#sander would have been so hot in eyeliner

[mullendriesen]

the lighting of this clip got me thinking about how we deserved to see sander in eyeliner

#wtfock #sander driesen #sobbe #i miss sander #i miss wtfock #sander would have been so hot in eyeliner #not that he wasnt already hot #but like you know he would have looked good #skam

[pastelwitchling]

Somebody to You (1/4)

Chapter 1. Hidden Feelings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “Alex –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “Tell me something,” he sighed, leaning his head back and not at all paying attention to the dotted white clouds across the blue sky. “Anything.”

                “Okay?” Max said more in the form of a question. “I – uh – saw Liz today. In the music room. With Alex.”

               He groaned. “Anything else.”

               Max nudged his knee with the back of his hand. “Hey, what’s wrong with you? You look like someone just smashed your guitar.”

               My guitar. The guitar that Alex had given him because Michael had offhandedly mentioned once that music helped ease the noise in his mind. How had he not known then? Alex had paid such special attention to him. He had read his mind and known what his heart had wanted and given it to him when no one else bothered to look past the excitement of getting to rebel under the bleachers with the genius trailer trash.

               How had he not known?

               “I changed my mind,” he said. “Don’t speak. Just let me wallow.”

               “Huh,” Max said. “Isobel’s been a fortress since she joined the Spring Dance committee, and you’re busy falling into your own despair for whatever reason.” He pulled a little brown leather notebook out of his back pocket. “Do any of my siblings have time for me?”

               “I’m not falling into anything,” Michael grumbled. “Why do you have to get so poetic about . . . every . . . damn . . .” he trailed off, his eyes narrowing at the notebook. “Alex has that same notebook.”

               Max hummed noncommittally, leaning back in his seat again and resting the notebook on his lap as he began doodling a rose. “Different colors though,” he said. “His is black. They got mixed up last week when he and I bumped into each other in the school hallway.”

               An idea formed, somewhere in the back of his mind. Like water on ink; something definitely there, but unreadable. He leaned back again, wiping whatever the itch was from his eye.

               “I don’t want to think about Alex right now,” he muttered, though even as he said it, his thoughts taunted him. Alex was all he could think about right now.

               “Whoa,” Max blinked. Even he knew how much Alex and Michael treasured each other. Michael had never said he didn’t want to do something where Alex was concerned. “You guys have a fight or something?”

               “No,” Michael said, though a fight might’ve been easier to deal with. “I found out . . . I heard Liz say . . .” He huffed, closing his eyes. He blurted. “Alex is in love with me.”

               Silence. Michael opened his eyes and saw Max’s expression completely unsurprised. He looked like he was waiting for Michael to get to the point.

               He straightened. “Are you kidding me? You really knew?”

               Max scoffed. “You really didn’t?”

               “No!” he gaped and stood. “He’s my best friend, why would I think he was in love with me?!”

               “Because he’s your best friend.”

               “So?!”

               “So!” Max said like it was obvious. “Alex hates people! Liz and Kyle are his only friends, he barely tolerates me and Isobel, and Rosa Ortecho swears he hissed at her once!” He huffed a disbelieving chuckle. “Before you came along, Liz told me he never said two words to anybody he hadn’t known since before his mom left. You want to take a guess as to why he warmed up to you so quickly?”

               Michael didn’t answer. Max grabbed his arm. “And for the love of god, stop pacing, you’re making me nauseous.”

               He tugged him down onto the lawn chair, and Michael sagged against it. He stared into the distance, lost in his memories of his first meeting with Alex. Alex had been bullied, pushed into a tree and made fun of for stares and feelings he had yet to understand himself. Then Michael had jumped between him and the bullies, waving a tree branch, screaming at them to get away or he would kill them.

               It had been the wildness of his eyes and words, wildness he’d gained from years with monsters for parents, that had unnerved them in the end. Alex had taken his offered hand with wide eyes then, and timidly asked, “You’re not scared of me?”

               Michael had known then that this twelve-year-old had been told too often that he was something unnatural, something wrong, and was expecting it from someone else now. So he’d looked Alex over, as if checking for bruises, and rested the branch on his shoulder like it had been a bat.

               He’d grinned and said, “No fangs or a tail. You look fine to me!”

               After that moment, Alex had followed him everywhere, his eyes never anything less than adoring.

               Michael shut his eyes. How could he have not known?

               A buzzing against his thigh snapped him out of his thoughts, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Alex was calling.

               “Shit,” he leapt to his feet, holding the phone at a distance as if afraid that Alex could somehow see him through the camera. “Shit shit shit.”

               “What?” Max followed and his shoulders slumped at the sight of Alex’s name. “Dude, just answer. He doesn’t know you know, remember?”

               “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, right, yeah.”

               “It’s still just Alex.”

               “Just Alex,” he repeated. “It’s just Alex.” He answered the call, held the phone to his ear, and all but yelled, “Hey!” He winced at himself and Max rolled his eyes.

               “Hey?” Alex asked, laughter in his voice. He didn’t sound like he’d just been crying his eyes out at all. Then it hit Michael. Alex was abused. He was used to hiding his scars. “Why’re you screaming?”

               “I’m not!” he said, then adjusted his volume with a clear of his throat. “I’m – uh – I’m not. What’s up?”

               He loves me. He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

               Michael, so caught in the thought, completely missed what Alex had asked him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry,” he grit out, “say that again?”

               “Oh, I’m sorry, is the auto shop really busy right now?” Alex asked like he knew the answer. “Pay attention, Guerin, this is important!”

               Of course, Michael had ditched time and time again because they hardly had any cars in around now, and all Sanders did when he was an hour late was yell and grumble, then give him and Alex an extra plate of whatever he’d had for lunch.

               “I asked what time you were coming to my gig tonight,” he said, a little more hesitantly. When Michael didn’t answer, he cleared his throat. “At the – uh – the Wild Pony? Just so I can save you a seat.”

               Michael let his hand with the phone fall, his shoulders slumped. For years, he’d owed that nervous stammer in Alex’s voice, the way he went from confident to shy with just a second of Michael’s silence, to nerves about his gigs. Now he speculated it was because of something else.

               Damn it. He wished he’d never known about Alex’s feelings. He wished he could unhear everything.

               He realized Alex was talking again, and he held the phone to his ear.

               “If you can’t make it,” he was saying, “I get it, I just need to know for the seats, you know?”

               Michael had never canceled on Alex before, but Alex was a little sensitive where his music was concerned. Michael assumed it was because he had a father and brothers who belittled what he did every day, no matter how often Michael told him he loved his songs.

               He gripped the phone tightly. He wondered what Alex would do if he canceled on him now.

               “Michael,” Max mouthed, “talk to him.”

               “Guerin,” Alex huffed a laugh. It sounded forced. “Dude, it’s fine. It’s one gig, I think our friendship will survive.”

               Will it? Michael feared. Will it survive this, Alex? Will it survive feelings that friends shouldn’t have for each other? Will it survive if I can’t help but look into the double meaning of every word you say now?

               He felt oddly frustrated with Alex, like this was his fault somehow. Like he was singlehandedly destroying everything they’ve ever had by wanting more.

               “Is it another gig?” Max asked, nudging his elbow. “Will Liz be there? Ask him if Liz will be there.”

               Michael rolled his eyes, about to snap at his brother that this was not the time. Couldn’t he see that Michael was suffering some emotional turmoil over here?

               “Guerin,” Alex tried again. “Are you there?” He heard a sigh, and Alex mumbled, “Is the reception bad?”

               Michael hated this. He was starting to scare Alex, and it was the very last thing he wanted to do. Max was still asking about Liz, his notebook, just like Alex’s but a different color, in his hand, and Michael clenched his jaw. Max liked Liz, but it would be so much easier for everyone if . . . if . . .

               His eyes widened. The idea that had begun to sink below the depths of his mind surfaced now. Before he could make it out completely, he found himself saying, “Sorry, hang on a second, babe, my brother keeps trying to talk to me.”

               “Oh!” relief flooded Alex’s voice and he chuckled breathlessly. It sounded so much more real, and that hurt Michael all the more. “Yeah, sure! God, Michael, you freaked me out a second there. Yeah, take your time.”

               Michael covered the speaker on his phone and told Max quietly, “I need you to come to Alex’s gig with me.”

               Max’s eyes widened. “Liz will be there?”

               “Doesn’t matter,” Michael said. “I need you to ask out Alex.”

               Max stared a moment, then, “What?”

               Michael held up a finger to his brother and brightened his tone when he told Alex, “Hey, Alex, can I bring Max to your gig tonight?”

               “W-wait,” Max said, “Michael, what’d you mean, ask out Alex? Was that a joke?”

               Michael ignored him as Alex scoffed. “Sure. But you’re definitely coming, right? Because I was totally lying before. If you don’t make it, I’ll never talk to you again.”

               Michael smiled and almost said, Would I ever not show up for you?, realized how Alex might take it, and diverted at the last second.

               “Uh – yeah – see you tonight, then.”

               It was awkward and unnatural for them, but Alex hardly seemed to notice, lost in his own happiness, as he told Michael he’d see him tonight, and hung up.

               He barely met Max’s dark eyes and crossed arms when Max said, “No.”

               “Hear me out –”

               “If your next sentence doesn’t end with, ‘and then everyone will laugh, and it’ll totally take the edge off,’ I don’t want to hear it.”

               “One date!” he begged, following Max back to the chairs and their backpacks. “Just one! Consider it a birthday present to me! For the next five years – no, ten years!”

               “This isn’t a favor, Michael!” Max argued. “I’m not going to ask your best friend out just so you can avoid having to talk about this!”

               “But –”

               “Besides,” Max said, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, “I’m not gay or bisexual or pansexual or anything. He’d smell a fake a mile away.”

               “You’d totally pass for bisexual!” Michael argued. “Look at you” – he tapped Max’s arms, his chest, his notebook – “you have the whole muscly jock with a tender heart thing going on, come on!”

               Max stared. “Do you hear yourself?”

               “Max,” he urged. “I need you to do this one thing for me! I’d do it for you!”

               “You wouldn’t have to,” Max said. “I don’t pass off people who like me to my brother like a freaking torch.”

               Michael winced, and Max sighed, his expression softening. “And I like Liz, remember?”

               “Then this’ll be the perfect in for you,” he insisted. “Getting close to Alex means getting close to Liz. Then, in – in a month, just until the Spring Dance, you can smooth your way to Liz, and Alex will know the breakup is coming.”

               Michael swallowed thickly before he said, “I know him. He hates being left behind, so he’ll end things first.”

               Max shook his head. “And he’ll be heartbroken. Assuming your plan works. Is that what you want, Michael?”

               Michael hesitated, then, “It’ll just break for a minute.” He added quickly, “Th-then I’ll come in, and he won’t want to date your brother, so he’ll know we’re better off as friends.”

               He pursed his lips a moment, then walked past him. “You’re crazy.”

               Michael clenched his jaw and blocked Max’s path. “I can’t date Alex,” he said fiercely. “I can’t.”

               “He doesn’t know you overheard anything,” Max told him, not unkindly. “Can’t you just . . . play along?”

               Michael shook his head, his fists tight at his side. “It’ll come out,” he said. “I know it will. Please, Max, I . . . I can’t lose him. I need you.”

               Those were the words, Michael knew, that Max could never say no to. Those were the words that he and Isobel used only in extreme cases, when guilt for taking advantage of their brother’s good heart had to be put aside to fix whatever had happened. Michael hated using them, had used them only once before in his life, but knew he had to use them again now.

               Max sighed and looked away, something like resignation settling in the slump of his shoulders. A moment’s pause, then – “Alex hates me.”

               “No,” Michael breathed, already smiling despite the pinch in his chest that he would’ve rather not thought about. “You said it yourself, he barely tolerates you.” He took Max’s journal and held it up. “And if anyone can make something into something more, it’s a writer.”

               *

               Max wasn’t good at being a boyfriend. Not that he’d ever been anyone’s boyfriend, but that was the problem. He had no idea how to flirt or tease or ask anyone out. It was why he’d spent the better part of the last year pining after Liz Ortecho, stumbling through his hellos.

               Now, for whatever reason, he was prepping himself to ask out someone for the first time in his life. And it was Liz’s best friend. The things he did for his siblings . . .

               As Michael parked his truck outside the Wild Pony, Max thought about the few times he’d seen Alex around town. He was reminded of the Greek mythology stories he loved reading; of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, and how sunlight couldn’t touch him. He was nothing like his brothers who were all on one sports team or another. Who seemed to have no problem being popular.

               Though none of them, he knew, were like Alex. The dark prince, the one everyone wanted to know for his mystery, but the one who didn’t want anyone near him. The one people gave up on because he was too difficult to approach.

               You had to have an in. And, Max supposed, Michael was his in.

               “Remember,” Michael was telling him as they left the truck. “His favorite song is Welcome to the Black Parade, don’t get him a beer until after his set, and whatever you do, do not insult Star Wars. He didn’t talk to Valenti for two days when he thought there were Jedis in Star Trek.”

               Max started to laugh, saw that Michael was watching him expectantly, and huffed. “Would you calm down? I’m the one who gets to worry here. There’s no way Alex will let me come within three feet of him.”

               “I already told you,” Michael said. “You have me. You just think about being your usual charming self –”

               “Is that supposed to be another joke?”

               “—And Alex will be happy to have you.”

               Michael stopped abruptly just as they reached the doors. He turned to Max and pointed a warning finger. “Just don’t kiss him.”

               Max blinked. “Excuse me?”

               “Don’t kiss him,” he repeated seriously. “That’s . . . it’s too far. He deserves to be kissed by someone who . . . really wants to kiss him.” He shook the thought out of his head. “Just – just don’t kiss him.”

               “I won’t kiss him,” Max held his hands up. “I don’t want to anyway.”

               “And don’t talk that way around him,” Michael grit out. “Anyone would be lucky to have Alex.”

               Max looked to the skies for aid. “Then you date him!”

               “I can’t,” was all Michael said, and tugged on Max’s arm. “Come on, you’ll do great.”

               The Wild Pony doors opened to chatter and cowboys and clanking drinks. Max heaved a sigh, tapping his fingers on his thigh. He could do this. He could do this.

               Michael patted his back and went on ahead. Max followed, thinking of what he’d say to Alex when he saw him.

               He considered, “What’s up?”, “How’s it hanging?”, “‘Sup, bro!”, and winced at himself. He needed more time to think of something, but he didn’t have any. He spotted Liz first, and Kyle and Alex beside her. Liz and Kyle were laughing about something, but Alex was focused on his music sheets, his fingers running over the keys as if making sure he knew the song by heart.

               Right then, Max realized what a terrible idea this was.

               “Michael,” he tried, reaching for his brother’s shoulder. “I – I think we should talk about this –”

               “Alex!” Michael called, and went ahead. Max was left stumbling behind him.

               Alex glanced up and smiled at the sight of Michael. “Hey! I saved you a seat up front!”

               Michael looked like he was going to wrap an arm around his shoulders like he usually did, then his smile dimmed and he cleared his throat, patting Alex’s arm in the end.

               “Duh, buddy,” he said. “What are friends for?”

               Alex glanced down for a fraction of a second before his smile returned and he pulled Michael to behind the keyboard to look at his song. It was like Max wasn’t there.

               Michael seemed to notice that, too. He raised his brows pointedly at Max, and Max cleared his throat, stepped forward, and said, “H-hey, Alex.”

               Alex looked up like he thought he heard someone talk to him, and his eyes met Max’s. His brows furrowed and he pressed his lips together, clearly confused as to why Michael’s brother was talking to him.

               “Hi,” he murmured. “So, Guerin, look at this, I used the lyrics you came up with yesterday.”

               “Uh –” Michael barely glanced at the page. “Hope you don’t mind that I brought Max,” he said, pulling Max forward. “He really wanted to hear you sing.”

               Alex narrowed his eyes at Max. “If he’s here to, like, make fun of me or something –”

               “No,” Max said at once. “No, I – I really do . . . like . . . music.”

               Alex stared a moment. Then he looked away, uncomfortable, and took Michael’s hand. He muttered, “Is he coming with us for ice cream after?”

               Michael chuckled and subtly removed his hand from Alex’s. Max could see the flash of hurt in Alex’s eyes before it was gone, and he thought he might’ve imagined it.

               “We’ll see,” Michael said, “about the ice cream, okay?”

               Alex scoffed and bumped their shoulders. “Yeah, okay. The day Michael Guerin says no to ice cream is the day Kyle Valenti gets into med school.”

               “Hey!” Kyle argued.

               “I’m kidding!” Alex laughed. “I knew you were listening in, you freak!”

               Kyle pulled Alex to him, and Michael kept laughing until he whipped around to face Max, then his smile fell away and he hissed, “Work with me here!”

               “I’m trying,” Max hissed back. “I am making him uncomfortable, Michael.”

               “He’s just not used to you talking to him,” he whispered. “Just – just – just . . . move in there!”

               He pushed Max forward, and Max nearly stumbled into Alex’s keyboard. Alex looked startled.

               “Max,” Liz blinked, “are you okay?”

               Kyle tilted his head. “You drunk already, dude?”

               “Uh . . .” Max started, and pointed at the keys. “I like your piano.”

               Alex raised a brow. “It’s actually not mine. It belongs to the bar.”

               “Oh.” Max nodded. “W-Well, you look really cool. I wish I could play the piano, so that’s – that’s really cool.”

               “Thanks?”

               “Can I – uh – can I buy you a beer? After your set?”

               His face burned as Alex stared. Then, while still watching Max apprehensively, Alex called, “Guerin?”

               Michael didn’t answer. Max turned to find that he’d started talking up the first blonde he’d found. Asshole, he thought, clearly looking for any excuse to leave him alone with his best friend.

               He looked back at Alex, and saw that he was watching Michael, too. His shoulders had fallen, and his brows pinched, but there was no surprise in his face. He was so used to Michael ignoring him when a better offer came along.

               He knew he should say something, though he didn’t know what. If Alex thought of Michael as nothing but a friend, this wouldn’t have hurt him.

               Liz then suddenly wrapped her arms around Alex’s waist, tighter and tighter until he burst into laughter. Kyle picked up the music sheets and complained why Alex never played any heavy metal.

               “You dress like you play it,” he said, “is all I’m saying!”

               They were clearly trying to distract him from whatever Michael was doing. Max scratched the back of his head, not knowing what to do himself.

               When the show started, Michael was already in his seat, pulling Max to sit down beside him. Liz clapped the loudest and Kyle offered a thumbs up. Michael kept his arms crossed, as if afraid anything he did would be taken the wrong way. Max could see Alex’s momentary confusion before Mimi DeLuca announced his song.

               Max was looking everywhere, namely at Liz, until Michael nudged his side with his elbow, and Alex started playing. As the first few notes fell together like a soothing waterfall, Max started. He looked to Alex, eyes wide. This was his music? He didn’t know why, but he’d imagined, like Kyle had teased, heavy metal or I-hate-everything ballads. But this . . .

               Not thirty seconds in, Max’s eyes had fallen shut.

               He had no idea how it had happened. One second, he was in a wooden chair at a bar where most of the crowd was laughing and talking over the music. The next, he found himself in a forest, surrounded by pine trees, with a clear lake behind him.

               When Alex started to sing – who knew he had such a smooth voice? – Max then felt the breeze of a desert night across his cheeks, the stars and full moon bright above, the rest of the world turned to peaceful quiet.

               The further along Alex got in his song, the more Max’s fingers itched to write. He couldn’t remember the last time ideas poured into his head like this, the last time he felt his heart swell with the anticipation of creating something.

               This was a song Alex had made up. Had he always had such talent? Max had never been to one of his gig’s before because he’d never been invited. Or he had, and he had been lost in the chattering crowd in the back, not paying attention.

               Now, he had to pay attention. He found it impossible to do anything else. When Alex finished, his friends and Michael stood to applaud. Liz screamed, Kyle whistled, and Michael looked prouder than Max had ever seen him of anybody. Max slowly did the same, staring.

               Alex looked red-faced, but his eyes shone brightly and he smiled widely, like even he could feel the emotion he’d just created. He stepped down, running a hand through his dark hair, and accepted the bottle of water from Kyle with a thanks.

               “Is it over?” he breathed after taking big gulps.

               “Yeah,” Kyle laughed, ruffling his hair and messing it up again. “It’s over, buddy.”

               “That’s my Alex,” Michael said before he could help it, and Max saw the blush deepen in Alex’s cheeks. Michael seemed to have realized his mistake, and handed a cold beer under the table to Max.

               Max hesitated, then held it out for Alex to take.

               Alex looked startled, but he was still smiling. “Thanks,” he murmured, accepting the bottle.

               “So,” Kyle drummed his hands on the table. “Ice cream to celebrate?”

               “Ice cream!” Liz yelled and Alex laughed. He turned to Michael.

               “Ice cream?”

               “Uh . . .” Michael looked over at the blonde he’d been flirting with. She waved to him from across the bar. Max saw the tick in his jaw, the way his fingers curled to fists under the table, and he knew that the last thing Michael wanted to do was cancel on Alex.

               Yet that was what he did.

               “Raincheck?” he said, and nudged his chin at the girl. “I think I’m about to live the Rockstar fantasy.”

               Liz frowned, disapproving. “But you’re not the Rockstar. Alex is.”

               “Well, the girls have to go somewhere,” he shrugged, already walking backwards. “If any guys show up, I’ll send ‘em your way, babe.”

               “O-Oh,” Alex’s brows pinched. “Okay . . .”

               “Max can take my place!” he offered, and turned his back to them. “See you tomorrow!”

               “Jackass,” Kyle muttered.

               Max opened his mouth to defend Michael, not knowing what he’d say exactly, when Alex said, “He’s just been really stressed out lately. He – he has all those honor classes. I think he should let off a little steam.”

               Liz did not look like she agreed. “Alex . . .”

               “It’s okay, really,” he said, then managed a smile that did not reach his eyes. “More for us, right?”

               Max stared. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

               “Of course I do,” Alex said simply, and looked at Michael’s retreating form with a forlorn look. “He’s my best friend.”

                 Alex seemed distracted. No matter how much Liz and Kyle tried to pull him into conversation, the best he could manage was a smile that even Max could tell was fake. Max felt kind of bad for him. He seemed to really be trying his best to cheer up, but every time a blonde girl or any straight couple passed, his mood dimmed again, like he couldn’t help but wonder what Michael was doing now.

               Not knowing what else to do, Max nudged his arm and asked the only question he could think to. “Did you really write that song you sang tonight?”

               Alex looked confused as to why Max would ask him anything, and he shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah.”

               Max shook his head. “That’s so cool,” he breathed. “It – I mean, it was really good.”

               Alex checked to make sure Liz and Kyle were too caught up with each other to hear them, then said, “Okay, what’s your deal, Evans? Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?”

               Max frowned. “I’ve always been nice to you.”

               Alex raised a skeptical brow. “You’ve always been polite. And that’s only because I’m friends with your brother. I know you’re as scared of me as everyone else.”

               “That’s not true!” Max said at once. “I’m scared of everyone!”

               Alex blinked, and Max realized too late what he’d said. He blushed and looked down, expecting to be laughed at. When he heard Alex huff an incredulous chuckle, he shut his eyes tight, humiliated.

               Then he said, “You? Mr. Perfect?”

               “I’m not perfect.”

               Alex scrunched his nose. Max was reminded of a kitten. “Aren’t you though? Tall, dark, and handsome,” he nudged his chin at the notebook poking out of Max’s back pocket. “And you write.”

               Max smirked. “But you’re all of those things.”

               Alex blinked, startled, and Max could’ve sworn he saw a pink tint across his cheeks. Maybe it was just too dark.

               Max cleared his throat and went on. “You should know then, better than anyone, that it doesn’t matter how good-looking you are. Sooner or later, some people just give up trying to get close to you.”

               “Is that what you’re doing?” Alex scoffed halfheartedly. “Trying to get close to me?”

               He wouldn’t look at Max as he said it, as if he was sure that was not what was going on. It made Max’s words come out more smoothly than he’d expected. “Yes. It is.”

               Alex stopped, surprised. Max also stopped and faced him. He could see Liz and Kyle stop out of the corner of his eyes, and prayed they couldn’t hear him.

               When he spoke, the lie left his lips with a little more trouble. “I like you, Alex. I – I always have. I’ve wanted to talk to you for years, but I . . . I’m not good at . . .” he gestured at his entire self, as if to say everything about him was an obstacle.

               “That’s why Michael brought me to the show tonight,” he said. “He knew I’ve wanted to talk to you forever. And I finally got to.”

               Alex stared, his expression unreadable. For a terrifying moment, Max wondered if he saw through the charade. Then he said, “You like me?”

               He said it more like a statement, a dare. Max could only nod once, gripping his notebook so tightly his knuckles turned white.

               Then he saw it. The doubt and suspicion behind Alex’s eyes. Alex sighed and kept walking. “Then let’s see how long,” he said, “until you give up, too.”

               *

               Max Evans stared. A lot.

               Alex was not new to people watching him. Everyone was usually curious about the youngest of the Manes brothers until they realized just how different and unapproachable Alex was, and then their curiosity’s limit showed.

               But the longer Max stared, the more curious he seemed to become. If he wasn’t glancing at Alex’s hair or eyeliner, he was looking at Alex’s bracelets, the rings on his fingers, the drawings on his shirt, his necklace, his nail polish.

               Alex felt like he was being studied. It was weird. He wished Michael was here to get Max to stop staring. He wished he could snap at Max to look away, but the guy was like a walking cinnamon roll. It was impossible to get angry at him without feeling bad.

               When Alex ordered his Neapolitan ice cream, Max not only insisted on paying for it, but offered a spoon of his own lemon sherbet cup for Alex to try.

               “Don’t you have, like, hundreds of other friends you could be spending Friday night with?” Alex finally asked.

               “Just my brother and sister,” Max confessed, picking at his sorbet. “Hey, since it’s Saturday tomorrow, y-you want to do something?” Then, as if it was an afterthought, added, “Together.”

               “No,” Alex grumbled around his spoon.

               “Why not?”

               “Because I always spend Saturdays with Michael,” he said, and immediately longed for Michael again. He wondered if he was having a lot more fun than Alex was right now. He tried not to think any harder about where Michael might be.

               “Oh,” Max said quietly. Alex glanced at him and saw that he was awkwardly tipping the melted part of his sherbet into his mouth. His lips twitched before he quickly schooled his features.

               He thought that would be the end of that conversation, but then Max asked, “If he cancels, you wanna do something?”

               Alex frowned. “Why would you think he’d cancel?”

               “Just . . .” he shrugged. “He kinda does what he wants, you know?”

               “Michael never cancels on me,” Alex bit back.

               He nodded, but wouldn’t look at Alex again. “Sorry.”

               Alex faltered. There it was, that guilt again. Saturdays belonged to him and Michael. He didn’t want anyone else coming along. He continued quietly eating his ice cream. At least maybe now Max would know to give up this ridiculous chase.

               “Well, maybe Sunday then?”

               Alex blinked and looked up. “W-What?”

               Max was smiling nervously, swirling the contents of his sherbet. “There’s – well, there’s this museum for fine art pieces. I – I heard it’s really cool, I’ve been meaning to go, but Isobel and Michael don’t really . . . like paintings and sculptures.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I know you must not either, I – I don’t know why I thought you would –”

               “Paintings?” Alex couldn’t help but ask. “Like Potthast? And Einaudi?”

               Max blinked. “Y-You know about them?”

               “I mean,” Alex scrunched his shoulders. “I’m not an idiot. I love any artist who pours themselves into their work. It’s” – he blushed – “inspiring.”

               Max perked up. “Right?! I’d do anything to be a writer, you know? Seeing people love something as much as I love books, it kind of makes me feel like . . .”

               “Like it all has to mean something,” Alex finished, smiling to himself. “I can’t love it this much for nothing.”

               Max huffed a laugh. He looked surprised, his cheeks tinted pink. “Yeah! Yeah, exactly . . .”

               Neither of them said anything for the next minute. Alex rubbed the sole of his shoe against the pavement and cleared his throat.

               “I mean,” he finally said, “I guess . . . if I’m really not doing anything Sunday . . . I can come. B-But only if Michael’s coming, too! I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

               Max didn’t say anything, and Alex chanced a glance at him to see he had a small smile.

               “What?” he demanded. “I said I’d – I’d come. M-Maybe!”

               Max nodded. “Er – can I have your number?”

               Don’t do it, Alex thought. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. Max was just a stranger.

               But he’s not a complete stranger, he reminded himself. He was Michael’s brother, and if Michael was letting him get this close to their tight little group, then he must’ve trusted that Alex was safe around him. And he could trust Michael more than anyone to look after him. He knew he could.

               “Yeah,” he said, handing Max his phone without looking at him. He saw Liz and Kyle watch him from across the street where they were twirling around a lamppost. They were tilting their heads and smirking, like they knew something he didn’t.

               Alex cleared his throat, and, as if his friends could hear him, added in a mutter, “Whatever.”

               Even Max smiled at that.

               *

               The next morning, Max woke to knocking on his window. He saw Michael and leapt out of bed, letting him in.

               “Can’t you knock like a normal person?”

               “Didn’t want to wake anyone else up,” he said. He smelled like he’d spent all of last night drinking, but his curls were wild, like he’d walked for hours in the desert instead of lying in someone’s bed.

               He nudged Max aside and sat cross-legged on his bed, shoes and all. “Tell me about Alex,” he said. “How’d last night go?”

               Max put his pillows up and slumped against them. “Fine. Good. Okay, I guess. He was mostly quiet the whole time. Did you have to blow him off like that?”

               Michael looked down and clenched his jaw. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbled. “I hated not being there. The whole time she was talking in my ear, I was trying not to get her to gag on me. I almost called Alex like fifty times!”

               He shook his head, as if eager to be rid of the memory. “Forget me. So he didn’t say anything the entire night?”

               “No,” Max said. “He did. I got him talking about music and other artists and stuff. I even asked him out to the museum today, just like you said.”

               Michael clapped him on the shoulder, happy. “Yeah? Max Evans, you sly dog!”

               Max couldn’t share in his enthusiasm. Would Michael have been so happy if he’d seen the look on Alex’s face last night? The way he defended him even when it was clear that his own heart was breaking?

               “Yeah,” Max said, rubbing his eye. “Said no.”

               “Well,” Michael shrugged a shoulder, “it’s not like he was going to fall in love with you in a few hours.”

               “Actually,” Max said, “he said he might be able to come tomorrow. He can’t today because you guys usually hang out on Saturdays.”

               Michael raised a brow. “Oh yeah?” He hummed, studying the blanket. After a long few minutes, he said, “I might . . . just call him and –”

               “Er –” Max cut him off, “he was pretty adamant that you would never cancel on him. Even after . . . you kind of already did.”

               Michael’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away. He muttered, “Yeah?”

               “Yeah, Michael,” Max sighed. “Look, can’t you just talk to him about this? It looks like he really cares about you, I’m sure if you told him what you heard –”

               “He’d hate me,” Michael said. “Imagine finding out that the one person you like knows you like them, and it makes them uncomfortable. Would you ever be able to look them in the face again?”

               Max pressed the heel of his palm into his eye. “And you’re sure you don’t like Alex like that? At all?”

               Michael looked up, holding his brother’s gaze. Max had never seen him so fierce. “I can’t date him, Max.”

               “Why not?” Max said. “You don’t think your relationship would survive a breakup?”

               “I can’t risk it,” he said. “I won’t.”

               Max almost pointed out that that wasn’t an answer, but decided not to. “Fine, well,” he laid back down and turned his back to Michael, trying to fall asleep again. “He’s not going anywhere with me on a Saturday, so see you tomorrow.”

               Michael did not leave, or say anything for a good long while. Then Max heard shuffling, and tapping. He peeked an eye open and saw Michael texting. Immediately, the look on Alex’s face last night hit him and he sat up.

               “What’re you doing?” he demanded, reaching for Michael’s phone. Michael kept himself out of reach. “Michael, I told you, if you cancel –”

               “I’m not canceling,” Michael murmured, brows pinched. “Just texting someone.” His finger hovered over the screen a moment before he hit send. “There,” he said, pocketing his phone. He didn’t look any happier than he’d been seconds ago. “Now Alex will be the one asking you out.”

               Max’s shoulders slumped. “What’d you do?”

               Michael didn’t answer, but the guilt on his face said it all. He was about to break Alex’s heart.

               *

               Alex had woken early. Last night he’d climbed through his window to his father banging on his door. He’d managed to sneak under the covers and play asleep the second Jesse had burst through, but he knew his luck wouldn’t last.

               It hadn’t mattered, because there was nothing that was going to keep him from an entire day with Michael. So he’d risen early, forgotten about breakfast at the risk of running into his father and being trapped inside again, and just had water from the hydro flask he kept by his bed – he didn’t care, he would eat later with Michael. He’d thrown on his favorite skull and crossbones t-shirt, his silver skull choker, and his rings.

               He felt silly fixing his hair in the mirror, running his hand through it so that the strands looked windswept. It wasn’t hard, as his hair rarely stayed down neatly. He’d learned to live with it.

               Michael wouldn’t ever like him like he liked girls, he knew that, but maybe . . . maybe some part of him might find Alex attractive. Maybe he might look at him differently without realizing that he was looking at him differently.

               It was dumb, but he could hope.

               At least, he had hoped until Michael met him in front of their favorite coffeeshop with his arm around Maria DeLuca’s shoulders. Alex had been holding two coffees, a caramel macchiato for him and a mocha for Michael, because he loved chocolate. He’d nearly dropped them at the sight.

               “Hey!” Michael called.

               “Uh – hey, Alex,” Maria smiled awkwardly. “Guerin,” she said, “I thought we were hanging out today.”

               “We are!” Michael smiled widely, taking his coffee and handing it to her. “With Alex! I always spend Saturdays with Alex.”

               “B-But . . .” Alex looked between them. He could feel his heart slowly sinking into his stomach. He pressed his lips together in a quick smile to Maria and tugged Michael aside by his sleeve. “What’s going on?” he whispered. “We always spend Saturdays together.”

               Michael tilted his head. “We are together.”

               “Alone,” Alex insisted. “Just you and me, remember? We’ve never invited anyone else. And . . . Guerin, Maria?”

               Michael laughed. He was laughing far too easily, and smiling way too much. He knew that of all people, bringing Maria would be a real sting. Didn’t he care about how Alex felt? And today of all days?

               “Come on, Alex,” he said. “I’m just trying to have a little fun here.”

               Alex felt like he’d just been slapped. “S-So being with me isn’t fun?”

               Michael rolled his eyes like he thought Alex was messing around. Alex, horrifically, thought he might cry.

               “Am I supposed to turn down a hot girl for you?” he said, taking Alex’s coffee and having a sip. “Seriously, so Maria’s coming. What’s the big deal, right? I mean, it’s not like we’re dating.”

               He reached out to pat Alex’s shoulder, but Alex flinched back, away from his touch. For a split second, Michael’s face fell and he looked mortified. But it was gone so quickly that Alex was sure he must’ve imagined it.

               He felt guilty, and dramatic, and pathetic. He felt cast aside, unwanted. All of that was okay, he was used to it. Maybe not from Michael, never from Michael, but he was used to it.

               So he did what he always did when he was reminded just how worthless he was. He forced his chin up, exhaled shakily, and kept his words steady. “I actually just remembered that Max wanted to go to a museum thing today.”

               Michael was still smiling. It felt wrong, but Alex couldn’t look at him too long to read into it. “Oh yeah?”

               “Yeah,” Alex took another few steps back. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to be away from Michael, but at this moment nowhere felt far away enough. “He sounded like he really wanted me to go with him, but I had to say no because of today.” He moved further away. “I really wanted to go, too, to be honest. It sounded cool.”

               “Yeah?” Michael sounded quieter. Maybe that was just because of the distance between them.

               “So if you’re going to hang out with someone else, then I guess it’s okay if I go, too?”

               Michael didn’t answer for a minute. “Yeah. No, yeah, that’s great. Works out for both of us, huh?”

               Alex turned around so Michael didn’t see his face fall. “Yeah,” he said, and began walking away. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

               Before Michael could say anything else, Alex pulled out his phone. He wouldn’t dial until he rounded the corner and was out of Michael’s sight. He fell back against the wall, his legs giving out under him. He held the phone to his forehead, breathing deeply.

               Kyle, he knew, was on a camping trip for the weekend with his dad. Liz was busy working shifts at the Crashdown.

               It’s okay, Alex told himself. It’s okay. You don’t need anybody. It’s okay.

               He may not have needed anyone, but he didn’t want to be alone today. So he dialed Max’s name, and held the phone to his ear.

               It rung twice, then Max answered. “Alex?” There was hesitation in his voice that made Alex blush. Was he not actually expecting Alex to call?

               “Er – hey,” Alex murmured, and rubbed his face with one hand. “Look, t-turns out I’m free today after all . . . If you . . . still want to go to the museum . . .”

               Max didn’t answer for a long few seconds.

               “O-Or not,” he said quickly, “doesn’t really matter to me, I just thought –”

               “Yeah!” Max said, “Yeah, I’m – sorry, I was changing. I’m ready to go when you are! Where do you want me to meet you?”

               Alex’s shoulders slumped. He felt a strange relief trickling through his chest, but it didn’t ease the weight on his heart. He muttered, “Wherever you want. Just text me the address.”

               He waited for Max’s okay, then hung up. He rested his chin on his knees as he waited for the message to come in, closing his eyes and promising himself that he would not cry.

                 Max didn’t live in a house. He lived in a mansion. The two story villa stretched out over a valley of cacti and desert flowers, the windows long and the front doors big enough to fit ten grown men standing side by side. Michael had once told Alex how he’d sneak in through his brother and sister’s windows, and Alex now had to wonder how.

               No sooner had he gotten to the door than Max came stumbling out, a bag thrown over his shoulder.

               “Hey,” he panted, “let’s go.”

               Without waiting for Alex’s greeting, he bodily turned Alex around and nudged him back toward the road. Alex was not new to being hidden away by boys who’d rather their parents not see him, but he’d already had his plans with Michael ruined, and was in no mood to humor any homophobia.

               “What?” he sighed. “Afraid mommy and daddy will know you asked out a guy?”

               Max blinked, surprised. He stopped. “What’re you talking about? I’m not trying to hide you from my parents.” He looked over his shoulder as if remembering they were supposed to be in a hurry, and frog-marched Alex away again.

               “Oh?” Alex rolled his eyes. He tried to ground his heels to make it harder for Max but had no will to do it. He was tired, but anything was better than spending the day curled up in bed, abandoned and pitiful. “The who are we trying to hide from?”

               “My . . . crap . . .” Max trailed off, and, following his gaze, Alex understood why. At the end of the road, her arms crossed, her purse hanging off one elbow, was Isobel Evans. She did not look happy.

               “Sneaking off?” she demanded. “Who do you think you are? Michael?”

               “Isobel,” Max warned. “Not now.”

               “Did you honestly think you could hide your date?” Isobel narrowed her eyes at Alex. “Huh. You weren’t kidding. It really is Alex Manes.” She reached a hand towards his face. “You were right, he is very pretty –”

               “Isobel,” Max slid in between Alex and Isobel, forbidding her from touching him. “I never said that.” Then to Alex, “I never said that. N-Not that you’re not – I mean, clearly you are –”

               He shook his head, and turned back to Isobel, his jaw clenched. “I’m not kidding, leave us alone.”

               Isobel was relentless, tilting her head over her brother’s shoulder, since she was almost as tall as he was. “Oh, what do you think I’m going to do, Max? Get out of the way, let me look at him!”

               “Alex,” Max said, his wary eyes on his sister, “I am so sorry about this.”

               “Sorry about what?” she demanded. “I didn’t do anything! Get out of the way, Max! Do you have any idea how rare it is to get a look at him this up close?!”

               “He’s not an octopus, Isobel!”

               “It’s a compliment!” She told Alex, “It’s a compliment, it means you’re really cute.”

               “We have to go,” Max insisted, fending off his sister’s reaching hands. “We have a thing at the museum and –”

                “What museum? Why didn’t you invite me? I want to come with you!”

               “NO!”

               “Why not?”

               “Because you’ll make it weird!”

               “What does that even mean? Scared I’ll embarrass you in front of your new boyfriend?”

               “Isobel!”

               Watching them, Alex should’ve been annoyed. But Max was being gentle with his sister, and Isobel’s eyes were so genuine that Alex could tell her curiosity was innocent and eager. There didn’t seem to be a malicious bone in either of their bodies.

               Crouching behind a building just half an hour ago, Alex had not thought he’d be able to smile for the rest of the day. Now, a giggle escaped his lips before he could help it.

               Max and Isobel stopped and stared, wide eyed. Max’s cheeks were tinted pink. Alex pretended not to notice.

               “Isobel,” he said wearily, “you want to come with us?”

               Isobel looked momentarily surprised, then pleased, a satisfied grin stretching across her pink lips. She lightly shouldered her way past Max and hooked her arm around Alex’s.

               “I like him,” Isobel said cheerfully, and pulled Alex down the road. Alex looked over his shoulder at Max, who blinked out of his haze and ran to catch up to them.

               “Why would you invite her?” Max murmured.

               Alex took one look at Isobel and smiled, something about her radiant demeanor an interesting contrast to the darkness he lived in. Maybe it was having a writer with him, maybe it was that he was kind of a writer himself, but he thought there was a fascinating story here between the three of them.

               To Max, however, he merely shrugged a shoulder and smirked.

               “Come on, Evans,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to think this was a date.”

               Max again blushed, and Alex again pretended not to notice.

Ahhhh here it is!!! Finally!!!

I know only three to four people may enjoy this, but I wrote it mostly for me, so my expectations are low. Or, I should say, that’s how I’m trying to keep them. Don’t ask me how long until the next chapter comes up, this is just supposed to be fun. Any questions about updates shall be ignored.

That said, if you did enjoy it, comment! Tell me what you liked, if it was funny, angsty, if it’s not your kind of thing but you decided to give it a chance anyway - I love that stuff. And share/reblog. You may not have liked it, but maybe someone else really will!

#alex manes #max evans #sheriff manes #max x alex #sheriff manes fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #sheriff manes fanfic #sheriff manes fanfiction #tyler blackburn #nathan dean parsons

[birthdaysentiment]

Imagine robbe showing up at sanders and sander is in a plaid skirt, in the middle of putting some kickass eye makeup on his face and robbes just like "fucK"

well anon... that's definitely a look. idk about the plaid skirt tbh (idk if that’s something i can see sander wear), even though he could and would definitely rock that. but idk... imagine sander doing an art project for school, where the task is to take pictures of yourself (self portrays), but in different roles (like both in looks but also emotion wise and stuff like that... idk i don't go to art school lol). sander always love playing around with makeup, whether it’s on himself, his friends... or robbe who is his favorite person to put make-up on even though robbe isn't always the biggest fan of it, unless it's a little blush on his cheek, so he can bring them out, and because he knows sander loves it too... so this tasks is definitely one of the more fun and creative ones

for this project sander thinks about putting on some eyeliner, a thick black line under his eyes, maybe with a little stretch at the end to bring out the shape. he puts it on one eye, takes a step back to look at himself, smirking and thinking it's not looking bad. as he gets closer to the mirror to finish of the other eye, he sees robbe in the mirror reflection... jaw dropped, his brown eyes bigger than usual muttering a quite "... fock", because sander is definitely a view, standing there in front of the mirror... shirtless just in his black skinny jeans, his hair a little longer, fluffier and more... messed like he has been running his hands through it multiple times in order to get it just right... to complete the look

sander can't help but smile (and smirk) at his boyfriend's reaction. he just keeps his focus on putting the line under his other eye, making eye contact with robbe in the mirror as he says "you like what you're seeing cutie?", which seems to snap robbe out of it... since he was a little hung up about sander's lean, but fit upper body (who can blame him though). they don't say much after that, robbe just observes sander while he talks about his idea for the project and puts the finishing touches on his look

when he's pleased with himself, and his killer eye makeup he turns around to let robbe give his opinion too. he doesn't say much, because the look he's giving sander is already the confirmation enough that sander looks... unreal and too attractive on a sunday afternoon. he walks up to sander with a clear intention to kiss the hell out of him, but sander only allows a small peck (even though he obviously wants more), because his look is too precious to get smushed during a rather heavy make out session, which it will probably leave too. but sander can't help but feel his knees weaken under him because of the way robbe looks at him, like he's the only person in the world for robbe, like robbe only has eyes for sander, and sander only. and yeah... sander can't help but smile a little because of that, he just loves that doe eyed boy of his

the air between them is rather... hot, so to try and cool it of a little, sander takes robbe's hands in his, places a small kiss on his cheek (that might... or might not have a little splash of golden rose blush on it) and asks if robbe will paint his nails black, because that would definitely complete the look, and because he enjoys looking at robbe being all concentrated while he does it, with his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. and of course robbe says yes, he would never turn down the opportunity to spend time with sander... ever. so yeah that's how they’ll spend that sunday

lol idk what this is (gonna go hide now), but there's been so much talk about sander wearing nail polish and eyeliner, so blame this on that lol. but yeah... idk enjoy this (or not), i guess xx

#cille's asks #cille's random sobbe thoughts #another essay no one asked for

[nbrook29]

I was so pissed off that I went and wrote a sobbe Halloween fic and it's the fastest thing I've written so I guess anger really inspires me. I hope it's not gonna be a huge fucking disappointment like wtfock was tonight.

(The "read more" thingy is still not working so I'm sorry for a long post.)

*takes place in a world without corona*

Robbe is strolling through the crowd, squinting against the flashing lights to find a familiar face but it's so dark his attempts have been fruitless so far. He thinks he can see Jens in the corner on his left making out with some dark figure with short curly hair but it's really hard to tell.

He went to the bathroom for just few minutes but there are so many people here he's totally lost now. Robbe doesn't know the majority of them, the crowd consisting of not only his friends but also what looks like his entire school, Senne's old and new friends, and half of the Academia. The place is packed even though it's quite big, and he hopelessly keeps looking around to locate his friends.

Suddenly, a strong hand grabs his hip and he feels warm lips trailing down his neck and he would freak out if it wasn't for the smell of cologne he's so familiar with. He turns around and the first thing he sees is a red lighting bolt that's momentarily lit by the flashing lights, just a tiny bit smudged around the edges in some places, but still looking fucking perfect.

"Hey cutie," Sander leans down to nudge their noses together, "For a moment there I thought you were kidnapped or something." His breath is hot on Robbe's lips as he teasingly keeps their mouths apart, smirking at the effect he has on him.

Robbe loops his arms around his neck and Sander's hands instantly find their way to his hips, pushing them even closer together and swaying them to the rhythm of the song blasting through the speakers.

"Was looking for you, actually," he screams into his ear trying to make himself heard despite the loud music before tangling his fingers into the dark strands and plunging his tongue into Sander's mouth. He feels so good tonight, having so much fun, his inhibitions flying out the window around 30 minutes ago making him enjoy a hot make out session with his boyfriend without paying attention to his surroundings. Sander gives as good as he gets, the kiss turning dirtier with each second, one of his hand landing in Robbe's hair while the other makes its way to the small of his back, grazing the skin underneath his shirt. Robbe feels boneless, the mixture of a good party and Sander making his mind just shut down, the lights and the music making everything so much more intense.

And that costume.

That fucking costume.

Robbe is pretty sure he was drooling when he opened the door to his house and his eyes were met with the image of Sander dressed up as Bowie leaning casually in his doorstep, feigning innocence at the wide-eyed look in Robbe's eyes.

He's brought back to reality when he feels a tug to his hair and the whine he lets out would embarrass him if he actually cared about anything but this perfect boy tonight. Sander breaks their kiss at the sound and Robbe needs to blink several times to get rid of the fog currently occupying his mind.

"You're okay over there?" he asks, his teeth pulling gently at Robbe's bottom lip and pecking it several times like it's physically painful for him not to.

Robbe nods, his hands cupping Sander's check, mindful of his makeup.

"You're just look so fucking hot tonight, it's making me crazy," he admits shamelessly, his thumb swiping gently under his hooded eyes and smudging his smoky eyeshadow some more. In his humble opinion, from now on Sander should wear eyeliner everyday cause if you look so good in something it's a crime not to grace the rest of the common people with your absolute stunningness.

Sander laughs at his confession, a glint of shyness passing through his eyes. "I'm glad you like it so much. But for the record, you're making me crazy all the time."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sander rests his forehead on Robbe's, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "And you drove me so crazy last year when you were eye-fucking me from across the room while making out with your girlfriend," he breaths against his mouth and there's a hint of possessiveness in his voice that makes Robbe shiver.

"You were doing the same thing to me, you think I didn't notice how much you were showing off, basically tongue fucking Britt on that dancefloor?" Their mouths are so close right now but they're both keep teasing each other, grazing their lips but restraining themselves from actually kissing. "I wanted to be her so bad, you know?"

Sander doesn't waste another second before finally catching his lips in a kiss that feels like everything Robbe desired last Halloween. They're both slowly losing control, hands trailing all over each other's bodies, and there's a voice at the back of his head telling him that they need to get out of here asap.

Thankfully, Sander seems to be thinking the same thing as he lowers his lips to Robbe's ear, his hand steady on his neck.

"How about we go to my place and I'm gonna show you exactly how much I wanted it to be you I was kissing that night, what do you say?"

Robbe nods, probably with a bit too much eagerness but Sander just wiggles his eyebrows before intertwining their fingers together and dragging him to the exit. Once they're outside, a cold air hits Robbe's body, a pleasent contrast to the hot temperature inside. Sander orders them an uber and after merely a minute they can see the car at the end of the street. When it stops in front of them, Robbe turns Sander's head towards him and rises on his tiptoes to whisper hotly in his ear.

"The make-up stays on."

Sander's jaw drops comically and Robbe winks at him, tongue in cheek, before climbing into the car pleased with himself.

#wtfock

[emy-loves-you]

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 2: College

Virgil and Logan have a series of flirty interactions before realizing that they’re roommates.

Logan POV, Analogical with background Royality and familial Logicality.

Day 1 | Masterlist | Day 3

Logan felt extremely stereotypical as he drank from his red solo cup. According to the clock on the wall, it was currently 11:27 PM and Logan was ready to go home. He silently cursed out his brother for dragging him to this party. Patton could have asked his boyfriend to take him, but he wanted Logan to get out of the house. Logan watched as Patton and Roman made out on the other side of the room. He took a bigger swig from his cup and winced. Cheap booze. Logan wished that the other highschoolers here could swindle some better alcohol. Logan steeled himself before downing the rest of the cup. He needed a distraction from his boredom (and his brother making out with Roman Prince).

Logan swiftly stood up, frowning as he stumbled a bit. Logan had assumed that his tolerance level was higher than this. He’s only had… three? Four? Drinks. Logan should go get another drink. Logan quickly made his way to the kitchen, ignoring the other teens he passed on the way there. This house was pretty big, with multiple bedrooms for teens to have fun in. Logan eventually found the kitchen, wincing slightly at how bright the room was. There seemed to be only one person- oh.

Sitting on the counter was the most gorgeous man Logan had ever seen. Logan vaguely recognized him from the football games he attended with Patton. The teen usually manned the concession stand, wearing his overly large hoodie and dark eyeshadow. With his alcohol-fueled brain, Logan wasn’t shy to admit that he’d been crushing on the teen for a while. Tonight his crush wore a tight-fitting MCR shirt and equally tight jeans. His makeup was much more complex, complete with winged eyeliner and black lipstick. Logan suddenly felt hot all over as he moved forward to grab another drink. The sinfully attractive man just then seemed to notice Logan’s presence, swaying slightly on the counter.

“Hey, I know you!” The man slurred out. He appeared to be just as intoxicated as Logan was. “You’re the cute kid that orders cookies and water at every football game!”

Logan blushed, surprised that he remembered Logan’s face, much less his order. He then realized the first half of the sentence. “You think I’m cute?” He asked, internally frowning at the way his voice slurred.

The hot guy (who Logan was mentally dubbing ‘hottie’ from here on out. It’s not like anyone could read his thoughts) smirked. “You’re more than cute. You’re hot as shit, man.” The man giggled. “I’ve been crushing on you for a long time.”

Logan’s drunk-self couldn’t help but repeating the sentiment. “I’ve also harbored a crush on you.” They both giggled like schoolgirls at the thought, both too intoxicated to fully grasp the implications.

Hottie suddenly hopped off the counter, grabbing Logan by the hand. “C’mon.”

Logan let himself be pulled along until they reached the front door. “Where are we going?” Logan felt like he was forgetting something important. Did he have his phone? Yes, it was in Logan’s back pocket. Then what was he forgetting? It must not be important.

Hottie smiled as he led Logan across the street. “My house.” He led Logan to the front door, only letting go of his hand to unlock the door. “My parents are on vacation, so the house is empty. We just graduated and we both like each other so I thought-”

Hottie didn’t quite state what he was planning for them to do that night. It might have been because Logan chose that moment to press his lips against Hottie’s. Or that Hottie’s back was immediately pressed against the wall. Or maybe he was just too busy trying to get Logan’s shirt off.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Logan groaned as he woke up, ignoring the need to open his eyes. His head felt like it would split in two. What happened last night? Logan struggled to pick out the details. Patton forced me to go to a party. He and Roman were… occupied. I went to get another drink and found that hot guy I’ve had a crush on for a while. I confessed my feelings and we went to his house- HIS HOUSE?!

Logan forced his eyes open, suddenly realizing that he wasn’t in his own bedroom. While it was difficult to see without his glasses, Logan could still make out the majority of the room. The whole room was a strange yet aesthetically pleasing combination of charcoal grey and purple. The bedroom was sparse, with multiple cardboard boxes stacked in the corner of the room. Logan’s crush (was crush an appropriate term for someone you’ve already had sex with?) was sitting on the other end of the bed, writing something in his notebook. Logan was suddenly aware of the fact that he was naked underneath the thick comforter on top of him. He went through the mental crisis of what the hell should I do for a few minutes before the man looked up.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake.” The teen shuffled around before holding something out. Logan held his hand out and was slightly surprised to feel his glasses being set gently onto his palm. Logan quickly put on his glasses and watched as his crush played with his hoodie strings. It was very odd to see him like this. On one hand, he wasn’t acting like the antisocial yet terrifying teenager that he was at football games. On the other hand, he wasn’t the suave, confident young man that Logan met last night. He was… shy, and quiet (and, though Logan would never admit it… he was cute, in a soft way).

Logan felt his blush rise as the guy handed him his clothes. They were clean and folded, with not a wrinkle in sight. How long has he been up for? And how long have I been asleep? Logan watched as the man gestured towards the bathroom and walked out of the room. Logan quickly stepped into the bathroom and changed, ignoring the heavy nausea he felt from his hangover. He then made his way out of the room, making his way to the kitchen. His crush was sitting on the counter, his phone in one hand and an unopened bottle of water in the other. Logan’s phone sat on the counter next to him, connected to a charger. The man offered Logan the water, which he accepted gratefully, chugging half the bottle before using the cool bottle as an icepack for his headache. His crush winced at the action. “Sorry, we don’t have any painkillers around. Trust me, I checked.”

Logan offered a small smile. “I believe you.” He turned towards his phone and was unsurprised to see over 50 missed calls from Patton. “I’ll need to be leaving soon.” The man tensed up. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed. “Look, I know we went through some mushy shit last night, but… I’m moving away in a few weeks. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could handle anything long-distance. But I didn’t mean to bring you here for a one-night stand. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve been crushing on you for a while now.”

Logan nodded. “I am also leaving for college in a few weeks. There are extremely low chances of the two of us meeting again. While I also harbor feelings towards you, I do not fancy a long distance relationship.”

They sat there in silence while Logan texted Patton. Logan left out the majority of the details, just stating that he was unharmed and that he was across the street from the party. Patton replied that he would be there in 20 minutes.

“Hey.” Logan looked up, and his crush immediately looked down at his feet. “If we ever meet again… you know, after we’ve moved and stuff… do you think we could give this a chance?”

Logan smiled. “If we somehow meet again in the future, I would thoroughly enjoy being in a relationship with you.”

They sat there for a few minutes before he smirked. “Wanna make out until your ride gets here?”

Logan leaned forward to kiss him. “Yes please.”

---------------------------------------------------

Logan sighed as he finished transferring his belongings from his car to his dorm room. Luckily his roommate wasn’t there yet, so they couldn’t see him exhausted from going up and down the stairs a dozen times. If he was here, maybe this whole thing would’ve been more bearable, but-

Logan shook his head. It’s been three months since the party, and he was probably on the other side of the country. Logan still feels like kicking himself for not getting the guy’s name or phone number. But by the time he thought of that, his crush had already moved away. But even after three months of no contact, Logan couldn’t get him out of his head. He’d fallen hard, and every night after was filled with dreams that would never happen. Kisses that never occurred, words that were never said, smiles and secrets that were never shared. God, Logan would do just about anything to have one more night with the guy. Instead, he was almost 1,000 miles away from his hometown, sharing his room with a stranger and wishing for a nameless cute guy more than he wished for his own brother.

Once everything was arranged accordingly, Logan decided to go and get some coffee. While he technically had a coffee maker in his room, Logan wanted to stretch his legs and familiarize himself with his new environment (it had nothing to do with getting thoughts of his crush out of his head, that would be preposterous). Logan made his way out of the college dorm, already dreading the walks from his dorm to his classes. The campus was larger than anything in Logan’s hometown. It took 20 minutes to reach the edge of campus, and another 15 to find a decent coffee shop. Sure, it looked like a cheap rip-off of Starbucks, but it had good reviews online so Logan was willing to give it a try.

Logan opened the front door, unsurprised to hear a small bell go off at the action. What he was surprised by was the familiar voice at the counter.

“Hello, welcome to the Coffee Castle, how may I help you?” Logan looked up just as he did, and they made eye contact over the counter. Logan’s face went red as he turned around and yelled towards the back room. “Taking my break now!”

Another voice answered back. “But I thought you were servin’ a customa?”

He blushed. “He can buy a coffee later, I gotta talk to him first. Personal stuff.”

The voice laughed. “Go gettum, V!”

V. While it wasn’t a full name, it was a much better substitute for him. V hung up his apron before dragging Logan towards the back of the coffee shop. There was a storage closet just big enough for the two of them as they slipped inside.

V smiled as he turned on the light. “Hey.”

Logan blushed. “Hello. It is very… nice, to see you again.”

V smirked. “Look, I’ve only got 10 minutes before I’ve gotta go back up to the counter. Wanna make out until then?”

Logan immediately pressed forward for a kiss. “That would be amenable.” He whispered under his breath.

Time always felt slower around V. Back when V worked the high school concession stand, a five-minute conversation felt like hours of invigorating debates. That night spent with V felt like years of drunken confessions and passionate moments. And the 8 minutes they spent making out in this closet felt like an entire lifetime of love. Every kiss was a promise for more, every sigh was a confession that didn’t need verbalization to be understood. Logan was not well-versed with recognizing and acting on emotions, but after the lifetime he was feeling in this moment, he realized that he would trade almost anything to spend an actual lifetime with V.

They eventually stopped kissing and just stood there for a moment, pressing their foreheads together in some vague form of reassurance. Logan wished that this moment of serenity would last forever, but that was not meant to be. V pulled back and blushed, looking down at his feet. “I know we both said we would give us a chance if we met again, but do you still mean it?”

Logan nodded. “Do you?”

V smiled, leaning in to kiss Logan’s nose. “I wouldn’t have pulled you into this closet if I didn’t.”

They stood there for a few moments before Logan coughed awkwardly. “Could I get your phone number? I really don’t want to go through the trouble of trying to find you again.”

V laughed. “Yeah, that makes sense.” V typed his number into Logan’s phone before sighing. “I need to get back to work.”

Logan frowned. “Alright. Will you be here tomorrow?”

Virgil smirked. “No, but I can be here if someone wants to go on a coffee date.”

Logan blushed. “That sounds acceptable. Is 1 PM a good time for you.”

Virgil smiled. “Sounds perfect.” He gave Logan one more peck on the lips before opening the closet door. “See you then.”

Logan was a blushing mess for the rest of the day. Patton had decided to call him soon after Logan left the cafe, and he squealed when Logan told him of his encounter with V. Patton then spent the next 20 minutes telling Logan what he should wear for his date tomorrow. That’s when Logan realized that holy shit I have a DATE tomorrow. He spent the rest of the day at the local library, trying to find anything on date etiquette (or just how to hold a proper conversation). After promising to tell Patton about how his date goes, he reads several philosophy books to try and calm down. By the time the library closed, Logan was feeling slightly less flustered and collected enough to meet his new roommate. Logan knew nothing but the man’s name, so it was difficult to judge whether or not this interaction would go smoothly.

Logan approached his dorm once again, feeling a nervous twist in his abdomen. First impressions meant alot to most people; would Logan’s roommate be upset that Logan wasn’t there all day? While Logan wasn’t interested in being friends with his new roommate, it would be helpful to keep a polite relationship with the person he was going to live with for the next few months.

Logan quickly entered the dorm, finding his roommate lying on the floor, eating a bag of chips. Logan cringed as the crumbs got into the carpet, but attempted to be civil nonetheless. “Hello, you must be Virgil Storm. I am your roommate, Logan-”

Logan didn’t get to finish his introduction before the man burped loudly and sat up. “Oh, I’m not Virgil.” He used his tongue to get the leftover crumbs out of his mustache. “Remus Prince, at your service!”

Logan cringed again, suddenly recognizing the man’s face. While he didn’t go to the same highschool as Logan, his resemblance was impossible to miss. “Ah, I remember now. We’ve met a few times before this, if I’m remembering correctly. You’re Roman’s twin brother, correct?”

Remus’ eyes went wide. “Yep, and your Patty’s big bro, right? My, what a small world!”

Logan couldn’t help but smile at that. “Yes, what a small world indeed.” He looked around. “Now, what are you doing in my room?”

Remus giggled. “I’m Virgil’s best friend! We were gossiping about the date he’s going on tomorrow.”

Logan nodded. “And where is he now?”

Logan heard the door open and close from behind him. Remus giggled and pointed towards the door. Logan turned around, ready to start his introductory speech again. Instead, all that came out was a quiet squeak.

Standing in the doorway, slack jawed, was V. Logan felt his cheeks turn red as he tried to come up with an appropriate response. Remus giggled again, and V then seemed to realize that Remus was there. “Remus, leave.”

Remus whined. “But we were gonna talk about the guy that made your heart flutter and your di-”

Virgil growled. “Out, Remus.”

Remus stared at the two of them while Logan continued to silently blush. He seemed to come to the correct conclusion as he laughed. “Well, the world’s even smaller than I thought it was. Have fun you two!” And with one last laugh and something whispered into Virgil’s ear, Remus left.

Logan and V- no, Virgil- stared at each other before Virgil started laughing. Logan soon joined him, and they became a giggling mess. Virgil wiped away a fake tear. “What are the odds?”

“Of the two of us being roommates at the same college? Without informing the other of what state we were moving to?” Logan adjusted his glasses. “Too small to consider.”

There was a pause before Virgil spoke up. “Well, I know we have a date planned for tomorrow, but we have two perfectly usable beds right here, and-”

This wasn’t the first time that Virgil was unable to finish telling Logan what he wanted to do, and it wouldn’t be the last. But Virgil was okay with that, if it meant that he was feeling Logan’s lips on his.

#sanders sides #AU_gust_2020 #alternate universe college #analogical #royality #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #my fic

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Freakday - Sex Week Series

You can read the series on AO3 here!

You can read today’s fic on AO3 here!

Freakday!

Alright, y’all, this is 3.7 k of Malex FILTH. Tags include: crossdressing, lingerie, anal play, anal sex, panty kink, pwp, and mentions of alien refractory periods. Enjoy!

.

      Michael let himself into Alex’s house using his TK without even glancing over his shoulder to see if a neighbor was watching. He was tired and was having erotic feelings towards a weeks worth of sleep. It was late, midway between midnight and morning, but he’d been helping Sanders with an emergency tow an hour out of town. It had been a bitch of a job and he was tired, dusty, and feeling like the most shit boyfriend ever. Alex's first performance as Brad in Roswell Theatre Company's rendition of Rocky Horror Picture Show had been that night and he'd missed it.

       “Babe?” he called out, toeing off his boots and hanging up his jacket. He heard an answering yell from the back bathroom. He stopped by the kitchen to grab a beer and then went on into the master bedroom. The bathroom door was shut, but the light was on underneath and he could hear movement through the thin door. “Hey, I’m sorry I missed the show.”

       He set his beer down on the dresser and started pulling off his dirty clothes to chuck them into the hamper. He'd unbuttoned his jeans and was about to shimmy them down when he heard the bathroom door open behind him. He turned and felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

       Alex stood in the doorway in costume. He still had on the fishnet thigh-highs, the black satin underwear and red garters, and the black bustier from the show. He’d apparently taken off his shoes and gloves and was in the process of working off the stage makeup. He looked surprisingly comfortable in the outfit as he stood there working a make-up cloth around his eyes.

       “I thought you were playing Brad?” Michael asked dumbly, his mouth suddenly incredibly dry as his eyes kept running up and down Alex’s body. He didn’t think seeing a guy in lingerie would be a thing he’d like, but Alex wearing lingerie was a thing he      definitely     liked. When Michael’s eyes finally made their way up past Alex’s collarbone he could see the amused smile on his boyfriend's face.

       “I am playing Brad, but the final number always has all the main characters in the same outfit,” he said, waving a hand down his body to indicate his current get up. He tossed the soiled make-up cloth into the trash and approached Michael where he was frozen by the laundry hamper. Up close, Michael could still see flecks of shimmer glitter on his skin and in his hair. The smudged remains or black eyeliner around his eyes and the red stain left on his lips from the lipstick made Michael’s heart rate pick up. Alex laid his arms over Michael’s shoulders and let his body arch into him. “Where were you?”

       “Sanders had a complicated towing job out towards Alamogordo. It took us for fucking ever, this guy ended in a ditch by a gully and…. Jesus, you’re so fucking hot right now,” Michael interrupted himself. He’d been running his hands up and down the bustier and then past it’s edge between the two or three inches of uncovered flesh before he hit the panties Alex was wearing under the garters. They felt like they had distinctly less fabric to them than a normal pair of women’s briefs. Alex was giving him an amused smile which Michael took as encouragement as he traced along the edges of Alex’s underwear with the tips of his fingers.

       “Just don’t rip anything, I have to wear this for two more nights. Rocky Horror all Halloween weekend!” Alex repeated the advertising line with his best attempt at a radio announcer’s voice. Michael grinned and moved forward to hover in front of his mouth for a kiss.

       “We’ll get you out of this in no time. I think I’ve already found my favorite part,” Michael breathed against his lips before giving Alex a quick kiss and snapping the waistband of Alex’s panties.

       “Oh? You don’t think I look good in the whole outfit?” Alex teased as Michael’s wandering hands pushed under the edge of the bustier to touch his back and then back down to his ass.

       “Oh, I love the whole outfit. But I mean, if I can want to fuck you in that terrible, unflattering airmen’s outfit, then there’s nothing I won’t want to fuck you in. This, however, is certainly something...more,” Michael replied easily. He moved his mouth to Alex’s jaw, then neck, then shoulder, then chest. He kissed along the upper edge of the bustier, his hands starting to go for the knotted corset ties at the top. Alex stilled his hands. Michael looked up at him curiously.

       “There’s a zipper in the back,” he said with a frankly dirty grin before turning around to show Michael his back. Michael caught the flash of the silver zipper tongue, but couldn’t help but stop and appreciate the full picture. The swell of Alex’s impressive shoulder muscles over the top of the black pleather, the way it framed his tapered waist, the red garter that pressed into his muscular ass on its way down his to the tops of his black fishnet thigh highs, and the black satin panties that were almost a thong showing off the round globes of his ass. He’d shaved just about everything to be able to wear this outfit and while Michael loved Alex’s body hair more than was appropriate, this smooth, manicured version was also delectable.

       “You just going to look or are you going to help me get out of this?” Alex asked over his shoulder. Michael moved close to speak low in Alex’s ear as he grasped the top of the zipper.

       “Hold your horses. I’m admiring a piece of art,” Michael said before starting to kiss a trail down Alex’s neck and then down his spine. He unzipped as he lowered himself onto his knees, mouth pressing against every new inch of skin exposed by the parting zipper teeth. When he got to the end, he unhooked the zipper with a quick tug. He was peripherally aware that Alex slipped the garment off his torso and tossed it towards the top of the dresser. He was more aware of the new expanse of naked skin in front of him and the faint lines of indention pressed into it from the tight garment. He traced the lines on Alex’s skin with his fingertips for a moment before continuing his slow descent down Alex’s body. He pushed his fingers under the red garters and traced down their path with his knuckles, admiring the red against Alex’s skin and the goosebumps that sprang up in the wake of his touch. He started to undo the hooks at the bottom of the garters with his fingers while his mouth brushed over the swell of skin that wasn’t covered by the bottom of Alex’s panties. He gave sucking kisses to the skin, enjoying the rosy flush as evidence of where his mouth had been. Alex moaned above him and Michael had to remind himself that this wasn’t the main event.

       “Turn around for me so I can get the garters in the front,” Michael commanded, staying on his knees on the floor and enjoying the view of Alex carefully twisting around to face him. It was evident when he turned around that Michael wasn’t the only one enjoying his slow exploration of Alex’s body. Michael threw him up a mischievous look before pulling down the front of Alex’s panties and tucking the band underneath his balls. The top of the garter belt and the fabric from Alex’s panties made an enticing frame for his cock. Alex was two thirds hard and it was making Michael's mouth water with memories of how good he tasted and felt on Michael's tongue. He caught Alex’s gaze as he moved forward and took him into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and shaft as he sucked more of him in. Alex let out a broken moan, his hands shooting out to clutch at Michael’s shoulders. Michael worked the other garters free quickly before pushing his hands up Alex’s thighs and massaging gently. Another moan worked itself out of Alex, this one full throated as his cock filled to full hardness in Michael’s mouth. Michael popped off with a sigh and pulled the front of Alex’s panties back up. They couldn’t cover all of Alex’s straining cock now that he was fully hard and the spit-slick tip stuck up past the waistband. Alex whined at the pressure under his head, but didn’t move to remove it. Michael curled his fingers under the garter belt and pulled it down Alex’s hips and thighs and then carefully maneuvered it off his feet.

       “You should go lay on the bed for this next part,” Michael advised, hands smoothing back up the textured expanse of the fishnets. Alex, who’d been watching him through half closed eyes, nodded his agreement and stepped back and over to the waiting bed. He hopped onto the edge and after a slow look up and down Michael who was still kneeling, crooked a finger at him to beckon him over. Michael stood and walked over, immediately situating himself between Alex’s obscenely spread legs. Alex drew him in for a deep, filthy kiss, his hands tugging through his curls before moving down his bare chest and lower to dip into the front of his open jeans.

       “Have I told you before how much I love it when you don’t wear underwear?” Alex said with a smile that spread from his lips to Michael’s as he pushed his jeans down his legs until they piled at the floor around Michael’s feet. Michael stepped out of them and kicked them behind him. Alex’s hand was around him, stroking and smearing the precum that had gathered at his tip over and down around the head. His other hand stayed tangled in Michael’s hair as they continued making out. Michael couldn’t stop running his hands over Alex’s body, too restless to stay one place, too keyed up to focus as it went from his thighs to his back to his chest to his hair and back down again. He started to lean forward, forcing Alex to let go of his cock in favor of catching himself on his elbows to gentle his fall as he was pushed back into the mattress. Michael broke their kiss and began kissing, sucking, and nipping a path down Alex’s body back towards his red, neglected cock. He only briefly paused to suck at the exposed head, drawing out a whine from Alex above him, before he kept moving down over his covered shaft and balls, mouthing at the soft fabric.

       He pushed down the thigh highs one at a time, careful not to tear them. He kissed and nipped roughly at the thin, sensitive skin of Alex’s inner knee as he worked off the prosthesis, sock, and liner. He massaged the muscles of Alex’s residual limb and up to his outer thigh, his mouth working the inner thigh. When his mouth reached the apex of Alex’s legs, he looked up towards Alex’s flushed face where he’d been watching him undress and worship his body.

       “I want to fuck you with the panties on,” Michael said, before mouthing over Alex’s balls and cock again, moving back up towards Alex’s face. “I want to you to lie on your stomach with you ass presented for me, panties on, and I want to eat you out and then fuck you. Sound good?”

       He’d finished with his mouth on Alex’s chest and he barely had to wait half a breath for Alex’s response.

       “Fuck, yes,” he breathed, pushing his hand into Michael’s hair so he could direct his face back up to Alex’s for a deep, searching kiss full of filthy promises and need. When Alex broke the kiss, he moved back away from Michael further onto the mattress and realigned his body so he could have his face near the headboard. He moved a pillow under his hips, but kept his body up on his knee not resting on it yet. Michael grabbed lube and a condom out of the bedside table and threw them onto the cover near Alex’s pillow before climbing onto the bed behind Alex’s beautifully presented ass. He put his hands over both cheeks of his perfect ass, fingers sneaking under the leg bands, and he began massaging the muscles in his hands. He loved watching the way the fabric seemed to disappear between Alex’s cheeks as he moved them, loved knowing he was one thin scrap of material away from what he really wanted. He bent forward and pulled Alex’s cheeks apart. He breathed through his mouth over the area directly above Alex’s hole, knowing the fabric was getting warm as he did. He pressed his tongue forward and licked over the fabric, causing Alex’s breath to hitch in surprise. Gathering some spit on his tongue, the next lick soaked the material through and it was almost like there was nothing between him and Alex’s skin. He backed up, kissed up to Alex’s skin, and rubbed his thumb over the sodden fabric over Alex’s pucker.

       “Does this feel okay, babe?” Michael asked, smiling even though Alex couldn’t see it when he got a needy whine and Alex pressing back against the pressure of his finger. He couldn’t help but mess with him a little. He pressed a little more firmly, dragging his finger up and down over his entrance, petting him with his thumb. “Do you need a little more?”

       “Fuck, Michael, yes!” Alex answered, sounding equal parts of horny and frustrated. Michael smiled against the skin at the bottom of his spine and kissed him apologetically.

       “Okay, I got you,” he said, then moved back down to replace his thumb with his mouth. He licked firmly over the fabric, pushing with his tongue at the pucker, swirling over it and sucked at the satin and skin surrounding it. Finally, he pushed the fabric aside, too desperate himself to keep teasing. At the first touch of his tongue to Alex’s skin, Alex let out a high pitched cry and Michael had to reach down to hold himself to keep from letting the sound get him too worked up. He returned to eating Alex out, pushing his tongue past his tight rim faster than he might normally but feeling himself starting to get desperate for more. Alex must’ve been feeling the same way, because he groaned into his pillow and rocked his hips back against Michael’s probing tongue. Michael sat back and grabbed the condom and lube. He ripped open the condom packet and rolled it onto himself quickly. When he popped the cap and looked up through, Alex was already working one finger in and out of his hole. Michael bent forward without thinking and licked around the probing finger, pushing his tongue alongside as much as he could. Alex keened above him and Michael reached between his legs to pull the panties down off of his cock. Even without seeing, Micheal could feel where Alex was dripping steadily onto the pillow beneath him. The tip was so warm and slick that Michael’s hand slid easily as he wrapped his fingers around Alex’s length and jerked him as best he could from the odd angle. He felt Alex pull his finger back and come back with two. Michael caught his hand and kissed his fingers before letting go.

       “I got you, baby. Let me take care of it. You touch your cock while I get your ready, yeah?” Michael suggested, letting Alex’s cock go so he could drizzle lube onto his fingers. He smeared the tips around Alex’s red, needy pucker before pushing in with two to take up where he and Alex had left off. It was still a slight stretch, but Michael immediately began spreading his fingers carefully and scissoring them to help Alex along. He teased at the rim with a third after a few minutes and Alex groaned behind him.

       “Please Michael, I’m good. I wanna feel you stretching me on your cock!” Alex groaned while looking over his shoulder, hair disheveled and expression wild. Michael nodded, too keyed up to say no, and dragged the panties down until they rested under the swell of Alex’s cheeks. He drizzled lube over his cock, using his hand to spread it around before positioning himself at Alex’s entrance. Since he wasn’t fully stretched, it took a little more effort for his body to accept Michael’s thick cock inside of him. Michael rocked forward gently, holding Alex’s hips steady as he pushed his way slowly past the tight rim of muscle. Alex’s thighs were trembling and Michael could feel the tension in his body. He paused and ran his hands up Alex’s back, massaging the muscles of his shoulders and down his spine. Minutely, inch by inch, Alex relaxed as Michael continued to push himself further into him with short, slow thrusts until their hips were cradled against one another.

       “Fuck, we should’ve stretched you more. You’re so fucking tight right now,” Michael groaned from above him, trying to get used to the velvet vice grip surrounding him. Alex was panting into his pillow, but Michael could see his arm moving beneath him, slowly stroking his cock. Alex loved this. Alex loved a little less prep and a little more stretch, loved to feel his body forced to make room for Michael inside of him, and Michael felt sure that Alex could cum just like this, without Michael moving, just stuffing him full while Alex jacked himself off onto the bed spread. But that wasn’t today’s game. Leaning forward, Michael positioned his hands to either side of Alex’s ribs and started to pull his hips back. It felt amazing. It always felt amazing to be inside Alex’s body, but this sucking pressure as he pulled out and pushed back in was indescribably good.

       “Oh God, Michael. Like that,” Alex moaned underneath him, punctuating his praise with a squeeze of his muscles around Michael’s cock that left him moaning helplessly into the skin of Alex’s back. Michael tried to keep up his steady pace, but his body craved more and it was hard to keep going slowly.

       “Alex, baby, I gotta…,” Michael panted against his skin. He couldn't wait before he picked up the tempo of his thrusts, pushing harder to feel the singing sting of their skin slapping together, and he could feel the coil of impending ecstasy in him growing tighter and tighter. Alex was likewise moaning and pushing back into his thrust, their skin meeting in meaty blows that pushed grunts out of Michael’s throat. It was too good, everything felt too good. He wasn't going to last very long.

       “Are you close?” Michael managed to ask through clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut so he couldn’t be tempted to look down at the reddening skin of Alex’s ass and thighs where it was meeting Michael's or at his cock splitting Alex wide as he thrust hard into his body.

       “Yeah, yeah. I’m so close, Michael. Fuck, so.. So… AH!” Michael felt the inexorable tightening of Alex’s body around him and he bit his lip as he plowed through his last few thrusts so he could follow him. It was the kind of orgasm that sucked all the sense of our brain and poured it into every nerve ending on your body. He kept rocking through his aftershocks until it became too much and he had to still and calm his heart.He and Alex tipped to the side as one, still connected, and breathing heavily. Michael lazily kissed Alex’s shoulder as he recovered, his arms wrapped solidly around his waist as if Alex would try to move away from him. Alex rubbed his forearms soothingly and pressed his body back into his kisses, tangling their legs together.

       “You’re amazing,” Michael breathed into Alex’s sweat dampened hair. He loved the smell of Alex after sex. He smelled good enough for Michael to get hard for another round before he could pull out from this one. The condom was the only obstacle keeping him from doing just that. With distaste and disappointment, Michael reached down between them to hold onto the condom as he pulled out of Alex’s body. He stripped it off and tied it quickly, tossing it towards the wastebasket. He pushed back against Alex’s body, needing to feel every inch of skin against his that he could. Michael buried his head in Alex’s neck and just breathed, trying to memorize his scent and their scent together.

       “So panties are apparently a thing we both enjoy. Good to know,” Alex teased in a casual, conversational tone. Michael nipped at the skin of his neck and snuggled himself closer as if they weren’t already touching everywhere they could.

       “Yes, I’d say so,” Michael agreed after Alex started to grind his ass back against Michael’s only half deflated cock. “But if you keep doing that, I’m not going to bother with the condom next time and we’re just going to have a mess to clean up.”

       “You didn’t have to bother with it this time,” Alex said, still giving small rolls of his hips.

       “I didn’t want to stain your costume,” Michael explained, feeling his cock fill again. Fucking alien refractory period was a curse and a blessing. His body had started to respond, small rolls of his hips to correspond with Alex's, his cock nestling in the valley between his still pink ass cheeks.

       “No costume in the way now…” Alex said conspiratorially. He reached back and raked his short nails up Michael's thigh to his hip, where he gripped him as if to spur him on.

       “Fuck, you’re a fucking menace,” Michael complained halfheartedly. Alex let our a pleased hum of agreement. Michael pulled himself away suddenly to lay on his back. “But you’re on top this time.”

       Alex rolled over and looked Michael up and down slowly, licking his lips as he did so.

       “Oh no, what’s a boy to do,” he replied with a slow, dirty grin that made Michael exceedingly glad he already had the morning off, because he didn’t think he’d be fit to move until after lunch.

#malex fic #malex #sex week challenge #michael guerin #alex manes

[female-overlord-3]

Bring Them Home  Ch 15 Smash

This fic is slow going with everything but going. Kept this baby as a draft until I wrote the next chapter :D

Alex, Michael, and Isobel bond and talk! Enjoy 💛

Read on AO3

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They get their 3 hours and a little bit more until Michael finally becomes the voice of reason.

"As much as I want to spend the rest of the day with you, I need to check in with Sanders and do my actual day job. Plus Izzy is nothing but greedy for all the attention on her."

Alex just gives him a look before dragging Michael back onto the bed and rolling to be on top.

"This is a once in a blue moon lazy day for me Michael. You give me another hour and then I'll be satisfied."

Their first hour was the nap after their call, Michael carrying a dozing Alex to his bed so they'd be more comfortable. The second was Michael thoroughly massaging Alex's full body after Alex does his at home PT routine. The third was them switching between kissing and talking.

Michael wouldn't mind the third hour becoming 2 straight hours of more talking and kissing. He also doesn't think he can move because Alex is pretty much the ideal weight for holding him down.

Then the small touches start. One hand moving to his neck as a thumb swipes up and down his throat slowly before it moves to sink into his curls. Fingers gently digging into his scalp as lips press randomly across his torso and above. Michael is in actual heaven as he loses time to Alex's devoting touches until his left hand cramps and he lets out a hiss from the pain.

Lifting up Alex gives him space to do whatever he needs, his face pinched in worry and flickers of guilt at seeing Michael cradle his hand.

"Do you need a heat compress or acetone for the pain?" Alex quietly asks but Michael shakes his head.

"It'll pass. Give it a minute."

Hesitantly Alex reaches for it and let's the tips of his fingertips rest ever so lightly on the ridges of the scarred skin that Michael barely feels as Alex traces it. Michael lifts his hand up to feel the pressure and warmth of Alex’s hand but Alex snatches it away.

“Doesn’t it-” Alex's voice was quiet and a bit hoarse. “I don’t want you to hurt. I was trying to-” He stops himself again with his words stuck as old guilt starts to consume him.

Sighing Michael sits up but keeps his hands to himself.

“You think we’re ready to talk about this?” He waves his left hand between them.

He gives Alex a good minute to breathe through what he’s feeling right now before slowly inching his right hand to the thigh resting next to his.

“I am but that’s cause I made peace with it a long time ago. If you’re not then we can put it on hold for another time but you didn’t do this to me, you’re not a monster or violent like him. I’m not gonna lie, it reminds me that there’s bad in the world, that it’s cruel and doesn’t care but,” His hand has traveled up and cups Alex’s cheek. “It also reminds me that there are kind people like you who somehow left me a medical kit even though I didn’t see you for a week because you were hurt too. That wanted me to get help and go to the hospital but found an alternative when I kept telling you no.”

Alex’s eyes fall closed as he leans into Michael’s hand.

“You’re lucky your antibodies are immune to human infection and diseases.” Is the only thing he can say.

“Pretty nice that my form of power boost is just 5 bucks a bottle too, though my personal brew is much better.” Michael raises his left and holds it in front of Alex. “You didn’t need to go and make us a matching set but of course you had to one-up me.”

All he gets is a soft noise from Alex who’s finally reached for his left hand, both of his cradling Michael’s like it’s precious as he brings it to his chest to lay right over his heart. The steady thump is a song he’s missed.

“You could’ve healed it but you didn’t want to. You wanted to remember the good and the bad.”

Michael snorts at that. “I mean Max only offered like once but it also would’ve become a thing if people found out. Even though I didn’t know how much your dad was actually watching us, I didn’t want to give him anymore reasons to start snooping around. Hey you think he knew before and that’s why he went psycho?"

He asks it like an actual question, one of pure curiosity because now with everything they know it might actually be true.

"Maybe but I knew regardless he'd do something to anyone I brought home. Sure it was like an open secret but I tamed it down around him, the eyeliner and punk was just the easiest way to be proud but on just the edge. It helped that he hated both."

Michael watches as Alex's face pinches again.

"Would you heal it now or like a partial one?"

Smiling Michael just rubs his thumb against Alex's chest.

"Don't know. Depends really."

He pulls Alex back down and holds him close, soaking up as much comfort and the feeling of safety, love, and peace.

Of course not 10 minutes later there's a honk and a mental nudge from Isobel.

"Nooooo." He groans and buries his face in Alex's hair.

Alex agrees and presses closer as their phones start ringing.

"How is she calling both of us!"

There's a knock at the door then the sound of intentionally loud footsteps that stop at the window of their room.

"I promised lunch."

"We could be having really kinky sex right now Iz."

"Oh that reminds me I need to find a new playmate. Alex we're going to a gay bar. I want to see if me going all obsessed over Rosa was a me thing or his and I need a wingman who gets me."

Michael makes a face and holds onto Alex tighter. He doesn’t want Alex going to any bar without him.

"In my professional opinion it might be too soon and you're technically still married but screw it let’s go have fun." Alex pauses and reconsiders his words. “Actually if anything Kyle might be more game then me. I may be out and proud but I kinda dislike people… and crowds now.”  

He gives Michael a deep but short kiss and starts to wiggle free. Michael makes a valiant attempt to keep him in bed which is funny because earlier he was trying to head out for work and be responsible. He flips them over and tries to distract Alex with more kisses and he can feel Alex starting to give in when Isobel knocks on the window.

"We still game to blow up stuff or was that just the land around the cabin? Also will someone please let me in!"

They both groan and finally scramble out of bed to put pants on. Michael turns to face where the front door is and glares at it until it opens.

“It’s open.”

“Lovely. I’ll bring my stuff in.”

Michael slips down to slide on the sleeve then prosthetic for Alex before waddling closer to wrap his arms around Alex’s waist so he can bury his face in a very warm stomach.

“No bar without me. Someone’ll snatch you up.”

The vibrations and sound of Alex’s quiet laugh is nice.

“I was being honest about not really liking bars Michael and I'm only a tiny bit better about people. Have no fear everyone will be flocking to your sister.”

Silently Michael stands before climbing into Alex’s lap and latches onto him like a koala.

“Jesus I forgot how clingy you are.” Alex teases as his hands settle on Michaels sides. “Not that I mind.” He adds.

Leaning back to face each other, Michael gives him a dramatic pout. “You’re hot stuff and people will absolutely flock to you. I can’t stop people from looking but I can at least stop them from touching.” He eyes Alex’s neck hungrily and starts to lean down but a hand in his hair stops him.

“Ah and the marking thing. You sure you’re not a vampire?”

“It won’t be like-”

The unamused look Alex is sporting just makes Michael grin smugly. “You made it go around my whole neck. You gave me an actual hickey necklace Michael and it lasted for a whole week. No hickey necklace.”

“What about like two where everyone can see?” Michael questions and his eyes stare at the perfect spot. “I’ll keep them small.”

They roll over with Alex keeping him pinned down.

“You and I have a very different idea of what small is. No hickeys or marks until we go on another date.” He kisses Michael’s cheek before rolling off and leaving to go see what Isobel’s up to.

Michael mopes and gets dressed slowly. If the hoodie he has on is unusual for him well it’s Alex’s fault for leaving it in the room. In the closet and folded up top but Michael found it so finders-keepers.

“Michael you're staying 20 minutes so you can praise me while I break stuff with my mind." Isobel eyes the sweater and frowns. "Are you having a mental breakdown? That's the only time we wear hoodies." She comments and takes a step closer, ready to bring Michael into a hug for comfort which kinda confuses him.

"Um no. I'm good Iz. Just claiming one of my rights to wear something of Alex's." Michael pauses before taking his own step forward in concern. "Are you good? I know I haven't fully been there for you with everything but if you-"

Isobel rolls her eyes at him.

"I'm a big girl. It's been…. A lot but Alex and the others have helped in their own way. I do know breaking all this stuff will feel good so come on teach me how you do it." She says as she pats his shoulder then heads to Alex's backyard, Michael quickly following her.

"You're sure?" He asks. "I know we all have a tendency to avoid actually talking about our shit so if there's anything you want to then I'm here."

The tight line of Isobel's lips hold for a few seconds before dropping as she sighs.

"I'm still mad and hurt. Also sad because I- this whole mess started with him and I was just a tool he used. I was finally starting to feel like I could be myself but even that's a lie. First it was thinking I was the one who killed everyone and that sucked but finding out the actual truth was worse." Her voice wobbles a bit before she takes a deep breath to steady it. "I know I'm not okay and we're all dealing with our own shit but for once I don't feel totally alone. I'm gonna try and be a better sister to you because you've always been there for me Michael, you carried what happened that night with you for a decade so I wouldn't have too. I've let myself follow whatever Max decided because we got to grow up together and I thought he was right, that he was protecting us and the normal life we had."

She swallows and her eyes dart away.

"And he was but that meant you were left out because you never got our type of normal. So I'm gonna work on being there for you too and making sure you're included. Now let's go break stuff."

Michael grabs onto her hand and squeezes it. Isobel squeezes back and both their eyes are a bit misty but the smiles they wear are bright.

They see Alex a couple yards out, placing items from the box Isobel brought around his open backyard.

“Whatever you break you also clean up so I would suggest a tarp or something.”

Michael swaggers over and latches onto his side, nuzzling into his neck.

"Of course gotta keep the place clean. I'll go grab one." He leans to take a sip from Alex's milkshakes but it's moved away.

"You hate mint."

Michael blinks at him and can't help how big his smile turns.

"I don't mind it when it's from you." His eyes land on Alex's lips in an obvious request.

Michael's curls slap him in the face.

"Ow Iz why!"

"What? I'm just practicing my power." Her sickly sweet voice and eyelashes fluttering says anything but.

Michael rolls his eyes and pecks Alex's check. "You get thirty minutes and then I have to head to Sanders."

A hand slides into the back pocket of his jeans and he's pulled closer to Alex's side.

"Whatever you don't break or wanna leave to burn will be our bonding time."

Isobel's eyes light up at the offer.

"You really weren't lying about getting to explode shit! Like actual explosives?" She grabs onto Alex slowly and starts tugging him back to the house so he can show her.

Michael doesn't let go and they all walk back inside relatively easy for the three of them latched onto each other.

"More like I have the basic materials needed to make bombs which you would be surprised on how easy they are to make." Alex comments as Michael gives an understanding nod.

"Though I do have some minor explosives that are probably closer to fireworks which are easier to clean up after and that can easily be stated as such."

Alex slips out of their arms and goes to the small closet hidden behind the bathroom, the three of them bring all the goods to the living room.

"Does this mean I can use you as an excuse to come here instead of my mother's Fourth of July barbeque? I'm always stuck talking about nothing and everyone keeps expecting me to be pregnant. Do I look like mother material to you?"

She's settled in Michael's lap as they hold each other comfortably. Michael rests his head on her shoulder as he chuckles.

"Hmmm you're more Aunt material. You'd spoil my future kids rotten but also make sure they know how to talk circles around people the second they learn how."

"Their first words will be aunt Izzy or some variation of that. I'm not picky."

Her tone is casual but her eyes don't leave Alex who's gone quiet.

"I'm not saying a hard no to possibly being a surrogate but in a few years ask me again. I'll be back, just need to use the bathroom." She glides off of Michael's lap and out the door.

Michael doesn't pay her any mind and flops back to lay back on the bed.

The thought of having kids have been an off and on thing for him. Sometimes he doesn't because he's not even human and not the stablest person, being in the system didn't do him any favors. There's so much entailed with it that if he ever did he's worried the poor kid will turn out worse than him, that Michael won't have or be able to provide what they'll need. Then there are days he'd love to be that parent for someone who needs it, to be who he needed as a kid. Save at least one kid from a bad situation. Have the type of family he's sometimes let himself dream and barely hope for.

Sometimes it's just him raising a kid alone but other times Alex is there too, both of them sharing the love they have with someone else who might need it. Alex would never be like his father and would give their kid everything they needed no matter what but also make sure they have boundaries and morals and good life lessons.

"Would you want kids Alex?"

Michael voices once he's brought back to the present.

Just because he wants kids doesn't mean he needs them. He knows better than anyone that you gotta be committed and ready for that type of responsibility.

There's always the future but for right now he just wants to get his mom and people free, to deal with Noah, and to be with Alex.

"In another life… yes but I'm not sure about this one." Alex gets this nervous look on his face before sighing. "I'd have to think about it."

That's pretty much on par what Michael knew he'd say.

"Do you- I mean obviously you do but I'm not-"

Michael uses his powers to tug Alex to him. He takes Alex's hands and gives a light squeeze.

"I do but not now or for a while. I want to get my mom out and deal with the insanity of our lives first then enjoy being with you. I would like them in the far far future but I don't need them. I'm not letting some punk take all your attention until I've gotten my fill."

Alex clings to him and nods.

"Okay."

"As of now I love you and my meddling sister. You can come back in Isobel."

She walks in stubbornly with her head held high.

"I didn't mean to bring up future kids. You did that all on your own Michael and I'm sure you'll both be amazing uncles when Max and Liz figure their shit out. Max will finally have a reason to quit the force and stay at home to write like he's always wanted while Liz works on saving the world and all that jazz."

She grabs all the explosives quickly and carefully to do something with her hands.

“I mean who wouldn’t want an adorable hybrid of me though right, the world would all but perish under our reign. I’m sure i’d be a good mom though… with time and everyone else’s kids as a trial but like you guys said, now is a horrible time.” Her voice lowers to something almost hushed. “I’m sure plenty of kids need a home once i’m ready so all we need to do now is learn and be as prepared as possible.”

Michael smiles fondly at her as he stands and wraps an arm around her waist, pressing his forehead to the side of her neck.

“There’d be nothing stopping you once you decide your ready Isobel.”

Alex leans into her other side and they all just take a moment to breathe together.

“When we’re ready.” Alex voices with hope and it brings a smile to all their faces. “Does that mean we’re ready to go blow stuff up now?”

That gets a laugh.

“Come on all this emotional talk is ruining the mood. I’m ready to see how much control I need to learn to beat Michael!”

The three proceed to smash, break, and explode the contents of Isobel's boxes while enjoying their lunch.

Isobel is a bit shocked and proud of how much control Michael has on his power. A bit jealous too but she’s only just started. She finds it sickeningly sweet how awed Alex looks when he looks at Michael but the kind one he gives her makes up for it.

“How did I not see it?” She asks them. Her tone is light with wonder. That she never saw how much love just poured from them. It’s been a decade and she’s only finding out now.

Both Alex and Michael sigh but there’s less of a haunted look in their eyes.

“Shit timing and even worse communication.” Michael voices and then he’s at Alex’s side. “It’s hard to have something when everything’s going against you.”

Alex nods with his face set in a hard look before it clears.

“We kept it to ourselves cause it was safer but now there’s less bullshit to fight against.”

Isobel hurts from even the idea of what they’ve been through, the flashes she’s gotten from Alex flickering before she lets it all go.

“Well you’ve got someone else on your side.” she stands tall again, stronger and more solid with this certain topic worked through. "I'd happily melt anyone who's brain keeps giving you guys trouble. I'm sure I can make it look like an aneurysm."

She’s trying to be reassuring but the pained and overwhelmed look on Michael's face makes her feel unsure, like she's miss stepped somewhere.

It's only when Michael launches at her and holds her in a crushing hug, that his mind is so loud it's screaming at her by being in contact, that she understands.

Michael's always been so strong and never truly had anyone who he felt he could rely on, to truly rely on. Alex probably now with everything known but not really anyone else and that hurts Isobel all over again.

They should've been united from the start. They should've been together, able to rely and trust each other without doubt.

She holds on tight to him and lets out a sigh when Michael’s mind quiets, Alex’s presence closer being the obvious reason why.

Isobel is going to have a talk with Max about Alex and about Michael. Alex is right that they need to all work together to figure this mess out.

#malex #my work #moon writes #BTH #Look I can still write! #malex fic #Alex Manes #Michael Guerin #Isobel Evans

[starlightinhumanform]

Friday Night Lights

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Romantic Prinxiety, Platonic Sleepxiety 

Summary: Roman and Virgil play opposite positions on their rival high school football teams. It’s the Homecoming game and tensions are high. Neither are willing to lose but one must rise above the other…

Warnings (in order of strength): Some language throughout, Just Gays Being Dudes (That is to say, some mildly mildly risqué content)

Genre: Human (High School) AU, Rivals to Lovers, Eventual Fluff 

A/N: I impulsively wrote a bullet point fic (*btw the bullet fic does contain some spoilers so beware of that before you read it*) several months ago and meant to flush it out a lot sooner but I only got a thousand words in before life hit and I wasn’t able to continue. I’m hoping to get the second part done soon, but in the mean time I thought I might as well post this! :D Love you all 🖤✨ 

Chapter 2    Ao3 Link   Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

The locker room light was sterilely bright, fluorescent lightbulbs glaring loudly above Virgil’s head. Bodies rushed back and forth in front of him, occasionally bumping into his knees or ruffling his hair. A hand clapped his shoulder but between the padding on his shoulders and the distance of his mind, he hardly felt it.

He sat on the wooden bench, neck bent, eyes closed, and breathing deeply through his nose. He did this before every game. While his other teammates hyped each other up- yelling and pounding each other on the back- he would go somewhere far, far away. It was how he got centered before all the chaos, how he rose above the adrenaline pounding in his heart, how he won. But today was different. Today he had to win.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, you ready to smash this game?”

Virgil grinned as he opened his eyes and turned to look at his fullback, Remy, “Yeah, dude. We’re going to wipe that smug grin off Prince’s face once and for all.”

———————————————

Roman Prince sat in a tight huddle with the rest of his team, wearing a smug grin. This was the homecoming game, basically the most exciting three hours of Roman’s year. Besides, this was his senior year and his last chance to show the rival school where they belonged. (That is to say, in the dirt).

With one last shout, the team started jogging out of the locker room, jumping as than ran and yelling at each other occasionally like they couldn’t even remember how to talk. The energy was electric. Roman lived for moments like this. The only thing he loved more than the pre-game hype was the post-victory euphoria.

He grinned and ran out into the field. It was dusk, a dark blue sky fenced off by the bright flood lights ringing the stands. He was hit by the strange combination of smells that was only found on high school football fields- funnel cake and sweat and turf and axe body spray and face paint. He waved at the cheering stands and blew a kiss at the opposing bleachers who booed at his arrival. This was his world and that ridiculous West Shore High didn’t have shit on him.

———————————————-

Virgil glared across the field at the pompous tackler from Monarch Knights. He was currently blowing kisses over towards his team and it made Virgil want to punch him. The boy was just so full of himself. Unfortunately, he had some right to be. On defensive, he was like a wall- one that simply refused to be knocked down. When he played offense, he moved like a tractor through the other team, mowing them down like they were cards and he was a quickly approaching tornado.

Remy laughed next to him, “I don’t think staring at him is going to do anything.”

“Well, if you do your job, I won’t have to do anything to him,” Virgil shoved him lightly in the chest.

Remy pushed back and it sent Virgil stumbling back a few feet. Virgil was by far the smallest on the team but he didn’t really mind; his job was to be light and fast. Being the halfback meant he got the ball and ran like his life depended on it. All the brutes around him were supposed to keep the field clear enough for him to sprint all the way to the end zone.

Usually it worked out well. Remy would run ahead of Virgil, knocking any threats out of the way and Virgil would carry them all the way to victory. Usually. Sometimes they would come across teams with some on-steroids sort of defense. Sometimes Remy would get pushed to the side play after play and Virgil would spend every down trying to weave his way through an oncoming river. Sometimes Virgil would get trapped in front of an oncoming wall and could hardly run an inch the entire night. More specifically, sometimes they played against Roman Prince.

Monarch Knights was the only school they had lost to the entire season. But not tonight. Virgil refused to be made a fool of.

———————————————-

Roman could feel that stare from across the field. Hundreds of eyes were on him at the moment, but none were so venomous.

It was the little creep who played offense for West Shore. He was one of the strangest people Roman had ever had the displeasure of playing against. Virgil Tempeste was like a chihuahua- tiny, aggressive, and buzzing with energy. Standing next to him felt just as idiotically risky as standing three inches from a lightning rod in the middle of a thunderstorm. When Roman had been forced to shake his hand earlier in the season, he had been half convinced that Tempeste was going to bite him.

As difficult as it was to admit though, he was Roman’s biggest concern this game. The halfback was fast and he knew how to weave through even the best defense lineups. He moved across the field like an ice skater across a rink.

Roman tried to give the little weasel a wave, but he was too busy bickering with the boy next to him to see Roman. Is was oddly disappointing; Roman would have loved to see how mad he could make Tempeste before the game even began.

——————————————————- The pre-game niceties passed by Virgil in a blur. Someone sang the national anthem, a coin got tossed, and the Student Body Leaders said something over the speaker system but it just sounded like overly enthusiastic static.

All that mattered was that they had possession of the ball. That meant Virgil could start his sprint from the very start of the game. Virgil liked his position. He was important, he had purpose, it gave him an opportunity to use all of the anxious energy he had bouncing around inside. Most importantly, his position was the very back of the formation which meant he got to see everyone else’s asses.

He looked out across the field and over his team. Past Remy, their quarterback, and the long line of guards and receivers, the red uniforms of the Knights blazed an angry red. It was such an arrogant colour, bright and brash and filling all of Virgil’s senses. Every time they played against the Knights, those stupid uniforms bothered him a ridiculous amount. Maybe that’s why they wear them- like that thing the matadors do with the red capes.

Virgil shook his head. He needed to stay focused; the game was going to start in seconds at most and he was idiotically thinking about the opposing team’s colours. But if he craned his back he could just see Prince…

—————————————-

Roman glared at the brute in front of him. His mouth guard sat heavily against his teeth. The bitter taste of plastic couldn’t mask the coppery adrenaline that coated his tongue and flooded his brain.

This was his game. His to win, his to conquer, his to dominate. And none of those Concord-grape-looking fools were going to get in his way.

The beast in front of him growled and Roman rolled his eyes. He really thought he could intimidate Roman? Bitch, please. He looked like the type of guy who would hurl slurs at Roman for wearing eyeliner just because he was insecure in his own sexuality (and probably thought that Roman was just a little bit hot). That type stopped scaring him a long time ago. Besides, he could brush that guy off like a fly.

The real threat was several feet behind him. Roman had come to refer to Remy Ristretto and Virgil Tempeste as Team Rocket because they were just as annoying and undermining- except they were often more successful than the cartoon characters.

Roman stopped trying to see Virgil and made eye contact with the wall just a few feet ahead, giving him a wink. He might as well have fun with this. Anyways, he’d have plenty of time to bother Tempeste later in the game.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist or my Friday Night Lights taglist, please just send me an ask or reply to this post :p (please specify which one you would like to be added to!) 

General Taglist: @phan-fander @abi-beehive @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @endless-rain-of-words @vicdehart @im-actually-ok @softnic  Friday Night Lights Taglist: @lcrnbw @itsvirgilelliot @amazing-creepyfloof

#prinxiety #prinxiety fic #prinxiety high school au #prinxiety enemies to lovers #high school rival au #prinxiety human au #prinxiety fanfic #prinxiety fanfiction #romantic prinxiety #platonic sleepxiety #virgil x roman #roman x virgil #sanders sides human au #sanders sides high school au #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #starlight writes #Friday Night Lights

[pixelatedrose]

Soulbound Part Five

First | Previous | Part 5 | Next

Ao3 link

Masterpost

Word count: 4,674

Pairings: platonic LAMP, Prinxiety, Logicality, background Remile

Warnings: Uncensored swearing, Implied self harm (skip starting from "so instead of trying to make it okay" to the break), fighting, talk of controlling parents, panicking, near panic attacks, crying, absent siblings, please tell me if i missed anything or if there's something you would like tagged!!

Summary:

Roman Prince and Logan Rose are soulmates. They’re platonic soulmates though. They both have the same Soul mark to prove it. But they both have one other soul mark, binding them to one other person. And when they find Patton Miles, it just so happens that they’re both his soulmate. Logan being his Soulbound Soulmate, and Roman being a platonic soulmate. But something feels missing. And it feels filled, shockingly so, when they meet a certain someone a year and a half after they found each other.

Chapter 5

  The next day at school was a trip for Roman Prince.

  The morning was as usual, and Roman had actually gotten sleep this time. And it was normal (save for his thoughts being preoccupied 65% of the time by a certain boy.) Until his third period with Virgil.

~~•~~

  Oooh!! He's cute! Roman thought walking into class before promptly scolding himself. No no! He has a soulmate! I'm sure of it! He doesn't want to be your friend. Roman warred with himself in his head. But he's still cute. You know you want to be friends with him. And even if he has a soulmate, that doesn't stop you from being his friend!

  Roman strut up to Virgil, who was curled up in a ball with his feet on the table, his hood up and his bangs obscuring his face and eyes. "Hello there J.D-lightful! How is my-"

  Virgil turned away from him. "Not in the mood, Princey." His voice was rough. Rougher than it had been the day before.

  Roman took another look at Virgil. And he really looked at him. His makeup was smeared and looked like it hadn't been washed off since the previous day, what he could see of his hair looked tangled and a mess. From underneath his messed up eyeshadow his pretty blue eyes looked dreary and tired and even a little red around the edges if you looked hard enough. The jacket and pants he was wearing were the same as yesterday and looked wrinkled as if he'd slept that way.

  Virgil looked like a mess.

  Roman sat down and felt an unreal amount of concern for the boy he'd met just a day ago. "Hey, are you doing alright? You don't look too hot there…"

  Virgil shook his head. "No…" He choked out. "But what's it to you anyway?"

  "Well, can't I be concerned for someone who looked like they got dragged out behind a car in the rain?" Roman chuckled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. He hated when people around him were hurting. He wanted to help. If he could, he would want to be the prince charming that saved everyone.

  Virgil chuckled lightly and Roman hid his smile. "Do I really look that bad?" 

  Roman shrugged his shoulders, smiling. "Creative freedom! I wouldn't say I'm above the occasional embellishment! But yes you look like shit, Virgil Sanders."

  Virgil laughed. He actually laughed! It was light and soft and no more than a chuckle, but it was bright with joy and it danced in Roman's ears.

  Roman was so distracted with the soft music of Virgil's laugh he missed his chance to say something before the joy faded from the pretty pale boy's face. "Sorry. It doesn't matter anyway." He huffed despondently.

  Roman perked up as an idea flooded his mind. "Hey why don't I help you fix your makeup and hair at lunch, yeah?" He asked sweetly and enthusiastically.

  Virgil's faced Roman and he saw that his face was flushed, and he was suddenly very concerned if he was running a fever as well and had to fight the urge to reach out and feel his forehead.

  What kind of train of thought was that?? Roman thought to himself.

  Virgil looked down and started playing with the edges of his sleeves. "I don't think that's a good idea, Princey."

  Roman smiled at the nickname. It was one he'd never heard before. He'd been called numerous names, many spread by rumors. Bastard. Prep. Player. Gay whore. Soulless. Homo bastard. Gay bitch. Slut. He'd always taken the names in stride when the moment came, but he knew what power names held. He knew how deep words could cut someone.

  He took a breath and responded. "Why not?"

~~•~~

  Virgil stopped. It was such a simple question. Why did it make his heart pound?

  Why not.

  That was a good question. Why didn't Virgil think it was a good idea?

  Because people will talk.

  Let them talk then.

  Because Roman has a Soulmate.

  But he can still be your friend.

  Because people will bully both of you.

  But then I'd have someone to stand with me.

  Because Roman is just pitying you.

  There it was. The reason it wasn't a good idea. Because it was borne out of pity.

  "Because I'm pitiful and I'm not so sure I'm the kind of person you want to hang out with." Virgil said with a fake laugh. Roman made a face when he laughed. It was a face that someone made when they smelled something rancid. As if listening to Virgil's fake laugh was like hearing what rotten fruit smelled like.

 "Well that's for me to decide and for you to find out how wrong you are about that!!" Roman laughed with such a charming twinkle of determination in his eye Virgil couldn't help but want to be his friend right in that moment.

  He huffed and hid his heated face in his sleeve. "Alright fine. I'll let you do my makeup during lunch, or whatever." He smiled but quickly turned it serious as he faced Roman. "But don't touch my hair. That's mine and I don't like people touching it."

  Virgil waited for the inevitable, 'But You said I can do it so I'm allowed to touch it' or 'Awh, but it would make me just so happy if you'd let me do it! And you don't want me sad, do you?' But instead all that came was, "Of course! If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll be more than happy to leave it alone, fair-faced!"

  What? That was new for Virgil. He was so used to his mother and other kids invading his space and ignoring him, he forgot that people could be better than that.

  Virgil hunkered down in his chair and the two chatted every few moments, Virgil dodging questions and making Roman carry the entire conversation. When Roman stopped talking to him though, Virgil grew anxious. Not of anything in particular, no it was more that Roman calmed him down when he was talking, so when he wasn't it was back to anxiety and worries that held no meaningl.

  The class ended and Roman asked what class he had next. Virgil told him distractedly and didn't connect the dots of why Roman would ask till he saw Roman waiting for him outside his classroom.

  "How did you get here so-"

  "Magic!" Roman interrupted. He held up a beat up hall pass.

  Virgil marveled at it. "How did you get ahold of one of these?"

  "Like I said, magic!"

  "You're a clueless moron."

  "I do suffer from Always Dumb and Hot Disorder, so I suppose you're right."

  "Wait what??"

  "Always Dumb and Hot Disorder! ADHD! I mean I am pretty hot."

  "Snrk, yeah sure Princey. Keep dreaming."

  "I'll have you know I'm made of 100% attractiveness and beauty!!"

  "Oh yeah? Does it say that on the tag? Right along with the price of $10.99?"

  "Oh how dare you put my price lower than the leftover makeup on your face!! I'm worth at least a whole 50 dollars! Per inch!!"

  "Per inch of what? Stupid? You know I could actually believe that one."

  "Well my Nightmare Oatmeal Raisin Cookie, I do believe I could make a fortune myself off the amount of snark you toss out of your mouth."

  "Only for you, Princey!"

  They arrived at the bathroom and Roman pulled out his own makeup supplies he kept on hand.

  It was a lot more vast than Virgil would have thought. Foundation, powder, eyeshadow in the full rainbow of colors (including a deep purple that caught Virgil's eye), eyeliner, and even some sparkly shit Virgil didn't know the name of. (Virgil had always seen it in stores but had opted for just calling it sparkly shit rather than learning it's name.)

  Roman handed him makeup wipes and instructed him to remove his mangled mess of makeup that was already on his pale face.

~~•~~

  As Virgil took off the layers of product on his face, Roman could finally see just how tired he was.

  The bags under his eyes looked very much like the eyeshadow he had been wearing previously and looking at his eyes a little closer, Roman could see they were bloodshot and all in all, it looked like the poor boy hadn't slept in days.

  Roman felt awful for him. There was an odd pang in his chest when he saw the shorter boy like that. What in the world was it about Virgil Sanders that so soundly struck Roman's heart?

~~•~~

  Virgil finished with his face and saw Roman ready with foundation and sponge.

  "Alright, Charlie Frown, ready for your makeover?"

  Virgil rolled his eyes and Roman stepped towards him. 

  In fact Roman came very close to Virgil.

  In fact by the time Roman stopped moving, there was hardly four inches between them.

  And very suddenly Virgil was not alright again.

  Roman had almost completely drowned all of Virgil's fears and hurts and anxieties that had been clustering around him like a dark stormcloud the entire day.

  Roman had made the fact that Virgil hadn't slept that night, instead opting to sit and sob violently while reading the five years his mother had hidden from him, okay. He had made him forget it. He had made it alright.

  Roman had calmed the constant whirlwind of anxiety that was usually so loud that Virgil wanted to throw up to a low buzzing hum that Virgil had finally been able to ignore.

  Roman had made him happy to be there.

  Roman had made him laugh.

  Roman had made him smile.

  Roman had made him forget the marks.

  Roman had made him forget his mistakes.

  Roman had made him forget what and who Virgil was.

  And now.

  Virgil had everything crash back down.

  Virgil backed away from Roman, pushing lightly against his chest. "W-wait I don't think we should do this anymore…"

  Had Virgil not been so lost in the storm of his anxieties, he would have seen the way disappointment and worry flashed vibrantly across Roman's eyes.

  Roman's smile dulled to a softly worried one. "Is everything okay?"

  For some unknown reason those three words made everything worse for Virgil.

  No!! No, nothing is okay!! Everything is wrong and bad and awful and I don't know what to do or where to go and there's no one I can talk to and I'm just so alone and scared and nothing will ever be okay!!!

  Virgil wanted to scream and cry and fall over and he wished he could float around endlessly in the void of space and just silently sob and he wished he had something to distract from the bottomless pit of anxious trembling he had fallen into.

  "I-I'm sorry- I just- I can't-!" Virgil stumbled around his words before he backed away and fled the bathroom. He ran upstairs and into a different bathroom where he locked himself in a stall and cried silently, letting the actions of yesterday wash over him once again.

  Nothing could be done to make it okay.

  Nothing would make anything okay.

  So instead of trying to make it okay, Virgil could at least distract himself.

  So he fished out a pencil from his backpack along with his sharpener.

~~•~~

  Roman watched in pain and dismay as Virgil backed away from him and ran out the door.

  Something was very wrong.

  And it hurt that Roman couldn't help.

  It hurt that he didn't know how to help.

  Roman tried to brush everything off as he started putting away his materials.

  There's something wrong that I'm missing here...Is he okay? Is he alright? Does he need my help? Does he want my help? I want to help him...why do I want to help him so badly?

  As Roman was exiting the bathroom, his wrist exploded into a stinging pain. He nearly dropped his backpack as he grabbed his wrist.

  He pulled back the sleeve of his jacket and found nothing there. Once again it had been nothing but phantom pain. They had been getting more frequent in the past few months.

  The bell rang and Roman walked to his 5th period class where he would spend the time with Patton talking about Virgil.

  "-and then he just...left." Roman said, finishing his account of his interaction.

  Patton nodded his head slowly. "Mm, mm, Logan was right wow. I can't believe it, if I'm being honest, but Logan totally called it."

  "Called what?" Roman asked hesitantly.

  "You are absolutely head over heels for this boy."

  Roman stared blankly at Patton. A red blush exploded onto his face and he waved his hands. "WHAT?!" He shook his head violently and laughed. "No no no, you got this all wrong, Padre! I am not head over heels for Virgil!"

  "Virgil?" Patton suddenly looked curious. "As in Virgil Sanders??"

  Roman looked at his friend, the heat from his face fading. "Yes? Who else??"

  Patton brightened up. "I have him my 2nd period!! You never mentioned his name before and now that you have well it's OBVIOUS who you're talking about!!"

  Roman couldn't help but feel happy. "Really? You know him?"

  Patton laughed. "No! We just have the same class together! That's all!"

  Roman deflated a little and the class carried onward.

  And for the first time ever, Roman was anxious about his theater class arriving.

  When it did eventually arrive, it was so much more dramatic than even the title "drama class" could capture.

  Roman walked into class, dreading to face Virgil.

  But instead of seeing the emo sulking or completely avoiding him, Roman walked onto the stage and was met face to face with Virgil Sanders.

  Literally.

  Roman had nearly ran into the pretty faced emo who was just a few steps away from the door.

  "Hey," Roman started, his hopes of becoming the emo's friend having died to nothing but a sickly burning coal. "Look, I don't know exactly what I did, but I'm really sorry all the same. And you don't have to try and be my friend or anything if you don't want to. I'm really sorry for-"

  Virgil started laughing. It was a louder laugh. It was just as beautiful and sweet as his softly golden chuckle, but this one sounded bright and silvery, it had a bite to it, the way that the cold bites longingly into your skin during wintertime. His laugh was wonderful and sweet and it sounded the way peppermint tasted.

  Roman caught himself up in his laugh before he snapped himself back to reality and found Virgil shaking off the last bit of his laugh and saw the emo smiling sweetly at Roman, his deep blue eyes sparkling with joy and…something harsher.

  "Why are you laughing?" Roman finally found himself asking.

  Virgil straightened himself and responded. "I just thought it was funny," He ran a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs out of his face before the fell over his eyes again. "I was coming to apologize to you for running off so suddenly." Virgil shuffled his feet and played with the edges of his sleeves. His laughing tone turned serious as he avoided Roman's eyes. "I'm really sorry for that. I had a lot on my mind and I freaked out. And if you don't want to be friends, I understand...But I…" Virgil met Roman's eyes before looking back down at the ground. "I wouldn't mind if we hung out a bit."

  Though Roman couldn't see his face, he could practically hear the shy smile that Virgil undoubtedly wore.

  Mr. Sanders walked onto the stage and nearly ran over the two boys who were standing so close to the door.

  "Gah!! Oh! So sorry there, boys!" Mr. Sanders caught Virgil's eye and quicker than needed, he left to center stage.

  Roman, just barely, caught Virgil's pained and distressed expression before the emo threw his hood up over his head, obscuring his face.

  "Alright class! Let's circle up!" Mr. Sanders called brightly.

  Virgil walked over, his hood up and his hands stuffed into his pockets. He stalked over to the edge of the circle, as far away from the young theater teacher as possible. Roman followed, only to have an oblivious and lonely Rose shove herself between Roman and his very near new friend.

  "Hey Ro, guess what?" Rose whispered.

  Roman rolled his eyes. "What?"

  "There's, like, a really cute girl over there!!" She pointed to a tall blonde girl with a shy face and dark bracelets. Another emo, this one a little more subtle than the boy a few feet away from him. "Please be my super cool wingman!" She begged jumping up and down.

  Roman heard Virgil snort from behind Rose. "I-"

  "Alright, class! Today we're going to continue with group juggling, but with a twist!" Mr. Sanders brought out a bag and took an orange tennis ball out. "It'll be just like last time, except we're going to have an order this time." He looked in the direction of Roman, but not at him. "Virgil!" He called to the boy with his hair in his face and tossed the orange ball to him.

  Virgil had not been ready for that. "What?" Virgil asked and only just barely saw the ball coming toward him. The panic was clear on his face as he struggled to catch the ball, eventually having it drop to the floor.

  "What the hell, Thomas!!" Virgil shouted. Roman watched as he saw something boil inside Virgil. "First, you show up in my life out of the blue-"

  "Virgil, now might not be the time to-"

  "Fuck the 'Right time,' Thomas!” Virgil yelled. There was something raw and hurt in his voice that went so much deeper than being unready to catch a ball. “I can't deal with this much longer!!"

  Roman looked between the two and Mr. Sanders caught his eye. "Roman can you-?"

  "Stop it! Stop trying to avoid the reality of things! You can’t just brush it off because it’s uncomfortable or you don’t fucking like it!” Virgil ran a distressed hand through his hair. It had seemed like he’d forgotten everyone was there.

  Mr. Sanders’ eyes darted between his students and Virgil. His eyes landed again on Roman and the tall boy caught his pleading gaze.

  Take the kids back to the classroom, so I can talk to Virgil? Mr. Sanders’ look was clear enough. At the very least, Roman knew to get the others out of the theater.

  “Listen, Virgil! I do want to talk about this! We need to talk about this!” Mr. Sanders said, Turning his full attention to Virgil as Roman started whispering to the kids, herding them off the stage.

  “Then why aren’t yo-”

  Virgil’s pained shouting was muffled almost entirely by the big metal doors the led off of stage left. Roman was almost glad that he couldn’t hear them anymore. Something about the way Virgil was yelling made Roman’s chest twist into a knot and his stomach churn.

  Roman turned around and leaned against the heavy doors, letting a small breath out. He could still hear muffled shouts coming from the stage, though he couldn’t make out any words.

  “Holy shit…” One girl said with a small laugh of disbelief. “Emo’s got some sort of real shit with teach, huh?”

  “Hey!” Rman caught himself shouting, a little louder than intended. He calmed his voice and started again, softer. “I don’t know what’s up between Sanders and Virgil, but whatever it is it should blow over soon!” Roman kept his voice happy and light, but against the door he could hear something being thrown. Maybe a chair by the sound of it. Roman took another small breath. “Let’s just all head over to the classroom. I know some theater games we can play while we wait for Mr. Sanders and Virgil to get back.”

  As they all walked over to the small black-box theater that they used as a theater classroom, Roman hung back a little, sparing one last glance at the doors to the stage before heading over with the rest of the class.

  What the hell kind of second day of school is this??

~~•~~

  Virgil had been dreading his theater class all day.

  Roman had somehow, miraculously, stopped Virgil’s ever racing heart for a few minutes.

  And it wasn’t his fault.

  Thomas’s, I mean.

  He had just been trying to get through the day and had subconsciously picked Virgil.

  It was, however, Virgil’s fault that he had exploded. Maybe it wasn’t 100% his fault, as anxiety, nerves, and the pent up emotions of an anxious and nervous person do play a role in the doom of all things socially acceptable, but it was still his fault at the end of the day.

  And so here they were.

  Screaming.

  Or at least Virgil was cause goddammit he couldn’t take it anymore.

  All the hurt, all the betrayal, everything he had ever wanted that had been stolen from him, everything he had stuffed into little jars in his mind, all of it exploded.

  Right then.

  Right there.

  And by god did it hurt.

  It hurt so badly.

  It stung in his chest and burned in his throat and pricked at his eyes and pounded in his head and clawed at his lungs.

  And it hadn’t been right for Virgil to blame Thomas.

  But he had.

  “Then why aren’t you talking about it?!” Virgil screamed.

  "Because in the middle of my class is not the right time or place, Virgil!! Take into consideration the other kids!!" Thomas raised his voice for the first time.

  Virgil was upset. More than he thought he'd be. He turned to a chair and kicked it hard, sending it bouncing a few feet away.

  Thomas's tone calmed again, but it was still shaky with emotion. "Virgil you need to calm down, okay-?"

  "No, dammit!!" Virgil shouted, tears pricking his eyes causing him to panic even more. "I'm sick and tired of people telling me to calm down because they don't want to deal with me!!" He ran a hand through his hair, his breath was shallow and hard. He caught Thomas's eyes and read pain, panic, and above them, regret. It hurt. If Thomas was like Virgil had thought he'd be, if Thomas had been cruel and spiteful, if he hated Virgil, it would have been easy.

  But Thomas cared.

  And that hurt so much more.

  "Why didn't you-" why didn't you come and find me? "Why wasn't I-" why wasn't I good enough for mom to let me read those letters? "Why couldn't I-" why couldn't I have lived with my brother in my life?!

  Virgil could no longer stand as his legs gave out beneath him. The weight of everything in his mind had seemed to crush him.

  It was awful.

  It was bitter.

  It made him nauseous.

  Virgil sat crumpled on the ground and as his emotions raged inside him, he started to cry.

  Virgil felt a hand on his shoulder and didn’t need to spare the glance at Thomas to know who it was. All he had to do was lean into him and let his older brother wrap his arms around him in a soft, comforting hug that smelled faintly of butterscotch and cinnamon. Virgil buried his face in Thomas’s shoulder and fought sobs.

  This is what he missed out on.

  This is what he never had.

  This is what he wanted.

  An older brother who cared about him.

  And Thomas? He had only really known him for two days, barely. And yet he cared more for Virgil than anything Virgil had felt before then.

  He felt for the first time ever that he belonged.

  Thomas and Virgil sat there on the stage floor for a while longer, Thomas holding his younger brother in his arms and stroking his hair, Virgil sitting in his older brother’s arms and crying softly, slowly calming himself down.

  When Virgil finally calmed down enough, Thomas unwrapped himself from around Virgil. “Alright. Feel better?” Virgil nodded and Thomas continued. “Now then. We  have some things to talk about, I think.”

  Vigil nodded again and the two stood up, walking to the edge of the stage apron and sitting down, letting their feet dangle over the edge.

  “So,” Thomas started, looking out over the empty audience. “Are you okay, first of all, and second, do you want to talk about mom? Or would you rather talk about me and the letters first?”

  Virgil took a shaky breath. “I’m alright. And I think I’d rather talk about...Mom...First…” Virgil was reluctant to admit there was anything at all wrong with his home life, but deep, way deep in the cold dark basements of his mind, the place where all the painful truths hide themselves, he knew that there was.

  Thomas broke the silence. “Does she hide stuff from you often?”

  Virgil nodded. “She removed the lock on my door when I was eight, too. I have this wooden doorstop that I created as a makeshift lock, but I can’t lock my door when I’m away at school.” Virgil looked at his brother. “Did she do stuff like that to you?” He asked tentatively.

  “Yeah.” Thomas said, lowering himself down onto his back and string up at the electrics that were hidden by the proscenium. “She’d read my journals and all the old angsty poems I wrote. She would drink and smoke all the time too.”

  “Virgil nodded sadly, lowering himself down next to his brother. “I mean she’s not all that bad. She cares about me, and feeds me, and makes sure there’s a roof over our head…”

  “Despite that, that doesn’t necessarily make her a good person. She still doesn’t have any right to do what she did to you. If you hadn’t been her kid, she could be arrested for mail theft.” Thomas looked at his brother with a kind of protectiveness that only family harbors for one another. “The question I really need to ask you, Virgil, is this; Do you feel safe and happy at home?”

  Virgil opened his mouth to answer yes, but found he couldn’t do it. His mother would drink most nights and smoke often. She’d come home with someone new as her date every two weeks. She would make him do most things downstairs where she could see him and if he wasn’t within direct eyeshot, would be checking in on him every ten minutes it seemed. He didn’t feel in danger, but he didn’t feel safe. And he didn’t feel unhappy, but he didn’t have very many happy memories of the house with the strange yellow door either.

  Virgil shook his head. “No…” He choked out.

  Thomas sat up. “I have a proposition for you, then.” Virgil sat up too. “For the time being, until you graduate, you’re free to come by and visit me, or spend the night whenever you’d like. Unannounced or otherwise.”

  Virgil found himself lighting up at the prospect of being able to live with or at least visit his brother on a regular basis. He felt his face darken with doubt soon after though. “Really? For real? You’re not playing me here?”

  Thomas looked at Virgil with a serious expression. “Virgil, I want you to be safe and happy, and I’ve wanted to be in your life from the very first moment I knew you existed. When I say you can come over whenever you’d like, I mean it.” Thomas pulled Virgil into a quick tight hug before continuing. “I want whatever’s best for you, and only you know that. I just want to make sure you have somewhere you can go to feel safe and happy.”

  Virgil nodded. “I think…” He started, his mind whirling with possibilities and opportunities. “I think I’d like to come over and talk about the letters later today, Thomas.”

  Thomas smiled. “I think that’s a splendid idea, Virgil.”

Author’s note: Hey, Hi so uh...If any of you remember I said like half a week ago this would be out in a few days...So...Sorry about that. The chapter ended up being a tad bit longer than I thought it was going to be and I lost a lot of motivation for a day or two in there. I’m glad it’s at least on time though, and not late. Ideally it would have been early, like I’d said it would be, but what can ya do? Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoy this extra long chapter! Thanks again for reading it all!! love ya!

Tag list:

@anxietea-and-insanitea

@ghostboi-bambi

@scrunchiescrunchie

@badluckkaren

@ambrechandra

@nadja-chamack16

@athenashipsthings

@slitherynchiken

@crooked-harmony-student

@icequeenoriginal

@just-a-hufflepuff

#ts sides #Logicality #Prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #ts patton #ts roman #ts logan #ts virgil #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #ts sides fic #soulmate au #highschool au #thomas sanders #Soulbound Au

[azozzoni]

Some more VDS smut if you’re up to it and like to write it?

+ Anon: lucas wearing eyeliner and jens finding it really hot

It’s long, it’s smutty. You’ve been warned.

*

Jens had already talked to everyone he was supposed to at the party, hugged Jana and complimented her outfit, told Aaron that his idea cornering Amber in the kitchen was doomed to fail, and convinced Moyo to record it on his phone. He had no idea where Robbe and Sander were, and he didn’t really care at the moment.

He was more interested in where Lucas was. Lucas had texted that the bus was running late and that Jens should go to the party without him. That he’d meet Jens there. Jens hadn’t remembered how boring it was at parties when he was waiting for someone.

Grabbing another drink from the kitchen, Jens leaned back against a wall, checking his phone again. There were no messages from Lucas. It was hard enough that they only got to see each other every few weeks, but when the bus was late, it was like stealing time they could be spending together.

“You look like you’re having a horrible time!” Luca’s voice cut through Jens’ thoughts, and he blinked at her, curls obscuring how high her eyebrows were raised.

“I’m just waiting for someone,” he replied, scanning the room. He didn’t even know whose house this was. It was a big house, with lots of hallways and rooms that Jens hadn’t bothered to explore when he’d gone looking for the bathroom earlier.

“Your boyfriend!” Luca shouted over the music, nodding eagerly, as though she knew all about that. Jens didn’t really know how much Luca knew about his personal life. Not that he ever shared it with her, or any of the girls beyond Jana asking the occasional curious question. “The cute one from the Netherlands!”

Jens could only nod, checking the door again. Nothing.

“Why are all the cute ones gay?” she asked, lamenting with a sigh.

Jens opened his mouth to say something, to point how stupid that was to say, but he stopped when he caught sight of a familiar flash of curls weaving through the crowd. Lucas was here. Finally.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said to Luca. “Enjoy the party.”

He left her without another word, finding Lucas in the crowd and pulling him into a hard kiss.

“There you are,” he said, as though Lucas had been lost. Stepping back, he got a good look at Lucas, the flowery shirt he’d chosen for the evening, buttoned down his chest, tight black jeans, and… was that eyeliner?

“Hi,” Lucas greeted him easily. “Sorry it took so long. There was some accident on the road.”

Jens wasn’t listening, staring at the eyeliner smudged along Lucas’ lash-line—it made his eyes even more blue than usual, deep like sapphires.

Fuck.

“What?” Lucas asked when Jens didn’t reply right away, half-smiling, as though confused by the silence.

“You look,” Jens said, trailing off as he shook his head, leaning in to kiss Lucas again. He didn’t care that they were in the middle of someone’s living room, surrounded by people. He only cared that he got his tongue in Lucas’ mouth, hands sliding down his back as he felt Lucas shiver, press closer.

“It’s that kind of night, huh?” Lucas asked, mumbled against his mouth before biting down and tugging on Jens’ bottom lip. Jens couldn’t hold back his groan, his sigh as he got his hands on Lucas’ hips.

As much as Jens had enjoyed the soft, blushy Lucas from when they’d first met, he liked this Lucas even more. This Lucas wasn’t afraid to take his hand and pull him through the crowd, glance over his shoulder with that look that sent heat straight to Jens’ crotch.

Jens was pretty sure Lucas didn’t know where he was going as they climbed the stairs, headed down a dimly-lit hallway.

“Luc,” he said, tugging Lucas back, boxing him in against a wall as Lucas arched a knowing eyebrow, tilted his chin up, so very wanting that it made Jens ache to get his hands on him. “Fuck.”

Lucas’ mouth was soft and warm, tongue slick as Jens kissed him, got his hands in Lucas’ hair and tugged. He felt Lucas react, arch into him, hands coming to Jens’ sides.

They didn’t always do this, this frantic groping when they met up, this desperate need to feel each other, for Jens to get his hands under Lucas’ shirt and slide up his chest while Lucas made soft noises in his ear. But tonight, Jens just didn’t care. He didn’t care when Lucas showed up looking so good, eyes dark and full of want when he pulled away long enough to take a breath, long enough for Lucas’ mouth to slide over to his ear, teeth tugging at his earlobe and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

They couldn’t do this here, though, Jens managed to think, beyond the haze of heat clouding his brain, beyond the way his whole body reacted to Lucas’ fingers pushing under the back of his shirt, nails scraping down his spine.

“Come on,” he muttered, pulling away despite his better judgment, grabbing Lucas’ wrist and tugging him down the hall.

There were plenty of doors in the hall. The first led to a bathroom and a couple making out in the tub. The next was a linen closet filled with towels and sheets. The third was a dark bedroom, moonlight shining through the window, and Jens made sure the click the lock behind them.

“Whose party is this?” Lucas asked when Jens stepped over to him, pulling off his shirt without waiting for Lucas to do it for him. He didn’t miss the way Lucas’ eyes slid down his chest, the way Lucas bit his lip as his eyes flicked back to Jens’. Lucas didn’t care whose party this was.

“No idea,” Jens replied, a hand on the back of Lucas’ neck, firm, tugging him forward so their lips were almost touching. He felt Lucas’ shaky exhale, watched the way Lucas’ eyelashes swept against his cheek as he blinked. “Moyo got an invite somehow.”

“Good old Moyo,” Lucas murmured, sliding his hands down Jens’ back, tracing the ridges of his spine as Jens took a breath.

Jens wasn’t thinking about Moyo when he got his mouth on Lucas’ a second later, hard and wanting as they fell onto the bed. The mattress was unusually soft, sinking under their weight as Jens crawled on top of Lucas. Lucas’ mouth was open as Jens’ fingers went for the buttons on his shirt.

“Fuck,” Jens cursed as he fumbled with the buttons. “Why’d you pick this shirt?”

“I like this shirt,” Lucas replied, and Jens tried not to get distracted by Lucas’ fingers trailing over his shoulder blades, the way Lucas stretched his neck back, entirely too tempting as Jens attempted to get the shirt off.

He got the first few buttons undone before Lucas pulled him back to his mouth, a slow, burning kiss that made Jens want to rip off the shirt, get his hands all over Lucas, work up a pretty little flush along his collarbone, the bridge of his nose, until Lucas was panting and begging for more.

This wasn’t why Jens had invited him to the party, just so he could get him alone, preferably naked, but Jens would take it.

Lucas laughed as Jens continued his struggle with the buttons, finally getting the last one undone and shoving the shirt over Lucas’ shoulders, tossed carelessly aside as Jens got his hands on Lucas’ chest, leaned in to press long, hot kisses to his skin. He felt Lucas react, the pressure of his hips against Jens’, the hard outline of Lucas’ dick against his.

“Fuck,” Lucas cursed, fingernails digging sharply into Jens’ shoulder as he let out a huff.

Jens didn’t stop to wonder if they should be doing this in some stranger’s bedroom, the party not twenty feet down the hall. He could hear the muffled music through the walls, as though far away somehow, as if it didn’t matter with them locked in this room.

Jens kept his gaze on Lucas’ face, the way Lucas bit his lip and watched eagerly as Jens reached for his jeans, sliding open the button, pulling down the zipper a little too slowly. They didn’t have time to go slow, to take their time tonight.

“You did this on purpose,” Jens said as he tugged at Lucas’ jeans, tighter than normal, harder to get off.

Lucas grinned, lifting his hips to help Jens get his jeans off, peeling them down his legs and shoving them off the bed.

“I thought you’d like them,” he said simply as Jens got his hands on Lucas’ warm thighs, sliding up and nudging his legs apart, mouth watering slightly at the tent in Lucas’ boxer-briefs.

“Like I’d like the eyeliner?” Jens asked, arching an eyebrow, watching the way Lucas smirked.

“Do you?”

It was a stupid question, Jens thought as he hauled himself up, draped himself over Lucas as Lucas’ legs wrapped around him. Lucas already knew the answer, and Jens didn’t have to say it as he licked into Lucas’ mouth, swallowing Lucas’ soft moan as their hips rocked together.

“You’re a tease,” he said, grimacing as heat shot through him, biting his lip as Lucas nodded against his throat, leaving a dark bruise there.

“You like it,” was all Lucas said, breathed into his skin as Jens cursed and gripped his hips tighter.

He did like it, Jens admitted, closing his eyes against Lucas’ mouth on his neck, the slide of his tongue, worrying of his teeth. He liked everything Lucas was willing to do for him.

They didn’t have time to linger on the feelings, Jens’ feelings when Lucas’ hands gripped his waist, pushed his hips up, asking for more.

“Why are you still wearing pants?” Lucas muttered a second later, impatient fingers grasping at his zipper, and Jens couldn’t help but laugh as he helped Lucas push them down, over his hips.

“I thought you liked them,” Jens mocked, kicking his jeans somewhere onto the floor, sucking in a sharp breath as Lucas’ fingers dug into his hips, pressing their cocks together in a rush of heat that made Jens’ brain go fuzzy.

Lucas didn’t reply except to exhale slowly as their hips rocked together, a slow, heady rush through Jens’ body as he moved on top of Lucas. It had been too long, and Lucas was too hot for Jens to slow down.

“Fuck, Jens,” Lucas gasped, and Jens tried to imagine Lucas doing this all those months ago when they’d first met, tried to imagine the look Lucas was giving him now, so full of desire that it made Jens’ mind go blank. He liked this side of Lucas, the side that wasn’t afraid to ask for what he wanted, to pull Jens’ hips in tighter and bite back his moan, as if he wanted it so badly. Wanted to feel Jens all around him—his lips, his tongue, his hands, his cock.

“I don’t have any—” Jens said, lost in Lucas’ mouth for a minute as Lucas kissed him, pulling him in tight.

Kissing Lucas was always like drowning, Jens thought, but in a good kind of way, a kind of way he never wanted to end. He’d always thought kissing a guy would be different than kissing a girl, but it really wasn’t. What was different was the way Lucas wasn’t afraid, wasn’t hesitant to press back, take control and roll them over so he was on top.

Jens liked Lucas on top, liked being able to see every inch of him in the moonlight pressing through the open window. He liked the way Lucas pressed kisses down his chest, pausing to let his tongue slide over Jens’ nipple, suck a bruise against his rib cage.

Hissing out a breath, Jens’ hands landed on Lucas’ ass, tight as he listened to Lucas’ noise as he pulled away from his stomach. He didn’t have a condom or lube or any of those things he should have. He just had his dick throbbing in his boxers when Lucas shifted against him.

“Luc,” he managed to say as Lucas’ hand slid down his stomach, gliding along the trail of hair disappearing under his boxers.

“When we go back to your place,” Lucas said slowly, and Jens closed his eyes as Lucas’ hand wrapped around his dick, sliding it out of his boxers. His fingers were soft but his grip firm, and Jens swallowed down the heat rising on his skin. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t see straight.”

Jens nodded, too eagerly, practically coming at the thought of sliding deep inside Lucas, Lucas’ legs wrapped around his hips, the noises Lucas made when he was trying to keep quiet.

Right now, though, Lucas had his cock in his hand, moving too slowly to quite get him off. He opened his eyes at a new feeling, something hotter than Lucas’ hand pressed against his dick.

It was Lucas, Lucas’ cock sliding against his. Everything was slick with precome, achingly hard as Jens sucked in a breath, licking his lips.

“Come here,” Jens breathed, tugging Lucas to him, capturing his mouth in a rough kiss, teeth and tongues, unfinessed, panted breath between them as Lucas’ hand slid their pricks together.

Jens wasn’t going to last long, not after all this, not with Lucas’ chest hot against his, blood rushing to his cock as it slid against Lucas’. He wasn’t going to last long with his hands tight around the back of Lucas’ neck, biting back his groan, pressing his mouth under Lucas’ ear, dragging his teeth along his jaw.

“Jens,” Lucas breathed, meeting his mouth for a slow, sloppy kiss, more panting together than anything.

Jens couldn’t wait until they got back to his house, until he could take his time pressing kisses all down Lucas’ body, until he was hot all over, begging for Jens to fuck him. But they didn’t have time, not right now, and Jens couldn’t hold on anyway as the pressure coiled in his stomach.

“Luc, I’m—” He cut himself off as he came, sharp, a wave of heat crashing over his body. Sucking in a breath, he let the feeling wash over him, the prickle on his skin, the relief as he came down, cock still pressed to Lucas’, tight in his hand.

Lucas’ cheeks were red, flushed as Jens rubbed his thumb over his jaw, pressed their foreheads together and kissed Lucas hard as he felt Lucas’ body shake, felt Lucas’ release on his stomach, hot and sticky.

“You should wear eyeliner more often,” Jens said as Lucas slumped against him, hot breath on his shoulder.

“Probably not a good idea if this is what happens,” Lucas said after a minute, sighing contently and not moving even though they should probably get dressed before someone tried to barge in.

Smiling, Jens raked his fingers through Lucas’ hair, damp with sweat near his forehead. He pressed an easy kiss to Lucas’ temple as they lay there.

“You want to check out the party?” he asked finally, and Lucas made a vague noise.

“Or we could go back to your place,” he said, glancing up, something mischievous in his eyes.

“Fuck,” Jens said, laughing as he rolled Lucas onto his back. “You’re insatiable.”

Lucas merely grinned, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. It did things to Jens’ body that he couldn’t explain, made his cock twitch interestedly even though he’d just come, would need a few minutes to recover.

“Is that a yes?”

Jens wasn’t going to argue, kissing Lucas firmly and pushing off his chest. “Yes, it’s a yes, you idiot.”

As they dressed a minute later, Jens couldn’t help watching Lucas, eyes on his ass as he pulled up his jeans, and he didn’t get embarrassed when Lucas caught him looking. Lucas didn’t say anything, though, buttoning up his shirt and nodding at the door.

Jens tugged on his shirt, catching Lucas at the door, pressing his lips to the back of Lucas’ neck, just below his hairline and exhaling slowly.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he murmured, watching Lucas unlock the door and pause before pulling it open.

Over his shoulder, Lucas smiled easily, reaching back for Jens’ hand as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

“Let’s get out of here,” was all he said, and Jens didn’t argue at all, keeping their fingers twined together as they headed down the stairs and left the party. They had a better party to go to with just the two of them anyway.

#van der stoffels #skam nl #wtfock #my fic

[alyssamski1320]

Breaking the Ice

Platonic Prinxiety (just your traditional “enemies to best friends” trope)

Warnings: None

Word count :1737 words

Summary: Figure skater/hockey player AU; Roman is a star hockey player and Virgil is a talented figure skater. They have always had this turmoil between them, but can that all change?

A/N: Ok so I had to write a creative writing piece for my first english paper. I saw this as a challenge to write my first fanfic. It is also kind of super descriptive because my professor said to keep the dialogue to a minimum, so I am sorry about that. I accept constructive criticism, so please dm me or comment anything if you want to!

Virgil Sanders opened the front door to be greeted by the brisk morning air. The start of a new season was ready to be tackled with no limitations holding him back. He was five foot nine with a raggedy purple fringe and deep brown eyes with black eyeliner smudged underneath. The teen hurried down the driveway with autumn leaves crunching beneath every step his black Converse took. He excitedly threw his purple backpack, covered in pins and patches, into the back seat of his black Jeep Wrangler.  After rolling his windows down and plugging in his phone to play some Mayday Parade, Virgil sped off to the rink for practice.

Immediately upon opening the metal double doors, Virgil was hit softly by a rush of cool air. Walking into the warm room of the rink to be greeted by familiar smiles and friendly faces was already making his day. He eagerly unzipped his bag and pulled out his pitch black skates with a new set of sharp purple Paramount blades attached. In the background, conversations between the other skaters could be heard, but he wasn’t paying attention enough to decipher them. The loud music playing in his single earbud was enough to take him away from the world, even if it were only for a moment. All he wanted was to hear his deep edges rip into the freshly cut ice as he shifted his weight from the inside and outside of his blade. Before that, Virgil would appreciate the smooth glide that he could flawlessly hold on the bright, pristine ice prior to the hockey teams that would soon come to dig and chop it up. He had nothing against the local hockey teams, but the disrespect they showed towards the rink staff, figure skaters, and even the ice itself was maddening. The holes they left were almost the sizes of baseballs, the ridges they cut so deep that simply gliding over them could no longer be an option, and the constant mouth guards left along the boards, still dripping soggily with warm saliva. The thought of the latter making him shudder with complete disgust.

Even with the cool chill radiating from the ice’s surface, Virgil was still fairly warm. Being a figure skater, you become almost immune to the cold and learn to never forget a jacket. The boy had forgotten only once and now arrives prepared wearing his trademark hoodie every practice, his favorite article of clothing in his closet. It was a black zip-up hoodie covered in purple and black plaid patches. The patches were scattered among the hoodie, lazily stitched on with white thread and on the front was his club’s logo, a storm cloud, embroidered with purple thread.

Eventually, the teen stopped by the boards to take a break, but that was when he felt eyes on him. He knew he wasn’t the only skater on that session, but the piercing stare he could feel, even with his back turned, was too much to let go. Virgil whipped around, stumbling over his skates as an old friend startled him. He didn’t even know if he could call Roman a friend because Roman Prince wasn’t a figure skater, he played center forward for the Sudro City Knights. The teen stood tall at six foot one and had neatly groomed mocha locks, his light brown eyes staring down the anxious boy. The cheap, damaged practice jersey he was wearing reeked of pure body odor from the weeks of wear without wash. After the couple seconds, which seemed like forever for poor Virgil, the taller boy leaned in close with a smug look plastered on his face.

“Hiya Dr Doom and Gloom.” Roman teased, leaning his stick up against the glass and sitting back onto the benches. “What is the purple ballerina going to dance to this year?  Hopefully another song from Beetlejuice the Musical! I do enjoy you looking even more edgy than usual.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, clearly not amused. “Oh, what a laugh Princey. Ya know, I would love to really see you try what I do.” The purple clad boy stated, folding his arms and leaning his chest against the boards. “I don’t even think you’re coordinated enough to do a two foot spin.” The stunned and anger-filled look that washed over Roman’s features gave him the exact answer he needed.

“Alright, that’s it mister Jack Smellington!” Roman rapidly stood up, grabbing his stick and towering over the smaller teen. “Meet me back here after hours and we’ll really see who the best is!”

“I’ll be back don’t you worry. As long as you don’t pull a Tonya Harding on me, I’ll be glad to show you how to really skate!” Virgil grabbed his now empty water bottle from the boards and skated away, shooting the star player a shit-eating grin. By the time he got off the ice and closed the heavy door behind him, the scratches of the rest of the team could be heard as they jumped the boards for practice. He quickly unlaced his skates, swiping the snow off of his blades and wiping off the excess water droplets with his old, black rag.

The skates were packed away as he walked out of those same metal double doors and climbed into his car. Before pulling away, Virgil checked his phone to see an unusual text: I’ll pick you up for our little match up later. You’re on my way to the rink, so be ready by 7 or I’m leaving without you. Shocked by the text, he closed his phone, rolling his windows down again and proceeding to play the rest of his Mayday Parade playlist on his drive home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Virgil was waiting for Roman to pull up, he pulled out his phone to play Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional while he scrolled through Tumblr. Right when he opened the app, the hockey player in his beat-up silver Chevy Cruze, blasting Brave New Girl by Britney Spears, rolled up into his driveway. Roman screamed before Virgil could even close his front door, “Get in loser, we’re going to the rink!”

          Virgil threw his backpack into the back seat and hesitantly hopped into the car. Although Roman played hockey, his car was fairly clean and his front seat had a very distinct smell compared to the back, where their skates were lazily thrown. The front of the car had a small hint of vanilla while the back seat had a scent of exactly what you can imagine, pure body odor from his balled-up practice jersey. The short drive to the rink felt like ages passed as the boy silently watched the scenery unfold outside of his window, laying his face in the palm of his hand. Upon stopping at a red light, he was startled out of his awkward, yet serene state he was in from a light nudge at his ribs. He looked over to find Roman kindly smiling at him, which was very unusual between the two.

          “Are you okay, Hot Topic? You’ve been pretty quiet the whole ride.” Virgil was stunned by the sudden change in Roman’s attitude. He was just insulting him early that same day. “I know we fight and all, but the least you can do is keep me a little company.” The smaller teen almost frowned, feeling a little bad for his actions. Maybe he genuinely wanted to change?

          He forced a small smile onto his normally brooding face, although the other could not see this with his attention on the road. “Yea I’m ok, don’t worry about it.”

          Upon arrival, they both grabbed their bags and walked into the rink, smiling at each other. Roman was wearing a white hoodie with a knight on it, his mascot, and black Adidas sweatpants with three white stripes straight down the sides. Virgil matched Roman, except he was wearing his traditional black and purple patchwork zip-up.  They stepped onto the ice and without a word Virgil set himself to work. He started at one end, gliding and connecting with the ice. With every bracket, twizzle, and step he took throughout his footwork, he let the ice take control. Each edge was deep, delicately ripping into the ice and sending him closer to the opposing side. Right before reaching the boards, he pushed into an outside mohawk, gaining speed as every crossover sounded through the rink. Roman was still standing at the door, astonished by the normally quiet and anxious boy. Lastly, Virgil was set, gliding on his back outside edge, and leaped into an axel, landing the one and a half revolution jump in a solid landing position. The teen flawlessly turned forward and slid into a sharp hockey stop, hitting Roman with a spray of cool snow. “So, can you top that Dr Do-The-Most?” Virgil looked up at him with a playful gleam in his eyes despite the antagonizing smirk that plagued his features. The taller teen was still in shock, but he eventually snapped out of it and smiled at the other.

“Now I see why you always made comments about out skating me. You truly are amazing Virgil!” The smirk never left the other’s face, the satisfaction from the statement only making it grow.

“You could always quit hockey. I know you may not want to and this is a bit of a stretch, but at least take this into consideration” Roman’s attention was gripped by the bold statement the smaller boy just made. “You’re pretty strong and you already know the basics of skating. You would make a great pair skater with some practice.” Virgil’s anxiety peaked and the other could tell. Now, he was not opposed to skating with Virgil, but hockey was his life. After a minute or two of silence, the taller teen lightly gripped the anxious boy’s shoulder, forcing his eyes off of the ice and into Roman’s. A steady gaze connected the two alone on the ice.

“Would you be my partner if I quit hockey?” Virgil was in complete shock, leading him to just rapidly nod his head and immediately wrap his arms around Roman, closing the gap between them. Their shared warmth made the cool air seem almost nonexistent.

He took back his statement from earlier about the taller boy. After years of fighting through high school, Virgil Sanders realized he definitely could call Roman Prince a friend.

#the sanders sides #sanders sides #ts roman #ts virgil #roman #virgil #prinxiety #figure skating #hockey #tss #tssides #ts sides #sanders sides au #fanfic #fanfiction

[im-actually-ok]

Can you do Loceit with the prompt “May I have this dance?”

Will do! Thanks for the ask! ok I accidentally read this as Logince, oops, sorry, I’ll do another for you if you’d like, please send in another, I’ll try to get it right 😅

May I Have This Dance?

Prompt: May I have this dance?

Prompt Post: X

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Logince

Word Count: 695

Genre: TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Warnings: Kissing (I think that's it, tell me if I missed anything!)

_________

It was a calm day, Patton was off doing something or other and Virgil was in his room, Roman was working in his room, so that meant Logan had the living room all to himself. He was stretched out on the couch, reading in the late afternoon light.

“Good evening all! I- um, where is everyone?” Logan looked up to see Roman on the stairs, looking over extravagant as all.

He let his eyes drift back to the page in front of him, “Not sure about Patton, but Virgil is in his room.”

“Oh, so it’s just you and me?”

“You know, you could at least pretend to enjoy my company,” Logan stated, eyes fixed on the words that he admittedly was not paying attention to anymore. No, of course he wasn’t upset. He didn’t care what Roman thought of him.

“No! No I didn’t mean it like that, I just,” Logan rested his book open faced on his chest, watching as Roman rubbed the back of his neck, a slight blush coming to his face, “It’s been a while since it’s been just us, ya know?”

“I suppose that’s true, would you like to -- ‘hang out’?” He used air quotes around the last words, mocking Roman’s tone.

A smile came to the other’s face, “Yeah!” He ran down the rest of the before flopping down on Logan’s lap, “What do you think about ‘Sleeping Beauty’?”

A vibrant blush came to Logan’s face, “Ok, first of all, get off me, second, ‘Sleeping Beauty’ will be fine.”

Roman’s light blush became deeper as he moved off of Logan’s lap, “Oh, yeah, sorry,”

‘He’s probably just embarrassed,’ Logan thought as he went to place his book on the coffee table in front of them, moving into an upright position next to Roman.

They barely got into the movie before Roman sprang up off the couch when ‘Once Upon A Dream’ began to play.

“Oh! I love this song!” He said, offering Logan a hand, “May I have this dance?”

Logan’s heart leapt into his throat, “I, um, I can’t dance.”

Roman rolled his eyes, “Come on nerd! Dance with me!” he grabbed Logan’s hands, pulling him off the couch, resting a hand on his hip and grasping Logan’s hand in his other.

Logan felt his face go hot, the space between them was infinitesimal as Roman led him in a waltz around the living room. His movements were fluid and natural opposed to Logan’s ridgid, nervous steps.

Roman hummed softly along with the movie, gazing fondly down at the flustered man in his arms. Roman had always imagined what dancing with Logan would be like, not that he'd ever admit that though. He chuckled softly at the deep blush on Logan’s face.

Logan looked down at his feet, trying to avoid Roman’s eyeline.

“You alright?”

He looked back up, startled a bit. Logan had never seen the stars in Roman’s eyes before, “I just-- AH!” He yelped, tripping over his own foot.

He braced himself for the impact that would come with hitting the floor, but it never came. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw that Roman had caught him, holding him in a dipped position. They stayed like that for a minute, staring into eachothers eyes. It was in an instant, but Logan could barely process. Roman’s lips were on his own, holding him close.

Logan’s eyes widened, he pushed away from Roman, breaking the kiss and staggering away. He took in a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before turning back to Roman. Roman’s eyes were wide as he realized what he had done, his face completely red.

“I-” He started, “Logan, I’m so sorry, I just thought, I didn’t--”

Logan cut him off, pulling Roman down by his collar into another kiss which Roman melted into. He moved his hand up, cupping Logan’s cheek, pulling him in closer.

When they finally broke the kiss, Logan let out a sigh, “Wow, just, wow.”

“Not too bad yourself Pocket Protector.”

“Ahem,” They both turned to face the door, “Well isn’t this a sight,” Virgil gave Patton a small nudge, “You owe me a dollar.”

_______

This was SO MUCH FUN TO DO! Thank you for the ask anon!

#my writings #my writing #because i can #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince #virgil sanders #patton sanders #ask #asks #anonomous ask #request

[stars-and-rose]

What is this feeling?(hint, it’s not loathing)

First things first: I am working on the superhero au! I'm about 3k words in the first chapter. But I found @thelowlysatsuma 's prompt-thingy, and well, I have the impulse control of a chicken nugget.

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality if you squint

Summary: Even since Virgil moved into his new apartment, he's heard his next-door neighbor sing Broadway songs. Then, he does the unspeakable- he joins in on his neighbor's duet.

Word Count: 1,559

Trigger Warnings: Cursing

Virgil threw the door to his apartment open, tossing off his bag as he shut the door behind him. His apartment still smelled like cinnamon, a nod to the previous owner. Virgil has just moved into the apartment a few weeks back, and the smell still hadn’t faded.

Oh well. It could have been worse.

Virgil picked up the bag from the floor, taking out the new paintbrushes he’d bought, along with a few new watercolors. Things were looking up for him, honestly- he was so glad he took up his brother's offer.

Virgil's older brother and his newly wedded husband had opened up their own bookstore and needed at least one other employee to help run the place before opening. Virgil had agreed to take the position and had moved cross country to New York City to help them open. The place had become a booming success (Virgil swore it was because his brother-in-law sold his baked goods at the store along with the books), and that led Virgil to be able to replace some of his older supplies and buy some new ones as well.

The dark-haired boy slipped off his work-shirt and settled into an old sweatshirt that was already decorated with paint stains. Brushing off old papers and a bottle of black nail polish (which reminded him that he needed to repaint his chipping nails) from his desk, Virgil grabbed a fresh piece of paper and started sketching his latest commission.

Then he heard the singing.

Even though Virgil had lived in the apartment for a few weeks now, he still hadn’t met any other his neighbors. However, the owner of the apartment on his left had made his presence known. Virgil hadn’t met him face-to-face, but he’d heard the man sing. At least once a day, Virgil’s neighbor burst into song, singing Broadway show tunes as he did whatever he was doing, and the apartment walls didn’t do much to mute the sound. Virgil would have complained, but his neighbor was a crazy talented singer. Who was Virgil to deny himself a free concert?

Today, the man was singing a song Virgil knew well. His senior year in high school, the school performed the show Wicked, and the president of the drama club had practically begged Virgil to paint the sets. Virgil had agreed and often painted while the cast was practicing. The songs had ingrained themselves into Virgil's head, and he could remember them word for word to this day.

Including "What is this Feeling?" which was what his neighbor was belting out.

The man was currently singing, "Unusually and exceedingly peculiar

And altogether quite impossible to describe..."

As the other man held out Galinda's line, Virgil couldn't help himself. He sang Elphaba's response, "Blonde."

Virgil heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the wall. Oh shit, had Virgil ruined the other man's song? Then, he heard the man continue, "What is this Feeling, So sudden and new?"

Well, Virgil was obligated now. He dropped his pencil and looked at the wall between him and his surprise new duet partner. "I felt the moment, I laid eyes on you."

"My pulse is rushing!"

"My head is reeling!"

"My face is flushing!"

"What is this feeling?" Virgil's voice mixed with his neighbor's, and to Virgil's surprise, they actually sounded good together.

"Fervid as a Flame, Does it have a name?

Yes! Loathing! Unadulterated Loathing!"

"For your face!" Virgil could practically hear the smile in the other's voice.

"Your voice." Virgil couldn't help but let a grin of his own form on his face as he responses

"Your clothing!" Virgil joined back in, singing along to his partner's "Let's just say, I loathe it all!"

The two continued the song, Virgil singing Elphaba's part and his neighbor singing Galinda's. During the part that required it, they sang in unison on the student's part. There was something magical about the moment, randomly bursting into song like they were actually in a Broadway show themselves.

Then the magic was shattered.

It was right before the climax of the song, and Virgil and his duet partner both went for the higher harmony, Virgil surprising himself by his ability to hit the note. Abruptly, his neighbor stopped singing, and yelled, "Galinda absolutely sings the top harmony on that you bastard!"

Honestly, Virgil was so startled by the sudden change of noise, he didn't even register himself screaming back, "In your dreams asshat!"

Virgil heard loud footsteps echoing from his neighbor's apartment. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. That had been surprisingly fun, but it was over now. Virgil was about to go back to the commission when he heard knocking booming from his door.

Virgil sighed, pushing himself out of his chair. He opened his door, surprised to see a guy bout his age standing there. Just as Virgil was going to ask who the hell the guy was, the stranger waved his phone around, saying, “I have the lyric video pulled up right here, let me in so I can prove you wrong!”

Oh. So he was Virgil neighbor/mystery duet partner.

Virgil, feeling a weird mix of annoyance, self-righteousness, and amusement, shot back, “Come in then, and prepare to eat your words.”

The two of them sat down at Virgil's tiny kitchen table. Virgil's neighbor set his phone between them. As he started the video, both he and Virgil stared at the phone like it was the only thing that mattered. Virgil's apartment was filled with "What is this feeling" for the second time that day.

Both boys kept their attention on the sound, waiting for the exact line in the song. When it came, Virgil triumphantly shouted, "Ha! It's not Galinda, suck it!"

His neighbor crossed his arms. "Well, Elphaba doesn't sing it either so you can eat my ass."

Virgil snorted. "It was the fucking ensemble. We're both dumbasses."

For some reason, that sent the boy across from him to giggles, and soon enough, Virgil was laughing alongside him.

When he finally stopped, Virgil took a moment to study his neighbor. The first thing he noticed was that the guy was freaking blond; the irony was making Virgil want to start laughing again. His neighbor had soft green eyes, and he was definitely wearing eyeliner. And possibly lipgloss, but Virgil was going to resist temptation and avoid staring at the other's lips. The boy's honey skin was dotted with freckles, and he had a pencil thrown half-hazardly behind his ear. A loose red sweatshirt hung off his right shoulder, revealing what Virgil assumed was a tattoo peeking out from under the fabric.

In short, the guy was really fucking hot.

While Virgil was looking over the guy, it seemed the other was doing the same, a faint red brushing against his cheeks. "You know, I never got your name."

"I'm Virgil, you are?"

"The name's Roman." The boy drummed his fingers on the table, displaying his red painted nails. "Now, Virgil... I think there's a three o'clock showing of Wicked this Friday."

Virgil arched an eyebrow and prayed his cheeks didn't heat up, "Are you asking me on a date?"

"I mean, yeah, you're pretty cute and you gotta be an interesting person if you randomly join into a duet, and I'm probably overstepping because I have no idea if you're single or gay, but hey, gotta risk it for the biscuit, right?"

Virgil stared at him and then burst into laughter. The other boy crossed his arms, looking mildly embarrassed. Virgil took a shaky breath, attempting to stop laughing long enough to respond. “How is it humanly possible to talk that fast?"

Roman huffed, "I talk as fast as I think."

"Clearly. But lucky for you, I'm both free on Friday and extremely gay."

Roman visibly brightened; he gave Virgil a smile that could have powered the entirety of New York. "Is that your way of saying yes?"

Virgil shrugged, “My brother says I need to get out more, and luckily for me, a really hot boy just rolled in and asked me out, so yeah, why not?"

The blond continued to beam, leaning over the table and grabbing Virgil's hand. He flinched at the sudden contact, but the other had warm hands, much warmer than Virgil’s own, so Virgil didn't pull away. He was simply stealing Romans heat, that was all.

Then, Virgil almost choked because Roman pulled his hand up to his lips and kissed it like he was a prince out of a fairytale. Virgil's ears flamed as the other boy dropped his hand. "It's settled then. I'll come around at two on Friday?"

By some miracle, Virgil was able to keep himself put together. "Sounds good, Prince Charming."

Wait a hot second, what did he just say?

Roman laughed, but Virgil caught the red on his cheeks becoming more vibrant. He stood, stretching, and grinned at Virgil. "Alright then, see you in two days, My Dark-Eyed Beauty."

And with that, Virgil was alone in his apartment, the door slowly swinging shut. He honestly couldn't move; he just stared down at his hand, at the faint kiss printed there. (It seemed Roman was indeed wearing lip gloss).

"Dark-Eyed Beauty? Nice reference." Virgil muttered, before reaching for his phone. His fingers flew, typing a familiar number. It took two rings for the line to connect. "Lo, holy shit, you aren't going to fucking believe this."

(i highkey want to write a sequel because a) Wicked date!!! sounds adorable, emily write that down. b) cute married couple logicality??? and c) purely so I can describe Virgil the way I described Roman-)

#sander sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #background logicality #im noticing a trend here #modren au #virgils an artist #romans a writer #broooooadway #prinxiety au #sander sides au #sander sides fanfic #emily writes #i love the chaotic gays you can pry them from my cold dead fingers #logan sanders #WICKED! #fluff #what else is new #cursing tw

[vampqueersarchive]

In a World Uncertain, Say You’ll be my Stone

Okay this is a original fic by me im sorry if its shit i was listening to an Alessia Cara song when I wrote this and used Troye songs in this as well idk its cute and i love it

Rating: G Word count: 4,427 Warnings: Accidental outing Summary: Freddie a makeup youtuber and his best friend Reese a singer decide to fake date after Freddie accidentally outs himself aka FRIENDS TO BOYFRIENDS (This is straight up fluff yo!)

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An annoying buzz was the first thing Freddie heard, a buzz he wanted to stop. Turning over with a groan he pulled his phone to his face, seeing his sister Katherine's name blinking across the too-bright screen. With weak still slow from sleep hands he finally answered with a sigh. "Hello-" He started voice gruff from just waking up. "You have got some explaining to do Mr." Katherine started in a soft, yet demanding tone. "Mum is going to kill you!" "Kat, the love of my life, Mum can kill me later, it's too early." He mumbled sleepily turning his face into the plush pillow. "Freddie, you're on the front page of every magazine, they caught you kissing Hayden." At that moment Freddie felt everything well up in his throat, suddenly all the drinks he had the night before had turned against him. He felt moments away from crying but also getting sick. "No..." he trailed off, "It can't be." he half-whispered to himself and his sister. "Kat, tell mum I'll call later." without letting her reply, he hung up his almost dead iPhone and did what he couldn't do on the phone. Freddie let himself cry, he couldn't believe he let himself get so absorbed into the night before. He could not believe he did what he promised himself he would never do until he felt that the time was right.

Freddie Barnes outed himself.

It wasn’t the fact that Freddie wanted to stay in the closet or the fact that he didn’t feel comfortable being himself. Hell no! That wasn’t Freddie, as most of Freddie's friends could attest to Bi Pride day he wore pink, lavender and blue as if his life depended on it. People. Biphobic people, homophobic people, transphobic, aphobic, nonbinaryphobic people were the ones he couldn’t handle. As strong as Freddie was he couldn’t handle all the hate that would be directed to him. Freddie knew the feeling all too well, back in Doncaster when he came out and all of his friends left him abandoned. Then a few years ago when his best friend came out and the internet flooded with so much love, but love is always drowned out by the unbearable hate. “Hayden,” Freddie spoke in a small brittle voice. Hayden Sanders his best friend who had to deal with all this hate long before, now getting even more all because of a drunken truth or dare game. All because of me Freddie thought to himself, It’s all your fault. Before Freddie could get any more down on himself a soft knock came from the other side of his door. “Come in” he softly spoke trying not to give the person an indication that he had been crying for the better part of an hour. Hayden slowly stepped through the door, looking about as rough as Freddie did. His long curls in an unruly heap that was meant to be a bun. Tear stain’s running from the waterline of his lashes, in long unforgiving streaks down to his chin. His clothes a wrinkled mess, still in the same outfit from the previous night. And worst of all he refused to meet Freddie gaze. “Hayden please look at me.” Freddie pleaded, his wobbly voice betraying him. However, Hayden still would not look into his eyes, he shuffled across the room towards Freddie bed taking Freddie tight in his arms and releasing the sobs Hayden tried so hard to keep in. This sent Freddie reeling, only tangling his fingers into Hayden’s lilac jumper, sending the tears he tried to hold back down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry Fredd.” Hayden whispered in his thick low voice. “I am so sorry.” Either of them could say any words, they only curled closer into the embrace. ~ It felt as though days past when Freddie woke up to the sound of glass clacking together. Sleepily rubbing the sleep from his eyes, pulling himself out of his large round bed and going to look for Hayden. With each step on the cold hardwood floor, Freddie remembered the hours before. The call from Katherine, another step Outing himself, another step Hayden coming crying, another step After being hit with a repeat of everything Freddie quickly made his way to his small kitchen, only to be face to face with Hayden. Hayden wasn’t himself, his usual bright cheeky smile reached his eyes. But now his eyes were dull, and his smile was just a fake one. As if he was trying to be strong for the both of them. “I made you tea, no milk like you like it,” Hayden said sliding a cup towards Freddie, placing his hands on the small island in the middle of the kitchen. “Freddie, I am so sorry. I can fix this I swear.” He pleaded, his smile faltering as his voice choked with the urge to cry. A few tetras weld up in Freddie's eyes only for him to shake his head. “H, there’s nothing you can do. What’s done is done. It was bound to happen at some point.” He shrugged, opening his arm nodding at his best friend to come in for a cuddle. “Now, all those fanfics of us will double, who knows maybe we’ll be some uni students looking for a new year’s kiss,” Freddie smirked as he sipped on his tea, causing Hayden to groan in response. “I didn’t even think of all the people that ship us. It’s rather cute though don’t you think.” Hayden mused, wrapping his arm around the small of Freddie back, making them connect seamlessly as they always do. Freddie giggled nodding, “I quite like the ones where we fake date each other to be honest. But that’s off the record Sanders.” The stern voice only to be compromised by the joyful expression, sending crinkles up to his eyes. A pleasant silence consumed the two of them before the elephant in the room became too much to bear. “Why don’t I call the lads?” Hayden suggested, looking at the wobble of Freddie's lip. “Please?” ~ Hours later and a distraction of pizza and makeovers lefts Freddie feeling better, that was until he decided to check his phone. As soon as he plugged in his rose gold iPhone, he went about his usual routine and clicked on twitter. As the app loaded Freddie nerves kicked in, dropping his phone to the ground causing Hayden, Ashton, and Liam to jump in their seats. As if in an instant, the boys were all wrapped tightly around Freddie, whispering sweet compliments into his hair. This went on until Freddie was finally calmed enough and stopped crying, mumbling a soft thank you in return. “Lads,” Hayden spoke up only nodding his head before it was just Freddie and Hayden in the room. “Freddie, I have an idea.” At this moment Freddie was up for any idea, that even included running through the streets of London with a bi-colored suit that read out “Freddie Barnes Is Bi” in big glittery letters. “Freddie I think we should fake date.” “Fake date?!?” Freddie screeched. “Hayden you have got to be kidding me, you finally got over all this hate about you being pan. You can finally kiss whoever you want in your videos without being bombarded with hate. Why would you do that?” Freddie whispered, looking down at his lap in defeat. “Fredd, I know how it feels going through this alone. I know how scary it can be, Freddie I don’t want my best friend to ever feel the same thing I did. Please let me help you for once.” Racking his brain with every negative outcome that could happen, Freddie suddenly was met with the widest pair of bright green eyes he had ever seen. At that moment Freddie knew all of his hindsight went out the window. “Okay, Hayden.” - It took Freddie a 30 minute laughing fit, followed by incoherent whispers of “I’m going to pretend to date my best friend” before anyone started to worry. Liam tried to help by bringing Freddie out some tea with lavender, to calm his nerves. While all the laughing made Ashton anxious and thus started to laugh too, causing Hayden to have to take a video of Ashton’s full out hollowing. When Liam finally came back in and connived Freddie to drink the tea, the room became far more relaxed. “So, someone please fill us in on what just caused all of that?” Ashton sounded horse from the laughing fit he just put himself through. “Hayden asked Freddie to fake date him,” Liam replied simply as Hayden nodded next to him. As soon as Liam spoke the hot tea came full force back out of Freddie's mouth in a spit take, sending him into a coughing fit. “Wait you knew?” Freddie coughed out. Liam just shrugged taking a sip of the tea he made for himself. “Who do you think gave him the idea? Look, Barnes, before you get all upset it’s better for the both of you. Coming at this purely from a pr standpoint, you can come out, be happy about your self, Hayden can spend more time with you, and either of you have to deal with any of the hate alone.” Ashton nodded, “Plus that means we can finally tweet about all the adorable shite you two do before you started to date.” He chipped in adding air quotes around ‘date’. “Fredd,” Hayden stated, “It’s the least I can do for you, and you have already done so much for me.” It took Freddie sometimes to think over it before he finally managed to agree. “So what’s our plan?” ~ Freddie knew exactly how this was going to go down, a simple coffee date, a few pap pictures, they hold hands news hits the stands, and then Freddie makes his coming out video. Even though having it all written down on paper helped, it also really didn’t. Things weren’t that simple. Freddie knew if they didn’t make this look believable enough it could all come shattering down around them. His nerves were in high gear making it almost impossible to even fill his brows properly much less try to do a flawless winged eyeliner. Holding up his rose lip liner from NYX he noticed his hands shaking making him even more nervous for the day. Adding his pink macaroon butter gloss, and then adding subtle glittered highlighter Freddie knew he was going to do this. And he was going to be the best fake boyfriend anyone could ever be. Well, that was until Freddie arrived at the coffee place. It was a small hole in the wall place that of course, Hayden would pick out. It looked like a try-hard hipster place that just didn’t feel right, maybe it was the deception he was about to do, or just the place itself but Freddie wasn’t sure about the plan any longer. As if on cue Hayden was right next to him, smiling his wide dimpled grin that melted the heart of everyone Hayden met, and Freddie could not be any more thankful for it at that moment. “H, what if we can’t do this?” Freddie whispered, trying to make sure that his fear didn’t lace his voice. Hayden only grinned wider in response, “I got you, I’ll keep you afloat.” Freddie felt his nerves melt instantly. His hands were no longer shaking, his racing heart slowly coming down to a soft tempo and everything clicking into place. - The date went much the same as any other time Freddie and Hayden are together, at least one picture of the other doing something silly, tons of banter and a few compliments (but of course Freddie still had to make at least one jab, now that Hayden is famous he doesn’t need an ego), and of course plenty of platonic kissing and cuddles. Now it felt so much more forced, causing Freddie to shy away every time Hayden’s hand lingered a bit too long. “Fredd,” Hayden spoke up trying to distract him from any negativity he may be having. “It’s just me it’s okay.” He tried to console only to make Freddie shy away more. “H, it just doesn’t feel right, it’s not for us anymore it’s for everyone.” Hayden could only frown in response as the waitress came to pick up their empty cups, “I’m sorry to intrude,” she started, a thick welsh accent rolling off her tongue “Would you mind if I get a picture?” The pair looked towards each other only to be interrupted by her laughing. “No with me silly, the two of you blokes. Hayden, I’ve been listening to your stuff forever, and Freddie you are just so sweet. The both of you just make me so happy, I kinda just want to see you two the same way.” They both agreed to get up from their seats cuddling close to each other for the picture, as she took the photo Freddie looked over and seen what she meant. Hayden looked so happy to be with Freddie, his eyes light up more than the stars in the night sky. Freddie wanted to name one for Hayden at that moment, but his thought was broken when Hayden asked she send the picture to him on twitter. Freddie knew at that moment everything was going to be fine. - “Fredd,” Hayden hummed out, as they walked out hand in hand into the chilled autumn air of London. Freddie only made a nose in return nuzzling his face into the sleeve of the brown leather jack Hayden sported. The conversation, however, was abruptly halted by the sounds of the camera’s clicking, and whispers of the people behind them. Freddie could only sigh in response before he smiled up at Hayden. “Come on, Boo lets give them something to take a picture of.” Before Freddie could comprehend what was happening, Hayden had to take Freddie and twirled him around, both of them giggling and squealing with delight as their two bodies left almost no space between them. There was a clear crimson blush lining both of there cheeks as another snap went off. Maybe they could do this. ~ The next day Freddie woke up to another annoying buzz of his phone, of course, he knew exactly who it was this time. Hayden's contact name popped up on the screen, Freddie couldn't help but smile and feel so much love when he saw it. “Hel-” He was cut off by screaming in the background from none other than Ashton. “Boo,” Hayden whined into the phone. “They released the pictures and Ashton won't believe me that we aren't dating.” Even though the phone Freddie could tell he was pouting. The usual Hayden pout where he tried to look all angry yet sad, and end up just looking like an oversized toddler. “Put the wanker on the phone,” Freddie giggled rolling his eyes. The phone switched over and a very excited scream erupted through the phone. “Holy shit, Ash can you be even more excited for a little fake relationship.” “Fredd you can't lie to me. I got those Irish instincts and you lot are lying.” Ashton huffed out in pride. Freddie could only smirk at the wildness of his friend. “Yeah, yeah Mr. Ireland. Give the phone back to curls now will ya.” “Give the phone back to curls! Now that's going on twitter.” Ashton shouted as the phone was handed back to Hayden. “Boo I thought you said you were going to fix this,” Hayden said in a mock sad tone. “But it's Ash, what will ya do?” Hayden chuckled out his thick voice spoke in a slow soothing hum, sending a pleasant wave of warm down Freddie's spine. Freddie nodded humming in response before he realized why Hayden called in the first place. “Did the pictures turn out well?” “Fredd don't worry everyone is talking about them, I'm pretty sure Frayden is trending on twitter right now. But I was meaning to ask you something?” “And what would that be the love of my life?” “Hah ha very funny Fredd, but Liam thought it would be a good idea if we did more stuff together. Ya know after you make your coming out video.” That hadn't even crossed Freddie's mind having to make that video, the video where he couldn't turn back. The video where he had to lie and say his best friend was the person he was dating. “Yea,” he whispered into the phone. “Hayden can you be there when I record the video, please I need it.” “You don't have to ask Fredd, you're my best friend. Our friendship comes first.” A smile spread across Freddie's cheeks sending crinkles to the corner of his bright blue eyes. “Come over tomorrow okay?” - Freddie spends the day procrastinating, usually, that meant going on twitter but that was the last place he even wanted to look at. Instead, he decided to do something big tomorrow. He was going to do a coming outlook. Putting on his old vans and a pink knitted beanie he went to the closest drug store and found everything he needed from NYX. Picking up white eyeliner, the ultimate shadow palette, and the matte lip cream in soule, Moscow, and Paris. As he headed for the check out a young boy came up to him and hugged him without any warning. “Hi, Freddie!” The young boy chirped in excitement, “My mum is letting me get makeup thanks to you!” The boy smiled his whole face lighting up. Freddie couldn't hold back the pride he felt in helping this little boy become confident and feel okay to wear makeup. “That's amazing little lad, make sure to-” Freddie was cut off by the little boy finishing his line “Get Nyx because Nyx is best!” the boy smiled hugging Freddie one last time before he went off to get his make up. Knowing by just having his makeup channel he made that much of a difference he knew coming out could only make an even better one. ~ “Thanks for watching everyone and I'll see you next time.” Freddie smiled huffing a sigh as soon as Hayden turned off the camera. “Fredd that was amazing you did so well.” Hayden grinned opening his arms pulling Freddie into a tight hug. “But I hope you realize you're gonna have to do a pan look for the next pride.” “Nahh, you can watch the tutorial.” Freddie giggled pulling away from the hug, finally getting to look in the mirror without so much anxiety running through him. Freddie felt amazing, light pink and purple on his upper lid, flowed into a blue making his eye pop and a white-winged linger flicking out to a dramatic curve. His lips mimicking the bi flag and the sliver and purple glitter lining his cheeks. He then looked up behind him where Hayden was sanding smiling at his best friend with so much pride. “Thank you for being here, H.” “Anything for you Boo,” Hayden said his thick warm voice filling the room. “Liam wanted me to talk to you about something though.” Freddie's mood dropped instantly thinking that he would have to go through his alone. All of his fears welling upon his face as Hayden looked back over to Freddie with a frown. “Fredd, no don't worry. It's nothing bad I promise.” He said taking Freddie's hand and leading him to sit on the bed. “He said we should try kissing in front of the paps, or even when we film one of the videos or when you come to my concert with in the next two months..” He trailed off slowly toning his voice into a mumble. Freddie didn't really know how to respond. He gently squeezed Hayden's hand to try and clam him a bit. “Liam wants to make it look natural?” Freddie asked tracing his finger along the lines of Hayden's anchor. Hayden could only blush and nod, “Um... Yea.” “Well let's practice.” Freddie leaned in first, tipping his head slightly to the left as Hayden leaned to the right. They both fluttered closed, as their lips connected in what Freddie felt like a spark. Freddie hands trailed up and tangled his fingers into the ends of his curls. Hayden moved his arms to wrap around Freddie's waist. The feeling of safety and love spread throughout Freddie traveling to his fingertips. His fingers felt like sparks as he tried to pull Hayden closer when their lips worked together in what felt like a perfectly tuned orchestra playing in a beautiful symphony. To Freddie, the world felt as if the world stood still until the moment they pulled apart. The pulled apart blinking at each other in a form of shock and content, giggling like school kids who kissed their crush out in the schoolyard. A blush spread across Hayden's cheeks only causing Freddie to smile wider. “Come on, Romeo” Freddie started. “Let's film our first video.” ~ The first month went by with ease for the most part. The fans and paps loved their chemistry. They became the most talked about couple in all of 2016 Kimaye be damned. The fans loved when the two of them started to live stream, and even when Hayden made Freddie sing one of his songs. (The hashtag Frayden Sing Youth trended for almost two days.) However, with all the love came hate. Many people would come on Freddie channel and just say he was using Hayden for fame. Others would send biphobic messages to Hayden over Freddie only to get blocked in return. But for the most part, they were accepted. Ashton wasn't helping on the casual dating front though. Every time the lads were together Ashton would tweet something cute they said or even post a picture. Ashton convinced their fans at one point they were living together and adopted a kitten when he posted a picture of Freddie kissing Hayden's cheek as Hayden held up a small sphynx kitten in his hand. In all everything was starting to become Freddie life. Every Tuesday film two videos of his own and maybe one with Hayden. Wednesday was their best friend breakfast date that over the last month turned into a fake dating date. And on the weekends Freddie helped Hayden filming for his new music video series. And today was finally the release of Wild and also the day of the concert. In all Freddie felt a bubble of excitement well up. To celebrate the event Freddie and Hayden were going to do a live stream of them dying their hair matching colors before the event. It was 10 o'clock and Hayden still wasn't there. The hour soon changed over and Hayden still wasn't there. Freddie didn't know what to feel, he tried calling and it was straight to voice mail, he tried texting and no response. It was only 3 hours until the video premiere so Freddie texted once more before starting the live stream. The stream ended as the video went up and Freddie couldn't be more stressed. He kept running his hands through his new bubble gum pink hair as he refreshed his phone waiting and hoping for Hayden. But no call no text, he got nothing from Hayden. That's when the night came crashing in when Freddie got a text from Liam saying “Hayden's sorry.” - Day's went by and there was still no message from Hayden, everyone was tweeting asking when the next live stream would be, or even asking if the two of them were okay. It took a full week before Freddie shut down on himself. Every time he looked in the mirror and saw pink it made him want to shave his head. When he saw the tattoos, he had to pull on a sweater before he would start to cry. One drunken night Freddie could not hold back his feelings anymore, so he called Ashton. “Fredd, hey are you okay?” Ashton's voice seemed just weak as Freddie did until he realized it was 3 am. “Ash, I made my best friend hate me, he won't even talk to me anymore. Why did I do this? Why did I say yes to him.” Freddie sobbed before his words became incoherent. The other end of the line was quite before Freddie whispered in a wrecked voice from crying, “Ashton?” “Barnes,” Ashton started. “H fell in love with you.” ~ Freddie woke up again the same way he woke up two months prior. His phone buzzing but this time it was Hayden. Freddie picked up but he couldn't talk he felt so weak like he couldn't. “Fredd,” Hayden whispered in a soft rough voice from what sounded to be crying. “Can I come in?” “Of course.” and with that, Freddie heard his front door unlock as Hayden made his way into the room. Freddie met him there opening the door and let him in. “So,” Hayden looked town paying with the hem of his pullover. “I guess the cats out of the bag.” Freddie laughed only going back to the stony expression he started with. “Don't you dare make me laugh Sanders I'm still mad at you.” the room went silent as Hayden looked up to meet Freddie's eyes. “Why didn't you tell me?” “Because, why would you love me back? You're Freddie Barnes, you are perfect and amazing, and my best friend. I never meant for it to get this far.” He said voice wobbling try to hold back his tears. “H, you're always going to be my friend, but-” “No Boo, don't 'but' me” Hayden pleaded but before he could get any more out Freddie pulled him into a kiss. “You're always going to be my friend first, and my boyfriend second.” - The two stayed intertwined for the next few hours, nothing could get in between them. They felt content in each other's arms as they talked about nothing and play with each other makeup. The two of them feeling so happy and comfortable with each other they knew it had to be fiat. It was days later when they finally deiced to post a picture. Hours before Hayden finally dyed his hair and they thought it would be the best time to show it off. The picture was posed with Freddie's pink hair and Hayden's soft mint hair as they sat cross-legged holding hands while they kissed then captioned it “Friends before anything else.”

~Fin~

#screaming #i am having a name crisis rn so no name #my writing #original work #original fiction #writing #writingblr #authors on tumblr #authors

[gaylotusthatexists]

Not A Party Person

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing: Platonic Moxiety, Platonic Prinxiety, Platonic Analogical

Summary: Roman decides to throw a surprise birthday party for his roommate, Virgil, but not all goes to plan...

Word Count: 1886

Notes: it's virgil's birthday! yay! i wrote a thing to celebrate so here's a thing, hope y'all enjoy!

Taglist: @journalanxiety​ @applecantbebothered @quietwords-loudthoughts @xx-fandom-potato-xx @trash-can-so-do-i @bunny222 @phantomofthesanderssides @everythings-coming-up-aces  @unknownanonymousgirl @tinkslittlebelle @jani-bunny54 @noahlovescoffee   @unicorndragon1-2-3 @ab-artist @honeysucklingz

ao3

It was loud. Too loud. And the lights were so bright, and the warm was so warm, and Virgil felt suffocated. Why had his roommate thought this would be a good idea? Roman knew that Virgil wasn't a party person, and yet he had planned a surprise birthday party anyway. This should have been his day.

He had somehow found himself in Roman's bedroom, curled up on the beanbag that Roman had by his window. It was soft, comforting, and with the door shut tight, Virgil could feel safe. Of course, going to his own bedroom would have made more sense, and he would have done if it hadn't been for the crowd of people standing outside his door.

How had he even got himself in this mess?

Virgil thought back to a couple days ago, when the two roommates had been sat on the sofa in their apartment, with Steven Universe on in the background - Roman had chosen it, and Virgil had pretended to be annoyed, but they both knew he secretly loved it.

"When's your birthday?" Roman asked, out of the blue.

Virgil frowned. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Just out of curiosity."

"It's, uh..." Virgil hesitated. He had only been living with Roman for a couple months, since the two had started university, but the two were close. So close. It felt as if they had known each other for far longer. It should have been a surprise that Roman didn't already know Virgil's birthday, but at the same time, Virgil had never been one for birthdays. "It's this weekend," he finally said.

"What?!" Roman screamed, causing Virgil to flinch back. "This weekend? How didn't I know that?"

Virgil merely shrugged. "I, uh, I guess it never came up in conversation?"

Roman stared at him a shock. "We need to get ready, then, if it's so soon."

"No, no, it's fine," Virgil quickly said, waving his hands around as if it signal him to stop. "Really, I don't mind. You don't need to do or get anything for me."

"It's your birthday, Verge, of course I do!" Roman retaliated.

Virgil sucked in a breath of air. "Okay, if you... if you insist." A smile grew across Roman's face. "But... nothing too extravagant, okay?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Got it!"

He guessed that Roman didn't get it, at all. Virgil didn't even know half the people at this party. All he wanted to do was sleep, but the music blasting down the corridor was still too loud. Plus, anybody could have walked through that door. It wasn't even his room!

Virgil breathed in and out, and closed his eyes, willing for the throbbing in his head to go away. At some point Roman would notice that he had gone, and he'd come to find him, and Virgil would be forced back out there. Maybe he shouldn't have come back home tonight. What had he been doing before?

His friend, Logan, worked at the coffee shop down the road from their apartment. Sometimes Virgil would go in and just chill, grab a cup of hot chocolate maybe. Logan was always there to keep him safe.

"It's your birthday today, correct?" Logan asked, as he handed Virgil his usual cup of hot chocolate.

Virgil nodded. "Yeah, but, uh, I kinda wanted to keep in on the down-low, y'know?"

"I completely understand," Logan replied, and Virgil knew he was telling the truth. "I, too, find birthdays to be... stress-inducing."

Virgil let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God, I'm not the only one."

"Still, I insist that you take this drink on the house," Logan offered.

"Are... are you sure? I have the money ready..."

"Consider it a birthday present from me."

"Huh." Virgil smiled. "Thanks, dude."

"It's no problem," Logan said, as Virgil turned around and lifted himself up to sit on the counter. Nobody else was in the coffee shop, so he was able to sit wherever he liked. Logan never protested against it.

The two sat for a while in silence. At some point, Virgil got out his phone and began to scroll mindlessly through Tumblr, whilst Logan got out his book on astronomy or something and began to read. It was slowly starting to get dark outside, but Virgil didn't move at all. Earlier that morning, Roman had requested for him to not return to the apartment until after seven, anyway. Why, Virgil didn't know, or wanted to know, really.

"Are you planning on doing anything in celebrations?" Logan inquired.

"No- God, no," Virgil replied. "Literally just sitting here is perfect. I think Roman had something planned, though."

Logan frowned. "Roman?"

"My roommate," Virgil clarified. Strange - how had Virgil not told Logan about Roman before? Surely that would be something that he would have talked about. Maybe not. To be fair, a lot of the time the two did just sit in a comfortable silence.

"Well, let me know what happens," he requested. "And, of course, you can message me if you need to."

You can message me.

Virgil brought his phone out his pocket, and just managed to navigate to his messages with Logan, typing out a quick message with shaky hands.

8:56 Virgil: help

Immediately regretting his impulsive decision to text Logan that, he threw his phone to the floor a metre or so away. He swore he heard the sound of glass cracking. That thought was proven to be correct when his phone lit up, and he saw a crack running down the centre of his screen. Great.

Light flooded into the room. Virgil heard muffled voices outside, getting louder and louder, and footsteps echoing along the wooden floor, moving closer and closer. He grabbed his phone and shoved it in his pocket, before looking up to see what had happened. The door was wide open. A dark silhouette stood in the way of the light. Somebody had entered.

"I thought I-" The person stopped. His voice was one that Virgil didn't recognise, high-pitched and clear, calming in a way. But he clearly wasn't there for Virgil. He must have heard the glass or something and came to investigate. But then he noticed Virgil, and everything had gone wrong.

The stranger approached Virgil, crouching down so that he was eye level. But the room was dark, and Virgil could barely see him. Virgil tried to shuffle further back, but he was already right up against the wall.

"Are you okay?" the stranger asked, his soft voice filled with concern.

Virgil wanted to scream. To shout. To cry. To tell him that, no, he clearly wasn't okay. He could feel his eyeliner running down his face, indicating that he must have been crying. Ugh, that would be an amazing first impression.

"I'm going to take that as a no," the man said. "Is there anybody at this party who can help?"

"It's my goddamn party," Virgil mumbled, so quietly that surely the man couldn't have heard him.

And yet, he somehow had. "Wait, are you Virgil?"

Virgil nodded, slowly.

"How come you aren't out there, havin' fun?"

Virgil just pointed out the door, before bringing his legs up and wrapping his arms around them.

"You're overwhelmed," the man guessed.

Virgil nodded.

"Would it be better if I left?" he offered, beginning to stand up.

Virgil grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

"You want me to stay?"

He nodded.

"Okay." The man sat down cross-legged, showing that he was willing to stay. "I'm Patton, by the way."

Virgil had managed to get his heartbeat back to normal, and the throbbing in his head had stopped. Maybe it was how calming Patton sounded, or just the fact that another person was there. Virgil lifted up a hand to wipe his tears away.

"Not much of a party person, huh?"

"Yeah, that, uh, that sounds right." Virgil's voice was deep and gravely, not sounding like it usually did at all. To be honest, he was almost surprised that he could speak at all.

"How come this is happening, then?"

Did this man really have to ask so many questions? Couldn't he have just left Virgil alone? Even so, Virgil still found himself replying.

"My idiot roommate thought it'd be a good idea."

"Roman, you mean?"

"No, I mean Venessa."

Patton looked confused.

"That was sarcasm. I do mean Roman."

"Oh." He laughed. "Roman is so nice, though. We've been friends for years. I'm sure if you just spoke to him-"

"I tried," Virgil interrupted. "He wouldn't let me get away with not celebrating my birthday."

Patton hummed. "Wait here a moment." He began to stand up. At first, Virgil protested, but stopped after Patton assured him that he would return.

Virgil took his phone out whilst he waited, seeing that Logan had messaged him back.

8:57 Logan: Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you want me to come round?

Virgil failed to hold back a smile. Logan really did care about him, huh. He quickly typed out a response.

9:14 Virgil: i'm fine now, don't worry. you don't need to come.

It took less than a second for Logan to respond.

9:14 Logan: Okay, that's good. Do message me if you change your mind, though.

Virgil locked his phone, just as Patton walked back into the room. The loud noises had stopped, and the lights had calmed down. Maybe it was just because Virgil was in a better place.

"Come on out," Patton said, reaching out a hand. "It's safe, I promise."

Hesitantly, Virgil touched the ends of Patton's fingertips, and allowed Patton to then wrap his fingers through Virgil's. He pulled Virgil up and helped him out the room, never taking an eye off him. Once they reached the hallway, Virgil realised that Patton was right - it was safe. Nobody, not a single person, was there. They all must have gone home.

They found Roman waiting for them on the sofa, with a Disney movie ready to play on the TV. His favourite Disney movie, as well - The Black Cauldron. Various snacks were laid out on the coffee table. Blankets covered the floor. Patton dragged Virgil over and allowed him to sit down, before pilling the blankets on top of him and sitting down next to him.

Roman wrapped his arm around Virgil's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Virgil gave him a weak smile. "It's fine. I, uh, I'm not angry at you."

"I just wish this could have gone to plan," Roman said. "I told everyone to leave, though. And set this up. Sorry it isn't much."

"Dude," Virgil said in disbelief. "This is literally all I wanted. Our movie nights are the best."

Roman let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I hope you don't mind Patton staying, though?"

"I don't mind. He's... sweet."

Patton smiled. "Really? That's what you think?"

"Yeah. What you did back there was... really great," Virgil said, burying himself deeper into the blankets. He could see Patton blushing out the corner of his eye. "But, uh, how 'bout we start the movie?"

Roman pressed play, and wrapped his arm tighter around Virgil, who proceeded to lean on his shoulder. Patton joined the huddle, stroking through Virgil's hair in a calming, swirling motion. And just like that, Virgil could finally relax. He was safe.

so there ya go! I hope y’all enjoy this :D feel free to like/reblog and all that jazz. and happy birthday to our boi virgil!

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #moxiety #prinxiety #analogical #logan sanders #my fanfiction #my fanfic #my writing #virgil's birthday

[sanders-specs]

Dunno if this counts as a main ship, since it technically isn't even Sanders Sides, but Remile (Remy[Sleep]/Emile Picani)?? Like pining, best friends Remile with a happy ending??? Pls consider. Thanks. If not, thanks anyway.

Childhood Friends 

A/N: So…i don’t know how i feel about this? My writing, not the prompt This is the first time i’ve really written these characters so they’re not perfect. I just hope all you Remile fans enjoy it. Also I’m just going to put my general tag list on here, though if i need to make a separate one for non Sanders Sides stories just let me know. 

Warnings: alcohol (they only get lightly tipsy) (if i need to add anything else, please let me know) 

tag list: @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @dan-yuna @tripleaaaqueer @lilbeanblr @helloisthisusernametaken @justanotherpurplebutterfly @alwaysmy-lilith @ilylogan @logically-trans @seas-space-and-stardust @generalfandomfabulousness @arentordinaryvillainsadorable @nico-holly

Remy strolled into the large office building, his bodyrelaxed and his messenger bag bouncing lightly against his leg. He leaned overthe reception desk and smiled at the secretary, pushing his sunglasses to thetop of his head. “Here to see Picani. You know the drill.”

The secretary—Judith, her nametag read—rolled her eyes. “Dr.Picani is currently in the middle of a session with a patient. I’ll let himknow you’re here when it is over.”

Remy groaned but he knew better than to argue—he didn’t blamethe people who needed Emile’s help, he just hated waiting. He sauntered intothe waiting room and slumped down in a chair, pulling out his phone to scrollthrough Tumblr while he waited.

“Do you know Dr. Picani?” someone in the waiting room asked.  Remy looked up to see a kid decked out inmostly black and greys, complete with a little bit of eyeliner, watching him.

“You could say that,” Remy said. “We grew up together.”

The kid raised their eyebrows. “Wow…”

“What?”

“You just don’t strike me as a pair that would work together.”

Remy smirked. “Yeah, we get that a lot.”

“So uh, can I ask what his deal is with cartoons?”

Remy glanced over at them. Emile had been pretty clear thatin times like these he didn’t want Remy talking too much about him to hispatients. Then again, this question was something Remy was pretty used toanswering.

“He just likes cartoons,” Remy shrugged, “always has. Thesame way some people really like certain kinds of music or movies.”

The kid nodded, though Remy could tell that wasn’t theanswer they were hoping for. Oh well, that was all they were going to get.Emile didn’t like his patients knowing too much about him, or anything abouthim, really, unless they specifically asked, or it related to whatever issuesthe patient needed to work out. Something about it conflicted with work.

Just then, another kid (who was he kidding, these peoplewere probably around the same age as him, but just about everyone looked like akid to him) came down the hallway, Emile following behind them.

“I still stand by the fact that Inside Out is the best,” thepatient said.

“Clearly it’s Wall-E,” Emile said, shaking his head. He sawRemy, then and grinned. “Remy! Please tell this young man that Wall-E is thefar better Pixar movie.”

“Sorry doc, that goes to Ratatouille.”

“You’re biased because the main character has your name!”

“Hell yeah I am,” Remy said with a smirk.

“I like Brave,” eyeliner kid muttered.

Emile sighed. “You’re all crazy.”

“Says the psychologist,” Remy said, getting to his feet.

Emile only gave him a fond look before turning back to hispatient. “I’ll see you next month Kai, and maybe try re-watching a movie or two.”

Kai was already headed towards the door. “It’s not gonnachange my mind.” They called before leaving.

“Well it was worth a try,” Emile said, smoothly turning tothe other patient. “Elliot, I’ll be with you as soon as I finish filing awayKai’s notes.”

“I don’t have any place else to be.”

“…okay you’re being serious, I wasn’t sure for a moment.”

Remy cleared his throat. Emile looked at him. “And Remy,what can I do for you? As happy as I am to see you, I don’t really have muchtime…”

Remy held up a hand. “I know, I was on my way home from ajob and thought I’d stop by to give you this,” he handed Emile a Starbucks cupof hot chocolate, “and this,” he dug through his bag to find what he waslooking for. It was a Steven Universe blind bag, which he handed over to his excitedlooking friend.

Emile grinned. “Aw, thanks Rem!” he threw his arms aroundRemy, making the other boy blush.

“Ah, um, yeah, anything for you. thought you’d like it.Anyway, I should get going, let you get back to work.”

“Oh, come by later! We need to catch up.”

“Yeah, sounds good. See ya later doc.” Remy flicked hissunglasses back into place. “Later babes.” He shot finger guns at Judith andElliot before sauntering out of the building, whistling.

“Alright Elliot, what would you like to start with today?” Emileasked as he sat down in his chair and Elliot sat on the couch across from him.

“was that your boyfriend? That Remy guy?”

Emile looked up in surprise at that. “Remy? Oh, no, we’re justgood friends.”

“Oh. I was just asking because you kinda looked likeboyfriends.” Elliot shrugged, but there was a small almost knowing smirk ontheir face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Elliot. Buuuuuutspeaking of boyfriends, how are you and Mitchell?”

“Deflective much,” Elliot muttered.

“I could say the same to you.”

“Elliot…”

“I know, I know, sorry. Just saying.”

“Well i appreciate your concern, but we’re here to talk aboutyou. Now, let’s talk about why Brave is your favorite Pixar movie…”

After his last patient, Emile closed the door to his officeto finish up sorting through all his notes, though his mind wasn’t really onthe filing. He was thinking about Remy, and about what Elliot had said. Emilealways thought he was good at reading body language and tone, but Remy was alwaysso…complicated. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that they’d beenfriends for so long that Remy had learned how to evade Emile’s careful gaze.

Still, though, he would think that he would know if his bestfriend was interested in him romantically…right?

Emile bit his lip as he put away the last file, then startedgathering his things to go home.

It wasn’t like Emile didn’t like Remy, he did. they’d beenfriends for as long as he could remember, and it was probably around highschool when he realized how much he liked Remy. He hadn’t been able to talk tohim about it, though, since Remy had a boyfriend at the time. then they went tocollege and Emile focused entirely on getting his doctorate degree. That andusing his newfound freedom to buy every toy and plushie he’d ever wanted as achild.

Sighing, Emile slung his bag over his shoulder and walked outof the office.

Remy lounged on Emile’s couch, a glass of wine in hand. He’dbeen waiting for Emile to get home for at least an hour. He was tempted to callhim and ask what was taking so long, but that would defeat the purpose ofsurprising him.

Maybe coming to his house when he wasn’t there wasn’t thebest idea, but Remy had been bored at his apartment. Besides, it wasn’t likethis was a new thing. They had a habit of dropping by each other’s places somuch that they both just have a spare key. They hadn’t been able to visit for awhile, though, both of them being too busy. Sometimes, Remy hated that his jobmade him travel around a lot. He did miss his friend a lot when he was gone.

Remy sighed and closed his eyes. For a moment, he let hisconfident, sassy, façade drop. He was…very tired. He desperately needed sometime with his friend, even if being with said friend brings up weird,complicated feelings. Like how Remy’s heart had fluttered when Emile had huggedhim earlier, or how all Remy wanted to do was be with him.

Maybe he really was catching feelings for Emile, but he wasn’treally sure. Ever since his last breakup, he hadn’t really wanted to be withanybody else.

Suddenly, Remy heard a key in the lock. He sat up, slippinghis sunglasses over his eyes.

“Remy!” Emile exclaimed, coming in. “I thought that was yourcar. What are you doing here? Don’t you have work in the morning?”

“Nah, I rescheduled all my appointments tomorrow for anotherday. I need a personal day.”

“Personal days are important,” Emile said, nodding with approval.“Any reason why?”

Remy pushes his glasses down a little so he could look overthem at Emile. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me doc.”

Emile laugh and throws his bag down beside the couch,plopping down next to him. “What, I can’t ask my friend what’s wrong?”

Remy smirked and pushed his glasses back up, sipping hiswine. “To answer your question, I’ve been trying to save up some money for anew place, so I’ve been working a lot.”

“Oh, finally?’

Remy rolled his eyes and lightly shoved Emile, who justlaughed. Remy took a swig of his wine, trying to ignore how much he reallyliked Emile’s laugh.

“Oh! Also, I thought we could have a movie night,” Remysaid, picking up the remote and turning the TV on, where a Disney logo was onpause.

Emile raised his eyebrows. “Let me guess, Ratatouille?”

“You know,” Remy smirked. “Mister Wall-E-is-the-best-Pixar-movie.You and I both know you don’t have a favorite. It’d be like picking your favoritechild.”

“But it is a good way to get patients to open up,” Emilesaid, pouring himself a glass of wine in the cup Remy had set out for him.

“I’ve taught you well,” Remy said, throwing an arm aroundhim and raising his glass.

Emile clinked his glass against Remy’s and leaned againsthim. “Don’t brag, I did go to school for this you know.”

“But how did we become friends?”

Emile just rolled his eyes. “Just play the movie.”

Chuckling, Remy did as he was told and pulled Emile closer againsthim, and he tried not to smile too much when Emile just snuggled against him.

About halfway through the movie, Emile sat up and paused it.He was feeling a little warm and fuzzy from the wine, and he had something hewanted to ask Remy.

“Everything okay? Why’d you pause it?” Remy asked. His cheekswere a little flushed too, though Emile doubted he was as tipsy as Emile was.

“Can I ask you something?” Emile asked, propping his chin onRemy’s shoulder.

“uh, yeah, sure, whatever you want,” Remy said, his cheeks reddeninga little.

“How come we never dated?”

Remy sat up at that, making Emile sit up too. “Where’s this comingfrom?”

“It’s been on my mind.”

Remy set down his glass and leaned back, his eyes stillhidden by his sunglasses, but Emile got the feeling that he was deep in thought.

“Well,” Remy started, “I never really knew if you wanted to.”

Emile tilted his head slightly. “And you were dating Jax.”

Remy frowned. “I dated Jax in high school…”

“And through college,” Emile propped his head on his hand. “Everyonethought you two would get married. And you loved each other. I know. I’m adoctor.”

Remy let out a small laugh. “Yeah…yeah I did love him youknow how it ended…”

“Yeah.” Jax had cheated on Remy, something that had surprisedjust about everyone.

“I guess the real question is, why didn’t you ever ask meout after Jax and I broke up?” Remy asked, resting his arm on the back of thecouch.

“Thought you didn’t like me.”

“Well I do.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

Emile sat up and leaned forward. He gently reached up and tookRemy’s sunglasses off of him. His eyes were wide and gave away just how nervousthe other boy was. “Can I kiss you?”

Remy leaned away a little. “Emile, maybe we should talk whenwe’re both more sober.”

Emile pouted. “I’m still plenty in control of my actions.”

“Still…”

“Are you scared?” Emile asked, smirking. Remy gulped. Emilegently took his hand and kissed it. “Don’t be. We can wait if you want. I’vewaited long enough for you.”

“Cheesy much?”

“Cheesy breezy.”

Remy chuckled. “Why don’t we finish the movie?”

“Mkay.”

Remy wrapped his arm around Emile and played the movie.

Two movies and a whole pizza later, Remy was gathering histhings to head home.

“You sure you’re good to drive?”

“The food sobered me up Milly I’m fine,” Remy said, rollinghis eyes.

“I’m just saying, you can stay here if you want.”

Remy smirked. “You sure that’s the only reason you want meto stay?”

Emile’s face flushed, which Remy had to admit was very, verycute.

He had to admit that he was more the pleased by theirearlier conversation. They’d spend the past few hours cuddling and commentatingon the movies, and just in general pretending they hadn’t just confessed theirfeelings fro each other while they’d both been a little tipsy.

“I’ll be fine,” Remy said, squeezing Emile’s arm. He turnedto go, but Emile caught his arm before he could take a single step away.

“I meant what I said earlier Rem,” He said, his eyesdowncast.

Remy smiled and stepped towards him, lifting his chin andpressing their lips together.

The kiss was sweet, and a little uncertain. This was new forboth of them, but somehow neither of them minded. They’d waited this long foreach other after all.

When they pulled away there was a huge grin on both of theirfaces.

“I think I could stay a little while longer,” Remy said witha smirk.

#remy sanders #sleep sanders #emile picani #cartoon therapy #remile #my fic #prompt #anon #tw alchohol