#ROCK'S LIL SMILE ARE YOU KIDDING ME WHY DID THEY HAVE TO CUT TO THE NEXT CLIP BEFORE WE REALLY SEE IT

[scatterpatter]

MEGAMAN FANS HOW WE FEELIN-

[moonflower80]

Underforest-chapter 7

I walked into the town. It was sunny, and no rain appeared. A slight breeze flew by, and I saw people walking around, saying hi to Sans. “Hi Sans! Huh! Found a lil monster?” said a bunny lady. “yup. found em walking around, all scared an stuff. well, you’re ok now, eh, kid?” I nodded. I pointed to the shop near the inn. Sans walked me over there. It was warm inside, and another nice bunny lady looked at me. She was sewing some clothes that another small bunny nearby was fidgeting about. “Mom! I want the clothes to show my friends!”

“Im hurrying dear.”

“Oh! Hello Sans, how can I help?”

“hey, ms bun. how are ya?”

“Oh, I'm alright, sans. Did you find any beetroot?” Sans nodded, smile growing wider. “yup, a whole garden's worth and more, all hidden behind a pile of rocks.” He handed some beetroot to Ms Bun. Ms Bun gave him some money, then looked at me. “Oh! Hello!” she greeted me brightly “Sans, was this child lost in the woods?” Sans nodded “yup.”

“Don’t worry child, we’ll keep you safe! Just don’t go in the forest, alright?” I nodded. “Now, Sans, wanna buy something?” Sans shook his head, then pointed to me “the kid does. they got a lotta money.” I bought some food, and an umbrella. Just as I was going to buy all my new stuff, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A small doll decorated with leaves and flowers sat on a high shelf. I pointed to it. “Hmm? Oh! That old doll.” She handed it to me. “This was an old, old doll. I heard that the king’s children owned it. Heh. You can have it. You remind me of one o’ them.” She handed it to me. It was made with care, but now some of the seams were falling out, and the stuffing inside was drooping sadly. I could feel an uneasy presence as I placed the doll in my knapsack.

I paid for my stuff, and left with Sans. “well, kid. it’s getting kinda late. head back to the inn, and we’ll talk tomorrow.” I went back to the inn, waved to the innkeeper, and went upstairs. I fell asleep quickly, and dreamed. I saw a child drawing. They had a purple and yellow shirt, and khaki shorts. They turned toward me, and they had my face! They walked towards me, and right before they touched me, I woke up. It was still late. I heard mutterings from outside. Giggles. I peeked the window open a tad. I saw 2 small shapes, sneaking towards the forest. I knew something bad was going to happen, I knew! I quietly changed into some clothes, put on my scarf, and grabbed my backpack.

After some hesitation, I grabbed the doll. It looked like a little goat-person. A lot like Toriel, but with a purple and yellow shirt, and little khaki shorts. Odd…. I rushed outside, tip-toeing after the 2 shapes. The trees seemed to glare at me. The shapes stopped. “W-whos there?!” someone whispered loudly. “Cory, shut up!” the shorter shape said.

“S-sorry Izzy.” I walked closer. “D-don’t come closer! We’ll…” He paused. “Izzy.” Another figure, the girl I heard earlier, spoke up. “Yeah?”

“Where's the long stick?”

“Uhm..I dropped it.”

“WHY?!”

“I thought it was a branch!” I walked next to them. “Uhm..hello.” I said “AAAAA!” the girl, Izzy, screamed “SHH! Keep it down, and I won’t tell.” I told them. They took off their cloaks. The little bunny from the shop, and a dragon. “Ok, what the heck is going on,” I said. “Sorry,” said the bunny. “Um..I’m Cory,”

“I’m Izzy.” said the dragon. “I’m Frisk.” I said. “Nice to meet you, Frisk.” said Cory. “Errr… We haven’t seen you around here.” said Izzy. “Did you come from the forest?” “Yes,” I said. “I…came from the side near the ruins.” Izzy looked relieved “Phew. I thought you were one of those spooky monsters.” she said. “What monsters?” I asked. “Monsters that wrap you up and steal your lifeforce! Then, they disguise themselves as you.”

“Spooky!” I shivered. “BUT…Theres always something different about them. A different tail, a freckle, a cut where there was none. Heh heh…” said Izzy. “Heh…where's Cory?” We looked around. “Hi guys!” Cory appeared. “Oh, hey Cory! Geez, you scared us.” said Izzy. “Haha! Don’t worry. Come on guys, I saw something cool! A really cool bug.” Cory started to run ahead, then stopped. “Guys?” Izzy had stopped. “Cory doesn’t like bugs.” Her eyes lit up, she opened her mouth and fire blasted at Cory. Cory dodged, faster than lightning. ‘Cory’ dashed at us, eyes red and arms out. This was the monster Izzy had been talking about. Blue, jagged rocks shot at us. Izzy stood still. I went to protect her.

“Don’t!” The rock passed through her. Then she went back to blasting fire. “Blue means stand still! Orange means move!” She moved around, spraying fire at the monster. A bunch of blue rocks circled her, and she was hit. “No!” I ran towards her, but was hit with one of the sharp rocks. The monster, now in its true form, a tree-like golem, stood over us, arms ready to pound us into dust. I cowered. Suddenly, it glowed blue, and it was slammed into the ground. “hey kid. tell me about this later. for now, get the other kid and RUN.” I hesitated. “NOW, CHILD.” he yelled at a volume that was so much louder than his normal, quiet tone.

Me and Izzy ran back to the hotel and waited. About an hour later, Sans came in, carrying a small pouch. “you two care to explain why you were in the forest at such a late hour, followed by an explanation of why cory is lost now?” Izzy spoke up. “It was my fault, sir! I convinced her to help me calm the spirits of the forest! I'm so sorry!!”

Sans’ expression calmed down, and he gave the dragon a neutral expression. “i understand. if the spirits are this angry… they must feel it too. they must be aware that there is a human within our forest. frisk. come with me. now.” I followed him out the door, and into the forest. He made a small cage filled with bones, probably so no one could get inside. “do you know why the forest is haunted?” I shook my head. His eyes darkened, as he began to tell a story.

“Long ago, a human fell down here. Their name has been forgotten to the sands of time, but they were known to be a kind child. They helped the residents of this forest, they never harmed or raised their voice at another monster. They were kind. They were bent on helping us escape.

One day, a group of fire elementals attacked her. They tortured her. They almost killed her. Luckily, they were stopped. I stopped them before they could kill her. But… she was beyond my help. She believed that everyone was evil.

She snapped.

She killed many people and animals in both Raindin and Sundin, and left many more wounded. Finally, she found me and my brother. She threatened him. She threw her knife… but I caught it, and threw it right back into her heart. She died, and our town was safe. But the people who died… their souls were unable to rest. I don’t know, but me and my father have been trying to see if the spirits are haunting the forest, since we buried their remains there, long before it ever started raining there. That only started happening 10 years ago, maybe a few years after the incident.”His eyes darkened, as if he was remembering something awful. “What happened to your father?” I asked him. “he’s gone. the forest took him.” He was silent. I don’t know why, but I ran through the bones and into the forest, with Sans in tow. I was gonna calm the spirits of the forest.

[salami2]

Ch. 6 - The Dive

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary - At this point, it was time to consider yourself wanted as well. Hiding with Eddie underneath the infamous skull rock. Ready to walk into battle with your friends by your side…

w/c - 1.8k a:n - it’s been 84 years… nah, but seriously, this one is just a warmup for the next chapter. still good with eddie fluff tho!

Warning(s) - Spoilers for ep. 6, obviously, blood loss, those bats being a lil’ bitch for you and Steve, being called princess, fighting the bats, shotguns, eddie being a lil’ perverted, the harrington siblings ✨stripping✨, hugging, false accusations

Chapter List - Ch.1 , Ch.2 , Ch.3 , Ch.4 , Ch.5

Tag List - @lokigirlszendaya @httpjiikook @castiels-gracex @notxmoo @lily-sinclair-2006

A sigh came out of you. A long and deep one. You sat underneath skull rock, picking up the tiny stones in the ground and throwing them out and about.

Currently, you and Eddie are hiding. Well, that’s what you both have been doing for a while now. But this time it’s way more serious. Life or death serious.

Picturing Jason plastering Eddie's face all throughout Hawkins with a sweet little ‘Wanted: Eddie Munson. Satanic Cult Leader’. Just the thought made you scoff. Knowing the boy for quite a while now and knowing how much different he was then that.

Soon, the sound of distant, but very familiar voices came to your ear.

“Skull rock is north! This isn’t north!”

Steve’s head peeked through the bushes. “Bada bing! Bada boom! Skull rock! In your face, man. In your stupid cocky little face-“

After what seemed like decades, you and your brother saw eachother once again. You both rushed into eachothers arms, laughing and smiling.

“Steve! Oh my god, it feels like forever!” You exclaimed with joy, Steve letting you go. Oddly inspecting you all over.

“Did that freak do anything to you? Any bruises, cuts, scratches?” He asks. A worry that you’ve never heard from him. You scoffed and shoved him away. “He was a perfect gentleman. And do not call him a ‘freak’, it’s rude, Steve.”

“This makes no sense. How could skull rock be here?” Dustin questioned himself. Shaking his compass and his brain.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, even when it’s right in your face. You just can’t admit it, you little butthead-“

“I concur,”

Eddie's voice perked up from up on the rock. Dustin's frown immediately turning into a smile.

“You, Dustin Henderson, are a… total butthead.”

He rushed up to hug him, making you smile.

Dustin turned his head to you. “Y/N, get over here!” He shouts, gesturing you to come in on the hug.

Henderson held you and Eddie into a tight group hug. Making the both of you chuckle at the amount of love the young boy was giving you. Him ruffling his hair.

“Missed you too, kid.” You said. The rest came in and greeted the both of you. “I can’t be the only one thinking the two of them look like Dustin's parents.” Robin chuckles, making Steve glare at her.

You caught up with everyone. pulling Max into a deep hug- which she has been wanting ever since she got Vecna'd. Checking on all of your kids (and Robin!) to see if they were ok.

Max chimes in. “Hey, let’s get down to business,” she says, serious. “We have a lead and we need your help, Y/N.”

Sighing, you sit down on the ground next to Eddie. Who was currently taking long sips of the beer they got for him. Oblivious to the current situation he might have to face. While you knew this was just the start.

“So… you said Chrissy and everyone else might be alive? And the only way to get them back is for me to go upside down, save them with my powers, and somehow get back out?”

It was a stretch, but they nodded.

Eddie gave you a concerned look. “Wait, your saying we need to go to where the thing that did the murders is? We could die!” He exclaims.

“I know,” Nancy adds, “That’s why it’s a massive risk.”

“See, we used to have this really powerful girl to help us but she left, so Y/N is the next back option. Besides, her powers are strong enough.”

Their eyes lingered directly at you. Scared. Anxious. Nobody knew what to do but stare at you. Making yourself, in turn, nervous to all hell. Licking your lips, you get up off the ground. Clapping your hands together and taking a deep breath.

“Well… we can’t exactly save lives just sitting here. Can we?”

Your hand reaches towards Eddie. His eyes twinkled at yours. Silently communicating amongst each other. He was scared- most definitely more scared than you. A soft ‘cmon’ coming from your lips.

“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor,” he starts, keeping his eyes locked onto yours.

“Which, if you think about it, is a really bad idea,” Eddie's focus turns to Steve, nodding to his sentiment.

“But…” He turns to you. “The shire. The shire is burning.”

Dustin starts to hop on his feet. Starting to hype up for his favourite dungeon master. A knowing smile plays on your face. Giving him a hand off the ground.

“So Mordor it is.”

Dustin cheered in joy, starting to head in the direction of the lake. Everyone following along. You gave Eddie a playful punch in the shoulder before leaving. Steve gave a bewildered look. “What’s Mordor?”

“Are you really going through with this?”

While everyone was walking towards Lovers Lake, like a hike in the woods, Eddie Munson creeps up behind you and taps your shoulder. His brown eyes saddening as yours furrowed.

“Because I’ve seen you use your powers! You lose a fuck- ton of blood each time. What if brining back those three leaves, like, serious consequences on you? And what if-“

You place a finger on his mouth, immediately shutting him up. A red blush dusting his entire face. Giving him a meek smile.

“Eddie…” you whisper, “I’m going to be fine. I’ve been fine with it my whole life, and if I can bring good people back… I’d do it all over again.”

He watches you with those big, caring brown eyes watch you start moving forward. Away from him to avoid more questions about your wellbeing.

Finally, everyone reached the lake. Looking over at the boat that was perched onto the sandy part of the lake.

With the skilled hands of something like a magician, Ed ripped off the veil covering of the hidden boat. The sun had been set, and night had fully come underway.

Your neon pink roller skates, sadly, had to be ditched. Flinging on your loaded shotgun with ammo.

Eddie helped you onto the boat, giving him a small ‘thanks’. Dustin tried to enter before Steve could shove him away.

“Woah, woah, woah- your not getting on. Do you want us to drown?” he snarkily said, making Dustin frown. “But what if something happened to you?” he hastily replied, worried in his eyes.

“Dustin, don’t worry,” you comforted him. Ruffling his hair. “If anything happens, I’ll protect these idiots.”

You affirm to him, giving the only two males on the boat a pat on the back. Dustin scoffs. “I’m not just talking about them. If you die, I die!”

Your heart strings tug at the sentiment. Stretching your arms out for a hug, but immediately being pulled back as the boat headed towards the water. A sorrowful look on your favourite kid's face. Your kids are giving you a small wave.

“Man, they really are like your kids.” Robin whispered into your ear, making you laugh.

I mean, you have known them for a good three years at this point. It wasn't hard to imagine why you cared for them so much.

It didn't take long before the five of you reached the middle of the lake. You and Steve stood up on the boat. Looking down into the depths of the water.

Steve ripped his shirt off, tossing it aside. You did as well. Throwing off your shirt to reveal a white tank top. Eddie starts to unconsciously eye you up, making Robin shake him to stop. A knowing look in her eye.

He hands you both flashlights, wrapped in plastic bags. “Hey. Be careful in there.”

You nod your head and take a deep breath. Diving into the water with your brother in tow.

The light shining shown through the darkness of the flashlight. Deep, deep down into the lake. Heart pounding in your ears. Your legs kicked to go farther down.

And there it was.

A gate. Bright red, pulsing. There it was again, that feeling you felt at the back of your neck. Steve gave an affirming nod before rising back up to the surface. Taking a big gulp of air that was desperately needed.

“We found something.” Steve says, out of breath. “Yeah, a gate. And it looks fresh, too.” You add.

A tense feeling filled the air. You sighed, splashing in the water.

Not a second later did the most extremely heart rising thing happen

Steve and you were pulled into the water, grabbed by the ankle. Dragged down to- basically hell!

“Steve? Nine!?” Nancy exclaimed, hastily looking down into the lake where you were dragged. Not wasting a second to jump in after the two of you.

Eddie peered down, petrified. hands starting to shake and quiver. Watching as Nancy heroically jumped in. Robin follows pursuit. He stuttered on his words, rising up from the shaking boat.

He wanted to be brave- like you! Brave like you!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- Y/N I’M DOING THIS SHIT FOR YOUUUUU!!”

“Nancy! LOOK OUT!”

You exclaim, shooting a bullet into the head of the emerging bat trying to go down on your friend.

Currently, you, Steve, Robin, Nancy and Eddie were fighting off a hoard of demon bats from the upside down. You shoot them off with your shotgun, while the others swing with the boat bats.

Unfortunately, you and Steve had been attacked before they came.

Those damn bats taking a chunk out of both your sides. Blood gushing and forming a fresh, damp spot on your clothing. Going to leave a nasty scar there for a while, you thought to yourself.

Eddie watched you skillfully shoot down almost every bat that came your way. A focused look paints your fast with quick breathing. Eyes darting the dark skies. He took down the bat hailing down towards him before thinking to himself:

‘Huh… Nine kinda looks like a soldier. So focused and unphased…’

Soon enough the monsters stopped rolling in. Letting you all take a breath of relief. A short one, at that.

“You think we can take them all on?” Steve asks, looking off into the distance. A swarm incoming in the horizon. You start rushing off to where skull rock should be.

“Let’s go find some cover!” You exclaim to them, waving to follow you as the bats fly overheard.

As you make it to skull rock, you observe Nancy go to patch Steve up. You had to take your tank top off, now with only a bra on and in the corner, trying to patch up. Robin accidentally wraps the bandage too tightly around you, making you flinch. She gives an awkward smile. “Sorry.” she apologizes.

You notice Eddie climbing onto a rock. Careful to warn him. “Eddie! Be careful to not step on the vines. It’s all a hive mind.” He immediately steps down, cursing.

“So this place is like… Hawkins? But dark and nasty and shit?” he asks. You solemnly nod, making him frown.

Robin gives a pat on the back. “I did it!” She cheers. As makeshift as it was, it did the job pretty well. Despite the blood seeping through. You slip the top back on.

Eddie walks up to you. Stripping off his vest for Steve, tossing it towards him. “For your modesty, dude.”

You chuckle. Keeping that in mind for teasing later on. He takes off his second layer, passing it to you. A confused expression on your face. “And for you, Princess. Gotta be a gentleman, y’know.”

Flustered, you slipped the jacket over your exposed skin. Realizing the sleeves are too long and it’s a tad bigger then you had expected, making you smile softly and giggle. Buttoning it up. He blushes at the sight in front of him.

Munson couldn’t believe the sight in front of him. A true beauty, he thought to himself. Like a priceless diamond in his rags.

“Thanks, Ed.” You give him a quick hug. Hesitantly wrapping his long arms around you.

“Hey!” Steve's voice perks up from the bottom of skull rock. Clear annoyance in his eyes. Eyeing the both of you getting buddy- buddy.

“Don’t we have lives we need to be saving?”

And with that, this rag- tag scooby- doo gang was formed. And ready to go. Marching their way to Vecna’s territory to find the innocent people that you were going to save.

@salami2 , pls like & reblog

[ahatintimepieces]

It Comes Down in Buckets

Before Luka and Hattie ended up in Subcon, they faced many challenges on the road as they adjusted to Luka’s curse. This is a lil gift for Mak, @doodledrawsthings, and their “””Coffeeshop au””” where Luka pushes himself a bit too hard while trying to make the day special for Hattie. Please enjoy!

Word Count: 7,678

The rolling waves tumbled against the velvet sand and the morning sunlight skipped across the foaming crests, painting them gold. Hattie’s grip tightened around the old bucket she had found as she inhaled the salty, fishy air. Standing at the patches of grass that separated the edge of the forest from the beach, she gazed out at the shore. Her sketchbook waited in her backpack, begging her to pull it out and to memorialize the look of the sea and snapshot the ebb and flow of surging waves, but she had work to do.

She had to find the prettiest seashells before anyone else so she could sell them for some extra cash. Every little bit helped.

Weaving down to the beach, the warming sand caught between her toes and kicked up with each flop and flip of her flipflops. She swung the dented bucket with rust stains as she hurried to the lapping tide. She stepped into the water and immediately squealed before jumping back from the cold. The foam receded, as if teasing her, and an impish grin spread across her features.

As the water crawled back up the shore, Hattie fixed her old baseball cap and then leapt into the ankle-deep wave. Her initial screech dissolved into laughter. Splashing around, her flipflops tossed clouds of murky dust up and the sloshing, icy water splattered against her leg. She placed her hands on her hips and struck a pose as she gazed out at the sliver of light where the sky paralleled the ocean. With the cascading crackles of the snapping sea rumbling around her, it was hard not to let her mind wander into daydreams.

She could picture it perfectly. A calm day at the beach. No time limits for her dad, no worrying about money, and he could finally rest. He could finally be happy again. And she could play in the surf and chase crabs, pretend to be a pirate finding buried treasure, or draw and paint next to her dad as he napped. She could picture it so perfectly.

But she glanced down at the bucket as it bumped against her hip. Its creaking handle brought her back to reality.

Hattie let out a huff before shuffling out of the grasp of the waves, where it would be easier to spot shells. But before she did, a playful crest rolled back to reveal the tip of a fancy looking shell. Gasping, Hattie knelt and carefully tugged the shell free and revealed what she always thought of as a mini conch, though her dad would probably tell her that it was whelk of some kind since it had a rounder top and thinner end.

After checking the inside cavity for any snail or sea critter by poking a cautious finger around to confirm it was empty, she held the whelk to her ear.

She grinned when she heard the ocean. But she was also standing in it so the shell could still potentially be a dud. Nevertheless, she placed it into the bucket, and it slid around as she went searching for more.

As Hattie combed the beach, a couple people showed up to lounge on the sand or wade in the surf. It didn’t get crowded, since it was a workday, but when she wandered towards the opposite side of the long beach, where the sand was cut off by rounded boulders that jutted out into the sea, she ran into a tourist screaming at a seagull.

“What’s wrong?” Hattie called as she hoisted her bucket overflowing with shells to the side to make it easier to sprint forward.

“That darn seagull took my stuff!” The tourist gestured angrily towards a seagull perched on one of the rocks surrounded by water. It bobbed its head around as it stood proudly over a grey camera. Sunlight glinted against the lens.

“I’ll get it,” Hattie offered without hesitation. She placed the bucket down and scrambled up the boulders.

“Wait, kid, you don’t have to!” He waved his hands across his chest, trying to get her to stop, but it was too late. She didn’t listen as she assessed the slippery boulders and slowly navigated her way across.

She came to the edge of the final boulder and eyed the gap between it and the one in the waves. The seagull cocked its head towards her and let out a squawk. Pausing, Hattie glanced around, trying to figure out how to distract the seagull.

Before she could, the seagull snapped its beak towards something behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to find the tourist was waving a sandwich around. The seagull swooped over her, and she belatedly ducked as it soared over to the tourist. He yelped and turned on his heels before sprinting from the squawking bird.

Hattie tugged her cap down in determination before turning back towards the rock. She took a cautious step back before lunging from the boulder and vaulting onto the next. Grunting after she smacked against the rock, she scrambled up and grabbed the camera. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and nestled the camera between her sketchbook and Professor Popcorn. For good measure, she tucked her dad’s hoodie around it to keep it extra safe.

Once her backpack was zipped, she looped her arms through the straps and got ready to jump back.

The tourist had returned to his spot, hunched over and panting with his cap askew and white and grey feathers stuck to his vibrant orange shirt. She inhaled a steadying breath and leapt back towards shore.

She misjudged the distance.

Nearly sliding over the side of the rock, she scraped her knee against stone as she clambered and clawed. Panic squeezed her chest until she could finally find her grip.

“Careful, now!” the tourist called as she hoisted herself up with her heart pounding. She glanced towards the worried man and gave him a thumbs up before crawling forward.

Her stinging knee threatened to buckle when she first stood, but she gritted her teeth and pushed onward. She navigated back to the beach and dropped down onto the sand.

“Geez, kid, that was dangerous!” the tourist sighed as Hattie pulled out his camera.

“But I got it!” She beamed, holding it out proudly. Her smile faltered when she noticed the identical camera that hung around his neck. His chin tilted down as he followed her gaze.

“I was trying to tell you, I have a spare,” he said apologetically. “But, hey! Since you got it, why don’t you keep it? It’s great for preserving memories!”

Hattie pulled the camera back, appraising the contraption.

Preserving memories? No matter how much she sketched all the places she and her father had been, it might be nice to be able to just take a picture to quickly capture everything. She could take a picture of the sea, in fact. But she stared into the curved lens with growing dismay.

Flashes of headlights and blinding snaps. Posters with blurry images of her shadowy dad offering money for anyone who could capture the pictured creature, dead or alive. And, even when he shapeshifted, he was still so jumpy around cameras.

Maybe she could sell it at a pawn shop for a little extra cash? In the meantime, it might not hurt to keep it on hand…

“Oh, hold on,” the tourist exclaimed, startling her out of her thoughts. She tucked the camera back into her backpack and blinked up at him with wide blue eyes. “You got quite the scrape there, let me help.” He motioned her over to his set up on the beach, complete with a towel and umbrella.

After the tourist helped her clean up and shared back-up sandwiches he had prepared, she let him choose one of the shells to take as thanks and set off to sell the rest.

She set up a little area at the top of the beach, halfway between the rest of the city and the parking lot for beach goers. After doodling a cute sign declaring her wares were ready, she caught the eyes of passersby and wove imaginative tales about the shells for anyone who came near. Since this wasn’t the first time that she had sold items that she salvaged while her dad worked, she had developed a good enough sense to get a read on personalities and how to appeal to them. Parents with children were easily swayed by silly stories about the shells. She even managed to convince a businessman walking by to purchase one since her wares were far cheaper than the nearby souvenir shops that sold the same shells. And, after all, hers were higher quality and, really, didn’t he want to support an aspiring entrepreneur? (It probably helped her chances that she practiced that word a few times prior to make sure she was pronouncing it right).

She bolted when she spotted some cops patrolling the area, though.

By the end of the day, she successfully sold more than half of her shells. She tucked the coins and cash safely into an inside pocket in her backpack, where her secret stash would help her buy food for whenever her dad inevitably got stuck in noddle form and couldn’t work. She had tried giving her earnings to him directly before, but he had only gotten upset, insisting she didn’t need to worry about money and it was his job to take care of her, not the other way around. But they both knew that he often pushed himself past his limits, and he couldn’t do everything himself.

She was just beginning to collect firewood close to their camp when footsteps tracked through the grass. Hattie froze, turning towards the sound and holding her breath. Golden light flickered between the trees and an approaching shadow broke into the small clearing.

“Hey, kiddo!” Her dad, still in his human form, which surprised her, jumped forward with a wide grin and his hands behind his back. Wrinkles lined the corners of his eyes, but he was alert with enthusiasm as he straightened. A plastic bag crinkled noisily as it swayed behind him. “Guess what I got for our most important celebration tonight?”

“Celebration?” Hattie tilted her head, though his energy was infectious, and she cracked a smile.

“Don’t tell me you forgot what day it is,” he teased, bringing his hand forward and adjusting the delivery cap he wore for his morning job of delivering papers.

“Payday?” she guessed, crossing over to their firepit and dropping the dry twigs and branches she found.

“N-no, kiddo,” he faltered, quirking a brow as he revealed a plastic bag with local dollar store logo. “It’s your birthday!”

“Oh.” She blinked up at him.

“Did you really forget?” His features fell and the worn creases on his face highlighted the underlining fatigue. “We talked about it, right? When we were-when we were moving.”

“Y-yeah,” Hattie said. She did sort of remember now that he mentioned it, but she hadn’t thought too much about it since they had other things to worry about. “I just forgot what day of the week it is.”

He didn’t seem to believe her but he accepted the excuse.

“Well, I got hot dogs and marshmallows,” he added quickly, pulling out a bag of large marshmallows for emphasis. If he sensed how she tensed, he ignored it and gestured towards the direction of the beach. “I thought we could start a fire at one of the communal firepits and have a cookout!”

“What about our camp?” Hattie gestured to the little circle of rocks they had set up a few days ago when they first decided to settle in this city.

“It’ll still be here,” he promised. After tucking the marshmallows back into the bag, he walked over to her pile of wood and searched for the longest and cleanest sticks.

“But the beach is out in the open,” she pressed, nervously fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Don’t you need to change back?”

“Of course not!” he insisted with a little more force than he probably intended. In a lighter tone, he waved his hand dismissively with a smile plastered across his face. “I can hold it together long enough for your birthday. Come on! Let’s have fun!”

He placed a few sticks he deemed worthy for hot dog and marshmallow roasting into the plastic bag and then motioned for her to follow.

“But—” she hesitated.

“You know, I used to do this when I was a kid,” he jumped enthusiastically into the memory, not giving her a chance to argue. She frowned but grabbed her backpack and the bucket that still had the leftover seashells.

Hey, if they were going to be on the beach, she might as well keep an eye out for more.

“Any time we went camping, we would grab a bunch of hot dogs and marshmallows. Of course,” he added a bit quietly as they walked through the woods, “usually we had buns and graham crackers and chocolate. But I did snag some ketchup packets from the restaurant!” He beamed proudly.

Hattie forced a smile, though guilt gnawed at the reminder that he had worked two jobs that day, trying to get enough money together so that they could find a motel to stay at sooner than later. She considered giving him the money she had saved, but she didn’t want to cause him more grief especially since she could tell he was masking his exhaustion. Maybe she could hide the money where he would find it with his things? She could pass it off as him misplacing the bills!

Though, both of them had become increasingly vigilant when dealing with money in the past couple years. He would have noticed if that much went missing in the first place.

“Here we are,” he gestured to the firepit closest to the forest the second they walked onto the sand. “Sit tight while I get the fire going.” There was wrapped firewood next to the pit, all ready for them and their cookout. His water bottle was also leaning against one of the logs, indicating that he had stopped by before running to get her. While he finished setting up, Hattie gazed out at the sea.

The water mirrored the stretch of twilight. Orange-pink rays of dwindling sunlight lingered on the horizon and the occasional star twinkled in the darkening sky. Crackles and pops that came from the growing fire behind her mingled with the surging waves before her. And when her dad joined her side and held out his hand, she smiled as she took it, keeping her gaze locked on the horizon.

“It’s like that one picture in the book at the library in the last town,” she whispered, craning her neck back to meet his warm golden gaze. “The one with the watercolor illustrations!”

“It is!” he agreed, giving her hand a tight squeeze.

“I want to paint something like this one day,” she admitted, turning back to the sea.

“I bet you can, and sooner than you think.” His smile permeated his voice. He gently tugged her hand and nodded towards the firepit. Despite the lines under his eyes, he did seem happy, and that was good enough for Hattie.

“Okay!” She joined him on a log, and eagerly waited for him to pass her a stick he doused with water to keep it from burning.

Her dad filled her in on his day as they roasted the hot dogs. He got her laughing with a few jokes his coworkers shared, and she nodded knowingly when he told her about some of the customers he had worked with. When he asked about her day as he broke open the bag of marshmallows, she explained that she was looking for seashells and presented the bucket with her findings.

“Quick, if you have twenty seashells and I take five, how many do you have left?” he quizzed.

“F-fifteen!” Hattie blinked, hesitating only a moment as she registered the question.

“Good girl,” he praised, passing over a marshmallow.

“If you bought one bag of marshmallows for tonight, how many marshmallows will you have tomorrow morning?” She blinked up at him, trying and failing to conceal her growing smirk.

“Hmm.” He speared his own marshmallow as he gave her a wry grin. “That’s a tough one, why don’t you give me a hint?”

“Zero!” She pulled her burning marshmallow out of the fire and quickly blew on it.

The flames dissipated into a plume of smoke, leaving a burnt crust behind on the marshmallow. Without waiting, she popped it into her mouth and the gooey burst of molten sugar melted on her tongue.

“Becath I’ll eat ‘em all!” she declared through her sticky mouthful.

“Just don’t choke!” He chuckled before putting his arm around her and giving her a side squeeze. She immediately snuggled into his side, comforted by his warmth.

As they worked through the marshmallows and the night cloaked the beach, Hattie pulled out the hoodie and tugged it over herself. The hoodie was far too big since it was her dad’s but despite the floppy sleeves and how it was more like a dress on her, it was cozy and kept the night chill away. She became even cozier when her dad plucked her up and enveloped her in a hug.

“Happy birthday, princess,” he whispered as he nuzzled his cheek against hers.

“Hap—erm,” her cheeks flushed since she had almost wished him a happy birthday back. “Thank you.”

He chuckled and gave her a tight squeeze.

“Okay, I have one more surprise,” he said, arching back and stretching his arm maybe a bit farther than a human arm should, and rummaged around the plastic bag.

She leaned over, trying to peek and his other hand moved over her eyes.

“Don’t look!” He shifted around a bit before Hattie felt something lower into her lap. “Alright, now you can.” He pulled his hand away and she immediately glanced down.

Watercolors. A plastic palette of watercolors rested in her lap with a tiny brush snuggly tucked into a divot on the side. A single golden ribbon was taped on for the birthday wrapping. Her chest tightened as she imagined all the things she could paint, all the things she wanted to bring to life with water-soaked pigments.

But how much did he spend on her?

“Well?” he prompted with an edge of nervousness. “Is it okay?”

“I love it.” In one swift movement, she hugged the palette before swiveling around and burying her face into his chest. A lump threatened to lodge in her throat, but she swallowed it as she hugged her dad.

“Oh, Hattie.” He leaned over her and held her tightly. “I’m glad. I know it’s not much.”

“It’s perfect,” she promised, grasping his shirt.

He did so much for her, sacrificed so much just to take care of her, and now this? She wished she could do more to help.

After a few moments of lingering in his embrace, she pulled back while rubbing at her eyes.

“Everything oh-ahem.” Her dad suddenly pulled his hand away from his task of brushing her hair back. She wrinkled her nose as she blinked up at him.

He held his hand behind his back and his nervous, forced smile revealed his growing fangs.

“Dad,” she shuffled out of his lap, “you need to change back.”

She glanced around the beach quickly, relieved that there was no one nearby to see him.

“No!” He winced when an edge of a reverb tainted his voice. He cleared his throat and waved his other hand dismissively. It had completely turned ebony-violet. “I’m fine! I can hold it for a little long—” he stalled as he glimpsed his other hand and snapped it behind his back too, “—longer.”

Hattie frowned with her brows drooping. His irises radiated golden light as his pupils faded.

“Please. I know I can—” he faltered, pulling his hands back and holding them out before himself. His fingers trembled as they dripped, trying to reconnect. He bit his lip and grimaced when his lengthening fangs jabbed him. The familiar, purple-singed shadows spread from the expanding tips of his chestnut hair.

“It’s okay,” she insisted, turning around and rolling up the sleeves of the hoodie to start cleaning up so that they could head back to camp. She knew he was probably more exhausted than he let on.

“But it’s your birthday,” he whispered in such a broken voice that she felt a world of guilt press against her shoulders.

“And I can still spend it with you as a noodle!” She kept her tone light, giving him a smile strained from her concern.

The gold had encased his eyes and his teeth became backlit by a surging light in his throat. He considered her with tight dismay before scowling.

“No!” He pushed to his feet. “No, I can do this!”

“But, Dad,” Hattie called anxiously, unable to do anything but watch as he paced by the bonfire.

He held his hands out in front of himself, clenching them as he stared daggers into his purple palms. During his pacing, his legs began to quiver, and he paused, hunching as his hair began to drip. His fingers merged into mittens, taking on a gloopy appearance and Hattie thought that that was it, that he would just start getting bigger. She opened her mouth to try and get him to focus on saving his clothes, but the words died in her throat.

“Stop changing,” he wheezed in a wavering voice. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as he strained to keep a human shape. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, snuffing out his golden light. The flickering fire cast twisting shadows against his trembling form. His arms lost all pretense of having bones and flopped down like limp noodles. His legs buckled and he thrust out his hand to catch himself.

“Something’s wrong!” Hattie hurried to his side, reaching out as his mitten hand clenching the sand lost its shape entirely and expanded into a puddle.

“N-no,” his reverberating voice gurgled behind globs of dripping purple that stretched across his mouth when he parted his lips. “I can do this!” But just as he said that, he grunted and lurched forward. Viscous liquid oozed from his shoes as his legs melted.

But they didn’t form a tail.

They just pooled out uselessly behind him.

“Dad!” Hattie placed a hand on his arm, but it collapsed under her touch. He let out a strangled cry as his whole arm gave away and he slammed against the beach.

He continued to melt despite his groaning and straining. The trembling shadows spilled from his clothes and into the sand. Panic seized Hattie’s chest as she feared she was going to lose him to the beach. Glancing around frantically, her gaze fell onto the bucket, and she lunged for it.

“Hold on!” Hattie called as she dumped the shells out and slid over to her father, who had gone eerily silent as the pooling liquid oozed and spread.

She dropped the bucket into the sand and quickly tried to shove waves of the viscous liquid inside, catching particles of sand with it. Once half of him filled the rusted bucket and kept spilling out, she righted it before scooping up purple globs. She tossed handful after handful of the soupy remains of her father into the bucket. The trembling sludge sputtered and splashed. Tears stung the corners of her eyes when she saw some liquid darkening and fading into intangible shadows that disappeared into the sand, gone for good.

“Stay with me,” she whispered in a cracking voice as she scooped up every last bit that she could.

After wringing purple from his shirt, pants, and the edges of her sleeves which had tumbled into the puddle a few times, Hattie searched for any of her father’s features in the goop squelching against the edges of the bucket.  

“Dad?” She lightly prodded the thick surface of the liquid and it shivered. A muffled groan bubbled up, though no golden light from his eyes or mouth followed. Hattie sighed, sitting back in the sand as she convinced herself that the fact that he had groaned meant he was still there. But now just as soup. In a bucket.

They’ve been through worse, right? This, too, should pass?

“Okay, you just sleep while I clean up,” she muttered as she pushed to her feet.

She collected their things and put out the fire, all the while glancing at the bucket as the goop settled. Once she had the plastic bag slung over her shoulder and her birthday gift tucked into her backpack, she slowly picked up the bucket.

“Oof,” she huffed as she heaved the bucket up, wincing when droplets splashed over the side. “Why is magic goop so heavy? That’s stupid,” she grumbled as she slowly made her way across the dark beach and back to their camping area. As she paused multiple times to give her arms a break and catch her breath, she swallowed the rising lump in her throat and pushed onward.

*

Luka groaned and on top of the usual reverb that came with his noodle body it sounded oddly like the gurgle of a garbage disposal choking on water. He blinked tired eyes and the golden glow rebounded against the daffodil-yellow inside of Hattie’s baseball cap.

Oh. Had he shrunk down and dozed while Hattie was shopping? That didn’t seem right. Actually, what had he been doing before this?

A surge of panic bubbled up as he recalled trying to hold onto his humanity at the beach. He remembered the tighter he held the form, the more it slipped through his clenched fingers. He heard a slosh of thick liquid when he tried to lift his hand.

He couldn’t lift his hand.

He couldn’t lift his hand.

He couldn’t even turn his head! His eyes darted around frantically, catching the rim of some sort of curving, metal wall in the corners of his vision but he could only really look straight up at Hattie’s cap.

“K-ki—” he sputtered as some sort of gunk trickled into his mouth. Expelling wet coughs only caused more of the viscous goop to slip in. His anxious attempts to move coupled with his hyperventilating only increased the panicked sloshing that sounded like puddles disrupted by pricks of rain.

“Dad?” Hattie’s sleepy voice responded.

“H-help I’m—” he gagged on a particularly large glob.

“Hold on!”

He tried to spit out the gunk and a heavy droplet plunked against him. He shivered from the sensation but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what was going on. Relief swelled when the cap was removed and Hattie looked down at him, with sunlight filtering through the trees. Squinting at the sudden light, he tried to squirm around.

While not happy, she at least looked safe and sound. She wore his delivery cap, and he could see the dangling strings of his hoodie. If the sunlight was any indication, he must have slept through the night. He grimaced, hoping she hadn’t been too uncomfortable or cold without his coil to protect her from the elements.

“What’s going on?” he forced out, feeling like he was talking through a wad of bubblegum.

Hattie sat back, making it harder for him to see her at his angle. He twisted to try to get closer.

“You’re in a bucket,” she answered tiredly. When she glanced up and realized she was wearing his delivery cap, she jolted and swiftly took it off.

“A bucket?” he echoed in distress. His eyes shifted around as he glimpsed the walls and the occasional splash of purple-black goop if he moved too quickly. He blinked.

“Oh my god, I melted.”

“Yeah,” Hattie sighed as she rubbed her eyes with the baggy, purple sleeve. “Are you okay?”

“Um.”

No.

“I’ve been better.” He winced, realizing all the gunk that was getting caught in his mouth was himself. Fantastic.

“Do you need anything?” she prompted with hesitation as she glanced around. “Like water or something?”

“I need to get out of this bucket!” He pushed his eye against the rim, and he felt himself ripple. “Here, dump me out! I can try to—” he coughed, “—pull myself back together.”

“I lost so much of you on the beach though,” Hattie objected. “And y-you just disappeared, like the goopy stuff turned all shadowy.”

He caught the crack in her voice, and frowned, both from hearing how part of him just up and evaporated—okay, a lot of him if what was left of his monstrous noodle form could fit inside a tiny bucket—and from how much he had frightened her.

“I can’t stay like this, though,” he argued. “I have work! And you can’t stay in the woods on your own!” He shifted around, trying to figure out how to stretch his neck or anything but his neck and everything was gone! First, he lost his body and now he lost his monster body? This wasn’t fair! He couldn’t live like this!

In his frustration, he tried to will himself to have arms or hands or even his tail would work. The goop bubbled and frothed, and he grunted from the strain, but he could do it! He could pull himself together!

“Stop!” Hattie commanded. He yelped as he felt small hands jut into the goop and scoop up his features.

He felt himself spread out and winced as strands dripped back down into the bucket with heavy plops. It was like the world and his body were spinning around him, disconnected and far from his grasp as his head remained stagnant but stuck. After blinking and spotting Hattie’s thumb acting as a barrier as trickles of him slipped through the cracks of her fingers, he grounded himself in her frustrated blue gaze.

“If you keep hurting yourself, you’ll just make it worse!” Her nose scrunched up into a hard scowl, but he heard the lump in her throat underneath her irate bite. “Just stop!”

“Sorry,” he gurgled quietly. Her brows furrowed even more, and he added as gently as he could, “I’ll rest, kiddo. I’ll take it easy.”

“Promise?” She stared him down.

“Promise,” he breathed out, slumping.

She lowered him back into the bucket and a soft bloop sound was followed by flickers of drops as she pulled her hands out. He hummed to relieve some distress as he tried to force himself to relax.

“Maybe you just need sleep,” Hattie offered. She grumbled a bit, but he could tell she was trying to soften her tone.

“That’s usually all it is,” he agreed.

He did feel a similar exhaustion to all the times he pushed his time limit and got stuck in noodle form. Only this was much worse. Even when he was a human, he wasn’t sure he could ever remember a time he was so tired that he couldn’t move his muscles.

Leaning his eyes against the rim of the bucket for some semblance of security, he desperately hoped he wouldn’t be stuck like this. But even if he did eventually turn back to monster-normal, he had a sneaking suspicion he really screwed over his already sparse shapeshifting time.  

“Do you want me to put the hat back over?” Hattie lifted her cap into his view. “To help you sleep?”

“No,” he said a little quickly. She lowered the hat and he added, sheepishly, “I know I can’t see much from here, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Okay. Go to sleep. Let me know if you need anything.” She scooted over to their campfire, and he heard the click of the lighter.

He sighed but tried to let the distant crackle of flame and the low tap of Hattie sketching on paper lull him into a semi-relaxed state. His eyes closed into tiny slits and as he dozed, a gentle and continuous rumble bubbled up from within.

“Dad?” Hattie whispered after a stretch of time, scooting back into view and looking down with her hair slipping from behind her ear.

“Hmm?” His eyes cracked open, slowly registering the rumbling sound. In his peripheral vision, the surface of the ebony-violet goop rippled steadily.

Hattie cracked a grin.

“You’re purring!” she said in slight disbelief before exploding into giggles.

“I’m—?” he began before he recognized the familiar and involuntary purr. A dusting of faint gold emanated from beneath the surface of the goop as he blushed.

“The whole bucket is shaking!” Hattie covered her mouth as her laugh trickled out in mirthful chimes.

Despite himself, Luka smiled, glad to hear her laugh.

“I guess it looks pretty silly,” he admitted, imagining the bucket wiggling around. Though now that he was becoming more alert, the rumbling slowed to a stop. In their absence, he realized how comforting the vibrations had been.

Hmm. Maybe the purring was a way to pull himself back together? It wasn’t something he could force or speed up, though. Typical.

“Do you want any food?” Hattie perked after she calmed down from laughing. “I was roasting some hot dogs.”

“I’ll try a bite,” his eyes and mouth shifted up and down in an affirmative nod that sent tiny waves splashing against the side of the bucket.

He couldn’t really tell if he was hungry, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to eat but he would do anything that would help him replenish some energy.

When Hattie returned with a torn piece of a hot dog, Luka opened his mouth and let out a gurgling, “ah.”

With a giggle, she gently lowered the hot dog as close as she could before dropping it. He felt the hot dog plop down and coughed. Hattie winced in apology as he closed his mouth and pensively chewed.

“I’m fine,” he said after a thick swallow. He couldn’t feel the lump of the hot dog anymore but in the past few years of dealing with his magic, goopy body, he learned to not ask questions he couldn’t answer and near the top of that list was wondering what the heck replaced his melted digestive track.

Hattie fed him a few more pieces and he swallowed the dismay of not being able to feed himself. Even though he had grown accustomed to relying on Hattie for help when his chameleon paws couldn’t work with delicate silverware, the familiar sorrow from the early days returned now that he didn’t even have hands.

After what he was certain was a late lunch, he napped on and off as Hattie remained nearby. When he would check in with her, she would present her latest sketches proudly, and even had one completed work in watercolor. It was a scene of the ocean, and while her sketchbook paper wasn’t meant to hold so much moisture, causing it to crinkle and warp when it dried, she excitedly explained that she was going to do other paintings exactly like it, but all showcasing the ocean at different times of the day. He told her that he was eager to see them, overjoyed that she was having fun with her gift like he had hoped she would.

If only he had been able to save up enough for a motel in time for her birthday, or at the very least, if only he hadn’t melted on her. But that was really his fault for pushing himself so hard.

He had just so badly wanted to make it special. She hadn’t even remembered her own birthday! What else was he supposed to do? Let himself turn into a monster? She deserved to have her actual dad on her birthday.

“Hey, Dad?” Her voice drew him out of his sinking despair.

“What’s up, kiddo?” he shifted his eyes in the bucket, trying to find a position that best allowed him to see her.

“What should I tell your boss?” She held out his phone, which was lit up with messages with letters in all caps.

Luka groaned.

“Can you read the messages for me?” He mentally prepared for the nerve-wracking ordeal of trying to explain himself without admitting to his boss that the reason he couldn’t make it to work was because he turned into a bucket of silly putty.

With Luka directing her, Hattie responded to the understandably angry but maybe harsher than necessary texts from his boss at the restaurant. Once that was done, he let out a heavy sigh, accidentally blowing a bubble in the goop, which shortly popped and splattered. He flinched when a drop landed in his eye.

“Do I have anything from the newspaper office?” Luka asked, dreading the thought of not only the manager getting upset when he found out no one had delivered newspapers in the morning, but of all the people who would no doubt call to complain about empty doorsteps.

“No,” Hattie replied slowly.

“Really?” Luka wasn’t sure if he should count that as good or bad. Either way, he was probably out of a job. “I’ll need to start looking for something else.”

“Why?” Hattie scooted closer, hugging her knees to her chest as she looked down at him.

“They’ve probably already decided to fire me,” he lamented with his mouth sinking and gurgling in the gunk.

“Nah.” She glanced away, tapping around on his phone.

He blinked up at her.

“Nah?” he repeated. When Hattie kept her gaze down and her lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowed. “Hattie? What did you do?”

“I maybe did your deliveries for you?” she offered guiltily.

He stared at her.

“You what?” he sputtered, causing his sludge to ripple as panic seized him. “By yourself? Hattie! You just turned eight! My route is a couple miles long, and you would have had to bike before dawn! There are child labor laws! What do you mean you did my deliveries?”

“I had help!” Hattie hurried to explain. “I ran into a nice tourist I met yesterday, and he gave me a map and delivered half of the newspapers for me.”

“You worked with a stranger?” Luka demanded, shifting around in the bucket. “Harriet Princeton, you are not supposed to talk to strangers!”

“So, I’m only supposed to talk to you?” She threw her hands up in the air.

“No! I mean—that’s not the point!” he faltered, sloshing around as the bite in her words stung. Bits of goop splattered over the rim and Hattie jolted.

“Stop freaking out!” She helplessly tried to grasp at the stray droplets. “I can’t lose you again!”

He paused, tensing. Well, tensing as much as he could as a viscous liquid.

“Wh-what do you mean lose me again?” he pressed tightly.

“I thought you were gone when you melted,” she said with a cracking voice. She hugged her legs and rest her chin on her knees. “I thought I didn’t get all of you in time and you were gone, and I just wanted to help because you’re so tired all time but—” she trailed off in a squeak as tears filled her eyes.

“Hattie—” he shifted towards her, but the goop sputtered as he instinctively tried to reach out to his daughter. Liquid stung his eyes and he blinked rapidly. “Hattie, look at me please.”

She turned and revealed tears streaming down her cheeks.

Gold blurred his vision, but he pressed on.

“I’m sorry,” he began in a congested voice, thick with gunk and reverb. “I know you were just trying to help, and I appreciate it! But I don’t want you worrying about my jobs or money. You shouldn’t have to.”

His voice cracked and all too late, he realized that the reason he sounded so congested was partly because of the golden tears filling the bucket. They glittered in the goop, separated like oil drops in water. His breath hitched and the goop swelled.

“But I can—” he tried to continue as the tears slipped out and the goop splashed up when he instinctively tried to wipe them away with a hand that wasn’t there.

“You’re spilling!” Hattie interrupted, jolting upward and hurrying over, placing her arms around the rim but the added tears were causing his anxious sloshing to spill over. “Stop crying!”

“What?” He jolted, shifting his eyes around and catching glimpses of purple and gold staining her sleeves. Her dismayed features above him only encouraged his tears and he made a muffled sniffling noise as panic surged and his tears swelled.

“Dad!” she yelped. But her own distraught features cleaved through his squishy, melted chest.

“I-I can’t! Give me a moment!” Twisting away, he tried to lock his eyes on something to ground himself, but in his panic, he kept attempting to turn and wipe his tears. The spilling goop sloshed uncontrollably.

“Try to laugh!” Hattie begged. “Tell me a stupid joke!”

“Ah, uh.” He pressed his lips into a tight line as he struggled to think of something. “Um. You know what? This situation really pails in comparison to—uh—that one time we teleported into that bear den!”

“What?” Hattie furrowed her brows. But it looked like her tears halted in confusion.

“P-pails, like a pun? It’s a joke. It’s supposed to be funny. Please laugh,” he said weakly. He blinked and let out a tight exhale as he felt himself calm and the rest of the goop start to settle.

“That’s a stupid joke.” Hattie sniffled as she leaned back and slowly lifted her arms, revealing sleeves soaked with purple sludge.

“I got buckets of them.” He added a sardonic, “ha,” as the gold ebbed. While a few dancing droplets of tears wiggled in his goop, now that he was calmer, trembling splashes no longer spilled over the rim.

Hattie wrung out the sleeves. He flinched at the droplets that pelted his face and sent ripples along the surface.

“That’s even worse,” she sighed, though a small smile found its way onto her features. She tugged up one of her sleeves and gingerly reached over and wiped at the edge of his eye.

He grunted, squeezing it shut but when she pulled away, he watched her flick a golden droplet towards the grass. He sighed, blowing a few bubbles.

“Please don’t do my job tomorrow,” he said quietly. “We’ll be okay.”

She nodded slowly before thinking better of it.

“Only if you promise not to push yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” he said tiredly before he yawned. Sludge dribbled into his mouth, and he sputtered.

“Sleep.” She poked the goop. He shifted his eyes next to her finger, which was the closest he could come to giving her an encouraging nuzzle.

“What about you?” he asked, staring up at the canopy of leaves. There was still sunlight trickling down, but it seemed fainter.

“I can eat soon,” she shrugged.

“Wake me if you need anything,” he muttered, feeling his eyelids grow heavy.

Did he even have eyelids at this point? Maybe it was more that his eyes were sinking. Might be more apt.

Hattie promised to, but he had a feeling they both knew she would deal with any problem on her own before waking him. Frowning, he supposed the best thing he could do for her would be to recover as swiftly as possible.

He settled into the bucket, and soon enough, the sludge began to ripple as he automatically purred. He caught Hattie’s stifled snort at the vibrating bucket before he fell asleep.

Night blanketed the forest by the time he woke up again. Still purring, he blinked as he felt something shift. The rippling rumbles of goop seemed to be tightening and when he moved to lift his head, he peeked over the rim of the bucket. Relief swelled inside as he spotted Hattie’s back. She was drawing by the fire, safe and sound.

Edging backward, he tilted his head down, blinking at the vibrating goop as it slowly re-solidified into shape. After a moment, he lifted his noodle arms and wiggled his chameleon paws. Funny, he was actually relieved to see them for once. Once his tail formed, he heaved out a sigh. There wasn’t a drop of him left behind in the bucket, but now he took up less volume.

“Kiddo,” he called softly, floating up to the rim of the bucket and placing his hands on the edge, curling his tail beneath himself.

“Dad!” Hattie gasped when she saw his familiar form. Scrambling around, she darted over, and he flew up into her embrace.

“You’re tiny,” she muttered into the plush fluff around his neck. His tail waved back and forth as he returned her firm hug.

“I’m sure I’ll get back to normal size,” he guessed. Probably. After a long enough rest without using his shapeshifting.

Moments passed until he caught a low grumble coming from Hattie’s stomach. He craned his neck with a smirk.

“In the meantime, are there anymore marshmallows to share?”

“I ate them all. Remember our math quiz? Zero left.” Hattie said without missing a beat as she turned back around and brought him to the fireside. “Just kidding, I saved you some.”

“That’s my girl!” His tail waved harder as he chuckled.

He extended an arm towards the bag, noting that he couldn’t really stretch it like usual, and made a grasping motion. Hattie plopped the bag into her lap, still using an arm to hug him, and they both took turns popping the confections into their mouths.

Yes, after a week’s worth of rest, he would grow to his usual massive size and when he could shapeshift again, he would have to deal with the consequences of missing so much work. But until then, he and Hattie would take it day by day and one marshmallow at a time.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Midnight Cravings

so, i actually wrote most of this in july but never finished it and decided to fix it up for todays prompt bc i was feeling a lil lazy lol. and i think its one of my faves, especially the ending.

2.2k words

cw: none

enjoy!! :)

It was just past two in the morning and Aelin was wide awake. Not due to a mountain of paperwork, or a nightmare or one of her kids needing her. Aelin was wide awake because she was absolutely starving.

The type of starving it felt like she'd never eaten a day in her life. Like her stomach was going to eat itself.

Her stomach growled again, louder than before, and beside her, his voice muffled, Rowan asked, “Is that your stomach or the wind outside?”

“Shut up,” Aelin mumbled, as her stomach continued its song. Gods, why was she so hungry? She practically devoured the fruits in the fruit bowl just before bed, she had a healthy serving of dinner, and a large slice of chocolate torte for dessert.

But here she was, close to eating her damned pillow to sate her starvation.

Aelin glanced over towards her mate, his back to her, and she shuffled closer, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Rowan,” she started to say, but Rowan cut her off.

“I'm not going to the kitchens.”

She pouted, although he couldn't see her. “Please?” she knew that if she used her manners, then he would do just about anything.

But it didn't work. Not just yet. “There's some fruit in the bowl.”

“I ate them all.” He sighed heavily, knowing that he was losing this conversation. “Please? I am your mate, your wife, the mother of your children.”

Rowan snorted. “Really? I was starting to suspect that the three silver-haired children were Lorcan's.”

Her hunger nearly disappeared at the thought of that. “Don't be gross.” Reaching over, Aelin kissed the tip of his ear, smiling as he shuddered in pleasure as she nibbled on it. “Please?”

Rowan sighed heavily, knowing that he lost, and Aelin barely hid her smile. “I'll go,” he said. “But only if you join me.”

Her smile did disappear at that. “But the bed is so warm.”

“Exactly. If I have to leave it, so do you.”

“Fine,” she mumbled reluctantly, but quickly perked up, realising that she would be getting food. Rowan was a much better cook than her. Aelin used to have basic cooking skills, but with being Queen and then becoming a mother, she never cooked anymore and really had no need to; not with multiple cooks under the palace roof. She did try a few years ago as a treat for her family, but everything turned into a crisp and wasn't even suitable for the dogs in the kennels.

Scrambling out of bed, the Queen and King of Terrasen tied on their robes and put on their slippers. Aelin loved the sight of Rowan looking so domestic, it was ridiculous how much she loved it.

Since Isolde was only six months old and far too young to be left behind, Rowan put her in the wooden carrier to take with them into the kitchens, their movements silent as the grave as they transferred their youngest from her crib and into the crafty carrier—Isolde was the only one of their children that slept soundlessly through the night at such a young age, and loathed to be woken up. As Rowan did that, Aelin checked in on Alder in his room, their son a little over three years old, but he slept like a log and Aelin knew that he wouldn't wake up at any point when they were gone.

As they left their chambers, Aelin nearly ruined all their good work and almost woke up their other children when she bit out a curse at the sudden leg cramp that shot up her right calf. Rowan glanced at her, asking if she was okay, and after a moment she was, although she was left a little dazed at the suddenness of it all.

Aelin's legs had been cramping randomly of late, but she didn't notice anything of concern. If it continued, she would go to Magnolia and see if anything could be done about it. The last thing Aelin needed was to fall ill, she had far too many things to do with winter arriving in a few weeks. She did know that if anything was wrong with her, that she could rely on Rowan completely.

Aelin's stomach growled for the umpteenth time, the sound lasting for a good minute before it settled. Isolde fidgeted in her sleep, but did not wake.

“I think your stomach was just trying to talk to me.”

“It was,” Aelin agreed. “It said that we need to hurry the hell up or it's going to disintegrate.”

“We better do as it says then. It'd be cruel to subject Terrasen to a hungry Queen. No one should suffer as I do when you're starving.”

“You make me sound horrible.”

“You are,” he said, humour dancing in his dark eyes. “And not just when you're hungry.”

Aelin mumbled under her breath. Rowan decided to pretend not to hear her, even as he fought a smile.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the kitchens, Rowan placing Isolde onto the counter closest to them. Aelin rushed towards the bowls of fruit, grabbing an apple and a pear, eating the fruits simultaneously. She missed the small, private smile Rowan gave her as he went to the pantry, asking her what she was in the mood for, one eye on their child. But still, she slept and Rowan for a moment, wished that all of their children had been like that, but knew that there was no point in complaining when they all slept quietly now.

“Something filling,” was all Aelin could think of to say. But after a moment decided on an omelette, filled with bacon, mushrooms, onion, red bell-peppers and carrot. As she and Rowan prepped the ingredients—with Rowan wanting his own omelette—Aelin contemplated in silence, her brows furrowed as she chopped up the carrots.

“What are you thinking about, Fireheart?” Rowan asked when he noticed his wife's expression.

“Just trying to remember the last time I was this hungry. I've been like this for at least a week and a half.”

“I've noticed. You haven't had this big of an appetite for a good number of years.”

She didn't comment on that, lost in her own world. “And my legs have been cramping lately too. I haven't injured myself. Have I been sleeping in strange positions?”

“No, you're sleeping just fine.”

Her frown deepened. “Maybe I'm just stressed for the winter preparations.”

“Possibly, I know that you worry a lot for the people during winter.” They both did, as the winters in Terrasen were brutal. Each year there was always a small number of people that passed due to the cold for a number of reasons. When those lists made their way in Aelin's hands, it always hit her hard, her guilt a palpable thing, even after Rowan would tell her that it was in no way her fault.

But that wasn't the reasons for her consuming hunger and leg cramps—Rowan had noticed the change in her scent weeks ago and when he noticed, he thought that Aelin would too. But she was completely oblivious and he didn't want to spoil the surprise, although it was getting harder each day not to say something.

However, he couldn't help but count back the weeks to the day of conception. He was fairly certain that it was when Aelin had been reading a particularly steamy novel on the window seat in their sitting room and jumped on him like they had never had sex before when he had come to ask if she was joining him in bed.

It would fit in with list of unusual places they have conceived their children. Elentiya had been in the library (either in the archives or in Aelin and Rowan's private nook, neither were sure), Norrin against an oak tree (which they discovered after they have calmed down that the Little Folk had watched the entire encounter, with Aelin becoming stuck between wanting to laugh or hide under a rock), Alder against one of the many palace chimneys, and Isolde in a linen closet.

Maybe one day they would conceive a child in their bed like most people did.

They got to cooking, with Rowan standing behind Aelin and guiding her with the wooden spoon and plating their midnight meal before it burned into a crisp. Isolde babbled in her sleep as the sounds of cooking reached her, but still slept. It wouldn't be long, however, until she woke up to be fed. Aelin placed their youngest by her feet as they sat down at the small dining table in the far corner of the kitchen where the workers took their breaks.

The smile on Aelin's face as she bit into the fluffy omelette was certainly worth being woken up in the middle of the night.

However, her fork stilled in mid-air when she was halfway done when realisation dawned on her.

Finally.

“I'm pregnant,” was all she said, her Ashryver eyes growing wide. Rowan didn't bother to hide his smile. This was why he didn't say anything. It was always worth it when she revealed those beautiful words to him. “Rowan, I'm pregnant. The last time I was this hungry was when I was pregnant with Alder and the leg cramps are from Norrin's pregnancy. And all the fruit I can't stop eating is just like when I was pregnant with Isolde. How haven't I noticed anything?”

“You've been busy,” Rowan said, reaching over to take her hands in his and kissed her fingers.

“You knew, didn't you?” Aelin asked, her eyes narrowed just slightly.

“I may have noticed.”

“You should have told me.”

“I like it better when you come to the realisation yourself,” he said simply.

Aelin shot out of her seat and sat on his lap, a pretty smile gracing her face as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers playing the the hair at the nape of his neck. Rowan wound his arms around her waist and kissed her on the cheeks, the tips of her nose, the corner of her lips and then her mouth.

Aelin hummed contentedly and kissed him back. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his.

“We're insane.”

Rowan laughed deeply at the sudden statement. “What makes you say that?”

“We're having a fifth baby. Lorcan and Elide only have three and I always thought that they'd have at least a dozen, but they don't and we're about to have five. That's insane. We're insane.”

“We are, but I like that about us,” he said, kissing her again. Her face was open and soft, her eyes dancing with happiness, but he still found himself asking, “Are you okay with it?”

“Of course I am, buzzard. More than words can say.” Aelin kissed him to emphasise that fact, his hand reaching down onto her belly and was content to stay like that forever. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was. She always thought that she’d just have one child, maybe two, but to have five was something she never dreamed of.

Isolde finally decided to wake up and scream her displeasure at being hungry. Aelin was off him in an instant, cooing at their daughter as Aelin sat back in her seat and fed not just herself, but Isolde at the same time. His mate was spectacular at multitasking like that.

They couldn't wait to meet their fifth child.

X X X X X X

Rowan was surprised that his children hadn't kicked down the doors to the bedchamber with how excited they were. Even little Isolde was a ball of energy and she was by far their most quiet child. Rowan lead them to their mother, reminding them that they had to be quiet and gentle, because mama had just gone through a long process of bringing in their new sibling into the world.

They entered the bedchamber and Aelin greeted them with a tired but loving smile telling them to come meet their new sister, the kids went onto the bed, surrounding Aelin and the baby, happiness and wonderment in their eyes as they took in the little bundle of joy, her silver hair stark against her lightly tanned skin. She had opened her eyes briefly during her first feeding and Aelin had groaned playfully when she spotted that they were pine-green, muttering how of course I labour for a whole day to give birth to another you. But he knew that she didn't care if she was born with green hair and yellow eyes, Aelin loved her immensely.

“What's her name, mama?” Elentiya asked softly, carefully trailing a finger down her sisters cheek.

“Elowynn-Yrene.” Rowan would never forget the pure joy in Yrene's eyes when Aelin asked if the healer would give them her blessing to grace their child with her name, as a thank you for all the years of coming down and helping Aelin, for eradicating Erawan, and for being a great friend to both of them. It had taken them a few minutes to convince their friend, citing that the honour was far too much, but Yrene eventually said "yes".

“That's pretty,” Alder supplied, a wide smile on his face. Aelin kissed his temple and thanked him for his kind words.

Aelin moved her eyes from Alder to Rowan, smiling as her mate stood there, taking them in.

His family, their family. Never did he think he would be so blessed to have this.

His and Aelin's children; the most beautiful thing Rowan had ever seen.

Rowan went and joined his family on the bed, the smile on his face one of Aelin's favourites.

[its-deputy-caleb]

hellllooooo amigo

so I was wondering if you could write a lil fic about Micah mentioning his birthday is soon but not expecting anyone to care about it but then the reader surprises him with a present and Micah’s like :O

I’ve had this idea stuck in my head for the past week lmao but if it ain’t your thing or if you’ve done something similar before then don’t worry about it my g :)

howdyy amigo <33 so i had all these good ideas and then i was writing and the creative block hit HARD so i high key hate this and its a mess but i hope i pulled through in the end and i kinda went a little off topic but oops enjoy anyway :0

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

You never really gave a thought to Micah’s birthday. Not because you didn’t want to celebrate it but simply because he never mentioned it to you. It wasn’t really a tradition to celebrate a gang members birthday although the group would never pass up a chance for drinking. Mostly those celebrations were reserved for big scores.

For some of the special members of the gang however, there were celebrations. On Dutch’s the whole gang would practically feast and party for the entire week and for Miss Grimshaw Javier would perform while Sean gave a right old toast. Dutch even insisted on a party for Molly and you laughed at Karen and Mary Beth who whined the entire night about “Miss fancy pants needing her own royal party”.

Of course even for the other members you’d notice when it was their birthday. You’d seen when close friends of Arthur leave gifts beside your own at his tent and for Jack’s birthday John and Abigail tolerated each other enough to spoil the boy with gifts surrounded by family.

That’s why you thought it was rather odd when Micah, your sweetheart never told you about his birthday. You thought he may have damn well forgot it when you overheard him one night with Bill.

He was mumbling into a bottle of whiskey, half on his way to passing out when he mentioned he was getting too old with another birthday coming up in a few days. Of course the bastard wouldn’t tell you, for all his boasting he’d never been one for parties or celebrating.

So with that in mind you spent the rest of the night formulating a plan to at least celebrate his birthday between the two of you.

-

You’d learnt from Bill the next morning, who wasn’t nearly half as drunk (or hungover) as Micah that his birthday was in exactly three days.

So that left you with three days to formulate just how you’d surprise the man you’d come to love so dearly for his birthday.

Coming up with a celebration was relatively easy— he wasn’t one for crowds, he enjoyed your company and only yours alone and he loved a good whiskey so naturally you’d take him away from the gang’s camp and head down to the Dakota river for the night.

It was finding a good gift that had you tearing your hair out. It was hard trying to find something that would be personal enough for Micah to appreciate when the man in question held few personal belongings, and naturally a new revolver was completely out of the question.

-

You decided to give up on your mission to find him a gift after nearly chewing Swanson’s ear off for singing while you were trying to think and rethink your gift.

So with a new formed headache you headed into valentine to purchase a nice and rather expensive whiskey for tomorrow night.

On your way out of the general store you noticed a beautiful Dutch Warmblood horse trot into the stable behind his owner. The horse had a large white spot over his leg and it couldn’t’ help but remind you of Baylock.

Bingo.

Smiling to yourself you put the whiskey in your saddle bag and walked into the stables to buy Micah his birthday gift, one you’re sure he’s going to love more over any new jacket or gunbelt.

-

Micah’s day went about relatively normally for the most part, waking up together with a kiss and a coffee but you couldn’t help be slightly more affectionate than usual.

You’d spent most of the day together, Micah talking with you while you did chores and you talking with him while he (reluctantly) sat on guard duty. All the normal things about the day went on and you kept your secret until the sun was just about to dip over the mountain.

Micah was leaning against a tree, sharpening his knife when you came up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. You played with the ends of his hair, taking in the sight of him as he holstered the knife and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’ve got something for you.”

You leant forward and placed a soft kiss to his cheek, smiling against his skin at the curious sound he made.

“Hmm? You sure that something isn’t right here in front of me sweetheart?”

You giggle softly as Micah tries to pull you in closer for a proper kiss, deciding to indulge in his wishes for once. It was his birthday after all.

Pulling away from the surprisingly tender kiss, you give him a gentle smile as you untangle yourself from his arms.

“Common, let me show you.”

You take Micah by the hand, almost dragging him to the other side of camp by the horses which drew the attention from a few of the gang members but you didn’t have a care in the world as anticipation grew.

Leading him over to Baylock who is newly saddled, you watched as Micah stared blankly at it before tentatively bringing a hand up to feel over the soft premium leather.

The saddle was all black to match Baylock’s coat with white inlay in the seat and silver on the horn. All of it was the finest quality at your request and even the bedroll was a finer cotton than most.

Micah couldn’t help the smile that broke out onto his face and he turned to you looking like a kid on Christmas.

“You get this for little old me?”

Your own smile matched his as you wrapped your arms back around his neck once more.

“Well I thought since you’d never ever want another revolver and there isn’t much more you love than those guns and Baylock that you’d want a new saddle for him.”

Micah brought you in for a tight hug after that, managing to lift you slightly as you clung to him for dear life. He looked up at you from your new position.

“Sweetheart there ain’t nothing I love more than I do you—“

He sets you back on the ground, leaning in for a kiss but letting your noses bump and your foreheads touch.

“—worth more to me than any ol’ revolver, I love you.”

You close the gap between the two of you, melting into each other as you feel just how much Micah is in love with you.

“I love you too Mikey, and happy birthday— do you like it?”

The look you give him is one of hope and he can’t help but nod and wrap his arms tighter around your waist.

“Course I like it, but yer didn’t need to pay for this. Looks real fancy.”

Micah looked over the saddle once more, his eyes beaming as he saw how well it complemented Baylock’s coat. He was impressed, of course by the gift but because you had cared enough to get it for him and it only confirmed the feelings he had for you.

“Who says I paid for it?”

You saw Micah smirk at your comment and give a low evil laugh.

“That’s my sweetheart I know and love.”

Of course this time you had paid for the saddle, one of the few items you were willing to pay for but that didn’t mean the two of you didn’t steal practically everything else.

You pull away from Micah and hoist yourself up onto Baylock’s saddle, holding your hand out to a very confused looking Micah.

“Common you, I’ve got a nice bottle of whiskey and two glasses waiting for us.”

-

Down by the river you and Micah were perched up on a large rock that was floating in some shallow water by the river bank. You’d hidden the glasses and whiskey in a tree and the two of you were now laughing together as you drank through it slowly.

Your head was resting under his chin while his arm that wasn’t holding his glass was draped over your shoulder. The moonlight reflecting off the water was more than enough for the two of you to see as he topped up your glass for you.

“Gosh so how old are you now?”

Your words were light and charismatic, the two of you giggling about all sorts of things that night. Micah looked up in contemplation, humming as if he was trying to remember.

“Ehh must be close to forty now— thirty nine I think.”

You whistled, only to cut yourself off with a small laugh as you raised the glass to your mouth.

“You are getting old Mr.Bell, the next thing you know I’ll be able to outshoot you.”

“Sweetheart you can already outshoot me…”

Despite the lighthearted tone of the conversation, you noticed how Micah got uncharacteristically quiet.

“Micah? Are you alright?”

You sit up to face Micah, noticing the flush on his cheeks which wasn’t the fault of the whiskey and the way his attention was on sloshing the liquid in the glass.

“I am gettin’ old sweetheart, at least in terms o’ outlaws—“

“Micah what are you saying?”

You stare at him confused, completely unprepared for what he says next.

“— ‘m saying that i love you and yer the only one I’d ever wanna grow old with.”

Your eyes widen, in fear? in hope? You weren’t quite sure, maybe it was shock at the fact Micah Bell had said he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

“B-but I thought you didn’t want redemption!? I thought you never wanted to leave the gang, this life!”

Micah shakes his head, putting down your glasses and taking his hands in yours as he squeezes them to reassure himself more than anything.

“I didn’t— I don’t. Oh hell I don’t know what I want but I would throw it all away for you, if its what you wanted.”

He seems to regain some of his confidence after a deep breath and he waves his hands in front of you as he tries to formulate what he wants to say.

“Ya’know have a house and all that…”

You smile gently, your heart melting at the thought that Micah would give up everything for you. You lean forward, taking his hands and threading your fingers before kissing him.

The kiss depends as you momentarily forget where you are and you both start to let your hands wander lower over each other until Micah knocks the glass of whiskey over.

Pulling back from where you’d almost crawled on top of him, you smile sheepishly and sit back down on the rock. This time you sit between Micah’s legs so his arms can rest in your lap and his head can rest on your shoulder.

“Well a house and all that can wait since I’m perfectly happy growing old with you robbing and thieving our way across the plains.”

Your head rests against his own as you feel him litter soft kisses over your shoulder and neck.

“Sounds like something I could get used to.”

Micah whispers his words against your skin and the two of you enjoy the peace and each other’s company. Your hand gives his own a reassuring squeeze, letting your eyes close as you relax and listen to the sound of the river flowing.

“As long as I have you and get to celebrate a hundred more birthdays with you, I’ll be the happiest person in the world.”

Micah squeezes your hand back, sitting up so you could get comfortable against his chest as he rests his chin on top of your head.

“Not sure ‘bout a hundred but you have me for as long as this world lets me darlin’”

You hum sleepily, getting closer and closer to sleep as you listen to his gravelly voice.

“Promise?”

“I Promise”

[a-dorin]

mishap

pairing: din djarin x reader 

word count: 1.402k

warnings: angst, cursing, spoilers, spoilers, spoilers for chapter fifteen (u have been warned !!!) a lil bit of crying, some yelling, slight canon divergence from chapter fifteen 

a/n: hey y’all. i don’t really have much to say about this one other than to avoid it because it contains spoilers from chapter fifteen. this is a very self-indulgent blurb/fic too ahah. i hope you guys like it! :’))

“you know,” an elbow gently digs into your rib-cage, “he’s quite the looker. you got yourself a good one.”

you pause, nearly tripping over your own two feet, “what are you talking about?”

migs mayfield arches a brow, “oh shit. i -- uh, uhm.”

“you were the one who retrieved the coordinates, right?” 

mayfield hesitates, bringing a hand to the back of his neck, “yeah, yeah. i was the one who retrieved the coordinates. your uh -- lover boy was the one who stood guard.”

your gaze darts over to the mandalorian only a few steps ahead, the beskar gleaming as rays of light filtered in through the leaves, “mayfield, is there something you’re not telling me?”

a twig snaps under his foot, causing him to stiffen, “no, no. the mission was a success. we managed to get what we needed, then we got out.”

“right,” you affirm, “was there a reason why you complimented di-- mando, then?”

“oh you know,” mayfield shrugs, “you know what they say. there’s always beauty beneath the helmet. he probably has some luscious locks of golden--”

“no one fucking says that,” you snort, readjusting the blaster situated in your belt, “listen, if there’s something you’re not telling me, i won’t hesitate to tell them to take your ass right back to garbage planet.”

“garbage planet,” mayfield scoffs, “yeah, i’m jumping for joy to return to that shit show.”

clenching your jaw, you can’t help but notice din as he strides towards the two of you, fennec and cara in tow. fennec is quiet, lips etched together in a solemn frown while cara carries a smug smirk on her face. almost as if she was about to deal out a brutal blow to the prisoner now turned comrade. 

boba fett’s ship was stationed nearly a few hundred feet away, hatch opened, ready for the next step of the plan. as much as you wanted to focus on retrieving grogu, as much as you needed to maintain a level-head, you couldn’t. 

there was something about the way mayfield seemed so sincere only minutes ago that had your mind reeling, anxiety, confusion, and hurt bubbling up. 

did din really break his own creed? 

fennec shoulders past the huddle, sharing a brief moment of eye contact with you. her brow furrowed with concern, but she kept moving, sauntering over to the ship. 

“i wanted to thank you for your help,” din’s tone is nearly monotone, yet, you can sense an inflection of gratitude. 

“it wasn’t a problem,” mayfield dips his head. 

“i never realized that you were such a good shot,” cara chuckles.

“oh, you saw that?” mayfield’s eyes widen, lips curling into a cheeky grin, “what happened back there was from a lot of pent up stuff. besides, don’t you have to arrest me or something? you guys got a kid to save.”

“not any kid,” cara cuts in, motioning her head towards din, “his kid.”

“well no shit officer,” mayfield rolls his eyes, droning on, “good luck, and i mean that.”

“you know,” cara swivels on her heel, folding her arms across her chest, “it’s a real shame that the prisoner died in that explosion.”

in an instant, you notice the way mayfield’s entire demeanor shifts. his lips part, the smile broadening, “w-what? what are you talking about?”

“yeah,” din adds, placing a hand on mayfield’s shoulder, “what a shame.”

mayfield gives the three of you once last look of gratitude, cara clearing her throat, “so, what’s our next move?”

din exhales, “we move forward.”

within minutes, boba is punching in coordinates to your next destination. however, something about the aura that filled the air told you that you were not traveling for grogu quite yet. the air was still, almost stagnant, nowhere near the static, adrenaline-inducing battle preparation you were used to. the tiny ship was quiet, the hum of the engine white noise in your ears. 

it feel as if there were just a few more loose ends to tie up. a few more pit-stops. 

the quiet before the storm. 

din was in close proximity, one hand on your thigh, the other resting on his helmet. fennec sat in the cockpit with boba, filling him in on the run-in while cara joined them, providing you and din with a little bit of privacy. 

which, you already knew what happened. there was almost nothing to say. 

“you’re quiet.”

his voice, so calm and cool, brings you to reality, away from the thoughts tormenting your mind. 

“it’s been a long day,” the words were nearly silent, barely a mumble. 

din coughs, hand squeezing your thigh, “you don’t have to lie to me.”

“mayfield said something,” it takes everything in you to keep your eyes off him, to keep staring at the metallic floor, “it just rubbed me the wrong way.”

“what did he say?”

you bite your lip, formulating some sort of way to say it. to say what you want to say without sounding selfish. 

“um,” you inhale sharply, “he said you were good-looking. and that i was lucky to have a man like you.”

you stiffen as din chuckles. yet, it’s strained, almost forced, “did you believe it?”

“i don’t think he’s a liar.”

“he’s a--”

“was there a mishap back there? did something happen that no one else is supposed to be aware of?” 

tears brim your lids, shame burning through you. maker, were you so selfish for this. for accusing din of abandoning a creed he’d known his whole life. the hand slides off your thigh, settling on his own lap. 

silence overcomes the space, eerie and unforgiving.

there’s a clink of beskar as din leans his head back, his posture so painfully still. 

“there was a mishap. things weren’t going as planned. i had to--”

“you don’t have to continue,” you shake your head, “i knew it the moment mayfield let it slip. i can’t imagine how awful that was.”

“i’m surprised you’re taking it so well,” his voice is hushed, “you’ve been begging me for months to see one glimpse of my face. just one. yet, it was a necessary cause. it was so that they could get a scan of my face, for the coordinates.”

“so the imperials know what you look like too?” a single tear rolls down your cheek, splattering on the fabric of your trousers. 

“i’m not sure about that one.” 

“i see,” you whisper, shifting away from din. 

“hey,” his hand hovers above your knee, “you can tell me how frustrated you are about this. i know it’s a sensitive subject between us. if anything, i wish it was you in there with me. but it was just the cards we were dealt, okay? there was nothing i could do.”

lifting your head, eyes connect with the inky black visor, “were you scared?”

“terrified.”

there was something about his voice, how it seemed so broken and vulnerable. this was a man donned in one of the most resilient, most strong material of the galaxy, who was stripped away of his familiarity, a simple, three-word creed that had shaped his entire existence. 

your heart shatters at the mere thought of how utterly terrified din must had been, how he flinched when the imperials spoke to him. how his eyes probably darted between mayfield and the nearest exit, desperate and guilty.

a way out. a way of the gut-wrenching feeling that was threatening to consume him whole. 

yet, din sacrificed those mere minutes of vulnerability in order to save his child. grogu, the tiny creature who he had grown an immense attachment to. 

and maker, how you loved din immensely for making that sacrifice. 

leaning forward you press your forward, nearly flinching at the cool sensation, “i’m sorry.”

a hand cups the back of your skull, “you don’t have to be sorry.”

“i just can’t even imagine how surreal it all felt to show your face in front of--”

“it’s over now,” he murmurs, “it was nothing compared to the fear that consumed me when i left you with grogu at those rocks. i thought they took you too. i was petrified, cyar’ika, absolutely petrified.”

“they still have him, ya know,” your lashes flutter as you let out a shaky breath, “we still have a long road ahead of us, din.”

“i know, and as long as i have you by my side, i know i can do anything.”

[binniesthighs]

what you heard | reader x changjin

a/n: hi. its missing changjin hours also now I am addicted to poly r/ship fics so here is what my brain came up with hehe (pic creds to OPs!) 

what you heard | reader x changjin 

Pairing: self insert, hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader x seo changbin 

Genre: smut w/ fluffy tones 

Tags: poly r/ship, comfort fic, outdoors sex, friends to lovers, discovery of feelings, idiots in love, with a lil bit of comedy, college au, teehee switch!changbin, switch!hyunjin, switch!reader, they’re all kinda fighting for dominance muhaha (its those bestie vibes ahaha), bratty behavior on all sides, jinnie kinda flips a switch when he gets in the mood (hehe pun intended), spitroasing (r), unprotected sex (stay safe!), sex under the stars hehe, penetration and fingering (r), oral (r & m), face fucking, cumshot, cum eating, that good, good makin’ out, soft and intimate body touching hell yeah, fluffy ending

Word count: 6.8k 

Recommended listening: what you heard by Sonder 

If there was something that you and your two bestfriends were the best at, it was getting your heart broken. 

Hopeless romantics you all were, in one way or another. In fact, it would take even more than your set of three hands to count the number of times that the three of you had come over with a broken heart, seeking ice cream, hugs, or plates to break. 

Changbin was the kind to fall in love slowly, but when he did, it consumed him, and everything that he was. He would become convinced that there was no one better for him in the whole world. He would spend sleepless night writing songs and poetry about those who would occupy his mind. Changbin would write love letter after love letter to never send them, or to have them crinkled into papery balls, and slam-dunked into his waste bin. He would often joke that he was ready to love someone, but he just didn’t quite know how to. Under it all, you and Hyunjin knew that he must’ve been scared if they didn’t love him back. 

Hyunjin fell in love with people at the drop of a hat. It was his “fatal flaw” as he liked to to joke about too. The gorgeous blond man would fall in love over hearts scribbled on coffee cups, smiles in passing, and compliments on days when he had caught the bus late. This man was the kind to sing love songs loudly in the shower no matter who heard him, and would often have a new crush by the week. Unlike Changbin, he had no fear when it came to confessing, but had even worse luck getting someone to take his words seriously. Hyunjin had too much love to give, and never received enough back. 

You, on the other hand, delayed love for as long as you could, no matter how much that you would dream of it. Love came to you in the forms of movies and books, fictional characters and song lyrics. You wrote about the love you had to give in countless journals and on the back of sticky-notes that had been used on the front-side. Love was more of an abstract concept to you. It was never something that you could touch but rather dream about. However, while this wasn’t the worst way to view it all, you still thirsted for something more. A hand to hold, a warm body to tangle up in the sheets with you. 

On this day in particular, you and your friends had gathered for a meeting: your “Unofficial Lonely Hearts Club” as you called it. You couldn’t recall who had called the meeting after the long week that you had, but it was likely what each of you had needed. 

These nights would often start the same: the three of you shoved into Changbin’s pickup, windows down, night air in your lungs, some song on the stereo that Changbin had been into these days. The three of you lived in the typical college city nestled into the side of some mountainside--a stark contrast to where you had come from before. It was the kind of place where people went to forget about who they were before to become new people. For some reason, some crazy fraction of the people who moved there, never left. 

First chance you got, you would move the hell out of there: a place full of so much heartbreak and disappointment…who could dare to stay? 

Hyunjin stuck his hand out the window, making little waves with his palm in the wind. You wondered what he had been thinking of that night; if he was sad or if he was happy. After knowing him for nearly four years now, you knew there was nothing in the world that he deserved more than to feel all the warmth that he had conveyed to others. It was a crime that he never got it back. 

Changbin’s free arm held to the handle above the car door frame, and he flexed and relaxed his muscles as he hung his fingers there. You too wondered what thoughts floated on his mind: if he was making up lyrics or if he was putting together some grad story or gesture only for it to never see the light of day. He too deserved all the love the world could offer. 

Changbin’s car sped up the dirt road to the lookout spot where kids would go to get drunk, high, or possibly both. It was a dreary and empty Wednesday evening, and secretly you hoped that no other rambunctious students would be there to shatter bottles on the craggy rocks. His headlights lit the path ahead, and the car bounced on the rough road with dusty orange rocks. The higher you got to the mountainside, the more static-y the stereo would buzz until soon all that was left were broken lyrics. 

There was one spot you liked particularly: it was a ledge that would jut out horizontally, giving a clear view to the whole of the land below: you would see the white lights from the nearby hospital, and the stadium lights from that god-awful football stadium that had sucked up your student loans. Further, you could see river on the edge of the city-line, and how it would ripple in dark blue sparkles under the moonlight. 

Your two best friends would grab the blankets that were habitually kept in the backseat made of scratchy wool, but this only made them warmer. Changbin also kept a couple camping lamps in his car to light up the dark space of his cargo bed. The weight of your bodies would shake the space and make the car bounce a bit on its wheels when the three of you would cuddle up between eachother to take in the scene. 

On nights like tonight, neither of you would say much, but just look out and feel it all. There was a kind of beauty in the simplicity of the way that everything seemed so still up there, or how time had appeared to stop somewhat. If you were lucky, you could hear the hoot of an owl, or some other critter rustling in the bushes. 

Hyunjin was always the one to sit in the middle, and he would take turns resting his head upon your shoulder or Changbin’s sighing deeply into how they would rise and fall. You hugged your knees to yourself and wondered how many more times you would come up here with them, or if after graduation, it would happen at all. It was painful to consider, but you even wondered if they would be in your life at all after everything ended. 

“I’m sick of being lonely.” Hyunjin said into the cold air. He shifted, looking both you and your other friend in the eyes. “Its depressing and exhausting.” 

“What are you talking bout ‘Jin?” Changbin threw his hoodie over his head.

“I mean moping about people who don’t ever feel the same...feeling sad when it doesn’t go my way...I’m sick of it!! I just wanna like, give up!! Would it be so hard for me to just like, stop feeling??” 

“Oh Jinnie...don’t be ridiculous. You can’t just stop falling in love with people. It’s impossible. Not just for you but...” You exhaled out, “...for all of us.” 

“Yeeeah, I don’t think that you have much control over that.” Changbin agreed. 

“No, seriously!! It’s shit!!” 

You wrapped your arms around him lovingly, nuzzling into his shoulder to sooth him, “I know, I know.” 

“Aren’t you guys sick of it?? The three of us must be cursed or something.” 

Changbin laughed out his little trademark chuckle and ruffled up his friends blond locks. “You’re being dramatic again Hyunjin. It’s not that bad.” 

“Psh! Says you who hasn’t gone on a date in months!” 

“Hey!!” 

You flicked both of your friends on the sides of their heads. “Cut it out, will you? We came up here to relax and forget all that stuff, remember?” 

Hyunjin gave out a sign in his exasperation, turning to fiddle with his little Bluetooth speaker that had definitely seen better days. The last crickets of the season chirped in the early fall air, and the little device booted up with the tiny ringtone that you knew well. 

“Anything we want to listen to in particular?” 

“Whatever you feel like Jinnie.” 

The little blue-white light of his phone illuminated his face, and Hyunjin picked a song that you had likely heard dozens of times before. It was from that artist that he had adored to bits, but only really listened to when he was feeling down. 

“Oh Jinnie.” You hushed, then wrapped your arm around his wide shoulder. “No one deserves you.” 

Changbin let his head fall on the other boy’s shoulder too. When the three of you were close like this with your body heat shared between you, it was cozier than anything imaginable. While you and your two friends weren’t the most touchy of people, there were still times when you could huddle up, and it was no secret that it felt safer than anything. 

Hyunjin chuckled a bit, causing his shoulders to shake. “You know what they say in those movies about people who can’t find love after long?” 

“What’s that?” 

“They say, “By the time that we turn thirty, if neither of us have found love, lets just marry eachother.”” 

Changbin scoffed, “And you’re bringing this up why?” 

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be the most ridiculous idea if the three of us decided to do that, right? Seeing how the current trend is going?” 

You exchanged adoring and teasing glances with Changbin over your adorably naïve friend. 

“I think you’re missing something out of that equation Jin.” 

His doe-eyes widened, “What’s that?” 

“In all of those movies, it was usually two people who made that promise.” 

“Two people, three people, what does it matter? As of right now, its looking like the only people that we’ve got is eachother.” 

Hyunjin stretched out his hands into his sweater paws and made a little squeak when he cracked his back. 

“What do you say?”

“Hm.” Changbin cleared his throat, “So you’re being serious?” 

“What’s so crazy about it?” Convinced as ever, he counted out the points on his fingers, “We could all live together like we’ve always talked about, we’ll never be lonely and have someone to do things with, we don’t have to be second guessing ever, waiting for someone to call us back...we all already know eachother really well so there will be no surprises...” 

“Oh, so you are being serious about it then?” You ruffled his hair up a bit, just to get a rise out of him like it usually would. 

“I mean...it’s not like it would be hard...right?” 

Changbin sucked at his teeth, “Mm. I guess not.” 

“But isn’t a marriage supposed to be like, having kids, being in love, being...partners?” You added. 

Hyunjin stammered with frantic hands, “W-well, we don’t have to do everything!! Marriage is so conventional these days, we don’t have to follow all the rules, especially since there will be the three of us anyway.” 

Changbin sighed, casting his head up to the ocean-blue sky dotted with silvery constellations and the red blinking lights of airplanes overhead. 

“You’re still forgetting something Jinnie.” 

The blond tiled his head. 

“The part about being in love?” 

The tallest boy shied his hair behind his ear, then tucked his chin into one of the blankets. 

“I mean...I know that I love you guys. I wouldn’t mind spending the time...” 

Your chest buzzed with warmth hearing your friend say it for the first time. It previously had been somewhat of an unspoken phrase between the three of you, but now that he had said it out loud, it felt even more real. 

“Awww, I love you too Jinnie.” 

Changbin scoffed once more and picked with the fraying ends of the blanket. “I guess I do too.” 

The cargo bed grew silent while the three of you chewed on the idea. The longer you thought about it, it started to make sense bit by bit. After all, through all the confusion and the broken hearts, ice cream and broken plates, your little group understood each other better than most. When there were tears to dry, each of you knew exactly what to do. You had loved them all along, you always had. 

“I really love you guys...I think.” Hyunjin finally said, and linked his arms with yours and the other man’s. 

“What are you doing getting all cheesy for, huh?” Changbin nudged him with a smirk. 

“I don’t know, I guess I just never really thought about it like that before.” 

“Like what?” 

“Out of all the people that I’ve “loved” I don’t think that I’ve ever loved them like I have with you both.” 

“What do you mean?” Under the swath of blankets, your knee nudged against his, and he jumped a bit from the feeling. 

Both you and Changbin looked at him attentively and how his lip quivered, and soft eyes glistened from the glow of the lanterns. 

“M-maybe all along...I’ve been in love with you?” 

“Like, in love, in love?” 

“I don’t know...maybe?” He rubbed his eyes like he would’ve had they been lured with sleep. “Maybe I’m just, making things up...I don’t know. It’s getting late.” He laughed out with a tentative breath, “I’m saying things that don’t make sense.”  

Changbin looked out at the stretch of city lights as if he was contemplating the idea himself. 

“I guess that it wouldn’t be impossible.” He said blankly. 

“What!?” You tried to look at both of your best friends as seriously as you could. While your heart started racing, it was as if it was against your will. 

“It’s kinda funny,” Changbin began, “The three of us always complain about how love never really comes our way when we’ve already got it...right here.” 

Logically speaking, it made sense. You and your two best friends really did know eachother better than anyone else ever had. When you had met as scared little 1st years without a clue in the world how to be your own people. You had figured it all out together. The ways that you had showed love to each other had been a bit different--but it was still all the same. If you were to have not met them all those years ago, your life would’ve been drastically different. You couldn’t even picture it. 

Perhaps in all of your little rambles in journals and daydreams, was what you were looking for...them?

“Maybe we were just looking in the wrong place?” You offered, and both of them shrugged. 

“It’s possible.” Hyunjin pulled both of your arms closer to him, and rubbed his cheek into the top of your head, then Changbin’s dark curls. He giggled out, tackling the two of you to lay flat on the cargo bed. It crinkled with a plastic sounding thud, then he wrapped his legs up in both of yours the best that he could. 

Under his arm, you choked a little from his tight grasp, but you eventually let yourself mold into the curves of his body and soak up his warmth. The scratchy wool tickled at your cold fingers, and you soon felt Changbin’s hand come searching for you under the blanket too. It was a bit startling at first, but he reached out to hold your arm, then rubbed small circles into it with his thumb where you rested them on Hyunjin’s chest. 

It was as if he was a bit delirious, but Hyunjin chortled with laugher until he had lost his breath, and his lyrical sounding voice bounced off the cavern of the mountain and echoed up into space. 

“Why do I...weirdly...kinda...wanna make out with you guys right now?” 

Changbin pinched his friend with a teasing grin, “You mean it?” 

Hyunjin pouted with his plush pink lips, “I thought we all just agreed that we were in love with eachother??” 

“Jinnie...” You settled your head into the crook of his neck, right by his collarbones. 

“Damn. Glad I’m not the only one.” Changbin bit a smirk into his lip, then propped himself up on his forearm to gain better ground on you and the other man. 

Your fluttering heart beat it’s way up your throat and into your ears, and your two friends looked at you expectantly. 

“O-outside? Right now?” 

“Yeah, I guess. Why not?” Changbin traced his thumb and index under Hyunjin’s smooth jaw. 

“Aha! So you admit that you want to too!!” Hyunjin beamed and tugged at the sleeves of your own hoodie. 

“I-I didn’t say that...” 

Hyunjin leaned over on his side to face you. “Y/n, how about lets make a deal. We try it out, see how it feels, if it feels weird, we stop and pretend it never happened?” 

“I don’t know Jinnie...this seems pretty friendship ending to me.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Changbin said with a sly grin. 

The tallest boy pleaded to you with nearly needy eyes. “I think that it would feel nice? Besides...none of us have really...felt that...in a while.” 

Changbin’s creeping hands came surveying over Hyunjin’s deep green pullover, and the other boy shivered out a little feeling the touch. 

Hyunjin’s own curious hands reached out to hold both sides of your face gingerly with pink fingertips. 

“I know that I’d like to kiss you...if you’ll let me?” 

Both of your friends waited for you as you took turns checking with both of them. The whole prospect was unimaginable, but now...with both of them in front of you, both more real than anything you could have ever thought up, it started to make all the sense in the world. 

“What do you say?” Hyunjin asked with a dreamy air. It was chilly on that early fall evening, so he tucked up the blankets even higher. It was a simple gesture, but still held multitudes of his care. 

“It doesn’t hurt to try...” 

You felt your face pulled closer to his, and all at once his warmth flooded your lips. It was a strange feeling your friend’s lips on yours like this, but while it was new, it was comfortable. Your friend relaxed himself over you, smiling with the corners of his mouth, and slowly sucking at your lower lip like he didn’t want to startle you with anything too fast. His glossy lips stuck with his favored strawberry flavored Chapstick, and you only wanted to taste more. He hummed with a little happy sound, and his larger hands nearly covered your whole face where he helped tilt your head a little so that he could gift deeper kisses to it. 

Beside him, Changbin shook with a sigh watching the two of you, a different kind of passion growing within him seeing the two of the people that he loved most do something like this. He was a bit unsure at first, but he tucked back his friend’s blonde edges to free the skin of his neck, then sucked little kisses there too. He to was careful, and didn’t want to leave marks, but rather feel the way that Hyunjin’s skin dotted with goosebumps from the feeling and then let kitten-sounding whimpers go from the pressure on his neck. 

While the night itself was nearly too cold to bear, the three of your bodies heated instantly, and you nearly felt as if the sweater that kept you warm was even too much. Hyunjin parted his lips slightly to enter your mouth with his tongue, and it was a feeling so indulgent that you tried to hide from your friend how good he could make you feel out of your own embarrassment. 

Your name slithered from his lips to yours, and you tucked your hands under his sweater, finding Changbin’s hands there too on the other boy’s bare skin. Hyunjin flinched from feeling both sets of hands on his muscles. His abs flared from the attention, and he accidentally bit into your lip feeling the cold pads of fingers on him. 

Now that you had one taste of him your body could only crave more. 

Changbin tilted Hyunjin’s gasping and swollen lips to his own where he took his own turn gifting the other boy his affection. Hyunjin pressed his whole chest into the other man in an attempt to get closer and Changbin’s hands splayed across his back to hold him tightly. The two of them giggled a bit as they roughly worked their way around each other’s mouths. Changbin, a little smaller in the other man’s wide and long arms appeared to swim in him, and the two of them melted between the thick fabric of their clothes. 

Once more your hands went journeying up Hyunjin’s shirt, and you ran your fingers over every curve and twist of his back: from the little dimples above his hips, his ribs, his sweeping shoulder blades and each swelling bit of fleshy dorsal muscle you could get your hands on. You had never realized how curious you had been for him in this way, but it delighted you to feel him this close. 

Legs became anxious under the wool blankets, and tangled up with little regard for personal space, and hips writhed asking for attention that had been kept for them for far too long. 

Changbin moved down Hyunjin’s jaw to give him more kisses to his tender neck, sucking harder this time to imprint little purple marks. You had never taken Changbin to be one to do so, but something told you that he was one to take pride in those that he loved, and wanted them to be his only. 

“B-Bin...” Hyunjin’s voice wavered, no longer loud enough to bounce off the rocks surrounding you. 

From the way that Changbin kissed the other boy, you instantly craved for him to do the same for you. Across the width of your gorgeous blond friend, you tossed around Changbin’s dark and curly strands, and soaked up his warmth to your hand cracking from the cold. 

You called out for him too, and found your hips grinding into Hyunjin’s back, becoming more impatient by the moment. The way that both of them touched you, and each other was...different. There was no fear, no heartbreak, no uncertainty or loneliness. When you thought of it later, it was if the three of you could actually heal from it all for the first time. 

Changbin’s eyes softened hearing you beg for him, and he helped you slide closer to him. 

“Hm. You’re so cute.” He muttered before filling your mouth with his own kisses. Changbin appeared to channel everything that he had in him to give to you--it was no surprise considering the romantic that he was. He was attentive and slow; rough at first, but then melting into something much more infatuating. Hyunjin took his turn swiping his hands up and down your thighs, kneading into the skin, and then tucking up your sweater. He shimmied down your body, pressing soft lips into your belly to make you tremble from the pleasant gesture. He made his way up higher, up to your chest where he exposed even more skin to the cold, but was sure to make up for it by keeping the blankets close. 

Changbin swiped his thumb over both of your lips, smiling as he did so. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re really breathtaking?” He said with a tone so sultry it was a bit laughable. 

“I don’t think so?” 

He too took a greedy hand down your chest where Hyunjin nipped lightly, admiring the way that you had looked under the moonlight. He brought his fingers back to your lips, giving you a tiny and accidental taste of his fingertips, then promptly resumed the kisses that you had asked for. 

Hyunjin worked his way back up your body, stopping at last to lap lightly into your neck with tiny fleeting love bites and delighted in the way that he could see them fade onto your skin--almost like you and him were a matching set now.

Changbin broke his lips from yours, creating a tiny wet sound with a thin string of his saliva on your your bottom lip.

Hyunjin played with the elastic of your sweatpants, gasping out a bit once he saw your legs rub together in the absence of friction. His eyes wandered slowly to his other friend who had grinded his hips down into the cargo bed with a quivering length.

“Are we about to do what I think we are?” He asked, both thrilled and shocked.  

“Seems like it.” Changbin said simply after going to caress the other man’s cheek.

“Damn. I was not expecting this night to go like this.” Your voice shook, either from anticipation, or from the cold--you couldn’t quite tell.

“Me neither...but I’m not mad about it.”

“Friendship offically ruined?” Hyunjin said with a mischievous little smile.

The breeze blew through, wrapped up in the smell of the crisp mountain air. Hyunjin’s little speaker played on with his songs that you still knew the names of. There wasn’t too much light, just the glow from the inside of Changbin’s car and his lanterns, but it was just enough to take in your friends fully--the ones that you had cared for so much, you didn’t even known how much you had. While you would’ve been worried about getting caught on that Wednesday night, this mattered little.

“I’d say so.” You answered, and it was exactly what they had wanted to hear.

The three of you opted to keep your tops on to fight off the elements, but under the covers, you each jiggled off pairs of joggers, jeans and sweatpants. The car bounced once more as the three of you readjusted. As soon as bare legs intertwined and the thin fabric of undergarments got thrown into the mix, you each got louder and more desperate for wandering touches that could quell your desires.

With twisted and oversized socks, Hyunjin straddled both sides of Changbin’s head, letting the other man palm the outline of his dick and squeeze at it harshly until he shivered over the smaller man’s frame.

“Damn Jin...” Changbin groaned seeing the other’s length. “You’ve been packing and didn’t feel like sharing?”

“S-shut up.” Hyunjin whined as the other teased him.

You worked bite after bite down Changbin’s torso, sucking lightly, then harder. After long, you found that it tickled him a little--this knowledge you would save for another time.

He wore baggy boxers which hid the full girth of his dick that swelled with his erection that bopped and only appeared to grow larger once you and released him. Thick veins wrapped around his length, and his tip flared where you grabbed him into your palm.

“I could say the same to you, Bin.” You teased your friend.

Hyunjin turned to see for himself, laughing out, seeing the way that it looked in your smaller hand.

“Bin, what the fuck?”

“...Intimidated are you?”

The other boy tossed his head back, hair getting caught in his hoodie. “No...”

Changbin snapped the elastic to Hyunjin’s briefs just because he liked the sound, then pulled the other’s member out to pump at the considerable length with his fist. The blonde boy choked out a gasp at the strong grip, and Changbin dug his fingers around the other’s waist to bring in him closer.

“What me to suck this pretty dick of yours?”

“Do I even need to answer that question?” Hyunjin snarked.

Further down, you worked your own hand around Changbin’s cock which you had lathered at first with your spit. Obscene sounds of the liquid cupped in your hand, then you worked your mouth down to his gloriously thick thighs. Something overtook you then, and all you wanted to to was ravage them, make them all yours, mark them as yours, and make the quiver all because of you.

Your fingernails dug into the fleshy and squishy skin, and Changbin moaned out forcefully feeling the sting.

“Feels good?” You asked with a wicked grin, then returned to sucking bruises into the inner parts of his thighs.

“You’re gonna...gonna distract me.” He sighed out, still jerking the other boy away.

Hyunjin swiped away the other man’s curly bangs so he could see him fully. He guided his length over Changbin’s mouth, teeth clenched with a tight exhale once he felt the warmth of the other’s tongue lapping up the sides of his shaft.

Your teasing was enough, and you finally granted your friend what he wanted. With a girth as wide as he had, it was somewhat of a challenge, but a challenge that you gleefully expected. He had puffed up your cheeks fully, and you could barely take in half is length without it testing the back of your throat. Still, you focused your breath coming out of your nose, and swallowed him down deeper. Your eyes wetted from the simulation to your gag reflex, but you held on for as long as you could. At last, your wish was granted, and his marked up thighs shook just for you.

“Bin...fuck.” The blond shuddered upon coaxing himself fully into his friend’s mouth. He moaned out sinfully feeling the twist of the other man’s tongue.

To give yourself a moment’s pause, you stopped, gasping over your friend’s slit, teasing your tongue around his head, dipping down to the place where he dripped with beads of precum.

Changbin laughed out breathily, swearing easily and calling out your name too with a rasp to his tone. “S-shit...”

“Getting too distracted?” Hyunjin purred, seeing the other man made a wreck by you. “What about me?”

“S-sorry.” Changbin admitted, wetting his lips and taking back Hyunjin’s cock into his hollowed cheeks.

As you swallowed around him, your friend rutted his hips just slightly, his lust overtaking him.

“Oh fuck, just like that, mm--” Hyunjin cooed, getting lost in his own ecstasy with head thrown back, and his sweater paws melting down to Changbin’s quaking chest where he supported himself.

You worked your hand and mouth up and down around the pulsating vein’s of your best friend’s length, lazily letting him feel your flattened tongue, then switching to let him feel the tightness of your throat.

Hyunjin sighed out heavily as looked down at his friend who had taken him so well. It was almost as if he felt cheated from the crappy head that he had been getting in dirty bathrooms and semi-public dressing rooms. It was dangerous in the way that Changbin would stroke him languidly, then let his drool wet his tip.

Further down your hips, the pent up heat from your own sex ached on the cool plastic of the cargo bed, and you grinded your hips down for any simulation you could get. 

The blonde man whimpered out after long, feeling even hazier the longer that Changbin continued on. “Binnie...you’re...feels really--fuck--so, good...”

It was as if the words hand been a trigger for him, but your friend pulled his length for your mouth, panting out like a dog, while also robbing Hyunjin of all feeling.

“Don’t-don’t wanna cum yet...” He laughed out, “I was really fucking close.”

Hyunjin pouted, then turning back and look at you with a bit of your own saliva running down your neck.

“Your turn now.” He nearly whispered, then crawled down the other man’s body to jerk at him lightly.

“Jin! I-I--” He clenched his teeth.

“Lay down, y/n. Is there any way that you want it?”

“A-anything. Anything that you want to do. I-I don’t care.” You begged, falling under his spell.

“Aw. Cute.” He added once he had seen the purple marks on Changbin’s thighs.

You fell back under the two of them, opening yourself up for them to do as they wished. First, Hyunjin crept down your body with as much care as he could--beautiful in the way the he looked close to you like this. 

Hyunjin’s hand cascaded down your chest, then belly, all the way down to your own twitching and wetted sex, and you keened directly into his touch. 

“Wouldn’t you like my fingers? Filling you up...” He asked softly, finally sinking down far enough so that you could feel his words swirl over your exposed arousal, then pressing light kisses into you. “...as deep as you can take it?” 

“Mm-yes.” You squeaked, opening your legs further for him. 

Your other friend settled beside you, tilting your chin nearer to him. Just barely, his lips grazed over you, breathing in your air with his hooded eyes glued to your weakened form under the hands of the other boy. 

“You’re that excited?” Hyunjin mocked, “We’ve barely touched you.” 

“Quit talking and just get to fucking me, got it?” You demanded, mustering all of your strength. 

“Oh-ho! I didn’t take you for one to bite back.”

Changbin bit a proud little smile into your lip, wrapping his arms around you. The blond man then toyed with your entrance, licking his fingers, wetting them, then pushed them slowly into your needy hole. 

“Ahhh, look at that, so fucking tight around my fingers, You want it that bad?” 

His long and lithe digits filled you up where he started to thrust them in and out, using his free hand to push your jolting thighs back. Your right hand traversed it’s way under the blankets which you had readjusted, all the way down to Changbin’s leaking length which still blushed red. You wrapped around him carefully, promising his to lips that you would go easy on him. 

As Hyunjin curled his fingers, the other man then reached down to rub at you fervently, matching the pace at which Hyunjin flicked his wrist. Your hips lurched feeling the combination of each sensation, and you cried out loudly for the two of them--the sound itself bounced off that empty space where the three of you existed, almost as if you were calling out for the whole starry sky to hear you. 

“I-I think that we were really missing out on something...” You joked with an airy breath and both of your friends joined you. 

Changbin’s teeth caught his lip as your hand squeezed and twisted, and you could see with every ounce of restraint that he had, he was holding back. 

“Way to make me want to fuck you sideways, huh?” He said with a little grin, observing the size difference between your hand and his member. 

Your back arched when Hyunjin reached in even deeper, and you dissolved into the pleasure that he brought you--an amazing kind of all-consuming feeling that shattered your will, and sent you mewling out into your other friends mouth. 

“I-I can’t wait anymore,” You begged, clawing right into Hyunjin’s golden trellises. 

Changbin scooched up quickly, taking half of the blankets with him, thankfully giving the other boy a nod when he let him be the one to use your entrance. With his brutish hands, he flipped you to your stomach, and hiked up your hips too, cold fingers holding them in place. Hyunjin kneeled permitting you access to his cock which as softened slightly, so he pumped himself back into place with his eyes holding yours. 

At first, Changbin teased you with his tip, adding pressure to your twitching hole, then guided himself in bit...by bit. 

The blonde tapped his dick to your lips, holding firmly the back of your neck as you took him in and choked out at the way that the other stretched your walls. Changbin grabbed at your ass in handfuls starting slowly, grinding his hips in little circles to simulate you deeper. 

“Hm. Who would have known that your pretty little hole would be so perfect for me? Guess we really were missing out on something.” 

Hyunjin growled lowly feeling his cock slide down to the back of your throat, brows crossed, and the bottom of his hoodie resting just above his hips. 

“Squeeze my leg if it becomes too much, okay? ...I’m gonna fuck your mouth, okay?” 

You nodded best you could, and he started to thrust carefully, every few seconds you would hold his member to drag it against the sides of your cheeks, causing him to huff out loudly at the fleshy bits of your mouth. 

Changbin quickened his pace, doubling over your back as he lost himself in you, grunting out in his rhythm. From both sides, your best friends used you, resorting to something much more feral as they edged themselves closer. From the motions, the car rocked back and fourth like a bed and it’s headboard. 

You too felt the tension build deeply in your core, and it begged with reckless abandon at your dizzy mind that drew itself closer and closer into the feeling of being utterly all theirs. 

In many ways, you guessed that you always had been--while it had been unspoken at the time. Now, having the two of them wholly like this under the silver sheen of the moon, the cold biting at your skin, then furiously met with your heat, you could no longer see them as the two broken souls whom you had bonded with at first. They were now everything, everything that you had wished and hoped for.

Even now that you had become much more to each other, there was nothing that could take away the closeness that you had shared with them. 

“F-fuck--gonna cum--” Changbin announced while he pounded frantically. The other man rolled his hips into your mouth quicker too, seeking the same kind of release. 

“Y/n?” He said with a broken breath, and you muffled out a moan to let him know that you were nearly there too. 

“Oh shit, oh shit--” 

Changbin grunted out, with a bit of panic to his voice, forcefully removed himself from you seconds before he spilled his white seed onto your hole, then sending it dripping down your leg. 

“Oh fuck--s-sorry--” He gasped out, still jerking his cock while he pulsed. 

“Bin!! What the fuck??” Hyunjin yelled out, his words quickly turned into mumbles of nonsense when you took him down as deeply as you could manage without gagging, focusing only on him even though your sex ached feeling so empty.  

When he had come down after a few moments, Changbin took to fucking your walls once more with his thick fingers, not even caring that he had fucked his white warmth back into you at the same time. Meanwhile, he returned to rubbing of your sensitive flesh, trying to replace the feeling he had robbed you of. 

“Cum for me baby, cum for me.” 

On cue, you came in waves, shuddering over Changbin’s fingers slicked with his cum, just as your other friend released down your throat and the warm liquid painted your tongue. 

His blissful moans turned into light chuckles as he milked himself into your mouth, giving you every last drop. Changbin drove you further, overstimulating you to the point where your knees nearly gave out, and you had to beg him to slow. 

After each of your bodies collapsed weakly to the bed of blankets and rejected clothing, you drew the covers back up over yourselves, feeling the cold seep in once more. Both of your friends kissed perfect adoring kisses into your raw lips, tasting the both of themselves on your skin. While your thighs still stuck with your friend’s cum, it didn’t matter as much now that you had huddled up cozily into their arms. 

“Bin, you asshole!!” Hyunjin jested, and flicked the other boy’s forehead. “You fucking finished before you were supposed to!!” 

“What the hell was I supposed to do?? I’d already edged myself enough!!” 

“You could’ve tried!!” 

“Whatever, it felt fucking amazing, don’t blame me.” He added with a smug smirk, “You felt fucking amazing, y/n.” 

“Did it feel good for you too, y/n?” Hyunjin gingerly asked, falling right back to his soft and adorable composure that you knew well. 

“Like Bin said, it was fucking amazing.” 

“So we all agree then? We won’t forget that this happened?”

You gave Hyunjin a little nod to say yes, and your group of three hugged eachother even closer. You hadn’t noticed it, but at some point, Hyunjin’s music had turned off. 

“So, this means that we’re like, a thing now?” Changbin asked, playing with the drawstring to your hoodie. 

You peppered Hyunjin’s forehead with a tiny kiss. “I’d like to be.” 

He nuzzled into the crook of your neck and reached out for Changbin across the expanse. “Me too.” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

[mypoisonedvine]

okay but imagine Steve is actually a super tender lover until you guys get into a HUGE fight and he calls you every fucking nasty name and gets real mean

GIRL what are you doing to me 😭😭😭😭 a lil dub con below and lots of degradation, watch out.  i swear i didnt even mean to make it dark ooops

dating steve meant that you waited quite a while before doing anything sexual

you had worried at first that he was insecure about it or something, but then it finally happened and that was not at all an issue lmao

he was fucking amazing, so sensual and slow that it felt like hours of making love (honestly you had no idea how long it was, you were that out of it)

you came with his head between your thighs, and his fingers inside you, and by the time he was actually fucking you, you couldn’t even tell the difference anymore... it was just like one long orgasm that wouldn’t end as long as he kept touching you

who could blame you for getting addicted to that?!

you were nearly insatiable after that, trying to get him to fuck you every night but he was busy, and tired, and frankly getting sick of your begging

he would get irritated and you’d leave him alone because you certainly weren’t trying to pressure him or anything, but it kind of reached a breaking point when you’d both been super busy with work and hadn’t been able to do anything together for weeks

you had been drinking (always a bad start) to try to distract yourself but it just made it worse

so now you’re horny and drunk and ooooops you’re flirting with bucky

it’s not entirely your fault, he’s flirting back, and what are you supposed to do?? just.. NOT flirt???  impossible.  it’s red wine.  it’s a part of the deal.

steve basically has to drag you out of the party and into his room, practically tossing you onto the couch.

are you serious?

you just shrug cause you’re not sure why he’s so mad.  he’s the one who ignored you.

he doesn’t care for that.  he gets right up in your face and he is seething.

are you trying to make me angry?  or is it just a natural talent of yours?

you start to deny it but he suddenly grabs and kisses you and you really did not see it coming but you’re not gonna stop him cause damn

this is what you wanted, right?  my attention?  you have it.  tell me what you want.

‘i want you to make love to me,’ you say but he scoffs.

yeah, right.  i know what you want.  you want to get fucked.

he doesn’t talk like that often and it makes you shiver.  

you want to get fucked like a whore.  why else would you be acting like a whore when you know i can see you?  when everyone can see you?  fuck, you are so unashamed.  go ahead, bend over for me.  pull that skirt up.

he slaps your ass quickly and you squeal, loving it and unable to hide it.

he gets his cock out as he kneels behind you and you’re just wondering at what point in the night he got hard.  was it when he watched you flirt with his friend?  when he had gotten rough with you as he pulled you back here?  or when you were arguing?  a mystery to be solved another day.

he laughs when he pulls your panties aside.  oh, baby, you’re soaked.  you want me so bad.  

it’s not that you want to be a brat, honestly.  it’s just that he walked right into it with this whole jealous moment.

‘who said i was wet for you?’ you asked with a grin.

there was a very tense silence before he responded.

you fucking slut.

you’re about to laugh and say you were just kidding, that you’d just been extra sensitive because of him ignoring you, but you’re cut off by him pushing into you in one thrust.

normally he warmed you up with his fingers, or at least took it slow so you could adjust to his size, but not today.  

you were drenched and that helped a lot, but it still stung and your toes curled as you gasped.

isn’t this what you wanted? he mocked.  i thought you wanted my cock, sweetheart.  you’ve been pestering me about it constantly.  now you’re gonna act like you can’t handle it?  

he pulls back and slams into you again, even deeper, even harder.  you bite down on the couch cushion beneath your face.

none of that, baby.  i wanna hear you scream for it.

you do, especially when he slips a hand under you to roughly rub at your clit.

‘slow down,’ you groan, but he just laughs

you couldn’t stop begging before, now it’s too much for you?  dumb fucking slut.

you whine at the cruel name but you know he can tell that it turns you on.  he smacks your ass again, and when he stops thrusting suddenly, you find yourself rocking back onto him.

oh fuck, you’re so desperate.  kinda pathetic, actually.

you moan but you can’t stop.  you really do need it.

go on, fuck yourself on my cock.  you gonna come baby?  you gonna make yourself come like this?  little whore you are, fuck.

you’re so close already, and you decide to blame it on the wine and not the filthy things he’s calling you.  you come with a gasp and start to slow your movements down but he slaps you again.

don’t you dare fucking stop.  greedy bitch.  think cause you’ve come that it’s over?  what about me, huh?  you don’t stop until i say you stop, slut.

you nod and keep going but it’s so much sensation as his cock stretches you and keeps rubbing all those sensitive places which are even more delicate now after your orgasm.

you’re gonna have to do better than that.  i’m not even close yet.  you know i can go all night.

you bounce harder against him, arching your back, and he groans.  you smile a little knowing you’re finally getting to him, but you don’t know if you can keep this up long enough to get him to come-- your thighs are already pretty sore.

that’s it, fucking work for it.  you want my come don’t you?  you’re gonna have to earn it.

you start babbling about how you want his come so bad because it couldn’t hurt, right?

you’re my little cumslut right?  my fucking cum dumpster?

your face gets so hot when you hear him say that.  you’d been with him long enough that he was just your boyfriend steve and not captain america in your mind, but at that moment you felt very aware that both your boyfriend steve and captain america had just called you a ‘fucking cum dumpster.’  life is crazy sometimes.

answer me, he growls.

‘i’m your cumslut!’ you yelp.  ‘oh my god, i’m your cum dumpster, please come inside me oh my god fuck yes please.’

inside you?  no, im gonna come on that pretty little face.

you groan, way too excited about that idea.

fuck, the way you were meant to be, babe: covered in my cum.  i think i’ll take a picture of you like that, so we both remember where you belong.

you bite your lip.  it makes you nervous but it turns you on, too.

and if you act like a whore and flirt with bucky again, maybe i’ll have to remind him too.

[insomniamamma]

Prickle: Ezra x F! Reader

A/n: Okay, so don’t know what the hell this is. I was trying to go to sleep a few days ago and this just kind of popped in there, the idea of Ez giving the reader a weird nickname. I swear I have a more serious, put together fic in the works, but this demanded my attention first. I meant this to be short, but I suck at keeping things short.

warnings: language, angst, mild violence, lil bit of fluff, no beta

______________________________________________________________________

He calls you Artichoke. Since hiring you on, Ezra has thrown a string of nicknames at you, mostly botanical or avian, some referencing things you have never heard of, and this is the one that stuck. Cee is Little Bird most of the time, until she indulges in teen-age surliness and then she's Channel Rat. You are Artichoke. Which would be fine, except you don't have the foggiest idea of what an artichoke is. Nothing about the word triggers anything in your brain.

You are not so well-travelled as Ezra and Cee. You grew up on Falnost, a dusty little fly speck of a moon, only colonized because it orbits a gas giant with lush rings, perfect for ice-mining operations. Falnost has one port city that caters to people who come downworld on leave. The rest is cattle and corn. Nothing to do but pull rocks out of the ground, dig irrigation ditches and spread the sandy dirt with live bacteria concentrates in hopes of convincing the ground to grow something. Not a place for fancy words or much beyond a standard technical education. You scrimped and saved and bought your passage off-world as soon as you could, and you've been drifting ever since. Puggart Bench was the closest you've been to civilization, and even that seemed overwhelming and a bit weird. You suspect artichoke is something from the inner worlds, but you have no idea what it could be. What if it's something bad, or nasty like a channel rat? What if Ezra's been making fun of you, calling you this name?           It started two drops ago on Sammana. You were there to harvest lattice corals. Sammana once had a deep liquid ocean, but now all that was left were vast, glittering salt-flats. It was hot on Sammana. The air, while not toxic, stank like sun-dried shit. The corals themselves were fragile and you had to dig through the salt-pan with hand tools to get to them. By the end of the first day, your hands were raw and sobbing from a hundred salt-burnt cuts. You were hired on as muscle, but Ezra's been teaching you the trade as well. Many hands make light work, he said, and dimpled at his own joke, being down one hand himself.           The dig did not go well. The corals you were finding were few and of mediocre quality at best. Enough to keep you fueled and flying, but little else. There was less than a cycle before you had to catch the slingback and even Ezra's mood was dark.             "I'm callin it," he said, after a small and brittle coral crumbled in his hand. "We got enough to get us onto the next job. Fueled and flying, right?"             "Fueled and flying," you echoed back, grabbing the railgun and taking point. Camp was some ways and the sun overhead felt like a physical weight grinding down on you. The railgun was heavy, sweat ran into your eyes and pooled under your body armor. So much miserable effort for so little reward. Today's pull was a pittance, a little extra fuel, a little extra data bandwidth and that's all. You swiped the sweat from your eyes for the hundredth time today. You were over it. Camp resolved itself out of the heat-glitter rising up from the salt crusted ground, the drop pod sitting in a crater of shattered salt, the tent next to it, hooked up to the pod's RTG by a thick braided cable. The tent's flaps were open. Someone was moving inside.             "Oh, hell no!" You pelted towards camp, railgun raised, the figure paused, and then continued rifling through the tent. He had your trophy case at his feet, what little you've been able to collect over the last cycles and this bastard meant to take all of it.            "Hands in the air motherfucker!" The thief dropped his haul and raised his hands. "The fuck out of the tent, right fucking now!" You felt Ezra and Cee behind you, heard their hard breaths.            "I didn't mean nothin," he says, "I thought this camp was abandoned--" And something snapped in you. Never in your life had you been this angry.            "Bullshit you did! Abandoned with the pod still hot?" You primed the railgun, and aimed through the scope right between this dumbass's eyes, and then you felt Ezra's hand on your arm. He spoke low and close to your ear.            "Ease up on the rails, there, Artichoke, ain't no need for bloodshed yet." And for as angry as you were, you did as he asked, relaxed your stance some. Ezra walked toward the kid, no mercenary, this, just some dumb local.            "My friend here wants to shoot you," Ezra said, "And she is well within her rights to do so. We have toiled long to get what little we could out of this bitter ground."            "I'm sorry!" said the would-be thief, "I didn't mean nothin--"            "What you meant or didn't mean is not the issue here," said Ezra, "What you do next is going to determine whether you walk away or I tell my over-eager associate here to indulge her violent nature. Here's what is going to happen. My partner, Cee, knows every stitch of equipment we own. You  will dump your pack for her, turn out your pockets and give back everything that's ours. One aggressive move and Artichoke here will kill you. Rely on it. You do what I say and you get to walk away with your life. Clear?"           "Clear," he said. He dumped his pack as instructed and Cee picked through the contents, reclaiming several items.           "We're good,"said Cee, and gave the thief a shove, "Get out of here." He turned and started running, you fired a few shots that crackled into the salt-pan at his heels.           Later, as you broke camp, you and Ezra got into the first real argument you'd had. So far you've managed to keep things professional, but the anger was still there, hot and pulsing behind your eyes.           "You should have let me shoot him,"           "It doesn't always have to come down to shooting," said Ezra, "Things turned out right in the end. We kept our harvest and that foolish boy gets to keep on breathing."            "He was trying to steal our whole harvest," your voice rose, "Gods be damned, Ezra, you know what that means. You of all people--"            "He was a kid," Ezra's eyes were wide and dark, "Not much older than our Cee. Would you have that kind of blood on your hands?" There was no good answer. Ezra had all the words, you struggled with them. There was no way to speak back. Ezra sensed something shift in you, something in the slump of your shoulders. He laid his hand on your upper arm, gave a brief squeeze.           "It's alright, Artichoke, We're all safe. It's alright."

          Since that crazy day on Sammana, you've been Artichoke, and you don't know what to make of it. You can't ask Ezra directly. Ezra has ten different words for everything. You don't always understand him. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, but sometimes he makes you feel stupid. You can imagine his self-satisfied smile as he explains the why of your nickname. You're not about to ask him. So you decide to ask Cee.           It's morning and you hand Cee a dented metal cup with fake coffee in it. Ezra shoots you a look and you shoot him one right back. You shouldn't give her coffee, he'd said, it'll stunt her growth, to which you'd said, Kevva's sakes, she was processing Jhata Balu at twelve. I think she can handle a cup of coffee. Ezra is a morning person, one of the things about him that infuriates you. You and Cee have barely joined the land of the living and he's up and about and doing maintenance on his suit. One handed, he struggles, but you've learned not to offer help. You did once and the look he gave you made you want to strap your body armor a little tighter. So you just tune out the string of muttered curses coming from the other end of the tent. You've learned to tell when Ezra is talking to himself.           "Hey, Cee?"           "Mmmh?"           "What's an artichoke?" You pitch your voice low, but there's heat prickling in your neck. Cee sips her coffee and smiles, a slow, one sided grin, like she's been expecting the question.            "It's a Terran plant," she says, and pulls her battered notebook and pen from under her pillow, furrows her brow as she sketches. She turns the notebook so you can see. "It looks kind of like this." And now you are even more confused, presenting with what looks like a scaly ball on a thick stem. What this has to do with you, you can't even guess.

          "Why does he call me that?" You ask, and Cee just stares over her coffee cup like she's staring into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, "Cee! Why does he call me that?" Cee smirks and jerks her head up. And the fact of the relative silence hits you, Ezra's muttered string of curses is done and you hear him chuckle close and behind. You bow your head, heat rushing to your face. 

          "If you wanted to know the reason for your moniker you could have just asked," says Ezra, you're not looking at him, but you can practically hear him smirk. He's gone and done it again, set a snare of words, and you've bumbled into it. You clench your hands and jaw and turn to face him, best to absorb whatever little humiliation he has planned for you so you can get back to your coffee.           "Fine," you say, and it comes out angrier than intended. It is too early in the morning for this. "Why do you call me Artichoke?" His brows furrow briefly and his smirk softens into a warmer smile, the kind that crinkles his eyes at the corners. He squeezes your upper arm, like on Sammana, but there's no body armor between you.           "I call you Artichoke because I believe that, like an artichoke, you conceal beneath your prickly exterior a tender, delectable heart." He drops you a wink and then jams his helmet on and out the tent flaps into the sticky heat of day.          "Good one, Ez," Cee calls to his retreating back and the purr of the zippers pulled back up, "Real subtle."           "What. The. Utter fuck?" You mutter into your cup of shit fake coffee. You shake your head. You and Cee suck down your coffee in silence for a beat.           "You know he likes you, right?" Says Cee.           "Well, I should hope so," you say, "We're crew." Cee is giving you a look of pity and condescention that somehow only teenagers can manage. Oh.           "Oh. Oh no! No no no no no!" The realization comes pouring out of you and Cee giggles. "Nope! Not in a million years! Hard no!" But part of you thinks this is wrong even as you say it. Part of you likes the idea of being Ezra's artichoke, his tough and prickly thing with soft insides. Part of you wonders what would happen if you let him in beneath your spiky outer layers, just a little.

[thelastspeecher]

Trouble in Paradise

Yes, even more Marriage of Convenience AU content!  This time, Ford’s lovely wife finally makes an appearance!

Once again, thank you to the folks on the Discord who have been helping me with the development of this AU, y’all rock something fierce.  c:

——————————————————————————————

              The front door opened.

              “What are we doin’ fer dinner?” a woman asked as she stepped inside.  She looked over.  Her mouth fell open in a small “o”.  “I get the feelin’ that ain’t the question I should be askin’,” she said slowly.  Stan raised an eyebrow at her thick southern accent. Orion and Iris, who had been playing with Stan and Ford on the floor, both got to their feet and toddled to the woman.

              “Mama!” Iris squealed happily.  The woman crouched down to embrace Orion and Iris.

              “Hello, my babies,” she cooed, stroking their hair. “Did yer Daddy take good care of you today?”

              “No, their Uncle Stan did,” Ford corrected tartly. The woman looked up, confused. “You mistook my twin for me and sent him to our home.”

              “I…”

              “Angie, do you have any clue how dangerous that is?” Ford demanded, getting up and stomping over to his wife.  Orion and Iris scampered to Stan as Angie straightened. “You sent a stranger here. Where our children were.”

              “Clearly, he’s not a stranger, if he’s yer twin,” Angie snapped.

              “He’s a stranger to you!”

              “It worked out, didn’t it?”

              “I know you’re smarter than this!  You have to understand why your actions were foolish!”

              “You were home, right?  It was fine!”

              “No, I wasn’t home!”

              “You-”

              “I had to work today.”

              “You were still sleeping when I left.  I thought that meant-”

              “Oh, god forbid I sleep in on the one day I don’t teach until the afternoon!” Ford shouted, throwing his arms up in the air. “It’s not like I stayed up late grading papers or anything!”

              “Forgive me fer assumin’ that ya wouldn’t leave our children home alone!” Angie screamed.  Stan grimaced, growing increasingly uncomfortable.

              “You didn’t check with me before you left to make sure I was watching the kids!”

              “I thought you wanted yer sleep!” Angie shouted. Orion and Iris buried their faces in Stan’s shirt, whimpering.

              Okay, that’s enough.

              “Both of you, shut the hell up,” Stan hissed fiercely.  Ford and Angie glared at him.  “Unless you wanna keep fighting in front of your kids.”  Ford’s face went slack.  Angie covered her mouth in horror.

              “Oh, no,” she whispered.  “I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.”  She walked over to Stan and knelt next to him.  “Sweeties, it’s okay.”  Iris let go of Stan to latch onto her mother.  “I’m sorry Mama and Daddy were loud ‘n angry.  It’s okay, it’s okay.”  Ford crouched next to Stan as well and held out his arms.  Orion toddled over to him.  Ford embraced his son tightly.

              “It’s okay, Orion.  Everything’s fine,” Ford whispered.  He kissed the top of Orion’s head.

              “I can’t believe we fought in front of the kids,” Angie said in a quavering voice.

              “They’ll be fine.  Kids are pretty tough,” Stan said with a shrug.  Angie sat down and looked at him.  Her eyes were a bright blue, just like Orion’s.

              “I take it yer my brother-in-law.”

              “Yep.  Name’s Stan.”

              “I’m aware.”  Angie looked at Ford.  “Stanford told me ‘bout ya a few times ‘fore ya ran away.”

              “And your name’s Angie, right?”

              “Correct,” Angie said with a nod.  Her caramel-colored hair, cut into a short bob, danced from the movement.  Like Ford, she was dressed professionally, wearing slacks, a blouse, and a cardigan. “Thank you fer watchin’ our children today.”

              “Not a problem.  I like kids.  Always have.” Stan grinned at Angie.  “By the way, no offense to Ford, but you’re way outta his league.”  Ford sighed. Angie blinked in surprise.  A faint flush spread across her cheeks.

              “Ah, uh, thank you?” she stammered.

              “Stanley, please don’t hit on my wife,” Ford said wearily.

              “Fine.”  Stan looked at Orion and Iris, then at Angie.  Both the children had inherited Ford’s thick, ruddy nose, rather than Angie’s long, thin one.  “Maybe your third kid will have your nose, Angie.”  Angie’s eyes widened.  She glared at Ford, who held his hands up defensively.

              “I didn’t say anything, Angie, Stanley just likes to tease me.”

              “Hmph.”  Angie carefully deposited Iris in Stan’s lap and stood.  She brushed off her slacks.  “I reckon Stanford didn’t make dinner.”

              “I was busy catching up with my long-lost twin.”

              “I see.”  Angie sighed.  “I’ll try to whip somethin’ up.  In the meantime, Stanley, I’d like to repay ya fer watchin’ the kids today.”

              “When I was checking out the place, I saw a guest room,” Stan said idly.  “It’s got a nice, big bed.”  Angie managed a small smile.

              “Would ya care to stay the night?” she asked.

              “Well, since you offered, I can’t exactly turn it down,” Stan replied.  Angie laughed, a sound that made Stan’s stomach somersault.

              “I like yer sense of humor.”  She walked away.  In a few moments, the clattering of pots and pans sounded.

              “Yeah,” Stan said.  He looked at Ford.  “You really married up, Sixer.  She’s too good for you.”  He expected Ford to respond with bluster and frustration, but to his surprise, Ford merely sighed.

              “Yes,” he said softly.  “She is.”

-----

              “Yeesh.”  Stan grimaced at the apple juice that had spilled all over Orion.  “Guess the lid wasn’t on tight enough, huh?”  Orion giggled.  “Hey, Ford?”

              “Yes?” Ford called from the kitchen where he was making dinner.

              “Orion spilled his juice on him, so I’m gonna change his clothes.”

              “Okay, but be sure to use clothes from the dresser by his crib, not the one by Iris’s.”

              “You got it.”  Stan picked his nephew up and brought him down the hall.  It was his fourth day at Ford and Angie’s, and he was already considering just moving in.  He liked the consistency of things.  Ford and Angie woke up, took care of the kids, then went to work, leaving Stan to watch the kids.  In the evening, they had dinner, put the kids in bed, and then went to bed themselves.

              Having a proper roof over my head is pretty nice, too. I’ve been living in the Stanleymobile for way too long.  Stan pushed open the door to the nursery.  He set Orion on the floor and went to the dresser Ford had told him to use.

              “And…nothing,” Stan muttered after he had pulled open every drawer, only to find it completely empty.  “Hmm.”  Stan looked at Orion.  “It’s too cold to let you walk around in your diaper.”  He crouched down and winked at his nephew.  “I’ll get you one of your sister’s things, okay?  Don’t tell your Dada.”  Orion giggled and stuck his fist into his mouth.

              Stan grabbed a soft onesie from Iris’s dresser and brought it over to Orion.

              “Don’t fight me on this,” he instructed his nephew. He removed Orion’s onesie and carefully zipped on the fresh one.  “There! All done!”  Orion fussed loudly.  “What’s wrong?”  Orion began to wail at the top of his lungs.

              Shit!

              “Aw, it’s okay, Orion, it’s okay,” Stan said in a soothing tone, holding Orion close.  Orion thrashed in his arms, continuing to cry.  “C’mon, kid.”

              “No!  No!” Orion screamed.  He squirmed desperately.  “No!”

              “Hey, hey, you don’t gotta be so upset!”

              “No!”

              “Stanley, what in the world is going on?”  Stan spun around.  Ford stood in the doorway of the nursery.

              “I put him in new clothes and he lost his mind.”

              “Did you dress him in clothes from his dresser?”

              “No, but-”

              “Damn you, Stanley,” Ford hissed, snatching Orion from him.  Ford quickly unzipped the onesie, pulled it off Orion, and threw it onto the floor. “It’s okay, Orion.”  Ford gently rocked Orion until his sobs quieted to hiccups. “He can’t wear his sister’s clothes,” Ford whispered.

              “Why?  He’s not exactly macho.”

              “It has nothing to do with gender, it has to do with tactile sensitivity.”

              “Huh?”

              “Orion is extremely sensitive to certain fabrics. He can only wear clothing made of certain material.  Even then, he has to be awake.  He won’t fall asleep if he’s wearing anything more than his diaper.”

              “…Oh.”  Guilt began to spread throughout Stan.  “Well, why didn’t you tell me?”

              “I did!”

              “You told me what not to do.  You didn’t tell me why,” Stan said.  Ford scowled.

              “I shouldn’t have to explain myself when it comes to matters involving my children.  I’m their father.  I know their needs best.”

              “Yeah, yeah, whatever, fine.”  Stan crossed his arms.  “I’ll only dress him in his clothes, then.”

  ��           “Good.”  Ford carried Orion over to his crib and carefully set him down inside.  “He tired himself out from crying.  I hope it doesn’t throw off his schedule much.” Ford sighed.  “I need to get back to the kitchen.  Please watch over Iris until Angie comes home.”

              “You got it.”  Stan followed Ford out of the nursery, but veered into the living room instead of the kitchen.  Iris stood in the playpen, pouting at Stan.  “Hey there, sunshine.”

              “Unc,” Iris said in a tone that made it clear she was disappointed with him.  Stan laughed.

              “You sound just like your dad when you talk like that, you know.”

              “Unc.”

              “All right, all right.”  Stan lifted Iris from the playpen.  “I’ll rescue you from the baby jail.”  The front door opened.  Angie walked in.  “Hey, Ang.”

              “Stan,” Angie said with a nod.  She beamed at Iris.  “There’s my lil rainbow!”  Iris squealed happily.

              “Mama!”

              “I sure am,” Angie gushed.  Stan handed Iris over to her.  “Where’s Orion?”

              “In his crib.”

              “Already?”

              “He had a bit of a meltdown and wore himself out,” Stan explained.

              “Oh no.  Do ya know why?”

              “According to Ford, it’s ‘cause I put him in the wrong clothes.”

              “Ah.”  Angie nodded sagely.  “That’d do it.”

              “Really?”

              “Oh, yes.  He’s a sensitive little boy.”  Angie smiled. “But at least ya know now and ya won’t dress him wrong next time.”

              “Yeah…”  Stan stuffed his hands into his pockets.  “Look, Ang, I gotta ask you something.”

              “Shoot.”

              “Isn’t- isn’t it kinda coddling Orion?” Stan asked. Angie frowned.  “He should just deal with wearing clothes he’s not comfortable in.  That’s how life works.”

              “Stanley, Orion ain’t even two yet,” Angie said patiently.  “He’s supposed to be coddled.”

              “Well, yeah, but-”

              “When he gets older, if it’s still a problem, we’ll address it, try to ease him into other clothes.  But right now, he’s too little to understand what’s goin’ on. All he knows is that he’s uncomfortable, in pain, even.”

              “Fair enough,” Stan mumbled.  He looked down at his feet.

              “Stanley.”  Stan looked up.  Angie was watching him, not with sympathy, but with empathy.  “I understand.”

              “You do?”

              “Yes.”  Angie took a seat on the couch.  Stan sat down next to her.  “Stanford told me ‘bout how yer father was very into tough love.”

              “Yeah, he was.”

              “That was somethin’ I was worried ‘bout.  I was worried Stanford might slip into similar ways of parentin’.  But he didn’t.  He told me that the second he held Orion and Iris, he knew he couldn’t be harsh or tough on ‘em.”  Angie played with Iris’s six-fingered hands, her eyes soft.  “I understand that ya have that same instinctive urge to do as ya were raised.  But trust us when we say we know what we’re doin’, okay?”

              “…Okay.”

              “Good.”  Angie smiled at him.  “‘Cause Stanford ‘n I have been talkin’, and we think that, if yer willin’, we’d like to hire ya as a live-in nanny fer Orion and Iris.”

              “Huh?”

              “We’d pay ya and let ya stay in the guest room.” A twinkle appeared in her eye. “But only if ya do what we tell ya.”

              “Why?”

              “The kids love ya.  We need childcare, you need a job.”  Angie shrugged.  “Seems like a win-win sit’ation.”

              “You know I’m unemployed.”

              “Oh, sugar cube.”  Angie put a hand on Stan’s shoulder.  “We know ya ain’t just unemployed, we know yer homeless.”

              “…Great.”

              “But if ya take us up on this offer, ya won’t be.”

              Good point.

              “I’ll think about it,” Stan said after a moment, wanting to avoid seeming too eager.  Angie nodded.

              “Good.”  Crying sounded from down the hall.  Angie sighed. “I better go check on Orion.”  She handed Iris to Stan, then kissed his cheek. Stan watched her walk away, warmth spreading across his face.

[indigobackfire]

Autumn OTP Prompts

Day 2: Pumpkin

OTP: Indigo x Barnaby / Ismelda x Phoenix

Place: Hogwarts.

Time: October, 1988. It actually doesn't make sens with my headcanon timeline, but for now, let's pretend.

CW: Menix being naughty a doing a lil dirty flirting, nothing explicit.

(This is coming quite late but better late than never and I'll repeat this all throughout this month xD a cut this time bc it ended up longer and as usual please excuse any typos or let me know.)

"Ugh, stop that. Phoenix, tell her to stop."

Just from her words, Indigo starts skipping even more excited than before, swinging Barnaby's hand back and forth. She looks at Phoenix but he only looks down at her with an amused smile and squeezes her closer to himself.

"Oh, don't be such a debbie downer, Ismelda!" Indigo says. "This is exciting, our first Halloween together."

"No, it isn't the first."

"I mean together together."

Ismelda rolls her eyes. "Last year I was turning your head into a pumpkin, this year we're carving them together. I've truly gone to the dogs."

But Indigo knew she was, if not happy, pleased with herself for being here. Not based on instincts alone, her Legilimency often caught on the heavy cloud of anger that hovered her mind. But this time - well, whenever she was near Phoenix at least - that cloud dissipated into but a whisp of smoke.

Was it weird that they were doing this the four of them? Most certainly. It had been several months ago, but back then Ismelda had feelings for Barnaby, but he had feelings for Indigo, sister to Phoenix who had feelings for Ismelda... It took a while to untangle the mess, but they did.

And there weren't hard feelings cause for Ismelda it was easy to see her and Barnaby would never work, and even if for Indigo it was hard to comprehend how could Phoenix like Ismelda of all people, she was absolutely certain he loved and understood her. There was no spell, no potion, he knew who she was and wanted to be with her anyway.

And isn't that what Ismelda most craved? To be seen and understood. Even with her faults and difficult personality, still be desired. She looks up at Phoenix and hates herself for how speechless he still leaves her. Not even Ismelda understood why, but if he has stayed for as long as he has, perhaps she could allow herself to grow hopes in love.

It's close to twilight when they reach outdoors, making their way down the path to Hagrid's hut. The half-giant sat on the stairs of his house, petting with his enormous hand Fang's head, its little tail always wagging from side to side.

"Yeh came!"

"Of course! And I brought company if that isn't a bother."

"Nah, the more the merrier it's what I always say. But will yeh kids mind watchin' Fang for me? I think I'm in need of a good nap and yeh know what a big baby this one is."

"Of course!" Barnaby answers before anyone else could at least think of objecting and the puppy is unsurprisingly drawn to him, the boy kneeling to allow Fang to lick his face. "Fang is the best boy, aren't you?"

"Merlin's boots, I'm so bloody in love," Indigo says to herself watching the scene.

"Wake me up when yeh done, so we can have some Rock Cakes and tea."

After that they begin scavenging for the perfect pumpkin - Indigo picks a big one but certainly smaller than the one Barnaby chooses, Phoenix picks a taller one for himself and the smallest of the four for Ismelda.

"Why not like yours?"

"Because I know you'll make me carry it back for you, Mel"

She smirks. "Clever."

"More than you think."

"What now?"

"First we gut them, remember to drop the guts in this bowl, I'll try baking something with them later. Then we begin carving." Indigo then opens her saddlebag and takes out the carving knives to hand them out. "I sneaked some big knives from the kitchens and McGonagall helped me transfigure them. I earned a day in detention for it, but it was worth it."

"Wait, we're actually doing this ourselves? By hand?"

"Unless you know some pumpkin carving spell, yes."

Despite Ismelda's complaints, there was a collective pleasure in cutting those pumpkins open and shoving their hands inside to gut it.

"I'm gonna pretend this is-" Ismelda struggles to make the first incision. "-my sister. Cause I just wish I could crack her head open."

Everybody goes quiet for a moment, but then Indigo opens a smirk.

"Following your line of thought, I'm gonna pretend this is Jacob..." Indigo lifts the knife high and dives with it into the pumpkin's flesh. "For getting me into all this mess. I had the right to be a normal Hogwarts Student."

"You could never be normal," Barnaby comments with a smile, not lifting his eyes from his pumpkin, nearly done cutting open the top.

"Why not?" Indigo asks amused.

His eyes are calm when he looks at her. "You're not normal, you're special unlike anybody else."

"You're just saying that because you're my boyfriend."

"No. You are. You're a Legilimens and also the bravest girl I know. The bravest person I know. And nobody as supportive or as beautiful as you are."

Ismelda makes a gagging sound. "Could you two drop with the mushy stuff? Save it for when you're alone or I'll vomit."

Indigo rolls her eyes. "I'm gonna pretend you don't like to hear them about yourself. What? You heard Barnaby, I'm a Legilimens, I can see right through you."

Ismelda frowns finally able to cut through a hard spot in the flesh. "I also know you need a wand pointed right at someone to enter their minds."

"For now, Murk, for now."

The conversation drops once again when the girls start finishing cutting open their pumpkins. And while Phoenix was being thorough, calmly wiping clean the insides of the pumpkin, Barnaby shoved his hand inside and brought out that handful of seeds and wet pumpkin strings like he was tearing out someone's brains, laughing while at it.

"If you girls were cutting your siblings' heads, this is everyone who's mean to creatures." He then proceeds to throw the handful of guts in the bowl with enough strength it splurts around.

"Yeah, go at them, babe."

"Why not your parents? Or your grandma?" Ismelda says voice sounding dark.

Barnaby frowns down at his nearly emptied out pumpkin. "I don't wanna hurt them, I want them to be better."

Even she could see how upset he got, so she takes a deep breath and does the most un-Ismelda-like thing she could possibly do, probably influence by Phoenix's ever so light aura. "I'm s-sorry, Barnaby, for bringing them up."

Barnaby looks at her surprised. "Oh! It's okay."

Ismelda then turns to Phoenix with a naughty smile. "And you? Not gutting anyone?"

He smiles. "I'm pretending I'm doing way more pleasant things," he whispers closer to her ear, bringing his thumb to her lips when he's sure Indigo and Barnaby are too occupied with each other. She sucks on it and if it weren't so cold outside, he would've begun to sweat, and despite doing this so confidently, inside her chest, her heart feels like these pumpkins.

Of course, Indigo caught up on what's going on and she didn't need her legilimency to know that - his hand on her cheek, which she allowed to rest there despite being dirty with pumpkin, and the deep flush of his cheeks couldn't lie. And as much as she loves to see her brother's happiness, the last thing she wants to see is them kissing and the way they were looking at each other could only suggest one thing.

"So what you guys planning on carving?"

While Phoenix and Ismelda come back to their senses, Barnaby beams with excitement.

"I wanna try a dragon! A Ukrainian Ironbelly, cause they have pretty cool horns."

Phoenix picks up his gutted pumpkin analyzing the available surface. "This will sound silly but I wanna carve a phoenix with open wings. I even... made a sketch." He takes the piece of paper from his back pocket which everyone looks at with curiosity. "What about you?"

Indigo shrugs. "Nothing surprising, I'll try a cat sideways and the eyes on the other side. Ismelda?"

"Ha! I'll carve a scary face, like pumpkin lanterns are supposed to be."

[wanna-do-bad-things]

Expecting.

Summary: Tired of dating for nothing, Henry laid everything out for her on that very first date. But when he gets everything he hoped for, there’s one thing left that he really wants.

Word count: 1683

Warnings: trying to get pregnant (no heartbreak tho, it just takes a lil time), fluffy baby daddy Henry

A/N: this was for @henrythickcavill, requested via my patreon. 

Forever tag list:  @luclittlepond |  @fcgrizi  | @henrythickcavill  |  @mitzwinchester  |  @mary-ann84 | @hell1129-blog  | @pensieve-foryour-thoughts  |  @agniavateira  |  @dancingwendigo  |  @living-in-the-darkness | @trippedmetaldetector |  @watermeloncavill  |   @justaboringadult   |   @madbaddic7ed   |   @ruthoakenshield  |  @omgkatinka   |   @iloveyouyen   |   @spursondele    |

________

Henry has been on cloud nine ever since she told him she was pregnant. Tired and mentally exhausted trying to find the right person, Henry had all but given up. It’s not that he was actively looking for a girlfriend, or wife in his case, but he did hope that when the right person came along, he’d just know. He’d feel it in his bones. He didn’t think it would happen like it does in the movies, where everything aligns, everything tastes better, music sounds better and he can breathe like he’s never breathed before. But he thought he’d feel something different.

She didn’t breeze into his life. She didn’t make him understand now why everything else hadn’t worked out. But what she did do was make him wonder how the hell he’d managed to feel so complete before when he felt bursting at the seams when he was around her. He’d laid it all on the table on their first date.

“I know this is a little full on, but I’m going to be honest with you. I can’t keep doing meaningless dates. If you’re not looking for something serious, something long term and possibly the end goal, then this date isn’t going to go far. You can leave, I’ll still pay for the bill, but I won’t hold it against you. I understand not everyone will be on the same page.”

Instead of pushing her chair back, grabbing her coat and bag and walking out of the restaurant, she pulled her chair a little closer, poured them both a drink and said, “so what colour theme are we having at the wedding and how many children are we having?”

She took an open interest in what he had to say, she challenged him on a few of his viewpoints just for a good conversation piece. They shared many of the same opinions and differed on a handful but nothing deal breaking or something that neither could get past. Henry understood that not everyone was the same and listening to her speak was amazing. He adored that they were on the same page when it came to values and their life.

As the weeks and months went on, he tried to trip her up. Tried to catch her out and see if she was just spoon feeding him everything he wanted to hear but no, it continued to flow almost perfectly. Henry took her on several vacations per year, she joined him on set, rode him when he needed his stress relieving and helped him with his lines. She was by no means a good actress, but she would try to put her feelings into it, try to give the script some sort of justice and helped Henry when he needed it.

They married three years later, with her joking that Henry would rush her down the aisle just so he could get straight to the baby making part of marriage. But it didn’t happen as quickly as either of them hoped. She came off her birth control and though they’d lose themselves within the sheets (or on the counter tops, table, against the hallway wall, the sofa, his gaming chair…just anywhere which could hold their weight,) as often as possible without wanting to take the fun out of sex and just have it for the sake of having a baby, pregnancy just wasn’t as easy to happen as they’d thought.

A year and half into their marriage, she’d began to draw up schedules, bought thermometers to check her temperature and downloaded several “trying to get pregnant” apps. She tracked her cycles, found the optimum times for having sex and had started to pitch it all to Henry when she realised she was two weeks late.

He’d sat there before her, waiting for her to reach the main part of her big presentation of why looking at their baby making schedule would be most effective when he’d watched the blood drain from her face and her scramble out of the room, roughly slamming the bathroom door closed and lock it before he’d been able to fully understand what had just happened. He’d heard things dropping onto the floor, things being torn open and as he’d stood nervously on the other side of the bathroom door, his hand on the wooden surface, listening carefully for anything which could give him an idea of what had happened, he’d finally heard the little sob that came from her.

“Are you ok?” He’d asked softly, not wanting to refer to her by any pet names, instead addressing her by her name. She hadn’t replied for a moment or two, just the sound of her soft cries filling the room in which he couldn’t access until she’d finally slid the lock open and he found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by torn open pregnancy test boxes and four tests sitting in front of her, letters boasting PREGNANT 4+ WEEKS on each of them.

Henry hadn’t wanted to go too crazy. He’d wanted this for too long and didn’t want to curse anything by purchasing anything too early. He’d gripped her hand, their fingers locked together, tears falling from his eyes as he’d pressed their hands to his lips as his eyes had remained fixated on the screen during her scan, watching as their two babies wriggled around for them. Watching as their tiny limbs stretched out and they flipped themselves around in their little bubble of comfort.

With each passing week, Henry ensured that he took care of any of the big jobs, needing her to take it as easily as possible. She hadn’t wanted to completely give up their workouts, and he’d make sure that he was there to observe each one, with a personalised plan specifically for pregnancy. They scoured the websites for the perfect nursery set up. With the babies genders remaining a secret, pots of neutral paint sits in the room. Dust sheets are down ready to catch any splatters of paint which hadn’t made it onto the walls. Tins of light colours are waiting to be applied and Henry has changed into his “DIY” clothes which are sweatpants and a loose, though still fitted for him, cotton tee shirt.

Most of the walls will be a pale grey to match the carpet, but there’ll be soft mint greens, duck egg blues, pale yellows scattered around the room in forms of cuddle bears, artwork and books that he wants to read to them. Two rocking chairs have been placed, and tested, and he already looks forward to sitting in them while reading to the two of them as they have their feed, much like he’s already done with her sitting beside him, their joined hands pressed to her large bump as he’d read some of his favourite childhood stories to them so that they would already recognise his voice. She’s due in one months’ time, and only now does he feel confident enough to begin to paint and assemble everything he’d bought.

She’d caught him in the middle of their living room two months ago, the boxes emptied out and him checking every screw, every nut, bolt and piece against the assembly instructions to ensure that everything was there, fully prepared with the phone and laptop beside him to make all the forms of contact needed to get the right parts sent out. “I’m not leaving it until last minute to then find out something is missing, or wrong or damaged and it’s too late.”

He’s strolled around the house with the double pram, telling her he needed to break in the wheels. He’s practiced for what felt like hours closing the pram and re-opening it again. Getting it in and out of the large car which he bought for the babies in mind. He’s tested numerous ways of picking up the baby carriers and how to get them in and out of the car with ease. He’s completed a baby first aid course and made sure he’s bought enough things to baby proof the house.

“You have some explaining to do.” She says, waddling into the doorway of the nursery, holding up some of the baby outfits he’s purchased.

“Look at the little cape though.” He grins, putting down the paint roller and tray before he’s even applied the first stroke. He walks over to her, his hand instinctively going to her belly as the other touches the cape of the baby vest which reads “my daddy is superman.”

“And this?” She holds up a mini Chiefs kit.

“I don’t make the rules around here. It’s law that they should match their daddy.”

“But what if they choose to suppo-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Henry cuts her off with a wag of his finger, “we don’t have none of that negativity around here. Absolutely not.” It takes everything she can muster not to crack another smile and to try and keep her expression as neutral as possible but the stern look upon Henry’s face makes it more difficult to do so.

“You can’t wait for this, can you?” She asks him as she sinks down into her rocking chair and slowly goes back and forth, sighing contently to get the weight from her swelling ankles and sore feet.

“Lumberjack beard, bags under my eyes so big I could do a months shopping in them and endless stories of ‘so yeah, my kid pooped today’ conversations. I can’t wait.”

“No dad bod?” She questions.

“I’m a daddy now, and I’ve got a body.” You sure are daddy, she thinks. If she weren’t suffering from her aching hips, she’d be wanting to climb onto his lap and ride him. He looks far too good right now.

“Yeah you have, now let me see that body of yours get to work….on this room. Not on me.” She says, holding up her finger and lifting a leg up as though that could stop Henry from covering her body with his own, “you’ve done enough.”

“Well, you know what they say… it helps to speed things along…”

[tomdiddlyumptious]

T.H| YOU TORE ME APARTTTT

Summary: this is only like a real quick because I had writers block

Warnings! Language, kids, and shit like that

A/n: them Medea movies used to smack

You stood in your shared kitchen, dancing while you stirred the gumbo you made for your family, the one and only Mary j Blige playing, your favorite song ‘My Life’ playing as the kids were silent watching you as your little princess tried to dance like you.

“Look mommy I’m doing it!” “No you aren’t” Wesley said, mugging his sister Oliver. “Don’t be like that Wes, you keep practicing Oliver, you’re doing great” you smile looking back at her, Wesley still watching her as he felt second hand embarrassment “how about...you come and taste this” you grab the ladle and grab a small thing of the food and bring it to him, “blow it” you say, holding your hand under the ladle, he blowed it off and took it, “mmmm!” He smiled at you, Oliver still trying to practice the moves. “Mommy is the best cooker” Wesley said and Oliver agreed, “of course she is! Better then daddy at least” you let out a “pfft” and started laughing “you a lil bully oli” “he doesn’t know how to cook!” “He knows how to cook, he just doesn’t know his seasons yet honey”

“You should teach him!” “Teach him what Wes?” Tom said, coming in the house and eyeing his son as he shut the door. “How to cook!” “Ouch who said I don’t know how to cook?” He asked, Oliver and Wesley looked at each other before pointing at you “mommy!” Tom fake gasped as he walked into the kitchen “mommy did it?” They both aggressively nodded their head. “No I didn’t!” You giggled turning around and added just a little bit spice, he came behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Smells good” “it tastes good” he chuckled and pursed his lips to give you a kiss on the cheek, then you turned your head to give him a lip one.

“Yay!” “ew” Wesley stuck out his tongue as Oliver clapped. “Mommy and daddy are in loveee” she became googly eyed. “That’s naty” he shook his head in disgust. You and Tom laughed and pressed each other’s lips together again. He danced and pressed himself up against you “ya know, it could be mommy and daddy time” he whispered. “It’s Christmas, it’s actually children time” you both looked back at Oliver and Wesley who sat there playing Rock Paper Scissors. “How about we watch a movie” Tom said to the kids. “Yeah! And no Medea mom” Oliver said making you laugh. “Medea is a classic! I used to watch it all the time in the holidays, or anytime for that matter” you shrugged, “yes Medea!” Wes said.

“How about we like play the grinch or something” Tom asked, sneakily tickling you and you smacked your lips at him trying to get out of his grip. “How about you take a shower so we can have our matching pajamas” you suggested. “No! Medea Medea Medea it is!” Oliver said, hoping out of her seat and jumping on the couch and Wes did a ‘Ching Ching’ and went to the couch and plopped down. “Your stinky Oliver!” You shouted over the music. “No!” She shouted back, she’s actually scared of the water, absolutely terrified. Tom kissed your neck and you smiled “go play the movie Tom, I’m gonna take a shower” “without me?” “Thomas” you sighed, “whatttttt, I just wanna see my wife’s body, is that bad?” He whispered. “No it’s not, just go play that movie and I’ll get us situated”

You and Wes matched in the dark green pajamas while Tom and Oliver wore the red, all watching the grinch as you were leaning on Tom half asleep, Oliver and Wes to invested in the movie while Tom was watching you slowly fall asleep.

The doorbell startled you as you jumped making Tom laugh and stand up, “I got it” he kissed your forehead and put the thick weighted blanket ontop of you, “thank you” you stuck your lips up for a lazy kiss which he took happily. Tom walked over to the door, opening it revealing “mum?” He said more of a question then a statement. “You thought it was gonna be Christmas without us?” “Or us?” In the back ground stood your mom and dad, your older brother and other siblings.

“So much for mommy and daddy time” he muttered. “Y/ns asleep” “that’s a surprise” your older brother said (let’s call him jamie). Harry and Sam held the bags of presents and Tom helped jamie. “She cooked gumbo?” Your mom (let’s call her...Angela) whispered, putting the macoroni in the oven.

Jamie plopped down next to you as you were knocked out, he smiled and joked to himself and he clamped his fingers over your nose, making your eyes go wide as you slapped whosever hand away. “Prick” you muttered as he laughed again, you sighed “why are you in my house” “that’s so inviting y/n” “shut up James” “not my name” “similar”

Sam and jamie set up the presents and the kids were gonna be really happy this year, you and your mom chatted as you had to continuesly look at your dad socializing with Tom. “Baby would you stop! He has nothing against him” Angela muttered. “I know but dad can be mean sometimes” “well he has nothing to be mad for” her lips in a tight manner as she glared at you, you sighed and playfully rolled your eyes which she smiled at. “He misses you” she adds. “I don’t believe it” “yeah because you’ve both havent talked to each other for years” “that’s not true” “well it seems like it! He loves you girl” niki made her way into the kitchen “alright grown folks bisnuess ” “mom I’m litterally 22” “and just 5 years ago you were a minor” you groaned and threw a fit, draping your feet as you left the kitchen and into the livingroom, Sam and Harry playing with the kids as you placed the weighted blanket back on yourself.

By time it was dinner, you and Tom thanked each other mentally for the buying the large table. You and your family sat mixed, Tom and your mom of course sitting next to you. Wine glasses and glasses of juice being clanked together, laughing at childhood stories that you dad told, Tom giving you kisses on the forehead and holding your hand.

After the kids opened up the presents you all collected each other’s presents, you got body mists and some clothes and a bracelet, you made everyone a large gift bag, niki and your mom with purses, dresses and gift cards, you bought your dad a Rolex and keys for a new car, you just went all out this time.

“Mommy daddy time?” Tom asked, watching as you were in the desk, wearing lingerie. You turned your body towards him and took off your glasses. “Yes, mommy daddy time” you stood up and walked over to the bed, and then just stopped infront of it. Tom raised his eyebrows at you before you started dramatically dancing. “Jingle bell jingle bell jingle bell rock” you sung, doing body rolls as he cringed. You turned to the side and popped your back out, placing your hands on your knees. “Stop” he genuinely asked. “No you wanted mommy and daddy time right? What bright time it’s the right to rock the night away” you hit the whip and did the nae nae, “y/n stop” “that’s the jingle bell rock!” You climbed on the bed and sat on his lap, pressing yourself on him as you continued to sing, he gripped your ass “that’s the jingle bell rockkkkkkk!” You shook him and he scrunched his face trying to stay stiff.

“Pleaseeee be serious!” He glared at you. “LAST CHRISTMAS I GAVE YOU MY HEARTTT THE VERY NEXT DAY-“ he cut you off by putting his lips on yours while flipping you over, laughing as he went down to kiss your neck “THIS YEARR TO SAVE ME FROM TEARS-“ “y/n shut up!” He laughed and you smiled, “fine, get to work Santa” “don’t even” “ho ho ho” “your a ho ho ho” “get off me Thomas” “wait-“

Let’s say bells weren’t the only thing that jingled 🤭😳

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 13)

(gif by me! I use the iphone app momento)

tw: language, angst, mentions of drug use (relapse), mentions of miscarriage

word count: 7.3k (im sorry)

masterlist

series masterlist

Spencer got up from the cold tile floor, fuzzy unicorn in hand, and faced the window above the kitchen sink. He stared out of it, admiring the snow that was still falling lightly, wondering if it was raining in Seattle. His memory flashed to the last time he stood in the rain with you, but he tried to shake the images away. Instead he watched the snowflakes hit his windowpanes and melt. He hoped that maybe you were somewhere staring out of a window, admiring the dreary weather, and thinking of him too. 

He found his place against the dishwasher again, sliding down as his mismatched socks gave way so he could stretch his long legs out fully. He pulled the nearly empty box onto his lap and appreciated the light weight of it, as he continued with his twelfth letter and thirteenth item. Thirteen, a number whose history of unluckiness stems all the way back to the thirteen attendees of the Last Supper, and tracks through the number of steps leading up to the gallows, all the way to the number of letters in the names of some of the most infamous criminals. 

Thirteen was a haunted number, which rightly accompanied a haunting letter. 

“This one’s long. It’s a month of tarnished memories packed into a few pieces of paper. So far I’ve gone through half of a college-ruled one subject notebook and I’ve had to change pens twice. It’s nearing 2:30, and the wine is finally hitting my empty stomach. Sorry in advance for the way my handwriting will be. I’ll try to make this make as much sense as I can. 

If you look at your thirteenth item it is the notepad I stole from that resort in Florida. There isn’t much around to signify this letter. You don’t keep mementos from one of the saddest days of your life, but for some reason I took this useless paper and shoved it in my purse on my way out. Good thing I did, or you’d have no item to attach to these memories. Though I suppose that might be better. 

The resort was where we were going to be at for our ‘babymoon,’ whatever that is. What a dumb idea, I’m still mad at myself for letting Garcia talk us into one. She just made it sound so appealing. 

Once everyone knew I was pregnant, Hotch pretty much sat me in Quantico with Penelope. There were a few local cases where I was lucky enough to go visit the ME’s office, but usually I kicked my feet up in her lair while you were out in the field. 

“A what?” I said one day as she ran DNA through CODIS. The two of us were drinking herbal tea, and I was barely 16 weeks. I just looked like I had a big lunch in my stomach, not a baby the size of an avocado. 

“A babymoon. It’s like a honeymoon, but you go when you’re pregnant. It’s one last trip for mommy and daddy to go on and spend quality time together. How many trips have you and Dad-Wonder even been on?”

I shrugged. We didn’t travel much for pleasure. We traveled for work, so on our rare days off we liked to be at home. 

“I mean we’ve gone to Vegas and Connecticut a few times.”

She rolled her eyes, “Visiting family, my dear, is not a vacation! I was thinking you two would go to the beach. You guys relax and wade in the ocean and Spencer can build sandcastles that defy every law of physics!”

I laughed at that. You and the beach? It just didn’t feel natural to me. Probably because you aren’t capable of actually relaxing.  

“That does sound fun,” I said and I spoke to my barely there stomach, “And it would make daddy take a few days off.”

Penelope squealed and started clicking at her computer, “I’ll find a resort online right now! Okay so how about Marco Island? It’s gorgeous and in Florida, so it’ll be like eighty and sunny, even in the beginning of December.”

“I’ll have to talk to Spence about it. I mean I know it would be fun and all but we really should be saving money for a crib, and car seat, and bassinet, and high chair, and a rocking chair, and a baby swing, and a—“

Garcia stopped me from spiraling out of control, “That is why you throw a huge baby shower! People buy those things for you.”

I rubbed my tummy again, “Oh no, Daddy is very particular about what things are bought.”

“That’s why you have a registry, Momma Bear. Now, no more excuses.”

Before I could even call you, she had put in both of our requests for days off and we had a week long reservation at this fancy resort that you see listed at the top of this notepad, the “Crystal Cove”.  

I was only slightly mortified that she did all this without me asking you. Mostly, I was happy. I was afraid you wouldn’t say yes, but if PG already booked it, you kind of had to agree. And to my surprise, you did. 

When you got back from that case we were at home, you eating something I had poorly made from a random cookbook on a shelf. I had decided to start cooking more, so I could make homemade meals. I wanted to be that mom who cuts sandwiches into flower shapes and always has fresh baked bread and cookies laying around. I wanted us to be those parents; the ones who are so sickeningly in love that their kids roll their eyes every time they kiss. We were those parents, kind of, if we could even be considered ‘parents.’ At that point, I don’t think we were. But we were definitely in tooth-rotting, sickeningly sweet love. 

“So, I have a surprise for you,” I said, coming up behind you and rustling your hair. 

“Hm?” You said, stuffing your face like you hadn’t eaten in days. You probably hadn’t. You’re the king of forgetting to eat. Maybe that’s how you stay so skinny. 

“I booked a trip, well I guess technically Garcia did.”

“A trip?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, a trip, to the beach. Penelope called it a ‘babymoon.’”

You laughed, “A babymoon? I’m not familiar."

I smiled and sat across from you, “It’s like a honeymoon, except it's just me and you relaxing and spending quality time together before this lil dude makes his appearance.”

You smiled, “I’m telling you, it’s a girl.”

I rolled my eyes, “It’s definitely a boy, but stop ignoring my offer.”

“Well, it’s not really an offer so much as it is you telling me that we’re doing this.”

“Okay, yes Garcia helped me book it already, and yes she put in our requests for days off, but you can say no.”

You did your little nose twitch scrunch thing, “I’d never say no to quality time with you, Love.”

You leaned over and kissed me, and I squealed, “I’m so excited! I have to buy maternity bathing suits now! Oh and a sunhat!””

Spencer smiled fondly, recounting that day. He was thrilled to go, minus the part where he’d have to wear shorts, and flip flops. Something about the piece that goes between your toes makes him squeamish. He was looking for the right opportunity to use something special he had bought for you, and you had just given him it. A week on a beautiful beach with the love of his life? That would be the perfect time to ask you what he had been waiting to ask you since JJ’s wedding. He was going to take Hotch’s advice; stop waiting, start doing, and get down on one knee with a blue velvet box. 

He never got the chance to. The trip was supposed to be in the beginning of December, around your week twenty-four. You never got that far. 

He got up from the ground, immediately digging around in a drawer full of pencils and compasses and rulers, finding the blue box in a corner. It was covered in pencil shavings and dust. He hadn’t looked at it in months. He held it delicately in his hands before opening it. 

It was plain, but he remembered you said that was what you wanted. 

“Oval, of course and silver,” You had explained to Penelope and JJ at a night out years ago. Derek and Spencer sat on the opposite side of the table, but his ears perked up at the mention of rings. 

“I like just the band,” JJ said, admiring her own ring, “And I have Henry’s birthstone, the citrine, so I didn’t need another one.”

“What kind of stone Y/N? I’d love a pink diamond! Or a ruby! Imagine!” Penelope gushed. 

You shook your head, “I’d take cubic zirconia, if it was coming from the right guy.”

Both Penelope and JJ stuck their tongues out, “Nuh-uh!” Garcia said, grabbing her phone to scroll through more pinterest photos. 

“Spence will be getting you a diamond.”

You rolled your eyes and whispered, “Don’t jinx it JJ! And I don’t want a diamond.”

Her mouth dropped, “No diamond? Really.”

“Diamonds aren’t ethically sourced.”

“Lab grown! Get lab grown!” PG piped it, showing you a picture of a ring, just an oval in a plain silver setting. 

“That! That’s the one!” You said and Garcia giggled, going on a rant about her dream wedding. 

Spencer had gotten that exact ring. Lab grown, oval, classic, beautiful. It was what you wanted, and you deserved everything you ever wanted. 

Spencer looked at the notepad. He could tell you had a hard time picking an item for this letter. He knows this letter is the end, the other two are the epilogue of  a story he wishes you kept writing. Crystal Cove is the place where he had planned on asking you to marry him, but it ended up being the place where your love story ended. He tossed the notebook to the side and decided that the souvenir for this letter was now going to be this ring. This ring that sparkled and shined, even in the dull incandescent lights of his kitchen. This ring that belonged on your finger, and not in the back of a drawer. This ring that you didn’t even know existed, but if you had, maybe you’d still be together. 

“I did buy three maternity bathing suits, and you bought shorts. Spencer Reid in shorts. It was going to be the best trip ever. We were going to snorkel and look at sea turtles and sunbathe and drink virgin piña coladas by the ocean. We were going to get couples massages and spend every moment loving and appreciating each other.

The actual trip? Much different than the one we had planned on paper, but let’s first discuss that time between the hospital and the trip. 

It was four weeks. Four weeks of me sitting at home while you were off at work. Four weeks of the door opening and Derek walking through, not you. And on the odd chance that it was you opening the door, you’d be appearing at odd hours of the night to grab a new suit or a file or a snack and then getting back in your shitty car and going to your apartment. Each time I heard that comforting sound of your satchel hitting the floor, I’d crawl out of the cave of blankets I was in to find you, and you’d act like I wasn’t even there. 

For the first few days, you asked me how I was and if I was feeling better, then you’d check your phone and wave goodbye. After that, I was lucky if you’d say hello, then I was lucky if I even got a glimpse of you. You never held me. You never kissed me. You never told me you loved me.

I got all my information about you from Derek. Every day I texted you, “Have a good day at work! Talk soon?” And everyday you didn’t answer, so I’d ask Derek if you were okay. He’d always tell me what you were doing. Usually you would take a stack of files of cases to a dark room and make preliminary profiles to send back to the departments, alone. I’d tell him thank you, and the next day would be the same nonsense. 

Those four weeks dragged. It was like every minute was an hour and everyday was a year. I was healing, even without you, everyday I felt better and better. But that’s relative to the day before. I haven’t felt ‘good’ yet. I haven’t felt ‘happiness’ yet. But I will. And I’m counting on that. 

My mandatory leave was four weeks, and at the end of that Hotch called me in for a ‘mandatory psychological evaluation.’ I didn’t tell you about it because you weren’t speaking to me, and even when you did you were angry and snappy and rude.  

I didn’t pass the evaluation. Even though the BAU wrote those damn questions, I still didn’t pass. When my four weeks were up, you were expecting me at work, and I never showed. You didn’t notice how not okay I was because you were too busy handling your own feelings, which I understand. You have to take care of yourself first, deal with your own trauma before touching anyone else’s. So, your trauma was none of my business, a concept you should've applied to my healing process. 

I was supposed to come back on a Monday and when I didn’t show you came to the house. You opened the door and yelled my name. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks, and it felt good. I thought you had finally come home. I thought you were finally ready to heal with me, but you weren’t. You were there to judge me.

I think I ran to where you were, a smile on my face that I didn’t think I was capable of making, “Hey!”

You looked so put together in a neatly pressed suit, but your eyes exposed you. They were bloodshot and the bags were so large they almost reached the end of your nose. I had on one of your shirts; it was comforting at the time. Not so much anymore.  

You looked me up and down, a small scowl forming on your face, “Where were you today?”

I took a deep breath, and I lied, because lying to you felt easier than telling you the truth. The truth that I was not deemed stable enough to come back, even though I wanted to. I needed to be distracted. I was ashamed, scared, confused. 

“I-I didn’t go.”

“Didn’t go? You’ll get fired Y/N.”

I sighed, “No, my leave got extended.”

I could feel the way your eyes bore into my skull as I dodged eye contact. 

“Extended?! It’s been four weeks.”

“I’m not ready!” I desperately wanted you to see through it. I thought I was ready, but the papers disagreed.

“Hotch let you do that?” Your voice was increasing and I found myself inching away from you.

“He encouraged it!” Another lie. He didn’t ‘encourage’ it. He forced me.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and opening the door again.

“You’re leaving? Spencer c’mon I-”

You cut me off by slamming that door in my face. 

That’s when I started closing myself off. I started dreading the sound of your feet against the floor at three am. I started to put my own walls up, but they would dull in comparison to the Great Wall of Spencer you built around yourself to keep me out.”

Spencer was always good at putting walls up. In fact, you were the only person to ever get him to take (almost) all of them down. There’s a side of him he doesn’t show anyone, a side of him that he reserves for himself, and when something happens, that’s where he goes. He goes to the corner of his brain where he feels safe, and the walls come up to protect him.

And in those last four weeks, he did just that. He put the walls up, shut you out, and decided that was better. Except it wasn’t better, it just was easier. It was easier for him to bypass you and find a new outfit for work tomorrow. It was easier for him to disappear in the office until the odd hours of the morning. It was easier for him to hide away from you, because when he’s exposed he always gets hurt. It was easier to act like everything was fine, even though everything was the opposite of fine. 

He never needed to go to the house, part of him was drawn there like a moth to a lantern. He was drawn to you. As much as he didn’t want to see those four walls, he still needed to check on you. He just did it in his own damaged way. He’d get a glimpse of you in old sweats and a shirt with a hole in it, hair a mess and mascara from two weeks ago adding to your eye bags and he’d be reminded that he couldn’t be there for you. He would never be enough, and he’d retreat into the comfort of solitude. 

He was so preoccupied with being hurt, that he didn’t realize just how much he hurt you too. 

“I had forgotten about the stupid trip, and so had you. You were too preoccupied with work and not speaking to me and I was preoccupied with crying and trying to speak to you. I only remembered the trip when I got an email from the airline about the flight, they had to move our seats or something stupid. I decided that was a reason for you to actually need to speak to me like I was a person, so I took advantage of it. 

I intercepted you at home one day. I had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for you. You came home at two am. 

“Hey,” I said, immediately as you walked through the door. You looked surprised that I was up. 

“Hi, I’m just gonna—“

“Spencer, stop. We have to talk.”

You crossed your arms, not leaving the threshold of the door, “No. I told you a million times Y/N, I don’t want to talk.”

“Not about...” I couldn’t find the words and you started up the stairs. 

“Are we going on this damn trip or not?” I said, my voice cracking from lack of use. 

You stopped, looking over the banister at me, “You didn’t cancel it?”

“I didn’t think of it until now. We’re supposed to leave in two days.”

You groaned, “Why didn’t you cancel it?”

I threw my hands up. As if all of this was my responsibility? 

 “I was preoccupied! Did you cancel your days off?”

You shook your head, rubbing your face, “No, God. Can we still get a refund?”

I was hurt that you didn’t want to go, but not surprised. As I stared at the front door from my spot at the kitchen table I decided that I was going to go no matter what. It was going to be refreshing to look at the ocean instead of an empty nursery. That would be my distraction.

 “I-I’m going. I’ll pay for your half, but I’m going. I’m losing my mind here, Spence.”

You looked at me again, still contemplating your options. 

“I get it, okay? You can’t be in this house, but neither can I. Maybe we can talk and stuff on neutral ground. I-I just want you there with me, the way it was supposed to be.”

Then you took me by surprise, you nodded, “Yeah, yeah we’ll go.”

I’m sure I lit up like Rockefeller Center at Christmas, “Really?”

You rubbed your eyes, “Yeah, we can go Y/N.”

I was feeling lucky, so I pushed it, too hard, “Are you staying tonight?”

Your voice went from sleepy to sour, “No.”

And you vanished up the stairs, taking all my hope in us with you. 

I knew deep down it wouldn’t end well. I knew it was going to be fighting and yelling and arguing, but any time with you was good time with you at that point. And I favored the little bit of serotonin and dopamine you flood my brain with as opposed to staring at the gray walls of the kitchen alone.”

Spencer only agreed to go because he thought he was getting there. Everyday he felt a little better when he’d walk through the door, but he still wasn’t ready. He thought a week of no work and no one to talk to except you would bring the walls down. This would finally be the catalyst in a reaction that was taking far too long to complete. He also couldn’t stand the thought of you flying and spending a week alone. He felt better about you being alone here because you weren’t really alone. You had Derek visiting, Garcia dropping off baskets, phone calls from Emily, the odd visit from Rossi, and apparently phone calls to Hotch, but on that island you’d really be alone, and he was worried about how you’d handle it. 

“So two days later we got on a three hour flight to Miami, and I drove our rental car to this resort. We didn’t talk much the whole time, besides some small talk about the flight and other odd comments. It was painfully awkward, and I regretted even coming. 

We didn’t speak until I used the keycard to open the door, and we stared at the one king sized bed in the room.

“Oh,” was all you said when you realized you’d have to share with me.

“What?”

“There’s only one bed.”

I rolled my eyes, “Spencer, we’ve shared a bed for three years.”

You just stood at the door with your hands fidgeting on the handle of the suitcase, “I’ll call down and ask for a cot to be brought up.”

“A cot? Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe you, “Why come if you wouldn’t even share a bed with me? I said I’d be fine alone.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but changed your mind. 

“Great communication skills Spence. Really, I’m impressed.” You rolled your eyes and finally started to unpack your bag, “I came because I was worried about what you’d do here all alone.”

Part of me was happy you were worried, but a bigger part was annoyed, “I’ve been handling being alone fine, thanks.”

You scoffed, “Yeah. That’s why you need Derek to bring you food everyday, because you’re doing so well.”

I bit my tongue and tried to speak calmly, “Well at least someone checks on me everyday.”

That shut you right up.

The three days you were there went as follows: we slept as far apart from each other as we could, despite how badly I wanted to cuddle into your arms. We’d get up in silence, eat breakfast in silence, walk to the beach and read in silence, eat lunch and dinner in silence, and each night we’d yell at each other until we fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

Remember what I said to trigger the fight on December third, your last day there? How could you forget? It’s the fight that broke us up. 

“So, I was thinking of going to a counselor,” I said, staring at the waves lap the sand from the balcony of our room. The air felt cold for eighty degrees. But maybe that was just because the air between me and you had been cold for weeks. 

You were sitting next to me, but I could tell you were worlds away. 

“Spence,” I nudged, trying to snap you out of your daydream. 

“Hm? What?”

“I said I’m going to go to a counselor.”

You twisted your face, “A counselor? What for?”

I shrugged, “I-I think it’d be good for me. It’s a grief counselor.”

You turned to look at me, your brow covered in sweat and your eyes watery. You were incessantly bouncing your left leg, rubbing at your nose, and you seemed disinterested in every single thing I was saying or doing. In fact, you’d been acting that way since the first day you disappeared to your apartment. 

“Counselor? Yeah,” You were fidgeting, barely making eye contact. 

A feeling I can only describe as pure dread formed in my stomach. I thought I might puke, but I swallowed the feeling and kept talking, “I got a recommendation from Hotch. He said he went to Dr. Stevens after Haley died. He said it really helped.”

You were still not listening. 

“I think it’d be good if we went together.”

That finally got your undivided attention. “Together?” You snapped, “No.”

“Why not?” I said it with an air of exhaustion and despair. I was tired of this. So fucking tired of it. 

“I’m not going to a damn therapist, Y/N,” You seethed, your metal deck chair scraping against the concrete as you stood in front of me. 

The sky looked stormy, palm trees whipping in the wind as you came before me. The bags under your eyes looked like bruises, and you had on sleeves. It was eighty and you had on sleeves.

“Okay, I’ll go alone then. I think he could really help us though.”

I was giving up on fighting. I didn’t understand how when I was at my absolute low you could just keep kicking me while I was down. All I wanted was for you to go to someone and talk about it. That’s it. You were acting like I’d asked you to move a mountain for me, which, might I add, at one point you would have done. 

“He? You really think a male therapist is going to help? You lost a baby, Y/N—“

“WE,” I clarified, for what felt like the fiftieth time, “We lost a baby.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored me, “You lost a baby. How does a male therapist help you through that?”

I was angry now. It was bubbling up to the top and I thought I might explode. 

“He’s a grief counselor! He’ll help me through my GRIEF! And I think you should go because clearly you have a lot going on. You always have! You should’ve been seeing someone for years.”

“Oh, I have a lot going on?” You sneered, “Of course I have a lot going on! I go to work everyday to bring you home a paycheck so you can sit around all day and do nothing.”

I stood up, got close to your face, “I’m on leave.”

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.”

You bypassed me and went inside, and my hot anger turned into wet anger and fat tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“Do you know how traumatic this was on my body? Do you? Everything hurts and you were supposed to be there! You were supposed to take four weeks off too! You were supposed to be there for me!”

“Yeah and who’s there for me!” You yelled, louder than I think you ever had; at me at least. You had thrown your suitcase on the bed, haphazardly grabbing your clothes from the drawers and shoving them in. 

“I would’ve been,” I said softly, coming up behind you to grab your arm lightly, “If you had let me.”

You pulled back, “Don’t touch me!”

I reached up to wipe my eyes and crossed my arms in front of myself defensively, “I want to be there for you, Spencer. I do. Why won’t you let me?”

You didn’t answer, because even you didn’t know why. You just stood over the suitcase, one arm on either side of it, hair matted to your sweaty face, panting and panting. 

The facts I had chosen to ignore were staring me in the face again. Or maybe I was just that oblivious. 

“I’ve never seen you like this. This isn’t you, Love,” I tried to say in my most soothing voice. The dread had clawed its way back up to the back of my throat. 

“Or maybe this is me,” you said softly, and I swear you were crying. Or maybe I hoped you were, that way we were both sobbing. That’s as close to togetherness as we could get. 

“Maybe this is who I am now, or who I’ve been all along.”

I reached out for you again, but stopped myself, “No, Spencer. The real you isn’t this angry, and bitter, and mean.”

You slammed your hands against the bed, “Yes it is!”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” I said sadly, shaky breaths between words, “Is that what you’ve been going to your apartment and doing?”

You turned around, skin sweaty and eyes red, “What? What are you talking about now? God, do you ever stop talking?”

I snapped, ignoring your last jab there, “Are you using?”

Your face contorted into a sour expression, “Am I using?”

“Yeah, Spencer! Are you? Because I can’t see any other reason for why you’re so irritable and sweaty and out of it! So I’ll ask you again, are you going through withdrawal?”

You looked like I had literally punched you in the gut, and I kind of had. It was a low blow, I’ll admit it, but I was seriously worried about you. If an event would trigger you, this would’ve been it. 

“What? No!”

I wasn’t sure whether or not I should believe you, but I knew I had to support you either way. I love you, even when you’re angry at me, I still love you. Even when you throw clothes and seethe at me through gritted teeth, I still love you. That’s my fatal flaw. No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, lower lip pinched between his teeth. Was he really that terrible? He didn’t remember being so spiteful. Reading it back, he understood why you thought he was high, and he had thought about it more than he cared to admit. But he hadn’t touched the stuff in seven years, and he wasn’t about to start again now.

‘No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.’ 

That line made him want to cry, hands clenching the ring box as if it were a stress ball. That line simultaneously felt like a stab in the gut and a breath of fresh air. He had given you so many reasons to walk away, and the one reason to stay was there in his palm, unused.

““It’s okay if you are. I understand this is a... hard time. I’ll support you through this,” I put my hands out to touch your chest. 

“I’m not high and haven’t been in years!” You swatted my hands down. 

“Then what the hell is going on!?” 

“I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m heartbroken!” You yelled, going back out onto the balcony to stand in the rain that had started pouring down in sheets. 

“Spencer! Stop!” I followed you out, tears mixing with rain to the point that I didn’t know which was which. 

“I’m just confused! It’s hard to see the point in all this anymore. Maybe it’s just not worth it,” You said, yelling at the ocean not at me. Rain soaked our clothes instantly. Part of me was hoping this scene would end like the ‘notebook’ we’d kiss and you’d spin me around. I guess this is kind of like the notebook, it’s a story to help you remember us. Except you don’t have Alzheimer’s and I wrote 15 letters, not 365. 

“Maybe what’s not worth it?” I was yelling too, just so you could hear me over the sound of the wind and the rain. 

“This!” You gestured between us. I felt like you knocked the air out of me, my whole body stinging. 

“But I love you!”

“All of this has made me realize that love isn’t everything! I love you too but we need more than that!”

That was the first time I’d heard you say ‘I love you’ in a month, but it was a double edged sword. I bit my lip so hard I think I started bleeding, “Love isn’t enough? Are you kidding me, Spencer?”

You swallowed thickly, “No! I’m not kidding. I’ve never been more serious!”

“So what? That’s it?” I said it quietly, but I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to scream that you were being an idiot. You were being ridiculous. You were being unnecessarily cruel. But I didn’t. I was tired and water logged. I had finally given up.

You ran your hands through your hair, “No–it’s–we we aren’t over Y/N. I’m just saying that it’s gonna take more than love to fix us.”

“Well maybe if you were ever home, we could actually try. But you aren’t. You’re always gone! So explain to me how we’re going to fix this. What’s it gonna take Spencer? What do you want from me?”

You took a deep breath, uttering words I was so sick of hearing, “We need space and time.”

“Space? Time? It’s been a month Spencer! I let you go to work. I let you spend every day at your damn apartment. I stopped calling. I stopped checking in. How much more space and time do you want?”

“Thirty-four days,” you mumbled, just so I could barely hear. The thunder rolled, mostly drowning it out. 

“What was that?” 

“It’s been THIRTY-FOUR days, Y/N. Thirty-four. I don’t know how you expect me to be okay after only thirty-four days.”

“I don’t expect you to be fine! I expect you to speak to me! To look at me! I want to go to bed crying and have you there next to me. I want to be there for you when you’re crying. The only way we get better is if we do this TOGETHER!”

The anger looked like it melted off of you, and I took that as my opportunity to approach. I threw my arms around your soaked body as you shook with sobs into my shoulder. I held you like my life depended on it, because in a way it did. You wrapped your arms around me too, and everything felt okay. We were standing in the pouring rain, holding each other as we cried, and somehow I felt more okay than I had in the thirty-four days prior. It felt like maybe you were coming back to me. 

You weren’t. 

We stood like that for what felt like hours, and eventually I pulled you inside. I wish I didn’t. I wish we stayed there, holding each other in the rain until the sun came up and dried us off. I foolishly thought the rain washed our sins away. 

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, my head on your shoulder as we wrapped ourselves in towels, “I promise.”

You shrugged me off of you, going back to packing your bag. 

“Spencer, stop packing, please,” I begged, grabbing the items you were putting in and taking them back out. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you said plainly, taking a shirt and putting it back in. 

“I-I thought—“

“Thought what, Y/N? That because I cried to you and told you I loved you that we were magically okay?” 

I stammered, “No. No! But I thought it meant we were in this together now.” 

“You just accused me of relapsing an hour ago.”

“And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but that’s not a reason you should go,” I pleaded, reaching for you again. I thought if you walked away I’d never see you again.

“You don’t trust me,” your voice cracked. 

“No, Love, I—“

“Don’t call me that.”

The pain in my chest bloomed, sending a wave of heartache through my entire body. A heartache I still haven’t been able to shake. It’s still there. Some days it's a thunder crack and sometimes it's a low grumble, but it’s always there. The rain hasn't stopped.  

I hadn’t even realized that you were completely packed until you zipped the suitcase shut. 

“You’re really leaving?” 

You stopped at the door, hand on the handle, to turn and face me. I didn’t need to use my profiling skills to see how much pain you were in, and my pain doubled at the sight. I’ve always been an empath when it comes to you, feeling what you feel like it’s my own. 

“I am.”

I crossed the room and threw my arms around you, sobbing into your chest. To my surprise, you wrapped your arms around me lightly. 

“I understand,” I said, looking into your eyes, “We can’t be there for each other the way we need to.”

You nodded into my shoulder, “Stay. When you get home from this we’ll talk. I just need a few more days.”

I shook my head, finally coming to the realization that we didn’t work anymore. We weren’t healthy anymore. 

“Don’t bother. The writing’s on the wall, Spence,” my voice wavered, and I regretted every word as they left my mouth, “I’ve been waiting for that person from the hospital to come home to me. I’ve been waiting for the Spencer who lends me his shirts and fact dumps and eats IHOP and ice cream with me to come home.”

I felt your breath stop under my arms, “But that Spencer, the Spencer I love, isn’t here anymore. We need to be alone.”

I felt you shake with tears under me, and that triggered mine, “We have to break up.”

I wish I never said it. I wish I gave you those few days, but we both know those few days would’ve turned into weeks and months and we would’ve ended up here anyway. I wish you didn’t let me say them. I wish you kissed me to shut me up and told me I was being stupid. I wish I didn’t watch you go down that elevator, tears on your cheeks. I wish I didn’t spend the other four days in an empty king sized bed, crying for you. 

I realize now that you changed. I did too. Instead of wishing for the old you, I should’ve learned to love the new you. I think I would’ve, if I had given it a chance. Actually, I know I would’ve. I think I’d fall in love with every version of you that could ever exist or has ever existed. You and I, we’re meant to be together. 

I know you probably don’t believe in it, but I like to think that we’re twin flames; we’re two halves of one soul that somehow ended up in two bodies and constantly pull to find each other again. I’ve read a lot about them recently. Twin flames don’t necessarily end up together. They can even just be two people with an intense friendship. They’re people who help each other grow, even if that means they’re only in your life for a short time. I like to think that we are that case, and that in some parallel universe I’m with you and we have our daughter and we’re happy. I just wish that I was in that universe now. 

I know it’s for the best that we went to the damn Crystal Cove and broke up. I’m sure someday in the future I’ll be pleased with that decision, but for now, I still regret it.”

Spencer stared at the notepad, eyes flicking between that in his left hand and the ring box in his right. He took the ring out and admired it in the light. It glinted and glimmered, delicately refracting light onto the cabinets. He slid it halfway down his ring finger because that’s as far as it would go. He imagined it was on your slender, perfectly manicured hand instead of his, but an ache formed where his heart was when he realized it’d never end up here. 

Spencer grabbed the notebook. It was unlined and the paper felt flimsy and thin. He got up from the floor to find a pencil in the drawer the ring had been hidden in, and took it out to scrawl his own letter to go with his own memento. A sixteenth letter for a sixteenth item you had no idea even existed. 

“Y/N,

I’d like to consider this letter sixteen, to go with the engagement ring that’s in my palm. I bought this ring the day after we ate dinner at Rossi’s and showed everyone tiny FBI onesies. I have your perfect ring here in my hand, a plain silver band with a lab-grown diamond in a four-prong setting in the center, just like you told Garcia you wanted. I should’ve given it to you the day I bought it, but I waited until the perfect opportunity presented itself. 

What you didn’t know about the trip to the Crystal Cove was that I was going to propose to you there. I was going to get down on one knee in the sand at sunset after dinner. I even had a whole speech planned. I was going to tell you that I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you, or that anyone would ever love me the way that you do. I was going to say that it amazes me how everyday, I wake up and love you more than I did the night before. And everyday I think it’s be impossible to love you and our daughter more than I do right now. I wanted to tell you that I want to wake up every morning and feel that for the rest of my life. I want the good, the bad, the ugly, I want it all. I want Korean film festivals and IHOP breakfasts and to talk to the moon. I want tubs of ice cream and overly sentimental flowers hanging from the wall. Most of all I wanted to say that I want to spend every day of my life making you happy. 

That speech still applies today. I still love you enough to ask you, but I don’t think you love me enough to say yes. 

It’s okay. It really is. I haven’t decided what to do yet, but if you do read this, just know that it’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay. I’m not the bitter, angry man I was at the Crystal Cove anymore. I changed again, and I hope you’re right. I hope we are twin flames and your soul will come looking for mine, and I hope it happens in this universe, not the infinite parallels that may or may not exist. I miss you and I want nothing more than for you to come back. Come home, Love, please come home.

-SR”

He stared at the notebook page, before tearing it off and folding it in half, placing it in his pocket for safekeeping. He went on his computer and bought the cheapest one-way ticket to Seattle that he could find. He needed to see you. He needed you to see this letter, see this ring. He needed to make this right.

The flight was a red eye, leaving at midnight, so he’d get to the Seattle field office by eight. He looked at the leather watch and saw that it was nearly nine. He decided had to finish, and he had to finish now, as he grabbed letter #14. 

PART 14

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Taglist!

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[merakiaes]

Blueberry Kiss - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader

Requested: No.

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: This was just a small idea I had a while ago. It’s not very eventful, I barely even know what the hell it is, and it’s probably really OOC, but I hope you like it. Let me know what you think xx Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes!

Wordcount: 2693

Summary: Five years after last seeing your childhood sweetheart, you return to Freeridge to find that it’s like you never left. 

The infamous Spooky, leader of Los Santos, one of the most powerful and most feared gangs in all of Los Angeles, had two soft spots; two things, two people, who he would go against all of his morals and beliefs in order to keep safe.

One of them was known to all; his brother, Cesar. It was a given that after raising him like he was his own son since he had been a mere teenager, himself, that he was soft for him.

Everyone in Freeridge knew this and never dared to touch a single strand of hair on his head because of it. 

Those who, against all odds, felt brave enough to involve him in whatever scrap they had with Spooky, ended up learning the hard way why he wasn’t to be touched.

But he had another soft spot, one only his longtime companions knew about.

You.

You had grown up across the street from him, the daughter of a single mother. You had known him long before his mother bailed on him and Cesar, long before Ray got locked up and way before he joined the Santos.

You were as close as peas in a pod as kids, the two of you getting into trouble around the neighborhood before the thought of joining his father’s gang even struck his mind.

And even when you reached the point of Ray’s arrest and Oscar being jumped into the Santos in his place, Spooky being born, you stuck by his side through it all.

You never put a label on your relationship. However, the second you reached your teenage years, your friendship took a more romantic and sexual turn.

You were inseparable for thirteen years, through your childhood, through high school, and through his first years as a Santo. Through all of the struggles and all of the blessings.

And then when you were both eighteen, your mother met some snob from Washington DC and dragged you across the country in order to marry him and build a life with him; forcing you to say goodbye to all of your friends, your old life, the Santos, and Oscar.

The first months without him were insufferable, painful to the point where you didn’t think you were going to get through the heartbreak alive.

You tried texting him and calling him, but he never picked up, and to a start, you thought it was because he was angry at you for leaving, or because he had already moved on.

But then your mother told you that he had gotten locked up and you knew him well enough to, in that moment, be able to conclude that he cut off the ties in his own gallant attempt to not hold you back.

You knew he had always seen himself as dead weight, someone holding you back from going out into the world and making something of yourself. Now that you finally got an opportunity, he wanted you to be able to live your new life to the fullest.

You didn’t agree with his mindset; you never had. But you respected it, and moved on, although… not really.

Now twenty-three years of age, you hadn’t seen nor talked to him or anyone from Freeridge in five whole years.

The sound of Black Fortune could be heard all the way down the street as you stepped out of your car, now having parked right outside the house you had spent countless of days and nights in back when you had still been living in Freeridge.

This was the first time being back since leaving, and everything looked identical to the way it had when you left, almost making it feel like you never did.

But with the nervous feeling lodging itself deep in the pit of your stomach, you were quickly back to the reality in which you had, in fact, left. However, you didn’t let this discourage you, letting your feet move you toward the fence to the side of the Diaz residence.

Judging by the loud music booming from the backyard, you knew that no one would be inside, so it would be no use to knock on the door.

Even back when you had still been living in Freeridge, Oscar hadn’t liked having people in the house whenever he threw a barbeque or a party of any kind. You knew much had changed since then, but you also knew that his excessive need to be in control wouldn’t have.

So you made your way around the back slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips when you walked past the familiar red Impala standing in the driveway.

It was late and the dark had fallen over an hour ago, so as you reached the backyard and caught sight of all the people standing around and mingling, you struggled to make out any familiar faces.

You let your eyes scan the crowd, looking for Oscar or Cesar, even if you knew if the latter most likely wouldn’t be there. You realized pretty quickly that the man you were searching for was nowhere to be seen and gave up your search for him.

But after another good minute of looking around, your eyes finally stopped on another figure, his tall, lanky body and the familiar Santos cross inked into his neck looking as familiar as ever.

Your face instantly pulled into a wide smile and you wasted no time in heading over, your smile turning into a teasing smirk at the sight of the large number of empty alcohol bottles on the table next to them.

“Well, I see you Santos’ alcoholic tendencies haven’t changed.” You spoke once you knew you were close enough for them to hear you over the loud music and watched with amusement as their heads instantly turned in your direction at the sound of your familiar voice.

“No way.” Sad Eyes was the first to speak – the only familiar face you had been able to make out from the other side of the lawn. “(Y/N)? Is that you, chica?”

You held your arms out and chuckled, nodding your head. “In the flesh.”

Now that you were closer to the group Sad Eyes was standing with, you could easily recognize the familiar faces of the Santos, all of whom were looking at you with shock.

An older Santo, Hector, whistled at the sight of you, pulling a hand over his chin. “Damn, you looking fine, mami.” He complimented.

While everyone else made some kind of sound in agreement, Sad Eyes face turned into one of playfulness. “Yeah, what happened?” He asked, and you instantly rolled your eyes.

“Ever the comedian, Guzman.” You chuckled, and he snickered back, opening his arms for you.

“Come here, niña.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, your feet automatically moving you a step closer and thereby walking you straight into your old friend’s open embrace.

Your arms wrapped around each other, his cheek leaning against the top of your head and yours against his chest. He hugged you tightly, rocking your bodies from side to side a few times before letting go.

The two of you shared another smile, but before anyone could say anything else, all of their eyes caught sight of something behind you.

“Here comes Spooky.” One of the Santos spoke and your heart instantly skipped a beat in your chest at the sound of his name.

The Santo slapped Hector’s chest. “Better dip.” He said, and they did just that, along with all the other Santos, as Oscar walked up to you where you were now standing alone with Sad Eyes.

“Los Santos taking in strays now?” He asked his best friend, and just the mere sound of his voice caused your chest to tighten.

It was a lot deeper than it was five years ago, and much rougher, most likely because of the number of cigarettes he without a doubt had smoked throughout the years judging by the smell of tobacco following him around.

While you remained silent, Oscar not even having spared you a glance yet, Sad Eyes chuckled from beside you, the much taller man reaching a hand out to squeeze your shoulder. 

“I’ll go get you a beer.” He told you and you smiled up at him.

“Thanks.” You replied, even though you knew he’d most likely not be back.

Sad Eyes walked away, leaving you alone, and only then did Oscar look down at you.

“Never thought I’d see your face around here again.” He commented with little to no emotion on his face. “How you been, (Y/N)?”

You smiled softly. “Oh, you know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Nothing like being dragged away from your life by your alcoholic, gold-digging mother to live on the other side of the continent for five years.”

Your words brought a chuckle from his lips. “I bet.” He nodded, his chuckling dying down into a simple smile, soft enough to match your own. “You’re looking good.”

Butterflies instantly filled your stomach. “So are you, Oscar.” You nodded, your expression turning a bit more serious. “How have you been? How are things at home?”

His smile faltered ever so slightly, his eyes turning harder. “Same as they were before you left.”

You nodded, biting on the inside of your lip lightly. “Your mom’s still gone?”

“Yeah.”

“Ray’s still in prison?”

“Yup.”

“So it’s just you and Cesar.”

“Mhm.” He nodded, raising the beer he was holding to his lips and taking a slow sip, his eyes leaving yours for the briefest of moments.

Your lips tugged upward with pity, but you quickly covered it up. “How is he?” You asked, turning the conversation away from the heavy stuff.

At the change of subject, he looked back down at you, giving you another shrug. “As good as you can be when you’re stuck in Freeridge. Good grades, friends, girlfriend.”

“No way.” You found yourself chuckling. “Lil’ Spooky getting action already. Who’s the poor girl falling victim to the Diaz charm this time around?”

He snickered, taking another sip of his beer. “Monse.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Monty’s daughter?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and you let out a low whistle.

“Damn. Didn’t see that coming.” You hugged your arms around your body as a chilly breeze pulled at your jacket, looking to the side for a moment, thinking. “What about you?” You asked then, turning your gaze back to him just in time to see his eyebrow raise.

“What about me?” He asked, although judging by the small, teasing smile on his lips, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

But still, you played along, asking in a drawling, playful voice. “Someone special in Spooky’s life?”

He chuckled at your tone, but it died down almost immediately, his head shaking in response to your question. “Nah, haven’t got time for that shit no more.” He replied, his voice low. “Have more important things to deal with.”

You raised your head in a nod and forced yourself to smile a tightlipped smile, ignoring the jab his words sent straight to your heart. “Right.”

Silence fell over the two of you. It was awkward, but not enough to make it uncomfortable. You were looking everywhere except at each other, eyes scanning over the crowd gathered in his backyard.

“How does it feel to be back?” He asked then, causing you to return your attention to him, finding him now looking down at you with an unreadable expression. He wasn’t smiling, but it wasn’t emotionless either. It was just… sincere.

“Weird. Especially being here with you.” You answered before you could stop yourself and he instantly gave you the nod.  

“Yeah? How come?”

You snorted, getting slightly uncomfortable as you were put on the spot. “Please, we didn’t go a day without each other back then.” You answered, glancing to the side briefly before looking back up at him. “You were that one person I always wanted to talk to. No matter what. And now we’ve been apart for five years. We might as well be strangers.”

He listened to you as you spoke intently, his head shaking the second you were done. “We’re not strangers.” He protested softly. “Never was.”

You have him a sad look. “A lot has happened since we last saw each other.” You told him and he nodded.

“I know. But nothing’s changed.”

You stared deeply into each other’s eyes, everything seeming to slow down around you. Before you knew it, and almost as if your bodies were moving on autopilot, you had both taken a step closer to each other.

Oscar’s free hand came up to touch your upper arm gingerly, while one of yours moved up to rest on top of his. You remained like this for a good few seconds, just searching each other’s faces for any indication that the other was against what was about to happen.

But when neither of you could find any indication of the sort, you slowly brought your other hand up to his cheek, both of you moving your faces to close the remaining gap between you to connect your lips in the first kiss in five years.

The first time you fall in love, it changes you forever and no matter how hard you try, that feeling just never goes away. You realized this now when, even after all these years, the feeling of his lips on yours sent a hot jolt of sparkling electricity through your entire body.

You pressed your lips harder against his, both of you taking another step closer to the other and pulling at each other’s bodies desperately.

Your breathing became heavy in no time and your heart thumped against the inside of your chest violently.

While the hand he had on your arm remained there, rubbing slow circles over the fabric of your jacket with his thumb, the hand that was holding the beer came to rest on the curve of your hip.

Meanwhile, your hands moved up to the back of his head, pulling him even closer to you as you got completely lost in the kiss.

After what seemed like eternity but at the same time barely even a second, you pulled apart for air, both of your chests heaving up and down breathlessly and your foreheads pressed together.

Your eyes met again, and breathlessly, you confessed. “I thought you’d forgotten about me by now.”

Oscar instantly shook his head against yours, blinking slightly. “No man forgets a good woman like you.” He mumbled quietly, softly. “They just become haunted by the realization that you’re not replaceable. That there’s not anyone who can live up to the feelings you stirred up in me.”

Your chest and stomach fluttered with butterflies at his words, an intense wave of peacefulness and happiness coming over you.

“Well, I know for a fact that one thing hasn’t changed.” You whispered back, the corners of your lips tugging slightly.

“What’s that?” He asked, and only then did you fully smile.

“You’re just as smart now as you were when I left you.”

A smug smirk came across his features, his head nodding against yours. “And you still use the same lipgloss.” He pointed out and you raised an eyebrow.

“How can you tell?” You asked, slightly shocked but also amused.

He brushed his lips against yours, mumbling against them. “Still tastes the same.” He pressed his to yours fully in a second kiss, short but sweet. Once you came back apart, you watched as his tongue darted out from between his lips, tasting them.

“Blueberry.” He mused, smirking down at you. “Nothing that tastes better.”

You chuckled, caressing the nape of his neck with your fingers. “I guess things really haven’t changed, huh?” You asked and watched as his eyebrows rose in amusement.

“I told you, mami.”  He said.

You chuckled, nodding your head. “That you did.” You confirmed, and then pulled him back in for another, sweet, blueberry kiss.

All these years, you had convinced yourself that you were over him and yet now, in this very moment, you realized you probably never were, and that a part of you would always be waiting for him whenever you were apart.