#then both my mom and dad died in the middle of working on it. uh. yeah

[monstermonger]

Aaa... it's been a while since I talked about The Messenger.... this funny little comic I was working on...

For those curious, I'll have something written up tomorrow about what's up and my finalized plans for it :") I hope you'll like the direction I take.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1105: The Girl and Her Soup Dad (Epithet Erased)

9:34 p.m. at Crusher's Living Room........

Tv: ('SMACK') Anyone else wants a piece!?

Molly: (Sitting Next to Giovanni on the Sofa) I would kill to have a Grunkle like that in my family tree.....

Giovanni: I'd kill to have him and his cool looking punchy things in his knuckles. Those things must've cost a fortune to own.

Molly: Those punchy things are brass knuckles, Boss, and those things only cost thirty to forty dollars to buy. (Lays her Head Bext to Giovanni's Arm) Though knowing Grunkle Stan, I wouldn't be surprised if he stole it from a store somewhere.

Giovanni: (Eyes Starts Litting and Sparkling Up) He would've been an EXCELLENT member of our newly found crew! ('Sighs in a Bit of Defeat') If only he was real......

Molly: (Turns to Giovanni) You still haven't come up with a name for our team?

Giovanni: (Sighs Again) Not yet I haven't. Every time I come up with one it would always come out lame and weak. (Ball his Fists Up in Determination) I want our name to sound powerful, menacing, something that would be remembered and feared to those who DARE tries to cross us! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!.......Also, I want us to look more cool than we already are. (Puts on a Bright, Dopey Smile on his Face)

Molly: (Giggles Softly) I'm sure you'll come up with something~ You're not our dastardly boss for nothing, you know?

Giovanni: Damn right! But no boss is complete without the help and support of his lovely boyz, you especially, Beartrap. (Ruffles the Top of Molly's Hair)

Molly: (Giggles Ticklishly) Thanks! I'm really glad to be here. Which reminds me....

Giovanni: Hm?

Molly: Do you, Crusher and Spike wanna go out and do something tomorrow? Maybe go to the movies theater and watch that Elemental movie you wanted to watch.

Giovanni: Sure thing. Ooh! Can we finally try out that Family Discount plan I've been working on? can be the dad, Spike can be the mom, you and Crusher can be our well mannered kids, hell, we can even have four eyes play the role of the nerdy middle child who has less love and attention!

Molly: (Pouts at Giovanni) Boss!

Giovanni: What? He's a nerd himself most of the time.

Molly: Yeah and he's also as equally as loved as the rest of us. No pretend family member left behind!

Giovanni: Alright, alright. We'll give him equal love .....(Forms a Bit of an Evil Grin) Not before embarrassing the hell out of him first~

Molly: ('Sigh') Just don't go overboard, okay?

Giovanni: No promises!~ (Frowns a Bit) But uhh....Molly?

Molly: Yeah? What's wrong?

Giovanni: Father's Day's also tomorrow. Are you gonna be okay by then?

Molly: Uh...Yeah, I think so? Why wouldn't I be?

Giovanni: Just making sure. I don't want you to think of it as a constant reminder of you know who.....

Molly: Who? Martin?

Giovanni: Yeah- (Eyes Widened a Bit) Wait. You're....calling him by his first name now?

Molly: Kind of? (Turns Away a Bit While Rubbing her Arm) I'm still debating if I still want to call him my dad or not.

Giovanni: (Scoffs While Crossing his Arms and Turning Away) I'd personally wouldn't give him the time of day and call him Fatso. (Turns Back to Molly While Giving her a Small, Reassuring Smile) But whatever you want to call him is alright with me, Beartrap.

Molly: Thanks, Boss. But....('Sigh') I dunno. This is starting to get more harder I hoped it wouldn't be. On one hand, we're blood related and he was decent parent when mom was still around.

Giovanni: But you feel like everything between you guys never been the same after that.

Molly: Exactly! Ever since mom died, he became more lazy, irresponsible and has little to NO care about anything or anyone around him! Meanwhile, I always ended up doing everything around the store and clean up after him and Lori while they're out in their own lieteral make believe land without a SINGLE. THANK YOU! (Let's Out a Frustrated Groan as She Crunches her Hands Up I Front of Her) It's infuriating, I hate them both!

Giovanni: (Gently Places his Hand onto Molly's Shoulder) I know you do, kiddo, and I completely get where you're coming from in all of this. But you don't have to see or think about him or your sister anymore if you really don't want to. You still have tons of years being a kid to look forward to before adulthood comes and wring it's dumb, ugly head around, am I right?

Molly: (Starts Giggling Once More) Dumb amd ugly are understatements~ (Takes a Deep Breath Before Speaking) But yeah, you're right. I don't feel like seeing dad or Lori anytime soon, but I do have a whole life ahead of me right now waiting for me take part of, and I'm gonna enjoy every moment of it with the people I truly care about. (Happily Hugs Giovanni's Arm) That includes you too, boss~

Giovanni: (Chuckles Lightly) That's the spirit, Beartrap! We got your back every step of the way, you can count on it.

Molly: (Happily Nodded) Right. Thanks for listening and letting me ramble on about my problems yet again. I know it's getting redundant at this point.

Giovanni: Nah, don't worry about it, kiddo. If anyone's deserving of letting their anger out, it's definitely you. I just hope it helps you feel a better.

Molly: Oh it does. I doubt I'll ever be over it completely, but I'm glad I was able to get it out of my chest for now.

Giovanni: Good, good. (Starts Ruffling onto Molly's Hair Some More) Can't have our pretend baby girl get mad all night before tomorrow comes~

Molly: (Giggles Ticklishly While Swatting Gio's Hand Off her Hair) Will you quit already, soup dad!?~ I just got done brushing my hair for the rest of the night!~

Giovanni: Soup Dad?

Molly: Yeah. You make soup and you've been acting more or less like a dad as of late. (Smiles Brightly) Put them together and I myself the coolest Soup Dad I could ever ask for.

Giovanni: (Heart Begins to Melt in Pure Happiness) Awwwww~ You really are a sweet kid, you know?

Molly: And you're the sweetest, evilest boss ever. (Gives Gio a Kiss on the Cheek) Happy Early Father's Day, Giovanni.

Giovanni: Thanks, Molly. You too.

@aprilbrowines

[gyubby99]

@disneyanddisneyships I JUST THOUGHT IT WAS CUTE

Emma opened up the door, revealing her father's office. With multiple cameras, every technology that has existed since he came in hell. The screens showing the surveillance of every part of the house, and a big screen in the middle. It was safe to say her father had fully embraced modern technology, and is evolving it with every year, every decade, every generation..

It was one of the things she admired about him.

"In here.." Emma said, whispering to her friend who was walking beside her. The doors slid themselves shut once both of them were completely inside.

"Whoa.." Theodore gawked at the sight. He'd never seen so much technology in his life!

"This is my dad's office. This is where he does his work, obviously. But.. this is the place where he keeps all the information he puts out to the public. Everything. He can corrupt, manipulate and control what everyone sees. He also has his own products that shows up on tv whenever they can." Emma stated, before turning to smile at Theodore.

"He never let me in here as a kid, until one day I accidentally got the door password right and I went in to touch his stuff. I broadcasted frog pictures all throughout hell because I love them.. and dad instantly found out I did it. For one, he wouldn't broadcast random stuff, and two, he knows I liked frogs. He and Mom scolded me for it. I thought it was funny!" She laughed.

Theodore laughed as well. "Yeah, I remember that. Your dad was so angry! Even dad was confused about it."

Emma grinned. "All of them were confused."

Theodore chuckled, smiling fondly at his friend. He just liked her enthusiasm when she talks. She made everything exciting.

Emma looked around the office. "You've gotta admit. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Theodore stared not at the office, but at her. "Yeah.. it's very beautiful." He found himself saying, his eyes fixated on her face.

Emma looked up at him, making him snap his head at one of the screens. "I mean.. I've been to my dad's radio studio.. it isn't anything like this."

"Classic radio demon. Sticking to old time technology." Emma chuckles.

"You tell me." Theodore agrees.

Emma's mirth died down and she got her eyes off of him, her cheeks having a shade of pink. "Although.. old time radio's not that bad.."

Theodore smiles at her statement, his eyes still remaining on her. "So is new technology! I don't know what our dads are fighting about."

Emma giggles. "Hey, atleast our mothers get along swell!"

Theodore laughs as well. "Our moms' friendship led us to being friends, so.. I'm glad they do."

Emma stopped in her tracks, taking in Theo'd words. "I.. I guess I'm glad too."

Theodore's smile turned into a soft, warm one. He cast aside a bit of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. "Uh.. I hope you don't mind."

Emma blushes. "No, um.. I don't."

They stayed like that for a while, and the feeling of his hand brushing through her cheek made her stomach turn.

Emma looks away from him, upon feeling that. "I.. I promised myself that one day.. one day I'm going to be the one to sit and work at this place. I'm going to be just like him. An overlord. I want to be able to lead the next generation's technology."

"That's ambitious!" Theodore says, putting his hand in his pocket. "I don't even know what I wanna be yet.."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out!" Emma put a hand on his shoulder, smiling reassuringly, a warm.. friendly gesture.

Theodore couldn't stop looking at her. Her red eye.. her voice.. her hair.. her smile..

He didn't know why, but it was probably just because he cared for her as a friend. They did grow up together despite the feud between their fathers.

Theodore smiles. "Thanks, Emma."

[hello-there-world]

so. thought about the MCI's families in the Rewrite. so have my fun headcanons!

Naomi's Family:

hardworking upper-middle class family.

her parents work a lot, so they seem rather distant. they do love their daughters, though.

Susie and Samantha are her younger sisters. Samantha was born a couple of years after Naomi died, though.

they kept promising to get Naomi a dog, but kept putting it off due to not having much time. they were, however, planning to get Naomi a dog before school started back up.

her parents didn't talk about her too often after she died, mostly because it was a sore subject for them.

they did get Susie and Samantha a dog, though! a golden retriever :]

if the girls ever went somewhere without their parents post-MCI, they'd usually make sure that Susie and Sam stayed together. a bit annoying for Susie, but she didn't mind too much.

the girls didn't learn about Naomi and what happened to her until sometime in the mid-90s to early 2000's. they barely even knew she existed.

i mean...technically they met her ghost in the Fnaf 2 location...but still. they didn't know who she was, much less that she was their sister.

Gabrielle/"Gabi's" Family:

not...the wealthiest. they're getting by just fine, but they don't have a lot of extra income or anything.

her mother is Mexican and her father is black. they had gotten together sometime in college, and they had twins first. several years later, they had Gabi.

alongside the twins (Mia and Martin, who were around 14-15 when Gabi was murdered), Gabi has a baby brother (Leo) who was around 4 when she died.

most of Gabi's more feminine clothing came from Mia as hand-me-downs.

the Franklin-Martinez family were close to the Aftons because of how close Gabi and Liz were.

they tried to tell William "hey, uh we think two of your sons might (cough definitely) have severe anxiety issues, and maybe getting them medicated for that?? would be good actually?? i mean, we did it for Gabi, and while nothing's perfect, it's made a drastic difference in her life, so maybe it'll help Mike and Cass??" and William went "Nah, I think they're fine, but I appreciate the concern 😊"

so yeah, Rewrite Fun Fact: Gabi had anxiety meds. it's one of the reasons she gets along with Cass so well (both have horrible anxiety).

they were fucking devastated when Gabi disappeared. on her birthday no less.

the family never really recovered from it. when Martin finally had a family of his own, he named his daughter after her.

final fun fact: Mia and Martin were some of Alex's classmates, but they kinda. Fucking Hated him. understandable. they only tolerated him for three reasons: 1) for Liz and Gabi's sakes, 2) he's one of the few people that didn't deadname/misgender Gabi, and 3) They Aren't Getting On The Bad Side Of The Afton Family. They Just Ain't.

Baker (+ Jeremy)'s Family:

pretty well off! not exactly middle class, but not really struggling, either.

both Jeremy and Baker are AuDHD, but...to put it one way, it was much more obvious with Baker.

their parents were very loving, even if their dad had to work a lot.

Jeremy and Baker were really close, despite how far apart they were in age (Jeremy being in middle school and Baker not even starting kindergarten yet).

since Jere's mom had asked him to look after Baker due to the disappearances of Naomi and Gabi the day before, Jeremy blames himself for Baker going missing. he'd been playing in the arcade and told Baker to stay in the area in front of the stage and to not follow any strangers (unfortunately, "O'Hare" didn't count as a "stranger" to Baker). his parents, however, don't blame Jere for what happened.

Jeremy is of course our good old boy Mr. Fitzgerald, so...he has a Lot of plot things that i can't put here because then it'll be LONG, but have a few: Fnaf 2 Main Guard, Bite of '87 Victim, Beloved Husband of one Michael Afton, Father of two lovely boys (Cameron and Gregory), you get the gist.

Jeremy struggled with the guilt of what happened his whole life. i'd say he made peace with it around Pizzeria Sim, though.

Felix's Family:

he and his Dad...they're doing their best!

Felix's mom left when he was young. he's doing fine, though! (...kinda)

he and his dad are both Irish. he uses the accent to make his "pirate accent" sound more accurate.

Fritz drank a lot, but he was never abusive. he loved his son dearly, and he was trying his absolute best. sometimes, though, that...wasn't really enough for Felix (mostly because it meant Fritz was never there as much as Felix would've liked).

their relationship was a bit...strained. but they still loved each other.

Fritz actually witnessed Felix being taken and tried to go after him and William, but there were too many kids in the place, and he couldn't get around them in time.

(he knows it was William. there's no way in hell it wasn't. it doesn't matter if he claims to have an alibi, or if he claims that someone else could've fit in a suit that size using stilts; it's all bullshit. as far as Fritz cares, the bastard can rot.)

so...yeah. Fritz Smith and William fucking hate each other.

Kelsey (+ Andrew)'s Family:

uh...not doing so hot in the money department.

their parents are divorced, but they live with their dad (because their mom wanted to make some more money before she tried taking the kids).

their dad Fucking Sucks. physically abusive to Andy, verbally abusive to both, and he throws his empty beer bottles at either one of them.

Kelsey was technically "the favorite," but...that ain't saying much. it's pretty much code for "Mr. Schmidt tolerates this kid more than the other one."

Andrew stayed over at the Afton Household pretty often due to this. the longest he stayed over there for any prolonged period of time was for like. a month.

due to the concerns over the other missing children, and Mr. Schmidt wanting to at least pretend he was a good father, he pretty much sprung Babysitting Duty onto Andrew last minute. Andy wanted to go help comfort Jeremy after Baker's disappearance, but since Kelsey wanted to go spend time at Fredbear's, their dad forced him to take him to Fredbear's.

in Andrew's eyes, it wasn't fair. this always happened; he'd make plans, clearly state those plans, and then his dad would just! fuck them up last minute!

besides...it's not like anyone had gone missing at Fredbear's. only Freddy's. why would the killer suddenly switch it up?

so, they leave. Kelsey stays behind, drawing at one of the tables. he promises to draw a picture for Andrew when he gets back.

he was only gone for a couple of hours.

they were only gone for a couple of hours.

they find Kelsey's sketchbook and crayons, the promised drawing being on the open page. Andrew searched the diner top to bottom...nothing. Kelsey fucking vanished.

their father blamed them for what happened to Kelsey. he was supposed to watch him, after all.

and Andy internalized it. it was his fault. he blamed himself for it hard.

(Kelsey never did, though)

Andrew also inherited the alcoholism issues. so. Fun (sarcasm).

Mr. Schmidt tried to eventually reconcile with Andy later on, but...well, Andy was hesitant to fully let him back into their life after all of that (which included some homophobia and transphobia. Andrew is a demiboy and aroace, for context). but Andy was willing to give him that second chance.

Andy eventually gets better and starts going to therapy. good for them <3

Andy also lives with Mike and Jeremy and the kids. just thought i'd mention that. :]

anyway, my beloveds <3

Oh, god. The families are suffering. Poor Andrew, too. It's not his fault. Andy couldn't have saved him...

[karmic-vibes]

Two of Us

4 - Not Arriving, On Our Way Back Home

cw: implied mentions of rape

1987

Eddie ran down the stairs, wrapping the teenager in a warm embrace. Tears were brought to everyone’s eyes, Will excluded, as they saw the man who had been dead for over a year standing before them. Dustin was sobbing into Eddie’s chest, seemingly never wanting to let him go.

“I thought you died,” Dustin cried.

“Well, I didn’t, little man.”

“How, uh… how?” Steve bumbled.

“I don’t even fully know, man.” Eddie broke away from Dustin and quickly embraced Steve.

“I can try to explain it. Well, explain what I know. So, I don’t know how he got back from wherever the hell you guys were, but I was still in California with my daughter, and I got a call saying a family member of mine in Hawkins was in the hospital as a John Doe. His face was all bloody and distorted, his body was all chewed up… the only reason they knew he was related to me was because they did some blood-typing and matched him to my blood. Thankfully, they already had me in the system from when I gave birth.”

“How did he immediately not get arrested?” Dustin asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Eddie was wanted for murder.”

“Oh, that—yeah, we didn’t use his real name.”

“What?” Steve hummed.

“Do I have to spell everything out for you guys? God. I called our uncle and told him to claim Eddie as his son, not his nephew. We told the hospital staff that his name was Joseph Munson.”

“Perks of having a generic middle name,” Eddie chuckled.

“That’s something I’ll literally never forgive pops for. Fucking ‘Claire Josephine Munson’ absolutely stupid.”

“I like it,” Robin shrugged.

“Well, you’d be the first. Our dad just needed us to have similar names because we’re twins. Mom thought it was asinine, but she agreed to giving us similar middle names—Joseph and Josephine. But, uh, yeah… when he got better, he was released into Wayne’s care, but Eddie had too much PTSD from the trailer, so now he’s here with me.”

“Well, that explains the buzzed head.”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie sighed as he rubbed his shaven head. “I keep trying to convince Claire to let me grow it out again, but-”

“I told you, for the millionth time, I’m not going to prison for harboring a wanted ‘criminal’—even if you were wrongly accused, they don’t give a shit. The fucking hair stays short.”

“They already declared me dead, so not like it matters much.”

“He’s right,” Robin said.

“What do you mean?” Claire asked.

“If he was declared dead, and there’s a death certificate, then you’re no longer a wanted criminal. All charges become null and void when the person charged dies.”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah! I’m growing my hair out again!” Eddie laughed as he stuck his tongue out at his sister.

“I literally hate you.”

“Awe, c’mon, you love me.”

“Unfortunately,” Claire said, rolling her eyes, “I’m happy for you, stupid.”

“Mommy?” the little one whispered.

“Yes, sweet pea?”

“My homework is all done. Can you please check it for me?”

“Yeah, of course. Excuse me, guys.” Claire walked off to the dining room table with her daughter, going over the grade-school work.

“So, Munson, you’re a free-man—what are you gonna do?” Steve asked.

“Get my band back together, duh.”

“Really?” Dustin raised a brow, “not graduate?”

“Actually Henderson…” Eddie ran upstairs to his room, returning shortly after with a framed piece of paper. “Turns out, dying’s got some perks.” Eddie smiled proudly as he presented his (honorary) high school diploma to everyone.

“No fucking way!”

“Yes, fucking way! What’d I tell you, huh? ’86, baby… my fucking year.”

“Proud of you, man,” Steve said.

“Thanks, big boy.”

“Why do both you and your sister call me that? I-I mean, what’s the point?”

“To see you get flustered,” Claire smirked, “oh, Eddie, Edie’s ready for her lessons.”

“That’s my cue.”

“No way you named your daughter ‘Edie’,” Steve said.

“Only after the best,” Eddie smiled proudly.

“But… why?”

“I almost sorta died during labor. Eddie gave me a pep talk and never left my side until I woke up… as a thank you, I agreed to name my kid after him.”

“And her father didn’t have an issue with that?” Steve asked.

“He, uh… he doesn’t even know she exists.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be. You of all people, don’t be.”

“Why me of all people?” Steve raised a brow and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, Claire,” Eddie started, “why him of all people?”

“Don’t you have a guitar lesson to be giving a five-year-old?”

“But-”

“Go before she gets angry. She’s fucking terrifying when she’s angry.”

“Fine,” Eddie sighed.

He walked off to the dining room to collect his niece for her daily guitar lesson. The two made their way into the basement, that Claire had professionally soundproofed, and would then be missing for the better part of an hour.

“That little thing gets angry?” Robin pointed.

“It’s far and few between, but yeah, and I swear, you see your life flash before your eyes every time it happens.”

“So, Claire,” Steve interjected, “why me of all people?”

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to hate me.”

“Sure,” Steve shrugged.

“I was already pregnant when I slept with you.”

“Okay? And that matters because?”

“I was trying to use you as a scapegoat…”

“Are you fucking serious!” he yelled, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I realized what I was doing was wrong and I stopped! I was barely fifteen and fucking terrified, can you blame me?”

“You shouldn’t have gotten knocked up, then! Or-Or at least know who the fucking dad is instead of trying to ruin someone else’s life!”

Claire stood in her home in disbelief. Her jaw hung slack as tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Her chest became heavy as the air around her suddenly became thick. She struggled to breathe. Her cheeks heated up in anger and embarrassment—it took everything in her not to scream.

“Get out of my house,” she eventually whispered.

“Claire-” Dustin started.

“All of you, out!”

“What? Can’t eat what you serve? Y-You know, I was super excited to see you, to reconnect and hopefully build something here, but now all I see is a massive bullet I dodged.”

“I know who the dad is, asshole…” Claire spat, holding back tears. “I just didn’t want it to be him… I would have taken anyone, but him… I wanted my daughter to have a father because I didn’t want her to grow up like me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of talking to him again. I didn’t want, and honestly still can’t, tell Edie who her dad is… not because I don’t know, but because I think it would physically kill me to see him again.”

“Then why did you ever date him?” Dustin asked.

“I didn’t.”

“Okay, then why sleep with him?”

Claire sniffed as she pursed her lips and quickly wiped away a tear that fell from her eyes. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach as she anxiously tapped her foot and looked to the floor.

Her voice broke, “who ever said I wanted to?”

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

Hey didn't you have a wip based around donkeyskin? I think that was you at least! If it is please tell us about your idea I'm insanely interested in hearing about it! If that wasn't you disregard this. 😅

It was me, yes! Unfortunately I haven't worked on it for years, so there's not much else to tell that isn't on the blog already :')

Here's the post with the most info, but there are some, uh, hypothetical changes I made in the years since. Hypothetical because I haven't been writing anything down lmao. Just vibes. (Ironically I've been more interested in the Swan Lake retelling set in the same world, except Rothbart is the good guy, because I'm obnoxious.)

General WIP notes/ideas under the cut. For those who are not familiar with the Donkeyskin fairy tale, (attempted) rape and incest cw!!

Rosamund Trevelyan, princess of [Kingdom]

Super hot, uncomfortably hot

Mom dies, warning her Dad's kinda fucked up and she should get outta there fast like super fast

Dad declares that nobody is good enough for Rosamund and that nobody else is hot enough for him, so marrying his daughter makes the most sense (a lot of monologues about him worrying about his legacy, Rosamund's """womb""" and being super racist against elves, which is what we in the business call foreshadowing)

Nobles are terrified he might kill them so they go along with it despite thinking it's very icky, but also they kinda get it because Rosamund is just so hot

Rosamund asks for a bunch of nigh-impossible magical stuff, which the King provides because he's just very desperate for incest

Including the "taming" of a hyperintelligent magical deer who Rosamund quietly convinces to help her and it takes pity on her and sticks around for her escape

King attempts to assault his daughter one night, and she escapes prematurely on her magical deer buddy, but is gravely wounded (lands on a wrought iron fence from a two-story drop) and expects to bleed out in the forest

Is found by a crusty old man who nurses her back to health

Not sure if he teaches Rosamund any magic or not, the initial idea was that she'd become a druid and have magic that required her to carve runes into her skin and "tarnishing" her pretty face with permanent scarring, but I felt that her not having magic + keeping her pretty face but being scared of showing it would be more in line with the themes I personally find interesting of the original fairy tale

Plus I like underpowered MCs now because it forces me to use my brain more

Old man dies a few months later, and Rosamund isn't a farmer and can't live on her own, but she's learned how to cook and clean and take care of the old man so she figures she can probably become a maid

She's more practical and survival-oriented so she doesn't mind working despite being royalty

She's so terrified of being found by her father that she looks for work in elf country, disguised as a random human farmer lady

Is quickly found by a quirky half-elf who needs an assistant

Quirky half-elf turns out to be the assistant to Prince Castan Oleander, who's the middle son out of three brothers, but elves don't follow human lines of succession so him being both sensible and popular compared to his brothers means he'll likely inherit the throne

(His younger brother Hyacinth is a beautiful pink-haired useless sack of shit and probably will be the Beast in my BatB/East of the Sun, West of the Moon retelling)

Castan is suspicious of Rosamund but has more important shit to do than care about surprisingly eloquent human maids

The initial idea with the druid stuff was that Rosamund would convince Castan to teach her magic and that's how they'd develop a relationship, so I haven't been able to replace that with anything yet aside from maybe him finding her exploring the castle library and reading shit that's way beyond a farmer's knowledge and them bonding over their love of enunciating

Rosamund is very attracted to Castan because he's a hot, poisonous (literally) purple-haired elf, but she can also tell he has zero attraction to her plain alter ego

Plus the trauma and fear of getting sexual with a man

However, she can't help herself and sheds her disguise for a couple of balls, using the magic dress her father got her to show up as a mysterious noblewoman

Castan is immediately smitten with her

Rosamund doesn't know how she feels about this because on one hand yay! He finds me attractive! But on the other hand, duh, of course he does. He thinks I'm hotter as a personality-less mysterious woman than as a know-it-all strict and sensible bookworm, who has so much in common with him but isn't hot enough to tingle his jigglies

Castan forces the truth out eventually and is also very conflicted because Betrayal but also I Fucked Up So Hard Without Realizing but also The Two Most Interesting Women I've Met Are One And The Same! Jackpot!

Oh um and Rosamund's cover has just been blown, and in order to avoid war with [Kingdom] she must return home within a certain amount of time oh no the drama!!

Uuuh that's about it? It's kind of a simple story at its core but it's got some very heavy themes (despite my flippant summary) and a lot of things I'd need to get just right, hence why I haven't worked on it.

I do still love the characters (Rosamund is my most dignified and least girlbossy girlboss sad wet blorbo and I love her) and the fairytale and I want to write it eventually, but I also want to, ya know ... Do it Right.

Hope this satisfied your curiosity, Nonny! And thank you for asking! ^^

[thestarwrites]

The Second Half of '85, Ch. 2; Trash

Summary; Eddie Munson had been friends with Y/N L/N since middle school. They'd done everything together; until she went to college, and he didn't. You had stayed extremely close, and now, you're back in Hawkins for the Summer of '85.

Warnings; angst, faphobia

1,378 Words

-----

“Wayne!” Eddie called out from his room.

The older man sighed and looked up from his afternoon coffee, reading the day’s paper - it had been a week since the Starcourt Mall burned down. A week since Chief Hopper died. A week since Eddie had seen Y/N, “Yeah, boy, what is it?”

He popped his head out, hair wild and frizzy in the humid July air, “Have you seen my battle jacket??”

“The Dio vest, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, have you seen it?”

Wayne rubbed at his five o clock shadow and thought, “When’s the last time you’ve seen it?”

Eddie grunted and pushed both his hands to his face, grunting and running them up and over his hair, “I don’t know, the other night?? I think I was wearing it when I went out on the fourth.”

“Did you go out with Y/N?”

“— Shit, Wayne that’s it! I let…” He stopped and his face fell as he remembered the other night. He didn’t want to remember it. The pure bliss he ruined by… by defending her.

Wayne watched the myriad of emotions cross his nephew’s face before clearing his throat, “So why don’ you just call the gal then, she’s your best friend isn’t she?”

“Uh- can’t now, got band practice at Gareth’s,” his voice was unconvincing as he cleared his own throat, moving back into his room, “Thanks Wayne!”

He shut the door, pacing back and forth. She had it. Why didn’t she call? Why would she call. Eddie flopped back on his mattress. No matter how many times that week he’d fucked random girls from The Hideout, her scared face was there every time he closed his eyelids.

The results of him acting just like his dear old dad. Ashamed was maybe the largest thing the felt, and somehow, also pissed that she couldn’t see he was just protecting her. He just missed her so much, and he didn’t know how to call her, or how to make it okay. He’d now missed a week of their summer together. In just seven short weeks, she’d be gone again. Back to real life.

Where she was a normal, cool, artist. And he was just the Freak.

Slowly he packed up his Sweetheart, and bid a theatrical adieu to his uncle before going out to his shit box van, guitar and small amp in tow.

“So, I don’t get it, dude,” Jeff sighed softly, this was about to be his first senior year, “Why can’t you just call Y/N and apologize or whatever? And make sure she has your vest.”

Eddie groaned, “Guys can we just play some fuckin music please? We have a gig next Friday.”

“Yeah if they still let us after the fucking mall incident,” Gareth sighed, he wasn’t looking forward to his junior year, “But yeah, we can’t have a gig without Y/N! So you better, you know, fix it. She’s our good luck charm. Since she’s been home we’ve actually had people come and see us.”

“OKAY, okay Gareth, I’ll talk to her later okay!” Eddie rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, “ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR —“

-----------

A knock came on her bedroom door, “Honey, you can’t spend the rest of your summer break in your room.”

“I’m working on art, mom,” she lied, rubbing her red, swollen eyes as she glanced across the room at the battle jacket that hung on her closet door, “Besides, I’m still trying to figure out how to get the smell out of Eddie’s jacket.”

Her mother opened the door and came in, “Sweetie, I told you we can go together to see about getting it dry-cleaned. And besides, It wasn’t your fault those boys-“

“Mom I don’t want to talk about it anymore!”

“Honey, I’m just saying, Eddie can’t be mad at you, it’s not your fault.”

“No, mom, but if Eddie knows he wasn’t there and they…” she looked down and swallowed, “He’ll start a fight. And I don’t want him to get into any more trouble!”

Y/N’s mom moved to cross the room and sit on the bed beside her daughter, wrapping her arms around her, “I know this stuff is hard, and it’s not fair. You always think you grow up and leave high school behind and you don’t have to think about those things anymore,” she paused as she felt her daughter’s head lean on her shoulder, “But people are going to be mean and unfair whether you’re in school or in the real world. And you have to know that the people who act like that are the ones who are leading the sad life.”

She sniffed, and there was a long pause before the girl spoke again, “Mom… I think I’m in love with Eddie.”

The woman just laughed softly, “Oh honey, I could have told you that,” when Y/N whipped her head up to look at her mom she just smiled and kissed her forehead, “Eddie brings you home every third weekend from school, and is just as lost without you as you are without him. Once he even showed up here and asked for a sweater you forgot, but I know you didn’t ask him to bring it to you.”

Her cheeks reddened, “Can you… can you see if you think the vest still smells like trash?”

“I didn’t think it did after we washed it, but I’ll check,” she got up and grabbed the fabric, smelling it in a few places, “I don’t think so, it just smells like detergent to me.”

“I’m gonna call Eddie,” she nodded.

Her mom nodded, “No more moping, now. Hm? The Henderson’s asked us over for dinner tonight, so you best put on a big smile for Dustin, he’s looking forward to seeing you. His mom says he’s been so strange since the mall fire, and now with the Buyers moving away at the end of the summer… It will be good for him to see you again.”

Y/N smiled, “I can’t wait to see him either,” Her mom left the room and she briefly thought about what comics and drawings she’d bring to Dustin’s to show him. She used to babysit the boy when he was small, and she always loved how creative he was.

Sometimes she even sat in on their campaigns in the Wheeler’s basement when she wasn’t busy with Hellfire. She’d make sure to mention to Eddie that they were starting high school in the fall.

Moving to call the Munson residence, she was met with no answer. Wayne was definitely at work by now, but Eddie? He must be out with a girl or something, like always when he wasn’t home.

--------

When Eddie was leaving Gareth’s suddenly a very familiar and unexpected voice called out to him from across the street, “Eddie! Hey, wait up a second,” Chrissy Cunningham’s strawberry blonde ponytail bounced as she jogged across the street to his van.

“Oh, uh, to what do I owe the honor, princess?” Eddie tried to smoothly speak to the girl he’d had a massive crush on.

She sighed and frowned, “I just wanted to apologize for what Jason and the others did to Y/N… And I’m just… I’m sorry, really.”

“Hey, honestly, its not your fault they make fun of her that’s their own pathetic fault-“

“Eddie,” she cut him off, “I mean… with the... you know, the trash can.”

“What trash can.”

Chrissy’s eyes widened as she realized he didn’t know. She thought he was there with her, she thought he was being the bigger person not trying to beat up her boyfriend, “Oh uhm.”

“Chrissy, come on, what trashcan??” He grabbed her arm a little too earnestly. Maybe Eddie Munson was just mean and scary and she’d better go as soon as possible.

“Jason and Patrick and some of the others cornered her and dropped a trashcan over her head the night of the fair - cause he was mad at you! I thought you knew…” She frowned as he released her arm, she rubbed the spot.

“Sorry, uh, Chrissy, sorry,” he looked… sad. Not angry like she thought, “I gotta go,” he turned and jumped in his van.

It roared to life and tore down the street, leaving skid marks in place, heavy metal blaring through the open windows.

---

Sorry ch. 2 was a little short! Just a little intro to whats to come

xx Kstar

TAG LIST; @eddiesprincessposts @thatsonezesty13 @need-a-life-or-grass @medusaslilsister @eddieswifu @b-irock

[im-in-love-with-pizza-bites]

Yours, Mine, Ours: Chapter 1

Single-Dad!Chris Evans X Single-Mom!Reader

Series MasterList

Series Summary: Your husband Caspian Richardson Senior died while serving in the military, so you move your three sons to Boston, MA. Where you meet an actor and his sweet daughter.

Chapter Summary: You meet the neighbors.

Series Warnings: Death of a spouse/parent, divorce of parents,

Chapter Warnings: none

You looked at your three sons who were eating and arguing about something. Your oldest is, Capsian JR, named after his dad, he's fifteen and really sweet, your middle child is, nine-year-old Jace, then your youngest is eight-year-old Connor. The last two years have been difficult for your family, two years ago your husband, US Army Master Sergeant, Caspian Richardson Sr, was put on a two-year deployment overseas. Your family had been living in California on the army base. A year ago only halfway through the deployment, you got the news he died. Now a year later, you moved to Boston where your husband always wanted your kids to grow up.

"Okay, boys! We need to talk." You said sitting at the table with your breakfast and favorite morning drink. "What sports do you guys want to play this year?"

"Football🏈!" Caspian said happily. He's been playing football since he was 8 and he truly loved the game.

"Baseball," Jace said smiling. You grinned nodding.

"Soccer⚽!"

"Okay, junior try out for football, boys I'll sign you up for your sports. Jace-"

"Keep an eye on Connor. I know mom I got it." He smiled.

"Casp-"

"Remember to walk them home from school. Mom, we got this we always do." He assured you.

"Okay finish eating then get dressed."

———

"June bug!" Chris exclaimed as June ran down the sidewalk after the ball she had dropped. She stopped when a teenage boy grabbed the ball.

"Here you are kiddo." He smiled handing the ball.

"Thank you! My name is June what's yours?" She asked him smiling.

"My name is Caspian."

"Cool! What're your names?" She looked at the other two older boys.

"Jace."

"Connor." You smiled walking over to the kids.

"Hi there Sweetheart where are your parents?" You asked kneeling.

"Daddy is right there!" She points to a man who was running over with a dog.

"June bug don't run off." He knelt picking her up. "Thank you." He gave a grateful smile.

"Of course, I'm y/n, these are my boys, Caspian, Jace, Connor." You smiled. You didn't notice Caspian staring at him as though he knew him.

"I'm Chris, this is Juniper."

"He is Dodger!" She pointed down to the dog that was sniffing the boy's shoes.

"He's really cute."

"Can we pet him?" Connor asked.

"Of course. So you are the new neighbors the ones that moved in last week? Is your spouse working or are they inside?" Chris asked you, setting Juniper down to play with the other kids.

"I'm a widow." You told him.

"Oh! I'm so sorry." He gave an apologetic smile.

"It's fine." You assured.

"Uh... How old are your kiddos?" He asked looking at the four kids.

"Caspian is 15, Jace is 9, and Connor is 8. How about Juniper?"

"4." He smiled

"Aw. Well, we have to get going I don't want the boys being late on their first day but we'll see you guys around?"

"Okay, nice meeting you." He smiled shaking your hand.

"You too. Come on boys." You urged the three kids away from the dog.

"Bye, sir. Bye June." Caspian smiled ruffling the young girl's hair earning a glare from her father and her.

"Bye, mister! Cute dog!" Connor said before going down the driveway to your minivan.

"Bye!" Jace said following his little brother, his older brother close behind.

"Bye Chris. Bye sweetheart." You gave them both a smile before you joined your sons. "Well, they were nice."

"Their dog is cute," Connor stated as the four of you got into the car.

"He was so fluffy!" Jace gushed. "Can we get a dog?" You looked back at him.

"Not anytime soon bud we just moved in. Okay?" He pouted but nodded his understanding. "Okay no dillydallying after school, I want the three of you home and helping me unpack." You said looking back at the pile of boxes that had yet to be removed from your car.

"Okay!" The three chorused.

"Mom? Our neighbor is a famous actor you did realize that right?" Caspian asked quietly from the passenger seat.

"Hmm?" You glanced at him as you backed out of the driveway.

"He plays Steve Rogers! From marvel?" He said smiling.

"Oh those movies you and your dad loved? That's cool hun." You smiled keeping your eyes on the road. "Maybe next time you see him you can asked for a photo. Or something."

"Maybe." He shrugged looking at his phone.

———

It's been a week since you met your neighbor, you've spoken once in a while since but that's about it. Your house was coming together which you were happy about. You were outside doing yard work, wanting the outside to look as nice as the inside. You had a job lined up but you didn't start for a while so you were taking this time to make the house look nice.

"Hi, miss y/n! Daddy did my hair how do you like it?" June said from the other side of the fence, looking through a hole in it. You looked up at her smiling. You stood walking over to get a better look.

"It's pretty." You held in your laugh at the messy braid, you could tell it would fall out by the end of the day but at least Chris tried. He was standing on his porch watching you interact with his daughter as he drank his coffee. "Your daddy did a great job. A for effort!"

"Daddy!" She ran away from you smiling. You chuckled. "You got an A!" She told him loudly. You busted out laughing.

"Thank you!" He waved at you smiling, before he talked to Juniper too quietly for you to hear. You smiled before going back to what you had been doing.

—

Chris looked down at his coffee as he let Juniper play in the yard. Her preschool was starting a little late today so he had extra time with her. He looked back up to see he hobbling her happy butt to the fence. To a hole conveniently at her eye level. It wasn't large but it was large enough that he could see it from the porch. It wasn't noticeable unless you were looking for it. He watched as you poked your head over the fence talking to his little June bug.

You were so good with her, he'd assume it's from having three kids but either way he loved it. He would argue that he won the next-door neighbor lottery. You were nice, your sons were polite, you four weren't loud, and you understood the difficulties he was going through. He could only hope to build a friendship with you.

Taglist: @anacrcarvalho @traceyaudette @deputy-videogamer @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @yelenabelovawife @queenofthepouges @hauntedmuffinpersonarascal @stillthatbetch @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @selluequestrian @killerqueenfan

If your name is crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason.

[bubblyhoney]

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

-

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think

[songbirdsingingthings]

You and Your Everything - Shouto Todoroki x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

WARNINGS: Your parents being the absolute worst, a few minor curse words, a lil angsty

Requested by Anonymous:

HI i love your writing and i saw that your requests were open? i was wondering if you could do like a shoto x reader but instead y/ns parents are like the opposite of shoto and endeavor? like for an example how shoto wants nothing to do with his dad and and all y/n wants to do is please her parents or make them happy since they never pay attention to her like that? both house holds are still toxic but i feel like thatd be an interesting dynamic

A/N: This was so interesting and cool to write! Obviously, the subject matter was much angstier and sadder than a lot of the stuff I have written, but I found writing this, like, entire paragraph of dialogue of Shouto (you’ll know it when you see it) to be so entirely incredible. I just kept on writing. Thank you so much for this awesome rec!

Word Count: 1.8K

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Kana Y/L/N. Please leave a message. BEEP”

“Hi Mom, it’s me again. Just calling to remind you that third years are allowed to reserve a box for their parents in the Sports Festival arena! I saved one for you and Dad in the front row, which are the best seats in the whole place. The Festival takes place tomorrow, as I told you guys about three months ago so you could put it on your calendars. I’m, uh, looking forward to seeing you again! Love you, bye!” Pressing the red circle that represented an “end call” button, you heaved a sigh and looked through your recent calls. Nine recent calls that your mother had missed within the last three days. Ten that your father had. They’re just busy, you tell yourself, trying to ease your mind. They’re just busy right now, but they had said that they’d come. They’ll come. Your thoughts had consumed you to such a point you didn’t even register the little nudges to your side.

“.../N? Y/N?” You blinked quickly to rid your consciousness of its prior dilemma and turn your head to the side. With heterochromatic eyes blinking fondly at you matched with a slight frown of concern, your boyfriend prompts the same question that had earlier feel upon deaf ears. “Y/N, I was asking if you are alright. You seemed a little… not here when I asked you just a minute ago.” Shouto’s voice, like always, is level, however little hints of emotion always tend to slip in between the cracks of his pronunciations. Like now, for instance, you hear the traces of worry cling onto his words.

“Oh, sorry, I was just leaving a voicemail.” You say simply. The sentence that left your mouth would seem normal to any person that you were friendly with. However, Shouto knew the implications. His shoulders seemed to tense as he took your hand. You squeeze his hand to reassure him. “Don’t worry Sho, they’re just really busy people. I’m sure they definitely carved time out of their schedules to come and watch me. I just need to make sure I get into the tournament round so I don’t waste their time.” You say, laughing a little dryly. Shouto doesn’t smile at the joke you made at your own expense.

“I just don’t get it.” He says, which makes your smile drop into a frown. “Why do you try so hard for them.” Your spine straightens at his words and your grip on his hand loosens. “Y/N, they’re awful people-”

“They’re my parents and I want to make them proud.” You say swiftly, a slight grimace on your face. Silence settles between the two of you, that is, until you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Jumping up immediately and grabbing your phone, you take a glance at the caller ID. Your heart sinks as you see it’s a random telemarketer, and click decline call. You look back to your boyfriend, which was a mistake, because his eyes pooled with pity. Not feeling quite right in the space you were in, you grab your school bag and stuff your phone the furthest down it would go. “I’m going to go freshen up before dinner.” You decide, nodding towards Shouto and walking away a bit.

“Do you want me to come with you?” His suggestion on a normal basis would make your face flush and your heart beat a bit faster, however today you just wanted to be alone for a bit.

“No, it’s okay,  I’ll see you at dinner.” You say quickly.

“Y/N.” His grip came softly around your wrist, tugging you back a bit to face him. “I’m… I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I just love you,” he said those last two words a bit softer than the others, “and I want to see you happy.” Butterflies took flight in the pit of your stomach as you held Shouto’s gaze, his heartfelt and earnest words weighing heavily within your heart. Your frown wobbles into a smile as you lean in to place a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I know.”

“Did you see me out there?!” You cheer, careening down the arena hallway towards where Shouto was waiting with open arms. You leapt directly into them and was quickly picked up and spun around in a little circle.

“I did, you were incredible.” Shouto gushes, his cheek squished against yours. You laughed joyously as you felt his arms squeeze you closer to him, your heart racing with both leftover adrenaline from your second round tournament match and the feeling of love from your boyfriend. However, your laughter and the embrace you were tucked into died down when you heard the faint clearing of a throat, causing both of you to turn towards the sound. If you were looking into a mirror, you’re sure you would see your eyes grow to the size of saucers and your jaw dropping just a tad at the sight before you. There, standing about ten paces away, were your parents. Your mother, with her hair tied back in an uncomfortable looking bun with her freshly pressed pencil skirt and matching career jacket. Your father at her side, his suit and pants looking as sharp as ever. And the expressions they held…

“M-mother? Father? You two made it?” You stammer out, dumbfounded at their appearance. “But I, uh, didn’t see either of you in the stands.” You admit, earning a nonchalant expression from both parents.

“Well, with that lackluster performance that you executed, did you really think we would want to show our faces? It’s bad enough our colleagues know of you and all your little failures that you like to categorize as triumphs. Honestly, you really thought that we would want to be on camera for the entire world to see?” Your mother’s bored tone and biting words struck you hard. You felt your spine straighten and your hands stick to your side as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“But… I won.” You said, so soft that the sound of someone’s heartbeat could overpower it. If your gaze wasn’t stuck to your parents’ forms, you would have seen Shouto’s eyebrows narrow, awaiting for the oncoming onslaught.

“Good Lord, you want to call that a win? It makes me wonder how you ever got into this school or passed any physical examination in your class.” Your father’s tone, just as bored and apathetic as your mother’s, sent trembles down your spine. You clenched your fists and jaw to try and prevent crying. But, of course, it was of no use. The tears trickled their way, one by one, down your cheek like raindrops on a car window.

“And you’re crying now. Fantastic.” Your mother retorts, turning her to your father now. “I told you we should have sent her directly to the Hero Public Safety Commission. Would’ve toughened her up in no time-”

“CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S UPSET?!” You almost didn’t recognize his voice. The soft spoken, pensive Shouto Todoroki that you knew to be your boyfriend rarely got upset. When he did, it was almost always in the middle of a battle or fight, just as he was about to use a special move. But this time, it was pure rage and anger that clung onto his words. Your parents, now sprouting an expression of slight surprise turned their attention to the seething red-and-white haired boy at your side. “All she ever does is work to make you happy. Day and night, twenty-four seven, it’s for you. And now here you come, strutting back into her life with some agenda on how she should fight and how much of a so-called failure she is?! Well screw that! You don’t get to have an opinion when it comes to her! She has been trying to get a hold of both of you for months on end and getting no more than the same damn message from your voicemails, telling her that you’re too busy for her!” Shouto’s face was red now. His fists were balled up and the tiniest flecks of flames were flaking from his left side. “And then, you’re now finally here, and you come with this holier-than-thou attitude! Y/N L//N, your daughter, is the most incredible and capable person I have met in my entire life. The fact that a person like her can rise like a phoenix from the ashes that is your attitudes and parenting styles is a miracle, because in every way, shape and form, she will forever be a marvel. To me, to our classmates, and to the entire world. I just can’t wait to see the look on your sorry asses when the time comes for her to give her thank you speech after becoming the number one hero, and you don’t hear either of your names mentioned once.” The silence is deafening after Shouto finishes speaking. You feel your whole body trembling and can recognize that there are tears falling down past your cheeks, but nothing else. Nothing else, until that constricting feeling that you felt bound to you to your parents’ approval starts to loosen the moment Shouto takes your hand in his. 

“Let’s go.” Your words, merely more than a whisper, is all it takes for Shouto to wrap and arm around your waist as he marches past your dumbstruck parents, towards a private room. The second Shouto clicks the lock shut, you let yourself break down. Sobs racked your body as you clung onto his shirt, his arm, and his love. “They’re supposed to be my parents. How… I can’t even do anything.” You hiccup into his tear-stained gym uniform, the one identical to yours (without the blotches of tears).

“Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re fine.” Shouto says, his reassuring words grounding you. “You will get through this whole… mess, okay? I know you can. All you need to do is take it one day at a time.” You nod into his chest and let your head lie there as the tears finally started to cease from falling.

“You, uh, probably have to get ready for your match, right?” You sniff, moving one of your hands up to your face to rub at your nose.

“I’m fine here.” Shouto says, wrapping his arms around you. “Y/N, you really were incredible out there. Do not let them make you think otherwise.” You nod again as you feel Shouto begin to play lightly with your hair. “You are enough. More than, in fact. They might think otherwise, but I don’t. I love you, and your smile, and your everything.” You were too fried emotionally to say anything back, but Shouto knew. He knew that it would take time to finally break from your parents’ psychological hold over you and that he would always be there at your side.

[redrobin-detective]

The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death. 

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave. 

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air. 

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough. 

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die. 

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town. 

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper. 

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light. 

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally. 

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

 Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock. 

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

[janetbrown711]

Can we get a one-shot between yakko and max at the party? Please

Parties.

Yakko remembered those, though they were far and few between. Angelina wasn't necessarily one to celebrate often, but his parents told them tales of celebrations in the past. Singing, dancing, laughing, falling in love, it sounded exciting.

Well- okay, Yakko had technically been to parties before. However, they always lacked the spirit and energy and- well... fun his parents described them with. His grandmother's parties were stiff and uncomfortable, and usually without his siblings.

However, his mother's coronation party was the complete opposite of that. There was music- fiddles and the like- the kind of music that made you want to dance and brought smiles to faces the second the hair touched the strings. There was dancing, real dancing, the fun kind with stomping and twirling that made people lose their breath without even minding because of how fun it was. There was food, there was art, there was singing, there were people- tons of them.

There was a prince.

Yakko hadn't seen him before.

He was a dog- likely no older than Yakko himself. He looked like he was trying to have a good time, but the outfit he was put into was clearly not meant for this level of activity. His hair was messy, with a crown crooked on his head. His eyes were dark like a smoky quartz, and they were looking around the room, attempting to calm an anxiety within (Yakko could relate to that).

The prince made eye contact with Yakko.

Yakko looked back.

"Yakko! Who're ya looking at?" Wakko appeared out of the blue, tugging on Yakko's sleeve and snapping him out of the trance.

"N-no one," He lied. It wasn't like he knew who he was, though he was a prince and most certainly not a nobody.

"But you were looking at someone, telllll meeeee," Wakko tugged on his sleeve.

"Weren't you drawing with chalk?" Yakko huffed.

"Yeah, but you were making heart eyes and I wanted to see," Wakko crossed his arms, huffing right back.

"I-i wasn't actually making heart eyes, right?" Yakko panicked. Wakko and Dot giggled.

"No, but you looked really silly," She grinned cheekily. Yakko rolled his eyes.

"You should talk to him," Dot said, pointing to the prince.

"Put your arm down, it's rude to point," He put her arm down for her, embarrassed. Dot giggled more.

"Talk to him or else we will," She smirked.

"Nope- uh- that's alright, I can talk to him," Yakko quickly said, already making his way to the mysterious prince, Wakko and Dot watching a bit from behind, before Yakko gave them a look and they (wisely) scattered.

Yakko was about halfway there when he realized he had no idea what on earth he was supposed to say to him. He hadn't interacted with someone his age since- well... ever. Much less someone who made him feel like this.

He should've prepared more. He had read many books on romance and even just social interaction. He had read numerous social interactions, both good and bad, and yet his mind was blank as to what to say.

Well, it looked like he was going to have to improvise because before he knew it, his feet had dragged him over and he was right beside the prince, with just enough distance not to be noticed by him yet.

"Okay Yakko, you get one shot," He whispered to himself in preparation. God- he hadn't felt this nervous in a while.

"So... you... come here often?" He asked. The prince turned and looked at him, slightly startled.

"A-aren't you the crown prince?" He asked, his face flushing slightly.

"Oh my god- that was a terrible introduction," Yakko facepalmed. To his surprise, this made the prince laugh.

"It's cool, I-i can get nervous too," He said.

"Sorry, yeah. Can I- uh, start over?" Yakko asked, laughing nervously.

"Okay," The other prince laughed too, which made Yakko's heart flutter a bit.

"My name is Yakko Warner of- well- Warnernstock, but I think you figured that out," Yakko held his hand out.

"I'm Prince Max Goof of Disneyland," Max said, shaking it.

"Disneyland, huh? that's not too far away," Yakko said.

"We border Warnstock, though the castle is right in the middle of the country so it did take a few hours," Max nodded to himself.

"Sooo... what's it like there?" Yakko asked, internally cringing at just how terrible this conversation was. He usually loved talking- why was he so bad at it now?

"It's- uh- well- it's interesting," Max said, scratching the back of his neck. "My dad works with my uncles Mickey and Donald in running the kingdom, and we technically have a really big family that can get pretty overwhelming at times," He explained. "Used to be more, but Mom died when I was born and Uncle Oswald died in a war when I was 5."

"I thought my mom was dead for awhile, so I kinda relate," Yakko said.

"Your grandma is dead too, right?" Max asked.

"Yeah, but that's not a bad thing," Yakko said, just now realizing that the conversation took an odd turn.

"Don't doubt that, from what I've heard," Max laughed, which made Yakko relax.

Maybe this wasn't going terribly.

"But yeah, it's interesting there. What's it like over here in Warnerstock? It's my first time," Max asked.

"It's chaotic too. My grandma-" Yakko paused, not really sure how much he wanted to share. He had just met Max, he didn't want to scare him away this early.

"My grandma was... a piece of work, but my parents are pretty cool," Yakko said, scanning around for them, and finding them on the dance floor happy as can be.

"And I have two younger siblings, so that's... fun," He added, suddenly becoming aware of just how weird and... deeply wrong his life had been up to this point.

"Oh yeah, I think I've seen them around. I think your brother tried drawing chalk around where I was standing so I tried to move but he wouldn't let me till he was finished," Max recalled.

"Sorry- they can be a real handful," Yakko blushed, embarrassed.

"Yeah, Dot and Wakko can stir up a lot of chaos," Yakko tried to say so with a happy, fond look at their mischief, but instead memories of the times it got them in serious trouble flooded his mind, and he frowned.

"Are you- uh- okay?" Max asked.

"I'm... fine. I'm fine," Yakko shook his head, forcing the memories down. "I'm sorry, I just... it's been a lot lately."

"I can believe that, from what I've heard," Max nodded, his eyes soft and sympathetic. Yakko could only nod.

"But hey, at least things are looking up now, huh?" The foreign prince did his best to lift his spirits.

"That is one way to look at it," Yakko agreed, forcing down the knotted feeling in his stomach.

There was a pause, neither prince knowing what to say, each unsure of their emotions, or where to go next in their conversation.

"So... what's your family like?" Yakko asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"My dad is... well, he's something alright," Max looked away, embarrassed.

"What do you mean?" Yakko raised an eyebrow.

"He's- well... Goofy. That's his name," Max shrugged. "Though my uncles are pretty cool, though they aren't my uncles in the literal sense," He quickly shifted the subject.

"That must be cool. Both of my parents were only children," Yakko didn't push.

"Yeah. But that doesn't mean it's all great, I'm still an only child. I'm sure it's great to have some siblings around," Max said.

"They do keep things interesting," Yakko snorted, looking through the crowd, finding them spying on him yet again. He shot them another look, and the two scattered.

"But I don't know anyone my own age really, and at times I've felt more like a parent than a sibling," Yakko admitted, though he didn't know why.

"I don't know anyone my own age really either," Max said.

"But... I could know you, if you want," He offered. Yakko looked at him, and found he was blushing and looking away.

"I wouldn't mind that," He said, a small smile growing on his face. Max looked at him and smiled back, the fluttering feeling returning.

"You're really-..." Cute? Pretty? Handsome? Yakko knew a thousand words but he had no idea how to describe Max's appearance, especially in a way that made sense.

"Cool?" Max seemed to know his plight.

"Yes! Cool," Yakko snapped his fingers, which made Max laugh.

"You're... cool," He said.

"Thanks," Max punched his arm lightly. "You're cool too."

Another pause. Yakko was becoming increasingly aware that he simply had no idea how on earth to talk to anyone who wasn't a family member. He had no idea what normal things for people like Max were.

Yakko realized he had no idea how to be a kid.

"Do you wanna dance?" Max asked, snapping him out of the train of thought.

"O-oh, uh- I'm a terrible dancer, I couldn't possibly-" Yakko made excuses as his eyes went to the dance floor, where he discovered his parents were watching him too. They both had goofy grins on their faces and gave him a big thumbs up and Yakko's face turned bright red.

"Oh I'm a terrible dancer too, I just figured it'd be fun. I've been observing them long enough, I think I figured it out," Max said.

"Well I guess if you really want, we can be terrible together," Yakko couldn't look him in the eyes, his face still as red as a tomato.

"I-i mean if you don't want to..." Max put his hands in his pockets.

"No, it- it'll be fun. Let's do it," Yakko shook away the flustered feeling, holding his hand out for Max. Max took it.

"I'm not joking when I say I'm a terrible dancer though. I once had to dance with a lady and I nearly tore her dress because I kept stepping on it," Max admitted sheepishly as Yakko took him towards where the people were dancing.

"Well lucky for you, I'm no lady and have no dress to tear," He said, surprised at his sudden wit. Good- maybe that meant he stop embarrassing himself and have a good conversation.

"Y-yeah," Max said. God- he was just so-... so-

Yakko was starting to get annoyed at his suddenly small vocabulary.

"I think I actually know this dance. I'll wait for an opening and then you can follow my lead," Yakko told him.

"Ok-okay, if that's what you want then-" Max couldn't finish his sentence before Yakko found an opening and before he knew it, they were pulled into a dance.

Yakko was thankful he actually paid attention to the book on dances and read the full thing, because while his grandmother had only wanted him to read the formal, ballroom dances, he read the whole thing through and found the town dance section and now knew what he was doing. A luck Max clearly didn't have, but that almost made it more fun. He had only just met Max, but it was clear Max trusted and liked him to some extent, and Yakko felt the same. There was just something about him Yakko couldn't describe.

"Relax, it's all fun," Yakko said to him, and Max loosened up a bit, making the movement a lot easier. Soon, the speed picked up, and the stomps and jumps intensified and the rest of the world just melted away, as all the boys were focused on were each other. Sure, there were a few times that they stepped on each other's feet or they were off from everyone else, but they just laughed it off and continued having fun.

Fun.

Despite how much Yakko embarrassed himself, he was having fun.

Hell- this was probably the most fun he had ever had in his whole life. All of his previous stress and anxieties melted away- this was fun.

Max was fun.

Yakko really, really liked him.

Eventually, after a long while of dancing, the song came to an end, and Yakko and Max were left panting as they stood close to each other. For a moment they looked into each other's eyes, before realizing where they were and both taking a step back.

"Well that was- well-" Max really wasn't one for words, was he?

"It was fun," Yakko said for him. The foreign prince nodded.

"It was fun," He grinned a little.

"You totally lied to me though, you're a good dancer," Max punched his arm again. Yakko laughed.

"I meant more like- ballroom stuff. I'm so terrible at ballroom dancing, my grandmother basically banned me from dancing," He snorted.

"I've basically banned myself- I dance a lot like my dad... usually," Max said. Yakko had never met Goofy, but from the name alone he could get a pretty good picture.

"Don't sell yourself short, you were pretty good," Yakko encouraged as they began to walk back to their previous place.

"Yeah... well... thanks," Max said. "I..." He stopped to think about his words.

"I don't have a lot of friends... especially those my age. People usually find me- well- awkward and weird and... like my dad, basically. But you're... you're cool," He managed to say.

God, Yakko could relate to that.

"You're cool too," Yakko said, looking him in the eyes.

They stood in an entranced silence for a little while, before they heard the music start up again, and they watched the dancers for a while.

"So... what do you like to do? Got any... hobbies?" Max asked.

"I read and study a lot," Yakko shrugged.

"You like studying?" Max genuinely questioned.

Yakko thought about that. "I mean... I think so? I don't know... I guess I just do it a lot."

"Ah," was all Max could really say to that.

Stupid trauma.

"What about you?" Yakko switched the conversation.

"I like doing sports, they're one of my bigger strengths," Max replied.

"That makes one of us- I'm pretty sure no one can be less pathetic than me," He snorted. "Even my seven-year-old sister is better at sword fighting than me."

"And it's not like I don't have the genes or anything- my dad's a knight for crying out loud, I don't know why I have a bad case of noodle arms," Yakko joked, which made Max laugh.

"You don't have to be physically strong, being smart is equally as good," he said.

"Until you have to protect people," Yakko thought to himself.

"Yeah," He said aloud.

Stupid, stupid trauma.

"Besides, I could try and give pointers if you wanted," Max said. That snapped Yakko out of those thoughts in an instant.

"P-pointers? When would we do that?" He asked. Max shrugged.

"I dunno. But what I do know is that you can visit my kingdom anytime, uncle Mickey and my dad love guests," He invited.

"Is... is that normal?" Yakko asked. Max blinked.

"Yeah? Did- have you never had any guests at your castle?" He asked, trying his best not to sound weirded out.

"Outside of the occasional ambassador and ball, no," Yakko admitted.

"Well, then I guess you'll definitely have to come over sometime," Max said.

"Yeah... I guess I will," Yakko managed to smile.

Suddenly, it dawned on Yakko how late it was becoming. The crowds grew smaller and smaller, as the sun had set hours ago. He looked around and saw someone wearing the emblem of Disneyland who looked like they were watching over Max sitting and possibly waiting for them to be done so he could take him home. Yakko frowned.

"You have to go now, don't you?" Yakko asked. Max looked at the man Yakko had noticed. He sighed.

"It is really late... don't get me wrong though- this was easily the most fun I've had in a long, long time," Max said. "I just- I have to go home eventually."

"No, trust me, i get it," Yakko smiled softly at him. Max returned the look.

"I'll... I'll see you again though, right? You'll stop by my castle?" He asked.

"Of course," Yakko nodded seriously.

The man across the way seemed to take notice of the lack of conversation, making his way towards the pair. Yakko sighed.

"I'll see you later then," He said.

"Yeah, see you," Max didn't know what to do so he punched his arm lightly before waving and going with the guard.

"See you..." Yakko said to himself, watching him go.

Max sure was something...

"Did you have fun tonight?" A voice from behind startled Yakko.

"Oh mom- it's just you," He relaxed. "Yeah- I did."

"Your siblings are both practically asleep, not that I'm surprised," Lena chuckled. Yakko scanned the area for them and found them both curled up by the bonfire. He snorted.

"That's Wakko and Dot alright: boundless energy until they crash," He said. Lena nodded.

"Who was that prince?" His mother asked with a slight smirk. Yakko blushed.

"His name is Max, he's from Disneyland," He said.

"Disneyland... I haven't heard from them in a long time," Lena thought out loud.

"Well, he seems to really like you," She looked back at him.

"He's cool," Yakko shrugged.

"Just 'cool?'" Lena teased. Yakko gave her a weird look. Lena laughed.

"Never mind, you'll figure it all out in due time," She wrapped an arm around him as they began walking back inside.

"What about Wakko and Dot?" Yakko asked, looking back at them.

"Your father will carry them to bed, they'll be fine," Lena said. Yakko nodded to himself.

"So... Max, hm? Do you want to see him again?" She asked.

"Can I?" He asked. Lena chuckled.

"Of course, it's been so long since I've spoken to them, and now that I'm queen, a visit or two isn't beyond reason," Lena said.

"Oh right, you are the queen," Yakko realized.

"Strange, right?" She joked.

It was strange, to think of his grandmother in the past tense. She was queen. His mother is queen.

"Yep," He said, before sighing.

"I think I'm gonna go to bed," he said.

"After all that, I bet. Goodnight darling," Lena gave him a hug, which he quickly returned before going back inside without her.

So this was what it was like to be a normal kid... well- attempting to be a normal kid, anyway. Parties, fun, making friends, butterflies...

Yakko was going to have to do a lot more studying this next while to see if he could get a grasp on what it was exactly he felt for Max, otherwise, he was certain he was going to go mad.

Still, despite the emotional swirl in his chest, he knew he had a good time. Max was cool and Yakko liked being around him-- that much he couldn't deny.

Yakko couldn't wait to see him again.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 The End

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Going Back Home

Summary: Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Claire Beck

wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings: more or less unplanned pregnancy, break up, mentions of sexual encounters

A/N: I am a weak weak person so here it is, a chaptered fic. I will try to update this weekly, but no promises. Rating will go up later. I'm attempting slow burn. Let's see how slow lol Let me know what you think. Reblogs are, as always, appreciated 💙

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

Even Though most of her happiest memories were connected with this town, the town she spent most of her life in, Claire never thought she actually would be back here. And certainly not pregnant and all by herself.

It wasn’t that she had been unhappy here. Claire just always wanted something… bigger. Something more. Something exciting. After her parents died and most of her friends moved away, there was nothing holding her back. Well, that wasn’t true. Frankie and Santiago were there. But only when they weren’t overseas or god knows where, which left her with her dream of being a journalist in a small town where she had no chance to ever make it.

She still remembered Santi’s face when she announced that it was her turn to leave just before they were about to be gone for months again. She had gotten a job in New York and thought for days about what to do until she took the job. That was eight years ago and they hadn’t seen each other in person since then.

Yet when she called Frankie three days ago in tears, it was like no time had passed. She wanted to call Santiago first, but she knew him. If she had told him what happened to her he would have gotten into his car and gotten to her, no matter if it took 3 straight days. No, she had called Frankie. He had listened to her for hours until he made her promise to book the next flight out.

When the fuck did her life become such a shit show?

Only a week ago, she had the dream job, was engaged and 5 months pregnant.

Claire was happy. Until her fiance came back from a work trip and suddenly announced that he wanted nothing to do with the child and moved out within days, leaving her on her own. Not even his phone number was working and she wasn’t gonna show up at his work. She wasn’t that desperate. She should have seen it coming. John never planned to have kids. But when Clarie found out that she was pregnant he had already asked her to marry him and maybe he was too proud to end the engagement back then. Thinking back maybe this was the reason he stayed. Because a part of him wanted to spend his life with her. They didn’t fight. He just moved out, told her that he would take care financially of her and the child, but that he didn’t want to be a father.

The first days she was just numb. Trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, left her while she was pregnant with a child they didn’t plan but that she loved without a doubt. That was what kept her going. Her little bean. Claire would do anything to protect her little girl.

The guys to this day called her bean. She found herself thinking more of them since John left. Even without seeing them in the last years, they still stayed in contact. Not a week went by where she didn’t receive a letter. They had a group chat that was only used when they were at home and the bachelor was on. Cause fuck did they all hate that show but they watched it anyways.

Claire was okay with the whole suddenly being on her own thing, until she felt her baby move for the first time and turned in her bed to wake her fiance, finding the side empty and cold. For one tiny moment, she had forgotten that she was alone in a city where she had only a couple of friends who were his friends rather than hers. She had always had a hard time finding friends. That probably wouldn’t change.

Sucking her bottom lip in, she rested one hand on her belly as she waited for her luggage to arrive. She slept almost through the entire flight. Claire had gotten rid of the last eight years of her life in the last 48 hours. She wanted to start fresh. She needed a fresh start. Even if she had no idea how to deal with all of this on her own.

A woman next to her helped her get her suitcases on the cart, noticing that Claire was on her own. Pushing the cart through security she saw Frankie as soon as the door opened and next to him Ben, Will and Santiago who all smiled at her, while she felt the first tears escaping her eyes.

She had met Ben and Will only a couple times, they were living an hour away, but they became part of the group immediately. Once upon a time her childhood best friend, Leah, was in that group too. Claire hadn’t thought of Leah in a long time. She had died in a car accident almost 12 years ago.

Arms pulled her in a warm embrace and even after years of not seeing each other for such a long time, she still noticed Frankie’s scent.

“We got you,” he whispered, kissing her hair. She sobbed once before she was pulled into Santi’s arms.

“Look at you,” he smiled before he looked down at her belly.

“And look at you?” he smiled and leaned down.

“Hello, this is your favorite Uncle speaking,” he winked, bending down to speak directly to her belly, making her chuckle.

“Oh please, we all know I’m gonna be the favorite, hey bean,” Will hugged her.

“Don’t listen to them baby girl, we know they're all gonna spoil you rotten,” she grinned, letting Ben kiss her cheek.

“So you’re staying?” Frankie asked and you nodded.

“I already called some realtors. I wanna get this over as quickly as possible. Already sold everything back in New York,” Claire said, looking at the two men who formed most of her teenage years.

“Okay. Let’s get you out of this airport first. You okay to stay with Frankie? He has the biggest house,” Santiago asked, pushing the cart as you slowly walked towards the exit with Ben’s arm around her shoulder.

“Uh… I don’t wanna impose. I could just take a room…”

“Fuck no. Stay at my place. It’s my Pa’s old ranch. I’m renovating it.”

“What? No way!” she said surprised but Frankie only nodded.

“Yeah after Liz and South America I needed something to keep me busy. Also needed more space for Elena,” he explained. A small smile sneaked to Claire’s face.

“I still can’t believe you’re a dad Frankie.”

“Can’t believe you gonna be a mom. Fuck we’re really adults now, huh?” he winked and Claire sighed.

“Certainly didn’t plan it that way. Or planned it at all,” she said sadly before she shook her head as if to get rid of the sad thoughts clouding her mind.

“I meant it, Claire. We got you. We are bored most times anyways.”

“Hey speak for yourself, Fish. I got a business,” Santi said.

“Yeah. Yeah. Me too. But after work you’re either drunk or after some pussy so?” Ben grinned, making her chuckle.

“So still no ladies in your life, boys?” Claire asked as they reached what definitely was Frankie’s truck. It had his company name on it. “Morales gardening”

“Nope. But now that you’re here we could finally….” Will started only for Claire to look away in disgust, making them all laugh.

“You ready to become a Daddy, Will?” she asked, her hands both on her belly.

“Uhm… of course?” he answered and she chuckled.

“That’s what I thought,” she patted his cheek.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted,” Frankie said and opened the door for her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for the BBQ,” they all waved. She waved back, letting Frankie help her inside before he closed the door behind her and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“BBQ?” she asked.

“Can’t blame the folks from wanting to welcome you, bean,” he winked.

“What folks?”

“Ya know. Folks. You gonna see,” he looked at Claire. He felt better now that she was here. Frankie had missed her these last years, the couple of calls throughout hadn’t nearly been enough. And when she called two days ago in tears… He would have gotten the chopper and flown over but he couldn’t risk it. He had to be on good behaviour to be able to keep seeing his daughter.

“I missed you, Francisco,” she whispered.

“Missed you too, Bean.”

The sun was already setting when Frankie drove down a familiar path. Claire had spent countless days on this ranch when she was younger.

“How is your Dad doing?” she asked softly and Frankie sighed as he killed the engine in front of the house.

“I fucking hate that I can’t take care of him on my own, but he’s hanging in there.”

“I’d like to visit him if you’re okay with that,” she reached over squeezing his hand and he looked at her with a small smile.

“I bet he would love that.”

“And I’m sure he would have wanted it this way, Francisco. You know your dad. He wouldn’t have wanted you to drop everything for him. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said quietly.

“Damn I really missed you Bean,” he shook his head.

“Missed you too,” she let her head fall against his shoulder.

Claire didn’t really have eyes for the house, all she wanted was to go to sleep.

“I finished the guest room this morning for you,” Frankie said, setting one of her suitcases down as he opened the door.

“Please tell me you didn’t work overnight to finish this,” she sighed looking at him. He was rubbing the back of his head, pulling the cap he was always wearing down and avoiding her eyes.

Knowingly she shook her head, but couldn’t help the smile sneaking to her face.

“I won’t say it. But please don’t touch the walls, they might still be wet,” he said and she chuckled.

“Okay. Bathroom is over there. The shower isn’t working yet but you’re welcome to use mine. Will is coming over to take a look and make this one work. Other than that if you need anything just ask. Until you found a place this is your home.”

“You really didn’t have to do this, Frankie,” she said quietly, feeling overwhelmed by all of this. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time for her and she only now seemed to realize that she was indeed about to be a single mom.

“I wanted to. You’re… You don’t deserve to be treated like this. So let us help you, okay?” he said softly and she nodded but avoided his eyes.

“Okay. Go to sleep. My room is down the hallway if you need anything,” he stepped closer, kissing her forehead and for one tiny moment, she felt like the 15 year old teenager again who was crushing on Frankie Morales.

“Good night, Francisco,” she smiled.

“Good night, bean,” he whispered before he turned around and closed the door behind him.

Claire looked around, in awe of the room, the bed looking so inviting to her. Sighing she walked over to the window, knowing she would be able to see the whole property during the day. Crossing her arms in front of her she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of nature that she had no idea she had missed living in the city for all these years. She felt a fluttering in her belly, her hand wandering down to feel a kick.

“We’ll be happy here, I promise,” she vowed, rubbing over her belly.

She didn’t want to disturb Frankie, even though she could hear the TV running so she just washed herself at the sink before she put her Pajamas on and sat down on the bed. She would unpack tomorrow. For now she had to sleep.

The sun wasn’t even up when Claire woke up. She turned in bed, propping herself up so she could look out the window and watch the sunrise. She had to make a plan. A plan that included finding a house, a doctor and help. Though help would be her smallest problem. She already looked at houses in the area and it didn’t look good. If she had more time she would buy the house just down this road, but there was no way the house would be ready before her due date. She would ask Santi for help. He had a lot of connections through his business. Though Frankie too. Claire knew that he had a little gardening company since he lost his pilot’s license. He never really talked about it, but then again, they didn’t talk that much. She knew that he had some problems with drugs in the past, but that he has been clean for almost two years and was doing better. She also knew that there was a lot more to this story then he had told her. Maybe they would have time to talk. To really talk. Groaning to herself, her quiet and peaceful morning was interrupted by her bladder. Time to start the day.

For a minute she wondered if she could risk sneaking into Frankie’s room to take a shower when she heard music playing. Grabbing her bathrobe and toiletries she opened the door and walked down. Now being really awake she had time to take in the house. It seemed like there still was a lot to do. The walls were still unpainted, the floors still old, though she could see he already started with the floor the closer she got to the kitchen.

Frankie was sitting at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of him as the radio quietly played in the background. He had a serious case of bed hair and she smiled to herself. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she found herself thinking back to all the times she had thought that maybe there was something more in between them than friendship. And maybe there was at one point a long time ago. But that was before he joined the military. She might be selfish for it, but she couldn’t be in a relationship where her partner was gone all the time. She needed someone to be there. Even Though there had been times in the past she had found herself asking if maybe she should have risked it.

Instead she had slept with Santiago.

Yeah, that was a big fuck up. Well it was also a pretty good fuck but it was just once and they definitely were better off as friends. She still didn’t know if Frankie knew. Not that she had to explain herself. Frankie always knew what effect he had on the women around him, and he sure as hell took advantage of it. And now she felt nothing more than love for him. As a friend, nothing more.

“Good Morning,” she said quietly and Frankie turned his head, yawning at her.

Chuckling she walked over taking in the kitchen, setting her toiletries down.

“You weren’t kidding when you say you were still renovating,” she sat down next to him. He got up from his seat walking over to fix her a mug of tea.

“Still hooked on Strawberry tea, I hope?” he asked and she nodded, surprised that he remembered.

“Yeah. Though the kitchen and living room are supposed to be finished by the end of next week. So sorry for the noise in the next couple days,” he walked over and set down the mug of tea in front of her.

“Hey it’s your house. I’m just thankful you let me stay.”

“Of course. Couldn’t let you stay in the dumpster motel in this town,” he winked. She took a sip of the tea and it was perfect.

“So what are you planning for today?” he asked.

“I probably should start looking into houses. I’m kind of on a timetable here,” she rested one hand on her belly and Frankie followed her movement.

“Yeah. I think Pope already called someone for some houses. It’s not looking good.”

“Yeah I thought so. Everything I found on the internet was in really bad shape,” she sighed.

“It’s gonna work out. And if you don’t find something, you’re welcome to stay. The place is big enough,” he shrugged and Claire laughed quietly.

“Yeah I bet you can’t wait to live with a hormonal pregnant woman and then with a newborn,” she joked.

“I lived with Pope. Nothing can be worse and…”

“And?” she asked.

“I already lived with a hormonal pregnant woman. It’s not that bad,” he shrugged with a small smile. She looked at him with a small smile on her face.

“You say that now. Wait till I’m craving your mug cake at 3am now that I’m living with you,” she joked. Frankie laughed.

“Wow I haven’t had one of those in at least 10 years.”

“Well then it’s about time.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking at Claire. She looked more relaxed today, like she had a good night’s sleep and he was thankful he put in an overnight to finish the guest room for her. She deserved to relax. When she told him that she not only was pregnant but dumped by her fiance Frankie was furious, yet at the same time he already decided that he would take care of her and help her with everything she needed. It was the least he could do.

Even though they grew apart in the last years, she still was one of his best friends.

“Okay. I’m gonna go take a shower. I got to drive out to check on a project. You gonna be okay here for a while?” Frankie asked. Claire nodded, grabbing her mug of tea.

“Just tell me when you’re going out so I can take a shower,” she said.

“Thank you, Frankie,” she whispered when she stopped next to him and softly kissed his cheek, before she walked down the hallway. Frankie looked after her with a soft smile before he got up to get ready to head out.

Next chapter

[emo-and-confused]

Out of context things my Global Perspectives teacher has said:

Information: This was a 10th grade zoom class for the academy program at my public high school

“I know you’re all fans of K-pop, right?”

“You are not allowed to record. If I find out you are recording, I will find you, and I will destroy you.”

“Please ask a question, I’m so bored of talking.”

“I don't like listening to myself talk. My wife disagrees but-“

“It’s basically a “do you know how to read” quiz. so if you don’t know how to read, I don’t know how you got here.”

“Be prepared for a lot of dead jokes. Cause they’re fun. Cancer jokes are fun too. My dad died of cancer, so I guess I have the right to make them.”

“I have very little sympathy. If your grandma dies.. we’ll talk. If your grandma keeps dying, I’ll have to ask some questions.”

“I don’t text and drive, but I email and drive.”

“Do not copy me, I am not a lawyer.”

“I almost got killed so many times. I should've got killed, like legally. I still have both my hands which is surprising. so, I have so many stories of Saudi Arabia.”

“My most favorite child of mine, my dog.” (he has three human children)

[internet fluctuates] “Play the dinosaur game? What’s the dinosaur game?” (he learns to play the dinosaur game)

“Let me know if anything is going on. If your dad is currently dying of cancer, and you want more cancer jokes, please tell me.”

“I will drive to their house and cough on them and give them coronavirus.” “I will threaten you with biological abuse.”

“Have I told you my suicide Christian joke yet? No? Can I tell you guys my suicide Christian joke?”

“I don’t know my mom’s phone number. I don’t know my dad’s either.. but that’s for different reasons :)”

“Not the dirt on your shoes, the coronavirus in your lungs.”

“Speaking of addiction... nevermind I can’t tell you that yet.”

[to me] “You should not lie to yourself, I’m sorry that you do.”

“This is why you guys are so depressed, you guys don’t sleep.”

“You guys did great, give yourselves a pat on the back.... wow, only a few of us did that. The rest of you guys are losers.”

“I’m so white, I can’t roll my r’s, I’m sorry-“

“I just wanna get off the camera and go cry again.”

“Teah, Canadians, boring! Stop apologizing all the time! We get it, you like hockey!”

“Welch? Nobody cares about the Welch. They’re just smaller english people.”

“Don’t be stupid like me.”

“All of your teachers used to be stupid. Now some of them are less stupid”

“l don’t recommend making out with people with aids.” “Here’s a better suggestion, stop making out with people.” “You know who you should be making out with? Your spouse. Get married and then make out.” “You should not be making out with Jesus. That’s gross.”

“You know what else is dumb? The speed limit. Speed limits are dumb, yeah- you know what else? Tires! You don’t need them! They’re dumb! You don’t need oil changes! Yeah, that’s dumb! You know what else is dumb? Taxes! Screw the man!”

“No, the holy spirit will not get rid of aids” [pause] “Well—-“

“We can talk about pedophilia another day.”

“No wonder you all are addicts.”

“If you’ve been eating the same breakfast for the past 7 years, you might have a mental disorder.”

“If I’m ever on the show Naked and Afraid, please don’t watch, cause I'll be naked and afraid.”

“I know you’re not used to a grown man caring about you, cause you haven’t seen your dad in five years. It's okay. I wish he was around more often.”

“I got hit on at Busch Gardens and it was amazing.” “I haven’t been hit on in ten years.”

“If I ever get killed by the government, man, I want it to be a firing squad. That’s a badass way to go.”

“Do you guys wanna see me, in high school, as a Dr. Pepper can?” 

“We might not learn anything in this class but at least we have fun.”

“It is possible that I might have made some Dr. Pepper commercials. And it is possible that I might have made some Dr. Pepper music videos.” “Who says I'm not a Dr. Pepper shareholder? I have never made that claim.”

“Did I tell you about that time I waterboarded a kid? No? Ah, well that’s a story for later.”

“Yes, I do believe in Santa. I believe he is Satan.”

“I'm just trying to give you legal advice.. I am not a lawyer though, so don’t take my legal advice.”

“You didn’t go to sleep until 3am? I've been up since 3am! We swapped!”

“Murders have experience, I wouldn’t let them near my children.”

“Is anyone here a flat earther? I promise I won't make fun of you. Unless you’re {Con}.”

“I wouldn't let any of you near my children. The only one of you I would let watch my daughter is {Con}.” [Me, in chat: ‘why me??’] “Why? Because I feel like she could put you in your place. She's three and a half and has no filter. She would insult you to your face.”

“Welcome to my bedroom. I tried to say that as creepy as possible, I hope it worked.”

“[Con] have you killed anyone this morning?”

“Guys, I’m gonna announce my bias right now. I’m a round earther/”

(the class he says he’s quitting) [Me, in the chat: ‘who’s gonna call me out in the middle of class for no reason now :/’] “Who’s gonna call you out in the middle of class? uh... Molly! Your new job is to call {Con} out and tell them what a terrible person they are.”

“So yeah, I was almost possessed in Sri Lanka.”

“{Con}, stop. Just because you’re possessed now does not mean you can roll your eyes when I say I was almost possessed.”

“No, Kaine didn’t come into school. Kaine hasn’t left his room, in like, eight months.”

[tennessoui]

this is probably too many prompts lol but uhhh obikin: #6 meeting at a coffee shop au; #24 literally bumping into each other au; #40 exes meeting again after not speaking for years au (i'm a sucker for breaking up and getting back together again lol); #42 star-crossed lovers au; #48 meeting again at a high school reunion au

hi!! you probably forgot you sent this at all and I wouldn't blame you in the slightest. I'm pretty sure someone else already asked for 24, 40, and 42, so I wrote #6 instead! warnings for this one: bittersweet in that both anakin and obi-wan are sad, also the author is sad, also this takes place in the midwest in america (this is the first fic that is obviously set in america!!! wow!!)

6. Meeting At A Coffee Shop Diner AU (1.9k)

“Have a seat anywhere you want,” the hostess tells Obi-Wan without looking up from her phone.

Obi-Wan blinks and then looks around the deserted seating area. “Thank you, uh.” She’s not wearing a name tag.

“Angel’ll bring you the menu and take care of you, thanks for coming in,” she says, glancing up at him and then away.

Well then. Obi-Wan reminds himself that customer service isn’t everyone’s strong suit, that she might have had a rough day, that he’s here for the quick food on his way through town, that his ego isn’t fragile enough that he needs to be led to a table with a smile.

The restaurant is almost completely deserted. There’s two truckers eating their weight in bacon and eggs at the counter, and a family of four seated around a table, resolutely picking at their food instead of talking to each other. And then there’s Obi-Wan.

He chooses a booth by the window, one that overlooks the absolute nothingness of midwestern American scenery. If he cranes his neck, he can probably see corn.

God, Obi-Wan’s sick of seeing corn, and he’s only been in this part of the country for a few hours. He needs to go right through most of it to get where he’s headed. He’s not sure how he won’t die of boredom.

The thought sends a pang through his chest. It’s too soon to think of death even in an offhand way. He taps his fingers on the cover of his leather journal, before a line of dark brown under one of them catches his eye. He studies his hand critically.

It’s been two days since the funeral. Surely he wouldn’t still have grave dirt under his nails. Surely things like that wash away eventually.

“Hey,” a voice says from in front of him. A man is turned around and kneeling up in the booth in front of Obi-Wan’s, leaning over the garishly red vinyl of the empty seat with a menu clutched in one hand. His hair is short and dark blond, an undercut with a long fringe settling over his forehead. He has a nice sort of smile, one that looks genuine but doesn’t touch his eyes. Obi-Wan notices how long the man’s neck is and how predominant his collarbones appear in the loose white shirt he’s wearing, before he forces himself to focus only on his face. “I’m Angel,” the guy says, passing over the menu. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Obi-Wan accepts it gingerly. It looks like something that’s perpetually sticky. “Water is fine,” he says politely. “Thank you.”

“Will do,” Angel salutes him and ambles away. Obi-Wan watches him go before shaking his head to rid himself of any sort of thought, and opening the menu.

It’s standard food fare, of course. Breakfast options served all day if anyone were to come in and request them. Lunch and dinner options are also served all day, probably for the same reason: a diner like this can’t afford to turn anyone away, even if they want a hamburger at nine in the morning.

A glass of water clinks down onto the table next to him, making him look up at Angel, who’s looking at him curiously.

“You ready to order?” he asks, even though Obi-Wan is still very much looking at the menu and it’s also only been a few minutes at most since Angel gave it to him in the first place.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Obi-Wan asks politely. “I’ve never been here before. What’s good?”

“The water,” Angel says and then laughs like he’s said something funny. Obi-Wan finds his own mouth curling up at the sound. Sometimes people’s laughter is contagious, like a yawn.

And then Angel says, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No,” Obi-Wan admits. “North of Boston.”

Angel whistles, like Obi-Wan has said something impressive. “Boston, huh? What are you doing all the way out here?”

The pit in his stomach intensifies. He does his best not to look at his nails and the grave dirt that might still be under them. “Driving,” he finally says. “And are you...from around here?”

Angel’s eyes grow distant for a second, and when he focuses again on Obi-Wan, they’re cold. “Born and raised,” he tells him flatly. “Never got out.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to do with the sort of bitterness in Angel’s tone. It complements his own well enough.

“If you like eggs, I’ll put you in for the house special omelette,” Angel declares suddenly, all business again. “It’s four eggs, tomatoes, peppers, cheese. The usual.”

“What makes it special?” Obi-Wan asks, closing his menu and setting it down on the table in front of him.

“For you?” Angel drawls, “I’ll watch the cook to make sure he doesn’t get any egg shells in it,” and then he winks, holding out his hand.

Naturally, Obi-Wan shakes it. Naturally, Obi-Wan realizes a second after feeling Angel’s warm, calloused rough palm against his own that the man had meant to take the menu from Obi-Wan.

He can’t remember the last time he’s blushed this red, but he is absolutely regretting everything about this road trip. God, he’d pay money just to be able to leave now.

He should get in his car and drive back to Boston. It had been a stupid idea to come out here anyway, a result of stir-craziness and a desire to outrun the death of his father.

And now look what he’s doing. Shaking hands with his handsome waiter, as if he isn’t thirty-nine and perfectly aware of social norms.

Thankfully, miraculously, Angel laughs and this time it sounds real. “It’s okay,” he tells him, reaching out to pick up the menu.

Luckily for everyone involved, Obi-Wan finds it very easy to laugh at himself. “Well. It’s nice to meet you, Angel, I’m Obi-Wan.”

“I’ll go put the order in,” Angel says, “Obi-Wan.”

He’s back within five minutes, sliding into the seat across from Obi-Wan. So much for no eggshells in his omelette, but he can’t bring himself to be disappointed. There’s something magnetically fascinating about Angel. He’d like to know more.

“So you’re driving?” Angel asks, picking up a thread of conversation from several minutes ago. “Where are you going?”

“I was thinking of Alaska,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ve--I’ve always wanted to go.”

“You’re driving from Boston to Alaska?” Angel whistles, raising his eyebrows in shock. “I think the gas money alone would cost me two months of work.”

Obi-Wan shrugs. It’s not like he makes much himself as a teacher in Massachusetts. “My father was a lifelong gambler,” he discloses without really knowing why he’s telling this to a stranger. “He came into a bit of luck near the end. A bit of a fortune as well. And when he...died, I inherited it and his house.”

Angel touches his hand softly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “When did he pass?”

Obi-Wan huffs out what might be a chuckle. “A week ago, actually. It’s summer break in Massachusetts--I’m a teacher--and I suddenly had nothing to stay for, for a bit. It was either leave for Alaska or find some other way to cope.”

He runs a hand--his free hand, the one Angel isn’t touching--over his beard as he gives the man a rueful smile. “Dad always wanted me to see more of the world.”

“My mom was the same way,” Angel leans forward to tell him, as if it’s a secret. Obi-Wan feels like it is a secret, that there’s something delicate and fragile in the air. Something that matches whatever emotion is filling up Angel’s eyes. “Always telling me to leave, go get famous, go get happy, come back and tell her about it.”

“You didn’t?” Obi-Wan asks, his chest tightening at the thought that the man before him could be unhappy.

“I couldn’t,” Angel sneers, looking out the window and propping his chin on his hand. Some things must be too close to the heart to tell someone to their face. “Mom got sick. I wanted to get out, I was so close. Graduated high school, packed my stuff. I was going to go to California. To Los Angeles, really make it big.” He rolls his eyes and scoffs, as if there’s something inherently funny about the dreams he must have cherished for so long.

“Then mom collapsed going down the stairs. Just passed out in the middle of the day. Doctors told us she was sick. Then life became all about treatment plans and monitoring symptoms and getting the money for the medicines and I never left. Got a job here when I was eighteen years old, right before I graduated high school. It’s all I’ve ever known, I guess.”

“And your mother?” Obi-Wan asks, mouth dry and heart all tangled up in itself for this stranger man, for Angel with the hard, sad eyes.

“Died a year and a half ago or so,” Angel says flatly like he’s repeated the words so often in his head that the truth digs no barbs into his flesh. Obi-Wan knows that voice is a lie. How often has he looked in the mirror this past week and told himself, ‘Qui-Gon Jinn is dead’? He can’t imagine a year and a half would make the pain go away.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says seriously, reaching across the table to touch Angel’s hand this time.

Angel shrugs but doesn’t pull away. “Is what it is, I guess,” he says. “I’ve made my peace with it. And the fact that I’ll never leave this godforsaken town.”

“You could,” Obi-Wan points out hesitantly. “You could leave tomorrow.”

For a second, a wild and previously undiscovered part of Obi-Wan wonders what it would be like, if Angel did leave tomorrow--with him. If they got into the same car and headed to Alaska together and Obi-Wan wasn’t alone at the wheel and Angel wasn’t alone in this town. If Obi-Wan could look over at the man in the passenger seat, asleep against the doorway as they crossed into Canada.

Obi-Wan wonders. Obi-Wan aches.

“I could,” Angel says, laughing once. “I guess I could. I guess I just can’t think of a good enough reason to.”

There’s a call of his name from the kitchen, and Angel stands and stretches, checking the time on his watch. “That’ll be your omelette, sir, which is perfect timing considering I’m off shift as of five minutes ago.”

“Thank you then,” Obi-Wan replies, ignoring the pang in his gut at the knowledge he won’t be able to keep talking to him. “It was nice meeting you, Angel.”

Angel’s face grows dark for a second as his jaw clenches. “That’s not my name,” he finally says, scratching at his neck with one hand. “That’s just what they called me when I started working here. Angel, like Los Angeles. Cause I told everyone for weeks this was a temporary thing, you know? I’d be going to California soon as mom got better. Guess they knew better than I did.”

Obi-Wan has never wanted to kidnap a grown man away from a place more, so he hides his hands under the table instead. “Would you tell me your name then?” he asks, wondering if he’s overstepping but needing to know too much to censor himself.

“It’s Anakin,” his waiter says, sticking his hand out, no menu to grab.

Obi-Wan takes it gently, turns it over, and cradles it between both of his hands. “Then it’s nice to meet you, Anakin.”

Maybe, he thinks as he picks at his omelette and watches Anakin shoulder his way through the front doors of the diner before disappearing down the street, maybe he can stay a day in this nowhere town. Just an extra day.

Yes, he thinks, taking a sip of his water. He’ll try the pancakes next.

[pastelwitchling]

Somebody to You (1/4)

Chapter 1. Hidden Feelings

Alex Manes is Michael's best friend in the entire world. His platonic soulmate, in fact. That's why, when Michael discovers that Alex is in love with him, he panics. Rather than risk the loss of his friendship, Michael begs his brother Max to date Alex instead, and divert his affections. Though hesitant at first, Max agrees for the sake of helping his brother. But what happens when Max realizes that there is more to Alex than he first thought? Romance ensues, and as Max and Alex become closer, Max realizes that what had started as a favor to Michael has turned all too real. The only problem is that Michael never expected Max to actually fall in love. Can Max stay with Alex knowing that their beginning is based on the worst kind of betrayal?

               High school was hard enough without your best friend falling in love with you.

               Not that there was anything wrong with Alex Manes, guys and girls both had to admit he was pretty to look at, but he was Michael’s best friend. When he’d first come out to him last year, Michael had very pointedly not teased the question, You don’t have a crush on me, do you?

               Now, he didn’t know whether or not that had been the right move. If he’d asked, would Alex have blushed and given himself away? Or would he have been insulted? Or would he have rolled his eyes at the question like he did any time Michael said something stupid?

               Maybe if he’d asked, he wouldn’t have found out by accidentally eavesdropping on Alex’s private conversation with Liz. Maybe he wouldn’t have heard Alex’s tears, heard his voice as strung out as it had been, fueled by exhaustion and fear.

               “What if he doesn’t say no?” Liz tried, the words more a plea than an actual consideration to Michael’s ears. He could hear her desperate desire for her own words to be true, and the resignation in the knowledge that they weren’t. “What if he likes you back?”

               “He won’t,” Alex cried, and made Michael’s grip on the music room door handle tighten. “He’ll never talk to me again.”

               “Michael loves you,” Liz insisted. “He’ll love you even if you want something more. Look,” she was speaking more quickly now, “maybe if you tell him, you’ll feel better. Right? That’s why you’re crying, isn’t it? It’s just another huge weight on your shoulders, but if he knows that you’ve loved him since middle school, then – then maybe at least he’ll stop rubbing his one-night stands in your face!”

               She sounded furious at the mention of it. Michael thought about the last blonde, nameless girl he’d had two nights ago, the way he’d latched to Alex’s back the next day, eager to tell him all about it. The way Alex, the dark circles around his eyes darker for reasons other than the eyeliner, had shrugged him off and murmured some excuse about getting to class.

               Shame swelled in his chest until he realized he had nothing to be guilty for. He hadn’t known Alex had feelings for him!

               Oh god, he realized. Alex had feelings for him. His best friend – no, best friend wasn’t enough to describe what Alex was. His soulmate, the very half of his heart, wanted more than friendship from him.

               He swallowed, about to walk away. He shouldn’t be hearing any of this. He shouldn’t know any of it. Then –

               “No,” Alex said. “No, I’m just – I’m just tired.” He sniffled, and Michael imagined him roughly wiping his face with his sleeves. “I don’t want him to know.”

               “Alex –”

               “No, Liz,” he said more sternly, more afraid. “I don’t want him to know. You . . . when I told you, you promised you’d never tell him. You’re not going to –”

               “No,” she breathed, appalled. “No, of course not. I’d never do that.”

               “I know,” he said quietly. “I just . . . please, you can’t say stuff like that. It – I can’t – if he finds out –”

               “Hey,” Liz said softly. “He won’t.”

               “I can’t lose him,” he said and sniffled. “I’m just . . . upset because of my dad. The last thing I want is for Michael to leave me because of a stupid crush.”

               A moment’s pause, then Liz tried, “Alex . . . it’s more than a crush.”

               “Please,” Alex pleaded. “Don’t tell him. I never want him to know.”

               “Okay,” Liz said, and Michael heard shuffling. He dared peek into the room and saw Alex there alongside the piano, his back to the door, Liz’s arms around his shoulders. Her eyes were closed, so she didn’t see Michael. “I promise, I’ll never tell him.”

               Alex hugged her waist, and his body sagged with exhaustion against her. He hummed, but his voice waivered, like he was trying not to cry again.

               Michael had left then, replaying everything he’d heard in his head. Alex liked him. No, Alex more than liked him. What was he supposed to do with that?

               This wasn’t like finding out the local gay guy had fantasies about him. This was finding out the guy he trusted more than anybody, the guy he cherished more than anybody, had feelings for him. It felt like a threat to their friendship.

               Michael slumped against the driver’s side of his truck, his backpack barely hanging off one hand. This was Alex. What was he supposed to do?

               Alex liked him. His response? He clenched his jaw. No fucking way. He didn’t want to be in a relationship with Alex. It was Alex. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see holding his hand and going on dates with him and he’d seen him in the locker rooms. It was no wonder the girls here had had a memorial when they’d found out the hot emo musician only wanted men . . .

               It didn’t matter. He didn’t want anything with Alex. He’d had too many one-night stands and too many nameless, faceless nobodies to know that love was only something that existed in his brother’s books. Getting intimate with someone meant risking losing them.

               He clenched his fists. He would’ve rather died than lose Alex. He opened his truck door and climbed inside. He gripped his steering wheel tightly, unable to start it for a good minute as an unidentified dread settled in the bottom of his chest and climbed up through his heart.

               When he parked in front of the junkyard where old man Sanders let him stay, and he found his brother Max sitting in a lawn chair, he understood what the dread was. It was the same thing he’d heard in Alex’s voice when it seemed like Liz might let his feelings for him slip; Raw fear.

               As he stepped out, millions of worst-case scenarios swarmed his mind. What if Alex decided to tell him the truth? What if he blurted it one day in a fight? What if they were so happy that Alex got the courage to kiss him? What if things ended terribly and they lost each other?

               Max raised a brow at him. “You look like hell. What happened?”

               Michael could only shake his head as he took the seat opposite Max. He was due to work in half an hour, but sometimes Sanders let him rest up if he’d had a long day. And those last few minutes overhearing what he had in the music room had officially made this the longest day ever.

               “Tell me something,” he sighed, leaning his head back and not at all paying attention to the dotted white clouds across the blue sky. “Anything.”

                “Okay?” Max said more in the form of a question. “I – uh – saw Liz today. In the music room. With Alex.”

               He groaned. “Anything else.”

               Max nudged his knee with the back of his hand. “Hey, what’s wrong with you? You look like someone just smashed your guitar.”

               My guitar. The guitar that Alex had given him because Michael had offhandedly mentioned once that music helped ease the noise in his mind. How had he not known then? Alex had paid such special attention to him. He had read his mind and known what his heart had wanted and given it to him when no one else bothered to look past the excitement of getting to rebel under the bleachers with the genius trailer trash.

               How had he not known?

               “I changed my mind,” he said. “Don’t speak. Just let me wallow.”

               “Huh,” Max said. “Isobel’s been a fortress since she joined the Spring Dance committee, and you’re busy falling into your own despair for whatever reason.” He pulled a little brown leather notebook out of his back pocket. “Do any of my siblings have time for me?”

               “I’m not falling into anything,” Michael grumbled. “Why do you have to get so poetic about . . . every . . . damn . . .” he trailed off, his eyes narrowing at the notebook. “Alex has that same notebook.”

               Max hummed noncommittally, leaning back in his seat again and resting the notebook on his lap as he began doodling a rose. “Different colors though,” he said. “His is black. They got mixed up last week when he and I bumped into each other in the school hallway.”

               An idea formed, somewhere in the back of his mind. Like water on ink; something definitely there, but unreadable. He leaned back again, wiping whatever the itch was from his eye.

               “I don’t want to think about Alex right now,” he muttered, though even as he said it, his thoughts taunted him. Alex was all he could think about right now.

               “Whoa,” Max blinked. Even he knew how much Alex and Michael treasured each other. Michael had never said he didn’t want to do something where Alex was concerned. “You guys have a fight or something?”

               “No,” Michael said, though a fight might’ve been easier to deal with. “I found out . . . I heard Liz say . . .” He huffed, closing his eyes. He blurted. “Alex is in love with me.”

               Silence. Michael opened his eyes and saw Max’s expression completely unsurprised. He looked like he was waiting for Michael to get to the point.

               He straightened. “Are you kidding me? You really knew?”

               Max scoffed. “You really didn’t?”

               “No!” he gaped and stood. “He’s my best friend, why would I think he was in love with me?!”

               “Because he’s your best friend.”

               “So?!”

               “So!” Max said like it was obvious. “Alex hates people! Liz and Kyle are his only friends, he barely tolerates me and Isobel, and Rosa Ortecho swears he hissed at her once!” He huffed a disbelieving chuckle. “Before you came along, Liz told me he never said two words to anybody he hadn’t known since before his mom left. You want to take a guess as to why he warmed up to you so quickly?”

               Michael didn’t answer. Max grabbed his arm. “And for the love of god, stop pacing, you’re making me nauseous.”

               He tugged him down onto the lawn chair, and Michael sagged against it. He stared into the distance, lost in his memories of his first meeting with Alex. Alex had been bullied, pushed into a tree and made fun of for stares and feelings he had yet to understand himself. Then Michael had jumped between him and the bullies, waving a tree branch, screaming at them to get away or he would kill them.

               It had been the wildness of his eyes and words, wildness he’d gained from years with monsters for parents, that had unnerved them in the end. Alex had taken his offered hand with wide eyes then, and timidly asked, “You’re not scared of me?”

               Michael had known then that this twelve-year-old had been told too often that he was something unnatural, something wrong, and was expecting it from someone else now. So he’d looked Alex over, as if checking for bruises, and rested the branch on his shoulder like it had been a bat.

               He’d grinned and said, “No fangs or a tail. You look fine to me!”

               After that moment, Alex had followed him everywhere, his eyes never anything less than adoring.

               Michael shut his eyes. How could he have not known?

               A buzzing against his thigh snapped him out of his thoughts, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Alex was calling.

               “Shit,” he leapt to his feet, holding the phone at a distance as if afraid that Alex could somehow see him through the camera. “Shit shit shit.”

               “What?” Max followed and his shoulders slumped at the sight of Alex’s name. “Dude, just answer. He doesn’t know you know, remember?”

               “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, right, yeah.”

               “It’s still just Alex.”

               “Just Alex,” he repeated. “It’s just Alex.” He answered the call, held the phone to his ear, and all but yelled, “Hey!” He winced at himself and Max rolled his eyes.

               “Hey?” Alex asked, laughter in his voice. He didn’t sound like he’d just been crying his eyes out at all. Then it hit Michael. Alex was abused. He was used to hiding his scars. “Why’re you screaming?”

               “I’m not!” he said, then adjusted his volume with a clear of his throat. “I’m – uh – I’m not. What’s up?”

               He loves me. He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

               Michael, so caught in the thought, completely missed what Alex had asked him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry,” he grit out, “say that again?”

               “Oh, I’m sorry, is the auto shop really busy right now?” Alex asked like he knew the answer. “Pay attention, Guerin, this is important!”

               Of course, Michael had ditched time and time again because they hardly had any cars in around now, and all Sanders did when he was an hour late was yell and grumble, then give him and Alex an extra plate of whatever he’d had for lunch.

               “I asked what time you were coming to my gig tonight,” he said, a little more hesitantly. When Michael didn’t answer, he cleared his throat. “At the – uh – the Wild Pony? Just so I can save you a seat.”

               Michael let his hand with the phone fall, his shoulders slumped. For years, he’d owed that nervous stammer in Alex’s voice, the way he went from confident to shy with just a second of Michael’s silence, to nerves about his gigs. Now he speculated it was because of something else.

               Damn it. He wished he’d never known about Alex’s feelings. He wished he could unhear everything.

               He realized Alex was talking again, and he held the phone to his ear.

               “If you can’t make it,” he was saying, “I get it, I just need to know for the seats, you know?”

               Michael had never canceled on Alex before, but Alex was a little sensitive where his music was concerned. Michael assumed it was because he had a father and brothers who belittled what he did every day, no matter how often Michael told him he loved his songs.

               He gripped the phone tightly. He wondered what Alex would do if he canceled on him now.

               “Michael,” Max mouthed, “talk to him.”

               “Guerin,” Alex huffed a laugh. It sounded forced. “Dude, it’s fine. It’s one gig, I think our friendship will survive.”

               Will it? Michael feared. Will it survive this, Alex? Will it survive feelings that friends shouldn’t have for each other? Will it survive if I can’t help but look into the double meaning of every word you say now?

               He felt oddly frustrated with Alex, like this was his fault somehow. Like he was singlehandedly destroying everything they’ve ever had by wanting more.

               “Is it another gig?” Max asked, nudging his elbow. “Will Liz be there? Ask him if Liz will be there.”

               Michael rolled his eyes, about to snap at his brother that this was not the time. Couldn’t he see that Michael was suffering some emotional turmoil over here?

               “Guerin,” Alex tried again. “Are you there?” He heard a sigh, and Alex mumbled, “Is the reception bad?”

               Michael hated this. He was starting to scare Alex, and it was the very last thing he wanted to do. Max was still asking about Liz, his notebook, just like Alex’s but a different color, in his hand, and Michael clenched his jaw. Max liked Liz, but it would be so much easier for everyone if . . . if . . .

               His eyes widened. The idea that had begun to sink below the depths of his mind surfaced now. Before he could make it out completely, he found himself saying, “Sorry, hang on a second, babe, my brother keeps trying to talk to me.”

               “Oh!” relief flooded Alex’s voice and he chuckled breathlessly. It sounded so much more real, and that hurt Michael all the more. “Yeah, sure! God, Michael, you freaked me out a second there. Yeah, take your time.”

               Michael covered the speaker on his phone and told Max quietly, “I need you to come to Alex’s gig with me.”

               Max’s eyes widened. “Liz will be there?”

               “Doesn’t matter,” Michael said. “I need you to ask out Alex.”

               Max stared a moment, then, “What?”

               Michael held up a finger to his brother and brightened his tone when he told Alex, “Hey, Alex, can I bring Max to your gig tonight?”

               “W-wait,” Max said, “Michael, what’d you mean, ask out Alex? Was that a joke?”

               Michael ignored him as Alex scoffed. “Sure. But you’re definitely coming, right? Because I was totally lying before. If you don’t make it, I’ll never talk to you again.”

               Michael smiled and almost said, Would I ever not show up for you?, realized how Alex might take it, and diverted at the last second.

               “Uh – yeah – see you tonight, then.”

               It was awkward and unnatural for them, but Alex hardly seemed to notice, lost in his own happiness, as he told Michael he’d see him tonight, and hung up.

               He barely met Max’s dark eyes and crossed arms when Max said, “No.”

               “Hear me out –”

               “If your next sentence doesn’t end with, ‘and then everyone will laugh, and it’ll totally take the edge off,’ I don’t want to hear it.”

               “One date!” he begged, following Max back to the chairs and their backpacks. “Just one! Consider it a birthday present to me! For the next five years – no, ten years!”

               “This isn’t a favor, Michael!” Max argued. “I’m not going to ask your best friend out just so you can avoid having to talk about this!”

               “But –”

               “Besides,” Max said, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, “I’m not gay or bisexual or pansexual or anything. He’d smell a fake a mile away.”

               “You’d totally pass for bisexual!” Michael argued. “Look at you” – he tapped Max’s arms, his chest, his notebook – “you have the whole muscly jock with a tender heart thing going on, come on!”

               Max stared. “Do you hear yourself?”

               “Max,” he urged. “I need you to do this one thing for me! I’d do it for you!”

               “You wouldn’t have to,” Max said. “I don’t pass off people who like me to my brother like a freaking torch.”

               Michael winced, and Max sighed, his expression softening. “And I like Liz, remember?”

               “Then this’ll be the perfect in for you,” he insisted. “Getting close to Alex means getting close to Liz. Then, in – in a month, just until the Spring Dance, you can smooth your way to Liz, and Alex will know the breakup is coming.”

               Michael swallowed thickly before he said, “I know him. He hates being left behind, so he’ll end things first.”

               Max shook his head. “And he’ll be heartbroken. Assuming your plan works. Is that what you want, Michael?”

               Michael hesitated, then, “It’ll just break for a minute.” He added quickly, “Th-then I’ll come in, and he won’t want to date your brother, so he’ll know we’re better off as friends.”

               He pursed his lips a moment, then walked past him. “You’re crazy.”

               Michael clenched his jaw and blocked Max’s path. “I can’t date Alex,” he said fiercely. “I can’t.”

               “He doesn’t know you overheard anything,” Max told him, not unkindly. “Can’t you just . . . play along?”

               Michael shook his head, his fists tight at his side. “It’ll come out,” he said. “I know it will. Please, Max, I . . . I can’t lose him. I need you.”

               Those were the words, Michael knew, that Max could never say no to. Those were the words that he and Isobel used only in extreme cases, when guilt for taking advantage of their brother’s good heart had to be put aside to fix whatever had happened. Michael hated using them, had used them only once before in his life, but knew he had to use them again now.

               Max sighed and looked away, something like resignation settling in the slump of his shoulders. A moment’s pause, then – “Alex hates me.”

               “No,” Michael breathed, already smiling despite the pinch in his chest that he would’ve rather not thought about. “You said it yourself, he barely tolerates you.” He took Max’s journal and held it up. “And if anyone can make something into something more, it’s a writer.”

               *

               Max wasn’t good at being a boyfriend. Not that he’d ever been anyone’s boyfriend, but that was the problem. He had no idea how to flirt or tease or ask anyone out. It was why he’d spent the better part of the last year pining after Liz Ortecho, stumbling through his hellos.

               Now, for whatever reason, he was prepping himself to ask out someone for the first time in his life. And it was Liz’s best friend. The things he did for his siblings . . .

               As Michael parked his truck outside the Wild Pony, Max thought about the few times he’d seen Alex around town. He was reminded of the Greek mythology stories he loved reading; of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, and how sunlight couldn’t touch him. He was nothing like his brothers who were all on one sports team or another. Who seemed to have no problem being popular.

               Though none of them, he knew, were like Alex. The dark prince, the one everyone wanted to know for his mystery, but the one who didn’t want anyone near him. The one people gave up on because he was too difficult to approach.

               You had to have an in. And, Max supposed, Michael was his in.

               “Remember,” Michael was telling him as they left the truck. “His favorite song is Welcome to the Black Parade, don’t get him a beer until after his set, and whatever you do, do not insult Star Wars. He didn’t talk to Valenti for two days when he thought there were Jedis in Star Trek.”

               Max started to laugh, saw that Michael was watching him expectantly, and huffed. “Would you calm down? I’m the one who gets to worry here. There’s no way Alex will let me come within three feet of him.”

               “I already told you,” Michael said. “You have me. You just think about being your usual charming self –”

               “Is that supposed to be another joke?”

               “—And Alex will be happy to have you.”

               Michael stopped abruptly just as they reached the doors. He turned to Max and pointed a warning finger. “Just don’t kiss him.”

               Max blinked. “Excuse me?”

               “Don’t kiss him,” he repeated seriously. “That’s . . . it’s too far. He deserves to be kissed by someone who . . . really wants to kiss him.” He shook the thought out of his head. “Just – just don’t kiss him.”

               “I won’t kiss him,” Max held his hands up. “I don’t want to anyway.”

               “And don’t talk that way around him,” Michael grit out. “Anyone would be lucky to have Alex.”

               Max looked to the skies for aid. “Then you date him!”

               “I can’t,” was all Michael said, and tugged on Max’s arm. “Come on, you’ll do great.”

               The Wild Pony doors opened to chatter and cowboys and clanking drinks. Max heaved a sigh, tapping his fingers on his thigh. He could do this. He could do this.

               Michael patted his back and went on ahead. Max followed, thinking of what he’d say to Alex when he saw him.

               He considered, “What’s up?”, “How’s it hanging?”, “‘Sup, bro!”, and winced at himself. He needed more time to think of something, but he didn’t have any. He spotted Liz first, and Kyle and Alex beside her. Liz and Kyle were laughing about something, but Alex was focused on his music sheets, his fingers running over the keys as if making sure he knew the song by heart.

               Right then, Max realized what a terrible idea this was.

               “Michael,” he tried, reaching for his brother’s shoulder. “I – I think we should talk about this –”

               “Alex!” Michael called, and went ahead. Max was left stumbling behind him.

               Alex glanced up and smiled at the sight of Michael. “Hey! I saved you a seat up front!”

               Michael looked like he was going to wrap an arm around his shoulders like he usually did, then his smile dimmed and he cleared his throat, patting Alex’s arm in the end.

               “Duh, buddy,” he said. “What are friends for?”

               Alex glanced down for a fraction of a second before his smile returned and he pulled Michael to behind the keyboard to look at his song. It was like Max wasn’t there.

               Michael seemed to notice that, too. He raised his brows pointedly at Max, and Max cleared his throat, stepped forward, and said, “H-hey, Alex.”

               Alex looked up like he thought he heard someone talk to him, and his eyes met Max’s. His brows furrowed and he pressed his lips together, clearly confused as to why Michael’s brother was talking to him.

               “Hi,” he murmured. “So, Guerin, look at this, I used the lyrics you came up with yesterday.”

               “Uh –” Michael barely glanced at the page. “Hope you don’t mind that I brought Max,” he said, pulling Max forward. “He really wanted to hear you sing.”

               Alex narrowed his eyes at Max. “If he’s here to, like, make fun of me or something –”

               “No,” Max said at once. “No, I – I really do . . . like . . . music.”

               Alex stared a moment. Then he looked away, uncomfortable, and took Michael’s hand. He muttered, “Is he coming with us for ice cream after?”

               Michael chuckled and subtly removed his hand from Alex’s. Max could see the flash of hurt in Alex’s eyes before it was gone, and he thought he might’ve imagined it.

               “We’ll see,” Michael said, “about the ice cream, okay?”

               Alex scoffed and bumped their shoulders. “Yeah, okay. The day Michael Guerin says no to ice cream is the day Kyle Valenti gets into med school.”

               “Hey!” Kyle argued.

               “I’m kidding!” Alex laughed. “I knew you were listening in, you freak!”

               Kyle pulled Alex to him, and Michael kept laughing until he whipped around to face Max, then his smile fell away and he hissed, “Work with me here!”

               “I’m trying,” Max hissed back. “I am making him uncomfortable, Michael.”

               “He’s just not used to you talking to him,” he whispered. “Just – just – just . . . move in there!”

               He pushed Max forward, and Max nearly stumbled into Alex’s keyboard. Alex looked startled.

               “Max,” Liz blinked, “are you okay?”

               Kyle tilted his head. “You drunk already, dude?”

               “Uh . . .” Max started, and pointed at the keys. “I like your piano.”

               Alex raised a brow. “It’s actually not mine. It belongs to the bar.”

               “Oh.” Max nodded. “W-Well, you look really cool. I wish I could play the piano, so that’s – that’s really cool.”

               “Thanks?”

               “Can I – uh – can I buy you a beer? After your set?”

               His face burned as Alex stared. Then, while still watching Max apprehensively, Alex called, “Guerin?”

               Michael didn’t answer. Max turned to find that he’d started talking up the first blonde he’d found. Asshole, he thought, clearly looking for any excuse to leave him alone with his best friend.

               He looked back at Alex, and saw that he was watching Michael, too. His shoulders had fallen, and his brows pinched, but there was no surprise in his face. He was so used to Michael ignoring him when a better offer came along.

               He knew he should say something, though he didn’t know what. If Alex thought of Michael as nothing but a friend, this wouldn’t have hurt him.

               Liz then suddenly wrapped her arms around Alex’s waist, tighter and tighter until he burst into laughter. Kyle picked up the music sheets and complained why Alex never played any heavy metal.

               “You dress like you play it,” he said, “is all I’m saying!”

               They were clearly trying to distract him from whatever Michael was doing. Max scratched the back of his head, not knowing what to do himself.

               When the show started, Michael was already in his seat, pulling Max to sit down beside him. Liz clapped the loudest and Kyle offered a thumbs up. Michael kept his arms crossed, as if afraid anything he did would be taken the wrong way. Max could see Alex’s momentary confusion before Mimi DeLuca announced his song.

               Max was looking everywhere, namely at Liz, until Michael nudged his side with his elbow, and Alex started playing. As the first few notes fell together like a soothing waterfall, Max started. He looked to Alex, eyes wide. This was his music? He didn’t know why, but he’d imagined, like Kyle had teased, heavy metal or I-hate-everything ballads. But this . . .

               Not thirty seconds in, Max’s eyes had fallen shut.

               He had no idea how it had happened. One second, he was in a wooden chair at a bar where most of the crowd was laughing and talking over the music. The next, he found himself in a forest, surrounded by pine trees, with a clear lake behind him.

               When Alex started to sing – who knew he had such a smooth voice? – Max then felt the breeze of a desert night across his cheeks, the stars and full moon bright above, the rest of the world turned to peaceful quiet.

               The further along Alex got in his song, the more Max’s fingers itched to write. He couldn’t remember the last time ideas poured into his head like this, the last time he felt his heart swell with the anticipation of creating something.

               This was a song Alex had made up. Had he always had such talent? Max had never been to one of his gig’s before because he’d never been invited. Or he had, and he had been lost in the chattering crowd in the back, not paying attention.

               Now, he had to pay attention. He found it impossible to do anything else. When Alex finished, his friends and Michael stood to applaud. Liz screamed, Kyle whistled, and Michael looked prouder than Max had ever seen him of anybody. Max slowly did the same, staring.

               Alex looked red-faced, but his eyes shone brightly and he smiled widely, like even he could feel the emotion he’d just created. He stepped down, running a hand through his dark hair, and accepted the bottle of water from Kyle with a thanks.

               “Is it over?” he breathed after taking big gulps.

               “Yeah,” Kyle laughed, ruffling his hair and messing it up again. “It’s over, buddy.”

               “That’s my Alex,” Michael said before he could help it, and Max saw the blush deepen in Alex’s cheeks. Michael seemed to have realized his mistake, and handed a cold beer under the table to Max.

               Max hesitated, then held it out for Alex to take.

               Alex looked startled, but he was still smiling. “Thanks,” he murmured, accepting the bottle.

               “So,” Kyle drummed his hands on the table. “Ice cream to celebrate?”

               “Ice cream!” Liz yelled and Alex laughed. He turned to Michael.

               “Ice cream?”

               “Uh . . .” Michael looked over at the blonde he’d been flirting with. She waved to him from across the bar. Max saw the tick in his jaw, the way his fingers curled to fists under the table, and he knew that the last thing Michael wanted to do was cancel on Alex.

               Yet that was what he did.

               “Raincheck?” he said, and nudged his chin at the girl. “I think I’m about to live the Rockstar fantasy.”

               Liz frowned, disapproving. “But you’re not the Rockstar. Alex is.”

               “Well, the girls have to go somewhere,” he shrugged, already walking backwards. “If any guys show up, I’ll send ‘em your way, babe.”

               “O-Oh,” Alex’s brows pinched. “Okay . . .”

               “Max can take my place!” he offered, and turned his back to them. “See you tomorrow!”

               “Jackass,” Kyle muttered.

               Max opened his mouth to defend Michael, not knowing what he’d say exactly, when Alex said, “He’s just been really stressed out lately. He – he has all those honor classes. I think he should let off a little steam.”

               Liz did not look like she agreed. “Alex . . .”

               “It’s okay, really,” he said, then managed a smile that did not reach his eyes. “More for us, right?”

               Max stared. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

               “Of course I do,” Alex said simply, and looked at Michael’s retreating form with a forlorn look. “He’s my best friend.”

                 Alex seemed distracted. No matter how much Liz and Kyle tried to pull him into conversation, the best he could manage was a smile that even Max could tell was fake. Max felt kind of bad for him. He seemed to really be trying his best to cheer up, but every time a blonde girl or any straight couple passed, his mood dimmed again, like he couldn’t help but wonder what Michael was doing now.

               Not knowing what else to do, Max nudged his arm and asked the only question he could think to. “Did you really write that song you sang tonight?”

               Alex looked confused as to why Max would ask him anything, and he shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah.”

               Max shook his head. “That’s so cool,” he breathed. “It – I mean, it was really good.”

               Alex checked to make sure Liz and Kyle were too caught up with each other to hear them, then said, “Okay, what’s your deal, Evans? Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?”

               Max frowned. “I’ve always been nice to you.”

               Alex raised a skeptical brow. “You’ve always been polite. And that’s only because I’m friends with your brother. I know you’re as scared of me as everyone else.”

               “That’s not true!” Max said at once. “I’m scared of everyone!”

               Alex blinked, and Max realized too late what he’d said. He blushed and looked down, expecting to be laughed at. When he heard Alex huff an incredulous chuckle, he shut his eyes tight, humiliated.

               Then he said, “You? Mr. Perfect?”

               “I’m not perfect.”

               Alex scrunched his nose. Max was reminded of a kitten. “Aren’t you though? Tall, dark, and handsome,” he nudged his chin at the notebook poking out of Max’s back pocket. “And you write.”

               Max smirked. “But you’re all of those things.”

               Alex blinked, startled, and Max could’ve sworn he saw a pink tint across his cheeks. Maybe it was just too dark.

               Max cleared his throat and went on. “You should know then, better than anyone, that it doesn’t matter how good-looking you are. Sooner or later, some people just give up trying to get close to you.”

               “Is that what you’re doing?” Alex scoffed halfheartedly. “Trying to get close to me?”

               He wouldn’t look at Max as he said it, as if he was sure that was not what was going on. It made Max’s words come out more smoothly than he’d expected. “Yes. It is.”

               Alex stopped, surprised. Max also stopped and faced him. He could see Liz and Kyle stop out of the corner of his eyes, and prayed they couldn’t hear him.

               When he spoke, the lie left his lips with a little more trouble. “I like you, Alex. I – I always have. I’ve wanted to talk to you for years, but I . . . I’m not good at . . .” he gestured at his entire self, as if to say everything about him was an obstacle.

               “That’s why Michael brought me to the show tonight,” he said. “He knew I’ve wanted to talk to you forever. And I finally got to.”

               Alex stared, his expression unreadable. For a terrifying moment, Max wondered if he saw through the charade. Then he said, “You like me?”

               He said it more like a statement, a dare. Max could only nod once, gripping his notebook so tightly his knuckles turned white.

               Then he saw it. The doubt and suspicion behind Alex’s eyes. Alex sighed and kept walking. “Then let’s see how long,” he said, “until you give up, too.”

               *

               Max Evans stared. A lot.

               Alex was not new to people watching him. Everyone was usually curious about the youngest of the Manes brothers until they realized just how different and unapproachable Alex was, and then their curiosity’s limit showed.

               But the longer Max stared, the more curious he seemed to become. If he wasn’t glancing at Alex’s hair or eyeliner, he was looking at Alex’s bracelets, the rings on his fingers, the drawings on his shirt, his necklace, his nail polish.

               Alex felt like he was being studied. It was weird. He wished Michael was here to get Max to stop staring. He wished he could snap at Max to look away, but the guy was like a walking cinnamon roll. It was impossible to get angry at him without feeling bad.

               When Alex ordered his Neapolitan ice cream, Max not only insisted on paying for it, but offered a spoon of his own lemon sherbet cup for Alex to try.

               “Don’t you have, like, hundreds of other friends you could be spending Friday night with?” Alex finally asked.

               “Just my brother and sister,” Max confessed, picking at his sorbet. “Hey, since it’s Saturday tomorrow, y-you want to do something?” Then, as if it was an afterthought, added, “Together.”

               “No,” Alex grumbled around his spoon.

               “Why not?”

               “Because I always spend Saturdays with Michael,” he said, and immediately longed for Michael again. He wondered if he was having a lot more fun than Alex was right now. He tried not to think any harder about where Michael might be.

               “Oh,” Max said quietly. Alex glanced at him and saw that he was awkwardly tipping the melted part of his sherbet into his mouth. His lips twitched before he quickly schooled his features.

               He thought that would be the end of that conversation, but then Max asked, “If he cancels, you wanna do something?”

               Alex frowned. “Why would you think he’d cancel?”

               “Just . . .” he shrugged. “He kinda does what he wants, you know?”

               “Michael never cancels on me,” Alex bit back.

               He nodded, but wouldn’t look at Alex again. “Sorry.”

               Alex faltered. There it was, that guilt again. Saturdays belonged to him and Michael. He didn’t want anyone else coming along. He continued quietly eating his ice cream. At least maybe now Max would know to give up this ridiculous chase.

               “Well, maybe Sunday then?”

               Alex blinked and looked up. “W-What?”

               Max was smiling nervously, swirling the contents of his sherbet. “There’s – well, there’s this museum for fine art pieces. I – I heard it’s really cool, I’ve been meaning to go, but Isobel and Michael don’t really . . . like paintings and sculptures.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I know you must not either, I – I don’t know why I thought you would –”

               “Paintings?” Alex couldn’t help but ask. “Like Potthast? And Einaudi?”

               Max blinked. “Y-You know about them?”

               “I mean,” Alex scrunched his shoulders. “I’m not an idiot. I love any artist who pours themselves into their work. It’s” – he blushed – “inspiring.”

               Max perked up. “Right?! I’d do anything to be a writer, you know? Seeing people love something as much as I love books, it kind of makes me feel like . . .”

               “Like it all has to mean something,” Alex finished, smiling to himself. “I can’t love it this much for nothing.”

               Max huffed a laugh. He looked surprised, his cheeks tinted pink. “Yeah! Yeah, exactly . . .”

               Neither of them said anything for the next minute. Alex rubbed the sole of his shoe against the pavement and cleared his throat.

               “I mean,” he finally said, “I guess . . . if I’m really not doing anything Sunday . . . I can come. B-But only if Michael’s coming, too! I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

               Max didn’t say anything, and Alex chanced a glance at him to see he had a small smile.

               “What?” he demanded. “I said I’d – I’d come. M-Maybe!”

               Max nodded. “Er – can I have your number?”

               Don’t do it, Alex thought. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. Max was just a stranger.

               But he’s not a complete stranger, he reminded himself. He was Michael’s brother, and if Michael was letting him get this close to their tight little group, then he must’ve trusted that Alex was safe around him. And he could trust Michael more than anyone to look after him. He knew he could.

               “Yeah,” he said, handing Max his phone without looking at him. He saw Liz and Kyle watch him from across the street where they were twirling around a lamppost. They were tilting their heads and smirking, like they knew something he didn’t.

               Alex cleared his throat, and, as if his friends could hear him, added in a mutter, “Whatever.”

               Even Max smiled at that.

               *

               The next morning, Max woke to knocking on his window. He saw Michael and leapt out of bed, letting him in.

               “Can’t you knock like a normal person?”

               “Didn’t want to wake anyone else up,” he said. He smelled like he’d spent all of last night drinking, but his curls were wild, like he’d walked for hours in the desert instead of lying in someone’s bed.

               He nudged Max aside and sat cross-legged on his bed, shoes and all. “Tell me about Alex,” he said. “How’d last night go?”

               Max put his pillows up and slumped against them. “Fine. Good. Okay, I guess. He was mostly quiet the whole time. Did you have to blow him off like that?”

               Michael looked down and clenched his jaw. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbled. “I hated not being there. The whole time she was talking in my ear, I was trying not to get her to gag on me. I almost called Alex like fifty times!”

               He shook his head, as if eager to be rid of the memory. “Forget me. So he didn’t say anything the entire night?”

               “No,” Max said. “He did. I got him talking about music and other artists and stuff. I even asked him out to the museum today, just like you said.”

               Michael clapped him on the shoulder, happy. “Yeah? Max Evans, you sly dog!”

               Max couldn’t share in his enthusiasm. Would Michael have been so happy if he’d seen the look on Alex’s face last night? The way he defended him even when it was clear that his own heart was breaking?

               “Yeah,” Max said, rubbing his eye. “Said no.”

               “Well,” Michael shrugged a shoulder, “it’s not like he was going to fall in love with you in a few hours.”

               “Actually,” Max said, “he said he might be able to come tomorrow. He can’t today because you guys usually hang out on Saturdays.”

               Michael raised a brow. “Oh yeah?” He hummed, studying the blanket. After a long few minutes, he said, “I might . . . just call him and –”

               “Er –” Max cut him off, “he was pretty adamant that you would never cancel on him. Even after . . . you kind of already did.”

               Michael’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away. He muttered, “Yeah?”

               “Yeah, Michael,” Max sighed. “Look, can’t you just talk to him about this? It looks like he really cares about you, I’m sure if you told him what you heard –”

               “He’d hate me,” Michael said. “Imagine finding out that the one person you like knows you like them, and it makes them uncomfortable. Would you ever be able to look them in the face again?”

               Max pressed the heel of his palm into his eye. “And you’re sure you don’t like Alex like that? At all?”

               Michael looked up, holding his brother’s gaze. Max had never seen him so fierce. “I can’t date him, Max.”

               “Why not?” Max said. “You don’t think your relationship would survive a breakup?”

               “I can’t risk it,” he said. “I won’t.”

               Max almost pointed out that that wasn’t an answer, but decided not to. “Fine, well,” he laid back down and turned his back to Michael, trying to fall asleep again. “He’s not going anywhere with me on a Saturday, so see you tomorrow.”

               Michael did not leave, or say anything for a good long while. Then Max heard shuffling, and tapping. He peeked an eye open and saw Michael texting. Immediately, the look on Alex’s face last night hit him and he sat up.

               “What’re you doing?” he demanded, reaching for Michael’s phone. Michael kept himself out of reach. “Michael, I told you, if you cancel –”

               “I’m not canceling,” Michael murmured, brows pinched. “Just texting someone.” His finger hovered over the screen a moment before he hit send. “There,” he said, pocketing his phone. He didn’t look any happier than he’d been seconds ago. “Now Alex will be the one asking you out.”

               Max’s shoulders slumped. “What’d you do?”

               Michael didn’t answer, but the guilt on his face said it all. He was about to break Alex’s heart.

               *

               Alex had woken early. Last night he’d climbed through his window to his father banging on his door. He’d managed to sneak under the covers and play asleep the second Jesse had burst through, but he knew his luck wouldn’t last.

               It hadn’t mattered, because there was nothing that was going to keep him from an entire day with Michael. So he’d risen early, forgotten about breakfast at the risk of running into his father and being trapped inside again, and just had water from the hydro flask he kept by his bed – he didn’t care, he would eat later with Michael. He’d thrown on his favorite skull and crossbones t-shirt, his silver skull choker, and his rings.

               He felt silly fixing his hair in the mirror, running his hand through it so that the strands looked windswept. It wasn’t hard, as his hair rarely stayed down neatly. He’d learned to live with it.

               Michael wouldn’t ever like him like he liked girls, he knew that, but maybe . . . maybe some part of him might find Alex attractive. Maybe he might look at him differently without realizing that he was looking at him differently.

               It was dumb, but he could hope.

               At least, he had hoped until Michael met him in front of their favorite coffeeshop with his arm around Maria DeLuca’s shoulders. Alex had been holding two coffees, a caramel macchiato for him and a mocha for Michael, because he loved chocolate. He’d nearly dropped them at the sight.

               “Hey!” Michael called.

               “Uh – hey, Alex,” Maria smiled awkwardly. “Guerin,” she said, “I thought we were hanging out today.”

               “We are!” Michael smiled widely, taking his coffee and handing it to her. “With Alex! I always spend Saturdays with Alex.”

               “B-But . . .” Alex looked between them. He could feel his heart slowly sinking into his stomach. He pressed his lips together in a quick smile to Maria and tugged Michael aside by his sleeve. “What’s going on?” he whispered. “We always spend Saturdays together.”

               Michael tilted his head. “We are together.”

               “Alone,” Alex insisted. “Just you and me, remember? We’ve never invited anyone else. And . . . Guerin, Maria?”

               Michael laughed. He was laughing far too easily, and smiling way too much. He knew that of all people, bringing Maria would be a real sting. Didn’t he care about how Alex felt? And today of all days?

               “Come on, Alex,” he said. “I’m just trying to have a little fun here.”

               Alex felt like he’d just been slapped. “S-So being with me isn’t fun?”

               Michael rolled his eyes like he thought Alex was messing around. Alex, horrifically, thought he might cry.

               “Am I supposed to turn down a hot girl for you?” he said, taking Alex’s coffee and having a sip. “Seriously, so Maria’s coming. What’s the big deal, right? I mean, it’s not like we’re dating.”

               He reached out to pat Alex’s shoulder, but Alex flinched back, away from his touch. For a split second, Michael’s face fell and he looked mortified. But it was gone so quickly that Alex was sure he must’ve imagined it.

               He felt guilty, and dramatic, and pathetic. He felt cast aside, unwanted. All of that was okay, he was used to it. Maybe not from Michael, never from Michael, but he was used to it.

               So he did what he always did when he was reminded just how worthless he was. He forced his chin up, exhaled shakily, and kept his words steady. “I actually just remembered that Max wanted to go to a museum thing today.”

               Michael was still smiling. It felt wrong, but Alex couldn’t look at him too long to read into it. “Oh yeah?”

               “Yeah,” Alex took another few steps back. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to be away from Michael, but at this moment nowhere felt far away enough. “He sounded like he really wanted me to go with him, but I had to say no because of today.” He moved further away. “I really wanted to go, too, to be honest. It sounded cool.”

               “Yeah?” Michael sounded quieter. Maybe that was just because of the distance between them.

               “So if you’re going to hang out with someone else, then I guess it’s okay if I go, too?”

               Michael didn’t answer for a minute. “Yeah. No, yeah, that’s great. Works out for both of us, huh?”

               Alex turned around so Michael didn’t see his face fall. “Yeah,” he said, and began walking away. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

               Before Michael could say anything else, Alex pulled out his phone. He wouldn’t dial until he rounded the corner and was out of Michael’s sight. He fell back against the wall, his legs giving out under him. He held the phone to his forehead, breathing deeply.

               Kyle, he knew, was on a camping trip for the weekend with his dad. Liz was busy working shifts at the Crashdown.

               It’s okay, Alex told himself. It’s okay. You don’t need anybody. It’s okay.

               He may not have needed anyone, but he didn’t want to be alone today. So he dialed Max’s name, and held the phone to his ear.

               It rung twice, then Max answered. “Alex?” There was hesitation in his voice that made Alex blush. Was he not actually expecting Alex to call?

               “Er – hey,” Alex murmured, and rubbed his face with one hand. “Look, t-turns out I’m free today after all . . . If you . . . still want to go to the museum . . .”

               Max didn’t answer for a long few seconds.

               “O-Or not,” he said quickly, “doesn’t really matter to me, I just thought –”

               “Yeah!” Max said, “Yeah, I’m – sorry, I was changing. I’m ready to go when you are! Where do you want me to meet you?”

               Alex’s shoulders slumped. He felt a strange relief trickling through his chest, but it didn’t ease the weight on his heart. He muttered, “Wherever you want. Just text me the address.”

               He waited for Max’s okay, then hung up. He rested his chin on his knees as he waited for the message to come in, closing his eyes and promising himself that he would not cry.

                 Max didn’t live in a house. He lived in a mansion. The two story villa stretched out over a valley of cacti and desert flowers, the windows long and the front doors big enough to fit ten grown men standing side by side. Michael had once told Alex how he’d sneak in through his brother and sister’s windows, and Alex now had to wonder how.

               No sooner had he gotten to the door than Max came stumbling out, a bag thrown over his shoulder.

               “Hey,” he panted, “let’s go.”

               Without waiting for Alex’s greeting, he bodily turned Alex around and nudged him back toward the road. Alex was not new to being hidden away by boys who’d rather their parents not see him, but he’d already had his plans with Michael ruined, and was in no mood to humor any homophobia.

               “What?” he sighed. “Afraid mommy and daddy will know you asked out a guy?”

               Max blinked, surprised. He stopped. “What’re you talking about? I’m not trying to hide you from my parents.” He looked over his shoulder as if remembering they were supposed to be in a hurry, and frog-marched Alex away again.

               “Oh?” Alex rolled his eyes. He tried to ground his heels to make it harder for Max but had no will to do it. He was tired, but anything was better than spending the day curled up in bed, abandoned and pitiful. “The who are we trying to hide from?”

               “My . . . crap . . .” Max trailed off, and, following his gaze, Alex understood why. At the end of the road, her arms crossed, her purse hanging off one elbow, was Isobel Evans. She did not look happy.

               “Sneaking off?” she demanded. “Who do you think you are? Michael?”

               “Isobel,” Max warned. “Not now.”

               “Did you honestly think you could hide your date?” Isobel narrowed her eyes at Alex. “Huh. You weren’t kidding. It really is Alex Manes.” She reached a hand towards his face. “You were right, he is very pretty –”

               “Isobel,” Max slid in between Alex and Isobel, forbidding her from touching him. “I never said that.” Then to Alex, “I never said that. N-Not that you’re not – I mean, clearly you are –”

               He shook his head, and turned back to Isobel, his jaw clenched. “I’m not kidding, leave us alone.”

               Isobel was relentless, tilting her head over her brother’s shoulder, since she was almost as tall as he was. “Oh, what do you think I’m going to do, Max? Get out of the way, let me look at him!”

               “Alex,” Max said, his wary eyes on his sister, “I am so sorry about this.”

               “Sorry about what?” she demanded. “I didn’t do anything! Get out of the way, Max! Do you have any idea how rare it is to get a look at him this up close?!”

               “He’s not an octopus, Isobel!”

               “It’s a compliment!” She told Alex, “It’s a compliment, it means you’re really cute.”

               “We have to go,” Max insisted, fending off his sister’s reaching hands. “We have a thing at the museum and –”

                “What museum? Why didn’t you invite me? I want to come with you!”

               “NO!”

               “Why not?”

               “Because you’ll make it weird!”

               “What does that even mean? Scared I’ll embarrass you in front of your new boyfriend?”

               “Isobel!”

               Watching them, Alex should’ve been annoyed. But Max was being gentle with his sister, and Isobel’s eyes were so genuine that Alex could tell her curiosity was innocent and eager. There didn’t seem to be a malicious bone in either of their bodies.

               Crouching behind a building just half an hour ago, Alex had not thought he’d be able to smile for the rest of the day. Now, a giggle escaped his lips before he could help it.

               Max and Isobel stopped and stared, wide eyed. Max’s cheeks were tinted pink. Alex pretended not to notice.

               “Isobel,” he said wearily, “you want to come with us?”

               Isobel looked momentarily surprised, then pleased, a satisfied grin stretching across her pink lips. She lightly shouldered her way past Max and hooked her arm around Alex’s.

               “I like him,” Isobel said cheerfully, and pulled Alex down the road. Alex looked over his shoulder at Max, who blinked out of his haze and ran to catch up to them.

               “Why would you invite her?” Max murmured.

               Alex took one look at Isobel and smiled, something about her radiant demeanor an interesting contrast to the darkness he lived in. Maybe it was having a writer with him, maybe it was that he was kind of a writer himself, but he thought there was a fascinating story here between the three of them.

               To Max, however, he merely shrugged a shoulder and smirked.

               “Come on, Evans,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to think this was a date.”

               Max again blushed, and Alex again pretended not to notice.

Ahhhh here it is!!! Finally!!!

I know only three to four people may enjoy this, but I wrote it mostly for me, so my expectations are low. Or, I should say, that’s how I’m trying to keep them. Don’t ask me how long until the next chapter comes up, this is just supposed to be fun. Any questions about updates shall be ignored.

That said, if you did enjoy it, comment! Tell me what you liked, if it was funny, angsty, if it’s not your kind of thing but you decided to give it a chance anyway - I love that stuff. And share/reblog. You may not have liked it, but maybe someone else really will!