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manet-boleyn · 4 years

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The Spanish Princess Top 5 Characters

Back at these Top characters list again. This is my second, the first one I did was The Tudors. That had Top 10 characters, however since there is a smaller cast of characters since TSP is much more shorter, I will only be doing 5 characters. This show was actually enjoyable to me much more than The Tudors since it was shorter and I knew the cast of people much more thn idk... Gardner (I don’t really interested in Parr’s time as queen, planning to change that) and that musician boy from the first season. I will go on more of this in a different post how The Spanish Princess does better with characters than The Tudors in a different post. Anyway, these are my 5 favorite characters in TSP, let’s take a look.

HONORABLE MENTIONS-

Mary “Rose” Tudor

Cardinal Wolsey

Charles Brandon

Bessie Blount (before TSP made her nasty since they realized she was too nice to go against Catherine)

Oviedo

Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham

5. Arthur Tudor, Prince of Wales

Before I even watched TSP, I was already interested in this portrayal of Arthur. A few months, in fact. I always commented on his silly hair how it made him “Willy Wonka”, but from all those jokes and comments, he definitely become very close to the start of this account by just making fun of the wig. So when I was watching The Spanish Princess episode 1, I absolutely fell in love with this dork. The actor is also cute and I feel like he is a good Arthur, Angus Imrie makes Arthur very timid and unsure of Catherine, which I mean I would too since Catherine is an awful character. But each time Arthur appeared on screen, I was so happy since his character was just amazing and he gives off so much bookworm vibes. I definitely relate with this character since I’m really awkward too. I love how he interacts with Margaret Pole’s children and with Margaret herself, it is like they have a little family. I love how he tries to be tough against his brother, but automatically failing since he is very shy while Henry is very full of himself. I hate to say it but the sex scene with Catherine also shown his character as well, a fucking sex scene. Heck, ever scene he is in shows his character well. From the start you can tell he wouldn’t be that good of a king by just how awkward he is, while his brother is straight forward. You can say Arthur is an oddball and that makes me love him even more. This was one of the best acting in the show, props to Angus Imrie.

4. Lina de Cardonnes

Obviously, most of Lina’s story is made up since the real Lina was a servant and not Catherine’s closest lady-in-waiting. However I am guessing Lina is supposed to replace Maria de Salinas, the real Katherine of Aragon’s closest best friend. However, I still love the character of Lina. She still supports Catherine throughout the show, however will tell her if the thing she is doing is wrong, say like lying about how Catherine bedded Arthur and other things. However, she will still help Catherine no matter what. This kind of disappointed me, that Lina is so kind to Catherine in some points even though Catherine is a huge dick to her sometimes. It was so great to see her finally leave England in the last episode, it’s like a big “F U to Catherine for me”. But not fully though, Lina still comforts Catherine the last few moments she has with her. I started to understand that was her character though. Rosa did really risky stuff (of that time period) that Lina told her not to do, and she had to suffer the consequences, Lina still decided to help her. Lina is the character that will comfort anyone who is need of it. that is what i like about her character, she is an extremely sweet character and I am so happy that she got out of England before it started to go down to shit. She had suffered to much and finally got her happiness by leaving with her family, and I am so glad she got a happy ending. Stephanie Levi-John played her very well.

3. Margaret Tudor, Queen Regent of Scotland

First of all, I want to make it clear that out of Henry VII’s four children, I know about Margaret the least. I knew she was married to the King James of Scots and had a son who would become the next King of Scotland and had a daughter named Margaret Douglas. So obviously, I really do not know who she is. However, the Spanish Princess made me really want to research about her. I have not done that yet, but I will since it made me feel interested in her. I thought she was going to be one of the most boring of the characters since I watched a review of The Spanish Princess Season 1 and it said she didn’t do much. Which is correct, she wasn’t present that much in the first Season. However, from all the characters that i wasn’t familiar with that much (Elizabeth of York, The King’s mother, etc.) she was quite, interesting, Then Season 2 happened. In Season 2 she becomes much more important to the story and her acting is so great. She looses a husband that she loves, whom at first she was scared to not even like. She looses her sons to her terrible husband and becomes somewhat mad that she has to stay with him. Before i watched the last two episodes of TSP, I saw a post on Tumblr where it stated she welcomed Anne Boleyn in full arms and watching TSP and how it portrays her struggle with trying to get an annulment, I can understand why she did it and I think Georgie Henley played her very good. She made Margaret very complex and at the end where she absolutely hates her brother and his wife, it makes so much sense. Plus, she loved Mary Tudor and said “ a girl is still a child and she is so beautiful” while Catherine was just like, “it’s a girl, ew”. She definitely is one of the really great characters in the show and I’m interested if they will show her character in Becoming Elizabeth.

2. Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire

First of all, I just like his character? I don’t know? I really liked it when he said that daughters was also a blessing just like a son? I think i just like him since i really do not like Thomas Boleyn portrayals. Many portayals make him look like a pimp that pimps out his daughters. Thomas also does this too somewhat, but I genually see that he loves his daughters, what many portrayals of Thomas Boleyn lack of. We don’t see him get angry at his daughters at all, when he tells Anne to get the king’s interest, I feel like it just isn’t forced. We don’t see Anne ever get angry at his father at all. You can say she has barely any character in this like other portrayals, but just seeing Thomas not be angry to his daughters just is different for me, I don’t know why. Plus, he is one of the people I’m very sure that is very stand offish of Margaret Beaufort after she literally orders a man to die even though the King is dead. he is in the background a lot but he makes his presence, I really hope he is in Becoming Elizabeth, this character needed more of a presence since he was an utter joy to watch. He’s also high on the list since I am a simp. I’m sorry. It’s just like Thomas More.

1. Rosa de Vargas

Yes, very unexpected, right? Rosa is so underrated and I wish more people talked about her. She was one of the main characters for Season 1 and shown up two times in Season 2. I used to be kind of annoyed with her. She takes a lot of risks by becoming Edward Stafford’s mistress and I somewhat agreed with Rosa that she was being dumb. But when you see her in Season 2, she is different. She is more mature and looks more mature and that is when I realized that she was only a teenager in Season 2. Or young adult, but she is still young still. Then everything made sense, of course she took those risks since when someone is a teenager, they take risks, not matter the cause. I started to like Rosa when she is pregnant , the utter worry she got made me really sympathize for her. She decides to keep the baby and I grew more and more in fear as she tries to get Stafford a home for her for the child and Stafford constantly ignores her. But then Rosa sadly has a miscarriage and she is destroyed by it. You can really feel how upset she is, she really wanted to have a life with her child. She is so compassionate and it is s shame that she is only a young adult having all of this horrible things happen to her. Yet, she still has the happy girl vibe, she cares for her friends and I was quite upset that she had to leave, I grew close to her character and I didn’t want more time of Catherine. But then we see her in Season 2. She’s older now, she has a family of three daughters. She went through so many hardships, she finally gets her happy ending. She also has a loving husband, you can tell how happy she is as a mother and wife while Catherine really isn’t. Rosa is the character that actually fully convinces Catherine that she could care for her daughter, even though she is not a boy that will become king. And Catherine takes that information. Rosa, the girl who lost her child when she was a teenager, teaches the one of the most bitter characters in the show to actually become a mother and love her daughter. In my opinion, Rosa has most impressive character arc of the show. We barely see her in Season 2, but she has changed so much, in a positive way too. She used to be so timid and sad, but now she if a confident mother that shines. She even accepts the apology form Stafford and the way she does it the watcher can see so much growth. And in the end, she helps Lina leave England to go to the Ottoman Empire. Rosa at the start got help from Lina, but now she is the one that helps. She finally sets Lina free from the painful state of England. To me, Lina is the one that got the true happy ending in The Spanish Princess. She went from an awful beginning into a character that i respect so much and I wish people see her growth. Rosa is a minor character, yes, but she is the one to make Catherine become a parent, she is the one to make Mary actually have a parent that cares for her well being, and she is the one that helps Lina escape. She is so beneficial to the plot and easily should be loved by the fan base just like Margaret, Mary “Rose” Tudor, and Anne Boleyn. I really hope Nadia Parkes has a successful career soon.

Anyway, that’s my Top 5 characters in The Spanish Princess, what is yours?

#tw miscarriage #the spanish princess #Katherine of Aragon #thomas boleyn #rosa de vargas #margaret tudor #lina de cardonnes #arthur prince of wales

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echo-bleu · 4 years

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Mud Stains

This isn’t a new fic, I posted it on AO3 during Whumptober, but I recently got a comment on it and went to reread it, and I decided I should post it here too. Heed the warnings, it’s dark.

Stains (1/5)

[torture, graphic violence, kidnapping, prison, violent deaths/killing, loss of control, serious injuries, blood]

Michael frowns at his ringing phone when he sees Valenti's name as the caller ID. He only has Valenti's number saved in his phone because Isobel made him, since Valenti is the only doctor they have in case of an emergency, but they've never even texted each other.

“What?” he asks brusquely as he picks up the call.

“Is Alex with you?” Valenti asks, sounding worried. “I can't reach him.”

“No, we haven't spoken since last night,” Michael answers. They're taking their relationship slow, since the mess with Maria. They're trying to date and actually talk, in the middle of the government conspiracy craziness, and one of their rules is no using sex to avoid talking. That means that they avoid staying overnight at each other's place. “Why ? What's wrong ?”

“I don't know, something's not adding up,” Valenti says. “He was supposed to be at the bunker an hour ago, and his phone goes straight to voicemail. And we have a huge problem.”

“What is it?”

“Jesse Manes escaped the hospital sometime yesterday, probably early morning. It was my day off, the first time I haven't checked on him in five weeks, and he somehow woke up enough to walk out and disappear.”

“Shit!” Michael exclaims. “Does Alex know?”

“Not yet. That's why I'm worried. I'm on my way to his place, but you're closer. Meet me there?”

Michael stands up and starts putting on his boots one-handed, the other holding his phone to his ear. “Yeah, leaving now,” he says.

“Thanks,” Valenti says before hanging up.

Michael makes it to Alex's cabin in record time. He tried to call Alex's phone twice on the way, but there's no answer. By the time he pulls up in the driveway, he's so worried his knuckles are white from gripping the wheel.

Things have been quiet for a while, which just made Michael wait for the other shoe to drop. Nothing in his life has ever been easy, so why would it start now?

They're still grieving for Max, though they've all given up hope of reviving him. He was too far gone by the time Liz managed to get him to his pod, and nothing they've tried has worked. They haven't held a funeral yet, but even Isobel has accepted that it's over.

The grief has been brutal. Where Liz obsessed over bringing Max back, working days and nights in her lab, and Isobel isolated herself from everyone and slept fifteen hours a day, Michael took a downward slope into self-destruction, chucking down tequila and acetone by the bottle, destroying what was left of his relationship with Alex to casually sleep with Maria and breaking both of their hearts over and over. He's come out of it now, mostly, even though Maria won't talk to him and Alex is still tentative and guarded. But things are looking up−and that's exactly why it couldn't go on.

That's why Michael knows long before he sees the signs of a fight in Alex's cabin that Jesse Manes made it here before he did.

There are mud tracks all over the floor in front of the cabin, as if someone drove all the way up here and then sped off. It's probably what happened, Michael thinks when he sees the door hanging off its hinges, wide open. The whole room inside looks like a hurricane has been through it. The couch is overturned, and the coffee table broken to pieces.

“What the hell?” Valenti murmurs when he joins Michael to look at the wreckage.

“Alex put up a fight,” Michael says. “But his father definitely wasn't alone. They're gone.”

Alex lets himself slide down to the floor as the Airman pushes him into the cell. There's little else he can do. The shackles don't let him lie down fully, so he has to curl up on himself, the chains linking his wrists and ankles clicking as he moves.

The cell doesn't have a window, but at least a day has passed since four Airmen showed up at him door, ordering him to come with them. He almost obeyed, before he opened the door fully to see his father in the passenger seat of the waiting Jeep. He fought tooth and nail, but it just wasn't enough against four able-bodied trained men.

He has a badly broken arm and a concussion from hell to show for it. He doesn't know how long it took his father and his minions−because that's, clearly, what they are−to get him here, in what looks like another abandoned prison reworked for Project Shepard's uses. It certainly wasn't on any files that Alex has seen, and he doesn't even know in which state they are.

Which means that no one is coming for him. Michael or Kyle might worry that he's not answering his phone, but they won't have anywhere to look for him. If Alex didn't find out about this place, from his father's bunker or the Caulfield data, then they won't either.

So Alex bides his time. He's in no shape to try to escape, even if he wasn't in an airtight cell inside an airtight prison. His right arm has gone numb below his elbow, and even just shifting his shoulder makes him scream. His head is still bleeding, and he's so dizzy he can barely tell up from down. His stump is on fire, but he doesn't dare remove the prosthetic in case he gets a chance to run. Not that he'll be able to run in shackles. Alex doesn't know why they even cuffed the damn prosthetic rather than removing it, except perhaps so they don't have to carry him everywhere.

And then, there's the interrogation sessions. Three so far, and counting. Jesse Manes knows better than anyone that Alex is trained in counter-interrogation−he's the reason Alex passed that particular test with flying colors on his first try−so he stepped up his game from the beginning. He started with waterboarding, which just made Alex's head wound worse and ended with him to woozy to tell his father what he wants, so now it's just mind games. Threats. Detailed accounts of what he'll do to Michael once he puts his hands on him. More creative every time.

“What do the aliens know about Project Shepard?”

Alex's mouth is bloody from biting his tongue. He's almost out of his mind with pain. One of his captors uncuffed his arms only to tie them above his head, and the broken one is sending sharp spikes that have already made him throw up all over himself. Jesse just gave him a disgusted look and stepped further back.

“What's their plan?”

In the cell, the noise starts. Alex knows the technique: sleep deprivation. The speakers screams heavy metal at him, songs that he might even have enjoyed if he didn't feel like tearing his head off. He shivers uncontrollably, drenched from the water they threw at him to keep him awake.

He doesn't wonder whether his father will go all the way with the torture. Jesse Manes would rather see his son dead than alive and causing him problems, and he will kill anyone who stands in his way without hesitation. Even Alex.

He does wonder if death would be better than this.

No . Keep them occupied. Keep them away from the others. From Michael.

Alex will hold on as long as he can, to give the others a chance.

He hopes they won't waste that chance trying to save him.

It takes nearly five days of gripping fear to even get their first lead. Michael spends them stone-cold sober, because he can't afford to spend a single thought on anything that's not Alex, let alone get himself inebriated. He bites his nails to the blood before he starts pulling at his skin, at his lips, at his hair. None of that helps with the crushing anxiety that constricts his stomach.

Alex has been kidnapped by his father, and Michael knows exactly how much of a monster Jesse Manes is. He sees it every time he closes his eyes, the skeletal prisoners behind glass taking Alex's features, and Alex's hand under the hammer, Alex's face as his father tried to choke him.

If Michael doesn't make it to him in time, Alex will die at the hands of his father. Maybe he's already dead. Every day a little more hope flies away, and Michael is left with more angst.

The others are scrambling too, doing their best, but it's not enough. Kyle and Rosa spend their days down in Manes's bunker, going through everything Alex might have missed−but they already know Alex didn't miss anything. Michael, Liz and Maria ride out to every abandoned place they can find around the town to no avail. Isobel approaches as many Airmen as she can to scan their minds without them noticing.

Their first break comes from there: the names of four Airmen declared AWOL on the day Alex got abducted. It's a lead, but it's not enough. It doesn't give them a location.

What it gives Michael is more nightmares. Those men are specifically trained in interrogation methods. With Jesse Manes ruthlessness, God only knows what they might be doing to Alex.

They don't get anything actionable until day six, though, and it comes from a source they didn't expect at all. At dawn on the sixth day, Kyle receives a call at the hospital from Flint Manes.

“He's going to kill Alex,” Flint says. “I can't let him go through with it.”

He gives them the location of another abandoned prison, at the Arizona border. He tells them that he refused to get involved, months ago, when his father planned to take out Kyle and deal with Alex, so Jesse Manes didn't tell him what he was doing, but he's apparently so far gone in his blood lust that he called Flint to brag about torturing his brother.

No six-hour drive has ever felt so long to Michael.

Between Michael and Isobel's powers, getting into the prison isn't complicated. Isobel encourages the one man who comes out to meet them to think of them as military officials, and although it doesn't work for long, it gets them through the doors. Michael sends the man into a wall to knock him out the moment he gives signs of turning on them.

After that, he focuses on finding Alex. He tried hard not to think of what state Alex is going to be in. He was still alive last night when Jesse Manes talked to Flint. That's enough for Michael.

Except it's not. Not when he turns a corner and sees him.

They've spread out over the prison to cover every floor, so they can find Alex faster. Flint is certain that Jesse Manes is there with only the four Airmen, that the prison was truly abandoned years ago, so they don't expect to have to take on an army. Even Caulfield barely had any staff, despite the number of prisoners, Michael remembers. This prison only has one prisoner.

Michael is the one who finds them. He's taken the west wing of the first floor, with Flint covering the east, as they're the two with the most firepower. Michael runs through the corridors as fast as he can, not caring about being discreet, and he stops short at the entrance of what must have been a laundry room.

It's been repurposed as a torture chamber, apparently. Jesse Manes and his three remaining Airmen are standing with their back to him, but Michael barely pays attention to them, beside flicking their guns out of their hands.

In the middle of the room, Alex hangs from a chain that comes down from the ceiling, binding his wrists above his head. Michael's brain immediately starts cataloging injuries, but there are too many to count. His face and his tattered clothes are drenched in blood, and Michael can't even see where it comes from. Shackles encircle his ankles, the prosthetic one obviously angled wrong, the wrist cuffs hanging open. Alex's eyes are closed, and he looks already dead.

“Alex!” he shouts.

Alex barely reacts, just opening his eyes a little. Michael runs to him, spreading his arms to throw the four Airmen out of his way. “Alex!”

“Michael,” Alex murmurs through bloody teeth, when Michael reaches him. It's all he can say, though, before his eyes roll back into his head. Michael only has time to untie the chain, catching Alex with his power and his arms so he doesn't fall to brutally, before Alex starts seizing.

“Alex!” Michael cries out, even more desperately. He's finally found him, but it may well be too late. Alex keeps shaking in his arms, his whole body moving uncontrollably.

It lasts maybe a minute, a minute out of time. Nothing else in the room moves, whether the men are afraid of Michael or he knocked them unconscious. Until Jesse Manes stands up.

“Get away from my son, monster!” he exclaims.

Michael loses it.

“I'm the monster, am I?” he says through gritted teeth. “I'll show you a monster.”

Still cradling Alex's now still body in his lap, kneeling on the dirty, bloody floor, he buries his head into Alex's chest−barely moving, but he can hear a faint heartbeat−and he lets go.

He lets go of ten years of pain and anger. Of six days of the worst fear he can imagine. Of all the rage inside him.

It's a hurricane.

He can feel their neck snap. He can feel it all, the destruction, the violence, the death. It feeds him. The body are whirling around him and Alex and he can feel the foundations of the building itself, where to push to make it collapse, to destroy it all.

He hears, at the edge of his perception, cries from voices he recognizes, but he can't make out what they say. He's too far gone for words. The floor starts shaking.

A hand grips his arm weakly. “Michael,” Alex breathes into his ear. “Stop.”

Sobbing, Michael closes his hand, and the hurricane stops.

“Thank you,” Alex murmurs, before he closes his eyes and loses consciousness.

I’ll post the other parts in the next few days.

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell nm #stains #mine #echo's fanfiction

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bellakitse · 5 years

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Driving alone, following your form

Day 2 Fic prompt : Distance @michaelguerinweek

Michael leaves Roswell two weeks after they bring Max back to life. That's how long he manages to give his siblings before the sinking feeling that has surrounded him for the last seven months takes over him again.

He’s been drowning since Caulfield prison, Rosa coming back like a living ghost of all their sins, Max dead on a cave floor, and Alex.

Always Alex.

Alex who left time and time again but refused to leave at the prison, willing to die for him. Alex who gave him one absolutely crushed look when he found him at the Wild Pony with Maria and then shifted to his military persona in a blink of an eye, doing everything in his power to give him and Isobel back their brother.

It's ridiculous that with everything they all been through the last seven months, what has him the most in knots is Alex Manes, but when has that ever not been the case.

Aliens, secrets about a dead girl, murderous brother-in-law’s and in the end the first and last thought of every day for Michael still comes down to Alex. His anger, his resentment, his pain but most of all his all-encompassing love for the man.

He and Maria last exactly one kiss and one song, the look on Alex's face when he found them together still haunts the little sleep he manages to get.

So, he goes, quietly in the darkness of night. He leaves his siblings a note, telling them that he needs to go for a while, clear his head because he feels like a powder keg about to explode and if he does, he doesn't want them caught in the fallout. He asks they don't call him.

Isobel texts him hours after he's out of Roswell.

'You're an asshole, we love you, be safe.'

He lets out a noise when he reads it; half laugh, half sob, grateful for the understanding he doesn’t deserve. He’s put Isobel through the wringer during the months that Max slept in his pod. He should have been a better brother, and he promises himself as soon as he has his head on straight again, he’ll do exactly that.

On a whim he also leaves a note for Alex, telling him pretty much the same. He’s a mess and that he needs to go for a while. That he’s always loved him and that he’s sorry. He hopes that it’s enough but isn’t sure.

During the months they all worked on bringing Max back, Alex was there every step of the way, supporting Liz, being there for Isobel, being their access point to what the military knew. He risked his life and his career more than once to get them the information they needed. He worked side by side with Michael and never once brought ‘them’ up in conversation. A part of Michael was thankful for the reprieve, knowing that he wasn’t in the headspace to deal with everything Alex means to him. However, every time they didn’t talk about the elephant in the room the distance between them seemed to expand and Michael wonders; fears that there’s maybe too much damage, too much hurt on both sides. That maybe too much of everything has chipped away at their love.

He prays to a God he doesn’t believe in, that that’s not the case. He hopes as the miles between him and Roswell grow; that leaving will serve as a balm to the open wounds they both carry.

He has no plan, no map, no destination in mind for the first week, he drives his truck down main highways, taking exits and then back roads on a whim. He starts north, crossing Colorado without even stopping until he arrives at Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Stopping here and there in the picturesque town, grabbing some food and information before getting back in his truck and driving towards Grand Teton National Park. It’s the afternoon, later than when people usually get to the park but there are still families and groups around probably ready to call it a day if they aren’t sleeping onsite. Some make eye contact and even nod in his direction, but no one bothers him as he takes his camping equipment and starts to make his way up the trail to Lake Jenny where he’s decided to spend the night.

That night he sits outside his tent looking up at a starry sky that reflects on the still waters of the lake, and his only thought is how much Alex would love to see it. He takes a picture that comes out better than expected and he begrudgingly thanks Isobel for nagging him into updating his phone. He texts the photo to Alex before he can start to doubt himself, his heart beating fast when he sees ‘read’ on the message, he waits to see if Alex will text anything back. The seconds turn to minutes, and he shakes his head, calling himself an idiot. What exactly does he expect Alex to say to a damn picture?

He sits there wishing he had something to drink, Whiskey, a beer, definitely some acetone, but he’s made a commitment to himself to slow the fuck down, and he’s going to keep it. When his phone buzzes in his loose hold it startles him so much, he almost drops it.

It says: ‘That’s beautiful.’

It’s not much, but it still feels like an olive branch, and it helps loosen some of the tightness in his chest. He holds his breath as he sees little bubbles appear on the text indicating that Alex is writing. It stops and starts a couple of times, and Michael feels a stab of sympathy for Alex being at a loss for words. Finally, a text comes through.

‘Are you okay?’

Michael lets out a small, humorless laugh because the obvious answer to that is no. He’s not okay. He’s an alien, his brother died and came back to life, he watched his mother die in front of him, he loves a man more than anything in his life, and he can’t manage to get it right with him, and he’s currently running away from all of that like a child running away from home.

He starts to write without pause, lets every random, not so great thought that has circled his head pour out of him. That he’s never felt at home here and resents Isobel and Max for feeling differently, how he loves Max and is so grateful for having him back but resents him for playing god in the first place, for healing his hand without permission.

There are more little bubbles after he presses send on his small meltdown.

‘Feel better?’

Michael snorts, the question feels a little sarcastic and knowing Alex it probably was, surprisingly it does make him feel better, and he answers as much.

‘Good, I’m glad.’

Michael's thumbs hover over the keyboard, hesitating on whether he should ask or not, writing back he promises himself that if the answer is no, he won’t take it personally, he’s not the only one trying to heal here.

‘Can I keep texting you?’

He doesn’t have time to work himself up; Alex’s answer comes back fast.

‘I’ll be here.’

Michael can’t help the small smile it brings to his lips. That night he sleeps better than he has in months.

He hits the road again a day later, flipping a coin to see if he should keep heading north or turn east. Tails have it, and he heads into Nebraska and sees a lot of corn, a lot. When he tells Alex this on their now nightly communication, he gets pure sass in return.

'It’s the Cornhusker State, Guerin, what did you expect?'

The answer is so Alex that it makes his ridiculous heart do a funny jump. He treats Alex to a picture of the cornfields at sunset and Alex answers back with: 'I wish I could be there.'

Any chance of his heart settling down after that is hopeless; it beats hard against his chest as he answers back.

'Me too.'

Alex doesn't say anything after that, and Michael doesn't either; at peace with the exchange. Where before he would have seen the silence as Alex retreating, he's starting to understand that the last few months hasn’t been Alex distancing himself from Michael because he doesn't love him anymore. He's been trying to give Michael space to find his footing again after having the rug pulled from under his feet again and again. The damage that before seemed unfixable between them is slowly starting to mend with every text they share. He doesn't know if it's because they aren't facing each other and therefore don't have sex to fall back on or because quietly they both know what's really at stake for the first time, but they're talking in a way they never have before.

Alex hadn't been exaggerating when he said they loved each other without ever really talking and now that they are, Michael wants to know more. So, he asks questions without fear, in between driving, in-between states as he heads into Kansas and Missouri, crosses through Oklahoma to get to Texas. He texts and sends pictures; Alex answers and sends of few pictures of his own. The one of Isobel looking through dresses, her back to the camera has him raising an eyebrow. When he asks about that, he gets back:

'We've become close.'

It makes him smile, he likes the idea that Isobel and Alex have become friends, and he remembers the Max-less months how more than once Alex could be found next to Isobel, protective in his stance. Still knowing his sister and knowing Alex an alliance between them does send a shiver of nervousness down his spine.

‘Should I be scared?’

He gets back ‘Terrified’ and it makes him laugh, it’s followed with a selfie of Isobel and Alex, straight-faced, the hint of a smirk on both their faces and it squeezes his heart to see the two people he loves the most together.

He makes his way through Texas and stops in Hays County to get to the Dripping Springs; he sends a quick picture of the place to Alex, and he doesn’t have to wait long for a response.

‘That’s 500 miles from Roswell.’

Michael swallows hard because yes, he knows that. If he leaves now, he could be back in Roswell in about eight hours, take the US-87 N and US-380 W, and he’d be back home. But he’s not ready, he’s close, he’s better, but he’s not there yet. He tells Alex and holds his breath when he sees that Alex is texting back.

‘Okay, no rush. I’ll be here when you’re ready.’

He has to sit down at that answer and just breathe and keep on breathing. There has been a part of him, a part that has gotten smaller and quieter, but still there that has been whispering in his ear that maybe once he’s ready, Alex won’t be there. After all, isn’t that what he did to Alex when he was ready? He ran away and towards someone else, he realizes now out of fear. He’d gotten so used to Alex walking away, that he didn’t know what to do when Alex was standing in front of him, telling him that he wasn’t leaving anymore, that Michael is where he wanted to be. He ran.

He does cross into New Mexico but doesn’t stop until he hits Arizona. There he goes to The Grand Canyon, and it’s breathtaking at sunrise.

‘If I ask, will you come here with me someday?’

‘I’ll go with you wherever and whenever you ask, Michael.’

Michael sits on a massive boulder, his feet dangling, the morning sun hitting his face with a stunning view in front of him but all he can do is stare at Alex’s message and the significance of his name.

When he texts back, there is no more fear.

‘I haven’t looked away.’

‘Neither have I and I never will.’

If he cries for a while; the last remnants of his pain finally releasing him. If he cries because he’s finally within reach of what he has so desperately wanted since he was seventeen, no one’s around to watch. From there he knows what he wants, what he’s always wanted. He shoots Alex a text with coordinates and the time it will take him to get there as he enters California, he doesn’t get an answer back, but he doesn’t worry as he drives through Death Valley up to Yosemite, getting there as it starts to get dark.

He pulls into the campgrounds where there are other cars gathered, but he only notices one, or better yet, the man leaning against the car. Parking across Alex’s rental, he takes him in as the headlights of his truck illuminate him like a halo of light around him.

Alex has always been beautiful, he was beautiful back in high school with his emo punk clothes, he’s beautiful in his Air Force uniform, and everything in between, he’s beautiful now as he combines the boy he was and the man he is.

But after traveling for weeks on end with only a picture of the man he loves, looking at Alex now, he’s never been more breathtaking.

“You made good time,” he says as he gets out of his truck and walks over to him.

Alex gives him a small serene smile. “You took the long way; I took a plane.”

“I bet my view was better,” Michael teases.

Alex nods. “I have no doubt.”

“I’ll show it to you someday,” Michael blurts out, wincing at the volume of his voice. “Sorry, I’m nervous I guess.”

Alex looks at him, studies him in that Alex way of his, his expression softening. “Can I?” he asks quietly, his arms open. Michael doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps into Alex’s space and holds on as Alex’s arms circle him, his hold strong and comforting.

“I missed you,” Alex whispers into his neck and Michael answers by tightening his arms around him. They stay wrapped in each other for a while before Michael pulls back.

“Come on,” he says, taking Alex’s hand in his, leading him back to his truck to grab his gear. “I called ahead and reserved the spot we’re camping in,” he continues, heading up the trail the girl at the desk told him about.

It doesn’t take them long to get set up. At this point Michael is a pro at putting up his tent, it’ll be close quarters with Alex here, but given that they haven’t stopped holding each other since they laid down on one of his blankets staring at the sky, he doesn’t think either of them is going to complain.

“I’ve stared at the sky for weeks now,” Michael says quietly, not wanting to ruin the peace around them.

“I don’t blame you,” Alex says just as softly. “It’s beautiful.”

“I have been looking at the stars, searching for my home,” he continues, swallowing hard as he feels Alex tense up. He doesn’t stop him when he pulls away to sit up. Alex is quiet for a moment, his gaze upward.

“Did you find it?” he finally asks, looking back at Michael, the light of the night reflecting in his eyes like amber.

Michael nods and places a shaky hand over Alex’s chest. “Right here,” he says, tapping on Alex’s heart. “If I’m allowed in again.”

Alex lets out a watery laugh and a tear rolls down the side of his face, but the smile he gives Michael is wide, and the love that shines through his expression warms Michael more than the Roswell sun. “That implies that you ever left, Michael,” He answers, and it’s Michael's turn to cry as a sob passes his lips. Alex's hands cradle the back of his neck, and he presses his forehead against Michael’s. “And you have never, not for one second left my heart,” Alex continues, shushing him softly as Michael cries. “It’s yours, Michael, it’s yours.”

The first kiss they share in over nine months is salty from their tears, but as Alex holds him, as he whispers, he loves him, and Michael whispers it back, a sky full of stars above them and a future full of possibilities ahead of them, it’s utterly sweet.

#mgweek19 #guerinweek19 #roswell nm #malex fic #malex #michael x alex #my writing #click on the links to see the places michael visits

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facelessfrey · 4 years

Note

Both Heather and many people in the fandom seem to think that the threesome was a reaction to this scary threatening situation they had before at the boot maker’s. I know that when people are scared/upset/shaken they crave physical closeness, even sex and people aren’t thinking rationally so they might do things that you wouldn’t normally do. But these kind of things happen so often to the characters in this show so it’s hard to believe that this particular incident led to the threesome. 1/2

2/2 Michael saw his mother die and Alex and Kyle found out that their dads had been torturing aliens for decades but they didn’t have a threesome. Maria found out about Rosa being alive and her bf being an alien but no threesome. Max, Michael and Isobel thought that one of them had murdered multiple people. The list goes on and on.

Hahaha. I mean...you’re not wrong.

For me, at this point, it’s not even about whether or not the threesome was offensive or not. I still think it undermined all three characters but if people were fine with it or got something out of it, then cool, you do you.

For me, it’s just such laughably weird and terrible writing. Maybe it’s because I can’t even fathom a possible situation where a threesome would resolve any situation but I definitely don’t see why it would resolve this situation.

I guess it was “supposed” to give Alex closure?? and let him move on while solidifying Maria and Michael as a couple??? I think???

And maybe I might buy into that if the three of them had like...ever shared a scene before this...but they haven’t??? So I don’t know how it got to this moment where they really felt like this was the right thing to do??? I don’t know, it’s so weird to me. And other than a multishipper, I can’t imagine anyone who was like “ugh, why can’t just all sleep together” and was really excited by this prospect. Again, I’m really not the person who is ever going to understand why anyone would ever want this.

But also, in terms of closure and moving on, did Alex need a threesome to do so??? No? They’d already broken up like 95 times. He’d said he didn’t want to be another Manes man standing in Michael’s way. He’d already given both Michael and Maria his blessing on being together. All he needed to do was leave and go to that poetry reading. He just...didn’t need a threesome from a narrative perspective. AT ALL.

And for Maria and Michael, what they really needed was to have an actual conversation about why they sort of broke up in the first place. They literally hadn’t talked to each other in weeks since the alien secret came out. But the first thing they do is have a threesome with their best friend/ex boyfriend??? How does that even make sense?? Half my issue with the Michael and Maria relationship is that they’ve had like four scenes together that mean anything. The same way I needed more of Malex actually having a relationship in the present day last season, I need that for Maria and Michael now. Otherwise, I just don’t have the investment to care at all. But I mean, that’s par for the course with Maria who disappears constantly from the story and only interacts with people in montages.

As for it all being a response to this super traumatic thing? You’re right, this weird slasher film nonsense that served almost no plot purpose in the end was half played for laughs and TVD references. It doesn’t have the proper weight to it as a traumatic experience to hold up as a reason for having a weird threesome because you all just want to feel safe together. Especially when stacked up against many of the experiences they’ve already had.

I mean things on this show rarely make sense but this one really does just leave me scratching my head.

#roswell new mexico

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peraltasames · 5 years

Text

darkness will be rewritten into a work of fiction

in which almost going to jail in the finale sparks some fears in amy about their future as a family

for @fourdrinkamy bc emma requested some sweet hurt/comfort and she’s gonna crush all her exams like the badass Intellectual Woman she is (jake peralta believes in u and so do i) 💖💖💖

Amy’s familiar with most, if not all, of her husband’s facial expressions a year into their marriage.

She can tell when he’s pissed, when he’s disappointed, when he’s happy, when he’s nervous; more impressively, she can narrow it down to incredibly specific facial expressions like his I Just Solved a Case and I’m About to Brag About It All Day look and his Exhausted and Wanting To Cuddle On The Couch While We Watch Die Hard look.

It only takes her a few sideways glances in the cab ride home from the 86th precinct for her to identify his Something Is Definitely Up With You and We’re Gonna Talk About it When We Get Home face, which tends to make an appearance whenever something is bothering her (not unlike right now) - for all the credit she gives herself for knowing Jake inside and out, he knows her just as well.

His worry is even more thinly veiled than normal - sometimes he tries to coax it out of her gradually, but the moment they’ve stepped across the threshold and slipped off their shoes, he’s wrapping his arms around her from behind and murmuring in her ear: “What’s wrong, babe?”

She turns in his arms, letting his hands fall on her waist and reaching up to rest hers on his shoulders. Before she can process her thoughts enough to voice them, she needs just a moment to unwind from the stress of the day in the sanctuary of his arms.

“If this is about me not telling you the whole plan - I’m really sorry,” Jake adds before she gets the chance to speak, his brows furrowed. “Maybe I should have, but I was so worried about Holt finding out or the operation getting blown somehow and I just couldn’t risk it.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” she murmurs, hands running up and down his arms as a natural response to his rising concern. “I understand.”

Jake frowns and grabs her hand to lead her to the couch a few feet away, motioning for her to sit down next to him and lifting her legs over his lap so he can rub circles on her shin. He props his head up with his other arm on the back of the couch and tilts his head to face her, offering a small smile of encouragement for her to open up.

“Talk to me, babe.”

She sighs, avoiding his knowing gaze and playing with the hem of her sweater.

“I don’t blame you for not filling me in, but being in a jail cell - seeing you in a jail cell, going off to be interrogated again - that was-” She can already feel tears welling up in her eyes at the mere thought of him going to prison again, and she curses herself for her inability to not completely come undone whenever he talks to her like this, looks at her like that. “It was just a lot-”

He breathes out a soft “Ames,” and his voice is somehow infinitely softer than before. Of course his thoughts didn’t go to such a dark place - surely they would have, had it been a real possibility that he was going back to jail - and she can’t blame him for not considering the effects the plan may have on her emotions when he was so focused on making sure it went off without a hitch.

“I know it was all part of the plan, and you’re not actually going back to prison today-”

“Not ever,” Jake interjects, his eyes glistening with warmth and assurance. It’s not the first time he’s promised this - similar fears resurface in her nightmares and whenever someone brings up his and Rosa’s incarceration.

“Not ever,” she repeats, reaching to grab his hand. “But as long as we keep doing this…you know, fighting for the greater good and trying to be the good cops, we’re always gonna be crossing people. Bad people.”

“That doesn’t mean that more bad stuff is gonna happen to us.”

“What if it does?” she snaps back, squeezing his hand in silent apology after Jake winces. “What if we both get sent to prison? Or-or worse? What would happen to our-”

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence before his eyes flicker with understanding and more involuntary tears begin to pour down her face, ones that she doesn’t try to hide. It’s like they both realize what’s really bothering her in the same fraction of a second.

They decided to start trying for kids four days ago.

It was before the latest drama with Kelly began, before they assembled their own “suicide squad’, before any threats of going to jail or losing their jobs had arisen. During a normal Friday night in front of the TV and a pile of Thai takeout, Jake looked over at her and proudly proclaimed that he was ready.

(And maybe she thought he meant he was ready for sex and straddled him in the middle of Jeopardy while he struggled to pull away long enough to explain that he meant to have kids, but it was a good moment nonetheless.)

“C’mere, honey,” he mumbles, already pulling her into his lap and cradling her to his chest. Her face moves to the crook of his neck while she cries, finally releasing hours worth of pent-up anxiety. “It’s okay.”

He strokes her back and presses kisses to her hairline for a few minutes, each soft touch marginally regulating her heart rate and stopping her panicked tears from falling harder.

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” Jake whispers against her forehead. “We always figure it out, right? We caught Figgis, you guys busted Hawkins, now John Kelly’s gonna get fired. The good guys win, babe.”

He’s not wrong - there hasn’t yet been an obstacle that they haven’t found a way to overcome. Even when things seemed particularly dire, they managed to pull through. She doesn’t really have any reason to believe that that won’t continue to be the case.

“It’s still terrifying. We’re gonna be bringing another person into this world, Jake, and we literally see the worst of humanity every single day.”

“Exactly.” He brings her chin up to look at him and presses a quick peck to her nose, smiling softly as he pulls back. “We’ve been through all this and we still have enough hope and love to want to have a child together. Isn’t that kind of beautiful?”

She melts under his soft gaze, reaching up to gently play with the curls above his forehead and smiling fondly. His enthusiasm to have children together has increased substantially to match hers since their debate in the hospital, and it makes her heart swell with joy and excitement.

“Since when did you get so wise?”

“I’ve learned a lot against my will from all the NPR you listen to,” he teases, playfully poking at her ribs while she lets out a soft laugh.

It’s also kind of beautiful, she thinks, that her husband’s ability to make her laugh even at her worst moments as A) never wavered and B) been the number one thing she loves about him from their first date to their first anniversary of marriage.

“That’s my girl.” He gently, lovingly brushes the tears away from her cheeks with both thumbs. “Do you want me to go pick up some empanadas?”

The fact that he’s willing to drive to Queens right now to get her favourite comfort food from her favourite restaurant that doesn’t deliver almost makes her cry again, but she simply shakes her head and grabs his hand.

“Let’s just order pizza from somewhere close,” she suggests. “The sooner we eat, the sooner we can get back to-”

“Trying to procreate?”

“I was gonna say baby-making, you’ve really matured from all that NPR!”

She says it like a win, but he shakes his head and winces like a toddler being offered vegetables (or Jake being offered vegetables - she’s gonna have to work on her husband’s diet a little more before they have to deal with an actual child).

“I’m gonna have to make so many dumb sex jokes to make up for all that maturity.”

(He does not disappoint, in any manner, that evening.)

#jake x amy #b99 fic #myfics

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seeaddywrite · 5 years

Note

Prompt: malex phone calls bc sometimes its easier to say the things you need/want to say when its over the phone

I did this in a 3 + 1 format; three times that Malex can’t say what they need to express without a phone line between them, and one time they can. there’s a happy ending, i swear!

I. The first time Michael hears from Alex after he enlists, he nearly ignores the call. It’s been over a year since the incident in the shed; his hand is healed, and his heart has developed enough callous that he can pretend it has, too. Answering that call isn’t going to feed into that fantasy, because as soon as he hears Alex’s voice, Michael knows every defense he’s put up to contain that heartache is going to crumble. The smart thing to do would be to hit ‘ignore,’ and block the number – but while Michael may have a genius IQ, he’s never been known for doing the smart thing. The desire to hear Alex’s voice, to know he’s safe, overpowers every shred of common sense Michael possesses, and after the fourth ring, right before the call would be diverted to voicemail, he answers.

“And here I thought you lost my number,” Michael drawls, refusing to let on that he’s as off-balance as he feels. It’s a tactic he’s adopted more and more, lately, as the entire town starts to move on from Rosa Ortecho’s death while he’s left mired in the guilt and consequences of it. “To what do I owe the pleasure, private?” Alex isn’t the in the Army and Michael knows it, but since he’s done nothing but breathe into the receiver since the call began, Michael’s in the mood to wind him up, to get on the offensive and stay there so that he doesn’t end up letting himself get his hopes up. Again. It’s too damn easy for Alex Manes to get in his head if Michael’s not on guard against it.

The connection crackles, and Michael stands up from his bed in the newly-purchased second-hand trailer to move toward the door, where there’s usually better reception. “You planning on saying something, or should I just hang up now?” he demands, and his ears pick up the slightest hitch in breathing, a tell-tale sign that Alex is listening, and reacting, no matter what his silence might imply. But no matter how much of an asshole Michael is, he doubts it could cause the rapid breathing that sounds a hell of a lot like someone trying not to freak the fuck out.

Abruptly, Michael feels his demeanor thaw, and he sighs. “What’s going on, Alex?” he asks, his voice carefully even. “You okay?”

There’s another pause, and Michael begins to wonder if Manes had seriously called him to just sit on the line until Michael got frustrated enough to hang up. But then, finally, for the first time in over a year, Michael hears Alex speak.

“I just had a really shit day,” he says, and his voice is rough enough that Michael can tell he’s being vague more because he can’t talk about it than because he doesn’t want to. “And I got back to my bunk, and I saw your number on my phone, and I just –”

Michael blows a short, hard breath through his nose, a bitter half-smile contorting his expression. It’s a relief that Alex can’t see him, because God knows how he’d take that, but alone in his trailer, Michael doesn’t have to check himself. “And you just what, Alex? Why’d you call me? It’s been more than a year. And when you left, you made it pretty damn clear that you didn’t want to hear from me.” Guilt, Michael’s constant companion, rears its ugly head. Alex is obviously upset about something to have even made this call in the first place, and MIchael’s rehashing ancient history. But he has to know what this call is and why it’s happening. He has to moderate his expectations; otherwise, he’s going to end up thinking it’s something it’s not – and Michael’s all out of optimism.

A throat clears on the other end of the line, and Michael tries to picture Alex as he would look now, without the eyeliner and piercings, in ABUs with a buzzcut, but he can’t quite manage it. To him, Alex is always going to be the wannabe rebel who gave him a place in out of the cold – the one person who’d known about the chaos in his head and been able to calm it.

“I called because – because I watched someone die today, Guerin.” This time, it’s Michael’s breath that catches in his throat. He’s aware, obviously, that Alex is in an active fucking warzone, and that he could get hurt at anytime, but the stark reminder that Alex could end up like whatever poor, unlucky soul they’d lost today was enough to jolt him out of the harsh attitude. “And afterward, all I could think about was how much I wished you were here,” Alex continues, his voice a raw whisper. “Because you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe, and I could really, really use that right now. And I know I’m the last person that you want to hear from, but I –”

“You know better than that, Alex.” Michael cuts him off mid-sentence, unable to take anymore of the tremor in the other man’s voice. There’s a lot Michael would do to protect himself, to protect his family, but standing by while Alex is in pain and there’s something he can do about it is a physical impossibility. He can’t even summon anger, at the moment. “And if you don’t, you’re nowhere near as smart as I give you credit for.”

He’s about to say something he knows he’ll regret later. In person, he’d never manage to get the words out, but in the isolation of the Airstream, with no eyes on him, Michael can’t stop the words from spilling out. “I always want to talk to you. Every damn morning when I wake up, that’s the first thing I think about. Every time something good happens to me, I want to tell you about it. And every fucking night when I’m lying in bed, I wonder what it’d be like if you were laying next to me.” By the time he’s done, his voice is as hoarse as Alex’s, and he knows there’s no hiding it. As always, talking to Alex has left him flayed open and vulnerable, the layer of callous he’d built painstakingly around his heart worn away to nothing.

“So, yeah. You need me? You call me. I’ll always answer.”

Again, silence reigns on the phone line, and MIchael’s eyes slide closed against the insecurities that bubble up as soon as he realizes that Alex isn’t planning on saying anything. He rests his forehead against the humid metal of the door, staring down at the dirty tile of the entryway, and is about to end the call – and his own misery – when Alex says, so softly he can barely hear it: “That was exactly what I needed to hear.”

II. Michael doesn’t get a phone call when Alex is injured in the line of duty. He’s not family – he’s nothing, apparently, and doesn’t even rate a text. So he hears it about it from Maria in the middle of the Wild Pony a couple of weeks later, just dropped into casual conversation that Alex Manes is coming home since loss of limb disqualifies him from serving on the front lines. That night, after he’s drunk enough that he can’t think about it anymore, he punches Kyle Valenti in the parking lot. The adrenaline rush helps keep thoughts of Alex away, but the night in lock-up passes slowly, and insomnia keeps him awake, worrying and wondering about Alex, and imagining what it’ll be like to see him again. There’s no way they can avoid each other forever in a town this small, even if part of Michael would like to try, and he knows that the urge to be in Alex’s presence would overpower any self-protective instinct, anyway.

Alex shows up at the ranch where Michael lives and works a few days later, every inch his father’s son, and the bitterness exudes from Michael in waves the entire time they speak. He’s losing a job and a home, technically, but he cares more about the way Alex barely meets his gaze, and when he does, his expression is cool and professional. There’s nothing in this GI Joe of the boy Michael remembers, and he resents the new Alex for so thoroughly destroying the person he loved.

t’s stupid, and probably unfair to feel that way. For the last eight years, Alex had held him to his word that he could call if he needed Michael. They’ve talked at least once or twice a year, usually when something god-awful happened and Alex needed the reminder that the world was still turning, that he was still alive. Michael wondered, sometimes, if it wouldn’t have been better for Alex to find someone else to give him that – this dynamic they created couldn’t be healthy, and spending every day hoping for a call that rarely came was slowly driving Michael out of his mind. But the point is that they’ve talked. Michael knew, all along, that military service was changing Alex – in the later calls, some of the things he said, all ruthless and aggressive, weren’t words that would have ever been in teenaged Alex’s vocabulary. So this version of the man, aloof and battle-hardened, every inch the Manes man Jesse always wanted, shouldn’t have come as a surprise. But it still did, and fuck, it hurt.

Michael gets rid of Alex after that encounter, but he keeps showing up at his door, pinning notices and flirting until he catches himself, but it isn’t until the shitty high school reunion that Michael didn’t even want to go to that he finally sees his Alex beneath the uniform. It’s also the first real glimpse he gets of the prosthetic, shiny and artificial, beneath his pant leg. That’s nothing, of course – Alex could be stuck in a suit a la Darth Vader and he’d still be the sexiest man alive in Michael’s eyes. But it’s just another reminder of everything that’s changed, and everything Michael no longer has.

The kiss that night, the sex the following one – all of it is so good, so reminiscent of their time together in high school that Michael forgets, almost, how hard it is to watch Alex walk away. He’s good at putting on rose-colored glasses when it comes to the past, but this time, he’s definitely done too well. This time, when Alex walks away, calling him a criminal and rejecting him thoroughly in the meantime, Michael feels something integral in his chest shut down. There’s no getting back up after someone shoves him that hard, and he’s not sure he even wants to. He goes through the rest of the day on autopilot; he fights with Max and schemes with Isobel to protect their secrets, but internally, he’s a living, breathing open wound.

When he finally gets an evening to himself, Michael drinks so much acetone-laced whiskey that he barely remembers leaving the voicemail the next day, let alone what it says. He’d never say any of it to Alex’s face; the guilt alone would kill him. But when Alex checks his inbox next, the words are there, heart-rending and painful, even as it’s slurred and difficult to understand:

“Hi.” There’s a loud thudding noise, and someone yells for Michael to ‘get the fuck out of the way’ in the middle of the recording. “I don’t know what I’m fucking doing, you know? I haven’t known what I’m doing for ten years. I’m just here. In Roswell, and you were halfway across the frickin’ world and I still couldn’t escape you. And then those phone calls –” Michael laughs bitterly, the alcohol granting the sound a borderline hysterical tinge. “I actually thought they meant something, you know? All that stuff about me making you feel safe. About you needing me. Makes you wonder if whoever gave me that IQ test actually knew what the hell they were doing, right?” Another one of those sour laughs distorts the recording. “I got what, two days, maybe, of spending time with you, and that shouldn’t have been enough to fuck me up when you gave up, but God, Manes, I don’t – nothing about how I feel about you makes sense. I want you so bad it hurts. I was literally laying in bed last night, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember how it felt to have you there. So yeah, I want you and I miss you, but fuck, Alex, sometimes – right now – I wish I’d never met you.”

III. After he leaves Michael’s alien-tech bunker, Alex doesn’t know whether he wants to get a stiff drink, to go to bed, or to throw a temper tantrum. He ends up at the Wild Pony and ends up doing two out of three when he sits down to talk to Maria. He realizes, looking back, that talking to her right after he found out that she’d slept with Michael, when the hurt was still fresh, was a stupid idea. He hadn’t been cruel, exactly, but he hadn’t handled it very well, either, and he knows he hurt her. He’s been doing that a lot lately – hurting people he loves. Michael’s at the top of the list, obviously, but now Maria is just below, and he doesn’t know how to fix it with either of them.

Post-deployment, Alex knows he’s a mess. He’s always been some level of fucked up; a father who’s leisure activities included breaking one’s bones would do that to a kid. But at least as a child, he’d had other people to turn to. There’d been Jim Valenti, and Mimi DeLuca, and Liz and Maria, who’d become more like family as they got older. He’d had a support system, and people to talk to when he needed to work through the things that happened to him at home.

In the desert, though, there’s an ‘every man for himself’ mentality that’s impossible to shake now that he’s home. His unit would’ve died for him, and he for them, but they didn’t talk about harsh realities or fears. That was inviting bad luck, and the had enough as it was. And then, when he was sent back state-side, physical therapy was far more important than the ‘sit in a chair and cry’ kind. He did the required sessions, but when that was done, Alex was left to cope on his own.

Michael’s born the worst of his behavior changes, he knows, just like he knows that the way he keeps walking back into the man’s life for a few days only to leave again is wrong. But how can he commit to anything permanent with Michael when he can’t even keep his own head on straight? He needs to relearn what it is to be a person without a uniform, and he needs time to do that – but he’s always thought, when he manages to do it, Michael would be there. Waiting. But Michael’s sleeping with other people and building a fucking spaceship to leave the planet, and Alex is running out of time.

Kyle’s call comes just in time to stop Alex from getting shift-faced in the middle of the afternoon, and he supposes he should be grateful. The code-breaking distraction is nice, but it leaves him with a head full of information he doesn’t know what to do with when he’s back at home in the sparsely-furnished cabin. Alone. The place hasn’t really felt lonely before, but Alex supposes he’s never known Michael hates the world enough to want to leave it permanently, either. That’s bound to make a difference.

When he’s settled in bed, prosthetic propped against the wall near his crutches, Alex scrolls listlessly through his Facebook feed, knowing he’s not getting any real rest that night. He’d like to say it’s purely accidental when his finger lands on Michael’s number – but the truth is that he’s been the number one speed dial in Alex’s phone for ten years, and the cabin is too quiet, and all Alex wants in that moment is to hear Michael’s voice and get some reassurance that he won’t disappear overnight. And why is it so much fucking easier to say things like that on the phone?

“If you’ve uncovered another government conspiracy, I don’t want to know about it,” is how Michael answers the phone. There’s no noise in the background, suggesting he’s as alone as Alex. That knowledge shouldn’t make him feel as good as it does, Alex knows, but he can’t help it. “Seriously, man, just keep it to yourself, because I’ve had about all the excitement I can take.”

Alex snorts, and shakes his head before remembering Michael can’t see him. “Just the one,” he promises. “That’s not why I’m calling, though.” He leans back against the pillow behind him, rubbing absent-mindedly at the indents left by the compression sock around his residual limb.

There’s a beat of silence, then: “If this is some sort of phone sex proposition, I’m going to have to remind you that today you said you wanted to be friends.” The drawl is full of insinuation, and Alex is infused with the knowledge that if he said that he did want to have phone sex, or the up-close-and-personal kind, Michael wouldn’t say no. Even after everything, Guerin’s still willing to drop everything for him. The realization is both humbling and terrifying.

“I lied,” Alex admits, swallowing heavily.

“I know.”

The response is simple and direct, but Alex wishes Michael would elaborate. He knows? How exactly is Alex supposed to take that? Before he can work himself up into proper frustration, though, Michael finishes, “I don’t think we can ever just be friends, Manes. And the way you took off like a bat outta hell when I showed you the console just proves it.”

Alex’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?” He thinks he knows the answer, or can at least take a pretty good guess, but he’s not sure he wants to say the words aloud and be told otherwise, so he holds his silence.

“All this time, you’ve been the one walking away,” Michael says, the words succinct and devoid of accusation – he just sounds exhausted, which is worse than any sharp-edged words Alex can imagine. “You were in control. Now, when I might be the one who does the leaving, you don’t like it.”

Abruptly, hurt swamps Alex, shoving out every other feeling, and his head spins with the redirection. “You think this is about control?” he demands, each word as quick and sharp as the pinch of a needle. “You think I was upset because I didn’t get to hurt you first this time? Fuck, Guerin, why would you even bother to pick up the phone if that’s what you think of me?”

“I told you a long time ago that I’d always be here if you needed me,” Michael answers, and finally, instead of that world-weary tone, Alex hears resentment creeping back. It’s probably fucked up that he prefers that, but he doesn’t care. An angry Michael is one who hasn’t given up yet, and that’s what Alex needs from him. “And I’d hate myself if I broke a promise to you.”

Alex doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know where to even begin, so he just blurts, “It’s not about control,” like Michael hadn’t spoken at all. It’s the coward’s way out, but Alex has always lost his courage when it comes to Michael. “I know I’m the reason we’re not together, Guerin. I know I keep pushing you away and hurting you, but the idea of living on a planet where you don’t exist anymore is the single most terrifying thing that I can imagine.”

He pulls in a shaky breath, holds it for a moment, and lets it out. It’s one of the few useful things his VA-appointed therapist had taught him, and it centers him enough to let him realize that this is the worst possible way to tell Michael anything important, when he can’t even see his face or kiss him, but Alex can’t stop now. “I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen, and I’ve always had this picture in my head of what my life would look like, you know? I’d be old and grey and sitting a rocking chair on a front porch somewhere far away from Roswell, somewhere where there’s actual green grass. And when I pictured it, usually on really shit days when my dad had just knocked me down the stairs, or when I was sweating my balls off in the middle of Afghanistan, you were always right there next to me on that porch– still trying to flirt even with bad eyesight and a bum hip.”

He chuckles, the sound sadder than it should be, and cuts off anything Michael might have said. “And I just wanted you to know that, before I tell you that the last piece of that console is in your truck bed. I left it there, this morning.” Alex struggles to keep talking; it’s hard to push sound through the lump in his throat, but he manages. He always manages. “Jim Valenti left it for me, and I’m – I’m giving it to you. So you can find your home. Because I want you to be happy, Michael. There’s no one who deserves it more than you. So – I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Alex doesn’t want to hear him say goodbye, or to stumble through what would be the final, official end of this thing that’s burgeoned between them for a decade. His heart can’t take that.

He ends the call.

IV. Less than a month later, Michael hasn’t gone anywhere.

Alex has seen him, worked with him, and even flirted with him, but they’ve avoided talking about anything personal. There’s too much raw emotion compressed between them; if given the smallest flame, it would explode and devour them both. There’s no time, anyway – Isobel’s husband is an alien serial killer, Jesse Manes is masterminding a government conspiracy that has to be stopped, and Michael’s entirely too distracted by the realization that his home planet may not be somewhere he actually wants to go. (The latter is hopeful thinking on Alex’s part, since they aren’t talking about anything personal, but after hearing what Noah said about a war-torn world, it’s a distinct possibility.)

Now that things have settled down more, Alex finds himself alone a lot. It’s no more than he was lone before being dragged into the madness that was aliens and government conspiracies, but the constant company and forced camaraderie that developed among the group of them working to keep Michael and his siblings safe had been almost nice – and the absence of it is obvious, now, while he sits alone in his living room, staring mindlessly at the television.

His enlistment with the Air Force ended that morning.

Alex still hasn’t wrapped his mind around that fact; the thing that is simultaneously the best and worst thing that ever happened to him is gone, now, and he’s free. There are choices to make, pros and cons to consider, and all he’s managed to do that day is sit around and feel sorry for himself in the dim lighting of his living room. And drink. Can’t forget that last part.

What is he going to do, now? Aside from continuing to work on taking Jesse Manes down, Alex has no plans. He can live for a while on his retirement stipend, but eventually, he’s going to need to get a job – go back to school, maybe? Get a degree in IT? It would be the expected thing, considering his background, but Alex can’t help but think a job behind a desk sounds like the most boring fate imaginable. He lost a leg, not his sense of adventure, and he want doesn’t to commit himself to something that he’s going to hate.

So, what then, does he want from his Air Force-less future?

When the answer comes, it’s the same one as always. Alex wants to be happy. He wants to leave Roswell and move somewhere that he can have a real yard, and see all four seasons. He wants to have a dog and a job doing something that interests him, and a big enough kitchen that his friends can come for dinner without an invitation. But all of that is secondary to the most obvious of Alex’s desires: Michael Guerin. He wants that future he spelled out for him in that last, painful phone call, with rocking chairs and wrinkles and inappropriate flirting, and he wants it so much that his chest physically aches with longing when he thinks about it.

Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe Alex has just had enough of waiting and hoping that life will just work out the way he wants it to. He’s been a passive observer in his own life for too long, letting his insecurities and anxiety run the show, and for once, Alex is going to take control for himself.

Before he can talk himself out of it or even second-guess the decision, Alex is behind the wheel of his SUV, headed toward the junkyard where Michael parks his trailer. He has no idea what he’s going to say, or how Michael will react to Alex just showing up like this, but for once, the uncertainty doesn’t scare him. They’ve both managed to be honest before with a phone line between them – it’s time to stop hiding behind his iPhone and admit that he’s in love with Michael Guerin out loud and in person. After that, the ball will be in Michael’s court, and Alex will have at least tried. If it doesn’t work, at least he won’t have to go to his grave wondering what would have happened if he’d been strong enough to do it.

Alex’s heart is racing by the time he pulls up in front of the trailer, and his palms are sweating. He feels like that teenager about to make a move on the boy he likes in the shed again, and it’s astounding, since Alex has been pretty sure that part of him died in Baghdad.

Michael meets him outside the front door, wearing old jeans and a ratty t-shirt that mean he’s been working on engines all day. Oil streaks his hands and clothing, he’s sweating, and obviously in need of a shower. Sane people wouldn’t be attracted to that.

Alex has never wanted to kiss him so badly.

“I thought about calling you,” he begins, a small smile playing around the corners of his lips. “Since we only ever seem to be able to actually talk that way. But – I don’t know. I guess this time, I wanted to be able to see your face.” The space between them closes as Alex steps forward. Michael doesn’t come to meet him, but he doesn’t step back, either, which Alex takes as a good sign.

“The last time I asked you what you wanted to talk about, you got the after-school special version of my childhood,” Michael says dryly, sauntering toward the lawn chairs sitting around the fire pit. “And then you told me Max, Iz, and I were on a government watchlist, and under suspicion of being serial killers. Should I start packing to run, this time?” He’s mostly kidding, Alex thinks, but there’s something in the depths of his eyes that says it would be easier for him to believe that someone else was coming after them than Alex wanting to commit. Alex supposes he deserves that, even if it stings.

He joins Michael at the cold fire pit and sits, taking a moment to adjust the compression sock where it’s slipped and rubs against his skin. As usual, Michael doesn’t bat an eye at the sight of his prosthetic – he still can’t quite believe that the other man just took the loss of Alex’s leg in stride the way he did. Even when they were having sex, Michael didn’t ask any questions, or treat him any differently than he had before the amputation. That alone is enough to solidify Alex’s certainty that he needs to at least try to convince Michael to give him another chance.

“I don’t have any bad news this time, I swear.” Alex looks over at Michael and smiles nervously, taking a moment to catalogue every curl of his hair and lines on his face. If this goes sideways, he wants to remember Michael just like this when he leaves Roswell – relaxed and content, heathy and at least mostly happy, now that he and his family are safe.

Michael gives him a moment before raising an expectant eyebrow. “There’s a shower calling my name, Manes, so if you want my attention you better start talking.” The teasing note in the other man’s voice is the same one that has crept in the last few weeks as they danced painstakingly around the giant pink elephant in the room, and Alex hates it. He hates the distance it puts between them, and everything it represents.

“The last time I called you, I told you that I was in love with you,” he blurts, and immediately wishes he could take it back and dress up the declaration into something better than that bald, blunt truth. “And I wanted to say it again, in person, because last time it got twisted into a goodbye, and I’m so fucking tired of saying goodbye to you, Guerin.”

Stunned incredulity blossoms over Michael’s face, and Alex sits stiffly in the ensuing silence, waiting for him to say something. He understands needing time to process, but Alex feels like he’s sitting on pins and needs as he waits.

“What?” When the response comes, it’s not at all what Alex wants. Michael looks genuinely confused by what he’s said, like he thinks he heard wrong or something ridiculous, and Alex wants to shake him, to say it over and over again until he understands.

“I love you,” Alex repeats baldly, turning frustration to courage with sheer force of will. He pushes himself out of the flimsy lawn chair and skirts the fire pit, moving to Michael’s side and grabbing his hand to tug him up, out of the chair. To his relief, the other man doesn’t fight it, and stands directly in front of Alex, less than six inches of space separating them. They’re close enough that Alex can feel the heat wafting off of Michael’s body, and the scent of a man who’d spent a long day doing physical labor in the sun shouldn’t electrify his skin, but a shiver runs down Alex’s spine anyway. Sex has never been a problem for the two of them, and even now, Alex is pretty sure he’d want Michael in any form he came.

“I’m in love with you,” he modifies, in case there was any doubt, and rushes on before Michael can tell him to stop or leave. “I was sitting at home today trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, now that I’m out of the military, and the only answer I could come up with was that I wanted to be with you. Everything else, I have no fucking clue. Do I go back to school? Do I get a job? How am I going to support myself? I don’t have any idea, but I know that I want to get old with you and make people uncomfortable with how sappy and in love we are in fifty years.” Alex can hear the hopeful longing in his own voice and hopes that Michael can, too, so he knows how serious he is, this time.

Michael opens his mouth to say something, but Alex puts a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. “I know what you’re going to say. I’ve shown up like this before, and I’ve always gotten your hopes up and left, and I’ve hurt you so many times that you have absolutely no reason to trust me, but God, Guerin, I feel like I’ve been on pause for a decade of my life, waiting to finally feel like the person you deserve to be with. But I’m never going to be that person. This is who I am – but every part of me is in love with you, and I’m done running. Try one more time. Take a chance; I swear you won’t regret it. I –”

Anything else Alex might have said is swallowed by Michael’s mouth on his. The movement is so quick Alex can barely track it; suddenly, there is a big, calloused hand at the back of his neck and another at the collar of his flannel, yanking him in. He almost overbalances on his bad leg – and shit, wouldn’t that just ruin the moment? – but Michael’s chest is there, warm and firm and supportive. And then, just like that, they’re kissing.

Just like every other kiss they’ve shared since they were seventeen, this one is so intense that Alex goes from anxious to turned on in less than a moment. Every brush of Michael’s skin against his feels like static electricity, and he can feel himself flush under the attention. It’s soft, tentative and sweet for a fleeting moment as they get used to each other again, but it turns hard and bruising quickly, as both men lose their patience to pleasure. Alex would have been fine to end the conversation there. This is what he wanted – to touch Michael and be touched in return, to kiss him and hold him whenever he wanted, to know that when he needed him, Michael would be there, and vice versa. They’d been dancing around this for so long that now, standing on the cusp of it, Alex felt like he was diving off of a cliff … and he’d never been happier to be so fucking terrified.

“You talk too much,” Michael rasps, when their screaming lungs force them to come up for air. Their foreheads are leaned together, sweaty and flushed, but Alex only cares that they’re still fused together. Half of him is afraid that if Michael lets go of him, the magic of the moment will wear off and Alex will find himself back at home, alone again.

Alex tries to glare at him, but he’s fairly certain the expression is far too sappy to be considered angry. “Excuse me?”

“You talk too much,” Michael repeats, unrepentant. “If you’d let me get a word in edgewise, we could’ve been kissing like ten minutes earlier, and we could be in bed already.” He nuzzles a kiss alongside Alex’s jaw, just the barest hint of lips against the sensitive skin, and Alex shudders. In return, he slips the fingers of one hand up into Michael’s curls, carding at the matted hair gently in the manner he knows will make the other man melt. To his delight, Michael pushes his head into the contact, urging him to continue.

“Everything I said was important,” he tells Michael, trying to muster up some indignance – and giving in quickly. He’s too euphoric to feel anything but happiness, and he doesn’t wan to even try. “You have to know that I’m –

Michael huffs, and shakes his head, interrupting Alex’s explanation. “You still don’t get it,” he says, and there’s a fond exasperation in his eyes that makes Alex feel warm all over. “I told you a long time ago that I’d always be here when you needed me, Alex. That wasn’t bullshit. I’ve never given up on you. Even when I wanted to. So it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve walked away, as long as you’re walking back.” He drops a kiss to the corner of Alex’s mouth, then wraps his arms around his waist and hugs him so tightly that Alex gasps a little at the impact. He clutches back just as tight, feeling a little light-headed. This is real. This is happening.

“So, that means –”

“It means we’re gonna have to figure out where we buy matching old man rocking chairs,” Michael drawls, the fingers of his good hand soft as they slip beneath the hem of Alex’s shirt and rest against his bare back. “Because you’re stuck with me for at least the next hundred years.” He kisses him again, then, and Alex tastes the words he didn’t say on his tongue.

I love you.

#malex fic #my fic #michael guerin/alex manes #roswellnm #angst #prompts

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jtoddstrangersfic-blog · 5 years

Text

Strangers (Jason Todd x Female OC): Chapter 2

TRIGGERS: Cursing, some domestic abuse, mention of wanting to die, attempted mugging/assault, mentions of drugs

Author’s Note: Sorry it took so long to post this one, I’ll do better I swear!

3,920 words

Masterlist

Jason

It was 5 o’clock on Wednesday, and Jason found himself laughing along with Rachel and a few other students from his World Literature class in the library at Gotham Community College. The group took up one of the large tables on the second floor, and they were surrounded by other groups working in a similar manner on various coursework.

The group was engrossed in gossip regarding some of the other students in their Literature class, many of whom Jason didn’t even know. He relished in the stories and rumors being shared by his classmates, who were trying to have some lighthearted fun after the two hours of work they put into their research assignments. Although he didn’t particularly like gossip, Jason was nosy and didn’t see the harm in joining in on such a *normal* college activity.

“I can’t believe Bryant got away with that!” Chelsea, one of Rachel’s more boisterous friends, snickered into her palm. The group was talking quietly to avoid any eavesdroppers, but every now and then one of them would crack up and become a little too loud. “You know he almost dropped out of high school because of that, right? We were in the same classes together senior year, and we were all sure he would get caught. I didn’t even see him around campus until recently, and I don’t even know if he was at graduation-“

Jason tuned her out, glancing around the library to the clock on the wall closest to his table. He would probably stay another hour before he needed to leave. He had work for a different class to finish before patrol tonight, and didn’t want to have to wake up early the next morning to finish it. His eyes traveled down the wall to one of the individual cubbies against the wall, where his gaze fell on the back of a familiar head. It was the quiet girl who sat next to him in class.

His eyes raked down her body, taking in her light blue jeans and trendy brown leather jacket. She was wearing a jacket again, on another warm day.

Rachel nudged Jason, pulling his eyes away from the girl as her hand flew across her notebook not thirty feet from where he sat.

“That’s the girl from our class, right?” He asked Rachel quietly, motioning to the girl in question with his head. “The one who sits next to me?”

“I think so.” Rachel followed his nod, her eyes landing on the girl’s back. “I don’t know her very well.”

“No one does.” Sam cut in, noticing the pair eyeing the girl writing like a madman in her notebook. “She’s hot, but never hangs with anyone.”

“I’ve had a couple classes with her.” Chelsea whispered, her eyes never leaving the new topic of conversation. “Her name’s Rian, she’s weird. Quiet, doesn’t really socialize with any of us. Thinks she’s above it all, you know, all this college stuff. I never see her at, like, parties or bars or anything, I don’t even think she lives on campus.”

“Snooty.” Rachel added, her eyes trailing along Jason’s face. Her mouth twitches when she sees the interest he’s taken in Rian.

His eyes were drawn to her, out of pity or curiosity he isn’t sure. She sits next to him in class, (well, her bag does), and he still hasn’t had a single conversation with her. The only reason he knows what her voice sounds like is because she sometimes answers questions in class, but only when she’s called on. She never volunteers information. She’s guarded, something Jason sympathizes with.

“Jason?” Chelsea snapped her fingers in his face to gain his attention. “Are you with me?”

“Sorry, yeah.” He muttered, blue eyes reluctantly leaving Rian. “I just- never mind.”

As if on cue, Jason’s phone vibrated on the table next to his hand. He glanced at it quickly; a message from Dick.

“Shit.” He mumbled, opening the lengthy message. Dick was never one to be brief. “I have to go,” Jason started packing his things, standing quickly as he typed a response to Dick. Apparently Tim found a lot of information about the drug lords and Bruce wanted everyone at the house ASAP to brief them for a raid. If they could pull this off, it would stop a large shipment of laced heroin from entering the streets, and prevent a lot of overdoses and potential addictions. “Thanks for inviting me, this was fun.” He flashed a quick smile at the group, his eyes landing on a disappointed Rachel. “I’ll see you on Friday?”

She gave him a small nod and a shy wave as he rushed out of the library, grateful he brought his motorcycle today.

It was going to be a long night.

Rian

Rian was frantically trying to finish her statistics homework at the Gotham Community College library before returning to her apartment, where she was sure her boyfriend of three years, Riley, would be waiting. Although the couple hadn’t officially moved in together, he basically lived with her. Rian didn’t mind in the beginning of their relationship, but the past year had turned volatile as an uneasy tension settled between the two young adults.

He became paranoid. Controlling. Distrusting. Everything he swore he would never become after witnessing a violent upbringing on behalf of his alcoholic father. It started with small actions; questioning the “appropriateness” of Rian’s outfits, asking her to make him dinner before work because he was too tired; and eventually turned into more problematic actions; grabbing Rian’s arm too hard during arguments, prohibiting her from leaving her apartment to see friends without him, controlling every aspect of her life.

Riley would berate her, accuse her of cheating on him, accuse her of thinking she was better than him. He would throw her around the apartment like a rag doll, releasing his pent-up anger and aggression and frustrations. He would leave trails of bruises along her arms and torso from his outbursts, and sometimes from the sex he would force her to have with him after. He was slowly becoming his father, and Rian were helpless to save him from it.

She initially stayed with him because she thought he could be saved, but now she stayed with him out of fear and shame. Over time, Rian began to believe the things he said, even though she knew better. Even if she left, as he often suggested sarcastically, what would she do? Where would she go? She was a shell of a person now, a black-and-white copy of the person she used to be. He had broken her, and she was stuck in a cycle of violence and unhappiness she couldn’t escape from.

The only joy in her life was her love of fashion, books, and writing. She was lucky to hold a part-time work-from-home job as a junior assistant editor for the Gotham Chronicle. It didn’t pay much, but it allowed her to pay some of her rent with a little money left over for groceries. Rian was fortunate to hold a generous scholarship from Gotham Community College, which helped pay the remainder of her rent in addition to her classes and course materials. As her final year at Gotham began, Rian feared what she would do after graduating. She didn’t have any money saved up, and Riley would sooner chain her to their bed than let her get another part-time job somewhere.

Rian’s mind drifted further from her homework, but a series of giggles behind her chimed in her ear. It was a group of students from her World Literature class, and she was sure they were laughing at her. She only had a few classes with the notorious Chelsea Rosa, and never did anything to upset her, but Rian knew from the disgusted look on Chelsea’s face anytime the two girls were in the same room that she hated her. Chelsea probably hated how Rian always sported perfect hair and makeup, and meticulously planned her outfits every Sunday night for the following week. Chelsea probably hated the facade Rian hid behind to hide her insecurities and toxic relationship with Riley. Rian wished she didn’t care, she wished she didn’t let it gnaw at her insides anytime she saw Chelsea, but it did. Rian couldn’t fight it, and just like her relationship with Riley, she was helpless to change it.

Rian risked a glance over her shoulder at the table of five students, all of whom were definitely looking at her. Most turned their heads when they saw her notice them. Rachel, Sam, Joaquin, Yesenia. The only one who held Rian's gaze was Chelsea.

Rian turned away quickly. She was definitely done with her homework now. She glanced at her phone as she began quietly packing her bag. It was almost six o’clock; she should have been on her way home twenty minutes ago.

Rian sped through the library toward the main doors as she mentally cursed herself for not setting a timer. Riley expected her to make dinner for him every night, something he subconsciously learned from his years as a child observing his parents. He expected her to be back from classes by six o’clock, seven at the very latest before his shift at the Gotham docks.

Riley was a few years older than Rian, but never attended college. He chose instead to work as a security guard at the docks, taking extra shifts at night to earn more money. He would always throw that factor in Rian’s face, claiming he needed the extra money to take her out to eat and buy her new clothes and makeup. She never asked him to do any of these things, but again he learned them from watching his parents. His father was the family breadwinner, and although he showered Riley’s mother with gifts, everything came at a price. He expected Rian to give him anything he wanted; dinner, massages, sex; in return for these hollow gifts. Empty sentiments to their toxic relationship.

Rain began to lap against the concrete beneath Rian’s heels as she hurried across campus. She opened Uber on her phone, hoping to catch a nearby driver to get her to the apartment as quickly as possible. Just as she began to type in her address, wiping the screen dry from the rain with the sleeve of her new brown jacket, the screen went black.

Rian stared at the rectangle in her hands with disbelief. Did it really have to die now? She swallowed hard, fear rising in the pit of her stomach as she started running toward her apartment. She needed to get there, and she needed to get there fast.

Raindrops pelted her face as she hurried through the desolate streets of Gotham. Bad things happened in Gotham to women who traveled alone at night, yet here she was. She partly hoped some thug would stop her, end her miserable existence to prevent her from returning home to Riley. It was a twisted thought, but it settled her nerves with its realism.

Rian scolded herself for staying at the library too late. She just wanted to finish her homework, she was so close. And there would be no finishing it when she arrived home, not with Riley there. Even after he left for work, she was usually too emotionally and physically drained to do much of anything. Dr. Cortez cancelling his Wednesday class presented Rian with the perfect opportunity to catch up on her statistics class.

She hurried into her apartment building twenty-five minutes later, darting passed the broken elevator to the staircase to climb the eleven flights to her apartment.

11F. That was her.

Rian sighed as she stuck her key in the lock on the green door, dreading the fuming man on the other side.

“You’re home late, babe.” Riley commented coldly the second she closed the front door behind her, locking it against intruders. He was perched on the couch, watching a Bruce Willis movie on her TV.

“I got caught in the rain.” Rian muttered feebly, dropping her wet bag at her side. “And my phone died so I couldn’t call an Uber.”

Riley turned his head to watch her with distant eyes as she removed her jacket, hanging it on the small coat rack next to the door. Rian brushed her sopping wet hair over her shoulder, hoping to keep herself busy as Riley sized her up.

“What do you want to eat?” She asked quietly, opening the refrigerator. “We have…” Her green eyes scanned the barren shelves, cursing herself again for wasting time at the library instead of grocery shopping. Her eyes scanned over the half-eaten bag of lettuce, various condiments, tubs of hummus, and very old Chinese takeout before she remembered the box of pasta she kept stashed on top of the refrigerator. “I can make pasta if you want? Before you have to leave?” Rian had been saving that pasta for a special meal for herself when Riley would be working all weekend, but she lacked the right ingredients to make the meal and she could always buy more when she eventually went to the store.

She glanced at the clock above the stove. Riley usually left around eight o’clock, sometimes nine or ten depending on which shift he took. Tonight she was sure he was supposed to leave at eight, and she hoped he would leave earlier. He was already wearing his uniform, confirming her suspicions.

“We’re out of sauce.” He stated coldly, rising slowly from his seat on the couch. “How am I supposed to eat pasta without any sauce?”

Rian froze. She knew what was going to happen before it did. This happened hundreds of times before. It was her fault she didn’t go shopping, and Riley wasn’t going to let that go. He would belittle her and berate her, maybe hit her or push her down. She would apologize profusely until he was through fighting with her. Sometimes she would fight back, but those outbursts became less frequent, as she knew she would never win.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think-“

“You never do, do you?” He scolded, walking toward her as she cowered away from him. “You never think about anyone else, even your own boyfriend. I take care of you, right? I take you out to eat, buy you nice things, support your desire to get an education even though it’s a waste of time,” He sneered the last part and Rian swallowed hard. “And yet you can’t make me a good dinner. I never fucking eat well because you never care to make me dinner. It’s fucking unbelievable.”

Rian stays quiet, squeezing her eyes closed as Riley approaches. It’s futile to try to reason with him.

“You have to be the most selfish bitch I’ve ever met.” He continued as he brushed passed her, grabbing his jacket as he unlocked the apartment door. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, you better have that pasta ready.”

He slammed the door loudly, and Rian released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. That interaction had gone better than most, but she knew she had to go to the store to buy his pasta sauce before it closed. If he returned to no dinner… she shuddered at the memory of all the foundation she had to use to hide her black eye the last time this happened.

Rian grabbed her wet coat from the rack, counting down from 100 in her head before leaving to avoid seeing Riley in the lobby. It was going to be a long night.

The corner convenience store five blocks from her building was fortunately still open as Rian rushed inside, frantically looking through the pasta and chip aisle for Riley’s favorite pasta sauce. She found it after a few minutes, finally allowing herself to relax as she cashed out with Mrs. Chen, the kind older woman who owned the store.

“Pasta sauce at this hour?” She asked, offering Rian a kind smile.

“It’s an emergency.” Rian smiled back at her as she was handed her change.

“Must be.” Mrs. Chen muttered before turning to the only other shopper in the store. “Need help? We’re closing soon.”

The man grunted in response, and Rian felt his eyes on her as she retreated to the door. Rian ignored the dread that filled her stomach, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck as she rushed into the rain.

She only had two blocks before she would be safely in her apartment. Well, as safe as she could be knowing Riley would be returning later. She was practically running across the vacant streets, not a soul in sight.

As Rian passed the laundromat where she brought her laundry, she felt a pair of hands grab her waist. She was hauled into an alleyway before she knew what was happening.

“Easy there, shortcake.” A burly voice sounded in her ear. A dirty hand clasped down on Rian's mouth as she tried to kick her assailant, struggling in his grasp. The smell of cigarettes and cheap beer filled her nostrils, the rain intensifying the rancidness. “Where are you off to at such a late hour?”

She squirmed, determined to break free. She had to make that pasta, or worse things would happen to her. Or maybe this was the reprise Rian was wishing for. Maybe this man would end her life and none of her panic even mattered. No more Riley, no more pain, no more hurting. But that wasn’t an option. Rian may have been broken down by Riley, but she was still a fighter, and this wasn’t how she planned on dying.

The thug removed his hand from Rian’s mouth to pull the plastic bag from her hand, the bag containing the pasta sauce for Riley. Rian found her opportunity to scream, to beg someone for help. She screamed as loud as she could, her vocal cords straining against her throat as she tried to wiggle herself free.

The man tightened his grip on Rian’s waist, his hand inching lower and lower toward her pelvis. She kicked him again, and he finally released her. Rian fell to the ground with an unsuspecting thud, catching herself against the wet pavement with her hands. Her palms burned from the impact, but she forced herself up, trying desperately to stand.

Before she could get herself upright, she felt the man’s hands grab one of her legs to drag her back toward him. Rian kicked, cried out, squirmed around. Anything to get free. Her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. She had to get away.

She could hardly see the man in the dark, but she was kicking and struggling and doing anything she could to free herself.

In an instant his hands released her leg, and Rian took the opportunity to crawl away. She could hear grunting behind her, but the rain was too loud to make out what was happening. It sounded like fighting, as if someone had finally come to her rescue.

Rian didn’t glance back, instead making her escape. She ran as fast as she could in her heels in the direction of her apartment building, only stopping to catch her breath when she was safely inside the building with the door locked behind her.

Rian’s legs ached; her palms itched; and she could feel a migraine start to push against her skull. She gasped for breath, thoroughly grateful for her escape. That someone, or something, saved her. Maybe things would be okay.

As her heart began to settle, she remembered the pasta sauce. Still in its bag. Still in the alley. Panic began to rise in her chest. This wasn’t over.

Jason

“This’ll teach you to harass people, you old fuck.” Jason landed another punch to the degenerate as he struggled in Jason’s grasp. Jason had found him attacking some screaming woman while he was on his way home after leaving the Batcave. She was lucky he was too tired to patrol, or she would have been on her own. She was a fighter though, he saw her kicking and screaming at her assailant.

She crawled away before Jason could help her, but that was probably for the best. He didn’t have it in him to comfort another distraught Gothamite. He just wanted to change out of his wet clothes and take a hot shower.

As Jason left the man unconscious and handcuffed in the alley, tagged with a tracker for Tim and Dick to pick up on their way through, his mind wandered to Rachel. What if something like this happened to her? Or one of her friends? Would he be there to help them? And what if he was too late?

Jason shook his head. This was another reason he couldn’t get too close to people. Gotham was a dangerous city, and almost every citizen had their run-in with a criminal or two. Some lived to see another day, and some did not. He couldn’t worry about protecting everyone he cared about; there were more important things happening.

Jason grappled to the top of a nearby building, removing his helmet to let the rain wash away the sweat and stress from the past few hours. The meeting with Bruce had been too long. There were no viable ways to prevent the drugs from entering the city, and Bruce wouldn’t allow any of the boys to involve themselves until he had a solid plan with reliable back-up. But they were running out of time. By tomorrow, the drugs could already be in the city. The weight of that realization settled unpleasantly on Jason’s shoulders, making it hard for him to focus on anything else.

He was about to run toward the next rooftop, two blocks from his apartment, when slight movement under one of the streetlights below caught his attention. He pulled his helmet back on, cursing whoever it was walking through the streets. He didn’t have it in him for another attack. Maybe he would leave this one to Dick when he finally arrived to pick up the unconscious thug.

He peered over the edge of the building, watching in disbelief as a small figure tentatively peeked into the alley he had just vacated. He instantly recognized her as the same woman who was being attacked moments before.

The woman used her phone flashlight as she carefully stepped back into the alley. She didn’t appear to realize her assailant was slumped against the wall near her, unconscious thanks to the Red Hood. When the woman stumbled on a plastic bag, she crouched down. Jason watched curiously as she opened the wet bag. He used his helmet to zoom in on her, his night vision allowing him to see almost perfectly in the dark.

She pulled out a shard of broken glass covered in a dark, thick liquid. He saw her hands trembling as she dropped the shard, bringing one hand to her face as she backed away from the scene. She stumbled out of the alley, now illuminated by the streetlight as she stuck her wet hands deep into the pockets of her brown leather jacket.

Jason recognized that jacket, and taking another look at her, recognized her jeans and boots too. He studied the top of her head, realizing it was the same head of dark (now very wet) hair that occupied the seat next to him.

It was Rian.

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planetsam · 5 years

Note

I have fallen head over heels for your writing. Just wow. If you’re still accepting requests, anything romantic Max and Liz please?

When he comes out of the pod, the entire world has changed.

But everyone’s still pissed off at him, so at least that’s the same.

Looking back now he has no idea what was wrong with him. He’s a cop in New Mexico. He’s been through so much training about abuse of power. He’s sworn again and again he wouldn’t be that kind of cop. There’s an explanation, something about the power transfer but all Max can see are the consequences of his actions. He can feel them too, a dark knot that radiates out with the pain he caused. Michael, once again, is left to shoulder the burden of his stupidity. He never wanted that. And Liz—God. Liz can barely even look at him. Michael and her are friends, he was so excited that they were friends. Now they are friends and they are both happy he’s alive and want nothing to do with him.

The only moment of peace he can place between ending Noah and giving his life was with Liz. He wants to go back to that moment with everything in him. Sex, yes, but more specifically he wants to go back to the moment after when he had his head against the flat of her belly and she was talking and he could feel it in his cheek. He wants to go back to the sun streaming in and her fingers running up and down the back of his neck. Now Liz avoids him like the plague and every moment she is near, her arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She told him not to let her go so easily, but if she’s done with him, he has no idea how to fix it.

When he sees her walking down the street, he parks the car and decides to risk it.

“Liz,” her hands cross tightly around herself before she turns. She’s wearing some kind of billowy sundress and a pair of cowboy boots and something in him twists viciously with longing, “can I—“ he trails off when he sees tear tracks on her face, “are you okay?”

“No, Max, I’m not okay,” she says and he knows it’s entirely his fault, “I have to go.”

“Wait, please—“

She quickens her pace which would be adorable if she wasn’t so upset. He wants nothing more than to hold her but he has a feeling she will kill him all over again. She walks quickly and he has no choice but to talk as she walks. And hope they are far enough from her destination he can explain himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to lie. I was going to tell you about Rosa but—“

“I don’t need an explanation from you,” she snaps, “there’s always a ‘but’ or a reason, it doesn’t change what you did.”

His list of crimes is long, even for a 2 day period. He knows that. And the six months he’s been in that pod is six months he could have spent making this up to them. To everyone. Now he’s back at square one. Worse than that actually and rightfully so. Liz stops so shortly that he almost crashes right into her. One arm stays tightly around herself as she jams her finger into his chest.

“You made these choices and you didn’t think for a second about anyone but yourself.”

“Hey—“ he starts to object.

“You were selfish!” She says and her voice pitches, “you left all of us here alone so you could play hero. I felt you die Max. I felt that and so did Michael.”

Something in his chest gives out. Dying isn’t a nice feeling. He knows that. Liz doesn’t remember dying because she didn’t. He caught her just before. But he now knows and forcing himself to leave this life wasn’t something he wants to do again. Somewhere he knows that Liz and Michael were connected to him, that the felt it too. But it hasn’t been in the forefront of his mind. They had every right to be mad even before he knew that. Now the pained look Liz gives him is even more understandable. She steps back.

“Just please leave me alone,” she says crosses her arms over herself.

He lowers his hand as she hurries over to her car. He needs to rethink this and how he’s going to go about this when he hears the sound of her being sick. Despite his earlier promise and the accusations, he can’t just leave her there being sick. He ducks into the nearest shop and comes out with a bottle of water and approaches the car. She’s sitting in the driver’s seat with the door opened and her head between her legs. She barely glances up at the sight of him but holds out her hand for the water bottle. She rinses out her mouth and stays doubled over.

“Liz?”

“I told you to leave me alone,” she says.

“I can’t,” he protests, “not if you’re sick. I get that you want nothing to do with me but I can’t just stand by—“ he trails off, “I can’t watch you suffer.”

“You shouldn’t have sacrificed yourself then,” she shoots back.

“You’re right,” he says. She gives him a hard look and he pushes on, “I shouldn’t have done it. All I could think about was giving you your sister back. I didn’t think about anything else.”

“I needed you, Max,” she snaps at him. Shit, she’s crying again, “I needed you and you were in that pod where my sister was. Both of you were there and—and—“ she hiccups and her hand finally leaves her stomach to grope for him.

Max sprints around the car and Liz barrels into him. It’s more than he deserves, more than he could ever hope to deserve as she buries her face in his chest and sobs. Her hands fist in his flannel and he gathers her as close as he possibly can. It’s not enough, It will never be enough, but pressed tightly together he will take what he can get. She must weep six months worth of tears against his shirt and Max feels each one like a brand. He holds her tightly and tries to commit the moment to memory, not knowing when he’ll get this chance. Or if he ever will. Even when she stops sobbing, she doesn’t move and the just hold each other. Eventually though she shifts slightly.

“Sorry, your belt—“

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he didn’t realize how tightly he was holding her. She shakes her head against his sternum, “am I squishing you?” She shakes her head, “Liz?”

“Focus,” she says into his shirt.

The air is gone. They’re pressed close together. He’s very familiar with Liz’s body. And he would never say anything. He flashes back to every interaction, a hundred puzzle pieces he didn’t see before falling into place. Her arms wrapped around herself, constantly stepping back and avoiding him. He would understand if this was about her protecting herself. Truly he would.

But it’s not.

Sex ed flashes through his mind and he remembers spending most of it doing his best not to look at Liz or blow the power from sheer humiliation. But he remembers the teacher explaining that it only took one time for someone to get pregnant. One time. He can’t breathe as Liz finally, finally looks up at him.

“Y—you’re—“

She nods.

He doesn’t even know what to call the sound that comes from him. Surprise flares on Liz’s face as he stares at her. At them. He can feel something pressing though the fabric of her sundress. Has she told anyone? Has she seen anyone? He’s spent his entire life trying to avoid going to hospitals and having doctors find out what he is. He owes Kyle a lot more than he thought. Guilt also churns. Liz has been dealing with this alone. She buries her face in his chest and hiccups.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he says, her anger suddenly making so much more sense.

“Good,” she sniffles, but doesn’t leave his arms, “you cannot keep up the lone cowboy thing. Especially not now.”

“No, never,” he says quickly, “does anyone else know?”

She shakes her head. He pulls back, just enough to finally look at her. His hands don’t leave her shoulders. There is something finally in her eyes that’s not disgust or sadness. Nothing looks different about her face or her arms or anything. He looks down past her chest but the sundress hides everything. Liz seems to know exactly what he’s doing. Because of course she does. Liz is brilliant.

“Do I look it?” she asks.

“No of course not,” he says instantly.

“Good answer,” she tells him and bunches the fabric of her dress in her hand, tugging it taut.

He sucks in a breath. There’s a curve to her abdomen that wasn’t there before. He looks at her and she gives a quick nod. His hand flattens over the fabric. He can’t believe she’s pregnant. That there’s a person in there he and Liz made. God he hopes they are more like their mom than him. He moves his hand to the other side. Liz frowns and reaches out, shifting his hand to a different spot. Max’s already shut down brain goes a whole new level of blank when he feels the baby kick insistently against his hand. His jaw drops.

“That’s–”

“Yep,” she says, “already dancing better than you.”

Oh God if it’s a girl, he is going to have to dance.

“I have 15 years to learn right?” he says.

For the first time since he got out of the pod, Liz laughs.

#max evans #liz ortecho #max x liz #roswell new mexico #roswell nm fanfic #honestly the head against the stomach thing probably means she's knocked up #lbr

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justlightlysedated · 6 years

Text

holding on to what we used to be (addicted to a memory)

for @michaels-blackhat, who asked for “heat”, “magic” and “proof,” so naturally, another the magicians au

The memories don’t come all at once, and some of them leave him paralyzed at the worst times.

But the worst thing about them isn’t what he remembers, it’s opening his eyes and seeing Michael sitting across the room from him and feeling for one hopeful second that maybe it’s his Michael, and then having that Monster, smile a smile that would’ve never found itself on Michael’s face, and Alex remembers.

***

Isobel is the only one who can confirm that Alex is telling the truth.

Letting her into his head is one of the hardest things that he’s ever had to do, especially with the fact that he remembers an infinite number of timelines where he fell in love with Michael, and he remembers vividly one specific timeline that went on for an entire lifetime, where they didn’t die young and tragic but old and happy.

Isobel tears through his head like a tornado, and Alex tries to keep a lid on things and only show her what she needs to see to believe him, but she blows pass every single one of his wards with ease once he lowers the shield a little bit.

Alex freezes for a long moment and sees Michael crystal clear wrinkles lining his face, greying hair still falling to curls on his forehead, and he’s laughing and looking at Alex, and Alex feels loved, loved, loved.

He pushes Isobel back and she disengages from his head with a snap and a pained gasp.

He slams his shields back up and scrambles away from her, climbing over the back of the couch.

“Alex!” she calls out to him.

Alex ignores her and leaves the room.

***

Alex dreams of heat.

Michael’s hands warm and damp wrapped around his wrists pressing him down to the bed, hot damp air against his neck as Michael presses his face into Alex’s throat, panting and gasping and groaning, Michael’s thighs pressed on either side of his hips, sliding across the sweaty skin, Michael hot and tight around as he moved his hips slowly, like they had all of the time in the world because they did.

Alex wakes up sweaty, and hard, and aching, and wanting, and he turns in his bed and grasps at the empty side of the bed where Michael should be, but is not because Alex was too late and ruined everything before it even began. He buries his head in his pillow and cries.

***

Alex sits on the floor with his back against the couch. He watches as the flames from the fire in the fireplace throws shadows all along the walls that seem to be dancing in tune to the music that is literally shaking the walls.

The shadows could be enchanted or it could be the brownies that Liz and Isobel had made together. Which was still odd.

Liz and Isobel getting along. They’d spent so long at each other’s throats over Rosa that Alex still didn’t know how to feel about this truce they’d struck up.

“Are you going to stay inside all night?” Michael asks from behind him.

Alex doesn’t jump since he’d sensed Michael in the room about five minutes ago, but he is surprised that Michael is talking to him.

It’s been two weeks since they expelled the Monster from his body, and Alex swore that he was avoiding him, but that might have to do with the fact that Alex was most definitely avoiding Michael.

“I was planning on going to get a refill,” Alex says making to stand, but suddenly there is a drink floating on a small tray in front of him. The ice has melted just a little bit, and the tray wobbles a little, but it makes Alex smile.

Michael had been terrified of using his magic since before the Monster had taken him over.

He takes the drink gratefully, and feels Michael hopping over the side arm of the couch and sitting down. He leans down, resting his elbow right beside Alex’s head and tilts his drink to Alex’s.

“To surviving,” Michael says and taps their glasses together.

Alex taps his back to Michael’s. “To surviving.”

***

“Are you going to keep pretending that you don’t want me?” Michael asks and Alex almost trips and falls down the side of the river and into the rushing water.

They’ve been on this quest for three days now, and they still haven’t found the place where they’re supposed to be building the mosaic to find the key.

“I don’t-” he tries to say, but Michael makes a rude noise at the back of his throat and tugs Alex away from the edge of the river and right up against a nearby tree.

Alex feels the rough bark against his back, and Michael presses in close stopping inches away from his mouth.

“It would make this thing go by much faster if you just give in now, but I know you’re scared, so I’m willing to wait, but you do realize that this has been the longest amount of time we have spent alone together since you woke up naked in my bed?”

Alex swallows hard.

“It’s kind of driving me crazy,” Michael admits voice low.

***

They have a plan, made by a still feuding Liz and Isobel, but they’d put aside their differences and grudges to help Alex kill the Monster using Michael’s body as his personal meat suit.

It’s been days since the Monster admitted that Michael was no longer alive in there, and Alex still can’t bring himself to look at it in the face.

The plan is simple. The Monster loves to play with Alex, probably because of the excruciating face that Alex makes whenever he’s reminded that this isn’t Michael, and Alex sometimes enables it because he’d prefer the Monster to be fixated on him than tearing apart through an entire city block’s worth of people.

Maria and the Monster appear together and she looks a little worse for wear, but she gives Alex a smile when he looks at her.

The Monster smiles when it sees Alex and lets go of Maria to saunter forward.

“Alex!” it exclaims happily, and it makes Alex’s fingers twitch.

He really doesn't want to be doing this.

***

Isobel corners him in the kitchen only five hours after she kicked open the door inside of his head and rummaged through his underwear drawer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks voice smooth, but Alex can just make out a tremor in her fist.

She doesn’t like being left out of things.

Especially if those things involved Michael or Max.

“Because it wasn’t any of your business,” Alex says setting down the bowl of cereal he’d just served himself on the counter.

“It’s Michael,” she says giving him an incredulous look. “So it’s definitely my business.”

“Not about this,” Alex says firmly. “And besides it’s not like he knows.”

Isobel immediately deflates blinking at him several times before she gives him a disbelieving look.

“So, you mean to say that you remember all of the timelines we lived through where you’ve fallen in love with Michael and he with you, and you vaguely remember the night you guys had sex in this one that you used as an excuse to push him away, and,” she continues, moving closer to Alex until she has him trapped against the kitchen counter. “You remember an entire lifetime you technically didn’t live through where you live happily ever after, and you still didn’t put him out of his misery?”

Alex blinks at her before he very gently pushes her back so that he can breathe without inhaling her ridiculously expensive perfume.

“He knows about the lifetime in another time one,” Alex says slowly. “But not the others, and it’s not like it actually matters. When those memories came back to us, I wanted to stop running, but he didn’t want me.”

Isobel looks at him intently, eyes darting between his as if trying to see how serious he is without actually reading his mind. He can feel the slight pressure of her presence at his shields, but that’s a thing that always happens while talking to Isobel.

“That idiot,” she says so vehemently that Alex jumps. “We are getting that Thing out of him and then I am going to murder him for being an absolute bonehead.”

***

The Thing wearing Michael’s face tilts his blood splattered face in Alex’s direction and gives him a cruel smile.

“There’s nothing to give back,” it says and the words chill Alex to the bone.

“Nothing?” he questions dreading the answer.

The smile turns a bit more childish. “Yes. I’m all alone in here. It’s pretty roomy.”

“So Michael is-?” Alex starts slowly feeling as though the entire world is slowing to a stop.

“Dead? Yes,” it says and laughs and laughs and then grabs Alex’s hand.

“Come on,” it says smiling at Alex with Michael’s eyes, eyes that Alex will never see again light up full of love in his direction. “Let’s go play.”

***

Alex looks at the letter in his hands curiously and then at Michael who is looking down at the bottle he’d just opened. The smell sharp and bitter with traces of fruit, reminding Alex of nail polish remover, but milder.

It’s the smell that’s the catalyst.

Alex stumbles, and Michael helps him sit back down on the steps leading up to the thrones.

He barely feels it when Michael stumbles down to sit next to him.

He’s lost in the influx of memories, but he manages to integrate them faster than Michael does.

Probably because he has thirty-nine other timelines stuffed inside of his head.

He’s blinking his eyes rapidly as he looks down at the letter in his hands.

Michael inhales sharply, and laughs a little brokenly.

“So that-” he starts.

“-happened? Yeah,” Alex finishes looking at the paper in his hands.

“It was kind of-” Alex starts this time.

“-beautiful,” Michael says on a sigh before he laughs and this time it sounds more like a sob.

Alex feels startled and like Michael is remembering things that he’s not, because everything that Alex can see, can feel tells him that he’s being an idiot. That he’s been an idiot. It doesn’t matter if he lost him thirty-nine times before except in this one timeline that he decided not to give them a chance, because obviously, they’re inevitable.

“So all it takes is to completely leave everything and everyone we know behind for you to actually give us a chance?” Michael says, and it’s obviously a rhetorical question, but Alex starts trying to answer.

“Don’t bother,” Michael says and stands up tossing the bottle aside.

It shatters with a crash, and it takes Alex back momentarily to Michael pressing him against the wall of the tiny kitchen in their tiny cabin, and he can’t seem to find leverage, and his hands are scrambling for purchase, and he topples over several bottles that crash on the floor and spill their contents, but neither of them is paying attention too lost in each other.

Alex gasps coming out of it, and looks at Michael who is watching him with glazed eyes, but once he’s out of it, he’s shaking his head and glaring.

“This is going to be even worse than it usually is,” he says sighing.

“What if it doesn’t have to be?” Alex blurts out standing up.

Michael turns to him and tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. Alex tries not to show how nervous he actually is right now, but Michael has fifty years worth of memories of Alex at the moment.

“What if you ask again, and I say yes,” Alex says taking a step forward.

Michael takes a step back and shakes his head.

“I don’t think so,” he says and Alex feels as though his heart stopped beating in his chest.

Michael scoffs as he takes one look at Alex’s face and turns around facing away from Alex.

“So I ask and you say yes, and then your father shows up and you pretend you don’t even know who I am or Kyle decides not to be an asshole this time and you go off with him wherever it is you go and do whatever it is that you do, I don’t care. You running away everytime I brought up the subject is the least of the reasons why we shouldn’t be together. Apparently, it only works if we don’t have any other choice.”

Alex blinks fast and feels the tears wetting his lashes, and he turns away from Michael, pressing a hand over his mouth.

He inhales shakily and nods his head. “Okay, sorry I brought it up.”

He hears Michael move, hears him move closer, and then he’s making a rude sound with his mouth and walking away.

Alex exhales shakily shutting his eyes tight and lets the tears fall down his cheeks.

***

“I don’t believe you,” Max’s voice comes out of the darkness making Alex jump and place a hand over his heart.

Alex tries to figure out what Max could possibly be talking about since he doesn’t trust Alex at all about anything, but he doesn’t have to try too hard. There is only one thing that he could be talking about.

“You believed me easily enough when I told you he was dead,” Alex says and he tries not to sound accusing, but he can’t really help it.

Max gives him a look meant to quell him into submission but it does the same thing to Alex that it does to Michael, make him want to punch Max in the face.

“You already know that possession is Absolute,” Max starts and he has his lecturing tone on, and Alex can just barely resist the urge to groan out loud.

Max stops as soon as he sees Alex’s expression and clears his throat. “The Monster enjoys toying with you. How are you so sure that this isn’t another one of his games?”

“Because I know, Michael,” Alex responds hotly.

Max scoffs, “Not anymore than Isobel or me.”

Alex feels anger boiling in his veins and the clouds outside start to gather dark and heavy, rolling with thunder.

Max casts an apprehensive look towards the windows, but he doesn’t back down.

“Fine,” Alex says and a flash of lightning illuminates the world before the clouds disperse rapidly leaving behind the clear blue sky once again. “Get Isobel. We’re doing this right now.”

***

Alex shudders as he comes out of another memory involving Michael and opens his eyes to see that while he’d been out of it, the Monster had noticed.

It was standing way too close, eyes too detached and still they were Michael’s eyes.

Something shifted in them and before Alex could stop it, their mouths were pressed together.

Alex’s breathing hitched, and something painful and sharp lodged in his throat.

He exhales shakily and the Monster pulls away tilting its head shrugging. “I don’t see the appeal.”

It’s gone before Alex can do or say anything.

***

Alex lasts all of three weeks.

Which he thinks is admirable in the face of the fact that Michael spent 99.9% of the time wearing his shirt like a rag around his collar.

Michael also spent that time giving Alex looks from beneath his curls hanging in his face, and Alex spent at least 99.9% of the time asking himself why this was a bad idea again.

Three weeks and what breaks him isn’t even that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.

He knows that he’s been skittish around Michael since he woke up naked in his bed, and he knows that skittish is the mildest way that he could possibly put that. Especially given the fact that their group of Beast Slaying, World Saving, Questing to Bring Magic Back, friends is practically inseparable.

And he knows that Michael knows that his leg bothers him at nights, especially given the fact that they share a bed.

Michael pressing the salve that he’d made by hand to soothe the ache into Alex’s hands one night was too much.

Alex was only human.

He drops the tin on the floor and it lands with a dull clang. Michael’s injured, “Hey-” he cuts off with his mouth, turning and pressing in close.

It’s almost like muscle memory. Alex doesn’t have to think too hard how to kiss Michael to get him to kiss him back.

He doesn’t have to try too hard either, since from the second their lips touch, Michael surges up, fingers tangling in Alex’s hair and he pulls Alex in close, biting against his mouth and kissing him hard and rough and like it’s been years.

Michael kisses him, pressing him back until Alex is the one pressed down against the scratchy wool sheets of their bed, and he gasps pulling away to breathe, panting into the air as Michael’s mouth drags across his chin and down his neck.

“Ask me,” Alex gasps as Michael bites into his neck.

Michael stops, mouth pressed against Alex’s throat, so still that it almost seems like he’s frozen instead of just not moving.

He pulls away a little and looks down at Alex, staring into his eyes.

He inhales deeply and leans down a little, “Do you-?”

Alex cuts him off.

“Yes,” he says and drags Michael back down on top of him by his hair.

***

The Monster takes another step towards Alex, and then it sways, almost like it’s going to faint, but catches itself immediately.

It looks at Alex, blinking rapidly, and Alex reaches out a hand. “Come on.”

The Monster smiles again, but there is something different about it that Alex can’t quite put his fingers on, but that makes his heart start racing.

“Alex,” it breathes, and it sounds reverent, and it’s eyes are shining with a depth of emotion that is confusing Alex.

He’s never seen anything but murderous glee in the Monster.

“Alex, it’s me, Michael.” It says, and Alex feels as though someone pressed a block of ice to the back of his neck.

“Stop playing around,” Alex says a little too sharply. “You promised no games.”

“No,” it says and steps forward fast, stopping Alex before he can back away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex can see Liz moving forward with the cup of their Monster Killing Potion in her hands.

“Alex,” it says putting his hands on Alex’s shoulders and then sliding them up to his neck, cupping his face in it’s hands, fingers pressed into his hair. “It’s me.”

Alex starts to tremble in it’s hold. He doesn’t know where it’s getting the idea to do these things from, but Alex hopes that when it dies it hurts like a motherfucker.

“I’m alive,” it says hurriedly, desperately and Alex stops trying to pull away. “And once you get this thing out of me. I will ask you again, do you understand me?”

Alex breath hitches and he looks into Michael’s eyes, and all he sees is love, love, love.

He gasps and his hands fly up to wrap around his wrists.

“Michael,” he breathes unable to actually believe it.

Michael smiles at him, and Alex can see what the difference is now. It’s love.

And then he’s swaying again, and Alex sees Liz getting ready to throw the potion.

“No!” he yells and pushes him out of the way.

Alex gets drenched in the potion. Michael stumbles back and Alex sees the moment It takes him over again, because It gives Alex an unreadable look at disappears.

Liz exhales harshly and Maria makes a restless noise.

“Now what?” Liz says.

“Michael’s alive,” Alex breathes, and refuses to think about anything else, even when the Monster reappears demanding an explanation.

***

Technically, as a First Year, Alex isn’t supposed to be greeting other First Years and showing them where to take the Test, but since he’s basically lived in the halls of Brakebills his whole life, he’d been sent down to gather their last straggler.

Alex leans against the sign at the entrance of the school and feels jittery with excitement and nerves.

This time he swore would be different.

And maybe, to make it really different he should’ve told the Dean to send someone else to get the last student, but every reset leaves him feeling like he hasn’t seen his friends in years, and Michael is the one that he misses the most.

He squints his eyes looking in the direction that he knows Michael will be walking in, and spots him almost as soon as he starts searching.

The smile that breaks out on his face is wild and uncontrollable.

He’s able to tamp it down by the time Michael makes it to him, eyes wide with wonder, but full of skepticism.

Just like always.

“Michael Guerin,” he says not looking at the card with Michael’s name on it but tossing it aside.

Michael’s eyes go to him, and they widen a little as he takes Alex in from head to foot.

It always leaves him tingling, feeling that stare on him for the first time.

But he swore this time was going to be different.

“Yeah,” Michael finally says taking his eyes off Alex and looking around the campus and then back to Alex as though he’s the most interesting thing in the place, and not the fact that he stumbled down a dark alley in New York and ended up here in the bright field of a University Campus. “And who are you?”

Alex can’t help the smile at the flirtatious sound of Michael’s words. “Alex,” he says, and then bites his lip before turning and walking.

He’s almost halfway there when he turns to see that Michael hasn’t moved, watching Alex walk away.

Predictable.

“Come on, you’re already making us late.”

Michael tilts his head at him, and then runs after him.

Alex turns back around and keeps walking sure that Michael is going to be following him.

***

After giving everyone a stone to place right in front of them, Isobel turns to Alex.

“You’re going to have to be very careful,” she starts once again as though they haven’t explained how the spell is going to work a million times already. Alex just wants to hurry up and try and get this over with.

“I know,” he cuts her off.

Isobel gives him an insolent look. “You have the most memories of Michael out of all of us.”

Max makes a protesting noise, but everyone ignores him.

“And you were the one to bond the most with the Monster,” she continues. “It’s going to pull on you the hardest, you have to resist it.”

“I know,” Alex says again this time looking at Isobel intently. “I know the risks. We went over everything. I know what I have to do. I’m not going to mess this up, okay? I want him back just as much as you.”

Isobel looks at him back with intense eye contact and then nods her head slowly.

“Let’s do this,” she says.

They’d practiced this several times already so it’s pretty easy to do the movements seamlessly and mostly in sync. The tricky part comes when they all clasp hands completing the circle and their stones glow in front of them.

The Monster isn’t happy.

Michael’s powers go haywire, but they’d planned for this.

Max’s shield holds up really well, even though most of his energy is concentrated in the spell.

Alex watches Michael’s body twitching like he’s in the middle of a seizure and he wishes that he could cross into the circle and help him deal with this.

Until then, the pull of the spell hadn’t been all that difficult.

Hard, yes, but not anything that Alex couldn’t handle.

He vaguely remembers Isobel telling him that they needed to keep their thoughts as clear as possible, that Michael would be doing most of the work, but emotions always made things more difficult.

Alex feels it when the spell latches on to him, and feels it when it lets go of everyone else.

“No!” Liz yells since she and Isobel are the only two that really know what’s happening.

Isobel yells that they have to keep the circle intact, and yells that Alex has to let go.

Alex can barely hear her. He can’t even see her.

He’s in a dark room, surrounded by mist and wind is whipping everywhere.

There is a loud unearthly sounding roar and then he hears Michael’s voice yelling.

“Go away!”

Alex feels his heart thudding in his throat and he stumbles towards it.

He stumbles and suddenly the darkness lifts and the mist disperses and there is Michael.

Michael’s eyes widen when he sees him. “Alex,” he says sounding shocked and dismayed.

Before Alex can say anything he’s surrounded by darkness.

He hears Michael yelling from far away.

“I know you wanted to save him, but you don’t have to hurt me to do it.”

“You shouldn’t have lied to me then,” Alex snaps back.

There is cold laughter, and Alex feels icy frostbite trailing down his spine.

“How about this? I’ll leave like he wants me to, but only if you make room for me inside your head.”

“Only if you promise that you won’t hurt any of my friends, and that we’ll go very far away from them.”

“You have to say the magic words.”

Suddenly the cold and the darkness is gone, and Alex sways but Michael catches him.

“Leave him alone,” he says voice echoing with power and golden and so pure and warm that it makes the breath catch in Alex’s lungs. “And get out of my head!”

Alex is thrown back into his body with what feels like a physical slam, he rocks back hard, and is only kept from falling backwards by Liz and Maria’s deathgrip on his fingers.

He’s shuddering and he opens his eyes, blinking rapidly, feeling like he’d been floating in the Arctic Ocean.

The stones in front of everyone shine brightly and then burst into sparks and crystals so small they disintegrate immediately.

As quickly as it all began it stops, and Michael just lies there in the middle of the circle so still that it almost seems like he’s-

Alex gasps again, still trembling, fingers gripping Maria and Liz tightly. Isobel is looking at him from across the circle with a furious expression, but he knows it’s only so that she doesn’t look at Michael’s too still body.

Max inhales to speak, but then grunts softly in pain and doesn’t say anything.

Alex’s eyes drop from Isobel back to Michael and he wants to move and check and make sure but he can’t, can’t, can’t.

He can’t bury Michael again. He won’t be able to handle it.

Just then, Michael gasps, sitting up suddenly, eyes wide open, and then he drops back on the floor, breathing rapidly, making little gasping sounds like he’s not sure how to make his lungs work.

Isobel is the first one moving, tearing her hands from Maria and Max and crawling across the floor and lying on top of Michael.

Max moves more cautiously, and it’s only when Michael puts his hand on Isobel’s head and gently moves his fingers through her hair that he moves and collapses on Michael’s other side.

Liz and Maria move close to each other, smiling and hugging.

Alex slumps down on the floor, pressing his face to the ground, feeling tired and exhausted and relieved. He turns his face to watch, because he doesn’t want to take his eyes off Michael, and isn’t entirely surprised to see Michael staring right back at him.

***

The Monster tilts its head in Alex’s direction, and rolls its eyes when Alex refuses to look at it.

“Why did it matter anyway? So I lied. It’s not like you haven’t lied to me.”

Alex’s eyes finally snap to it. “It’s not the same thing.”

It rolls its eyes again and looks at Alex with a sneer. “He tried to kill me. Of course I lied. I want him dead.”

Alex’s eyes flash and he takes an involuntary step forward. “You better not do anything to harm him.”

“Or what?” it says in amusement looking at Alex like one might look at a child.

“Or I’ll make sure that you live out the rest of your days in neverending torment.”

The Monster tilts its head considering. “Why is he so important to you?”

Alex swallows down the first words that pop into his head because those words he’s saving for Michael.

He looks at the Monster in the eyes, and it hurts to know that Michael is somewhere in there unable to look back. “Because he is. And there isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do to keep him safe.”

The Monster yawns in his face. “Bo-ring.” And then it’s gone.

Alex lets out a breath and looks up straight into Maria’s eyes who is looking at him like she’s finally figured out what’s been bothering her about him for years.

“What?” he asks feeling self conscious.

She just shakes her head and leaves the room.

***

What Alex is remembers is this:

Michael cheeks flushed and warm, gazing at Alex from way too close.

Isobel is asleep right next to him, and one of Michael's legs is thrown over his and they're laughing and there is wine and Alex is feeling very loose and fuck, he’s horny, and he knows that Michael would scratch that itch so well. He has memories upon memories upon memories.

And he remembers what happens this night, always in snatches of colors, and skin, and sweat, and heat.

He licks his lips. He can just barely taste Michael’s skin on his tongue.

“Alex,” Michael says voice low and throaty, and Alex’s eyes fall to him, and he sees how Michael is watching him, and feels it hit him in the stomach like a two by four.

This was the reason why he’d asked Isobel to join them today. Because he’d hoped that she’d be able to put a buffer between him and Michael.

But no, she was asleep, and Michael was looking at him with those eyes that said that he wanted to eat Alex alive, and Alex really, really, really wanted to let him.

The last thing Alex remembers clearly is saying that he needs to go to bed.

Everything else is the same as always.

Michael pushing him into his closed door, his head knocking back against the wooden frame. Michael’s hands hot and damp and tight around his wrists. Michael biting kisses down Alex’s neck, leaving behind bright blooms of pain. Michael’s mouth sucking a bruise into the crease of his groin before sliding his mouth hot and wet to the base of Alex’s cock. Michael pressed in close, over him, under him, inside of him, surrounding him, overwhelming and hot and real and so easy.

The next clear thought he has is waking up with Michael pressed close in front of him, and he remembers watching him sleeping, before he’d slipped away from the bed determined not to become the thing that made Michael lose focus and get himself killed.

***

A couple more drinks and Michael is sitting beside Alex, thighs pressed together, one arm pressed along the back of the couch behind Alex, the other holding his drink in the air as he gesticulates as he tells Alex an outrageous story that Alex has heard maybe five times before, but he loves the way that Michael gets excited when he tells it.

Michael stops abruptly in the middle of a sentence, and Alex blinks and tries not to look like he’d just been staring at him.

Michael sets his drink down on the floor beside himself and looks at Alex.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Michael says. Alex opens his mouth to speak, but Michael holds his hand up. “Let me finish.”

Alex just nods his head slowly.

“It’s not like it’s a new thing. You avoiding me,” he continues, and Alex bites down on his lip so that he doesn’t say anything. “But you had a much better reason this time, so I let it slide.”

Alex huffs out a breath.

“And we’ve been trying to save the world, again, and that comes first.”

The laugh is more apparent this time, and he feels Michael move his arm closer, pressing his forearm to Alex’s neck.

“But there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he says and Alex’s entire world slows to a stop.

He looks at Michael, and nothing else exists.

He watches all of the pain and hurt and caring and kinship and love, love, love that is shining in Michael’s eyes as he looks at Alex, lips parted trying to form the question that he keeps asking and Alex keeps running away from.

Alex knows that Michael feels that the ball is in his court since he was the one to reject Alex before.

But Alex, Alex doesn’t care, not when Michael is still looking at him like he’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen in a world where magic exists.

“Do you want me, Guerin?” he asks voice low and as seductive as he can manage.

It most definitely works since Michael’s mouth drops, and the emotions in his eyes are leached away until only desire and lust remain.

But Alex still isn’t done. He remembers Michael’s words just like it was yesterday.

“Do you want to date me? To be my boyfriend, my lover, my everything. I feel like the whole world was frozen until you breathed fire into me. So tell me, do you want me?”

“Alex,” Michael says voice hushed and hoarse.

Alex licks his lips. “I should’ve said yes then, but I was so scared of losing you.”

Michael leans in pressing their foreheads together. “I should’ve asked you after we remembered, but I was scared too, that you would change your mind.”

“Never,” Alex says shaking his head and closing his eyes.

He feels Michael’s fingers on his face, tilting his chin slightly, and Alex gasps, eyes opening as he watches Michael’s shut as he leans in closer.

Their lips brush, once lightly, and then someone drops to the couch behind them.

“Gross,” Max says as he wraps an arm around Michael and tugs him away from Alex.

“You’ve been hogging the Guest of Honor,” Isobel says pushing Alex until she can slide in between them and lie back on Michael’s shoulder, throwing her legs over Alex’s lap.

Michael looks at him, and Alex just smiles fondly and leans back against Max’s leg, wrapping his hand around Isobel’s ankle and listening to her talk about Liz and Maria being wet blankets and going to sleep early.

He watches Michael and Max talking softly to one another, and closes his eyes feeling for the first time in what feels like forever, content, and happy, and safe.

#malex #malex fic #rnm #me: still hasn't seen the magicians #also me: continues to write malex aus for it #so sorry i butchered anything too bad beyond recognition #but in my defense i was left alone and unsupervised

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we-pay-for-everything · 5 years

Note

Reading some of your anon's about B99 the lack of empathy for Amy is worrying. Not talking about it more before is silly from the show and should have been done better but to analyse the rest we have to accept she thought they were on the same page. All Amy did was clearly state that she wouldn't accept Jake's indecision on this issue (Jake was trying to push it away but Amy is right they don't have time). Asking someone to wait on this for an unknown time is not a fair option (1/4)

Amy did more than tell Jake she wouldn’t accept his indecision. Amy’s feelings and wants are as valid and as important as Jake’s. The issue with the episode is how Amy chose to handle that situation, and how the narrative is clearly more on her side than Jake’s.

Having kids is a big decision but it’s more important to be ready to have kids than to choose to have them. Amy wants kids. Fine. She should have them if she knows she’ll do a good job. Having kids because your partner wants them, even if you don’t, is the reason why many parents are so crappy. I’m on Jake’s side because his decision is actually more important. If Amy doesn’t have kids, she might suffer. If Jake has kids he isn’t sure he wants, the kid and Jake might suffer. The hypothetical future child’s needs are more important.

Amy didn’t just ask for Jake to make a decision. She didn’t just say “Share your thoughts on this with me. Let’s work it out.”. She forced him into a debate with other people, knowing she’s a better debater so she’d probably win. The idea of winning a debate against your partner on the topic of birthing actual human beings is beyond comprehension. It’s like Jake deciding to debate with Amy on whether or not she should have an abortion. Amy’s body, Amy’s decision. But Jake’s sperm, Jake’s decision too. Furthermore, Amy got a whole bunch of people involved in a very private matter. Jake was clearly uncomfortable and out of his element, and Amy ignored that.

I also didn’t like that Rose was immediately on Amy’s side, without hearing the whole story. Like I said, the narrative was pushing Amy’s agenda and pushing Jake to say yes to having children, and that is why people have little sympathy for Amy. Her feelings are valid, her actions are inappropriate. She got all the sympathy in the world from Rosa and the writers.

Also, in this case, I, and many other women and men, relate more to Jake than Amy. Jake was the one to “give in”, and I, for one, feel like that was a loss to anyone who is, understandably, afraid of being a bad parent, yet chooses to be one because “it’ll probably be fine; no one knows what they’re doing anyway.”.

The most important decision most women will make for her life/body is whether she will have a child and that decision should not be made for her by someone else’s indecision (including her partners) or vague hope of one day. Jake has valid fears but so does Amy (which no-one appears to care about). Some of the reaction may be because Tumblr mainly consists of women about 20 with no experience of the scary/unfair nature of fertility in your 30s (2/4)

Yes, you do have a point that I have no experience with fertility issues. I don’t even want biological children. But I don’t think the fans want Amy to not have children so she can stay with Jake. I don’t want that.

The episode was set up in a way that only one outcome was possible: Amy doesn’t have children, and it sucks for her (fans would be very sympathetic in this scenario), or Jake has children, and it’s potentially bad for him and his kids (this is what happened, so people are on Jake’s side). Amy was never going to leave Jake, which would have happened had he chosen not to have children, so Amy was obviously always going to win that argument. But this isn’t the type of argument you should win. It shouldn’t be an argument at all, really.

Some also still appear to have fairly immature notions of healthy romantic love that includes being willing to subvert all individual needs/goals for the other. Kids is the deal-breaker issue because there is almost no way to proceed in a healthy way if one person is going against what they want. Amy didn’t threaten divorce (hell she was arranging Waterpark trips) but outlined a scenario that could lead to her having to start over in 2 years - a realistic one Jake needed to be aware of (¾).

The problem is that Jake is kind of pushed to make a life changing decision in a heartbeat, so he is, partially at the very least, subverting his individual needs for Amy’s. You have a good point about Amy, but did she go about it the right way? Amy was blindsided, but so was Jake. Amy casually mentioning their marriage would end if Jake didn’t want children was not okay. If only she had given him some time to think things over before saying something that would sway his thought process so much… It sounded a bit like an ultimatum. Would Jake have chosen to have kids had Amy not told him she would divorce him if he chose not to? We don’t know. That’s the problem.

Jake has valid fears but also has a wife who deserves an answer (including if its no). Fertility is such an important feminist issue - its not equal between sexes. Between myself/friends I have seen many with partners who don’t understand the reality of how being with a woman in her 30s means you don’t get to be indecisive on kids (like she can’t). The episode premise has some problems but Amy standing firm on this issue and the unfair reality of her biology was actually very important (4/4).

Yes, Amy sticking to her decision is important. Her behavior, as I said before, is not. Between the way she treats Jake, and the obvious set-up of the episode, it’s hard to care about Amy’s decision. She “won” anyway.

Thanks for the feedback. I think this episode was very personal to you, and I appreciate you voicing your thoughts so politely. However, the episode was also very personal to me, so I have plenty of thoughts too.

Oh, also, I want to add that Jake made his decision under stressful conditions. Firstly, Amy told him she’d maybe divorce him if he chose not to have kids; secondly, Amy forced Jake to debate her in front of other people, putting him on the stop, and bringing up painful issues about Jake’s dad; and thirdly, he went through a life-threatening experience, thinking he might die. Jake made a huge decision at the end of a highly traumatic episode, which really doesn’t make Amy look good...

#ask #b99 #peraltiago #jake peralta #amy santiago #thanks #Anonymous

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dontjudgemepeepswrites · 5 years

Text

April 1st

y/n - your name

y/n/n - your nickname

y/s/n - your surname

y/f/n - your full name

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

I wake up to the sound of my alarm. Wait, my alarm? I don't use an alarm. Why is my-- Jake. It's April 1st. One of the few holidays that Jake likes and partakes in.

"Rise and shine, sunshine. We have a long day planned! We're going to prank all of my co-workers!" an excited Jake Peralta says from beside me.

"Even Rosa?" I ask, smirking.

"Are you insane? Of course not Rosa. I'd be dead in 2 seconds flat."

"Mhm, and how long have you been awake, exactly?"

"2 hours."

"Babe."

"Yeah?"

"It's 3am. You've been up since 1?!"

"... maybe. Now get up, please. I'll make you breakfast." After hearing this, I shoot out of bed, taking it more as a threat since you shouldn't even trust Jake with cereal.

"No, I got it. Don't go near food. At all. And if you really want to prank your co-workers, I have a few ideas."

"Ooh, pray tell."

"Na ah ah. Get your own pranks."

"It's on, y/s/n. But can you give me one? Please?"

"Fine. Replace the cream in the oreos with toothpaste."

"That's an amazing idea. Now do we have any oreos?"

"Cupboard in the corner," I mumble tiredly.

"Thanks." He opens the cupboard and fake snakes jump out. He squeals like a 4 year old girl and jumps back in terror.

"Happy April fools day, bitch."

"I'm gonna get you so good, y/s/n."

"I'd like to see you try. In high school I was voted ruler of pranks."

"Is bad that that turned me on a bit?"

"You tell me," I whisper seductively, in order to get a reaction out of him. I then leave, my now ready bowl of cereal in my hand.

"Sometimes I hate you, y/n."

"No you don't."

"You're right, I don't."

"That's what I thought." Jake tries to sit next to me but I stop him. "You can't sit with us."

"Actually, Megan, I can't sit anywhere. I have hemroids."

"Did you just--"

"Yup."

"No sex for you for the next year then."

"What. No."

"Then take it back."

"Fine. I take it back." As he says that, I get a text. "Who's that?"

"My friend, Kane. He lives in England so he's like 5 hours ahead of us."

"Prove it." I roll my eyes but show him anyway. It's a good thing I planned this.

"Hey y/n, I know it's early there but I just wanted to say, text me when you can. I need to ask you something urgent. It's about Linda," he reads. "Who's Linda?"

"His daughter. He doesn't know anything about girls and she's 13, so."

"Oh, ok."

"I'm gonna go give him a call." What he doesn't know, however, is that Rosa is Kane and Linda was a signal. She's at the precinct. I've managed to get everyone on board with my plan for today. Except Charles. I'm not telling him.

"Fine. But leave the door open."

"You really wanna hear about girl issues? And I wasn't asking your permission."

"Woah, woah, woah. What's with the sass?"

"I'm tired, sorry. I get sassy when I'm tired."

"Ok. And yeah, you're right. Close the door." Ha ha, sucker. I walk out and call 'Kane'.

"Hey Kane. My boyfriend woke me up so I thought we'd just talk now."

"The balloons, air horn and mouse are done. We're doing the photo copier now. Have you done the soap?"

"Yeah, of course."

"He's not gonna have any idea."

"No, for the millionth time, Linda can be in a relationship if she wants. It's not your choice."

"Good call, Peralta's probably listening."

"Yes. And are you running low on period pads? You always forget to buy them."

"He's probably gone now. You can stop."

"Yeah. Well, I'm gonna go now. Bye, Kane."

"Later y/n." I hang up and walk back inside, pretending to be frustrated.

"You ok, babe?" Jake asks.

"Kane can be frustrating. And by that, I mean extremely annoying."

"C'mere." Jake gestures for me to snuggle him, so I do.

"Thanks for being the best boyfriend, Jakey."

"It's no problem. Wanna have sex before we go to the precinct? We've got ages."

"Really, Jake? I was thinking we watch a few Die Hard movies."

"Both?"

"Sure."

*At the precinct*

Everything's set up.

"Morning all," Jake says, rather chirpily, carrying the 'oreos'.

"Let's see, Jake brought snacks in on April fools. And they're oreos. You put toothpaste in them, didn't you?" Amy deduces.

"What? No! I'll prove it. Hitchcock, Scully! I have oreos! You want some?" Before anyone could even say oreos, they were here and ate about half of the 'oreos'.

"Mmm. These are amazing."

"See, they're fine. Y'know what, I'll leave these here, take one if you want one."

"I don't trust you," Amy says again. She turns to me. "You have one, y/n. You live with him, and are his girlfriend. You'll know if something's up."

"Fine," I say and pick up the one closest to me, which just so happens to be the normal oreo I snuck in there before we left. Jake knew about this, but so do the rest if the precinct. I'm just leading him into a false sense of security. I eat it. "See. It's fine." Everyone knew before we arrived that they would have to eat one, so they all sucked up and ate one, knowing they would be disgusting as they contain toothpaste.

"You liars. I'm gonna kill you, Peralta," Rosa threatens.

"What about y/n?" he asks. I give him a glare for throwing me under the bus.

"You probably dragged them into doing it. They're off the hook. For now."

"What is happening? Everyone back to work. Now," Holt says, following the plan. Jake goes to his desk and plops down on his chair, triggering the air horn we attached to it, making him leap 6 feet into the air. Everyone bursts out laughing.

"Ha ha, very funny," he mocks, taking the air horn off the chair. Once he finally does that, he sits back down and tries to open a report he's working on. Key word: tries.

"What the neck? The cursor isn't moving. Is something wrong with the mouse? It was working yesterday." He picks up the mouse and turns it upside down and sighs. "Alright, who did this? Who put this paper that says 'lol u got trolled' in comic sans and has a picture of me making a stupid face on it on my sensor?" Everyone laughs again.

*later that day*

"Jake, can you interrogate this perp for me? I need to go help with an arrest and your better at interrogating than me. Oh, and while I'm out, can you photo copy this perp's case?" I ask.

"Sure."

"Thanks, I'll see you later," I say, giving him a goodbye kiss on the cheek.

"See ya, y/n."

He has no idea what he's in for. Instead of leaving, I go to the security office to watch everything from the camera. Jake takes the 'perp' (who is actually an actor I've paid) to the interrogation room and comes face to face with something he does not expect. "Crap. Someone ballooned the interrogation room. Well, it looks like you're going to stay in holding a little longer," he says to the perp. After the perp is back in the holding cell, I receive a call from Jake. I don't answer since I'm supposedly 'making an arrest'. "Hey, y/n. It's Jake. I'm having trouble interrogating the perp because someone ballooned the interrogation room. I'm just checking from the interconnecting room and yeah, I can't see anything. I'm just gonna photo copy that case. I'll call you again if there are any problems. Call me when you can." Oh my gosh, he fell for it. What we actually did, was we blew up enough balloons to make it look like the room was filled up, and then stuck them to the one way glass and door into the interrogation room. Smart, eh?

Jake grabs the file I left on his desk and goes to the photo copier. He doesn't focus on what he's doing, luckily, and grabs everything from the printer. When back at his desk, he doesn't check them again, luckily. You see, we left a picture of Taylor Swift in the photo copier, so everything that gets photocopied while the photo's there will have an imprint of Taylor Swift. He then carries on with his work. After I see this, I head out and grab him some candy, so his day isn't all bad. However, part of my considers making him a candy apple but instead, replacing the apple with an onion. I don't think I'll be that mean though. I walk back into the precinct with the candy.

"Hey, Jake. I got your message. Sorry for wasting your time then."

"Don't worry, y/n/n. Here are your files by the way."

"Thanks. In return I give you this candy."

"Thanks y/n/n, I'm so lucky to have you."

"Awww, you two are too cute," Charles fanboy(le)s.

"Thanks, Charles." I open up the photocopy and pretend to be shocked. "Um, Jake. Why is there an imprint of Taylor Swift on every page?"

"What?"

"Yeah, look here." I show him the file and he starts to freak out.

"What? Why are there so many pranks today?!"

"Jake, babe. It's fine."

"I'm gonna find them, and make them apologise."

"You've already found them," I reveal.

"What d'you mean?"

"Everything today has been us. And by us, I mean, I came up with all 4 ideas and Terry, Holt, Amy and Rosa helped execute them. I wasn't talking to Kane this morning; I was talking to Rosa."

"Oh. That makes so much more sense. But what about the interrogation room and photo copier?"

"It was a fake case. The 'perp' is actually an actor I hired."

"Oh. How long did the balloons take though?"

"Not long. Maybe 10 minutes."

"To fill the entire room?"

"No, you dingus. Follow me." I lead him to the interrogation room door and open it. "We covered the windows to make it easier for everyone to do and clear away. My pranks are easy to tidy up."

"You really are the ruler of pranks, y/n."

"Never doubt my power."

"This just adds to the huge list of why I love you. And it also makes me even more sure that I'm about to do the right thing."

"What?" I ask, confused. Then he gets down on one knee.

"y/f/n, I love you and I have and will for years. Today has been a rollercoaster but has overall made me even more proud to call you mine and now I want more. Will you do me the honour of marrying me?"

"Yes. A million and fourteen times yes! Of course I'll marry you!" I pull him into a long, passionate kiss. "We have to tell the others." We walk hand in hand to the bullpen.

"You two look happy. Did you meet Beyoncé?" Gina asks.

"No, we only got engaged," I say, brushing it off like it's nothing.

"Wait, what?" everyone in the precinct says simultaneously.

"Is this another prank?" Rosa asks.

"No. I'm gonna get married to the love of my life," I start welling up.

"Jake, why didn't you tell me? Why wasn't I there? I've been fantasising about it for forever!" Charles asks, quite upset.

"It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. I wanted it to be organic. Besides, I wanted to surprise my best man," Jake announces, smiling at Charles.

"Me? I'd be honoured. And Nikolaj could be the ring bearer!"

"Woah, woah, woah, slow down there Boyle. We got engaged a few minutes ago."

"Detective y/s/n, Detective Peralta, I'm happy for you. Take the rest of the day off." Holt says.

"Let's go shall we, fiancé?" Jake asks.

"We shall, fiancé."

Today has been the best day ever.

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

#jake peralta #jake peralta one shot #jakeperaltaoneshot #jake peralta imagine #jakeperaltaimagine #imagine #oneshot #xreader #b99 #brooklyn99 #brooklyn 99 #jakeperalta #jake peralta x reader #jakeperaltaxreader

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disruptedvice · 6 years

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Two wrongs don’t make a right (but a double negative does make an affirmative)

A fluff/humor Peraltiago get together one shot

That Monday was the slowest day at a police precinct since police were even invented. The slowest day in history for cops and criminals (no robbers to catch, no nothin'). The slowest day since police even started being a thing, according to Jake Peralta.

It was the most boring day at work he had ever had. And it wasn't just him that thought the day was boring. Everyone was bored. Terry, Charles, Rosa, Hitchcock, Scully, and even Santiago was bored. She loved boring stuff. She got excited by boring stuff.

But even that Monday was too boring for Santiago.

Just paperwork, and then when that ran out it was just sitting there. There wasn't even enough paperwork to go around.

Jake never understood minesweeper and just clicked around randomly to blow stuff up, and he never had a hope of getting down the rules of solitaire. Eventually he resorted to just doing that select slide blue square with his cursor on his desktop over and over again because he was that bored.

He was so bored he couldn't even find the will to entertain himself. He couldn't be bothered to even try. Boyle kept trying to show him funny videos on youtube, but Jake was too bored to even give them a chance and just groaned every time Charles made the trip between their desks until he just stopped trying.

It was that boring.

He wasn't even tired enough to fall asleep, but he wished he was. Sleeping at his desk would be way better than this drag. But he was too awake to even get in a quick snooze and it was killing him. All this nothing.

Amy loved boring tedious stuff, but that day was too boring to even catch Amy Santiago's interest. She looked just as dead and faded as everyone else and started drawing circles on a sheet of paper because there was no paperwork to fill out after so long in. Jake would kill for some paperwork because he wanted something to occupy him other than banging his head on the desk, cause that got old (and painful) after 60 seconds.

About half an hour after Jake got home from the gray hell of work he got a text.

Amy: Are you busy? Can we talk?

Jake: I'm free as can be. You wanna come over? Or meet up or something somewhere

Not a second after he sent the text there was a knock at his door and he opened it to find his partner standing on the other side.

"I was already in the elevator when I realized I probably should have checked if you were even home first so it would be a little less rude," she explained looking like a mix between apologetic and hesitant as he let her inside.

"Is everything okay?" He asked out of genuine concern. Amy didn't do stuff spring of the moment, and she never just popped in on people. She always gave advanced notice on any and everything, and she never stopped by anyone's place for a visit just because she happened to be in the neighborhood. So he assumed it must be bad for her to forget to warn him until she was already in the hallway of his apartment building. He was actually afraid that someone might have died, but she didn't look sad so he hoped it wasn't a death related house call.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to talk to you," she said with a half smile that made him doubt her reassurance. She took a deep breath before launching into what seemed to be a pre-planned opener into whatever she wanted to talk about.

"You know what, Jake? We're cops."

"Yeah, Ames. I know that."

"We could die tomorrow. We're always in mortal danger."

"I don't know where you're going with this..." he trailed off, half expecting her to go into an existential crisis of their chosen profession.

"I always think about what would happen if we go wrong and how that'll affect everyone we work with. But we could die literally any day. So screw everyone we work with, because if I die I want to have fucked you the night before. Or that morning. I put my life on the line and I've earned the right to be happy with you and not worry about everyone else being happy with us. But it's not like we know exactly when we're going to die, so we're just going to have to have sex on a regular basis. As in dating. You and me dating. Boyfriend girlfriend dating. This is me asking you out. If you want."

She realized that was pretty forward of her, but she decided that forward was what she needed to be. She needed to be forward and lay it all on the line exactly what she wanted from him. Because she wanted him. And from her speech it made it sound like she was sure he was going to say yes, but she wasn't sure. She decided to phrase it like she was sure so she wouldn't back down out of fear. But it was more than probable that he wouldn't want that anymore. Their timing with each other never matched up in a way that worked. But she decided that it was a good time for her and prayed that it was a good time for Jake too. A good time for both of them, at the same time. Instead of it being a good time for her and a bad time for Jake. But she went in with the hope that it was a good time for the both of them.

After she finished asking him out in a way that she thought might make him laugh (her rambling was unintentional and she didn't exactly think about phrasing the words that came out of her mouth, but afterwards it seemed like a style of confession that Jake would appreciate). But he didn't laugh, or even smile. Just silent with no response, and she realized that it probably was a bad time for Jake. Just another case of mismatched timing between the two of them.

"So let me get this straight, the most boring day since ever was the day you realize our job was so dangerous and basically yolo?" He asked, still trying to piece it all together.

"It was kind of like an epiphany," she explained. "Random perspective. You can say no. I totally get it if you've moved on from feeling all romantic-stylez about me" she informed him, dropping her confident act so he wouldn't feel bad about rejecting her when she seemed so expectant of him. Cause he was just standing there staring, and she figured that since he hadn't said yes yet he was just trying to find the best way to say no. She really did it overkill with that whole speech, didn't she? It definitely would've been a billion times less awkward if she just asked him out like a normal person instead of her almost dying speech. God, this was a huge mistake.

She wished she could just turn and walk straight out the door, but she knew she couldn't leave until he actually said a word. At least one word. She couldn't leave without him telling her yes or no. She needed an answer from him.

"God, please say something, Jake. If that sounds like something you want to do then okay, but if you don't just say no. Or something along those lines. If you don't want to do a whole romantic-stylez dating thing with me just say no and I can go," she pleaded for him to give her an answer so she wasn't just left wringing her hands in wait all night. Wringing her hands only a few feet away from him waiting for him to say a word.

"Nuh-uh. No way. Not at all," he said like she was crazy to even ask and her face fell flat. Of course she was hoping he would say yes, but he didn't need to be such a jerk about turning her down.

"Wait – I'm not saying no to you," he hastily tried to correct himself from her reaction. And he looked half frantic with flurried hands so she had no clue where he was going with it. "I'm saying no to what you're saying. I'm saying no to your no. You're wrong about how I feel. I mean, you're right, but your last few sentences were wrong. I mean... fuck," he swore before giving up and kissing her.

His hands tangled in her hair was so much better than seeing them fumble around in the air a moment before when he was talking. A moment before he shut up and gave her probably the best kiss of her life. Definitely the best kiss of her life.

She wasn't exactly expecting the kiss so when it happened all of the sudden her lips parted completely involuntarily and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and ran with it. When he was kissing her like that it wiped all trace of what he said from her mind. She couldn't remember what he said, couldn't even remember what she said. She couldn't even remember what she asked him or what she was doing there when Jake was kissing her like that. When Amy was nibbling on his bottom lip and scratching her nails down his scalp there wasn't anything else in existence. No words, no signals, no messages.

Just the kiss.

She sighed when their lips parted, but he leaned his forehead against hers so even without kissing she still had his breath mingling with hers and their hands still entangled in each other's hair, but he didn't make a move to separate any further than that.

"Yes," he breathed. "That's the word I was looking for. I'm saying yes. No to your no. Yes to your yes."

"You forgot the word yes? And you forgot any other word that could have sufficed?" She wanted to be mad cause he came that close to giving her a small heart attack because he forgot one of the most common words ever, but she couldn't stop smiling and actually chuckled because he was saying yes. He wanted that. Her. He meant yes.

"I kinda forgot most of the English language. And I forgot how to stop speaking too."

"You're such an idiot."

"Is that an epiph-y-thing-y you're just now having too?" And god, with that smile, there was definitely no way she could be mad at him now. And... she was pretty okay with that. She didn't mind.

"So, just to be clear, now that you remember the word yes, that is what you're saying?" Amy knew she probably didn't need to double check, but you couldn't blame her for wanting to hear it again. Truth be told, she wanted to kiss him again too. She wanted to hear him say yes one more time, and kiss him oh so many more times.

"Yup. Yes. We're dating now, no take backsies. You're stuck with me now that I remember word stuff."

"I think I can live with that," she told him, wrapping his arms around his neck and dragging his lips back to hers in a very, long awaited kiss. Now all they had to do was catch up on lost time.

Luckily, they had all the time in the world.

#peraltiago fic #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #fanfiction #peraltiago #fanfic #fluff #humor #jake/amy #jake x amy #jake peralta #amy santiago #jamy #fic #get together #one shot #myb99 fics #my b99 fics #my fic

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fangirlsarecool · 7 years

Text

The Morning After - Jake Peralta x Reader

This is a sequel to A Long Time Coming. Enjoy!

Also on AO3

You'd had worse hangovers. The sun streaming from the window had woken you up and the headache it triggered was mild compared to other times. Despite this, you had still been drunk enough to forget most of what happened last night. Temporarily. You couldn't believe it had taken this long to notice the extra weight slumped around you nor the feeling of someone else's legs intertwined with yours. This was new; you'd never come home from the bar with someone before. Except from Jake. Your heart rate quickened as you slowly turned onto your other side. Laid beside you was the man himself with a sleeping face so peaceful that you couldn't help but smile. The whole situation felt surreal and became even more so when last night came flooding back to you. The first kiss then more kissing and a cab ride back to Jake's apartment. More kissing and then -- oh, God! You'd had sex! After months of secretly wishing something would happen between the two of you, it had all happened in one night. You knew you should both be getting up for work at any moment but you wanted to treasure this for a little longer. So you rolled back over and took in the sensation of being enveloped by him.

Jake embraced the sight before him - you in just your pants and one of his t-shirts with messy hair, raiding his kitchen cupboards. "Well, this is a good morning." he commented, startling you a little. You turned to face him with a slightly annoyed look. "Do you have anything to eat in this house that isn't filled with sugar?" you sighed. All you wanted was something decent for breakfast that wasn't marketed at toddlers. "Come on, (y/n), you've known me long enough to answer that one yourself."

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "God, your dentist must hate you."

"Joke's on you. I haven't been in seven years." he retorted proudly. Your eyes almost bulged out of your head. "You think that's a brag?" After a few seconds, you added with a shudder, "Ew, I kissed you so much last night."

"Yes, you did." Raising an eyebrow suggestively, he made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. The blush that crept onto your cheeks was inevitable. "So, how you holding up this morning, Peralta?" you queried, changing the subject to the usual "morning-after" agenda. Except in this instance, it truly was. "Funny you should ask," he began, "because it's almost as if I had a shock last night, which sobered me up. Like, I dunno, someone unexpectedly kissing me, perhaps?" Your blush intensified, reminding you of how hot your face got last night. Someone probably could have grilled some burgers on it. Avoiding Jake's gaze a little, you broached, "Last night you said this was a long time coming. What did you mean?"

"Well, you're, like, the only person on the squad who didn't realise that I was...into you," he explained sheepishly, "I mean, the signs were there all along and me being the smooth charmer that I am, I'm surprised you didn't notice." You chuckled. "Plus, I may or may not have known that you liked me." You groaned, realising there was only one person who would have told Jake: your desk buddy and his other best friend, Charles. "Man, I can't trust Boyle with anything." you grumbled.

"He didn't mean to say anything. I was just talking about the dough ball-orange soda stakeout and how that's when I realised and he said --"

"No way." you gasped.

"Exactly." That stakeout was when you'd realised you might have had feelings for him. He'd brought you a huge box of dough balls, your favourite food, and it had just been such a good time. He'd been funny, sweet and just a jot self-absorbed (some of the sure signs that he was flirting yet you'd missed them). You'd been so focussed on denying your feelings that you missed him giving you heart-eyes at every opportunity.

It was then that you caught sight of the time over his shoulder. "As much as I would love to stay like this all day, I'm gonna need to leave now so I can pick up breakfast on the way." you told him and his face fell a little.

"I can give you a ride. And we can stop for breakfast." he offered. You gave him a peck on the lips. "I'd rather not give the squad any ammunition." He nodded and unwrapped his arms from your waist; the loss of contact and warmth immediately noticeable. "I guess I'll see you at work then." he mumbled downcast. "How about I come round tonight? We can get take-out and watch Die Hard."

Jake's face lit up again and you couldn't help but smile. "That sounds perfect."

"Detective."

No-one noticed this odd greeting. No-one really noticed your lack of banter at the morning briefing. No-one saw that you and Jake were standing just a few millimetres closer to each other. You wanted everything to be normal at work but you couldn't even remember what normal was - all your mind and body craved was the evening you had planned, where it would be just the two of you again. Everyone on the squad was too busy to notice the subtle changes. But, of course, Charles could sense something. He'd already rushed over to Jake to find out what was wrong. "Did you have a fight? Did you call her walk weird again?" He gasped dramatically. "Did she insult Die Hard?"

Jake shook his head. "Everything is fine between me and (y/n), okay? Better than fine. Everything is...wonderful." he assured. But Charles wasn't having it. He took a second to take his friend in before concluding, "You had sex last night. I don't know how I missed that. I mean, you're practically glowing and I can smell the--"

"Please don't finish that sentence."

"(Y/n) must be heartbroken."

"Why would (y/n) be heartbroken?" Jake queried loudly as a prompt for you to jump in. "Yeah, Charles, why would I be heartbroken?" Boyle suddenly realised that he'd said something he shouldn't have. He began to stammer out, "Well...she's your...b...best friend and..."

"Why is (y/l/n) heartbroken?" Gina cut in, clearly fishing for drama. You sighed. "I'm not. Jake is welcome to sleep with whoever he wants. It's none of my business."

"Thank you, (y/n). Now, if everyone can just go about their day as normal..."

"Something is up," Charles interjected, walking back over to his desk, "And I will figure it out. Charles Boyle doesn't miss a thing." He attempted to sit down but missed his chair by about an inch so landed, with a thud, on the floor. You and Jake locked eyes immediately, sniggering. Boyle looked between the two several times before his eyes bulged and he exclaimed, "Oh, my God!" He scrambled up off the floor. "It was you! You two had sex last night. Yes! This is the happiest moment of my life. Tell me everything!" You rolled your eyes as your cheeks flared red. "Way to go on subtlety, Boyle." you mumbled.

"I don't blame either of you." Gina voiced.

"Charles, you owe me $20." Rosa called from beside you.

"Why?" you enquired, hoping you wouldn't regret it.

"We had a bet. Boyle said you two would get together of your own accord but I told him it wouldn't happen unless you were both hammered. And I was right." The whole squad really did know that you liked each other. "I can't believe you slept with Jake. Come on, (y/n), I thought you had better standards than that." Amy scoffed. "Thank you for your input, Santiago. But I am a prime specimen and (y/n) has impeccable taste." Jake bragged.

"Please stop discussing my sex life." you pleaded. Santiago turned back to her computer and, with a wink, Jake did the same. "Does it still count if I'm discussing it on Twitter?" Gina posed. You just shot her a look. Boyle was still grinning madly before he rushed off to the break room. "Where's he off to in such a hurry?" Terry asked.

"To plan a wedding." you huffed.

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#jake peralta x reader #fanfiction #b99 #my writing

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