#id tear my life apart if it meant i got to spend just a few seconds more with you

[redtippedcanines]

i don't trust you anymore

[yeojaa]

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud.  Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or:  Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing.  tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  slice of life fluff, light smut.  explicit (but only at the end). 

tags / warnings.  mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc.  7.6k.

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​, @papillonsgf​, and @yeoldontknow​​ 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note.  i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this.  it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless.  as always, feedback means a lot! 

You and forethought aren’t close friends.  You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree.  You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is.  Careful consideration?  Thoughtful patience?  None of that exists for you.  At least, not when you really, really want something. 

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.  

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this.  Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid.  By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.  

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment.  Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to.  When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed.  (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right? 

“Everyone’s fully booked.”  The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial.  (You don’t blame her.)  By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal.  You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue.  “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice?  Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable.  Well-known.  Considered one of the best in the city.  Surely their apprentice would be fine.  Just less seasoned, not as experienced. 

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter.  “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall.  “Last room on the left.  His name’s Jungkook.  His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.”  It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves.  Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told. 

“Jungkook?”  There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight.  (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.)  It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else. 

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting:  one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits.  Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine.  A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall;  one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it.  There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath.  All in all, very homey.  Reminiscent of your own apartment.) 

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space.  “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples. 

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for.  Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.  

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe.  It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin.  “Are you okay?”  He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way.  Good for him, but worse for you. 

He’s so cute.  Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.”  You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete.  “Um— I was told you might have some time?  For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering?  You’re never shy.  Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess.  People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!”  Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder.  He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway.  “Yeah, I’ve got time.  Come in.”  Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek;  the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip;  each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks.  “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no.  You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook?  He was that.  In spades. 

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”  He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table.  It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display.  “I’ve got a pretty big selection.” 

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him.  This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation. 

“So—”  He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen.  You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt.  It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion;  it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles.  He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling.  The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity.  “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.”  It really is.  You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink.  “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question.  Of course it did.  It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally.  “Like crazy, but it was worth it.  This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—”  He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.  

“A piece of cake?”  You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you.  (It doesn’t.  You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap.  “Do any of these interest you?”  He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash.  There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf).  They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.”  It catches your eye more than the others have.  Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines.  A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do.  “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.”  He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled;  you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion.  A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen.  “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy.  Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no.  You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.  

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though.  You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it.  You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life.  There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,”  you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.  

“Do you have your ID?”  You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form.  “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come. 

Alone, the nerves set in.  You’re actually doing this.  Getting a tattoo.  Putting something permanent on your body.  It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap.  Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come.  (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.) 

(But had you really made up your mind?  Was this going to be it?  It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise.  It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!”  Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope.  You eye it curiously.  “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”  

He’s really thought of everything.  Or the shop has.  Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?”  It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand.  (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.) 

You hadn’t thought about that.  You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away.  “My arm?”

“Upper?  Forearm?”  There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative.  He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you. 

“Tricep area, I think?  Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.”  Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same.  “I’m kidding.  That was cheesy.  But I’m sure it’ll look fine.  We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?” 

“That sounds good.”  A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement. 

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake:  wearing a turtleneck.  “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like.  Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon?  Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)? 

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule.  Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside.  Whatever you’d prefer.” 

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill.  You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.  

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way?  He was probably desensitized.)  

“It’s fine.”  You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly.  Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though.  Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater.  It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath.  Two. 

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him.  “All right.  Let’s do this.” 

“So, which arm?”  He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.  

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello. 

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers.  You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.”  It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror.  “It’s so pretty.” 

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face.  “Thanks.”  He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful.  “What do you think?”

“This is it.  Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool.  As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee. 

“All right.  We’ll shave you down and get started.  You like the colours, right?”  Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart.  It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes.  (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.)  He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him.  “Hop on up.  Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace.  It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.  

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?”  You’d misheard that, right? 

“Your skin.  You’re sparkling.”  He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.  

“Oh.”  Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly.  “It’s my soap.” 

“Sparkle soap?”  Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure.  He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before.  (Which, fair.) 

“It’s this specialty holiday soap.  It has pigment in it.” 

“That’s cool.”  He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm.  “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree.  It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does.  Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot.  “Thanks.” 

“Was that weird?  I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.” 

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.  

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle.  “Ready?” 

Honestly, you’re not sure.  Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog.  Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue.  “I think so.” 

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee. 

“All right—”“  The incessant buzzing stops.  Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel.  “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you.  Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.) 

“Can I see?”  You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face. 

“Yeah, go ahead.  Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right.  You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet.  It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you. 

“Careful!”  It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.  

“Sorry, sorry.”  You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede.  Everything straightens out quickly enough.  “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?”  He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall.  “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art.  “I’m fine.”  That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.”  The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open.  Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words,  “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention.  It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours.  It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.  

“You like?”  

“I love.”  You’d stare at it for hours, if you could.  Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie.  “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head.  Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose.  Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into.  “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one.  It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink.  (You half expect him not to answer;  you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.) 

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.  

“So, what’re you thinking?”  

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking.  Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history.  You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece.  “A sleeve?”

That surprises him.  His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously.  “Like, a full sleeve?”  It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable.  “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high.  “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,”  he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea.  “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.”  He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up.  For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing.  (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.)  “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan.  It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there.  He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.  

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”  

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions.  It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin.  A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep.  Another takes up the entirety of your forearm.  There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi.  It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.  

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch.  You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.”  Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap.  “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers.  Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat.  He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up.  Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.  

“You mean we did it,”  you return, giddy like a child.  

“Ah, right.”  The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled.  “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey!  Screw you!”  You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.  

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more.  It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head.  Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow.  You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm.  That in itself had hurt like a biiitch;  you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?”  He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to.  It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.  

“Yes, you are.”  You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares.  This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together.  (Not that you’d complain.  You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful.  “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration.  “You wouldn’t dare.”  You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.  

“Wouldn’t I?  I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”  

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed?  You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation.  Had he mentioned it previously?  Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain?  No, you would’ve remembered that.  You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.”  How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea.  You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway.  Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago.  (God, your memory is good.  If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.)  “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.  

“Gonna miss me?”  

Would it be inappropriate to say yes?  Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question.  You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).  

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own.  “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,”  he answers, offering honesty to your reticence.  “You can still send me funny photos though.”  

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile.  “I guess you’re right.  Will you still be tattooing?”  It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know.  You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.”  Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin.  “Actually, where I got most of mine done.”  You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith.  He’s finally come full circle.  You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.  

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to.  It wouldn’t feel right otherwise.  “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,”  he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair.  It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn.  “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,”  you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder.  You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go.  It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk.  “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”  

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you.  It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available.  (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.)  “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black.  You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.  

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?”  He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to.  (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?)  “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended.  “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”  

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you.  “Hey, I don’t judge.  You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there.  Used your own impulsive history against you.  “I would never.”  

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what?  Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him.  “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth.  There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up.  You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”  

“Really?”  You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face.  “Then why don’t you have one?”  He has a million others as it is:  a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs.  (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)  

“And hide all this?”  One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home.  “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual.  “But I’m cuter.  It’d be a shame if it were me.  You…”  The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean.  (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.)  “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”  

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him. 

“I’m kidding.”  You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries.  A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke.  “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them?  Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was.  Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met.  It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?”  The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.  

Were you?  You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really?  You can’t?”  You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it.  But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously.  It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears.  “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”  

Had he?  Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall.  Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of;  accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff).  Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought.  You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,”  you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.  

“I think you’re cute,”  he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff.  The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week.  The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb.  (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer.  “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.”  Where the confidence comes from, who knows.  You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering.  It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits. 

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go. 

Then he does the last thing you expect:  shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.  

(His lips are so soft.  A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate.  Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him.  French fries and beer and his Chapstick.) 

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.) 

“You just kissed me.”  It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.  

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.”  Speaking the words into existence feels bad;  you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.  

“I am.”  At least he’s realistic.  It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay. 

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose. 

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.  

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next.  (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass.  Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers.  An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,”  the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials.  You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation. 

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof.  The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin.  You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous.  It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left. 

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed.  He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders.  You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,”  he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity.  It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,”  you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped.  You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was.  As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though.  You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow.  He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?”  You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder.  Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again.  (You’re proud of that.  It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”  

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine.  You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness.  Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad.  Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around.  It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper.  He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror.  “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals.  Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care.  Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre.  You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life.  It means so much - like progressing to the next level.  

Which, you suppose it is.  This is a fresh start for you.  A new beginning in a new city.  

“Proud of you,”  he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips.  He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.  

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago.  A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,”  you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.  

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual.  “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that.  You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome.  From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.  

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this:  a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had;  to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.  

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that.  Made it worth it in ways you had never considered.  Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?”  He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself.  It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.  

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.”  The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?”  You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets.  It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that.  He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.  

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised.  “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?”  Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job? 

(It truthfully could be.  You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.”  All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine.  “You don’t like when I admire my own work?”  Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit.  The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need.  (Because you really do need it.  You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.)  It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once. 

“Kook,”  you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.”  He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin.  They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas.  A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care.  Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits.  When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”  

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt.  “I’ve missed this,”  he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.  

“Missed you too,”  you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.  

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​ @snackhobi​​​​ @codeinebelle​ @xjoonchildx​

[mehphoobia]

HERE

Pairing- Tom Hiddleston x Reader (news channel anchor)

Summary- People say falling in love can be a scary experience. Well, that scary experience for you had a different meaning for you.

Warnings- blood, horror, mystery, thriller, suspense (I suggest get a water bottle for yourself)

REQUESTS OPEN | MASTERLIST

_____________________________🤍____________________________

"Susan Hive, another 25 y/o was found dead in her apartment approximately at 10:00 am today. Who is the mastermind behind these brutal murders? the mystery is still with the police to crack. The only witness in the case are the walls of the apartment which are covered in parts of human anatomy never seen before just like the other five murders. This is Y/N of NewsToday with cameraperson David on scene." You sighed after finishing your report and looked at the crime scene. The camera person packed his camera and headed towards the van as he couldn't handle the stench. With ripples on your forehead you contemplated your decision. Should you or should you not tell the officers.

But soon you let aside your dilemma. These were brutal murder cases that had everyone shook.

And you had a lead to follow.

"Who are you?" you whispered as you sat in your chair staring at the photo of the deceased Susan Hive with a man. The face was not visible as he wore a black hat and a black overcoat. "Typical" you said gesturing his attire, which was straight out of a murder mystery. Unfortunately, the officers couldn't find him. But the lead you had could directly deliver this man to you.

"North House please" explaining the address to the taxi driver, you couldn't miss his expressions. "You want to go to the North House?" he asked you with genuine concern. "If you are not comfortable, you can just drop me near the curb" you suggested understanding his hesitation. Reluctantly he drove the taxi and there you were. Standing outside the hospital for mental patients. "How much will it be?" asking the driver for the fare you rummaged through your purse.

"I will wait here miss. You can pay me later" he said. Of course, the deaths in this hospital would scare anyone. But you weren't here for the suicides, you were here for the murders.

"I am here to see someone. A Mrs. Hill." you spoke confidentially to the receptionist. "For an investigation, are we?" the receptionist questioned. "It's confidential" you replied with knitted eyebrows. "oh! of course it is." she chuckled.

The receptionist accompanied you to Mrs. Hill's room. She was the oldest patient, who had been in the hospital for for around thirty years. Every patient, every staff member; she had seen for herself. "Are you here for the investigation for Susan Hive?" the receptionist questioned. Your head whipped faster than the wings of a bee. "You knew her?" you enquired. "Yes, I knew all five of them. They were interning under me." she answered.

"Janice Dean" her ID card read. "Of course" you murmured. Ten days back you had found one of the victim's case file from the officers which had something in common. North House, all three of them worked here and now so did Susan Hive.

"Don't worry I won't bug her too much" putting a and on Ms. Dean's shoulder you reassured her. She offered you a tired smile. With that she unlocked the door and you saw Mrs. Hill sitting on her chair.

"He killed another one didn't he?" she enquired in her shaky voice as if she knew it was going to happen. "Yeah. Do you know you he is?" trying to keep your posture, you asked. "No, but I have seen him." she replied. "Black eyes which weren't even his. Long hair which covered his face and the cuts." "Everyone thought, something was wrong in his head. They tried all kinds of medicines but none of them worked. He kept screaming and yelling every day. It would echo you know. The screams. Other patients could feel it too. But the doctors didn't know something." she explained but suddenly trailed off.

"He was possessed" she declared.

"How did he get out. I mean the patient like--" "Demon" she corrected. "We saw a body lying in his room. We thought its him. He had cuts all over his face so it was recognizable. The post mortem reports found out it was one of our doctors. He escaped as his disguise." explained Ms. Dean.

You couldn't get the fact out of your head as you stepped outside the hospital. With quivering hands, you opened the taxi's door. Looking at your condition, the driver ran to the opposite side of the street and bought you a water bottle. "You should go home miss." the driver suggested. "Beverly Hills Apartments please". The driver nodded and drove you home.

Maybe you should tell the police. It was not your job to go after the killer. Of course it would be one of the biggest news article for your company but this, its not worth it. Just then your phone rang. All of that tension and weird feeling in your chest was replaced by a sense of comfort. It was Tom.

"Hey babe! dinner's ready, when are you coming home?" he asked in his cheerful voice. You chuckled and said, "I started right now. Is my kitchen all right?" you mocked. "Uh..sort of. I'll help you clean though" he replied like a child caught doing something wrong. It was comforting to have him in your life. Amidst all of this, he was the exact person you needed. "Love you honey" you said unexpectedly. He could sense your uneasiness and knew your line of work. It can be terrifying sometimes. "Love you too..Hey, I am right here." he said immediately putting a smile on your face.

You met him three years ago. How boring can news conferences be? it was something you knew very well. But it was a little bit tolerable when a hot shot investigating officer suddenly made his way to you. Tom and you immediately clicked. As if you were meant to be. One date led to another and suddenly he started picking you up from your work almost every single day. You remembered he had proposed on your cruise date which had you in complete awe. How could you say no to such a perfect man. His beautiful eyes which were a perfect peek to your universe, his warm embrace and how he fit in your life perfectly made it so much easier. He made it easier.

The sudden nostalgia calmed your nerves and you took a deep breath in. Within no time you were home. You leaped out of the taxi, paid the man and ran to your apartment. As you were going to ring the bell, Tom opened the door and picked you up in his arms. Both of you giggled as he kissed you passionately. With your fingers curling in his long wet hair and his arms coiling your waist, you could melt under his effect and you did.

"Tada!! Fish N chips" Tom declared in his voice that he called his disney voice. You chuckled at his endearing self. Both of you couldn't spend enough time with each other with all these murders. He too was tensed but never showed it in front of you. The least you could do was to help him out. You watched your favorite drama as the both of you ate your dinner.

After the chocolate ice-cream, he got up to get the wet wipe to wipe your face which was covered in chocolate. You were gone out cold because of the tiring day. He picked up the plates and noticed you had run out of kitchen soap. "Back in a few" he wrote on a post it and pasted it on the fridge. He wore his black overcoat and decided to forego his phone and left.

"Tom? babe?" you woke up around five minutes and searched the house. Suddenly the post it note grabbed your attention. You chuckled when you saw it and you knew a lot of unwanted things were gonna be purchased. Who could help it, its Walmart after all.

You saw his phone and found his headphones on the table. He would sit on his chair for hours and listen to his music but he never shared them with you. So you grabbed the opportunity and plugged in his headphones.

"19-21-19-1-14 8-9-12-12" the first song read. Then you realized it was a recording. "Mr Hiddleston sings?" you scoffed as you pressed the play button.

"Ahhh" a woman screamed and with that you immediately grabbed the headphones and threw them. "Oh God" you whined as you rubbed your ears. You played all the five recordings and all of them were similar. Screams. Then it hit you. The numbers were different and were too wrong to be dates. WHAT IF?

"19,S,21,U,19,S,1,A,14,N 8,H,9,I,12,L,12,L" you wrote on a piece of paper. "Susan hill?" you gasped. All the other four recordings added up to the all the other four victims. You sat there staring at the paper.

"It took you long enough" Tom spoke from behind you. You flinched as walked away from him. "Did you?" you asked. "The screams, oh my soul was cleansed" he said as he put his hand on his chest. Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you looked at his face. He was in content, in peace. "Why did you kill them? What had they done to you?" you enquired.

"THEY LAUGHED!!" he yelled. Your eyes widened as you looked at him. It wasn't your Tom, it was someone else.

He was possessed.

"They fucking laughed when I was being experimented on. I cried for help but they were too busy laughing. Fucking bitches" he scoffed. "You know when I made cuts on their skin how peaceful it felt. Slowly, deeply I dragged my knives on their skins and watching them slowly dying because of the pain. So good. They were the ones who cried and screamed and I was the one who laughed." He was a maniac explaining his masterplan. Little did he know everything he said, you were recording it all.

"You think you can run away with it?" you mocked trying to make him spill out. "How will they know Y/N? I am the chief investigating officer." he ran the tip of his fingers on your cheeks. But you didn't waver, he was a demon. "All this time I have been trying to erase all the evidence" he spoke as he turned his back on you.

"But you?" he turned and walked towards you. He bought his face closer to your neck and kissed your neck. If it were any other day, your eyes would slowly close themselves as he would press you against the surface. But today there was nothing but tears. "You are my favorite. I can't leave any witnesses. But don't worry, your screams will live in my recordings. You know how much I love making you scream now don't you my love?" He laughed sheepishly.

THUD THUD. The bang on the door grabbed his attention. He looked at you made a sign with a finger in his lips. Was this the man you loved? Who was he? You thought as you looked at him slowly unlocking the door.

"Ahh LEAVE ME GET OFF" he yelled in surprised as the police officers pinned him on the floor. Slowly you got your phone in front of him which you were hiding behind you and showed him the 911 number. The officers dragged him away but his hooded eyes would not leave your soul.

Two days later, while clearing his room. You found a notebook with all the five victim's name on it which was struck of with a red marker and also five knives covered in dried blood. "Why?" you whimpered as tears made their way down your cheeks. Your company had printed one of the biggest hit ever and were at the top. You were promoted and were appreciated by everyone but at what cost? You were scarred for life.

Back in the North House, Mrs Hill was sitting on her chair as the receptionist were cleaning her room. "Oh no" Mrs Hill exclaimed. "What is it Nana?" enquired Ms. Dean. "Y/N call her!! NOW"

Something was going to happen.

At the prison cell, all the officers were in havoc as one of the security guard was found dead in Tom's prison cell. Hysterical laughs and water droplets echoed through the hallway as Y/N was written on the wall and was struck of by the dead security guards' blood.

You were sleeping when Ms. Dean called you. "Hello" you spoke in your grumpy voice, the sleeping pills were slowly kicking in. "T-TOM!" her line was cut because of the heavy rain. Just then you got a message that Tom had escaped.

"What? where did he go?" you murmured to yourself and then you heard it. The hysterical laughter and the sound of the recording button being pushed.

"I am right here my love" he said.

_____________________________🤍______________________________

A/N: Hey guys, here is my first Tom Hiddleston fic. For the those of you who don't know me personally I am a contemporary dancer and this fiction I had seen being performed on the stage. I loved the suspense and I loved writing it even more. Writing this was a challenge and it was a wonderful experience and I hope you all like this as well.😘

Tom Hiddleston is such a versatile actor and just fits in any character which is the main reason why I love him so much. It was very easy for me to visualize his demeanor in this character and I tried my level best converting it into words. Let me know what you think about this fic.😃

REQUESTS OPEN | MASTERLIST

My requests are open. So ahead and check my masterlist and send me your plots.

Love yourself...you are worth it❣❣

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

Everyday Heroes

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Warnings: A few curse words, an explosion, implied injury, depressed reader, minor character death, grief, and a bit of pining

Word Count: 3,364

Author’s Note: This got out of hand and apparently I only know how to write hopeless pining. Do we agree that Marcus gives off Clark Kent vibes or am I alone in this?

Summary: The three times you discovered Marcus Moreno was a hero. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

When you’d left the house that morning, the heels you wore had seemed like a great idea. 

You were headed in for your first day at your new job and you wanted to make a good impression by wearing what you perceived to be your most professional outfit. You’d made it to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment with minimal difficulty, though you were certain to have blisters on your feet by the end of the day. Thankfully, your receptionist position meant that you would spend the majority of your day more or less chained to the front desk, answering phones, taking messages, scheduling appointments, and greeting visitors. 

You didn’t know much about Vil-Tech. You’d googled them before your first interview, of course- you weren’t a total idiot and you’d never dare show up unprepared, especially when you needed this job so badly- but your search had yielded only a few results. Most of what you’d found had been articles from the newspaper. The researchers at the lab had, apparently, recently had some success in clean energy technology. Protons, neutrons, particle accelerators, electromagnetic fields… You knew nothing about it, really, but it sounded impressive. And clean energy had to be good, right? When they’d hired you, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal that you knew next to nothing about the company itself. They were only looking for a receptionist, after all, not a scientist. If they’d wanted you to know exactly what was going on in the floors above you, you were sure that they would have let you know. 

With your coffee in hand, you made your way towards the Vil-Tech building. All in all, it seemed like the universe was on your side this morning. You’d woken up early enough to make yourself look decent. Your favorite barista had made your coffee just the way you liked it, and it even looked like you would be early for work. 

And then it all seemed to happen in slow motion. 

The upper half of your body was already moving forward, even as the heel of your shoe remained firmly wedged in the sidewalk crack. You felt the coffee sloshing around in the stainless steel travel mug in your hands, threatening to douse your crisp white blouse in the steaming beverage. You blindly threw your hand out in front of you, bracing yourself to hit the concrete and thinking to yourself that this was just one of those days when this might as well happen. 

But the harsh impact you’d prepared yourself for never came. 

It had taken you a moment to process that someone had caught you. Someone with impeccable reflexes, it seemed, as not only had they rescued you from taking a humiliating fall in the middle of a busy sidewalk, but they also managed to save your coffee without spilling a drop. To say that you were impressed by the feat was an understatement.

But when you looked up at your savior, you were damn near speechless. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his dark eyes finding yours from beneath his black-framed glasses. And, other than the approximately thirty-seven heart attacks you’d had in the span of 2.5 seconds only moments before, you found yourself nodding in confirmation. 

“I’m fine. I… Thank you,” You breathed out, a warm, tingly feeling spreading out from your chest and right down to your toes. Gods, he had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. He appeared to be somewhere in his mid-forties, and wore a leather jacket with his slacks and tie, a combination you’d never quite seen before, but decided suited him quite well. 

“Are you sure? You look a little dizzy,” He noted. His arm was still around your waist, and you were grateful for it, because you didn’t quite trust the integrity of your knees at the moment.

After a few moments, which had exceeded the socially acceptable amount of time to moon over a stranger while clutching their remarkably toned biceps for dear life by a long-shot, your brain finally seemed to catch up to the rest of you, and promptly flooded your thoughts with embarrassment. You released your death-grip on his arms immediately, trying to maintain your dignity as you yanked your heel from the concrete crevice in a distinctly unladylike manor. All the while, the handsome stranger remained right there, dutifully holding your coffee and trying his best to hide the amusement in his eyes with a polite smile. 

Taking a deep breath and smoothing out your outfit, you nodded at him once again. “I’m fine,” You said in what you hoped was your most composed voice. He promptly handed you your coffee, and you swore you felt electricity when his fingers brushed against yours. 

“Glad to hear it,” He remarked, “That would have been a nasty fall.” 

“Nice save, Clark,” You joked, attempting your most charming smile. Were you flirting? Could you even consider this flirting?

“Clark?” He repeated, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

“You know, Clark Kent… with the glasses and... lightning-fast reflexes… saving me from an incredibly embarrassing moment?” You explained weakly. It wasn’t as if you’d never spoken to an attractive man before, but it seemed that the universe was decidedly not on your side this morning after all.

“Superman?” Another smile found its way to his face. He seemed flattered by your comment. “My daughter loves those comics.” At the mention of his daughter, your eyes quickly darted down to his left hand. There was no wedding ring there, but it was clear that there had been one there in the past. 

“Well, your daughter has excellent taste. And we could all use a few more heroes in our lives, right?” You sighed wistfully, before adding, “Thank you, by the way.” 

“It was no big deal,” He assured you. “I’m always happy to help a pretty lady in need.” 

You laughed quietly at the last part, finding the cheesiness of it adorable. You weren’t quite sure why you were still lingering on the street corner, except that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to walk away just yet. He seemed equally as reluctant to part from you, both of you grinning shyly at one another as you soaked in the meet-cute moment. Right up until his eyes fell to the ID badge clipped to your bag, that is. 

“Is that a Vil-Tech badge?”

There was a hint of disappointment in his tone that you couldn’t quite assign a cause for. It wasn’t the question you were expecting. You’d expected him to ask your name, or maybe offer you his, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head by now, so you humored him.

“Yep,” You confirmed. “It's my first day. I’m just a receptionist, though…” 

He nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together. He didn’t even try to hide his frown. What was it about Vil-Tech that seemed to bother him so much?

“I’m really sorry, but I’m running late for work,” He said finally, nodding in the direction you had just come from. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes staring into yours as he spoke with the utmost seriousness. “Good luck on your first day, and… Look after yourself, okay? Vil-Tech might not be what you think it is.” 

And with that, he brushed past you, seemingly in quite a hurry as he disappeared into the crowd and left you standing there, disappointment sinking deep into your bones. 

You didn’t even get his name. 

***

You didn’t see him again for a month. 

Not that you often thought about him or his dreamy eyes and ridiculously charming smile or his strong arms around your waist. And definitely not that you sometimes idly wondered where he was and how his day was going while you were grocery shopping or stuck at the laundromat. 

Okay, maybe you did. 

Maybe you went to that same coffee shop every week day, hoping that you might bump into him again. 

And maybe you sometimes imagined those eyes staring into yours and arms around you in situations where you weren’t making a complete fool of yourself. 

You felt silly for being that girl. The one who falls hopelessly in love with strangers you pass on the streets, with anyone who thinks that anyone who so much as holds the door open for you could be your true love. You were a grown up, for goodness sake. You weren’t supposed to believe in that kind of thing anymore. 

But it was those ridiculous daydreams you found yourself caught up in when a team of Heroics stormed into Vil-Tech on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“I apologize, sir, but Dr. Pershing is out of the office today…” You sighed, listening to the supplier ramble on and on about the importance of Dr. Pershing returning his call. You had already scribbled the message down, along with his name and phone number. “Yes, I’ll be sure to give him the message.” It was difficult to hide the exasperation in your tone. 

“That’s what you said the last time,” The man snapped. “Pershing didn’t return my calls for a week. I don’t know why they can’t hire someone who knows how to take a message properly. God knows they’ve got the money for it.” 

You tapped the tip of your pen against the notepad on your desk, feeling a lump beginning to form in your throat. “I apologize, Mr. Wells. I’ll make sure that Dr. Pershing gets your message as soon as he returns.” 

“You’d better,” He grumbled, before the line went dead. 

You let out a slow breath, easing yourself back from the edge of tears. It had been like this all morning. The scientists in the building were off at a conference for the week, leaving you behind to copy down messages and field angry phone calls. 

Stan, the elderly security guard, if you could call him that, offered you a sympathetic smile from his post by the door. You returned it weakly.

Closing your eyes, you tried to think of something else. Brown eyes, charming smile, strong arms. You repeated it like a mantra. Electricity. The feeling of safety. That warm, fluttering feeling in your stomach, and a rush of calm. 

When you opened your eyes again, you found Stan staring slack-jawed as the Heroics sprinted into the building, announcing to you, Stan, and the maintenance staff that you all needed to clear the building immediately. They offered no explanation for their frantic demands, but when a guy in spandex and a cape tells you to go, you go. You were sure that, whatever it was, you’d be able to catch the reason for the strange event on the news later that evening. You’d watched them destroy city hall enough times from the comfort of your living room to be sure that you wanted out of this building as soon as possible. 

But, given that this was your first call-the-Heroics-level emergency, it seems that your idea of immediacy was a bit different from theirs. In the time that it had taken you to grab your jacket, shove your laptop in your purse, and sling the bag over your shoulder, you had already been tackled to the ground by some idiot in a tactical vest. 

You don’t remember much about the explosion. 

You’d later learn that Vil-Tech Labs dealt in more than just technological innovation. The research they’d been conducting while locked away in the uppermost floors of the building, all of that gibberish involving the off-site particle accelerator you’d read about, was both sinister and invaluable. Rather than letting the Heroics get their hands on their files to uncover their plans and stop them from being set in motion, they’d decided to set off an explosion in their own goddamn building. And thanks to that ‘idiot in a tactical vest’, you were one of the only survivors. 

But in the meantime, while you were lying on your back in the middle of the lobby feeling like you’d been hit by a train, you were clueless about the nefarious action of the company you’d spent the last month working for. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the pain in your head from where you’d smacked it against the tile flooring, and the weight of the fully grown man on top of you that was currently restricting your breathing. 

You must have hit your head even harder than you thought, because there was no way in hell the man who’d been starring in all of your daydreams for months was here, now, on top of you, with katanas strapped to his back. You refused to accept that as a reality. Would he even remember you? Why would he? Apparently, the man you’d developed a  stupid little crush on was a superhero. He probably helped people all of the time and you were just another-

“What the fuck?” You finally hissed, gasping for air. The air was smokey and it stung your eyes and nose when you inhaled. 

His breathing hitched slightly when you looked up at him, the look of fear clear on your face. “You okay?” He asked, still hovering above you as he pushed himself up on his elbows, careful to avoid the shattered glass that now seemed to cover every flat surface in sight. 

“I’m… reasonably certain I’m not dead,” You replied, an edge of panic in your voice, which was a bit shakier than you would have liked. “What’s happening? I don’t- I don’t understand- Where is Stan-” You coughed, your lungs burning. 

You idly wondered how long you had before the building started to collapse, its structural integrity surely compromised by the explosion. Of all the ways you could die, being buried alive was up there with the ones you dreaded the most. Your growing panic must have been obvious. 

“Hey, calm down,” He reassured you. “I’m going to get you out of here. You’re going to be just fine.” 

The room was still spinning when you felt yourself being scooped up into his arms, the edges of your vision growing more and more fuzzy with each breath you took. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this, Clark” You murmured. You swear you feel, rather than hear, a laugh rumble in his chest just before the world goes dark. Maybe he did remember you after all. 

***

It’s only a little more than a week later, long after you’ve woken up in the hospital and been discharged, that you find yourself sitting in the coffee shop down the street. It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re staring blankly into your vanilla latte. 

You aren’t sure why you’re up so early. The doctors had ordered you to take it easy, and it’s not like you had a job to go to anymore. You could have slept in, made your own coffee at home, and stayed curled up on your couch watching Netflix and hiding from the rest of the world like you had been for the past week. You felt horrible that you’d been associated with a place like Vil-Tech. You should have known that something was off about the place, but you’d never realized it, never bothered to look into anything when things seemed off. You felt so stupid for it now. Were you just as bad as the rest of them? Sure, all you’d done was answer phones for them, but…

Stan, your only friend at Vil-Tech, the kind man who had shared half of his sandwich at lunch with you more times than you could count and always had a smile for you when he greeted you in the mornings, had never made it out of the building. You supposed that you should consider yourself lucky that the Heroics had saved you, but the loss of your friend and the knowledge that Vil-Tech was certainly not what you thought it was, had shaken you. 

You’d felt different when you woke up this morning. Like, maybe, leaving your apartment and getting some fresh air wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Your favorite barista had smiled sympathetically when you walked through the doors. You must have looked as bad as you felt. Considering you hadn’t showered since you’d gotten home from the hospital, you were sure that you were quite a sight. 

“Good morning!” She greeted, mustering up her cheeriest demeanor for you. “The usual, right?”

You nodded, not quite making eye contact as you handed her your card to pay. She quickly waved you off. 

“It’s on the house today, hon. And I insist that you take this chocolate chip muffin. I’ll make you feel better.” 

Your heart ached at her kindness, the act almost forcing tears in your eyes once again. That was the thing that you realized over the past few days. The Heroics were great, but there were plenty of everyday heroes out there as well. Sometimes it was Ashely the Barista, who scribbles a smiley face and a compliment on your cup on the mornings that seem particularly rough. Sometimes it was Stan the Security Guard, who offers to teach you sudoku on your lunch breaks. And sometimes it was a stranger you passed on the street, who catches you when you fall. 

You sat down at a table in the corner of the coffee shop, your vanilla latte and chocolate chip muffin sat out in front of you, untouched for the moment. You didn’t usually sit down to have your coffee, but you had nowhere to be today, and you were finding that you appreciated not being alone for a while. 

You heard the bells above the door jingle, signaling that a new customer had entered the shop. You looked up to see a man with dark hair and a familiar leather jacket walking towards the barista to place his order. You listened closely as he gave his name for his order, though you’d heard it plenty of times on the news this week. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips for the first time in over a week.

Marcus Moreno, your own personal Superman. 

You hadn’t meant to stare, but it was undeniably strange to see the man who had saved you not once, but twice, doing something as mundane as making his morning coffee run. After he paid, he turned towards the groupings of tables and chairs, searching for a place to sit while he waited for his drink to be ready. When his eyes landed on you, you raised your hand in a small wave. You were nervous about how he’d react to seeing you here. You had no doubt that he recognized you this time.

You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for meeting a real-life superhero again after they had saved your life. Were you supposed to pretend not to know each other? Should you have paid for his coffee? Did you make a public declaration to name your first born child after him?

To your surprise, he simply smiled back at you with the most heart-stopping, breathtaking smile you’d ever seen in your life, and returned your wave. It was as simple as that, you thought. Marcus Moreno, the superhero with katanas at this back and a team of Heroics at his side, the closest thing to Superman you’d ever met, was impressive. But Marcus Moreno, the helpful man with a kind, beautiful smile and warm, friendly eyes, whose mere existence had never failed to cheer you up? He was magnificent. An everyday hero, indeed. 

He made this way through the crowd and over to your table, gesturing to the seat across from you as if to ask for your permission to sit down. You nodded, feeling a sense of warmth blossoming in your chest. The same way you’d felt when you saw him for the first time. The same feeling that you’d been dreaming about for months. 

Hope, you realized. 

“Hi,” He greeted. “I, uh, I never caught your name. I’m Marcus Moreno.” 

As you gave him your name, you decided that maybe you could start by just saying thank you. 

General Taglist: @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @adikaofmandalore @pascalisthepunkest

Marcus Moreno Taglist: @xjaywritesx​

[kinsurou]

Forgive me Lord, for I am sinning

Pairings: Dabi (Touya) x Reader

Word count: 5.4K

Warnings: Smut (18+), Incubus!Dabi, Swearing, Dirty talking, Alcohol, Oral sex, Unprotected sex, Hair pulling, Slight mentions of breeding, Dabi being a little shit, Slight comedy.

Part 2 of the Incubus!AU. This one's a bit different from the first part. Special thanks to @dragonhrte for beta reading this monstrosity for me, and my friends @hawks-senseis @shoutogepi @honeytama @gr0vndz3ro @wakaoujisenhime @sailor-manga for listening to my non-stop ramblings as I worked on this piece! ❤

If somebody had said that after visiting your stranded family, you would end up coming back home bonded to a demon after getting laid inside the same church that brought nightmares upon you for years. You would have laughed at them before asking them to hand over some of whatever it was they may have drank.

But now, as an all too familiar weight drapes over your body, emitting such heat, that it covers your body with a thin layer of sweat despite the intensity of the air conditioner. Followed by a pair of warm lips slowly kissing the back of your neck, as they descend all the way to your lower back. Lastly, the pair of hands squeezing their way in between the mattress and your front to play with the soft mounds in your chest. 

It all makes you think twice about everything you once believed to be nothing but myths and bedtime stories a parent would tell their child so they would behave.

An eyebrow twitched in annoyance as those hands pinched your nipples teasingly, tracing a small pair of piercings adorning the erect nubs. But you made no effort to move from your position in bed, trying to get as much sleep as possible before the start of the day.

“...What do you think you’re doing?” But your tired, sleepy voice was simply ignored, and the owner of those hands leaned down to purr softly over your ear as they started biting the lobe softly.

“Well...I firmly believe there’s no better way to start the day than with some nice morning sex.” Sharp fangs nibbled gently over your neck, right over the spot where a burgundy mark branded the sensitive skin. ”C’mon little one, I’ll be quick.” 

Taking a deep, tired breath, a hand reached out for a small spritzer on the bedside table. Without even bothering to open your eyes, you quickly proceeded to spray the creature looming above your previously sleeping self, who by the way, started hissing painfully by the moisture damping his face.

“What the fuck is that?!” This time, you actually rose half-way from bed to glare at the demon rubbing his smoking face as if his life depended on it. Teal eyes were dangerously lowered into a glare, but honestly? After spending nearly two months stuck with Dabi, he didn’t scare you one bit anymore.

The demon that took you under the eyes of God and the little shit in front of your bed are two completely different individuals by this point. Now, every single day was spent being followed around the apartment by a horny demon trying to either seduce you or feel you up in order to satiate his hunger. Of course, it always backfired on him.

“Holy water.” The spritzer was pointed at him yet again, and he flinched back slightly, glaring at the plastic bottle with nothing but disgust “When I said I was mad at you, It was serious! Why are you still here anyway? Didn’t you get your own place next door?” 

“Not really, just used my hypnosis on the old lady to get in.” He shrugged “If it makes you feel any better, I gave her back the keys some time ago. Told her I found them laying around.” He followed with a sly grin, that somehow riled you up even further “By the way, she thinks I’m your boyfriend.”

He got spritzed again, Much to his chagrin.

………

“So, ‘Touya’...” At the mention of his “name”, Touya looked up from his spot on the couch, frowning slightly after what happened that morning. Those little tantrums of the devil’s spawn usually lasted a few hours before he was back to his casual, lazy, and annoying self. “How did you become trapped in the church in the first place?” 

“Why? Want to send me back? Sorry doll, but there’s no way I’m going back.” He got up from his seat and slowly approached while you were busy having some food. Coming up from behind, his face came from one side to give an alluring kiss to your jaw. “Especially now, that I have such a nice, little vessel all for myself.”

Even though you kept ignoring his approaches, those small shivers that went through your body with his every touch, were more than enough to nourish him for a while. But it’d be a lie if he said he wasn’t expecting a full meal like the one from that night. 

“And what’s with this ‘vessel’ shit? Why me? There were plenty of girls back home, so why did you pick someone like….me of all people?” You jerked away from him, much to the demon’s disappointment, and picked up the empty dish, getting up from the chair to let it sink into the soapy water from the sink before turning to look at him with a frown.

“It’s just like I said before.” He twirled a lock of your hair between his fingers. “There’s something different about you. Besides, all of them are just like those instant meals you like, full of artificial shit. Like that cousin of yours, what’s their name again…? Meh, doesn’t matter, you know who I’m talking about, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes and huffed knowingly, fully aware of who he was talking about. The family’s golden child. The one who’s never disappointed the family and is their little star. But behind closed doors? They were probably worse than you.

“But you’re different, want to know why?” He got so close, that you could feel the heat of his body through his clothes. His face was so close as well, and it was strange looking at him without all those stitches and scars. Now that you think about it, it’s been a while since he stopped using this “Glamour”. 

“Because you’re not someone who’s afraid of speaking your mind, so what if you’re not their golden child? You’ve always stayed true to yourself.” A hand made its way inside your shirt, claws roaming seductively all over your back. You couldn’t help closing your eyes and gasp quietly as ‘Touya’s hand kept grazing your body with that burning, lust-filled touch.

But as soon as his lips grazed your own, the loud shrill of your phone caught the both of you off guard and nearly caused you to bump ‘Touya’ in the face.

Flushed face turned away from the demon, you turned all your attention to the device. The caller’s ID made you smile in excitement once you saw the name of your best friend, there was only one reason she would call you this early during the weekend.

“Hey, What’s up!” Her cheerful voice made you walk away from the sink, leaving a frowning demon behind. Touya only glared at the device as he saw you talking happily with the girl on the other side of the line. He caught the word “party”, and couldn’t help but smirk smugly once he realized just what that meant. He was really going to enjoy this.

“Alright, I’ll go get ready, see you there!” Ending the call with a squeal, you ran into your room to look for a proper outfit and do your makeup. He just followed behind silently and leaned against the open door, watching you get undressed with a hungry glint in his eye and a devilish smirk.

“Ugh...Which one should I wear?” You mumbled to yourself, looking at the two tops in the bed with a pensive look. Black or Blue top?

“The blue one looks better.” The demon’s voice surprised you for a bit before a loud shriek was heard as he got the other top thrown at his laughing face, but you had to admit he had good taste. The top he suggested had been sitting at the bottom of the closet for a long time anyway, so it was the perfect time to use it!

Grabbing a pair of black jeans, you quickly got dressed and began putting on makeup, just enough to make your eyes stand out with the lights from the club, and a beautiful shade of red that complimented your skin just perfectly. Lastly, a pair of boots that fit the outfit just perfectly. From his place, Touya gripped the fabric thrown at his face strong enough to slightly tear through it with his black claws. Pupils dilated at the sight of those boots adorning those beautiful legs of yours.

Checking the hour, you still had some time before meeting up with your friends. Snatching a small handbag nearby, you made sure everything was in place. Money? check. Keys? check….A condom, just in case? Check.

“I’ll be back later. If I find any of the neighbors at the door, I’m exorcising you myself!” You looked at Dabi with an annoyed squint, remembering the last time he got in trouble for scaring one of the nosy neighbors from the other building, claiming they had it coming for trying to peek through your window.

He said nothing as he saw you rushing out, a wicked grin appeared on his face as he thought of the surprise you might get tonight. It was going to be so much fun.

Two hours later, you were having the time of your life with the others. Taking shots, dancing to the loud music, and sharing looks with one of the hottest strangers you’ve ever met in your life while sitting at one of the barstools. Too intoxicated by the high from the party to notice the burning sensation around the skin of your neck.

“Sooooo, why haven’t you texted these past weeks?” Your friend sat down at your left, resting for a bit from dancing her heart out with this other girl that kept making eyes at her, much to her flustering. “She’s totally checking you out! Atta girl” She couldn’t stop giggling like a teenager at your remarks. 

“I’ve been busy, lots of stuff that needs to be taken care of.” Like how to get rid of the demonic hobo that keeps stealing the instant ramen. But your friend only gave you a look while downing another shot of some liquid courage. 

“The last time you said that we had to take all of the stuff you dropped at your ex’s home after you broke up with them. You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?” She gave you a knowing grin. This girl knows you better than your own family, but what were you supposed to tell her?

Yeah! I went to visit my family and ended up fucking a demon at the church, who just happened to move in with me and won’t stop trying to get laid! 

At this rate, you’d probably end up locked up if someone could hear your thoughts.

Downing another shot, she stood up from her seat and made her way back to the dancefloor and into the arms of her admirer. Thinking about the situation back home left you thinking about Dabi, and that day back at the church. He may try to get into your pants nearly every single day, and yet, he usually stopped his approaches after a while.

Despite all the stress he caused, sometimes he'd go out of his way to help out, even though most of the time he kept messing with your stuff...Maybe...he wasn’t so bad after all…

“Gah! What am I thinking?” Shaking the thoughts out of your head, the drink in front of you was quickly downed.

“Something troubling that pretty face?”  Another voice came from your right side before you had the chance to order another drink. Looking back quickly made your face get warm. The same guy that kept looking at you was standing right there. Just having him this close made something stir inside, as well as a burning sensation at your neck that was brushed off in favor of admiring this beautiful stranger.

“You can say that again, haha….” He sat down beside you, before ordering two beers and handing one over to you.

“Well, hearing a pretty one out is my specialty. Cheers for our troubled lives, am I right?” He raised the bottle before taking a big gulp of the cold, bitter liquid and you followed after him, the night passed by with some small talk and laughter as your face began getting warmer because of the alcohol.

And by the time the clock struck past 1 am, you were already close to this stranger at the far corner of the club.

….Or at least you tried to.

Another two hours passed by, and the sound of the door being slammed loudly caught Touya’s attention as he read one of your favorite books at the same spot from that afternoon.

“You….!” A furious growl came out of your throat. He didn’t bother looking up, already feeling the heated glare at the back of his head before hearing your marching to the bedroom, and he just grinned in realization once he caught a whiff of your scent. 

Dropping the book carelessly behind him, Touya walked nonchalantly inside the bedroom, spotting you taking off all the make-up, half-ruined by your sweat.

“Something wrong, little one?” You turned to glare at him furiously, before throwing the cotton pat at him, which was quickly dodged. But he couldn’t dodge when you pulled him by the collar and began shaking him in anger.

“What did you do to me?!” He felt the frustration coming out of your body, and he also saw it on those fiery eyes of yours “I was this close, THIS CLOSE to getting laid with one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met in my life!” Your faces nearly touched each other “But right as we were about to do it, not only does this fucking mark starts burning like crazy! I couldn’t feel anything as he touched me!” 

You smacked his chest rapidly, trying to let out all that pent-up anger inside, if only this bastard could actually react to your punches, it would actually be satisfying to hit him, but he wouldn’t even flinch.

Before a hand could land on his face, he quickly caught it mid-air, pulling you closer by the waist with something dark in his eyes. Bright, glowing eyes looked down at you. 

“That’s just a side-effect of being a vessel. You can actually be pleased however you want, but there’s a catch.” The way he grinned gave away his answer even before he continued to speak. “As long as we’re bonded to each other, only a master can actually please their vessel.”

You pulled away from him, holding the wrist he held closer to your chest. Like he could tear off the limb in an instant if you weren’t careful enough.

“Besides, think about it. Why would you want to be pleased by a mere mortal, when you know just what exactly your master can offer? Or have you forgotten that night? When you could only scream how much you adored my cock?” 

As much as you wanted to pour the contents of the spritzer on him...he had a point. Why in the world did you want someone else when someone that made you feel such wonderful things, was living under the same roof as yours?

It’s a trap.

Looking down at the floor, you bit harshly at your lip and headed towards the bathroom. After everything that happened tonight, you really needed to freshen up.

Getting undressed and stepping under the running water in the bathtub was easy. Allowing the cold stream to run down your body, trying desperately to ease the aching heat between your legs was the hard part. With each passing second, the increasing heat became insufferable, but no matter how chilled the water felt, the aching wouldn’t go down one bit.

Lust began clouding your thoughts the more time you spent under the cold bath, it was starting to become downright painful and as much as you tried pleasing yourself, it just wasn’t enough.

Walking out of the shower with a soft towel carefully wrapped around your body, you tried to distract yourself blow-drying the damp locks of hair. Trying to ignore the clenching between your thighs. Despite having just taken a shower, there was already slick running down your legs. 

Whimpering, you walked out of the bathroom. Colliding with Touya’s hard chest as he stood in the way between the bathroom and the hallway. His whole body trembled as he let out a low, dangerous growl as soon as he caught a whiff of your scent. It would be a lie if you said that sound didn’t scare you…and at the same time, excited you.

Slowly tilting your head up to look at him, you were met with the same dark eyes from that time at the church. And before you realized what was happening, he had already pushed you against the wall, caging you in the spot with his arms. 

“T-Touya…?” 

But he just ignored you and crashed his lips upon yours with a bruising force. Sending an overwhelming shock from head to toe that nearly made your body give up and fall down on the floor. It was fierce, strong, passionate. You couldn’t even begin to fully describe it, but it was perfect.

“I could smell you from the other side of town.” He broke the kiss, allowing you to catch your breath before he kissed you again as eagerly as before. This time you were ready, and gladly began kissing him back with the same strength. Moaning into the kiss and holding onto him for dear life as his middle finger began prodding its way inside you. He swallowed your every noise happily, enjoying the way your body began trembling as his hand gave you a slight taste of sweet relief, that was so desperately needed.

Then he broke the kiss one more time, teal eyes engulfed in black as he admired your warm face and half-lidded eyes. “That sweet scent of your body, crying out to be pleased, begging to be satisfied until you become nothing but a limp mess underneath your master.”

He looked at your eyes closing with nothing but bliss, begging for more of his unholy touch. Nothing mattered to you anymore, all you wanted was for Touya to defile your whole being like he did the very first time.

“Ahhh….Please…” Lust glazed eyes fluttered open to look at him, and he almost wanted to take you right there, right now “Take my body however you want, Master…”

In an instant. He pulled his hand away from your core, yanking the towel away in the process. With little to no effort, Touya lifted your body with both hands and wrapped your legs around his waist, before taking your begging self to the bedroom. And this time, nothing would stop him from having you, and if he had to obliterate someone to ashes, in order to get what he wanted, he would.

He set you down in front of the bed and sat down on the edge, spreading his calves wide open, just enough for you to fit in at the same time that he leaned back on his lean arms. Face leaning against his knuckles as he looked at your trembling self.

“What are you waiting for, little one? Your master is waiting.”

Nothing but pure, concentrated arousal fueled your every thought. One knee bent down on the floor, the other one followed soon after. Finally, you sat in front of the demon, resting both hands over your knees, and waited for his next commands while staring at a growing bulge, easily noticeable under the layers of black denim. 

“Time to worship your master’s cock, little one.” 

Shaky hands made contact with the zipper of his jeans, slowly tugging it down. A small purr was heard from above you, and the room slowly began to get warmer as the demon’s pants slowly became looser around his waist.

“Look what you do to me. I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do now.” He growled in contempt once his jeans were undone and his underwear was pulled down. That all too unique cock sprung out before your half-closed eyes, already dripping with precum. Having it this close to your eyes was way different from last time. 

You could see every detail of the ridges at his sides, and this time, there was something else you definitely did not see, or feel the last time. He smirked widely, showing off those longs fangs of his when he saw you look up at him with curious eyes.

“This is new...When did you get a Jacob’s ladder?” Your hand grasped around the erect member, taking as much of it as it could. Thumb tracing a small vertical line at the underside of it, right in between the row of piercings decorating his shaft, all the way from the base until it stopped right below the tip. The slightest touch was almost enough to send the demon into a frenzy.

“Shortly after leaving the church. But what can I say? I wanted to surprise you.” He didn’t move one bit as he stared at you with those bright eyes. His hands cupped the side of your face, nails scratching gently at your cheek, and you couldn’t help leaning towards his warm touch. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself. Come on little one, get those pretty lips of yours to work.”

Too lost in the haze to even bother giving the demon a snarky remark, you happily obeyed his orders. 

Slowly, your hand started touching his length with cautious, but firm strokes. The more you kept touching him, the heavier his breathing became. 

“Your hand feels so good.” As much as you wanted to keep on teasing him, the trembling between your legs just kept getting stronger. Desire kept growing inside you like vines, snaring themselves painfully against your very soul.

Leaning forward, your lips gave the tip of his cock a tender, delicate kiss, and not only the feeling of those soft lips against him, but the dazed look in your eyes made Touya grip the blanket with force, growing nails digging into the material underneath, much to your chagrin. But right now, that didn’t really bother you. The only thing that mattered, was worshipping the throbbing cock in the palm of your hand.

Might as well give the demon what he wanted…

“Mmmm...Is my master enjoying this?” You kept moving your hand while peppering his tip with more kisses. Starting at the head before leaving a trail all the way down to the base. Not once did you break eye contact with him, and he couldn’t really complain about the view. 

“Stop with the teasing already,” His hand pulled harder on your hair, leaning down until both of your faces were so close to each other, that you could practically feel his jagged breathing fanning against your warm face, and those hypnotizing blue orbs nearly digging a hole in your soul. “Now’s when the real worship begins. You know what to do, little one.”

You couldn’t hold back a gasp as he pulled harder on your soft locks, and he took advantage of that little noise, to push that pretty mouth down on his cock, hissing in delight at the warmth of your mouth.

“Shit…! your mouth feels so fucking good, it’s just as nice as your pussy!” Both of your hands came forward to rest on top of his thighs while moaning around the pulsing length. Small vibrations made him tilt his head back with closed eyes and a satisfied groan.

He tasted so good, that the pent-up frustration accumulated over the past week because of him, dissipated in an instant, and all you cared about was showing him...just how much you loved, your master’s cock.

Not waiting for a command, you began bobbing your head immediately, taking as much of him as possible, while continuing to stroke whatever bit couldn’t fit inside your mouth. Saliva and pre-cum mixed together into a lewd mixture, slowly dripping down your chin with each bob of your head. 

The grip in your hair became firmer the more your tongue kept tracing circles on his tip. Touya could hear your little, satisfied hums the more you attempted to take him deeper with each thrust of your head against his hips. Thighs shaking desperately once the taste of his precum reached every corner of your tongue.

“As much as I love the way you take my cock with that filthy mouth,” With a single maneuver, he pulled your face away from him despite the little whines you gave, wishing to taste him just a bit more. “I can’t wait to leave bruises all over that pretty skin.”

Unwilling to wait any longer, Touya pulled you off the ground, and with a grin, he threw you face down on the bed. The mattress dipped down on your side by the weight of the demon climbing over your withering body. 

“Get on your knees, right now.” The authority in his words was almost enough for you to melt on the spot. Obediently, you positioned yourself just as the demon said, and felt him grab on your hips with a force that would certainly leave a path of dark bruises. 

When he began rubbing himself against your soaked folds, the friction from those firm ridges sent an exquisite sensation through your whole body, it made him laugh darkly once he heard those small, silent gasps as you waited eagerly to be filled. 

A sharp pain shot through your backside when his hands smacked the skin of your ass, and although it was painful, it felt so good at the same time.

“What’s the matter, little one?” Another smack was given, making you yelp from excitement “You like this don’t you? What a filthy slut!” 

When a third smack was given, tears ran down your face desperately. All you wanted was for this demon to ravish you at once. Not a pinch of pride or shame remained inside. You wanted him, and badly.

“Ahh...Please, master…” A hand snaked its way underneath, spreading those slick folds wide open as an offering to the demon. “Please, fuck me already. I can’t take it anymore!” 

“Good!” One of his hands pushed lightly on the head of his cock, guiding it towards your warm, little hole and with a swift thrust, Touya buried himself all the way in. “Cause I’m gonna fuck you senseless, make you feel so damn good, that the thought of being with someone else will never cross your mind ever again, little one.”

Oh god, it was even better than last time. You could feel every single ridge, and those piercings brushing snuggly against your walls as he began with a fast pace immediately. His every thrust turned you into a mess underneath him. 

Why did you even want someone else in the first place when you had this? If you had to settle for one dick to satisfy you for life, then maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your face buried against the bed with a lost smile and eyes rolling into the back of your head. In addition, your hands kept gripping the sheets with a death grip as Touya began hitting a spot over and over again that knocked your breath away. Watching you squirming underneath him was truly a sight to behold, nothing could come close to how beautiful you looked in the demon’s eyes.

“I can’t get enough of this delicious pussy, it feels amazing having you taking my cock like this…!” He held your body closer to his, hands kneading your chest in synch with his every push. 

Your moans became louder with every single hump of his pelvis ramming against your ass, it brought you closer and closer over the edge. Until that all too familiar knot in your stomach. 

“Master!...I’m coming! I’m coming!” Your whole body began trembling from the upcoming high, inner walls clasping around the throbbing girth humping your insides so wickedly good. 

But then, Touya stopped moving so abruptly that it almost made you cry out in frustration. Was this his revenge for the spritzer?

But that’s wasn’t it. Instead, he flipped you over and pulled those beautiful legs to rest against his shoulders. Nibbling softly on the soft flesh of your inner thighs made goosebumps appear all over your body, and with a grin, he once again slammed his cock inside that warm, sloppy hole he adored. Picking up his brutal pace from before caused the headboard to slam loudly against the wall with each jab of his hips against yours.

“I want to see that look on your face again. That look in your eyes as I fill this delicious pussy with my cum!” You couldn’t stop gasping for air the more he kept shoving his length into the depths of your warmth, savoring the feeling with eyes closed tightly in nothing but pure enjoyment.

"Take it you little lamb! Take all of your master's seed until you become big and swollen with my offspring!"

He gave another rough thrust, hitting that same spot from before with an intensity that made you cling onto him for dear life, wrapping your arms around his neck. The heat from his body was searing hot, a little more and it could burn you alive at any moment. When you opened your eyes again, the sight you witnessed was hypnotizing.

His body was engulfed in blue flames, and despite being so close to him, that fire around him didn’t burn your skin in the slightest, but instead, it began burning away at his skin, and you realized it was actually destroying his disguise. When he lifted his head from your neck, you saw the same scarred face from that night at the church.

But his unnatural appearance didn’t bother you anymore, too lost in the high as Touya...No...As Dabi let out a deep snarl and with a powerful thrust, that tight knot in your stomach burst. Making you scream as an orgasm overtook your senses.

The look in your face sent Dabi into a frenzy, the sound of his length sloshing into your sloppy core resonated through the bedroom, and with a couple more thrusts, he slammed himself deep inside, clinging onto you as he filled your womb with his scalding seed. 

You both stayed in place, breathing heavily while clinging to each other. Slowly, he pulled out and crawled back, the motion caused your legs to plop on the mattress and he watched in satisfaction as his seed kept leaking out of your drained body, before getting up from the bed and walking out of the room.

For a good ten minutes, you didn’t bother moving, wincing slightly at the sticky sensation all over your whole body, and when every single spasm kept making your body leak with Dabi’s cum, you felt even stickier. The bedsheet laid there completely torn to shreds, soaked and slightly charred. 

“Come here.” Dabi walked back inside the room without his human disguise. Carefully he picked you up bridal style and took you back to the bathroom, where the bathtub was nicely filled. He helped you get in and lean back against the edge as the steaming hot water helped your worn-out body to relax. “There we go.”

“Why are you doing all this? I thought demons didn’t care about us mortals.” From the corner of your eyes, you spotted him picking a small towel from the shelves before he approached the tub again, he soaked it slightly in the tub, before using it to wipe your face.

“Well, I need to take good care of my vessel.” This time, he used the towel on your hair, the warmth felt nice on your sensitive scalp after having your hair pulled for a good time. “And honestly? I like this. You have guts standing up to a demon. Can’t say I don’t like the thrill though. So, as long as we’re bonded, just sit back and enjoy your daily life while I make sure to give you whatever you need.”

You hated to admit it, but it was a tempting offer. Either way, you’re definitely going to hell anyway....Maybe this deal wasn't so bad after all.

@hawks-senseis @honeytama @savagetrickster @unbreakableeiji @wakaoujisenhime @fanfic-me-up @natsuosfairy @sailor-manga @shoutogepi @gr0vndz3ro @divinewhimsy

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

The One with the Engagement Picture

Ayy, using this to try new ones. Another for @thatesqcrush​’s FRIENDS challenge.

Peter Stone hadn’t always been as much of a partier as he’d become, and he would certainly reject the term womanizer. Anyone he dated or slept with knew that he just wasn’t ready to settle down anymore. Maybe it was because he’d tried to do that once and ruined it. When he tore his ulnar collateral ligament, he’d accepted he wouldn’t be pitching anymore, and slowly an ocean seemed to settle between himself and his teammates. He was bitter, and they were busy. As the partying stopped for him to heal and return to school, there was one woman he found himself content to spend nights with on the couch with. It was the first time since he’d been an adult that Peter was in a serious, monogamous relationship, and he thought it suited him.

Dahlia had moved to Chicago for graduate school, and she was thoroughly unimpressed with his baseball background. Did she think it was cool? Sure. Was she understanding they’d be going to games? Yes. But, he had to teach her how the game worked and let her know which of his friends even played when she met them. She was more interested in dragging him antique shopping or to old bookshops where he’d have to keep her from falling off of a ladder. While she learned his world, Peter got far more comfortable than he ever expected to with pin curls, vintage compacts, and inspecting dresses for sweat stains or cigarette burns. It made her happy to invest time in it, so if she’d wear his old jersey tucked into her high waisted jeans and go to a game with him, he’d take pictures of his pin up at the rockabilly festival they drove out to.

When he proposed, he was nauseatingly proud to find a mid century ring at the vintage jewelry store she loved. The owner knew him from each time he had followed her through, shopping bags in hand as she purused. That meant he had help from a woman who knew Dahlia’s ring size and which cut she’d like the most; he picked correctly anyway, she’d said. He’d been careful to plan an outing to the park, packing a picnic and red and white checked blanket. He had a friend hiding to capture pictures, and it felt like the timing was perfect. Soon enough, he had a picture of her, hand over her mouth as he asked her to marry him sitting on his desk at home, and one with her showing off the ring as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, his arms slung around her waist, sitting on his office desk.

Things were easier then, when he was working and she was in school. Their schedules still aligned, so they could see each other in the evenings.  Then, she finished her MFA and taught night classes in order to make ends meet while she worked on her next novel. They’d met not long before the first was published, and he’d read a preview copy the first weekend he knew her and dug up poetry she’d published in volumes stored at the university. His brain didn’t work like that and he liked that about her. He was more about practicality and comfort. She was creative and artistic, comfort be damned.

The change in schedules made things hard. Peter wasn’t good when things got hard. The transition to not seeing each other much during the week, even though they lived together, quickly coupled with wedding planning stress to create arguments they hadn’t had before. Instead of quiet togetherness, they’d bicker. He got home late, so they didn’t see each other before she left to teach. She had to pick something up after work, so he was asleep when she got home. Dahlia wanted to plan the wedding, and Peter was getting nervous because he hadn’t watched many marriages stay happy. He pushed off decisions, avoided picking a venue. After a while, she got an offer to teach creative writing in New York. 

“I could have normal hours, Peter. We could see each other. You know you’d get a job in New York.”

“I’m not going back there, Dahl.”

“It’s a big city. You wouldn’t even have to see him. We wouldn’t even have to tell Ben, would we?”

“No.”

“So we just keep not planning a wedding and not seeing each other? Do you even want to marry me?”

“You know I do.”

“No I don’t!” 

“Then maybe you should take the fucking job without me.”

The minute he said it, he regretted it. The way Dahlia’s face fell and tears came made him feel stupid. She’d spent her weekends helping him with physical therapy. She’d taken the shitty adjuncting job to stay in Chicago until he was a little more established. She was patient about maneuvering the strained dynamic between Ben and Peter Stone. Hell, she wasn’t even asking him to go back to New York forever. It was a year and then the university would evaluate if they’d offer her a permanent position. They could be back in Chicago after a year. And now she was crying. He hadn’t made her do that before, not because she was sad.

“Fine,” she managed, jaw shifting as she tried to get the tears to stop. “I’ll go then. I can’t keep doing this. You won’t plan the wedding. We fight all the time. And now you want me to go? Here’s your fucking ring.”

If Peter had been used to having a girlfriend or wanting her to stay, Peter might have developed the skills required to do more than stare as Dahlia shoved her clothes into a suitcase and clutch the ring in his outstretched hand. He might have thought to fly to the city when he realized she’d actually gone ahead and moved and show up at her apartment unemployed and ready to go to the courthouse to prove he needed her there. 

Instead, he steeled his jaw over the next few weeks. His arm had healed the first year of law school, so he simply returned to his circle of friends that went out and dated whoever and covered for each other. He always ignored the ones in a vintage dress or with dark curled hair. Those were the ones who could hurt him. Who let him pretend afterwards that it was Dahlia beside him, and they were married and happy. 

When he moved out the apartment they’d shared-it was too much there now- he picked a painfully modern place and filled it with sleek modern furniture, The antiques she hadn’t taken were sold, and he finally felt that maybe he’d scrubbed his life of Dahlia, save the engagement pictures he kept in the top drawer of his desk. She had probably responded to the break up like an actual adult and moved on. Had a husband and career. Maybe even a baby. He hated the thought, so when he thought it, he’d pour another drink. And it was fine, because he’d just distanced himself from everything that could make him think of her. And that was fine, really it was. Peter had been a playboy before. He was a partier. He was an ex-baseball player. And he was fine.

Then his father died. 

Peter felt the solitude then. There hadn’t been anything new and hard to process since Dahlia left. He wandered New York and wondered if she was still there somewhere or if she’d gotten another teaching job somewhere. When McCoy convinced him to take the ADA position after Baba’s trial, he couldn’t say no, and one of the engagement photos found a new home in the top drawer of his new desk. SVU was harder, and it found its way out more. He’d hold it in his free hand, sipping a drink as he tried to channel the advice she’d have given him. 

“Ben liked her,” Jack said softly one day. “He had a copy of that picture until the engagement ended.”

“I was an idiot.”

“Aren’t we all at some point? Learn from it.”

Peter left it out after that. It faced him from the corner, and he remembered feeling grounded. That was what he really missed. Dahlia had given him a place to land. His dad had always felt unstable, and he wasn’t close with his mom. He wasn’t even always at home, staying with his aunt periodically.  And then he’d made a happy stable home with Dahlia and ruined it. 

When Pamela died, he stopped partying for fun and started using it to numb himself, but one night, he met a woman with dark brown pin curls and fair skin. She’d left when Dahlia’s name fell from his lips. That’s when he knew he had to reach out. He had to know if there was a family or a set of kids or a job in another city. He needed closure.

“Hello?” She sounded confused when she answered, and he suddenly remembered it was nearly midnight. He also remembered she never checked caller ID. Oh God, or she’d deleted his number.

“Dahlia?” Papers stopped shuffling and he could hear her sharp intake of breath. He could almost picture her, perched in an armchair, probably a yellow velvet one, with wide eyes and hair pinned up for the night and tied in a silk scarf as she graded or proofed her own manuscript. Maybe it was a friend’s manuscript.

Oh God, what if it was a husband’s manuscript. Another writer. She’d like that.

The cool metal of the picture he kept at home was pressed into the skin of his palm before he whispered, “Dahl, it’s Peter.”

“I know,” she said softly. “You don’t sound okay.”

“I’m not.”

“What happened?”

“Pamela.”

“What happened to Pamela? I can be on a plane to Chicago if you need someone. Or if you need help in the city, I can arrange things. Check on her.”

“How do you know I don’t have someone?” 

“Would you be calling if you did?”

“I’m in New York. Where did you end up?”

“They offered me a permanent position. How long have you been in the city?” He could tell she was trying to mask hurt that he hadn’t called before now. But what was he supposed to say? Dad’s dead so I live here now.

“Since January. Dad died. I prosecuted an ADA. Then I took his job.”

“Ben’s gone?”

“So is Pam.”

“Pam’s gone?” He let out a shaky breath, chest tight. “Send me your address.”

“You don’t have to--”

“Address or I start calling your baseball buddies.”

“I’ll text it.”

“I’m not hanging up until I’m there.”

“Is it creepy I keep the engagement photo on my desk?”

“We’re not touching that right now Peter. You’re drunk and not okay.”

She was true to her word, not hanging up the phone until she arrived at his apartment. When he opened the door, he saw her just as he’d imagined her. Her hair was pinned in the silk scarf and a silk robe was tied over her pajamas. She had thrown it on over the same babydoll top and short sets she’d always been hunting down patterns for so she could make them herself and she’d slid on flats. 

The sight of her made him feel tethered again, though he had had enough more to drink between the initial call and her arrival that he had gone from tipsy to unsteady. He went to hug her, and Dahlia carefully kicked the door close, locked it, and maneuvered him to his big leather couch that she looked terribly out of place on. 

“Let it out, Peter,” she whispered, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck like she might float away or vanish. The cry wasn’t like anything he’d let her see before. He’d been careful and controlled anytime something hurt, glossing over details that could make it worse to give her a pig picture. But now, he cried like he was alone, heaving sobs with snot and tears and drool as he clutched her. 

She settled into the couch enough he was basically curled in her lap. That’s how he woke the next morning too, curled against her torso with his head on her shoulder. She’d fallen asleep with her cheek pressed against the top of his head, and he was both embarrassed and relieved she was still there. Carefully he untangled himself from her, wanting to clean up before he had to face her. Face the fact it was his own fault he’d had to deal with it all alone.  

He came out to find her having obviously used the guest bathroom to rinse her face, though she was clad in his boxers and henley now. She was too averse to pants for his sweats. And like the angel she was, Dahlia was cooking. He was, however, mortified to see what she was holding as whatever she’d put in the oven cooked was the engagement photo he’d been clinging to when he called. But he could also see she seemed to be looking at it fondly. 

“Your interior design is terrible,” she teased gently, setting the frame aside. “I left you so much of the good stuff.”

“I couldn’t bring it from Chicago.”

“Peter, you forget I brought it from Chicago.”

“When I looked at furniture we found together, it made me miss you, so I got rid of it.”

“I kept mine because it made me remember you.”

“I’m the one that was an absolute moron.”

“It was easier then, huh?” she said softly, picking the picture up again. Their smiles were wider. There were fewer lines on their faces. Ben and Pam were in New York alive, and Dahlia and Peter had forever in front of them. Peter didn’t need to talk to her about something he didn’t want to remember.

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry I let you go.”

“I’m sorry I let you. I shouldn’t have left the first time we fought. I knew how you were.”

“You were right to. I went for what I knew would hurt.”

“We can address all of that later. For right now, do you want to start talking or eat and then talk?”

“It’s my fault Pam’s dead.”

“You need to elaborate on that one, Peter. Because I’m sure there is more happening than you’re saying.”

“I didn’t drop a case. A victim tortured her attacker. We didn’t know for sure at first. A cartel was involved and they threatened to hurt Pam if I didn’t drop the case. We had guards, but they massacred Pam’s facility and took her. Diaz killed her in the gunfire. Dahl, she recognized me. She called for me, and he killed her. It’s been months, and I just, I feel so lost.”

“Peter,” she whispered, pulling him close. 

He stiffened at first. He’d expected disgust, not sympathy. This was his fault. That’s what he’d been telling himself for weeks, distracting himself with booze and bars and women like he had done when he wanted to pretend his family was fine, that Pam wasn’t sick, that he was close with his dad. This time though, the hurt was bigger.  

He was crying into her shoulder again, and he suddenly wished he’d been smart enough to call the minute he’d arrived. That she’d been there at dad’s funeral and for the trial of Rafael Barba. Maybe then he wouldn’t have even taken the job. He’d have recognized something bad was brewing. Instead he’d gotten his sister killed and was clinging to Dahlia in the early morning light of his kitchen. 

“It happened in May.”

“Why didn’t you call sooner?”

“I didn’t mean to call now.”

“How have you been coping?” He was quiet, shifting awkwardly. “Baseball methods?”

“Yeah.” He was ashamed to tell her, and she squeezed him gently. 

“I went with baseball methods after we split. You’re a single man. I don’t like the thought and it’s not healthy, but it’s better than other things you could’ve done.” They didn’t speak much as they ate. Neither one knew what to say to the other any more, but she didn’t want to leave him alone and he shouldn’t be left alone. When he did speak again, his voice was gentler than it had been in a while.

“Can we go antiquing?” 

“You want to go?”

“I want to carry your bags and think about sweat stains.”

“How does that help you?”

“Is it manipulative if I say that’s the last time I was really happy? Because if you say no I won’t be mad. It’s just true.”

“It could be. But I believe you. I think it’s the last time I was really happy too.”

“Really?” 

“Depends? Did I pretend to understand baseball between our last antiquing trip and moving?”

“No. You moved in the off season.”

“Then really. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been fine. I love work. I love writing. I love the city. But I like everything more with you. Even if you’re a jock.”

“I thought I was happy before you. But I wasn’t.”

“You have to take me home first so I can get ready.”

“Deal.” And that’s what found him in her living room while she got dressed. He wasn’t stupid; Dahlia was the same as she’d always been, so he was waiting patiently as she brushed out her set curls and did her make up. She came back out in a pretty shirtdress, one he felt sure he’d found for her a long time ago, and keds, and Peter knew he’d do anything to get this back. The feeling of groundedness, that maybe they could be a team again, awe she was even agreeing to comfort him on any level. 

She led him through new vintage shops now. They were in a whole new state after all. He decided that maybe baseball methods didn’t work, and he talked to Dahlia. This time he really talked though. He’d brushed over stories about his father and Pam. He didn’t like the bad ones or the feelings they could bring up. Besides, Ben Stone was a saint, didn’t you know? Peter hadn’t ever been talk about his father, so he kept that habit up with Dahlia the first time. He also told her the truth. He’d panicked over marrying her because she was his first real girlfriend and the prospect of settling down and having her grow to hate him like his mother had his father scared him. That one was a revelation to her. 

He’d basically moved in with her a month after their outing to go antiquing. She preferred their old furniture and her vintage collection. Besides, Peter, I have a built in vanity here! The engagement photo in the park was replaced on his desk a year later. It showed them now in a different park in a different city with different lives to the ones so long ago. They also had different methods of communication, meaning they’d weathered fights as they adjusted to things again. The same ring was on display, however, and the same smile was plastered on Peter’s face as Dahlia pressed a kiss to his cheek.

[lizzy-williams]

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 ▼

((originally posted on my Wattpad, cinnamon_opal))

★ Warnings: Some angst, SMUT!!!

★Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmAZWKdCvmII 

(Wanna Be Adored by The Stone Roses)

masterlist

𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑬 𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑬𝑬𝑰𝑵𝑮  you like this. Tears streaming, hair messed up from how many times you've run your hands through it, and your body quivering in dread. You were so lost. All you could think about is what you did wrong. You two stood in the kitchen for an hour now.

"What did I do, Timothée?" You sobbed, trying to wipe away tears, new ones replacing the old, "Why?"

"I'm sorry, I just...," he hesitated, "You just can't keep up with my life. I'm always away and you said it yourself, you want to see me more but you can't,"

"So that's what this is about? Tim, you've been in so many legendary movies to supply your life of luxury for at least another 30 years!" You were now angry, your emotions blinding you, "You're breaking up with your fiancé for a career that's plummeting??"

"Excuse me, plummetting? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Timothée paused and walked towards you and got so close, it frightened you as you bit the inside of your cheek, wishing you could turn back time.

"Everyone knows that your career is dropping. Your golden days are over, Tim. But you can't let go of that! Everybody knows it." You were now fighting back, raising your voice, "Maybe if you actually went on social media a little more, you could find article upon article talking about how everything is over. The roles you're booking are shit." You poked your finger at him angrily, an offended expression crossing Timothée's face.

"What the fuck do you know? I am one of the biggest names in Hollywood right now. This is what I've always wanted. You want me to throw away my dreams because you want to pump out a few babies and get married? I'm not meant for the white picket fence life that you dream of having!" his voice raised as well, his bare feet pacing across the wooden floor of the kitchen area.

You were now livid. You stomped towards the bedroom, wiping away the tears, no longer feeling like crying.

"Where are you going?" timothée asked annoyed.

"Stay there." You hissed in response, opening the door to your shared room and going right over to your bedside table and opened the top drawer and grabbed a magazine. A Hollywood gossip magazine. You had been meaning to bring this up for a few days.

You walked quickly back into the kitchen, slamming the magazine on the counter across from the one he was leaning against.

"Okay then, Mr. Hotshot, what the fuck is that?" You asked pointing to the cover of the magazine. It showed an image of Timothée with his arm around another girl - a pornstar - as they exited a limousine, the city behind them looking to be Los Angeles.

"Is that what you were doing on your 'work trip'?" You air-quoted, poison seeping from your mouth.

"Babe, you look way too much into this kinda garbage, you really believe this shit?" He asked, taking the magazine and slamming it back down.

"Then who the fuck is she, Timothée??!!" You were boiling over now, Tim seemingly doing the same thing. "WHO?" you pushed him back. You continued to push him until his back hit the counter edge.

"WE FUCKED, OKAY?" He yelled at you, pushing you gently back, "IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR?"

Your world stopped. Everything felt unreal as you felt as if a million pounds was just added to your chest, feeling as if you couldn't breathe. The tears began to spill from your eyes again as your eyes met his. His were also brimming with tears. You two stood in silence, staring at each other, not even knowing what the other would say next.

"Did you really?" You finally broke the silence, your eye contact breaking as you looked at the floor.

There was a long pause, "Yes." He finally said.

You sink down on your knees, not even knowing what to say.

"It didn't mean anything, I swear-"

"Would you have ever told me?" You interrupted him, "Or would you have taken it to your grave?"

He stayed silent.

"Then why Timothée?" You were so heartbroken that your mind was going fuzzy, "Then why did you fuck a PORNSTAR??"

You couldn't help it, but you felt a wave of self-consciousness. He made love to her over you.

"Because you weren't there." He replied, guilt seeping from his words.

"Wow." Was all you could say. You stood up, brushing yourself off.

You then went back into the bedroom, grabbed a duffle bag from the closet, packing him some clothes, phone charger, toothbrush, etc. Storming back into the kitchen, you slammed down the duffle bag onto the ground.

"I want you out." Your eyes tearing up and your voice cracking, "Have fun with your porno slut, you asshole." You stood over the bag, Timothée staring at you in disbelief.

"Is this what you really want?"

"Just get the fuck out of my apartment. I'll get you the rest of your shit later. I just want you out." You were full-on sobbing at this point.

He stared at you blankly.

"Did I fucking stutter?" You cried, picking up the back and shoving to him, taking his arm, and dragging him to the door, "Get the fuck out!!" You screamed, shoving him out into the apartment complex's hallway and slamming the door behind you, your back against the door.

You sobbed harder, sinking down, your heart shattered, feeling so guilty for everything although you did nothing wrong. What the hell were you going to do now?

It was several weeks since you kicked Tim out. The tabloids were everywhere, people wanting answers and interviews with you to find out what happened. Thank god Tim still respected your privacy, because you were never going to talk about that kind of thing with the press. He had sent a friend of his to pick up his things, trying not to talk to you. When he was sober at least. At least 4 times a week, Timothée would call you laving drunk voicemails, pleading you to talk to him and allow him to explain.

Just like tonight.

You sat on the couch watching a show in your sweatpants and sweatshirt, trying to pull your mind away from the fact that the person you wanted most wasn't there with you.

Suddenly your phone rang, making you jump, reaching over to pick it up. The caller ID was as to be expected.

You pushed the green button, pressing the phone up to your ear. You were silent for a second until you spoke up.

"What do you want, Timothée?" You muttered, just loud enough for him to hear and for the phone microphone to pick up.

"Baby?" you heard shuffling on the other line, "Baby, h-hey...," he said softly. Just as you had expected. Drunk.

"Do you need something?"

"I just... wanted to call. To just hear your voice. I just... god, I love you. I'm so sorry, baby, I-" he sounded so sad.

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Timothée." You sat up on your couch, "You say that you love me... just tell me that when you're sober, okay?"

"Baby, please don't go," he whined, desperate for a simple conversation.

"I have to. Call me in the morning."

"No, no, don't you dare hang up this call," he would say through his teeth, getting angry.

"Goodbye, Tim."

"NO, LISTEN, DON'T-" he was cut off from you pressing the red button that hangs up the call.

You sighed, not in the mood for the TV show that was playing anymore. You stood up, turning the TV off and walking back into your bedroom, slumping down on the bed. You pulled the covers over you as tears began to sting your eyes the more you thought about the conversation you were just having. How empty your apartment felt after he was no longer there. Fuck.

Soon enough, you fell into pain-numbing sleep, escaping from what seemed like an endless spiral of negative feelings.

Bang.

The first time you heard it, you were still in a sleep-induced state, thinking it was nothing.

BANG.

Okay, it was definitely something. You slowly sat up out of bed, your bare feet touching the carpet and patting over and out into the kitchen area, hearing the noise again.

"Open up, baby, please, come onnnnn, just open the doooor," a voice on the other side of the door. You didn't even need any hints to know who was on the outside.

"Open the fucking door, babe, I know you're in there," he raised his voice, banging on the door more. Now you had to open up the door before he woke up all your neighbors.

You turned the knob, opening the door a crack. Immediately the smell of alcohol permitted your senses, almost making you gag.

"What is it, Tim."

"Baby, please let me in, I just wanna talk, please baby, I need to talk to you,"

Jesus, he looked like a mess. His hair was messed up to all hell, bags under his eyes, a dirty sweatshirt and black sweatpants. He was pale and looked ill. That's when you spotted the open wound on his forehead. It looked like something you got when you got a bottle hit over your head. You didn't even want to know.

You sighed, thinking you were going to regret this later. You opened the door, pulling him inside.

"We're going to the bathroom," you said, his hand holding yours as you guided him to the hall, his body stumbling back and forth, trying to regain balance. You opened the bathroom door, sitting him on the counter.

A few seconds later, you got some disinfectant and a few other things to help make him look less...that. You took off his hoodie that had its fair amount of stains on it. After you had finally finished, you ordered him to take a shower to help him sober up at least a little bit.

You sat there reading a book on the bed, waiting for him to find his way out of the bathroom. You heard the bathroom door open, Tim walking out with sweatpants he had left at the apartment. You had put his other clothes in the wash.

"Hey, uh... I'm done with the shower," he said, your gaze going to him and away from the page of your book.

You nodded your head in confirmation, Tim smiling, trying to act like there wasn't anything wrong.

"You can spend the night on the couch if you want, just until you sober up." you offered.

Timothée stopped and smiled, you could have sworn you saw him tear up, "Even when people are so cruel to you, you always had kindness in your heart for them."

It astounded him that even after everything he'd done, everything he'd said, you still went out of your way to care for him.

"Words can't describe how sorry I am, I...," this time his tears were threatening to fall.

As much as you hated to admit it,  you still loved him and cared for him. You still had a soft spot for him, despite the fact he had done things to you that should never be done to another human being. You could see that he was having a hard time without you. He was a mess, and you could see it when he walked in.

You closed your book and sat up off the bed, opening your arms, motioning him to embrace you. He gave a weak smile, tears finally falling as he walked over to you, taking a seat next to you on the bed as you wrapped your arms around him, his head burying itself into your neck as he began to cry, your hand rubbing his back.

His nose grazed your neck as he lifted his head to give a small kiss to your neck, the pecks continuing to progress, soon turning into passionate kisses along your throat, making you squirm. You couldn't lie, you missed moments like these. Intimate moments.

"Timothée," you started, not wanting to take advantage of his tipsy state.

"Shh, baby, just let me make you feel good," he continued, going down a little lower, nipping and sucking on your collar bone.

"Timothée, you're drunk," you pushed him back slightly, his eyes meeting yours.

"I've wanted nothing more than to come over and show you how much you meant to me. I know I fucked up, and I want nothing more than to take everything back. But without you, I'm so lost. I can't think. You're my everything," he paused, taking your hand in his, "Just please, let me show you how much I need you,"

You nodded your head slowly and quietly. His lips attached to yours, a feeling you had been longing for ever since you shoved him out the door. He began to undress you, throwing your shirt to the side, exposing your breasts making him curse under his breath, his mouth attaching to them almost immediately, swirling his tongue around them, making you release an erotic mewl, the sounds only driving him to kiss down your stomach.

Once he reached the hem of your leggings, he put his fingers underneath the waistband, pulling down both your underwear and pants in one swift movement, making you gasp as he discarded of them quickly, his long fingers grasping the inside of your thighs, gently prodding them apart, completely exposing you.

He slowly leaned his head down to where you wanted him most, his tongue giving you a rough kitten lick right on your clit, making you whine in anticipation. You loved how he knew your body so well, even better than you did.

Your hands found their way to his scalp, running your fingers through his hair, beckoning him to continue. He then took your small hands from his hair and put them in his hands as he began to go down on you, licking and sucking your pussy, making you moan out and grab his hands tighter, his thumb sub-consciously smoothing over the back of your hand, making your legs tingle and your fingers twitch.

"Fuck, Tim," you sighed, his tongue finding its way inside you, making you bite your lip.

"You taste so good, baby," he groaned, the vibrations making you moan out, your head burying itself in the back into the pillows as your eyes began to roll back.

He then detached one of his hands from yours, inserting two fingers, replacing his tongue, making you moan louder, a familiar knot beginning to form, your pussy tingling as he continued to work you, your mind going fuzzy.

"FucK - g-gonna... cum-," you gasped out in parts, Timothée now inserting his fingers quicker and quicker.

Your legs began to shake as you began to release, Timothée taking out his fingers, watching you - marveling - in the sight that he caused. Your back was arched, your hair slightly messy, lips swollen, cum gushing out of your entrance. Your mouth hung open as loud primal moans escaped your mouth, making you feel amazing.

Once you had calmed down, he moved up, pressing a loving kiss to your lips as you kissed back, your hands once again going to his hair, his body pressed up against yours. He then swung his leg over your body so he was straddling you, his head going down and sucking your neck as he lines himself up.

He pauses, looking into your eyes, "I missed you, baby, I missed you so fucking much," he mutters, beginning to insert himself, making you grab onto his arms.

When he fully inserted himself, you let out a small exhale, his lips meeting yours as be gave you time to adjust. It had been a while.

After he paused, he waited for your nod to continue, which you anxiously allowed, determined to have him make you reach nirvana. You were's disappointed, his thrusts gaining speed quickly, more erotic mewls and groans erupting from your chest, only egging him on to continue... to go faster.

"Fuck, I missed you," he breathed, "I missed this tight fuckin pussy. My tight fuckin pussy. Nobody can make me feel the way you do, baby."

His words mixed with the knot once again tightening in your stomach was almost too much, the need for a climax almost painful, as you felt him get close as well. Your core clenched, making his bite his lip, his head going to the side of your neck, going fast as he could manage, which made the feelings in your pussy all the more mind-numbing.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum," you whimpered out, making him groan in confirmation.

"Me too baby,"

Suddenly, you felt your legs twitch, your body seizing up so much your muscles felt week, your eyes rolling back as you saw stars in your eyelids. You reached your rapture with complete and utter bliss, Timothée climaxing inside of you, knowing you were on birth control.

He helped you ride out your orgasm as well as his own. Your head was so clouded at this point, you didn't even know where to begin. He pulled out, laying down next to you, pulling you close as your body shook slightly from the leftover pleasure still coursing through your body.

"We don't have to talk about this now," he started.

"Shut up, don't ruin the moment," you snapped with a smile on your face.

"I love you," he said gently, his hands playing with your hair.

"Goodnight, Timothée."

[whosaskingwrites]

Forget You (Kuroo x Reader)

A/N: This one is told entirely from Kuroos pov except for the very beginning. Because, Reader's pov wouldn't have been sad. As she doesn't remember him by the time they see eachother again. Edit: Y'all deadass let me not have the theme in here since the 24th. The theme has been added as of the 29th.

WARNINGS: None really? Angst Kuroo is a sad boy. Tooth rotting fluff from Bokuto i guess if that counts as a warning. Kuroo yells at you in the beginning.

Date: Saturday October 24th, 2020

Details: 5.5 pages 2,040 words

Theme: Stranger- when you get heartbroken you have the option of forgetting the person who caused the heart break as long as you say the word stranger with enough conviction while thinking about the person you want to forget.

Angst masterlist

“I can’t fucking stand you! Why are you so Goddamn annoying!” I took a step back as I looked at Kuroo “All I asked was to meet your friends! Since you talk about them all the time!” I yelled back. I didn’t know what had made him so mad we had been dating for six months having been roommates previously.

“And I told you no so why didn’t you accept that?” I shook my head “Actually you just started yelling at me-" “God see! You always have to be fucking right about everything!” I flinched as his voice raised more “You know what? Get the fuck out,” I looked up at him “w-what?” I voiced “Get your shit and get out I don’t wanna see you again. I’m breaking up with you,” My other roommate Kenma had finally come out of his room at that “Hey Kuroo-" I held up my hand to stop Kenma “No…its okay i-i'll leave but I’m leaving my stuff here until I have a new place. Kenma I leave it in your care,” my voice was shaky as I turned.

“Y/n…,” I shook my head at Kenma “I…I’ll see you later Kenma. Kuroo,” I turned a glare on him to see he was already glaring at me “I hope I never fucking see you again,” I turned on my heel leaving the apartment with heavy footsteps. It was sunset and my feet carried me to the trains I took a random one and let my feet carry me as I ended up at park. I had no idea where I was but I couldn’t find myself to care as I cried.

I wiped my tears slightly thinking about Kuroo and I knew then I didn’t want him to occupy my thoughts anymore. I looked at the sunset and focused before saying the word with as much conviction and venom as I could muster. “Stranger,” I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes.

More tears leaked out of my eyes when I recalled my roommate Kenma had kicked me out of our apartment. “Where am I?” I whispered sighing as I realized my phone was dead.

“Excuse me…Are you okay?” I turned my head looking at a guy who stood next to the bench. He had what appeared to be silver and black hair his head tilted slightly to the side casting half his face in the dying sunlight. I vaguely noticed that his eyes were gold and seemed to glow despite no light being cast on them. “I…I think so?” I voiced as I looked back at him.

“You think so? Why are you crying in the park then?” He got closer and sat on the other side of the bench. “My roommate kicked me out of our apartment and my phone is dead so…,” I looked away as he hummed “Um…You could stay at my place,” I turned back to look at him with wide eyes. “I don’t even know your name and you’re asking me to stay at your place? Do you know that makes you sound like a serial killer?” He laughed suddenly eyes crinkling in mirth.

“Sorry I’ve been told I’m too nice by my teammates. Im Bokuto Koutarou,” He held out a hand giving me a smile. I took his hand and mirrored the smile “Y/n L/n. You’re on a sports team?” His smile widened suddenly and in his excitement he pulled me closer still holding onto my hand “Yeah! Volleyball I play for the MSBY Black Jackals,” he puffed his chest with a sense of pride causing me to laugh.

“Volleyball huh? Sounds like fun,” He nodded rapidly “It is! You should come to one of my games- ah sorry! I’ve been talking about me when you’re the one who’s sad,” I shook my head with a smile as he let go of my hands eyes wide in panic “Its okay. I’m not sad anymore but I think I will take you up on that offer as long as you promise not to hurt me,” I held up my pinky towards him giggling lightly.

He smiled widely hooking his pinky with my own “I promise. This will be the best adventure of your life,” I nodded at him “I’ll hold you too that Bokuto,” He chuckled at me

“Deal Y/n,”

Two years.

It had been two years since I’d seen the love of my life. I regretted it everyday since our argument and Kenma never made me feel better about it. “No she never talks about you or asks. And I don’t bring you up,” was the last thing he told me when I asked about her. I never meant to yell or kick her out and I’d never forgiven myself for it. She had blocked my number fairly quickly and Kenma never told me where she was.

“Hey Kuroo pay attention to the game,” Kenma voiced causing me to zone back in and stop thinking about Y/n. I sighed “Why are we even here?” I asked watching Bokuto preform a cross-shot that had the audience screaming. “Bokuto said he wanted to say something and he wanted all of us there,” I shrugged “He’s probably just gonna tell us that he’s got a spot on the Japanese Olympics team,” I sighed out while Kenma clicked his tounge. “Sure…,” I looked at him “Kenma do you know something I don’t?” Before he could answer the whistle blew announcing the Black Jackals as the winners of the match.

Kenma stood “Let’s go congratulate them,” I stood with him as he walked off “Hey you didn’t answer the question!” He kept a quick pace ahead of me while I followed. We stepped onto the court Kenma immediately going to Hinata I couldn’t see Bokuto but my eyes caught sight of a familiar face standing by the Miya twins. She laughed at something Atsumu said and laughed harder when Osamu added something that caused Atsumu to glare at him.

I gasped as I looked at her she looked just as beautiful as she did the last time I saw her. H/l h/c hair cascaded down her back her e/c eyes sparkled brightly like gems she wore a Black Jackals jersey and a pair of jeans both of which hugged her figure in just the right way. I let my feet carry me towards her knowing I needed to apologize. I didn’t know why she was here but Kenma probably invited her so I could see her.

“Y/n!” I called when I was close enough she turned her eyes meeting mine. I expected many emotions to pass her face in all the times I pictured seeing her again. Anger, sadness, happiness, etc. But confusion was never one that crossed my mind. “I’m sorry…Do I know you?” she asked causing my eyes to widen in shock. “No…You couldn’t have…,” I voiced quietly. She stared at me offering a slight smile but nowhere in her expression did I see any form of recognition. And I knew then she had forgotten me entirely.

I smiled back realizing I could start over with her “Sorry I’m Kuroo Tetsuro…You’re very beautiful,” her face turned pink slightly and the Miya twins laughed. Suddenly I saw familiarity light up her eyes and I smiled thinking she remembered me. “Oh! I know you! You’re the friend that Kou always wants me to meet! He gets so sad everytime you blow him off,” she frowned slightly at the end. Causing me to frown as I realized she really didn’t remember. But I also frowned at the name it was vaguely familiar though I couldn’t place where. “Kou?” I mumbled quietly to myself.

“Excuse me! Can I have everyone’s attention?” the gym quieted down everyone knew Bokuto was announcing something so most of the audience had stayed to listen. We all turned to the source of the voice and I noted that he looked beyond nervous for whatever he planned to say.

“I’d like for my beautiful girlfriend to come here,” The twins suddenly shoved Y/n forward causing her to stumble a bit but she walked forward anyway. I froze as the name connected in my mind on why its so familiar 'Kou…Koutarou' 'She calls me Kou and its so cute!' I saw her stop next to him and they smiled at each other “Oh fuck,” I whispered to myself as Kenma slid over. Bokuto was fidgeting slightly and rocking on the balls of his feet a telling sign that he was anxious.

“I’ve got something to say and I’ve thought about it for awhile,” he sent a reassuring smile at her when he noticed she looked nervous. He took a deep breath before continuing “Two years ago I found you crying in a park. I remember you told me that your roommate kicked you out and you called me a serial killer,” she turned red as he and others laughed.

I realized then that the day they met was the same day we broke up. “I took a leap of faith that day and told you that you could stay with me even though I had no reason to,” He chucked lightly at the pink dusting her cheeks “At the time I never would predicted that by the six month mark I would have fallen in love with you,” I frowned at the collective aw leaving the audiences mouths. 'That should be me' I thought as I watched the two of them.

“And after a year and a half I’ve decided that I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. I want to wake up with you next to me, I want to laugh at everything and nothing with you, I want to spend nights with you wrapped in my arms as we talk about whatever comes to mind,” a pink flush had taken over his face and from behind me I heard a sniffle.

“Tsumu are you crying?” I heard “Shut the fuck up Samu,” Kenma snorted next to me at the twins. “I want these things because I’m so completely and Irrevocably in love with you so…,” I watched Bokutos eyes flicker to Akaashi who nodded at him. He dropped to one knee and everything became a buzz as I zoned in on Y/n the audience gasping was barely audible to me as I watched her cover her mouth with her hand her eyes were bright and glassy and every fiber of my being screamed at me to stop this. ‘Get her back! Stop him!’ my mind screamed. I couldn’t move though I was frozen on the spot feeling like id just been doused with freezing cold water.

“Will you do me the honor of continuing this adventure and marry me?” I could hear Bokuto but it sounded so distant to me. ‘No! Say no!’ My mind screamed louder but I felt my heart crack as she nodded in response. He got back up to wrap his arms around her picking her up he spun her around a few times and buried his face in the crook of her neck pressing light kisses to her shoulder.

‘Get away from her!’ I shook my head as I watched him slip a silver band on her finger. I caught sight of the f/c gem attached to it. It was surrounded by small yellow gems that matched Bokuto's eyes. He kissed her cheek as everyone cheered and congratulated them. She pulled back pulling out a small envelope and pressing it into his hands. He looked at her and opened it before his eyes lit up even more. He whispered something to her to which she nodded at. His excitement couldn’t be contained as he picked her up again “I’m gonna be a dad!” He didn’t need the mic this time plenty loud enough without it but it reignited the audience’s excitement as they screamed again.

He placed her down wrapping an arm around her waist and finally I watched my entire world shatter and heart crumble as the love of my life kissed her fiancé and father of her children.

‘That should have been me'

————————————————————————

TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow

[jeonqqin]

no more choices. [m]

k. seungmin x reader x l. felix | friends to lovers au

— ❝You loved your boys. They were your soulmates and the only two people you could imagine spending the rest of your life with. In what way, you didn’t know—until Seungmin returned from his two month trip to America, and things began to change rapidly.❞

WORD COUNT: 9k

CONTAINS: college au, best friends to lovers au, confusing love between best friends au, angst, fluff, smut, dom!felix, soft dom!seungmin, sub!reader

WARNING: threesome (mmf, barely any male on male), oral (male and female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, self-deprecating thoughts

A/N: my first requested fic,, thank you anon!

▸ request

blog masterlist  | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

minnie ♡ [5:47]

Hey princess

minnie ♡ [5:47]

Just got back to the dorm, so I’m gonna unpack

minnie ♡ [5:48]

Do you want me to pick you up after class?

You smiled down at your phone as the professor droned on at the front of the lecture hall, your thumbs rapidly typing a reply. 

[5:48] sent.

No, I’ll walk :)

[5:48] sent. 

I missed you

minnie ♡ [5:48]

I missed you too 

minnie ♡ [5:48]

Call me after class, okay?

Setting your phone down with a dopey smile, you sighed.

Seungmin had gone to America for two whole months to study under a well-known law firm in Los Angeles and was just getting back from the airport today. You wanted to be the one to pick him up, but due to your afternoon classes, he decided to spring for a taxi. 

You really needed a night of mindlessness after having a packed week of lectures and classes, and that was guaranteed when you were with Seungmin. Normally the night would consist of a movie and some cuddling, then the two of you would fall asleep on the couch before nine. And that was exactly what you craved as you struggled to retain any of the information your professor was spewing. 

The lecture ended after another hour, though it felt like several, and you quickly packed up your things into your bag. At least you had gotten your notes and listened enough to have a decent idea of what the next project would be. You could hardly care, you were just eager to get back to your dorm so you could see Seungmin. 

But as you were leaving the university, there was a sudden force knocking into your back and almost pushing you over. “How’s my beautiful girl?”

You laughed as the not-so-stranger placed several tickling kisses on the crook of your neck, holding you in place so you couldn’t wiggle away. “Felix, get off!” 

“No way, babe. You’re stuck with me.” He said, his breath seeing shivers down your spine. 

It had always been the three of you—it was you, Seungmin, and Felix who were stuck together. You grew up with the boys, going to the same elementary school, and coincidentally continuing to enroll in the same college. It was a special connection you shared that not many people could say that they ever experienced, and the three of you came upon it by chance. 

You did everything together, whether it be homework or parties, and you would drop whatever plans you had for each other. They were closer to you than siblings could ever be, and they were ultimately the people you considered to be your soulmates. The three of you could crash onto one of your small dorm beds and talk for hours about things that normally you would keep to yourself until you fell asleep surrounded by one another. 

With them beside you, most first experiences were shared together—being there to celebrate Seungmin’s most recent internship at a prestigious law firm, and when Felix finally earned his third-degree black belt. As well as other things. The first alcoholic drink you ever had was in Felix’s room while his parents were having a dinner party and the three of you managed to sneak some wine. At your first high school dance, the boys went as your dates, matching your dress with a blue tie on Felix and a blue handkerchief haphazardly folded in Seungmin’s breast pocket. 

That night was one you didn’t like to reminisce, solely because you tried to grind against Felix, and had participated in a very awkward slow dance where you happened to knock your forehead into Seungmin’s. 

Seungmin took your first kiss in middle school, followed up by one from Felix, all because they needed to be on even ground. The boys were there for you to cry on when your first boyfriend broke up with you, Felix spewing death threats while Seungmin spoke comforting words in your ear. 

Your first high, your first low—it was all with them. 

“Did Seungmin send you?” You asked, grabbing his hand and continuing forward. Such gestures weren’t foreign between you and Felix—public displays of affection weren’t Seungmin’s cup of tea, but Felix thrived on them. 

“He told me not to tell you.” He snickered, plucking your phone from your back pocket and typing in your password. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but you were asked to call him after class.” 

He pressed the call button and immediately put it on speakerphone. 

“You on your way?” Seungmin asked. 

Felix slipped his arm over your shoulder, leaning towards the phone. “Meet you at the dorm, Minnie!”

“Oh,” there was a brief pause on his end. He sounded hesitant, and despite it being subtle, it didn’t slip by you. “See you soon.”

“Okay, Min. Love you.” You responded out of instinct, waiting for his response with a smile. 

Seungmin hummed. “Love you too.”

You held onto your phone until the beep. Seungmin’s tone set you on edge. He had seemed so happy when he texted you in class, so it was off-putting to hear him in a bad mood. 

With a sigh you stuffed your phone back into your pocket, continuing the short walk to the boy’s dorm. 

“Did he seem weird to you?” You turned to Felix, a small furrow to your brow. 

Felix sighed, ruffling his bangs. “A little bit.” 

“Right,” you frowned. “I hope he’s feeling okay. His flight was pretty long.”

“Maybe he’s just tired.” Felix shrugged, reaching down to lace your fingers with his. “Don’t worry too much.”

You felt a smile twitch onto your lips as he squeezed your hand. He was probably right. 

After their first year of college, Felix and Seungmin were offered to stay with their upperclassmen friend, Bang Chan, in his apartment with him and five others. But they declined, in favor of staying roommates in the school’s dorms. You suspected it was only because they wanted to stay close to you, and as flattered as you were that they loved you enough to pass up an opportunity to live in a more comfortable place, you felt frustrated. The two boys were always throwing away chances to grow and change just so they could be with you. You loved them to death, so you wanted what was best for them, even if that meant that they would distance themselves. 

You had always been the one who thought rationally when it came to your friendship, and you didn’t ever see that changing. 

Felix unlocked the door of his room, pushing it open and throwing his jacket onto his desk. The dorm itself was neat and clean, a tell-tale sign of Seungmin being home—granted, you had seen it the other day and Felix had really let it go. 

“Minnie?” You called as you stepped into the room, peeking your head around the corner to see him already on his bed setting up a movie on his laptop. 

Your voice startled him, causing him to jump. But the surprise was quickly wiped from his face when you launched yourself into his arms, eager to tuck your face into his neck to inhale his cologne. He and Felix always had two very different scents, and they were both two smells that put you at ease. But this time, the moment you pushed your nose against his jaw, you recoiled at the foreign smell that stuck to his skin. 

It was strong, and not at all Seungmin. 

He chuckled at your expression, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his neck. “Sorry, it’s a cologne I picked up in America.”

You frowned. “Right…”

Felix came to your aid immediately at the sense of your displeasure, throwing his arm around your shoulder and tugging you down onto Seungmin’s bed. “Get used to it, Y/n. It’s been two months. Minnie’s practically a new man.”

You grimaced. “Ew, don’t say that.”

Felix popped a quick kiss onto your cheek, smiling widely as you squealed in shock, swatting at his arm. 

Seungmin pursed his mouth to the side in discontent at the scene. He hadn’t seen you or Felix in two months, and it seemed that the constant lovey-dovey actions weren’t getting any milder. 

Great. 

But the buzzing of his phone had him tearing his gaze away from you, grabbing it from the side table to check the caller-ID. Unfortunately for him, you also catch it as well, your smile slowly fading from your lips. He quickly flipped his phone over and muted the buzzing, despite it already being too late for that. 

An awkward silence filled the room as Seungmin cleared his throat. 

“Sarah with a heart?” You laughed; short and tense. “You could’ve taken it, Minnie, it’s not like we would mind.”

Felix raised a brow. “Sarah with a heart?” He snickered, sending Seungmin a smirk. “And who is that?”

Seungmin shrugged, busying himself with his laptop. He definitely didn’t want the two of you asking questions about his visit to America; he had done a few things that he didn’t want to tell you quite yet. He knew Felix would make fun of him, and you would pout for the next couple of weeks. 

But the topic was already up.

“Oh yeah, I met her at one of my friend’s baseball games.” He looked away, tossing his phone onto his bed. “In America.”

“And what’s with the heart?” You asked, tilting your head to catch his eye. “Are you dating her or something?”

Initially, you said it like a joke. But you quickly realized that it wasn’t funny as he remained silent—it was true. 

“You’re dating a girl in America?” Felix asked for both of you, his eyes wide. “And you didn’t tell us this important detail when we regularly asked ‘oi, Seungmin, what’s new?’”

“We’re not really dating, okay? She just—”

“I thought we told each other everything?”

Your broken words had him pulling his lips between his teeth in guilt. He knew you weren’t upset at the fact that he was “dating” someone, but because he withheld the information. In all the years of being friends, you all made it a ritual to tell each other about important changes. And yeah, the fact that Seungmin was romantically involved with a girl from America, was pretty important. 

“Well,” Seungmin shrugged, frustrated. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You scoffed. “Really? Now it’s not a big deal?” You stood from the bed, turning to face him. “What about that guy that asked me out at that bar? Was your reaction then totally justified?”

He remembered. The three of you had gone to a nightclub for Felix’s birthday and you had been pulled from their arms by a man with too much muscle—in his opinion. It wasn’t that he was mad about you being carried away, Seungmin was upset because you took the time to dance with him. So he had grilled you a bit when you returned with messy hair and pink cheeks. 

Perhaps he had been a bit jealous, but that was beside the point. 

“No, I was upset because you ditched us on Felix’s birthday—”

“Oh, because you weren’t jealous at all.” You said accusingly. “Right? It wasn’t because I was giving my attention to that guy and not you, right?”

Seungmin felt the retort bubbling up in his throat, but it was immediately cut down when he watched Felix grab you by the hand and tug you into his chest. His eyes rolled, turning away from the small display. 

“You’re both stressed. We should go to bed and talk about it in the morning, okay?” Felix hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Fine.” You agreed, releasing a breath. 

But the three of you stood there, completely still. 

Fights weren’t unusual for you, although you never once left them unresolved. And you weren’t sure about Seungmin’s feelings, but you were still pretty upset with him. You knew you needed to sort things out, and so did he. Unfortunately for you, Felix was pretty adamant about keeping the conflict between you and Seungmin to a minimum. 

You also had no idea how the sleeping arrangements would go; you were mad at Seungmin, but it was still his first day back and you really wanted him to hold you. 

Felix cleared his throat from beside you, breaking the silence. “I have a shirt for you to wear,” he motioned towards his side of the room. “I’ll grab it.”

You thanked him quietly, turning away from Seungmin just in time to miss him throwing a glare at Felix’s retreating back. He really had no idea what had him so worked up, but with every little domestic act that you and Felix shared, he grew even more irritable. Sure, it could’ve been that he missed you, and he wanted to be the one to put you in his shirt. 

But it also could’ve been his fear of you and Felix growing closer that was clawing its way up his throat.

“Okay,” Seungmin scoffed under his breath. “And you’re complaining about me not telling you things.”

Though, unfortunately for him, you heard him loud and clear. You spun back to face him, fuming. 

“What was that?” You asked slowly, knowing very well what he just said. 

Seungmin threw his arms up as Felix returned to your side cautiously, his spare shirt dangling from his arm. Seungmin glared at the offending piece of fabric. “You two!” He motioned towards you. “It would be fucking insane of me to think that you weren’t a thing now! Do you think the guys don’t tell me shit while I’m gone?”

Felix pressed forward, frowning at Seungmin’s brash words. “It doesn’t matter what people tell you. Y/n and my relationship has nothing—”

“Kissing? Making out with your best friends doesn’t matter now?” Seungmin raised an accusing brow, glad for the few inches he had on Felix.

Your face flushed in both anger and embarrassment. 

It hadn’t been your first kiss shared with Felix—he had been one of your first after all. But one afternoon the mood was just there and he leaned in. It wasn’t even awkward afterward, solely because it was you and Felix, and the two of you always shared romantic gestures. What was a little kissing? You told yourself not to think anything of it.

Until Seungmin’s comment, of course.

“And you tell Hyunjin before me,” Seungmin said, betrayed. Though, he wasn’t really sad because of the betrayal. Something else was presenting to be a harder pill to swallow, “So are you two a thing now or what?”

Your gaze snapped up to him, your eyes wide. “What?”

“Last time I checked, you didn’t just kiss your friends,” Seungmin replied bitterly, his words having more of an impact than you expected. 

Felix took a hasty step forward, his brows pulled tight. “You’re acting like a real asshole, Min. Did America change you or is this shit coming from the guy I called my best friend two months ago?”

Seungmin sneered, standing. “Oh, fuck you, Lix.” He jabbed a finger forward into the shorter man's chest, his mouth opening before he could process what was about to come out of it. “I told you that I was in love with her way before you pulled this shit.”

Silence took over again; raw silence. 

Your mouth hung open at Seungmin’s unexpected confession. Never had you taken into account whether or not the boys could hold those feelings for you, and you were quickly regretting that. They were always your best friends, and thinking of them as something else was playing tricks on your mind. 

Before, you had felt jealous of the girls that the boys occasionally brought up—pouting whenever they called them pretty or stepping away from the conversation when they got into too much detail. But you never chalked it up as jealousy. 

The messy pieces of the puzzle were starting to arrange themselves. 

“Well, I love her too, asshole.”

And what a mess it was indeed. 

You took a step to the side, looking at both boys with wide confused eyes. “You what?”

Felix and Seungmin shared a glance, suddenly unsure about everything going forward. You were traveling into uncharted territory, which was something you were used to doing together, but not to this extent. 

“I didn’t want to tell you,” Felix avoided your gaze. “But yeah. I’ve kinda been in love with you for a while.”

Your eyes flew to Seungmin who wasn’t faring any better than Felix, his own eyes cast downward. You swallowed. “And you?”

He nodded shyly. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Why?”

Your question shocked them, the clear break in your voice included. They understood that you were confused, but they couldn’t push past their best friend instincts when they saw you with tears in your eyes. 

Felix immediately pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your form in a comforting embrace. While Seungmin stepped closer, his hand carefully pushing back a few strands of hair from your face. It was hard for you to hold in the tears that threatened to fall, when the two boys you loved more than anything were holding you so close. You missed them so much that it started to hurt. 

“No, don’t ask why beautiful,” Felix whispered against the side of your head, feeling his own emotions rise up. “You don’t have to ask why.”

Of course, you did. Why would they fall for you, when there were plenty of other girls falling at their feet? Why did both of them have to love you? Why did you feel so conflicted suddenly? 

You took a deep breath, your body stiff. “I can’t choose. It would kill me to choose.”

The boys took a moment to look at one another—having been best friends for so long gave them the ability to understand each other’s thoughts with a simple look. And hopefully, they could see that they were thinking the same thing. 

Felix rubbed your back. “You don’t have to choose, Y/n. We wouldn’t make you do something like that.”

You shook your head, letting your forehead fall against Felix’s shoulder. Your head hurt. “Why—why didn’t you tell me?” You whispered, barely loud enough for them to hear you.

“I—” Seungmin sighed. “It wouldn't be fair to you…” 

“We knew you didn’t feel the same,” Felix said against the side of your head, his voice tense.

Seungmin was someone who easily hid his emotions. Sometimes to the point where you found it hard to decipher what he was really thinking. But Felix couldn’t hide anything from you, and he knew that. 

As for you, they weren’t as well versed in your thoughts. 

You swallowed, pulling away from Felix to look him in the eye. You watched his jaw tick under the pressure of your stare, but you didn’t let up. “You don’t know that.”

Their eyes fell onto you, intense. 

“I love you too.” The saliva collected in your throat. “I love both of you too.” 

You didn’t like the look they shared. Even if they shared their feelings first, it felt like you were the one with everything on the line. Before you had time to dwell on finding the reason, you pushed past them to sit on Seungmin’s bed, suddenly feeling lightheaded. 

“This isn’t you saying you love us like every other time, right?” Felix asked as he hesitantly strode with his hands in his pocket to close the remaining space between him and you, leaving Seungmin standing in the middle of the room. When he was at your side, he caressed your face to take your nervous eyes away from the floor and over to him instead. The crease between your brows softened automatically when you met Felix’s gaze, and he leaned in so you could feel his breath against your lips. “Do you mean it the same way we do?” Straightening up, his calm and laidback aura disappeared for a second, allowing you to see the worry behind his eyes. 

Humming in acknowledgment, you nodded. His palm was cool against your hot cheek, and it was suddenly very clear why your heart fluttered every time he touched you. “I do. I feel the same way.”

“And that’s why you kissed me?” Felix questioned, Seungmin slowly joining his side. His fading auburn hair hung in his eyes and you resisted the urge to push it out of the way for him. Felix leaned close, “The whole time I was waiting for you to tell me to stop, but you didn’t. I thought about it for days and couldn’t get the feeling of your lips out of my head.” 

Your breath caught in your throat as you listened to Felix’s words whilst looking into Seungmin’s darkening gaze. Something about the way he looked at you made your palms sweat, and the vibration of Felix’s deep voice didn’t make it any better. 

“Did you know how you were affecting him, Y/n?” Seungmin asked, the subtle teasing tone in his voice surprising you. 

Your head shook before you processed what he really said. 

“Well, did you feel the same way?” It was Felix’s voice that asked, his lips caught between his teeth. 

Looking down, you watched Felix’s hand fall to your knee, carefully pushing your thighs apart as he took a seat beside you on his bed. All of a sudden, the fabric of your jeans felt too constricting under his palm, and the sweater was too warm on your body. Felix could see your need in the way your fists clenched from where they pressed against the bedsheets, and he had to hold back a snicker. 

Sliding his hand further up your thigh, he leaned into your neck to simper just outside of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “What do you really want us to be, princess?” Felix whispered, running his tongue over his lip. “Best friends? Or…”

His fingertips brushed between your thighs, the touch so light that you had to look to make sure it was really happening. Your breath caught. “Lix, I—” But his palm flattening against your core had you choking on your words. 

“I don’t think what you did to us was very fair,” Felix hummed. You felt the whimper bubble out of your throat before you even realized you made the sound. But Felix was proud of his effect on you. “I think we deserve an apology.” His hand slid over your dampening cunt, carefully—almost lovingly. “Right, Min?”

Your eyes jumped to Seungmin, having forgotten he was still there. He stood in the middle of the floor, stock still, eyes hyper-focused on his best friend’s hand at the junction of your thighs. He had been silently watching up until Felix acknowledged him, his eyes lifting not to look at who addressed him, but you. Though it looked like he was trapped in place, you suddenly had a sinking feeling that he would turn around to leave. So you took your bottom lip between your teeth and sent him a pout that he always had a difficult time denying, “I’m sorry, Minnie…”

Seungmin made a little choked up noise at the back of his throat, taking a hesitant step closer to see more clearly.

“Show us how sorry you are, sunshine,” Felix said, his voice low. Patting your thigh, he commanded, “Up. Let’s see our pretty girl make it up to us, hm?”

Whimpering, you complied, standing up on shaky legs to give Felix better access to your jeans. He carefully reached to pull you closer, maneuvering you between his thighs to unzip your jeans and pull them over your hips. The pace was agonizingly slow, and you couldn’t help the embarrassed blush that rose to your cheeks when he let out a low whistle. He slid one finger under the elastic of your underwear, releasing it with a snap against your skin. “Cute, huh?” Looking over your shoulder, his eyes met Seungmin’s. 

“Wow,” Seungmin swallowed. “Pink panties, Y/n?”

Though you couldn’t see him move closer, you could feel his fingers ghost along the hem of your shirt, gently lifting it over your head and throwing it to the floor. 

Felix snickered, tracing a finger over the cup of your bra. “They match. Why am I surprised?” 

You preened under his touch, lifting your arms to curl around Felix’s neck. You were nervous to take that first step again—you could mask the last kiss as a mistake if Felix miraculously changed his mind, but if you took that leap for a second time, fixing what little of the friendship you still had would be impossible. You would be too far to go back. 

Fortunately—despite it being a risk—the decision came easy to you. 

Your legs saddled his lap, your breath shallow as you cautiously brought your lips to the corner of his mouth, placing a coy kiss there to feel the power fall back into your hands. His hand stuttered as he placed it on your waist, his fingers fumbling over the waistband of your underwear. But his eyes flickered to Seungmin and a small chuckle left his lips. “I don’t think it’s been made even yet, beautiful. Don’t you think Minnie should get the chance to kiss your pretty lips before I do?”

Seungmin snorted, sliding his hands over your ribs. “It’s like middle school all over again.”

“Yeah, but this time I got her first kiss—” Felix smirked, transitioning to English flawlessly, “Mate.”

Seungmin glared playfully, making a point by threading his fingers through your hair and coaxing your head to turn his way. “Jealous?”

You had momentarily forgotten that Seungmin just got back from spending two months in America, and his unexpected English sent a spike of arousal through you. With a whine, you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into you to close the gap. 

Seungmin’s lips felt different from Felix’s, his approach automatically more aggressive than the tender kiss that you and Felix had shared. His teeth nipped at the flesh of your lips, which had you involuntarily bucking your hips against Felix. There was something about how they were still fully clothed while you were presented almost completely bare to them that had you painfully turned on. 

Taking advantage of your distracted state, Felix slid his fingers past your underwear. In your surprise, you bit down on Seungmin’s lip, melting at the groan he let out while Felix continued to tease you, spreading your arousal from your entrance to the little sensitive nub. Finally, he sunk two slick fingers inside, slowly stroking your velvet walls, and you uttered a shuddering whimper into Seungmin’s mouth. 

“God, baby… You’re so tight.” Felix groaned, feeling around your cunt as you began meeting his prods. “Fuck, Min. You have to feel how perfect this is.” Felix hissed, using his free hand to grab Seungmin’s and push two of his digits in beside his own.

The feeling of both of the boy’s fingers stuffed into your core was something you never wanted to forget—your moans loud to convey your lust to your two best friends. 

It was your little noises that had both of them twitching in their trousers, the whole scenario still so unbelievable in their eyes. The only reason why they never wanted to pursue their feelings for you was a fear of losing their relationship with each other. They knew there was no way that it could be the three of you if they tried to make you theirs individually. 

“You’re wet because you have our fingers filling that cute pussy of yours, hm?” Felix grunted against your neck, sucking bruises into your unmarked skin. 

With a particular thrust of what you believed to be Seungmin’s fingers, you jerked away from his lips, feeling boneless and falling against Felix’s chest. “Yes. Feels so good—fuck.” Eyes squeezing shut, your back arched. Seungmin then found that special spot inside you, pressing his long fingers against it over and over and over again. It was too much, your thighs almost snapping together if it weren’t for Felix’s elbow pushing them apart. 

Inching closer, Seungmin used his free hand to slide the skinny straps of your bra down, one at a time. As soon as your breasts came into view, the boys groaned, Felix’s face only inches away as Seungmin tweaked the nipple between his fingers. Seungmin was usually an ass man, but nothing could compare to how pretty your tits looked under his hands. He had to hold in a moan when you wiggled around and stuck your chest out for him, wantonly panting and mewling his name.

“I’m gonna cum—” You gasped, tugging on Felix’s shirt, the feeling of the two boys working on you becoming too much. 

But suddenly, the feeling of fullness disappeared as Felix pulled his fingers away from you, dragging Seungmin along—ruining your orgasm. Your eyes snapped open with tears clouding your vision, walls clenching around nothing, desperate for them to bring the pleasure back. 

“Not yet, baby. I think I want your first orgasm to be on my tongue.” Felix murmured, sending Seungmin a taunting look. 

“Now?” You asked, pleading. 

Felix chuckled, popping his slick covered fingers into his mouth. But then, torturously, he pulled his digits out and pushed them past your own lips, allowing you to savor your own juices along with his unique taste on your tongue. Patting the bed beside him, he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, “Come on. Sit up here for me, beautiful.” 

“Hold on,” Seungmin huffed, playfully nudging Felix’s shoulder. The younger of the two wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing a giggle out of you, and sat in the place beside Felix. Hoisting you up onto his lap, he situated you so your feet rested against the outside of his thighs, leaving you open for Felix’s prying eyes. “This is the least you could do for me while Felix gets to taste you.” 

You shivered at the feeling of his breath against the back of your neck, leaning your forehead on his shoulder. “But Minnie, I could—”

“Not now, beautiful. Be good and then you can play with us.” Felix said, biting his lips before tugging your underwear down your legs and immediately wrapping his lips around your clit. He then slid—not his fingers—but grabbed Seungmin’s hand and pushed two of his fingers into your pussy. You gasped, bucking up against his hand. 

You heard Seungmin’s moan in your ear, followed by your own, “Fuck, honey. Look at you…”

Felix hummed a chuckle, letting Seungmin move his own fingers inside of you. And soon enough, he started to really finger fuck you, hard enough for you to feel feverish. The precise rub of his long and thick fingers had you painfully close again. With Felix’s deadly suction on your bud and Seungmin’s fingertips brushing the sweet spot inside of you, the buzz in your stomach climbed quickly. 

Finally, the little cord in your belly snapped. 

Moaning through your orgasm, your hips shook and jerked, your fingernails digging into Seungmin’s wrist that was still pumping in and out of you. Felix was quick to flatten his tongue over your gushing slit, collecting as much of your juices as he could, like a man starved. 

“Your legs are shaking, baby,” Seungmin stated, pulling his soaked fingers from your hole and running a soothing palm over your quivering thigh. 

You smiled, completely breathless, just trying to recover from your orgasm. “Yeah, just—wow.”

Standing from his kneeling spot, Felix wiped your release from his mouth. His eyes darkened at your fucked out form being held tightly by Seungmin’s strong arms, and he made a quick decision. With a slow stride to his own bed, Felix pulled his shirt over his head and fell back onto his mattress. When you sent him a look of confusion, he raised a brow, “You wanted to thank Minnie for being so patient, right?”

Your head turned to face Seungmin, blinking up at him as you nodded. “Yeah…” So you slid to your knees, taking Felix’s spot on the floor. Though, not before running your palms under his sweatshirt and helping him lift it over his head, nearly whimpering at the sight of his toned chest. 

Felix laughed, unbuckling his belt. “She missed you.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin smiled as you leaned forward to place a soft kiss against his stomach. His hand cupped the side of your face. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”

You hummed, coy. “You still smell different.”

Seungmin snorted, leaning back against his hand to watch you unbutton his jeans with eager movements. “I’ll use my other cologne from now on.” 

“Good.” You said, slowly pulling his jeans down his hips. The second his hard and throbbing cock was in your hand, you could feel yourself start to clench around nothing, dying to feel the weight of it on your tongue. Stroking him slowly, you whispered, “You’re bigger than I thought.”

Through his heavy breaths, Seungmin laughed. “Do you flatter every guy you’re about to suck off?”

Glancing up at him with the wide-eyed look he loved so much, you answered cheekily, “just you,” and you were pulling his cock into your mouth, eagerly running your tongue over it. 

Seungmin was in heaven—he never expected to see your pretty lips pulled tightly over his dick, and it was so much better than he thought. The hardest thing was keeping himself from tipping his head back and shutting his eyes because of the pleasure. He didn’t want to miss the way your eyes watered when you dropped down and took everything you could, or how your tongue darted around the head when you lifted up. And he had to hold back a moan when you swallowed around him until your saliva pooled out of your mouth and leaked down your chin.

With everything you were doing, Seungmin couldn’t help but groan and call you his good girl. You preened at the praise, happily wrapping your mouth around the head of his cock to gently suck, tasting the precum that leaked after his low moan.

Threading his long fingers in your hair, he guided your head as your sweet mouth brought him closer to his release, gasping when you moaned around him as he held you down. How he got so lucky—he had no idea. 

“Cum on her face, Min.” 

Seungmin was caught off guard by Felix’s deep voice, not expecting it to send a jolt of electricity straight to his cock. 

But it did, and with one last moan, Seungmin cursed, pulling his cock out of the perfect feeling of your mouth. He roughly stroked himself to orgasm—cumming in multiple spurts over your face. You took it eagerly, shutting your eyes and obediently opening your mouth to catch as much as you could. The grunts of his pleasure fell to your ears like honey—you loved Seungmin’s voice almost as much as you loved Felix’s, and hearing him moan so prettily had you leaking. 

His hand dropped from his cock and he released a shaky breath, watching intently as you opened your eyes and kept eye contact as you gathered his cum on your tongue. You swiped your index finger over the strands of his drying cum on your face as you showed him the pooling of white on your tongue. At a loss for words, Seungmin just watched as you closed your mouth to swallow it down, unaware of the rumbling groan in his chest. You then presented him with your clean tongue with a coy smile.

“Fuck,” Seungmin huffed as you pushed your cum covered fingers into your mouth as if it was your favorite treat, cleaning up every drop that was left on your cheeks. His broken voice caught, “How are you real?”

Still filled with excitement, you lifted to your feet—only wobbling a little—and wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. Seungmin hummed into your mouth, shifting you closer with his arms sliding around your waist, pushing his lips harder against yours. You sighed, pleased with the way he could handle you so effortlessly. 

With the way you melted into his arms, he completely forgot about your argument from earlier. He didn’t care. You could love Felix more than him—as long as he could still hold you, he didn’t care. 

“As pretty as you two look right now,” Felix rasped from his place behind you, his voice strained and rough and—wow, you never thought he could sound hotter. “I’d really love to feel your tight little pussy around my cock, sunshine.” 

Looking back, your hands tightened on Seungmin’s shoulders at the sight of your gorgeous best friend laid out over his bed like a god. His tan skin illuminated by the setting sun that peeked through the window, the freckles that you loved prominently contrasting against his flesh. How could one person be so beautiful?

Even though his cock stood up straight in attention, pulsing with need and leaking down the length, he still acted laid-back and carefree to tease you. “I waited so politely. I think I deserve a thank you too, right?”

You nodded with a smile, more than happy to do as he asked. There was no way you could deny your sweet friend, not after everything he had done for you. 

When you approached his bed and crawled over him, you leaned down to kiss the head of his cock gently before straightening up to peck his grinning lips. But as you turned to grab his shoulder, about to straddle him, Felix pulled away with a smirk, shaking his head. Before you could ask why he raised a brow and glanced to the side. “Hands and knees. Look at Minnie.”

Understanding his request, you spun to face Seungmin, and couldn’t help but pull your lip between your teeth. 

He watched from the other side of the room, his arms folded behind his head as he watched with bated breath. You hadn’t expected Seungmin to enjoy something like this, but seeing his red face and dark eyes, it made you even more eager to continue. 

He was soft against his stomach, but the way Felix grabbed your hips roughly to manipulate your body just the way he wanted, adjusting your wet heat snugly so it was hugging his hard length, it made Seungmin’s dick twitch. Cheekily, Felix leaned over your back to murmur into the back of your neck, just loud enough for Seungmin to hear, “I think Minnie should get a punishment, baby. It’s only fair since he went off to find some American girl while we were patiently waiting for him to get back.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his rutting hips against your ass, head going dizzy. “But—but he didn’t—oh, fuck…” The head of his cock slipped over your sensitive clit, cutting your breath short. 

“Uh-uh, beautiful. He was so mean to us when we came over. He needs to see what he would’ve been missing if he went off with Sarah, got it?” Felix gritted through his teeth, snapping his strong hips into you, just grazing his cock against your hot folds. 

You then nodded your head fast, no longer thinking straight. You didn’t want to punish Seungmin—you missed him, and whatever disagreement you had before was erased the moment he held you in his arms. But with Felix teasing you to insanity, you just said whatever you could. 

Lifting you up with his hands on your hips, Felix placed one last kiss against your spine as a reward. When he lined himself up to your entrance—torturously prodding only the head of his cock inside you—you squirmed in his tight embrace, wanting more. In English, you heard Felix murmur, good girl, and then he was pushing his length into you.

With no fight left in you, Felix slid his cock into you with no trouble, his hips sitting flush against your ass. Before your narrow walls were quite used to the new stretch, you suddenly felt a push of his hips and an unexpected pain on your ass, a loud smack falling flat in the small room. Whining, you looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with Felix’s now stern ones. He growled, “Look at him while I fuck you.”

Obediently, your eyes shifted to Seungmin, and Felix started moving. 

It was all so much. With Seungmin watching you get fucked by your best friend so intently, and Felix’s low groans above you, it was hard to take. Everything was overwhelming in the best of ways—you didn’t even remember when your eyes started watering. With your high moans mingling with Felix’s low growls, it was pornographic. 

And Seungmin was suffering. 

Breath heavy and short, he took his hardening cock in his hand and pumped it slowly. All he could do was watch Felix push in and out of your tight little hole, his eyes flickering between your half-lidded gaze and Felix’s taunting smirk. Felix really did want to punish him. 

“Later—” Felix panted, thrusting hard into you. “Later we will see how good you are with both of our cocks stuffed inside of you—ah, see how much you can take with Minnie’s fat cock right next to mine, hm?” Felix groaned, planting another hard smack to your ass as you mewled at his filthy words. He might’ve been talking to you, but his eyes bore into Seungmin’s, both of the boys making a silent promise to each other. 

You were theirs—both of theirs.

Quickly, you were approaching your high for the second time, your stomach tensing and mouth falling open. As your breath began to pick up, Seungmin caught on and motioned to Felix, biting his lip at your pleasured expression. 

So Felix hummed, sliding his hand over your throat and lifting you up so your back was flush to his chest, giving Seungmin a perfect view of your pretty tits bouncing with each thrust. Felix pressed his lips against your ear, smirking at your little pleas. “If you cum now, I won’t let you feel Seungmin’s cock inside of you.”

You practically cried, feeling the wetness of your eyes fall to your cheeks. “Please, Lix. It’s so much—so good. I need to cum…” 

But your whines fell to deaf ears, Felix’s focus zeroed in on how Seungmin gripped his cock hard and hissed through his teeth. His length pulsed inside of you, his groan sending vibrations straight to your cunt and causing you to clench down on him. His orgasm hurled into him by surprise, a deep string of curses falling from his lips as he haphazardly pushed your front back against the mattress and pulled himself out of you just in time to release over your ass. Growling, his palm connected with your wet thigh one last time for good measure. 

Huffing raggedly from his orgasm, Felix clenched his jaw. “Get over here and fuck her.”

Seungmin didn’t waste any time getting off his bed, and stumbled forward, ready to finally feel you around him. He kneeled beside Felix, allowing the shorter boy to manhandle you so you were leaning back against his chest, feeling secure with his arm around your torso. 

Felix grabbed Seungmin by the wrist and pulled him forward, looking at his best friend carefully. “C’mere Min…” He instructed gently. 

Seungmin nodded, grabbing your hips and lining himself up to your entrance. He needed to feel you too—he needed to so bad. “Okay—fuck, Lix. She’s so wet.”

“Yeah, she is.” Felix chuckled, rubbing his free hand down to play with your wet folds, showing Seungmin what he was really in for. 

You shook when Felix’s thumb brushed against your throbbing clit, a broken moan leaving your lips. Both boys hissed as you bucked forward, more desperate than they thought. 

Seungmin then pushed into you, moaning softly at the tightness of your cunt. 

You cried out, head falling against Felix’s shoulder as the stretch of Seungmin’s cock rendered you speechless. It was hard to believe you had just been fucked, with the completely new feeling of Seungmin’s silky length teasing your sweet-spot, the head just barely brushing it as he bottomed out. He groaned at the wonderful warmth, but held you tight, whispering words of praise mingled with curses of how tight and perfect you felt around him. 

“Please, just—” you moaned, pushing down on him. “Just fuck me, Seungmin.” 

Felix ran his lips down your neck, grabbing onto your hips as Seungmin shifted just enough to brush that small spot up inside of you. Felix lifted your hips as you whimpered, groaning in your ear, “You heard her, Min. Fuck her.”

So he did—thrusting his hips forward with a strangled moan. 

There was no better feeling than having your two favorite boys holding you so tightly. Felix’s fingers digging into your sides hard enough to form bruises and Seungmin’s strong arms caging you under him. It was ethereal. Even though you were overstimulated and so so painfully close to your orgasm, you couldn’t help but feel so happy. Never did you think you would feel so happy, But with them, how could you be surprised?

Seungmin’s thrusts stuttered, his cock digging into you at a breathtaking speed, and Felix’s hands starting to bounce you up and down on him—it was too much. Sobbing, you came around his cock, pulsing and clenching and leaking all over Felix’s strong thighs. 

“Shit, baby, you’re cumming so well around his cock. Look at you,” Felix praised, dragging his fingers over your pulsating nub to coax another loud moan from your throat. Your orgasm was intense—possibly the most intense you had ever felt. 

As hard as it was to keep a rhythm, Felix helped Seungmin the best he could to bring him to his second high, his dick twitching inside of you and adding to your pleasure. “Oh, fuck—”

“Cum inside her hot pussy, Minnie.” Felix moaned, high pitched and pretty, one of his hands guiding Seungmin’s hips into you for one last hard thrust before he released deep inside of you—just like Felix instructed. 

You felt so gloriously full, Seungmin’s warm cum pooling between your legs. You hummed softly, threading your fingers gently through Seungmin’s soft hair and leaning your head against Felix’s where he had his face tucked into the crook of your neck. Both breathing heavily from the intensity of their orgasms. 

Seungmin panted, leaning into your palm and making eye contact with Felix. “Did you…?”

Felix nodded, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Yeah.”

The three of you smiled wide, your heartbeats in sync as Seungmin shifted you to lay properly on the bed, carefully helping Felix collapse next to you. He felt warmth spread through his chest, seeing the both of you blissed out and exhausted. “Hold on, I’ll get something to clean up.”

Felix snorted. “Always cleaning, huh?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes fondly, standing and moving to the bathroom to get a washcloth, grabbing a few of his shirts and clean pairs of your respective underwear. 

His mind swarmed with thoughts—both good and unpleasant. But he pushed them away for another time. He just wanted to curl up around you and fall asleep, perhaps he could deal with them in the morning. 

But returning, he froze, his eyes locked onto you and Felix tucked in together on the bed, you pressing soft kisses along the boy's face. Felix’s little laughs were a complete contrast to his persona he had brought earlier, but still so entirely Felix. It made Seungmin’s chest tighten. And in the short time, he had been gone, you had managed to throw your hair up and out of your face, letting him see every little bruise and bite Felix had left on your neck. 

The picture was both so perfect and so heartbreaking. 

Finally, your lips landed a quick kiss on his, your eyes soft as Felix leaned in for another and another. You giggled, rolling to rest your weight on him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Gently brushing Felix’s golden hair from his eyes, you sighed, “I love you, Lix.”

He smiled, tugging you closer. “I love you more.”

Seungmin never thought it would hurt to hear you say those words to each other—it was so pure, so intimate. He actually felt like he was intruding on something, which was foreign when it came to you and Felix. Never before had he felt like an outsider, it had always been the three of you against everything. 

He knew it would change after you realized their feelings for you, but never like this. 

He was brought out of his thoughts by your sweet voice, his eyes snapping to you, and his heart aching at your pretty smile. “Hm? W-What was that?”

You frowned briefly, catching the hitch in his voice, “What’s wrong, Minnie?”

He quickly threw the washcloth to Felix, his friend catching it with ease as he carefully placed your clothes on the bed. “Nothing. Just tired.” He cleared his throat, motioning back towards the bathroom. “I’m just going to take a shower, yeah?”

And without waiting for your reply, he slid out of the room, finally catching his breath. 

His heart thundered in his chest, the warm feeling of embarrassment encasing his face. He quickly turned the shower on and leaned against the wall for a moment to compose himself. Listening to the water run, he felt a sting at the back of his eyes, cursing as he pressed his palms against them. 

As much as he wanted to regret what just happened, he couldn’t—it was solely the best moment of his life, after taking you to that silly high school dance where you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and he could feel your warm breath against his neck. That was the first time you told him that you loved him. 

Granted, it was only as a friend, but the moment still made his stomach twist in knots. 

Running a hand through his hair, he stepped into the shower. Seeing you and Felix together intimately was one of the biggest reasons why he didn’t want to go to America and the only reason why he tried to date Sarah. And confusingly enough, after tonight, he wasn’t sure if he was just upset about his chances with you being gone, or if he was upset about both of you being in love with someone else. 

Did he really love both of his best friends?

“Seungmin?” 

He jumped at the sound of your voice, gripping onto the shower curtain to keep balance. He must’ve been so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear you open the door. 

He cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

The curtain pulled back and his eyes widened to see not only you but Felix—both of you still naked. Your expression showed your concern, and despite being naked in front of the two people he recently discovered that he was in love with, he couldn’t help but feel bad for making you worry. 

You sighed, sharing a look with Felix, before stepping into the shower in front of Seungmin, back facing the running water. Felix followed suit, taking the place behind you and pushing Seungmin out of the reach of the warm water. He could hardly care though, with the two most beautiful people he had ever seen, naked, and only inches away from him. 

“Minnie, tell us what’s wrong. We’ve known you for our whole life, you can’t say you’re ‘just tired’ and think we won’t notice you’re upset.” You said, running your hands over his shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. 

Seungmin swallowed. “I don’t—”

“Seriously, Min,” Felix huffed, leaning against your back to catch Seungmin’s wandering eyes. “Tell us what’s wrong. We haven’t gotten this far by not talking to each other.” 

It broke your heart to see him like this. Especially since you didn’t know what caused it—

“I think I’m in love with both of you.” 

Your eyes widened, and you felt Felix’s grip on your shoulders suddenly tighten. You really didn’t expect him to say that. 

“We love you too, Min,” Felix said, brows creasing in question. “You know that.” His voice was hoarse, he sounded choked up.

Seungmin felt goosebumps rise over his skin, but he knew it was due to Felix’s words and not because he was cold standing outside of the stream of water. “I know you guys do. I get it…” He trailed off as a conclusion. It was stupid, he knew that, but he was a lot more insecure than he let on. 

You glanced back at Felix, and you locked guilty eyes. As his best friend, you knew that Seungmin didn’t like sharing his feelings freely, so you should’ve seen his grief coming. 

Biting your lip, you took Seungmin’s face in your hands, directing him to look at you. His eyes were glossy and wide, and you could feel your heart clench in your chest at the sight of the innocent little puppy that you grew up with. “Seungmin, you don’t get it. We love you too—so so much.” You smiled, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“I love you too, Seungmin.” Felix swallowed, clearing his dry throat. “More than you know.”

He couldn’t fathom the chances of his world coming together so perfectly, it just seemed so impossible in his mind to be able to have you both. All his life he had called the two of you his—his best friends, his soulmates, his partners, whatever title seemed to fit. But he never believed that there would ever be a day where he was able to just call you his.

Maybe he finally could.

In a burst of emotion, Seungmin pushed forward, leaning down to kiss Felix. Your body was suddenly stuck between the two boys, your hands wrapping around Seungmin’s shoulders as his arms snaked around your waist, holding you tight against him. 

Growing up, Seungmin never liked his family home. It was too big, way too empty—filled with many memories that he would rather not think of. It didn’t feel like a home to him. And you and Felix replaced that empty space. You gave him comfort and Felix gave him security, and he loved every bit of what you all shared. So he didn’t mind that he didn’t have a home. 

But standing in the smallest shower in the world, with you and Felix by his side, he felt different. 

Pulling away from Felix, he panted, licking the taste of his best friend from his lips. You giggled at the goofy smiles on their faces, placing a quick kiss on Seungmin’s cute nose. 

Both boys stared down at you—their girl—in complete and devoted awe.

[angstysebfan]

PR Stunt Gone Wrong - Chapter 26

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: You are a fellow actress in the MCU, Bucky’s love interest. You met Seb during the CA: WS and you guys hit it off. Chemistry on and off the set, but never dated until after Infinity War. During filming of FATWS, the pandemic caused everything to shut down. Seb offered you to spend quarantine with him, but somewhere along the lines, things go wrong and Seb makes a PR decision.

A/N: I was going to to this in a Bucky story, but then I decided to keep it Seb. With everything going on with Seb over the last several months, I came up with this story in my head. Obviously a lot of this is made up, but it is using what we know Seb has been doing over the last several months.

The next morning you wake up to your cell phone ringing. You look at the Caller ID and see your manager’s name. You roll your eyes and ignore the call, but after a few seconds she calls again. “Hello?” you answer, making sure you sound annoyed. “I have been trying to reach you for weeks, where have you been?” your manager asks. “Busy,” was all you replied. 

“What is this that you and Sebastian went out for a lunch date yesterday? I thought you were done with him,” she says. “What the hell are you talking about? I had an appointment, and he asked if we could talk. We went to lunch and then went out separate ways,” you say. “Well the pictures that have just been posted online tell a whole different story,” she says.

You quickly got out your laptop and looked and sure enough there are pictures of you and Seb sitting at your table for lunch, shy smiles at each other, another of you two walking down the street, and another of you hugging. “What the hell? Whatever Seb and I know it’s not real,” you say, “Why do you care?” you ask, hoping to get the truth from her.

“I... I was just concerned,” she says. You roll your eyes, “Ok, well it doesn’t matter, since he is with her,” you say while quickly shooting a text to Seb. “Y/N, you have no idea of the ramifications this could have,” your manager says. Your eyebrows shoot up, “Oh? I actually think I might,” you say. There is silence, “What do you mean?” she asks. “Let’s just say I know more then people think, but not enough to mean anything. But I have to go and call Chase to make sure he knows what is going on, bye,” you say before hanging up. You hope that you opening your mouth doesn’t hurt the case.

Seb calls you and you quickly pick up, “Seb, I was so stupid, I might have let it slip to my manager that I have an idea of how bad this could get,” you say. “Damn, ok. I’ll my lawyer and see what he says. I hope this doesn’t ruin anything,” he says. “I know I was just so upset that it slipped out,” you say apologetically. “It’s ok Y/N. I understand, but Ale is fuming about the pictures,” he says.

“Who the fuck cares! She is a bitch who put you into this situation,” you say. He sighs, “I know, but this is going to make it difficult to go out to the lawyers without her. I can’t have her find out what’s going on, it will ruin everything,” he says. “Um.. what if I put out a statement, saying we were burying the hatchet between us, and I was giving my blessing to your relationship,” you say.

“Y/N, fans already hate me, do you really want them to come after you? I don’t,” he says. “I wont let you sacrifice yourself for me,” he adds. “So what do we do?” you ask as you hear a beep indicating its your call waiting. You look and see Chase’s name, “Seb I’ll call you back,” you say before hanging up and answering Chase’s call.

“Hey Chase, I was just about to call you,” you say. “So when you said you needed space to think and decide, was that just from me?” he asks. You sigh defeated, “Chase I swear I... We went to the lawyers and he asked me to have lunch to talk. That was it. I wanted to get it over with so that I could just be alone with think,” you say. There is silence on the other end.

“Chase, I swear, it didn’t mean anything. All we did was talk about the case. I am currently packed up to go down to my shore house and think,” you say. “Y/N, who are we kidding here? We both know he is the one you want,” Chase says. “Chase, I meant it when I said that I had feelings for you. I... I don’t know if I am going to be with Seb. I don’t know if I can trust him with my heart again,” you say.

“He loves you. He tells me all the time, and not to rub it in my face. He honestly loves you, and he regrets everything that happened. I can’t stand in the way of my friends happiness,” he says. “Chase...” you say as tears come to your eyes. “Y/N, I care about you, you know I do. And it’s because I care about you, that I am taking myself out of the equation,” he says. 

“Who says I want you out of the equation? Why don’t I ever get a say in anything?! Seb makes decisions for me and breaks my heart, and now you are making a decision for me, and again breaking my heart. Why can’t I make my own decisions just once,” you say crying. “I don’t want to break your heart, I am just protecting all of us,” he says.

“Well, fine job you’re doing, because my heart is once again broken. Goodbye Chase,” you say before hanging up. You cover your face and just cry in a mix of frustration and sadness. You knew what Chase was doing, but you were considering being with him. Now you don’t know what to do. You finish packing and get dressed before heading out. Separation from the world is exactly what you need.

--

You sit at the top of the beach and the cool breeze blows your hair everywhere. Tucker is running every which way, enjoying his time playing in the sand. When you left your apartment, you went to your mom’s and picked up Tucker and came down to your beach house on the Jersey Shore. You turned off your cell phone and have kept your computer closed. You needed time. Time to think. Time to heal. Time to come to terms with where your life is.

You sit there and think of how different everything was compared to how you thought it would be. And the one thing that made you the angriest, was that all these terrible things were a result of other people deciding what was right for you. Deciding to protect you from harm, instead of letting you be involved and working together.

While you knew why Sebastian did what he did, you still don’t know if you will ever be able to fully forgive him and trust him. He broke your heart into a mission pieces, and you have had a hell of a time gluing it back together. You know he is unhappy, and that he doesn’t want to be in this situation, but because he tried to protect you, he broke you. It just shows good intentions are not always good.

Then there is Chase. The man who has been by your side and actually helped you get your life together. He was there through your own personal hell, making sure you knew you were not alone. You were stupid to allow the relationship to go as far as it did, because once again, to “protect” you, he broke your heart. Both men that you gave your heart to, broke your heart. Maybe you are meant to be alone. 

--

Seb paces in his office trying again and again to reach you. You were supposed to call him back, and you never did. He spoke with Chase and found out what happened, and knows you are hiding somewhere. He has so many things he needs to tell you. 

He spoke to his lawyer about the pap pictures. Turns out Ale had him followed by paps, knowing he was hiding something. He kicked her out of his apartment and told CAA that he was done. They started threatening your career, but he refuses to allow them to hurt him or you. His lawyer told him that the case is going to trial, and that he has every reason to believe they will win. Thankfully because you have given sworn statements, neither you nor him have to go to court, unless something comes up.

Seb keeps pacing, thinking about where you could be. He went to your apartment, but you aren’t there. He called your mom, but she didn’t want to talk to him, not that he blames her. Where could you have gone? Are you in the city? Are you safe? He keeps pacing until it finally hits him. He knows where you are. He quickly throws clothes in a bag and runs out of the apartment, calling for an Uber. 

It takes almost 2 hours to finally reach his destination. He runs up to the house and knocks, but there is no answer. He runs around to the backyard, but no sign of you. He sits there thinking he got it wrong, when an idea hits him. He throws his bag on the porch and runs the block to the beach. As he comes to the small board walk he sees you sitting on the dune at the top of the beach. He walks down the boardwalk until he comes upon you.

You see something in your peripheral vision and turn to see Sebastian standing there. “Sebastian? What are you doing here?” you ask. He stands there panting, “I... I needed to make sure you were ok. I was worried,” he says.

You look at him and give him a small smile. You pat the sand next to you and he sits. You both look out over the beach and the ocean. You try and calm your pounding heart as you look over the horizon. He came for you. He came... for you.

--

Chapter 25 / Chapter 27

This does not mean they are getting back together so don’t hate on me. But we are almost to the end folks. This is not the end of Chase either. A decision will be made. Feedback is appreciated.

Permanent Taglist:  @hailmary-yramliah @tuiccim @comedictragedy @cap-n-stuff @thefridgeismybestie @swiftmind @aleaisntcreative @lookiamtrying @pinknerdpanda @morganclaire4 @iamvalentinaconstanza @verygraphicink @im-squished @joannie95 @peace-love-hobbitness @connie326 @arundhati1609 @amandamdiehl​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @its-izzys​ @roserose26​ @elegantobservationstudentsblog

Story Taglist: @5jacobm5​ @thejemersoninferno​ @adriannajackson​ @barikawho​ @uglipotata72829​ @coffeebooksandfandom​​ @collette04​​ @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo​​ @calwitch​​ @thatsbucknasty @mollygetssherlockcoffee ​ @awkward117​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms​

[writingsfromhome]

Bad Timing I(.5)

A/N: This is the sort of backstory to Harry and you, I think it can be read on its own if you want, or before you read the first part too. It’s angsty af, but it has some death and sensitive topics jsyk. I tried to keep it concise but it got a little wordy as angst does. xx

Part 1

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

About 12 Years Ago:

“So are you coming to that party or not?” My roommate asks. She was one of the first people I’d met last year when we started uni and even though we came from different backgrounds we remained friends over the last year, even choosing to room together again. She got me to open up and find the extroverted part of me that was able to enjoy uni outside of academics.

“Ugh, I’m volunteering for the voting booths for the rest of the week. Maybe if I can make it?”

“You’re actually doing that?” She scrunches her nose. “I don’t get it. You’re just way too nerdy to be my friend.”

“And yet you loove me,” I squeeze her against me and she laughs. “It’s my mom, she said I had to do at least one extracurricular so I could meet friends this year.”

“You already have friends,” she points to herself, and with her came her group of friends that’d quickly taken me in last year.

And my mom doesn’t like that I hang out with you, I think. She thought we partied too much even though my grades stayed decent. “She wants me to have nerdy friends too, I dunno. They’re helping me pay my tuition until I get a job so I kinda have to play nice.”

“Parents suck,” my roommate flicks through her closet. I agreed, this was just something I would get through to get through. Then they would leave me alone for the rest of the year.

Little did I know the person they’d partner me with at my polling station was someone who would be in my life for the next decade.

“I’m Harry by the way,” he’d said after we received our orientation and assigned the building we were going to babysit the votes in. “Second year.”

“Me too! I’m Y/N. What’s your major? I’ve never seen you around.”

“Law--well I haven’t decided if it’s law but that’s what I’m in right now.”

“Really? Law?” I was openly judging, he just didn’t seem the law type.

“Well what are you in?” He demands.

“Business,” I cringe.

“Really? Business?” He has a cheeky smile on, one that would become familiar to me.

“Well, you just don’t seem like the law type. They’re usually more uptight, dress way too smart for me.”

“I know, it’s like, we’re not even in the courtroom yet,” he joins in and it makes me laugh--how he could poke fun at his own people. That’s when I knew we would get along fine, and I actually looked forward to the next few days getting to know him better.

“I’m definitely telling my mum about you, she’s been begging me to make friends outside of my circle. I’ll tell her I’m friends with a law student.”

“So we’re friends already?” We’d reached our booth and began setting up the partitions. He takes over when I set it up wrong.

“Obviously,” I say. “I actually like you which means you’ll have a hard time getting rid of me.”

“I’m alright with that,” he grins and I notice the laugh lines that are brought to life as he does. It somehow made him seem more genuinely.

We spend the rest of the time swapping stories, classes, rants. We check student IDs and hand out voting cards in between but it doesn’t feel like a drag anymore. At the end of the day, I invite him to the party my roommate was going to with our friends. If he was going, maybe I would too. He seemed like he might be fun at a party.

“Er,” he suddenly seems nervous. “I’ll have to ask my girlfriend, she wanted to hang out tonight.”

“Well bring her too!” I say excitedly. “Is she law as well?”

“No, she’s in the arts.”

“I like her already,” I push. “Bring her, my friends are fun you’ll learn how to have a good time.”

“I know how to have a good time,” there was the flash of his dimples again. “Text me the address.”

And thus began a friendship for the next four years, partying together, studying together (trying to), and hanging out in each other’s rooms. We would set each other up with other friends, double dated, went out for sunrise-hikes, and took long drives at night when we had to blow some steam off from being over-stressed, over-studied uni students. Our friend circles overlapped, the fabric of our lives eventually bleeding together. We were made of the same fibers, sticking together even after uni, when our friends got more serious about their careers. When they moved out of the country or to another city, we made sure to rent places close enough that we could still see each other often. And somehow, in the new chapter of our lives, without the partying and our other friends to buffer, we became closer than before.

We cared for each other--we didn’t deny that ever. And somehow that platonic love turned romantic as we depended on each other while we navigated adulthood. I can’t exactly pinpoint where things changed, but one evening our relationship was changed forever.

7 years ago:

“She literally wants me to stay until 7, and she was offended when I said no! I’m not even getting paid for that!” I was bitching to Harry about my shitty job.

“That’s bollocks” Harry shrugs. “Just say you’ve got family obligations or something.”

“I said that the one time she wanted us to come in on a weekend and she gave me shite work the following week! I just...I can’t afford to lose this job Harry.”

“That’s shitty, I’m sorry.” He takes the last swig of his beer. “Want another one?”

“I haven’t even finished this one,” I moan at my now warm beer that I’d been nursing for the last hour, too busy ranting to drink it. “It’s getting late though I should head home before it’s dark. Don’t want that nutter that hangs around my building to harass me again.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Harry suggests. He lived a 15 minute walk from me.

“No no,” I get up and take our dirty dishes to the sink. “I didn’t even ask about you, how was your day?”

“Same old,” he sighs against the counter. “I feel like I don’t fit in, everyone my age is finishing their law degree but I don’t think I want to.”

“I knew from the day I met you, you weren’t destined for the courtroom.” I pull him into a comforting hug. “Do what makes you happy, or what doesn’t make you want to say fuck it and quit your job to hibernate.”

“You really know the perfect thing to say,” Harry chuckles but he pulls me tighter against him. I stroke his back, reassuring him he’d be alright in the end.

“Y/N-” he pulls away to say something but freezes mid sentence. I raise an eyebrow but he’s still, staring at my face.

“Harry?” I ask, but he continues staring. “Hello? You alright?”

“Yeah,” he breaks into a sudden smile. That was weird--I make sure he’s okay before letting go.

Before I leave, I kiss Harry’s cheek goodbye--I was never shy in the affection I gave my friends and Harry’s bummed mood needed extra affection tonight. But what I don’t expect is for him to catch me before I pull away, staring intently into my eyes. The lighthearted energy between us disappears instantly as it dawns on me, how close we were, the unspoken feelings in his eyes, the hesitation before he presses his lips to mine.

I kissed him back then, barely understanding what was happening, before pulling away. I give him a smile but that’s just what he sees at the tip of the iceberg, underneath my mixed feelings churn away. My best friend just kissed me, and I wasn’t totally mad about it.

“It’s getting dark I-” I say as Harry says, “Sorry was that okay?”

We laugh awkwardly, neither of us sure what to do at this point. We decide to ignore it instead.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Harry lets me go and opens the door for me. “Watch out for the neighbourhood nutter yea?”

I stand in place, feeling the fibers of our friendship unraveling but feeling hopeless in mending the tear. “Take care Harry.”

I high tail it out, my thoughts going at an impossible rate as I sort out what happened. And we try to ignore it the next couple weeks,

We hadn’t made it official then, too nervous to face what this meant about our friendships. It was only at my sister’s wedding, that I realised what was wrong between us. I’d been mourning our old friendship, and avoiding him in the weeks since the kiss. But what I didn’t realise was that our friendship had been changing over the last year anyway, and getting drunk on champagne and dancing with Harry, while my sister celebrated the happiest day of her life, made me realise there was a cause for celebration here: a new chapter in our lives.

A couple days later, after a stressful day at work, I’d taken the tube to his flat and waited for him outside. He was surprised to see me there, not saying much except to open the door and let me in. As soon as he’d closed it, my lips were attached to his and we’d let our bags drop, coats, and any piece of clothing between us. After that night, we didn’t even try to deny how we felt about each other.

“I didn’t think I could ever be this happy,” he’s whispered to me after. I thought he’d fallen asleep but his whisper in the dark made me grin to myself. “Are you awake.”

“I am. Awake and happy.” I turn to face him, giggling. “Who knew this could feel so right.”

“Our first kiss was quite wrong though wasn’t it?” Harry says and it makes me laugh.

“That’s why I needed to do a redo,” I tease. “Can’t leave you to plan anything.”

“It wasn’t planned I swear, I was trying to be spontaneous.”

“Let’s not try ‘spontaneous’ again then,” I kiss him in the dark. He pulls me snug against him, I never knew how safe it felt. The safest I would ever feel, wrapped in the warmth with my best friend and now something else.

It was a good few months, testing the waters as our relationship underwent a transformation. All of our friends were supportive, but we never missed the glances between them. Apparently, they were waiting for this to happen. But as sweet as those first few months had been, finding out my mum was sick with a timeline was devastating. I came apart at the seams but Harry stayed through it all, holding me together. He’d proposed then, wanting my mum to be part of the ceremony. We had a small wedding, intimate but still magical. It was bittersweet, the amount of love and happiness I felt towards Harry and our loved ones around us as he said I do and as he took my arm and swept me across the dancefloor. But the amount of sadness crushing my chest kept me from being the weightless bride I always thought I would be.

Through it all, Harry stayed by my side. While we were hopeful, the day our hopes were dashed, the days and weeks I mourned. When my sister and her husband came to stay with their crazy toddlers and Harry kept them entertained giving my sister and I time together. I thought he was perfect, that I’d lucked out.

That lasted a few years, 3 and a half to be exact. There were months leading up to our split and we could point to a bunch of things that could’ve led to it. a) him wanting kids, and me wanting to wait or b) long hours we worked as we changed careers and tried to make our way up or c) how hard getting pregnant actually was. Maybe I pushed him away, or he didn’t love me enough to try and make it work.

I think I lied to myself, avoiding the tension creeping into the relationship. The tired excuses and time spent apart, the lack of usual affection, or casual conversations. I was an idiot, I realise every time I think about the end in retrospect. Maybe if I caught on earlier I could have fixed us before we fell apart. Maybe I could have saved us.

“There’s someone coming in Tuesday morning to fix the broken washer, will you be home?” I ask, still in bed and scrolling through my phone. I hadn’t meant to be up this early but Harry woke me as he got up and I couldn’t fall back asleep.

“No,” Harry responds, his back to me as he ruffles through the dresser. “I’ve got a thing that morning.”

“Well I’ve got to go in early Tuesday-I thought you might be home.” I say. I hear an edge to Harry’s voice but I try not to focus on it. He’d been a little cold all weekend and I was scared to think what it meant.

“You couldn’t be bothered to check in when you confirmed the date?” Harry asks harshly.

“I...guess not.” I put my phone down and wait for Harry to turn, maybe I could read his expression. Maybe he was stressed. “Harry?”

“What?” He turns, but he looks at me with no emotion. No stress, no frustration, not even anger. It’s the lack of emotion in his face that cause my eyes to prick with tears. Harry raises his eyebrows and I shake my head, untangling myself from the sheets so he doesn’t see any tears. I rush to the bathroom but forget to close the door out of habit.

“Y/N,” a kinder Harry appears by the doorway. His face has smoothed out the harsh lines, his eyes hesitant and cautious.

“What’s happened with us?” I blurt out. “Why are you so cold all the time? Am I doing something wrong?”

Harry’s face falls and he walks towards me but doesn’t touch me. “It’s nothing like that. It’s...I don’t know. We should talk.”

He reaches his hand out but I flinch away. “Did you meet somebody new or something? What are we talking about?”

“Let’s not do this here. Right now.”

“Why not!” I finally had enough. “I’ve been walking on eggshells for months Harry! I don’t know what’s wrong and I keep waiting for you to bloody tell me!”

“This isn’t working!” Harry raises his voice to compensate for mine. I’m immediately silenced by the volume, and then the words sink in.

“Is there someone else?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer, his gaze on the hanging vines by the window. My heart drops into my stomach like a boulder, and I find it hard to breathe. I clutch the porcelain sink and ask in a surprisingly even tone, “Harry. Answer me.”

“What we have, Y/N...it’s dysfunctional.” He says quietly, meeting my eyes. “It doesn’t matter if there’s someone else, we’ve been fighting for months. Things aren’t the same between us-”

“Who is she?” I ask. I needed to know.

“That’s not relevant,” he shuts my question down quickly. “I’m sorry Y/N, I...I don’t want to hurt you. I care about you, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t,” I’d pleaded. “We can go to counseling, talk it through-”

“I can’t Y/N.”

“Because of her.”

“No, because this isn’t good for either of us.” He’d walked up to me, cradled my face. “We’re not good for each other, not like this.”

“Who is she?” I yank his hands away.

“She’s...it doesn’t matter, I swear nothing happened between us Y/N. Knowing who she is isn’t going to help this situation--”

“It is! If it weren’t for her, you’d be willing to work on us--to see a future. You...Harry how could you do this to me? To us?” The tears come with no control. “You’re moving on before we’re even over. How are you giving up on us like that?”

“I’m not!” his voice booms in the tiled bathroom. “I’m not bloody giving up on us! I tried Y/N, so many times. I tried! You just keep pushing at me to be someone I’m not and-”

“I can say the same thing about you!” I throw the brush in my hands into the sink. “We were good! And you got it in your head you wanted a baby even though we’re young, oh my god Harry you kept pestering me to change my mind even though I told you I needed time!”

“It’s not like we could have a fucking baby anyway,” Harry says bitterly before realising what he’d said. “Shit-”

“There you go,” I mock. “I knew it. I knew you were holding that against me. And that,” I jab my finger into his chest. “Is what’s made you so moody, so mean and why we’re always fighting. You held it against me.”.

There was absolute truth to what I said. Last year, Harry had brought the baby topic up. I’d told him we were only in our mid-20s, we had a lot of time, and we still had a career to establish. But he would bring up the topic often enough that I’d given in.To make him happy. And months went by, trying for a baby. Went we finally went to our doctor, she’d told us why it was so hard, it could take us years she’d said.

Harry came home that day dejected, and left me feeling like a failure. I think it tore us up.

“You wanted a baby so fucking bad and when I couldn’t, it made me feel like a complete failure. And I told you that! And you did absolutely nothing to make me feel better. You held it against me, Harry! You didn’t even try to tell me it was okay.”

“It’s not so fucking simple,” he says, his cheeks flushed pink. Maybe it was anger, or maybe it was embarrassment from being confronted with an ugly truth.

“It is. And now you’ve upgraded to a newer model, maybe her version comes with a fertile womb.” I take the cheap shot.

He doesn’t say anything though. And I don’t know why that hurts more than knowing he’d fallen for another woman while he was still married to me. My best friend in the whole world had just broken my heart into a million irrevocable pieces.

“It’s a bunch of things Y/N,” he finally says. “That’s just part of it. We’re not...we’re just not working!”

“Did you even try to make it work?” I ask, swiping my sleeve across my face. “Did you ever think how I felt? How you made me feel Harry? You’ve been slipping away from me without talking to me-” I break off. I couldn’t speak through the heartbreak, the thunderstorm of grief threatens to consume me and my sobs are the only thing that manages to come out.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Harry tries to place a hand on my shoulder but I jerk away, moving to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “Y/N...”

“Just go,” I say through the tears.

“We can talk more about this later-”

"Just go,” I say louder.

Harry’s phone rings again from the bedroom and he sighs. But he leaves me, crying on the bathroom floor. The sadness that was always in my peripheral consumes me. I’d carried this sadness for a long time--ever since I found out my mum was sick, the sadness plagued me. I’d neatly packed it up once I decided to move forward with my life like my mum would want me to, but now it comes back tenfold, marrying the grief of losing Harry like this. And I stay on the floor crying my grief away for hours, eventually crawling into bed and sleeping the daylight away.

When I wake, it’s 6 and Harry isn’t home. I take that as a sign and get up to pack up a few things. I call my sister who still lived in London then, and crash on her couch, staying there for a few weeks and ignoring any call or text from Harry. When I need to go back, for my things, I find him sleeping on the couch with the TV on, something I always found endearing. But I can’t afford to dwell on how much it hurt seeing him like that.

He must have woken from the noise because when he finds me, he tries to stop me and tell me that we still needed to talk.

“About what?” I ask, just tired now. Too many tears shed and too many hours laying awake thinking about the exact moment we went wrong.

“Us,” Harry looked tired too. He was probably throwing himself into his work with nothing like me to hold him back, I think bitterly. His girlfriend had probably already been to our house--his house.

“What about us?” I barely look at him as I begin folding away all my clothes.

“I don’t know,” Harry sits on the bed. “Don’t you want to talk?”

“I’ve got nothing to say, do you?”

Harry sighs, “I don’t know.”

“Nice talk then,” I say, shoving the rest of my things in just so I could get out.

“I just want you to know I care about you Y/N, I don’t want to hurt you.” He says as I pack.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. If you cared about me, and you didn’t want to hurt me you wouldn’t have done this to us.”

“I wasn’t trying to--I didn’t mean to go and fall for someone else-”

“Just stop,” I cut him off. I couldn’t hear it, how the man I loved fell for someone else. I couldn’t break down here. Again.

He said he cared but it didn’t feel that way. It hurt more than I wished to admit. He knew what I’d been through and he still betrayed me, tossed my heart like it was replaceable. The cut he left in me ran deep.

As I leave he tries to talk to me, but I barrel past him. He still reaches for me and pulls me into a hug, I struggle against him but he’s too strong. He wraps me in his arms until I go still but it’s too much. A sob escapes me, and this time he lets me push him off and leave, my bag banging into my hips every time I take a step. As soon as I got into my Uber, I can’t stop crying. There was an infinite pool of tears where Harry was involved.

3 years ago:

My trust and my heart had been been lost in the war between Harry and I. It only took him a month to mail my divorce papers which sat collecting dust on my dining table until he showed up at work one day and demanded I sign them by the end of that week. I’d taken the day off the day I mailed those in, mourning the end of something that was once so safe and beautiful.

When a close friend calls me on a warm July afternoon, I don’t consider her warning that I shouldn’t check Instagram. That I still had Harry’s friends on my list. I open Instagram before she can tell me why, and see it. Harry was getting married, again. To the woman he gave up on us for. I try to zoom in on a picture without liking it, she was pretty...and blonde. She looked familiar--probably from his office. It didn’t take him long.

It was like someone had taken a retractor to the wound I thought had finally scabbed over. The physical proof that Harry had moved on is just the salt on the wound.

I cry myself to sleep that night.

2 Years ago;

The guy in front of me drones on about his job, mansplaining to me how a mortgage worked as if I wasn’t in finance myself. I excuse myself to use the restroom, checking my phone to see a text from my sister. She’d moved to Scotland this year, to where her husband was from, and I’d missed her terribly in the last year.

A little birdie told me your demon-ex just got divorced 🥂

I stare at the screen, chest feeling tight. I felt vindicated somehow, but I also felt a small bit of sadness. What a fuck-up.

Good for him I had texted back. A part of me wanted him to hurt the way he hurt me.

I went back to my date with a renewed enthusiasm. I’d ordered more wine and got so drunk he was actually interesting enough to take home.

About 1 year ago

“Y/N,” a voice from my past says, one that haunted me some nights. I turn as I exit the shop I was just in. I blink at the sight before me, Harry in a vest and hat. He realises what I’m staring at and laughs awkwardly. “I’m in uniform.”

“You’re...police?” I look up to his face finally. He hadn’t aged a day, although the hat he wears makes him look a little silly.

“Yeah I joined the force uhm...almost 4 years ago now...law didn’t really suit me.”

I know what he was doing, trying to find a baseline to have a conversation. But he was dead to me, and I didn’t want to invite him back in when I was finally forgetting about him.

"Seems like you dropped a lot of dead-weight four years ago.”

I watch his face fall as he realises I wasn’t going to pretend to be friendly.

“Seems that way to you,” he says cautiously. “But that’s not how it happened.”

I shrug. “So. I heard about the divorce. Must’ve been hard being put through that.”

I knew I was being petty, obviously I never got the closure I want (according to my therapist) and I wasn’t over him hurting me the way he did (also according to my therapist). This was how I got my peace, and it wasn’t the best version of me but it was the only one I knew how to be right now.

“Yep,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “So, are you seeing anyone?”

He knew I wasn’t, I don’t know how but the way he stoops to my level I know he knows I hadn’t had a long term relationship since him.

“Not at the moment,” I say awkwardly. “Just focusing on my job...trying to get this promotion.”

“Sorry,” he seems to shake off whatever had come over him. “That was...nosy, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Having him be the bigger person sets something off in me, like there was an anger-bomb inside my mind where he lived and knowing that he was doing okay enough to be able to be the bigger person disrupts this calm I was trying to keep.

“Maybe you shoudn’t have stopped me to ask anything at all. We don’t have anything to talk about anyway.”

I turn around and start to walk away but he catches up, “I wasn’t trying to upset you-”

“Well you have a way of doing that. Please just leave me alone Harry.”

He huffs beside me, “After all this time, can’t we just bloody talk like two adults?”

I freeze and turn to him slowly. He seems to sense this was the wrong thing to say because he takes a step back. “After all this time? Are you serious? I was the one you left behind Harry when you went off to lives your best lift Harry. We’re not living the same life, and we’re not coming from the same bloody place. Don’t fucking patronize me and ask me to talk to you like an adult when you bring out the worst part of me. I meant what I said: I want you to leave me alone. And you know what, if we ever run into each other again, just don’t even talk to me. Pretend you don’t know me. I want nothing to do with you.”

He opens his mouth but his partner calls him from the shop’s entrance. He stays silent, letting me go. As soon as I turn the street corner I rush the rest of the way to the tube, collapsing into a seat and trying to sort out my breathing. It was a shitty feeling, knowing someone was going to be in your life forever because you shared so much history that even when that part of your life ended they were still there. There was so much apart of me, around me, that reminded me of him. And it felt so lonely carrying that around. I wanted to be done with him, I wanted my heart to purge him out. But it couldn’t stop carrying him around everywhere I go.

[pendragonsandbuckleys]

Oh it felt so easy then.

My @malexsanta​ fic for @manesguerin​​, Merry Christmas Sarah!! ✨

This is the first time I’ve ever been given a prompt so I really hope I’ve done it justice. I’ve gone with the prompt ‘lost decade’ and as you may notice by the length of it, it kind of got away from me… but I really hope you like it!

[Also on AO3]

Summary: Ten years of letters filed away with such love and care into a decade old shoebox and what was it all for? 

A look at the lost decade through Michael’s eyes.

Word Count: 21,499

❄️👽🎄💌

Ten years was a long time.

Five hundred and twenty-one weeks to be filled with laughter and tears, friends and family, old secrets and new opportunities. 

Three thousand, six hundred and fifty days to get over a stupid high school crush that was never going to last.

Michael closed the door behind him, furious at the sudden emotions raging inside him. He hadn’t heard from Alex in a long time, hadn’t see him in even longer. So why was his heart racing at the mere sight of the man he once loved.

Glancing at the many whiteboards and notepads filled with scientific scribble and spaceship blueprints reminded Michael that there was so much more than just the thin wall of the airstream keeping them apart. They’d been kidding themselves to even try to make it work. They were two different people with two different lives.

His eyes wandered to the other end of the trailer. He should have thrown out the box long ago, burnt it even.

He had been so proud of the fact that he hadn’t looked inside in months, hadn’t given in to the temptation to see Alex’s delicate penmanship and carefully chosen words. He had most of the letters committed to memory, but re-reading them after a difficult day used to help calm the chaos in his mind.

It had been a long time since he’d forced himself to forget about the box and all it contained but one look at Alex and all the feelings he’d spent months suppressing had come flooding back. The feelings of hope and happiness. Of love.

He slowly walked towards the closet and crouched down to rummage through his belongings. There were a few things piled inside but right at the bottom was what he wanted.

A simple shoebox. The writing on the front was long worn away and the lid was practically falling apart but the box itself wasn’t important. He lifted the lid and a stale scent of roses immediately filled the air. His hand brushed the dried petals to the side before hesitating above the first envelope. 

Ten years of letters filed away with such love and care into a decade old shoebox and what was it all for?

September 2008

It started with the hubcaps.

Well, really, it all started seventy years ago when one innocent eyeliner wearing, music loving boy’s ancestors began a lifelong mission to destroy Michael’s family.

But those goddamn hubcaps. I mean, if he was going to steal anything from Kyle Valenti’s car it could have been something useful. His truck needed a new battery after all.

The thrill of the theft hadn’t quite overpowered the pain in his heart and a night in a cell, alone with his thoughts, definitely hadn’t helped the way he thought it would.

Ever since Alex had told him that he was enlisting, Michael had been acting weird around him. Getting into more and more fights, drinking and smoking and doing all he could to cause trouble, regardless of how much he could see it was hurting Alex.

And every time Alex begged him to get it together, Michael was reminded of the fact that the only person he had ever had feelings for would soon be leaving him. That Alex was choosing to leave him to follow in his father’s footsteps.

So he pushed Alex away. He got himself arrested all for the sake of self preservation which should have felt like a win but really all he had done was waste the last day he could have had with Alex.

It had been a few weeks since Alex had left for Texas for Basic Training and Michael hadn’t heard a single thing from him. Though he couldn’t blame him. Michael had made it very clear that their short lived relationship was over.

And maybe that’s really all it was meant to be. Maybe it was just some summer fling that meant nothing in the long run. Simply a way for two broken people to just breathe for five seconds.

And maybe it was stupid for him to believe it could have been anything more.

As he stared up at the starry night sky from the back of his truck he felt his phone vibrate inside his trouser pocket.

Another text from Isobel no doubt.

She had been trying to get in touch with him all evening. All week in fact. And he couldn’t be bothered to deal with it today.

After graduation she had been adamant that Michael wasn’t going to drift away from them. Not seeing each other just because they were no longer forced to share a classroom was not an option.

So she had taken to texting him. A lot. Mainly mundane things, little updates about her life like a job interview she’d managed to secure or a new boy she was possibly seeing. She’d always try to ask about what he was up to or encourage him to come over for dinner, but that was usually his cue to stop replying. A dead battery or no credit was his go to excuse but there’s no way she really believed him.

He just couldn’t face seeing her or Max, not yet. The horror of Rosa, Kate and Jasmine’s deaths and their decision to cover it up was still so fresh in his mind and any opportunity to not remember it was preferable. 

It was strange, thinking about it. That night was one of the worst nights of his life for two wildly different reasons.

A very personal, homophobic attack that left his hand crushed beyond repair and a triple murder that no one would ever know the real truth about. Not even the person responsible.

And while he just wanted to take his mind off the people involved in one of these for a little while, he never wanted to forget the person involved in the other.

He had no idea if he would ever see Alex again, but just hoped that he was okay. That he was happy. That he was safe. 

And that would have to be good enough for now.

November 2008

Michael’s truck jolted to a stop in the Wild Pony parking lot. 

It was earlier than he’d usually be here but the day drinking was a new thing he was trying. 

He’d been having regrets lately about not taking up the UNM scholarship. He was fully aware that he was more than smart enough to continue with his studies and yeah maybe the courses would be far more mundane than he’d like, but at least he could do something worthy with this life. But then every time he considered re-thinking his decision, his hopes were brought crashing back down to earth with the reminder of why he didn’t go to university in the first place.

He had slowly begun letting Max and Isobel back into his life, a coffee date here and a shopping trip there, but sometimes all the friendly conversations in the world couldn’t stop his desire to just be numb every now and then.

The excessive alcohol consumption was a recent development, but hey, a town drunk has to start at some point, right?

There was a clerk at a gas station a few miles away that had no problems turning a blind eye to his clean shaven baby face and he’d managed to get a fake ID for the more difficult purchases. Such as the Wild Pony. A typical Roswell bar without the added green alien decor. Every local knew the Wild Pony and unfortunately the Wild Pony knew him - or more importantly, his age.

Maybe he’d get lucky today and it would be a new bar tender but if not, then he’d just slip some acetone into a soft drink. That would have to do the trick for now.

It was mid afternoon so there was a decent amount of people inside, but no sign of the rowdy drunks that tended to emerge after dark. The only person working behind the bar was currently wiping down the surfaces as a pair of customers walked away with their drinks.

Michael swaggered confidently past the men at the pool table and the group of girls in the booth that he vaguely recognised from school and perched on one of the stools at the bar. “I’ll have whatever’s cheapest.”

“You got ID?” The bar tender gave him a look that just screamed I don’t have time for your bullshit, but Michael was nothing if not persistent. She walked over, arms folded neatly across her chest, cloth still gripped in one hand, and came to a stop in front of him.

The badge pinned to her denim jacket spelled out her name in thick capital letters but Michael didn’t need to read it. Everyone knew who Maria Deluca was. With her beautiful curls and disarming smile, she was a friend to almost everyone at New Roswell High.

And though she was one of Alex’s oldest friends, Michael had barely said two words to her during their many years walking the same school halls but right now she was his best chance at scoring a drink.

“C’mon Deluca, we don’t have to bother with all that.” He mustered up as much charm as he could manage as he leant forward on the bar but Maria wasn’t swayed, her face set in a clear display of annoyance.

“I told you last time, I’m not getting fired just to help fuel these little angsty life choices you’ve been making recently.”

“Your mom’s not gonna fire you for helping a friend.”

“Oh wow,” Her eyes widened, feigning surprise, “Sorry I wasn’t aware we’d become friends.”

“Well,” Michael shrugged, “Every time I come in, it’s like you’re here waiting for me, so I just thought…” 

“I’m stuck this side of the bar Guerin. I have no choice but to put up with whatever you think is going on right now.”

Michael sniggered as he raised an eyebrow. The chances of him getting drunk anytime soon were dwindling by the second but he was enjoying the banter nonetheless.

“One day. One day I’ll get you to admit how much you love seeing me.”

Maria rolled her eyes as she flipped the cloth over one shoulder. “I am glad you’re here actually.”

“Really?” 

“Yes. It means I don’t have to spend my time trying to track you down.” She rummaged through a bag sitting behind the bar before pulling out an envelope. “Someone clearly knows you well.”

Michael took it from her with a frown. One quick glance at the front confirmed that it was indeed labelled to him, only with the Wild Pony’s address neatly scripted underneath his name.

Who would be sending him a letter? Who even sent letters anymore?

He looked up to ask Maria when it had arrived but she’d already made her way over to the customers at the other end of the bar.

Without hesitation he carefully ripped it open and pulled out the piece of paper inside. Impatient as ever, his eyes immediately darted to the end of the page to see who it was from and he almost fell off the chair at the name signed at the bottom.

It had been four months since he’d seen Alex. Four month since he’d heard his beautiful voice or seen his perfect face. And yet here, in his hands, was a letter from the one person he honestly thought he’d never hear from again.

Someone on a nearby table cheered loudly and Michael was suddenly reminded of where he was. It didn’t feel right, reading Alex’s first words to him in months under the harsh neon lights of the bar so without sparing a second glance at Maria, he practically sprinted all the way to the parking lot, yanking the door open as soon as he reached his truck.

Taking a deep breath, he unfolded the paper and began reading.

Dear Michael,

I’ve debated writing this letter for a while now, mainly because of how we left things. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to keep in contact but I’ve been missing some people back in Roswell and I think I just needed to get a few things out of my head. I might not even send this letter, but if you’re reading this then I guess it means my sentimentality won out.

I’ve been thinking about how peaceful the desert is back home. How quiet it would be when we’d park the truck in the middle of nowhere and just lie under the sun for hours. It’s surprising the things you notice yourself missing when you haven’t been somewhere in a while.

There’s so many people here it feels like school all over again. I tried to distance myself from everyone in some last act of defiance, but I’ve ended up making a few friends. Honestly I think it would be impossible to get through this alone.

I’ve finished basic training now. It was harder than I thought it was going to be but I got through it and I’m onto the next phase. We get to choose the specialism ourselves so at least that’s a positive and who knows, maybe I’ll be quite good at it.

I’m going to be here for a least a few months to complete my training before I find out where I’m being assigned so I’ve included my address incase you want to write back.

Whatever it is that you decided to do with your life, I hope you’re okay.

From,

Alex.

P.S. I’m sorry for sending this to the Wild Pony, I hope Maria got it to you okay. I would have addressed it to ‘Michael Guerin’s Truck’, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t quite reach you.

Michael re-read the letter another three times before he could bear to take his eyes off the page.

Alex had written to him. Amongst all the training and hard work and confusion over how they’d parted, Alex had taken the time to sit down and write to him. 

It was brief and simple and Michael couldn’t stop smiling.

He fumbled trying to get his keys in the ignition before putting the truck in gear, already planning his reply, all desire to get drunk suddenly forgotten.

February 2009

“I don’t pay you to sit around doodling.” Sanders called over gruffly from under the hood of the car he was working on.

“I’ve already finished with Campbell’s jeep.” Michael replied distractedly as he continued to scribble in the notepad.

The repair had needed longer than he had expected so he was taking what he deemed as a well earned break. If the old man had a problem with it then he could go ahead and find a better mechanic. Michael didn’t earn nearly enough to put up with his attitude anyway.

Sitting under the barely put together shelter that Sanders had the audacity to call his workshop, Michael started to scrawl a reply to Alex. Letter number four had arrived just under a week ago and he had yet to come up with a response.

Again addressed to the Wild Pony, Alex had talked about the latest shenanigans of his fellow airmen and how he’d been missing his guitar lately. He never went into detail about the work he was doing but he always made sure to mention that it was going well. Michael could practically visualise him picking out the words very carefully to make sure it didn’t sound like he was boasting, but sometimes it made writing a reply hard.

He was so pleased for Alex. Every letter he received had a more and more happier tone to it and honestly, he was glad that Alex was finding his place in the Air Force. He will always hate that he signed up, but considering he was going to be a part of it for a long time, Michael was just relieved that he had settled in. 

It did mean, however, that his life felt very boring in comparison. What was he supposed to say? Hey Alex, I fixed another car today. I’ll probably be hanging out with Isobel later to spend hours listening to her moan about something before going to sleep in my truck and doing it all again tomorrow.

He was just about to jot something down when something small and hard bounced off his forehead.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” Michael rubbed his head and glared at the man.

“Are you listening to me?” Sanders waved the wrench in his hand as he tried to punctuate his point.

“Obviously.”

“What did I say?”

“…words?” Michael replied innocently, throwing his hands up in defeat when Sanders looked ready to throw something else. “Alright, alright sorry, what did you want?”

“The Johnson's SUV needs its engine looking at and when you’re done with that you can change the brake pads on that pickup that came in this morning.”

“On it.” Michael gave a halfhearted salute as he grabbed the closest toolbox and headed out into the sun.

He wasn’t really in the mood to be working in the heat today but at least this way the vehicles were far enough away from Sanders that he wouldn’t have any distractions from his real task.

He’d been grabbing odd shifts at the junkyard since he was fourteen, but last month he’d finally persuaded Sanders to hire him properly. If he was to have any hope of moving out of his truck, he needed to start earning some proper money doing something he was half decent at.

He’d been trying to find a way to work this news into his letter but he couldn’t quite find the words. He didn’t want to admit to himself that it was because he was ashamed, but that’s exactly what it was. Alex was at the start of a prestigious career that would take him across the world, learning new skills and earning decent money.

Michael was a mechanic. Barely.

And he knew that Alex wouldn’t care about the difference in their jobs, he’d just be happy that Michael was a step above wasting his life. It was just so hard to fit everything he really wanted to say into one letter.

Maybe he was struggling so much with the words because he’d much rather say it in person. He hadn’t seen Alex in forever and he missed the simple act of just being with him. Of sitting in the back of the truck, shoulders touching and hands intertwined. The amount of serotonin a short handwritten note could produce was ridiculous but it in no way replaced the feel of having the real thing in front of him.

Though if Alex was feeling anything near the way he was, then maybe it didn’t matter what he wrote. The mere fact that he had replied would hopefully be enough.

April 2009

Isobel looked at him disapprovingly, switching her many bags from one hand to the other. “Really Michael? Just because you live in the desert doesn’t mean you need to actually start dressing like a cowboy.”

A shopping trip with Isobel wasn’t Michael’s first choice for a Saturday afternoon, but he’d had no good excuse to refuse as she practically dragged him to the mall.

For someone who liked to try on almost everything in a single store, Isobel had chosen what she wanted to buy pretty quickly. Now it was Michael’s turn but he honestly wasn’t sure what she expected of him. He’d been living in the same clothes for years now, he didn’t know how to do the whole shopping spree thing.

“You’re the one who wanted to buy me new clothes.”

“Yeah, because I wanted to make you look cool. Not like a nineteen year old version of the Lone Ranger.”

Michael looked in the mirror again. The black cowboy hat resting atop his head was working well with the rancher aesthetic he had going on. It hid his curls and made him look slightly older, giving him more of an edge than his baseball cap could usually muster. 

It just felt right. 

Growing up, he’d never had the chance to really figure out his own identity besides angry, rebellious orphan and going full-on cowboy felt like a good place to start. 

Besides, he looked damn good.

“You’ve already chosen the rest of my wardrobe for me Isobel. You can’t let me make one big boy decision for myself?” Michael gave her a pointed looked as he took the hat off and ran a hand through his hair.

“Fine. Just don’t show Max, he’s already started a godawful belt buckle collection, I don’t want him getting any ideas.” She happily snatched it out of his hand and strutted elegantly to the till.

He had missed these moments with Isobel. The familial feeling of her bossing him around.

No one ever talked about how easy it was to drift apart from people after high school, how the close bonds you thought you’d formed over the lunch table could so quickly disappear once you’re all thrown into the real world.

But the three of them were different. Michael, Max and Isobel, the three children found wandering the desert all those years ago. He hadn’t been able to rid himself of them then and turns out he still couldn’t now. Despite his best efforts to distance himself, they had managed to completely worm their way back into his life over the past few months and honestly he was better off for it.

Today wasn’t the first weekend outing he’d endured and it definitely wouldn’t be the last, but his heart felt a little lighter from having spent it in good company. With the bags heavy in their hands, they grabbed some food at a nearby burger place before calling it a day. He dropped Isobel home and drove to his usual night-time parking spot.

Climbing effortlessly onto the back of the truck, he looked inside the singular bag Isobel had gifted him. He’d come away with a new pair of boots, a few t-shirts and the cowboy hat. Nowhere near enough in Isobel’s opinion but after the reminder that he didn’t exactly have a closet right now she had conceded.

He shoved the bag into the corner and leant forward to pulled out the letter that had been burning a hole in his back pocket all day. He grimaced at the sight of it, with its crease down the middle and its crumpled edges. Isobel had ambushed him coming out of the Wild Pony before he’d had a chance to read it - or put it away - which meant it had been hidden in the only place available at the time.

As much as he loved her, he wasn’t quite ready to share it with her yet.

He unrolled his blanket and threw it around his shoulders, settling back against the truck before opening the envelope. He’d finally told Alex about the junkyard in his last letter and he’d been waiting to hear back for a few weeks now.

Dear Michael,

That’s amazing news about the job! You really are the best mechanic in the whole of Roswell so Sanders is lucky to have you.

You shouldn’t put yourself down though. You used to always be fixing things when I was back home (annoyingly effortlessly from what I remember) so to get paid for doing something you enjoy is kind of the dream, right?

Plus I’m sure the drivers of Roswell will be very grateful to have someone with two eyes checking their brakes are working correctly. I mean, should Sanders even be fixing cars anymore? I swear he can’t even see three inches in front of his face!

Speaking of work, I was thinking about the Emporium yesterday. Have you been inside recently? I wonder if they ever noticed the alien with its head on backwards. Still definitely your fault by the way.

I kind of miss that uniform too, even the visor. I have to wear my uniform all the time now and it’s nowhere near as comfortable. I feel like it’s becoming a part of me, like I’m never going to be able to go home after a long day and forget about everything for a while, it’s just always going to be there.

I’m sure I’ll get used it.

I think we’re being moved in a couple of weeks so I’ll give you my new address when that happens. But for now, I hope you’re okay.

Speak to you soon,

Alex.

Michael leant his head back and watched as the sun slowly began to set behind the trees.

Alex always knew how to make him feel a million different emotions at once. He felt an unfamiliar sense of pride at the praise Alex had offered but reading the boy’s words about his own work made Michael long to have him back with him, away from all the regimented days and looming risk of danger.

He couldn’t stop himself from grinning though, thinking back to the alien statue standing in the corner of the crop circle exhibit. That had been a good day. And yeah, it was definitely his fault.

He was about to put this latest letter away with the rest when an idea came to him. He grabbed the bag that Isobel had lovingly handed over and pulled out the shoebox that had been squeezed inside amongst the various clothes.

He ran his nail across the tape keeping the box sealed, breaking it easily in a single movement, and took off the lid.

He pulled out the new boots, followed by the scrunched up tissue paper intended to keep them somewhat preserved, until he was left with an empty box. It was a decent size, not too big that it would be a pain to store under the passenger seat and not too small that he would run out of space anytime soon.

He’d been keeping the letters in his glove compartment for now but it didn’t quite feel safe enough for something so precious. But this shoebox was perfect. 

He placed the letter inside before heading to the front of the truck and retrieving the rest, slotting them in neatly and closing the lid to keep them secure.

Tonight he’d sleep thinking about the last day he and Alex had shared in the UFO Emporium and as soon as the sun was up, he’d write his reply.

July 2009

Dear Alex,

You’ll never guess what happened today.

I’ve been working every shift Sanders will give me just to save up some cash and like some crazy act of luck an old airstream got dumped at the junkyard last week. It took some convincing but Sanders actually let me buy it off him!

It’s small and pretty run down but I figured it could be a fun project. I am very good with my hands, as you know.

It’s not as glamorous as a house or anything like that, but at least this way I can move out of my truck and into a place with an actual sink. Plus, I reckon I’m the smart one here. No rent to pay? Less space to clean? It’s perfect.

Do you think you’ll be able to visit Roswell soon? You’re probably working hard, getting your geek on and saving the world, but it’s been a while. A year actually, next month.

No pressure, but I look forward to the day I get to officially invite you inside my new place.

Stay safe out there.

Michael

Michael careful wrote his new address on the back, then sealed the envelope and left it by the door as a reminder to post the next time he was in town.

He hadn’t even started to unpack yet, his first priority being to share his big news. He figured that’s what he would have wanted to do if Alex was in Roswell anyway.

The airstream had been dumped a few days ago and though Michael wasn’t aware how much Sanders had paid the guy for it, he was pretty sure it must have cost more for Sanders than it had for Michael. Which was strange.

Since spending almost every day with Sanders, they had definitely worked up some form of workplace bond to some extent. Although some days, it was a wonder Michael could be bothered to engage in the conversations that were mainly a mix of complaints or disinterested grunts.

He must be rubbing off on the old man though because he had given away the airstream at a bargain.

As soon as he’d agreed it with Old Man Simmons that he could park it at Foster Ranch - along with the offer of earning his keep by working the land - he had brought all of his belongings inside and now the next task was to find a place for everything. There may not be much in the three boxes currently sitting on the bed, but they were his. They were the few things that he had been able to actually buy for himself over the past few years and really call his own.

And now that he had a home to put them in, he wanted to do it perfectly.

It felt bizarre to think about. His home. A place he could finally call his own. A place to cook and wash and sleep, safe from the cold and desert dust. The group homes and fosters parents of the past had never let him decorate his own space but now he had the opportunity to make everything his own.

And he knew exactly where to start. The clothes would go in the closet and the limited toiletries would be given their place in the bathroom. That was all obvious, another decision made for him.

But something he could choose for himself?

He picked up the shoebox and peaked inside. It had gained a few more letters since he had started filling it and they were all piled neatly in order.

Looking around, there were several places it could sit.

On the desk would make it the first thing he’d see coming home. But would therefore be the first thing Isobel and Max would go snooping through when they visited.

The drawers next to the closet would keep it safe but they were just too small for the box.

The closet itself felt too impersonal. Like he was hiding it away from himself as well as everyone else.

His eyes were drawn to the bed - his mind instantly jumping to the thought of him and Alex sharing it together - and then to the overhead compartment above it.

Lifting the latch, it popped open with a click and when Michael slid the box in, it fit perfectly. Safe, sealed and close to him where he would sleep.

Feeling happy about the very important decision, he closed the compartment.

Now, onto the rest.

November 2009

It had been a very quiet morning.

Sanders was away for a few days and he’d banned Michael from working in the junkyard without supervision after a recent accident that had pissed him off. He hadn’t meant for the hammer to hit the window of the Davis’ land rover, honest. He’d been aiming for the toolbox.

He’d get the old man to change his mind soon enough, but in the meantime what better place to spend the morning than in bed.

The recently bought sheets were soft against his bare chest as he stared up at the ceiling. The box was still tucked away in the cupboard above him, taken out frequently with every new visit from the mailman. It’s not like anyone else ever sent him post.

Alex had been getting very sappy in his letters recently, reminiscing about the previous summer. Though compared to the past year of writing, the days they had actually spent in each other’s company were few and far between.

It was practically the end of the school year when Michael had borrowed Alex’s guitar from the music room. A decision which he would never regret. And though they had barely spoken during their many years at the same school, when Alex had offered him shelter it hadn’t really mattered. They had clicked so instantly that the few months that they did manage to share felt like they spanned an eternity.

A lot of bad things happened that summer, but he’d do anything to go back just to relieve those good days again.

A knock at the door interrupted his daydream. He sat up, confused, and tried to peak through the newspaper taped to the window. He wasn’t expecting visitors and he couldn’t quite make out enough of the shape to work out who it was.

He rolled sleepily out of bed and grabbed yesterday’s pants, hopping the short distance to the door as he tried to yank them up.

Pushing the door open revealed a sight that had Michael’s breath catching in his throat.

The boy in front of him looked different. Gone was the dark eyeliner that used to frame his eyes and the nail varnish that would stand out against his skin. No more septum piercing or earring, and the chain that Michael would play with as they kissed was missing from his neck.

His hair was much shorter and so not him.

But he was here.

Alex was here. Standing in front of him. And Michael hadn’t said anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything? It was like his brain had short-circuited at the mere sight of the one person he’d been longing to see.

“Hi.” Alex nervously broke the silence, playing with the zip of his hoodie between his thumb and forefinger. “I hope you don’t mind me showing up like this.”

Mind? Did Alex really just ask that? He’d been dreaming of this moment for months now.

He also didn’t really know how to put that into words in his current state of shock, so he did the next best thing. He stepped down onto the dry ground and immediately pulled Alex into his arms. 

Alex took all of a second to reciprocate the hug as he melted against Michael’s chest.

It was cold outside, winter drawing to its peak and showing its first signs of snow, but being in Alex’s arms was the warmest he had felt in a while.

“You’re here.” Michael mumbled against Alex’s shoulder and he felt him chuckle.

“Well, I have a few days leave and I was promised an invite.” Alex replied softly.

Oh god. This was it, the official house warming personally tailored to Alex. And everything was a mess. Turns out getting a new place doesn’t stop old habits from taking hold and barely a week after he moved in there was paperwork all over the desk and clothes strewn across the bathroom floor. It hadn’t exactly gotten better since then.

Michael reluctantly broke the hug, bringing his hands down to gently link with Alex’s.

“It’s a bit of a mess.” He muttered playfully causing Alex to giggle, the enormity of the moment getting too much for him.

“I don’t mind.” 

Nodding to himself, Michael turned and led Alex into the airstream, waiting for the boy to close the door behind him before he spoke. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s…” Alex hesitated, glancing around at the cluttered desk and the half opened drawers and Michael felt so embarrassed. It looked so much worse than he remembered it being before he opened the door two minutes ago.

“I know it’s not much.” He offered grudgingly.

“No it’s…very you.” Alex said, smiling widely as he stepped closer. “I really like it.”

Really? Michael was going to ask. But it only took one look to get lost in Alex’s eyes and all words were suddenly forgotten.

Alex took another step to close the gap between them and slowly leant forward, his eyes not leaving Michael’s lips. Talking could come later, this is what they had really been missing.

It’s their smiles that touched first, excitement rushing through them making them giddy. But then as Michael’s lips parted and Alex leaned closer, it was as though time stood still. They had been waiting for this moment, longing for it for months.

Michael’s stomach fluttered at the familiar feeling of Alex’s hair under his fingertips, the soft lips against his own. He could practically feel Alex reflecting back at him every feeling of want and desperation that had occurred with every new letter and he had to half open his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

However long Alex was home for, Michael planned to make the most of every single second.

May 2010

Michael took another swig of beer as he watched the last rays of light disappear beyond the horizon. He had driven out into the desert hours ago with the strong desire to get so blackout drunk he wouldn’t be able to remember his own name.

He couldn’t do it at the Wild Pony with its many prying eyes and the airstream just felt too small tonight.  So instead, he had parked the truck at a spot that he and Alex used to frequent when they had wanted to be alone.

Alex had taken longer than usual to reply, but Michael understood - between the two of them, Alex’s duty to Uncle Sam would have to take precedence. It just made the warmth that each letter provided that much stronger.

But today’s letter was different and all the wrong feelings had taken root. Fear, sadness, loss. They were swirling around his mind and sitting on his chest and no amount of alcohol seemed to banish them.

Because for the first time since they had begun writing, the return address on the envelope had not read United States, but Afghanistan.

Michael had barely registered Alex’s words during the first read through with his imagination going into overdrive, but taking a deep breath he had sat on the bed and forced himself to focus.

I can’t really give you any details, Alex had said.

I’ll be okay, he was brave enough to promise.

But he couldn’t promise that. Not really. Michael had done his research over the past two years, frantically gathering every measly scrap of information that the search engine could offer. He had seen the number of deaths to come out of every combat zone, read the stories of those whose lives would never be the same again and had the nightmares of every worst possible outcome.

The Air Force doesn’t deploy as long as the Army, but every second that Alex was on war-torn soil increased the risk of him not making it home. It was going to happen at some point, Alex’s first overseas deployment. Michael had just really been hoping for Spain or Turkey. Not this.

He had convinced himself that he would be prepared. That he would be rational and calm and wouldn’t jump to conclusions or freak out. Clearly he was better at lying to himself than he realised.

He didn’t know why he was feeling so sorry for himself. He wasn’t the one being sent halfway across the world to dutifully serve his country. No, Michael was stuck at home, waiting for the outcome.

It was dark now, his mini camping lantern emitting the only glow of light, but he had plenty of beers to keep him going through the night. He’d reply tomorrow - or the day after once his head had cleared. But for now he just wanted to forget everything and let the world fall away.

And maybe if he was inebriated enough it would keep the nightmares at bay. 

August 2010

To anyone who asked, Michael was a stoic twenty year old who didn’t engage in something so pathetic as having emotions.

But to himself, he would reluctantly have to admit they often played a part in many of his life choices. 

Like the big choices that had been fuelled by pain and confusion, standing in the middle of the desert with his two remaining family members standing by. Or the smaller choices made in the dead of night encouraged by a sappy romantic notion he had witnessed in one of Isobel’s romcoms.

Small, but no less important.

Like the decision to fill a shoebox with dried petals to help rid it of the musty smell that often accompanied any container that had been closed for too long.

He dedicated an entire day to researching flowers, finding out how to preserve them and which ones gave off the best scent.

Hydrangeas were a strong contender. Their pastel hues of purple and blue would add a nice drop of colour to the box and they were one of the easiest flowers to preserve. But they would last less than a year and Michael didn’t want to run the risk of the petals flaking into a hundred pieces and ruining the box.

Chrysanthemums were next on the list. The drying method seemed simple enough and though the petals were fairly small, they came in a whole host of vibrant colours. They were also the official flower for mother’s day in Australia and though the country itself meant nothing to him, it would give the petals a bittersweet double meaning. A way of keeping two separate loves alive alongside each other. Everything about them seemed perfect and several nearby florists even had them in stock ready for him to collect that day but when he stumbled upon a website stating that they also symbolised death they were instantly scratched off the list.

Pansies or larkspurs or little cuttings of lavender were all possibilities but they just didn’t feel right.

He didn’t want to become a stereotypical old romantic but his mind kept wandering to the roses. The elegant petals would sit nicely atop the letters and the sweet, fresh scent would be a pleasant addition to the box. Their frequent association with all things love and romance fell alongside the lesser known connotation of secrecy and confidentiality, words that all seemed to sum up the box completely.

The drying process would take time but it would be time well spent. Not to mention the intricate symbolism linked with each soft colour would add an extra touch to the box.

Red was a given with its instant connection to love.

Pink meant grace and gratitude and though he most certainly lacked one, he was definitely filled with the other. Every letter that arrived at his door was further proof that Alex was still alive and as long as they kept coming he would be eternally grateful.

Oranges roses were the symbol of passion and enthusiasm and while you could definitely use both of those words in relation to the last time he had seen Alex, the letters felt more innocent than that.

That didn’t necessarily mean that white roses were the way to go though, with their implication of innocence and purity. Not even he could kid himself that much.

With his mind made up, he grabbed his hat and headed out to engage in a spot of criminal activity.

Was it technically a crime though to cut someone else’s flowers? I mean how could Mrs Wilson really own her rose bushes when they belonged to Mother Nature first.

He wouldn’t have even thought about taking someone else’s, but the internet had very clearly specified that home grown roses were much better than shop bought flowers and who was he to argue with that?

It was mid-morning on a Wednesday so no one was around to see him attack the hedge with some clippers. It would have been a lot easier to literally be a thief in the night, but roses were best picked before the midday sun had a chance to warm their delicate petals. Any later in the day and they would lose their fragrance, so daylight robbery was the way to go.

He snipped at the branches, grumbling as his fingers caught the sharp thorns protruding from the stems, and once he had retrieved the optimum amount of red and pink flowers he headed back to the airstream to begin the lengthy drying process.

It would take a few days but the outcome would be worth it.

February 2011

The sight of one man should not leave Michael freezing in his tracks. He was an alien for God's sake. A superior species with actual powers.

Who the hell was Jesse Manes compared to that? An old man with a limited wardrobe and receding hairline? A divorced father of four kids who hated him? A nameless soldier overshadowed by his peers?

No, Jesse Manes was a respected member of the community, known and loved by all. A loyal airman with several commendations under his belt. An intimidating man prepared to brutally disfigure the hand of a child and easily get away with it.

Why Alex would choose to follow in his footsteps he would never understand.

Michael hadn’t seen Alex’s father since the night in the toolshed. The night he ruined what, up until that point, had been a perfect day. And he destroyed so much more than Michael’s hand that night. He destroyed the memory of his and Alex’s first time together, the possibility of him using a guitar to quiet the world around him, the opportunity for a roof over his head.

He had destroyed the chance for Michael to heal and move on and gain some faith back in humanity.

And three years later, here he was across the street from Michael’s truck, sitting at the window of the Crashdown, keeping Michael frozen to his seat.

He was supposed to be meeting Max for lunch in ten minutes, but there was no way he could go inside now.

Maybe Alex’s father wouldn’t even remember him. He had only seen him one time, several years ago. He couldn’t possibly have committed Michael’s face to memory in the three minutes they had shared a space together. But then again, Michael couldn’t imagine he went around hitting kids with hammers all that often so maybe it had been a memorable night for him. 

Whether it had had impact on Jesse Manes or not, Michael still remembered it vividly.

The way the door slammed open and Alex flinched away from his touch. The quiver in Alex’s voice as Manes picked up the hammer. The sight of Alex whimpering as his father’s hand squeezed around his throat. The pain filled shout Michael could barely make out over the sound of his own bones cracking.

In shock and in agony, he vaguely recalls being thrown out of the shed and staggering to his truck, but admittedly that part was still blurry.

To this day though, he still didn’t know what happened to Alex once he’d gone. They had never really talked about that night, not properly at least. Alex had been very eager to check how his hand was healing or offer to take him to a doctor, but always reluctant to discuss what he’d endured.

In all honesty, Michael still didn’t know if Jesse had done anything to Alex but it was always his suspicion. He’d recognised the fury in the older man’s eyes to know that that anger needed an outlet and Michael’s hand probably hadn’t been enough.

His hand ached suddenly at the memory and he clenched it hard in a useless attempt to make it stop. It had been hurting a lot lately, seizing up and making it impossible to do anything.

Max had offered to heal it a number of times but he still refused. He’d tell himself that it was because of Alex. How would he explain a perfectly healed hand to the guy who had witnessed the brutality it had suffered?

But if he ever decided to admit the truth to himself, he’d accept that really it was all for self preservation. A constant reminder moulded under his skin of what humans were really like. A way of reminding him not to get too close to people, not to let them into his life.

Clearly, Alex was the exception to this rule and Michael honestly couldn’t explain why. Right from the start their connection had just been something else. Something unexplainable.

Feeling the panic starting to bubble in his chest, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He could text Max. The I’m held up at the junkyard excuse would keep him busy long enough for the police officer’s lunch break to end. He could dodge the bullet completely that way and just make it up to him tomorrow.

Or would that be like letting Jesse Manes win? What would he even be winning? There was no way that man remembered who Michael was.

Looking over to the window again, he watched as Alex’s father handed something to the waitress.

Was he really going to let his past trauma dictate where he could have lunch?

At the moment? Yes.

Sliding his phone out of his front pocket, he unlocked it quickly and opened the messenger app, his thumb hovering over Max’s name but then he had an idea.

He clicked on the little notepad icon and began to type.

Alex’s latest letter arrived last week and was still awaiting a reply and what better time to write one than when you’re freaking out slightly at the sight of a man who had once attacked you.

He barely noticed the autocorrect working hard to fix his many mistakes, he just needed to get the words out.

He didn’t mention Jesse, deciding to steer clear of the man entirely and focus on the positives instead. Alex was free from his father’s harsh rules and strict parenting for the time being so there was no point wasting his words on a man he most likely didn’t want to hear about.

It was overly sentimental and he’d probably edit it massively before writing it up, but for now he impulsively typed up everything he wanted to say. Everything he would say if Alex was sitting next to him right now.

 Dear Alex,

Glad to see that you’re stateside again, it stressed me out every day you were overseas.

I’m really happy that you’ve settled in with the work you’re doing and I’ve almost come to terms with the fact that your job is going to be dangerous at times, but that still doesn’t stop me worrying about it. And even after all this time you’ve been away, it’s still weird to not have you here. 

Everything has been reminding me of you recently, which is both beautiful and horrible because at least you’re here when you’re not here. But you’re not here and I really wish you were. Like when a song by that band you like comes on the radio, or if I walk past the Emporium, or I order a milkshake at the Crashdown or even just seeing Maria at the Wild Pony.

Max was telling me the other day about this kid who reported his guitar stolen and I couldn’t help but think back to when I stole yours. Well, I say stole, I promise I really was just borrowing it. I knew it was yours though and part of me definitely wanted you to find out that I had taken it, anything to get you to notice me. The offer of somewhere to sleep was completely unexpected though and proves just what a good person you are. I took your belongings and in return you gave me shelter and I don’t think I thanked you enough for that.

You’re in every corner of this town for me Alex and I know we didn’t have long but the time that we spent together before you left were some of the best days of my life.

I miss you.

Come back soon.

Michael

As he reached the last sentence, a knock on the passenger side window made him jump.

Max, in his uniform and hat, lifted his hand in a halfhearted wave and tilted his head towards the Crashdown as if to say are you coming?

A quick final glance through the window showed no sign of Jesse Manes and Michael slowly let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

September 2011

“This is a good look for you.” Michael whispered.

“What, naked?” Alex smiled softly, peering sleepily back at him. 

Michael began to lightly trail his hand down Alex’s chest, watching Alex close his eyes at the sensation. “Naked. In my bed.”

Alex had shown up at his doorstep late last night, this time with some warning in his latest letter, and they hadn’t wasted any time. So fuelled with longing and desire, Michael couldn’t remember a second of last night where their bodies hadn’t been touching.

Looking at Alex now, with his perfect bed head and sun kissed skin, Michael wasn’t sure he was going to be able to let him leave.

He did have something important to talk to Alex about though. Something they had never really discussed that had been leaving Michael feeling very confused lately. He was twenty-one years old having the awkward teenage thought of are we together or is this just a bit of fun? Is this guy my boyfriend? Can I even say the word boyfriend without freaking him out?

“There was something I meant to talk to you about last night-” He began, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Did we actually talk at all last night?”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.” Alex smiled, holding his lip between his teeth. “Go on, what did you want to say?”

“You know I do have a phone, right? An actual expensive one and everything thanks to Isobel buying it for me. So you can text me, instead of spending weeks waiting for a reply.”

Alex paused for a moment. How was it best to tell Michael without looking weak? How during Basic Training one nosy guy thought it would be fun to take his unlocked phone and look through his messages. How he was terrified of being outed that day and that fear had followed him through his few years of serving. How even though his letters are technically much easier to read, the lock on the box they were kept in is so thick you would need to have a bolt cutter handy to break it. Or the key, which was kept in a very secure location.

“There’s something more…personal, about writing a letter. ” He decided to go with. “Besides, phones can get hacked.” 

“Who the hell is gonna want to hack into your phone?”

Alex shrugged with a smirk, “I’m just saying, after learning what I have in training, hacking your phone right now would be a piece of cake.”

“Right, and these hackers would want to, what? Use all our discussions about broken alien statues and nights out in the desert against us.”

“There are some terrible people out there.” The fake sincerity in Alex’s eyes as he nodded his head made Michael chuckle.

Alex pushed himself up fully in the bed, letting the sheets pool around his naked hips. He leant forward and Michael didn’t need to be asked twice to drop the subject and meet him halfway. As much as he loved last night, their slow morning kisses were even better. Soft and all smiles, filled with the gratitude that they were still sharing this moment together.

“I’m sorry I was late last night, the move this week has been busier than I expected.” Alex whispered between pecks.

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you made it. Where are you based now?”

“Maryland. Probably just for a month or so though until I get more permanent orders.”

Leaning back, Michael could see the weariness in Alex’s eyes. He knew that being in the military was a hard job - even harder if you had been forced into it - and Michael hated just how much responsibility had been put on Alex’s young shoulders.

His eyes twinkled as he got an idea, a way of lightening Alex’s load for a few hours. “You fancy going out tonight?” 

Alex’s face dropped and Michael’s heart along with it. “Like, together?”

“No, I figured we’d go to different bars and get drunk separately.” Michael replied sarcastically. 

This is not what he had expected. Alex saying no to a night out? Fine, not a problem, wouldn’t have been that surprising of an answer. Maybe he doesn’t fancy a drink, maybe he’s just not into partying anymore.

But was Alex saying no to them going out together?

“Is it because of me?” Michael could hear the anger beginning to grow in his tone but he couldn’t help it. This conversation had flipped completely out of nowhere. “When I told you about the whole drunk cowboy reputation I’ve gained, it was meant to make you laugh. Not make you ashamed of me.”

“I’m not ashamed!” Alex defensively shook his head.

“Then what is it? Cos I like doing this Alex, but I need to know what it is that we’re actually doing, where we’re going with it. Are we going anywhere with it?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say Guerin! Things are complicated right now.”

I want you to say you want to be with me! I want you to tell me you love me as much as I love you! Michael hadn’t expected for this to turn into an argument, but he was prepared to cause one if it meant getting answers.

But as he took a breath, he looked at Alex. Like properly looked at him. He had grown up so much since they’d last seen each other. He’d changed so much. But for the first time he was the one who was looking unsure about what to say.

The defensive hunch of his shoulders, the nervous look in his eyes. It reminded Michael so much of when Alex had first told him he was leaving. And those goddamn hubcaps.

This was the second time he had caused that look in Alex’s eyes and if he never saw it again it would be too soon. He still had a few days before Alex was going to leave him again and he should be making the most of them instead of pushing him away.

If Alex was unsure of what they were doing then so be it. They would have to discuss it at some point this weekend, for Michael’s own sanity more than anything, but for now he would have to let it go if it meant keeping Alex happy.

January 2012

Earth wasn’t his home.

He knew that. He’s known that since he woke up in a glowing alien pod. But it’s only through life’s lessons over the years that he’s really learnt that.

He didn’t belong here, with an inferior species that enjoyed hurting others simply because of who they were. He’d seen it happen in shops and on the street. People targeted for being different. It was such a human response and he shuddered at the thought of what it meant for them if their secret ever came out.

And who was keeping him here? Max and Isobel? Alex?

Him and Isobel were close, but she had her own life. Parents that loved her, a boyfriend she was besotted with. She didn’t need Michael hanging around, bringing her down.

His feelings on Max were like a sliding scale of rage. The other man had been acting like his father for most of his life, telling him what to do and how to live. Max says they should cover up Rosa’s death. Max says they should keep what they are a secret. Max, with his fancy job and respected standing in society. Michael didn’t need his help anymore or his pity.

And then there was Alex. The boy who made him believe there was a place for him on Earth. But now, Michael wasn’t so sure.The last time he had seen Alex in person, things hadn’t ended that great and though they’ve still been writing to each other, something had definitely changed. They had changed.

Michael reminded himself of all this as he climbed down the stairs into the junkyard’s fallout shelter.

He had discovered the hidden bunker one day after slipping away from Sanders during work hours to hunt for some more copper wire. The opening had been covered by a beaten up truck that had been sitting in the junkyard for years, he wasn’t sure if the old man even knew it was down there.

From that day on he had claimed it as his own, making sure it was covered every time he left.

His collection had started off small. A few legit pieces of alien artefact that he had stolen from the Emporium and the odd dark web purchase, but after a few stealthy ventures to the UFO crash site he had begun to discover even more fragments. Considering the people of Roswell had been obsessing over the crash since 1947, Michael was honestly surprised that not every piece of the ship had been excavated already.

Luckily for him, his latest night time search in the desert had proven successful and he had made it back to the bunker with two small glowing pieces.

Building up the secret bunker’s workshop had taken time and a few stolen supplies, but now there were tools and shelves and bulbs in the mismatched lighting decor that had thankfully already been installed.

Littering the worktops were sketches and blueprints of the measurements and calculations he had spent months working on. There were spools of tubing and a portable generator sitting on the shelf. But his prized possession resting on one of the tables was his slowly forming alien spaceship. He was pretty sure what he was building was the console, but maybe one day it would turn into the entire spacecraft.

Covered in alien symbols and shimmering to the touch, it could be his way off of this stupid planet.

Michael gently took the pieces out of his pocket and held them close to the ship. One did nothing, staying stubbornly in his palm, but the other rose into the air and delicately travelled to one of the broken sides, a faint blue glistening the surface as the sharp edges knitted together like they had never been broken. 

Placing the remaining piece on the table, Michael sighed. One day he would find all the pieces and finish this. And when that day came, there would be nothing to keep him here.

October 2012

“You’re staying whether you like it or not.” Isobel gave him a pointed look as she rummaged through the crates of decorations piled on the table in front of her. 

“Yeah Michael, it’ll be fun.” Max said enthusiastically, holding a fist under his chin and batting his eyelids. A move they had both seen Isobel pull several times when mocking her mother. 

She smacked Max on the arm, furious that he would belittle all of her hard work, before shoving a large plastic box into his chest. “The crop circle exhibit needs more bats.”

Her brother took the box with an exaggerated sigh but obliged nevertheless. He had learnt long ago that when Isobel was running things you either got on with it or got the hell out of her way. 

With one brother now busy, she moved onto the next. “Right, there’s a few banners that need putting up and then you can go get changed.”

Her demand was met with silence which worried Isobel greatly and when she glanced up from her checklist, she didn’t appreciate the confused look in Michael’s eyes. “Please tell me you have a costume. It’s Halloween Michael!”

“I didn’t exactly plan on staying, Isobel!” he retaliated. He’d been asked to come and fix the glitchy projector in the knock-off Men In Black room, not spend all night with a bunch of people he didn’t know, surrounded by dumb gimmicky aliens. “Why did you choose to have it here anyway? Isn’t it a bit degrading to us as a species?” 

“I didn’t choose it. The Emporium wanted a Halloween event and I’m just part of the committee running it.” She ticked off another item on her list, not rising to his provocation. “Now, go help Max.”

Accepting an easy defeat, Michael took the closest pile of decorations and headed to the exhibit. There were several people milling around each room of the Emporium, all engaged in one task or another. A group of middle aged women were rigorously dusting the artefact cabinets and two guys he vaguely recognised from around town were fixing lighting rigs to the ceiling. 

His heart skipped a beat as he reached the UFO room, his eyes drawn immediately to the spot where he and Alex shared their first kiss. He had been so nervous that day, tentatively grabbing the other boy’s face before he could talk himself out of it, praying that Alex wouldn’t pull away.

Through the red fabric curtains at the back of the room was the crop circle exhibit. It was completely empty of people save for Max attempting to loop a small fuzzy bat around one of the hanging lights.

Taking pity on him, Michael willed the creature to float the extra few inches and fasten itself around the wire. It had been a while since he’d used his powers in a public setting and it gave him such a rush to get away with it unseen. It was quite embarrassing really. It’s not like he was committing a crime in the middle of a police station. Unless you were looking closely, the fact that some objects floated when he was nearby was actually surprisingly easy to miss.

Max’s head immediately whipped round, eyes wide with trepidation. “Dude, what if someone walks in?”

“Chill, Deputy. We’re safe.” Michael rolled his eyes as he began to stroll around the room. He hadn’t been in here since Alex’s last day and literally nothing had changed. I mean, fair enough, there hadn’t exactly been any more alien encounters since then to add to the exhibition. But they could have put some effort in and switched things up a bit.

As he turned to speak to Max his foot caught something, but without hesitation his telekinesis acted fast to catch the alien statue mid-fall. Settling it back on its two feet with his mind, Michael chuckled to himself as he realised exactly what it was that he had knocked over. Turns out the little guy did still have his head on backwards.

It had been four years since Alex’s last day working the ticket booth, when they had sneaked inside during his lunch break to passionately kiss in the dark corners of the museum. If Michael hadn’t been so distracted that day he would have caught the alien before it had a chance to decapitate itself and ruin his make out session.

They had frantically tried to re-attach it, getting their fingers covered in the glue. But alas, as an excitable eighteen year old, Michael had been too focused on the boy he was with to notice he was putting the head on backwards.

Four years and nobody had dealt with the owl impersonating alien. The Emporium really was going downhill.

“You know, if you don’t want to stay I’ll cover for you with her majesty.” Max interrupted his thoughts as he took a banner from the pile still bunched in Michael’s arms and surveyed the room to decide where best to hang it.

“Nah, it’s alright. Can’t leave you without a wingman, can I?” Michael playfully raised an eyebrow as he dumped the pile on the floor and grabbed the other end of the banner.

“I’m serious Michael. You don’t actually have to do as she says you know.” Max grinned at him, hooking his side onto one of the picture frames hanging on the wall and watching Michael do the same.

Michael looked over at his friend. When the day began he had planned to end it in the airstream, drunk on whiskey and in bed with a beautiful stranger. But standing in front of him was his chance to do something different for a change, to spend some time with the only family he had left and maybe even remember it all in the morning.

“I know. But maybe you’re right. It could be fun.”

March 2013

So it was letters like these that made Michael feel guilty about how he’d been spending his time. Or more specifically who he’d been spending his time with.

For the first time in years he could go entire weeks without thinking of Alex once and the odd drunken hookup definitely helped to keep his mind off the boy who barely wrote to him anymore.

It had become a recurring thing for him, much to the chagrin of Isobel who vehemently disapproved of his life choices. She couldn’t understand why Michael wouldn’t want to find someone special and settle down with them. But he wouldn’t expect any less from the girl who was so head over heels in love with her boyfriend.

Isobel had Noah, and Michael?

Michael had Vicky. Last night.

They met at the Pony, as these stories often started for him, and had enjoyed a very long, very sensual night together within the small confines of the airstream.

She made him coffee in the morning, engaged in an appropriate amount of small talk, then left. A perfect night by all accounts, so why couldn’t the rest of his day be perfect too?

When the mailman loudly interrupted his work on his latest batch of sketches he had been tempted not to answer. When he immediately recognised Alex’s handwriting on the front of the envelope he had been very tempted not to open it.

One day he would stop giving in to his feelings for Alex. Today was not that day.

Dear Michael,

I saw someone die today.

I feel kind of numb right now which doesn’t seem right to me, but it’s like I can’t tell what emotion I should be feeling, so I’m just hoping that getting the words onto paper might help get them out of my head.

I don’t know whether I’m supposed to have been prepared for it or not, I mean it’s an occupational hazard that I signed up for so I should be fine, right? I’ve been in Iraq for almost two months now, on my second deployment, and yet this is the first time I’ve actually seen someone get killed right in front of me. So does that make me lucky to have gone this long without it happening?

I could have saved him. If I had just been closer, if I had gotten there quicker, he probably wouldn’t have died. But then if I was closer I probably wouldn’t be writing this right now so I guess I am the lucky one.

I hadn’t known him long but he was a good kid, always hard at work, always looking out for everyone. He was younger than me.

The guys are so quiet. Nobody knows what to do with themselves and this bit I’m strangely used to. It’s not the first time someone I know has been killed and things can’t come to a stop while we’re out here no matter the circumstances. But for a short while after something like this happens it’s like the light inside of everyone just disappears. Like we’re reminded all over again of how quickly things can change here.

We’ll be okay though, we’ll pick each other up and move on. But we’ll never forget him.

They’ll never forget his service. And I’ll never forget what I saw.

I’m sorry, it’s selfish to burden you with this but I just really needed to tell someone.

Hope everything is okay in Roswell.

Stay safe,

Alex.

And just like that Michael was drawn back into the little Alex loving bubble he had been desperately trying to pop.

Stay safe. He writes an entire letter about seeing someone die and he tells Michael to stay safe. And if that didn’t sum up Alex he didn’t know what did. Always trying to look out for other people, even if it hurts him.

Michael re-read the line about being quicker, being closer and something tightens in his chest. He could still remember how guilty Alex had felt after the incident in the toolshed all those years ago, so Michael knew exactly how much Alex would be putting his colleague’s death on his shoulders right now. And if he had been close enough to help, Michael was well aware of how willingly he would have sacrificed himself to keep his teammates safe.

He didn’t even know that Alex was in Iraq. Their communication had slowed so much recently and this entire time Michael had chalked it up to him no longer wanting to keep in contact but maybe this was why he hadn’t been writing.

It reminded him yet again of how little he really knew about Alex’s job and the things he had to face. As much as he would love it, he could hardly expect constant letters with updates of every little part of Alex’s life.

But he could support him. From the safety of his airstream where there were no bullets flying and people dying around him, he could listen to what Alex had to say no matter how long it took to arrive.

His sleeping around had been a poor attempt of cleansing Alex and the war he was fighting from his mind, but Alex would never get that luxury. Not until he was out of the Air Force and back home at least.

The fear of Alex dying was at the forefront of his thoughts once more, but maybe it was a good thing - the kind of fear that propels you forward and gives you hope that things will change. Habits were hard to break but maybe he would take Isobel’s advice and wait for his someone special to make it home.

August 2013

Friday night at the Wild Pony brought out all manner of locals. Friends reuniting after being away for months, married couples taking the time to cool off after a long week at work, the happy drunks, the racist drunks, and already at the bar being served his first drink of the evening, the lonely cowboy.

Max’s shift didn’t end for another hour, but Michael figured there wouldn’t be any harm in getting to the Pony early. He had a higher tolerance than Max anyway so it was better to get a head start.

As he was lifting his first alcohol filled glass to his lips he heard the voice of someone he hadn’t seen in five years. He barely suppressed a groan as he sneaked a glimpse to his left.

“More tequila’s please, Maria.” The man’s voice dripped with confidence.

Michael watched as he placed a tray of empty shot glasses on the bar top before leaning forward, his forearms dropping heavily onto the wood.

Maria took the tray with a smile and got to work.

“Guerin. Still in Roswell, I see.” He said casually, turning to look at Michael. 

“Valenti. Still a dick, I see.” Michael replied, giving his best fake smile.

Kyle’s brow furrowed in surprise at the attitude being directed towards him. He must have remembered Michael’s reputation from school, but he clearly hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of it half a decade later.

“How have you been?” He continued regardless, somewhat optimistic in the face of Michael’s pre-drunk demeanour. Maria unscrewed the bottle cap and Michael could see her watching them carefully as if they were the main feature of her Wild Pony nature documentary.

“Since when do you care?” Michael remarked tightly, smile still plastered on his face and when Kyle scoffed and looked away, Michael was almost disappointed. The guy from high school would have had him on his ass by now.

“Whatever.” Kyle muttered just as Maria filled the last glass. He slapped some money onto the bar, sliding it forward to meet Maria’s waiting hand and she took it gratefully, put it straight in the till.

“See you around.” He spoke to no-one in particular before leaving with the tray, though not fast enough in Michael’s opinion.

Maria rolled her eyes as she put the tequila bottle back on the shelf. “What did Kyle ever do to you?”

“Do you not remember him in high school?” Michael asked, glancing over his shoulder at where Kyle was handing out the shot glasses round the table. It wasn’t a surprise to see that he was still Mr Popular with the big group of friends.

“Oh no, I remember him. I just don’t remember you ever talking to him.”

“Didn’t have to talk to him to know he was an asshole.” Michael muttered as he downed the last of his drink.

He’d witness enough of his taunting to know exactly what kind of person Kyle Valenti was. He was the cliche jock surrounded by a constant posse of football players, using his popularity to get away with bullying innocent kids.

Nerdy kids whose fear of authority and eagerness to please everyone would be taken advantage of.

Poor kids whose worn down shoes and too small clothes would be an instant target on their backs.

Gay kids who did absolutely nothing to deserve the brunt of Kyle’s torment for so many years. Gay kids who could also pack a mean punch when it really came down to it. 

Kyle had made it his mission in high school to ruin Alex’s life and Michael would never forgive him for it. Simple as that.

“What is he even doing here anyway?”

Maria picked up the closest bottle of whiskey and refilled his glass. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed at how well she knew his drinking habits.

“He’s been travelling to visit family but now he’s back for a few weeks to see some friends before his next year of med school starts.” Maria answered easily, letting out a huff of laughter as Michael narrowed his eyes in confusion. “When you’re this side of the bar, people tell you everything…like I’m sure you’ll be doing soon enough.”

Michael smirked as he took another swig of whiskey. It burned in his chest before settling uneasily in his stomach. “You love it Deluca, don’t try and deny it.”

Taking another look behind him, Michael watched as Kyle spoke, gesturing wildly with his arms as his words held the attention of everyone circled around him. He looked no different from high school, same dark quiff styled neatly with gel, same bulging muscles on show under his tight fitting top, same punchable face.

Watching Alex take a swing at Kyle during prom had been a very proud moment for Michael - and he had barely even known Alex by that point. If he hadn’t been worried that Alex would get hurt, Michael would have gladly watched him punch Kyle for the rest of the evening.

“I think he’s changed, you know.” Maria interrupted his thoughts as she wiped down the bar top in front of him. Her bracelets jangled noisily with every movement. “College has been good for him.”

Michael watched as she ran her necklace between her fingers and went about collecting the empty beer bottles sitting at the end of the bar. “Kyle Valenti will never change.” 

Deep down a tiny part of him would admit that Maria was right. Since leaving high school everyone he’s known has changed in some way or another - normally for the better as they grow out of their ignorant, childish ways. But he just couldn’t imagine golden boy Kyle Valenti turning his life around that much. And even though one day Alex, with his heart of gold, will probably end up forgiving Kyle, Michael never would.

June 2014

“I’m just saying, if Noah expects me to take it easy with this wedding organisation, he’s got another thing coming.” Isobel spoke animatedly as the three of them walked down the street. “I am practically the unofficial Roswell party planning committee after all.”

“Isn’t a committee normally a group of people?” Max quizzed, moving out of the way for a little boy on his bike that was riding towards them.

“Not what you’re supposed to be taking from this conversation, Max.” Isobel glared at him. “I got proposed to guys!”

“Yeah, we got that from the first fifty times you told us.” Michael remarked, righting the cowboy hat that had slipped down on his head.

“Well, I’m allowed to be excited!”

Max gave his sister a fond smile. “Of course you are. But I think any more wedding talk today will literally melt Michael’s brain.”

It had been over a week since Noah had gotten down on one knee and Max and Michael had heard every possible recounting of the evening along with every guest list suggestion, every wedding hairstyle idea, even every floral arrangement possibility. As a couple, they had barely had a chance to set a date, yet Isobel was now firmly stuck in wedding planner mode.

It was Max who had put forward that the three of them meet up. It was his first day off after a busy week of shifts and it was warm out, though the suggestion to make the most of the sun was also a ploy to force Isobel to take a break from her obsessing. But unfortunately the wedding seemed to have followed them.

It didn’t really bother them though as they strolled through town, soaking up the warmth of the rays and enjoying each other’s company. Isobel was happy and in love and it was exactly what she deserved.

As they neared the end of the road, they reached the Crashdown. The cafe was a hubbub of happy, smiling customers and servers in their uniforms and antennae, but it was hard to miss the derogatory, racist words spray painted across the windows. Michael didn’t envy the poor waiter who was desperately scrubbing at them with soapy water.

Every year on the anniversary of Rosa Ortecho’s death the Crashdown was vandalised and every year it hurt more and more to witness.

Arturo Ortecho didn’t deserve the hate he got because of what happened to his daughter. He didn’t deserve for his livelihood, his home to be wrecked every year because of a choice Isobel made. A choice they all made.

After the fateful night six years ago, they had sworn to each other they would not set foot in the Crashdown again, to separate themselves from the Ortecho’s completely. But over the years, whether it be from guilt or concern, they had never been able to keep that promise.

“Let’s go in,” Max said after a moment of staring inside.

“Max-” Michael warned. He was all for keeping up appearances but today of all days they ought to be keeping a low profile when it came to the Crashdown.

“We should show our support. It’s the least we can do.” Max turned to look at him pointedly. And as much as Michael hated it, he was right. They had managed to keep the events of that night a secret for so long now. Avoiding the place once a year wasn’t really going to have as big an impact as they liked to think it would.

And being the cause of Mr Ortecho’s suffering, it was the least they could do.

Entering with a smile, they found a booth in the corner and Michael was made designated ‘seat saver’ as Max and Isobel went up to the counter. They all knew each other’s orders off by heart, but neither sibling wanted to run the risk of potentially running into Arturo alone for fear of not knowing what to say.

Michael watched as the waiter outside finished with one window and moved onto the next.

He was lucky in a way. He could go months without thinking about what they chose to do to those three girls. How they covered up the murders and framed an innocent for it. He doubted Arturo ever had the pleasure of forgetting about the death of his eldest daughter.

And now, as he tried to forget once more about certain events of that night, his mind was drawn to the other life changing incident and his worry for Alex reignited all over again. He had been able to protect Alex from his father back then, but whilst they were on two separate continents, Michael was powerless.

Not that he thought Alex needed his protection. Michael knew just how strong he was, but the job of an airman was unpredictable.

In an attempt to calm his mind, he thought back to the letter he had received yesterday and tried to recall the words it contained.

Dear Michael,

I can’t believe you managed to find work on Mr Anderson’s ranch! Or more specifically, I can’t believe he willingly hired you after the amount of trouble you caused him. I’m guessing you didn’t tell him that it was you that drove straight through his crop field or let all those horses out when we were younger? Because you know as well as I do, that man holds a grudge.

I’m glad you’re finding all this work. I used to worry that you wouldn’t realise how skilled you were so it’s nice to hear that people are actually appreciating your hard work.

I’ve spent the past week updating security measures here and the all-nighters are reminding me of high school before a math test or something. I think I actually used to go days without sleeping sometimes if I was trying to cram in revision and I honestly don’t know how I managed it back then. Teenage me was obviously a lot stronger.

There’s rumours that we could be heading back to North Dakota next month, but I’m not getting my hopes up. Germany’s not too bad, the people have been great and the food is delicious. On our down days we’ve been going to this cafe just outside of base. They have this type of iced coffee that tastes amazing and I’ve definitely had it far too much judging by the amount of teasing I get from my team every time I order it.

As nice as it is here though, it would be good to be back on home soil. I feel like I’ve been away from America for so long.

I’ll let you know if we do end up moving bases and maybe I’ll visit Roswell again soon.

Hope you’re okay.

From,

Alex.

Michael was pulled out of his thoughts as Max and Isobel took their seats. They were bickering about something or other and the familiarity forced all his worries to the back of his mind.

Alex would be home soon and Michael would be able to hold him in his arms and everything would be alright. And for now, he would make the most of his time with the rest of his family.

October 2014

Michael was warming himself by the fire when a car pulled up by the airstream. He had managed to find the old burn barrel at the junkyard a few months ago along with some mismatched chairs and lighting the fire had become a calming night time occurrence for him.

He brought the beer bottle to his lips and took a sip, wordlessly watching as Alex stepped out of the car and wandered over to him. He wasn’t sure why Alex was even here. The letters had been getting infrequent again, the enthusiasm dwindling, and Michael had been starting to suspect that their hearts were just no longer in it.

Alex had informed him that he was on leave for a few days and Michael had been happy, excited even. But at some point between this morning - where he had been frantically trying to calm his nerves as he tided up the place - to this evening, something had changed. He’d managed to overthink everything he’d been wanting to say to Alex for a long time now.

“Hey.” Alex smiled politely as he came to a stop by the fire. If he thought it strange that Michael hadn’t greeted him he didn’t mention it, but he did pause, hands clasped behind his back, almost waiting for permission to take a seat.

Michael took another gulp of beer, watching Alex carefully. “You can sit down you know.”

Alex didn’t need to be told twice, dropping into the seat closest to him. He looked older, the years of service catching up on him, hardening him against all that he had seen. 

“How have you been?” He asked. His voice was calm but Michael could see the wariness in his eyes. So he had noticed Michael’s rather frosty welcoming.

“Same as always.” Michael muttered, looking off into the distance.

“Are you okay-”

“What are you doing here, Alex?” Michael blurted out before he lost the nerve.

Alex’s eyes widened at the outburst, “Sorry, I thought you said I could drop by when I got back.”

“Okay fine, what are we doing here?” Michael rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh, “I mean this thing we’re doing, is it real or just some hookup for when you come home?”

Alex recoiled at the accusation and Michael could feel the guilt creeping in once more at the hurt in Alex’s eyes. Okay so maybe that was a bit harsh, but there was no point dragging out this conversation for the next three days. Plus, he suspected his veins were filled more of alcohol than blood right now and when he was on a roll there was no stopping him.

“Last time you were here I tried to have this conversation with you and we got nowhere. That was years ago and we’re still dancing around it.”

“You know it’s not like that. The sex I mean. I don’t come here just to sleep with you, I come to see you.” The fire crackled loudly, the flames casting an orange glow over Alex as he spoke. “I’m sorry I haven’t been writing much lately. Your letters mean everything to me and I like doing this with you, but I just…”

“Just what?” Michael demanded. He could see Alex take a breath as he tried to word the next sentence correctly in his head.

“Anything could happen while I’m in the Air Force and I just don’t think you should pin your hopes on this.”

If Michael could stop with the tunnel vision for two seconds he would realise that Alex was trying to protect him, but all he heard was that Alex didn’t want to be with him, not properly at least. Not as his boyfriend, his partner, his other half.

Michael didn’t have an answer and Alex had no more to add.

They had barely spent five minutes in each other’s company after years apart and they’d already been rendered quiet. It isn’t how either of them had expected it to go. They sat in the uncomfortable silence, their gazes fixed on the fire but barely registering the flames licking the air. Neither wanted to make the first move.

The beautiful boy he had been in love with since they were seventeen had practically just told him that they would never be together and instead of feeling sad or desperate, Michael fell back to his default emotion. He was filled with so much anger he could practically feel it burning under his skin.

The moment he kissed Alex in the museum all those years ago he had seen the future they could have together, but now, in the cool autumn evening as he watched the tips of the flames reaching up to the sky, that dream was crumbling.

“Do you want me to go?” Alex asked faintly after a few minutes.

Yes! If you walk away now then I’ll have my final answer and it will make all of this so much easier.

“No.”

Alex had only just gotten there and as pissed off as Michael felt, the thought of him leaving again suddenly hurt like hell. “I miss you.” He whispered, struggling to make eye contact at the admission.

In his peripheral vision he could see Alex pause uneasily, almost waiting for another outburst, and when none came the airman replied with a wary smile. “Me too.”

May 2015

Another soda can went flying into the air and Max shot it down with trained precision. It almost hit Isobel on the way down who couldn’t hold back a squeal as she moved out of the way.

“I can’t believe you dragged me out here for this.” She huffed at the boys as she righted herself in the chair. Her plans for the weekend had involved shopping, TV and sleeping. It had been a long week and it was what she deserved. Instead, she was getting sand in her shoes and cans flung towards her face.

“You’re the one who said we should practice using our powers more.” Michael smirked, concentrating on the unopened can sitting on the desk inside the airstream. With barely any effort, he watched as it floated through the doorway and over towards Isobel.

“That was an excuse to get into Old Man Simmons’ head and you know it.” She narrowed his eyes at him but grabbed the can anyway. “Besides, isn’t there a more productive way to train?”

“What are you talking about? We used to do this all the time.” Max lifted the gun and signalled for Michael to throw the next can into the air.

“Yeah, when we were like seventeen. Don’t know if you noticed but we’re not kids anymore.”

“Tell me about it. Did you know Sheriff Valenti let me assist on another murder case last week. She said I’m showing potential.” 

“Bit of a morbid thing to brag about there, Deputy.” Michael grinned as he used his power to send the next can flying, trying to catch Max off guard with its speed. Max was too slow to hit it during its ascent, but before it touched the ground he had sent a bullet clean through it.

Michael whistled in amazement and clapped Max on the back. They may be adults now but hitting a target was just as exciting as when they were kids.

Isobel was less than impressed if the furrowed brow was anything to go by. She honestly couldn’t understand the desire to shoot things. “Great, you hit it. Can I go now?”

She made a point of checking the time on her phone with a sigh and Max gave Michael such a sibling look. The kind of look that clearly conveyed annoyance, irritation and the simple question of will she ever stop complaining.

“Will you lighten up Iz, it’s just a bit of fun.” Michael rolled his eyes dramatically. “Now hurry up and drink that, we’re gonna need it soon.”

He was about the throw another can when he noticed a white van driving up the path, recognising it immediately. He felt bad for the guy, having to come out to the middle of nowhere every month or so just to drop off a single letter.

He walked over to meet the mailman as he parked in front of them and gratefully took the letter passed to him through the open window.

“Who the hell is sending you mail?” Isobel leaned forward in her chair as the van drove off and Michael was worried for a second that she would get up and take it from him before he could stop her. She never did have good impulse control.

“It’s probably just junk.” He said dismissively, staring down at his name and address. He didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. He had literally never received a single letter from anyone else in his life.

He tried to plaster on his best nonchalant face as he jogged over to the airstream and prayed that the others wouldn’t ask questions. “It’s fine, I’ll check it later.”

Bypassing every surface entirely, knowing full well that if Isobel saw it on the desk she would open it, he opened the compartment above his bed. The cupboard had gotten more crowded over the years, but the shoebox still had its special little place inside. He looked down at the letter in his hand one more time, debating whether to just rip it open then and there, before sliding it on top of the box.

He’d read it later when he wasn’t busy.

September 2015

“Ahh Deluca. It’s been while.” Michael grinned as he took a seat at the bar. It was early evening on a Friday so the place was pretty packed, but luckily for him there was always a stool empty.

Maria grabbed a glass from the rack and the bottle of whiskey from behind her and began pouring. There were other servers behind the bar so she could afford to take her time conversing with this particular regular.

“Yes, surprisingly I did notice your absence from my bar recently and honestly I’m not sure who that looks worse for.”

“You. Definitely you.” Michael said dryly as he picked up the nearest coaster and began to twirl it between his fingers. “Besides if you were that desperate to see my ruggedly handsome face you wouldn’t have skipped your shift last Friday.”

“The fact that you know my shift pattern is not a good look for you Guerin.” Maria raised her eyebrows with a smirk. “Besides, I’m allowed a night off every now and then.”

“Oh yeah? To do what? Paint your nails? Have a nice little bubble bath? Some other girl related activity?”

“To see a friend actually. Because I have those.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” He muttered playfully and she moved forward to dramatically knock the coaster out of his hand.

“We had a lovely time, thank you for asking. He hasn’t been back home in ages so we decided to make a weekend of it.”

Michael froze at her words. There was really only one person she could be talking about but he asked the question anyway. “What friend is this?”

“Alex? Manes? He went to school with us. Former emo kid turned airman.” 

Michael’s mouth suddenly felt very dry and he couldn’t get his words out. He grabbed the drink that Maria had poured and took a large gulp. “Alex was here?”

“Yeah he had a few days leave so he came to see me. It was really sweet of him, I mean he’s worked hard for that time off and he could literally do anything with it but he chose to come here. I think he was missing home a bit actually.”

Michael bit his lip, almost enough to draw blood. He was suddenly filled with so much hurt he didn’t know what to do with it. “Was he okay?”

“Yeah. I think his work has been a bit tough recently but he seemed happy.” Maria smiled gently.

Seemed happy? Did that mean Alex was happy because he was home? Or because he was spending his time with someone other than Michael?

Michael was glad he was happy, of course he was glad. Alex’s happiness is all he’s ever wanted. And of course, he has a right to visit other friends, it was never Michael’s place to tell him not to. Even when he had stayed with Michael in the past, he had always made time to say hello to other friends before he had to leave again.

But this time he hadn’t even mentioned to Michael that he was coming home. Not a single word in any of the intermittent letters.

And maybe Michael was to blame. The last time they had seen each other hadn’t exactly been perfect. And recently he’d been putting off replying for weeks which Alex must have noticed. But he still always replied in the end! So that must have meant something, right? It must have proven to Alex that he still cared, that he would still want to spend time with him.

There was no way Alex could have known that he would find out. Michael had never properly mentioned the little love-hate friendship he had struck up with Maria over the years, so really Alex could never have predicted this. And that’s probably what he had wanted, to spend time in Roswell under the radar, away from Michael.

Should he be angry about this? Was he angry? Yes. He was probably being overdramatic but this seemed like the final nail in the coffin of their unspoken relationship.

Suddenly, he had the desperate urge to take his mind off everything he’d just heard so without thinking he turned to what he did best. Paying Maria half of what he owed for the drink, he locked eyes with a cute girl at the other end of the bar and eagerly slid off the stool, ready to make a night of it.

January 2016

Isobel grabbed his face and kissed him on the cheek before he could stop her. The fireworks exploding into a hundred sparks above their heads were loud, but the cheering from the mass of people crowded outside of the Pony seemed louder.

“Happy New Year!!” Isobel practically screamed in his ear before turning to plant an overly enthusiastic kiss on Noah’s lips. This was probably the most drunk he had ever seen Isobel and every second of it was brilliant.

Max clapped a hand on Michael’s back and they tapped glasses in a less enthusiastic celebration. When Michael had suggested that the four of them go to the Wild Pony for New Year’s he had expected to be shot down instantly, but now that they were here he was glad they had actually agreed.

It had been a good night. There was plenty of alcohol, loud music and he’d won several games of pool - all without using his powers! Even Deluca had seemed almost happy to see him but he put that down to the Christmas spirit she’d been radiating for the past week.

Watching the fireworks felt like such a cliche way to end it. It was perfect. The colours lit up the sky, the bright blues and pinks of the explosions reminding him of the alien console that was slowly coming together beneath the earth of the junkyard and the booms were so powerful he could practically feel them reverberating in his chest.

He had drunk far too much to be able to quite remember how he made it home, but closing the door behind him, he noticed how lonely the airstream felt after spending the evening in a crowd of people. 

He threw his hat onto the desk and his shoes into the nearest corner and dropped onto the bed with a sigh. He clenched his left fist a few times as the ache became noticeable again. Even after all these years, the cold weather still wreaked havoc with his injury, making it cramp or stiffen up at the worst times.

As he stared up at the ceiling he had an idea. A truly terrible idea. And if he was sober he would have realised that, but sensible Michael had taken a break for the night.

He rolled off the bed and stumbled the short distance to his desk. For a messy person, his supplies were surprisingly organised with the paper stacked in one draw and a few envelopes scattered in another. He grabbed the closest pen to him and tested it worked on a scrap design that he hadn’t had the heart to throw away yet.

His uneven lettering would probably give away his drunken state but he didn’t care. This was probably the most honest he would ever be with Alex so why not take advantage of that.

Dear Alex,

I guess I should wish you a happy new year.

You know we’ve never spent a new years together? I know you’re really busy in your super important job but it would have been nice for you to celebrate it at home one year. Or maybe you did and you just didn’t tell me.

I’ve been thinking about leaving Roswell. 2016 has officially begun and I’m stuck doing the same thing I’ve been doing my entire life, living in some tiny metal box and getting paid a measly amount at a job I only half show up to.

So maybe I should just leave. Get out of the town that’s filled with heaps of bad memories. Like all the shit that happened with Max and Isobel, all the stuff with your dad. Everywhere I look in this town has been tainted by bad people and bad choices.

So you know what they say, new year, new start.

I might go to Vegas and try my luck there. Or Texas. It’s not as far but at least I’d fit in. Or maybe I’ll just leave America completely! Europe sounds nice and I bet it isn’t just miles of sand.

I used to wish we could leave together. I’d save up enough money and as soon as you got out of the Air Force we’d just leave. It wouldn’t matter where, just anywhere away from this town. And we’d probably run out of money and it would be an absolute disaster but that would be okay because at least we’d be together.

I don’t think you want that though Alex, I think you’ve already moved on and that really hurts. So maybe I should just move on too.

Enjoy the new year with your boys.

Michael

Without reading it over, he folded the paper into an envelope and sealed it before he could second guess anything.

In the morning he wouldn’t remember what the letter said, but he’d post it anyway.

November 2016

Roswell always did go all out for Veterans Day. There were banners hung in every building, flags flying proudly from every window and it was as though every Roswell born member of the Armed Forces - past and present - had returned for the annual celebration. All except one.

The evening’s event was held at the drive in, organised by the one and only Isobel Evans-Bracken and that was the only reason Michael was there. To support Isobel and that’s it.

This day was hard most years. The constant reminders of Alex everywhere he’d go, the odd sighting of Jesse Manes being thanked for his service when that man was the entire reason for Alex’s absence.

He had always believed that he would get used to it the longer Alex was away. The town was very pro-military and there always seemed to be some parade or other so the constant reminders should have made him accustomed to the feelings it brought up.

But wishful thinking strikes again.

And this year seemed to be the worst of the lot.

He and Alex had hardly spoken all year and the letters he did receive sounded like Alex was just checking if he was still in Roswell more than anything else. He never quite worked out what gave the airman the impression that he would be leaving anytime soon.

To be fair though, all of his replies had been short and vague with a rather blunt tone that he couldn’t help. A small part of him knew that he was pushing Alex away and it was screaming at him, begging him to stop, but he didn’t listen. Unfortunately, when he was hurt his self preservation kicked in big time.

Grabbing another beer from the cooler, he took a seat next to Max on the back of the truck and watched as Master Sergeant Jesse Manes took to the stage to give a speech about duty and sacrifice and how those who had lost their lives had done so proudly in the service of their country.

It made him wonder if Alex would feel proud in his last moments. If the worst happened, would he be glad to die for his country or would he be afraid? Would he be filled with fear as he lay in the dirt, cold and bleeding, waiting for help that wasn’t going to arrive on time? Would he be with his team, surrounded by love and friendship and people begging him to be okay or would he be alone? 

Or maybe it would be quick. A swift bullet to the head or heart. A nice clean shot and a point to the enemy. There one minute and gone the next.

Would Alex even feel it?

Would Michael?

As the townsfolk and various uniformed men and women began clapping loudly around him, his mind was brought back to the present. Manes gave a wave to the crowd as he ended his speech and passed the microphone over to Isobel to announce the evening’s agenda.

As she listed the live music and entertainment that was in store, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on her words instead of the thoughts circling his head. He didn’t know why he still cared so much. Alex wasn’t Michael’s to protect or worry about. Not anymore.

Michael had moved on and maybe if he drunk enough tonight, his heart would finally believe that and his mind would stop reciting the latest letter that had arrived at his door.

Dear Michael,

We were shipped off to Baghdad two months ago.

I wasn’t going to tell you because I don’t want you to worry and it’s not fair for me to force this onto you when you’re off living your own life now. It’s just a lot has happened on this tour already and I’ve been getting this feeling that I should probably let you know that I’m here.

All things considered, I’m actually quite lucky that this is only my third deployment bearing in mind how many years I’ve been serving. I’ve heard stories about some people who are on tour after tour and I don’t think I’d be able to handle the never ending missions.

It turns out I must be quite good at my job though because the team I’m with requested me. They needed someone with my specialist skillset so I guess its rather flattering but it makes me think that this job is going to be harder than the others.

It’s crazy to think about how much I’ve accomplished since I first joined. Seventeen year old Alex would hate that I’m still here but I guess he didn’t know the world like I do now. I still think about him sometimes though, the rebellious kid who wore too much eyeliner.

I know I don’t say it much but I’m really grateful for the time we spent together back then. And since then. They’re some of my favourite memories.

But I’m glad you’ve found your own path in life. You have a job that you love, a place to live that you can call your own and friends and family that you can always turn to.

I hope everyone is okay back home. I hope you’re okay. 

And more than anything, I hope that you’re happy. It’s what you deserve and I’m sure one day you’ll find someone who sees that and makes you even happier.

From, 

Alex.

He hated that Alex was back there.

And he hated that the letter sounded like a goodbye.

February 2017

Dear Alex,

I know it’s taken me a while to reply. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I’ve just been thinking about everything that’s happened and I didn’t want to say something I would regret. You’d probably tell me that I was overthinking and I’d dramatically disagree of course. But you would be right.

I’ve been thinking a lot about where you are right now and all of the bad things that could happen. I’m not going to go into how many soldiers have died over there because I’m sure you know more about it than me, just make sure you’re not added to that list, okay? I haven’t acted like it recently but it worries me that you’re somewhere so dangerous, so please be careful.

I know we’ve drifted but I still care about you Alex so I need you to be okay. I’ve been distancing myself from you these past few years and I’m sorry for that. I thought you were pushing me away so I did all I could to push you away first. I know I can’t change that now but maybe it can be different going forward.

It’s been almost three years since I last saw you in person and in a weird way it feels like yesterday. Three years sounds like a long time but looking back, it’s flown past way too quickly. So much has changed since then. I see Sanders occasionally but I haven’t worked at the junkyard in years, Isobel is married, the Wild Pony has starting having open mic nights and the Crashdown has gained about ten new milkshakes.

But I suppose the one constant is that you haven’t been here. You’ve been off being an American hero and that’s such an incredible achievement. You’ve travelled to places that I will never go, accomplished things I will probably never understand and been involved in so much that I can never know about. 

I’m sure it hasn’t always been the positive experience that people make it out to be, but I’m so happy you’ve been able to make something of your life.

You’re probably on some super secret mission right now with your little carefully selected team, but if you’ve got a minute, let me know that you’re okay.

Michael

July 2017

Alex hadn't answered. Five months and four goddamn letters and Alex hadn't answered a single one. And Michael was pissed. 

Well, first he was terrified. He had made up all manner of excuses. Maybe the letters got lost in the post. Maybe Alex was too busy to reply. But the never ending weeks of radio silence soon left Michael thinking the worst.

He had scoured the news headlines for any reports of American deaths in Iraq, he checked the obituary lists for any updates and he kept an ear out for any locals discussing the untimely death of Alex Manes.

He didn’t want to find out but he needed to know the truth.

Maria hadn’t mentioned anything in the many nights he had spent drowning his sorrows at the bar, so he took that as a good sign but then again she could just be as in the dark as he was.

After a while though, when no bad news had surfaced, he accepted the sad fact that Alex had chosen not to reply.

That the man he once loved had read his letters and hadn’t cared enough to respond. That he’d read the carefully selected words that conveyed Michael’s love and gratitude and worry. That he’d held the paper in his hands, each letter more honest than the last, and had decided to leave Michael hanging.

And if it proved one thing, it’s that he was right to stop waiting for Alex. 

He had woken up that morning missing Alex desperately. Missing his face, his voice, his laugh, his words. But when, once again, no letter arrived, his anger tore through as he finally decided to face the cold hard truth that had been waiting in the back of his mind for weeks.

Their relationship had been going downhill for a long time and now the airman had clearly made the choice for the both of them. Alex had ended whatever it was they had going on and so now Michael would do the same.

That night he went to sleep, vowing to never think of Alex again, so painfully unaware that Alex, now with half a limb cruelly taken from him, had read the letters. In fact he'd read over every letter in his metal box, mourning the end of their relationship with each one. 

Waking up in the hospital bed five months ago he'd seen his future. The future filled with therapy, physio, phantom pains, decreased mobility, the constant awkwardness from other people. And he refused to burden Michael with that. His beautiful cowboy deserved so much better.

Soon the letters would stop completely and Alex would accept that because why would Michael keep trying when he was receiving nothing in return? And maybe they’ll never see each other again and maybe they’ll never reconcile, but that would be okay because at least this way, Michael would be free.

December 2017

It was two weeks until Christmas and Isobel was on his case about a present. Why do you have to make my life difficult, Michael? You’re the only person I haven’t bought for, Michael. Can you find some actual hobbies so that I know what to get you, Michael?

The queen of organisation was getting very stressed at the mere thought of having to do any last minute shopping but how would Michael tell her what he really wanted for Christmas when obtaining it was impossible?

And yeah, yeah, he said he was going to stop thinking about him. But let’s be real, that was never going to happen.

Instead he drank. A lot. And gambled and hooked up with pretty girls and committed enough petty crime to make Max consider a very early retirement.  

Anything to get his mind off Alex. But as blissful as the forgetting was in the night, it always came flooding back in the morning. Because every morning he woke up and stared at the compartment where the box was stored and every morning it reminded him of Alex. Well, no more.

Sitting on the edge of the bed as he tried to ignore the cold winter wind raging outside, he made the decision to move it. If he hid it away and promised himself that he would never look inside again then maybe, just maybe, he would finally move on.

Standing up was a choice he instantly regretted as the room spun slightly and the sun blaring in through the newspaper covered window immediately fuelled the hangover burning behind his eyes. But as soon as everything settled he wasted no time in opening the compartment and taking out the box.

His fingers were itching to lift up the lid and peek inside but that would only make it harder. Instead he clamped the sides tightly in his grip and headed straight for the closet.

It was ironic really, hiding Alex in the closet - a thought that only came to him as he was opening the door - but it was the only place in the tiny hamster cage of a home where it would be safe from prying eyes, Michael’s included. 

There were a pair of boots at the bottom alongside some old clothes Max had given him years ago and a cardboard box of blueprints, photos and spaceship pieces he had yet to take to the junkyard.

He lifted them out easily and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor next to where he was kneeling - they had been shoved in the bottom of a closet for god knows how long, they could manage a bit of manhandling.

With the space now empty, the shoebox went in first, being pushed as far into the corner as possible before he gave himself the chance to change his mind. The larger box went back in next, taking up the remaining floor space, then the boots and bag of clothes were thrown in afterwards. As long as they didn’t fall out, he didn’t care where they landed.

As he closed the door his phone rang and looking at the caller ID the timing couldn’t have been more perfect as he’d finally thought of an idea for what Isobel could buy him.

Because why spend your own money to fuel your drinking habit when someone else could do it for you.

March 2018

Michael was shocked awake by a loud thump. Sitting up too quickly, scrambling to get his brain in gear, he noticed Max standing on the other side of the cage with a large pile of files on the desk in front of him. That explains what caused the rude awakening then.

“Thanks.” He groaned, lying back down on the metal bench. His head was thumping and he was not in the mood for the conversation that was bound to follow.

“Is this gonna be a regular thing with you?” Max asked as he took a seat at the desk. The chair scraped horribly on the floor and it made Michael wince.

He stared up at the ceiling and took a few breaths before talking. He didn’t normally feel this bad after drinking but he’d forgotten to grab a bottle of acetone before heading to the Pony and it had been a long night.

“I thought you wanted to spend more time together.” He replied impudently after a moment. 

He heard Max sigh and could practically see him rolling his eyes.

“It’s not funny, Michael.”

“It’s a little funny.” He smirked, attempting to sit up again, groaning as it became clear how much his back hadn’t appreciated his drunk tank sleeping arrangements. Max didn’t even glance up at him from the file he was reading. “Right, are you gonna let me out or not?”

“Nope. Valenti’s just outside and she’ll know if I go easy on you.” 

Michael scoffed and debated just lifting the keys from the desk with his powers. Why did Max have to be such a rule-following little Deputy? It was as if Max was the mind reader of the trio though as he grabbed the keys without looking and put them straight into his pocket.

“I’m just trying to help you.” Max gave him a pointed look that Michael just wanted to punch right off his face sometimes.

“Like always…” Michael muttered under his breath.

“I’m surprised Maria hasn’t barred you yet. You cause her more trouble than it’s worth.”

“The fight wasn’t even that bad, everyone just overreacted. Besides, the other guy totally started it.”

Max shook his head as he got back to his work. Michael wasn’t lying, he hadn’t started the fight, he had just been rather eager to join in. Sometimes punching things felt good.

Max was clearly not letting him out anytime soon and it was well before noon so no-one was expecting him to be at work for a good couple of hours. He could try to negotiate his freedom but Max had this whole save Michael from himself agenda going on recently so it would probably just be a waste of breath.

Instead he could take the easy route and catch up with a bit more sleep.

June 2018

“Quick Alex, run and tell your daddy.”

Michael instantly regretted his words the second the door had closed behind him.

But he hadn’t seen Alex in four years, hadn’t heard from him in months. He had every right to be angry. Right?

Except he wasn’t angry, not really, that was just a façade he was forcing forward to help protect himself from the heartache threatening to break through. He never could stay angry at Alex for long.

Looking through the shoebox filled him with a cautious kind of hope. Just because Alex was back didn’t mean anything was going to change between them but Michael just couldn’t help it.

He sat on the floor for a while as he read over some of the letters, his legs getting cramped in the small gap between the bed and the closet. He had forgotten how happy the earlier letters were, the ones sent before Alex had had a chance to experience combat. They had both been so young back then, so unaware of how life would turn out.

Once he was finished, he left the shoebox on his desk, feeling too nostalgic to put it back in the closet but not yet ready to commit to the overhead compartment again. Thoughts of Alex followed him well into the afternoon of the next day and they didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. Twenty-four hours since Alex had been standing right in front of him and he had completely fallen for the airman all over again.

But that couldn’t happen. He couldn’t let Alex in again. Not if it was just going to end the same way.

So when Alex approached him at the reunion, suggesting that he had turned his trailer into a meth lab, Michael did all he could to put the wall back up again. He was sarcastic and aggrieved and did his best to rile Alex up. You trying to hold my hand, Private?

And when he shoved past Alex he pretended to himself that it felt good.

But the heart wants what the hearts wants and all evening his eyes kept being drawn back to Alex. He barely noticed the girl at his side as he watched Alex smile politely and engage in conversation with people they had both gone to school with and when Alex ducked into a side room, he couldn’t stop his feet from following.

Watching Alex check his prosthetic broke Michael’s heart. He wanted to ask a million questions, how did it happen? When did it happen? Does it hurt? Are you okay? Alex was walking on it, albeit with a crutch, so it must have been at least a year since he was injured and Michael had been oblivious to it all. Although an entire year of unanswered letters were suddenly provided with a devastating explanation.

To lose a limb must be unimaginable, but whatever had caused it, Michael was just so glad that it hadn’t taken all of him.

He leaned against the doorway as his eyes roamed over every part of the man in front of him, taking him in completely. His beautiful face that Michael was desperate to put a smile on, his soft hair that had grown since he had last been home, the checkered shirt that looked so much more Alex than the uniform, the way he glowed under the coloured lights.

They had both been through so much this past decade but Alex was back, potentially for good this time, and Michael was about to dive headfirst into the possibility of them rekindling whatever it was they once had.

“Nostalgia’s a bitch, huh?” He spoke up, hoping beyond anything that Alex wouldn’t walk away. He allowed a gentle smile and when Alex dropped his leg to the floor and faced him properly, he felt his heartbeat quicken.

Alex took a moment to reply and when he did his face gave no hints as to whether he was happy to see Michael or not. “I thought for sure when I got back from Iraq you would be long gone.” 

“Is that what you want?” Michael avoided eye contact, suddenly not wanting to witness the moment Alex turned him away but still, he walked closer.

“We’re not kids anymore.” Alex whispered, the words catching in his throat, and still Michael kept walking. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

They were so close to each other now, barely an arm’s length away from touching and the close proximity gave Michael all the courage he needed. He drew his longing gaze away from Alex’s eyes to his soft lips and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

One moment they were two separate people and the next they were crashing together like waves that had been parted for an eternity.

Michael’s entire body tingled, the feeling of Alex’s palm on his back, Alex’s lips against his own. He was hardly aware of what his hands were doing, cupping Alex’s face and pulling him closer, hungry and intense and desperate to reclaim what they had lost. He barely breathed as the rest of the world fell away until it was just them in their intimate, almost forbidden, moment.

His anger at Alex and his year long desire to banish any thought of him was long forgotten. He was back, he was here and Michael didn’t ever want to let go. 

As they parted, foreheads still touching, Michael couldn’t bear to take his eyes off the man in front of him, convinced that if he closed his eyes for even a second it would all disappear. The moment was so perfect, part of him felt like he was dreaming.

Their relationship over the past decade had been a complete rollercoaster but now, feeling Alex pressed against him, Michael was convinced that things would be different now.

And maybe, just maybe, there was hope.

The End.

Thank you for reading ❤️✨

[lovingmyselfcore]

Protect You Chapter IV

Oh my god I did it. I wrote a thing for this thing!! You guys are def getting other writing things from me this week but idk what it'll be bc apparently my brain is god and works in mysterious ways (is that offensive?)

Significant lack of Cardan today and I apologize for that but he will deffo be in the next part (if you've read the end of this then you know)

Chapter IV; Some Attempted Breaking and Entering ft. Nicasia being Nicasia and I hate her :)

“Ow,” I deadpanned.

Oriana looked up at me, mouth pinched at the edges, “Jude.” She had the way of saying my name (always has) that perfectly conveyed her distaste at my existence and scolding me for whatever I had done.

We were in Vivi and I’s apartment, Oriana had me propped on the counter while she adjusted my sling and bandages. Every time she saw the injury she grimaced in disgust, which meant that was her only current expression.

“When Vivi does this it’s much quicker,” I muttered, crossing my ankles and swinging my legs against the counter.

“Well, Vivi has had weeks of doing this for you.” Oriana pulled the bandage tighter and my ‘ow’ wasn’t deadpan anymore.

I didn’t think she was going to speak again but she did, “Training,” She scoffed. “I can’t believe you injured yourself so severely.” She looked up at me, “But at least it wasn’t a gunshot wound. At least your life isn’t as dangerous as that.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. Lying always has been my specialty.

Oriana pressed her lower body into my legs to keep me still against the counter. “Stop banging, you’re going to dent or chip it.”

I rolled my eyes and her grip tightened on my arm before she released me entirely.

“All done.”

I rolled my shoulder as best I could, “Great.”

Oriana stepped back and I hopped off the counter. Grabbing my jacket and slinging it over my available shoulder I called back to Oriana, “I’m going to work, Dain needs me.”

I was two steps from the front door when Oriana caught me by the shoulder. “Tayrn’s engagement party is tomorrow night,” She said it like I hadn’t been thinking about it since it was announced.

“Don’t worry,” I grinned at her, “I’ll be there to make everyone’s life hell.”

~~~~~~~~

“Jude,” Lilliver waved her hand in front of my face. “You’re spacing. Everything good?”

“What? Oh, yeah. It’s just…”

“The party.” Garrett said, matter of factly.

I gave him a look. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well lucky for you, you’ll be spending the whole time on a job,” Garrett said. Van and Lilliver winced.

“What?” I asked, meeting Garrett’s eyes. He didn’t flinch away from the harsh edge to my voice, the undoubtedly even harsher look in my eyes.

“Dain wanted us to tell you,” Van said, raising his voice as the music caught a crescendo.

We were in some day club that was clearly only for rich people. Sitting at a table tucked in a dark corner, watching as Dain mingled amongst the crowd. Shadows in the shadows, I mused. Weirdly appropriate.

I wasn’t sure who it was, but someone had rented the place and filled it with the highly respected, feared, higher-ups. Dain had heard about the event and invited himself, using the situation to make connections, and further the ones he already had.

He’d dragged us with him, of course. It was 11 at night, I was supposed to be curled on the couch with Vivi, eating ice cream out of the tub and watching Criminal Minds or beating up the punching bag in my room until my knuckles had split, even through the bandages and I couldn’t feel my arms. It depended on my mood.

But Lilliver had called me, said Dain needed his shadows, and that Garrett was waiting outside my apartment building. He had been. I have no idea how he got my address, but I’d refused to let him be my ride. He was too unpredictable, I couldn’t give him that blind faith. So I’d yelled to Vivi that my bike was out of gas and I needed hers and I’d pay her back for the miles, took her keys, and trailed behind Garrett’s car. And now, here we were.

I was nursing a glass of whiskey, mostly to calm my nerves as I followed Dain with my eyes, watching everyone who got too close to him.

“You don’t think anybody would try anything?” I’d asked when I got here, sliding in next to Lilliver in the booth.

“Someone’s done it before.” Van had muttered grimly.

I arched a brow, “What happened to them?”

Van just looked at Garrett, who was eyeing everyone and everything like they all had guns and were about to start shooting people.

I got the message and hadn’t inquired further.

“What does he want me to do?” I asked now.

“Locke’s a friend of Cardan’s.”

“I’m aware.”

Garrett rolled his eyes and I glared at him.

Resting my forearms on the table and leaning forward until I was closer to Van I said, “But Dain isn’t worried about Cardan taking the power, is he?”

“No.”

“But,” Lilliver cut in. “Locke has been seen with Madoc and Balekin. Being with Madoc isn’t that weird-”

“Yes, it is.” I interrupted.

“But Locke is going to be Madoc’s son-in-law. How is that weird?” Garrett asked, tearing his gaze from Dain.

“Madoc hates Locke, he isn’t very happy about Taryn marrying him.”

“For what he did to you?” Van asked.

I snorted, “You’re overestimating him. Nah, he just thinks Locke is a stuck-up prick who doesn’t deserve everything he has.”

“Fair,” Lilliver murmured and I nodded my agreement.

“But Balekin?”

I shook my head, “You don’t know Madoc like I do. If he’s talking to Balekin and it’s not about just security stuff? It can’t be good. Throw Locke into the equation and anything could happen.”

“Great,” Van drawled with an exasperated eye roll.

“So, Jude,” Lilliver asked after a moment of silence. “You have a good outfit, right?”

~~~ A few hours later, I was sitting on my couch, crossing and uncrossing my legs, waiting for Vivi to be finished getting ready.

“Viv!” I yelled.

“Patience is a virtue!” She screeched back from the bathroom.

“Anybody that has time for patience is wasting their life,” I muttered to myself, trying to relax back into the couch unsuccessfully.

I was too stiff all over, shoulders tight, leg muscles straining as I dug the soles of my heels into the carpet as if trying to keep myself on the ground. I curled my fingers into the plush cushion of the couch.

I was wearing a gold dress and matching heels, a small handgun strapped to one thigh, a knife on the other. The slits up the legs of my dress would allow me to retrieve them but kept them hidden enough from prying eyes.

Vivi was taking too long. I rose slowly from my place on the couch and walked to the bathroom. Some Taylor Swift was playing from the Bluetooth speaker perched precariously on the windowsill and Vivi swayed to the beat, slivers of dying sunlight curling in through the window to wind around her gold curls. She was touching up her mascara so she didn’t look at me when I entered.

“I know I’m taking forever, but you should be thanking me for not making you go too early.” I rolled my eyes and leaned against the doorway, not saying anything in response.

Suddenly Taylor’s voice cut off as Vivi’s phone rang. “Can you get that?” She asked me, but I was already reaching for it. I had to twist my arm half under her upper body to get to the other side of the countertop but I eventually reached it and glanced at the caller ID.

“Heather,” I said.

Vivi looked away from the mirror to blink at me and I took that as my cue to answer.

“Hey, Heather,” I said.

“Jude?”

“Yeah. Vivi’s busy being narcissistic so you get to talk to me instead.”

Heather’s laugh sounded like a fairy. “That’s alright, you’re not bad to talk to.”

“Thanks for lying to me,” I replied, leaning against the doorway again. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I just knew the engagement party was soon and figured I’d talk to Vi now before she gets too drunk to do anything.” I snorted, “That’s a very fair assessment. We would’ve been at the party already but Vivi is taking forever.” The last word was louder and Vivi stuck her middle finger up at me without even turning to face me.

Vivi finally set down the mascara wand and turned to me with her hands on her hips before making a toddler-esque grabbing motion.

“Well Vivi’s finally done getting ready, but she wants to talk to you.”

Heather snorted, “Nice. Well, have fun at the party, Jude.”

It was my turn to snort.

Heather’s voice got softer, “It’ll all be fine. You don’t have to stay for very long, and maybe you can find something to distract yourself with.” Oh, I have something to do, alright.

“Thanks,” I muttered before handing Vivi the phone. “Hey, baby,” Vivi said immediately and I shook my head. She stuck her tongue out at me before turning away and I took that as my cue to leave the bathroom.

~~~~

I was physically unable to stay still.

Vivi and I didn’t own a real car, so we’d called an Uber, and sitting in the backseat, I was doing everything but stay still. Vivi kept side-eyeing me when she glanced away from her phone, but she hadn’t said anything.

I was bouncing my leg, tapping a rhythm on the door of the car, the seatbelt, the seat below me, my arms.

Vivi paused in her texting, probably to Heather, to clamp a hand on my knee. It didn’t do much to actually stop my movements but it got me to look at her. “Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not,” I said stiffly and turned away.

Vivi sighed and took her hand off my knee. “You can talk to me, Jude.” She whispered.

I didn’t respond.

~~~

Locke lived in a mansion. I’d been there before but it was still impressive. What took away a bit of that was that I knew he hadn’t worked for it. He was just a rich kid, born and raised. Like all the others that had looked down on me my entire life.

He fit in with Cardan.

Vivi thanked our Uber driver as we stepped out of the car onto the winding stone pathway leading up to the front door.

As the car sped off Vivi linked her arm through mine and yanked me forward to start walking to the door.

“Stop looking at the house like it murdered your cat,” Vivi muttered, her arm tightening briefly around mine.

I tried to school my scowl into something more neutral. It wasn’t easy.

“We’re here for Taryn,” Vivi continued, “You might not even have to see him, or them together at all.”

I nodded mechanically as my eyes drifted to the window on the second floor that I knew belonged to Locke’s bedroom. Would he keep his secrets locked in there? Taryn could get in there, so maybe not, but it was worth a shot.

Some servants pushed open the door to let us inside and Vivi and I froze in the doorway. It looked like some kind of fancy 1800s ball, but with smaller dresses.

“Is that Elowyn?” Vivi whispered. I followed her gaze. It was, indeed, Elowyn Greenbriar in all her glory, perched near a huge window as if preparing to leap out and make a run for it soon. She was eyeing everyone with that look of judgment that seemed to be a Greenbriar birthright, looking more expensive than Locke’s mansion itself.

“I didn’t think she and Locke were that close.”

“It’s not just her,” I realized, as my eyes fell on Cealia, who was worming her way through the crowd of people to reach her sister.

But Vivi had noticed something else. “Nicasia’s here,” She hissed. “And she’s headed this way.”

Vivi and I’s arms were still linked so I tugged lightly and dragged us deeper into the house and crowd of people, effectively disappearing from Nicasia’s line of sight.

I wasn’t ready to deal with her quite yet.

I breathed deeply through my nose and snatched a glass of champagne off a tray nearby, scanning the room.

How could I slip away and snoop without being detected?

“Hey, Jude.” I tightened my grip on my flute of champagne and turned to face Nicasia. Her expression wasn’t pleasant, so I didn’t bother trying to act pleased to see her, either.

“Nicasia,” God. Why did she have to be so pretty, a long, flowing dress that was so many different shades of blue, I couldn’t even count them. It looked like it was tailored to fit her-it probably was, actually. It rippled as she moved, like ocean waves on the shore. Her hair was loose for the most part, aside from a few intricate braids woven in that she had curled around a single finger.

She plucked the champagne from my hand and sipped leisurely. It made my blood boil.

“I figured you’re one of the few people who hates being here as much as I do.”

I grudgingly nodded and her answering grin was sharp.

“Why are the Greenbriars here?” I blurted before I could think better of it.

Nicasia blinked at me before responding. “Because they’re Greenbriars. They do whatever they want when they want.”

It wasn’t a real answer and I had a feeling that she wasn’t just being difficult; she didn’t know, and hated that she didn’t know.

Well, Nicasia and I had something in common.

“Are they all here?” I asked.

She shook her head, “Balekin was here for a total of fifteen minutes before he vanished somewhere,” She gestured vaguely, lips turned down in disgust. “I haven’t seen Dain anywhere, but the girls are here. And Cardan,” She added, pretending like it was an afterthought.

My gaze automatically shot into the crowd, taking note of every face. But none of them were Cardan.

“Do you love Locke?” She asked scornfully.

“Do you?” I shot back, like we were third graders.

She rolled her eyes, “I’d rather crawl naked over glass.”

“Then you have my answer.”

She just looked at me for a beat

Nicasia drained the glass and thrust it back into my hand. She gave me a final judging once over before strutting off in the other direction.

~~~~~~ The next half hour was nothing but mingling; I had to make it clear I was here, that I supported this. After Nicasia had left me alone, I gritted my teeth and dove into the cage of hungry sharks.

I slipped back into the darkness, listened to aristocrats talk to each other, pretending they were all above each other and felt the weight of the gun shifting under my dress; the cold metal pulsed like it was branding me.

I pretended I was one of them; the lies felt warm and comforting on my tongue, honey on a warm summer afternoon.

The realization hit me like a truck: I couldn't entirely blame this on the Shadows' crash course training these past few weeks. I had always had the capacity for this; lying and manipulating and scheming came as effortlessly to me as breathing. I had been born for this. The thought should've been terrifying, but it settled beneath my heart, caged in my ribs with a comforting weight that couldn't be ignored.

“Excuse me,” I murmured and slipped away from the group I’d been attempting to charm.

Balekin hadn’t resurfaced and I wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d left the party entirely so as I slid along the walls of the second floor of Locke’s mansion, I kept my ears and eyes tuned to catch any and all movements.

Locke’s office.

Yes!

I glanced around, feeling like I was in some kind of cliche mafia movie before attempting to turn the door handle. Locked. Okay. Not great. I could work with it though.

Being Madoc’s daughter and Vivienne Duarte’s sister gave me access to an arsenal of weird abilities to use in a pinch.

I reached up to my hair before remembering I didn’t pull it up, so I turned my attention to my clutch, hoping there was a bobby pin or paper clip or something in there.

I’d let my guard down.

I heard his uneven steps coming towards me too late.

“My sweet nemesis,” Cardan slurred. “What do you think you’re doing?” ~~~

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@ladyofbloodandroses @cultofvamps @itsmentalbreakdownhours

[offtopicoverload]

Disney Princess - 3

i told you id get it out anon, didnt i? but legit, so sorry this took for fucking ever, i get distracted :)

Chapter 2

M Rating (i bumped it up cuz of drinking? am i meant to? and no warnings)

Aurora x f!MC (Rylen Damen) (if you haven't been here in a while, i changed mc to an oc, but same personality)

~3k words (not super long, but i got a jump on chapter 4 so that should be out soon)

Read on Ao3

-

Aurora Emery is relieved.

It's strange. Very strange, the way her shoulders feel less tense and the way her thoughts are less clouded as she winds through Edenbrook’s halls, steps light as they lead her to Harper Emery’s office. She adjusts her coat outside the door, smoothing out the lapels delicately before stepping inside. 

Harper’s sorting through papers on her desk, only glancing up as Aurora sits across from her, palms flat on her thighs to quell her nerves. There’s tension lingering in the air, thick as it attempts to weigh down Aurora’s shoulders, attempts to counteract the result of the trial.

The pair sitting across from each other haven’t spoken since the fight in the atrium, the only communication being a brief, agitated text. Aurora’s foot begins tapping beneath the desk, muted by the carpet resting under her feet as the silence drags on and on and on and on.

“What did you need?” Aurora rushes out, her anxiety getting the best of her as her fingers twitch in her lap.

Harper glances up from her paperwork momentarily, meeting Aurora’s gaze, then sits back in her chair, hands folded atop her desk. “I thought it best we discussed what happened earlier,” she answers coolly, the slightest irritation in her expression.

“What’s there to discuss?” Aurora counters, squirming in her seat slightly.

Harper sits up, straight as an arrow, with tense shoulders beneath her coat and fingers knit together, resting on the desk. “If you’re not happy with me, Aurora, I’d like to know how to fix that.”

A sigh sinks Aurora’s own shoulder, sinking her further into her chair, “Aunt Harper -”

“Aurora,” she cuts her off gently, “I never want you to resent me or hate being around me. If that’s starting to happen, I want to correct it and be the best aunt I can be.”

“It’s just -” Aurora’s shoulders slump, any fight dissolving from her. “It’s overwhelming. When you give me as many assignments as you can, just to spend twice the time to keep you updated and involved. It’s exhausting.”

Harper nods along, falling quiet. Her hands find a pen, twirling it, twisting it between idle fingers. She nods again, more resolute this time, “I’ll try to step back some more, give you space.”

“Are you going to go back to practicing?”

She sighs, “Aurora…”

“You’re not happy sitting in this office, I know it,” Aurora frowns across the desk, folding her arms in defiance. “You’re always upset when you get home and take every opportunity to do some real work.”

“This is real work,” Harper frowns right back.

“No, it’s not.”

“Aurora…” she warns, eyes flickering with growing anger. “My career does not concern you.”

“And mine doesn’t concern you, but you’re still involved.”

“Then I’ll stop being involved. We can cut ties entirely, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s not what I said,” Aurora bites out.

Harper sighs, her head falling into the cradle of her hands as a quiet permeates the office, mingling with the leftover irritation. “I think you should move out,” Harper finally says, not moving.

“Why?” Aurora’s asking before she can help herself, surprise widening her eyes and dropping her jaw.

“Being this involved in each other’s lives isn’t working, Aurora,” she gestures uselessly. “I love you, but we’re both adults and don’t need to be getting into petty arguments.”

“So I’m getting kicked out?” Aurora asks indignantly, her expression some odd combination of frustration and betrayal.

“Of course not! Just - Let’s take a step back, okay?” Harper attempts to gesture placatingly, waving her hands down.

Jaw clenched tight, Aurora spits, “Fine,” standing quickly and exiting from the office, letting the door fall closed with a thud. A nurse glances up from across the hall, and she barely musters as scowl before hurrying down the corridor. Her hands mess with her coat, adjusting neurotically as she navigates the winding halls. 

She’s not quite sure where she’s headed, just that it has to be far from her aunt’s office and the woman still sitting within it. It has to be far away from the nagging voice in the back of her mind, telling her she just can’t handle this workload, she’s not cut out for it. It has to be far away from the anxiety that sat heavy in her gut in the hearing, an inexplicable bubbling of nerves.

Her feet eventually lead her to a waiting area, where family members and patients awaiting treatment sit, the air heavy. A woman’s sniffling in a corner, a few tears escaping just to be wiped away by the tissue in her hands. A young boy plays with a toy car on the floor, a teenager keeping watch over him a few feet away. A man sits with his hands clasped tightly, knee jerking anxiously with wildly roving eyes. There’s a dozen stories within this room alone, each wrought with upset and grief.

And that’s why she’s here, why she’s dealt with that workload for so long. Why she felt that anxiety tug at her over Edenbrook’s fate. Why she wants and needs the best for herself, her aunt, the staff as a whole. A notification shakes her phone in her pocket, and she tugs it out, finally tearing her eyes away from the stories before her.

It’s from the other source of that anxiety, the person she was dreading seeing go most, purely because Rylen can help these people just as much as she can. ‘I know you’re allergic to fun, but everyone’s heading to Donahue’s tonight. Figured you might wanna come :D’

She frowns down at the message, glancing up at the waiting room one last time before turning down the hall, typing as she goes, ‘Only for the drinks.’ It’s an easy, comfortable quip, one that comes without trying.

Grey dots pop up in a single second, a chime quickly following, ‘Of course. I’d never presume it’d be for me, Princess ;)’

Aurora rolls her eyes at the emoticon, sending out a response as she arrives at a nurse’s station, leaning against it idly. ‘Good.’ Her grip slackens as she stares at it, one finger tapping the side of her case, a slow, steady beat, while her lips twist to the side. ‘And good job, Damen.’

‘Thanks.’ It’s quick as usual, and even without the smiley, Aurora knows it's there, reflected in Rylen’s own device screen.

Now, to survive the last of her shift - headache-inducing patients, stacks of paperwork, gossiping coworkers and all. She straightens up, exhaling deeply and setting her shoulders, teeth gritting in determination. 

---

Aurora arrives to a bustling bar, attendings and interns alike shouting and drinking, dancing and laughing loudly. A few glance her way as she cautiously steps up to the bar, ordering a beer as quick as she can, but she doesn’t bother with them. Once the bartender moves on, she slips through the thick crowd, finding a small, empty booth in the back corner.

She slumps into it, pulling her phone out just to occupy her time. She taps open the message that’s been waiting for her since she left Harper’s office: ‘I’m sorry if I upset you, but you should be more independent.’

With a huff, her phone slams against the table, and she chugs back her drink, leaving the booth for another. And another. And another.

“You came!” a joyful voice chimes, earning a short glance from Aurora.

Her attention quickly snaps back to where it’s been occupied lately, apartment listings she doesn’t have much interest in. “You always did like stating the obvious,” she grumbles. “You don’t have to check on me, by the way. I’m used to being alone.”

Beer sloshes in its bottle as Rylen slumps into the booth beside her, glancing over Aurora’s shoulder at her screen. “You moving?”

“Yes. And you’re nosy.” She slides away from Rylen, who puts even more space between them. “I’ve been staying at my aunt’s place all year, but we both think it’ll be good to have some space.”

Rylen nods enthusiastically, slouching back against the seat to look out over the bar. Elijah and Bryce are cheering on Sienna and Jackie as they down a row of shots, Sienna’s arms raising in victory when she slams her last glass down. “You know… we have a room opening up,” Rylen’s elbow nudges Aurora, a mischievous light in her eyes as they meet Aurora’s.

Aurora eyes her suspiciously, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yeah,” Rylen’s smile somehow seems to grow, glinting as she picks at the label on her beer bottle. “I mean, I have to ask my roommates but… it’s not like we can afford the place on our own.”

Nodding, Aurora turns to her own drink, tapping her nails against the side in contemplation. The faint sound can barely be heard through the bar’s sounds, but it’s enough to focus on, to drown out laughter and music to.

“Think about it,” Rylen’s nudging her again, pulling her back to Donahue’s. She glances up, finding Rylen smiling softly as she stands, gripping her beer loosely in her palm.

Aurora nods, still tapping lightly, “...I will.”

---

Rylen appears before Aurora’s eyes, collapsing across from her with a thud against the booth’s cushions. “So’ve you thought ‘bout it?” Her arms fold on the tabletop, chin resting on them as she gazes up with bright, shining eyes.

Blinking, Aurora looks up, setting her phone down and eyeing Rylen and her flushed, red cheeks. “About…?”

“Moving in! Duh!” She grins, not a hint of trepidation, of reservation, all teeth and deep smile lines. Her head lolls to the side, cheek pressing into the fabric of her shirt, “So…?”

Aurora sighs, rolling her eyes, “Maybe. I need more than a single night.”

Bottom lip jutting out in a pout, Rylen tries her best to be irresistible, “Boo. You should just say yes.”

“Why do you want me in your apartment anyway?”

“Okay, so,” she sparks to life, jerking upright as energy overflows from her. “One:” she flicks a finger out, leaning over the table. “We need help paying rent. Two: We know you, and strangers are weird. Three: You’re pretty cool and we all like you already.”

“Really? Even Jackie?”

“Well…” Rylen’s voice pitches up as her head bobs in consideration, “She likes the help with rent, but she’ll come around. Swear it.” She draws an ‘x’ over her heart, slumping against the back of the booth.

Aurora only shrugs, picking her phone up again to occupy her hands and mind, “I still haven’t decided.”

Rylen hefts a world-weary sigh, her shoulder rising and dropping dramatically, “Fine. But decide soon or we’ll have to find someone else.”

Aurora nods, attention already returned to her phone and the scrolling of her email inbox. Across from her, Rylen falls quiet, gaze wandering distractedly, seeming to snap onto anything and everything.

Abruptly, her gleaming eyes fall back on Aurora. “Gimme your arm,” her hands reach across the table, keeping their distance but waiting expectantly, palms upright. 

Aurora obliges without thinking, allowing Rylen to carefully take her wrist, pushing her sleeve up her forearm, fingers barely brushing her skin. A shiver ripples down Aurora’s spin before she shakes it away, schooling her expression into distant curiosity, “Why?”

“Just checking you haven’t broken out in hives.” Rylen smiles easily, thumb brushing Aurora’s wrist unconsciously, light enough to send goosebumps breaking in a tidal wave.

“I’m not actually allergic to fun, you know,” Aurora barely manages a glare, her attention continually slipping back to the fingers still tracing random patterns on the inside of her wrist.

“Can never be too careful.” Finally retracting, Rylen’s hands fall to her lap, and despite the heat of the small, crowded bar, Aurora’s skin feels colder for it. Her goosebumps disappear, and she retracts her own arm, fidgeting with her glass.

She avoids Rylen’s eyes, staring into the random cocktail she ordered intently. “Don’t need your concern.”

“Everyone needs my concern.” Rylen doesn’t react to the slight edge in Aurora’s voice, the unspoken warning to keep her distant, like a snake’s rattle, “I have great concern, you’ll see.”

“I’m sure I will,” Aurora’s teeth grit together, grinding ever so slightly.

The corner booth falls silent as Rylen watches her carefully, watches her race the rim of her glass and stare at the colors inside. “...If you really don’t want to be here, you should go.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Aurora’s dark eyes flicker up, finding an earnestness in Rylen’s she hasn’t seen since that day in the supply closet. It’s not unwelcome either, it’s reassuring as Aurora takes in the crease between her brows.

“Never,” she shakes her head adamantly, “Just don’t want your night to suck.”

“I’m fine,” Aurora shrugs awkwardly, picking at one of her nails. “But thanks.”

“‘Course,” hazel eyes crinkle as Rylen smiles, nearly squinting with the force of it, and Aurora can feel herself relaxing under the full brunt of that smile. The spell breaks as Rylen stands, “I’ll go but lemme know if you need anything,” tapping the table in a short burst before sauntering off.

She joins a group by the bar, throwing her arm around a giggling Sienna’s shoulders as Bryce speaks animatedly, Kyra interjecting periodically. Occasionally their laughter and shouts manage to float over to Aurora’s corner, and every burst of Rylen’s voice draws her eyes.

It’s late when Donahue’s finally starts emptying out, loud clusters of doctors filtering out the front door, most a little uneasy on their feet. One of the interns spilled a drink on another earlier, their raised voices effectively ending the night for most.

Aurora’s nearly slipped out behind a few of the quieter attendings when someone stumbles into her from the side, arms wrapping around her waist as a face is buried in her shoulder. Dark hair tickles her nose as she glances questioningly to the culprit, beaten to the punch by a mumbling against her, “Thanks for coming. Even just for booze,” before she’s released, a flushed, very drunk Rylen leaning against Rafael for support.

He smiles kindly at Aurora before carefully putting his arm around the woman waving to her and leading Eylen away, down the street after their other friends. Tugging her jacket tighter, Aurora turns the opposite direction, scanning the cars for the ride she called thirty minutes prior.

---

Aurora’s keys jangle as she unlocks her apartment’s front door, dropping them on the nearby tabletop before shrugging out of her jacket, bag still slung over her shoulder. She stretches her back, pops sounding as she stalks further into the apartment with a sigh, head bowed in exhaustion.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming home at all.” Harper’s voice rings from the kitchen, her arms folded on the countertop.

Gaze snapping over to her, Aurora straightens up, “I went to Donahue’s. Damen invited me.” The response is quick, nervous as she stares down her aunt, the very same aunt she fought with twice today.

“Rylen? I heard about that.” Harper speaks over her shoulder, crossing the kitchen to scavenge in the fridge. 

“Yeah,” Aurora shrugs, crossing her arms beneath her chest awkwardly. “There were a lot of staff there.”

Harper pulls out a water bottle and an orange, messing with them idly as she bumps the door closed with her hip, “Did you have fun?”

“I guess. It was pretty typical.”

With a nod, Harper snatches ibuprofen off a counter, stepping up to Aurora and depositing the items in her hands. She smiles softly, squeezing Aurora’s shoulder as she steps past her, before disappearing down the hall, “Take care tonight.”

Aurora blinks down at the things in her hands, somewhat surprised by the peaceful interaction. She follows a beat later, juggling the objects until she can dump them on her bed, door slammed shut behind her and bag dropped to the floor. Staring up at the ceiling, she listens to the quiet, dark apartment, and the bustling of the city outside, blocked from her by a closed curtain tonight.

A buzz sounds, an increasingly familiar buzz. Aurora jerks upward with a sigh, grabbing her bag and rifling through it until she finds her phone case. Her screen appears blurred as it lights up, and after rubbing her eyes, she opens it to the expected message.

‘Thnks agan  . drunk but youre a perfct princess :DDDDFDD’

Typing slowly, carefully, Aurora crafts her response, still grinning at the virtual smile she was gifted. She smiles too much when she’s been drinking, but maybe Rylen deserves it more than most. Or maybe she’s drunker than she thought. ‘You’re a pain but the drinks were good. Thanks.’ she finally settles on.

And with that, she puts her phone on silent, plugs it in across the room, nearly collapses into her bed, and begins messily peeling her orange in little pieces. A half hour later, she’s tucking into bed, eyes fluttering shut with the image of Rylen’s loopy, relaxed smile branded on her eyelids.

[sweet-cynical-writer]

Author's Notes: On top of not writing as frequently, I wrote two fics. This one will be the sequel to the previous fic, “I couldn't care less.” I haven't written this much before but it likely won't happen again anytime soon.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.7k

Additional Notes: Another thank you to @soukokuwu for proofreading! I'm not used to anything more than 500 words so the help is appreciated!

Fresh air and a clear sky.

You can already feel that today was going to be better than yesterday. What’s more, you were on your way to your favourite little flower shop in the corner of the city near the bay. You were planning to surprise your sweet new boyfriend with this spontaneous gift of a bouquet.

With a little hop in your steps, you made your way down the all-too-familiar stone pavement. Once in, your eyes sparkled at the sight of red camellias. It was perfect to express your desired message: “forever mine”. 

You were about to reach out for it when someone else’s hand bumped yours. You drew yours back and apologised out of instinct, thinking you must’ve upset them.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you—"

Your heart skipped a beat the moment your gaze flicked up to meet the man in question. The surprise you felt made you take a few steps back. But then a comforting voice played in your head.

“Hey, don’t worry okay? If you ever feel panicked just imagine me beside you, holding your hand, just like this—” you felt a warmth around your palms— “and then take a minute to collect your thoughts before saying anything.”

He was your saviour in more ways than one, really. His words only reminded you of how patient he was. Kind, caring. A vast difference to how your old relationship was. You were better now. Way better than before. But now you found yourself looking your past in the eye, in its — Dazai’s — chocolate brown eyes. 

The corners of your mouth upturned into a sweet smile, and now it was his turn to flinch.

"It's alright. I was only looking. I don't really have flowers to buy anyone." 

What was this ache in his chest? And why did it only appear the moment he saw you? You were just another woman on his list, just another number he conquered. So why was he feeling bitter now that you seemed… happy without him?

The silence that surrounded you two was unnerving. It had been quite some time since you broke up, since he broke your heart. But thinking of the days that came after that — it was good. Life had been good to you. You had spent a huge fraction of your time bawling over him, until you realised it just wasn’t fair. How could it be when you could spend all that time to better yourself rather than being miserable over that bastard?

"I heard from Atsushi that you're doing well. I'm guessing you found some happiness after all?" The way he said it — so pointedly, sharp, leaving no room for negotiation. Much like pointing a dagger to your throat. It was a rhetorical question. Dazai already knew. He always knew.

But no, this time, you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand. You weren’t going to let him bask in the glory of steering everything in his direction. No, this time, you knew who you were. After all, your boyfriend’s words kept ringing in your head. No more grudges, no more spite. 

"I took time to myself and found my footing again. Atsushi told me you haven't been doing too well.. is everything okay, Osamu?"

For a moment you thought you saw a hint of malice in those dark brown eyes. 

"Everything fell apart after losing you. I tried to fill the hole inside me that you once filled so perfectly. And so sweetly too. I never realized how much you meant to me until you stopped calling out to me one day."

There he goes again, using such honeyed words to cast another spell on your fragile heart. Or rather, your once fragile heart. But not anymore. Part of you would always care for and love Dazai. But your intimate love for him ran dry like a dozen roses left out in the hot sun to wither.

And he could tell. He always could. He knew how your love for him, what he thought he had control over forever, was gone. He knew, just from your gaze, how you were looking at him like an old friend, nothing more. And the next few words that fell out of your rosy lips hurt him like thorns in his heart. 

"I'm so sorry you're not well, Dazai. Truly I am. But I found happiness and I really hope you’ll find yours. Besides, you're free now. I really hope you’ll find it."

His happiness after you had been short-lived. After only a few parties did he notice how much he missed you. The way you would pick him up after he had a drunken night out, and cooked him hot meals to wake up to. Those light feathered kisses you trailed along his neck to gingerly rouse him from his slumber. 

"Well, maybe you could embrace freedom with me sometime?" 

It felt satisfying to have Dazai being so smitten towards you. Where Dazai used to always rule your heart, it was now only filled with your boyfriend. An image of crimson locks flashed in your mind and with a deep smile you shook your head, picking up the bouquet of camellias to leave.

But a sudden embrace from behind stopped you in your tracks. 

"Let me at least see you again."

You knew what the old you would think. She would be anxious, questioning everything, each possibility. Things like: should you keep in contact with your ex even though it’d create problems with your current boyfriend? She’d think there was a chance that Dazai had changed for the better. But she’d also have to consider if he was just manipulating her. And that if he was, she’d lose Chuuya. She’d think that she could end up all alone again. She’d shiver at the thought of that. 

But the current you? The one Chuuya loved with every fibre of his being? He loved you strong, he made you whole again when you never thought it could be possible. And you loved him all the same.

When he caught on that you weren’t moving, Dazai released his grasp on you. Did he scare you? Was it too much? 

"Hey.. are you okay—"

You pulled away and turned to face him. “Be brave, stand tall, but most importantly, don't lose control.” Chuuya's words rang in your head and you regained composure.

"You know.. it's funny how you miss me more than you could ever love me, Dazai. I may have forgiven you in order to move on.. but I did it for me, not you. I'm happier with Chuuya now. You had that chance already."

The tears were building up in your eyes and you had to turn away to not let him see. You didn’t want him to misunderstand. This was just the closure you never got, the hurt you never got to feel when he so abruptly left you. He would see this as an opening, not a close. He would try to snake his way back into your life, and you didn’t want that.

With that, you forced your legs to move forward, to move away from him. To move on from your past. It was hard — to say goodbye to someone who had once meant so much to you. That would explain the constriction in your chest, making it hard to breathe. But you knew that better things would be coming. And that made it easier.

***

A few minutes away from the flower shop — there he was, waiting for you by a bench. Right on time, never late. It was a small gesture to many, but to you it meant the world. He was a busy man, a Port Mafia executive, and yet the one person he would turn the world over for — it would only be you.

You ran over to him, your hands wrapped around his neck and his own snaked around your waist. You caught a whiff of the sweet cologne you had gifted him as a present after the first month together. This familiarity, this comfort, this warmth. It could never get old. You’d never felt this way. And it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else. 

Both of you didn’t have to say a thing, and yet you both knew what the other was feeling. It was something special you shared with Chuuya, and only Chuuya. This bond was what you cherished the most. With him, you didn’t have to keep second-guessing anything, not his actions, not his words. He never tried to push you into anything, unlike a certain someone. Even now, when you were sobbing slightly. Chuuya never pushed you to explain. 

The two of you walked home hand in hand, with you offering him the bouquet only then. You had smiled, and your dried tears had made tracks on your skin. He accepted the bouquet, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. 

"My sweet love.. these are perfect. Let's get you in a better mood hmm?"

Once you were home, you let him take you by the hand to the bedroom. Chuuya knew you preferred to be pampered before talking about what was on your mind. You just needed to relax. 

He began peppering your face with kisses. It made you giggle — how soft and gentle the way his lips pressed against your skin. And the way his fingers twirled your hair playfully felt comforting. Especially the way he would lean in and whisper every kind of doting compliment he could think of. 

"You're so gorgeous, my love. I'm the luckiest man alive to have an absolute sweetheart as my lover."

There was a loud buzz coming from the nightstand on your side of the bed. Usually, you would check it yourself but Chuuya insisted on looking at it for you since he was closer. He peered over and the caller ID read Osamu Dazai. 

"Who is it, Chuuya?"

He silenced your phone before turning his attention back to you. Chuuya ran his hand down your shoulder to take your hand in his. 

"Nothing important. Let's continue where we left off, my love."

You wanted to check for yourself but quickly shook the urge off when his lips locked with yours. Chuuya was right. No matter who it was, it didn’t matter. Right here, right now, only he did. You fell into his love, fell into the way his lips pressed against yours. You drowned in him, and you thought only of him. 

And this ocean, this one you called home, you would happily drown in. 

[ivyglow]

Every breaking wave - Anthony Beauvillier NYI

Author note: Hope you guys like it! Also, a huge thank you to Naty ( @tsarinablogs​) for prooreading this piece. <3 

Word count: 2.2k (I got carried away lol)

Request/prompt:  #3 with Tito, soft/angst please 😘

Warnings: mention of death of a loved one and cursing. 

#3 “I’ll go home, but it’s not home unless you’re there...”

It was the middle of a calculus class when her phone started vibrating inside her purse. Y/n ignored it at first, she had just texted her boyfriend and everyone knew better than to call her during classes, but they had this thing that two calls would mean it was urgent. So when the phone went on again she startled in her seat, navigating through her things until finally reaching the cellphone.

It was not that hard to leave the room unnoticed since everyone was pretty much engaged in an argument about some questions the professor had introduced that morning. She made her way to the bathroom and finally took a look at her phone, seeing that the two missed calls were from her mom.

She froze for a few seconds.

It was the middle of the night in her home country. Why would her mother call her this late?!

Praying that the call was not that serious, she clicked on her phone to unlock it, but then it started vibrating again.

“Hey, mom,” y/n greeted, feeling a little warm just because she was being able to talk to her mother. It was not easy to leave her parents, her friends, her whole life behind in France and fly to attend college in New York, a matter of fact it was lonely at the beginning, but y/n was a sweet person and she knew how to captivate people around her. “How’s it going there? Is everything ok?” she asked.

The breath her mom let out made the line crack, but worse than that was the silence that followed right after.

Something was wrong and now she was sure. She just couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Maman,” she whispered like the action would soothe things, “parle-moi s’il the plaît.” (talk to me, please)

“You need to come home,” her mother’s voice was strangled like she was holding back something...like she was holding back sobs.

Y/n didn’t have to be a genius to imagine what was probably happening. The fact was, she did not want to believe what came into her mind first. Not that many things would make her mother call her during class, tell her to drop things in college and fly back to France. Usually, her parents were the ones who came to see her in New York.

“Maman, why do I have to fly back home?”

Normally, when you ask someone a question you expect an answer, but y/n didn’t. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t even want to think about it. And her mom’s silence told it all.

“I want to talk to my papa, please give him the phone,” she whispered like it was the last amount of air inside of her body because it felt like it.

“Je suis désolé, chérie” (I’m sorry, darling) and now her mom was finally crying, an almost silent cry, but y/n could hear it anyway. And that, that was what her mom was holding back since her first words in the call, she was holding back tears. “I didn’t want to give you this notice through the phone, but...there was no other way.”

“Maman, please tell me I'm wrong, tell me you’re trying to tell me something completely different.”

Y/n’s hands were cold, the phone pressing to her ear felt hot and so did the tears that were making their way down along her cheeks.

“He’s gone, baby.”

And that’s all it took for her to finally break into sobs, not silent tears, not cold hands, but loud and painful sobs.

She didn’t even care with someone walking in, all y/n could think about was her father. He would not be there to hug her at the airport, to teach her about French art or to talk about deep subjects.

“Baby, go home with some friend, please don’t stay alone, don’t...”

“I...I got to go, mom...,” she breaks the sobs trying to get back to her normal breath, but failing. “I need to...let the truth sink in,” and possibly let my heart break, too, she thought.

“I’ll call you later, take care, okay? I love you and so did he.”

He did. Not longer does, because he isn’t here anymore. She whispers an answer to her mom and tries to wash her face and look a little less desperate, but well, it’s almost impossible not to look devastated when the person you love the most has just died.

Y/n walked back to class only to take her bag. Anne, one of her friends, sent her a look full of worry, but y/n just ignored it, leaving as fast as she arrived.

Her sense of direction was gone as she struggled to find the way out of the building. She didn’t want to go back home, she didn’t want to get into a cab like in the state that she was in. Hell, she probably wouldn’t be able to get money out of her purse and opening it meant looking at her ID, seeing his name written on it, seeing his last name beside hers, it meant to remember that he would become just a name.

Y/n started walking in the busy NY streets, trying to get to one of her comfort places in the city which didn’t involve calling someone. And the more she could hear her footsteps, the more the reality begun to sink in.

It felt like it took her heart with it and now she was walking in it, crushing every connection of the so-called muscle.

He would not be at her graduation or call her to ask if Tito was being the gentleman he promised he would be when they first met. Everything she had planned to do with him in the future was now gone.

When y/n finally settled down in one of the many parks in New York she fell into the grass resting her back at a beautiful three. It wasn’t even a bad day, the sun was shining timidly in the sky, some birds were flying around and the smell of nature in that piece of space was comforting, yet it felt like the most frightful.

The time went by while her mind seemed to stop. Y/n never in her entire life felt this kind of pain, not even when she went skate with Anthony, fell and broke her ankle.  

When the sun started to set she finally took notice of the time. Tito was supposed to pick her up just like he drove her to school that morning. It was their routine, him leaving for the rink almost the same time, so she always got a ride, and the same went for when he was returning home. He usually knew that if she didn’t call him, she would probably be at the library, otherwise she would text him telling that she’s in the coffee shop nearby. They always come and go together – it was something that was supposed to strengthen their bond since the chaotic life of hockey and college didn’t do much to help.

He is probably freaking out, she thought, as she opens her messages and only sends him her location. He would know, he would come, he always understood.

And y/n was right, it only took him 15min to get there. Probably he was already around the area looking for her. The only thing she was capable of was hugging him, spending her last bit of energy by bringing him close.

“Ça va, bébé” (it’s ok, babe) he whispers, tangling his fingers into her soft curly hair. It broke his heart to see how devastated she was. When she tried to speak, no words came out and he stroke her hair soothingly.

Anthony already knew, being good friends whit her parents. Always having them in his house when they came to NY had its perks. Her mother called him telling she was worried and he should take care of her like never before, so he cried for her dad in the afternoon while trying to reach her. Anthony and her dad had been friends and it was not news that he was expecting to receive so soon.  

“I’m here, I’m here…,” he reassured her while taking her purse and helping her stand. Her jeans were stained by grass and sand. Once they got to the car, he buckled her up and gave her a bottle of water.

Y/n spent the whole ride to their apartment in silence while Anthony held her hand. The city became a blur.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” she whispered as they were making their way inside the apartment.

“Babe, we’re here for each other remember? You did nothing wrong,” Tito hugged her. “I’m the one who’s sorry. You know he was so proud of you, huh? He still is, wherever he is.”

“Why couldn’t he just be proud of me from here?! Ce n’est pas juste.” (it’s not fair)

She almost could hear her mother saying, “life it’s not fair at all, sweetie”.

The player shrugged while walking her to the kitchen, sitting her down at the counter.

“You know... I believe everyone on earth has a mission and once they’re done with this mission, it’s time to go,” he spoke calmly while she tried to focus her attention on his words. “That’s how it works for everyone, no exception. I see it as a reason to why some people survive to accidents, even when it seems impossible to do so. Their mission wasn’t done yet,” Tito explained while looking deep into her eyes.

It was comforting, having him to look at her with those big bright eyes. They had never shared these things before, it was nice to hear him say it.   “You’re going to miss him so much, but some of the things he has done will never ever leave your heart,” he assured.

She bit her lips while looking at her shoes. “I’m afraid I’m going forget what he looks like, what he sounds like... I’m sad my kids won’t be able to hug him in the future as I once did,” y/n finally confesses. It sounded silly in her head, but Tito had this thing... he could make people around him feel like their questions and problems were never too stupid.

“You will always remember what it felt like to hug him him, how his skin was your favourite pillow as a baby... you may never be able to turn it into words, but deep down I know you will never ever forget him. We don’t forget the ones we love,” he whispered the last part. “And it’s a shame our children won’t be able to hug him, but we’re going to tell them about him, they’re going to know what a great grandfather they would have had though he’s not here with us anymore.”

Y/n took a deep breath, making grabby hands at her boyfriend. He always knew the right words to say. He knew how to reach deep inside her soul. And at that moment she knew that, for sure, she would never ever forget Beau.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, babe” Tito tightens his grip, “always.”

He let go of her, only to start making dinner for them. Once he was done, they headed to the bathroom and he took his time washing her hair and quietly talking, while trying to make her feel as loved as possible. She changed into her favourite hoodie of his and they ate dinner in the living room while some cartoon was on in the background.

She took some time doing nothing at all and then decided to start packing. She needed to buy tickets, tell her mom the flight time and so many more things...

“You know…,” she started while putting some clothes at the suitcase, “I’ll go home, but it’s not home unless you’re there…” Beau smiled brightly even though there’s a hint of sadness from all the events of the day.

“I’m going to need your help to pack, too,” he said, “I already booked our tickets, the flight leaves in the morning.” “Wait...you’re going?” she straighted up dropping some blouses in the process. “But you have practice and…” “I talked to the coach before I left” he explained and she raised a brow, curiously. “your mom called me.”

“You don’t have to, you know?” she kept her eyes at her nails. “But I want you to come, if you can.” “I’ll be with you for three days, then I got to head back and I’m going to train during the weekend, so I can cover the days I missed,” Tito grinned lightly. “But hey, it’s home, there’s always something good in being home again.” “Thank you so much” she whispered, trying not to cry anymore. She had already shed too many tears for the day but the simple act of kindness and love from him warmed her heart.

“You’re one of my missions,” he stood up from the bed going for a hug, “to love you, to care for you. I’ll always be here.”

“You’re my home and I don’t ever want move on,” she whispers before leaving a pec on his lips.

Everything was a blur and one of the most beautiful cities felt horrible, but his hugs, his words, his love are still the same. She could still feel loved and safe. She was at home after all.