#give max a new brother she deserves it her last one sucked

[torpublishinggroup]

Tor Books EPIC Holiday Gift Guide For Your Oddball Family

Hello hello, and welcome back to our annual TOR BOOKS HOLIDAY GIFT GUIDE, where we give you what we think are the best gifts for the hyper specific, super chaotic individuals in your life. From your childhood BFF to your mildly traumatized game master, we have a whole slew of bookish picks for you this holiday season. Enjoy, and Happy Holidays, y’all!

by Rachel Taylor and a cat

For your long suffering GM (Game Master) who just wants a break from your party — via tenor

Anyone who acts as game master for Dungeons & Dragons (or any other TTRPG, to be frank) deserves an award for powering through all the shenanigans their party puts them through. From attempting to fight a dragon with a fork to accidentally leading your party off a cliff, your deeply stressed out GM deserves a cozy novel to help them decompress. Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree is out now and, for an extra little something, you can submit your receipt to get an adorable acrylic charm, a perfect addition to your gift!

For your cousin who remained loyal and never left Tumblr — via GIPHY

You remember the Tumblr exodus of 2019, and for shame—you were part of it, you fragile soul. But not your cousin. Resolute, they stood by their blog and posted through the long, long night. Three years later, Tumblr is resurging and you need a gift for the one who never lost faith. What’s more Tumblr than magic danger-nerds alternatively hooking up with and hating each other as they conduct research and mainline caffeine and/or alcohol? Redeem your past mistakes with the perfect bookly gifts for your cousin: Olivie Blake’s The Atlas Six and thrilling sequel, The Atlas Paradox.

For the enthusiastic players who got their GM Legends & Lattes — @lookhuman via GIPHY

You love the players at your table, but even after years of collaborative TTRPG storytelling, you’ve never once anticipated the many ways they have conspired to unravel every plot thread you’ve ever written. How then could you ever predict what they might like as a gift? Easy. Just listen to us: Daughter of Redwinter by Ed McDonald is a fantastic epic fantasy about a girl who can A) see ghosts, and B) turn people into them with an expertly placed arrow, if she takes the mind. Of course, if anyone finds out about her power, she’s dead, and circumstances have led her to become a ward in the monastery of the very warrior-magi that would execute her. Oops! What gamesplayer can resist a quick-paced and twisting tale of magic, adventure, and deceit?

For your ex-boyfriend who’s still blowing up your phone with House of the Dragon TikTok’s — via GIPHY

So your ex-boyfriend (who you’re still friends with, DESPITE THE ADVICE OF OTHERS) just finished House of the Dragon and he won’t stop texting you about how much it sucks to have to wait 2 years for season 2. He’s right, but you can still give him a new epic fantasy to obsess over with The First Binding by R.R. Virdi. At over 800 pages, it’ll keep him busy for quite a while AND it also doubles as a premium bludgeoning weapon for you if he doesn’t appreciate your gift. Win win!

For your chronically-online uncle who needs to stop doomscrolling for his own health — @dualvoidmania via GIPHY

He’s mister doom-and-gloom. If there’s an upsetting tweet, you’ve seen it because he’s retweeted it. You don’t quite know him well enough to be comfortable with direct intervention. You need to gift him Last Exit by Max Gladstone. It’s a book about the death of idealism and the rot that creeps through the cracks of reality like so many corrosively fecund vines. It’s about a generation who thought they would transform the world and failure’s fallout. He’ll still be very DOOM-ful, but in an artistically fun, yet still scary way.

For your brother who is OBSESSED with The Wheel of Time on Amazon Prime — via GIPHY

So your brother watched The Wheel of Time on Amazon Prime and has fallen down the 14+ book-deep rabbithole that is Robert Jordan’s timeless epic fantasy series. Help him delve even further into the lore with Origins of the Wheel of Time by Michael Livingston! He’ll be able to learn even more about all the mythology and legends that inspired Robert Jordan’s universe and you’ll get some peace and quiet while he’s absorbed in his new book.

For your sister who always has at least 5 open browser tabs of Ao3 fics — via Gfycat

Who among us hasn’t spent some time reading fix-it fics on Ao3? Well, no one compares to your sister, who currently has 30 tabs open on her iPhone filled with her favorite OTP falling in love 30 different ways (IF THE SHOW WON’T GIVE THEM A HAPPILY EVER AFTER, THE INTERNET WILL). You can’t buy her the perfect 100 chapter slow burn coffee shop fix-it fic of her OTP, but you CAN buy her Ocean’s Echo by Everina Maxwell! It features all the choicest tropes like mutual pining, slowburn, and fake dating and will be sure to put a smile on her face for the holidays.

For your estranged mother, to subtly let her know that your relationship still requires some Conversations — via GIPHY & tenor

Do you want to give your mother a gift that’s also a hint about how you feel about your tumultuous parental relationship? Just Like Home by Sarah Gailey is the gift for her! It’s got great thriller vibes, with a daughter coming back to her family home for the first time after her father was arrested for being a serial killer…which she kind of caused. And mom’s still holding a grudge over a DECADE later. It’s got drama, monsters, and enough parallels to make your mom go ‘Wait, is this f*cking play about US?!’

For the loved one in your life who waited 2.5 years to finally see My Chemical Romance live in Fall 2022 — @KyleeConriquez via GIPHY

A million years ago (Or two and a half. Whatever. Time is meaningless mush) your loved one planned to attend the My Chemical Romance reunion. A show that would eventually be put off and off and off due to ongoing events until earlier this year. It was epic, but you know what else is? Book of Night by Holly Black. Your loved one won’t have to wait 900~ days for this literary event, and just like an MCR show, they’ll want to acquire (more) goth clothes and tattoos after.

For the childhood BFF everyone called a ‘voracious reader’ growing up / anyone who was ‘a delight to have in class’ — via Goodreads

Did your childhood BFF simply devour every book in front of her? Is she still That Person whose TBR pile is precariously stacked in the corner of her living room, a threat to anyone who brushes too close? Give her a book to really whet her appetite for reading in The Book Eaters by Sunyi Dean, where a very special family literally sustains themselves entirely by eating books. Did we bite a book while reading this to see if we were book eaters? Who’s to say.

For your college best friend with at least one historical quote tattoo — via GIPHY

Does your college best friend have an encyclopedic knowledge of historical retellings? Do they have, at minimum, one historically linked tattoo that prompts a 20 minute lecture whenever someone asks what it means? Do they have five different editions of The Song of Achilles on their shelf? And most importantly, do they crave a new, queer retelling to sink their teeth into? Look no further! Neon Yang has a Joan of Arc inspired, post-apocalyptic sci-fi story for you. Check out The Genesis of Misery, ​​starring a queer and diverse array of pilots, princesses, and prophetic heirs.

For the ambiguously LGBTQ+ niece whose fashion sense you try to understand, but ultimately makes you feel insecure about how fast you’re aging — @yifan via GIPHY

You love them, but no one makes you feel old like your nebulously but definitely queer niece. They’re so cool, and are very helpful in keeping you up to date on the hippest trends, but every time you talk to them, you feel the pent-up years in your joints. Get your niece A. K. Larkwood’s The Serpent Gates series, including The Unspoken Name and The Thousand Eyes. It’s about a gay orc death priestess who rebrands herself as a garbage wizard’s personal assassin and picks up a gods-cursed, magi-baddie mid-adventure. There are cosmic gods, ancient ruins, devious machinations, and a lot of awesome gay stuff.

For the sibling on their third+ rewatch of The Expanse — via GIPHY

We get it. Your sibling buddy is bummed that The Expanse has finished its TV run and is still hopelessly in love with its marriage of adrenaline-flooding action and introspective parsing of human expansion / empire. Again, we do get it, and what you need to get is Sweep of Stars by Maurice Broaddus.

For the nephew who you gifted The Way of Kings to last year — via GIPHY

Your nephew reads through books at speeds generally known only to muscle cars and lightning, and he needs long fantasy books now! The time required to produce the next installment in an epic series is often as long as the books themselves, which is unfortunate since it’s time for you to gift your nephew another book. Here’s the good news: Brandon Sanderson writes as fast as your nephew reads, and his long-awaited continuation of the Mistborn series, The Lost Metal, is the perfect gift. And then next year you can get him the next Brando Sando, and the book cycle of giving goes on and on and on.

We hope you and your loves ones have a happy and safe holiday season! Did we miss a super niche friend/family member that you want to see a gift for? Let us know in the comments! 

[misslavenderlady]

The Boys Who Wouldn't Grow Up - Chapter 3

Summary: Being the good brother that he is, Marko helps David get out and have some fun in Santa Carla. David is expecting good music, but little does he know there's a special someone he'll experience too~

I'm afraid my story doesn't have the iconic Sax Man™, but it does have the musical genius of Hall & Oates! For those of you who need a refresher, Maria is the employee at Max's video store that Marko, Dwayne, and Paul flirt with (in a deleted scene she trains Lucy in her new job)!

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

A few days had gone by and barely a word had been traded between Max and David. Their conversation after their first dinner home had definitely soured things between the two, and while Max was struggling to figure out the best way to talk to his son, David was purposely avoiding his father at all costs. Marko was visibly uncomfortable with this, choosing to just spend time with either his grandmother or the dog to avoid asking about what happened.

Despite the efforts to maintain a sense of peace, Marko was starting to feel the itch of cabin fever from being cooped up in the house for so long. He hadn’t gotten any real chances to explore Santa Carla properly, and he thought it was stupid not seeing the place he was going to be for the rest of the summer. He didn’t have a driver’s license and David wasn’t willing to either give a ride or lend his bike so his only option was a 15-minute walk to the nearest section of the beach. 

Luckily, that path had gotten him far enough to find a bulletin board on the street across from the sandy terrain. It was littered with newspaper clippings, sketchy job postings, and an alarming amount of missing person’s posters. Hopefully, they were just for runaways and nothing serious.

After scanning all the papers, Marko finally found something that would help with the boredom. A concert was playing tomorrow night, and it was just the kind of band that both he and David liked. Snatching up one of the copies pinned behind the main page, Marko jogged home, excited to get himself and his brother out of the house for a night on the town. Surely this would put David in a better mood!

“No.” was all David said when Marko had shoved the flier in his face. So much for a better mood.

David was lounging on the couch in the living room with a journal in his lap and the history channel on a low volume for background. It was one of the few moments of peace he had in more space in the house. His father was busy on the phone with his work colleagues back in their hometown and wouldn’t disturb his solitude for a couple of hours. Of course, that didn’t stop Marko from bugging him.

“C’mon, David! Staying in here all day sucks! Some of us DON’T want to be hermits all summer!”

“Fuck no,” David emphasized, not wanting to be bothered any longer.

Marko let out an exasperated sigh, frustrated but not ready to give up. It would be better to try going with the emotional side of his brother.

“Look, man, I’m worried about you. Even though you’re a pain, I don’t like seeing you unhappy” Marko said. He reached out to push David’s journal downward, forcing the older brother to actually look at him when he was talking. 

“If you stay here you’re just gonna keep wallowing in misery, and I know that’ll make you feel worse. Let’s go and have fun, and forget all the other garbage going on”. Even if this was for Marko’s sake of getting out of the house more, there was some genuine care behind it. Despite their brotherly quarrels, he did worry about David and his well-being a lot.

David knew there was some sincerity behind Marko’s words, and it put a pang of guilt in his heart. Just because he was angry at his dad didn’t mean his little brother deserved that kind of treatment too. Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

“Fine. But I’m driving us. You’re not touching my bike after the last time I let you give it a try” David said. He remembered how long it took to buff out the scratches after Marko didn’t put the kickstand down properly. Luckily, that didn’t seem to be a problem because he was so happy with the answer that a big, dopey smile spread across his face.

“Hell yeah! I’m gonna wear that jacket we got on our last vacation! I’m gonna look so damn cool!” Marko exclaimed, running off to prepare his outfit for the next night. David couldn’t help but smirk a little as he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the journal in his hands. Even if the concert didn’t make him feel better, at least it would put his little brother in a good mood. That definitely counted for something.

One of the things David and Marko had in common besides their taste in music was their taste in fashion. After David had drastically transformed his style and filled his wardrobe with leather jackets, dark shirts, and spiked jewelry, Marko followed suit.

He was pretty tame most of the time, but on special occasions, he loved breaking out the collection of elaborate jackets and fingerless gloves he had started collecting. He even learned some basics in sewing so he could add new accessories and patches to the denim jackets he had. Max didn’t understand their look, but it at least made the two happy to be creative.

Tonight was the perfect night to dress their best and have some fun. After putting together their outfits and accessories, the two went out to the concert on David’s bike.

Max had watched them pull out of the driveway from the kitchen window. As nice as it was seeing his boys out and somewhat joyful, it was hard not to worry about them being out by themselves. He sometimes saw them as small children, needing their hands held as they all crossed the street. Santa Carla could be quite crazy at night, and the last thing he wanted was his boys to get involved with local gangs or get mugged in an alley.

He wouldn’t admit it, but one of the reasons why he wanted them to be more mature was because he didn’t want them to be vulnerable and unwise to the dangers of the world. The better prepared they were, the more likely they were to follow the right path in life. It was difficult to find the right words to express that sometimes.

His mother must have been able to figure out why he looked so worried because she stepped up to Max’s side and put her arm around his shoulder. She smiled at her son and gave him a gentle pat.

“They’re not the only ones who deserve a little fun out,” she said. “Why don’t you go out for some fresh air, dear? It’ll help you clear your head”

Suddenly, a walk on the boardwalk sounded less scary and a bit more inviting. Perhaps Max had been spending too much time alone with his thoughts. A little exercise and a new environment would be for the best right now. Smiling at his mom, Max gave a nod and left the room to put on some sneakers before heading out.

The music at the concert was pumping with energy and power as it played over the massive crowd of teens and 20-somethings. Girls were hoisted onto the strong shoulders of the guys in the crowd to enjoy a better view. The light of several glow sticks and flames from lighters illuminated the darkness. The air was heating up fast because of the summer air and the people crowded together. All of the area was bursting with life, and everyone was feeling the rush.

Almost everyone.

The band onstage had been playing hit after hit for a good hour now, and while David had been liking the music, he was feeling his internal battery slowly drain. He had hoped to genuinely enjoy things and match the energy his brother had kept up, but he was still struggling. He wondered if other kids like him dealt with this. Genuinely wanting to try to have a good time, but their brains just not letting them. He remembered talking about it with the school counselor, but there hadn’t been enough time to go into detail about it.

Instead of jumping to the beat of the song with Marko, David had started smoking a cigarette, trying to relax a bit more. He knew it was a bad habit, but he tried to limit himself to just one stick a day. A little hit to make it through tough moments. 

Marko whooped and hollered with joy as the band started playing a cover of one of his favorite Hall & Oates songs. The keyboard was boosting his already high energy and he found himself swaying along. 

David gave him a small smile and nod, encouraging his brother to have fun while he enjoyed his smoke. 

“Aren’t you a little young for those?” a voice asked to David’s left. Surprised, he snapped his head in the direction it came from, coming face to face with a girl. Not just a girl though. A breathtakingly beautiful girl. 

She was shorter in height than David and looked at him with a gleam in her dark, brown eyes. Her hair had shiny curls that fell to her shoulders. Her almond-toned skin was practically glowing under the moonlight and she was dressed in a red-toned, strapless, bohemian dress. This girl was absolutely flawless from head to toe, and she had picked David of all people to talk to.

“Funny, that’s what the dealer who sold me them said” he joked, taking another drag, but being courteous enough to blow it away from her direction. Better try not to be as big an asshole as usual in front of the lady.

“You know, you have a really nice complexion, honey. Smoking will just take it away~”

The mystery girl reached out and brushed her fingers over David’s cheekbone, gentle with her long, painted nails. He could feel his heartbeat speeding rapidly, definitely not used to getting such intimate attention. The perfume on her wrist smelled of lilac, and it was already making him feel lightheaded in the best way possible.

He didn’t think twice before flicking the smoke to the ground and crushing it under his boot. Addiction be damned if it meant getting more attention from her. 

“You wanna dance with me a bit~?” the mystery girl asked. Funny enough, she seemed to be whispering, but he could hear her clearly over the volume of the band. David’s tongue couldn’t form the right words, so he instead wordlessly nodded and took her hand in his. The smile she gave him when he accepted was enough to stop his heart. 

Manic moves and drowsy dreams

Or living in the middle between the two extremes

Smoking guns hot to the touch

Would cool down if we didn't use them so much

The song was a perfect guide for the moves David and the mystery girl did together. Without even thinking, the hand that didn’t hold hers was wrapped around her slim waist. As he moved side to side with her, he felt his brain clouding, not thinking as it should, but just getting lost in the moment. When was the last time he felt this blissful?

We're soul alone

And soul really matters to me

Too much

As the two swayed to the beat together, she giggled, clearly enjoying the moves he was making up as he went. Her smile was the brightest he had ever seen, and he would have told her so if he wasn’t feeling so tongue-tied. It was so rewarding to let go and have fun. David truly felt like his best self right now. 

Just a boy with a girl without a care in the world as they danced. It was odd feeling himself smile so much as it had been so long since he had a reason to do so. 

You're out of touch

I'm out of time

But I'm out of my head when you're not around

He spun the girl around, feeling giddy from the laughter that escaped her. Their moves were growing bolder and the energy he had been lacking before was now free-flowing. She swayed so gracefully, almost as if she was floating on air instead of the ground. It was impossible not to be enchanted by her every move. 

She stopped suddenly, holding her gaze with David. The way she looked at him made his body go still, almost as if he was paralyzed. He had just met this girl and yet she had complete control over him. She seemed to be studying him as if she was taking in every piece of information about him without saying a single word. 

His heart was racing more than ever as the mystery girl leaned in and whispered close to his ear. The lilac scent was even stronger now. Without his own control, David shut his eyes and listened closely.

“Goodnight. I’m sorry…” 

Whatever spell David had been under was broken and he could move again. His eyes shot open, and the girl he had enjoyed the dance with was gone. He moved his head around in every direction, desperately looking for her. There were plenty of people in this crowd, but none of them were her. How the hell did she get out of sight so fast? He had opened his eyes as soon as she spoke, so there was no possible way for her to get far. 

Why did she leave? Why did she say she was sorry?

More confused and concerned than ever, David realized he hadn’t given her his name or even asked for hers. How could he be so stupid?! He wanted to end their moment on a better note, and if he was going to do that, he needed to find her quickly. 

He rushed over back to Marko, who hadn’t seen what happened but was instead still lost in the music. David clasped a hand on his brother’s shoulder, grabbing his attention. Marko’s smile fell when he saw how overwhelmed his brother looked. He knew he had gotten tense as the night went on, but now he looked a lot worse.

“What’s wrong?” Marko asked, stopping his dance to focus on his brother.

“Follow me. I need to find someone,” he simply said, taking Marko’s hand and leading him to the wooden staircase at the back of the venue. He figured since it was the closest exit, she might have headed to the boardwalk. It was still impossible how fast she had left, but he would do his best to find her. 

You're out of touch

I'm out of time

But I'm out of my head when you're not around

credit for the pics goes to quotev.com and mycast.io

[intergalacticaquarium]

Gonnaaaaa start posting some Max and Eddie au fics tmrw lmk if u wanna tag

[vanillann]

this is how you fall in love

(s.h. x gender neutral!reader)

i. ii. iii.

i wrote a fic like this for george weasley and i got bored a wrote one for steve

it’s sucks for beware

TW: nightmare and talk of death

Steve's knuckles gripped the nailed baseball bat with fear. He didn't know where Dustin or anyone else had gone; he could only hear the faint sound of screams. Fog climbed up his leg like an animal climbing a tree.

"Guys!"

His voice echoed off the imagery walls of his mind, and a piercing howl followed closely behind. He was going to die, he was confident in that, but he really didn't want to die alone. He didn't want Dustin to find his mangled body with blood seeping through his new polo. He didn't want Robin to beg him to walk up because they had a shift on Tuesday he couldn't miss. He didn't want Max to lose another brother; she didn't deserve that.

Steve always knew he would die alone; he just hoped he was wrong.

"Steve," the gentle voice made Steve panic more; since when could a Demogorgon talk?

"Steve!"

His body bolted forward, the sweat sticking the butter-yellow sheets to his calves. Cold hands ghosted over his clammy figure, bringing him back to reality. The vintage dresser and vase of sunflowers reminded Steve of the life he had built. No Demogorgon in sight, and he was far from alone.

"Are you okay, sweets?" (Y/N) sat up fully, holding the sheets close to their chest as it rose and fell rapidly. With the wild hair and panic breathing, Steve wondered whether he was the one who actually had the nightmare or was it his sweet lover.

"Did I wake you up?" Steve swallowed the last scream, hoping to forget the panic moments ago.

"Do you need some tea? I can get the satin sheets. I know those always help when you sweat in your sleep," before Steve could answer, (Y/N) was falling out of bed. Their pantless form scurried across the carpeted floor, muttering under their breath.

Steve wished they'd stay in bed a few minutes longer because now he was alone again. His fingers rubbed the worry from his hair, which he sloppy cut all those years ago after reading an article at the doctor that hair could hold memories. He thought giving himself a horrible haircut would stop the nightmares, but they didn't, and he no longer had his perfect hair. He cried, rightfully sobbed, until (Y/N) came home and braided the choppy strains. He came home the next day with every hair product that promised fast growth.

The memory calmed Steve's nerves long enough to remove himself from the soft bedding and make his way through the apartment. The sound of dishes crashing to the floor made a smirking ghost over his strong jawline.

"Shit," (Y/N) stood in the center of a chaotic mess holding a steaming cup of coffee that was almost white from milk and sugar.

Just how he liked it.

"We really need to move those pans," Steve pointed to the pots and pans that hung over the island, which was a cute idea but with the way (Y/N) moved, it was a funeral waiting to happen, and he could lose them to a pot. He couldn't lose them, period.

"Go back to bed," (Y/N) ignored the comment, moving to grab a muffin that Nancy had dropped off a few days ago after Robin and her started watching a new cooking show.

"You first," Steve picked up the pans and other things that ended on the floor and took a seat on the mismatched barstools.

"You're the one having nightmares," they sighed, sitting beside him on the other barstool. He said nothing, looping his finger on the leg and dragging in so close Steve could hear their heartbeat through the thick band tee.

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

Steve felt tingles climb up his spine with a rush to his head. They knew he wasn't okay. It wasn't just the screaming and thrashing in his sleep; no, it was much more than that. It was Nancy and Robin conveniently finding the recipe for his favorite muffin. It was the guest room for when he needed someone who survived those attacks to be here in case he needed to talk. It was the fact there wasn't a baseball bat in the house, even if (Y/N) played in their free time.

This was pure, honest love, and Steve couldn't contain the emotions running around his cerebral cortex.

"I love you, you know?"

"I know; I love you." Steve couldn't name the day or even the month it happened, but he watched (Y/N) 's eye bags watching him like the stars during a meteor shower, he knew.

This was falling in love, Steve Harrington was in love, and he was far from alone. It was his greatest fear since his junior year, hell, maybe even before then. He thought the upside down would take everything from him because he would let it. He wasn't strong enough to save everyone.

Barb.

Bob.

Billy.

Heather.

He let the upside-down win; even if he wasn't there, he shouldn't have done something. He was supposed to save everyone, and he couldn't, but sitting in the messy kitchen with the love of his life watching him so closely, he knew.

This was how he fell in love.

His knuckles, the same ones white from fear only moments earlier, now traced his lover's jaw. He saved himself for them without even knowing it.

"Thank you," he muttered softly as if the cabinets could hear the inanimate conversation.

"Don't thank me for loving you; just love me back," (Y/N) leaned closer to his touch, softly closing their eyes.

"I can do that," and he would forever.

all my works tags:

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[ddsorpresa]

Stranger things spoiler alert!

.

.

.

What the hell did I just watch I feel like falling down to earth after "THE MASSACRE AT HAWKINS LAB".

Somebody please gets Nancy, Steve (probably Jonathan too) a therapist. I'm tired of this 'I need to have a lover or I'll die'. Can't they just figure themselves out instead of being stuck in a love triangle?

Fine if Nancy is straight I know Robin only likes her as a friend anyway, but my dear Duffer Brothers you really can't shove a corny script into out faces and expect us to hype over it as long as there's a girl around Robin. Do you know why we root for ronance? Because they actually have chemistry and progression! Vicky isn't going to pop up out of nowhere, saying she broke up with her bf and happens to say the same line Robin told Steve and voilá there's your cute little lesbian couple. You treat Robin like that and I'll ninja kick in your face.

*inhale* AND I WILL FIND YOU IF MAX ISN'T GOING TO WAKE UP OR HAS ANY LASTING DAMAGE God she's so brave and if she doesn't have the happiness she deserves Duffer Brothers you better run to your Vecna friend and ask for his help before I catch you.

Don't get me to start with Mike.

Eleven you did a good job you deserve that hug with Hopper. Don't feel guilty.

Someone please gives Will another hug and tells him we know it sucks crushing on a straight (bestfriend who's taken) boy. And please tells him he can do better than that. God I just want him to be happy.

Rest in peace Eddie. You are so lovely you will be missed.

My bet is Natalia and Maya thought they got a gay script and now they are thumping on Duffer Brothers' door asking for explanation. It's OK girls you can have a whole new lesbian movie for you please get one I love you two together so much.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

[moonlitwings1]

Icing on Top

Christmas cookies were a tradition in the Mayfield house, and Max isn’t going to let two obnoxious Hargrove men ruin it this year. They didn’t do it the year before because someone thought that cookies would be bad for his cholesterol. Old man problems, Max thinks. If Neil doesn’t want his cholesterol to increase or whatever, why doesn’t he just not eat cookies. Seems simple enough to her. 

Thankfully, Neil’s not here right now. He’s with her mom going last minute Christmas shopping. She could’ve gone with them, but she doesn’t have anymore money to buy anything, spent it all on the arcade last week. She’s just going to give Neil and her mom cards, same as last year. Thank you for being the best mom! Max internally cringes. It sounds so fake every time she writes it. It’ll be even worse to write one for Neil. For Billy...well, she doesn’t know what he likes besides music and being an asshole, so he’ll get a card too.

She doesn’t believe in Santa anymore. Stopped believing when Billy ruined that for her literally the day they met. Laughed in her face and told her she was stupid for not realizing her mom’s the one who puts the presents under the tree. She remembers going to her mom and crying because the new boy just told her Santa’s not real. Turns out, when you stop believing in Santa, you also stop getting gifts from him. So for a couple years now, Max has only gotten one gift under the Christmas tree instead of two like she used to. No more presents from Santa, but at least Neil was happy about that. He said that he never thought this Santa business was any good for kids. False idols or whatever. Religious shit she doesn’t care about. Neil acts like he’s oh so religious, but they go to church about five times a year, and the entire time Neil’s only focused on Billy, who is doing everything in his power to annoy Max.

Well, tomorrow’s Christmas and her mom bought a horrible red dress with little white fluff across the edges, the same kind she’s seen too many little girls wear. She’ll have to convince her mom not to let her wear that. Later. Right now, she has a different focus, cook book stuffed underneath her arm as she searches for the ingredients. 

“Flour, sugar, baking soda, butter, eggs,” she mutters under her breath, repeating the ingredients to herself over and over again. Sounds easy enough. She’s never made cookies by herself before, but wherever Neil is, her mom is, and she doesn’t want Neil to get in the way of her Christmas festivities, as he likes to call them. So for now, she’s going to have to figure out how to do this by herself. She’s definitely not allowed to use the oven without an adult, but tonight, she’s planning to prove that she’s not a fucking child. 

She had just gotten started on the wet ingredients when she hears the back door slam shut, making her flinch hard. You’ve got to be fucking kidding. They haven’t even been gone for ten minutes. Neil must’ve forgotten something. She thinks she’s screwed and frantically starts hiding the bowls when she realizes those steps were far too heavy and obnoxious to be Neil’s. Max almost lets out a sigh of relief when Billy struts into the kitchen. He’s an asshole, but at least he’s not Neil. 

She doesn’t know where he went, probably went to hang out with some girl like he always tells Neil, but she swears the cologne he’s wearing smells vaguely similar to the one Steve had on the other day. Maybe they’re friends now? Nah. Must be some new popular teen cologne, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She won’t give it much more attention. 

“The fuck are you doing?” he asks, the scarred eyebrow lifting. He sounds more interested than angry.

“Making cookies. Go away,” she spits before turning her back to him and bringing her focus back to the wet ingredients.

He hums, amused like he always is when he’s annoying her, “Don’t think you’re supposed to be making anything by yourself, Maxi.”

She pauses what she’s doing, closes her eyes, and lets out a long sigh, tries to control her temper. “I’m not a fucking child, Billy. Go away,” she repeats. “I can handle it. And don’t call me that.”

He peers over her shoulder to look at what she’s making. She tries to ignore him, but she can literally feel him breathing down her neck, and he’s standing way too fucking close to her. She knows he’s doing it on purpose. 

“Maaaax,” he whispers. 

She continues ignoring him, mixing the bowl furiously, but after another minute of Billy just standing behind her, he snorts like somethings funny. And that pisses her off because nothing’s funny right now. He’s just an asshole who’s ruining her Christmas. 

So without warning, she spins around, slams two hands into his chest and pushes him as hard as she can (which isn’t saying much, but she’s not going to admit that). Billy didn’t see that coming. She can tell because he actually stumbles a little bit. So she doesn’t stop there, tries to push him out of the kitchen completely before he regains himself. She wasn’t fast enough.

When he realizes what she’s trying to do, he laughs. It’s not even the scary laugh that he made while beating up Steve last year. He’s laughing at her. The fucking asshole’s making fun of her, and it does nothing to soothe her frustration. This time, she aims a slap at his face, but he catches her wrist before she could do anything. She gasps aloud because ow that stung.

“Ouch, you jackass! That fucking hurt!” 

She starts hitting him with her left hand, gets in a few good hits before he snatches that one away too. If he were any closer, she would bite his wrist. She considers kicking him in the dick, but he must see what she’s thinking because he spins her around and bear hugs her from behind, trapping her arms to her side. They’re both panting now, but one from exertion and one from laughter. 

“Jesus Christ, Maxine,” he laughs. “I didn’t fucking do anything to you. The hell blew your fuse?”

“Stop laughing,” she huffs, struggling in his arms and trying to glare at him, because he still has a sleazy grin plastered on his face. She can fucking hear it in his voice. “And get off of me!”

“You cool?”

She’s totally not cool, but she’s not going to tell him that. “Yes I’m fucking cool.”

“You su-”

“YES IM SURE, BILLY.” 

He chuckles one more time before letting her go. “Whatever you say, Maxi-pad.” 

She decidedly ignores his comment and rubs her shoulder from where his arm pressed into hers. “Can you leave now?”

“Not until you tell me what you’re making.”

“I already said cookies.”

“What kind?” Max knows he’s not actually interested in her cookies. He just wants to find a reason to bug her longer. 

“Sugar. What else would I make for Christmas, dumbass.” She’s lucky he doesn’t immediately attack her for calling him ‘dumbass.’ She probably shouldn’t push it anymore. 

“I want you out of the kitchen in an hour,” he snaps, “And you better not burn this house down.” He strides out of the room before she can reply but not before giving her a stony look that warns of death. Asshole. 

Alone at last. Even if Billy’s home, it’s not like he’s going to leave his room anytime soon. He’ll lock himself in there and stay put for hours. She wonders what he does in there for so long and slightly winces when his music starts vibrating through the house. Max lets out a long sigh. She forgot about that. He usually doesn’t put it too loud when Neil’s home. 

She tries to block out the music and focus on the task at hand. Do they have any more eggs? 

---

Twenty minutes later, Max is staring at the oven proudly, hands on her hips. The cookies are currently baking, and she has a good feeling about them. They’re not pretty, and they’re oddly shaped (since they don’t have any cutouts), but she’s sure they’ll come out ok. She’s not, however, looking forward to cleaning up the entire kitchen. Its a mess, bowls everywhere, and the hand mixer is dripping onto the floor, but she can clean it up later, preferably before Billy comes out of hibernation and screams at her about it. But for now, she deserves a fucking break.

She heads off towards her room, and lounges around for ten minutes, looking through some comics, while waiting for the cookies to finish.

Things were going so well. So fucking well until the fire alarms starts blaring and makes Max jump out of her skin. She hears Billy’s music suddenly shut off. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She’s too scared to move. She doesn’t move when she hears loud footsteps walking towards the kitchen, and she doesn’t move when the fire alarm stops ringing. She definitely doesn’t move when those loud footprints start getting increasingly louder, coming closer to her room. She’s going to die. She’s going to be murdered by her own brother. She shoots a quick prayer to whatever god out there that maybe she’ll survive this one long enough, so she can tell her mom goodbye. 

Her door bursts open. 

“MAXINE.” She recoils from his voice.“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?”

When she doesn’t say anything, his voice goes deathly quiet. “I leave you alone for barely an hour, and you manage to fuck it all up.” 

Max still doesn’t say anything. She imagines she looks like a deer in headlights because she’s totally frozen, sitting on her bed just staring at him. It must piss him off though because he starts towards her. Thankfully, something turns on in her brain and she immediately goes and stands on the other side of the bed where he can’t easily reach her. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not going to do shit to you,” he says, running a hand over his face. When she still doesn’t move, utterly unconvinced, he continues. “I just want you to see what a bang up job you did of making those fucking cookies, so get out here.”

She’s still not totally convinced, but if she stays there any longer, he might try to drag her out himself so she’s just got to suck it up. She moves cautiously towards the door, side-eyeing Billy to see if he’s going to pounce, but he doesn’t. 

Thank God nothing besides the cookies were burnt. If anything was actually damaged, she wouldn’t even be alive right now. 

“I-I don’t know what happened, Billy. I literally followed the recipe so don’t try to blame me for this,” she snaps, turning around to glare at him.

He scoffs at her. “What happened,” he growls, grabbing the open cookbook and stabbing a finger into the page, “is that you didn’t read the fucking directions correctly and set the oven at 450 degrees instead of 350 degrees.”

Max looks at where he’s pointing and her spirit drops when she realizes that he’s right. It says right there, Preheat the oven to 350°F. She internally curses herself. How did she not see that? If she had just paid attention, she wouldn’t be in this mess. 

He watches her reaction and snorts. “Someone can’t read,” he says, and reaches out to ruffle her hair. She tries to slap his hand away, but it just makes him ruffle her hair harder. 

“Now clean-” But before he could complete his sentence, Max storms out of the kitchen, taking a wide turn around Billy so there’d be a smaller chance that he’d try to grab her. 

When she looks over at him though, it doesn’t look like he was going to anyway. She doesn’t know why he’s like this, why he always switches emotions every two seconds. Five minutes ago, he had barged into her room, murderous, and she was sure she was going to die. Now? Now he’s fucking joking with her. He literally just ruffled her hair like she’s his sister. She hates it. Why can’t he just be normal? 

She slams the door behind her and locks it as she walks in. Thankfully, Neil still hasn’t taken away her lock like he’d done for Billy, so she still has a semblance of privacy. She’s almost in tears, and she doesn’t know why. She’s just...frustrated. The sound of heavy footsteps come her way, and she immediately dives under her covers, pulling the duvet up and over her head. She’s embarrassed from her stupid mistake that Billy will inevitably make fun of her for. Thinking about it just makes more tears sting the corner of her eye. She wants to be left alone, but Billy’ll never let that happen. 

He pounds on the door. “Maxine, open up.”

She doesn’t answer, digging her head into her pillow harder. Maybe if she ignores him, he’ll leave. In the back of her head, she knows that that’s not what’s going to happen. 

"Hey shitbird, get your ass out here,” he says again, back to asshole mode and pounding harder on the door. “Did ya see the fucking kitchen? You better clean that shit up before Susan and Neil come home.”

She still doesn’t say anything. 

“Max,” his voice goes deadly quiet, “if you don’t get your ass out in the next ten seconds, I’m going to-”

“GO AWAY BILLY! I JUST WANTED TO MAKE COOKIES WITHOUT ANYONE BOTHERING ME FOR ONCE AND YOU JUST HAVE TO GO AND RUIN ANYTHING!” 

“You ruined that shit for your-”

“Leave me alone, Billy.” Her voice cracks when she says his name, and he must hear it because he does. She knows she’s going to have to clean the kitchen up eventually, but she can’t bring herself to right now. Maybe it’s because she’s going to start her period any second, or maybe it’s because Billy’s just a jerk, but she feels abnormally upset. Unreasonably miserable. Billy’s antics don’t usually put her in this bad of a mood, and she feels stupid for letting it. 

Ten minutes later, she hears him stomping around the house and the jingle of keys. The back door slams shut, and she knows he just left the house, probably to cool himself down before he actually murders her. 

She’s alone. 

----

Max wakes up startled from her nap with the sound of someone picking at her lock. She looks around widely for the time. An hour has passed, who’s-

The door burst open, and there stands a triumphant looking Billy. “HAH,” he shouts. “I’ve opened the door!”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. He sounds more stupid than usual. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t see him with a smile on his face very often. 

“What are you doing?” she asks cautiously because she doesn’t want to accidentally piss him off. 

“Come out here,” he says. Oh, not this again. She huffs and plops her face right back into the pillow, turning to her side so she’s facing away from the door. She’s not dealing with this again. If she wants to be locked up in her room, why can’t she?

“Max,” he calls, walking closer to her. “Get up, I’ve got stuff for you.” That peaks Max’s interests, and she raises her head a little, getting annoyed when she sees the smirk on Billy’s face. He knew saying that would get her to pay attention. 

“What?” 

“I’m not telling you until you get up,” he says, tugging at her blanket now. She smacks his hand away, and plops her head right back down. 

“Then I’m not getting up. You’re literally the fucking grinch so it’s not like it’s going to be anything good anyways.”

He laughs at that. “So if I’m the grinch, who are you? Cindy fucking Lou Who?” 

Max covers her smile with the duvet. “Just tell me what you got.”

“Nope,” Billy says and walks his annoying ass straight out of her room. 

She decides to stay in bed, refuses to give in to Billy’s obvious plan to get her to come out of her room. But curiosity catches up to her when she hears him banging around the kitchen, and five minutes later, she’s dragging herself out from under the covers and walking into the room. She stops when she catches Billy red handed, literally, with two of his fingers dipped into a small bowl of red icing. 

When he sees her watching, he grins at her, teeth stained red and gross. “Oh hey there Maxine. Didn’t see ya there. I’m really enjoying this lovely frosting,” He waggles his fingers at her for emphasis. “Better take it away from me before I eat it all.”

He’s about to double dip his nasty fingers into the frosting again before Max can’t help herself and has to cut in. 

She runs up to him and smacks his hand away. “Oh my God. Billy, that’s literally so unsanitary. Give it here.” She takes the can of frosting from him, and mumbles you’re so gross under her breath. The cover of the can features pretty sugar cookies all covered in red frosting and sprinkles. If only she still had her stupid cookies. Now they’re at the bottom of the trash can, all black and burnt. 

“Why’d you buy this anyway? Not like I’m gonna be using them anymore.”

Billy drums his fingers on the counter. “It’s so you can decorate your little cookies,” he says. “You’re lucky I’m craving sugar right now.” She hasn’t properly decorated cookies since California when she was with her dad. It might not seem like a big deal to him, but she’s getting excited over it. He can probably tell by the smile that has just spread across her face. 

“I’m giving you a second chance, so don’t fucking screw this up. You hear me?” he’s glaring at her now, all threats and ager. Of course, he immediately tries to ruin the moment. 

 “So you’ll let me make them again?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they come out shit again, though. You can’t cook to save your life.”

She huffs. Totally not true. “We don’t have any more butter though.”

He pats the plastic bag on the counter. “’s all in here.” 

She looks over at the bag he touched. So is that where he went while she was sleeping? 

“You went to the store?”

He grunts in response. “Figured you’d need more shit after your first failed attempt.”

“Ok, thanks,” she says, already making a grab for the hand mixer. “You can leave now.” 

“Ungrateful ass,” he snorts. “Last time I left, you burnt the fucking cookies and set off the fire alarm so I don’t think so.”

Max sighs. “So what? You’re just gonna stand there?”

He smirks at her, leaning against the counter. “Hand me the mixer.” 

---

Apparently Billy’s good at baking because ten minutes later he has all the ingredients combined and the dough rolled out on the table. She didn’t roll out the dough during her attempt so it makes sense now why her cookies were ugly even before they got burnt. 

They only bickered a couple times. Once because Max questioned him about how he smells suspiciously like Steve. She didn’t expect him to get so defensive, but he immediately snapped at her and told her not to get into other people’s business. His defensiveness made her think that him and Steve were friends now, and he’s just embarrassed to admit it. Or maybe they’re...more? When she suggested that though, he nearly shoved her head into the dough so that’s going to be the last time she investigates on that. 

The second time, they bickered over whether or not they should add food coloring to the dough. I payed good money for this, shitbird, so we’re using it. They eventually decided to make different batches, some with dye and some without.  

“Do we need to cut them into circles now?”

“The fuck are you thinking? Circles are boring.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Oh I’m ever so sorry for offending you, master baker Billy,” she says sarcastically.  “What do you suggest we do to spice up this atrocious dough.”

Billy points his head towards the plastic bag. “Look in there, junior baker Maxine.”

She reaches out for the magical plastic bag. It’s already given her butter and red frosting. What else could be in there? Her entire face lights up when she sees a can of green frosting, four different cookie cutters, and so many sprinkles. 

“Consider this your Christmas present because you’re not going to get anything else.”

She gapes at him. He’s never done anything nice to her in her entire life. Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but it’s definitely a once in a blue moon occasion. 

“Thank you,” she says, still gaping at him. She doesn’t know what else to say. 

“Yeah well stop staring at me like that.” He reaches across and flicks her mouth shut. “And close your mouth. You’re gonna catch flies.” 

She doesn’t say anything to that, but stares down at the plastic bag again. She’ll decorate a cookie for her mom. A red one with green sparkles. She wonders if Billy’ll decorate one for his dad. Probably not. Guess he’ll go cookie-less. Better for his cholesterol anyways. 

Her thoughts are disrupted when Billy’s fingers smudge bright, red, frosting across her face. She flinches and tries to shove him off but he does it again, icing smeared across both cheeks now. 

“You asshole,” she laughs, reaching inside the plastic bag and pulling out the green frosting. “You’re so on.”

By the end of their frosting battle, they’re both covered in red and green icing. At one point Billy even started showering her with sprinkles. It’ll take forever to get it out of her hair, and there’s barely any frosting left for the cookies, but there was just enough to make it last. 

Their parents were appalled when they walked in on their children covered in sugar, but it was worth it. Neil wasn’t even that upset since her mom was seemed happy enough. Susan followed them around with a camera, trying to convince them to pose together. You guys look so cute! C’mon just one picture. They retreated to their rooms to hide. 

Max ended up with two Christmas presents under the tree that year. 

[broadstbroskis]

surprises- pt 8 | mat barzal

oooffff it’s been quite a long journey and thanks for sticking with me through the wait! it’s finally here- the next and last part of surprises! thanks to everyone for reading, thanks for all your lovely feedback and kind words throughout this series, and all the support as i worked through this last part! it’s meant the world to me and i hope you all enjoy this last part!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

When you wake up one morning to absolute silence, you get suspicious. No baby cries, no sounds of Mat breathing next to you, nothing.

But when you investigate, you find Mat sprawled out on the couch, holding Maeve against his chest, and they’re both passed out. She’s grown, definitely grown a lot since you brought her home, but his hand still covers most of her body. You reach for your phone, snapping a picture (to add to the many you’ve taken of the two of them over the past month), only to fumble it when you see the instagram notification on the front screen. 

Mat’s tagged you in a post and you sit down on the floor in front of the two of them as you slide to open it. And then, you gasp, immediately reaching to cover your mouth and hide the sound, as you look through the roll of pictures that Mat posted.

One Month with Maeve: You Like: eating, sleeping, anything your mom does You Dislike: tummy time

When you look up, Mat’s watching you, with a hopeful look on his face. “Hi.” He says quietly.

“Hi.” You return, flipping your phone around to him. “I call bullshit.”

He laughs-gently and quietly, so as not to wake Maeve-and then grins. “Oh yeah? On what?”

“That she likes anything I do.” Maeve’s just...so content anytime she’s in Mat’s arms. Anytime he’s just in her proximity. She’s recently started to recognize his voice, turning her head for it anytime she hears it...sometimes even over FaceTime. “You are definitely the favorite.”

Mat kisses the top of Maeve’s head gently; it’s a favorite thing for both of you right now, you’re pretty sure. “Maybe, but we still like anything you do.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “We?”

“Yeah, both of us.” Mat says, like it’s something he says everyday, totally normal and casual.

Cheeks flushed, you stand up. “I’m going to go make breakfast.”

“We’ll come.” Mat stands, careful not to jostle Maeve too much.

“You don’t have to.” You offer. You know how tired he is all the time now, between Maeve and playoffs. He could use all the rest he can get.

“I want to.” Mat settles himself on one of the chairs by the counter and re-adjusts Maeve. “I feel like I barely get to see you guys right now.”

“Somebody’s gotta pay off that nice, big house.” You chirp, pulling out the eggs to make omelets.

Mat laughs. “Can’t even move into it yet and it’s already costing me money.”

“Don’t think about the price tag until you get paid this summer.”

“Once again. You cannot max out my credit card in the Target Home Section. Even with a bonus this year.”

“I gave you the most perfect human ever and this is how you repay me?’

Mat looks down at Maeve, unable to stop the smile that grows over his face, and in return, you feel one spread across yours as you watch him. “Go crazy.”

-----

Two Months with Maeve: You Like: the new hockey mobile Uncle Tito bought you, when your mom and i talk to you You Dislike: the carseat, more tummy time

When you slip into Maeve’s nursery in the new house (just barely unpacked, but still the most unpacked room in the entire house by far), Mat’s got the same sad look on his face that he’s worn for the last three days, standing in the middle of the room, watching her sleep. You give him a minute, see if he notices your presence, and when he doesn’t acknowledge you, you slide behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, dropping your head between his shoulder blades. “You’re still amazing.”

Mat’s laugh is hollow and you know he’s thinking about how he was held scoreless for the last two games this series, thinking about all the things he could have done differently so that they weren’t eliminated. “You’re biased.”

“Like I’ve ever held back from telling you that you suck before.”

It’s not a smile, but the corner of his lips do turn up. “Fair.”

You smile, hiding the grin in his back. “We’re happy to have you home more.”

“Even though this means we won’t get to put Maeve in the cup?” You can picture his eyebrows raise with the question, even though it’s dark and you’re not even looking at him.

“I mean, she would have looked really cute in it.” You poke his side. “But I’ll get over it. We’ll just have to take cute baby pictures with her somewhere else.”

“You mean, like this new house we just moved into?”

“This new house we just moved into where every room is either filled with boxes or has no furniture?”

You feel Mat hesitate. “Maybe there’s a park nearby.” He says and you laugh. 

“Maybe.” You agree, slipping around to curl into his side, so you can both watch Maeve sleep.

-----

Three Months with Maeve: You Like: that new activity mat, music, afternoon walks You Dislike: pop goes the weasel, noisy birds on the walks

“These came out so good.” Molly enthuses, beaming as she stares at the pictures of Maeve that you and Mat had professionally taken, shortly after your conversation about it, to send out in cards to everyone you know.

“Right?” It had taken a little to decide where you wanted to have the pictures taken, the house still not finished and immediately eliminated. Almost all the parks nearby had been eliminated by your photographer due to lighting and the one that hadn’t, had been nixed by you. You and Mat had both scrunched your nose up at the thought of bringing Maeve to the beach already, as well as a few other suggestions. In the end, though, you can’t imagine anyone will be shocked to see the ice rink in the background of a few of the pictures, and it seemed only fitting. 

As usual, Maeve’s perfectly at ease in Mat’s arms, who’s beaming down at her, in your favorite shot of the afternoon, as you hang onto his arm gently to keep yourself upright, the same wide grin on your own face as you look at the two of them. There are so many other shots from the day- Mat skating while holding Maeve; the two of you laughing while you move easily on the ice; close ups of Maeve sleeping peacefully in Mat’s arms, just happy to be close to him (unless it’s the proximity to the ice- she is definitely his daughter). And then there’s all the candids.

“Some tough choices for the photo wall.” Molly muses.

“Gonna need lots of frames.” You agree, as the back door opens and Tito walks in, bouncing Maeve gently in his arms, closely followed by Mat and Brian. 

“Alright, patio’s done.”

“Perfect!” Molly claps her hands together and you give her a look because she sounds too excited. “Great timing.”

Tito huffs, still bouncing Maeve, who’s smiling away at him and probably going to start giggling at any minute. She’d laughed for the first time last week and it felt like since then, she hadn’t stopped. “We said we’d have it done in time, didn’t we?”

“In time for what?” You press, skeptically.

“Yes, “Molly ignores you completely. “But I honestly didn’t believe you.”

“Rude.” Brian teases. “The lack of faith.”

“Yeah.” Tito adds. “What’d we do to deserve this?”

“What are you three talking about?” Mat huffs, and you feel ten times better already that you’re not the only one left out.

“Oh!” Molly blinks, like it’s only just occurred to her that she hasn’t actually told you what’s going on yet. “Right. You two are going out tonight. We made you a dinner reservation and we’re going to stay here and babysit while you do.”

You hesitate, relieved that when you look over to meet Mat’s eyes, you see the same look. “I don’t know.”

“We’re not going to force you to go.” Brian says, before Molly or Tito can jump in, with what’s certain to be a much less soft comment. “We just thought you could use a couple hours out. Without having to worry.”

It’s not...the worst thought, if you’re honest, and you can see the idea growing on Mat as well. “I mean, we’re probably still going to worry.” He says, even as you can see him start to grin.

“What, now, you don’t trust me with your kid?” Tito says, feigning hurt. “And to think, I almost made godfather.”

“Because YN’s brother almost didn’t show up.” Mat throws back at him.

“Classic Christopher.” You grin at the memory of your brother literally running into the church last month for the baptism only just in time. 

“You two go get moving; we promise to take perfect care of your baby.” Molly says.

“Team Baby.” Tito sticks his free hand, the one not holding Maeve to his chest, into the center of the circle you’ve all formed, and stares at you all expectantly, until each one of you piles a hand on top of his. “Team Baby!” He cheers again, and then he steers Maeve over to her activity mat and lies down on the floor with her.

“Go.” Molly gestures and it doesn’t take much more for you and Mat to turn and start getting dressed because that’s her I mean business face. “Dress nice!” She calls after you. “Suit, tie, dress, heels. The works!”

“Where could they possibly be sending us?” Mat mutters as the two of you climb up the steps toward your room, and you hide your snicker much better than he does.

“Mathew!” Molly calls, warningly.

“First shower.” You call dibs to him, and rush past him for it, laughing at the look on his face.

While Mat showers after you, you fix your hair and makeup, and then step into your closet, already pulling a face at all your dresses before you even look at them. 

You’re starting to feel more like yourself after giving birth, finally, after three months, but you don’t feel completely there. You’re not sure you ever will, that’ll you’ll ever feel that easy and carefree again, or that you’ll ever look the same again, and you’ve talked with Grace and Lauren, and are coming to terms with it. Have come to terms with it, really. The trade-off for Maeve’s smiles made everything worth it.

But.

But you don’t have a single dress that fits the way you like now.

There are four dresses on the floor of your closet and at least five more that you couldn’t even bring yourself to try on before you find a charcoal colored slip dress that’s covered in a pattern of dark sequins. The strappy heels that go along with it are an old comfort; they, at least, still fit you.

Mat’s holding a tie up in the mirror when you come out of the closet, like he’s debating if he actually has to wear it, but the second he sees you through the glass, his eyes go wide and the tie drops from his hand.

“Now those hands aren’t going to earn you that new contract.” You tease, unable to handle the thick silence that’s fallen between you.

“What?” It’s like he didn’t even hear the joke; his eyes are roaming up and down. “Fuck. You want to skip dinner?”

You actually kinda do. You’d seen Mat leaving the old apartment all spring in a suit on his way to the airport or the arena, all the way up until they’d been eliminated, so maybe it was just the context of the evening, but he looked unreal tonight. You nod, but then immediately bite your lip...which just makes Mat groan. “They’re not going to let us just stay here, though.”

Mat grins, reaching for your hand. “Trust me on this.”

“I do.” You smile at him, squeezing gently in return,

And it takes the two of you almost thirty minutes to leave the house after that, despite the heated looks in your bedroom, because neither of you wants to leave Maeve again once you see her, but Molly shoves you out the door with threats about missing your reservation, and once the door’s closed, that’s all it takes for Mat to turn his gaze right back to you.

There is, blessedly, still furniture in his old apartment, still his as he continues to decide whether to sell it or rent it, and you’ve never been so thankful for his unusual moment of indecisiveness as he lies you down into his old bed, pressing kisses onto any spot of skin he can find.

-----

Four Months with Maeve: You Like: playing with your toes, sitting, laughing and babbling You Dislike: when anyone takes a toy from you

Expecting Mat, you’re a little surprised when you turn and see that the form that’s flopped down in the shade beside you and Maeve is actually Tyson. “How’s my best girl?” He coos at her, as entranced with her as anyone else has been since you and Mat had come up to Canada last week to see Mat’s family.

Maeve giggles, babbling some noises back at him, and reaching her hands out for his curls. “Don’t.” You warn him, but he’d learned that lesson already this week, and he intercepts her with his thumb instead, a wide grin on his face. “Sucker.” You tease.

“How can you say no to this face?” He cries and yeah, when she’s laughing and smiling like that, you can see what he means. Especially because it’s Mat’s smile she seems to have inherited, even if it looks like the rest of Maeve’s features might be all you.

“Mmmm, you get used to it.” You tell him anyway, and Tyson grins knowingly, so you close your eyes, relaxing in the sun for a moment, confident that someone is watching your baby and you can get a few minutes of rest.

It doesn’t last long, because shortly after closing your eyes, you feel something heavy and wet plaster itself to you and you open one eye to glare, which is as much as you can be bothered with out by the lake. “Mat!”

He’s already grinning down at you, water from the lake dripping from his face to yours. “You looked a little hot.”

“I was very comfortable.”

Mat lays his head down on your chest. “Well, now I’m very comfortable.”

“You are the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” You say, and you don’t need Tyson to laugh to know that you don’t sound serious at all.

“Liar.” Mat says, and you can feel him grinning against your skin. “You love me.”

You pause for a moment, unintentionally, as you move your hand up to play with his hair, but it’s long enough that you feel the smile start to slip from his face. “Yeah.” You tease. “I guess I do.” 

Mat’s grin returns and he presses the softest kiss to whatever piece of skin he can reach, but before he can say anything else, Maeve starts babbling away. “I know.” Tyson coos at her. “They’re so cute it’s disgusting.”

“Hey!” Mat frowns. “Let go of my baby so I can push you down.”

Tyson laughs. “Well thanks for that get out of jail free card!”

-----

Five Months of Maeve: You Like: hide and seek, bananas, applesauce You Dislike: peas (can’t blame you, kiddo)

“Do we really want to try peas again so soon?” You frown at Mat, holding up one of the other jars of baby food.

He shrugs. “Gonna have to jump back in eventually.”

You pull a face. “Spoken like the man who didn’t get puked on.”

“We get puked on like ten times a day!”

“It was green!”

He laughs. “I’ll do the peas this time.”

You laugh. Sucker. “Deal.”

It’s super gratifying then, to see that Maeve hates the peas this time just as much as she had before. She’s not about Mat’s airplane noises once she realizes what’s on the spoon he’s trying to feed her with and none of his usual tricks are working to try and calm her down once she starts crying. 

But when Mat looks at you for help, you don’t do anything but laugh, continuing to film the entire disastrous event. “Really?” He gives you a look.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” You fire the video off into, like, three different chats- the one with his family, to Team Baby, and the Islanders Moms chat, because he could probably use the ego deflation- and then reach for Maeve, who settles almost instantly against you, her crying quieting as you hold her against your side.

“Sure.” Mat grumbles, dropping the spoon against the high-chair’s table. “All calm now.”

“Oh hush.” You tell him, with a smile, knowing exactly what he’s annoyed about. “You’ll go back to being her favorite in an hour; don’t worry.”

Mat tries to hide his grin by ducking his head to clean the high-chair but you see right through him.

-----

Six Months of Maeve: You Like: bouncing, rolling, wiggling, literally any kind of movement You Dislike: teething (but we dislike you teething too), staying still

“I think she’s going to really start crawling soon.” You remark to Mat, the two of you both seated on the floor, opposite sides of the room, to catch her before she could wriggle into any walls.

She hadn’t quite pushed herself up there yet, but she scooted around pretty well.

“Don’t say that.” Mat groans, reaching out for Maeve and ignoring her cry of protest as he placed her back on the ground, safely away from the wall. She gave him a look, but then went right back to rolling around, rolling onto her back and then over to her stomach again, scooting toward you. “Fuck, imagine when she can walk. Chasing after her.”

“Inability to sit still for sure comes from you.” You try to distract Maeve with a toy, watching as she puts it in her mouth and starts to gnaw on it. Her first tooth had come in the other week, an absolute nightmare, and you were pretty sure another one was following. 

“Can’t prove that.” Mat says, eyes fond as he watches Maeve.

“Wanna bet?” You tease. That’s an easy phone call to make.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” Mat beams at you and you burst into laughter because you haven’t showered and you’re covered in baby formula.

“That’s what I thought.” You grin, and then reach out to pull Maeve away from the coffee table.

-----

Seven Months of Maeve: You Like: blocks, knocking down block towers, clapping blocks together, anything blocks You Dislike: noise-cancelling headphones

“These are so cute.” Grace beams, scrolling through the pictures on her phone and simultaneously bouncing a wriggly toddler on her lap. “I’ll send them out as soon as we get upstairs.”

You smile, thanking her already, fixing the earphone covering Maeve’s tiny head. It’s the Islanders’ home opener, Maeve’s first game actually attending, and there’d been a well-documented photo shoot with all the kids prior to the group of you heading down to the glass, to wait for warm ups to start. 

She wasn’t a big fan of the headphones you’d placed on her ears, constantly reaching up to bat them off, but she was looking around, eyes wide as she stared at the crowd around her, even after both teams skated out for warm ups, unable to grasp what exactly was happening.

But she was smiling, beaming the whole time, a grin that only got wider when Mat skated up to the glass in front of you and put his fist up against it. She reaches for it as you bring her closer to the glass, grabbing out for it as he taps it with a grin, and then she babbles a bunch of nonsense when she’s stopped by the glass, retracting her hand immediately.

You and Mat both laugh and he gives one last tap on the glass to you both before skating off to rejoin warm ups.

He absolutely lights it up that night, but the gifs of the the three of you at the glass during warmups cycle through the internet for days.

-----

8 Months of Maeve: You Like: your favorite blankie, Cheerios, cheese You Dislike: i really tried with those peas, kid

You’d do literally anything for some sleep right now, even just a power nap. Mat had been gone on a road trip for a few days now, due back shortly, but Maeve had been so clingy the entire time he was gone, not even wanting to be held by Molly when she’d stopped in to visit, and fussing anytime you’d walked away from her. 

She was playing with a couple of her toys on the floor right now, and it took everything in you to keep your eyes open to watch over her. You contemplated moving her into her bouncer, even as she kept side-eyeing you to make sure you were still close, just in case you accidentally dropped into a nap. 

Suddenly, an arm drops over your shoulders and Mat’s pressing a kiss to your temple. “You look sleepy.”

“I’m exhausted.” You lean against him immediately. “When did you get in?”

“Just now.” He squeezes gently, smiling and waving as Maeve, who’s abandoned her toy the moment she saw him, clapping her hands together and beaming at him, babbling at him happily. “She keeping you up at night?”

“She’s just…” You trail off, not sure how to describe what Maeve is right now. Because on one hand, she’s not normally this clingy, and it’s certainly a change of pace. But it’s not a bad thing to have her so close to you all the time, for her to want to be so close to you- you don’t dislike it at all. “I’m just tired.”

He presses another kiss to your forehead, but before he can say anything, Maeve reaches her arms out for him. “Da!” She’s frowning, probably because Mat’s been ignoring her in favor of you. “Dada!” She reaches out again, and this time Mat’s face lights up, both of yours do, as he sweeps her into his lap.

“Say it again!” Mat prompts, tickling her, which of course doesn’t get her to do anything but giggle.

“Dada.” You try, leaning closer, and she repeats it then, but won’t say it again, for all that Mat tries, struggling out of his arms right after that, to go back to playing.

Mat runs his fingers through his hair, looking absolutely floored, and you still haven’t stopped smiling either. Your baby’s first word! You have to tell everyone! But there’ll be time for that later; Mat’s comfy to lean against right now and he doesn’t look like he wants to go anywhere either, so you press a kiss to his cheek and then lie your head back against his shoulder, content to watch Maeve play with her blocks.

-----

9 Months of Maeve: You Like: walking, giving your mom and I heart attacks while walking You Dislike: sitting still for any length of time (stop laughing at me mom)

“You,” Mat sweeps Maeve off her feet and up into his arms as she toddles past him. “Went from walking to running in like two days! Give your mom and I a rest, kiddo.”

“She gets that from you.” You tell him, tiredly. He’s not wrong though. She’d started pulling herself into standing not long ago, and then shortly after, taken her first steps, and then it felt like the next day, she was off to the races. You spent most of your day chasing her around the house now; she almost never wanted to be picked up anymore.

Even now, she was squirming to get out of Mat’s arms and be back on the ground, already starting to whine about it. Mat obliges, and she takes off- or as well as she can; she hasn’t quite mastered it yet, her feet make that distinct slap noise on the floor that you associate with all babies walking. 

Mat chases and brings her back, but you two quickly have to settle each on one side of the room, eyes watching Maeve and turning her between the two of you. “She needs a friend.” You mutter, steering her back towards Mat, for what seems like the hundredth time in ten minutes.

Mat nods furiously. “Suddenly I understand why people have more than one of these.”

You burst into laughter, loud enough that it stops Maeve for a second. But only a second; she’s right back to toddling over toward you, throwing herself at you, giggling along with you for a moment there. “One of these?” You call Mat out, and he joins you in laughing, as Maeve uses your arm to pull herself back up and starts walking again.

Mat shrugs it off laughingly. “You know what I mean.”

You do. “God, I used to not even imagine being able to have another one of her, but god, if another one meant they could entertain each other; I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“I’d have five more if it meant we didn’t have to chase her like this.” Mat pulls Maeve back into the room, a small noise of protest coming from her until he puts her back on the floor.

You give him a look. “You can find someone else to have five more with.”

When Mat smiles at you, it’s softer, not his usual bright beam. “Alright.” He says. “We won’t have five more. Two or three more.” You side-eye him, trying to gauge how serious he is, but he must take your silence for agreement, because then he does beam.

-----

10 Months of Maeve: You Like: patty cake, waving, causing chaos You Dislike: bananas, apparently, even though you loved them last month

“Tito!” You gasp excitedly, only just remembering to pick Maeve up and bring her with you, ignoring her fuss in favor of Mat and Tito walking in the door with something much more exciting. “Why didn’t  you tell me you were getting a dog?”

Luckily, she’s easily swayed by the dog, eyeing the wriggling puppy in Tito’s arms. She still doesn’t look like she’s 100% certain about it, but it certainly captures her attention; she stops moving in your arms entirely, blinking at the dog, unmoving.

“Uhhh.” Tito says, in response to you, looking at Mat and then back at you. “Not exactly what happened.”

Mat grins. “So you wanted a dog, right?”

Your jaw drops and the next words are out before you can even think about stopping them. “Shut the fuck up.” And then you immediately wince, because you’ve been on Mat recently about watching his language around Maeve, who’s soaking up words now like an absolute sponge. 

But Mat only laughs, reaching to pull the puppy into his arms, and stepping closer to you and Maeve slowly. “Her name’s Blue, but we can change it.”

“Boo!” Maeve repeats, which really ices the cake on that one, and brings a smile to both of your faces. She’s reaching out for the puppy as Mat steps closer, and you prepare yourself for the worst, but Maeve bursts into happy giggles the second her hand touches the puppy.

Blue sniffs her tiny little hand tentatively, and then licks it happy, and Maeve giggles even harder as she does. “I might cry.” You announce. “This is the greatest day. I thought you’d never cave.”

Tito snickers. “He was worried he’d come home one day and you’d brought a stray home.”

“I considered it.”

“Thought this was better.” Mat agrees. “At least I got to screen for a good one.”

“All dogs are good dogs.” You state firmly. “Let’s put her down and let her explore a little.”

“Come on, Menace.” Mat takes Maeve from your arms, who goes happily, reaching for his hair as she does, but you’ve both caught onto the move by now, so he intercepts her hand with his thumb. “Let’s go follow your new best friend.”

-----

11 Months of Maeve: You Like: baby dolls, baby doll stroller, your fancy new cup, Blue You Dislike: puzzles- you’re not really about toys you sit for anymore

“How soon,” Mat starts one night, when you’re getting ready for bed, both child and dog already asleep in crib and crate from an exhausting evening of playtime. “Is too soon, do you think, to bring Maeve out for a skate?”

You’ve got a mouth full of toothpaste, but you think you still manage to convey what you want with a look. “You’re asking me this question?”

“Good point.” You rinse your mouth out and join Mat in bed. “Maybe we’ll start with mini-sticks and a soft ball.”

You burst into laughter. “You think she’s ready for that?”

“Oh she’s got this walking thing down now.” He brushes that off. “My girl’s an expert.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, we knew that was coming.”

Mat grins. “Work on that hand eye coordination now.”

You give him a look, trying to decide how serious he is, and then when deciding that he’s absolutely 100% serious, you press a kiss to his shoulder-the nearest spot of him that you can reach. “Please don’t kill our baby.”

Mat’s already scooting in closer to you, already half asleep because this asshole somehow manages to fall asleep like the second his head hits the pillow basically, and he throws an arm over your waist. “Mmm, kay, promise.”

-----

It was a mistake to sit down, you knew that before you even did it, but you’re exhausted from the day. Between spending your morning getting ready for Maeve’s birthday party, playing hostess throughout the afternoon, and then starting the clean-up process, you honestly think you could fall asleep right here against this wall that you’re leaning against.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you slip it out-it’s another message from Molly, probably just more pictures that she took throughout the afternoon-but it’s the instagram tag from Mat that really catches your attention.

The app opens to a picture of the two of you standing on either side of Maeve and her smash cake, both wearing happy parent smiles, as her hand brings another fist of icing to an already-covered face. There’s a picture with the three of you standing with his parents and sister; another with Maeve, Tito, Molly, and Brian; and the last one, just you and Maeve, sitting on the floor and her trying to play with the party hat Molly had put on your head, right after you’d fixed the bow on her headband.

1 Year of Maeve: Happy Birthday to our favorite girl! It’s been an entire year with you already and your mom and I can’t wait to see what comes in the next one

You can’t help but smile at both the caption and the pictures, unable to settle on one and still scrolling through the post when you feel Mat sit down next to you. “Somebody’s getting sleepy.”

The same dopey, fond smile is definitely still on your face as you turn to look at Mat and Maeve, who’s curled in his arms in a way she only does now when she’s absolutely exhausted. But she’s fighting it for sure, eyes fluttering shut and then popping back open again. “Big day.” You agree with him. “And it was a nice day. But I’m happy it’s just us now.”

“Yeah.” Mat says, and it almost sounds like his thoughts are completely in another place for a second as he shifts around on the floor for a second. “It was a great day.” It was; it truly was, and even though there’s still a mess to be cleaned, you’re perfectly content to just sit here for a while longer with Mat and Maeve. When he settles, you lean your head against his shoulder, reaching your hand out to rest it on Maeve’s tiny little wrist. “Hey.” Mat says gently.

“Hmm?”

“Marry me?”

“What?” You laugh, until he brings a hand out to you and opens his fist to show off a diamond ring, and then suddenly you’re not laughing at all. “Oh my god.”

“I just-I want a million more days like this with you,” Mat smiles. “I want forever like that. Marry me.”

“Yes.” You breathe. “Yes, god yes, of course.”

And immediately, Mat’s kissing you, or well, trying to, because you’re smiling and kind of crying, and he’s still holding Maeve in his arms, so you both pull away pretty quickly. “I love you. God, I know I don’t tell you that enough, but I do. So much. It-”

“I love you too.” You cut him off. “I really can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

Mat beams at you and you reach your left hand out, biting your lip to avoid giggling as he fumbles a little, one-handedly sliding the ring onto it. But he succeeds, and you admire the ring on your finger, as you lean back against Mat’s shoulder.

The silence that follows is comfortable; the only sound the slight wheeze of Maeve’s breathing. “I think she’s finally out.” Mat says quietly, after a moment. “I’ll take her up?”

“Nah.” You clutch at his arm. “Just-let’s just stay here for a while.”

Mat smiles against the side of your head before he kisses it gently. “Okay.” He kisses it again. “But you know you’re stuck with me forever now, right? Not going anywhere.”

You squeeze his arm. “Not stuck.” Mat beams. “Well, I guess I might feel differently in a month or two.”

“Brat.” Mat says fondly. 

“Yup.” You grin and then throw his own words right back at him. “But you’re stuck with me forever now.”

“Never stuck.” Mat says, and it sounds like such a promise that you can’t help but lean over and try to kiss him again.

[daydreamingintheimpalax]

Four No’s and a Yes.

Prompt: Write about someone who gets proposed to five times on Christmas Eve.

Warnings: None, cuteness, fluff i guess lol

Dean x Reader (Childhood friends)

Chritsmas Eve 2016.

The Y/L/N’s house was decorated to the T, Mrs. Y/L/N always went all out for Christmas and to say Dean loved it was an understatement. Dean had grown up next door to y/n and her family all his life, every Christmas was spent with his best friend and her family, their families took turns every year on which family would host the big Christmas dinner. It was Christmas eve, this year, Y/n’s family was hosting Christmas Eve and Day. 

He watched as you sat down across from him, the same way you did every year, this time your boyfriend of almost a year sitting next to you. Dean frowned but for the most part accepted him and tried to make Carl as welcome as possible. 

It’s not that he disliked the guys she dated, he just never thought they were good enough for his best friend, it had nothing to do with the fact he’d been inlove wih you almost all his life, despite what Sam and his parents had to say about it. 

The meal conversations began, Dean smiled as he watched Sam’s wife wipe a smudge of food off his brothers face before then placing a small peck on his cheek. He was imsensely happy for his little brother, he had tried to find love himself but despite all the girls that came and went, none were ever good enough to bring home to Mary and John, none ever compared to, well, you. 

“So Dee, any news about that girl you took out last week? She seemed nice.” You ask, shoving a fork of ham into your mouth, he chuckles watching before he replies, “uh no, didn’t pan out, first date and she was already naming our kids.” He shakes his head, cringing. Y/N makes a funny grossed out face, “Yikes, stage 5 clinger”, Dean smirks, “Exactly, not my style, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” Carl pipes up, raising an eyebrow at Dean. Right, Carl hated when Dean called you by a pet name, sucks for him doesn’t it. Dean shrugs, y/n reassures him its just for fun, that they’ve been friends forever and Dean’s the only other man allowed to call her that. Carl doesn’t seem happy but strugs it off. 

It’s almost 9 Pm when Carl speaks, he stands up from the tables, everyone having had a few rounds of wine by now and 50 conversations going on at once. He clears his troat, tapping his champagne glass with his fork, everyone stops, their attention on him. 

“Well, this has been an amazing night, y/n your family is incredible, i’m so happy to have shared this holiday with you all, but tonight, i want to share another moment with you guys, i know how important family is to y/n and i want to make sure i do this right.” He pauses, grabbing y/n’s hand and pulling her up, Dean can see the look on her face, shes shocked and confused, not sure what the hell Carl thinks he’s doing. 

He pulls something out of his pocket, Dean lets out a soft groan before taking a huge chug of his beer, Sam pats his back, a silent signal asking if he’s okay. He shrugs it off. 

“Y/n, i know we haven’t been together as long as other people, but my love for you has no limits, we are a perfect match and you’re a perfect part of me, you make me better, i love you so much, and i don’t want to waste anymore time,” 

He gets down on one knee, Dean watches, slightly angrily as y/n gasps, she slightly looks at Dean and he can see the panicked look on her face, she’s not ready for this, he’s ambushed her. 

“Y/n Y/l/n, would you do me the honor of being my wife, my partner in crime, my forever.” Dean rolls his eyes, his mother swatting his arm and giving him a disapproving look. Y/n stays silent, looking around as everyone watches her, Then, she bolts. 

Dean chases after her to see if she’s okay. 

Carl was never seen again after that night.

Christmas Eve 2017

Christmas was different this year, Their parents had decided they wanted a break from cooking, so they had booked a cruise for vacation, not telling any of their kids until last minute. 

Sam and Jess had decided to have Christmas with her family now that they were expecting their first child. Sam was over the moon at the chance to be a dad, he was going to be an amazing one. 

Dean checks the tickets, finding the seats and throwing the jackets over them, y/n heads towards him, sitting next to him in her own seat and she hands him his beer and the hotdogs she grabbed. Dean was lucky he booked last minute tickets to the wrestling match, not surprised that even on Christmas eve, the stadium was booked solid. 

They enjoy the fights, they’re small local fights, no big names, but they both enjoy it, laughing and enjoying their time together as best friends, it’s been a while. Since she started dating Max four months ago, he barely sees her, he’s insecure, especially when Dean’s around, probably because Dean’s twice his size in height and muscle, but that’s not his problem. Max starts fights with y/n anytime they hang out, so for her sake, he keeps his distance, waiting for her to call him for a hangout instead. 

An hour in and it’s break time, they sit and chat, and before they know it, a voice is speaking over the PA system. “Sorry to interupt everyone, but since we are on a break, it seems like the perfect time to do this. Y/n Y/l/N, if you wouldn’t mind looking up at the jumbotron, we have a message for you from Max.” 

Y/n’s eyes go wide, she looks at Dean curiously and he shrugs, just as confused. She looks at the screen, Max’s smiling face on the screen as he’s handed the microphone. 

“Y/n, i know this is random and out of the blue, but you make me really happy, i know you’re not big on attention and big romantic gestures, but i wanted to do something memorable, so, i was hoping you’d be down for being my wife, will you Marry me?” he speaks, Dean almost can’t believe it, what was with these losers, she deserved to be proposed to, but not so soon and definitely not on the spot, she hated grand gestures that drew attention to her. Y/n barely knew what she wanted to do with her life, let alone to settle down. 

Y/N starts breathing heavy, tears forming as she starts to panic at the whole stadium now staring at her and waiting for her answer, and just like that, yet again, she tries to run but Dean stops her, suggesting they go outside and talk to Max privately before she has a complete anxiety attack.

Another douchebag he never sees again. 

Christmas Eve 2018

Another year, another Christmas Eve, y/n is sitting on Deans couch, the two of them got stuck at the airport due to a snow storm and aren’t making it home for Christmas. They had driven back to Dean’s place and she decided to crash with him, She’d just broken up with her recent douchebag boyfriend and wasn’t in happy spirits. She lies on his couch, sniffling as she watches her favoirte Christmas movie, which is currently everything on the hallmark channel. 

Dean sits next to her, her feet in his lap as he messages her feet, warming them up from the cold. 

“Am i ever going to find the right guy? i mean, at this point it’s become a pattern, every fucking Christmas i end up single and alone, i should just give up finding the perfect guy.” She shrugs, wiping away a stray tear.

Dean sighs, “First off, you’re not alone, you have me. Second, you pick crappy guys, you have shitty ass taste. Give it time, sweetheart, the perfect guy for you is out there, and you’ll find him, you’re just looking in the wrong places.” Dean assures her and she gives him a dry chuckle.

“Oh yea, well if you ever come across prince charming, send him my way.” She rolls her eyes and he laughs. He hates seeing her upset. 

Theyre at the local skating rink when it happens, he finally got her to stop crying enough to take her out and here comes Jack, Jake, Joke, whatever the fuck his name was holding a bouquet of roses and a ring box, smiling widely at her, this jackass really thinks a ring will fix everything he’s done to her. What a damn clown. 

Y/n stops abrutly, eyeing him up and down, she’s definitely angry still. 

“That better not be what the fuck i think it is.” She snaps, tossing the roses in the trash. “Y/n, i know i fucked up, but you’re worth more than-” He’s cut off by the sound of her hand meeting his cheek. 

“NO!” She shouts, a few people now stopping to watch. “You have some NERVE showing up here, after cheating on me and for what? to propose? ARE YOU FUCKING DRUNK? In what fucking small minded universe that you live in do you think proposing to me is going to fix what you broke? No, i will not marry you. Go to hell, Jeff.” She stomps off, as good as she can in skates. 

Jeff, that’s his fucking name. He looks over at me and i shrug. “You fucked that up on your own man, you don’t deserve her.” Dean walks away.

She never mentions Jeff again.

Christmas Eve 2019

Their families get together again, Dean’s family hosts this year, y/n and he had flown home early this year to help with the food and decorations, y/n had run into one of her exes, a guy she dated back in highschool, He’d ran in Sam’s circle of friends, one of his old football buddies. They had gone on a date to catch up, ending up at the local bar with some old highschool friends.

Sam sits next to him, downing his own beer. “Man, why don’t you just tell her you’re her prince charming, watching her get with and dump all these idiots is getting tiring. Even mom and dad know you two belong together.” Sam chuckles, letting out a burp, he’s clearly borderlining between drunk and tipsy. Dean sighs, he’s going to have to call Jessica soon. 

“If i was her soulmate, she’d have noticed by now. I’m not going to make that choice for her. If it’s meant to be, she’ll realize it on her own, not because i forced her to like me.” He shrugs and Sam laughs, “You’re both so stupid.” Sam huffs and shakes his head. 

Before Sam can continue pestering him about his failure to woo Y/n, they hear a commotion, they turn to see Eric covered in beer, calling y/n a bitch and some other not nice words. 

Dean gets protective, not even a split second before he’s standing next to her, shoving Eric away from her. “Easy man, get away from her.” He yells and Eric huffs, throwing his arms in the air, “Whatever, you’re a waste of time, can’t believe i ever dated you, i forgot what it was like being with you.” He snarls before stepping outside, no doubt to light up another blunt. 

Dean frowns, “What happened?” he asks and you laugh. “He proposed, said he missed me and regretted ever breaking things off, said he finally realized i was the one that got away.” She airquotes before she sips her beer, huffing, “Turns out, that’s his game, he was hoping if i said yes i’d be over the moon and jump into bed with him again. Ugh, i hate men.” she grunts before walking out, Dean slaps a few bills on her table before going after her, a semi drunk Sam at his side. 

Chritmas Eve 2020

Christmas Eve dinner is a hit. Changing things up, Dean and Y/n had decided to host this year, flying their families out to vancouver. It’s cold and snowy, but makes Christmas actually feel like Christmas, unlike the warm sunny holiday in california, they love it there, but this year, with the snow, it actually feels like a real Christmas. 

They sit out on the back deck, taking a break from the family game night and friendly comeptition and yelling going on inside. Their families are nuts, but it always makes for a great time. 

Dean’s sure he’s ready, she hasn’t dated anyone since the last proposal, and he’s insane, he’s sure of it, he’s sure just like the others, he’ll be turned down, and he’s willing to make an utter fool of himself, but it’s time, he’s waited long enough, he needs her to know, he needs to tell her, he’ll never be able to truly move on and get over her if he doesn’t at least get an answer on wether she feels the same. 

“How long do you think that bingo game is going to last?” She asks, chuckling and she watches their families fight over who had bingo first. 

“Marry me.” He blurts it out without even realizing it. That’s not how he wanted that whole thing to go, he had planned it out, but plans go out the window when you spend time obsessing on things being perfect.

“What?” She’s stunned, but she hasn’t run away yet, and she’s not hyperventilating, that’s a good sign. He begins to babble like a damn idiot.

“I don’t have a ring, or a proper set up like a jumbotron or some shit, and this isn’t even how i planned on this day going, i’m not perfect, and i have my flaws, hell i’m so fucked up i’d be insane to think i even deserve even half your love, but i’m crazy about you, and i have been since 5th grade, when you gave me my first valentines card because no one in class gave me one and then kissed my cheek and told me you’d always be my valentine. I guess, what i’m trying to say is i may not be your prince charming, but you’ve always been my girl, i’ve never chosen anyone but you, and i realize, i don’t ever want anyone, except you.” He finally takes a breath, too scared to make eye contact, and he sighs.

“I know this is stupid and random and you can totally say no or run away if th-” 

“Yes.” She stuns him, completely silencing his rant.

He finally meets her eyes, “What?” He asks, sure as shit he heard her wrong. 

“Yes, Winchester, i’ll marry you.” She says, this time clear as day. 

He huffs out a laugh, “ Wait, seriously?” he asks, stunned and still thinking she has to be fucking with him.

She shrugs and smiles, “Yeah, I’ve known you all my life, you were always my prince charming, my perfect match, i was just waiting for you to figure it out.” She laughs. Dean’s eyes roam her face, for the first time, seeing how perfect she really is for him. 

“I literally could have been with you this entire time?” he raises and eyebrow and she shrugs, smiling. He shakes his head, not believing his own stupidity before he takes full advatnge, leaning in and finally claiming what’s been his this entire time. 

Safe to say, that was the last proposal she ever recieved. 

[lightsupinthenorth]

Harringrove teachers AU part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 

Thank you to everyone who read, liked and/or reblogged the previous parts. Also, the people who said something nice in the tags or in reactions own my heart. Just thought you should know ;) <3 

Tag list: @twoprettyboys, @inkedplume​, @marianaosborne​, @liglitterbug​, @hmg621 @spreckle @goldenweatherharringrove @yikesharringrove @yogurtfordinner @wingedbears @charlotte-frey @hargrovesharrington​

If anyone wants to be added to or taken off the tag list for the future posts of this AU, let me know ;)

I hope the tags are working because I recently had some trouble with them (ah, Tumblr is a mess). 

I was planning on keeping the chapters short but every part has been longer than the last so far ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (then again, it’s still pretty short so I guess it’s fine ^^). 

I’ll stop rambling now.

*

Billy didn’t know how he had ended up in this situation, this situation being Steve and he making out in the otherwise empty teachers’ lounge, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He wanted to keep Steve’s soft lips on his forever. Sadly, he didn’t get his way: there was a loud bang, and suddenly Steve’s lips were gone. Steve was gone too, as well as the teachers’ lounge. Billy woke up at home, in his bed, hard as a rock in the basket-ball shorts he was wearing as pajamas.

Great, he got an erection just from dreaming he and Steve were kissing. What was he? A teenager? That was pathetic.

Billy was considering rubbing one out, despite the embarrassment, but there was another loud bang that made him remember why he had woken up in the first place.

What the fuck was happening this early on a Saturday?

Billy instantly worried Max had fallen or, worse, that someone had broken into the flat and would hurt her (highly improbable in such a small town, but Billy wasn’t alert enough to be logical). The concern killed his arousal in two seconds tops. He shot up from bed and exited his bedroom in a hurry.

He found Max in their open kitchen, mixing what appeared to be pancakes ingredients.

“What was that noise?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting.  

“I dropped the pan. Sorry.”

“There were two noises.”

“I dropped the mixing bowl too. Let me live! It’s your fault, you stored both these things on the highest shelf” Max complained.

“Hey, no need for a defense, I’m not accusing you. I was just worried, shitbird.”

“Oh… well, I’m okay.”

“And you’re making pancakes, so I’m certainly not going to complain.” Billy added.

“Who told you I was making some for you?”

Billy pouted, even though he knew Max was bluffing. He could see the amount of batter in the mixing bowl. She had quite an appetite, but there was no way she’d be able to eat all of that on her own.

“So mean, so early in the morning.”

“What can I say, I love messing with you.”  

Paradoxically, Billy was happy that she did. When they had first met, he’d been a perpetually angry teenager, and teeny tiny Max had done everything she could to stay out of his way. Once Susan had announced she was ill, though, Billy had tried his hardest to be the brother Max deserved. After Susan’s death, Billy had looked after Max and kept her safe from his father until he had turned legal. He had then fought to get Max away from Neil and had obtained full custody of her.  

It had been hard to balance getting his degree, working part-time jobs, and taking care of Max. Even more so with Neil trying to steer trouble every now and again. But they had made it out alright, in the hand, and Billy didn’t regret a second of it.

“Sit your ass down.” Max said as she turned the stove on.

“Oh no, no way. You ‘sit your ass down’. I’ll take it from here.”

Max was good at finding the best recipes and at mixing ingredients, but the cooking process was another thing entirely: she had nearly burned the kitchen down almost every time she had tried using the oven or the stove. Her cooking privileges had been revoked after the fifth time.

“Ugh, fine.”

Billy had two plates full on pancakes in no time. He put one in front of Max and went to sit down with his own on the other side of the table. The second his ass touched his chair, Max asked:

“So, you have plans with Steve and Robin this afternoon?”

Billy frowned.

“First of all, it’s Mrs. Buckley and Mr. Harrington for you”, he started, just to get on her nerves (he didn’t give a fuck how she called her teachers), “and second, how do you know that?”

Max arched an eyebrow.

“You literally talked about it with Steve right in front of me yesterday”, she said, ignoring Billy’s reprimand (no surprise, there).

“Oh… right… I did.”

Truthfully, Billy had stopped paying attention to Max and El the second he had laid eyes on Steve and the dumb spot of blue paint that had been resting on his cheek as if it had any right to.

“So, what are you guys going to do?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re going to grade papers.”

“Well, that’s exciting.”

Her sarcasm was off the charts.

“Tell me about it”, Billy mumbled, around a mouthful of pancake.

“Ew, gross.”

Billy stuffed even more pancake into his mouth, in defiance, before he spoke again:

“So, Art club, uh? What’s up with that?”

They hadn’t had an opportunity to talk about it the day before, because Friday night was movie night, and they had eaten dinner in front of the tv. Plus, Billy would have been too distracted to hold a conversation (Steve hadn’t left his mind).

“Steve said I should come. He noticed I haven’t been speaking to a lot of people, and he said it might help to do an activity in a smaller group…” Max wasn’t looking at Billy as she explained.

“Anyway, I think he was right. He’s the best!” She beamed as she said it, finally looking up from her slowly but surely diminishing pile of pancakes.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

Billy was glad, really. He was also a bit frustrated that Steve had managed to talk to Max about making friends, when Billy hadn’t known how to bring it up without offending her, but he wasn’t petty enough to show he had a problem with it. Even if Max calling Steve “the best” was treason of the highest order, Billy just wanted her to be happy. If Steve’s intervention helped more than Billy himself could, then so be it.

They finished breakfast, got ready for the day and then went grocery shopping. As they got back to the flat, Max went to her room to chill, and Billy read for a while before he started preparing lunch. Keeping busy distracted him from thinking about seeing Steve in the afternoon. Well, he didn’t think about it too much, at least.

-

When Billy made his way into the coffee shop, Steve and Robin were already seated, talking animatedly… in another language.

“Hi. Was that Italian?”

They must not have noticed him approaching, because as soon as he greeted them, they stopped talking, and Steve looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hey Billy”, Robin said, “as a matter of fact, it was.”

“Don’t you teach French and Spanish?”

Billy was perplexed.

“I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t speak Italian.”

“It figures”, Billy shrugged.

He wanted to ask Steve where he had learnt Italian, because it intrigued him. However, he chose not to. He didn’t want to talk to him unless it was necessary. It’d be better for everyone if they had the bare minimum of interactions together, surely.

“Are these new piercings?” Robin asked, gesturing toward his ears.

“Uh, no. I’ve had them for a long time. I just don’t wear them at school.”

“Well, you should. They look really cool, and I’m sure no one would have anything to say about it.”

Billy stared at Steve pointedly, but Steve looked away as soon as he caught his gaze.

“I’ll think about it.” Billy finally said.

Steve and Robin already had their orders, so Billy took his wallet from his bag and went to the counter. He glanced at the display case and eyed the cherry pie with envy, but decided against it. After this morning’s pancakes, it wouldn’t be reasonable. Plus, he hadn’t hit the gym in a few days. He had to start indulging less if he wanted to stay in shape. He went for a simple black coffee. As the burly man behind the counter, whom Billy guessed to be Benny, asked him if he wanted anything else, Billy nearly surrendered, but he powered through. He handed Benny a ten-dollar bill and put the change he was given in one of his pockets.

When Billy went back to their table with his cup of coffee, Steve was blowing on his cup of steaming hot tea. Billy’s eyes caught on the ‘o’ shape of Steve’s lips, which reminded him of his dream. He averted his eyes, praying to God he wasn’t blushing, now that he couldn’t hide it behind his tan anymore (screw Hawkins, Indiana).

As Billy sat down, he noticed Steve had a piece of the pie he’d been eyeing. Not fair. He nearly started pouting but caught himself. After all, his pie-less state was his own fault. Why did he have to be reasonable?

Billy took his pen and the essays he had to grade out of his backpack to give himself something to focus on. But then Steve started eating. And he moaned. Quite obscenely.

“Mh, this is so good. Benny is a magician. You guys want a bite?”

Billy really wanted to say yes, not only because he wanted pie, but because Steve was the one offering. It would have been weird, though? Right?

“No thanks” he ended up saying. What a hard thing to say.

Robin had no such qualms. She needn’t have, since she and Steve were actually friends. Not only did she get to experience Steve warmth and kindness, she also got a bite of his pie. Did she even know how lucky she was?

Billy got into his grading. And he was already past the no-pouting stage of the afternoon. It sucked to be him, sometimes.

“You should probably wait for Steve to finish eating… and drinking too, to be honest, before you put your students’ paper on the table. That man is a disaster.”

Billy had to admit Robin was right. He ate lunch with Steve on a regular basis, and had therefore seen him spill a bunch of things on himself. Thankfully, nothing he had ever spilled had reached Billy, so they were probably safe.

“Oh come on! We’re on opposite ends of the table.” Steve objected.

“I know, but I’m sure you’d find a way.”

Steve scoffed but didn’t try to argue his case any further. He looked adorably ruffled when Robin laughed at his expanse.

They didn’t say anything more for a while, as they were finally doing what they had come here to do. At some point, though, Robin brought up a point one of her students had made about the French translation of “Newspeak” in George Orwell’s 1984, which led her and Billy to launch a discussion about the novel.

Steve offered no input whatsoever, but he had stopped grading and had been staring at them for five minutes straight.

It was making Billy’s skin itch.

At some point, he couldn’t take it anymore and asked:

“What’s your opinion Steve?”

“Uh… I… I don’t really have one.” He stammered, caught off guard.

“How come?”

“I, uh, I haven’t actually read the book.”

“Oh. Well, you should. It’s an amazing book.”

Steve fidgeted with his red pen, repeatedly taking the cap off and then putting it back on.

“Uh… I don’t know about that. It’s not really my thing.”

“How can you know it’s not your thing if you haven’t read it?” Billy asked, a tad defensively.

“I didn’t mean the book… I meant, reading.”

Steve bit his lower lip.

“Why not? Is that beneath a math buff such as yourself, or something?” Billy’s tone had become hostile.

And, by pulling accusations out of his ass like that, he had gone from defensive to straight up aggressive.

“No. ‘course not… It’s just… reading is hard for me… I’m, uh… I’m dyslexic, so…” Steve trailed off, looking down at the pen he was seemingly holding in a vice grip.

Billy was speechless with shame and regret, as Steve offered a wobbly smile and said: “I’m gonna… go get some more tea”, before leaving the table.

Billy stared at his retreating form before he turned to Robin and found her glaring at him. If he could have felt worse than he already did, he would have.

“So… should I go apologize right now or should I leave him alone and apologize later?”

Teenage Billy would have probably not apologized at all, but present-time Billy knew better. He felt like the biggest jerk.

“I’d say, go for it.”

Billy followed Robin’s advice and, with knots in his stomach, he went to Steve, who was waiting for his tea behind the counter.

“Steve, man… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…” Steve said, but his eyes didn’t leave his own shoes.

That wouldn’t do. Billy had made Steve feel shitty, and he would make it better if it were the last thing he did.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Billy had let his frustration with Steve get the better of him, and that was unacceptable. Steve was not particularly nice to him, so what? It wasn’t a reason to be outright mean to the guy.

“Really, it’s no big deal… It’s not like it’s a secret… my dyslexia, I mean.”

“Yeah, but you obviously didn’t want to share this piece of info with me, and I should have dropped it.”

“I just… I was afraid you’d find me stupid… But you probably thought I was stupid already, anyway… what with me never having anything interesting to say when Robin and you talk about literature.”

“Hey, I don’t…”

Benny placed Steve’s cup of tea on the counter, cutting Billy mid-sentence.

“It’s on me”, Billy said, fishing his five-dollar bill of change out of his jean’s back pocket and handing it to Benny.

“You didn’t have to.”

Was Steve blushing or was it a trick of the light?

“I want to make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up for, but thanks.”

Steve grabbed his cup of tea and was going to go back to their table, but Billy held him back.

“Wait… I want you to know I don’t find you stupid, okay? I know I’m kind of a jackass, but not enough of one to actually think dyslexic people are stupid.”

“Good to know”, Steve replied.

“So, are we good?”

“I told you, we are.” Steve assured, smiling brighter than he had ever smiled at Billy before.

The knots in Billy’s stomach loosened, and his heart filled with warmth. So that was how it felt, when Steve’s sunshine fell upon you? Billy couldn’t wait to experience that feeling again.

“We should get back to Robin.”

“We should” Billy echoed, before following Steve, awestruck.

[zmediaoutlet]

have a cigar

new fic for the Sunday Morning Porn Club; having some s2 feels and thinking about how big and wild and uncertain Sam was in those early days. But also thinking about porn.

title: have a cigar pairing: Sam/Dean rating: E length: 5500 words tags: Season/Series 02, New Relationship, slight D/s, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Post-Episode: s02e05 Simon Said            

summary: What happened with Andy and Ansem unsettles Sam. Dean doesn't seem worried.

(read on AO3)

They’re over the state border from Oklahoma into Kansas when Dean indicates that he’s getting off the highway. Sam looks up at the sound of the blinker, looks around. "What, gas?" he says. They’re not that far out from Guthrie, so unless Dean has to pee—

"Nah, we’ve still got a hundred miles left in the tank," Dean says, rolling the car smoothly onto the offramp. Wellington, Kansas: population 8,105, and exactly no reason for them to be stopping. Sam frowns across the bench and Dean glances at him, and then rolls his eyes. "Jeez. A guy can’t want a break? We were up all night, man, dealing with the psychic twins. Plus you got a head injury. Sue me, I’m taking a minute."

"It's not really a head injury," Sam says. Kansas outside the car windows—mid-morning, green. "We told Ellen we’d be right there." He rubs his hand under the edge of his cast, rolling the tendons under his thumb. "What if she’s got a case or something?"

"Then it can wait half a day," Dean says, and it’s a little louder than it needs to be. He’s got a grip at ten-and-two, his jaw square. Sam looks at him and hears his voice in a perfect echo, saying you’re all part of something that’s terrible, and he bites the inside of his cheek so hard that it throbs but he doesn’t say anything, after that.

Outskirts of towns tend to look the same. Truckstop, motel attached. A McDonald’s. Dean pilots them to a vaguely dirty Mexican place that looks like it last had its decor updated in 1987, and when they’re at the dented formica table with their plastic menus Dean lets out a sigh that sounds like it came from his feet. "You think they’d give me a margarita at, uh, 11:32 in the morning?" he says.

He does look tired. Sam sucks the sore inside of his cheek. "Probably goes great with huevos rancheros," he says, and gets Dean to smile at him, so—all right. A little break.

The food’s bland, given the cornfields all around, but comforting too. They don’t talk much. Dean looks over a copy of the Wichita Eagle that someone left behind, in some obituary-scanning reflex; Sam swirls his fork through his larded refried beans and looks out the window, thinking. Andy, and Ansem. Brothers, though Andy didn’t know it until it was too late, and Ansem went bad but Andy—

Dean knocks his boot into Sam’s ankle, and Sam flinches but when he refocuses Dean’s looking at him, kinda soft. Kinda not soft. Kinda defiant, in that weird way that he’s started to do, and Sam feels heat rush into his cheeks, seeing. Dean smiles like he won something, even if his ears go pink, too, and he wipes his mouth with the balled napkin and says, "I’m going to the can," and Sam says, "Oh, great, thanks for the update," because they are brothers, and Dean smirks and walks off with a kind-of swagger and it’s not Sam’s fault that that calls attention to the shape of his ass, but Sam’s looking, either way.

The waitress offers more iced tea, when Dean’s gone. "No, gracias," Sam says. She raises her eyebrows a little but puts down the check. Sam leans back in the booth, spinning his unused knife as best he can in his busted hand, looking again out the window. Trucks, and a cornfield, and blue skies. Plain and familiar, and if he tries to imagine a demon coming here, a darkness swarming over it, somehow it just—doesn’t compute. But there was Andy, and Ansem, just a hundred miles south of here in an easy calm town that had no idea what was coming, and they brought murder with them. Killers, and freaks, and the town and its people hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve it.

"What, you forget how to pay a tab?"

Sam jerks, brought back to earth. Dean’s standing slouched, one hip leaning on the table, rifling through his wallet.

"Swear, you’re a lousy date," Dean says, dropping a pile of cash onto the little plastic tray, but he’s got a smile threatening, tucked into the corners of his mouth, and Sam’s—god, he didn’t know it could—this is—different.

A motel. Corn-themed. "Real original, huh?" Dean says, under his breath, but he gets them a room, and when they’re inside with two queens and steady A/C and the shades pulled, leaving them in privacy, he drops his bag on the closer bed and looks at Sam sidelong and says, "I’m gonna shower first, ‘kay."

The bathroom door closes before Sam can say a thing. He blows out the breath stuck in his chest and sticks out the Privacy Please tag, and then he sits on the end of the bed he guesses is his, and looks at the bathroom where the shower’s hissed on, the pipes clanking inside the walls.

Not so—obvious, usually. They’ve only been—it’s been like this, between them, for—what, a few months. Barely. Since Dad, and the brutal weeks after it, and a weird raw conversation in pre-dawn light that led to Sam putting his hand on Dean’s face and Dean snarling and then practically shoving him onto his back, and—

It’s new. Dean seems to seesaw back and forth between pretending like it doesn't exist, in the light of day, and a raw grasping want that kind of scares Sam, even if it's maybe the hottest thing that's ever happened to him. No one he's ever been with has wanted him this much. He's never wanted it this much.

He washes his face in the sink. When he pushes the damp edges of his hair back he looks—okay. A little tired, but decent. His head does hurt, actually, where Tracy tried to brain him. Where she was forced to.

Sam closes his eyes. Jesus, he is tired. And—pissed off, too. When he thinks about it. Freaks, all of them, and Sam's got the visions and the migraines and this horrible feeling in his gut like something's gonna happen, some tidal wave of shit that's going to crest the horizon, and he's not going to be able to do a damn thing about it.

Andy, and Ansem. Speaking their wants into reality. Max Miller, moving things with his mind. Sam, and his dreams, and it wouldn't have to be bad. Except it always ends up bad. Death, somehow waiting, and he strips off his jacket and his boots and crawls onto the nearer bed, and buries his face into the pillow, and tries to listen to the steady familiar sound of the shower going and tries not to think about that dark wave. Drawing nearer, cresting.

*

A honk wakes him up. He blinks, drags in muffled air. When he turns over Dean's sitting on his bed, frowning at the curtains. "Just 'cause you can't drive," he mutters, and then looks back down at Sam. "Oh, finally."

Sam drags a hand over his face. No drool, that's something. He yawns, stretching out on the bed. "How long was I out?"

"Couple hours," Dean says. He points the remote and Sam sees the TV on, muted, a newscast—and off, just as fast. Politer than Dean usually is.

"Should've woken me up," Sam says, and Dean rolls his eyes and says, "You need all the beauty sleep you can get," and Sam smiles, can't help it, and he goes to sit up but Dean puts a hand on his shoulder and he stays put. Surprised a little. Dean, looking at him.

"Sammy," Dean says. He's tipped in toward Sam, in a t-shirt and boxers, and the look he's giving Sam is steady, considering. "You didn't have any crazy dreams, right? No big visions?"

Sam blinks. "No."

"No," Dean repeats. "So we don't have to light out of here and haul ass to, like, Weehawken or something?"

"What?" Sam says. "No. Weehawken?"

Dean shrugs. "Tried to think of somewhere that'd suck." He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, looking at Sam, and then throws a leg over Sam's and settles himself in Sam's lap, just like that. Sam grabs his hips, startled instinct, while Dean shifts and his ass sits warm and heavy against Sam's dick. "So. Want to screw?"

Jesus. "How romantic," Sam says, but his mouth's dry. Light of day, just straight-out like that. Yeah, this is new. Dean pops his eyebrows, grins in that goofy way where he's trying to be funny or sexy or something, but for Sam it just reminds him how this is—them, the two of them together like this despite all sense or reason, and his stomach flips like encountering some new nasty thing but it's just—Dean. He gets a steady look, that grin going smaller, and then Dean leans down over him and braces his hand on Sam's pec to balance and kisses him like it's his right to do it, plush and immediately wet, his mouth like something—like a dream—

Sam pushes up on an elbow, kisses back. Dean tastes like toothpaste. His stomach, warm and soft under the warm soft t-shirt, and when Sam squeezes his ass with his good hand Dean makes a little noise into his mouth, tips his hips down. Hard already, pressing into Sam's stomach, like he was waiting maybe, like maybe he'd been fooling with himself hoping Sam would wake up. Sam bites his lip because it turns out Dean likes that, even if he bitches after, and he dips and kisses Dean's throat because it turns out Dean likes that, all his vampire comments notwithstanding, and Dean cups the back of Sam's head and digs his fingers into Sam's hair and Sam flips them over, easy reversal of their weight with Dean's thighs splayed out around his hips, and Dean says fuck under his breath when Sam tugs his shirt-collar down and bites at him there, but his chest pushes up into it like a chick wanting her tits played with, so that's clearly okay. "Vampire," Dean says, predictable already, and Sam grins and then sucks there, slicking his tongue against the little dents of his teeth. Dean's hips kick up and his thighs squeeze Sam's hips, but he groans too, and says, "Moving me around. You're such a control freak."

Their hips grind together. Even through his jeans it feels incredible, his dick chubbed up to match Dean's. "Like you mind," Sam says, even if he can feel the heat rushing up into his face to say it, flat-out like that. When he picks his head up Dean's eyes are heavy, his ears that bright red they always are when he's turned on, and Sam licks his lips and watches Dean's attention drop to them. Jesus. "You want me to stop?"

"Didn't say that." He tugs at Sam's arm and Sam lifts up, kisses him open, and Dean's leg slides against his, his hands framing Sam's waist, dragging up his back. When Sam pulls back to breathe Dean's lips are puffed-wet, red as his ears, and he's—fuck, he's hot. Sam drags a thumb over his cheek, swipes the wet off his lower lip, and Dean smiles a little. Like he knows what Sam's thinking. "Just saying. You gotta be in charge, huh? Never would've guessed, Sammy." He catches Sam's wrist and fake-whispers, like a shared secret: "That was sarcasm."

Sam snorts. "Yeah, you're hilarious." He braces his cast on the bed, tugs out of Dean's grip and slides his hand down to grip Dean's dick. So close it's easy to watch Dean's eyes go a little wide, his lips parting. "You wanna shut up now?"

Dean's thigh slides against his hip. "Make me." Sam squeezes and Dean sighs out hot against his face. He blinks then, a flash of smile. "Hey, maybe you could. Use that mojo."

Sam doesn't understand for a second. He pushes up higher on his elbow, frowns.

"Get me to do whatever you want, huh?" Dean's cheeks are very red. "No control issues then. What Sammy says goes."

With his dick this hard Sam doesn't know how to react. "Dean," he says, helplessly—some mix of turned on, of pissed off. Like Sam could be like—like he could be Andy. Ansem. Some nasty magic, getting Dean to do anything. "I wouldn't."

Dean licks the point of one canine, eyes on Sam's mouth. It's not picking a fight because he's so obviously hot for it that Sam's body reacts like a strange compulsion, stretching out over his brother, pinning him down. He rocks his hips into Dean's, pins one of Dean's arms down by the wrist, and Dean groans, arches into it. "I know you wouldn't," he says, rough. Sam leans back, his stomach flipping uncertainly, and Dean grabs his neck, arches up, wild and intense and amazing like Dean always is in bed—wholly present, wholly wanting, like no one else ever has been. Everyone is always thinking about something else, always holding a little apart. Not Dean—Dean's here, pressing his dick up against Sam's dick, holding Sam close, leaning up and kissing Sam's jaw where he hasn't shaved in a day, breathing hot against his ear, saying tight and sweet, "Tell me, though—tell me, what you'd make me do—what you'd say, Sammy, tell me—"

—and Sam says, coming up from some deep place, "I'd tell you I was gonna fuck you," and Dean groans like Sam punched him in the solar plexus—a deep short breathless grunt, breaking Sam's grip to grab his hips, his ass, hauling him in like Sam's already inches deep. Jesus, jesus, Dean wants it, even here in this little dump of a motel room at three in the afternoon, the light coming in muffled through the blinds. Vivid even in the muted grey, Dean's eyes visible and his mouth wide and his face an open book, a crazy thing. No secrets, anymore, Sam's sure of it. Sam grabs his face, dips his thumb between Dean's lips. "Jesus, Dean—yeah, I'm gonna fuck you. You're gonna let me. Aren't you."

"Yeah," Dean says, deep and ready, and Sam kneels up, drags Dean's boxers down and watches his dick slap up against his stomach, and he rips his jeans open one-handed, feeling wild. Feeling powerful, and right, especially with how Dean's eyes drop immediately to see him get his dick out and his mouth works like he wishes Sam would just feed it in, like he wants it there, wants it bad, wants it—wants Sam—

"You're gonna open right up for me, aren't you?" Sam says, lightheaded almost, and Dean nods dumbly and spreads, grabs one leg up by the back of his knee so Sam can burrow fingers down into the dark place between them—soft a little, damp a little, and when he looks up into Dean's face Dean's bright fuckin red like he knows exactly what Sam's thinking, like he knew what Sam was gonna ask for. Sam spits on two fingers and feeds them in and finds Dean—open, kinda wet, and Dean says—"There was—the conditioner, in the shower—" and Sam groans wild because it's like magic, like some wished-for thing, like he's Andy and he said to Dean open yourself up for me and Dean willed himself fuckable. He feeds himself inside, inch after inch, and Dean's face flinches and his eyes squeeze tight but he's rearing up, gripping into Sam's shirt, his legs wrapping around Sam's waist, lifting off the bed practically with how he's trying to shove Sam deeper, gasping for more than Sam can give.

Sam gets his cast bolstered under the small of Dean's back, keeps his weight tipped up into the perfect place for Sam to grind into. It's not wet enough and Dean's not loose enough but it feels outrageous, and Dean's panting for it, pulling at Sam's shirt hard enough that a button pops. "Fuck, you can hold me up, huh?" Dean says, shuddery, and Sam presses up on his good arm enough that Dean really does go airborne, the strain intense but worth it for the noise Dean makes when Sam's dick jolts inside him at the new angle. Dean's face presses against Sam's, his nose bumping Sam's ear and his mouth wet at Sam's jaw, and Sam curls his hips in these short shallow pumps that wouldn't usually do it for him except that Dean's so wrapped-up close that he can feel every shaking thing it's doing, the insanity of what he can make his brother feel.

That he can make him feel—Sam groans, sits back, and Dean's clinging to him so tight he gets hauled upright and his ass shoves down on Sam's dick through sheer gravity, enough to make him tip his head back on his shoulders and groan out loud. Sam keeps him in place, holding his hips steady, and shoves up, up, watching Dean's throat go bright red, kissing there when he can't stand not to, anymore. Dean's thighs squeeze his sides and his dick's rubbing all over Sam's shirt and he gets both hands in Sam's hair, keeping him in place, and Sam's biting and fucking up and keeping both their balance and so it's a surprise, sort of, when Dean says nearly breathless against the top of his ear, "Tell me—Sammy, tell me something else, tell me what you want me to do."

Fuck. Sam bites Dean's collarbone hard enough that Dean yelps, squirms and yanks at Sam's hair to get him to pull back, and both feel so good that Sam just sucks harder before he lets go. When he tips his head up Dean's looking at him, red-faced and glassy-eyed, and Sam says without thinking much about it, "I'm gonna come in you, and then I want to eat it out. You're gonna let me." Dean's jaw drops further and Sam actually feels the spasm around the root of his dick, Dean's whole body clenching. Anticipation, he's pretty sure. Sam hasn't—they haven't done that, yet, but now it's all he wants, and he knows Dean will practically cry for it. Sam smiles at him, a weird sort of power filling up his chest, watching how his working dick makes Dean feel. "Later, too. If I want you to blow me. Tonight. Or at a rest stop—shit, parked out where someone might see, Dean. You'll do it, won't you?"

Dean groans, when Sam pushes up into him hard, keeping his hips held tight against Sam's so that he's full. The way Sam's learning he likes to be. "All right, Sammy," Dean says, soft, and Sam—fuck, he can't, he can't wait anymore, and he bears Dean back onto the mattress and lets his head bounce, and when he shoves in at just the right angle Dean shouts at the ceiling and then Sam's free to just—fuck him, to get his dick inside that hot friction where Dean's so ready for him, where he wants it because he—because he wants what Sam wants. Something Sam didn't get, when they first started this up, and it was rough and unspoken and awkward in the night. Everything he tried, something Dean just accepted and built higher, and when they kissed for the first time that wasn't like fighting it was something that—that Sam doesn't—god Dean feels good, and he's moaning against Sam's temple like he's getting some kind of dick-based religion, and Sam grips his hips and slams in without care or finesse and when he comes it's brutal, some unloading from the base of his spine, and he says—something—but his ears are roaring and his hips are flexing deep and Dean's nails are digging so hard into his back under his shirts that it hurts but even that feels good, at that second, the world aligning for a half-moment into being for fucking once in Sam's life—right.

He barely holds himself up, breathing hard into Dean's throat. Dean's still twitching, his dick like iron against Sam's stomach. He rocks against Sam, churning Sam's dick inside him where it's still hard, and they groan together, feeling it, but Dean groans louder when Sam slips out. They've fucked like this—a handful, two handfuls, of times, and they've swapped back and forth but Sam's only felt insane this way when he was on top, when he was in charge. With his body still ringing like a struck gong he licks his lips and then bites Dean's throat very deliberately, just below the amulet cord, hard enough that it'll leave a mark, and only when Dean's hissing does Sam think to ask—but. But he doesn't have to ask.

He releases his jaw, stretches it. Licks, against the hurt mark, and then crawls down the bed, kisses Dean's pec and his nipple and his soft belly and his hip, and brushes his cheek stubble and all against Dean's straining dick and feels Dean's thighs jump around his shoulders. When he looks up Dean's watching him, head off-center on a pillow and his eyes slitted, dark. "What am I going to do now?" Sam says.

Dean licks his lower lip. "You—" He swallows. "What you said."

"Yeah," Sam says, and pushes Dean's thighs up in time to watch his sore-fucked rosy asshole flex and drip, a runnel of white that Sam dips and collects with his tongue—salt, and bitter, but good enough that Sam's bones shiver in his skin. He laps across Dean's asshole and feels it so hot and soft, and Dean moans rich enough up above that Sam's own dick twitches, caught in a semi between his hip and the bed. He licks deeper, his tongue almost dipping inside, and then hooks two fingers in easy on the wet he left behind, and Dean cries out but only spreads wider, fisting himself and letting Sam do—whatever he wants, whatever he needs, because Dean is—because Sam is—

Dean comes quieter than Sam expects, every time. His whole body freezes for a second and then he makes this deep sound in his chest, in his throat, arching toward Sam like for comfort, almost. Almost. Sam licks him through it and then lifts up, holding his fingers tight up where he'd buried them, watching Dean's face while the last of it spurts from his dick, while he slowly, slowly relaxes into the bed.

It's—god. Afternoon. Why is that what Sam thinks, but it's what he thinks. Afternoon and the sound of a semi roaring to life in the parking lot, and Ellen waiting a few hours north of here, and the world resettling into something that has to be dealt with. Sam works his jaw, lets his fingers slip out when Dean spasms around them. He doesn't—he doesn't regret this, ever, not since that first time when they both had to take a minute—but he feels… He swallows, and sits back on his knees. Jesus, he's still dressed. Jeans and button-down and socks, sweat and worse griming him up. He zips up, feeling weird.

Dean rubs a hand up his stomach, smearing his own jizz over his belly and undershirt. His amulet's swung around on his neck, laying against the pillow. "Dude, that was sick," he says, but in a way that's weirdly admiring. Sam licks his lips, the remaining afterglow twisting in his belly. Dean lets his heels slip down the bed, his legs splayed around Sam, and he's red-faced still, but maybe that's just because they're both so—out there. Exposed. Even so, Dean touches his knee against Sam's hip, the corner of his mouth turned up. "Seriously. You're like a freight train when you get going, you know that?"

Sam swallows. Thick aftertaste in his mouth. "Shut up," he says, and finally goes for the buttons on his shirt. Jeez, Dean really did rip one off—Sam'll have to hunt for it on the carpet or wherever. He likes this shirt, it doesn't deserve to get ruined by—this.

"Hey, did you hear me complaining?"

Sam keeps unbuttoning, wrestles the shirt off his sweaty arms. He's gonna need a shower before they go anywhere.

"Sammy," Dean says, and Sam swings a leg over, goes to get off the bed. Shower, and clean clothes, and maybe they won't be late enough that Ellen asks questions—"Hey!"

Sam's forearm is grabbed before he can get away and Dean tugs hard enough that Sam'll have to wrench something to get away. He pauses, still on one knee on the bed, and when he looks Dean's up on one elbow, still naked from the waist down, frowning at him. "What," Sam says.

"What." Dean squints at him, and he's not blushed up anymore, not turned on. Looking at Sam like he wishes he could peel back Sam's skull and see what he's thinking, but Dean's never been good at that, really. Sam wishes he were, sometimes. All his life he'd wished for some kind of privacy, but then when he got it everything just ended up—worse. When it mattered Dean couldn't see him, see what counted, and now, with what's happening—

"Come back here," Dean says, firm, but his tug on Sam's arm is gentle as anything. Sam sits, half-on the bed with his hip tucked up against Dean's hip, and Dean's still looking at him with that intense so-thoughtful look, and it's—it's killing Sam, kind of, deep in his gut, that Dean doesn't know, that he can't know, that Sam's by himself here even when like five minutes ago they were about as close as Sam's ever been, will ever be, to anyone.

"You're wigging out," Dean says, after a few beats of silence, and Sam snorts and says, "Yeah, that’s me," and maybe it's bitter and too much and too weird but Sam doesn't know any other way to be, now, but Dean sighs and says, "Fuck, Sammy," kinda quiet. He reaches up and gets Sam by the neck and tugs him down, down, until there's no choice really but to kiss, and Dean opens up soft and wide and easy like they've been doing this for years, like he knows exactly what Sam needs. Sam gets a hand on his jaw, holds his face. His lips a little chapped, toothmarks on the inside like he was biting himself before to stay quiet, and when they stop Sam leans his forehead against Dean's, lets their noses brush together, breathes his air. Dean runs his fingers through the hair at the back of Sam's head, a slow carding pull. Sam sighs.

"I don't know if I need to give you like a signed customer satisfaction survey," Dean says, in his normal voice, "but that was good. For me."

Sam's eyelids squeeze tight without him even meaning to. Purplish sparky bursts against the darkness.

"Hey," Dean says, and pushes him back an inch. Sam doesn't open his eyes, just lets Dean move him, and feels Dean's hand on his throat, his thumb braced right over Sam's pulse. "Seriously. If it's too weird, or—or if you don't—damn, Sam, I know you want it. Talking like that. And I'm obviously good with it too, I just practically came my brains out. So don't let it be weird, okay. It's just you and me."

"Like that's not weird?" Sam says, weirdly croaky and feeling how his voice vibrates against Dean's grip. When he looks again Dean's face is striped with the light from the blinds, the sun dipping just enough. A band of shadow across his eyes, a band of greyed-out yellow across his nose, showing the freckles he pretends he doesn't mind. Sam pushes further up and Dean lets him go, frowning at him while Sam picks the amulet off the pillow, resettles it into its place over Dean's sternum. He fiddles with it, avoiding Dean's eyes. Sharp little horns pricking his thumb. How haven't they blunted, he wonders, after all this time. He presses his thumb harder into one, letting it hurt, and watches his hand rather than look at Dean's face. "I don't know, man. I'm just—that stuff last night, it's not—it's bad. I don't want that. The power. The dreams are bad enough, you know?"

Dean gets a grip in Sam's t-shirt—loose, but enough that if he held fast Sam probably couldn't get away. "If you hadn't had 'em we wouldn't have gotten there," Dean says. "Tracy probably would've died."

"Ansem might've lived," Sam says back, and Dean makes a tch sound, not very under his breath. Sam sucks the inside of his cheek, that sore spot. Still sore. Dean's better at this, Sam thinks. This calculation. Who deserves to live and who deserves to die. Who's good and who's not. Tracy for Ansem, Sam thinks, but Andy still murdered someone. Bullet to the brain, and now who's a monster.

"Sorry," Dean says, and for that Sam does look up, frowning. There's a glimpse of white teeth as Dean worries at one corner of his lip. "I guess it's not really a—I wasn't trying to make like it's not a big deal."

Sam shrugs. "Scares you, doesn't it?" Dean blinks, expression tightening. "You said. Freaks me out, too. I don't think anybody here's saying it's not a big deal." Sam lets the amulet go, rubs the pad of his thumb to feel the deep dents he's made. They look like holes in him. "It just—first it was Max and now Andy. It goes wrong every time."

Dean sits up, fast. "We don't know that," he says, more intense than he really ought to be when he's half-naked. "Sammy. We're not gonna let it go that way, okay? You and me. We can handle it."

He gets his hand on the turn of Sam's jaw, makes Sam look at him, and Sam does because it's not like looking at Dean's a hardship. He tries a smile and Dean nods, like Sam's agreeing to something. He really can't read Sam's mind. Sam wonders if that's something he'll be able to do, soon, coming down the pipe of this shitty year, but before he can tug away at that miserable thought Dean's leaned in and is kissing him, again. Soft, coaxing when Sam's stiff, and he puts one hand solid on Sam's chest, grounding and warm. Sam sighs, leans into it. It's nice, and he might as well let Dean have something.

"Better," Dean says, quiet, when they pull apart, and Sam nods even if it wasn't a question. He's let his hand fall onto Dean's bare thigh and he squeezes the muscle there, trying to say—he doesn't even know what. Dean kisses him again, quick, and then lifts his eyebrows. "You still going to make me blow you at a rest stop? That's nasty, man."

Sam huffs and Dean grins, even if it's small. "Don't need magic powers to know you're easy," Sam says, and even if it feels like an effort he manages to make it sound light.

"Damn right I am," Dean says, and Sam smiles and says, "Okay, okay, I'm taking a shower," and lets Dean pat his chest before he closes himself into the little room, fluorescents and yellow tile, bright and just a little dingy.

Andy said Tracy was scared of him. Sam believes it. He saw her face, this morning in the ambulance. That dim horror. Dean's not there. Scared of the situation, about what might happen, but he's not afraid of Sam, yet. Sam tips his head back against the door, imagining it. Taking Dean's hand and pitching his voice a certain way—that weird tone that he'd heard in Andy's voice but which hadn't affected him—and saying kiss me, and Dean going soft and easy and smiling, and doing it, no questions asked. Doing other things, just because Sam asked.

His stomach turns hard enough that for a second he really thinks he's going to puke. Hits different than it did when his dick was doing the thinking. The things he could do, with that power—he's lucky that it's just the dreams he has to worry about. Although—back with Max—there was that wardrobe, that he moved—

"Hey, get a move on," Dean says, muffled through the door. Sam opens his eyes, shocked back to the moment. "We get cleaned up and out of here, I only got to pay for a half day, and we've got to get up to the Roadhouse by tonight."

"You're the one who wanted a break," Sam says, and Dean says, quieter, yeah, yeah. Sam's breathing hard, remembering. That wardrobe. It came out of Sam like a punch, pure instinct, but—Sam's learned how to do a lot harder things than to throw a punch.

He strips out of his clothes, turns on the shower. Hot. Runs his hand under the water, waiting for it heat up, and thinks that, in the right circumstances, anyone can be pushed.

"Sam, seriously!" Dean calls out.

Sam folds his hand into a fist, hard enough that he feels the tendons strain. They're not going to let anything happen. He might have to ask Dean to swear that's true. For now, his skin's crawling, but that's okay. He gets in the shower. They have road to cover, before the day's done.

[kingofkate]

Welp. Here I go Ranting again.

This is a rant about an old Manga series called Akuma No Hanayome (Bride of Deimos/Devil). I was super into this a few years ago, looked back on it, picked it up again, ordered the new books, finished what I know to be available. Let it sit for like a year. NOW I have some freaking thoughts about this.

Let me warn you. This is not going to be pretty.

Let’s get into it.

I HATE this series. SO. MUCH.

Don’t know what it is? Let me sum it up for you.

Basically it is roughly 17 volumes and a few more recently published of one guy (a shit head) trying to figure out if he wants to fuck his sister, or a girl who looks just like her but is actually a good person. Still reading? Why?

Anyway, it all starts in ancient Greece or something where Venus and her twin brother are all Gody or whatever. Except get this, they really wanna bone. So they just straight up kiss one day and Jupiter or something is like NO INCEST IN MY HOUSE KIDS!!!! And curses them.

Venus get’s sent to Hades to slowly rot away (a real blow because her beauty is everything) and her brother get’s turned in Deimos, the king of Hades who is ugly because he has horns, wings, and weird ass feet. Not going to talk about how this guy was the closest thing I (an asexual) had to a sexual awakening. He gave me a heart boner. Imma just say it.

Anyway, Venus is all like “ow this sucks. But like... I still wanna bone, you know? So get down there (or up there I guess) and find my reincarnation... or whatever it is, kill her, then I can take over her body and we can totes get it on.”

Deimos thinks this sounds completely reasonable. So he... uh... dicks around for a loooooong time (even though it is shown in issues that she has been reborn like a bunch of times and he’s even met her before!) until we get to where the manga picks up.

We meet Minako. Basically a child (I think she’s in middle school??? Whatever, max age is highschool age). Deimos appears in her dream all cool and normal looking to try to seduce her, which goes south INSTANTLY when she gets a good look at him and he just goes straight into demon mode.

The first few volumes have somewhat of a stable storyline. Somewhat. The basic story is that Minako knows that Deimos wants to marry her and also wants to kill her, that he is a demon, and that he keeps literally murdering all of her friends (or people she meets and likes). Why did he think murder was the best way to win a girls heart? uh...

Yeah, he never really thought this through.

At some point Venus finds a way to turn into a butterfly for some reason and spends the rest of the volumes swapping back and forth between trying to kill Minako and trying to kill Deimos because she rightly assumes he has feelings for Minako.

Deimos on the other hand spends literally 17 full volumes trying to figure out who he loves more. And anyone reading can clearly tell that he likes Minako more even though that’s not how love works at all. Basically, Venus has turned into a vengeful bitch and Minako is still a actually nice person despite how many people in her life have died. It all comes down to one tiny thing: guilt.

Over and over Deimos goes over (usually justifying it to SOMEONE) that he loves Minako (they aren’t dating and any time he spends with her she it telling him to get lost and begging him to not kill her friends) BUT it was his love for his sister that put her in Hades where she is suffering so he feels he owes it to her to kill Minako and give her another chance at life.

Does that sound needlessly complicated? Don’t worry. You have plenty of time to get used to it because this is repeated over in every single issue from Volume 2 onward. 

I’m not kidding about that. Every issue starts with Minako doing something different, not referring to the events of the last issue, Deimos shows up, torments Minako about how unfair the world is, kills her friend, then gets all mad she doesn’t want to marry/die with him. Sometimes Venus is in the story. Sometimes it focuses on Deimos where he laments about his sister problems. But for 16 volumes there. is. no. story.

It’s so vague that when reading it online depending where you read it the stories are all mixed up so it’s hard to read it all in one place. 

Even when it seems like things are FINALLY going to happen, it doesn’t change. One issue has Deimos finally decides, fuck it, this has gone on long enough, I’m just going to kill Minako and get this over with. Only for a vampire lady to try to kill Manko first, leading to Deimos saving her and deciding not to kill her because the sword he was making to do got burned up in the fight. 

In another one Minako gets possessed by the ghost of a dead sister who wants to marry her brother (oh boy) so she wants to transfer her soul into her brother’s wife’s body (OH BOY) and Deimos is like do it, let’s see how this works out. And it seems like he finally has his answer until the brother is like “I love my wife for her soul, not her body” and Deimos is like “YOU CAN DO THAT?!” and the issue concludes with him saying he wants Minako’s soul and body. So no Venus right? WHO FUCKING KNOWS!

The series was dropped for like 20 years or something with no hint of a conclusion until the author picked it up again and a few more volumes were released. I went out of my way to order these from Japan (I do not speak Japanese) so I could see the conclusion but guess what? It was just 4 more volumes of the SAME. DAMN. THING!!!!

Like dammit man/woman just pick one! I don’t even care which one! I’d be satisfied if every single one of them died at this point. I don’t care! JUST END!

I don’t need 3 more stories about Minako actually finding someone who is kind and respects her only for Deimos to make a big deal about “this must be what jealousy is!” until he just pulls some demon crap and kill them in some horrible way. (ex. cured one of cancer so he could be hanged by the state for a murder Deimos tricked him into committing, caused one guy to commit suicide after making him accidentally kill his sister, and I’m sure there is more but I don’t feel like reading the 49 translated issues again to find it)

There is also the point that Minako keeps falling in love with guys who are the complete opposite of him. They are nice, treat her well, respect her, normally blonde I think?, and oh, did I mention they don’t kill everyone around her on a daily basis? No? Well the didn’t. You know.. before they died...

This is just a crazy unending story about a guy unsure just how much he still wants to fuck his sister and a poor innocent girl getting dragged into it. I hate it. I hate how hot Deimos is. I hate how cute and sweet Minako is. And I hate Venus in general. There are no other characters that manage to last more than an issue. (except maybe death but he only shows up a few times and no one likes him)

What is the conclusion to take from this? I was an emotionally horny tween/teen and overlooked incest for a hot guy. Now I’m older and realize that the incest should have been a huge red flag for an already shitty story that wasn’t a story because the author had no idea where they wanted to take it. They just wanted a hot guy doing bad things to a pretty girl for weird sexy reasons.

Rant over.

Hopefully I won’t think back on any OTHER Manga and end up ranting again. None of you deserve this.

[el-gilliath]

the way you make me feel part 2

Well it took me a while, but here it finally is. @lambourngb I hope you enjoy part two <3 And before you ask, yes I did indeed give you a happy ending. With a bit of a redemption arc, and a tiny bit of pointing out Isobel’s white privilege. Because I can.

Part 1

“Flint switched the bomb?”

“Yeah,” Alex replies. “Helena switched it to the Manes DNA bomb, and then Flint switched it back. But it was a third bomb, one that makes it seem like Michael was dead. It made his heart beat so slow that there was no way for me to know he wasn’t dead, and it’ll keep it like that for 24 hours.”

“But after that?”

“If I don’t find him, he wakes up and they kill him. After experimentation, pain, and suffering, probably.”

“Thank you, I don’t need the details,” Isobel replies. She’s worried, the way they all are. “I just need to know how you’re going to find him.”

Alex steals a glance at Maria. She looks back at him, giving him an encouraging smile. “We’ve been soulmates since we were 17. We might not always be good, or even great. But our bond is strong, has been since it formed. With your help, I can find him.”

“So what do you need me to do?”

“Influence the bond. Make it stronger so that I can feel him again.”

“I can do it too, if you need it,” Maria says. Alex smiles at her. She deserves an explanation, deserves to hear it from him why he hid it from her, even when she was dating Michael. And he will give her one, just not now. He loves that she knows that and that she’s willing and capable to put it aside, even if he knows she’s hurt.

“Keep that bracelet on for now grand-niece, I’ve got this.” Isobel smirks. “Besides, I know Michael’s brain and you don’t.”

He knows Isobel doesn’t quite believe him, probably because Michael didn’t tell her either. But they didn't tell anyone. Knowing Isobel, she’ll suck it up until the worst possible moment and then she’ll lay into them in any way she wants. He’s kinda looking forward to it. Even though he knows they’re gonna have to make it up to everyone.

“You okay to start?” he asks Isobel, walking over to a booth and sitting down. He knows he has a slight limp, can feel Kyle and Max eying his leg as he walks but he doesn’t really care. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“I’m ready when you are, Princess.” He gives Isobel a look, watches her flinch as much as Isobel Evans can flinch. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“If anyone’s the princess here, you are.”

“Excuse me, I’m a queen,” Isobel says with a sniff.

“Yeah well, so am I.”

Maria snorts. “I thought you were a king?”

“I can be both.”

“Hell yeah y-“

“Okay, have you forgotten about Michael already?!” Max interjects loudly, throwing his hands up like a kid having a tantrum. Alex is really happy he’s not on the other side of the icy glare Isobel, Maria, and Liz throw his way. By the full body flinch, neither is Max.

“Thank you for your delightful comments, brother dear,” Isobel says, dry as the deserts of Bahrain as she joins Alex in the booth. “It’s almost like we needed or wanted your opinion.”

“Is-“

“No. We haven’t forgotten him. You should know better than to ask.” Isobel shoots him another glare before she turns back to Alex. “You ready to start?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. You?”

“No need to worry about me. I do this for a living.”

Alex huffs. He’ll never admit it because he knows it will go to her head but he does admire the easy confidence Isobel has. “Take us away Queen Isobel.”

They’re in what he assumes is the mindscape before he can blink. He looks around in shock, as does Isobel.

“I did not expect you to let me in that easy.”

“Probably because I want you in here,” he replies. He’s not shocked that he’s telling the truth, he knows he can’t lie in here. “I can’t feel him, I know I need your help.”

“Good. If you prefer it to look different than the Pony just think of a place and it’ll take us there,” she says and the visual changes from the Pony to the shed before he can think about it too much. “Is this…”

“The shed where my dad crushed Michael’s hand? Yeah,” he sighs. “He ruined my safe space out in the real world that night. And yet in my head, that night with Michael is still the happiest I’ve ever been. Our bond started right here, you know.”

“That night?”

“Yeah. It started when we kissed in the museum, grew when we were here. My dad cemented it with his hammer.”

Isobel nods. “Your bond locked with the shared trauma.”

“That it did.” Alex looks around. “I can still feel it in here. Always could. I just feel close to him here, even in the real world when I’m close to the shed. Like our bond has a physical connection to it. Worst and best day of my life.”

“Why did you never claim it? It’s cemented and clearly in space,” Isobel asks. Her eyes are curious, full of wonder. It’s quite sweet to see.

“Couldn’t. Between the Air Force, distance, our own issues, Caulfield, and… Maria. We would’ve burned ourselves out trying to keep it healthy. So Michael ended it. A few times, actually,” Alex replies. “It was for the best. We needed a new start.”

“How did you feel about my brother and Maria?”

“Pain. But he was happy for a little while, so I lived with it.” He sighs. “I love both of them, Isobel. Nothing changes that.”

“You’re a stronger man than I would ever be, Alex Manes. I don’t think I could watch my soulmate with someone else.”

“Luckily for you, you don’t have to. According to my research, Charlie is single and ready to mingle.” Isobel’s eyes widen in shock, and Alex can’t help but smile. “I feel like I should apologize in case you didn’t know.”

“I did. I knew the first time I met Jenna that someone close to her was my soulmate, meeting Charlie when she first came to town just solidified it. I’m just not used to someone being as observant as me though I’m not surprised, you are a hacker after all,” Isobel says, smiling in return. “We’re going to be the most antagonistic of friends one day, you and I.”

“That we will be. I guess we have to be.”

“We do if you’re going to be with Michael. I’m possessive when it comes to my brothers, I don’t see that changing.”

“Neither do I, but I need to find him, first,” Alex says. The bond has been subtly reaching all through their talk, Isobel’s mindscape helping it search in a way it hasn’t before. He can’t really feel Michael, but the remnant of the bond is all around him, spreading out slowly but surely as he talks about him. As his mind brings him back and remembers ten years of hurt, sure. But also of quiet moments, of loving and tender touches, of hungry mouths and bruising fingers. “Did you know? About him and me?”

“He did tell me, eventually. I called his closet flimsy after everything with Noah.” She grimaces at the obvious disapproval in his eyes. “Yeah I know. To my defense I had just figured out that my husband of years had been using my body and raping my mind.”

“Still doesn’t explain how you could turn around and do it to Rosa.”

“It doesn’t. And I don’t have an excuse. Call it white privilege if you want, it’s fucked up regardless. But I apologized, she cursed me out and tried to punch me. We’re good. I still have issues I obviously need to work on, but I am working on it.” Isobel sighs. “One day I’ll be free of him, and all of it. But that day is not today, or tomorrow.”

“Good for you,” Alex says, completely sincere.

“And how will your own tour of apologies and explanations go?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided if anyone is owed either, right now. I think Michael and I need to decide that together, after we actually talk.”

“Guess you gotta bring my brother back then,” Isobel answers. “Or I’ll never get my explanation.”

Alex can’t help it, he laughs out loud at her audacity. “You’re something, Isobel.”

“I’m aware,” she says with a wink. He just shakes his head and opens his mouth to reply, instead he inhales sharply as something in his stomach yanks. Their surroundings change around them, morphing from the shed, to the Pony, to the Airstream, to Alex’s house. It stops there for a moment until it morphs again. Roswell High, the UFO Museum, Crashdown, the Junkyard. Every place that’s meant something to them, regardless of the situation, regardless of the love or heartbreak. He feels himself getting nauseous as the images and surroundings spin, Isobel gripping his hand tight and yelling for him to hold on as she presumably concentrates on what is making his head spin. Alex squeezes his eyes shut to stave off the nausea for a second.

They pop open a second later as he sees Michael in his mind.

The images and their surroundings settle suddenly, focusing on the field base just outside the ruins of Caulfield, the green tents surrounded by military jeeps and research trucks. He sees Michael clearly in his mind, laying on a table in one of the tents, surrounded by medical equipment and military personnel. He looks completely still. He has no cuts or bruises on him and his skin isn’t actually blue. Even the blood has been wiped away. He looks like he’s sleeping peacefully. Alex fears it won’t last.

“Is that where I think it is?”

“Caulfield. He’s in Caulfield,” Alex answers.

The world sharpens around them as the mindscape falls away and the actual Pony comes back, Liz, Maria, and Kyle hovering nervously around them, Rosa, Max, and Jenna standing in the background as if not to be in the way, even as their worry is evident.

“You back with us?” Kyle asks, walking in close and examining both of them with his eyes. “You were in there for a while.”

“Michael’s in Caulfield, Deep Sky or whatever their name has built a small base right outside of the ruins there,” Alex answers, ignoring Kyle and getting to his feet as Kyle protests. “We need someone who can get us in.”

“No need, we already have someone,” Jenna answers. “Charlie’s a part of them, or used to be. She can get us in.”

Alex sneaks a look at Isobel at the mention of Charlie but her face betrays nothing. Only her eyes sparkle with curiosity.

“Then you better call your sister, we need to leave now. Before it’s too late.”

-----

An hour later they’re on the road, Charlie driving one car with Jenna, Kyle and Alex with her. Max, Isobel, Liz, Maria and Rosa following in another. Alex is having the worst time sitting still in the passenger seat after he was denied driving the car. He knows Kyle was right, his knee is not up to driving for two hours after all the running he did earlier but it still pisses him off. He can feel the bond slipping in and out of his brain, like Michael is alive, there and constant one second, dead, gone and broken in the other. It swoops him into the last feelings of intense love he felt from Michael, he hears the repeat of ‘I love you’ clear as day. It pushes him out with the abrupt feelings of gone.

He hears Kyle trying to talk to him, hears Jenna and Charlie discuss something of a battle plan. But he can’t follow, his hyperfocus lasered onto Michael and the brief glimpses of him. It’s weird, how he’s seeing him from the outside instead of through his eyes the way he usually does. But with the strengthening that Isobel did he figures that’s the reason. Any other reason isn’t something he’s willing to think about.

He stays in his head for the entire ride, sliding in and out of the bond, sending Michael good feelings whenever he feels the bond respond on the other end. It’s rare, rare in a way that it was during the ten years they were more or less parted and not in the way it’s been for the last few days. Like something is there that he’s been missing. Something that he’s supposed to know well. A truly important part. It reminds him that he never wants the bond to be that closed again.

“Alex.” He refocuses as he hears his name sharply spoken by Charlie. “We’re gonna be there in 30 minutes. You ready?”

“Yes. Can you get us in?”

“I’ll try.” Charlie gives him a wry smile. “You might need to use your last name too.”

He nods, much too used to throwing the Manes name around. “I will. I’ll use Flint’s name too if needed.”

“Good.”

He fades out again, not really listening as Jenna, Kyle and Charlie discuss something. He hearsDeep Sky being mentioned but he doesn’t care right now, he’ll worry about them later. He’ll worry about them when he starts worrying about his dad, who’s back in the hospital after the pistol whipping Alex gave him. Hopefully he’ll stay there for a long time so he doesn’t have to deal with him any time soon. But knowing his luck that won’t happen.

Regardless of what happens, Michael is his priority now. The way he should have been a long time ago. They’ve grown and worked on being friends this past year, something they’ve needed to become a better them. Maybe he wished Maria wasn’t part of that, but at the same time he understands. Michael couldn’t be good for him, with all the shit between them. At least he got to be good for someone else.

“We’re here,” Charlie says, stopping the car not far from the ruins of Caulfield. Alex focuses on the fence and military green base tents instead of the ruins, so he doesn’t have to think about what happened there. He knows it would devastate Michael if he knew he was here, so close to the remains of his mother and her prison. “Jenna, you and Kyle stay with the car. We’ll call you if we need you.”

“The rest of them?”

Charlie gives him a look as they get out and walk towards the gate. “Wow, you really were out of it. Parked about half an hour back, they shouldn’t be too close.”

“Jenna and Kyle?”

“Both read in, Jenna because she’s my sister, Kyle because he’s a Valenti and part of Shepherd.” Charlie gives him a reassuring look, and he’s thankful he’s not alone. “They’ll be fine. And so will we.”

He nods. He does believe her, but this close it’s taking most of his concentration not to get lost in the fluctuations of the bond. It flits in and out of existence in his brain and it’s making it hard to focus.

Afterwards he can’t tell you how they got into the makeshift compound of Deep Sky. He can’t tell you that Charlie used her connections as a former member, he can’t tell you that he put emphasis on the Captain Alex Manes, he can’t tell you that a call to Flint was the last piece of the puzzle.

The only thing he can tell you is how the visual of Michael’s body on a cold metal table almost made him puke. How the vision he had when in the mindscape with Isobel was Michael looking healthy and like he was asleep, it’s not the one he sees on that table. Michael looks cold, blue, like a sunken in version of the healthy man he supposedly was.

He can tell you how it hurt when he tried to breathe. How he had a physical pain in the pit of his stomach, a psychological pain in the back of his mind, tearing through him as he looked at the body on that table. How that body was no longer Michael, even though it looked like him.

He can tell you how it devastated him.

But standing beside the man he loves, the only thing he can do is cry. Silent, deep tears that run down his face as he hears Charlie talk to the commanding officer behind him. He doesn’t know what she’s saying, or what she’s doing.

He knows now why the bond is flitting in and out.

-----

An hour later they’re back in the car. Charlie is driving, Jenna is in the passenger seat, Kyle is in the back seat. And Alex… Alex is safe in the warm embrace of Michael’s arms as they drive back towards Roswell.

He meets Charlie’s eyes in the mirror. For now it’ll stay a secret between them, what happened in that compound.

-----

A day later Alex finds himself walking out of his house just as Flint parks in front of it and gets out of his truck. Both of them are apprehensive, but all the same determined. Like Manes men are.

“He was dead, wasn’t he?”

Flint walks towards him, an apologetic smile on his face. “Yeah.”

“Then how the hell is he alive, Flint? You sent me after him even knowing he was dead. Why?”

“You remember Uncle Tripp?” Flint huffs at the look Alex sends him. “He did the same thing once. The scientists at Caulfield killed an alien and he brought her back. Just laid his hands on her, cried, and suddenly she was alive again. Turns out they were soulmates. I figured if it worked for him, it would work for you.”

Something inside Alex tells him that he knows exactly who that alien was but for now he just smiles, a small smile, unsure yet happy. “Thank you, Flint. He’s alive because of you.”

“Yeah well. I might not be the best at it, but you are my brother, Alex. After kidnapping you I guess I owed you that much.”

Alex can’t help it, he laughs out loud and drags Flint into a hug. “You’re an asshole.”

“I love you too, Alex,” Flint replies, hugging him back. Alex tilts his head even closer as Flint does the same, both of them having no doubts that the other means it. Their relationship might not always be the best, both of them being who they are, but they’ll always be brothers.

“I’m going to take them down, Flint. I have too much at stake not to,” he whispers in Flint’s ear before he pulls away, looking back towards his house where Michael is resting peacefully.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” Flint replies. “Dad can’t hold anything against me anymore. And Clay’s been against this whole thing for years.”

“Greg is in too. I guess the Manes men are going to war.”

Flint grins, his grin and Alex’s matching both in intensity and in the joy of fucking something up. The way they learnt not only from Jesse Manes, but from their mom as well.

“Hoorah.”

They part after that, quick goodbyes before Flint gets in his truck and drives away, Alex walking back into the house and into his bedroom, laying down beside Michael. They still have so much to talk about, so much to figure out. But for now the bond soars as Alex gathers Michael close, the intensity of both their love and adoration wrapping around them like a blanket.

It’s warm, safe. It’s just enough.

Authors note: No, Michael wasn’t really dead in the beginning. But you kept talking about me killing them all the time, so he became dead for you.

[spaceskam]

freedom tastes of reality

for @isobelevansappreciation day 5: self-discovery

Summary: With the help of Michael and a handful of beautiful women, Isobel figures out apart of herself. OR Aromantic Pansexual Isobel like we deserve.

Warning: mentions of explosions/war, implied sexual content

ao3

.1.

She was the first thing Isobel saw that night.

She looked like a literal angel: dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin, white clothes. Her hair was big, a mass of perfect curls forming a halo around her head and resting against her shoulders that were covered in a long white cardigan. Beneath that was a white tube top, white hot pants, white pumps. She was heaven-sent. Isobel forgot how to breathe.

Her eyes followed her to the bar all the way until Michael snorted loud enough to break her trance. Isobel looked back at him to see him smiling smugly at his drink.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he hummed, "Just wondering how long you're gonna lie to yourself."

"Excuse me?"

Michael rolled his eyes and then looked her in the eyes.

"How old are you?" he asked. She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Twenty-one?"

"So you're an adult."

"Yes? What does–"

"And adults do things that are scary."

"I mean, not–"

"So go over there and ask her to dance and stop saying you come to a gay bar to make me feel better," Michael said, throwing a straw wrapper at her. She stared blankly at him for a moment, stumbling over her entire thought process.

"I'm not–"

"Izzy," he said, "Fuck labels. Have fun and figure it out on the way. You want to talk to her so go do it."

Isobel felt frozen for way too long. He eventually rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink.

"Or don't. Not gonna shove you out of the closet," Michael said, putting his drink down, "But I'm gonna go hit on that guy over there. Take your time." Michael stupidly pat her on the back and swaggered over to a guy covered in tattoos and who Isobel wouldn't have assumed was his type.

But eventually her eyes drifted back to the absolute angel who was already looking at her. Isobel quickly looked back to her drink.

Yeah, that girl was gorgeous, that didn't mean Isobel wanted to dance with her. It didn't mean Isobel wanted anything to do with her at all. But she was staring at her and that had her face turning an embarassing shade of red.

And when she looked up again, Angel was coming closer.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Angel asked. Isobel, bold and ever-confident Isobel, opened and closed her mouth a few times to try and find words. And Angel smiled. "I think I do."

"I don't think–"

"No," Angel said, "I know you. I can feel it. Come dance with me."

And, well, Isobel couldn't say no.

By the end of the night, she and Michael walked home full of excited laughter at the new revelation.

.2.

Isobel decided she was blessed when a stunning, long-legged maid of honor walked into the venue.

She looked like a goddess, honestly, high-waisted jeans and a dark purple shirt tucked into them. Her sun-kissed skin complimented her short, firetruck red hair. Isobel hadn't seen the braids maid dressed yet, but she could already see her looking gorgeous in it.

"Isobel, uh, Evans Events, right?" she asked, "Daphney sent me in her place. She's sick and can't taste anything."

"Well, you're a good friend," Isobel smiled, "Nice to meet you."

Isobel led the way to the kitchen where the caterers had set up a bunch of cakes to test. Goddess looked over them and gave her a little smirk.

"Maybe it's unprofessional of me to ask," Goddess said, "But do you maybe wanna try these with me?"

"Maybe it's unprofessional of me to agree," Isobel said, "But why not?"

The next 45 minutes consisted of making eyes with a stranger while trying cake, creating a new form of foreplay out of nothing more than looks. It built slow until eventually they stood closer and Goddess made an excuse to make her try a bite off her fork. Isobel hummed softly in approval and watched as Goddess licked off the excess icing after her. It was small, but heat bloomed in her stomach at the sight.

As confident as Isobel was, this was also brand new territory. She'd danced with women, even kissed them, but she'd only ever slept with men. It was a travesty, honestly, but it seemed like she had a real shot at experiencing something.

"I think this is the one," Goddess said, nodding.

They wrapped that up as quickly as possible and yet it still felt like hours of talking and trying to make sure she didn't let this woman just leave. Eventually, when they finally finished finalizing that, Goddess turned to her.

"Would it be unprofessional to ask you to walk to me to my car?" she asked.

"I mean, technically, you're not my client and my day ended with finalizing the cake choice. What we do doesn't have to be professional," Isobel said boldly. Goddess smiled slow and suggestive and Isobel was losing her goddamn mind.

She walked her to her car and neither of them left it for the next 45 minutes.

.3.

"Don't tell Max."

"Oh, my favorite stories start like that, go on."

Isobel rolled her eyes at Michael and bit the tip of her thumb as she looked around to make sure no one overheard. She leaned against his shoulder.

"I'm gonna sleep with his new coworker."

Michael laughed, but he hid it by bowing his head when she dug her elbow into his side. Then her name was called and she left his side to grab the tray of four coffees. They waited until they got outside and started walking to the police station before they continued their conversation.

"How do you know she's into women?" Michael asked, "Actually, how do you guys do that? 'Cause I still haven't figured out how to do that if I'm not in a gay bar."

"It's all about the eye contact, Michael, Jesus, you know nothing," she scolded. He just snorted in response, waving for her to continue. "I brought Max coffee yesterday like I always do and I had to wait for him to get back and we talked a little bit and basically I know she's into me."

"She said that?"

"No, eye contact, keep up."

"Oh, okay," Michael said, "How can you tell the difference between, like, normal cop eye contact and flirtatious eye contact?"

"What do you mean? There's a clear difference between authoritative eye contact and 'fuck me' eyes," she said. Michael didn't respond right away and she gave an exaggerated sigh. "You poor, poor child."

"Yeah, whatever, I'm the one getting regular dick from a guy training to be a military officer and you're just making eyes at your brother's co worker, who's the real loser here?"

"Still you."

"Rude."

Isobel smiled and looped her arm with his, both of them grabbing their respective coffees and taking a sip as they continued walking towards the station.

When they stepped inside, she almost immediately saw Jenna Cameron sitting posted up on her desk. She was as gorgeous as she remembered and immediately went to give her the coffee she got her.

"Didn't forget you this time," Isobel said as Michael excused himself to give them space.

"Thanks," Jenna said, taking a sip slowly and maintaining eye contact. For a moment, Isobel could see how Michael blurred the two different types. But she could tell and it felt glaringly obvious. "You know, Max doesn't talk about you enough."

"Oh?" Isobel asked, smiling as she leaned against the desk, "Well, what is he leaving out?"

"From what I can tell," Jenna said, pausing to give her an obvious once over, "A lot."

"Well, maybe we can go out for drinks and I'll tell you anything you want to know," Isobel proposed. Jenna smirked and nodded.

"I'd like that," she said, "And maybe I can teach you a few things while I'm at it."

"Like what?" Isobel prodded.

Jenna just shrugged, coyly taking another sip of her coffee and keeping Isobel on her toes. She enjoyed every goddamn second.

"Just a couple of things," she said, "Maybe a couple different ways to use handcuffs. You know, if you're interested."

Isobel sucked in a deep breath and her skin felt hot. It was so, so forward. She was obsessed already. Sorry, Max.

"I'm interested. Absolutely."

"Good."

And Jenna taught her more than a few things.

.4.

It wasn't until she was 26 that Isobel realized something might be a little off.

"Shhh, it's okay," Isobel whispered, combing back Michael's hair as he threw up until there was nothing left to throw up and he was just dry heaving and sobbing into the toilet.

He'd gotten a call from one of Alex's brothers who gave a slightly incoherent spiel that boiled down to Alex's unit having been bombed and he hadn't been found yet. There was a chance he'd never be found or, if he was, he wouldn't be found alive. Michael was a mess.

It didn't quite make sense to her, mainly because she didn't realize he and Alex were still speaking. She thought they hooked up sometimes, but she didn't notice that Michael saw it as more than a hook up. And, yeah, you could be upset about a hook up or a friend dying, but... This was Michael. He was deteriorating in her hands.

She tried to think about a time maybe he'd let on that he was in a relationship with someone and couldn't remember it. She always just assume he was like her, not like Max, and thought dating was stupid. It was fun to hook up, but she never really craved more. Hell, ever since Michael encouraged her to ignore labels and just dive into her sexuality, she stopped worrying about that pressure all together. Every time someone asked when she was going to get married and pissed her off, she had Michael right there confirming her feelings right alongside her.

And now he wasn't.

"It's not okay," Michael choked out, "It's never gonna be okay."

Isobel laid her cheek between his shoulder blades, still combing through his hair and trying her damnedest to comfort him through something she couldn't understand.

"We-we were supposed to have more time," Michael cried, "This was supposed to be his last tour. He was supposed to come home. We were gonna get married, Isobel. Now he's just gone. He's gone. I didn't get to say goodbye."

Married. That one word rung in her mind through his whole speech. He wanted to get married. Her brother, the one person just like her, wasn't like her at all. He wanted to get married. She hadn't considered it. She hadn't wanted to.

She thought through the catalogue of people she'd hooked up with and not a single one had she ever wanted to actually be with romantically. It never crossed her mind. Was it possible she still hadn't met the one?

She pushed the thoughts out of her head for later. Michael deserved her full attention.

"It's not over yet," she whispered, "They might still find him."

"But–"

"And if they don't, then I'm here. You're not alone, okay?" Isobel promised him. Michael choked on a sob, but he nodded.

She held him until the phone called to say he was found alive. Barely, but alive.

They slept easier after that.

.5.

Josh, Brandy, Caroline, Sam.

Isobel dated every different type of person she could find, trying to find her person. They all either bored her, went too fast, or wanted to push boundaries that she didn't like being pushed. PDA was much different when it was something like holding hands and she didn't like it.

In fact, she hated all of it. She was almost 30 and she'd been dating even though she didn't really want to. She'd heard women online say it was fine to be single, but it still didn't sound right. She single didn't feel like the right word. She wanted something... just not that. She didn't know how to describe it.

"You think there's something wrong with me?" Isobel asked Michael as they laid out by the pool she'd had installed during the winter. He turned his head to her, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand.

"What?"

"I want like a perpetual fuck buddy instead of a boyfriend or a girlfriend," Isobel said, "I don't mind it being the same person for awhile, you know, but just not like that. Every time I've tried, everyone wants something different than I do. Is that so wrong?"

"No," Michael said, "Who said it was?"

"I mean, my mom, society," Isobel explained. Michael snorted.

"Fuck society."

"Yeah, but still. Even you have a person, what if I don't?" Isobel said. Michael shrugged.

"I wouldn't really call Alex my person," Michael said, "But I'm sure you have someone out there."

"What if I don't want one?"

Michael paused for a few seconds before saying, "You don't have to have one."

"Then why did you have a dramatic pause?" He stayed silent for too long again. "Michael!"

"Sorry, I'm just thinking," Michael said, "Is it commitment you're not interested in or is it the, like, romantic relationship part?"

She thought about it, but it didn't long to find her answer as she filtered through her failed relationships. It was fine up until the point they started expecting her to be a girlfriend or started treating her like one.

"Romantic part," she said as confidentially as she could. He hummed and laid back on the chair.

"Have you ever heard of asexuality?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I'm not that. Definitely not that," she said. He snorted.

"Yeah, but there's a word for the other side of things too. There's aromanticism, kinda sounds like what you're saying. Or at least what I know about it," he explained. Isobel's mouth felt a little dry.

"What happened to fuck labels?"

"I mean, yeah, still fuck labels. But they can be helpful sometimes when you feel alone," Michael explained, "And that might help. I can help you look into it."

"Okay," she agreed softly.

They stayed silent for a little longer as she mulled over the word. If that was it, then she had an answer. She liked the idea of having an answer. She also liked the idea of not having to fucking worry about something so trivial.

That sounded nice.

+1

"You're fucking married!"

"I'm fucking married!"

Isobel hugged Michael so tight she nearly lifted him off his feet. He just laughed helplessly, so unrelentingly happy. And she was happy for him. Maybe she didn't get it, but it didn't matter. He was happy and that mattered.

"This is so fucking weird," Michael laughed, looking around the room at their tiny little reception. Alex was sitting beside his brother, Greg, talking about whatever brothers like them talked about.

"I bet," she said, resting her head against his shoulder as they stared out at the party.

It took a little while, but Isobel finally realized that her relationships were just going to be a little bit different. Just remove the romance. It made it harder to find someone, but, honestly, it was worth it now that she had a word and an understanding. Queer platonic partners weren't easy to come by where they lived, but she didn't even care. She was finally happy with her situation.

"I'm so happy for you," Isobel said. She'd gotten to walk him down the aisle which was an unforeseen dream of hers. "You and Alex are gonna be so happy."

"I hope so," Michael breathed, "A long goddamn time coming. I'm ready to just fucking be with him without all the bullshit."

"Well," Isobel said, "Your time is now."

"Yeah."

He rested his cheek against her head and watched as Alex squeezed his brothers arm before getting up to go speak to someone else. Isobel watched as Greg sort of folded in on himself after Alex left, curling over his phone.

"Don't tell Alex, but his brother's kind of hot," Isobel noted. Michael snorted.

"You know what, Greg might actually be a good fit for you. His dad fucked him up real bad."

"Oh, thanks for that."

"No," Michael laughed, "I meant he's got a bad track record at girlfriends 'cause he doesn't give them enough attention or whatever. Married to his job, he said. But he's nice and he does his best, so I say go for it. See if you guys fit."

"Ooh," Isobel said, slowly peeling herself off Michael, "Gonna go see if I can offer something more his speed, you go blow your husband." Michael laughed and let her go.

"Oh, and, Izzy?" he said before she got too far. She hummed as she turned back to him. "You're my person. Not Alex. Just thought you should know."

And that meant more to her than anything else.

[bonesgadh]

My thoughts on the final season of Orange is the New Black:

Obviously, some heavy spoilers below:

If you ask me, Piper’s storyline outside Litchfield was, for the most part, a complete waste of time. Instead of having her getting stoned with her brother or going to that pointless retreat, why didn’t they have her doing something productive like helping other former inmates or writing her book?

Speaking of the book, I’m high-key disappointed they gave the memoir storyline to Judy fucking King. Call me cheesy but I was looking forward to the show ending with Piper writing her book just like she said she would in season 6. Such a missed opportunity.

I really, really wanted Taystee to be cleared of Piscatella’s murder. I don’t understand why they gave so much importance to Suzanne writting what really happened and Taystee showing the text to her lawyer if it wasn’t going to make a difference in the end. Chekhov’s gun, anyone?

I’m so relieved she didn’t kill herself. I guess as long as there’s life there’s hope fucking Cindy will confess the truth and justice will be served. In the meantime, I was happy Taystee found a new meaning to her life and decided to help other inmates have a better shot at rebuilding their lives after prison.

Daddy’s death caught me by surprise. That said, I didn’t notice her absence at all for the reminder of the season. I guess she was a one-hit wonder character.

I have the feeling they had no idea what to do with Frieda so they just had her do weird stuff like accumulating trash. 

Thank Christ they got rid of Badison so early in the season. Cringiest, most annoying character in the history of television.

Aleida is so stupid lmao. I get she wanted to protect her daughter from that pedophile but she fucked up. I was rooting for her to rebuild her life and I was disappointed at her.

I liked Suzanne coming to terms with her sentence and being more comfortable around people and making new friends. It’s what she deserves.

Why is Cesar out of jail? Didn’t Aleida say he was supposed to stay there until he was an old man?

So Yadriel isn’t Pepa’s biological father?

Shani, man. Her relationship with Nicky was so cute and you could tell she was different from Nicky’s other flings. She didn’t act like a stallion around her, she was sweet and considerate with her and her backstory was very sad. I’m pissed they weren’t endgame because they made such a good couple.

There was no need to kill off Lorna’s baby. That was unnecessary roughness.

What happened to Maritza left me devastated. That final sequence of her getting into the plane and all the other women who were deported as well slowly disappearing until there was no one left gave me fucking chills. It was tough to watch but it had to be done to make a point of how a good portion of the immigrants who get deported are young adults who have never lived anywhere else besides the US, but still they are not considered citizens.

I absolutely adore Fig. Her character development was one of the best in the show. Also I LOVE HER RELATIONSHIP WITH CAPUTO OMG.

Piper’s sister-in-law is annoying af. I bet she is one of those anti-vaccinations freaks.

Alex looked so damn hot in her flashback oh my god. 

Goodall is adorable! For real, what a gorgeous baby.

I was not expecting CO Fischer to make a comeback.

Healy is still a piece of shit.

I can understand why Piper developed feelings for Zelda. She represented the potential life she could lead now that she was a free woman, the opportunity to start over and leave prison behind (like Sophia advised her to). However, there wasn’t anything exciting about being with her, it was way too safe and that’s the exact opposite of what she had with Alex. 

Polly is even more annoying than she was before but Larry didn’t get on my nerves this time around, which surprised me. Maybe because his little prep talk is what pushed Piper to follow Alex to Ohio or maybe it was the nostalgia. Idk, but they brought him back in a nice way.

I felt really bad for Vinnie. He wasn’t only grieving for his son but he also had to see Lorna fall into that complete state of denial.

Sophia’s comeback was everything. She looked like a goddess and she seemed so happy and in control of her life. I thought we wouldn’t see her again after she got released from prison but I’m glad they managed to bring her back even for a couple of scenes.

Totally random statement but Piper looked very attractive at the benefit gala and the morning after. I don’t know if it was the hair or the way they did her eyes but she was smoking hot.

Danielle Brooks is the best actress in the show. Don’t @ me.

McCullough is the archetype of the psycho ex. I legit thought she was going to shoot Piper when she confronted her at her house.

Alex knows Piper so damn well. She is aware of the fact that Piper tends to run away from stuff when things get complicated and her choosing to have an affair with McCullough was her way to try to protect herself. Then again, I really thought they had moved on from that phase. 

Fig lying about being pregnant to help that woman get an abortion was such a strong moment. Also her calling out the double-standard of the guard who was opposed to the woman aborting but wanted her to get deported? Legends only.

Lorna is such a racist but I can’t bring myself to dislike her. If anything I’ve always felt a bit sorry for her.

Linda is such a bitch.

Tamika was the only warden who actually cared about making a difference. I’m sad she got fired because of something that wasn’t even her fault but her good deeds made a profound impact.

McCullough is so damn unstable but I can’t blame her for developing such strong feelings for Alex. She’s quite irresistible.

Alex acting all unattached and cold as she was breaking up with Piper was painful to watch. I knew it wasn’t real but for a hot second I thought that was it for them. 

The ICE storyline was out-of-this-world amazing. So powerful and brilliantly done, quintessential OITNB.

If you had told me six years ago I would cry like a baby with Pennsatucky’s death I would have laughed at you.

But for real, POOR PENNSATUCKY. I’m sorry she had to die for Taystee to stay alive.

Because of the ‘a fan-favorite character dies in the final episode to mark the end of the show’ trope I had the feeling they were going to kill either Red, Alex or Taystee. I was legit surprised when the final death was revealed to be Pennsatucky.

That Poussey flashback had me in tears.

Alex and Nicky’s goodbye scene was so sweet and I love they talked about eventually reuniting. They were my brotp.

What Larry told Piper when she visited him at his place was very interesting. When Piper told him she loved Alex he told her he believed her, but that he also thought she loved what Alex represented. I believe that was true at some point—well, for most of the series—and, unconsciously, Piper believed that as well. But, if anything, what they went through in season 7 helped Piper realize she did want to be with Alex. The extra limb analogy was amazing and I don’t think Jenji could have picked a better way to explain their relationship.

Hellman is the new warden? Gross.

My favorite part about the old inmates’ cameos was that they were shown doing the same stuff they did in Litchfield: Boo being tired of everyone’s bullshit, Yoga giving the mandala talk to new inmates, Gina feeling exasperated and Norma calming her down, Watson running and Alison checking her time, Angie and Leanne being stupid, Brook mooning over stuff.

I only missed two characters making a cameo: Sister Ingalls and Miss Claudette. I know most fans wanted to see Bennett again but fuck that coward.

Also wtf happened to Bayley? I kinda wanted to know.

Karla’s story broke my heart. I’m glad they included her character because her story is the story of millions of immigrants that are separated from their children, forced to return to their home countries and endure harsh conditions while trying to make their way back to the US.

Blanca really went out there and said “fuck it” to the american dream, didn’t she? In my opinion she had the best ending out of all the characters. I’m so happy she reunited with Diablo and is ready to live her life with him at last. My girl deserved it.

Maria’s storyline was so ‘meh’. It was way too similar to her season 6 storyline.

My mom Gloria had the second best ending. I was afraid they were going to punish her because of the phone thing but thankfully asshole Luschek finally did something right. I was rooting for her to have a happy ending and I’m glad she got it.

Also was that little girl living with Gloria and her kids her granddaughter? Because she was definitely younger than her sons but Gloria’s flashback stated her daughters are older, so I’m confused.

I really need to know if Aleida killed Daya. I hate it was left so open.

Flaca choosing to help immigrants was so sweet. I bet one of the reasons she did it was to stop them from suffering Maritza’s fate.

Fig and Caputo are adopting!

Cindy did not deserve a good ending after she ruined Taystee’s life. That made me so angry. I was really hoping she would confess the truth.

In the end, McCullough made Alex a favor by having her transferred to Ohio. She went back to minimum security, she was with friends and people she knew and far away from all the crap in max.

What happened to Red and Lorna was devastating. Red losing her identity and her memory was so tragic because of what a badass she was. Also I knew Lorna would lose it after her son’s death but it was heartbreaking. They deserved better.

It sucks balls Nicky lost every person who was important to her but despite that I liked her ending because, even though she suffered heartbreak after heartbreak, she found a way to keep herself sober and now she will help others the way Red helped her. It was the best way she could honor her.

Despite literally everyone around Piper advising her to leave Alex behind and forget about her (from her parole officer to her dad to Larry to Sophia) the fact that she chose to follow Alex to Ohio was a pleasant surprise to me. It showed her growth and how much she really wanted to be with Alex, and that she was not a mistake in her life but her life. I was never a Vauseman shipper but even I knew they had to be endgame, any other ending wouldn’t have made any sense. I feel bad for the shippers because it was a very tough season for them but love prevailed, so congrats.

I didn’t catch the Piper Kerman cameo until I saw someone mentioned it on twitter. That was so cool! Also I don’t know if this was intentional but I liked the visual parallel between Larry Smith & Piper and Piper Kerman & Alex. Larry waited for Piper for as long as she was in jail and never abandoned her, so I choose to believe Kenji and Co. are hinting at Piper doing the same thing for Alex.

It was a good decision to show us a glimpse of Piper’s new life. She has a stable job, a new home, she is studying about criminal law and using her time in a productive way, and also she looks happier than we ever saw her.

In conclusion, I liked the season very much. Orange is one of my favorite shows and I think they ended it in a very nice way. It was very well executed and, unlike other final seasons I have watched over the years, it never felt rushed to me. It was the best season in at least a couple of years and I’m in love with the series finale, I stand by my original statement that it is the best one I have ever seen.

I give it a solid B+, four-out-of-five stars, 8.5 out of 10.

Orange forever, indeed.

[cosmiceverafter]

Sprinkled Surprises of Hope and Love

Summary: Michael Guerin isn’t one for surprises, especially when it comes to his birthday. However, that won’t stop the love of his life and their friends from celebrating this curly-haired alien.

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift to my best friend, Beka! I am so unbelievably grateful that this fandom brought you and our friendship into my life. You’re my person forever and always. I hope you enjoy this fic! Happy Birthday, hun! Love ya lots! @i-never-look-away​

Read on ao3

Sprinkled Surprises of Hope and Love

Summer nights in Roswell, New Mexico were some of Michael’s favorite times in this place. Ever since he was younger, he’d drive out in the middle of the desert and just watch the stars shoot across the dark night sky. He would make a wish or two, but truthfully he’d never actually believed them to be true.

That is until he met Alex Manes.

Alex Manes was the love of his existence. Often he would think that the cosmos themselves brought the two of them together. Perhaps coming to earth was written in the stars long ago so he’d find this special human man. Alex was nothing short of a miracle to his life. He gave Michael all the reasons to hope and dream, and basically…want to be and do better.

Sure, they had their ups and downs, but Michael always believed that it was worth the journey to get to this final destination with his one true love. With no regrets made, he had stayed on earth for Alex.

“What are you thinking about, Guerin?”

His thoughts of the perfect man were interrupted by the man himself. Michael looked over and saw his love smiling over at him, the crackling fire illuminating that breathtakingly beautiful smile of his. “You, as always, Darlin.’”

“You’re such a charmer,” Alex laughed as he leaned in for a kiss.

Awe yes, kissing Alex Manes. There was nothing quite like it. He was always taken back in time to their first kiss at the UFO Museum. Truth be told, he wanted to kiss Alex long before that, but unfortunately, he had been too scared to let those feelings come in. Michael had been so vulnerable in those moments. When Alex had leaned in to kiss him after giving him a safe haven and the gift of music, he had pulled away not just out of fear, but out of hope for something more than the life he had been dealt. Michael knew he would’ve messed it all up, so he hadn’t wanted to give in to the dream of wanting someone like Alex Manes.

However, he was not that strong. All it took was one look of the guy in his alien-green painted visor to know he was a goner. Without thinking of all the complications it could bring to their life, he had given in to desire.

It was the greatest move of his life.

He was brought back to the present moment as Alex’s hands moved into his curls. Every kiss they shared seemed to take away his breath yet fill him with life at the same time. It was familiar and comforting, but unique and mesmerizing. Soft lips nipped and sucked as his; Alex’s tongue licking to be let in, which of course he would always extend an invitation for.

Their tongues moved together as the crickets serenaded them in an orchestra of the warm night. He pulled away breathlessly, “God, I love kissing you.”

Alex followed him and smiled against his mouth, the warm breath of his lover hitting his face gently in an embrace, “It never gets old, does it?”

“Never,” Michael answered honestly, “I could kiss you forever and it still wouldn’t be long enough.”

“Then we’d better take every opportunity we can then. We’re living our forever,” Alex whispered, moving his mouth to Michael’s once more.

Yes, this opportunity would not be wasted on drifting thoughts of years past.

But then Alex pulled away, as Michael whined, and looked down at his watch, “Oh! It’s officially midnight. It’s your birthday!”

“Yay….”

“Hey! It’s a big deal, Michael!”

He shook his head. Another year had come and gone on a day he wasn't even sure was his real birthday, “It’s just another day.”

“Not to me it isn’t,” Alex replied as he kissed Michael’s cheek.

“You have to say that because I’m your boyfriend.”

“Nah, it’s because you’re my boyfriend that I can tell you that you drive me absolutely crazy!”

Michael grinned, “In bed?”

“In all ways imaginable.”

“As it should be,” Michael answered with a sly smile.

“Happy Birthday, my love,” Alex whispered softly into the night.

They embraced tightly; this was what made Michael felt safe. As he held Alex in his arms, he looked up at the beautiful speckled sky not wanting to be anywhere else but here.

***

“A BBQ?”

“Yes, Alex, a BBQ at the cabin! We haven’t been there since lover-boy moved in with you,” Isobel laughed on the other line. “I want to see how you’ve made it your own, and to see if Michael trashed it yet.”

“I wouldn’t let him,” Alex replied with a shrug to no one. Truth be told, having Michael move in with him was the greatest gift a man could ever wish for. All walls were down between them. They were finally comfortable being with each other in every way. It was literally heaven on earth.

“That’s my boy!” Isobel exclaimed as Kyle gave a cheer in the background. The two of them had recently started dating, and Alex couldn’t be happier for the two of them. They both deserved some happiness in their life. Kyle was his best friend, and Alex was growing closer with Isobel by the day. He enjoyed her sassy spirit—it matched his own.

“What’s Kyle going to bring?”

“He’s going to help manage the grill and I’ll be marinating the steaks of course.”

Alex smirked, “Since when did you learn to cook, Iz?”

“Please, Alex, I’ve always been a good…” He heard a sigh in the background, “Kyle has been teaching me. But fine… we’ll let Max marinate, he lives for this crap, which you know thrills Liz!”

“Ahh, that’s what I thought.”

Isobel huffed, “He won’t even let me use my powers. Not even a bit.”

“Well, that’s just rude,” Alex laughed as he shook his head, “You’re Isobel Evans, when have you ever listened to expectations?”

“Hmm, you know something, my dear friend, you’re right! I’ll work a little magic with our drinks!”

“Sounds perfect,” Alex smiled widely. Then he took a small breath, “You think Michael will enjoy this?”

“It’ll be the best surprise birthday that alien’s ever received! Just you wait and see.”

Alex sure hoped so. He wasn’t sure how much his alien lover enjoyed… surprises.

***

Michael looked up at the clock high on the wall of the Wild Pony and groaned. It had already been almost two hours.

“What’s your problem, man?” Max asked as he took a long swig of his beer.

“Brother, as much as I love sitting here listening to you talk about Liz and the latest felon, there’s a certain human I’d like to spend the rest of my birthday with.”

“Awe, c’mon, Michael!” Max replied with a smirk, “When was the last time we just got to sit and hang out together?”

“Like three days ago at the Crashdown, remember? And you kept stealing my curly fries and it pissed me off.”

“I gave you the rest of my shake, I don’t see what the problem is.”

Michael shook his head, “You never steal a fry, my friend. It’s the Food Law—Code 3. You’re a police officer. Don’t they teach you these protocols at camp?”

“Camp?”

“Yea, you all run around and shoot cardboard people… maybe a few aliens in the mix. Then you get evaluated so you try to explain that the aliens are in fact the good guys, not the young little girl out at 3 am.”

Max laughed loudly and shook his head, “You watched Men in Black again, didn’t you?”

“It’s a classic! Even Alex agrees. Plus, you and I both know that organization exists.”

“How many times are you going to make that poor human watch that movie?”

Michael slyly smiled with a wink, “Until he forces me to stop. You know how I love when he takes charge.”

“Okay well, I hate to break it to you, partner, but the Academy wasn’t like that,” Max shrugged looking down at his phone. “But fine, I’ll get you to your man.”

“About damn time!” Michael said standing up quickly, almost knocking his hat off his head. Max gave him a ‘really’ expression, the one he excelled at and was most likely born with. “I mean, I had a wonderful time with you and we should do it again soon.”

Max grabbed him by the jacket and put an arm around him, “Yeah yeah, c’mon, you.” Michael couldn’t help returning the gesture.

***

“How many balloons do I need to blow up? I thought I was managing the grill,” Kyle mumbled as it was clear the good doctor was getting lightheaded.

“Um,” Liz looked over her shoulder, “Only about 16… maybe 20, to go.”

Kyle groaned as Isobel leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, “Honey, you’re doing a fabulous job. But um, they need a bit more air. They’re looking a bit… I don’t know, lopsided.”

“You have powers, why don’t you do it? It’ll go so much faster.” Kyle replied with a wink as he kissed Isobel.

“Ugh, do we need to see this all night?” Rosa groaned as she rolled her heavily lined eyes.

“Nope. Soon Michael will be here and you’ll get to witness the Cosmic lovers go at it,” Isobel exclaimed as she motioned to Alex. “And I’ll be using my powers for something else, thank you very much!” She winked his way and handed Rosa some green streamers.

Smiling, Alex shook his head as he heard a meow. He looked down to see Boots rubbing up against his leg. Scooping the small kitten up he said, “Hi little fella, is this too much excitement for you?”

Boots purred loudly and rubbed his face against Alex’s cheek in reply. He wasn’t just happy Michael moved in because he was in love; he was also happy because he just so happened to love Michael’s cat as well. Alex stroked the black and white fur. Boots touched his face softly with his white paws as Alex cradled him in his arms.

Just then he heard a bark and he looked over at his dog Buffy, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re still my number one girl.”

He bent down, still holding Boots, and rubbed Buffy’s ear gently as her tail started going back-and-forth wildly. She rolled over and he gave her a big belly rub, the ones she loved.

Alex sat Boots down, and he curled up nice and close to Buffy, who not only allowed it but seemed to welcome the warm snuggles. The two of them really were the best of friends. Just like Milo and Otis.

“Hey! Max just texted me, they’re on their way,” Liz called out from the kitchen, looking flushed in the cheeks as she continued running around.

Isobel jumped and down and clapped excitedly.

Grabbing his guitar and taking a big breath, Alex hoped like hell Michael would forgive him for all this. He really did.

***

Michael was getting annoyed. Really annoyed. He loved Max, truly he did, but the guy was driving slower than watching paint dry. He kept his mouth shut though, resisting the urge to use his powers, not wanting to ruin their now healed relationship.

He just wanted to be with Alex. It was hard enough to be away from the guy at any point, and this was his birthday, not that he cared much about that fact, but he knew Alex did and probably planned a nice dinner or somethin’ for the two of them.

Finally, they arrived at the cabin. He was about to turn to Max to say a quick goodbye and thank you, but Max was unbuckling and stepping out of his car. What the hell?

Max clearly caught on, “Oh, I’m not going to stay or anything. I know you probably have birthday plans with Alex. I just have to ask him something.”

Since when did Max ask favors from Alex?

Shrugging with a curt nod, ignoring the awkwardness, they walked around back where he knew Alex would be. The first thing he saw was twinkling lights hanging down from the trees.

As his mind was slowly comprehending what was happening, he was stunned into silence at the….

“SURPRISE!”

Michael jumped at the word, literally getting air off the ground, and looked around. You have got to be kidding me, he thought as he saw all of their friends standing there. But where was Alex?

Just as he was about to ask the most important question, he heard the music start to play.

Alex was sitting on one of their barstools next to the trees, holding his guitar. He blew a kiss in Michael’s direction, a wink, and started to sing.

It was the song A Million Dreams from The Greatest Showman, a movie they both had enjoyed. This song though...the way his voice hit the notes was mesmerizing. This was his gift for Michael; it meant so much to them both.

The first time they had watched it, they went to the local Roswell movie theater for date night, and when the song came on, their fingers had intertwined and Michael had leaned over whispering to Alex, “It’s like our journey and our future.”

Alex has nodded and pressed his lips to Michael’s, “Kind of like a song meant for us.” Their song.

He had remembered. Alex always remembered everything.

When he was done, everyone clapped as Alex smiled and nodded to Michael. Alex knew. He knew. Michael tried to ignore the tears forming quickly in his eyes and looked away, pulling his cowboy hat way low.

He was just so unbelievably touched at that moment. Music had always brought them together; it was the foundation of their relationship.

But before he could go kiss his boyfriend, Alex started playing again. This time “Happy Birthday.” They all joined in and he felt touched in another way.

They had all had their ups-and-downs with each other, especially with Kyle Valenti who sometimes he was still unsure of, but they had overcome so much. They were a family; they had made it so.

When they were finished, Michael cleared his throat. “Y’all, thank you.”

“How mad are you on a scale to 1 to 10?” Isobel questioned with a sisterly smirk, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t wanna know,” he replied, narrowing his eyes.

“Perfect! That’s what we were hoping for!” Isobel exclaimed excitedly as she rushed over to him and kissed him on the cheek. He hugged her, never wanting her to change her eccentric ways. She was one of a kind.

He looked over at Max, “Guessing you were in on it?”

“I took you day drinking, Michael,” his brother from another mother replied. “How you didn’t question that, is beyond me.”

They both laughed and hugged. The guy really wasn’t so bad after all, was he? Max had a heart of steel… literally.

The others came over one-by-one and shared a hug or in Kyle’s case, a handshake. It was touching really.

But there was one person he wanted to get to, above all the rest.

Alex was still sitting on the stool, letting their friends have this time with him. But Michael made his way over and grabbed Alex’s chin lightly, tilting it up, “Thank you. Thank you for the song, it meant the world to me.” Alex nodded and closed his eyes. “And thank you for planning all this.”

“You aren’t mad?” Alex opened his eyes and winced slightly, as he put his hands on Michael’s wrists. It didn’t take a genius to know this was mostly Isobel’s doing. Alex would’ve been more than fine sitting by the fire and eating together. They never needed to have showy things; they had each other and that was more than enough.

“Nah,” Michael replied, shaking his head. “Because I know you’ll make it up to me later. In so many different ways.”

Alex’s eyes widened, then filled with desire. When Alex looked at him in that way, Michael wanted to rip his clothes off. He had to control himself so he didn’t do it with his powers, something he had recently done.

“Kiss me,” Alex answered softly, his bottom lip full and pouty. It needed to be sucked on, and he volunteered always as that tribute.

As they kissed softly, Michael felt as though he could finally catch his breath.

He heard Rosa groan in the background and Isobel chuckle, “Didn’t I tell you we’d witness some ‘Cosmic exchanges?’”

Now Michael shook his head and turned to glare at the group, “It’s my birthday and I’ll kiss my man if I want to.”

Liz laughed, her long hair swaying, “Should we just be on our way then?”

Michael grinned and looked towards their cars, “Well….”

“Absolutely not!” Isobel said with that party planner gleam in her eyes. “The party is just getting started!

And party they all did. It was a wonderful evening, to Michael’s relief. They ate delicious food, which Liz, Kyle, and Alex managed. The three humans laughing over old memories. The drinks were exceptionally tasty and he kept noticing Isobel winking at Alex; information he’d pry out of his lover later. He enjoyed the fire with Max and Rosa, who talked old bands and good music as Rosa played some music of her own with Alex’s guitar.

The cake was a special one that Liz, Rosa, and Arturo made. It had an alien on top, with green frosting running down the sides. It was delicious, and his alien insides were very happy. There were lots of candles on top. Michael smiled knowing very well, he could possibly be older or younger than that.

They gave him some gifts. A really nice whiskey, a new belt and shirt that he actually really liked, and a few books. He loved to read, especially at the cabin. The people surrounding him knew him better than he ever realized.

He enjoyed the conversations, the music, and the company of his furry pets as he rubbed Buffy’s ears; the red kerchief he gave her was tied loosely around her neck. Occasionally he’d look at the window and see Boots staring sadly out the window clearly wanting to join the party. He’d go into the cabin and give his kitten some lovin’. Boots was too small to be let outside, so he’d have to bring the attention inside. Rosa and Isobel were so fond of the cat and demanded to also share the affections of his little one. Boots was thrilled, purring loudly.

They all eventually made their way around the fire, telling jokes and stories of the adventures they had all gone on together. It had been one wild ride. He was grateful for all of it, even the rough times. They shaped who he was and you know what? That was more than enough.

***

After everything was cleaned, and they had gone deep into the night, everyone finally said their goodbyes.

Alex had found him on their porch, as he was looking up at the night sky once more. Leaning over, Alex put his arms around Michael and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Did you have a nice birthday, sweetheart?”

Michael sighed and leaned back so he could look at Alex from within his arms. “You know what? I really, really did, baby.” He smiled softly and kissed Alex’s hand gently, “Thank you.”

“It was Isobel’s idea really,” Alex replied with a grin, “but I did think it was a good opportunity for you to see how loved you are.”

“Guess I do need you all to remind me from time to time.”

“I’ll help to do that, my love, always.”

They gazed up at the night sky, the beginning and the end of their night.

Michael held tightly to Alex’s hand, his lifeline, and his anchor that kept him grounded. Michael looked up at Alex as his love looked down at him.

“I love you, Michael.”

“I love you, Alex.”

They spoke the words at the same time; double the meaning, double the love.

Michael grinned as Alex sat down next to him, “Maybe they were right about our ‘Cosmic exchanges.’”

“That’s how it’s always been with us.” Michael nodded in reply at the truth of Alex’s words. He was right of course; the course of their relationship was written in the stars. As if by magic, a shooting star suddenly danced across the night sky. “You better make a birthday wish!” Alex said as he looked up at the heavens.

Michael looked at his beautiful Alex and felt his heart swell. So this was what true happiness felt like, sprinkled with a dash of hope. What more could he ever want when he had the whole world next to him? He brought Alex’s hand softly to his lips once more and said, “It already came true.”