#can he breathe?? can he store electricity in those painted-on cheeks??

[polwigle]

almost certainly not the example OP had in mind, but

this is the blorbo.

this is the blorbo on Marketing™.

Personal peeve but cannot handle seeing the blorbo drawn in a """more attractive way""" and its cause the artist doesn't fucking get it, the "flaws" were always the best fucking part

I wanna take them by the shoulders and shake them like you didn't "make them sexier" you fucking neutered their vibes

[a-crepusculo]

You (Ethan x MC)

Part Six - Finale

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x Dr. Marchia Bisognin (F!MC) Series: Marry Me Series Premise: One simple question can change their whole lives forever. Rating / Category: General / Fluff Warning(s): None Word Count: 1,585 words

Previous Parts Here

A/N: And we have reached the end, my dear friends. Thank you, thank you, thank you for taking part in this little adventure. I am forever grateful for every single one of you! I hope you enjoy this 🤍

Disastrous.

The word slipped into Ethan’s mind on itself, so eerily fitting, especially under the current circumstances that surrounded him.

Today was supposed to be the day. A rose gold shoulder dress tailored specifically for her; hundreds of sunflowers⁠—one of her favorites⁠—painting every inch of his private opera box; their usual spot reserved on the corner of her go-to sushi restaurant; and a two-carat diamond ring, bestrew with smaller diamonds around it, to ask her the increasingly urgent question that has been haunting his mind. 

He had planned it all, down to the last detail of it. The most magnificent, romantic proposal for the woman that took his heart and brought it back to life.

Alas, the universe had something else in store.

Minutes before they were about to leave the hospital—officially commencing the secret mission of ‘popping-the-question’—Zeus himself decided to rain on his parade.

An immense, blinding, guillotine blade of electricity illuminates a bright pathway above—buzzing and fizzing, ready to strike anyone who stood in their way. The graphite sky was trembling with anger; layers of heavy dark clouds blanketed the city. Veils of rain trickled through the city, and suddenly, a ferocious storm galloped across the streets of Boston in full throttle.

With no preparation whatsoever, Edenbrook’s emergency room quickly filled up. Multiple injuries flooded the scene, demanding every attention from the doctors available—including the esteemed medical pair, Chief Ramsey and Doctor Bisognin.

In the last eight hours, they spent their time doing what they love most: helping patients in need. The ER became their dance floor, and they tangoed around the room with graceful fluidity. Their movements, intricately innate and natural, made it hard to believe for anyone that there was once a time they were not considered as one.

And now, as the clock strikes midnight and a new day has begun, all Ethan could do was stare at the crisp white hospital floor and wallow in his own failure.

Failing himself, and Marchia, once more.

“Hi, handsome.”

His heartbeat chanted a feverish rhythm inside his chest. He could recognize that feathery, soothing voice from miles away.

Ethan glanced upward, looking at her with a combination of admiration and bliss. She seemed to be a living embodiment of light—shining, gleaming, bringing warmth and benevolence to those who seek.

“Whatcha doin?” she simply asked, an impish grin hanging on her face.

Her tiny figure collapsed into the sofa, subtly wiggling closer to him. As their bodies pressed together side by side, she leaned in to give a quick, yet passionate kiss on his cheek—a sure-fire way to take his breath away.

For obvious reasons, the older doctor knew that he could not tell her how he botched his ambitious, probably over-the-top plan to propose her. Hearing the story would amuse her, surely, but he would rather keep it to himself until he could come up with another plan.

“Just thinking.”

Marchia only grinned crookedly at him, not adding further comment to his vague statement. The forest within her irises, however, scanned their surroundings. Somehow, she was captivated by the room they currently sat in.

“I remember it like it was yesterday,” she murmured softly.

Deep lines of confusion were visible on his forehead.

“About?”

“You,” she informed him confidently, her cheeks flushed under the bright lamps. “This room, meeting you here, or I guess being chastised for my amateur techniques.”

Then it hit him.

They were back in the room where it all started.

The very same waiting room that became a witness of their fated meeting.

Memories of her first day rippled through his head. Azure orbs caught Marchia for the first time; a young, enthusiastic doctor in the making, eager to make an impact in the medicine world. Back then, he has not realize who she is yet—but why does it feel like Ethan had known her his whole life?

Seconds ticked by and a scalpel landed in her palm. She became frightened, worried that she would take someone else’s life instead of healing it. Yet he was there, in every step of the way. His steady, trained hands guided her through her first emergency thoracotomy, never leaving her side.

And from that exact moment on, he could never leave her.

No matter how hard he tried. 

As if she could read his thoughts, the beautiful blonde reached out to grab his hand. She caressed him, gently and lovingly, with a tender smile that crinkled the edges of those green eyes he had loved more than world itself.

“Look how far we’ve come, sayang,” she spoke in a soft murmur.

Happiness and love were laced into every word she uttered, but there was another important sentiment slipped inside it: she was proud. Proud of the couple they have become, proud of him.

An uneasy knot tightened around his throat. Her ring, burning inside his right pocket, was waiting with baited breath—practically screaming to be released from captivity. His fight-or-flight response kicked in, and this time, he choose to fight. Fight for their love, fight for her.

Oh, to hell with it.

“Marchia,” he called her name as he stood up, taking her hands along with him. She rose to her feet, gaze locked in on one another.

“Hrm?” she returned, eyes glimmering like a curious cat.

“Tonight, I had a whole plan.”

She scrunched her face, head tilting to the side.

“A whole plan to what?”

“I had a whole plan to propose you tonight. Or, technically speaking, last night.”

Marchia stills in his arms, light draining from her delicate countenance. “Excuse me?”

“We were supposed to go to the opera tonight. I had the perfect dress for you, and the private box filled with your favorite sunflowers. I booked our favorite corner at Midori. After that, I was going to take you to that new gelato place near our apartment, and propose to you. Of course, as you can see, the plan blew up on my face and I failed miserably.”

He stopped, the words catching up at his throat.

“Yet I realize that I don’t need a grandiose, overambitious plan of action.”

The warmth of his hand traveled to his pocket, reaching out to grab the little navy blue box. The tiny case contained so much more than her engagement ring—it held his hopes, desires, dreams for her and their future family together.

“Ethan—”

“I love you, Marchia. More than words could ever describe. When I stood here on your first day, years ago, I would never thought about loving someone as deeply as I love you, let alone marrying you. You turned me into a better person, a better partner. With all your love and your patience, you never lose hope in me, even after I tried my best to push you away. You put together those broken, shattered pieces of myself and made me whole again. With your wittiness and clumsiness, you brought love and joy, more that I could ever known in my entire existence. I am utterly grateful to have the pleasure of knowing you, my love, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

“Are you—” she stuttered, her initial confusion turned into a singular moment in which everything just seems to click. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

He dropped on one knee to answer her question.

“There’s so much in life that needs to be celebrated, and I want to do it with you, sayang.”

Carefully, he opened up the box, revealing the bespoke metal refinery—made to fit her ring finger perfectly.

“Marry me, Marchia Ivy Bisognin.”

Ethan had said those words a million times, but nothing came close to how he felt when he actually voiced it in front of her.

Small tears spilled out of her eyes and rolled down her lovely features. With each second, the anxiety of her potential answer—which could very possibly lead to a rejection—gnawed at his heart. His confidence, usually as tall as the Empire State building, began to crumble under the immense pressure.

What if she never really loved him? What if she changed her mind about marriage? What if she—

“Yes!” she squealed out her answer. “Yes, Ethan!”

The heavy weight on his chest instantly lifted, replaced by a smile brighter than sun itself. Fighting back the urge to spill down his own tears, he got on his feet and took the golden band, sliding the ring into its rightful place.

Years ago, this same room was occupied with numerous people, living their daily life. But right now, it was filled with the only person that matters to him.

Ethan did not need any more reason to pull Marchia closer, kissing her with all the love he could give. A string of kisses—small ones, quick ones, tender ones—reminded him that he was the luckiest man on Earth, and indeed he was. Everything that he ever wanted, everything that he ever needed—it was right there, right in front of him, wrapped in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear, reverently, like a prayer that keeps him alive.

“I love you more, sayang,” she said with absolute certainty.

The private moment between them lingered, eyes locking in on one another, magnetized. They stayed in the blissful silence, relishing the momentous milestone with euphoric and goofy smiles across their faces.

And in this little bubble of delight, their journey to forever has begun.

I’ll be tagging in a separate post!

[hunflowers]

The Aftermath

Word Count: 3.7k

Requested? Yes, and you can too, here :)

A/N: here she is, the little piece of the puzzle y’all have been waiting for. it’s a small part two of 1964, and it’ll take place just after their reunion at the end of the story!! i hope you enjoy it, because i missed writing my babies a lot and i hope you love them just as much as me.

pls, reblog the fics you read or heck even if you see it on your dash; it means a lot <3

good luck and have fun, in that order *nose boops*

“Happy Birthday, Rose.”

No one can explain the phenomenon of joy processed through the body and soul as Harry spoke those simple words into the air to Y/N.

It can only be described as a chill shooting down her spine, flaring goosebumps on her skin, her mouth running dry at the sight of him, or maybe the way her eyes glossed over with a glistening sheen. Pure joy.

As if she didn't already feel transported back to 1964 when sharing her many stories with her eager to learn granddaughter, she certainly did now. Seeing Harry's face, the same features that made her swoon all those years ago - though a little mature now - made her feel like she was her twenty-one year old self all over again.

It felt like a movie, as if the two of them shaped back into their younger statures, adorned in the style from way back when, embodying a world of black and white that would explode into color. Hannah and Eleanor disappeared into the future, and all there was, was Harry and Y/N like how they once were.

Before she could process what she was doing, Y/N was scurrying across the wood floor, walking the fast she has in a while, throwing her arms around Harry’s shoulders and burying her face into the crook of his neck. She could feel the rumble of his chest as he laughed, easily reciprocating the love by engulfing her in a hug, pulling her impossibly closer.

The smell of the roses swarmed Y/N’s nose, tingling her senses in the best way possible. Her brain was overpowering as it continued to be overwhelmed by the events happening, still trying to understand how Harry, her H, was in front of her.

Pulling away a few moments later - but not completely unraveling herself from his hold - she looked up at him, looking at her favorite shade of green that she tried so hard to recreate yet always failed. “Are you really here?”

“Yes! He is, Nona!” Ellie cheered from behind her, causing everyone to gape at her while also laughing. He’s really here, in her arms, breathing the same air as her.

Maybe he wasn’t a dream, after all.

Looking back up at him, Y/N smiled softly, bringing her hands up under his jaw, using her thumbs to caress the soft skin that was lined with a little bit of stubble. “I missed you,” she whispered, almost like it was meant to be a secret.

With his own little grin, Harry placed his own free hand on her cheek, using his thumb to swipe the tear that managed to escape her eye without her noticing. Instinctively, Y/N leaned her head to rest in his palm, a reflex she never seemed to have shake.

Harry didn’t have to say anything back for her to know that he felt the same way, if not more. His actions always spoke a lot louder than his words, and it also seemed that old habits hardly seem to die, even so many years later.

“Okay,” Hannah cleared her throat, trying to gain the attention of the two older folk for the first time in the last couple of minutes. “We’re meeting Aunt Carmella and Uncle Frank in twenty minutes.”

The duo separated, heat rising to their cheeks as they realized just how close they had been for those moments. Harry offered her her bouquet of roses, to which she took gratefully and scurried off to find a vase, uttering a quick, “I’ll be right back.”

In reality, yes she went to find a vase, but Y/N also needed a second to recuperate, inhaling deeply to get her heart to start slowing its rapid pace. Fifty-five years since she’s seen him.

Fifty-five.

It was a lot to comprehend. She was convinced she’d never look at him, hold him, appreciate his existence ever again. One thing is for sure, she never did stop loving him.

Y/N placed her hands down on the counter she placed her roses on, leaning her weight onto her hands as she felt the emotions roll over her like waves crashing on a beach. Her insides felt like mush. She was experiencing the come down after getting off a rowdy rollercoaster, like those she used to go on on Coney Island whenever she visited New York. Electricity shot through her veins as if she had been succumbed to the consequences of the electric chair - yet it wasn’t painful. In fact, she felt alive.

“Mom,” Hannah spoke from behind her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. Y/N didn’t realize she had been so lost in her own thoughts for a few moments there. Raising her hand to her chest, she turned around and let out a breath, before smacking her daughter in the shoulder.

“You can’t do that to me, Han. I’m old, I could die from a heart attack.”

“Don’t even joke about something like that,” Hannah rolled her eyes. But quickly the annoyance dissipated as she remembered why she came into the kitchen in the first place. “Are you okay?”

Y/N pursed her lips, giving her a simple shrug. “Yes and no. It’s not easy being reminded of... the love and pain I felt. How did you even find him, anyway?”

Hannah sheepishly smiled, “Aunt Carmella...”

Y/N scoffed, knowing it was exactly like her friend to be secretive about something so monumental like knowing where Harry is and how to contact him. She couldn’t determine if it was a good thing that Carmella kept this information from her, but deep down she knew it was.

As soon as Y/N gathered her wits, the foursome were out the door and on their way to lunch. They had decided to drive two separate cars, and after a bit of begging, Y/N let Harry drive them in his rental. Though, along the way it was a bit of rocky journey. “First time driving on the right side of the road,” was his excuse.

In the car ride, Y/N took the time to truly admire the man she once laid beside at night, trying to wrap her head around the fact that he was next to her again. She wondered if in his old age he would turn wrinkled and decrepit, maybe using a cane or having a hunch back. It only seemed fitting that he beat all of those stereotypes and looked like he had the health of his younger self rather than a seventy-six year old man. He’s timeless; just like their love.

When they finally met up with Carmella, it didn’t take Y/N long to scold her friend for keeping such a humongous secret from her, and working in tandem with her own daughter and granddaughter. All the Italian woman did was shrug before latching her arms around both Harry and Y/N’s frames, pulling the three of them close for a long-awaited, reuniting hug that felt like home.

“Il trio è tornato e meglio che mai. questo merita un brindisi,” [The trio is back and better than ever. This deserves a toast] Carmella cheered, clapping her hands in giddiness as she waved the waitress back over to order the most extravagant wine.

Leaning down to whisper in Y/N’s ear, Harry muttered, “And I still have no idea what she’s saying.” Y/N bumped his shoulder with hers, shaking her head gently as a small smile snuck up onto her lips.

Lunch was shared with many laughs and old stories - all per the request of Ellie. She was eager to keep learning and eager to see her nona so happy.

When lunch was over and they were all saying goodbye, Ellie practically all but pushed Y/N to go with Harry so they could go somewhere private. Hannah of course condoned her daughter’s behavior, but also told her mom it was for the best they catch up without either of them around. They needed to be alone.

That’s how they ended up at the park downtown, where Y/N used to frequent often when she used to run in the mornings or whenever she needed a spark of creativity for her next painting. 

Once Harry placed the car in park, the stagnant tension between them only rose as neither of them jumped to get out of the vehicle. They simmered, absorbed, melted into the atmosphere, basking in it before they flipped it on its head to talk about what they both had been avoiding.

It was an unspoken truce to get out of the car at the same time. The sun was winking at them through the clouds, luring them to venture deeper into the park, just like it used to. Almost as if the star was just as excited as them to be back in each other’s lives. The saying is if walls could talk, but what about the sun? Or the moon? Both kept Harry and Y/N’s moments inside of them, stored deep in their cores right next to all the other love that happened in their line of vision.

Out of instinct, the two locked hands. And they didn’t seem to mind. It felt like a magnet pulled them together, and it would take a lot of force to break them apart.

As they walked along the paved path, being passed by those on bikes or joggers, or really even anyone that walked faster. They weren’t in any sort of rush, because moments like these aren’t meant to be fast paced. They needed to simmer, absorb, and melt.

Harry decided to be the first to speak up, surprising both of them considering, well, his past. “I see the artist life treated you well.”

Slightly turning her head to face him, she laughed softly, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess it did. You predicted it.”

I can’t wait to buy your art one day.

Harry gazed down at his feet, humming a response. He didn’t have the proper words to respond to her allusion to his letter. Hearing the twinge of spite sitting on top of her words was enough for him to gauge that his letter was a sore topic for her. And rightfully so, because even he hasn’t completely forgiven himself for not giving her a proper goodbye.

Coming up on a patch of grass that was half hidden beneath a large oak tree and half in the glory of the sunlight, Harry and Y/N decided to take a seat. If they were going to throw themselves into the past, might as well go all the way and lay in the grass like they did in Florence. Albeit, they wouldn’t actually lay down because it would’ve been impossible for either of them to properly get up.

They rested their backs against the large trunk, looking out into the field and watching little kids play around as their parents kept their distance off to the side with other parents. Y/N found it near impossible to not snap a mental picture of what was in front of her, cursing herself for not bringing her camera with her. It was a beautiful day, and one she wished to remember. Not because of the dreadful conversation that was bound to swallow her whole or the man sitting beside her, but because of the landscape.

What a waste of a beautiful day.

Now, it was her turn to break the silence, because she knew he wouldn’t. He may have once, but that was all he could probably handle. “Tell me about your life, Harry. Please.”

Letting out a breath of air he didn’t realize he had been holding in, Harry twiddled with his thumbs in his lap. “Got two kids. Ben and, uh, Rose.”

Ouch.

“Five beautiful grandchildren.” He spoke shortly and to the point, finding it very difficult to open up the can of worms that is his life.

Once Harry got the call from Carmella that he was going to surprise Y/N for her birthday, he couldn’t get on a plane any faster. The idea of being face-to-face with her again after so many years was daunting and normally he found it difficult to escape his confined box of reality. But that was the thing about Y/N, she always made things seem less terrible to him.

England is his origin and where his family resides, but it hardly felt like home anymore.

His marriage with Nancy balanced on its very thin, tight rope for thirty years, but they both knew it was bound to fall off. Once he returned from Italy, it was like he was a soldier returning from war, because he in no way was the same man who left for Italy when coming home. But, they pushed on, because it was what they were meant to do.

They had two wonderful kids and they seemed like the picturesque family they were planned to be. Behind closed doors, they were anything but. He and Nancy fought a lot and their kids seemed to loathe him for reasons still unbeknownst to him. He supported them and loved them like any parent would, yet it felt like they joined everyone else in his life that wanted to keep him silent. Everyone except one person.

Once his and Nancy’s divorce was finalized, the kids couldn’t be more thrilled. All they needed was a solid reason to drop their father out of their lives. As the years went on they slowly worked him back into their day-to-day routine, but not really. Only for the sake of his grandkids was he in their lives.

It was especially hard living his life knowing his own creations couldn’t stand him just like everyone else, and that was exactly why he couldn’t agree faster to get on a plane to America.

“I officially retired last year, so m’not really doing much these days. Actually, I picked up drawing again if y’could believe it. Haven’t touched a pencil for artistic purposes since... well, since then.” Their heads remained forward, not a single glance made towards one another because it felt easier this way. 

Y/N listened intently to the drawl of his voice, engraving the words he spoke deep into her mind, right next to the dusty ones he spoke fifty-five years prior. Everything and anything he’s ever said rests idly on little bookshelves in her brain, collecting dust the longer she takes to go back and hear them over. It was nice to add new additions to her collection. “That sounds lovely, H.”

His heartstrings pulled at the use of his nickname, something only she would call him. He was only Harry to any one, both by his choice and because every one else was too prim to call him something else.

Y/N took notice to how he mentioned nothing of Nancy, and paired that with the fact he wasn’t wearing a wedding band on his most intimate finger. She thinks maybe he did it out of courtesy to not beckon any unwarranted anguish and pain for her sake - because that’s exactly why she didn’t wear hers.

When she went to put her flowers in a vase in the kitchen, she slid her engagement and wedding rings off her finger and set them down gently on the counter, not wanting to clash her two separate lives.

That’s why she had to ask about her. She couldn’t keep going if she didn’t have any sort of answer to her wondering questions that she’s had for the past five decades. “How’s Nancy?” Y/N didn’t care to actually know how she is, she just wanted to know their story.

The leaves above them blew in the suddenly apparent wind, threatening them that what they were about to indulge in was like a storm on the horizon. It was bound to come and impossible to avoid. “Dunno. Haven’t spoken to her in a couple of weeks.”

This opened the door to many unanswered questions in Y/N’s mind, sending her down on spiral of want and need for an explanation that he didn’t seem keen on giving. This closed the most important door, flooding her with relief she didn’t realize she needed to feel just a little less pain sitting next to him.

Not knowing just how to pose her next question, Harry beat her to the punch, halting her thoughts in her tracks. “We’re divorced.”

Divorced. A strange concept. Y/N never imagined divorcing her husband in all of the years they were married. It seemed trivial and time-consuming and led to no greater purpose in her mind. She could either be miserably alone, or miserable with a man by her side. The latter seemed the most comforting.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not. We weren’t meant to be,” he chuckled, laughing not because it’s actually funny, but because Y/N knew they weren’t meant to be. It was obvious. “Just meaningless pieces in my parents puzzle.”

Hearing his broken words that he used to rant about all those years ago resurface, Y/N couldn’t help reaching for his hand again, clasping it between both of hers and holding it in her lap. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, because it was certain his parents were still a sore subject. She wanted him to know that she never forgot the hurt they put him through, and that she will always be on his side. Always.

Diverting the attention away from himself, it was Harry’s turn to pour salt into a wound he knew would sting harshly. “Did you uh, ever get married, Rose?”

When Carmella had managed to get his number a couple years after Italy, they kept in contact nearly every week. A lot of the time their topic of conversation would revolve around Y/N, and what ever new information Carmella could relay. One thing he refused to know however, was if she ever got married. He didn’t need to know, nor did he want to. But now, he supposes he does. 

“I did. He passed in February.” The 1st. Coincidental, maybe ironic. “He was a good man.”

Silence. It was nice Y/N was able to settle herself with someone deemed to be good. It’s what she deserved. But Harry didn’t want to know anymore.

Silence. They kept their heads forward, but over time Y/N’s head slowly ended up resting on Harry’s shoulder. Their hands stayed latched and their bodies radiated each other’s warmth. Y/N felt cold though. Rehashing their pasts slowly brought them closure, but it in no way healed the pain that rested heavy on her heart. “I wish things could’ve been different for us, Harry.” They deserved different than what they were given. Why do soulmates exist if they can’t be together? 

A love like theirs is folklore; unsure if it ever existed, but meant to be told for generations. “We were special don’t you think?”

“We were everything,” Harry murmured, squeezing her hands, then planting a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

Y/N laughed again at his allusion, but she wasn’t laughing because it was funny, but because it stung like a wasp. Over and over again. “I’ve still got that stupid piece of paper, y’know. Your letter. Saved it all these years because it was all I had.”

The little anger she had left inside of her began to bubble up. Though it didn’t last very long as tears welled in her eyes, just like when she picked up the stupid paper for the first time. Grief stampeded her stomach like a herd of frightened elephants, bruising her deeply as the pain she felt from that day made itself known in the present.

“You didn’t say goodbye. Why didn’t you say goodbye?”

The wind picked up as the clouds in the sky completely covered the sun in forecast, hovering over Harry as a reminder, just in case he didn’t already know the pain he caused.

Pulling Y/N close to his chest, he let her cry, knowing it was best to not say anything at all. She wasn’t legitimately asking why he didn’t, but it felt good to get the question off her chest. So he let her cry, his own tears pricking his waterline, balancing on the edge before tumbling over and down onto his cheeks.

Just when the sun began to come out from its hiding spot, the two subsided their emotions, calming down just like the leaves above their heads. The storm had passed. All that’s left now is the aftermath.

“We don’t get forever, Rose. But we have each other now.”

Something tells them though that despite how many physical years they may have left with one another, they’ll always have forever. The thought rests easy on their minds.

With just a few more minutes of sitting in the grass and simmering, absorbing, melting, the duo decided it was time to get up. They were going to put the past behind them, starting with the fact that maybe they were too old to be sitting in the grass like they used to.

Laughs and giggles were exchanged as they both tried to get to their feet as gracefully as possible without drawing any attention to themselves. They were a heap of giggles and optimism as they retraced their steps back onto the pathway, heading back to his car.

It almost seemed like déjà vu the moment a speedy bicyclist zoomed past Y/N, nearly grazing her left side. She moved out of his way just in the nick of time, but haphazardly fell into Harry’s arms, who always seemed ready to catch her even in the most abrupt of times.

It all happened so fast yet also so slow, running parallel to the moment this exact occurrence happened fifty-five years ago. Their whole day ran parallel to their pasts, so it was only inevitable that that same electricity sparked through their bodies again.

They gazed into each other’s eyes the moment her body felt safe, that same magnet pulling them close enough that their mouths were only a few inches apart. Not a single word was exchanged as their breaths mingled together and their fingers gripped each other forcefully.

Remembering when she told Ellie about their first electric moment, Ellie immediately questioned if the two of them had kissed because it seemed like the perfect moment. Disappointingly, they didn’t.

She would hate to disappoint her granddaughter again.

So, this time they did.

It was the perfect moment, after all.

[jesytr]

her once calm demeanor was held into frame with the choice of outfit she pulled off the store mannequins that afternoon. not quite paying for them either. the red and black complimenting her own tastes in fashion , with a DIY'd set of patches that she sewn up herself. scattering the black and red diamonds by the legs. throwing a leather black coat over everything. nothing quite warm enough to help. her hair up in pigtails and makeup wetting and streaming down her cheeks after her fits of laughter was done with.

Johnathon Crane had done a NUMBER ON HER. after being kidnapped , accusing him with his maltreatment to Arthur and numerous other victims of Arkham state. she was held up in the middle of nowhere with nothing, but torture equipment including electrical jolts sent to her brain. seeing nothing, but bugs Bunny , and Mickey mouse dancing across her eyelids.

that was about a week ago, " before. " she answered honestly. still somewhat chuckling into her breathe, " I was a scrawny teenager back when I met him. I wanted ta' date him for all the wrong reasons . . . n' he just wanted someone that was willin' ta' do whatever. so when he tried ta' do whatever he wanted ta' me , I broke out six o' his teeth on school grounds. under the bleachers. "

Harley doesn't take his offered cigarette. mouthing that she's not much of a smoker.

she pulled her jacket more in place as he pointed out her excessive need to be a psychiatrist - those old ideas that had been put to death - ever since she gave up her career as an Arkham asylum employee, " Nah. that's all in the past, and I ain't lookin' back. Arkham can hire another blondie lookin' fer her dream there. plus . . . who said I owe 'em more than that ?? I was on the wrong end o' the table , alright. with the board of executives dinin' at the front o' it. " she exhaled and darted her eyes across the street , watching as a group of hooded gothamites stuck their hands in their pockets , waiting for a bus to stop for them. breathing in the suspicion that perhaps what the group was looking for was something of a bad time for the good people of Gotham.

she offered , ". ya' think they are going ta' start something bad ?? " pointing out the group to arthur. it was quickly pointed out to be true as as soon as the bus arrived , squealing to a stop , the group busted out guns and hijacked the vehicle. shouting orders and pressing the barrel into the bus drivers neck. passing by other passerbys who had done nothing more, but existed in the crime risen city. police sirens going off and flashing lights as the bus zoomed off , with sirens in tow. police chasing after.

Harley sighed with a sense of admiration and ease , shoving her chin in the palm of her hands , ". Ya' gotta love it. the daily grind o' Gotham streets finest , compared ta' the criminal undergrounds o' Gotham's mainstream. " she painted herself as someone that WANTED TO COMMIT A CRIME. and get away with it , ". but I ain't a fan of cops. "

you don't see color & want to go back to black & white .

it hit her like a nail pushed into a coffin. the needle lunging in deep enough to keep its living corpse trapped within. she could feel a thought stirring deeply within her noggin'. rustling around with other more important thoughts. those like . . . define black and white ?? . . . what did it matter to him ?? . . . and how'd he guess it so easily??

reading her like an educated tutor telling their student how to do mathematics. she didn't enjoy the thought that what he was doing was digging deeper into the parts of her that lacked color. that crept forwards with an afterthought of feeling left behind. that how she saw the world was exactly like a colorful giraffe on a tight rope. eventually they'd either break the rope , or . . .

" ya' know me. " she chewed out her words. though with slight fascination on how he had figured it all out in the span of a couple words. MASKING QUICKLY BEHIND BLUE EYES THAT LOOKED AWAY, " it's not my fault. " she added. her hands flexed and she pulled out a chewable piece of candy. rolling it in her fingers. feeling the texture of the wax paper settling against her fingers.

" ya' don't know this about me, but my dad used ta' kick me around. " eyes went down. no longer presently there. her mind floating away from her body. pulling up out of daydreams she was somewhere else. listening to looney tunes intros on repeat. as if that old man could still reach her from his stay plugged up in Gotham height's hospital bed, " yea . . . real messed up childhood. ma didn't think ta' leave him then , only when it was her turn ta' look black n' blue. "

she pulled the papers off her piece of caramel before plopping it in her mouth. sticking to candy as one of her main habits of nervousness. not quite stable enough to understand maybe it was a coping skill. settling back in her seat. legs crossed. hands beginning to fidget. keeping up a described version of what anyone wanted out of herself. she let out a nervous chuckle. one that pitched almost to the extreme. only laughing at the memories of her father. kept safely locked behind her eyes. she laughed, and laughed before settling on her next words, " Ahh! Too funny! I haven't laughed like that in awhile. maybe next time I'll tell ya' about this boy I knew. he thought he'd hurt me like my old man. " she wiped tears out of her eyes before continuing, " I knocked out a few o' his teeth. "

[p4lparker]

Calming Touch, Racing Hearts

You could feel his calm breathing, his chest rising and falling smoothly as he slept soundly. You on the other hand couldn’t get your mind to stop racing- you’d panicked, when it came down to it you were scared. Not of him- or the act, just what it might result in; over the past few days, you couldn’t see how this situation could possibly resolve without one or more of the party being hurt. You cared for both of your boys, deeply. And those feelings had only been more cemented. They were two sides of the same coin.

JJ like a wildfire, that spread through your body like a current of electricity. He was rash, and full of bravado; but that was only to cover the pain he was in, he relied on you and John B for more than friendship. He was beautiful and broken. But he was caring and sweet, loyal to a fault. He was carved by the gods- his eyes the bluest thing you’d seen since the ocean. His smile could light up the darkest of rooms. And he would protect you and John B regardless of the cost to himself. He made you feel safe and loved, in the small things he would do for you; like buying himself Reese’s and then letting you devour them instead as he knew they were your favourites, like when he carried an extra hoodie because you would always get cold and would never bring one yourself, like when he constantly touches you in some way or other whether it’s a hand twirling the ends of your hair or fingers tracing patterns on any exposed skin. You bit your lip as you felt John B pull you closer in his sleep, and the guilt that washed over you felt almost unbearable.

And then there was the boy holding you close to him now. John B was the calm before the storm- where JJ was rash and impulsive, John B was cool and collected. He was just as beautiful as JJ- dark gaze always betraying his emotions, they were always displayed so clearly for all to see. John B was the light to JJ’s dark. He made you feel calm like waves lapping at the shore, being with John B felt like coming home after an adventure. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, and was always tried to what he felt- letting his heart lead him and get him into trouble more times than not. John B was gentle- fingers ghosting over your skin, and he had an obsession with your hands. His fingers playing with the tips of your own or stroking the delicate skin of your wrist.

Your mind was a blur, thoughts about both boys were vying for your attention and your heart. But neither was winning out- whenever you thought about your future all you could see was you and your boys. If you imagined going on a date with one of them- a day dream about the other would pop into your head. And thinking about these boys were driving you to despair. You felt a deep sigh leave you lips, your phone buzzing and chiming beside you- swiping on the screen you saw the weather update, this storm was the tip of the ice berg, there was more to come, much more. You brushed your hair from your face and turned to look at the sleeping boy beneath you, raising a hand an stroking along his cheek softly, watching as his lips quirked into a gentle smile before his eyes opened and his blurry gaze was settled on you.

“Hey you… Guess I fell asleep…”He whispered, his voice rough form sleep, he just looked so soft. Hair even more of a mess than usual, hazel eyes unfocused and droopy and the content smile still tugging at his soft lips. His eyes gazed up at you, and it felt like he as trying to read your mind. “You didn’t sleep though…” He murmured, bushy brows furrowing as he lifted a hand and let his thumb smooth across the frown lines on your forehead and between your own brows. You shook your head and smiled slightly.

“How’d you guess?” You asked, letting your finger tap against his throat in time to the steady beating of his heart and pulse. You watched as his expressive eyes widened slightly and he cleared his throat.

“You always look really cute when you just wake up… you get all soft and pouty… But now you’re all frowny..” He muttered, his own brows slanting downwards to match your own. You raised you brows and painted a smile on your face- before pushing yourself up and off him, and reaching blindly for clothes that were still scattered around the pair of you. Tugging on articles of clothing haphazardly you tossed a shirt and some shorts to him as he stayed laying on his back watching you dress. The clothing landing on his face and he let out an ‘oof ‘ as they landed in a pile. You moved the fabric from his eyes and showed him the weather update.

“We should be getting back to your place.. it’ll need storm proofing..” You stated and continued to shimmy clothes onto your cold body. You could feel the tension settling within your body once more. And you didn’t want to let John B in on your inner monologue- so rushing him to get redressed and hide his tempting body from your greedy eyes. He got dressed- though his gaze never faltered from you, even when you both were situated in the seats up front and he was manoeuvring the Twinkie through the rainy streets; the storm having let up slightly, the thunder and lightning having stopped a short while ago, and the darkness of the evening drawing in. The wet road seemed to stretch on before you for eternity, and the journey to the chateau seemed to take forever and a day- your leg was bouncing as you tried to rid yourself of the nervous energy your body seemed to be storing; you were coming to the realisation that you needed some advice, and that meant Kie. You wondered whether you should reveal all to her or try and keep her mostly in the dark- you swiped and tapped at the screen of your phone- letting Kie know you were on your way to her, now all you needed to do was make a get-away from John B, you wracked your brain as he pulled onto the dirt track drive in front of the chateau. You followed him in to the messy building, stepping over pizza boxes and empty beer cans and bottles. You watched as he paced around slightly, something bothering him- from the frown marring his handsome face to the darkening of his eyes, and the way his hand carded through his curls- it was obvious he had something on his mind, and he was trying to find the words to broach the subject.

“Hey, are we okay?” He blurted, his other hand which wasn’t caught in his curls catching on your wrist and tugging you to him. You nodded and tried to paint a convincing smile on your face. His frown only deepened.

“Look, if its about what happened in the van… It’s fine. Like me and Jay said; this goes at your pace.. what you say goes..” John B murmured as he tugged you closer and let go of his hair before wrapping you up in his arms; face burying in your hair as he dropped a kiss to the crown of your head. You cuddled closer to him and breathed him in, he chuckled lightly- you knew he was right, but you felt almost guilty. You were the one who’d asked him for this, and then suddenly you didn’t want it. You head was a mess as he let you go.

“I’m going to grab a shower… and you are more than welcome to join, like Kie says we need to preserve the planet.. so we should conserve water and all..” He grinned and even gave you a cheeky wink as he stepped backwards in the direction of the bathroom, his fingers trailing down your arm until they were only touching the tips of your own as he stepped further away. You laughed, the joy bubbling in your belly as you pushed him away from you. He scoffed and held a hand to his chest in mock hurt, before shrugging and making his way to the bathroom. You waited until you could hear the shower running before booking it from the chateau and into the darkness. You didn’t hear him calling your name- he’d wandered into the main room and expected to see you on the pull out, but he was on his own, his apology falling into the loneliness of the chateau.

Your feet leading you to the Carrera’s place on auto-pilot, your mind focused on how the next conversation was going to go between you and Kie. You were still undecided as to whether or not you should admit to Pogue- on-Pogue-on-Pogue macking. You clambered up the handy tree outside her window and crawled through the open window, Kie waiting for you sat crossed legged on her bed. Mirroring her- you sat facing her and with one look at your face, she quirked one of her brows at you and waved a hand gesturing for you vent- and with that one motion, it all flooded from you like a river bursting its dam, words flying from your lips so quickly Kie’s head shook and her eyes widened as she tried to keep up.

“I’m doing something and I’m not sure it’s a good idea anymore. But I’m not sure I want to stop, but if I don’t someone could end up hurt..” You stated, hands waving in front of you as you spoke. “I’ve been hooking up.. or rather learning how to hook up with someone, or well two someone’s and I think I have feelings for them both and it’s a mess. But I don’t really want to stop… But then I kinda did today cause when it came time to actually hook upI freaked and told him to stop..”

“Did he? Stop?” She interrupted her hands clasping onto your own, and you froze- brows furrowing. But nodded.

“Of course he did.. its in the rules; at my pace. But I really want to have sex with him and the other guy… but I dunno, I guess I’m scared. Cause I don’t want to get hurt and I can’t bear to think about not having either one of them in my life if it works out with one of them and not the other.. I couldn’t lose either of them ever…” You rambled, barely breathing as the words spewed forth and Kie took them all in- a small smirk resting on her pretty face.

“So how long have you been fucking around with Jay and John B?” she asked, glancing at her nails, pretending to not be bothered. But you gasped, and tried to cover it with a cough.

“What makes you think its them?” You tried tom laugh it off, but the laugh came out nervously, and you may as well be carrying a sign telling her. She rolled her eyes and laughed.

“How long Y/N?” She asked again, not playing along with your bullshit. You sighed and tugged at your head, she shook her head and pulled you around like a rag doll until you sat with your back to her and he was able to get her hands in your hair and begin to braid it- her fingers twisting and turning your hair soothing you.

“Not long… but they’re them. And I can’t stop myself falling under their spell when they make me feel so good. And they’re treating me so well, they go at my pace and when I’m with them- it sounds cheesy, but I feel complete… But I don’t want to hurry anyone. I mean its not like if things work out we can all be together- and I can’t imagine the rest of my life without them in it…” You whispered out, Kie’s fingers tucking strand after strand of your hair around, seemingly being the key to ease you enough to stop your mouth running at the same speed as your mind.

“Who says you can’t? Have you spoken to them about this? Have you even asked them about it?” She asked you, her voice soft in your ear as she continued to braid.

“You’re right… They might not even be interested in me. Like they could just be doing this to help out a friend… so the only person who could get hurt is me… well fuck…” you whined the last part and shook your head, until Kie gave your tresses a sharp tug and tisked.

“Not what I meant, its obvious those boys would literally die for you. I don’t know when it happened- but I’m pretty sure they both love you or are even in love with you..” she stated matter-of-factly. “I meant who says you can’t be with both of them? Nothing has to change between you guys… I mean you’re practically together with them as it is!” She exclaimed, it was you turn to scoff at her- and she gripped your shoulders, making you turn to look at her over your shoulder.

You stayed silent and mulled over her words; and even you couldn’t deny there was some truth ringing through them, when all of this started, it had never been awkward as you imagined it could be, and the euphoria you felt when you were with them was undeniable. You let your mind wander; the boys treated you with the utmost respect. Each showing they cared in their own way. Your heart pattered unevenly as you imagined your life with them both, and maybe Kie had a point, maybe it wouldn’t be all that different to how things were currently? As you were lost in your own mind, Kie had finished twisting your hair into two braids and was tying them off with hair ties. You breathed in deeply, and nodded to yourself.

“So how come I stopped him? Like what if I’m not ready?” you whispered out, the Carrera girl smiled and tugged on one of your braids.

“You’re ready, when you’re ready. It’s up to you and you said yourself he respected that when you asked him to stop… and its in your rules. You set the pace remember?” Kie stated holding your hand in her own and squeezing gently. You bit your lip and smiled at her, before dropping a kiss to her cheek and thanking her as you made your way back out of her window and into the heavy rain. You’d made up your mind, you wanted John B and JJ. And you needed to show them that, you would start with John B. So you made your way back to the chateau- the rain soon soaking you as your walk-jog to his place seemed to last a lifetime. Streets passing in a blur as the rain trickled into your eyes. When you finally made your way to the chateau, you felt like you were in a cheesy romcom scene; running to admit your love for the main character- slowing your pace even more and letting the rain truly soak you, you tried the shake the cliché from yourself as you entered the ramshackle home- no knocking necessary as the door was never locked to any of you, this place was as much your home as his. And there he was sprawled on the pull out, scrolling mindlessly on his phone as the tv played in the background, beer abandoned on the floor beside him and a half eaten pizza accompanying it. When you barged through the door, he shot up- eyes wide as he took in your drenched form.

“Y/N.. what the..?” he started as you took steps towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your soggy self against him as your lips found his. The kiss wasn’t rushed, it was passionate- it had that familiar languid pace which as John B entirely. His hands found their way to your cheeks and he cradled your face between them, his plush lips caressing your own, as his breathing became more laboured as the kiss continued until he could take it no longer and reluctantly pulled away from your lips- your lips soon missing the pressure of his and went searching for them.

“Not that I’m complaining, like at all, but what the hell are you doing coming here in this weather?” he whispered, not trusting his voice just yet- as his forehead rest against your own. His breath fanning across your face, as you panted lightly.

“I needed to see you. I ditched you and ran away from you like a little bitch cause I was scared… But I’m not scared anymore and I want you.. I want you to teach me my next lesson!” You stated softly, surging forwards and meeting his lips with your own once more. Your tongue traced over his bottom lip seeking entrance- and that was when he pulled away again, making you sigh in frustration.

“Are you sure?” He asked, eyes searching your own as he held your face delicately between his large hands. You rolled your eyes but smiled at the same time.

“At my pace right? Well this is me setting the pace… so take me to your bedroom and teach me Routledge…” You whispered, staring into his dark gaze as his eyes widened slightly- his mouth dropping open slightly.

“Yes Ma’am…” He murmured against your lips as his hands dropped from your face to grip your own and lead you through the house- he stumbled slightly every couple of steps as he was not only walking backwards but also connected to your lips and with his eyes closed, it was a minor miracle you both made it to his room without serious injury- instead the journey was filled with giggles muffled by kisses. Once in his room, his kisses became more- tongues tangling and teeth nipping, bottom lips were sucked and breathing began to race as fast the hearts beating within your chests. Your hands wandered him; tracing over the muscles of his shoulders, his biceps, his chest- the pounding of his heart underneath your palm, his abs- stomach tensing and twitching at the ticklish contact before settling on his waist and pulling him closer- so the entirety of your soaked front was pressed against his shirtless one. Goose bumps raising on expanse of you both. His lips met the corner of yours before venturing downwards and meeting the sensitive flesh of your neck- leaving wet kisses, his tongue flicking out before his teeth nibbled into the skin making sure to leave a faint ache there as a mark was delivered. He let his hands drift to your hips and tugged on the drenched and borrowed t-shirt you were wearing- he struggled to pull it up your body, the sopping material clinging to every part of you- it getting stuck on your head and made the pair of you split from each other as you worked in tandem to rid you of the shirt. You both laughed victoriously as the offensive fabric was tossed carelessly across the room as far away from you as possible. John B brushed some of the baby hairs- which had fallen loose from your braids during the struggle- before his fingers dug their way through the tangled tresses and pulled your lips needily against his own. He began to move you backwards until the back of your knees met the soft edge od his bed- he leaned into you until you tumbled back, him following and landing atop you.

Your kisses travelled along his pouty lips and chiselled jaw to his tanned neck, gentle and tickling kisses being left there. His fingers traced along the edge of the bra covering you from him, tips dipping below a cup and teasing your already hardened nipples- smoothing over it before flicking at it- causing it to harden more, his clothed hips thrusting against you own as the needy whine left your throat. His finger traced lower the calloused pads tickling against your stomach making giggles erupt from you and vibrate against him. his hand cupping and rubbing against you clothed core- leaving you wondering whether your panties were wet from the rain or the arousal coursing through you. His deft fingers found the button and the zipper on your shorts- undoing them both and moving to wriggle the sodden material down your hips and thighs before being removed from you entirely. One of his skilled hands found its way to your cloth covered core and began teasing you through the material as his lips claimed your own once more. His fingers tracing up and down you still covered slit- moving to rub figure eights onto you clothed clit- eliciting the most delicious moan he’d ever heard from you, continuing their ministrations the tips of his other fingers tugged the saturated material to the side before they ventured within your drenched folds. At the contact a high pitched whine echoed around you. His lips left yours to nip at your chest, chin nudging the cup of your bra out of his way as his plush lips captured your hardened peak- laving it with attention, his hand left your core the slide behind you and undo the irritating fabric, pulling it from your body and taking his time to marvel at you.

His fingers swiftly returned to your hips, tugging on the band of your underwear and pulling them too from your body, leaving you completely bare before him- making you skin heat in a flush that made him groan and bury his head in your neck marking up your pretty skin. Trailing his lips further down until they met the skin just under your breast- he let his attentions focus there as he left a more prominent mark, which wouldn’t be easily hidden in your usual summer attire and activities. His fingers moved between your slick folds, doing the most sinful of things- building you up, winding the coil deep within you belly tighter and tighter- your release so close, but just out of reach making you whine out frustratedly. John B chuckled huskily as his lips found yours again, his tongue working it’s way in to your mouth once more, teasing yours in a similar fashion to that of his fingers. And as he plunged his middle and ring finger within your slick entrance and began pumping with purpose you felt yourself teeter over the edge and the knot within you snapped with a high pitched keen- which was muffled by his pouty lips. his fingers pumped within you lazily- coaxing you through your high, as you hand began to wander down the expanse of him once more. One palm grazing against the prominent bulge within the confines of his shorts- you rubbed against him as he huffed out air and moaned in your ear- as his head fell to your shoulder. His reaction to your hands movements spurring you to unbutton and unzip him; before reaching into the tight fabric and meeting the soft flesh beneath, pulling a gasp from you at his lack of underwear. He pulled your hand from him, before kissing you swiftly on the lips once more before moving himself from you and tugging his shorts from his body- leaving him bare before your greedy gaze. He sprang free- the russet tip leaking, the slit glistening in the low lighting of the dark room- it was silent, barring your panting breaths and pounding hearts. You reached a hand towards him once more, but his hands clasped onto your wrists before you could make contact.

“Are you sure? We can stop now if you like…” He asked, dark gaze locked on yours- eyes searching for a response, you just smiled and nodded your head before cradling his chin and pulling his kiss swollen lips towards your own in a gentle kiss. When you parted, he puffed out the breath he had been holding and turned to his bedside table, delving a hand within and retrieving the small foil packet. He held it up for you to see, and you reached forward and took it from his hand- holding it within your sweaty one. You ripped the packaging open and proceeded to pull the protection from its confines, before manoeuvring it to roll onto his awaiting member, rolling down his length and pumping him a couple of times before kissing his lips gently once more. you then moved to lay back on the bead- head resting against the pillows that smelled of him, your heart racing with anticipation as his fingers delved within you once more- gathering some of your slick and coating himself with it, letting his fingers linger and tease you for a short time before sliding himself up and ontop of you, his hips nestling between your spread legs, his weight being supported by one of his strong arms beside your head as the other hand laved your most intimate area with attention- his lips seeking your own in a searing kiss as he began to push into you. You hissed at the feeling, it wasn’t necessarily painful, but it was kind of uncomfortable- it was a strange feeling to be connected with him, as you felt full almost complete as he pushed further into you. His lips leaving your to pepper soft kisses around your face and neck, before he buried his head in the crook of your neck as he bottomed out within. He fought the urge to begin moving before you were ready, waiting for you to tilt your hips to urge him on. And once he had that confirmation, he pulled back agonisingly slowly before pushing back in at the same pace. He slid within you easily, your slick coating him, and your thighs as he moved at a languid pace.

Your moan loud in his ear as you became accustomed to surrounding him in the most intimate of ways, urging him to move faster- his hips surging forwards and retreating at a quicker pace as his own moans flooded the room. A giggle escaping you as you felt yourself succumb to the pleasure and dig your nails into the tan flesh of his back, leaving a white trail as you dragged them down before they met the curve of his ass. Your hands resting there and then grabbing a cheek in each hand and pushing him closer to you. John B got the message and whined out as his hips began a punishing rhythm, his hips slapping against your own- skin meeting skin and lips meeting lips as he climbed closer to his peak. He was reaching his end, but he knew you were nowhere near, and so he tried to hold himself back, but the warm, welcoming tightness encompassing him was too much, his rhythm faltered and his hips moved erratically as he reached the peak.

“Y/N..”was groaned sinfully in your ear as he emptied into the protection. You stroked your hands down his back and hair as he calmed from the high. His spent body collapsing atop your own. His weight a comfort as your calming touch tried to ease your racing hearts. All too soon he was sliding himself from you with a sickening squelching sound, he slide down your body and you leaned yourself up onto your elbows curiously as you watched him bury his head between your thighs, and as his tongue met your sensitive and slick flesh a gasp left your kiss-swollen lips. He licked along your lower lips. He then dove in- tongue tasting you- licking and caressing you the way his lips had done elsewhere. Your breathing becoming laboured at the sensations on your already stimulated core. He focused lips on your sensitive nub, lips closing around it and suckling gently making you whine. His lips and tongue worked you as if telling your core the most salacious secrets, you were reaching your end. The familiar tightening in your belly becoming almost too much to bear as your legs went numb, a truly sinful noise leaving your delicate lips- almost had him hardening at the sound. He let his tongue and lips clean you of your juices before his head reappeared from the depths of your thighs. His plush lips and chin glistening with the evidence of your orgasm. He wiped at his chin with he back of his hand- but left the slick on his lips as he met yours in a sordid kiss; letting you taste yourself on him, to him you were the sweetest nectar, and he wanted to share it with you. As your lazy kisses became pecks- he pushed himself away from you, moving around the room, he discarded of the used condom in the small trash bin near the door- before leaving the room, and as you watched his back move away from you. A panic settled within your chest- as your mind replayed the image of him walking away from you in your minds eye, until his smiling face re-entered the bedroom his hands holding a washcloth, which he used to clean you sensitive core properly. Before tossing it away into some unknown corner of the room- he then jumped onto the bouncy bed beside you and laid back. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders he tugged you to lay atop him, your ear pressed to his chest. And he kissed you gently; your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids, your nose, your jaw and then finally your lips. the kiss was soft- but was full of the emotions John B was bursting to tell you, but couldn’t, not yet. So for now the gentle kiss sufficed, as the two of your succumbed to a peaceful sleep.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

I wrote this the other idea. And then a thought happened.

Enjoy.

Gender Neutral Reader Insert

_____________________

“I’m going to take you out.”

You hum in response, pulling at the last part of the cardboard box. The tape snaps, a soft pfft echoing. You bought new curtains for the kitchen. It was premature given that the curtains would only really go once the backsplash was done and the cabinets repainted. Your delay for both of those was Calum. Though you had painted cabinets before while helping a friend move into their place, Calum insisted that the two of you be the ones that redid the kitchen. Not just you.

The project inevitably got delayed. Calum dragged his feet on nonessential things and with things slowly moving back to normal, he was busier than ever with the band. So you understood--that took priority over cosmetic changes to the house. And you know that you couldn’t nag him into doing anything. So you poked him in a different way, buying the kitchen curtains that would only sort of match with the rest of the kitchen. It wouldn’t bother him at first. It would take a couple of weeks before he sighed, pulled out his old t-shirts and the sandpaper and paint that you had already bought.

Calum hums in your ear. “What do you say? We dressed up fancy too.” He punctuates the end of his sentence with a kiss on your neck.

“Fancy? And go where?”

“Oh, that’s for you to decide.” He rests his chin on your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way his arms snake around your torso.

“When did you want to go? This evening?”

“No,” he says and then drags his lips up your skin. “Right now.”

You chuckle, though the end of it is interrupted by a sigh, the tingles running down your spine. “There’s nowhere fancy to go in the middle of the afternoon. And why fancy?”

“Because you have that outfit in the back of the closet and I think it’s time to break it out.”

You originally bought it for your anniversary with Calum two years ago. But the pandemic through a major wrench into the plan. That one passed and so did another and you weren’t sure when you’d be able to wear it ever. But couldn’t return it because you adored it too much.

His lips are hardly touching your skin, but you feel electric. “You know, we could just make this easy,” you return, pushing your hips back into his. “Besides, you said you were waiting on a call.”

His teeth nip at your skin and the heat of his breathe trails up to your ear. It doesn’t shock you when his tongue teases the shell of your ear, but it does make a warmth spread through your stomach. “I can take the call anywhere.”

“Then take it from the bedroom.”

Calum laughs before pulling away completely. “Oh, I absolutely could. But I want to take you out. Because I know this week I’ve been holed up with writing and you deserve more of my time. And we’re dressing up. And you’re going to think of the place right now.”

Without the pressure of his weight holding you to the counter and the warmth of his kisses, you can think a bit clearer. Somewhere fancy to go in the middle of the afternoon felt insane. You turn, using the completely deconstructed box as a shield. “You’re a dangerous man when you wanna be,” you tease.

He smiles, a bit of a blush taking over his cheeks as he leans into the counter next to you. He makes a show of holding his arms to his chest. “I can behave. When I wanna.”

“When you want is so important. But I don’t feel like I’m getting less time. I know this record’s taking some extra TLC.”

“And my darlin’ deserves some TLC too. So c’mon. It can be anywhere. We’re just getting fancy is all I’m asking.”

“The only thing I can think of is a museum? Contemporary Art?”

Gently taking one of your hands, Calum presses a chaste kiss to the back of it. “I’d be honored. I’ll hang these curtains and then get ready.”

“Thank you. I’ll take Duke out.”

He nods and watches you, eyes taking in the length of you. “And I know the curtains are you trying to get me moving faster about the rest of the kitchen.”

“The only thing about the kitchen I want to hear is if it’s on fire or if you’re planning a day to remodel it.”

Calum shakes his head with a hiccup of laughter coming from him. Of course, you would. Of course. He grabs the stepstool you keep between the fridge. It’s not long before he gets the curtains switched out--thankfully the ones you bought fit on the rod already installed. The scratch of Duke’s paws coming closer to the kitchen alert Calum that you’ve gotten back inside.

“What if we do the cabinets on Saturday?” he asks, hearing the fridge crack open. He shakes out some of the creases in the last curtain.

“I’ll be disturbing you bright and early then.”

“Sounds lovely,” he returns, stretching up just a little to get the first part of the curtain onto the rod. Just as he steps down, a cup settles onto the counter in front of him. Water by the looks of it in the glass and then your feet shuffle down the hardwood floors.

You and Calum manage to get finished at about the same time getting dressed. But it doesn’t get past you that a few buttons on his dress shirt are not all the way done as he moves to pass you to grab shoes from the closet. “Sir, I don’t know what you’re playing, but those few buttons are playing with fire,” you tease getting the last of your outfit into place.

“Look who’s talking,” he laughs but steps back over to you. “Hmm, everyone warned me about you.”

“Warned you about me?” This is the first time you’re earring of anyone having a problem with you.

He nods. “They told me I’d fall in love.” The rapid rate of your heart starts to slow.

“Well, did you?”

“Do you not see me dressed to the nines just to take you out? I am whipped.”

Cupping his jaw, you press several chaste kisses to his lips. “Good. I ordered our tickets--so we don’t have to wait in any line.”

“Ah, I knew I found a good one. Thank you.”

“Uh-huh. You’re welcome.”

With Calum’s shoes on, and the tickets saved on your phone, the two of you head out. The drive to the museum feels much too short--between you belting out the songs on the radio and the laughter--you’re not even thinking about the fact that you’re about to head to an art museum dressed like you’d go to an award show with Calum. You hadn’t been to many of those, opting at the beginning of your relationship to hang back from that world.

“Why do this?” you ask softly right as the songs change. The radio host advertises something, you’re not sure what, but you can hear their voice excited as they talk.

Calum takes a brief second to glance at you. “What do you mean? I thought I answered that.”

“No, no, you did. But I don’t know. I’m just shocked.”

It goes silent for a moment. You hear the soft squeal of the tires and you know Calum should’ve taken his car to the shop a month ago, but again, he dragged his feet on some things. But you don’t think to say anything, not now at least.

“You mentioned it,” Calum starts, turning his gaze away from the red light. “When we first started dating, you mentioned that you wanted to get dressed up one day and just go somewhere--it didn’t matter where. But you wanted to go on a date and get fancy and go to a random place in the middle of the afternoon like it was a movie. And I thought and I thought and I even asked the guys where to take you but none of them knew. And then I had this whole plan for our anniversary to get dressed up and go the park. But I got scared and changed it to dinner because I didn’t want to ruin your fantasy. We have lists of them and we make them up all the time. But this one mattered.”

“They all matter. That’s why we create them, that’s why we write them down.”

“But this one mattered to you. There are plenty that we do together. But this one mattered specifically to you and I knew I couldn’t just give up on it.”

Your mouth hangs open for a second and then the car lurches forward, you fall back into the cushion of the seat just a hair but then regain your balance. “You told me once that you missed when you and your sister would sneak these biscuits after dinner. And your mother always knew you two were doing it. So I bought some and put them on the highest shelf. Because that’s where your stash is and I never wanted you to run out so every couple of weeks I do a second trip to the grocery store to buy them. And I’m not sure when you realized I was buying them because at one point there were two and three packages on that shelf, which I knew meant you didn’t know I was buying them. But now there’s only ever the package that I buy.”

“I’ve known for months now, love. I didn’t say anything but honestly, I liked it. But I will admit I’m shocked you didn’t stop once you realized it.”

“I kept doing it because I wanted to give you a tiny piece of home. It’s crazy I know. But I try.”

“I am home. With you.”

“I know, but like your childhood. The things that no one really knows but you and what you’ve decided to share with me. I want to bring that to you.”

“Baby, I-I don’t need that. I appreciate it. I know you feeding me until I become round is your love language but I am more than satisfied to create new things with you.”

“Your trainer cancels out all my attempts. You, sir, will keep your toned abs and biceps for at least another twenty years.”

“Only twenty?”

You laugh, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek. “Once you marry me, baby, you’re getting happy weight and I won’t stop.” The sentiment is punctuated with a pat to his stomach. The only thing Calum can do is laugh.

“I look forward to it.”

“Oh, so you agree, you are going to marry me?”

Calum never thought he’d get here. Not pulling into the parking lot of a museum with the love of his life, dressed in clothes he only really reserved for the stage, a heartbeat away from admitting, “Yes. I am agreeing that I am going to marry you.”

The moment lingers for a beat, then two and Calum’s heart is racing because this isn’t how he had planned on asking. Shit, he thought he’d need another six months before he’d have the guts to even admit it to the boys. But right now, it just feels so right to admit. Your arms are winding around his neck and he’s leaning as far as his still buckled seatbelt will allow him. And you’re kissing him and he’s inhaling your laughter. And somehow the most backward-ass things feel the best.

“You-I need to get you a ring. I was going to do this all differently,” Calum rushes out, holding onto your cheeks. His head shakes, eyes wide. “I swear I was going to do this all differently.”

Your smile is blurry in his vision. But he hears your laughter. “I don’t need it any other way.”

You wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Now, can we please go look at the pretty art with my soon-to-be husband on my arm?”

“Of course.”

The air of the museum is cold and it chills you for a second but it’s coupled with the fact that Calum’s thumb is stroking the back of your hand. The two of you glance at each other, wide grins and giggles falling from your lips. It’s a wonder, as the two of you stroll through the museum. You in front, gravitating towards the brighter works and Calum follows, your pinkies hooked together to keep you two from getting too separated from each other.

All he can do is stare, watch you and your ever-shifting gaze. You float over the floor of the museum as if your feet could never really fully touch the ground. And he’s powerless to it, the following the visible string pulling him to you. At your pause, Calum slides up behind you. His hands settle at your hips first briefly before he catches himself. “Yes, Cal?”

“Nothing.”

You cock your head to the side and then ever so slightly push back against his hips. “Just as I suspected. A lot of something. Approximately several inches in length.”

Calum barely holds the howl of his laughter in before spinning you around. “Do not ever--”

“Or what?” you ask.

“You know I’m not going ever taking you out in public again.”

You take a glance to the left and right, before slipping your hand between your bodies. You palm his length through his dress pants. “Oh what a shame,” you state and then step away to a sculpture.

Calum exhales hard at the action and takes a moment to steel himself before following after you. The teasing continues on back and forth, him passing in front of you and feeling you over the material of your clothes, gently brushing his hands on the back of your neck.

Calum moves to another room and you watch him go for a minute before following behind him. The shivers of his still nibbles on his ears rocked you more than you anticipated. Sliding up behind him, you encase your arms around his torso. “You sir, are just begging for us to get kicked out.”

His small chuckle is interrupted by the buzz of his phone. Calum reaches into his pocket and sees the numbers. He glances around and slides to answer the call. “Calum speaking,” he whispers. You step away and point out a sign pointing to some restrooms. Calum smiles at you, kissing your forehead, and then heads over that way.

You wait in the same area, not wanting to go too far in case the call is quick. You take your time looking at each piece in the room. It feels long but then you can hear the clack of dress shoes on the floor and turn to the sound of it. Calum returns, his face a little pensive.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just--uh.”

“We can go if you need to. Is it work?”

“It’s just bullshit. Something bout a demo needing to be recorded. And I don’t--this is important to you. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“One more room and then we can go back home.”

He takes your hands. “If we do one more room, I won’t have time to take you back home. I’m sorry.”

“Well, our fridge magnet collection needs another one. And I don’t mind if you have to drive to the studio and then I’ll take an Uber or something back home.”

“Or you could stay with me?”

“I’m not about to make life harder. C’mon. We got a fridge magnet to obtain.”

The gift shop is hardly busy. Calum takes a second to text the guys that he’ll be over to the studio soon. It’s not hard for you to pick a magnet. But you look at the postcards, all the colors. “Grab a handful, love. I see you eyeing them.”

You pick up a few and then head to the register. Calum seems to be distracted by something, but you don’t think too much of it as you pay. Especially since he seems to slide up right behind you. At the front of the shop, Calum warns it’ll be a bit of a drive so you scurry to the restroom.

The sun’s brighter than you anticipated and you squint against the sun as you walk back out into the parking lot. As you slide into the truck, you toss the magnet and card onto the back seats, on the blanket Duke lays on. And then another small bag lands on your lap. “What’s this?”

Calum says nothing as he buckles in.

“Oh don’t get all silent on me. Don’t you fucking dare.” You turn the back upside down and a box lands into your lap. Your heart races and then you realize it’s too small to be a ring box though it could be the right size. “Calum,” you sigh and crack it open. A small enamel pin stares back up at you. You laugh.

“You got me good that time.”

“I’ll do one better when it’s an actual ring.”

“I like gold,” you tell him, taking his hand gently and kisses the back of it.

“Trust, I am well aware.”

[alderaani]

conceal don’t feel

Summary: Fox removes his helmet in front of Riyo for the first time, and she very much likes what she sees. | AO3 

Pairing: Foxiyo, no warnings.

A/N: I’m not even really sure where this came from, but it has been all my brain wanted to write for the past two days, so.......here she is.

Riyo knew what it was like to fall.

It was a rite of passage on Pantora to climb the cliffs outside the capital, the only high point disturbing the tarnished gleam of the marshlands for hundreds of miles. It usually took adolescents several tries to reach the top and Riyo had been no different, just one of many amongst the blue-and-purple sea of her peers. She’d been fifteen then, straddling the cusp of adulthood and desperate to prove herself. How funny, now, that she wanted to peel back a decade and tell that young girl to slow down, not rush, to cling on to her youth.

The day of her climbing she’d been so impatient, so sure that she would be among the first to reach the top. It had lasted as long as it took to leave the ground before all ambition had been wiped away, the world narrowing down to the tips of her fingers, the pads of her toes and the way she sought out crevices in which to place them. She wasn’t the first to fall, nor was she the last. The memory was sharp and clear, like the cold air near the top of the ridge, where the birds took flight from their nests and swirled, screaming, around their earthly intruders. She’d hesitated a beat too long, her fingers sliding on the slick rock, and then there had been the lurch of her stomach dropping out, the white noise of terror supernovaing inside her skull. The split second of free-fall, of feeling totally and utterly weightless, before gravity had set in. The sudden finality of the drop, of the way the air rushed through her horrifyingly empty fingers.

The ropes had caught her, of course, along with the eager, guiding hands of her friends, and before long she’d been stood on the peak, feeling the wind corral the backs of her legs and pull teasingly at her hair, victory surging in her gut. But the feeling had stayed with her - that long, eternal moment, like a drawn in breath.

It was the sort of thing most people didn’t experience twice. But now here she was, staring into Commander Fox’s face and stepping into free fall.

“Senator?” He was saying, his hands firm and solid on the curves of her shoulders. Her poncho had gone awry in the bomb blast that had shattered her windows and put the Senate into lockdown, and he pulled up the edges and tucked them round her almost absentmindedly. She shivered at the feeling of his gloved fingers brushing over her naked skin, despite the blunt efficiency of the touch.

“Senator Chuchi?” The commander repeated, his hands going tight. “Senator?”

When she didn’t reply, unable to do anything but stare, he released one of her shoulders in favour of putting his commlink to his mouth.

“I need a medic here stat. Think the Senator’s going into shock.”

That was enough for her to shake her head, feeling the scrape of her hair pieces against her scalp where they’d gone awry. Pulling some sort of composure together out of the rubble was harder, though she did her best seeing the worry in those brown eyes.

Was this always what he looked like under that helmet? Was there always so much feeling, fleeting and raw across his naked face? She was so used to having to parse out his emotions from the slant of his shoulders, the tight motions of his hands, the hard shape of his voice, that so much bare skin was almost overwhelming. 

“Sorry, Commander, I’m well,” she murmured. His eyes were a brown she’d seen literally a thousand times, but somehow were completely different. The full lashes, the little creases developing at the corners, the flecks of gold sitting bold at their centres. The hard, piercing gaze that was all Fox, breathtaking without his helmet in the way. It was almost worth the ruin her office had been turned into to have seen the strong line of his jaw, the soft streaks of grey hair developing at his temples. His lips looked chapped and raw, and a not-insignificant part of her wanted to touch them with her thumb. 

“Senator, you’ve been staring at me for five minutes,” Fox informed her flatly, voice deep and scratchy with a bass that the vocoder must usually filter out. “And - kriff, you’re bleeding.”

“What?” Riyo reached up to touch her face, then squeaked when Fox caught her wrist and reached into his utility belt for a tissue, which he used to dab at her hairline. There was a flash of pain as it came away dark, and the cold night air funnelling through the open window sharded against her bare skin, sending shivers wracking through her body.

“Oh,” she breathed, as Fox cursed and pressed the tissue back down. As he shifted she caught sight of a thin line of red beading on his cheekbone and tilted her head. “You’re bleeding too.”

“Just stay still, Senator,” Fox said, ignoring her comment in favour of glancing over his shoulder and shifting so that his body was between her and the door. His uncovered curls lifted as a fresh gust of wind blew in, his shoulders hunching. She saw him glance at his helmet more than once, resting by his feet with the visor shattered, and considered how odd this must be for him too as she let herself be manhandled away from the window to one of the plush green chairs in the corner, stained now and blackened with soot. 

“I’ve never seen your face before. It’s very nice,” she said before she could help it, fighting the urge to clap her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, or to phrase it like he’d picked it at a store. 

Usually she was so careful around the Commander, so choosy with what she said. Riyo had learned early on that blunter commentary would make Fox withdraw, turning him back into a professional pillar of plastoid and paint. Too many nights of him leading her escort back to her apartment had gone by in silence before she’d mastered the knack of weedling him into polite conversation, like luring a baby loth-cat into the open. 

She liked him - liked the way the harsh things seemed to roll impassively off his back, the way he turned to stone should anyone cross him or his brothers, the plainness of his feelings when you knew how to look. She didn’t know why she’d felt so compelled to learn his tells, and he hadn’t invited her in as much as she’d bothered to knock. Commenting on his face, bared without permission, felt much more like picking the lock and forcing entry to the tight facade he so carefully maintained.

It seemed to be a night for surprises, though. Fox just tilted his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You’ve seen several of the Guard, before, yes?”

Riyo nodded, then winced as it sent pain skittering down her neck. Fox noticed, of course, and moved one hand to support the base of her skull while he continued to press down on the wound. Now that he’d mentioned it she could feel the blood trails tickling as they dried down her cheek. 

“Then you have seen my face, Senator. I got the standard GAR issue, same as everyone else.”

She shook her head before she could think better of it, and realised suddenly that she was trembling, shivers wracking up her arms. Perhaps the Commander was onto something with his assertion of shock. 

“Now that’s not true at all,” she murmured, aware that she was setting herself up for another fall but unable to stop the words tumbling out. “Now that I know it, I’d recognise yours anywhere, Fox.” 

His brow crinkled, concern burning bright in those pretty eyes, and she realised, distantly and unable to care much, that she’d never called him by name before. Not without ‘Commander’ attached, at least. He raised his commlink again. 

“What the Sith-hells is taking so long, Oops? Get your shebs up to level fifty now,” he hissed, then pressed down firmly when she shifted again. “Please stay still.” 

“I’m cold,” Riyo said quietly, closing her eyes briefly until Fox made a low sound and shook her, just a little. 

“Come on Senator, keep talking to me. Are you sure there’s no medkit in here?” He asked.

Riyo gestured at the still-smouldering remains of her desk. “There was one in the third draw down.” 

Fox cursed, soft and sharp, and despite the cold and the way her head was swimming, it made her giggle. 

“Sorry Commander,” Came a panting, tinny voice. “I’m in the stairwell now, moving to your location. It’s chaos down here, ‘m gettin’ run over by half the karking Senate.” 

“Tell him corridor 847 is always empty,” Riyo murmured. “The maintenance tunnel half way down pops out just opposite my aide’s office.” 

Fox raised an eyebrow but dutifully relayed the message, getting a laugh and an affirmative from the medic on the other end. 

“Don’t give me that look,” she said, instantly regretting it when Fox’s expression shuttered. “No - I mean - you can laugh. I suppose it’s silly, but sometimes it’s the only way to avoid Senator Bronn. I climb in there with a datapad and pretend I’m out until he leaves. Courageous of me, isn’t it?” 

Fox’s forehead creased. “Is he giving you trouble?”

Riyo laughed weakly. “No, no, it’s very kind of you to worry, Commander. He just likes to talk too much and orders the worst food - some sort of delicacy from his home, I think, but they taste awful. And it would cause offence to refuse.”

There was a short pause before Fox’s lips stretched into a small grin, his head ducking as if to hide it from view. 

“So you hide in the maintenance halls?”

Riyo couldn’t help the answering smile that burst onto her face, even as her cheeks went hot. Their gazes met, and the jolt that ran through her was electric before she forced herself to look away. She swallowed thickly. 

“I’ve never liked confrontation,” she shrugged. “So where I can, I avoid it. Perhaps not the best trait in a Senator.”

Where Fox’s hand still cupped the back of her neck she felt the gentlest pressure, the quick sweep of a thumb against the dip of her spine. 

“Seems like we could sometimes do with more of that to me,” he said, voice soft but still amused. At this distance she could see the light stubble on his cheeks, a small scar on the bridge of his nose that had paled with time, the deep purple shadows ringing his eyes. 

Riyo stilled, lost again in the thrill of every little detail, and still hadn’t responded by the time they heard a thump and a yelp from outside the door. Fox rolled his eyes, but she could see the tension drain out of his shoulders.

“That’ll be Oops.” 

She smiled. “A promising name.”

Fox smirked. “He’s one of our best, Senator. I’ll let him in.” 

The cold rushed back in from the moment he let her go, but she could almost still feel the imprint of his hand on her skin, the weight of his eyes on her. Fox stood from where he’d been kneeling next to the chair, then turned to go to the blast door.

Riyo cleared her throat.

“Commander Fox?” 

He turned, the emergency lights slanting red over the bridge of his nose. 

“I meant it - what I said. You do have a pretty face. And I’d recognise it anywhere, GAR standard issue or not.” 

It seemed awfully important that he know, right now, before this moment ended, even though she couldn’t articulate why. She had to let him know that it mattered; that for however little it was worth, considering what she was and what the system she was part of made him do, she could see him. 

“I think that may be your head wound talking, Senator. But...thank you.”

He raised his hand towards the control panel, his head ducked, but as he pressed a button and the lights went green, Riyo could see the shy, bashful smile forming on his lips. 

She could only hope that he’d deem her worthy of that great privilege again.

taglist: @simping-for-fives @leias-left-hair-bun @nelba @iscream4clones @dom-i-nic @battletales | list here

[vannahfanfics]

New Possibilities

Category: Romance, Friendship

Fandom: Noragami

Characters: Hiyori Iki, Yato, Yukiné

Hiyori’s eyebrows were scrunched tightly together, forming a deep furrow in the middle of her brow. Her rose-colored eyes stared intently at the letter she held in her hands, addressed to her in neat, printed letters. The addressee was a sticker with “University of Tokyo College of Clinical Medicine” printed in bold, black letters over the circular orange-and-blue logo. Here in her hands, she held her destiny—the decision on her admittance or rejection from the top medical school in Japan. 

As her fingers began to shake, she squeezed her eyes shut so she could force herself to breathe deeply in and out. There was no time to be nervous! If she got to in her head, she wouldn’t be able to open the letter! She squashed the feeling of nausea rising in her stomach before snapping her eyes open, rose irises burning with determination. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, she flipped the envelope around so she could tear open the top, careful not to accidentally rip the letter in the process. She let the envelope flutter to the floor after removing the folded piece of paper inside. She gulped while she stared at the blank white backside, nervousness rising once more inside her. With trembling fingers, she slowly straightened out the paper and skipped down to the first line of words printed on the fancy letterhead. 

“Dear Miss Iki, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted…”  

Hiyori didn’t even finish the sentence, for a squeal burst out of her mouth, unable to be contained. She threw her arms in the air and began to jump around her room, delighted cries of “Yes, yes, yes!” gushing from her overjoyed body. She was going to medical school, the best medical school! She was going to be a doctor! 

She stopped hopping around to snap her face back to the letter, reading it once, twice, three times to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming. No, there it was in black and white—Hiyori was accepted. Tears blossomed in the corners of her eyes, and she didn’t even bother to wipe them away, just let them roll down her cheeks. This was one of the happiest days of her life, so a few happy tears were definitely in order. 

She hugged the letter to her chest, and the sound of the paper crinkling was music to her ears. 

I can’t wait to tell Yato!

~~~~~~~~~~

 Of course, societal norms dictated that Hiyori phone her parents first, which she did. Both of them were working, but they both screamed in triumph when Hiyori delivered the good news. They laughed, they cried, they gushed about Hiyori’s new possibilities, and Hiyori basked in the warm glow of their pride. However, the world did not stop turning even for such a celebratory cause, and so Hiyori eventually had to bid them adieu. That was all right, though; they would have a proper party once they returned home from work, and this gave Hiyori plenty of time to spread the news to the other important people in her life. 

Kofuku was sitting on the porch of her little shop when Hiyori came running up, cheeks pink from breathlessness. The goddess cocked her head to the side as the girl approached in such a tizzy, and then her gaze dropped to the opened letter flapping around in her hand. 

“Ahh! Hiyori, is it today?” the girl cried and jumped up while putting her hands together in delight. “Oh, oh, you probably want to tell Yato first—he’s in the back! Yukiné went down the street to get some bubble teas, so I’ll let him know as soon as he’s back to come see you! Now hurry, hurry! Daikoku and I want to hear, too!” 

“Thanks, Kofuku!” Hiyori grinned as she skirted around the porch, leaving the goddess to impatiently squirm while she trotted around the back of the small convenience store. She rounded the back of the building to the small yard behind, and she found Yato lazing about among the roots of a tree, eyes closed and hands resting behind his head. 

“Yato, Yato!” she cried, and he cracked a cyan eye open at the sound of her voice. She came bounding up to him, eyes sparkling. However, her legs finally gave out from all the frantic running, and so she collapsed on her knees at his side. “Oof…” 

‘“Did you run all the way here?” he chuckled as he sat up. Hiyori nodded with a mournful croon and rubbed her burning calves, prompting Yato to laugh. “Silly Hiyori, I know you love to see me, but—” he stopped his flirty joke when he caught sight of the letter in her lap. “... Is that what I think it is?” 

“Yes!” Hiyori squeezed out between gulps of air. She tossed her head up, flipping her disarrayed hair out of her face, and held up the letter proudly. “I was accepted to Tokyo University! I’m going to be a doctor, Yato!” 

It seemed to take him a moment to register the news. He blinked slowly, staring at the letter with a blank expression. Hiyori tilted her head to the side in confusion; wasn’t he happy for her? Just as she was about to inquire, his expression softened and he reached up to pat Hiyori’s head affectionately. 

“I knew you could do it, Hiyori. Congratulations,” he said with a sweet smile. Hiyori giggled as he ruffled her already wind-swept hair; his hand felt good, tousling the strands and running across her scalp. She enjoyed it for a second, then opened her eyes. Yato couldn’t wipe the sadness from his expression before Hiyori noticed it. He knew she saw, too, as he blushed and dropped his gaze to the grassy ground. His hand stayed atop her head, and Hiyori reached up to grab it while staring at him in confusion. 

“Yato… What is it?” 

He chewed on his lip while he debated answering. Hiyori lowered his hand to hold it in front of her chest, squeezing it with both of hers. Finally, his eyes flickered up to meet hers, and she was taken aback by how guilty and miserable he looked. 

“I shouldn’t… It’s selfish of me.” 

“Well, you can be a little selfish, Yato. I don’t mind.” 

A smile tugged at his lips, and he looked at her with amused hopelessness. I can’t resist when you say it like that, his expression said, and it made Hiyori’s heart thump in her chest. 

“I guess… It’s just finally hitting me that you’ll be leaving me, Hiyori.” 

“Huh? Who said I was leaving?” Hiyori blinked. Yato made a choking sound and reared back a little, obviously surprised by her blatant rebuttal. Hiyori smiled, pulling his hand to rest over her heart. “Yato, you’re the most important person in the world to me. Even if I’m going off to college, that doesn’t mean that we can’t be together anymore!” 

“You mean… You see me in your future, Hiyori?” 

Hiyori opened her eyes at that, a blush painting her cheeks. Yato was leaning forward now, his expression intense. Those cyan eyes burned with something unlike she’d ever seen, and it sent electricity buzzing through her nerves. Though she had the urge to run and hide, embarrassed by what was happening, she also wanted nothing more than to see where this would go. Squirming, she managed a little nod. 

“O-of course, Yato…” 

Of course, Yato was never surprised for long. That cocksure smirk spread over his lips, and as he leaned in a little further, a mischievous twinkle began to gleam in his bright blueish eyes. 

“Oh? What do you think about?” 

“I-I think about… You being there when I graduate…” she admitted. Oh, but that wasn’t all, and Yato knew it, too. It was like that roguish stare of his was magic, and it was pulling out all her deepest, darkest secrets with effortless ease. “I, um… I think about… U-us dating, and um… Getting married… And… Maybe… Having children…” 

Her voice grew smaller and smaller with each damning admission until she was shrinking into herself and whispering meekly. She hid her face behind his hand, which she was still holding like a treasure, while she looked at him with uncertain eyes. Yato just kept that same stupid smirk on his face the entire time, given no indication of how he felt about it. Anxiety began to roil in her belly. What if he would laugh at her? What if he didn’t feel the same? Yato was a trickster, but he wouldn’t be this mean, would he? 

No. Not my Yato.

“I’m relieved,” Yato said, and suddenly his expression was melting. He scooted a little closer to her, and his free hand pushed into the grass by her waist as he angled his body over hers until she was looking up into his face. He freed his other hand from her grip so he could caress her face—tracing a path down her cheek to her chin until his thumb traced the border of her lips. “I think about those things, too, Hiyori. I didn’t want them to be just thoughts.” 

“Yato… Are you saying…?” she asked quietly, but her voice failed her. She just looked at him pleadingly, and Yato’s smile somehow got impossibly softer even though it already felt like Hiyori was beginning to float in the clouds. 

“I’m saying that I love you, Hiyori, and I want to be a part of your future if you’ll let me,” Yato said. 

Hiyori sucked in a breath, and suddenly the tears came flooding back. She couldn’t stop them; she was so overwhelmed with happiness and relief and all the emotions in between. All she could do was nod emphatically. Yato chuckled gently, using his hand to thumb her tears away until she managed to quiet down into little sniffles. As she blinked repeatedly, trying to dislodge the little salty droplets still clinging to her lashes, she didn’t notice Yato’s face closing in. 

His lips met hers, and the first thing that struck her was how soft his lips were. They were like silk, perfect against her own. Hiyori melted into him, eyes fluttering as she savored the meeting of their mouths and everything that meant. 

They pulled apart, but only by a few centimeters. They stared into each other’s eyes, and Yato began to caress her cheek again. I could get used to this…

“Hiyoriiiiiiii!” came a sudden wail, and the two of them sprang apart like they’d been struck. They hurried to find a position that made it look like they weren’t just kissing. Yato lounged back against the tree, while Hiyori sat on her knees an acceptable distance away while she played with one of her pigtails. Yukiné came bounded around the side of the building, looking panicked. 

“Hiyori! Don’t go!” the boy wailed and flung himself across the yard. Hiyori exclaimed as he belly-flopped onto the ground next to her and planted his face write into her lap. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist as if he could keep her there through force alone. Hiyori chuckled and rested a hand on his back, and he looked up at her petulantly. 

“Yukiné, I’m not going anywhere,” Hiyori chuckled. “I’ll still be around!” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise!” Hiyori reassured. Yukiné smiled and sagged into her, thoroughly relieved. 

“Oi! Who do you think you are, hogging Hiyori?” Yato whined. Hiyori exclaimed as Yato draped himself over her shoulders, arms dangling down by her sides and chin propped in the crook of her neck. 

“Ah! Are we doing group hugs?” they heard Kofuku yell, and they looked up just in time to see her sailing through the air. They all screamed when Kofuku crashed into them, sending Yato and Hiyori onto their backs. As they dog-piled at the base of the tree, they couldn’t help but burst into giggles. Hiyori wiggled her arm until she could pull out the acceptance letter, and her expression brightened. 

I’ve got a great future ahead of me… And I’m glad everyone is going to be in it!

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[chenlelesdream]

— bulleted!NCT DREAM members comforting you when you’re down

Mark

ok so i feel like mark is jus they type to be good at listening to anyones problems

so he’s jus sittin there and listening to you rant or yk just be there while you let it all out

hes also jus SO HUGGABLE !1?1?1?

lets gosh he’s so cute and you jus wanna hug him becAuSe whO wouLdnT wanT thAt

so you do hug him and he juS UGH HUGS YOU

and mind you... It’s so comforting?

idk why but i feel like he’d smell rlly sweet oK moVinG oN

i feel like if you’re crying while hugging him he’d be the type to be caressing your head

“It’s ok i’m here everything’s gonna be okay”

SOMEONE TELL ME HOW TO NOT SIMP FOR MORKLEE?

imagine if he also sings “because i love you” with his guitar or humming it to make you feel better tHats SoCuTe oHmYgosh

and when you’re all better he jus suggest to cuddle cuz deep down he’s tired but he’s never too tired for you

there’s jus really chill music in the bg while you enjoy each others warmth

WHEN HE LAUGHS WHILE YOU’RE TALKING WHILE CUDDLING ITS JUS THE BEST MEDICINE I SWEAR

Renjun

i had a little help from @y0ngs95candy

can i just say i get softboyfriend!renjun vibes?

ok so i feel like renjun would be doing sum artsy stuff while chilling with you

painting together UGH OMG CUTE

but then he notices how awfully quiet you are

then he looks at you tryna figure out what’s wrong and what’s going thru ur head

then when you do look back he gives you that :] smile of his

AND YOU JUS BURST AND TELL HIM EVERYTHING THATS GOING ON

I honestly think renjun would just be the type to listen while looking down and nod

NOT LOOKING DOWN IN A BAD WAY BEFORE Y’ALL COME AT ME

like he’s probs jus intently listening to you

then after he jus scoots towards you and hugs you and tucks your hair behind your ear

and you jus sit in such comfortable silence

then he jus gets your hand and interlocks it with his and his thumb caresses the back of your hand making your heart bUrSt

then after a while you just look up at him and he just gives you his :] smile again and you just laugh

which makes him laugh so the mood just becomes even lighter

then to make you feel better he asks “Can I sing you a song?”

And you nod because you just love hearing his voice uH who doesnT?

but to your surprise he sings....

“WAE NEONUN NAREUL MANNASEO”

and you both just burst out laughing

but after that the atmosphere goes back and you both jus go back to hugging

and he hums “My Everything” by NCT U and you just sigh because it’s so calming

Jeno

Idk why but I get the vibes you guys jus walk late a night together hand in hand

so you guys were jus casually walking and your head was down the whole time

then jeno obvs notices because you’re usually talking about how your day went

so he squeezes your hand and smiles

“hey babe i know a convenience store nearby”

so he dragged you there and made you a full convenience store meal (ramen with your fave sides)

then you ate together in the tables outside

“I hope it makes you feel better” ( ◠‿◠ )

I swear his smile is so cute oHmYgOsh uR heart always jus BOOMBOOMBOOM

and there and then you just opened up

but deep down you felt better bec he made sure that you were always comfortable first

then after he jus listened and caressed your cheek and you jus closed your eyes and enjoyed his touch

after he took your hand and brought you to a mini claw machine and tried his best to win you a mini stuffed toy

Which he did and he was PROUD that jus was jus jumping around happily

then you just continued walking hand in hand and you kissed his cheek as a thank u

and his eye jus went wide while his ears turned red and he jus look at you back and forth while touching his cheek

Haechan

for this gamer!hyuck jus popped into my head

so he’s gaming and you were kinda down and unlike with the other members scenario you are clingy af with hyuck

so when you were down you decided to slip into his arms and sit on his lap

Because you jus love the comforts of his hugs especially during these times

he doesn’t push you away instead he kisses your temple and says “hey baby”

and even though he was playing his warmth and hugs jus made you feel so safe that you broke down

then he felt the tears on his shoulder and neck and his heart jus broke

he immediately paused his game and started caressing your back

you could hear the members yelling through his earphones asking why he paused but at that moment he jus cared about you

he showered you in kisses and pulled you away from his chest to wipe your tears and to tuck your hair behind your ear

then he jus connected your heads anD you couLdnT hElp bUt smiLe CUZ UGH HES AMAZING

then he asked you what was wrong and you jus told him everything

he then quit his game and carried you onto the bed and immediately cuddled you

you jus listened to him humming and you were engulfed by his warmth

and you jus fell asleep in his arms

IM SORRY THAT WAS SO CUTE UGH GDMI HAECHAN

Jaemin

i feel as though jaemin came over to grill sum bbq because he was craving it and wanted to eat it with you

so as he was cooking the meat he realized you were jus poking at your food

at first he asked if his cooking sucked you jus shook you head no

“If my baby doesn’t eat then I’m gonna be sad and we don’t want that..”

but then before he could continue he realized you were really down

so he turned off the electric grill and sat down beside you

“Why is my baby sad” he said as he cupped your face in his hands

and then the tears started to appear in your eyes

and he immediately wiped it dragging you out of the kitchen to the living room

he then went to grab a blanket from the room and put it over both your shoulders

and just let you lean your head on his shoulder

he took your hand and intertwined it with his

and you took a deep breath and jus let it all out

these were rare moments where jaemin would actually be serious and listened to you

once you finished you both jus sat there in comfortable silence

until he stood up and you gave him a look that screamed WhAt wHere Are yOu gOinG?1!1?

he jus smiled and came back with your bag full of skin care supplies wearing his bunny facewash headband

“WE’RE GONNA MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER WITH SKINCARE NIGHT”

and then you both just laughed and sat there doing each others masks and skincare

Chenle

Chenle really loves daegal so we shall include Daegal here

so you visited chenle’s apartment because you knew being around him always made you feel better

you both played with daegal until he noticed something off about you

you were’t really being obvs but he jus knows

then he jus gets up and sits beside you putting his head on your shoulder

and you both jus sat there holding daegal until he chose to run away

that’s when it was so silent and chenle jus goes fine fine if you won’t tell me that’s ok

Then he turns away fake crying and after pretending to be asleep

then you were laughing so hard until you finally decided

BOOM you open up

at that moment chenle gets up to sit on the couch and places your head on his lap while he plays with your hair while listening

and even if you’re letting everything out your heart was jus meLtiNg

then he jus listening and understood you

afterwards he jus put you on his lap your back facing him

and hugged you while placing his chin in your shoulder and started singing your fave song

you both jus sat there in his living room both wrapped around under one blanket with chenle’s voice filling the room

Then daegal felt left out and decided to run up and sit on your lap

after struggling to get up the couch

Jisung

I feel like he would’ve called you outta nowhere saying to open your door because he has something to show you

so at first when you open the door looking all down and something

i don’t think he notices

he’ll jus continue to be showing you all happy and excited

and ngl that lowkey made you feel better cuz he looks so proud and cute

so when he finishes you let him inside

and while walking in he’s like asking you all questions like

“Hey babe what did you do today..”

“Hey babe what did you eat today..”

“Hey babe....”

and after a few questions he realizes you seem really off

and he has a look of realization and jus

“Are you okay?”

and you nod yes because you didn’t want him to worry

but he’s like

“AniYa aniYa” and walks to the couch and jus signals you to go to him with his *im tryna be helpful and serious face*

and you laugh and while you walk there he welcomes you with open arms and you jus open up to him and he gave you the cutest reactions

“AH JINJA?” “Omo omo”

and those little things jus helped you feel better

afterwards you jus suggested to watch a movie together to make you feel better

then he jus tried to cheer you up by being all cute but he kept scolding himself

so you jus stood up and hugged him and gave him a peck and he jus turned red

after you jus hugged while watching the movie and him questioning everything happening on the screen

[cosmiceverafter]

My @malexsanta Secret Santa gift for @gra-sonas 🎁🎄 I was thrilled to give you a Malex gift this year. You're one of my absolute favorites and such a dear friend. You wanted all the holiday cheer: Christmas ornaments, cookie recipe, market, and FLUFF! I hope this domestic fic truly delivers, brings joy to your holiday season, and fills your heart with warmth during the hiatus. I love you, hun! Xoxo.  ❤️️💚

(PS: there's a little surprise in this fic, just for you, inspired by you)

***

Christmas Cookies & Holiday Hearts 

"You know, this will be our first Christmas together. Officially." 

As Michael says the words, Alex glances over at him, and his heart skips a beat. How is it that his alien still manages to take his breath away after so much time? 

Alex smiles and gradually runs his fingertips up and down Michael's strong arm, feeling the smooth skin there. "You're right, even though I know you've tried to get me under a mistletoe for years." 

"I mean, yeah...." Michael beams. His tan shoulders shrug as he kisses Alex's chest softly, "You aren't wrong, babe. Who could deny those luscious lips?" 

Michael's fingers slowly trail up Alex's chest, which currently has imprints of his lover's glowing handprints left lovingly due to their intimacy with each other.

When he sees them, Alex knows with certainty that their love can move mountains and is capable of expanding through galaxies. 

As Alex feels the calluses of Michael's hands on his body and now his lips, he closes his eyes to embrace the effect it manages to bring. It's as if a spark of electricity courses through his veins and ignites his soul. That's the only way he can explain it. 

Nothing ever compares to this—what they have together in these silent moments. Alex will always cherish this peace with his loved one. 

After a moment of soft loving caresses, Michael's smile disappears. Alex knows he's traveling deeper into that intelligent mind of his, the way he always seems to do these days. "But here's the thing, I want it to be special, meaningful. Christmases were never something to be excited about for me, you know? Just another shitty day."

Alex holds his breath but nods. Unfortunately, he knows precisely what Michael means. Though different, the events of their past, parallel each other in many forms worth forgetting. Alex's upbringing was painful in its way. Still, Alex wishes Michael, his sweet, brilliant alien, could have been spared the misery. 

All Michael Guerin has ever wanted was a home, to feel like he belongs on this planet, and Alex wants to spend the rest of his life giving him precisely that. 

"So, you've never done anything memorable during the holiday season? Not once?"

Michael raises an eyebrow as if to announce come on, but then he suddenly laughs as a memory resurfaces, "Well...there was that one time Sanders and I attempted to bake Christmas cookies for his customers." 

Alex smirks as he imagines how that scene played out. A younger Michael Guerin, who was in-and-out of the foster system, and the older man with one good eye, baking in a small trailer. "And uh, how did that turn out?" Even though he can take a wild guess.

Michael shakes his head as his golden curls bounce and sway. He holds up his arm, "Badly, I have a battle scar from the process."

There is a slight white mark on the inside of Michael's arm, which looks a bit like a four-leaf clover. Alex has always wondered about it. "Damn, and here I thought that was a lucky birthmark."

"Darlin', the only good luck charm in my life is you. Never forget that." Alex feels his heart flutter in his chest at Michael's words, and Michael gently kisses Alex's forehead. But before Alex can return the sentiment, his love continues, "But yeah, Sanders' oven was old as hell at the time, and I guess no one taught me not to stick my whole damn arm right on the rack. Sanders felt awful about it. Poor guy." 

"Were the cookies at least good?"

There's a sparkle in Michael's eyes as he says, "You know what? They were. I need to find that damn recipe—it has to be somewhere. Then maybe I can take the old man one, even though you are the better baker." His fingers lace together with Alex's, and Alex gives him a loving squeeze. 

"You're right, I am," Alex smirks as he wiggles his eyebrows. "But I would be happy to help you. Sanders would seriously love that!" 

Alex looks down at their hands still together. He is so happy that Michael now spends so much time with Walt. It is not a boss-employee type of relationship, but more of a familial one. After everything they had both been through, this progression felt natural. And if he's honest, Alex loves seeing Michael finally opening up to others, the way he does with Alex. 

Michael nods and grins, "Done." His caramel eyes gaze at Alex, and he turns over to his side. "But I want new memories, too. Truthfully, besides the cookie disaster, I've never had anyone to share the holidays with."

Again, Alex knows all too deeply what he means, "I know the feeling, my love. I've always admired Christmas from a distance, and it seemed...well, always on the outside looking in." He squeezes Michael's hand tightly through the sheets once more, "I'm thankful to have you by my side. We're both on this journey together." 

"Baby, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather share the memories with." Michael brings the back of Alex's hand to his lips, "Always and forever." 

****

The next day, Alex and Michael decide to go Christmas shopping for their friends, who were more like their found family at this point. 

Roswell had turned festive overnight, and it warms Alex's heart as if he were sitting by the crackling embers. 

Truthfully, he loves the magic that comes with Christmas: The twinkling lights aglow; the cheerful, upbeat, and often, repetitive music; the smiling faces of those who don't wait till the last minute to shop; the smell of cinnamon sugar baked goods; and the falling snow—when they were lucky enough to get some. 

For the first time, Roswell has even set up a Christmas Market like the ones you'd see in Europe. Alex's desert town has turned into a quaint storybook village.

Somebody has strung up multicolored lights between the small buildings, with brightly colored booths, side-by-side. There are reindeer attached to strings high up in the air, and a magnificent tall Christmas tree is sparkling within the town square. Above the tree is a halo of orange lights, symbolizing their golden desert sun. 

It brightens both their spirits to witness the magic created. As Alex and Michael walk around, they hear the soft holiday music surrounding them, which only rekindles their melody passion. 

They travel to each booth as they look for treasures to buy for their loved ones. Alex also keeps his eyes open for something unique he can get his Michael, but nothing quite captures his glance. 

"Look at this!" Michael calls in the distance. He's standing in front of a lovely booth with peppermint designs on the awning and dangling glimmering white lights.

Alex sees what Michael is holding—it's a beautiful guitar ornament. Painted on the guitar are swirls of green, blue, and black, sparkled with stars symbolizing the night sky. 

"Wow..." he says in response. "It's breathtaking."

Michael winks and bumps his shoulder lightly into Alex's, "Pretty cosmic, eh?"

"I'll say," Alex agrees as his grin widens. 

"It was clearly made for us," Michael acknowledges as he wraps a strong arm around Alex's waist, "I think it would be the perfect ornament for our first tree together." 

Alex kisses Michael softly on the lips, "I couldn't agree more, my love." 

****

"So, you have no idea what you're getting him?" 

Michael looks over at Isobel feeling exhausted, not at all how he felt when shopping with Alex, "Obviously not, that's why we're here, Iz." 

"Michael, Christmas is less than one week away, and we're sitting in some random store, shopping for the love of your life, and you don't have a clue about a special gift for him?" 

"Yup, that sounds about right."

Isobel shakes her lengthy blond hair back-and-forth. "Have I taught you nothing over the years?"

Michael groans, "Remind me again why I asked you to come with me?" 

His alien sis just shrugs, "Because I'm brilliant, and it's obvious you need me. I would even add the word 'desperately.'"  

"No...I don't recall that being the reason," Michael teases as he slings his arm lovingly over her shoulders. "You just love this stuff." 

"You're right, I do. It's the best holiday these humans celebrate!" They both laugh, but Isobel kisses his cheek, "Listen, deep down somewhere underneath that dirty white tee of yours, you've gotta have an inkling of what you want to get him." 

Well, if he had a clue, he would know it, wouldn't he? 

But then Michael freezes as he sees something across the store, "Um, wow...that was fast, but you're right, I do."

 Isobel pops a hip out, "Told you so." 

"Yeah, the only problem is I'm not sure how he'll react to it." 

Isobel smiles genuinely, "You know your man; you always have. Go with your instinct, Michael. I mean, word around this town is that they call you a genius or something." She gives him a look as she ruffles up his curls. "But pull away from that mind for once and go with that heart of yours. I, for one, know it's a pretty damn good one." 

Michael snickers but truthfully feels loved, "You could write a self-help book, you know that?"

She winks and bites her red-stained lip, "Who says I haven't already?"

"Give your brother a signed copy. He'll appreciate it." 

"As if," Isobel rolls her eyes, "You know Max wouldn't read it. That poor miserable fool who I love dearly." She pauses but adds, "So, Mr. Guerin, what'll it be? You going to listen to your heart?"

Michael narrows his eyes at the prize. Already knowing the answer to her question, he decides to let his heart follow the lead.  

****

"A little to the left, babe!" Michael calls out to Alex as they attempt to fit the oversized tree through the cabin door. "Darlin', my left." 

They spent the evening looking for the perfect tree, as it was their official first Christmas together. However, they ended up going with a taller sparse, and lopsided pine because, truthfully, life wasn't perfect, and neither were they. 

Life is what you make it, and Michael is confident they can make this tree as bright as his heart feels when he's around Alex.   

"There, perfect spot by the window," Alex smiles beautifully, pulling Michael back into the present moment as he nods in agreement. 

"I should've tried harder not to get it through the door, though. Those muscles of yours are worth staring at a bit longer." 

"Well, hold that thought, Guerin, because I'm hungry for food at the moment," Alex replies as he wraps his arms around Michael. "I'm thinking of soup; it's chilly tonight. Maybe it'll even snow." 

Michael runs his fingers on Alex's thick biceps, feeling hungry for something else, "I doubt it. The forecast didn't show it. And knowing our little city, we'll probably end up having a heatwave tomorrow." 

"Hey now," Alex remarks, looking deeply into Michael's eyes, "you never can know future outcomes." 

Michael smiles mischievously, "I dunno...I think your future looks pretty damn bright tonight, babe." 

"Is that a promise?" Alex asks, clearly flirting back. 

"Always, darlin'.'" 

They lean in to share a long lingering kiss, but before it turns too heated, Michael's belly moans in betrayal. Alex pulls back as he chuckles, "Raincheck for later, okay? I'm going to start dinner. Can you set up the tree so we can decorate afterward?"

Michael glares down at his stomach for the interruption but nods, "Absolutely." He moves his fingers, "I do know how to use these hands."

Alex grins in that sexy way of his as he walks into the kitchen, "Don't I know it." 

Michael loves this. He loves that he decided to take the leap of faith and move in with Alex. This cabin has become their oasis, his true home. And here with Alex, he feels like he finally has a place here on earth. 

Everything they had been through, even the pain, was worth it to get to this moment. Michael can't help but feel tears form in his eyes as he feels overwhelmed in gratitude. 

While Alex moves around in the kitchen, Michael cheats a bit to get the tree set up. His powers hover the pine in the air as Michael uses his hands to set up the tree stand. As he moves the small box of ornaments and lights over from the closet, Michael smiles as he hears Alex humming a new song as he cooks. 

Michael wants to live here in this domestic bliss forever.

Alex brings out his home-cooked meal, and damn, Michael thinks as he eats, his man knows how to cook. After they eat the delicious soup, Michael scrubs the plates as Alex makes them each a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows, just the way Michael likes it. When the kitchen is clean, they sip on the chocolatey warmth as they string lights and decorate their tree. 

"Here's our new one," Alex says as he holds their new cosmic ornament in his hand. 

"That's a special one that needs to go right in front," Michael replies, as he hangs it up, hand-in-hand with Alex. "There." 

Alex leans over and kisses his cheek, which warms Michael's heart. "It's perfect." 

"You're perfect," Michael states as he leans his head onto Alex's shoulder. Alex slides his arm around his waist. Their movements are continuously in sync, and they are always somehow touching. 

As Alex's fingers softly graze over the skin on his hip, Michael knows what kind of touch he desires right this moment, "Now, how about we curl up by the fire, and I show you just how talented my hands can be?" 

"Yes, I could use the reminder," Alex responds with a slow grin.

They quickly light the fire, then Alex gives Michael the look as he pulls him towards the couch. 

Being so helplessly caught up in each other, they miss the first few snowflakes that fall in Roswell. 

****

It's cold out, but worth the trip. Alex gives the nod towards Michael, who taps gently on Sanders' trailer door. 

Michael shifts uncomfortably, but Alex is proud of him for facing the emotions he knows his love feels inside. 

After Sanders admitted to trying to adopt Michael, it indeed did something to Michael's heart. He opened up more, and Alex knew that Michael slowly realized he was always wanted and truly loved where it counted. It did something to Sanders too. Alex could almost see the young boy Walt coming through when they spoke now. There was a twinkle in his eye, and he would share memories with a smile instead of sadness. 

They felt like a family. 

That's why they had talked before coming to the old man's house with the cookies. There is something big that Michael wants to do, but Alex knows he's scared. 

Alex is by his side the entire time. 

Sanders opens the door with a smile, "Oh, Michael! Alex! Welcome! I wasn't expecting you." He shakes his shirt with a look of embarrassment. 

"We wanted to surprise you!" Alex says with a grin. He shakes the old man's hand. 

Sanders pats the back of his hand lightly, "I'm glad you did. Please, come in, you two. It's actually cold out." 

Michael takes a big breath and follows Sanders inside. 

When inside, Michael hands him the cookies, "Merry early Christmas." 

"Oh! These look delicious," Sanders says admiringly. 

"I'm not sure if you remember, but these are the exact cookies we made that one Christmas together." 

Sanders looks up at Michael with surprise, "Truly? The... 'burn on the arm' year?"

Michael nods with a jokingly wince, "The very one."

Sanders blows out hard, "Well, it always pained me that you got burned on that damn old oven of mine, but I must say, those cookies were superb, weren't they?" 

"They were, burned and all." 

"And you baked these all by yourself? Uh, should I be scared?" Sanders teases with a nudge. 

"Nah, I had some guidance," Michael mentions as he casually puts his arm around Alex. 

Alex shrugs, "I barely helped at all. Michael here did an excellent job. I tried one, so I can promise you that you'll survive." He winks at Michael. 

"Oh, phew! That's a relief," Sanders chuckles. "Michael, where did you find the recipe?" 

"In the garage, it was in a wooden box on one of your shelves. The one that's slightly tilting. I remembered you putting it in there." Michael taps his head, "I'm pretty observant if you haven't already noticed."

Sanders sighs with a lopsided grin, "You get it from me, I think." He pops one in his mouth. "Wow, absolutely delicious." After he chews, he looks towards Michael with an expression of gratitude. "Well, thank you, son, this means a lot to me."

Alex knows what the word son does to Michael, its effect on him, and Michael shifts awkwardly. He looks over to Alex for reassurance, and Alex holds his hand, comforting him the best way he knows how.  

His strength, after all, is linked to Michael's. They go together in every way that matters. 

"That's not the only thing I brought for you," Michael whispers. He reaches into his back pocket and hands Sanders the envelope. 

"Oh, a Christmas card?"

"Um, well, not exactly," Michael replies as he squeezes Alex's hand tighter. 

Sanders puts on his reading glasses and switches the lights on brighter in the trailer. He opens the envelope and starts to read. The small smile on his face begins to fall, and he becomes nonplussed.

Alex acknowledges that Michael gets uncomfortable, maybe even nervous, but Alex knows that Sanders is touched. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Sanders looks up, and his eyes are full of tears. His voice comes out raspy and hoarse as he asks, "You sure? You want that?"

"More than anything," Michael responds, his voice also full of emotion. "If you'll have me, of course." 

"It would be an honor, son." Sanders sets the adoption papers onto his small wooden table and pulls Michael tightly in his arms. "You've always felt like mine, anyway." 

"I think my mom would be happy about this," Michael cries, letting the tears fall down his face. It's the most beautiful sight to witness, and Alex can't help but let go, too. 

Sanders nods and closes his eye as he holds his son, "You know, my boy, I think she would." 

****

A few days before Christmas, Alex and Michael decide to throw a little festive party at the cabin. They spent the morning stringing up lights outside, getting the drink station ready, and preparing their friend's gifts around the tree. 

It was perfect. 

Isobel is the first to arrive, of course, and she brings so many gifts, she can hardly get through the door, "Hello? A little help here, Michael?" 

"I'm coming. I'm coming!" 

Alex finishes up in the kitchen, and even though the feast smells delicious, Michael's man looks good enough to eat. 

Soon after Isobel has her martini in hand, the others follow suit. 

Liz and Kyle come together, hand-in-hand, and Michael prays it won't be awkward with Max. Gregory shows up, and Isobel immediately wraps her arms around him. Michael and Alex share a knowing smile, especially when she holds a mistletoe above his head. Then Maria and Mimi head inside with a few bottles of wine. With holes in the top, Rosa brings a large box inside, making Michael wonder what it is, but Arturo follows with a banana cream pie from the diner, and the rest is history. Sanders joins, of course, and Michael can't help but hug him longer than the rest. And finally, his boy Max. 

Luckily everyone gets along perfectly. The group has been through so much together that they make a toast for a fresh new beginning. 

Everyone at the party finally knows about the aliens being, well, aliens, and swore to protect them. The secret has bonded and united them in ways Michael never expected.

The group mingles as they sip their drinks, and Michael looks around the room at his friends and family, feeling lucky. He made a life for himself in Roswell, and as he looks towards the love of his existence, Michael knows it's time. 

He takes a moment to just stare at Alex, and suddenly he's beyond grateful he listened to his heart. 

Alex is the one for him. Michael now understands that this human was his reason for coming to this planet—they were written in the stars long ago, destined to be together. 

This is why Michael stands up bravely, walks towards Alex, and gets down on one knee. 

Michael opens the little black box he got in the store with Isobel and reveals a silvery gray tantalum band, one he knows will fit Alex perfectly. 

Isobel hushes everyone down and clasps her hands together as she sends Michael a wink from across the room. Max also gives Michael an encouraging nod, which provides him with the strength he needs at that moment. 

Michael stares up at the man he adores, and Alex's perfect mouth falls open. Taking his love's hand, Michael finally finds his voice, "Alex Manes, you are my whole world. When we were teens, you looked at me in music class and sparked something deep inside me; something I didn't quite understand, but it was there with me all along. And when we kissed for the first time, you woke me up to the life I had always dreamed of having. You are that dream, Alex. You are my family, and you've given me a place to call home. I have loved you from the beginning, and I'll love you to the very end." Michael takes a deep breath, "I would be the happiest alien on earth if you would yes. So please, darlin', will you marry me?" 

Alex gleams as tears fill those beautiful eyes, "We truly are linked...." 

"What...what do you mean?" Michael whispers, but Alex immediately joins him on the floor, kneeling in front of him. 

Alex pulls out an emerald velvet box and opens it. Inside is an engraved bronze band that matches the color of Michael's eyes. He holds his breath as the rest of the world fades away. "I mean, you beat me to it even though I've had this ring since we officially got together." Alex places his hand to Michael's face and strokes his cheek gently. "I was waiting for our first Christmas together because I wanted to give us both a happy memory to erase all the bad ones. The plan was going to ask Walt for his approval, which he wholeheartedly gave." They both look at Sanders, who nods with a loving grin. "And then I'd get down on one knee in front of all our loved ones and ask if you'd continue to create this life together with me, a true home." Then Alex holds Michael's hand again, "All I can say is that I love you more than I could ever begin to put into words, and I'm asking you if you'd do me the honor in marrying me?"

Michael doesn't realize he's crying until he feels the drops land on his outstretched hand. "Oh my God, Alex...." 

"Is that a yes?"

Michael laughs softly as he strokes the back of Alex's hand gently, "I believe I asked you first, darlin'." 

Alex nods with a breathtaking smile, tears flickering those beautiful dark eyes, "Of course I will. A hundred times, yes!" He leans in closer to Michael, "And you?"

"That would be a hell yes, baby!" He hears a whoop from one of his friends in the background, but then Michael gets serious. "It's always been a yes for me." Michael cups Alex's face, "You're my human, Alex Manes." 

"That's Alex Sanders if you don't mind."

Michael looks over at his adoptive father again, who's now wiping his eyes and positively glowing. Michael kisses Alex's lips, "I don't mind a bit." 

As they finish their first engaged kiss, their friends cheer, cry, and hug them both tightly, then Isobel giggles, "Is now a good time to give you two our gift?" 

"Go for it, Scooby Squad," Michael exclaims as he takes Alex's hand in his own, never wanting to let go. 

Isobel looks to the room they had closed, "Okay, Rosa, bring her out!" 

Michael and Alex exchange a look. Bring who out?

And before Michael can overthink it, Rosa comes out holding a beagle puppy. "It's a rescue. The shelter I volunteer at found her abandoned on the side of the road." 

"We thought it would be perfect for you two, plus, remember that dinner we had a couple of weeks ago?" Isobel says as she looks towards Alex. "You practically said you were going to start looking for one. I remember you saying, 'the cabin is much too quiet, I think we need to get a dog.'"

Alex laughs and takes the small puppy into his arms, "I don't recall those were my exact words, but it doesn't matter; she's perfect."

"Lost without a family," Michael says, petting the puppy's long ears, "sounds like the two of us all right."

"You mean a found family!" Liz calls out. "Just like all of us."

Alex looks at Michael and nods. Michael smiles back, "We love her. Thank you, everyone!"

"I knew this pup would be a part of your future," Mimi exclaims, and Michael watches Alex wink at her. "She's a gentle soul. I'm happy she'll have you two." 

"Best dog daddies ever," Maria smiles happily. Everyone in the room has what seems to be permanent heart-eyes. "We will miss her, though! She's been staying with us." 

"Well, you know you all are welcome here anytime!" Alex says. 

"What will you name her?" Gregory asks as Isobel leans back into his arms. 

"How about Kyletta?" Michael laughs as he looks towards Kyle. "Kyletta Barklenti." 

"Real funny, alien boy," Kyle responds, as he rolls his eyes looking reasonably amused. He looks over at the food, "How about Bagel? You seemed to be pretty obsessed with those today, Guerin. I mean, how many did you actually eat?" 

"I was hungry!" Michael retorts, "You didn't bring nearly enough to share." 

"Okay, okay," Alex intervenes as he shakes his head. Michael enjoys ruffling Kyle's feathers, but Michael doesn't mind the guy beneath his human annoyances. He's a good friend to Alex, making him a good man in Michael's book. 

"So, what are you going to name her then?" Max asks from across the room.

"Yeah, I mean, you don't actually have to name her after a food," Kyle teases. 

"No," Michael grins, "you know what, Doc? I like it. Bagel. It has that—" 

"Bagel! Yes, call her Bagel. I love it!" Isobel interrupts. 

"Not again..." Michael groans quietly. Isobel + anything bagel = interruptions, which is a no-go, especially when it comes to Alex. 

After they finalize the name, everyone gushes over the puppy and their rings. They eat, share stories, and finish opening gifts. 

The day is perfect in every way. Even on the Hallmark channel, they don't make them better than this.

Michael holds Bagel in his arm and takes a break from the crowd. He sits on the couch in the living room, and the puppy folds up into his lap, falling asleep as Michael rubs her ears. 

After a moment or two, someone strokes his shoulder lightly, and he looks up to see his fiancé's beautiful face. Michael feels immensely grateful, not for the first time this holiday season.

Alex scoots in close and whispers in Michael's ear, "So, my love, would you say this Christmas is worth remembering?" 

Michael pulls Alex in his arms, "Yes, darlin'. I've never been happier in my life." He takes Alex's hand with the ring and kisses it. "Our family is already growing."

"It sure is," Alex says, putting his forehead against Michael's as he strokes Bagel's soft fur. 

They sit there for a while, just the three of them, with the comforting hum of loved ones surrounding them. 

"Wow...Look, Michael." Michael looks out the window to see it snowing.  The snowflakes fall to the ground in a swirling dance. It reminds Michael of their life together, new and old memories, coming together in a story of love. 

Michael feels complete peace in his heart as Alex says, "Merry Christmas, my love."

It was merry, and their future, well, Michael knows it will be very bright as long as they always have each other. 

"I love you," Michael answers. 

Alex's reply is the kiss they share and would continue sharing for the rest of their days. 

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part III: Near & Far

Description: Promising beginnings and a premature end throw you into a tailspin Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: depictions of mild PTSD symptoms, mentions of death of a close family member, disappearances, “breakups,” angst, profanity Word Count: 1882 words (~9 mins of falling in love and wallowing in angst 😱😂) Author’s Notes: If you’re still following this story, please accept a giant (virtual) hug from me to you!  Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart for supporting me and this piece of work! 💖 Without further ado, I present to you part 3 of my slow-burn Shaw fic, written for the lovely @op-peccatori​ as part of my follower milestone celebration.

As always, dear reader, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, and happy reading! 😊

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Four

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“You can relax, you know.  I won’t try anything funny while you sleep, not my style.  Besides, isn’t this much better than camping out on the floor?”

Nodding your head before you realize that Shaw probably couldn’t see you in the dark, your “Yes” comes out in a mewl so pathetic you wished you could immediately take it back.

His snicker shakes the bed, reverberating across squeaky springs to where you lay beside him, right at the edge of the twin mattress as you tried not to let your hands touch.

No matter how much you wished for them to.

Beyond the window, a neon signboard paints electric shadows on your walls in splashes of pink, flashing in time to a rhythm Shaw tapped out with one foot beneath the covers.

“Is it cool if…if we didn’t draw the blinds tonight?  I can’t sleep in complete darkness.” He had asked you earlier that evening, towelling off his hair as he emerged from your bathroom wearing a shirt your ex had left behind along with your broken heart a year and a half ago.

Snoopy looked much better riding his skateboard across Shaw’s broad chest anyways.

And there, in the midst of an awkward arrangement where sleep would surely prove fleeting, the sounds of the night: the low hum of the refrigerator, the pawn shop’s sign buzzing just on the other side of the windowpane…the tick-tock of the clock on the wall, steady like Shaw’s breath beside you as it counts down precious time—

“I’ll be out of your hair first thing tomorrow morning.”  

Ba-bump.

“No, there’s…there’s no rush.  Honestly.”

“Can you really afford to miss more work because of me?”

Silence.  You couldn’t refute the truth.

“Tell you what, in exchange for putting up with me, you can ask me anything you want.  I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes; surely you must be curious about some things.  Might as well find out before I go.”

Your stomach knotted, clenching tight.  He was right.  For all you know, it was now or never.  “Why did you join?  The triad, that is.”

He is silent for a moment, as if trying to find the right words to piece together.

“I’m looking for my brother.”

Out of all possible answers, this wasn’t one you were expecting.  Turning onto your side, you study the handsome profile of his face — watching as pink mixed with lavender in the most ethereal way until you were overcome with the sense that in this vast ocean of life, you and him stood on very different shores.  Eyes still fixed on your ceiling, Shaw continues.

“He was an undercover cop, working to infiltrate the ranks of the group I’m currently a part of.  I only found out by accident, and he made me swear up and down not to breathe a word of it to mom.  Then one day…he was gone.  Just...disappeared off the face of the earth.  Mom and I went down to the station every day for months, knew the names and faces of everyone who worked in that building, but it was like Gavin never even existed.

“It was too much for her.  I came home late from school one day — found her on the floor, barely breathing.  It was dark in the apartment…so dark.  She had probably just drawn the curtains.  By the time the paramedics arrived, she was already gone.  Heart attack, they said.  

“I lie awake at night sometimes, wonder how I’m going to tell him that mom’s no longer here — go through the motions in my head, rehearsing every line.  ‘Cus I know that sooner or later, that day will come.  There’s no way he’s dead.  I know my brother.”

A glimmer at the corner of his eye catches yours.  Beneath the covers, your fingers inch towards his, finding courage in the darkness to brush against his pinky as if the sliver of warmth could express what words simply couldn’t convey.

“With mom gone, there was nothing to lose.  I joined the group, worked hard…did what they needed me to do to gain their trust, all while collecting scraps of info here and there — whatever I could get my hands on in the hopes that it’ll lead me to Gav.”

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.

Tiny drops of rain speckle your windowpane.  And when Shaw’s finger hooks around yours as if in a solemn pinky swear, the tears burning your eyes finally fall.  You don’t ask him how many years it’s been, the dirty deeds he’s had to sully his hands with.  You don’t question him about the father he doesn’t mention.  All you can do is watch as a solitary drop rolls down the side of his face before soaking into lavender strands fanned out on the pillow, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows back bitterness only he knew.

In spite of it all, he is the one who chuckles when he turns towards you, eyes red rimmed even as his brows rise in feigned exasperation when he says, “Why are you crying?!  I’m the one with the tragic past here!”

And when you start to cry even harder, his soft hushes of “Shh, shh…I’m sorry, that last part was a joke.  It’s all right, everything will be okay, I promise,” burrows deep into your heart and you believe him.

Because when he reaches towards you — the thumb wiping the tears from your eyes calloused yet gentle — you are struck by a sense of overwhelming tenderness:

In the carefulness of his touch.

In the way he regards you with the sincerity of some unspoken emotion.

In the entirety of this man whom the rest of the world has already written off.

And that is when you know…

“I didn’t mean to make you cry by telling you all this, I’m sorry.”

…that you are in love with him.

“I’ll make it up to you.  Ask me another question.  Maybe something less depressing this time.”  

A smile spreads across his face.  You wished there was a way for you to keep the warmth of his hand on your cheek forever.  Sniffling, you try again.

“Wh-why did you keep coming in to my store everyday?  There’s a lot of other convenience stores in the area—”

A flash of panic in those amber eyes, and Shaw is turning over with lightning speed until all you can see is the smooth expanse of his back.

“Changed my mind.  A guy’s gotta keep some secrets!  Goodnight!”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

Wrap your arms around the pillow.

“Good girls shouldn’t concern themselves with bad boys.”

Bury your face into its cushiony fill.

“Or have you forgotten that I’m wanted by the police?”

And inhale deeply.

Shaw’s scent on your sheets is faint now, so much so that you can’t be entirely sure you’re not imagining it, having gone through this ritual countless times since the day Shaw left your apartment…

…and stepped out of your life.

                   *                                         *                                          *

“Is there…any way I could stay in touch with you?  I-I just…just want to make sure you’re okay…”

Voice trailing off, you watch as Shaw gingerly shrugs one arm then another through the sleeves of his leather jacket, still wearing the Snoopy t-shirt he had slept in the night before after you told him he could keep it.  His own was torn beyond repair, stubbornly dyed in blood regardless of how much you scrubbed at it.  And when he hesitated still, you said he would just be doing you the favour of taking out the trash.  

Smoothing down the front of his jacket, Shaw glances at the phone in your hands — eyes tracing along your eager fingers, poised to type.  The expression on his face is unreadable, as if the man you had spent the night sharing secrets with was nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

“It’s better if we don’t.  I’ll be fine, just laying low for the next while — boss’s orders.  And I don’t want the cops coming around to your place again.  Detective Whatshisname looks like he could be really good at hounding pretty girls like you.”

That smirk again, so familiar to you by now.  And in the compliment that would’ve made you blush bright red before, nothing but a smokescreen.

“Shaw, I don’t mind—”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?" The force in his voice cuts, and you barely breathe to feel his finger curl beneath your chin, tilting up your face until you have no choice but to meet his gaze.  Those eyes are dull, like molten gold frozen beneath a layer of impenetrable ice.  “Good girls shouldn’t concern themselves with bad boys.  Or have you forgotten that I’m wanted by the police?”

The shiver that runs electric down your spine makes the hairs on your skin stand on end.  It was like looking at a stranger.  Heart racing, your palms grow clammy with sweat, unsure of exactly when your phone had dropped from your hands, slipping away like…

“I don’t care about the cops!  I’ll deal with them—”

“DEAL WITH WHAT?!  You think that just because you managed to turn them away at the door that it makes you a hardened criminal?!  WE are not the same, okay?  My life is worthless.  I’ve already signed it away a long time ago, I’m ready to give it up without a second thought.  But you…you’re different. Y-you’re kind, innocent.  You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.  One day, you’ll make someone the luckiest person in the world, be a beautiful mother to beautiful children.  Don’t sell yourself short…not for someone like me.”

The silence that descends is thick, suffocating.  You don’t speak, afraid to open your mouth because it takes all your concentration just to keep the tears from spilling from your eyes.

Finally letting go of your chin, Shaw reaches behind his neck to undo the clasp on the thin gold chain he wore, the jade disc pendant that hung from it still warm from the heat of his skin when he places it in the palm of your hand.

“It’s not much, but it was a gift from my mom and the most valuable thing I own.  You saved my life, so it’s yours now.  Maybe…maybe one day, you can give it to your own child.”

Lump in your throat, you can barely breathe, let alone tell him there was no way you could accept something that precious, something that priceless.  That you didn’t drag him home that night, broken and bleeding, in the hopes of gain; not for money, not for love.

He curls your fingers around the heirloom, gentle thumb pressing on index, middle, ring then pinky in turn before your fist finds itself held tightly within the press of his much larger hand for one…two…three seconds…

…before those purple Chuck Taylors take him to your door…

Slam.

…and just like that, the man with the lavender hair is gone.

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Forgive me for trolling, but there really was only one bed LOL!  Hope you all enjoyed the latest chapter, and please stay tuned for what may be the final instalment in this Shaw saga! - XOXO

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Four

Thanks so much for reading! 💕 Check out more of my work here! 📚(Please do not repost/copy/alter my work.  Reblogs, on the other hand, are a-ok and much appreciated! 👍🏼💖)

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me: Chapter Four

How Claire found herself inside Jamie's bookshop, and what happens when Jamie finally gets inside to watch her perform.

READ ON AO3

The Alleys of Beacon Hill, Boston; Early October, Mid-Morning.

Following a very intense conversation with Joe and Geillis in which Claire repeatedly tried to express that there was absolutely nothing going on with that guy from the night before, peppered with lines like, “Oh bullshit, Claire! Jamie couldn’t take his eyes off ye!” from Geillis and “Seriously. It was disgusting. And romantic. Something’s there!” from Joe, Claire eventually succeeded in getting them to let the topic lie… for now.

Outside in the daylight, Claire felt refreshed. She would find a place to sit and write, and decompress. Strolling down her tree-lined street, breathing in and out slowly, she savored the way autumn here made her feel. The brick townhomes was trimmed in white with shiny red and  black doors, covered in wild ivy and window boxes with trailing flowers. Mums in classic pots lined the front porches, and stone walls raised courtyards and gardens above the worn-brick sidewalks. Tall trees, oak and maple and elm, towered as tall as the buildings and brought a soft green and yellow glow to everything below their canopies. Everything felt old, here. There was a history, here. Under normal circumstances, Claire could’ve never dreamed of living here in Beacon Hill, but because of Lamb’s will, his love, his generosity, she was now able to call her favorite place, home. She was a woman who placed very little weight on material goods, but if the townhouse and her greenhouse were the only things she claimed, she would die happy. Boston was the first place that Claire felt she could create her own history. She wandered through the winding alleys of Beacon Hill, admiring how green changes to gold on every leaf and living surface. She stopped at the coffee house that knew her name, left with an earl grey latte a few minutes later, and was back outside at a wrought-iron table and chair on the sidewalk, her black leather notebook and cheap pen drawn from her purse. She admired this little courtyard, tucked just off an alley. Across the close was her favorite bookstore. She often wished to had more time to visit the physical shop, but with running a business of her own, she didn’t have as much time to peruse all the fellow small businesses around her. When she moved to Boston in 2015, she stopped in the little bookshop, and left with nearly more books than she could carry. The man behind the desk told her she could place orders online as well if that would be easier for her, smirking as the top book of the stack Claire was balancing slid off the top. The bookshop took residence in a historic three-story brick building, with the shop taking up the bottom two floors. An open staircase in the middle of the shop gave way to an open loft filled with shelves and leather chairs. The downstairs was completely open, making it easy to work your way around the shop in a u-shape. For any other type of store, it might seem like a bit much. For the bookshop, however, it was the perfect mix of historical and charming and quaint and magnificent and absolutely beautiful. It had been awhile since she had been able to physically make it in the store, and she missed it and it’s comfortable grandeur greatly.

Today was different though, as Claire had given herself the day off while Geillis worked, and she would spend it adding new books to her collection. She savored the last time of her latte and stood when she glimpsed a man inside the shop putting up a poster in the window.

Local Musician Wanted. Claire approached the sign after the man finished taping it to the window. In smaller letters, it read: Come share your talent, play for the community, and grab a good book when you’re done. Call or inquire within.

She had promised herself to have more fun, and karaoke had turned out to be a blast in the years she and her friends had been going. Music and gardening are what made her feel alive, made her heart bloom… Why not give this a chance when she wasn’t working? Claire’s heart rate sped up and she started to sweat when she thought of going inside and introducing herself as a musician. Deciding she’d call and arrange a time to come in with her keyboard, she started to turn away. The morning sunlight caught the lettering on the window, glittering just at the edge of her vision. She’d never paid much attention to the store’s exterior before -- or really even the name, since she’d long been calling it just “the bookshop” for years now -- but today, the gold paint drew her attention. Fraser Literature. Her breath hitched, her pulse raced, her head lightened. She couldn’t look away from the sparkling name on the glass. It couldn’t be… could it? Her pulse raced, her head felt light, the brick and cobblestone around her began to swirl.

With one shaky step and an attempt at a steadying breath, she pulled open the heavy wooden door.

Fraser’s Literature, Beacon Hill, Boston. Mid-Afternoon.

Jamie stepped through the doorway and tried not to jostle the small crowd that had assembled at the front of the shop. He just wanted to glimpse her, convince himself that she was real, that this, was real. That she was here in his shop, playing her music, just for him. He slowly, carefully, made his way to back of the crowd and found a small bit of standing room directly in her line of vision. She’d play a song with no lyrics, only instrumental melodies followed by quiet chords braided with thoughtful verse and chorus. The sunlight was streaming in the shop’s window now, lighting the crown of her head with rivers of auburn and gold. God, she’s ethereal. After each song, the small crowd would quietly clap and she would politely nod, cheeks turning rosey with shyness when her eyes fell back to the keys -- like she hadn’t even noticed they’d been there. She’d occasionally look up and look around the crowd, but only for a moment. Come on, lass. Look up. Find me. See me. As if she heard his plea, she held a long chord with both hands on the keys and looked up, straight into his eyes. Jamie gulped. She was singing, in French. She was singing, to him. He hadn’t expected it to work, the calling for her. He didn’t expect to be shocked into stillness by the whisky of her eyes and the dark shimmering curls around her head. He didn’t expect to feel this way after one night with a lass he barely knew… But here he was, enthralled by her. A gentle hand cupped his shoulder then and he jumped.

“Ye look completely enamored for a man who just met the lass a single night ago. Like a lovesick puppy,” said Rupert. Claire had gone back to her songs, but both men continued to watch her.

Angus had joined them now. “Ye never want to seem too eager tae please a woman, ye ken? It gives them too much power.”

Jamie watched as Claire finished another piece. He had to physically keep his feet rooted in place when she glanced his way, quirked a corner of her mouth up in a smile, and quickly looked down, tugging her cardigan tighter around her chest to hide the pink bloom erupting there and moving up her neck. “Aye, I’m completely under her power,” he smiled softly at her, “and happy tae be there.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Jamie tried to work, he really did. He refused to work in his office, since it was the furthest place from the front windows, and the furthest place from Claire. He went around with a polishing rag, trying to be inconspicuous with his meanderings until Rupert whispered, “I can practically see ma reflection in that shelf. Maybe move yerself along?” He tried to water the plants, only to remember he’d already done that when the pots started to overflow. He would run his hands through his hair just for something to occupy his time. Eventually, Angus suggested he bide his time making sure the rare and first-edition copies that sat on the highest shelves were dust-free.

“Aye, that’s a good idea! I’ll just be up on the ladder then if ye need me.” Angus laughed and shook his head as Jamie ascended the first rung. “Come get me, will ye,” Angus turned to look at him with a smirk and raised brow, “if she… uh, if anything happens.”

“Yeah yeah, get tae work. I doubt she’ll be leaving without saying hello if her looks meant anything at all -- and they definitely did.”

Jamie placed the last book at the end of the row back into its place and started his way back down the ladder to slide it to the next tall shelf when electricity pulsed up his calf. He lost his footing and came to a crashing halt on his back on the floor.

“Fuck fuck fuck… Fuck! are you okay? I shouldn’t’ve spooked you!” He tried to shift himself up, but couldn’t. “Don’t try to move; here, I’ll try to keep you still. Is your head okay?” It took Jamie a moment to get his bearings. His head smacked the hardwood floor when he landed, and his wrist tried to take the fall. Neither of those things were of much concern to him now though, since Claire was kneeling over him. Not just kneeling over him, he noticed. She was on top of him, a knee on either side of his torso. His brain was short-circuiting. She was in light-wash high-waist skinny jeans, a goldenrod cardigan, and a white tank top and she was on top of him . He couldn’t stop tracing her with his eyes. “Jamie?? I’m going to need you to respond or I’ll have to call the squad. Can you hear me? Can you say something, please? What hurts??” Dear God in heaven, nothing hurts. Nothing a damn thing. Her face came closer to his and he noticed the way her curls fell forward, how the sun was still lighting her from behind, how she was absolutely incredible. He blinked. Her brows knitted and her hands came to his face. Her touch revived him and he remembered how to speak.

“Claire,” he watched her, reverently. She smiled as her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Oh, thank god. You scared the shit out of me with that little stunt, you know,” she said as she began touching near and watching his eyes. Touch me again, never stop, he thought to himself. “How do you feel? Any ringing in the ears, nausea, blurry vision, dizziness, light sensitivity? Wait, you’re not bleeding, are you?”

Jamie smirked. “Actually, there’s some pressure on my abdominal region.”

“Your stomach? I don’t understand how that could have…” She blushed when she realized she was still straddling him, right on the storeroom floor. “You mean me.” She climbed off of him as quickly as she could manage and turned a shade of red Jamie hadn’t known was possible. “I am SO sorry about that, I didn’t know if you’d be injured and you wouldn’t stay still so I--”

“It’s quite alright, lass. Thank ye for looking after me. Truly.” His hand came out to hold hers. His thumb brushed her knuckles.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Honestly? I feel terrible.”

“I’m jes’ fine, Sassenach.” He made to stand up then, using his arm to prop himself when he stood. He came crashing back down with a grunt.

“It sure wouldn’t seem like you’re “jes’ fine”,” she replied in her best mocking tone. He smiled, sheepishly. “Is there somewhere we can go where I can have a better look at it?”

“Does up in the loft work for ye? It’s usually quieter, and better light than in the office.”

“Sounds perfect.” She extended a hand to him. “On your feet, soldier.” He looked at her then. How could one woman go from tugging on his heartstrings with soft melodies and French words to making him fall for her with demanding medical questions and authoritative requests. He watched her outstretched hand, her long fingers, her gentle bones. He watched her eyes, watch him. He grasped her hand, and she led up him up the stairs to the loft. She led him. In his shop. Seeing her lead him, he decided he’d let her lead up anywhere for the rest of his days.

She motioned for him to sit in a velvet wingback chair and took his wrist in her hands. He tried to breathe normally as her fingers probed the dips in his palm and traced down the veins in his forearm. Surely, she would feel his pulse. Surely, she would know she was the one that made it race. In the distance, Jamie heard her ask him some questions about pain and discomfort, and he’d nod or not depending on his response. He couldn’t form words. He was still in disbelief she was even there, in front of him, kneeling at his side.

Claire sat back on her heels. “Will you tell me if it starts to hurt? You could have a sprain, you know. That was a pretty nasty fall.”

His mind was working overtime but he finally found words to use. “If ye didna find anything wrong, I’m sure I’m jes’ fine.” He dipped his head to meet her eyes. “Yer a verra competent doctor, Claire.” He grinned. A tear fell from Claire’s face. “Och lass, what is it? Did I do something wrong?” She sniffed. She wouldn’t look at him. “Please, Claire. Please talk to me.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m not a doctor, is all.” She wiped away a tear with the sleeve of her sweater. “I actually… I quit medical school, a few years back.”

“I’m sorry, I didna know…”

“It’s honestly fine,” she replied hastily. “I’m really happy with the decisions I’ve made in my life, and I don’t have any regrets. Honestly. It’s just… sometimes it hits me that the plans I made my whole life didn’t work out. It gets me sometimes.” Jamie watched her, listening. “Oh my god, I just keep rambling!” She sat back on her hands, legs out in front of her, ankles crossed. “I’m so sorry about that, I really am fine.” She smiled at Jamie, and reached down to hold her hand.

“I understand the feeling of missing things that didna come to pass. I feel it myself sometimes.” Claire watched their hands intertwine. “Ye can always talk to me, Claire. I’m always here.” I’ll always be here.

She laughed then, and looked up at him still sitting in the chair. “Next time, I’d like to see you when one of us hasn’t nearly killed ourselves with a fall.” She giggled, and Jamie followed suit.

“Ideally, that’d lovely,” he replied with a laugh of his own. “What brings ye to the shop by the way, if ye don’t mind me asking? I never expected to see ye here today.”

“Oh, I came here for the first time after I moved, and I try to make my way in again whenever I can but work makes that a little difficult. It’s one of my favorite places in Boston though. It’s so quaint and quiet, but somehow still enchanting, and then today I saw a poster in the window asking for musicians and…” Jamie was absolutely beaming. “Wot?”

He laughed then at her absolute Englishness, and brought his free hand up to join their combined ones. “I’m jes’ glad ye like it here so much is all.”

She looked down at their hands. “To be honest, I was going to come today anyways, but then I saw the poster, and I remembered what the name of this place is, and well, I took a chance.”

Jamie was watching her intensely. “And ye took a chance.” He, too, looked down at their hands. “I’m glad ye did.”

The conversation was heavier than Claire thought it would be. She didn’t expect this. She cleared her throat and asked, “So, how long have you been here?”

“Me, or the shop?”

“Both, I suppose. The shop has been here as long as I have.”

“I moved here from Scotland--”

“Shocking, the accent didn’t give anything away,” she joked, and he pinched her forearm before continuing.

“--back in 2015--”

“Hey, that’s when I got here, too!”

“--and I’ve been here ever since. When I graduated my undergraduate studies, I went back home to the highlands and spent some time with family. Wandering the cobbled streets, the little shops, reading about the history… it was the only thing I wanted to do with my life. Some things happened back in Scotland -- some family things and some ex-girlfriend things -- and Boston seemed as good a place as any with history to start over. So, here I am. I started the shop, hired the lads when they came over a bit after me, and that’s the story.”

“I feel like there’s more to the story you’re leaving out,” she said with a grin, “and I do love a good story, Mr. Fraser.”

“Ye got the Cliffnotes version. Tell me yours,” he nodded at her.

“Well, I nearly didn’t survive medical school. I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t coping, and my mental health was kind of in the gutter,” she looked at him, and he gave her a sympathetic smile. Maybe he understood the feeling better than he let on. “I decided to drop out during my junior year and leave it behind. My uncle used to live here and left me some property, so I moved, and started over. Geillis and Joe came over after they graduated. Joe continued with medicine, and Geillis joined me, and as you said, that’s the story.”

“And where is it you started over at? What is it ye do?”

“Oh, I opened a plant shop here in Beacon Hill. It’s exotic houseplants, non-traditional bouquets, that kind of thing. It’s small, and eventually I’d like to run a greenhouse and garden, but right now, the shop is perfect. Besides, Boston isn’t exactly conducive for having that, is it?” She laughed, and tried to hold her pipe dreams at bay. “Geillis offers zero-waste products, and makes some of the macrame hangers and planters in the shop. It really is the most lovely place. If you ever want to visit and make sure I’m not the one to fall off a ladder, it’s just over on---”

“Garden Street. Aye, I know the place,” said Jamie, smiling to himself. His eyes were positively twinkling.

“You know the shop?”

“Where d’ye think all the plants in this place came from? Aye, I know yer wee shop and believe me, Claire. It’s a dream. I had no idea it was you behind it all.” He paused, watching her. Drinking her in. “We’ve just missed each other for years now, it would seem.”

All she could do was nod. Her mind was racing. How had they been so close so many times, but had never met? How had only two days with the man made her feel like her heart was beating outside her chest? He moved to the floor to sit next to her, his hand on her thigh. Suddenly, he turned to her. “I think yer verra brave, Claire. For starting over like that. For following your dreams.” Her pulse slowed with his comforting words, and her hand rested on top of his. “I could say the same about you, you know.”

They stayed that way for a while, watching the people down below, touching hands, touching legs, moving closer into shoulders and sides. Jamie leaned back into the shelves. Claire sighed.

“Since you own the place, I guess I should let you get back to work.” She stood, smiled, and started down the stairs. Jamie launched to his feet, unwilling to let what happened the previous night repeat itself.

“Claire! Lass!” He reached for her hand and she stopped a few stairs below him, turning to face him. His mouth was dry.

“I dinna think I can’t wait a week to see ye again. I didna think I could stand it this morning and then ye dropped out of the clear blue sky into my shop and ye sang yer songs -- oh, and I didna know ye knew French! I do as well,” Claire blushed at that but Jamie continued on, “and ye showed up and mended my wounds and ye told me of our shared histories, and… and I willna wait to see ye again.” He descended a step. “That is, if ye want to see me, too.”

Claire was overcome not just with Jamie’s declaration, but also with everything that had happened today and the last five years that led them here today. She could only smile at his nervousness, and admire him. You’re beautiful, James. His simple navy t-shirt was pulled taught across strong muscles, the red curls she daydreamed of were just combed straight back with the exception of a single lock that escaped with his chase of her down the stairs. His ocean eyes bore into hers with a plea, with an guarded passion Claire was increasingly desperate to unlock. She reached in her crossbody bag to retrieve a pen and finding no paper, offered up a Dunkin’ Donuts receipt. She brought the receipt up to his chest, just above his heart, and wrote her name and number.

“I’ll be waiting for your call,” she said, and turned back down the stairs, not waiting for a reply.

She reached was reaching for the door when a voice echoed down the stairs, “I promise ye’ll hardly be waiting at all, Sassenach.”

His phone rang then, and a woman’s smiling face shone up at him from the screen. As soon as he could, he would call Claire. He sighed, and hit accept on the call. 

[mexican-honeymoon]

I can’t find your ask box, so I hope this is the best way to send this! Dialogue prompt options: 14, 23, or 37? Or all three if you want 😂 I’m so excited for more SethKate from you!!!

@yossariandawn this is for you! My love for this ship has just reignited over the last week and I’ve missed writing for them. Hope you enjoy! 

14. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” 

37. “Lie to me then” 

He doesn’t know how he’s ended up here; hunched over an oak bar, light headed and with a clenched hand wrapped tightly around a bottle of whiskey, nothing but the distant thrum of traffic and the silvery glow coming through the windows for company. Actually, scratch that, he does know how he’s ended up here, but if he thinks on everything then he’s just going to fall further and further down the neck of the shiny bottle and he doesn’t want that. Seth doesn’t want to drown in the amber contents that now slosh against the glass as he moves the bottle from side to side, because he knows if he does end up getting as drunk as he wants then he’s just going to fall even more apart. 

He’s tried to hold it together since Matanzas, tried to ignore the dull ache that rests in the crease of his elbow like a taunt - like a fickle craving that’s just about ready to burst at the seams or pop like a balloon. But he can’t do that to himself anymore, he can’t give in to that destructiveness he used to so readily clutch. But most of all he can’t do it to her. 

What would Kate think of him if he stuck a needle inside his arm and filled it up with venom? How would she see him then? He can’t ignite her trauma anymore than he has with the bitter memory of all those months in Mexico - the time he was strung out and irritable, just about ready to give up and crumble. 

He shuffles a little on the bar stool, looks around the dark expanse of Jed’s bar and tries to roll the memory out of his head with a brisk movement of his shoulders. No, he’s promised himself that he would just get drunk enough to forget every shitty thing he’s done since he came across a beat up Winnebago, not swim down memory lane and learn to hate himself even more. 

But it’s all really for nothing anyway, he concludes to himself, because no amount of alcohol or shitty drugs can do away with the memories. They all live inside his mind like little demons that scratch and dig with sharp claws, and they burrow holes inside his heart and his very torn up soul and there they live and fester. He just can’t get away from them - can’t get away from his guilt no matter how hard he tries. 

That point is proven when he’s met face to face with the very object of his torment as he turns back around on the stool. Kate. 

A dark silhouette cuts her shape within the doorway, and her shadow falls, elongated and warped, right over to where he sits. Seth just peers towards her with whiskey bleared eyes as she comes into view, and somehow his very worn out heart does some sort of a somersault inside the caved in shell of his chest as she leaves behind the darkness and begins to walk towards him. 

She’s tired looking, with dirt brown indents carved under her green eyes and porcelain pale cheeks that hollow just a little under the bone. Her fiery hair is tickling her shoulders, ruby red and glistening in the dark light that swathes her. Seth knows the frustration she went through after defeating Amaru, he knows the bitter tears she had cried while reconciling with her new appearance. But now she wears the red well, won’t go back to brown because deep down Seth knows she’s too afraid to look in the mirror and see the girl she used to be - the girl she could have been. But she had taken a rusty scissors to it and chopped off the long ends after Seth had sat with her for hours and combed out the unruly tangles and after she had scrubbed herself of any lingering war paint around her eyes. So now, she’s some version of her old self and this new, trauma wielded woman that looks like the ghost of an Xibalban queen. 

“Hey, princess" his voice sounds more like a sigh than actual words, so heavy with the things he really wants to say to her and punctured with the apology he aches to give her “Why are you up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep” she tells him as she sits down on the stool beside him, her emerald eyes flickering towards the bottle that sits atop the bar like an uncut gem, glistening with the way the moon shadows across it. But she doesn’t say anything. Whatever discontent Kate has for Seth’s late night drinking stays hidden behind her cherry lips - or perhaps she can understand why he’s trying to wash away his pain with straight whiskey. 

Her answer is leaden, lingering between them like a heavy anchor that’s just about ready to bring them down. Seth knows that there are a million unsaid things hidden behind the curtain of her words - that she can’t sleep because of the nightmares, the guilt she has festering inside of her because of all the crimes Amaru made her hands commit, and of the grief that has consumed her like a wave. 

She shuffles even closer to him then, and he freezes in his spot at the way her presence just bursts whatever protective bubble he’s tried to encase himself in. All he can feel is the electricity off her skin that bounces off of his and crawls right up his spine, and he can smell the apple scented shampoo he had grabbed for her in a convenience store coming off of her hair - and the entirety of her being just wraps around him like an embrace. He shivers a little where he sits. 

He’s tried so hard, these past two weeks, to stay close to her but remain distant at the same time. Seth has hovered around her, watching protectively from the shadows or staying close to her but never really talking much. He wants to make sure she’s safe, that she’s not falling into shards of broken glass but he doesn’t want to push her too much and be the cause of her downfall. He won’t do that, not again. 

He heard what she said in that cave. In the eyes of the people I love. He had seen the sincerity flicker itself inside her jade eyes. He remembers how much his heart had soared, but he knows he’s not worthy of her love. Not at all. So he’s resigned himself to be miserable without her, so she can eventually move on and forget all about him because Kate deserves to be in love with someone good. Someone that isn’t him. 

But he’s weak, always has been when it comes to her, so he can’t help it when he feels his body lean closer to hers. He wants to curse loudly or down the contents of the bottle in front of him in one swift go. But he refrains - just locks his elbows tight and slowly moves away from her again. 

“What about you, huh? Why are you up so late?” Kate asks him, her voice trying to sound light and playful, but it comes out winded like someone’s just punched her in the chest. Seth looks at her then, flickers his eyes all over her face and takes in the way her bottom lip is dry and chewed, and how a very painful sort of worry swims deeply in the expanse of her eyes. 

Something stills within his chest, and his breath is squeezed from him like someone’s just stuck their fist between his ribs and clenched his lungs. He hates seeing so much anguish shadow itself across her pretty face, because he knows he’s the cause of it and he can’t bear the vision of all his wrongdoings reflect within her eyes. 

“Ah, I’m not tired” Seth shrugs, looking away from her and towards the label on the bottle, reading it absently in an attempt to fill his mind with something that isn’t the all consuming devastation he feels whenever he looks at her. 

He loves her so much, and he knows he shouldn’t, he knows he’s no good for her and that he’d just ruin her further if he was to ever reach out and hold her like he wants to. So he just slinks further into the shadow of his soul, and lets his own self deprecating values completely swallow him. He needs to just put distance between them and brush off all conversation with something like indifference, but this is Kate Fuller who sits beside him, and she’s talented at prodding and poking the tight stitching of his soul and causing it to unravel within him. 

She does so with one scoff and a roll of those wondrously magnetic eyes, and somehow Seth feels as transparent as the whiskey bottle. 

“Alright, lie to me then” Kate says, her voice crystal and tight and it bounces off of him and reverberates somewhere deep inside him. He chances a glance at her and when he does she’s sitting rigidly in the stool with her face cupped between bone white hands. 

“I’m not lying” he dumbly answers her, calloused fingers drumming impatiently against his glass that is now half full, the amber liquid looking dismal and forlorn as it sits there undrunk at the bottom. He picks it up, brings it to his lips and downs the burn of it in one go. 

“Seth, you’re just as tired as I am. I know you, and I know you’ve not been sleeping and I know it’s because of me and -” 

“Woah, slow down, princess” Seth tells her with a concerned shake of his head “don’t think that this is your fault, alright? I’ve got my own shit crammed into my head, and yeah alright, I haven’t slept properly in two weeks but it’s not your fault” 

“Seth, you haven’t looked at me properly since I’ve come back. Every time we’re alone you come up with some excuse to leave me, you won’t look at me and you barely speak to me unless you have to. I know I’ve put you through a lot and I can’t help feeling like you can’t see me as….me anymore” her words are like an uncapped rush, like a flowing river that gushes out of her and Seth just sits there frozen when they reach his ears. Because fuck, she’s blaming herself for this as if she has anything to be held accountable for. 

All he had wanted was for his shitty excuse of a personality to be completely detached from her, because he just can’t corrupt her or ruin her any more than he already has. He’s the cause of all of this, the reason for her trauma and her pain, and Jesus Christ he’ll be damned if he ever allows himself to be the reason again. But now here she sits, still completely broken, thinking that she’s the reason why he’s wallowing in a pool of whiskey, as if she’s caused him pain. It’s the complete opposite really. 

“Kate” Seth groans, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, his head pounding now with the weight of all the things he wants to blurt out “that is not the reason for any of this, alright? You’re you, and I’m still me and I…I just can’t allow myself to be near you anymore because I don’t want to hurt you, okay? All of this is my fault. Mine, not yours, princess. You need to heal and just get over all of this shit, and I can’t ruin that for you. I’ve done enough damage to you” 

“So that’s what this is about? You blaming yourself? I thought we were over this, Seth” Kate sighs heavily, her eyes intently studying him as he climbs off the stool on heavy legs. He paces a little in front of her, one hand clasped around his hip like he always does when he’s preparing a speech that is always prominent with his own self hatred, or when he’s ready to lash out something she doesn’t really want to hear. 

“I did this to you, how can you not see that? I can’t sleep with the guilt of it, Kate. Every time I look at you I see somebody I fucked over, someone I should have protected and look what happened to you. I walked away from you and the fucking Queen of Hell took you, don’t you see how this is my fault? I never should have left you…fuck I never should have taken you in the first place” Seth tells her, his pacing coming to a stop as he stands in front of her. Kate looks so small, so shadowed from where she sits, with her wide eyes peering at him with that all too familiar glimmer in them that makes him feel like she can truly see his soul. But he’s reminded then that she already has seen it - she’d cleaved it from him and tasted it on the tip of her tongue when she’d been possessed. 

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” she almost whispers, her voice like a delicate breeze that kisses against his skin. 

“I’ve gotta live with what I’ve done, and I’m okay with that because I deserve to feel like shit. But don’t ever think that this is your fault, or that I don’t see you as you because you’re still Kate. No matter what. You’re Kate, and you’re wonderful and beautiful and I can’t destroy that anymore” he doesn’t really know why he feels like he can say all this, but he guesses the gold whiskey that now swirls in his veins is making his lips looser. 

“Listen to me very carefully, alright?” Kate jumps off the stool, her hands a little shaky by her sides as she comes to stand before him. He looks down at her, his whole body sagging in on itself with how close she feels to him right now. If he wanted he could reach out and touch her, run his fingers through her red hair and down her pale face. He could lean down and kiss her. But he doesn’t of course, he just nods dumbly and crosses his arms in front of him. 

“You didn’t destroy me, Seth. You fought so hard to get me back, and any guilt you have shouldn’t matter because I’m here now because of you. You’re the only one who can piece me back together, and you won’t even look at me” she tells him with a wobbly lip “I thought….I just thought that you’d understand how I felt for you when I said all those things back in that cave. I wouldn’t have said any of that if I blamed you or if I didn’t want to be near you again” 

“Kate, I’m not good for you, alright? You need to just forget about me and move on. You should just leave here and go back to wherever and put all of this behind you” 

“You’re not even listening to me, are you? I don’t blame you. I forgive you and I need you, Seth. You think you’ve broken me? Fair enough, I can’t change how you think, but man up and help me put myself back together. I can’t do that without you” she tells him, her slight shoulders now tightly squaring up like she’s gathering all of her courage under her skin to turn it into steel. He just looks at her for a second without speaking, just staring into her eyes and trying to see any flicker of insincerity but there is none. Whatever she had meant when she’d confessed her love at the mouth of Hell is still evident within her now. 

“I don’t deserve to do that, Kate. I don’t deserve you” Seth shakes his head, his voice hard like he wants to try and convince her to run a mile from him and never look back. But her face just falls a little, some sort of pink tinge colouring the apples of her cheeks as she peers up at him. 

“I saw into your soul, remember? I could feel how you felt for me then, but if you don’t feel like that anymore I understand” she whispers, her words like a window that’s just shattered into splinters and her pretty face crumples into furrowed lines. He can’t help himself then, he instinctively moves towards her and cups her lovely face between his gun roughened hands. He can see it swimming in her eyes - that uncertainty and rejection - as if his words of defiance are an inclination that he doesn’t want her like how she wants him. 

“Kate, you’ve no idea how much I want you. But I’d be selfish if I allowed myself to be with you” he tells her with a shaky voice, his heart hammering inside of him. She just peers back at him with green eyes that are filling with tears, and he collects the pooling at the corner of them with his thumbs. She doesn’t deserve any more tears, she’s cried enough already, and he especially doesn’t want her to cry over him. 

“We’ve been through so much, Seth, we deserve this. We deserve to be happy, and I’m happy when I’m with you, and I know you think you’re no good for me, but let me decide that, please” Kate almost pleads, her hands now coming to trace over his wrists that are pressed to her face. He lets a sigh out of his lips at her touch, and he knows then and there that no matter how much he’s tried to convince himself that he shouldn’t be with her, he’s not strong enough to deny his love for her when she’s so close. 

Maybe she’s wrong and she’ll live to regret this decision that the both of them are at the precipice of deciding. Maybe it’ll be too much for her to be with an older man, a criminal and someone who inadvertently destroyed her life and she’ll wake up some morning and decide to bolt. If she does then Seth will just allow her to, because she sure as hell deserves better than him. 

But maybe he’ll end up being the wrong one. Perhaps he can be good for her, and be the one to knit her broken pieces back together and she can do the same for him. Maybe they’re soulmates, and all of the shit that they’ve been through had been the universe’s cruel way of testing them and bringing them together. 

“I love you” he hears her say, and he’s brought back to reality then and he wonders just how long he’s been standing there wordlessly. But she’s looking at him with the most endearing look in her eyes, and the most kissable lips parted towards him and he thinks for one maddening second that if a girl like Kate Fuller thinks he’s worthy of her love then perhaps there’s a small semblance of truth to it. 

He has been trying so hard not to hurt her, but he knows deep down that pushing her away right now when she’s so vulnerably confessing to him will just hurt her even more. And it’s just going to hurt him too, and he wants to believe he deserves pain, but he also wants to be a good man and he wants to prove to her that she’s lovable and worthy and not some broken and tormented soul. She’s right, he thinks, they both deserve to be happy. 

“I love you too, Kate” he whispers to her in the dark “I really fucking love you, princess” 

“Then be with me?” she asks him as she gently pries his hands away from her face and holds them in her tiny ones. She starts walking them backwards then, well away from the bottle of whiskey that Seth would have allowed to consume him, and towards the doorway. 

Somehow she doesn’t look so tired anymore, like the weight that has been tied to her small shoulders is all but dissipating with every step they take together, and there’s something hopeful in her eyes that radiates out of her when he nods to her with a smile. 

“Always” Seth tells her honestly, but there’s still some sort of doubt that perches itself in his heart so he finds himself asking “Are you sure you want to be with me?” 

Kate just stops before the doorway, lets his hands drop as she takes a step closer to him. She’s so small and warm as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses against his chest, and before he can even let out a tight breath he feels her lips press gently against his own. It’s sweet and short, but he knows it’s going to be the first kiss of many and he relishes in the hope of that as she pulls away with a small smile. 

“I want to be with you” Kate tells him “Always” 

[spaceskam]

Follow up to this ❤️ special thanks to ul1tsa on ao3 for idea!

ao3

Warnings: talk Jesse and his bullshit & bombs

Michael waited a few weeks before he got drunk and lost that thing in his brain that kept him from doing dumb shit.

He went to the cabin and unlocked the door with his key. He didn't usually use keys, he had one in his brain, but there was something about having a key to Alex's place that felt special. Besides, he needed to make sure that's actually what it was. He pushed the door open and tried the light switches. The bulb on the porch was out. He'd need to get a new one.

He slowly navigated around the space, making a list of tiny things that were bothersome. He didn't even know if he was welcome here... But why else would Alex give him a key?

It was a two bedroom and had a bathroom that connected the two rooms. The kitchen was small and it didn't have a washing machine or dryer. The living room was old. None of it looked like Alex. What exactly would Alex's space even look like? He'd figure it out.

He went back outside to the wrap around porch, walking around it slowly and holding onto the rail. There were a few old boards that could stand being replaced. There was a window unit in each bedroom. He didn't figure it'd be too hard to change that for a central air system.

Michael went back inside and towards the kitchen. The refrigerator was unplugged, so he moved it to plug it back in. The cabinets were empty aside from some old canned beans and a single pan. He went back to the living room.

The couch was even more uncomfortable than he remembered, hard and a little dusty. He sat down anyway and rubbed his hand over it. When he laid down and breathed in, it didn't smell like Alex. It was unfair. Cruel, even.

He laid there anyway, lulling himself to sleep with the memory of Alex's skin.

-

It became a thing.

When his mind got chaotic and he needed something to do with his hands, he'd go to the cabin. He replaced boards, cleaned, hooked up a washing machine and dryer. After a couple months, he bought a comfier couch from an old lady who was selling it. He took down the hunting memoribillia and tried to find things that Alex might like. A couple trinkets bought during a trip to the nearby reservation, a painting bought from an artist who showed her work at the renaissance festival, and a hand-woven blanket from an older lady who traveled all the way from the Navajo Nation to sell the two she made a month at the market–and then vowed that he would never pay that much money for anything ever again.

He started spending more time there than he spent at his airstream and, after passing out on the couch after spending his entire day off trying to set up a central air system, he decided it might be worth buying food. So he did. He bought a few things, added three extra locks to the front and back doors, and brought his thrifted silverware and dishes from the airstream to set up a place for himself there.

It was slowly coming together. It felt like a home. He bought a broom.

He didn't tell Isobel or Max about any of this, they didn't need to know about Alex. Instead, Michael kept it to himself and spun lies about where he was whenever they asked questions. Usually they didn't. He was Michael, after all, it wasn't that odd for him to drop off the map.

He eventually started fixing up the bedrooms which were a little harder. It looked too much like a middle aged man stayed there and that was absolutely not the look he was going for. He got new bedspreads and sheets from a discount store and matching bedside tables from the dump that only needed some sanding and some finish to make nice. A new showerhead made out of things he found around the junkyard fit nice too. He played with the water heater until it stopped needing to be manually reset every 60 gallons, sanded and put finish on the dresser, built a new bed frame and headboard out of scrap wood, and fixed the janky doorknob of the closet. It looked livable now.

Alex's birthday came around and he didn't have a number to reach him, so Michael did something a little stupid and a little sentimental and found himself at a thrift store. He bought a set of two identical rocking chairs for the back porch. He almost threw them out three times, but he decided on leaving them there and just ignoring them until he stopped feeling like they were too much.

There was something about the cabin as it came together that both felt like home and like it was far  too sacred to make a mess of. He kept it cleaner than he'd ever kept a place before. The dishes were always done, his dirty clothes always ended up in the laundry basket, never let himself get drunk enough that he'd be compelled to make a mess, and he swept and mopped every Sunday. His shampoo and body wash didn't leave rings in the bathtub.

It was nice.

-

It was about a year into renovating and six months into practically moving in when he found a broken telecision in the junkyard that someone had dropped.off. Curiosity got the best of him and he found himself trying to make it work in his free time. There was a strange sense of pride when he plugged it in and it turned on, the picture only slightly tinted blue and the sound as perfect as the speakers would allow. He wrapped it up in a couple blankets and loaded it into his truck, stopping by a thrift store on the way to the cabin to buy a few interesting DVDs for 50¢ a piece. He couldn't remember the last time he actively sat down to watch a movie for fun.

It took about thirty minutes to mount it above the fireplace, but eventually it was up and he found himself smiling as he put in a shitty mid-2000s straight-to-DVD teen movie. It played easily and he smiled wider. If there was one thing fixing up the cabin did, it was make him smile. It felt good to fix things up.

Michael grabbed a beer that was beside the leftovers in the fridge and settled on the couch, kicking his shoes off and pulling a blanket onto his lap. His phone was on the coffee table and charging with an alarm queued up to wake him up for work in the morning .It was the most normal he'd ever felt and he never wanted to give it back.

And it seemed like he wouldn't have to until the door creaked open.

Michael shot to his feet, standing like he was caught red handed as Alex stepped inside. He was still in uniform, a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. His eyes were wide with wonder, though, as he looked around at all the shit Michael had done. It was the first time he regretted it.

"I'm sorry," Michael blurred out, catching Alex's attention, "I should've asked. I shouldn't have changed shit and I shouldn't have stayed here, I'm sorry, I'll go."

"Guerin, relax," Alex said, smiling in a pure way that Michael hadn't seen since they were seventeen, "I knew you were staying here."

"You did?" Michael asked skeptically.

"Yeah," he said, carefully putting down the duffle bag and closing the door, "Electric bill?"

Michael's eyes widened. "Oh, fuck, I forgot about that, I'm so sorry."

"Guerin," Alex laughed, "Stop. I'm happy you're staying here. I don't mind, really."

Michael swallowed and tried to believe him when he said he was happy. Because Michael was happy. Happy to be here, happy to see Alex, happy to see where tonight led. He tapped his hands against his thighs as Alex took another look around.

"I didn't expect all this, though," Alex breathed.

"It's, uh, not all of it. I can show you around?" Michael offered awkward. Alex smiled wider and nodded.

So Michael gave him a tour of his own house. He showed him the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, and how the locks on the doors worked. Alex put the duffle bag in the closet and gently touched Michael's shirt that was hanging in there like he didn't believe it was actually there. Michael stood with his hands clasped behind his back and rocked up on his toes as Alex felt over the headboard he made and the blanket on the bed. He shook his head, looking over at Michael.

"I can't... I can't believe you did all of this," Alex said, looking at him. He wasn't smiling anymore. Instead, he looked like he was about to cry.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Michael," he cut him, laughing softly as he came closer. He touched his arm, his hand sliding up as he moved in closer and draped his arms around Michael's neck. Michael rested his hands on his hips. "I love it so much. But it's so much. How much did you spend? Let me pay you back."

"No, don't. Most of it's stuff I fixed from broken stuff or I got for super cheap, I barely spent $300 over the last year," he said. He purposefully left out what he spent on the more decorative things, those could simply be gifts from all the birthdays he missed.

"Still," Alex said, swallowing hard as he reached out and touched Michael's cheek. Michael leaned into it. He hadn't realized how successful he'd been at distracting himself from missing Alex until then. "This is all so nice. I-I don't even know what to say. I didn't expect this at all."

"I mean... I just didn't like that it looked like an angry old man lived here, I get enough of that with Sanders," Michael said. He was struggling to see what about the dumb little things made Alex emotional. In fact, they were selfish. He wanted to pretend Alex wasn't a million miles away. That was as selfish as it got. But Alex laughed and kissed him and Michael stopped feeling guilty.

"Thank you," Alex gushed against his lips, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Everything about this was completely contrary to Alex's last visit home. It wasn't confusing or blurry and he felt safe. He felt loved. He clung to Alex and kissed him hard, trying to quench the desperate, overwhelming feeling in his stomach.

"I gotta take a shower, I'm gross from that fucking plane and I need to be clean for the things I  wanna do to you," Alex breathed, pulling away just a little. Michael nodded, going in for another kiss anyway. Alex giggled and leaned back. "It'll be quick, I promise."

"I worked all day, I need one too, so let me join?" Michael asked. Pleaded, really. He didn't want to let go.

"Good idea," Alex said, "Do you have a security system set up?"

"It's next on my list," Michael said honestly. Alex grinned, cupping his cheek in his hand and slowly starting to pull him to the bathroom.

"Good boy."

-

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything and you know it."

Alex huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Michael loved seeing him like that. His hair was slightly past regulation, laying on his forehead and smashed against the pillow. After a long shower and stumbling into bed, they'd finally wore themselves out. Now they were in bed in Alex's house.

Their house.

Alex shifted to face him, face a little too serious consider the circumstances. Michael slowly faded to seriousness to fit it. Alex reached out, fingers grazing Michael's cheek and down his neck, over his shoulder, down to his torn up hand. Michael very quickly got serious and watched him pull his hand up to his lips.

"It's embarassing," Alex said.

"Since when have I been known to judge you?" Michael asked, stretching his leg out to wedge between Alex's. Alex parted his knees just enough to lock their legs together.

"I just... I've been thinking about my dad," Alex whispered.

"Uh oh," Michael said, trying to lighten the mood. Alex rolled his eyes.

"I've been trying to work through all my issues, I guess, since I realized you were staying here. I want this to work, you know?" Alex said and Michael was all ears, "And I think I didn't realize he was a bad guy until I saw him do this."

"What do you mean?" Michael said before he could process if that was a smart thing to ask.

"Like, I spent so many years thinking that my mom was the bad one because she left and at least my dad was there. It didn't matter if he beat me as long as he was there," Alex explained. Michael didn't really understand, but, with all the things they felt that overlapped, it was fine if he didn't understand that one thing. "And I... Even when I rebelled, I just wanted his approval. Part of me still does. I think I always will. Which is stupid because all the attention he gives me is solely on his terms, especially when it's positive."

"He's not worth it."

"I know," Alex said, smiling slightly before he kissed his hand again, "Logically, I know. But illogically... I'm still trying to remind myself he's a bad guy. It just took me so long to see it."

Michael didn't say anything, simply nodded and let Alex touch him as he needed to keep himself calm. Whatever kept him in bed, kept him in their space. He didn't know how long Alex was going to be home and he was too scared to ask, so he didn't.

"But, I'm trying," Alex sighed, looking at him in the eyes. He was so intense with every look and sometimes Michael felt compelled to look away, but not in moments like this. Never in moments like this. "I don't want to mess this up by trying to please him."

"I don't wanna fuck up either."

"I think we're on a good track, though," Alex smiled, tightening his legs and tugging Michael impossibly close. Just where he wanted to be. "Off topic, but I'm hungry."

Michael laughed softly and was incredibly thankful for a subject change. "I have leftover pasta in the fridge if you want that."

Alex smiled ridiculously wide for something as meaningless as day old pasta.

"Leftovers," Alex repeated in a whimsical tone, "You're gonna make a good little househusband."

"Shut the fuck up," Michael laughed, shoving his shoulder. Alex laughed right back and moved to get up. Michael followed suit without question. There was no way he was leaving his side.

"Let's eat."

-

Michael woke up to his alarm and an empty bed.

Panic struck him and he thought about calling out for Alex, but his voice wouldn't work as if subconsciously knowing the answer. Terrified, even. He slowly pushed himself out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans. Dread continued to pool in him as he tiptoed out of the room and into the empty living room. But it smelled like coffee which was definitely a good sign.

It took him only a few seconds to see that Alex was out on the back porch in one of the rocking chairs. His heart seemed to skip a beat or two or four. The sun hit his shirtless body perfectly and he seemed to fucking glow. Michael had to take a few deep breaths before he stepped outside.

""Morning," Alex hummed, looking over at him. His hair was still a mess, but he looked better rested than Michael had seen him in a long time.

"I thought you left," he said stupidly. Alex shook his head.

"I can't really sleep in anymore and I didn't wanna wake you up. Sorry if I scared you."

"It's okay," he said. And it really, really was. This was the perfect sight to see in the morning and it made him angry at Sanders for employing him. "I, uh, I have to go to work. I can call in, though."

"Don't," Alex said with a warm smile, "I'll be here when you get home."

Michael felt his whole body heat up at that. Home. Alex would be here. He wasn't sure he would actually believe it until he saw it.

"Yeah, uh," Michael said, clearing his throat, "How-how, like, how long are you..."

"Michael," Alex said, standing up and walking closer. Michael was going to melt if he kept saying his name. Alex kept his mug firmly in one hand and touched his cheek with the other. "I'm home for a month."

"A month," Michael breathed. Alex smiled and nodded, leaning forward to kiss him. It sounded like a short period of time, but it would be longest consecutive time they'd ever spent together. Ever. It sounded fake.

"So, go to work. I'm not going anywhere," he promised. It was hard to listen, but he did.

And you know what? Alex was home when he got there that afternoon.

-

"Where the fuxk are you living?"

"Airstream."

Michael spoke casually as Isobel stood by his feet as he worked on the car. He knew it was wrong to lie to her about something like this, but, fuck, he was barely sure this was real himself. He'd woken up to Alex for three whole weeks and he only had one left. He wasn't wasting that time and he wasn't bursting his domestic bubble.

"Stop lying to me! You haven't lived at the airstream for months now," Isobel argued, "You're never here at night and if I call you, it takes you for fucking ever to get to my house. Where are you staying?"

He sighed, trying to ignore her more and more. It didn't work very well as she stood her ground and basically decided she would follow him when he left work if he didn't tell her.

"It's a cabin outside of town, okay?" he caved, deciding on a half-truth. He didn't need to say it was Alex's.

"A cabin?" Isobel asked skeptically, "And you just haven't told me or shown me? What if something happens? I need to know where to find you, Michael."

"Fine, fine, okay?" he sighed, "Just, give me a week. It's a fucking wreck."

"You promise?" she asked. He nodded. "Good."

If he couldn't keep his home a secret, he could at least keep Alex to himself for a little while. He could deal with that later. In a week, his house would be empty. In a week, his bed would be empty.

He could deal with her then.

-

The bed was a lot of colder than he remembered.

-

January 30th, 2017 at 21:45.

Or, at least that's when Michael found out. The actual event happened on the 26th, a bombing injuring 30 Airmen and killing 3. There wasn't an article about it and he didn't receive a call. Instead, when he was stalking one of the mothers of a guy in Alex's group, he saw she posted about the bombing and saying her son was one of the lucky ones and thanking God. Michael nearly had a breakdown.

He spent the next hour calling Alex and when that didn't work, he started calling down a list of military hospitals. He found him eventually at Landstuhl and had to lie about being his brother to get him on the phone along with a warning about him being drugged up. But at least he was alive.

"Alex?" Michael whispered. Once again, he found him scared that Alex wouldn't answer. But he's spent an hour panicking and he wasn't about to just not talk.

"Huh?" Alex said, voice hoarse. Michael closed his eyes, bowing his head. It was small, but it was something.

"Hey," Michael croaked, doing his best not to cry. He wanted to go see him. He couldn't. It didn't work that way. As nice as it was when they pretended they didn't have a care in they world, they did have a care. His name was Jesse Manes. Not to mention the giant alien hole he hadn't even told Alex about... "You scared me."

"Sorry," Alex said. Michael breathed in deep.

"No, it's okay. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he whined, "I wanna see you "

Michael looked up, blinking away tears as quick as he could. It was difficult, but he managed it. He could cry later.

"I know, I wanna see you too. Maybe you can come home soon and I can," Michael suggested. Alex hummed a noncommittal tune. "So, uh, what all happened? Did you get, um, get burned or something?"

"A little," Alex said. Michael swallowed harshly. "Hey, you know what they did? They took my leg."

Michael's breath caught in his throat.

"What?"

"My leg," Alex repeated, that sort of dazed tone in his voice, "Couldn't save it, had to go."

Michael didn't know what to say. He didn't know how he was supposed to react to this. There wasn't a handbook. Instead of letting himself react like he was the one who lost something, he fed off of Alex's tone.

"How do you feel about that?" Michael asked. Alex hummed.

"My foot itched all day and there was nothing to scratch."

Michael huffed a laugh, rubbing the hell of his hand beneath his eyes to try to get rid of the tears.

"Well, if that's the worst of it, sounds like you're doing good."

"They gave me so many drugs," Alex told him, yawning halfway through. Michael smiled and nodded even though he couldn't see him. "I'm tired."

"Do you want me to let you go to sleep?" Michael asked. Alex didn't answer and that felt like an answer enough. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Mhm."

"I love you so much," Michael said. He didn't think about it, he just said it. It needed to be said.

"Mhm."

Michael huffed another laugh again, "Goodnight, Alex."

He ended the call and looked around the house that he'd spent over a year of his life renovating. He tried to picture Alex in it again, a version of Alex who might need accessibilities he didn't think of when he did things the first time around.

And now he had new projects.

-

Turns out it was pretty easy to widen doorways.

It took Michael about two days to widen one Interior door, ripping off the door frame and sawing through the wall itself. He widened them all from 30" to 38" in width and felt thankful that the exterior doors were all double doors. He didn't even know if Alex would be using a wheelchair, but it felt like a safe option regardless.

He ripped out the tub from the bathroom, replacing it with one with a little more traction on the bottom. He installed bars all around the bathroom and a wooden seat that was attached to the wall so it could fold up or down when he needed it. 

Again, he found himself taking a lap around the porch to check for any loose boards or nails. He fixed any that even might've been questionable. It gave him the idea to add ramps beside the steps to the porch. He built them and jumped on them as hard as he could go make sure they didn't break.

It helped when he got angry–ngry at something, angry at nothing, angry at everything–to put things back together again. It made him feel useful even when phone calls consisted of Alex being short with him and hanging up. He was focusing on PT and learning how to use a prosthetic and Michael knew it was frustrating. He could hear it in his voice even when he refused to talk about it. He always refused to talk about it. Some days he refused to talk at all.

He refused to let it out distance between them.

On extra bad days, Michael would drink and Google random accessibility ideas. He knew Alex. As sweet as he thought his renovating for him was, he knew Alex would be too stubborn to ask him for help on anything. He wanted to make it so he didn't have to as much as possible. Open spaces, all but gluing the rug down, a bench at the foot of the bed, a chair in the bathroom, a stool with wheels in the kitchen, sanding down the sharp edges of the kitchen table, dumb shit that might help maybe once.

He was trying because Alex was trying. They still wanted to make this work.

And they were going to no matter what.

[daydream-believin]

Sure Took You Long Enough, Babe

Summary: (wlw) Reader pulls an all-nighter with coworker Zoe

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, uh i think i remember mentioning people doing drugs, that trademark wlw obliviousness

Word Count: 4374

a/n: g-g-gorlfren... *slaps roof of fic* this baby can fit so many gay fantasy tropes in it. yes, the bars in cali stay open till 4am idk

Your alarm blared it’s cheery tune, startling you awake. Strangely enough, the happy melody never inspired happiness, just rage. Yet, ever the eager beaver, you shot right up and slammed the button as you slid out of bed, not allowing yourself to dilly-dally. As much as you’d like to stay asleep for three more hours at the least, you forced yourself into a good start for the day. Today was the first day of your new part-time job at Hextech, and lucky you, you got the morning shift. Curse of being fresh meat, you supposed. As long as you could make it through the day without getting too terribly hazed, you’d be fine.

Back home in Arcadia Oaks for the summer, you’d needed a new job or you’d go crazy. What were you supposed to do? Relax? Nah. You’d start taking double shifts as soon as you could. It was a bit tricky finding somewhere that would be a good fit for you. Okay, that was a lie. It was a bit tricky finding somewhere that would even be willing to hire you, apparently. Really knocked your pride down a few pegs.

By a strike of fortune, you had been catching up with one of your old high school buddies over coffee yesterday. You know, the one you used to hang out in the graveyard and practice tarot reading with? Yeah, Evan. It was nice to be able to talk to someone who was just as excited as you were that My Chemical Romance was back. When you two ordered, he pulled out that old joke about taking his coffee black like his soul and it still made you laugh as much as it did in high school. Evan was doing good, new boyfriend, new job, new band. You felt happy for your friend. You were happy that he was happy. He deserved it.

After you’d lamented that you couldn’t find work, he told you about how lately he’d been working for that electronic store Hextech. Not subtly named, was it? He’d told you about how it was run by hedgewizards like you two. They only hired through connections, since they were a magical company run by magical people. You, thankfully, had one of those connections. Your buddy put in a good word for you and, just like that, you were in. They put you on the schedule crazy fast. Like, the first shift of the very next day fast. Good. You were going out of your mind having so much free time. Your relatives were starting to ask you *shutter* questions about your personal life.

You looked in the mirror, slicked back your hair into a neat style, and admired how you looked in your new work shirt. Of course, it would eventually join the trophy quilt of old work shirts you were making, but for now it was nice and new. A pretty baby blue, it will go well sewed next to the royal blue Domino’s shirt from last semester. You added about a dozen earrings to your ears as a finishing touch and headed downstairs. After downing your coffee and hastily scarfing down a still-warm blueberry muffin, you kissed your grandmother’s cheek goodbye as you headed out the door. You tossed a crumpled muffin to the crows waiting by the front door. The greedy bastards inhaled every crumb. As much as you loved having a job again, the sun was still asleep when you started your walk to work. Fuck that.

As you walked through the door at Hextech, you were astonished to see the absolute angel who was waiting there for you. An absolute angel who looked kinda hungover, actually. Well, it was 6 AM on a Sunday. The doors didn’t actually open to customers until seven, but you were here at the ass-crack of dawn so she could train you some before throwing you to the customer wolves. Said pink-haired angel introduced herself as Zoe. What a fitting name for someone as cute and feisty as her. You had to catch yourself from staring too much into her striking blue eyes, that reminded you of lightning, pure electricity, before she caught you. And really, they were distracting. It was hard to focus on what she was telling you, which was a bad thing since she was giving you vital information. You forced yourself to focus. As much as you could.

After going over the ropes of working the wizard-bar, she took you through a cool hidden door to show you around the back. The back had such wonderful rooms as the kitchen that someone microwaved fish in yesterday, workrooms, one of which had a poor guy who looked like her never left last night, tinkering away at some techy-thing, the room Zoe introduced as the room she went to scream in, and a common-room type thing with a sick floor to ceiling screen (or was it a window?), depicting a soothing nature scene. She told you that after you had been working in the front for a while and proved yourself, your bosses would move you up to the repairs and phone troubleshooting. Maybe even invention if you were talented enough. That filled you with dread, despite the inspiration it was supposed to be. You had to admit, you knew almost nothing about the technical/repairs side of electronics and you did not belong here. You were more of a coding/hacking type of hedgewizard. You’d have to fake it till you make it. You were sure Zoe could tell you were bullshitting through this, but thankfully she was gracious enough not to call you out on it. Although, you didn’t mind that impish grin that found it’s place on her face.

Damn. You did not need to get involved with a coworker. No matter how enchanting she was. Or how pretty. This was just a summer job. You would be moving back across California for school soon enough and you were not going to do long-distance again. Although, is a few hours really that long? Definitely not as long as your last relationship. Shut up shut up shut up. No. You don’t even know if this chick is into girls, don’t get ahead of yourself. Mmm, she is very pretty though. You can admire from afar. What’s the harm in that?

There was much, much harm. Stars, you had it bad. You had only been at Hextech for a month now and it felt like hell. Perhaps it was hell. Maybe you were dead, and this was your eternal punishment. Damned to forever pine after the loveliest wizard you had ever met. She took a liking to you instantly too, inviting you out for drinks that first night, and every weekend after that. And she’d invited you over to her place for movie nights and to hang out with her friends. Some nights she’d take you to go dancing with her. She’d taken to calling you Baby. Perfectly normal things for gals being pals right. You guessed this is what girl besties do. You wouldn’t know, you’d only ever really hung with guys. Really feminine goth guys, sure, but guys nonetheless. She seemed hellbent on spending time with you. Not that you were complaining, but it just made your emotions stronger. And harder to shove back into the abyss.

~ ~ ~

One Friday night, you two were just chilling up in your bedroom. A rest before one of coworker’s birthday party tomorrow night. Zoe was telling you that she really wanted to try out a new makeup technique. And you told her she could try it out on you. The joy that painted itself across her features is something that will be burned into your memory forever. But not as high a degree of burn as what came next. Zoe straddled your waist, eyeliner pen in hand, and pushed you back against the headboard so she could better reach your eyes. Your breath caught in your throat. You were helpless to do anything but stare at her face that was in super close proximity to yours. You were caught in a trance as you obeyed when she told you to do this or that so she could properly apply the makeup. Her pink lips were pursed in concentration, and her pink banged strayed into her face. Her signature pink style matched the pink of your cheeks. You were sure she could feel your heart pounding, her elbows were on your chest, basically. She moved on to eyeshadow. Weird, you were always an eyeshadow first kinda person but who were you to critique this goddess’s methods. As she rolled on the perfectly matching lipstick onto your lips, you couldn’t help but think about this being an indirect kiss. This lipstick has been all over her lips and now it’s on yours? Stars.

Once she was finished with her masterpiece, she leaned back to take a good look at it. You felt the heat blaze under your skin as her blue eyes scanned your face. Finally, she seemed satisfied and nodded. Zoe helped you up and you went to go check it out in the mirror hanging on your wall. It was brightly colored, garish even, yet perfect, in your opinion. Like Zoe’s personality distilled into something you could wear. She crept up behind you and put her hands on your shoulders as you both admired her skills.

“My best work yet if I do say so, Y/n,” She grinned like a Cheshire cat, “Hmm, I know it’s already like, 3 in the morning and we’re supposed to be relaxing, but we should go and show this off.”

You both had a shift in four hours but you didn’t know how to say no to those eyes. “Alright, Zo,”

You grabbed your jackets on the way out, careful not to wake any of the other inhabitants of the house, but unable to keep the giggles in. Zoe had thought it would be fun to swap jackets, and you weren’t going to say no to that. Her jacket was cozy, black leather, and smelled of her rosy perfume. You never wanted to take it off. When you put it on, her eyes lingered on your form, commenting how good it made you look. You were very thankful for the cover of darkness that hid your flush, rosy like her perfume. You thought she looked marvelous in yours too, but you weren’t as brave in order to say that out loud.

Suddenly you were in some club across town, being introduced to Zoe’s friend Mimi who was working the bar that night. Mimi looked you up and down, then cocked her brows and clicked her tongue, while nodded to Zoe? Who turned pink and angrily said something under her breath to her friend. You couldn’t make out what she said over the music, you were too busy trying not to put too much weight on this interaction. Telling your heart to stop jumping. Jumping just gets you hurt. Mimi snickered as she scurried off to the other side of the bar to fix up your drinks after Zoe finished her rant. She turned back to you and laughed nervously, leaning on the bar.

“That Mimi. What a card.” You nodded in response, not sure what to say.

You three chatted while you sipped at your drinks. Zoe had ordered you something fruity, sweet, and vibrantly colored. It was very tasty, whatever it was. Must have had a high percentage because your head was already fuzzy with just this one. You stopped after finishing it, not fancying being drunk at work, but Zoe got another. Her alcohol tolerance was way stronger than yours. You fucking lightweight. Mimi had started cleaning up since the bar closed soon. Zoe grabbed your hand unexpectedly.

“How about we dance until we get kicked out, Babe?” She said with a sparkle in her eye.

“Uh- y- yeah,” was all you managed to get out before she pulled you over to the dance floor. It was almost vacant, since it was nearing 4am and most people had either moved on for the night, passed out on one of the club’s couches, or were getting their fix in the bathroom. Nice. It was like the floor was just for you two. Zoe was really jazzed, spinning you around to whatever trashy party song was playing. It was infectious. Her energy, not the song. You were having a lot of fun with the pink girl dancing with you. She tossed her hair back laughing at one point. Right then and there, you decided to throw all those things stopping you out the window. If you missed her come fall, you’d just drive the trip to see her. It would be worth it.

The other trio of people who had been dancing left, and now it really was just you two. It would have felt like just you two even if the floor was full. As the current song ended, the DJ looked at you in sympathy. “Alright guys, this is the last song okay, we close in ten.” He switched it to a Viper song.

“OH! I love this song!” Zoe’s smile got even bigger. You didn’t know that was possible. Somehow, she got an energy boost too. You had completely no idea how the firecracker you were with could stay lit well into the morning. If it wasn’t for your manic pixie dream girl here, you’d be groggy by now. She flittered around you, having a blast. It was adorable. She mouthed the words of the song to you, which would have been rather cute if they hadn’t been considerably sexual lyrics. You felt that blush come back for the umpteenth time that night. And she had that impish grin plastered across her face again, like she knew what she was doing. Zoe had gotten closer to you as the song winded down, you hadn’t noticed until it faded out altogether. Your eyes were wide. She booped your nose, giggling. You blinked, surprised. You felt your heart squeeze at how fucking cute that was.

She took your hand again as she pulled you over to go give Mimi a quick hug goodbye before you two left. You still had two and a half hours to kill until your shifts started at six thirty. Zoe’s favourite coffee house wouldn’t be open until five. As much as a nap sounded good right now, you both knew that it would just make you sleepier. And grumpier from being woken up after such a short time. Might as well pull out an old goth kid staple.

“Wanna go hang around in the graveyard?”

~ ~ ~

Zoe tossed her head back laughing so hard she hit the gravestone she was leaning against.

“Oof, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” She rubbed her head and turned back to look check the name on the engraving, “Sorry Howard.”

“It’s too late, he’s offended now and he’s gonna haunt us,” you snickered, “Nice going, Zo.”

“Don’t worry Baby, I’ve been working on my exorcism skills. You know, since a certain dumbass brought spirits into the party last week.” Ah, Douxie, what a guy. Of course he hadn’t meant to ruin everyone’s night and release those ghosts. It just sort of happened. He was accident prone and you didn’t understand why people trusted him with cursed stuff like that to begin with. Luckily, within the number of wizards gathered, you guys were eventually able to find a way to banish all the spirits before any real harm came of it. It wasn’t a bad way to spend a Friday night. You got to live out your childhood dream of being a ghostbuster.

You looked around. The cemetery wasn’t as spooky as most people thought it was. Sure, there were strange noises, and endless headstones with disembodied names that meant nothing, and creepy mausoleums that cast big shadows in the moonlight, and a creaky gate that swung back and forth whether there was wind or not, but it wasn’t scary. Well, maybe that was just because you’d spent most nights of your teen years here, so you were desensitized to it. Zoe didn’t seem to mind it one bit either.

You glanced up and saw three of your crow friends on the top of the mausoleum across from you and Zoe. If crows could smirk these would be smirking. Fuckers. They were always around whenever you’d go out with Zoe. Watching so they could tease you later. Damn nosy birds. Why did you ever start feeding them. They were even there in a set of three, just to mock you. They may as well be singing “Y/n and Zoe sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

You ignored the crows, pulling out your phone and flipping to your ebook app. Because you know what would make this just like old times? Some dramatic goth poetry. What a way to woo a girl. Zoe was fond of the idea of some poetry reading too. She told you that you could pick. At first you thought to read some Poe, perhaps starting with ‘Serenade’, but decided against it lest the bastards on the roof started demanding you read them ‘the Raven’. It’s happened before. You settled on some Keats instead. And you knew the perfect poem. A poem you could put all your emotions into. The most sapphic poem ever written by a man, in your opinion. If she didn’t feel the same, you could always deny it and say that you were just getting way into character. Either way it was going to make work weird, but you didn’t think you gave a fuck anymore. Here goes nothing.

“Had I a man’s fair form, then might my sighs

Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell

Thine ear, and find they gentle heart; so well

Would passion arm me for the enterprise:” You took a big gulp of air. Zoe’s gaze was locked on you, and that didn’t make this any less nerve-wracking. You could feel your hands shaking. “But ah! I am no knight whose foreman dies;

No cuirass glistens on my bosom’s swell;

I am no happy shepherd of the dell

Whose lips have trembled with a maiden’s eyes.” With those words, a sudden burst of boldness in your heart caused you to take her hand. Must be the alcohol. Yes, that which hath made them drunk hath made you bold. Zoe didn’t appear to be breathing anymore. You looked back into her electric blue eyes. “Yet must I dote upon thee, --call thee sweet,

Sweeter by far than Hybla’s honied roses

When steeped in dew rich to intoxication

Ah! I will taste that dew, for me ‘tis meet,” Your voice became breathy as you uttered these last verses. “And when the moon her pallid face discloses,

I’ll gather some by spells, and incantation.” You just froze there, breathing. The ball was in Zoe’s court now. Speak of the devil, she was really close, like really close. When did she get so close. You hadn’t realized. She lifted a finger to your face and brushed a loose strand of hair behind you ear. Your breath caught in your throat. She drew closer, your noses touching now. Her eyes slipped down into a half lid. Your eyes flicked to her lips and she watched you. It occurred to you that she was waiting for you to close the gap. So you did.

It was fireworks. Of course, you were kissing a firecracker herself. It was a sweet kiss, but laced with that fire. You both pulled back for air, but quickly returned to each other’s lips. Zoe’s hands drifted down to your hips and she pulled you into her lap, leaning back up against that headstone. And now you were snogging in the cemetery. Mary Shelley would be proud. Howard, however, was probably pissed off for sure now.

Your breaths mingled as you gasped for air. Zoe caressed your cheek, cupping your face. She chuckled, “It sure took you long enough, Babe. I was starting to think I’d have to spell it out for you.”

You all but collapsed back into her arms, exasperated. Stars, it sure did take you long enough, didn’t it. You could hear and feel Zoe’s snort through her chest. You raised back up to gaze into those baby blues. A pang of adoration shot through your heart like one of cupid’s cursed arrows.

“How about I buy coffee, for our first official date?” Zoe agreed to your offer. You got off of her, legs wobbling like a baby deer. Speaking of deer, you were happy to see that the herd that usually hangs out here in the graveyard in the early hours was peacefully grazing around you two. You hadn’t noticed them come in, too busy snogging. You reached out a hand and helped Zoe up. You two brushed the grass off your clothes and gave one last apology to Howard before setting off for the coffee shop. Zoe checked her phone for the time. It was 5:23, you two still had almost a full hour to spend lounging in the coffeeshop before you had to head off to Hextech. Zoe reached for your hand as you walked back to Zoe’s bike. You threaded your fingers together. Something as small as that shouldn’t have felt as nice as it did. But it did.

You completely adored riding on the back of Zoe’s motorcycle. You got to cling to her, arms around her waist, pretending that you were holding her for romantic reasons and not so you wouldn’t fall off a moving automobile. You wouldn’t have to just pretend any longer now. The thought made you giddy. And now that you think about it, that was probably why Zoe had insisted on giving you rides everywhere for the past month. You were so fucking oblivious. It was painful. Thank the stars above she was patient with you. You snuggled further into her back, inhaling that rosy perfume. It truly was intoxicating, Keats. A girl could get used to this.

~ ~ ~

The coffee house barista recognized you two as you walked in and started making your orders that he had memorized. He greeted you cordially as you handed over the cash. He looked down at Zoe’s hand joined with yours, raising his eyebrows teasingly but not saying anything. Did everyone in this fucking town know about you two before you did? You think you might have beaten that Parisian catboy at his own game. How embarrassing.

Zoe got cozy on you guy’s usual couch while you carried over the coffee. After you set the mugs on the coffee table and plopped down, Zoe swung her legs up onto the couch, and over your lap. Didn’t exactly take you by surprise. Zoe often sat like this. You were used to it. Wait, was this also flirting? Stars, you didn’t even know anymore. This was so confusing. She noticed the face journey you had taken with the internal struggle, and grinned, shrugging her arm around your shoulders to ease you. You snatched your cup of the table and downed as much as you could handle before it got too hot. You were still really nervous, despite her being very clear about how she felt, and Zoe thought that was pretty funny.

“So, we’re gonna have to say something to people tonight,” Zoe started.

You just nodded in response. Hopefully this wasn’t going to make anything weird. You hadn’t been working at Hextech long enough to know how the dynamics worked. Maybe someone had been pining after Zoe too and now hated you. Maybe someone was Zoe’s ex and now hated you. Maybe someone was just really homophobic and now hated you. There were plenty of possibilities, you could go on.

“I was thinking we should wear these matching dresses I found last week, and sort of bought already, to double our cute couple factor.” She had murmured that middle part but you still heard it loud and clear. You had to hold back a squeak. That was so sweet. And adorable. She just saw the dresses in the shop and thought to herself ‘I want to wear that with Y/n’? You could die right now. You settled for downing more of that coffee.

“Yes! That’s so cool? I- What color are they?” You didn’t know how to handle this.

Zoe pulled out her phone and leaned over to show you the pics she took of them. They were matching, made of the same brown floral-patterned fabric, but different styles. Either one would go great with Zoe’s leather jacket, which you were still wearing. You’d go for your denim one. Not the purple jacket that currently hung off Zoe’s shoulders. The colors wouldn’t clash but the style of it would. This was going to be awesome, anyways. Matching dresses, telling your friends the best news you’ve had all year, having fun at the party, not having to spend the whole night miserably shoving your feelings aside? You couldn’t wait.

“Which one do you want?” You picked the looser, more flowy one. Zoe was more comfortable with tight stuff that showed off her body. You had a sneaking suspicion she already knew you’d pick that one, and was giving you the illusion of choice. It was sweet, really. Your phone alarm went off, alerting you that it was time to start the walk for work. All the relaxing time was gone. A crying shame, but you’d still get to spend the day with your favourite person just the same, so not truly that big of a loss. Albeit, Zoe didn’t look too pleased to have to go back to work. Laughing, you stood to your feet, and held out your arm for her to link through.

“Shall we go milady?” You two waved to the barista as you headed out the door. “I think you should do our makeup for the party again, really show off this time.” Zoe perked up, excited at the prospect as Hextech neared.

“And I’ll show off my hot new girlfriend too.” There was that damned blush again.

[multi-fandom-writer]

Cute Dates - p.p.

My Masterlist

warnings: tooth rotting fluff and a little protective irondad!

word count: 1.5k

pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Daughter

a/n: so this takes place in its own universe, and I think you’ll understand why once you start reading!

From watching the sunsets on the top of Avengers headquarters to sparring Peter to help him train, you were never bored on your dates with Peter. He was always excited to cuddle up with you on the couch to watch a movie, too, but those kinds of dates were usually saved for rainy days. Unfortunately, Peter was running out of ideas for dates with you. He wanted to make sure you had a good time when he was with you, and he was always open for trying new things. 

So far, the two of you had tried karaoke dates, wine and canvas dates (minus the wine), movie dates, and almost anything else you could think of. Even though he was running out of ideas, he had a few more tricks up his sleeve before asking Aunt May or Happy (or Tony if it really came down to that) for help. 

The Friday of your Spring break, Peter told you to wear something cute as he would be treating you to date. When he picked you up, he refused to tell you anything he had planned. Happy dropped you two off at one of the strip malls and Peter started leading you through the crowds. As soon as you saw the store, you knew exactly what Peter had planned, or so you thought.

“You’re bringing me on a Build-a-Bear date?” asked, gently squeezing his hand and offering him a smile.

“I thought you might enjoy it. But, don’t worry, this isn’t the only thing we’re doing today,” he replied, walking into the store with you. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as busy as you thought it would be. Memories of your childhood came flooding back to you as you took in the familiar place. “What bear are you going to make?” he asked as he led you over to the selection.

You picked up one that looked like a unicorn, but ultimately decided against it when you spotted the perfect one. Letting go of Peter’s hand, you showed him the Iron Spider bear that you had chosen. “I think I like this one,” you spoke with a cheeky smile. You were waiting for Peter to take you swinging around the city, but he was still hesitant. He claimed he didn’t want to drop you or hurt you. Both you and him knew your father would never let you hear the end of it if you did get hurt.

Peter chuckled and held up an Iron Man bear. “I think we can get started then, Sunshine.” His smile lit up your world. As the two of you started to stuff your bears, you couldn’t help but take in your perfect boyfriend. His hair was messy, but you loved to run your fingers through the tangled curls while cuddling with him. His eyes weren’t a bright blue or a glowing green, but they sparkled when the evening sunlight hit them just right. They were the perfect weapon of his when he wanted to cuddle but you had to finish your homework. Your eyes wandered down to his hands, which seemed to fit perfectly in your own. His skin was always soft, too, and you wondered how that was. The smile that had made its permanent home across his lips was perfect and matched that of a child’s. It lit up the room and seemed to be more than just contagious. It was vibrant and gave you something more than just butterflies; it made your stomach do flips.

You decided to put a beating heart in your Spider-bear as you thought it matched Peter down to a tee. Peter had even managed to convince you to add the cupcake scent. “It’s because you’re my sweet little cupcake,” he said, planting a kiss on the side of your head. After the Build-a-Bear date, Happy was ready to pick you two up again. You noticed his eyes flick to the stuffed bears in your hands before trying to suppress a smile. Happy and May were both very supportive of your relationship, but Tony and Pepper were a little more hesitant with it. 

For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why. Sure, Peter was involved in a few dangerous things, but there was no doubt that he was on the right side of the law. He was great with Morgan, too, which was more than what you could say for yourself. Morgan looked at Peter like he painted the stars in the sky for her every single night. In her defense, Peter always loved to make a swing out of his webs for her to play on. He even started trying to make little animals out of his webs for her, but that was a work in progress. He could, however, make a snake and something that roughly resembled a very fat bear (it was closer to being a blob, but Peter was trying his best).

Happy’s voice broke your thoughts, “You two might want to get comfortable, it’s going to be a little bit of a drive.” 

With that, Peter was more than happy to rest his arm around your shoulders and pull you closer to him. You gently leaned into his chest with your spider bear still clutched tightly against yours. “This isn’t the end of our date?” You asked, reaching your hand up to Peter’s.

His finger intertwined with yours as he answered, “of course it isn’t, dear.” He placed a gentle kiss on the side of your head. You were still waiting for your first kiss with Peter, but you were patient. You wanted it to be perfect just as much as he did.

At first he was hesitant to kiss your cheek, your forehead, and even the back of your hand. You appreciated how Peter always asked permission before touching you (and your father did, too), but you eventually told Peter to just surprise you when he wanted to kiss you. You had to admit, it was nice being surprised when he peppered your face in kisses to wake you up. Peter was a gentleman that believed that touching a woman without her permission made you the scum of the Earth. It took a little convincing for him to realize that you were comfortable with him doing that, but he was excited to surprise you. 

“So where are we going for the final part of our date?” you asked, trying to get an answer from him.

Peter just shook his head, “it’s a surprise, cupcake.” You blushed at his nickname for you. “You’re adorable when you blush, y’know that?” The compliment surprised you. Peter was still learning to break out of his shell, but he was totally comfortable with you. He felt safe to be himself around you, and he was a little cheeky. The smirk on his face told you everything; Peter was proud to make you blush. Nothing made him happier than having you bury your face in his chest in a fit of giggles. 

After what felt like an hour, Happy finally pulled the car over. Peter gestured for you to leave the stuffed bear on the seat as he helped you out of the car. You noticed the setting sun was shining beautifully on Peter’s fluffy hair. He was starting to need a haircut; it was falling in his eyes a little bit. However, the dusk light was making his brown eyes look gorgeous. You could almost kiss him. Almost. He led you over to a picnic set up overlooking the city lights, which were just barely shining against the glaring sunset. 

You could feel your stomach fluttering as Peter gently tugged you down to sit next to him and wrapped one of his arms around you. “This is beautiful, Peter,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head.

His cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he looked at you, “all for you, my sunshine.” He slowly reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a container of chocolate covered strawberries. “I know they’re your favorite,” he said, pulling the lid off and setting them in your lap. 

“You’re amazing. I love this so much,” you spoke, taking a bite of one of the strawberries.

"Well, I wanted it to be special for my favorite girl," he whispered, gently pulling you closer to him. 

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “You mean the world to me, Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“You are my world, y/n,” he replied. He peppered the side of your head in kisses, signalling that he wanted your attention. You looked up at him and you were met with his beautiful brown eyes. He smiled nervously as he leaned slightly closer to you. You felt your stomach fluttering, you knew what was coming. His lips connected with yours, a jolt of electricity running down to your toes. His hand came up to cup your cheek as your lips started to move in sync with his. Your toes curled as Peter’s teeth gently tugged on your bottom lip and he pulled away ever so slightly. His warm breath fanned across your cheeks as he whispered, “how was that?”

You couldn’t help but answer, “amazing, and so worth the wait.”

-

tagging: @perspectiveparker @mrs-hollandstan