#when my dog slept in bed with me I was always hyper aware when I woke up because I could ‘feel’ where she was curled up

[just-a-tiny-goldfish]

Okay a few nights ago I had a dream with my dog and I didn’t wake up crying for once 😌

#okay I don’t actually really believe in an after life an all that #and I still really don’t but #when my dog slept in bed with me I was always hyper aware when I woke up because I could ‘feel’ where she was curled up #and when I woke up from the dream I swear I could feel her curled up at my side and I was being careful not to crush her—only #I realized—ya know—that’s she’s gone…so I turned and obvi theres nothing there #but it was still nice #to feel something again like when she was with me #it was sad but I didn’t cry this time #but I do hate dreaming of her because it always feels wrong #like—I know something inevitability bad is going to happen #and I just can’t take my eyes off her or she’s going to be gone

[mostly-marvel-musings]

DIY

A/N: This wasn’t planned. Or was it? @babyboibucky and @lil-stark Hope y’all like it!

Not my gif! Credits to the owner.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: 18+, a little breast kink, soft pregnancy smut, tons of domestic fluff.

Word count: 1400

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @marvelgirl7 @mycosmicparadise @feetoffthetablee

Everything Taglist: @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @suchababie @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry

Taglists are open folks! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be tagged :))

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Afternoon naps during the weekends had become a new favourite activity of yours. Waddling around the house with a heavily pregnant belly tired you out beyond belief, forcing you to take cat naps every chance you got. Bucky had developed a habit of joining you almost always because he never wished to miss a chance of holding you while you slept, also because he knew you were having trouble sleeping in the night.

There had been so many occasions when you would wake up only to find your husband gazing at your belly, hands lightly caressing while he whispered about anything and everything to the baby. The sight would fill your heart with love every single time, it had even brought you to tears the first time he did it.

However today, as sleep made it’s exit, you couldn’t find Bucky lying next to you where he usually was, instead there was some muffled cursing and muted thuds coming in from the nursery.

Pulling on Bucky’s old sweater, you padded towards the room to find him focused on his task at hand which was trying to read the instructions given on the manual of the crib you had purchased the day before.

He eyed the pieces of furniture he was supposed to put together warily before giving a confident nod to himself, as if mentally assuring himself that he could do it. And that was just too adorable to watch.

Leaning against the doorway, you stared at the love of your life for a while before announcing your arrival by clearing your throat.

“I thought we were going to do this together.”

Bucky glanced up in surprise before his face softened and he gave you a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck.

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

You shook your head and made your way towards him, stopping when your swollen belly met his flat one and giving him a small peck on the cheek.

“So, you figure this thing out?”

“I think so. You wanna help?” He asked softly,

hands automatically placing themselves on your bump. Bucky couldn’t help but get a little excited seeing his clothes on your pregnant body, even though you had been doing that for years. According to him, you’d never looked more radiant.

“Alright let’s build this crib.”

.

Fifteen minutes into it and you found yourself getting irritated and snippy because Bucky wasn’t following the directions you’d been giving him.

“Are you sure that’s the right way?”

“Yes doll, I’m sure.”

“Because that’s not what’s given here—”

“I know what I’m doing (Y/N)!”

He snapped, clenching his jaw as he stared at you as you held up the instructions manual for him to see.

“Fine. Seems like you don’t need my help after all! Have fun.”

You threw the piece of paper on the floor and stormed back to the bedroom, nostrils flared and fists balled up tight. It was probably an unnecessarily extreme reaction but you couldn’t help it, your hormones were on overdrive.

Pacing about the room, you took a few cleansing breaths, ready to apologise for your outburst when Bucky walked in silently.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you sweetheart.” He spoke first.

“I’m sorry too Buck, I just I don’t know why I get this hyper so easily, it’s my—”

“Pregnancy brain, I know.” He nodded, giving you a small smile, the kind that asked permission to call a truce and move past the whole thing.

“How is my little girl?”

“She’s sleeping. But Mommie’s wide awake…”

He chuckled and approached you once he saw you grinning wide, pulling you close to capture your lips in a soft kiss. He broke the kiss but you grabbed him by the back of the neck to resume, murmuring a ‘not done yet’ against his mouth.

Bucky grazed his hands along your bare legs upwards, taking his sweater with them, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Your tongues danced in harmony until you broke apart only to throw the piece of clothing out of the way.

He took his time to let his darkened eyes rake over your naked form, the kind of look that made your pussy quiver in anticipation. There were times when you’d get aware of the fact that your body looked awkward and bloated because that’s how it felt for months, but not to Bucky. He was mesmerised by the way your beautiful body adapted to this new phase, the way your body shape changed to accomodate a baby, his baby.

He loved how sensitive it had gotten over these last few months, the way your breasts had swelled up in size along with your belly.

“So beautiful…” he whispered before guiding you over to the bed, helping you to climb on top of him after he’d removed his own clothing.

You had been a little extra sensitive and uninhibited in all departments during pregnancy, including all those times wanting to ride Bucky hard at any chance you got. It was almost a second craving along with those weird food demands you were making, all of which was considered normal in the ten thousand books he had got for you to read.

You licked your lips at the sight of Bucky’s erection waiting so eagerly for your warm touch before wrapping a hand around the length, a few pumps and a flick of your thumb to collect the precum later, you maneuvered yourself so your entrance lined up. Pulling your damp panties aside, you sunk down on his cock slowly, eliciting a sinful groan from his mouth.

The feeling of being so stretched out made you throw your head back and sigh as you stayed in that position, giving yourself some time to adjust.

Your hips rolled against his own at a languid pace as you anchored your hands on his chest, your hair cascading around your face before Bucky gently pulled them aside to watch your face.

His pubic bone grazed against your clit with every move as you rode him, your shallow breaths and pants filling the room. Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt his metal hand come up to fondle your breasts.

Sitting up as best as he could, he latched his mouth around your nipple and sucked, making you cry out loud while his hand attended to the other one with gentleness. They felt heavier in Bucky’s hand, full of milk meant to feed and nourish your child after she would arrive. They were for him now, today to caress, to love and cherish.

“I can feel you’re getting close, doll.” He breathed, laying back down and bringing his flesh hand over to your stimulated nub, rubbing it in tight circles.

“Fuck that’s it. Keep doing that.”

He obliged, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, you felt your insides tighten and walls flutter around his cock before you let go. A loud cry escaped your mouth as the coil in your belly snapped and you shuddered, the intensity of your orgasm triggered Bucky’s as he dug his fingers in your hips, grabbing them roughly.

A few sloppy thrusts into your quivering pussy was all it took for him to paint your walls with thick ropes of cum, his head thrown back and a look of bliss on his features.

He laid you down on your back carefully after pulling out, watching his cum dribble out onto your thighs before he cleaned you up with a washcloth and returned to bed.

Your skin was flushed and a lazy grin decorated your face as he nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing feather light kisses there while running a hand all over your heated body.

He felt his little girl kick against his hand as he splayed it across your bump, making you look at each other and back down where she kept nudging, letting you know it was time to eat.

“Alright alright! I’m getting up. You want Daddy to make his delicious grilled cheese?”

Your eyes held a glint mischief as you looked at Bucky, giving him your best puppy dog look which you knew always worked.

“Come on Momma bear. I’ll make you all the grilled cheeses you want.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #dad bucky #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

[novaiya]

After Midnight - Arthur Morgan, Micah Bell.

Summary: Having spent the entire day traveling with Sean, Charles and Micah, Arthur wants nothing more than to let the sleep overtake him. His plans are sidetracked when Micah wouldn't leave his hotel room, and Arthur has to concentrate hard to ignore the man and his talk as he tries to fall asleep.

Words: 2,313

Warnings: none.

AO3 Link.

A/N: Long story short, I was able to trigger a “Companion” bug in which camp members can follow you on your adventures around the world. Google/Search it on YouTube to get a better sense for what I’m talking about. Anyway, I got Micah, Charles and Sean. I robbed and killed with them for a few hours before deciding to call it a night and went into a hotel. I got Arthur a bath, and as I’m laying in the bath, I see an icon moving toward Arthur’s room. When I left the bath and went into the hotel room, who did I see lol? Micah wouldn’t leave the room no matter what, so Arthur slept with Micah watching over him. Only when Arthur woke up the next morning did Micah finally leave the room. Weirdly enough, only Micah stayed with Arthur in the room, not Sean or Charles, though all of them were supposed to follow Arthur wherever he went.

~ ~ ~

It was nice to hang out with the guys for a change. More often than not, Arthur was alone; he would go hunting alone, collect bounties alone and help people around the country, alone. He enjoyed the solitude, of course, but something about riding with his fellow gang members down the dusty plain, all of them on their respective horses, had him treasure every minute of it. The conversations that they engaged in were a welcomed change to the usual silence that accompanied Arthur on his journeys, and the safety in numbers did not go by unnoticed. He could feel, as they passed by fellow gunslingers and bounty hunters on the road, eyes watching them warily. No one dared to look at them wrong, just the sight of all four of them, with iron on their hips and scars on their faces, made any attempt dissipate as fast as their horses did down the dirt path.

The night had fallen when they rolled into town. The shops were closing down, saloons becoming quieter and streets emptier as they rode through the Main Street. Arthur could feel a yawn make its way up his throat and did nothing to stop it. The day was long, with enough endeavors to last some people a lifetime, and he wanted nothing to do than to wash it away and go to sleep.

As they continued their way up the Main Street, Arthur saw a hotel; a small construction that by the looks of it barely stood together with the rotten boards and rusty nails, but with no other options, it would have to do.

Despite offering them, Sean and Charles declined spending the night in the crappy hotel and said they rather camp outside of town. Arthur didn’t have a chance to extend the same offer to Micah (not that he wanted to either) for the fact that he couldn’t find him (he went to the general store), so after bidding the guys goodnight, he went into the hotel, paid for a room and a bath and went to the latter first.

The first few minutes of being submerged in the water were always the best. Arthur could feel every ounce of stress leave his body along with the dirt. These few moments of peace always made him think of his dog, and despite the fact that the boy was long gone, he always smiled when he remembered him.

As okay as he was with bathing in rivers and lakes, he much preferred the steaming hot water of a hotel bath. He took the time to thoroughly wash himself, sliding the wet rag up and down his arms, legs and back. A satisfied groan would leave his lips now and then as he washed his hair, adding a slight pressure to massage his scalp.

After he finished cleaning himself, he took a deep breath and reclined against the rim of the bath. The smell of peppermint soap filled his senses and with the soap bubbles acting as a blanket, he felt himself drifting off to the dream world. A commotion outside made him let out an exhausted sight and open his eyes. He furrowed his brows as he heard someone enter the room next door, his room.

Perhaps it was Sean or Charles taking him up on his offer, deciding against bunking with coyotes and skunks.

He heaved a deep groan as he exited the bath. After drying himself off and putting on a fresh pair of clothes, he went to his room.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Arthur said as soon as he entered the room.

Micah’s back was turned to Arthur as he stood by the window of the room, looking outside. The town was quiet and all its citizens asleep. Micah enjoyed the nighttime, the quietness and calmness it provided. Like all the nighttime creatures, Micah felt the most comfortable when the sun was set and the moon loomed over.

“Well,” Micah said as he turned around, holding a cigarette between his fingers, “As you forgot to invite me, I decided to take matters into my own hands and welcome myself in.”

“Get out of here,” Arthur said as he moved across the room to a nightstand by the bed, removing his satchel and placing it there. He made a point of ignoring the man by the window as he took off his gun belt and placed it next to his satchel.

Micah didn’t move from his spot by the window, though he wasn’t looking through it anymore. As he held the cigarette between his fingers, puffing on it from time to time, he watched Arthur remove his belt, his jackets and his boots, all while his back was to him.

As Arthur turned around, ready to start pulling down his pants, he saw that Micah was still there, eyeing him in such a way that Arthur all of a sudden felt flustered.

“You still here?” he said.

Micah motioned with his hands and shrugged his shoulders without saying anything, implying that Yes, as you can see, I’m still standing here.

Micah moved from his position near the window to lean against a dresser in the center of the room.

Arthur wondered why he hadn't pushed Micah out of the room yet, and why he was now pulling his pants down, stripping down to just his Union suit in front of the man he’s known all 5 months. Not that the length of time they’ve known each other would have an effect on whether he would strip in front of him or not, but still. Perhaps he was too tired to pick a fight.

When down to his sleepwear, Arthur sat at the edge of the bed. The sleep had long passed him, and he was sharply aware that Micah wasn’t moving from his place by the dresser.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Arthur said.

“Do you want me to stand somewhere else?” Micah replied.

Arthur rolled his eyes before saying, “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Micah placed the cigarette back between his lips and inhaled the smoke. He kept his eyes on Arthur as he let the smoke escape in a cloud in front of him. After wetting his lips with his tongue, Micah replied as a matter of fact, “I don’t sleep.”

“You don’t-You don’t sleep?” Arthur said, a genuine surprise in his voice at what Micah said. Now that he thought about it though, he realized that he has actually never seen the man sleep before. He’s never seen him sleep, never seen him in his sleepwear and never even seen him lay down. In fact, he didn’t even think Micah had his own tent or a cot to begin with.

“Nope.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Arthur said and waved his hand at Micah, “Everybody's gotta sleep.”

“Not me.”

Despite how outlandish the statement sounded, Arthur found himself believing Micah; If the wrinkles and bags under the man’s eyes were anything to go by.

As if it only now dawned upon him, Arthur cocked his head at Micah and said, “So what did you come here for then? Watch me sleep?”

Micah chuckled, the same way he did when he wanted to undermine someone or simply be an ass.

“If that’s what you want, cowpoke,” he said.

Arthur was far too tired to engage in a pointless verbal quarrel with Micah.

Without replying anything else, he shook his head, got under the thin covers of the hotel bed and turned his back to him, determined to not let the presence of the blonde man ruin his rest.

The sleep didn’t come to him as easily as he hoped. He was hyper aware of Micah behind his back, and in the dead silence of the night, could hear the faint sound of him inhaling the cigarette smoke. He squirmed in the bed, tossing and turning as if the position was at fault for his restlessness and not Micah Bell the Third’s eyes which he could feel on his back.

“I had a brother once,” Micah said, breaking the silence, “Suppose I still do.”

Upon hearing Micah’s voice, Arthur stopped moving and laid still, listening.

“We ran together for a while; me, him and our pa. Did a lot of good stuff. Did a lot of bad stuff. You might’ve even read some of it in the papers,” Micah added with a snicker. “I trusted him. We was brothers, beyond the sense of the word.”

Micah was silent for a good while after, letting his words settle in the air and letting his own thoughts settle as well. The images of all the vile savagery they’ve done together; robbing, stealing, killing, assaulting; flooded his brain, and he couldn’t help but smile at the recollection. The smile fell however, as he remembered what followed after; his brother's hesitations, his wanting to go straight and to leave the life behind. The anger that always boiled inside of Micah came on raging as he remembered the last time he and his brother talked before the latter bailed on him and his father.

Any jest left his voice as he continued. “And then he found himself a whore, knocked her up and hightailed to the West. Last I heard he’s living a cushy rancher life in California.”

The cigarette between his fingers was long forgotten, the cinder from it falling to the ground.

Arthur was now laying on his back, his head slightly towards Micah. “What’s his name?”

“Amos. Amos Bell.”

Arthur let the newfound information settle in his head, before he finally asked, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Micah shrugged his shoulders before saying, “Thought you might like a bedtime story, seeing as you couldn’t fall asleep.”

Arthur groaned before closing his eyes and said, “Remind me to never let you near Jack.”

Whether it was Micah’s “bedtime story” or the exhaustion finally getting the better of him, but within a few minutes Arthur was out, sprawled out on the hotel bed, light snores coming out of his open mouth.

Micah, just as he said, didn’t sleep all throughout the night. He smoked a couple more cigarettes, drank some whiskey, checked the cabinets and the dressers, and even read Arthur’s journal. The man was deep in slumber, judging by his snores, so Micah didn’t feel any hesitation to reach into his satchel and pull out the one item that Arthur was always protective over.

He casually flipped through the pages; a drawing of a horse, a drawing of a bunny, another drawing of a horse, a portrait of a random camp member, another drawing of a horse?! For a moment, he thought Arthur was carrying around Jack’s drawing journal, with all the doodles of horses and squirrels and birds that he saw there. That was until he started coming upon short chronicles and daily logs, some of them detailing mundane things such as the bounties Arthur caught or strangers that he helped, other, more grim, such as plans of bank robberies and the friends who had fallen.

As he flipped through the pages, a log caught his attention.

November 12, 1898

Got into a bar fight when Dutch tried to sell that gold we found few weeks back. The locals don’t seem to take too kindly to strangers in these parts. Can’t blame them. We was fighting to an inch of our life when a stranger joined in. I wasn’t sure if he was on our side or not, but when the opposition started dropping, I understood. Micah Bell's name is, I think. Dutch offered him to join the gang, and he accepted. Not sure what I think of him yet. He seems hot headed and reckless, but he’s good with his guns and that’s all that matters. We’ll see.

As he flipped to the next page, something that almost never happened with Micah did; he was caught by surprise.

The very next page after the previous log was fully dedicated to a portrait of him. His mouth hung ajar as he looked at himself on the paper. The carefully drawn eyes, the long, unkempt hair, the horseshoe mustache, and his classic white hat. Even the fire and the fury in his eyes was translated onto the paper, and in the top right corner, two letters in cursive, MB.

All of a sudden, Micah felt flustered, another emotion that rarely made an appearance. He shot close the journal, a little too suddenly, and his eyes flew to Arthur’s sleeping form on the bed. He was sprawled on the bed, sheets entangled in his legs and his arms above his head, still sleeping. Micah walked to the nightstand where Arthur satchel was and slid the journal back inside before going to his previous position by the window.

The night was as dark as ever, with the sky littered with innumerable stars. Micah lit yet another cigarette and brought it to his lips. He hesitated for a moment, sending a side glance to Arthur. Vulnerable and frail, asleep and practically naked, Micah could kill him right now. No one would hear a thing as he’d plunge the knife deep into Arthur’s chest, killing him so quickly Arthur would barely have a moment to open his eyes. It would take hours for them to realize something was wrong, and at that point, Micah would be long gone, his horse’s footprints the only thing left.

A small rasp from Arthur brought Micah back to reality. He shuffled a bit, turning to his side before pulling the covers tighter over his body. The night once again fell quiet, only the sound of coyotes crying in the distance. Micah stood motionless for a few seconds, his hands itching, before he turned his attention back to the window and put the cigarette back to his lips.

#arthur morgan #micah bell #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 imagines #rdr2 one shot #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan headcanons #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 headcanon #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 fanfiction #micah bell imagine

[captainsassmanes]

Oh gosh these prompts are everything. Malex angst/fluff for #39: I can't do this on my own.

Alex couldn’t remember the last time he was this drunk. He wasn’t a huge fan of taking it this far; feeling fuzzy at the edges, too loose with his thoughts and his mouth. He was a man who appreciated being in control at all times.

So this was perfect. Michael was off, on his own, at least halfway to Arizona by now. After Alex found the new site, he told Michael immediately, unsure what his reaction would be after Caufield. 

“Why are you still looking?”

Alex’s jaw dropped slightly with his confusion. “What do you mean why? If that’s not the only facility, if there’s others like you...”

“It’s not your problem, Manes. Just leave it.”

“It’s not that simple, Guerin. We have to stop my dad.”

Michael huffed out a laugh. “Now you wanna stop him,” he snarled out before taking a swig of his beer. Alex stepped back, the phantom feeling of a slap burning his cheek.

Michael looked up through his lashes to watch Alex’s reaction. Alex didn’t know i he was hoping the hit landed or if he wanted forgiveness.

He tried to say something, anything really, but his mouth wouldn’t form words and his lungs seemed to stop working.

Alex turned and walked out, hyper aware that this would be just another shot Michael would be able to take at him in the future.

He stopped when both boots were in the sand and turned back. Michael leaned against the counter, arms crossed and a perfectly practiced look of nonchalance on his face. But Alex knew him too well. He noticed the soft spot on his neck pulsed too quickly with the beat of his heart. Saw how his biceps were flexed, not nearly as casual as he’d aimed for. His jaw was firmly set, like he might cry or scream.

Alex shook his head knowing it didn’t matter. He may know Michael better than anyone, but he’d always just be another Manes man now.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Guerin. Don’t go there. Not alone.”

Michael laughed and shook his head, moving with a swagger to the open door.

“Whatever, Private. I don’t need your help anymore than a hole in the head.” He slammed the door leaving Alex standing alone, embarrassed and terrified on the other side.

So now, he’s still alone, just cuddled up with a bottle of Jack in his arms, a snoring Buffy at his feet, and The Killers tormenting him about touching chests and taking off dresses in the background.

He stood, a bit shakily, offering up a slurred, “sorry, baby,” to a startled Buffy and headed to the kitchen.

He started digging through the cabinets, searching for the peanut butter he always wanted when he drank.

A knock on the door had Buffy barking and toddling to see who it was.

“Come in! Gotcha!”

He grabbed the peanut butter and a spoon and dug in, completely unaware of who was coming in or what condition he’d be found in. He still had his leg on, although that was starting to ache when the tingling stopped, with a pair of old Air Force sweats and no shirt.

“Jealousy, turning saints into the sea. Swimming through sick lull-”

He stopped, spoon shoved in his mouth, when he finally took stock of a fully soaked Michael standing in his living room looking halfway between laughing and hysterics.

When had it started raining?

Slowly taking the spoon out of his mouth and sobering at the situation, Alex cleared his throat and found his phone, turning off the music. He closed his eyes tightly and cursed at himself to get a grip, before facing Michael who was wringing his hands and looking at the floor.

The silence made Alex’s stomach hurt and his hands clench involuntarily.

“Um,” he coughed at how rough his voice sounded. “Let me get you some clothes. You must be cold.”

“What?”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’re soaked. I’ll get you dry clothes.”

“You worried about me?”

“Always.”

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and pushed his hands onto his hips. This, this is why he didn’t like to drink so much. Loose fucking mouth.

He whispered a, “fuck,” to himself before moving to the bedroom and picking out sweats and a hoodie for Michael to wear, again cursing himself as he started hoping Michael would spend the night.

“Here,” he held out the clothes.

Michael took them with a quiet, “thanks.”

They stood awkwardly, Alex trying to Jedi mind trick the other man into leaving the room.

“I, uh, I’ve never been here before. Where’s the bathroom?”

Alex covered his mouth before the self-disparaging groan could escape. “That door,” he pointed with a heavy hand and shaky finger. Michael nodded and disappeared.

With a thud, Alex landed on the couch and was quickly joined by Buffy, wiggling her way onto his lap. He scratched behind her ears, envious for a moment at the simplicity his dog’s life allowed.

Way too quickly, Michael appeared looking like he walked directly out of Alex’s dreams. The sweats were slightly too big so they hung low on Michael’s waist, showing a strip of tanned skin and the cut of his abs. He must have tried drying his hair since it looked soft and a bit wild. Alex was already looking forward to wearing that hoodie the minute Michael took it off and inevitably left.

“Can we talk?”

Michael’s voice snapped Alex from his wandering thoughts and he nodded dumbly in return. With a smile, Michael moved confidently into the kitchen, filled a glass with water and handed it to Alex. The domesticity of that stupid little moment hit Alex like a kick to the gut.

He sat on the couch, Buffy immediately slotting herself in the warm spot between the two men. Michael smiled again and gave her back a rub.

“I started driving to Arizona.”

Alex nodded, squeezing his glass and keeping his eyes firmly on Buffy’s furry form.

“It’s a beautiful drive, you know. I think you’d like it.”

“Mmm,” Alex took a sip of water before playing with Buffy’s collar, a black atrocity Kyle gave him that had “I’m an alien, bitch” embroidered in neon green.

“I turned around about two hours in.”

Alex’s leg began to bounce. He still didn’t feel sober enough, his stomach was rolling, Michael was so beautiful he was distracting, he-

“Hey.” Michael’s voice was soft and smooth. He looked up and met his gaze, equally gentle, filled with kindness but rimmed with apprehension.

Alex looked down at Michael’s hand resting on his thigh, fingers moving with just enough pressure to relieve some of the tension he was feeling there.

“Alex, I came back ‘cause I felt sick about earlier, about what I said.”

With a shrug, Alex put his glass on the side table, using the moment to try centering himself. “I get it.”

Michael pulled his hand away and Alex missed it immediately. He grabbed a handful of his sweats to keep himself from reaching out to take that hand back.

“Get what?”

“I remind you of him, of the rest of my family, right?” Michael looked down at his hands in his lap. “I’m glad Max was able to fix that.” Alex indicated Michael’s hand with the lifting of his chin. “One less reminder of the shit I bring to your life.”

The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of rain against the roof and falling through the leaves, Buffy’s soft huffs of breath, and his own blood rushing in his ears. 

“I don’t know what to say.”

Alex nodded and willed himself not to cry. Fucking booze.

“The night we slept together was one of the best nights of my life.”

Alex looked up at that, shocked and confused. Michael just smiled back at him.

“We have so much to work through and to talk about but I want to do it. I wanna do the work. I want you to be with me, I wanna be with you.”

Alex shook his head and stood, bringing his glass to the kitchen. “I just hurt you, Michael.”

He felt movement behind him, close but not touching. “But then you put me back together.”

Alex took a shaky breath and wiped his face before any tears could fall.

“Alex, I can’t do this alone.”

He turned and faced Michael who looked so open and vulnerable it made Alex weak.

“Can’t do what alone?”

Michael laughed. “You name it. How about life in general. But, I was driving to Arizona, and watching the sun setting, the colors it threw into the sky, and all I kept thinking was that it wasn’t special if you weren’t there. I wanted you there.”

Alex looked at his feet, desperate to hide the blush firing across his cheeks.

A strong, callused hand moved slowly into his and he could do nothing but squeeze it tightly and hold on.

“We can start as friends and go from there if you want. I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes but I wanna try.”

Alex let out a breath and moved into Michael’s space. “Friends?”

Michael nodded as they moved closer still. Alex repeated, “friends?”

Michael nodded once again as he wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and pulled him flush to his chest.

Alex opened his mouth but was silenced with a “shush” from Michael and the kiss he’d been dreaming of for months.

As they laid together in bed, Michael radiating warmth with his head resting on Alex’s chest, Alex’s fingers tangled in the curls he loved so much, he smiled to himself before pressing a kiss to Michael’s head and closing his eyes.

Friends.

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #alex x michael #unedited #prompts #im so sorry this is so late #my fic #alex manes #michael guerin

[beeexx]

I uploaded this to ao3 too if you wanna read it there.

Takes place during 2x04. Just a missing moment of what Alex was thinking of before and after his talk with Michael. Also featuring Alex and Kyle bonding some more.

-----

Alex used to live for silence. Silence usually meant an empty house, with his dad gone for the evening, always with the threatening promise of being back of course (never forget it Alex, drilled into him at a young age), but it gave him a moment where he was allowed to be. Just be him, without walking on eggshells and constantly scared of overstepping some made up boundary his dad had come up with him. But the peacefulness of silence that he used to crave growing up had been eroded off him during the years of service. It was never quiet anywhere he went, he was always surrounded by his squadron and when he wasn’t, wherever he was stationed, the bases were never quiet either. Silence is something he has had to get used to again, and he is struggling with it still. His hyper-awareness to his surroundings is constantly on edge when he is alone and he doesn’t always know how to relax around it. 

Which is what he has been since he came back to Roswell too. Alone. 

The other problem with silence is that he then has too much time on his hands and when that happens he ends up trapped in his head where his thoughts are on constant loop about things he has spent years suppressing. And they come out, unannounced and catch him off guard. He went to therapy after he lost his leg and he knows what some of his triggers are thanks to his therapist, but Roswell New Mexico seems to bring out new ones he never even knew he had. The other day a movie had been playing on his television while he was absently working on going through some of the files left from Claufield when there was the loud banging of a fist on the table that had sent Alex flinching so hard he had knocked the glass of water off the table and bruised his knuckles in the process. For a moment he was back in his kitchen at the age of 15, his dad’s fist close to Alex’s own hand, looming over him and staring him down. That was his dad’s thing, intimidate him before he struck out, the blow so unexpected Alex never knew when it would come. It had taken him a whole lot more of his breathing exercises to calm him down after that and he had quickly changed the channel to re-runs of FRIENDS instead. 

Alex has wondered if he should write down silence as a trigger too? Because at this rate it might as well be. He had zoned out completely at the grocery store a while back and he really has no clue how long he had been in there, the complete dissonance so strong that he lost track of time completely. Kyle had found him at some point and given him a look that Alex had hated. He had opened his mouth but Kyle had beaten him to it.

“Look man, I’m not pitying you don’t worry. I am however pitying that depressing looking basket, if that’s your excuse for a dinner it wouldn’t surprise me if your basket suddenly wakes up at yells at you in disappointment.”

It had been so unexpected that it had actually made Alex snort in amusement. 

“Yeah I guess you have a point.” He said and looked into the basket which contained a ready made meal and a couple of bears. His only excuse really is that he’s a busy man, he’s spent years in the Air Force and hasn’t really had time to practice any cooking and sometimes he feels the only reason he eats is because he must. 

“What are you doing tonight? Why don’t you come over for dinner. I’m making spaghetti carbonara. I’ve spent years redefining this recipe so I can guarantee it will be the best you have ever tasted.”

Alex was ready to protest. He did not want to be someone’s charity case, especially not Kyle’s.

“If it makes you feel any better I live alone and I haven’t exactly had the chance to sit down and cook a decent meal for a while, if you know what I mean?” Alex had a very clear idea yes. “So I could use the company, and man I think you could too.” 

“I cannot believe you are giving me your puppy dog eyes.” Alex can’t believe it, but Kyle totally are, in the middle of the grocery store. Kyle looks smug, but seems to remember himself and pouts some more.

“Fine.” Alex relents, and he doesn’t really know why, but something shifts inside of him at the look, a throwback to their early friendship, where he was on the receiving end of that look when Kyle needed a favour. Like asking Mrs. Valenti for cookies, because if Alex asked then she would definitely say yes. 

“Yes, great.” And Alex can’t help himself but smile too, because Kyle looks genuinely happy at the thought.

“I can’t believe I’m like Liz now, falling for those eyes.” He mutters.

“What can I say? I have a cute face.”

“You’re not really my type Valenti.” Which is a half truth really, but no one’s ever been his type after Michael anyway, his small crush on Valenti diminishing completely compared to Michael. And he’s moved past that little infatuation anyway, this banter is probably the most action he has gotten since Michael called it off completely. 

“You are wrong there, I am everyone’s type.”

Alex rolls his eyes at the joke because Kyle is actually ridiculous.

But Alex ends up spending the evening at Kyle’s, eating his first home cooked meal in a long time, that turns out to be incredibly good, and has two beers which is more than he normally drinks and almost ends up falling asleep on the couch. He drives home late, shrugging off the offer of staying the night in Kyle’s guest bedroom because he can’t bare it and ends up taking hours to fall asleep in his cold and bare apartment instead. But it had become a thing since, Kyle would text him and ask him over for dinner and after a while Alex couldn’t find a reason why he shouldn’t and he gave in to the part of him that was enjoying the company. It did not take long after that before he started staying over too in the guest bedroom that had a bed way comfier than what Alex had slept on in years and by now he’s basically living with Kyle. Which is not as bad as he’d imagine it would be. They have an unnamed deal really, because Alex has a set of spare keys that Kyle just gave him one morning without saying anything, his nose in his phone and a coffee in his hand and had just left them there, like Alex was supposed to know what to say to that. But they never really said anything about making it official that they do live together, and a distant part of him thinks that’s something you do. His 16 year old self would never believe his ears if he’d been told that in the future he would be sharing at least one hot meal a day with Kyle Valenti he would have laughed. But Kyle really isn’t half bad to live with to be honest. He’s tidy, but not crazily. He cooks, and he works out and he is a bit of a workaholic, which Alex definitely is too. And he’s constantly moving, barely ever sitting still. He’s always tinkering with something. In so many ways he is like Michael in that regard, constantly on the move and surrounded with an energetic vibe. Alex doesn’t hate that. He kind of enjoys it, because it means it’s never silent. Deep down Alex is an introvert, and Kyle is definitely not. But years of being in the Air Force has of course left its traces and Alex really doesn’t mind the energetic presence of Kyle these days. It’s comforting. 

But it says something of the state Alex is in now that he didn’t drive back after the day he’s had to Kyle’s apartment, but instead to his own, which he does go to from time to time, but very rarely these days. The day with Michael, looking for clues about Nora, hasn’t been too bad. Yet Alex feels rough. Because the problem with the silence around him now though is that it screams Michael. He’s been pacing his living room since he got back, staring at the piece of consol he’s left on the small table, trying to sort out his racing mind. In his youth his father had tried to drill hatred into him, he very nearly succeeded at times, but Alex came out the other end of that surviving the cruel abuse. But right now, after learning the pain and damage his family has caused Michael’s, he feels that hatred towards himself and his family burn strongly within himself. He wishes his legacy wasn’t this brutal war, this history of violence he has inherited unwillingly. He doesn’t want to be a Manes if this is what it means. 

He knows he has to do something though. Fix a little part of what his history has broken. 

He grabs the console and gets into the car.

-------

Alex has walked away from Michael many times before. Most of those times it had never felt like the right choice. Not until today. Today, he knows with his whole heart that walking away was the right choice to make. Because now it is abundantly clear to him that Michael really deserves better than him. The last months Alex has still secretly clung to it that maybe they could, with a little bit of distance find their way back to each other, he just knows now that that is not going to happen. Alex will not let it happen. Because his family is toxic and dangerous and they have already hurt Michael too much. Giving back the console, which he knows he should have done months ago, is kind of like a parting gift from Alex to him. Now too, with everything he knows he feel incredibly selfish that he didn’t give it to him earlier, because what kind of person was he who wanted to keep a part of Michael to himself? The reason too, even when he had said why to Michael had felt pathetic. Even though it was the truth. He didn’t want him to go. But Michael was never really his to keep either. And staking a claim on him was not the right way to handle it. Alex’s always been unable to think clearly with Michael around him. That’s the reason why he’d put him in danger when they were teenagers and why he kept making the same mistakes over and over. Strangely enough he feels clear headed now and maybe that comes with him actually being honest with himself.

He does not deserve Michael.

Michael deserves better than him.

His hands stopped shaking a while ago, with the look Michael had given him before he had left, haunting him the whole drive back. He couldn’t seem to shake it, however badly he wanted. The smile had fallen off Michael's face completely when he had heard that Alex had kept this from him. The look on his face unreadable, and after he had reassured him that what happened in the past wasn’t Alex’s fault, the betrayal felt much worse. Alex had clung to the console in desperation, but he had given it back in hopes that it could smooth over parts of the violent past. He hopes that it is a start of something at least.

He feels clear headed and lucid though, even if parts of him also feel like shit. It was a strange combination and he’s probably been sitting out in this car for close to an hour. He’s just not had the energy to walk up to Kyle’s apartment looking the way he probably does and explain why. He really didn’t feel like having an emotional talk with Kyle Valenti about his feelings for Michael. No thanks, he’d pass on that forever. But he can’t sit in here forever and his hands are getting cold and with the lowering temperature comes to pain of his prosthetic that he needs to take off. So he sighs, rubs at his reddening eyes and tries to hide his inner turmoil that is threatening to undo him. It’s simmering just under the surface, he can really feel it. When he unlocks the door he expects to be bombarded with Kyle’s reprimanding voice of skipping dinner. Instead the whole flat is dark, except for the TV that has been left on. Nothing is playing, just the blue background that paints the room in a haunting colour. Alex doesn’t like the artificiality of it. On the sofa Kyle lays, with a bottle of alcohol by his side, staring into the wall. 

Okay, this was not what Alex was expecting. 

“Erm Kyle?” He asks, a little uncertain. Kyle jumps about a mile in the air, and it is kind of comically how he ends up sprawled on the ground, groaning, but clearly alive.

“Man, not cool.” He makes no move to get up, which means something is clearly wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asks because he’s sometimes nice to Kyle, he sits down on the sofa.

“I’ve had a day and half.” He mutters and moves to take another drink. Alex swiftly moves it away from him and holds it out of reach.

“Hey!”

“Talk first drink later.” Alex says and pats the seat beside him. Kyle groans loudly but does get up, he’s steady which means he’s probably not had that much to drink.

“I just… it’s really pathetic, god.” He snorts to himself. 

“Try me.”

“Promise not to laugh at me.” 

“Yes.” Alex hopes he can keep that promise, this situation really is odd even to him.

“Why didn’t Liz choose me?” Kyle sounds dejected and sad. It’s an unusual look on him.

Oh. Oh. Alex sighs and very slowly reaches forward to place a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer comfort. He’s never been good with his words but Kyle seems to need to the comfort. But honestly Alex never thought that he and Kyle would be in the same situation at the age of 28, it’s ironic but it doesn’t make him feel good about it either. Alex thinks of the olive branch Kyle had extended to him in the bunker and makes up his mind.

“I don’t know Kyle. We can’t make people love us. Even if we want that above anything else.”  

Kyle looks at him for the first time, really looks at him. Alex takes his own swing of alcohol, letting it burn down the sour feeling in his throat. 

“You have first hand experience in this?”

Alex thinks about lying, because he doesn’t want to talk about it. He stares into the wall in front of him.

“Michael chose Maria over me, and even now I can’t even say I blame him for it.”

“Shit, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I guess we finally have something in common.” He snorts. Kyle laughs and takes the bottle of alcohol back from him. He eyes it and then hands it back.

“I promised I’d have breakfast with my mother tomorrow. This seemed like a good idea a few hours ago. Now though, maybe not.” He gives it back to Alex. The turmoil is still simmering underneath Alex’s veins, but the alcohol seems like a really bad excuse even to him. He looks at Kyle, who looks sad. Alex feels bad for him, he does.

“So what do you want to do then?” Alex asks.

Kyle shrugs. “Let’s just sit here for a while.”

Alex nods. He can do that.

#roswell new mexico #fan fiction #my writings #alex manes #malex #alex x michael #kyle valenti #just a little one shot #that I wrote really late last night

[angrylizardjacket]

when i said it i thought it was true [6] {Ben Hardy}

A/N: 2658 words. THE FINAL CHAPTER. Me? Finished a series? It’s more likely than you think! I hope I stuck the landing, I’ve got a real soft spot for the ending tbh.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]

Frankie, that beautiful little bastard of a dog, snores.

You find this out on the second day of babysitting her while Ben’s in Italy, because you’d offered the moment the you’d left Ben’s room the next morning and Frankie had stopped wrestling with one of her toys to make direct eye contact with you, before bounding over to lick at your shins. She really did like you.

Your apartment wasn’t exactly small, and Frankie had taken up residence on the armchair by the window, that is, when she isn’t laying directly on top of you or beside you while you’re watching TV. The dog starts snoring at about three in the afternoon where she’s tucked up by your stomach where you’re laying on your side, it’s not loud, it’s mostly just cute, and out of instinct, you pull out your phone and video call Ben.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He looks a little flustered, and you realise he’s probably on set, and you immediately reassure him that everything fine.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you-” You add quickly, and Frankie’s little nose is twitching in her sleep, and she huffs. Ben cuts you off with a smile.

“You’re never a bother, babe.” He assures you, and he only manages to catch a glimpse of your quietly pleased smile before you flip the camera and he catches sight of Frankie. His whole face lights up, and his voice drops to a whisper at the sight of the sleeping pup.

“He snores!” You coo, and Ben’s nodding, biting his lip to keep from outright grinning as he watches the dog wiggle in her sleep. Flipping the camera back around, Ben’s adoring expression doesn’t fade as he gazes at you. 

“Did you just call to give me that update?” He asked, and your grin widened as you nodded, your fond gaze flicking to the dog, and Ben seemed somehow even more endeared. “Good, I always love hearing that my pup’s doing good.”

“How’s things on your end?” You ask, and Ben chanced a glance behind himself.

“We’re just on break now, in the middle of rehearsals.” He tells you, before you hear someone call his name on his end of the line. 

“Is that-” you have to cut yourself off from saying something that would definitely embarrass you as someone who you recognise as definitely Ryan Reynolds, Ben’s costar, asks if Ben’s ready to go. Ben takes one look at your face and his expression turns mischievous. 

“Yeah, sorry man, just on the phone to my fiance, Y/N did you wanna say hello?” He grins, and you hear Ryan’s incredulous ‘wait a second, I didn’t know you were engaged’, right before you end the call. It takes you a moment, heart beating erratically in your chest as you lay your head on sofa, hyper aware of how dishevelled you look, and the fact that you were almost seen by Ryan Fucking Reynolds, rom-com, comedy, and now straight-up action star, in your current state. Frankie blinks blearily at you.

“I’m gonna kill your dad.” You inform her with all the faux seriousness you could muster. She just yawns at you, and closes her eyes again. “Actually, good call.” And you settle in for a nap.

[sorry my phone died 😞] You text him when you wake up from your nap.

[im sure that’s what it was 😂😂 don’t worry there’ll be a next time] You think you can almost hearing him laughing as you read his reply, but you can’t help but smile.

[i’m sure there will be] 

You’re messaging almost constantly, when neither of you are busy, and it’s almost Pavlovian the way your heart jumps when your phone buzzes with the sound of a new message. He doesn’t call often, doesn’t have the time, especially not when you start shooting your miniseries for the BBC. You send each other photos from set, mostly pictures of you and your costars pulling faces in costume, which you realise too late that Ben’s probably going to show to Ryan Reynolds, but then he sends one of of himself and Ryan pulling some of the most unattractive faces as an explosion goes off behind them with the caption ‘BTS of a Serious Michael Bay Film’ and you maybe make it your lock screen.

The Bohemian Rhapsody Japan press tour kicks off, and you invite Lucy over for dinner when the boys suggest conference calling after once they land.

“Isn’t this Ben’s dog?” She asks, smiling as Frankie bounds over to her.

“I’m babysitting.” You say airily, checking the oven where the roast vegetables are crisping up nicely.

“How are things going between the two of you?” She drifts around the kitchen looking for cups before you point her to the right cupboard, and it takes you a moment to consider your words.

“Just fine, there’s a bit of snoring but it’s nothing I can’t tune out.” You reply airily, and she takes a moment, cups in hand, to frown at you.

“Ben?”

“Frankie.” You correct, and her confusion breaks as she rolls her eyes. “I- Luce, can I tell you something?” You say quietly, and she nods, putting down the cups and retrieving a the white wine she’d brought, pouring herself a glass before offering you some. After you politely decline, she puts the wine in the fridge and grabs you out the drink you tell her you’d prefer. “My relationship with Ben isn’t real.” You admit softly, pulling out plates from the cupboard and putting them on the counter. 

“Oh,” is all she can say, though she does sound genuinely surprised, “I mean, actually- really? I thought you two had been together before, doesn’t that make it strange?” She asked, and you have to stop for a moment, leaning heavily on the counter as you’re hit with the implication of what you’d said, and what you were about to admit.

“Super weird.” You agree, voice a little strained, and when you turn, Lucy can see the tension in your shoulders.

“What? What’s wrong?” She asked gently, coming over to you, concern written all over your face. “Did he say something? Did something happen?” 

“No, I mean yes, we slept together a few weeks ago, but-” and you worry your lip for a moment as Lucy has to suppress a smile of her own, it’s as if she knows what’s coming, “okay it started out fake, but I- Lucy I’m pretty sure I love him. Like genuinely, like I used to, love him love him.” 

Lucy hugs you tightly, and it feels like a weight has been lifted from your chest being able to finally admit that to someone who was actually human, rather than a very excited dog. As the weight is lifted from your shoulders, an anxiety begins to creep into your chest.

“Tell him.” Her voice is firm when she steps back, and you nod seriously.

“I know.” You’re quiet, trying to move past her to check on the vegetables again, but she holds your shoulders firm.

“No,” she repeats, “you need to tell him, you need to get to him and tell him,” she’s adamant about that and you finally break free, grabbing a tea towel and a fork and checking to see if the potatoes were cooked through.

“I have his dog, and we’re still under contract, I don’t need to go to him.” You huff.

“Y/N what are you afraid of here, can’t you see the way he looks at you-” She tries, but you’re anxiety is so loud. 

“It’s acting, Luce, okay? I’m worried that it means nothing to him still, and I’m going to look like an idiot.” Heart in your throat, you focus on plating up dinner, hands steady.

“Do you hear yourself? Y/N have you seen a picture of the two of you together? Half the time you look more like a couple than Rami and I do, and we’re actually dating.” She laughed, voice growing quiet as she absent-mindedly moves to scrub the tongs you throw in the sink, before putting them in the dishwasher. “Also, if it’s worth anything, people don’t usually sleep with their exes, especially ones they’re fake engaged to, if there’s no feelings.” She adds, taking her plate that you offer to her, and the two of you set up at the dining room table, waiting for the call from the boys in Japan.

You conference in with Ben once the boys call, and you’re quiet for the whole conversation, though only Ben seems to notice. You mostly get away with it by eating your dinner in small enough bites that it lasts for the whole conversation, and you take the time to think on what Lucy had said.

[you okay? you seemed off] Ben texts well after the call ends, and you’re tucked up in bed, Frankie laying by your feet.

[you got a free day ahead] [?] [i need to talk to you] You send, heart in your throat, and the only response you get is a date; you’re booking plane tickets less than five minutes later.

The only thing you bring to Italy is Frankie, because you didn’t want to leave her without anyone at home for a few days, and supplies for her. When you text Ben, after what feels like an eternity of radio silence, he doesn’t seem happy to meet you in the lobby.

“You didn’t need to come all the way to do this; could have done it over the phone like last time.” He grumbled, bending down to greet Frankie instead of looking at you, and you realise what conclusion he’s jumped to.

“This isn’t like last time.” You tell him, voice firm enough to shock him; he looks up at you in surprise. Heart hammering against your ribs, you gently put down Frankie’s travel case, “this isn’t like last time.” Ben stands, regarding you carefully as you suck in a deep breath. 

“I think I love you, Ben.” The words hang in the air between the two of you, and he seems like he’s not sure how to react. 

“Really?” Part of him is still running on his earlier conclusion, but all you can hear is doubt.

“I-” But your expression falls, and you go to pick up Frankie again, ready to leave on the first flight back, “forget I said anything; you know what, forget I was even here. This was dumb, I knew-” But before you can take the handle, he speaks.

“I love you too.” He tells you firmly, and you pause, standing up straight, looking at him with a disbelieving expression. “Have done for years; I honestly thought you’d never want anything to do with me after we broke up.” 

“Ben-” you whisper his name, your lip trembling, but his expression is still hard.

“I love you, Y/N, I’ve meant it every time I’ve said it, okay? And if you’re bloody joking, or if you’re here as part of that agreement, I don’t care how much they’re paying me, I don’t want to be a part of it-” The thing about Ben on screen is that he’s very good at playing like he’s close to tears, but there’s something so raw about seeing it in right in front of you. 

“No, this isn’t a trick, I love you, Ben, I love you.” There’s tears in your own eyes, and you need to reach out to him, to touch him, to remind him that this is real. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he looks down, and his gaze returns to yours, disbelieving and surprisingly bright.

His expression alone is a silent question, a disbelieving ‘really’ that he doesn’t need to speak to be heard by you; this time hopeful. You nod, teary smile making it’s way onto your face. He takes your hand gently, and you step into his space, his free hand coming to hold your cheek, his eyes searching your face for any sign that this was a ruse, but all your giving him is adoration and love. 

In the middle of this hotel lobby, you kiss him like it’s the closing scene of a romance novel, desperate and joyous in equal measures. With your heart soaring, it’s as if his arms around you are the only thing holding you to the Earth. 

You whisper that you love him as he wraps you in a tight hug, his face pressed to the crook of your neck, and you lean into him, carding your fingers through his hair. When you hear him murmur an almost awed reassurance that he loves you too, you hold him tighter. 

The months between the grand, romantic gesture, and the Golden Globes pass far too quickly. Once he wraps on 6 Underground, he’s back in London, and it only takes him a few weeks to invite you to move in. 

“We’re already fake engaged.” He reasons, but you say yes anyways. His flat already feels like home.

You spend New Years Eve together, partying it up with some friends, and he dips you for the New Years kiss, which has you flustered and giggling, which was exactly the reaction he’d been going for. 

The two of you get ready for the Golden Globes together, and he’s speechless at the sight of you dressed to the nines for the event. Not that you weren’t a little overwhelmed, he looked damn good in a suit. 

He’s fidgeting the entire car ride to where the after party was being held, where the others were waiting. He’d been surprisingly quiet; you knew he was nervous, but this seemed like something else entirely. The real source of his contemplative mood comes when you’re all watching the beginning of the award ceremony itself. He’s got an arm around you, holding you flush to his side, and you’re resting your head on his shoulder.

“You remember how I proposed to you at the premiere?” He asks, so quiet only you can hear. The moment the words leave his mouth, your heart begins to beat a little faster with sudden anticipation, and not from the awards. Making a soft noise of agreement, you wait for him to continue. “I meant everything I said-” 

“Ben you are not proposing to me at the Golden Globes.” You laugh under your breath, and when you chance a look at him, he’s beaming, amused.

“Well I’m not getting down on one knee if that’s what you’re thinking, I’ve already done that in public.” He’s pulling a velvet box from his pocket- how had you not noticed that? “Unless you want me to.” He adds with a cheeky smile, and you can feel tears welling in your eyes. “Don’t get all teary on me, love.” He discretely opens the box, and sitting inside is a ring you feel like you’ve been dreaming about since you were a kid. 

“How... this is perfect.” You say gently, and looking up at him, he’s gazing at you with love and fondness.

“Bought it a few years ago; was gonna ask back then but then... then things went to shit so I kept it around for if the right woman came along,” after a beat he added, “or came back.” And you’re crying now, silently praising your setting spray, and he’s smiling at you. “Marry me? For real this time?” He asks quietly, and you’re nodding so ferociously it makes him laugh. You’re wrenching the ugly ring from your finger, shoving it into your purse as he takes the real one from it’s box and slides it on your finger. God, he really picked the biggest nights to do this, didn’t he?

When you’re kissing him, elated and a little frenzied, Joe tells you with fond exasperation that you’re both too gross for the public, but he doesn’t know what’s just happened. None of them do. And for now, with Ben pulling you closer and that ring on your finger, you can’t bring yourself to care.

the rat pack: @hotspacedeacon @strangeandwonderfulconcepts @itssaje @d-r-e-a-m-catchme @callumidiot @rockandrollandshit @bohorap @pietrorunsforme @sweetfierceimagines @itsjackothy @mhftrs @sherlockiantheatrenerd @softbenhardy @multifandomgirlrandomstuff @virtualsheepeat @smile-nine @i-padfootblack-things @deaconsroger @spookyfrances @holyurlbatman @your-idiotic-excellency @cosmicsskies @chlobo6 @screaminggalileochickenwrites @wholel0ttarosie @rogerinaismyqueen @6leedinghearts @babydazz @a3lizalee

(crossed out means it wouldn’t tag xx)

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #borhap imagine #borhap cast #borhap cast imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #when i said it i thought it was true #queen #the angry lizard writes

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

'SighSwoon' merges self-care tips with hilarious memes on Instagram

Scrolling through @SighSwoon on Instagram is the equivalent of picking up a mysterious book at a thrift shop and falling into words that both enlighten and entertain.  

Gabi Abrao, a 24-year-old Los Angeles native, is the mind behind one of Instagram's shiniest hidden gems. SighSwoon showcases self-reflective memes and guides on how to feel things, whether it's simple pleasures or a broken heart. It’s a treasure trove of content tailored for millennials navigating creative lives. 

Sighswoon began in the summer of 2016, Abrao tells Mashable over email. Heartbreak and the desire to make some changes drove her toward the internet as a medium for creating and connecting with others, mainly through memes. With an ever-growing follower count of 62.3K, she's connected with a lot of people.

“When I share a realization online and see that thousands of people are going through the same thing, it makes me feel less alone, less hard on myself. I want people to feel this way too — understood, empowered,” Abrao explains. 

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Reminder that we’re all multi-faceted human beings and inner movements and conditions are subject to change constantly. There is no fixed condition. The more you do and the more you experience, the more understanding you will gain about your many facets and when they show up for you. There is so much to you - your capabilities, your moods, your modes. Being in one mode doesn’t make you in fixed opposition to the the other. There is no forever, there is no never. Fixation is an illusion. Change and shape-shifting is nature. After you understand your modes, you may get close to managing them. The gift of this will be synchronicity and balance. ** (Reposting myself from last October because this theme keeps showing up for me time and time again. Love this truth too much. Happy shapeshifting.)

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Apr 7, 2019 at 6:20pm PDT

The artist uses her platform to offer a plethora of self-care tips, from how to sunbathe ("a secluded location where you can get as naked as possible") to the best ways to "shapeshift," a visualization practice for when you're uncentered. Reading her is kind of like speaking to a caring physician who knows exactly what ails you and then gives you the perfect prescription, free of charge. 

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Three years ago, following a mildly devastating heartbreak, I dragged my mattress and box spring to the very center of the room and said, “I am a lush, self-sustaining island“. I slept in the center of the room for three days. That weekend, I took myself to a local playhouse. A 20-seat theater, the space was tiny and intimate. I arrived alone in a long black dress and proceeded to watch a stubborn man fall in love with an alien. The play was incredible, surprising, I cried. Once home, I felt ready for the luxury of leaning on a wall and shoved my bed back up against it. . . Later, ready for guests and no longer isolating, I thought of myself as a castle in the desert. “Grand for itself, wise for itself,” I wrote in a poem. In this new form, I was rejecting the need for outside validation, especially that of romantic partners. I imagined myself made of stone that remained cool, even at the highest noon. I imagined myself as an abundant whimsical structure in an environment lacking of. Sturdy and welcoming and independent. “Grand when you arrive, grand when you leave,“ I added to the poem. . . In a meditation class in high school, our teacher told us to pick our place. My teacher, who did past life regression on dogs, said, “Pick a place to be in. Just sit there and listen. Make room for visits from animals, insects, spirits.“ I settled for a giant warm boulder in the sun, next to a free-flowing river, surrounded by woods. A buffalo visited me that day, my eyes closed in a classroom. When things are neutral, when things are good, when things are great, I am the boulder in the sun by the river. Or I am laying on it. . . The house cat reminds me to stretch my body and take time in the sun. The house cat makes me not feel guilty for napping too long or staring at the traffic outside. The house cat reminds me to give myself permission to relax and take it slow.

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on May 2, 2019 at 7:19pm PDT

With so much to do and see online today, it can be difficult to slow your scroll and ask yourself how you're feeling. Abrao's hyper-aware content offers a mirror with which followers can take a nice, long look at themselves. The focus falls on subjects like self-worth, illusions, success, and creativity. She utilizes extensive captions to explain specific ideas in depth — or even just to describe a sunset.  

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me drinking the sunset on a hill overlooking the city. it’s incredible how some of the most impactful events occur in line with some of the most devastating. sometimes intensity is just intensity. i am living my dreams and aching simultaneously, and i’d be a fool to think this could ever be any other way. dual, shifting, unbelievably fair. i am so happy to still be here. when things feel gigantic, and the imagination builds tall tales to match the sensation, we can always return to water and sunshine.

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Mar 26, 2019 at 3:50pm PDT

“As a teenager, I used to do street art wheat paste posters around the city that said ‘sigh swoon sigh’ on them," Abrao says of her page’s unusual name. "It was a mini poem I made up and attached meaning to, and sharing it like that was a reason to run around and be bad. Years later, the phrase would come back around and feel like the most fitting title for what my page has become.”

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My Higher Self just whispered this to me and I was floored. May we recognize crossfire. May we recognize deliberate, aimed fire. May we protect ourselves first before engaging in any perceived battle.

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Mar 13, 2019 at 9:36pm PDT

The Sighswoon feed is aesthetically pleasing, everything kissed with a tint of beige. It's light and welcoming, which is exactly the way Abrao wanted it. She blames her fascination with the hue on her time spent at the beach: “I was renting a bed and a balcony in a living room for $500/month. The building’s stucco was beige, the cheap '90s carpet was beige, and the sand was beige. I think I just wanted to match everything.” 

SEE ALSO: I don't know who needs to hear this, but these memes are good

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tbt to the longest but purest #vintage #meme wrote this a year ago

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Feb 5, 2019 at 1:40am PST

“The cyborg in me recognizes the cyborg in you,” reads her bio, just above a link to her online store where she sells merch that features the saying on totes and sweatshirts. “It’s a claim to embracing the digital age,” Abrao explains, “the very human-meets-technology existence we all participate in, and are still wearily adapting to.” She admits that while it’s meant to be humorous, she also means it with her “whole heart." 

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my beloved cream crewnecks are now available! i got one sample made for photos are I absolutely adore it. sizes run a little big and on the “men’s” side of sizing. sweaters are made-to-order and will ship within two weeks. link in bio 🏹🏹 p.s. totes are still available in the shop and any orders made today before midnight will ship on thursday morning along with every order placed this past week. love a cozy cyborg

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Jan 29, 2019 at 1:41pm PST

With just about three years of memeing under her (beige) belt, Abrao has figured out the formula for making a solid one.

“A good meme is funny, relatable, insightful, and healing. In that order. You should laugh, then feel connected to the creator or others who understand it, then experience some introspect, then leave with a healed feeling from those three processes,” she muses. Her delivery method varies as she utilizes many different meme formats. 

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ok fine ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Feb 5, 2019 at 10:30am PST

Occasionally, Abrao will post pictures of herself wearing interesting outfits made of neutral textiles and glowy silks. These portraits provide a face to the name (as well as maintaining her color-coded image). They also fuel fan encounters at her part-time book store gig: "A few times I have rung up a book, handed it to the person across the counter, and they’re just staring at me, and they say 'You make memes right?'"

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Years ago, I read a passage by an unknown source that said - “When you have an amazing day, take note of what you were wearing, what you ate, who you were with, what you did. Do the same with bad days.” This shirt is my absolute favorite of mine, and I’ve only had good days in it.

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Apr 17, 2019 at 5:11pm PDT

Abrao just wants to help everyone chill out. "I aim for my page to be accessible, empowering, and soothing," she says. And she wants to keep it up for as long as possible. 

"I wish to continue my studies of the invisible and unseen — documenting my findings through paintings, writings, videos, memes, and other art forms," she says. Her end goal is literally out of this world: "I will operate a carousel in the desert some day, and I hope to re-spawn on another planet in my next life." 

In the midst of all the noise that is Instagram in 2019, Sighswoon provides a light-filled digital oasis, a faraway page that's easy to get lost on. Be careful, though. You might just walk away feeling refreshed and renewed. And with an affinity for beige. 

WATCH: Nickelodeon releases official SpongeBob meme figures

#_category:yct:001000002 #_uuid:507e85d2-e538-3381-ba4a-2b4215c5f63c #_lmsid:a0Vd000000DTrEpEAL #_author:Harry Hill #_revsp:news.mashable

[jaebeomco]

Strawberry Ice Cream (Jackson hybrid!au) Part 2

Part 2! I hope you guys enjoy it! It’s short but it’s 2 in the morning and I’m so tired, but I’ll have another update tomorrow that’ll actually get fluffier and stuff~

part 1 / part 2

“Good morning, Jackson.” You greeted, as your drowsy steps took you into the kitchen, where he sat at the island, waiting for you.

“Good morning.”

And as odd as it was for you, his voice was nice. Something you’d like to wake up to, especially the extra gravely and deep-ness of it in the morning hours.

You quickly put together a simple breakfast of doenjang soup and rice, setting a much larger plate than yours for Jackson, as he happily started munching away on his meal. “Eat slowly so you don’t choke.” You couldn’t help but pipe up, watching the dog almost suffocate himself with the spoon and chopstick full of food.

He stopped abruptly, and his cheeks dusted a light shade of coral pink, his eyes wide. You marveled at the way he looked so innocent, how large his brown eyes made him a child, contrasting against his more manly build. He was cute. “Alright.”

You turned the TV on, setting the remote down next to Jackson, with the island having a good view of the living room where he had slept that night and the TV in front of it. “I’m gonna get ready, you and I are gonna go shopping for things you need, alright? I’ll be back in a few minutes, feel free to eat more and watch some TV while you wait.”

Jackson always seemed to stop whatever he was doing while you told him things like this, almost searching your face to see if it was all just a joke of if you truly meant he had the freedom you granted him.

You got ready quickly, slapping on very simple makeup and casual clothes, not wanting to keep Jackson waiting and you’re much too lazy to do anything more.

“Ready to go?” You spoke up as you walked into the living area, Jackson seemingly hypnotized by the moving screen, only snapping out of it to jump up to follow you as you both walked out of the door to make your way to your car.

It was summer, and you were lucky enough to have a stable job, climbing the corporate ladder, so you didn’t worry about much as far as what Jackson both needed and wanted.

The car drive there was quiet expect the songs that played from the auxiliary, occasionally you’d hum along. Jackson kept his eyes out the window, taking in everything. And unknowingly to you, he would sneak little glances to study you.

He was confused. He knew that you doubted why you did what you did, he could tell. But you were also so unconditionally kind to him, that it was confusing. It felt way too good to be true. Besides the confusing and stressful events of going from an abusive home to a shelter to a nice home, he did allow his mind to think about how pretty you were. He was quite taken aback at your appearance. From your hair, to your complexion, to your facial features. He thought you were very beautiful, like your heart.

As you pulled into the mall parking lot, Jackson stuck next to you walking in, closely, hyper aware of the large amount of people there, and the sprinkle of hybrids with their owners, some on their own as well. It wasn’t exactly common to see hybrids without an owner, living on their own terms, but it wasn’t surprising with the growingly liberal status of the community’s culture.

You both curved in and out of clothing stores, mostly men’s places to find him more clothes. You let him pick out nice things, and not only what he needed, but if he looked at something a little longer, you told him to get it if he liked it. You wanted to make him feel comfortable with you, like you said, he’s an equal in his household, something he isn’t used to. He was surprised every time you did anything for him.

By the time it hit three, you both had bulky bags in either hands and you were starving. “Wanna get something to eat?”

“Yeah, I’m hungry.” He said, a bit shyly, but you could tell he was kind of coming out of his comfort zone a little bit.

“Oh look that place sells strawberry ice cream! That’s my favorite!”

-

On the way home, the music was a little quieter this time, as you made sure to start pointing out things in town and telling him stories about experiences you’ve had here and there. You hoped, even if he didn’t say anything back, you’d crack a little more of his shell. You wanted to show him you, not just as some owner, but as a friend. He nodded along, humming in acknowledgment quietly when appropriate.

As you both came in the doors around six pm, you were tired. “I’ll have one of my friends come help me put up the bed tomorrow, so you’ll have your room soon.” You said, breaking the silence as you both were putting down the piles of bags.

A lot was bought for him, and a couple things for you too. You bought him countless shirts, from more dressy ones to casual ones and white sleep undershirts, pants, shorts, boxers, a dad hat and a baseball cap that he was eyeing, which you had shoved in your basket as soon as he wasn’t looking. More smaller things for him too, like shaving needs, soaps, the essentials for another man to live in your apartment that, well, wasn’t used to a man living there.

“You’re tired, let’s rest.” He said, as you were a little bit taken aback at his blunt way of showing he cared.

“Wanna watch some TV?” You plopped yourself on the couch-made-bed, patting next to you for Jackson to sit down with you. “Hmm, HGTV or Malcolm in the Middle?”

He stayed quiet, letting you choose, as he sat down next to you, leaving a little space, acting as if he moved too fast or was too close you’d break. You decided on the latter, and shifted to get comfortable as the episode began to play.

Some episodes and a documentary on meerkats later, you got sleepier and sleepier. You didn’t notice, but your head became heavy like your eyelids, unknowingly closing the distance between you and Jackson next to you, resting your now sleeping head on his shoulder. This of course spooked Jacks a little, the new skinship so out of the blue, before realizing you had fallen asleep. With this, he reached for the remote in your hand, pressing a few buttons before finding the off button, turning the table lamps switch off, and throwing the blanket over you two.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” With your head on his shoulder and hand now wrapped around his waist, he felt comfortable enough to rest his head atop yours, following you into the world of dreams and sleep.

#jackson #wang #got7 #imagine #hybrid #au #fluff #imagines #got7 scenarios #kpop

[inalandofmythandtimeofmagic]

Puppy Love or That one time Logan accidentally set up his best friends

So i started this fic with out Anxietys name and I decided to finish it that way *shrug* Puppy Love Or That one time Logan accidently set up his best friends Logan had been very worried about his friend Anxiety recently. Anxiety’s ,well, anxiety had been very bad lately. Attacks occurring daily, sometimes even multiple times a day.  He was at a loss for what to do, how to help. But a three a.m. thought had reminded him that he’d once read about dogs helping to ease anxiety. So with out much more thought than that he had gone out the next morning and adopted a puppy from the shelter. They had shown him a litter of puppies that had been abandoned roadside. He had instantly known which one was the perfect puppy for Anxiety. In the enclosure of curly haired and playful puppies, there was one all black one. It was pressed into the corner, watching the others play. Logan had paid the adoption fee and picked up the necessary supplies before heading home. He was hardly through the front door when he was accosted by Patton. “Is that a puppy?”  he squealed, Logan held the small thing out of both his and Roman’s reach. “It’s for Anxiety.” He said marching up the stairs and rapping on Anxiety’s door, forgetting that at this hour there was no chance that anxiety would be up. Patton and Roman drifted behind him excitedly.  After receiving no answer Logan threw the door open and marched inside. He reached for Anxiety’s blankets, ready to throw them off, but Patton stopped him before he could. Instead the moral side sat on the edge of the bed and gentle called his name, brushing the hair from his forehead. Anxiety scrunched his eyes against the light, glaring at them. “You better have a damned good reason for waking me up this early.” “It 11 am,” Logan said, but Patton spoke over him. “ Logan got you a present.” he squealed, unable to contain his excitement. Logan held the small bundle of black curls out and Anx took it as though it were the most fragile thing in the world, wondering eyes moving between the Logan and the puppy. “I thought she might help you, you know, feel a little better.” Both Anx and Patton looked up at him slightly teary eyed.  He beat a hasty retreat from the room. “What are you going to name her?” Patton asked, reaching out to scratch her head. “I don’t know.” he answered, holding her up to eye level. “What about Sari.” “That’s adorable. She does look like a Sari.” “Ah, my princess.” Roman said from where he lent in the doorway. “What?” Anx asked, his sleep addled brain thoroughly confused. “That’s what the name means, my princess.” “Awwwww” Patton grinned, taking the puppy from Anxiety’s hands and nuzzling up to her. “How do you know that?” “It is my business to know all sorts of things pertaining to princes and princesses.” He said with a smirk before also leaving the room as well. “I suppose you want to go back to sleep?” Patton asked setting Sari on the bed, and looking at Anx who had already settled back into his pillows. The puppy stumbled up the bed and curled into Anxiety’s shoulder. Patton smiled and left the sleeping two. The two emerged later in the day, Anx cradling Sari close to his chest as he went down the stairs before setting her on the living room carpet. Patton immediately stopped what he was doing, coming to lay on the carpet and play with her while Anx rummaged through the fridge for something to eat. He sat down on the couch with a yoghurt and watched Patton giggle as Sari licked at his face and stumbled and pounced around. He valiantly fought to keep a smile off his face as he watched. That night Patton sat unusually close to him so he could pet the sleeping puppy in his lap during their movie night. Anxiety was hyper aware of his body, pressed up on his left side. More so when Patton’s head dropped onto his shoulder, as deeply asleep as the puppy now sprawled across both of their laps.  He felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment when Roman gently woke him up and convinced him to go to bed. The next morning had Patton passing by Anxiety's door. . . often.  There was puppy in there gosh dang it. Eventually a bleary eyed Anx stumbled out to let the puppy outside. Patton followed them, trying to be quite, knowing that Anx couldn’t handle bright and bubbly this early. He played in the grass with the pup while Anx made himself a cup of coffee, and tried to hide his disappointment when Anxiety scooped her up and took her back inside.   “You coming?” He asked, pausing halfway up the stairs to look back at Patton. “Really?” he visibly brightened.  Anx rolled his eyes and continued to his room, flipping the tv onto a random channel, flopping on his bed and scrolling through tumblr on his phone. Oh, and also trying not to smile at how cute Patton and Sari were, playing with the small toy Logan had bought.  Speaking of Logan, had Anx ever thanked him? He hadn’t. He was the worst. The very worst. Logan had done this incredible, sweet, thoughtful and slightly out of character thing for him and he couldn’t even bother to thank him? What a shitty friend he was, what a shitty person. Logan probably hated him. Probably? Logan definitely hated him. He… His thoughts were interrupted by a series of small wet licks to his face. “Ugh Sari,” He said pushing her off, undeterred she snuggled against his shoulder and tucked under his chin. It was only then that he realised how erratic his breathing had become, he wrapped an arm around her snuggling her tighter. “You okay dude?” Anxiety’s heart lept out of his throat as he remembered Patton was still in the room. He stared at him wide eyed, trying to figure out the answer to that question.  He thought maybe he was, the puppy pressed against his chest calming his breath and the way the light was hitting Patton's concerned face causing his racing heart to start doing floppy-floppies. The following weeks had Patton spending a lot more time in Anxiety's room. Which lead to spending a lot more time with Anxiety himself. And why not? He had always enjoyed Anx’s company.  He enjoyed the newness of their three a.m. talks, even if he couldn't quite keep his eyes open and accidently fell asleep. He enjoyed waking up tangled together. He even enjoyed the surprised look on Anx’s just before he pulled away from him with a shamed blush. (He did not enjoy that part.)   He immensely enjoyed that Anx seemed to stay a little closer to him now, sitting on the counter as he made dinner, and choosing to sit next to him at the table. Hey enjoyed the way their humor bounced off each other, dry sarcasm answering his enthusiastic puns. Patton sighed, rolling over and looking at the moon through his window. Honestly it had been awhile since he had slept in his own bed, alone. He didn’t like it. Not anymore. He tossed and turned for awhile longer before getting up and padding into the hallway. He paused outside of Anxiety’s door. It was late, really he shouldn't wake him. He should just suck it up and go to bed. He swayed back and forth, unable to decide what to do. The decision, however, was made for him as the door suddenly opened and he came face to face with a surprised Anxiety. They stared wide eyed at each other in the darkened hallway until Sari jumping on his leg provided a suitable distraction. He bent down and scooped the excited bundle up, laughing quietly as she licked his face. “She missed you.” Anx whispered, looking at him with a face that said he’d missed him too. Or least he hoped that that was what Anx’s face said. He hoped he wasn't reading too much into it. “I couldn't sleep without, no, I didn't want to sleep without you.” he said with all the courage he had. Anxiety stared at him, then took a very deep breath, then surged forward and kissed him. This. This was everything Patton hadn’t been able to admit he wanted. This, which had been here the whole time. Why had it taken a puppy for him to really get to know this wonderful boy? “Bleck” Anx said pulling away and wiping the puppy kisses from his lips. “Sari ,” Patton scolded teasingly. “It was my turn to kiss Anx, not yours.”   Anxiety rolled his eyes at him, but grabbed his hand and led him to the bed. This time they were tangled together before they fell asleep, and in the morning Anx didn't pull away from him, and neither of them noticed Logan’s surprised face as they held hands all through breakfast, while Roman finally got his turn to play with Sari. @killerfangirl3 @angstymelon @frustratedwaffle @umbreon-and-chocolate4life @princeyandanxiety @pattonscardigan @the-prince-and-the-emo @dan-yuna @obviouslyelementary @lampisimportant @ghostlybagans @starrykid @

#savanna's fic #Sanders sides #Thomas Sanders #fluff #moxiety #puppy #????

[denerims-archive]

melancholic for butch and your lw!

[AO3 link]She slept a lot.

It seemed to be the only thing to fill her boring days of inaction. It was hard to believe that she missed searching the wastes, trekking out to find her father or some sort of purpose for her life. The water purifier had been taken over by the Brotherhood, the Enclave wiped out and all she was left with was her loneliness and indirection.

The only thing that seemed to fill the ache and soothe the grief was sleeping or drinking – and Butch.

He was a constant she hadn’t gotten tired of yet, surprisingly.

So on days like this, when the summer sun was too hot to even be outside and it’s swollen glow hung high in the sky, they sat on the couch downstairs in her Megaton shack and drank.

The purr of the fans had lulled her to sleep as she lazed on her couch, one arm hanging off the side to tangle in Dogmeat’s fur. She didn’t look up when the door opened, only stirred from her tired haze a little. She felt the dog’s head shoot up and then slump back down with a little huff, as if irritated with Butch’s entrance.

“Move, nosebleed,” he grunted, picking her legs up and slumping down onto the couch. She felt her legs flop back down and into his lap. Catherine put up no resistance when Butch pried the warm beer bottle from her fingers to take a sip himself.

“Caravan came today.”

She felt something plop onto her stomach. Some kind of paper. Her fingers ran over it.

“Who the hell would write me?” she asked, her eyes finally opening to peer at him and then the envelope. Scrawled simply in pencil was ‘Catherine’. Butch shrugged and finished her beer for her.

In all her wanderlusting, she had forgotten how good it felt to have someone who knew her. All the others she had kept in her company were decent people but she had grown tired of rehashing her past, explaining where she was going or where she came from. For her and Butch they simply…fell back into old patterns.

“Maybe it’s one of your fans. You’re pretty popular out there in the Wasteland, oh high savior who hark gifted us with the waters of-oof,” he grunted as Catherine’s foot jabbed into his stomach. “It’s hath, moron.”

“What?”

His brow furrowed in confusion and his hand rested on her ankle.

She rolled her eyes, hyper aware of touch on her bare skin, “Nevermind.”

Her fingers tore open the letter. Not recognizing the quick but elegant scrawl, it took her reading the first few lines to realize who it was from and promptly toss it into the wastebin. The fan above them shook lazily, stuttering on its axle. She really needed to look at that generator. Butch didn’t say anything, just cooed softly to Dogmeat when he rested his head in his lap at the sound of a sugarbomb box being opened.

There was an empty, tight feeling in her stomach and her eyes drooped. Catherine managed to get her uncooperative, loose muscles moving and pulled her legs out of Butch’s lap.

“Gunna go upstairs,” she muttered, stretching her hands up towards the ceiling.

Butch didn’t say anything but Catherine felt his eyes on her.

~

She startled awake, like she always did. The late afternoon heat stuck to her. The small shafts of sunlight pouring in through the tiny rusted holes of the tin-can walls. Cathy sighed, watching a bug bounce off the light above her head she had left on. It took a few moments before she pulled herself out of bed, rubbing at an ache in her neck.

Butch was still downstairs, though he had migrated from the couch to the floor in front of the couch and had a cigarette hanging from his mouth, a couple of her magazines spread out in various disarray in front of him. Guns and Bullets was half open in his lap.

Catherine shuffled into and out of the kitchen with a spoon and a cracked open can of beans before either of them said anything.

“Why did you throw away that letter?”

“And you always said I was nosey.”

“You are nosey.”

There was a beat of silence.

Catherine sighed, slumped down next to him, leaning against the couch. There was sweat on the back of her neck and she set her food down to pull her springy blonde hair up into a messy bun. Shooing Dogmeat away from her food, she sighed.

“It was from Dr. Li. She wants me to come get some of my father’s things.”

That made Butch raise his head to look at her but she was staring at the shelves by the staircase; crammed with all sorts of knick-knacks, books and a framed photo of aforementioned father with a gap-toothed little Catherine.

“Do you want to go get them?” Butch asked after another beat, stubbing out his cigarette into a chipped porcelain bowl.

“No,” Cathy answered but she wasn’t sure yet if it was true. At the moment, she didn’t have much energy to do more than sit here with him.

She almost jumped at the contact of a hand on the back of hers.

Butch’s fingers slid into hers and he stared at her.

It felt so good just to be touched.

“You got soft on me,” Catherine murmured. She felt like she was drowning, the tightness in her chest unbearable. She made a pact with herself when she was six that she would never cry in front of Butch Deloria again.

“I know,” he nodded and saved her with silence.

Two days later, Butch set off for Rivet City with a caravan and came back a week later with a box of things.

She wanted to yell at him, tell him he had overstepped his bounds. Instead, she silently shoved it onto one of the metal shelves upstairs before spending the rest of the night in her room.

It’s the best way she can say thank you.

#fallout 3 #fallout #butch x lw #butch x lone wanderer #ship: dustdevils #mine: writing* #anonymous #personal: mail bag #this is actually a fic ive had just sitting in gdocs for forever so im hype

[mafiabosstsuna]

angst prompt: Reborn makes Tsuna kick out his fiance and sends assassins after her because he believes that she is a spy who leaked information that lead to the death of nearly a hundred Vongola men. Turns out the both of them are very wrong and that the fiance is also pregnant. 

“Stop thinking with your heart, Dame-Tsuna,” Reborn looked at his student with indifference. You were a little shocked at his tone. There was always a warmth in his words that made you think of him as a father to the two of you.  

Tsuna sighed, sinking into his chair. His expression was torn with anger and pain. You wanted to walk towards him and kiss away his frowns but the atmosphere was not right. You felt like you were about to be interrogated.

“We need to talk-”

“I wanted to tell you something important-”

Tsuna and you spoke at the same time.

“You first,” you smiled at him but Tsuna didn’t return it. His glare darkened.

“I trusted you,” Tsuna said sharply. “I loved you. I wanted to marry you and start a family with you. I didn’t think I was capable of loving someone so much-”

“Stop saying stupid things, Dame-Tsuna,” Reborn said icily. “There’s no point to that right now.”

“Trusted? Loved? Wanted?” Your face broke into a frown and your hand clutched your stomach unconsciously. “Why are you speaking in past tense? Did you cheat on me or something?”

“Such an innocent face for a traitor,” Reborn hissed. “You had us all fooled.”

You took a step back at his killing intent. “What’s going on? I’m scared, Tsuna.”

You looked at your fiance weakly but the eye contact seemed to anger him more.

“Don’t look at me like that! You’re a traitor!” Tsuna stood up and slammed his hands on his desk so hard that it nearly cracked. “You comforted me after the Brocco incident, after nearly a hundred of my men died, when all along it was you who caused their death!”

“Tsuna, what are you-” 

The Brocco incident had happened a few months ago and it had broken your fiance in an irreparable way. You had tried everything you could to make him feel better but the deaths of his men always seemed to haunt him.

“I should kill you!” Tsuna rage exploded and his Flames were glowing like the fires of Hell. “You deserve the most torturous death!” 

“That can be arranged,” Reborn said as he shifted Leon to an extremely sharp knife. He looked at you calculatively, as if wondering whether he should cut your toes or your fingers first.

“Tsuna, stop this!” you yelled back. “I’m pregnant! I love you and-”

“Pregnant?” Tsuna’s rage halted and his face shifted to confusion.

“Don’t be stupid, Dame-Tsuna,” Reborn said icily. “It’s common for traitors to fake a pregnancy in such a situation. What a disgusting bitch. I’ll play with her before I send her over to Mukuro-”

Those words were a slap to your face.

Tsuna raised his hand to make Reborn stop talking. “She deserves the most torturous death, the worst kind of death-” Tsuna faltered for a second, “but I can’t stand the idea of a hair being hurt on her head. Leave, (Name). Love makes fools of us and you have succeeded in making me the biggest fool yet. If you say one more word or if I ever see you again, I will have to kill you. Disappear, (Name).”

You wanted to defend yourself but you knew Tsuna was serious about his threat. You were a mother now and you couldn’t let your child die before they were even born.

You had to choose between defending yourself to the love of your life and the life of your unborn child.

Silent tears streamed down your eyes as you walked away out of the door.

Reborn watched you leave and his hands tightened into fists. “You’re an idiot. An idiot. Look at that shameless whore crying. She had to put up the act until the very end-”

“If you ever call her anything like that,” Tsuna’s tone sent an involuntary shiver down Reborn, “I will cut off your tongue.”

Still in love with you. The fool.

If his ex-student wasn’t man enough to kill you, Reborn would have to take the responsibility.

Reborn had loved you as well. You were more of daughter to him than Tsuna was a son. and yet you had managed to break everyone’s heart, leaving nearly a hundred dead.

You would pay.

“Why is it so hard to kill a civilian woman?!” Reborn hissed into the phone. “Are you telling me three assassins aren’t enough to kill some stupid bitch?”

The morons he had sent had been trying to kill you for months but it was like the lot of them had decided to play Tom and Jerry with you.

“She’s clever, that one,” the assassin words sounded like an excuse to Reborn’s ears, “Always a trick up her sleeve. We’ve literally chased her down five countries and we just got sight of her recently.”

Reborn once again cursed the fact that he had trained you on how to avoid and trick assassins. He thought it was an important skill the future Donna needed to know and he’d only trust himself to teach it to you but now your skills were a huge inconvenience.

“Well, I’m not paying a world tour for you men, now, am I?” Reborn said. “Kill her by the end of this week or I’ll find and kill you.”

That threat always seemed to work.

“Al-alright,” the assassin stuttered slightly, “but I’ll have you know we charge extra for killing pregnant women.”

“She’s pregnant?” Reborn’s world stopped spinning.

“Around three, four months-” Reborn clicked the phone shut, his mind reeling from the implications.

Did he- Were you really pregnant with Tsuna’s heir? Were you innocent?

No. No. You were a shameless whore. You probably slept with some guy and got knocked up.

Reborn made way to the evidence they had collected against you. He needed to go over them again.

Tsuna couldn’t give a fuck if the world went on fire and burnt to ashes. He was an empty man.

His days were spent plotting to make the Vongola more powerful and scheming against his enemies. His nights were spent with nameless women and expensive booze. He didn’t really remember his nights.

And his Intuition hurt like a bitch.

It was tearing at him, demanding him to to find you and protect you. He had always been overprotective and hyper-aware of your safety but it had never been this bad. 

He had only heard of Intuition being so painful was when the Skys’ women got pregnant with their heirs. 

“I’m pregnant! I love you and-”

That can’t be true. He quickly pushed the thought away.

It was probably all the booze that was messing with his mind-

Reborn didn’t knock when he opened the door, and Tsuna quickly tried to hide the woman sleeping next to him with the bed sheets. He was really not in the mood for a lecture.

“She’s innocent,” Tsuna had never heard Reborn’s voice filled with such self-hatred.

Bullets were fired and you closed your eyes. The assassins had finally managed to corner you in the motel you were staying for the week.

You clutched your growing belly. Sorry my baby. I couldn’t protect you.

You opened your eyes when nothing happened.

“(Name),” Tsuna’s eyes checked you for any injuries. Reborn was a few steps behind him. “Are you okay?”

Your assassins were lying dead on the floor.

“Are you here to finish the deed?” you demanded icily. “Want to kill me yourself?”

Tsuna recoiled at your words. “I could never hurt you, (Name). I’m sorry-”

He walked towards you and tried to grab your shoulder but you flinched away. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me.”

“(Name), I-” Tsuna stopped. “Let’s get you checked. Stress isn’t good for our baby and I can only imagine what you’ve gone through with the assassins-”

“Our baby?” you snarled. “How do you know he’s yours? I thought I was some disgusting bitch that spread her legs for anyone.”

“Don’t ever speak about yourself like that,” Tsuna said sharply.

“(Name), I am incredibly sorry-” Reborn’s tone had returned to the fatherly one you had been used to.

“No!” You snapped. “You two just don’t get to do that! Tsuna, I loved you. I wanted to spend every living moment with you! I got pregnant with your child! And what did you do? Accuse me of something you should know I’d never do and toss me aside like trash. And, you Reborn, I loved you like a daughter! And you marked me off as a bitch and whore, sending your dogs to kill me! I don’t want to see you two ever again!”

Tsuna grabbed your hand and pulled you into a tight hug before you could leave. Your Flames could practically taste the pain in his Sky Flames. His flames were mad and deprived of the object of their darkest desires.

“You don’t get to leave me,” Tsuna said, his voice filled with anguish. “I will make everything up to you but you don’t get to leave me. I know you hate me but you loved me once, right? You can love me again. I can’t live without you.”

You made eye contact with Reborn and he took off his fedora out of respect.

“For as long as I live,” Reborn said sincerely, “I promise you, my Donna, that no harm will ever come to you again.” 

You sharply pushed Tsuna away. “The both of you can go to Hell.”

#admin tsuna