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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 month ago

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Life Cycles

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

*banging pots and pans together* WAKE UP ASSHOLES ETHAN WINTERS IS BACK IN ALL HIS MOLDED GLORY AND YES WE ARE HERE FOR IT TO BE OUR PROBLEMS (special shout out to @justanormiewhoreads and @gigi-the-bear because yes this is sort of for you two specifically ^-^)

Eveline is back because i love her and she deserves to be

Chris Leon Rose and Ethan are about to become the world's most awkward family of BOWs and anti-BOW operatives and I'm about to make that your problem

(mia's not in this one sorry but she'll have her time too i promise)

((also for further down the pipeline i need you all to start getting excited about the Winters roasting the absolute SHIT out of Resident Edgelord Albert Wesker bc I had this image of Rose calling him a Matrix reject to his face and couldn't stop laughing for about an hour so i need you guys to laugh with me))

Warnings: disarming (hah) bc it's ethan but also bc it's ethan he's fine 2 seconds later

Pairings: implied/hinted winterfield

Word Count: 10,170

The first time he talks to Eveline, really actually talks, is right after he 'dies' from his 'injuries' from the battle with Miranda. Yes, the quotes are necessary, because if he doesn't put them there, he does dangerous things like thinking he's alive and has a body that can get up and go find his daughter and give her a big, huge, actual hug because he's sad, goddammit, that he can't do that because he's not alive.

Anyway. Miranda. 'Dying.' Rose being the best thing in the whole world and a fucking badass and then still being his baby girl, holding his hand to her cheek as the world turned to glowing white motes of light around them.

He remembers being in pain, drained in the way that came from trying to do too much on too little that he's gotten used to after Dulvey. He remembers being happy that he got to see his daughter, even if only for a little bit, and that he could tell her how sorry he was, how much he loved her, how proud she makes him every single day. He remembers watching her fade away, feeling the warmth of her touch grow cold, and closing his eyes. Who knew, if Miranda could die some final death in here, maybe he could too.

Alas, if there was one thing he could count on when the world went to shit, it was that the universe was determined that he wouldn't stay dead. He has a vague memory of some priest telling him that being able to wake up after an awful night was God's way of telling you He loved you and a much less vague memory of thinking that if God really did love him, he'd better not pull that shit anymore. But Ethan's religious days were behind him—quite a long way behind him—and the only God he believes in now doesn't exist.

He drags himself up off the cold, flat plains, grimacing at the slime congealing on his palms. There are not enough towels in this hellscape to make it leave completely, or any towels at all, so he wipes them on his pants as best he can and looks around. He's actually managed to stay manifested, which is not something he'd expected, so maybe there's something worth exploring down here. He picks a direction and starts to walk. Fog roils around him and he suppresses a shudder. Black mold runs along the ground in rivulets like some great beast bleeding out over the plains and he does his best to stick to the drier parts, picking his way along the ground until he comes to a wider river. A quick glance up and down shows not much in the way of a bridge or even a drier spot, and testing his luck with the depth doesn't sound like the smartest idea.

He's about to turn around and try the other direction when he hears a quiet sound coming from just out of sight to his left. He pauses, tilting his head. No, that's—that's definitely someone crying.

His first thought is that Rose got stuck. Maybe she was on her way back to the real world and something went wrong. Maybe he fucked up by giving her his power and tied her here somehow. But even as he starts toward her—fatherly instincts have his body moving before he registers it—he knows that's not true. Rose doesn't sound like that when she cries. He knows it.

But then who else could it be?

The answer comes to him too slowly and too quickly all at once. Eveline. That's Eveline crying. It's the same he heard from up in that recreation of the Beneviento House, after she'd thrown her tantrum at Rose and worn herself out, collapsing on her knees and sobbing that no one loved her. Something in his chest tugs at that—no child, no matter who they were, should ever feel uncertain about being loved.

Granted, this child was a genetically engineered bioweapon that ruined innocent lives and made his life a living hell, but still. Ethan likes to think that he's retained enough of his own sense of self to know that he still believes in silly little things like compassion.

He keeps walking along the riverbank, trying to follow the sound, but it keeps being thrown about in the fog. One second it sounds like it's coming from vaguely in front of him, the next it's behind him, then across the river, then right behind him, then in front of him again. Still, there's a tug in his gut as he keeps moving forward, some invisible tether leading him right to Eveline. He pushes the fear about that particular revelation aside in favor of crying child, find the crying child.

Bleeding heart, get him killed, too soft, too sensitive, blah, blah, blah. He died in 2017, that isn't exactly sticking. He'll take his bleeding heart, thanks.

It's almost anticlimactic when he finds her. Sure enough, she's huddled in a ball on the edge of the river, her waders pulled high up her legs, her hands tangled in her filthy skirts. He stops a good distance away—just because he cares doesn't mean he's not wary, after all—and crouches slightly.

"Eveline?"

Her head whips around. She stares at him with wide eyes, mouth open slightly. He holds out a hand.

"I'm not going to—'

"Back off!"

He winces when a wave of her telekenetic power slams into him, but it's weaker than he remembers. He holds his ground, hand still raised. "I'm not here to hurt you, Eveline."

"Leave me alone! Get away from me!" She grabs a handful of the mold and throws it at him, her power making it splatter across his face. "I hate you!"

Now, the smart thing to do would be to leave. Eveline is telling him in no uncertain terms that she wants to be left alone. He should not be confronting a bioweapon this powerful like this. Everyone he knows, he's sure, Chris, Mia, the rest of Chris's soldiers, hell, even Rose, they would tell him to leave.

But the smart thing to do would also not be to go get his wife in a tiny town in Louisiana off one email after she'd been presumed dead for three years, and that ship sailed years ago. Literally.

So, Ethan Winters does what he does best, and sets his jaw. "I'm not gonna leave you, Eveline."

To his—and her—surprise, she hesitates before she throws the next bit of mold. He stays there, crouched on the ground, just watching her. Her eyes narrow.

"Why? What do you want?"

"You were crying."

"Shut up!" She throws it again, but it's even weaker. "That doesn't matter! You're so dumb, can't you just leave me alone?"

"Why were you crying?"

"Stupid Rose ruined everything! She came in here and made everything worse and now it's all ruined!"

He bites back the instinctive don't call my daughter stupid. "What did she ruin?"

"Everything!"

"The house? The mold? Miranda? I don't understand."

"You're so dumb. You didn't know you were dead, or that you were made of mold. Of course you don't understand."

"Then help me understand." He takes a seat on the cold, damp ground as Eveline eyes him trepidatiously. "What did she ruin, Eveline?"

She glares at him for another few seconds before looking away, eyes on the river of black mold. "She wasn't supposed to come here. I was supposed to go out there."

Cold chills shoot down Ethan's spine. "You…you want to go back?"

"Obviously. It sucks here. I don't want to be trapped here for the rest of my life. I want to go back out there. Miranda always thought she was so smart, that she could just use the mold to make her stupid daughter come back but she was stupid too. That's not how it works. She's not mold, she can't make it do anything."

"And you can?"

Eveline glares at him again. "I'm the smart one. I'm the strong one. I can do anything! My powers are so much better than Rose's. All she can do is shoot and dodge. I can make things just by thinking about them, I can control the mold more than Miranda and Rose ever could. Obviously I can do it better."

Okay. This was fine. This was totally fine. This is a perfectly normal thing to say, there was no reason for him to panic, this is fine.

"…so what did Rose ruin?"

Eveline doesn't say anything. Instead, she stands up and disappears into the ground. Ethan sighs, burying his face in his hands. Great. He's trapped here with the remnant of the child bioweapon responsible for his death and the rest of his misery. And he's just learned she wants to go back.

This is fine.

***

"We don't know what we're going to find," Chris barks as the rest of the team lines up next to the already whirring chopper, "so be prepared for anything. We start at the north end of the village, then work our way—"

"Chris," Leon interrupts, nodding to something over his shoulder. He turns.

Rosemary Winters is striding towards them across the runway. Several agents are staring at her and Chris swallows heavily. She looks pissed. He can't really blame her.

"Rose—"

"I'll fucking break your nose, Redfield." She doesn't even break stride as she marches right past him and onto the chopper. The rest of the squad just moves out of her way.

He doesn't blame them either.

Leon slaps him on the shoulder as they follow her in, strapping in for takeoff. With only a moment's hesitation, he sits right next to her, Leon on her other side. She's staring straight ahead, still glaring, but her fingers are trembling ever so slightly. As soon as they're in the air and he's pretty sure no one except Leon will notice, he takes her hand in his and holds it tight.

If she notices his fingers trembling too, she doesn't say anything.

***

Eveline isn't too fond of it when he figures out he can talk to Rose the same way he could when she was in the upper stratum. It takes a lot of focus. So much so that when he comes out of talking to Rose about her new room decorations—really, he's half convinced if he could harness the outrage at the thought of his daughter being in basically a cell for most of her life, he'd be out of here in no time—he actually has to take a second to register that his hand is missing again.

Then he realizes that his hand is missing again and screams.

"Oh, shut up," comes a grumble to his right and his severed hand hits him in the face, "don't be such a big baby."

He puts his hand back on quickly—and doesn't think about the fact that he can just do that—and glares at Eveline, who doesn't look the least bit repentant. She crosses her arms, tapping her foot. "Why did you do that?"

"You weren't listening to me. I had to get your attention."

"So you cut off my hand?"

She shrugs. "You didn't even feel it and it's not like it matters here. You're fine, see?"

"That's not the point! Don't just cut my hand off!"

"How else am I supposed to get your attention when you're doing your stupid glassy-eyed staring thing?"

"Wait for me to be done? Does that sound reasonable to you?" Eveline just scowls and he sighs. "What did you want?"

She scuffs the toe of her boot along the moldy ground. "You promised to go on a walk with me."

That's right—they'd started going on walks together. Once they established that trying to kill each other wouldn't do anything—they were already both dead and any damage Eveline did to Ethan he'd just heal anyway—they'd started just…walking around. No talking necessary, no actual sense of companionship, but there was only so much to do in the mold flatlands, so…walking it was.

"And you couldn't wait until I was done?"

Eveline's face darkens. "You promised we'd go soon. Then you started doing the dumb staring thing—"

"That 'dumb staring thing' is me talking to my daughter."

"—exactly, the dumb staring thing, and when you do that, you go away for a long time and you promised we'd go soon." She nods her head like she's won a great debate. "So. Now we can go."

He sighs, looking down at his hand. It still moves as good as it ever did, and it's not like he can die of blood loss in here, so he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Next time, just tug on my sleeve or something? Unless that didn't work?"

"I tried that. I tried shouting at you too. You didn't react to anything until I cut off your hand, but I don't think that really worked either. Maybe I should try—"

"Maybe we should figure out a way for you to get my attention without hurting me," he interrupts as they start walking along the river. She scoffs.

"Nothing hurts in here. They're not real bodies. They're just mold."

"I was 'just mold' for years and let me tell you, things definitely still hurt."

"But you were out there—" Eveline waves a hand at the sky— "that's different. That doesn't count."

He ignores that for now. "Things still hurt in here too, Eveline."

"No, they don't." He frowns, before reaching out a hand. She glares at it as it moves closer. "What are you doing?"

"Can I touch you?"

"No. Gross. Why?"

"I want to know if you can feel things."

"Don't be an idiot, of course I can feel things." He stops walking. Eveline huffs and stamps her foot again. "Why are you being extra stupid today?"

"Humor me. Sometimes I have days where I need to be extra stupid. If you help me, I'll stop needing to be extra stupid faster."

"Fine." She stomps back over to him. "What do you want to do, just touch me?"

"Close your eyes."

"Why, so you can stab me?"

"What? No, why would I do that? I think between the two of us, you're the stabbier one."

"You already stabbed me! Then you killed me!"

Oh. Oh, yeah, he…he did do that, didn't he? Granted, it was with a toxin and not a knife, but stabbing most definitely did happen and he was the one that did it.

Eveline scoffs again. "What, don't tell me you forgot how you killed me."

"I…I'm not going to stab you. I want to see if you can tell when I'm touching you, that's all."

"Gross."

"Just hold your hand out, okay?" He holds his out to as a peace offering. "Hold my hand."

"This is stupid." But she does it. "There, I'm holding your hand. I can tell I'm holding your hand. Are you happy now? Can you stop being stupid?"

"Now leave your hand there and close your eyes." She grumbles under her breath as he lets go but keeps her hand there and closes her eyes. "Okay. You can open them again when you feel me grab your hand, okay?"

"I'm not an idiot, I get it."

"Okay, okay."

He waits for a few seconds, just to see if she'll actually listen to him or if she's just going to call him stupid and keep going on their walk. Granted, he's not exactly sure why he's doing this either. He never was the scientist between them, but he does have a bit too much curiosity for his own good. Slowly, he reaches out and takes Eveline's hand in his.

She doesn't move. Doesn't open her eyes.

Her hand is small. Too small. Her fingers are cold, a little sticky, but not from the mold. He has the impulse to rub his thumb along her knuckles to warm her up, so he does. Back and forth, back and forth. He keeps waiting for her eyes to open.

They don't.

Something terribly, terribly sad settles in his chest and for the first time since arriving here, he feels a little bit cold.

"Are you gonna get on with it already?" She shifts her weight. "I'm getting bored."

"Eveline," he says, far too gently.

"What?" She cracks one eye open and sees his hand in hers, his thumb rubbing across her knuckles. Her eyes go wide, her breath comes out in a big rush, and then she rips her hand away from him. "Don't do that again!"

His arm stays outstretched, even as she turns away from him, hunching her shoulders. She takes several deep breaths, each a little shakier than the last.

"I don't want to walk with you today," she declares, and disappears.

His hand tingles with the memory of her cold little fingers in his, aching tenderly.

***

They land on a cliff face high above the wreckage of the village. Leon winces at the bite of the cold air, tugging his jacket closer to himself as Chris barks orders to the rest of the squad. They fan out and start moving. Working with Chris is as seamless as ever, except that there's an unarmed teenager standing by the helicopter still.

"Rose, on me."

"Coming." She trots over and slips in behind them. He moves closer as Chris edges slightly in front. "Sorry. Got distracted."

"Stay focused. This isn't a drill."

"I know."

He sees Chris's hands tense slightly and glances at Rose. He drops back a little more to keep her in between them. She notices and her mouth twitches but she doesn't say anything. They move through the forest, down a snowy slope, into a thicker grove of trees.

"Any idea where we might need to look?"

"Sensors picked up something near the detonation site, not far off from where the Megamycete used to be. Chances are it's nothing, but if—"

"Look out!"

Leon's gun aims at the tree line as a massive cracking sound rips through the air. If Rose had yanked Chris back half a second later, he'd be at the bottom of the gorge that their cliff just collapsed into. They all stand there, panting heavily, until their comms start chirping. Everyone's alright, no one got caught or was injured.

"We'll need to head back. Further along the mountain there's a safer way down."

"No." Rose stares off into the trees for a second. "There's an old bridge over here that will take us to the outskirts of the castle."

"How do you know?"

"The mold's everywhere in the ground here. I can…I can feel it."

Well, that's a great start to anything if you ask Leon. Chris is clearly working through the same issue before he sighs, pats her gently on the shoulder, and motions for her to stay behind him. She does, but there's a furrow in her brow that wasn't there before.

"Hey," he calls quietly, and she turns to him, "stay focused, remember? Need you to help me haul Redfield back from anymore collapsing cliffs."

"I heard that."

***

Eveline doesn't talk to him for—well, he'd say for a few days but time's weird here. It bothers him more than it should. He tries to find her, but she wasn't lying when she said she understood the mold way better than he did, and he might as well be wandering around with a blindfold and earplugs for all the success he has.

Then he has a fight with Rose and he spends hours silently pleading for her to look and see how sorry he is. It takes everything in him to keep those words there, to keep himself aware enough to be there. Everything narrows down to the dusty floorboards, the sound of Rose sobbing, the thump-thump of her heartbeat. Nothing else in the world matters, could matter, nothing except for the part of him he's pushing through the mold to write out i'm sorry rose.

Rose forgives him. He forgives her. Of course he does, she's his daughter. She asks him to stay until she falls asleep and he does, glowing from the floor until her heart rate slows and he finally, finally sinks back into the mold flatlands.

And blinks, because Eveline is sitting there, holding his hand.

"He—"

"You were gone a long time," she says bluntly, "I thought you were really dead."

He swallows. His throat is dry. Is he lying down? "I'm back now."

Her mouth twists. She looks down at their hands. Her fingers are clumsily clutching his, hers too-white against his slimy, slightly moldy ones. The chill still surprises him but he swallows it—with difficultly.

"Thank you for not cutting my hand off."

"I didn't know it hurt you."

"Can—can you feel this?" He squeezes her fingers. "Does that hurt?"

"No, it doesn't hurt." Her mouth twists again. "I know I'm holding your hand, but it—it's like I remember it."

He pushes himself to an elbow, wincing at the strain in his body. He really overdid it this time, not that he's surprised. "You feel cold to me."

"I do?"

"Like a little ice cube."

"I remember being cold," she says, and now she actually sounds like a child, reminiscing about something, "the ship was really cold. The house—the house was nice and warm, though."

"The Baker House?"

"Yeah. D—Jack brought me upstairs and tucked me into bed. It was so soft."

He rubs his thumb over her knuckles before the thinks better of it. Her fingers twitch but she doesn't pull away. He pushes himself up until he's sitting next to her, still holding her hand. "Romania was cold. Really cold. I was worried I was gonna get frostbite."

"The mold wouldn't have let you. You would've just healed from it."

"Oh."

"It's really good at staying in shapes. That's why Miranda was so powerful here and why she could make copies of Rose and the Duke and the dolls."

"And why you and I are here?"

Eveline shifts, bringing her knees up to her chest. "We're—we're different. Rose is different too. They made me from the mold, just like she was made from the mold."

"Uh—" Is he going to have to explain to Eveline how babies are made?

"You were mold already when you made her, stupid."

"But then what does that make me? I wasn't made from the mold, not originally."

Eveline's face pinches, but she doesn't look mad. She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back out of reflex. "You're…complicated."

He can't help but chuckle. "I think that's the first time anyone's ever called me complicated."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've always been pretty boring. I had a decent childhood, a boring job…I wasn't anything special, just a simple, boring person."

"You're not boring."

"Hey," he says, lightly bumping her shoulder with his elbow, "I think that was almost a compliment."

"Shut up. You're boring sometimes."

He laughs again. They're still holding hands. The black river gurgles next to them. After a while, Eveline looks up at him again. "What?"

"You weren't supposed to come back."

"In Dulvey?"

She nods. "Jack killed you and you were supposed to come back to life, but you weren't supposed to come back."

That's…not what he was expecting to hear. "I thought you brought me there so Mia and I could be your parents. Why do that just to have Jack kill me?"

Her face twists up again and before she can pull away, he grabs her other hand. She flinches a little but settles, refusing to look at him. Her jaw clenches.

"She wanted you," she spits out, "I thought—I thought—never mind. This is stupid."

"It's not stupid, Eveline. If it matters to you—"

"It doesn't!" She rips her hands away and stands up. "It doesn't matter anymore, all of them are gone. You shouldn't spend so much time staring like that, you'll get hurt and then I'll have no one to walk with me. We're walking soon."

She's gone before he can say another word. He sighs, wincing as he gets to his feet. Christ, he feels like he's gone ten rounds with Chris on a bad day, and then some. Maybe he did overdo it this time—okay, okay, he definitely did, but Rose was upset. What was he supposed to do, leave? Not likely.

Okay. So. Rose and Eveline, the same when it comes to the mold. Sort of. On some level. Him, not the same. Complicated. Not supposed to be him, whatever that meant. Something to do with Mia. Doesn't everything at this point come back to that? Not for the first time, he wonders what his life would be like if he hadn't married Mia, and then quickly decides not to pursue that train of thought. Wouldn't lead anywhere good.

Almost unconsciously, he turns to look at the black river, watching it ooze its way along the flat, icy, muddy, moldy ground. He kicks a clump of it over. It sticks to his boot. The faint smell of rotting plants meets his nose. He wonders if that's just a memory from Louisiana, or if it's actually here. If Eveline couldn't feel things, it made sense that maybe he didn't have all of his senses either.

Speaking of complicated…he has no clue when he started to care about Eveline, and he doesn't really know what to do with this knowledge now that he has it. Eveline is a child, yes, but still a bioweapon, still unrepentant about what she did, still would very much ruin his life if she had the chance, probably. But they're both stuck here, and from the looks of it, they're not really going anywhere anytime soon.

And she had…changed.

He looks down at his hand. How long had she been holding it before he came back here? Had she debated cutting it off instead? And if she did think he was really dead, like she said, why was she still sitting there, holding his hand?

The way she talked about the warmth of the Baker house, the way she almost called Jack 'Dad,' the way she talked about being tucked into bed…he has a sudden flash of memory of being tormented in the Beneviento House, chased by the giant baby monster, and nearly breaking down all over the Duke as soon as he was out of there. Because yeah, that thing had been absolutely terrifying, but the worst part was that it was so sad. It reached into some deep part of him, the part that was screaming over carrying his daughter around in flasks, the part the was mourning his wife—or so he thought—and he had the equally terrifying urge to try and comfort it. It was a near thing, not sobbing in front of the Duke, because it seemed so lonely and so scared and so, so sad, and Ethan knew what that felt like.

He looks off toward the river again and pats his pockets. When he goes to meet Eveline for their walk, he holds out a pair of gloves. She eyes them like they're a dead animal.

"What are those for?"

"Your hands. If you get cold."

"I can't feel it, dummy," even as she takes them. She pulls them on and grumbles: "they don't even fit right."

"You don't have to wear them."

She glares at him like he's an idiot and turns on her heel, beginning to walk along the river. He follows, easily catching up. They walk in silence for a while. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches her playing with the empty parts of the too-big fingers. He says nothing about it.

"I'm keeping these," she announces when they've walked far enough that day, "you aren't getting them back."

"You're welcome."

"Shut up," but it's said a little quieter than usual.

***

The ground feels like it's tingling under her boots. She's trying to focus, she really is, but it's hard when it feels like she's walking on a constantly vibrating…thing. Every now and then she has to give herself a shake before Chris or Leon can call her out on it, but she's pretty sure they're noticing anyway.

"Hey," Leon says quietly when Chris responds to someone over comms, "you doing okay?"

"I'm fine. Just…feels weird."

"What does?"

"The ground. It's like it's humming or something."

"Well, if it sounds like it's gonna bust out old show tunes, you give us a heads-up, deal?"

She huffs a laugh. "Not like that. Like it's—okay, you know how those old video game controllers would like, rumble when you got close to stuff in-game?"

"Jeez, kid, you're making me feel like I'm ancient over here."

"We are ancient," Chris grunts, "at least in this game. What about them, Rose?"

"It sort of feels like it's trying to…guide me somewhere."

Both of them stop, turning to look at her. She rolls her eyes.

"Not in a bad way, it doesn't feel like Miranda or anything is doing it on purpose. But it's a living thing, it's…living. It's reacting."

They exchange another one of those glances. "You let us know if it changes in any way, okay?"

"Sure."

"Come on. Umber Eyes says there's a building up ahead where we can rest for a minute."

***

Something weird is happening, and for Ethan, that's saying something. He's started…feeling things. Not like how he and Rose can share feelings if he's talking to her, but he's able to…feel things. It takes him less time than he'd care to admit to bring it up with Eveline.

"You're the main Host now, so it makes sense."

He blinks. And blinks again. "I'm the what?"

She rolls her eyes, looking up from where she's fiddling with the gloves—he tries not to be too proud at how much she likes them. "You're the mold's last body, or last hope of a body. Your thing is being able to heal yourself from pretty much anything, and you weren't actually super destroyed when you set the bomb off. So you're the main Host."

"But I'm…dead."

"Yeah, and? The Black God doesn't care."

"The black what?"

"God, you are stupid. Don't you pay attention?"

"I've had other things to worry about, okay?"

"Yeah, like Rose." She's caught on to the fact that he doesn't like it when she refers to Rose as his 'stupid daughter,' but that doesn't mean she suddenly likes her. "The Black God. The thing that's in charge. The fungal root that ate the bodies of the people in the village. It wants to live, obviously, but it's weak now because you and Rose killed Miranda so well, so now it's trying to get out."

"Through…me?" Eveline shrugs. "Wait, wait, but does that mean that it could steal my body? Is this what you meant by saying I wasn't supposed to come back?"

"I don't know everything," she snaps, "I just know more than you. I don't know what it wants, it's not like I can ask it. I can just feel it moving. Is that what you're feeling?"

"Not really. It's more—it's more like I can feel a bunch of things moving. Like there are bugs crawling on me but they don't feel like bugs."

Eveline goes quiet for a moment, staring off into space. One of the gloves falls into her lap with a low smacking sound.

"What is it?"

"Bugs," she says under her breath, "she liked the bugs."

Ah. Right. Marguerite Baker's 'gift' from Eveline, also known as why Ethan has a personal relationship with many pesticides now. He stays quiet, though, watching Eveline think. After a while, he gently prompts her: "did you choose what gifts to give them?"

Eveline shrugs. "They sort of…took it for themselves."

"How do you mean?"

"The mold is weird. It wants you but it wants you to want it too, so it…tries to give you want you want. Sort of. Jack got to be strong to protect his family."

"Why did Marguerite get bugs, then?"

"I don't know. I don't know what she wanted. Just like I don't know what Rose wants." She sneaks a glance up at him. "Or what you want."

Ethan falls quiet. He thinks about Louisiana, about finding Mia, about losing her all over again in Romania, about Rose, about dying again and again and again. He looks down at Eveline, still watching him expectantly.

"I wanted to live," he says, as quiet as the black river.

"…oh." After a moment, she shuffles close enough to press against his side. "That's not a stupid thing to want."

"I'm glad you think so."

She's cold, pressed up against him. She's still playing with the gloves. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, looking at the river. They're sitting on one of the less moldy parts of the bank, watching the flow of it through the fog. It's almost warm in the weird, grey, not-sunlight.

"What did you mean, when you said they felt like bugs but not bugs?"

"Bugs skitter. These sort of feel like they're…walking."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Like—like people walking?"

"Sometimes. Normally not, though. They're too small."

"But like—do you feel like the ground?"

"Huh?"

"The ground. Like if a bunch of things were walking on you at once, and you could feel all of them."

He thinks. Then he thinks some more. Then he nudges her shoulder with his. "Look at you, smarty-pants."

"I told you I was smart," she preens, and he laughs and she grins. Then he holds out his hand, palm up, and she stops smiling. "What?"

"Wanna help me figure out what's going on with me?"

"Really?"

He shrugs. "Unless you just wanna go on walks forever."

She looks at the river, then at his hand. She drops one of the gloves into her lap and reaches back. Her hand is still cold, but she squeezes. "What should we do first?"

"Well," he sighs as he looks around, "we should probably figure out a bit more about where exactly we are. I know we can get to different strata, and we can manifest stuff if we're strong enough, but how far does that go? Can we just…make anything? Is there anyone else here?"

"You have so many questions," she accuses, "how 'm I supposed to know?"

"Our questions now. We're in this together."

Eveline looks at him for a long second before she's yanking him up and away from the river. He gives a small shout of surprise when his arm is nearly torn out of his socket, but he follows her until they reach a flatter part of the plains and she drops it.

"Make something."

"What?"

"Make something." She folds her arms. "Go on. You need to get a better grasp of how the mold works? Make something with it."

You're as bad as Chris, he thinks but doesn't say, and closes his eyes. Concentrates. Pictures something in his hands and when he opens them, there's Rose's little stuffed monkey, right there in front of him. For a moment it's almost like he's in their house, in Romania, he's holding Rose in one arm and playing with the monkey in the other—

"Why'd you make that?"

Eveline's voice jolts him from his reverie. He sighs, cradling the little plush thing in his hands. "It's the thing I think about the most."

"The monkey? Or Rose?"

"Both, I guess. This was…" he has to pause to swallow, "this was the last moment where I thought everything was gonna be okay. Something was wrong with Mia, Rose was—she'd just read this creepy story, and all I wanted to do was hold onto Rose and—"

He sighs.

"No use thinking about that now, I suppose," he says quietly and the monkey fades from view right before his eyes. "Sorry. I'll, uh, I'll make something else."

Eveline's suspiciously quiet. She doesn't even call him stupid. She just kicks some of the frozen mud and waits. He pauses, brow furrowing, before deciding this is something he can ask her about later. He strays away from the guns, the first aid bottles, the white sage, trying for something else, something from him, something that might help him understand the mold better…

…and when he opens his eyes, he's holding a tiny notebook.

"What's that for?"

"When I was a kid, my mom used to get me little notebooks and drawing pads for me to keep in my pockets. Apparently, I had a problem with daydreaming and stuff, so she thought that if I had a place to put all of them, they wouldn't stay in my head so much and I could…I dunno, focus or whatever." He snorts. "I remember I used to write down stories or draw made-up creatures and refuse to show them to anyone."

"Like having a diary?"

"Sort of." He flips it over and to his surprise, there's his writing. His horrible, scratchy, imperfect writing, but this isn't a story he would've written when he was that young. No, this is…this is…

Eveline edges closer. "What's wrong? You look upset."

"It's…it's what I would've done," he mumbles, eyes still transfixed by the story on the too-small pages, "when I was upset, I'd write…I'd write how I wish it would've gone. This is—it's the story I would've told myself if this happened to me when I was a kid."

"I told you," she says, "it wants you to want it, so it tries to give you what it thinks you want. Do…do you want that story?"

There's a hesitance in her voice that makes him look up. She's not meeting his gaze anymore. He looks back at the pages. "I don't think so."

"Really? Isn't it better than what actually happened?"

"Yeah, but it's not—it's not me."

"What do you mean, it's not you? Aren't you the simple boring guy?"

"Hey," he says, lightly shoving her. She barely reacts. "It's—oh, god, how do I put this? That story would be nice, yeah, but it'd get…me. This version of me from my messed-up story. The version of me that had all the awful stuff happen to me."

"So?"

"So, I wouldn't know what to do. I need to—god, I didn't think I'd ever talk about my marriage problems with you of all people, but I needed to talk about Louisiana." Is he having second thoughts about spilling this information to Eveline? Maybe, but that's a problem for later him. "Mia wanted to pretend like it never happened, and I couldn't do that. So if I got—if I were in that story, where it didn't happen there, I might—I think it'd make me crazy."

He looks down at the notebook and concentrates. After a moment, the pages shimmer and go blank. He holds it up for her to see.

"There, that's better."

"I guess."

He frowns at her sudden lack of enthusiasm, putting the notebook in his pocket—it fits perfectly. "Your turn."

"Me?"

"Yeah. You make something."

"I'm not the one who needs to practice," she says mulishly.

"So show me how it's done."

She glares at the ground—at the ground, not even at him, they've made more progress than he thought—before she holds out her hand and a pencil appears. She thrusts it at him without looking up. "You forgot to make something to write with."

"Thank you."

"Shut up."

"Most people just say 'you're welcome,' but I get what you mean." He laughs when she glares at him. "What else should I be practicing?"

***

They reach the building and duck inside. Chris checks his tablet and the team reports in: nothing yet. Leon's doing the least subtle once-over of Rose he's ever seen the man do and Rose holds out her arms and turns around until he shakes his head with a huff. Chris glances outside and catches sight of what used to be a lycan's arm crushed under a mountain of rubble.

"We need to keep moving."

They get back outside and down into the remnants of a street before Rose suddenly stops.

"Rose? You okay?"

"Rose," Leon calls, shaking her shoulder, "Rose!"

"There's someone over there," she whispers, and both of them immediately close ranks, guns at the ready.

"Where?"

"Up around the corner. I—I don't know what they're doing here."

"Stay behind me, stay quiet."

Out of all the things he was expecting, the truly massive man sitting in the back of a wagon was not one of them.

"Ah, there you are," he says, clapping his hands as though they're old friends coming to dinner, "I was beginning to think you'd lost your way."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Please, call me the Duke."

***

"You're crying."

Ethan blinks. He's been with Rose and Chris again—god, he actually talked to Chris, and Rose, and he's overdone it, he's tired, so tired, but Eveline is sitting next to him—he's lying down, when did he lie down again?—and he's crying?

He swipes at his face with the hand that she's not holding and it comes away wet. "Oh. Huh. Look at that."

His voice is all shaky too. Eveline just keeps squeezing his hand every few seconds, the gesture unpracticed and uncertain, but terribly endearing. He lets out another shuddering breath and makes himself sit up. She grabs onto his shoulder with her other hand.

"Thanks."

"What happened? Is Rose—are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Rose is fine too. She, um…" He puts a hand to his head to try and dull the pain. "Something upsetting happened to her and it went…it went really badly."

"Was she hurt?"

"Sort of. There was this guy that was supposed to help train her and he just ended up making a huge mess…he made Rose really upset and then everyone overreacted—"

"'Cause Rose is a bioweapon."

"…yeah." He decides to leave out the part where the thing that made Rose really angry was the implication that it was Chris's fault he was dead. "I wanted to tell her that it was gonna be okay."

"But she is a bioweapon," Eveline says, and it says something that she's not spitting it or holding it smugly over his head, "she's not…no one's going to like her."

"Chris likes her. The rest of his team like her."

"Well, yeah, but they have to."

He frowns. "They don't have to. I mean—I think they have to 'cause I'm biased, but there's nothing that says they have to like her."

"But you gave Rose to Chris. That means he has to like her."

"I certainly hoped he would—he seemed to like her enough already whenever he came over, but there wasn't—Chris Redfield is a lot of things, but he's stubbornly loyal." He sighs. "I may have…taken advantage of that."

"So he does have to like her."

Thank god she didn't ask more about that, because he has no idea what the fuck he'd say to it. "He was obligated to take care of her, but I think he likes her outside of that too."

"But you don't know."

"I'm pretty sure. Like, 95% sure."

Eveline goes quiet while he focuses on getting himself back in this version of his body. It takes less time than he expects, mainly because he hasn't done this since that first night where he really overdid it, but also because he and Eveline have been practicing more. The pain fades almost immediately but the fatigue sticks around. Ah, well, can't win them all. He settles back more comfortably, bringing Eveline's hand down by his knee, watching the black river.

"Why were you crying?"

"Because I miss them."

"But they're—" she cuts herself off before she can finish. He frowns, squeezing her hand.

"But they're what?"

"They're happy without you. They're fine. They don't need you. Why would you miss them?"

He tilts his head. "She's—Rose is my daughter."

"You keep saying that like it means something."

"It does! She's my—she's my child. I love her, everything I did—I did it for her. I died for her, so many times, and I fought to keep her safe, to make sure she had the best chance at life she could. And yeah, I'm sad that I can't be there for her now when she does need me."

"But she doesn't need you," Eveline insists, the confusion in her voice the only thing keeping his heart from tearing out of his chest, "she has Chris."

He takes a deep breath. "You're right," he says, as much as it pains him, "she might not need me, but she—she wants me in her life still."

"Chris doesn't want you."

"Eveline," he croaks, and she looks away with something like guilt in her expression.

"He doesn't," and her voice is quieter now, "he…he told you that. Why…how can you miss him when he doesn't want or need you?"

He's quiet for a long time, playing the conversation he just had with Chris over and over in his head. Chris—Christopher fucking Redfield muffling his tears in a pillow as Ethan pushed words through it, if he hadn't literally just been there, he's not sure he would've believed it himself.

You should be here, Chris had mumbled, not me. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. It should've been me, Ethan, you—god, you deserve so much fucking better.

And he thinks about what it was like after Louisiana, in Romania, and about how there were three things that hurt the most since his life went to hell. One was when Mia cut his hand off with a chainsaw. One was when he discovered he was holding his baby daughter's head in a flask. And one was when Christopher fucking Redfield punched him in the goddamn face.

"I needed him," he says eventually, "there was a time where I really…really needed him. And he wasn't—he didn't—what I needed him to be and what he was capable of being weren't the same thing."

He's crying again. Eveline shuffles closer after a pause, pressing against his side. She's squeezing his hand tightly now, not saying a word. He sniffles, wipes his nose and wipes his hand on his pants. He's not going to think about this now. Not while he's still a mess from talking with Rose and Chris, not when he's coming the closest to talking about whatever the fuck happened with that whole mess with Eveline, of all people. You don't dump that sort of shit on a kid, not if you're Ethan Winters.

"I'm sorry for crying."

"Don't be sorry for crying, that's stupid."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"I wish…" She trails off for a moment, then her head touches his shoulder. "I wish they could've been who you needed them to be and who you wanted them to be."

He thinks about it for a moment before letting his head rest on hers. "Yeah. I wish that were true too. Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No. I want to sit here."

The with you goes unsaid, but it warms his chest all the same. They sit in the quiet for a long while, watching the black river go by.

"Do you think I could do the same thing you can?"

"What's that?"

"Reach them. Up there."

He lets out a long breath. "I don't know. I still don't really know what part of my powers are letting me do that. I'm sure you could figure it out, smarty-pants—" here he feels her smile, just a little— "but I don't know. Are you—you're in the mold through you, right?"

She twists to look up at him with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Well—Miranda was copied by the Black God, right? Then she made the Masked Duke and all that, the dude who lured Rose in to begin with. But you—are you here because of you?"

Eveline looks back down, frowning. She reaches out with her other hand and touches the frozen mold-mud. She slowly shakes her head back and forth. "It's…it's messy."

"How is it messy?"

"Feel it."

He reaches down to touch it too. It's slimy, yeah, but it feels the same way all the other mold feels. Just sort of gross. "I don't get it."

"I'm not connected here, not really. You pointed it out, I don't really feel things. I'm not—this isn't my mold."

Right. That's right. Eveline's mold was in Louisiana. This mold, Miranda's mold, is whatever the Connections based their stuff off of. Similar, but not the same. "Wait—then how are you here?"

Because if Eveline isn't here because of this mold, that means she's somehow here through her mold. But that wouldn't make sense, unless the mold from the Connections could reach all the way back to before they synthesized whatever made Eveline and her mold in Louisiana, which seemed…unlikely, even though they are talking about mold gods and not much seems unlikely when you start talking about mold gods. There has to be something, then, something else connecting the two molds, something allowing Eveline to manifest here…

…shit.

"Is it…me?"

"What?"

"Me," Ethan says quietly, "you—your mold brought me back first. Then when I came here, I connected with the Megamycete here, and…"

"…and then I showed up," Eveline finishes, "I'm here because of you."

It's not the revelation either of them wanted, but it is the one they needed.

"Does that mean that I could—that I could do the same thing you do? Could I talk to Rose?"

"I don't know, Eveline."

"…can I try?"

He looks down at her, at their hands wrapped around each other.

"Be careful," he says, and he's not too sure which one of them the caution's for.

He really shouldn't be thinking about stuff like this too hard, should he?

***

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ah, Agent Kennedy." The Duke clasps his hands. "Consider this an aspect of our first-class customer service."

"How do you know who I am?"

"I make it my business to know everything about my customers, but in your case, I believe you became quite well acquainted with a personal friend of mine in Spain."

Of fucking course they know each other. Of course they do. He shakes his head. "That doesn't answer my question: what the hell are you doing here?"

The Duke's smiling expression dims slightly and his gaze turns to Rose. He sees Chris shift in front of her ever so slightly as the Duke bows his head. "Ms. Winters. A pleasure and an honor to greet you face to face."

"I've seen you before."

"Yes, and I imagine not all of them were pleasant. You have my apologies for the actions undertaken my others carrying my visage."

He glances at Chris, who looks just as clueless as he is, and decides that's not something he's gonna worry about right now.

"Is he here?"

"Yes, and I can help you find him."

Rose is about to jump at the chance when Chris holds out his arm. "What's the catch?"

"Ethan Winters is a man who has suffered an inordinate amount of pain in his life. A great many powers have tried and failed to impede him." The Duke fixes both him and Chris with a stern look. "I would not see either of you join their ranks."

"You're—you're threatening us over being nice to him?"

"Both of you represent organizations with vested interests in destroying beings like him. I cannot in good conscience guide you to him were I not certain it would be to help, not to harm."

"I trust them," Rose says, stepping in front of Chris, "if you don't take their word, take mine."

The Duke's expression softens as he looks at Rose. "On that, Ms. Winters, I have never wavered. Far be it from me to keep you from your father."

He reaches behind him and places a small token in her hand. Both him and Chris crane their necks to see it, but it doesn't look like much of anything, just a small part of…a plant? A moment later, though, Rose's veins glow white and she gasps.

"Safe travels," the Duke says, back to the sunny man he was at the beginning, "and do give Mr. Winters my best."

***

Ethan finds Eveline on the ground with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and tears on her cheeks.

"Hey, hey," he calls softly, dropping to his knees next to her, "what's wrong? Are you okay? What's going on?"

Eveline sobs and all but throws herself at his chest, all knees and elbows freezing cold. He's knocked almost onto his back, catching himself at the last minute and wrapping his arms around her. She buries her ice cube of a nose in his neck and he hisses.

"Hey," he murmurs again, rubbing up and down her back, "talk to me, what's happened?"

She just shakes her head and sobs again. He scrambles for something to do—she likes being held, or at least she indicated that she wanted to be held, so he rubs firmly up and down her back even though he knows she can't feel it. Well, wait a minute. If she's here through him, and he's the one holding her, maybe he can do something about that.

He closes his eyes and concentrates. On the feeling of having a child in his arms, a crying child at that, of having them sitting in his lap, their head under his chin. On the warmth of his breath on their head, of the weight of his arms around them. The slow movement of his chest as he encourages them to take deep breaths, the pass of his hand up and down, up and down.

Eveline shudders so hard he thinks he might drop her, a gasp tearing itself from her throat as she starts to shiver terribly, whimpering as she tries to push herself into his chest. He holds her tightly, so tightly, murmuring reassurance in her ear.

"You're okay," he says gently, "you're safe, I've got you. You're gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

He's glad the blanket is soft. To be honest, he's a little surprised Eveline was capable of making it, perhaps she pulled from the memory of the Baker house. Although, this one looks awfully familiar…

The realization slams into him. Rose has been having nightmares. Nightmares about Eveline. And this blanket looks like the one he used to wrap Rose in when he put her down on the couch.

Rose gave Eveline this blanket, he thinks with no small amount of glee, Rose was here. Rose gave Eveline something soft that she could feel.

"You're gonna be warm," he whispers next, rocking her back and forth, "you're gonna get to be all soft and warm and safe, Eveline, it's gonna be so nice. You're gonna be so warm."

God, and now it's slamming him in the face. Ethan was able to manifest here because of Rose, and with him came all their memories of family, of how much he wanted to be her dad. Ethan can still talk to Rose, and Chris, and Mia, because more than anything he wanted to live. And Eveline was alone, so alone, because no one who was supposed to love her did and she's been cold, so cold, and lonely, because she's just a kid.

She's still just a kid.

"Ethan," he hears her whimper, "Ethan, what's—what's going on?"

"I'm hugging you. You're in my lap, Eveline, I've got you. Rose gave you this nice, soft, warm blanket and I'm hugging you to help warm you up. You've been so cold, haven't you?" He runs his fingers through her hair—god, when was the last time someone touched Eveline softly?— "it's okay, I'm here now, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I'm—I'm scared, Ethan."

"Shh, it's okay. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

It's a long night—he assumes it's night, he always assumes it's night when he can feel Rose asleep. He holds Eveline as she cries herself out. Not to sleep, they don't really sleep, but she wears herself out enough that she just sort of goes limp in his arms, breathing softly. He keeps rocking her back and forth, smoothing his hand over her hair.

Fuck, he thinks idly, I think I'm attached to this kid.

In true Ethan Winters fashion, of course, he notices it when he's in way too deep to do anything about it, but he doesn't mind. Too much.

"Please don't leave me."

"Hm?"

"You want to go back," Eveline mumbles, the blanket still slung over her shoulders like a cape as she plays with the gloves, "you…you can go back. But I don't…I don't want to be alone again."

"Hey," he says, giving her a gentle shake, "you're here because of me, remember? Maybe you'll come with me when I leave."

"I'm gonna have a body again?"

"I don't know about that. Do you want to have a body again?"

"…not really. I don't…" She hunches in on herself. "People really hate me when I have a body. Maybe I should just be words and feelings like you are for Rose."

"Don't you leave me either, okay? I need someone to tell me when I'm being stupid."

"You're always being stupid."

"See?" He pulls her back in for another hug, making sure she can feel it. "I told you, I'm not leaving you. I promise."

"…okay."

***

She can feel him. She can feel him. She's going to vibrate out of her skin.

She can hear Chris and Leon calling for her to slow down, to be careful, to wait for them, but her heart is pounding and her powers are buzzing right under her fingertips and he's so close. She can feel him.

She gets to the top of a small hill and looks down into the valley below. Something is moving.

With a cry, she barrels toward it.

***

The sun feels weird after so long. That's the first thing he thinks. Granted, he did just dig himself out of the ground, but still. Ambient warmth is gonna take some getting used to again.

Eveline shifts just under his skin. She's not here here, just something he can feel if he focuses. He keeps his promises, after all, and he wasn't about to leave her in that flat hellscape alone. He manages to get himself all the way above ground, panting slightly as he looks around. Yep, this is very much a destroyed version of the village he spent a day and a half—was that how long it was?—roaming around, trying to get his daughter back. Fewer lycans than he remembers. Good.

Ethan Winters, very bad at staying dead.

He hears a cry from up above him. He looks up—

There she is.

There she is, in all her glory, blonde hair and baseball cap and his jacket, looking like an angel.

He almost can't believe it. Shaking, he holds out his arms.

With a cry, she bolts down the hill towards him and throws herself into his arms. She smells like gunpowder and that horrible industrial shampoo the bases and labs always used and she's crushing his leg and sobbing all over his shoulder and it's Rose, his Rosemary, he's got his daughter in his arms again.

"Rose," he sniffles, "oh, sweetie, oh, I missed you so much."

"Dad, you're alive, you're actually alive, I—" she pulls back just enough to scream back up the hill— "Chris! Leon! I found him! He's alive!"

He manages to tear his face out of her shoulder enough to blink up into the sun—yeah, definitely gonna take some getting used to—and sure enough, two more figures crest the hill.

"Oh, god," he hears, before Chris is skidding down the hill and wrapping his arms around both of them, choking on his words, "oh, god."

"Not God," he rasps, "just me."

"Ethan, holy fuck, you—Ethan."

"Well, shit, Winters," he hears Leon say, as he crouches down next to them, "guess your streak continues, huh?"

"Think this makes me three for three."

"Shut up," Rose mumbles and it's…perfect.

Yeah, he thinks as Leon gets dragged into the hug on the muddy, icy, snow-covered ground as the sun shines down on them, pretty fucking perfect.

#resident evil #resident evil 7 #resident evil biohazard #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil shadows of rose #rosemary winters #ethan winters #eveline #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #chris redfield #dragonbabbles #fic

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winderlylandchime · 1 year ago

Note

There has been a development in his opinions about the Pink Posse storyline.

He walked into the living room and went ‘i was up all night thinking about the Pink Pus-Posse thing. And i have several thoughts and even more disappointments…..so far but that’s to be shared when i see how bad it goes…i have zero faith’ he thought it out and came up with two different versions of his own opinion because and i quote ‘one is for serious and one is for shits and giggles because how can i take them seriously?‘ and in order to explain it to me he DREW STICK FIGURES. So please bare with me while i try to explain this shit. The “serious” opinion drawing is two stick figures representing britin and theyre standing close together with a heart above their heads. And then the Justin stick figure has two thinking bubbles, one is britin kissing and the other one is a stick figure Justin and a baseball bat. And Brians stick figure only has 1 bubble that’s like split in middle and it’s Justin and a baseball bat(Basically same as Justins) and Cody and Justin. And then on a bit further from them is another stick figure thats cody and his thinking bubble is bunch of stick figures with Xs as their eyes. Clearly I am related to picasso. And basically his opinion is that Justin is split between being free and happy and gay and between anger and revenge. And he has to decide between cody and brian(except he thinks it could be another ethan type plot). Meanwhile Brian only thinks this will lead to the prom scene again. And in fact he thinks thats what they might do in the season: hurt justin on a patrol and Brian freaks and then gives him an ultimatum for the first time and that leads to the i love you (you gotta give it to him, he’s persistent with the i love you), he also fully thinks Brian and Cody will meet and have a confrontation (which ngl now i am suddenly wishing we had that bc his reenactment of what he thinks will happen was entertaining). i was actually impressed by this bc so far he has taken the posse plot only half serious which i get. Even tho i was confused about the drawing but he said that at 3 am this is the only way he could make sense. Now the unserious version is a drawing that is basically a reenactment of Drag Race. Brian is in the middle instead of Ru and he has Daphne and Jen on each side and they are making fun of a stick figure Cody. Jokes about the buzzcuts and the pink shirts are written in little speech bubbles.

I now really wish the unserious opinion/drawing came to life because it would be a dream. Daphne, Jen and Brian just roasting anybody would be funny as fuck. Even if it’d be Justin

WOW! Your Brother is basically writing fanfiction (gap filler, Pink Posse arc) right now. I think the serious version could be an amazing fic - Brian confront Cody during the arc.

Also, I am DYING LAUGHING because if Brian is Ru and Daphne and Jen are on either side, that means one of them is Michelle Visage and the other is the-hilarious-Ross-Matthews or style-super-star-Carson Kressley. And I am living for this. And it makes me want to abandon middle-aged exes-to-lovers and write my RPDR/QAF crossover fic.

(I won’t abandon it, but it does bump drag race au up on the list of what I want to write next)

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #queer as folk #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023

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marvellousinternethideout · 2 years ago

Text

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

Season 2

Ep 8 - The Dark Age

A visitor for Rupert Giles, well, everything gonna be fine, really, why would he look for him and it not he's gonna die before reaching him.

Oh for fuck sake, put the volume down Buffy, a man is dying outside woman.

Well, I guess he will die.

Now you turn off the music. Oh girl.

Did this green color monster(?) girl turned into green liquid. Perfect.

What was this Giles dream? Was he part of the dark forces cult? Giles is too damn mysterious.

Jenny is gonna die, isn't she...

Jenny make him squirm in another way, not by telling him you underlined in his book.

Welp she will make him squirm other way and she decided to try it on Saturday. Good for you girl, ofc unless you're dead then it's not good idea at all.

God Cordelia, shut up.

Giles was part of some cult wasn't he..?

What's with the tattoo ?

C'mon now even doctors are vampires. No one is safe there.

What's going Giles? Another one of Giles old cult friend is dead, looks like three of them is dead. Well giles is next .

He also has the same tattoo. What kind of cult were you part of giles.

Wait, who's back Giles? More mystery, love it, love the episode .

So the tattoo killed bodies are turning into some kind of monster and killing the next member. So he's coming for giles now.

Lmao xander, i love it when he roasts Cordelia .

Oh, it's Ethan guy, wait why is he here? Oh, yeah he was also the part of cult.

"Mark of wagon(?)" damn it kinda sounds devilish.

The dead body is back and he wants to kill Ethan. So Ethan will kill Rupert.

Ethan called giles ripper didn't he?

Damn giles, he's hot when he gets like this, all serious and strong.

What kind of evil god/demon did they all summoned and pissed off?

Oh no, Jenny is the green monster now. Damn another one is dead. Poor giles. Also, Giles get tf away from Jenny.

Giles love, Jenny is gonna kill you, run.

Good, the gang figured out that Jenny is the possessed demon now.

Oh well the demon came forward on his own, good for giles i guess... Or not.

Rupert Jenny is dead now. Yes "don't be sorry, be Giles", listen to buffy.

What do you mean, you created this monster giles.

Giles was in the band, Damn! He was kinda hot.

We're gonna have to kill Jenny, don't we?

Ethan is kinda hot and a dumb bitch.

Wait, what is Ethan doing? What a fucking bitch. What a coward.

Xander and Cordelia just needs to hate fuck it out of their system. Go find a closet.

Oh damn, willow snapped, you go, girl tell them.

Giles get your shit together, it's time to save buffy.

Kill ethan not buffy you weird green demon.

Oh yess Angel is here to save the day.

Wait, wtf, did angel just got the demon inside him. What's gonna happen to him.

So Jenny didn't die this episode, well let's see when she does.

Damn, so I guess giles and Jenny are over. Feel bad for Giles, he and buffy are so alone, it's sad. They share the same fate.

What happened to angel?

So, phew this episode, this was intense. I loved this one, it's like we are now continually picking pace. Giles dark past, honestly not that dark, I thought it's gonna be more darker and intense. Still, kinda wish we had more scenes of his past.

Whatever that monster was, wygon(?) I think, is inside angel or dead, I didn't quite understand that part. That was a smart move from willow.

Oh and Jenny and giles seem to be over, yeah it's sad but who can blame her, you can't be part of giles and Buffy's life unless you're part of the supernatural world, it's sad but it is what it is. Hopefully he will find someone someday. It has to get so lonely. It's honestly a sad life, minus saving the whole world thingy.

I guess that's it, loved the episode, it was interesting, especially giles past, I still wish we had more angel, as much as I love the chemistry between buffy and him, I can't exactly ship them when he's barely in the show. No spike or drusilla in this episode, no vampires. Also, no OZ, can we have him back.

Oh btw, fuck you Ethan.

That's it, see ya in the next one. Cheers 🥂

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #btvs s2 #btvs s2 review #btvs s2 ep 8 #episode 8 #buffy #willow #xander #angel #cordelia #rupert giles #giles past #buffy x willow x xander #buffy x angel #no oz again #no spike #btvs review #The dark age

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jerzwriter · 2 years ago

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Hello Dear! Thanks so much for asking! OK, I've "introduced" him in the past, and he's made an appearance in two fics thus far, but we'll be getting to know him a little better soon.

Tobias's baby brother, Jordan Carrick.

Some information about this freaking handsome man below.

Jordan is Tobias’s younger brother and only sibling. They were born seven years apart.

Tobias was excited to have a sibling after being an only child for seven years, especially since his parents work and social obligations often had them away from home. But not long after Jordan was born, a young Tobias realized the age difference meant he wasn’t all that much fun to play with.

While they weren’t exceptionally close, they loved each other very much. Tobias was protective of him, but because of the age gap, they were always in different circles.

When Tobias was in college and med school, their relationship really waned, culminating when their father died. Jordan was angry at Tobias over the differences he had with their father. Jordan was close to his Dad and, especially after he became ill, Jordan resented Tobias for causing him any pain. Further, Jordan was young (still in high school) and had to bear the brunt of caring for the family during the tumultuous time as Tobias was in Hopkins.

After their father’s death they had a huge fight and barely spoke for several years. But when Jordan was in college, Tobias made a trip to see him and mended their relationship. While they don’t see each other all that often, they do talk and are close.

Jordan is a total playboy, just like his older brother used to be. He and Tobias swore they’d always be bachelors, and Jordan takes great pleasure in teasing him about it - he also wasn’t too crazy about the idea of Tobias getting married at first, even though he initially liked Casey. This led to another rift and they didn’t speak again until just before Tobias & Casey’s wedding.

In time the relationship is repaired and he is close with Casey as well. He is a doting uncle and is always in competition with Bryce to be “the cool uncle.” Together with Bryce they roast Ethan every time he tries to get into the competition.

He is an award winning photographer, and later a cinematographer. He leads a very jet set life filled with travel and lots of luxuries.

#jordan carrick #tobias carrick #baby brother #original characters #face claim #rege jean page

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darlingshane · 2 years ago

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Like a Marshmallow

Ethan Sawyer x F!Reader

Warnings/Content: 18+, explicit, fingering, vaginal sex, making out, eating snacks, fluff, crack, protective Ethan, established relationship, alcohol mention, period mention.

Word Count: 3,409

Summary: You and Ethan go camping.

You can also read at AO3.

The sky suddenly casts a darker shade of velvet blue, showcasing clear skies, peppered with stars, while you hold the stick with a steady pulse, letting the marshmallow roast over the fire until it's done to your liking.

When you take it away to place it on a cracker, you catch Ethan staring at you– carrying a bolder flame in the depth of his eyes than the one burning in the fire pit between the two of you.

Undoubtedly, he'd be able to fulminate you on the spot if he wanted to.

“What?” Your lips curve up, half glancing at him, keeping your focus on placing an ounce of dark chocolate and a second cracker over the marshmallow to finish your s'more.

“Haven’t said anything,” it takes him a moment to reply with an amused shrug, and then tilts the beer bottle up to his lips, downing the last of it.

Ethan just got momentarily lost in his thoughts, realizing how he lucked out the day he met you, and how he'd never disrespect you like those guys he met earlier. They had set camp about 60 yards away from your chosen spot, and they were bitching about their respective others like assholes when they offered Ethan a beer. To be honest, they were at least 10 years younger than him, but maturity isn't an excuse to act like that, he's always believed. Younger Ethan was a little clueless and dumb at times admittedly, but he never showed anything but respect for whoever he was dating, even the ones who treated him badly.

You have been out camping for four days now, like you’ve been doing every summer for the past three years since you started dating. Ethan has taken it upon himself to show you his favorite parts of the mountains. He knows them like the back of his hand but still uses a map and a compass nonetheless, cause he's not stupid, and cocky enough to rely on memory only. And he'd hate to put you in danger just to show off. His cautiousness rules over anything else, but still refuses to settle in designated campsites, though. Those are for the general population, he says, as if they were prison sites.

Now, the first year he brought you out here was an utter disaster. You got your period right after taking off, and all you wanted to do was curl into a ball on the floor instead of hiking the 10 to 15 miles every day like Ethan's used to. But you pushed through during the first one, cause your relationship was fairly new, and you were trying to impress him or whatever. The next day, exhaustion led you to have a full-blown meltdown mid-hike. And when you took a moment to rest, your legs gave up, not really feeling like trekking any longer. By the hand of nature, a huge storm broke all of a sudden that forced you to find a safe place and set camp for the next few days. It actually brought you closer together. While you felt embarrassed at the time for having him seeing you like that, eventually– you got over it.

Ethan, being the sweetheart that he was, and the supporting and understanding boyfriend he’s always been, never made you feel anything but loved and safe.

The second year was vastly different. You were a little hesitant at first, but you convinced yourself to give it another chance cause you wanted to love everything that he's passionate about. His adventurous side is something else entirely. It just adds to the list of great qualities of what makes Ethan Sawyer the man he is. Discovering how respectful and caring he's towards nature is something that really warms your heart. You knew he used to teach survival skills to civilians and military groups after he left the air force. Having first-hand access, and his undivided attention for you to learn everything he knows while you watched him do it, became a very special thing for you. You were worried he'd be too bossy and/or patronizing, like every other asshole with a badge out there, since you’ve never been out in the wilderness like that. And initially, you thought that that would hinder your relationship somehow, but no, Ethan truly broke the mold. He’s only interested in you learning what you’re comfortable with, and has never pushed you to do anything you didn’t want to.

This is actually your third consecutive year out here, and after putting the empty bottle in the trash bag, Ethan sits beside you on the bench by the fire.

You pat his back with your palm spread open, purposely hard and loud, twice, mimicking what you saw earlier when he was conversing with those kids before they headed towards the river.

“Sup, bro?” you mock him in a sounder voice, smacking his back once more, making him snort, “what's up with that, huh? Why do you guys pat each other like beasts? Is it a secret code? Are you testing who's the strongest of the pack? Or is it a safe way to measure each other's dicks in public?”

“Don't know anything about that. Just guys being guys I guess,” he scoffs and wets his lips, curling an arm around your waist, “can I have a bite of that?”

Pursing your lips, you stare at your s'more for a beat. Then, you bring it up to his playfully, curved up mouth that opens widely, and when you least expect it– he takes a mouthful with a comedic roar, leaving you with nothing but crumbles between your fingers.

“Hey! You said a bite, that was not a bite, mister.”

“You've eaten at least five of those already, sugar-lips,” his shameless stuffed-mouth articulates with a little difficulty.

“What is it to you? We're camping, this is all that we should eat.” You banter with nothing but love and amusement.

There's a pause while he swallows your snack before saying, “well, first, I'm the one who has to deal with you later in a sugar-high, and second, your beautiful teeth will rot and fall if you don't stop.”

“That's… what dental insurance is for,” you utter for the lack of a better come back, and reach out to your supplies to make another, while Ethan gives you a look, “what? I swear, this is the last one.”

As the temperature drops, you finish your last s'more and snuggle closer with him. One of his arms circles your back, as his opposite palm smooths your denim-covered leg.

You drape your legs over one of his thighs, fitting your face at the crook of his neck to inhale the warmth scent of his skin; having your hand sneaking beneath the opening of his flannel shirt over his toned chest, massaging his collarbones nicely, at the same time leaving a trail of slacked open-mouth kisses all over his neck.

Ethan bares his teeth, trapping his bottom lip when you move to the other side; enjoying the sweet undoing of your lips, making his skin turn into goosebumps, as a shy boner builds behind his underwear at all the attention he's getting.

After a minute or two, he lets out a long sigh and gets a hold of your face, framing your jaw on the plane of his wide palm. He gazes at you with the same vivid flame you saw earlier, as if you were the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

A thumb swipes across your perked-up lips before having his head dipping to capture the taste of your kiss; firmly but oh-so tender that you could turn into a puddle right on the spot at the delicious swirling of his tongue.

The hand, resting in your hip, sneaks underneath the hem of your shirt, making you jump slightly and laugh into the kiss when his fingers brush that weak, ticklish spot on your side.

“Sorry, baby,” he mumbles, moving his hand to the middle of your back to glide up and down, as his tongue delves deeper, turning your stomach into a frenzy of flutters.

You’d stay there all night, glued to his lips, if you could, but since all good things always come to an end– your little make out session gets interrupted by those kids coming back from the river.

They’re absolutely wasted by the looks of it – jeering and wolf whistling like jerks at the sight of you two lip locking.

“Get it, Sawyer!” One of them yells as they pass by, walking towards their tents.

You roll your eyes and self-consciously rub your index finger on your bottom lip after breaking the kiss.

Ethan swallows hard, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around you, cuddling you closer as the crease of his brow deepens.

“That a fuckin' fine piece of ass,” a second one says in lewdly manner directly staring at you, making your skin crawl, “come over later, baby, would ya? Bet you could take my dick too.”

“The fuck did you just said?” Ethan suddenly releases you and stands up– covering you, puffing his chest, balling his fists.

“Said she can have my-”

“Shut the fuck up and keep walking, asshole, go on,” a third guy, following closely behind, quickly interrupts, shoving his friend forwards, and apologizes, “sorry, guys. They don't know how to drink.”

“Just keep him away, yeah?” A small snarl plays at Ethan’s lips, keeping his eyes on the offender.

“Yeah, have a good night.”

“Night,” your boyfriend's jaw tightens, watching them like a hawk stride away until they reach their tents.

You exhale that breath you were holding since the moment Ethan tensed up, and get up on your feet to put out the fire safely, like he taught you, before hitting the sack.

“You okay, baby?” He then turns to you, pushing his hair back.“I'm really sorry about that.”

“Yeah, like you said… just guys being guys. It's not your fault.” You glance over your shoulder for a second to see them laughing and roughhousing it.

“Assholes being assholes,” he mutters.

“You got that right.”

There are only a few things that would set a teddy bear like Ethan off, and having anyone or anything making you feel uncomfortable is on the top of that list. He'd have no problem putting them in their place if he had to, and if his friend hadn’t intervened, the situation could have turned really ugly, really fast.

When the fire is off, you lean on your toes and kiss his cheek, giving a light squeeze to his arm, “don't take too long, babe.”

“I won't.”

You go inside the nylon dome and settle, while Ethan stays out for a few minutes, making sure the embers have cooled down enough. At the same time, he keeps an eye on those guys just to see that they aren't going to try anything else.

When he joins you in the tent, you’re already tucked in, resting on your front and propped on your elbows with your phone in your hands, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram after posting a couple of pictures you snapped earlier. The zipping noise of the flap closing pulls your eyes away from the screen, and you roll to your back and turn on the lantern as Ethan sits down and takes off his boots and pants.

“C’mere,” your hand extends in his direction as he lays down next to you, sliding underneath the unzipped side of the double sleeping bag.

You curl your arm around his neck, pulling his face flush against your cheek, as you lift your opposite hand, holding the phone, to take a selfie with him.

You frown, moving it side to side in search of the best angle.

“Lemme,” he takes the phone from you, holding it higher, and hitting the wrong button with his big thumb that switches the thing to video instead. “It’s not working.”

You snort, watching the both of you on the screen as it records, “it’s working, you’re just filming a video.”

“Oh.”

“No, it’s okay. Perfect, in fact,” your lips curve up against his cheekbone, sliding your hand along his jaw, guiding his face to the side, so you can capture his mouth.

You let your lips press a few wet, tamed kisses before giving into the cravings of your tongue.

The phone is still perched above in his hand when you cross the threshold of his lips. As the slow swirl of your tongue brushes his, he brings that hand down, placing the device blindly somewhere between your body and his, so he can touch you instead.

He props himself on his bottom elbow and takes the reins, gripping your jaw with his opposite hand, kissing you with great vehemence, as if he was trying to claim your breath as his own.

You lose all sense of awareness when he pours his love like that. Easily making you forget everything that’s wrong in the world and pulling you into an alternate dimension where only you and him exist like this– wrapped around the other in a cocoon of warmth and happiness.

Your hands slowly undo the remaining buttons of his flannel to bask in the heat pouring out of his skin on the plane of your palms.

Everything heats up quickly as his hand releases your face to travel down your half naked body, preserved in only a pair of panties and a Henley. Aiming from that spot at your center that’s buzzing in anticipation, his thick fingers slip under the elastic of your underwear and travel further down your mound to collect the arousal already pooling in your folds.

It’s at that moment when he starts pressing soft circles around your clit that you part from his lips, and hold on to his neck with both hands, gasping at his name.

“You like that, huh?” he purrs over your parted lips, pressing a little harder for good measure.

“Hmm, you know I do, baby,” your hips wave slightly at the friction of his skilled fingers that rub fervently against your tender skin, noticing his hard-on pressing on your leg.

“Look at you, so wet for me already. Melting like a marshmallow,” he says playfully, forcing a laugh out of you mid-moan, “bet you taste like one too.”

“Ethan,” you let out a shaky breath at his name, losing concentration altogether.

If you didn’t know him any better, you’d say he’s drunk, but he’s not. He just likes testing you and making you laugh at the most inconvenient times.

“Shh, shh,” he grins like an asshole, running the tip of his tongue behind his teeth as one of his fingers delves deeper into your walls to gather the slickness straight from the source and bring it to his lips.

Half-frustrated, half-enraptured, you can't keep your eyes from watching him shoving his middle finger into his mouth and closing his bowed lips around it.

Getting a good taste out of you, he licks it clean with nothing but sheer lust.

“So fuckin’ sweet.”

“Quit joshing and fuck me now,” you demand and hastily shimmy out of your panties.

“Yeah? You wanna come around me?”

As you nod, he quickly yanks his boxer briefs down, and crawls on top of you.

You push his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, having him slipping one arm at a time, as the hardness that is his length brushes briefly your sensitive skin in your maneuvering.

Biting on your bottom lip, you hold to his sides, while he glances between your bodies to guide the blunt tip of his erection precisely between your folds. He keeps watching at the center point where his cock disappears into your opening, slowly stretching you out, collecting your arousal all over his cock.

He pushes in and out tentatively as you adjust your legs for a better position, letting your tender walls mold to the shape of his length.

“Oh, right there, babe,” you moan as he experimentally thrusts one more time before having his hips rocking at a pleasant cadence.

“Hmm, there you go, sweetheart,” his free hand invites itself underneath the hem of your shirt to grip at your breast; his thumb circling your puckered nipple, as the motion of his thrust picks up without slamming into you just yet.

Tangled with the other, you tuck your legs around his thighs, pulling him harder and deeper into you desperately.

He lifts your shirt and hunches his torso, so he can fit his mouth around your nipple while he fucks you. His large palm grips tighter under your boob, sticking his deft tongue out to lick and circle the hardened peak sensually before sucking it between his lips.

Once again, you easily fall into that blissful place of becoming one with him– thriving on sharing each other’s breaths, skins, fluids, and every ounce of love you can offer until you both come undone.

Ethan groans at the curve of your neck as your breath catches. His erection thins out, and he slips out of you carefully, allowing a thick dribble of you and him, mixed together, to trickle down your opening, that continues clenching around nothingness as the orgasm wanes.

Unable to pull away from you, he fully envelops you in several layers of soft caresses, whispered secrets, and heartfelt kisses, spoiling you rotten like no one ever has while you recover.

The plane of your palms glides up his dampen back. He’s a human furnace right now, and it'd bother you if you didn’t adore having him wrapped around you like that.

“Love you so much,” he props himself on his elbows once he’s regained some strength, having one hand playing with your hair and the other caressing your face oh-so tenderly.

“Love you more,” you breathe out, heart bursting at the seams at the way he looks at you.

“Yeah?”

“You bet,” your lips quirk up, observing Ethan’s curls sticking to the sweat on his forehead. You move them out of the way and wipe his skin with the back of your hand. “We're gonna have to burn this damn bag if we’re gonna do this every night.”

“I have no problem with that,” his shoulders shrug with indifference, “we’ll buy a new one next year.”

Your phone suddenly buzzes somewhere in the vicinity, and you jolt before reaching blindly for it to remember at that moment that he had been recording earlier– and knowing him, he probably didn’t press pause.

“Please tell me you hit stop when you put the phone down.”

“‘Course, I did.”

Your brow narrows as you unlock the phone, a little skeptical for a second before seeing that, yes, he actually paused before filming an X-rated movie.

“Oh, good.”

“What? You really think I was going to film a sex tape without your written consent?” He utters as you quietly read a couple of texts from a friend, “you know that’s not my style.”

“Really? So what you’re saying is that you actually would like to do one if I’d say yes?” You put the phone away.

His lips turn downwards quickly, as he gives it a good thought, “I mean… I’ve never thought about it, but if you-”

“Nope, absolutely no. I—would—never,” You cut him off dramatically, making him burst out laughing, “I’d rather lick a hundred frogs than putting an amateur video of you and me having sex out there in the world.”

“That’s a shame,” his head tilts to the side.

“Why is that?”

“Cause you should see how beautiful you are when I’m inside you. And when you're close. And the way you sound…”

“Shut up,” you cover his eyes with both palms, a little embarrassed by his words.

“And when you come,” he lets out a whistling sound, pulling away from your hands, so he can look at you again as he says, “now, that’s something to remember, sweetheart.”

“Well, you don’t need a video for that.”

“No, I don’t. I’ll never forget. It’s all right here,” he taps his temple twice with his index finger, “forever.”

“In that thick skull of yours?” You quip, framing his face, and bring his head down to press your lips in the middle of his forehead, “it better be, cause that’s all you’ll ever get.”

“That’s fine with me, baby,” he says as you guide your lips lower to print another kiss on the bridge of his nose.

#ethan sawyer #those who wish me dead #ethan sawyer x reader #jon bernthal #fanfiction #fluff #crack #darlingwrites

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moistvonlipwig · 2 years ago

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C/A Week Day 6: Favorite Cangel Centric Episode

**It’s hard for me to choose a favorite Cangel episode since there are so many amazing ones, so for this Cangel Appreciation Week I’m spotlighting an episode that I think doesn't get enough love.**

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER 2.06 "HALLOWEEN"

Spooky season is upon us, so it's only fitting I talk about this iconic episode of Buffy from way back before Angel and Cordelia were spun off to their own better series.

There's a lot to like in this episode from an Angel/Cordelia perspective. Cordelia's crush on Angel is very cute, and her obliviousness to his status as a vampire is very funny. They work surprisingly well together even this early on as they try to get Buffy and Xander to safety.

I want to highlight two scenes in particular, the ones that the above screencaps are from. The first is the scene in the Bronze where Cordelia, stood up by Devon, joins Angel for coffee while he's waiting for Buffy. This scene is rather famous among Angel/Cordelia fans, and for good reason: Angel laughs. Genuinely. Multiple times, even. Angel, who up to this point in the show has not indicated a significant capacity for emotions that aren't "brooding" and "being into Buffy", is legitimately enjoying Cordelia's roast of Devon's car. He thinks she's funny! He's having fun! It's an unintentional premonition of what their relationship will look like in Angel: the two of them laughing with each other and being snobby about cars together.

The second scene I want to talk about is the one in the alleyway where they're trying to calm Buffy down. This scene delights me mostly for the Look™ they give each other when Buffy starts shouting about Angel being a vampire. What cracks me up about that look is how they both are exasperated for totally different reasons but they're both so convinced they're on the same page that they end up being in sync. They only fall out of sync once Cordelia starts explaining to Angel that Buffy thinks he's a vampire, and Angel does this hilarious double-take in the background where he suddenly realizes that he and Cordelia are not actually on the same page after all. It's a great example of their comedic chemistry together which is part of why their characters work so well as a duo.

Cordelia also rallies admirably in this scene, making up an accidentally true story about Angel being a "good vampire" and telling Buffy that Angel is "our friend" -- something I'm sure felt good for Angel to hear. It's a pity we never get to see Cordelia officially discovering that Angel is a vampire; that would've been fun to see.

Thematically, this episode is also an overall interesting one for Angel and Cordelia. Both are relegated to the relative background compared to Buffy, Xander, Willow, and Giles, but they still have roles to play. "Halloween" is an episode about costumes and masks, about the aspects of themselves that our characters hide from the world or wish they could display. Angel doesn't wear a costume in this episode, but in a sense he's always wearing a costume; whether the costume is the demon or the man is a question that haunts him well into his own show. Cordelia, on the other hand, does wear a costume, but on a more metaphorical level is never wearing a costume, hence why (on a metatextual level) she doesn't get caught up in Ethan's spell; she is utterly comfortable in her own skin and feels no need to hide or filter any part of herself.

It's interesting, then, to read the scene in the Bronze through this lens: a scene in which Cordelia is so unapologetically at ease with herself that she cuts right through Angel's many masks to get to the part of him that's just some guy who loves cars. And then what does she do, once she's uncovered that part of him? She does what she always does -- she makes him laugh.

#this one's kind of all over the place lol #a lot to talk about #cangelappreciationweek2022 #cangel #angel #cordelia chase #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #it's what you do afterwards that counts #the high heels of the messiah #i kind of want to slay the dragon #you call that leather interior

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liaromancewriter · 2 years ago

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Penny for your thoughts?

Do you think part of the charm in the love story between Ethan x MC is the fact that he never loved anyone before loving her? If he were a “normal” man, who has been in serious committed relationships full of love (by his age maybe a divorce even), would it take away how “special” MC is? (I’m trying to talk in general about “MC” instead of “your MC” because I don’t want anyone to feel insulted, but feel free to add up with your own HC if you have Ethan being in love before, I know a lot of people don’t and that’s ok) and;

What about if Ethan were a “normal” man who has friends, goes out, uses social media and is more outgoing (not the life of the party, he is still Ethan Ramsey, just not so lone wolf Ethan Ramsey). If MC didn’t have the praise of having him living life more happily and freely, would it take away from their relationship/bond?

I recently read a post about having characters experiencing a big ass love story more than once, not just the “They never felt this way before”. So it got me thinking about Ethan (I know you share your thoughts on Cassie's side), and the weight MC had in his life. Plus even with your guarantee of Happy Endings I have seen you using realistic situations/approaches in your stories and find that really cool. Best of both worlds. :)

I was online so thought I'd answer with my initial thoughts.

It's hard to say if Ethan Ramsey in canon didn't have any committed relationships before the series starts. There just isn't any evidence to prove that or disprove it for that matter. We do know of his relationship with Harper and by all accounts it lasted several years (at least 7 or 8) even if they weren't together the whole time.

I always assumed Ethan was normal in the way that you described, but just private. He says in Book 1, Ch 4 (premium scene) that he likes to keep his private life separate from the hospital. He also tells us that he makes time for the things that fulfill him: travel, the arts, exercise.

We know Dolores was his friend for 10 years, they met for Sunday roast every now and then, and that he knows her family well enough to call them not once, but twice. He and Naveen certainly were close, celebrating birthdays, etc.

I believe he had a full life, but he is a workaholic. By the time MC comes to Edenbrook, Ethan is starting to burn out and the events that transpire over the next couple of years don't help matters. In that respect, we as the reader only really see his life at work and the relationship dynamics that exist as a result.

The charm of the series, at least for me, was how unexpected the relationship was between Ethan and MC, and as such it's all the more memorable for it. MC didn't come to Edenbrook for love, they came to learn from Ethan Ramsey. From the first moment, that's exactly what happens because they're not afraid to ask for it (unlike Landry).

If MC chooses to romance Ethan, their love story has elements of deep caring and trust, passion and friendship that ultimately becomes love. If MC views Ethan only as a mentor and a peer on the Diagnostics Team, their relationship still has caring and trust at the heart of it as well as friendship and respect. He is MC's mentor and invested in their career, wanting only the best for them.

I know from personal experience that when you work all hours of the day, your strongest and deepest relationships are with those you work with. If you want that of course. But spending 14 hours or more with someone daily just creates a bond that others can't always understand.

If Ethan had a full life outside the hospital, which I believe he did, he and MC would have still had this amazing bond. They're alike in many ways with respect to medicine and career goals, but they also have their unique perspectives and approaches. And they respect each other for it.

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Character Asks: @jerzwriter @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @lucy-268 @queencarb @crazy-loca-blog @peonierose @openheartforeverinmyheart @bluebelle08 @trappedinfanfiction @rookiemartin

#ask and answered #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

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choiceskatie · 3 years ago

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Meet My MC: Dr Teddy Valentinos

Book: Open Heart

Full Name: Theodora Ava Valentinos

Nicknames: Bear (Sienna), Ted (Bryce), Rookie (Ethan), Darlin’ (her dad)

Technically it’s her real name and not a nickname, but the only two people to call her by Theodora as opposed to Teddy are Ethan and her Father, a lot of the time it’s when she’s in deep shit lol.

Face Claim: Emma Louise Connolly

Age; Birthday: 29; December 14th

Love Interest: Ethan Ramsey (main), Bryce Lahela (casual sex pre-Ramsey, few drunk kisses post-Amazon and pre-Ramsey reunion)

Hair: Long, wavy, golden blonde

Eyes: Green

Height: 5’2

Hometown: Providence, Rhode Island

Education:

BSc in Biology, University of St. Andrews

MPhil in Medical Science, University of Cambridge

M.D Harvard Medical School

Occupation: Leader of Diagnostics Team at Edenbrook Hospital

Family: Leonidas and Linda Valentinos (half-Scottish, half-Greek father and American mother), Athena Valentinos (older sister) and Alexander Valentinos (younger brother)

Background: Teddy’s parents met when her mom went to study abroad in Scotland for university before moving back to the states together to get married and start a family. When Teddy was 5, her Grandfather on her Father’s side passed away and her parents decided they’d move back to Scotland to be close to his mother.

Her parents still live in Scotland now even though Teddy moved back to the states for med school, where her mom is a high school Biology teacher. Her father is a key principle violinist in a world famous orchestra, often travelling globally which awards him the chance to make a detour to visit Teddy in Boston, meaning she gets to see him a lot more than her mom. She’s very close to both of her parents but is a true Daddy’s girl at heart.

Her younger brother is still at university in Scotland, and her sister lives in London with her husband.

Has a large Greek family on her dad’s side and spent every summer there growing up until med school, where she worked in one of the local restaurants to earn money and perfect her Greek.

Teases Ethan about the fact she spent the first five years of her life in Rhode Island but the only way they’d have met was if he got hired as her babysitter.

Personality traits: witty, passionate, energetic, zero filter, extremely argumentative, sarcastic, open-minded, quick-tempered, a little lazy, empathetic, friendly, genuine, crazy, wise yet extremely immature, stubborn, always has to have the last word lol. Enough traits?

Extremely shy until she gets to know you, then is embarrassingly open. As a classic Sag, she is painfully honest with her friends and family. If you don’t want the excruciating truth, do not go to Teddy for advice lmao.

Kind to a fault to strangers and those she loves until you cross her, when you’ll receive the worst roasting of your life lol. Holds a grudge.

Random facts: Classically trained singer. Plays piano, guitar and violin, the latter of which her father taught her from a young age. Both of her parents jobs always fascinated her, and she nearly went to school to study music, before fully deciding she wanted to become a doctor, incorporating her love of science.

Speaks fluent Greek and French, can also hold a conversation in German and Spanish.

Suffers with anxiety and PTSD after the attack on the senator. Has an especially dark sense of humour to cope with her trauma and has since turned into a major pessimist.

Book lover and movie geek. Has a secret Marvel tattoo that her scrubs cover and Ethan found when they were first properly acquainted lol.

Has multiple small and dainty tattoos, all with a deeper meaning behind them.

Musical fanatic - could perform the full Hamilton show by herself.

*****

Author’s Note: Meet Teddy! I never named my MC and gave her any real background bc I wrote my first Open Heart fic in less than an hour and just went with Casey Valentine bc it was the default and I think that name actually suits the oph MC hahaha. She’s just the exact same insane MC I’ve been writing with a new name. I wanted to give my girl a proper introduction since I have a new series coming and I’m not getting off the Ethan train anytime soon so here she is lol!

Shoutout to @jamespotterthefirst for the super helpful MC template and @lsvdw-blog for helping me with Teddy’s story!

Idk why I wrote so much for this 😂 it was fun creating a little word for her and I got carried away lol.

Tagging perma and OH just in case you’re interested but feel free to ignore this bc it’s pretty pointless lol.

@charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @forallthatitsworth @ao719 @burnsoslow @mia143 @stateofgracious @mainstreetreader @emkay512 @jerzwriter @lsvdw-blog @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @ohchoices @schnitzelbutterfingers @starrystarrytrouble

#open heart #choices open heart #teddy valentinos #ethan x teddy #kt tries to write

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crow-crypt · 3 years ago

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Ok, tma au under the cut

This is a LONG one

This contains major spoilers for both the Magnus Archives (mainly the finale) and the Hatchetfield series

Post canon Jmart end up in Hatchetfield pre TGWDLM. Jon for obvious reasons ends up in the hospital, as does Martin. Martin is questioned by the police because.. Y'know.. Stabbing. Meanwhile, Jon meets Becky and they hit it off right away. Becky feels bad for the homeless British guy who got stabbed by his boyfriend and offers him a place to stay. She's understandably put off by him asking if Martin could stay with them and wants to say no but Martin doesn't SEEM like a malicious guy and he and Jon seem to love each other a lot, so she agrees. Now they're roommates.

Ok, so, the Lords in Black already exist before the fears arrive in this dimension, just with WAY less power. When the fears end up in Hatchetfield, they kind of give the Lords in Black more power. The Apotheosis, Black Friday, etc. are all rituals like the ones in TMA and can be stopped, but since its not necessarily the Fears anymore, there's more concern over how successful the rituals are because they could end the world.

Now let's get into TGWDLM. Jon still has ties to the Beholding and can still Know things, but his powers are way more limited and similar to his power in season 3. He doesn't need statements anymore and can sustain himself gaining knowledge of the new universe that's different from his own. Jon, with the help of Becky managing to pull some strings, gets a job at a local library. Martin gets a job at Beanies and befriends Emma through the power of bitching about customers together. When the meteor hits, Jon Knows that something bad is going to happen. Becky isn't necessarily aware of Jon's powers or he and Martin's past, but she knows something is up. Jon tells Martin about what he found out and talks Becky out of going to work. Martin wants to warn Emma, and they end up at Beanies during the Cup of Roasted Coffee scene. Jon, Becky, and Martin end up joining the main group of TGWDLM, but Jon once again Knows about someone who may be able to help fix everything. That's how they end up with Hannah! They go to Hidgen's, Jmart aren't a fan of him, Charlotte gets infected and they deal with her. Jon goes with Paul and Bill to get Alice. Alice survives because I make the rules and I say so. (On an unrelated note, Paul has a sexuality crisis when he finds out asexuality is a thing.) They go back, save Emma, Martin, Ted, Becky, and Hannah and get the hell out of there. They get out on the helicopter (without Zoey, thank you very much) and figure out a way to fix everything (probably because of Webby). Everyone who got infected, regardless of when, don't remember that day (and the days that followed while they figured out a solution.)

In between BF and TGWDLM, things are pretty calm compared to what everyone's dealt with. The group of "survivors" become very close and everyone is now well aware of Jon's powers. Jon and Hannah in particular get a sort of parent-child dynamic. Lex is kind of confused about the very scarred man her younger sister has latched on to but he seems nice enough.

Black Friday rolls around and Jon has been dreading it ever since he was oh so kindly informed about the Very Evil Doll. Jon and Martin are unaffected by Wiggly (why would they be? They're, surprisingly, the happiest they've been in years.) Jmart tag along with Becky (who's still under Wiggly's influence) in an attempt to stop ANOTHER ritual. This time, they're much more concerned, because they don't have as many allies as they did last time. Jon and Martin, knowing they'll be outnumbered in the toy store, end up looking for Hannah instead. Due to there connection to PEIP and Hannah's "two doors, not one" Jon is able to stop Xander from attempting to bomb Wiggly. The rest continues as normal, with Becky and Tom rekindling their romance, Lex getting Tom out of Wiggly's influence, and Becky stopping the ritual. Ethan also survives because I say so.

After all of this, some of the Nightmare Time stories still happen (TWITW, WW, HAM, probably some S2 ones that I haven't seen yet) Jmart dont really play a role in these except for probably TWITW.

That's all I have now, and feel free to do whatever you want with this. I binge wrote this out of pure boredom so there's a ton I could have explained better but I'm lazy.

#tma #starkid #the magnus archives #tgwdlm #black friday #hatchetfield #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #hannah foster #becky barnes #paul matthews #emma perkins

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jamespotterthefirst · 3 years ago

Note

Continuing on the Allensey Wedding theme, I just went over the moodboards and head canons you had posted previously (they’re beautiful). Now I have follow up questions:

Who gave the speeches and did anyone roast Ethan and/or Lilac?

Did Lilac walk down the aisle by herself or did her dad/parents give her away? (Not sure that’s a thing in her culture/tradition).

What did their cake look like and how did it taste, flavors, vase, etc.? Did it get the Sienna Seal of Approval?

What surprised them or delighted about how their families and friends got along during the wedding ceremony?

I know what they danced to, but did they have a DJ or band for the rest of the reception? What was the vibe for the party?

How long after their wedding did they go on the honeymoon trips?

Lovely Mal! Thank you so much for going through that tag and for sending these! They're so much fun to answer for me, you have no idea!

Who gave the speeches and did anyone roast Ethan and/or Lilac?

The best man, Naveen, and the Maid of Honor, Sienna, gave speeches. Naveen definitely roasted Ethan. This man had been waiting to do that for years. It was a big "I told you you were into Lilac from year one" speech lol.

Lilac's brother and sister also gave a speech. And of course they roasted her. Lilac would have been disappointed if they hadn't lol.

Did Lilac walk down the aisle by herself or did her dad/parents give her away? (Not sure that’s a thing in her culture/tradition).

Her father gave her away (it's also tradition!). Lilac did a pretty good job holding it together but then she saw her father cry and she couldn't hold back her own tears.

What did their cake look like and how did it taste, flavors, vase, etc.? Did it get the Sienna Seal of Approval?

I'm a huge fan of "naked cakes" so that's what I gave them

The flavors were Chocolate Champagne, Strawberries and Cream, and a separate tier of Tres Leches.

Sienna was there at the cake tasting lol. All flavors met her rigorous standards.

What surprised them or delighted about how their families and friends got along during the wedding ceremony?

It was nice to see everyone party and revel together, especially on the dance floor. I think the most pleasantly surprising thing was how her non-Latine friends danced to Latin music during the reception and were not bad at it. Most surprising was Alan lol. Least surprising was Bryce.

Lilac's family made Naveen take tequila shots with them and they were blown away by how well he threw them back lol

I know what they danced to, but did they have a DJ or band for the rest of the reception? What was the vibe for the party?

They had a band for dinner but a DJ for the party. The vibe was "let's get the groom drunk enough to let loose and kill it on the dance floor because the bride's family brought authentic tequila--the good shit-- all while getting drunk ourselves"

How long after their wedding did they go on the honeymoon trips?

They went on the first one, the Mayan Riviera, right away. They left a day after the wedding.

Ahhh! These were so fun! Thank you so much beautiful Mal!

#Ethan x Lilac #Allensey wedding

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terrm9 · 4 years ago

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Everywhere I Go (Ethan X MC)

Words count: 3 800

Warnings: none? I feel like this is absolutely harmless but if you find something worth warning, let me know please

Few weeks after making their relationship public, Ethan decides to take Chiara with him to Providence.

Set few weeks after the gala, so in the first half of Chapter 18 I guess?

Author’s note: This follows the Count Me In fic, so for the better experience, I recommend to read that first. However, if you don’t want to, it is readable as a one shot too. I love Alan Ramsey and I just want him to be happy okay? I kind of broke my own heart while thinking about how unfair life is towards him

“And that’s why my sister is not talking to me now,” Bryce ended his speech with his typical wide grin, shrugging carelessly as he finished eating his fries.

Both, Chiara and Elijah burst out into loud laugh, attracting the attention of every other person in the cafeteria. The story itself wouldn’t be that funny, however the way Bryce didn’t hesitate to give them a detailed description of Keiki’s face expressions caused happy tears to fall from Chiara’s eyes, as she couldn’t contain her giggles.

“Oh crap,” Chiara muttered when her ringing phone interrupted the cheerful atmosphere at the table. “It’s Ethan.”

“Calling as a doctor or as a booooyfriend?” Bryce teased her, gaining an eye roll from Chiara in return.

Before she picked her phone up, she checked her pager, making sure that Ethan didn’t try to get her attention through it without her noticing. It was greatly uncommon for him to call her while they were both working, especially when calling her meant talking about not-work-related topics.

“Hello?” she picked up at last, confusion audible in her voice.

“Rookie,” she could see Ethan nod at the other side of the line as he spoke. “Where are you? I wanted to talk to you.”

“Uhm, I am having lunch in the cafeteria with the boys. Why? Do you need me for something? You could’ve paged me.”

“It’s not about work. Just wait for me, okay? I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Without giving her a chance to ask more questions or even respond with an ‘okay’, Ethan hung up, leaving her terribly worried about his reasons to call her.

No matter how urgent their private issues seemed, they always managed to bring them home with them, to talk about it after their shifts. When they were at work, they were working. It was that simple for them, a rule that has hardly ever been broken.

“He called as a boyfriend,” she spoke finally, noticing how both, Bryce and Elijah were looking at her with their eyebrows raised. “He will stop by.”

Just as she said that, the door to the cafeteria opened and Ethan stopped just for a second, searching the room with his eyes for a sign of the young redhead he needed to see. Against his better judgement, he smiled as he finally spotted her, cheeks flushed from the laugh she has just had several minutes ago.

Chiara noticed how some residents and even one attending stared as Ethan crossed the room, obviously ignoring the fact that he was about to sit next to the woman he kissed at the gala few weeks ago. They stared with hearts in their eyes and wishful smiles at their faces and even if it was embarrassing to admit, Chiara knew that their expressions mirrored her own.

“Chiara I think you might be drooling,” Bryce whispered, causing Elijah to laugh loudly for the second time in ten minutes.

“Hey,” Ethan smiled softly at her as he sat down next to her and then nodded in boys’ direction. “Bryce, Elijah.”

“Well helloooo, my fav buddy,” Bryce grinned and patted Ethan’s shoulder enthusiastically. “How ya doin’?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ethan muttered: “Lahela stop please”, while Chiara laughed, shaking her head.

“What has gotten into you today, Bryce? Do you need to replace a single ‘o’ with several annoying ‘oooo’s’ in every word?”

Shrugging carelessly again, Bryce opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Elijah put his arm on Bryce’s shoulder and gestured towards the door.

“I think we should go before you extend the list of people not talking to you.”

Even though unhappy with the suggestion, Bryce agreed and a minute later, Chiara and Ethan were left alone to discuss whatever Ethan came to discuss.

“So? What is bothering you?” Chiara asked openly.

“Nothing is bothering me,” Ethan replied, not quite looking at her, instead reaching for her hand on the table, interlacing their fingers together.

Chiara was aware of people observing them and of the fact that such gesture of affection would cause yet another wave of gossips in the hospital.

Ethan couldn’t care less about what would people say at this point. Ever since their kiss, people were talking about them and it didn’t really matter what Chiara and Ethan did or didn’t do.

They were holding hands now and so people would talk about Dr. Do-Not-Talk-To-Me being whipped. If they didn’t hold their hands, people would talk about troubles in paradise because ‘they didn’t even touch while talking’.

“I am going to visit my father in Providence this weekend.”

“Oh,” Chiara opened her mouth, not quite believing that he would look for her only to tell her that he would be gone for the weekend. “That’s great! It’s been some time since you last visited Providence, right? Two days out of Boston and with your dad, it will be good for you.”

“The thing is,” Ethan spoke, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “You have a free weekend and-“

“I think I do, let me check,” Chiara interrupted him, reaching for her phone to check her calendar.

“You do, I already checked.”

Or rather, I made sure that you would have a free weekend.

“However, I wanted to ask you if, by any chance, you would want to go to Providence with me? I mean, I survived the brunch thing with your friends and now I would like to introduce you to dad.”

“I have already met your father, Ethan,” Chiara laughed softly. “Several times.”

“Yes, but that was different. I would like to, well, introduce you as a… woman I am dating.”

His cheeks were deeply flushed at this point, his hands gently squeezing her in steady rhythm, trying to calm his own nerves down.

“I would like that very much,” she smiled at him. “Is your dad going to roast me the way my friends roasted you?”

Ethan laughed, truly and openly laughed and replied: “God I hope so.”

With a quick kiss on the top of Chiara’s head, he stood up as his pager went off, leaving her to finish her lunch with a smile on her lips.

“Your dad know that I am coming with you, right?” Chiara asked nervously as she stepped out of Ethan’s car, looking at the house in front of her. It was painted in a light blue color, the bushes surrounding a path leading to the front door precisely trimmed.

“Of course. He texted me in the morning, saying that they were both looking forward to seeing you.”

“Both? Both who?” Chiara turned on her heels, her eyes wide with shock. Surely Louise wouldn’t be here today, would she? Her time in the rehab clinic wasn’t over yet.

“Dad and Jenner,” Ethan replied flatly, getting their bags out of the trunk.

A very audible sigh of relief left Chiara’s mouth at that, her mind instantly calming down at the picture of Ethan’s – or more Alan’s – dog. It would be their first meeting and Chiara was equally nervous about meeting Alan as Ethan’s girlfriend and meeting Jenner, knowing rather well that Jenner’s opinion mattered to Ethan more than opinions of most people.

Locking his car, Ethan took Chiara’s hand and led her to the front door, smiling down at her, all the tension that collected in his body for the past few weeks seemingly gone.

Ethan didn’t resemble the Dr. Ramsey at all at this moment, his form relaxed as he knocked on the door, quietly humming one of Frank Sinatra’s songs they listened to on their way here.

“Chiara, Ethan!” Alan smiled widely as he opened the door, letting them both come in. Before he could as much as hug Ethan, the ball of brown fur sprinted through the hall and as soon as Jenner spotted Ethan, he put both his front paws on Ethan’s torso, barking excitedly.

Chiara shook Alan’s hand and he kissed both her cheeks politely. “Lunch is almost ready,” he smiled and led her to the sunny living room, granting Ethan some time to catch up with his best friend.

Seated in a comfortable armchair, Chiara took her surrounding in while Alan left to the kitchen to make them a coffee. The room wasn’t big, the huge window dominating as it provided both, light coming into the room and a beautiful view to the garden.

Before Chiara could examine the photos on the top of fireplace, both Jenner and Ethan came to the room and it was her time to impress the dog.

“Hello there,” she smiled as she kneeled down, letting Jenner to sniff and then lick her palm. “What a good boy do we have here, hmmm? Yes, it’s you, of course it’s you.”

All the tension was gone at that point, Jenner happily licking not only her hands but also her neck and her face, Chiara laughing and rubbing his belly happily while Ethan stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed, smiling affectionately at the scene in front of him.

Seeing that his presence was no longer recognized, Ethan decided to help his dad to finish the lunch, hoping that maybe in their moment of privacy, he could make sure that there would be no embarrassing stories about his childhood shared today.

It was all for nothing.

As soon as they finished eating and moved back to the living room to have their afternoon tea, Alan grinned at the two young doctors seated on the couch next to each other, Ethan’s arm casually hugging Chiara’s shoulders.

“So… dating, huh? How long?”

Ethan blushed and cleared his throat, thinking about the right answer. “Few weeks,” he replied after all.

“And unofficially?”

Chiara laughed at the question, the fact that Alan indeed knew his son both surprising and delighting her. Not wanting to make Ethan angry or uncomfortable, she decided not to answer that.

“Few weeks,” Ethan repeated, although it was obvious that not a single person in the room believed that. “The gala I’ve been telling you about the other day? That would be it.”

The mention of gala served them well, giving them a chance to talk about hospital for a long time, about the fact that it wouldn’t be saved anyway, about their work at free clinic.

They both intentionally avoided talking about the future, about what would happen when Edenbrook closes for real. Alan was polite enough not to ask.

Chiara was nervously waiting for Alan to start asking questions. After the trick her friends pulled on Ethan, she deserved to be interrogated by him. She was dating a respected doctor, famous diagnostician and a rich man after all. It was rather natural for his parents – well, his father – to make sure that she wasn’t using him.

I just need to be honest and everything will be fine.

The interrogation never came. Instead, when it looked like it would come, Alan asked her the question she hoped to hear.

“So, Chiara. I doubt Ethan has told you much about his childhood. Do you want to hear the stories of troublemaker Ethan? I have my two favorites.”

“Dad, you have to be kidding me,” Ethan muttered, squinting his eyes on the older man.

Next to him, Chiara jumped on the couch of excitement, nodding. “Yes, please. Tell me anything embarrassing. Anything. He like to pretend that such moments never happened in his life.”

“Do you remember our fish, Ethan?” Alan smiled mischievously at his son and from Ethan’s expression, he knew exactly what was about to come.

“I was six!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms at his chest.

“My brother came to visit us one summer,” Alan turned to Chiara, ignoring Ethan’s remarks about betrayal. “He used to smoke a lot back then, however me or Louise weren’t smoking and so there was no ashtray in this whole house. I found an old mason jar and gave it to him, so that he could use that instead. We didn’t throw the whole mason jar away the moment he left the house and Ethan took his chance. At the time, we had this huge aquarium here in the living room, full of fish. There were, like, fifty fish in it and as a six-year-old, we let Ethan feed them so that he would learn about being responsible. One day, I got back from work and almost all of the fish were dead. Really, maybe seven or eight survived. And I was so shocked because it’s not common thing to happen and I asked Ethan if he fed them that day and without a second thought, he said that he did feed them with the ash Uncle Thomas left here, because he wanted to see how they would react. I still remember him saying ‘It’s a pity they died. But at least we are left with the strongest ones now.’”

“He didn’t do that,” Chiara laughed and turned to Ethan, waiting for his reaction. The shrug of his shoulders confirming that the story she just heard was right. “Well, some things never change. Your strategy with interns is pretty similar.”

“Yet, here you are. That makes you one of the strongest ones, you know.”

She smiled at him softly, knowingly and turned back to Alan, greedy for more.

“My absolutely favorite is the one about Perrie McKingsley.”

Ethan’s eyes widened once again and he shook his head abruptly, looking at his father. “Dad, really, that won’t be necessary.”

“Okay now I have to hear it,” Chiara grinned wickedly.

“He was ten or eleven at the time, I can’t quite remember. It was my grandmother’s death anniversary and even though, as great-grandmother to Ethan, she wasn’t a big part of his life, he always agreed to go to the cemetery with me at the anniversary. That year was no exception and so we bought this beautiful bouquet and put it on the grave. Little did I know that the next day was Perrie McKingsley’s birthday – she was Ethan’s classmate and his first crush. Very nice girl indeed. Ethan wanted to impress her but was too shy to talk to me about it, about what he could give her as a present and so he came up with a genius idea. That morning, he left the house early and stopped at the cemetery on his way to school. He took the flowers we put on the grave the day before and gave them to the poor girl. He would never tell the truth, but I met Perrie’s mother two days after that and she told me how thoughtful it was of Ethan to get Perrie such beautiful bouquet.”

Chiara had to cover her mouth with her hand to tame all the loud sounds leaving it when Alan finished the story. Tears streaming down her face, she had troubles catching her breath between the laughing.

“Who would believe that you were such a gentleman, Ramsey,” she spoke finally when she calmed down. “The girl was very lucky.”

“I am glad you are having fun, Rookie,” Ethan said dryly, trying his hardest to maintain his poker face, even though the truth was that seeing his Chiara this happy and free of worries, laughing with his father while petting Jenner, it was a picture he wished to remember forever.

The rest of the day was filled with small talks about Alan’s work and Jenner, about Chiara’s life back in San Francisco. Alan showed her all of Ethan’s photos, from the cute baby ones to the pretty awkward high school ones.

Ethan pretended to be annoyed by the fact that his dad and Chiara became such a good friends, finding their entertainment in Ethan’s suffering, however every time they were not looking, he was smiling like a fool, his chest full of this unfamiliar warm feeling.

He was asleep in his old room now and as much as Chiara tried to rest too, the sleep wouldn’t come to her.

She decided to get a water in the kitchen and give it another try later.

As she stepped downstairs, she was startled by the light coming out of the living room – it was past midnight.

“Chiara,” Alan smiled at her from the couch, the bottle of beer in his hand as he stared into the fire. “Troubles sleeping?”

She nodded and took a seat next to him, the water long forgotten.

“I was just thinking about Ethan,” Alan broke the silence, turning his eyes to her.

They were the same color as his son’s, the blue darker than the bright sky but brighter than the stormy one. His gaze was as intense too, as if he could see straight into her head, getting his answers without needing to ask questions.

The only difference was that his eyes were surrounded by happy wrinkles, the ones a person only gets when they smile too often.

Ethan’s wrinkled weren’t permanent around the corners of his eyes. He didn’t smile often enough. His signature wrinkles were the ones between his brows, the ones a person only gets when they worry too much.

“I am glad he’s found you, Chiara. I have never seen him so content. So in love.”

Chiara froze at his words. She froze at the ease he said them with.

“Oh, he’s… he’s not in love,” she laughed nervously. “He doesn’t believe in such things.”

“You are the first girl he has ever brought home with him,” Alan grinned. “Surely that speaks for itself.”

Shock overtaking her, Chiara forgot to close her mouth for a long moment.

“You are kidding. He is almost forty, I can’t be the first one.”

Alan laughed at her statement whole-heartedly, the sound so common for him and so rare to hear from his son.

“You are. And I know what he says, about me not really knowing him, but he is still my kid and I can assure you, he is so in love.” Alan took a deep breath, sipping his bear for a long moment. “The girl I was telling you about today, Perrie? She was his first crush, his first love, the first girl that made him blush when he spoke to her. The first to bring those ‘in-love’ sparks into his eyes. He was ten, a kid. The same kid he was at eleven, when Louise left. He’s never really gotten over that, over her leaving us and I don’t blame him. He was just a kid. The first time I have seen those sparks in his eyes, he was ten. The last time I have seen them, he was eleven. He was just a kid, he was just my baby son, when all those adult things happened to him and I blamed myself for so long that I couldn’t protect him from that hurt.”

Alan’s voice shook and he took another sip of his drink, steading himself so that he could finish his speech.

For the past twenty-six years, he has never said these words to anyone.

“I stopped believing that those would ever return. All the way through the high school, Ethan never even mentioned a girl. He avoided women, he didn’t trust them and who was I to change his mind? It was my wife leaving us after all. And then, in his med school he let it slip that there was a certain girl he was seeing, but talking about her didn’t bring those sparks into his eyes. He was twenty-three and he was less in love than a ten-year-old Ethan. There was something there when he told me about you for the first time, last year. His Rookie. I could see how his face lit up at the mention of you, how his lips turned up so slightly anyone but his father would miss it."

"He probably never mentioned it, but I was with Ethan two days before the gala and when he said that you two would go together to represent your team, that was when I saw those sparks again, Chiara. After twenty-seven years, I have seen my son’s eyes light up with the force only love could produce.”

Chiara was smiling and at the same time, she felt like crying.

Crying for a man Ethan could be, hadn’t he been broken.

Crying for Alan, losing his wife and his happy little boy at the same day.

“Ethan can be difficult, I know. But please, as his father and as a person who loves him more than he has ever loved anyone or anything, I beg you to be patient with him when things get difficult. Because you are the only person I have ever believed could make Ethan truly and unconditionally happy again.”

Chiara nodded, tears spilling down on her cheeks now and before she could do anything, Alan was hugging her.

“Goodnight, Chiara,” he smiled as he broke the hug. After wishing him a goodnight too, Chiara got back into the room Ethan was sleeping in and tried to get into the bed as quietly as possible.

“I am not sleeping,” Ethan muttered, turning to his side so that he could face her. With his curls disheveled around his head and sleepy eyes, he looked so much younger it almost surprised Chiara. “I’ve heard voices from downstairs.”

“Yes, I’ve been talking to your dad,” she whispered softly, deciding whether she should tell him the truth or not. Almost immediately, she decided to keep her conversation with Alan to herself. “There were many more embarrassing stories to be told, you know.”

“I don’t get how, no matter who we are with, I end up to be the embarrassed one. All the time. I was thinking about inviting Naveen over for dinner later this week, but I am strongly reconsidering now.”

“Oh my God, yes, that’s totally happening. Awkward intern Ethan, that would be my new favorite thing.”

“I have never been an awkward intern.”

“I think Naveen will be the judge of that,” she smirked, rolling Ethan on his back so that she could straddle him. He groaned at the idea of Naveen telling Chiara yet another story about his past. “Well, it’s not my fault that you are so embarrassable, Ethan.”

“That’s not even a word, Ray.”

“Uhm, it just left my mouth, so I guess it is now. I will text Naveen myself in the morning.”

She leaned down to kiss him, his hot body and soft lips making her mind race into dangerous territory.

“Don’t worry, once we visit my mom and sister, you will be satisfied. I bet Alicia has already my TOP 5 awkward moments written and ready to be shared,” she murmured between the kissed.

Ethan chuckled at that and biting her earlobe softly, he whispered: “I am booking the tickets to San Francisco right now.”

Taglist: @takemyopenheart @maurine07 @senseofduties @mercury84choices @flightlessbirdiee @udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @ohchoices @adrex04 @queencarb @archxxronrookie

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #alan ramsey #play choices

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years ago

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What’s For Dinner

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 1.6k Warning: Lil bit of romance at the end. Rated PG-15. Summary: Becca embarrassed Ethan at work and later that night he makes her pay for it.

Author’s Note: This one shot is inspired by @ohchoices prompt request 23. “You Always Look Beautiful” and 81. “Hello, Mr. Grumpy.” I also wrote this as part of @julychoiceschallenge Day 9 prompt “Space” and @wackydrabbles prompt “I don’t plan on stopping”. They’ll be underlined and in bold. Enjoy!

sorry for any mistakes i didn’t proofread or edit at all

Taglist: @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @aylamreads @binny1985 @ramseysno1rookie @interobanginyourmom @queencarb @perriewinklenerdie @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28 @choicesficwriterscreations @heauxplesslydevoted @schnitzelbutterfingers @purpledragonturtles @ramseyandrys @ermidc @mrsdrakewalkerblog @doilooklikeiknow @overwhelminglyaquarius

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Ethan stood in his kitchen cooking dinner with nothing but his deep navy work trousers still on. He had an early day at work and was preparing dinner in cold silence. Too deep in his spiraling thoughts to notice the click of the apartment door shutting and jingle of keys against the sideboard.

“Hello, Mr. Grumpy,” Becca cheerfully called from the opposite side of the kitchen island in the open-concept space as she took the day off.

She shimmied out of her skirt and unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse getting comfortable. Her black pencil skirt left abandoned on the bar stool and her heels and purse left by the front door. Coming home to Ethan always sent a surge of placidity throughout her body - an unique sense of veneration for the most mundane of things really.

Although they weren’t living together Becca had her own set of keys to Ethan’s bachelor pad and spent most nights there. She even has a section of the closet, a couple drawers throughout the home and everything in between. Neither kindred spirit wanted to give up the option of independence just yet. Becca also just couldn’t let go of her friends - the jokes and antics that could only transpire in their shared living space - and settling down with Ethan Ramsey seemed like something far off after residency anyway. After all, Ethan was much too old for some of their schemes.

Even with all the rustling and no intention from her of keeping things quiet, Ethan still paid her no mind.

Becca took in his stance. The muscles of his back defined and tense. He stood stoically, entranced by the food in front of him. Becca rolled her eyes at the sight and his blatant disregard for her.

“Are you seriously not speaking to me?” she asked incredulously.

With no answer she got her answer.

Her tongue pressed firmly in the side of her mouth out of frustration.

She lightly rounded the counter on the tips of her toes and bounded her way over to her lover, dangerously encroaching on his personal space. A light smile made its way unknowingly onto Becca’s lips at the smell of the last notes of his cologne mixing with the musk glistening off his skin as he slaved over the hot stove. He stood indifferent, a spatula in his right hand and pan handle in the other.

“That smells good,” Becca noted as she stared at the contents. Nutty and sweet wafts tickling the end of her nose.

Still no response from the statuesque man before her.

In defiance she reached her arm across him, making a point to brush her forearm across his pec to pluck a roasted carrot off a tray.

Looking up at him she took a dramatic chomp, “Tastes good too.”

Ethan kept his steely blue gaze on the food, not wanting to play into her antics.

She sighed without recognition.

Just like she does most times he’s cooking, Becca moved to stand behind Ethan and wrapped her arms around his taut abdomen, gently pressing her head against her lover’s back. The feeling of his warm skin against hers is something she’ll never tire of. It always felt as if she was standing under the sun rays on a clear day. A place where nothing else matters. And when they were pressed like this nothing did matter.

“What is it?” She asked as she kissed his shoulder blade.

Ethan involuntarily relaxed his rigid shoulders into her touch. As much as he wanted space to brute he just couldn’t stay mad at her. Not anymore. They’ve gotten to the point in their relationship where just one look from the other admonishes all of life’s worries and the day's tragedies. A deeper level of unconditional friendship - a deep fondness for the others' very existence.

He told her without a second thought, “Almond crusted salmon and roasted vegetables with a yogurt dressing.”

Becca nuzzled her nose into the soft space between his shoulder blades, “You’ve been busy.” It wasn’t unlike Ethan to make a ‘fancy’ and labor intensive meal for them, but his dedication to the culinary arts always surprised her.

Ethan rolled his eyes.

Becca let her hands fall from him and grabbed a few more carrots. Then she hopped up on the counter adjacent to the oven as munched.

“So… how was your day?” she asked knowing full well how a majority of his day went. They were on the same team after all, and she did unintentionally embarrass him completely in front of Baz, June, Zaid and Ines.

Out of the corner of his eye he let himself ogle her. The hem of her emerald green button down fell on the top of her thigh nearly meeting the nude lace of her holdup tights, the top four buttons undone to expose her nude bra, and the puffed sleeves deflated after the long day. Her hair was still straggly and falling over her shoulders. He wondered to himself if she lost her hair tie once again - it was rare her hair wasn’t thrown upwards the second her shift ended.

“Oh come on!” She exclaimed when he didn’t respond, “I didn’t mean to do it.” With a heavy sigh she added, “Nobody died, let’s move on. You can’t be mad at me forever.”

“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.”

Becca threw her hands melodramatically, “That’s worse!”

The corners of Ethan’s lips perked in amusement at the outburst. He let her throw her strop for a few moments. Once she angrily consumed the last of her snacks he turned the oven and hob off, going over and settling himself between her legs. How could he stay mad at the light in his life?

“How was your day?”

She shrugged, making a point not to look him in the eye, “Fine.”

“Just fine?” he asked inquisitively, a chipper glimmer in his eyes.

“Could be better,” she pouted.

“Oh?” Ethan caressed the soft skin of her inner thigh gingerly with the pad of his thumb.

Becca let her eyes close and savor his touch. Every time their bare skin met it felt like the first time. Her heart beat just one beat faster in anticipation of his next move - she’d be happy with just a peck on the cheek. Everything about Ethan Ramsey has lightning coursing through her veins. She let the peace it brought lull her into serenity.

Ethan moved closer so the front of his thighs were pressed up against the lower cabinets. His left hand placed itself firmly on her hip to ground himself as he nestled to place a kiss at the top of her neck right under her jaw. Instinctively Becca craned her head to allow him more access, eyes still shut.

His soft, never chapped lips were on her skin leaving a quick hot mark. Ethan didn’t pull away completely, his warm breath sending pleasant goosebumps up her back and he could feel the thigh muscle beneath his hand tense. He moved to place another kiss behind her ear.

Becca let a content sigh slip. She could feel his smirk as he took her lobe delicately between his teeth.

“Ethan…” she warned.

His right hand moved from her thigh and to her cheek, holding her head in place. She wasn’t getting out of this so easily. He began to tenderly pepper more sultry kisses down her neck.

And more along her jaw.

“How do you always look so beautiful?” he mused. Ethan’s mind was fogged by his senses, all consumed with the miraculous deity before him, he couldn’t tell if he said the words out loud or if they were still the soundtrack to his consciousness.

She started to feel weightless, thankful for his hold keeping her in this moment and leaning further into his large and calloused palm. Becca shifted slightly so his thumb fell along her idle lower lip, letting just the tip of his shallow nail between her pink stained lips. Her jagged breath now on his skin elicited a small shiver from him. Ethan growled when she brought his finger further into her mouth.

He began to kiss her cheeks.

Her forehead.

The sides of her nose.

Becca scooted to the edge of the counter-top letting Ethan’s presence keep her afloat. He took the hint and slipped his left hand up under her blouse, finally letting go of her hip to reveal red indents of his fingertips. He silently hoped they wouldn’t bruise while Becca hoped they would - a battle-scar of the pleasure that was to come.

Becca trailed her hands up his torso, letting them stop at the base of his neck. She opened her now hazy eyes.

Ethan felt the motion and pulled away.

Lustful light brown coupling with passionate shiny blue.

His eyes were heavy and full of love - the way he looked at her with an unmatched desire had her stomach aflutter. The harsh lines of his face smoothed over and he never looked more childish than he did when he was consumed by her. She was sure she had the same look reflected on her features.

“Ethan…” she breathed once more. Her eyes flicked to dinner forgotten on the stove with Ethan following quickly.

In response his right hand moved to the back of her head and tangled his fingers in her aged curls. He finally gave her the kiss she deserved. Hot, passionate, tender and mind numbing. Becca forgot everything happening and had happened and so did he. Their contact was the only thing keeping her from flying off to heaven.

“I don’t plan to stop,” Ethan moaned against her lips.

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masterlist

#open heart #choices open heart #open heart fanfic #choices fanfic #choices oph2 #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #oph ff #oph #ff

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brywrites · 4 years ago

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Sweet Sixteen

It’s @goldenalvez‘s birthday today and I wrote this a while back after hearing B said she didn’t have a sixteenth birthday party. I hope your day is joyful and that you never doubt how loved you are! Summary: Luke x Reader. In which Garcia learns the Reader never had a big birthday party and decides it’s time to change that.

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“Y/N!” Garcia calls, running into the kitchenette impressively fast for someone in stiletto heels. “Luke said you didn’t want a birthday party! This has to be a complete and utter falsehood, so I immediately came to get the truth from you!”

Y/N raises her eyebrows, trying not to spill the coffee she’s pouring into a mug. “Why would my boyfriend lie about that?” she asks, laughing. “I’m not really one for birthday parties,” she admits. “I haven’t had one in ages.”

“Not even when you turned twenty-one? Or sixteen?” Reid asks. “Outside of bat and bar mitzvahs, those are the two most widely celebrated years for birthdays in American culture and tend to be seen as major milestones.”

She shakes her head and sets the pot of medium roast back on the burner. “Of course you would know that. No, I didn’t do anything. When I was young I would have parties and eventually people just stopped showing up. It hurt more than not celebrating at all, so by the time I was sixteen I’d kind of just given up on all that. But I mean, it’s not like you had a big celebration either, right?”

Reid considers this as he pours his own coffee. “Well, by the time I was sixteen I was about to graduate college and most of the way through my first doctoral dissertation. I hadn’t planned on doing anything, but Ethan was at CalTech at that point too. He and my advisor got some of the graduate students in my cohort together and surprised me. It wasn’t anything big but it was the first time I’d celebrated my birthday with someone other than my mom. Ethan’s boyfriend made a cake and my advisor pretended not to notice when the grad students broke out the wine and let me have some.” He turns to look at her. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that sometimes it’s nice to share that moment with people. To let them celebrate you.”

“Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying Boy Wonder!” Garcia chimes in. “And it’s no secret that I throw the best celebrations of all time, so it’ll be so much fun!”

“I love you both,” Y/N laughs. “But I really don’t need a pity party from my boyfriend’s team, okay? I just want to spend a quiet day at home with Luke and Roxy. But I need to get back to White Collar. My team has a con-man to catch and that data isn’t going to analyze itself.” She takes her coffee and walks down the hallway to her own office with its computer screens and maps. It’s true, she is looking forward to spending time with her favorite person and favorite non-person this weekend. But she also doesn’t want to go through the effort of planning a party only to be let down again. And though the BAU have become close friends since she and Luke began dating, it would still feel strange to be surrounded only by people she had met through him. But who else would even want to come?

Y/N shakes the thought from her head. She has a job to do. She refocuses on combing through emails and phone records. Agents from her own team come in and out of her office to ask questions or give her updates or stay and joke for a little while. She spends almost twenty minutes chatting with Darcy about the latest episode of The Bachelorette and joins both her and Marika for lunch in the courtyard. The day passes quickly and by the end of it, they’ve located their suspect in San Diego and agents at the local field office are poised to make the arrest over the weekend. It’s a job well-done, and her unit chief, Ahmed, stops by to thank her on her way out. She’s happy to see all their hard work pay off, but she is happier still to see Luke waiting for her by the elevator.

“We did it!” she tells him. “The case is closed!”

He grins and wraps her in a quick hug. “I knew you would. Now we have two things to celebrate this weekend.”

They step onto the elevator and she laces her fingers through his. “I don’t see why everyone makes such a big deal about birthdays. They’re just another day. They come every year.”

“Okay, okay, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he relents. “I just want to make sure you know that if there is anything you want to do, your wish is my command.”

Y/N rests her head against his shoulder. He smells nice, his cologne a mix of tonka bean and spice and a hint of vanilla. It’s comforting and warm, just like him. He’s the one person who always makes her feel safe and at home. He drives back to their apartment where Roxy is all to eager to see them.

“Hello sweet girl,” Y/N coos, kneeling down to hug her after the Belgian Shepard nearly knocks over in her excitement. Roxy nuzzles against her shoulder, her tail sweeping back and forth. Luke feigns hurt at the affront of being greeted second. She takes Roxy out for a quick run around the block and returns to find Luke halfway through making dinner.

“Pastelón,” he explains. “It’s like… Puerto Rican lasagna. Plaintains, ground beef, cheese. It’s really good. My mom used to make it for my birthday.”

“Did you have traditions in your family for birthdays?” she asks. After six months together, there’s so much she’s still learning about him.

He shrugs. “We did when I was younger. My mom would cook dinner. If it was my dad’s birthday, she’d make flan, which I always hated. He would buy cheesecake for our birthdays. We’d invite our friends over and have a potluck party in the park across from the apartment. Tia Dolores next door made the best empanadas and my best friend’s dad used to grill plantains. My friends and I would run around the park and get into trouble. And every year we’d go around and everybody had to say one thing they loved about the person whose birthday it was.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“It was,” he says, putting the pastelón into the oven. “But after my dad left it was different.” This is a story she’s heard before – how his father had survived Vietnam but returned home from a brief deployment to Panama with a distant look that never quite went away. He didn’t know how to cope with the trauma and one day he just left. His dad had always been his hero and his mom’s hero – and so Luke had tried to be the same. Strong, reliable, brave. “It was hard for her. We stopped having all the neighbors over. But she always made pastelón, and she always told me what she loved about me.”

“I love that,” she says. Then, noticing the food on the counter she asks, “What are you going to do with all the leftovers there?”

Luke immediately returns to cutting plantains and beef. “I couldn’t make some for us and not give Roxy any.” She can’t help but giggle as his sincerity. Because of course he would make a special dish for her, too. That’s just who he is – he loves big and wide and without apology.

The next day, Luke is mercifully quiet about her birthday. He kisses her slowly when she wakes up and makes heart-shaped pancakes for breakfast, but doesn’t say a word. His smile tells her all she needs to her. He’ll make today about her without making a fuss. That’s all she could need.

But then she takes Roxy out for an afternoon jog, and when she returns the apartment looks completely different. String lights and streamers hang from the wall. Yellow paper flowers are carefully placed on tables and counters. The living room furniture has been rearranged to make extra space despite housing additional chairs from the kitchen.

Luke stands in the center of the living room wearing a burgundy shirt that she loves him in so much. The grin on his face is bashful, like she’s just caught him sneaking sweets from the pantry. “What’s going on?” she asks.

“I would just like to state for the record that this was not my plan, technically, and I was coerced under threat of serious bodily harm,” he says. There’s a knock at the door. Y/N shoots him a look, but he just holds his hands up in surrender, denying all responsibility for whatever is about to transpire.

She opens the door and comes face to face with her entire team. “Surprise!” they chorus.

“Wait, what?” She steps aside, completely stunned and they file into the apartment. “What are you doing here?” Ahmed is holding a plate of frosted cookies, Darcy and Marika both have well-wrapped presents tucked under their arms, and the rest of the White Collar Crimes unit look absolutely delighted to be there.

“You really thought none of us knew your birthday was coming up, Y/L/N?” Darcy asks. “We’re here to celebrate our favorite technical analyst, of course!”

“And one of our favorite people even if you weren’t our tech analyst,” Marika adds.

Before she can respond there’s another knock. Six of their neighbors are at the door this time, including the couple with the two twin boys who live above them, as well as her three former roommates. Everyone has some sort of food dish with them. And just when she thinks that they’ve never had this many people in their living room at once, the entire BAU shows up. Garcia holds a large frosted cake and a surprisingly large pink gift bag swings from her arm.

“Happy day of birth!” she declares, rushing in to set the cake down so she can hug Y/N.

“I don’t understand,” Y/N says. “I thought that-”

“You said you didn’t want a pity party,” Garcia interrupts. “This is not a pity party. This is a party of a bunch of people who love you and what to spend today with you.”

“But how did you do this?”

“I simply roped your beloved Newbie here into assisting me. He’s very good at keeping a secret you know.” Y/N glances back over at Luke, who smiles.

“Guilty as charged,” he admits. “I may have – under duress, of course – helped Penelope identify your closest friends and what their emails and social media accounts were. She sent out invitations and helped me set everything up.”

“We were cutting it a little bit close,” Garcia says, “since I only had twelve hours notice, but I think we pulled it off pretty well.”

So everyone here just showed up? With almost no heads up? She looks around the room at so many faces she’s come to know and love. “But why?” she asks.

Garcia’s face softens. “Because we love you, silly. I mean, everyone here does, clearly. A whole lot. And there were at least twelve more people I invited who couldn’t make but really wanted to be here. Expect emailed well-wishes from them soon.”

At a complete loss for words, she turns to Luke. He pulls her into a gentle embrace. “If you really don’t like parties, I promise to never do this again. But I want you to have one day where you feel special. I want you to know how much everyone here cares about you, and I want to celebrate the fact that you exist. Because I’m pretty happy that you were born today, and I’m even happier that you’re still here. I love you, Y/N. We all do.”

“I love you, too,” she says, fighting back tears. He kisses her forehead, and then all too soon she is being pulled away to socialize. Everyone seems so happy to see her. Everyone has kind things to say and jokes to tell and things to catch up on. There’s enough food to feed a small army, and soon everyone is eating and mingling and their apartment is filled with the pleasant sound of easy laughter and the thumping tail of a happy dog receiving all the attention she could dream of from Garcia and the two twin boys. They go through the ritual of lighting candles on Garcia’s giant pink cake and singing to Y/N, and for once she doesn’t hate it. She looks at the faces of all these people over the glow of the candles, singing to her just a bit out of tune, but looking at her with so much love. She closes her eyes and makes a wish and blows out the candles.

As Reid cuts the cake in the most mathematically equivalent ratio possible and Rossi helps hand it out, Luke pulls her aside. “I know that there’s some other gifts for you,” he explains, “but I helped put this one together, and it’s from all of us.” He hands her a small gift-wrapped rectangle and she opens it carefully. It’s a little salmon-colored notebook with her name on the front. Curious, she opens it, expecting to see blank pages. Instead, the pages are filled with handwritten notes that have been pasted onto them. There’s a note from every single person here, addressed to her. Some are shorter and others are longer, but every one appears to include what they most love about her. There are even a few typed ones that must have been printed out in advance. “Garcia and I made sure everybody signed it before they came, and we collected messages from your friends who couldn’t make it. I know it’s not anything fancy but-”

“Are you kidding?” she asks. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever given me.”

He smiles, his brown eyes shining, and it makes her heart soar. How lucky is she to have someone that loves her this much? Who would move mountains – under duress, of course – to make her happy like this. “Well that’s not all,” he says. “This one is from me.” It’s not a wrapped gift, but a card with flowers and a cupcake with a heart on the front that says, Happy Sweet Sixteen!

Y/N narrows her eyes in confusion. “Open it,” Luke insists. And so she does. It’s not a typical card – it has an extra page on the inside. And rather than a standard greeting card message, it is entirely covered in Luke’s handwriting. The 16 sweetest things about you, it reads at the top. It’s followed by a numbered list.

You’re the best listener. Anytime I need someone to talk to, you’re willing to sit with me. You pay attention to what people say and you are always happy to be a confidante and friend. I know I can trust you with anything.

You go out of your way to make people feel included.

You’re an exceptional kisser and I don’t have enough words to describe this because every time I kiss you I’m pretty sure my brain short-circuits.

You love well. There is always room in your heart for the people (and dogs) you meet and you always seem to know exactly what will make somebody feel loved when they need it most. You love me despite how much I love my dog.

You are the only person I love as much as I love my dog.

She looks up from the card, teary-eyed. “I can’t keep reading this or I’m going to cry,” she says.

“Well it’s your party, sweetheart” he chuckles. “You can cry if you want.”

She shakes her head. “Mm mm. Not today. Today I just want to be really really happy with the people who make really really happy.” Luke stands by her side as Garcia urges her to open gifts and eat cake with everyone. The frosting is nearly as delicious as the moment feels. Rossi brings out the wine and Y/N excitedly puts on the pair of earrings in Garcia’s large bag of gifts, which happen to be shaped like her favorite candy. And this, she thinks, is better than any party she could have dreamed of in the past. Maybe big parties aren’t always going to be her thing. And maybe birthdays don’t always need to be a huge deal. But it is nice – to be celebrated. To be reminded that she is incredibly loved, even when she herself doesn’t always realize it.

It’s the sweetest of days, and there’s no one else she would rather spend it with.

#fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #luke alvez

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