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kawaiijohn · 3 years

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Rewind, Rinse, Repeat Chapter 1

For Invisobang Minibang 2021

Ao3 Link

Chapters: 3 finished, 12 total Rating: T+ Warnings: Major and Minor Character Death- all temporary, Implied Child Abuse/Neglect, Strong Language, Mild Body Horror, Mild Injury. Other warnings listed by chapter Characters: Clockwork, Danny Fenton, Pariah Dark, Levi | Leviathan (OC), Mal (OC), Observants, Mentions of other characters Ships: Lost Time, Dark Ages, CW & OC child, CW & Levi | Leviathan (OC) Genre/Tropes: Human AU, Magic AU, Found Family, Character Origin, Hurt/Comfort, Original Magic System and Lore Additional Tags: Existentialism & Existential Angst, Memory Loss & Amnesia, Corruption, Clockwork Centric, They/Them Pronouns for Clockwork, The Fenton's A+ Parenting, Obersvant Bashing

Summary

“Clockwork can I ask you something? How did you become a ghost?”

The tale surrounding the mystery of Clockwork's existence; a world where magic is common and ghosts are not. A world where one lonely, average mage tries with all their might to save what means most to them. A world where things need to be remade into something better.

Shout out to my betas @bibliophilea and @moonlights-shadow-warrior for keeping me sane, @13thdoodle for letting me use their OC, Levi, @dailudannos and @sailor-toni for providing art for later chapters, and all the folks over at @invisobang for being awesome!!!!

Chapter One below the Cut. The rest is available on my Ao3 account because tumblr linking/posting is hella broken.

Chapter 1: An Inquiry

“Hey, Clockwork? Can I ask you something?”

Clockwork looks over from the mirror they were watching intently. “You already have, Daniel,” they reply, offering the other a smirk.

“Oh, ha ha. You've never said that to me before.” The reply is filled to the brim with sarcasm, as per usual. Danny rolls his eyes, but a small smile gracing his lips betrays the fact he isn't annoyed in the least. “Seriously, though. It’s something that's been on my mind like... every day for the last two weeks!!" He raises his hands towards the sky, flopping back in the air dramatically. "But... it's kinda, y'know. Personal-” Danny trails off, slightly embarrassed.

Of course. Clockwork finds themself smiling fondly- Danny thought he’d said something he shouldn't have- an inquiry that could make his guardian upset (as if it's even possible to upset Clockwork like that). A question is a question, and this is a worrying habit of his that the Time Master is trying to help break, even if it's still somewhat endearing to them.

“I uh, I mean... it’s personal about- to you, not to me. That’s what I meant!!” Danny continued.

Clockwork stares at him, unblinking. An idea (or thousands) of what he may ask flashes through their mind’s eye. With a single, calming pulse to their Core, Clockwork pushes the involuntary slideshow of timelines aside as if they're no more than curtains. They need to focus on the window in front of them; the here and now, not the temporal drapery.

It's a habit they are trying to overcome for Daniel’s sake. To ensure their ward's growth, they need to stop peering into the near future as often- not discourage his asking of questions. After all, what is a child if not but a well of endless curiosity? Cutting Danny off is also sure to disallow the development of any trust or patience Clockwork needs to build within their young ward. They wouldn’t receive either of those things if they assume what he wanted to ask.

It's common decency to not assume, lest it ‘make an ass out of you and me’, according to Daniel.

It is going to be a tough habit to break, but by the (other) Ancients, they're trying their best. Their ward deserves the infinitesimal choices all other children have when asking things of their guardians, so even if they do glimpse to the future, they will not mention it to him. Clockwork refuses and will continue to refuse to take their ward’s agency away; to not have a choice in things is a fate worse than fading.

The boy has been quiet, stuck deep within his own thoughts even after an impressive five minutes and thirty-seven and a half seconds of silence (uncharacteristic of the boy, Clockwork notes).

Now that just won't do- he must have lost his train of thought. Clockwork gestures at the ghost boy, motioning for him to continue. It works- Danny adverting his eyes and clearing his throat, "Well, it’s just like- you know so much about me- like, how I died, the whole Ghost Zone Prince business, that entire disaster doomed timeline with Dan... I just keep thinking- no- realizing, that I barely know anything about you!!” He throws his arms up in thinly veiled frustration.

Clockwork smirks. “You had another question, did you not?” They place a hand along the edge of the closest Temporal Mirror, turning to face the mirror- still halfway facing Danny. They can see his inner debate clearly written on the boy's face- the mirror reflecting as if it were an ordinary object (for now). They turn towards it fully and watch Daniel's reaction from behind them, acting as if they aren't finding joy in their ward's hesitation. It's always adorable when he tries not to offend Clockwork. "I may be able to work with time, but that doesn't mean I wish to float here waiting for an answer all day."

Danny blinks a few times, rolling his eyes again in response. Clockwork is certain that if they weren’t secured to his skull by human musculature they’d fall out and roll away. “Well, I’m sorry for trying not to be rude and like, asking outright... but since it’s you I have to always be super direct!! Jeeze you’re frustrating sometimes!” He floats towards his mentor, crossing his arms.

Danny often forgets Clockwork isn't easily upset over trivial things such as questions. Most questions are about things they already know the answers to, anyways. And the few things that they don’t know when asked, they figure out soon after. Such is the duty of the Master of Time- to be a step ahead of everyone and everything else always. Besides, in most timelines (68.3% of them, to round up) the question Daniel wishes to ask is along the lines of ‘What was your past like?’ Another small fraction (a little under 20%) the question is ‘How did you get so strong?’ . And even in the remaining timelines, the question would be along the lines of ‘How do your time powers work?’

They are each things Clockwork expects Daniel to ask them at some point or other, as it were. There isn’t really anything Daniel can ask that could be too shockin-

“Clockwork, I was wondering… how exactly did you become a ghost?”

They... did not see that coming… in any of the timelines they’d glimpsed. Clockwork stills for only a fraction of a moment, but it’s long enough for Danny to flinch, feeling as if he’s crossed a line. They hear more than see Daniel shrinking in on himself as they look off into nothing, buried memories waking slowly in their mind.

Clockwork is brought from their introspection by a mumbled curse. “Shit! I mean... uh crap??" They just stare at Danny as they are brought back to the present. "Never mind just... sorry for asking... Oh man! Did I offend you somehow? Ancients dammit, this is what I was worried about!!” They watch him curiously, soft whirring coming from their ward's anxious core. “We can just forget about it if-” Daniel’s hands wring together nervously, shoulders tense with worry and face full of guilt.

Right- facial expressions are also important for a young ghost's emotional communication and development. Sometimes the Time Master wonders if their isolation in Long Now affected their social behavior (it did). Their face is carefully blank most times, so they set to fix it- they offer a small grin, hand coming to rest on Daniel’s shoulder. “It is more than fine, Daniel. You asked if you could ask a question- which is in fact, two questions, I should note- but I gave you consent to ask it of me.” They squeeze his shoulder to placate the worry.

“It’s about time I told you this story, as it were. I just did not foresee it being told at this very moment." Clockwork floats slowly, turning away from their Mirrors. "Come along- it’s best we sit for this. I’ll have one of your friends bring us some tea.”

Danny floats after his mentor, looking around the room the two normally use to study history of the Realms. “So, uh… is it a long story or...?”

“Oh, it is very long, indeed.” They fly through an ornate door and over to their favored 'chair'- a stack of comfortable cushions in violets and blues, both impossibly cool and warm at the same time. They recall Daniel discovering the room, eyes full of wonder and posture relaxed. Clockwork chuckles- the first time their boy had wandered in here he'd decided to take a running dive into the pile, jumping up in surprise when it was cold as ice, yet warm as fresh laundry. The expression on their ward’s face is one of their fondest memories; a happy moment amongst all the tedium of watching time.

“It may take a while to tell this tale proper. But, it is a story that ought to be told.” Daniel makes himself comfortable on his chair of choice- an unholy combination of 'borrowed' pillows and what appears to be a more modern gaming chair- complete with an obnoxiously bright green-black color scheme. Clockwork has to hide another smile as Danny wiggles himself deep into the pile. “So, Daniel- what do you know of the phrase ‘Totems of Power’?”

“I thought I was getting a story, not a pop quiz! Unfair!!” His disdain for schooling makes Clockwork laugh fondly before the boy continues. “But they’re like… hmm how do I explain this? Well, there’s the universe right? Like every timeline and every result of every timeline all at the same time kind of ties into the main universe thingy- but there's still a main timeline, and that's kinda like... Main Street, and the other possible timelines are uh... like side streets with dead ends? But there's other forces that like, aren't time and… uhhh...”

He hums, crossing his arms deep in thought. Clockwork takes the time to purr-sing-hum at one of the many blobs floating in and out of their lair; Daniel had asked them to keep some around as pets and the Time Master was happy to oblige. They were unable to deny something so beneficial to the young Prince, after all. The one deemed ‘Mr. Pants’ by one of Daniel’s friends answers their call. Clockwork buzzes to it a quiet request- ‘bring Daniel's favorite tea and mugs for two, please.’ The little thing chirrups and zips off through the walls- eager to serve the Lair’s owner and be (potentially) rewarded with pats (from Daniel).

The Time Master brings their undivided attention back toward a grumbling ghost boy, lost in thought. “Daniel if you need to ask for help I’m glad to-”

Danny snaps his fingers, coming to a realization before his mentor can finish. “I got it!! The best way to explain it is ‘The Universe needs to run smoothly, so there’s certain forces- like Time or Space- that are upheld by a powerful entity, like a person or like… the avatar of that concept? Yeah, something like that, but they ensure the aspect they represent is properly cared for so the universe doesn’t completely like, die.’” Danny nods to himself. "It's why you stepped in to stop Dan, to make sure the world didn't end like that."

“That is correct- it is my job to ensure this universe of ghosts and reality doesn't crumble prematurely. Now, do you have a recollection of any other Totems you may have encountered?”

“Well, yeah! We call them ‘Ancients’, though- so like… Pandora is the one for war and history, and Nocturn is for like… dreams? The Void or something, maybe? And then there’s old man Pariah who isn’t one, but he said there’s a Leadership Ancient somewhere, and then-” Danny pauses, blinking at Clockwork in realization. “Wait, you asked that for a reason, didn’t you?”

“That I did. Becoming the Totem, or Ancient of Time is where this story starts.” Clockwork hums, seeing Mr. Pants fly back towards the two- nearly spilling scalding tea all over the ground. “Now then. We have drinks. We are sitting comfortably. I believe it’s time I spin my tale for you.” They take a sip, closing their eyes in bliss.

They open them once more and see Daniel sitting, eyes full of stars and eager- Eager to hear, eager to fire off a question a minute. It makes a chuckle bubble up in their throat, to see their favorite person so excited to learn.

“Once upon a time, there was a human; average in most ways, a simple person living a simple life. They would get up in the morning, perform their daily tasks, and go to sleep at night. Day in, and day out- a boring, but fulfilling existence.

“However, where this story differs from what we recognize as reality, is that in this realm, humans who could control magic were the norm. Think as if it were like one of those fantasy games you and Tucker play together- mages, healers… all of those and more were commonplace when I was alive. Yes, humans can wield magic now, but it is nowhere near as frequent as they could in our tale.”

They pause, seeing that Danny was about to interrupt. “Wait wait- this realm? Like- this is a completely different reality?? And people can wield magic now??? Are you messing with me? Like… I thought it was all just-” The boy stops, his train of thought drifting off the tracks as it tends to now and then.

“Yes, first, this is a completely different realm from either the Mortal Plane or the Ghost Zone. Second, Daniel- tell me... have you not noticed the magic of those you have encountered? Blood blossoms… a reality warping gauntlet? The existence that is ‘Freakshow’ in general should be a red flag, seeing as his talents were… strangely non-ghostly in origin. Not to mention objects such as the Infi-map...”

“Man, I wish I could forget about Freakshow… who mind controls ghosts??? He was the worst!” Their young ward crossed his arms and grumbles.

“If you’re done sulking about your past misadventures and former foes, I was in the middle of telling a story, if I recall correctly. One you asked I tell you…” Clockwork simply stares, unblinking as steam wafts from their slowly cooling tea.

All is well, they knew Danny would only take approximately 4.85 seconds to snap his attention back to their story. Clockwork sips their tea, waiting.

Danny snaps out of his thoughts only a millisecond off of Clockwork's prediction. “Sorry... it’s just super weird to think that magic actually… still exists? Like ghosts are real and all but magic being a thing feels a bit far fetched, don’t ya think?” He pouts, brow furrowed.

The Master of Time finally closes their eyes, removing the hood from their head. White hair floats gracefully behind them, settling just past their shoulders. Clockwork opens their eyes again- a serious, yet warm expression directed at their ward. “Magic is simply defined as reality altering acts using both energy and the willpower of a sentient being, if that helps.” Another sip. Mr. Pants made a wonderful batch of tea, as always. They smile wider when they notice Danny’s expression- the boy has never seen them without a hood, and they know doing this will (in 99.78% of all possible timelines) convince the boy to take what they said seriously. ”Just as ghosts can be defined as ‘ectoplasm given form and consciousness’, forces beyond humanity and the physical realm can be explained with scientific terminology if you know where to look.”

“So like... what all did magic have to do with this ‘simple human’ version of you? Did you ever have the power to shoot lightning?? Could I shoot lightning if I tried? Like were you some sorta time wizard? Is that why you’re all… timey-wimey and powerful?” Danny wiggles his fingers with a look of confusion on his face.

Clockwork always finds their Core warming when their boy acts his age. He's abnormally prone to shoulder the destiny of the world on himself and often forgets he's just a kid. “You could continue asking questions one at a time, or you could allow me to tell my story. The choice is yours, Daniel.” They smirk, watching as Danny purses his lips, his steady flow of questions stopping short. The best answer. “Perfect- all is as I thought it would be.”

They close their eyes and reminisce as they continue. “Now- to answer your last question… Yes. You could say magic is how I came to be the Master of Time in both the Infinite Realms and the mortal plane, but there is much more to the story than that. Other players, situations, and pure circumstances. The universe in its infinite chances and possibilities brought myself, as well as many others to the situations they face here and now.” Clockwork pauses, taking the moment to stare straight through Danny’s soul. “Even yourself.”

The boy shudders, an appropriate response. “Wait... me? Did you… do something in the past to like… a past version of someone we know?? Can that even happen???” Danny is already enraptured by the story, eyes twinkling as his mentor opens up about themself. The boy is obviously thinking about everything that has happened, everything that could possibly have happened, and everything that Clockwork could possibly drop on him.

They feel Daniel cautiously tug on loose strands of time to see if he could possibly scope out what is about to be said, quickly failing to do much else beside give himself a small headache. “Time stuff is still really confusing, Clockwork…”

“You could say that. You could even say that trying to mess with time in the inner sanctum of Long Now is the most confusing ‘time stuff’ one could do if they were not myself.” They grin- a Temporal Mirror appearing behind them with a thought.

“What’s the mirror for?” Danny catches sight of himself and looks away, embarrassed that he’s been literally glowing with power after trying to do something so simple with his developing powers. The glow is something he’s been working on suppressing recently. After all, it would be a shame if other ghosts could see the boy powering up by aura alone.

The Master of Time smirks, bringing tea to their lips again. “I thought it would be fun to attempt braiding my hair and doing my makeup for once. It has been an awfully long time since I’ve done either.”

They stare at Danny who just bursts into laughter. “Did you just use sarcasm??? Man, I didn’t know you could lighten up, Clockwork!” The boy laughs harder, sinking deeper into his nest of pillows. After a few minutes he was finally wiping tears from his eyes. “But no. Seriously… what’s the mirror for??”

“Why, what they are always for, Daniel- seeing through time and space.” Clockwork waves their hand. The mirrors show an image of a human with dark hair and burgundy eyes. They have a large, hooked nose and medium brown skin- and Danny finds himself having a hard time guessing their gender. The human sits at a desk, paused in time with the delicate gears of a clock sprawled along the desk surface, tools in hand.

Behind Clockwork, the image changes, showing the human living through an average day- images play in small spurts, never showing the whole story. “Do you understand what’s being seen?” The young boy nods, grabbing Mr. Pants out of the air as the blob drifts between the two. Good, he will probably need the companionship, especially towards the end.

This isn’t the easiest story to tell, nor is it easy to listen to, but with a sip of their tea, Clockwork continues.

#danny phantom #invisobang #invisobang 2021 #dp #phanfic #art #my fic #RRR #dantes vibe corner

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spaceskam · 4 years

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our fainted thrill carries on (9/13)

ao3

Michael took a deep breath as he stared at the cabin.

Alex’s truck wasn’t there and he was supposed to just be getting his things so he could go back to miserable living in the airstream. Still, it hurt. He felt like he’d fucked up. Which, he had, but he also still felt like he wasn’t wrong either. Yeah, maybe Alex lied to keep him from leaving, but wouldn’t it have said more if Alex had given it to him and he’d chosen to stay? Why didn’t Alex trust him enough?

He rolled that key over in his palm, the one Alex had given him and that he’d never had the option to use. It got caught in his bandana and almost fell to the ground, but Michael caught it and pressed it into his skin. Was it weird that he kind of wanted to burn it there?

Michael walked up the steps of the porch and slowly fit the key into the lock, turning it with ease. He swallowed hard and pushed the door open.

It was strange to be there now. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Or, it did, but it was like he didn’t fit there. He’d gotten that privilege taken away. Alex had told him he was always welcome no matter what, but…

He made his way towards the bedroom and saw all of his clothes neatly folded on the bed, waiting for him. Beside the stack was the piece of that ship, glittering in all its glory. Michael’s chest ached and he looked away from it, walking to the other side of the bed and climbing onto it. It still welcomed him, still smelled like Alex, and Michael was probably tired enough to actually fall asleep. He didn’t realize how hard it would be to sleep without Alex again.

Instead, he reached over and grabbed the remote to the TV, turning it on to watch the cameras. He’d gotten used to watching them all the time and waking up in the middle of the night to Alex watching them after a nightmare. He was so paranoid at night regardless of how much he tried to hide it. Michael had yet to figure out how to counteract that. It hurt him to know that Alex probably hadn’t slept at all the night prior.

Stupidly, he rewound the footage to see Alex doing just that. He was curled up in bed, looking at his computer. Michael decided to be creepy and he watched him for a while, curling up in bed as he watched Alex stay up all night and look over to the empty side of the bed every once in a while. Fuck, why couldn’t they ever just talk?

“What are you doing?” Rosa’s voice suddenly said.

Michael nearly jumped out of his skin as he sat up, eyes feeling a little too heavy as he scrambled to make it look like he wasn’t watching Alex. He wasn’t really quick enough.

“You’re supposed to be getting your clothes and leaving, not taking over his bed,” she said. It didn’t take a genius to know that her tone wasn’t it’s usual playful anger. This was real anger and it was 100% for him.

“I’m gonna go, I just…”

“Wanted to make Alex feel worse?” she clarified. He pursed his lips and shook his head, leaning back into the pillows. He wanted to be welcome there again.

“You do realize Alex lied to me, right? For a long time,” Michael pointed out. Rosa nodded curtly.

“And you publically humiliated him,” she said. He sighed, shifting in the bed. He pulled a pillow into his lap and hugged it close.

“We’re both in the wrong then,” Michael said. Rosa rolled her eyes and walked into the room. She sat down on Alex’s side of the bed.

“You are,” Rosa confirmed, “And you need to tell him that. Because I learned that I would much rather have you two fucking above me than have him blaring Blackfire at 2 in the morning while making bread for comfort.”

Michael smiled a little bit, “He listened to Blackfire for comfort?”

Rosa swatted his arm, but that didn’t keep him from feeling a little bit of joy at that. Michael didn’t know much about Alex’s mother, but he did know that she’d spent the first five years of Alex’s life laying grounds for the punk he’d grow up to be. The idea that Alex went with political rock music for comfort was almost adorable.

“He’s really upset. He was happy with you,” Rosa pointed out. Michael’s shoulders slowly dropped and he nodded, eyes going back to the camera monitors. They were paused on Alex getting up to go into the kitchen, probably to do what Rosa had said.

“I know,” Michael said, “But he lied to me.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to him? Why let it build?”

“I tried. I gave him so many opportunities and he never did,” Michael scoffed, feeling that anger rise in him all over again. He didn’t know why Alex would be so insistent about honesty if he wasn’t going to abide by it himself. It didn’t make any sense.

“People make mistakes. Just like you did when you called him out in front of everyone,” Rosa said, “So talk to him now. Find out why he didn’t tell you.”

“He told me why. He said he didn’t want me to leave the planet, so he kept it from me,” Michael explained. Rosa was quiet for a moment, so quiet that Michael had to look over at him. She was just staring at him like he was the stupidest person in the world. “What?”

“You both have the emotional intelligence of a fucking thumb, you know that, right?”

“Like you have any room to talk.”

“I do because I’ve had nothing to do for the last three months but watch psychology videos on YouTube,” Rosa said. Michael rolled his eyes. “You need to just talk it out. No yelling from either of you. You guys were happy.”

“Is this what you told him?”

“No, I told him to leave you alone because you’re not worth it,” she answered honestly. He scoffed, but she didn’t seem phased. “Look, I’m on his side. But I do think the only way you two are going to be able to get past this is if you talk, you make it clear you’re not going to leave the plane, and he makes it clear he isn’t going to keep things from you anymore.”

Michael ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it. This whole fucking thing was built on us being honest. That’s what we established over and over and over. He broke that. It was the one thing.”

“Was it the one thing? Or was it just trust in general?” Rosa asked, “Because you know he was lying for a while before you freaked out. What changed?”

Michael let out a heavy breath. What had changed? Sure, he found out about Sanders, but what else? Why take it out on Alex?

“I… I guess it was because he’d become more open about everything else and it hurts that he was able to do that when he knew he was lying,” Michael tried, “Like, how could he say he loved me so much if he was lying about something he knew was important to me?”

“Yeah, he was wrong to do that. But he wasn’t lying about loving you, even I could see that,” Rosa said. Michael groaned, throwing his head back as he hugged the pillow tighter. How fucked was it that he’d gotten into the habit of wanting Alex when he was sad?

“So, what? I just should apologize, forgive and forget?”

“No,” Rosa told him, swatting his chest again, “You should talk to him.”

Michael breathed in deep and felt his hand seize up, letting him know that he’d been clenching it for too long. He hated this. He hated that he wasn’t allowed to have good things. Why couldn’t he just put in the effort once and everything that followed magically be fixed?

His eyes drifted towards the piece again and he stared at it for a while. It felt like it was taunting him. It was no longer something Alex kept from him to keep them together, now it was just a stupid reminder of what was keeping them apart. How the hell did he fix that?

“I hate everything.”

“Welcome to life, Guerin.”

“So, I talked to my uncle‒you’re welcome, by the way‒and I got him to believe that I stumbled upon our history naturally.”

“And he bought it?”

“Of course. He had no reason not to.”

Alex accepted the bag of Taco Bell that Cam all but hurled at his face. They’d agreed to meet up at Kyle’s apartment after work to go over some details of what to do next. He didn’t mind. More time away from home meant more time to not focus on the distinct smell of rain that Michael had left in his room.

“He told me he couldn’t tell me much over the phone, which I buy. He wants me to go to Alburquerque to have a talk with him and my cousins so they can catch me up,” Cam carried on as Alex unwrapped the burrito to put hot sauce inside, “I have a feeling they know Jesse Manes tried to talk to me.”

“But aren’t they on Jesse’s side? Like, M.V.C. was originally meant to help, but it went dark side. Isn’t all of it tainted? Meaning your cousins and uncle too,” Kyle said. Cam nodded, taking over the side of the couch.

“I’m sure, but that doesn’t mean they like Jesse. I mean, your dad was apart of it and he wasn’t Jesse’s biggest fan by the end of it,” she explained. Kyle nodded in understanding. “Point is, I agreed to go down there this weekend.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed, “Who do I look like?”

“A woman with a plan,” Alex chimed in. She flashed a little smile before nodding.

“You two are coming down with me. While I’m talking to my uncle, you two are going to go talk to my cousin. Just… a little undercover,” she said, looking between them, “I want you guys to get a feel on him without him knowing who you are and see if we can gauge just how much sketchy shit they’re in.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Kyle asked.

“I did a deep dive and my cousin Casey frequents a gay club in his free time,” Cam explained, turning her eyes to Alex, “Gonna need you to turn on the charm, Manes.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Why me?”

“If I had to sweet talk your brother, you have to sweet talk my cousin.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that, that was Kyle.”

“Okay, and you think Kyle can believably flirt with another man for information?” she said, giving Alex that look like they both knew the answer. And they did. Kyle was a lot of things, but manipulative wasn’t one of them. He didn’t think he’d be able to do that at all.

“Okay, fine,” Alex agreed. Not like he had anything holding him back. Besides, maybe it could be fun.

“I feel like I should be insulted,” Kyle commented. After a few seconds of them staring at him with faces that said ‘really?’, he just rolled his eyes in reluctant agreement and went back to his taco.

“So, I’m thinking I go to my uncle’s and he gives me the rundown of the operation. When he tries to recruit me, I say yes, I get unlimited access to other information we might not have in the Valenti and Manes files,” Cam explained. They nodded, downloading the plan in their minds. It really was a good distraction. Much better than the bullshit Michael had decided on. “Alex goes to the club, charms Casey, ask him about his tattoo. I trust you to be able to dig into that without coming off as a threat. Kyle, you can either go with Alex or stay at the hotel and make sure we both make it back.”

“I’m going with Alex.”

“Why? I don’t need backup,” Alex said. Kyle just tilted his head in doubt. Alex raised his eyebrows. “Why the fuck do you think I need backup or that you of all people would be helpful backup?”

“Because…” Kyle said, waving his head in a flippant little circle as if he should know. Alex just kept staring and so did Cam, waiting for him to explain what his thought process was. He eventually sighed. “Look, you’re the strongest person I know, but… that’s going to be an overwhelming environment.” Alex rolled his eyes.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I know you are, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry.”

“Kyle, I am a grown ass man.”

“Yeah, and I would feel better if I could watch over you when you’re trying to go after someone who may or may not want to kill you because you’re related to your dad,” Kyle said, “So just let me come and we’ll both be happy.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but decided that wasn’t really something he could argue. If Kyle wanted to play babysitter, he could.

“Fine,” he agreed. Kyle smiled like he was proud of himself.

As Cam started to go over how exactly she’d worded that conversation with her uncle, Alex’s phone buzzed. He very reluctantly fetched it out of his pocket in the middle of taking a bite of his burrito, feeling dread slowly build in his system as he saw Michael’s name. Now what?

Michael: I’m sorry

Michael: I shouldn’t have yelled at you in front of everyone like that. I want to be better than that and I’m sorry

Alex stared at the two messages, completely lost on how to respond or if he even should. An apology was nice and all, but it still felt weird. He wasn’t quite sure that he deserved an apology. Or, at least, not for that. That was a natural reaction to being lied to. He more so would’ve preferred an apology about the whole sleeping with him out of hatred thing. That hurt more.

“Alex.”

He snapped his head up to see Kyle and Cam staring at him in two completely different levels of concern. He locked his phone and dropped it.

“Are you okay?” Kyle asked, voice a bit softer, “We haven’t really… talked since yesterday. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alex sighed, shifting in his seat.

“You can talk to us, you know?” Cam said honestly. Alex’s eyes drifted to her and she made unbreakable eye contact. He wasn’t actually sure what he did to deserve a friend like that.

“I’m just… I don’t know, I feel like he was being unnecessarily cruel. Which I guess, like, isn’t that out of character for him, but it… I don’t know, it feels worse than usual somehow,” Alex said before groaning and leaning back into the couch. His eyes mindlessly drifted to the front door and then the windows.

“Well, it is worse. You two have been on a good page for a couple months now. It hurts more because it is worse,” Kyle said. Alex shrugged a shoulder.

“I guess. Just hate that he decided it was okay to make me think we were moving forward when it was really just, like, fake,” Alex said, that wave of pain twisting his chest all over again. He tried to will it away, but it didn’t work. It still hurt. “Like why connect with me that way if it was a distraction?”

“He said it was a distraction?” Kyle clarified, “What a fucking dick.”

“That’s the thing, it kinda has been a distraction before. It’s always been easier to just fall into bed instead of talking, but this time… I don’t know, it felt like a step back and now I don’t know what to do,” Alex sighed.

“Honestly, my advice? Focus on the mission. Once we dismantle Project Shepard and it’s little cult counterpart, then we’ll be good and you can put all your focus into that,” Cam suggested. Alex sighed and nodded.

“You’re right.”

“But don’t bury your feelings,” Kyle jumped in, “If you’re upset, you can talk to us.”

Alex looked between them and gave a little smile. He actually believed that.

“I know. Thanks.”

“Now let’s get to planning.”

Michael Guerin wasn’t exactly known for his fantastic ideas and today was absolutely not an exception.

After his talk with Rosa and Alex leaving his apology on read, he decided that the best way to actually move a step forward was to do something useful for once. Alex had told him about that sheet of paper that was from the original M.V.C. with ink that was specifically tailored to be useful for aliens. He felt that was pretty advanced for 1948 America. He also had it on good authority (Kyle) that Alex got a little shaken up when it came to trying to get information out of his father. So, maybe, if he got information on that, Alex would sit down with him and they could talk it out.

Alex made a mistake, Michael made a mistake, Michael got the piece, Alex got the information, fair and square, right?

It was when he drove up to the Manes residence that he considered that he might have had a lapse in judgement. Yet, he still got out of the car and let himself into the front door, so maybe he was thriving on that lack of judgment. Part of him felt a little guilty for letting himself into someone else’s house without them knowing; he was committing Alex’s biggest fear. But he was committing it against a piece of shit who hurt Alex, so that felt like enough to excuse his behavior.

He moved as silently as his body would allow, but, as a telekinetic, he’d never really had to work on bodily subtlety. Jesse Manes was already aware of his presence by the time he made himself known, standing with his back to the fireplace. Michael smiled at the man in front of him.

“Hey, Chief,” he said, “Long time, no see.”

Jesse eyed him and nodded his head. It was like he had expected Michael to show up here some day and had just been waiting. Which, honestly, was sort of impressive. Even Michael hadn’t planned this out.

“What are you doing here?” Jesse asked, his walls up high as if actually scared of what Michael could do. That was almost funny given their history. Then again, here he had no weapons immediately on hand and he was alone. The only one around was Flint and he’d left not long before Michael pulled up, he checked. Besides, if something did happen, would Flint really be mad? Unlikely.

“Thought we could talk,” Michael said, walking around to sit on the couch and finding extra confidence in the way Alex’s jeans hugged his thighs. He figured if he acted all casual, it’d be for the best. The more unhinged he was, the more Jesse had the upper hand. It was easier if he pretended he had everything under control regardless of the situation. He learned that from Alex. “Heard of a little thing called M.V.C.?”

Jesse shook his head condescendingly.

“Clearly I can’t tell my son anything in confidence.”

“Clearly,” Michael said, smiling easily, “So why not tell me a thing or two?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Aw, come on,” he urged, “It’ll be fun.”

Things fell silent as Jesse seemed to look around and become aware of his exits. It was like getting whiplash, seeing one of Alex’s traits so obvious in his father. Was that how he was raised? To always be on edge? To always be aware of the monster under the bed, in the corner, on the couch?

“Someone directly involved in M.V.C. wrote my mother a note back in 1948,” Michael said blatantly. Jesse didn’t show his shock at that statement, but, again, he shared Alex’s tell signs. “They were warning her of the attack, but they told her it was later than it came. What do you happen to know about that?”

“What makes you think I know anything about that?”

“Because I happen to know that you’re obsessive ass probably has every single detail memorized,” Michael said simply, “So tell me.”

He said nothing.

“What, you plead the fifth?” Michael asked, “‘Cause I think you should tell me.”

“You do realize I get nothing out of it if I tell you? You seem to think I’m stupid,” Jesse said. Michael shrugged.

“Thought you might say that,” he said, digging in his pocket for that piece of paper with the writing on it, “Thought you might also want this. You tell me what you know about it and I had it over, no further questions.”

Again, silence. Michael didn’t waver as they stared at each other. He wasn’t going to back down. He wasn’t going to turn up to talk to Alex empty handed along with his apology. Classified information was so much better than flowers and chocolate.

“Listen, Alex located the C part of M.V.C. Whatever you don’t tell us, we’ll find out in a different avenue. Why don’t you play nice for a minute?”

And just like Michael had learned to read Alex, he saw the moment Jesse decided it was worth it.

“This information goes directly to my son, doesn’t it?” Jesse clarified. Michael raised an eyebrow as if to say obviously. He sighed and rolled his shoulders. “If I tell you what I tell you, you have tell him not to investigate the Camerons that are active.”

Michael couldn’t hide the confusion that overcame him.

“Why would I do that?” Michael asked. Jesse clenched his jaw and, for a moment, it almost seemed like he was worried for Alex. Or maybe that was simply wishful thinking and he was actually worried for himself.

“They’re dangerous.”

“You’re dangerous.”

“No,” Jesse said, huffing a laugh as he shook his head, “No, I do what I do because I understand your people are volatile and manipulative and I was taught to protect my legacy. Which is why I don’t affiliate with them. The Camerons that are still active are dangerous to everyone.”

Michael eyed him, but he still nodded. Sure, he wasn’t actually going to believe that 100%, but it wouldn’t hurt to tell Alex to be a little extra cautious. Even though it was strange to hear Jesse actually sound like he gave a shit.

“Right, then,” Jesse sighed, walking over to a cabinet. Michael watched him carefully, half expecting him to pull out a gun. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of old whiskey and two glasses. Michael watched with absolute hesitation as he poured them and handed one to him.

“You expect me to believe this isn’t poison?” Michael asked. Jesse simply shrugged and sat in the large lounge chair that faced him, taking a swig. As he got more comfortable, Michael got more on edge.

“I’m extending niceties,” Jesse explained, taking another swig, “Do you want information or not?”

Michael didn’t trust him one bit, he really, really didn’t. He was horrible and abusive and murderous. But he still took a sip of that whiskey and relished in the way it burned his throat.

Then Jesse started talking.

Alex was exhausted as he made his way into the cabin, struggling to drag himself around to check all the locks.

He had a busy weekend ahead of him and he needed to sleep. It didn’t matter that Michael wasn’t here, he would just have to deal with it. He’d accepted (with a little push from Kyle) that he would just have to take a Zoloft before bed so he could calm down enough to sleep. If he stayed up another night, everyone would be screwed.

So he looked over the locks twice for good measure and he made his way into his bedroom, noticing that Michael’s clothes and the piece were still on the bed. Had he not come at all? Was that what the point of the apology was? He just wasn’t coming back?

Alex shook his head and grabbed them, going to his closet to hide them away for the night. However, he scoffed as he realized his last pair of clean jeans were missing. What a fucking bastard.

Despite his annoyance, Alex grabbed something to sleep in and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He brushed his teeth, changed his clothes, washed his face, and even took his meds. He looked at himself in the mirror and forced himself to relax. He was going to be fine. He didn’t need Michael.

Yet, as he turned to leave the bathroom, the man in question was standing right there in the doorway.

Alex’s instincts were already in action though, fist swinging in self defense. Michael, however, caught it and decided it was okay to put his arm around Alex’s waist to steady him, looking him in the eye as he panicked. And Alex was indeed panicking, staring in his eyes as he tried to calm his heart rate. He allowed Michael to hold him there for a few seconds before he pushed him away, taking a step back.

“What the fuck, Guerin?!” Alex snapped. Michael held up his hands in defense, only looking slightly alarmed and that seemed to stem more from Alex’s panic than the fact Alex almost fucking hit him.

“Sorry,” he said, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I-I’ve never actually snuck up on you before, didn’t think that was possible.”

Alex shook his head, a weird mix of anger and hurt and embarrassment filling him as he stared at him. He was too tired, he was off his game. That was bad. But why the fuck was he even here?

“What do you want?” Alex asked. Michael licked his lips and swallowed harshly, hands still held up beside his head.

“We need to talk.”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows, slightly confused. Now they needed to talk? But Michael looked deadly serious, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“It’s important. We need to talk. About a lot of things.”

Despite any type of judgement, Alex nodded and gestured towards the bedroom. He had no idea where this was going, but he was nothing if not a sucker for Michael Guerin. He was willing to listen to anything he had to say.

“Alright. Let’s talk.”

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #our fainted thrill carries on

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kilibaggins · 4 years

Text

Only Each Other

hiya !! u probably have alot of other request, but i’d really like to see a fluffy murph/bell oneshot. maybe that its christmas and they cuddle with alot of blankets and hot chocolate and stuff ;)

A/N: Love this idea. This literally sprung me to make a whole AU idea lol

Warning: Fluff, nsfw jokes

“Bellamy, I’m cold! Come here and shut up!” Murphy yells from his little cocoon of blankets. He’s absolutely freezing and he has been all night. He’s been curled up for hours but he still doesn’t have luck warming up. Bellamy bangs a pot loudly, obviously making more noise just to annoy Murphy. “You’re so childish. Who’s the younger one in this relationship again?” Murphy yells out, smirking softly. Bellamy bangs the pot even louder against the counter causing Murphy to laugh. Murphy waits a few minutes hoping maybe Bellamy would change hi smind, and strut in here with his solid body of warmth. But after about 4 minutes of waiting he gets up, whining. He keeps the blankets wrapped around him and he shuffles out their bedroom door and down the cold hallway to the kitchen. He hears Bellamy softly murmuring to himself as he walks into the kitchen. Bellamy grabs chocolate chips and Murphy watches with narrowed eyes as Bellamy pours a bunch in. This peaks Murphy’s interest so he walks closer and tries to look into the pan. Bellamy turns to him and wags a finger.

“Nope! It’s a surprise! Go sit!” Bellamy says gesturing vaguely over at the table. Murphy pouts again and grumbles as he walks over to the table, sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. He makes sure the blankets are still wrapped around him tightly before he Crosses his arms and lays his head in them. He must have fallen asleep, because he’s being shaken softly awake by Bellamy and when he looks up he sees Bellamy waving around a couple mugs. Murphy narrows his eyes in suspicion.

“What’s in the cups?” Murphy asks sitting up and glaring at the mugs. Bellamy laughs softly and shakes his head.

“What, do you think I'm poisoning you?” Bellamy asks, still laughing softly. Murphy tries to look inside the mugs, but Bellamy moves them away quickly. He gestures towards the living room and Murphy goes towards it. When Murphy walks in his eyes widen at how beautiful it is. A gran christmas tree is in the corner, and presents are stacked underneath it. He looks around and sees lights strone up and around the room, and his eyes widen. He looks to the center of the room and squeals softly seeing the diy fort made up in the middle. He runs over to it, and opens it, looking inside to see snacks, comic books, Bellamy’s laptop, Huge stacks of pillows, Some of the papers Bellamy needs to grade, a stack of Books near the back, and a bottle of wine. Murphy pulls his head from inside the fort and looks at Bellamy with wide eyes, and his mouth is in an ‘O’ shape as he looks at him. Bellamy chuckles softly and slowly climbs in, Mugs still in hand. He moves himself back until he can lean on the pillows he has stacked up. He smiles softly at Murphy’ childlike face.

“Come here. Cuddle with me, and watch Supernatural with me.” Bellamy says, putting down the mugs and grabbing his laptop that is also in the mess of goods. Murphy feels his eyes tear up as he looks at everything. He gasps in a breath as Bellamy looks at him in concern. He crawls forward and Grabs Murphy’s hand.

“Baby, are you okay?” Bellamy asks softly. Murphy nods and basically tackles Bellamy down onto the blankets strone on the floor. Bellamy hugs him and rubs his back as Murphy softly cries into Bellamy's shoulder.

“Nobody has ever done something like this for me before.” He cries, pulling away and looking down at Bellamy’s smiling face. Bellamy reches up and tucks a strand of Murphy’s hair behind his ear.

“You deserve it. I know you don’t believe in God, and Jesus, and Stuff…. But this is my little christmas Gift to you. To show you i love you, and to show i appreciate you.” Bellamy explains, softly running his hand down Murphy’s chest. Murphy tears up again an dBellamy chuckles softly, bringing his hand up and wiping the tears away.

“Thank You. This means so much.” Murphy says, his smile widening. He leans down and brings Bellamy into a loving kiss. He pulls back and looks around the blanket fort, he sees the mug of hot chocolate and grabs it, feeling it’s warmth on his hands. He lifts it to his lips then narrows his eyes and looks at Bellamy.

“If this is poisoned, I’ll haunt you.” He grumbles trying to be threatening, he drops the act quickly and laughs sipping the liquid, his eyes widen and BEllamy smirks as he picks up his own mug.

“Good, huh?” Bellamy asks, pulling Murphy to his chest. Murphy nods enthusiastically and takes another longdrink. Bellamy chuckles and sips on his. Murphy grabs the laptop and they watch a few show episodes until it’s only 10 minutes before Midnight. 10 Minutes before Christmas starts. Bellamy turns off the show and grabs the bottle of wine and pours him and Murphy a glass while Murphy giggles and grabs all the presents. They both had a rule that they had to have the exact same amount of presents, and not to spend much money on them so the other partner wouldn't feel inadequate. It has worked for them for quite some time. Murphy brings them all in, a total of 12 presents, 6 each. But what Murphy doesn’t know is that there’s a secret 7th gift for him, but more on that later. Bellamy hands Murphy the Wine and Murphy takes a big drink of it, Bellamy laughs at Murphy’s actions and takes a small sip from his own wine.They sit and drink wine until the clock strikes 12. Murphy hands him the smallest present from his pile and Bellamy smiles softly, holding it in his hand.

“Open it!” Murphy says gesturing his hand wildly towards the package. Bellamy chuckles softly and opens the package, And sees a small bottle and looks inside to see a little pencil inside. There’s a small text on it that says “Trabaja duro, mantente fuerte” Which, since Bellamy can speak spanish makes him smile. It means “Work Hard, Stay Strong.” It’s a motto that Bellamy uses a lot in the classroom to encourage Students. He puts it to the side and leans forward kissing Murphy’s lips softly. Murphy smiles into the kiss and giggles softly.

“So, I guess you like it? I made it myself.” Murphy confesses, looking down at his hands. Bellamy lifts his chin and looks him in the eyes.

“I Love it.” He says putting emphasis on the ‘Love’. Murphy smiles brightly and makes grabby hands, obviously telling Bellamy to give him one of his gifts. They spend about a half an hour opening presents, each one making eachother smile and get jittery with joy.

“What was your favorite?” Murphy asks looking at him, his brand new hoodie wrapped around his body. Bellamy looks at his presents and is obviously thinking, before he picks up a framed photo of a sound wave. It was the last present Murphy gave him, and Bellamy had almost cried when he looked up what song it was. “Don’t Wait” by Joey Graceffa was the first song they listened to together, Bellamy had never heard it until Murphy showed him one night when they visited Bellamy’s hme before they moved in together. The first time he listened he cried so hard Murphy had to hold him. He presents it to Murphy and Murphy smiles softly.

“I’m glad that was a good choice.” He says softly then he looks around his pile, setting eyes on a new mug Bellamy got him, he thinks it was the ‘crack’ gift of the bunch, but it’s his favorite anyways. It says “I love you for your personality, but that dick is a really nice bonus” and Murphy laughed for a long time after opening it. He holds it up and Bellamy laughs. When he calms down he looks around them and nods. He pours each of them a second glass of wine and stands up leaving the fort.

“Wait, Where are you going?” Murphy asks softly, disappointment obvious in his voice. Bellamy reassures him he’ll be right back. Bellamy gets back and climbs back into the fort and pulls Murphy forward so they're sitting in front of each other. Bellamy’s legs are crossed and Murphy is sitting on his knees. Bellamy looks up at him and gulps.

“I know we’re only supposed to have the same amount of gifts each… But I have a confession. I have another one.” He says slowly, brings his hand back to his back pocket. Murphy tilts his head in curiosity and tries to move closer. Bellamy wraps his other arm around Murphy’s body and holds him as he pulls it out. Murphy stares at it in shock, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Bellamy licks his lips and clears his throat.

“Ever since i met you in that bookstore, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you. If someone told me a year and a half ago that I’d be madly in love with a cute, sweet, slightly violent, high-school dropout, I would say they were insane.” He starts, laughing softly, tears gather at his eyes and he swallows the lump in his throat. “But We’ve been together for a year and 2 months. A year and 2 months of a relationship that’s far from perfect, but is happy. We argue, we cry, we laugh, and we have mind blowing sex.” Bellamy laughs again and so does Murphy as Tears stream down his face. “And I love you. I love you more than I have loved anything. I love you more than I love History. I love you more than anything in this goddamn world.” He continues and he sits back a bit, presenting the ring to him farther. “John Alex Murphy, Will you marry me?” He finishes.

Murphy sobs and nods, diving forward and kissing him passionately. Bellamy laughs and kisses back, wrapping his arms around the younger man. Murphy pulls back and shows his hand, Allowing Bellamy To slip the ring on. It’s nothing expensive. Nothing too entirely special, at least in how the world looks at these types of things, But Murphy adores it. He loves it, almost a smooch as he loves the man holding him.

“I love you, so much.” Murphy says leaning back in and kissing him more. Bellamy kisses back deeply, pulling him along as he lay backwards on his back. \Murphy slips next to him and cuddles into his chest, The wine, snacks, and books all forgotten. The only thing that mattered was each other.

Only Each Other.

#murphamy #the 100 #john murphy #bellamy blake #the 100 modern au

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myforeverforlife · 4 years

Text

familiar stranger (final).

“It doesn’t feel like home when you’re not with me."

Jongdae’s eyelids fluttered shut, the weight of your words touching the depths of his heart. "You’ll always have me, no matter what. Home hasn’t been the same without you.” His eyes opened, brown pools of color full of adoration as he stared back at you.

Everything was falling back into place.

Disclaimer: This series was planned out before Jongdae’s announcement, and I wanted to finish this for everyone who’s been reading and following along since part one. As always, everything in this is fictional, the only things linked to reality are the use of some character names.

Word Count: 5,734

Masterlist

Series masterlist: ( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( Final )

Moving day was more organized than you expected. You only had to bring over the pile of stuff you accumulated while staying with Minseok, and the rest already had a place at home with Jongdae. Most of your items were easily settled and in their places within a couple of hours, much to your satisfaction. The only thing left to do was to get the remainder of your clothes put away.

As you folded and hung up your clothes, it hit you that while most of your other tastes had stayed the same, your choice in clothing hadn't. In the course of six years, your wardrobe had changed almost completely.

"I feel like I'm shopping through my own closet," you said over your shoulder. Rummaging through coats and sweaters, you were impressed by certain fashions choices, and oddly confused at others. "Did I really wear this orange sweater?" You took it out by the hanger, lifting it up just as Jongdae peeked out from the bathroom.

"You did, and I always said that you looked like a pumpkin. A very cute pumpkin, I might add." Jongdae laughed, even with his mouth full of toothpaste.

You hung the fuzzy blob of a sweater back up, failing to hide the smile working its way onto your face at Jongdae's words. "I guess I know why I kept it," you said to yourself as Jongdae finished brushing his teeth. He joined you at the closet soon after, similarly dressed in his well-loved pajamas.

"I forgot you even had this," he chuckled. Jongdae reached out, fingers running down the woolen fabric of the sweater. "I never knew why you didn't donate or throw it away. You always said it was too scratchy to wear."

Eyebrows raised in disbelief, you crossed your arms over your chest. "Really? You honestly don't have any idea why?"

Jongdae was still confused, staring harder at the sweater as if he would find the answer there. "No... why?"

"I probably kept it because you liked it so much! Who doesn't want to be called a 'cute pumpkin' by their husband?"

"Huh." Jongdae's head cocked to the head slightly, studying the article of clothing one last time before turning to you. "You didn't have to do that. I know you don't usually like this style."

"I mean, technically I didn't do anything. 'Past me' did."

Jongdae smiled, closing the distance and putting his arms around your waist. "Well, 'past you' is still you." He kissed the crown of your head, his lips lingering a but longer before he rested his cheek against your hair. "Ready for bed?"

It amused Jongdae to watch you hop in on the left side of the bed, a spot you always claimed. You pulled a pillow close to you as you brought the fluffy blanket over your shoulders, sniffing curiously as you caught a whiff of a familiar scent.

"Lavender," you mused, diving down for another sniff.

"To help you sleep," Jongdae explained as he turned off the light on the nightstand. "You used to talk about how it takes forever for you to fall asleep." He stifled a laugh as he lay down, resting his head on the pillow underneath. "And if we're being honest, you were sort of jealous of my ability to fall asleep in five seconds flat."

You mirrored Jongdae, lying down and facing him as you clutched the pillow tightly to you with both arms. "I'm still jealous, now that you've brought that up," you pouted.

Jongdae cooed with sympathy, scooting closer and bringing one arm up to encircle as much of you as he could. "Hopefully the lavender helps tonight."

"I'm sure it will." You smiled up at him before hugging him back, the pillow between both of you making it hard to get your arm over his waist. To Jongdae's amusement, you shoved the pillow out of the way before snuggling closer, nose pressed into his shirt.

And sure enough, you slept better than you did in a long time.

"Y/N, can you bring me the scallops?"

"Yes, chef!" You picked up the hot pan with a towel, warning your fellow chefs as you stepped past before placing on the counter next to Key. He finished plating his risotto before reaching for the scallops, sending you a quick thanks before focusing entirely on the food before him.

"Mingyu, I need garnish soon! Kyungsoo, get ready to have your salmon up to the counter!"

Both men were quick to respond to the head chef, Mingyu readying dainty flowers to be sprinkled atop the scallop risotto while Kyungsoo wiped the edges of his salmon dishes.

You went to check on the meal ticket one last time, making sure that nothing was missing. Under Key's supervision, his dishes were immaculate and aesthetically pleasing to the eye.

Once Jaehyun came to take the dishes out, the whole process started all over again. Key led your team through a couple orders of spicy pork over cauliflower rice and, much to Kyungsoo's delight, wasabi tacos. Time seemed to fly past as you all finished up the last of the main dishes and started on desserts.

Service ended with a last order of lychee cheesecake and mini red bean pancakes topped with French vanilla ice cream, your mouth watering at the sight of them.

"Good work tonight, everybody. That was the best service we've had in a long time. Maybe even since Y/N was last here," he added, giving you a thumbs-up. "Alright, let's clean up and get the hell out of here. I'm dying for a drink."

You rolled back your shoulders, stretching out the sore muscles and moving onto your neck when Kyungsoo called out to you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, my body's just stiff. Too much sitting around at home for me really left me out of shape," you joked.

Kyungsoo's eyes softened in sympathy. "It's tough jumping back into this after so long. You'll get used to it again though."

"Sounds like you speak from experience?"

"Yeah, before I got hired here, I did my military service. I had to leave my job at Junmyeon's old restaurant, Oasis, but he offered me one here once I got out. I thought I'd ease back in like I never left, but it was weird to get back into the habit of cooking in an environment like this. Not just physically, but mentally as well." He leaned back against the counter, throwing the towel in his hand onto his shoulder and crossing his arms. "Luckily, Key is a decent head chef, when he's not sending drunk texts to the groupchat."

"I can hear you Do Kyungsoo, and those counters won't wipe themselves!" Key yelled from the walk-in fridge.

You stifled your giggles as Kyungsoo flinched, immediately reaching up for his towel and searching for the nearest surface to start cleaning.

Sure, your body wasn't used to the stress of pulling through a service like this, but you felt better than you had in a long time. It also helped that you had been welcomed back so cheerfully. Of course, everyone in the kitchen was overjoyed to have you there. Your tasks had been divvied up and shared among the remaining four chefs, the managers even stepping in to help wherever they could.

But you could feel the camaraderie between everyone, and the way that this same friendship was extended towards you. The younger ones liked to rope you into their antics, Lucas and Mark often looking to you for your opinion whenever they got into an enthusiastic discussion about, well, anything. The latest debate had been over which Smash Bros character was the best.

Your happiness at work filtered into your cheeriness at home, and vice versa. Your parents were even able to pick up on your cheery mood as you talked to them over the phone. Although they were cities away and unable to come up to Seoul as often as they liked, you made the effort to call them at least once a week.

Jongdae liked to say hi to your parents whenever he heard that you were on the phone with them. Nothing more than the usual effervescent, genuine greeting, and then he left you with a kiss and your privacy to continue your phone call. As familiar as he was with your parents, you were almost terrified about meeting his. It was slightly comforting to know that they loved you already, but meeting your partner's parents was always a nerve-wracking event. Jongdae never pushed you to meet them, much less talk to then until you were ready.

But deep down, you knew that this was something you would have to do eventually.

You met them for the first time (again) at his parents on a sunny weekend in March, during a family get-together at their house. Jongdae's older brother was there too with his wife, their little daughter back home spending some time with her maternal grandmother.

It was easy to see where Jongdae's assorted charms came from as you observed his parents. His father was reliable and always ready to lend a hand, even when you didn't say anything. His mother was bubbly and optimistic, constantly refreshing others with a kind word and a warm smile.

And Jongdae, sweet as ever, was by your side throughout it all. A hand on your waist as you talked to his mom, a hearty laugh when you innocently pointed out that his brother had a piece of spinach stuck in his teeth.

His childhood home was gone, but his parents still kept a room reserved for him and his brother in their new apartment. Boxes of artifacts from his youth were stacked against the wall, full of yearbooks, letters and stuffed plushies spilling out when you opened them up.

"You have a teddy bear collection?" you asked, picking up one with a plush skateboard attached to its feet. "This might be the cutest thing I've ever seen."

"Stop," Jongdae whined, falling to the floor and covering his face with his hands as you laughed. "I feel bad about throwing them out."

"I'm serious, Dae. This is adorable." You sat the bear up against the pillows on his bed, lining up bear after bear until you had an entire row there. Some were in better condition than others, but all had been well-loved.

Jongdae showed you old photos of the band he was in during high-school, an adolescent version of him sporting different hairstyles that his friend did for him. "I let him practice on me, but I drew the line at mohawks. My mom would've killed me, and Jongdeok would've teased me about it forever. Not that he doesn't tease me enough already," he added with a good-natured roll of his eyes.

"How about now?" you asked, wiggling your eyebrows. "I think you'd look good in one."

Jongdae choked on his laughter, tears welling in the corners of his eyes as you frantically got him up to a sitting position. "I'm fine," he assured you, coughing in between chuckles. "You just surprised me."

"You mean you don't want a hairstyle that makes you look like a rooster?" you quipped, joining in as Jongdae erupted into giggles once more.

"Okay, that's it, I'm never going with you to the hair salon." His chest continued to rumble with laughter as he leaned against you, his cheek pressed against your head. "I'm glad you're having a good time here."

"Your family's so sweet, how can I not?"

Jongdae smiled to himself, head ducking down to kiss you. "I'm happy that you're happy, darling."

Jongdae's family members were so similar to himself, how could you not love them? They welcomed you into the family a second time, your personality suiting their easygoing ways.

And something you really appreciated — not once did any of them comment on your ring-less finger.

It had been a journey wracked with guilt and confusion, but you had reached the point where looking at your wedding ring didn't send you into a whirlpool of nervousness.

A few weeks and sessions unpacking your guilt with Dr. Suh later, you even took to wearing your wedding ring again — although not where you were traditionally expected to. The elegant piece of jewelry hung from a thin silver chain around your neck, an old Christmas present from your father.

Your ring was the bridge between your present and past — but more importantly, your future. Wearing your ring grounded you, reminded you about how lucky you were to be here now, even if you couldn't remember the past six years. It was comforting to feel the slight pull on your necklace when you leaned forward, the ring swinging forward and catching the light.

What warmed your heart even more was Jongdae's reaction to seeing it again.

You had been antsy all day, the ring hidden under your shirt. For all Jongdae knew, you were just wearing a necklace you had rediscovered. But when you leaned down to pick up a pair of shoes, the ring slipped out from its hiding place. Jongdae, who tended to be completely oblivious to his surroundings, took a bit to realize what he was seeing. Once he did, however, his mouth fell open, eyes trained solely on the ring at your neck. No matter how many times you replayed it in your mind, you couldn't figure out who had moved first. All you knew was that both of you were in each other's arms, Jongdae's lips on yours as he kissed you like his life depended on it.

When he managed to finally pull away, he looked you in the eye, asking why you chose to wear it.

"It just feels right," you murmured, fingers tracing over his collarbones. You couldn't meet his gaze, feeling the the intensity of his eyes on yours. You needed to be clear-headed if you wanted to get your thoughts out correctly. "I used to be scared of it. I knew that I loved you, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for a big commitment like this. It's my first time being married," you finished with a soft laugh.

Jongdae lifted your chin up gently, waiting until you were looking at him. "You didn't do this just for me, right?" He swallowed back the nervousness creeping up his throat.

You shook your head. "Not just for you or me, but for us, darling."

Jongdae froze for a second before his hands came up to your cheeks, caressing them softly. “Say it again, please.” His voice was shaky, despite the steadiness of his hands. "I've missed hearing that."

"Darling Jongdae," you whispered back, your own hands trembling as they reached up to cover Jongdae's where they rested on your face. "I love you. I don't think I ever really stopped."

Jongdae let out an unexpected sob, closing his eyes and ducking his head. His hands dropped from your face, taking yours down with him.

"Dae, don't cry," you pleaded, reaching out to be the one to cradle his face now. "Dae," you said tenderly, brushing his bangs back as he tried to hide his tears.

He turned his head, wiping his face on his sleeve before turning back to you. His eyes were red-rimmed, tears clumping his eyelashes together. "I'm happy," he choked out, taking in a shuddering, raspy breath. "You make me happy, Y/N, no matter what you do. But this... nothing even compares to this.”

"But I'm not even wearing the ring the right way," you murmured, surprised by his strong reaction.

Jongdae shook his head, brows drawn low over his face, a serious glint to his eye. "It doesn't matter where you wear it. You could wear it on your pinky toe, for all that I care. But I'm... I'm honored that you would choose to wear it again. To choose me again."

"It's only ever been you, Jongdae. I'd fall for you again, a million times over if it meant I got to be with you." You kissed him, feeling the subtle tickle of his eyelashes against your skin when he closed his eyes.

"I love you," he breathed, unwilling to move even an inch away when he was already drunk off of you.

"I love you too, Dae."

And in your soul, you felt that truer words had never been spoken.

Winter ended and with it came sunnier spring days, each with their fair share of rainy ones. You and Jongdae had spent these early months of the year cuddled up in late winter's warmth, discovering new things about each other as the first seeds began to sprout. It was normal now for Jongdae to pick you up from work, for both of you to come home and talk about your days over dinner and then spend the rest of the night lazing around.

Your old worries tended to creep up on you from time to time, but your circle of supporters were always ready to listen and comfort. You confided in Dr. Suh, sharing your deepest, darkest fears about not being able to live up to the person you had been before the accident. It took a lot of talking out your thoughts and thinking through the realities of them, sorting through what was fact and fiction, and the importance of living for now.

You had gotten so used to having Dr. Suh as another shoulder to lean on that it knocked your world off balance when you got down to your last sessions.

"I don't think there's anything left for me to help you with," she explained. "You've done an amazing job learning to talk through your problems, and not just to me. I've seen how much you and Jongdae have improved, and I think it's time that I take a step back."

"This is so weird, it feels like it was only a couple of weeks ago that I came in here for the first time," you mused.

"Time really has flown by, hasn’t it?” Dr. Suh took off her glasses, resting them on top of her leg. "You've made so much progress, and I have faith in your abilities to continue your good work. I'll miss my sessions with you and Jongdae, but I sincerely believe that neither of you need me anymore. I'm proud of you both."

A sudden wave of emotion came over you, gratitude towards Dr. Suh for all of her help over the past months, to uncertainty about the days ahead without these confidential talks in her office. "Are you sure?" you asked meekly. "What do I do if I need help again?"

"Then I'll always be here. But I think you and Jongdae have done more for each other than I have." Her lips curled upwards, bringing an uncommon youthfulness to her usually calm demeanor.

"I'm sure together, the two of you will be just fine."

Six months later...

Your played with the ring hanging from your neck, one foot tapping anxiously against the floor. Tonight was the night. It wasn't your first holiday with Jongdae, and some people wouldn't consider a birthday a "real" holiday anyways, but in your eyes, it was absolutely imperative that everything go smoothly tonight.

"Y/N, relax, he'll be here soon," Key said, wiping off a few beads of sweat from his forehead. "If you stay in the kitchen any longer, you'll end up sweating in that outfit."

He had a point. "Are you sure you don't need any help?" you asked, leaning across the counter. Key had done his best to keep you out of the kitchen, sparing one glance at your dress and stating that he wouldn't be the one to get oil or food residue on your outfit. After you begged and pleaded, he begrudgingly agreed to let you sit and watch from across the counter.

"I'm sure," Key emphasized, waving you away with one hand. "Now hurry and get out there before your dress starts to smell like beef or something."

With a snort, you hopped off the stool, pushing open the kitchen door and leaving the chefs to their own devices.

The restaurant was nearly empty, the last few customers finishing up their meals and settling their checks. You had offered to work today, but Irene wouldn't hear of it, especially after hearing of your plans to celebrate Jongdae's birthday. She even insisted that you take your time off to go and treat yourself to some time at a salon. That didn't stop you from showing up an hour before you told Jongdae to meet you, running through your plans and finalizing them.

For your sake, the restaurant was closing early tonight so that you and Jongdae would have the whole place to yourselves. Well, yourselves, and the rest of the staff who you knew would be eavesdropping at every moment.

"Y/N!" Junmyeon called out, coming over with two copies of your menu. "We finally got the printer to work, what do you think?"

In his hands were two menus, the thick leaves of paper already laminated and placed inside the leather bindings. You read down the list, nodding contentedly at what you saw there. "Perfect! Thanks so much, Myeon. I know how much trouble the printer was giving you."

"If it's for you and Jongdae, it's not a problem. You can pay me in leftover food, though." He laughed as he walked away, the apples of his cheeks tinged pink with mirth.

One table by the window had been especially reserved for both of you, the table settings already freshly cleaned after the previous diners. You leaned over, rearranging the petite flowers in the vase that sat there, the golden sunshine of their petals instantly lifting your mood. The simple arrangement held a mix of dandelions and black-eyed Susans, with some sprigs of baby's breath to add some subtle contrast. As much as you and Jongdae both loved lavender, you noticed how he was always drawn to any sort of buttery, yellow flower. His face had brightened up when you brought some home the other day, his nose disappearing into the depth of petals as he smelled the fragrant scent. He made you laugh when he picked one out, sticking it behind his ear as you both did the rest of your Saturday chores.

"Y/N, it's almost time!" Irene came up from behind, smoothing down your hair and giving you a final look-over. She nodded to herself when she was satisfied, gently pushing you into a chair.

"Irene, I'm probably gonna stand up again once he comes in," you said, even as your boss meticulously straightened out every little bit and piece on the table.

"That might be true, but when Jongdae walks up to the entrance, the first thing he's going to see is you sitting here by the window. With the light coming at you from this angle and your vase of flowers here, you look like you belong in a painting. Jongdae will be at a complete loss for words."

Your lips quirked up at the unexpected compliments, thanking your friend for her help tonight.

"I'm happy to do this for you, Y/N. We all are." She glanced up, spotting something through the window. "I'd say good luck, but I know that you won't need it."

You followed her line of sight, sitting up in your seat and craning your neck until you saw Jongdae, frozen on the path leading up to the restaurant. He broke out of his stupor when he met your eye, raising a hand to wave shyly. You didn't even notice Irene as she slipped away discreetly, your heart melting at the sight of Jongdae. Your boss may have tried to frame you like a portrait in a museum, picturesque and pleasing to the eye, but no work of art could surpass Jongdae's beauty in your eyes.

Jongdae greeted Johnny at the entrance, following through the charade as the taller man led him to your table — the only occupied table in the entire restaurant. He took his seat, fingers tapping nervously against his legs as he gave you a crooked smile. "Hi, darling. I didn't think we'd be the only ones here tonight."

"Being friends with the owner has its perks," you shrugged nonchalantly. "Happy birthday, Dae." You had already wished him a happy birthday multiple times already, but you were overflowing with festive cheer. It was your first time celebrating his birthday, and you intended to make this a night he wouldn't forget.

"Thank you," Jongdae replied sweetly, his hand reaching over the table to meet yours.

Johnny came back with drinks and your specially crafted menus. There was only one option listed for each course, but you had made sure to pick dishes that Jongdae absolutely loved. His face lit up as he read down the list, unconsciously swallowing as if he could already taste the food. "Babe, this all sounds amazing. How am I gonna eat all of this?"

"I'm sure we'll find a way. And if we don't, at least we've got a full staff to help us out." You nodded towards the kitchen, Jongdae following suit only to see Key staring through the window. The head chef was unfazed at being caught, waving quickly before he disappeared from view and sending you and Jongdae into a fit of giggles.

The first course was the appetizer: a sampler of short ribs cooked in several ways. The bites were small, but enough to hold you over until the next course. Jongdae, ever the carnivore, dug in with gusto. "This isn't a dish on the menu, is it? Did you come up with this?" he asked in awe.

"I planned it with Key and Soo. They both helped me with the flavor combinations."

Jongdae sighed happily. "You're a genius. I could kiss you right now, you know?"

"I'd be fine with that," you smiled, leaning closer.

The door to the kitchen swung open, Ten coming to bring you the main course. You and Jongdae both jumped back in your seats, laughing quietly at your shared embarrassment.

If Jongdae was ecstatic at the sight of the appetizer, he was completely overjoyed when he saw what the main course was. "It's your kimchi stew," he gaped in wonder.

You had practiced the beloved recipe, the one from your cookbook that reduced you to tears months ago. It had taken a couple of test trials in the kitchen before you felt that it was absolutely perfect, nothing less than what you wanted to present to Jongdae. Tonight, Kyungsoo was in charge of it, but you trusted him with your recipe wholeheartedly.

Jongdae closed his eyes as soon as he took the first bite, the familiar spiciness and warmth rushing over him. "God, this is so good," he gushed, opening his eyes to meet your proud smile.

"I'm glad you like it. Kyungsoo did a great job with it tonight."

Jongdae nodded, scooping up some rice from the stone bowl beside his stew. "I'll have to give my compliments to the chef," he joked with a twinkle in his eye.

When both of you were done and felt like you couldn't eat any more, Ten came back to clear your dishes. You knew what was going to happen next, and the dormant butterflies in your stomach began to fly into a frenzy. Across from you, Jongdae sat oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"I don't know if I can eat any more. But then again, Mom always said I had a separate stomach for dessert." He laughed, hands resting over his full belly as you joined in.

"Well, I guess we'll see if that's true."

Jongdae raised an eyebrow, about to ask something when some of the lights went out, only your little corner by the window still illuminated by light. A chorus of singing could be heard from the kitchen, only to come flooding out once the doors opened.

Junmyeon carried the cake out, concentrating hard on singing and walking at the same time. Irene was beside him, hands outstretched as if she expected the cake to fall at any moment. Kyungsoo was right behind, the cake knife wrapped in a cloth napkin and held carefully in his hands as his cheeks glowed with excitement. The rest of the staff followed along, singing turning to shouts and cheers as the fun of it all started to sink in. Even Minseok and Baekhyun were there, Minseok recording on his phone and Baekhyun with a party hat on his head.

"Happy birthday!" Baekhyun yelled once the singing was over and the applause died down. He took off his hat to put it on Jongdae's head instead. Of course, always ready to go along with the fun, Jongdae let his best friend put the silly hat on him. It was much too small, and you were sure that he would have a mark on his chin from the rubber band, but none of it bothered him at all.

Junmyeon managed to get the cake onto the table without any incidents, much to everyone's relief. He hid behind Mingyu to wipe away the sweat at his temples while Jongdae grinned appreciatively at the cake.

"Matcha cheesecake?" he asked, eyes flashing up to meet yours.

"The one and only. I hope you like it, Dae."

"I love it, all of this. Thank you so much, darling." He brought your hand up, pressing a feather-light kiss to the knuckles there.

"Don't forget to make a wish," Minseok spoke up, still recording every moment.

Jongdae took in a deep breath as he closed his eyes. It was almost like watching him pray, the way he whispered to himself so softly, no one else could hear. He opened his eyes and blew out the candles, the room erupting into cheers and applause once more.

Soon, the cake was cut and pieces passed around. Jongdae had tried to cut it at first, but the slices were in danger of coming out horribly uneven, so Kyungsoo stepped in. Everyone was scattered throughout the restaurant, lounging around and talking over their cake. They were mindful of your privacy, varied conversations never interrupting the intimacy shared at your table.

"Y/N, thank you so much for tonight," Jongdae murmured, now without his birthday hat. "This is the best birthday I've ever had."

"Really?" you asked, fork stopping halfway to your mouth as your froze, taken off-guard.

"Really," he repeated. "I can tell how much work you put into this, you and everyone here. I still can't believe how lucky I am to have someone do this for me."

"I do it because I love you, Dae." You set your fork down, the metal clattering against the ceramic plate. "I actually have one last surprise," you stammered out. The butterflies in your stomach had now reached peak frenzy, almost rendering you frozen.

Jongdae watched, half intrigued and the other half worried by the trembling of your fingers. You reached up to undo the clasp of your necklace, slipping your ring off of the chain and cradling it in your other hand.

"At the beginning of this year, I wasn't sure what would happen to me. I was terrified and lost, and it took everything I had to even try to piece my life back together." You paused, licking your dry lips and readying yourself for the next words. Jongdae's eyes were wide, emotion swirling in that expressive face of his. The love and awe that you saw there spurred you on, words coming more readily.

"I was scared of falling back in love with you because I knew even less about you than I knew about myself. And the more I found out about you, the deeper I fell. It was the biggest leap of faith I'd ever taken, trusting myself to you and hoping that we would both come out unscathed. And now, every single day, I'm so thankful to have you in my life. I love you more than I can say in words, more than I will ever remember. Kim Jongdae, will you marry me a second time?"

Jongdae jumped up, surprising you and everyone else in the room who had been listening in. He came around the table, stooping down to cup your cheeks gently before he kissed you.

Someone started hooting and cheering, but it was merely background noise to you. How could you focus on anything else when Jongdae was kissing you like you were the most precious thing he had ever set eyes on?

"Is that a yes?" you mumbled against his lips, raising an eyebrow when Jongdae chuckled softly.

"Yes, with all of my heart." Jongdae crouched down beside you, on his knees as he took the ring from your hand. Both of you watched as he slid it carefully onto the finger that had been bare for so long. Once it was nestled safely against your skin, you pulled him back in for another kiss, giggling when your friends began to crowd the two of you again.

"Yo, but can people really get married twice?" Mark asked to no one in particular, looking from face to face for his answer.

"I was thinking more of us renewing our vows, but asking him to marry me just seemed more romantic," you explained with a laugh.

"And it worked," Jongdae added, his hand stroking the side of your face. "I'd marry you a thousand times over, if you asked me to."

"Don't say that, she'll really make you do it," Minseok interrupted.

You stuck your tongue out at your older brother, ignoring the chuckles of amusement at your childish reaction. Jongdae reached down to pick up your left hand, his thumb running reverently over the ring there.

"Thank you," he whispered to you, his forehead resting against yours. "Thank you for choosing me again, even after everything."

"Darling, I always will. Even after every hardship, every unexpected thing that comes out way, we’ve managed to still make it out together. With you, I'm never lost."

Jongdae's gaze softened, his brown eyes reflecting your own hopes and dreams back for you to see. You felt his thumb run over your ring again, the touch comforting and immediately putting you at ease. "You'll never be lost again," he said sincerely.

"I promise."

Series masterlist: ( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( Final )

A/N: and that’s a wrap! thank you to everyone who’s been reading not only this series, but any of my jongdae fics since I started posting them here! 💕💕💕

for the flowers in the vase: baby's breath means long lasting love, dandelions can mean bravery, personal growth, healing, perseverance (there were lots of mixed meanings) and black-eyed susans mean encouragement.

if you guys remember the small paragraph I shared of this a long, long time ago before I really started working on the series, this will seem pretty different from that. I went through a lot of changes after hearing about jongdae's good news because I didn't want to write a jongdae scenario so close to reality. i’m still happy to end this series on a good note, and I can genuinely say that i’ve enjoyed every moment not only of writing this, but for writing everything i’ve done for jongdae. I won’t be writing any reader x jongdae fics anymore, but there’s always a good chance he’ll show up as a side character in future works!

tag list: @khelmatic @chogi-wae @wongxiexie

#exo #chen #chen scenario #jongdae scenario #chen fanfic #jongdae fanfic #exo scenario #exo fanfic #writings

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chiefnooniensingh · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Hesitate (for you) Chapter 8

Chapter 8: You should give me a chance (this can’t be the end)

In this chapter: In the past, Alex and Michael grow closer, but danger lurks. In the present, Alex tries to talk to Michael after their devastating conversation. Things are slowly starting to come together.

A/n: So. This is gonna hurt. This chapter holds the absolute fucking worst scene ever written and it’s mostly not even mine. I’m sorry in advance.

As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don’t know if I would’ve finished it without you guys!

So last week I kinda lied.I said I got my chapter titles from a playlist but I immediately changed up that pattern. I hope you guys still get it!

Last week was, of course “Can’t Love Me” by Novi and our very own Tyler Blackburn. @hmd23 guessed it again! They’re racking up quite a score!

Can anyone guess this week’s?

also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

December, 1924

“Where are you taking me, Michael?”

“Just keep your eyes closed. Trust me, I won’t walk you off a cliff.”

“Thanks, now I’m less worried,” Alex said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Alex.”

“Fine! I trust you.”

Michael pressed a quick kiss to Alex’ shoulder as he guided him forward. And indeed he guided well; every step they took was deliberate and Alex didn’t stumble once.

They’d been together for about six months now. The beginning had been a bit awkward. Neither of them quite understood what it was between them, but they’d soon stopped questioning it. For Alex’s part, he really, really liked Michael. He felt all the things men were supposed to feel for women, except he felt them for Michael. He hadn’t dared put any label on it, yet. They’d both been burned too many times, so they’d been taking it slow. They’d gone out a couple of times, under the guise of doing homework or coming from work at the foster’s ranch.

The sneaking around got exhausting sometimes, but this thing blooming between them was what dragged Alex through the long weeks of summer holidays. It was like Michael’s kisses gave Alex some resilience to his father’s nagging comments.

Speaking of kisses…Alex, still with his eyes closed, stopped moving, pulling Michael back towards him and clumsily pressing their lips together. Michael laughed as their lips fully missed each other at first but leaned into the kiss either way. “Alright, cowboy, calm down. Plenty of time for that later,” Michael said, his voice dropping down a notch and sending shivers down Alex’s spine.

“Oh,” he said stupidly. Michael started pulling him forwards again. Blindly, Alex groped for Michael’s head, stole the cowboy hat from his head and put

“Okay, love,” Michael said, the easy term of endearment slipping out as easily as his name would’ve, and Alex’s stomach took a short dive, “Open your eyes.”

Alex complied. His eyes adjusted for a second, and then he didn’t understand what he was seeing for another. “Is this…my mom’s shed?”

“It is.”

Alex’s jaw dropped. His mother’s art shed, usually locked up tight because his father hated the reminder that someone left him and got away with it, was flush with the light of about a dozen candles. The art supplies were all neatly stacked in a corner, and Michael had used the newly acquired floor space for a lot of blankets, pillows and a small picnic basket. “Michael, I…oh my God.”

“I know your dad is away for the weekend, and today is exactly six months to the day we first kissed so I wanted to…celebrate,” Michael said, his cheeks tinging red and his fingers fidgeting with Alex’s fingers nervously. Alex could only stare. “Is it…too much?”

Alex snapped out of it immediately, Michael’s insecurity pulling him back to reality. “God, no! Michael, it’s perfect!” He grabbed Michael by the neck and pulled him in for a kiss that turned passionate quite quickly. “Thank you,” Alex whispered.

“You’re welcome.” Michael began walking Alex backwards slowly, shedding his own coat first and then Alex’s, discarding them on the floor. They were forgotten immediately. Their lips met in a soft kiss. Alex wound his fingers in Michael’s hair, his favourite place to keep his hands while they were making out, and pushed his entire body against Michael’s, not content with even a tiny bit of space between them. With only slight pressure, Michael managed to bring Alex down on top of the blankets and pillows, straddling his hips as they continued to kiss frantically. Alex felt Michael’s growing erection against his thigh and broke the kiss to look at him.

“You wanna do this?” he asked softly.

Michael’s eyes darkened. “Only if you want to.”

Alex groaned as Michael’s hips twitched slightly, providing a friction that was so heavenly it should be illegal. “God, yes, Michael.”

“Really?”

Alex’s eyes opened in a flash, frowning at the genuine surprise on Michael’s face. “If you don’t come down here and kiss me, Guerin, I will start without you.” To prove his point, he drifted a hand down to his waistband, fingering the button of his slacks. Michael’s hands stopped him.

“Eager, are we?” Michael asked, leaning down and pressing light kisses to Alex’s face.

Alex bucked up his hips and they both groaned. “You have no idea.”

Michael caught Alex’s lips hungrily and they got lost in each other, shedding pieces of clothes as they went. Soon they were naked, and Alex became very aware of this. His breathing stuttered as Michael sat upright and Alex got a good look at the entirety of him for the first time.

And oh God, was he a specimen.

Alex’s breathing hitched as he ran his eyes from Michael’s face down to the hard planes of his chest and the slight rounding of his stomach. Michael had some scares, it was true, but it did nothing to take away from his beauty. Michael watched him drink him in with a slight smirk that Alex recognized as a mask to hide his fears. Alex reached out and ran his hands slowly, appreciatively over Michael’s chest, moving to his arms, and finally lacing their fingers together. Their eyes found each other again and they smiled, both slightly nervous. “Hi,” Alex breathed.

“Hi,” Michael returned, leaning down and pressing another kiss to his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Alex muttered.

Michael flushed. “Shut up.”

“‘And you’re beautiful, too, Alex’,” Alex said, poking Michael’s side, causing the latter to laugh, breaking some of the tension.

“Confident, are we?”

“Any reason I shouldn’t be?” Alex was teasing, they both knew it. They both had self-esteem issues to keep Freud busy for several years, but neither were in any mood to address them at this point. They were happy, for once, and too wrapped up into each other. It didn’t matter, for once. Nothing else mattered.

“Kiss me, Michael,” Alex said, after they’d stared at each other for a while, breaths falling in sync and their bodies humming from the proximity. Michael didn’t hesitate. He captured Alex’s lips in a kiss so ferocious it took Alex’s breath away completely. Michael rolled his hips, and Alex let out a moan quite unlike any sound he’d ever made before. He had no time to feel embarrassed, for it only spurred Michael on. Within a few minutes, both of them were panting and groaning, straining against the urge to completely lose it. Breaking the kiss, Michael raised his head just enough to be able to look into Alex’s eyes, and then his hand slowly ran from Alex’s chest down to where their bodies met. Without breaking eye contact, Michael wrapped his hand around Alex’s cock. Alex’s eyes widened and he gasped, one hand flying to grab hold of Michael’s neck. Michael kept his eyes on Alex’s face as he began to move his hand, slowly stroking, coaxing little noises from Alex’s throat, enjoying the way Alex responded to even his softest touch.

Alex, meanwhile, had lost all coherent thought. His entire focus had narrowed to Michael, the way his hand moved, the way those beautiful eyes stared at him, completely open and vulnerable, a positively hungry glint in them.

Somewhere in his abdomen, a pressure started to build. “M-Michael,” Alex whined, his hands looking frantically for purchase, which they eventually found in Michael’s hair. He pulled Michael down and captured his lips in a kiss. Michael’s movements never ceased, and within a minute, Alex was gasping, his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent scream.

“That’s it, Alex,” Michael whispered softly, looking at Alex with nothing but pure adoration on his face. “Let go. I got you.”

Alex came unlike he’d ever experience before. His entire body flooded with heat, from the crown of his head to the tips of toes, and his muscles seized up for a moment and then slackened entirely. He was gasping for breath the next moment, his heart thundering in his chest. “Oh…oh my God,” he finally managed to croak out. His eyes snapped to Michael, who was resting his chin on Alex’s chest, staring at Alex’s face as if he was trying to memorize every small detail. “Oh my God, Michael.”

“That good, huh?”

“That was amazing,” Alex panted, lifting a heavy arm to brush Michael’s curls from his forehead. Then he pulled him up, capturing Michael’s lips in a searing kiss. “God, Michael…”

Michael hummed against Alex’s lips.

It took another few minutes for Alex to regain a bit of his strength, but when he finally did, he immediately noticed Michael’s…predicament. Sitting up suddenly and startling Michael, he grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him on his back. “My turn,” Alex said with a smirk, and Michael’s eyes fluttered closed as Alex began to press heated, open-mouthed kisses to Michael’s chest, working his way down to where Michael needed him most.

“A-Alex,” Michael groaned, sounding like it cost him something to speak. “You d-don’t ha-have to!” he blurted out.

Alex looked up, locking eyes with Michael to make sure the latter understood him clearly. “What if I want to?”

Michael groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “Then, for the love of God, keep going.”

Alex smirked and set to work.

It was awkward in the beginning. Alex almost gave up entirely, after he nearly bit Michael’s most sensitive area twice, but Michael was patient and caring and coached Alex between gasps and moans until Alex finally found a rhythm that worked for both of them. And suddenly it was Michael gasping and choking out Alex’s name, and a heady feeling washed over Alex; a feeling of power and control. He was doing this to Michael. He was making Michael feel good and stammer out attempts at his name and it felt amazing to have that kind of control over someone, to have that kind of trust that Michael only rarely gave out to other people.

“Oh God, Alex, don’t stop!” Michael cried out, as if Alex was planning to. “Alex, I – I’m gonna – ”

Alex released Michael with a pop and replaced his mouth with his hand, working him over like Michael had done to him, and within thirty seconds, Michael came with a yell and a groan. Alex worked through the orgasm, slowing his movements until Michael’s breathing slowed down a little. Alex crawled up, feeling spent and sated as if he himself had just experience another orgasm. He dropped next to Michael on the blankets, using Michael’s chest as a pillow.

“Wow,” Michael said breathlessly.

“My sentiments exactly,” Alex whispered, running a single finger over Michael’s chest. Slowly, his heartrate was returning to normal, the adrenaline leaving his system, and suddenly he was shivering. Michael immediately reached out and pulled one of the blankets over them. They cuddled together, the warmth of the candles and their shared body heat washing over them, making them drowsy and sleepy. “What about the picnic?” Alex suddenly remembered.

“Later,” Michael murmured. They both fell asleep, blissfully unaware that later would be too late.

They were just getting dressed, intend on having that picnic after their much-needed nap. They were giggly, still a bit in a daze, happy even.

They should’ve known it wouldn’t last. Nothing good ever did.

Suddenly, the door to the shed flew open. Alex’s heart stopped. His father was standing in the doorway, an absolutely murderous look on his face. On instinct, Alex took half a step back, then moved in front of Michael.

As if he could protect him.

He was trembling like a leaf, already feeling the anger building in his father.

Jesse Manes was looking at the two of them, then entered the shed and closed the door. Fear coursed through his veins, but he remained still. Michael was behind him, and the last thing Alex wanted was for Michael to get hurt. “Dad,” he began, his heart in his throat as he saw his father making his way to the toolbox. Next thing, Jesse Manes held a hammer in his hand. No, oh god no. Alex panicked. His breathing became shallow and he brought his fingers to his lips. Behind him, Michael was frozen.

“How dare you?” Jesse Manes said quietly, menacingly. “Under my roof.”

“Dad, this has nothing to do with you!” Alex half-yelled, tears prickling in his eyes. In a flash, his father had him pinned by the throat against the wall. Michael let out a surprised yell, but Alex barely registered it. His breathing was being cut off and he was still very aware of the hammer in his father’s other hand.

“Everything you do!” his father yelled, “Everything! And I will not be humiliated…!”

From the corner of his eyes, Alex saw a flash of movement. “Don’t touch him!” Michael screamed, lunging forward.

Everything went very fast and yet terribly slowly. With a single, military trained movement, Jesse Manes grabbed Michael’s untrained fist as it came at his face. Alex fell to the ground gasping. He looked up. His father threw Michael towards the drawing table, grabbed the hand that had tried to hit him and brought the hammer down.

“NO!!” Alex screamed, his stomach coiling as he heard Michael scream in utter agony.

And then it was over.

His father was gone, Michael was clutching his ruined hand, and the dream they’d been living in for six months had shattered.

They’d never recover from that single, fateful night.

Present day, 22nd of October, 1935

Memories were a bitch, Alex decided.

After his terrible fight with Michael, he’d retreated to his cabin and had allowed himself exactly 10 minutes to give in, break down, feel every terrible, painful feeling he’d been suppressing for three days, and then forced himself to get back to work.

It’d been closer to 30 minutes, because every time he would force himself to calm down, the memories would come flooding back. The sound of a hammer finding its target; agonized screaming; the cruel twists of his father’s lips. It took him 30 minutes to finally get a grip on it.

Alex felt like he’d been run over by a truck.

And he had to go and find even more pain. Because Michael still didn’t have a solid alibi.

He found Michael in the dining carriage, sitting on a table, studying his left hand with a look of pain and grief on his face. Alex watched him flex the stiff fingers, winced when Michael did, and felt his heart ache. Michael got his hand maimed because of him. To protect him. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said.

Michael’s head snapped up. “Jesus Christ. What does a guy need to do to get you to take the fucking hint, Manes?”

Every syllable was dripping with anger and disgust and Alex felt each of them stab his heart. “I’m sorry for everything. All of it. Your hand. My father. This mess. Dragging you into my life. I’m so sorry. You deserved better.” His eyes were brimming with tears again and he closed them angrily to push them back.

When he looked back up, Michael’s face had softened a fraction. “What makes you think you dragged me into anything?”

Alex shook his head. “I knew what my father was. Knew he would never approve. Knew what he was capable of. And I put you in his orbit anyway. It’s my fault. All my fault.”

“Hey,” Michael said, jumping down form the table and moving towards Alex. His eyes were still cold and angry, but his voice was now carrying some warmth and softness in it. “You didn’t drag me into anything. I walked into it, eyes wide open. I knew what your father was from the day we met, remember? I didn’t care. You were worth it.”

Alex doesn’t fail to notice the obvious use of past tense, but it still makes him feel a little better. “Does it still hurt?”

Michael looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers again. “It seizes up sometimes.” He sighed. “I haven’t been able to play guitar since that night.”

Alex closed his eyes, a single tear escaping. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Michael sighed, “Yeah, I know.” The two of them stood in silence for a while, before Michael took a deep breath and sat back down on the table. “What did you come here for, Alex?”

“You know what,” Alex said, his voice flat. It was no use pretending. They both knew. The evidence was stacked against Michael. This was the second time Alex was coming to Michael, practically begging for a good explanation. They both knew there would not be a third time.

Michael hung his head. “Yeah, I know. You want to hear me say it. But I don’t know how to say it that’ll make you believe me.”

“Try,” Alex said, his tone pleading.

“I didn’t do,” he waved his hand at the general vicinity of his chest, indicating the way Noah Bracken had been murdered, “that. Alex, you have to believe me.”

“I want to so bad,” Alex whispered, shutting his eyes. Somehow, hearing Michael say it, didn’t help at all. “I want to believe that you didn’t do this so bad. Because I know you – or knew you, and you are – were – not a murderer. Yet something in my brain is telling me that something’s off and I can’t…I don’t know what it is!”

“I was placing a call to Jack at 3am,” Michael blurted out.

“Who the fuck is Jack?” Alex asked, too tired for niceties, too raw from sheer pain, too ready to hear the words ‘partner’ fall from Michael’s lips.

Michael snorted, as if he knew what Alex was thinking. “Jack’s the conductor of the that’s set to relieve me in Paris. He’ll be the lucky bastard making this entire trip the other way around. We’re supposed to check in at every stop, to let the other conductors know we’re on schedule.” He glanced at the windows, where the rocky walls of the Simplon pass were still shooting past. “I guess they know we’ll be a bit late.”

Despite himself, Alex let out a laugh. But it was hollow, and it faded away just as quickly. “I’m sure you’re telling the truth, Guerin, but…”

“But it’s not good enough. Because we can’t prove it until you can speak to Jack.” Michael nodded, as if he understood, but his mouth was set in a bitter line. “I get it, Alex. I’ll just…stay in my cabin until we get to Paris. Or something.”

Without saying anything further, he left the dining carriage. Alex heard the door to Michael’s cabin slam closed. “God fucking damnit,” Alex cursed, slamming his fist against the wall, which accomplished very little, except that he now had aching knuckles to boot. He stood, frozen, for a while, trying to set his mind right. It did not have any effect.

Suddenly, Alex shivered. A cold gust of wind blew past him, rustling his clothes and sending shivers down his spine. He turned, saw a window open and went to close it, still shivering. As he was about to pull it shut, he froze.

His mind finally seemed to unlock, the thing that had been nagging at him for two days finally burst to the surface. The window was closed when they went to bed. The train stopped in Vinkovci around 3. Body temperature suggest that’s when the murder happened as well. However, the window was open when we entered the cabin in the morning.

The window had been open.

Cold temperatures affects body temperature, Alex knew this from his many collaborations with coroners over the years. If a body was found in the snow, the amount of time it spent there was crucial to estimating the time of death. One hour of exposure could drop the body temperature as much as one degree, which can really screw up the time frame of a murder.

The time of death is off.

Alex suddenly remembered the scream he heard in the night. The person he saw moving into Miss Beth’s cabin.

Half past 5.

This not only changed the timeframe itself, but also the possible murderers. They’d been moving at half past 5. Unless the murderer had waited around for two hours before murdering Mr Bracken and then jumped off a moving train – they didn’t stop until well after 8 that morning – that meant the murderer was definitely still on this train.

If the murder actually happened at half past five…if the murderer opened a window to trick Kyle into miscalculating the time of death…

But Alex stopped, his thoughts screeching to a halt.

No one else could’ve possibly known what cold weather does to a dead body. Only Kyle Vale had the training and the knowledge.

Kyle Vale killed Noah Bracken.

Just as Alex reached that new, terrible (but admittedly, also liberating) conclusion, he heard Miss Beth shout in the hall outside. Apparently, her wound has reopened. Alex nearly dismissed it, but then she said the two words that made everything click into place:

“…can you come help me, dr Valenti?”

#malex #malex ff #rnm ff #malex fanfic #roswell new mexico #Alex Manes #Michael Guerin #a disaster bi and a chaotic gay #what could go wrong #otp:I Don't Look Away #my fanfics #my rnm ff #my malex ff #motoe au

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smutfornerds · 5 years

Text

Good For The Body // Sherloque x Reader

A/N: And here’s our wonnnnnderful end to a day with our little chocolate croissant!! I did my best w/ the French have mercy on me if there’s any mistakes or inconsistencies pls

—

Collapsing onto the couch of the lounge you rested there like dead weight, face firmly planted in the pillows. A slow and frustrated groan hit the fabric of one of them and muffled into it. Admittedly you felt a bit better from the release of tension, but only by a fraction. For a few moments you kept your face buried in the throw pillow. Your mind traveled to the day you’d had, the way your day-boss had thrown - quite literally, it shook your desk how she dropped it - a giant stack of paperwork at you to complete by the weekend. Just thinking about the pages upon pages of mindless work made another groan hit the cushion. Turning your head to face the couch you sighed out audibly again, this time however you heard an amused and familiar chuckle behind you. Flopping your head around to face him, you grimaced up at Sherloque who was fiddling with his monocle and staring at you. “Can I help you?” You muttered, face still squished against the couch. With another bit of a laugh he pushed off the doorway and made his way to sit in the chair opposite you. “Long day, petit une?” The nickname he’d coined for you brought the smallest of smiles to your face and you sat up on your elbows to speak. “Ridiculously long. And stupid and annoying and—“ you slammed your face to the pillow again with an exasperated “Uggggh!” Beside you Sherloque frowned, unsure of how to react to such a response. For a moment he just let you breathe it out and watched as you finally sat back up, now fully. Running your hands through your hair you sighed, the air leaving your lungs in a rush of frustration. “Sorry, I’m just.. beyond drained.” As you spoke you rubbed at your temples, trying to relieve any of the pressure you felt all over your body.

The detective’s trained eyes scanned your body language, seeing the tension in your shoulders and the way your brows crinkled in a way that read as pain and discomfort. He trained his gaze in on your eyes now, and his frown deepened. “You’ve been.. crying.” He stated softly, and you brought your eyes back to him with raised brows. “I-I wasn’t, I was just frustrated, I—“ “Non, not just now, but speaking in general. Your eyes are puffy but not red and you are rubbing your temples like you’ve had a lot of strain to the head, which could be stress but non, is likely from heavily crying, what with the way the crinkle between your brows is défini, much more than on a good day.” He sat forward as he scanned your face even closer now, releasing a sigh through his nose with his lips in a tight line. “Stressed would be an understatement I presume.” His accent hit the final words much thicker and it made you sigh from what he said and also how he said it. Every time he spoke you had to remind yourself to actually focus on the words themselves. “I’m.. I just.. can’t catch a break.” Letting your eyes fall to your lap you twiddled your thumbs a bit before shrugging. “I’ll survive.” Your tone was low and flat, and made Sherloque’s heart sink with how your features looked so sunken. He missed the adorable way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you’d smile at him, it’d been a while since your smile had reached across your whole face in that way. Smiles that deep required the happiness to reach deep too, and knowing now you were lacking that made his heart ache for you. Disregarding personal space he moved next to you on the couch, placing a hand gently to your knee to gain your attention back. “Come back to my little nook and let me make you some tea, oui? Is good for the body, the soul and the mind.” He stood now, not bothering to wait for a yes when he clearly wouldn’t take no for an answer. He did however stop halfway down the stairs to the platform, glancing back to you with a raised brow. “Bien? Are you coming or should I make a half kettle pour moi-même instead?” Your lips tugged up into a reluctant smile the more he spoke his native language to you and you nodded, lifting yourself from the couch to follow him to his room.

When you walked into his little apartment in the basement, you immediately felt comfortable in the room. Sherloque had made a point of making his space somewhere he could relax and focus easily. He kept the lights low and had soft instrumental music playing almost always. Stepping into the middle of the room you heard a subtle whistle of a tea kettle and the brunette stopped to place his hat on the table before moving to the stovetop. It wasn’t surprising he was already in the process of making tea, but what did catch you was that he’d already prepared a full pot. “Expecting company?” You asked softly as you took a seat at the small dining table. From the side of the room he tilted his head back to flash you a smile. “Just you, petit une. I was already coming to find you to ask you for your company when I found you so, so..” he gestured around with his free hand as the other placed the teabags into the water, stirring them around gently once before hanging the strings off the sides. “How would you say?” He questioned and the phrase itself made you giggle. “Distraught?” You added and he snapped his fingers, pointing blindly your direction while his back was still to you. “Oui, je vous remercie.” When you fell silent he hummed a bit, furrowing his brows. “Uh, thank you.” He corrected and you finally nodded. “You’re welcome. Happy to help.” You smiled up at him as he made his way to you, cup in hand before handing it to you.

“Merci.” One of the few words you’d picked up on from him, and you’d even used to correctly. It was almost like the pride you felt for it radiated to Sherloque, and he raised his brows at you with a grin. “Someone’s been taking notes hm?” He sipped his own drink on the last syllable, wide grin still visible behind the teacup. Blowing gently on the tea to cool it a bit you brought the cup to your lips and took a slow sip before answering. “Just a little.” Giving a soft shrug you set the tea down, hands staying wrapped around the warmth though. “So tell me petit une, what is it that has you crying?” He blurted with another sip of tea and you blinked a few times before stuttering for an answer. “Oh, I.. I’m just stressed and exhausted and overwhelmed honestly. I’ve got a lot on my shoulders and it’s baring down on me more lately.” The admission made your eyes falter to the table and you brought your tea up to your lips again, Sherloque simply watching your expression change and your shoulders shrink up instinctively. He could tell you were slipping back into a sadness he didn’t want to see take you so he changed the subject. “And what do you do to relieve that stress, that frustration and pent up energy hm?” His question threw you for a loop, more so because you couldn’t think of a valid answer.

“Well, I uh.. I guess I don’t really actively do anything.” Thinking about it you had a fairly nasty habit of letting your emotions, especially negative, consume you. It’d truly never occurred to you to release these feelings somehow. Noticing the cogs turning in your mind the male smiled. “Would you like to know what I do?” His tone was much more playful now and it made your attention snap back to him intently. “Do tell.” You retorted back with the same tone. Now he stood from the table, gesturing you over to the other half of his makeshift loft. Watching him lead you to the side of his room made up like a bedroom made you heart skip a beat. He sat at the edge of his bed patting the spot beside him which you happily took, and he leaned over to his other side and pulled a book from his nightstand. “So you.. stress read?” The question made him scoff, giving you a side eye before peeling the cover back on the book to expose a flask in it’s hollowed out pages. A genuine laugh breezed past your lips and Sherloque finally saw the crinkly little wrinkles by your now brighter eyes. It was his whole goal, and here he had it, but somehow wasn’t satisfied yet.

Taking the chrome bottle and holding it out to you he smirked. “I believe you call it liquid courage on this earth? We call it sérénité liquide on mine, liquid serenity.” Wiggling it in his hands you heard the gentle sloshing of whatever alcohol it contained. As if he read your thoughts he spoke up again. “Just vodka. Tea is a lovely chaser if need be.” He winked over to you as you took the flask, another small laugh leaving you as your cheeks tinted at the action. Like the detective he was he caught every little change in your demeanor and of course the color to your face and it made his smirk widen. Without hesitation you opened the cap and took a rather abrasive swig. The burn in your throat didn’t bother you as much as the way you shuddered involuntarily as it went down. Beside you Sherloque chuckled warmly, holding his hand out to take it back and take his own couple of sips. Noticing your eyes still on it he passed it to you again, watching as your lips wrapped around the spout of the flask and following the alcohol as you swallowed it thickly. With another shaky exhale you handed it back for him to hide inside his cutout book. After placing it back on his nightstand he turned again to face you. “Vous sentez mieux?” Immediately he caught and rolled his eyes at himself, backtracking to repeat where you’d understand. “Feeling better?” Nodding a bit you shrugged. “I’m sure I will soon.” The words floated through the man’s mind and he wondered if he could speed that process up.

“Well petit une you know what else relieves large amounts of stress and tension to the body?” As he spoke his touch landed on your thigh gently, testing the waters before diving into them. Your eyes fell to his hand, staring for a moment before responding much weaker than you’d intended. “A few ideas come to mind..” Finally meeting his gaze, you couldn’t help but drown in his ocean blue eyes. You watched as they squinted just slightly down at you just before yours closed at the feeling of him closing your gap with a kiss. A small sigh parted your lips and gave him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue between them, causing you to all but melt into him. Sherloque’s strong hands grabbed your hips, pulling you to sit comfortably in his lap. Feeling a surge of confidence - or maybe that was vodka - you moved your legs to straddle his waist and gained a surprised but eager hum from the frenchman. Slowly he laid himself back against the bed, giving another surprised expression when you followed him keeping your lips tightly together. Your tongue curled against his, the taste of vodka shared between you only fueling you to want more. Just to gauge his reaction you ground yourself down into his lap further, circling your hips against him until you felt his bulge hardening between your legs. A low groan came from the back of his throat and met your lips, forcing a small and playful giggle from your own.

Upon breaking the kiss he stared up at you, an almost longing look to his eyes. Placing your hands on his chest you rubbed softly at the fabric of his jumper. “You could do without this..” You blurted mindlessly. His signature smirk curled at his lips again and he sat up just enough to pull the sweater off his body to expose his toned torso and arms. An audible whine left your lips at the sight and it was his turn to chuckle now. “Tu aimes, petit une?” He teased in a low mumble. His hands reached up for your own and placed them back down on his chiseled abs, your fingertips running over every little dip and rivet of his muscles. “Mph.. why do you keep all this covered up? That’s the real mystery.” You kept your gaze on his body and the hungry look behind your stare made Sherloque’s skin feel white hot beneath your touch. Sitting up fully in one swift motion he flipped you onto the pillows, moving his hands to your waist to begin removing your jeans. Your brows shot up at the abrupt action but you quickly followed his lead, peeling your blouse off and flinging it to his floor. Without wasting a second you unclipped the back of your bra and waited until you saw his eyes roam your body to let it fall. “Bon dieu..” He breathed out, eyes still fixated on your chest. Countless times he’d ogled you through however many layers but now here you were fully exposed to him and for some stupid reason he still had pants on. As he moved his touch to his own belt you laid yourself back against his pillows, nibbling at the corner of your lip.

Even with how distracted he was becoming his attentiveness was sharp as a tac. “Quoi? Is that look for, petit une?” He arched a brow at you just as his fingers tugged down the zipper of his slacks. Biting down harder to your lower lip you took the plunge and brought a hand up to your own chest, starting by drawing lazy patterns between and over your breasts just to attract his eye. The moment his eyes zeroed in on your self-love you moved your fingers to your nipples, rolling over the hardening buds before pinching them gently to elicit a sultry and teasing sound to fill Sherloque’s ears. A chill ran down his spine watching you play, and he desperately wanted to be the one bringing such sweet noises from your swollen lips. In a hurried motion he freed himself from his trousers and boxers, kicking them to the floor with your pile of clothing. Both fully stripped you stared up at him through your clouded and enlarged pupils. His matched perfectly, combing over your body like it was a piece of evidence he needed to thoroughly inspect. His hands fell to your hip and side, letting you wrap your legs back around his torso. Before entering you he pressed his rockhard girth to your thigh, slowly pushing until it was flush with your wetness. A small groan left you both at the feeling of each other’s desires and there was no more of this waiting game left in you. Your hand wandered from your chest to his length now, stroking him slowly as you positioned him at your entrance.

Being the genius he was Sherloque took the hint, pushing himself into you in one slow thrust. A gasp filled your lungs and you shivered at the size of him filling and stretching you. After giving a few warm up thrusts he began setting a rhythmic pace that was double time to the slow, melodic music that covered the air. He leaned to let his head rest on the pillow beside yours as his thrusts picked up speed, and the whines you let out for him signaled you wanted more. With each quickened movement he’d roll his hips harder into your core until your back was arching up to meet his movements. You swiveled your hips with every inward motion, making him groan and grunt at your tightness and the way your walls slicked against his member. With one particularly rough thrust you squealed, gripping onto his bulging arm muscles to brace yourself. He took every cue your body gave, slamming into you again at the same angle and groaning when your legs twitched and tightened everything around him. “Seigneur a pitié..” he muttered under his breath, and you rolled your hips up at the words bringing another guttural moan up from his chest and out of his mouth. One of your hands found his lengthy hair and wound itself in it, giving a pull to the brown strands when he hit your inner core again. With a smirk he slowly pulled out of you only to ram forcefully back into you at just the right angle, a loud cry radiating through the room from you. “Right there, petit une? Is that where it feels good? Ou là que?” On the last word he was pulling from you again, and before he shoved himself back in he glanced down at you expectantly. “Y-Yes..” you managed, and just hearing your voice he slammed back into you, another shrill moan filling the room and inflating his ego. “So tight, dieu, petit une..”

Setting back into his previous rhythm he kept his hard thrusts a constant, every flick of his hips upwards making a new high pitched squeal leave your lips. “F-Faster..” You choked out between thrusts and he growled down at you, his grip tightening against your hip and bend of your waist. Happily obliging he moved his hips much quicker now. If he’d been in double time to the music before he was at least quadruple at this point. Sherloque’s wild bucking was shaking his bed frame but neither of you cared. Your body shook worse and that was all he could even focus on. Feeling your legs tighten around him again he braced for your inner walls doing the same and still let a groan trickle out at the feeling. This time even your back arched from the mattress and pressed your body to his, and feeling your naked chest and hot skin against his own made the man thrust even faster. His breathing was as labored as yours and both of you knew the other was close. The hand wound in his tresses gave a sharp tug and his head flew back, seething a gasp through gritted teeth. That particular thrust was much deeper than the rest and your frame pressed to his all over again. “Ah-I’m..” you tried, you really did, but he was too good at everything he was doing. He heard your strained attempt and moved the hand from your waist between you. Fingers finding your clit with ease the calloused pads of his middle and index finger rubbed furiously at the nerves. A screeching gasp came from you and you let it out as a whiny and sharp cry of pleasure. Hearing you practically screaming for him made Sherloque’s thrusts become uncontrollable. He vigorously railed into you, his fingers all the while mercilessly rubbing at your clit. It was only moments before you gave one final scream, mouth gaping open wide as your body shook and curled into his touch. The way you clenched around him made his throbbing length twitch inside you, and before he could ask you just nodded as enthusiastically as you could to let him know it was otherwise covered. At the go ahead he let all the pent up tension go spilling his release into you and warming your every inner inch.

Both of you groaned as your highs winded down. He removed his fingers and trailed them to your lips fully teasing, but was more than happily surprised to watch and feel you lick your juices from him, even giving a sultry little hum as you did so. “Oof, such a naughty thing, mon petit une..” The smirk on his face made you giggle, and the added claim to the nickname wasn’t lost on you either. Slowly as though it was a reluctant action, Sherloque pulled himself from you and collapsed onto his bed at your right side. He gave a heavy and huffed sigh, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead and brushing his hair back. Simply nodding in response you let your eyes flutter closed for a few minutes of comfortable silence while the two of you collected yourselves. He was first to break the tranquility of the moment, sitting up with a small grunt and rummaging through his dresser. He dawned a dark pair of STAR Labs sweats before holding up a sweatshirt and a pair of boxers in your direction. “Pour toi, mon petit une. For you, so you do not get cold.” He tossed the garments onto the bed with a smile, and made his way to make you both a new and fresh cup of tea. You admired his physique all the while getting changed into the crewneck. His shoulders rippled as he poured the drinks, and you caught yourself licking your lips at the thought of scratching them to bits. You’d just tugged the plaid boxers on when he turned back around, and the grin on his face read proud and smug and smitten all in one. “They look better on you than moi.” He teased, motioning you to come back to sit with him at his table. As you stood your legs wobbled a bit and you plopped back onto the bed with scarlet cheeks.

The detective gave a genuine laugh at your struggle and moved to bring the tea cups to the bedside table. Before giving you yours he’d grabbed the flask again wiggling it at you. “Care for more before tea?” As he posed the question he’d already began opening it, and punctuated it with a small shot. You giggled at the hint of a face he made before he handed it over to you to grab his tea in a hast. He hummed appreciatively when the warm drink hit his lips. You grinned as you took two large swings of the bottle, handing it back to him with about half as much alcohol as was there before. Taking your own cup from him now you took a fairly large slurp from the tiny cup. Sherloque chuckled at the sound and slurped his own just to make you giggle in response, which you of course did. “So are you feeling better? Or are we still feeling a tad bit stressed?” The gleam was back to his eyes now and you smirked up at him, before giving a playfully dramatic sigh. “I’m just so, so stressed, Sherloque.. whatever will we do?” You tilted your head his direction and brought your tongue out to run along the edge of your cup before taking the next sip. The male beside you sighed out his nose at the sight of your teasing, stealing your cup away and placing it down before turning back to you with a devious grin. “Oh don’t you worry, mon petit amour, I will happily work that stress out of your exquisite body..” With every word he thickened his accent and leaned further into you until he was ghosting his lips against your own, looming over you. Admittedly your eyes were glued to his skillfully bilingual lips, and he - of course - noticed. In an instant they were locked to yours again, and it didn’t take long for both your stresses to melt away into the mattress. The tea was well past cold when you finally felt too relaxed to go on, drifting off to sleep cuddled close and securely to Sherloque’s chest.

#sherloque wells #the flash #sherloque wells smut #sherloque wells x reader #the flash smut

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nebulous-frog · 5 years

Text

That’s the Plan

Summary: “Do you think you and Phil will be best friends forever?”

“That’s the plan”

Word Count: 1376

Genre: Fluffiest fluff, some introspection

Warnings: Food mentions

Author’s Note: I’m a teensy bit late whoops but June 2nd, 2019 was apparently the 10th anniversary of Phil first replying to Dan and so I thought “what if this is the day they recognize as their friendiversary” and here we are

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

2010

For the first anniversary of the day Phil replied to Dan, they were in Portugal on holiday.

It was their last day before they had to leave and each go home. It had been a busy and exciting trip spent in close company with Phil and he so wished they could stay together like that forever, but he also was looking forward to having nothing to do. As fun as the trip had been, Dan was reaching the end of his energy from all the activity they’d done.

But, as it was their last day there, they decided to make the most of it. They toured the city, taking pictures all the while. Neither of them wanted to post the pictures anywhere; these photographs would be a sacred vault of memories of their time together. In these pictures, they could be as affectionate as they wanted. They usually weren’t too concerned anyway, only refraining from blatant PDA in what the put online, but it felt good to be so carefree.

That night, they went to a restaurant with outdoor seating and a lovely view of the city. They couldn’t afford anything too nice after what they’d spent on the trip itself, but it was warm and comfortable and perfect.

They exchanged sappy words about how glad they were to know each other and how excited they were for the future. Later, neither would remember exactly what was said, the words escaping into the warm night air and leaving behind only the impression of giddy love, and that was plenty enough for them.

2014

By their fifth anniversary, they had lived together for three years. Their careers were taking off, exciting ideas were swirling in their minds and the quiet space of their flat in London.

Dan woke up that morning to find himself alone in bed, an unusual occurrence given Phil’s adoration for morning cuddles. He glared at the cold sheets as though they had something to do with Phil’s absence. When that didn’t magically make Phil appear, Dan sighed in annoyance and rolled over to find his phone on the bedside table. He pulled up Phil’s name on his phone and sent him a text.

Where r u I want cuddles

Not long later, Phil’s reply came in.

XD guess you’ll have to come to the north for that

Dan’s brow furrowed. The north? Phil hadn’t mentioned visiting his parents recently.

What are you on about

While he waited for a response, Dan looked around the room. It didn’t seem like Phil had packed a bag and left while Dan was asleep. His eyes kept scanning and finally settled on a piece of notebook paper taped to the door. It appeared to be a sign and read “Wokingham”.

Lol you’re in wokingham, im very far away? Did you somehow forget?

You’re a dork

With a groan, Dan rolled out of bed and opened the door. On the floor was a cardboard box, open so Dan could see the carpet. At least, some of the carpet. Most of the floor of the hallway was lined with more cardboard. All along the cardboard, Phil seemed to have drawn lines that Dan had to imagine were supposed to be train tracks. The side of the box read “Train: Reading to Manchester”.

Dan fondly rolled his eyes before leaning forward out of the doorway to see what other surprises waited down the hall. An incoming text interrupted his inspection. He glanced down at his phone.

(Step in the box and walk down the hallway to find me)

Dan sighed dramatically. Down the hall, he called, “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” When he got no answer, he sighed again but did as he was told. The box was tall enough that he had to hold it up around himself by the edges, which wasn’t a very comfortable handhold, but he resigned himself to it anyway as he shuffled down the hall.

For a fleeting moment, he considered how ridiculous he probably looked and the fact that Phil wouldn’t even see whether he wore the box or not. It was exactly what he needed: another reminder of the fact that Phil could ask him to do anything and he would agree in a heartbeat.

At the end of the hallway was the lounge, or rather “Manchester”, given the sign on the door. Dan set the box down and flexed his fingers for a moment before pushing the door to “Manchester” open.

Phil had converted the lounge to a mockery of his first apartment. The sofa was still against the wall but now had Phil’s duvet and pillow resting on it like a made-up bed, a single small table next to it. He had rearranged the furniture so everything felt smaller and more cramped together, blocking off an entire wall with stacked-up furniture. On the coffee table (since their dining table had been sacrificed for the sake of the set) was a stack of fluffy pancakes, a Starbucks coffee, and a rather large bouquet of flowers. Origin of Symmetry was playing quietly in the background.

Sat on the floor next to the coffee table was Phil, hair pushed back and still in his pyjamas.

“Surprise!” he giggled. “Happy friendiversary!”

Dan grinned. “You’re such a nerd.”

“A nerd you stalked and harassed for months,” Phil reminded him teasingly.

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who replied to a stalker so…” Dan trailed off, raising his hands as if to say so there you go.

“Just sit down and eat your pancakes, Howell.”

Dan complied and they ate quietly for a while until he spoke up again.

“Thank you for this, Phil,” he began. “It’s cheesy as hell, of course, but it’s really sweet of you.”

Phil smirked. “As if cheesy romantic gestures bother you.”

“Oi, shut it,” Dan warned, though it lost its effectiveness when he giggled. “Somehow, I think I kinda like you.”

“Wow, Dan, thanks for that,” Phil deadpanned.

“Okay, okay! I love you. Like, a lot. And I’m really glad you decided to talk to me.” He tried to keep his tone just a tad snarky, wanting to stay away from too much of a true display of emotion, but the soft smile that grew on his lips gave him away.

Phil leaned in over the table. “I love you, too,” he whispered. He kissed Dan gently, pulling back after only a brief moment.

Dan whined and reached forward to grab the front of Phil’s pyjama shirt and pull him back in. Phil let him, laughing into the kiss.

When they came up for air a while later, Dan breathed, “Happy friendiversary, Phil,” before diving back in for more.

2019

Their tenth anniversary was special only in that they both took the day off. They’d had an exciting night just before, having seen Muse live for the fifth time. They’d used their anniversary as an excuse, but really they both knew what they wanted for their anniversary this year: peace and quiet together.

The day began slowly with cozy cuddles. Closeness had always been important to them, amplified by the difficulty they’d had finding a time and space to be close on tour. Even though the tour had been over for so many months, they still remembered all too well how separate they had to be in that time. They were no longer making up for lost time, but they couldn’t seem to kick the habit of clinging to each other any chance they got.

They finally got out of bed when they got too hungry to ignore their rumbling stomachs any longer. In the kitchen, they moved in perfect synchronization with the muscle memory of years of such a routine. They sat on the sofa watching their current anime, Dan resting his head on Phil’s shoulder when he finished eating.

Ten years on and anniversaries didn’t mean the same thing anymore. They were still important and still meant a lot, but not in the same way. Now, staying together for more years didn’t seem like a surprising accomplishment but rather a promising, stable future. Anniversaries like this, then, didn’t need grand gestures, cheesy celebrations (although Dan did still love those), or even words. All they needed was each other.

#phan #phanfiction #fluff #established relationship #friendiversary #anniversary #10 years

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theartificialdane · 7 years

Text

Galactica, part 230

In this Sutan tries to escape, Alaska goes out, Bianca seeks forgiveness, Pearl wonders, Nina is on the war path, and Violet can’t breath.

Thank you @veronicasanders @toriibelledarling and @samrull <3

“Does this taste weird to you?” Violet held out her cup of tea, not really looking at Sutan as her boyfriend took the cup from her. “Did your housekeeper do something to the kettle?”

“Violet, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Just taste it, please.” Violet picked up the kettle, checking it over, even though she had no idea what she was looking for. “Do you think I should leave her a note, I’d really hate to tell her how to do her job, but my tea is almost undrinkable and I really want to pick Frida up before work...”

“I’d rather not.”

“Sutan, what are you talking about?” Violet turned her head, looking at her boyfriend, a confused expression in her eyes.

“I’m sure the tea is fine. I haven’t been to the dentist yet, so I’d really rather not.”

“What do you mean you haven’t been to the dentist yet?” Violet couldn’t believe what had boyfriend had just told her. It had been about weeks since their lunch date and Violet had assumed Sutan had gotten it fixed, the man one of the most responsible people she knew.

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t have to go to the dentist.” “You just refused to drink a cup of tea. That does seem like a big deal.. Or a potential one..” Violet took the cup from Sutan, the sour taste of it forgotten. Violet didn’t like telling Sutan what to do, didn’t like this conversation one bit, but her cheek was still stinging slightly from last night, the intimacy they had shared during the night giving her the courage to stand up to him. “So I’m scared of the dentist, everyone is scared of something.” Sutan shrugged, not really meeting Violet’s eyes as he went to the fridge to grab some juice, Violet watching his broad back.

“Sutan, you should really go… What if it’s because there’s something seriously wrong? You’d never know if you don’t go…”

Sutan turned around, juice in hand, watching Violet. “Does it really matter that much to you?”

“It does..” Violet bit her lip, the pain centering her as she stood her ground.

“Fine.”

“Really?” Violet’s eyes lit up, not expecting her boyfriends easy defiance, or the smile on his lips.

“Yes, but only if you go with me.”

“I’d love to.”

***

“Do you think it’s bad?” Courtney asked, wriggling out of the clothes she’d traveled in and pulling on a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt.

Ben lay on her bed, scrolling through her text messages with Bianca. “I’m going back so I get the full context.”

“Okay, but don’t scroll up too far, because you’ll see--”

“AUGHH!! JESUS CHRIST, COURTNEY!!”

Courtney laughed. “I told you not to scroll too far.”

“You haven’t learned your lesson with the nudes?”

Courtney rolled her eyes. “The lesson boosted my album sales.”

“Fair enough. Okay, so...damn…” Ben started reading their text messages. “You’re stone cold, sis!”

Courtney sighed, sliding onto the bed beside him, taking Kylie into her arms. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how much of a bitch was I?”

Ben read some of the messages aloud. “Bianca: Bunny, what time is your flight landing? You: 4:30. Bianca: Okay, I’m gonna try to get home early. I can’t wait to see you. Heart Eyes. You: No Answer. Her, an hour later: Day moving so slow. Her: This is torture. Xoxo. Two hours later: Did you land safely? Love you baby. You: Yup.” Ben looked up. “Cold as ICE.”

“Did you see Fame when she was here?” Courtney asked.

“Not really. I saw her briefly in the morning, when I got home.”

Courtney made a face. “What was she wearing?”

“Pasties and a thong. I dunno. Probably a dress. Who cares? Why are you so freaked out about their friendship?”

“Because! They used to be more than friends, and--and…”

“Didn’t Bianca fuck like, everyone in town? So what?”

Courtney’s shoulders sagged. “It’s not that. Fame runs to her every time she has an issue with her husband. And it’s like...their relationship is so…”

“...I’m listening...”

Turning on her side and cuddling Kylie against her chest, Courtney looked into Ben’s eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks as the turmoil she felt inside came bursting out. “Ben, everyone in Bianca’s life thinks I’m not good enough for her. Sometimes, /I/ don’t think I’m good enough for her. But Fame? You know what a dream couple they’d be? They’d be fashion royalty and I’d have nothing, and the thought of it just makes me sick, and I can’t even look at her. Do you know that she was trying to sleep with Bianca in SEPTEMBER? And sure, Bianca said no, that time, but Bianca is human and Fame is a gorgeous woman who happens to have a personal tragedy every time we’re apart for a few nights, and I can’t...how am I supposed to compete with her!”

“I love you, sis, but you sound like a paranoid psycho right now.”

Courtney wiped her eyes. “Yeah, well. Maybe because I am. So what?”

Ben laughed and reached over to give her a hug. “Touché. By the way, have you actually talked to Bianca about any of this?”

“I’ve tried. She’s not interested.”

“Try harder.”

Courtney leaned her head back against the pillows. “Yes, sir.”

***

Alaska held open the door for Kim and ushered her inside. Kim looked at her, delighted.

“Is this a barbeque joint?”

“Yeah, girl. The greasiest, grimiest, most delicious smokehouse in all of Waikiki.”

“Oh. My God. I fucking LOVE you!” Kim threw her arms around Alaska and squeezed her tightly. “I thought for sure you were taking me to some juice place.”

“No way. I mean, I eat healthy at work because everyone is so judgey there. And with the girls because both Jinkx and Adore would literally drink butter if I didn’t cook vegetables for them. But trust me, this place is worth every calorie. I used to come here like 8 times a week during college.”

Kim followed her to a booth, pulling out a stack of sketches and storyboards. “I really want to show you the updated concept art in a dignified way, but I’m way too distracted by the crispy onion rings on that guy’s steak over there.”

“That’s called the Heart Attack. It’s also got pork, 3 kinds of cheese, and 2 sauces. It was featured on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.”

“I LOVE TRIPLE D!”

Thirty minutes later, with the art spread all over the table, Alaska’s notes scrawled in a notebook, and barbecue sauce all over Kim’s face, Alaska leaned back. “Okay. I think we’re good. We’ll meet the director tonight, help the team finish prep work tomorrow, and then shoot on Wednesday.”

“Mmmph,” Kim agreed.

“You’re stunning, by the way. The picture of glamour.”

Kim raised her middle finger, stuffing another ginormous bite into her mouth.

***

“Baby!” Bianca’s voice rang out.

Courtney looked at Ben, taking a deep breath. “Here we go,” she said softly, and then called back, “In the bedroom!”

The door banged open and Bianca tossed her coat and briefcase onto a chair, slightly out of breath from running, kicking off her shoes. Her eyes smoldered at Courtney. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“So...do you still hate me?”

Courtney’s eyes softened slightly. “Of course I don’t hate you.”

Still gazing directly at her girlfriend, Bianca said, “Ben, get out.”

“Nice to see you too, B.”

“Fine, stay,” Bianca said, jumping onto the bed and pressing Courtney into the mattress, kissing her deeply, hands sliding under her shorts.

“Gross,” Ben said, moving away from them. “Come on, Kylie. Let’s let these lesbians do...whatever it is they do. Ugh.”

“Shut the door!” Bianca yelled after him, then turned back to Courtney, kissing her neck, sucking lightly along her jaw.

“B…” Courtney said, shifting, “We really need to talk...”

Bianca lifted her head, moving her hands up to cup Courtney’s breasts, rolling her hips. “You want me to stop?” She ran her thumbs over Courtney’s nipples.

Courtney whimpered as sparks raced through her body, arching up against Bianca, grinding against her, fingers digging into her shoulders. “How come you always play dirty?” she asked, panting.

“Because being dirty with you is my favorite thing,” Bianca replied, smirking, rubbing her nipples harder, brushing their lips together.

Courtney moaned and threw her head back, bucking her hips up and wrapping her legs tightly around Bianca’s waist. She could feel the tightness growing in her abdomen, and by the time Bianca’s mouth traveled down her body, warm hands pulling her shorts off, she was trembling, desperate for release. Bianca started to kiss her, lick her lightly. She threaded her hands into her girlfriend’s hair and yanked her head up.

Bianca gasped, both shocked and delighted by the suddenness of the hair pulling.

“No fucking around,” Courtney said, “No torture. Be nice.”

Bianca laughed, kissing her inner thigh teasingly. “Who, me?”

Courtney pulled on her hair again. “I’m serious!” she insisted, digging a heel into Bianca’s lower back.

“Yes, your majesty,” Bianca said, and began to hum against her.

Courtney closed her eyes, finally relaxing, giving herself over to the moment, wrapping both legs around Bianca’s shoulders with a deep sigh.

Bianca licked her, sucked on her, bit softly at her, felt her fall to pieces. When she was on the edge, moaning uncontrollably, Bianca pressed two fingers against her and crawled over her, trailing her lips against her warm, wet skin until she was hovering over her. “Courtney.”

Courtney writhed against her, letting out a petulant whine.

“Courtney...look at me.”

Courtney forced her eyes open, which were liquid with agony.

Bianca kissed her forehead. “Who loves you?”

“You’re a bitch!” Courtney panted.

Bianca laughed. “True...but you knew that already.” She nibbled on her earlobe, rubbed the pads of her fingers against her clit with an excruciatingly soft touch.

Gasping for air, Courtney dug her nails into Bianca’s back, whimpering, near tears. “Please B, please…”

“Do you know how much I love you?” Bianca whispered.

“Yes!” This was how Bianca always won. Because she ignored the point of the whole argument and just bulldozed her way through. Courtney wasn’t upset because she thought Bianca didn’t /love/ her. She was upset because, first of all, she just straight up didn’t like Bianca and Fame having slumber parties when she wasn’t around. But she was more upset because she knew that she didn’t have any right to tell Bianca not to spend time with one of her best friends, especially when she was going through a difficult personal trauma and Bianca was her source of comfort. She was upset with herself, for being insecure, and she was upset with Bianca for not allowing her to talk about it. For never wanting to acknowledge that something in their relationship wasn’t perfect. Courtney could handle feeling upset. What was worse was having her feelings be minimized by someone she loved. But of course none of this would matter, ultimately, because Bianca was doing what Bianca always did. Using sex as a weapon to put her in her place. And of course, it worked. She was putty in Bianca’s hands, as usual. “Yes, yes!”

“Do you love me?”

“Oh, god, yes!”

“Good.” Bianca kissed her firmly on the mouth, sliding a finger inside her, watching her eyes roll back. She slowly worked her way down Courtney’s body again, licking at her nipples, then pushing her thighs apart and sucking hard on her clit.

Courtney moaned and arched, hips thrusting against Bianca’s face, spasms rocking her whole body over and over. Her hands gripped the comforter, knuckles white, sweat dripping down her brow. “Oh, fuck, B, keep going,” she gasped, letting out another moan.

“Mmmm…” Bianca hummed, swirling her tongue, trailing her fingers up and down Courtney’s thighs.

Courtney swallowed hard, heartbeat finally slowing down, chest heaving. She threaded her hands back into Bianca’s hair, cradling her head. “Oh, god.” Her hips continued to roll slightly, riding out the aftershocks.

Bianca sucked on her again, squeezing her ass. “You taste so fucking good. What have you been eating?”

Courtney laughed, falling against the pillows, spent. “I was in LA. So like...mostly those roadside fruit stands...And coconut water...”

“Fuck.” Bianca rubbed her face against Courtney’s abdomen.

“I’m actually starving,” Courtney admitted, still breathing hard. “You wanna order some dinner?”

“No thanks, I just ate,” Bianca said sleepily.

Courtney laughed again and pulled on her hair. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yep,” Bianca grinned up at her, dimples deep in her cheeks. “By the way, I have something for you. Open the top drawer of your nightstand.” Bianca danced her fingers over Courtney’s skin.

Courtney reached over and pulled out box wrapped in shiny pink paper. “Wow, you really felt guilty, huh?”

“Yeah. And so Fame said I should buy you jewelry.”

“Did she,” Courtney asked flatly. She slowed down her unwrapping process, a funny feeling creeping into her stomach at the mention of Fame.

“She also called me a homewrecking slut and said that you not trusting me was my karmic destiny.”

Courtney burst out laughing. “That’s probably the funniest thing she ever said,” she proclaimed, then added, “Sorry.” Inside the box was a rose-gold butterfly necklace covered in rainbow Swarovski crystals. Courtney lifted it out, trying to suppress her smile.

“Do you like it?” Bianca stroked her thighs, gazing up at her.

“It’s a sparkly rainbow butterfly. What’s not to like?”

“Well...believe it or not...there are people in the world who wouldn't necessarily want a sparkly rainbow butterfly.”

Courtney ran her fingers through Bianca’s hair. “That’s really sad. Those people probably kick puppies for fun and hate sunshine.”

“Probably...” Bianca lowered her face and began to kiss her again, watching through her lashes as Courtney bit her lip, squirming.

“B...seriously, we do need to talk…”

“Talk about what, baby? What’s more important than how much we love each other?” Bianca whispered against her, hands smoothly parting her thighs.

Courtney closed her eyes. “Nothing,” she sighed. “Nothing’s more important than that.”

***

“Laila! I can’t find my leather pants!” Pearl was digging through her closet, annoyance itching at the back of her mind, her and Laila's wardrobe smashed together, all of Laila’s thing overflowing the already stuffed closet. Pearl waited for a beat, before she realised that Laila wasn't’ actually home, the other woman visiting the friends that had taken care of Turbo while they were in Europe. Pearl cursed and kicked the closet.

“Fuck!”

Pearl grabbed her foot, her toes aching and she threw herself down on the bed, a desperate meow coming from the bed since she had fallen on Turbo, Turbo speeding off, the cat hating Pearl even more than it already did. Pearl sighed, angry tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. Fame had been horrible since her meeting with Patrick, and the blonde wouldn’t share the details at all, Fame making outrageous demands and expecting a level of perfection and tidiness she /knew/ Pearl couldn’t provide.

Pearl loved her job, she liked writing, and it was okay being a boss, like, most of the time, but sometimes she wish she was just free. Free to go on all night benders, free to do whatever she wanted. Pearl sighed and turned over, Laila’s computer on the bed and Pearl smiled, the stickers she had put on it years ago still there. Pearl had suggested a new one for Laila, had even said she’d paid, but Laila had said no. If only she could didn’t have any obligations, if she could stay home all day and do whatever she wanted. Pearl smiled slightly, imaging to herself what it would be like if she was Laila’s stay at home wife.

***

Nina marched into Bianca’s office and slammed the door behind her. “I cannot believe you!”

“Uh…” Bianca gestured to the phone in her hands, pressing the mute button. “Excuse me...what the fuck?”

Nina crossed her arms. “I’ll wait,” she said snidely, sitting down onto the sofa.

Bianca rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.” She unmuted the phone. “Yes, yes, that all sounds FABULOUS, darling! We’ll have to get a group together the next time we’re in Italy...well, I’m hoping in the Spring, but if not then maybe next Fall, after fashion week. It’s been so long since I had a real vacation there…” she laughed. “Of course, of course…”

Nina glowered, tapping her foot.

“Well yes, we absolutely adore this new campaign. It’s just outstanding...I might have to steal your models, though…” Bianca laughed again. “No, not like that, you cad, I’m off the market now. Come on...Yes, really...Yeah, even for Luisa...Tell her I’m flattered, though… Right!…Yes...” Bianca looked over at Nina, making a hand gesture indicating that the other party wouldn’t stop talking. “Yes, wonderful...Alright...I’ll have Joslyn set that up...Thank you so much...Okay...Ciao!” She hung up and turned to Nina, who was glaring at her venomously. “I’m sorry, did you want me to tell the Fendi rep to shut the fuck up because you decided to have an unscheduled hissyfit?”

“We talked about this Violet Chachki Galactica spread last week and now Dan tells me you’re moving forward full steam ahead?! Are you KIDDING me?!” Nina exploded.

Bianca took a calm sip of her coffee. “I heard your concerns. I overruled you.”

“I am SICK AND TIRED of all this nepotism!”

“Can you please chill out? She’s a very talented designer. You LIKED the clothes she designed for the last two fashion weeks. So why are you giving yourself an ulcer over it?”

“BECAUSE! There are lot. A fucking LOT of young, talented designers out there! We know this! I meet hundred of talented designers every year. And do they get meetings here? No, they do not. But because some woman you used to fuck wants her little protegée to get a feature, BAM--”

“You are totally out of line, Garcia--”

“Maybe so, but am I wrong?! Look at the number of political hires here! I didn’t even choose my damn assistant!”

“You love Shannel.”

“Yes! I do! But she got that job before she walked in the door, because of who her father is and who her godmother is, and how the hell can you, as a fellow woman of color--”

“Oh, here we go…” Bianca rolled her eyes.

“--continue to let that happen!? DON’T ROLL YOUR EYES, BIANCA! How are young people like you and I going to get a shot if you keep hiring white kid after white kid because of family connections, without even interviewing other candidates?”

“Bitch, you went to boarding school. Your daddy is just as rich as Shannel’s. Don’t try my fucking patience.” Bianca went back the her computer, suddenly bored with the whole conversation.

“Bianca, I suggest you take this seriously. Diversity makes an organization stronger. You’re crippling the creativity of this place by refusing to accept that our homogeneity is a problem.”

“We’re done now. You can go.”

Nina rose from the couch, fuming, and walked to the door, shaking her head.

Bianca picked up the phone. “Joslyn...call Violet, and tell her that I want her to come in tomorrow at 4 with everything she’s finished so far. I’d like to move up the date of the Galactica photoshoot and I need to see what we’re working with.”

“Got it!” Joslyn chirped.

***

Betty hated going into the warehouse, the place giving her the creeps, and even though Shane insisted that it wasn’t haunted, Betty wasn’t sure she agreed. No one made as many lives miserable as Raja and Fame did without causing at least one poor soul to the brink of madness. Betty turned around a corner, the light dim in this part of Galactica’s gigant layer of fabrics, buttons, laces and sewing supplies, when she heard a faint cry. Betty stopped walking. She wasn’t superstitious, not really, but in that moment she swore on her grave that if anything happened to her, she would haunt Shane until the day he died.

“Hello? Is anyone in here?”

The sounds stopped, and as Betty turned the corner, she saw… Violet? sitting on a large pile of cotton-wool.

“... Violet?”

Violet looked up, her face red, her mascara running, her lipstick smudged, her neck filled with red marks, her necklace in her hand and it looked like she had torn it off, her nails cutting into her skin.

“Chacki, are yo- Violet…. Are you okay?” Betty sat down, the other woman making herself even smaller as she pulled her legs closer, Betty not reaching out to touch since she didn’t want to do… She didn’t even really know, but she had never seen Violet like this before.

“I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?”

“They want to see the collection. They want to see the collection tomorrow and I’m not ready, I’ve got nothing!” “Hey, hey, Violet, calm down.” Betty grabbed her friend, giving hell to the thoughts she had had only moments before, Violet’s slender shoulders feeling so fragile and breakable in Betty’s hands as she held her. “You have plenty, I’ve seen your stuff, I’ve seen your wor-”

“It’s not done.” “Violet. They don’t expect you to be don-”

“What if I fail?”

Betty furrowed her brows. She had never seen Violet this freaked out before, her friend covered in sweat, and Betty suddenly realised why it all looked so familiar to her. This was what Shane looked like whenever he had a panic attack. What was she suppose to do? Violet was breathing heavily, like she was going into another burst of hyperventilation, and Betty felt herself panic as well. If this had been Shane she would have slapped him, plain and simple, but this wasn’t her boy- husband, this was Violet who was still a mystery to her, so Betty did the only thing she could think of, which was hug Violet tight. Violet held her breath, the woman stiff and Betty was just about to panic and figure out if she could somehow call Sutan without moving, when Violet relaxed against her, her arms going around Betty as she clung to her, Violet’s breath finally returning to normal as the two sat together.

***

“Okay, mum, that’s a great idea, I’ll tell her…” Ben said into his phone, walking into the bedroom, where Courtney was sitting on the bed, earbuds in, Kylie in her lap, working on some lyrics, humming to herself. She didn’t notice him until he was practically in her face and then she jumped about a foot, startled.

“JESUS!”

“Nope. Just me. Mum and I think that this whole ‘I’m not good enough for Bianca del Rio’ emo nonsense is a bunch of bullshit. Right mum?”

Annette, via FaceTime, waved to Courtney. “Hello darling! I didn’t put it exactly like that, but we do think that you need a boost of self esteem and that--”

“You need the self-pity slapped right out of you!” Ben exclaimed, giving his sister a hearty slap on the cheek.

Courtney shrieked, grabbing her cheek. “BEN! MUM DID YOU TELL HIM TO DO THAT?!”

“BENJAMIN LUCAS WHAT IN HEAVEN’S NAME!” Annette cried. “No, I most certainly did NOT!”

“How is you hitting me supposed to improve my self-esteem?” Courtney asked, still holding her face.

“Ummm...I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Ben said. “But I feel much better. Okay, bye mum, talk to you later!” he made some kissy noises and hung up the phone. “And Courtney...stop being such a whiny little bitch and embrace how awesome you are. I mean shit, you’re related to me, and I’m everything.” Ben sashayed from the room, calling, “Goodnight, don’t wait up!”

Courtney watched him, shaking her head. She looked down at Kylie, scratching him between the ears. “Your uncle is crazy.”

#galactica #au aag verse #rpdr fanfiction #my fics

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