#i sleep in a fucking kitchen chair every night because I'm terrified of my own bed

[jtownraindancer]

.

#having one of those nights where I'm just feeling so damn heavy #like a weight or a burden that no one wants to deal with #how so many people i care(d) about brushed me off because i either talk too much or too little and there's no fucking answer #i want to make more irl friends so bad but i also know that I'll just drive them all away again #who would want to be friends with me anyway honestly #i sleep in a fucking kitchen chair every night because I'm terrified of my own bed #i can't drive #most of the time i have only $5 to my name IF I'm lucky #I'm really bad at checking social media notifications #i can't have my phone at work so texting is out most of the time like #I'm so fucking tired and LONELY lately and i just want to hug alma again and spend time with mirage #and fucking hell i miss my friends so DESPERATELY but they have lives and i can't interrupt them with my issues #tbh the only reason I'm still around is because I can't remember if my life insurance would apply if i off myself #and it would be hard enough for mom as is but it would be so much harder if she couldn't get the money I'm saving for her #not opposed to a stray car doing the job or something though #i feel so trapped most days that i genuinely feel there's nothing else for me to live for #shut up ace #delete later

[muertawrites]

I don’t even know if your requests are open or closed,, so if they’re closed you can just ignore this☹️

So,, hear me out — it was present day, 2022, and Eddie and Y/n’s grandchild(ren) find photos of Eddie and Y/n in the 80’s, and Eddie and Y/n’s child, their mom, catches them looking at their parents photos, and when Eddie and Y/n find out about this, they offer to show their grandchild(ren) more photos.

I need some Eddie fluff,, sO😭 YEAHHH. anyway,, have a great day/night ily/p — 🦔 (call me hedgehog anon😁bc i love hedgehogs fr)

i am screaming. i am crying. i am puking up blood at how unbearably ADORABLE THIS REQUEST IS how dare you make me face my romanticism and sentimentality

i'm going to write this as just a headcanon bc if i think about it too hard i might actually shatter my own heart. i'm also gonna tweak the family setup a lil bit.

so like

let's talk about eddie in his 50s

that man's a silver fox. kept his long hair and totally metal wardrobe. aged to perfection. still a massive ball of unchecked chaotic good. owns a music shop and rides a motorcycle.

and of course he's still head over heels in love with you. every day he wakes up next to you and is like "that's my person. the most beautiful person in the entire world. i am so lucky <3". like he still gets butterflies around you. you've been married for 20 years but he still writes you notes like "will you go out with me yes or no"

and hey let's talk about that marriage!

it was not planned

you were perfectly happy living in a domestic partnership and not getting the law involved

until you both royally fucked up and he got you pregnant

and this poor man was terrified when you found out. not because he didn't think he could be a dad, but because he was afraid you were gonna leave him. you told him you didn't want kids and he went and did the big dumb and didn't use a condom. but he reminded you repeatedly that it was your body and he didn't care what you did, he would still love you and support you and be there through all of it.

but you actually decided... hey. if i'm gonna have a baby, eddie's the only baby daddy i could ever want. so you told him you wanted to be a family.

and he immediately proposed.

so fast forward to today. it's 2022, and your now full-grown baby is headed off to college. she's nervous as hell. so you pull out the shoebox full of photos of you and eddie when you were her age to help reassure her.

the first ones are just goofy ones, back from before you and eddie started dating. pictures from the road trip you guys took when he drove you to college, standing in front of his van packed with your stuff. pictures from parties you went to together, drunkenly laughing with plastic cups in hand. polaroids and letters you sent back and forth to each other, unable to talk about anything more than how much you miss each other.

the next ones you show her are of your pregnancy and her birth. eddie kissing your growing bump. standing with his arms wrapped around you in front of the house you bought. sleeping in a chair in the hospital with a bundle of blankets in his arms, thick tufts of black hair peeking out the top. uncles dustin and steve huddled around her, staring at her with massive grins on their faces. wayne sitting with her at his kitchen table, eddie at his side and both smiling adoringly down at her.

then there are the ones from her childhood, the ones she remembers. sitting on eddie's lap while he teaches her guitar. getting carried on his shoulders at her first metallica concert. giggling at the funny voices and faces he made while reading to her. asleep in the back seat of his van, curled up with the stuffed dragon she's had since she was a baby.

eddie making devil horns with her to celebrate her spelling bee win.

you braiding her unruly curls for her middle school graduation.

you and eddie hugging her in a sandwich on the night of junior prom, forcing her date to take the photo (not pictured is the very long, very menacing lecture eddie gave the poor boy, even though he was just taking her as a friend. it worked though - he got her home an hour before curfew.)

"... you didn't want a kid, right?" she asks. "how did... how did you do it?"

you sigh, pulling her in close.

"it was terrifying," you admit. "but... i had your dad. we had each other. and we had everyone else in the family with us, too. none of it has ever been easy, but it's all been so much better because we're surrounded by people who love us, and we love you more than anything. and that's what you've got to focus on. the good things will make you strong enough to kick the bad things in the teeth."

"hey, that's not how i taught her to fight," eddie chimes as he enters the room. "kicking teeth is too difficult. you gotta go for an uppercut, jam the fucker's nose into his skull."

he grins and flops down onto the couch beside her, kissing her forehead.

"ready to head out, padawan?"

she nods.

"yeah. i'm actually... i'm really excited!"

as you watch her bound into the back seat of eddie's jeeep, he wraps his arms around your shoulders, hugging you tightly and pressing your back to his chest.

"we made a pretty cool little human," he muses.

"yeah," you agree. "yeah, we really did."

#eddie munson #eddie asks #muerta's works #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #modern!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #🦔 anon

[castielmode]

ROMANCE. UNDER THE CUT

Dean wakes up to Cas joining him on his mattress on the floor.

"Sorry," Cas says. "I'm getting tired again, and every other place to lie down is occupied. Jody and Garth are outside keeping watch."

He knows that. Linda's on one couch, and Kevin is asleep on one of the camp chairs he put close to the fireplace. He's got two books in his lap, one open on top of the other, and a pencil still loosely held in his left hand. At least he won’t be cold, even if he is gonna fuck up his back sleeping like that. Then again, he’s eighteen. Maybe he’ll wake up fresh as a goddamn daisy. Dean knows Sam is in the bedroom because he sent him there when it looked like he was about to keel over. Charlie jokingly bitched about not getting the bed, but Dean told her it was Sam's because he’s sick and he needs to lay his gigantic body out. Charlie's on the other couch with a beanie and three blankets. She gets cold easily.

It's so quiet in the room, with everyone asleep but Dean. It's not eerie, but it is weird. He's never been very comfortable in the woods, where you can't hear anything but the animals that you don't have to worry about. Cas settling onto the air mattress makes that creaking noise that air mattresses make at the slightest move. He breathes out slow and heavy as he lets his muscles relax. The mattress complains some more.

“You’re getting tired a lot.” Dean says.

“Yeah.” Cas is much better at whispering these days, Dean thinks absently. Used to be he didn’t care who or what heard him when he spoke. “I don’t think a seraph is supposed to have this tablet. It might be -- not intended, but more suited to other angelic orders.”

“What does that mean for you?”

Cas shrugs, flat on his back, fully dressed on the left side of Dean’s bed. Poor bastard doesn’t even have a pillow. There’s an extra one Dean threw over to the side that’s left from Charlie’s earlier nap, because she likes holding onto something when she sleeps. She seems to have decided to go without it this time round, so Dean tugs it closer, motions for Cas to lift up, places it under his head. Cas says, “I don’t know. It could be detrimental, it could have no effect once I’m no longer in contact with it, it could have a long-term effect on my grace for better or worse -- there’s no precedent. I don’t think anyone’s put a tablet inside of their vessel before.”

“Yeah, you little original thinker, you.” Cas glares, but it’s kind of a low-effort version. Dean laughs at him, quiet as the woods outside. He’s gotta ask, though. “You gonna take care of yourself, Cas?”

Cas looks at him. “Like you?”

“No, man,” Dean looks back. Cas smirks, just a bit, smug. Dean thinks of the second time he ever saw him, in Bobby’s kitchen, blue and silver in the night and confident with all of heaven’s might and his own convictions behind him. He was fucking scary back then. Now he changes clothes and needs to sleep and shower, and somehow, he still gets this light in his eyes sometimes and he's terrifying. Even now. He's not even doing anything. Dean lets himself take a deep breath and act like he’s not scared of his best friend. “Okay, all right. Splinters and beams, okay, I get it. I’m just saying, you should. ‘Cause you’re not gonna let us do it.”

“Dean --”

“You could, you know.” Cas looks away, which doesn’t matter, exactly, but - “Me and Sam, we’re not that bad at it.”

Frowning at the ceiling, Cas says, “Is this a... a family thing?”

“Family, friends, allies -- yeah, man, any way you slice it, it’s our job, and you’ve earned it.” Dean doesn’t know what he’s trying to get across here, but it’s crucial that he does. He keeps his voice quiet. “You just gotta let us do it.”

For a while, Dean is sure Cas has fallen asleep, but then he says, “So, if we’re family, that means that I get to take care of you, too.”

Dean’s throat clicks on the swallow. “Yeah. Sure, man. Whatever you want.”

The quiet stretches and looms, until Cas says, decisive and still in that low voice -- "All right."

And then Cas does go to sleep, and Dean stays awake for at least another hour and a half trying to figure out what the fuck they actually said to each other before the crackling fire and the relief of having everyone under the same roof finally puts him back to sleep.

#abuses the em dash like it's my job

[heresathreebee]

Bloody Mess

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

AN: ok 1st of all this got Nasty and also I wanted to try a different format

Warning(s): +17 | Hemophilia, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), mentions of abuse, dead body (he deserved it), little rough, sub!Ralph Lamont, cum eating, hair pulling. Masterlist

Alright so I was dragging my feet to watch the episode of Blue Bloods with Alex Brightman in it and I'm glad I did because I got some cool ideas. I don't watch cop centric shows anymore but I thought Ralph would be a cool Italian mob type: turns out he's some dickhead twitch gamer who murdered a girl for stupid reasons I can't remember. 

So fuck cannon, he's a 90's mobman now. 

**YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED**

Imagine Ralph Lamont is a one man clean up crew. He's the go-to guy for any jobs gone wrong, gone messy. Body needs disappearing without a trace? Ralphie's your guy. 

Kinda like The Wolf from Pulp Fiction (Tarentino, 1994) 

Hydrochloric acid, latex, bleach, bone saw: all he needs is a few hours and it's like there was never a brutal murder here. (Sometimes this is accomplished with a distraction, a staged robbery or shoot out a few counties over if there were too many witnesses)

So Mr. Clean I mean Mr. Lamont gets a job at your home. 

It's a cute little 3rd floor apartment with a Mr. and Mrs. Andersen living in it. 

Mr. Andersen is– pardon, was– a bookkeeper for Dr. Coolidge (friend of Ralphie's; they both like sterile environments), so it's a favor. Dr. Coolidge mentioned over the phone he expected something "like this" to happen sooner or later. He asked Ralphie to be delicate with you– the late Mrs. Andersen. 

You buzz him in without a word. 

He finds you leaning against the kitchen island, putting out the cherry of your cigarette. You put it out right on Mr. Andersen's ugly yellow tie (or he thinks it used to be yellow)

It's a fucking blood bath in here. Mr. Andersen was a bleeder. Red splashes and streaks cover the counters, the toaster, the oven door, the fridge. There are bloody footprints on the floor and an honest-to-go pool of it dripping off the counter right next to Andersen's final resting place. You left the steak knife in his throat and he must have sat down in that island chair never to get back up again. His eyes are listless and grey. 

Ralphie walks around you, careful to keep you in his peripheral just in case you weren't done "expressing yourself." The linen of your frock is stained, your feet are bare, and your eye is black and swollen. Some of your bruises are old. 

In his sweep, he finds three bloodied knives in the sink: a bread knife, a fillet knife, and a cleaver. 

"Mrs. Andersen," he says as he turns back to you, "if you wouldn't mind moving to the bedroom for me? You've made quite a mess and I'd hate for you to have to see anymore violence." 

"You gonna fight him for my honor? He's already dead." 

Ralphie chuckles. "No ma'am. I'm gonna cut him up into pieces so the gallons of acid I brought with me dissolve his corpse efficiently. I'll need to borrow your bathtub for that, and you don't want to try getting cleaned up after the fact. It's no good for the skin." 

He's circled around the white marble kitchen island to stand before you. He's calm. The smile on his face is easy and it soothes you. You drop your eyes and catch an unexpected sight. 

"Are you…" you wipe at your mouth a accidentally leave a crusted red streak. "Do you get off on this?" 

Mr. Lamont shifts his stance; no doubt you've seen the light tent in his pants. "What can I say except I admire your handiwork, Mrs. Andersen. I imagine you may have wanted him to die slowly and painfully. Was it all that you hoped for?" 

You turn sheepish (incredible, really, surrounded by such admirable evidence of your own rage) and nod. "It was…" 

"Glad to hear," he says softly. "Now, if you wouldn't mind..." 

He places a gentle hand on your shoulder but you step away from the island and change his distant, guiding gesture into an intimate embrace. He looks at you in surprise when he feels you wrap your hands around his back beneath his blazer. 

"I seem to suffer a similar affliction," you tell him and press yourself into his erection. "You wouldn't mind giving a girl a hand, would you?" 

Well it certainly wasn't part of the job, but he was eager to please. 

“As you like it,” he whispered, pulling you into a soft kiss. 

Your blood sings in your veins. You’ve just killed your no good louse of a husband and now you’ve got your tongue down a stranger’s throat. And a handsome one too, so polite (you were still wary of him but if Dr. Coolidge sent him perhaps he couldn’t be all bad)

You tug at his tie as if it would make him any closer to being inside of you. The smell of copper is a never ending assault on your senses, but you also smell wood smoke beneath it on his collar. 

Mr. Lamont’s cheeky hands find your hips and a second later he’s helping you sit up on the kitchen counter. You can see your husband from the corner of your eye, his mouth hanging open in eternal anguish. It just serves to intensify your lust for life. 

You give Mr. Lamont's belt a meaningful tug and slip back down to the floor to turn around

You mean to ask him to help you with your zipper, but instead you feel his lips at your neck just before his hand grips the back of your head and pushes you down, face first into the counter inches away from the pool of blood. 

Your hand slides through the sticky essence and you feel Lamont draw your skirts up and your underthings down. 

You gasp with a shriek as you feel something hot slide up your slit and over your other hole. Did he just lick you??? 

The living man growls in what sounds like pleasure, pulling at his sleek tie just enough to loosen the constriction at his throat and then he’s shucking his pants down. 

You’re not sure if you want him to work you up slowly or take what he wants but you hold your breath and let him lead. You’re far from disappointed when he massages the meat of your rear and leans over your back. 

“You can still change your mind, doll,” he whispers, “not too late to go shower and forget today.” 

You consider it but you don’t want to forget. You want the feeling of Georgie’s life slipping through your fingers to soothe you to sleep every night. You want to carry the pleasure of giving your former husband a reason for his rampant jealous streak and know that for once there was nothing he could do about it. You want this living man to make this strange and terrifying day to end in bliss and solidify everything like lightning striking sand.  

You lift your head and run your dripping red hand through his pristine locks. He locks eyes with you and a shiver runs through him as a droplet lands on his nose. “I don’t want to stop, Mr. Lamont. Now be a good guest and fuck me.” 

“Call me Ralphie please,” he breathes, and he’s all too happy to comply. You feel his cock slip between your folds and as he enters you as he promised, you lick your lips and taste cherry and rust. 

“Ralphie… Ralphie…” He loves the sound of his name on your lips, the squishing sound of your lovely womanhood taking everything he gives it. He puts a single hand on your hip leans back to take it all in: the bloody kitchen, the stiff, the lecherous moans, the sweat making his shirt stick to his back, the misleading cleanliness of the back of your dress…

Mr. Lamont runs his hand through the slime in his hair but that blood is already drying. He splashes it into the pool next to you and leaves a bloody print on your back, holding you down to the counter by your shoulder and driving his hips into you harder. 

He can hear you’re close by the crescendo of your voice. He’s close too, and ever the gentleman, he slips out of you and flips you onto your back, pulling up a dainty leg in your daze so he can re enter your heat like he belonged there. He’s resumed fucking you in mere seconds and he likes this position because now he can see your eyes roll back into your head. 

“Where do you want it,” he grunts out. He’s trying not to come but he doesn’t have the willpower to slow down. He needs your answer, and fast...

For a moment your eyes go hard. Mr. Lamont gulps and worries for a second you’re going to pull the steak knife out of your husband’s throat to slit his, but instead you take a hold of his hair and pull his head back into an awkward but commanding angle. 

He feels your breath ghost over his neck. “My house, my rules. Make me see stars and I’ll tell you when to stop.” 

You sink your teeth into his neck and reach down to circle your pearl. Mr. Lamont does as he’s told, hissing and grunting but he holds off his release to give you exactly what you want. 

He has to stop thrusting when you start those delicious rhythmic tremors. He has to hold you up as you throw your head back and lose your balance, dependent on him to keep you upright. He takes over rubbing your pearl with a similar pressure as the one he watched you give yourself, and eased you back down from heaven into the bloody abyss on earth. 

For a second Ralph fears you’ve got too much control. What will he do if you tell him not to come at all? He’ll do as you command, of course, but how cruel were you going to treat him now that you’ve gotten what you wanted? He’s seen your handiwork all around, remember that. 

But your eyes turn soft and he’s worried you’re about to cry, that is until he watches you slip down to your bruised knees and ease your dress down your shoulders. Now you look positively debauched, breast bared and eyes turned up with a pleading look. 

“Finish on me, Ralphie.” You bit your lip and hope to god he’s still listening. “Right over my heart.” 

Ralph Lamont has never whimpered before. He’s doing it right now. How the fuck did he end up like this? 

He strokes his cooling cock, taking everything in from his position above you and feeling his drumming heartbeat in the throbbing of his member. The only word going through his head is yes

Ralphie gives one of you tits a squeeze, then gets an idea

It's a little awkward trying to get you to understand, but you catch on and there's this eager glow in your eyes

You help him slot his cock between your breasts and continue to jerk him off, using your hands as necessary to assist

He's not far now seeing you-- feeling you like that

Ralphie comes with a groan, a white rope painting your chin and splattering cockeyed down over your neck and onto the tops of your breasts. He has to catch himself on the counter as the next rope dribbles lower, half slipping into your cleavage and the rest staining the neckline of your ruined dress. His hips jerk once, twice. You let him slip from your embrace and twist your hand over the head just to milk whatever he has left into your mouth, and then he collapses into a heap beside you. 

You let him catch his breath for a minute, then grasp his jaw and turn his head towards you. You’re looking down your nose at him again and his vulnerable eyes beg for more. 

“Now look what you’ve done,” you gesture to the milky essence covering your skin in mock annoyance. “Clean it up like a good boy.” 

Eyes half lidded, Ralphie leans towards you in a trance, tongue swiping over every pearlescent trail and stray droplet until you’re ‘clean’ again

Completely spent, the man rests his head against your shoulder. Your hands come up to cradle him, stroking his matted hair as if you've not a care in the world

When he's ready he helps you stand up and straightens his clothes

Instead of helping you back into yours he strips you of them

"These will have to be burned, I'm afraid," he tells you. "Go on now, take a nice long bath and I'll call Kevin to see if he can take you somewhere for the night

You have to clear the tub and run it again to get truly clean. All of that grime builds up thick on your skin while you were having your acts of catharsis. 

You slip into a satin frock in your favorite color and let Kevin whisk you away to a movie for the night

As you fix your earring in the rearview mirror, you catch sight of Ralph Lamont on your balcony. He waves down at you leaning against the ledge and unbothered by the state of his clothes. From this far down, it doesn't look like blood

But you know better, don't you?

@hoodoo12 @escape-your-grape

#Ralph Lamont x reader #Alex Brightman #three bees writing #🐝🐝🐝✒ #smut #tw blood #black reader insert

[evanoracronwell]

Sunrise

Malex Cupid 2021 by @malex-cupid​

Day 3: “Do you know what today is?”

Also on ao3

__________________________________________________________

It is the sound of the phone ringing that awakens him.

With a grunt, he rolls over the bed until he reaches the nightstand and picks up the device, when he sees the notification on the screen the smile opens on his lips, and any irritation at being woken up disappears.

I'm already on my way home.

I can't wait to see you.

Love you.

Alex.

Alex, his beautiful and irresistible boyfriend.

And fuck if Michael would ever get tired of that word.

Smiling like a teenager, Michael answered the message, and as soon as he pressed to send he heard the growl coming from his feet on the bed. Wrinkling his nose, he looked at the beagle spread on the bed with his face completely mashed from sleeping.

"What is it, girl? It's not that early, it was almost time to get up anyway. We have a lot of things to take care of today"

With an excitement that made Buffy snort indignantly, Michael got out of bed and goes straight to the bathroom to take a quick shower and finish waking up.

Today was a very important day.

It was the first Valentine's Day that he and Alex would spend together, as a couple.

And well, honestly speaking, it was the first Valentine's Day that Michael would celebrate at all. He had no idea how to make it work. But it had to be perfect.

Because Alex deserved nothing but perfection.

So he changed his clothes and get ready to start the day.

He took Buffy for a walk even though the dog was clearly outraged about getting out of bed so early on Sunday morning.

He cleaned the whole cabin, feeling extremely proud of the home he built with Alex.

Now completely renovated, the cabin barely resembled that house that Alex had inherited from old Jim.

The couple's bedroom had been painted a light color, the bed replaced by a king bed, the wardrobe custom-made by Michael himself. The chair in the corner where Buffy always took refuge to sleep when she wasn't in bed with them.

The bathroom had been enlarged and adapted to Alex's needs, the treat they had done to themselves by buying a hot tub, and that they spent hours and hours in the water relaxing after a tiring day.

The living room now has a huge and comfortable sofa, armchairs and a television.

The kitchen had been renovated and modernized.

Everything was so perfect, so ... theirs.

The photos were scattered around the rooms. Showing captured moments of happiness between him, Alex, and the whole gang.

After so many years, Michael finally had a home to call his own.

And most importantly, a home with Alex. What made it even more special

With the house clean it was Buffy's turn to face the terrible shower, and the cowboy could only laugh while the dog whimpered as if she were suffering the worst torture at the hand of one of her fathers. But there she was, bathed and smelling the baby scent of the products they bought at the pet store, and with a pretty red bow that Isobel had made to buy for the dog.

And that was exactly why today had to be just perfect.

Because after eight months of living together, he would finally ask the hand of that beautiful man in marriage.

"Okay girl, now you behave yourself because Dad needs to go out and buy things to make dinner. Your daddy will be here tonight." He smiled when he saw how Buffy immediately reacted to Alex's mention. "That's right, girl, he'll be back today."

Michael had also changed a lot, months ago he had opened his own mechanical garage after old Sander decided to retire, the place had undergone a major renovation and was nowhere near the old Junkyard. Michael even had employees working with him, well ... just two kids that Michael was still training and teaching everything. But they were good kids and above all, hardworking, and after all, Michael never even imagined that he would have his own business.

As he drove to the market downtown, Michael found himself thinking about how much life had changed.

After Alex finally left the air force, he got a job at a private security company in Washington, but luckily he could work remotely, they paid extremely well and it made the job too perfect for Alex to turn down, so now taking the few trips he took to personally attend a few customers, Alex was always at home.

When parking the truck in front of the market, the cowboy smiled when he saw his sister standing at the front door waiting for him.

"You know when I said I was coming to the market when you called me, it wasn't an invitation for you to join me." Michael grunted, rolling his eyes as he grabbed a shopping cart and Isobel joined him in the aisles.

"Please, as if you could keep me away. Now tell me, how are the preparations for the big night?"

"I already cleaned the whole cabin and bathed Buffy and yes, I put on the bow you brought her yesterday."

"Great, my niece has to be beautiful. The candles?"

"I have already spread some of those aromatic candles around the house, I will light them as soon as I hear his car pull over. The delivery man left the flowers for me just before I left the house, they are already in the water and I will finish fixing them when I return home."

"Your clothes?"

"Washed and ironed."

"The ring?"

"On my nightstand."

"Your heart?"

"Coming out from my mouth."

Isobel laughed out loud at her brother's terrified look and hugged him around the waist, laying her head on his shoulder as she watched Michael go putting all the items in the cart.

"Michael, he loves you. Nothing is going to go wrong tonight, trust me. He will say yes. There is no couple in the world more perfect for each other than the two of you."

"We really are perfect together, aren't we?"

Isobel laughed again at her brother's silly passionate look, but she still agreed, because in fact there was no couple more in love and more perfect for each other than Michael and Alex.

"So, what's the menu going to be?"

The small box in his trouser pocket seemed to weigh a ton, making Michael's nervousness increase by the second.

Well, it turns out that cooking seems a lot easier in the videos he had seen on the internet than in practice. Not that Michael was not a good cook, he was, but he understood a lot more about cooking typical daily foods, yet he couldn't deny that he did an excellent job.

A few hours later and he had a perfect gorgonzola risotto, a rare grilled steak with a sauce of herbs and vegetables sautéed in butter. The table was already prepared with candles and a flower arrangement, beautiful, but small so that it wouldn't disturb them to look each other in the eye.

With a shower already taken and perfumed Michael looked in the mirror, that was not the kind of clothes he used to wear, dark gray trousers and a light blue shirt, but it was worth it, especially when he knew how turned on gets seeing him like that.

Perfect.

Tonight had to be perfect.

When Alex parked in front of the cabin all he could think about was how much he missed Michael, after four days away, all he wanted to hug his boyfriend and get into the hot tub for hours.

Upon opening the door, however, Alex felt his heart skip a beat.

"Do you know what today is?”

The room was lit only by two lamps that barely gave any light, leaving the rest of the lighting responsible for some candles. And flowers, white roses because Michael knew it was Alex's favorite, scattered as buds and petals everywhere. And right there, in the middle of the room, the most beautiful of all men.

Michael looked at him with a smile on his lips and his eyes were already watering.

"Michael ...?" Alex asked confused but thrilled as he dropped his backpack at the entrance to the cabin and took a step closer to Michael.

"It's Valentine's Day Alex, our first Valentine's Day together. And I've spent a lifetime wishing for this day, but never really believing that it could truly happen. Thirteen years ago you gave me a place to spend the cold nights, a guitar, and one of the most beautiful smiles I've ever seen in my life. " Michael started talking, staring at Alex, who was still a little confused, walking towards his boyfriend until he stopped in front of him. "You showed me that there was good in people and that there was a place for me here, on Roswell. On this planet. You gave me hope, Alex, hope that I could be happy, hope that there was more to people than just cruelty and second intentions. You taught me what it is to love and be loved in such a pure and intense way that it stayed with me, saved in my heart for more than a decade. Nurturing and comforting me every time I felt alone and lost. "

The cowboy smiled and touched Alex's face, who was looking at him so beautifully, his eyes already wet and shedding silent tears, both of them barely moving in fear of breaking that moment so sublime. Michael, speaking in a whisper as if he was afraid to wake up from that dream he felt he was living.

"There hasn't been a single day in my life that I haven't missed you, that I haven't thought of you, and most of all, that I haven't loved you. I'm yours, Alex, totally and completely yours, body, soul, and heart. I am yours to do anything you want. I always have been and will continue to be until my last breath, and beyond that too. I waited more than a decade to finally have you in my arms, and here we are living a life that I never even dared to dream of being possible. But we're here, celebrating our first Valentine's Day together. But I want more. "

With a beautiful smile, Michael took the box out of his pocket and saw how Alex immediately choked and sobbed as Michael went down on one knee showing him a beautiful and delicate silver band.

"I want to celebrate every Valentine's day with you, I want to start a family and see kids running around in our backyard, I want to adopt more dogs, I want to grow old by your side Alex. So please, could you make me the happiest man in the world and accept being my husband?"

Feeling completely overwhelmed with all the emotions he felt at that moment, Alex felt unable to even breathe for a few seconds while looking at Michael.

The beautiful and irresistible, Michael.

The eternal love of his life, Michael.

Kneeling at his feet asking Alex to be his forever.

"There is nothing in this world that I want more than to be your husband."

It was Buffy's bark that woke him, the small, plump beagle was lying on the sofa and Alex laughed when he saw her adorned with a red bow with the words "be my valentine" in white. Looking back at the man kneeling in front of him, Alex smiled so delighted and in love that Michael didn't even dare to blink for fear of losing that vision.

Alex never thought it possible to love that man more than he already did, but here was Michael proving him wrong.

Alex answered in a hoarse and choked voice and then threw himself into Michael's arms causing them to fall on the carpet in the middle of the room, between tears and laughter they kissed in love while Buffy barked and mumbled as if she were also celebrating the news.

"I love you, Michael." Alex murmured against Michael's already red and swollen lips after exchanging long, passionate kisses.

"I love you, too, Alex."

When the next day dawned, Michael grunted when he felt the light coming through the window waking him up. But the sigh coming from the man between his arms made him open his eyes and smile.

Last night had been perfect, much more than he had imagined.

Alex had accepted his proposal, they had eaten dinner while talking and listening to the soft melody that Michael had selected to play, and then they had spent a long time immersed in the hot tub where Michael sank into Alex's body, loving every bit of skin that he could touch. Only later, they went to bed and it was the cowboy's turn to ride Alex passionately, taking all the beautiful moans out of that mouth that he loved to kiss.

Now, holding the most important person in his life in his arms, Michael sighed contentedly as he brought his body closer to Alex, wrapping him tighter in his arms, and then smiled seeing the ring adorning that beautiful man's finger.

Alex, his fiance.

Alex, his future husband.

Yes, Michael smiled feeling his heart overflowing with love and happiness.

He smiled feeling the warmth of a new sunrise touching his skin and bringing all the promise of a long and happy life with Alex

Life couldn't be more perfect.

#malex #malec fic #malexcupid21 #day 3 #prompt: do you know what today is? #alex manes #michael guerin #roswellnm #malex fluff #valentinesday #proposal