#being emo about this shit tonight rip

[reikunrei]

thinking about the potential dynamic we could have gotten between Will and Eddie

i feel like, at first, Will would have been... overwhelmed by Eddie.  especially if he met him later than the rest of the party, so the rest of them are already used to his outbursts and grandiose, bombastic personality and Will just sort of has to accept it

he might get quieter than usual, “hiding” behind his friends so Eddie wouldn’t pay attention to him and inadvertently drag him into the spotlight.  his friends aren’t exactly quiet, but they don’t want to be the center of attention either.  if they’re the center of attention, it could mean more chances to be ridiculed and bullied.  and as 14/15 year olds, they don’t quite have the developed thick skin/growth out of caring about other’s opinions of them the way Eddie has after being ridiculed his whole life

he doesn’t dislike Eddie, and he in fact admires him for standing up to the people who are nasty to him and wholeheartedly being himself, but he’s just... a lot, at first

and while the party might tell Will to not worry about it, Eddie’s just like this all the time, he’s not scary or mean, Eddie would pay attention and start to ease up around Will

he’s acutely aware of his reputation and the way people perceive him, and while a lot of the time he ignores it, he knows this hesitancy from Will isn’t from a source of hatred or distaste, but rather simply a key to the fact that he’s a quiet, sensitive boy who’s been thrust into something before he’s entirely comfortable

so, Eddie makes a point to not draw attention to Will.  when he goes on a tirade about “forced conformity” or stupid sportsball games, he doesn’t try to rope Will into it.  when he starts wrestling with Dustin or getting handsy with the other boys, he simply gives Will a light clap on the shoulder, nudge with his elbow, or nothing at all.  when he starts pulling out loud jokes or antics, he doesn’t assume Will will just play along and lets Will insert himself first

he doesn’t ignore Will, and in fact he probably pays the closest attention to him out of all of the kids, but he lets Will make the choice to come in to the circle

he tones himself down when Will is there.  at least, he does at first, allowing Will to become familiar with his soft side first rather than being met with his outspoken, sharp exterior.  he would understand that Will needs that gentle buildup, lest he be too intimidated and distance himself

Eddie knows he can be a lot sometimes, and he prides himself on that, but he cares more about comfort and trust than anything else.  we see this with Chrissy, how he keeps himself mellow most of the time during their interactions (at least by comparison to his cafeteria outbursts and DMing), only breaking out of it to do something silly to ease the tension and make her smile.  sure, he was also like that because he was nervous to be doing a drug deal with the current Queen of Hawkins High, but as soon as he sees something’s wrong, he lets himself go soft rather than letting his nerves make him defensive

it would be much of the same with Will.  allowing himself to drop the hard exterior to make sure Will knows he can be trusted, he’s a safe person to come to, and he’s only sharp-tongued when he absolutely needs to be

and you know that once Eddie showed that kind of restraint, Will would easily fall into his company, more than happy to be lumped into the “other” that Eddie Munson finds himself in because he’s proven himself to be a metalhead with a heart of gold before anything else

plus once Will gets comfortable, you know his flare for the theatrics (looking at you, s3) would become fully fledged under Eddie’s guidance and they’d have great fun poring over campaign notes and Eddie would be so fucking hyped for Will’s drawings

[ababanerb]

Soldier On [2]

chapter one

AO3

Sebastian, for all the shit he talks about Winter Star and how much he hates the holiday, loves Winter. So much, in fact, that when he was younger, a teenager freshly burdened with the costs of insurance and a license, had dated a girl he met in Zuzu solely for her name - Winter. It hadn’t mattered that he didn’t really even know her, or like her, but her name was Winter, and at the time, it had seemed it would all work out based only on the fact that she was named after his favorite season.

He enjoys the crunch of snow under his feet, and the way his cigarettes particularly burn down his throat and into his lungs, filling him with heat, and he loves being able to don layer upon layer of swathes of black fabric. 

A true emo, as Sam and Abi would tease.

They tell him as much, the night before Winter Star, when he comes traipsing into the saloon, shaking snow from his hair because he doesn’t believe in wearing a hat to keep his head and ears warm when his hair is long enough to do the job. 

“Yoba, Sebastian,” Abi laughs when he joins up with them in the game room, a lukewarm beer waiting for him on the small table next to the couch, still capped, “If it weren’t for the fact I see you all the time, I’d think high school you just walked through the door!”

She makes the same joke every Friday, and every time, Sam laughs, and Sebastian indulges her teasing with a soft upward curl of his lips and a roll of his eyes.

And maybe, back when he was in junior high, and even his freshman and sophomore years of high school, he would agree, and say that he was emo. Mostly because at the time he thought it was cool to be emo and edgy. Now, though, it was mostly just long outgrown angst and the comfort that the varying shades of black and grays brought him. That, and it fit his aesthetic. 

After all, he’d reasoned, what girl doesn’t like a guy who knows how to play the dark and mysterious angle? There are plenty of girls out there with broken bird syndrome who’d love to have sex with him if they think it’ll fix him. 

And it does, for the thirty minutes it takes him to cum. 

“Uh-huh,” Sebastian says with a brief roll of his eyes, uncapping his lukewarm beer and taking a swig. It's as awful as it always is, beer never his favorite, but it's cheap, and he can't be picky if he wants to move out to the city, “At least I don't look like I only shop at Hot Topic,” He snarks back at them, gesturing to Abi’s alt-goth aesthetic and dyed hair and Sam’s band tee and ripped jeans.

Abi folds her arms across her chest defiantly, glaring at him as she begins to berate him for his commentary. But Sebastian shrugs it off, chuckling lowly as he maneuvers around her to grab his cue off of the wall. Sam groans, knowing what’s coming when Sebastian racks the balls, the blonde’s inevitable beat down for the night rapidly approaching as Sebastian takes another swig of his beer.

“Whatever, man,” Sam groans to him as he grabs his own cue and leans against the pool table, “We can’t all attract girls who are fucked in the head.”

“And we can’t all be good at pool,” Sebastian snarks back as Abi sniggers on the couch behind Sam, chiming in on Sebastian’s generally poor taste in the girls he likes to fuck. It’s a poor jab, Sebastian knows, because Sam has made it clear that he expects his Friday night to go pretty much the same every week. 

With Sebastian ever victorious, a proud, but subtle smirk on his face while Sam gets himself a consolation drink. 

But tonight’s a little different, because for as willing as Sam is to play pool, the blonde has bigger things happening in his life. The world has bigger things happening. Come Spring, all frontline infantry get to go home. Come Spring, his dad will be home. 

So, tonight, Sam gives Sebastian no fight, he lets Sebastian steamroll him, the blonde not giving any mind to his sloppy shots. 

“C’mon,” Sebastian groans when he pockets another winning shot, “You’re making this too easy, man.”

“Like the girls you fuck?” Abigail teases from where she’s hunched over the Journey of the Prairie King game console, her purple hair spilling over her shoulder as she furiously mashes buttons. Sebastian sneers at her, his lips curling over his canines as she ignores him while Sam chuckles quietly and nurses a beer – the best alcohol his crappy wages at JojaMart can buy in Pelican Town.

“Exactly like the girls I fuck,” Sebastian drawls, and she shifts her focus away from the old arcade game long enough to flip him off.

“Sorry,” Sam laughs as his closest friends begin waving their middle fingers in the air at each other. Almost reminiscent of their high school days. “I’ve just got stuff on my mind right now. I’m not here.”

“Whatever, man,” Sebastian says, an imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he slaps a hand over Sam’s back, “I’ll just kick your ass next week,” He chuckles, the tiny smile that is his trademark breaking into a half-smile. 

“Sure.” Sam agrees, and his beer is bitter all the way down.

—

When Safiya was still in an active combat zone, she’d learned all too quickly the killer that Winter is. That the cold is a far more miserable way to go than the heat of Summer. She could still remember creeping through the snow, her belly pressed to the freezing powder as it kept coming down, her gun over her back and the cold melting and seeping through the front of her uniform as she hunted desperately for rabbits. Or just a rabbit. Even a bunny. Just something to fill her belly for the night.

She’d been fifteen then, and her mom had still been alive. Her fingers had turned purple with cold, and it was only luck and a good healer that kept her from getting frostbite and losing her fingers entirely. But she’ll never forget the cold of those first few weeks on the frontline, when she’d been separated from her squadron in the middle of the woods across enemy lines. 

She’d sworn to herself that if she lived to see the next morning, that she’d find a way home. Even if it meant deserting her post. Even if it meant dying at the hands of a government that could care less about her.

But she’d actually made it through several mornings after that, several rabbits caught and eaten. Her fingers stained with blood and fire sputtering weakly in her palms in a last ditch effort to keep herself from dying. She’d lost most of the feeling in her fingertips, and no amount of healing had been able to fix it.

Not that it mattered to her. She’d made it out. Made it back and regrouped with a ballistics squadron that wasn’t hers by any means. They’d sent her back to where she belonged, escorted by a man who’d taken pity on her because he had a son her age. 

So, yes, Winter is brutal. But even more brutal is stifling the urge to go out into the snow and hunt down every piece of game she can find until the wilderness within a three mile radius is picked clean. 

It’s Magnus that stops her, with meals that magically appear in her fridge. Even though she doesn’t need them. Though, he’d said something similar when she’d made her way to his tower on her second day in town to thank him. 

And she finds herself trudging through the snow to Magnus’ again, when she’s found yet another meal in her fridge. A serving of pasta so large it could feed a whole squadron for a day.

“Magnus,” She demands to his door, and she doesn’t knock, her hands shoved deep into the old winter coat that had once been her moms, because she knows that he knows exactly who’s at his door, “Let me in. Now.”

The door creaks open, and Magnus’s magic stings her nose, smelling like old parchment and ink. It’s invitation enough, and she tromps through the door, magicking her boots dry as she kicks them off at the door. Because she’d almost killed him when he’d yelled at her the first time she tried wearing her shoes into his home. 

One side of Magnus’ mustache is still shorter than the other from where she’d singed it off. 

Whoops.

“What are you doing here?” Magnus demands as she steps into his living room, a massive cauldron bubbling in one corner of the room, and he materializes in a swirl of purple and flash of light on his couch. 

Safiya quirks a brow at him as he crosses one leg over the other, and whatever lingering feelings of superiority he had over her dissipates when she sees his socks on display.

“You know why I’m here,” She says simply, shrugging off her coat and draping it over the back of one of his chairs before she takes her own seat.

“Indulge me, child.”

“My fridge has become increasingly cluttered.”

Mostly true. She’s been steadily eating what he gives her, but not at a rate to keep up with the three plus meals a day he magically piles into her fridge. Because no matter how good the food he sends her is, nine years of the limited diet she had doesn’t go away in a week.

“Then you aren’t eating well, clearly,” He brushes off, a hand waving minutely through the air, and the cauldron bubbles loudly in the corner as it’s stirred by an invisible force. 

“Magnus,” Safiya begins, her sharp gaze fixating on him, “I appreciate your concern. But I have it handled from here. I’d call you if I needed you.”

“No, you would not.”

No, she would not.

“You and your mother,” He tuts, shaking his head, his hat wiggling just slightly without his magic to hold it down, “Always refusing help from others.”

Safiya has to physically bite her tongue, swallowing down the words that are bubbling up in her throat the same way the cauldron bubbles ferociously in the corner and wafts a haze of fragrant smoke through Magnus’ tower. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that she would have taken any help she could get, anything to get home. 

But now, she is home. And there’s no one left.

“I don’t need it, Magnus,” Is what she says instead, her jaw a hard line, schooled into the same cold hard-faced expression she’d worn as a Colonel. The same face she’d worn to give orders, her voice a soft bark in the quiet of the tower.

Magnus’ face goes slack for a moment, and she wonders if his face looked the same when she and her mom had moved to Zuzu, or when her grandpa died. Then his face is as it always is, a cool surface of wise indifference, but Safiya knows his eyes. Knows her grandpa’s best friend, knows her mom’s would-be savior, her would-be savior.

The guilt hits her like a bullet to the gut, knocking the wind out of her and leaving her laid out flat on her back. 

“But I do appreciate it,” Safiya amends, voice gone soft, and she feels all thrown out of balance as she meets Magnus’ eyes again.

He only heaves a sigh, a hand pinching at his nose as he squeezes his eyes closed, “You and your mother, child…” He mutters, opening his eyes again and Safiya can feel his mind trying to prod at hers. Like a dry paintbrush feathering over a canvas – touching, but never leaving anything behind. 

“Magnus,” She growls sharply, tossing her mind at him in pointed barbs, but not touching, “Get out of my head.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m curious,” Magnus chides, chuckling softly as he withdraws from her mind, “I only want to know what happened to the girl that used to beg me to take her down to see the Lunaloos every Summer. I just want to make sure you're taken care of.

“The same way I wanted to make sure your mother was taken care of. I cannot… I failed your mother. I cannot fail you, too.”

Safiya sighs, all the anger bleeding from her, as the wizard who is - from what he’d told her as a girl - a few centuries her senior hits her right in the gut again, “What happened to Mom… that was no one’s fault,” Safiya says stiffly, but her voice wavers, a watery undertone as she swallows down the lump in her throat. “What can I do to ease your concerns, Magnus?”

“Eat the food I send you,” He chuckles softly, and if there’s a watery glint to his eyes, Safiya pretends to not to see, “And go introduce yourself to the villagers.”

“Technically, they’re townspeople,” She interjects.

“However you’d like to call them,” He sighs, pointing a finger at her, “I want you to make it a point to talk to them. Many of them had been good friends with your mother and grandfather. And I refuse to let you hermit yourself away from the world.”

“I have already seen much of the world,” Safiya says softly, “I have lost a good piece of me to it. It is no one’s fault but my own should I choose to make a hermit of myself.”

“Safiya,” He says sternly, and he’s suddenly standing only a few feet in front of her. His bright purple gaze piercing through her soul, “I do not ask things, not of anyone. But please—”

“Fine,” She agrees sharply, the palm of her hand to him, “Make me a list or something. But quit sending me food. Got it?”

So, Safiya trudges back to the farm, lighting up a cigarette - leaving only ten more in the carton - to burn its way down her throat as she tucks the journal Magnus had given her against her ribs beneath her mother’s old coat. There are twenty-eight names, and it’s disturbing that Magnus knows enough about all of them to be able to give each person in such a tiny town their own pages.

But it’s also endearing, if only because he’d given her the information in hopes it would help her.

[borathae]

Ok because MV finishing celebration, i sent the scenario game first ask a while back and didn't send anymore because everyone here took over and did the best job in writing the filthiest unhinged scenarios so they did it more than justice

But I'm sending one and lets see which of the MV boys it fits

Ok, let's do an emo scene because I'm tipsy as fuck and down bad for MV boys and i miss having a lover lmoa : here it's is, they're super emotional after something not so great happened in their day but they don't let it show and then it's their night with her so they're having sex or rather foreplay and they're being extra kissy and gentle touching, a lot of eye locking with her and looking at her face at one point she asked if they want doggy because maybe they mentioned last time that it's been a while since they hit it foggy and they miss it but they say not tonight i wanna see your face while I'm in it, and they go at it missionary. super fucking sensual and deep strokes and at one point they actually start crying and oc is like is everything Ohkay ??! and they just drop tears with no words or noise while nodding and just fucking her and holding onto her for dear life and processing their eternal devotion and undying love for her and basically all the soulful shit

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Someone come and get loved up with this bitch it's been too damn long

NO BUT WHY CAN I IMAGINE ALL OF THEM DOING THAT??? OMFG this has SA!Taegikook written all over it like I couldn't possibly choose 😩😩

I feel like with Jungkookie it would a situation of "training fucking sucked today and I feel like a complete loser". Maybe he accidentally ripped through a deer again without wanting to and now he is scared that he won't ever control his urges (which good sir you are making love to your girl hello???) and then overwhelmed by her warmth and her scent he begins crying because she makes him feel so much better about himself 🥺

I feel like with Yoongi it would be a situation of "I feel insecure as fuck today and I hate every inch of my body". Just the act of being with her and feeling her touch the parts of his body which he hated so much would break him. She touches those "ugly parts" with so much love and adoration and fucking hell Yoongi is too fucking grateful for her not to cry 😔

I feel like with Tae would be a situation of "I'm so fucking lonely now that my soulmate is no more, please don't let go or I'll actually break". He would see the sex as a sort of reminder that warmth IS meant for him and that the ache in his heart WILL get better again. And feeling her be so close to him is just too much for his heart 😭

THIS JUST MADE ME SO SOFT I LOVE THEM FAJDFJA

[softyoongiionly]

BlackHeart Bakery

Who says Halloween can’t be romantic?

Pairing: Emo! Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Genre: fluff

A/N: HI OMG IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE. I love you, I hope you like it. I’m sorry it isn’t longer but, I still can’t wait for you to read it.

-you never imagined that the quirky lil bakery down the street from your university would change your life  

-But it did

-“Omg shut up, you’re so dumb.”

-“Rawr xD”

-“Did you just say rawr xD out loud??? That totally defeats the purpose of its existence...”

-“Don’t cite the deep magic to me witch, I was there when it was written.”

-“And now you’re quoting the chronicles of narnia- alright just go back to sleep you big dummy...”

-“Mmm but you married a big dummy so what does that say about you”

-“Jungkook don't spoil it oh my god!”

-“Like they don’t know what’s coming already- spoiler alert losers! I get the girl.”

-“I hate you...”

-“Mm yeah- I love it when you talk dirty to me baby. The last time you said that- we ended up fuc-“

-“Ok! That’s enough! Our story begins...”

-Jungkook’s bakery was quite famous around your city

-If people didn’t come for the gaudy Halloween decorations  

-They came for the music  

-Exclusively pop punk, if you’re wondering

-It was like 2009 everyday  

-Which was comforting, considering the world has gotten a little

-Tricky

-Since then

-But anyways

-If they didn’t come for the music or the decorations

-They came for the AMAZING espresso  

-And the spooky themed treats

-But if you’re being honest

-You think the main thing that keeps them coming back

-Is Jungkook  

-If his sweeping black hair didn’t get you

-Or the adorable cheeky twinkle in his eyes

-It was the tattoos and the piercings  

-He looked like he walked right off of a black veil brides music video set  

-He was hot

-This was obvious

-But he didn’t seem to think so

-You had come to the conclusion that he was oblivious  

-he shoved his feet into his big black doc martens every morning  

-Slipped on his beaded bracelets and studded chokers

-Pulled his fall out boy t-shirt over his

-Massive

-Tattooed

-Biceps

-And just thought hm

-I’m pretty average I guess (lol)

-That’s a direct quote from him btw

-Men truly are hopeless

-Jungkook opened the bakery two years ago

-He had mentioned to you that he had saved up money from his 3 part time jobs to put a down payment on the building  

-Which was wedged between a sex shop

-And a thrift store

-And honestly his bakery

-Blackheart Bakery, if you’re being specific  

-Fits right in

-Jungkook refuses to hire new staff

-“They won’t do it right.” He whined to you one day

-“One time I tried to hire this guy and he put the sugared googly eyes on the cookie skeletons ALL WRONG”

-“How do you put googly eyes on wrong?” You had giggled

-“you just do- i- See? This is exactly why I can’t hire anyone...”

-You had started chewing on the end of your pencil in the midst of your laughter

-It was an unconscious habit

-And it makes Jungkook shift uncomfortably, his hands moving off of the top of your table

-“Don’t do that...” he had muttered, smirking to himself as he walked back behind the counter  

-he did that a lot

-He’d mutter something  

-Mildly flirtatious under his breath and then  

-Just walk away

-It was quite confusing

-But honestly you had a feeling he was just a filrty person  

-You certainly weren’t the only girl he smirked at

-Not that you pay attention

-Ok  

-Maybe you do  

-Kinda  

-Pay attention  

-but it’s not your fault!!!!  

-You just  

-Can’t help but feel a little jealous

-You kiiiiiinda have a little thing for him

-Ok

-Maybe it’s a big thing  

-Maybe it’s a massive

-Gigantic

-Towering  

-Crush  

-But look at him!!!

-You simply couldn’t be blamed

-It was his fault  

-Yep

-That’s what you’re going with

-It was Jungkook

-And his tight t shirts

-His ripped jeans

-His dangly earrings

-His tattoos

-His big

-Stupid boots

-Ugh ok

-Focus  

-You have work to do

-The whole reason you began coming to Jungkook's cafe was so you -could find a consistent place to study for your exams

-You were in school to become a teacher :)  

-And teachers have to study very very hard  

-Educating the youth is no easy feat  

-Jungkook had asked what you were studying during the first week you arrived at his spooky house of baked goods

-“Oh I’m an education major”

-“Ahh so you’re getting an education about...education.” He concludes

-“I love it.”

-“So meta.”

-“Are they educating you on the disparities between impoverished children and wealthier children?”

-His wide eyes were brimming with genuine curiosity  

-You kind of got a kick out of how candid he was about such heavy conversation topics

-“Not as much as they should be but, I’m actually writing a paper on a similar topic right now...”

-This caused a brilliant grin to come over his face

-It was almost blinding really

-And it made your heartbeat all wonky  

-“Of course you are. You look smart like that...”

-He had backed away from your table then, seemingly satisfied

-Had you passed the vibe check?

-“I’ll leave you to your paper.” He nodded to your laptop but as he walked away, he pivoted back towards you on and the heel of his combat boot, “welcome to Blackheart Bakery by the way, let me know if I can get you anything.”

-Another brilliant smile is sent your way  

-“Thank you.” You had smiled back, sending a tiny wave his way

-Which in turn, made HIS heartbeat all wonky  

-You’re cute

-Like really cute

-And despite how often it may seem like his eyes are elsewhere

-They are ALWAYS on you

-Every chance he gets he is glancing your way

-Smirking to himself at how endearing you are

-Brow furrowed

-Lips pouted in concentration  

-Completely oblivious to his gaze

-He has to remind himself to look away  

-He doesn’t want to be a creep

-“Creepy men deserved to get kicked in the teeth...”

-He’s said this to you before when another patron had made you uncomfortable

-Jungkook kicked him out immediately  

-“If you don’t leave, I’ll have no choice but to kick you in the teeth. One, because I can’t compromise my personal philosophy and two because you’re making my favorite customer uncomfortable.”

-Oh look there goes your heartbeat again

-WONKY

-The guy leaves in an angry rush, flipping Jungkook off in the process

-Saying something about leaving a bad Yelp review  

-He doesn’t care tho

-He definitely doesn’t want to be a creep

-You’re just so  

-Pretty

-Ugh

-He rolls his eyes at himself behind the espresso bar

-The latte in front of him neglected  

-In need of a bit of foam

-“Focus Jeon, she’s just a chick...”

No wait

-“She’s just a woman. A woman who I respect, like I respect all women...”

-He’s been watching a lot of feminist theory on YouTube

-He likes staying educated  

-And also fuck the patriarchy

-The man waiting for his drink has arched a brow at this point, wondering if his barista has lost his mind

-“Uhhh medium...” he checks the cup for his awful hand writing, “ghostly toasted marshmallow latte!”

-“Thanks.” The guy mutters, throwing a judging look Jungkook's way  

-He gives him a lazy salute as the guy struts away with a briefcase in tow

-“Thaaanks.” Jungkook mocks him, his face scrunching up in annoyance  

-Stupid man

-With his stupid briefcase  

-As Jungkook is pulling out a batch of cream cheese frosting stuffed pumpkin muffins  

-Or as Jungkook calls them

-PUNK-in Muffins

-Movement at the counter catches his eye

-is that

-”oh shit...” He grunts, hastily wiping his hands on his apron and rushing over to the counter

-normally he would meander

-stroll

-or even slump to greet any new guests at this hour

-and by this hour

-he means 45 minutes before closing

-Jungkook’s bakery is open til midnight on weeknights

-9pm on Sundays

-and 3am on Saturdays (for the culture of course, gotta keep it spooky)

-tonight happens to be a Friday night and the person awaiting his assistance is

-you

-”You’re still here?” He gawks, the black polish on his nails glimmering as he punches in a few keys on the register

-You offer him a tired and slightly amused smile, “No. Y/N died around 4:30, you’re speaking to her ghost. Please leave your message after the tone.”

-Jungkook cracks a smile, his palms resting on flat on the counter, “Do ghosts check their voicemails?”

-“Oh of course not but, I will be checking yours because you have access to caffeine.”

-Jungkook laughs

-no...he giggles  

-and it’s fucking cute

-but you digress

-“I feel like I should cut you off...this is your 4th latte; I’m pretty sure you’re 80% caffeine at this point...”

-“Noooo, don’t do that.” You whine slumping against the counter, “I just need to finish this one page...”

-He quirks a brow as he scribbles something on your cup, unimpressed with your statement, “You said that three hours ago. I’ll make you another one but I’m not putting an extra shot in.”

-Your face turns up in protest but he click his tongue against his teeth , shaking a manicured finger at you

-“Ah ah- nope. I don’t want to hear it. You either take that or I’m making you a hot chocolate and shutting the buildings power off.”

-With a dramatic sigh, you concede

-“Ugh fine. Here-” You go to hand him your debit card but he shakes his head

-“Put that away.”

-You want to protest but given the fact that he’s made the rules thus far during this interaction, you doubt you’d be able to stop him.

-A smile appears on your face then, appreciative of his generosity

-“Thank you.”

-He merely grins, waving you off before rolling up the sleeves of his black Blink 182 shirt

-as soon as his tattoos are out

-all the moisture leaves your mouth

-you try your hardest not to stare at him

-expertly, he eases the espresso shots into the milk, tongue poking between his lips in concentration

-and you

-being sleep-deprived

-and a little loopy

-decide to  

-flirt????????

-if you could even call it that

-which you could but you shouldn’t

-“For the record, when I finally dig my way out of this of mountain of death I’m stuck in, I will definitely take you up on that hot chocolate...”

-Jungkook’s brow quirks at the tone of your voice, his hands suddenly itching with nerves

-was that

-was that flirty?

-should he flirt back?

-“My hot chocolate is legendary. You won’t be disappointed.” His lips display a small grin as he places the lid atop your finished latte, “Also mountain of death is a great name and I WILL be stealing it.”

-You giggle

-again

-“and I WILL be suing you for copyright.”

-He laughs now, wiping up the bit of milk he spilled

-the sinewy muscles in his forearm tensing and untensing

“Good luck getting me to show up to court.”

-and that’s kinda how it was between you and Jungkook

-for like six months

-it was a little bit flirty but never anything to push either over you over the edge.

-and speaking of being on edge

-recently, you had gone from vacationing in your timeshare on the edge

-to signing a 35 year mortgage contract  

-4 bedrooms

-2.5 bathrooms

-of pure

-unrelenting

-stress

-you could feel it in the middle of your back

-shoving itself up between your shoulder blades

-your body seemed to ache with it

-the worst part being

-it was Halloween

-You should be out with your friends, having fun

-wearing itchy costumes and drinking sugary drinks

-but instead, your headed towards the bakery to work

-Jungkook was behind the counter, smiling happily at a family dressed like the cast of scooby doo

-from what you could see he was wearing a skeleton onesie

-his jet black hair tousled perfectly above his head

-he looked adorable

-(and hot)

-He notices you instantly, his face turning up in surprise

-you offer up a small wave and head over to your table

-you know he’s going to say something about you being there but

-you don’t really have much of a choice

-this work has to be done

-it takes him a second to spot you but when he does

-he seems to perk up

-his smile brightening as he looks back towards his customer

-as you’re setting everything up, you feel a presence (not the spooky kind) at the end of your table

-it’s Jungkook and he has your regular order in one hand, along with something wrapped in skeleton-patterned parchment paper

-“I know, I know.” You acknowledge before he’s even able to chide you for being here

-He smirks “What are you doing studying on the holiest day of the year??”

-You giggle

-“The holiest day of the year huh?”

-“Of course. Halloween is the one night a year that the homies can dress like total -sluts and no one can say anything about it.”

-This makes you giggle again

-“And you went with slutty skeleton huh? I love it- it’s like as naked as you can possibly get.”

-He chuckles, gesturing to his costume

-His floppy black hair getting in his face

-“Damn right baby.”

-The way he grins tells you the pet name is a joke

-But the deepening of his voice gets to you anyway

-“Thank you for this. I promise I’ll get out of your hair early tonight.”

-“The only thing I’m worried about getting out of my hair is this white spray paint. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

-He’s put a streak of white spray paint in his raven locks

-Why? You’re not certain

-Does it look good on him, like everything else does?

-Absolutely

-Its been a few hours since your night of studying began

-Jungkook’s dropped off two free lattes since you’ve arrived  

-As well as a slice of his ‘I write cinnamon not tragedies’ bread

-Which was equally hilarious and delicious

-You caught him glancing over at your table a few times but you didn’t think anything of it

-He’s probably just checking to make sure that no one needs your table

-His bakery is packed most nights but Halloween is a special night at Blackheart Bakery

-He has a trick or treat counter set up with free (homemade) candy

-A photo op complete with a fake haunted house backdrop

-A Halloween playlist

-And a bunch of discounts on his signature lattes and food

-you watch him amongst the chaos

-He is completely unfazed

-He seems elated at the amount of customers he has

-he grins and laughs at something a man dressed like Thor says at his counter

-he seems entirely in his element

-you realize that the denial tactics you’ve been trying out haven’t been working

-because this floppy haired, tattooed, slutty skeleton/baker kind of has a hold on your heart

-you’ve been friends for a long time now

-he always makes sure you’re taken care of

-he always asks if you’re ok

-he always gives you this little grin

-it feels like a secret sometimes

-but maybe it’s been his way of letting you know where he stands

-he’s been bringing you lattes and pastries for months now

-he never charges you full-price

-he always reminds you not to work too hard

-he

-fuck

-he likes you doesn’t he?

-you look back over at the counter to see him bending over and handing a skeleton cookie to a little girl dressed like Captain Marvel

-he laughs at something she says

-his eyes focused entirely on her and whatever she seems to be proclaiming to him  

-your heart goes wonky again

-alright

-enough is enough

-you’re doing this  

-Jungkook’s done so much of the work thus far

-it’s time for you to seal the deal

-and if he rejects you, well…

-you can just crawl into a hole and never come out again

-easy peasy

-You can feel his eyes on you as you get up to take your place in line

-luckily there isn’t anyone else behind you

-rejection with an audience would certainly be worse

-Jungkook has his witty comment ready for you as you approach the register

-“I know for a fact you haven’t finished your third latte and I’m not making you another one until-“

-“I’m not here for another latte.” You laugh, trying to ignore the thrashing of your heartbeat

-“No? Well, are you finally going to try my Welcome to the Blackened Chicken Parade Burger then? I’ve been asking you for like three weeks…”

-god he’s fucking cute

-“I’m here to ask you out.”

-Jungkook swears he feels his heart stop

-“You’re here to…”

-He repeats the first part of your response as his he didn’t hear you

-his black fingernails anxiously tapping against the countertop

-“I’m here to ask you out- on a date.”

-Jungkooks face seems to go through various stages of confusion before a shy smirk presents itself on his pretty mouth

-“Me? You’re asking me-“ He places a hand on his chest, “-out on a date?”

-“Yes!” You laugh, slapping the counter a bit too hard, your nerves getting the best of you, “Are you down?”

-He shakes his head but his answer contradicts his movements

-“So down, beyond down. There is no one on Earth who is more DOWN than I am. Yes. My answer is yes. 50000% yes.”

-you can’t help the smile on your lips

-“great. So are you free next Friday then?”

-He grins with his teeth this time, nodding emphatically  

-“Consider the shop closed.”

-and so it was

-you returned to your table moments later  

-feeling on top of the world

-you did it

-you asked Jungkook out

-and he said yes

-and now you

-NOW YOU HAVE A DATE WITH JUNGKOOK

-LOOK AT YOU GO

-TAKING CHARGE

-you try your best to engage with your studies but with Jungkook on your mind

-its really hard

-roughly two hours later, things at the bakery have finally started to slow down

-“Hey uh- Y/N?”

-Jungkook's voice that pulls you out of your studying trance

-he’s standing at the entrance of his back room, waving you over with his hand

-and who are you to deny him?

-you make your way over there, annoyed at the instant increase in your heartrate

-he stands awkwardly to the side and gestures to the boxes on the metal rack

-“I just remembered that I’ve never given you a tour of the place. I give all my regulars a tour of the stockroom and my office and uh-”

-he cuts himself off and clumsily cups your cheek

-he pulls you into a kiss

-a really good kiss

-his lips are so warm

-he smells like cinnamon

-you could literally die happy

-The ridiculous nature of his first attempt to kiss you, makes you giggle into his mouth

-you feel him smile, his hands smushing your cheeks together as he pulls away

-“Ok I lied. There is no tour. I’ve just been watching you focus on your computer for the last two hours and you’re just really fucking cute and-”

-this time, it’s you who cuts him off

-“You better give me an actual tour next time. How else am I going to steal your secret recipes?”

-he scoffs in mock offense

-“Ah ha! So that’s the only reason you asked me out huh? Should I be calling you Plankton instead of Y/N? Ew no wait- that would make me Mr. Krabs and he’s a dirty capitalist...”

-You laugh, “Oooh good point. Guess you’ll just have to be Karen, my computer wife.”

-This makes him laugh now and the sound warms your soul

-“I could live with that- I like your last name better anyways.”

-with another kiss, your adventure with the emo baker of your dreams begins

-It may have been Halloween but it sure felt like Christmas to you

[pockyxx]

“ how the haikyuu captains confess ”

daichi x fem! reader, kuroo x fem! reader, ushijima x fem! reader, bokuto x fem reader and oikawa x fem! reader

genre: fluff.

daichi 

people already though the two of you were dating

he always does typical boyfriend things i.e holds bags, compliments, the only thing that was missing was  physical intimacy 

he’d be on the fine line of romantic and straight forward 

he kinda already knew that you knew he liked you 

he got the team’s advice on what to do but it was useless bc they’ve never been with a girl RIP 

“Y/n, I’m glad I caught up to you!” He seemed a little more nervous than normal but you brushed it off as just nervous for his up coming practice match. 

“Hey Daichi-san, what’s up?” You closed your locker, finishing up with your own club activities. The two of you continued to walk while also keeping up the conversation, Daichi holding the door open for you. 

Your heart slightly fluttered as you walked so close with them, wondering if today was the day that Daichi was finally going to confess. One of the first years had accidentally let it slip one day when you stopped by his practice. 

“Well, actually, there’s been something on my mind. It’s been on my mind for a while, honestly.” He stopped walking, nervously opening his backpack to grab something. 

You gave him an innocent look even though it’s been a moment you’ve been waiting for for a long time. 

“I like you, y/n. Like a lot.” He extended his hand and offered you your favorite candy bar, something that he always carried around with him. “I like when I get to see your bright smile, and your laugh makes me feel so warm inside. I just like the person I am around you and how you make me want to be a better person all together.” 

It had been clear that he hadn’t exactly planned what he was going to say but it was still meaningful nonetheless. 

“It took you long enough.” You flashed a cheeky grin, “Hinata told me by accident, I’ve just been waiting for you to finally spill the beans.” You laughed, filling his heart with joy. 

“So this means you’ll let me take you on a date?” He wondered, blushing and making a mental note to make the younger boy run extra laps. You nodded rapidly, taking his hands in yours, proceeding with your walk. 

kuroo 

have you seen how he talks to his team 

he would have his confession planned for a week 

He’d be rehearsing that shit in the mirror every morning

he’d probably get really freaked out the day of though 

when you say you like him back and confess in a similar manner he’s as red as a tomato 

he practiced on kenma and get his advice

“Are you a carbon sample? Because I want to date you-” Kuroo was instantly cut off by his younger friend who was still glued to his game. 

“You’re really going to finish off such a sentimental confession with a stupid chemistry pick up line. That’s gross.” He commented as Kuroo was left scratching his head. He’d been planning on confessing to you for a while now but was still stuck on what to say. 

“But she loves when I made chemistry jokes.” His face dropped, conflicted with what to do. Was his friend right? Do girls not like that sort of thing? 

“Well you better decide quick because her she comes.” You had turned the corner with all their refilled water bottles and his heart began to race up. What would happen if you said you didn’t like him back? It would create such an awkward relationship between you two; which wouldn’t be good between a captain and a team manager. 

“Here are your waters.” You passed both volleyball players their drinks as you rested your hands on your hips, “what were you guys talking about?” 

Kenma kept a straight face while Kuroo flushed slightly. Pressing a finger to your lips, you thought of a way to lighten the clearly tense mood. 

“You’ve defiantly being improving your serves, Kuroo-san. I’ve been keeping ion you!” You covered your mouth, not wanted to let out a laugh at such a cheesy joke. That was Kenma’s cue to walk off, giving Kuroo the thumbs up to proceed-- it was now or never. 

“Well, there’s something you should know too, chibi-can.” He swallowed any anxious nerves he had, “You make my heart flutter every moment I see you; you just take me breath away and not just because of you looks. I like how funny you are, and you always seem to put a smile on my face. I know this is very random but I’ve been holding in my feelings for a very long time and I thought I was going to explode not being able to tell you.” 

You smiled, bashing your eyelashes, you never knew your captain had feelings for you. Heck, your crush had feelings for you. 

“So basically, what I’ve been meaning to ask is; are you a carbon sample? Because I want to date you?” He held his breath, wondering if Kenma was going to be right. His heart pounded even faster at the sight of your lips twisting to an even bigger smile (if that was even possible). 

ushijima 

it could go one of two ways 

either he could be super blunt and hit you with the ‘I like you y/n.’

OR it would be over the top and only because he consulted tendou

tendou’s probably watched a handful of romance animes and has ushijima prepares chocolates, flowers, the whole 9 yards 

ushi is just nodded and taking notes like... 

just confess to her at the summer festival, girls love that, bonus points if you do it under the fire works.

tendou’s words rang through ushijimas head as he walked side by side with you at the summer festival. he’d done everything tendou had instructed him to up until that point. he’s bought you the best taiyaki, he’d let you hold his hand as to not get lost in the crowd and he’d even won you a small stuffed animal that now rested under your arm pit.

“I think the fireworks are about to start.” you hummed as wakatoshi realized he needed to get into the right position.

“then why don’t we go someone more private.” he offered you a rare smile as your cheeks started to burn up with fluster.

it wasn’t like ushijima was a cold heart person but seeing him suggest something so thoughtful, your heart fluttered with the idea that someone greater was about to happen.

nodding, you let ushijima pull you off as the two of you got a better of the sky that was soon to be filled with a display of lights. he’d taken you away from the crowd, up on a small empty lot of gross that was elevated compared to the rest of the festival.

“y/n, I enjoyed tonight.” he cleared his throat, catching your attention. you nodded in agreement,

“hopefully we can go to more festivals today, of course if your not busy with volleyball!” you smiled happily. ushijima was quick to respond.

“I’d like that very much.” he paused, “y/n, i’m often told that i don’t show emotions well or that i’m very blunt.”

you watched him with curious eyes, stating that that wasn’t all ways a bad thing.

“that’s right. this is a time where i think it’s good to be blunt. you see, y/n, i enjoy spending time with you and that i like you, very much.”

bokuto 

it accidentally slipped out 

he always gets a little shy when he think about it so he simply doesn’t 

you’ll be something fairly mundane and he’ll just pause and go 

“you do that so well, that’s why I think I’m in love with you.” 

you’d get flustered because it was so out of the blue 

he’d fill akaashi in the next day and akaashi would make him re-do the confession

“You’re so good at cleaning the white board, y/n, but I guess everything you do is good because that’s why I like you.” You and Bokuto had class room chores together after school and he was watching you, in a hazy spell, resting his hand on his head. 

You blushed, not knowing if Bokuto was actually being serious or if he was just being overly kind. You just pretended like you didn’t hear him, continuing with what you were doing. If you can confessed your feelings back and he wasn’t serious, you would’ve died of embarrassment. 

“Bokuto-san are you going to help or not?” You turned around seeing Bokuto covering his face as he rested his head on the desk. “Uh, Bokuto-san are you alright?” 

He looked up at you only for you to see what you recognized as his emo mode. You frowned your eyebrows as he jumped up, bursting out with emotion. 

“No! I just confessed to the girl that I like and, and, and I wasn’t ready!” He grabbed his bag and ran for the door, “please forgive me for not doing my share of the work, y/n.” 

You were left speechless, watching as the gray haired boy ran away. You laughed realizing what he meant and put you into such a happy mood you didn’t even care that you had to finish all the chores. 

The next morning, you were greeted at the gates of Fukuordani by Bokuto who held a box of you favorite snack and a small teddy bear. Shyly extending the gifts out to you. 

“I bet you know what I’m going to say, so just, uh, please take these.” It had been what Akaashi had instructed and you took them with pleasure. 

“These will make up for all my hard work yesterday keeping out classroom spic-and-span.” You giggle, Bokuto looked at you with pouty eyes as you continued, “and if you didn’t run out so quickly you would’ve know what I like you too.” 

His eyes gleamed as you covered your slightly blushing face with your hand. Bokuto engulfed you in a hug and the two of you becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. 

oikawa 

he’s been confessed to so much that confessions make him nauseous tbh 

he’d make it very personal and romantic, though 

if not romantic he’d want it to be just the two of you 

he knew if he told any of the third years about if his plans, they’d ruin the moment; showing up to film the whole experience (mattsun and makki) 

he would secretly be the most nervous out of all of them 

You were helping Iwaizumi and taking over his cleaning shift with Oikawa. Oikawa was kinda glad the ace had a dentist appointment, so he could finally get you alone with out his team mates or fan girls there to ruin the moment. 

“Say, y/n-chan, I’m pretty lucky to have such a pretty girl helping me clean up.” His eyes were on the ball he was rubbing the marks off of, not really seeing your expression, defended by the sound of his heart thumping rapidly. 

You frowned, liking Oikawa was no easy task because everyone seemed to like him. Sure, he complimented you now, but he always compliments girls. It hurt your heart not knowing how sincere he was. 

“Don’t worry about it Oikawa-san, I’m always happy to help.” You sighed, finishing pumping a deflated volleyball. The Oikawa you had grown to love wasn’t the pretty, flashy volleyball player but the determined captain who always brought out the best in his teammates. It was the hard working, smart and passionate Toru that made your heart do flips. 

“Y/n...” His voiced trailed off, you noticed there wasn’t a cute little ‘chan’ following it. You turned to face him, not realizing your vision had gone blurry from tears pooling in them. 

“Are you alright?” Out of concern he placed his hands in your shoulders and that seemed to snapped you out of the spell you’d fallen under.

Rubbing your eyes, you nodded, looking down at your feet to avoid Oikawa’s gaze. You wished he’d let go of you, so you heart could just go back to its normal pace.

“Y/n did I say something to upset you—Im sorry.” He seemed to be holding his breath until he saw you shake your heard, reassuring him he’d done nothing wrong. Toru sighed.

“I hate seeing you upset, do you know that?” Surpised, you looked up at him, almost beckoning him to eleborate. Oikawas mind was racing— he wasn’t planning on confessing right there and then but he decided to sieze the moment.

“Out of all the girls I talk to, you’re the only one that makes me feel like this...” With your mouth gapping he took your hand and directed it to his chest where you could feel his rapid heartbeat.

“Oikawa-san...” You trailed off, at a loss of words. Between the hand touching his toned chest and the honey-like words coming out of his mouth, it sent you into over drive.

“Everything about you makes me crazy and-and well y/n... i like you!”

Nodding off, your brain couldn’t fully comprehend what your body was doing. leaning forward, reaching up to his lips you. kiss. him.

“Woah.” Oikawa breathed out, shocked at how you reciprocated his feeling until he was brought back to his usual behaviour, “so... you wanna go out with me?”

[oliverandrews]

The Magical Thong

by Oliver Andrews

Chapter 1

I was hanging out with my friends, and doing some shopping at the mall. It was all fun. I got myself some new clothes at the thrift store and went to drink a smoothie, the shit you do when you're in college and not partying. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a nerd or anything. I weighed 210 pounds or 6ft 3. I was the monster of the baseball team, but I wasn't that terrifying with my cute face, pale skin, and brown wavy hair. I tried to look clean and be a little fashionable. You're probably wondering then what's the problem... I was being blessed by genetics, but too freaking much. My butt was so huge I couldn't keep underwear for more than a week, any boxers, briefs, or jock are instantly ripping. Fucking glutes. I also had wide shoulders but that's fine. The second problem is my boobs. My pecs were so round, so bulgy and squishy it felt like I was a fucking woman. And the cherry on top was my oversensitive nipples. God bless America so I can find 4xl shirts.

At a moment, my two homies, Tyler and Josh decided to follow a group of chicks, they were clearly gonna get rejected, like who makes a move on a girl while she's with her group?

"Come on bro, we have more chance to get a date if you come with us," Tyler said

"I'm telling you it's dumb, they're just gonna laugh at you"

"Damn dude, you're such a pain in the ass when it's bout girls"

"Man, for real, we've been friends since middle school I've never seen you get laid like are you... sus" Josh clapped back

"Stop saying shit, they are five you don't do that the fuck. And I am the one sus do I need to remind you of Elijah's party"

"SHUT UP!" both answered immediately, Tyler followed "It happened once and we were both drunk"

"You joking y'all spent all night making out" I laughed as they turned red.

"Come on bro, we're gonna show them how straight men get pussy" Josh took Ty by the arm and went to see the girl group.

As I expected the girls just laughed and left. They came back pouting. I burst into laughing

"I guess Tyler the only head you're getting tonight is from josh" they both turned red

"Stop it man" I stopped joking when I saw they were uncomfortable but for my defense when you see your homie sitting on your other homie's lap and they make out the whole night, there's something more than friendship.

We went back to our shopping and they told me about the girl and stopped in front of a store.

"The fuck is this" Josh said

"It looks so fucking cool" Tyler was gasping, the guy despite being on the baseball team was also a little emo/punk boy. Currently, he was wearing a bleached buzzcut but he once arrived with pink hair and I'm telling you we made fun of him. But he kept on his project and got a couple piercing like in his nose, some on each ear, and his nipples too. When he showed us his bare torso and the metal shining on his pecs, I was how can he resist like mine are too sensitive for this.So Tyler ran into the shop, the place was dark with a lot of pink neons someone was getting tattooed, you couldn't see it but by the "buzz" it was obvious. We were on the clothing/accessory side and a Korean guy went to greet us.

"Hello, welcome, what can I help you with" the guy was fit with short jet black hair in a tight t-shirt and jeans also black his arms and neck were tattooed.

"We're just looking, thanks," Josh said smiling at the clerk.

Tyler already disappeared into the shop while with Josh we looked between the rows full of emo-punk cloth. There was some cool ass shirt. It was all fun and game until josh spoke to me

"Can I tell you something Aaron?" he said almost whispering

"Yes..." I looked concerned, scared of what he was about to say. I look at his green eyes. Josh was a cute boy for real, he was smaller than us but was on the gymnastic team, he was pretty classic, the hoodie and shorts kind.

"You know what happened at Elijah's party, I just want to tell you that, I just had been doubting a lot about my sexuality at the moment and I talked about it with Ty and you know with the drinks it ended like that but I'm not gay so I just wanted to ask you if we could like just forget this."He was totally embarrassed and was avoiding my eyes.

"I'm sorry dude, I never meant to embarrass you, it's all forgotten"

"Thanks, man," he said and we hugged.

"OH... MY... GOD..." Ty said loudly, we found him in the underwear section, Holding what seemed to be a g-string. I looked a Josh.

"What were we talking bout?" he slightly punch my shoulder and went with a "shut up bro"

"Aaron, I bet you 50 dollars you won't try it," he said to me determined.

"Why would I even do that"

"DUDE! you are LITERALLY complaining 24/7 about the size of your HUMONGOUS ROYAL BEHIND" He said in the last part with a very cliché/distinguished voice.

"Okay, I'm in" still I don't what I am gonna do with the 50 bucks. I took the slutty thing and went to the fitting rooms. The clerk was there folding clothes. Stay calm I thought It was just a thong.

"You found something you want to try on"

"Yes I'd like to try this" I showed the thong and heard my fellow dumb bros giggling behind.

The clerk started grinning and said "You know there is currently a special offer on this brand 3 for the price of one and I think the two gentlemen would like to try some on, you can go number 6"

"No, we're going-" Ty did not have the time to interject that the clerk disappeared into the storeI laughed and went into the stall. I rapidly got naked and put the small piece of fabric on. I looked at the poor triangle of fabric and realized it was written "See THE truth" on it, a weird name for a thong collection. Actually, Ty was right it fitted me perfectly I tried the ultimate exercise and squatted, The string rubbed onto my asshole which sent me to shiver but the whole thing was still intact and my junk was covered.

"Guys I think I'm buying it" I got outside the stall, I took a couple a funny and sexy pose while they were sitting on the black velvet couch. we all laughed.

"You're sure you want to buy it, you know it was a joke," Josh said more concerned.

"Yeah for real dude look my junk is maintained, that means no cock jumpscare like at Andrew's party, and look, I can fucking squat." I then proceeded to show them my ass.

"OH BOY! Man get this pussy out of my face" Ty laughed

The clerk came back and handed a baby blue mesh brief to Josh and a Hot pink bikini to Ty.

"Damn I like it feels reminds me of my old hair," Ty said entering the stall. Josh did the same.They both came out at the same moment.

"Those fit you really well" the clerk sat and I couldn't agree more but my mouth gasped when Josh took his hands off his groin. The Dudes cock was so heavy and huge. The mesh was doing nothing more but revealing the huge yet soft piece of meat.

"Man your packing," I said to him and he blushed. We all went back and changed.

"Do you need more or do you want to check out now?" the clerk said.

"I'd like to pay please," Ty said, I had won the bet though.

"Do you want to sign up for a membership for more offers?" We all looked at each other. When my turn came and I gave him my contact details, I felt a sizzling down my back.

"Oh, and because you signed up the store offers you this" He added three black see-through crop tops in our paper bag.

It was getting quite late so we decided to get back home.

During the drive home, no one talked and we just enjoyed the music. I drove my two mates to their places and then got home. I did my laundry fast so I could have the thong for the next day. I started making dinner since my father and brother weren't home yet. My brother worked for my father that was a lawyer so we had a pretty comfortable life.

I grew up in an athlete family my father was the quarterback in Uni, and my Brother was an elite-level swimmer, so it was in my genes to shine in baseball.

Our family photos ended up looking like those calendars with the hot men.

My mother was the same age as my father, they had us really young. They were eighteen when Adam was born and 22 when I was. My mother backed off really fast and disappeared from our lives when I was two so it was taboo to talk about her.

My father, Michael, was 43 and was a real dilf, I never saw him date someone but he could grab any chicks he wanted. And for my brother, he kinda looked like superman but the speedos he wore were much more filled.

We had dinner, and after saying everyone goodnight, I went to get my fresh laundry back. God bless technology.

I got back to my bathroom which was adjacent to my bedroom, I tried the thong again and it really suited me, it made my bulge look really nice u could distinguish my heavy shaved balls and soft cock.

I was getting horny so I got into the shower. I pinched my left nipple, and massaged my balls, the hot water was softening my muscles, and as my cock was hardening the uncut head appeared. I always percummed a lot so it was already all lubed. I slowly jerked off-hand on my chest and I don't know from where but I saw the lube bottle I generally used with girls. I took the lube, pour a little on my hand and I rubbed my finger against my hole. I felt an electric jolt.

"AaAAh" I moaned, iI was really an amazing sensation, I jerked harder and I felt it. There was this itch deep inside of me. I didn't think twice and pushed my finger. It was good but I could do more. I added a second finger then a third.

My hole was really hot and tight but my fingers weren't big enough. I turned the water off and dried myself completely frustrated. I put the thong back and it hit me, like a vision.

The thing I needed was in my drawer. So I locked the door and went to open my drawer and by surprise where I used to put my outstretched boxer (never forget the size of my butt), there were jockstraps, every color possible. I searched through it and found it. A hot pink realistic dildo.

The thing was like 7inches which is a very noble size. I wasted no time, lubed back my hole and I squatted on the neon pink cock. When the fake head entered me my eyes turned white, my knees weakened and the unexpected arrived, I fell. The 7inches of the dildo impaled me in a second

. My cock that wasn't in the thong pouch shot the biggest load of my whole life.

I needed like 20 minutes to get back on my feet the orgasm blew my mind, it was like fireworks inside of me. When I checked myself in the mirror my hole was like opening the closing quite fast. It was pretty hot actually. I cleaned everything and got to sleep.

Hello, Thanks for reading. This is a new story and I hope u like it. Actually it was an old story of mine that i posted under another name on this website but I wanted to improve it. In the comment tell me what u would like to see or what u thought.

If y'all want to chat or get the exclusive draft do not hesitate and send me a message on my twitter or by mail.

@oli_AndrewsgayD

oliverandrewsautor@gmail.com

Lots of love.

Oliver Andrews

[carynnhalen]

Club Olympus was one of Carynn’s favorite spots in Gotham to visit. Usually because security was lax and it was easy to sneak in without paying the cover fee. Maxie Zeus was doing another stint in Arkham, and that meant it would be easy to score free drinks. Carynn weaved her way through the crowd of dancing people and headed for the bar, shoving her way between a couple of frat boys who were trying to work up the courage to ask Deadshot for a photo.

The guy behind the bar sent her a nod in greeting. “Sup, Carynn. You workin’?” his name was Nick. She’d met him a few years ago when he worked in a hole in the wall bar Josie’s that was in Hells Kitchen. He was nice enough. He was one of the only guys Carynn knew that still had a mohawk, but he was nice enough. 

Carynn scrunched her nose, shaking her head. “Taking the night off,” she shouted over the music. “Needed some peace and quiet.” 

Nick laughed, setting two glasses out in front of her. “The usual?” it was a rhetorical question. Nick filled one glass to the brim with whiskey, the top shelf option tonight, and the other filled with a vodka soda. “You stay out of trouble.” he said with a wink, pushing the two glasses towards her. 

“Always do! Later, Nick.” she scooped up her drinks, expertly heading back through the crowd and up to a balcony that usually served to be a little more quiet than the rest of the club. She hadn’t really had much of a plan for her night off. Mostly she just needed to blow off some steam. Between Captain America showing up to her apartment, and her phone ringing almost non stop with calls from Bruce, things were getting a little too mysterious and heavy all at once. 

Carynn plopped down in a booth, her kicking up her booted feet up onto the table. Taking a generous sip of her vodka soda, she pulled her phone out of her jacket and unlocked the screen. More calls from Bruce. A text from Cel. A few notifications from Dante commenting on her Instagram. 

She scrolled through her contacts; Bruce (even though she kept deleting and blocking his number it still seemed to find it’s way back onto her phone), Cel, Dante, Oliver, a few numbers of work contacts...was that it? Carynn sighed, downing the rest of her drink and picking up the glass of whiskey.

“I see you still have no manners.” a voice said in Russian just before Carynn’s feet were shoved off of the table.

Carynn’s frowned, looking up from her phone. “What the fuck do you think you’re-...oh, Christ. It’s you,” she rolled her eyes at the woman that was now sliding into the booth across from her. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere skinning a puppy or something?”

Isabel Rochev. She was the current owner of Queen Industries and a certified nutjob. She smiled sweetly at Carynn, almost like she was happy to see her. She folded her gloved hands onto the table, leaning towards Carynn with interest. The large rock that had once belonged to Oliver’s mother was almost blinding in the flickering lights above them. 

“I’ve missed you too, Carynn.” she said again in Russian, passing a glance over her shoulder quickly before looking back at the red head. “You are hard to find. Not because you’re in hiding, but because you can’t seem to sit still. I almost thought I’d have to forego my little proposition.” 

“You could tell me Keanu Reeves is downstairs waiting to use me as a chew toy. I’d still tell you to fuck off, Isabel.” Carynn said, kicking her feet back up onto the table. 

Isabel laughed a genuine laugh. Like they were good friends catching up. “Unfortunately, that is not the offer I have for you. My contacts have told me that Oliver is on his way back to Gotham. I was hoping you and I could come to an...agreement. I know you and Oliver are not in the best of places. And I know that for the right price you remove problems.” 

Carynn had to admit, this was a first. She’d never really expected anyone to offer her cash to off Oliver. And maybe, if it had been anyone else sitting across from her, she might have considered the job. “If you want him gone you should do it yourself. Nothing says girl boss like killing your sugar daddy’s son...” she frowned, tilting her head. “Was he your sugar daddy? I’ve never really understood your relationship, at least aside from him definitely being married to someone else the entire time...” 

Isabel pursed her lips. “Do not patronize me, Carynn. You and I are far more alike than you will ever admit. You know this deep down. I am offering you a solution to both of our problems.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Carynn spat. “And Oliver isn’t my problem anymore. I don’t waste time thinking about him. I have bigger shit to worry about.”

“Well, what are these problems? Perhaps I can help you. We could form a partnership. Take what belongs to us. I have come a long way since I last saw you-” Isabel looked to her right, into the crowd below them. She visibly froze, her eyes set on something. 

Carynn leaned forward, trying to follow Isabel’s gaze. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The bar was a little less crowded now. Carynn could spot one of the exit doors nearby. There was someone standing next to it. She couldn’t really make him out. Long, dark hair. A leather jacket. The black mask covering his nose and mouth stood out the most, but in a place like Gotham it was definitely not the craziest thing she’d seen. 

Isabel looked over her shoulder once more, nodding quickly. A tall man, who Carynn assumed had to be Isabel’s security, stepped towards them. He looked down into the crowd, surveying the area before speaking into an earpiece. Isabel turned her attention back to Carynn, her smile more nervous now than genuine. 

“I must go. Something has come up...please, think of my offer,” she set her clutch on the table, fishing through it before pulling out a business card. “This is where you can reach me. The number is safe, don’t worry. I hope to hear from you soon, Carynn.” 

Carynn watched Isabel walk off with her security guard before sinking down further into her seat and groaning. So much for peace and quiet. She picked up the card, rolling her eyes at the idea of taking up Isabel’s offer. Another number to put in my phone, at least, Carynn thought with a sigh. 

She tossed back the rest of her drink, slipping her phone and Isabel’s card back into her pocket before sliding out of the booth. Maybe she’d go to another club, maybe she’d head home, she wasn’t sure yet. 

Carynn headed downstairs, waving at Nick before slipping out of the same exit that Isabel’s mysterious friend had been standing next to just a few moments before. Carynn didn’t really care who he was to Isabel. Maybe he was some pissed off ex boyfriend, maybe he wanted to kill her. Who could really know? Carynn just didn’t want any part of whatever shit storm Isabel was no doubt stirring up. 

The alleyway outside of the club was quiet tonight. Usually there were a few people milling around, someone puking into the dumpster or arguing about what club to hit up next. Maybe it was still too early for that. Or maybe Batman was out patrolling and had spooked them all. 

The closer she got to the mouth of the alley, Carynn realized she could hear another heartbeat. It was slow, very quiet. Maybe someone passed out in the trash? That was definitely nothing she hadn’t seen before. She slowed down a little, pulling her phone out to pretend she was busy as she approached the dumpster. 

The smell wafting from it nearly smacked her across the face. It wasn’t a bad smell. Completely the opposite. Sort of a smoky yet spicy smell that made her mouth water like in the fall when Pauli’s Diner was serving pumpkin pie. Carynn leaned forward to try and get a look at whoever it was hiding by the dumpster. 

Something hit her like freight train. 

Carynn had been completely caught off guard. Her back smacked against the brick wall, pain radiating down her spine. Her attacker’s hand was around her throat, the gloved hand making her gurgle as she struggled to breathe. Her vision blurred in and out, but she could just barely make out the man that Isabel had been watching just minutes ago. 

“How do you know Isabel? What were you discussing?” more Russian, great. This was very, very, very not good. 

His hand was like an iron clamp around her throat. She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to. Carynn reached out, swiping blindly at his face to scratch him. 

Mister tall, dark and creepy let her go with an eye roll. Carynn slouched against the wall, coughing. “Talk.” he spat. 

He had gotten the upper hand on her once, that much she could admit. That wasn’t something that would happen again. “I don’t know anything,” Carynn snapped back in English. “It’s not like we’re friends. She’s a pain in the ass...! Look, I don’t want any trouble, okay? I don’t really have much info-”

She pulled the knife she had clipped to her belt free and lunged forward. Her mystery man moved quickly, but not quickly enough. The blade pierced through his jacket, grazing his skin. 

He grabbed her throat again, slamming Carynn back into the brick wall. She’d been expecting something like that. She grabbed her knife, getting a better grip of it and kicking her feet up against his chest and using all of her weight to shove him away. 

Carynn rushed forward, Dark and Emo blocking her physical blows easily. He moved just as quickly as she did. Now that they were both fully alert, it was difficult for either of them to get a good hit in. Carynn noticed that he didn’t guard his left arm as vigorously as his right, and she saw a window of opportunity. 

She tried to bury her knife into his left bicep. It ripped through his jacket, but the sound that was almost like nails on a chalkboard made Carynn flinch and jump back from him. The blade of her knife had been almost snapped in half. “What the fuck...” she muttered, tossing the dagger aside. 

Her opponent leaned down, pulling a large, tactical knife that was strapped to his boots. He lunged towards her, Carynn throwing her arms up in front of her to block his swing. She kicked down hard at his shin, throwing him slightly off balance as he tossed the knife from one hand to his other, the blade stabbing through her jacket.

Carynn slipped down and around him, jumping onto his back. Her legs wrapped tightly around his wait, she put him into a headlock. Terminator man didn’t seem very panicked, regardless of his airway being cut off. He spun around, slamming Carynn into the wall a few times in an attempt of knocking her off of him. 

Her grip around his throat loosened, instead she decided to try and pull his mask off to get a better look at who was trying to attack her. Unfortunately that distraction left her open, and the man sunk his knife into her thigh. Carynn screamed out in pain, her opponent tossing her off of him easily.

She landed on the ground with a thud. She had to move quickly. He was stomping towards her, his hands clenched at his sides. Carynn ripped the knife from her leg with a grunt. This would definitely slow her down. She couldn’t afford to be slow. 

Carynn tossed the knife. It was better to keep him from it than having it to defend herself. The Masked Douchebag bent forward to grab her ankle. Carynn kicked at him, but he easily smacked her leg away. He lifted her up, slamming her into the wall. Carynn fell face down, groaning loudly. Get up, get up, get up, she told herself. 

The sound of boots stomping towards her made her panic. She reached inside of her bra as the stranger picked her up by her jacket, pulling out the pocket knife she kept there. Before he could throw her again, she plunged the knife into his side. This time it did more damage than ruining his clothes. 

He dropped her, grunting in pain and anger. Carynn used the distraction to push herself up off the ground, rushing away towards the dumpster to put distance between them. Her leg gave out from under her, and she fell into a pile of trash bags. 

Her opponent pulled the knife from his side, once again tossing it aside and heading straight for Carynn. She scrambled backwards, freezing at the sound of a phone ringing. The two went still, looking at each other as the ringing filled the alley way. 

The man reached into his jacket, pulling a flip phone out. “We have spotted the target. Enough of whatever it is you are doing. Get to the bottom of whatever Isabel has planned.” someone said on the other line. 

“Yes sir,” the Masked Asshole said. “Send me the address. I will find her.” he closed his phone, his eyes trained on Carynn. And as quickly as the altercation had started, it was suddenly over. He turned, grabbing his knife from the ground and wiping it clean on his pants. Without looking back at her, he strolled off and out of the alley way as if nothing had happened.

Carynn let out a loud, relieved sigh and sank back into the trash bags. “Holy fuck that hurts,” she hissed out, grabbing at her thigh. Her hands were covered in warm, sticky blood. “These are my favorite pants...I’m gonna find you you goddamn bastard!” she shouted after the stranger. 

She groaned, pulling out her phone. She would heal eventually, but now there was no way she’d be able to make it home on her own. And taxi drivers didn’t like it so much when you bled all over their seats. She opened up a new message, pinging her location and typing the word help to Dante. 

“I fucking hate this city.” she sighed, leaning back to look up at the starry sky above her.

[f0rever15elf]

Cozy

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x f!reader Rating: G Word Count: 1,749 Warnings: I say bitch like...twice? A little bit of angst about life being hard. Super Soft!Jack, no beta

Summary: Late night, come home. Work sucks, I know. He left you roses by the stairs. Surprises let you know he cares. 

A/N: Yes, I never left my emo phase, thank you for noticing. No, I don’t regret blatantly ripping off Blink-182 for the summary. It fits. I wrote this piece for my dear friend @whiskeyslasso​ <3 I hope this makes your morning a little bit sweeter, dear. 

Masterlist |  Ao3

Some days, life is hard. Some days, the weight of existence can be so heavy it’s unbearable. Some days, all you want to do is lay down and bawl your eyes out, disappearing into the shadows. And those days...those are the days that Jack Daniels would bring down the heavens for you, if only you should ask.

Work had been, to put it simply, an absolute bitch. Nothing had gone as it should have, and somehow it was all your fault. Or so your boss had said, anyways. Not that you paid her too much heed, but the constant berating eventually takes its toll. By the end of the day, you want nothing more than to just go home and sit under your shower until the water ran cold, letting it take all your stress and issues down the drain. But the minute you walked in the front door, your intentions to wallow in the shower were thwarted.

The lights in the already cozy house were low, lower than you remembered them being able to get. It took you a minute to realize that it was candles causing the warm and comforting glow. All candles. Little tea lights up to those big, expensive, three woodwick candles that you fawned over every time you went to the store. The house smelt amazing, like fresh baked cookies and spiced chai, your absolute favorite on cold winter days, and you could hear the crackle of the fireplace in the living room. The house is warm and comforting, quickly chasing away the cold from your bones.

“Jack?” you call from the hallway, taking off your shoes as you make your way inside. You find him in the kitchen, a Texas sized smile on his face with his ‘kiss the cook’ apron tied around him and covered in flour.

“There you are, Sugar. I’ve been getting ready for you to come home.” He takes off the flour covered apron, making his way around to you to pull you into his arms, holding you securely to his chest. The strong heartbeat under your ear chips away a little at the misery that seems to be clouding your entire being at the moment, but you’re still too tired to wrap your arms back around him. You take a deep breath, breathing in the smell of that rich cologne he always wore around you, like worn leather and spiced maple. You had fallen in love with it when he brought you with him to try new scents and now it was the only thing he would wear around you. He’d never tell you, but one of his favorite things is when your hugs linger just a little longer than normal so you can enjoy how he smells in it.  

“Today was..so bad, Jack,” you whisper into his chest as his fingers thread through your hair in the most soothing of manners as he holds you a little tighter.

“I could tell from your text, Darlin’. It’s why I’ve taken the liberty of preparin’ the most comforting of evenin’s for you.” He pulls back just a bit, lifting your chin to smile down at you before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Fresh cookies and your favorite chai. Went and got a few of those Woodwicks you’ve been raving about too, and there’s plenty of cozy blankets on the sofa. Figured we’d snuggle on in for the evenin’ and watch your favorite movies. How does that sound?” His thumb rubs lightly along your chin as he still holds your face up to him and for the first time that day, you feel yourself smiling. It’s small, but it’s there, and Jack returns it with one so bright, you can’t help the warmth that runs through you, slowly bringing your hands up to rest on his waist.

“Thank you, love. So much.” Your voice is soft, afraid that if you talk too loudly it might break. He continues to smile, leaning in to kiss you gently once more. You could melt into the feeling of his lips on yours. Kissing him just felt so...good, so right.  

“Now, I just pulled your PJs from the dryer so they should still be nice ‘n’ warm. Go get cleaned up and cozy, and I’ll meet you in the living room, alright?” You nod and he lets go of your face, cupping your cheek gently as you nod. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before you turn to head upstairs, giving your butt a gentle pat as you so so, causing your cheeks to flush with heat. Your heart melts further when you make it up to the bedroom and see it all laid out. The plushest blankets Jack owned were turned down on the bed, and he had strung those faerie lights you had been begging him to get for weeks now all across the room. There was a vase of more roses than you could count on your side of the bed, and a neatly wrapped candy bar with a gorgeous little bow rested on your pillow. He’d pulled out your softest PJ pants, the ones covered in the cute little animals in scarves, and had grabbed one of his larger shirts to pair with it. He knew how much you loved wearing his clothes. You were at the point where you could honestly start crying, it was all so perfect after such a shit day it bordered on overwhelming. God, Jack Daniels was perfect, and you felt like the luckiest woman in existence.

Stripping out of your work clothes, you quickly change into the still-warm PJs before washing your face, trying to imagine the hot water washing away everything about today. You take a moment to look in the mirror and sigh. She looks so tired. Tossing the towel down, you make your way back downstairs to see Jack setting the mugs and tray of cookies on the coffee table. He glances up to you and smiles that charming smile of his before taking a seat on the couch, holding his arms out for you.

“C’mere, Beautiful,” he drawls and you all but run to him, climbing on to the couch and collapsing into his strong embrace. His arms hold you to him, safe and secure, and you relax into the feeling of home. Nothing could touch you here, not with Jack holding you like this. His hand runs up and down your back soothingly, rubbing away the stresses of the day as he clicks on the TV. “Which movie first, Darlin’?” He speaks softly, gently, and you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. It paired deliciously with the low crackle of the fire, a perfect match.

“That one,” you reply just as softly, pointing to your absolute favorite feel-good movie and he chuckles, selecting it before setting the remote down and grabbing you a cookie. You take it happily, letting the warmth from the pastry travel up your fingers. You can feel Jack’s eyes on you as you take a bite, letting out a quiet mewl of pleasure a the warm, buttery, chocolaty taste.

“Made ‘em from scratch, just like my mama use to make ‘em for me.” He places a sweet kiss to the top of your head as you eat, all the while making happy sounds. When you finish, you grin up at him, a twinkle returning to your eyes.

“That was the best cookie I have ever had, Jack. Your mama would be so proud.” His cheeks tinge pink at the praise and he chuckles again, the vibrations in his chest pleasant against you.

“Well now, looks like you got a bit of chocolate on your lip there. Here, let me get that for you.” He tilts your head up, leaning in to kiss you, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip to collect the little bit of chocolate that was there before pulling away. “You know, I’d reckon it tastes even better on your lips than it does in the cookies.” He winks at you before settling back into the couch, and you giggle like a high school girl, hiding your face against his broad chest.

The whole evening, Jack never leaves your side, keeping you cuddled up to him as much as he can. As the exhaustion of the day meets up with the comfort and peace the love of your life brings you, you begin to find it hard to keep your eyes open and focused on the TV. Jack’s steady breathing and heart beat paired with the down right obscene amount of blankets the two of you had nested yourselves in was the perfect place to slowly doze off, the misery of the day completely forgotten. You’re awoken for just a moment at the feeling of being carried, looking up in confusion as you try to reorient yourself.

“Easy there, Darlin’,” Jack whispers to you, careful to not break the stillness of the night with words too loud. “We’re goin’ to bed now is all.” He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head once again as you make it to the top of the stairs. You know Jack is strong, this wasn’t the first time he’s carried you, but it still made your heart flutter the way it did the very first time he picked you up. Carefully, he lays you in bed, helping you get comfy before pulling the blankets up around you, kissing your lips then your forehead like you are the most precious thing in this world. And to him, you absolutely are. A strong, gentle, gun-calloused hand brushes the hair from you face and cups for cheek for a moment and your eyes stubbornly refusing to open in your state of sleepiness. You hear him faintly, like in a dream, as he changes as well, sliding into bed with you, pulling you to his chest. He would keep you safe tonight, keep the bad dreams away. You melt into his hold, your body finally completely relaxing against him as he molds his body to yours.

The last thing you remember before slipping into a peaceful slumber is his voice murmuring to you, “My strong little sunflower, I love you so much. I’m so proud of you.” You let out a content sigh as you finally drift to sleep in the arms of the man who held your heart completely. Things simply couldn’t be more perfect.

~~~~~

Taglist:  Permanent: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​, @tangledlove27​, @paintballkid711​, @lose-eels​, @adamdrivercouldchokeme​

[skinsharpenedteeth]

No clue what to call this one...

It’s PunkRock!Michael and Emo!Alex AU that pretty much no one asked for. That being said, it’s for @litwitlady per our previous conversation about the subtle difference with punk and emo kids.  As a warning, it fluff n smut.

              The ground vibrated under Alex Manes bright red converse and he wondered if he’d be able to hear anything once this night was over. He’d found the furthest wall and decided to hold it up for the evening as he waited for Maria to get done with her one-woman-mission to fuck SOMEONE in this derelict house that operated as a “music venue”. All the rooms were lit with harsh yellow lighting, bereft of all but the most untrustworthy looking furniture, and there were dents and holes in walls all over the place. Alex was a little afraid the second floor would cave in at some point and he’d have to find out that people actually lived here.

Looking back up towards the corner of what was once considered the dining room of the house, he was happy to see that he couldn’t see Maria anymore. Maybe she’d gotten lucky faster than he’d figured she would and soon they’d be able to get out of here. But that might still take a while, so Alex slid down the wall and took out the book he’d been reading about the perks of being a wallflower. He noted someone coming to stand next to him in this periphery but didn’t look up. He didn’t want to engage anyone here and the bouncing of their leg by his shoulder made him sure they weren’t looking to engage him either since they seemed to be enjoying the band.

               When the band finally wound down, the figure that had been standing next to him practically fell onto the floor in a heap of legs and elbows. He turned to look and saw it was Michael Guerin, probably the most serious, mysterious, hard core punk kid at his school. His blonde curly hair had been streaked with green and slicked back from his face. He didn’t wear any make-up like some of the punk kids did or Alex himself for that matter. He had on a D.A.R.E. shirt with the sides and sleeves ripped off which showed off his lithe, strong body when he slumped forward. The shirt was tucked into tight black jeans with safety pinned holes up and down the legs. He wore the rattiest shit-kicker boots Alex had ever seen which were covered with patches, pins, and spikes. He’d left his spiked bracelets and collar that he’d worn at school at home for the evening and Alex felt like he was almost seeing him naked. Which wasn’t unwelcome because for all Michael Guerin’s faults, being unattractive was not among them.

              “Having fun?” Michael asked, looking over at him in between nodding and slapping hands with various people milling around in the crowd. The band was breaking down their gear and everyone was moving to other parts of the house or out into the yard between acts. Alex pursed his lips at him and went back to his book. He was sure he was just fucking with him. Michael Guerin didn’t make small talk. He mostly just stalked the halls and kept his head down in classes. Alex couldn’t look at him without rolling his eyes sometimes, he was such a cliché.

              “I, uh, don’t think I’ve seen you at many of these. Thought you liked fuckin’ Panic! At the Disco and shit…” he continued, sneaking looks over at Alex. Alex sighed through his nose loudly. Apparently, they were going to do this tonight.

              “I’m here with Maria,” Alex finally responded, still not looking up from the book he was frankly only pretending to read at this point.

              “Oh? I saw her leave with one of the guitarists from the first band. Was she your ride?” Michael asked, sounding nervous. Alex did look at him then, trying to see if he was just fucking with him or if he was being sincere. When he decided he couldn’t tell, he dug his phone out of his back pocket and saw a missed call and a text from Maria.

>Found something strange and hopefully wonderful. Won’t be back tonight.

              “God fucking damnit, Maria,” Alex exclaimed, almost throwing his phone in frustration.

              “So I guess that’s a yes?” Michael asked a little sheepishly.

              “This is why you never see me at these things. I don’t have a fucking car and my ride likes to fuck strangers and ends up deserting me. I fucking know better. Ugh, fucking Maria,” he raged. Michael watched him at it for a while. Meanwhile the other band had finished setting up and people were starting to filter back into the room. Alex looked around at the people and groaned, just wanting to leave and get out of here.

              “Hey, come on. Let’s go outside. It’s about to get loud,” Michael suggested, standing up and offering Alex his hand. Alex absently noted that his fingernails were painted, though the polish was cheap and had already chipped off in several places. At the first screech of feedback from the amps, Alex grabbed his hand and let Michael pull him up. He shoved the paperback into his back pocket and looked Guerin in the eyes, feeling a fluttery feeling in his chest when their eyes met. He was a bit surprised when Michael didn’t immediately drop his hand, but instead held it while leading him through the dingy kitchen and out to the backyard area. A group of smokers hung around the door chatting and they called ‘Hey-o!’ in excitement when they saw Michael. He waved and grinned at them but kept tugging Alex with him until they were past the property line. Apparently, someone had found a couch on the side of the road and had moved it out into the undeveloped desert behind the house to stare out at the dark nothing beyond. When they reached the front of the couch Michael finally let go of his hand and flopped down on the cushions at one end with a sigh.

              “Uh, what are we doing?” Alex asked, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone had followed them. He shuffled a little and stared down at the orange and white plaid couch dubiously.

              “We’re hanging out. Chill, sit down, enjoy the night with me. We’ll still be able to hear the band from here,” he added, patting the spot next to him.

              “Oh, goody,” Alex remarked sarcastically before sitting himself down on the cushion farthest from Michael’s. He still didn’t quite trust his intentions, but he was glad to be out of the house. They could, in fact, here the band still, but the lyrics were muffled and it almost sounded like the songs had a melody this far out.

              “So, what’s up with the finger bruises on your arm?” Michael asked, pointing towards where Alex’s shirt sleeves had ridden up when he’d finally sat down. “Girlfriend like to get a little rough?”

              “Uhh…. That would be pretty remarkable since I’m totally gay and you know it. Like, everyone knows it,” Alex accused, deflecting his question about the bruises. He didn’t want to talk about his problems with strangers. As hot as this guy was, he was still a stranger. Michael smiled widely at him.

              “I didn’t know if that was a rumor or what, man,” he replied easily, seeming to take Alex’s correction in stride. For some reason that threw Alex off. He’d been waiting for an attack.

              “Oh,” Alex said, feeling a little deflated, “Well, it’s not. I’m gay. Does that make you want to run back to the party? Afraid someone will see you out here with the emo faggot?”

              Michael’s smile fell and he looked a little insulted. Alex almost apologized, but he didn’t owe this punk anything and he kind of wanted to see how he reacted to some pushing. His tone was less congenial when he finally answered.

              “I don’t give a fuck who you’re into. Love is love. What I do want to know is who the fuck keeps bruising you up all the time? Those aren’t love taps I saw on your ribs the other day in the locker room and you don’t skate or play sports. Who’s fucking you up?”

              He sounded mad, indignant on behalf of a stranger. On behalf of Alex, who was not used anyone giving a shit about him. It was a new feeling for Alex to have someone pay that much attention to him and care that he was being hurt. But he couldn’t just say ‘My dad knocks me around because I crave cock and hate the military’ so he kept his mouth shut and Michael watched him stay silent, watched him tense up with his shoulders closer to his ears and wrap his arms around his body. He obviously wasn’t going to say anything so Michael tried a different tactic.

              “The foster family I’m with right now… they’re alright. But the family I was with before them? Fucking meth heads. And meth heads get mean when they’re coming down,” Michael said, turning and pulling his shirt over his head to show Alex his back. There were long thin grooves over the middle of his back and little round scars like burns. “Not all that is the meth heads. The long scars were from the religious zealots I got put with a couple years ago. Being exorcised isn’t fun, but the lead up was worse.”

              Alex stared at the skin in horrified fascination, moving closer to see them better in the faint light of the moon. Before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching out to trace along one of the scars with his fingers, but at the last minute came to his senses and brought his hand back.

              “That’s awful, Michael,” Alex whispered. Michael pulled his shirt back down and turned to him, a bittersweet smile on his face.

              “Well, it’s all healed over now. Right now, no ones hurting me. So, who’s hurting you? Are you getting bullied? I know that Valenti kid is a fucking homophobic piece of shit jock bully, but if he’s literally beating you up I will get my boys and we’ll tear his ass in two,” Michael threatened with passion. Alex looked at him, feeling his face soften at how serious Michael was.

              “You can’t defend me like that. Kyle’s a fucking jerk, but he’s not doing this. It’s..uh… It’s my dad. He’s the one hitting me,” Alex admitted quietly. Somewhere in the middle of his confession, he had started to find his own hands fascinating. So fascinating he couldn’t look up to see Michael’s expression over his confession, but instead just kept watching the way his skin pulled taut when he interlaced them and twisted one way or the other. One of Michael’s hands came into his view then and covered his own, stopping their anxious twisting. Alex froze and waited.  He didn’t know what reaction he was hoping for but he felt himself bracing for it.

              “Do you have somewhere to go to get away from him?” Michael asked, his voice now quiet next to Alex’s ear. The hand not on Alex’s came to rest between his shoulder blades, thumb rubbing soothing circles through the cotton of his shirt. Alex felt his body relax a fraction, slumping a little as he realized he wasn’t about to be attacked.

              “Yeah, yeah. I have friends who will let me stay with them,” Alex managed to get out through the thickness in his throat.

              “Add me to that list,” Michael said. Alex’s head jerked up to look at him and he realized he was only a couple breaths away from him. “I’m serious. Add me to the list of people you can call if you need an out. I’ve got a truck, I’ll come get you. No questions asked, nothing owed.”

              “You don’t know me, Guerin,” Alex said in the stillness between them. He couldn’t stop his gaze from moving from his perfect hazel eyes down to his lips. He suddenly knew he wanted to kiss this guy. Whatever happened after was fine, but he wanted to do something reckless. Michael was pushing a long piece of hair back behind Alex’s ear and looking at him fondly and it made Alex’s gut clench with want.

              “Sometimes people do nice things without an expectations. It’s been known to happen,” he replied. Alex nodded and swallowed, suddenly filled with nerves again, though for a very different reason than before.

He saw Michael watching him, watching the way his eyes kept darting down to look at his lips, watching the way he mirrored licking them with his own. Slowly Michael leaned forward, closing the distance between them and pressed his lips against Alex’s. Alex was cupping his jaw and keeping him close before Michael could back away and end the kiss. Alex opened his lips, his tongue lickeding over Michael’s in a request and a question. This wasn’t Alex’s first kiss, but it was the first one he was adamant about pursuing further. Michael hummed deep in his throat and opened to Alex’s advances, letting him explore his mouth with his tongue before doing the same with his own. Alex felt breathless and elated. He didn’t care that the music in the background was hardcore punk being played so badly Syd Vicious would be rolling over in his grave. He didn’t care that he was kissing Michael on a dirty, half rotten couch out in the desert where anyone could see them and tell his father what he’d been doing with another boy. He didn’t care that Maria had left him to fend for himself so she could chase boys. This half-crazed make out session with Michael Guerin was making it the best night of his life so far.

              Maybe it was the lack of oxygen or the adrenaline of being seen by someone he’d never admitted to himself that he’d always been hyperaware of, but Alex couldn’t stop his hands from falling from Michael’s jaw and starting to grope at the skin exposed by the open sides of Michael’s shirt. In response, Michael turned his body and started to pull Alex until he was sitting straddled across his lap. Then it was Michael’s turn to slip his hands under the hem of Alex’s shirt and let his hands slide over the muscles of his back and waist. When it became too much, Alex finally broke their never-ending kiss to gasp air into his lungs. Michael didn’t miss a beat, his mouth attaching itself to Alex’s neck with sucking, stinging kisses that made Alex want to go crazy.

              “Fuck,” Alex groaned when he felt Michael’s fingers start to slip past the waist band of his jeans. It was so hot to feel him against his skin. It was too much, though, just too much with someone he’d really just been introduced to. “Wait, wait, wait! We gotta slow down…”

              Michael groaned and buried his head against Alex’s shoulder, hands immediately coming out from under his shirt and wrapping him up in a hug. Alex slowly withdrew his own hands, resting them on Michael’s shoulders while they both calmed down and regained their breath.

              “Sorry,” Michael murmured against his shirt before lifting his head and giving him a quick, close-mouthed kiss. “Sorry.”

              Alex smiled and laughed a little, rubbing his hands up and down Michael’s upper arms while he gathered himself. He was nervous about having stopped them, but he was still so fucking happy about what had happened.

              “It’s okay. All of that was okay, I just… Where did this come from? You don’t even know me, you’ve never talked to me at school or even, like, acknowledged my presence…” Alex said, eyes flickering over Michael’s face. He saw the way his expression went soft and slightly incredulous.

              “I may not know your favorite color, but I’ve wanted to kiss your emo eyeliner wearing ass since my first day at Roswell High. You’re always being so snarky and bratty to everyone and then when you’re with your friends? Your smile lights up the place and it’s so rare to see, but so fucking beautiful. It’s just… man, fuck school. Fuck those people. Fuck the kids, fuck the adults, fuck the institution. They’re answering just enough of the questions to keep us from asking more. It’s a fucking joke. I’m not in the right headspace at school. You’re about the only good thing about showing up every day. Just seeing you makes me hate humanity a little less.”

              Alex felt the heat of a blush infusing his face, but he also couldn’t stop smiling. This guy. This fucking guy.

              “Your,uh… your smile is pretty great too. I think tonight’s the first time I’ve even ever seen you smile,” Alex commented, his arms wrapping comfortably around Michael’s neck. Michael’s lips widened into a cheesy approximation of a smile that really just showed all his teeth with his lips pulled back while he crossed his eyes.

              “Oh my God, staaahhhp,” Alex said laughing at the stupid face. When Michael let his features relax back to normal, Alex darted in and kissed him. He meant for it to be one kiss, but it quickly turned into more as the heat which had been banked earlier, now came back to life with more energy.

              “Can we lay down? My legs are going to sleep,” Michael mumbled between kisses against Alex’s lips. Alex jumped and was about to scramble back and off his legs when he felt Michael’s hands under his butt and then he was being tilted backwards until his back rested against the cushions.

              “I shudder to think what’s on these pillows,” Alex grumbled even as he widened his legs and let Michael sink between them to rest his body against Alex’s. The weight and friction felt amazing. He suddenly didn’t care about the scratchy upholstery where his shirt at ridden up his back. He just wanted Michael’s mouth back on his and to keep feeling his body writhing on top of him.

              “You want to add to the mess?” Michael asked after breaking their kiss, raising an eyebrow and smiling mischievously. Alex looked at him confused for a moment and then his eyes followed Michael’s hand as it slid down to his own jeans, flicking the button open and leaving his hand on the zipper tongue. Alex’s eyes widened and he shot up to meet Michael in a kiss before glancing back down between them. It was so hot. He could tell Michael wasn’t wearing any underwear and his pants were almost painfully tight against his own body. “Alex?”

              “Fuck, yes. So much yes. All the yes. Enthusiastic conset given,” Alex babbled between kisses, his hands sliding down to start undoing his own jeans. Michael’s hand followed his, pushing his away so he could cup Alex through the black cotton of his boxer briefs. Alex felt like he could come just from that. His body was vibrating, breath caught in his throat as he gasped at the feeling of someone else’s hand so close to his own dick. He wanted to reciprocate. He wanted to touch Michael back so with shaky hands, he slowly pulled down Michael’s zipper and pushed aside the fabric of his pants. He felt the velvety skin against the back of his hand and then he pulled it out. Michael was uncircumcised. Alex felt like he knew this somewhere in his hind brain from talk or the locker room showers or something, but it was different when it was something you glanced while trying to hide as much of your own body as possible. Now it was thick and heavy in his hand. The foreskin moved in such a hypnotic way as Alex pulled and then pushed gently until he could see the wet, spongey head of Michael’s cock. It was giving him all sorts of scary, wonderful ideas of things he wanted to do and try that was definitely way too fast for a random hook up on a murder couch.

              “Does it freak you out?” Michael asked, voice a little breathy as he held still and let Alex play with him. Alex shook his head slowly, still watching his own hand as he jacked Michael’s cock, thumb swiping and spreading the precome over the head. Finally, Alex’s brain came back online and he looked up into Michael face. His eyes had closed and his mouth hung slightly slack. He looked like he was in pain, but he was enjoying every second of it. Alex didn’t stop his hand movements as he raised himself up enough to capture Michael’s bottom lip between his own. Immediately Michael responded, returning the kiss hungrily. His hand had stayed over Alex’s underwear, but now he pulled and tugged at the offending garment until he could get it far enough down to sit under Alex’s balls.

              “OOhhhhh my God,” Alex cried out as Michael’s hand finally grasped flesh and he was overwhelmed by the heat of his hand and the roughness of his skin.

              “You alright?” Michael asked, keeping his hand still to make sure Alex was still game. Alex nodded and sank back down against the sofa cushions. Michael was giving him a curious look from where he was holding himself up on one arm. Alex laughed a little and moved his hand to grip the back of Michael’s neck fondly.

              “That feels so much better when someone else is doing it,” Alex admitted a little shyly. Alex was afraid this was going to become a Conversation, but thankfully Michael just smiled softly at him and moved back down onto his forearm so he could kiss Alex while still having enough room between their bodies for their hands. Michael’s hand was a little dry on him, but he didn’t care. It still felt amazing and everytime their knuckles bumped against each other a zing of pleasure rocketed up his spine. He was doing this to someone else. Someone else was touching him. It was a-fucking-mazing. He started to feel a familiar tightness beginning in his core, his body winding itself tighter before it let go. He broke away from Michael’s mouth, panting and making pained little “Ah” sounds against his cheek.

              “Fuck, Michael, I’m about to—I’m going to—” he was trying to get out, even as his vision narrowed and his body became a singular being of exquisite pleasure. He felt Michael’s mouth cover his and then his own hand was wet as well. When it was over they laid there, panting against each other and then Michael tipped sideways to wall onto his side between Alex and the back of the couch.

              “Shit,” Michael said succinctly, cheek against Alex’s shoulder and breath still short. Alex just nodded and looked down at himself. There was come all over his shirt. His come, Michael’s come, marring the black in white, viscous stripes.

              “Shit,” he repeated after Michael, his voice less in awe now that it was time for clean up. Michael looked down at his shirt and honest to god giggled a little. He brought his come covered hand up and wiped it over a clean expanse of Alex’s tee.

              “Hey! I gotta wear this home!” Alex exclaimed, battling Michael’s hand away.

              “No you don’t. Follow me to my truck, I’ll let you borrow a shirt. This one is fucking toast,” Michael snickered. Alex looked down again and had to agree. Soon after, they tucked themselves back up into their jeans and got off the couch. Alex found himself a little wobbly after the high of an orgasm. Michael caught him with a hand on waist and kissed his cheek.

              “You get a little come drunk. Noted for next time.”

              “So there will be a next time?” Alex asked, suddenly finding he was nervous to hear the answer.

              “If you want there to be a next time, then yeah,” Michael said, holding out his hand to take Alex’s. Alex looked at it for a second and then up at Michael’s guileless face. He smiled then and reached his hand out to hold onto Michael’s. They slowly made their way around the outside of the house where the music was still rattling the glass panes left in the windows and out to the street where Michael had parked his truck. Alex stripped off his shirt and handed it off to Michael as Michael pawed through a backpack of clothes he kept under the passenger’s seat. Finally, he passed over a black Misfits shirt. When Alex put it on he noticed it smelled like rain, dust, and sage brush. It wasn’t a bad smell and in fact made him want to bury his nose in the collar to train it to memory. It was how Michael smelled and that wasn’t a bad thing.

              “Want a ride home?” Michael asked a little shyly as he tugged the bottom of his shirt on Alex’s body in some attempt to ‘straighten it’.

              “Sure,” Alex agreed, climbing in the passenger’s seat and buckling in. Michael closed his door for him and ran over to the driver’s side, climbing in and starting up the car. As soon as they were on the road, Alex slid his hand over the seat between them in a silent request for Michael to hold his hand. With a quick smile, Michael did.

[mami-koppe]

Desperate - Dabi x Reader

This is my first fic ever in this fandom pls be gentl. no beta reader WE DIE LIKE SCUM. Also please note that english is not my native language so if you find something wrong *please* point it out 👀 Enjoy!

TW: smut, angst, mentions of drug use and abortion, violence, yadda yadda. aaa

Cyan eyes open up, alarmed and scared and anxious, only relaxing when following the rise and fall of the lump under the white comforter set just beside him. He knows he shouldn't be here; he's had a few more nightmares about a fellow villain finding out about your existence than he was comfortable with. In his dreams they would tear down your house, break the heirloom grandfather clock in your hallway, ravage all the cabinets and drawers (maybe they would find that picture of him under your Christmas-decorated pine tree, the only proof you had of his existence intermingled with yours, and you thought you hid it oh so well but Dabi's far more smarter than that). A shiver runs down his spine and he breaks a sweat when he imagines if Overhaul was the one raiding your apartment. The yakuza boss would most likely delight himself in breaking and putting you back together, again and again, only so he could leave in your bedroom wall a myriad of blood splatters for Dabi to find and grieve for. Chisaki would make sure he wouldn't even have a body to bury. Maybe if he was feeling lucky, not even a brick of your house would be intact, your whole life only resisting in Dabi's memory.

He wishes he could be honourable and selfless enough to say that's the main reason he never bothered to officialise your relationship; but even greater than the fear of coming home and finding your body reduced to a pulp, is the fear of being vulnerable (yet again). He kinda cares about you, yes, he can say that much, and anyone who has met you for more than 15 minutes know that you're in deep. He's not that emotionally stunted. But he's jaded enough to know that caring is a concept with many translations and definitions, and if you so happened to have a different one than he did, specially if that concept involved controlling and screaming and fighting and black bruises all over his back while his skin burned off at every flash of his quirk painfully taking over his body ... He couldn't just sit down and wait to find out.

Also, you seem pretty fine with this arrangement. He has a knack this has less to do with letting him roam free range, and far more with knowing that as soon as you express the need to define the feelings that have grown stronger and stronger for over three years, he will be out the door to never come back. And that simply won't do.

Almost as sensing his distress, you wake up and wrap both your arms around his neck. He tenses for a fraction of second, then relaxes, reaching out for the cigarette pack you leave in the nightstand just for him.

_ "What's on your mind, babe? You seem real distracted. I know you're usually kinda emo but that much brooding just isn't you. Are you okay? Perhaps you're having... cravings again? Did something happen? Was it crusty fuck again? If he tried to decay your face again, I'm so gonna fuck him up..." You run his fingers through his coarse hair, trying to show your adoration while lightly pressing your lips to his jaw and he shudders both from your ministrations and the mentions of his past cravings.

_ "...Whoa whoa whoa, calm down princess. Why are you even awake? It's still really fucking early for so many questions. One would think you would be out like a light by now, since we had so much fun last night, but guess I haven't fucked you hard enough if you still have half a mind to think about all that, dollface. And fuck you, I'm not emo." – he stops, cringing at his out-of-nowhere flirting and vague answers, hoping you don't see right through his crude words, thrown around in case you haven't noticed he's been shaking for the last 20 minutes.

Please don't notice. Please let it go. Please don't point it out.

_ "...Yeah, maybe you're right. But I should be asking you the same, it's 2am and you still got the energy to lewd me. And YES you are emo and well fuck you too. Forget I asked anything, love, if you want to we can talk about that tomorrow morning. Can't afford to be tense when tomorrow's gonna be such a long day, right? So what do you say about letting me tire us both out so we can finally have a full cycle of sleep?", you say, and in that moment he knows that you know.

The sudden pause in your sleep ridden speech tells that you have at least an idea that he's not fine in the slightest, but decided to just ignore it, knowing that your black haired lover wouldn't want to talk about it anyway. So you lift a leg just above his hipbone to pull him closer to your hot, warm core, both of you still naked and spent from your previous lovemaking, one of the few displays of affection he's completely comfortable with.

He runs his hands all over your sides, commiting them to his memory (just in case common sense comes to you without knocking and you finally leave him); suddenly his hands find your hair and tug at your nape, pulling your neck back to find his charred lips. Your smells mingle together, and it's all a blur of smoke, sandalwood, scotch and black pepper.

You kiss him, bringing his mouth towards yours with fervor, while slowly stroking his manhood, pausing around his tip, smearing his precum on your mouth with your fingers (you know he loves seeing you covered in him, and after all these years he wouldn't man up and admit it freely, so you tease him to no end). He can't find it in himself to be rough to you tonight, but it seems you have different plans because it doesn't look like you'll be patient enough for foreplay; and in a blink you are tangled in a mess of sheets and legs and sweat, him sliding swiftly into your heat, appreciating the drag of his swollen tip inside your pussy, going in and out roughly, the fast paced rythm of your skin slapping together only stopping when you feel the familiar head rush of your impeding orgasm and the sensation of his white hot seed spilling deep inside your throbbing center.

His low moans fill the room as he feels you tightly clenching around him; you cannot follow him in his vocal declarations due to being physically incapable of screaming anymore, a mix of pleas and gasps falling out your lips as he bottoms out and groans your name, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. The space between your foreheads close, both heavily panting near each others mouths, following a kiss that's way too sweet considering your personalities.

For a moment, he kinda wants to say those damned three words, but he will be dead before he makes a fool of himself like that, so he kisses your forehead and pull you to his chest, helping himself to a now dreamless sleep.

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It's one of your biggest flaws yet: you are far worse in keeping secrets than you give yourself credit for.

In the five years you spent together, he has plenty of evidence to support this case – all the gifts that were supposed to be a surprise, the job promotion you were hoping to disclose about at a movie night in your house (that said promotion tumbling out of your mouth in one of your daily, unimportant phone calls), the stray cat you tried to adopt without his knowledge (because obviously he would say no without even thinking about it, but now Tama's getting fatter and meaner than ever and Dabi lives for it), and you always said it was the other way around, that Dabi was the one who was way too good at uncovering things that he wasn't supposed to.

And in that exact moment, he wishes you were wrong, because the ripped blue cardboard box he finds forgotten in your bathroom floor just behind the toilet – probably fallen, since it's a bad habit of yours to let your shit fall all over the floor and eventually forget to pick it up – looks too much like the ones he would see in drugstores and at that time Shigaraki made him work undercover for a week in a brothel to gather intel about a winged pro hero who was kind of a degenerate, and he freezes.

He sensed something wrong weeks ago, your delicious skin even more tender to the touch and your face perpetually stuck in a barely concealed frown. He tried to ask you what's the matter a few times, before finally granting you the same leniency given to him when he was having a bad day and wanted to be left alone.

Now the only things going through Dabi's head is "why didn't she tell me", "wasn't she on birth control", "what the fuck is going on" and suddenly he understands why his – wife? girlfriend? lover? fuck buddy? SHIT – always said that some things can't just be left ignored. He never wanted to get high so much in his life.

Like a man possessed, he goes through your trash (it's not like he's not used to some dumpster diving and other unsavoury survival skills, since being a kinda prolific villain can only happen so late in life and before that, you have an empty stomach and way less standards than you'd like to), pausing when he finds what he was dreading: a fucking plastic wire, adorned with two dark pink lines. His eyes begin to blur and he can only thank so much you're at work right now so you can't hear his raging shouts ressonating around your room.

-------------------------------------------------

He does what he does best: he ignores it, simply leaving it all exactly where he found it and waits for you to come home. He helps you cook your favourite meal – you insist it's his turn to choose, but he says he's craving yours – runs you a bath, making sure to douse every crevice of your body in that cherry body wash he loves to smell in you, makes love to you until your head spins and your body is feeling almost bloated with his essence.

Can't get anymore pregnant than that, huh?

He asks about your day, and you let it all out, and every time you make that face you do when you want to tell him something important, he kisses you until you're breathless and changes the subject.

He desperately hopes you choose to keep it.

Then, after you're sleeping soundly on his naked chest, he brings out the duffel bag he hid earlier beneath his side of the bed, gets dressed, gives Tama his beloved wet food, sitting him down for a few minutes of belly rubs and leaves your home, his home, sending you a text through his burner phone that tells you too much about an undercover mission for the LOV that might last for years and none about where your relationship stands.

He's never felt so inadequate. Suddenly he hates being a villain.

He hopes you might catch the underlying forlorn tone in his words – that this is a "goodbye", not a "see you soon" – and not foolishly wait for him to come back. But he kinda knows it is unreasonable to expect you to move on and find a more loving, present person to warm your bed, put a smile on your face, a ring on your left hand, give his only child a decent attempt of a family, promise you the world and keep that promise. He leaves knowing that much.

And as you wake up in the middle of the night, with a cold bed, an empty apartment, a text and the briefest memory of Dabi lovingly kissing your midriff, you cry out for what could have been. Said text was supposed to be monotonous, robotic even, and it's so much like Dabi to go on a mission without wanting to say goodbye in person (because he's too cool for that) that normally you wouldn't even bat an eye, but you know you'll never see him again because of the words adorning the end of your screen.

I love you.

--------------------------------------------------

Yet again, Dabi's dreams haven't ever been easy on him. He jumps out of the bed, startled, as he fumbles with a bag of white pills which he spent the last year or so sneaking from your sight and angrily swallows four at once; the image of a little girl with her grandmother's hair and his azure eyes, no older than three, tightly clutching his hand and smiling. It's way too early in the morning for this shit and he can't be bothered to deal with that yet. Not sober.

Papa, look! I've drawn us today at school! I've made sure you look cool enough like you asked, okay? That's you in your coat, that's mama, that's Tama and that's me!

He's not sure he should burn the image to his mind or off his mind. He still hears your stupid giggles in the back of his head (probably it doesn't help that he has been watching almost daily for the last six months that particular video of you hollering, high as a kite, when he and the LOV raided the compounds of a drug cartel that was antagonising their plans, and let's say that Dabi has come home that day with more than a few weed satchels).

Feeling the top of his head getting heavier and his eyes blurring with difficulty to focus, he clings to the porcelain sink in his hotel room, mindlessly bangs his head on the cabinet just below the small mirror until his forehead is openly bleeding – not that he can feel anything when he's like that anyway, but he DID always try – and lets himself fall to his knees, silently glaring at the floor.

He somberly notes that his blood has painted the bathroom floor a vibrant red. He hopes yours isn't painted too.

Later that day when he has already puked almost all the drugs out his system, he and Kurogiri are sent on a minor errand; some human trafficking ring leader, a former ally, was threatening to spill out their secrets and they were to break and enter, kill him swiftly and move on with their lives, no biggie. But as he steps into the compound – a shell orphanage, he notes – Dabi knows it's not going to be a normal mission. Soon as the children know the leader's dead, most of them flee, making a run for their long lost freedom; but a small group, maybe six or seven of them, stays. And usually Dabi is proud of being the nonchalant, motionless member of the party, but with the late events even he can't help to be a little horrified when he notices that children as young as four have the same eyes he had when he fled his childhood home, Ende- his house.

Children that have seen so much grief and despair they can't be bothered to exit the building, even when he irritatedly screams at them to get out already as the walls roar up in flames. They have no reason for escaping; their will to go on died way before their bodies did. He can look into their eyes and tell already that they will turn out to be like him, or worse. This would be the perfect time for a rookie wide-eyed pro hero to appear and save these innocent children just so they can grow up so emotionally damaged that they will turn to villainy, to be eventually caught and brutally murdered by the very same hero.

Dabi knows the kids will stay rooted to the same spot until they're engulfed by the flames or choked up in poisonous smoke and that's gonna take so much longer; he's already in deep shit with Shigaraki because he said "no witnesses" and so many of them have already fled, so he does what he does best – ignores the vision he has of that little girl, his little girl, embraced by the blue fire of his body as he gives the children the most quick, painless death he can think of.

Dabi's thankful that they don't bother to make a sound. He doesn't think he could stay clean for much longer if he could hear the white haired girl's voice in the squeals and pitiful sobs of the children who stayed behind.

--------------------------------------------------

He returns to his empty hotel room that day, still hearing Shigaraki's screeches ringing in his ear, and the only thing he wants to do is to swallow the whole bag of pills he still has under his mattress and doze off until he chokes up on his own vomit and doesn't wake up the next morning, but he cannot die, not yet, and that night he remembers the children's empty glares as he brings out the half full bottle of whiskey sitting besides his bed and drinks till he's tumbling unconsciously down the wall.

The morning after he wakes up a little emptier inside and his sheets are actually wet with the sweat he expelled during his goriest nightmare yet, but the possibility that yet another child is going to end like the ones he has spared killed the day before drives him mad with frustration. And then, he takes the longest steps he's ever taken in your home's direction.

-------------------------------------------------

This time, is your turn to wake up in a sweat. You can clearly hear the noise of a window lock being picked (your former lover did this way too much in the beginning of your relationship, so much you suspected that he did it for fun, even when you gave him a spare key), and the sheer panic that runs through your whole being when your brain computes it's the nursery window lock being picked, you grab the pistol Dabi gave to you after a night out with your friends almost went sour in a robbery, and runs to your newborn daughter's room. You can feel the tears gathering around your eyes, desperate to hear her make any sound – anything to know she's alive – and when you kick the door open, the gun in your hands seems heavier than it does when shooting, as soon as you reckon the black hair and blue eyes you loved (honestly, love) so much, you seem to forget how to breathe.

The father of your child is holding onto her so tightly, a pained but relieved expression on his face as he clutches her so close to his warm chest, and you feel something wet running down both your cheeks as he presses his trembling lips to her forehead, almost like he expected to find the spare room in your apartment just the way he saw last, empty and full of broken spare parts of utensils and furniture. Your daughter is not bothered at all, like she recognizes him even if she never met him before and your heart is so confused.

Is he gonna leave again?

You longed for him throughout all your pregnancy, wanting him to know he was going to be a father, wanting him to see her first sonograms, feel her first kicks but you knew Dabi could only be there when his mission was over. And you waited, even if every cell in your brain screamed at you for it, confirming what you already suspected – he's abandoned you, both of you.

He thought that maybe you would be gullible enought to believe he was gone for a few months, not the slightest intention of leaving you behind, but in that moment, he knows that you know. And as you choose to let it go once again, he feels all the weight on his shoulders disappear as you both say, in unison:

"Welcome home."

[kaalamarii]

MC’s 80′s Party-Hold Me Now

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993053/chapters/57914824

Summary: You and Lucifer aren’t on speaking terms and it turns Luci into a soft emo boi.

Parirings: Lucifer/Reader MC

Word Count: 1758

Warnings: Luci’s in his feelings. My dumbass forgetting that Cerberus doesn’t live at the House of Lamentation.

You look to Lucifer, wanting to go to him. Things had been weird between the two of you lately, between a lot of fucking and a lot of fighting, you’re not sure where you stand with the eldest brother. He didn’t say so, but you knew it stung him a bit when he found out you’ve been feeling homesick. He’s understanding, of course. You were suddenly ripped from your life to come to Devildom, and it’s not like you had a say in it. Still, he can’t help but feel a bit hurt.

He would never say this to you, of course. But since the planning of the party started, he had been different toward you. He barely speaks, and when he does, it’s about your tasks or some other sort of lecture. You had had enough of it and called him out the other day, and being the Avatar of Pride, he denied feeling anything for you.

“You’re just a human,” he told you. “After you go back home, where you want to be, you won’t even matter to me.”

You felt tears in your eyes and ran out of the room. Lucifer didn’t bother going after you. He wasn’t the type to come running, begging for your forgiveness.

You hadn’t said a word to him for the past few days and you weren’t going to now.

Lucifer was standing near the entrance of the dining room, looking super handsome and not at all like himself in jeans and red plaid. You recognize him as John Bender from the Breakfast Club. You feel a jolt run through your body as you begrudgingly check out the demon. You sigh. He looks hot.

Next to him is Diavolo in full blown Freddie Mercury, the cutest fake mustache and his white tank top showing off muscles you didn’t realize Diavolo had. The perverted side of you drums up naughty visuals of being sandwiched between Diavolo Mercury and 80s bad boy Lucifer, but you shake them off, swearing that asshole Lucifer is never getting in your pants ever again.

Instead, you make your way to the dance floor, where Asmo and Simeon are talking and dancing with each other. Asmo is looking absolutely gorgeous as Boy George, make up and outfit on point. Simeon stood next to him, as Michael Jackson from the Thriller video. On the sidelines stood Luke as a very adorable and grumpy looking Bob Ross.

You look at Luke and his face softens. He waves to you and you wave back before getting distracted by Asmo bringing you into a hug. “You look beautiful, Material Girl!” Asmo says with a squeal.

“Please, look at you!”

He waves his hand at you and scoffs. “Just adding to the beauty that I already have. And would you look at Simeon here... Simeon, show MC what I taught you.”

Simeon does a small snippet of the Thriller dance and the moonwalks. “Heee heee!” he says and you giggle.

“Very cute.”

Simeon smiles. “Luke hates it. He says the 80’s was a disgusting time. He said Bob Ross is the only nice thing to come out of that decade.”

“Doesn’t match his personality,” you reply, “but he sure does look adorable.”

Asmo puts his hands on his hips. “Enough talking about the chihuahua. Let’s dance, MC.”

You smile and Asmo grabs your hand, twirling you and swaying his hips with you. You laugh as he dips you and twirls you again, passing you to Simeon.

“I’m surprised you didn’t go to Lucifer,” Simeon says. “You two have been pretty close lately, huh?”

“I guess so. He’s been a dick recently.”

Luke covered his ears, complaining to himself about your language and the fact that you actually spend time with demons. Simeon isn’t bothered in the slightest by your swear. “That’s just Lucifer...you know he gets like that.”

“True,” you say, agreeing with the angel, “He isn’t always the most affectionate. I know deep down he cares and that it isn’t personal.”

Simeon nods, listening to you. “But he still needs to learn to be gentler, right?”

“Exactly. He’s all upset because I miss home. But it’s not that I hate being here. It’s not bad for being...well, Hell.”

Simeon chuckles.

“And I love the brothers. But I mean, I didn’t have a choice to come here...I was totally thrown in here, unprepared.”

“I get it,” Simeon states as he twirls you, before bringing you into him, pressing his hips against yours and moving to the music. “It’s hard for you, even if you are enjoying yourself. I imagine it’s difficult for Lucifer as well. He probably never thought you’d be forming a bond with his brothers, and certainly not with him.”

You look over at Lucifer, who is watching you dancing with Simeon, a serious look on his face that you can’t read. As if hearing your thoughts, Simeon speaks up. “I think he wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah, right. You and I both know that Lucifer doesn’t talk about feelings.”

“Give him some credit, MC.”

You sigh, looking back at Lucifer, watching as he gets up and goes to the kitchen, coming back out with a bowl of food for Cerberus. He looks over at you and gives you a small apologetic smile before heading out of the dining room.

Lucifer walks to his room where Cerberus is staying and sets the bowls down for each of the heads. He sits on his bed, lounging back, as he waits for the three headed dog to finish eating. He pulls out his phone, opening up Devilgram. He doesn’t see the appeal of it, honestly, but is always curious to see what his brothers and you post. He stops at a selfie of you, Asmo, and Simeon from tonight. He looks at you, and taps on your name, going to your page. He scrolls through, stopping to admire all your photos. There’s selfies of you, funny pictures of you and his brothers. There’s a group of pictures of the two of you. One where your heads are touching and you’re both smiling, another one with him serious and you kissing his cheek. The caption is a simple red heart emoji.

He sighs, closing to Devilgram to look at his personal photos of the two of you. There’s photos there he wouldn’t dare to show anyone else; you looking sexy in lingerie, post sex selfies, you and him kissing and cuddling, even a few with him doing goofy faces with you. He adores you. And he adores these pictures, cherished memories of your short time together.

He misses you. He hates when you two fight. Unfortunately with you being stubborn and never following rules and him being the Avatar of Pride, fighting happens often with the two of you.

He has to apologize, he knows that. It’s always so hard for him, but he’s already had a lot of loss in life and he isn’t about to lose you.

He’d never tell you this, but his heart flutters in his chest when he hears you knock on his door. He knows it’s you because you knock so softly compared to his brothers and Diavolo, and Cerberus reacts with a wagging tail instead of a growl. He gets up, a little more quickly than he’d ever admit, and opens the door.

“MC.”

“Hey…” you say, awkwardly. “Can I come in? I think we need to talk.”

He hesitates, then nods, moving to the side so you can walk into his room. He sits on his bed again as he watches you go over to the dog, petting each of his heads. He’s patient, waiting for you to start.

You know he’s not going to break the ice. You sit on his bed next to him. “So…”

“Yes?”

“You left the party.”

He nods. “I had to feed Cerberus.”

“That’s right, I forgot he was here for the week. Is that the only reason you left?”

He thinks for a moment, and tells you (somewhat) honestly. “No. I’ve been around my brothers all day setting up the party. Alone time is nice.”

“Oh,” you say, a little hurt.

“I mean, a break from them. You’re more than welcome here. Anytime. You know that.”

You nod, accepting his answer.

“Are you enjoying your party?”

“I am.”

“Hopefully you feel a bit more at home,” he says, a bit sour.

You sigh. “Luc…”

He cringes, still getting used to your nicknames for him.

“I do miss home, but I still like it here, you know? I love spending time with all of you. You, especially.”

“Fine,” he replies.

You roll your eyes. “What do you mean by fine, Lucifer? I don’t understand you. I think we’re getting along and then you pull shit like that.”

“What are you going on about?” Lucifer asks, furrowing his brows at you. “I don’t know what you want from me, MC.”

You groan in frustration, throwing yourself down on the bed and staring at the ceiling. “I want you to stop being such an asshole and just tell me how you feel...I mean, I don’t understand what’s going on with us.”

“How I feel?”

“Yes, like...do you love me?”

“How am I supposed to answer that?”

“Truthfully.”

He sighs. “MC, I barely know you.”

“Barely know me? Luc, you’ve been inside me, for fuck’s sake. You’re saying that there’s nothing between us?”

“I’m saying there can’t be anything between us. My feelings for you cannot get in the way of the exchange program.”

You feel tears well up behind your eyes.

He hates this part… when your lip quivers and your eyes start to water. The look of pain on your face and the way your voice trembles as you try to keep yourself composed. He hates it so much.

“Then what has the past month been? Just fucking?”

“I don’t know…” Another hard sentence for him to say.

You scoff. “You are utterly ridiculous.”

“I just know that I like you around,” he says. He laces his fingers with yours. “I like our alone time, even if we’re just cuddled up or doing our own thing. I know that I wish you never had to leave.”

You look up at him, surprised he’s opening up.

“I hate fighting with you, MC.”

“I hate fighting, too.”

He leans over, kissing you. “Then, let’s not.”

You smile. “What would you think of a quickie before we go back?”

He smirks, his devilish side coming back out. “Sounds delightful.”

[takes-a-lawyer-to-know-a-liar]

@mythicalheartbeat​ I got a Little carried away lmao (sorry for taking so long)

@kaykayblogs

“Because I’m still in love with you!” Dukexiety

Confessions at 3AM

AO3 link

Words: 2783

Pairing: Dukexiety

Warnings: mentions of sex and gore, but nothing explicit, just Remus being Remus

Remus turned over on the bed for the fifteenth time in then minutes. No matter how much he tried to rest, he couldn’t relax if his life depended on it. He’d tried everything: he’d tried to rest with or without clothes, he’d changed pajamas five times, he’d conjured eight different sheets for his bed, he’d tried sleeping on the floor, on a chair, upside down. Nothing worked. He sighed, frustrated. He knew physical comfort wasn’t the issue here. The problem was in his head. However, it wasn’t the usual intrusive thoughts that were keeping him awake tonight (those he had learned to accept a long time ago), but another completely different issue that he had thought he’d gotten over a long time ago.

With a growl, he finally gave up on trying to fall asleep and got up from the bed to stretch his tense body. He felt exhausted, but he knew he wouldn’t rest properly tonight. Oh well, it wasn’t like this was the first night he’d spend awake.

However, this time his restlessness was because of Virgil.

Moving over to sit on the dirty floor of his room, he wondered where it had all gone wrong.  Was it when he and Virgil started whatever it was that they had, back when he still wore just black? Was it when Virgil left the dark sides? Was it when he introduced himself to Thomas and he inevitably came back to his old friend’s life? He didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter now.

Closing his eyes, his mind drifted off to that time where Virgil was still with Deceit and him. Back then, he thought everything was doing great! Their asshole emo was their leader, and the three of them did their jobs just fine. They were a little strange family having fun and keeping close to each other. When the tension between Remus and Virgil snapped, nothing really changed between the two of them except that they also occasionally fucked. Or so he thought.

As the time passed, Anxiety and the Duke started getting closer, slowly but surely. More tender touches, more soft looks, more relaxed little smiles that they shared privately. Remus hadn’t wanted to admit it then, but he was really starting to grow strong feelings for the emo. He kept those feelings in the back of his mind, letting them be overshadowed by his usual intrusive thoughts, subconsciously hoping they would disappear so that they could keep that friends and fuckbuddies thing they had intact.

Then Virgil met Thomas, and he started hanging out more with the others, Remus and him started to fight more and more (though not as much as Deceit and him, where it got to the point where they refused to be in the same room as the other) and then, one day, Virgil packed his things and left.

Without their leader, Deceit had to take charge, and they learned how to live without their friend.

Remus immediately craved his presence. He felt something missing in his heart that he knew could only be filled if Virgil came back. He knew Deceit felt the same, although he never admitted it out loud (that snake was horrible at expressing his emotions and kept trying to hide them, but it was expected really, considering he was literally Deceit).

It didn’t take much longer for Remus to realize his true feelings for his friend. “Heh,” Remus chuckled to himself “you really don’t truly appreciate what you have until you lose it, huh?”

It wasn’t funny.

The next time Remus saw Virgil after he left was a coincidence. It was the middle of the night, probably around 3AM, like it was now, and Remus was heading to the kitchen in the dark sides’ part of the Mindscape to get something to eat since he couldn’t sleep.

However, before he could reach his destination, he heard a noise behind him and when he turned around he saw him, stepping out of his old room, a bag hung on his shoulder and looking equally as startled to see him as Remus felt. He felt his throat dry and licked his lips before speaking.

“What are you doing here?” Virgil huffed, trying to look annoyed, but Remus knew he was just anxious.

“That’s none of your business, I was just leaving.” Keeping his eyes glued to the ground, he tried to walk past Remus towards the exit door, but his path was blocked “Move.” He frowned, still looking at his feet.

“Not until you tell me why you left.” He didn’t know why he’d said that. Virgil finally looked up to him, something that Remus couldn’t decipher flashing through his face, and he hoped the other hadn’t noticed the shakiness in his voice.

“I said move.” Virgil stepped forward, shoving past his old friend. He continued walking but a hand around his wrist stopped him.

Remus didn’t know what had made him do that, but he suddenly couldn’t think and found himself at a loss of words. He stuttered, surprised that Virgil hadn’t moved away yet, and wished he could see his face in that moment. He felt his stomach and chest heavy, like he had swallowed a bunch of rocks again. Say something, say something, say something, say something.

“I love you.” Well, he thought, couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to say it.

He felt Virgil tense even more, but neither of them moved or said anything else. Several moments passed, and Remus desperately wanted to see the expression the anxious side was making, but he didn’t try anything. It was like the both of them had stopped breathing.

Then, the spell broke, and Virgil snatched his arm away from Remus’ grip. Without looking back, he walked through the door and disappeared in the dark.

Remus remained frozen for a few moments before sighing and going back to his room. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

They didn’t see each other again until years later, when he first introduced himself to Thomas.

It was fine, he’d told himself, he had already gotten over his thing for Virgil a while ago, he didn’t have feelings for him anymore, he had moved on. Now that he had met Thomas properly he expected to see the emo more often and, with those romantic feelings toward him out of the way, maybe they could actually be friends again! So he started showing up more.

At first, everyone tensed up and tried to get him to leave when he popped up uninvited, but over time they started to just let him stay. And, once the dark sides’ and the light sides’ parts of the Mindscape became one (he could thank Deceit for that), they even started to relax around him sometimes! But that also meant that Virgil was starting to relax around him.

He got to see more of those smirks, those more rare little smiles, the way he snorted sometimes at something he said, when he rolled his eyes in fond exasperation, those few times when he actually got him to laugh (those moments exceptionally precious to him). He was starting to remember why he had been in love with the anxious side.

Remus got up from the floor and walked towards the door. Maybe a glass of water would help? Once out of his room, though, he didn’t get very far before he heard a noise coming from the kitchen and saw Virgil coming out of it. Well, shit, just what he needed right now. Looking at him again, he noticed that he was wearing his skeleton onesie (in which he always looked adorable) and that he remarkably relaxed at the sight of him. Since Remus had been more or less accepted by the others, he had noticed that Virgil always tended to be more at ease around him when they were alone. He still hadn’t figured out why, though he decided to not give it much attention.

“What are you doing here?” Hearing this, he couldn’t help but have a strong déjà vu feeling, and he didn’t like that one bit. However, he still grinned and adopted his usual posture with the little energy he still had.

“Just getting a glass of water, emo, what are YOU doing here? Are you doing something you shouldn’t do?”

“Just getting water as well.” Virgil mumbled as he got closer, eyeing him suspiciously, so close that Remus could touch him if he reached out to him. “What’s wrong with you?” What?

“What are you talking about, emo?” He laughed nervously, hoping that it didn’t sound that way, but by the way Virgil’s eyes narrowed, it did. However, he still tried to sound as cheerful as always. “You know what’s wrong with me: I’m the personification of intrusive thoughts!”

“No, you’re acting weird.” Remus opened his mouth to talk, but the anxious side interrupted him. “Weirder than normal.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He started to visibly tense, already hating where this was going.

“Oh, really? Because your behavior has been different lately and I can tell. I know you, Remus! Sometimes you go suddenly quiet for no reason, looking at me with a strange expression, you randomly tense up around me, you seem much paler and more exhausted than ever, you participate with your “contributions” less than before, I could keep going if you wanted!” His voice had started to raise a little, although he probably hadn’t realized.

Well, damnit! Remus hadn’t thought he was being that obvious! He instinctively took a single step backwards, his heart pounding inside his chest. He wished he could rip it off right at this moment and get rid of it: maybe then these feelings he was having would disappear. Meanwhile, seeing he wasn’t going to answer, Virgil decided to keep asking.

“I know something’s up, Remus. Tell me! Let me help you!”

“No.”

“What?”

“No! You can’t help me!”

“What? Why? What’s going on? Why are you acting so strange?”

“It’s because of you!”

“Because of me?” He suddenly looked much more insecure about this. “Did I do something wrong? Is it because of how I treated you in the past? If you want me to apologize again I will!”

“No, you don’t have to do that!”

“If I’m hurting you I want to know! Tell me what I’m doing wrong, please!”

“You’re not doing anything wrong! You’re doing everything right, and I’m the one who’s messed up!”

“What are you talking about!? Is it really something I did!?”

“No!”

“You said it was because of me! If I didn’t do anything, why are you acting so weird!?”

“BECAUSE I’M STILL IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

They froze, and everything around them went quiet. They stared at each other with equally wide eyes, not moving a muscle.

Remus… Remus hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to blurt out those words, damnit! What was going to happen now? Was Virgil going to hate him? Was he going to feel disgusted? Was he going to laugh at him for still having feelings for him after all this time? Every possible worst case scenario played in Remus’ head in an instant. He had no idea what was going to happen, but he certainly just wanted something to happen! Was Virgil going to stare at him for the rest of the eternity? It was killing him.

The silence stretched out for a few more moments, the atmosphere so dense that Remus was convinced it could have been cut with a knife, when Virgil spoke again.

“…What?” His voice came out as a whisper, full of disbelief and uncertainty. He still kept unmoving, not even playing with the hem of his sleeves like he usually did or even blinking.

Shit, shit, shit. Now every bit of trust they’d manage to build again would be ruined. There was no way things would stay the same after this. Shit. He felt his breath shortening, barely registering it or anything else except Virgil in front of him.

Fidgeting from where he was standing, Remus turned his back to him and almost took a step forward. His insides were screaming at him to run away and to lock himself up in his room, but he fought those urges and took a deep breath. He had always been proud of his honesty and his gay-forward nature so, now that he had already said that to Virgil, running away would go against what he was. He might as well tell the whole, unfiltered truth now, right?

He quickly turned on his heels and faced Virgil again, who looked more startled than a few moments ago. He opened his mouth to speak, but Remus beat him to it.

“Yes, I’m still in love with you! I thought I had gotten over you a long time ago but obviously I was wrong!” He laughed before continuing talking. “But how could I not have been wrong? You’re just so hot and pretty and fun to be around with! Every time I look at you I feel like I want to rip out my stomach and eat it and my heart will rise up to my throat and I feel like I’m super horny except that sometimes I’m not actually horny!”

“Remus” He didn’t listen and continued blurting out words.

“Which is super weird but made me think that maybe I’m not only attracted to you physically? But then I remembered how you made me feel when we still were fuckbuddies and it’s actually super close but this time the not-only-physical-attraction part is even more intense!”

“Remus” He could barely hear Virgil.

“And now I know I’m even more hopelessly in love with you than I was before you left and that makes me go crazy because I know you’ll never feel the same but I just love your smile and your laugh and your sarcastic comments and also your rudeness and your anxiety because I love every part of you even if you’re not perfect (or because you’re not perfect) and I’m always thinking about how much I want to kiss you and touch you and fuck you and go on dates and cuddle with you!”

“Remus!”

“But it doesn’t really matter because I know you don’t want that! Because I’m gross and crazy and dirty and I wouldn’t change any of that for anything but I know you don’t like those things anymore and I can’t sleep at night because I can’t stop thinking and fantasizing and dreaming about you and-”

“REMUS!”

Remus finally stopped talking and looked at Virgil again, noticing for the first time that his face was a deep shade of red. Breathing heavily because of the long rant, he watched Virgil slowly take a few steps forward until they were almost touching.

Virgil didn’t say anything at first and neither did Remus, eyes glued to each other’s stares. The anxious side wore an intense look that seemed like he was searching for something. What was it, Remus had no idea.

Then, very slowly, Virgil raised his hands to cup Remus’ cheeks. The creative side stopped breathing for a moment, not really understanding what was happening yet.

“Remus” Virgil said with the softest voice he’d ever heard, glancing at his lips. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

That broke Remus out of his stupor and, without any hesitation, he leaned in and pressed their lips together. Virgil left out a hum, eyes closed, and reciprocated with enthusiasm, quickly deepening the kiss and brushing his tongue against his. Remus put his arms around Virgil’s waist, pulling him closer, while one of his hands left his cheek to bury it in his hair. Remus smiled against the kiss and huffed out a laugh. It was clear not only he had wanted this for a while.

After making out a bit more they parted slightly to catch their breaths, just enough so that they could press their foreheads together and, when Remus looked at Virgil’s eyes, he saw bare love and fondness. The same love and fondness he was feeling in that moment. He laughed, happiness filling his chest like a balloon, and kissed his love’s temple, who also laughed in response.

“God, I love you so much!” Virgil brushed his cheek with his thumb, not hiding the amusement in his smile.

“I know, Remus.” He paused. “I love you too.”

Remus squeezed him tightly and smiled so widely he thought his face was going to split in two. Then, they let go and walked together to Virgil’s room. He had a feeling that, cuddled up to him, he wouldn’t have any more trouble to sleep from now on.

[grimmjowkurosakidrake]

fic propmt for ss- Sasuke going through emo phase, Sakura bubble gum pop who are neighbors and are annoyed by each other’s taste in music

Look at me answering fics prompts months after, I’m the worst I know! XD

This fic is a songfic inspired by A*Teens’ A perfect match! I know the ask was about Sasuke’s emo phase and you were expecting a little bit more Fall out boy than Dir en Grey but deal with me, my emo phase was my visual kei phase so I don’t know much about western emo music. Also, both Sasuke and Sakura are Japanese xD!

Well, without further ado, the fic:}

Perfect Match

Your family says that it’s just a phase, the fact that you like to wear dark colors on your clothes and you listen to angry music because that is what boys your age do and there’s nothing to worry about.

They don’t like to talk about the anger and the sadness you feel. You’re twenty and already in collage. You don’t think this is a phase anymore, now you’re just angry.

They don’t like to talk about how you’re a lot more sensitive than your brother and how you’re not all that much interested in becoming a lawyer just like him.

You are the second son of a rich family that never had to struggle for anything, you have absolutely nothing to be sad or angry about, or at least, that’s what they think.

But even with all the money they have you still had to sell your TV and your music system just to buy tickets for a “The Gazette” concert back in 2009 and even thought they can totally afford for suits you don’t want and private tutors you don’t need, you still had to sell your car and work for four months just to travel to Seoul and get tickets for the “Metallica” and “Baby metal” concert hosted there this year.

It was a great experience, it made you happy beyond belief, but that happiness you experienced, those feelings that for once weren’t depressing and anxiety-infusing, weren’t enough for your family.

Maybe that’s why you’re angry.

You’re angry when you arrive at your street on the buss, alone, because no one would come and see you at the airport and you’re definitely angry when your find Sakura, your childhood neighbor, dancing to fucking Reol’s “Give me a break” on her brand new music system that her mom bought her last month just so she could go and spend the money she makes on the Maid Caffe she works part-time on her mindless clothes and accessories.

She looks cute, you have to admit, with her too short, hot pink shorts and her Harajuku style black crop top with a Kabuki mask printed on it. She’s wearing the pink pearl collar you saw her buy a few days after your trip and you just know that the eyes of those stupid cat earrings she’s wearing are actually real diamonds.

It angers you how she can spend her money on making herself look how she wants to look so easily when you can’t even buy a pair of ripped, black jeans with all the money your father makes.

So, you lash at her “Could you shut up with that shit, please?” You ask her from across your own lawn, “I don’t want to listen to your garbage today.” She glares at you, her green eyes accentuated by her cat eye makeup, and then she turns up the music.

She’s a fierce girl Haruno Sakura.

-----------------------------------

You find yourself obliged to talk to her again when your parents invite hers to a late dinner on your house.

They force you to take her to your room and warn you with a tight lipped “behave yourself or else…” that makes you wonder what else could they take away from you now that you don’t even have a car.

She makes herself comfortable on your bed as you turn on your computer and My Chemical Romance’s Teenagers starts rolling through the music list. She makes an annoyed face at your choice in music but doesn’t say anything.

It’s your room, your rules, after all. And she’s smart enough to acknowledge this universal rule.

She’s wearing nicer clothes today. An all-black assemble consisting of a lite crop top only covering her small breasts paired with a big black bomber jacket and loose black, dress pants with a cute bow on top. Even when you couldn’t care less about clothes and fashion you think she looks insanely good tonight and you can’t take your eyes off her.

“You like my outfit?” She asks with a smirk when she notices your intense gaze on her.

“Yeah…” You answer, sitting by her legs on your bed.

“It’s by Yohji Yamamoto’s summer collection!” Beams Sakura, “You would think that with this level of minimalism it would be from a European designer you know?”

Whatever she says it sounds like a question, and even when you don’t know of what she’s talking about you mumble a small “Sure” as you come closer to her.

She smiles, “but no, it’s one of our own!” Giggles Sakura with clear excitement in her voice “We really do have to start appreciating our own artists more.”

“That sure is interesting,” You answer, so near her face that you can feel her warm breath against yours.

You really want to kiss her.

She’s beautiful, awful taste on music and all, she’s always happy and cute, more than anything. Happy like you never are, always optimistic and irreverent like her music and her clothes so kissing her red-looking lips that never stop smiling it’s all you can think about.

She kisses you first, the sweet taste of her lips on your own and the feeling of her petite arms around your neck making you feel like never before.

“I didn’t know you were interested in art,” she comments as she ends the kiss.

“I’m not,” you smirk, “But South Park says you can get a girl by faking interest in her and they’re not wrong.”

Sakura doesn’t hit you or screams, she just pushes you away, takes off her jacket and takes a copy of The Mist from your bookshelf to read in silence. You are able to see the expanse of her pristine, beautiful back and the beautiful Sakura tree branch tattoo that adorns her right arm and collarbone the whole night until she eventually leaves with her parents.

But you’re not allowed to touch and that is punishment enough.

-----------------------------------

You invite her to see a horror movie a few days later and she accepts, Sakura seems to hate the movie the whole time but the way she blushes when you put your arm around her shoulders makes you think she may be enjoying herself anyway.

You don’t understand until she invites you to an art gallery for a friend of hers whose work is being accepted that you finally understand the appeal of doing things you hate just for the person you like.

Her friends are boring and snobbish, but she’s wearing a form fitting red dress with her back bare and she allows you to rest your hand there the whole night.

You’re allowed to kiss her anywhere and everyone just knows that she’s yours and you’re hers by principle of her the closeness you share.

When you discover that you both want to go to a 2000s bands tribute after the party and she shows you the blue leather skirt she’s going to change into, you discover that maybe you’re not all that different.

-----------------------------------

Her clothes are always styled to look the way she likes them. Be it cute or sexy or that delicious combination of both that you like so much on her. With her short, pink skirts and her long, boyfriend t-shirts.

Her family is a very progressive one and they don’t mind how much skin she shows off or the art she has on her skin.

Everything is pristine on her, even her few tattoos, because she planed and wanted those changes on her.

But the holes on your pants are messy and not at all how you want them to look. You had to cut them yourself after all and you’re shit with anything that has to do with clothes, you don’t know about fabric and you always end up cutting where you should not.

This all ends when you start dating Sakura.

This time you’re in her room, listening to freaking Grease’s You’re the one that I want (and not saying anything because her room her rules, after all), as she carefully cuts holes on your jeans.

She looks happy to do so, because she loves clothes and spicing them up, she even buys a few skull patches to sew on the pockets and those small details make you happy just like the concerts and music make you happy.

You kiss her deeply when you go to your own house by night and she winks at you from across her window as Marina and the Diamonds’ Bubblegum bitch blasts through her music system.

As your parents who always thought of her as the nice girl from across your lawn frown at the lyrics of the singer crying “I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch!”, you can’t help but think that she’s a perfect match for you.

[who-comes-up-with-this-stuff]

Hi!! This is cute little drabble for @figurative-siren-song ‘s RarePair Thing!! I hope you all enjoy it!! 🤗💝

Rare Pairing: Remy x Roman

Characters (order of appearance): Roman, Logan, Patton, Virgil, Remy

Warnings: Uh, food, and time anxiety.

————

Roman twirled through the doorway, amping up the extra to his usual greeting back from classes.

“Hello, gorgeous family!” He cheered, rushing over to give his Papa a hug around the back.

“Roman, you seem very lively this evening,” Logan said, pausing his cooking to glance back at his son. “What’s the occasion?” Roman slipped to his Dad next, waiting to peck him on the cheek before answering.

“A grand one!” He slid next to his little brother, and ruffle his hair, causing the emo teen to sway his hand away.

“Ro, what the hell?” He sat up straight as Roman puffed his chest out.

“I,” he began. “Have a date tonight!!”

“What?” Patton shouted, dropping his hot chocolate mug onto the living room table. “Roman, that’s fantastic!! Oh my gosh, tell us everything!” He yanked his son onto the couch and sat next him, staring intently. “Logan!! Come on!”

“You all do realize that I’m in the midst of cooking, right??” Virgil chuckled and went to assist his father, allowing Roman to belt out his achievements with more reason.

“Ok, so we were leaving class together, and right when we were about to say goodbye, he grabs me, by the hand, and asks to go for dinner!” Patton lunges forward, encasing his eldest in a hug.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you, kiddo!” Meanwhile, Virgil and Logan were having their own conversation back in the kitchen. As Virgil arranged a couple dishes on the counter for the finished products, Logan continued his cooking.

“Honestly,” Virgil said. “Roman has been crushing on this guy for months. He had that whole, ‘love at first sight’ complex.”

“Why am I not surprised. He’s only brought this boy up a hundred dozen times a week.”

“Try per day,” Virgil scoffed.

“And yet, I’ve never seen this kid in my life.” Virgil shook his head.

“I know. But Remy is the kind of guy to just vanish. He’d be at the dinner table one moment and on a plane to Uganda the next.” Logan narrowed his eyebrows, unsure of how to process that. “But,” Virge continued. “I think this Remy guy is gonna be good for him.”

“You’ve met him?”

“Yeah, a few times. Sometimes he’s with Roman when he picks me up on Wednesday’s.” Logan nodded.

“And guess what!” Romans boisterous voice chimes in. “The two in the kitchen turned their attentions over to see Roman positively beaming, bouncing on his feet. “He got me a gift!” He reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out a golden chain, the signature Hamilton star on the bottom.

“Oh, Roman, that’s beautiful!” Patton praised. He looked up at his son from the necklace. “So, when is the date?”

“At 7:00!”

“So what you’re saying is,” Logan pitches on from the kitchen. “You’re going to skip the meal that I’m working hard to make to go to a fancy diner with some near stranger — someone of which your dad and I have yet to even meet. Am I correct?”

“Ugh, Pops, come on, you know that I—“ Roman began, hoping to defend himself and make his father feel better.

“I know, Roman, I know, I’m just teasing.” Roman visibly relaxed just as Logan turned to smiled at his younger child. “That just means that your brother will have to have twice as much.”

“Ooh, you see, I would love to,” Virge started, awkwardly playing with his hands. “But...” He splayed his hands out as if to answer in silence. Logan merely chuckled, loving to be able to tease his children. He then turned to his eldest, wearing a straight face.

“Hang on a moment — Roman?” He said, slapping a spatula around. Roman hummed and looked up from admiring his necklace. “What on Earth are you doing? Your date is at seven, it’s six o’clock, come on, get your shit together, you’re going to be late!” Roman instantly jumped into action, bounding up the stairs, calling a “thank you” to his father.

By the time their meal had been set out and the three began to dig in, Roman finally emerged from the stairs. He came out wearing a red, floral print suit jacket and dark jeans, a white shirt beneath and a scarf around his neck.

“Oh, you look great, Roman!” Patton cheered, smiling even as his son rushed around to gather his things. Logan paused his eating to assist.

“Wallet?” Roman looked up before he confirmed that he was carrying his wallet. “Phone?” Another confirmation. “A gift if you have one? Earbuds? Stressball?” Roman has nodded along to all of them, freezing momentarily at the last one.

“Uh, well, I wasn’t going to bring that.” The two fathers peaked interest, while the younger son merely adapted to absorb the next information.

“How come?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t want him to think I’m nervous, let alone stressed to the point of needing fidget toys..”

“Well,” Patton spoke up. “I think it’s a good idea to bring it, just in case. But, I suppose the final decision comes down to you.” Roman gave a light smile and his dad returned it.

“Alright, then come sit with us until your boyfriend arrives.” Roman was quick to grow a light blush.

“Papa, he’s not my boyfriend—“

“Yet.” Virgil pitched in with a smirk. Roman couldn’t glare knowing that it was probably true. However, he took a seat next to his brother anyway and waited, staring at the door and bouncing his leg.

“Here,” Logan pushed a dish of potatoes toward Roman slightly. “Have a bite before you go.”

“And spoil my appetite, are you mad?” He shrieked, pausing all nervous movements to gawk at his father.

“Or what, eat like a pig?” Virgil chipped in, talking with his mouth full. Roman startled again.

“I do not eat like a pig!” The four continued to chat until 7 o’clock rang, and by that point Roman was pacing and constantly checking his appearance in his phone camera. It was by 7:08 that he began to settle, but also begin to sulk.

“He isn’t blowing you off is he?” Virgil accused, pointing his fork despite being finished his meal. “Because if he does, I will rip him a new one, I swear.” Roman fell back into his chair and sighed.

“He’s never been that kind of person.” He muttered. “He’s always so generous and selfless.”

“He is?—“

“It just doesn’t make sense that he would ditch me..”

“Oh, baby,” Patton comforter, rubbing his sons back. “Perhaps he got caught up in traffic, or went the wrong way. I’m sure he’ll be here, darling.” They sat a bit longer, Roman taking a leftover piece of broccoli and tossing it in his mouth with ease.

“Ew. Dude.” Virgil grumbled, scrunching his eyebrows. Roman merely muttered back. A few seconds after he finished chewing, there was series of honks just outside. Roman flew from his chair and dove for the peephole. There was a red car and the one and only Remy Diablo standing in the window roof, using his foot (presumably) to honk the horn.

“It’s him! He’s here!” Roman immediately patted himself down and fluffed up his hair before tearing out of the house to go meet his date.

“So sorry I’m late, babes, just had to make a pitstop.” Remy said, then ducked back into the vehicle. Roman climbed into the passenger seat and looked at Rem.

“A pitstop? Where?” Remy raised his eyebrows up.

“Um. To buy you this? Obviously?” Remy reached one hand over, staring at the road as he drove. In his hand was a small bouquet of flowers, roses and lavenders and others mushed into a single present.

“Oh, they’re gorgeous!” Roman carefully snagged the flowers out of Remys hand and inspected them, giving them all satisfying sniffs. “These are perfect, Remy, honestly!”

“Also,” Remy began, not taking the time to indulge Romans praise. “I figured we go to the Ritz, you know? Romantic place, good service, drinks?” Roman laughed, fondly.

“Sounds great. Thank you, dearest.”

[bellakitse]

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

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

stuck at the airport fic 13.6K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re an asshole.”

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

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

Alex Manes.

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

He ends the call without saying goodbye to Isobel.

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

Alex Manes, the guy responsible for his bisexual awakening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michael licks his lips nervously. “Ten years.”

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

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

Alex huffs out a laugh. "Roswell."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

Michael stares at Alex, locking eyes with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will,” he assures her.

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

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

Alex’s lip twitches.

“Hot?” Isobel asks, pleased.

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The answer to the question is obvious.

“Yes.”

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 *

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

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

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

“Probably,” he answers honestly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michael exhales. “Yeah, that.”

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

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

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

 *

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

“Are you okay?” he asks gently.

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

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

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

“Isobel, what about you?”

Alex’s mouth curves. “Rosa.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Isobel, though, seems to have a different plan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Give me a second to say goodbye."

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

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

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

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

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

Alex smirks, obviously pleased.

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

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

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

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you think.”

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” he whispers.

Alex might not be scared, but Michael is terrified.

“How?” Alex asks with wonderment.

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

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

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

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

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

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michael nods. “I know.”

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

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

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

Michael can’t help but smile at that.

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

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

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

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michael stands up.

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

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

“Okay, Michael.”

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

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

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 One year later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit! You and DeLuca, Iz?”

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

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

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

“I hate you.”

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

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

“Will do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not even a hint?”

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

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

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

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

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

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Always Chasing After You

Rating: T

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 5655

Summary: Baz is out for a walk, when the most ridiculous and beautiful boy in the universe runs into him. And the Chosen One has gotten himself into trouble. Again. Based on "there’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close" and "I’m dying and I’m confessing my love for you" requests

Read on AO3

AN: Again, I can't express my apologies enough for taking so long with these requests. Stupid work and health, ugh. Idk if you guys are annoyed, but I'm def annoyed with myself. I hate being too tired to do things. But I got this done so yay! Hope you guys like it :)

———————————————

Baz

Why the fuck am I out here? It’s the day before Christmas Eve and bloody freezing, yet I’m wandering the streets like some moping emo. That’s probably what I am honestly. A depressed, lonely, lovesick emo, trying to freeze away my stupid feelings.

I shove my hands in my jacket pockets, warming up slightly. And my stupid lovesick brain imagines that warm, callused fingers are there heating my skin. I rip my hand out, keeping it in the cold, making the thoughts disappear by sheer stubbornness. No, stop it, subconscious. It’s not possible. Just because Snow and Wellbelove broke up last week doesn’t mean there’s a chance for me. There will never be a chance.

My head drops. I stare at the snow dusted ground, trying not to think of him. As if that’s even possible.

“Fuck fuck fuck!”

That’s the last thing I hear before a bloody fucking battering ram hits me. I yelp as I fall over onto the pavement, barely stopping my head from smashing open with my arm. Something or someone is pressing my back down. I whip my head back, ready to scream my head off, but then I’m met with panicked plain blue eyes.

“Snow?” I say.

“Baz?!” he replies, panting for breath. “What are you doing here?!”

“I could ask you the same thing.” I look to my left, and my eyes widen. “Why is your bloody sword out?”

“Uh, well, actually.” A rumble thrums through the pavement, like distant thunder. It gets closer and closer. Simon scrambles off me (unfortunately) and holds his sword tighter.

“You’re gonna want to run,” he says. “Like, now.”

I lift my head up just in time to see scaly feet pounding on the ground. “What the fuck?”

“Now!” Snow grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet. I scramble to follow him, the thundering sound chasing after us.

We bob and weave and duck through the streets. There’s only a couple of people, and they run away pretty quickly when they see whatever is behind us. I try to take note of Snow’s appearance. He’s in jeans and a hoodie, both tattered and bloodied. He’s not even wearing winter boots, just ratty old trainers. Bloody hell, he’s going to catch his death of cold. If we’re not killed by whatever’s chasing us first.

I catch up to Snow (thank magic for football). “What the ever loving fuck is going on, Snow?”

Snow dashes around the corner, and starts speaking between panting breaths. “Uh, long story short, accidentally wandered into a goblin nest while looking for a late night snack at a twenty four hour store.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Yeah.”

I follow Snow down a side street, and the thumping follows. “You are an utter fucking disaster, Snow!”

“Um, duh!” He grabs and swings around a pole to make a tight turn. I just use my feet like a normal person. “Why are you out here late at night? Isn’t your house in Hampshire?”

“I was at my aunts and I needed to clear my head.” Because I can only think about you, Snow. And it’s driving me to the brink of insanity.

Simon barks out a laugh. It’s wonderful noise. “What are the odds, huh? Just running into you.”

I let out my own tiny chuckle. “Yeah, true enough.”

We run down the streets at breakneck pace. Luckily, London provide lots of tight corners and winding paths. Snow looks over his shoulder a couple times, making his eyes widen in fear. That worries me. Snow has fought a chimera and a dragon. It takes a lot to get to him rattled, and he definitely looks a bit shaken up right now.

Snow dashes down a road, and I follow. But I quickly slam into his back with a formidable thwack, falling on my arse. “Ow!” I shout. “What the fuck, Snow!?”

“They looped around,” he pants out. “They fucking looped around.”

I scramble to my feet. I’m faced with oncoming horde of goblins, all pop star pretty with sharp teeth and claws. “Fuck.” I look over my shoulder. Another group is fast approaching. “Going back isn’t an option.”

Snow looks back too and frowns. “Fuck, you’re right.” Their thundering steps get louder and louder. “You got your wand?”

I pull it out of my inside pocket. “Always.

“Good.” He spins on his heels, sword raised high. “I think we’re going to have to fight our way out.”

“It’s the chimera all over again,” I grumble.

“Don’t get pissy about the chimera, that one was your own fault.” He moves into his fighting pose, every inch the mighty hero. Stupid Snow. Why must he always be so impressive?

I stick my wand out, fire already building at the tip. “Well, this one is your fault, so now we’re even.”

He growls deeply. The sound hits me harder than it should. “Just shut up and fight, Baz.”

“Gladly.”

The goblins close in. And all hell breaks loose.

It’s an absolute tornado of claws and blood and fire. Snow hacks and slashes like a madman. He’s a bloody force of nature with that sword. Nothing can get past him, no one can touch him. I unleash volleys of flames. The goblins roar and reel away, clutching their burnt arms. They jump at me with their supernatural speed, but luckily I’m a creature of darkness too. I block their attacks and kick them off with ease.

As I whip my wand around, sending a fiery lash into the final goblins’ face, I hear Snow shout loudly behind me. My dead heart kicks into overdrive. I spin around instantly. I couldn’t stand it if he got hurt, or worse. No no, that can’t happen.

Snow is being pushed back, feet digging into the ground, sword locked with a goblin’s claw. His drooling maw is far too close to Simon’s face for my comfort. His long teeth graze his face, drawing a drop of blood. My vision goes red. I charge forward and bash my shoulder into the beast’s broad chest, making him fly backwards into some of his fellow brethren. They fall like furious bowling pins, motionless on the ground.

After all the chaos, there’s a moment of silence. The calm after the storm, I suppose. Snow and I stare at each other, both our chests rising high in desperate gasps for air. There’s goblin blood all over his body, but he’s alive. That’s all that matters.

Snow’s gaze is wide, but I can’t tell what emotion lays behind it. Shock, fear, amazement, I have no clue.

“Baz...I...” he starts, words stalling out like a bad car motor. I open my mouth to reply, just as the worst pain I’ve ever felt scorches down my back.

I scream in agony, probably loud enough to wake some Normals. I stumble forward until a pair of strong arms wrap around me. Snow drags me over the waking goblins before they stand up. The pain is throbbing, burning, aching. I’ve heard rumours that goblin claws cause particularly terrible wounds. Unfortunately, they’re true. I push through it to get to my feet, running next to Snow away from these damn creatures.

We run like before through the serpentine pathways. The goblins are slower because of their injuries. They’re more than a few paces behind us. And it can definitely work to our advantage.

Snow and I turn a sharp corner. My eyes catch a narrow, almost invisible crack in a wall. I grip Simon’s arm tight and haul him towards it with all my remaining strength.

“Hey-” I cover his mouth before he can attract more attention with his shouting. He looks at my hand in surprise, but doesn’t push me off. I listen as the hoard approaches like an oncoming storm, then rush right past us. I wait until their heavy steps are completely gone before I (reluctantly) lower my hand from Snow’s mouth.

“They’re gone,” I sigh.

“Thank God,” Snow says.

We both take deep, calming breaths, though our chests are restricted in the tight space. I subtly flick my eyes downward. Blood hell. There’s barely an inch between Snow and I. Just a sliver of air separating my cold corpse from his warm being. He’s still disgusting, covered in goblin blood and dirt, but he’s still the most gorgeous thing in the cosmos. I force my eyes upwards, only to be met with Snow’s own.

Strangely, they’re not scared, or even shocked. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. All I can focus on is that he’s staring at me, that his pink lips are parted slightly, that I can feel his breath on my skin. He’s so close. One step, and we would be pressed together from head to toe. I could kiss him. Right here, right now. He doesn’t want me though, he never has. Yet...he’s looking at me like that. With wide, curious, pretty eyes. Could it be possible? Could he really?

“Simon,” I whisper. And in that moment of weakness, I reach forward, just about to touch his tawny cheek. Miraculously, he doesn’t pull away.

But that’s when the horrible pain shoots through my entire body again.

I gasp and hiss, suppressing the terrible scream I want to let out. My legs completely give out underneath me. Every bone in my body turns to jelly. As I’m falling, for the second time tonight, I feel arms wrap around me. Snow stops me from smashing my skull on the pavement. He gently lowers me down, my head pillowed on his thigh. I wish I was well enough to appreciate this.

“Holy fuck, Baz,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t know,” I reply, voice strained. I feel like I’m thinking through a fog. ”My back, it really hurts.”

Snow reaches around me, and I faintly feel his hand press against my back. When he pulls back, his palm and fingers are practically dripping in blood.

“Well,” I chuckle weakly, “that’s not good.”

“T-That’s a lot of blood...”

“No shit, Snow.”

He looks down at me with his wide eyes. “Why didn’t you say it was this bad?!”

“Well, we were a bit busy running for our lives.”

“Still!”

“Don’t worry, I’m-” I cough violently into my hand. When I pull it away, there’s tiny drops of scarlet on my pale skin. “Fine.”

“Oh my god, you’re dying.”

“Am not,” I grumble defiantly. Though, for once, Snow might have a point.

“Yes you are!” He runs a hand through his tangled curls. “Fuck, I don’t know any powerful healing spells. I don’t even have my wand!”

The reality of the situation finally hits me. Vampire healing can only work so fast. I suppose the wounds are too wide for it . Snow doesn’t have his wand, and it’s not like he can cast a proper spell anyway. I’m too weak to try to cast anything.

I’m going to bleed to death in an alley while Simon Snow holds me in his arms. It’s not exactly how I imagined I would go, but close enough.

The most surprising part though is how worried Snow looks. I’ve never seen him panicked like this. And all it’s over little old me. Interesting. Horrible, but interesting.

“Fuck, maybe we can get you to a hospital,” he mutters, more to himself than me.

“Snow,” I say, but he doesn’t listen.

“Maybe we can do to Dr. Wellbelove, he could help.”

“Snow.”

“Or maybe the Mage-”

“Simon.” That finally gets his attention and our eyes meet again. His are quivering, matching his shaky breaths. I reach up and touch his cheek. It’s soft, just like I always thought. “It’s okay.”

His brows pull together in indignation. “No, it’s not. You only got hurt because of me, a-and now you’re dying and I don’t know what to do!”

My weak hand trails from his cheek, down his arm, and finally lands on top of his fingers. “Stay,” I say hoarsely. “Just stay.”

Snow’s face tenses up again, and I swear I can see a few tears on his pretty face. It breaks my heart into pieces. He squeezes my hand. “Okay.”

I smile softly. My mind and body are fading, I can feel it. All my thoughts are getting muddled, inhibitions lowering, bravery rising in my final moments. I may finally be brave enough to say the one thing I’ve always wanted to.

“Hey, Snow,” I whisper.

“Yeah, Baz?” he replies.

“I never hated you.” His eyes bug out of his pretty skull. “You’re too incredible to hate.”

His lips fall open again. I want to kiss them. “What?”

“You’re amazing, the best person I’ve ever known.” My limbs are growing weaker. Snow’s face is becoming a blurry abstract blob of blue and bronze and gold. “I love you, Simon.”

The last thing I see is Snow’s beautiful face fall into utter shock, blue eyes sparkling and pink lips open wide. That’s a good thing to die looking at. I lose the ability to move at all. Everything is fading away. I wonder if my mother will greet me in the afterlife. I wonder if I even have a soul to go there.

And that’s my final thought before the world goes black.

———————————————

Hurts. Everything hurts.

My whole body aches worse than it has in years. Is this what Hell feels like? Just painful darkness for all eternity, uncertain of where you even are? It’s a far cry from fire and brimstone, but somehow so much worse.

Slowly, my other senses come back to me, something other than searing pain. I feel softness beneath me and over me. I hear clamoring voices and footsteps. And is that...bacon? Does hell smell like bacon?

It takes me awhile, but I realise I can open my eyes. Everything is too bright and blurry. I blink as my vision readjusts. Okay, I don’t think this is hell. Instead, it’s a small white room with old pine furniture. A closet, a desk, a shelf filled to the brim with books. I recognise the knapsack on the floor, dark blue with a feminist patch sewn on in blatant defiance of Watford’s uniform code. My eyes scan further up, and immediately grow wider.

Snow is curled up in a ratty arm chair, still dressed in his goblin blood covered jeans, hair tangled with the goop. His sleeping face is awkwardly squished against the side, a little drool falling from the corner of his mouth. But strangest of all, sprouting from Snow’s back are a pair of massive scaly red dragon wings that curl around him like a cocoon. A matching devil’s tale drapes over the seat and onto the floor. And I thought Snow couldn’t get anymore fascinatingly strange.

“Good morning, Basil.” I jolt up, causing pain to lance through my body. I hiss as I turn my head, though I already know who it is.

“Hello, Bunce,” I reply. “Where am I?”

“My house, in my room specifically.” She walks forward, looming over me in a strangely menacing way. “You’re welcome for the bed, by the way.”

I look down at the little twin bed I’m in. The sheets are moderately nice, and there’s a Star Wars blanket on top of me. “Um, thank you.” I run my hand over the fleece. It feels real enough. I look up at Bunce. “Am I dead?”

“Nope. Not for lack of trying though.” She points down, and I follow her finger. Well, this is something. My entire torso is wrapped in tight bandages, all the way from my shoulders to my waist.

“Oh my...”

“Yeah. You can thank my mum for that. She’s got five kids, she’s used to patching up scrapes. Though this was more than a scrape.”

“That’s an understatement. Damn goblins.”

“Simon told me all about it.”

My eyes flick over to Snow, curled up in his little wing cocoon. “What happened? How did I get here?”

She sighs and puts a hand on her hip. “Simon showed up here in the middle of the night carrying you and looking like...that. You were barely alive. He begged me to heal you. So we brought you upstairs and I casted every healing spell I know while Simon told me what happened, about the goblins and you saving his life. Then my mum bandaged you up. You survived, obviously, but I warned Simon that you may not wake up, considering how much blood you lost.” She glances over at the sleeping dragon boy. “He hasn’t left that chair, wouldn’t move no matter how much I asked him. For once, you might have a better idea of what’s going on with Simon than I do, Basil.”

If I had enough blood to blush, I would. Simon stayed with me. Was it out of guilt? Or something else? “I’m not sure, actually.”

“Alright.” She sounds a bit annoyed, but accepts it. “Do you need anything to eat? Or...anything to drink?”

I gulp and stare to the side. “Are you really buying into Snow’s crazy theories now, Bunce?”

“Not really. But you’re injured, so if he’s right, I think I’d rather ask than have you die.”

“Will you turn me into the Coven?”

Her eyes flick over to Simon, and her face softens, arms falling down. “I know I’m supposed to, but you saved my best friend’s life. I think it would be a dick move to turn you in after doing that.”

“You promise you won’t?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I promise.”

I see no sign of deception, no sign of malice. She looks genuinely kind. If I were stronger, I would probably keep refusing. But right now I feel like I’ve been run over by ten very heavy lorries. I don’t think I could survive without blood right now. So I lean further back against the wall.

“Animal blood works,” I say quietly. ”Despite Snow’s assumptions, I don’t kill humans. And if you have any real food it would be appreciated. I need that too.”

Bunce nods. “We made some blood pudding yesterday. I’ll get the leftover pig’s blood from the fridge. And I’ll make some soup too.”

I nod slowly. “Thank you, Penelope.”

She lightly pats my shoulder, trying to not aggravate my wounds. “Welcome.”

She turns on her heels and walks out. I take deep calming breaths, both for my wounds and for my panic. I just admitted I was a vampire. Penelope Bunce knows I’m a dark creature. But she hasn’t killed me. She’s grateful, because I saved Simon. And then I said I loved him. Bloody hell, what have I done?

“Baz?” I slowly turn my head to the side. Snow is rubbing his eye like a toddler just waking up from a nap. It’s absolutely adorable.

“Good morning, Snow,” I say with a raspy voice.

He stretches out, feet touching the ground and wings spreading out. He looks bloody majestic, like a storybook creature. “You’re awake.”

I laugh softly even though it hurts. “Yes, I am, last I checked.”

Snow stands up with shaky legs. His wings flare out and I’m even more glad that I can’t blush. “I...I thought you were dead.”

“Apparently I nearly was.”

“Yeah...” He walks towards while fiddling with his dirty fingers. “I really thought you were. Dead that is, in the alley after you passed out. There was so much blood...”

My heart aches at his small voice and nervous fiddling. He looks so scared. And it’s because of me. It hurts, yet a dark part of me wants him to care that I nearly died. “Yes, that goblin wasn’t playing around I suppose.”

My joke lands with with not even a fizzle. Snow’s face stays tense and nervous. He very slowly walks closer, like he’s afraid. I’m not sure of what though. “You were bleeding out, and I couldn’t think of anything to do. I was so sure you were going to die. I-I’ve never felt more scared and helpless in my life. And then...” He lifts his head. And his wide, wet, vulnerable eyes finally meet mine. “Baz, do you remember what you said to me? Just before you passed out?”

I gulp down the massive lump in my throat. Of course I remember. It was the stupidest decision I ever made, and I only did it because I assumed I was dying. Now I’m here, alive in a world where Simon Snow knows how much I adore him. So what do I do now? Do I run away? Or do I face the damage I’ve caused? I stare at Snow’s open face. There’s none of his usual anger. Snow has always worn his heart on his sleeve, he can’t hide anything he’s feeling. He’s obviously nervous, pulled in physically and emotionally, but he doesn’t look scared or angered. I think for once he doesn’t hate me. And I think for once I don’t need to be afraid.

“Yes,” I force out. “Yes, I remember, Snow.”

He lets out a quiet shaky, breath. A lot of tension leaves his shoulders. I think he assumed I would run away. I can’t blame him, I nearly did. Snow steps closer, standing at the edge of the bed. “Okay, okay. Did you, uh, mean it?”

My mouth pulls into a frown. Yes, Snow, I wanted to mess with you the minutes before I assumed I would die. Part of me wants to be angry, but I have never been truthful with him before. I can be now though. I nod slowly. “Yes, I did, Snow.”

“Oh.” His voice squeaks in this utterly adorable way. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Um, how long have you uh, felt like that?”

I chew my lip for a moment. No Basil, you’ve already gotten this far, don’t be a coward now. “A long time. Almost since we met.”

His eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Y-You’ve never said anything...”

I sigh, putting a hand on my stomach. “I never could, Snow. We’re meant to be enemies.”

“Oh, yeah...” He looks at the end of the bed and lazily lifts his arm. “Can I, uh, can I sit here?”

“Go ahead.” I’ll never object to having Snow near me, even if it’s at the end of a bed and between a sheet.

“So,” he starts tracing random patterns on his leg, “I know we’re supposed to be enemies. But you don’t want that, right?”

My heart aches, just like it did the moment I realised my feelings at 15. “No, I don’t. But it’s not like I have much choice.”

“Who says?”

I furrow my eyebrows. Even that hurts a bit to do right now. “Let’s see, my father, my aunt, your mentor, years of power abuse, the ghost of my mother, and the entire bloody Magickal World.”

“But none of those people are you, Baz.”

That hits hard. It’s delightful if not a bit tragic that Snow thinks I have any control over this matter. That I have any ability to do what I want.“No, but that’s not the point. Even you call me your nemesis.” And it stabs me in my undead heart every time I hear it.

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbles. Snow finally looks at me again, his gaze now determined. “But I’m not sure that’s true now.”

I won’t lie, that sends an ever frightful spark of hope in me. I school my face, only raising one eyebrow. “Oh?”

Snow nods, hands linked in his lap. “Yeah. I mean, I thought you were an evil monster, but you’re not. You’re a snob, and a bully, but you’re not a monster.”

“Thank you?”

He sighs and drags a hand over his tired face. “Sorry, words, ugh. What I’m trying to say is that you’re not the villain I always thought you were. You helped me fight the goblins and saved my life, twice really. I don’t think an evil person would do that.”

My mouth nearly twitches up into a smile, but I keep my composure. “If you say so...”

“Yeah, I-I do. And then,” he gulps a little, “when you were dying, seeing you like that...it was horrible. I suddenly thought about life without you, and it was terrifying. You’ve always been there. I can’t imagine you not being near me, where I can see you, where I can make sure you’re safe.”

Oh, how incredibly glad I am that I can’t blush right now. Why must Snow do this to me? My undead heart and broken body can only take so much. “You care for my safety? What, want to make sure you’re the one who kills me?”

Snow tilts his head back. “Baz, stop,” he groans loudly. “I’m trying to be serious here! I’m saying I don’t want you to die at all! The thought of you actually dying scares the fucking shit out of me. When you passed out, I sprouted fucking dragon wings and flew you here I was so terrified.” He puts his face in his hands, shoulders trembling with every breath. “You said you fucking loved me, Baz. I...I can’t even think about killing you now, it makes me feel sick.”

Crowley. He looks so upset, so broken. My brave strong hero, completely destroyed by the thought of my demise at his hands. I never thought I’d see the day. It’s absolutely heart wrenching. It’s difficult for me to lean forward, but I do it, for Simon. I place my hand on his. They lower slightly from his eyes, letting me see a sliver of plain blue.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry I scared you. And I’m sorry I put that on you so suddenly. It was unfair.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t yell at me or storm off to go bash something. Snow just grabs my hand tight while he wipes his eyes with the other. “It’s alright. Y-You thought you were going to die...”

I squeeze his hand lightly. “Yes. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to say it otherwise.”

He nods slowly, looking me in the eye. And I think we understand each other more now than ever before.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he says quietly.

“You don’t have that option,” I reply. “Neither of us do.”

“I don’t care.” He looks at me with his puffy eyes and little frown. “I’m not going to fight you. Everyone else can fuck off.”

A laugh spills out of my mouth. But even that relatively small sound hurts my chest. I hiss and press a hand over my heart. And to my utter surprise, Snow presses his own hand there.

“Lay down. You should actually rest. We both should.” His voice is soft, caring, and I wish I could hear it like that all the time.

I do as he says, shimmying down so my head rests on the pillow. I expect Snow to go back to his chair. But instead, he moves further up the bed. I freeze, and he decides to look up.

“Can I?” he asks. “T-The chair isn’t really comfortable...”

I slowly nod, hoping I won’t burst into flames from all the insane emotions inside of me. Snow lays down, just next to my arm, human and dragon limbs alike hanging off the edge. I shift to the side. Snow moves even closer. We stare at each other for a long moment, time and space bending around his plain blue eyes and freckled face.

“I like this,” Snow whispers. “What we’re doing now. I like this better than fighting.”

“What is this?” I ask, because I’m genuinely confused. I know what I want this to be but Snow might have an entirely different idea. He probably does.

“I’m not sure yet. I just know I like being close to you, making sure your safe instead of yelling. I don’t know if it’s...love. Love is a big word. I’ve never really fully got love, never learned about it as a kid. But I care about you a lot. I always have, but now it’s a good way.”

I’m filled with a mix of emotions. A swirling sea of hope and confusion and wonder. I want to believe Snow loves me or one day could, I really do. But it’s an impossible feat. Right? “Snow-”

“You called me Simon before.” That little smirk is so annoying and so attractive.

“Simon,” I sigh. “That’s very nice to say, but you know how strongly I feel. So please don’t play with my emotions.”

Snow shakes his head as hard as he can. “I’m not, I wouldn’t do that, Baz. I-I just...so much has happened today. I’ve just found out my enemy has loved me for almost seven years after nearly being killed by goblins. My tried as fuck brain is still catching up and shit. But I do know I really care about you, and I want to try...being with you in a better way. That’s all I can say for sure right now.”

If Snow were a terrible person, someone like me, I would doubt him. Maybe think this is some long plot to get me to let my guard down. But he’s such a golden hero, always has been. He’s honest, honourable, and kind to a fault, the things I love the most about him. He wouldn’t lie to me. But there’s still so much in our way...

“What do you want us to do then?” I sigh. “Just pretend we’re not on opposite sides of a war?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe we could do this and show everyone they can work together and don’t have to fight.”

“And the whole world of mages will hold hands and sing a song about cooperation.” My pessimism and sarcasm are always persistent.

Snow smiles slightly. I feel something brush against my hand and I jolt. I know exactly what it is though. All warm with rough calluses, what else it could be? “Could I start by holding your hand?”

I gulp again. I can’t imagine how ridiculous I look. I want that so much, but I’m scared. I’ve been scared for years. Snow has always been braver than I am. Maybe I can be brave too.

Slowly, I take Snow’s rough, warm hand in mine. Our fingers weave together perfectly like a finely made tapestry. Snow rubs his thumb back and forth on my skin. It’s so simple, yet my body feels like it’s burning to happy ash.

“We can talk more later,” he says. “I know you’ll want to overanalyze everything even more.”

I laugh again, not caring that it hurts my chest. “You know me too well.”

He smiles and squeezes my hand. “Yeah. Not as much as I thought I did though, so I want to learn more.”

It’s a miracle I’m not a puddle right now. I think Snow’s hand is the only thing anchoring me to this Earth. We stare at each other for a long time. He just keeps smiling. And slowly, I start doing the same.

“I want to learn more about you too.”

We grin at each other. Snow and I are both damaged, confused, exhausted young men. But that only means we can understand each other better than anyone else. It will be incredibly difficult. Almost everything and everyone will stand in our way. There’s a high chance of more bloodshed and tears. Yet, I think this could work.

Oh, how I want this to work.

———————————————

Penelope

Making any sort of food in my kitchen is incredibly difficult on a good day, what with six people living here, but today is particularly hellish. My mother and father are racing around trying to prepare for Christmas supper. They keep asking if Simon and Baz are going to be here tomorrow and if they’ll need more food. Priya asks if Simon is a pokemon now. Pip wonders if Baz is really a vampire. Pacey wants to eat the candy canes early. It takes far, far too long to make some damn soup and blood.

Finally, I get up the stairs with a bowl of chicken noodle and a thermos full of pig’s blood. I have no idea how Basil drinks this stuff. It smells absolutely vile. I keep the thermos far away from me as I climb the stairs. Slowly, I push open my bedroom door. And I nearly drop everything because of the sight I see.

I’m not sure what to make of this. Baz and Simon are both asleep, on the bed, very close together. I’ve never seen them so close, except when Simon was cradling Baz’s unconscious bleeding body earlier. This is far less horrifying.

Baz is still laying on his back with one hand on his stomach, but his other is entwined with Simon’s. He’s curled around Baz, face pressed into his long neck, arm draped over his shoulders, and one leg slung on top of his like he’s trying to climb Baz’s long body. Even his dragon limbs are all over Baz, tail wrapped around his thigh and wing draped over them like a scaly blanket. But the strangest thing is that Simon looks...calm. I’ve seen him sleep before, curled in a knot and whimpering from his nightmares. From what Simon has said, Baz has nightmares too. Right now though, they’re just laying there with no sign of pain.

Baz got seriously injured after saving Simon’s life. Simon brought a near dead Baz to me while almost in tears. Now they’re tangled up together and sleeping peacefully.

Everything is starting to make sense.

I leave the tray on my desk. I doubt the soup will still be warm by the time they wake up, but I’d rather let them sleep. Simon and Baz are still snoring softly when I close the door. And I think that’s the best thing to happen today.

———————————————

AN: Alright another one done! I've still got a quite a few in my inbox, including the ones I had to skip and go back to later. And if anyone else wants to send a request before I close them, please do so by September 2nd. You can choose from the cliche/trope list or just what you want. I can't promise I'll get to it soon, but I'll do my best. Have a nice day :D