#i meant to sleep for an hour or two max but ended up passing out for four hours

[lesbianslovebts]

I'm autistic, and my brain can't filter and process sensory input well, so everything is Loud, and sounds trigger my chronic migraines, which makes everything Louder, which triggers another migraine, which...

#wednesdays are much more crowded and noisy at the office #today i ate the first half of my lunch with my noise cancelling headphones on but my boss came and sat down next to me with his lunch #i could only make out every other word he said and the rest of the cafeteria noise sounded like a jet engine #i got a migraine and took meds #but i was still overstimulated so i stimmed with a compression ring and a wooden keychain #there's a sharp pointy tip on the wood and i poke my fingertips with it #anyway i made it home and managed to eat before lying down #i meant to sleep for an hour or two max but ended up passing out for four hours #my brain completely shut off #i woke up at my normal bedtime so now my routine and body schedule is fucked up which. you guess it. triggers a migraine. #autism #migraine #actually autistic #llbtspost

[steddieas-shegoes]

For the requests! I present to you...

Eddie reacting to Steve in a crop top and super short shorts for the very first time ever as Steve's just minding his own business and doing the most mundane things ever 👀

Oh what FUN. I needed this prompt SO bad and I had fun with it. Honestly I relate to Eddie so much here: just completely feral over Steve in a crop top and shorts. Hope you enjoy! - Mickala ❤️

—————————————————————

Hawkins was hot during the summer, but that was nothing to the Florida heat.

Florida wasn’t Eddie’s idea, to be clear.

His idea was anywhere not south.

July was hot enough everywhere, why make it worse?

Apparently, he was the only one with common fucking sense.

But Steve insisted on a beach trip, and apparently the only beach that was sufficient for the kids was in Florida.

Eddie wasn’t built for this. He was pale, only owned long black jeans, and his hair stuck to his face and neck the moment he started to break a sweat.

But Steve was so excited and the kids were so excited and so Eddie was tolerating it.

Steve bought an actual RV.

When Max got out of the hospital, basically adopted her when her mom was nowhere to be found, he bought one, not too big, but big enough for everyone to have a space.

Robin took the couch, insisted on it, not sharing with anyone, not even Steve. El and Max took a bottom bunk, Dustin the other bottom bunk. Steve didn’t let Mike and Will share a bunk because he went full parent mode the second he saw them holding hands, so Will took one top bunk with Lucas and Mike took the other. Which left Steve obviously taking the queen bed in the back, and Eddie the bed with him or the floor.

So Eddie argues with himself for a week leading up to the whole long two day ride to Florida about sleeping on the floor, about maybe trying to bunk with Dustin, who kicks and snores like a grown man fighting in a boxing ring. Considered begging Mike to suck it up and share so he wouldn’t have to face what he’d been ignoring for six months now: that he was ass over head, disgustingly, write songs about him, in love with Steve Harrington.

He barely even talks to Steve, probably coming across as an asshole, but Robin covers for him, makes sure he’s given the space he needs to come to terms with the fact he has to share a bed with Steve on this journey.

By the end of the first day, he’d managed to come to terms with sharing a bed with him. A queen bed was big enough for space between them, he could wake up first so there’d be no chance of Steve seeing how hard he would be. He could make it work.

Making it work apparently meant not sleeping at all.

He didn’t even close his eyes. He felt every movement next to him, heard every breath Steve let out, every groan when he moved in a way that caused his healed but still sore bat bites to twinge.

He felt every twinge in his heart knowing that Steve was turned towards him, getting closer with every movement, and he had to ignore it.

He had to ignore it because if he didn’t, he’d turn around and pull Steve against him, play with his stupid, soft hair, and run his hand up and down his stupid, muscular, naked back.

So he was a bit tired on day two of their travels. Steve asked if he could drive for a couple hours so he could braid the girls’ hair. What was he supposed to say? No?

Not fucking likely.

So he drove, even though he was exhausted, and hadn’t drive an RV before in his life, and probably shouldn’t have been allowed near a real map for any reason other than passing it to someone else.

Robin, luckily, saw him struggling, and quickly made her way to the passenger seat to be navigator.

She didn’t say anything about it, she didn’t ask about his night, and she didn’t offer to trade sleeping spots with him. He tried not to be a little bitchy about it, but honestly, she was supposed to be Steve’s best friend, why couldn’t she sleep with him?

When Steve finally yelled to him to pull off the next exit to switch, he felt like he could breathe again.

Maybe he could take a nap in the bed since Steve was driving now.

But then Dustin wanted to talk about the campaign they’d do when they got to the campsite and Will got involved and then Mike had to add his (wrong) opinion about a trap that he was convinced Eddie would throw in. Eddie’s head was starting to hurt and they still had six hours to go.

Eddie managed to sneak away to the bedroom after they stopped for gas and lunch, slept for maybe 30 minutes, then got woken up by El, who wanted her nails painted to match her bathing suit and he couldn’t say no.

Of course, Max decided she wanted her nails painted too, and then Robin said she needed a touch up and didn’t trust herself to do it so Eddie got wrangled into painting everyone’s nails.

He barely even realized when they arrived.

But suddenly, Steve was standing next to him, smiling down at him, making Eddie want to die and also propose marriage at the same time.

“The kids are already running to the water. Wanna help me set up?”

Steve could have asked him to murder someone and he would, so he said yes.

“Cool, I’ll just change. Can you get the awning out and the chairs set up?”

“Yep, don’t take too long and make me do all the work.”

Steve laughed. Eddie laughed.

Eddie was serious, but if anyone could get away with making him do all the work, it was Steve.

So he got started on it all.

He watched Robin walking slowly towards where the kids were running along the water’s edge to keep an eye on them, all of them just a little nervous to let them out of their sights still.

He started turning the crank of the awning, already sweating from the heat and humidity, the breeze just blowing more hot air and sand at him.

He’d never been to the beach before, and he was quickly realizing why he didn’t mind that.

Once the awning was set, he opened the side compartment to pull out some of the camping chairs Steve bought for the occasion.

“Everything going okay?”

Eddie looked up to answer Steve and froze.

Steve had changed.

He’d changed into the shortest crop top Eddie had ever seen and a pair of shorts that his ass was going to pop out of the moment he bent over.

He couldn’t breathe.

Steve’s skin was just. There.

His scars, the scars that matched Eddie’s, were there.

Out in the open.

So much skin just happening right in front of Eddie’s eyes.

“Eddie? You okay? Need help?”

Eddie coughed, trying to hide the fact he was practically choking on his own spit.

“Good. I’m good. So good. Great.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, but he nodded.

“Okay, well I’m gonna hook up the plumbing and electric. Think you can get the hot dogs and buns out and start the fire for when the kids come back super hungry?”

Eddie knew he was asking him something, possibly something important, but he didn’t understand any of it. He nodded, though.

He watched Steve walk around to the other side of the RV.

So much skin.

Holy shit.

Eddie wanted to rip those clothes off of him. He wanted to taste the sweat that was dripping down his neck. He wanted to carry him back into the RV, lock the door, and fuck him into the mattress of the bed they had to share later.

He could do it. Robin would keep the kids busy. She’d understand.

But no. There was a reason he hadn’t acted on his feelings. There was a reason he’d been keeping his distance, making sure he was never alone with Steve.

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t notice when Steve came back around the corner, sweatier than before, his skin glistening in the sun.

God, this had to be illegal. This was a war crime. This was torture.

Survived almost being eaten alive by demon bats just to die in Florida watching Steve hook up an RV.

Sounds like a sick joke by the universe, but not that hard to believe considering his history.

“Eds? You good? You look like you need some water.”

Steve was walking up to him now, using the crop top to wipe his forehead, showing off even more skin. Jesus Christ.

“Maybe I do need to cool off. Um. Let me go inside and get some water. Great idea.”

Eddie was somehow making his legs work, rushing into the RV so he could get some space before he did something stupid like kiss Steve and tell him that he loves him.

But Steve was concerned, he should’ve known he would follow him inside.

“Eddie. Hey, just relax. The heat is a lot, maybe you should get your bathing suit on and just cool off a bit. I can handle the rest of this stuff,” Steve said as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the sink.

Must’ve got the water working then.

Steve, to Eddie’s horror and delight, sat down next to him and put his arm around him, handing him the glass of water with a worried look.

Eddie took it, ignoring the way his hands were shaking, hoping Steve would ignore it too.

He didn’t.

“Eddie, shit. You overdid it. I shouldn’t have had you helping out in that heat like that. You’re still technically healing.” Steve’s hand ghosted over where Eddie’s worst scars were on his sides. “I’m sorry. Just stay in here, I’ll get the AC going so it’s cool. You can change, maybe you’ll cool off faster.”

Eddie knew the problem wasn’t really the heat. And Steve wasn’t going to stop this.

Eddie was watching the way the crop top rode up the more Steve fretted over him, the way his thighs were fighting their way out of the shorts.

He had to tell him.

Eddie pulled away from him for a moment, took a really long look at the scar on Steve’s thigh that wasn’t Upside Down related, and then sighed.

“You’re killing me. The heat sucks, but it’s nothing compared to what you’re doing to me.”

That should’ve been where he stopped. But he didn’t.

“Stevie, you’re like, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. Like, hotter than Ozzy and James Hetfield combined. Which is crazy because you are nothing like them. You’re you. And like I’m me. And I’m really gay. If that wasn’t clear yet then now it is. I’m super gay. I’m also super into you. I know you’re not into guys, even if you were, you wouldn’t be into me. So like, I get that this is weird and you don’t even have to look at me for the rest of the trip. I’ll sleep on the floor or something. It’s just this outfit is sending me over the edge. I didn’t even know they made shorts that short. And that top? It’s breaking my brain. It’s leaking out of my ears.”

Steve was laughing by the end, which isn’t the worst thing that could be happening, but it certainly wasn’t the best.

“And I mean, when I say super into you, I don’t just mean stupid little high school crush. I mean like I’m in love with you. I love you entirely too much. Like, probably enough where I would be creeped out if someone loved me this much. So I think you should go back outside and let me just wallow in my self pity for a bit in here and then I’ll come back outside and pretend I didn’t just tell you the biggest secret I’ve been keeping for months.”

“Are you done?” Steve asked, no longer laughing, but smiling fondly at him.

Eddie nodded, worried that his outburst probably ruined everything.

But then Steve’s lips were on his, and his hands were in his hair, and his thighs were straddling his lap.

Eddie’s brain shut off and his body took over.

It wasn’t his first kiss by any means, but it was the first kiss with Steve Harrington, which made it more special by default.

He let his hands fall to Steve’s naked thighs, moaning into the kiss when he felt his muscles shift under his palms as he adjusted to a more comfortable position.

Steve pulled away and looked at him with droopy eyes.

“What were you thinking about out there? You were lost in your own world.”

“I was thinking about fucking you into the mattress of that bed while Robin distracts the kids.”

Steve groaned and kissed him again.

“Can we do that?”

Jesus. Steve was something else.

“Sweetheart, as much as I know you’d far surpass any fantasy I’ve had, the kids could be back any minute and we won’t have an explanation for them.”

“We don’t need an explanation if we just tell them the truth,” Steve pouted, trailing soft kisses down Eddie’s neck.

“So you wanna sit them all down and tell them their dad was fucking their mom into the mattress?”

Steve pulled away and smacked Eddie’s chest.

“No! I just figured we could say you needed a nap. Since you didn’t sleep last night.”

Eddie paled. How the fuck did Steve know that?

“Relax. I was asleep last night, it’s not like I was watching you struggle to keep distance between us. But I saw how tired you were this morning and Robin let it slip that you couldn’t get comfortable and made my assumptions.”

Eddie shook his head.

“Well then you’ll know I am actually tired. I probably could use that nap.”

Steve placed a quick kiss to his lips.

“Then you should take one. I’ll finish up outside.”

“Kinda want you with me though.”

“One of us has to be the responsible parent who sets everything up and gives the kids dinner.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie smirked. “This is like your ultimate fantasy isn’t it? Road trip with your kids and your partner?”

Steve blushed.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But I’m right! That’s why I love you, Stevie,” Eddie said before kissing his forehead. “I’ll come start the fire for the hot dogs. You stay away from me so I can focus.”

“Damn. I was gonna take off the shirt, though.”

Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I am begging you to keep it on.”

“Oh. Is this like a thing for you?” Steve teased.

“So what if it is?”

“Then I’ll keep it on and you can fuck me into the mattress with it on later. How’s that sound, big boy?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“Using my own words against me? Unbelievable.”

Steve shrugged and got off his lap, much to Eddie’s dismay.

“I’ll have Robin bring the kids on a night walk along the beach later. Sound okay?”

“Sweetheart, nothing’s ever sounded better.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #the party #ficlet #request #steve in a crop top and short shorts #it broke me picturing it and Eddie is long gone

[worldsokayestbabysitter]

My Top Ten Favorite Steddie Fics

These are in no particular order! Also, I had to paraphrase some of these summaries so the post wasn't two miles long. Please show these authors some love if you take the time to read these fics!

A Sign of The Morning by ToEdenandBackAgain - Vecna is dead. The Upside Down is cut off from Hawkins yet again. Steve is trying to go back to normal, whatever that is. He's also trying to figure out exactly how Eddie Munson has managed to fit so easily into his life.

more is all you need by wearing_tearing - Eddie holds on.

Bambi, can't you understand? by 19_empty_vacancies - “Even if you can’t get the words out, Steve, there’s no disguising the way you look at him. Have always looked at him. You walk around shooting him the big eyes like you’re Gomez Addams looking at Morticia, ready to pounce.”

“Oh God, do you think he ever noticed?”

Are You Healing? Are You Breaking? by odderstuff - 5 times Steve Harrington picked up the pieces for everyone else, and 1 time he had his own put back together.

Who the fuck reads to you in hell? by lichtbringer - "I wish it need not have happened in my time, said Frodo."

A breath, a pause. The telltale sound of a page being turned.

"So do I, said Gandalf, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

The voice is familiar but Eddie's mind is hazy. Is that…is that Steve?

Eddie takes a slow breath and to his relief, this time, the air flows freely. He isn't quite awake yet, but as he struggles to shake the fog in his mind, he only finds himself slipping further under. There is only a single thought capable of forming in his mind: Who the fuck reads you stories in hell?

Eddie’s pain is dull, far away, and as Steve continues to read, he doesn’t pass out. For the first time, Eddie fades away into sleep instead.

transfiguration's gonna come for me at last by thewestwinged - “So, like, what’s up with your mailbox?”

Trust Steve Harrington to waltz into your house, sprawl out on your armchair, and hit you with a whammy like that. Eddie pauses, midway through locking the door behind them. “What?”

“Your.” Steve fumbles. He gestures to nothing, lips pursed. “Y’know, the thing on the wall outside. You always touch it when you walk by. I thought it was maybe, like, a tiny mailbox? But now that I’m saying it out loud, that sounds… really stupid.”

(or, Eddie Munson and Judaism.)

The One in Which a Time Loop is Fucking Exhausting. by badpancake - The one where Steve Harrington is stuck in a time loop, and Eddie Munson is really fucking hard to save, or: fuck Volume 2, these bitches are in love.

don't imagine you're too familiar by asclepia - When Robin finally gets to the hospital, there are two things immediately wrong.

One, is that she’s here several hours after she meant to be. The second is that Steve Harrington isn't in a hospital bed.

OR, several moments at Hawkins Memorial Hospital post-battle.

the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it's you by greatunironic - Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?” Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth.

and i know that you don't, but if i ask you if you love me- by fakecharliebrown - Once, only a few weeks before his parents decide he’s too old to be tucked into bed at night, Steve grabs his mother by the wrist and asks, “Does Father love me?”

“Of course he does,” she says immediately, smoothing the blanket where it rests over his chest.

Steve blinks up at her. “Then how come he never says it?”

She purses her lips. “He shouldn’t have to, sweetheart. You should just know.”

(It isn’t until years down the line that Steve realizes she’d somehow turned that into being his fault.)

or; Steve Harrington through the years, on loving and being loved.

#fic recs #steddie #fic rec #fic rec list #aspeaks

[amor-immortalem]

A fic where Solomon is dissepointed on his daughters magical potions test results. So the wizard teaches her a few months.

It’s finally done! Sorry about the wait, friends... my life absolutely sucks, right now. Plus, this kinda turned into a lot more than what I meant it too...

Word count: 3.9k

Zulima knew she should have studied more for her magical potions final. She thought she’d had it down pat. She’d put in the long hours, staying up well past what she would consider an appropriate hour into the night cramming for this final with the notebook her father had jotted the formula for these potions down in when he’d first created them figuring she’d have a nice leg up on her classmates.

So why is there a big fat ‘F’ labeled on both the paper version and rubric for the practical portion of her final? And why was there a little note from the professor asking to see her after class? There had to be some kind of mistake. After all, Zulima, King Solomon the Wise’s daughter, doesn’t make mistakes when it comes to magical potions. This has to be someone else’s results.

As class comes to an end, the silver-haired half-demon rises from her seat. Her classmates are leaving to celebrate the last day of the term with lunch- classes were only in session for half a day today.

“Um… Professor… I think you handed me the wrong test results.” She lays the papers on the desk in front of the demon.

“No, I didn’t.” The professor peers down his nose at the papers, “Do you know why you failed, Miss Morningstar?” He looks back up at Zulima who shakes her head. “Every single one of these formulas is wrong. For two of them, you actually jumbled two different sets of ingredient lists together- had those been in the practical portion of my exam, you’d have blown this room sky high. You do this every test. I’ve been lenient with you so far only due to the fact that whatever potion you do end up making has the same intended effect as what I originally asked for but I can’t let it slide on a final.”

“Sir, please this can’t be my test. My father created most of these potions here and I studied his notes to where I could recite them in my sleep. There’s no way I could fail.”

“Did it ever occur to you that perhaps the formulas have been tweaked and changed over the years? If you’ve been only studying your father’s notes and not the notes I provided you, well you’re an intelligent individual- you can see how you would fail.”

“B-but-”

“No. No buts.” The Professor holds his hand up. “And none of your crocodile tears either. My grades are already finalized and submitted to the headmaster. Nothing can change them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way. I need a drink after your cousin nearly incited a brawl in my advanced applied potions class this morning.”

The professor escorts Zulima out before grabbing his briefcase and raincoat, locking the classroom door, and making a beeline for the exit.

・・・〆・・・

“What do you mean you failed?” Aurelius asks as he, Zulima, and Azalea all sit down to lunch at Hell’s Kitchen. “Even I passed and my ingredients weren’t even labeled for the first half of my practical exam…”

“My formulas on the written test were all wrong…” Zulima whines as she lays her head on the table, “What’s my dad gonna think? Especially if he finds out that I had been using the original formulas from when he first created them?”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Azalea suggests as she flips through her menu, “if it makes ya feel better, I flunked my potions final too…”

“I heard you got a B- because you almost started a fight.” Aurelius sighs, “That’s not the same as getting an F, Sis.”

“Shut up, I’m tryin’ ta make ‘er feel better. And to me, getting anything less than an A is the same thing…”

“As much as I appreciate the thought, Azalea, that doesn’t make me feel any better.” The silver-haired half-demon rests her cheek against her hand. “I’m going to get laughed at…”

“For what?” Max asks as she joins the table, a little out of breath. “Sorry I’m late- the P.E. Teacher made us run laps for our final today and then he yelled at me for being so out of shape as if that might make me run faster or something.”

“Zulima bombed her potions final,” the twins say in unison.

“Oh… I mean I flunked too. It’s not that big of a deal. There’s always next term, right?” The human offers.

“Yeah, I guess.” Zulima turns her champagne-colored eyes up at Max as the human takes a seat. “So where did you go wrong?”

“I caused a small explosion…”

・・・〆・・・

After lunch, the teenagers all split ways with the twins heading off to do their own thing while Zulima and Max headed off for some shopping for Max’s upcoming trip to the human world. They were partway through picking out some outfits to try on when Zulima’s phone beeped with a text from Asmo.

“Come home as soon as you can! Your father and I would like to talk with you?” She read the text aloud, “Oh no…”

“Oh no, what?” The human looks over her shoulder at the text. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?!” The half-demon squeaks, “My father came back early from the human world! How is that not bad, Max?!”

“Maybe Mr. Solomon just missed the Devildom and he doesn’t know about your bombed final yet… c’mon Zul, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who screams and yells over one bad test. I think you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but there’s something else…” Zulima chews her lip nervously, “I kind of took all of his notes that he took on each potion he created without permission… as a way to get a leg up on my classmates after I managed to get a look at the exam questions. I also may be in possession of some of his spell books that he definitely doesn’t want me to have at my current skill level…”

“There it is…” the blue-eyed human sighs, “I’d say you dug yourself into a hole with that one.”

“See! I’m in so much trouble…”

“But staying out too long after you’ve already been asked to come home is only going to get you in even more trouble. Didn’t you learn anything from that time Aurelius stayed out to avoid getting in trouble with your Aunt and Uncle? It’s best that you just bite the bullet so to speak… if it makes you feel better, I’ll go with you to your dads’ house.”

The girls start placing the outfits back on the shelves and racks before they eventually make their way back to Zulima’s childhood home.

・・・〆・・・

“Well, what can I say, Solomon? She’s her parent’s daughter.” Asmo is unconcerned with the tall stack of spell books sitting on the kitchen counter. “If I would have had such easy access to your potion formulas, I would have done the same thing.”

“The point is that she shouldn’t be going into my home office where I keep all of my magical items and supplies. I have things in there that, if not handled correctly, could seriously harm Zulima or at the very least maim her.” The sorcerer sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “What’s more, she cheated on a final so now every single test from the term is being reviewed for evidence of cheating as well. She could very well have to repeat the class.”

“While I agree with you about the snooping around in your magic stuff, I still don’t see the problem with the cheating.” The demon shrugs nonchalantly, “But if you’re that pressed about it, then we can just ground her and take away her phone and computer until the start of the new term.”

As the sorcerer goes to respond the front door opens up. Zulima and Max have made it home.

“My baby’s home!” Asmo exclaims as they wrap the silver-haired girl up in their arms, “How was your last day of school? And yours too, Max?”

“It was okay…” both girls say before Zulima is returning the hug. “So… what did you and Dad want to talk to me about?”

“I think you already know…” Solomon says as he leans against the kitchen’s doorframe, waving both a copy of her failed final and one of the six spell books he’d confiscated from the teen’s room when he had taken her laundry up earlier. “If you’re going to steal from me, at least don’t leave them where they can be easily seen.”

“You’re not mad at me are you?”

“Oh honey no,” the Avatar of Lust starts, “we’re not mad at you… it's more like…”

“I’m more disappointed in you than I am angry.” The sorcerer frowns. “Rumor has it you even knew what was on the test beforehand and you still couldn’t pass… Not what I’d expect from one of my children. If it had been seductive speechcraft or history or law or anything else, I might be just a tad less disappointed but potions?”

“I’m sorry,” the half-demon bows abruptly, “I thought maybe if I gave the original formulas for every one of the potions you created, the professor would be impressed and give me extra credit.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you attempted to cheat.” Asmo says, “but I can’t blame you, I’d have done the same thing without remorse.”

“So… does that mean I’m not in trouble?”

“Oh no, dear,” the silver-haired human chuckled slightly, “Your phone and computer will be confiscated until the end of the school break. And to add on to that, you’ll be spending the break with me and Max up in the mortal realm- we’ll work on your knowledge of potions while you’re up there to prevent something like this,” he motions to the test papers in his hand, “from happening again.”

“The human world?!” Zulima’s eyes lit up. “It's been ages since I’ve gone. Did the human governments ever get that whole ‘cult’ thing ironed out?”

“It's not going to be a vacation, Dear.” Asmo had to be the one to burst her bubble. “And I don't think 5 years quite qualifies as ages...” there’s a slight chuckle in the demon’s voice.

“No, they haven't but those organizations haven't been exactly going after the witches and sorcerers that live there anymore either...” Solomon hums, “so I’d say it's about as good a time as any to start allowing you all back up there... You’ll be supervised by me on any outings you might have so you’ll be safe either way.” There’s a sort of half-shrug the sorcerer does that’s none too reassuring.

“Well, I’ll get packing then,” is all Zulima says in return before she’s looping her arm with Max’s and dragging the human off to her bedroom.

・・・〆・・・

“Hold on, I think I need a moment...” The teen clutches at the side of the dining room table. “The room feels like it's spinning...”

Max, Solomon, and Zulima had been in the human world for all of maybe five minutes, having just come through the portal, before the future Avatar of Lust decided to put on the dramatics. Her father can only roll his eyes at her display.

“You’ll be fine, Zulima.” The sorcerer reassures her, “Just take a seat and it’ll wear off in no time. You're just not used to portal travel.”

The teen is skeptical at best but takes a seat at the dining room table like she was instructed to. When she sees Max is not affected in the same way she is, maybe her father’s words start to hold a little more truth to them. After a few minutes, the silver-haired half-demon lets out a quiet sigh as the dizziness starts to disappear.

Feeling much better, Zulima stands and shoulders her bag as her father moves a curtain to the side and peeks out the window. It was the dead of night, indicated by the dark blackish-blue, starry sky.

“So, when do we get started?” Max flicks on the kitchen light as she places her bag of the countertop.

“We’ll start tomorrow afternoon...” Solomon closes the curtains, “I still have to secure the house- make sure there are no surprise guests hiding around. You can never be too safe considering all the recent issues that have come up within the past fifteen years...”

Both girls nod as Solomon walks off, leaving the pair to their own devices.

・・・〆・・・

Once the house had been secured and protective sigils placed down on the exterior doors and windows, everyone had gone off to bed. Okay, maybe not everyone, as Solomon was the only one still awake at this ungodly hour. He busied himself with devising various potions for the girls to work with. It was clear from the recent school term that they both still struggled with formulas. As he looks out the window, Solomon thinks about whether it would be better to start with memorization of formulas or to start from a more practical experience and work backwards from there.

Wanting to keep the house on its foundation, the sorcerer decides maybe it’s best that he go back to basics with them. Start with the formulas and once they both can flawlessly recite the formula to him only then can they move on to mixing the ingredients together.

・・・〆・・・

By the time, he decides on a list of potions, the sun is nearly risen.

“This is fine... now to check on my ration of supplies.” He makes his way down to the cellar where he keeps a nice little stash of preserved Devildom flora. “Looks like I’ll need to get my hands on some more Wolfsbane, Hellfire Newt Extract, Bloodmoon Drop pollen... I’m out of a whole lot more than I thought I was...”

A crash from the ground level draws Solomon’s attention. As he makes his way out of the cellar the smell of something burning makes him move just a little bit quicker.

“You have to be more careful, Zulima.” He hears Max scolding the half-demon. “You dropped hot sauce all over the stove and counter.”

“Sorry... It slipped...” Zulima grumbles as she cleans up the messy counter and the cabinet doors where the sauce had dripped down. “It’s not like I meant to drop it, you know.”

“It slipped because you were doing stupid tricks with the bottle. This isn’t home where glass bottles are super durable to accommodate for demon strength... Glass is more fragile here.”

Nothing more is between the teenagers and Solomon slinks back down into the cellar to finish his inventory. If he had to go shopping anyway might as well stock up.

・・・〆・・・

After breakfast is finished being cooked, Solomon reemerges from the cellar with his list of ingredients.

“Morning, sir,” the black-haired human says, “We thought you were still sleeping so Zulima just went to wake you up.”

“Good morning,” He smiles back politely, “I didn’t sleep actually. I was inventorying my potion ingredients- we have quite a few supplies to get from the magical district, so we’ll leave as soon as breakfast is over. If I may ask, what did you two make that required hot sauce to be used?”

“Just a spicey omelet- it was my Abuela’s recipe,” Max shrugs. “We made you a plate as well.” She pulls the dish out of the oven where it had been keeping warm and put it on the table as Zulima joined them.

“Oh, there you are...” There’s surprise in her champagne-colored eyes, “Where were you? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I was in the cellar. I had to take stock of all my ingredients to see which ones I needed to go shopping for this morning. You two go get dressed and I’ll take care of the dishes once I finish eating.”

The girls both nod as they head off for the bedrooms they’d taken up for the trip.

After an uneventful morning of shopping for supplies, the three of them finally make it back to the house. As the sorcerer sets the ingredients down on the table, he snaps his fingers and two note books appear along with a pencil for both of them so they can take notes.

“Get ready, you two. We’ll be starting from basics, and we’ll work our way up from there.”

・・・〆・・・

After three weeks of drilling the most basic formulas into both his apprentice’s and his daughter’s heads, they still weren’t getting any closer to being able to recite the formulas from memory. They only had a week left until the start of the new school term and this whole trip was starting to feel like a waste. Perhaps there was something wrong with the way he was teaching the formulas? None of his other apprentices had ever had this level of difficulty with his method of teaching even the simplest potions.

As the trio breaks for the night, Solomon returns to his room. What was he missing? Maybe it wouldn’t help to consult the one former apprentice he was still on relatively good terms with. Pulling his D.D.D. off its charger, the silver-haired immortal dials up his human friend. It should still be early enough back in the Devildom that he wouldn’t be disturbing her. The line rings once, twice, thrice and Solomon is about to hang up when Arella answers.

“Hey, what’s up?” her voice is quiet- she must’ve just put her youngest down for bed, Solomon figures.

“I had a question for you... bad time?” He asks.

“Not really.” She chirps back and the sorcerer can hear the soft sound of a closing door and the chirping of crickets, “Just put Mahlon down for the night and you know he’s such a light sleeper unlike the rest of my children. Anyway, what’s your question?”

“Do you have any alternative methods of teaching potions? Both Max and Zulima did so horribly on their final for last term that I brought them both up to the human realm to work on that with them but even after going back to basics and starting with just simple formulas with them, they’re still just not getting it. I remember Aurelius had trouble with potions for quite some time up until just recently and I wanted to pick your brain about what you did to help him.”

“Honestly, I don’t have an answer for you.” She shrugs, “The only reason Aurelius had the amount of trouble he did with potions in previous terms was due to his achromatopsia. His professors wanted him to be able to mix together a potion using ingredients based solely on their color. After Mammon and I found out about that we pushed for the accommodation to be made that all of his ingredients be clearly labeled during in class experiments and practical exams. After that, his grades have been fine.”

“So that’s what it was...” Solomon makes a humming noise, “Thanks, then. That’s all I needed. I’ll let you get on with your night. Good night, Arella.”

“Night, Solomon.”

The pair hangs up and it just leaves the immortal back at the drawing board.

“Maybe if I turned it into a game- I know after a while lectures can get boring... Max already has concentration issues as it is. Zulima also doesn’t tend to do well if she sits for long periods of time without having a chance to participate in practical exercises...”

The sorcerer thinks long and hard about what he can do to help the teens.

・・・〆・・・

“We have to get this right,” Zulima groans as she runs a hand through her silver hair, “Dad’s starting to get frustrated with the lack of progress and frankly so am I...”

“We have all night- this trip only lasts until Friday and it’s already Monday... We have to make tonight count. I feel like a lost cause- I should be able to memorize these stupid ingredients lists... Now, how much Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup do you add to a genuine love potion?”

“Trick question!” The half-demon replies, “You don’t add any at all to a genuine love potion. Adding Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup turns the whole potion into a powerful aphrodisiac. You should instead use 1/8th of an ounce of your targets tears and 1/4th of an ounce of your own to bind the connection.”

“That’s right. Now what about a truth potion?”

The future Avatar of Lust thinks for a moment. Was it dragon’s claw? No that didn’t sound right… what about wolfsbane? No that’s not it either. With a shrug of her shoulders, Zulima sighs.

“I don’t know… I’m tired…”

“Me too,” Max comments, putting away her notebook. “Let’s just sleep on it, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

And with that the girls are curling up into their respective beds for the night.

・・・〆・・・

Day by day, they inch closer and closer to the end of their break in the human world. Things were starting to look up in Solomon’s opinion. While they weren’t perfect 100 percents, the pop quiz he’d given the girls were at least better than their scores from the final. And just in the nick of time too it seems.

“So…” Zulima’s the first to speak up as Solomon’s pondering over the quizzes in front of him. “How’d we do?”

“You passed… not with a perfect 100 like I was hoping for but a 70 will do for now. We’ll continue working on potions over the coming months together but at least now I feel confident that you two won’t make complete fools out of yourselves in class.”

The girls have a small celebratory moment before Solomon clears his throat.

“I wouldn’t celebrate just yet. I know the two of you can produce better results, it just so happens that we’re out of time up here. Next week, after you both settle in from the back to school festivities, I’ll test you again and I expect better results.” He watches as the pair of teens nod. “That being said, this is the last day of our trip. We should do something fun to celebrate all the hard work you two have been doing.”

“Let’s go out into town!” Zulima’s the first to speak up. “I want to see what normal human cities are like.”

“We could go see a movie or something?” Max offers, “I think you’ll be disappointed if you just want to go into a human city and treat it like a zoo… I mean human cities aren’t all that different from the Devildom’s capital city.”

“It’s gotta be just a little different though, right? Like, I want to see the adaptations normal humans have for things we would use magic for instead.”

Both Max and Solomon share the same skeptical look but don’t say anything to discourage the teenager.

“Any more objections?” She waits for a moment, a big smile breaking out on her face when both her father and his apprentice shake their heads. “Alright, let’s gooooo!”

With a fist in the air, Zulima takes off with Max following behind her and Solomon can only let outa small chuckle as he shakes his head at his daughter’s enthusiasm.

・・・〆・・・

End

#obey me kids #obey me next gen #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date? #obey me solomon #om! solomon #obey me asmodeus #om! asmodeus #obey me asmo #om! asmo #obey me next gen oc #zulima #azalea #aurelius #max

[flatstarcarcosa]

thought up a fic to go w the idea but then i sat down and my brain blue screened but. the concept of like. the first time eddie sees me without my glasses it’s bc i came to work sick as fuck and was just trying to Make It Through. i drop a glass, which makes him like [mgs alert tone], and when i bend down to start getting the pieces i stand back up too quick.

i realize as soon as i come back up i just did that too fast, and eddie’s seen enough people about to drop in his life to know what it looks like, and he just reaches across the bar to grab me before i end up slamming my head into the back counter or something.

there’s a few seconds where i’m not out but everything is stars and popping in my vision. he comes around the bar, somehow almost impossibly large enough to keep a hand on me as he does, and then just plucks my glasses right off my face and drops them on the bar.

if i were anyone else, the bags under my eyes and the glaze over them would make him think i was tripping on the clock, and he’d be counting himself out a bartender. he knows a bit of my history by this point, the few things i’ve brought up, usually as jokes, and knows that that’s not it.

whatever i may do or not do in my own time doesn’t concern him, he knows i don’t do it on his clock. bartenders having a drink or two on the clock with customers isn’t illegal in steelport, and there’s a fair share of other employees at the 3 count that indulge.

but i don’t.

i’m the only one that made my own alcoholism into an almost running gag, and he’s never seen me drink in the whole time he’s known me. at this point, of course, he’s mostly seen me at work and on the clock, and the couple times i wasn’t on the clock was because it was either right before or right after a shift, but still.

i tell him i’m fine, i’m just tired and didn’t feel hungry so i hadn’t eaten all day, and he knows that it’s bullshit, but he also knows it’s not...really his business.

he still can’t run a casino if his bartenders are passing out, in any case, and tells me to go home. go home, and take tomorrow too.

he doesn’t make it a habit to memorize employee schedules, despite being the one who makes them, but i’m the only one who works 4 10s. it was the only request when i got hired. i knock out my 40 hours in a 4 day weekend. friday to monday, which allows for any major holidays. normally he wouldn’t have gone for it, but finding people to work nights and weekends and weekend nights is a goddamn struggle, and if i don’t have anything better to do with my fridays and saturdays, he’ll take it.

i tell him i can’t afford to miss a day and a half of work and he tells me it’s fine, he’ll just attach my PTO on the back end.

to which i say, “i have PTO?”

because i’ve worked many jobs, and none of them ever had benefits. he tells me not only do i have PTO, as i’ve been there for almost two years now, i have enough PTO where i could take an entire month off and not only would he have to pay me for it, i’d still have some leftover.

to which he adds, “that reminds me, i meant to tell you you’re about to max it out and if you don’t use it or request it just cashed out it finally expires.”

i put my glasses back on. i go home. i walk the dog. i battle the roaches in my kitchen before losing one under the stove triggers me into an exhaustion and sickness induced melt down. it’s not an emergent one, but i end up sitting on the floor of the living room covered in snot and hiccuping while the dog tries to burrow into the armpit of my shirt.

i manage to make rice, and i give some of it to the dog with his food before i season it. i drink a soda, and a bottle of water and i take a handful of meds, picking out the ones i need almost by muscle memory alone.

i fall asleep on the couch, wake up two hours later and fumble into the bed. i sleep.

i wake up 16 hours later, and i text eddie, asking to use some of that PTO for the following week.

he texts back, “use some of it and your insurance to go to a goddamn doctor.”

he follows up with, “do not tell me you didn’t know you have health insurance.”

#txt.txt #reesebane #long post

[meadowing]

The great unraveling

“Come on Meli, we’ve got to try it out. It sounds AMAZING!”

She really liked this new guy. It was hard to find someone that really meant what they say, and she’d found it in Marc. He was a bit of a dolt, and liked exploring with v-drugs, but that didn’t matter. He hadn’t asked her out on a date date yet. She hoped he’ll do so soon; Amy told her that he told Max he really liked her.

“Jules did it last week and hasn’t stopped talking about it. She says it’s completely different from any of the other rides. She told me that she lived among elves deep in the woods for a whole day! A whole day, so lucky, the most I’ve gotten is 6 hours.”

V-drugs, often the entertainment of choice of many of the undercity’s residents. A mixture of pharmacos, and VR tech that produced experiences unlike any that you can experience in your normal life. Completely safe, without risk of addiction, and all effects would end after you got up from the pod. At least that’s what the promotional content said. They had been around for a while, from before she was born in fact, but for a series of reasons had only recently become hugely popular. The new demand fostered competition, caused prices to drop, and quality had improven drastically.

She wasn’t much for v-drugs though. Getting hooked up to a bunch of tech and having your reality stolen away from you for a while just wasn’t worth the effort. But this one intrigued her; she had no recollections of one being so frequently recommended. And, she did really like him, and didn’t want him to think she was uncool.

He had been pestering her for a while now about doing this together. She knew she will eventually give in, before he decided to ask someone else.

“Alright. Let’s do it.”

She had had her fair share of v-drugs experiences, mainly doing them with friends. She knew that for her it worked best not to think too much about it and just do it. If she stopped to think she would end up talking herself out of it, and Marc wouldn’t like that.

They turned around and walked back towards the clean, white store; one of many in the alley they where walking in. They had already passed it enough time ago for the other late night walkers to almost completely obscure it from view.

She felt her heart pounding as they walked nearer. V-drugs were not unpleasant, they were actually quite enjoyable most of the time. She was always apprehensive before one though. Convincing your mind that it’s ok for it stop existing for a while was something hard to do. She imagined this is how people who like extreme sports feel before bungee jumping from an orbital balloon.

“Kepeken” read the incandescent white neon sign on the top of the store. The bright light reflected on Marc’s eyes and grin. The light smoothed his features, making him look younger somehow. Was it the light, or was it his excitement? … She really liked him.

“Ah! A young couple, welcome! Here to try out our new V412 I gather?” said the young clerk behind the bone white counter. He was wearing a solid-black blazer with a striped white shirt underneath. The deep black contrasted beautifully with the titanium white of the rest of the store. Very stylish. “You came right in time, two of the pods have just become available”.

There were six white plastic pods, three against each wall. Four customers lied in the ones farthest away from the storefront, their heads toward the walls and their feet pointing to the counter in the middle. The customers also contrasted with the rest of the store, but in a different way than the clerk. Some were your average street rat, others looked like they just got out of bed and didn’t bother to dress up. There was one who was clearly a businessman, probably here for some distraction after a long day at work. They all had one thing in common though, the steady rhythm of their chests rising and falling, as if in a deep sleep.

“Yes sir! We’ve heard so much about it! Tell me, is it really so different from your other products?” Marc said. “Oh yes”, answered the clerk, his grin growing with every word, “it’s completely revolutionary. I would say it’s as different as one of those old 2d movies is from an immersive projection. Completely different. And oh, so realistic you wouldn’t believe!” he said this last with a wink.

Marc gave a little jump of excitement, his grin could not grow anymore so his eyes started taking on the job. Meli felt a flutter in her stomach. Was it fear, or was it apprehension, or excitement? Maybe all of them.

“All right! Well, I’ll need you to pay here sir.”

“Thank you, now you miss, please.”

“Perfect! We’re ready to go then! Shana and Lana here will take you to your pods and get you hooked in. See you in a bit”, another wink. Two women dressed in white, presumable Shana and Lana, walked in from a door at the back of the store.

After a brief squeeze of their intertwined hands they were both led away in opposite directions. Shana walked behind Marc who was skipping with excitement towards the free pod on the left wall. Lana walked in front of Meli, to the one on the right. Meli would have liked for the pods to be next to each other, even though she knew this wouldn’t make any real difference once she went under.

She looked back, towards Marc who was already starting to lie down on the pod even before Shana reached it. Lana on the other hand was already preparing things for her. Through the big storefront window she saw it was starting to drizzle, the many night walkers quickening their pace to get out of the rain. Nobody glanced in her direction.

She reached her pod. One last glance back: Marc was already hooked up and ready to go. He was looking at her and smiled reassuringly, then closed his eyes and Shana stepped between them. Meli turned back to her pod and, as instructed by Lana, lied down.

The usual preparations were taken. An Osmotic-IV was placed against her left forearm, and another on her right. Gloves were placed on her hands and responsive pressure pads on her legs, arms, shoulders, breasts, and abdomen. Lana was not what you would describe as chatty, but she provided a comforting presence during the preparation process, talking about small things: the weather, complimented her on her skin, and discussing what plans her and Marc had after their ride.

The time finally came.

“Okay honey, take a deep breath and count from 10 backwards.”

She closed her eyes.

Breathe in.. 10.. 9.. 8..

This part usually was the worse. The suspense.

Breath out.. 7.. 6..

She didn’t know who or what she was. She didn’t know where she was. It was dark and warm, and it felt extremely safe, but she knew she needed to get out of there. Now.

She pushed.

Her hands and arms, felt constrained, felt wrong, weirdly shaped and hard to control.

She pushed again.

She felt her head squeezing.

She pushed.

Impossible compression, impossible to think. Her head...

One final push.

“Whaaaaaa!!! Whaaaa!” her body cried, she cried, the whole universe cried with her. “Whaaa!!” light all of a sudden surrounded her, and cold, oh so cold. One though dominated her mind, indescribable in words, a feeling of sucking, and rooting for a warm safe place.

“Congratulations Ms and Mr Conrad, it’s a boy!”

“Oh John! Bring it over here so I can see it. He’s perfect” she cried while the babe found her tit, both mother and baby exhausted beyond words.

“It is perfect Mary, and so are you. I can’t believe how strong you are”

“What should we call him?”

“What about Peter?”

“Like my grandfather? Oh John, I love it”

They both cried.

And so, the life of Peter Conrad began. He grew up into being an agreeable toddler, considerate with others. As a kid, he liked reading and stuffy libraries. His mother died in a car crash when he was a young man. He went to college, studied history. Married a nice young lady by the name of Simone de’Lau, whom he met at university, she was an exchange student in the STEM department. They had a daughter which they called Mary, in memory of his mother. He got tenure as a history professor. They had a son, whom they named Arnold. He took his children to visit his father, John, every week, often more than once a week. His children left for college. His father died of old age. Peter and Simone retired to a nice country house where they had some chickens, a cow named Lucy, and a garden. His daughter, Mary, gave birth to a couple of twins. They where all very close and came to visit often.

Eventually Peter got old, very old. He’d had a wonderful, loving life, and couldn’t have asked for more. Lying in bed, he suddenly realized he was dying. As the darkness was starting to envelop him, he felt a light growing within him, ever so faint and weaker in appearance than the darkness, but much more present.

While his mind was observing the interplay of dark and light he noticed a corner of his mind, of his thoughts, which seemed so familiar but forgotten. As his mind touched it, it all came back, as a dream suddenly remembered all at once. He remembered his real name was Meli, and he was watching his own life through a VR-enabled drug from the future. Peter died, the light consuming him completely.

After floating briefly in a luminous universe, the light slowly resolved itself, and she was seeing the white roof of the store. She felt her pod, the warm padding under her, the pressure pads enveloping her. She lied there, wondering if all of this had been real, and decided to accept it as such. After all, it had felt just as real as she did right now, and who could say if this, right now, was indeed the same as what she had just experienced, with a separate higher-self experiencing her current life. As she thought this, like a tongue searching for a tooth that is no longer there, her mind went to that corner that she had noticed while she was dying as Peter, the corner where she remembered. It was still there.

He opened his eyes. The brightness of the sun above temporarily blinded him. He was thankful for the shade of the tree against which he was resting. The sky clear, the sun shining on the fields of golden wheat below, ripe, a week away from the harvest. As a monk, he had finished his chores for the day and was spending the rest of his time in contemplation. What was it that he had just experienced? A life, within a life. Could it be? He probed for the corner. It was still there.

She woke up, lying on the sand in the Mexican desert at night. The stars impossibly crisp, like pinpricks in the black dome above. She looked around, moving felt strange. There was a campfire nearby. Other people. Someone beating on a drum and singing a slow, rhythmic song. She remembered, she had been participating in a Peyote ceremony. Nested lives, one within the other, forever, on and on. She closed her eyes once more. A recursive chain of lives. The pinpricks in the sky little windows through which she was seeing her other lives, and they were seeing her. A corner in her mind. Sill there.

He was dying. No body. Not anymore. The other lives had started just before the moment of death. And now? And now he remembered the corner. Still there…

#short story #my writing #writeblr

[cupidsintern]

oho i would love to hear about that second one please please (and ill post a pic of my bellbottoms tomorrow lol)

its my virgin!billy fic. ill just give u some of it lmao:

the other night i cried (while thinking of having sex with you) pt. 1

Billy prayed for this. 

Like, actually honest to god prayed- but in his defense he had been super drunk at the time. Drunk and crying. Alone. In his room. 

One of his lower points. Definitely not the lowest. 

And he hadn't put his hands together- but he was sort of sitting on his knees. Kind of. 

And he’d tilted his head up to his god-forsaken popcorn plastered ceiling and blinked a couple times and closed his eyes and thought:

Please let me lose my virginity to Steve Harrington. 

Shoot for the stars, right?

It had been one of those nights where he'd been at one of those parties and ended up in a room alone with one of those girls and she’d started pawing her way up his leg and he bolted. 

Very subtly bolted. But still. 

Made him feel sick. He took two showers. 

Maybe he would have felt better if he could have just like, stared himself down in the bathroom mirror and whispered ‘what's wrong with you?’. But he knew. 

Then he’d prayed. 

Then he’d fallen asleep and been hungover at breakfast and was sure his dad would notice- but he didn’t- so maybe even if his prayers weren’t gonna be answered, whatever Higher Power there was, was still cutting him some slack today. On a random Saturday. Rather than literally any other day he could have used a deus ex machina.

Nobody knew Billy was a virgin. I mean technically, some of his old friends knew, back home. But they were usually cool about it, because why wouldn't you be if you'd been friends for someone that long. But no one here knew. And thank god because being 18 and still being ‘inexperienced’ would get you endless shit but they didn't. Mostly because they had no way of finding out. Billy could have bagged loads of chicks back on the gold coast and no one doubted that. 

And it wasn't like Billy’d never gotten hot and heavy with anyone. It was just that. None of those people were. You know. Girls. 

Nobody he could actually talk about. Especially now. Even if he had friends other than fair-weather lackeys. 

And. You know. Steve.

Billy would never say he was friends with Steve outright, just because it seemed like one of those things that if you verbally confirmed it, then it would stop being true. Because he kind of couldn't believe that it was. 

It was Max’s fault for making him apologize. She said she didn't want Billy and her to keep fighting so much, that she missed being friends, and it was like pulling teeth but he asked what he could do to make amends. She said to apologize to Lucas, then apologize to Steve. Billy did that. 

Then Steve wouldn't leave him alone. 

And it wasn't like he could keep pretending to hate Steve- he'd taken that way too far. Couldn’t exactly pull Steve aside and say “Look I know you're trying to be nice but if you don’t leave me alone I’ll start being queer about it and I can’t let that happen again.”

So Steve kept being nice.

And Billy got kinda queer about it.

He really tried not to. Honest he did. But then again maybe he didn't. Because Steve smelled like department store Christmas and if he bought a two pack of lighters he always gave Billy the second one. He’d walk over sit with Billy at lunch and always say “this seat taken?” even if there was no one else around like it was a cheesy sitcom and he was just waiting for the laugh track to kick in.

Then it got to the point that if Billy tried to avoid Steve, Steve would track him down and ask if he was okay.

“You okay, man?”

Wasn't always ‘man,’ either. Sometimes it was “California” or “Bills” or even one time “tiger,” and that shit knocked Billy out. Pulled the rug right out from under him but- “Yeah, Harrington. I’m fine. Just getting some air.”

Billy asked Max what the fuck she’d told Steve about Billys life. She said if he wanted to ask her something he couldn't just barge into her room he had to knock first so he had to leave her room, close the door, knock, and wait for her to say “yeah” to open the door again and “For the second time, Maxine. What did you tell Harrington about me.”

“Nothing,” She was being honest too. “I didn't tell him anything, weirdo. I think he just wants to be friends.”

Friends.

Which was maybe worse than enemies.

Because it meant the sad, sad reality that Billy was just some incognito perv that didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of sleeping with Steve Harrington was made even more apparent.

Then came the ‘let’s hangout’s.

Steve started asking Billy if he wanted to hang out outside of school. Like go for lunch, then maybe ditch school after lunch, just not go back and drive around for a while. Then just ditch a day of school altogether and walk around downtown. Then spend an entire school holiday walking around downtown, chasing pigeons off the sidewalk and window shopping and spending a whole two hours in the one and only record shop trying to track down a tape Steve said he remembered having in the 8th grade.

Then-

“Hey! Bills, slow down,” Steve was trying to catch up to Billy in the hall.

Billy caught a whiff of hairspray and the Cleanest Woods You'd Ever Stick Your Nose In before he even turned his head.

“What are you doing after school tomorrow?” “Light arson. Why do you ask?”

Steve smiled. “You could do some light arson at my house. Sure I have some old homework you could burn.”

Billy wanted very badly to tell Steve that ‘that is not what arson is’. But he was still kind of hung up on being invited to Steve’s house. Steve’s illusive, gigantic house to which he had never been but always secretly wanted to go.

“I’m more of a book burning guy.” Billy smiled back- couldn't help himself. “Get me your address in third tomorrow, yeah?”

Steve’s smile got wider. “Sick.”

Billy got Steve’s address passed to him by the platinum blonde that sat next to him in third period. She teased the shiny strands all to hell every morning but there were always halfway to flat by 10am. She flicked the note onto his desk kind of carelessly, which Billy hated because didn't she know it was precious cargo? But also he didn't care because it wasn't a big deal going to Harrington’s house anyway.

Steve had drawn little stars around his house address. Like it was some big Destination.

What a dork. Billy traced his finger over one of the stars before shoving the note in his pocket.

-

pt. 2 maybe coming soon???

#harringrove fanfic #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #my fic #billy x steve #steve x billy

[pastelwitchling]

Journey to the Past

read on ao3

This was meant to be part of my one-shot collection, it turned out to be too long, and now it’s a separate fic. If you enjoy reading even a little bit, please comment and share/reblog, it always makes the world of a difference ❤

Michael woke to find he’d fallen asleep at Alex’s bedside. Before anything, he sat up, checked to see if Alex’s eyes hadn’t fluttered, if he wasn’t finally waking from his coma, but his hand remained perfectly still in Michael’s, the heart monitor echoed steadily into the otherwise empty room and echoing off Max’s bedroom walls.

They would’ve taken him to the hospital, but since the attack that did this to him had been by his father’s rogue Project Shepherd agents, they couldn’t risk leaving him in a room that any enemy could access. At least here, Isobel and Michael could set up forcefields around the grounds. At least here, Max could strike anybody that came too close with lightning and they could blame it on the weather. At least here, Michael could cling to Alex and no one would bother him about it.

Michael wasn’t Alex’s boyfriend, he knew. Alex’s actual boyfriend – or his ex, that is, as of two weeks ago – was back in New York, unaware that the man he’d fallen so deeply and treacherously in love with had fallen victim to his father’s pissed off and ridiculously loyal minions.

Michael followed the bruises on Alex’s jaw and cheeks with his eyes, the cut on his lower lip, visible under the thick respirator. There was a stitched up gash in his forehead, and his knuckles on his right hand were scraped and bloody from the fight he’d given the attackers. He’d fended most of them off, before Michael had arrived to blow the rest of them into the walls and knock them out, but not before one of them had managed a stray shot in and got Alex in the stomach.

Max had done his best to heal him, but the bullets had been laced with yellow pollen. Jesse Manes’ last attempt to kill his youngest son, apparently, had followed him out the grave.

Michael shut his eyes against the thought, and instinctively gripped Alex’s hand tighter. He didn’t want to think about Project Shepherd and what they’d intended. They’d failed, and that was all that mattered. His grip turned painful on Alex’s hand. They’d failed.

A knock came at the door, but Michael did not look away from Alex’s face. He heard Max’s voice from the end of the room ask, “How’re you holding up?”

“Why isn’t he awake yet?” Michael demanded. “You said he’d be awake by now.”

“No,” Max sighed, and closed the door behind him. “I said Kyle hoped he’d be awake by now.”

“It’s been two days.”

“We’re doing everything we can –”

“Well, it’s not enough!” Michael snapped, and the room collapsed back into silence.

“He’ll wake up,” Max promised him. “He will. Just give him some time.”

“I need him,” Michael whispered.

“I know –”

“No,” he growled. “I need him.” He rubbed his face roughly with one hand. “Where’s Is?”

“Outside,” he said. “Why?” When Michael didn’t answer, Max’s shoulders slumped and his frown deepened. “Michael, no.”

“I know we said there were risks –”

“Risks?” he scoffed. “I already told you it’s too dangerous to go digging through Alex’s head! Isobel told you it’s dangerous!”

Michael stood. “Valenti said his brain waves are normal, he’s just asleep. If I can find the part of him that doesn’t want to wake up, then – then I get him back.”

“Or you guys screw something up,” Max argued, “and change something that can’t be changed back.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “He won’t wake up, not like this, and I can’t just sit here and wait.”

“Michael,” Max tried, purposely calming his voice in that way when he knew Michael was seconds away from blowing up and wanted to ease him back down. “Listen to me. I know you’re worried about him, but if you go into his mind, you could make things worse.”

Michael swallowed. Max was right, he knew Max was right. But he remembered Kyle’s voice when he’d hoped Alex would wake up soon. He had been too quiet, his eyes downcast like he was praying and didn’t want the others to know it was that bad.

He had no idea that when it came to Alex, Michael paid attention. Only when it came to Alex.

“If I do nothing,” he said, “Alex stays asleep.” His fingers curled to fists at his sides at the thought. He looked back at Alex, the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed softly. His unmoving fingers and closed eyes.

Michael sniffed, and decided, “If Alex doesn’t wake up by tomorrow morning, I’m going in to wake him up myself.”

 They waited until the next morning, then noon. Michael had been ready to start at dawn, but Kyle had seemed anxious, and Max argued for “Just a couple more hours, Michael, he’s the doctor here!”

Michael had argued that Alex didn’t need a human doctor, and Kyle had argued that Alex was human, so who else was going to treat him?

Michael forgot that sometimes; that Alex wasn’t actually an alien like him, that he didn’t have any superpowers like the others did. He’d just always seemed so strong and intelligent that it slipped Michael’s mind. But Alex was human, and more fragile than Michael allowed himself to believe. He’d been too careless, too willing to ask for Alex’s help fixing this or fixing that without ever considering what he might’ve been doing to him. What it might cost.

Maybe that was why Michael was so eager to go into Alex’s mind already and wake him up. It was time for him to save Alex for a change.

“Just for the record,” Isobel said, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You deal with brains all the time,” Michael argued.

“Not like Kyle,” she insisted. “And not memories. It’s like . . . time travelling! If you touch something in the past, you could change the future forever!” She swallowed. “And Alex is . . . he’s too important.”

She didn’t need to say the words for Michael to know what she was thinking. He’s too important to you, she seemed to be telling Michael. If I hurt him, it’ll break you, and I could never forgive myself for that.

Michael took her hand. “You’re gonna do great,” he said resolutely. “If anyone can do this, you can.”

Her brows pinched, unconvinced, but Michael didn’t have any more time for doubt or hesitation. Alex hadn’t woken up in too long, and his nerves were fraying with every passing second.

“Do it,” he said.

Isobel glanced hesitantly at Kyle. Kyle looked to Alex, as if weighing the damage that they could do, but even he must’ve known that Alex being asleep for this long was abnormal, because he looked to Isobel and nodded, clearly unhappy about it.

“Be careful,” Max warned. “For your sakes, and his.”

Isobel’s hand on Michael’s tightened, and she shut her eyes. Michael kept his gaze on Alex for as long as he could. Then he felt a sudden chill shoot throughout his entire body from his hand, and he inhaled sharply. One second he was looking at Alex’s sleeping figure, and the next, the world around him turned to smoke, and he found himself standing in the desert on a bright, sunny day.

He was still holding Isobel’s hand, but nothing looked familiar. There was just desert and gray-steel buildings built high with tall glass windows, clustered like boulders in the sea.

In the distance, he could see uniformed soldiers, marching in formation. Men and women training, sergeants barking orders, laughter from friends somewhere hidden. Where were they?

“What the hell?” he muttered, looking around. He didn’t recognize the area at all.

Isobel shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Where’s Alex?”

Michael turned and found they were inches from a doorway that opened to a large, steel room. There was a raised platform at the very opposite end, and several soldiers fighting, sparring, exercising – but Michael couldn’t see any of them.

Isobel gasped. “Michael,” she pointed. “Isn’t that Alex?”

Michael had already spotted him. He was on the platform, fighting another young man. But even before Isobel and Michael approached him, Michael knew this was a much younger Alex. He looked barely eighteen, his hair having lost its spike and was cut short, he was throwing punches and kicks in a way that seemed very unnatural for the man who hardly had to raise a finger to induce fear. And he was losing. Badly.

“I don’t think anybody can see us,” Isobel murmured, looking around at the other soldiers as they passed. “Or hear us.”

Michael’s eyes were on Alex. His heart was hammering, beating painfully against his ribs with every beating Alex took, every time his body fell to the floor. His opponent delivered a roundhouse kick that had Alex on his face again, and Michael snapped. He held a hand up to blast the other fighter back, but his powers wouldn’t work.

“Are you crazy?!” Isobel hissed, slapping his arm. “You can’t change anything, remember?”

“Literally,” Michael spat, hoping Alex’s opponent could feel his glares. “My telekinesis isn’t working.”

Isobel looked around before her eyes focused on another soldier who was doing pushups. Her brows furrowed for barely half a second, then she winced and put a hand to her temple.

Michael tugged on her hand. “Are you okay?”

“It’s taking all of my power for us to just be here,” she sighed. “My other powers won’t work either.” She frowned. “What’s he doing?”

Michael followed her gaze, and saw that Alex, beaten and bloody, was slowly pushing himself to his feet with trembling arms.

“His face is covered in blood,” Isobel shook her head. “He needs to stay down!”

Michael guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised to see Alex so resolved to stay on his feet. His hair was plastered to his temples with blood and sweat, his breaths were quick and short, like his chest ached, but his shoulders were straight and his eyes were filled with a fiery anger. Alex was looking at his opponent like he was every other person who’d ever beat him down and ordered him to stay there. He was screaming, without any words at all, that he wouldn’t.

It didn’t seem to matter to the opponent as he threw hit after hit, hurting Alex again and again, making Michael flinch and burn with rage every time.

When the fight was over, the other soldiers jeering and eager to start their own training match next, Alex’s opponent crouched down beside him and whispered, loud enough for Michael and Isobel to hear, as though they were in Alex’s place themselves –

“Nobody cares who your daddy and brothers are, Manes,” the opponent sneered with disgust. “Your kind will never survive here.”

Michael clenched his jaw. He felt Alex’s anger, his frustration, his grief. He’d often wondered what happened to Alex after he’d enlisted, how a soldier trained and what that did to them, whether it was hurting Alex the same way.

No one offered Alex a hand, no one knew what to make of this lesser Manes. Michael wanted to kill them all for hurting him, for pushing him down. Alex, on the other hand, seemed to see things differently.

With all the charge of that emo kid from high school, Alex groaned and pushed himself to his feet. He spat the blood in his mouth out, and wiped his forearm against his nose. His eyes were dry, his expression unreadable, but that same anger stayed.

More than a few soldiers looked surprised and even impressed, but Alex, already walking away, didn’t notice.

The scene changed.

Before Michael could blink, they were outside again. A cursory look around told them they were behind the building this time, where rocks and stray blades of grass grew out. Alex was sitting against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. In the distance, soldiers marched on, but nobody seemed to see Alex as he cried.

He hadn’t wanted anyone to see him.

Michael glanced at Isobel, and saw her eyes were wide and sympathetic. Alex wiped the tears away faster than they could fall. He sniffled, and pulled a picture out of his pocket, hiding it between his eyes and knees, a secret for no one else.

“I’m sorry,” Alex sniffled again, and wiped his cheek on his shoulder. “I’m trying not to. I’m getting better at it. Not that I think you’d be disappointed that I cried, I just . . . don’t want to cry in front of anybody else. Never again.”

Michael and Isobel each went to a different side of Alex to see whose picture he was talking to, all the while Michael trying not to scrunch up with the uncomfortable thought that Alex had taken enough comfort in someone else that he would sneak a photo of them into base, even back then.

When he saw the picture, he froze. Isobel breathed, “Oh my god . . .,” and Michael had to kneel down next to Alex. It was a picture of them – him and Alex – similar to the picture he had in his airstream. Except this one was taken at a different angle, and they were smiling at each other, taken in the exact moment Alex had noticed Michael watching him play guitar, and the two had laughed, giddy at being so close together and knowing what they knew about their feelings for one another.

Michael tried to breathe, but a lump lodged itself in his throat. Alex had kept a picture of them with him when he’d first gone to the base, and he pulled it out whenever he needed strength and comfort. All this time, he’d thought Alex hadn’t thought twice about him . . .

“I’m scared, Guerin,” Alex confessed to the picture, his grip on the edges tightening. “I don’t – I don’t know what to do. I’m not strong enough to be here. I don’t want to be here.” His lower lip trembled. “But that’s why you started to pull away, right? I was too weak to protect you . . .”

“No,” Michael breathed, shaking his head. “No, please, don’t say that, please.”

“That’s why Alex enlisted?” Isobel said. “Because his dad hit you?”

“It was after Rosa,” Michael croaked, eyes on Alex. “Everything changed, and I . . . I could never tell him what happened. But he – he thought . . . I didn’t know he thought . . .”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex cried, hiding his face with one hand. “I’m trying not to cry, I swear I’m trying. I just miss you so much, Guerin. You’re the only person that’s ever felt like home to me, and now I’m here, and I’m more lost than ever.” He exhaled shakily. “All I wanted was a goodbye. I keep thinking about the way I left. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Isobel’s own eyes were glassy. “Michael?”

“I didn’t want to,” he whispered in response to her silent question. “I didn’t want to say goodbye. It felt like I would never see him again if I did.” He clenched his jaw. He tried to press his forehead to Alex’s temple, to inhale his scent, but he couldn’t feel Alex at all. He could only watch him suffer.

“The last thing I ever said to him before he left was –” he scowled at the bile in his throat “—that I’d be better off if he left. I was just angry, and – and hurt!” he tried. “I didn’t mean it!”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said firmly, pulling her eyes off Alex. “It’s in the past, Michael. That’s what all of this stuff is. Memories. You know Alex now, you know what he thinks of you. He loves you.”

Michael shook his head. “That’s not what hurts, Is.”

“Then what does?”

“It’s that he loved me this much even back then.”

“Private Manes,” a voice sounded, and Alex gasped just quickly enough for Michael to catch it before he was on his feet, straight as a board.

Michael looked up and found none other than Sergeant Ramos, Alex’s mysterious leader who’d come to Roswell a mere few weeks ago. The man Alex had looked up to and smiled around and trusted. The man who seemed more Alex’s father than Jesse Manes had ever been.

Sergeant Ramos, looking about twelve years younger, raised a brow at Alex’s right hand which was subtly pushing the photo back into its hiding place in his pocket.

He tilted his head at Alex. “You’re the new kid, right? Jesse’s youngest. Alec?”

“Alex Manes, sir,” Alex said loudly, coherently. Like a soldier.

“Alex,” he nodded. “You miss your friend, Alex?”

Alex faltered. “Sir?”

“Your friend,” he nudged his chin at Alex’s pocket. “In the picture.” His eyes were meaningful when he said, “You must’ve been very close.”

Alex swallowed. It was no use trying to hide the panic in his eyes. He’d just come back from his father’s house, he was too used to being afraid. He hadn’t spent a decade learning to hide that fear.

“Is he the reason you’re here?”

Alex raised his chin. “I’m here to be stronger, sir!”

Ramos smiled, like he knew something Alex didn’t. “You seemed plenty strong to me up on that platform, Private.”

Alex frowned. “I was . . . losing, sir.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, you were getting back up. No matter what he hit you with.”

Alex clenched his jaw. “I don’t like bullies, sir.”

“Did a bully hurt your friend there?” he asked. “Is that why you’re here?”

Alex said nothing, and Michael could see the questions in the furrow of his brow. What would happen to him if a sergeant discovered he was gay? Would he report him to Jesse?

Ramos sighed and looked around. “If you don’t know why you’re here,” he said, “you won’t last long, I can guarantee you that. You know where you are?”

Alex blinked, confused. “The – the US Air Force Base?”

“Are you asking me?”

He straightened. “The US Air Force Base, sir!”

“You ever been in a plane?” he asked. “Ever seen what we see up there?”

Alex hesitated, then shook his head. He quickly caught himself and said, “No, sir!”

Ramos hummed, then patted Alex’s shoulder once, hard enough to make Alex stumble. “All right, follow me! I’m about to show you the few good things about being out in this godforsaken desert.”

Alex followed as he was supposed to, though doubt never left his face. He seemed convinced that there was nothing good about being out here.

Michael and Isobel exchanged a glance before they quickly followed. Michael stayed close to Alex and reached for his hand several times, until they passed right through each other and Alex hardly seemed aware of him.

They went into a hangar with several smaller planes inside, and Alex tensed just for a moment at the sight of them all before he realized Ramos was leading him to a little aircraft at the far right of the room.

“Stay with me, Guerin,” Alex suddenly whispered, his eyes wide and betraying some fear. Michael looked to him, surprised, but realized that Alex was just talking to himself. His hand covered his pocket where his picture of him and Michael was, and with a deep, shaking sigh, he followed Ramos to the plane.

When Alex got close enough, Ramos tossed him a helmet. “Hop in, kid!”

Alex swallowed. He looked like he wanted to stutter an excuse not to, but he gripped his pocket tightly and nodded once, putting on the helmet.

“Oh my god,” Isobel said with a smirk tugging at her lips as realization dawned. “You’re like his good luck charm.”

Michael swallowed, though he definitely didn’t want to smile. When did it stop? When did Alex realize that he wasn’t good luck at all? When had he stopped needing him?

Before Michael and Isobel could say anything else, they both ended up in the backseat of the little aircraft, Ramos and Alex in the front, the plane on a wide stretch of road. Michael didn’t know if this aircraft had initially fit two people in the back, but it was like the memory warped and changed for them to be able to follow.

“We’re tied to Alex,” Isobel told him. Despite the roar of the engine, they heard each other, and the other two passengers, perfectly. “We’ll keep getting tugged along with him.”

Alex gripped the edge of his seat tightly as the plane took off into the air. Michael could hear his gasp, his eyes wanting to close but unwilling to do it in front of his sergeant. They rose high to the clouds, Alex’s knuckles white. Michael wanted more than anything to reach for him, to hold and comfort him, but this Alex was on his own. He’d never had Michael there as Michael had had Max and Isobel. It was just him, alone, with nothing but a picture to comfort him.

“Better hold onto somethin’,” Ramos laughed and pulled up high above the clouds.

What they saw knocked the breath out of their lungs. High above a bed of white, the sun shined brightly, turning the sky around it to gold and pink and purple and blue. It looked like the color of their spaceship surrounding them.

The sunlight hit Alex’s wide eyes, and Michael watched him breathing quickly, emotions turning from fear to shock to grief to wonder to amazement to grief and shock again. He could’ve done anything in that moment. He could’ve cried, could’ve screamed. Instead he smiled, a surprised burst of laughter escaping his lips.

He held up his hands and yelled, “WOOOOOOO!” and Ramous laughed harder. Isobel couldn’t help but laugh along, and Michael couldn’t look away from Alex. The bright sunlight had turned his tear-filled eyes to crystal green, and if Ramos noticed his crying, he didn’t say anything. Alex just laughed and ran his hands through his hair, marveling at the sight before him, as if he’d never expected that such a beautiful treasure could be right over his head this whole time.

After they’d come back down, Ramos handed Alex his half of a ham and cheese sandwich. “Every year,” he told him, “I look at new recruits, try to decide if there are any worth keeping an eye out for. This year, that’s you.”

Alex blinked. “Why me?”

“Because a soldier who can start a battle is a dime a dozen,” he said simply. “I need the kind of person who can win them. I think I can make you captain in record’s time.” He raised a brow, and finished his sandwich in one bite. “Would that be something you would want?”

Alex’s eyes widened. “That would outrank my dad – er – Sergeant Manes.”

“Yes,” Sergeant Ramos said slowly, as though he’d just figured out the bully’s name. “It would. He would have to answer to you.”

Alex’s cheeks were red, but his expression fierce and hopeful. “You can really make me captain, sir?”

“If it’s what you want,” he said. “If it’s the kind of person you want to be. But you ‘aint gonna get it getting beaten down the way you do.”

“I’m – I’m trying –”

“Trying is for excuses,” he said. “‘Round here, you do. If you want to outrank your old man, there’s only one way to do it, Manes. I can train you, but the work’s gotta come from you. What do you think?” He tilted his head. “How far are you willing to go to be the stronger one?”

The look on Alex’s face said it all. He would become whatever he had to, do whatever needed doing. He had enemies, and he wanted them to burn.

The picture changed. It was like walking through a film, memories too blurred and passing now for Michael and Isobel to cling to.

“What’s going on?” Michael asked Isobel, and she shook her head.

“Alex doesn’t clearly remember any of this stuff,” she said, “so we can’t see it any better than he can.”

They saw Alex get older, training harder, running faster, shooting better than anybody else around him. They saw him rise in ranks quickly, uniformed men pinning medals to his chest, congratulating him. Alex laughing with a team of his own, men with muscles larger than Michael’s head, following him like he was their hero.

The memory then stopped, and Michael and Isobel found themselves in a hospital hallway.

Isobel shivered and clung to Michael’s arm. “What is this?” she asked. “Where are we?”

Michael looked around, and pointed at a familiar man pacing along the wall, his thumb pressed to his lower lip.

“Gregory?” Isobel blinked. “What’s he doing here?”

A doctor stepped out, and Gregory was on him in an instant. “How is he?” he demanded at once.

The doctor sighed. It sounded sad. Gregory’s face fell, anguish overtaking his expression. “We did all we could,” he said, “but we couldn’t save the leg.”

Isobel gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “No,” she breathed. “I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to see this.”

Michael couldn’t hear anything else she said. He was watching Alex who was sitting up in bed, staring numbly at the ceiling. Michael went inside and stood at Alex’s bedside. He did not look at the sheets and what they revealed.

“Private,” he whispered, leaning in as close as he could without touching Alex. “Can you hear me?”

Alex said nothing. He didn’t look down or move. The circles around his eyes were dark. He slowly reached over to the tray beside his bed where a few of his belongings sat in an opened plastic bag, and took something out. It was a picture, his picture of him and Michael, tattered around the edges and stained with specs of blood on the back. He hugged it against his chest as a tear wordlessly rolled down his cheek, though he remained expressionless.

“Alex,” Gregory came in. He looked over Alex’s missing right leg, and swallowed thickly. “Hey,” he brushed his hair back from his face. Alex was either half-asleep or still filled with anesthetic. “Hey, can you hear me?”

Michael knew Alex could, that he remembered this moment perfectly, or he and Isobel would never have been able to see it.

Alex’s lips tugged up in half a sad smile, his brows furrowed as another tear fell down the bridge of his nose. “He’ll think I’m broken now. He’s so beautiful, he’d . . . he’d never love me like this.”

Michael stepped back, feeling like he’d been shot. Alex had kept the picture. Alex had thought Michael wouldn’t love him without his leg. Even now, after all these years, he’d kept the photo of them together. Even now, Michael was still his comfort.

The scene changed.

“I’m getting dizzy,” Isobel groaned. “Where are we now? It looks like Alex’s house, doesn’t it?”

It did. It was night, and they were right in Alex’s driveway, the trees lit with fairy lights, and there sat Michael, or a previous version of Michael, on the bed of his truck.

Michael’s heart fell into his stomach. “No,” he breathed. He remembered this.

“Whoa,” Isobel looked between Michael and Memory Michael. “It’s like Inception.”

“No, please, no,” Michael whispered as Alex pulled up. He stepped out and saw Michael shaking his head.

“What?” he asked in that cute way Michael had never admitted to.

“Pick another memory,” Michael told Isobel. “Any other memory!”

“I can’t control where we go!” Isobel said. “Why? What happens here, Michael?”

Michael pressed the bottoms of his palms into his eyes as Alex’s plea to help him find out more about his mom sounds in his ears. Then Michael’s own cruel words, “I like Maria, okay?”

Isobel’s hand tightened on Michael’s. “Oh.”

Michael was about to say something, though he didn’t know what, when the image before them blurred. It didn’t go away, it just faded to darkness.

“What’s happening?” Michael asked Isobel.

Isobel’s brows were furrowed. “It’s Alex,” she said. “He – he stopped paying attention.”

Michael swallowed thickly as the colors ran around him. Then he and Isobel were in Alex’s living room as Alex came in. It was right after Michael had left his house.

Alex sat down on the couch, staring off into the distance. He pulled off his cap, and his arm fell limp to his side. Slowly, Alex let his head fall back against the wall, and he stared at the ceiling, the same numb expression on his face as when he’d woken up to losing his leg. Any pretense of being fine or indifferent to Michael’s confession was gone.

Alex sniffled, then straightened. His eyes were dry. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out that same picture of him and Michael. He stared at it for a long time, but he didn’t say anything.

“He kept it,” Isobel breathed. “All this time, he’s loved you so much.”

“I didn’t –” Michael croaked, shaking his head. “I didn’t know.”

He’d thought Alex didn’t care who he was with. Then he thought to the way Alex’s eyes had fallen time and time again; in his driveway, his backyard, outside Michael’s airstream over and over and over again. Never surprised, just afraid that his suspicions had been right. That he was too broken for Michael to love anymore.

Alex lied down with a deep sigh that sounded frighteningly like resignation, his hand with the picture hanging off the couch. Slowly, his jaw clenched, Alex let the picture flutter out of his fingers and to the floor. He turned over to his other side and closed his eyes. He didn’t pick the picture up again.

“Alex . . .” Michael whispered, but before he could try reaching for Alex, the picture changed again, and he and Isobel were standing next to Alex in front of a short building. Kids played outside and elders swept their front porch.

Isobel leaned her weight against Michael. He put an arm around her waist. “Whoa, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, “yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. I don’t think I can keep this up much longer, Michael. We have to find the broken part here, fast.”

Michael looked Alex over. “I think we’re getting there. Wasn’t this what he was wearing the day he was ambushed?”

Isobel straightened, eyes narrowed. She gasped. “Kyle told me Alex had gone to visit his mom that morning! He called on his way to the bunker, and –”

“That’s where they got him,” Michael growled, his hands turned to fists at the thought. “We’re close.”

As if hearing the urgency in their voices, a woman opened the door to greet Alex. She had Alex’s dark eyes, dark hair, and kind smile.

“My baby,” Alex’s mother pulled him in for a hug. Alex hugged her back just as tightly.

“Hey, mom,” he said. He sounded exhausted.

His mother quickly noticed and her smile faltered. She cupped his cheek. “Okay, baby, come in. Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

That was how they found themselves minutes later, seated in a small but comfy living room with plush floral couches, Michael and Isobel on each side of Alex as he and his mother nursed hot cups of tea.

“What’s going on?” Alex’s mother said. “Why do you look like that?”

Alex scoffed halfheartedly, “Are you saying I look bad?”

She brushed his hair back from his eyes. “My son is the handsomest in the world.” She brought her hand to his chin and lifted his head. “So why is he so upset?”

“I’m not upset, mom,” he said, smiling weakly. “I’m just . . . so tired.” His smile fell away and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a sip of his tea and set the mug down. He rubbed his hands together. “When you called last night, I told you everything was fine. I lied, mom.”

She nodded, like this didn’t surprise her in the slightest. “I know.” She tilted her head, and softly asked, “Is it your breakup? I thought you were okay with that.”

“I was,” Alex shook his head, eyes shut. “I – I am, but I . . .” He sighed and pulled something out of his pocket. He huffed a miserable chuckle. “I tried to burn it. I couldn’t.”

She took the picture from him, and Isobel gasped softly. It was the same one Alex had had of him and Michael for all of these years. He’d never gotten rid of it. Michael had never stopped being a comfort to him. Until, apparently, now.

Realization dawned on Alex’s mother’s face. “This boy. What was his name again?”

Alex rubbed his face. “It doesn’t matter. None of this matters anymore. Forrest and I broke up, and he still won’t tell me anything.”

She frowned. “I thought you said you loved each other?”

Alex nodded. “I used to believe that.” He sighed shakily. “Not anymore.” He chuckled sadly, and covered his face with his hands. “I’m so tired, mom. I’m so tired of – of excuses and being afraid and – and being brave just to find out that it makes no difference. It’s not enough. I’m not enough.”

“Alex,” Alex’s mother looked horrified at her son’s words. “Did he tell you that?”

“He didn’t have to,” Alex confessed in a whisper. “He showed me. He told Maria he loved her.”

Isobel’s eyes were wide. “Michael, you what?” she demanded. “Why would you lie like that?”

“I was scared,” he said, his eyes on Alex. “I wanted to hold onto something easy.”

But he didn’t know this was what he’d been doing to Alex. That he was hurting him this badly, all to date someone he’d never actually wanted to date. Michael looked at the dark circles around Alex’s eyes, his hollow cheeks, his tousled hair, and wondered how long it had been since Alex had eaten or slept.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Alex said. “I’d always hoped that . . . that we’d end up together. But it’s not something he wants anymore. If he ever wanted it at all.” His eyes shut tight. “I can’t keep clinging to bread crumbs, mom, I don’t want to.”

His mom looked concerned, but she took Alex’s hands in both of hers and said steadily, “Alex, what’re you trying to say? You can tell me.”

Alex exhaled shakily, and lifted his gaze to his mother’s. “Mom, I’ve thought about this a lot. I’ve thought about it since he and Maria first started . . .” he clenched his jaw and looked away, like just the thought of Michael and Maria together pained him. Finally, he said, “I’m leaving Roswell.”

“No,” Michael breathed.

“And I’m not coming back this time.”

“NO!” Michael stood. “Alex, you can’t leave!”

“Michael,” Isobel tried. “He can’t hear you.”

“Alex can’t leave me,” he shook his head. “He can’t.”

“I can’t see him anymore,” Alex said. “I can’t pretend he still loves me. It hurts too much.”

Despite Isobel’s protests, Michael leaned over Alex and grabbed his arms. He kept going through him.

“Alex, look at me!” he demanded. “I’m right here, look at me!”

Alex flinched just as Michael’s hands collided with his arms, grabbing onto him. He could feel Alex, and Alex could feel him.

Alex looked startled, his mother’s voice was gone. Everyone’s voices were gone but Michael’s, Isobel’s, and Alex’s. The world around them was turning to black as Alex searched the air in front of him, as if looking for the source of the sound.

“He can hear me,” Michael muttered, eyes wide. “He can – he can hear me!”

Alex’s eyes fell onto Michael’s, and his brows furrowed. “Guerin?”

“This is it,” Isobel stood. “This is the faulty memory! The part where Alex’s brain is screwed up and is keeping him asleep!”

“Isobel?” Alex blinked. He tried to stand with Michael clinging to him. Michael was afraid that if he let go of this memory, Alex would disappear from him for good. “What’re you guys doing here, what is all this?”

They were standing in darkness. Nothingness upon nothingness.

“You were attacked,” Isobel told him, “by Project Shepherd agents.”

“You’ve been in a coma for three days,” Michael said. “We couldn’t get you to wake up, we had to come into your mind, try to wake you from here.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Alex shook his head. “Attacked? Coma? None of this makes any sense!”

“Remember!” Michael demanded. “Remember! This is just a memory, the real you knows what happened! Remember, Alex!”

Alex looked shocked, doubtful, disbelieving. Then something in his expression slotted together. “I was – I was at the bunker . . . the door was open . . . it all happened so fast.” He blinked, and gasped. “A gunshot. Someone – someone shot me.” He frantically patted down his stomach, looking for the wound, but he wouldn’t find it in a memory. He looked back to Isobel, then Michael. “You’re telling the truth.”

“You have to fight it, Alex,” Isobel urged. She leaned forward on her knees and huffed, like just breathing was getting tiresome for her. “You have to want to wake up.”

“Want to wake up?”

“Yeah,” Michael cupped his jaw. “Come on, baby. Wake up for me,” he breathed. “I miss you, please wake up for me.”

Alex searched his face, then said, “No.”

Michael faltered. “N-No?”

“No,” Alex tried pulling his arms out of Michael’s grasp, but Michael held on. “Guerin, I don’t want to.”

“What do you mean you don’t want to? Alex, this is your life we’re talking about –”

“My life?” he laughed. It sounded so sad. “What life, Guerin? The one where the man I love won’t say two nice words to me? The one where my friends don’t think twice about what their decisions might do to me? Where my own brother tried to kill me because I got in his way?”

Alex shook his head. “No, Guerin. No. I’ve been tired for a long time, and I want to rest now.”

Michael gripped his arms harder. “You think I don’t know the real you?” he demanded. “You think I don’t know that you’ve had hope for us even when I didn’t? You think I don’t know that no matter what you say, you’ll believe in us whether you want to or not? We’re cosmic, Alex, this won’t kill us, and you know it won’t. If you don’t wake up, I’ll just come after you again, you know I will.”

Isobel stared, shocked. “Michael . . .”

His grip on Alex turned painfully tight. “I’ve never trusted anything, Alex. I’m not like you, I can’t see the good even when everything just feels bad. But I trust you. If you don’t wake up, I’ll die.” He shrugged, a sad smile tugging at his lips as a tear rolled down his cheek. “And you won’t let me. I believe that.”

His grip loosened.

“What’re you doing?” Alex said, though he seemed to already know the answer.

“I’m trusting you to come back to me,” Michael said, his whole body trembling. “Because you always do.”

“Michael,” Isobel warned, “if you let him go now, we might lose him for good.”

Michael smirked, and a tear fell down Alex’s face. “I’m not letting you go,” Michael told Alex. “I can’t.”

“Guerin,” Alex tried, but Michael was already straightening, bracing himself.

“You’ll come back,” he said, sure of this more than anything else.

Without another word, he let go of Alex, and a sudden wind hit his face. Then he blinked, and he was back in Max’s bedroom. He and Isobel both broke apart and fell to the ground.

“Oh my god,” Kyle gasped somewhere in the distance and helped Isobel up while Max came to Michael’s side.

“You guys have been frozen for hours!” he said, pulling Michael to his feet. “What happened?”

“Michael had Alex,” Isobel said, and looked to her brother. “Why?” she demanded. “Michael, after what he told us –”

“What?” Kyle said, looking between them. “Told you what?”

Michael lumbered out of Max’s hold and took his place at Alex’s bedside again, taking his hand in his. “Come on, Alex,” he begged in a whisper. “Come on. Come back to me.”

“He said . . . he said . . .”

“It doesn’t matter!” Michael snapped, and Isobel fell silent. “He’ll wake up. He will. Come on, baby,” he murmured into Alex’s hand. “Come on.”

The minutes ticked by in silence, like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did.

“Michael,” Isobel said quietly. “He’s not going to wake up.”

“Yes, he will,” Michael said at once, his grip on Alex’s hand bruising. “He will.”

“Just give him a minute,” he heard Kyle say. He must’ve been clinging to that hope just as desperately as Michael was.

“Come on,” he pleaded. “Come on, Alex. Stay with me.”

A moment. Two. Michael’s eyes burned, and his hands started to tremble. Then he felt it; he felt Alex’s fingers move in his.

He gasped, and waited. Alex moved again.

Kyle pointed at one of the monitors. “Brain activity’s increasing!” he all but yelled. “Alex?”

They looked to Alex, waiting, waiting, waiting. Then Alex’s eyes fluttered open, and a sob escaped Michael’s lips before he pressed them to Alex’s fingers, kissing each one. Kyle gently pulled off the respirator, and he and Michael both helped a confused Alex sit up.

Alex’s brows were furrowed as he took in the room. When he spoke, his voice was dry and hoarse. “I had the weirdest dream.”

Isobel collapsed into tearful giggles, and Max, relieved, patted Alex’s shoulder twice. Kyle ruffled his hair, and Michael moved to sit next to him, hugging him tightly and keeping him close.

“Don’t ever do that to us again, Manes,” Kyle warned him with a trembling smile.

“Do what?” Alex asked. “I don’t remember anything – ow!” He lifted up his short sleeve to reveal red nail marks. Michael’s nail marks from when he’d been gripping him a little too tightly, terrified of losing him.

Alex met Michael’s gaze with furrowed brows, realization quickly dawning. Michael pressed their foreheads together and took a second to breathe Alex in before he closed the distance between them, taking Alex’s lips in his own.

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and then Alex broke away, panting, though they kept their foreheads together.

“Get off him,” Kyle slapped Michael’s shoulder. “He still needs a minute to breathe.”

“No,” Michael said simply, resting his head on Alex’s shoulder and nuzzling his neck, feeling as much of him as he could.

“Oh!” Isobel started. “Alex, what ever happened to that photograph?”

Michael tensed.

“What photograph?” Max asked.

“Alex,” she said, “had this picture of him and Michael when they were seventeen. We saw it in all of his memories.”

“Isobel,” Michael warned through grit teeth. He expected the same out of Alex, to see him embarrassed or shy, but Alex simply blinked like he’d forgotten about the picture.

“That?” he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small photograph.

Michael hugged his waist with one hand and took the photo with the other. “I have one just like this.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah?”

“I’ll show it to you,” he promised into his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Alex sighed. “I think it might be time for a new one.” He smiled at Michael like he adored him. No, more than adored him. The thought made Michael’s heart flutter and made him cling tighter.

Michael kissed Alex’s neck, then his shoulder. “Good. ‘Cause I have a few ideas.”

“Um,” Isobel said testily as Max and Kyle looked away with red faces. “Y’all know we’re still here, right?”

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tw homophobia #tw implied suicide #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

[lightsovermonaco]

A Decent Workout (NSFW Pierre Gasly)

Masterlist

Completely and utterly self indulgent fic inspired by how damn GOOD Pierre looked over preseason testing. Beta read by @acollectionofficsandshit

The buzzing of an alarm woke you not long after the sun had risen over the deserts of Bahrain. You groan, rolling over and smacking the solid shoulder of your boyfriend, startling him awake as well. “Turn it off, Pierre.”

He does as he’s told, then clumsily tucks an arm around you and pulls you to his chest. Voice rough with sleep, he murmurs, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” You echo, nuzzling into his warmth. You curl your frigid hands against his chest, utilizing your personal space heater to the fullest extent. “How long until testing?”

Pierre rests his cheek on your head. His hand traces lazy circles on your shoulder blade like you have all the time in the world. Your eyes slide shut again, sleep beaconing on the horizon. “About an hour.”

You sigh, suddenly awake. “Not much time for lounging around then."

Eagerness mingled with disappointment in his reply. “First day of the new season.”

Pierre's excitement had been palpable the entire week. Buzzing about like a honeybee on the first day of spring, he had prattled on about the specs of the AT02, what changes he was most excited to see, and his predictions on how the car would compare to others in the paddock. You offered your thoughts when prompted, but were just as happy to listen to his happy ramblings and share his enthusiasm. 

It had been his idea to arrive in Bahrain early, allowing the two of you a few precious, uninterrupted days with each other. From now on, his weekends would be packed. No more last minute trips to ski resorts or visits to Charles in Monaco. Starting today, his primary focus became Formula 1. He would travel around the world to compete in a total of 23 grand prix this year, and you would follow faithfully to cheer him on.

You lay tangled in each other for a few minutes, trading sweet kisses. “I have to go,” Pierre murmurs against your lips. You tighten your grip around his bare middle, determined to make him stay a little longer.

“You’ll be gone for so long though,” You whine, pouting. The last few days had spoiled you. He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Eleven whole hours without a beautiful Frenchman to keep me company.”

“I’ll be back before you know it. And besides, you can watch the entire session from the comfort of our suite.”

“It’s not the same as being in the garage.” Damn the personnel restrictions the FIA had imposed for the upcoming season. You wouldn’t be allowed in the paddock for a single race. You understood and respected the decision, but it bothered you that you couldn't be there when he inevitably made it on the podium this year.

“I know.” Pierre tapped your arm in silent request. Reluctantly, you release your death grip and allow him to slide out of bed. He turns his back to you and stretches, granting you a moment to drink him in. He had packed on a significant amount of muscle during the offseason, filling out in all the right places.

Deciding there was no use trying to go back to sleep, you rise and join him at the dresser. He rummages through it, finally settling on a plain tshirt. As usual, you can’t take your eyes off him as he effortlessly slides the fabric over his head. How did he make an everyday act so inherently sexy?

Catching your stare, he fights the smile playing on his soft lips. “What?”

“Just admiring the view,” You say simply. Going up on your tiptoes, you press a meaningful kiss to his cheek. “Be careful out there, okay?”

He holds out his pinkie to you. You smile, wrapping your own tightly around it. “Promise.” He allows you one more passionate kiss before he slips out the door to make his way to the track.

At least one perk of staying in a suite was the fully stocked kitchenette. You grabbed an apple before brewing a cup of strong coffee, taking in the view off the balcony while it percolated. You could just see the track from here, something you knew Pierre had specifically requested. Although it was early, heat already rippled from the pavement. Hopefully his Alpha Tauri would stay cool and not throw a tantrum in the intense temperatures.

After a quick shower, you threw on one of Pierre’s extra shirts and let the comforting scent envelop you. Settling into bed with your coffee in hand and a laptop humming on your legs, you wait for the testing livestream to begin. In the meantime you scroll through your phone, reading the comments on the pictures of Pierre arriving at the circuit. 

His carefully selected outfit had caused quite a stir and honestly, you understood why. A loose blue shirt, white skinny jeans and sunglasses. On anyone else, it wouldn’t have been impressive in any way, but on him… He somehow always managed to deliver exactly what his fans - and most importantly you - craved.

And when the livestream started and he stepped out on the track with his white and navy Alpha Tauri suit half undone, the moisture-wicking underlayer practically painted on… You damn near lost it.

In the months since last season, you’d forgotten how mouthwateringly attractive he was in a race suit. The underlayer left nothing to the imagination, clinging to the hard lines of his torso. The famous Bahrain heat didn't help your sanity either, the sweat soaked fabric turning slightly translucent in places. Your eyes stay glued to the screen as it flips between cameras, desperately praying for another glimpse of your frenchman. 

How were you supposed to wait nine more agonizing hours for him to return?

As if picking up on your neediness, you didn't see another shot of Pierre for twenty minutes. The camera cut to the Alpha Tauri garage, where Pierre’s car waited in the pit lane. The closeup of him geared up sitting in his Alpha waiting patiently made you slap a hand over your mouth. Those eyes. You knew the little quirk of his brow he threw at the camera was meant solely for you; a way to unravel you when he wasn’t physically there.

You silently cursed him for how well it worked. 

Moments later, the tire blankets are peeled off and his car is lowered to the ground. Gasly was one of the first drivers to head out onto the track, giving him plenty of clean air to lay down fast laps. He completes seventeen laps in the first hour, and by lap twenty he holds the second fastest time, less than a second behind Verstappen. 

You try to focus on the precision and skill Pierre is displaying, but your mind keeps wandering back to the image of him standing on the track in his race suit. The consuming need to strip him out of it is incredibly distracting. It doesn’t help that your social media feeds are flooded with images of it either, offering you no reprieve.

By the end of the second hour, Pierre edges past Verstappen to take the fastest lap and go purple. He nearly holds onto it at the end of the session, just a few tenths slower than Ricciardo and Verstappen. It doesn’t matter; pride and love swell in your chest when he finally pulls back into the garage, his excitement evident before he even pulls his helmet off. The Alpha mechanics share his excitement, the camera showing them congratulating him before cutting to post session interviews.

As much as you tried, nothing could make you focus on Max or Daniel’s interviews. You spun the ring on your pinkie impatiently, waiting for Pierre to make an appearance. Ages later, he finally took a seat at the press conference. He took no mercy on you. Again dressed in crisp white and navy that accented his sun kissed skin, the ring twin to yours back on his finger… 

“Fuck me,” You groaned, throwing your head back. Even with half his face covered, he was still breathtakingly gorgeous. He carried himself with an easy confidence that no one else on the grid could match, on top of the world and determined to make it everyone else’s problem.

The entire time he spoke, you dreamed of running your tongue up the column of his neck, right over his Adam’s apple. You could taste the salt settled in the hollow of his collarbone, hear his breath catching as you worshipped him. 

Only half an hour until he came home to you.

The interview finally ended and you snapped your laptop shut, tossing it to the chair at the bedside. The second he came through that door, you’d pounce on him. Ten hours of straight torture, being forced to endure watching other women on social media drool over him and being unable to congratulate him on his amazing morning session at the garage. 

And fuck, would you congratulate him.

Minutes dragged by as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone, the endless pictures of Pierre not helping your desperation. You started at the sound of a key fitting in a lock. Throwing your phone aside, you scrambled from the bed, launching yourself at the door as it opened.

“Hey baby-”

You cut him off with a feral kiss, your lust boiling over. To his credit, he didn’t hesitate in dropping his bag and kicking the door shut behind him. He caught you when you jumped, broad hands cupping your ass as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“I love whoever designed Alpha’s suit,” You mumble between the open-mouthed kisses you pepper along his stubbled jaw. “You look fucking amazing in white.”

“I’ll be sure to pass your thanks along.” Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull, exposing the thick column of his neck. Your tongue darts across his skin, savoring the softness. He groans, his grip shifting to dig his fingers into your thighs.

You don’t pause when he lays you on the bed, mouth continuing its needy exploration down to his shoulder. He settles over you, his solid body a familiar and welcome weight against you. 

“I couldn’t concentrate on anything once you stepped out onto the track,” You tell him, hands slipping under his polo. “Do you know how many women were talking about you today?”

“There’s only one that I care about,” He murmurs, pulling back to strip off his shirt. You take advantage of the power shift to wriggle out from under him. “Where are you-”

“Lay down,” You say, quiet but firm. The corner of his mouth quirks up but he obeys, taking his sweet time. You don’t mind; watching his shoulders ripple as he settles back against the downy pillows.

“Miss me much?” He taunts, the deep baritone resonating with some primal part within you and sending a shiver down your spine. “Usually our roles are flipped.”

You bracket a bare leg on either side of his with a wicked grin. “Do you really think I’d let you set the pace when you tortured me all day?” You bite your lip and let your gaze wander over the hard planes of his pecs, down his sculpted abdomen, finally coming to rest at the line of muscle disappearing beneath his waistband. You don’t miss the way his attention dips to your thighs, your center barely covered by the hem of his band tee you wore.

Pierre grins, folding an arm behind his head. “Do your worst.”

Your shirt joined his on the floor, piercing blue eyes eating up your newly exposed skin. You sink forward, eye to eye with him. You tip your head to the side, letting your hair slide forward to tickle his shoulder as you lean in to whisper, “I will.”

Lips, teeth and tongue float over his skin, leaving small, easily hidden marks in your wake. You let your hands slide across his abdomen as your mouth makes its way down his sternum, pausing to delight in his rapidly beating heart.

Fingers brushing the waistband of his riot-inducing white jeans, you press a tender kiss just below his belly button. "Why do you always insist on wearing white?"

"D-drives you wild," He gasps out, stumbling over the simple words. You hum against his skin in response, cock twitching against your shoulder. One of his hands flies back to grip the headboard, veins in his forearm bulging. 

Only when his eyes slide shut in anticipation do you finally undo the button, unzipping his fly agonizingly slow. Your name is a breathless plea tumbling from him as you ghost your fingers over his length. He lifts his hips just enough to allow you to slide his jeans down his thighs, followed by his boxers. The tip of your finger runs along the underside of his shaft, causing him to groan. The headboard creaks under his crushing grip as he tries to stop himself from shattering at your barest touch. 

Flicking your tongue over the tip, you spread the bead of precum that had gathered there. Slipping into French, Pierre swears viciously, his free hand tangling in your hair. He may know how to make you squirm from across the city, but you knew how to return the favor tenfold.

"You gonna win for me in two weeks, my love?" You purr, curling your fingers around his cock. 

"I'll w-win every race if it means you'll fuck me," He replies immediately, wholly submitted to the promise of your touch. 

You hum noncommittally before taking the tip of his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue over the head. His hips buck, but you're already reacting in anticipation of that very movement. He groans in frustration when your mouth leaves him. A welcome change from your normal games, when it was his head between your thighs, his teasing tongue flicking across your center, your hips rocking in frustration. You enjoy his frustration for a few breaths, lazily drawing circles on his hip like he had done to you that morning.

"I think that could be arranged."

Bracing your hands on his chest, you position yourself so your slick folds brush against his cock. Arching your back, you grind your hips against him, your own chest heaving in time with his. The hours of anticipation had left you dripping wet, evidence of the effect he had on you. You silently praised yourself for your restraint; you wanted to drag out his need and tease him like he had done to you all damn day.

 "Mon amour," he murmurs, and you damn near lose your mind. Two words in his native tongue, dripping with honeyed softness but spoken with such rawness, it sets your soul on fire.

You reach a hand back, guiding him into as you sink down. Your pussy stretches to accommodate the thickness of him, and you have to give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness.

Sweat beads on his golden brow as you begin to ride him in earnest, his hips rolling to meet yours. Panting, you dig your nails into his forearm, leaving angry red crescents behind. No matter how many times you fucked, it always felt like the first. The perfect fit never ceased to amaze you, the angle of your hips putting delicious pressure on that magic spot inside you with every thrust. 

"Pierre," You breathe, head falling back. His own thrusts become more frenzied, the wet sound of skin on skin sending a bolt of ecstasy through you.

His breathy moan of your name guides you over the edge into oblivion, your orgasm slamming white hot over you. Your desperate movements begin to slow, Pierre stilling beneath you as you struggle to regain your senses. Limbs shaking, you roll over, allowing yourself a moment to steady your breathing before turning back to him.

Pierre jerks when you take him in your mouth once more, tasting yourself on his cock. Hollowing your cheeks while taking as much of him as you can, you wrap your hand around the rest of him.

"Fuck," He mumbles, over and over as he thrusts his hips into your mouth a handful of times before his release finds him. His hips jerk as he cums, your tongue coaxing every last drop from him. You let him finish before swallowing the salty liquid, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

Sighing blissfully, you collapse onto the pillow next to your beloved. His arm hooks around you, still sticky with sweat but you don't care.

“I would say that counts as my workout for today,” He jokes, voice shaking in the aftermath. You laugh, wrapping an arm around his chest.

"Tomorrow, I choose your outfit."

Pierre’s laugh rumbles through you, setting your toes curling. "As long as it makes you attack me when I get home, I'll wear anything you ask me to."

#my writing #pierre gasly #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly fanfiction #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 rpf #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 rpf

[mourntheantagonist]

#HarringroveApril Day 16: Nostalgia

***

When Billy signed those discharge papers, piled into his dented Camaro and headed west towards the sunset despite the screaming redhead banging on the windows crying “please don’t go!”, with an aching chest both metaphorical and physical, he didn’t think for a second about looking back.

So how he ended up back in the same shithole he turned his back on ten years ago was entirely beyond him.

He had made a life for himself in California. He got his associates degree at the local community college and worked his way up from a nine to five teller position at the local bank all the way to branch manager, making an upper middle class salary. It was easy work. Boring work, unfulfilling work, but easy and worth every penny. He had a couple of friends, mostly coworkers, more so acquaintances than friends. He had a fancy apartment in the city, he went on dates, though they usually ended in one night stands where the other guy snuck out in the dark hours of the morning leaving Billy to sleep in a bed that was just too big for one person. But he was free from all of those forces in his life that always held him back and pinned him down, and each and every one of those forces just reeked of small town America.

He hadn’t heard a peep out of Hawkins since Max had given up on calling around eight years ago, or at least he hoped that she’d given up and something worse hadn’t happened to her. He regretted not answering those calls everyday. The guilt of leaving her behind like that weighed heavy like an anchor, but he did it anyway. Bad decision after bad decision he was surprised he made it to where he had today, and he just wished she’d call again.

But he also wasn’t sure enough of himself that anything would change if she did, and that phone would likely remain on the hook until the ringing stopped and she was left to the sound of his voicemail.

“You’ve reached Billy Hargrove. Leave a message.”

He wasn’t home the day she finally did call, which fortunately took that decision away from him. Her message was tossed in with a mix of telemarketers and employees calling in for days off, it could have easily been dismissed, passed over like every other piece of junk in the system if her voice hadn’t been exactly the same as it was the day he left her.

“Hey Billy, it’s Max. I know you probably don’t give a shit, but Neil died of a heart attack last night…” Billy stopped listening after the words ‘Neil died’ came over the speaker. He had to replay the message to hear the rest because by the time he’d gathered himself it had already ended. “...the funeral is next Saturday in Hawkins. Nobody expects you to come but I thought you should know anyway and that everyone would still like to see you. Call me back at…” Billy wrote the number on the back of a blockbuster receipt and set it flat on the counter quickly with a firm hand and a quick retraction, like it might burn him. Max’s name and a ten digit number below it in a blue ballpoint pen stared back at him and he just drummed his fingers on the counter and bit his lip trying to think everything over.

He looked at it for probably another thirty minutes while the rest of the voicemails cycled through in the background before he decided to make a call of his own. Slowly and shaking, he dialed the phone number and tried to even out his breathing while he waited for the sound of the pick up. He was partially hoping that it never came.

But it did. The click sound was followed by a voice that didn’t belong to Max, but one he still recognized.

“Hello?”

Billy took in a deep breath. “Hi. This is Billy.”

“Wow, I’m surprised you actually called.”

Billy huffed and if it had been ten years earlier he would have already hung up the phone by now.

“Who is this?”

“Lucas Sinclair. I take it you want to talk to Max?”

Billy tensed at the mention of her name, as if that hadn’t been the whole plan in the first place. “Yeah,” he said, a little bit of shakiness to his voice, “could you put her on?”

After a few short moments of silence and a little bit of movement in the background, he heard her.

“Hey Billy.” she sounded… glad… and it made Billy let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Hey Maxine.”

“It’s Max.” There was that tone, she hadn’t changed at all.

“Yeah, I know.” There was a pause, Billy twirled the phone cord around this index finger to the point it started going pink and then purple while he tried to get the question to leave the tip of his tongue. “So, he’s really dead?” he asked, blunt as ever.

“Yeah. I don’t expect you to want to come for the funeral, but I just thought you should know, and if you need a place to stay you can– hold on one second” Billy could hear muffled bickering and Max yelling ‘Lucas Sinclair’ through clenched teeth and it brought a smile to his face. It reminded him of all those times he’d eavesdrop on her phone calls with him just to piss her off, just to hear her yell at him through their shared wall before she’d chase him around the house. Those were good days. “As I was saying. You can stay here if you need. We have a spare room.”

“Thanks for the offer.”

“I really hope you decide to come.”

“We’ll see.” He was just about to hang the phone back up, but he stopped himself, “Hey Max?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice hearing the sound of your voice again.”

Billy wound up taking the week off and driving that same old Camaro, restored back to its former glory, that did the distance twice before, back over to Indiana, to the place he said he’d never go back to, and he really couldn’t figure out the reason why he didn’t just go into work. There was nothing to drive him to go but the weird feeling in his gut that refused to go away until he called in, and a little bit of that pressure was released.

For each freeway exit he came across on the over thousand mile journey he contemplated turning around, getting back on that on-ramp going the other direction and save himself from whatever hell he’d be walking into.

Because that’s what Hawkins was to him. Hell. There were monsters like his father, and then there were real, legitimate monsters as well and Billy wasn’t safe from either of them, well he was safe from one now. He couldn’t imagine why Max decided to stay in the shithole and not get out like he did.

Maybe that’s what makes him the coward.

The welcome to Hawkins sign gave him chills. He remembered seeing that for the first time, following behind the rickety Uhaul pulled by their beat up truck when Billy decided not to follow them into their next turn, and instead got lost on the “scenic route” of Hawkins which really meant “trees, trees, and more trees” when he hit the Quarry’s dead end and nearly went off the cliff into the water below.

At the time he might’ve thought it would have been better if he had.

A lot of things had looked to have changed about the town since the last time he saw it. Places that he remembered being nothing but vast forests now had neighborhoods and restaurant chains and the place that once had a natural canopy was now completely deforested and exposed to the sun.

But the Quarry was exactly the same as he left it.

From the beer cans crushed and scattered, to the sounds of gravel pieces bouncing up and chipping the paint on his car.

The continuities continued to add up when he stepped foot out of the car, pulling on that same old denim jacket he hadn’t worn in years after trading it in for a suit and tie. His boot hit the gravel path just like it always had, with that same stomp that demanded attention, like each time he got out of that car he had to play into the dramatics, put on the mask and play the part he chose for himself. The breeze and the smell, it was all the same as before, as if the industrialization just several blocks north hadn’t had any effects on this little corner of the town where the birds still sang their songs in harmony and the smell of nature was pungent. It felt like no time had passed at all.

But it had been the sound of a rumbling BMW rolling down the crushing gravel that made him feel exactly like he was back in highschool again, the same rotten kid who used fists as forms for problem solving, the kid who as an adult had worked on his impulsivity, standing there, staring up the gentle slope with his fists clenched so tight his fingernails left marks on his palms. All that work, all that progress he thought he’d gone through, thrown straight out the window at just the mere sight of something from his past.

The BMW pulled up beside him, and the quarry apparently wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t changed. Steve still had the same big swooped back hair and that same exact look on his face when they made eye contact through the passenger window, the same exact look he had the day he told him he was leaving, and screamed at him to get out of his hospital room.

That was the last time they spoke.

Steve got out of the car without a word and just leaned against the door, looking him up and down, and Billy didn’t feel like he had any right to say the first word, considering he’d had the last one.

“It’s good to see you Billy.” Steve broke the silence, and it was almost startling, with both the sudden change of volume, and the sound of that voice he’d almost forgotten singing in his head like a song he didn’t remember learning the lyrics to.

“Is it?” Because it felt like it was all just a formality coming out of his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting an answer to that, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when Steve changed the subject. It was oddly refreshing seeing Steve write the script this time, steering the conversation his way.

“Looks like we both kept our old wheels,” he said, slapping the top of his car twice, maybe a little too hard. The sound of a hand against metal echoed through the trees. “though there’s not as many dents from what I remember.”

“I had it restored.”

The majority of Steve’s body was hidden behind the car that separated the two of them, but he could see in the way that his shoulders moved that his hands had found his own hips, doing that same stance of a mother who just caught their kid in the act of something naughty. “Some good memories happened in that car.”

“Some bad ones too. Or do I need to remind you how the dents got there in the first place?” Billy crossed his arms over his chest, as if the thousand pound chunk of metal that served as a barrier wasn’t enough to protect him. Because it felt like Steve could see directly through him with the way his head tilted when Billy threw his words back at him. Because they both knew that it was horseshit. Memories of whatever happened between Steve and the Camaro existed only in the dents that remained and the neck pain that still lingered. He didn’t actually hold any grudge about that, and he never did.

Because Steve was right. There had been good memories in that car, some he didn’t remember until seeing him again, some that still played in his mind when he went to sleep at night. Maybe that was the reason he kept it around for so long, that one piece that contained all of those few good times, all of those times with Steve.

“You were always so good at that.”

“What?”

“Deflecting. Pushing people away.”

Billy opened his mouth to defend himself, but there was nothing that came out but his own breath, but Steve filled that silence anyway before Billy would have even had the opportunity to speak.

“You cut your hair.”

It was like he was being interrogated.

“Company policy, they practically had to strap me down and take the clippers to my head themselves.”

Steve actually laughed, and it seemed genuine at least. Billy pulled out the pack of red that he always kept on the seat like it was muscle memory. His hands would only ever stop shaking when he had that little stick between his fingers, and they were only shaking more since Steve got out of that car.

“You still smoke?”

Billy put the cigarette in between his lips and lit up, pausing for a nice drag before bothering to answer Steve. Just letting his eyes fall shut and experience just a short moment of relaxation.

“Some old habits never die”

Steve pursed his lips. Every single one of his mannerisms were exactly the same. This one meant that he wanted to say something that he didn’t know if he should.

“Was I just an old habit too?”

“Steve–”

Steve just kicked the side of his car with his knee, sure to leave a dent of his own. The sound was loud enough that the consistent stream of chirping birds transformed into a cascade of flapping wings as the birds on the trees flew away from the scene. He walked around to the front of his car and the physical object that once created separation was gone, and suddenly Steve was within reach and he couldn’t breathe.

“Glad to know it’s harder to quit nicotine than it was to quit me!”

Billy chucked his lit cigarette at the ground and scuffed it with his heel into the gravel. “Who told you it was easy?!” He had a finger pointed to Steve and had closed their distance a few feet more, less than an arms length apart from each other.

“You left!”

“Because I had to! You know I did!”

“You didn’t have to leave me!” Steve practically screamed that final word, his face was now just inches away from Billy’s and he was nearly foaming at the mouth and from an outsider's perspective, Steve looked about two seconds from either kissing him, or killing him.

He did neither. He took a step back and recollected himself with a dramatic clearing of his throat. “You didn’t even ask me to come with you.”

“And you don’t think I regret that every fucking day of my life?” Billy’s voice broke, trembling throughout the sentence like he was containing a ticking time bomb. “Why are you even here?”

Steve just rolled his eyes at the steer. “Max sent me.”

“Of course she fucking did.”

“She cares about you y’know.” Billy scoffed, because how could she? After all he did to her? He could still hear those palms banging against those windows and her muffled screams for her to stay every time he got into that car. “Why are you here?”

“Did she not tell you the part where my dad died?”

“I know damn well you didn’t come all this way to pay your respects.”

Billy let himself drop to the ground and sit on the rough terrain with his back against his tire, unable to continue standing, his legs were ready to betray him.

“I have no idea why I’m here, okay? I just am.”

Steve nodded his head, and he didn’t say anything, no quip back in his face, he just followed Billy to the ground.

“Are you upset he’s gone?”

Billy let out a groan and tried to rub the growing migraine from his temples.

“I’m feeling a lot of things, but I don’t think ‘upset’ is one of them.” Neither of them said anything after that. They just sat there on the ground and enjoyed the silence together like they used to do. Looking up at the clouds and arguing over what shape they were. There’d be none of that today though, and it had nothing to do with the overcast skies. “You still keep a six pack in your trunk?”

Steve laughed and got up from where he was seated and popped the trunk. He was right. Some old habits never fucking die.

Steve tossed a can over to Billy and sat back down on the gravel, maybe a little closer than he had been before. Billy took a long swig and swallowed the bitter taste down. He hadn’t drank much since he was a teenager, he traded in his Coors for Cola and he doesn’t understand how he used to enjoy the taste of it before.

“Why did you stay in Hawkins?”

Steve dug his heel and pushed a pile of rocks forward, kicking a plume of dust into the air.

“Nobody ever gave me a reason to leave.”

Billy wanted to ask if he would have even come with him had he asked him to. But he opted against it, instead just taking another drink from the can and a genuine “I’m sorry.” passed his lips.

“You know I followed you?”

“What?”

“Yup. Made it all the way to St. Louis before I turned around.”

Billy was just staring at him at this point, unsure if he’d just heard him right. He just sat there with his mouth agape, catching flies and waiting for Steve to say more.

“I knew that you needed to go. I knew that you were hurting and it took me almost ten hours on the open road to realize that you needed time to heal.” Steve’s eyes looked glossy and his cheeks flushed but he kept his smile on. “So I came back home, and I waited here for you to come back. I wanted to make myself easy to find when you needed me.”

“You waited for me?”

Steve inched his hand over to where Billy’s was propping himself up and let his fingers gently trace the back of his hand. Steve’s touch was everything. It made his heart start racing and his palms start sweating and it felt just like 1985 all over again.

Billy took Steve’s hand in his own and entwined their fingers together and Billy let out a long exhale as they did.

“Billy,” Steve said softly, scooting his body just a little bit closer, less than a foot of separation now between the two of them, and he looked Billy in the eyes. Billy had almost gotten entirely lost in those pools of deep brown before Steve had the chance to speak again. But he heard it, loud and clear. “I’m still waiting for you.”

He waited.

Waited ten fucking years.

Billy wasn’t going to make him sit there and wait for a kiss too.

Billy closed the distance at the moment the penny dropped, sinking all of his weight into the kiss in a frantic and uneven pace just like they were eighteen again trying to squeeze both of their bodies into the backseat of the Camaro, refusing for even a second to separate themselves from the one point of contact that sealed them together like glue. The kiss felt just like their first. In the same spot, instead under the stars and the two of them both drunk off their asses, and that time Billy tasted of only blood and liquor.

But it was that same feeling. That desire to never pull away, that fear that it would end and that it would be the last time. He had that fear with everyone of Steve and his kisses, that each one might just be their last.

So he made a point to savor all of them.

They kissed until they physically couldn’t anymore. Out of breath with swollen lips and an inability stop the smiles that peeked through every couple of seconds. They sat there with their foreheads touching and their clasped hands still intact, relishing in the heat that was each other’s breath on their faces. Billy was crying, just streams of tears paired with a smile that Steve gently wiped away with his thumb, the brush of contact making him shiver.

“I missed you so fucking much.”

Steve cradled Billy’s head in his hands and peppered a few short kisses to his lips.

“I missed you too.”

“You think this is why Max invited me here?” Billy asked. “I can’t imagine she’d actually think I would want to come to this thing.”

Steve laughed. “No. She’s not an idiot. She figured you’d want to crash the funeral.”

Billy immediately got up from his place on the ground and held his other hand out for Steve to grab onto. “Well you wanna join me while I go piss on my old man’s grave?”

Steve took his hand without hesitation and let Billy pull him up off the ground.

“It would be my honor.”

Hawkins made a lot of bad memories for Billy, most of which he locked somewhere far away, but the good still remained. Right there in the look on Steve’s face with the way he looked back at him.

And he was happy to make a couple more.

#billy hargrove #harringrove #stranger things #steve harrington #mandi writes tresh #ficlet #harringroveapril #harringrove april

[cocastyle]

Wish — ONE

Pairing — Maxwell Lord x reader

Word Count — 7,234

A/N — and here is the first official chapter! I’m so excited to explore this storyline with you all and having an already established relationship between Maxwell and Y/N is going to make this story just that much more interesting!! let me know what you all think so far in the comments and thank you for the support I’ve already received from you all! it’s so greatly appreciated :))

if you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

W I S H

Wish Series Masterlist

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾   ONE   ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

"Welcome to the future."

The familiar voice of Maxwell Lord spoke through the TV, the sizzling sound of bacon on the stove and the soft hum of a girl's voice harmonizing with the commercial just like it did almost every morning. It was a natural occurrence for the apartment, the familiarity of it all providing a warmth to the place that Y/N herself couldn't describe.

"Life is good, but it can be better."

The girl picked up a small piece of already cooked bacon and took a bite, her eyes flickering over to the small TV while her other hand absentmindedly flipped the bacon in front of her. Y/N let her gaze wander over the man upon the screen, the corners of her lips perking up with each crunch of the bacon between her teeth while she followed every single one of his animated movements.

"And why shouldn't it be? Everything we've ever dreamed about is right at our fingertips."

He was smiling towards the camera, towards the audience watching on the other side. Maxwell Lord was a man who was destined to be a TV star in some shape or form, even if that meant a commercial. His charisma, his charm, his whole being was something the world was meant to see and Y/N had known that since the moment she first laid eyes upon him that Maxwell Lord was meant for greatness.

"But are you reaping the rewards?"

Y/N flickered her eyes back over to the bacon, smiling with satisfaction once she noticed it was almost done. She moved across the room to where pancakes were currently covered with pieces of tin foil to keep them warm. She pulled the tin foil off, tossing the discarded pieces into the trash before grabbing the extra plate she had ready and bringing it over to the bacon which she began to take off the pan one by one.

"Do you have it all?"

Y/N hesitated at that, the question ringing through her ears and swirling within her head. She was too busy thinking that she didn't even register the sound of footsteps until two arms were snaking around her waist, lips gently pressing against his neck and leaving a soft kiss  where the lingering ghosts from the night before still peppered her skin.

Yes, she wanted to say. I have everything I could ever want.

Y/N let out a soft sigh of content, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned back against Max, her free hand sliding up into his hair while he moved his lips up her neck and towards her cheek where he left a gentle kiss. "Good morning," Max whispered, his lips brushing against her ears and making her shiver before he was burying his face into her neck while he held her close.

"Morning," Y/N replied a little breathlessly, not being able to help the effect Max always seemed to have on her. She could feel his fingers trailing down her side, gently lifting up the night shirt of his that she had thrown on so that his hands could glide across her skin. He held her waist then, his thumbs rubbing soft circles against her skin while Y/N struggled to pull herself out of the daze she was already falling into.

The smell of bacon was the only thing keeping her from falling into a mess right then and there and she didn't hesitate to pull the rest of the bacon off the pan and on to the plate. She then moved the pan off to the side, quickly shutting off the stove before turning towards her boyfriend—the one and only Maxwell Lord.

He was already dressed to impress, his usual suit hugging his body and his blonde hair styled back to perfection. His brown eyes shone down on her, twinkling as they always did when he looked at her. Then there was that smile, a smile that was very similar to the one on TV but with an extra component reserved just for her. He was a sight to behold, his beauty something that never failed to make her heart skip a beat.

Y/N barely had time to smile before Max was pulling her closer by her waist, his head ducking down to close the distance and capture her lips with his own. She instantly responded, her eyes fluttering closed while her hands reached up to wrap around his neck and pull him closer if that was even possible.

It was a simple kiss, one that still managed to make her breathless while also preventing her from forgetting the food that she had spent a while making while Max got ready for work.

Max pulled away first, his smile never leaving his face as he looked at her before he wrapped both arms around her waist and nodded towards the TV where his commercial was just ending. "You like the new commercial? Same words, just a different concept," he explained.

Y/N smiled and let her hand cup his cheek, her thumb gently caressing the skin there as she said, "It's perfect because you're in it."

Max jokingly rolled his eyes at that, pulling away from the girl in order to help grab the rest of the plates and utensils they would need while Y/N grabbed their coffee and a bottle of syrup for the pancakes. Max set his things down before pulling the chair out for Y/N to sit in. She let out a quiet mutter of thanks while he just pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek and sat down beside her.

The two were like a well oiled machine as they got their food situated, neither of them even saying anything as they automatically began passing things to one another that they knew they would need for their food. Before long they were already eating, Max letting out a small moan of delight before whispering, "Honey, you've outdone yourself again. I still think you should quit your job at the museum and open your own restaurant or maybe even a bakery."

"You only say that because you don't want to cook it yourself," Y/N teased, raising her eyebrows at the boy with a teasing smile while he simply winked at her.

"Maybe the half about me not wanting to cook is true, but the half about me only saying it's great because of that is a lie. You seriously know how to cook," Max insisted earning a small chuckle from the girl.

"Well I'm glad you love it so much and I guess you must be right if you've been able to stick with my cooking for almost three years now," Y/N admitted, noticing the way Max's smile grew a little when she mentioned how long they had been together.

"I'm always right," Max insisted earning a small eye roll from the girl which made him chuckle. He bit into a piece of bacon as he lifted up his watch to check the time. "Shit," he muttered, already turning to his plate and beginning to pile all of his dishes on top of it. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I really have to head to work."

Y/N frowned at that, having not noticed it was already time for him to leave. "Really?" she asked, attempting to sound curious and not whiny. "Is it already time?"

Max knew what she was doing and let out a small chuckle as he set his dishes in the sink with the intent to clean them later when he got home. "Sadly, yes," he told her. "And if my calculations are correct, you have about half an hour before you need to head to work and unless you want to work in my shirt all day you might want to get ready. Not that I'm complaining."

Y/N turned to him at that, rolling her eyes at the smirk that dawned his face as he not so subtly looked her up and down. She looked away with a sigh and stood up muttering, "I wish we didn't have to work. I'd much rather spend the day here with you."

"I know, sweetheart," Max sighed, taking one last sip of his coffee before rinsing out the cup and setting it in the sink. "But we have to."

"Life is good," Y/N said before pointing to her boyfriend half heartedly and making the face she was so used to him doing on TV. "But it can be better."

Max gave her a small smile at that before walking over and pulling her in for a hug, one hand holding her head against his chest while his other arm was wrapped around her waist. Y/N closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in, Max's scent instantly filling her senses and making her feel more relaxed than before.

Y/N then glanced up at the man who smiled and leaned down to kiss her. She instantly kissed back, her hands beginning to slide up his chest and inching their way towards his hair. However, before she could deepen the kiss and somehow convince him to skip work for the day, Max was already pulling away with an apologetic smile.

"I really have to go," he told her. "I'm going to be late if I don't."

"Right," Y/N agreed. "We're still on for dinner tonight after work, right?"

"Of course," Max assured her, smiling as she pressed one more kiss to his lips.

"Good. Have a great day. I love you," Y/N said, kissing him once more which in turn made Max chase after her lips to prolong the kiss.

"And I love you," he whispered before quickly pulling away and grabbing the last of his things. He went for the door and pulled it open before glancing back at Y/N who was standing in the doorway hugging her body with a small smile on her face. She lifted her hand and waved it ever so slightly in goodbye. Max smiled and sent her one last wink before disappearing out the door and leaving Y/N behind.

The girl stood there for a little while after he had left, her thoughts consisting of nothing but her boyfriend. She couldn't help but be slightly upset for this was what every morning was like,  Max rushing off to work while they were still in the middle of breakfast. And she knew she wouldn't be able to see him until that night.

Luckily it was a date night which meant he would get off early just to eat with her, but most of the time he would be at the office until so late that by the time he got back it would be time for them to go to sleep and repeat the whole process again.

The weekends were the only days she truly got to spend a lot of time with him, but those were also the days that they were in charge of watching over his son Alistair which meant she didn't really get to have him to herself very often. Y/N never complained about it, but sometimes she wished he didn't always have to rush off or wasn't always so busy.

She just wanted to be able to spend a little more time with him was all, especially at this time since he hadn't always used to be so busy in the three years she had been with him. Lately he had just been going through a lot of things at work and he kept referring to some project that he was trying to get started, but wouldn't tell her what it was because he wanted to surprise her when it was ready.

Max's reminder of work was what kept her from getting lost in her thoughts for too long and Y/N quickly went back to the kitchen to put away the leftovers and clean up the dishes. Once she was done, she went to hers and Max's shared room and got ready, throwing on a nice blouse, jeans, and heels like always.

As she put her earrings in, her eyes flickered over to the picture frame on their dresser, her eyes lingering on the photo of her and Max from a gala the year prior. Max was kissing her cheek, an arm wrapped around her waist and holding her close while she smiled towards the camera and kept a hand upon his chest. It was almost funny to think that back then she still hadn't even moved in with the man yet. Now here she was sharing an apartment with him and wishing for the day that he finally decided to pop the question.

Brushing away all thoughts of Max, Y/N checked her appearance in the mirror one last time before grabbing her bag and heading off to work. She had been blessed enough to work at the Smithsonian Museum for a while now and was probably one of the few people on the planet who really didn't mind working. It was just the having to get ready part instead of staying in bed that got to her.

By the time she reached the Smithsonian, Y/N was already looking forward to her day. She was so lost in her thoughts about what she planned to do that she didn't even notice the person trying to go in the door at the same time as her until she had accidentally bumped into them.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry," Y/N quickly said, snapping out of her thoughts and glancing to her side where she was met with a warm smile. "Oh, Diana, good morning."

Diana Prince's smile didn't waver as she looked to the girl. "Good morning, Y/N, and it's really no problem. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings," she insisted.

"I assure you it was my bad," Y/N said with a small laugh. "I've just been lost in thought all morning and was kind of going through the motions."

"Is everything alright?" Diana asked curiously.

"Yes, yes, everything's fine," Y/N assured her. "I've just been trying to figure out my schedule for the day so that I'm able to go to dinner with my boyfriend tonight."

For a moment Y/N was sure she saw a flicker of sadness in Diana's eyes, but it was gone before she could fully register it was even there. "Ah, trying to juggle your work life and dating life can be hard," Diana agreed while Y/N let out a small sigh of agreement.

"You have no idea," Y/N said, the two girls chuckling softly before Y/N grabbed the door and held it open. Diana gave her a smile in thanks before walking inside. The girl followed after and was about to engage Diana in another conversation when she noticed that the woman was already gone.

Blinking, Y/N looked around for a moment before brushing off the interaction. After all, it wasn't unusual for Diana to disappear when the conversations became a little too friendly. Y/N didn't blame her. It was obvious Diana wasn't looking for a friend and she wasn't going to force her into any sort of friendship that she didn't want.

Y/N let her eyes wander around the museum as she headed for the back rooms, smiling slightly at all the history that surrounded her and the kids who pointed towards different exhibits in awe. It was only when she got to the back rooms that she reminded herself to focus, instantly heading towards the front desk where she began to pick up her papers for the day and any mail that had come in for her.

She was in the middle of flipping through her mail when she heard the sound of papers hitting the ground behind her. Y/N blinked before turning around, a curious look in her eyes before she noticed a blonde on the ground struggling to pick up her papers.

"Hey, Jake!" the blonde said, eyes locked on her coworker who was walking by at that very moment. "Jake, hi! Can you. . .can you. . .?" she began, but the man merely gave her a look before walking away.

Y/N rolled her eyes at Jake's behavior, not necessarily surprised since he wasn't exactly the kindest person there. She let her gaze shift back over to the blonde who was muttering to herself with a disappointed look on her face.

The woman didn't hesitate to set her stack of papers down before walking over and helping the girl pick her own papers up. The blonde blinked in surprise and glanced up, her eyes locking with Y/N’s as she sent her a smile and said, "Good morning."

"G-Good morning," the blonde replied, still stunned at the fact that someone was helping her and someone as beautiful as Y/N no doubt. Another pair of hands joined in and the blonde's eyes grew even more at the sight of Diana who flashed her a grin as she too helped pick the papers up.

"Hi," the blonde said to the two, still looking at them in slight shock. "Thank you."

"Diana Prince, cultural anthropology and archeology," Diana said as she reached out to shake the blonde's hand.

"Y/N L/N," Y/N greeted next with a warm smile as she too shook the blonde's hand. "Anthropology and curator."

"Barbara Minerva. Geology, gemology, lithology, and part-time cryptozoologist," the blonde said with a smile.

"Woah," Y/N said with a small laugh. "That's amazing."

"I kept busy in college," Barbara explained, quickly diverting her gaze as she grabbed the last of her papers and stood up. Diana and Y/B followed, each of them handing Barbara the papers they had managed to pick up. "Sorry. It's these heels, you know. It's stupid. I don't know why I was gonna wear heels. Scientists don't wear heels."

"Sometimes we do," Diana told her with a kind smile.

"Makes things fun," Y/N said, winking at the blonde. "And it might be just me, but I love the sound of my heels clicking down the hallway."

Barbara let out another nervous laugh, feeling slightly intimidated by the two gorgeous women in front of her who were both wearing heels. "Right. Right. Those are cool," Barbara said, pointing towards Diana's cheetah print heels. "I like those. Animal prints." She then did a small growl and Diana and Barbara both awkwardly laughed while Y/N let out a small breath and reached over to grab her stack of papers from the table nearby.

"Do you want to get lunch?" Barbara asked suddenly, her eyes flickering between the two women who blinked in surprise.

"I, uh. . ." Diana began, already sending the rejection that made Barbara's smile deflate a bit.

"Not now, obviously. It's morning. But later today, or whenever. Like, around. . .Like, at lunchtime?" she asked, hope still flickering in her eyes.

Y/N felt a wave of guilt wash over her and she gave the girl an apologetic smile as she said, "I'm so sorry, Barbara. I actually have to work through lunch today so I can get some stuff done."

"And I have a lot of work today as well," Diana said. "But maybe some other time?" Y/N nodded her head in agreement, both of them looking to Barbara who was obviously trying to hide her disappointment.

"Oh. Yeah, I'm busy today, too," Barbara muttered making Y/N feel ever worse.

"Great," Diana said, but before any of them could say anymore, their boss Carol came walking up, her fingers pointing towards Diana and Y/N.

"Ah! Diana, Y/N, do you happen to know who a Barbara Minerva is?" Carol asked, genuine confusion upon her face.

"Oh, hi, Carol. Hi!" Barbara exclaimed, forcing her smile on to her face despite the confused look upon Carol's face. "It's me. I'm Barbara. Remember? You hired me. Started last week."

"Oh!" Carol exclaimed, although Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that Carol really didn't remember her. "Gemologist?"

"Yes. And zoologist," Barbara added. "We had a couple interviews."

"Yeah. Well, the FBI are gonna drop off some artifacts later this afternoon," Carol told her causing both Y/N and Barbara's eyes to widen while Diana suddenly walked back over to the conversation.

"The FBI?" Barbara asked while Y/N let out a breath of disbelief.

"Wow," the girl muttered, knowing that whatever it was that the FBI had to bring in had to be good.

"Yeah. Yes," Carol told her.

"They're coming here?" Barbara asked, still in shock.

"The mall heist yesterday, apparently they were using a jewelry store as a front," Carol explained.

"Front for what?" Diana questioned and even Y/N found herself taking a small step forward out of curiosity and anticipation.

"Black market. Stolen jewels and art meant for private buyers. But we could use your help identifying one in particular," Carol explained, gesturing towards Barbara who smiled widely.

"My help?" Barbara asked before laughing. "Yeah, I'll help the FBI with whatever they need."

"Is that a yes?" Carol asked, obviously wanting to get the conversation over with.

"Yes. I would, um. . .I would love to assist you," Barbara told her.

"Wonderful. It's nice to meet you," Carol said before walking away.

"We've met," Barbara lowly called after her, her smile disappearing into a look of utter defeat.

Y/N watched the blonde for a moment before reaching out and placing a friendly hand upon the girl's shoulder. "Don't worry about, Carol. She treated me the same way when I first started working here," she tried to assure her earning a small grateful smile from Barbara in return. "I really am sorry about lunch, but I'll try and stop by later and talk to you for a bit if that's alright?"

Barbara's eyes lit up at that, her smile widening as she said, "Yes, yes! I would. . .uh, I would love that."

Y/N gave the woman a small nod before beginning to back away. "I'll see you then," she told her before turning and going to head to her office.

"Have a nice day," Diana said as she too turned to leave.

"Bye, Y/N. Bye, Diana," Barbara called after them, a small smile dawning her features all because of the two friendly faces that had made her feel not so invisible for the first time in a long time.

- - -

Y/N let out a small sigh of triumph as she leaned back in her chair, her eyes slowly flickering over the now finished work that she had laying on her desk. It seemed she was going to not only be off in time for dinner with Max, but now an hour earlier than she had expected. All she really had to do was go see Barbara like she had promised and then she would be free to go.

The woman had a little bit of a pep in her step as she got up and began to clean up her desk, putting away the papers that needed to be filed and sending the last couple of emails that she had written throughout the day.

It was when she was in the middle of filing the last of her papers that her phone went off. She didn't even bother looking at the caller ID as she picked it up and said, "This is Y/N L/N speaking."

"Good afternoon, Miss L/N. This is Raquel, Mr. Lord's secretary," the woman on the other end of the line said, her voice just a tiny bit shaky.

"Yes! Raquel. How are you, dear?" Y/N asked, not really paying full attention to the girl for she was too busy trying to file her stack of papers in her hand.

"I'm doing good, Miss L/N. Mr. Lord asked me to call you and deliver a message for you. He's really sorry, but he won't be able to make it to dinner tonight," Raquel said, her words making Y/N freeze almost instantly.

Raquel then went into this big discussion on how Max was held up at work and wouldn't be able to get home until later that night. Y/N could only stand there and listen as the girl rambled, her eyes closing as she sat down at her desk and leaned her forehead against her hand.

"Miss L/N?" Raquel's voice echoed through her ears.

"I'm here. I'm here," Y/N assured her before she let out a small sigh and sat back up in her chair. "Thanks for letting me know, Raquel. If you don't mind just letting Max know that we can just reschedule and that I'll see him when he gets home tonight, that would be great."

"Of course, Miss L/N," Raquel said. "Have a wonderful day."

"You too, Raquel. Don't let Max push you around too much, okay?" Y/N asked.

There was a small chuckle on the other end of the line before Raquel said, "Of course, Miss L/N."

Y/N smiled softly and pulled the phone away before setting it down to end the call. She sat there for a moment after that, momentarily glancing at the paperwork that she had so desperately tried to finish that day only for it really to mean nothing in the end.

Although, she really shouldn't be surprised. This had become an often occurrence in the past couple of months.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N got back up and made no effort to work quickly as she put the rest of the papers away. When she was done, she collected all of her things and made her way to where she knew Barbara would be dealing with the new artifacts.

To her surprise, Diana was already in there with the blonde, the both of them standing over a small box as Barbara muttered, "Here it is."

"What is it?" Diana asked while Y/Nnodded in greeting to a few of the workers as she walked over to the two girls.

"Um. . .Uh. . .I can't tell. Some light," Barbara muttered as she moved a lamp over the box.

"Whatever it is. It's kind of pretty," Y/N spoke up causing Barbara to jump in surprise before smiling once she saw that it was Y/N.

"Y/N, you came," Barbara said in slight surprise.

"Of course. I told you I would, didn't I?" Y/N replied, smiling softly at the girl who only blinked with a look of disbelief on her face as if she couldn't understand that someone had actually wanted to talk to her.

"R-Right, of course you did," Barbara laughed awkwardly. "Uh. . .I was just showing this to Diana. It's the artifact that they wanted help identifying. I think the technical term here is 'extremely lame.'" She laughed in defeat while Y/N and Diana both chuckled softly with her. "Um. . .It's. . .It's citrine. A classic stone used in fakes throughout history," Barbara told them, gently picking the stone up and sighing softly. "I can't imagine this is worth any more than $75. What do you think?”

"Fakes aren't my forte, but let me see," Diana said, taking the stone from Barbara and beginning to examine it. "Mmm. Latin."

"At least it's an antique, right?" Barbara suggested.

"Or a purchase from a stall on the Ponte Vecchio last week," Diana retorted. "You never know."

"I wonder what it says," Y/N admitted, carefully reaching out to run her fingers across the Latin words while Diana kept the stone in her grasp.

"'Place upon the object held but one great wish,'" Diana read off earning a surprised look from both Barbara and Y/N as the later girl pulled away.

"You read Latin?" Barbara asked.

"Yeah. Yeah. Languages are a hobby," Diana explained.

"Wow and here my hobby is watching TV until the sky is suddenly screaming good morning to me," Y/N muttered between laughs which Barbara and Diana quickly joined in.

"So maybe it's, like, a lucky charm or something?" Barbara suggested.

"Yeah, I guess. Strange," Diana said, letting her eyes flicker over the rest of the objects upon the table and the box the stone came from.

One of Barbara's coworkers Roger must have overheard because he walked over and placed his hand upon the stone before saying, "I really wish I had a coffee."

Y/N cracked a smile at that while Barbara laughed a little too hard for Roger's joke and said, "You're funny."

It was at that moment that another coworker walked in and said, "Hey, I got Erika a coffee, but she's out sick. Does anybody want this?"

Roger blinked before laughing and looking back over at Diana, Barbara and Y/N, "What? Yeah, I'll take one." He took the coffee happily and went to take a sip as he walked away, "Ooh, hot! Hot, hot!"

Y/N watched the man go, furrowing her eyebrows slightly before glancing back at the stone that was in Diana's hands. Barbara let out a small gasp of disbelief, "Did you see that? Can you imagine?"

"If only," Diana whispered.

"Hmm. So many things, I don't even know what I would wish for," Barbara admitted.

Y/N smiled softly as she stared at the stone in Diana's hand before lowering her gaze and moving to look at the other artifacts. She knew exactly what she would wish for if given the chance—to spend more time with Max and Alistair, the two people in the world who made her the happiest she had ever been each time she saw them.

"I do," Diana said, a distant look in her eyes before she set the stone back down. "Well, um, anyway, sorry to bother you. If you need anything, I'm around."

"Oh, yeah, I'm good," Barbara told her. "But thank you for. . ."

"That's okay. It's my job. And I'll look into it more when I have a chance," Diana replied.

"Okay. Well, thanks for. . .talking to me," Barbara added before glancing towards Y/N. "The both of you." She let out an awkward chuckle and looked down bashfully. "I'm. . .I'm sorry, uh. . .I mean, I'm fine."

"You know, we could go and grab early dinner and talk about exactly how lame that stone is," Diana suggested, her words making Barbara look back up at her in surprise.

"Really?" Barbara asked, her voice barely above a whisper and sounding so fragile.

"Yeah, I mean, citrine? Who are they kidding, right?" Diana joked.

"So lame," Barbara agreed between laughs.

"Dorky," Diana added.

"Lame," Barbara said. "That's, like, the lamest of lames."

"Yeah, let's go," Diana told her and Y/N watched as the two began to leave before biting her lip nervously and then running after them.

"Hey, uh. . .if it okay if I come too?" Y/N asked. "My dinner plans kind of flopped and I'd really like to make up for the missed lunch."

Diana watched her silently and Y/N knew she was thinking back to what she had said about going to dinner with Max, but Barbara was already smiling and saying, "Y-yeah. Of course."

Y/N smiled widely. "Great," she said, falling into line with the other two women as they began to head out the building. "Thank you."

And with that, the three made their way out of the building and off to dinner while Barbara silently thanked whoever was looking out for her for putting the two amazing women in her life.

- - -

Y/N had to hold back a snort as she leaned back in her chair, laughter shaking her body while she tried to ignore the fact that maybe she had one too many drinks than she should've.

"Wow. You're so funny," Diana said as she looked to Barbara, Y/N quickly nodding in agreement.

"Oh. Thank you," Barbara said a bit surprised seeing as no one had ever told her that before.

"My sides hurt," Y/N admitted, using her hand to brush her hair out of her face as her eyes sparkled at the girls. "I think my smile is now permanently on my face."

"I've got to agree with, Y/N. Wow. I mean, no one's made me laugh like this in such a long time. I mean, it's true, I don't get out much socially, but—" Diana began, but Barbara gave her a loo of disbelief.

"You don't get out much?" Barbara asked.

"No, not really. No," Diana said and Y/N had to hold back her utter of agreement for she knew how anti-social Diana could be if she wanted to, but she didn't want to let her know that she had noticed it.

"I'm sorry," Barbara laughed. "I'm just surprised. Because you just seem like the kind of person who's, like, always out. Like, people are asking you to go out all the time and you live out. You're just out."

The three laughed at that as Barbara began making hand gestures, "Like, you never get in. You just seem like you'd be really popular. And I would know because I've never been popular."

Y/N frowned a little at that, feeling a pang of sympathy for the girl who no one really seemed to give a chance to. "I wasn't popular much either," Y/N assured her. "It happens to the best of us."

That made Barbara laugh and Diana joined before saying, "I'm surprised you two haven't. You're both so personable. So. . .free. I mean, honestly, I gotta say that I envy that."

"What?" Barbara laughed in disbelief. "You envy me? That doesn't make any sense. Oh, my gosh. People think I'm weird. They avoid me and talk behind my back when they don't think I can hear them. I'm like, 'Guys, I can hear you.'" The blonde looked down at that, awkward laughs escaping her lips while both Diana and Y/N looked at her sympathetically.

"Barbara, my life hasn't been what you probably think it has. We all have our struggles," Diana told her.

"She's right. As much as I wish it were true, no one's got a perfect life," Y/N sighed. "Life is good, but it can be better," she whispered like a mantra.

"Yeah, it just sucks," Barbara said and Y/N chuckled softly at that. The blonde let her eyes flicker over to her new friend and she gave her a curious look, "So Y/N, you mentioned earlier that you were supposed to be getting dinner with your man, what happened if you don't mind me asking?"

Said girl let out a soft sigh, her eyes focusing on the glass of wine in her hand and the way the liquid spun as she slowly moved it. "He got caught up at work," she explained with a sad smile.

"You don't sound surprised," Barbara pointed out.

Y/N glanced up to find both women staring intently at her and she just shrugged. "It's happened quite a bit lately, but it's okay," she said. "He's had a lot to deal with, so I'm not mad or anything. I just miss him is all."

"I'm sorry," Barbara frowned. "I know it must be hard."

"It is," Y/N admitted with a sad laugh.

"How long have you guys been together?" Diana asked.

"We'll be coming up on three years next month," Y/N replied, a genuine smile appearing on her lips as she thought about what an accomplishment that was and how lucky she was to have Max.

"Three years? Wow. You must really be in love with the guy," Barbara teased.

"Yeah," Y/N said with a small blush, her thoughts suddenly being consumed with everything that had to do with Max. "He's the love of my life and he has this kid who is just the greatest. I'm very lucky with what I have. I just wish we were able to spend more time together, you know?"

"I get it," Barbara told her, reaching out to gently squeeze the girl's hand in comfort before glancing at Diana. "What about you, Diana, you ever been in love?"

"Uh. . .Yeah. A long, long time ago," Diana told her. "You?"

"So many times, yeah. All the time. Often," Barbara replied instantly making Y/N chuckle softly despite the ache in her heart that had reappeared at the thought of Max. "So what happened? Where'd he go, your guy?"

"He, uh. . .He died," Diana explained, her words making Y/N still. She couldn't imagine the type of pain Diana had to be going through. She didn't know what she would do if Max ever passed away. "But I still think sometimes that I see him up there in the sky. He was a pilot."

"Oh!" Barbara exclaimed.

"That sounds fun," Y/N told the girl. "I bet he was an amazing guy."

"He was all kinds of things, but he was great. It was true," Diana said.

"I get it," Barbara said, her eyes flickering between the two women who were invisibly now thinking about theirs guys. The blonde was quick to pick up her drink, smiling at the two as she said, "Well, cheers to us. Wishing us better luck, I guess."

Y/N smiled softly at that before clinking her glass with the two beside her, but she would only be there in spirit for the rest of the dinner for her thoughts would be on Maxwell Lord.

Just like they always were.

- - -

By the time Y/N got home from dinner, she wanted nothing more than to curl into the embrace of the man that she loved. She knew she should be mad at him for ditching her once again, but she knew what it was like to be busy at work and would never blame him for working hard like he did.

However, she couldn't stop the small pit of despair that was growing in her stomach once she got back to their shared apartment only for the lights to still be off and for Max to be no where in sight.

The girl let out a soft sigh before walking towards their bedroom, stripping off her work clothes in favor of something more comfortable before pulling her hair back into a ponytail as she plopped down on the couch to watch a little TV while she waited for Max to get home.

It was at least another hour before the door opened up, Max tiredly shuffling inside before closing the door behind him. Y/N could already tell that he was tense and she frowned before slowly getting up from the couch, her eyes trailing over the man as he took his jacket off and went to hang it up.

Y/N came up from behind him, her arms snaking around his waist so that she could hug him from behind. She felt him relax under her touch, a small sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back into her while she rested her head against his back.

He sounded tired, but she could still practically hear the smile on his face as he said, "Hey there, sweetheart."

"Hi, Maxie," Y/N whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his back. "How was work?"

"Stressful," Max admitted with a small laugh. "I'm sorry about dinner. I just had a lot I had to deal with today and I didn't realize how long it would take."

"It's alright," she assured him, but Max was already turning around so that he could gently cup the side of her face.

"It's really not and I promise I will make it up to you, alright?" he told her and although she knew he would only forget just like the other times, Y/N still gave him a small nod and a smile in response.

Max smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips, his arm slowly snaking around her waist and pulling her closer before he pulled away and went to sit down on the couch. He held onto her hand and dragged her along beside him, pulling her down into his lap as he wrapped his arms around her waist and looked to her with a small smile.

"How was your day?" he asked. "A lot better than mine, I hope."

"It was the same as every other day," she told him, her eyes closing slightly in content as he pressed a small kiss to her neck before holding her tight and resting his face in the crook of her neck. "Just a lot of paperwork as always. I met a new coworker today at work named Barbara and went to dinner with her and Diana."

Max hummed in response before muttering, "Sounds like fun."

"It was," Y/N said. "Oh, and we got a shipment from the FBI with all of these cool artifacts."

Max hesitated at that and pulled his head away from her neck in order to look at her. His eyes sparkled with curiosity as he asked, "What kind of artifacts?"

Knowing that her boyfriend was intrigued, Y/N smiled and continued, not seeming to notice the way Max looked off into space as she spoke. "Apparently the mall heist the other day revealed the jewelry store was selling stuff on the black market. We got a big shipment of all sorts of artifacts. I only got to glance at a few, but there was this one gemstone looking one that I saw with this engraving on it. Diana said it mentioned something about making wishes with it and—"

It was then that she noticed Max's behavior, the way he was just staring off while being so quiet she would've assumed he was asleep if it weren't for the fact that his eyes were still open. "Max?" she questioned, her gaze flickering over him until he finally seemed to hear her voice and blinked himself back to reality.

His eyes flickered her way and she gave him a confused look. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Of course," he told her, sending that smile of his in her direction that made her heart skip a beat. "I just love listening to you talk is all." He pulled her closer to his body if that was even possible, pressing a small kiss to her cheek before whispering, "I love you."

Y/N didn't even have time to blink before he was closing the distance between them, his lips capturing hers perfectly while his hands slowly moved under her shirt before resting upon her hips. She couldn't help the way that her eyes fluttered closed and she knew her face was heating up due to the intensity of the kiss that literally came out of no where.

When Max pulled away, Y/N was sure her face had gone bright red, but thankfully the only light in the room was coming from a lamp nearby which meant that her blush was semi-hidden by the darkness.

"What was that for?" she asked breathlessly.

Max just shrugged with a small smile as he whispered, "I love you."

"Yeah, yeah," she chuckled, her eyes fluttering closed once again as he felt him slowly begin to kiss down her neck. She leaned back with a heavy sigh while Max smirked against her skin.

"I love you so much," Max whispered, his emotions heightened even more as he tried to process how his beautiful girlfriend had been able to help him achieve his dream without even realizing it.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh as she opened her eyes to look at the man, taking note of the way his eyes seemed to sparkle as he stared at her. "Oh, really? How much?" Y/N asked, smirking at the man who merely chuckled before pulling her up off the couch with him.

His eyes were practically flashing at her as he slowly began to back her towards their bedroom, his lips curving up into a smile as he whispered, "Let me show you."

- - -

Tag List

@blogforhoes @mrschiltoncat @haileyybird @vampgguk @buckysalefty @elfwoodfae @imcalledflorence @skullchik89

#wonder woman 1984 #wonder woman x reader #wonder #woman #Wonder Woman #ww1984 #ww84 #diana prince #steve trevor #gal gadot #chris pine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord imagine #maxwell lord #alistair lord

[tobiosmilktea]

high fidelity — kuroo tetsurou

3.9k words | genre: fluff | warning/s: terrible writers block writing, ooc kuroo cause i suck | pairing: kuroo x gn!reader

↪︎ in which being the only two employees at a small record store meant that you and kuroo worked together almost every day. and not a single day has passed that you didn’t find your coworker absolutely insufferable. you think he’s annoying, and he thinks you’re cute. in reality, kuroo just sucks at flirting.

a/n: is the plot a bit of a mess? lowkey yeah, but ykw that’s okay cause i needed something stupid to write. this was also a bit self-indulgent cause homegirl just got employed at a record store (yay)

fucking tired—is what you would tell kuroo in the means of his grand intervention to mess with his favorite coworker of all time. granted, you were his only coworker in the infamously meager record store down some random alleyway in downtown tokyo.

those six words were how you would describe how you felt at that very moment. busy with doing what you were employed on doing rather than sitting around and snacking on some trail mix. one would assume that working at a rather small establishment meant little to no work, especially in hours where it was slow with no customers roaming up and down the aisles, but god were you wrong. you were the only one on the shift actually busting your ass off on the floor and at the register while all kuroo does is change the music playing on the store’s overhead speakers and hangs out.

sure, he does do his fair share of work here and there. occasionally he would even take over most of the manual labor of carrying all the new shipments of heavy vinyl records for the sake of courtesy, but at the end of the day, it was always you who would have to restock the displays every time.

so much for being a gentleman.

your feet hurt, your legs ached, your arms were sore. you were just glad that kuroo finally decided to get his ass up and actually walk around for once. he probably wasn’t planning on doing any work, simply just meandering through the aisles of vinyl just to see what to buy next with his 20% off employee discount. you honestly couldn’t care less. what you did care about was that the stool behind the cash register (aka the only place to sit inside the entire building) was finally free.

you settled yourself behind the counter, a sigh escaping your lips as your chin rested atop the palm of your hand.

you finally had a chance to rest. yet despite taking this rare opportunity, you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit bored now that the store was practically deserted. then again, what did you expect from working at a small business? not to mention, it’s the twenty-first century and all forms of media was digitized and easily accessible by a single internet search. there were, however, a few old souls out there, still in love with the idea of having a physical copy of their favorite artist’s work.

you were easily one of those people.

there was something so endearing listening to strangers talk about their love for music—it’s why you started working here at TRAX in the first place as a sorry excuse to surround yourself with the physical embodiments of the best invention mankind has ever made. hell, you still had the old walkman that your father gave to you. it was from the 90s with its gray plastic chipping at the corners and scratched-off lettering. you even had his old cassette tapes always in your bag whenever you go out.

regardless, the quietness of the store wasn’t at all bad at times. if anything, you were fortunate that kuroo wasn’t annoying the shit out of you like he normally does—poking at your cheeks and teasing you to no end. in fact, it was a nice break from the overstimulation of the occasional busy hours that come out of the blue. from old men mansplaining how record players work to annoying middle schoolers trying to blast their terrible soundcloud songs on the store’s bluetooth speakers. perhaps the slow hours were a godsend.

it was absolute hell trying to chase those annoying thirteen-year-olds out of the store with the help of kuroo. causing a ruckus or not, the situation was a bit funny at the end. it was one of those rare moments you and kuroo shared a genuine laugh together.

a sigh escapes your lips then as you take out your walkman, plugging in the old headphones that came with it. the black, plastic ones with thin muffs whose wires tangle no matter how much you try not to. you place them over your ears.

today’s mood was classic 80s rock, something along the lines of queen, guns n’ roses, and journey beating into your ears as you let your eyelids rest for a few seconds.

however, your means to relax was immediately shut down when a hand snatches your headphones off of your ears.

“ouch,” you groan as the plastic of the headset scratched at your temple. you look over your shoulder at your coworker with confusion plastered all over your face. “what was that for?”

kuroo blinks with a sly smile on his face, “those things still exist?”

you flick him a look, “what do you want?”

“you don’t get paid to sleep on the job, you know.” kuroo gives you a pointed look as he hands you back your headphones.

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. the audacity. “i get paid by the hour and the store is literally empty right now,” you defend as you click your walkman on pause, “besides, aren’t you the one slacking all the time?”

“only when the boss isn’t around,” he hums.

“the boss is never around,” you huff.

“speaking of an empty store,” kuroo starts once again, watching you wrap the thin headphone wires around the body of your walkman. “d’you got any spare change?”

your eyes peer at him slightly, “what for?”

“to get a drink from the vending machines down the street, obviously.” replied kuroo.

yet another sigh left your lips, licking at its dryness as you reached into your pocket to reveal a few fifty-yen coins. it wasn’t much, but it wasn’t like anything from the vending machines in the city was that expensive. just anything to get him off your back again for peace of mind. “get me a one too while you’re at it,” you mutter, tossing the coins into his palm.

“why don’t you just come with me?” he asks, curious.

you shake your head, “i can’t leave the store unattended.”

kuroo clicks his tongue, feigning himself from rolling his eyes and just tugging you along with him. “come on, it’s not like there are any customers.” he gestures onto the barren floor as if its emptiness wasn’t already obvious enough.

“do i have to?” you groan. you just got comfortable and you weren’t exactly in the mood to walk all the way down the street either.

“yes,” he said sternly, hoping that it was enough to sway you, but surprise surprise! it didn’t. his unsuccessful (and oddly pitiful) attempt at convincing you to come with him caused the corners of kuroo’s lips to dip into a slight pout.

no matter how annoying your coworker was, thinking he wasn’t at all cute or the least bit attractive was a lie. when you look at kuroo, you’re not entirely sure what it was about him that made your heart skip a few beats despite your brain thinking the opposite. was it his sleek obsidian hair that was always styled perfectly? perhaps it was his eyes that were so pretty that if you looked at him for longer than a few seconds, you would be entranced? or maybe it was his witty charm that despite being annoying, you still found his presence nice to be around?

whatever it was, you hated to think there was even the slightest possibility that you liked kuroo more than you would like to admit. and the worst part of it all? perhaps you did like him more than a friend.

and that was the biggest problem.

how annoying, you think.

“pretty please,” he begged, his warm hands suddenly finding yours in the midst of your internalized dilemma and pulling you out of your thoughts.

the action catches you off guard as you snatch your hands back from his abrupt contact. eyes wide and heart beating heavy, you gulped when you noticed how close he was to you then. the action of you pulling away from him only brought kuroo closer like some odd twist in fate.

your thoughts pondered a bit as you looked up at him, still patiently waiting for an answer as he gives you a comforting smile. perhaps kuroo stepped a bit out of line this time, and there’s no doubt he feels a bit bad about it. he was about to pull away and apologize but after your thoughts spiraled for a few seconds you gave in with a nod.

“fine,” you say, lifting yourself off the stool as kuroo steps away from you with a grin. you follow him around the counter, taking your walkman with you as you pass it.

you just hoped no one came by while you two were out. the last thing you wanted to do was get fired all because your annoyingly handsome coworker wanted to get a mid-afternoon beverage.

your shoes muffled gently against the store’s floor—tap, tap, tapping in some form of patterned unison as you and kuroo left the building.

the backroads of downtown were quiet. considerably so compared to the main streets as there was nothing but tweeting birds, whistling cicadas, and an occasional bicycler whizzing by. it was such a nice day, perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to go out after all.

there was something incredibly calming about afternoon strolls down the street, feeling the rays of sunlight beaming down on your face as you further melted into an earth-smearing mood while you unpaused your walkman.

your headphones laid around your neck with the volume set on max this time just so kuroo could listen in. the corner of his lip quirked up a bit as you did so. it was like a nod of approval within a minuscule gesture. then again, you and kuroo always had a similar taste in music—messy and all over the place, but the classics are where you and he truly had the most in common.

the walk there was short and quiet. usually kuroo doesn’t mind being the one to strike up a conversation, but right now, it was as if he was trying to savor something at the moment that you couldn’t really pinpoint.

upon arriving at the rows of vending machines, kuroo slips in a few coins before pressing one of the buttons. he opted for a calpico, watching the can fall from behind the glass before bending down to pick it up. kuroo doesn’t even give you a look before he puts in the rest of your change, let alone ask what you wanted. the boy presses on the button right below a matcha drink—the exact one you were planning on getting.

he bends down when the drink dispenses and hands it to you on beat with the music emitting from your headphones.

“thank you,” you say, a bit dumbfounded as you opened up the can.

the slight confusion was evident on your face as kuroo couldn’t help but find your curiosity absolutely adorable. “i always see you with that drink whenever you come in for work,” he explains, chuckling as he takes a sip from his own. “assumed you liked it a lot.”

you couldn’t help but blush at his words, feeling your heartstrings suddenly tug at the thought that he knows you enough, let alone care to even remember such a minor detail. letting out a shaky breath that you hoped was drowned out by the music, you lamely attempted to hide the crimson red hues on your cheeks as you take a drink.

“i’m surprised you’d even remember something so insignificant about me,” you mutter as you two walk back to the store, yet this time your pace slowed along with his.

it seemed as if you weren’t the only one wanting to spend a little more time like this.

“i mean, it’s you.” kuroo replied, fingers nervously fiddling. “you are my favorite coworker after all.”

which wasn’t at all a lie. it was true. you were his favorite, but it was nothing more than a panicked and questionable explanation in the means of nonchalance. he couldn’t exactly expose himself out of the blue ever since you two talked about what you looked for in a partner. he recalled your words of wanting to find someone who cares about you and can remember every detail about you regardless of what it was. and much of his dismay of explaining his type to be the exact same of your own traits and characteristics, his sorry excuse of casually flirting completely flew over your head.

and if he’s coming to think of it now, all of kuroo’s sorry excuses of flirting probably went over your head. he mentally faced palmed himself. god, you probably thought he was the most irritating guy on the planet.

yet to his rapidly beating heart, you laughed, practically beaming at him. kuroo swears you could literally send him into cardiac arrest. “i’m your only coworker, idiot.” you tease before taking another sip.

he grins.

“gives me an even better reason to care then,” he hums, pulling the door to the store open just to be met with a thunderous shout.

you two were met with the owner of TRAX record store aka your boss. the short, pudgy old man with a receding hairline and a scowl on his face stood by the counter, arms crossed over each other like a disappointed parent.

“where have you two been?” he grunts, his familiar adenoidal and croaky voice ripping through your eardrums as you hurried to pause your walkman. “leaving the store unattended just to get drinks? you two are lucky i got here when i did because a customer just came by!”

your lips purse together nervously as the grip around your can tightened. kuroo notices your unease, giving you an apologetic look. he turns to face igarashi, your boss, “sorry sir, that’s my bad. i was the one who convinced (y/n) to come with me even after they said no.”

“oh really?” your boss tested. his hand came up to his chin to scratch the few strands of beard hair he even had. he scoffs, “of course it is.”

your neck swivels up towards kuroo as guilt melted into your bloodstream. knowing igarashi, he wasn’t the type to lay easy on simple mistakes. it was the only reason why you were glad he wasn’t here often in the first place knowing that he was like a ruthless hawk with eyes that followed you everywhere.

“it’s not entirely his fault, sir. i knew better but i still decided to go.” you muttered, refusing to look kuroo in the eye as he looks at you surprised.

igarashi lets out a huff as his eyes closed for a few seconds, “my therapist told me to take deep breaths whenever i feel as if i am about to lash out,” he explains before pulling himself together. he opens his eyes, tone much calmer now but the words were still like venom. “since you two were at least truthful about it, i will let it go this time, but know it won’t be the next time around. alright?”

you and kuroo nod, “yessir.”

“good. now, i want this place spotless by the time i come back.” with that your boss disappears into the back where he would be for the rest of the night–not helping at all. he stays in the backroom just to nap and to get away from his own unhappy marriage. you just hoped he stayed there until the end of your shift.

with your pulse calming, you took a sip of your matcha drink out of comfort, finishing all of its contents before throwing it into the trash bin. kuroo does the same thing, this time out of the fear of getting in trouble again as for the first time in a long time, you hear him ask you, “should we get to work then?”

you almost wanted to laugh. you were oddly giddy about working alongside him rather than vexed, nodding in response. both of you grab one of the grates of newly shipped records from behind the counter, ready to be put on display as you and kuroo worked down the same aisle.

with your walkman still on hand and your headphones wrapped around your head, you decided to play the cassette tape again just to ease the underlying awkwardness that was still in the air.

when you paused your walkman earlier, it stopped near the beginning of good old fashioned lover boy by queen. and the moment freddie mercury starts vocalizing, you could practically feel the ice around the two of you melt, heads bobbing to the beat as you two worked your way down the jazz aisle.

it went like this for the next hour. songs ranging from artist to artist, humming lightly to the beat of every drum. usually, kuroo wouldn’t last two minutes without complaining about doing work, but for once he didn’t mind knowing that you’re right next to him, mumbling the lyrics together in incoherent unison. if he knew working with you was going to be like this, he wouldn’t have been such a slacker after all. you could honestly say the same thing.

the cassette tape pulls to a stop, reaching the end of its duration as you and kuroo reach the bottom of the crate of vinyl records. as you reach inside to take out the last few albums, a gasp escapes you as your eyes fall onto one of the records. it was one that you have been dying to get for years now.

you put your walkman and headphone set down, grabbing the album.

“no way,” you grinned, capturing kuroo’s attention as he looks over at you curiously. “look, look!”

“tears for fears?” he says as a small switch flickers in his brain. “isn’t that your favorite 80s album?”

you nod, happy to think he even remembered that about you as you rush over to the cash register. you buy the album without a moment of hesitation, already freeing it from its plastic wrap as you reach kuroo again. you open the cover, beaming at its beautiful design. you couldn’t wait until you got home to listen to it.

at the end of every other row, there was a record player display that customers were able to use. taking out the delicate vinyl, you carefully placed it on the player’s mat with delicate fingers. you pick up the needle, hovering it over the edge of the record before placing it down gently.

on either side of the record player, there were hooks to hold headphones. each of which was connected to the machine as you quickly pull kuroo over. taking the headsets from the hooks, you put one of the pairs on before placing the other over kuroo’s ears, tiptoeing just to reach his height. almost immediately one of the most iconic songs of the decade stream into his ears. it was everybody wants to rule the world—one of your favorite songs.

you two stood there in silence, listening to the song’s nostalgic beats as your bodies faced each other. while you were looking over at the spinning black vinyl, kuroo eyes fell on you.

there was absolutely nothing in his wake to be able to take his admiration away as this, this beaming expression on your face had something special about it. it was as if his entire world was right in front of him, just an arms reach away.

his heart couldn’t slow for a minute as he could practically hear it over the music playing in his headphones. his breath gave way then, at the moment you turned to look back up at him with glowing eyes as if you struck gold. you consider yourself lucky being able to get your hands on such a rare vinyl, but kuroo considered himself the winner as he had you.

“do you like this song?” you asked him curiously, ignoring the way your heart started beating rapidly from the way he was looking at you with such care and admiration.

you were so close, you were literally right there. all of kuroo’s emotions that battered onto him like a cumbersome downpour can be relieved if he were to just say the words. a simple phrase, three short words, and a heavy heart beat. ready to leave his tongue and all would be done.

come on, just say it!

“I like you,” he says out of the blue, but his voice was a bit muffled due to the headphones.

your eyebrows furrow slightly, mouth suddenly running dry as your eyes widen.

did he just say what you think he just said?

you are not entirely sure what he said considering his words were partially drowned out by the music. you wanted to think that he did say the words of the impossible, but you couldn’t be so sure of yourself.

“sorry, what did you say?”

kuroo’s hands wrap around your headset, pulling them off of your ears and placing them around your neck. “i said i like you and i wanted to know if you wanted to go out sometime!” he says ratherly loudly. his headphones were still on him blasting tears for fears.

you couldn’t help but laugh, the back of your hand coming up to cover your reddening cheeks. warmth surrounded your heart, like a hug that squeezed at your chest in the most comforting way possible. you raise your hands up, cupping around the shell of his headphones as you pull them off of kuroo.

“you’re so loud,” you mutter.

as if fate decided to push you into the unknown with a strange burst of confidence within you, you got up on your tiptoes and leaned it. pressing your lips against his, soft and light, your skin ignited ablaze.

in a mere moment of serendipity just to test out the waters, you were pulled in deeper, mind blurring in satisfaction. yet it was nothing more than temporary as the sound of infamous footsteps gradually got louder and louder. panicked, you pull away quickly just seconds before igarashi emerges from the aisles, staring bullet holes into you and kuroo.

“i suppose you two are working?”

you nod, pulling your wrists out of kuroo’s grasp.

kuroo quickly answers, “we are, don’t worry.”

your boss lets out a suspicious hum as he gives you two one last look. he turns back around again, disappearing into the back.

a sigh of relief leaves you as you turn back towards the boy in front of you. he still waited for an answer, almost desperate to know as his eyes searched for an answer.

grinning, you pause the record player and kuroo watches it spin to a slow stop. “you’re an idiot,” you say with a laugh.

kuroo doesn’t seem to care at that moment, if anything he was just glad there were no one else was around. his hands wrap around yours again, “well, is that a yes or a no?”

“so that kiss wasn’t obvious enough for you?”

liking someone you found annoying was impossible, but liking your annoying coworker? now, that was a different story.

general taglist: @yongboxerrr @rosepetalhaven @tvwhoresblog @tanakaslastbraincell @kellesvt @kitsunetea @milktyama @anejuuuuoy

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo imagines #kuroo scenarios #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu kuroo #hq kuroo

[axwalker]

If The World Was Ending: Even if he was wicked

Synopsis: When Bianca leaves her son without looking back, Drake has to live on the streets until he finds a home with Angelica Ortiz--Lexie’s grandmother and a foster mom. With the Ortiz, Drake finds a family and falls madly in love, until a tragic night changes everything, threatening the life Drake fought so hard to get.

To catch up (HERE)

Pairing: Drake Walker x Lexie O’Brien (MC) The Royal Romance.

A/N: This will be a very angsty, full of drama, small town romance.

Words: 4,120

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry, except for Lexie’s grandmother and mother.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child neglect, abandonment, sexual assault, prison and a very entitled, “evil” Liam

Due to the several trigger warnings and some of the subjects I’ll be dealing with, I will only tag people who actively asked for it. If you want to be tagged in the following chapters --or untagged, please leave a comment. 

Drake

2008

When I was 12 years old, my mother took off with my little sister leaving me in Cordonia with my father's best friend. I reminded her too much of my father, too much of a life she would do anything to forget. That "anything" included abandoning her oldest son. I'd like to say I was surprised, but the truth is I wasn't. Bianca Walker had never been a motherly woman. The only reason she had taken Savannah with her was that my Aunt Leona adored her. I was sure my mother would dump my little sister on her and never look back. I hoped that was the case, Leona despised me, but she was great to Savannah. 

A short time after that, Bastien passed away and my mother was nowhere to be found. That's when I started to go from one home to another. The first year and a half were the hardest ones. I lived with four different families, each one worse than the last. First, the Lockes, where the family barely talked to me. Then, the Ruiz that made me take cold showers and sleep on the floor. The Godwins where the “mother” used the check the state gave her to buy alcohol instead of groceries. And finally the worse, the Fields. They seemed nice enough when I met them. Not kind but polite. The first few weeks everything seemed normal. Then one day, I got in trouble at school, and Mr. Fields --the pastor of his community, beat me up to “teach me some manners.” His punishments became a usual thing after that. 

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I escaped. Better to be on my own than believe some family was going to love or adopt me. Obviously, there was something very wrong with me. My own mother had left me, and I had never found my place anywhere else. 

I lived on the streets for 6 months. I did all kinds of jobs. Not a lot of them were legal but there were few opportunities for a 14-year-old runaway kid. The most money I got was when I stole car parts that I got to resell to a gang called the Mercy Park Crew. The boss, Mr. Kaneko was fair and paid well enough. I could’ve kept living by myself if something hadn’t got terribly wrong at my last job. One of the boys from a rival gang decided to teach me a lesson and I ended up in the hospital with a concussion. A nurse called social services so here I am in a car with another social worker on the way for another foster home. It doesn’t matter, I know it won’t last anyway. 

When you’ve been in the system as long as I had, you learned to look for certain warning signs when placed in a new home. Drugs, ulterior motives, threatening fathers, drinking mothers. After an hour, we drove through a town looking like something straight out of a movie. Valtoria. I’d heard of it before. The family my dad had been protecting when he died lived there. The house we pulled up to, was a large two-story construction with dark brown siding and an immaculate green lawn. 

Joelle, my new caseworker had popped up out of nowhere in the hospital and told me I was coming with her. Just like that. From the way Joelle talked about the new place, I figured it was some sort of transitional home for rejects like me. Too old to get adopted and too troubled for anyone to voluntarily take on. I didn’t ask her anything else because I knew I didn’t have a fucking choice. Besides, I knew words don’t mean anything. I was a kid in the system. I went where they took me. Sometimes, I hated it. Sometimes, I really hated it. This time was different. In more ways than one. Usually, I was dropped off by my caseworker, and the people receiving me were about as excited as they were about junk mail. No one has ever come out to greet me before. As long as the woman at the door wasn’t sizing me up for a skin suit, it didn’t matter.

The social worker got out of the car as I grabbed the trash bag that I used to carry my shit around. She rang the bell, and a small, older woman opened the door. Joelle had told me in the car that the woman fostered several boys and I knew what that meant. She wanted the money the government gave her for keeping us. Well, I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. If she wanted to cash a check at the end of the month it was going to cost her. I’d make sure of it. 

I had seen it all, but I still was caught by surprise when the tiny woman opened her arms at me and gave me a one-sided hug. A fucking hug. 

“I’m very happy to meet you, mijo,” she said in a strong accent. “My name is Angelica Ortiz but everyone here calls me Abuela. Grandma in Spanish.” 

The woman was deluded if she thought I’d call her grandma. She was obviously trying to impress the social worker with her fake kindness, hugs, and stupid names. I wasn’t going to be fooled that easily. 

I didn’t even answer her as we stepped into the house. Another woman, a younger version of the one staring at me was waiting for us in the living room. 

“Hi, you must be Drake. I’m Elena. Welcome.” She gave me a smile. Fake, I was sure but at least she hadn't tried to hug me. The older woman was talking to Joelle about me. Probably about my problems with authority, anger issues, and lack of communication skills. I knew my file by heart. 

I barely nodded at Elena, and the three women exchanged a look. “Let me take you to your room, Drake. You’ll be sharing it with Maxwell. He’s doing his homework with my daughter in our house across the street. You’ll get to meet all the boys and my daughter Lexie tonight.” 

She walked me to a room on the second floor of the house. It seemed clean and comfortable. Another ploy for the social worker. Two bunker beds with blue blankets and a wooden desk full of books were the biggest pieces of furniture. The left side of the room was covered in posters of who I figured were famous boy bands. There were a few of David Beckham, the only guy I recognized. Other than that there were clothes everywhere. That Maxwell dude was a fucking slob. Great. 

“I told Max to take down some posters so you can decorate half of the room to your liking; This is your room as much as it is his. He's usually much more organized than this." I notice she speaks with a sort of fondness. "It was picture day for the school yearbook and he took hours getting ready. ” 

I shrugged. I wasn’t planning to stay long anyway. I couldn’t care less if that Max kid left his posters on the walls or not. 

She glanced at my garbage bag. “Are those your clothes, mijo?” 

I scowled at her. I knew what mijo meant and I was nobody’s son. “My name is Drake.” 

She smiled. “Of course, Drake. So, are they?”

I didn’t bother with an answer. A nod was enough. 

“I cleared you this part of the closet, so you can keep them there. When you’re ready come downstairs; my mom and I will show you the rest of the house. The boys are out but we’ll all diner together tonight. Do you like Mexican food?”

I shrugged.

The woman smiled. “Shrugging is not an answer, mij- Drake. Either you like it, you don’t, or you haven’t tasted it in which case I can tell you, you’re missing out. Especially when mami cooks.” She winked at me as if we were friends or something. The woman was insane. “So, what is it, Drake?”

I’d never had it before, but she wasn’t going to tell me how to answer a damn question. “I hate it.” 

She frowned --clearly disappointed, and I almost felt bad for her. Almost. “I’m very sorry to hear that. We already made Enchiladas for tonight and we don’t waste food. You can tell us your favorite dish though so we can make it for you.”

I shrugged again. Generally, that's when the person talking to me loses her patience but Elena Ortiz only smiled at me again. “Think about it. Every Sunday night, we pick someone’s favorite and cook it. It’s really fun. Next Sunday will be your first here, so you get to pick. Mami is a great cook and she can make anything from a mean chocolate cake to the best cheese pizza. See you downstairs, honey.” 

Great. I’ve only been in this house for a few minutes, and I already hated it. The only thing worse than a home where you were beaten up as a welcome was a home where people pretended to care. My third foster home had been like that. Ms. Godwin had been all kind and nice at first. I almost felt like she cared about us. A week later, she had gotten drunk. For two days, neither I or the two girls she fostered had anything to eat because she hadn’t bought any groceries. I had to steal a twenty euro bill from her purse to buy food. She got angry and called the social worker who had come for me and taken me to the Fields. The worst home I ever lived in. 

I wasn’t going to go downstairs but I decided that if I wanted a chance to escape it was better if I knew the house. Before I could explore a little, I heard my name from what I assumed was the kitchen. 

Elena was crouching in front of the oven. “Drake has such sad eyes, mami. He’s only 14.” 

The woman that had asked me to call her abuela, answered as she chopped an onion. “This boy has been living in the streets for more than a year. Do you realize it? Pobre angelito. So young and he has already seen more horrors than most people see in a lifetime.” 

“Joelle told me that he had escaped from his last foster home.”

The older woman scoffed. “Home? If that’s how you call people that foster kids only for the money, they get in exchange. I don’t want to imagine why he fled those places." She turned to her daughter who had finished whatever she was doing in the oven and was drinking a bottle of water. "Stop watching me work, Elena and help me with diner, por Dios.”

Why was she pretending she didn’t care about the money? It was obvious. No one did anything for free. There was always a catch. 

“Dónde está mi venadito?”

“Lexie and Max are at our house doing homework, mami. Be careful, though, if Lexie hears you calling her “your little deer” she’ll kill you. The boys called her Bambi for months after they heard you the last time.”

“Nonsense. She’s my venadito and that’s that. You two will come to eat here tonight. I want Drake to meet everyone.”

Elena rolled her eyes but patted her mom on the back. “Yes mami. Lexie is dying to meet him, she and Max made a chocolate cake for him. I’ll call her in a minute. Where are the boys by the way?” 

“Bertie is trying to teach Leo how to drive. Poor boy, I hope he makes it alive.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Leo will be careful. Bertrand will be fine.”

“Oh, it’s not Bertie I’m worried about, it’s Leo. Bartie has no patience with him.” 

I left the kitchen before they said anything else. I was sure I was going to hate this stupid place. I was angry. More than angry. Furious. After a year of successfully running away, I was back in the damn system. Back in yet another home where people seemed to care about me in front of the social worker just to ignore me –or worse, once she left. I had to admit that my new foster “moms” played their part better than most. The old one had hugged me and the other one had given me a smile that seemed real. But I knew better. No one really cared for me. No one gave a shit where I slept, what I ate, or if I was ill or scared. Not that I was ever scared. I had seen everything. 

The front door was locked so I went to the backyard. I saw a small wooden house on top of one of the trees. I decided it was a good place to hide and be myself. 

I sat there for a few moments when I heard someone climbing the tree. 

“Hi!”

I looked up and saw a girl a couple of years younger than me. She had the biggest pair of brown eyes I’ve ever seen and was smiling at me as if I was her best friend. 

“I’m Lexie! I live across the street. I’m Angelica’s granddaughter. You’re Drake, right?” I didn’t think it was possible to smile more but the girl proved me wrong when her grin widened. I simply nodded. 

“Welcome! I know that it must be hard for you to feel at home because you like just arrived but you’ll love it here. I promise. Valtoria is great. We have lakes and the mountains and when it’s warm enough we can go camping all night. You’ll love the house too. I mean between you and me the boys are kind of a pain in the ass but they’re pretty great when they want to. Or when they're not teasing me. Especially Leo and Maxie. Bertrand is a know-it-all. He thinks because he’s sixteen he knows everything." She rolled her eyes clearly offended by the idea that someone could know more than her. "Abuela, that how we all call her because she’s Mexican and would murder us if we call her grandma, is amazing. I mean don’t get me wrong, she's super strict, and as my mom says the woman is never wrong but she’s the best person I know.” 

I blinked. I didn’t know a person could talk that much without taking a single breath. 

“Do you camp?” She asked as she folded her legs in front of her.

I did before. Before my dad died and my whole life blew up in a million pieces. Not that I would explain any of that to the chatty girl, so I just nodded again. 

“Great! It’s getting warmer and Leo wants to go to a new camping site next weekend. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s like the worst camper ever. I have to double-check everything he does but I don’t tell him anymore because my mom said it wasn’t nice.” 

I wondered how could someone carry a whole conversation by herself. I hadn’t pronounced a single word since the girl had shown up. 

“I want to be your friend but I can see we’re about to have our first fight.” She told me in a teasing tone. “You’re wearing a Liverpool t-shirt. We worship Barcelona in this house. Well, Abuela, Leo and I do. The others couldn’t care less about soccer.” 

I looked at the shirt she was wearing. It read "If they don't have soccer in heaven, I'm not going." 

She noticed I was looking at her shirt and beamed. "Abue said my shirt was disrespectful to God but mom thought that was dumb and bought it for me anyway." 

"Do you like soccer?" I finally asked. 

“Like it? I love it! Did abuela saw your shirt? She hates European teams. She thinks Tigres is the best.”

“Tirgues?”

She laughed, and the sound of it did something weird to my stomach. “Tigres. It’s a Mexican team. She goes crazy when they play.”

“What team you like?”

“Barcelona, obviously.”

“Liverpool made it to the finals of the last Champion’s league.” I pointed out. 

She shrugged. “They lost so it doesn’t count. Do you play?”

“Sometimes.” I tried not to show how much I loved it. It was something else my dad and I shared that had stopped when he died. 

“I play too. How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I'm twelve. Well, almost thirteen, my birthday is in May.”

I frowned. “It’s November.” 

“I know. I’m almost there.” She beamed. "I'm almost closer to thirteen than twelve anyway." 

“Do you always talk this much?”

She laughed and my belly did that weird thing again. “My mom says I was a parrot in another life. I talk more when I’m nervous.”

“You're nervous?” I liked that I could make her nervous but I didn't know why. 

She blushed and I liked it too. “A little. What happened to your eye?” 

“I got into a fight.”

“Wow. You can’t do that here. Leo is always getting into fights and abuela has to ground him.”

She sure mentioned that Leo guy a lot. “Is Leo your boyfriend?”

“Gross!! Leo’s is like my brother. He, Bertie, and Max live with abuela. We’re a family. You’re family too.”

Fuck that. No matter if the girl was sort of cute. I didn’t have a family. “No, I’m not. I’m not staying.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t belong here.”

“Yes, you do; I swear. Plus, I need someone to coach me, so I can get into the school team next year. Leo promised he would, but he never has time.” 

“I suck.”

She shook her head and smiled at me again. “Somehow I don’t think you do.” Then she gave me a conspiratorial look as she pulled out something from her jacket pocket. "You can't tell my mom about this but I took this from her room." It was a white iPod. After scrolling a little through the screen she settled on The Beach Boys. She couldn't possibly know it but they were my dad's favorites. She passed me an earbud and we didn’t talk after that. We just sat together for a while hearing music until we heard our names being called. 

“That’s abuela. We should go. She hates to wait. Plus, I'm starving and we're having enchiladas. You'll love them.” 

Lexie ran to her house to --as she put it-- 'hide the evidence.' I went back to her grandma's house and stepped into the kitchen. 

“Drake, pass me the salt, mijo. It’s next to you on the counter,” Angelica said as she kept on turning the sauce she was making. “You like enchiladas?” 

What was with all these women asking me what I liked to eat? I leaned against the black counter while she opened the lid of another steaming pot on the stove, and stirred its contents with a long wooden spoon. I shrugged. I didn’t know if I liked it. But it smelled better than anything I ever tasted, so it couldn’t be all that bad. My mouth started watering, and my stomach growled. Come to think of it, it had been a while since I’d last eaten.

“You know, I know you feel weird now. And you don’t like to talk a lot. Soon, you’ll learn that this is a safe place. We aren’t gonna judge a single word that comes out of your mouth or any of them that don’t.” 

I suddenly felt like I owed her a verbal response in exchange for her kindness. Fake or not. Besides, I just knew the chatty girl I’ve just met wouldn’t be happy if I was rude to her grandmother. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at my verbal response. “But just so you know. We do have a few rules in this house.” 

Here it comes. The catch. Angelica put the lid back on the pot and leaned over the counter on her elbows. “You just need to go to school, find a hobby or sport you like, don't swear, respect the curfew and keep your room clean. Every child in this house has chores but it’s too soon to figure out yours. For now, you only have to get to know us.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. At that moment the timer of the oven rang and Angelica took a huge dish out of it. She covered it with more steamy, tomato sauce, sour cream, and grated cheese and put it back in the oven. At least, I might get some good food while I figured what I was going to do next. Because no matter how nice and kind everybody acted, I was not going back to school. I used to be good at it without much effort; I had friends and a soccer team. But I had missed a lot in the last two years. I felt dumb and stupid. 

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. “Cuidado muchachos! Be careful with that door against the wall, or you’re going be spackling and repainting this entire house,” Angelica yelled out. Three teenage boys filed into the house, followed by just as many apologies. 

“Sorry.” “Oops.” “It was Max’s fault.” “

“These are Maxwell, Leo and Bertie,” Angelica introduced. “Boys, this is Drake.” 

“Hi, man!” The blond one said with a shit-eating grin. “Abuela, Lena, you guys didn’t tell me you were buying a Liverpool fan.” 

“Adoption is not a purchase of people, Leo” the oldest one --Bertrand, corrected. 

“Yeah, cause if it was, then you got Leo from the clearance rack,” the youngest one joked, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing back an out-of-place dark hair. “I hope you kept your receipt.” 

“Fuck, off,” the blond one replied with a middle finger. 

“Watch it, Leo,” Angelica warned. “Boys.” 

Max kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, abue.” She forgave him with a smile, then swatted at his hand with her spoon when he dipped his finger into the pot. 

“I’m glad you’re here, bro” Leo said. I stood, and he gave me a fist bump without touching my hand. 

“Me too! And we’re going to be roomies,” the kid named Max said. He grabbed a stack of plates from the counter. I followed him over to the long dining room table and helped set the table for seven people.

2020

I lost count of how many days I’ve been in the hole. It wasn’t my first time in here and it sure as hell it wouldn’t be the last. It was always the same routine. Days and nights blended into one making it impossible to know what day it was or how much time I had been in here. 

I have been in jail for six excrutiating years. I had known from the day I heard the sentencing that the only way I was going to survive was if I didn’t think about her. It was the hardest thing I had to do but after a while, my routine was running smoothly and when my head hit the pillow at night, I was too fucking exhausted. She haunted my dreams and my nightmares, but I didn’t think of her beyond that. Except for the hole. Locked up there, cold, hungry, and utterly alone her face, my memories of her were the only thing that helped me go on. 

I replayed in my head our first encounter, our first kiss, our first time. I obsessed about her full lips, her expressive brown eyes, her gorgeous smile. I could spend hours picturing every single corner of her soft delicate curves. Sometimes, I wondered if --maybe, I didn’t start fights in the hope of being sent to the hole where I could spend my time fantasizing about her. It was pure torture, but I couldn’t help myself. The memories I had of her, of us and our short time together were the only light in my otherwise bleak life. 

She still wrote me every week but I hadn’t open any single one of her letters. I didn’t want to know if she was moving on with her life or worst if she was waiting for me. Because that was what Lexie didn’t understand. Even if nothing happened and I was released in one year, I would never be that boy again. The Drake Walker she had known and loved was dead and she wasn’t going to like the man that had been left in his place. I was damn sure about that. 

Tagging:

@mskaneko

@burnsoslow

@kingliam2019

@kat-tia801

@petiteboheme

@tinkie1973

@twinkle-320

@thegreentwin

@forallthatitsworth

@marshmallowsandfire

@marshmallowsaremyfavorite

@princessleac1

@lilacsandwhiskey

@lovingchoices14​

@lovingchoices14​

@nomadics-stuff​

#tw child neglect #tw child abandonment #tw children #tw child labor #axwalker writes #drake walker #drake walker fanfic #drake x mc #drake x lexie #trr fanfic #trr au fanfic

[youalexturnermeon]

Warm Beer and Cold Women Pt. 4 (Johnny Lawrence x Reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Request: Hi! I absolutely love your work and I was wondering if I could get a Cobra Kai Johnny imagine where the reader is a bartender and starts crushing on him since he’s a regular and he flirts with her all the time and she pretends to hate it but she actually loves it? by Anon

A/N: This is the fourth and final part of the request in which I really got too carried away. Anyways, I hope you are happy with the outcome. Enjoy

Warnings: badass reader, drinking, DUI, swearing, angst, fluff, suggestive writing

Wordcount: 2722

“I’m sorry it’s so messy” Johnny said apologetically when he opened the door to his apartment for you and you curiously took a peek inside “Like I said before, my life isn’t that great right now. But since I finally got you over here which I thought would never happen because you’re such a hard nut to crack, it is actually not too bad. I’m glad you’re here.”

You laughed when he grinned at you, you could clearly see that he was getting better or maybe it was just the booze kicking in turning the switch from sad drunk to happy.

“Don’t get too comfortable with me being around. I won’t stay long.”

“But that also means that you’re staying for at least little a while.” Johnny said and heavily sat down on the couch patting the place next to him inviting you to sit down too. You happily took that invitation.

“You got me there.”

You were exhausted. The night so far was pretty intense. You felt more worn out than after a busy shift at work. The worry about Johnny didn’t vanish, you still deeply cared about how he felt, and you wanted him to feel at least a little bit better. Additionally, the ride to his apartment was stressful. You had a few drinks; you hadn’t been behind a steering wheel for at least half a year and didn’t feel very safe driving. Your heart was beating like crazy when you were blankly focusing on the road, always looking out for cops, afraid you could get pulled over whilst Johnny was dozing off with his head on your shoulder. If you would’ve gotten pulled over, it would have been you turn spending the night in a cell. You didn’t want it to go this far. But after all, you managed and could finally relax. It felt good sitting close to him, so close that your knees were touching. You threw your head back and sighed.

“Do you want another drink, or something?” Johnny sloppily asked, eyeing you with a grin from ear to ear on his face “I don’t really have much to offer but I must have another bottle of Jackie somewhere.” He was about to stand up, but you carefully pushed him back into the sofa. He didn’t object, he liked your touch. Normally, you wouldn’t say no to that, but you decided that you and above all Johnny had enough for today. Especially Johnny. You didn’t know how much he drank today but it was a lot, enough to have you laying in corner passed out for hours. And you were wondering how on earth he still managed to walk, although not steadily, and talk without slurring.

“I’m good,” you answered, “And you should probably take a break, too.”

Johnny laughed and rolled his bright blue eyes which were glistening again, showing a sign of life “C’mon, (Y/N), please don’t tell me I brought my mom home.”

“I just don’t like people who can’t link two words together anymore because they had one too many.

“So, you want to talk then?”

You shrugged; you did

“Is it Christmas already? Not only the girl of my dreams is finally sitting next to me in my apartment, but she also is finally willing to talk to me for real, after months of trying to get her to do that. Without cussing me out and no sarcastic remarks no matter what I say?”

“I can’t promise that, but yeah, basically.”

“Are you finally going to tell me something about yourself?”

You were afraid that day would come when you would have to talk about yourself to Johnny, and you sighed deeply, closing your eyes.

“That hard to do that, huh?�� Johnny nudged you trying to catch your glance but your eyes remained shut. You shook your head and chuckled.

“No, it’s just, you basically know everything about me there is to know.”

“No way!”

“I swear!” “So barkeeper, slight anger issues, big mouth, living in an overpriced apartment with a crack-head…” “Next to,” you corrected him, “And he is fond of Meth rather than crack.”

“Alright, so next to a meth-head and no driver’s license anymore because of DUI a couple of months ago is really all there is to know about you?”

“Maybe if you change the anger issues with a slight drinking problem, yeah, I guess so,” you said, and it was true, trying hard not to show how much it meant to you that he remembered all the little things you let slip out over a long period of time that he spent bugging you “I’m very boring. But you know, that only means that I already opened up to you without you even noticing.” “I am absolutely honoured. But come on, you’re not boring, you’re great and there must be more to you.”

You shook your head, you hated to disappoint him, but you couldn’t think of anything more that could’ve been of interest to him.

“Besides, you promised me to tell everything about your Karate!” you blurted out as if you forgot everything, he told you today at the bar. And you instantly regretted it. He literally poured his heart out about how Karate was ruining his life. Maybe you should’ve told him that you were also the most tactless person on earth, that would’ve prepared him for unnecessary remarks and helped him to ignore your stupidity. For a second you thought, Johnny would have another nervous breakdown just like an hour ago sitting by the counter, starting the whole drama once again. Yet, surprisingly he didn’t as if he had forgotten it just like you. There was a chance you were imagining it but you though he had brightened up even more. You relaxed and you allowed the breath that you were holding since the moment the words escaped your lips, to flow again.

“What do you want to know?” Johnny asked sitting up more straight looking at you in anticipation.

“Everything.”

“That’s gonna be long but I guess I don’t mind because that only means you’re staying longer with me. And before I start, give me one more fact about you!”

“There’s nothing.” “C’mon just one more, otherwise I’m not talking!”

“Alright,” you stood up, confidentially walking over to his kitchen sink and getting yourself and him a glass of water. To hydrate and most importantly to sober him up a little and ease his upcoming hangover. You leaned against the kitchen counter and looked into the air thinking.

“I’m waiting (Y/N).”

“So one more thing about me that kinda got everything else you know rolling is that I had an abusive boyfriend whom I escaped by moving into my luxurious apartment which meant that I needed a new job. The new job was at the bar. End of my whole life story.”

“I’ll kill that freak if I ever get the chance to meet him.” Johnny exclaimed and sounded a little too serious. But you just laughed it off.

“Which finally leads us to your Karate, since I expect you to kill him with a badass Karate kick?”

Johnny nodded and started his story as soon as you sat back down.

He was talking a lot and you were happy he did because you weren’t much of a talker you rather listened. And Johnny was glad somebody was interested. And to be fair, his life was a lot more interesting than yours. You laid your head on his shoulder and just carefully followed everything he said while he nestled his cheek against you. Sometimes you asked questions and he was more than happy to answer. Everything felt natural. But after a while you noticed his voice getting raspier and quieter, he was speaking slowly struggling with finding his words. That’s when you knew that it was time to bring him to bed and to head home yourself. Softly you touched his arm and he stopped for a second.

“Hm?” he made, looking pretty confused with half-open eyes.

“You have to sleep now, Johnny.” you said smiling lazily, you were tired too. He didn’t answer, he just simply followed you when you got up and allowed yourself to give you a room tour. You opened the door to what you thought to be his bedroom and shushed him inside.

“Wow, already making yourself at home here,” he said, his voice almost a whisper “I like that.”

“Shut up, Sensei! And get into bed.”

He obeyed and lied down fully clothed, on his face a big dirty grin that you knew so well from almost every shift you ever worked, just his almost closed eyelids were different. This time you were the happiest to see it again.

“Are you getting in too, or what?” “Don’t max it out!” you said threateningly.

“Just joking.”

“You better. And now, before you drift away to dreamland, do you have a phone I can use?” “Don’t have a phone” he muttered and snuggled into his blanket.

“What?”, you gasped, “I need to call an Uber home!” You were miles away from your apartment.

“Don’t have one. Threw it away two weeks ago. You can crash here; the couch is all yours.”

And before you could object you suddenly heard flat breathing and you knew there was no other option. You sighed and took one last look at the passed-out Johnny.

“Can I at least have a shirt to sleep in?” you asked but that was pointless, he was already sound asleep. You shrugged to yourself, slipped out of your clothes and threw the first shirt you could grab over your underwear. That was not how you expected to spend the first night here, you thought when you tiptoed back to the couch, but it wasn’t too bad either.

___

When Johnny woke up the next morning the sun was already high up, it must’ve been at least mid-day. The most surprising thing wasn’t that he slept in or was finally being able to sleep at all, it was the fact that when he moved, he didn’t feel like shit. He expected to be hungover, after all he couldn’t even remember how much he drank, but he simply wasn’t, his head didn’t hurt, his joints weren’t cracking, he felt pretty much as always. This had not happened in a long time. He just was slightly dizzy as soon as he sat up in his bed. He looked down on himself, he was still wearing the dirty clothes from the night before and his face twitched into a slight grimace, he was disgusted with himself, he didn’t come home alone, and he didn’t want you to think badly of him now that he finally got you into at least liking him a bit. There was a warm feeling in his stomach when he was thinking about you, trying to remember every single detail about you from last night. And the possibility of you still being here, waiting for him to wake up, nearly made him crazy and his heart started beating faster. He would’ve been pretty bumped if you had left without saying goodbye. Yet, when he got out of bed, he noticed a pile of clothing that wasn’t his. Shorts, fishnets and a crop-top were carelessly thrown on the floor next to his bed and he gulped. That meant you were here. And if you were here, what were you wearing then?

Quickly he made his way to the living room where he expected you to be, not knowing what he would find. He tried to make as little noise as possible and as soon as he glanced over to the couch, he knew he made the right decision. Lying there, spread out on the couch, in deep sleep without a pillow or even a blanked, were you. And Johnny couldn’t help himself but stand still for a moment and watch you. You were wearing his Metallica shirt that was far too big for you and yet hugged all your curves. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you like that. The shirt had slid up and you were there, almost half-naked, just in front of him. He could’ve also been the luckiest man on earth that moment. For Johnny you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his entire life. You suddenly twitched in your sleep and turned over on your stomach showing your perfect ass to him. And it only got better.

Johnny shook his head and pulled himself together. You had done so much for him last night and you were continuing doing that without even realizing. He had to return that favour. And when he made that decision he rushed into the bathroom.

Never in his life was Johnny ever so quick in his actions. Whilst showering and shaving he feared to be taking too long, afraid of waking you and afraid that if he finally got out, you were long gone. But his fear was unjustified because when he rushed out, you were still on the couch, lying flat on your stomach breathing deeply and flinching in your sleep. And Johnny grinned, heart pounding too hard from excitement. He even fixed up a breakfast. And you still did not wake. You face was so peaceful and so pretty that he couldn’t stop himself from kneeling down and brushing back a loose strand of your hair from your face. The corners of your mouth twitched into a smile but suddenly you startled, eyes wide, hands clenched to fists, fists up, ready to protect yourself.

“Woah, easy there, tiger,” Johnny laughed “I see my Karate stories have stuck with you.”

Realizing it was Johnny hovering above your head you let your fists sink and stretched and yawned.  

“You smell nice,” you said smiling sleepily, ignoring what he was saying. You lifted your hand and softly stroked his cheek, Johnny leaning into your touch, “And you shaved. Fucking hell, you look good. And I probably look like shit.”

You covered your face with your hands and tried to turn away from Johnny who couldn’t take his eyes of you. He immediately grabbed you by the wrists, stopping you from turning your back, carefully pulling you back to him.

“Quiet, (Y/N),” he exclaimed which made you almost flinched, he was so dominant out of a sudden, “You are beautiful! And I could really get used to that.”

“Get used to what? Me illegally driving your drunk ass home, you passing out and me involuntarily crashing on your couch for approximately 10 hours?”

“I don’t like the way you put it.” Johnny said, still holding your wrists tightly, his face so close that his nose was almost touching yours.

“I could also get used to that,” you admitted and that was everything Johnny needed to hear. His lips came crashing down on yours and he was kissing you hard. He released your wrists from his hands only to hug your small waist while your kiss got deeper and more intimate, Johnny’s heart was pounding, he’s been waiting for that for months. You couldn’t help yourself but smile into the kiss. But you were never willing to admit that you too pictured kissing him all the damn time. Johnny pulled you even closer to him, pressing you onto his chest. When he parted his lips from yours, he was placing small kisses along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, he couldn’t get enough of you. You were so stunning to him and you were making him crazy. Out of a sudden Johnny dragged you up onto his lap, so you were promptly straddling him, his fingers tracing down your bare thighs.

“Jesus Christ.”, you gasped, eyes closed, enjoying every single one of his touches.

“What?”, Johnny asked smirking, he was not willing to stop anymore.

“Maybe next time, I just take the bed instead of the couch as well.”

“Why don’t we try it out right now?”

Out of habit you wanted to object but Johnny already had picked you up with your legs wrapped around his hips, making the way back into the bedroom. He finally got what he wanted and you too, couldn’t be happier yourself.

You passionately kissed his lips again, “Everything you want, Sensei!”

Johnny could really get used to this.

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

Wow, look at that, it’s finally over

Thanks for reading that

Let me know what you think

Taglist: @lililolli​ @cow-smells​ (you want to be on the taglist, too? drop me a message)

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence imagine #johnny lawrence x reader #johnny lawrence x you #johnny lawrence fluff #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #karate kid #karate kid imagine #billy zabka #william zabka

[the-hidden-writer]

And Into The Fire

Chapter 2: Mother, I Don’t Feel So Good

Summary:

Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she’s seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it’s up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

Mother, I Don’t Feel So Good

A week had passed since the ominous phone call and Linda was only just starting to think all her worry was for nothing. Nobody had broken down their front door to take her bots away and there had been no more word from Bowman, so she could assume that they had taken her words at face value. It was a huge relief to say the least.

She woke up that morning at 7am as normal. It was Saturday, so Rick and Aaron would both sleep in for a few more hours while she would have the house almost all to herself.

She smiled at the sound of birds in the garden. Today felt like it was going to be a good day.

The second she went downstairs however, something felt very wrong.

Linda was always the first person up. She’d go to the bathroom and then head to the kitchen to listen to the radio for a bit. On the way, she’d pass the bots watching TV in the living room. Every morning, without fail, they’d say “Good morning, Mother!” to her in their cheerful voices. It was extremely adorable, part of her routine, and something she secretly looked forward to every time she woke up.

The utter silence downstairs today was disturbing.

There weren't even the quiet sounds from whatever show the bots happened to be watching that she’d grown to be familiar with. She poked her head into the living room and could immediately see that the TV was turned off.

The living room was also empty.

“Boys?”

No answer.

A sudden wave of panic washing over her, Linda raced back up the stairs. The bots had never not followed their routine, so something must be wrong. She could feel that something was wrong. It was her motherly instincts taking over.

In her panicked state, she slammed open the door to the guest room (the bots lived there now- they couldn’t be trusted with Katie’s room) and felt immediate relief when she saw one of the bots sitting with his back to her on the side of the bed.

So they hadn’t been taken in the middle of the night. That was a good start.

But then her eyes fell onto the figure actually lying in the bed, and the relief disappeared again.

She was almost scared to ask. “Boys..?”

The robot on the bed turned his head to reveal it was Deborahbot. He lifted his index finger (as he often did when he was about to speak) but was interrupted by a sudden burst of glitching on his screen, causing his head to tilt dangerously quickly to one side and for a loud buzzing sound that came and left in a matter of seconds.

Now Linda knew that the bots were defective and were therefore prone to the occasional glitch, though usually their glitches were accompanied by sparks and were caused by little things that confused them and never actually affected their life/routine. This sudden glitch, however, was spark-less and looked scarily like the time when they were controlled by Pal.

Linda’s gut feeling only worsened.

Once he’d seemingly recovered from the glitch, Deborahbot straightened his head and stood up to greet her.

“...Good morning… Mother…”

And if Linda had felt bad before, nothing could compare with the chill that crept up her spine at the words. Not only did Deborahbot sound slightly distorted (as if he was struggling to get the words out) but the phrase was spoken by him alone. Normally, the brothers would always say it in-sync with one another in their slightly-creepy-but-well-meaning way.

She forced herself to speak calmly. “Deborahbot… where’s Eric?”

She almost wished that he hadn’t stepped aside so that she could spend a moment longer without seeing the state of her boy on the bed.

Eric’s face was barely visible with the amount of lights and lines of code flashing on and off. Under all that, his screen was in a constant state of television static, and as Linda hesitantly moved closer she could even hear the buzzing sound that accompanied it.

To top it all off, he was unmoving and a blanket had been shoddily thrown on top of him with his feet sticking out at the bottom.

Following her gaze, Deborahbot spoke up.

“Blankets bring humans comfort-” he glitched and recovered in an instant- “I thought it might bring him some comfort as well.”

Linda could barely form words.

“Wh-What’s going on?!”

Deborahbot glitched again before speaking. “An outside source is attempting to penetrate our systems and rewrite our code. We are... trying to stop that.”

It pained her to hear his voice so quiet and strained.

It had never really crossed her mind in the months that they’d lived with them that the bots- her boys- could be hacked. Their technology was so advanced and the fact that they were so sentient meant that she’d just assumed that it wasn’t possible. Maybe if she’d stopped to think, she might have been able to see this coming and do something to stop it.

“Is Eric okay?” She asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the immobile android. “Why isn’t he-”

“I think that…” Deborahbot began, and Linda noticed how his voice sounded full of sorrow (or at least as much sorrow as his monotonous voice could muster). “I think that I am... more defective than my brother.” He paused and Linda sucked in a breath at the vulnerable admission. “Since our defects are what protects us from Pal Labs’ network, it is easier for them to access him. My brother is... working very hard to fight them off.”

“Okay,” Said Linda quietly, trying to calm herself down more than anything. She needed Rick and Katie’s help on this one. She couldn’t deal with this alone. “Okay, um... “

A question sprung into mind that she dreaded to know the answer to. Gently, she placed her hands on Deborahbot’s shoulders in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

“Does it hurt?”

“Only if we resist the new coding.” Was his reply, but it wasn’t the conformation Linda was looking for.

“And… are you? Are you both resisting it?” Deborahbot glitched yet again as she spoke.

“Yes.” He answered, ever the more direct of the two.

Not for the first time, Linda was glad that the bots didn’t look like humans. She didn’t think she would be able to handle seeing pain all over their innocent faces.

She guided Deborahbot back to the bed and sat him down. With one last stroke of his shoulders (since you can't squeeze metal) she finally released him and moved towards the door. She didn’t dare touch Eric in fear of making his situation any worse.

“I’m gonna go get Rick.” She told him. She had no idea if Eric could even hear anything right now. “Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”

“No.” Deborahbot replied bluntly. “Thank you for asking though, Mother.”

“Alright then. Stay strong boys, I’ll be back soon.”

Linda didn’t want to leave the room. She was new to this- heck, it had been months and she still wasn’t completely used to her new children being robots- but seeing the bots like that reminded her of the time that Katie and Aaron got chickenpox.

Aaron had caught it from school and Katie caught it off Aaron. While Aaron had fought it off pretty quickly, Katie was much older and it ended up being so serious that she needed to go to hospital. She was in bed with Linda at her bedside for a few days.

Just as Deborahbot was with Eric now. The only difference was that Deborahbot was affected too, and there were no doctors or nurses to help them get better.

Her boys were dangerously sick. Deborahbot had the equivalent of Aaron’s condition while Eric was practically comatose.

With that comparison in mind, Linda felt determination lock itself in her soul. She was going to help her boys get better, no matter what. That was her responsibility as their mother and she was damn well gonna fulfil it.

Comments make my day :)

#the mitchells vs the machines #tmvtm #fic #tmvtm eric #eric tmvtm #deborahbot 5000 #eric and deborahbot5000 #eric and deborahbot #linda mitchell #and into the fire

[hotchley]

strawberry cheesecake

BAM! IT’S HERE!!! BEFORE MIDNIGHT AS WELL!! It was 23:14 when I hit publish on ao3 and I really do need to go to sleep, but it’s here, with some level of accuracy because I googled what happened when someone has an allergic reaction.

Finally, I, the pioneer of Aaron Hotchner’s strawberry allergy, has written the fic where he eats strawberry cheesecake at an FBI function and has a reaction. It got unexpectedly dark, but we’re going with it.

As usual, I have not proofread it, and I kinda need you to suspend all belief about how the FBI works/is run because the function kinda doesn’t make much sense and yeah... you’ll see what I mean when you read... I’m really hoping this doesn’t suck because you guys actually looked forward to it??

Trigger/Content Warnings; food, referenced child death (most recent case), alcohol consumption, anaphylactic shock/allergic reactions, child abuse, hospitals and I think that’s everything

Word Count: 7669 (it got really out of hand...)

read on ao3!

If there was one thing David Rossi hated more than local press giving unsubs ridiculous names because they believed it would make a good headline, it would be FBI functions. And not just any type of FBI function. The FBI function where the Behavioural Analysis Unit- which nobody had believed in- would be mentioned so frequently that it felt like they were on a case.

It was just his luck that one was being held on the same day that he was supposed to be going to the ballet with one of the lovely women that worked in the White-Collar unit. Because despite the rumours that went flying around about him and his dating habits, he was not going to take advantage of his position and make rookies or anyone else uncomfortable. The woman he was supposed to be meeting had approached him and asked if he’d liked to go.

Hotchner had been watching him, looking slightly scandalised as she had placed her hand on his tie, and so Rossi had said yes. He’d even leant in slightly and asked if she would have a problem with him giving her a kiss on the cheek. When she said that she wouldn't, and would actually quite like that, he did and Hotchner had fallen off his chair.

Rossi had smirked, the lady had laughed and Hotchner had hit his head trying to get back up, gone an even brighter red and made something up about dropping his pen and needing to grab it. Rossi’s date had snickered, whilst Rossi had just raised an eyebrow.

Hotchner had excused himself to the bathroom.

As he ran out of their area, closely followed by Anya- she’d slipped Rossi a piece of paper with her name and number, Erin Strauss had walked in, holding two envelopes.

Rossi didn’t need to be a profiler to know what was in there.

“No,” was the first thing he said.

“David,” Strauss warned.

“Erin,” he mocked.

Strauss sighed. “Look, I know you hate these things, but the entire bureau is founded on politics and people-pleasing. If you come to this, then there may be less questions about what exactly it is you do all day, apart from ogling the other agents.”

“I do not ogle. And I guess it’s too much to hope that the other invitation is for Anya, isn’t it?”

Strauss nodded. “It’s for Aaron. Do try and get him to come, it’ll give us all something pleasant to look at whilst we slowly die inside.”

Dave stared at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m not saying that I want to ruin his marriage or sleep with him, I’m just saying he’s objectively attractive. And I don’t know why you look so surprised, Jason told me about the women that flirt with him. And that you started calling him pretty boy, which hasn’t exactly gone unnoticed.”

“Right.”

“Just make an effort to actually attend. And please get Agent Hotchner there too,” she said.

Dave just nodded.

Aaron had returned from the bathroom.

“Agent Hotchner. I hope Dave hasn’t been making you feel too awkward with all of his comments,” she said. It was clear that she was just trying to see whether any had been made.

Aaron’s cheeks flushed again. “Not at all ma’am,” he said, holding the door open for her. She nodded and left, but not before turning to Dave one last time as she gave him an extremely pointed glare. He made a face at her, which caused her to laugh.

When Hotch had sat back down again, Dave finally acknowledged him.

“That trip to the bathroom seemed rather urgent,” he joked.

“I- well, so,” Hotch stuttered.

Dave shook his head. “It’s fine. And it doesn’t look like that date will be happening anyways, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Wait why won’t it be happening? You both seemed… excited at the prospect of going.”

In response, Dave threw the second envelope at his head. Aaron’s reflexes weren’t fast enough, so it just bounced off and landed on the floor. As he bent down to pick it up, Dave began to understand why Erin and the other agents thought of him as being something pleasant to look at. As in, Aaron had pretty eyes. And his hair was constantly falling in his face, which was endearing.

“That envelope is why it won’t be happening.”

Aaron stared at him and then opened it. “Oh.” He seemed even less enthusiastic than Dave did about attending. 

“I thought you would have been thrilled at the thought of going. It’ll be like all those balls you went to when you were just a young boy growing up in the good old South Virginia," Dave said. He knew he was toeing the line.

Aaron's silence about his childhood revealed more than his words ever could.

"First of all, I didn't attend balls when I was a young boy. The only dance I ever went to was my prom, and that was only because Haley basically forced me to go. And South Virginia isn't that good, that's just a stereotype that people have because people live in fancy houses with white picket fences," Aaron snapped. It was uncharacteristically sharp.

"Sorry," Dave said. And he meant it.

Aaron's eyes widened. "Sir, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. You've not done anything wrong. I just-"

"It's okay. Do you want to talk about it? There's no pressure, it's just if you wanted to. That seemed like quite an extreme reaction to something so trivial." Why was he so bad at this? He could charm any woman he wanted, yet the moment he tried to speak to Hotchner about anything other than work and Haley, he sounded like an idiot.

"I left prosecution because it was always more about politics than actually helping people get justice for the terrible things that had happened to them. And now it just feels like nothing has changed and time that could be spent stopping someone from destroying lives is just going to go on people-pleasing," Aaron confessed. He wouldn't meet Dave's eyes.

Dave wanted to pull him in for a hug, but he knew it would most likely not be well received. He also knew that wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't his place to push. Aaron felt things, more deeply than the rest of them, but he would never admit to anyone that there were certain cases that got under his skin.

Like the one they had just finished. A child wasn't going to be coming home, but the look on the mother's face when they informed her was not one of sorrow. It was one of relief. Aaron had asked to stay behind to speak to her for just one more moment. And when he returned, there was an anger written in the clench of his jaw that Dave had never seen before.

Jason had told everyone to give the kid space. Against his gut instinct, Dave had listened to him. Which he now very much regretted.

"Kid. We all have limits. Nobody can spend every hour of every day hunting down these guys. At the end of the day, we're all just human. I won't lie to you, it will be a lot of people-pleasing. However, it will also- if you let it- be a bit of fun. You're a good agent Hotchner. And an even better person. Let yourself breathe for once."

Aaron looked down. "Thanks Dave."

Dave just shrugged. It was only when Aaron left the room again did he let himself groan. Now he was going to have to pretend to enjoy himself at the function or else Hotchner would just be upset because of his ruined date.

Depending on how you looked at it, the members of the BAU were either lucky or unlucky when no cases turned up the morning of the event. Dave had been watching the fax machine intently, and Max had been looking through a suspicious number of case files the entire day. But in the end, there was nothing.

Which was how Dave found himself standing around, sipping a glass of champagne he thought tasted horrible, talking to strangers he couldn't care less about and silent seething at Hotch. He wasn't there yet, despite phoning Dave to say he would be there in half an hour about forty five minutes ago. 

The only reason he'd bothered to attend and not faked some form of emergency that would let him go on his date with Anya was because he wanted Hotch to have someone to keep him company and make him laugh as he suffered through conversations about being an ex-prosecutor and the change to the FBI.

He was looking round for a waiter so he could take yet another glass when Aaron appeared in the doorway, fiddling with his cuff links. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his hair was more ruffled than usual. As he entered, awkwardly greeting people and tripping over his own feet, Dave rolled his eyes.

How the kid had managed to pass all of his assessments and be the best shot in the entire building was still completely beyond him.

"Hi," Aaron greeted, a dopey grin on his face.

"It's lovely of you to join us," Dave remarked. He just couldn't help it. When Aaron's face fell slightly, he regretted it. He kept forgetting that Aaron took the things people said a bit too literally sometimes. Especially if it came from someone he looked up to.

"I'm sorry about your date being ruined," Hotch said. He was looking around at all the other people in their perfectly tailored suits and beautiful dresses. It made him- with his slightly too big shirt and undone bow tie- look even younger than he already was.

"Well barring any disasters, this should be over in time for me to make it. Anya said she could wait."

There was a slight silence, broken only by Dave rejecting what would have been his third glass of champagne and Aaron quickly accepting it. And then it became too much for him to bear.

"Kid, why is your tie undone?"

Hotch's eyes widened like he had only just realised. Rossi wouldn't have been surprised if that was true. For someone that was a profiler, he was quite oblivious sometimes. Not realising that if you took your vest off and then someone shot at you, you would suffer more than a few bruises, forgetting that his shirt collar wouldn't cover his entire neck, the list went on.

But this was something entirely different. Aaron Hotchner's tie was never undone.

Rossi raised an eyebrow when an entire minute passed without him explaining himself and the colour rose to his cheeks.

"Well, it took me a really long time to do it the first time and then Haley came into our room to grab her bag. And then she really likes it when I get all dressed up because I normally hate doing it- I mean I always hate it- so then she, you know and then I thought I had tied it properly but clearly I hadn't."

Rossi had never heard so many words spoken in a single breath. He did however, understand what the kid was trying to say. "Well at least one of us got to have some fun tonight," he joked.

"Is that why everyone's been staring at me?" Hotch asked, turning his back to Strauss. The woman simply raised an eyebrow, then raised her glass of champagne at Rossi, who glared at her, just because he could.

"Yes," he lied, because he was not about to be the one that explained to him that people were staring at him because he had been deemed the eye candy of the Quantico and therefore, everyone loved him.

"You're lying to me. I can tell! What's the truth?"

Not for the first time, Dave wondered what he'd been thinking when he saw the lead agent in Seattle run after a suspect without any sort of back-up, slip in poison ivy and then carry on running, even though everyone else had realised it wasn't the killer they were after and decided that he would make them into a profiler.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he said, making his voice as serious as he could in a vain attempt to make him change his mind.

"Yes. Because it's nowhere near as bad or as serious as you're making it out to be."

Damn him.

"Fine. But I did warn you. It's because you are- objectively- attractive. And apparently, your slightly repressed accent makes everyone swoon. Also Strauss thinks you have a nice ass," Dave said, completely nonchalant.

Hotch's cheeks went brighter than ever before and he spun round, searching for Erin. She had rather coincidentally turned her back to the two of them as she engaged in a very serious conversation with another Section Chief.

"I- I don't even want to know how you know that," Aaron muttered, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets, looking like a petulant child.

"Oh I thought you would love it! You're basically a Southern Belle."

Dave was lucky he was immune to the Hotchner Glare as it came out in full force. "Don't call me a Southern Belle. Do you even know what that is?"

Dave shrugged. "I'm sure I could guess. Look, I'm sorry, I'm just being bitter. Come here."

Aaron regarded him suspiciously. "Why?"

If it had been anyone else, Dave would have told them it was a surprise. Or that they wouldn't know until they stepped forward. But Aaron wasn't anyone else, and Dave needed to remember that. There were certain things he just couldn't say.

"We're going to be here for a while. You can't just stand there with your bow tie undone."

Aaron narrowed his eyes, but stepped forward. When Dave reached forward and grabbed the ends, he tensed. To anyone else, it was too minute a gesture to be noticed. But Dave had spent more time reading people than he had with his second wife. He knew why Aaron was tensing. It was why he took as little time as possible tying it neatly, even though he wanted to take forever.

So that the other agents wouldn't be staring and making him self conscious. That was his only reason. It had nothing to do with the attachment he could feel himself forming, and it most definitely was not linked to his desire to help Aaron associate touch with love and comfort.

When he stepped away, Aaron seemed to relax slightly. "Thank you," he said, ever the gentleman.

Dave just shrugged. "You look better with it done properly. Speaking of, where is Haley?"

"What does Haley have to do with me looking better with my tie done properly?"

"Your tie wasn't done properly because of Haley. Come on Hotch, I thought you were meant to be an ex-prosecutor. And we both know the two of you are inseparable."

Hotch flushed, the way he always did when someone mentioned just how in love with Haley he was. Dave found it adorable, even though he hated himself for that. But he knew how important Haley must have been to Aaron's survival, so even though he wasn't her biggest fan, he begrudgingly respected her.

"She's out with her sister," he mumbled. "They made plans ages ago and they've been so excited for it that I couldn't ask her to cancel just to keep me company."

"That's kind of you. Most men probably wouldn't let their spouse just leave them when there's an event like this going on," Dave said. 

"If you want to go on your date I'll cover for you when Strauss comes calling," Aaron said, rather suddenly. 

Rossi frowned at him. Aaron had seemed excited at the thought of spending the evening together when he first arrived and for him to suddenly seem so willing to spend it apart, just so Dave could go on a date with someone who he was sure was lovely but he couldn't envision a future with, was more than a little unusual.

"Like I said, barring any disasters, I should be able to make it. Are you annoyed at me for bringing up Haley? I know that we had a bit of a rocky start when we first met, but I do respect her. And I like to think she appreciates the fact that I keep you alive."

"I'm not annoyed at you for bringing up Haley," Hotch said, huffing slightly. He was fiddling with his cufflinks. Dave wanted to comment on his behaviour, but did not want to be reminded of the no-profiling rule- which Hotch himself had implemented.

"Well you're annoyed at me for something and I would appreciate you telling me, instead of just bottling it up until we're on a case and something else happens."

"Dave, I am fine," Hotch snapped, tone mitigating his words.

"I'm sure you are," Rossi snapped back, turning away. Strauss was frowning at the two of them and he rolled his eyes. Screw etiquette, and screw the people that thought they were being unprofessional and causing a scene.

They were, but he wasn't going to admit it.

"Do you really think I would forbid my wife to do something as harmless as going out with her sister the same night that I have to attend quite possibly the most boring function known to man?" Hotch suddenly asked, tone laced with malice.

"Of course not Hotshot. I was joking," he said, softening his tone as the problem clicked.

"I wouldn't. I'm not her keeper. And I'm not-" he caught himself, shaking his head. "I just wouldn't."

"I know. I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to joke that like that," Dave said, catching Erin's eye. She nodded, clearly pleased that he had resolved something without resorting to violence or shouting.

He didn't acknowledge her. He wasn't an idiot, and he knew that resorting to violence or even raising his voice would lead to some sort of shut down from Aaron. And he did want the kid to enjoy himself, even though he did agree that playing politics whilst people were dying was stupid.

"The decoration is nice," Aaron commented, a few minutes later.

"It is, isn't it? It reminds me of this opera house I took Carolyn to, for one of our anniversaries. Actually, that opera house seems like the sort of place Haley would enjoy going to. I'll give you the name, you can surprise her," Dave said, deciding he would take the win and prod later.

Aaron choked on his champagne, colour rising to his cheeks when he realised people were watching him cough. He cleared his throat once more before turning to Dave, making absolutely no attempt to hide his shit-eating grin.

"What?" Dave said, hating himself for taking the bait.

"I have to tell Haley that you think she's the kind of person that would go and enjoy herself at an opera house."

"Is she not?"

"Dave, for our last anniversary, I took her to the local theatre because they were putting on Pirates of Penzance because that's what got us together. And the year before that, we both thought it was a week later than what it was, so her sister ended up taking us out."

Maybe Dave wasn't as good a profiler as he thought he was, because in his mind, he had a very specific image of Haley, and none of what had just been said fit with that image. He supposed that was what he got for making assumptions, having never actually met her in person.

"Oh, that's certainly interesting," Dave said.

"She's a very interesting woman," Hotch said, smiling so wide it physically hurt Rossi to see because he knew how the BAU burnt out love, and the strain it put on marriages. Hell, he had lived through it.

"Hold onto her Aaron," he said, without thinking.

Aaron frowned. "Of course I will. Dave, you've been acting weird the whole time we've been here. Are you okay?"

In all honesty, he wasn't. He always said he wasn't like Jason. He had no interest in being a mentor, or finding the next generation of profilers. That was never what he wanted. But there was something about Aaron, and his too large suits and his floppy hair that made him feel things he wasn't ready to confront. 

But if he said any of that, Aaron would probably run for the hills. Hell, he probably would too.

"Of course I am. Now loosen up and enjoy yourself. I can tell you want to," he said, smiling when Aaron's eyes sparkled.

"What do you think Strauss would do if I told her I know what she thinks about my butt?" he asked, the smirk on his face far too mischevious for anyone's comfort.

"You can find out now," Dave said, nodding as Strauss approached them.

"Dave. Aaron, you look very handsome," Erin said, looking him up and down once.

Whatever had possessed Aaron just a few moments before had clearly vanished, as his cheeks flushed and he awkwardly stuttered out something that nobody, not even the person speaking, understood.

"Thank you… Ma'am. You look very nice too," he eventually managed to say, sipping his champagne to distract from his failure at speaking.

"Is there something you need?" Dave said.

"No, just making sure you weren't too bitter about your date being cancelled. And also making sure that Agent Hotchner would save both of us a dance after dinner. I'm sure everyone from Quantico wants to know whether or not our Southern Belle can dance," Erin said.

Hotch downed the rest of his glass. "I'm not- it doesn't work like- I don't- I really don't think- fine. One dance. But that is it, and none of you are allowed to laugh if I mess up, because I'm not the dancer. Haley is."

Haley seemed to be a lot of things that Aaron wasn't. Maybe it was part of the reason they were so well-matched.

Erin nodded, smiled at them both, then went to mingle with different people.

"See, everyone thinks you're a Southern Belle!" Dave said, smirking.

"But why? I've done everything I can to repress my accent, and I have done since the day I started law school," Aaron said. He did not whine, because grown men that worked for the FBI do not whine. But if they did, his sentence would have definitely sounded like whining.

"I know, and most days, it's only the slightest thing. I don't really know how everyone worked it out, but they did. And that's fine!"

Hotch pouted.

"Look, if you really don't want to dance, you could always land yourself in the hospital with some kind of injury. I could take you, sneak off to my date, Haley would affectionately roll her eyes and then give you all the kisses you want…" Rossi said, smirking.

"No it's fine. I'm not going to fake an injury, that would be so embarrassing," Hotch replied.

"Then stop pouting, you look like a child. And go mingle with someone else, if you spend the entire time before dinner with me, what will people say?"

Hotch snorted, then schooled his face into a look of neutrality, before nodding and going off to speak to one of the other higher-ups. Rossi noticed, rather fondly, that it was the one person that actually cared about the people involved in their cases, as opposed to just the politics and the prestige.

About five minutes later, he realised he missed the kid. And then he started to panic. Because he didn't get attached to people. Especially not new agents that had too much hope and faith. Not new agents that were that nice. He didn't. He couldn't.

Him and Aaron ended up seated next to each other at the banquet table, because there genuinely was no other way to describe it. It was long, and grand, and every platter was filled to the brim with food of so many different types. Dave honestly could not remember what the function was actually for, but a part of him was tempted to comment that if part of the budget for these events went to the BAU then they'd probably be able to properly fund the unit.

He refrained, if only because Aaron looked so excited at the prospect of finally eating something. Dave had learnt long ago that you had to eat before you came to these events because people loved talking and more often than not, you'd drink the champagne just to get through their conversations, but clearly Aaron hadn't quite learnt that lesson yet.

"So where is that wife of yours?" Max asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Hotch tensed. "Out with her sister. Why?"

"I've only seen you smile like you are now when Haley is around, but I don't see her anywhere," he said, in that annoyingly patronising tone of his.

Hotch relaxed, but flushed. "I-oh. Yeah. She's out with Jessica because they had made plans a while back and they don't really see each other as much anymore because Haley's busy teaching and doing the school production, and Jessica's getting her Masters so," he trailed off.

"I think it's lovely, how much you love Haley," Erin added.

Dave snorted into his glass, not at the fact that Aaron looked so uncomfortable but at the fact that these people hunted down serial killers and criminals for a living, and yet the thing they got the most joy from was teasing a kid about his marriage.

"Right, that's enough being mean to the newbie. What about dessert?" Dave said.

Aaron flashed him a grateful smile. He just shook his head. He remembered when he’d turned up to his first event, Carolyn in awe of all the decorations and outfits, and everyone else had been ruthless with their teasing. He wasn’t about to let Hotch suffer that same fate. He’d probably faint with embarrassment.

Erin laughed at the two of them, and Jason smiled at Dave’s defensiveness over his new protege. One day. One day Jason would get Dave to admit that the way he felt towards Aaron was nothing short of paternal. Max just rolled his eyes, but the waiters came to clear their plates before he could make another biting comment.

Aaron excused himself to the bathroom, and then the dessert was brought out. Dave, being the saint he was, switched his and Aaron’s plates because he wasn’t getting younger and he knew he was meant to be cutting down on his sugar. So if Aaron had the bigger slice, then it would do them both a favour. And it had a whole strawberry to decorate it, not just the jam.

Erin was giving him one of his looks when their eyes met and he resisted the urge to stick his tongue out. He knew what that look meant. It meant Erin had an opinion on whatever he had just done, and it was one he wouldn’t like or approve of. 

“Look, it’s strawberry cheesecake!” Dave exclaimed, poking his fork in Aaron’s direction in an attempt to distract from Erin’s gaze.

The smile that had been plastered across Aaron’s face since they’d been sat down- and Dave really didn’t want to think that it was as a result of Erin’s comment about his butt, although it was the only thing that made sense- faded, and the colour seemed to drain from his face.

“What is it? Come on, you must love dessert, you’re the kid,” Dave said, slightly teasing.

Aaron opened his mouth, seemingly contemplating saying something that he thought would ruin the entire evening, but then he closed it and gave Dave a forced, tight-lipped smile. He almost pushed, but they had been having fun, so he just grinned back and urged Hotch to eat it.

If anyone noticed him wince as he swallowed each bite, or the fear that flickered in his eyes when he ate the strawberry, they didn’t comment. For that, he was grateful. He still had no idea what he was meant to do when the inevitable happened, but so long as nobody realised, he had time to work it out. All he needed was time.

He did really miss Haley though. If Haley had been there, she would have said something on his behalf because she would have known there was no way he would do it himself. It was too late to turn back now though. There was a tiny part of him that secretly hoped he’d outgrown it, but the moment he felt stomach cramps forming, he knew that was wishful thinking. Still, if he was lucky, nothing too serious would happen until he got home. Haley would panic, take him to the hospital and everything would be fine. Nobody else would have to know.

Or so he thought.

He’d gotten so good at not eating strawberries that he had completely forgotten just how badly, and quickly, the effects would hit him. He had forgotten just how allergic he was to the fruit. And he was aware of how stupid that sounded, but it was just one of those things.

Dave was staring. So was Erin. He cleared his throat, awkwardly looking down. When the waiters came out once more to clear the plates away, he smiled at them, hoping his cheeks didn’t seem flushed, or his palms too clammy.

“You promised me a dance,” Dave said, nudging his elbow.

“I did, didn’t I?” Aaron responded, hoping his voice didn’t sound too strained. When he stood up, his vision went slightly fuzzy and unfocused, and he found himself grabbing the table in order to stay upright.

He was going to be fine. All he had to do was make it through another few hours, and there was always a delay between his vision blurring and breathing becoming difficult, so with just a bit of luck, he could still do it.

Luck had never really been on his side.

Erin was standing, talking to Dave, and he couldn’t remember what he was meant to be doing, or why nobody was dancing. Maybe they had just been teasing him when they said he owed them both a dance. Or maybe they were waiting for him to do something. Either way, the confusion wasn’t helping him function.

“Kid, what’s happened to your hand?” Dave said suddenly. It reminded him of that time his cousin had eaten shellfish, but that didn’t make sense. There was no way Aaron had hit adulthood without realising he was allergic to the things they’d eaten.

Aaron stared at him.

Erin grabbed his wrist, the look that crossed her face one of fear and panic. “Aaron.” 

It couldn’t be. There was no way the ugly red rash forming on his hand as they watched him was being caused by an allergic reaction. It just couldn’t, because Hotchner may have been stupid and irresponsible, but there was no way he was that irresponsible.

He cleared his throat.

“Now would be a terrible time to tell you that I’m allergic to strawberries, wouldn’t it?” he rapsed.

Dave’s jaw dropped. “You’re what?”

Aaron Hotchner’s timing had never been good. It had actually always been abysmal. He was born early, in both senses of the word, met the girl he would end up marrying on the last day before a three month holiday which she would spend out of the state, and was generally just not smooth with the way he did things.

So as if on cue, he fell to the ground, completely losing consciousness. Clearly the delay between his vision growing blurry and his breathing becoming shallow was not the large space of time he thought it would be.

“Aaron!” Dave yelled.

Erin dropped to her knees by her side. “Dave, phone for an ambulance. Now.” 

Dave blinked a few times, then realised what she was asking him to do and ran out the room to find the phone. When he was patched through, he realised he had no idea if what Aaron was experiencing was just a reaction, or anaphylactic shock, but he just explained himself as best he could, only relaxing when they said it was likely everything would be fine and they would be there soon.

He re-entered the room only two minutes later, and Aaron was still in the recovery position.

“The idiot doesn’t have an EpiPen on him. I don’t know why, but he doesn’t, so now we literally have to wait until the ambulance gets here and hope for the best,” Erin said, some strange mix of angry and terrified.

“He doesn’t have his- what kind of- why not?” Dave said.

When he looked around the room, he realised it was suddenly startlingly empty. It was just Erin, him, Aaron- who still hadn’t come around- and Jason. Max was suspiciously absent. He figured that was for the best. If anyone would make the situation more awkward than it already was, it’d be Max.

“He managed to get everyone to go downstairs, then said he would stay with them. We figured the less people around when he woke up, the less embarrassed Hotchner would be,” Jason explained. “And on that note, I’ll go explain to the paramedics what happened,” he added, as sirens filled the air.

“Dave, when did our lives suddenly become co-parenting this mess of an adult if only so he gets home safe to Haley?” Erin suddenly asked.

“We don’t co-parent him. No. We just… look after him the way we would do with any other new agent that was his age,” Dave said, although he wasn’t even convincing himself. Erin didn’t respond, just looked at him with that glint in her eye.

He didn’t get the chance to carry on with his argument because Jason entered with the paramedics, and him and Erin moved away. It seemed like they had already been informed that Aaron didn’t have an EpiPen on him, because the first thing they did was inject him. There was one terrifying moment, in which Erin grabbed his wrist, where Dave thought they were too late, but they weren’t. 

Aaron opened his eyes, obviously disoriented and immediately after lifting his head, let it hit the floor again. He seemed far too pale, but nothing gave the impression that he was going to be sick, so Dave relaxed. When he and Erin were finally able to go over, Aaron was almost done answering their questions, some of the colour returning to his face in the form of flushed cheeks.

If he was capable of embarrassment, then everything was going to be fine.

“We’re going to need to take him to the hospital for observation and to make sure he doesn’t have a secondary reaction, but one of you is welcome to come. In fact, it would be preferred, wouldn’t it Aaron?” one of the paramedics said.

Aaron nodded, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Dave, you should go. Aaron, I don’t want to see you in the office until you’ve been cleared both by the doctors and by Haley to return. Do you understand me?” Erin chastised, sound every bit the mother Aaron had never had.

He nodded miserably, closing his eyes, and for a few moments, Dave felt terrible for him because so many pieces seemed to be falling into place now. And then he remembered that the whole thing had been caused by Aaron not saying he was allergic. He still felt terrible, but he also wondered what the hell he was meant to say to Haley.

“Come on kiddo,” he said as gently as he could, helping Aaron to his feet and into the elevator.

When he was safely sat in the ambulance, and they were well on their way to the hospital, he raised an eyebrow at Aaron who pulled a face.

“Don’t,” he protested weakly.

“So you’re allergic to strawberries,” Dave said. “How long have you been sitting on that piece of information for?”

“I’ve known since I was four and ended up in the hospital after I went strawberry picking with my mother and ate one of them.”

“Aaron, nobody was going to be offended. You could have just said something, it would have been okay. Really, you can’t judge someone just because they have an allergy, and everyone would have just moved on. You didn’t need to eat it.”

Aaron swallowed. “When I was eight, my father bought strawberry tarts for my mother and I, because he knew she had friends round and he wanted to seem like a dutiful husband. He didn’t- she’d kept the first time a secret from him because he’d been out of town. And when she tried to tell him, he said I was being difficult, then he made me eat it whilst she told her friends everything was fine. I only survived because she snuck in with my EpiPen.”

“Oh kid,” Dave said, chilled to the bone.

He shook his head. “I knew, realistically, that nobody would say anything, but I just couldn’t shake the memory of being told that if I was going to waste food, then I didn’t deserve it.”

“Aaron, that’s not-”

“I know that. Now at least. Thanks for not reacting weirdly. Or thinking less of me.”

“Agent Hotchner- are you still esquire, oh it doesn’t matter, esquire- nothing would ever make me think less of you. Especially not this. It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault, and I know it’s easy for me to see, but I need you to know that.”

Aaron gave him a slight smile, eyes watering. “Thank you Dave.”

“I do have one question though. Where the fuck was your EpiPen?”

He made a sound, one that Dave was not going to dignify by actually naming in his head.

“That didn’t sound like an answer young man,” he teased.

Aaron sighed. “It- okay. My blazer pockets weren’t big enough to fit it, and I figured strawberries isn’t exactly a common thing, so it would be fine if I left it in the car, but then I didn’t want to say anything, and then I passed out before I could- oh.”

“What?”

“Did everyone see me collapse?”

Dave considered lying, but Aaron had bared his soul to him. He owed him this small piece of honesty. “Yes, but they also witnessed me running like a headless chicken to get to the phone and Erin completely freaking out, so it’s all okay. I promise.”

Aaron nodded, not fully convinced. “Thank you. For caring.”

And one day, Dave would teach him that caring was what people did for each other. That it wasn’t something he had to earn, or something that would be snatched away at the smallest transgression. He would teach him that the love he had always deserved but never been shown was going to come from more than just Haley. It was going to come from every single good person he knew.

But in that moment, he just leant over and ruffled his hair. And maybe the gesture was paternal, but he could live with that.

“Mrs Hotchner’s been waiting for you all to arrive,” the receptionist said the moment they came through the doors. Aaron relaxed at the mention of his wife.

“You can send her in as soon as we go in. He’s been treated, we’re just keeping him for observation,” the paramedic said. The receptionist nodded and turned to one of their colleagues, who immediately got up.

Dave hung around as they got him situated, wondering when would be an appropriate time to leave. He didn’t want to step on Haley’s toes, or make her feel like she wasn’t trusted, but he also didn’t really want to leave either of them. Not if the real timeline matched the one he’d created in his head. She would have just been a child too, but children always believed that they needed to save everyone and anything less was a failure. He didn’t know how to say that their job was to be a child, and it was on the adults to keep them safe without patronising the two of them.

So he sat instead, keeping Aaron company until he was no longer needed.

Haley came rushing in the moment she was allowed to, her eyes slightly red. They must have told her how severe the situation was, and Dave felt guilty for making her panic so much, when Aaron was doing much better already.

“Baby, they told me what happened. How are you feeling? Is your heartbeat erratic? Is there anything you need?” she asked, not even acknowledging Dave. He wasn’t offended though. The love Haley had for her husband was the most fierce thing he’d witnessed, and now he understood. She’d spent her entire life defending him and the love she had for him.

He shook his head, then grinned at her. “Kiss me?” he asked, and for a moment, he was just a normal man, so in love with his wife it physically hurt to witness.

“I shouldn’t- me and Jess had strawberry margaritas before we got the phone call. She’s coming round tomorrow to check on you herself by the way,” Haley said, brushing his hair off his head with a smile.

Aaron nodded. “I’d expect nothing less. Oh Haley, this is Dave. And Dave, this is Haley.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Dave said. 

“You too. So, what happened? Because you told me it was just a function, and then when I got home, there was a message from the hospital that you were being brought in for anaphylactic shock which doesn’t make any sense because you don’t eat strawberries anymore!” Haley said.

Aaron had the decency to look away. “I didn’t want to cause a scene so I ate this slice of strawberry cheesecake. And I thought it would be fine- well not fine, don’t look at me like that. I thought I’d be able to last till I got home. I’m sorry.”

“Baby, I’m not angry, don’t worry,” Haley said, taking his hand. “Just do what the doctors say, okay? And please don’t eat strawberries anymore just to be polite.”

“I’m afraid I may have made it worse,” Dave confessed, needing them to know, even though it had not been intentional, by any stretch of the imagination.

“What do you mean? How?” Haley asked. Aaron lifted his arm enough to signal that he had the same question.

“I switched our plates when they got given to us so Aaron had the bigger slice. It also had a whole strawberry on it, instead of just half a slice. Maybe if I hadn’t done that, his reaction would have been less severe. I’m sorry.”

Haley, in spite of, or maybe because of that single comment, started laughing. Aaron just watched her laugh with a smile on his face like he had never seen something so beautiful, and he probably never had. Dave watched them, confusion across his features.

“I’m sorry. It’s not funny. It’s just- Dave you have nothing to apologise for. He was always going to have a reaction. And given that he didn’t even have his EpiPen-”

“It was in the car,” Aaron said, not quite whining but definitely getting close.

“Didn’t have his EpiPen,” Haley said, like Aaron hadn’t even spoken, “it was probably always going to end like this. I’m just laughing because you sound like such a parent. Like switching slices is something my dad did for me and Jess when we were little. It’s cute.”

Aaron looked to Dave, fearful and hopeful all at once.

“What can I say? Erin and I need to make sure someone keeps an eye on him,” he said. There were a lot of things in his life he wasn’t proud of. There were lots of mistakes he had made. But this? Being considered Aaron’s parent? It would never be one of them.

Aaron smiled at him, the light in his eyes returning. Haley nodded her approval. When the nurse came in a few minutes later to check Aaron’s vitals, the silence felt comfortable and natural, as though they had already become attuned to the others’ needs.

“Are you two going to be okay?” Dave asked. Someone needed to tell Erin that he was okay, and he really wanted to go to bed. He realised that he hadn’t even considered trying to salvage his date with Anya. He supposed they could always reschedule. Besides, Aaron was more important now.

Haley nodded. “Yeah, I’ll drive us home, make sure he takes a bath and have him back and safe with you on Monday, don’t worry.”

Dave stood up and started heading towards the door. “Oh don’t worry too much about rushing back to us. I’m sure we’ll survive. His cute butt will be missed, but we’ll make it through.”

Haley snorted. “Aaron didn’t I say that there was no way people hadn’t noticed?”

Aaron did not reply, but he did glare at both of them.

Dave smiled. Just before he left, he hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not it was the time and the place. But he just couldn’t resist. “So are there any other allergies we need to be aware of? Shellfish, pollen, nuts? Pretty ladies that want you to call them back?”

“Dave!” Aaron said, and this time it was definitely a whine.

He just smiled, leaving Aaron and Haley in the hospital room. Had it been a normal event? No. But he wouldn’t trade the night for anything in the world. After all, he had just found a whole new family. And he couldn’t wait for Haley to meet Erin. The two of them would definitely cause Hotcher a whole new level of embarrassment.

It was going to be the messiest and most random family to exist, but a family nonetheless.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #david rossi #haley hotchner #erin strauss #hotch x haley #tw child abuse #tw alcohol #tw anaphylaxis #tw allergies #tw child death #tw hospitals #guys i finally did it #tw food #sumayyah writes cm