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lost-in-the-80s · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x (fem) reader

Words: 2,373k

Requested by: anon

Summary: It's your first Christmas with Izzy and he gives you the best gift ever. (smut + fluff)

A/N: I didn’t have intentions of doing the requests this year, but I had to do this one. I hope you guys like it! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! :)

Warnings: Mature content, swearing, some kinky stuff (handcuffs) and unprotected sex (use a condom, guys).

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @metalupyourash add yourself to my tag list :)

It was the Christmas of 1986, even though there was no snow, the Christmas atmosphere had taken over Los Angeles.

Streets and shops had been decorated with countless lights and themed decorations. The houses had their Christmas trees, full of colored balls, among other ornaments.

Your apartment had not been left out of the Christmas spirit. You and your brother, Joey, had spent the month decorating every detail. The entrance carpet had been replaced by one with a reindeer-drawn, with the phrase "Merry Christmas" in red. In the living room, a huge Christmas tree was prepared, filled with red and white balls, your favorite colors, before being filled by countless bright lights.

You and Joey lived away from your family, so you almost always ended up spending Christmas just the two of you. It was simple, but it was almost a tradition, after all, you lived there for several years already.

But this year was different, Joey had been invited to spend Christmas in Northern California, at the home of his boyfriend's parents. He was afraid to leave you alone, but you assured him that Izzy, your boyfriend, would spend the night with you.

Izzy was never a Christmas guy, he found the celebration meaningless and celebrated only for the profits of the trade. Since moving to Los Angeles, he had never celebrated Christmas.

But he knew that you loved the date, you had talked about your plans for Christmas since the beginning of November and he already kind of expected you to invite him.

You were together for just over six months, you had met at the guitar store where you work and ended up dating right afterward.

When you mentioned that your brother would not be present and that you wanted him to come and have supper with you, he said he needed to think.

Izzy wanted to tell you that he saw no need to spend Christmas together and that he was just going to stay home with the boys. Or some of the boys, since Duff would return to Seattle and Slash would spend it with his mother.

It would just be him, Axl and Steven, drinking and using heroin while a tower of beer bottles made by Duff, graced the house in the absence of a Christmas tree.

But you were important to him, and Christmas was important to you. So he decided to put aside his dislike for the date and make an effort for you.

That same night he called you, saying he agreed with one condition: No expensive gifts. You quickly agreed, you were never one of the materialistic types, and to be honest, spending the date with Izzy was worth more than any gift he could buy you.

Izzy arrived at your apartment in the middle of the afternoon on the 24th, bringing a bottle of wine for dinner and placing his gifts under the Christmas tree.

You spent the rest of the afternoon watching Christmas movies, your favorite ones. Movies that you had seen hundreds of times and knew all the lines by heart.

You could see that Izzy was bored, but he never complained, mostly because he loved to see you laughing with those silly films, or the way you said "this is my favorite part" before some cliché scene goes on TV.

When night came, you went to the kitchen, preparing pork with potatoes and rosemary and putting it in the oven for supper.

You positioned yourself in front of the sink, starting to wash the pieces that had been used during the day when Izzy hugged you from behind. His hands circled your body as he spoke next to your ear:

"I'll take care of the dishes. Why don't you take a shower?" He kissed your neck. "I know you want to change for supper."

He knew you so well, he knew you would wear something fancier, even if it was just the two of you, having dinner at home.

Following his advice, you went to the bathroom, staying in the bathtub for long minutes, feeling the warmth of the water against your skin as you murmured a song.

When the water cooled, you got up, wrapping the towel around your body and looking for what to wear in your closet. Your red strapless dress was the winner, choosing red lace panties to match, you got dressed quickly, before getting your hair done and putting on perfume.

Entering the kitchen, you could smell the pork, Izzy had already set the table and was waiting for you.

"You look beautiful." He kissed your cheek, guiding you to the table.

"Thank you, Iz."

The two of you ate calmly while you told him countless Christmas stories you had with your brother and from the time when you still spent Christmas with your family.

When you finished eating, you went to the living room, Izzy sat on the couch while you took his gift from under the tree.

"Open it." You said smiling.

Izzy took the package from your hand, opening it slowly, smiling when he saw it was a book.

"I know you wanted to read this one." You smiled.

"Thank you, sweetheart. I love it." He kissed your lips lightly, before getting up to pick up your gifts.

"I couldn't make up my mind so I bought two." He laughed lightly, as he sat beside you with two small boxes in his hand.

"Open this one first." He handed you a blue box with a white ribbon.

Gently opening the box, you smiled when you saw a gold necklace with your initial letter inside.

"Izzy, it's beautiful! I loved it!" You kissed his lips, but he pulled away before you could deepen the kiss.

"Don't forget that you have one more." He smiled, handing a red box, slightly larger than the previous one.

Smiling excitedly, you undid the golden bow and opened the box, your mouth parting when you saw what was inside.

Inside the box was a pair of handcuffs with a key.

"Izzy…" you looked at him and saw his smile become a smirk.

"I thought we could have some fun ... what do you think?"

"I…." You didn't know what to say, you had never used handcuffs before, and even though you and Izzy had had sex several times, you had never used anything like that.

"What do you say, Y/N? Would you let me handcuff you?" His voice was hoarse, as he ran his fingers down your face, running his thumb slowly over your lips.

Thinking for a few seconds you concluded that the idea seemed interesting.

So you nodded before saying. "Yes."

Getting up, Izzy offered his hand to help you do the same, he walked slowly, guiding you to your room before stopping for a second and looking you in the eye.

"If you don't feel comfortable anymore, say stop and I will stop and uncuff you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Izzy." His seriousness made your core start to get wet. You loved how serious he was when you did that.

He kissed you passionately, his hands held your face while you found the strands of his hair.

Walking away after a few minutes, Izzy instructed you to stay where you were as he walked around you.

Standing with your back to him, you felt his breath against your skin and you bit your lower lip in anticipation. He pulled your hair aside and slowly unzipped your dress, letting the garment fall to the floor.

Izzy kissed some spots on your back, before whispering in your ear. "Get on the bed, love."

Obeying, you walked slowly over to the bed, lying on your back while keeping your eyes fixed on his.

He climbed onto the bed, placing one knee on either side of your body, he gently grabbed your wrists, hooking the cuff on one and passing the chain through the headboard before securing the other.

Izzy slowly undid the buttons on his shirt, keeping his gaze fixed on you and smirking when he realized that your gaze was fixed on his abdomen.

"Do you like what you see, Y/N?"

You nodded, smiling when he leaned over to steal a kiss from you.

One hand held your face while the other traveled your body, feeling every inch of your skin. He lightly squeezed one of your nipples, making you let out a small moan, muffled by the kiss, which guaranteed the space he needed for his tongue to invade your mouth and start an aggressive dance against yours.

Izzy pulled away from your lips, kissing the full length of your chest until he reached the bottom of your panties. Kissing your core over the lace fabric. You tried to move your hands, but the handcuffs held you in place, making Izzy smile victoriously.

"In a hurry, Y/N?" He laughed lightly, running his cold fingers down the length of your leg, making a shiver take a hold of your body.

He slowly removed the piece from you, throwing it on the floor to keep your dress company.

Holding one of her legs, Izzy kissed the top of your foot, then your ankles, until he started to apply kisses on the inside of your thigh, making you try to move your hands again.

Licking your folds slowly, he found your clit, making alternating movements over it. His tongue was fast and precise, he certainly didn't want you to wait for his member to cum.

"Izzy." You whispered his name.

He then inserted a finger inside you, making a moan leave your lips.

"You’re a big girl already, I think you can take two." Izzy said smiling, before turning his lips to already clit and penetrating you with one more finger.

His fingers crossed inside you, hitting your G spot in just a few seconds, making a loud moan leave your lips as your back arched.

After a few minutes you were already a mess, your wrists started to hurt with the countless times you had tried to loosen up to tug at his hair, but the pain was nothing compared to the pleasure you were having.

Izzy kept his head trapped against your core, making it his mission to see you cum like this, and if he continued like this, he would be able to complete his task quickly, as your moans were becoming disconnected and your legs retracted against him every few seconds.

And then you came, with one of Izzy's hands clasping your breast and the other partly inside of you, while his tongue acted deftly with circular movements on your clit.

"Oh my god!" You exclaimed loudly enough to fill the room and the corridor, your back arched and your eyes rolled as your legs pressed against him strongly.

"It's actually Izzy, but you can call me God too." He laughed, removing his head from between your legs and slowly removing his fingers from you, seeing your liquids drip slightly.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them slowly. "Better than dessert." He whispered, kissing your lips once more, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

Getting up, Izzy quickly removed his pants and underwear, stroking his member a few times before getting on the bed and stopping between your legs.

“Now tell me, Y/N. Have you been a good girl?”

You nodded quickly.

"Very well, I believe you." He adjusted his member with your entrance, slowly penetrating you.

The present sensitivity thanks to your orgasm, making a small moan leave your lips.

Izzy started moving, in and out of you, keeping his eyes fixed on yours, while creating a slow, passionate rhythm. He leaned over, kissing your lips once more, as his hands traveled through your curves.

"Izzy." You whispered, closing your eyes, making a moan leave his lips.

"Ah, fuck."

Speeding up his movements, Izzy hit your so-called G-spot, again that night, his fingers tightened firmly on your waist, keeping your body still as he moved faster and faster into you.

"Ah, Izzy." Your moans were so loud that you were almost sure your next-door neighbor could hear them.

His thrusts were slowing down as sweat washed over his forehead and much of his body.

Lying in bed, you were experiencing a completely new sensation, seeing Izzy giving you so much pleasure and not being able to touch him, no matter how torturous it was, that turned you on even more.

Your hands gripped the headboard bars tightly while your head fell back with a loud moan.

Your walls were tightening, Izzy could tell, he was almost there too, you knew that because of the focused look on his face, which he always acquired when he was about to come and wanted to make sure that you did too.

"You are so fucking beautiful!" He groaned, moving his lips to your neck, kissing and biting your skin.

"Izzy... I'm going to…." You were unable to finish the sentence when a moan came out of your throat.

"I know, baby …. me too." He managed to speak between breaths.

A few seconds later your legs started to shake and your walls tightened even more, his name left your mouth over and over as you closed your eyes feeling the pleasure consuming you.

Seeing you in that state, released Izzy to his own climax, growling hoarsely as jets of his cum entered you, mixing themselves with your liquids.

"Holy shit." He collapsed on top of you, trying to catch his breath.

After a few seconds, he stood up, slowly removing his member from you while admiring the mess he had made.

"You know, I think I'm starting to like Christmas." He laughed before cleaning the two of you and putting on his underwear.

Getting on the bed again, he released one wrist at a time, kissing the place gently. "Are you alright?" He asked, putting a stir of your hair behind your ear.

"Yes." You managed to say it in a weak voice. You were tired.

"Come here." Lying on the bed, Izzy pulled you to lie on his chest, covering you both with a blanket and kissing your head lightly, stroking your hair until you fell asleep.

#harley writes #Izzy Stradlin #izzy stradlin fanfic #izzy stradlin imagine #izzy stradlin fic #izzy stradlin x reader #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fic #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses x reader #gnr #gnr imagine #classic rock #classic rock imagine #izzy stradlin smut

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dearingbooks · 3 years

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The Difference one Woman can make.

Late Friday night in June, we had stopped for a burger on the way to the cinema, we used to do family movie nights at the cinema when a new film came out that the majority of us wanted to watch, this time I was the one who was reluctant to go, sadly we do this significantly less now. So, stubborn 2015 me, rolling her eyes and dragging her feet up the cinema steps to find our seats to watch the new Jurassic World movie. Pathetic! I thought, why pay money to watch a movie about a dinosaur theme park! My parents had completely lost it! Huffing and puffing I took my seat on the aisle and sipped my blue raspberry slushie and looked up at the big screen. Ugh! I wanted it to be over, quickly. I sat down and shut my mouth, despite not wanting to watch it, I wasn’t going to spoil it for the others; but I didn’t get why they would want to watch it, I watched the trailer before going, was not impressed, it looked dumb!

However, as much as my pre-Jurassic self would not like, I found who I was during that movie, I discovered a whole new admiration for actors and movies. I found that I related to the main female protagonist, Claire Dearing. She did not need a man, or children, she was so focused on her career and let no one boss her around. She was top dog, and I completely fell for this fictional character. I evolved through that movie with her character, I felt content with being a strong female who put career over family. I wanted to embody this fictional woman; I wanted to be her.

On the journey home I typed ‘Claire Dearing actress’ into google and saw this stunning redhead- Bryce Dallas Howard. I immediately recognised her from movies I had watched prior, and I was completely astounded at her range of characters she can portray and portray them well. After scrolling through her Wiki page and reading news articles about her, I learned that she is the daughter of Ron Howard, one of my parents’ favourite people in film.

“Dad, that woman in the movie is Ron Howard's daughter”, I needed to inform my family that my now favourite woman in film is the daughter of my parents’ favourite people in film. My parents were shocked that I enjoyed the movie despite my loud vocalisation of not wanting to watch it.

Googling ‘Bryce Dallas Howard’ became my new after school routine, learning that she applied to acting school as Bryce Dallas to avoid people knowing she is the daughter of an already famous actor and director, and she had met her true love at nineteen and is still happily married to him. Yet what most stuck out to the self-conscious, body hating 2015 me, was that Bryce wasn’t a skinny twig of a woman that you see in most movies, she had classy curves and promoted body positivity despite some backlash the media gave her. I made a connection with this woman I had never met because I too received negative comments about my figure, yet Bryce took that on the shoulder and learned to love herself. I wanted to feel that self-love about myself that she acquired.

After watching Jurassic World, I explored many more fandoms, and from there I became obsessed with movie franchises and TV shows, actors and directors. I could not give you a full list of all of the fandoms I am in, there are too many to count, and they have all played a role in helping me evolve to who I am today. All because I latched onto one character from one movie I did not even want to watch, one film got me hooked on this life: it’s like a drug. I cannot stop. I also went back and forth with my hairstyle due to this woman; in the movie Bryce has a stunning ginger graduated bob with a fringe, however I never had the guts to go ginger until now; shame the hairdressers are all shut.

Now, almost six years later Bryce Dallas Howard has had great success in directing two episodes of The Mandalorian. Over the Christmas break I watched the show with my dad, sat on the sofa, fire lit, the chocolate Labrador curled up between us, peach vodka and diet lemonade in my hand, hot cup of tea in my dad’s. We binge watched both seasons in a week (it’s amazing) and he was shocked to see ‘Directed by Bryce Dallas Howard’ at the end of one, let alone two episodes. “Shit, she’s come far in the past few years” he said putting another episode on.

Bryce allowed me to find my best friend, Iz, through Instagram; Bryce has brought so many people together it is so surreal. And when I found out that Iz was going to Southampton University in 2019, a 20-minute drive from my house, I was finally able to meet her, because of one woman we both adore. I was friends with Iz for three years before I was able to meet her, I asked my school friend to come along with me so she could film the moment Iz, and I met! We got pancakes and watched the second Maleficent movie at the cinema, it was one of the best days of my life. I was so thankful that I met a truly hilarious and loving girl through this one actress! Because of Bryce Dallas Howard, I have made so many other friends from all over the globe as they too idolise Bryce and together we have created the ‘BDH online family’. A small group of us do regular zoom calls to catch up and chat about the recent photos and updates that Bryce has posted on Instagram, talk about Covid-19 and the types of restrictions and lockdown rules each of our countries has. During one of our calls, we had the craziest idea- Invite Bryce to one of our zoom calls. Bryce said yes! And after a few months of organisation, we had the date. The date was-

My.

Birthday.

The day came around and I was so nervous, it was 11pm exactly. The Wi-Fi had cut out fifteen minutes before the call. I was in tears. Mascara down my face, puffy eyes, I joined the call with a few minutes to spare before Bryce joined it. My mum hung around off camera for the first 5 minutes to double check the Wi-Fi was stable, luckily it stabilised. The other girls had never been so glad to see me, everyone was panicked for me; I could not miss it for the world (despite telling my parents, in floods of tears, that I cannot join and that it’s the end of that).

“Kat! You’re here!” “Happy birthday!” “Are you okay? The Wi-Fi sorted?”

They all chimed, happy to see my little face in the bottom right corner of their computer screens. Luckily Iz was there, otherwise it would have been extremely awkward with only one of us since we are known as a duo in the online family, we have to do everything together, we come in a pair and there can’t just be one of us.

“Shit girls, that was stressful”

I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath until I exhaled the large breath when my Wi-Fi settled, and I was on the call, I fixed my makeup and was ready to meet Bryce.

The few minutes we had before Bryce joined were intense, two of the girls left to get a drink and we weren’t sure if they would be back in time, luckily they did return.

“No way!” One of them, Anna who was hosting the call, gasped “Bryce is in the waiting room!”

We all freak for no more than 10 seconds, we compose ourselves then our faces are reshuffled, and we see this stunning glowing face that we all admire smiling at us. Omg, it's her.

“Hi girls!”

I have never smiled for so long in my entire life, my cheeks hurt afterwards. Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining at all, it just hurt as I thought I would only be smiling for half an hour, since that is how long we were told Bryce had. However, we were speaking to Bryce for nearly an hour and a half, she just kept talking and asked us questions! She was so lovely to talk to, so relaxed; it was if I was talking to a friend that I had known for years!

“Before we go I want to all sing Kat a happy birthday!”

My idol wanted to sing me a happy birthday! The other girls were really ecstatic for me, I still can’t believe to this day that The Bryce Dallas Howard wanted to sing to me!

It was both the best and the worst happy birthday song that has be sung to me. It was the best because, well my idol was singing to me! And proposed the singing! It was the worst in terms of the actual song as they were all out of sync and lagging, it was bloody hilarious!

At 10:27pm the next evening, watching a rerun of Game of Thrones on Sky, I got a notification ‘Brycedhoward just posted’, I clicked the notification then see our smiling faces on her page, she posted a screenshot of our call on her social media! The call was supposed to be a secret so other fans weren’t upset. There’s a few snotty comments on the post, but they’re just jealous and to be frank, I don’t care! My smiley face is on her page forever! All ten of us have printed the screenshot of Bryce’s post off and put it in a frame, one day all ten of us hope to congregate somewhere, most likely in America, and sign the backs of all of our photos. I’m still in utter awe and shock- How many celebrities have you seen that would do a free zoom call with some fans? Not a lot, and that amount is even slimmer when they talk for an extra hour than scheduled. Bryce truly is one of a kind and the best idol anyone could ever hope to have.

Compared to a zoom call with Bryce herself, the few times she has liked my comments on her posts feel like nothing in comparison! I remember being so excited, running downstairs to my parents.

“Mum! Dad! Bryce liked my comment! She knows I exist!”

“Was it actually her? Remember when you got a Facebook request from Robert Downey Jr and it turned out it was a fake account?”

I rolled my eyes at her, it was Bryce, it was her verified account. The comment was a book recommendation I had for her, she posted on her hashtag BDHbookshelf and I thought I’d take a chance and comment a book recommendation I had for her, and the chance paid off.

I cannot wait to see what the future holds with Bryce, she has been such an inspiration to me for the past few years, and she promotes such wonderful causes and body positivity! I hope to one day meet her and thank her in person for changing my life for the better, and I think I’ve come up with the perfect opportunity to meet her- Iz and I have decided to travel up to London for the Jurassic World Dominion premiere in 2022 (if Covid lets us!), we’d get a hotel and actually meet Bryce in person, as well as meeting other members of the online family!

Words cannot fully contain the admiration that I possess for Bryce, her soul is utterly and truly exquisite, she has been such a visionary while I’ve been transitioning from a girl who had no idea who she was with no dreams or aspirations, to a woman who has now found so many new friends and now knows who she wants to be.

#bryce dallas howard #claire dearing #jurassic park #jurassic world #jurassic #blog #owen grady #chris pratt #marvel #Claire Dearing fanfic #bdh #bdh online family #writing #celeb #Jurassic fanfic #june 2015 #film review #favourite films

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silentauroriamthereal · 3 years

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5,900 followers!

So! I’ve been on tumblr since about August 2013 now. I had been away from fandom in general for a solid 3-4 years by that point, having left the Harry Potter fandom after a good deal of waning interest, which was definitely accelerated by basically everything about JKR (and this was before she outed herself as a major TERF) - adding to the canon with random shit she would say in interviews, etc, the whole “Dumbledore is gay” - but not in actual canon, including not making it canon in the movies that came after, etc. When I left the HP fandom, fandom in general was still very much on livejournal, though due to endless issues with LJ, people had already started drifting off to other platforms, which led to a widespread sensation of the fandom breaking up. My offline life got busy, I started my masters, and just didn’t have either the time or the interest in writing HP fanfic anymore. I had written 1.5 million words of fic and figured I was about out of words, anyway. My longtime friend, @moonflower-rose, had designed me an icon with the Latin phrase cacoethes scribendi, which basically means an endless mania for writing. I had started to feel that I wasn’t living up to that anymore, too, so I just quietly disappeared.

Fast forward to 2013 and my encountering the ridiculous talents of Benedict Cumberbatch via Star Trek Into Darkness (still think that title needs a colon, but what can you do) and immediately needing to see everything else he’d ever done. I’d heard of Sherlock in my last, lingering days on LJ, but hadn’t decided to delve into it at all. At this point, only series 1 and 2 were out, though setlock photos for series 3 started emerging just after I plunged wholeheartedly into the Sherlock fandom. I was hooked immediately by Ben and Martin’s acting, by the interesting stories (though I was irked from the beginning of the treatment of Irene Adler and the imposition of a hetero-ized romance of two obviously (one canonically!) gay characters). I was irked by the lazy writing and easy outs that Moffat and Gatiss always seem to prefer. Nevertheless, I was only about halfway through The Reichenbach Fall when I was seized with a feeling that was half sinking and half elated: that I needed to write about these two people. The old urge had come back, and it came back hard.

Now, a little over six years later, I’m over 2.3 million words deep into this fandom, with 88 posted stories and another that’s over 16,000 words in at this point. And the place where I re-found fandom and all of the community that comes with it, was here. It’s still astounding to me that anyone reads my stories. It’s astounding to me that 5,900 of you follow me. It’s really, really cool. :)

I used to make a post like this about every 100 new followers, but I’ve sort of slacked off it lately. If you’ve been following me for a long time, this will be repetitive and I’m sorry! But here goes:

-I generally follow everyone back, with the rider that, if the blog posts too much untagged content that I’m not interested in and can’t filter out because of the lack of tags, I’ll unfollow, just because that’s a lot of blogs. Sometimes tumblr doesn’t show me who followed me. If you’re following me and I’m not following you back and you wish I were, please, please, please just drop me a line and say so and I’ll fix it!

-I post my stories at ao3. I have not imported my HP stuff and have no desire to do so. You can still find it at skyehawke.com. As long as skyehawke is still up and running, I will leave my HP stories there. Meanwhile, my Sherlock stuff is all posted here at ao3.

-if you’re someone who has the means to support writers and artists in the fandom and that’s something you’re interested in doing, I do have a Patreon account. It’s over here. I always feel intensely squirmy about promoting this and only have it because @ravenmorganleigh made me get it (bless, lol). As a person who is perpetually struggling to make ends meet, I feel badly because I can never afford to support anyone else financially (every month that I make the rent is a win, basically). The donations people make through my Patreon have often meant the difference between being able to buy groceries or not. I don’t mean to be dramatic about this, but that’s literally the case, and I’m endlessly, endlessly grateful to every single dollar anyone has ever donated. But please don’t ever feel that you need to do this and please don’t if it isn’t something you can afford! I mean that. Also, my Patreon is set up for monthly contributions, and if you’re just dying to make a donation but want it to be a one-time thing, I also use PayPal, via my fandom email account, which is [email protected].

I’ve met some of the most amazing people here in this place and I’m very glad that I chose to come back to fandom, to find my own creative voice again, to have this chance to discuss and share excitement or rage or humour, and to be a part of so many of your lives, in whatever small way. I always get introspective at this time of the year, since it’s not only about to be a new year, but my birthday is also right at the end of the year (it’s December 30th), so I always end up having Big Thoughts About Life in this window between Christmas at the end of the year. Today, this is my Big Thought: how grateful I am to have all of you, in whatever large or small way, in my life. <3333333333333333333333

#SA's long rambly Thoughts #fandom #sherlock #johnlock #5900 followers

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slashscowboyboots · 3 years

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The Blackboard Jungle: All I Want For Christmas Is You (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Izzy tweeted! And in celebration, here’s the final part of this fic

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket @no-stone-no-bone @sexcoffeeandrockandroll @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @smokeandmirrorz @sodalitefully @roger-taylors-car @harley-m-rose @whisperess33 @shawolat @80snikki @rumoured-whispers

Warnings: the f-bomb, total holiday fluff

You wound your way through the department store, dodging people and wanting to puke from all the Christmas music as you searched for your mother a nice gift. She was the last one you had to buy for, and you wanted to get her just the perfect thing this year.

I think she has plenty of snow globes, you thought, absentmindedly turning one upside down and watching the glitter float down, then heard someone call your name.

You turned and looked into the grinning face of Miss Peterson, Patti’s third-grade teaching cohort.

“Hiiiii, doll,” she chirped.

“Hello, Cindy, how are you?”

“Oh, I’m just great. Are you shopping for your boyfriend?”

“My boyfriend? I don’t-”

“Patti told me all about it. I mean, well she made a long post on Instagram, how the two of you had been friends for so long, good friends, at least she was to you, and you chose that Jeff Isbell over the happiest day of her life-”

“Did she really?” you snapped. “Well, since the two of you are so close, please tell her I said, ‘Merry Christmas.’” And go fuck yourselves, you thought, deciding your mother would enjoy a very nice pair of diamond earrings.

It was unbelievable to you, how you and Jeff were the names on everyone’s lips anymore, especially since it was all so mistaken. It was heartbreaking how everyone thought you were a couple, when you were simply coworkers who were also close friends.

Of course, you were never able to get him out of your head, especially since the Thanksgiving program. Your combined classes had first traced their hands and colored their drawings in, decorating their turkey pictures with feathers and googly eyes (you stifled a laugh watching the Harrison twins hungrily eyeing the paste, and snorted when you saw Jeff leaping over a chair with his gangly legs to glue their turkey eyes down himself) and enjoying their lunches together.

He had excused himself during the break, and you paused while eating your sandwich, thinking about how really good he was as a teacher, how he never once talked down to the kids or lost his patience with them. He always had time to listen to them, hanging onto their every word.

And they loved him in return, every single one of them showing them their turkeys the second they finished them, and the amount of praise he heaped on their artwork made you smile.

Putting away your lunch bag with a sigh, you looked up just in time to see a six foot tall turkey, complete with wattles, standing in the doorway of your classroom. His tail feathers were so impressive he had to turn sideways just to make it through the doorway.

The children erupted in cheers, and Mr. Isbell strode in and fanned his plumage to their great delight, then announced that if they all quieted down, he would read to them, “Bear Gives Thanks.” After he closed the book, he asked them what they all were thankful for.

He got various answers, from “my new puppy” to “my dad got a new job.” But the one that stood out the most was from Cicely Brown. She raised her hand and said in a quiet voice, “Mr. Isbell, I’m thankful for a teacher like you.”

Tears pooled in his eyes, and you heard a catch in his voice when he whispered, “Thank you.” He turned around (well, awkwardly walked in a circle to turn around) to you and asked, “Miss Y/L/N, what are you thankful for?”

“Hmmm. I’m thankful for friends. And I’m thankful for every person that’s in this room.”

His eyes met yours, his smoldering gaze still able to buckle your knees. “Me too.”

“But I don’t want to be an elf.”

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N, I went and got an elf costume just for you. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

You put your hands on your hips and pouted. “I have plenty of Christmas spirit. Why can’t I be Mrs. Claus?”

“Because she doesn’t hand out candy canes. She stays home and entertains strange men while Santa works all night.”

“Oh, she does not!” You smacked Jeff’s arm, shaking your head. He really was going to talk you into this getup, wasn’t he?”

You took it from him and he said, “Hurry up and get changed. I need you to help me put on the Santa suit.”

“Why do you need help?” you called from the coatroom, pulling your green and red striped tights on.

“Because I make a skinny Santa, and I have to hold the belly while you button the jacket.”

When you came out, he had already changed into his Santa pants and boots and was sitting at your desk expectantly holding a pillow over his chest and stomach.

“Jeff, you really should eat more if you want to wear this suit,” you laughed, buttoning the buttons over his padded belly.

He made a face, and you said, “What?”

“Nobody calls me Jeff except for my mom.”

“What do they call you?” you asked, puzzled.

“Izzy. Or Iz, if you’re into the whole brevity thing.” He buckled his belt as all the wind left you, then he slapped your elf hat onto your head. Flicking the bell to make it jingle, he said, “C’mon, Sugar Cookie, let’s make a bunch of little people happy.”

It was entirely possible that you wished all the students a Joyous Holiday and handed them a candy cane after they visited with Santa. You had no idea if you actually did, the earth had screamed to a halt after you’d heard Jef-uh, Izzy’s admission.

After all the pupils had left, he shot you a delighted grin, then furrowed his eyebrows at you. “Hey, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you said softly. “I’m….hot.”

“Me too. Let’s get changed and go back to the party.”

Although you were dazed, you flung your elf costume off in record time, exiting the coatroom in time to see Izzy unbutton his Santa jacket and toss aside his pillow. He slumped in your chair clad in a white undershirt, slinging an arm against his forehead to wipe off the sweat, and when he dropped it down beside him you could see a tattoo just below his elbow.

Without thinking, you walked over to him and picked up his wrist. Written in delicate script high on his inner forearm was desperadosdreams.

He tried to pull away from you, then he noticed you gasping for air with tears in your eyes. “Does that make sense to you?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, then pressed your lips to his, leaning down and throwing your arms around his neck. When you pulled away for a breath, you looked into his eyes, then pushed the sleeve of your shirt up and extended your arm.

“Does that say IZ?” he asked in a halting voice, and you nodded again, then climbed onto his lap for another passionate kiss. You carded your fingers through his hair as his lips traveled down the front of your throat, then he rubbed his nose against yours as you heard PJ Jones say, “I saw Miss Teacher kissing Santa Claus. And he liked it!”

“Hi, Ian!” you smiled, holding up your ring finger.

“Hi!” he grinned. “Ooh, that’s nice! Congratulations!”

You held your phone toward Izzy. “Ian, this is Izzy.”

“Oh, shit, he’s cute,” Sia said. “Hi, Sexy!”

“Izzy, this is Sia. She’s Ian’s fiancee.”

“Well……” she said, then they both held up their ring fingers.

“Omigosh! You guys got married?!” you exclaimed.

“Yes! I had to promote ‘Sharknado’ at the MGM Grand, and well, since we were in Vegas, we-”

Sia interrupted, “We found this Elvis impersonator, and it was so tacky and cool, I couldn’t have asked for a better wedding.”

“Congratulations! Can you guys come to ours?”

“When is it?” Ian asked, with Sia hollering “Hell yeah!” in the background.

“Next spring. We don’t want to wait that long.” You leaned over and pecked Izzy on the lips. “We’ve waited our whole lives to find each other, we want our married life to begin as soon as possible.”

Thank you so much for being a part of this fic! Because of wedding plans and moving and all that good jazz, I won’t be writing fics online anymore, but I will never forget how wonderful it was to have all your support. Love you always, desperadosdreams

“I do,” you said.

“You bet I do,” Blaze said, sliding your beautiful wedding band on your finger.

“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Blaze, kiss your bride,”

He swept you in his strong arms, spinning you around, then dipped you and kissed you hard, the first kiss of the rest of your lives, as the fiery red sun sank in the horizon behind the two of you.

Now it was time for the two of you to begin your lives together, and dream as one. And as he kissed you again, you knew you’d found forever, and he had been worth waiting for.

#izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses fanfic

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doc-pickles · 3 years

Text

make my wish come true

Hello! And welcome to your weekly edition of “Tis the Damn Season for Two Dumb Bitches” (thank you taylor swift for our new title) I’m super excited about this post because my brain power is coming back and this is like the first real thing I’ve written in awhile. Enjoy!

PS: @odd-birds-and-booksellers hurry up the people are waiting

“I’m sorry babe, there’s a storm and there’s no flights going to Seattle at least until the 27th.”

“You were supposed to be home two days ago Alex,” Jo tried to contain her frustration as she settled onto the couch in the empty living room. She stares at the Christmas tree in the corner, the boxes of lights and ornaments spread out on the floor around it. “The house isn’t even decorated and now I’m going to have to spend Christmas alone.”

“You can go to Meredith’s, I’m sure the kids would love to see you. I’m sorry, you know I'd be home if I could.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re not here! I’m just… this is exhausting. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up,” Jo swiped at her eyes as tears began to well up in them. “Just text me when you have a flight.”

“Jo, I-”

“I have to go,” Jo let a shaky breath out, running one hand through her hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Ending the call, Jo threw her phone onto the cushion next to her as she let her tears freely fall. It had been six months since Alex had come home from Kansas for the first time, sitting across from her and telling her about Izzie and their kids and everything that had happened in the two weeks he had been gone. There had been screaming and crying and a lot of fighting, but they had both decided that their marriage was worth saving. Alex had been splitting his time between Kansas and Seattle as much as he could which unfortunately left Jo alone more than she would care for. She loved that Alex had stepped up to his new role as a father, she even loved Eli and Alexis like they were her own, but recently her and Alex’s relationship had been strained.

Alex's absence from Seattle wouldn’t be an issue if he and Jo hadn’t just moved into a new home. The two story home was supposed to house the twins on their visits to Seattle as well as any other tiny Karev’s that might come along. The thought made Jo laugh now, she’d spent more nights alone in their new bedroom then she had with Alex despite the fact that she’d gone off her birth control two months ago.

They’d decided that they wanted kids of their own, that they were ready to start their family. Jo was regretting that decision now, she barely saw Alex and when she did their time was split between work and arguing. The only times they’d even had sex since deciding to try had been out of anger and frustration, meeting in on call rooms late at night and muttering curses as they set a quick and desperate pace while they both had a moment to spare. Between on call rooms and the one time in their new bedroom that Alex had lavished her body for hours on end, there hadn’t even been a chance to try for a baby.

Somewhere deep down, Jo was grateful for that. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a baby with Alex, she really did, but she didn’t think that their practically long distance marriage wouldn’t handle the stresses of a pregnancy and a baby, the thought nauseating her as she sat with the thought. The sudden wave of nausea got her brain turning, calculating how long it had been since she’d been to the store for tampons….

Cursing under her breath Jo ran upstairs and began to dig under the bathroom sink for the pregnancy tests she kept stashed there. Leave it to Alex to get her pregnant when they were barely having sex. She missed him, she wished so badly that he was sitting on the other side of the bathroom door making fun of her as she peed on the four pregnancy tests. As she sat on the closed lid of the toilet waiting for an answer to appear on the four pieces of plastic, her phone lit up with a text.

I’m sorry I can’t be there tomorrow. I promise your Christmas gift will more than make up for it. I love you so much Jo.

Before she typed out a response, her eyes flitted to the tests waiting for her, all of them reading the same exact thing. A heavy sigh left her then, eyes closing for a moment as she took a steadying breath.

Love you too. See you soon.

Jo barely sleeps that night, in fact when she does fall asleep it’s on the floor of the bathroom because she can’t seem to keep her dinner down. She’s hurt and upset and kinda pissed that her morning sickness seems to have cropped up late at night. She almost calls Alex, when she’s half asleep and crying on the bathroom floor she almost reaches for her phone and dials his number because she misses him so much. But she knows in the end it’ll only make her feel worse because he can’t be there.

When she wakes the next morning her back is aching and her face is cold from the tile of the bathroom, but her stomach turns uncomfortably and sends her back to the toilet bowl. She’s shocked that there’s anything left for her to throw up, but she’s heaving and gasping for air just like she’d done all night. The twisting feeling in her stomach intensifies when she realizes that she’s home alone in a huge house on Christmas and will probably spend her whole day in the bathroom. A round of sobs accompanies her next bout of nausea, hot tears streaming down her face as a feeling of loneliness encompasses her, reminding her of her solitary days spent in her car.

“Jo?”

Jo looks up in surprise at the voice sounding from the doorway, her eyes meeting her husbands for just a moment before the urge to vomit overwhelms her exhausted body once more. This time Alex’s hands are on her back rubbing circles as she continues to cry between heaves. She’s barely registered her shock at his presence, just grateful to have him close to her.

“Geez, you look awful,” Alex’s remark barely phases Jo as she flushes the toilet and leans heavily against him. His fingers find their way to her forehead, feeling for any sign of a fever even though she knows he won’t find one. “You probably just have a bug, why don’t you go lay in bed?” She doesn’t have time to ask how he’s home, her body barely makes it to their bed where she promptly tucks herself under the covers. She thinks Alex says something to her, but she’s asleep before she can register it. Her mind drifts off more peacefully than it had the night before knowing Alex is here now. Even if she has a million questions, she’s just glad she doesn’t have to spend the holiday alone.

When she wakes up again, the sun is filtering through the curtains brightly and the other side of the bed is occupied. Jo turns around to look at Alex, who’s sitting against the headboard looking down at her, “You know staring at people is creepy. And rude.”

“I think I get an exception since you’re my wife,” Alex smirked, running one hand through Jo’s hair as she snuggled back into her pillow. “You feeling better?”

“A little bit now that I’ve gotten some sleep,” Jo paused before moving her gaze away from Alex. “What’re you doing here? You said you wouldn’t be home.”

“I had to fib a little bit, I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t think you’d be lying in the bathroom throwing up when I got home, but now I’m glad I’m back because I’m not leaving this time.”

Jo’s brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of Alex’s words. Of course he was going to leave again, his kids lived in another state, “You're going back after the new year Alex, you already booked your flight.”

“No I’m staying here and so are the kids.”

She took a moment to soak in Alex’s words, head spinning as she tried to wrap her mind around it. Finally she sat up, propping her head on her hand as she stared at her husband in confusion. Alex wore a smirk as he watched her slowly put together what he was saying, “Alex Karev what the hell did you do?” “I didn’t do anything, Izzie decided to move back to Washington for her mom and that means the kids are 30 minutes away instead of almost halfway across the country,” Alex shrugged as Jo gawked at him, her shock clearly evident on her face. “That’s why I’ve been out there so much, because I’ve been helping Iz pack up her house and get the kids ready.” Jo’s eyes are wide as she registers everything that Alex is saying to her. She almost doesn’t believe him, but his behavior the past few weeks all makes sense now. She wants to cry in relief, for her marriage and her exhausted husband and their new baby. In fact she almost does as she meets his eyes again, realizing that he probably feels just the same as she does.

“I’m sorry about that, being gone so much and leaving you here, but I promise that I’m not gonna be gone from here on out,” Alex lets his hand trail down to Jo’s stomach, a smirk on his face as he does so. “I wouldn’t want to anyways, someone’s gonna have to hold your hair back if you’re gonna be puking for the next few weeks.”

The satisfied look on Alex’s face tells Jo that somehow her husband has figured out she’s pregnant without her telling him. A small grin lights up her face as she blushes, “I just figured it out myself but I’m sure the constant vomiting would’ve given it away sooner or later.” “Yeah and the tests you left on the bathroom counter were also a pretty big indicator,” Alex let out a laugh as he leaned down and kissed Jo sweetly. “Merry Christmas.”

“I know you said your Christmas gift was good but I think mine is better,” Jo grinned up at Alex, a laugh escaping her as she sat up and straddled his lap. “Merry Christmas.”

#jolex #alex karev #jo wilson #jo karev #greys anatomy #jo x alex #jolex fanfic #jolex fic #nina writes #TDBT #christmas fic #fix it fic

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

Four Years and Counting

A gift fic for @vindicatedvirgil! I hope you enjoy the soft Virgil bonding content^-^

Summary: Virgil just wanted to make a surprise breakfast when Janus and Remus show up and interrupt him. He ends up being grateful for the intrusion. Familial holiday fluff.

Ships: Familial DRLAMP

Warnings: food and holiday mention. Ask to tag others!

WC: 1809

Four years.

Virgil grinned in the darkness as he crept silently down the hall towards the stairs. It had been four years since he had done this the first time, sneaking down to the kitchen to grab snacks before the light sides would wake up to start their holiday celebrations. He had shut himself up in his room- pointedly ignoring Patton’s tentative “Merry Christmas, Logan’s straightforward knock, Roman’s stomping footsteps; even Janus and Remus Visit had gone ignored as he simply turned up the music and buried himself further in his blanket nest, so sure that if he would come out no one would really want him around or he’d be passively persuaded to go back to the dark sides territory where he belonged.

The subsequent years had gotten easier, especially after he had been accepted. He still snuck down to get snacks and a couple of Logan’s famous peanut butter cookies before retreating to his room and waiting for someone to urge him down the stairs for breakfast, still not entirely convinced he was actually wanted. This year though, this was the first year he was coming down the stairs at five in the morning for reasons other than sneaking snacks under his mattress and shoving a couple water bottles behind the dresser. This year he was coming down, phone shoved in his pocket and one headphone in playing softer music as he made his way carefully down the steps, knowing just where to plant his feet so as to not make a sound. This year he knew he wouldn’t be doing anything unwelcome or stepping on anyone toes if he made breakfast for everyone. This year he knew Roman would smile and Logan would brush their fingers and Patton would ruffle his hair and they’d sit down and be a family.

His smile turned bitter for a moment before he shook his head and continued forwards, mentally ticking off the ingredients he’d need to gather to make what he was planning, hoping to everything emo related he could make it right even if he didn’t have the most experience baking out of all of them. That honor oddly went to Logan, who’s precise nature led to the least amount of fires being accidentally (or on purpose in Remus’ case) being started in the kitchen. Patton and Roman tried but they definitely needed supervision when it came to making food. Virgil shuddered at the thought of charred to a crisp lighter-fluid flavored hot dogs having been made as recently as this past July.

Moving to the fridge he grabbed out the butter to soften before puffing out a breath and looking around the kitchen to figure out where the rest of the ingredients would be kept. It took him a few minutes but eventually everything was set out surrounding a large mixing bowl. Apparently dumping the flour straight into the bowl wasn’t the way to go as he quickly turned to sneeze it out of his nose, stilling and listening for any sign he may have woken anyone up. Breathing out a sigh of relief as he heard nothing he turned back around and prompty shrieked before clapping the hand previously holding the measuring cup over his mouth while said cup bounced harmlessly off of Remus’ forehead. The side didn’t react at all, not even blinking as he took in the ingredients on the counter he was currently perched on.

“Watcha doin’ Virgin?”

“Remus what the fuck get off the counter!” Virgil hissed, ignoring the nickname in favor of shooing the other off his space.

Simply levitating a few inches Remus stayed where he was still gesturing to everything laid out. “I didn’t know you baked, you never did when you lived with us!”

“Because this,” Virgil gestured to the now pouting creativity. “Would have been a regular occurrence and I was not equipped to handle you at six in the morning. Now get the hell off the counter so I can make these in relative peace-”

“Remus how many times have I told you to grab and go, the others will be down soon and I do not need another speech telling me that we aren’t-”

Janus’ voice cut through the kitchen abruptly, making Virgil swallow down an instinctive hiss as he stared at the deceitful side who now stood stock-still in the doorway taking in the counter space and Remus’ hovering, coming back to rest on Viril’s conflicted face. “I didn’t rea;ize- usually you’re gone by now.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Stalker much? And what do you mean ‘grab and go’? What have you been taking?”

Janus sniffed indignantly and tugged his gloves further up his wrists. “Logan’s cookies are something Remus and I refuse to miss because of some idiotic grudge the ‘Light Sides’ have against us. And if you say anything against us taking some you are a raging hypocrite since you snuck in here to do the same thing years before you were even known about.”

Smushing his mouth to one side of his face Virgil looked down for a moment to take in the knowledge that the others had been doing the same thing as him for a taste of familial normalcy for as long, if not longer than he had. His thoughts were interrupted however by a quiet squeal from Remus.

“Gingerbread pancakes? You can make those?!”

Virgil turned back to him. “I don’t know yet, I was interrupted before I even started.”

“Well we wouldn’t want to interrupt you further. We’ll come by at a later time, come on Remus.”

The darker aspect pouted once again as he finally got off the counter and dragged his feet towards Janus, muttering something about comparing batters which Virgil dutifully extracted from his brain. Taking a breath He reached out a hand and tugged on Remus' somewhat greasy sleeve.

“If you guys wanna- stay...and help...I could probably use it.” He met Janus’ eyes very briefly before dropping his hand, anxiety spiking minutely as he shuffled awkwardly in place. “Only if you want to, obviously.”

Remus bounced back to his former position but now closer to the ceiling, grinning wolfishly as Janus hesitated before stepping into the room fully. “I don’t know that the other’s-”

“It’s the holidays Janus. Just- set the table while I figure out how to mix this up.” So saying Virgil turned his back and turned his phone back on to go down to the steps in the recipe, holding his breath until he saw Janus grab a stack of plates while snapping quietly at Remus and mouthing “Down now” making Virgil roll his eyes fondly. He had missed this; though their dynamic wasn’t as easy as it once was they were still learning and Virgil- was more willing to take steps than he had been previously. They both still pissed him off to no end the majority of the time but he figured that was pretty normal for them at least. He could handle making pancakes with them in the room as long as Remus left the batter alone.

Some time later the batter was mixed, Remus now resided on top of the fridge swinging his legs joyfully while he licked the whisk and Janus was dutifully ignoring him in favor of brewing strong coffee with the occasional exasperated sigh. Virgil grinned as he flipped the next pancake for the stack feeling surprisingly at ease in the kitchen. The pancakes smelled great and he had only burned one so far which Remus had swallowed whole as soon as it had come off the griddle, getting an earful from Janus that was promptly shrugged off. The others would be waking up to pancakes and coffee soon and hopefully wouldn’t blink at the extra company this morning and there was barely any mess to clean up since Janus couldn’t seem to figure out hoe to sit still. It would be a good morning, he told himself. It was the holidays, it had to be a good morning.

“Good morning , Remus. Janus. Virgil.”’ Virgil squawked surprise at Logan’s entrance, having not heard him over Remus’ chatter over something or other he wasn’t inclined to pay attention to. Logan didn’t bat an eye at the extra company, simply getting out the appropriate amount of mugs and setting about making everyone’s coffee. Virgil grinned weakly as Logan turned to him, pointedly dismissing Remus dumping half a container of garlic seasoning into his mug and Janus smacking him in the back of the head for it. “Are you in need of any assistance?”

“I uh- no, I think I'm good L, thanks though.” He eyed the generous stack of pancakes on the counter. “I’ll be done with these soon so-”

“Wha-”

“Oh!”

Roamn and Patton stood still in the doorway taking in the sight of everyone already gathered around the stove, Virgil wielding the spatula defensively as he glanced around nervously. Thankfully Patton broke the silence first, grinning happily through his confusion and sitting at the table so he wouldn’t be in the way.

“I didn’t know you’d be making breakfast,this is such a nice thing to wake up to!’ Janus and Logan distributed the coffee with Roman and Remus found their seats, the latter staying surprisingly civil even as Roman eyed his twin wearily for any weapons he was almost never seen without. Virgil shrugged and placed the last pancake on the stack, turning off the griddle and placing the stealing plate in the middle of the table.

“I thought it’d be a nice change from hiding in my room all day.” He winced at his wording but no one paid it any mind, grabbing for the sweet smelling cakes before they cooled. Patton hooked an arm around his waist in a quick side hug before he sat down, making him smile and lean into Patton’s shoulder a bit before getting his own stack and smothering it in syrup.

“These are delicious Virgil!” Janus complimented warmly, his usual cool put togetherness slightly ruined with syrup smeared across his face.

“These are really good cringerbread-man, you should make breakfast more often.” Roman winked at him playfully letting him know he was only teasing and Virgul relaxed as the table dissolved into easy banter, Remus getting smacked in the face with a pancake at one point that started a small food fight between the twins, Logan leaning back slightly while reading something on his phone and showing it to Janus as a pancake narrowly avoided the side of his head. As chaotic as everything was he found himself being grateful for it as his old family and his new family came together to become one big one. As cheesy as it sounded he couldn’t be more grateful that his fourth year being accepted was turning out to be the best one yet.

Hey the pancakes are actually a recipe!

#false writes #gift fic #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #holiday fic #sanders sides fic #platonic drlamp #familial drlamp #something to say tbank you for being such a good friend #and for being so supportive ^-^#happy holidays❤💚

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adenei · 3 years

Text

Next Steps - Ch. 10 + 11

This is it! The last two chapters :) Another WIP I can call complete. I hope you enjoy!

We’ve Been Found Out

Their Caribbean holiday ended all too quickly, and all four were desperately missing the sun and the beach. Everyone was gathered at the Burrow for Sunday dinner. Harry and Ginny had decided to use disillusionment charms on their rings for the first part of the evening so they wouldn’t give Molly a heart attack before dinner.

They’d talked briefly about how they were going to break it to the family, and Harry was insistent that Ginny bring it up since the elopement was her idea. Ginny, who rarely seemed scared of anything, had told Harry there was a fat chance that would happen, so they both decided to hope that maybe Ron or Hermione would let something slip.

Ginny had packed the photo album in the bag so that her mum could at least see pictures of the day. Even though the pictures were still because it was a muggle camera, they’d turned out beautifully. The photographer clearly knew what he was doing, knowing just where to position them so they captured the sunset in the background, and they’d even popped into their dinner and the dance club later on. Ginny smiled as she reminisced.

“So, Ginny, tell us all about the trip!” Angelina said excitedly.

Ginny jumped at Angelina’s words. “What do you want to know?” She hoped she was acting cool enough, so as not to arouse any suspicion.

“What’s it like in the Bahamas? It’s hard to imagine a place that’s warm this time of year.”

“Well, it was beautiful! We laid out in the sun every day, and they kept offering these beachy, boozy drinks for free!” Ginny said as she laughed.

“Oh, I’m sure they weren’t free, dear, probably included in whatever you paid for the lodging,” her mother said brightly. “I’m glad you all had fun, though I think maybe you should take a holiday from taking holidays for a bit. Especially you two,” she pointed at Ron and Hermione. “You’ve got a wedding coming up in six months after all.” Much as Molly tried to seem like she was scolding, she couldn’t hide the excited expression on her face.

They fell into easy conversation as everyone shifted from eating dinner to enjoying coffee and pudding. Victoire was starting to get fussy, so Fleur had gotten up to go get her dummy from the bag that she’d brought. Ginny didn’t think anything of it as she tried to keep Victoire occupied in the high chair in Fleur’s absence. She’d forgotten that Hermione had gotten her, Fleur, and Angelina matching tote bags with their monograms stitched in them for Christmas gifts that year, and she’d set her own bag next to Fleur’s upon arriving.

“Bill, where eez Victoire’s dummy? I cannot find it,” Fleur said, rummaging through the bag. “And why did you pack our wedding album?” she asked curiously. Harry’s fork dropped onto his plate as Ginny froze mid-tickle with Victoire.

“I didn’t pack that, Fleur. What are you talking about?” Bill said, a confused look on his face.

“Yes, you most certainly did,” Fleur said as she grabbed the album and brought it over to the table. “Oh, wait, zis is not ours,” she said as she came more into the light with the album.

“Who would have a wedding album? Hermione, did you pick one up to fill out? It’s a bit early for that,” Mrs. Weasley said as she got up to look and see what Fleur was holding.

Ginny gave Hermione a panicked look. They weren’t ready to say anything yet. Hermione was silent, as she clearly had no idea what to say. There was no point in lying because the truth was about to be out.

Unfortunately, George happened to notice the pale, shocked expressions on both Harry and Ginny’s faces. “Hey, Gin, are you feeling alright?” he asked her in a half serious, half joking tone.

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak for her. By now, Mrs. Weasley had reached Fleur and the album was open. “Ginevra Molly Weasley,” was all her mother managed to say.

All eyes were on Ginny now, waiting for someone else to say something. It was Fleur who broke the silence. “You and ‘Arry got married?”

“You what?!” George, Bill and Percy shouted at the same time. Arthur looked between the two of them as Angelina’s hands covered her mouth. Ron and Hermione didn’t pretend to look surprised. They were in the photographs as well, so there was no point trying to feign ignorance.

Ginny pulled out her wand and undid the charms hiding her ring, and then Harry’s. “Yes, Mum, we did.” She steeled herself for the fury that was about to ensue.

“But you weren’t even engaged!” Molly and Fleur had walked over to the table now as everyone was crowding around trying to sneak glances at the pictures.

“And you two!” Molly rounded on Ron and Hermione, “You two knew!”

“Mum, don’t you dare blame them for this! It was our decision,” Ginny started, as Harry coughed. “Okay, fine, it was my idea, but you went along with it, too” Ginny glared at Harry for that.

“Er, we were engaged, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said. He’d thought it best to not call her Molly in this particular instance. “I proposed on Christmas Eve.”

“And you couldn’t have at least told us about the proposal at Christmas!?” Molly said in disbelief.

“Mum, Hermione and I had planned the trip for Harry and Ron. Harry and I were joking about an elopement, saying it’s what we’d both want because everyone knows Harry’s had enough of the limelight, and I didn’t want all the fuss I knew it’d cause! I wasn’t expecting him to propose, and then we just kind of agreed to go for it. But we made sure to get all those pictures so you could see everything!”

“My only daughter’s wedding, and we didn’t even get to be there,” Arthur said quietly. Ginny had prepared herself to be defensive against her mother’s attack, but she wasn’t prepared for the guilt from her father. Shit.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said. “We were going to tell you tonight, that’s why we brought the album.”

“We just didn’t know how,” Harry finished.

“Well, I didn’t see any rings,” Molly huffed.

Ginny held her hand up. “We hid them with a charm, Mum.” All of the women leaned in to fawn over her ring.

“Eet iz beautiful,” Fleur said as Angelina agreed.

“You looked beautiful, Ginny! Makes me want a beach wedding, too!” Angelina said, trying to break some of the tension, but instead it just placed a look of unease on George’s face, considering they were still a fairly new couple compared to the rest of the family.

And then Molly burst into tears. “My little girl is married!” She made her way around the table and hugged Ginny tightly. “And Harry, dear, you’re officially family now!”

Everyone else followed suit as they got up to congratulate the newlyweds. When Arthur had made his way to his daughter, Ginny gladly accepted his hug. “I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t think about that when we’d made the decision. I just wanted to avoid a big wedding and all the fuss.”

“It’s okay, Ginny. Ultimately, I’ll always want you to be happy, and if that’s the wedding you wanted, I’ll support it.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Ginny, Harry, can we still at least throw a party in celebration?” Molly asked them. Ginny and Harry had shared a look as they both agreed to it. They both knew deep down they wouldn’t get out of it completely.

“Maybe I’ll get that father daughter dance, after all,” Arthur said to his daughter, who smiled back at him.

“I think that can be arranged.”

**************************

The June “I Do”

Hermione woke on the morning of her wedding in the room of a quaint little bed and breakfast on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Ginny had stayed with her overnight, which Hermione was secretly thankful for. The last six months since the foursome’s Caribbean getaway had simultaneously flown by and dragged at a snail’s pace, and today it was finally Hermione’s turn to marry the love of her life.

She thought back to Harry and Ginny's New Year’s wedding. How she and Ron had shared many secret glances during the ceremony and at dinner, while Harry and Ginny were too busy being in love and just married. Hermione had had the slightest pang of jealousy at watching their nuptials, disappointed that she and Ron hadn’t thought of it first. The quiet, intimate event would have been exactly what Hermione wanted, but she’d settled for the small, close family gathering that was about to occur in just a few short hours.

The thought brought Hermione back to the present, and she looked up at the wedding gown that was hanging up on the armoire. Hermione had chosen a cap sleeve ivory ball gown that looked absolutely stunning on her. When she tried it on, both her Mum and Mrs. Weasley had burst into tears. Ginny was speechless. The bodice was intricately woven with lace and overlaid with delicate beadwork, and the tulle gown also had lace embellishments throughout. She’d been counting down the days until Ron could see her in it.

Ginny came out from the bathroom as Hermione was still lost in thought. “Happy wedding day, Hermione!”

Hermione’s face broke out into a grin. “It’s still too long before I get to see Ron again,” she sighed.

“Oh, but it’ll be so worth it! I can just imagine the look on my dear brother’s face when he sees you.”

A knock was heard at the door, and Ginny walked over to open it. Fleur, Angelina, Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger all bustled in, sharing their greetings as they began preparing the spread of breakfast items along the dresser. Hermione looked longingly out the window, pretending to see the Burrow and wishing she didn’t have to worry with all the fuss and could be curled up in Ron’s arms.

Hermione was swept up in the hustle and bustle of getting ready for the festivities later on. She watched on and laughed as everyone’s hair and makeup were done. At one point, she’d escaped into the solace of the bathroom, letting the water run under the guise of a shower, when in reality she was writing a letter to Ron. She’d just finished it as there was a tap on the bathroom window.

She opened it and let Pig in. Right on time, she thought as she detached Harry’s letter from Pig’s leg. She sealed her own and sent it off with him. She shut the water off as she opened Harry’s letter.

Hey Hermione,

How are you holding up? Ron’s doing fine, don’t worry. He’s just really anxious to see you, that’s all. I don’t have much time until he comes back, but we’ll see you soon!

Harry

Hermione chuckled as she read the short letter. He always was short when it came to letters. She tucked the letter away as she returned back to the other room, where it was finally her turn to get ready. She sat down in the chair as Angelina and Fleur tag teamed on her makeup, and the mothers tamed her hair. It was twisted into an elegant updo as soft curls framed her face. Before she knew it, it was time for her to change into her gown.

Hermione was insistent on bringing her dress into the bathroom to change into with only Ginny for help. “So,” Ginny asked as Hermione began to change out of her robe. “How’s he doing?”

“Harry says he’s fine, just anxious to see me. I feel the same,” Hermione admitted as she stepped into her dress and pulled it up.

“Well, he’s not going to know what to do when he sees you. Hermione, you are the most gorgeous bride I’ve ever seen. And in this family, there’s been a lot of brides,” Ginny laughed. Hermione turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her.

“Wow,” Hermione whispered.

“Shall we make your big debut to everyone?” Ginny asked. Hermione nodded as they opened the door and revealed the bride to the rest of the women.

There were ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ and lots of fanning at the face to prevent crying and ruined makeup as everyone gushed about what a beautiful bride Hermione was. They made their way outside to the garden where they met the photographer. Angelina, Fleur and Ginny were dressed in dark plum chiffon dresses with different necklines of their choosing. Their bouquets consisted of various shades of purple and ivory hydrangeas, with some blush pink roses tossed into the mix. They took several pictures together until Mrs. Weasley checked the name and was trying to rush everyone over to the church to get ready for the ceremony, that would be starting about twenty minutes.

Ginny took her hand and squeezed it. “Sure you don’t want to back out?” she whispered in her ear as she chuckled.

Hermione looked at her nervously. “I...Ginny, I really need a few minutes”. She looked around and noticed everyone was starting to walk back toward the church.

If Ginny was alarmed by Hermione’s words, she didn’t look it. “I’ll take care of it, you go. Hang out in the rose garden. I’ll come get you when it’s time,” Ginny said.

Hermione nodded as she turned and entered the archway surrounded by tall hedges that created a secluded area, hiding her from the rest of the women. Once inside, it looked almost like a maze, hundreds of rose bushes lined various walkways. Hermione escaped deeper and deeper into the garden. She settled in the center of the area, setting her bouquet down on the benches in the resting area.

The anxiety of the momentous moment that she was about to face ahead of her was almost too much. It was ironic, really, considering she’d fought a war and been involved in many dangerous situations growing up. But Ron was always by her side in those moments. That’s what was throwing her. Not being able to see him. If they could just have a moment before all of this she’d feel so much better.

She heard a faint pop from behind her. No...it couldn’t be. “Hermione,” she heard him say. It was almost as if it were a moment out of a fairy tale as Hermione twirled around to Ron standing there.

“Ron!” she said as she felt her body physically relax at the relief of him standing there, mere feet from her.

“You look- wow,” Ron was speechless. She thought she saw his eyes watering, and was touched by the sweetness of it all.

She didn’t care about tradition at that moment. Not one bit. Not as she walked over and threw her arms around the love of her life, who always seemed to know when she needed him. “How did you know?”

“Ginny.”

“We don’t deserve her,” Hermione said as she smiled.

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Ron laughed.

“Can’t we just get married right here? Just us?”

“What? You don’t want to commit to me in front of our closest family and friends?” Ron joked nervously.

“No, it’s not that. Of course I do. It’s just...so personal, isn’t it? There’s so much I want to say in my vows, but not in front of everyone else.”

“So let’s say them right here. Right now,” Ron suggested.

“Really?”

“Why not? The Prophet’s gotten enough of our moments. Let’s not give them this one.”

“That’s true,” Hermione contemplated as she looked into Ron’s cerulean eyes. “Every day you continue to amaze me more and more. It’s hard to believe you’re still the same eleven year old boy I met on the train. I-” Hermione chuckled at the memories that flooded her mind, “-I tried so hard to convince myself I wasn’t falling for you. But the more I tried to deny it, the more hopelessly in love with you I’d become. And then there were so many close calls and I know I picked the most mental moment to show you, but I’m glad I did. I can’t imagine my life without you. No one knows me better than you, I love the way you get under my skin, the way you know exactly what I need, the way you love me. You’re all I’ve ever needed, and I promise to love you unconditionally, through everything.”

Hermione looked at him, a soft blush on her cheeks from the admission of the summation of their relationship. She waited for him to take his turn now. “I’m not sure what’s left for there to say,” Ron chuckled. “Only kidding. You may be an insufferable know it all, Hermione, but you’re my insufferable know it all. If there’s anything I’d wish I’d done, it was get my head out of my arse and get us going sooner. I’d erase sixth year and start over. But I don’t want to dwell on the past. I was just as stubborn as you, not wanting to admit that I was head over heels for my best friend. But almost losing you, it changed everything. Looking back, I’d do it all again to get where we are now. You are the only one for me. There’s no doubt in my mind that we were made for each other. I can’t wait to start this next step of our lives together. I can’t promise I won’t be a bloody prat sometimes, but I will always love you, and I will never stop loving you. And I’ll do everything in my power to make you the happiest woman alive. Every day of my life. I love you, Hermione Granger. I can’t wait to call you my wife.”

“I love you, too, Ronald Weasley. I can’t wait to have you as my husband.” Despite herself, Hermione leaned in and kissed him. The moment was absolute perfection. If only the officiant was there to pronounce them man and wife right then and there.

“Alright, you two! Save some for the ceremony!” Harry’s voice startled them, as they looked over to see Harry and Ginny looking on in loving amusement. The photographer was also there, for who knew how long. Capturing their most intimate moments.

“Do you think you’re about ready? I reckon Mum may have realized something is up by now.”

Hermione nodded as she looked up at Ron. “Let’s go. It’s about time I became a Weasley, I think,” she said as Ron leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Then let’s get you married!” Ginny said excitedly. With that, the group of four headed for the small church in Ottery St. Catchpole.

#ROMIONE #hinny #hp fanfic

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forgadgetsandgizmos · 4 years

Text

Malex Drabble

* *

No one had seen Alex in three days.

Which, okay, he left town frequently enough for the Air Force that it could be no big deal. But ever since Alex spent a week in a basement because everyone, including Michael, thought he was at a recruitment job out of town, Alex checked in when he left. Usually with Michael. And Alex hadn’t told Michael that he was planning on leaving, much less checked in.

Michael should’ve let it go. No one else is worried, there’s no dangers around, no lingering threat that could result in Alex being missing or worse. But Michael couldn’t shake the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

And he kept circling back to Alex hadn’t told him that he was leaving.

Which is how he ended up here, standing in Alex’s driveway and staring at the old Christmas lights still dangling from the porch, trying to shake off his paranoia without invading his friend’s private space.

On second thought, that’s exactly what he did last time and he turned out to be right. He started for the door. The game plan that time around had been Find Alex, and okay, it was the same here. Whatever, it was a good plan. At least this time he knows where the spare key is kept.

Michael jogged the last couple steps up to Alex’s front door and knocked loudly. “Alex?”

No response. He stood on his toes to peer inside through the glass in the top of the door. From what he could see, none of the lights were on and no one was moving around inside.

“Alex, I’m worried about you,” he tried. He knocked on the door a few more times. “If you don’t answer, I’m coming in. He backed away to dig the key out of a bottle buried nearby. “Using the spare key,” he added. If Alex was inside, it probably wouldn’t be helpful if he thought Michael was going to telekinetically break his lock.

When he was met with more silence, Michael unlocked the door and took a hesitant step in.

“Alex?”

He made his way around the house. The kitchen held a small pile of take out bags and dirty, plastic containers. Alex was here then, and eating. That was always good, Michael acknowledged.

He walked over to Alex’s bedroom door and knocked quietly, cracking open the door as he did and poking his head inside. A blindness darkness greeted him.

Michael blinked quickly, trying to help his eyes adjust as he took in the room. Heavy, drawn curtains blocked any light from the windows. Two large, empty bottles sat on the bedside table closest to the door. It was too dark to be sure, but the thin, tall neck made Michael think it was tequila. The bed held a pile of blankets surrounding a curled up figure in the center.

Michael let out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

“Alex, it’s me. Can I come in?”

He received a faint humm in response.

Taking that as a yes, Michael slipped into the room and shut the door behind him, careful not to make any loud noises. He slowly inched closer to the bed Alex had buried himself in. He wasn’t sure what the protocol here was. Alex was physically fine; Michael could see enough to make out the movement of the blankets from Alex breathing. Strands of hair peeked out of the fuzz pile and the sunlight in the hall shined back at him from Alex’s prosthetic where it was laying on the floor near the bed.

But Alex obviously wasn’t fine. From what Michael had seen, Alex had apparently spent the past three days of avoiding his friends in bed, ordering takeout, and day-drinking. While Michael may not have much experience with avoiding worried friends, he did have a decade spent deep-diving into a bottle or three in his belt, and multiple empty maybe-tequila bottles did not equal fine.

“Alex, what’s going on,” Michael whispered. He sat on the edge of the bed with one leg still on the floor, hand hovering over Alex’s body as he waited for a response.

After a few seconds, Alex reached a hand out of his pile and pulled the blanket closest to him tightly, framing his face.

“What are you doing here,” he croaked out, eyes still closed.

“I was worried about you. You haven’t responded to me or anyone else in three days.”

“I’m fine.”

Michael caught the blanket before Alex could pull it back over his head. “I see that,” he noted dryly.

Alex huffed and opened his eyes. “I am. You can go now.”

“Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding everyone in favor of alcohol and shitty take-out.” Michael kicked off his shoes and crawled over Alex onto the bed. He leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes. “I can sit here all day.”

He opened one eye to see Alex glaring up at him. “I’ll just listen,” Michael offered.

Another huff.

Michael closed his eye again and waited. A minute or two later, he felt the mattress moving under him. He opened both eyes to see Alex sitting up beside him and offered him a smile.

Alex’s lips twitched in response and Michael felt his own widen to a grin.

Michael waited patiently beside him.

“I got a phone call,” Alex started. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor well-away from Michael as he spoke. “I loved being in my squadron. Some of the guys were family in a way I hadn’t had before, you know?”

Loved. Were. Michael stopped smiling.

“Flint and Clay always felt really distant. When I was a kid, I thought it was because they remember Mom. And I love Gregory, but we weren’t super close as kids.”

And Flint and Clay were two peas in a Jesse-spawn pod, Michael wanted to add.

“We has to be together all the time, we didn’t have a choice but to get close. There were four of us that were,” Alex tutted, searching for the word. “I don’t know. Saying brothers feels weird considering my real brothers.”

“I get it,” Michael said softly. He and Max and Isobel, they weren’t actually siblings. But Max and Iz were so important to him, to his life on Earth, and to his past, that calling them brother and sister felt inadequate. “They were real. What brothers should be.”

Alex nodded. “Besides me, it was Hunter, Jamie, and Patrick. Hunter and Jamie died in the same explosion that blew off my leg. Which. . . sucked. But Patrick was okay. He stayed with me as long as he could in the hospital in Germany. He missed their funerals to stay with me.” He took a steadying breath. “He had to ship out eventually. He was assigned a new unit and left for an eight month tour about six months ago.”

Alex looked up to meet Michael’s eyes. He schooled his face, trying to project a sense of calmness and security. He just hoped that the grief and pain and mourning he saw in Alex’s eyes wasn’t echoed in his own.

When Alex spoke again, it was so soft Michael had too strain to make out the words. “Patrick’s new unit chief called three days ago. He - he’s dead.” Alex voice shook as he choked back a sob and leaned into Michael.

Michael gripped Alex tightly and pressed his lips to his forehead. Michael didn’t - he couldn’t comfort this. He had lost a whole world. . . but he hadn’t know them. He lost his mom but, so had Alex. She might not technically be dead, but she had left when he was so young and stayed gone so long that she might as well be. The only think Michael had to compare was Isobel and Max and if he lost them. . . well. He’s sure he would be in the drunk tank in a lot worse shape than this.

“Alex,” Michael said softly, turning to press his cheek against Alex’s head, “When I was a kid, I spent years imaging what it would be like to lose Max and Isobel, either when they got sick of me and left or if they got caught and were killed. I planned out how to be alone, as much as it killed me to admit that, since that implies I wasn’t alone with them,” he chucked lowly.

Michael buried his free hand in Alex’s hair, letting the soft, dark strands run through his fingers. Alex stayed quiet. “I stopped because I met someone who was different. He treated me the same way Max and Iz did and no one had ever done that before. In my experience, people weren’t just nice for no reason. Even Max and Iz treated me like they did because they viewed me as their brother. And this guy, I could never seem to drive him away. And I certainly tried my best,” he admitted, “especially after graduation. He was the fucking sun and he made me realize that I wasn’t better than everyone else. It kinda opened up my world.”

Alex stirred at that. “Life isn’t a rom-com, Michael.”

“Okay, but it is a telenovela. I mean hello, alien from outer space here.”

Underneath him, Alex made a sound that reminded him a baby whining.

“You interrupted. There was more,” Michael chided jokingly. He gave Alex a light flick on the head. “I would still fall apart if I lost Max and Iz. That hasn’t changed. But I would want to keep on going now. Because of you. And you don’t have to get over this or be okay because of me, that’s not what I’m saying-“

“Michael.”

Michael shut up. “Sorry,” he murmured.

Alex finally moved from his half-laying down, half-sitting up position and looked at Michael. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Alex smiled sadly at him and let his hand hover over the side of Michael’s face. “Thank you.”

Michael’s eyes lightened. “Thank you,” he returned. They were words he’s been waiting to say to Alex for over a decade. Since they were seventeen and stupid in love. He owes Alex so much.

They weren’t seventeen anymore. Picking a place to make-out that wasn’t the pickup of Michael’s truck was no longer their biggest hurdle. Now, that would have to be a toss up between the giant government conspiracy, the alien-DNA-targeting-bomb, and the various murders him and his siblings were hiding.

No, they definitely weren’t seventeen anymore. But as Alex curdled back up under his blanket mound and buried himself into Michael’s side, Michael knew that, for him, that was the only thing that had changed.

#roswell new mexico #roswellnm #Malex #alex manes #michael guerin #fic #malex fic #rnm #I'm very hopeful for the season 2 finale #but this is admittingly unrealistic #ao3 #my writing #alicewrites

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ravens-words · 4 years

Text

We burned down our paper house

"Spanning years and continents. Lives ruined, bloodshed. Epic."

Scenes from a lost decade.

Chapter 4 of 4

Warnings: Angst, Brief mentions of war, Jesse Manes.

...........................

October, 2015

"Hello?"

Michael's voice was groggy when he answered and it was obvious he'd been asleep and most likely didn't check who was calling when he picked up. Alex hadn't wanted to wake him, but getting to have these calls was a rare opportunity.

"Hey, Guerin," Alex whispered, making sure to keep his voice down. His teammates were scattered all around him in the tent, each one on a call with their own families.

"Alex?" He sounded more awake now. "How are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm alright. How are you?"

Michael let out a soft laugh and Alex matched it. Why talking on the phone was so awkward given who they were to each other was beyond him. "I'm okay. Been helping Isobel with her Halloween party decorations."

Alex relaxed back into his chair, grinning. "Oh? I bet you loved that."

"Oh yeah. I love spending two hours a day being bossed around by Isobel Evans."

Alex snorted. "What else have you been up to?"

"Not much, really." He cleared his throat. "How about you? How are things over there?"

Alex didn't want to answer that question. He didn't know how. "It's nothing much."

Michael was silent on the other end, and Alex closed his eyes, wondering if he'd managed to screw up so soon into this, whatever this was.

"Guerin-"

"I miss you," he blurted out. "I don't know if you can't talk about it or just don't want to, but I just want to know you're okay. That's why I ask."

Alex sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. "I don't think I'll ever talk to you about what I'm doing here," he muttered gently. It wasn't meant to hurt him, but he wanted to make sure they were on the same page. Alex had killed people, and they weren't always bad, they weren't always evil. Sometimes this job weighed so heavily on his soul that he struggled to find a reason, a way, to keep going. He'd managed it so far, but it wasn't easy.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't ever want the way you look at me to change." He regretted the words instantly, but it was a relief to have them out in the open between them. It was a confession, a very small one that cost him more than it should've, but he knew Michael would understand the implication of it.

"Alex-"

"Tell me about your day," he requested, desperate and pleading. They had so little time, and he want to spend it discussing something he'd been running from for years now.

There was silence again, but then Michael sighed, resigned. "Okay. Well, old man Jackson's car broke again- and this makes it the third time this week, and he tried to convince me it was somehow my fault and not his crappy driving..."

Alex sat back, and listened to every word, committing his voice to memory.

Just three more years.

They could make it that long.

December, 2015

"Shit, jesus christ!"

Alex couldn't help but smile as Michael continued to curse, voice distant. He'd either put Alex on speaker or dropped his phone. "Guerin?"

"Alex, hey!" He could practically hear the grin in his voice and found himself smiling, helpless against the genuine joy he could hear in the other man's words.

"Hi," he uttered, quiet, the smile still clinging to his lips. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." There was a short, comfortable silence and it struck Alex how much this, just this; listening to Michael breathe on the other end of a call, meant to him. "I wish you were here."

Somehow, Michael, quiet and reverent, had the unbelievable ability to make the simplest things sound like holy confessions only meant for Alex and it never failed to fill him with joy and frustration in equal measures. Alex had so many things- beautiful, poetic things- to say about Michael, about his heart, his smile, his eyes. But he could never share them, kept them trapped in a leather bound notebook that had been his companion for the better part of seven years now. He desperately wanted to tell him how much he meant to him, but writing the words down had always been much more easier than saying them.

"Alex?"

"I'm here. I'm here. What are you doing for Christmas? You're not spending it alone, are you?"

"No," Michael answered quickly. Too quickly. Alex's heart sank. "I'm spending it with Max, Iz and Noah. At least Max will be there, I won't have to be a third wheel."

He was trying to sound cheerful, no doubt for his benefit, but Alex could hear how it was forced.

"Guerin," he whispered, and he heard him take a deep breath. "Don't hide from me."

Michael let out a laugh that sounded a lot like a sob. "I don't want you to- I'm okay, Alex, really."

He should have proded him more. He shouldn't have let him pretend things were okay. He should have comforted him.

Instead of doing any of that, though, Alex let him hide. "Okay," he allowed. "Tell me how you've been. I missed you."

Michael's spirit lifted and Alex, feeling like a coward, was relieved. At least he'd managed to do some good for him.

Please, let that be enough.

January, 2016

Happy New Year's, Michael. I hope this year will be a good one- AM

Happy New Year's, Alex! I miss you. Any chance you'll be coming home soon? - MG

Not for at least six months. I'm sorry -AM

It's okay. Take care of yourself and stay safe, will you? -MG

March, 2016

When Michael answered the video call, he was smiling widely.

He was also shirtless.

Alex's eyes trailed down and it took a herculean effort to get them back up. When he managed it, though, Michael, the smug bastard, was smirking. "Like what you see?"

Alex rolled his eyes and felt his face heat up. He hoped to god his blush wasn't visible. From the wiggling eyebrows and the full blown smug smile he received, his prayers went unheard.

"I can't believe I finally managed to convince you to video call," Michael proded gently.

His tone wasn't accusing, but Alex felt guilty anyway. He hadn't told his teammates anything; not about Michael, and certainly not about him being gay. It seemed that trusting them with his life was a lot easier than trusting them with that part of himself.

There had been so many moments where he wanted to say it, to just put it out there and see what happened. But he always backed out last minute, instinct, old doubts and fears uniting and insuring his silence.

"Hey," Michael frowned, coming closer to the screen, as if the movement would bring them any closer. "Where'd you go?"

Alex smiled. "I'm here. Sorry, I zoned out."

"That's okay. Bad day?"

He shook his head. "A long one."

Michael hummed sympathetically. "Wanna talk about it?"

Alex shook his head. "Not really."

"Alright," he backed off immediately.

"You cut your hair," he found himself saying, just now noticing.

"Isobel made me," he grumpled, running a hand through the short curls. An ache, a need, to touch him, to be there beside him, threatened to overwhelm Alex and he found himself blinking back tears. "You like it?"

"Yeah," he breathed out.

Michael squinted, then his face softened. "Hey, what's going on?"

No, Alex wanted to say. I miss you. I want this to be over. I want to be there with you.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He tried to smile. "And- it looks good. You look good."

He was rewarded with a beaming smile.

April, 2016

"Happy birthday!" Alex cheered the minute Michael picked up.

"Hey, you." Michael laughed softly. "Thanks."

"Sorry I couldn't call you on your actual birthday."

"That's okay."

Alex frowned. "Hey, are you sure you're alright?"

"I am now that we're talking. It's been a while since we talked."

"I know. I'm sorry. Things have picked up here, I've barely slept in days."

"Are you safe?" He sounded scared, and Alex cursed himself for worrying him.

"I'm in a war zone, Guerin." The words were harsher than he intended and he closed his eyes the minute the words left his mouth, knowing he'd managed to make things worse. "I'm sorry," he blurted out when the silence became too much. "I just- I hate this. I wish I could be there."

"Yeah," Michael said, voice tight with either anger or resentment. Probably both. Or maybe something else entirely that Alex couldn't grasp. "Why won't you talk to me?"

"I talk to you whenever I can. I told you, it's-"

"Don't play dumb, Alex. You know what I mean."

"No," he argued. "I don't. I talk to you, Guerin."

"Not about anything that matters," he snapped. "Not about what's been going on with you. You think I don't see how tired you are? You think I don't hear how miserable you are? You think I don't-"

"I told you before, I don't want to talk about this, any of it," he told him, voice cold and devoid of emotions.

"Alex-"

"If this is how the call is going to be, I'm hanging up," he threatened and he hated it. He absolutely hated it. But he was desperate enough to fight dirty. Desperate enough to keep Michael separate from the hell he was in to use every weapon in his arsenal.

"Okay," Michael said, and the words cut a knife through his chest. He sounded resigned and bitter and Alex hated himself for causing that.

"Captain Manes!"

Alex closed his eyes and cursed silently. "I've gotta go."

"Yeah."

"I'l talk to you later?"

He let out a wary sigh. "Yeah."

.....

May, 2016

"Can I tell Isobel about us?"

The smile on Alex's face dropped and he swallowed thickly. "Guerin-"

He seemed to get what Alex was trying to say and made a noise that was halfway between a sigh and a scoff. "Forget it, that was stupid of me." Alex's blood ran cold, but he managed to keep his cool and ignore the bitterness that seemed to color the other man's words. There seemed to be a lot of that since their talk three weeks ago.

"Listen, I just don't want-"

"I get it," he snapped and Alex closed his mouth. "You don't want anyone to know."

"Guerin, I don't want him to know. That's why I don't want to tell anybody."

Trying to reason with a pissed off Michael proved to be a more difficult task than Alex anticipated and he was quickly running out of patience.

"Did you tell your teammates? About us?"

Alex's silence was enough answer and Michael laughed. "Of course you didn't. And it's not because of your dad, Alex. It's because you don't want anybody to know you're with me."

"That's not why and you know it!"

"No, I don't,"

All his father's beatings combined hurt less than the wounded tone of Michael's voice, and it only served to solidify Alex's belief that being with him hurt Michael. And he was smart enough to know a relationship wasn't supposed to be like that. Being with someone wasn't supposed to make you miserable all the time.

"You know, I can count the people I care about in that town on one hand and I'd have fingers to spare," he told him quietly.

Michael sighed tiredly. "I know."

"I only ever came back for you. Just you."

Michael was silent on the other end, but the breath that rushed out of him at Alex's words was very telling.

"I'm sorry," Alex muttered, trusting that Michael would understand why he was apologizing.

"It's okay."

It wasn't, not by a long shot, but Alex wasn't quite ready to face that particular truth yet. Instead, he smiled and decided to extend a peace offering of a sort.

"I think I might be able to come home next month."

"What?!" There was a little excitement creeping into his voice and Alex was relieved. "Seriously?"

"It's not set in stone, but- yeah, I think I'm coming back in a month or so."

"Good," Michael breathed out. "That's good."

.....

June, 2016

Alex sat down on his bed heavily and stared at the wall, ears ringing and unable to think, unable to breathe. He was supposed to be resting, but he doubted he would be able to sleep for a long time.

He moved to lay down when something solid dug in his hip. When his hands closed in on the sat. phone, a sticky note attached to it, he froze. He turned on the light and, with the room dimly lit, was able to read the note.

Today was fucking hard, cap. If you won't talk to us, then at least talk to someone. It was written in Bradley's careful handwriting and Alex closed his eyes, lest the tears that had been building up spilt out. He didn't know about Michael, no one did, but he could tell his teammates knew he had someone. He'd never denied it, but he'd never come out and said it. He was grateful to know that he didn't have to.

He absentmindedly played with the phone, and allowed himself only a few seconds to think of all the reasons he shouldn't talk to Michael after the day he'd had.

In the end, his need to hear Michael's voice won over any logical reasoning and he found himself dialing the number he'd memorized by heart. It rang five times before he answered.

"Alex?" Michael shouted over the sound of music, voice light and easy in a way it hadn't been in a while. Alex's heart sank when he realized that he hadn't heard Michael sound happy in months.

And that was on him.

He let out a shaky breath and answered. "Hey. This is a bad time, I'll-"

"No! No, hang on." Seconds later, there was the sound of a heavy thud, a door closed, and Michael's voice was back, much clearer. "Hey, I'm glad you called. I missed you."

"Yeah, you too," Alex managed to say, a lump in his throat.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"No," he admitted, "I'm not."

Michael was probably shocked into silence, having not expected an honest answer. "What happened?"

"I'm just tired." He took in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. "Will you talk to me?"

"About what?" Michael asked gently.

"Anything." I just want to hear your voice instead of their screams, he wanted to say but didn't.

So, he listened to Michael talk about his day, about Isobel and Max and a car repair job he'd done that had impressed Sanders enough that he'd actually said the words 'good job, kid' out loud. And, miraculously, little by little, he felt a sort of peace wash over him, and the pain of what had happened today lessened to a somewhat bearable level. It was a heavy burden that would be there forever, but talking to Michael made that burden easier to carry.

"Thank you," he interrupted him, voice quiet.

Michael laughed softly. "What for?"

For being the one good thing in my life right now. For keeping me sane. "For being you," he smiled.

Michael snickered. "Well, that's the first time anybody ever thanked me for that."

Alex found himself laughing with him, and the knot in his chest loosened.

July, 2016

Alex was beyond exhausted, beyond angry and desperate for this; the war and the killing and the endless cycle of nearly identical days, to be over. He'd been hopeful a week earlier, thinking he might be able to go see Michael, but his leave had been rejected, on account of his team being needed here. Michael hadn't been happy about it and though this had happened before, this time had felt different. They'd had a fight about it, and Alex hadn't heard from him in about a week.

Truth be told, Alex dreaded their next conversation so much that it was almost a relief when he called and Michael didn't pick up. Alex felt that there were cracks forming in this thing between them, probably due to how much they both left unsaid and the long distance between them probably wasn't helping. Sometimes, he felt like he was holding Michael back, making him miserable instead of happy, and wondered if maybe he needed to let him go. He could never say it outright, too scared of losing him, but he'd contemplated it.

When he called him, Michael answered on the second ring.

"Alex!"

And he was well on his way to getting well and truly drunk from the sound of it.

"Are you drunk? Guerin, Where are you?"

"I'm not drunk, Alex," he told him moodily. And Alex realized that no, Michael wasn't drunk, he just sounded happy. How messed up was it that he hadn't recognize his happiness and mistook it for drunkenness? "Noah threw a surprise party for Iz. It's their anniversary," he explained, words wistful, bitterness forgotten.

Alex bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. That was never going to be them, was it?

"What the hell, Alex?" Though his words were whispered, there was a cold fury in them that made his heart sink. "Are you serious?"

He said nothing. He hadn't meant to say the words out loud, but a part of him was relieved he had. This conversation was a long time coming.

Michael wanted a family. He'd never said it, but Alex could tell. He wanted to be with him, wanted everything with him, and though the feeling was mutual, Alex didn't see it happening for a long time, if ever. Not when Alex felt paralyzed any time he tried to tell his teammates about his relationship. Not when the mere idea of anybody finding out and word reaching his father sent him into a spiral that, more often than not, ended with him having a panic attack.

"It's true," he whispered, digging the knife deeper. "You were right, Guerin. I didn't tell anyone about us. I don't think I'll be able to any time soon."

"Alex-"

"Stop," he snapped, heart thumping wildly. A part of him recognized that he should cut the conversation short and talk to Michael later. When he wasn't feeling so raw; when he could look down at his hands and not see blood on them; when he could close his eyes and see something other than fire and hear something other than the screams of a hundred innocent people. "I'm not coming home, Guerin. Not for a while. And- this isn't working."

Michael cursed viciously, and the sound of something breaking reached his ears, but Alex was calm in a way that scared him. He knew what that calm meant; knew, deep down in his bones, that this was going to be the last conversation they were going to have for a long time.

If he was capable of feeling anything at the moment, Alex thought he might have felt sorrow.

"Alex, please talk to me. You don't- we're fine. We- what do you mean it's not working?"

He hated how desperate Michael sounded, how scared.

I did that. I did that to him.

"We should stop this," he informed him, and even to him the words sounded almost robotic.

"Alex, what-?"

Michael sounded confused and Alex didn't blame him.

"You can't tell me you haven't thought about it, Michael. We're- this thing between us, it wasn't going to last. It's not- all we do lately is fight, aren't you tired of it?"

He wasn't trying to be cruel, but he sure sounded like it.

"Of course I'm fucking tired of fighting with you, Alex! And it's not working because you won't talk to me. I've tried to get you to so many times but you're like a freaking brick wall," he hissed, then laughed hysterically. "I can tell you're off. I can tell you're hiding something. I can tell that you're in pain right now, but if I asked, would you tell me what happened?"

Alex was in pain, he was in so much pain that even his damn teeth ached, and he was tired. Maybe that was why he did the thing he'd vowed to never do and found himself telling Michael everything he'd been trying to keep hidden.

"I kill people for a living," Alex told him, cold and furious. Later, he was sure he was going to regret this, but for now, that didn't matter. "I've killed so many people; fathers, brothers, sons, husbands, d-" he cut himself off and breathed heavily, chest tightening. "I've got so much blood on my hands, and it feels like no matter what I do, I'm never going to be able to wipe it off."

There was a sharp intake of breath and a chocked sound that Alex couldn't identify over the sound of his pounding heart.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" He demanded.

"Alex," all the fight had drained out of him, and the only thing left in his voice was sorrow.

Alex hated it.

"Tell me," he demanded, "is that what you wanted me to tell you? That I'm-"

"Stop," Michael begged. "Just stop."

He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Guerin."

Michael said nothing, probably because he'd understood that Alex was apologizing for more than this conversation. Then he let out a sharp breath. "So, this is it, huh?"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that!"

He did. He didn't say anything at all; just listened to Michael breathe heavily and wondered how he could breathe at all when Alex felt like he was drowning.

"Is this really it?" He sounded small, and scared.

Alex remained silent. He closed his eyes and listened to him breathe.

"Fuck you, Alex." Michael raised his voice. He wasn't screaming, but it was close enough. "Did you ever even want this? From the minute you left, you've been- You won't tell me anything. We spent whatever time we had talking about stupid shit and you never let me in. You won't tell anyone about us because you're scared, but have you wondered how I feel, Alex?" He didn't have an answer for him and Michael didn't wait for one. "I'm terrified every day of something happening to you, every single day, and you know what the bitch of it is? If something does happen, half the town will know before I do and that's because no one would even think to tell me. And there's no one I can talk to about this because you don't want anybody to know. I sucked it up. For seven months, for even longer than that, I sucked it up and I didn't push, though god knows I wanted to. And now, just like that, you decide to end it?" When Alex didn't answer, Michael snapped. "Fucking say something, Alex."

"It's over. I'm sorry."

"Fuck you, Alex." In perfect contrast to the words, he sounded heartbroken, defeated.

For a brief instance, he wanted to take it all back and beg Michael to forget every word he'd said. But then the dile tone reached his ears and admist the heartbreak and shock, there was a sense of relief. It was short-lived, however, and soon, he found himself hunched forward, his hands tangled in his hair and his world was falling apart around him. He decided to give himself one minute. One minute to fall apart, to rage and cry and regret all the choices he'd made that had landed him here. Then, he did what he did best and gathered all those emotions, put them into neat little boxes and buried them in the deepest corners of his mind.

Michael had been a lifeline of a sort in these past few months, he'd helped more than he knew, and now that he was without that lifeline, Alex wondered how long it would take for him to stop drowning.

Continue on AO3

@benkouji726 tagging you because it won't show up in the tags and you (for some reason, lol) actually like this fic and have been waiting for this chapter (I hope you like it???)

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haloud · 4 years

Text

my heart stops when you look at me

An au where Michael is a student at UNM and Alex is a musician just starting his career. They meet at a bar doing a live music night, and they catch each other’s eye across a crowded room...

-- ao3 --

Michael plants his notebook right over his face to block out the sun. Just for a second. If he closes his eyes, he wouldn’t be the only exhausted student passed out on the lawn after one too many pre-exam all-nighters this week. And the paper is so nice and cool against his cheeks…

“Guerin!”

He startles and smacks the notebook off his face. Matt is in three of his six classes, one of them the long-ass lab that is both Michael’s favorite part of the week and an exercise in restraint. He’s a good guy. A good guy with a really loud voice.

“Hi, Michael,” Erin says, looking down at him with furrowed eyebrows. She’s a junior and was Michael’s orientation leader. They’re sort of friends? He helped her fix her car when it was raining and she was stuck on campus at night, and she payed him fifty bucks for it. ‘You take what you get with first semester friends,’ Isobel says sagely, like she’s not also a first semester freshman, and like she hasn’t made a million friends already.

Ugh, that’s not fair. Isobel misses him and Max fiercely. At least as much as Michael misses her. At least there will be time to visit over the holiday—even if it’s forced time, since the dorms are closing and Michael has nowhere else to go.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Michael sits up and brushes grass out of his hair, even though it’s finals week so it’s totally acceptable if he looks like he crawled out of a bush at any given moment.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Erin asks.

“Just more of this.” Michael wiggles his notebook at her. “I have Jayaraman next semester too, so I want to make a good impression on the final.”

“Do you think you could maybe take one teeny, tiny night off?” Matt wheedles.

“Uh…”

“It’s Friday,” Erin cuts in, “And finals don’t start until next Thursday. You’ve totally got time to come downtown with us.”

“Take us downtown, she means. Her car is busted again.”

“You could have said something; I’d have fixed it.”

“It only happened, like, the other day, and we’ve all been busy. Anyway, there’s this great bar that’s having a music night, and I really want to go. I think you’d like it! You have great taste in music, Michael.”

“Uh…thanks?”

“You’re welcome! So you’re in?”

“Sure,” Michael says weakly, wishing he was saying anything else. New, crowded places with people he doesn’t know all that well. Sounds like a great and not at all stressful start to the weekend.

--------

This is the first time Michael has set foot in any of the bars around campus, and it turns out it looks like…every other bar Michael’s ever been in, only with more red and silver around the place.

“This is the best of them for live music,” Erin says as the bouncer digs his stamp into the back of Michael’s hand, printing him with a huge, wet X.

“Is anyone good playing? Or even anyone you’ve heard before?” Michael mostly wants to know how wasted his night is about to be. He has a spare notebook and his textbook shoved under his arm, but with the noise and the people…he’ll be so distracted not much will get done anyway. But, hey, friendship and all that. Friendship and a little light kidnapping, maybe.

“A couple of decent cover bands, some locals. But we’re here for one group in particular—there’s this guy out of Roswell, actually—”

“Oh my god,” Matt cuts in, “Did you drag us here to make us listen to a guy with a guitar sing about alien abductions.”

Matt is just as guilty of the dragging, Michael doesn’t point out.

“I said he’s from Roswell, don’t be a dick. And he’s not just a guy with a guitar, he’s part of a group and they’re really good, but his voice is amazing.”

Matt and Erin bicker good-naturedly all the way inside. The music already playing when they walk in is…fine. Better than the stuff Michael plays on the guitar Max gave him last Christmas, anyway, not that Michael lets being bad stop him from loving the music. But it’s still loud, still crowded, still a distraction he doesn’t need dropped in his lap by people he doesn’t really know

Michael hangs back, letting the others go ahead of him to get swallowed up by the crowd pushing against the low stage. Erin pauses for just a second, eyebrows raised in concern; she hooks her thumb toward the crush of people, asking if he’s coming, and Michael shakes his head, waving his notebook in response. He sticks to the edge of the crowd for a little bit; he edges toward the bar and gets a bottle of soda, just for something to do. Then, finally, someone stumbles out of one of the booths along the wall, and Michael darts for it before it can get claimed again. When he looks back, Erin and Matt are gone. He sighs, forcing his shoulders down. He drove, so it’s not like they can leave him stranded, and they’re together and have been here before, so they’re more fine than he is. And he’s fine.

A little bored, though, as setup ends and the next guy takes the stage and starts plucking out a moody ballad. Michael digs the point of his pen into a page, idly working it back and forth until the paper starts to tear under the soggy weight of ink and pressure. There’s not a formula he’s written down in these notes he doesn’t already have memorized by now, but still somehow it feels like sitting here surrounded by distractions is playing with fire. Or with failure, rather, and then probation, and then expulsion, and then he’s lost, well, everything. He fumbles his phone out of his pocket to check the time, runs through the time zone calculations in his mind. Isobel is states away, Max an entire ocean, but he could probably still call one of them just so they can jerk him out of his catastrophizing. But wouldn’t that be overreacting in itself? It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s going to pass the exam no matter what, or that one exam doesn’t define him (the Isobel answer vs. the Max answer). He punches through to the next page. On stage, moody ballad guy says a quick thank you to a lukewarm crowd and exits stage left.

Two women take over the stage next. They pull Michael’s eye, the lights off their dark hair, the easy way they move around each other, so comfortable on stage Michael wonders if maybe they play here regularly. They dance around each other, weave around the wires, except when they collide on purpose, elbows into ribs, hips into hips, laughing and shoving past the other. They get set up, guitars and keyboards and all mic’d up, then one of the women comes up to the main mic, so close to smearing her poppy-red lipstick.

“Well, we’re supposed to be getting started, but somebody is running a little bit late.”

“If anyone make an alien abduction joke, we’ll get you thrown out,” the other woman crows from behind the keyboard.

This must be the group from Roswell, then, the whole reason Erin wanted to come in the first place. Michael flips his notebook closed to focus, then opens it again, then closes it when the woman abandons the mic to lean over the other side of the keyboard and talk in close with the other, then opens it again when he realizes he’s staring. He scruffs his hand through the back of his hair and hunches over his notes, as if he can duck from the hum of anticipation running through the crowd.

A hum that only gets louder and feverish when there’s a clatter behind the stage, and a guy, breathless and flushed from being outside, bounds up onto the stage to join the other two members of the band. A bit of a cheer comes up from the audience as he grabs one of the guitars, and he swings his head around to acknowledge them, teeth white and flashing in his grin as he raises a hand, stage lights playing off the subtle muscle in his arm, and Michael’s staring again, hand wandering to his mouth, picking at a chapped spot on his lip.

“Sorry about that,” the guy laughs into the mic. “You guys ready to get going?”

The cheer goes up again, louder this time. They start to play, but Michael--Michael’s gone way past distraction and into full on not paying attention on anything but, foot rattling on the sticky floor, eyes fixed magnetically on the guy at the front of the stage.

The singer has a little scar right over his eyebrow. Michael bites his thumb to make it stop tingling from want to reach out and follow the line down to his eye. He wants to touch him all over, really, wants to cup his face and feel his cheekbones under his thumbs and feel the softness of his dark hair on his fingertips, but it’s that little scar that calls to him most, calls for his fingers and his lips, and Michael bites down harder as another pulse of wanting goes through him.

“Brand new city, no more excuses,” had been Isobel’s mantra for months before any of them left, Iz and Michael to school and Max for his long-awaited road trip. But so far for Michael it hasn’t been much of either. He’s barely seen the city, and he’s been pretty comfortable in his, well, not comfortable but familiar, old excuses.

What’s an excuse, again? He thinks as the man on the stage smiles down at his guitar, eyes closed like he’s in bliss, ink-black eyelashes fanned out across those cheekbones.

Here’s one: Michael’s still never kissed a guy, no matter how sexually free television has reassured him college is supposed to be. This guy, no matter how much he makes all of Michael’s atoms sit up and take notice, no matter how his deep, smooth voice makes the hair on the back of Michael’s neck stand up and his breath catch in his lungs, there’s no guarantee he’s even into guys. And if he is he’s probably got guys lining up and he’s probably confident and experienced and if Michael came up to him after his set and tried to charm him he probably could but then if the singer wants him he’ll have to show his cards and just embarrass himself when the singer can definitely do better.

Better to languish in lonely anonymity with only his PHYS204 notes to keep him warm at night. It’s just better this way.

The slow song finishes, and the man starts in on something faster, something some people in the bar seem to recognize, as a cheer goes up around the stage.

“Yeah?” The man calls over the noise, a blinding grin spreading across his face as the crowd calls back an answer. The girl on bass whoops wildly along with the crowd, pouring more electric energy on top. Even Michael gets goosebumps all up and down his arms. The singer plays the song’s intro a second time with that brilliant smile making the music even better to Michael’s ears, so much so that he considers for a split second abandoning his notes and pressing into the crowd, pushing through bodies until he’s right up front, so the singer would look at him, see him, notice him even for just a split second before he moves on to the next city.

But he stays where he is, ass planted in the booth and feet cemented to the sticky floor, and he chomps on the end of his pen because he ran out of un-bitten parts of his thumb. There are a few people here that know this song well enough to sing along to the chorus, but Michael can’t even focus long enough to hear a single word, too busy watching the way the singer’s lips shape them, the way they shine under the lights like maybe they’re covered in a hint of gloss, and Michael wiggles his pen between his teeth wondering what it might taste like…

This song comes to an end too, and Michael sucks in a deep, slow breath as the singer wraps those lips around the neck of a water bottle and takes several deep gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing, showcasing that long, slender neck. Michael nearly spits his pen across the table as he fumbles to take a matching gulp of his soda, just so his mouth makes the same shape as the singer’s.

And then.

For a moment, just for a moment, and—Michael has to be imagining things, because there aren’t any lights pointing his way, isn’t anything, he must just be scanning the crowd but—for a second, he’s chewing his lip and watching elegant musician’s fingers screw the top back on a bottle, then the very next second he’s looking up and the singer is looking back at him. Michael’s breath freezes in his lungs. He can almost, almost still hear the last reverberating note of their last song, curled up and humming inside of his ribcage.

The moment snaps like an overstressed string a second later when one of his bandmates taps him on the shoulder and he looks around and laughs that gorgeous laugh and Michael melts into a puddle on the tabletop, his brain screaming in his ears.

“One more, then we have to step aside and give someone else a turn,” the singer says into the mic. Michael hears it muffled through his arms over his ears. He sits up so he can watch all through their last song. He’d close his eyes and let the music wash over him, but he wants to drink in the sight of the singer for as long as he possibly can, so he does, transfixed by the way his hands curve around the neck of his guitar, around the mic stand, the way his eyelashes shadow his cheekbones when he looks down, the way his eyes catch the light when he looks up and out across the crowd. For a breathless second, Michael thinks they make eye contact again, and then the second is gone.

The crowd cheers enthusiastically when the song ends, the three musicians thank them, and go to leave the stage. Michael exhales like it’s the first time he’s breathing all night.

The next act is a woman playing something quiet and mellow, and Michael sighs and curls his shoulders in, flipping open his textbook for the first time since that band took the stage. He likes studying, he does, but he likes it a little less in stark contrast to the magic that was sparking through him when that singer was at the mic.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” A slightly hoarse voice says.

Michael flips another page and doesn’t look up. “Uhh…no?”

He’s had it too good for too long, apparently. Fair enough, though; this place is packed. Anyway, maybe now that the Roswell group is done, Michael can go find Matt and Erin and get out of here. The guy slides into the other side of the booth, and, sighing, Michael flips his textbook and notes closed and goes to stand.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Look, man—” Then Michael chokes on his own spit as he finally looks up and sees who he’s talking to.

It’s him. Smudged eyeliner, dark hair glittering with sweat, skintight black t-shirt clinging to every curve and contour of his chest, that little scar on his eyebrow—Michael drops back down onto the seat and rocks back, not sure why he’s here, not sure what he wants, just not sure—

“I don’t want to keep you here,” the singer says, head tilted, almost apologetic as he pulls his hands toward himself, off the table, away from Michael. “But I saw you, and—I don’t know, thought we might get to know each other.”

“Uh, ok, yeah.” Michael bites down on his tongue, trying not to babble. “Um. You guys were really great. My first time hearing you, but yeah. I really love music, and you guys—yeah.”

Okay. Not smooth. But at least he hasn’t hit himself with anything yet, so he’s doing better than Max whenever he’s got a crush.

“Really? Thanks.” His face lights up in a broad smile. Michael’s heart thumps pitifully. The guy says, “Maria, Rosa, and I—” he points to the bar where the two women he was on stage with are sitting, naming them both, “haven’t been playing together long, but it’s still been a dream come true. I’m Alex, by the way.”

He holds out his hand. Michael swallows.

“Michael,” he says, and shakes his hand.

Goosebumps prickle up his arm to his shoulder at the warm brush of his hand, at the feeling of guitar callouses on his palm, at the shivering electric of the two of them touching for the first time. Michael’s hand is slightly clammy, but that’s okay, because Alex’s is too.

“So do you go to school here?” Alex asks, leaning forward.

“Um, yeah. Freshman. Although you could probably guess, considering I’m like the only one here with the mark of doom.” Michael waves his hand with its faded black X. Oh yeah, super cool, way to go, Mikey. Just broadcast to the world that you’re too young to drink and guys who make music and wear eyeliner will just come lining up to beat your door down.

“You’re definitely not the only one. I’d have one too if I wasn’t playing. As it is, the bartenders just know not to serve me anything that isn’t virgin.” He bats those long eyelashes. Michael wants to crawl under the table, half to hide, half to put his head on his knee.

“Are you guys touring?” Michael asks, poking himself in the lip with the gnawed end of his pen rather than spitting up his other question: Will you be in town long? Can I see you again?

“If you count pounding New Mexico pavement as touring,” Alex says with a self-deprecating laugh. “Maria’s family has owned a bar in our hometown for, like, ever, and her mom gets us some gigs through the grapevine. We’ve got a few more things lined up for the next few weeks, but nothing super exciting or anything.”

“Touring or not, you’ve probably got cooler places to be than I do,” Michael says, forcing a flicker of a smile, “my dorm room doesn’t even, like, have any posters in it. Not that cinder brick isn’t industrial chic or something—my sister likes to joke that—oh my god I’m babbling so badly, please put me out of my misery.” Michael’s face is burning with embarrassment, so hot that there’s probably like no way the cute guy can’t tell even through the dim ambiance of the bar.

And this guy—Alex—just smiles that enigmatic little smile (Max would call it a Mona Lisa smile, and oh my god if he’s starting to think like Max this must be serious) and taps his index finger against his lip.

“I might be able to fix your poster problem, or at least contribute to the cause,” he says. “Unless you think it’s just way too arrogant. Although maybe arrogance can be part of my rock star mystique. Does it work on me?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, in a way that ought to be a little silly but actually just makes Michael take another desperate chug of his soda to avoid babbling even more. The little scar moves with his eyebrows and Michael wants so badly to kiss it. To kiss him. Like he’s never wanted to kiss a guy before, not even Danny Giordano who sat next to him in first period and wore v-neck shirts and made him realize for the first time that he even liked guys. Nothing has ever come close to the way this man’s fingers look all long and strong on his guitar and oh my god is he making this weird he’s definitely making this weird.

“Hey,” Alex says, and he reaches out to grab Michael’s wrist before he can sink his teeth into his thumb again. He slides his thumb tenderly across the thin skin of Michael’s wrist, and holy shit he’s going to pass out.

Alex says, “Hey, it’s okay. Are you feeling okay? Are you here with anyone—”

“No, I’m fine—” Michael says, miserable, face bright red.

Even though he basically has to be wearing makeup to make his face look that perfect and smooth, Alex’s cheeks go a little bit pink too. “Um, right. Uh—posters! I can give you one. For the band. If you want it? I mean, not that you were just here for us or anything—I can ask another group if you’d prefer—”

“No! I want you. I mean, uh. Your band. ‘S poster. Would you sign it?”

“Would you want me to?”

“Please,” Michael breathes pitifully. But then he remembers that he’s chewed his pen into a gross nub of its former self and almost whimpers with disappointment.

Alex doesn’t disappoint, though. He gets up for just a second—Michael watches his back as he makes his way across the room, watches the heavy rise and fall of his boots and the sway of his shoulders and the way his ass looks in those painted-on jeans—to talk to one of the girls he was on stage with, the one who played the keys and Alex pointed out as Maria earlier. They talk for a bit; Maria even glances Michael’s way, a knowing smirk on her face, and Michael’s face catches on fire. He’s out of soda, so he doesn’t even have anything to drown himself with.

Maria turns back to Alex and laughs, and Michael squirms, digging his finger into a split seam in the seat’s upholstery. Are they talking about him? Okay, it’s probably sort of funny to Alex’s friends, yeah, that some scruffy college student is trying to talk to him, trying to…flirt? But that doesn’t mean it feels funny to Michael, whose heart is still fluttering, high on adrenaline, on the chance that Alex might come back to talk with him some more. Whatever it is Alex wants—to promote his band, sure, whatever, he’ll send Isobel their mixtape tonight—to hook up, maybe? Michael’s down for that too, even if it sucks to know that’s all he’d ever be. Fuck. Don’t come on too strong. There’s almost zero chance Alex is looking for a groupie. Get your shit together, Guerin, before he comes back.

Rosa shoves Alex’s shoulders and, still laughing, Alex goes along with it, letting her propel him a couple steps across the floor and back toward Michael. Michael’s hands flutter, searching for something new to fiddle with and finding nothing, and he shoves them into his hoodie pockets before Alex gets too close. With that gorgeous smile, and his eyes all sparkling and crinkled at the corners.

“Sorry that took so long,” Alex says, sliding back into the booth. “Apparently to get a Sharpie from my friends you have to answer three riddles or something.”

Michael lets out a breathy sigh and, like, he’d deny it, but his eyelashes flutter when Alex bounces forward to lean on his elbows, bringing himself closer to Michael, as close as they can be with the table still separating them.

“Oh, no worries,” Michael replies, and he could punch the air in triumph when his voice comes out smooth and normal, “I’ve just been sitting here waiting for you to finish your quest and come back to rescue me.”

There. Is that flirty enough? Is he being obvious enough? Michael doesn’t know how to flirt with guys or how to tell if guys are flirting with him. He still doesn’t know why Alex came over here in the first place.

“No prince would keep you waiting for too long,” Alex responds, his dark eyes glittering, one lid dropping in a slow, teasing wink. Before Michael can figure out a suitably smooth response, Alex uncaps his marker and unrolls the poster he brought with him just enough to scrawl a dramatic signature across it, alongside his bandmates’ names that must have been added while he was talking to them.

They’d been so beautiful looking, together, laughing and teasing each other and having fun. Alex clearly has friends. What does he need Michael for? In high school if he got approached it was usually by girls who knew he was kind of easy, but he doesn’t want Alex to think of him like that—and he shouldn’t, right? Unless Michael just kind of gives off that desperate vibe? Not that he isn’t desperate, mind you, for any sliver of Alex’s attention he can get; not that he isn’t scanning the crowd for Erin and Matt and hoping he doesn’t see them so they can spend more time together until Alex decides to leave.

“Everything okay?” Alex asks for the second time that night. Michael looks up at him and his head is tilted again, dramatic brows furrowed. Slowly, like he’s reaching out to a new animal, he reaches across the table to touch Michael’s wrist, eyes on his face waiting for Michael to tell him no, but Michael lets him, and relishes the goosebumps climbing up his arms again.

Michael clears his throat, knowing this time he basically has to answer. “Yeah,” he says, “It’s just…why are you being so nice to me? You probably have lots of people who’d work way harder for your autograph.”

Alex blinks at that. Then a little smile curves his lips and he says, “Our eyes met across a crowded room. Isn’t that a good reason?”

“Maybe. But, usually,” Michael slips his thumbnail under the label on his soda bottle, “Usually, people tend to have an ulterior motive for being nice to strangers.”

“Really?”

Alex pulls him forward, then, hard enough for Michael to wince when his ribs knock against the tabletop, and Alex rucks his sleeve up, and then the cold, wet tip of the marker is stroking on his skin, and when Alex lets him go there are ten digits scrawled across his forearm.

“Give me a call, then we won’t be strangers anymore,” he says, eyebrows raised, lip caught between his teeth.

Michael just—Michael gapes at him, eyes wide and lost for words, until he’s called by Rosa and Maria and gets up to leave, and Michael reaches out for him on instinct, catches him by the hand.

“I will,” he says, “I’ll call you. I definitely will. Um. Talk to you later?”

“Can’t wait,” Alex breathes, squeezes Michael’s hand, then disappears into the crowd.

#rnmnwafweekend2019 #malex #i love themmmmmm theyre babies

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crushedbyhyperbole · 4 years

Text

Promises - Chapter Six

Chapter Summary: Rules and red tape. Bucky and Izzy make the agreement that will redefine their friendship from then on out. Bucky thinks this is singularly the best and the worst idea he’s ever agreed to. It’s not like there’s a chance something will go wrong further down the line, right? Right?

A/N: Ok so I toyed with abbreviated text speak for the [text messages] but it annoys me so much I can’t bring myself to put it in there, authenticity be damned. Yes, I’m anally retentive, it IS a big problem, and no, I’m not currently seeking help ;)

I’m just going to apologise that this chapter is mainly dialogue, and probably not all that good dialogue either, but it sets everything up for Bucky and Izzy’s friends with benefits relationship. The next couple of chapters after this are going to be smut central so you have been warned.

Warnings: Tiny bit of angst - Bucky is feeling the stress. Mostly just fluff and talking.

PROMISES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | MOBILE MASTERLIST

Belated Prologue Part Five - The Rules

At a little after lunch time the next day, Bucky’s phone buzzed to life.

[Izzy] Morning Buckinator! This is your next morning sobriety text! X

So much for her forgetting, he thought ruefully. I guess I’m really gonna have to consider the options, now. Fuck!

[Buck] Good morning. You feeling rough? x

[Izzy] I feel like I licked the inside of a trash can. What did you give me to drink? Booty juice? X

[Buck] Hey, you asked for it x

[Izzy] I remember asking for something else too… so how about it? ;)

Euphoria. Fear. Anticipation. Dread. He felt them all and more each time he thought about the predicament that Izzy was putting him in. He made a promise to himself that he’d keep his feelings under wraps, and do whatever he could to keep her in his life. She was offering him something that he never thought he’d ever have but it was only half of what he wanted and it could ruin them if things went badly.

Rules were a good idea, they would help keep things in check and set boundaries. There were only a few things that Bucky really wanted out of this arrangement and that was to safeguard their friendship and for it not to be a drunken booty call thing. Oh, and safe sex.

[Buck] I dunno Iz we got a lot to lose if this goes bad x

[Izzy] It won’t. Pinky promise. XX

She had to go and say fucking ‘pinky promise’.

[Buck] What got you started on this idea?

[Izzy] Honestly? I’m horny and every guy I meet either comes with some amount of bullshit that I just don’t have the time or energy for right now. I need a friend, someone who understands and will share this with me. Guys I meet for 1 night are just there to get themselves off. I want a bit more respect than that. X

[Buck] And your 1st thought was me? xx

[Izzy] Actually no, my first thought was paying for an escort but that doesn’t get you over the awkwardness of sex with a stranger. X

[Buck] I dunno that can be fun :p

[Izzy] Fun but not what I’m looking for. X

[Buck] Fair enough. Why me? xx

[Izzy] Of all of the people I know who would probably sleep with me, you’re the safest option. I can’t ask Steve, he’d die of embarrassment lol. X

Steve would probably drop down dead if Izzy had asked him. As it was, Bucky wasn’t doing much better. His mouth was dry and he was almost shaking with nerves, skin pale and clammy. Panic was growing in his chest and all he could think about was losing her if this all went tits up. He registered somewhere in the back of his mind that Izzy had put him on the list of people who would maybe want to sleep with her. He didn’t know if that said more about her or him, and didn’t know if he should be offended or not. He let it slide.

[Buck] I’m pretty much dying over here too xx

[Izzy] You can say no, Bucky. I’ll not be upset or anything. XXX

[Buck] true story? x

[Izzy] True story. Listen, are you free in an hour? X

[Buck] Yep, I work at 6 though x

[Izzy] Come round to mine, we’ll talk ok? XX

[Buck] Ok doll xx

Jesus what was he doing? This had to be the worst and the best idea of all time. He was torn between protecting what he had and seizing this new opportunity. He might actually get the chance to sleep with Izzy, more than once too, and have it not ruin their friendship

Izzy answered the door in lounge wear; black leggings, novelty slippers and a huge white rolling stones t-shirt. There was no big showy seduction going down here which made him feel more at ease. He was usually confident when it came to sleeping with women but this was one of his best and oldest friends. There was a history there that he cherished as much as he cherished her.

“Drink?” She offered, shuffling off to the kitchen in her slippers.

“Soda, coffee, whatever. I’m easy.”

“Well I had heard that about you but I didn’t want to believe the gossip.” She quipped.

“I see my reputation precedes me. I presume that’s why I’m here.” It was half a joke and half serious.

He was curious as to whether Izzy had chosen to ask him because he slept around a little and had no problem with no strings sex. The problem was, with her, there were so many strings it was a tenuously strung web of feelings and memories. No part of this was going to be easy for him, but she had asked, and he would give her anything.

She passed him a chilled can of diet Pepsi before slouching on the sofa. She seemed comfortable with him, even in this awkward situation.

“I wouldn’t say it preceded you but I’m aware of it.” She smirked lightly.

“I do come with recommendations.” Bucky raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

She nodded, distracted, distant. The missed opportunity for a ‘your mom’ joke betrayed her nerves.

“Look, you can say no. I understand it’s not ideal. I just need someone reliable who gets me and won’t hurt me. Someone I connect with but who won’t make demands on my time or dictate to me how to live my life. You’re one of the most laid back guys I know and you’ve always looked after me, Bucky. I just need someone I can be with without any drama, you know, without any bullshit.”

Bucky felt like he was watching the scene from somewhere deep in his skull, too far behind his own eyes for him to actually be in control of his own mouth at this point. What she was asking for was virtually everything he wanted but he wanted love too. She was willing to give him almost everything he wanted other than a full-on relationship.

He decided it was as close as he was ever going to get and who knew, maybe the feelings would come for her later, just maybe she could learn to love him like he loved her. Or even part way to that and he’d be ok with it.

“I know I can, Iz, it’s just that I really cherish what we have and if this thing that we’re talking about here doesn’t work, and if it ruins our friendship I don’t know what I’d do. You and Steve, you’re everything to me. I can’t lose you, not for a few tumbles in the sack.” He was being as honest as he could without breaking his promise to himself.

“Then that’ll be one of the rules.” She said, regarding him carefully.

Bucky licked his lips absently as he thought about it. It could work, if they absolutely promised each other that their friendship came first, no matter what.

“Okay.” He said, blowing an unsteady breath out through pursed lips.

“Okay?” She jumped with anticipation.

“Yeah.” Bucky sighed right before Izzy threw herself forward to hug him.

“You’re awesome!” She breathed against his neck.

She felt different, all of a sudden. The giddy thrill of holding her with his feelings kept hidden had been replaced with the deep burn of longing. He had permission to want her now, permission to touch her more than he ever had, but yet he didn’t. They needed to set boundaries.

Pulling away, he stood up, turning his back to her as he collected himself.

“I have requirements.” Bucky said, after a few long moments of silence where they both just existed in the space, contemplating how everything was going to be different for them both after this.

“Okay,” she pulled out her phone. “Rule 1.”

“Protection. The sex always has to be safe.”

“Okay, yeah, good.” She typed quickly. “Rule 2.”

“Respect.” Bucky crossed his arms across his chest and frowned slightly as he searched for the right words. “No drunken booty calls, or making the other person feel shit for saying ‘no’. We respect each other as we always have and respect our other friends too.”

“Okay, got it.” She smiled softly.

“You do one or I’ll feel like I’m dictating.”

“Rule 3. No catching feelings.” She said after a long pause. “If it’s just sex it should be just sex. One person falling for the other will probably end in disaster so no feels and no jealousy.”

That was her first rule, no falling in love with him? Did it matter that he had already fallen for her? She said ‘no catching feelings’ but his were already caught. No matter how he looked at it, it still hurt to hear.

“Ok, in that case rule 4 should be no displays of affection. No kissing, no cuddling, no holding hands romantically, no gifts other than maybe the standard shit we’ve always done at Christmas or birthdays.” He clenched his jaw slightly. This was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. “Rule 4 supports rule 3. If there’s to be no chance of one of us catching feelings then avoiding the little things like that will help.”

“Right.” Her fingers tapped frantically over her phone screen. “Rule 5. We both have to get off. I’m about done with guys and their panda antics.” She said with a frustrated sigh.

“Panda antics?”

“You know. That joke? Why is a man like a panda? Because he eats, shoots and leaves.”

“Ohhhh, that’s witty.” Bucky smothered his smirk. “You know I’d never do that to you, right?”

“Let’s call this insurance.”

“What if I want to get you off but not myself?” He couldn’t believe he was even discussing this stuff with her.

“I suppose that’s your call.” She bit her lip thoughtfully. “Okay, so we both have to be willing to make sure we both get off, unless we choose otherwise for ourselves.”

“Okay, deal. Rule 6.” Bucky sat back down beside Izzy, the warmth of her leg against his was both comforting and alluring. “We only do this while we’re both single. And we’re up front about the people we’re seeing.” He wanted to know in advance if there was to be someone else on the scene.

“As soon as we think we might like someone we press pause.” Izzy was concentrating on getting it all down on her phone as Bucky watched her. The way she chewed the inside of her mouth, her minuscule frown. He couldn’t believe he was this close to having her.

“Rule 7?”

“Rule 7.” She mused. “We have to keep it secret.”

“Yeah, Steve would freak the fuck out!”

“Imagine the lectures? Oh god!” She laughed.

“No one is gonna understand this whole thing so yeah, keeping it to ourselves is a good call.” Bucky could do that. The only person either of them would have an issue keeping a secret from was actually Steve. It would be interesting to see if he could tell there was something going on.

“Rule 8. Just sex, no making love.” She sat back against the cushions as she wrote. “No sleepovers in the same bed either. And we should probably avoid using the word ‘love’ at all too.” She tapped her phone against her thigh as she mentally weighed the idea. “If we never say it, even to describe something, then it can never be misconstrued. Rule 3, remember?”

“Sure.” He said in absent agreement. “Define making love.”

“Oh, you know, slow and passionate, with kissing and holding each other. Staring lovingly into each other’s eyes, that sort of thing.”

“Right.” He had a significant downward turn to his excitement now. All these rules put in place just to stop either of them from catching feelings. Knowing when you were breaking rule 8 might be difficult but he supposed that if you left out the kissing and eye contact then some slow sex might get past unnoticed. “Rule 9?”

“No nudes.”

“Seriously?” Disappointment didn’t cut it.

“Seriously!” She chastised. “There’s no way I’m letting naked pictures of myself anywhere near your phone, that any one of your friends might see… Hell no!”

“What if I wanted to send but not receive?”

“You wouldn’t want to receive?”

“Well, yeah I would, but…”

“No nudes, Bucky.”

“Ahh come on, you’re breaking my balls here.”

“What would you want them for anyway?”

“You have to ask.” He laughed.

Izzy just shook her head with a bemused smile. She knew, of course she did. All guys liked to keep something to get them going with their personal time.

“Okay then, rule 10?”

The pair of them pondered in silence for a few moments.

“I got nothing.” Bucky shrugged.

“Ooooh!” Izzy twitched. “Rule 10 should be the all-encompassing friendship rule. Our friendship comes first, no matter what.”

How could he have forgotten that one? It was the thing that was most important to him. The first thing he’d said before they even started concocting rules and boundaries.

“That’s the most important thing to me, Izzy, I mean it.”

“Me too.” She smiled and squeezed his hand.

After a long pause, she read through the 10 rules they had drawn up. There were a few things that weren’t covered but they could go on for days creating red tape for themselves.

Red tape, hmm, I wonder.

“So is there anything you don’t like, or won’t try? Anything that’s a total turn off?” Bucky wanted to get some insight into the territory he’d be traversing.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I guess we just talk about it? Do the respect thing, no forcing each other and no guilt trips if one of us says no.”

“Sounds fair.” Bucky nodded. “And when exactly are you thinking we start this arrangement?”

“Whenever you’re ready.” She said calmly, like this wasn’t the most nerve racking thing he’d done since leaving the army.

Bucky just blinked. Was he ready?

Continue to chapter seven >>>

#bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #friends to lovers #bucky x ofc #bucky fanfic #promises #my writing #cloudy's writing

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salty-star-child · 5 years

Text

Another Malex AU - Part Four

part one, part two, part three, part four

[So, I think I’m officially going to call this little series The Boyfriend Babysitter, because you know that’s exactly what Maria is doing: babysitting her best friend’s boyfriend. Anyway, enjoy this while I get back to editing the last really late group of MG Week fics]

Alex is coming home for Christmas, and Maria thinks Guerin might die of nervous excitement.

She’s already offered the two of them the almost-uncomfortably-small guest room at hers. Other than for the reason that it’ll give them a safe space for them to just be, she has another goal in mind: forcing Michael Guerin to accept the hospitality she’s offering and just move in already.

Guerin’s initial response to the offer had been defensive (as expected) and resulted in some not-so-pleasant words lobbed at each other then ignoring each other. That lasted all of two days, because Jesse Manes had decided to show his ugly mug in the bar, got piss-drunk, and started mumbling some homophobic nonsense that made her nervous enough to call Guerin. They didn’t even have to say sorry to each other, they just knew in that way close friends do. The acknowledgment of the fact that they were close had been a tipping point for him. At least, it seemed that way to Maria.

The second time she brought up him moving in, he was less defensive about turning down the offer. He’d thanked her and told her he didn’t want to impose, that he didn’t want her to get sick of him hanging around all the time, and some other bullshit that had Maria rolling her eyes and sighing. She’d told him that the excuses were bull but if he was sure, she wouldn’t push.

Which is why this third offer will be coming in the form of a Christmas present. With Alex present. Because if there was one thing that she’d learned by spending so much time with Guerin, it was that he would figure out a way fly to the moon on a bicycle if Alex asked him to.

Currently, they’re waiting in the airport with other soldiers’ family members. Michael is fidgeting so much that it’s starting to get on her nerves.

“Guerin, seriously. Chill,” she said, hands grabbing his wrists and pulling his hands apart. “Alex’s gonna prefer to see you alive but if you don’t quit it, I will have no other choice but to put you six feet under.”

Michael snorted and offered a sheepish sorry, stuffing his hands into his pockets. They both go back to watching the people coming out of the Arrivals gate.

There’s a gasp off to their left and an older woman starting to sob loudly as a younger woman rushed forward to embrace a man dressed in fatigues. As heartwarming as it was to see the strangers reuniting, it also meant that they would see Alex soon. Which meant that Michael and Maria doubled their search efforts as best they could. Michael saw him first—no surprise to her, he seemed to have a sixth sense dedicated to Alex with how he always seemed to show up right before she could text him that Alex had sent him something—and was weaving between people to get to him.

They’re in a tight embrace when she manages to catch up, muttering apologies to anyone Michael may have shoved as she followed. She let them have another minute before clearing her throat to get their attention.

“Y’all are cute and all, but I’d like to hug my best friend too, thanks.”

Alex smiled at her whereas Michael gave her a put-upon sigh and stepped back. Maria hurried into the opening and wrapped her arms around her best friend.

“I missed you, so much,” Maria said into the airman’s neck. She pulled away, hands on his shoulders. “Now let’s go home.”

////

The three-hour drive from Albuquerque to Roswell is spent catching Alex up on the latest gossip, the most recent bar fights and the petty reasons behind them, about Isobel’s new hot-shot boyfriend and Max’s decision to join the police force, and Mimi DeLuca’s slowly failing memory. The last one soured the cheery mood, but they both felt a head’s up was warranted when Mimi was forgetting more and more daily. All little things so far, but often enough that it was a concern.

Maria hadn’t officially introduced her mom to Michael yet (though she’d certainly talked about him often enough since Rosa died, and Alex and Liz had left Roswell). Her mom had thought he was her boyfriend for the first few weeks—Maria hadn’t even realized until her mom told her to bring her boyfriend around for dinner and she’d sputtered protests. She’d eventually gotten it out that Michael was just a friend who happened to be off-the-market. Getting Alex and Michael settled into the guest room will be the first time Mimi will actually meet and have the chance to talk to Michael.

She was rather curious what her mother might read off Michael.

Mimi is in the kitchen pulling a tray of various Christmas-themed sugar cookies from the oven when they arrive at Maria’s. She and Alex slip out of their shoes, abandoning them by the door, to greet her while Michael does the same, only slower and more uncomfortably. He stands in the kitchen’s entryway, hands shoved into his pockets, while Alex hugs Mimi and Maria swipes a still-too-hot cookie. Her mother pulled back from the hug just enough to cup Alex’s face between her hands.

“Oh, look at you,” she said. “Could hardly recognize you in so much color!”

Michael snorted and Alex groaned, though the smile never left his face. Her mother, however, caught sight of Michael over the airman’s shoulder at the sound of his amusement.

“And who’s this?”

“Mom, this is my friend Michael,” Maria said, only a tiny bit concerned by the absence of recognition. Sure, her mother may have never met Michael before, but she’d certainly seen him around town enough to at least be able to recognize him as familiar. “You’ve seen him around town with the Evans twins, remember?”

The fog in her mother’s eyes cleared at the mention of the twins. Her smile turns a tad sheepish.

“Michael, of course. Maria’s been mentioning you quite a bit lately. It’s nice to meet you,” Mimi smiled, stepping around Alex to embrace him. “I’m glad she has a friend still in town while Liz and Alex are away.”

Both her mother and Michael seemed to tense for a split second during the hug, like they were assessing each other, trying to gauge danger levels. It confused Maria—she’d never seen her mom react to someone like that before. But the tension was gone as fast as it’d come, and she wondered if she may have read into things.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ms. DeLuca,” Michael said politely and in much the same manner Maria had seen him interact with Arturo and Mrs. Evans. He took a gentle half-step back, ending the hug her mother initiated.

“Mimi is just fine. I insist.”

“Mimi; got it. And Max and Iz are great, but,” Michael sighed dramatically, leaning against the edge of a cabinet, “it’s refreshing to hang out with someone else for a change.”

Maria smiled and glanced at Alex only to see a besotted grin and lovesick eyes. She shoved his shoulder, snickering when he stumbled.

“You and Alex are friends too?” Mimi asked, returning to the task of putting a fresh batch of sugar cookies in the oven. Michael’s eyes flicked over to Alex, questioning and giving him the reins.

“Actually,” Alex interrupted, tongue darting out to wet chapped lips, “Michael is my…boyfriend.”

There’s a slight hesitance in the way Alex says the word boyfriend, and she knew it was because the two hadn’t explicitly talked about labels in their letters. Her mother’s eyes dart between the two boys in the kitchen. They smile at each other—Alex with a shier sweetness, and Michael with a bright excitement. Her mother smirks, face relaxing into a far-off serenity as she reads the energy in the air.

“I see why you were so insistent Michael was just a friend now,” her mother hums a laugh. The boys both flush. “Why don’t you boys go get settled, hm? We’ll do something special for Alex’s first night home after.”

“Sounds like code for homemade pizzas and horror movie marathon,” Alex stage-whispered to Michael as he grabbed the other’s hand, leading him to their room.

“Sounds like a dream,” Michael answered with the same tone.

Maria and Mimi watched the two walk down the hall, Michael picking up his boyfriend’s bags along the way. The kitchen is quiet until the boys have entered the room, door clicking shut behind them. She turned to see her mother staring into the empty space where they’d been. Had it been anyone else, Maria might’ve been concerned by the spaciness in the expression, the distinctly lost and hollow look in her eye. But she’s seen this look on her mother before, knows what it means, knows what it looks like when she’s been pulled out of the present and to somewhere else entirely.

She placed a gentle hand on her mother’s arm when she’s been gone a moment too long.

Her mother blinked rapidly as she returned to her surroundings. She turned to Maria with a tired smile.

“He seems like a nice boy,” Mimi said, “but, please, you and Alex…both of you be careful, with and around him.”

It’s odd to see her mom so serious. A rare occurrence that has her straightening up from her relaxed stance against the counter. Her brows furrowed.

“So many secrets…dangerous secrets, but a good heart behind them,” her mother told her as way of explanation. She kissed Maria’s forehead and that was the end of the conversation. “Can you grab the icing for me? And sprinkles, if you’re feeling especially festive.”

#malex #malex fic #michael x alex #michael guerin #alex manes #malex au #maria deluca #maria and michael #the boyfriend babysitter #starchild writes #roswell nm #roswell new mexico #rnm #rnm fic #roswell #mimi deluca

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girls-scenarios · 5 years

Note

Hiya!! Are requests still open for the holiday prompts?? If so, can u please do #9. Persons A and B must convince their child that yes, Santa is real. Where the parents are sana and tzuyu from twice and their daughter is minjoo from iz*one becuase the resemblance is uncanny!

Holiday Prompts

9. Persons A and B must convince their child that yes, Santa is real.

Idols: Sana and Tzuyu (Twice)

Admin Kiwi

A/N: Sorry for taking so long with this one, I hope it turned out how you wanted it!

It was the first week of December when Sana came to Tzuyu with a problem.

“Honey, I think Minjoo is beginning to realize that Santa isn’t real.”

Tzuyu stared at her wife for a few seconds, processing what she’d just said. “Really? But she’s only six!” Minjoo was currently at school, so there was no chance of her overhearing them, but Tzuyu still kept her voice low. “How would she already know?”

“We must have slipped up somehow last Christmas. Maybe she found the present stash?” Tzuyu shook her head.

“Impossible. We would have known had she gotten into our closet.” She paused, pressing her lips together. “Why do you think she’s beginning to doubt Santa?”

“I overheard her talking to some of her friends at school talking about Christmas. One of the girls said that they had to be good, and Minjoo says ‘do you really think Santa can see all of us?’ Thankfully the other little girl’s parents answered that question before because she had an answer, but Minjoo didn’t look convinced.”

“Maybe she’s just growing up,” Tzuyu said, and Sana let out an offended gasp.

“She’s only six! She should believe for at least another few years!” Sana crossed her arms, and Tzuyu felt a smile make its way onto her lips. Her wife was so cute when she was determined. “I say that we need to do our best to keep the magic alive this year.”

“Do you have any ideas?” At her words, a grin spread across Sana’s face.

“Yes. I call it Operation: Make Minjoo Believe in Santa Claus Again.”

The only problem was that Minjoo, as shy and gullible as she looked, was pretty sharp. Early on, she’d caught Sana putting money under her pillow and stopped believing in the tooth fairy, and ever since, she’d been on to her parents. She knew that movies were fake and rarely ever had nightmares, even after the time she had snuck out of bed and went downstairs to secretly watch the horror movie Sana and Tzuyu were watching. So it was really no surprise that she had started doubting Santa. But still, Tzuyu wasn’t going to give up this easily, and neither was Sana.

Most likely, one of them had slipped up with something last Christmas. Maybe Minjoo had heard them talking about gifts for her, or maybe she’d seen the wrapping paper in the storage room. So the first order of business was to be extra careful. The second was to go above and beyond.

“I found a device that plays the sound of hooves on the roof,” Sana said one day during breakfast after dropping Minjoo off at school, showing Tzuyu the Amazon page. “Do you think that would work?”

“That would probably convince me,” Tzuyu said, eyes wide as she looked over the page. “We should definitely get that.” Sana looked triumphant as she turned off her phone and took a sip of her coffee.

“Did you find anything?”

“Actually, yes,” Tzuyu said pulling out her own phone. “I looked up ideas on how to help your kid believe I Christmas and got some great ideas. Like feeding the reindeer, and making sure to leave something of Santa’s around like he left it. And making better hiding spaces. Or even better, setting up a camera and having ‘Santa’ caught on tape.” Sana raised her eyebrows at the last point, obviously intrigued.

“How would we do that?”

“Basically we set up a camera, and then one if us dresses up like Santa and puts the gifts under the tree after Minjoo is asleep. When Minjoo wakes up, we suggest we check the video and boom, there’s proof of Santa.”

“That. Is an incredible idea.” Tzuyu grinned at her wife, who grinned back, eyes sparkling.

“We’ve totally got this! Minjoo isn’t going to give up on Santa just yet!”

Everything was in place. All of the presents had been wrapped and stashed away in a new hiding place (the attic in Tzuyu and Sana’s closet), the noise device has been hidden in Minjoo’s room near the window, and the camera had been bought, explained to Minjoo, and then placed at the perfect angle. All that had to happen now was for Sana and Tzuyu to pull this off.

“I can’t believe I have to be Santa,” Tzuyu grumbled under her breath as Sana helped her get into the padded suit. Her wife couldn’t hold in her giggle.

“Come on, honey, you’re the taller one. It just makes sense.”

“You’re being Santa next year .”

“Shhh, it’s all over the moment we wake up Minjoo.” Tzuyu quieted down and glanced towards the door.

“You’re sure she’s asleep?”

“She was when I checked on her. I can tell when she’s faking it. When she’s really asleep, her mouth falls open and it’s so cute, but when she fakes being asleep, her mouth is closed.” Tzuyu smiled, knowing exactly what Sana was talking about. At least Minjoo hadn’t learned how to properly fake being asleep yet.

“Okay, help me with this beard and get the bag with the presents and then we’ll be all set.”

The camera was rolling. Tzuyu wasn’t sure how Santa was supposed to act, and she’d never pretended to be a man before, but she did her best, walking slow and taking big steps. Once she’d laid out the presents in a way that looked right, she turned her gaze to the cookies. Damn, the fake beard. How was she going to do this?

Making sure to keep her face away from the camera, she moved over to the table and picked up one of the cookies, eyeing it warily. She was really glad Minjoo had chosen to put out small cookies this year. The fake hair ended up in her mouth along with the cookie, and she really wanted to spit it out, but the camera…. She just dealt with it, choking it down and hoping that the milk would wash down the stray hairs in her mouth.

Finally, the cookies and milk were done, and the note from “Santa” (actually written by Jihyo) was planted, and Tzuyu walked away with hair still in her mouth but feeling accomplished. Sana was waiting for her at the door to their bedroom, and she quickly and quietly shut the door behind her as Tzuyu pulled off the fake beard and stuck out her tongue to pick off the stray pieces of hair.

“You did great, babe,” Sana said, giving her a bright smile and locking the door before walking over to help her take off the suit. Tzuyu grimaced.

“I could have done without the beard getting in my mouth,” she replied, but a smile was making its way onto her face as she thought about what Minjoo’s reaction would be. “All that’s left is to set off the sound.” Sana held up her phone with a Bluetooth link to the device and grinned.

“Finish changing. Once we’re in bed I’ll start it. Since she might hear it and come over here.”

Later, once Tzuyu was in bed and Sana had pressed the button, Tzuyu listened to the faint sound of hooves and let her eyes close, happy with their effort. She’d swallow all kinds of hair if it meant that Minjoo was happy.

The next morning, they were woken up bright and early by a wide-eyed Minjoo clambering onto their bed.

“Wake up, Santa was here! Mommy, I want to watch the camera!” Usually, this would be much to early for Tzuyu, especially after being up so late. But hearing the excitement in her daughter’s voice woke her right up.

“Let’s go downstairs, then,” Sana said, sleepiness in her voice as she sat up and stretched her arms overhead. “Come on, honey.”

“Right behind you guys.” With a little yawn, Tzuyu threw her legs over the side of the bed and slipped into her slippers before following her wife and daughter downstairs. Minjoo went immediately to the note beside the cookies and held it up, eyes still wide.

“Look! Santa heard what I said about him!” Sana gasped and got down on the six-year-old’s level to look at the letter, and Tzuyu smiled as she sat down on the couch beside them. Sana was so good with kids.

“What did you say about Santa?” Minjoo seemed to think for a second before pulling the note close to her chest.

“Can we watch the camera first?” She was still a little skeptical, but Tzuyu understood that. She’d been counting on the camera to know for sure. With a smile, Sana stood up and grabbed the tablet and joined Tzuyu on the couch to show the video to their daughter.

Sure enough, there was Santa Tzuyu on the screen. However, with the suit, beard, and her face turned away from the camera, she looked like the real Santa. Minjoo’s mouth dropped open as she watched Santa Tzuyu put the presents under the tree and then move over to the cookies, then place down the note before leaving.

“My friends are not going to believe this. We caught Santa on camera!” Sana and Tzuyu shared a secret smile over her head. Everything had been worth it. “I even heard reindeer on the roof last night . So I wasn’t dreaming!” She jumped up, excited, and Sana laughed, putting away the tablet.

“Should we see what Santa brought you now?”

“Yes!”

Later, after presents had been opened and Minjoo was happily playing with the new toys she’d gotten, Tzuyu sat down beside her wife and held up her mug of coffee.

“How about a toast?” Sana giggled and brought up her own mug.

“To us?”

“To us. And to Christmas magic.” They clinked their mugs together, and turned to look over at their daughter, who was blissfully unaware of everything they’d done the night before. Again, Tzuyu found herself smiling. This was definitely a Christmas they would never forget.

#twice #satzu #sana #tzuyu #holiday prompts #prompt writing #twice drabble #twice drabbles #satzu drabble

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fairstarlights · 6 years

Text

Peanut-butter

Summary: Based off of this OTP Prompt

Pairings: Analogical (Peanut-butter/Jelly)

Chapter Word Count: Enough.

Genre: Romance/Fluff

General Story Warning: None! Unless you count a really minor flip out and kissing?

Notes: Romance. Just. Yeah. All my fics are sad. I need a happy one.

Dating sites weren't Virgil's thing but Roman had hounded him for months about Valentines Day and how he needed a date. It was still a month away and not nearly enough time to find someone. Finally, Virgil caved and with some online searching he found a free dating site and signed up. Without telling Roman. If that guy ever found out he had one, he'd never hear the end of it and would probably be subjected to a Roman-ized version of twenty questions.

Which would be twenty billion questions until he temporarily blocked him on his phone. Some how Roman always found a way around that and it was infuriating. Virgil dipped his spoon into the peanut butter, swished it around then stuck it into his mouth.

Virgil stared at his profile for few minutes and seriously considered deleting it. One thing, he would be interacting with total strangers. Stranger danger. He didn't know any of these people. They could be serial killers or rapists or- something. Virgil didn't really want to think too much about it. Two, there was the 'About me' profile. He had done his best to fill it out, without giving too much away. Both for conversation purposes and for not wanting people to know how weird he was before they even started talking. Three, he probably wasn't going to message anyone, ever. How do you even start a conversation of a dating site? It was all just ridiculous and a waste of time.

Virgil furiously stabbed at the peanut-butter with his spoon, scooping out a spoonful and shoving it into his mouth. He then grabbed his phone off his desk, opened up the tumblr app and mindless began scrolling.

It day two when a 'pop' sound was heard from Virgil's laptop. Said boy was sitting on the couch and reading one of his poetry books when he heard it. It wasn't a familiar sound so, as curious as he was, he stood up, grabbed his peanut-butter jar, and walked over. He ran a finger over the track pad and the screen came to life. He pulled up the minimized Chrome browser. The dating site was still open and noticed a (1) over the envelope at the top of the screen. Virgil's heart sped up a bit as he scrolled up and clicked it, as he waited for it to load he scooped up some peanut-butter, but this time keeping a hold on the spoon.

The message appeared and displayed the username the message.

[IntellectuallySuperior] at 2:03pm 6/21/18

Salutations,

I would like to introduce myself. My name is Logan. I have read over your profile and it strikes me as peculiar but also quite interesting. I see that we both have the same love for poetry. Although, yours seem to be more on the morose side, I think we could both find a neutral ground in the poetry department. I know some of our interests conflict, but upon further reading we also have a multitude that we share. If you would like to discuss, feel free to message me back at your convenience.

- Logan

Virgil stared at the message in disbelief. Was this for real? This guy talked like he was emailing a college professor. Virgil scrolled up and clicked on the guy's name. His profile appeared and Virgil let out a snort. This guy looked like he screamed, 'Oh, you want the manager? Sure, I'll go get him.' He would do a turn around and say 'Hello, how may I be of service?' In all of his pictures he was his dark brown hair was nearly completely slicked back, he wore black thick rimmed glasses, with a black or blue polo and a different assortment of ties. His facial expressions seemed strained, like he didn't know to smile for a picture. It looked painful.

Virgil scrolled through the rest of Logan's profile and learned he was in grad school earning his doctorate in medicine. He liked poetry. Virgil hmm'd. He wondered if he wondered liked Slam Poetry. More things included, writing, reading, cooking, puzzles,and several other things that Virgil didn't know what they were without googling it. Under his 'Profession' he had written 'Tutor'. Huh, interesting. Virgil licked his lips and tasted peanut-butter, he took another bite as he read his 'About me'. It was arrogant and he seemed quite full of himself, he chose his username quite well.

Virgil clicked back the messages and clicked reply. They didn't seem very likely to date or anything but if anything, they could humor each other for a while. Virgil moved the spoon around in his mouth and it make clanking sounds as it hit his teeth. What was he even going to say?

[OrchestratorofHumanSuffering]

replying to

[IntellectuallySuperior] at 2:26pm 6/21/18

Sup, Logan. I'm Virgil. Sorry you didn't like my type of poetry, maybe you could share some of yours and I could share some of mine, the less 'morose' ones. Do you like to listen to Slam Poetry? I could give you a couple YouTube links to a few of my favorites. If I know what kind of poetry you prefer I could find some slams that might be more your style. Anyway, let me know or whatever.

- I guess.

The sent button was clicked and Virgil leaned back in his chair, pulling the now clean spoon out of his mouth with a 'pop'. This probably wouldn't last long.

It was a week before Valentines Day and Logan had asked Virgil out on a coffee date over the phone. The conversations on the site escalated so quickly it made Virgil nervous but an excited kind of nervous. Of course there was those nagging thoughts and feelings that told him to run away cause this was all just a set up. Why would Logan, an insanely attractive, and intelligent grad student want to be with him of all people?

Virgil wasn't always the most pleasant to be around. He snarked, was rude and snappy, had so many walls built up that not even the bravest or talented of devolishish people would attempt to break down. Virgil wasn't that attractive, he wasn't too cheerful or bright. He tended to look on the negative a lot. His posture was bad and rarely looked at people in the eyes because he was shy.

Logan must have seen something in him that Virgil didn't. Or, his glasses were expired and they needed updated immediately. Though, he wouldn't mind if either of those things. Logan could be quite difficult to talk to but he acted like he really cared. He hadn't seen Virgil go through any anxiety or panic attacks yet, he hoped he never would, but if that day did come...he hoped Logan would still stick around anyway.

Virgil was already in the coffee shop, seated. He hadn't ordered yet, figuring it would be polite to wait. He did go up and ask for a plastic spoon and a small plastic cup of peanut-butter. He nibbled on that as he waited, watching the clock. Logan said to meet at 3pm. Three more minutes. The door chime rang and Virgil turned his head and then immediately turned back around. It as Logan and he looked more gorgeous in person. Virgil swallowed the last bit of peanut-butter in his throat but it felt like glue and, oh god, why did it have to turn to glue.

“Virgil?” Logan said, his voice right next to him. Said boy accidentally knocked his plastic cup to the floor with his elbow and stood up fast. Logan blinked in surprise and Virgil immediately felt like an idiot. He swallowed and coughed a few times.

“Uh...” Nice. “Hey, Logan.”

“Hello, Virgil. I didn't expect you to be here so soon. Have you been waiting long?”

“No, not really. I probably came about ten minutes ago.” Logan raised an eyebrow but didn't anything. Oh my god. You're meeting the most gorgeous man in the world and you look like some desperate idiot. Virgil stuck his thumb in the direction of the register. “Lets order us some coffee?” Logan nodded and motioned for Virgil to lead.

Once up to the register Virgil desperately wished he had a spoonful of peanut-butter to help him relax. “You seem a bit tense. Are you nervous?” Logan, who was standing beside of him, asked with a concerned look. Fuck yeah he was always nervous. Every god damn day, and right now he needed a heaping spoonful of peanut-butter stat.

“A bit. I'll be fine though.” He gave Logan a small reassuring smile and Logan's face looked like it went on a 404 screen. Virgil's smile faded and the line moved, it was their turn. “Logan.” He touched the others arm and shook it. Logan blinked and his face turned red as he seemed to have realized he was staring. He cleared his throat and moved up.

“You can order first.” He prompted. Virgil shrugged and ordered a plain black coffee. He went to reach for his wallet but Logan stopped him. “No, I invited you. I will be the one paying.” Logan ordered a decaff coffee with double cream. Logan paid, their drinks were handed to them and they went back to the table Virgil had been sitting at earlier.

The conversation went better than expected. Logan talked about the many Slam Poets he found on YouTube and had memorized quite a few. Logan eventually pulled out a poetry book, just one of their shared favorites, “Pictures of the gone world” by Ferlinghetti. They took turns reading and Virgil all but long forgot about his peanut-butter. It turned into chit chat, then into more of their daily lives and expanding on their interest. Soon it was nearing six and Logan had to leave to leave to study for a test he had on Monday.

They exited the coffee shop and they both looked at each other. Virgil's eyes glanced shyly away and he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, “I had fun, today. Thanks, Logan. And thanks for the coffee.”

“I had fun as well. I expected nothing less, honestly.” Virgil looked over at Logan, who had a small smile on his lips. It quickly fade and his face flushed a bit. “I do, however, do not know how dates end. In movies I have watched, they normally kiss.” Virgil's eyebrows shot up and he could feel his face turning redder than Roman’s Christmas sweaters. Logan looked at him, “Do you mind? I don't want to be presumptuous and make you uncomfortable. I wouldn't do anything without your clear consent.”

Virgil licked his lips and could still taste the peanut-butter, that was somewhat comforting. Though if he could reach inside and scoop some out with his hands and shoved it into his mouth, he would. That would be embarrassing though and he would have to kill himself after pulling a stunt in front of Logan like that.

“Is that a no?” Virgil's heart pounded in his chest.

“No- I mean- yes- no! I mean-ugh! Yes, you can kiss me.” He whispered the last half. Logan looked amused and took a few steps forward. He leaned down and was inches away from Virgil's lips but stopped and pulled back. Virgil blinked, “What? Change your mind?”

“No. No, I do want to kiss you.” Logan looked confused, and was staring at Virgil like he was some sort of puzzle.

“Then why didn't you?”

“Why do you smell like peanut-butter? I don't recall you eating peanut-butter.” Virgil rubbed under his nose nervously and looked away.

“I had some before you showed up?”

“I see. Well, I know you didn't know, but I am severely allergic to peanuts.” Virgil's eye's widened as he looked at Logan in shock and he put his hands over his mouth.

“I'm so sorry! I-”

“It's fine, Virgil. I didn't tell you so you couldn't have known. That was...” Logan paused, adjusting his glasses, “...an error on my part.”

Virgil uncovered his mouth and bit his lip nervously. “Okay. Well, next time, I'll be prepared.” Virgil quickly backtracked, “If you want there to be a next time.” Logan let out a small laugh though his nose.

“Yes. I do.” Perfect. Opportunity opened. Time to strike.

“I do have a...” Virgil tried for a better word. “...proposition.” Logan looked curious. That might not have been the right word to use. Best to use your own vocabulary. Now he had to make sure that the word he used made sense. Virgil stared at Logan for a few beats before Logan's face went from curious to concerned.

“Is everything alright?”

“Ah, okay, I used the wrong word! I messed up!” Virgil looked away in embarrassment and it took Logan a second before giving Virgil an highly amused look.

“That is fine, Virgil. Express whatever you say in your own words.”

Virgil sighed and looked back at Logan, who still looked amused. “My friends are having this party on Valentines Day and I was wondering if you wanted to, ya know, go with me.” Virgil shrugged and looked down as he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie.

“I think that would be a great idea, I would love to meet your friends. I also never have celebrated Valentines Day. I see it as some unneeded marketing tool and some pointless 'holiday' to celebrate the people that you love, when you should be doing that every day anyway.” Logan blinked, realizing he was rambling and looked at Virgil, who was grinning.

“I like you.”

It was the day of the Valentines Day party and Virgil had invited Logan over to his apartment to stay for a few hours till it was time to leave. Of course, Virgil was nervous and had cleaned the apartment so well that he didn't think it had been even been this clean when he first moved in. He should take pictures and show his landlord and have HER pay HIM for once. There was a knock on the door and Virgil looked at the clock, the party started at six and he told Logan to be by at four. It was exactly four. What a nerd. Virgil couldn't help the grin that spread over his face as he rushed over to the door, he tried to compose his face into at least a regular smile.

“Good afternoon, Virgil.”

“Logan.” Logan walked in and looked around, but staying in once spot.

“It quite pleasant.” Virgil rolled his eyes and shut the door.

“Yeah. It's nice. Hopefully, one day I'll be able to own a house.”

“That would be ideal.” Virgil hmm'd in response and grabbed a bag of chocolates off the coffee table in the living room.

“Hey, Specs, catch.”

“Specs-?” Logan barely had time to respond as a piece of chocolate candy was coming towards his face. He ducked and hit the wall behind him. Virgil laughed and popped one his mouth.

“Nice.” Logan looked up at Virgil with a frown.

“A warning would be 'nice'.”

“I did. I told you to catch.”

“A better warning next time. Also, why did you call me 'specs'?”

Virgil tapped his temple and with his free hand, “Glasses.” Logan looked unamused. “Lets try again. Do I need to count to three this time?” Virgil tried to bite back a smile as Logan gave him a 'are you serious' look. Virgil shrugged and threw the candy. Logan caught it and looked down at it. It was a Hershey kiss. Logan raised an eyebrow and walked towards Virgil as he fiddled with it.

“I have an idea.” Virgil made a questioning noise in response but wasn't paying attention to Logan. He turned back to Logan who was almost completely up in his space. Virgil nearly jumped out of his skin and his heart began to race. No, no, not now. He willed himself to calm down and surely enough, he did. Logan looked serious, he usually did but there was something in his eyes. Something playful? Mischievous?

“How about we...retry our parting attempt from last time?” Virgil licked his lips and nodded. Logan looked mildly nervous for a second before he unwrapped the kiss and stuck it between his lips. Virgil looked confused and Logan waved a hand in front of his face, as if telling him to go just go with it. Logan took a deep breath, cupped Virgil's face with both of his hands and pressed their lips together.

The kiss was now shared between them and it was sweet and Logan tasted a bit like cinnamon tea. The kiss was melting the longer their lips stayed together. Virgil licked the inside involuntarily, also brushing Logan's and making the man shiver and pull away, a small thin string of saliva following then breaking apart.

“Gross.” Logan deadpanned.

“The kiss or the kiss saliva?” Virgil laughed. Logan rolled his eyes and licked his lips then opened his mouth to say something then froze.

“You had peanut-butter.”

“What?”

“I can taste it.” There was a bit of panic rising in Logan's voice.

“Logan, calm down it's not-”

“I need to get to the hospital. Of all day's I didn't bring my pen!” Logan looked as frantic as he sounded as he tore out his cell from his pocket. Virgil reached over and took it from his hands. Logan looked dumbfounded then furious, “What do you think you are doing?!”

“Trying to explain to you that you aren't dying!” Virgil said in a frustrated tone. Logan opened his mouth but Virgil held up a hand. He walked into the kitchen, opened up a cabinet, walked back into the room and shoved the jar into Logan's hands. Logan looked down at it and then tilted it so he could read the label.

“SunButter...?”

“Yeah...” Virgil traced the outside of Logan's phone with fingers, “its a peanut-butter alternative. Its organic or some shit. It's nut free and healthy is what I'm saying.” Virgil looked up. “So, are you done freaking out?” Logan stared at Virgil blankly. Virgil curled in on himself reflexively, “What?”

“You gave up eating regular peanut-butter for me?”

Virgil averted his eyes then they went back to Logan, he shrugged, “I need to eat something healthier anyway. I tastes better too, honestly.”

Logan put the jar down, walked over to Virgil and pushed their lips together and wrapped his arms wrapped around Virgil's waist. Virgil melted into it and the phone dropped onto carpet as he slowly and carefully, put his arms around the back of Logan's neck. Who knew peanut-butter could taste this good.

#analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sander sides promps #my work #fanfiction #analogical prompts #virgil/logan #romantic analogical #peanut butter and jelly

254 notes · View notes

mysticdrabbles · 6 years

Note

Hewwo?? Can you do RFA+3 with an MC that gets WAYY into the holidays? Like, they constantly have a holiday themed outfit and bakes way too many treats? I'm sorry if it's vague or anything! Happy holidays!

This is me most years. I’m behind this year, I’ve been so busy T_T I shall live vicariously through the MC in this post. Happy holidays!

Zen:

Zen likes Christmas too

But he’s usually too busy to get fully into the holidays.

His job takes priority, and he’s often working on some project through the holidays

He’ll gladly wear any holiday themed outfits with you though

Bonus points if you can find anything couples themed. (Like THIS!)

And anytime you two get together it’s like a Disney Christmas special.

One of you starts singing a Christmas song and of course the other has to join in.

Who needs the radio on when you have this man nearby?

He’ll supply you with as much ambient Christmas music as you need.

He’ll even eat all the Christmas treats, since you’re the one who made them!

Yoosung:

Christmaaaas!

He’s the type of person who would gladly wear one of those ugly Christmas sweaters.

(Especially if it makes you happy.)

But he’s usually too busy or depressed to celebrate it properly.

Not to mention too broke. He has one of those mini Christmas trees in his room because it’s all he can afford T_T

He tries to keep up with you when you’re baking but he just

Can’t.

He mostly just stands by to help you if you need something

And stares at you in awe.

(Both awe of your baking skill and at how much he adores you.)

If neither of you can afford to go as all out with decorations as you want to, you can make some!

Jaehee:

Jaehee has low key dreamed of this type of Christmas.

But Christmas is a busy time at work, and even when she does get time off she’s usually too stressed to do any decorating or baking. She usually just watches Christmas specials on TV.

She comes home one day to find that her house has been completely festive-ized.

Every inch of the house is decorated in garlands and lights

The smell of gingerbread is drifting through the house

A bare, plastic tree sits in the corner next to a box of ornaments

(You wanted to wait and decorate it with her~!)

The second she walks in the room she stops and stares at it all with wide eyes.

(For a moment you wonder if she’s upset with you. You did do all this to her apartment without asking her, after all.)

She’s not mad.

At all.

She loves it.

She finally gets to have a real Christmas!

Jumin:

Jumin’s past Christmases have usually been fairly conservative.

He’s done the basics to honour the holiday in the past. Christmas dinners, exchanging gifts, go to church, the basic traditions like that.

But he’s fascinated to learn about how you celebrate the holiday’s.

(He wants to participate in poor people Christmas with you.)

He takes a day off work

(your relationship is so bad for Jaehee’s health i stg)

and spends the entire day decorating and baking with you.

He’ll even wear a cheesy Christmas outfit, to fully immerse himself in the experience.

He doesn’t get everything right. When you tell him you want to listen to Christmas carols his first response is “I’ll hire a private band"

(You’re like “no dude it’s cool I have Spotify” )

And he doesn’t entirely understand why you have to bake all the cookies yourself when he has a private chef who could make you all the cookies you want

But he’ll do it anyways.

Because his favourite part of Christmas?

Is seeing how happy it makes you.

Seven:

Before he met you, and got his brother back, he was always depressed around Christmas.

But now he has a reason to celebrate and he is making up for lost time.

Not to mention he wants to give Saeran the best Christmas ever

He will match everything you do and more.

He’s not trying to make it a competition it’s just how he is sometimes

You’re wearing a holiday sweater? He’s wearing a whole onesie.

Yours lights up? He wires Christmas lights into his glasses and programs them to flash in time with whatever music is playing.

It hurts his eyes but it’s worth it

You’ve baked six different types of Christmas treats so far? He… well, he set the oven on fire because he took on an overly ambitious project to try and one up you. But still!

He even builds a Christmas tree robot. It has wheels and it’s programmed to play follow the nearest person it finds and roll after them playing Christmas music.

(Saeran has to kidnap it and at least add a clock to the program so the damn thing stops trying to follow him back to his room whenever he gets up in the middle of the night.)

Underneath all of the dramatics and competitiveness, he’s really just doing it because he wants to have a real Christmas and spend time with you.

He wants to participate.

And he wants to do things with you.

Saeran:

Saeran has never had a real Christmas either.

And you are the perfect person to introduce him to the wonders of the holiday season.

Because Saeran has always low key envied the general cheer and energy that others seem to feel during the holidays?

He wants to be a part of that too.

But he’s not like his brother. He can’t just let loose and go crazy. (Social anxiety’s a bitch.)

But he can let himself be dragged into it by you.

He gives some token protests every now and then, but it’s clear he’s enjoying every second of it.

He’ll wear ugly Christmas sweaters with you. Because you asked him to, not because he wants to or anything.

He already likes baking, so he’ll gladly help you out.

(He says it’s because he’s worried you’ll burn the house down or something with all your enthusiasm, but he actually just really wants to bake with you.)

(He also likes sweets, so he’s also more than happy to help you eat them all.)

He actually really enjoys decorating the tree too

You and him and Saeyoung make a bunch of handmade ornaments to put on the tree

(Some of Saeyoung’s creations get vetoed. Nothing that can start fires is touching your tree, idiot.)

He loves decorating the tree with you and Saeyoung. It makes it feel personal. Like its actually his. Like he’s part of it.

When you tell V you like Christmas, he’s like

“Oh, me too!”

He has no idea.

When he says he likes Christmas, he means he enjoys the peaceful feeling and the general aesthetic

Snow falling, soft Christmas-tree-lit pictures and fireplaces, that kind of thing.

You are a whole other level

And V is an enabler.

You found a great new cookie recipe online but you’re out of sugar because you’ve already baked four other great cookie recipes you found online? He buys you more and wishes you good luck on your next recipe.

You want to bake this next batch of cookies but the tarts aren’t done baking yet. He will literally buy you a second oven so you can bake even more sweets.

You’ve been wearing Christmas sweaters every day for the past week but you ran out and now you have to wash them. Don’t worry, he’ll just buy you more to wear until the laundry is done.

He will buy you every single Christmas decoration your local Michael’s has to offer if that’s what you want.

He just wants his love to be happy.

He likes drawing little sketches of you while you work on decorating and baking, trying to capture the light in your eyes as you do something you love.

(He’ll help you too, if you want him to! But he’ll still stop to snap pictures of you every now and then.)

Vanderwood:

Vanderwood has never got to celebrate Christmas.

They’re one of those people who see it as kind of commercialized nonsense tbh?

They don’t get it

It’s not jealousy at all nope

Until they get to participate.

You buy them a Santa hat that has leopard print fuzz instead of white and they just

They’ve never loved anything more in their entire life.

They don’t even care that Seven makes fun of them for it.

You got it for them and it’s theirs and they love it so he can shut it.

They’re never going to be the type of person who decorates a ton or sings carols while baking christmas cookies

But… they kinda like it when you do it.

It’s relaxing.

Domestic.

They could get used to this.

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