#four of my friends have given me the thumbs up that it's fine

[lettersandinkstains]

what if i actually finished hemlocks this year. and then fuckin. decide it's just not good enough and make it go through one more draft just to torture myself

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 5

in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho

You don’t call Spencer for four days. 

Spencer doesn’t call you for four days. 

It’s scary. 

There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else. 

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space. 

His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up. 

But you’re not quite there yet. 

And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy. 

The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting. 

“Hi.”

You barely recognize your own voice. 

It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting. 

“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”

That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either. 

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”

There’s a pause. 

“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”

“You want… to take me to a bar?”

“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“You could go without me.”

More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally. 

But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?

Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick. 

When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach. 

“I could. Is that what you want?”

No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment. 

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”

A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all. 

But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat. 

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat. 

“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”

“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself. 

Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position. 

All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him. 

Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass. 

Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that. 

So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step. 

------

The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy. 

Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you. 

Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea. 

Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence. 

All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes. 

“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”

You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there. 

“I’m waiting for friends.”

“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”

He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather. 

“I’m not drinking.”

“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”

You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do. 

“I’m not sad.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”

“I’m waiting for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue. 

“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”

“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”

Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder. 

“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”

You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out. 

Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person. 

You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now. 

Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.

“Those are the ones.”

“And why are they dressed for church?”

Church?

“They’re FBI.”

“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”

You almost snort. 

“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”

You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you. 

“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him. 

“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”

Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle. 

“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”

“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”

This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer. 

And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up. 

“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes. 

Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.  

“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What a weird man. 

There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that. 

“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”

You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind. 

“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”

Really, he’s stunning. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—” 

“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.

“Pretty boy?”

Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again. 

“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this. 

Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings. 

“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you. 

“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”

The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff. 

“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”

“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group. 

“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”

Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice. 

Soon, it’s just the two of you. 

“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond. 

“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.” 

You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high. 

“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”

He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”

From him, that hurts. 

It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.

“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”

Silence. 

“Then why did you come?”

His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice. 

“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”

You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud. 

Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing. 

Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset. 

“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”

You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.

Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running. 

Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears. 

You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream. 

Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care. 

Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right. 

How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?

Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you. 

You feel like you might throw up. 

“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away. 

You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking. 

You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is. 

“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”

Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying. 

“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”

“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”

You sob harder. 

Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette. 

“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”

The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you. 

“Hey—you okay out here?”

“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”

Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection. 

“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”

Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you. 

Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them. 

“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”

You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”

“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You sniff again. 

“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”

Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.  

“Will do.”

When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale. 

“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”

You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice. 

“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive. 

“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”

Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more. 

Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby. 

“I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”

You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again. 

“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”

“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”

Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink. 

“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”

Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.  

“Did he tell you that?”

“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”

There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words. 

“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”

Your nose wrinkles. 

“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk. 

“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”

“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup. 

“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”

You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant. 

“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”

“He already was,” you admit. 

“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”

He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it. 

“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”

“It was really out of character for him,” you concede. 

“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”

“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”

“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done. 

“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”

You balk.

“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”

Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you. 

Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him. 

“I have to go wash my hands.”

It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom. 

Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta. 

Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever. 

There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side. 

“You in there?” 

Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup. 

The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?

“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing. 

“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”

Yes. 

The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating. 

“Nope. Just washing my hands.”

This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him. 

Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate. 

You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed. 

Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive. 

Spencer attempts to speak again. 

“What I said before, it was—”

“Can you just take me home?” 

It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face. 

You don’t know where it comes from, either. 

Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms. 

Too scared. 

The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too. 

You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room. 

“Yeah. I can.”

Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final. 

It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home. 

That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do. 

Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing. 

A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet. 

“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”

“Okay.”

But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move. 

If only time would freeze before he could walk away. 

But it doesn’t. 

He sucks in a decisive breath. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. 

It’s that fucking phone call all over again. 

Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.

Your time is up. 

-

part 5.5

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully. 

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly. 

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones. 

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning. 

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances. 

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders. 

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.” 

“What if it freaks him out?” 

“It’ll be fine.” 

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?” 

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum. 

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing. 

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.” 

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute. 

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.” 

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct. 

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes. 

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more. 

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song. 

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.” 

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?” 

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago. 

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie. 

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room. 

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child. 

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room. 

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment. 

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days. 

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has. 

“No fucking way!” 

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it. 

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony. 

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat. 

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck. 

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.” 

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.” 

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?” 

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.” 

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.” 

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads. 

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won. 

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?” 

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun. 

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them. 

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious. 

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin. 

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake. 

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body. 

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man. 

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught. 

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?. 

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-( 

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots. 

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Unimportant. 

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice? 

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons. 

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at. 

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone? 

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying. 

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face. 

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?” 

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.” 

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine. 

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.” 

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin. 

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?” 

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.” 

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care. 

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his- 

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk. 

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment. 

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite. 

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg. 

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight. 

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been. 

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.” 

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone. 

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you. 

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.” 

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon. 

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python. 

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.” 

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder. 

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time. 

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.” 

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is. 

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth. 

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk. 

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now. 

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first. 

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly. 

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.” 

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left. 

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice. 

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight. 

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder. 

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume. 

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this. 

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with. 

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend. 

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.” 

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways. 

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent. 

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.” 

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.” 

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy. 

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it. 

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-” 

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up. 

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy. 

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.” 

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering. 

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise. 

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built. 

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?” 

“No.” 

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.” 

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.” 

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly. 

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly. 

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you. 

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this? 

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off. 

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?” 

And for a second, you almost do. 

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still. 

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.” 

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why. 

You’d started this without even considering the consequences. 

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?” 

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this. 

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down. 

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!” 

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars. 

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it. 

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest. 

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin. 

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt. 

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?” 

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens. 

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple. 

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples? 

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.” 

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?” 

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin. 

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend. 

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity. 

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree. 

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well. 

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind. 

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-” 

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?” 

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and- 

Wait. 

Eddie was smiling. 

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together. 

He’s just smiling. 

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression. 

“Yeah.” 

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Maybe not. 

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.” 

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?” 

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.” 

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles. 

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious. 

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.” 

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.” 

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.” 

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism. 

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken? 

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief. 

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from? 

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple. 

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.” 

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.” 

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.” 

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you. 

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing. 

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him. 

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front. 

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.” 

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?” 

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on. 

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.” 

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.” 

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely. 

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.” 

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him. 

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it. 

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to. 

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already. 

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat. 

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it. 

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is. 

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that. 

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster. 

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment. 

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation. 

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics. 

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.” 

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.” 

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine. 

“Eddie.” 

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret. 

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him. 

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile. 

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone. 

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible. 

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely. 

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at. 

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?” 

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both. 

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.” 

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?” 

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.” 

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.” 

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?” 

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains. 

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.” 

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage. 

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT? 

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?” 

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.” 

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur. 

“What do you mean not yet?” 

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck. 

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake. 

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?” 

“Oh, fuck me.” 

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings. 

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat. 

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish. 

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S? 

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother. 

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?” 

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.” 

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-” 

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession. 

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus. 

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it. 

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles. 

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones. 

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind. 

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap. 

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut. 

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed. 

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.” 

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him. 

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?” 

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back. 

“Almond croissants.”

[trippinsorrows]

without you + one

authors note: hi, friends! so this is a foundational first chapter, meaning its intended to lay down a blueprint. there may or may not be some foreshadowing.....

but let me just say this. i have no intentions on drastically changing anyone's characterization from book one. e.g. joe has always only had eyes for reader. that won't change. he's all about his family.

do not read this story if you haven't read 'with me'. it won't work as a standalone.

warnings: language, some angst, fluff, and suggestive themes

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

words: 5k

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since your life was forever changed in a night of pure magic.

Two weeks since the love of your life proposed to you in the most beautiful way in the most beautiful place on earth surrounded by the most beautiful people.

Just thinking about it still brings on chills and goosebumps. It might just be one of the happiest nights of your life. 

And even returning home, being with your family, enjoying your pregnancy has continued on the theme of love and contentment. 

It’s almost nearly perfect except for one little thing. One tiny little human you just so happened to have created who seems to think that she has first dibs on a certain fiancé of yours at any given point and time.

Callie has been loving every single second of Joe being home on indefinite leave, and while you’re happy for her, happy for him that they have the time to spend together, it’s like she wants to spend all of her time with Joe.

And that’s fine, except for the fact it’s like she doesn’t want you around at all.

They’re playing tea party and she hits you with the, “mommy, it’s for daddies only.”

He’s having her help him cook, and she hits you with, “mommy, you can’t cook.”

She’s suckered him into watching Moana with her for the 18th time, and she hits you with, “mommy, I wanna watch it with daddy.”

Sis is beyond possessive. It’s gotten to the point where you almost feel jealous of your own damn child. An absolutely asinine thing to think, let alone feel.

It’s why when Joe jogs down the steps after getting her down for her nap, you grab him by his shirt and yank him into the office. 

He’s understandably confused. “Y/N, what the hell?”

You bring your finger to his mouth, silencing him. “Not so loud. You’ll wake her up.”

“And?”

Lord, Jesus. This may be harder than you thought. “And she needs her sleep, and we need time to talk.”

That seems to help him reason a bit better. “Okay.”

Pouting, you take him by surprise, shuffling into his chest as his arms naturally move around you. “I miss you.”

He chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “I’ve been here, baby.”

“You know what I mean.” Pulling back, he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip. “I miss spending time with you. Just the two of us.” Realizing how that could sound, you quickly clarify. “Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing you spend so much time with Callie, and obviously, she loves it too. But your lil’ bodyguard doesn’t seem to want mama to have any time alone with daddy.” 

And it’s the truth. It fills your heart with so much joy to see the beautiful bond and relationship they’ve developed in not even a year. They’re inseparable. 

But that doesn’t negate the fact that you miss spending time with him too.

“And we haven’t had sex since in over a week. A week, Joe. I can’t go that long without your dick. You know this.” He smiles, big hand laying on your baby bump. Like this shit is funny. Like it’s amusing that you’re going through dickdrawl. “That’s not funny, you asshole. If I have to make myself come one more time instead of you, I might just lose my shit.”

“I get it,” he finally shares, hand moving along the small of your back. “I miss you too. Miss my pussy…”

His voice drawls into something teasing, and it makes your pussy flutter. See, just his voice alone has you feening. Groaning, you mutter, while trying to settle yourself, “and it doesn’t help that she’s been sleeping with us.”

Calista is only four-years-old, so it’s natural for her to want to sleep with you and Joe. And you don’t mind that, don’t mind giving her that comfort. It’s just that it’s been every night since you returned from Disney. Not only that, when Joe gets up, she likes to get up. Even to the point where he'll just be working out in the gym, and she still wants to be around him, sitting on the floor talking to him or just playing on her tablet.

She’s even fallen asleep one time in the gym, with him having to stop his workout to bring her to her bed that she woke up from and managed to scamper her cute self right back into bed with you.

It’s just been…..a lot in some ways.

He nods, suddenly suggesting, “maybe we can try talking to her.”

“And what are we supposed to tell her, huh?” You’re legitimately all ears for any recommendations on how to word it. “Callie Bear, you’re spending too much time with your daddy.” Even saying it in a mocking tone feels wrong, giving you a sort of itch. “I’m not trying to have our child in therapy because of shit we caused her.”

“And you say I’m dramatic.” He rolls his eyes, emphasizing his point. “She’s a smart kid. I think if we just talk with her about how we have to share time with each other—”

“Ha. Share. That’s funny. That girl don’t wanna share you with air, let alone another human being.” It’s a partial joke, partial truth. A frown suddenly falls on your face as you think this over more. “You think something’s going on with her?” 

If you didn’t have his attention before, you definitely have it now. “What do you mean?”

Shrugging, you do your best to explain what you don’t quite fully understand. “I don’t know. She’s always been super attached to you, but it’s been more intense lately. Like she’s holding on even tighter. Like—”

“Like she’s scared to let go,” he finishes for you, deep voice settling into something almost despondent. “You think she’s scared I’m gonna leave or something?”

It’s a bit of a stretch but also something you can’t entirely rule out. “Maybe.” With a new sort of determination, you advise. “You’re right. We do need to talk to her.” And for completely different reasons than when you first dragged him in for that conversation. You just want to make sure your baby girl is okay.

That’s the only thing that matters.

On the topic of Callie, you’re reminded of something. “Oh my god.” Gasping, you move away from him. “I didn’t get a chance to show you.”

Curious, he asks, “show me what?”

You reach for his hand, walking over to the desk that’s almost entirely done with being set up and open the first drawer. Grabbing the still unopened envelope, you reach it to him, a small smile on your face. “I wanted to let you open it.”

Joe is understandably confused until he flips the envelope over and sees the sender. His expression immediately softens. “Is this—”

Nodding, you share, “it came in the mail yesterday, but it just slipped my mind to tell you.” He doesn’t say anything, instead focused on opening the envelope as he carefully pulls out the certificate.

Callie’s new and updated birth certificate. 

Moving closer to him, you snuggle yourself into his chest as he uses one hand to open and read the document you two have been waiting on for nearly a month now. Everything has stayed the same except for one section, that one section bringing on all of the feels for him. For both of you. 

Father/Parent’s Name.

The section that was once blank now reads in printed, black, unerasable ink: Leati Joseph Anoa'i. 

You can just feel the immense love and happiness emanating off his big being. He doesn’t need a piece of paper to tell him that he’s Callie’s father. You know that. But this is the piece of paper that gives him all the legal rights as Callie’s father, the rights he should have had from the very beginning. 

Holding onto him just a little tighter, loving him a little harder, you murmur against his chest, “now it’s always as it should have been.”

—---------

“I’m thinking strippers. One on each side of the aisle. Shawty throwing ass to the left, and shawty shaking titties on the right.”

Any conversation with Alexis is bound to venture into the deepest parts of fuckery, but this has to be a new level. “You want me to have strippers at my wedding?”

She’s looking at you like she can’t understand what’s so crazy about her proposal. “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

Eyes widening, you lean over the counter that’s littered with countless bride magazines and her Macbook Air. “It’s my wedding, Lex.”

“And?” She shakes her head, stirring some of her chocolate pudding. “You love strippers.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I want them at my wedding.”

She’s rolling her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she murmurs, “if you wanted to have a boring ass white people type wedding, you should have just said that.”

You laugh. Wedding planning was always something you imagined doing with your closest friends, and while you’re thankful to have Alexis here as your support and interim wedding planner (because you’re still very much on the fence about that), her tendency to do the most is definitely obscuring her view of logic and what makes sense.”

“I don’t want a white people wedding, per se. I just don’t want anything too crazy.” That’s the best description you can give, because this is all so new to you. You naturally play with the stunning engagement ring on your finger. Part of that confusion is because you’re still a bit stuck on the fact that you’re actually engaged.

To the literal love of your life, at that.

A dream that’s become a reality.

It still feels a little too good to be true.

“Fair, I guess.” She doesn’t seem to agree that it’s fair but won’t push either. “Well, have you at least thought about where you want to get married?”

That, you actually have. Once upon a time, it was in your hometown. Now, you’d rather not get married at all if that was your only option. “I’m thinking here.”

“Florida?” You nod. “Wow. Okay, any particular reason why?”

Shrugging, you answer, grabbing a chunk of pineapple from your fruit bowl. “I don’t know. Joe’s family is already here. It’s easy for my mom to catch a flight out. And anyone else I’d like to attend would have to fly here too anyway. Plus, this place is really beautiful.”

The fact that life has only been up since moving here to be with Joe is a major plus too. But, that doesn’t necessarily feel like it needs to be outright stated.

“Got it.” She starts typing on her laptop, and you have no doubt she’s already created a Google Doc to track everything. It’s one of many things you love about Alexis. She may be crazy as hell, but when she’s on it, she’s on it. “Now, the biggest thing, maybe the most important thing, is gonna be the date.”

“Date?”

She nods, “yeah, like when you want to have the wedding.” 

Fuck. As silly as it may sound, you hadn’t even thought about that. Still so caught up in the high of actually being engaged to your soulmate. 

Alexis continues, “I’m guessing after the school arrives.”

You roll your eyes. “What did I tell you about calling them that?” 

“Okay, the brood.”

“Alexis!”

She throws her hands up. “Don’t get mad at me cause the freaks freaked too much and now ya’ll starting your own little tribe.”

A heavy sigh leaves your mouth as Alexis continues to go in on you over your multiples pregnancy. For the most part, you’ve really come to accept and be okay with it. There are times though where your mind gravitates toward the childbirth portion, and your vagina literally starts to ache at just the thought of that trauma. 

Shaking your head and pushing away those thoughts, you return to the conversation at hand. “That’s a good point. I don’t want to walk down the aisle big and pregnant.”

“Exactly.” She types some more. “When is Joe going back to work?” Another great question that you don’t have the answer for. “Oh my god, Y/N, girl, just what do you know?”

“He just said it was indefinite leave!” You throw out in defense of your lack of knowledge. “Definitely not before the babies get here, so after September?”

“And you know he’s not gonna leave you alone with three newborns to take care of, so I can see him staying off air for at least a couple more months.”

That makes sense. “But, he’ll have to be back in time for WrestleMania, I’d imagine.”

“Most definitely. Didn’t you see that one promo he did? Roman Reigns is WrestleMania.” A smile falls on your face. You most definitely did see that promo. It’s one of your favorites that he’s cut. “But the next one isn’t until April, I think.”

“So maybe January?” The smile shifts into a scowl. “He can’t be gone that long though. The fans would lose it.” Thinking back to the Smackdown clips you saw on social media, you point out, “they’re already chanting ‘we want Roman.’”

It’s a bit bittersweet seeing Smakdown clips without Roman, seeing someone else hold his championship belt. But then you think about what that sacrifice gave you, what Joe giving up his title has awarded you, and it takes away some of the sting of it all.

You also feel a bit better knowing Joe is still playing an active role in the Bloodline, just behind the scenes. 

She sucks her teeth. “Ain’t that about a bitch? They fake asses acting like they weren’t the main ones wanting Cody to finish the story.” Alexis' borderline anger makes you laugh a little. “Oooh, Joe nice, cause the way I would give them the middle finger, retire, and live out my life with my fine ass wife and 12 children.”

Your eyes widen. “Don’t even put that out there, please.” You've definitely learned now about the power of the tongue. “If I was carrying any more than three children, I might just die.”

“Naw. Childbirth would do that for you.”

“Alexis!”

“Shit, sorry, too dark?” Lord, this girl really has no filter sometimes. “Do you guys want more kids after this? Like, forreal?”

Alexis, despite all of her shenanigans, seems to be on point with the questions. “I don’t know—”

“You don’t know?” That seems to be the answer that actually has her floored the most out of anything else ya’ll have discussed this afternoon thus far. “Bitch, this man put three children in you. Three. You really trying to risk that happening again?”

“Of course not. I just—I don’t know. I don’t think I can really answer that right now. Maybe once we learn the sexes, cause what if they’re all girls?” The likelihood of that happening has to be slim to none, but just like multiples of this quantity can be an anomaly, so can all of one sex. “I want to give him a son.”

Truthfully, you’re praying hard that at least one of them is a boy. You know Joe will love the kids the same. Fully and without inhibition, regardless of sex. But, not only do you want to have a little boy for your own reasons, but being able to continue on Joe’s lineage, maybe even passing down his name to your son would mean even more.

Of course, Alexis is quick with the dumbass suggestion. “Make one of them a tomboy.”

You close your eyes, forcefully stabbing the next chunk of pineapple. “Alexis, I swear to God.”

She leans back in her seat, adjusting her top. “All I know is if you think I’m babysitting four kids, you are sadly mistaken. I’ll take care of my little Cal Gal, but these other newbies are gonna have to prove themselves.”

“Newbies? They’re gonna be literal babies, Lex.”

“And? My beef is rated E for everyone, newborn babies included.”

Lord, this woman is giving you a headache. “I guess there’s a lot I still need to discuss with Joe first before we actually get into planning.”

“Agreed.” It’s a conversation you’re almost not looking forward to simply for the mere fact you don’t want to start thinking too much about Joe’s leave ending. Just wanna enjoy the here and now. But, you know it’s something that needs to be done. “Make sure to ask him about the strippers too.”

“Alexis!”

—-------

As he has almost every day since the start of his vacation, Joe handles dinner for you and Callie. Well, mostly you, since little Ms. ma’am insists upon helping Joe cook, and he insists upon you resting when you make the mistake of telling him you’re experiencing heartburn. It’s a common symptom given you’re about two weeks away from hitting four months and something you experienced when you were pregnant with Callie.

However, he takes all necessary, or maybe, unnecessary precautions, having you sit and rest in the living room, watching some random station while he works in unison with your firstborn to prepare dinner. 

He makes grilled fish with a side of rice and broccoli for the vegetable. It makes you laugh every time he encourages and tries to convince Callie that she needs to eat her veggies or else she’ll never grow. Sis looks like she doesn’t entirely believe him but takes the plunge anyhow. Plus, better him than you trying to convince her.

You’ll let him take that battle gladly.

And while he cleans up the kitchen, handles putting all the leftover food away, you tackle Callie’s nighttime routine, specifically her bubble bath, hygiene, and hair. Her bath takes a little longer than usual, somewhat because of your bump, but mostly because with her new disney princess themed bedroom came an attached disney princess themed bathroom. This includes a shit ton of bubble bath additives that any kid would love, many of which she suckered her daddy into buying during your Disney trip.

You don’t even want to know how much that man spent on Callie in that one week timespan. It seemed like everything she saw she wanted, and he wasted no time in pulling out his black card, buying it for her.

You can only pray she remains sweet and humble with a daddy like Joe who’s seemingly hellbent on spoiling her rotten. 

Getting her in her pajamas and securing her bonnet over her head after putting her curls into a pineapple is the easy part, and she’s nearly bursting at the seams to get out the bathroom door for a reason you already know and don’t need to ask. 

Cause as soon as you’re done, she’s like a speeding bullet, rushing out her bathroom and room, straight into yours.

“Daddy?”

By the time you get everything back and put away, she’s found her target. Joe is sitting on your bed, Callie tucked into his side with her chosen bedtime book in hand. She surprises you though when she looks up and smiles brightly. “You can come too, mommy.”

This has to be your first invite in at least a week, and it makes you genuinely smile as well. 

“Thank you, baby.” There’s not an ounce of hesitation as you move over to the other side of the bed, climbing in with them. A brief shared look with Joe gives you the signal you need to jumpstart the conversation you’ve been thinking about all day. “Callie, daddy and I actually wanna talk to you about something.”

Instantly, she’s frowning, pouting almost as she snuggles closer into Joe’s chest. “I don’t want to talk.”

This makes you frown, as Joe also looks taken back by her response. He rubs gentle circles along her back. “Callie Bear, what’s going on with you?”

You pick up on her hesitant reply the same way you’re sure Joe does. “Nothing.”

Placing a comforting hand on her arm, you softly point out some of the things that have led to this conversation. “Calista, I’ve noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with daddy. And you sometimes don’t even want me to spend time with ya’ll.” Licking your lips, you do your best to keep your voice as calm and soothing as possible. “Are you…are you maybe scared about something?”

And it’s when she looks at you for a second, that fear flashing in her eyes, you know that’s what it is. Something has her nervous.

Hating that something is bothering her and especially that she’s keeping it in, you whisper, “Please tell us, baby.”

And it’s Joe holding her a little tighter along with your gentle coaxing that seems to do it, seems to break down that wall that hides her truth. She sniffles, “I don’t want daddy to leave again.”

“Calista…” You hate seeing her so sad, but you especially hate seeing and hearing the pain in Joe’s face and voice at the fact that he’s indirectly the reason for her sadness. “Baby girl, I’m not going anywhere right now, remember? I’m staying here with you and mommy.” 

You’re thankful he doesn’t really highlight the fact that he will eventually have to go back to work. Callie isn’t stupid. She knows this, but it’s not what she needs to hear right now.

And your chest tightens as she sadly points out to Joe a trauma you still haven’t had the space to fully process. “But those people took me from mommy, and I couldn’t see her.” Eyes glossing over, it breaks your heart to hear that she still thinks about that. That being separated from you the way she was is still impacting her. “What if they take me and I can’t see you or mommy?” She adds on in a way that twists the dagger in your chest, “or they make you leave me like they made mommy leave me?”

At that, he pulls her onto his lap, carefully lifting her chin to make her look at him. “Calista, listen to me, sweetheart. No one could ever take you away from me or your mom. Ever.” He speaks with such conviction and determination. He needs her to believe what she’s saying. You both do. “You’re our little girl.”

“He’s right. I know…I know that scared you, but your daddy and I aren’t going anywhere. We promise.” Reaching over to cup her face, you ask in a way that’s more telling than questioning. “That’s why you’ve been wanting to sleep with us.”

She nods, quietly explaining. “I don’t want you to be gone when I wake up.”

“Oh, baby.” you reach for her and she climbs over to you, hugging you tight, head against your chest. “Daddy and I are gonna be here for you, always, okay? No matter what.” Chuckling a bit, you wipe the tears from her eyes. “Even when you’re all grown up and don’t need us anymore.”

She looks between ya’ll, almost wide eyed. “Noooo.” She reaches for Joe who moves closer to the two of you. “You’re my mommy and daddy. I’ll always need my mommy and daddy.”

Her innocence warms your heart. You love this little girl so much. More than words.

“We love you, Callie.” Joe kisses her forehead as she holds onto his arm. 

“I love you guys too.” Her voice is less laid down with that big weight she was carrying around, and it makes you happy to know she feels a bit better, a bit more secure. “Can–can I still sleep with you guys tonight?”

“Of course, baby.” The answer is easy. Knowing now why she’s wanted to stay so close, it would feel almost cruel to deprive her of that comfort. “Of course you can.”

—-------

Megan Lowery is having a shit day.

Beyond a shit day, really.

The first issue being that her stupid alarm didn’t go off. A classic nuisance that almost everyone has experienced at one point or another. 

Except for her.

She’s never had her good old faithful iPhone alarm not get her up in time to tackle the day, until this morning, which has since only gravitated from bad to worse.

Because of course her coffee machine decided to act up. Any other time, she’d have zero issue brewing her morning cup of Joe, but not this morning. No, this morning she was forced to forgo her addiction of almost twenty years nor did she have the time to stop and buy a cup due to already running late because of her dumbass alarm glitching.

And the shitty day couldn’t be completed without some asshole bumping into her and spilling their deliciously smelling coffee all over her Free People blouse.

Put plain and simple, it’s a bad day, and she’s already over it before it even hits 1pm.

It’s why she sits in her meeting, doodling on her legal pad instead of listening to what probably could have been an email.

“Lowery!”

Megan jumps in her seat, eyes scanning the room of coworkers who sit watching her carefully. She clears her throat. “Sir?”

Luke, her boss, crosses his arms. “Am I boring you?”

Yes. “No sir, of course not.”

“I think I am.” Megan has never liked Luke. A product of nepotism, his father created the casting company she works for back in the eighties where he grew it to the major success it is today, only to pass it down to his son a few years ago after ailing health. And while Luke isn’t a bad CEO, per se, he’s not the funny, down to earth type like his old man.

No. The man is a Grade A asshole sometimes.

And this seems to be one of those times.

“Then what was I discussing?”

Fuck. Megan has always hated looking stupid, and she’s usually pretty good at both paying and not paying attention. But without her coffee, it’s damn near impossible to achieve that feat.

“Actually, sir, Megan was just whispering some ideas to me for how we can get Reigns to sign on.”

Megan shoots a vicious look to her work bestie, Paige. She smiles, her perfectly white teeth a stark contrast to her tanned, freckled complexion. “She’s got some great ideas too.”

Luke is smirking, and she knows that he knows Paige is blowing air up his ass. That doesn’t stop him from having his fun though. “Perfect, then I suppose you won’t have any issues taking on the assignment.”

Megan swallows. She doesn’t even know what this assignment is. But the thought of letting her asshole boss get one over on her literally makes her nauseous. With a steel smile, she accepts, “Of course not.” 

“Perfect.” He smirks. She has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Smug bastard. “I’ll forward you the file and contact information for his reps.” Luke looks around at the rest of the employees. “Meeting is over.”

As everyone empties out, Luke being the first, Megan waits impatiently for everyone to depart before turning to Paige and punching her on her arm.

“Ow!”

“What the hell?” She hates being put in situations where she has no idea what’s going on, and this just so happens to be one of them. “What did you just get me into?”

“You could just say thank you for saving my ass, you wonderful goddess.” Paige adjusts her glasses and opens her laptop, typing away before sharing her screen with Megan. “This is what you’re getting into.”

Megan is still annoyed as her eyes land on the screen, but that irritation easily drifts away when she sees who is on the screen. “Holy shit, that’s Roman Reigns.”

“Duh.” Paige says with all the sass, explaining. “Universal wants him for an upcoming film they’re doing, but WWE just announced he’s taking an indefinite hiatus, so it might be a hard sell.” 

Paige, of course, selected a photo of the former champ in the ring, shirtless, hair down. Looking literally like the Gods put all of their talent into one pot and poured out him. Megan then asks, “why is he on hiatus?”

“That’s the sad part.” Paige does some typing and pulls up an article. She points to the several headlines that all say the same thing just in different ways. 

He’s engaged. 

“I swear, all the good ones are taken.” Paige pouts. “There was actually some drama he was in a couple weeks ago but it’s all died down now, I think. I’ll have to send you the tea. Nevertheless, he’s engaged and expecting another child with his now fiancé.”

Megan clicks on one of the articles that show Roman and who she’d guess is the fiancé. A frown falls on her face. “Seriously? Her? He could have done way better.” Exceptionally. Megan could never see someone like him, body sculpted by Zeus himself, with someone like her who looks like she’s never even seen the inside of a gym.

“Regardless, that’s his lady, and they already have one kid together, so he’s really off-limits.” Paige shrugs, closing her laptop. “Thankfully, all you need to do is get him to agree to do this film.” She snorts. “Baby on the way, planning a wedding, how hard can that be?”

Megan rolls her eyes and flips off Paige who laughs while standing up. “Wanna go get lunch? My treat.”

Shaking her head, Megan politely declines. “No thanks. I’ve got a few emails I’ve gotta get caught up on. Raincheck?”

“You bet.” Paige winks and walks out, closing the door behind her to leave Megan alone with her many thoughts.

Paige is right. It’s going to be a challenge to get Roman to sign onto this film when he has so much going on in his personal life. Some might even see it as DOA. Megan, however, has always been intrigued by challenges. She’s never encountered a situation where she didn’t get what she wanted. Where she didn’t get who she wanted.

On a film.

Of course.

Pulling out her phone, she googles his name, scowling when one of the first photos is of him and the fiancé and their kid, she’d guess. She easily pinches on said photo, eliminating them and filling her screen with only him.

Head tilted, twirling a piece of her hair, she says to no one in particular. “You and I are about to be very good friends, Mr. Reigns….”

[velvetm00light]

Friendsgiving

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Seven of Save Me

Previous Chapters: one, two, three (y/n), three (spencer), four, five, six

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After a comforting morning cooking a dish for Penelope's Friendsgiving, you finally make it to her apartment to spend time with all of your favorite people.

Warnings: Mostly just references bad, consuming thoughts but nothing too serious :)

A/N: I'm sorry for not posting in a while! I've been writing my own book and I'm in pre-med so I don't normally have much free time. But, I want to at least post on here every so often! So here's a good one (hopefully) for ya'll. :)

YOU SLIP ON your favorite pair of leggings, fuzzy slippers, and Spencer's comfiest crewneck. He peers up at you from tying his shoes and smiles. "You look better in it than I do."

"Good thing I plan on keeping it." You smile.

As soon as he finishes, you follow him out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. You grab the mac and cheese dish you and Spencer had made earlier this morning. "Do you want me to get that?" He asks you.

"I'm a strong girl," you reply. He rolls his eyes playfully and ushers you out the door.

The car ride is short and sweet, he allows you to play whatever songs you want. His hand is placed on your knee, his thumb rubbing soft circles. He giggles at you as you loudly sing songs Spencer never would have listened to on his own. He even asked you to play one again just so he could sing it with you.

When you arrived at Penelope's apartment complex, he turns off his car and looks at you. "If it gets too much or you start to get stressed, just let me know, okay?"

"Thank you, Spence. I think I'll be fine," you reassure. You truly hadn't given yourself the time to think about what happened to you. You pushed all those feelings aside as soon as you woke up in the hospital and refused to touch them with a 10-foot pole. It helped that Spencer kept you busy, kept you safe. You'll spend the night with all your closest friends and feel relieved. You knew any of them would help you carry your burden if you asked.

He gives your knee a reassuring squeeze and hops out of the car. He rushes over to your side before you have a chance to open the door yourself.

"My lady," he bows as he opens the passenger side door.

You gently climb out of the car, careful of the dish in your arms. "My most loyal knight," you smile, mimicking a curtsy like you've seen on TV.

"Lady's don't curtsy to their knights but I'm not complaining."

"Oh, hush, Mr. Knows It All." You would have swatted at his arm but luckily for him, your arms are full.

You hurry up the stairs to Penelope's apartment. But, once you are standing in front of her door, anxiety starts to bubble inside you. You are excited for the rest of the night, but the beginning is what makes you nervous. You knew the team would either bombard you with "are you okay"'s and other comforting words or they wouldn't mention it but would walk on eggshells around you.

Spencer spins you to look at him. "I've got you. You're safe here."

You take a deep breath and try to give him a reassuring smile. "I know."

Spencer lifts his knuckles to knock on Penelope's dull apartment door as you turn back around, steeling yourself for the next few minutes. He only got in a single rapt on the door before it swung open wide, Penelope's red-painted lips drawing up into a bright smile. "You guys came!" She squealed, grabbing the glassware dish covered in tinfoil from your hands.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," you smile, following Penelope to her kitchen island where all of your coworkers are standing around, nursing wine glasses in their hands. A silence falls upon the room, and you quickly break it unable to stand the palpable sympathy in the room. "I'm alive and I don't plan on being babied the entire rest of my life."

"She has been putting up a fight against it," Spencer laughs. The team joins in chuckling, the tension in the air immediately disappearing. JJ takes you by the shoulders and analyzes your face. "I'm glad you're here," she states as she pulls you into a tight momma bear hug. You swear you heard your ribs cracked as she squeezed you.

Your entire team takes turns hugging you and Spencer. You feign annoyance at being treated with such sympathy, but your heart flutters at the overwhelming love your team as for you.

"Who's ready to eat?" Emily asks brightly and immediately your entire team begins to dig into the multiple dishes placed carefully around Penelope's kitchen island. Your mac and cheese sits next to a stuffed turkey, pasta alla vodka which you would bet a million dollars that Rossi brought, and other deliciously smelling meals.

You don't wait to dig in, the days long starvation you suffered only a few days ago has been a consistent hole in your stomach, forcing your body into survival mode whenever you're around food. The choices are overwhelming and you stand frozen in place with a plate in your hand, unsure where to even begin.

"Here, I'll get some for you," Spencer says gently, taking the plate from your hand and pilling some of everything onto your plate.

"Thank you," you whisper. As soon as he finishes, he carries both plates over to Garcia's living room and you follow closely behind. "It was overwhelming."

"I know, I figured it might be easier if I made the decision for you. I also gave you less than you might want because I didn't want you to feel guilty for not eating everything."

Your eyes widen at his statement and he chuckles lightly. "You're not exactly mysterious, y/n," Spencer smiles.

"No one on this team is mysterious," Emily teased. "Everyone knows things they probably shouldn't even know." Everyone laughed and murmured their agreements.

The rest of the team joins you in the living room and everyone is a blur of talking in between bites and even with food in their mouths. Garcia doesn't even take a bite of her food for a few long minutes because she is too busy asking everyone else what kind of holiday movie they're in the mood for.

She finally settles on a silly hallmark movie and you and your team take turns outrageously guessing what will happen.

"I say she goes to this bakery, meets the guy who works there at the counter, and it turns out they're related somehow," JJ explains.

"No, she definitely goes in there, then she talks about how her parents were murdered on Christmas so she hates the holiday, and turns out he murdered them," Derek says, laughter filling the air.

"I'm glad the actual serial killers around the country decided to unite and stop killing for this one day so we could finally enjoy ourselves," Rossi announced. Everyone's head nodded in agreement.

"I miss it," you express, picking at your food.

"Take your time, y/n. There will always be bad guys," Aaron replies, his gaze softer as he looks at you than it has probably ever been in his life.

"I know, I just..it's hard, you know? I miss you guys," you confess. You decide to keep out the fact that you're afraid to be with your own thoughts or to be alone period. You weren't exactly confident in your abilities to deescalate yourself if it were to come to that.

"We miss you too, but it's important to heal," Penelope says softly and you can't help but smile at her contagious optimism.

"I know, I'm going to be upset though if all the extremely bad guys are caught while I'm gone."

"We'll save them just for you," Aaron responds, lifting his wine glass in the air. "I'll let them know as soon as I get home."

You try to enjoy the rest of the night with your friends, every bad thought that appears in your brain you shove into the dark depths where they can't come back out. You try to remind yourself to be happy that you're alive and back with the people who mean the most to you.

As the hours tick by, glasses of wine are drank and refilled, movies are played right after another ends, and the warmth in your heart grows heavier by the minute. You had always ached for friends like this, for nights spent laughing and joking.

Spencer's arm is stretched across the back of the couch behind you, his hand had been restless the entire night, running circles just below the nape of your neck, running a finger down your shoulder on the opposite side, or twirling pieces of your hair in between his fingers. You're unsure if he even knows he's doing it, but either way, you're grateful for the grounding touch. Without Spencer, you fear your thoughts might suck you into yourself so deep you would never see light again.

You allow yourself to think that maybe his touches have been intentional because somehow, he seems to know you better than you know yourself and knows how much you need his touch.

You and your team finally say your goodbyes as your lips feel leaded and threaten to shut on you with no sign of reopening for at least 12 hours.

"Be easy on yourself," Emily whispers as she embraces you in a hug. "Take this time to start a new hobby or something."

"I'll think about it," you smile. Spencer places his hand on the small of your back as you exit Penelope's apartment. You two are silent on the way Spencer's car. Spencer in his true fashion explains to you that you weren't going to drive anywhere this whole next month. You tried your best to tell him you didn't need a chauffeur and he was already doing enough. Plus, he didn't even like to drive. But your protests fell on deaf ears.

"Shhh..just get in the car," Spencer smiled, opening the passenger door for you.

"If you insist," you reply, sliding into the car.

"Play that one song you put on, something about taste?" Spencer said as he climbed into the driver's side.

"Oh my god, you want me to play Sabrina Carpenter?" You giggle, immediately searching for the song. You press play and turn the volume up to as loud as either of you could handle.

As soon as it began playing, you could hardly contain yourself. You were laughing so hard just listening to Spencer yell the words as dramatically as he could. He had to stop singing a couple of times because he was laughing just as hard as you. "Wait, one more time before we get home!"

"Okay, okay!"

Once you get to his apartment, you both can barely get out words you're still laughing at each other. He opens the door for you and you sigh in relief. As soon as he shuts the door behind you, he pulls you in for a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

You smile up at him. Before you can reply, he places a finger below your chin to bring your lips to his.

TAG LIST: @qatiee @dottirose @thisaintredwine @jay-2s-world @ruziazyn @translatemunson @sky2nd @dysphoricsanity @bunbunbl0gs

[waratah-moon]

can I request some dad!eddie?

"If you can't sleep, do you wanna have sex?" Pairing: dad!eddie x mom!reader (gremlinverse) WC: 2.5k Warnings: SMUT 18+ (oral f receiving, unprotected sex - established relationship), mentions of vomiting (sick toddler), tooth rotting fluff, no y/n masterlist / send me a message 💌 / read on ao3

You looked at the alarm clock on your bedside table: 3:03am. Indie had been awake complaining of a sore tummy all night. You'd rubbed her back, given her pepto-bismol, read her a story, you'd even given her some of those ginger chews you kept in the cupboard for when Wayne came over. She'd only just fallen asleep, but you weren't sure it would last.

"How is she?"

"She threw up so she should be feeling better."

"Poor Gremlin, what do you think did it?"

"Part of me is thinking the chocolate milkshake, cheeseburger, apple pie and ice-cream, and two butterfingers didn't mix well together."

Eddie had taken Indie on a daddy-daughter date earlier that night; starting at her favourite diner off I-69 and ending at the arcade. Indie was beyond happy that he’d won her Wish Bear stuffed toy and it instantly took place of pride on her bed. "Yeah that's my bad. I can't say no to her."

"You need to learn," you groaned, rubbing your eyes with heels of your palms. "She'd four, Eds. Her brain isn't connected to her stomach yet."

"I'm sorry, it's those big eyes. She's got superpowers."

You huffed, pulling back the covers and grabbing your book from the bedside table. "Seems her superpower tonight is keeping me awake. I'm gonna go read on the couch."

"Wait, baby," he reached for your waist, pulling himself up so his bare chest was pressed against your back. He pushed your hair aside, exposing your neck. You could feel the faint prickle of his stubble against your skin. "If you can't sleep, do you wanna have sex?"

"Our daughter just vomited, which I had to clean up by the way, and you're asking if I want to fuck you?"

"Was more thinking you could lie back and relax and I'd fuck you, but I'm fine with whatever."

"Oh, sorry, of course, your way makes more sense."

"C'mon baby, please? This is the first night in ages she hasn't slept in our bed."

It was true, Indie had been clingier than usual lately. According to Mrs. Sampson next door that was completely natural for her age group, both her sons went through the same thing at her age. You still thought that maybe you weren’t doing enough, that your increased work hours and relying on your friends for babysitting made you a bad mom.

"I'm not in the mood right now."

"Okay, okay," Eddie stopped kissing your neck, his hands slipping under your tee-shirt to your shoulders. "How about I just give you a massage instead? You've been working so hard lately."

"That'd actually be nice," you sighed as his fingers kneaded a knot from your shoulders.

"C'mere, take your top off and lay down," he pushed the hem of your top over your head and you tossed it aside, laying flat on your stomach.

Eddie began rubbing your back, using just the right amount of pressure to relax your muscles. You groaned when he moved up your spine, his fingers loosening the tense knots between your shoulder blades and at the base of your neck. His hands worked down, sending tingles up your spine when he moved along your ribcage to your lower back. He squeezed your ass through the fabric of your sleep shorts before kneading the backs of your thighs and down to your calves. When he got to your feet, he picked one up, his thumbs pressing into the arch of your foot. He was hitting all the right pressure points; the arch, the heel, the balls of your toes. His touch was making all the days worries fade away. He switched to the other foot, repeating the motions. It was rare that you got to spend this much time alone together, and you were just waiting for your daughter to ruin the moment by calling out. But she didn't.

"Alright, on your back," he instructed. You made a noise of surprise and he added, "I'm not done, roll over."

You did as he asked, and went straight to squeezing your breasts. "Eddie!" It came out as a whisper-squeal, your body tensing.

"What? It's a full service massage, that includes taking care of the girls," he rolled your nipple between his fingers, and it instantly hardened. "C'mon, I know this is feeling good."

You hummed, caving to his motions and you sank back into the mattress.

He pressed his lips to the breast he wasn't fondling, leaving kisses against the skin before sucking on the nipple, his tongue flicking against the bud.

Your hands found their way into his hair, holding him against your chest. "I know what you're doing."

"Hmm?" He caught your eye, widening his in feigned ignorance.

"You're trying to get me wet so I'll let you fuck me."

"I would never," he scoffed, still toying with your nipple. "And the fact that you think so lowly of me that I would purposely try and turn you on for my own gain." He clicked his tongue, "that’s just mean, baby.”

“Save the speech, Brando. It worked.”

His eyes lit up. “It worked?” He noticed your smirk and coughed, raising his brow, “I mean, what worked?”

“Wafer thin ice, Edward,” you pulled his head up to meet your lips and kissed him.

His mouth worked slow and sweet against yours and you could still taste toothpaste on his tongue. He smelled like apricot, the scent of your shampoo that he always said he never used, but it seemed to run out too quickly for just one person. You weren’t mad about it, though. You knew he only used it when he was missing you.

You and Eddie hadn’t had a lot of time together recently, let alone time alone. He’d taken extra hours at the garage and you were working overtime at the office, both trying to put away enough savings to buy your first house.

You lifted your hips as his hands slipped beneath your shorts, allowing the fabric to fall down your thighs. "Wanna take my time with you."

You let him push your thighs open, settling himself between your legs. "Not too long, Eds. I'm tired."

"We can just go to sleep sweetheart, I don't mind."

"No, no, I wanna. Just gentle tonight please, nothing rough."

“Alright baby, nice and slow. I’ll get you off first, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kissed along you sternum, trailing his lips across you stomach and down the inside of your thighs. His hair tickled your pubic bone as he sucked a hickey in the crease of your thigh.

“Eddie!” You hissed, your hand finding its way into his hair and pulling his face up to meet yours. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’ You know what I’m doing. I’m the only person who’s going to see it.”

“I have an appointment with the gynaecologist tomorrow!”

“That’s tomorrow?” He grimaced, eyes sheepish. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s proof your sexually active, right?”

“I think the proof of that is the four year old in the other room.”

“I’ll stop.”

“No, no,” you sighed, smoothing his hair back. “Just some warning next time. Keep going.”

“You sure?” He still had his palms keeping your thighs spread, the light from the alarm clock reflecting in his eyes.

“Yes Eddie! Seriously my vagina is on display here, just please eat me out already.”

“Alright. Can I just say, for the record, your pussy is very cute.”

“Cute? It’s suppose to be sexy.”

“She is sexy! But she’s also cute.” He placed a kiss right above your clit before licking a stripe up your centre. “And she tastes incredible.”

You tried to roll your eyes but the tingling feeling you were getting from Eddie sucking on your clit knocked all the sarcasm out of your body.

He was alternating between licking and sucking, and you knew he was just warming you up. He was waiting for that hitch in you breath, the shuddering of your thighs that would tell him which motion to stick to to bring you to orgasm.

Right now it was the combination of his curling fingers and the circling of his tongue that made your stomach flutter and a little yelp escape from your throat.

“Oh, that’s what’s doing it tonight, huh?”

“Fuck, stop talking, just keep doing that.”

“I love it when you’re desperate f’me sweetheart, really adds to my ego.”

“Eddie I swear to god, please shut the fuck up,” your voice shook, the edges rough. You didn’t mind his dirty talk, but right now you needed him to keep moving his tongue.

He let you push his head close against your centre. As his tongue worked against you, you felt the familiar heat in the pit of your stomach, the heat that made your legs weak and shot pins and needles down to your toes. You breath came out in short, ragged gasps as he held your thighs down against the mattress. He let you ride out your orgasm, only stopping his movements when your breath slowed and your body relaxed.

When you finally opened your eyes, Eddie was staring at you doe eyed, his chin resting on your stomach. “Good?”

You let out a small puff of air through your nose, “C’mere.” You knew he was waiting for you to tell him how good he makes you feel. Even after all these years together he still needed the validation. “That was perfect, baby.” He hummed against your lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the stubble on his chin scratching against your skin.

He pulled off his boxers and you could see he was already hard and reddened at the tip, barely visible in the low light.

He pushed himself through your folds, using the slickness of your arousal to ease himself into your tight cunt.

He stilled, the tip of his cock barely breaching your hole. "Shit, baby. I love how fucking incredible you feel around me. Is this okay?"

"Yeah, Eds. Keep going."

He buried himself deeper within you and you let out breath as you felt your walls flutter and stretch around him. "God, I missed this. You feel so fucking good, Jesus H Christ."

He moved to thrust within you, but you held his hips still. "Hang on, just stop a minute. I just want to feel you."

He lasted about five breathes before he groaned, his hips stuttered, "baby it feels too good, I have to move."

"Just give me a minute, Eds," you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheek bones, guiding his eyes to meet yours. "Just breath." You could feel him sitting deep in your belly, the ridges of his cock filling you out.

"I can feel all of you it's insane."

"That's the point, I love feeling this close to you."

"Sweetheart, I don't think we can get any closer." You wrapped your legs around his hips, your feet resting on his ass and pulling his pelvis flush against you. "Please, just let me cum and we can stay like this for as long as you want."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

It didn't take long for Eddie to finish, only about five minutes of slow thrusts and your fingertips scratching his scalp. He'd told you before that this was his favourite way to have sex; slow and meaningful with you whispering sweet nothings beneath him, touching every part of his skin you could get your hands on.

He kept his promise, staying deep inside you once he finished, stroking you hair. "It's crazy how in love with you I am."

"Yeah? I'm pretty batshit about you too."

He propped himself up on his elbow, raising his eyebrow. "Batshit?"

"Insane. I was trying to be cute," you tried to counter with a pout which Eddie instantly pounced on, kissing it off your lips.

"You are cute. And sexy. So sexy. And smart. And beautiful. And compassionate. And brave. And-"

You squished his cheeks between the palms of your hands and pecked his lips. "Okay, okay, this could go on forever but I wanna sleep so let's clean up so we can cuddle."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You'd just fallen into that sweet space between awake and asleep when you heard the door creak open. "Mama?" You sat up to see Indie in the doorway holding her new stuffed care bear by its foot. "I want to sleep here."

Eddie spoke before you had a chance to form an excuse. "Not tonight, Gremlin. Mama's got to get up early for work tomorrow. She needs her sleep."

"Please?" You could tell by her voice that she was jutting out her lower lip, puppy dog eyes wide.

"How about I come sleep with you in your room, that way we can let mom have her rest." He swung his legs over the side on the bed, blinking to adjust his eyes to the light.

"Eds," you knew it would be ridiculous for him to try and squeeze next to Indie on her twin-sized bed, but he insisted it was more comfortable than it looked. Even if he spent the next day wincing and gripping his lower back like an old man.

"Okay. Carry me please?"

"It's only for a couple of hours," he pressed a kiss to your forehead and tucked the covers beneath your chin. "Alright Gremlin, beddy byes time."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

When six AM finally rolled around, Eddie wandered into the kitchen, his brows furrowed in a wince, bags heavy beneath his eyes.

“Coffee?”

“Please. You know our daughter snores? She gets that from you.”

“I do not snore,” you poured coffee into his mug and spooned in some sugar.

“You absolutely do. Only when you’re really tired.” He made soft little snoring sounds. “Like that, it’s cute.”

You frowned, passing him the mug. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll survive. It’s not the bed, it’s that she starfishes and hits me in the face every time she rolls over. At least when she sleeps in our bed she stays still.”

“We need to get her sleeping by herself.”

“I know, I know. Tonight, yeah? She’s on her own.” He poured some cereal into the bowl you set in front of him. “While I was lying awake with Gremlin’s hand in my mouth I was thinking.”

“Yes?”

“How about we give Steve and Robin some quality Gremlin time and have a date night next weekend?”

“A date night? Can we stay home?”

“Sure. I’ll make that pasta you like.”

“I’ll call Steve later and set it up.”

“Do you think you can wear that little red thing I like?”

“With the garter and the stockings?”

Eddie nodded, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he poured some milk into his bowl.

“‘Course, baby. Anything for you.”

tags list - @geekyfifi @livsters @bailey1212 @babyfrosty @becca-alexa @toomuchtimeonmaihands @munsonology @celestialuna13 @69your-best-night-mare69 @neewtmas @silky-luxe @lokis-little-fawn @starrthemushroom @eddies-puppet

-

lemme know if there are typos im tired

[imaslutforwritingshit]

oh my god you're like the only writer i've found whose requests are open rn

so basically ive been reading this rlly good book where the male protagonist is like rlly tall and super sweet and a hockey player and now i very desperately need ethan landry as that with like a short reader who maybe has some attitude

you can add smut (preferably) but if you can't think of anything for it it's fine!

OKAY

(Hockey Ethan Landry x fem. short reader, that ice skates)

(Part One- teasing, plot)

Sorry to the requester! This took a while like four months 😭 but luckily it’s skating season!

Ethan Landry ❤️‍🔥

Julie Weston 🤍

I started the routine again. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. Wake up, grab my skates, go on the ice. I forget all of my problems when I skate, letting them fall under my feet as I rake the blades into powdery ice. Today, the rink is empty, given no one comes this early. It’s 5:00 in the morning, and if any person would be here right now, my guess is that they would be a sports player, considering how insane they all are.

Skating has been a part of my life forever, since I was a child, even. I don’t let myself think about how long it’s been, how much has changed. I just ride, to quote Lana, whose music I immediately put on, raising the volume of my AirPods to (almost) an extreme level. I begin the comfortable act of sliding my legs, bending my knees, then faster, until the ice is blending and whirling under my skates, and I am speeding in the rink, distracted by the music in my ears. I do a backwards spiral, grabbing my leg and twirling, then a backwards spin. I feel elevated, euphoric, and then, I feel a hard wall slam into my backside.

I trip over my skates, and fall to the ice, hearing my leggings rip from the impact. Groaning, I push myself up from my hands. Not blood, just a scrape on my legs. I sigh, and feel that my AirPods fell out of my ears when I had slammed to the ground. As I searched the ice for them, a low, gravely tone behind me scoffed.

I jumped, immediately turning unsuccessfully to meet the person. I stumbled, and straightened my legs out of fear, like a small deer in the wintertime. But no sheer amount of embarrassment could prepare me for who I saw behind me.

Ethan.

Ethan Landry.

When he met my expression, he smiled, his dark eyes glinting with the satisfaction of my surprise. His hair was messy, as if he had just woke up from bed, like me. He was wearing a black hoodie, and grey sweatpants, which seemed normal, but what stuck out to me was the hockey stick in his hands.

“I’m not gonna play with you, you know.” I stammered, pointing at the stick.

Ethan laughed smugly, and I swear I could’ve just slapped him then and there. He tapped the base of the stick on the ground. “Yeah? I was hoping you would.” He dropped his eyes to my smaller body, and I straightened my shoulders in an effort to be taller. “You certainly have the…build of a hockey player.”

I rolled my eyes, and huffed, grabbing my AirPods awkwardly in front of him. I could feel his stare down my back, and I really wished he wasn’t in direct view of my ass. I moved on the ice faster than I thought possible to get away from him, finding a corner where I practicing skating drills in an effort to sit with my thoughts. Ethan was moving a puck casually on the other side of the rink, and I made certain that he didn’t see me staring.

When I was in elementary school, Ethan Landry was every girl’s crush. How could he not be? With his dreamy eyes, his soft, tender voice, cute curls? I could remember every friend I ever had begging him for his number, or to sit with him during lunchtime. But no, not me. I saw who he really was. He was cocky, so much so that every time I walked by him, he would ask me if I was ready to admit I liked him. But I never did, and even if I would, he would never hear about it. Ethan would pester me, throw dodgeballs at my shoulder, tap my thumb repeatedly in 7up, until I glared at him, ultimately losing the game.

And I was fine hating Ethan Landry. I enjoyed it. I liked knowing that I was the only one who knew what he was- a playboy.

In 5th grade, I had a friend named Allie. She always tried to convince me to “confess” that I liked Ethan. She told me nobody could resist him, and there’s no point in me pretending that I didn’t like him. But it didn’t matter how many times I told her I wouldn’t. She already had a plan.

Allie wrote a fake love letter, filled with the grossest things a 5th grader would possibly write, or know about. Allie signed the letter with my name; putting it on Ethan’s desk the morning of English class. I will never forget the look on Ethan’s face after she told me what she did. It’s the first time I saw him blush.

Probably because Allie wrote, “I want to sleep with you,” in the letter, even if she didn’t know what that meant yet.

Needless to say, I never talked to that girl again, until she moved schools. And Ethan stopped bothering me after that. Only recently, in high school, the taunting and teasing has come up again. And with it, memories of 5th grade. I just need him out of my life. And the worst part is, he’s still just as fawned over, if not more, than before. Every girl I ever knew had once crushed on him. He’s gotten significantly taller, around 6’3, and his form filled out nicely after enrolling into hockey 7 years ago. I never went to any of his games, and honestly, I don’t care to. He’s not my friend, my enemy, or my lover. He’s nothing to me.

I took a break from skating, huffing over the side of the rink walls. I heard him skate over to me, and I straightened my body again, my heart suddenly faster. I didn’t dare look at him.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, hesitant. I ignored him. “Hey.” I only stared at him, feigning boredom. He gritted his teeth. “Julie, can I talk to you?”

“No.” I turned around and began skating on the ice. I heard Ethan groan behind me and follow my trail.

“What happened to us?” His voice was light, but the words cut deep.

I whirled around, putting my hands in my hips to seem like my fingers weren’t shaking.

“What do mean, us? There has been no us, there will never be an us,” I exclaim, skating backwards. “The last time I checked, the only thing you ever wanted us to be was the boy who makes fun of the girl, and the girl who loveeeddd the boy so much!” I mocked him, rolling out the word with an irritating gesture. I huffed in cold air, and whirled around for the final time, taking my time to exit the rink.

As I clanked my skates on the warm carpet of the bench area, I looked back, seeing Ethan’s eyes on mine. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving up and down, and butterflies warmed my core. I forced my eyes down, and began disassembling my skates, stuffing them in the light pink bag I got for my 18th birthday.

“You know that I knew about Allie, right?”

His deep voice shocked me out of my state of pitiful thoughts. I shook my hair out of my face, and stared up, Ethan suddenly nearing the wall that separated the rink from the sitting area. I slid on my boots, and wiped melted water droplets from my pants as I stood.

“What?” My voice was weary. I just wanted to be home. School was tomorrow, and I would prefer to keep my Sunday Ethan-free from now on.

He stepped into the area, and sat down on the bench opposite to me. He was out of breath, red cheeked, with a smooth glaze of sweat gleaming on his sharp jawline. As he dusted off his sweats and kicked off his skates, he scoffed.

“I knew that Allie wrote the letter.” Silence filled the heavy room, only the heaters buzzing from afar the sound I could hear. Ethan finally stood up, black sneakers on his feet. He unzipped his jacket slowly, his eyes burning onto mine. As he stripped his body, I could see the muscles lining fabric underneath his shirt. I had to clench my thighs, bite my lip, not to go crazy.

Because, the secret was?

I’ve been attracted to Ethan Landry since the day I met him. And I’ve been trying, trying so hard to convince myself that I wasn’t.

He tugged on his sleeves, and casually zipping his bag as he talked. “She told me that she wrote it. And the reason that I was ignoring you after all of it wasn’t because I was embarrassed that you wanted to sleep with me.”

He stood near me, now towering over my frail body. I can’t believe how much taller he got, and he closed space between us, until I was up against the wall.

My nerves were burning, and his eyes were dark, fire pooling in his dangerously beautiful irises. He leaned in, his husky voice in my ear. “It’s because I was upset that you didn’t want to.”

My mouth dropped. “You were ten, and you knew what sleeping with people was?” That wasn’t on my mind. The thought that he would want me too… it drove me insane. I rubbed my legs together harder, pressure in my core.

Ethan laughed, but in a way that almost sounded painful. He leaned back, grazing my body with his eyes. “Jesus, not then.” His face suddenly got serious, as he rested his eyes on my hips, my breasts, and then my lips again.

“Now.”

My eyes opened wider than I could have imagined, and I gasped, letting breath open my lungs.

“Y-you want to sleep with me now?” I straightened my back, my eyes drilled into his.

His expression glinted with dark lust, a smile forming on his face as he took in my shock.

“Yeah.” He whispered, grabbing my wrist and sliding my arm over my head.

“Is that a problem?”

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part fourteen] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (18+ mdni)

word count: 3.4k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

Minho and Felix were holding a spot in line for the four of you already when you arrived at the gate with Jisung. You mumbled a handful of sorries and excuse me’s as you shuffled past other guests in the queue. You hated being that person to cut in front of others, but you weren’t left with much choice since Jisung’s brothers had gone ahead without you.

To be fair, you had shown up later than you’d agreed upon. Patience didn’t really run in the Han family. Jisung was probably the most mild-mannered of the bunch.

You weren’t even sure that the people you were squeezing past understood you as you whispered half-assed apologies to them. You just hoped they were able to read your pitiful expression and took it as remorse.

Jisung held your hand as he dragged you through the line to get to his brothers. You ran your thumb over the little scar on his knuckle repeatedly to comfort yourself. His hand was nowhere near as sweaty as Minho’s, or maybe yours had just dried by now, but accepted the familiarity of the motion, letting him lead you to the front.

Minho perked up when he saw you and Jisung finally break through the crowd. He waved you down and stepped aside to give you both some space.

“You okay?” Felix asked, putting his phone in his back pocket to give you his full attention.

You nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Did you get sick?” Minho pressed, thinly veiled concern evident in his voice.

“No, I was fine. Jisung bought me some popcorn so I’d have something on my stomach just in case. Now I’m just… embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” Felix insisted, “everyone’s afraid of something.”

“But not everyone’s a pussy about it,” you sighed.

“You’re just unique like that,” Jisung teased, earning an elbow in the ribs from you.

You glared at him and then turned to the other two boys. “Anyone need a ride partner? Mine is available for trading.”

Jisung pretended to pout. “Aw, babe, don’t be like that.”

You ignored him. “Anyone? Going once…”

“I’ll take him off your hands,” Felix offered with a smug grin.

You traded spots with Felix so that you were standing next to Minho. You’d wanted Jisung to be able to ride with Felix anyway. You felt guilty that he’d be stuck with you when it was tradition for him to sit with his twin brother. You also felt a little guilty that Minho would be stuck with you as a result, but less so. You figured it was only fair given what had gone down in Rome.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay without him?” Minho asked, low enough for only you to hear.

“I’m sure. This is just like a bike ride, right?”

“Yes, but elevated.” A lump formed in your throat. “Did you not see the track outside?”

“It’s not as high as the other rides,” you said, mostly to yourself. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you just trying to get rid of me? Do you not want to ride with me after what happened last time?”

Minho’s eyes widened in surprise at your accusation. “No! That’s not-”

“Because that’s sure what it sounds like.”

“I swear, I wasn’t trying to discourage you from riding the bike thing, I just didn’t want you to feel forced to or regret getting on it or anything.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time,” you confessed.

He visibly relaxed. “Jesus, don’t do that.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t think you mean that.”

You shrugged, a hint of a smile playing at your lips. “Can neither confirm nor deny.”

“That’s what I thought.”

The queue for the Ptera Cycle moved slower than the one for the coaster had. It made sense, seeing as it drew in a greater variety of riders. There were a lot of families with their small children in line, many of them wearing backpacks or harnesses attached to a tether held by one of the adults or older siblings.

“I used to be a leash kid,” Minho said, following your gaze to a toddler trying to unbuckle the straps of their backpack.

“You’re fucking kidding.”

He shook his head. “I wish I was. To be fair, I was a runner, so my parents didn’t have much of a choice unless they wanted to lose me.”

“I’m surprised they never ‘accidentally’ forgot to secure it. I know I would have.”

Minho put a hand over his chest in mock offense. “You’re mean. I can see why Jisung likes you.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t necessarily a compliment. To you or Jisung.”

“I know. But I took it as one.”

Minho mumbled something under his breath that you didn’t catch before continuing the recollection of his childhood. “All three of us were leash kids, actually.”

“That makes sense. You guys look like leash kids.” He didn’t acknowledge your comment aside from scoffing. “I don’t blame your mom, either. Twin boys plus you would be hell.”

“Jesus, brutal.”

You grinned wickedly. “I can’t wait to hold this over Jisung’s head.”

“Hold what over my head?” Jisung turned to look back at you suspiciously.

You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, holding him close.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you chided.

“Too late, I am worried about it.”

“Your big brother just told me some very interesting information about you.”

“Minho, I will strangle you,” Jisung muttered through gritted teeth.

“I’d like to see you try,” Minho challenged.

“Guys, we’re next,” Felix said tiredly, yanking his twin brother forward by the collar of his shirt.

You waited silently until you were paired off with Minho by one of the ride operators. He took the bike closest to the outside edge and you climbed onto the one next to his. The bikes were situated in a little cart together, with the handlebars extending over the edge. The cart was topless and open on both sides so that the riders could feel like they were suspended above the park- something that you preferred not to experience.

Minho gave you a sideways look once you were strapped in, once again looking worried. You mouthed I’m fine to him, but you weren’t sure that he bought it.

“We can go slow,” he said.

“I don’t want to hold up the people behind us, though.”

“Fuck them. We can go as slow as you need to.”

You rolled your eyes, but secretly appreciated the sentiment. Although, you’d try to pick up the pace so as not to ruin the ride for the others. You tried to pedal in tandem with Minho at first, but that proved to be too difficult. Every time you would stop to try and match his rhythm he’d also stop, and your car would get stuck in the middle of the track. It made you both laugh every time, but you weren’t so sure that it was as funny to the couple behind you.

Finally, you decided to just focus on your own pedaling which ended up working a lot better than the previous attempts.

Minho talked to fill the silence. You suspected it was to distract you from the height, but you liked listening to him anyway. He had a nice voice. And it was endearing, watching him come up with new topics so that you’d never have the chance to be consumed by your own thoughts. It reminded you of Jisung’s stories.

“Where’d Jisung and Felix go?” you asked, suddenly remembering there were two other people in your party.

You squinted, trying to see ahead through the darkness. You were unable to make anything out, even with all of the Christmas lights twinkling around you.

“They’re probably trying to see how fast they can make these things go,” Minho said dismissively.

“You’re right. I’m sure they’re already waiting for us at the photo checkpoint.”

“They turn everything into a competition.”

“Uh huh, they do. And I’m sure you have no idea where they got their competitive nature from…”

“None at all.” He grinned, but you frowned in realization.

“I’m sorry I’m depriving you of that. I’m sure you would’ve wanted to race them, or beat their time or something if you weren’t stuck with me.”

“Stop that,” he said softly.

“I’m serious though, Minho. You guys can leave me in Child Swap for the next ride and I’ll wait for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re not leaving you in Child Swap. Stop acting like you’re a burden, because you’re not. I’m perfectly happy taking our time, admiring the view. I mean, how often are we going to be able to see this?”

You paused for a moment to take in the surroundings he was referring to, slowing your pedaling so that you were almost stopped.

There were strings upon strings of lights as far as the eye could see. In the distance, the colors of the lights bled together so that they were indiscernible from each other, creating an ever changing rainbow effect.

“The lights are beautiful,” you whispered.

Minho hummed in agreement, but he wasn’t looking at the lights.

When you turned back to look at him you locked eyes automatically. The nearby light display was illuminating his face in the most captivating way. It was like looking at an intricate mosaic, or a stained glass window. Gentle hues of blue, pink, green, and purple washed over his features, reflected even brighter in his eyes.

You looked away and pushed forward on the pedals, making the bikes lurch back into motion.

“They, um, remind me of Disney World’s old holiday lights. It used to be the biggest light display in the world. I would go every year with my family, but they got rid of them.”

“Oh, at Hollywood Studios, right? I always wanted to go to that, but they axed it before I got the chance.”

“Have you ever been to Disney World?”

“Yeah, when I was on tour we’d go on our days off. DisneyLand too. ”

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to.”

Felix and Jisung were, in fact, waiting for you at the photo checkpoint like you had predicted. They were both laser focused on the screens that were showing new pictures of riders, though you couldn’t say why. Neither of them noticed you and Minho approach them until they heard your voices.

“We thought you guys might have gotten stuck!” Jisung exclaimed teasingly, scooping you up in a hug.

“Nope, we’re just slow.”

“I’m slow,” you clarified.

“We took the scenic route,” Minho added.

“There’s only one route,” Felix pointed out.

“It’s an expression, dumbass. We went slow on purpose.”

“Because I’m a pussy, remember?” you mumbled, giving Jisung a pointed look.

He smirked and opened his mouth to respond, likely to turn the word pussy around on you in an even less family-friendly way, but thankfully Felix cut him off before he could.

“What’s next on the agenda? The park closes in like two hours.”

The boys squeezed as many attractions out of those two hours as they possibly could. Your social battery had died hours ago so you clung to Jisung the rest of the night, using him as a human shield so that you could avoid conversation.

Nikki and Dom had already left the park and taken a cab back to where you were staying. They had texted the group that you didn’t need to worry about them and that they’d see you in the morning.

The four of you piled into a taxi around one am. Everyone was sore and exhausted by then, and for once no one was in the mood to talk. Minho took one for the team and sat in the passenger seat even though he was just as tired as everyone else. It was odd to see him so quiet. He was usually so personable and talkative, but he only spoke when he needed to give the driver directions.

Jisung kept his hand on your thigh for the entire ride back, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. You could tell he wanted you to rest, and you weren’t going to argue. You drifted off with your head on his shoulder, lulled to sleep by the quiet thrum of traffic.

-

Jisung gently shook you awake when the cab rolled up in front of your hotel. He helped you out of the car and more or less dragged you through the lobby and to the elevator. 

“She’s gonna sleep like a baby,” Minho said. You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“I hope so,” Jisung sighed. “She’s barely slept since we got here.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you two stress her out?”

“Us two?” Felix asked, joining in. “What could we possibly be doing to stress her out?”

“Being yourselves, for starters.”

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival at your floor. You lifted your head from Jisung’s shoulder and stepped out into the hall with him right behind you. Minho fished the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door for the rest of you, holding it open so that everyone else could file in. 

Jisung placed you on the bed and tried to get you to sit up. He brushed your hair out of your face before wrapping his arms around you and hoisting you upright. 

“Baby,” he whispered, “do you want to take a shower before you go to bed?”

You nodded. 

“Come on, let’s get you up.”

You had lost count of how many times Jisung had gotten you into the shower or the bath by now. Every time you got too drunk, too sleepy, or too depressed to take care of yourself he was always there, waiting to do it himself. It was like a tradeoff for all the times you’d edited his essays, all the times you’d played wingman for him at the karaoke club, all the times you’d stayed up until sunrise helping him perfect a recipe. 

He helped you onto your feet and over to the bathroom, hanging the towel you had used the night before on the hook behind the door. He started the water for you and hung the showerhead over the side of the tub so that it could get warm. 

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

You paused. “Can you stay?”

Jisung nodded, hesitant, but steady. “What do you need me to do?”

“I just want you to sit with me. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course that’s okay.” He turned away and slowly crouched down until he was sitting on the floor with his back against the tub. 

You took a deep breath and began to undress, trying not to think too much about the implications. You had seen each other naked plenty of times. On more than one occasion Jisung had been the one washing your hair while you sat in the bathtub after a night out. But that sort of vulnerability with your best friend felt different now. It had felt different since you landed in Seoul almost a month ago. 

And maybe that’s why you had asked him to stay. You were grasping for any sort of normalcy that still remained between you, or you were trying to recover it. 

You pulled your t-shirt over your head first, letting it fall to the floor. You then unclipped your bra, dropping it on top of your t-shirt. Jisung wasn’t even looking at you, but you still felt self-conscious as you shimmied out of your jeans and underwear. 

You picked up the showerhead and stepped into the tub at the same time, accidentally spraying Jisung in the process. 

“Hey!”

“Sorry!”

“Watch where you point that thing!”

“Watch where you point that thing,” you mocked. “That’s what she said.”

“I will get up and leave right now.”

“No, don’t!” you protested. “I’m sorry.”

Jisung acted like he was about to get up, but ended up just shifting his position against the tub. You laughed to yourself, bringing the showerhead up to your shoulders to rinse your body. You lathered yourself in the hotel’s body wash, listening to Jisung hum in the background. 

“What are your brothers going to think?” you asked aloud. You realized they might question why you were both in the bathroom at the same time. 

“I don’t know,” Jisung said with a shrug. “Why?”

“I don’t want them to think we’re fucking in here or something.”

“They don’t think that.”

“How do you know?”

“Because they know we’re loud when we do.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Go us.”

“I mean, you can start moaning or something if you want them to think that.”

“I literally just said I didn’t want them to think that.”

“Well, if you change your mind-”

“Do you want me to spray you again?”

Jisung flipped you off even though he couldn’t see you and you rolled your eyes at him behind his back. You washed off the soap and moved on to your face, using the same body wash to scrub your cheeks and forehead. 

You knew every single one of your friends back home would cringe if they saw you washing your face with something other than face wash, but in your defense you didn’t really have a skincare routine anyway. One of them had forced you to buy face wash a moisturizer a while back, but you rarely remembered to use it. You didn’t think to get a travel container for them either, so you were left using whatever accommodations provided. 

“Can you believe we’re in Japan?’ Jisung asked suddenly.

You looked down at the top of his head, wondering what had prompted the question.

“Not really,” you admitted.  

“Me either.”

“We used to talk about traveling together,” you added thoughtfully. 

“Yeah, and we kind of did! Remember, we took that road trip with my roommates a couple years ago to the west coast.”

“We tried to go to the west coast. Your Prius didn’t make it past Ohio.”

“It was actually the tires that didn’t make it past Ohio. My car was perfectly fine once we got them replaced. We only had to go back home because we spent all our motel money on the tow truck and the auto shop.”

“I don’t think engines are supposed to smoke, though.”

“Whatever. Can you hurry up, I still need to shower,” Jisung urged. “And so do my brothers.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

You rinsed your face and turned off the water. Jisung stood and grabbed your towel for you, handing it to you with his back turned. You dried off and wrapped the towel around yourself like a dress. 

In your half-awake state you hadn’t thought to grab your pajamas to change into before you got in the shower.

Jisung noticed your pause almost immediately. 

“Did you want me to-”

“No, it’s okay I can grab them myself. We’ll probably get less questions that way.”

He gave you a look that said I don’t know about that, but let you go, following you into the room. 

Minho and Felix were sitting at the table playing cards. They both looked up when they heard the door and then looked back down when they saw you in nothing but a towel. You wanted to laugh at their instinctive panic, but mostly you found it endearing. 

You made your way past the boys to your suitcase where you began digging around for something to sleep in.

“You’re still dressed?” Felix asked, now turned in Jisung’s direction. 

“I was just keeping her company, asshole.”

“Don’t give me that look! Just thought maybe you were saving water, is all.”

“Yeah, right.”

You brushed back past the three of them, locking yourself in the bathroom once more to get dressed. You hung your towel up since you didn’t need to dry your hair and then let yourself out back into the room, trading places with Jisung. 

“I knew they’d still give us shit,” he whispered. “You should’ve let me get your clothes for you.”

“It’s not a big deal. And let’s be real, it’s only Felix who gives us shit.”

“Felix’s the only one who ever says anything because he has no filter, but Minho thinks that way too, trust me.”

You shook your head as you left, closing the door behind you. You caught Minho’s eye as soon as you stepped into the room. 

“Hey, you can put all your laundry in the canvas bag by the door. It’s gonna get washed tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.”

You shoved the clothes you’d just been wearing into the bag and then made your way over to your suitcase to collect the rest of your dirty laundry. You did the same with Jisung’s clothes, sorting through his suitcase to find all of the things he’d already worn. 

“Wanna play?” Felix asked once you were done.

“Sure,” you said, sliding out a chair for yourself. “Deal me in.”

“We’re playing Go Fish,” Minho explained. 

Felix gathered his and Minho’s stack of cards and re-shuffled them into the deck, dealing each of you new hands. You looked at your hand and grimaced. You only had one match, a pair of jacks, while the two boys both had two sets of pairs. 

“Thanks a lot, Felix,” you grumbled.

“You shuffle next time, then,” he shot back. 

“I will.”

“Minho, since you lost last round, you can go first.”

“We didn’t even finish the last round! There wasn’t a winner.”

“Well you were losing at the time, so it still counts.”

“I don’t think I was,” Minho argued. “I’m pretty sure you had more cards in your hand than I did.”

“Too bad we’ll never know,” Felix chirped. “Just take your goddamn turn.”

Minho sighed, rotating to face you. His annoyed expression was quickly replaced with a cocky one. He smirked at you, eyeing you over his hand of cards. 

“Y/n, do you have any sixes?”

You glanced down at your cards in disbelief. “How’d you know? Did you look at my cards?”

“Just a lucky guess,” he replied and held out a hand expectantly. You reluctantly passed over your six of diamonds. “Thank you. Do you have any twos?”

“Oh my god, again? Why do you keep asking me?” you complained as you held your cards to your chest, jutting out your bottom lip in a pout. 

“Being cute doesn’t exempt you from the rules,” Minho chided, beckoning with his fingers for you to give him the card. 

A beat lapsed as the three of you processed the fact that Minho had just called you cute. You froze, unsure of what to do. He probably hadn’t meant it to come across like that, but it’s what it sure as hell sounded like. And no one at the table missed the connotation, including Minho whose ears were turning red. 

“I mean,” he stuttered, “just give me the two.” 

You held the card out for him to take without responding. He plucked the card from your grasp, careful not to brush his fingers against yours, and paired it with his two of hearts on the table in front of him. He turned to Felix. “Do you have any kings?”

Felix narrowed his eyes at his older brother. “No. Go fish.”

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[bepisbee]

ive seen a lot of four forge blacksmith stuff so heres a silly little thingy

shadows part dragon (and lives) (i am not a blacksmith and have limited knowledge so if i’m wrong please don't hate me pretend its magic idk) they/them for four as a four because they’re a group but not meant to be a system dynamic, it's more magic like gem fusion and they’re all like there. vidow romantic, the other colors are qpp with shadow.

They worked a little better fused, when in the forge. Of course everyone had to be in agreement to do so. It was one of those days. The colors shone through Four’s eyes in rainbow coloring as they sat a metal shape over roasting coals. A large protective apron sat over their undershirt and heavy duty gloves to protect their hands. Their friend and partial platonic partner stood across from them. While Four was sweating from the heat, they glanced up concerned that Shadow seemed unfazed. Was it all the time on death mountain? Shadow watched them aptly as they distractedly pulled the metal with tongs and dropped it. It fell quickly towards their boots. Shadow reacted immediately.

With his bare hands, he caught the hot metal dagger. One fourth of them froze in realization of some very important facts they never shared. Also the only part that noticed how Shadow’s palm turned into black scales where the metal touched. All the rest of them began panicking about it. They spoke at the same time making gibberish out. Shadow placed the metal down gently.

“Hey, hey, It’s fine.” he raised his hands up, one still scaled. “I’m fine.” as he blinked his eyes were more slit than normal pupils. It made Four fall apart.

“Oof!”

“Shit-sorry you alright?”

“ohmygods.”

“...oops.”

Shadow looked between them as Blue helped up Green who he’d accidentally knocked over. Red was staring open mouthed, and Vio was looking between him and the group looking sheepish.

“Ha… Uhm. Surprise?” Vio tugged awkwardly at his sleeve. “Sorry, I didn’t really think to mention…”

As he spoke Blue came up and inspected Shadow’s scaled hand, turning it over and gently running his thumb across where he’d held the metal.

“Huh.”

“Y-yeah. I didn’t really wanna weird y’all out.” Shadow excuses. Really he was self conscious about being part literal monster. “Sorry I scared ya.” Blue seemed satisfied he was ok and let him go.

“Don’t do that again.” 

“Wait- “ Green stared pointedly at Vio. “You knew??”

“Of course I knew,” he scoffs. “We lived in a volcano, Green.” he rolled his eyes. “Shadow being extra and running his damn hands through lava falls to show off was a regular occurance.”

“You say that like it didn’t work,” Shadow cocked a hip with his arms crossed. “You treated me like an experiment to dissect.” Despite the wording, he was obviously infatuated with the idea. “You wanna know everything~” Vio turned red.

“Oh shut up.”

“You have a notebook that contains an imprint of my teeth.”

“You do??” Red perked up. “Can I see? Shadow won’t let me! He said they were too sharp.”

“Because you’ll hurt yourself! And then Blue would beat me up!”

“Damn right I would.”

“Okay,” Green took off their apron and hung it up with the gloves. “I think this calls for a break.” 

Red began following them back into the house, badgering Shadow with questions. “Are your claws actually talons? Do you have a tail? Wings?? Can I touch them?”

Vio smirks, he’s also given their partner the third degree about his body. Positively of course.

“Sort of, not the kind you’re thinking of, but you can touch it, and no wings.” Shadow grins his sharp predator teeth. “Ow!” Vio smacks his arm.

“Really??” he reprimanded. Shadow just laughed. They sat in their kitchen letting Blue make the tea. Shadow offered his hands palm up for them on the table. His arms and hands shifted into shiny black scales, some of them with a violet shine in the light. His red eyes slitted, although still pretty big pupils considering his company.

“Watch the nails, very sharp.”

Red and Green inspected him. Vio watched in amusement. This was going to take awhile.

BONUS

Vio held Shadow’s clawed hands in awe. “That really was nothing to you?” The shiny black scales were smooth as he felt them.

“Haha yeah, cool right?”

“Is it just your hands?” Vio looked him over like he wanted to devour him. Shadow was about to learn just how much Vio and curiosity really fell together as the same word.

“Oh no, I can make my whole body do that!”

“Can I see? How does it work? Does it hurt? Can you feel this?” Vio ran his hand across his arm. The shiver answered that question. “Do you feel warmth at all? Does cold bother you?? Are you warmer inside than Hylians?” He put a wrist on Shadow’s forehead. “Woah, you are. huh. woah!” Shadow’s pupils blew wide at the contact. “That was cool!” He cupped his face to look closer and Shadow’s cheeks flushed. He honestly thought Vio was going to kiss him; he was so close. “Is that why you have sharp teeth? Do you eat more meat? I haven’t been around you to eat yet… Are you planning on eating me??” He let go.

“Haha calm down, I wouldn't eat you. No matter how good you might taste.” The joke went right over the poor boy’s head. “I’ll answer you but one at a time alright?” He offered his hand. “Come on, let’s get inside first.” Vio took it gratefully. They didn’t let go even after returning home.

[marvelmusing]

The First Move

Part of the Tender Loving Care AU

Pairing: Vampire!Aleksander Morozova x Vampire!Fem!Reader

Summary: A prequel to part one. Alina discovers that you aren’t utilising the dating profile she had set up for you four months ago and decides to help you find a match - leading you to Aleksander.

Warnings: brief mentions of blood consumption, general vampire themes

My Masterlist

“What about him?”

Alina turns your phone around, showing you the screen. A wince crinkles at your features as the uncharacteristic brightness glares at you. With a quick swipe of your fingers, you lower the brightness down to its usual level.

Then you look at the dating profile Alina is showing you. Aleksander Morozova. 1048 years old. Male. He/Him. Vampire (N).

“He’s your type,” she adds, and your eyes flicker over the photo at the top of the screen.

She’s right, he is your type.

Dark eyes that you could lose yourself in, and dark hair to match. A loose strand hangs over his forehead, somehow making him even more attractive. His facial hair is trimmed neatly around his pink lips and the sight of his smile sends a flutter through your stomach.

Alina holds onto the phone patiently as you look through his photos.

The first one was taken at some outdoor cafe, with the sun shining down on him. He’s wearing a white shirt with the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up casually to reveal his forearms. A pair of sunglasses had been tucked into the front of his shirt, and he is smiling widely at something off camera.

The next photo is more formal, dark lighting casting shadows over his features. He’s adjusting the cufflinks on his sleeve, dark gaze locked on the silver between his fingers, and you swallow hard at the sight of him. The last two photos are as equally enticing as the first two.

You shake your head.

“There’s no way he would match with me.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she remarks lightly, twirling her thumb over the screen with a hopeful expression.

Alina had set up your dating profile a while ago and had been disappointed earlier this morning when you had rather sheepishly admitted you hadn’t opened the app since she had done so. Which was how you arrived here, sitting in your kitchen as Alina sorted through the disastrous matches that had attempted to message you.

It had given the two of you some entertainment reading through the cringy pick up lines and awkward profile descriptions. But then she had begun hunting for your own match. Leading you to Aleksander.

You sigh, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Okay, fine. Go for it.”

She beams, pressing the heart button on Aleksander’s profile.

“You have to let me know as soon as he messages you.”

“If,” you correct her as she hands your phone back to you. Looking down at Aleksander’s photo for a few seconds, you remind yourself not to get your hopes up before you swipe off the app and close your phone. Alina shakes her head in disagreement.

“I have a good feeling about him.”

For the rest of the afternoon, you forget about Aleksander and the impending response from the little red app tucked away on your phone.

By the sound of it, the apartment above you has a group of friends over for a party. Nothing disruptive or overly noisy but with your sensitive ears picking up on every note of their music, the sound of conversation and laughter, as well as the occasional door slamming, you are struggling to relax enough to sleep.

In the room beside yours, Alina’s breathing is rhythmic, she must have fallen asleep quickly, as usual.

Staring up at the ceiling, you try not to become too frustrated with the situation. There’s nothing you can do about it, but your exhaustion is wearing away at your patience.

Then the screen of you phone lights up the room from where it’s sitting on your bedside table. It doesn’t make a noise or even a buzz, the vibrations sometimes startled you, so you had turned them off over a year ago.

Squinting at the screen, you make a mental note to order a new screen protector – one of those vampire friendly ones you had seen that would dim your screen to a less intense level of brightness.

When you read the notification your stomach flips, and you unplug your phone from its charger, sitting up against you headboard with the thought of sleep long abandoned.

Aleksander has accepted your match request! You have [one] new message.

Holding your breath, incredibly aware of your heart pounding in your chest, you click on the notification. The app takes a few seconds to load but before you know it you’re staring down at Aleksander’s message.

Aleksander: Hello milaya

A smile tugs at your lips at the Old Ravkan term of endearment, still hardly believing he had decided to accept your request. Fingers shaking slightly, you type out a shy response.

You: Hi

It takes him under a minute to reply.

Aleksander: I wasn’t expecting a response at this hour

Aleksander: Nocturnal?

Plenty of vampires prefer the night time, whereas think you enjoy both day and night equally.

The solitude of night was often your only refuge, but the darkness brought back bad memories at times. Whilst the day time and hustle of the world was overwhelming, you liked having your own part in it all, and nothing could compare to the warmth of the summer sun on your naturally cold skin.

You: Not intentionally

You: Noisy neighbours

Aleksander: Ah

Aleksander: Might I suggest noise cancelling headphones?

You: I have some but they’re not the comfiest   

Aleksander: In that case, shall I keep you company?

Aleksander: Unless you would like to sleep, I can wait until morning

You: I’d like you to

You: But don’t want to keep you from your sleep

Aleksander: Nonsense, I’m wide awake

You: Nocturnal?

Aleksander: No just an insomniac

Aleksander: Though I did try living nocturnally for a few years, I felt there was too much of a disconnect with rest of the world because of it

You: I can see how that would happen

You: Though I suppose it wouldn’t be too bad nowadays with 24-hour stores and restaurants

You: I’d miss the sun far too much to try it

Aleksander: Do you mind my asking how old you are?

At that, you frown. You remember seeing Aleksander’s age on his profile. Had Alina not added yours when she created your account? Perhaps she couldn’t remember your age, and didn’t want to ask you. Some vampires are sensitive about it, waiting until they reach their mid-two hundreds before they tell people their age.

You: It isn’t on my profile?

Aleksander: Not that I could see

You: In all honesty I don’t really know what my profile looks like

You: My friend set it up for me a while ago

Aleksander: Not a fan of technology?

You: Technology isn’t a fan of me

You: And I’m 198

It’s only as you’re typing out your age that you realise how large the age gap between you and Aleksander is. It wasn’t even something you had considered when you requested a match with him, but now you’re nervous, wondering if he will think you’re not as genuine because of your age.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re sending a stream of messages.

You: I don’t do casual dating or going out for a night at the club

You: And my friend Alina thought this would be a good way of me seeing what’s out there without making myself uncomfortable

You: Because I want to find someone to spend my time with

You: But I like getting to know people before I let them in

Once you’re finished, you watch the typing bubble appear and disappear beside his icon several times. Hurriedly you add,

You: Sorry for rambling like that

Within thirty seconds Aleksander answers.

Aleksander: There’s no need to be sorry

Some of the tension leaves your shoulders, allowing you to wait patiently for his response.

Aleksander: It’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone in

Aleksander: To tell you the truth I think I’ve become too comfortable

Aleksander: My routine has become rather monotonous without someone else to coexist with

Aleksander: I understand your want for companionship despite how difficult it seems to find the right person

There’s a short pause, before he adds,

Aleksander: It appears I have also startled to ramble

You: Yours was much more philosophical than mine

You: With age comes wisdom I suppose

Aleksander: Are you calling me an old man, milaya?

At the return of the term of endearment you find yourself smiling as butterflies swoop through your stomach.

You: Not old just older

Aleksander: Flatterer

Aleksander: Your profile mentioned a love of books

Aleksander: I hope your friend didn’t exaggerate your hobbies

You: No she didn’t

Aleksander: Any recommendations for me?

The two of you message back and forth until the early hours of the morning and Aleksander is the one to encourage you to put your phone down and get some sleep. With his last message in your mind, wishing you sweet dreams, you settle down under the covers and imagine Aleksander in bed beside you. It doesn’t take you long to drop off.

As the sun rises, you wake. Not nearly enough hours of sleep for you to feel fully rested but you pull yourself out of bed. As the world outside becomes busier there’s always a very little chance of you falling asleep again, so you’ve resigned yourself to being a rather reluctant morning person.

Usually such a lack of sleep would have you feeling disjointed and eager to climb back into bed. Instead, you open the kitchen cupboard and take out two mugs with the intention of making tea for yourself and Alina.

She wanders in from her bedroom as you’re stirring in her sugar, careful not the tap the metal against the side of the mug. The sound of dishes clinking together might set off a headache with your lack of sleep.

Alina thanks you for her tea, watching as you begin to make your own. As you’re stirring in the milk, white liquid swirling through scolding hot blood, your phone lights up with a notification. Once you’ve discarded your spoon you settle down on the kitchen peninsula opposite to Alina and read the good morning message from Aleksander.

Alina narrows her eyes at you, though you hardly notice as you type out a response.

“You seem chipper this morning,” she observes as she blows on her tea.

Putting your phone down, you take a sip of your own tea, nose wrinkling at the taste. The temperature is perfect, but you must have put too much blood in it. When your screen lights up once again you attempt to remain casual, taking another sip of your rather dissatisfying tea instead of reading the message.

Alina smiles.

“He accepted your request then?”

A shy smile tugs at your lips as you look down into your mug, then you nod.

“Yeah.”

Her smile widens.

“And?”

After only a few hours of messaging with Aleksander, you feel closer to him than you have to anyone for over the last one hundred years. Your next words are tentative, as you admit,

“I think I like him.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu

TLC Tag List: @holamor @that-sarcastic-writer @vaguekayla @ramadiiiisme @patniera

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny

-

[holdmytesseract]

Against the odds

Epilogue - Happily Ever After

a/n: Well... This is it. We reached the epilogue of a wonderful story. I hope you like this epilogue. ☺️ I had sooo much fun working and writing with @ladycamillewrites on this fabulous story. It's been an honour, my lovely friend! ❤

And you can be sure, guys... This wasn't the last time I and Camille teamed up. 😁

Word Count: 4,1k

Warnings for the Epilogue: a loooot of fluff, pregnancy, birth (It's a bit graphic), more fluff

I'm no birthing expert, but I tried. ☺️

Masterlist

Belsize Park, London, UK - Four Months Later

"Are you really sure we can still go out to eat in the restaurant, darling?" You nodded, confidently. "Of course, babe! My contractions are still light years apart! Annie said it's okay if I would stay home for a while longer. When my water breaks, then we can start to worry - and I am miles away from that, believe me, Tommy." The Brit bit his lip, still not quite convinced. "Are you really sure? To 100 per cent?" You rolled your eyes, but smiled, and wrapped both your arms around your boyfriend's neck. "Yes, Thomas. To 100 per cent." He placed both his hands on the sides of your very big baby bump, tracing gentle circles in the clothed skin. "I'm just worried, love..." "I know." "But if you say it's okay, then let's go..." A bright smile darted over your face. You had looked forward to this dinner in your favourite restaurant. Since you moved to Tom two months ago, you went there quite a few times. Especially, because they always had, what you craved. "Let's go." You said as well, before pressing a kiss to his lips. "Everything is going to be fine." That was what you said - but only about an hour later, you were disabused…

The main course had been absolutely delicious, just like the soup you had as first course. Now it was finally time to dig into the dessert - and no, you didn't mean Tom this time... You meant the extraordinarily delicious looking Mousse au Chocolate, standing mere inches away from you on the table. Your mouth watered alone at the sight of it, so you quickly reached for the little spoon and digged into the sugary treat. Tom just eyed you from opposite the table with a giggle. But just when you were about to take the first spoonful of the Mousse, you suddenly felt a small gush, causing the spoon in your hand to clatter down on the table. The shocked expression on your face was clearly visible, what triggered the panic inside Tom. "Darling? What's wrong?!" "Um... I uh... I am not sure if I just peed myself or if my water broke..." You explained your panicking boyfriend, smiling uptight. All Tom could do was blinking at you. "I-I beg you pardon?" You let out a nervous chuckle. "Well, um, I-I am not sure if-" You cut off your own sentence with a hiss, as you felt a sharp pain in your lower abdomen, announcing a contraction. "Darling... Was that a-" "Contraction, yes." You said through gritted teeth, breathing through the much worse contraction than the others had been. "I, uh, think it was option B..."

Tom swallowed, still needed a moment to realise what was happening, but once his brain had processed the information, he literally jumped up from the chair, "Shit, baby, we need to get you into the hospital!" and hastily rounded the table, in order to help you stand up. That wasn't an easy task, given the fact that you were nine months pregnant with twins, your water just broke - giving you the uneasy feeling of having peed yourself and having contractions. Thumbs up! Life was great! To your luck, you had Tom, who paid the bill for dinner in lighting speed, before rushing to your side once again. He steadied you, wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you through the not so crowded private area of the restaurant and towards his car - what he had luckily parked right around the corner, so the way for you to walk wasn't that far. Although, walking wasn't quite the right term to describe your movement. It was rather 'stumbling forwards'.

Once you made it safely to the car, Tom helped you inside. "Everything alright, darling?" Your boyfriend asked, oceanic blue eyes filled with worry, but also excitement looking at you. You nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, thanks, Tommy." He smiled, "No need to thank me, love. As your boyfriend and father of our little Hiddles, it's my duty to help you." and pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead. "Now let's get you to the hospital."

The ride to said hospital was rather uneventful. Sure, your water broke and your contractions intensified, were closer together, but not as close that you were already able to give birth. Tom's hand rested on your knee the whole drive, tracing calming patterns into your clothed skin.

About forty minutes later, you were in the maternity ward on the third floor, in one of the delivery rooms, changed into an ugly hospital gown and checked by the doctors. Everything seemed to be just as it had to be. Although, you weren't dilated enough to push yet, so you had to wait; killing the time your body needed, in order to get yourself ready for the birth.

Now you were steadying yourself against the foot end of the bed, as you breathed through another contraction. Tom stood beside you, suit jacket long thrown aside, rubbing small circles over your back in order to help you through it. "You're doing great, my love." Hearing the encouraging words of your boyfriend, paired with the subsiding pain of the contraction, caused the final realisation of the situation to dawn on you... You were in the hospital. About to give birth to twins. You would be able to hold the baby in your arms you always wanted. Even better... You were not blessed with one, but two babies - who were going to be the perfect mix of you and the man of your dreams. A soft giggle left your lips at your thoughts, much to the Brit's confusion. "Y/N? Are you okay?" You nodded, straightening yourself up and turning around to face Tom. "Given the circumstances, yes. It's just... Tommy, we are going to be parents in a few hours... Can you believe that?" A soft smile crept up his handsome face. "Surreal, isn't it?" "Very." Tom took a step closer, rested both his hands on your big bump and his forehead against yours. "I can't wait to meet them." You smiled, "Me neither." and blinked away a few tears of happiness. "I'm so happy, Tommy." You whispered, closing your eyes. "I'm happy too, darling... And utterly terrified." Another small giggle left your lips. You knew that Tom's anxiety level had gotten higher and higher the closer you got to your due date. Quite normal for a dad-to-be - so Chris told you. "I know, babe, I know... But I guess that's quite normal. I am angsty, too..." You felt Tom nod. "Think so too... Chris told me he was almost 'shitting his pants' as well." You snorted out another laugh at your boyfriend's choice of words, knowing that he just quoted your brother. "Well, in that case I feel reassured."

The next three hours were spent with waiting, breathing through steadily pain increasing contractions, several doctors, nurses and Annie (your midwife) checking in on you and your precious cargo and, of course, calling several members of yours and Tom's family. Tom called his mum and sisters, your parents, Benedict and lastly Chris, while you managed to call Liam and Luke.

"Well, hello there, mate!" Chris' happy voice echoed through Tom's mobile, as he made his way back from getting himself a coffee. A doctor was currently checking in on you and Tom used those few minutes, in which you were in safe hands, to get some caffeine inside his system. Not that he needed it. The adrenaline inside his veins was already running high, but it was late and he desperately wanted something to hydrate himself; and since the cafeteria was closed at this late hour, the coffee vending machine was the place to go. "Chris, hey." "What's up, Tom? Everything alright? How's Y/N?" The Brit decided to not beat about the bush and tell his close friend straight away what was going on. "Well, about that... We're in the hospital since about, um..." He took a quick look on his watch. "Four hours. Y/N's gone into labour." An excited squeal - yes, squeal urged to Tom's ears from the other end of the line. "Ahh, oh my goodness! Elsa?! Sweetheart?!" Tom could hear her voice from a faint distance, calling out for Chris. "Y/N went into labour! The twins are on their way!" Suddenly could hear the dad-to-be his best friend's wife's voice loud and clear. "Oh my, really??!!" "Yes! Tom's on the phone!" "That's so exciting!" Elsa's words were directed to Chris, but then she addressed Tom as well. "Hi Tom!" The blonde brown-haired man chuckled at his friend's and family's clearly audible excitement. "Hey Elsa." "How's Y/N doing? Are the twins okay? She isn't already able to push, is she?!" Elsa immediately bombarded him with questions. "Given the circumstances, she's doing well. Just like the twins. Everything's okay." A relieved breath left both, Chris and Elsa's lips. "Good, that's good." "Yes. I'm very glad everything's going so smoothly. I hope it stays that way." "She's in good hands, Tom. Birthing twins is not easy, but believe me, it's going to be fine. If someone knows, it's me." Tom chuckled at Elsa's words, knowing that this was a 100 per cent true.

Unfortunately, Tom couldn't get to answer Elsa's last question, because he saw Annie leaving your room and making her way down the hallway towards him. "Uh, guys, I'm afraid I have to go. I am going to text you, as soon as the twins are born. Bye." Before either Chris or Elsa were able to answer Tom, he had hung up. Quickly stuffing his mobile back into his pocket, he rushed down the hallway to meet Annie halfway. "Tom! I'm glad I could find you straight away." The Brit's eyes widened in sheer horror, assuming the worst. "Why? Is something wrong?!" He asked in a shaky, panicky voice. Annie quickly shook her head, stilling his fears immediately. "No, no, don't worry. Everything is alright." Tom felt how the sudden shock was subsiding again. "In fact, everything is more than alright... Y/N is dilated enough to push." Once again, the Brit's eyes widened. "S-She's ready to push?" Annie nodded, smiling. "Yes. You're about to meet your children, dad." Tom felt how his heartbeat quickened in pure excitement, happiness and anticipation. "Come on. Let's get you ready. I'm sure you want to be at Y/N's side, right?" He nodded quickly. "Yes, please. Gods, yes!" The midwife giggled at Tom's sudden rush of excitement - one reason why she loved her job so much.

Within a few minutes, Tom had slipped into a dark blue protective gown and entered together with Annie the delivery room again, in which you laid in the bed, ready to finally bring the twins into this world. The room was literally crowded with people. A doctor, two midwives, a nurse... Annie told Tom to take a seat beside you, what he immediately did, placing his coffee on the small table beside your bed. But hence, the coffee was the least important thing now. "Tommy!" You literally whined, quickly reaching for his hands to feel his comforting touch. "I'm here now. I'm here, darling." He spoke in a soothing voice, trying to calm you down. You were definitely more nervous, shaky and afraid than before Tom left to get his coffee. But it was no wonder. Of course, was your nervosity level shooting through the roof now. It was time, after all.  Your boyfriend leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, which was already dotted with sweat from the painful contractions you already went through. But both, you and Tom knew, that it was most likely going to get worse. "We're going to make this, okay? Together." You took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, Y/N..." Annie spoke up, drawing in your attention. "Everything is ready. We are prepared to meet your baby – and we are all here to help you, so don't worry. We got this." She said, giving you an encouraging smile. Gods... You loved that woman... "So, as soon as you feel the urge to push... Push." "O-Okay..."

Countless pushes and an excruciating hour filled with pain, tears and sweat later, you had almost done it. Almost. "I can see baby number one's head, Y/N! You almost did it. One more push and one twin is here!" Annie's words encouraged you immensely, just like Tom's and his hands around your hand, as you laid there - a sweaty, tired and painful mess. "Come on, love, you can do it. I know it." Tom whispered with a smile, giving your hand a squeeze. You nodded and with the next contraction, you felt the urge to push - and pushed. A loud whine slipped past your lips, as you felt a sudden pop. "You've done it, Y/N!" Announced Annie, accompanied by a small cry of a baby. "And we've got here... Your baby boy!" At those words, both yours and Tom's world suddenly seemed to stop. Time froze still. You exchanged a look, happy tears glistening in both your eyes. Sometimes, a single gaze spoke more than words ever could. That was exactly such a moment - which got gently interrupted by Annie. "Hey, Tom, do you want to cut the cord?" His head snapped down to the friendly midwife. "Yes, please." "Come here, then." Almost like remote-controlled stood the now dad up and joined Annie in order to cut the cord. His hands were quite a bit shaking and he had to hold back his tears, but he made it.

Once Annie treated the wound and wrapped the new bundle of joy up in a fluffy towel, she turned back to Tom. "Would you like to hold your little man, dad?" "M-May I?" The midwife nodded, "Of course!" and handed the new born carefully over. Tom felt a wave of pure pride, joy and love flooding his veins, as he looked down at his own flesh and blood. Slowly, he made his way over to you and sat down beside you on the chair, eyes glued to the baby in his arms. "Darling..." He started, but his words got stuck in his throat, as the tears started to fall. You were an emotional mess as well, of course. You had started to cry out of happiness, as soon as your baby boy cried for the first time. You reached out your hand to touch the baby's teeny tiny hand, when another contraction hit you, reminding you, that there was another baby, who desperately wanted to see the light of the day. "Ugh." You whined, gritting your teeth at the sudden rush of pain. "Oop! Seems like your baby girl is ready to come out as well!" Annie quickly jumped to see what was going on between your legs. "Yes! I think I can see the head! Two pushes, Y/N and she should be here!" "Okay, okay, okay..." You said, clearly out of breath. "I'm here, my love. You did so well, bringing our baby boy into this world. You can do it again." Tom leaned down to kiss you, while still holding baby one in his arms.

Two pushes later, you felt another pop and heard a second cry, announcing the birth of your little girl. "Tom, your turn again?" Annie asked for the second time, looking at him with a smile. Eagerly the Brit stood up, handing the boy over to the second midwife, who took him into the adjoining room to bath and weigh him. Tom cut the cord of his second child, before taking the swaddled baby girl over to you. With teary eyes, you smiled up at your boyfriend, watching him sitting down beside you and lower his arms, so that you were able to look at your daughter. You were absolutely speechless, not able to say a single word, but to cry happy tears. Tom was, of course, crying once again too. You felt his tears dripping down on your cheeks, when he bent over to kiss you. Annie then took the baby with her as well, in order to bath and weigh her and to check if she was alright.

After getting over the afterbirth and all cleaned up, you were brought into another room, where you would spend the next few days. Tom accompanied you, of course, not letting go of your hand for even a second. The two of you had barely reached the room, when Annie and the other lovely midwife joined you; both of them pushing two little baby beds. "They are both perfectly healthy. Everything is as it should be." Annie said with a sweet smile. "Congrats to you both." "Thank you." Then she turned to you. "Y/N, you did amazing. How are you feeling now?" You gave the woman a small, almost delirious smile. "Happy, sweaty and utterly tired. Thank you." The midwife nodded, "Rest now, sleep a bit if you can. Tom?" and turned to face the blonde brown-haired man. "You can stay here if you want, of course. We arranged this bed for you, which is big enough for the both of you." Annie said, winking. "Thank you very much, Annie." "You're welcome. And Tom... Have you already decided on names for those two? If yes, then I can write them down on their crib cards and finish them." "Oh, of course, yes, sorry." "No need to apologise. It's quite a bit overwhelming, I know." The Brit's cheeks reddened slightly, as he made his way over to the midwife to help her finish the crib cards. "Grace and Frankie - two wonderful names."

Before Annie left, she helped you feeding the newborns for the first time and informed you that she is going to check on you and the twins once in a while. Now, it was time to share the first proper moments as a family of four. While Frankie was still eating in your arms, had Grace dozed off in Tom's arms. "Tommy..." You whispered your boyfriend's name. "Can you believe that? We are parents now..." A soft chuckle left Tom's lips. "I know... That's so unbelievable and yet..." He brushed his thumb gently over Grace's tiny cheek. "So real." "Mhhh... Everything I ever wanted is suddenly here in my arms." Indeed. Life was perfect in that moment. You were able to hold your son and daughter in your arms. You had a wonderful boyfriend and father of your children. 'The Moralizer' literally went through the roof; blew up cinemas all around the world and their box offices. And the publicity had finally accepted you. What more could you wish for?

"Thank you, Y/N." Tom spoke up again. "Thank you for giving me your love, this life and our children. I am the happiest man on earth right now."

The first night - or well, rather rest of the night as parents went smoother than expected. Sure, the babies cried a few times, but Tom was quick to sooth them. He was a natural in your eyes. The morning was spent with enjoying precious family time together, Tom doing once again several phone calls and carrying both twins around - being the proud dad he was. Of course, he went home for an hour or so, to take a shower, freshen up a bit, get you and the twins a few clothes and to eat something. On his way back to the hospital, he picked up his mom to take her to see her grandchildren for the first time. Diana was of course super excited and happy.

"Hey, mom." Tom greeted his mother, as he leaned against the car with a smile. "Tom." She immediately came towards him with open arms, hugging her son close. "Congratulations, Thomas. I am so so happy for you and Y/N." The Brit felt how a single tear escaped the corner of his eye. "Thank you so much, mom." Diana pulled back from the hug, cupped her son's cheeks with a smile. "I am very proud of you. I love you." Tom couldn't help himself but hug his mother once again, pressing a kiss on her cheek on the way. "I love you, too."

The ride to the hospital was filled with conversations about the previous night. How the birth was, how you were feeling and how it was for Tom to cut the cords and so on. Arrived at the hospital, Tom took Diana immediately to your room. "There we are." He said, opening the door quietly - just in case you or the twins were sleeping. Turned out, you weren't asleep, just like Grace, who was laying in your arms. Frankie was asleep, though. "Hey, darling." Your boyfriend greeted you, stepping over to the bed for a kiss. "Hi, babe." Another kiss. "I brought a guest, my love. Hope that's okay." You looked past Tom, seeing Diana standing in the door frame, smiling. "Of course! Hi Diana!" She gently closed the door behind her and stepped closer as well. "Hello, my dear. How are y- Awww..." She cut off her own sentence, as Tom lifted the sleeping Frankie out of his crib, in order to show Diana the newborn. "Oh my... Look at you... So cute and tiny." Tom's mom approached the baby, reaching out her hand to touch the little boy's hand. "Hi Frankie, I'm your granny." She cooed, looking at her grandson with heart eyes. "He's not even a day old and he already looks like you, Thomas. Got your nose, lips and even the curls." Diana said with a small laugh, running her fingers through the blonde-brown tufts of hair on the baby boy's head. "You think so, mom?" "Mhm." She would've marvelled Frankie longer, if Grace wouldn't have had something against it, announcing her presence with a soft cry, which attracted Diana's attention. You immediately started to rock the baby girl gently, trying to shush her, while Diana passed by Tom and went straight to you. "Oh hello, you sweet, sweet girl." The elderly woman couldn't take her eyes of the little girl, was already completely in love. "She's so sweet - and looks a lot like her beautiful mama." Your cheeks reddened slightly at Diana's compliment. "Got your hair and definitely your eyes." "And my nose, said Tom." Diana chuckled, "That too, yes." and looked up to you. "May I hold her?" You nodded, "Of course." and handed Grace over to her granny. "Hi Grace, I'm your granny." The baby girl looked up at her grandmother with big, sleepy eyes. You watched Diana and Tom softly speaking to Grace and Frankie; carrying them around the room. Yes... Life was perfect.

Two Years Later

The Australian sun shone down on you, as you watched your husband and brother running along the beach from afar, making the water splash around them. They were chasing two toddlers. A girl with Y/H/C hair, bundled up in two cute pigtails and clad in a purple swimsuit; and a boy, dressed in orange swim shorts with hair just like his father's - blonde and curly. Their giggling could be heard miles away, causing you to smile. It was such a sweet, wonderful thing to watch. Elsa had told you, you would find them here, so you quickly made your way to the beach, unable to wait any longer to see them again.

Taking off your shoes, you stepped through the warm sand, straight towards your family. Chris already waved at you from inside the water. "Sometimes, I think I have not just two kids, but three." You announced your presence with a giggle. Three heads snapped immediately into your direction. "Mama!" Frankie and Grace were quick to run towards you, as fast as their small legs could carry them. You squatted down, ready to catch them. "Mama!" They literally jumped into your arms, clinging to you. "Hiii, you two." You pressed a lingering kiss on both their heads, as you saw Tom making his way over to you as well, a broad smile on his face. You stood up again, engulfing Tom in a hug as well, while the twins still clung your legs. "Hi babe." You whispered, running your hands through his way longer hair. He had to let it grow a bit, for a play he was going to do. "Hello, darling." He leaned back to kiss you, placing his hands on your hips. "How was the last day of filming?" "Great. I had so much fun." "That's amazing. I'm so happy and proud, darling... Your very own surf movie..." "Insane, right?" Tom shook his head. "No. Well deserved."

Tagging: @crimson25 @kikster606 @huntress-artemiss @123forgottherest @lovingchoices14 @ozymdias @vbecker10 @coldnique @lokixryss @simplyholl @peaches1958 @lokidbadguy @jennyggggrrr @stephenstrangeaddictions @holymultiplefandomsbatman @mischief2sarawr @mypsychoticlove @mochie85 @muddyorbs @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @simping-for-marvel @lady-rose-moon @goblingirlsarah @kats72 @vickie5446 @buffyfan2833 @12-pm-510 @ladymischief11 @somewiseguy @woooonau @cabingrlandrandomcrap @alchemxx @honeyrydernot @evelyn-rathmore @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mossiswriting @evelyn-kingsley

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 23

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 3365

Warnings: Swearing, reference to sex

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Long Hot Summer American Country Love Song

****

Hangman

Sleep evaded the Texan all because of three little words spoken days earlier: "Fine. I'll come." Coming from anyone else, they would've meant nothing. This, however, came from Ghost. The girl who refused to speak to him, let alone be around him, ever since Ghoul's death. The girl who discarded him from her life like an undesired weed in a garden. He understood why, of course. Why would Ghost keep him around? The guy who killed her best friend and nearly killed her? She'd made it clear their first night at the Hard Deck that she still blamed him, specifically after her 'watery grave' comment. He'd given up hope that night that they could ever be more than 'old acquaintances.'

Therefore, when Ghost agreed to have him pick her up on Saturday morning for dogfight football, he'd been more than a little taken aback. Even if he'd used a cunning argument in an attempt to get her to agree, Hangman had not expected it to actually work. Ghost hadn't called or texted him to cancel the pickup and say she'd changed her mind, deciding to drive herself; she hadn't canceled the plan altogether, either. No. She had confirmed the pickup with Friday evening, to which he naturally responded yes.

By the time Hangman was meant to head over to Ghost's place, he'd been up for four hours already, spending most of that time working out to alleviate his nerves over being alone, truly alone, with Ghost for the first time since the accident.

"Come on, man," Hangman mumbled to himself, shouldering his duffel bag. "You've faced a fifth-gen fighter in a fourth-gen and won. You can handle a twenty-or-so-minute car ride to get coffee and to go to the beach."

He tossed his stuff into the back and slid into the driver's seat. Country music blaring, he cruised over to Ghost's apartment. He texted her: Here. Hangman exited the truck and waited impatiently at the passenger side door, keeping his hands tightly clasped in front of him to stop himself from mindlessly fiddling his thumbs. Ghost appeared a moment later, somehow holding her guitar case and tote bag in one hand, locking her door with the other, and having her phone sandwiched between her ear and shoulder, a smile lighting up her face. As she approached Hangman, he heard her say: "That sounds great! Listen, my ride is here, but call me later, and we can talk more about it... sounds good. Bye!"

"Hey, stranger," Hangman greeted happily, relieving Ghost of her baggage and opening the passenger door for her.

Ghost returned the sentiment with equal enthusiasm. "Morning!"

"You're in a good mood this morning," he said after putting her stuff in the back and sliding into the driver's seat. "What gives?"

"Do you remember Leo Wolfe?"

Hangman thought back to the chubby, baby-faced cadet he'd sat next to a decade ago. "Yeah, he's Wolfman's son, right?"

"Yeah. You only met him once at my high school graduation dinner, but we've stayed in touch. He's in San Diego for his friend's bachelor party and wanted to visit. I haven't seen him since a little after we graduated from the Navy, so it's been a long time coming."

"That'll be nice. Isn't he a pilot, too?"

"WSO. Followed in his dad's footsteps. Callsign Wolfie."

Hangman chuckled. "Fitting. So, let me guess-" he pulled into the Starbucks drive-thru- "venti iced chai and a ham and Swiss croissant?"

"Yeah, how do you remember that?" Ghost queried, tilting her head.

"You've ordered the same thing for as long as we've gotten Starbucks together. The only time you differ is when the weather turns cold, or Fall hits because then you order a hot chai latte or an iced pumpkin chai latte, respectively."

"Why try something new when my current drink orders are perfection?" Ghost scoffed in mock offense. Hangman shot her an impish grin in response, then leaned out the window and put in their order. As he pulled to the window, she asked, "How much do I owe you?"

"It's on me," he said nonchalantly. 

"Jake-"

"No protests. You can repay me by explaining why you're bringing your guitar to dogfight football. Pretty sure we can't throw it, nor do I think you want us to."

"Thank you. That's sweet of you." Ghost shoved her cash back into her wallet. "As for the guitar, Juliette said Penny was hosting an open mic night today, and I thought if I wasn't too sweaty and gross after football, I might do a set or two."

"If you want a partner-"

"You'll have to fight Rooster and Jules for those spots, but you're welcome to try."

"I'll take my bets with Rooster. I know better than to go against Princess."

"Don't we all. How did you two become so close? I know you two became friends during the training detachment, but she seems closer to you than the other Daggers."

Hangman shrugged, hoping to convey indifference despite having had deep feelings for Juliette at one point, feelings that still occasionally arose. "We had a very short, what did you use to call it... flirtationship?"

"You and Juliette were a thing?" Hangman could've sworn Ghost's voice went up an octave.

"Not unless you count a couple of spontaneous kisses a thing before Bradshaw reeled her back in. I don't know... we just kind of clicked. It probably helped that I saved Rooster's life." Hangman did not elaborate further, but the words he wanted to stay remained on the tip of his tongue: Juliette reminded me of you, and I fell for her because of that before I had the chance to stop myself. Unable to gauge how Ghost would react to such a statement, he decided silence as the best option. "What about you and Bradshaw?"

Ghost flushed. "Oh, well, uh, we were always friendly, but we both were going through some shit after we graduated Top Gun. We got drunk together, one thing led to another, and we- we might've hooked up..."

Hangman gasped over-dramatically, clutching his heart. "You didn't!"

"I wasn't friends with Juliette yet! I didn't even know they had dated!" Ghost protested, her cheeks flushing an even deeper maroon. 

Hangman laughed good-naturedly and patted her thigh. "Don't worry. I'm messing with you. I already knew about it."

"You- how?"

"Word spreads fast, and one of my associates saw you two leave the bar together and then also saw y'all leave Bradshaw's apartment the morning after."

Ghost narrowed her eyes, mulled over her thoughts briefly, then said, "It was Firefly, wasn't it?"

"It was Firefly. Gotta ask, though, does Princess know?"

"Oh, yeah. Jules could tell by the absolute evaporation of color in my face when she showed me a picture of Rooster that I knew him. It didn't help that I'd literally told her maybe five minutes beforehand how I'd had the best one-night stand of my life right after Top Gun. To say I was mortified barely covers it."

"You getting with Rooster isn't surprising. In fact, I'm shocked you two never dated. No, I'm more surprised that you had a one-night stand with him."

"He's the only one-night stand I've ever had, and I swear to God, if that leaves this truck-"

"I'll be the victim of friendly fire. Don't worry; your secret's safe with me," Hangman promised, handing Ghost her drink and food. Grabbing his, paying, and thanking the barista, he pulled back onto the main road and headed toward the Hard Deck. "Speaking of dating, outside of Kyle, have you dated anyone recently?"

"Not really. Dated one guy for a few months, but he got shipped to a different place, and we broke it off because of the long distance. Maybe if we'd had more time to spend with each other, it could've worked out. I met him because of Leo, actually. He asked me to keep an eye on his friend because he'd just lost his mom." Ghost leaned her head back against the seat and rolled it to look at Hangman. "What about you? Any girlfriends?"

"Nah. You know me. I don't have a habit of settling down. I did have a couple of potentials, but those crashed and burned."

"How come?"

"One loved another man, and the other girl hated me." Hangman purposefully left out the girls' names, considering they were, respectively, Juliette and Ghost. 

"Their loss," she said. Jake tried not to think about the irony of the statement coming from her. "What about Coyote? Has he dated anyone?"

Jake frowned. "I thought you two stayed in contact?"

"Not religiously. We'd wish each other happy birthday, happy holidays, and whatnot, but that was it."

"He's dated, but no one serious. Longest one lasted maybe three months."

Ghost nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing else, munching on her croissant. Hangman tried to formulate a new topic of conversation but failed miserably. For him, an awkward silence fell over them, but thankfully, it lasted only a short time because he pulled into the parking lot not long after. The pair hopped out and grabbed their belongings.

"Where is everyone?" Ghost asked, scanning the near-empty beach.

Hangman tossed a football in his hands. "I think we're a little early. Don't worry; they'll be here soon. Want to toss this around for a bit? Warm up?"

"Yeah, that sounds-" Ghost jumped at her cell blaring Lily Allen's 'Fuck You.' She scrambled to turn it down, but Hangman caught a glimpse of the name on the phone and felt his blood boil. Not even bothering to hide his annoyance, he growled, "Kyle's still calling you?" 

"Yeah," Ghost muttered, rolling her eyes and hitting decline. "Thought I had that turned down."

"If he calls again, please let me take care of it. All I need is thirty seconds. If that."

Ghost raised an eyebrow at him. "And what exactly are you going to say to him?"

"Let me answer that ringing phone and find out," Hangman insisted, nodding at the phone in her hand, which had started ringing again. Ghost hesitated, then handed the phone to him. Grinning, he happily took it and answered. "Hello?"

"You're not Annalise. Who the hell is this?" Kyle's irritated voice caused an unhealthy rage to surge into Hangman's blood. He sounded more irritated that Ghost hadn't answered rather than being concerned that some "random" guy had picked up her phone instead.

"You're right; this isn't, Annalise. She didn't pick up for a reason, and the hundreds of unanswered calls should give your tiny brain an insight as to why."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I will be your worst God damn nightmare if you continue harassing her." Hangman glanced at a guy shouting that the Hard Deck wasn't open yet. "Listen carefully because I'm only going to warn you once: they call me Hangman for a reason. If I see you call her one more time, or if Ghost tells me you've reached out to her again, I will rain down living hell on you."

Kyle scoffed. "Yeah? You and whose army?"

"How about the US Navy? Now, I may not have the power to set nine four-star admirals on your ass myself, but-" Hangman smirked at the sight of the blonde hopping out of the familiar blue Bronco that parked next to his truck- "I know the person who can, and they don't take kindly to people messing with their family."

"... Seresin, is that you?" The amused drawl in Kyle's voice caused Hangman's lip to lift in a snarl. "I'll be damned. I thought Annalise cut you out of her life after you killed her wingman."

"She did, and you know what? It speaks volumes that she'd rather hang out with me, the guy who killed her best friend, than answer one of your phone calls."

Ghost stiffened. "Jake-"

He ignored her and continued, "I will say this only once more: leave Annalise alone. Do not call her, do not text her, do not reach out to her. She does not want anything to do with you. Move on or find out what happens when you don't have my brother and father to back you up in a fight."

Hangman hung up before Kyle could utter a syllable in response. He turned to Ghost and said, "He shouldn't bother you again. If he does, let me know. I'll talk Princess into setting some admirals on him."

"I'm not worried about that. About Ghoul-"

"I said what I needed to get the point across to him." Hangman then pointed out that Rooster and Juliette had arrived, declared they should head over to greet them, and then clapped Ghost's shoulder as he left the conversation. He didn't want to talk about what he'd said with Ghost, not now nor ever. He already knew she blamed him for Ghoul's demise and required no reminder, let alone a conversation about it. Hangman didn't need to hear the blame straight from her lips.

Upon approach, Juliette chirped, "Hey! You're here early."

"Yeah, I thought the line would be longer at Starbucks, so Ghost and I got here pretty quickly." Noticing Rooster's brow shoot up, Hangman said, "Put that back down."

Rooster failed to oblige. "So, you two are hanging out?"

"She offered me an olive branch, and I took it." Hangman knelt to pet Raptor and Lightning. "Are the others on their way? I haven't checked my phone recently."

"Weren't you just talking on the phone?"

"He was on mine to my stalker of an ex-fling," Ghost replied, walking up to the group and kneeling next to Hangman to pet the German Shepherds, who had both rolled over onto their backs for belly rubs. 

"Kyle?" Juliette asked.

"Kyle," confirmed Hangman and Ghost simultaneously.

"Have I missed something?" Rooster queried.

Juliette patted his shoulder. "I'll catch you up later, honey. What-"

A buzzing phone caught everyone's attention. Judging by how Ghost flinched, Hangman guessed correctly that it was hers. He growled, "If that's Kyle, I swear to God-"

"Hey, Wolfie," Ghost said, placing a calming hand on Hangman's shoulder. His heart lurched at the voluntary, gentle contact.

"Wolfie?!" Jules exclaimed, perking up.

The muffled voice on the other end said, "Is that Juliette Kazansky?"

"Yep, that's her! We're waiting for the rest of the Daggers to get here for dogfight football."

"Dogfight football?"

"I'll explain it when we see each other. What's up?"

"I was standing next to this blue Bronco, looking out over the ocean, and I noticed the most beautiful girls petting some extremely happy German Shepherds." At his words, Ghost stood instantly, scanning the parking lot eagerly. She seemed to zero in on an unfamiliar figure beside Rooster's vehicle. Hangman stood with her just in time to hear Wolfie ask, "Should I go talk to them?"

Ghost beamed broadly. "There will be hell to pay if you don't."

Hangman watched a man jog over, and as he closed the gap between them, he recognized the 'unfamiliar' figure, and his heart inexplicably sank. A ripped man had replaced the former chubby cadet, albeit with some of his baby face left. He was a spitting, younger image of Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe.

"Wolfie!" Ghost gleefully exclaimed as he swept her up into an air hug. "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting to see you today."

"I swear this is just a coincidence. We're meeting here for our day of shenanigans. Considering we're inevitably going to end up drinking copious amounts of alcohol, we're all taking Ubers here." Wolfie turned to Juliette and glanced down at her bulging belly before leaning forward and gently hugging her. "I'd greet you more exuberantly, but I don't want to hurt you or the babies! It's good to see you, Kazansky!"

"You too, Wolfe." Pulling away, she said, "You remember Bradley, right?"

Wolfie snorted. "How could I forget Bradshaw? How you doing, man? Long time no see. What's it been? Ten years?"

"More, I think. And I'm doing good. Yourself?"

"Never better. Good to see you two back together." Then, turning to Hangman, he said, "You look familiar. Where do we know each other from?"

"This is Jake Seresin," Ghost introduced quickly. "Jake, this is Leo. You two met at my graduation party."

A flicker of recognition flashed in Wolfie's eyes. He extended his hand and replied, "Oh, yeah! Callsign Texas, right?"

"It's Hangman now," Jake corrected with a charming smile as he shook the man's hand. 

"Hangman?" Wolfie repeated. "Why Hangman?"

"Fly with me and find out."

Wolfie chuckled. "Not sure if I want to find out with that callsign. Well, listen, I won't keep you guys from whatever you're doing, but we need to catch up before I leave."

"I'm not sure what you and your friends have planned, but you're welcome to join us for football. The more people, the better. I'm sure Mav would love to see you, too!" Juliette said sincerely, leaning into Rooster. The color in her face had drained a little, making him wonder if she was getting nauseous or dizzy. Both were concerning to Hangman. Rooster subtly slipped an arm around her waist, his eyes flicking to her to gauge the situation. Whether he observed anything or not, his gaze reverted back to Leo.

"Let me check with the boys. There are six of us, myself included," Wolfie explained, taking out his phone and shooting a text off to a group chat labeled 'Bachelor Blowout.' "There's my pilot, Jackal. You don't know him, but we do have four other eighty-six legacy babies: Sunrise and Diva-"

"Who are they related to from the eighty-six flyboys?" Ghost queried.

"Sundown and Hollywood, respectively. And then, of course, y'all know Jack and Joey Kazansky."

Juliette stiffened. "Oh God. My brothers are with you?"

"Yeah, why?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ooooh, I'm going to get an earful from them about a few things, mainly how I kept some of my pregnancy complications from them."

Wolfie blinked. "Uh, excuse me, what pregnancy complications?"

"Just a few fainting spells and some high blood pressure, all of which I have under control now. I didn't want them to panic if they learned I had more than one blackout, but they did, and now they're pissed. Shit..." Juliette's eyes locked onto two buff, blond men approaching from the distance. "I'm going to take care of this early on. I'll be back."

Juliette hurried off. Rooster excused himself to join her, stating he should help, leaving Hangman alone with Ghost and Wolfie. He felt like the odd man out between them. Hell, between the current group at the beach, he was the only one that didn't have a relation to the infamous "Flyboys of '86." Even Ghost did, being the daughter of Charlotte Blackwood. Where was Coyote when he needed him?

"I'm going to call Jackal and see what he wants to do. I'll be right back!" Wolfie clapped Ghost gently on the shoulder and walked off, talking to his pilot. For better or worse, this left Hangman alone with Ghost.

"Well-" she began- "this morning has certainly turned interesting."

"I know. Feeling kind of like the odd man out with all you legacies," Hangman teased in an attempt to hide his insecurity about it. He moved to stand next to Ghost, watching Juliette and Rooster with the Kazansky boys and Wolfie chatting on the phone.

Ghost caught onto his hidden concern immediately, though. "Don't worry. I feel out of place with them, too. Rooster, Wolfie, and the Kazanskys all grew up together, even if they didn't live next door to each other. Mom never really stayed in touch with anyone except Wolfman, so I never met anyone but Wolfie. I met Sunrise and Diva a handful of times and heard about them through Wolfie, but never met Bradshaw and Jules until I joined the Navy. Funny, considering how close our parents all were at one point."

He turned his head to look down at her. "Guess it's you and me against the legacies today."

Ghost met his gaze, the corner of her lip tugging upward. "Forever?"

Hangman's heart soared. "And always."

****

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[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 42: Respects

I was crying. The face that Chris had made while I was being pulled away by Albert had broken my heart. I was told by my father to protect Chris, and while this would protect him for now, what are the long-term effects? It was moments like this when I wished I had a vice to cling to.

Albert drank and used to smoke when he was in the army. As soon as I found out, though, I helped him quit. Never did like the smell of tobacco burning. It reminded me of when my parents fought.

I shook my head while I was having a surgical shoe placed on my left foot. We were in the medical wing of Albert's Eastern European base. It was small and formerly a Veltro base. The doctor was nice but had a thick Russian accent.

"I am sorry, lady boss, but you have, without a doubt, fractured your fourth metatarsal on your left foot. Given your superior healing capability, I would say it still would take at least four weeks to heal." The doctor said as he closed the straps to the ugly shoe to my foot.

"And you are sure of this doctor? What about the children? Are they alright?" I asked a worried look on my face.

"You worry a bit too much about children. Your state is perfectly fine. As long as you don't take a fall down a forty-foot staircase, I am pretty sure you will be fine. Take a look at the latest ultrasound I just took." The doctor says, pulling up a picture on his monitor.

"What am I looking at, doc?" I asked, staring at the screen.

"Your virus is causing a special muscle around the children thicker than the average womb. It's like you are wearing a stabproof vest over a set of Kevlar clothing." He said, easing my worries.

"Thanks, doctor, but I should head to the airstrip now. I'm sure my husband is waiting." I said, standing up off the medical bed.

"Da, don't be a stranger. Do come to visit with younglings after they are born." The doctor said as I limped away.

As I was in the hallway, I saw Albert walking towards me. He zipped over to me and lifted me into his arms, bridal style as usual. I chuckled. I'm sure he loved holding me this way.

"I have fractured my foot, Wesk," I admitted shamefully only to have him kiss my forehead as we zipped through the base to the airfield.

"We are not made of diamonds and jade dearheart," Albert said, "we are still flesh and bone, as much as I hate to admit it."

I nuzzled into his chest as we arrived at the plane. The flight to Edonia would be short, but I knew I was going to sleep through it. What I knew was coming was something I had been waiting for a long time. A chance to meet my darling baby boy.

Reina Mueller was a dear friend of mine who helped me with hiding from Umbrella. Her dad had done it for years, so she picked up a few tricks. She was my midwife for my son's pregnancy. She taught me how to play a little bit of the piano, and I taught her how to cook some of my favorite meals. If it weren't for the fact I was with Albert and I loved him with all my heart, I would have stayed hidden.

"What are you thinking about my lotus?"  Albert asked as he stroked the small bump slowly growing beneath our hands.

"Of Reina Albert, she was a good friend. I'm sure Jake was raised well, and my contact has been training him to protect himself. I hope that my contact will recognize me. It has been a long time since I last saw him." I said, closing my eyes.

"I must admit I wish you had told me sooner about our children. I knew when you had disappeared, it was to hide from Spencer. I could have helped you, and we might have been able to see them." He said, stroking my hair.

"I know, the first time I was Sergei's thumb the entire time. He said he would keep the child safe, and little did I know that Spencer had recruited him a few years prior. When I managed to escape his grasp, I landed at a local orphanage. I hid the remaining two weeks of my pregnancy there. I met two wanna-be parents who were unable to conceive. The orphanage director said that I should give my baby to them instead of leaving it there. I agreed they took me to their small house in a tiny village in the Russian badlands. I didn't ask much about them. I knew the more I knew, the higher the chances Spencer would find Alistar. I left shortly after she was born. Gods, it took me so much not to get attached. It took me four days to recover and disappear. During those days, I fed her and helped change her." I heard Albert Shhh me as tears fell onto his lap.

"Breathe, my dear lotus, we will at least be meeting our son soon. Spencer and Sergei no longer stand in our way." Wesker said, stroking my hair.

He was right, and that thought made me smile. All we had to worry about currently was our vow renewal and meeting our son and Alex. However, she could wait. We've put off our happiness for so long. Things are finally coming to fruition.

I breathed slowly, my eyes still closed but a smile on my lips. I place a hand on my tummy, giving the little ones some attention. With a light snore, I faded into black.

When I awoke, I was in the back seat of a black Mercedes. Albert was at the wheel. I let out a soft moan and stretched my back. I noticed Albert looking at me through the rearview mirror.

"How long was I out for love?" I asked, sitting up.

"Four hours and thirty-seven minutes, to be exact. I changed you into funeral attire. We are going to be late, but we were never going to be part of the service, were we." Albert asked as I looked at the simple black dress that accented my belly.

"No, we were going to meet my contact after the wake," I said, pulling out my phone.

"We are here, dearheart. Let's wait in the tree line... there is no one here except a couple of gentlemen and a priest." He said, putting the car in park.

"And one of them is my contact." I sigh. How were we that late? Or did Reina keep hiding after I left?

"Should I step out?" Albert asked about to open his car door.

"No, I will. It's my contact who has been training our son for the past two years. I think you should follow me still, just in case." I said, stepping out of the car.

Albert followed me quickly out of the car and towards the few people in the cemetery. I stood just at the edge of the tree line. The priest was an elderly man and stood next to a tall brunette man who had a U.S.S. standard pistol on his hip. His hand was on a young man's shoulder. The kid looked like Albert just with bright red hair. It reminded me of my mother's hair.

"HEY!!! WHO'S OVER THERE!" The young man said.

I grimaced and walked forward with a limp, "I AM A FRIEND OF REINA MUELLER I WAS TOLD HER FUNERAL WAS TODAY!"

"YEAH, WELL, THIS IS A PRIVATE EVENT!! SO GET LOST!!" The kid yelled out.

"Let's just go dearheart, it's clear we are not wanted here," Albert said, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I placed my hand on his face and stroked his cheek, "Just wait one second."

"If you truly are a friend of Ms. Mueller, then tell me what time does the Phoenix rise?" HUNK said, staring deep into my eyes.

The code phrase we had set up years ago. So it was clear he did remember me. He started to walk towards me, pulling out his pistol. The father looked horrified.

"The Phoenix herself rises at seven hundred forty-eight hours and falls when the light burns out of her heart. Who greets and bids farewell to the Phoenix when she falls and returns?" I asked, walking forward with my hands up and motioning for Albert to stay back for the moment.

As I walked forward Agent HUNK spoke, "The Grim Reaper himself greets the Phoenix upon her death arms open, welcome to see his long-forgotten friend and they bid each other goodbye once the fire in her heart is reignited granting her life anew. What treasure did the Phoenix last give the Reaper when they parted?"

We stopped in front of each other, I beckoned Albert forward, and HUNK motioned for Jake to come to him.

"The Phoenix left her chick with The Reaper for she knew her path was perilous and The Reaper her teacher had never let her down," I said, smiling as the Reaper hugged me.

"It has been a long time since we last spoke face-to-face, Tabitha," HUNK said as Jake and Albert arrived.

"You know this lady teach?" Jake asked, carefully eyeing me up and down.

"Yes, I was the one who invited her. Remember how I told you I had a job regarding keeping you and your mother safe." HUNK said, releasing the hug and putting away his pistol.

"Yea and what does that have to do with two random ass people showing up to my mom's funeral," Jake asked looking at me and Albert with a glare, "Why did you invite them, teach?"

"I was the one who paid Mr. Death here to watch over you and Reina," I said pulling out my PDA and handing it to Jake with my financials on screen, "These are my financials following July of ninety-eight six years after you were born. I set up an account to send your mother around two thousand five hundred US dollars every month."

"She told me a long time ago that we had a benefactor from the US. Someone who she was close to for quite a long time. But that doesn't prove that she meant anything to you." Jake snapped, and I noticed Albert's hands tightened.

"My treasure, grab my purse from the car. I need my wallet." I turned towards Wesker, and he nodded, walking off.

"Of course, dearheart, but be careful." He said, walking over to the car.

"What calling off your guard dog? That seems like a dumb move, lady. Especially in these parts, the gangs would tear a rich lady like you up and spit you out in the gutter." Jake said a nasty smirk on his face.

"That's enough, Jake!" HUNK snapped, "Ms. Redfield was my best student when I was employed as a trainer by Umbrella. She probably could kick your ass well up and down this cemetery if she saw fit."

"At ease, Grim, it's not like I couldn't, but I won't. I would not do that to Reina's kid. Not to mention, I'm nine weeks along with triplets. At my age, I have to be extra careful, I already broke my foot in an attempt to escape a B.O.W. I'm not testing my luck anymore this week." I said, Jake, staring in disbelief.

"Damn teach! How old are you?" Jake asked, scrolling through the PDA, "Wait a minute, why are there pictures of me in the photo library? Just who are you?".

"Here you are, dearheart," Albert said, jogging up behind me at a normal human pace and handing me my purse.

"Thank you, love," I said, opening the purse and wallet.

"I asked, who the hell are you?" Jake said, almost getting in my face.

I pulled out my favorite picture, one I knew there were only two copies of. It was of me, Jake, and Reina in the delivery room just after his birth. I placed it in front of his face and softened my voice.

"My name is Tabitha Elise Redfield. This is my husband Albert. Our actual last name is of no consequence. However, this photo is. This photo was taken on June twenty-first nineteen ninety-two. I had just given birth to a male with red hair and beautiful blue eyes. My best friend, who I came to Edonia to find, was beside me in this photo. I was just handed my baby when the doctors took this picture." I said, holding back tears.

"That's the picture Ma had on her nightstand. She always told me that this was her luckiest day. That she would one day tell me about the lady in this picture. When she was on her deathbed, she asked me to bring this picture to her. Said that it was time I knew the truth. I was gone not even thirty minutes. By the time I got back, she was crashing. They wouldn’t let me be by her side." Jake started crying, taking the photo from my hands.

"It's alright, kido. Let it out. You can trust her. It's him I am weary of." HUNK said, pointing at Wesk.

"It has been a long time, hasn't it, Mr. Death? I assure you I'm only here to support my Tabitha." Albert said, holding my stomach, "as well as keeping her and our little ones safe."

"I am sorry to pry, but can we return to Ms. Mueller's funeral? I'm sure you lovely folk can talk after I finish her burial rights." The priest said, walking up behind Jake and HUNK.

"Oh, sorry, Father, I didn't mean to intrude." I quickly apologized as did Albert.

"Then let's head back to the grave site. As long as Mr. Mueller allows it to stay." The father said, walking back.

"Yeah, they can come, but if I find out you're lying to me about who you are, I will not be friendly," Jake said, walking back.

I followed them, but Wesk went back to the car. I could tell Jake was getting under his skin. They were very much alike, temperament-wise, at least. It made me chuckle.

I wasn't going to demand Jake to come live with me and Albert. That wouldn't be right. Reina raised him. I knew I had no claims to call him son. I was just an egg donor. The same could be said about Albert being the sperm donor.

I thought back to my two childhood friends. Jake, who had died of gang violence in Raccoon City when I was fourteen. Reina, who was now beneath my feet from lymphoma. I had a perfectly resin-encased Ice Follies Daffodil in my purse, the same type we had buried with our friend back in seventy-five.

When the priest stopped his prayers, he asked if I had anything to say. I thought for a moment and nodded. HUNK placed his hand on my shoulder. I looked at him and looked at the freshly dug grave.

"Reina, I'm sorry. I honestly don't have much to say. I was a failure of a friend to you. After you moved out of Raccoon to Edonia. It was only by chance I found you again. I stayed with you in hiding for roughly seven months. Those were some of my favorite days. When your son was born, it was the happiest I've ever seen you. You had always wanted to be a mom since we were kids. I knew I had made the right choice when I saw how you held him." I said to the casket.

Jake stared my way with a confused look on his face. He stared at me and then at the picture, then back at me. I saw the gears in his head slowly starting to click into place.

I sighed and lightly kicked my bad foot, "That day while one of my saddest was also one of my happiest. I was able to make my best friend's dream a reality. When we looked at each other and laughed, we both knew then, didn't we? What do you have to name him? Did we not? A name that shared equal meaning to us, Jacob. The name of our friend who brought us all together and held us together like fucking glue. We both know he was in the delivery room that night, keeping an eye on our dumbasses. Reina, just as you promised me that day. I promise the same to you now here and on your grave. I will watch over your son and make sure to do my best to guide him like you did for me. I have something for you, ya know. A daffodil preserved in resin. It's just like the fresh ones we gave Jacob when he passed. You both loved the daffodilys that grew at school."

I pulled out the flower and placed it on the casket. Jake went wide-eyed but smiled and opened the top of the bare casket. I smiled and took one last look at Reina. She looked tired but at peace. A small smile on her lips. Her flowing ginger locks were brushed back and washed. I place the bloom in her cold, fragile hands. Jake closed the casket and I knew the last little bit I had to say.

"Reina, I promise I'll keep him on a path you would be proud of. He is the most sacred bond we have. May you find your way to your eternal spring filled with dillys, and shadows guide you, goodbye." I slightly bow.

HUNK nodded and I saw Jake with tears in his eyes. He was trying to hide it with his arm but it was obvious. When she was lowered into the grave I let my emotions show and cried. The last bit of my contacts dissolved as I wept my tears. I reached into my purse as the rain started to fall. Placing on my new corrective shades I look up to the sky.

"Heaven weeps as a new angel crosses through those golden gates." The Father said pulling out a rickety old umbrella.

Wesker walked up behind me holding a sturdy black umbrella as it began to pour, "Lotus, come wait in the car. We don't want to risk you catching a cold with the little ones still growing. I'll help bury her. That way I can at least pay my respects to Ms. Reina."

"There is no need for that. You four go to Mr. Mueller's home and have a meal. Reina was a member of my flock. I shall see that her grave is fully tended to before the rain stops." The father said reluctantly smiling.

"You both follow me and teach. We will take you guys back to mine and my mother's place, however, once we are there we need to have something settled." Jake said handing me back my picture.

"Are you sure you want to go down this path kid? Where we three are from there is no turning back." HUNK said staring at Jake.

"I sure teach and I think Mom didn't want me to hate my biological mother and father. At least that is the vibe I'm reading. Isn't that right mother, father?" Jake said scratching the back of his neck.

"It would be better if we discussed this at a secure place, but yes you are right. In both senses." I said.

"Then let us take my Mercedes. That way we can avoid this rain." Albert said pulling out his keys.

"Mercedes? Are you guys loaded?" Jake asked a bit annoyed.

"Off the records Yes but it's hard to be rich legally when technically we both have died," I said laughing as we started walking towards the car.

HUNK and Albert laughed while Jake looked confused.

"What does that mean?" He asked trying to catch up.

This was going to be a hard discussion.

Hey everyone slifarianhawk here and welcome to 2024. Yep already off to a good start. A chapter on the second day of the year. That's a first for me. Well, I hope everyone enjoyed their New Years. The next chapter will be a good one. My name is Slifarianhawk and I'm not so far away.

[mama-ivy]

Find the Word Tag

My tag was from @autumnalwalker and the words I was given are: Silence, Still, Surprise, and Sacrifice.

This was a bit difficult for me. It's been a minute since I've written anything of substance (life is a bitch), but I did find all the words and I did have fun searching all my WIPs.

Still – From The Cardinal

That is how Grandmother found them – Avien and his companion.  She carefully gathered up the small boy and carried him home.  Avien’s bird followed, always remaining within ten feet of his great warrior.  Even after Grandmother laid Avien in the garden, the bird remained and continued to sing.  Grandmother traded one of her best goats to the carpenter for the most elaborate wooden house for the sweet-sounding bird and placed it above Avien’s grave to serve as his memorial.  Still to this day, The Cardinal lives in Avien’s little house and sings every morning while Grandmother prays to her brave warrior.

Surprise – From unnamed novel

The women entered the home in a whirlwind all speaking at once.  “Why do you suppose the young queen needs so many ladies-in-waiting?”  “Where do you think they all came from?”  “How old do you think they are?  Isn’t Queen Catherine a girl of only fifteen herself?”  “I heard from the dressmaker that the girls were childhood friends of the queen.”  “It doesn’t really matter.”  That last statement was from Jean.  All four women spun around on their heels in surprise.  None of them had thought to check to see if Jean had arrived home from work.

Silence – From Arranged

He was silent for a moment trying to let the news sink in. He always knew that this day would be coming. He was figuring on at least ten more years, though. He wasn’t even thirty yet. How was he expected to run an already thriving law firm? Did he even want to run the firm? His dad seemed uncomfortable with the silence.

“I wouldn’t be throwing you to the wolves. JB said he’d be with you every step of the way and I’d still be a silent partner and acting consultant. I know you can do this, son.”

Sacrifice – From La Fine Dell’Amore

“What I give to you will be greater than my life or yours. My sacrifice is nothing compared to a new life.” He carefully wiped her tears with the pad of his thumb. “If I can give you nothing else than this, my life has served its purpose. I want you to do this.”

The words I pass on are: Uncomfortable, Follow, Creature, and Surface

No obligation tags are as follows:

@pinkchaosstories @boxofbonesfic @ink-fireplace-coffee @memento-morri-writes

[sparatus]

HHHH wip tag game and you know I gotta say Through The Bars bc of course

wip game

yessss YESSSSS

through the bars is the planned sequel to to catch a rabbit, aka kryterius murder mystery. at the end of rabbit, saren and nihlus agree to take a real vacation somewhere nice and warm, and settle on an outing to temperate macedyn so they can go hiking in scenic deciduous forest and enjoy not being surrounded by people. they also invite avitus and macen, just for fun, so they can all have a good time together like friends should.

and then they find a dead human dumped in the woods. a human murder victim on a turian planet obviously has the potential to cause a lot of problems real fucking fast, so goddammit, here they go again.

in keeping with rabbit's title coming from an agatha christie quote, so does bars! from murder on the orient express: "The body – the cage – is everything of the most respectable – but through the bars, the wild animal looks out."

if rabbit is me thumbing my nose at bad and yikes trends in kryterius fic, bars is the same thing for turian fandom as a whole, because without giving too much away it deals a lot with how the human victim was conducting themselves while living on a turian world and how the turians around them responded.

have a snippet, just for fun:

They probably looked quite the sight, Macen assumed, sitting outside the office door like misbehaving schoolkids waiting for their moms. Three Spectres and a Blackwatch officer walk into a police station. Nihlus took up half the bench himself, and had decided he may as well rest his eyes while they waited. Saren hadn't even bothered to put his boots on, just calmly taking swigs of horosk while all the little cuts and scrapes on the pads of his feet left whorls of blue on the floor. Avitus was the only one who looked appropriately antsy, but given the look Chief Barician had given him in particular, he was pretty sure that was more based on some old slight he'd forgotten about until just now. Never a dull moment with this crowd, really.

The door opened with a chime, and the chief stuck his head out. "Primarch Varcius and Councilor Sparatus are on the line," he grunted. "Don't know how it got handed that far up, but they wanna talk to you lot."

The four of them glanced at each other, then Saren clicked his mandibles and pushed himself to his feet. "Legally, you can't breathe on us. That's how."

He slipped under Barician's arm while he sputtered. The rest of them following suit ended it.

Once they'd all shuffled in, Saren was the first to speak. "Ierian, honestly, we had nothing to do with–"

"Can I not have one month of peace?" the councilor's tired sigh interrupted him. There were no visuals, only a voice on a speaker, but the most important drake in xenopolitics was hard to mistake. "Can I not just ship you feral zoäni off to somewhere remote and enjoy my lunch without worrying about what insane discovery you're about to message me about? For one month?" He paused, then amended, "Not you, Captain Barro, you're doing fine."

Macen's mandibles fluttered. "Thank you, sir."

Avitus snorted. "Hey, we've found way worse than a stiff in the woods."

"A human body," a new, feminine voice interrupted. Macedyn's new primarch, Laeana Varcius, was a former lawyer by trade, and you could certainly hear the court in her tone. "In turian woods. Everyone is still on edge after the summit, this is an interspecies incident waiting to happen."

"Unless, of course," Sparatus sighed, "Spectres investigate, because then news doesn't come out until you're done and we can control the narrative."

Saren scoffed and took a drink of horosk. Must have been nice to have that kind of metabolism. "The Spectres don't want to investigate."

"I'm quite literally paying the Spectres' rent, so the Spectres will investigate."

[path-to-the-dead-end]

December 30, 2015

Cassie stood tightly gripping her necklace. The key dug into the skin of her palm as she waited for Akihiko to show up. She looked around the empty sidewalk, hoping to see any sign he was here; a sigh escaped her lips and she rested more against the wall.

Perhaps she was right to feel the way she did. Akihiko would be leaving the country along with the four years of their relationship going with him. It hurt to know he’d be leaving her side, but… she was happy for him. Happy he’d be getting to spend time with his parents that he missed out his whole life, but the feeling was bittersweet and she didn’t exactly know how to respond.

She wanted to tell him not to leave. She wanted to stay by his side thinking that she couldn’t handle even a day away from him. Their life had become so regular that the change was jarring and something Cassie didn’t know if she could handle.

Despite that, there wasn’t a single bone in her body that would actually voice this to him. She couldn’t force Akihiko to stay with her and she didn’t want to be the reason he didn’t go and do what he wanted.

Once more, she gripped her key necklace.

“Cassie!” She looked up and saw Akihiko running for her. She pushed out a smile and he got to her. “Sorry, I’m here late, I was trying to get out as soon as I could, but…”

“Yeah.” Cassie interrupted. “It’s fine, it always happens like that.”

Akihiko caught his breath and took her head, moving them over to a bench to sit at. The entire sidewalk was empty, save for them—the silence was deafening.

“I’m here now and that’s all that matters.”

Cassie smiled. “Yeah, it does.”

Akihiko smiled down at her and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I guess though it won’t be for long huh?” Cassie soberly nodded and said nothing else. “Hey, but don’t look so sad. We’ll talk every day and I’ll text you if I can’t for some reason. Then when everything’s over, we’ll be back together.”

As much as Cassie wanted to believe that, she couldn’t. Not because Akihiko didn’t love her, but because of how Akihiko was. He was a kind individual who gave everything his all and then would give another hundred percent to the one he was helping. There was no shortage of passion in his heart for all people and if he was given the chance to help people forever or stay with her… well, Cassie feared the worst.

She looked into his eyes. “Aki… what are you and your parents going to be doing once you’re together again?”

“Well, they said we’re first gonna just travel together, see my family for one thing. After that, they said they wanted to take me to the places they’ve been to, all the archeology spots I mean.”

Cassie smiled softly. “What about school though? I know it’s gonna be a long time before you guys are back, so what’ll you do in the meantime?”

Akihiko put their hands together. “Not only are my parents some teachers as well, they said they didn’t mind putting me in homeschooling for my last year. I’ll still get to graduate and who knows, maybe I’ll come back here for college.”

Cassie felt her free hand tighten, as to not alarm Akihiko she just listened intently with a proud smile on her face. Deep within her heart, however, her world crashed at the sentiment of Akihiko’s excitement. It was obvious no doubt lay in his heart. Perhaps she was too pessimistic, but the sound of his joy caused her grief. She wanted Akihiko to miss her so say he didn’t want to go but that he’d make it as quick as possible so they could be together again. Her life was plummeting, but it sounded like Akihiko’s was looking up; no matter how much it hurt her, she wanted nothing but the best for him.

“I’m so happy for you, Aki.”

He chuckled. “But I’m really gonna miss you.” He took her other hand now. “That’s why I was trying to get out here as soon as I could!”

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Cassie said.

Akihiko let out a relieved sigh. “As much as I’ll worry about you, you’re friends with Jess now and I know Ren will always have your back. Mari too, since they’re finally official, I know neither of them would let anything happen to you and they’ll keep you company when I can’t.”

Cassie nodded. “I know they will… Ren even told me he plans on taking us all out before you leave. He wants to have a final hang out with all of us.”

“Wish he would have told me sooner, I would have helped if I could.”

Cassie giggled. “I don’t think the point is for you to help, Aki.”

He chuckled. “Sorry, force of habit.” His shoulder relaxed. “But anyways, let’s not talk about leaving. Let’s talk about our last few days together.” Akihiko got up, dragging her along with him. “We can do whatever you want and I’ll probably end up staying over at your place. Making sure every second is spent with you before I leave.”

Cassie followed behind him without saying much. She was a little glad Akihiko was always pulling her behind him because she didn’t have to keep up the smile she had no strength to maintain. Though, she knew she should at least be happy while they’re still together, for his sake and hers—to distract herself from the thoughts she had.

“Hey, Aki?” He stopped and looked back at her. “Do you mind if I open your lock real quick?”

He smiled. His hand went up to the lock necklace that hung around his neck and he removed it, holding it out to her.

“Thanks…” Cassie then took her key necklace and tried to stick it into the lock.

For a second, she worried it wouldn’t open as the key wouldn’t even go inside of the lock, but she managed to jam it inside and she unlocked the lock, only to see their initials etched into the back. On the other side, there were the words ‘Only One Key to My Heart’ inscribed on the other side. The moment Akihiko got the lock made and gave her the key to it was a moment she would never forget.

Even if she couldn’t forget it, she would never get the feeling back again.

Cassie looked back up to Akihiko after a second and found him smiling down at her fondly. It pained her to even suggest the idea of him taking the key back, but she didn’t want to keep it either knowing eventually it would only be a painful reminder of a future she could never have with him.

“I just wanted to see it again, who knows when the next time will be and I’ll get to see it.”

“Yeah, me either, because there's only one key and it’ll be with you.” Akihiko’s smile finally faded and he retrieved the lock back. He rested his hands on her shoulder and leaned down to see her face better. “I’ll really miss you Cassie.”

A bitter smile made its way to her face and she resisted crying. “I’ll really miss you too…” Her hand went to his face. “Can I kiss you?”

Softly, he nodded and spoke with a quiet voice. “Of course, who knows when we’ll get to do this again.”