#i hope this works! my brain was frying trying to think of anything so hopefully this is gucci

[fstbmp-a]

@foxbeemuses sent: "how am i being rude?" (sage to olympia)

misc sentence prompts #9 - accepting

It's easy to forget that Sage is a child, at the end of the day. A super AI that is assuredly smarter than Olympia could ever hope to be, perhaps, but a child nonetheless. It's why the hedgehog can't particularly blame her for the interruption, even as she had almost ran clear into a wall in surprise at the AI suddenly being beside her. That's what she got for having a phone now, she guesses...

"Well, usually you're supposed t' give a heads up 'fore you show up to hang out - 'nd also I'm kinda on the clock..."

Another downside of Olympia's new life: a job. At least it was one that meant she had a lot of wiggle room between food pick-ups and deliveries, but the bag on her back gives away that she was currently mid-dash.

"But it's all good, know y' didn't mean anythin' by it. ...Your pa ain't got access t' my phone now, does he? That might be a problem."

[oh-no-boi]

ugh mental health thoughts???

its always like... when i am unemployed and have no money, i feel so guilty over money, just depressed so bad over the cost of living.. i struggle to create but also usually can create and enjoy myself if only for a moment. a thought is like "if only i just had a job.. could make money" happens and is like wow if i had money, depression would go away

but then if i am working some job, im so tired. and after a bit so overwhelmed my brain begins to fry itswlf. i can barely even do chores which sure i struggle with before but here its like oh i cant even wash the dishes. and i cant create, or barely which feels the same. any money i make, so much starts to get spent on takeout bc im so tired i cant cook, i feel like all my cooking progress is decimated lmao and then i want to buy more shit that before the lack of money was curbing a little bit, now its like oh but im so tired.. a new pen would make me feel better, a new pencil case, a new shirt, a new hoodie— and i mean i wanted these things before but like the moderation deteriorates lol

basically i kno this pattern. it doesnt change. its hard to believe in it whenever im in one or the other phase (meanong working vs not) bc its always like But no the other one was better! and no both suck, both are miserable af.

nothing helps this depression or whatever it is. both are just bad. i mean having free time is great, one might almost say its better but the mental bad brain shit with it is also just supwr brutal.

i feel just stuck.. i legit dunno if its possible to have a job where i wont feel like i cant go on. i wanna say an art job would be better but honestly who fucking knows?? bc doing commissions also fucks me up, i always think it wont be that bad (and its not always) but its not like better.

i feel like i cant change anything for myself. just gotta hope for universal income to become a thing hopefully or live miserably for ever, finding momentary joy, or just idk die lol

anyway as always i just need a little treat, i am trying so hard while also being "lazy"

mom is always like "u'll adjust" and i feel like.. yeah i'll "adjust" but will still be imploding every week, that basicallly never seems to go away, at least not for too long

[ryosmne]

You're gonna fry your brain.

Hello everyone, since it's finals season and we're all probably really dead inside, I decided to self indulge in some tattoo artist! Sukuna writing, so here's this brainrot that won't let me focus on studying. You can read more of this au in the au masterlist.

I've been trying so hard to finish up a bartender! Dabi fic I have in the works for too long, hopefully I can get around to it too. After finals are done I'll be writing a lot more that's for sure.

Tattoo artist! Sukuna x f!reader

Warnings: language, suggestive tones, that's it.

Finals are by far the worst thing about college, y/n knows that the hard way. She's been stressing herself out for the past few days, maybe weeks, going over the same material again and again. She'd constantly argue that she really needs to pass with an high grade that's why she's so obsessive over it.

Sukuna had tried multiple times to help her ease her nerves, he's been there, although he was the type who never really stuck his nose in a book for too long, regardless, his best girl needed a break, no matter how hard she denied it.

Y/n had declined his invitations of going out, she dropped by the shop a few times, bringing Sukuna some food, but he could tell she was slowly burning herself up.

Today was no different, y/n had been writing everything down all day to help memorize it better. So many hours has passed since she started her study session but she didn't even notice that her clock read 8 pm already.

Sukuna did notice, y/n had been barely responding back to his texts and it was time he took matters into his own hands.

The earpiercing doorbell pulled y/n out of her trance like state, she quickly got up from her desk to go and get rid of whoever just rung it.

"Dollface, I was beginning to think you had died in there."

There was Sukuna, leaning in her doorframe, looking as good as he always did, in a plan white t shirt and a gray pair of sweatpants, holding a few bags and a huge basket.

"not quite, what's all this?"

Y/n motioned to the bags he had.

"Nothing much, just some things I picked up for you, will you let me in? this basket is fucking heavy."

No, the basket wasn't that heavy, Sukuna could carry it just fine, he just wanted to make sure that y/n didn't have a chance to deny him.

Y/n stepped aside to let Sukuna in, and he went straight to her kitchen, dropping his bags on the table.

"Thanks for dropping by babe, but I really need to finish the last three chapters I have left."

"Y/n, you're going to fry your brain at this rate, no more studying for today."

"But-"

"No buts, you won't read another sentence today. We're destressing together."

Turns out, Sukuna had brought over many different things. He's not the type of guy to shy away from anything, so the first thing he did was to grab y/n and drag her into her bathroom.

Sukuna had taken mental notes the first time he looked through y/n's skincare products, he was able to determine her skin type and he went a bit crazy, buying her different things to try out.

"You are insane, that's drunk elephant, why did you get this many things?"

"Because you have the really terrible cheap stuff, now shut up you're going to eat the soap if you keep talking with cleanser all over your face."

Now, y/n's skincare wasn't bad, Sukuna had expensive taste and he's a bit of a brand snob

Sukuna gently poked her cheek with a smile as y/n's face distorted because she had in fact tasted the cleanser and Sukuna could only laugh at her before she flicked some into his mouth too.

"Don't kiss me with a face mask on you brat"

Y/n let out a soft laugh, Sukuna was doing his best to concentrate at the task at hand. Matching y/n's nail polish to his. Y/n had just finished painting his, matte black like he requested but y/n gave him some white polish on his ring finger. Sukuna had argued for a bit, saying it didn't look good and that he didn't like it, but gave in after y/n gave him a puppy face, can you blame him?

"But you look so cute like that."

Y/n complained, knowing that this little comment was going to feed Sukuna's ego more.

"I know doll, but artificial orange doesn't taste as good as it smells."

Y/n once again wasn't wrong, his cocky attitude always creeped in at times, not that she minded.

Time passed fast with watching trash reality shows on y/n's couch, after their very own self care day, Sukuna made sure to fix something they could both eat. Now they were engolved in each others arms, y/n's sleepy eyes staring up at him.

"How are you feeling, doll?"

Sukuna's hand found her hair, gently resting on top of her head.

"Much better, you're the best you know that?"

"I've heard it once or twice, I'll give you reasons to say it more often"

He gave her a gentle smile, leaning closer to steal a kiss, a little more intimate than the ones they shared earlier.

" 'Kuna, I'm sorry I was so stressed and distant this week, I probably worried you-"

"Don't be stupid, it's ok, I just want you to know I'm here for you, and it's just finals. You're a smart cookie, I'm sure you'll do great."

Y/n found his words reassuring and nuzzled closer to him, letting her lungs burn with his scent that never got less intoxicating.

"Thank you 'kuna, what would I do without you?"

The last few words came out slurred, but Sukuna understood everything, y/n's breathing got steadier against him.

"I don't know doll I'm just glad to have you here, I promised to take good care of you."

And just like that, y/n was fast asleep next to him, he didn't mind her uncomfortable couch one bit all he cared about was how at peace she looked. Maybe he would move her to her bed later, he couldn't bring himself to do it now.

The next morning, y/n found herself on her bed, Sukuna had almost woken her up getting ready before he left to go to work, but he managed to put her right back to sleep with a kiss on the forehead and a light "don't wake up yet doll".

Y/n made her way to the kitchen, Sukuna usually left a little letter for her on the nightstand by the bed, he must've been in a rush today.

Not quite the case.

Sukuna not only made her, her favourite breakfast, he also left post it notes in some places.

You suck at food shopping, thank me later.

Was written on her fridge.

So that's what all the bags were for, y/n didn't find out last night because of how tired she was, and how much fun she had being around sukuna.

He had filled up her fridge with everything she ever needed to make a meal for herself or have a snack. Let's be honest Sukuna just wanted to cook for her again.

Another post it was found in her bathroom cabinet.

You're probably gonna get mad at me for this but I'm not sorry, you deserve it.

The poor cabinet was stuffed to the brim with brand name skincare that made anyone's wallet scream in anguish and a lot of bathbombs. Upon closer look y/n almost cried at how attentive Sukuna was, he took extra care to look out for her skins needs.

Y/n found the last post it on her desk while she did her revision.

Don't overwork yourself doll, you've got me for that.

Y/n brought Sukuna cupcakes from seven different bakeries to try that day.

Bonus Domain shenanigans: "Sukuna left early again?"

Megumi asked, the day had been going pretty slow he wasn't surprised his friend dipped.

"Yeah, he left this behind though."

Geto held up a very nice looking white shop bag, a slight glimmer in his eye let the rest of his friends know he planned something.

"So? What's in it anyways?"

Gojo was resting his chin on his hand, blank expression on his face, completely unamused by Geto's discovery.

"Give me that"

Nanami swiftly snatched the bag, curious to see what was inside of it. He reached in and retrieved several wrapped round objects.

"Bathbombs?"

He questioned puzzled, but then his lips tugged upward.

Megumi, Nanami, Gojo and Geto, each got two bathbombs, and even though they would outright say it, they were pretty damn exited to drop them in their bathtubs. That's what Sukuna gets for avoiding clean up.

Sukuna entered the shop barely greeting anyone and begun looking around. Fuck he was looking for something, everyone tried to keep their composure.

"Have you seen a white bag?"

He finally looked at the group of men before him.

"like a backpack? No "

Megumi spoke, Sukuna begun thinking he was remembering everything wrong, that's untill he saw something sticking out of Geto's pocket. That's for sure a bathbomb he bought for y/n

"You motherfuckers, how low can you stoop to steal my girls bathbombs?"

Hey it's me again, though I'd add that here, if you have specific skin demands I tried to cover that in here so everyone can enjoy it, I have lots of allergies and skin concerns so I'm kinda sensitive to that stuff. Hope you had fun reading, remember to take it easy, untill next time :>

Tag list: (comment or message me and I’ll gladly add you)

@artist4theworld @skatercashew

@divineteaty

@in-inception

@not-another-ackerman

@jjk-is-my-shit @ilovemarvel99

@thegaymadafakkasworld @readinghassavedmylife @ruler-of-the-skies

@bluebananasssss

@ghost-of-todoroki

@sabsaocit

@heaveus

@jackysenpaii @rebenok-zimnayaya

@aam1na @sore-eyes@ryan249057 @goobygoobster @charlie-xo @kamisamaundercover

@shadoweepingscream

@sunfloweroranges

@haleypearce

@crapimahuman

@fiona782

@levi-ships-eruri

@chocolatecake764

@stupid-simp33 @ciphersighs

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Part 3 (Mycroft Holmes x Reader)

AN- Thank you for the patience for this one! My little boy has been unwell so it has taken a little longer than I had hoped but here is the third instalment! It’s a little shorter than the others but that’s because I wanted to contain the angsty part in one chapter, the next ones will hopefully be longer..

This one is a little more angsty, a lot more emotional, but I’m quite happy with the outcome and I hope you are too! As usual, please let me know any thoughts/feedback! And enjoy!

Word Count: 2510

"Is it just me that finds Stephen Fry a bit.. sexy?" You spoke, watching the television as Young Ones' Scumbag College competed on University Challenge. "I don't know what it is about him. He's just.. got such a lovely voice, and he's so sodding clever and his CLOTHES- got much better looking with age, mind." Mycroft only hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Hmm.. He's not really my type." You laughed and petted his head fondly.

"You don't have to be gay to find another man attractive Myc." You mused. "Me and Greg talk about it all the time, though he fancies Hugh Laurie more, especially in Blackadder." You laughed, thinking back on the memory of Greg's fondness of George in the Blackadder Goes Forth series.

"I'm aware that sexuality and attraction are not the same, Y/N. I am comfortable enough in my own heterosexuality to appreciate another man's features. In fact, I very much agree with Gregory's view on Mr Laurie. Stephen, however, is not my type. The few people that did speak to me in University used to tell me I reminded them of him in the way I behaved but, and I quote, 'without even a lick of his humour, you miserable bastard.' Thus, I cannot look at him in that way." He laughed a little and you cleared your throat.

"Oh.. uh, yeah I guess that makes sense. Not the humour part though, you're actually hilarious and they missed out big time." You tried to avoid the point where you'd deemed Stephen Fry sexy in every way he was similar to the man who was laying in your lap, and just hoped he wouldn't bring that up.

"He definitely got the looks side of things though, particularly as General Melchett in Goes Forth, though I am not particularly fond of the facial hair." He screwed up his nose in distaste, you fighting every ounce of your control to not say he looked a bit cute. "And certainly didn't have the waistline that 21 year old Mycroft had."

"Speaking in the third person now, are we? Well, Mycroft, Y/N is comfortable enough in her friendship that Y/N thinks Mycroft can be sexy in his own ways too." You teased, partly embarrassed, but equally just trying any way to improve the man's confidence, even by a little. Mycroft choked a little on his own saliva and had to sit up to regain his own breath. Too far? "Sorry." He shook his head 'no' but didn't speak. In his moments of regaining his composure, Mycroft watched you. Processed in his head what you had said- 'was it a joke?', he couldn't read anything on you that would suggest that, though his eyes were glassy from the choking- watched as you panicked, then subsiding the panic to concern as you made sure he was okay. All these things, he thought, he didn't deserve. He took a deep breath and reached for the television remote, pausing the show and settling back on the other side of the sofa. It had to be done now. Done while his brain was allowing it, before he got attached... before he got attached even more. He couldn't keep pretending it was okay, keep accepting your compliments and your kindness, couldn't allow himself to go any further in his.. attraction?

It was always unspoken between the two of you- your not so subtle hints to Mycroft over the last few years hadn't got unnoticed, Mycroft would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he felt the same way, though this was perhaps the most open you had been; he would always put it off, try to think of reasons why you shouldn't be more than whatever you are now- most of the time it circles back to work, your busy schedule at the Yard and his unpredictable working hours mostly, saying to himself that it would simply be pointless, that you wouldn't see each other. But he knew that was a lie- you see him as often as you can, even if it's just for an hour on lunch, and everyone knows he would do his best to move empires to have you over for dinner had it been a while, quite literally actually.

Then there was age, you were in your mid-to-late twenties, he in his forties, though that argument also fell flat after you had mentioned your last long term relationship had been with a man your elder, amongst many of your interests in celebrity males that you had mentioned being closer to his age than yours- and, on his behalf, it was usual for a Politician to walk into formal dinners with a younger woman on arm. In the end, it all went back to the real reason Mycroft put everything off, a reason he hated admitting to even himself. Mycroft was scared.

Having been the age he is with no sexual experience, no previous relationships, and not even many friendships, he was terrified he would humiliate himself and you would leave him completely. You were both adults, both clever, you both knew there was always 'something' there, but without you ever acting upon it, Mycroft decided to live his life keeping you as a friend rather than risk not having you at all. He felt guilty enough having you here anyway. He couldn't allow you to keep stroking his hair like that, or letting you sleep in his bed with him, hold him as he snored, when it was for completely other desires in his own mind, not without speaking to you. No, that wouldn't be fair- even if he didn't fully understand everything himself and was still incredibly scared. You needed to know the truth, about everything, and, if there were the slightest chance you'd forgive him, he had decided he couldn't wait any longer, couldn't put it off anymore, he wanted you to carry on doing those things, wanted to continue the nights you would stay in his bed. But Mycroft wanted it to change, he wanted to be able to start the night with a ghost of his hand on your hip, without waiting until you were asleep to bring himself to have that courage, to wake up next to you and not feel the awkward need to move so soon, just to stay a little longer. Christ, Mycroft wanted every cliché in the book with you, and it took him until yesterday to realise how much he wanted that, after nearly losing you. And he needed you to know, even if it risked it all.

"Y/N I-"

"I know, I'm sorry, I took it too far I was just messing about.. Not that I didn't mean it, I wasn't joking about you.. You are very attractive, but it was inappropriate.. I shouldn't have said it.. I just wanted to help.. though I don't think it did, might have made it worse, actually.. Didn't want to say anything and let you find out.. like that.. not that it matters.. because I AM happy JUST being your friend, over the moon, actually.. so I don't want you to think I ruined that... Because I know you don't feel.. like that.. and you're not saying anything which is scaring me a little because you're always talking.. Not that I don't like that.. I love you talking to me, you've got a lovely voice.. and.. and I'm going to shut up again.. sorry.. again.." You rambled, a lot, too much.. far too much. Mycroft tried to process everything, his eyes closing at every word. You were making this so much harder for him, admitting everything like that. Mycroft hunched forward in his position and braced his elbows on his knees, index and middle finger of each hand holding the weight of his head by his temples.

"No just.. Just stop talking for a moment." Mycroft snapped, cutting you off as your mouth opened to speak a little, the small jump back made his gaze soften. "Please." He spoke softer, apologetic. "I can't.. talk about that.. not yet. Not until you know.." You went to speak again but his head tilted, eyes containing a rare glaze of vulnerability, trying to stay in contact with your own but constantly dropping back to his lap- a silent plea to stay quiet, be patient and just give him a moment. And you did. Turning your body completely sideways, you crossed your legs on the sofa, hands resting folded in your lap as you encouraged him to continue with a brief nod of your head. "I fear if I don't tell you of yesterday's happenings in this very moment that I never shall, and that is far too selfish, even of me." He took a deep breath in. "But I just.. need a moment. A few, likely, throughout." You nodded your head again.

From there, Mycroft began to explain everything that had happened, told you of his sister, where she had taken him, Sherlock and John, what she spoke about, what she tried to get them to do. His voice cracked every so often, knuckles whitened as his fists clenches, creases formed in his trousers where he squeezed his hand on them, but you listened to every word and stayed silent- eyes welling with small tears. Mycroft spoke of the screen, told you of the snipers that were out there, targeting Ms Hudson and Molly. Your body stiffened as he added Lestrade to the list, feeling your throat tighten a little at the mere thought of losing Greg. Mycroft pressed on, told you about how Eurus tried to make Sherlock choose between him and John, told you how he'd tried to convince Sherlock to just shoot him, how Sherlock refused and threatened to shoot himself. His voice went breathless at the end of that, the idea of losing his brother so easily still fresh in his mind. You loosened your sitting position and leaned over, taking Mycroft's hand in your own and squeezing. He sighed again and closed his eyes.

"Please, don't." He whispered, trying to fold his hand into a fist to escape your embrace. You didn't let go and offered your other hand on his back in support as you watched a stray tear fall down his cheek. "I said don't!" He shouted, moving from your touch and standing up from the sofa, beginning to pace as his face contorted into more pain, another tear following the path of the last. You sat back, watched him, didn't take the anger to heart. "It was my fault! All of it!" He ran his hands through his hair and tugged, moving them after to wipe the droplets from his cheek.

"Myc it's ok-"

"It isn't okay Y/N! No part of any of this is even remotely close to okay!" He stilled now, posture going back rigid as he looked at you, eyes bloodshot and glassy. He told you of his Birthday present to Eurus- five unsupervised minutes with Moriarty- and started his pacing again. "A man died yesterday because of me. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly. They all almost died yesterday. You almost... you almost died yesterday." His breath hitched again, lip softly quivering at the end of his words. You tensed a little and frowned, confused and urging him to elaborate. "They weren't the only people on the screens, not the only ones with a red dot on their heads, Y/N." Gaze avoiding you now, turned completely to face the wall rather than look at you at all- giving him a chance to compose himself, steadying his voice. "I saw you, you were happy, just dancing and making tea, but at any moment you could have... and it would have been my fault. And I know I should have told you yesterday, it was selfish of me using you the way that I have without letting you know everything. You could have been gone before I could tell you everything, before I could explain how I feel about you, and it all came rushing to me the moment I saw your face on that screen. I’m so sorry, for everything, for ignoring everything, for being the reason you almost-" The last thing Mycroft had expected was the feeling of arms around his waist, the feeling of a head resting between his shoulder blades, soaking the shirt with tears. You sniffed, holding onto him tighter as you cried into his back.

"It's okay Mycroft." You spoke, voice croaking from tears. "They're okay.. I'm okay. And you're going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere." The relief Mycroft felt from your words ran through his body as he slumped a little, left hand holding on to where yours joined on his stomach, his right lifting to his eyes where, in a very rare moment, he allowed himself to weep.

***

Neither of you were too sure on how long you stayed like that, Mycroft being held in your arms as he quietly cried into his hand, you into his back, but it was long enough that your feet were beginning to ache and Mycroft had become silent a short while ago. You attempted to loosen your grip but Mycroft quickly grabbed back at your hands, holding them to him again. You changed your tactic and instead circled round until your hands remained together on his back, you now at his front and you gave him one last squeeze before guiding him backwards to the sofa, taking your place next to him but keeping your arms around him.

"I'm sorry." His voice was broken, quieter than usual. You shook your head and fought the urge to cry again.

"Don't." You spoke, sliding a hand down to hold his own that rested on his thigh. "Don't apologise Myc. You didn't do anything on purpose, you were just trying to be a good person.. a good brother. We're both still alive. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly, they're all fine, and I have no doubt that it was partly due to you that they are still okay- whatever the three of you did in there, it worked, and that's all that matters to me." Mycroft shifted, his eyes finding yours once more, scanning, searching, trying to find anything that showed you were lying, that you didn't trust him anymore, but he couldn't find anything.

"But I-" You placed a hand at the back of his neck and leaned forward slightly, your lips meeting his briefly for a few seconds before pulling back. It wasn't desperate, or longing, or out of lust- it was everything Mycroft needed. Everything that let him know that you weren't going anywhere, that you still wanted to be around him, to be with him. He relaxed but didn't speak, his hand beneath yours just turning to allow your fingers to lace together as he let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. You rested your head against his shoulder, smiling softly as you felt his own rest atop yours before falling into a comfortable silence.

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

The Couple Next Door IX (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part Eight Here

A/N: Surprise! I’m briefly back from a year-long Hiatus and I have one chapter for TCND, one for ATU AND a George Harrison one-shot I’m just gonna drop and then probably disappear again for another few months. I’m also finding it even more difficult to write for Roger seeing as I’ve kinda been listening to nothing but The Beatles for the last fifteen months and I really only hear Queen at work, so that’s gotta change. But I am very sorry about the LONG wait. I really do appreciate you guys, and I think you’ve all waited quite long enough to find out what happens next...

Summary: Roger and Y/N spend the morning taking care of Bobby; they talk a little more about the future and come to the conclusion they both want the same thing.

(Let your imagination run free, bc this can be either Canon or Borhap!Roger)

WARNINGS: Swearing is probably a given at this point, self-doubt, mentions/ suggestions of sex (advise you to avoid if you’re under 18), and I usually revise when I’m stoned so there’s probably some typos in here too, sorry.

Rated T for Teen-- (I feel like a video game rating smh)

Bobby was crying again.

Granted, it was about seven in the morning, and he did sleep for the rest of the night.

Roger was the last of the both of you to wake up; not because of the crying-- he didn't even hear the crying-- but he was wrapped up in the blankets with you, and you were trying to remove yourself from his grasp.

"Don't leave," Roger grumbled as he pulled you tightly against his chest, eyes remaining closed as you whispered back to him.

"But I have to go. Baby's cryin'."

Roger loosened his grip on you, much to his dismay, and you slipped from his embrace, leaving him cold, and alone.

"Come back, Baby..." He really hoped his gravelly plea would entice you to return from the nursery after tending to Bobby, and although you were probably against having sex in your friends' bed, he figured there was no harm in testing the waters.

"That's not how that works when you have a baby, Rog. The day starts now."

Roger groaned in protest, but as he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, he revealed to himself that you were no longer in the room, and the baby's cries settled when he heard your voice float down the hall from the nursery room.

Roger, as much as he didn't want to, tossed the comforter off of his body, and after rising to his feet and combing his fingers through his hair, he shuffled out of the bedroom and made a beeline to the stairs.

He was glad he was familiar with John's kitchen; because he was certain you had no idea where anything was, meaning he would be the one preparing breakfast that morning, and the one following it, most likely.

Fuck it, he would (try to) cook you up seven different meals a day if you asked him.

Anything for you.

He put the kettle on, and moved to the pantry in search for John's teabags, yawning lightly as he pulled the door open.

Nothing in the pantry really stuck out to him as being a good breakfast that morning, so Roger ended up migrating to the fridge after retrieving the tea, where his eyes fell on the carton of eggs on the bottom shelf.

He settled on making French Toast for breakfast seeing as he, according to you, made the best French Toast in England.

So he got to work whipping up some eggs and pulling four slices of bread from the bread box on the counter-- but not before he got one of Bobby's bottles out for you, warmed it, and placed it on the kitchen table.

Roger was frying the French Toast in no time, and he hummed gently as he busied himself with focusing on the now whistling kettle, and when the right time to flip the toast would be.

"... I thought you were still in bed," your words were sudden, and it made Roger jump a little. But when he realized it was only you, Bobby in your arms, his mouth contorted into a dopey smile.

"Nah," Roger turned the pan's burner down a little, and after he flipped the French Toast, he set his spatula on the counter, turning to face you.

"I was gonna let you sleep in, since you were so reluctant on waking up," you explained with a yawn. "But here you are awake, and making breakfast before me."

"Well it wouldn't be fair then, would it? Me sleeping in while you've all this work to do?"

"I don't know, would it?"

"I really don't think so, Dove."

He felt pride swell in his chest when pink dusted your cheeks at the sound of your new nickname, and he took this chance to swoon you further by pulling you in gently by the elbows, and he enveloped both you and Bobby in his embrace.

"Beautiful..." Roger's voice was barely a whisper as he touched his lips to your jawline, and you responded with a soft exhale.

"Even when you've just woken up," Roger mumbled against the skin of your neck, lips curling into a smile, "you are the prettiest goddamned thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"Mmm, down, boy," you purred back jokingly, taking a small step back. "Baby still needs to eat."

"Well yours is coming right up," he teased, "and Bobby's is already at the table." Roger pointed to the bottle on the other side of the room before tapping your rear. "Take a seat, and I'll bring your food over."

You didn't have to be told twice. You took a seat at the table, and although Bobby was growing a little agitated, it was short lived when you put the bottle of milk in his possession.

Roger, not five minutes after you sat down, joined you at the table with your French Toast and your mug of tea, made just the way you liked it, of course.

"'S the right tea, yeah?"

You took a quick look at the label hanging from the mug.

"Yep." Your eyes squinted after letting the label fall where the string tied to it would let it. "Y'know, you've been making my tea right for months, you don't have to check to make sure you're right."

"You know I'm always gonna make sure it's to your liking."

"And I love you for it."

"Hopefully for other things too. I'm not just good at being your barista."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm not overlooking your other good traits," you smiled as you brought your mug to your lips and having the first sip of tea of the day.

As Roger sat down next to you with his own plate of food and mug of tea, he decided to wait on Bobby to finish so he could eat with you.

So, naturally, he took the time to evaluate again what kind of situation he was in.

There was nothing like watching you care for Bobby. Roger had known you for years, and not once in his life did he ever think he would be sitting next to you at breakfast while feeding a baby, whether or not the child was his own, or yours.

The whole scene looked too good to be true, though like the previous night, Roger just drank in the sight of you putting all your love and care into a child at breakfast with him.

How did you think you weren't cut out for being a mother?

This was in your nature.

The domesticity of the situation made Roger a little emotional. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to experiencing a breakfast with a family he'd built, and he spent every passing second filling his mind and heart with the beautiful sight before him.

"Y/n, you would make a wonderful mother." Roger's words left his mouth faster than his brain could register what he'd said.

You looked to Roger from Bobby, cheeks and tips of your ears darkening, and Roger was talking again before he could realize it and catch himself.

"Any man would be so damn lucky to have you. I honestly can't believe you stick around me still."

Your face was feeling real hot, now. Roger's head was still lagging behind his words, and clearly, he wasn't done talking.

"You could be out building a beautiful family right now, but instead you're babysitting with your best friend who you also occasionally sleep with. I just... I don't understand."

It took you a second to respond, but Roger didn't blame you. Honestly, he didn't even know what he would have said if he were asked the same question.

"... Well, I love you, Roger."

Your words were simple, and Roger knew your statement was nothing but platonic, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding against his ribcage.

You'd said those exact three words to him minutes earlier, but the context of the conversations contrasted their meanings.

"But we promised each other at the beginning of all of this that we'd be fine giving up pursuing family life if that means living with one another..."

"... You sound unsure, now."

The atmosphere felt heavy, and it was almost as if Bobby had known making noise wasn't in his best interest. He decided to finish eating at the right time.

"... It's not that I'm unsure. It's just..."

Roger waited patiently for you to answer, but you had noticed Bobby finished his milk, and you took the bottle from him.

You burped him, and placed a pacifier you pulled from your pocket in Bobby's mouth. You must have gotten it from upstairs before you came down.

"Let me," Roger offered his arms out for the baby, and you let him take Bobby. You'd stood up and moved to the sink to wash the bottle.

Meanwhile, Roger, who'd also gotten to his feet, was slowly walking around the kitchen. He was praising Bobby for finishing all his breakfast, insisting he was so proud of him, his smile wide and gaze adoring as he evaluated the child in his arms.

"It's just that. There. The way you're behaving with him," you turn to face Roger, finger pointed at him. "The way you're treating him as your own."

Roger's mouth opened and closed a few times, but after shutting his jaw for the third time, he decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to keep quiet.

"You'd make the most wonderful father, Roger. The way you behave with Bobby, god, the way you behaved with Raymond the other day," you sounded frustrated, and all Roger could do was watch you pace the kitchen, his sheepish face now a deep red.

"It's just that I would want the father of my kids to be just like you. I wouldn't settle for anything less."

Roger opened his mouth again to speak. He felt like his chest was on fire. Your thoughts were becoming painstakingly parallel to his, Roger had noticed. He couldn't get any words out before you started speaking again.

"Like you said last night, this job is giving us a chance to experience what it'd be like to have a family... and maybe I'm upset I did throw the chance to have all of that away."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, and all Roger could do was watch you and listen to what you had to say.

"Roger, I hope you know you will always have a special place in my heart. You're my family, you have been for the last five years of my life, and there's no doubt about it. But being able to have a child..."

Your hands ghosted over the robe's fabric covering your definitely unpregnant belly. "... I think I want to have children."

"... Y/n I hope you know I feel exactly the same way."

And then everything was clear.

Roger understood where his band was coming from.

Getting married to you would solve all your problems.

He knew what the both of you were thinking in this new moment of silence, but there was absolutely no way Roger was going to fall to one knee and propose to you right now when he wasn't even romantically involved with you.

And he just felt it would be very inappropriate if he took this moment to spontaneously ask you on a romantic date with the intentions of courting you.

"Listen, Y/n," Roger finally built up enough courage to break the silence. Bobby cut him off with a short cry, and Roger immediately started swaying the baby in his arms. Sure enough, Bobby's agitation ceased, and Roger could continue, keeping the movement going.

"Just because we're living together without families now doesn't mean we won't be able to have families, say, five to ten years down the road."

At this point, although it was necessary, Roger didn't really want to mention the discomfort he felt when imagining you falling for someone who wasn't him.

Your eyes were big and sad, lip pouted as you considered Roger's words. "... are you sure?"

The idea of you and him having to move out of the condo Roger risked the both of your love lives for didn't sit well with him.

You'd be gone making sweet love to some lucky asshole who probably didn't deserve to be in your presence, while Roger goes on a bender, gets ahold of some weed and coke, and sleeps with enough girls to distract him from realizing he'd thrown the best thing in his life away-- you.

He didn't want you to think he thought you were selfish. The last thing he needed right now was to feel guilty for making you feel guilty.

So he just nodded. "No house isn't forever anyways." When you didn't respond to his little joke, he sighed.

"Y/n, we're still so young. You don't have to commit yourself to anything like that just yet. Enjoy being able to go out drinking with me every weekend, and sleeping in on our days off. Your chance to start a family will come when the time is right."

You let out a shaky breath. Roger was actually a little surprised with how well you were keeping yourself together.

But his actions put the both of you here, and to see that this conversation nearly reduced you to tears had Roger drowning in guilt, even without the help of mentioning any of his inner conflict to you.

"I just hope you're right." Your voice was broken and your fingers were tangled stressfully in your hair.

"Hey," Roger's voice had gone soft again, his rocking slowing to a halt, and you looked up to find him with an open arm, awaiting your touch.

You slowly unravelled your fingers from your hair, and you gave into the hug not moments later. Roger pulled you to his chest tightly, his free arm occupied by the baby.

"Y'know... I made you French Toast to start the day off good." When you didn't say anything in response, Roger pulled away from you just enough to look you in the face.

He was giving you that same look he did at the Garrison's again; that unreadable gaze he'd achieved with those big blue eyes that seemingly bored holes into your very soul.

His free hand slipped up from your back to your neck, and he leaned in to just touch his lips to the corner of your mouth.

So close, yet so far away.

It wasn't before long that he pulled away from you, but Roger just couldn't keep his eyes off you.

"You come sit down and enjoy your French Toast, Dove. I've got Bobby."

"But--"

"Please?"

Roger knew he'd convinced you as soon as he said that magic word. Though you took a moment to look from the bundle in his arms to the breakfast you really were dying to dig into, you eventually sighed out a gentle "thank you," before taking your seat again at the table.

He came around and kissed the top of your head. "Enjoy, Honey." Roger took a seat next to you, Bobby still in his one arm, and the both of you ate your French Toast in relative silence for the first few seconds.

"... God, you really do make good French Toast, Blondie." Roger was smiling now. At least you were talking again.

"I only improved my cooking skills for you, y'know," he admitted with a mouthful of his food, though he didn't sound ashamed of it.

"And thank God for that. Cooking every other night sure beats cooking every night."

"You can say that again," Roger mumbled before shoving the last of his breakfast into his mouth. You still slowly ate away at your meal, and Roger was making funny faces at Bobby in between taking sips of his tea.

The telephone in the living room started ringing, and you stood up to go get it, but Roger immediately dropped his fork and grabbed your wrist.

"Nuh-uh. I just finished eating. You still have a little bit to go. Take Bobby and I'll get it." You scooped the baby up without another word, smiling when he opened his eyes.

"Can you at least bring back his rattle from his play pen?"

"Can do, Princess," he called over his shoulder as he approached the phone.

"H'lo?"

"Roger?"

"Oh, hey, John!" Roger tucked the phone's handset under his chin, carrying the telephone in his left hand so he could get Bobby's rattle.

"Isn't it a little early to be up?" Roger glanced at the clock, which read that it was quarter after seven.

"Biological clocks. Just wanting to checking in. Is Bobby okay? Has he been any trouble?"

"No, of course not! He's doing fine, John." Roger tucked the rattle in his back pocket when he found it, and returned to the writing desk where the phone was meant to stay.

That was something he loved about you. You always bought him pyjamas with pockets. The concept was cool, and being able to use them was even cooler.

"Y/n's got him in the kitchen right now," he explained, taking the handset again with his now free hand. "We're all just finishing up breakfast, actually."

"Oh good. How is she?" John paused for a second, his voice dropping a little lower. "... How are you guys?"

Roger made sure his voice was a little quiet, as well. "John, this may have been your guys' best idea ever. I don't know why I was against this in the beginning."

"Really?! What's happened already?!" John, everyone would have guessed to be one to avoid certain kinds of gossip, though when it came to Roger's business with you, he liked checking up on that.

"I told her about all that family stuff."

"And?"

"And, well..." Roger set the phone back onto the desk and scratched the back of his neck. "... She may or may not be having the same problem," he mumbled.

"So... so you both want a family?" John tried clarifying.

"Yes."

"Then why are you two not together?!" Roger slipped away around the corner into the main hall with just the receiver so he was a little further away from the kitchen. He didn't want you hearing their conversation, or John through the receiver.

"Well I'm not asking her here!"

"Then where? And when?"

Roger knew John was just getting excited, and his questions honestly had Roger brainstorming every possibility when it came to asking you.

"... I don't know, yet," Roger said after a while of thinking. "But soon. God, it needs to be soon." He didn't quite know why he was pressuring himself to ask you sooner than later.

Maybe it was because he was scared someone much better and more deserving of you (or alternatively, a selfish prick) was going to waltz in and steal you from him just before he had you for sure.

"Do you need any help with that part? I can get Fred and Bri--"

"No no no, it's okay, John." Roger leaned up against the wall of the hallway, fingers tapping the handset absentmindedly with his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

"You guys have already done enough, really. I... I think I'm good on my own from here."

"Well, I'm glad," John expressed to Roger. "It's not every day you need to help Roger Taylor get with a girl, y'know."

"This is different, and you know it."

"I just like to tease," John defended, and Roger could even hear a smile evident in his words.

"Anyways, Veronica and I will be home tomorrow around noon. Y/n's got our number. You two take care."

"Of course, you too," Roger was making his way back to the writing desk.

"Thanks. Oh, and Roger?" John added quickly.

"Hm?"

"If you two end up doing anything, for God's sake, please wash the sheets."

As John was speaking, you'd walked into the living room with Bobby in your arms. "We're gonna go and have some play time, now! Yes we are!"

Roger was too panicked by your presence to even realize you weren't paying any attention to the phone call, and he hoped to God you didn't hear a single thing John had said. "Yeah-yes! Laundry. Will do."

He nodded his head once, though John couldn't see him, and after saying their good byes, Roger hung up the phone.

He turned to where you were in the living room. You were looking in the play pen for something, and Roger suddenly remembered the rattle in his back pocket.

He pulled it out hurriedly and held it out to you. "Shit! I'm so sorry about that--"

"Don't swear, Roger," you took the rattle, a smile on your lips you both knew you were trying to frown away. "There's a baby here."

"What? He doesn't know what that word means."

"Well, the more you keep saying it, the more of a chance he has at that being his first word, and I do not need the Deacon Family hunting us down for teaching their kid swears." You looked from Roger down to Bobby, shaking the rattle gently and grinning when Bobby squealed happily and reached out for the toy.

You took a seat on the couch, and played around with Bobby while Roger went back to the kitchen to do the dishes.

From 7:30 AM to about 2:30, all that really happened was play-time and lunch, something Roger prepared. You offered to do the dishes, but Roger wouldn't allow it. He just suggested you put Bobby up for his nap. He'd fallen asleep in your arms during play-time, like he did with Roger the night before.

The both of you thought it was crazy Bobby would just fall asleep rather than cry, but honestly, neither of you were complaining. Quiet baby for the win!

Roger just finished putting the last plate on the drying rack on the counter as he listened above for your footsteps leaving Bobby's room. He dried his hands off with the dishtowel hanging over his shoulder after turning off the faucet.

From behind, Roger felt a pair of arms slowly circle his body, and he smiled warmly at the feeling of you pressed against his back.

"He asleep?"

"Mhm."

Roger's smile only widened as you inched your palms up his chest. He turned in your arms and pressed his hands against your hips, inching you closer as he leaned back against the kitchen sink.

"Well, what do we do, now?" Roger asked. He sounded like he was up to no good. With the sultry look in his eyes and the way the smile on his lips looked like he was repressing a naughty suggestion, he knew you knew he already had something on his mind.

"Well, I mean," your hands slipped up into Roger's long hair, fingers tangling themselves between the strands. "Anything, really."

You knew what game Roger was playing, and you loved how cute he was, thinking he was going to have you on your knees for him.

His eyes shamelessly raked over the top half of your body, and he squeezed his hands, still at your hips.

"What'll you be doing with your free time, Roger?" You took one more step closer to him, and he pulled you the rest of the way to him so your groin was flush with his.

"I'm looking right at her."

He was already strained against his jeans, and you just offered a smile, fingers tightening their grip in Roger's hair.

"Mmm... I kinda like the sound of that," you admitted lowly, half of a smile on your lips. You shifted your hips from side to side, and Roger tried to pull you even closer.

You rolled your hips against Roger again, and the cheekiness in his face fell with a look of long-awaited relief, and his head dropped to your shoulder.

One of his hands moved up to grab you by the back of your neck, and when he lifted his head to look at you again, his second hand dragged upwards from your hip to squeeze your waist.

Roger lifted the hand by your neck, and combed your hair back with his fingers. His eyes fell onto yours for a brief moment, and you could have sworn there was something he tried to tell you there.

You just couldn't read him.

But he didn't care. He pulled you in close again, and his lips were on yours.

You'd kissed Roger before. Not in public, but definitely in the bedroom. And they weren't very scarce. Honestly, if Roger's lips weren't somewhere else on your body, they'd be on yours.

But why was this feeling different from all the other times he'd kissed you?

He was being a lot less forceful and needy than he usually was.

His grip wasn't tight on you, and it wasn't like he was crushing you against him as if indicating he needed more of you, now.

He was holding you rather, and the hand at your waist circled around to press against your lower back. The hand on your neck shifted a little forward so Roger could gently slide the pad of his thumb down the column of your throat.

The both of you were holding your breath, and Roger was the first to pull away. The both of you sucked in some air, and before you could even draw in a full breath, Roger's lips were on yours again.

He pushed towards you, guiding you backwards until your back was flat against the refrigerator. His warm hands grabbed for yours and he pinned them above your head by your wrists.

Okay. This, was something you were used to. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for when Roger's hands loosened their grip on your wrists, and he was lacing his fingers between your own.

Your hands felt very small in Roger's. How had he never noticed that before? What else had he neglected to realize about you?

In that moment, he felt you pull away to breathe, and he looked down at you worriedly, fingers frozen, yet still laced with yours.

"I- uh... I-I'm sorry--"

"No no, don't be. It's okay," your response was very rushed, but you didn't skip a word.

There was about a minute of silence, your hot breaths mingling in the space between your lips, though your gazes were locked with one another, and you couldn't look away.

"Did-uh... did you want me to... to stop?" His question was gentle, almost sincere-sounding, but he still made no effort to move from his place.

"No. God, no." And as soon as you'd answered, Roger closed the space between the both of you again, his fingers unwound from yours to grab you by the jaw, and you just held his waist, pushing your body as close to him as he would let you.

He shifted around a little, and moved his leg between yours. You could feel his mouth bend into a smirk against yours, and he began to apply pressure to the apex of your legs with his knee.

Before long, as much as you wanted to resist it, you fell to Roger's submission, and as you waited for him to grab your waist and put you wherever, he hesitated for a second, and dropped his hands from yours.

You opened your eyes again to find Roger, face red, and staring at your chest. Not in an ogling way, but more of a method to avoid looking you in the eye.

He could tell you were looking at him, and he shifted his gaze to you. He itched at his hands awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as he tried to explain himself.

You just waited. You gave him time to think, and he had an answer for you sooner than either of you would have thought.

"I just... I wanna try something else. I don’t want to control you like I do every night."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but a good beginning to a demonstration.

"Will you come to bed with me, Y/n?" His offer was gentle, yet confident, despite offering a hand out hesitantly.

When you dropped your hand into his, all of the tension in Roger's being relaxed, and he quietly led you up the stairs, past the nursery, and into John and Veronica's room.

Before you could say anything he gently explained that he'd do laundry later, and then he pulled you in for another kiss he'd been waiting to give you since the last one.

Roger pulled you closer to him, hands cupping your face as his lips began to desperately chase after yours. You kissed Roger back with just as much vigor, but then he slowed the movements of his mouth, and guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Roger helped lower you down onto the bed, and he leaned over you, dipping down to kiss your lips again. He knelt between your legs, and pulled them up around his waist so he could lean in even closer.

You felt his hands squeeze your hips, and he pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth. You hummed lowly, your eyelashes kissing your cheeks as Roger pulled away ever so slightly-- just enough to pull his shirt off of him, and close the distance between your bodies again.

You tangled your hands into his hair, and he hummed in approval before pulling back just once more.

"I'm sure that's hardly fair..."

"What?"

"This," Roger tugged gently at the hem of your shirt.

"Why's yours still on?"

"... I never said it had to be."

Roger exhaled, and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head after you raised your arms to help him out a little.

He placed the palm of his hand over the smooth skin of your belly as he stared at your bare torso. And before long, he dipping down to kiss you again.

You reciprocated his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck and tightening your legs around his hips, to which he rocked himself against your core, and then---

Bam!

The headboard hit the wall, and Bobby woke up.

"Nooo..." you squeezed your eyes shut as the baby's cries began to reverberate down the hallway.

"Fuck!" Roger groaned, eyebrows knitted together helplessly as he climbed off of you. You both knew it was Roger who technically woke the baby up, and it was just silently agreed on that he went to put him back down.

"Dammit to hell, those separated headboards."

Roger opened the nursery door, and made his way to the crib in the corner of the room. Bobby's cheeks were wet with tears, and Roger's heart sank. "'M sorry, little guy. C'mere. Come see uncle Roger."

He picked the baby up and rocked him back and forth, though it wasn't exactly doing much, so Roger took a seat in the rocking chair on the opposite side of the room, swaying the both of them with a push of his feet.

Bobby's cries settled, and Roger felt proud of himself. Sure, he wanted to get back to what he was doing before, but instead he took his time in making sure Bobby was comfortable and not in need of anything before he drifted off to sleep again.

Bobby played around with Roger's fingers a few moments after his agitation ceased, and he couldn't believe how large his hands were in comparison to Bobby's. He was once that size.

A little while later Roger set Bobby down in his crib, and the infant was out. The drummer smiled at his accomplishment. He didn't even need your help.

With that, he left the room without a sound.

He stepped into John and Veronica's room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He was in the middle of turning on his heel when he stopped dead in his tracks.

You'd taken some of the pillows off the bed and wedged them between the wall and the headboard to keep the bed from making noise.

You were also splayed out on the bed in a lot less clothing than he remembered you in when he left.

With a teasing beckon from your finger, Roger knew three things were for certain.

1. You were the smartest woman he knew.

2. You were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

3. He, the Roger Taylor, had fallen madly, and helplessly in love with you.

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

A/A/N: Again, you’ve all been waiting long enough for the next chapter, so here you are. i hope you all enjoy, and if my response is great with this one, I’ll see if I can spit out another one soon <3

PERMENANT TAG LIST

@culturefiendtrashqueen​

@rogermeddow​

FIC TAGLIST

@luvborhap

@amy-brooklyn99

@scarsout

@kimmietea​

@ohtheseboysilove​

@demo-wise​

@suavishowell​

@bohemianahoy​

@pippin248​

@maisielou

@hardyshoe​

@queenlover05​

@imjustboredso​

@juliarvra​

(Leave me a message if you wanna be added to either of my taglists)

[agent-yolk-writes]

You're My Dad! Boogie Woogie Woogie! (Diavolo & Reader)

Ever wanted to call Diavolo your dad? No? Well too bad, I have the perfect fic for you down below!

AO3 Version Here!

If you like my writing, please let me know! My inbox is empty and it's hungry for OM content.

Bold = Diavolo's text

Italicized and Indented = MC's text

Like every natural disaster, it came without a warning.

It started off like every other day. Wake up, go to RAD, do student council duties, go home, sleep, repeat. Of course, there would be an occasional (read: frequent) occasion outside of the standard norm, but today was not one of those times.

“Here you go!” You handed Diavolo your latest finished report. “I’ve even separated the approved and rejected request forms and sorted them alphabetically for easier reading.” You said proudly. Sure enough, the Prince quickly thumbed through one of the piles and made a noise in his throat that sounded positive.

Next thing you know, he gives you one of his iconic smiles. “Excellent work as always, MC.” He tells you. “Your help is always appreciated! Thanks to you, we’ve made a tremendous dent in all this paperwork. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

The praise he was pouring on you felt so good. You try not to visibly react to it, but your brain dumped a massive pool of serotonin from his words alone. Hell, you can even feel your cheeks warming up. It always felt good to be praised by your peers, but there was something about the way Diavolo praises you that fuels you to work hard for the next one. While you were chasing that high and not wanting to be rude you simply replied with,

“Thanks, dad.”

And all of Devildom seemed to freeze over. You could hear Lucifer’s pen dropping to the floor behind you while Mammon choked on something somewhere else in the room. There were no sounds of papers being written or even talking. All eyes landed on you as the reality of what you said started to sink in.

Oh fuck, did you call the Prince of Literal Hell your Dad? Well, he’s such a huge guy and acts almost exactly like those kind-hearted fathers you always see on social media in your realm. It doesn’t help that your actual dad kinda sucks, so maybe this is projection at work. Sadly, the damage has already been done. You could see Diavolo’s face turn from confusion to amusement in a matter of seconds.

“I...I…” Your already red face got darker when you heard the faint snickering coming from Barbatos. Fearing that your rapid heart bursting through your chest, you can only manage to squeak a “Bye!” Before dashing out of the building and out of the academy.

So here you are, holed up in your honorary room at Purgatory Hall while your D.D.D. continues to blow up on the nightstand next to the bed. You couldn’t go back to the HOL, not immediately at least. You felt so embarrassed that you called your housemates’s semi-boss your father.

At least the residents at Purgatory Hall understood your human err. Solomon did give you some shit about it, but that was a given because, well, it’s Solomon. If he wasn’t teasing you about this, then you would have bigger fish to fry in Hell. Simeon was the most sympathetic person about your current predicament while Luke was just happy that you’re hanging out for a few hours. He can complain about the demons later.

You just hope this shitshow cools down soon. Maybe a nap will calm you down.

~

Hours have passed. Still afraid to look at your phone, your only indicator of time passing was Simeon coming up to your room with a tray of tonight’s dinner with a side dish almost overflowing with cookies courtesy of Luke. Bless these angels, both of them.

And sure enough, your phone stopped vibrating non-stop. Before you could deduce that the battery died, a singular buzz proved otherwise. Damn it.

Still, you couldn’t avoid the brothers forever. They’ll probably kick up another storm of messages since you haven’t replied to them initially. With a defeated sigh, you grabbed your phone and unlocked it. Let's see...143 messages in the HOL+Royals group chat, 103 messages in the HOL group chat, 87 messages from Mammon, 15 messages from Asmo, 10 messages from Lucifer, 5 messages from Levi, 1 message from Satan, 2 messages from Diavolo-

...2 messages from Diavolo. Sent a minute ago. Welp, no use avoiding him either since he’s the sole reason you’re even in Hell in the first place.

MC! Are you alright? You sure ran out of the room quite fast. I didn’t know humans could reach those speeds.

I apologize if I offended you somehow.

With a big gulp, you started writing back.

im okay! Hunkering down at Purgatory atm

if anything, I should be apologizing to you lol

Five minutes passed before he texted back.

That’s good to hear! (smiling devimoji)

Hopefully the brothers haven’t bothered you too much from this.

you have no idea.

(gurgle devimoji)

I have to say, you certainly caused a stir. I couldn’t help but wonder about something.

MC, do you see me as a father figure?

uh, no? If anything, I see you as a bother figure

cuz your always bothering me

God damn you, brain! Think before you speak for fuck’s sake! Quick, do something that'll lessen the blow!

lol

Nailed it!

(hehe devimoji)

I see.

I have been called many things, good and bad, because of my position. Being called dad is a new one.

It’s certainly not...unpleasant.

He’s going to kill you at this rate. You know he will.

ill make sure not to do it again. sorry chief

tho im sure i caused a riot during the meeting

No worries!

And you left it like that. Your mind was pulling blanks on how to respond. You could figure it out as you reply to the others, but you really don’t have the mental fortitude to face them now that Diavolo is embracing his new moniker happily.

And of course, think about the demon prince and he shall appear. Again. What he sent made you groan into your pillow.

How about this weekend we can talk about what human fathers normally do over some sandwiches and tea?

...that sounds nice

Great! Looking forward to it!

(smiling devimoji)

Even though this whole ordeal was embarrassing, you couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of your future meetup. While your actual dad had no redeemable qualities about him, there were always memes.

Curling up in your bed, you begin your hunt across the Demon Web with a VPN that lets you access human websites in order to bring your A-Game this weekend.

Maybe this turned out to be a good thing, after all.

[hanadolphieron]

flirt!ryujin~

warnings; swearing

genre; fluff

pairing; shin ryujin x fem!reader

word count; 1.1k

summary; ryujin comes into your diner and flusters you beyond belief

it’s only your second week on the job, and you’re already bored as hell.

despite it being friday night and the diner was packed, your amateur skills kept you out of the interesting jobs, like serving at the bar or taking orders from families with screaming children.

the bell rang as you were cleaning tables. not even sparing the sound a glance, you continued your labor.

why did you take this job again? you couldn’t even remember. all this cleaning has brain-washed you and you can’t seem to think about anything else except this vile, hopeless, pathetic, rotten, crummy, abysmal, horrendous-

“hey babe”

whirling around, you come face-to-face with a blonde. you put on your “i love everyone!” face, smile, and say “how can i help you?”

but it comes out as more of a stutter, as her words register in your mind halfway through the sentence and being called babe really throws you off.

“how could you help me? well, i came here to have a burger but hopefully i’ll be having a date too,” the girl whispers, smirking.

oh dear.

first of all, why is this chick speaking to you like the old men that shuffle into the diner and call you gross names, and second of all, why is your heart fluttering? you thought your gay panic phase ended back in middle school.

apparently not, considering the fact that you were still standing there, speechless.

“r-right away,” you say, turning around and begin to set up the table you just cleaned.

pretending like nothing happened, you give her a menu and ask “are you here alone? or is there someone else accompanying you?”

“just me, although hopefully that’ll change by the end of the night,” the blond says, winking at you shamelessly.

“employees aren’t allowed to eat during their work hours,” you say as dry and unaffected as you can.

“i’m sure they can make an exception for such a gorgeous girl like you,” she whispers.

clearing your throat, you say, “can i get you anything to drink?”

“sweet tea, please.”

“i’ll get right on that!” your voice raises a few pitches and you dart towards the kitchen as fast as you can.

“with extra sugar please!” says the girl, her deep voice projecting over to you.

you reach the kitchen. fricking frack patty cake whack. what the diddly darn dangly doodle are you going to do now. 

you consider your options: flirting back would be the obvious answer, but you’re way too flustered to even attempt it. writing your number on the receipt- plausible, but cliché. doing nothing- unproductive, doesn’t help either of you. screaming in fear- hmmm no.

you decide to not make a decision at all, and go back to the table with the extra sugary tea. 

“thank you, it’s just how i wanted it- as sweet as your charming smile.” 

another wink.

brushing the compliment off and getting down to business, you ask, “are you ready to order, or do you need more time?”

“well, i was hoping i could have this burger right here,” the girl says, pointing to something on the menu.

leaning down over her shoulder, you look at the name she’s showing you. 

it’s called “the whapping whale”. (gosh who made up these names) 

“alright, one whapping whale coming right up!” you try to stand up, but a hand catches your jaw, turning your face.

brown eyes. a perfect nose. lips that are chapped but still look softer than pillows. a wisp of hair falling down into her left eye. you realize her mouth has started moving and snap back to reality.

she laughs and repeats herself, “can i have cheese with it as well?”

“of course,” you mutter, still shamelessly admiring her divine facial features.

“like what you see?” 

“yes.”

shit. why did you say that. mission abort. mission abort. leaning back again, you half-sprint back to the kitchen, catching a quirk of her lips as you turn.

you hide in the kitchen until the “whapping whale” is ready. why do you have to be so awkward. “one whapping whale coming right up” what were you thinking? are you some yeehaw cowboy? coming right up? who? what? where did that come from? do you have some primal instinct to say weird things? blergh.

and then? you said yes!? who even are you. why. why. this is going to haunt you forever. say hello to waking up at 1 a.m. and remembering this exact moment.

you grabbed the stupid whapping whale burger and went to go give it to that incredibly annoying and overly attractive girl.

“why the unhappy face babes?” the girl inquired softly once you reached her table.

“oh, i just burned by finger on one of the frying pans, but i’m fine, thanks for asking, would you like anything else, i can get you some more water, we also have a desert menu, and-” you quickly lied, rushing through six sentences at one time.

“slow down,” the girl laughs a little as she interrupts you,  “maybe i could kiss it better?”

“no thanks...”

the girl grabs your hands and examines them. stunned, you don’t pull away. 

“which one did you burn,” the girl says, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“fine, i didn’t burn my finger.”

the girl continues to hold you softly, now rubbing the side of your left hand with her thumb. you realize she’s waiting for you to continue.

you don’t exactly want to tell her every emotion you’ve been experiencing for the past 15 minutes, but you might as well go for it.

“well, first of all, you’re flustering me and making me stutter and feel awfully light-headed and confused, then you ordered that stupid whapping whale burger, which i managed to use in a sentence that was considerably yeehaw and cringy. now you’re sitting here holding my hands and are going to get me fired for fraternizing with customers and not doing my job. and i don’t even know your name!”

you stare at her. she processes your response.

“i won’t let them fire you. my exceptional wooing skills will persuade them not to.” she winks, “and besides, you won’t need a job if you’re going to spend all day with me tomorrow.”

another wink.

she continues, “my offer still stands to kiss you better still stands.”

a wink from the other eye.

“you’re going to fall asleep with all the winking you’re doing”

“not if i’m looking at a beauty like you.”

two more winks. the thumb caressing your hand doesn’t stop.

“you never told me your name,” you say.

“yours.”

a sigh from you.

“it’s ryujin,” she says with a giggle. 

you start laughing too.

[pla-teau]

WANDAVISION EPISODE SEVEN THOUGHTS

GIF NOT MINE

SPOILERS AHEAD YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!

BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL MORE LIKE BREAKING MY BRAIN AND HEART

wanda’s mood | as she talks to the camera, she treats her expanding the false world she’s created to having a bad night out. we’re seeing how tired she is from expanding westview - it damn near drained her it seems. the last episode was a lot to take in, keeping up with her torn emotions with pietro, her relationship with vision crumbling, worrying about her kids, expanding the hex — it’s enough to fry out your nerves. wanda also categorizes what happened in the last episode as reckless and decides to stay in to punish herself. even her kids notice that she’s out of it because she doesn’t stop them from fighting and doesn’t say a word as she heads to the kitchen. she’s drained, she’s tired - she doesn’t want to deal with anything today. wanda’s not being the doting mom she’s been since the birth of the twins as when billy talks about his head being too noisy, she ignores his complaints and lounges in bed a little longer. she’s drained and is acting out of character throughout the whole episode.

wanda’s reality is starting to break | right off the bat, we see how the reality in westview is going haywire. the boys mention their game freaking out. it switches to games from different eras. then we see it with wanda’s milk - switching from black and white to color and even changing shape to fit the style of a past era like 50s with the milk being in glass bottle or a milk carton with the ‘missing’ label on the side. we’ve seen the trailer/promo footage of different objects/furniture in the house glitching in this same manner and it seems that wanda’s power is not strong enough to keep everything together - physically or mentally so it seems in this episode.

“thanks for tuning in to W.N.D.A.” | as wanda is in the kitchen making herself some cereal, you can hear the tv from the living room say this. this sets up the opening credits for the show as everything is about wanda. if you turn on the subtitles, you can read exactly what the anchor is saying on the television. he says “not a thing weighing heavily on your conscience. i hope your little ghosts arrived home safe last night. it’s always such a treat to see those creepy kiddos out and about once a year.” it seems as though it’s wanda’s mind we’re hearing. nothing’s weighing heavily on her conscience - kinda is with expanding the hex. the little ghosts is in reference to all the kids that we finally saw come out for halloween in westview. calling them creepy kiddos could mean nothing but i thought about tommy and billy? since the two gained their abilities on halloween and weren’t doing much to conceal their powers (at least tommy wasn’t). i also say it’s wanda’s mind we’re gaining insight to cause when it goes on to the bit about giving tips about resisting temptation of the leftover candy or just eating it all - wanda is skeptical of what’s happening with the milk but still takes a big spoonful of cereal.

opening credits | we don’t have some super catchy lyrics this time around for the opening credits of the show - making me think that this is a nod to the office. but we do get ‘wanda’ splattered in every frame of the credits. the one that stands out to me is the ‘i know what u are doing wanda’ since everything else it seems to be replacing random words on signs like restaurants and other shops. comes off as a tad bit scary/creepy since it’s written with cut out letters from different new articles/magazines. could be a hint to vision knowing that it is all wanda’s doing. or as we later find out, it can be a set up to agnes’ reveal since she plays a more sinister role in all of this. this is the first we’re seeing any sort of credits in the opening sequence. created by wanda maximoff - again driving home the fact that the hex and everything we’ve seen so far has all been wanda’s creation or so we’re forced to believe...

SWORD retreat | we learn that the broadcast has been taken down - all they get is dead air supposedly. maybe that’s just a result of wanda’s expansion of the hex but i think it’s too weak given how har out they are and since they are farther from wanda as she doesn’t live right at the edge of town. we also learn that haydick hayward is planning to launch a missile or some kind of powerful weapon on/in to the hex to stop wanda. let’s hope it fails or if it goes through, wanda can point the missile/weapon back at SWORD and let it go.

“if he doesn’t wanna be here, there’s nothing i can do about it.” | wanda’s comment about vision not being home and response to billy asking if they should go looking for him. this clearly speaks to wanda not having any control over vision anymore. this is the first time we’ve seen the couple apart for the entirety of the episode. he’s gained enough sentience within the hex to not be controlled by wanda as other residents are. she knows she can’t rewrite or edit the scene for him to suddenly come through the door and have everyone be a happy family.

“he is not your uncle.” | wanda confirms to us that the pietro we’ve seen so far is a stranger and not some multiverse version of her dead brother. this to me also shoots down the theory of the multiverse existing at this point and wanda being responsible for it even though evan peters does play pietro in the x-men universe. i think it was a wink to fans about marvel gaining rights to the x-men franchise. i could be wrong but until then, ‘uncle p’ is sus to me.

“i don’t have all the answers” | wanda going on about how despite being their mother, she doesn’t have all the answers. this is the third time wanda’s been asked about the truth and she doesn’t have an answer. first with vision when he asks how all this happened. second with ‘pietro’ also asking how she created westview. now, it’s the twins seeking answers about their not-uncle if she’s claiming he’s an imposter and a liar. if anything, wanda has been consistent in this claim of not knowing anything. she knows she created westview but she doesn’t know how it got to be this way. i still believe she was offered something or was taken advantage of from the get go by someone else to get to her and observe how powerful she is. i personally love the twins’ reaction to her speaking on not having all the answers. hello yes i love them.

hayward’s interest in vision | we learn that project cataract is/was hayward’s plan to bring vision back to life. this man was trying to make vision into a weapon for SWORD and that’s why he’s so focused on vision inside the hex. wanda somehow brought him back to life despite hayward’s various attempts. i hate this man and i’m sorry but i hope monica and/or wanda beat the shit out of him. obviously, hayward was using SWORD’s resources to try and bring vision back to life but it’s a question of whether or not other people within SWORD knew this was happening and what the intentions were. because we also have monica’s contact be another agent working in SWORD. so why do i get the feeling that we’re gonna be dealing with a SHIELD 2.0 in which bad guys operate within the agency and it’s going to eventually fall like 2014?

“do you think maybe this is what you deserve?” | the interviewer asking wanda this question after we see her house starting to glitch like there’s no tomorrow. while later we do find out agnes is behind the mic, it made me think that this was mephisto finally coming out a bit since the question is very pointed at wanda. the interviewer wants to see wanda suffer because why would anyone ask such a thing let alone say that? they’re taking joy in wanda losing touch with her reality. this is the lowest we’ve seen wanda throughout the series. she’s usually put together - has a slight moment of crisis - but gets back on her feet for tomorrow to enjoy her life with her family. slowly it’s been building up to this point in which wanda just...crashes. she’s lost control in this reality so for the interviewer to pose that question, it’s a signal that someone else is in charge and going to come for wanda at her weakest.

the nexus commercial | this commercial is definitely referencing wanda during infinity war/endgame. the world goes on without you? could be talking about how the world keeps spinning after wanda lost the only family she had left or how everyone moved on in endgame despite losing the person she wanted to spend her life with. wanting to be left alone? all wanda wanted was to be with vision and now to be left alone as she lives out her life with vision in westview. i know the word nexus itself has a double meaning in marvel. nexus was first name dropped in aou, with it being the center of the internet located in oslo. in the comics, i know wanda is referred to as a nexus being in which this could definitely set up the multiverse as the commercial does state that the medication ‘anchors you back to your reality. or the reality of your choice.’ i’m guessing this is on purpose since we’re conditioned to see everything marvel puts out or puts emphasis on to have a double meaning. maybe wanda discovering that she is a nexus being in multiverse of madness could be what the side effects are talking about. if she’s confirmed to be this being, she’d feel a lot of feelings, confront her truth (maybe her role in westview and hopefully her trauma), seizing her destiny (taking control of her life and bigger role in the world), and possibly more depression (i don’t think she needs more of it but with her, it’s almost inevitable especially given where these next two weeks might be heading). given that it does hold two meanings for marvel, it could explain the scenes we’ve seen in promo footage of her time in sokovia with the mind stone. we were told that the show would explore more of wanda’s past from aou so maybe it is going to give nexus a double meaning in the mcu: the largest internet hub and wanda’s confirmation as a nexus being.

the twins with agnes | this scene had me anxious. billy commenting about it being quiet heavily hinted at how agnes isn’t like anyone else in westview. again, we’ve never seen her husband ralph and we still don’t see him in this episode. we get another glimpse of señor scratchy with billy holding him but that’s about it. the house is also a big contrast to wanda’s house and westview’s scenery overall. there’s usually a lot of light and warmth in westview but agnes’ interior is toned down and has darker tones throughout our time in it. clearly, a set up for the big reveal that everyone’s been echoing since the show started. this is also the last time we see the twins in the episode.

monica | after the SWORD rover failed to get through, monica goes right in and clearly her passing through a third time has a permanent effect. she’s finally got her powers and is more badass than before. i loved how we got bits and pieces from her, maria, carol and fury in captain marvel. monica has been one of the best characters in this series and i can’t wait to see what happens next with her.

it’s all about vision | monica’s explanation to wanda about hayward. i said this before about the end credits in the show always zooming in on vision’s eye to segway into the crystal sequence. we’ve learned that hayward was trying to bring vision back and somehow wanda managed to do this once she took his body. i wouldn’t be surprised if by the end of the season we see vision being the key to saving everyone in westview since hayward just wants what he believes is his and is willing to blow up a whole town to get it or cover his tracks. while this whole series has been focusing on wanda, this all boils down to vision.

agatha all along | of course the big reveal is agnes being agatha harkness and the mastermind behind a lot of the weird occurrences in westview. what is interesting is that she’s choosing to reveal herself to wanda in this way. it doesn’t seem like it was her plan to do it at the time she did but seeing that monica could’ve swayed wanda to go off script in agatha’s plans, better sooner than later. i think señor scratchy is none other than mephisto and maybe in the next episode we’ll see the other big bad reveal himself to wanda and us. when’s that bop dropping on spotify

snooper’s gonna snoop | finally, we get a post credits scene with uncle p and monica. we’ve learned that agatha was behind the ‘recasting’ of pietro but who is he?! he could be a multiverse!quicksilver we’ve never seen before - which could explain his skewed memories with wanda. right when the camera comes to view with monica, it cuts to the credits. i believe that maybe this pietro shapeshifts into who he really is - who this might be? i don’t think mephisto but possibly agatha’s son nicholas scratch since he seems to be an accomplice of hers?

ugh god so much to unpack and we have another two episodes before shit really hits the fan.

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

Connectivity

My one-shot has become a two-shot somehow. So here’s the continuation of yesterday’s ‘humans adopt a CombatUnit’ story. You can read the first part here.

(Cass)

"Shit, Kris, it's basically a toddler." I sucked in a breath and muttered curses at deities unknown.

Our newly adopted CombatUnit sat in the co-pilot's chair, eyes closed. It remained aware of the world around it, tensing when Kris accidentally dropped a wrench, but it no longer responded to our voices in any meaningful way. Its brainwaves looked like spaghetti, and the rest of its vital signs didn't fare much better.

I pulled up one of the modular cushion chairs and sat down next to the construct. I touched its chest through the blanket, and when it didn't startle or pull away, I rubbed large, slow circles across its chest. That seemed to calm to the Unit, though it still occasionally tried to break free of its restraints.

Watching it struggle broke my heart.

Serenity worked overtime to establish some kind of connection between my augments and the construct, which would hopefully resemble the brainwave patterns and data flow of a handler and stabilize the Unit. It was a hack job with a high probability of failure, but it was still better than letting the construct suffer.

Kris leaned over my shoulder like an asshole and peered at the SecUnit. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it was manufactured less than three years ago."

"Deity! Why the hell was it out there by itself, then?"

I shrugged and gestured at the news feed with my free hand. "Your guess is as good as mine."

A moment later, Serenity notified me that the connection framework was in place and my augments were functioning within reasonable limits. We'd see how long that lasted, but for now they wouldn't fry me or the SecUnit.

"All right, show time." I looked up at Kris. "If anything happens, Sere can disconnect us. But give it a few moments before panicking, all right? This is all jury-rigged, so it might take time for everything to kick in."

Kris pulled back and stared at me. "You're doing something dangerously stupid for a machine, love. This could give you a permanent lobotomy or a heart attack." He frowned and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Bringing this thing on board was a terrible idea."

I kept my voice low, but anger simmered under the surface. "So what was the alternative? Leaving it out there to die?"

"You know what I meant, Cass."

I thought I knew what he meant, but before I could say anything else, the world briefly fell away in a shower of sparks. My augments logged so many error messages at once that the log filled up instantaneously, but they managed to achieve calibration, and suddenly I was aware of another mind existing alongside my own.

The sensation was uncomfortable but mercifully brief.

Unlike me, the CombatUnit had all the appropriate wiring for a brain-to-brain connection, and it was designed specifically with a handler in mind. So, it had less trouble accepting the connection or responding to Serenity's commands to align itself with me.

I felt its fear and confusion and loneliness.

"Shh," I whispered, hopefully out loud. "It's all right. You're safe. You're aboard Serenity. Do you remember what happened?"

The construct blinked a few times before its eyes focused on me. Waves and waves of raw data — information about previous missions, vital signs, other statistics, and outputs from its diagnostics and governor module — flooded into my system. I backburnered all of it because I'm only human, and I would need time to review the data.

Lots of time I didn't have.

"Was that the answer to my question?"

The construct nodded.

Meanwhile, Serenity began parsing the vast amounts of data provided by the Unit. The ship's bot wasn't sentient by any stretch of the imagination, but it had enough pattern-matching and data-crunching modules that it put humans to shame.

A message from the ship popped up on my heads-up display, complete with a timer and dozens of lines of code I couldn't parse. The Combat SecUnit has relayed a concern regarding its continued functionality. There appears to be a countdown to its termination. Connecting to your augments has halted the countdown for an unknown amount of time.

"What? What? What the actual fuck?"

Brow furrowed, I stared at the results scrolling across my display surface and couldn't make heads or tails of them. I know how to repair a ship, not how to mind-meld with a human-bot hybrid created by some corporation with a negative amount of morals.

Kris joined in a shared workspace and also perused through the documents. "I've heard of this," he explained after seeing my stricken expression. "SecUnits have distance limits, I think. If they get too far from their clients, they governor module fries their brains."

"I didn't want to know that, but keep going anyway. How much worse could it be?"

My companion chuckled darkly. "It looks like the Combat models don't have a distance-to-client limit, per se. Instead, they rely on regular check-ins from a handler. Each time a handler contacts the Unit, the time to termination is reset. If the timer gets down low enough, the governor triggers a countdown to a shutdown sequence. Looks like there's a number of intermediate steps, but that's the gist of it."

I was absolutely lost for words. "We do this to people?"

"Yeah, Cass, the Corporation Rim does all kinds of awful things to people." My companion pulled back and paced the room. "It's why I escaped when I could."

"I didn't… know that."

Kris shrugged. "I don't usually talk about it." He waved the topic away with a careless hand. "Let's deal with the SecUnit."

I looked up at the construct and found it watching me with those unreadable eyes. The blank, neutral expression on its face might have belonged to a statue. At least its vital signs were slowly returning to more appropriate ranges, and it was no longer fighting its restraints.

"Try asking for its performance reliability?" the light-haired pilot suggested.

"What's that?"

"An overall measure of how well a construct is doing, usually."

I took a deep breath and squeaked, "SecUnit, what is your, uh, performance reliability?"

What I wanted to do was hide in my cabin for a few hours and maybe cry into a pillow, but we didn't have time for that. Not when we were authorized to leave the station in under three hours. This would be a bad time for a mental breakdown.

In the feed, the construct answered, 72% and holding steady.

That didn't sound like a canned response, which gave me hope.

[morepeachyogurt]

a sky full of stars (and she was looking at her)

Word Count- 2.8k

Pairing- Penemily

Summary- Penemily highschool au where they are paired up on a English assignment! Based on this post.

Part 1 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series

Read it here on ao3

Tw’s- very small mentions of substances, minor swearing

A/N- this is the first installment of a series based on my yearning posts, and my first time writing romance/3rd pov, I’d love some feedback!

It’s hard to miss Penelope Garcia. With her bright clothes and brighter personally it seems like the sun shines a spotlight on her. Her golden hair is like a halo around her, she looks like an angel, and perhaps one of these days Emily will get the courage to talk to her beyond small talk and group presentations. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the shrill bell rings, too loudly for her tastes but this whole building seems to scream at her, so perhaps it’s fitting.

Ms. Blake starts to talk about ancient poetry. The greats from the time periods before everything got so complicated. English is not Emily’s favorite class but somehow Blake’s class is more or less interesting, is it because she’s a milf? Maybe, who’s to say. As the class nears its end, she announces, “Alright, as we close out our poetry unit, we have one last assignment that hopefully at least one of you will enjoy, it’s a group project where-” immediately two hands go up ready to ask the question that always gets asked when a group project is announced. “Before you ask, no, you aren’t picking your partners, I am,” a collective groan comes out of about half the class. Emily isn’t too mad about it though, she doesn’t have many friends, especially in honors English. JJ barely passes English as it is. She’s all alone here, so she’s glad she doesn’t have to suffer through the awkwardness of trying to find a partner before everyone else does and ending up with the one kid who she’s pretty sure has been high the entire year and likes to leer at her in the hallway. “For this assignment, you’ll have to analyze one famous poem, from whatever time period you’d like, and write an essay about the poet’s intentions. If you’d like extra credit, which I know for a fact some of you need, you can do a reading of the poem in front of the class or do a drawing that represents it. Any questions?”

The classroom fills with questions of ‘when is this due?’ And ‘this sucks do we have to do this’. Emily however, is distracted by one very colorful girl in the upper left corner of the room, her spot in the back lets her admire the view without being caught, which tends to make it difficult to pay attention, but well, some things are just more fun than others. Her attention is drawn back to Blake when she hears her name followed by Penelope Garcia.

Oh shit.

On the one hand, this is exactly the opportunity she’d been looking for to ‘make her move’ so to speak, on the other, she’s terrified of making a fool of herself. Emily realizes that she’s been sitting for a bit too long when Blake stops talking and the rest of the class has already paired off. She catches Penelope’s eyes and tries to fight the blush of her cheeks. The sound of her docs hitting the linoleum is a bit too intense for this setting, she prefers their ‘clunk’ when it’s a crowded room, and she can walk like she owns the place. Emily sits down at the desk adjacent to Penelope and gets ready to ruin her chances with her.

“Okay! Hi! I’m Penelope! Which you already knew because Ms. Blake announced it, but it’s polite to introduce yourself to people so I thought I would do that now which I’ve done so I’ll stop talking now!”

Emily can’t help but giggle a little at her rambling, she doesn’t want her to stop talking quite yet, her voice melodic to her ears.

“So, I’m not big in poetry, I’m more of a comic book gal if you catch my drift, so I was hoping that you had some thoughts?” She drags the o in hoping and trails off waiting for Emily to fill in the blanks. It takes her a second too long because her brain is short-circuiting but she manages.

“Yeah okay, um, I’ve read some Sappho back when my mother was stationed in Greece? That could work?” she hopes bringing up Sappho wasn’t too obvious of her intentions, but it was all she could think of. Sappho had a point when she said ‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave – slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl’

“Yeah okay! Cool! We’ve got like 3 minutes left of class, would you want to go to Bricks and Beans after school to work on it?”

“Uh yeah, yeah, that, um, that sounds great! I’ll meet you in front of the school?”

“Yep!” She pops the ‘p’ and Emily thinks she can’t possibly get cuter.

Emily’s walk to lunch has never been quite this mix of excitement and anxiety as it is now. Hopefully, JJ will be able to make sense of what’s happening because the wires in Emily’s brain are very much twisted.

“Okay, I’m telling you it’s not a date,”

“Yeah I know it’s not technically a date but come on. I personally have never asked my group project partner to a coffee shop before. She obviously likes you.”

Jennifer Jareau has been blessed with the right combination of looks that ensures she never had to wonder if her crushes liked her back. Emily wishes she had that special brand of confidence, but it’s simply not realistic, the number of openly queer girls at school is small, the number of them that would be interested in her? Even smaller.

“Look I’m not going to be the loser that gets my heart broken all right,” she steals a fry off of JJ’s tray before her hand gets smacked.

“Ugh I’m so bored here, promise me you’ll at least try. I need some new drama around here and you two would be so fucking cute.”

“Fine. On the condition that when* it goes south you’re buying me ice cream.”

Emily’s day goes by slowly and all at once. Hours turn into years turn into seconds and before she knows it she’s awkwardly standing outside the building waiting for Penelope to meet her.

When she does, Emily’s pulse quickens ever so slightly in her presence. It’s annoying as hell.

“I was worried you were standing me up,” a futile attempt on Emily’s behalf of trying to seem calm, cool, and collected.

“What! I would never, I’ve been looking forward to getting a macchiato and hanging out with you and Sappho all day! Coolest ladies from recent history,” she has to try and stop herself from getting too excited at Penelope’s words, they don’t mean anything, she’s just some loser that she has to work with to get a good final grade in the class. A means to an end, disposable.

“I don’t think Sappho counts as recent history but thank you, ma’am,” ma’am? God, what is she doing, this is going to go south faster than the time she tried to wear ripped jeans to one of her mother’s stupid dinner parties. To her surprise, her stupid comment is met with a giggle on Penelope’s part.

“Why thank you darling,” she replies in a phony southern accent that makes them both crack up, “Lead the way.”

Bricks and Beans is the staple coffee shop where all the high schoolers hang out after school or work during college. The owners are a sweet old couple in their 70’s who seem to be reliving the past with the vintage decorations. The pair settle into a table in the back, a window next to them showing off the highway. Emily is tasked with buying the coffees and Penelope rattles off her order filled with things Emily’s never even heard of.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure the barista is laughing at me now but here is your sugar coffee with whipped cream,” she says as she slides into her seat, placing down the coffees on the minimal free space left.

“My savior,” she says, fake swooning, “Okay so, Sappho? That’s the lesbian right?”

Emily answers with a snort before actually replying, “Yeah that’s the lesbian. I’m sure Blake will love it. I’m like, 90% sure she’s gay.”

“Single English teacher who loves Oscar Wilde? Yeah, I get it. My gaydar is spectacular by the way.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods.

“Um, yeah, okay how about this poem:

‘and in your song most of all she rejoiced.

But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women

as sometimes at sunset

the rosyfingered moon

surpasses all the stars. And her light

stretches over salt sea

equally and flowerdeep fields.

And the beautiful dew is poured out

and roses bloom and frail

chervil and flowering sweetclover.

But she goes back and forth remembering

gentle Atthis and in longing

she bites her tender mind’”

“That’s gorgeous,” Penelope had a dreamy look in her eyes, like seeing a beautiful sunset for the first time. Except, instead of a sunset she was looking at Emily, seeing her, like for the first time, “I love when artists talk about the stars,” she leans back on her chair and looks up as if she’s looking at a constellation and not an off-white popcorn ceiling. Her collarbones are exposed and Emily feels like a 17th-century peasant pining over exposed ankles, “There’s just something about the stars ya know? They’re so far away, but sometimes it feels like we’re there with them. They twinkle at us and at each other,” she pauses to make eye contact, “maybe the greatest love story is in the sky,” there’s a beat too long, Emily doesn’t know how to respond to that comment, it’s hard to follow art without ruining it.

“Or maybe I’m just a sad sap for romance.”

“No!” She gets a of couple heads turned her way, the exclamation too loud for the environment, “I mean no, I get what you mean, they’re beautiful. Sometimes at night I go on my roof just to stargaze. It’s so peaceful there,” it’s now or never, “you should do it with me someday.”

“I’d love that,” it’s almost bashful, the two of them hoping the underlying meanings of their words are being shown, lest their hopes not be conveyed and come shattering down like a falling star.

The sun slowly sets as they work on interpreting the inter-workings of Sappho’s mind. The drinks run out so Emily buys them both hot chocolate, extra whipped cream and chocolate chips for Penelope. When she takes a sip, the whipped cream sticks to the side of her face.

“You got some whipped cream on your face,” she gestures to the offender in question. The blonde tries and fails, to get it off.

“Did I get it?”

“No, it’s more,” after some failed attempts, and the failure of Emily’s common sense, she decides to just get it off herself. It feels too intimate too quick, they both freeze, Emily’s hand inches away from Penelope’s face. Their eyes lock, scared brown eyes met soft blue ones and just for a second, there is peace in between their beating hearts and hands. Emily quickly brings her hand down and mumbles an apology.

After three hours they call it a night, Emily now the proud owner of Penelope’s phone number. On her drive home, she wonders if she’d done right, and she wonders if she’d done wrong. If she was clear about what stargazing meant to her. A branch into her world, her safe space. To share the dark night sky with something is to share your soul with them. Even JJ didn’t know about her nighttime viewings. Did Penelope feel the same way? The shared smiles and small laughs pointed yes. But Penelope was Penelope and Emily was Emily. How could an angel love a human? Why would it sacrifice its virtue for the danger of love? If Penelope was pink and Emily was dark green, could they mix and make something beautiful or would they both end up a ruined brown?

Dinner is tense as always, she does not share anything with her mother, she does not want to. They tiptoe around each other hoping that they won’t step on each other’s toes and crash. Emily retreats to her room the second dinner is over and opens a window. She loves that it gets dark earlier now. The fresh fall air trumps that tacky of scented candles that fill the house in a futile attempt to make it a home. She opens her laptop to finish the concluding paragraph of their essay. She allows herself to be lost in the words of another in order to avoid her own problems of love and belonging. Her phone rings. It’s her problems. They chat with careful conversation about their project and finally, it is finished. It looks good actually, or at least, to Emily it does. It’s not going to win them a Pulitzer, but they’ll get an A.

And then, “Hey.”

“Hey?” They’ve been on the phone for a half an hour, she’s not sure why she’s being greeted all of a sudden.

“Does your offer to stargaze still stand? It’s nice out tonight and, I don’t know, it sounded nice?”

“Yeah of course! Do you, um, do you need a ride or?”

“Nah I got my license and good old Esther. I do need your address though.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll text it to you. Who’s Esther?”

“My car! She’s a lovely thing thought she needed a name. I’ll be there in say, 15 minutes?”

“Sure. Bye Penelope.”

Holy shit.

Okay, she’s got 15 minutes to both have everything ready, but also seem completely casual about the fact that her crush is coming over to stargaze on her roof. The ambassador is long retreated either in bed or into her office, so she shouldn’t be a problem. Emily grabs a couple of blankets for them to sit on to avoid the chilly breeze and a bag of popcorn. She brushes her hair and touches up her eyeliner, not that it’s really visible in the dark, but it helps her feel confident which she’s desperate for at the moment. Her phone buzzes with a text, *im here!!!* It reads. She takes a deep breath before very slowly opening the door.

“Hi,” she whispers, the wind carrying her voice, but it’s just loud enough for its recipient. She closes the door

“Hi! So! Stargazing? That’s fun, I’m like, really excited it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this,” she somehow makes a whisper seem filled with enough energy to power a flashlight that Emily definitely should have brought. They make their way to the intersection where the hill meets the rooftop, and they only trip once, on a stick, but together they stay upright. Emily throws the blankets on the roof and climbs up on the chair before throwing her body on the roof. With her help, Penelope makes her way up after a couple of tries. By the time they lay the blankets out and are sitting down, they’re both practically crying from laughter, her nerves from earlier disappearing slowly.

The laughter fizzles out, and they’re both left staring at the stars. Penelope apparently is an expert of both astronomy and astrology so Emily’s ears are blessed with the sound of her voice. Like sunshine on a sweet summer day. She thinks that Penelope and her are like the sun and the moon, both beautiful, and complementary. Emily’s gaze shifts from the constellations to Penelope’s side profile. The stars shine almost as bright as her, and she can’t help but watch her instead. She can see the stars in her eyes, perhaps they were always there, but they’re more visible now looking in their reflection.

“God they’re beautiful,” Penelope says in awe. Like she can’t believe she’s blessed with the presence of the stars when really it is the stars who should have the honor.

“Yeah, yeah they are,” at this point she’s openly gazing at Penelope. When Penelope turns to meet her gaze she thinks she’s been caught, that it’s over and this night will be one for the ages in terms of beauty and heartbreak. Slowly, a hand makes its way to her cheek, cold like the air around them, but it somehow manages to set her skin on fire.

“May I?”

Emily nods and then they are lips on hers, it is sweet just like her. She’s being kissed under the starlight by a girl who deserves only beauty. Perhaps her dark green can be the field by the sunset of Penelope’s pink in the painting they make together. They do not have to mix, they can simply be combined to create something stunning. They can simply be. They pull apart slowly, and looking into her eyes, Emily thinks that the stars in comparison are simply dull. There is nothing as bright and beautiful in the world as the eyes of your lover.

Tag list- @royalpenelope @scandinavian-punk @kermitsaysgayrights

[pluto-writes]

Mori, Fitzgerald and Fukuzawa with an S/O who likes donuts!

Wildnya requested: mori, fiz, fuku hcs: s/o has an adorable love for donuts, homemade in particular. the boys find out by them mentioning it and she’s like “doughnuts?!” with sparkly eyes but denies it saying it’s childish for an adult to like them. they make some themselves for her and when they bring them to her she gets really excited and it’s extremely cute. now it’s their thing to make doughnuts together to relax together 

A/N: Thank you for the request! Also, these are a bit long, I don’t think I understand what I meant by headcanons (ᅌᴗᅌ* ) I’ll try to go shorter next time but I don’t understand how other writers can write such lovely headcanons with so few words.

Words: 2,075

Mori:

Elise’s sweet tooth decided to kick in again, and she was begging him to get her some doughnuts. You happened to overhear this ordeal between them and wanted to help sedate her sweet tooth, and maybe eat a couple doughnuts for yourself as well.

You approached Elise and started asking her about her favorite flavors, the more you talked about it, the more excited you got, and Mori noticed.

“(Y/n)? You like doughnuts too, I take it?”

“Huh?” Oh shit- You didn’t mean to get that excited over something as childish as doughnuts. “No, no. Not at all…” You lied stiffly. “I was just trying to know what her favorite type was, and besides, doughnuts are just for kids. I’m a mature adult, my taste is much more refined…”

“Oh, really? Like what then?”

“Oh you know…” In a panic you name a type of desert that isn’t well liked, “fruit cake...” Looking at Mori you can tell he’s eyeing you a bit as you answered, so to get away from the embarrassment you just put yourself through you gave a quick ‘bye’ and left the room.

“Interesting…” Mori mumbled to himself. He turned to Elise, “Come with me, Elise! How do you feel about us making our very own doughnuts?”

“Huh!? Our? You mean I have to share with you?”

You’ve been hiding out in your room since your encounter with Mori. You can’t believe you still get excited over something as childish as doughnuts. You’re an adult now and your tastes in things should’ve grown with you too but you just can’t help it!

While you were lost in your thoughts, someone knocked on your door. “Go away,” you weakly replied. 

“That’s not nice,” Mori pouted from the other side of the door, “I even made these doughnuts for you.” 

!!!!

You got up from your bed in a flash and opened the door to reveal Mori, and true to his word he had homemade doughnuts. Your eyes grew massive at the sight of them.

Without a second thought you grabbed one of the doughnuts, and they were still warm, just the way you liked it. Taking the first bite was always the best part. 

After you ate your first doughnut, your mood improved significantly! You wore a giant smile and thanked Mori.

“Now that’s the (Y/n) I like to see!” He gives you a quick kiss on the lips. “It tastes good. How about next time we make doughnuts together, okay?”

Fitzgerald:

After Alcott helped Fitzgerald get out of his slump, he decided to treat you by buying you something you’d enjoy. While on your little shopping trip, you seemed to be distracted the whole time, which he knew wasn’t like you. 

“We’ve been at this for a while now, haven’t we?” He turned to smile at you. “How about we give it a break for now and get something to eat?” You nodded at his suggestion and followed him. 

He noticed that you still seemed to be rather blank, so he started to name items he’s heard buzz about recently, “You know, I’ve heard people talking about hamburgers, and how popular they are, yet I never had one before. Maybe you’d be interested in that?” 

Nothing. “Hm, maybe something more sweet will give you a boost?” You slightly perked at that suggestion, but didn't comment on it. “What about cake? No, we’ve had that plenty of times before...hm.” He began to mull on it for a moment but then, “How about doughnuts!? I heard that they have different flavors.” 

Your eyes were sparkling. But you quickly lost them, “Doughnuts? Don’t you think that’s a bit childish? How about we eat some ramen? That’s popular here isn’t it?”

He thought it was weird with the sudden change of topic, since you usually go along with new foods he wants to try. And you looked excited, so why had you rejected the idea so fast, he wondered.

After your little shopping trip was finished he went to consult Alcott about potential strategies the Guild can do to earn their permit. Then he somehow got around to talking about you and how… off you had acted earlier.

“If I remember clearly… When Montgomery used to be here she used to eat all kinds of sweets with (Y/n).” Alcott racked her brain, trying to help her boss the best she can to understand why you had dismissed his choice when she was aware that you’ve eaten sweets on multiple occasions.

“Now that you mention it, (Y/n) said something about it being childish… how curious.” With a dramatic flare he called out, “Follow me now, Miss Alcott! We have some doughnuts to buy!”

Knowing that the two had different versions of ‘buying doughnuts’ she tried to stop him from making a huge mistake.“H-huh!? Doughnuts? Sir, I don’t mean to be rude but.. But perhaps they’ll appreciate homemade ones…” She waited anxiously, and played with her fingers.

“...” He put his hand against his chin then shouted, “Excellent idea! I’ve never made anything before so hopefully this’ll be my chance!”

Alcott could only hope that he doesn’t burn anything down. 

On his first attempt the mixture was too runny and didn’t get the proper shape.

His next attempt was slightly better, but when he put it to fry the oil began to pop which he wasn’t prepared for, and caused him to drop it.

After many attempts his best try was somewhat edible. Since he’s never had one before he didn’t have a base to go off and just thought that it was normal and got ready to show you. 

He couldn’t wait to show you, and hoped that this would turn your downcasted mood upside down.

He approached you with the plate behind his back, “Ta-da~!” He brought the plate into your view and gave you a huge smile. “Surprise! I made you doughnuts!” You stare dumbfoundedly at him, confused as to why he would do such a thing, but he just continued to ramble on. 

“I noticed that you were feeling down recently, so I made something sweet for you. Miss Alcott helped me make these, my first couple of tries didn’t work so well. But after all my attempts we managed to salvage the best looking ones.” You looked between the doughnuts and back to him. Breaking out into a big smile you jump into his arms, almost causing him to drop the doughnuts in the process.

“Thank you! Thank you!” You repeated into his chest. You figured the doughnuts wouldn’t taste that good since he had made them, but above everything it was the thought that counted and you were touched he had thought of making them for you. 

You pulled away from him and grabbed one of the doughnuts he had made. Upon grabbing it you could tell it was a little hard, but you still gave it a chance since the most important thing about homemade doughnuts was the love baked into them.

Taking your first bite was tough, but you managed. It tasted dry but you hummed at the taste anyway. You can feel his love reaching you, and how he tried his best to make you feel better.

“This is exactly what I needed, thank you.” Fitzgerald smiled wide at that, his mission had been accomplished. “Maybe… next time, you and I can make some together? I know we can make it better.”

Fukuzawa:

He had just officially started the Armed Detective Agency to use Ranpo’s gift to its full potential. And no longer held his title as the Silver Wolf, which allowed him to enter a relationship with you, and not have your life in immediate danger.

And he may not show it, but you can tell he’s been happier recently. Lighter even. 

“Fukuzawa~ Buy me more sweets~” Ranpo pouted. “I worked really hard today, I deserve it!” 

You laughed at the young boy’s antics. With him around everything ran along more smoothly due to his smarts. “And what would you like to have Ranpo? My treat this time, since you’ve been so diligent lately.” You gave him a comforting smile. 

“Really!? Yay!” He cheered at your offering. “I want to have donuts! I’ve never had donuts from Yokohama before!”  

“Ooo! Good choice! I know of a good donut place nearby, they taste just as good as homemade!” At the mention of donuts, your excitement easily leaked out. 

“You do, (Y/n)?” Fukuzawa said. “I never knew you liked donuts so much.” He didn’t speak much unless it was necessary. So was it so weird for you to like donuts that he asked about it? Feeling embarrassed about it, you came up with a quick lie. 

“Me? Liking donuts!?” You laughed nervously, “Fukuzawa you shouldn’t joke like that. Donuts are for kids, like Ranpo to have. An adult like me shouldn’t indulge myself to such childish things like that.” 

You looked around the room, looking for an excuse until your eyes landed on the clock. “Oh! Would you look at the time! I have a place to go to now and I can’t be late!” You moved past Fukuzawa and went out the door. 

“Strange… I didn’t know (Y/n) had business to attend to today.” Fukuzawa accepted your poor attempt at an excuse and was about to go back to his work until Ranpo interrupted him.

“Cause they didn’t!” Ranpo groaned, “They were obviously lying!”

“Lying…?” Fukuzawa knew not to doubt Ranpo’s abilities since he’s seen how smart he was first hand, but he couldn't imagine as to why you would lie.

“Yeah. Adults are so weird. Lying over something so simple as donuts.” He shook his head, “Man, I really wanted to try Yokohama donuts too…” He continued to pout.

“Oh! I know!” Fukuzawa looked up at him. 

“Hm?”

“You can make donuts!” He grinned mirthfully. Bouncing in his spot. 

“Why would I-”

“Think about it! (Y/n) is embarrassed about eating donuts cause it’s ‘childish’, whatever that means,” Ranpo huffed out. “If you make them donuts then they won’t feel so shy about it!”

‘Hmm. It is a good idea.’ Fukuzawa thought to himself, ‘but this is a bit out of character for Ranpo…’

“And plus! Once they know that donuts aren’t just for kids, they’ll take me out to get them!” 

‘Oh. Of course he’d say something like that.’ But Fukuzawa smiled anyway. He thought about it more, and it would be nice to make you something. He could show his appreciation for you by making you something you’d enjoy.

Fukuzawa agreed with Ranpo’s idea and began his personal mission, to make his lover donuts.

Once you finished running small errands to fill in the time, you walked back to the agency. Upon opening the door, you were met with an unmistakable fragrance.

‘Donuts!’ You thought happily. Though that thought was immediately stopped. ‘Knock it off, (Y/n). It’s probably for Ranpo.’

You walked further into the office and was met with the sight of Fukuzawa, waiting for you there. On the table beside him sat a plate of donuts. They had a light brown color to them, cooked perfectly.

“W-what’s this all about?” You asked, clearly confused.

“You see, you said that liking donuts are childish, but I don’t think that’s true.” His voice came out, his eyes turning soft at the sight of you. “To show you that adults are capable of eating donuts, I made us some. You like homemade ones best, correct?” He smiled, gently, which expelled any doubts you had in mind.

You grab one of the donts he made, and bite into it, savoring the taste. They tasted surprisingly good! You never took Fukuzawa as someone to be so good at baking.

“It's… very delicious,” you said bashfully. “Um…” Your eyes shifted anxiously, “Thank you, Yukichi.” Your face grew hot. 

His heart melted at the sight, and it showed on his face. “Of course.”

You continued to eat the rest of the donuts with Fukuzawa, blissfully unaware of the green eyes watching you. 

“You know, I had fun making these donuts. Hopefully next time we can make them together, what do you think?” Fukuzawa asked as he finished his last donut. 

“I think I’d like that,” you smiled at him, “And when we do, we can share them with Ranpo. I don’t think he’d like the fact that we ate these without him.”

[a-small-tired-lonely-potato]

Pierrot & Ballerina

“Kuro?”

“Yee?”

“... Nah It’s nothing.”

“If it was nothing ya’ wouldn't've asked, now would ya’?”

“Well… Why-... You-... mmm”

“Come on Squirrel just ask me, you know I’m available for all intrusive questions, even the really gross one about adult things. Although if I’m being honest, I was hoping for at least a couple more years of anything but tha-”

“OH MI GOSH SHUT SHUT SHUT IT’S NOT ABOUT THAT!!!”

“Then what is it Lu?”

“... Why can’t I meet our siblings?”

_____________________________________________________________

And to be honest, why can’t she? The old creeper is dead and gone isn’t he? Not to mention whatever voodoo magic that blonde kid did on Gaara made him better… Well not that much better, but at least he isn’t threatening to kill me every five minutes, and let’s be honest I used to think asking for that was like asking for world peace and endless sandwiches.

Not to mention with how great it’s been recently, a simple meeting should be no problemo!

It’s been calm here... really calm actually. You’d think the entire village would be panicking what with the death of the Kazekage, the failed invasion of Konoha, whatever the fucks going on with Gaara.

But no, despite all of that it’s calm?

I know the Leaf can’t exactly accuse us of much considering Orochimaru was responsible for most of the tomfuckery and they did technically unleash him upon the world. But still! You think they would’ve at least demanded something?!

...Fuck I’m paranoid, why can’t I just appreciate this? There’s nothing suspicious about this, Snake-Face only had power here because he stole the Kazekage’s face. Dickbag wasn’t smart enough to plant spies in our ranks or gain any more test subjects while he was in power. He was so focused on the Leaf that he ignored all the power he could’ve gotten from the Sand, the only one he might’ve been even remotely interested in is Obsidian, and he’s already made it crystal clear what he would do if he ever crossed paths with that Snake-Face again.

I know this, I made sure, I’m the only one who made sure!

So why don’t I want her to meet them?

“KUUUROOOOO!! I’M BAAACK!!!”

Speak of the devil.

“Really? Who would've guessed? Oh hey you wanna try that yell again? I’m not sure Mars heard you.”

She snorts and hits my arm before sitting on top of the oak kitchen island. “Stuff it Miriko’s, you know you're deaf as shit, last time I entered the house quietly you threw a pot at my head thinking I was an intruder.”

I wave my spatula at her before affirming. “That was because I was on a week-long mission and hadn’t slept that entire time, under those conditions even Shari would have thrown that pot at you. And hey, you dodged so what’s the issue?”

As I plate our food out onto plates Luci shrugs and replies. “I don’t know, I once heard Shari stayed awake for three weeks clinging onto the bottom of a carriage in order to carry out her mission.”

“Those are just rumors.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… it was just a week and a half. No need to blow it out of proportion.”

Luci ended up laughing so hard she snorted her milk, but as always, breakfast was great. We stayed there in the kitchen for a while, just chatting. Unlike usual, she could ask me about anything she wanted, no secret missions or classified files to worry about anymore.

I know she won’t tell me herself, but I know me being gone so long affected her in a bad way. Hiragano says she’s getting better about me leaving since our last duo-chat together but I worry about her and our deadlines. Hopefully after the chunin exams the council will let me go solo and my schedule won’t be so finicky anymore.

But I can work on that later, now I have bigger fish to fry.

“Hey Luci?”

She looks up from her paint log and gazes at me questioningly. “Yeah? What’cha need?”

Taking a breath as I calm myself, I reply. “Do you still want to meet our family?”

Her reaction breaks my heart, her eyes light up at my question before remembering our last conversation and turning her face back to her catalog. “Nah it’s fine, we got ta’ much going on for us to have a impromptu family meet-&-greet on top of everything.” She says that, but I know better.

She’s been waiting for this, and she deserves them, they deserve her too. I can’t stretch this out any longer just because of my personal feelings.

“I know our last conversation ended… Abruptly, and I’m sorry for that Lu, I was upset and I should have waited until I wasn’t angry to have that debate with you.”

She crosses her arms on the counter and lays her head on them. “It was my fault too… You just got back from a mission, a bad one too, I should’a waited until you finished dinner at the ver’ least…”

I sigh remembering that truly awful day. I had just gotten back from a mission that went all the worst kind of ways, Gaara had snapped halfway through and killed the target we were supposed to interrogate, Baki had been on my case regarding my untimely disappearances, Temari got her shoulder busted by a enemy while I was out gathering intel, and the ever so “Delightful” Lord Kazekage made me stand for three fucking hours listening to him chatter on about how all of that was my fault and how I should have done better.

All in all, it was the perfect hell. So you can imagine how tired I was when I finally made it home, and when Luci asked me about meeting everyone… It didn’t go well.

“Luci, we both could’ve done better that day, I should’ve postponed it...” I held her hand while tapping her forehead, she lifted her head from her arms and continued for me. “And I should’ve waited.”

As I hold onto her hand I sigh as we both say. “We will do better next time, and there is Always a next time.”

Mantra completed. Now for talkies. ”I think I would be willing to have you meet them, Luci. It’ll be just for a bit, no moving in, no guaranteed future meetings, no proclamations on Family-dom, just a meet-up for lunch and if it goes well, I’ll consider more outings.”

She looks happy but still doubtful. “That sounds great Kuro, but we don’t haf’to, we can wait until my Chunin exams like we planned. I know you’re worried for my safety. We can wait…”

I smile and kiss her forehead. “I musta’ did something real good to get you as a sister Squirrel. I appreciate you so much. And ta’ make sure you believe me, I’m gonna trust you when you say you’re ready.”

I realized why I didn’t want her to meet them. I wanted these days to last forever, her and me, brother and sister, Pierrot and Ballerina. Temari has always had friends, Baki has trusted comrades and loads of subordinates, even Gaara had Yashamaru for a short time, and then his Bijju, and now Naruto. But Luci was all I had, all I have.

Luci was all mine, and in turn I was all hers. My stolen treasure. I wanted to keep it just us forever. But in true Luci fashion, the sparkle in her eyes chased away the last of my doubts. “You mean it?”

I nod my head and answer. “Lucida, Let’s meet our family.”

As she hugs me and whispers. ”Thank you so much Kankuro.”

I can only hope I haven't made a wrong decision...

_____________________________________________________________

*First time writing Fan fiction tbh, not sure how it went. If y'all want more let me know kay? This was just a lil brain drabble I wrote for my comic.

*If Y'all have any questions as always Let-mah-no.

[chayscribbles-archive]

MR&F NaNo 2020 recap

initial goals: to write 50 000 words for muddy roads & foxgloves, OR finish 3 episodes

what i ended up accomplishing: 

writing 50 006 words

finishing episode 0, getting a big chunk of episodes 1 and 2 done + various scenes from other episodes

writing a chapter of my FinnPetra flower shop AU because that TOTALLY counts

writing 2 fluffy post-series prompts

some more thoughts about the last month and other fun things below the cut.

looking back, starting nano THE VERY SAME WEEK i started a new job working from home probably wasn’t the best idea lmao (not to mention, you know, *gestures vaguely* everything else).

more often than not i found the words were dragging, and i think a lot of it was due to brain being Tired from reading Big Fancy Academic Articles all day 😞

a lot of the writing that came out of this month was trash LET’S BE HONEST lmao. but it did help me figure out some plot points and character things i would have never known otherwise, so i have some good starting points for the second draft.

going forward, i’m gonna try to finish up the important parts of episodes 1 & 2 in the next few weeks, and then i’ll take a break from doing any “real” writing before i either start the second drafts of the first three episodes or continue the first drafts of the other episodes? we’ll see.

and now, some sexy graphs i made for funsies!

if you’ve read this far, here’s some writing, as a treat 😌 this is from one of the post-series FinnPetra domestic fluff drabbles ehehe

“Hey,” Finneas interrupted. “Have you even had anything to eat yet?”

“No,” Petra admitted. “But I need to get this started as soon as possible and preferably finish it well in advance—”

Finneas started towards the fridge. “Eggs sound good?”

“What? No,” Petra protested. “You don’t have to make me anything. I’ll grab something later.”

“You need to eat,” he said firmly, flinging open the fridge door and rummaging through its contents. Taking out the carton of eggs and some butter, he added, "You won't be able to fill out those forms on an empty stomach. Where's your frying pan?"

Petra slipped her glasses back on and pouted at him. "I'm not telling you."

Finneas threw a glance at her over his shoulder and gave her a smirk before turning back to his search of the cupboards. "Why, are you mad because I'm right?"

"Yes."

He shook his head, amused, and pulled out the frying pan from the top of the stack. “Too bad,” he said. “You’re gonna get breakfast whether you’re mad at me or not.”

“You’re so obnoxious, plant boy,” Petra whined, watching him work the stove. 

“And you’re so stubborn, plant girl.”

finally, big thanks to everyone who followed my progress over the month, those who helped me brainstorm, those i did writing sprints (spronts?) with, and those who encouraged and validated me!! 💕 

mr&f taglist:

@wordsofpaintandsmoke @mqrginalia @ilikecoffeealotokay @fields-of-ink @suninks @aaaa-mpersand @piyawrites @cilly-the-writer @extra-magichours @jadeywrites @alicewestwater @quenvicky @lefttigerobservation @quilloftheclouds @llesbianwrites @chloeswords @themidnxghtwriter @writingbyjillian @etoileemacabre @aelenko @water-writings @nicopeppah @everything-pineapple-chan @zielenbloesem @summere21 @hope-hopefully-writes @thepeninthestone @santinas @talesofsorrowandofruin​ @medeaes @thelittlestspider @oceancold

[bungou-stray-dingus]

Now What?

Pairing : Michizo Tachihara x fem!Reader

A/N : First fiction for our underrated best boy Tachihara! Hope you enjoy this Angst!

T/W : Angst! Just a bunch of angst.

Word Count : 2.0K

Angstember Day 2

You had first seen him when you joined the Port. Gin was walking you down the long halls, he was walking in the opposite direction but he had caught your eye. There was something about him, you couldn't put your finger on it at the time, but you knew that you wanted him, that you wanted to be with him. You weren't sure how you would make that happen, but you knew it had to happen anyway.

You rolled over and saw his beautiful auburn hair shining a brilliant copper in the rising sun. He was already awake, staring at the ceiling with his arms folded behind his head. You could tell that he was in deep thought, something was on his mind, his lips turned down in a scowl that would put anyone else off, but you thought he looked adorable. You craned your neck to press a swift kiss to his cheek before pulling the blankets off and scooting out of the bed.

"You want anything for breakfast, babe?" You asked, standing at the end of the bed, leaning over the post as you stared at him.

"Nah, I'm fine. Probably gonna try to go back to sleep for a little bit before work. Wake me up when you're done eating though." You nodded, heading out of the room and quietly shutting the door behind you.

Something must have really been bothering him, he wasn't the type to skip out on breakfast. You wouldn't pry though, he was a "suffer in silence" type of person, he hated being questioned. If he really wanted to talk about it, if it was something that was really eating away at him, he knew that he could come to you and talk about it. You would make your breakfast and eat, and hopefully he would be feeling a little better by the time you were finished.

The eggs were frying in one pan, the bacon sizzling in another filled the silence that hung in the air. You heard the bedroom door open, and when you looked up from the stove you saw him emerge, fully dressed, ready to head out. "Did they call you in early?" You weren't used to him leaving without you, but you knew that sometimes he was needed in earlier than you were, but he also usually waited for you.

"Hm? Yeah, I didn't want to take you away from your breakfast, so I'll just meet you there." His response was dry, his amber eyes were distant, staring past you out the large kitchen window behind you. He didn't kiss you goodbye, he didn't hug you, he went straight for the door and walked out. It hurt, it didn't feel right, but you didn't want to bother him, so you went back to working on your breakfast.

You ate quickly, burning your mouth in the process. The way that he left had bothered you, it wasn't like him to act like that. You needed to know what was going on, help him figure it out so that you could have back your Tachihara.

You hurried around the kitchen, cleaning all the pots and plates you had used, making sure that everything would be perfect for when the two of you returned home from work. When you finished with the kitchen you ran to the room that you shared with him, making the bed before changing into your work clothes. You would get to the bottom of whatever it was that had him acting this way.

The bus ride to work felt strange, he wasn't next to you, his arm wasn't wrapped around you to held keep you steady whenever the bus jerked to a stop. He would sometimes rest his chin on your shoulder, kissing the back of your ear as he pulled you closer against his chest. He was always so gentle with you, making sure that you felt safe, and there was nothing that made you feel more secure than having his arms around you.

You pulled the rope to stop the bus a street away from the headquarters, stumbling forward when the driver slammed on the brakes a little too hard. You sighed, feeling your body heat up with embarrassment as you stepped off the bus, making your way quickly to the building so you could forget about what had just happened. The only thing you wanted right now was to see him, to make sure he was okay.

"Good morning Y/L/N." The secretary at the front of the building greeted you with a smile and you nodded to acknowledge her as you walked straight to the elevator that would carry you up to the floor where he usually was. You didn't want to pester him, you didn't want to seem overbearing, it's just that things didn't feel right.

When you got off the elevator you saw him walking down the hallway with Hirotsu, the smoke from his cigarette rising up into the air from in front of him. You quickened your pace so that you could meet up with them, and you could tell something was totally off when Hirotsu was the only one to offer you a smile as a greeting. You could have stopped him, grabbed his arm to get him to look at you and tell you what was wrong, but you didn't want to embarrass him, so you decided against it. "Good morning Hirotsu. Have you seen Gin?" You asked, deciding that you would keep your mind busy with training. Whatever it was could be dealt with later when you and Tachihara were alone.

You were in the middle of training with Gin, both of your knives wielded, ready to slice through the open space between the two of you as you both circled around each other. That's when your eyes caught the silhouette in the doorway, the auburn hair alerted you to who it was immediately, you had lost track for only a split second and she had your knife on the floor and hers against your throat. "Dammit, you got me." You sighed as she pulled the knife away. "Did you plan this?" You asked, looking over to Tachihara.

"No, I think he needs to talk to you though. He seemed on edge when he came in. I don't know what his problem is." She said, shaking her head as you both were now looking at him. His arms were folded against his chest, his back leaning against the frame of the door. You could tell that he was looking at you, you could feel his eyes on your face, and for some reason that made you slightly nervous, a little uncomfortable even.

You sheathed your knife in your back belt loop and walked over to him, it felt like your shoes were filled with lead. You didn't understand why you felt so scared, he was your boyfriend, you knew that he would never lay a finger on you, but something in your gut was telling you that something wasn't right, that something was terribly wrong. When you finally reached him, he didn't say anything, nothing at all. He slipped his arm around your waist and practically pulled you to the elevator. It didn't feel normal, it wasn't the feeling that you usually got when he wrapped his arm around you, everything just felt wrong.

"What is going on?" The elevator doors had shut and as soon as they did he had pulled away from you, he was on the complete other side of the elevator. You could see it in his eyes, they were darker, he was planning something and you wouldn't like the outcome of it. Your brain seemed to already know what was going to happen, but your heart refused to believe what your mind was saying.

"Wait until we get somewhere private. You're so impatient sometimes, you know that?" He grumbled, you weren't used to him using that tone with you. Had you done something wrong? You tried to think back, tried to find any reason that he would be this way towards you, but you came up blank. There was no reason for it, not on your end anyway.

"Michi..." You whispered his name, taking a step closer to him just as the doors opened. He rolled his eyes and stepped out, leaving you in the elevator, trying to understand what was going on.

"Will you hurry up? And, don't call me that here. God, that's embarrassing." You weren't about to cry, nope. You could keep telling yourself that, but you felt your chest tighten up, the lump rising in your throat, and the sudden urge to throw up. He never seemed bothered that you called him that before, you had used that name for him many times at work. He would usually come up and kiss you on your cheek when you did so. Now he was yelling at you, scolding you for it. What had caused the sudden shift?

You followed him to an empty room on the top floor, the ray of sun shining through the window showed the disturbed dust particles floating around freely. You had never been on the top floors, there was never a need for it. The rooms had been empty for a while, undisturbed and unneeded, but now you were here with him, and at this point you felt like you knew what was coming.

"How long were you planning on doing this, Michizo?" You tried to make yourself sound strong, unbothered by what was about to happen, but inside it felt like you were dying. It felt like your heart was breaking into pieces with each passing second, it felt like your airways were closing up more and more as you waited for him to say it.

"It's nothing you did wrong. It's not your fault Y/N."

"Oh don't give me that shit. It's not you, it's me... right? Right?! Save it!"

"I just don't want to be tied down right now. It's not good for me, it's not good for you."

"How do you know what's good for me?" You scoffed at him, at this point you were more angry than upset. You knew this speech, you knew what it meant. It would have been better if he had just said that he was leaving you because you weren't compatible, some bullshit like that would have been easier to stomach. Not this though, this felt like someone had stabbed you, and every time he spoke it was like someone was twisting the blade.

"Y/N... I- I've found someone else." You heard him clench his teeth as he waited for your response. How were you supposed to respond to that though? Were you supposed to congratulate him for cheating on you? Tell him "good job" for being unfaithful?

"So that's it... this is it for us? This is how it ends? That's great, that's fucking fantastic. Thank you. Really, thank you for this."

"Y/N."

"Don't... don't say my name. I- I hate you... I hate you so much." You felt like you couldn't breathe, it was like your entire world came crumbling down around you. You could barely hold yourself up.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You're sorry?! God, people like you make me so fucking sick!"

"It's not like I don't love you... I just... I need to figure things out." You were on your way out of the room, but his words had made you freeze. Figure things out? His words had you seeing red, you turned on your heel to face him. "I know that sounds wrong, but-"

"You need to figure things out?! What does that even mean? You want to be able to sleep around with whoever you want while you keep me on the back burner? You want to keep stringing me along by saying you still love me? For what? What's the reason Tachihara?"

"It's complicated, Y/N."

"Do what you want, I don't care. But know this, I'm not going to be there when you decide to come back after you figured things out."

You walked out of the room, slamming the door behind you. The rage you felt, the anger and sadness, the pure heartache, you would use it to make you stronger.

He stood in the dusty room, his hands shoved in his pockets as he stared at the door you had just walked out of. It felt wrong, but he knew that he done the right thing. With everything that was going on, he knew it would be better to break your heart now rather than later. Maybe one day he'd be able to meet up with you again, he would tell you the truth about why he had done this, and maybe you'd understand. You'd know that that's the reason why he couldn't bring himself to say he didn't love you anymore, because as much as he wanted to lie to you, he couldn't lie about that. He loved you, and that's why he needed to make you leave.

[ruinedandnotorious]

tumblr, listen.

i have a lot on my mind and i need to get it out and i have too many other people looking at my other social media accounts to say it all there. i should’ve known my old pal tumblr would be there for me.

woo lord, i am frustrated. and anxious. i keep feeling like i’m on the precipice of something. that all of my work and hope and traction is going to lead... somewhere. somehow. sometime. but i don’t know how or with who and certainly not when and i wish the when was yesterday. 

i have so many ideas i can’t get off the ground for whatever reason. i’ve tried though! i sent off some applications, submissions and emails this week that will hopefully yield some kind of results. yesterday i was very much in that mindset of, “they can bite you, but they can’t eat you,” so i just went for things. 

i’ve put things out into the world, but it never hurts to put them out there more. so, here goes.

i am lucky to have the job that i have. the money sucks, but my boss is super flexible with my time and supportive of my volunteer work. i actually really like every single coworker, which has never happened before, lol. 

right now, though, we are only working 30 hours... which is PERFECT for my mental health, but AWFUL for things like rent and bills. i’m making it, but that’s literally it. i need more money, majorly. but man, i enjoyed the hell out of unemployment last year. i want a new job - one that pays well - and one that doesn’t feel like work. i know, that’s everyone’s dream. but i feel like i am so close to getting there but it’s always just out of reach.

my job is fine, truly. it’s easy. it’s cushy - i’m working from home, thank god. BUT staying inside all day is getting to me physically and, unless i have a work meeting or am recording my podcast, i don’t talk to anyone but my cat (and my mom, by phone), so it can really drain my mental health. but i also don’t want to get out too much because, hello, goddamn covid.

this last year has taught me a lot, but it’s also changed how i socialize. i’ve always been introverted but it’s worse now and i’m picky about who/how i socialize. i have this one friend that i’ve known since elementary school. we’ve always been friends, but never super close. we have nothing in common, literally nothing. for a while, that didn’t matter. it was fun to catch up. now, though? the friendship feels like a chore. i hate saying that. but i don’t know that either of us get anything out of it, really. but she keeps trying to reach out and i’ve ignored her every time. i’ve ignored her for MONTHS. she deserves a response. but i also know that any response will just fuel the fire. i hate to be like, can we not? but every time i try to work myself up to respond to her, i just can’t. it’s like my brain is like, no, we’re not saying anything. no. don’t even consider it. i just have this block. i feel so bad saying that. she’s done nothing wrong! but i also know i tiptoe around stuff because, again, we have nothing in common, so it’s not like i can just freely speak my mind about anything. she doesn’t give a shit about anything i’m into an vice versa, so it’s frustrating to just update my life like, “well, i work, that’s it.” because she doesn’t give a damn about anything else i’m doing or am into. UGH. like. why does she want to keep this going? i had someone - like a best friend (not this friend i’m talking about, but one that’s much closer to me) - tell me recently that i am a shitty friend so... this is proof. yay.

anyway. i met someone recently who blew my damn mind. she’s a spiritual advisor/counselor, and we instantly connected about so many things but i also learned so much from her - in just the few hours we talked. i want to do an actual session with her, but her rates are high and i don’t have the money. i’ve thought about asking her if i could trade some social media services for a session - like basically be her social manager for a month - but i also know money is money and she’s worth actual money, not likes/followers on social. i don’t know. i do not want to disrespect her; i know she’s worth every penny.

but she did confirm some things i’ve wondered about in terms of those i’ve lost. she gave me a bit of peace. but i have more questions. like, a whole page of questions, lol.

she also opened my eyes to some healing work i need to do on myself... in a lot of ways, but especially in regards to my last job and how they fucked me over. i have so much anger and hurt from that, a year later. and i even consider what they did to me a blessing - it’s really led to a life that is more in line with what i actually want and value. i’m just angry at how it all went down and how they still act - or don’t - toward me. 

the mag i work for let me write about my dad’s passing and the complications of covid grief, so that was great - i had an outlet for that. but how do you go about getting your feelings out about your last employer... who’s a major player in town and who drives tourism for the city.. lol. i’m sure i’ll let it all out here sooner or later.

i jumped back on a dating site, 100% for the distraction, not because i thought i’d actually meet someone. which is probably why i haven’t, lol. like... no one even comes close to what i think i want in a man. i keep hoping someone will show up at the cemetery... yes when i’m covered in graveyard dirt and sweat and looking my worst... i also feel bad that i keep hoping the cemetery will answer all of life’s questions and fix me in all the ways. like. my expectations are too high - of a cemetery! - so i’m sure my expectations for a guy are too high too.

i’m also not ready to meet someone because i am physically just not into a relationship either. i’m my biggest i’ve ever been. i was doing so well at  becoming body neutral - just accepting of my body, not so much loving it - but woo lord, i somehow gained like 10 pounds over the last week and i am feeling it, big time. idk how i’ve gained so much when i mostly eat at home? and i don’t think i’m eating THAT bad at home? i never fry anything? i do eat a lot of cheese i guess. i don’t know. gonna go to the doctor soon and i’m sure THAT will be a fun visit. plus, my hands - especially my left hand - has really bad trigger finger (i’m guessing that’s what it is, it meets all of the symptoms on webmd lol) and it hurts so bad. i don’t wanna go back to an ortho. 

there are other issues, specifically concerning shark week (i asked my psych doc about it and she made me feel normal, so thank god for her), that i’ve got to get squared away, too. it feels like my body has just ran away from me and i can’t control any part of it.

i’ve read so many good books in the last year, holy shit. lately i’ve been watching movies while i work and holy shit, classic movies are so damn good. claude rains, man. 

pose is amazing. blanca is like, the perfect human ever? if ever i run away to start a new life, i’m using the name elektra abundance. i. love. elektra. so. much. 

i’m angry at myself because i’ve always wanted to collect mini brands and dammit i finally bought my first ball and... yep. i wanna get ‘em all. they are $7 a ball. i don’t need this stupid, expensive thing to be into.

that’s just it. i wish i had the money for little frivolous things like that. there’s an edgar allan poe tarot deck at my local witchy shop that i am DYING for. i want a new tattoo - not even anything that big or expensive! 

i really want a damn vacation. i feel so bad saying that. but i just want out of this area for a second.

SIGH.

generally... life’s alright. i just want it to be better and maybe a little more exciting.

[planetsam]

The impact is jarring.

“Shit, sorry,” the apology comes quickly and from his spot on the ground, Alex tries not to pray for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He wishes he had two left feet instead of the awful truth, “here, let me—“ he drags his eyes from the hand to the face and inhales sharply.

“Guerin?”

He looks different. Older. But the pain in his eyes is chillingly the same. Alex ignores the hand and finds his footing as he makes his way to his feet. It’s not how he saw this reunion going. Then again, nothing is how he saw it. Michael’s hand lingers for a moment before it falls to his side. He tucks it away before Alex can see the scars and while he appreciates the sentiment, they’ve been burned into the back of his eyes since the hammer was brought down. He focuses instead on Michael and forces himself to take in the man he’s become. He’d be lying if he said it hurts but he’s got no right to feel anything about how Michael’s turned out.

“Hi,” Michael says and however Alex was expecting his voice to sound, small is not it. Something shows on his face because he can pinpoint the instant Michael’s walls come down, “what are you doing here?” He asks.

“That’s—“

“Classified?” Michael offers and Alex rolls his eyes at his tone, “didn’t realize the ufo emporium was hosting actual aliens these days.”

“I was going to say none of your business,” Alex cuts in, “I figured you’d be long gone by the time I came back.”

Michael scoffs, looks away and Alex feels his hackles rise. Michael’s looking for a fight, again. Apparently nothing has changed. The scruffy, hollow look is still the same, he’s still finding sleep in the bottom of a bottle. Alex doesn’t know how someone so bright can throw their lives away like that, but hell there’s a lot about him Alex knows he’ll never understand. He’s got better things to do with his time anyway.

“I guess if you ever came back you’d have known,” Michael sneers. It’d be an ugly thing if there wasn’t something so sad about it.

“I never had a reason to come back,” he says instead, “and you’re right. Now the reason’s classified.

“Well I’ll let you get to your super secret alien business,” he says with a fake salute, “oh there’s a metal detector in there now,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks away, “don’t forget your keys, coins and whatever else you’ve got.”

Alex cringes at the thought of struggling out of his prosthetic. Or presenting that stupid card he was given. His mouth goes dry. He doesn’t want to answer the questions that will follow. Not today. He decides this trip was stupid, he’s not a teenager trying to get out of the house. He’s an adult who can leave whenever he wants.

Besides, he doesn’t exactly need to seek out memory lane when it’s apparently walking around town.

*

“Nothing ever changes with you, does it?”

Michael’s shoulders stiffen and Alex immediately regrets his question. He could blame it on the liquor but he knows that’s not it. Not after a night of watching Michael slip in and out of dark corners with different people. There’s a growing pain in the back of his skull but he’s pushed past worse. Right now he’s focused on Michael. Michael sets down the glass and glares at him.

“You got something to say?” He challenges and Alex feels his muscles tense.

“I just did,” he shoots back.

“Screw you,” Michael snaps and much to Alex’s shock he turns and walks away.

Maria shoots him a look and shakes her head but Alex is past caring. He follows him. He has orders to be here and he can’t do that if every moment Michael is there making different parts of him hurt. He follows him out into the night, wincing at the sounds of a fist slamming into brick. When he gets there Michael has his arms braced against the brick and his face turned away.

“What’s going on?” Alex questions.

“What the hell do you care?” Michael questions.

“There’s no way you’ve been on this kind of bender for this long,” he says, “you’d be dead.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“That’s not funny,” Alex snaps, “I have to be here,” he says, “I have orders. I have to be here,” Micheal presses his forehead against the brick, “it’s got nothing to do with you. You have—“

“No reason to go on a bender?” Michael fills in.

“Yes,” Alex says.

Michael makes a sound that sends chills down Alex’s spine. It’s a wounded sound, something that makes him think he’s never going to hear a laugh properly again. He had hoped pointing out he didn’t want to be there, that he wasn’t there for him, that it would somehow make things better. But the sound Michael makes makes him want to find a bottle and didn’t until he forgets it. The pain in his head spikes. Before he can help himself a hiss escapes his lips.

Michael’s reaction is instant. He steps out of the darkness and to Alex’s shock, his eyes go from his face to the one thing Alex has tried to keep hidden. Embarrassment sinks into his stomach as a thousand scenarios fly thought his head for how a Michael could have found out. Why he didn’t say anything. Who else could possibly know. Everyone, he reasons with a dry mouth. Everyone must know because it’s not enough that he gets his leg blown off and sent to torture his father with the reminder of how bad a soldier he is. No, he also has to show everyone that he can’t do the simplest thing like walk properly anymore. Michael’s eyes lock on his and Alex feels laid bare, like Michael knows exactly what he’s thinking.

“Alex—“

“I have orders,” he repeats, “this is the only chance I have of serving my country,” Michael cringes, “I have to be here.”

“Yeah I know,” he says in that small voice again.

“No, you don’t,” Alex says, “I have to be here. I have orders.”

“I said I got it!” Michael says loudly, something desperate and defensive in his voice.

Alex doesn’t feel a breeze but there must be one that makes the lid of the trash can slam. It echoes in his rattled brain, sending the coming headache into overdrive. He wants to push past the pain and keep fighting but even he can tell there’s no victory to be had here. Michael seems to know it too. He scrubs his face wipes his hands before hiding them away.

“Just stay away from me,” Michael says, “it’s a small town but you can manage that.”

“The ‘small town’ isn’t the problem,” Alex says.

“Fine,” Michael shoots back, whatever he was about to say is lost to the tight press of his lips. Alex wants to pry his mouth open and snatch them out. Or do something even stupider but all he can do is nod, “see you around,” he says, “or hopefully not.”

Alex watches him walk away and realizes the sight is very, very painful.

**

“How did you know about my leg?”

Michael rolls his eyes as he drops his french fry. He looks annoyed and Alex knows he’s been trying to avoid him. Alex has been trying to avoid Michael in equal measure. It’s not hard on busy days. But proximity to Michael is fucking with his head. He’s turning every stupid moment over so many times it’s giving him literal headaches. He’s trained to push past the pain of things like that. But it’s an annoyance he wants to deal with.

“I googled it,” he says.

“No, you knew exactly where my leg was,” Alex says. Michael presses his lips together and looks away. The pain in his head throbs, “how did you know?”

“I could see the place,” he says, “through your pants. Danger of wearing tight jeans.”

Heat floods Alex’s face even though they both know that’s bullshit. He’s not expecting to see Michael’s face go pink as well, even though the real give away is the usual tell Michael has.

“I can’t tell if it’s worse that you’re lying to yourself or to my face,” Alex says.

“Think about it and get back to me,” Michael replies with a lop sided grin that makes Alex’s stomach do a flip flop he most certainly doesn’t need right now, “can I finish my fries, I gotta get back to work.”

“You have a job?”

“Yeah I have a job,” Michael snaps, though this is different than his usual retorts, “is that hard to believe?”

“A legal job?” Alex repeats.

“Oh my god—yes, Alex, I have a legal job,” Michael says, “Can I get this to go?” He asks loudly and then swivels to face him, “let’s keep avoiding each other.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex blurts out, still trying to process that Michael who has all the appearance and drinking habits of a small town criminal has a job, “I didn’t—“

“Yeah you did,” Michael cuts in, “I’m a mechanic,” he says and that small voice creeps in, the one Alex hates even as he is impressed at Michaels ability to let a stranger in, even a little bit, “I got my ASE.”

“I didn’t know,” Alex says.

Michael shrugs.

Alex turns from the sun as the pain hits harder. Michael swears under his breath and shifts forward but Alex holds up a hand to stop him. He shifts back though out of the corner of his eye Alex can see he’s ready to spring forward.

“I got it recently, that’s why it didn’t come up,” he says, his voice low and urgent, “that’s all.”

“Come up?”

“Of course you already looked me up, I just passed the exam. I don’t even have the certification yet. But we both know i passed, yeah? But it just didn’t come up, that’s all. If you look again it’ll be there now.”

Alex focuses on his voice and his own breathing as the sharp pain recedes. It’s manageable, it’s a linger ache which seems to be the best he gets these days. He looks over to Michael to say something but Michael is somehow already moving fast towards the door. He doesn’t look back as he goes, just gets the hell out of there as fast as he can. Like seeing Alex in pain is still something he doesn’t know how to deal with.

It’s confusing as hell but the bright light makes him turn away and when he looks back the truck is speeding off and Michael’s already gone.

When he goes back and looks it up, Michael’s name is in the database.

But the test is dated six months ago.

***

The headaches aren’t enough to distract him from the fact that he is being lied to.

And not in the usual way.

Alex has been fed lies his entire life. About being wanted and loved, about fitting in, about how if he accepted himself everyone else would too. It’s been a long time since he believed any of them. But the level that it’s been taken to is almost laughable. Almost. It’s weeks before he’s in the same room as Michael again. The funny thing is that some instinctive part of him still tries to trust Michael. Still clings to the brave, brave boy who would throw everything away to protect him.

“Been to a lot of drive ins lately?” Michael asks when they somehow wind up alone.

“Not unless you count my laptop and a humvee,” Alex says.

Michael snorts which is immediately calming and troubling. Michael’s always gotten his sense of humor but he’s always hated the military that hangs over Alex. The military and authority in general. The fastest way to get Michael to do something is to tell him to do the opposite, everyone knows that. Especially Michael himself. But Michael chuckles and Alex feels himself relaxing despite his best efforts to remain angry and on task.

“What about you?” He asks.

“Not really one for the drive in,” Michael says, drumming his thumbs on the bottle.

“Why’s that?” Alex asks.

“Come on, Alex,” Michael drawls.

The heat on his cheeks is back. He can just picture Michael and a long line of girls. Which feels—he doesn’t want to name the feeling that it inspires. He doesn’t have a right to that anymore. Michael can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants in the back of the truck. Instead Alex glances around until Michael gives him a questioning look.

“I’m just trying to decide if it’s safe to sit here,” he says.

Michael laughs in surprise but it’s a real laugh before he clutches his fist to his chest with fake dramatics.

“You know I take good care of my truck.”

Alex shakes his head but doesn’t argue for once because Michael has always taken good care of his truck. It’s why he’s the only person Alex knows who still drives his car from high school and it isn’t a complete death trap. He can also remember a time when he was the only one Michael made out with in his prized truck. Not half of Roswell. The bittersweet feeling lingers but for once the headache isn’t the thing that he’s most focused on. It’s almost nice to be sitting there with him. Even if the others would be back any second.

“So is Roswell as good as you remember?” Michael asks.

“Good? Are we talking about the same Roswell?” Alex asks, “remember when you couldn’t wait to get out of here?”

“Yeah but you did,” Michael points out, but there isn’t a challenge in his words for once, “so how’s it being back?”

Alex shrugs.

He wants to say being back sucks. That he regrets every second he’s spent away dreaming of this place because the reality is worse. He wants to grab Michael’s stupid lapels and demand to know why things are the way they are. Why everyone’s lying to him, why Michael lying to him is so much worse. He wants answers that not even Michael can give him. Like why his leg is gone or his head is hurting or what it’s like to get a full night of sleep. But Michael isn’t the brave boy who protected him and he’s not the type to ask the universe for things it won’t give him.

“I’ve been on worse deployments,” he says.

Michael shuts down.

Alex has computers that would be jealous of the speed which Michael goes silent and closed off. Like magic the rest of them are back and there’s no chance for anything except to sit there in the awkwardness. Alex gets through maybe half the movie before he gives up and slips away as best he can, before anyone can ask if he needs help.

“Nice ride,” Michael says from behind him. Alex glares at his reflection.

“You shouldn’t sneak up behind a solider,” he says.

“Sorry,” Michael says.

Alex glances down and realizes his hand isn’t on his firearm. He doesn’t feel the way that he usually does when people sneak up behind him. It’s another thing that doesn’t make sense in all of this. He turns around but doesn’t move out of the way. He should feel trapped, pinned, afraid. But he doesn’t. The more he thinks on it the more the pain in his head digs in. He’s hand enough of his body betraying him though. He can deal with the pain.

“Why did you follow me?” He asks.

“Came to see if you were okay,” Michael says.

“Why?” Alex asks.

Surprise gives Michael away. Or the lack of it anyway. He’s surprised at how Alex asks so directly but he doesn’t seem like the kind of surprised where there isn’t an answer. Or an answer he doesn’t want to say. He looks like he wants to crawl out of his skin or scream at the top of his lungs. When he reaches for more bullshit, Alex finds his patience snapping at the same time something seems to snap in his head. But he ignores the hot pain, he shoves past it. He’s survived worse than this.

“We used to be—“

“Don’t lie to me,” Alex cuts in, “this isn’t about what we used to be.”

“It always is,” Michael says.

“You’re doing it again,” Alex snaps. Michael blinks and looks confused in a much more honest way, “You keep getting this voice—“ he fights the urge to rub his temples, “this isn’t about what happened ten years ago.”

“You don’t know that,” Michael scoffs and if the wariness in his eyes didn’t give him away, the tongue over his bottom lip and heat in his face do.

“Yes I do,” Alex says, “you’re a miserable liar.”

The comment makes Michael’s jaw drop.

It also makes an explosion go off in his head.

Alex has a high tolerance for pain, it’s a virtue of his upbringing. This isn’t pain. He doesn’t have a word for what this is. It’s like his entire spine is being crushed into itself. His skull is going to break open, it has to. There’s no room for anything else in there. The words keep tumbling over in his head. Miserable Liar. Lying about something that’s just out of reach. He grips Michael’s forearms tighter, he strains to catch at whatever it is that keeps dancing just out of reach. The explosions keep happening, the pain is blinding and so is the heat. It hurts worse than anything but it isn’t the first time.

It isn’t the first time.

He’s been in three explosions, he doesn’t know how he knows that.

He remembers the one that took his leg.

He can’t say how he remembers the one that broke his heart.

And the third—

He reaches for the thought desperately and the answer comes to him a moment before he passes out.

The third took his mind.

****

“Here,” Michael puts the folded up cloth over his eyes, “shhh don’t try to talk,” he says as Alex parts his lips. Michael picks up his finger and puts it on his wrist, “tap once for yes, twice for no,” he says, “you want water?” Alex taps once.

It’s mildly humiliating to have to be helped to drink but the pain tempers the humiliation. Michael helps him lay down again, he sets the water glass to the side. The sound rattles Alex’s brain and Michael grips his hand back, rubbing his fingers over his knuckles until the waves subside.

“What happened to me?” He asks.

Michael seems to know not to tell him not to talk. Alex is touched and offended by the concern in equal measures. Michael doesn’t let go of his hand. Alex doesn’t have it in him to draw circles with his thumb or anything like that but he squeezes Michaels hand. Michael sighs several times like he’s trying to organize his thoughts. Alex opens his mouth to try and help with some kind of basic question but Michael cuts him off.

“You’ve been here for a year,” he says.

“What?!”

Alex shoves himself up before he remembers what a bad idea that is. The cloth goes flying as Michael lunges forward to steady him with one hand behind his neck and the other at his shoulder. There’s also a bin suddenly in his lap that he knows wasn’t there before but it saves him from puking on both of them. A bin magically appearing isn’t more stunning than finding out he’s missing a fucking year of his life. Or that he’s not in Michael’s trailer but some underground space with a chandelier that reeks of Michaels style and is an impossibly far cry from the trailer.

“Why can’t I remember?” He demands. The pain in his head flares and the dots finally connect, “it’s the headaches,” he says in case Michael hasn’t picked up on that. He lifts his head to see Michael’s shoulders sag, “what happened to me?”

“It’s a drug,” Michael says, “they inject it into your spine,” he taps the back of his neck, close to the base of his skull, “it takes away your memories and if you try to get them back,” he motions towards his sorry state.

“Who?” Alex demands. Michael cringes, “my father?”

“Your dad,” he licks his bottom lip, “this guy you were trying to date. Flint—“ he hesitates, “they did Flint first but he helped.”

Alex stares up at him, trying to reconcile the fact that he’s been experimented on, lost a year of his life and apparently was dating someone who helped do this to him. He’s almost grateful when his stomach turns over, though there’s nothing left in there to come out. If Michael hears the dry sob buried in the heaving he lets Alex have at least one shred of dignity and pretends he doesn’t. Alex fights back for control before putting the bucket aside.

“What am I missing?” He says.

“Alex—“ Michael starts, fear in his eyes. It’s fear now, Alex can place it. But it’s not fear of him. Michael’s scared for him. Which would be great if it wasn’t for the fact that he can already feel the throbbing coming back, “I can’t,” Michael says. 
“Yes you can,” Alex replies. Michael hesitates, “I need to know what’s going on,” Alex tells him, “Michael, please, I need to know what they took from me—from us.”

Michael cringes and looks away and Alex realizes he’s stumbled onto something. It makes sense that something would happen if he’s been there a year. He was trying to find a way to get Michael to give him the information he needed to know. Embarrassment curls through him, he deserves worse than hearing he was in two relationships he can’t remember.

“It’s gonna hurt,” Michel says finally.

“Michael,” Alex repeats his name.

“I’m gonna be the one who hurts you. Again,” Alex opens his mouth but Michael shakes his head and seems to come to some kind of decision. He goes for his belt and folds the leather over itself, “it’s been a year,” he says grimly, “you might need this.”

Alex takes the belt and goes to put the leather between his teeth.

“I might hurt you,” he says, “physically.”

Michael shakes his head.

“Trust me, that’s not going to be a problem.”

***

“I never thought I’d miss the days when you just ran away.”

Alex cracks open an eye to see Michael standing there. He’s wearing a black cowboy hat Alex does and doesn’t remember seeing him in. It’s a nice contrast if Max used to be a cop, Alex could remember nothing and he’d still remember the cops around here wear white stetsons. The light only hurts his eyes because he’s wasted and Michael’s positioned himself in the worst way. Which Alex has a feeling isn’t an accident.

“Are you enjoying being on the other side of this?” He asks. Michael shakes his head, “you could be the one who runs away this time,” he offers.

“I’m shit at it,” Michael says.

“Yeah,” Alex agrees.

“You’re shit at it too,” Michael adds, stepping out of the stupid light to join him against the wall.

“I guess we’re both just good at burning our lives down,” Alex muses.

“Guess we are,” Michael agrees, “you gonna stand up?”

Alex considers it but between the liquor and the brawl he was just in, he thinks the ground might be better. Michael nods and suddenly Alex isn’t sitting outside the Pony alone. Michael’s explained everything to him but if Alex had any doubt about how Michael feels it’s pretty much gone when he willingly drops onto the ground next to him so Alex doesn’t have to sit in the ruins alone.

“I was a better fighter when I had two legs,” he says.

“You beat him pretty soundly,” Michael points out, “he just got a few lucky shots in.”

It’s true, he’s sitting on the ground but his brother and his ex are probably gonna be eating liquid meals for a bit. Alex can’t say he regrets it.

“I gave them a chance to explain themselves,” he tells Michael, “I didn’t just attack them.”
 “You don’t have to explain,” Michael says quickly.

“I mean I’m not going to—“ he winces at the thought of Michael holding him down with his fucking mind and wonders why it’s important he reassures him, “if you thought I was.”

“Thanks,” Michael says and there’s no humor in his eyes even though Alex is pretty sure he’s just made a hysterical joke, “I’d understand if you did,” Michael adds, “after—“

“That’s not your fault,” he cuts in.

“Come on,” Michael counters, “we both know that’s not true.”

“It wasn’t,” Alex emphasizes, “I don’t blame you for it.”

Michael hangs his head. Alex doesn’t. There’s a lot of messed up shit in the story Michael told him that Alex could and does blame him for. But him losing his memories, the bomb, the things that led to this? Alex can keep the things he does blame him for separate from that.

“You’re not a saint Michael,” he says, “but you’re not a monster,” he looks over at him, “and this,” he motions to his head, “it’s not your fault.”

He knows Michael doesn’t believe him, he also knows it’s impossible to convince him. He can only hope that Michael doesn’t think he has to self-flagellate. Michael sighs and cracks his knuckles. He isn’t hiding his hands anymore. Alex wishes it was that easy to feel like he doesn’t have to hide his leg. Or lack of. It’s strange to have Michael have so much and Alex have nothing. On one hand he’s happy for him. On the other—Alex can put that feeling aside in the place where he puts all his feelings about Michael that he doesn’t know how to deal with.

“Are you done burning down your life?” Michael asks. Alex shrugs, “Alex?”
 “That wasn’t my life,” he says simply, “I’m done if they are,” he offers.

Michael sighs loudly.

They both know the answer to that.

“You know this whole time I thought all of this was my fault,” Michael says.

“Are you disappointed?” Alex asks and the sarcasm brings a genuine smile to Michael’s face. His nose wrinkles.

“You know I kinda am,” he says.

Alex can’t remember the last time he laughed until his ribs hurt. It isn’t even that funny. Maybe it’s just that laying in the back of an alleyway with Michael laughing in the wreckage of both their lives, there’s something real. Even if that something is just a fucked up connection he can’t fully explain. It’s funny and it’s tragic and the wetness on their cheeks could be from either of those things. Or just from the exhaustion and pain that’s ruled their lives for God knows how long. A year? Ten? Always?

Michael looks over at him and it’s the easiest thing to push himself closer.

It’s Michael who pulls back.

“We can’t,” he says. Alex stares at him but lets him keep going, “I can tell you the fucked up shit I did, but you don’t remember,” he says, “that’s not fair to you,” Michael adds, squeezing his eyes shut, “shit none of this is fair to you.”

“I might never remember,” Alex points out.

“Yeah,” Michael says.

“Did you stop caring?” He asks. Michael shakes his head, “could you?”

Michael doesn’t hesitate when he shakes his head. Alex knows he feels more for Michael than he has for anyone. But those feelings haven’t stopped either of them from doing fucked up things to each other. He can’t blame Michael for not wanting to do anything more with them. It’d be a lot easier if he thought that was what was happening.

“I haven’t stopped caring for you,” he says.

“You did,” Michael tells him, “not that I blame you. With all the fucked up shit I did.”

Alex nods.

“You did a lot of messed up things,” he says, “but I don’t think I stopped caring for you,” he looks at Michael, “deep down I don’t think you believe that either. I think you want to, but I don’t think you do.”

Michael looks away. Alex hates being the manifestation of Michael’s need to punish himself more than he hates any role he’s been shoehorned into. Including being Jesse Manes’ son. He doesn’t have the words for that. He’s not sure the words for it have been invented. For someone you would rather sit on the ground with than be warm and dry. Or anywhere else. Alex has wanted to fit in places before but he’s never found that sense of acceptance he remembers with Michael.

“Do you think we can get past it?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” Michael says, “do you want me to go?”

“No.”

**

“You sure this is okay?”

Alex looks up at the sight of Michael standing in his doorway. He nods without any hesitation. Michael is very much of the ‘alternative living’ dwelling but living above a bunker with alien stuff has draw backs. Like some long lost alien relative coming and blowing it up. Alex isn’t sure how he beat Isobel to the offering of Michael coming back with him, but he was pulling into his driveway with Michael’s truck following. Alex is at least grateful the truck survived with only minor dings.

“I’m sorry about your bunker,” he says. Michael nods, “is there anything I can do?”

“Can we look for the piece of my ship?”

Alex nods, grateful for anything to do. He can’t remember and Michael only has a few clues like the bag he shoved it in. So they turn the house upside down, pausing only for snacks and beers. It beats dreaming about Michael losing another home and him being powerless to stop it. Of course the cabin with all its secrets doesn’t make this easy. Why would anything be easy when it comes to them.

“This is like being drunk and hiding something from yourself,” Michael says, half under the bed, “you know?”
 “No,” Alex says honestly, “the stuff I hid I wanted to keep hidden. From my dad, or enemy insurgents.”

“There’s a difference?” Michael asks. Alex snorts and lays back, looking up at the wood beams, “you’re too good at this.”

“Sorry,” he says, “I do it professionally, if that’s any consolation.” 
“Not really.”

Alex tilts his head. He spent years picking out patterns and discrepancies. Code and buildings aren’t terribly different when it comes to the patterns. And he’s always been good when it comes to discrepancies. He rolls over to the painting against the wall.

“Can you get the painting off?”

Michael comes out from under the bed and blows his curls out of his eyes in a gesture that shouldn’t be so adorable. Or so hot. He looks at the painting and frowns. Then it swings out, hinged to the wall. The keypad there is like a cruel joke. He likes to think he knows himself but the missing year taunts him.  He looks at the pad and then at Michael. Michael stares at the pad for a moment and then punches in a code.

“Glad I told you,” Alex says, reaching in and pulling out the bag.

“You didn’t,” Michael says. Alex looks over at him, surprised.

“What was the code?”

“Date of our high school reunion,” Michael says.

Alex isn’t sentimental about a lot of things. Not in any version of himself. Tangible things can get broken too easily to be important. He passes Michael the bag and looks inside the safe. Everything in it is practical. Which he should have expected but finds himself disappointed all the same. He wishes his memories were in there. But the ship piece will have to do. He looks as Michael pulls out the piece of glass, the colors going blue around his handprints.

“It’s beautiful,” Alex says.

Michael nods, turning the piece over in his hands. The light trails across where he touches, changing the colors reflected across his skin. He’s beautiful. Alex is grateful that he was able to hide it, that he was able to give it back. No matter what happened in between that and him losing his memories. It’s a small thing but Alex has long since learned to be grateful for small victories. Especially when the big ones are so far between.

“I’m glad we found it,” he says, breaking through whatever spell has fallen over Michael and the last remaining piece of his home. It’s jarring and he wants to snatch the words back, even as something in the marrow of his bones tells him to stop him. That the longer he stares the more likely it is he’ll go. “What’s the date?”

“The date?” Alex nods and Michael seems to jerk back to life, “oh yeah,” he rattles it off and Alex tucks the numbers away, memorizing them easily.

“I have to figure out a way to remember these,” he says, “in case my dad tries something like this again.”

“You can just ask me,” Michael offers.

Alex’s mouth goes dry. He wants to say that he believes their friendship would be strong enough that if it happened that would be true. But the things they don’t say or can’t say have started piling up again already. There’s an ache that hangs over their relationship, their friendship, and Alex doesn’t know how to make it go away.

“Yeah but just in case,” he says. 
“In case of what?” Michael presses. Alex blows out a breath.

“I don’t know, in case you decide to take a trip somewhere,” he says, “or you meet someone and move away. Or you’re busy,” he shrugs, “you know, just in case.”

He closes the safe and gives Michael a good extra few seconds to collect himself. He hears Michael put the glass piece back in the bag and he still takes his time before turning to face him.

He isn’t expecting Michael to be so close.

“I meet someone new?” Michael repeats.

“It’s going to happen eventually,” Alex points out then shakes his head, “no it already did. We both did.”

“And look where that got us.”

It’s a challenge and Alex desperately wants to fight back. But Michael has been clear—as clear as Michael ever is about his feelings when he isn’t broadcasting them. He has a year of fucked up memories of them that Alex has made his peace with he’ll never get back. It’s like his leg. They’re gone. There’s a time to mourn and then it’s time to move on. He can’t blame Michael for not wanting to be with someone who can’t remember moments like the ones he has. He can only blame him for not wanting to move past it with him.

“You said in the alley—“
 “I know what I said,” Michael snaps, “but I didn’t know.”

“Know what? What changed?”

“I didn’t know you had the reunion as the code to your safe.”

Alex rolls his eyes.

“You’re the only one whose surprised at that,” he shoots back, “I told you—“

He gets why Michael put the glass piece down when his back hits the wall and Michael’s lips find his. The world slips away as he melts into the feeling. If he remembers nothing ever again he’ll remember the taste of Michael’s mouth. How he presses up the extra quarter inch like it makes a fucking difference. His hands are on Alex’s cheeks and then at his waist like he can’t figure out where to touch first. The frantic energy crackles between them and Alex has no idea how he didn’t know Michael was an alien. Or maybe Michael being special just eclipsed all of it.

Any awkwardness Alex envisioned for his first time without both his legs is gone. Michael doesn’t cringe at his prosthetic and when the bed moves in a way that’s got nothing to do with what they’re doing, Michael doesn’t have a chance to be embarrassed. They lay on his bed after gasping unsteady breaths.

“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t make up the couch,” Michael says.

Alex might feel love drunk but that doesn’t stop him from smacking Michael with the pillow.

* “I should have known when you said there was a metal detector,” Alex realizes aloud.

Michael cringes and ducks his head, focusing back on the car he’s working on. Because he is actually a very good mechanic and all it takes is a simple sign saying his customers can find him in Alex’s driveway for the operation to move there temporarily. From his spot on the porch Alex can work without the sun in his eyes while Michael buries himself in cars.

“I was just trying to keep you from getting those headaches,” he says.

“The UFO Emporium still runs on floppy disks,” Alex says, still flabbergasted he fell for it, “I can’t believe I fell for that.”

“To be fair,” Michael begins, stepping out from under the hood, “I was banking on you still thinking your leg was new and being too embarrassed to risk it.”

“No I know,” Alex says, “but I worked there, I should have known there was no way they would install a metal detector.”

“They might one day,” Michael offers.

“If they do we should move,” Alex says turning back to his screen, “it’ll be a sign of the apocalypse.”

“Or an alien invasion.”

Alex rolls his eyes and looks over at Michael who flashes a grin that makes his cheeks burn. The alien thing is, in some ways, easier to get used to than openly dating. Which seems backwards in his head but it’s not in this situation.

“Speaking of signs of the apocalypse, invasions and unbelievable things,” Michael says, “you know we’ve been dating a month.”

“I know,” Alex says, “that reminds me, I changed the safe combination to today,” he glances up at Michael, “in case I forget.”

Despite them dating for a month and all the other stuff, the gesture does exactly what Alex was hoping it would. Michael goes pink around the ears and blows his curls off his forehead before turning back to the car.

“I’ll remember,” he says.

“I know.”