#they lived in California it makes sense i swear

[kiwisandcoconuts]

They never told Jake

[ghoulsbounty]

From a Previous Life

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bound and fearful, you seek answers from a mysterious stranger about the fate of those you love.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of death, pregnancy, non-detailed talk about experimentations, angst, grief, swearing, judgement, flirting (if you squint)

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: My first Cooper fic! I've had this idea going around my head for a hot while and I really could go on, and on with more (yearning, smut, etc) but I just wanted to get out an initial one-shot that could potentially turn into more if any one likes it (or I end up adding to it anyway!) I'd love to hear your thoughts 💌

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Silently, you moved through the desolate wastelands, each step stirring clouds of dust and veiling the once lively towns now reduced to rubble. Somewhere in California, though the exact whereabouts blurred, you were leagues away from the sanctuary you once called home, apparently almost two centuries ago. Time, to you, was an elusive concept, for the stiffness in your joints and the lingering ache betrayed the recent thaw from cryo-sleep. Your mind remained ensnared by fog, a residue of the drugs coursing through your veins during preservation.

Yet, your senses, dulled by centuries of slumber, detected his presence long before he materialized. Heavy footfalls pierced the barren silence, prompting a cautious glance over your shoulder. There he stood, solitary amidst the wasteland, a gun slung lazily across his back and a weathered ten-gallon hat shadowing his features. Perhaps he had spotted you, perhaps not; regardless, neither of you quickened your pace, silently agreeing to maintain a wary distance.

Ever cautious, you abruptly veered into the next structurally sound building, bracing for a potential standoff. Praying it wouldn't come to that, for the meagre supply of bullets salvaged from a fallen vault security guard, coupled with his erratic pistol, offered scant reassurance. The art of marksmanship was foreign to you, a skill unbefitting a woman of virtue in the world before its descent into chaos. Your pride lay in nurturing the home, not in extinguishing life.

"What would your husband make of this sight?" you thought. Clad in the worn remnants of the blue and yellow jumpsuit issued upon vault entry, now stained with blood and grime from your desperate flight. Would he mock your dishevelled appearance, your unadorned face and frayed nerves? Would he marvel at the pistol clenched tightly in your grasp, its weight unfamiliar and your trembling fingers poised on the trigger? Could he shoulder this burden, like you wish he was here to do so? Such musings left you unsettled, your husband's whereabouts a lingering question mark, conspicuously absent from your side.

Peering cautiously from beneath the window sill, your gaze swept the scorched landscape beyond. The lone figure should have drawn near by now, should have approached the building where you lay in wait, yet his silhouette remained absent from the horizon. Instead, the frigid touch of a gun barrel against the back of your skull sent a shiver down your spine, your body tensing instinctively under the ominous threat. You suppressed the cry that clawed at your parched throat, swallowing hard as you slowly lowered your pistol to the ground beside you.

"That's it, nice and slow," he instructed, his voice gruff with a hint of amusement. "You might be my easiest catch yet."

Realization dawned upon you—he had been tracking you. You inwardly chided yourself for your naivety before complying, raising your arms slowly with palms outstretched. Encountering no one in these barren lands, you were uncertain of the customs among people so removed from your time. You were one of them now, but survival demanded adaptation.

"Please, I don't have any money," you offered, hearing his scoff. "I mean it. Take my gun, you can have it."

His movement rustled the air, his presence brushing against you as he leaned to retrieve your pistol. A low hum of amusement escaped him, and you felt the cold barrel of his gun pressing against your skull before it vanished altogether.

"I don't want your hunk of junk, sweetheart," he drawled, tossing it back to the ground beside you. "Doubt it can punch through a tin can. No, what I seek is your cooperation."

"O-okay, yes," you agreed, the words tumbling from your lips almost too hastily, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

A nudge at the side of your heel prompted you to turn and face him. You complied, shifting on your knees, arms growing weary as they remained raised above your head while you awkwardly pivoted to meet his gaze.

The scream tore from your throat as you beheld him, sending shivers down your spine. He loomed above you, his visage warped by decomposing, discoloured flesh that swathes his form. Cracked lips parted to reveal yellowed teeth in a perpetual grimace, his once vibrant eyes now a haunting shade of blue-green, still clinging to a trace of humanity amidst the decay. You recoiled at the absence of his nose, now a dark cavity amidst cartilage and bone.

"That's not polite," he admonished, his narrowed eyes betraying annoyance. Trembling under his scrutinizing gaze, you stammered out an apology, extending a trembling hand to ward him off as he took a step forward.

"Please, leave me alone. I-I don't have anything," you pleaded, but he showed no sign of relenting. Your fingers curled around the pistol on the ground, raising it shakily in his direction.

"Well now, what are you going to do with that?" His smirk deepened as you aimed the weapon at him.

His amusement infuriated and terrified you in equal measure. You were aware of your body shaking, aware that he saw it too. You hadn't formulated a plan, hadn't considered the consequences. But you'd never faced a situation like this, especially not with someone so grotesque yet strangely human. He spoke like a man but resembled a monster, reminiscent of the creatures from the old sci-fi holo tapes your husband used to rent on Friday nights, leaving you cowering behind embroidered cushions until the credits rolled. You weren't built for this, but just like only hours before, you must fight.

With a tight grip and clenched eyes, you pulled the trigger. The recoil sent you crashing against the wall, the impact jarring your head as the bullet ricocheted through the room, narrowly missing the man and striking a nearby doorway with a sharp ping.

"Well, that was disappointing," he remarked, his head cocked and lips drawn into a condescending smirk. "You finished, sweetheart?"

With a mixture of annoyance at your failure and frustration at his dismissive demeanour, you tossed the pistol at his feet. Your head throbbed, and as you tentatively touched the back of your skull with trembling fingers, you were unsurprised to find them stained with blood.

"Are you going to kill me?" you panted, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

He shook his head, kicking at the dirt with his pointed boot before crouching in front of you. "Not much use to me dead, not much use to me at all if you don't cooperate," he emphasized, his tone dripping with implication.

"Fine," you huffed. "What do you want?"

A triumphant hum escaped him as he straightened up, retrieving a long rope from his hip and tossing it into your lap. "Tie your hands together," he commanded.

You hesitated, eyeing the rope and then him with uncertainty. His tone shifted, imbued with a hint of authority as he spoke again. "The rope goes around your wrists or around your neck. Either way, you don't want me to be the one to do it."

With deft fingers, you hastily wound the rope around your wrists, striving to fashion a knot that would hold without chafing your skin too severely. He bent down, giving the tether a firm tug to test its security before nodding in approval. Seizing the other end lying in the dirt, he yanked it harshly, nearly causing you to stumble forward onto the unforgiving ground.

"Get up," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

You complied, awkwardly pushing yourself to your feet without the use of your bound hands. There was a pregnant pause as you gazed at him expectantly, awaiting further instruction. However, he simply tugged on the rope, turning to lead you out of the dilapidated building and back into the sprawling wasteland.

You followed him into the desert expanse, both of you shrouded in silence save for your intermittent attempts to coax answers from him. Questions about where he was taking you, what he planned to do with you, hung in the air, but he offered no response. Instead, he whistled a tune, leaving your inquiries to dissipate into the wind.

As frustration reached its boiling point, you dug your heels into the sand, exerting force against your restraints as the rope cut into your skin. A hidden thrill coursed through you as you witnessed his hulking frame falter against the resistance, a fleeting moment of satisfaction before he regained his footing. His narrowed gaze met yours from beneath the shadow of his hat.

"I'm cooperating," you asserted, your voice strained. "You can—should at least tell me where we are going. Why you're doing this to me."

A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping as he gazed skyward before meeting your eyes once more. "You're sure dumb for a pretty thing," he muttered, retrieving a flask from the recesses of his torn duster and taking a long swig. "I guess that's how they like to keep you down there."

As he turned to face you fully, his eyes rolled at your bewilderment before he elaborated. "Not much up here untouched nowadays, so when you see a little rabbit wandering the lands fresh from her cage, a smart man doesn't think twice before he acts."

Anger surged through you at his mocking words. Barely escaping your 'cage' with your life, barely comprehending the aftermath of the bombs, and now captive again—this time by a man, no, a monster, likely more sinister than those who had ensnared you initially.

"You already said you're not going to kill me, so you're going to fuck me or sell me," you asserted, mustering more confidence than you truly felt, chin lifted defiantly as he scrutinized you, tucking his flask away.

"Now you're catching on," he replied cryptically, offering no further explanation as he tugged at the rope and resumed walking. Your mind whirled with apprehension at his ominous response. Which fate awaited you? Both? The thought churned your stomach, imagining the touch of his weathered, calloused hands, pondering the atrocities he may have committed before and the ones he might be willing to commit now. You resolved not to make it easy for him, determined to fight tooth and nail if necessary.

"I can hear you thinking from over here, vaultie," he called back. "I ain't gonna fuck you," he added with a smirk, glancing briefly over his shoulder at you before continuing. "Ain't my type."

You scoffed, your brows furrowed in disbelief at his audacity. Doubt crept in, questioning if someone like him truly had preferences, more inclined to prey on anything within reach rather than adhere to any type. He resembled a monster more than a man, and you suspected his instincts remained consistent regardless of his words. Out here, where the population had dwindled to ashen, skeletal remnants of unfortunate souls caught in the blast, it seemed unlikely anyone could afford to be picky.

"What happened to you?" you demanded, your voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

He visibly stiffened at your question, briefly halting his movements before resuming with a dismissive gesture. He heard you, yet chose not to respond.

"I said, what happened to—"

"I heard you," he snapped, cutting you off. "Doesn't mean I owe you an answer."

You huffed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I'm just trying to understand what's going on! Yesterday, I was in my kitchen baking a key lime pie and dancing to the radio, and then—"

"Miss your cage, vaultie?" he interjected, a cruel chuckle escaping his lips. "If you miss it so much, why are you out here?"

Straining against your restraints, you heard him sigh in annoyance as he came to a halt. Turning to face you, irritation etched on his ghoulish features, he regarded you with a jutted hip and clenched gloved fingers tightening around the rope. "I'm not talking about the vault," you said earnestly. "I was in my home yesterday, just a normal day. Then the sirens blared, so loud I couldn't think. My neighbour, she came to my door, told me we had to leave, find safety. I didn't want to go without Glenn, but everyone was running, scared. I was too."

"When we reached the vault, it was chaos," you continued, his attention now fully captured, eyes glazed. "So many people, struggling to get in. But we made it, and... my neighbour, Patti—she's my friend. She had just given birth to her first child, a beautiful baby boy." You swallowed hard, suppressing the bile that threatened to rise in your throat. "They were supposed to let us in, we were pre-selected. But when we arrived, they turned Patti away. Shot her husband when he fought back," you recounted, the horror of the memory still fresh. "Then chaos erupted. The first nuke fell, and I was pushed through to the vault door. I lost Patti."

He regarded you with a sombre understanding, silently urging you to continue.

"When I entered, it wasn't like the commercials," you spat bitterly, recalling the false promises of safety. He cleared his throat. "That actor, going on about how great the vaults were—'a vast and wonderful place,'" you mocked with disdain. "Mine wasn't like that. It was... They did unspeakable things to us, to unborn children, and there was no recourse. It wasn't right. I knew what they wanted, deep down, but my head told me not to be so naïve. Vault-Tec was supposed to be saving us."

Tears welled in your eyes as the memories flooded back, as vivid as if they had happened yesterday, because to you they did. "They threw us into pods, froze us until they needed us. Took us out for testing and... I was the last one. Everyone else had... died, from the testing," you choked out, the pain of loss still raw. "I fought to survive, because I couldn't let what happened to those women and their babies happen to me or mine."

He listened intently, his eyes widening as he took in your story. His gaze flicked to the small swell of your stomach below your tied wrists, realization dawning.

"So I need to know," you implored, your voice trembling with fear. "Is what happened to you also what happened to Patti and her baby? Will it happen to mine?"

He studied you, and you felt yourself shrink under his penetrating gaze. You hadn't intended to divulge so much, to reveal your condition that you had desperately tried to conceal until it could no longer be hidden, to relive the trauma that still haunted you, though in reality centuries had passed since its occurrence. Yet, you needed answers. You needed to know what lay ahead in this desolate wasteland, and if you possessed the strength to face it.

"Yes," he answered quietly, his voice laden with a heavy solemnity. "It will, in time."

Fresh tears traced their path down your cheeks, and you nodded in understanding, raising your bound hands to wipe at your wet nose. "Okay," you whispered, then smiled sadly in resignation as you rubbed your wrists gently over your stomach. "At least up here, we had a little freedom for a time."

You felt the rope that he had been keeping such a tight hold on slacken before being dropped to the ground. Stepping towards you, he gingerly took your wrists and began working on the knot, untying it with ease before meeting your gaze from beneath his lashes. "You just gained a little more."

"You're letting me go?" you asked, doubtful.

"I'm letting you choose," he corrected, his voice carrying a peculiar weight as he rubbed the tender, burned skin of your wrist where the rope had left its mark. His thick thumb felt rough against your flesh as it traced over you in a gentle, swiping motion. "There are things worse than me out here, sweetheart. Are you going to take your chances?"

His words hung heavy in the air, and you met his gaze defiantly. "I don't need your pity."

"Good, because I ain't giving you none," he replied, his tone firm.

You held his gaze, neither of you willing to be the first to look away. Moments ago, he had been intent on taking you to an undisclosed location to sell you for whatever passed as currency in this wasteland, but now he presented you with a choice—a grim ultimatum. Stay with him or fend for yourself in the harsh wastelands. Neither option was ideal, but you hadn't lasted a single day on your own before being apprehended by him. Perhaps it was better to stick with the devil you knew, especially if there truly were worse threats out there as he claimed.

"I'm going to get bigger, you know. I'll slow you down," you warned him. "And I can't fight."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he gathered the discarded rope and secured it at his hip. "I've seen you shoot, but I've yet to see you fight. I think a few vault security guards could probably vouch for you, though," he teased, a hint of admiration in his voice. "You can't stay with me forever, nor would you want to. I'll take you to a safe haven for women in your condition. It's a few months' journey north from here. Until then, try to keep up."

You pondered his words, feeling a sense of relief at the prospect of a safe haven and the promise of being escorted there, despite the long journey. "Why the change of heart? What's in this for you?" you asked, curious about his sudden shift in demeanour.

His expression tightened, his gaze drifting to the small swell of your stomach that you now cradled protectively. "Righting some wrongs from a previous life," he answered solemnly, not waiting for your response before turning and beginning to walk away. He paused momentarily, waiting for you to follow.

"I don't know your name. What do I call you?" you called out after him.

He pondered for a moment, gazing out into the vast desert before turning back to you, tipping his hat in acknowledgment.

"Ghoul, for now."

[passivenovember]

Being a dad is something he's always wanted. Call it a cliche, right, the all-American, golden boy who's caught up in the idea of four to six snot-nosed brats looking up to him as they try to make sense of all the big and small things because they have no other choice. You only get one dad, right?

He images them, crawling and then walking and then sprinting through the same ancient, brand-new stages of life. Six months, learning the kitchen-magic of how their fingers and toes bend on command. A year, stumbling Jello-legged down a hallway. Fifteen, slamming their bedroom door only to rush, crying, into Steve's arms when he works up the courage to rap his knuckles on the wood like the dad from Full House.

Maybe. It's all Steve's ever wanted. More than that signed Nicks basketball his own dad sent for him when he was twelve. More than Nancy Wheeler. More than his need for mountains, and oceans, and something else.

But then he meets Billy, and it's like all that other shit goes away for a while. None of it disappears, really, but he's got something to focus on, now. Something to work toward, with someone, and that makes it worse, in a way.

Billy finally lets him fuck, and Steve lays in bed that night with an irritatingly awful douchebag drooling a spot onto his chest, and Steve thinks. Knows--

Look, he won't admit it on the first fuck, but this is it for him. He wants to buy this dude house, and he wants wedding rings around the fat and bone of both their fingers, and. He wants babies, with Billy.

Aches Billy to love him.

He wants a life with this asshole. The whole nine. Steve runs his hand through Billy's hair and falls asleep imagining family Christmases, and vacations, and the fragile, shining hope that Billy will wake up tomorrow and swear that he's in love. That Steve is who he's waited 19 years for. That to each other, they'll always belong.

Obviously, that doesn't happen. Maybe.

If it does Steve wouldn't know, because Billy's not a lunatic. He's gone before the sky's fully blue. Leaves his phone number scrawled on the corner of Steve's mirror in Sharpie.

Steve's in love.

So. Immediately, he wants the impossible, but mostly, he just wants Billy. And by some giant, invisible, choking miracle he gets Billy. His body first, and then his thoughts. His laugh, genuine and biting and whole. Billy shares his memories, like pieces of bread dropped in water for hungry birds, for Steve. Achingly slow, he tells his hopes, his dreams, and.

Eventually, one night with his head on Steve's chest he says, "You terrify me. I never want it to end."

So. It's basically love.

Steve's a loose canon when it comes to this feeling. Pedal to the medal, he shoots through walls with bright red booming firepower until everything is cracked and bleeding and open around them. Until there's room enough to say, "I love you, move in with me."

So, Billy does. Impossible.

Wonderful and joking, even though it's not a joke when Steve's parents meet him on move in day and Steve's dad is thrilled that Billy knows shit about cars, and Steve's mom likes that Billy has a weathered recipe book that was, "passed down from my grandma, back in California," for her to find a place for in their tiny, warm kitchen while she unpacks.

"He's very nice," Steve's mother says, "Respectful. Handsome." In that same wistful, sleepy tone that she used when she first called Nancy wheeler sweet. Beautiful.

"He's a fine young man, son," Steve's dad tells him. "Try not to run him off."

Steve watches them reverse from the ratty, rocky, untamed driveway, with his heart in his throat. Imagines the day he and Billy will leave their kids, supported and loved fiercely, to make that wobbly step toward the brush-fire shore of their lives.

--

Steve's plan for the future lives and breathes in a small, tucked-away corner in his mind for months. He nearly chokes to death on it, several times a day, watching Billy relax into his routine.

Billy cooks dinner every night. They eat on the couch in their boxers, dishes left on the coffee table until Billy kisses him awake in the blue light of the television, "Let's go to bed, baby," he says. Steve always notices that the plates and cups are cleared away, the living room tidy for the dawn.

Billy buys a shovel and digs two holes in their patchy backyard. Steve watches him from the kitchen window, wondering what the cavities will grow with the start of spring.

Billy plants a clothesline. "My mom used to dry our clothes this way," He says, when Steve raises an eyebrow. He tacks sheets and sweaters to sway in the sunlight. Talks about laying a patio out there, so they can grill for people when it's warm.

Steve gets hard from the image of himself, in an apron, grilling hot dogs and hamburgers for their friends, first, and kids. Someday. A total dad.

--

Billy makes use of his library card and checks out every book about homesteading he can find. He learns about gardening, and bricklaying, and how to buff gashes out of hardwood floors. For his birthday, Billy hints at a Better Homes and Gardens subscription.

When Steve forks out the cash and the May issue arrives in the mail two months later, Billy presses a hasty kiss to his forehead and disappears onto the porch. He spends his Sunday afternoons with sticky notes and an overused ballpoint pen from that moment on, circling things that have no rhyme or reason, to Steve.

--

They've been living in their house for six months when Billy says, suddenly, "We should see if we can buy it." Like he's been planning his own version of their future.

It's Sunday, and he's just come up for air from Better Homes and Gardens. There's a cheese plate in his hands. He's parked by the front door, on his way out, looking startled as if the words escaped from a caged area buried deep inside of him.

"Huh?" Steve's more of the lay-around-and-rot-in-his-underwear-on-Sunday's type. He's eating ice cream out of the container, distracted by something Barney Fife says. He laughs.

"We should buy the place," Billy tells him.

Steve blinks, "The house?"

"It's our house," Billy says delicately, with all the weight of the world resting on him.

Steve looks up from the television set, shocked that Billy's hair is wet in some places and drying in others. As if he was being groomed by some large, impatient cat. He peers around Billy, out the screen door. "Is it raining?"

"Sprinkling," Billy says, "I have an umbrella."

"Your magazine's gonna get wet."

"I'm reading The Grapes of Wrath," Billy tells him, pulling a weathered copy out from under his cheese plate.

"Sure, but if the rain picks up, your book--"

"--The characters could use a little water," Billy says, "They're trapped in the dust bowl."

"I'm in love with you," Steve says. Like it's the first time he's ever admitted something like this out loud. So it's a surprise. "I like that you read. I like that you talk about everything like it's real."

Billy pads over to the couch and knocks Steve's legs apart. He settles on the arm of the thing, cold, wet toes pressing into Steve's thigh. Steve winces, sputtering when Billy feeds him a slice of American cheese wrapped in bologna.

He chews. Swallows. "I need to make more money, baby."

"Why," Billy asks, feeding himself.

"Because," Steve chokes on the next round Billy feeds him, heart soaring when Billy smiles, "Because if we're gonna lay a patio and grill for our friends I want to make sure you have decent ingredients."

"I don't mind the cheap stuff."

"You deserve better," Than what I can provide, Steve doesn't say.

Billy shrugs, feeding him another round of cheese and meat. "Well, if we're following through with the patio and the grill--"

"--And a porch awning," Steve says, feeding Billy a slice of cheese, "I'm adding that to the list. You can’t read your book and eat snacks while holding a fucking umbrella over your head."

Billy stares at him, swallowing and red cheeked. "I think any sort of permanent installment has to be cleared through the landlord."

Steve thinks about it, humming low when Billy slips off the armrest and settles, heavily, into his lap. "So, we buy the place."

"I need a better job, too."

"We'll look when the paper comes tomorrow."

They lapse into silence, eating cheese and bologna until it's gone, then they move to the ice cream Steve was working his way through, chuckling at The Andy Grifith Show.

It starts pouring rain, little hammers falling on the roof until the power flickers. "I want to make this house nice for you," Billy says.

Steve looks at him. "It's already nice."

"It could be better," Billy says, fiddling with the hair on Steve's chest. "We could have a garden. And I think the beige walls are boring as shit, we need to get some wallpaper. Or paint, or something."

"What else should we do?"

Billy shrugs, "The kitchen needs a rug. I saw this book at the library about how old men in Russia and China and shit learn to weave rugs on giant wooden looms. Some of them have seaters, and others hang them from the ceiling. Your car needs a new power steering pump--"

"--Sounds like you need a shed."

"Yeah, I guess so," Billy says. He grins, and then his brows furrow. "But. Steve, I want to build us a life, here. I want to start my life with you, I don't want to wait until we move to something we own, because I like this house, and I feel like when we start to grow our family, we can--"

Steve's heart stops beating.

His vision tunnels, all his focus collapsing on the words Billy says. Phrases that sound wonderful and impossible, all knitting together to equal nurseries built from two-by-four.

Billy stares at him cheeks red. "Sorry, I know we haven't talked about any of this. I get excited."

"I'm in love with you," Steve tells him, breathless.

"I know, dumbass, I'm in love with you."

Steve kisses him. Pulls away. "You really wanna buy a house?"

"Yeah. Not a house, this house."

"You wanna have my babies?"

Billy tugs on his chest hair, grinning when Steve yelps. "Maybe you wanna have my babies, instead."

"Sure," Steve tells him immediately, "Yeah, anything you want."

"I'm going back onto the porch," Billy says, "We'll start with the job listings in the paper."

Steve watches him go. Thinks he could be alright at this, being a husband and a father. Someday.

Right now, he's alright at being Billy's.

[bobby-r2d2-floyd]

The Nanny (Hangman x Reader)

authors note: so, hangman won by a long shot in the poll, but for the few that voted for the rest, they're still coming! i have to deal with the bs with my basement and i am a college student, so i have to deal with my coursework as well.

inspired by @roosterforme

this will be a mutli part series, im not sure how many parts though

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x benjamin niece!reader; established mav x penny

warnings: some swear words and an inaccurate depiction of how social workers handle dropping a baby off to its living, absent father. also cyclone is a dad bc jon hamm if a dilf.

not proof or beta read, we die like men.

summary: Hangman wakes up one day to a social worker and an infant on his doorstep. the infant? his 3 month old daughter.

word count: 1.9k

-----------

It was the one day that the Dagger squad had a later morning (11am, per Maverick’s request), so when the pounding on Jake’s door woke him up at 8:45, he was a little pissed.

He stumbled out of bed and the arms of some red head whose name he definitely doesn’t remember, throwing on a shirt along the way to his front door where the pounding is originating from and reverberating through his skull. “I heard you the first fucking time,” he curses out, throwing the door open and preparing to unleash verbal hell on the person standing at his doorstep.

All the words die out though when he sees an older woman standing there with a sleeping baby in a car seat at her feet. “Jacob Seresin?” she asks and his eyes bounce between the infant and the woman.

“Yes?” he asks, voice cracking a bit as he looks back to the woman.

“Do you mind if I come in?” he nods and moves aside as she picks up the car seat and steps inside. “My name is Caroline Husband, I’m a social worker for the state of California.” she tells him as she sets the seat down on his coffee table, “and this is Avery. Your daughter.” 

Jake feels his heart stop as he looks down at the little girl, “what, what do you mean?” he sinks down to the floor on his knees, heart racing and Caroline gives him a small smile.

“Her mother-” she looks down at the paperwork she was holding, “Samantha Barnes, passed away from complications shortly after birth, you were listed as father on the birth certificate.” 

Samantha Barnes… Jake remembered her with a small smile. They were briefly exclusive before she had disappeared one night, leaving behind the memories and a note saying she needed to go back home to help with her ailing father, her last living relative that she still spoke to.

“H-how uh, how old is she?” he asks, taking her small, but definitely bigger than a newborn, hand in between his finger and thumb.

“She spent some time with a foster while the state was waiting for you to return stateside. She just turned 3 months old.” Caroline forms him, which makes sense as he was just in the middle of the ocean for the last five months. “I have some supplies in my car that her foster mom put together for you, should you choose to keep her.” 

“Choose to?” he asks, as if there was any other option for him. The second he found out Avery was his, there was never any other option.

“You can alway sign your parental rights away, there’s plenty of families looking to adopt babies.” she says and he shakes his head.

“No, she stays with me,” Jake says as he stands and Caroline smiles up at him.

“Well then, there’s all the information that you need. Her old foster mom made a list of information for you, her pediatrician, what formula she was feeding, how to prepare bottles...” she goes on to tell him more necessary information about Avery but tunes her out as he watches the little girl start to wake up and look around, well, as much as a 3 month old can, he supposed. “Here’s my card, it has my personal cell phone number on the back should you not be able to reach me at my office in the event of an emergency.” 

He takes it with a smile and a thank you before walking Caroline to the door to help her bring the items in from her car and as quickly as she was here, she was gone. Leaving Jake to sit on his couch as he stares into the eyes of his daughter. 

He kicks out his guest after 15 minutes of sitting there before he’s googling how to put a car seat base securely into the back seat of a F-150. After fighting for what felt like an hour (only 10 minutes) he has his daughter secured in his car before driving way under the speed limit to The Hard Deck, only 45 minutes late to meeting up with the rest of the Daggers but as soon as they see him walk into the bar with a car seat, all the teasing for being late blows out of there mind. 

“Do we need to call the police?” Bradley teases and Jake lets out a nervous laugh.

“No.. no police needed.” Jake says as he sets his daughter’s car seat and diaper bag in the middle of the pool table the team was surrounding.

“Well, then who is this?” 

Jake takes a deep breath before answering, “this is my daughter, Avery Seresin.”

Immediately the team has plenty of questions for the team’s resident playboy. He explains the situation as best he can with the information he got from Caroline.

“I never even knew Sam was pregnant. She never said anything and then she was gone.” Jake says softly as he looks down as his daughter in his arms, sleepily drinking from the bottle he made and Penny gives him a smile.

“You seem like a natural already.” she says, snapping a photo of the daddy-daughter moment and he smiles.

“Yeah, I was still around when my sisters started having their own kids, all girls too, ironically.” he responds with a small laugh and the movement of his chest startled Avery awake and she starts drinking more steadily again.

The squad takes the rest of the day before the bar opens with turns holding the newest member of the team. Aside from Jake, Bob and Natasha were the only other two who seemed comfortable enough to hold her without needing any instruction on support for her head. 

“Does Cyclone know you have a kid yet?” Mav asks as he takes his turn holding Avery, seasoned from when Bradley was a baby and he used to watch him while Carole and Goose needed alone time. 

“Fuck, no not yet.” Jake groans as he rubs his hands over his face. “I need to go see him.”

“Go see him now, between Penny being a mom and me dealing with Bradley as a baby there’s plenty of experience here to watch Avery for a bit while you try to get some time to adjust to dad-life.” Mav says and Jake looks over at him.

“You’re serious?” 

“Yeah, besides, Avery is already better at 3 months than Rooster ever was.” Mav teases and Bradley makes a couple of offended noises before being slapped in the chest by Natasha. 

Jake nods, “okay well here’s her-”

“Hangman, get out of here. I did all this with Amelia.” Penny says as she pushes him towards the door and Jake pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you so much, Pen.” he says, meaning it too since Penny is the closest thing to a mom that he has since he hasn’t talked to his real mom in years. 

The drive into base wasn’t a long one, but felt like it was with how often he was checking his backseat and not seeing his daughter before remembering she was safe with Penny and Maverick at the bar. 

Walking into Admiral Simpson’s office, Jake broke out into a nervous sweat. “Um, excuse me, sir.” he says as he knocks on the open door.

Both Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates looked up at him from where they were sitting at the desk discussing some news that they received from higher ups. 

“Can I help you, Lieutenant?” Cyclone asks and Jake nods, taking that as an ‘okay’ to walk into the office.

“Yes actually, I uh.. I was wondering if I would be able to get leave, sir. I had a surprise visit from a social worker this morning and-and my infant daughter.” he says as he straightens out his back and rolls his shoulders back.

“You have a child?” Cyclone asks, closing the folder that he had open to focus more on Jake. “Since when?” 

“Well, as of 9am this morning, sir. Her mother passed away after she was born and no other living relatives so… She’s currently with me. Well, not with me Captain Mitchell and Penny Benjamin are currently watching her.. sir.” 

Warlock and Cyclone share a look and Jake stands there nervously, “I know that this is short notices but all I’m asking for is a week to figure things out, find a sitter, get some kind of a routine started for-”

“Okay.” Cyclone says and Jake looks at him instead of the spot that he had been looking at on the wall. “You only want just one week?”

“I can have more, sir?” Cyclone nods, having recently become a father himself and knows how important bonding is for parents. 

“Unless something urgent comes, how does three weeks sound?” he asks as he pulls something up on his computer and begins to type.

“I would greatly appreciate that.” Jake says with a small smile and Cyclone nods, ending the conversation and Jake starts to walk out of the office.

“Seresin?” Warlock calls out and Jake turns around, “congratulations.”

“Thank you, sirs.” 

Jake drives back to the bar already feeling lighter than he had in the last 6 hours, and upon walking back into the watering hole, he sees a red faced Avery and a panicked Rooster.

“Bradshaw what did you do to my daughter?” 

“What did I do? She threw up on me!” he says, holding the infant safely, and at an arm's length away. 

The rest of the team is laughing behind him and Jake just takes Avery and lays her against him so her head is on his shoulder, “well I’m sure you deserved it.” 

Bradley glares at him before wandering away to the bathroom to clean up. Jake smiles and rubs his daughters back as she babbles in his ear.

“How did talking to the boss go?” Penny asks and Jake smiles.

“Really good, actually. Said I can have three weeks as long as nothing urgent comes up that’ll need the full team's attention.” 

“Well, if you ever need a nanny so you can have a break and none of us are available, my niece just moved to the area and is looking for work.” Penny says with a small smile as Jake moves to sit next to her. “Plus she has a degree in early childhood and special education.” 

“Okay, yeah I’ll let you know.” he says with a nod.

“Well, you can meet her tonight, she’s supposed to come and help me out here for the night since Jimmy can’t make it in.” Jake just nods and Penny pats his shoulder that Avery isn’t sleeping on while she stands to start opening duties for the bar. 

Jake didn’t end up meeting Penny’s niece that night, or any time in the following week. In fact, it wasn’t until the last week of his leave that he met her. 

Jake was holding Avery as he walked into the bar before it opened, she was babbling up a storm and he took his sunglasses off to put on the top of his head when he saw someone new behind the bar, head thrown back and laughing at something that Bob had said. 

You look over at him and he swears his heart stopped, “Hi! I’m Y/N Benjamin, but you can call me Saturn.”

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

next part

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taglist: if you want to join the taglist for all my future works, shoot me a message and i'll be happy to add you :)

@mandylove1000

[penny00dreadful]

This is so fucking stupid and I'm not sorry. Inspired by this video of the two guitarists from DragonForce taking the piss out of Sabaton(affectionately).

Jeffington: Just ended your whole career on live 😘

Eddie scrunched his eyes closed then wrenched them open again, trying to make sense of what he was seeing on his screen. It was too early in the fucking morning for this shit. 

Whatever.

He buried his face back in between Steve’s shoulders and allowed himself to fall asleep once more.

Corroded Coffin had only started making it big in the early 90’s when they split right down the middle. As time went on they started to drift towards different subgenres. Jeff and Grant had wanted to explore a more international sound, while Gareth and Eddie were happy to stay in the power metal scene with just a touch of neoclassical. 

They had tried to make it work, but the sounds were just too different and while Eddie and Grant wanted to continue on with lyrics full of fantasy and gothic romance, Jeff and Grant had wanted to focus more on ‘the human condition’.

So they separated. Eddie and Gareth had kept the Corroded Coffin name while Jeff and Grant travelled, exploring their sound.

There was no animosity. They were all still the best of friends. Even as Jeff and Grant had settled in Stockholm, where they had quickly shot to stardom with their new band members, Eddie and Gareth made their home in California enjoying their own success. They met up as often as they could, whenever tour dates aligned or they were booked into the same festivals.

Eddie and Steve were godfathers to Grant’s youngest daughter.

He and Gareth had been groomsmen in Jeff’s wedding.

They were solid.

Which was why the text from Jeff was more exasperating than worrying. 

Plus it was like… nine in the morning which, granted, wasn't early, early but Eddie was a damn rockstar.

And he might have lost track of time reading last night and stayed up until four but that's besides the point. 

But then Steve was handing him his morning coffee with a kiss, saying Robin had sent him a link to something and fine. He’d go watch whatever stupid shit Jeff pulled.

Eddie settled back into bed because he could and it was a Sunday.

Sue him.

But he couldn’t decide if he should be fake-mad or wildly entertained because the link Robin had sent opened the VOD about an hour into the stream, just in time for Grant to say “Should we do Corroded Coffin?”

Both Jeff and Grant were sitting in Jeff’s studio space in front of Jeff’s computer with a range of instruments behind them, grinning at each other.

“Oh shit, definitely!” Jeff stood and seemed to think about it for a second before picking up one of his guitars, a bright acid green with black tendrils running throughout. “The most dramatic of the bunch,” he leaned into the mic, gesturing at the guitar before taking his seat again, “just like their frontman.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. 

“You think you can shred like Munson?” Grant asked, leaning forward and starting to tap out drum beats on the laptop.

Jeff scoffed. “Yeah right. Let me just play at five-fucking-thousand bpm and sing at the same time. It’s gonna be an approximation at best.”

Surprisingly enough the music they came up with did sound very close to Corroded Coffin’s sound. Grant relied heavily on the kick-drum and high hat to a ridiculous degree for Gareth's part and yeah, fair.

Gareth did love his high hat.

Jeff played the fastest guitar riff he could muster which honestly wasn’t that bad. He couldn’t go quite as hard as Eddie could but guitar was always Eddie’s first love and he was a master at his craft. Jeff gave the camera a cheeky wink as he used the computer to speed the guitar solo up, making it sound far more complex.

“I swear to god,” Eddie muttered to himself, “if they insinuate that I do that, I’ll fucking-”

“Eddie would never.” Jeff said, responding to someone in the chat who’d asked that very question.

Grant looked up with a sly smile. “Oh, god no. He’d never. He’s too proud for that.”

Cheeky bastards.

“You know what this needs?”

“Female backing vocals?”

“Yes!" Jeff snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Like something pulled from Jackson’s Lord of the Rings!”

“Oh come on!” Eddie pouted, but even still he could tell they weren’t actually making fun.

A notification popped up on Eddie’s phone.

Gare-Bear: Have you watched the stream?

Eddie: Watching right now. They’re starting on the lyrics.

Gare-Bear: Did Robin send you the link?

Eddie: Yeah.

Gare-Bear: Okay, keep watching.

Eddie: 👍

By the time the guys had hashed the lyrics out, punctuating them with high falsetto points that freaked Jeff’s cats out, Eddie was giggling into his coffee. The lyrics were so comically bad but they were so Corroded Coffin at the same time.

I wear armour and I am sad. I'm all alone and I am sad.  Such a lone wolf am I.  Except I'm not because here comes this hot man who's totally not my husband. Bats and demons and darkness and death. Bow down to me.  Kneel before me.  I am your master.  This is about sex. Oh, look, a dragon! I'll suck your blood then I'll fuck you through the wall. Except I won't because you're an allegory for my husband again. I'll fuck him instead. Every song involves him in some way. Because I'm a big fucking sap.

And then it happened. That crafty wench.

A message popped up in the chat.

BuckyBirdie: Needs more dick sucking lyrics.

“Holy shit.” Grant whipped out his phone. “R- Birdie? Is that you? Stay right there, hold on.”

While Jeff continued to play through the guitar, Grant disappeared, raising the phone to his ear before coming back a few minutes later and whispering something to Jeff.

Jeff’s whole face split into the most mischievous of smiles and Eddie only had time to think oh no before Robin’s face appeared, joining the stream with a tired if not slightly manic expression, all topped off by her yummy sushi pyjamas.

The first thing Grant said to her was “What fucking time is it over there, Birdie?” 

“I dunno.” She shrugged, looking down at her watch. “Like half six in the morning?”

“Oh. Could be worse then.”

“I haven’t slept yet.” She said with a bright smile.

“Dude! Why not?”

“I got into cryptography again last night and I haven’t stopped. Don’t tell Steve.”

Oh, I am so telling Steve. Eddie thought to himself.

“God. What a fuckin’ nerd.” Jeff punctuated his statement with a loud strum of his guitar.

Robin stuck her tongue out. “Takes one to know one.”

“Ouch. Right in my middle schooler heart.”

“Anyway, a little birdie told me you boys need some backing vocals?”

Eddie didn’t know how he was going to get her back for this, but he was sure he’d be able to figure something out eventually.

Like banging pots and pans in her hallway while she slept off her cryptography binge.

Though it was almost worth the hilarity because noted lesbian Robin Buckley happily sat there, singing about dick and tongues and assholes in a high ethereal voice that was then layered behind Jeff's.

By the end, the chat was going wild asking when it was going to be available to stream because even though it was a parody song, it was annoyingly catchy. Just before they signed off, Jeff and Grant let their audience know they’d ask Eddie and Gareth for permission before they’d do anything.

Eddie minimised the video and opened up his chat with Gareth.

Eddie: You wanna let them release it?

Gare-Bear: Fuck yeah!

Eddie: Awesome.

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen)(Ch. 1)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 3.0k+

Warning(s): Mentions of past car accident, mentions of minor character death/parents dying, swearing, implications of past bullying, mentions of high school lacking services, blood mention.

A/N: YAY i finally have this done. I’ve had this idea since before i started grad school and finally got it done! I hope yall enjoy :) This series takes place before Victoria’s army comes to Forks and Edward may be OOC but like, oh well.

Also in this series, Bella and Edward had a mutual break up w/ no hard feelings <3

Series Masterlist

---

"On foot

I had to cross the solar system

before I found the first thread of my red dress.

I sense myself already.

Somewhere in space hangs my heart,

shaking in the void, from it stream sparks

into other intemperate hearts."

--Edith Södergran, 'On Foot I Had to Cross the Solar System'

On one unfortunate night when you were seven, a drunk driver hit your parents car. Your mother on the passenger side died instantly, your father later succumbed to his injuries in the hospital. You were injured severely, but the doctors managed to keep you alive... At the cost of your voice. Chunks of glass tore through and stabbed your neck; the damage to your larynx was the worst, the second was nerve damage. You could speak in a very harsh, almost whisper-like, voice but it caused an intense amount of pain. You were upset. You hated that driver for what they took from you.

Your aunt and uncle took you in, and were able to help you adjust as you grew. They learned and taught you sign language, they helped you cope with the loss of your parents as best they could, and were always supportive. Despite their work lives keeping them away, they always tried their best to give you attention when they had the free time.

You found ways to enjoy life again, particularly in the stars. They were almost comforting to you when you were alone, looking out your bedroom window. You weren't sure why you have such an affinity for space and what it holds. Maybe because your father brought you out at night to point out all the constellations and their stories. Those moments with him started your interest. And now, you believed your parents were amongst the many stars in the vast universe.

You grew content with not having a voice. You adapted and overcame the curveball life sent your way. You just wished the pain wasn't constantly lingering.

---

It was the day you started going to your new highschool in Forks. It wasn't ideal transferring to a different school, but your uncle's job called for it. He was a firefighter and he was offered a sizable pay increase and rank promotion to fire captain if he took up the position for the Forks station. Your aunt, a nurse, was able to transfer to Forks hospital. They discussed the idea of moving with you of course, and you not wanting to hinder your uncle's promotion or damper his excitement, you supported the move from California to Washington.

You could already tell this rinky dink school wouldn't have anyone that understands ASL and the school said they are still looking to hire someone to be an interpreter of sorts, so you were mentally preparing yourself for the mess you may be entering. At least you transferred only three weeks into the new school year, that would make any school work you needed to catch up on relatively easy. It also helped it was your senior year as well.

As soon as you got out of your car, all of the heads of the student body snapped in your direction. You guess they've never seen a new kid before. You make your journey towards the building, hoping that no one would bother to talk to you. You already saw a teen walk up to you, he had straight black hair and a toothy grin.

"Hi, I'm Eric. You're the new kid." He seemed friendly.

You offer a little wave and sign, hoping he would get the inclination you could not speak.

"Shit... I don't know sign except..." He gave you the sign sorry before pointing to his ears and back to you. You shook your head and tapped your throat. "Oh! You can't speak." You nodded. "Sorry about all the confusion. Welcome to Forks High, home of the Spartans. I'm pretty much the eyes and ears."

You simply nod along when necessary and smiled as he gave you the very quick run down of most of the immediate gossip of school, which was centered around you, the new kid. He seemed like a nice guy but glancing at the clock you passed by in the hall you knew it was close to your first class.

"And don't get me started on the Cul-What?" You interrupted him as you held out your schedule to him, pointing to your first class. "Oh yeah, guess class is starting soon. Lets see... you're in 103 for English with Mr. Baker which is..." He glanced up. "Right down the hall. I have History right next door."

You smile at his help and follow him through the sea of students.

You wave Eric goodbye and enter classroom 103. You felt eyes of everyone land on you, but none more eye-catching or captivating as the gold pair near the back of the classroom. His gaze was intense, eyes wide, as he stared at you. You held his gaze. You weren't sure what to think at the moment but before anything could come to mind, an older gentleman walked in and stole your attention. You assumed correctly this was Mr. Baker.

---

Edward was the first to arrive for his first period class. He was always punctual, but there was a difference now. He no longer had Bella in tow.

It was a mutual end to their quick relationship. While her blood did appeal to him greatly, the fastness of their relationship hurt them both emotionally at the end. It was purely fascination of each others beings that they mistake as something else. While it did hurt, Edward could admit to himself he wasn't distraught over it. They remained friends and he was content with that.

Slowly, other students began filling the classroom as the clock ticked on. Everyone filling seats they usually sat in despite there being no assigned seating. No one ever sat next to him, often feeling intimidated by his status as a Cullen. The vampire paid them no mind, occupying his attention to watching the typical Forks rain traverse down the window he always sat by. He tuned out everyone's thoughts the best he could, letting his usual melancholy about his nature linger in his mind.

Edward perked up when he heard an fast-beating heart breakthrough his attempts of zoning out. Shifting his focus to the doorway his eyes latched on to the new student.

You.

It didn't take reading thoughts to feel the buzz of a new student arriving in the small school.

He felt... strange. Much like with Bella, your scent invaded his senses and made him thirsty, yet, that wasn't what caught his immediate attention.

It was the eyes. Something about them captivated Edward. He wasn't sure what about them had him staring at you, who now stared back at him. The vampire attempted to discern your thoughts and he caught an inkling of curiosity starting to bleed out before the teacher took your attention away.  His stayed on you, and didn't pay him any mind or had any idea he wad, and focused his enhanced hearing on the conversation.

"Hello, new student?" The teacher greeted and softly spoke your name. The auburn haired male watched as the you nodded.

Edward's curiosity peaked when he finally heard their thoughts, clear as the days outside of Forks.

"Yes, that's me. Do you know sign?" He heard their thoughts as he watched their hands easily relay in sign language. I'm expecting a no they internally sighed.

"Oh shoot I wasn't told..." A worried look passed on the teachers face as his sentence trailed off. Edward can hear his thoughts complain that the school failed to inform him about the new student outside their name and grade. A look of exasperation briefly flashed on your face.

Who would of fucking thought Forks High, a small-ass school, would not inform their teachers. Fantastic. Wonderful. I love it. It was a pointed statement that had Edward both mildly shocked at the language and pretty amused. I wonder how much others outside of Eric will put up with me here.

Edward sighed. He knew he shouldn't involve himself with another human but he couldn't help it. Whatever captivated him and the resignation you mentally expressed already had moved him. He got up from his spot and quickly moved to the front of the classroom.

"Apologies, I don't mean to cut in but I know sign."

---

You blink at the golden-eyed student he approached you and the teacher. You felt a grateful smile tug on your lips as you faced him. Immediately, you felt some appreciation and felt good about being wrong on your previous assumption.

"Thank you, Edward." Mr. Baker smiled in relief. Edward gave the teacher a small, tight lipped smile at him and faced you. The teacher introduced you to him. "And this is Edward Cullen."

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience." Edward spoke as you signed, his voice soft and velvety. Observing his face, you watched as his brows furrow at your statement, which became almost a second nature for you due to the way your previous school treated you. You often faced irritated glances or your existence ignored entirely outside the feo close friends you accumulated.

"Please relay to them-" Mr. Baker spoke but you immediately shook your head and held up a hand.

"I am neither deaf or hard of hearing, sir. I just can't speak." Edward translated for you again. "I look forward to class with you both." A smile appeared on his face again.

"You too. And you aren't being an inconvenience at all. It's the fault of the school, really." Mr. Baker offered a kind smile. Edward left the two of you, as if knew he wouldn't be needed again. "Take a seat wherever you want, I don't do assigned seating unless it becomes an issue." Mr. Baker gave you a kind smile and gestured for you to pick out a seat, while he moved to the classroom computer. You take a glance around, only seeing three spots open.

Your eyes landed on the one next to Edward, causing you to perk up. Though, you hesitated, his small smile and the single, subtle nod assured you it was fine to sit by him. Holding your backpack strap a little tighter, you move between desks to join him.

---

Edward watched as you sat next to him. You offered him a quick smile before you started pulling out your notebook and your small pencil case. You didn't look over at him as you stared up at the board, waiting for class to start.

The vampire was curious and while he knew it was an invasion of privacy, he couldn't help but try and focus in on more of your thoughts. Except he was met with...

What? His brows furrowed. Edward felt overwhelmed for a moment, his sense felt almost deprived as he tried peering in your mind again.

Edward suddenly saw what he perceived as a galaxy. Stars, planets, moons, a sun... it was vast and it was breathtaking. It wasn't something he never saw before, this detailed, in a humans mind. He was able to view this scene for just a few fleeting moments until he suddenly felt warm energy push against his mind.

The vampire blinked. His presence was back in classroom 103. He glanced toward you. Paying close attention, he didn't see anything that indicated you were in any way aware of what just occured. He heard the teacher swear under his breath as he attempted to get the projector working, and used this moment to speak with you.

Softly, he called your name, bringing your attention to him.

"How are you liking Forks?" Edward recognized he was a bit awkward, but you gave no inclination that you minded or judged him.

"It's wet. But I don't mind it. The scenery is nice." You signed and it was as if the cosmos that warded him from your thoughts was lifted. Hearing your thoughts again after being blocked out by the cosmos left him perplexed and curious.

"Forks does have its charm in scenery." He chuckled. "But I assume that isn't why you moved?"

"No, but it definitely is a bonus." You smiled. "My uncle got a promotion so we moved up from California."

"What does he do?"

"He is now the fire captain here."

Edward had a kind smile and offered a small congratulations to him. He then spoke again, "What does your class schedule look like?"

You reached into your zip up hoodie pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, you slid it to his desk. His golden eyes scanned the paper and he felt some sort of happiness that your schedules almost align completely. The only class difference was your last two classes, which would have you taking gym and history without him.

"Looks like we will be seeing each other a lot. We have almost all the same classes."

That's a relief. Edward suppressed a smile at your thoughts. I hope we can be at least friendly with one another.

"Since we have most of our classes together, would you like to be friends?" He asked. He could already hear Rosalie scolding him for getting involved with another human, but he didn't particularly care what she would think.

You were another anomaly to his, otherwise, stationary life. He has no plans to try and initiate a quick romantic relationship again. He simply was curious to the stars that lingered behind your eyes.

---

It was nearing lunchtime. You glanced out the window of your math class while the teacher closed out her lesson and began explaining what the homework was going to be. You were very grateful for Edward sticking by you in each course. He was able to help you talk to your teachers, answer and ask questions, and made Forks high a little more welcoming.

You had met two of his siblings in that time frame, Emmett and Alice, who were both a delight. Alice already expressed how much she was excited to finally get to know you, which you assumed she was wanting to meet the new kid, and Emmett offered to watch your back in gym with the biggest grin you've seen on a persons face. It also warmed your heart to find they also knew sign too.

The initial worry of being a forever outsider like before began melting away. So far things have been pleasant unlike your last experience.

As you mind wandered off to old school memories of bullies and loneliness, you were still unaware of Edward trying to discern your thoughts again. You missed the look of confusion and frustration on his face. Although, you did manage to hear him make a noise that sounded like frustration, which snapped your attention on him.

"Everything okay?" You ask him. He glanced up at the teacher who was now facing the board writing the homework down.

"Just... wanting class to be over." Edward gave you a tight lipped smile. "Mrs. Johnsons' classes are usually a bore."

You nodded with a smile and silent chuckle.

The class bell rang, signaling an end, and practically everyone ran out for lunch. You eyed the crowd trying to leave and shrug your shoulders. You scribbled down the equations Mrs. Johnson assigned before putting your class materials away and preemptively pulled out your brown bag lunch.

You glanced to Edward while you both stood up. You weren't sure if you should continue sticking by his side until it was time for your last two periods or find your own corner to decompress. Perhaps giving him a break from-

"Are you ready?" His soft voice cut through your thoughts. You blink, pausing for a moment, before nodding.

"Lead the way." You smiled, though you were sure it came off as nervous. There will be so many people...

"Would you like to sit with my family and I, or would you like to go somewhere quiet?" You looked at him a bit shocked, were you that easy to read? You could see the twitch of his lip like he was going to respond but he kept quiet.

"Somewhere quiet, just for today."

"Follow me then."

---

Rosalie sighed as she leaned against the table, waiting for her siblings to join her and Emmett for lunch. She then looked to her partner and leaned against him, who laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Her golden eyes followed Bella's form with a glare as she sat down with her friends.

"Come on, babe. Her and Edward have no hard feelings." Emmett spoke in a quiet tone.

"It's still a danger to us." She grumbled.

"Nope! She still becomes a vampire like us." Alice suddenly sat down with a bright smile.  Jasper was quick to sit down next to her.

"Even after what happened with the Volturi and James?" Emmett asked.

"Yep. While the course of her and Edward's relationship definitely changed, she still becomes a part of our clan."

"Great." Rosalie rolled her eyes and then glanced around at the table. "Speaking of Edward, where is he?"

"Probably off with the new kid." Emmett smirked. "They seem pretty nice. Edward's been helping them since they can't speak."

"Another human?" She looked to her partner then to Alice. "Did you..."

"Have a vision of them? Yes. The day before Edward and Bella parted their romantic relationship, I had a vision of them coming to Forks. And then after meeting them, I saw them and Edward, looking pretty close." She smiled and giggled.

"Great, another human who is going to choose to be a vampire." Rose scoffed.

"Rosalie-" Alice's usually bright expression drops. Everyone at the Cullen table looked at her with worry as it appeared her eyes glaze over. Jasper immediately gripped her hand under the table as he could feel a wave of sadness wash over from her.

"Darling?" Jasper whispered.

Alice blinked rapidly. She looked to the others with a worried expression. "I... I didn't see the specifics but... It wasn't their choice."

It was silent between them. Rosalie's eyes were wide, Emmett clenched his fist under the table, Jasper tried his best to calm everyone, and Alice simply blinked and tried looking to the future again.

She could see you, crying and writhing as the venom from a bite on your arm took hold, blood all over you. Edward and Carlisle were right by your side, speaking. But she couldn't hear what they were saying.

All she heard was a high pitched ring.

And then the vision flashes a blinding white and she swears she could feel intense heat against her face.

She was back at the table again with her family. It was the same vision as before. Never had she seen such a bright light, heard such a noise, or felt anything like that from a vision.

"We have to talk to Carlisle."

[mint-yooxgi]

{9} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Slight focus on Jongho)

Words: 12,135

Warnings: Violence. Arguments and verbal fights. OC gets some sense slapped into them by Reina, literally. Mentions of blood and of small cuts being inflicted to a wrist to draw blood. Mental Illness: mentions of anxiety, depression, and PTSD. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Not me staying up to post this when I have work in a few hours lmfaoooo anyways, this chapter turned out much longer than I expected! So, yay!! I'm quite happy with how it turned out, cause I feel like the stress of the situation is a sort of catalyst to the argument that ensues. I'm just glad I was able to get in everything that I wanted. It definitely starts off a bit tense, but the ending is quite light and happy. Also, potential smut next chapter anyone? 👀 As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

The moment Yeosang feels you brush against his mind, he’s appearing in Reina’s apartment.

“Sweet baby, Jesus.” Reina places a hand over her racing heart as he now stands across from her in the living room. “You weren’t kidding when you said they can just appear.”

“I told you,” you chuckle, moving over to stand beside him. 

You notice that she rests just a tad bit shorter than him as she looks him over, her arms crossed over her chest.

“So, you’re Yeosang.” She takes a moment to look him up and down. “The musician.”

“And you’re Reina.” His brow quirks slightly in amusement. “The best friend.”

“The one and only.” She grins, tucking the tome further beneath her arm. “Though, you had longer, blond hair the first time we met.”

Yeosang spares a glance at you out of the corner of his eyes. “That I did.”

Briefly, you lean into him, explaining lowly what Reina remembers of the incident.

He nods in understanding.

“So,” Reina’s voice draws both of your attention back to her, “you play the violin.”

“I do.” Yeosang confirms with another brief nod of his head.

“A little birdie told me that you learned a specific melody for her.” There’s a knowing lilt to her voice as she says this. “Well done.”

The corners of Yeosang’s lips quirk upwards. A certain pride begins to fill his chest seeing as he cannot get a read on Reina’s thoughts anymore. There seems to be a spell blocking her mind from his, keeping her opinion of him secret. Though, from what she’s implying right now, he assumes that he’s gotten her approval. Or at least, some of it.

“You can do your best friend interrogation later,” you step over to playfully nudge her shoulder. “We’ve got another pressing matter to attend to.”

“Right, right,” she waves you off as the two of you step back over to Yeosang. “Sorry, I can’t help it. Now that I know, I need to make sure they pass my inspection and everything. They may be Kings, but I’m still your best friend.”

You snort out a laugh just as Yeosang places a hand onto each one of your shoulders.

“You know that your approval of them won’t change how I feel.” You grin. “Also, brace yourself: bend your knees, and close your eyes. It helps with the nausea the first few times.”

You barely make out the confused furrow of her brow when Yeosang is teleporting the three of you back home. Once the foyer is in view, you notice Reina stumble forward, and you immediately move to steady her on her feet.

“I warned you,” you chuckle, helping her straighten back upright.

“I don’t think there’s a proper warning for that.” She grumbles, brushing some stray flyaways out of her eyes. She blinks a few times after that, further clearing her vision.

From down the hallway, you notice a few of the other guys file out of Jongho’s room. The commotion must have drawn their attention, and you watch as Reina tenses ever so slightly as the commanding presences of the Kings of the Realm washes over her. The worried pull of their brows could definitely be mistaken for looks of irritation.

Only, she doesn’t have a chance to dwell on it all that much for Sudaem is stepping out of the room.

A gasp of awe escapes Reina, bypassing all of the males to walk right up to the gorgon.

“You must be Sudaem.” She extends her hand out to the female. “I’m Reina, baby caster. Nice to meet ya!”

Sudaem seems taken aback by Reina’s forwardness, and you can only chuckle fondly as you lightly push your best friend into the room.

“We can do proper introductions later.” You finally step into Jongho’s bedroom, seeing that he hasn’t moved a single inch since you last left him two hours ago. Stella seems to be absent as well. “We’re on a tight schedule here.”

“I’ve prepared everything that I could,” Sudaem addresses you. “There are a few things left that the spell requires, other than the caster’s performance.”

“What else does the spell need?” You inquire, watching as Sudaem moves over to the side to grab her own spell book that has been resting open on top of the dresser this whole time. Wordlessly, she hands it to Reina.

“It will need your blood, since you are connected to him in such a way currently.” She says, bringing a brass bowl filled with ash root, along with a few other things, over to you.

Carefully, Reina places her own tome down onto the dresser, balancing the other spell book effortlessly in her hand. You can see her eyes darting over the words on the page, and you just know that she’s taking in all of the instructions with excruciating detail. Her mind is practically racing behind her eyes, suddenly feeling the pressure of this moment building on her shoulders.

“This is a complex spell.” She comments, worried gaze darting over to you.

“It is.” Sudaem is the one to answer, a nod to her head as she holds the bowl beneath your wrist.

You turn to look at the males standing at the side of the room. “I’m going to need a blade.”

You can see the hesitation on their faces even before they say anything.

“If this is going to work-“

“We know, Dearest,” Yeosang grimaces. “We just don’t ever like seeing you injured, no matter the context.”

“I understand that,” you incline your head. “But-“

“I’ll do it,” Hongjoong steps forward, a small dagger appearing in his hand and glinting beneath the candlelight that illuminates the room.

The curtains have long since been drawn, blocking out any and all natural light. Even the door to Jongho’s room has been closed since you’ve all reentered it, only the faint flickering of the flames causing shadows to dance over the walls.

Carefully, Hongjoong grabs your wrist in his free hand, thumb gently stroking over your unmarred skin. He glances upwards briefly, noticing how you nod subtly at him. A small, reassuring smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“How much blood is needed?” He directs his question towards Sudaem, not even bothering to break eye contact with you.

“At least five drops.” She replies instantly, holding the bowl steady all the while.

Hongjoong nods his understanding, and you can sense the tension in the room radiating off of the others as he brings the edge of the blade to your skin. A flick of his wrist and blood begins dripping into the bowl beneath you. Yet, as always, the pain of such a wound never comes, and from how intently he seems to be staring at your wrist, you know that he has something to do with it.

Not even ten seconds later, Hongjoong’s thumb is tracing over the small incision. Smooth skin replaces the open wound as he heals you without another word, turning his sharp gaze briefly to Sudaem. She scurries away, moving beside Reina with the bowl after hearing his silent command loud and clear.

This should be plenty of blood, anyways.

“All that’s left is to cast the spell,” Sudaem says, and you notice how everyone’s gaze suddenly turns to Reina.

She blinks. “No pressure, or anything.”

“If you can summon the Eight Kings without knowing what you are, you should have no issues with this spell.” Sudaem comments, and you sense the slightest bit of reassurance leaking into her tone.

Your brow quirks slightly.

Taking a candle into her hand, Reina holds it just above the brass bowl that Sudaem clutches beside her. Lightly, she tilts it, allowing the wax to begin dripping into the mixture periodically. Steam begins to rise from the bowl as Reina begins chanting, focussing her energy into casting this spell for the time being.

The bowl bursts into flames, Reina’s voice echoing throughout the room and commanding your attention. Faintly her eyes begin to glow, the whites taking over every visible colour as an intense wind kicks up inside of the room.

You hold your breath, feeling Hongjoong place a comforting hand onto your shoulder just as you reach for Jongho’s own. You can tell that you’re not the only one holding on to another as a lifeline in this moment, worry clear on all of your features as you glance between Reina and Jongho continuously.

The blaze within the bowl begins to die down, along with the wind. Not even a moment later, all of the candles go out, and the room is shrouded in darkness.

Subconsciously, you tighten your hold on Jongho’s hand.

A blink, and both Mingi and San have relit the candles, bathing the room in a warm amber glow once more. The bowl still smokes, but no longer are Reina’s eyes glowing. The only difference seems to be the rise and fall of her chest as she desperately fills her lungs with air.

“Did it work?” She meets your gaze, a sort of hesitance to her voice.

Some complicated spell that was, there weren’t even multiple components to it.

Quickly, you turn your head to face Jongho, noting the steady rise and fall of his own chest. You don’t notice any physical changes, so you lean into him, lifting your free hand to caress the side of his face.

The whole room goes still, anticipation lingering throughout. Not even the flickering sound of the flames can be heard as you all watch Jongho intently, waiting for that tell tale sign of movement beneath his lids.

Except, it never comes.

Your whole body freezes, heart suffocating painfully inside your chest.

“It didn’t work…” your voice is small, words nothing more than a whisper on your lips.

Tears begin to well in your eyes as your throat tightens. You were betting everything on this spell, not even bothering to think of the consequences of it not working. You had faith in Reina, and you had faith in him.

“You must have done something wrong.” Mingi rounds on Reina, a stern frown pulling at his features.

The gorgon shakes her head, devastation clear on her features. “She didn’t.”

“Did we have all the proper ingredients?” Yunho directs his question towards Sudaem, stepping in beside the stunned gorgon.

Sudaem stands there, hands trembling as she clutches the bowl in front of her. Her lips part periodically, like a fish out of water as her snakes begin shifting restlessly over her head. Her slate grey eyes shine with unshed tears, fear freezing her to her spot.

“It should have worked,” she whispers, whole body beginning to shake. “We did everything right: the ingredients, the preparation, the caster.”

“We knew there was going to be a possibility that it wouldn’t.” Seonghwa keeps his voice low, though you can still hear the panic seeping into his tone.

“Are we sure it was the right spell?” San begins pacing, his hand coming up to support his chin as his mind races with what to do.

“It has to be,” Sudaem answers lowly, blinking a few times to clear her vision. “There’s no other spell he could be under, and this is the only one I know to bring him back.”

You opt to remain quiet, mind reeling with all of this information, and lack there of around you. Desperately, you attempt to come up with a solution for a problem you don’t know all of the variables for, drawing a blank each time.

Hesitantly, Reina shifts over to the dresser. She places the spell book in her hands gently on top of the wood, pulling her own tome closer to herself. Slowly, she begins flipping through the pages, skimming through the words until she finds the section she’s looking for. Once she does, her eyes dart over the lines quickly, brain scrambling to comprehend everything going on around her.

A call of your name from her draws your attention.

“Don’t dissociate just yet, and get your ass over here.” Reina states, quite firmly, without taking her gaze away from the book.

Wordlessly, you move over to her side.

“Dissociate?” There’s a hint of worry to Wooyoung’s voice.

Reina points to the page for you to read before turning around to face the others in the room.

“She’s about to get into her own head again,” she blinks, crossing her arms as she leans back against the dresser. “Can you not see the signs?”

A low warning growl escapes San’s lips.

“Don’t growl at her.” You turn your head to look at him from over your shoulder, brow tugging downwards disapprovingly. “She’s only trying to help.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn back around. Reading the words on the page explaining the ‘Veil of the Hypnos’ spell keeps you grounded for the moment, head spinning with what you can do to save Jongho.

“You all need to keep talking.” Reina instructs. “I’m still new at this whole witching thing, but tell me everything you know about this curse he’s under.”

The several males all share a brief look, but it’s Sudaem who speaks first. Calmly, she explains all that she knows about the spell to Reina. Everything that she’s already told you.

Your body goes still, mind churning as you hear the details once more.

“So, he’s stuck in a plane between this world and the next.” You state, blinking blankly down at the page before you.

“Every second lost he could be straying further from his body.” Sudaem confirms, fingers nervously wringing together. “Not to mention what else creeps through the veil.”

You swallow thickly, lips pursing into a thin line. Softly, you begin to nod to yourself.

Reina spares a look at you out of the corner of her eyes. “I know that look.”

“We just need to bring him back to his body.” You’re somewhat just speaking out loud at this point, but you do not shift your eyes away from that page open before you.

The words ‘connection’ and ‘high emotion’ practically glare back up at you.

You turn to look at Reina.

A silent conversation seems to be happening between the both of you. She tilts her head in inquiry, to which your eyes widen exasperatedly. A moment later, her brow furrows in concern while you begin to nod quite eagerly.

“No.” Her tone is firm as she shakes her head. “No way in hell.”

“What?” There’s an even bigger look of worry pulling on Wooyoung’s face as he looks between the two of you.

“Three-hundred and fourteen seconds.” You say. “That’s all you need to give me.”

“That’s just over five minutes.” Hongjoong’s brow furrows in confusion, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Read the page and tell me that that’s not what it’s implying.” You practically slap your hand over the tome open on the dresser beside you. “I can bring him back."

“There is no way I am putting you under the same curse as him just so you can, what? Stumble your way through the veil and attempt to find him?” She replies, her eyebrows practically raising into her hair as her voice rises in pitch. “I am not killing my best friend. That spell hitting you is suicide.”

A hushed understanding passes over the room and panic immediately seizes each male.

“You’re thinking what?” Seonghwa’s eyes look about ready to bug right out of his head, needing to rest a hand against the wall for support.

“Not if I’m prepared for it!” You counter. 

“We’re not putting you under to lose you, too.” San’s voice is firm, a hint of desperation shining through as he looks to you.

“Petal, we need to think this through.” Yunho’s worried tone comes through, his heart pounding restlessly in his chest.

“I have thought it through.” You turn to them. “If this is the only way we can get Jongho back-“

“It’s not the only way.” Sudaem cuts in, her eyes somewhat glazed over as she stares at the ground in thought.

“It doesn’t matter!” Wooyoung is frantic, crossing the distance between the two of you in an instant and holding you at arms length. “We just got you back! We can’t lose you again.”

“This is my choice, Woo.” You reply, placing your own hands gently atop of his own and sliding them from your shoulders.

“No,” San shakes his head. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“This is insane.” Mingi begins pacing, pulling at his roots once more.

“I’m thinking perfectly fine.” You reply calmly, turning meeting Hongjoong’s wide eyed gaze. “Wasn’t it you who told me that the first step to sanity is embracing the insane?”

“Now is not the time to be arguing about this.” Yeosang crosses his arms over his chest. “Dearest, you can’t say something as reckless as that right now. We might lose our brother, don’t make it so we lose you, too.”

“You won’t lose me.” You shake your head.

“You don’t know that!” There’s genuine fear in Seonghwa’s eyes as he falls to his knees. He looks about ready to start pleading with you in a moment, genuine desperation clear on his features.

“The spell didn’t work when we tried it on Jongho to bring him back,” Hongjoong attempts to keep his voice calm, levelheaded. “What makes you so certain it will work to bring the both of you back this time?”

“I’m connected to all of you, aren’t I?” Your gaze darts around the room, and you notice how Mingi, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung have all started to cry.

“Starlight-“

“Hold the fuck up!” Reina cuts in, furious gaze locked on you. “Are you negating the fact that I will not be casting such a spell on my own fucking best friend?”

“Reina-“

“Don’t you, ‘Reina’ me! I’ll admit, we’ve done some stupid fucking shit before, but this takes the cake!” She slams her hand on top of the dresser beside her. “Do you realize what you’re fucking asking of me? In front of them no less?”

Her free hand points in the several male’s direction, clear panic on her features.

“I understand-“

“I don’t think you do!” Her eyes blaze with an unrivalled fury, the whites of her eyes beginning to glow.

“Um, excuse me-“ A timid voice attempts to cut through the thicket of booming arguments being thrown around the room.

“They would be doing the exact same thing for me right now if I had been the one to actually get hit!” You counter, arm flinging out in the direction of the bed Jongho rests upon to point at him. Briefly, your gaze darts around the room. “You’re telling me that none of you would be thinking any differently if you knew that this was your only option left?”

“There’s a difference, Dearest,” Yeosang grimaces. “We are not human.”

“Excuse me-“ The voice is a little firmer this time, but still gets ignored.

“Don’t you dare play the entities card on me right now.” The tears of frustration you so desperately attempt to hold back begin to streak down your face. “What happened to us being equals?”

You fail to miss the side-eyed glance Reina gives you, backing away slowly from the rising tension in the room.

“That’s not fair, and you know it.” Mingi’s voice is low as he freezes in his spot.

“No, what’s not fair is the double standard you all have when it comes to doing things for me.” You counter, voice rough with the rawness of your emotions. “So, you all can risk your lives for me whenever it pleases you, but when I wish to do the same for one of you it’s suddenly not okay? I’m the reason Jongho is in this godforsaken mess in the first place. Am I not allowed to want to right my wrong? Am I not allowed to want to save a man I love?”

“You know we’ve never blamed you for this, Baby.” San states, wiping away his tears using the back of his hand.

“Petal, we’ve talked about this,” Yunho grimaces slightly, taking a half step towards you only for you to avoid his reach.

“If this is the only option we have, then I will gladly sacrifice myself for someone that I love.” You see the devastation on their faces as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“But, what about us?” Wooyoung’s voice is small, probably the quietest you’ve ever heard him.

“What about you?” You cross you arms over your chest, a slight frown pulling at your features.

“Are you that desperate to ignore our own feelings on the matter?” San meets your gaze, and you can feel your throat tighten.

“Of course not!” You immediately reply, shaking your head.

“We swore that we would always protect you, and now you want to risk your life for a plan that might not even work?” Mingi shifts restlessly from foot to foot, his hair sticking out in odd ends.

“We don’t know it won’t work.” You reason. “Besides, I’ve survived much worse than some measly little curse.”

Collectively, their breaths hitch.

“Don’t go there.” Seonghwa’s hands brace himself on the floor, his tears spilling freely onto the hardwood beneath his palms.

A low, warning call of your name sounds from Reina.

“We have already almost lost you more times than we ever thought we would,” Hongjoong states, keeping his voice low. “Don’t add another mark to the tally.”

“Then, what are we supposed to do, Hongjoong?” Your hands desperately run over the top of your head, fingers digging into the skin of your skull.

He remains silent, the others offering no other solutions, either.

“This is my choice,” you breathe out. “A choice I know all of you would be making if that were me on that bed right now.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Wooyoung replies, quite exasperatedly. “Your guilt is blinding you from reason!”

“You think I’m doing this solely out of guilt?” You turn your gaze to the younger demon standing near you, your eyes blazing with a sort of pained fear. “That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Do you think that we don’t know exactly what you’re going through right now? That we don’t understand exactly how you’re feeling?” Seonghwa’s voice is strained, glancing up at you through tear filled eyes. “What’s not fair is you making light of the worst night of our lives.”

Your breath catches, and you swear your heart stops. A second later, and your hands are balling into fists at your sides.

“Do you really think that night was any better for me?” Your eyes are bloodshot from all the crying you’re doing, voice cracking as your whole body shakes. “You only got to see the aftermath. I had to live through it! I’m still living it. Every time I close my eyes, if I don’t watch my every goddamn thought, she is there. She is everywhere I look, and she continues to torture me even in death. She has woven herself so deeply into my life that each time I think I pull a thread loose, another appears to take her place.”

“Petal,“ Yunho takes a concerned step towards you again, nothing but sorrow pulling at his features.

“Do you think I’m not terrified to wake up every morning, only to discover that this has all been some elaborate fabrication that she has made in my mind to continue torturing me with?” Your admission has them all freezing in their spots, tears beginning to fall freely down all of their faces. “I never want another person to experience even an ounce of pain that she made me suffer through, and now Jongho could fucking die because of my mistake!”

“Don’t make his sacrifice into something horrific.” Mingi shakes his head, voice barely above a whisper as he attempts to reign in his emotions for the moment. “He would have done what any of us would have in that situation.”

“That’s exactly my point!” You raise your hand a bit exasperatedly in the air. “You cannot avoid the truth that’s always been right in front of you. That’s not fair at all.”

“You think that it’s fair to Wooyoung that you avoid the dance studio because of what she did to you in it?” Yeosang’s voice cutting through the darkness of the room surprises even you. He keeps it steady, watching you with a cautious gaze the whole time.

The aforementioned male remains quiet, a new sense of stillness travelling through the room as Wooyoung suddenly avoids your gaze when you look to him.

“Do you think it’s fair to Seonghwa that you do the same to his tailor shop?” Yeosang adds lowly. San places his hand onto the elder’s shoulder in worry, but Yeosang just shrugs him off before continuing. “You haven’t even looked at the art room or the garden since everything happened. Do you think that’s fair to Yunho? To Hongjoong?”

“Yeosang-“

Yunho’s own worried protest gets cut off by the aforementioned male.

“You haven’t even touched the piano since that day at your parents house,” he continues, keeping his tone steady as he watches you physically trembling before his very eyes. He can tell that you’re doing whatever you can to hold yourself together at this point in time, but you’re simply a moment from falling apart. “Do you think doing something this reckless will reclaim those parts of yourself that you lost? Have you even tried getting them back?”

A brief silence.

“Maybe I don’t want them back.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, yet you fail to realize exactly how your words sound to everyone in that room.

Reina’s eyes are wide as she watches the crestfallen expressions overtake each male’s face. He gaze darts around the room, noticing how nearly all of them barely keep themselves together, whole bodies shaking as the two tallest males fall to their knees.

The sound of the slap reaches your ears before you feel the harsh stinging on your cheek. 

A gasp of surprise escapes Sudaem, her hands coming up to cover her mouth in shock as she stares at the scene before her. Reina’s hand still rests in the air, your head turned harshly to the side as several low warning growls resonate throughout the room.

No matter what the circumstances might be, you are still their Queen, and they will do whatever they can to protect you.

Little do any of you see the way Jongho’s fingers twitch subtly in his sleep.

“How dare you fucking say that in front of me.” Reina’s voice is low as she pulls you upright and holds you firmly at arms length. “Do you even know how that sounded? Directed at them of all people? Pull yourself together. Now is not the time to be arguing about this. You said it yourself, time is of the utmost essence! Sudaem has been trying to tell you all something for the past ten minutes. So, pull your head out of your ass, and stop being a selfish, heartless crab!”

This seems to snap you out of your angry stupor, blinking at your best friend a few times to clear your head. Only, just as you begin to nod along with her words, Reina is torn from you, being pinned to the wall by her throat.

“Don’t you ever speak to My Divine like that again.” Seonghwa’s voice is low as he leans into her, nothing but a harsh whisper on his lips. The eldest looks completely crazed right now, tears streaking down his cheek as his eyes flash in warning.

“Raise your hand against Our Queen like that again, friend or not, and it will be the last thing you ever do.” Wooyoung seethes, gaze pitch black as he stands just behind the eldest for the moment.

“Seonghwa, Wooyoung,” you manage to step over to them, pulling them away from Reina in an instant. “She’s right.” 

Your best friend crumples to the floor, coughing slightly as she attempts to catch her breath.

Turning to face all of the males once more, your shoulders deflate. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“We can talk about it later,” Yunho’s voice is soft as he helps Mingi back to his feet. “Okay, Petal?”

A small nod is all he receives in response.

“Geez! You weren’t kidding when you said they’re extremely over protective.” She wheezes, using you as a support as you help her back to her feet.

“You were the one brave enough to slap me in front of them.” You chuckle, feeling all of their eyes on you.

“More like stupid enough.” A weak smile tugs at her lips as she leans on you for the moment. She lets out a chuckle of her own, teasingly nudging your side. “Well, stupid is as stupid does.”

“She’s slapped you before?” There’s a hint of irritation in Mingi’s voice when he says this, head tilting forward the slightest bit in disbelief.

“We’ve been roughhousing since we’ve been young.” You shrug. “She’s the only one allowed to slap me, and I’m the only one allowed to slap her. Only when we’re being ridiculous, of course.”

“She still hurt you.” San stands tense across the room, hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Because I was hurting you.” You meet his gaze briefly before turning back to face Sudaem. “My apologies, you were going to say?”

The gorgon straightens a bit in her spot, clearing her throat as she feels everyone’s eyes on her. Nervously, she shifts from foot to foot, her snakes falling silent around her as their tongues flick out to scent the tension slowly dissipating from the air.

“I was just going to say,” she looks to you, “this isn’t our only option.”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, there’s another spell that will put you under, and enable you to walk through the veil without having to use the ‘Veil of the Hypnos’ curse.” She explains.

“Then, what are we waiting for?” You take an eager step forward.

“Petal, we need to talk about this,” Yunho’s worried voice reaches your ears, the events of the past ten minutes still swirling through his mind.

“Hang on a moment, I’m not done,” Sudaem raises a hand in the air in a halting motion. “This one does indeed have a time limit, and you cannot wander too far from your body lest you actually wind up lost in the veil forever.”

You swear you see Mingi pulling out his hair again just as Wooyoung turns around with an exasperated huff.

“There’s no winning with this, is there?” Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head.

“How does it work?” You motion for Sudaem to continue.

“Well, again, since you’re connected, you would have the best chance of finding him if put under.” She begins. “Your mind would essentially be transported to the space between realms and set to wander freely for about five minutes. Then, we’d have to pull you and whoever you’re holding on to back out. At least this way we guarantee you won’t die on contact from the initial casting of the spell.”

“And if I can’t find him?” You spare a glance at all of them around the room. “What then?”

“Then, we’ll take it from there.” Seonghwa sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Your lips tighten into a thin line, turning back to face Sudaem as your thoughts race. Shifting, you rest a hand on top of the dresser to support yourself with as you look down at the ground. Blinking a few times, you think everything over.

“This all has to do with the mind being separated from the body, right?” You spare a glance at Sudaem.

“In a way, yes.” She confirms. “The body cannot live without the mind.”

“What if the mind had a physical attachment to this realm? Would that give me more time? Would it make the spell easier?” You meet her gaze, and you know she can see the gears turning in your mind.

“It’s possible, but I’m not sure.” Sudaem replies honestly. “It might make it easier when you get called back to your body, though. You’d have a direct path back to it, no matter how far you were.”

You nod your understanding, turning to face the several males standing off to the side once more. One brush against all of their strings lets them know exactly what you’re thinking.

The several males share a look.

“We don’t like this, but at least it’s a better option than the other one.” Yunho crosses his arms over his chest.

“We’d rather it be one of us that goes under.” San adds, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“There are things worse than just mist floating around inside the veil.” Seonghwa breathes out, somewhat shakily.

“Then, I’ll be quick. If anything happens, I’ll tug back so you know to pull me out right away.” You state rather firmly, turning back to face Sudaem. “What do I need to do?”

Sudaem spares a glance around the room, the faintest hint of apology on her features as she meets the King’s gazes. Then, taking a deep breath, she begins.

Which is exactly how you find yourself sitting on the edge of Jongho’s bed, his hand held tightly in yours not even five minutes later.

“We’re going to need more of your blood.” Sudaem holds that brass bowl in her hands once more.

Mingi, Wooyoung, and San all curse under their breaths.

“I will gladly bleed again,” you state, rather firmly. “I will bleed as many times as it takes to ensure that this works, and he comes back to us. It’s what I would do for any of you, and I know you would all do the same for me.”

Any words of protest that had been building on their lips fail, frustrated looks of understanding passing over their features. You’re right, and even though they don’t particularly like this, they’ll deal with it. They have to.

Again, it’s Hongjoong that gently slits your skin, taking your pain and making sure to heal you as soon as possible. This time, though, Sudaem paints a symbol over the back of your hand, mirroring it on Jongho’s as his is still held firmly in your own.

Softly, you brush up against that maroon string in your mind before grabbing ahold of it as tightly as you can. This string will be your lifeline to him, and you hope beyond everything that your theory of it guiding you to him is correct.

A second later, you feel the rest of the guys doing the same to you. You don’t even need to look at any of them to sense the worry and slight hesitation that they all have lingering in their thoughts, for you sense it loud and clear through the mind links.

They move in closer.

“You’ll have just over five minutes if this all goes well.” Sudaem tells you, moving over to stand beside Reina who holds the one spell book in her hands.

“Angel, are you sure about this?” Wooyoung’s frantic voice reaches your ears, and you can see the concern still clear as day in his gaze as he looks at you.

“Positive.” You nod, and despite the shakiness to your breath, you believe that this will work.

“Any sign of danger, and you immediately contact us to pull you out.” San reiterates, cupping your cheek and forcing you to meet his gaze. “Okay, Baby?”

“Okay,” you nod your understanding, briefly leaning into his touch before turning away from him.

“We’re right here, Petal.” Yunho steps closer, sitting beside you on the bed and placing a hand onto your back in comfort.

You smile. “I know.”

Lovingly, you brush against their strings. Although it’s slight, you can just tell how much that simple notion helps them to relax.

Lifting your head, you turn to glance at both Sudaem and Reina. “I’m ready.”

Two nods from either female greet you in response. 

“Remember, send a pulse through the bond after every minute that passes so I know how much time has elapsed, and that I have left.” You spare a glance at them out of the corner of your eyes. “After the fifth one, if I don’t tug back immediately, wait fifteen seconds, and then pull me out.”

Nods of understanding are seen around the room from all of them, and you notice how Yeosang comes to kneel beside you. A blink, and he’s grabbing your free hand into his own, clinging to you for dear life. You don’t even have to look at him to know how worried he is. Not only that, but how remorseful he is for the way he spoke to you. The sorrow is written all over his face.

He will never forgive himself if they can’t pull you back out. The last thing he wants is for your final memory of him to be his harsh tone reminding you of your own trauma responses. He knows it wasn’t right of him to say those things and make you feel worse than you probably already do. Especially right now.

“Let’s do this.” Determination shines in your eyes as you look down at Jongho resting on the bed. Silently, you tug on that maroon string connecting your mind to his, sending reassuring thoughts his way.

I’m coming, Baby Bear. You swallow, somewhat nervously. Wait for me.

Not even a moment later, Reina begins immediately focusing on the page before her, while Sudaem holds that bowl close by. Softly, Reina begins chanting, her eyes beginning to glow white as power surges through the room. You can feel the mark on the back of your hand beginning to burn, and when you look down, it begins to glow a deep red. Again, a breeze picks up throughout the room, shifting the flames as shadows dance along the walls.

Then comes the silence, followed immediately by the darkness of all of the candles going out once more.

A blink and the flames are reignited.

“Did it work?” Hesitantly, Reina glances around the room.

All eyes are drawn to the bed where they see your limp body resting in Yunho’s arms. Your eyes are closed, and the symbol drawn in your blood glows faintly. Luckily, your chest seems to rise and fall steadily in even breaths. Faintly, all of the males in the room brush against your mind, holding onto that connection for dear life.

Your five minutes start now.

The first thing you notice when you go under is how light your body suddenly feels. It’s as if you’re floating upon a cloud, swaying gently with the breeze.

Your brow furrows, and groggily, you begin to blink your eyes open. Slowly, you begin to stand.

Fog surrounds you on all sides, a bright light shining from behind you. Turning reveals a faint archway, multiple colours streaming through the pale golden light. Familiar colours which seem to stretch out and attach themselves to you.

Sparing a glance down, you nearly jump back in surprise.

There, resting peacefully on the ground, is your sleeping body. You notice your arm stretched out to the side, and following the path it makes reveals Jongho’s body laying directly beside yours. Your fingers are intertwined, a faint red glow emanating from your hands.

At least you have a marker to make it back to.

Backing up slightly, you watch as those colours stretching out from the archway move with you. A moment later, and they seem to pulse with movement.

Your eyes widen in understanding. A minute has already passed.

Turning around to face the vast expanse before you, you attempt to peer through the fog. The faintest outlines of a maroon line can be seen in one direction, and you cling harder to that string in your mind.

Gently, you give it a small tug.

Something roars in the distance, and you feel your blood run cold. Whipping your head from side to side, you fail to see anything close by. Yet, that doesn’t prevent you from putting one foot in front of the other quickly in order to begin following that faint maroon line further into the mist.

The only sounds that reach your ears are that of your breathing, and the constant repetition of your feet scraping along the ground. Frantically, your eyes dart around you in search of any signs of movement, or shapes through the mist. You have a creeping feeling of being watched, and you know to trust your instincts for the moment, especially when in a place like this.

Feeling the second brush against your mind, you quicken your pace. Again, you tug lightly on that maroon string, and this time, a low growl sounds in the area, much closer than before.

You follow it.

“Come on, Baby Bear,” you mutter, eyes desperately scanning the mist for something. Anything. “Where are you?”

With every step you take, you notice that faint maroon line becoming brighter and brighter. The fog seems to be thinning too, and you can begin to make out faint shapes in the distance. One seems to be much large than the three surrounding it, and as you get closer, you begin to see corpses of… things lining the ground.

Limbs are twisted in odd angles, black blood splattered against the pale grey ground. These things appear creature like in shape, some having leather wings like bats, while others are more dog like, but they’re all about the same size. Not to mention they all seem to be that same pale grey colour as their surroundings.

Just as you feel that third brush against your mind, you see them.

A large brown grizzly bear fends off the last three of these creatures. One gets trapped in his maw, while another is torn apart by his claws. The last creature manages to jump on his back, sinking it’s own claws into his skin as he cries out in pain. Only, the bear manages to roll over quickly, crushing the smaller creature beneath its tremendous weight.

He stands back to his feet as he shakes out his fur, starting with his head.

You’d recognize that movement anywhere, and before you can stop yourself, you begin sprinting towards him. Another frantic tug is given to that maroon string and you watch as that bear lifts its head in your direction almost instantly.

Warm, brown eyes meet your gaze, and you swear you see that maroon line leading directly to him light up with a vibrance unlike ever before. In a few bounds, he’s reached you, nuzzling his snout into your neck and stepping in as close to you as he can.

What are you doing here? His voice sounds a little frantically inside of your mind, and you physically breathe a sigh of relief.

I came to get you. You brush your hands over the top of his head tenderly, wrapping your arms around his neck and practically sinking into his soft form.

It’s dangerous here. You shouldn’t be-

Neither should you! You immediately cut him off, pulling away to stare deeply into his eyes.

The fourth brush is felt against your mind.

We need to hurry back, I only have a minute left before they pull us out. You motion behind you with your head.

How do you know which way you’re going? I’ve been lost in here for days. The furrow of his brow is clear, even while in his bear form.

You smile. I’ve got my lights to guide me home.

Instantly, you picture connecting his string to all of his brothers inside of your mind, and the way you feel the land around you begin to tremble lets you know that they’ve all felt it. Only, you have less than a minute to make it back to your bodies before they’re pulling you out.

Subtly, you notice Jongho’s eyes glance over to the low glow of the colours attached to your form. Bending down, he motions for you to craw onto his back. 

Hop on.

Without hesitation, you do.

Jongho immediately takes off into the fog, chasing those colours that drift through the air and connect you to all of them back home.

A warning screech echoes in the distance and you hear Jongho curse lowly.

Stay low to my back, the ones with wings are ruthless. He instructs, picking up his pace the slightest bit.

You do as told, clinging to his fur for dear life as Jongho races through the mist and back to that bright archway that begins to shine faintly in the distance. Luckily, you don’t see anything chasing you, but you know better than that. The faint flapping of wings, and pounding of feet upon the ground behind you lets you know that more of those creatures are giving chase, and they don’t seem to be relenting anytime soon.

With each passing second, you can see that archway getting closer and closer. Faintly, the outlines of your bodies can be seen laying on the ground, not having moved a single inch since you left them there about four and a half minutes ago. In fact, you’re positive that fifth brush will be coming at any moment now. You just hope you can both make it in time.

The second you feel that fifth brush against your mind, you go tumbling from Jongho’s back mere feet away from your body.

A frantic call of your name is heard above the hissing surrounding you, feeling pain erupt on your arms as claws dig into your flesh.

Blinking up at the creature, you see a sight that tears a shriek from your lips. It has no face, except for a jagged slit of a mouth where its chin should be. Rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth greet you as its lips pull back in a what appears to be a gleeful grin. Leathery wings protrude from its arms, it’s claws pinning you in place on the ground as your blood spills from your wounds.

The faintest hissing of the word ‘human’ on the air draws your attention. A horrid hissing that is filled with excitement the more it echoes around you by varying creatures, all of whom begin to step out of the fog and surround the two of you endlessly.

A blink, and the creature is swiped from above you, being torn in half by Jongho’s claws.

You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, blood rushing through your veins as you roll over quickly to avoid another dog-like creature pouncing on top of you. Luckily, you roll right into your own side, eyes wide as you see Jongho a mere foot from you.

A frantic call of his name escapes your lips as you reach out to him, knowing you only have mere seconds before you’re pulled out of this veil and back to reality. So, you fight with everything that you are to hold on for as long as you can. Until you can feel his hand in your own.

It’s as if the word around you moves in slow motion. You begin to feel an unfamiliar tug at your mind, pulling you backwards through the archway by your head. It’s as if a hook has been placed right behind your forehead, jerking you backwards unforgivingly as Jongho shifts back into his human form. Desperately, he reaches out to you and his own body with each of his hands, fingers just brushing against your own. 

At the same time, the creatures surrounding you all lunge. Snarls sound all around you as they attempt to reach you before you can escape, hissing about not letting such a delicacy leave.

The last thing you see is a wall of creatures swarming you as you pass through the veil. You experience a brief feeling of falling, your hand tightening around something warm as you sink into the abyss surrounding you.

You close your eyes.

A gasp escapes you as your whole body jerks upwards in Yunho’s arms. Blinking a few times, you clear your vision, noticing how you seem to have slid off of the side of the bed and onto the floor. Still, Jongho’s hand in held in your own.

Your breathing is frantic as you heave air into your burning lungs, head turning every which way to gather your bearings. Yeosang rests beside you, clinging onto your opposite hand as he presses it to his forehead. The chest your back is pressed against belongs to Yunho, and you notice the others surrounding you with looks of complete worry on their features.

Your whole body aches, but you force yourself back onto the bed, much to their discontent.

“Dearest,” Yeosang reaches out to you, brushing one of his thumbs near your chin.

You shrug him off, glancing a hint of red now lining his skin.

Breaking your hold on his hand, you wipe at you nose. Pulling away reveals your own blood, and you begin to wonder just how long your nose has been bleeding for.

No wonder they all look so worried.

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong kneels in beside Yeosang, placing a gentle hand onto your thigh. Though, with how badly you feel him shaking against you, you cannot tell if it’s more for him or for you at this point.

You nod, turning to face Jongho on the bed.

“I had him.” Your voice is no more than a whisper, tears leaking out of your eyes as you look down to see him still in that calm state of sleep. “He was right there.”

You practically collapse on top of him, sobs wracking your entire body as you pull your intertwined hands up to your chest. It’s faint, but you swear you feel his fingers tighten against your own.

The room is quiet around you, but it seems somewhat brighter than before. Someone must have opened the curtains to let the natural light of day in around you. It’s warm, and you swear you can feel a ray of sunlight shining directly onto your cheek as you keep your eyes closed for the moment. Warmth of which is mirrored in the way a hand tenderly caresses the back of your head.

“My Darling,” a rough voice, strained from lack of use over the past day and a half, reaches your ears. “Why are you crying?”

Your whole body freezes, breath catching in your throat as your heart skips a beat inside of your chest. Tentatively, you shift your head, peering up at him through tears which blur your vision.

A blink, and they clear, falling upon your cheeks like rain against a windowpane.

Your lower lip quivers as you watch him sit up with you in his arms, his warm, brown eyes searching your face carefully. His hand that had been gently cradling the back of your head shifts to cup the side of your face tenderly, brushing away your tears with his thumb.

A moment of stillness travels throughout the room.

In the blink of an eye, you’ve fully collapsed into his arms, a fresh round of sobs tearing from your throat. Your whole body shakes as apologies fall endlessly from your lips, hands desperately clinging onto him as if he may disappear again at any given moment.

Softly, he shushes you, cooing gentle reassurances in your ear as he rocks you back and forth while in his arms.

“I’m okay.” He keeps his voice low, holding you to him as desperately as you cling onto him. “You’re not at fault.” Your breath hitches. “You’re not at fault.”

You sob harder.

“We’ll be in the foyer.” Reina’s soft voice reaches your ears, and you assume she’s guiding both herself and Sudaem out of the room to give you all some privacy.

More apologies fall from your lips a you bury your face into the side of Jongho’s neck. With your void down for the moment due to the requirements of the spell, they can all tell that you’re no longer just apologizing to the youngest anymore, but to all of them. Yourself included.

“It’s alright, Darling.” Jongho strokes a hand tenderly down your spine as his brothers all come to sit around the edges of his bed. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s good to have you back.” Yunho nods once, quite firmly, at his younger brother. His voice is strained, and it’s not just from seeing you in such a fragile state yet again.

Jongho smiles faintly. “It’s good to be back.”

Desperately, your hands cling to the front of his shirt.

“I should have listened to you,” you’re babbling at this point, but you don’t care. “I didn’t think-“ a sharp, stuttering inhale, “you almost died because of me.”

“Hey, hey,” Jongho grabs you gently by your cheeks, pulling you away from him so you can meet your gaze. “Stop that right now. I know how worried you were about your sister. Do you not think I’ve experienced that same worry when you are threatened?” He rests his forehead against your own, staring deeply into you eyes. “It is not your fault.”

“But-“

“No ‘but’s!” He places a finger against your lips, soon beginning to wipe away the dried blood with the edge of his blanket. “I wanted to help you, to protect you, and I would gladly do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

You fall silent, fingers curling the slightest bit tighter against his shirt.

“I thought…” you squeeze your eyes shut.

A brief look is shared with his brothers around him, and his heart squeezes painfully as they divulge with him their memories of the final moments before, and shortly after, he succumbed to the spell.

Jongho’s grip tightens around your body, his voice low, “My Darling, you know I could never blame you for this.”

Your breath hitches in your throat once more.

“You are not at fault.” He breathes. “I sincerely apologize that I ever made you believe that you were.”

You shake your head, sniffling all the while.

“But I did, Darling.” He rests his chin on your shoulder. “I hurt you when you were in such a fragile state, and now you won’t stop blaming yourself for something that was completely out of your control. If anyone is to blame, it’s that fucking bitch.”

Low growls of agreement sound from around the bed.

Slowly, you begin to calm down, yet all you can do is nod your head.

“What-“ Jongho’s breath catches in his throat, “what happened while I was out?”

The whole time his brothers share with him their memories of the past thirty-three hours or so, Jongho sits on his bed completely still. You swear that he’s stopped breathing all together, his chest barely rising and falling as you continue to cling onto him for dear life.

The second you feel something wet land on your shoulder, you pull away to stare into his eyes.

Tears stream endlessly down his face, a look full of nothing but painful sorrow resting on his features.

“You-“ his voice trembles, and he can barely get the words out. “You fell.”

Again, you attempt to shake your head, “no-“

“You fell because of me.” Utter devastation suffocates his very soul, guilt beginning to rise and crush his heart from the inside out.

“It was a misunderstanding.” Your hands now rest on his shoulders as you sit in his lap, your legs resting on either side of him.

“My Darling, I am so sorry-“

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Your voice is firm as you cut him off.

“Neither do you.” He responds without a second of hesitation.

You fall silent for a moment, blinking shamefully as you avert your gaze. “Yes, I do.”

Finally, you turn to face the other seven males still in the room with you. Luckily, Jongho settles you between his legs, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you to his chest for support.

Glancing upwards, you look around at the males before you.

“I apologize for what I said earlier.” Your voice trembles the slightest bit with the weight of your emotions. “I didn’t mean those words to come out the way they had, but they did. I shouldn’t have kept everything bottled up for so long inside. I should have told you, and I should have considered your own feelings towards the matter.”

“Baby,” San’s worried voice reaches your ears, his eyebrows drooping as he watches you avert your gaze to your hands.

“I should have been more honest with you all about how I was feeling.” Your thumbs begin to nervously rub over one another. “I never meant to hurt any of you.”

The males all share a brief look.

“We were all in the wrong.” Hongjoong says, words barely above a whisper. “We should have known you were barely holding it together all this time.”

“How can you know if I don’t tell you?” You exhale a low breath, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

“Dearest,” Yeosang goes to reach out for you before stopping himself. Almost shamefully, he retracts his hand. “I apologize for what I said to you. It wasn’t the time, nor place to dump that on you, nor was it right of me to do so.”

“But you were right.” You spare a glance upwards to see Yeosang staring down at his own hands. “By avoiding reminders of her, I had inadvertently been avoiding all of you. That’s not fair to any of you, or what each of those spaces mean to us, and I apologize that it took me this long to realize that.”

“We weren’t lying to you when we said that we would get through this together,” Wooyoung cracks a small, hesitant smile in your direction.

Softly, you nod, wiping at your eyes all the while. “I was so focused on my own trauma, I neglected your own.”

“We all deal with things in different ways.” Mingi clears his throat, bringing a hand up to dry his tears.

“That’s no excuse for what I did.” You reply. “For what I said.”

“You were right, though.” Seonghwa swallows thickly. “If that was you, we would have done whatever it takes to get you back. Consequences be damned.”

Jongho squeezes your waist slightly, assuring you that his brother speaks nothing but the truth.

“Aren’t we all a great pair,” you chuckle teasingly. “Letting our emotions always control us.”

A snort is heard from Wooyoung. “Maybe not always.”

Even his brothers shoot him playfully incredulous looks.

“Only when it comes to each other,” Hongjoong sighs, somewhat wistfully as he finally stands back to his feet.

“If you start having doubts again, or anything of the sort, you tell us right away, Baby.” San meets your gaze, a somewhat firm look shining behind his eyes. “Okay?”

“The same goes for me with all of you,” you take the time to look around at all of them once more, seeing them smile softly at you in response.

“You do not have to suffer alone, Petal,” Yunho smiles assuringly in your direction. “Your worries do not burden us at all.”

You nod, shifting off of the bed with the help of Mingi and Seonghwa.

“I guess some habits are just that hard to break.” You sigh.

“Baby steps, My Love,” Hongjoong moves over to the door, a gentle smile tugging at his features as he looks back at you. “Baby steps.”

Wiping at your eyes a final time to ensure there’s no more evidence of your tears, you begin to exit Jongho’s room. You don’t even need to look their way to know that they all follow closely behind you.

Breaching the foyer, you see both Sudaem and Reina conversing softly on one of the front couches. Both spell books rest closed on the table before them. However, as soon as Sudaem senses you, she’s hopping up from the couch, he snakes shifting almost bashfully over her head.

Her gaze darts to Jongho just off to your left. “I’m glad to see you well again, King Jongho.”

Reina stands, a small quirk to her brow.

Without wasting another moment, you walk directly over to the two women and wrap them in your arms.

“Thank you.” Your voice is low, nothing but raw gratitude seeping from your tone. “For everything.”

Softly, you feel Sudaem rubbing your back while Reina pats you gently.

“I’m glad I could help.” Sudaem whispers, pulling away to stare deeply into your eyes. “If you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.”

“I appreciate that,” you smile, nodding as you step away to give them both some space. “Know that the sentiment is shared.”

“Anyways, I best be going now,” Sudaem shuffles slightly on her feet, reaching over to grab her spell book from the coffee table that rests beside her. “I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Wait, how will I be able to contact you for lessons?” Reina’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and you recognize that almost desperate look shining within anywhere.

The corner of your lips quirk upwards knowingly.

“If you ever need me, send word with Stella.” Sudaem smiles, and you watch as Reina nearly swoons.

“Okay,” she nods, quite enthusiastically.

“It was lovely meeting you!” Sudaem directs the comment towards your best friend as she waves goodbye, her snakes hissing happily.

“You, too!” Reina waves back as Sudaem walks over to the guys for the moment.

“Uh, would it be okay if one of you-“

“Already on it,” Yunho smiles lightly at the gorgon, teleporting her back to her own domain in an instant. In a blink, he’s returns, straightening out the front of his shirt slightly.

“So,” you wiggle your brow teasingly at Reina, “Sudaem, huh?”

“Shut up.” Reina grumbles, pushing you playfully.

“She’s sweet, isn’t she?” A knowing smirk tugs at your lips as you watch your best friend avert her gaze somewhat bashfully.

“So,” Reina clears her throat, composing herself a bit better for the moment, “introductions now, or later?”

You motion to the guys with your hand, letting them decide for themselves if they’d like to introduce each other to your best friend. Your void has long since been back up, so you take the time to brush against their minds now.

Immediately, they all brush back.

“I think introductions are a great idea,” Hongjoong says, a small quirk to his lips. “After all, you helped save our brother.”

She nods, a kind look resting on her features as they all incline their heads to her in thanks.

“Hang on a second,” you lift a hand once more in a halting motion as you look at Reina. “How did you know that Yeo was what he was when he dropped me off?”

“I’ve seen portraits,” she shrugs, “but I didn’t know their names. My gran was adamant about not,” she clears her throat, nose scrunching as she prepares to imitate her grandmother, “incurring the wrath of the Eight Kings by invoking their names.”

You can’t help it, an amused snort escapes you.

“So, I recognized him, but I didn’t know which one he was until you told me his name.” She explains, to which you nod your head. “I am very interested to learn which ones are which based off of what you told me.”

Just then, a loud mewl is heard from the hallway leading to your room. A loud gasp is escaping Reina’s lips as a black cat struts into the room, tail flicking back and forth eagerly in the air.

“Is that Kuroo?” Her lips part, an excited smile pulling at her features.

Softly, Kuroo weaves his way through all of your legs, brushing languidly against both yours and Mingi’s the longest. A moment later, and he’s trotting over to Reina who bends down to extend her hand out to him. Cautiously, he sniffs at her fingers before beginning to rub his face all over her.

Giggling, she begins to scratch at his head, Kuroo beginning to purr loudly all the while.

“Well, aren’t you just the handsomest man of the hour.” She coos, chuckling as Kuroo chirps back happily in response.

“Oh, no, don’t say that.” Wooyoung sighs, almost exasperatedly. “It’ll go straight to his already overinflated head.”

“But he’s so cute!” She coos, picking him up to hold him in her arms. “And fluffy!”

A content mewl greets all of you in response.

“Kuroo is Sammy two-point-oh.” You say, watching as understanding passes over Reina’s features. “Just less of a troublemaker.”

“Ah,” she nods, rocking him gently in her arms, “I see.”

Softly, she begins cooing at him once more, and you can just tell that he’s just loving every second of it.

“Okay, so,” you quirk a brow, “introductions?”

“Oh, wait,” Reina’s lip quirks mischievously in the corner, “can I guess?”

You snort out a laugh, gaze darting to the males beside you who shrug nonchalantly. “Be my guest.”

“Hang on, there’s actually one of you who I’ve been dying to know whom is who since she told me.” She admits, eyes scanning over all of them. “I know him,” she motions to Yeosang with her chin seeing as she holds onto Kuroo for the moment, “but which one of you is Yunho, the painter?”

Said male’s brows raise slightly in amusement, waving his hand to indicate that he is who she’s looking for.

“I would give you a thumbs up, but my hands are full,” she chuckles. “Either way, nice.” An approving nod is sent his way. “So far, you’re my favourite.”

The looks all several of his brothers send him in mild disbelief has a laugh falling from your lips.

“It was the portrait, wasn’t it?” You turn to look at Reina, a grin tugging at your features.

“Literally, why isn’t it hanging right there?” She shifts Kuroo over to her one arm, motioning to the central wall behind the front desk. “Guy paints what is presumably the most beautiful portrait of a gorgeous lady you’re all in love with, and you can’t even display it in your front foyer?”

Reina tuts, shaking her head teasingly.

“Don’t give them any ideas,” you whisper lowly.

Mingi tilts his head slightly in acknowledgment. “She does have a point.”

“See!” Reina replies, somewhat exasperatedly. “The cat dad understands!”

“Cat dad?” Mingi quirks a brow.

“Are you not Mingi? The one who got this little rascal for her?” Reina pats Kuroo lightly on the butt, receiving a small whine from the cat in response.

“I am.” He confirms. “How did you-“

“He rubbed against you the longest out of all of you,” she blinks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. In the next moment, she pulls the cat away to brush her nose against his own, a teasing lilt to her voice, “besides his mommy.”

A hand comes up to muffle your laughter as you hear Kuroo complaining loudly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s embarrassed. He jumps down from Reina’s hold quite quickly after that, strutting away back down the hallway and towards you room.

You walk over to Reina, flinging an arm around her shoulders as you lean on her teasingly for support.

“Okay, so,” you grin, “You technically know four of them.”

“That I do,” she hums, gaze briefly darting over to meet Jongho’s. She sends him a polite smile, noticing how he nods briefly back. “Let’s see, we’ve got the cook, the dancer, the tailor, and the one who should have told you he liked playing with knives sooner.”

At her words, Hongjoong’s eyebrow twitches.

“Ah-ha!” She points at him, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “So, you’re the one she got with the steak knife.”

A snort of laughter is heard from Wooyoung at this, and even Yeosang, San, and Mingi all have a hard time suppressing their chuckles.

“You’re lucky, then,” Reina continues, a devious look shining behind her eyes as he quirks a brow. Despite your attempts to stop her, she holds you off from covering her mouth. “Normally, she just threatens to stab you instead.”

“Reina,” your voice is a bit exasperated as you whine out her name.

Despite the fact that they all quirk their brows in some way, Wooyoung looks the most visibly eager to learn more.

“What else does she threaten to do to people?” He leans the slightest bit forward, excitement gleaming in his gaze. Though, he knows that he’s not the only one dying to know.

“Well, not so much actually threaten, but she has very vivid rants about certain people.” Reina hums knowingly. “My ex is one of them.”

“Yeah, well,” you turn to look at her. “He deserves to get his dick ripped off and shoved down his throat for what he did to you.”

“Case in point,” Reina chuckles knowingly, motioning to you beside her with her hand. “Though, I’d say that was one of your more tamer ones. Wouldn’t you?”

You shrug lightly, a slight hum escaping you.

“Anyways,” she turns her attention back to the three remaining males she’s yet to identify. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you’re the dancer,” she points at San, “he’s handsy,” she points to Wooyoung, “and you’re the ‘pretty boy’.”

Seonghwa’s eyes look as if they’re ready to fall out of his head for the second time that day as both Wooyoung and you burst out laughing.

“Oh, you were doing so well, too.” You pat her on the back.

Lowly, Seonghwa begins to grumble about being referred to as handsy once more, crossing his arms over his chest. A large pout tugs at his features all the while as his brothers all chuckle around him.

“It was one time!” He frowns.

“Oh, it was more than once,” the corner of your lips quirk upwards in a knowing grin. At the way his pout deepens, you’re quick to add, “I never said I didn’t like it.”

“Ew!” Reina slaps your arm teasingly. “There are children present!”

“Children?” Yeosang quirks an amused brow.

“Yeah,” Reina snorts. “Me!”

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes. “Who was it that called me to drive her to the ER because she got her-“

A hand is slapped over your mouth quite suddenly, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips. Not even a moment later, her face is contorting in disgust as she pulls her hand away, wiping her palm on your sleeve, seeing as you licked her.

“You are gross.” She sticks her tongue out at you.

“You love it.” You playfully bat your eyelashes at her in response.

“Yeah, yeah,” teasingly, she gives you a light shove while rolling her eyes.

None of the males across from you can prevent the way loving smiles pull at their features as they watch you interact with you best friend. It seems as if the more time you spend with her, the more you relax. A fact of which they could not be happier about. Besides, you seem to be having fun.

“Anyways, you’re half right about Woo being handsy number two, though,” you motion to the aforementioned male with your chin.

“Hey!” He whines, a dramatic pout tugging at his features.

“You’re still in second place, Sunshine.” You grin fondly, mirth dancing behind your gaze as you meet his own.

“Oh, damn,” Reina says. “I really screwed up at the end there.”

“You were off by one each, if you rotated them to the left,” you pat her back assuringly.

“My bad,” she smiles somewhat nervously.

“At least you didn’t say Mingi was the cook,” San grins, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

“Hey!” Said male whines.

“To be fair, I thought he was handsy at first,” Reina shrugs.

Yunho immediately bursts out laughing, slapping Mingi on his back as the younger male begins to turn bright red.

“He definitely could be,” Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head somewhat fondly.

“If you think I’m bad with my fantasies…” Wooyoung trails off, immediately taking off down the hallway as the elder male begins to chase after him.

Reina laughs, looping her arm around your waist. “I can tell it’s never a dull moment with these guys.”

“You have no idea.” You smile lovingly at them, seeing the way Kuroo now chases after Wooyoung, too, with Mingi in tow.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” she turns her head to you, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Wanna give me a tour of the house?”

[saltsicklover]

Title: Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Part 2 of 2 - Completed

Find Part 1 HERE, and my Master List HERE

A request based off of THIS prompt, from the lovely @inkandarsenic

Romantic Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Platonic Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Fem!Reader

A few uses of Y/N

Word Count: This part: 14k+ Total Fic:20k+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of death, minor character deaths, labor, loss of a child in utero, abandonment, drinking, talks of God and destiny, swearing, general military talk and lingo, descriptions of food and eating, coughing fits, talks of violence, actual violence, blood, vomit and throwing up, mention of near death experiences. ANGST

---

I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. The weekend before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A cellphone is tucked between Monsoon's cheek and shoulder, the line trilling. She carries her duffle bags and kit, feeling like a battering ram as she makes her way through the crowd of people. The airport is packed and she can feel just how humid it is form how sticky she feels.

The hallways of the airport wind as she follows the crowd out of the baggage claim. The people around her move just a bit too slowly as they wheel their bags behind them, just begging for someone to trip over them if they dare pass. If there is one thing Monsoon did not miss about being at Top Gun, it's the trip in.

Fuck flying coach.

Fuck PSC Season and all of the families taking all the seats on the military flights.

Fuck the crying lady sitting next to her, who wouldn't stop sobbing at the shitty romcom she was watching, and fuck when she decided to start it over, just to watch it all over again.

But the best thing about coming back has to be seeing her surrogate father, Beau Simpson. Their relationship has only grown stronger since that night at the bar. They have spent countless meals together, drinking at bars when they are in the same place and always sending 'check in' emails. Phone calls have always been a bit dodgy between time zones and deployments.

Neither one knew exactly what they were getting into when the bond between them grew, neither really sure exactly what a parent/child relationship looks like, especially when the child is really an unrelated adult. But as the days went on, and the email chain got longer and longer, things seemed to just make sense.

The pair talked about everything, from work to dating, friendships and recipes. Cyclone opened up about June and their baby, sharing his favorite stories of their marriage. From how they started dating, to the day that June passed, Monsoon heard it all. 

Calla lilies were June's favorite, the only flowers that Beau believes should ever be given to a woman, and Monsoon smiles at the memory of her graduation from Top Gun, and the way Cyclone smiled at her with the bouquet of lilies in his lap.

When Monsoon found herself in Vermont she carved out time to visit June and Baby Boy Simpson at the cemetery. She showed up with two bouquets of calla lilies and a speech to give them. Monsoon cleaned their headstones and laid the flowers delicately across their plots, speaking to them the whole time about herself, and Cyclone, and the world they live in.

Cyclone's phone buzzed in his pocket while in a meeting. When he snuck a peak, he was met with a photo of Monsoon, a light smile adorning her face as she sits just in front of the burial plots. The message read "With Mama June and Bubba, thinking of you, Pops". Cyclone had to excuse himself from the table with tears in his eyes.

As the years went on, the surfaces in Cyclone's office slowly began to fill with more photos of the two of them. The collection of frames started out sophisticated, it really did, but as time went on, the frames became more eclectic, more fun. 

It's juxtaposes the rest of Cyclones office in a way that is almost comical. As he is shouting at someone for their latest fuck up, there are shelves full of silly frames just a few feet away. Cyclone's favorite just so happens to read "Clown College Class President" while Monsoon's favorite is one of those irregular shaped ones, with an oval opening for the photograph.

There is a photo of the two of them tucked in the cockpit of Monsoon's jet. It catches the mechanics off guard every time, but no one dare says a word about it- mostly out of fear that word would get back to Admiral. The photo depicts the two of them at one of those giant truck stops, posing with the large dinosaur sitting out front. She is sat atop of it, like a cowboy, with Cyclone leaning up against it, his shoulder near her thigh. They both wear larger than life smiles as the sun beats down on them. It was a silly thing, really. Both stuck in at little forgotten Air Base in middle America for a flight test, but the pair managed to make the best of it, remembering to take photographs as they went.

There is a postcard folded up in Cyclone's wallet. Once upon a time, it read the catchy saying "Why Not Minot?" printed across the front of it, with a cute little photo of a town square, a little forgotten town in North Dakota. It's one of those bases that people dread being stationed at, that much has always been true, but the little photo on the front of the post card sold a different tale. It wasn't the cutesy saying or the photo that made him keep it, the edges now worn and fibrous. On the back, written in neat blue ink, underneath a little blurb about how there is absolutely nothing to do in North Dakota, the sentence "I love you, Pops" sits next to a scribbly little heart.

The staticky, tolling, phoneline picks up after a few rings as Monsoon pushes around a family with one too many screaming toddlers. They have on those little backpack leashes and Monsoon almost gets close lined as a little dark haired child bursts in front of her without warning. She dodged, but she catches one of those damn rolling bags with her toe. Monsoon barely notices the glare the lady sent her way, but the lack luster wrath of a stranger isn't going to stop her.

"Hey, Kid," Cyclone greets over the line, the smile on his face evident through the sound of his voice. There is no need for an official "hello" to begin the conversation, both knowing full well that Cyclone had been watching the flight itinerary like a hawk to make sure Monsoon wasn't going to be delayed. The call upon landing is just expected at this point, though neither of them have mastered the cool,casual, its good to see you.

"I just landed," A woman walks right into one of the duffle bags hanging off of Monsoon's shoulders, throwing her completely off balance. She hikes the bag higher up on her shoulder, trying to rebalance the hefty weight she is carrying. Monsoon sways like she is at sea, attempting to get her balance back. There is something so familiar about the way she sways a bit, just like the jet carriers do as the waves bash against the metal of the hull.

"Fuck" she curses under her breath, steadying herself once again. For a Seaman, one might think Monsoon would have better balance. Cyclone rolls his eyes on the other side of the phone. "I'll be over for dinner tonight, if that's still the plan,"

"Sure is, I'm making your favorite,"

"Steak and potatoes are your favorite," Monsoon corrects.

"You can correct me without the side of guilt, you know," Cyclone is chuckling through the phone, earning him a roll of the eyes.

"I only meant to tease," There is a nonchalance to her voice, though she is the furthest thing from cool. Cyclone isn't either. His kid is coming home and they get to sit down for a meal for the first time in months and he is beyond excited.

"I'm going to drop my stuff off at my rental, then I'll be headed your way, you better be ready for me to eat enough for a small village," Monsoon heads right for the exit, ready to look for a taxi. "And Pops, maybe think about adding a-" The word "vegetable" fails to make it's way out of her mouth as Monsoon looks up as the double doors in front of her slide open. Cyclone is standing on the other side, a large sign reading "WELCOME HOME KIDDO" sits loosely in his hand, the other holds his phone up to his ear.

It's like one of those cheesy scenes from a movie, both wearing matching grins and laughing. Cyclone knew the whole thing would be a surprise; he took a leave day to make sure he would bet there to pick her up.

"Pops!" The name still makes Cyclone's heart swell, even if he had been responding to that very name for the past few years. It's funny, really, how easy it was for the pair to adjust to the name, though Monsoon waited for him to acknowledge it first before she actually said it.

The acknowledgement came from a recorded phone message, shortly after her first move after her Top Gun Graduation. Cyclone got stuck in on the highway with a dead car and no cellphone. The call came in from a payphone, an unknown number. Cyclone left a message, "Hey, kid, it's Pops, my car died and I am stranded. I could use an assist. Do you know anyone in Missouri?". That message is still saved on Monsoon's phone to this day.

"Hey, Kiddo!" And then Monsoon is stumbling closer, her bags swinging her center of gravity all over the place. He reaches a hand out to take one, ready to throw it over his shoulder, but instead, each one hits the pavement with a hard thud. Monsoon is quickly wrapping her arms around his body, one over his shoulder, one under his arm, meeting around his back and squeezing him hard.

The hug is returned in kind, both damn near trying to squeeze each other to death. It's playful, as they share "good to see you's" and "I've missed you's" .

"I hope you don't mind, Kid, but I invited another one of the recruits to dinner tonight," He speaks the words into her hair. Monsoon pulls back to look up at her Pops with furrowed brows. She doesn't have to say a thing, he already knows exactly what is going through her mind.

"I know it's unorthodox, but, Kazansky said it might be a good idea, and when the good Admiral says something like that, you set another place at the table,"

"Yeah, unorthodox is definitely a word for it," Monsoon is pulling out of Cyclone's embrace, dipping to grab her discarded bags from the pavement. Cyclone grabs one before she can, which earns him a roll of her eyes.

"Be nice, would you?"

"To you or the mystery guest?" Her words are dripping with sarcasm.

"Preferably both," Cyclone chides, poking her in the side with the welcome home sign. She swats it away with a quick hand, both laughing.

"I'll see what I can do,"

---

The sun is setting over the horizon, painting the sky orange with wisps of pink the lower it sinks behind the curve of the Earth. Monsoon is spread out on one of the lawn chairs, relaxing, well, more like waiting out her Pops' little outburst. She had opened the grill to check on the steak, making sure the edges wouldn't be too crispy, and Cyclone all but snapped the lid shut in the middle of her investigation. He banished her to the other side of the patio to wait for the food to finish cooking. Then, and only then, would she be allowed to touch the grill again.

If there is one thing to be true, Cyclone has a method when it comes to grilling. Monsoon had it all explained to her the first time he grilled for the pair of them. He has it down to a science, all from the temperature and the kind of charcoal to use, to the length of marinating time and spices to make even the worst cut of meat from the Commissary the most perfect dinner.

And Monsoon couldn't exactly tell him he was wrong. After all, every single thing Beau had ever placed in front of her tasted delicious, delectable even. Not only that, but Monsoon really couldn't have done it better if she tried. Her Pops wouldn't let her try, either, but that is beside the point.

Soon, everything is pulled off the grill and the pair are inside, Monsoon tasked with setting the table. All of the windows are open, the evening breeze cooling the inside of the house. As she places another fork down, Monsoon takes in the way the breeze dances across her skin. Goosebumps threaten to crest over her exposed arms at the chill the air carries. In that moment, she is thankful for the California air, the smell of the freshly made sides sitting in the center of the table, and the fact that she is setting the table in her Pops' house.

It has been too long since the pair got to sit together and share a meal. Cups of coffee over video chat were no where near as nice and Monsoon couldn't lie, she missed Cyclone's cooking. As she sets down the last knife, Cyclone is bounding down the stairs. His causal jeans and t-shirt have been replaced by a nice pair of brown slacks and a cream polo shirt, tucked in with a belt. He's even sporting loafers.

"Hey Pops, there is something I want to talk to you about tonight," Monsoon shouts down the hall. She tries to shake the bit of nerves rumbling through her chest like a handful of loan bees.

"Okay, kiddo," Cyclone calls back as he is rounding the corner into the kitchen, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, promise,"

"Okay," It's a simple response as he walks further into the kitchen. He pats her on the shoulder as he passes, a loving gesture.

"Got a hot date?" Monsoon chides as she looks him up and down. She sets the bundle of flatware down on the table, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No," Cyclone is shaking his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her words. "We are having company tonight, remember?"

"Oh, I remember, but I didn't think some random Lieutenant, that is only coming over because the good Admiral all but ordered him to, was someone worth dressing up for."

There is a shrug of her shoulders as her head sways down nonchalantly. Cyclone crosses his arms, mirroring his kid, with a stern look on his face. It's a look that Monsoon isn't used to seeing out of uniform. Maybe it should worry her, but the vein that would usually protrude from his forehead is nowhere to be seen.

"Remember, kid, you too are just 'some random Lieutenant'" Those words stir a bit of anger within Monsoon, but it dissipates as fast as it came.

"Well then, Admiral Simpson, sir," Monsoon stands up a bit straighter, dropping her hands to her sides, "Let me find something more presentable to wear for the strange man who's crashing out family dinner," She grimaces a bit, but they both laugh. Beau is just laughing, in that way that make's his whole body shake, his eyes scrunched closed while whole hearted giggles escape his lips.

"Go on, kid," He waves in the general direction of the hallway, towards the front of the house where she dropped her bags by the front door.

The zipper of her duffle bag slide open easily, the separation of the teeth vibrating her fingertips. Monsoon fishes out a sun dress and a cropped sweater, something to keep her warmer as the sun sets below the horizon. It's a nice enough combination, something that will surly look like she gives a fuck about her appearance without looking like she planned too much. Monsoon changes out of her sweat shorts and t-shirt in the half bath, emerging looking like a brand new woman, though the feeling  of the plane still lingers on her skin.

Just as she is stuffing her travel clothing back into her bag, the doorbell sounds throughout the house, the bells tolling just a bit too loud.

"Jeez, Pops, could that doorbell be any louder?" Monsoon is yelling just as she reaches for the door. She pulls it open with a swift movement, a smile on her face. Then it falls as soon as she sees who is standing on the other side of the threshold.

Clad in a button down shirt, one with a pattern that would rival any rodeo clown, with one too many buttons undone stands Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw; a man she hasn't seen since a deployment five years ago, about six months after she graduated from Top Gun.

There is a gold chain hanging around his neck. It's just long enough to graze over the tops of his collar bones. His shirt is untucked, the bottom a bit wrinkly, like he has tucked and untucked it a couple of times trying to decide which looked better. He made the wrong choice, by Monsoon's calculation, the patterned shirt covering the top of his dark khakis. He looks a bit silly, really, from the chain down to his boat shoes. The thing that catches her the most off guard though, is the fucking mustache he has decorating, no, vandalizing his upper lip.

Her own mouth hangs open just a bit, her hand tightening it's grip on the door handle. Bradley shoots her that mega wat smile, that million dollar, dentist office poster smile- the one that made her swoon all those years ago. But now, now it makes her fucking angry. Or maybe it's resentment that she feels boiling up inside of her, steaming her insides with a sort of sick feeling that she hasn't felt in years.

The last time this strange, queasy feeling flowed through her she was wrapped up in the white sheets of her mattress on an aircraft carrier, somewhere out in the pacific. Her naked body feeding off of the warmth of spot that Rooster once occupied. When she awoke, there was a feeling of contentment that spread over her skin, until she reached over to find the spot next to her cold.

Their deployment relationship ended with a fucking post it note, "Duty Calls" is all it read, scribbled down in a mess of black ink, the pen itself skipping. Hell, the pen couldn't even bother to work long enough to get a complete message through- their relationship simmered down to nothing more than steamy nights together in a twin size bunk while the ocean waves rocked against the carrier.

The contentment drained from Monsoon faster than than the anger could take over, and for a moment there was nothingness in the spaces between her ribs.

And now, Bradley fucking Bradshaw is standing on her Pops' front porch, smiling at her like nothing has ever happened between them, holding a bottle of wine, and somehow she is just supposed to let him in!

"Hello," He scratches at the back of his neck, his brows pinched together just the slightest bit. "Is this Admiral Simpson's house?"

Words are caught in the back of Monsoon's throat, each individual letter sticking her in the esophagus. Monsoon stands there looking at Bradley, each growing a bit more uncomfortable as the seconds go by. But, she is on the inside of the doorjamb, she has the upper hand. Just as she goes to slam the door in his fucking ugly mustache, Cyclone catches the door.

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Beau booms, his tone friendly as he sends Monsoon a what the fuck look. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, though it does nothing to relieve the rapidly growing headache that's taking over her skull.

"Come in, come in!" Cyclone practically ushers Bradley into the house. "This is my daughter, Y/N Mitchell, she is in the new Top Gun class as well!"

Beau is doing his best to defuse the tension in the room, between Monsoon's anger, and Bradley's overall discomfort from being in an Admiral's house, the vibes are askew. Bradley crinkles his brows at the information and Beau quickly jumps in with a chuckle, "No relation, but I claim her anyway. Introduce yourself, Son,"

"Brad-"

"We already know each other,"

The pair speak at the same time. Monsoon's tone is full of distain, like the words taste bitter and unforgiving on her tongue. She pushes past Bradley's outstretched hand and past Cyclone. Bradley can't help the fact that his face twists up in confusion as he wracks his brain trying to figure out where exactly he knew her. 

The woman's definitely too upset to be a recent fling- hell, Bradley hasn't even managed to bring a girl back to his place in such a long time. Deployment really limited his prospects and she sure wasn't on the mission he just finished. 

"Please, this way," Cyclone guides Bradley back to the kitchen, taking the bottle of wine from the younger man. They follow the path Monsoon took, down the hall and back to the large kitchen. She is standing at the sink, her hands braced on the counter top.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Bradshaw. If you'll excuse me, I have to speak with my daughter for a second." Cyclone is moving before Bradley can acknowledge him. So, Bradley pretends to be very interested in the view just outside the kitchen window.

"What the hell, kid?" Cyclone carefully grabs Monsoon's elbow, leaning in just a little bit closer to fake some sort of privacy. He sets the bottle of wine on the counter. With all the tension blooming in the air around them, Cyclone decides alcohol is the last thing they need. 

"It's complicated, Pops, just leave it be, okay?" Monsoon is running a hand through her hair, a shallow attempt to ground herself. "I can play nice for one dinner,"

"What the hell happened between you two? And it's not just one dinner, it's the next few weeks."

That fact is met with a grumble from Monsoon. It took her only a few seconds to convince herself that she would be able to make it though a dinner, but the idea of having to see Bradley fucking Bradshaw every day for the foreseeable future had a mixture of nausea and frustration swirling through her. 

"Pops, trust me, this really isn't something you are going to want to hear about, nor do I feel like discussing it in your kitchen, at a whisper, while the man who doesn't even seem to fucking remember me is only a few feet away! No thank you," Monsoon pushes past Cyclone once more, picking up the bowl of salad from the kitchen island and bringing it over to the table. Cyclone is hot on her tail, speaking lowly after her.

"Y/N" That gets her to stop, Beau never uses her first name, "We are not finished discussing this,"

"After supper then," The words leave her tongue sharp, but they are met with a nod of approval. Then Cyclone is moving, ready for the night to move on as planned. 

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Cyclone is turning his attention back to their guest, a makeshift smile plastered to his face, "Please, take a seat, I am just going to grab the food off the grill,"

And then Cyclone is disappearing out the back door, leaving Monsoon and Rooster alone, the room already threatening to burst from the rapidly accumulating tension. Monsoon chances a look at Bradley as she finished setting out the flatware that had been left abandoned earlier, suddenly a little bit glad that her Pops hinted at her to change clothes. She looks good, that much she knows, if only it mattered at this point.

Maybe, if it mattered, Bradley would look at her and realize just how much he walked out on. Maybe he would see the way Cyclone cares for her, and their little family that they've created and know that he threw away his chance to be apart of it. If only he could see just how happy she is now- yet he doesn't even fucking recognize her, and that makes her heart burn like cheap kerosene. It's like gulping down saltwater, the feeling of being forgotten, drowning right out in the open for everyone to see.

As Monsoon is drowning in thoughts of Bradley, he is just trying to remember her.

Bradley takes in the slope of her nose and the freckles that are smattered across her legs. His eyes wander over the frizzy bits of her hair, down the line of her shoulder and ending at the tips of her fingers. The way that she glances at him, her face still turned down as she adjusts the table settings, strikes him as familiar- but in a far off sense of the word. Familiar in the way his own face is reminiscent of his father's. 

His father, Goose, and Maverick... Pete Mitchell... Mitchell!

"Mitchell?" Bradley breaks the silence, his gaze  a bit wider, still locked on her downturned face. Monsoon's eyes shoot up at the name, locking with his dark brown eyes. They bore into her the same way they always had and a part of her aches. 

"Are you-" The breath he sucks into his lungs burns a bit with hazy memory, "Are you Pete Michell's kid?"

An audible, pained groan leaves Monsoon's throat at the question. 

"Not anymore," Are the only words she can manage, the flames of anger licking at her legs.

"But you were, once?" There is almost a ribbon of hope laces somewhere in his tone, but Monsoon pays it no mind. She walks away from the table, keeping her back to Bradley as she attempts to calm the heat of rage that's licking at her legs. 

Why couldn't Bradley just ask her about normal things? Why aren't they talking about work, their partners, their friends. Hell, he could hit on her at this point and it would go over better. 

If he wanted to talk about Maverick- Pete Michell, there were countless times when they were tangled up together in blankets, in the dark save for the crack of light breaking into the room from under the doorway.

He could have asked as they scurried up the stairs of the carrier, their gear smacking against their chests as they ran. Bradley could have asked then, as they bounded out into the early morning, salt soaked air.

Hell, Bradley could have asked over coms, high in the air as the wind whistled past their wings. They were just test flights after all, no enemy to contend with. He could have asked her then.

But he didn't.

"That was a very long time ago," She's turning to the fridge, pulling a pitcher of lemonade out. The sigh that leaves her lips is nothing but tension attempting to escape from the confines of her chest. It doesn't work, and Bradley doesn't catch the hint to just shut the fuck up and leave it be.

"We knew each other, right? When we were kids?" The question catches Monsoon off guard, almost as much as his initial presence did. She wants to laugh, really she does, at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

He didn't remember that fact when they met on the carrier five years ago, and Monsoon tried not to let that bother her, especially when he was buried inside of her, moaning filthy things into her ear. But now? Now he remembers. But somewhere, the memory of their torrid love affair escapes the great mind of Bradley Bradshaw.

"Oh, for fucks sake,"

Though the whole thing is laughable; Bradley isn't laughing. He's holding his breath, too caught up in the scene in front of him, in the soreness of his chest and the way his heart thrums against the backside of his ribcage. 

Fuck how his chest aches. 

There is this part of his past, this piece that he once knew like the back of his hand, that's just in reach now- again, and Monsoon is laughing at him. The memory of her was erased with the sounding of artillery, the three volley's fired into the air. And now, he craves this memory like he craves the memory of his father, the pieces of his innocence having crumbling into his hands like ash.

It still stains his hands that sickly blackish gray, gritty against his skin, though he is the only one that can see it.

The sliding door opens once more and Cyclone is slipping though, holding a large platter of steak in his hand, the meat is grilled to perfection and he looks proud. Bradley looks at Monsoon with furrowed brows, questioning the words that she let slip past her lips. Cyclone steps between them, setting the plate of meat down on to the dinner table, more than enough food to go around.

"Please, Y/N, come and join us," Cyclone is pulling out a seat right next to Bradley, offering it to her. Reluctantly, she pads over, taking a seat next to Bradley who can't seem to take his eyes off of her face. He runs his hands up and down his pant legs, more out of anxiety than anything else. Cyclone takes a seat across from the pair, a tight smile on his face. 

In any other world, it may look like a child introducing their significant other to their father, the way the tension hangs in the air between the trio. Cyclone awkwardly dishes himself servings of the food before passing it to Monsoon, who does the same before placing it down next to her, leaving Bradley to fend for himself. It's petty, that's true, but to Monsoon, it's a small act of defiance. A small fuck you for not remembering her, or the nights they spent together.

The Admiral knows something is going on right under his nose, just out of his understanding. He can see it in the way Monsoon shifts awkwardly in her seat while Bradley's gaze gets overly friendly with the plate in front of him. There's a question on the tip of his tongue, "kid, is Bradley your boyfriend?" but he knows better than to ask it. As he observes longer, he takes in the way his daughter tilts her shoulders just a little further away from Bradley, the arm closest to him resting elbow down on the table. The moment Cyclone notices the unpassed dishes sitting between the pair, he just knows. 

"So," Cyclone clears his throat, "Are you two excited to be back at Top Gun?"

It's a reasonable question, very middle of the road. Monsoon opens her mouth to answer, but Bradley beats her to it.

"Yes, sir. It's good to be back stateside. Hell, it's good to be back on solid ground. I've been stuck on a carrier for the past nine months and I was beginning to lose my mind!" He's chuckling now, and Beau joins in right along side him, the deep chuckles of the men filling the air. "But you know how it can get on the carriers. It's hard to pass the time, no going to the bar with friends, no dating,"

Then, Monsoon's fork hits her plate with a metallic clank against the glass. No dating, yeah, right. Out of all of the things Monsoon pegged Bradley to be, a liar was not one of them, but then again not much could surprise her after the way he left. 

"How about you, kid?"

"To be determined, Pops," The answer is genuine, spoken through grit teeth. 

Maybe she shouldn't be so upset with Bradley's lack of remembrance for her. After all, it's not always the wrong time with the right person. Or the wrong place. Sometimes it's wrong, maybe he just didn't like her that much- more a deployment fling to get him through the lonely nights than a future. 

"Well, I am excited you're back," Cyclone returns her direction, but Monsoon just shoves a fork full of salad into her mouth.

"Sir, can I ask what exactly they called us back for? And are there more of us?" Bradley asks between bites, his fork and knife busy against his plate.

"I am not obliged to share much, but I can tell you that fifteen of you have been called back, from varying Top Gun classes." The explanation leaves something to be desired, but both recruits are nodding on the other side of the table. Bradley eats another bite of steak, complimenting Cyclone on his grilling; Monsoon is just pushing the food around on her plate with the tines of her fork. It's easier than finding the appetite that was lost somewhere between the front door and the kitchen after Bradley's arrival.

"Are you teaching us this go around, Pops?" Monsoon's question is spoken quietly, in the middle of Bradley's sentence about his own grilling technique- there is no remorse for the interruption.

At her words, Cyclone visibly stiffens, his fork stilling on his plate. Then he's setting it down, eyes still locked with his plate. With a huff and a lick of his lips he looks across the table, met with two pairs of curious eyes. He knew this was going to be hard, but he didn't expect it to be quite like this. 

"No, I'm not teaching," Cyclone takes another breathe, unsure who to make eye contact with, knowing the words he's about to say are not going to be received well, by either one of them. "We- Top Gun has decided to bring in-"

The doorbell is ringing loudly through the house, startling Cyclone in his seat. It breaks though the tension like a fucking bullet, the whole thing blasting apart on impact. The trio trade glances that last milliseconds, like someone just knows whos going to be standing on the other side of that door.

"I'll get it, Pops," Monsoon is already pushing out of her seat, placing her napkin next to her plate. She is a bit too eager to get away from the tension surrounding that table, not only from her question but from the way Bradley is basically staring out of the corner of his eye. Though she can't exactly see it happening, she can feel it- the way his eyes are boring into the side of her head, almost burning. She will take anyone being on the other side of that door if it means she doesn't have to sit in Bradley's swimming gaze any longer. 

"No, you stay, I'll get it," Cyclone corrects, "You stay and chat,"

Then, Cyclone is pushing away from the table, heading right for the front door. He gives his daughter no time to protest. Cyclone leaves the slowly rebuilding tension behind him, and Monsoon is stuck having to sit back down, next to Bradley, left to simmer in it.

"We did know each other, right?" Bradley is quick to ask the moment Cyclone rounds the corner. It's a speed he's not used to- too used to sitting and waiting for the perfect timing that just doesn't come. But this isn't something he's willing to wait on, it's just something he has to know.

"Yes, Bradley, we knew each other. But that was a long time ago," Monsoon is shrugging, avoiding his eyes. The words should have hit him harder, from the way they all but flew from her lips, but the impact is almost gentle, like the comfort of them bore the brunt of it all.

"Do you remember my father?" The question is so innocent that it almost hurts; and Monsoon knows just how much throbbing pain there is inside Bradley. After one drunken night while on the carrier, he poured his heart out about his father, about how much he missed him and how he wished- hoped that Goose would have been proud of him. Monsoon sat and listened the to the whole thing, through the tears and drunken hiccups, reassuring Bradley that Goose would be proud of him.

After all, she knewhim, even if that was a million years ago- even if Bradley didn't know it.

She knows he would have been, because Goose was a good man.

A trait that seemed to have skipped over Bradley.

Good men remember their lovers. They remember their old friends. They remember the people who showed up to their mother's funeral- and have the decency to show up to their friends' mother's funeral.  

Good men don't leave women in the dead of night, a break up message scrawled on a sticky note. They don't leave their friends to grieve alone. They don't forget. 

"Yes, I remember him," Monsoon chances a glance at Bradley, unintentionally meeting his eyes. God, he's looking at her like she holds the fucking secrets to the universe and all she can feel is a sort of twisted up sickness, like her sternum is bound together with poisoned ropes. Bradley can see the stars that cling to her fingertips, the secrets to the cosmos, but can't seem to find the words to beg for their translation.

Cyclone is walking back into the room a second later, accompanied by another set of footsteps. Neither Monsoon nor Bradley look up when they walk in, both too busy staring at each other. Bradley looks curious, Monsoon looks hurt. 

She looks away first. 

A tall blond walks in behind Cyclone, his gaze focused on a set of files in his hand. He's reading over the top file carefully, running his free hand through his cropped hair. There is a toothpick in his mouth, resting between his teeth. Dressed in his tan uniform, his biceps are straining against the cuffs.

He's a Stetson model type, clean cut and masculine. The line of his jaw accentuated by the clean lines of his uniform. His jaw ticks with frustration as his brows furrow at the paperwork. There appears to be a word on the tip of his tongue by the way the toothpick bobs between his plump lips.

"Hey, guys, sorry for that, this is-" Cyclone swings his hand, introduction interrupted by twin gasps.

"Jake?!"

"Hangman?"

Hangman isn't sure who to look at first, but his eyes meet Bradley's form first, his eyebrows knitting together at the familiar face before shooting to his hairline when his eyes land on Monsoon sitting next to Bradley.

"Y/N, Doll! What are you doing here?"

Cyclone is whipping his head around in the way he might flip a jet. And Monsoon is pushing out of her chair again, ready to round the table and throw herself into the arms of the strong, blond man who just walked in, but her eyes meet the bewildered look on Cyclone's face, causing her to halt her movements. Hangman sets the paperwork down on the kitchen island, his eyes still locked on Monsoon, that damn smirk of his playing on his lips. Monsoon can tell he is holding himself back, fully aware of exactly who's house he is standing in, and the relationship between Monsoon and the Admiral.

It's been months since they've seen each other. Their goodbyes were said on the front porch of his little rental outside of Lake Hurst. Neither of them relished being in New Jersey, but they had each other and that's all that had mattered. They fostered a brand new relationship over a year, neither of them brave enough to label the nights spent together in that house. 

Then new orders came down the pipeline, on a TS Need-To-Know. The pair were being separated with the flick of a pen. So, they labelled their year long relationship through tears standing on his stoop, the night the orders came down the channel. 

They packed Jake's small house, and Monsoon's apartment, neither one knowing just what was to come. In the name of a temporary duty station, they got storage units next to each other, the closest thing to living together they'd be able to swing. 

That was six months ago. 

Monsoon did a little time in Pensacola while Jake got sent to Oak Harbor. Thousands of miles apart, their dates turned from late night dinners to quick conversations over the phone just to hear the other's voice. 

Neither of them expected their reunion to be here, in Admiral Simpson's kitchen, with Bradley Bradshaw and the Admiral watching the whole thing, confused expressions written into their features. 

"I got recalled to Top Gun!" Monsoon giggles a bit, her gaze still trapped with Hangman's.

"Me too!" The words leave Jake's lips and the pair are smiling. It's taking everything for them to hold themselves back from embracing each other, after months apart. Then, Cyclone is clearing his throat.

"Pops," Monsoon begins, clasping her hands in front of her, "God, this is weird. Remember earlier this evening when I said I wanted to talk to you about something?"

She had fully been intending on telling her Cyclone about her relationship with Hangman, in fact, she had been working up the courage for the past few weeks. But, Jake comes with a record, a reputation, and a respect problem, things Monsoon knows her Pops won't approve of. 

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" The words are leaving Cyclone's lips almost too quick, but Monsoon is quick to reassure him that it is.

"Well, this isn't exactly how I saw this going, but, Pops, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Jake Seresin," Monsoon is gesturing to Jake now, a worried smile on her face. The pair know each other, of course they do. They had met the first time Hangman went through Top Gun. Cyclone was on instructor duty and Hangman didn't take overly well to being instructed; though he did finish top of his class. 

Monsoon bobs up and down on the balls of her feet, the nervous energy flowing through her body. If she could push all the energy out of her and into the floor she would. Her soles grounding the electric current flowing through her, unapologetic and lightning hot. Monsoon would stand there in front of the three men who have played such a large roll in her life, back straight and eyes forward like the Navy trained her to do, if only she could coral that fucking energy and send it straight through the floor.

Monsoon bounces instead.

If she had the time, she could have prevented the look that crosses Cyclone's face. That look of you're not good enough for my kid that is so evident on his features. She knows that Jake saw it, clear as day from the way he almost winces. Everyone in that room knows the reputation that Hangman wears like a neon sign. The "voted biggest player" social life with the stellar callsign, the pilot known for leaving his wingman hanging, acting alone- selfish.

So much for putting off telling Cyclone; so much for easing him into the news. 

Bradley is watching the whole exchange from his seat with his eyebrows raised, like a fucking soap opera but the whole spectacle's happening in real time. He lets his eyes shift from person to person, taking it all in. Monsoon looks hopeful, though she is waiting with baited breath for her Pops to blow a fucking gasket. Jake, on the other hand, looks absolutely cool. Though he is the reason for the interruption, and for the impromptu introduction, he is impossibly collected. Then, Bradley's eyes shift to Cyclone, who has backed up a few steps. He keeps looking between Monsoon and Hangman, like he is playing some sort of invisible game of connect the dots.

Hangman and his fucking reputation are courting his daughter, and Cyclone really isn't thrilled about the news. 

Though Bradley isn't exactly thrilled to see Hangman here either, he's taking the whole thing in stride, as opposed to Cyclone, but the younger man can't exactly blame him. If it were Bradley getting this major bomb dropped on him, he wouldn't be sitting pretty, either. Bradley is bringing his glass up to his lips, his eyes still flashing between the trio.

"Monsoon-" Cyclone starts, but the sound of coughing interrupts. Bradley is coughing, choking on his water. He attempts to wave a hand, letting everyone know he's okay, but in reality, he's far from it.

Monsoon. The woman he left asleep in her bunk five years ago stands next to him now, and not only that, they fucking grew up together, at least for a little while. And she remembers his Dad, and she's Maverick's kid. And fuck, she's dating Hangman!

Things are moving just a bit too fast, and Bradley can't quite catch his breath between coughing fits. 

The glass is quickly set back onto the kitchen table, but is sent over the edge as Bradley reaches for a napkin. The glass falls in faux slow motion, the liquid flowing from the cup as it hits the hardwood, shattering like a pinprick galaxy upon the floor. Bradley, still coughing, searches the new formation of cosmos on the floor for the answer to all the mixed up bullshit he has found himself in.

"Rooster?" Monsoon pats him harshly on the back, right between his shoulder blades. Then, she is rubbing his back, her hand full of warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt. His skin burns under her touch as he struggles to return his breathing to normal. There's still a knot in the back of his throat made of unsaid words and new revelations that he can't seem to swallow down. 

"Rooster, are you okay?"

Hangman and Cyclone are quick to circle around the table, Hangman taking a knee next to Monsoon, his hand quickly finding her lower back. Cyclone is on the other side of Bradley, the glass crunching under his expensive leather loafers. Bradley is red from all the coughing, but an embarrassed blush still floods his skin from all the attention.

"Mons?" The nickname comes out all scratchy as Rooster wipes a newly formed tears from his eyes. The concerned expression morphs to hold a bit of shock before settling on some sort of mix of frustration and downright sadness. Monsoon tries to school her expression but her eyes still swim with emotion as they are locked with Bradley's.

"Yeah, Roos," Monsoon shoots his nickname right back, a confirmation that all but shakes the world around Bradley. She brings a tender hand up to squeeze his shoulder before pulling back, subconsciously leaning closer to Hangman, into the warmth of his hand on her back. She finds safety in her boyfriend's touch, the warmth of his skin pooling against her through the fabric of her dress. 

The lack of contact makes Rooster feel cold, but the feeling is short lived as Cyclone is grasping at his other shoulder. A swivel of his head and Bradley is met with the furrowed brows of the Admiral.

"Are you okay, Mr. Bradshaw?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley responds, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "I'm so sorry about the glass, please, let me clean it up,"

As Rooster stands, he is pushed back down gently by Cyclone, his hand still on the younger man's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it, please," And so Bradley is sitting again, in the center of the standing trio, feeling completely out of place. "As for the two of you, take a seat, we have some things to discuss,"

The sound of chairs being pulled out against the hard wood floor is accompanied by the intense ringing of the doorbell once again. The group look from person to person, once again looking for any clue as to who could be at the front door this time. Cyclone is padding over to the door, the crunching of glass less evident the further away her gets.

Bradley attempts to clear the lump in his throat, now without the luxury of his glass of water. Monsoon takes her untouched glass and slides it closer to Bradley, a barely there smile on her face. Her expression holds more sympathy than anything. Bradley takes the glass with both hands, a little too careful as he brings it up to his lips. 

"Let me get you a plate, okay?" Monsoon speaks to Hangman, her smile clearly wider, brighter, more full of life when it's directed his way. "Pops will give me so much grief if he comes back and that spot isn't set,"

So, Monsoon excuses herself from the table, leaving the men sitting in apprehensive silence. 

With a strong tug from Cyclone, door swings open and there is no time for a 'hello' as the man on the other side is pushing in, a wild look in his eye, a vein on his forehead bulging with frustration.

"We need to talk Simpson," The tone holds misplaced authority. Beau runs cold at the sight of Pete "Maverick" fucking Michell standing in his entryway, looking pissed off enough to catch a charge.

"That's Admiral Simpson to you Captain," Cyclone's teeth are grit so hard they might crack under the pressure of his jaw. "You cannot be here right now,"

The raised hand does nothing to stop Maverick from pushing further into the house. There's a folder in his hand, wrinkling under the closing of his fist. Sweat clings to the Admiral's brow, a vision of the crown of thorns, droplets running down the side of his face. It might as well have been blood from the way his stomach twists as Maverick steps closer to him, pushing the paperwork, right against the center of his chest.

"Do you know who got recruited for this mission, huh?" The words are dripping with venom, "Do you realize who you've chosen for this fucking death wish of a goddamn mission?"

Captain Michell's tone is all accusatory and full fury. He's pushing into Cyclone's chest harder, his knuckles white under the pressure. Cyclone grabs at the older man's wrist, his own knuckles paling as he squeezes.

"Captain, I will not repeat myself, you cannot be here,"

"Who is it, Pops?" Monsoon is calling from around the corner, her voice full of curiosity. Cyclone isn't a praying man, especially after what happened with June and their sweet baby boy, but now Cyclone is praying to every god, every deity that crosses his mind, even those who's names he cannot recall, that his daughter will not walk around the corner to see Pete Mitchell standing in his entry way.

"Nobody, kid, I'll be there in just a moment," He calls before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. He tightens his grip on Pete's wrist before he's wrenching it away from his chest. He pushes it back into Pete's own chest, leaning in close, "My daughter is not to see you here, leave. Now."

One might think Maverick would get the hint, since he pulls his hand from Cyclones grip. But then, Maverick is throwing open the file, pointing at the first page's photo. There is so much frustration in the action, it bounces between the two men like they're sounding boards, building and building.

"See this? Jake "Hangman" Seresin? You really want to send somebody in the sky who has a pension for leaving their wingman? You want to send someone into the air with a guy like him when the mission is already guaranteeing a loss of life?" 

That catches the attention of the trio in the other room. All motion stills as they strain to hear more. 

Wide mouthed, pointed tongue, Maverick is yelling without a care in the world. It doesn't matter who hears as long as Cyclone is hearing it too.

"And how about this," The paper tears as Maverick turns the page, "Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. You know about his father. You damn well know about Goose and you want to send his son to an early grave too?"

Jaws tick, fists tighten. Cyclone breathes deeply, thinking- choosing his words carefully as the older man continues to scream. It's not beautiful or noble like books would describe. There is no gift from God, no blessing, no one anointed with the ability to see into the future, to see just how this is going to play out. Instead, it's just words exchanged between mortal men, both too damn stubborn to back down with knives to each other's throats.

"And check out these two," Maverick is laughing now, leaning in closer to Cyclone, his breathe reeking of whiskey. Cyclone can see the way Maverick's eyes are bloodshot and weepy as he pushes him back. Sweat coats his skin leaving him clammy to the touch. 

"Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Robert "Bob" Floyd," Another strangled laugh escapes Captain Mitchell, "You really think this scrawny kid and a woman are up to the task at hand? Really? I can think of at least five better pilots and Wizzos who are better qualified than these two. And look! She's the pilot! Hell, I don't even know how they made it through Top Gun the first time around! The fucking Navy is getting soft."

"It's time for you to go, Captain Mitchell. Sober up. We will discuss this on Monday," Cyclone puts a hand to the older man's shoulder, attempting to usher him out without too much force. Cyclone can't risk Maverick being in his house any longer. He has already been gone too long and his guests are likely getting curious. "Time to go, Pete,"

"But, Cyclone, you haven't even heard the best part," Maverick can barely get the words out through drunken laughter. He's turning the page with clumsy fingers, the paper tearing under his touch.

The trio, Rooster, Monsoon, and Hangman round the corner as Cyclone is attempting to usher Maverick out the front door. They watch as the Maverick stumbles out of Cyclone's grip and further into the house.

"Pops?" Monsoon speaks as the strange man hits the floor, laughing as he does. The file has fallen open, scattering pictures of the newest Top Gun brain child called The Dagger Squad. They sit scattered all over the entry way like freshly fallen snow. Her eyes go to the paper that falls near her feet. 

"Well if it isn't the prodigal child," Maverick speaks, pushing himself further off the floor. "How many strings did you have to pull to get your own daughter onto the squad? Are you trying to send this kid to an early grave like the last one?"

The three Daggers stand speechless. Monsoon is quickly folded under Hangman's arm, her face pressed into his chest. Rooster stands just off to the side of them, his eyes flashing to Monsoon. 

The arguing doesn't stop.

"Shut your mouth," Cyclone spits, "You don't know a goddamn thing,"

Maverick stumbles to his feet, standing up at straight as possible to get into Cyclone's face, just to taunt the younger man.

"See, Admiral, that's not true, now is it? You and I both know that she isn't actually yours and this would be an easy way to get rid of her, right? Send her back to-"

His words are met with a swift punch to the face, the cartilage of his nose crunching under Cyclone's knuckles. The punch feels good, like it had been coming for a long, long time. Like it had been building within Beau Simpson for years, every single time Maverick missed out on a celebration of the amazing life Monsoon is leading. For every birthday, every graduation, every reenlistment and promotion ceremony, Maverick missed it all, and the rage built inside Cyclone. Now, it finally came out, popped like a Champaign cork, blood instead of the fizzy alcohol dotting itself over Cyclone's entryway.

A warm hand slips into Monsoon's; Bradley stepped closer, clutching onto her. He recognized Pete Mitchell the moment he got a clear view, both his anger and anxiety flaring. Bradley squeezed her hand once, nice and strong, before dropping it once more, stepping in front of her and Hangman.

"Captain Mitchell," Bradley begins, his voice firm, full of hurt.

The words make Monsoon's head spin. She leans away from her boyfriend's chest to get a better look at the bloody faced man and it sends a chill down her spine. Her Dad who she hasn't seen in years is now standing in a room full of people who can't fucking stand his existence. It's a fucking miracle that all he has is a bloody nose.

"Bradley," Pete spits a little bit of blood as he speaks, looking up at the younger man. He reaches a hand out, but it's dodged. "It's good to see you, son,"

"I'm not your son. It's time for you to go," Bradley is ready to grab Pete Mitchell by the collar and haul him out of the house. He's ready to throw him onto the lawn and leave him there to spit blood and sober up enough until he can walk himself home. Bradley has his own selfish reasons, his own grudge against the Captain, and now would be as good a time as any to feed into that frustration that he's been stewing in for years.

"I'm calling Admiral Kazansky," Cyclone declares to the room, then he's spinning on his heel the moment Bradley takes a step closer, clearly putting himself between Maverick and Monsoon.

The Admiral is ordering Hangman to move, to take his daughter anywhere else so that she doesn't have to see any more of the disaster that the night has turned out to be. He doesn't want her to see him throw Maverick out- hell, he didn't want her to see him punch the older man, but there's no going back in time. 

As much as Cyclone wishes he could have protected her from this, he couldn't. One can't stop a speeding bullet, as they say, and the shot had already been fired the moment he pulled open the front door. And as much as he doesn't want to, Cyclone has to trust Hangman with his daughter, he just has to, now. 

So, Hangman is all but carrying Monsoon away as she fights to stay put. She misses the order from her Pops, her blood thrumming too loudly through her ears. Hangman takes her through the house, dodging the pile of glass still glittering on the hardwood in the kitchen, hauling her out the backdoor and right to his truck. Monsoon flights the whole time, though it's unclear as to her reason to want to say behind.

The pair are pulling away from the house as Bradley and Beau are hauling Maverick out to the front lawn, his nose still pouring blood.

Jake drives in the direction of his apartment, holding onto her hand the whole time. He squeezes it reassuringly though there isn't much he can assure her of at the moment. Neither of them know what's going to come of Maverick, or of Cyclone's heated action against him. They don't know if Bradley is going to get caught in the crossfire, or if they are going to get called into the MP's office sometime in the middle of the night.

There is no clear answer, so, Hangman squeezes her hand and drives.

And drives.

And drives.

As far away as he can get from that house, that situation, the feeling in his chest spurred on by the broken look in Monsoon's eyes.

He drives until the sun crests over the horizon. Pulling off onto the side of the highway, Hangman kills the headlights, the world around them just beginning to come to life. That's when the tears come, falling fast and hard from the pools of Monsoon's eyes. Hangman just holds her there, inside of the truck.

The world around them awakens as Monsoon's falls apart, crumbling like unquenched Earth between her fingers. Maybe that's what the whole situation is, after all, how many times have the great authors related relationships to gardens, to plants, to life. Without nurture, without care and tending, the soil dries out, the plants die. The whole garden becoming a wasteland for the decaying plant matter; the soil turning to clay as the days roll on.

But isn't decay an unescapable fact of life?

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. Two weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad.

Hangman had completely expected to pretend like the whole fight at the Admiral's house didn't happen when he met up with the other recruits at the bar, save for Monsoon. He took a little too much joy ordering drinks for the team on Maverick's tab- the older man not seeming to remember him from the incident, even after Hangman sent him a wink and a "thanks, Pops,".

When Bradley strutted in like the world was full of golden promise, Hangman took it upon himself to act like it was the first time they had seen each other in years. Bradshaw was quick to get the memo: last week didn't happen.

There's no surprise that Maverick got thrown out of the Hard Deck that night, either. Hangman sure as hell wasn't expecting to be the one to throw Maverick out of the bar, but that part gave him a sense of pride that he can't quite put words to.

The feeling bloomed in his chest as he watched Maverick hit the sand. A wide smile spread across his face as he yelled for him to "come back anytime," if that meant getting more free alcohol and the chance to throw him out again. Then, as Hangman closed the doors behind him while Rooster began one hell of a rendition of "Great Balls of Fire", everything felt like it was going to be okay.

Oh boy, how wrong he was.

Tensions are high now, Hangman and Rooster's rivalry is back and stronger than ever. They have been at each other's throats since that night at the Hard Deck, though the reason wasn't the mission or the usual dick measuring contest, even if the other recruits would say that it is.

They have been battling it out over a woman. Monsoon, specifically. The team doesn't know about her involvement with Hangman, and the pair try and keep it that way. So, she sits in the back of the classroom, right behind Yale and does her best to pay attention. The mission seems more impossible by the minute, the deadline has been moved up, and nobody has been successful.

Rooster and Maverick argue about the plane vs the pilot and how he had been the only one to make it to the target, though it was a minute late.

Then, Hangman opens his fucking mouth, living up to that reputation of his. "It's no time to be thinking about the past,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rooster's expression is unreadable, though his brows twitch.

"I can't be the only one that knows Maverick flew with his old man!" Hangman continues through Maverick's pleas, "Or that he was the one flying when-"

Rooster is out of his seat in a matter of seconds, launching himself at his fellow Lieutenant. Hangman took it too far this time. Rooster gets one good push in before the rest of the squad are separating the two hot headed men from each other, everyone yelling for the fighting to stop.

Everyone but Monsoon, who sits in the back staring at the fight in front of her and can't seem to make herself move.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Hey, hey, I'm cool, I'm cool," Hangman reassures, pulling out of the arms of his teammates.

"He's not cut out for this mission, you know it... You know I'm right." He gets up into Bradley's face, a fucking smirk on his lips. The others are still holding Bradley back as he calms down, but it's that fucking smirk that spurs him on.

Bob's hands slip from Rooster's shoulders as he gets into Hangman's face. "You think you can talk shit about my family when it's your girl that's got the most fucked up situation of all," Bradley keeps his eyes trained on Hangman, but the blonde's eyes tick to the side, in the direction of Monsoon, who is still in her seat. It's Bob who notices the way Hangman's eyes shift, and he's the first person to look in Monsoon's direction. Then, Bob's nudging Phoenix. 

They watch as Monsoon tenses in her seat, her jaw ticking. Her hands grip the arms of her chair, knuckles white. Then, Bob and Phoenix turn their attention back to the men as the screaming match continues. 

"I'm not the one who broke up with her on a goddamn post-it note, Rooster," Hangman points out with a raise of his brows, that stupid little smirk still evident on his lips. Rooster is bringing his hands up to his temples, his expression scrunched.

"You son of a bitch," Rooster is cursing at him through grit teeth, his voice low.

The crowd of Aviators are still gathered around the two men watching them fight, Maverick's eyes flicking between them as words are exchanged. His mind flashes back to two weeks ago, when he broke down the Admiral's door and saw them standing there with Cyclone. He suddenly flashes his eyes back to Monsoon, only to be met with her piercing glare.

"What? Was taking her father for yourself not good enough for you? Did you have to break her heart too?" Hangman questions, watching as Bradley's face contorts, "You're just pissed because not only could you not keep your shit Rio of a father around, you couldn't keep the girl, either,"

"That's enough!" Monsoon shouts, her eyes finally leaving Maverick. The Daggers' eyes are locked on Monsoon at the back of the makeshift classroom, anger evident on her features. Then, with her hands firmly planted on the table in front of her, she is pushing up from her seat.

"Seresin," Monsoon begins, turning her eyes to him, "First, you will not speak about my uncle that way. Goose was a good man and a damn good Rio. Uncle Nicky would have moved the fucking Earth for Bradley, or for Maverick, or for me and my Mama, don't you dare think anything different."

Monsoon is moving closer to the group now, taking each step slowly, methodical as her words. There is a large, yellow envelope tucked under her arm as she approaches. She had been sitting with that envelope since their first class, no one having even the slightest idea what's tucked inside.

"Secondly, Rooster, my relationship with Jake is not your business, not now, not ever. What we had was over the moment you wrote that post-it and walked out the door. You didn't even remember the fact that we grew up together, for fucks sake. I get it, I was your little deployment fling, and that's all. Now, you get to live with the fact that's all I'll ever be. Hangman put you in your place, now say in it."

The crowd is too stunned to speak, but there is a rumble of laughter that escapes Maverick. He doesn't even try to hide it, thinking the tension in the air would be enough to cover it. But then, Monsoon is turning her pointed gaze to him.

"Finally, Captain Mitchell," There is a sick little smirk on her lips as she says his name, "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. After all, Bradley had to get his pension for forgetting women from somebody."

Monsoon is standing toe to toe with Maverick now, eyes locked in on his, "After all, I've been in this class for what, two weeks, and I know you have had the roster for longer than that, considering that little stunt you pulled at my Pop's house. You think it's funny to forget someone when your own flesh and blood is standing right in front of you?"

Maverick furrows his brow, head cocking to the side. Monsoon can practically see the gears turning in his head with the way his eyes move across her features. She breathes deeply a couple of times, letting his mind piece the puzzle together.

"I asked you a question, but go ahead, take your time," Monsoon leans in just a fraction further, "After all, I'm told I look more like my mother, anyway," Wide eyes from the man in front of her stir out a strangled giggle from her chest.

"Wha- bu-" Maverick flounders, his mouth opening and closing, no words forming on his lips.

"Hi, Dad," The name is said with so much venom as she pushes the envelope against his chest with enough force to make him stumble. Monsoon doesn't wait for him to recover before she is turning to walk down the aisle of the makeshift classroom, paying no attention to the stares, the eyes burning holes into the back of her head. Instead she focuses on the momentary feeling of lightness that washes over her as she leaves the hanger.

It isn't until Monsoon rounds the corner that the tears begin pricking at her eyes. She takes off running as soon as the first one hits her cheek, the only thing she can hear over the rushing of blood in her ears is the thunking of her heavy boots on the pavement.

The Daggers stand looking at Maverick. He's holding the envelope to his chest, unsure of the emotions wracking though his body. Then, with a quick hand, he's crudely tearing at the envelope. The contents pour out over the floor of the hanger, looking just like that night at Admiral Simpson's house. Maverick tries to push that thought from his mind as his eyes focus in on the papers covering the floor.

Birthday Cards. Children's birthday cards.

The same ones he wrote to her for her first ten birthdays. He can't even get himself to bend down to pick one up, his neck aching from the way he stares down at them. He notices the little circles of wrinkled paper from long dried tears and his heart fucking breaks. 

The image of Monsoon at four, at seven, that he can see clearly in his mind, but there's a gap missing. Still, Maverick imagines her sitting and rereading the cards at seventeen, at twenty-two, crying over them and the father she could barely remember. Tears prick at Mavericks eyes and he lets them, making no attempt to wipe them away. 

It doesn't take long for the Daggers to figure out that the pile of cards is noticeably small, no more than nine or ten cards on the ground, though no one is near brave enough to say anything.

Moments like this remind Maverick he's still just a mere man. No matter how many records he breaks, aircrafts he tests, or brushes with death he encounters, Maverick is nothing more than a man with a skill set. He has flaws. He makes mistakes. 

That fact is almost too much for him to take. 

The memory of Goose flashes through his mind, the moments leading up to the failed ejection birth the feeling of ocean water weighing down his flight suit, soaking into the padding of his helmet as the water washes over them. So much blood where there should be none. And then Maverick is thinking about cleaning the scraped knees of his daughter, the blood bubbling up through the road rash. The tears, then, were hers as she begged, "Daddy, not the ouch-y cleaner, I don't like it,". But Maverick cleaned her wounds with the alcohol anyway, only to end up holding her against his chest in the same way he would hold Goose in less than a year. 

Maverick's mind is a patchwork quilt of shit memories; stuck reliving them all, fragment by fragment. 

"Class dismissed," Maverick manages, his eyes still glued to the floor. The sounds of fourteen pairs of boots, first loud then quieter as they go, leave the hanger, leaving him standing there, looking at the past he threw away illustrated simply in faded and forgotten birthday cards.

The hands of the clock circle once before Maverick moves. He walks right over the pile, his boots leaving angry, dark tread marks across the colorful paper. He doesn't look back once, not at the pile of cards, not at the hanger, not at the base. 

He drives straight for the Hard Deck. It's the only thing he can think to do, and after all, maybe Penny has some sort of advice. She's the only person he actually knows with a kid- a daughter.

Maverick only makes it half way before he has to pull over. Quickly, he throws himself off his bike, his knees hitting the dirt as he empties the contents of his stomach. As a pilot, he should have a stronger stomach than this, but a choice he made almost eighteen years ago is coming back to haunt him. 

He can still see Monsoon's eyes in the forefront of his mind. They haven't changed a bit from when she was a kid, Maverick realizes, as he's sat back on his haunches trying not to puke again. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing at the feeling of his swirling stomach. 

Maybe he should have stuck around, or at least circled back when he wasn't on deployment. After all, Maria left messages on his machine for almost two years after he up and left. It started with her begging to call which slowly turned into begging him to at least send a fucking birthday card. So he did. 

Then, she stopped calling, and he stopped writing. Monsoon grew up. 

It would be so easy to blame Maria. When she stopped calling, he stopped remembering. Between deployments and missions, flight tests and ceremonies, Maverick could pretend that it all got lost in the shuffle. But then, he remembers Maria and the way she always seemed to flawlessly manage her Naval carrier with raising their daughter, how she could juggle it all without his help when he was deployed and it was all okay. At least that's what he told himself. 

So, he thought if she could do it alone already, no harm could come from putting in for extra duty. That turned into extra deployments, more time away from home. He knew it was all a lie, but he had to tell himself something to justify it. 

It did get easier after a while, as his daughter slowly slipped to the back of his mind. It wasn't until one day, six years after he left that the realization hit him. Maverick hadn't thought of his daughter in months. He should have felt more guilty; he drank himself sick at the thought.

Two years later Maverick didn't even realize he missed her eighteenth birthday. 

Or her twenty-first. 

Over the years he convinced himself he did the right thing. That part of his past became a distant memory that he told himself he didn't miss. Maverick would be lying to himself if he still believed that to be true in this moment, sat on the side of the road after having been faced with the consequences of his long forgotten actions. 

Maverick kept one constant reminder playing on repeat in his mind all those years, You can't be a bad father if you aren't there to be one at all. 

And for the first time since he walked out, Maverick thinks he may have been wrong. 

He sits on the side of the road until the sun sets, stewing in his misery. When he manages to pull himself back up onto his bike, he heads for home, knowing that if Penny knew the whole story he would be on the outs with her, too. And so, he drives slowly, back to an empty house, wishing for the first time in years that it wouldn't be empty when he got there. 

---

When Monsoon finally reached Cyclone's office, eight blocks from the hanger, she almost collapsed in the entryway of the building. But, she pushed through the crowd, ignoring the calls of his assistant who insisted that Cyclone could not be interrupted while he was in a meeting. Monsoon couldn't find it in herself to care. 

When she pushes the door to his office open, she is met with three pairs of eyes. Iceman, Warlock, and Cyclone's eyes meet her frame. She is breathing heavy from the mix of running and sobbing, though it's unclear as to which is causing the redness in her cheeks. 

"Excuse me, recruit, but you can't-" Warlock starts, closing the file sitting in his lap. There is an edge to his tone, not taking too kindly to being interrupted. 

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" Cyclone is cutting off Warlock without a second thought. The moment he moves out from behind his desk, Monsoon is throwing herself into his arms, her barely contained tears now overflowing. Without a second thought, Cyclone is folding her into his arms, doing his best to hold her shaking form. 

"I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop her," Cyclone's assistant huffs, running a hand through his hair. Cyclone waves the younger man off, the door closing behind him with a click. Then, Cyclone is wrapping his daughter tighter in his arms, one hand coming up to rub between her shoulders while the other is wrapped securely around her waist. 

"I'm sorry, gentleman, but the meeting will have to be continued another time," Cyclone speaks, his tone clear, unwavering. Warlock shakes his head but gets up to leave anyway. Iceman follows after him, nodding a sort of good luck to his fellow Admiral before closing the door behind him. 

"Tell me what's wrong, kid," Cyclone is pulling back, his hands squeezing at her shoulders. Monsoon is rubbing at her cheeks, smearing her tears over the expanse of her face. It's the same ugly cry she had when they first met, and the connection make's Cyclone's heart twist. 

"I-" She starts, sentence interrupted by a hiccupping gasp, "Everything is falling apart," 

Monsoon tries to wipe at her face again with her hands, but Cyclone plunges a hand into his pocket only to offer her a green pocket hanky a second later. She takes it with unsteady fingers, her heart still thrumming a mile a minute. 

"Hangman and Rooster got in a fight in class. Jake said a shitty thing about my uncle Nicky, Goose, you know?" 

"Bradley shoved Jake, which isn't exactly a surprise, but then he told everyone that my family situation is all kinds of fucked up, which it is, but it's nobody else's business. God, Pops, I know now that I made a mistake when I started seeing Rooster while we were on deployment together, but God, that was five years ago! It's in the past!"

Cyclone nods at her, listening intently while trying to keep calm. So much new information is being thrown at him with each sentence that leaves her lips and it makes him angry. 

"Worst of all, though," Monsoon wipes at her nose with the hanky, "Maverick knows,"

"He knows?" 

"I told him," She confirms with a whimper and a nod, not daring to meet Cyclone's eyes. If she managed to meet them, she would have been met with nothing but rage boiling behind his irises, red hot flames behind the dark brown of his eyes. 

"I had to, everything was already coming out anyway," She laments. 

"What did he have to say for himself?" The question is asked through grit teeth as he pulls her body tighter against his, a move meant to feel protective but does nothing to quell the flames burning Cyclone from the inside out. All Monsoon can do is shake her head "no" as she sobs against the denseness of his chest. 

"I'm gonna kill him" is all Cyclone can think as he rests his chin against her hair. His jaw ticks as the flaming feeling overtakes his body. If he could, he would strip Maverick of every single one of his achievements, his medals, his rank. He would cut the older man down so far that he was nothing more than a civilian with a dishonorable discharge. 

But he can't.

So instead, he holds his daughter as she cries. He lets her tears soak the tan fabric of his uniform top, the buttons scraping against her skin. He rubs her back and whispers into her hair, promises that everything will be okay. 

---

Somewhere in the Pacific. The Uranium Mission. Three weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad. 

Moments after the Uranium mission is completed, the team piled on the aircraft carrier, all grateful to be alive. Monsoon and Hangman got sent up to shoot down the enemy aircraft, saving Maverick and Rooster. The whole thing left nothing but swirls of confusion and gratitude in Monsoon's heart. 

On one hand, she is so thankful that everyone made it back home. There will be no funerals, no folded flags and no Taps to be played. Instead there will be celebrations, beer and cheering and one too many speeches for a job well done. The whole thing should be liberating as their impending doom has been starved off for the time being, however there is still a feeling of anxiety sitting heaving in her chest.  

Now, Monsoon is stuck watching the pair climb out of the museum piece that they managed to land on the carrier. The wind is whipping past them as she watches the team embrace the two men. Her strangled feelings clog her chest as she makes her way into the fray, first approaching Bradley. 

"Glad to have you back on the ground," Monsoon shouts over the crowd.

"It's good to be back, even if it's not quite the ground," Bradley attempts to joke, "But seriously, we owe everything to you and Hangman," 

"Nobody left behind," Monsoon holds her hand out to Bradley, a gesture of good will. 

"Nobody left behind," Rooster echoes, taking her hand in his own. 

As they shake hands, a sort of understanding forms between them. They share a look, one that reads no hard feelings and Bradley almost tears up. Then, they are pulling back from each other, sharing one last smile. 

Monsoon watches Bradley disappear into the crowd, his tall frame quickly swallowed up by the sea of uniforms. She catches him shake hands with Hangman a moment later, the scene bringing a small smile to her lips. 

Then, Maverick catches her eye, standing a few yards away. There are tears shining in his eyes, but he makes no effort to move forward. They share eye contact for a moment as people move between them. Monsoon offers him a half smile, her brows lifted just slightly. Before Maverick can return it, she nods at him. He nods back, then it's his turn to watch her disappear into the crowd.

It's not quite an understanding, but maybe it's a truce.

At the risk of breaking her own heart, Monsoon chances a look over her shoulder. She watches as Maverick pulls Bradley into a hug, or maybe it's the other way around, it's hard to tell with the swarming of bodies. Either way, the pair wear bright smiles as they embrace and Monsoon doesn't even try to fight off the tears that make their way to her eyes. They aren't tears of anger, no, they are tears of gratitude. Grateful that they all get to live another day, grateful that Maverick and Bradley are giving each other a second chance, and grateful that there isn't a looming cloud hanging over her head anymore. 

She no longer has to wonder about her father, because now she knows he's exactly where he is supposed to be, and both of their lives are better for it. Instead, she has Cyclone, the best father she could have ever asked for, and that is more than enough. 

Cyclone breaks through the crowd, pulling his daughter into his arms, more than thankful for her safe return. He shouts at her, over the crowd, about how well she did and how happy he is that she made it back. The pair hold each other tight for another few moments, neither ready to let go. 

Maverick takes one more look at Monsoon, who's now folded into Cyclone's arms. It's an unfamiliar sight but not an unwelcomed one, for Maverick. One thing's for sure, she is exactly like her Pops- disciplined and talented in the cockpit of a jet. Even more, though, beyond being a good aviator, she is a good person and that's something that Maverick can't regret. 

---

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. One year after the completion of the Uranium Mission and the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A year later, Cyclone and Monsoon find themselves sitting in The Flight Line Bar, her hand thrust out in front of her, ring glittering under the amber lights. 

"You're going to give me away at my wedding, right?" There is a sort of apprehension to her voice as she sips on her beer. 

"It would be my honor, kid," Cyclone slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her sideways into him. He holds her there for a second before letting her sit back upright, a large smile on her lips. 

"Y/N Seresin has a good ring to it," Cyclone adds, bringing his beer up to his lips. 

"About that," Monsoon starts, causing the Admiral to set his beer down, "Jake and I had a conversation, and we thought that having two Aviators in the same squad with the same last name would get confusing, so it's going to be Y/N Simpson, if that's okay with you,"

The Admiral's eyes flood with tears before he can say a single word. They quickly spill down his cheeks and all he can do is look at his daughter, tears of her own overtaking her eyes. 

"I take that as a "yes"?" Monsoon chuckles, wiping her eyes with a shitty bar napkin. 

"Of course it's a yes, kid," Cyclone grabs her hand, holding it on top of the bar. 

The pair sit, hand in hand , tears still wet on their faces and all Cyclone can think about is how fucking lucky he got, how blessed his life is. He finally has a daughter who is happy and in love, a daughter that he will get to walk down the aisle on the most important day of her life. 

When he chances a glance over to her, Cyclone can see the frizz of her hair highlighted by the neon sign buzzing behind her, her cheeks bright red. For a moment, he can see June in the roundness of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Cyclone thinks back to all those years ago, when he and Monsoon first met sitting in this same bar, but he doesn't entertain the memory very long, after all, he has so much to look forward to. So instead, he squeezed her hand. 

"I love you, kid," Beau tells her earnestly, smiling though a few stray tears. 

"I love you too, Pops," Monsoon returns, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Now and always," 

TAG LIST

@its-the-pilot

@t4medicroe

@inkandarsenic

[eternalsams]

Need You Now ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x ex!reader

content/warnings: swearing, cheating, angst, drinking

summary: you fucked up really bad and shows up on Jake's doorstep in the middle of the night

words count: 2.5k

notes: English isn't my first language, please take that into consideration. Unpopular opinion, I love seeing men crying and being vulnerable.)

masterlist

It all started that one night at the Hard Deck, you had just moved in San Diego a few weeks before and knew nobody. Your couple was turning terrible and you didn’t have a job. You family was back in Pennsylvania and you didn’t know anyone. Your boyfriend was still in Philadelphia for work but he promised you he’d be joining you in California in a few weeks. You called every day and hoped everything would get better with time. And that until you crossed his gaze. He was everything Dave wasn’t. You liked the way he was looking at you, like you were the prettiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on. He looked at you from head to toe and you did the same. His military uniform did nothing to hide his defined muscles and broad shoulders. For a moment, you fantasized having a man like him in your life, welcoming him home with a heated kiss that could lead you directly to the bedroom. You had no doubt those arms could lift you up and keep you between a wall and his body. You cleared your throat and came back to your senses. You were with Dave. You couldn’t just fantasize about other men you crossed gaze with. When you looked back at the pool table the man was standing by, you only saw his friends but couldn’t find him. “I’ve never seen you here before.” You turned around and slightly gasped when you saw the military man standing in front of you. You could clearly see his eye color from this close and didn’t think such beautiful eyes could exist. “I’m new in town.” You managed to blurt out. “I could guess.” He smiled and waved at the bartender, asking her for his usual before turning to you with raised eyebrows. You quickly regrouped your thoughts and told her your drink. “On my tab.” He tapped the counter and turned back to you. “I’m Jake.” He reached out his hand for you to shake and you told him your name before smiling and shaking his hand.

For the whole evening, Dave was the last thing crossing your mind. Jake made you laugh, blush and talk about yourself more than your boyfriend ever could. The pilot noticed you’d pull back whenever he tried to flirt with you, but never could he imagine the real reason behind. For two weeks, the pilot tried to charm you and for two weeks, you managed to resist him. Until that one day where you grabbed his face and pushed your lips against his, almost moaning with relief. You felt like breathing for the first time, his hands holding you flush against him and your tongues discovering each other for the first time. You snaked your arms around his shoulders and when you pulled back, Jake chased after you, making you giggle. There was no turning back now, you would inevitably end up hurting him. But it was so good to have him, he was so good to you. You then saw him the next day, and the day after, and the day after too. Days turned into weeks and you completely forgot about Dave until he passed the Hard Deck’s doors one evening. Your breath stopped and you could hear your heart beating in your ears. Jake noticed you stopped paying attention to what he was saying and followed your gaze, seeing Dave order a drink at the bar. “Who’s that?” He asked as he put a hand on your thigh under the table you were sat at. “He’s-” You didn’t want this moment to happen already, you didn’t want to lose Jake for a man you realized didn’t love. You took a deep breath and turned to Jake, watching the worry in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jake. I-” You started as tears welled up in your eyes. “Sorry for what, Sweetheart?” His gaze switched between you and Dave and before you could answer, you heard Dave call your name. The next few minutes were a living nightmare, you could almost see Jake’s heart shatter before you, anger and disgust filling his eyes. He silently winced when you introduced him as your new friend and when Dave pecked your cheek, he gave you nothing but a fake smile before getting up and leaving the table. You tried to go after him but Dave kept you sat, telling you how much he missed you. You could only watch the man you loved pay your drinks before leaving with a stomped heart.

Three weeks passed without you getting any news from Jake, you tried sending him texts, calling him but all you got was his direct voicemail and undelivered chats. You were not surprised he blocked you, but you expected he wouldn’t so you could explain even if you didn’t have any good excuses. The day after Dave arrived in California, you ended things with him and he didn’t have a hard time guessing something was up with Jake. You thought he’d be furious but he was simply disappointed and didn’t try to get more information. He then booked a flight back to Philadelphia and promised you to help you financially to cover the house before cutting everything with you. You couldn’t say you’d stay on good terms with him but you were glad things weren’t bad. You then decided to go out and get your mind on something else than Jake. You went to a different nightclub where nobody could know you and what you’ve done. You ordered a first drink and went on the dance floor. Then you asked for a second drink and found a girl to dance with. You shared a drink and winced when you realized her drink had way more alcohol than yours. When you returned to the counter, you asked for the same drink as the girl and almost drank it all in one sip. You could feel your body getting hot and sick but you weren’t thinking about Jake, so that was good. Jake. You stopped in your track and swallowed hard, still feeling the burning liquid in your throat. You grabbed your phone in your pants pocket and got out of the club. You opened your contact app and looked for the person you knew would answer you at that time. “What do you want?” Rooster’s hoarse voice asked you. You didn’t know the time but you were sure it was too late for him to be awake. “I- I need a favor.” You slurred and held onto the car next to you not to fall. “Are you drunk? Seriously, stop that. You’re gonna kill yourself. He doesn’t need you.” His words were harsh but you didn’t care. “I need him, Bradley. I love him so much.” You felt the tears running down your cheeks but couldn’t stop them. Soon, you’d be sobbing and you couldn’t care less if Rooster heard everything on the phone, if that could get him to give you what you needed, you’d sob on the phone. “What do you want?” He asked again, more serious this time, as if he was ready to give you whatever you wanted. “I need the code for his gate, I don’t think I can pass over it.” You heard him mumble something but couldn’t understand any of his words. “1-9-6-9” He eventually told you and you made a mental note to keep it in mind. “What kind of code is that?” You frowned but started making your way to Jake’s beach house. You knew he’d be there, he told you it was his favorite place and he preferred sleeping next to the sea than in his little apartment in town. “Top Gun creation. Can I go back to sleep now?” Bradley asked you, still on the phone. “Thank you so much, Rooster. I owe you.” He mumbled something along the line of “then don’t ever call me in the middle of the night again” and hung up.

You were walking by the road and people could’ve thought about a zombie apocalypse by the way you swayed. When you finally saw Jake’s beach house, you sighed in relief and entered the code Rooster gave you before the gate opened. You closed it behind you and made your way to the front door. You leaned on one of the wooden pole of his porch and took a deep breath, preventing you from throwing up on his doormat. You knocked a first time on the door and waited a minute, but nobody opened the door. You tried knocking again, but still no Jake. You looked at the time on your phone. 4:26 in the morning. You looked up at the doorbell and winced at the thought of ringing. Jake hated you already. You pressed the little button and took a step back, knowing this time he would come open the door. You heard the keys unlocking the door and you stopped breathing when you saw Jake appear in the door frame. When he recognized you, he went to close the door but you stopped him. “Please.” You whispered and you knew that you had a chance because of how tired he was. “I just needed to see you.” He swallowed hard and looked away. “Well, you saw me. Goodbye now.” He tried to close the door but, again, you stopped him by putting your foot in the door frame. “Don’t make me hurt you, please.” He said so low you weren’t sure you heard him right. “I’m so sorry, Jake-” You started but he looked back at you and you lost your words. “You already said that the other day, remember? Just before yourboyfriend came over.” There it was, the venom he was keeping for himself for weeks, finally spit in your face. “I’m sorry…” You pleaded and tried to take a step closer. “Stop saying that! If you were really sorry, you would leave me alone. So stop calling me and texting me. Stop harassing my friends and don’t come back. I get it, you’re sorry. But if you really cared about me in the first place, you would’ve never pulled that shit.” Your eyes burned and you knew the tears would not help you with Jake as they did with Rooster. “I know I don’t have any excuses for what I did, I know it was wrong and you deserve way better than that. But never doubt of my love.” Jake looked up to avoid your gaze and bit his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “Why did you do it?” He then asked, still not looking at you. “What?” You swallowed a sob. “Why did you lie to me? You liked having two guys at your feet? You thought that would be okay?” He finally looked down at you and noticed the tears welling up in his eyes. “I tried to be faithful, I didn’t want to fall for you. You just made me feel alive and it was addicting. I couldn’t stop what I started, I didn’t know how to. I’m sorry.” Jake winced at your apology and you stopped yourself from apologizing again.

“I know it’s selfish, and I feel like I’m only good at that but, I love you too much to forget you. Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave you alone. No call, no text. I’ll leave your friends alone. I’ll leave San Diego if you told me to.” You looked up at him and crossed his gaze, just like that first night. That night you knew problems would come in your way when he first introduced himself and you felt yourself falling for him. “You’re drunk, come in. I don’t want you out in the streets at this time. You entered the small house and made your way to the living-room, where you two used to share so much just a few weeks ago. You would sit on the couch watching a football game and Jake would be in the kitchen, making some tea before joining you and wrapping you in his arms. You’d settle on his lap and most of the time he would kiss your neck, then your shoulders and eventually rid you of your shirt and make you his on the soft cushions. You wrapped your arms around yourself, the fresh air finally hitting your nerves and making you shiver. “Stay here.” He said before disappearing in his room. He came back a moment later with a sweater he helped you put on. You looked down at it and slightly smiled when you recognized the sweater he would always give you when you’d stay out late outside, watching the stars together. You only knew him for a couple of weeks but it felt like you shared years of memories with him.

“You can go sleep in my bed, I’ll stay on the couch.” He started gathering the cushions to make the couch more comfortable. “No, go back to sleep, I’ll take the couch.” You grabbed his arm to stop him and he pulled back abruptly. “Please don’t. Go in my room, you’ll have a killer hangover, can’t have you have a backache too. Go to sleep, it’s late.” You silently nodded and went to his room plunged in the dark. You heard him shuffle with the couch and laid down on his bed. The sheets were still warm and smelled like him. You inhaled and muffled a sob in the pillow at the scent you missed so much. You laid like this for a couple of minutes before sitting up. “Jake?” You quietly called and could see his lying form on the couch by the open door. “What?” He called back. “Can you come sleep with me, please? I’m cold and not feeling so good.” You heard him groan but saw him getting up and grab his blanket before joining you in the bedroom. “If you throw up in my bed, I’ll kick you out.” He mumbled as he slipped in the sheets, turning his back to you. “I won’t.” You promised and laid back down, facing his back. You wanted to touch him, wrap your arms around him and kiss his fears and worry away. You wanted to tell him you loved him. But you only grazed his back with your finger, feeling the heat of his body without even touching him. You softly smiled, remembering the cold nights you spent wrapped in his arms, feeling safer than ever. You’d snuggle on his side and wait for him to wrap his arms around you, protecting you from the cold outside. Protecting you from almost everything. “Jake?” You murmured. “What?” You thought he would be annoyed you always called for him, but his voice was calm and genuine. “Can I hold you?” You tried your best not to show your shaking voice. “You’re cold?” He asked you, slightly turning his head to look at you over his shoulder. “No.” You said. He shakily sighed and turned over to face you and opened his arms. You were quick to react and snuggled against his chest, already feeling safer. He wrapped you in his arms and you buried your nose in his neck as he pressed a kiss on your forehead. “Good night.” He mumbled, already falling back asleep. “I love you, Jake.” You hold him close to you, scared he might disappear during the night. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I promise.”

[irrevocableloves]

violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter one: the city of forks welcomes you

masterlist ౨ৎ chapter two

summary: y/n swan has lived in forks all of her life, but when she takes her summer-long vacation to california to visit her mother, she returns to a strange new family accompanying her small town.

warnings: swearing, angst

words: 1.8k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for so so long and tbh i haven't written a fanfic since i was 12... and i'm fr 22, but i've ran out of twilight fanfics to read (i've been waiting weeks for one specific one to update and i'm going crazy)... so anyways !! hope you enjoy !!

Opening my eyes, I was greeted with the trees of Forks, Washington. After an almost four hour drive, I could sense that I was nearing my home as the city was nowhere to be found. Instead it was replaced with deep green trees, dim skies, and the small shops that swept by as my dad drove.

I liked Forks, more than I probably should. Everyone here, mostly the kids, sulked about big bright cities where the sun would actually make an appearance. They longed for the liveliness that Forks had never given them.

But me? I secretly adored the quietness of it all. But of course, I had a disadvantage. Every summer I bathed in the sun rays of California, visited the busy cities, the warm beaches, and the overall liveliness that was craved from everyone else. But I was drained. Normally, it would be the opposite from any other person, but I always loved the cold. Ever since I was a kid, my little brain was wired to believe that Forks was almost like Christmas every single day of the year. So, rain, snow, or even ice (even with the ungodly amount of times I've slipped) never had me in too big of a rut.

With my mom back in California, though I loved her to death, was an absolute headache most of the time. And unlike my dad, she hovered. But, it wasn't her fault. The summer is the only time she had me, the rest were reserved with Charlie, which had resulted in this summer's mishaps: she begged me to stay longer. One would think that school would be an easy get out, but she knew the first month was nothing but dry introductions, syllabi, and effortless assignments. It was partly my fault. I was never one to turn her down, perhaps it was guilt because maybe she and I felt deep down that I favored my father more because who could ever turn down a chance to live in the perfect bustling city of San Francisco over Forks.

So I stayed. But now, it's the beginning of October. Thankfully, I was able to get in contact with the school in order to get all of my classes in order, as well as the help of my best friend, Angela, who emailed me all of the assignments. Jessica on the other hand, filled me in on all of the gossip. Her phone calls consisted of talks about her massive crush on Mike as well as the new and "totally weird" (as Jessica put it) family. "Suuupperrr pale, but weirdly GORGEOUS. I mean this Edward guy, he's wow. I swear if Mike doesn't make a move soon... I wonder if I could make him jealous?" The conversations were mostly one-sided, always either complaining about Mike's obliviousness or never catching that new guy's attention.

Now that I knew I was caught up on everything to do with school, all I wanted was to bury myself in bed and prepare for an alarm that hasn't been set in months.

I awoke to the sound of a car honking outside my window, assuming it was nothing, I settled back into my pillows, throwing my purple duvet back over your head for hopefully another thirty minutes of sleep.

"Y/N/N!" I heard my dad's voice accompanied by one of his famously loud whistles from outside of my window. That's when I finally got up and peered over with squinting eyes to see my father coming out of a car that most definitely wasn't his squad car.

Once my vision settled, I saw a green Volkswagen beetle parked in the driveway. No fucking way. I sprinted down the stairs and flung the front door open to see my father with a wide grin, gesturing the keys in front of my face.

"For me? You're joking?" I said in complete shock.

"You want me to be joking? Cause if so I can just bring this right back to Billy and let him sell it to some other geezer."

"No! No! No! I mean... Thank you, dad. Oh my god, how did you guys even find this?"

"Well, consider it a late birthday present. Billy and Jacob found it back in May for your birthday and decided to fix it up for ya, free of charge, but I paid 'em of course."

"Thanks dad and how about we invite Billy and Jacob over sometime and I'll cook? As a thank you?"

"You bet."

Once I parked in front of the school, my group of friends welcomed me with open arms, with Angela and Jessica squealing about how much they missed you and the boys, mostly just Mike, trying to awkwardly hug me.

I knew Mike had a crush on me, since third grade to be exact, which only made it worse for my friendship with Jessica, which made it worse for Lauren, Jessica's bestest friend to have an even better reason to despise me.

The first four classes: English, Government, Trigonometry, and French were surprisingly a breeze thanks to the assignments either Angela or the teachers sent over while I was away.

While at lunch, a new, unfamiliar bunch emerged from the cafeteria doors. They were beautiful... and also extremely pale even for Forks. So, this was the family Jessica was practically drooling over?

"Who are they?" I questioned anyways.

Jessica leans in, being careful to whisper, "It's the family I was telling you about. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's foster kids. They all moved down here from Alaska like last month."

I studied the first girl who walked in, bleached blonde hair, almost black eyes that were almost unsettling, she wore a thin grey coat and a knitted white scarf that matched her icy skin, and a necklace with a large charm that looked to be a family crest of some sort.

"The blonde girl, Rosalie, and the big dark-haired guy, Emmett..." Jessica continued.

More of the family gathered in slowly, the blonde was linking hands with a man with jet black hair, with the same family crest residing on his wrist.

"... they're a thing. I'm not even sure that's legal." Jessica grimaced.

Angela piped in, "Jess, they're not actually related."

"But they live together and all wear that weird creepy crest like some sort of cult. And the little dark haired girl, Alice, she's really weird..."

Despite Jessica's remarks, Alice was the one who caught my eye the most so far and not in a negative way. She reminded me of a fairy almost with her pixie-like hair cut, her style, and the way she carried herself, which was pretty whimsical in a way. Her arms were locked with a man beside her, bleached blonde just as Rosalie was.

"... she's with Jasper, the blonde who looks like he's in pain" Jessica continued on, "I mean, Dr. Cullen's like this foster dad slash match maker."

"Maybe he'll adopt me." Angela giggled.

The last Cullen to enter, I assumed it was Edward, the man Jessica claimed to be weirdly gorgeous and 'wow'. 'Wow' was the perfect word to explain how I felt as he strode down the cafeteria. I couldn't keep your eyes off of him, even as he went past your table, I was oddly captivated by his presence. He had a lanky body, matched with the same pale skin as his siblings, bronze hair and striking smirk. You could've sworn he heard Jessica's whispered remarks from across the cafeteria.

"He's totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently, no one here is good enough for him. Like I care." She does. "Anyway, don't waste your time."

"I wasn't planning on it." I looked away before his eyes could find mine and once I did, I felt as if holes were practically burned at the back of my head. Was he staring?

Out of curiosity, I peered over my shoulder, quickly glancing, seeing his eyes on mine and quickly turning my eyes back, slowly hiding behind my hair.

Before I walked into Biology, I shuffled through my backpack to look for the assignments I'd done in your time away, settling them in my hands as I walked through the door.

Greeting Mr. Banner, I handed him my completed assignments that were neatly put together with a paper clip.

"Finally nice to see you Miss Y/L/N, how was your summer?" Being great at biology put you at an advantage, not only for assignments, but because Mr. Banner didn't question much about my month long disappearance, but I couldn't say the same about PE...

"It was good, thank you."

"Well that's great, I'm glad! And I appreciate your completed assignments, not even people attending have it all quite done like you have!" He rambled. "So! Your seat... There's a seating chart, but there should be an empty seat I left for you...,yes! Right there, next to Mr. Cullen." Mr. Banner pointed to the right side of the classroom to the seat next to the Cullen boy.

Edward's eyes once again felt as if they burned through my own, staring at me as if you had wronged him in some way. The hatred in his eyes was well aware, but for what reason?

With each step I took, the more disgust in his features appeared, almost as if he was holding his breath. Did I stink or something? I attempted not to smell myself to see if perhaps I had raging body odor or even a bad breath that radiated from across the classroom. No one else seemed to have an issue besides him.

Once I was sat, I heard him mutter into a cough, but I only made eye contact with his beading black eyes and said nothing at all. He only pushed the microscope towards me slowly, being careful to not come any closer to me as if he would catch something.

I sighed loudly, making my annoyance well known. He only just tensed.

Throughout the entirety of the class, the tension continued. I even considered going up to Mr. Banner and asking to switch seats with someone, but that only sparked the possibility of Mike forcing Eric to switch seats and I honestly couldn't figure out which would be worse. So, I decided to suffer through the entire hour and perhaps learn to suffer the entire year partnered with a man who could hardly even look me in the eye without being utterly disgusted.

At first I was hurt, but the hurt swiftly turned into annoyance once the partner sessions began. He didn't even consult with me, rather he just scribbled as fast as he could, only of what he was able to see through the microscope, only handing it to me after to check his answers. All correct, surprisingly.

Staring at the clock, I was counting down the time until the bell. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Edward had gotten up, practically running out of the classroom before the bell had officially rung.

next chapter

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[sidthedollface2]

The one that got away

PART 2

Pairing: Eddie x Fem Reader, Steve x Fem Reader, Eddie x Chrissy

Word Count: 5k+

Summary: After you left Hawkins 3 yrs ago, leaving behind your best friend and biggest what if, Eddie Munson. You find yourself back in the city of broken dreams, where nothing's changed yet everything is not always what it seems.

Or

A former acquaintance informs you what Eddie's been up to while you've been gone. What should be a happy milestone ends in heartbreak.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ themes, Angst, hurt/no comfort, hurt/comfort, swearing, cheating, pregnancy talk, Chrissy, pet names, no y/n,

"How sad to face the future without the one you planned it with."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hello?"

"Eddie! She's back."

'Honey, who is it?'

"Wrong number Chrissy, go back to bed."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Where is she?"

.

.

.

"With Steve."

~

You were back and Eddie couldn't believe it, he'd thought you had gone on vacation with your family but when 3 weeks turned into 3 months and now 3 years. Was it too late to reconnect? Did you even miss him? Did you even care?

It wasn't supposed to be this way, not for Eddie. You two were supposed to leave Hawkins together. Wake up in bed together in the house he had bought for you, wearing his mothers ring on your left hand.

He'd bring you coffee in bed with a grilled cheese, made just the way you like, while you silently read your dark romance novels. That night you'd both recreate the steamy scenes, figuring out what worked and what didn't all while laughing and giggling in embarrassment or desire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Being back in Hawkins was bitter sweet, sweet because of the friends and lovers you missed, like the man in bed with you now. Bitter because memories of best friends turned strangers like Eddie, who still after all the years occupied a space in your heart.

"I missed this." Steve groaned into your hair, wrapping his arms tight around you. "Me too." You smile into his bare chest, cuddling him a little longer. "Thank you again. For letting us stay with you."

"You thanked me plenty last night." He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows.

You giggle, swatting at his chest, "Perv." Being with Steve again was easy, he was your person for everything. A shoulder to cry on when life got tough, the most perfect cuddle buddy with his soft and cozy sweaters, a giving and passionate lover.

"Me? Perv with you? Duh!"

Steve smothered you with kisses as he hovered above you. "You know you can stay here, with me. I have an extra room for the baby. You don't have to go back to California." He explained, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His offer was nothing but sweet and perhaps with all the history you had together, it made sense to live a life with him. Your mind though, went back to Eddie. You couldn't escape him if you lived here, not like in California.

Steve noticed the pensive look on your face and he knew what was stopping you, or who was stopping you. "Eddies moved on, you should too." Steve's tone was bitter as he rolled off you, sitting at the edge of the bed.

You sigh, annoyance clear in your tone, "I'll get a motel tonight." You mentioned, casually grabbing all your belongings and shoving them aggressively in your luggage. Steve just sighed, instantly regretting his comment. You had just landed last night and he was already pushing you away, making you run. Run from each and every inconvenience, running was something you picked up from Eddie, usually you'd run together. But lately you've been running away from him, and now running from Steve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing Arie play in the same playground that you used to was comforting. Her little legs carried her across the field as you chased after her, giggling and screeching with laughter. She'd spotted some flowers and instantly her tiny hands reached for them. In the distance moms jogged while pushing their babies in strollers, the elderly getting their steps in for the day, shirtless men glistened in the sun as the sweat from their run coated their bodies.

"Poppy? Is that you?"

The last person you wanted to see was Chrissy Cunningham. Even years later you never broke your promise to Eddie. She was none the wiser, Eddie had showered her with flowers asking for forgiveness and within days they were on good terms again.

"In the flesh." You said, keeping an eye on the little toddler that was currently picking dandelions, you had a few behind your ear already.

"How've you been? What brings you back." She pressed.

How have you been? What a loaded question. You've been better. You left to California to live with your aunt because your parents kicked you out once they found out you were pregnant. With no money and no college degree you worked as a waitress in a fancy restaurant, tips were generous enough to pay for night school.

You had given birth to a little baby girl, all alone with only the sweet maternity nurses to guide you and hold your hand as you pushed her into the world. She was the light of your life, how could you not immediately love her, especially with her fathers eyes.

'She's beautiful' the nurses had cooed. Usually newborns were very sleepy and hardley opened their eyes, not your little girl. She had large doe eyes, thick full lashes that made you jealous, the cutest little button nose you had ever seen. Every nurse that saw her beamed at how alert she was.

'What's this little baby's name honey?' The nurse asked as she took your vitals to discharge you.

"Arwen Marie Munson, Arie for short."

You smiled at the little bundle of joy that was nursing from your breast, she was a natural, probably got that from her Dad you thought. You should've told Eddie, you still wanted to tell Eddie. You just didn't, couldn't. You promised Eddie Chrissy couldn't know, you took that promise seriously.

Had you told him you were pregnant Chrissy would know he had cheated on her, and you couldn't follow in your moms footsteps. You couldn't take another girl's man, couldn't come between what they already had. So you hid it, in large sweaters and coats. Steve knew, he helped you even though almost weekly he'd beg and threaten to tell Eddie. He never did, the loyal friend that he was. If someone asked he said the baby was his. He wanted kids anyway, got to live out a little dream while you still lived in Hawkins.

"I've been great Chrissy, California's nice. The Weather's perfect. Um, how are you?

Oh how she hoped you asked her that question, fell head first right into her trap and she knew it.

"Oh well me and Eddie are trying again for a baby."

You almost gave yourself whiplash for how fast your neck snapped in her direction. A baby? Again?! Your heart had been broken by him before, but now it was just a pile of dust. Broken over and over, crushed so small it was beyond repair. You swallowed the knot in your throat, no tears left to cry, not for him. You couldn't hope for a future with him, not anymore. That ship has sailed and is now at the bottom of the Pacific, never to see the light of day.

"Put a ring on my finger too! We're going to be married in a few months, you should come."

Eddie was getting married, and you were drowning, sinking into the darkness that was pulling you under. Water fills your lungs by the gallon. A heavy weight tied to your foot, descending you further and further into the deep, away from Eddie.

To pour salt on the gaping wound, Chrissy almost hit you in the face with how fast she shoved that ring in your face. "Oh wow. It's beautiful Chrissy. I'm happy for you." She smirked, with a vengeful look in her eyes. She had won, Eddie belonged to her and she wanted you to know. Shoved it your face that they still fucked and often. Actively trying meant every day, multiple times in different positions till that baby stuck. And if he had asked her to marry him, well you knew that he loved her.

"Um, It was nice seeing you Chrissy, but I gotta meet up with an old friend."

"Oh yeah sure, you too. Byeee."

Chrissy departed with a wave, her pony tail swinging behind her as she finished her jog in the park.

Once Chrissy was far enough you scooped up Arie in your arms, her little hands smooshed your cheeks together making you giggle. You couldn't fall apart in front of her, being an empath she'd sob along with you. It was just 3 days, if you could avoid Eddie for those days you'd fly back to California like you never set foot in Hawkins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You helped your mom set the table while she finished cooking dinner, she made your favorite, chicken enchilada casserole. It was bittersweet being back home, your relationship with your mom was on the mend, after Arie was born she had apologized and was slowly becoming a grandma that Arie deserved.

"Poppy get the door!" She yelled from the kitchen, you had been in your head so much you didn't hear the knocking at your door. Chrissy's words looped over and over in your mind.

'Trying again.'

When you swung the door open all the blood drained from your body, the air in your lungs ceased to exist as the presence of the person in front of you render you speechless. A thin layer of sweat glazed over your face, heart beating erratically behind your ribs, evidence that the organ does in fact throb for him.

"Hi Poppy, you look good." He smirked.

With a hitch in his breath, Eddie's eyes took you in from head to toe. Your lovely face he missed so much held just as much beauty as it did the day he fell in love with you. Your eyes that were windows to your soul carried all the sadness he had caused. Eddie swears he'll spend the rest of his life making it up to you. His eyes trail down your figure, a gray colored dress hugged every curve and dip of your frame, thigh high boots elongated your legs, reminding Eddie of the night he was between them.

Seeing you after 3 years apart made him realize that souls that are meant to be together, transcend through time, always finding each other until nothing can separate them. So much time had passed but his every thought for those 3 years were of you, all the things he wanted to say, all the places he wanted to travel to with you by his side. The future he had planned vanished the day he knew you weren't coming back. Tonight, hope lingered in the air, you were the flicker of light in his darkness. And like a moth to a flame, even with singed wings he'd still crawl to you.

Voiceless with the only thought going through your mind is that Arie really does have her fathers eyes. Those big brown eyes that you missed so much, years of watching his gaze go from friendship to love to strangers. Lovers for just a night, a friendship long forgotten, all that remains are two strangers.

'Trying again'

"What are you doing here?"

Your frigid tone takes him off-guard, distance did not make your heart grow fonder. You close the door behind you, instinctually shielding Arie from his view. You noticed his eyes rake over you and a wave of insecurity washes over you. No longer in a girls body, motherhood had changed you, filled you in.

"You're mom invited me for dinner." He takes a step forward. You step back, bumping into the door behind you.

"Eddie, you can't be here."

Before he can respond your mom opens the door, inviting him in with a tight hug and exuberant greeting. You create enough distance between him, allowing him to step inside without needing to squeeze by you. Something that Eddie noticed.

Eddie waited till you sat down, just to sit across from you, the perfect view while he dined with your family. He couldn't take his eyes off you, afraid that if he even blinked you'd disappear. Studying your every movement, he noticed not once had you looked at him, not even a glance. Even clearing his throat didn't bring your eyes to meet him.

You didn't join in conversation, only nodded and pushed your food around your plate. Noticing your delicate hands, It brought him pure joy not seeing a wedding band on your finger.

"Honey, is the food not good? Your mother questioned, her eyes skimming your plate, not a single bite had been eaten.

"Sorry mom, I had a late lunch with Ste–"

"I had a late lunch." You mumble, eyes darting to her and back to your plate.

Hearing Steve's name roll off your tongue with ease sent a flare of jealousy down his spine. Of course you'd see Steve the moment you walked off that plane, he probably picked you up, held you in his arms while you buried your face in his neck muttering 'I miss you's.' You must have allowed Steve to cradle your face while he kissed you, held your hand as you followed him to his car and without a doubt he had slept with you, now that he and Nancy were no longer together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All the loud thoughts in your head blocked out the sound of padded feet coming down the stairs, until a sweet voice bounced off the walls earning the attention of everyone in the room.

"Mama."

Arie stood at the bottom of the stairs, eyes hazy with sleep. Her minnie plushie clutched in her tiny hands. Although soft, her tiny voice was loud enough to silence the entire room. You saw it unravel in slow motion. Eddie's gaze followed the sound of that sweet baby voice, looking over his shoulder there was no denying those big baby cow eyes and dark long lashes. Arie's brown soft curls, wild and full just like his, her round chubby cheeks flushed pink. Eddie seemed to register the inherited features, a perfect blend of himself along with the only face he's ever loved.

Eddie's eyes returned to you, calculating the months and years in his head, concluding what you had feared. "Poppy, we have a baby," not a question, but a declaration. His voice was brittle when he spoke the words. Adams apple bobbing as he tried to swallow down that knot tightening in his throat. He stared at you. His eyes glossed at everything he had missed. All of his daughters firsts you took from him and kept her away. Not once calling or sending photos.

He'd never caress your swollen belly or feel all the kicks and rolls she did as she got stronger and stronger. The words 'baby you did it' after you pushed for hours would never leave his lips. Separating his daughter from you by cutting her umbilical cord was no longer a special moment between a father and his first born. Tears freely escaped down his hot cheeks as he saw you push away from the table and run.

'We have a baby'

You couldn't face him, explain or even summarize. The look on his face at the realization that Arie was his would haunt you for a lifetime. So you did what you always did, what you had done from the very start. You ran. You ran to your baby girl and scooped her up in your arms, grabbing your keys on the way out the door. Eddie was up and already blocking the exit before you even got the chance to turn the knob.

"Eddie please." You begged.

"No Poppy. If I let you run, I'll never see her again."

"I need time, she needs time." You pleaded, signaling to the sleepy little girl in your arms.

"Three years wasn't enough?" He sniffled, his hand reaching for his daughter. "Let them go, Ed." Your step dads protective voice pulled Eddie out of his thoughts, reluctantly stepping away from the door to let you pass, he watched as you ran away with his daughter in your arms.

Back at the motel you lay beside Arie, wrapping her soft curls around your finger and watching as they bounce back. Her soft snores fill the room and you study her adorable features as she snuggles her plushie. The love you have for her is unlike anything you've ever experienced, you'd go to the end of the world to bring her an ounce of joy, work yourself to the bone to make sure she's safe and cared for. The love between a mother and her child knows no bounds, It's never ending in its strength and power, an unconditional love so deep that you'd give your own life to ensure her happiness.

So why are you protecting Chrissy and her feelings?

Why keep the promise to Eddie when his daughter's needs are more important than both of them combined. Arie deserves to know her father. She deserves to have a relationship with him, if he wants it. She needs to know you didn't stand in the way and deny her that father daughter bond, or the chance to get to know him.

The clock on the side table reads 9 PM and you wonder if it's appropriate to call Eddie so late, would Chrissy be upset if she knew you were calling her fiancé.

"Fiancé."

The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth but you're done protecting Chrissy's feelings. As you begin to dial a sudden knock at the door startles you and you hang up quickly. You glance toward Arie to ensure she's still sleeping, while shushing the person on the other side of the door.

"Open the door Poppy."

There's a sense of uncertainty in the voice behind the door, if he chases you there's a possibility for you to run back to California taking Arie far away. If he doesn't chase you, then it implies he doesn't care and that couldn't be farther from the truth.

There were only three hotels in Hawkins and this was the last one, he wouldn't have stopped until he found you and here he was at the door begging for a chance. His forehead leaned against the wooden door, palms flat against the wood at shoulder level, his voice pleading with you to let him in.

Slowly you take steps toward the door, each foot closer to the one person responsible for all your wonderful dreams and worst nightmares. The soft click of the lock sounds loud in your ears as if opening a cell door that you trapped yourself in. Hinges of the door creak as you slowly pull it open, revealing the man you've been running from, the man that now runs to you.

Eddie.

His gaze shifts between you and the sleeping toddler behind you, feeling like time is of the essence as he walks over the threshold, to you. Shutting the door, he closes the distance, his body pushed against yours in a warm embrace, enveloping you in his strong arms.

Eddie feels like he's in a dream, the love of his life within his arms and his baby girl peacefully sleeping. Eddie's nose nudges at your neck, inhaling the delicious scent of your hair reminding him that this isn't a dream. "I've missed you so damn much." He reveals, pulling away slightly to look into your eyes, wanting nothing more than to be able to stare into them every morning. "I've……I've missed you too Eddie." You smile shyly, hands resting on his forearms.

His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes, hands now cradling your jaw, thumbs softly caressing the apples of your cheeks, he leans in licking his lips. Heart hammering against his chest in anticipation. Wanting to bathe you with his loving kisses and explore every inch of you. He sees you tense and your eyes widen, your palm comes to rest on his chest, pressure firm as you gently decline his advance.

"I can't." You whisper, wrapping your hands around his wrists and removing them from touching your face. Eddie notices the slight snuggle you do before you pry his hands away and the way your thumb brushes over his wrist soothingly as you lead him to the bed.

"Her name's Arwen Marie Munson."

Eddie covers his mouth, muffling the quiet sob that escaped his lips, his eyes cloud over as tears begin to form at his lash line. He's flooded with emotion and his slight shake of his shoulders breaks your heart. Marie Munson, Eddie's mothers name would live on through his daughter, a gesture so pure and loving it moved him to tears.

He has no doubt in his mind his mother would be over the moon at knowing she was a grandma to a little girl, the little girl she had always wanted. Seeing Eddie so overwhelmed with emotion was a rare occurrence, growing up he was constantly told to man up, boys don't cry.

You beckon Eddie to the bed, signaling to lay beside his daughter, mirroring him, you take the spot on the opposite side. With Eddie facing Arie and you snuggled up behind her, he relishes in the beauty of having you both snuggled close. "She's so perfect, Poppy." He whispers, as he lovingly strokes his baby's chubby cheeks, her little head cozying up to him like he's been around since the beginning.

Your heart swells at the sight of them cuddled together, just as it should be. Guilt eats at your joy as you mentally scold yourself for denying Arie this relationship. "Eddie, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I made a promise and I intended to keep it." Eddie's eyes show nothing but love and understanding for you and Arie, not a single grudge to be had or bitterness towards you.

There's no point in fighting with you about the past, especially in front of Arie. He has you both here in his arms, the woman he's loved since he was a kid and now the mother of his child. Arie's snuggled in between the both of you, safe and protected by her parents, oblivious to the heartache brewing in both your hearts.

Eddie would rather revel in this temporary dream of his perfect family, just as he's envisioned for years, than discuss the why's and what if's of everything that's gone wrong. Everything has gone wrong. He should have told you he liked you. He should have told you that he thought of you as more than a friend, so much more. Should have told you that Steve was never going to love you as much as he did. And that he was never going to get over you, not then, not now, not ever.

"I love you Poppy, I would have been there for you. I still want to be there for you. I want to be a father to Arie. I want this with you. Our baby, a family. I want it. Please, tell me you do too."

Eddie reaches for your hand, fingers lacing between yours as he brings the back of your hand to his lips, kissing the smooth skin, lighting a dormant flame within your heart.

Like a smoke alarm Chrissy's words ring loud in your ear.

'Oh, well me and Eddie are trying again for a baby.'

'Put a ring on my finger too! We're going to be married in a few months.'

"You're a liar Eddie." You fume, releasing his hand and bolting to the door, needing the space and fresh air the night has to offer. Eddie's quick to follow you outside, hot on your heels and ready to go to war to have you in his life for good.

"I didn't lie, I meant everything I said, please believe me!" Eddie's hands pull at the roots of his hair, frustration and worry in his tone as he stares at you in bewilderment.

"I talked to Chrissy. She told me about your baby, and about the wedding. You made a future with her, you already have a family with her. You chose her!" Your voice trembled and a soft sob left your lips as you spoke the words. Tears flowing past the apples of your cheeks, coating the sweater that covered your crossed arms. Pain and despair wrapped around your heart like a barbed wire, piercing you from within with its sharp blades, strangulating each and every desire you had.

"Chrissy?" He asked.

"Mmhmm, Chrissy, your fiancé."

Oh that Chrissy. Eddie had been so wrapped up in getting you back that Chrissy hadn't crossed his mind, a testament of how much she really meant to him. She didn't have your energy or your smile. Her laugh didn't remind him of his favorite song. When he closed his eyes at night his dreams weren't of her, they were of you and all the ways he'd show you how much he adored you.

"She told me you're trying for another baby." You sniffle, wiping your wet eyes with the end of your sleeve.

Eddie stepped closer to comfort you, hug you, touch you, kiss you. Anything to ease the agony that was coursing through your veins. But like before you denied him with a shake of your head, and stepped back, away from him, creating a distance so large it seemed like you both were on opposite sides of the grand canyon.

"Baby, She–"

"Stop, I can't do this." You interrupt, memories of that night flood your brain at the familiar pet name. The same pet name that brought you to your knees.

'Taste so good baby'

The same loving name one would give their girlfriend, or fiance. He probably calls Chrissy the same thing, cooed in her ear and made promises that he actually kept. Bred her just as he had said to you in the heat of passion.

Jealousy reared its ugly head, souring any desire you had to make things right by Arie.

"Please, just leave. Chrissy must be worried." You muttered, gaze looking beyond him, wanting nothing more than to forget the past and move forward to a time where heartbreak wasn't a daily occurence.

"Do you love me?" He asked.

Your lip quivers as you will your body to betray your heart.

"No. I don't love you, not anymore."

Breaking his heart now would be easier for you both to move on and forget. Eddie knew you were lying, the furrow in your brow and the hesitancy in your eyes told him that much. You were in your head again, pushing him all the way out, all that he wanted to convey would fall on deaf ears.

"Who's the liar now?" He scoffs, folding his arms across his chest.

"Fine." You relent. "I still love you with all the broken pieces of my heart. But you still need to leave."

Eddie pinches the space between his brows, shaking his head in frustration.

Raising his voice Eddie counters your request for him to leave. "Jesus fucking Christ Poppy let me just explain! Can I do that? Give me five minutes." He huffs.

With a wave of your hand you signal for him to continue.

Eddie paces the narrow hallway, his face pensive as he carefully finds the words to untangle the mess Chrissy put him in. The neon glow from the motel sign casts a red shadow on his face, accentuating the muscle of his jaw and the slight pout of his lips.

"Fuck where do I start? Ok. listen, Chrissy and I have broken up and gotten back together like every other week for years! Recently she had gotten preg… FUCK!"

He swallows the knot in this throat, as tears pool his waterline. He couldn't look at you and tell you how he had gotten Chrissy pregnant without feeling like he'd shatter you more than you already were.

Aggressively wiping at his reddened eyes he continues. "Her dad made me propose to her, saying that his grandchild wouldn't be born a bastard. But weeks later she lost the baby, and I just couldn't take it back, not while she was grieving. And some fucked up part of me was relieved that i was no longer going to be tied to her."

"But she said you were trying again." You pushed, trying to understand the full extent of Chrissys words.

"She's lying, angel. She stretched the truth to hurt you. I don't have a baby with her, and I don't want to marry her." He confesses.

Eddie reaches for your hip, pulling you flush against his firm body. Cradling your soft cheek in his palm, carefully, he wipes at the tears that fall freely.

"All the good memories I have Poppy, are with you. You're my home. I've been lost, wandering aimlessly looking for something that might resemble what I've been wanting but nothing has been as warm and comforting as you. Nothing feels like home more than you. All this time It should have been me and you, so please baby, let me come home."

You can feel the roaring of his heart, professing his undying love for you, calling out for just one chance at forever. Without another doubt you answer with your lips crashing against his. Eddie groans into your mouth, carding his fingers through your hair he deepens the kiss, devouring you with a clash of teeth and tongue, savoring the flavor of your mouth he missed so much. He had finally found his way back to you, a lifetime of forever written in the stars, stamped and sealed with a kiss.

~"And in my dreams I will always find my way back to you."~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @lady-munson @tlclick73 @edsforehead @hideoutside @kissmejoey @luv-flor7777 @amira0303 @eddiesguitarskills @indigoigloo @emma77645

A/n: Thank you for reading and reblogging. Epilogue?

[setmeatopthepyre]

Bucktommy breakup (arc) mix

I started making this playlist pretty much right after 8x06 in order to cope with all the feelings, first just throwing together some songs, later structuring them into their own little emotional arc. Prepare for all the stages of grief but with a generous sprinkle of love, more than a few winks, nods and references, and a dash of hope for reconciliation at the end. Song list with lyric highlights below. Bon appetit!

(There's a couple of references and half-jokes hidden here and there, so let me know if you catch those. Also if you're curious at all about any of my choices or why a certain song is included, please ask me. I love yapping about this shit and have 100% overthought this playlist a million times.)

--

Built to Break (Glitterfox) - Every thread is bound to fray / I can't outrun the ending

if this was a movie.. (Kacey Musgraves) - If this was a movie / You'd run up the stairs / You'd hold my face / Say we're being stupid / And we'd fall back into place

Plain Sailing Weather (Frank Turner) - This was supposed to be easy / I found the one damn person to help me fall asleep in the night

Smalltown Boy [Bronski Beat cover] (Orville Peck) - But the answers you seek will never be found at home / The love that you need will never be found at home / Run away, turn away, run away, turn away

Scared (Joywave) - I wanna touch you but I'm scared / I really love you though, I swear / I had another nightmare / Covered in sweat and unprepared / I woke and you weren't there

La da da (Glitterfox) - I don't know what to say / My head gets in the way / I don't know what to feel / Only learned to conceal

Let Me Drown (Orville Peck) - I swear there's good things that are coming your way / And I can't be the one left here, dragging you down

Stick Season (Noah Kahan) - I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad / That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad / Now I'm no longer funny 'cause I miss the way you laugh / You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

Why Would You Be Loved (Hozier) - It's only said to be kind, the time that you have with love / You're never told, but you're loaned it // Why would you play it all on something as hollow as trust? / What if you gave it all to find that it wasn't enough?

San Andreas (Louise Burns) - The San Andreas fault line tells me stories from below / California misery in this angel town of gold

Feels Like a Lie (Joywave) - It'd be human to let it go someday / But I've got it stored above my rib cage

camera roll (Kacey Musgraves) - Chronological order and nothing but torture / Scroll too far back, that's what you get / I don't wanna see 'em but I can't delete 'em / It just doesn't feel right yet

How Far Will We Take It? (Orville Peck & Noah Cyrus) - I tried to love you, just couldn't break through / No getting used to living without you / 'Cause I've been waiting, don't wanna waste it / We're all alone now, how far will we take it?

Black Treacle (Arctic Monkeys) - And I tried last night to pack away your laugh / Like a key under the mat / But it never seems to be there when you want it

Recovery (Frank Turner) - I know you are a cynic, but I think I can convince you / Broken people can get better if they really want to / Or at least that's what I have to tell myself if I am hoping to survive

We Are All We Need (Joywave) - I was a boy who kept a list of everybody who wouldn't let me in / Sense of humor now about it / But there's a jadedness where love should have been

No Such Thing (Sara Bareilles) - Thin air, you're out there in it somewhere / If I could only get there / I could breathe again // I've tried to get over you / But I think there's no such thing

First Time (Hozier) - Before I heard it from your mouth / My name would always hit my ears as such an awful sound

Ever You're Gone (Orville Peck & Teddy Swims) - This anxious heart of mine / Gets me in and out of trouble so many times / And I keep losing pieces each time I try / I burned enough bridges to light my way home

Wanna Be Loved (The Red Clay Strays) - I just wanna be loved / I've been afraid and I've been alone / Sometimes I need someone to pick up the phone / I'm tired of leaving / I need a home

Timefighter (Lucy Dacus) - And I fought time / It won in a landslide

No Witnesses (Keaton Henson) - So I wrote down a list of all the things / We've never spoken of / And I wrote "Man, I hate Los Angeles" / And I've never been in love

Love is a Laserquest (Arctic Monkeys) - When I'm hanging on by the rings around my eyes / And I convince myself I need another / For a minute, it gets easier to pretend that you were just some lover

Haven't Been Doing So Well (Frank Turner) - And if self-loathing was a sport I'd be Muhammad Ali / 'Cause I can sting like a butterfly and sink like a bee / But they don't hand out medals to monsters like me

787 Dreamliner (Joywave) - I'm feeling dizzy just from the view / Got another six lives to lose / Before my final descent is through / Before I find my way back to you

Hot & Heavy (Lucy Dacus) - When I went away, it was the only option / Couldn't trust myself to proceed with caution / The most that I could give to you is nothing at all / The best that I could offer was to miss your calls

Burning House (Cam) - I had a dream about a burning house / You were stuck inside / I couldn't get you out / Laid beside you and pulled you close / And the two of us went up in smoke

Don't Keep Driving (The Paper Kites) The distance between us is half of this city / Don't keep on driving, let me say something / There's nothing wrong with a little space / But not right now, don't leave / Don't push me away

On Board (Alana Henderson & Joshua Burnside) - And if you came on board / I know you'd scan for the safety of a lighthouse blink / Any port in a storm, love / You promise you won't falter / But I know I've seen men sink

I Know (King Princess & Fiona Apple) - You can use my skin / To bury secrets in / And I will settle you down

Canyon (JOSEPH) - Take me to your darkest corner / Show me what you're trying to hide / I've got a little fear / But it's the reverent kind

Back At Your Door (Orville Peck & Debbii Dawson) - I'm sure the deadbolt's turned / But baby, if it weren't / I'd come quiet up the staircase / Slip into your arms / Like I was never gone

Watchman (Gregory Alan Isakov) - So take me however I seem to be / Haunted, I know

Francesca (Hozier) - My life was a storm since I was born / How could I fear any hurricane?

Noise in My Head (spookyghostboy) - Sit in the dark for a while / Look for your name on my phone / My thumb hovers over the button / It rings and you say, "Hello"

Orpheus (Sara Bareilles) - Don't stop trying to find me here amidst the chaos / Though I know it's blinding, there's a way out

Late To You (Keaton Henson) - All these years of running / Of running away / I've been looking for something / For something to feel this way

The Way I Tend To Be (Frank Turner) - But then I remember you / And the way you shine like truth in all you do

Saint Honesty (Sara Bareilles) - We're collecting evidence / Of one remarkable storm / How wild it was to find it, finally feel the climate / Instead of only staying dry and warm

[tsumusangxl]

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chapter five ʚ [the denial]

pairing ʚ Hinata Shoyou x f!Reader x Iwaizumi Hajime

warnings ʚ Iwa's pov, not checked for mistakes, slight swearing, denial of feelings

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The hum of the city filled Iwa’s ears as he stepped off the train, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. The crisp bite of autumn lingered in the air, sending leaves skittering across the pavement with every gust of wind. He wasn’t one for nostalgia, but there was something comforting about being back in Japan—like slipping on a well-worn hoodie you’d forgotten you owned.

Tonight wasn’t about nostalgia, though. It was about catching up with Mattsun and Makki. Their group chats were always lively, but seeing them in person had become a rare treat over the past few years. Life had pulled them in different directions—work, cities, even countries in Iwa’s case—but somehow, they always found their way back to moments like this.

As he rounded the corner, he spotted the bar, its faint golden glow spilling onto the street. It wasn’t the kind of place they’d have picked in high school—too grown-up, too polished—but it worked. They weren’t kids anymore, after all.

Iwa pushed the door open, the warmth of the room hitting him first, followed by the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. He scanned the booths, searching for familiar faces, until he spotted Mattsun already seated, nursing a beer and scrolling through his phone.

“Early, huh?” Iwa raised an eyebrow as he slid into the booth. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Mattsun?”

Mattsun looked up, his usual lazy grin spreading across his face. “Funny. I could say the same about you. Didn’t expect you to show up on time, Mr. California Dreaming.”

“Guess LA didn’t mess with my sense of punctuality,” Iwa shot back, shrugging off his jacket.

“Makki’s going to have a field day with that one.”

“Speaking of,” Iwa said, glancing toward the door, “where is he?”

As if on cue, the door swung open, and Makki strode in, his usual mischievous energy practically radiating off him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Makki said, plopping down next to Mattsun. “Traffic was terrible. And by traffic, I mean I didn’t feel like leaving my couch until five minutes ago.”

Iwa rolled his eyes. “Some things never change.”

“And thank God for that,” Makki said with a grin, flagging down a server. “Alright, let’s hear it. Who’s got the most interesting life these days?”

Makki leaned back, stretching his arms out. “Mattsun, let’s start with you. How’s the coffee shop going?”

“Coffee shop?” Iwa raised an eyebrow. “I thought you worked at the funeral home. Did I miss something?”

Mattsun shook his head. “Not anymore.” He took a leisurely sip of his beer. “Miyu and I started talking about opening our own business after college, but we couldn’t make it happen right away.”

“So you worked at the funeral home to save up some money?” Iwa asked, taking a sip of his drink. “Damn, Mattsun. Never saw that coming. Mr. Entrepreneur.”

“Imagine him yelling at the baristas about latte art,” Makki chimed in. “This life already sounds pathetic.”

“Nah,” Mattsun said, waving Makki off. “I’ll leave that to Miyu. I just make sure the money flows and the customers don’t riot when someone screws up their macchiato.”

“Macchiato,” Makki repeated, like the word was foreign to him. “Who even orders that stuff? What happened to plain old coffee?”

“It’s called taste, Makki. Maybe try developing some.”

Iwa laughed, shaking his head. “You two are exactly the same. Anyway, what about you, Makki? Still looking for a job?”

“Hell nah, man,” Makki replied proudly. “I’ve started freelancing. Got some gigs editing videos for mid-tier influencers. It’s not glamorous, but better than being unemployed. Plus, I can work in my pajamas.”

“So… no change from high school, basically,” Mattsun deadpanned.

Makki shrugged. “Hey, I’m happy. Besides, I don’t need to third-wheel you and Miyu anymore.”

Iwa chuckled, leaning forward. “You guys are hopeless. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to make it as a trainer.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Gym Rat,” Makki teased. “How’s that going? Adjusting to Tokyo life?”

“It’s good. Different, but good,” Iwa said. “I started as a trainer assistant for the Tokyo Great Bears. It’s nothing major, but it’s a foot in the door.”

“Dude, that’s not ‘nothing,’” Mattsun said, looking genuinely impressed. “You’re working for a pro team. That’s huge.”

“Yeah, but it’s a grind,” Iwa admitted. “I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’m hoping to work my way up in the next few years.”

“You will,” Makki said confidently. “You’ve always been the most determined out of all of us. No doubt you’ll be running the team before long.”

Iwa smirked. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’ll see.”

Makki raised his glass. “Alright, here’s to Mattsun’s coffee empire, my pajama freedom, and Iwa climbing the ranks of pro volleyball.”

They clinked their glasses, a comfortable silence settling over them before Makki’s grin turned mischievous.

“So,” he began, leaning forward, “speaking of volleyball… anyone heard from the old gang?”

Mattsun groaned. “Here we go.”

“What? It’s been ages!” Makki said defensively. “I mean, Kyoutani’s still semi-pro, right? Anyone know if he’s still terrifying his teammates?”

“More like terrifying his opponents,” Iwa said with a smirk. “Last I heard, he’s doing well. Finally found a coach who knows how to handle him.”

“Small miracle,” Mattsun muttered. “What about Kindaichi? Is he still playing?”

“He’s with the Tamaden Elephants,” Iwa said. “Pretty steady career path for him.”

Makki snickered. “Can’t say the same for Watari, though. Did you know he’s working at the Kanagawa Aquarium now?”

“For real?” Mattsun asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s he doing there? Dolphin wrangling?”

“Something like that,” Makki said, laughing. “And Yahaba? Last I heard, he’s a sports instructor now.”

“Figures,” Mattsun said with a shrug. “Always had that bossy streak.”

Makki’s grin widened as he leaned forward again. “Alright, last one. Shittykawa. What’s our favorite drama king up to?”

“Still in Argentina, still Oikawa,” Iwa said, shaking his head. “Signed another contract and is as smug as ever.”

“Of course he is,” Mattsun said, laughing. “Bet he sends you highlights of every match he wins.”

“Every. Single. One,” Iwa said with mock exasperation. “And don’t even get me started on the selfies.”

Makki burst out laughing. “Some things never change.”

“Nope,” Iwa said, raising his glass again. “And honestly? I’m okay with that.”

Makki leaned back, swirling his drink with a sly grin. “Alright, enough volleyball talk. Iwa, what’s the deal with you and Y/N?”

Iwa nearly choked on his beer. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” Mattsun chimed in, smirking. “Makki’s right. You’ve been glued to your phone every time we talk. And don’t think we didn’t notice the notifications lighting up during that chat about Oikawa.”

“Yeah,” Makki added, leaning in dramatically. “Spill. Who is she to you?”

“She’s just a friend,” Iwa said quickly, his tone firm but his ears betraying him with a faint pink hue.

“Oh, it’s definitely not just that,” Mattsun said with a chuckle.

Makki tilted his head, mockingly serious. “A friend, huh? Like the kind of friend you’d drive all the way to Osaka to meet?”

His stomach twisted uncomfortably. It had been days since she’d told him about her run-in with Hinata. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the fact that she’d been hurt again, or how badly he wanted to protect her from it all.

“She’s… different, okay? We met through a mutual friend. That’s it,” Iwa said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Different,” Mattsun echoed, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. “Wow, Makki, did you hear that? She’s different.”

“Totally different,” Makki agreed, nodding solemnly. “Definitely not the kind of girl you’d cross cities for, huh?”

Iwa groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Would you two shut up?”

It wasn’t a lie. She was different. From the first time they talked online, there’d been an ease between them, like they’d known each other for years. When she opened up about her past, about the wreckage Hinata had left behind, something in him had shifted. He wanted to be there for her—not because of romance. Or at least, he told himself it wasn’t about that. It was about trust. Respect.

Mattsun leaned back, crossing his arms. “Alright, fine. We’ll back off. But seriously, man, you’re dodging the question. Is there anything there, or are we imagining things?”

Iwa hesitated, fingers drumming lightly on the table. “She’s been through a lot. I’m just trying to be there for her, that’s all.”

Makki’s teasing grin softened, though the playful edge remained. “That’s sweet, Iwa. But you didn’t actually answer the question.”

“There’s nothing to answer,” Iwa said, too quickly. “She’s my friend. End of story.”

Because that’s all she could be, right? Anything more would be too messy. Too selfish. She didn’t need complications, not after everything she’d been through. And maybe he didn’t either.

“Right, right,” Mattsun said, exchanging a knowing look with Makki. “Whatever you say.”

Makki grinned, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it go—for now. “Alright, but when you need tips on how to confess your undying love, you know where to find us.”

“Or better yet,” Mattsun added, “just let us know when the wedding is so we can book our flights.”

Iwa shook his head, chuckling despite himself. “You two are impossible.”

“And you’re terrible at denying things,” Makki said, laughing. “But hey, that’s why we love you.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Iwa found himself distracted. His thoughts circled back to her. Maybe they weren’t entirely wrong. But whatever feelings he had, they were his to carry alone.

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notes ʚ

ʚ miyu is mattsun's girlfriend since high school

ʚ makki finally found a job but I think it will definitely change in the future

ʚ the career change for mattsun was a random thought

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next ʚ chapter six

previous ʚ chapter four

ʚ masterlist

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taglist ʚ @jojo23allegra @mjustag1rl @dazqa @gigiiiiislife

[cartoonbabbles]

Some Breakdown x Bumblebee headcanons since I’m watching Comodin Cam’s G1 marathon video and I’m seeing snippets of G1 breakdown

- I’m headcanoning BD and BB as both young adult (ish)? Like. Transformers maturity wise. Mid 20s is my guess, older than during the height of the war, still plenty of fight in them but they’ve lived enough to have a kind of routine between the two of them.

- BD puts on a cool and confident face for Bee’s sake. If he showed how scared he actually felt, Bee would have forced him to quit the race, and they’d both have gone into hiding. But he knows that both he and Bee like the thrill. It’s their thing

- Bee is slightly younger, BD is going through a crisis. (I mean why wouldn’t he be, he’s a fugitive and a war criminal, but no less than any of the other cybertronians, yet he’s somehow gotten the short end of the stick and doesn’t want to stay to find out what prison is like)

- Bee is super reassuring of how much he cares. Which is tough given how they ended up on opposite sides of the war.

- Bee can technically become a combiner limb. Does this make any sense? No. Fuck you, I want funny combiner shennanigans. Also Knockout can too (yes I’m throwing him in here). The poor other limb (likely Arcee) has to listen to her younger brother girlfail his way through coordinating movements while she’s the one doing the punching)

- Breakdown flusters easily, but likes to flirt and be seen as suave and as hot stuff. He’s a glass cannon and can dish it but can’t take a compliment without popping back into his alt-mode for a breather

- Bee (if they’re alone alone 100% for sure zero agents tailing them) is relentless in his flirting.

- Breakdown doesn’t actually have a driver’s seat. It’s all a hologram. He had a bad experience with a human who tried to drive him recklessly (scratched his new stripes too) so he figured out how to transform and not have any passenger seats on his own. It was painful, and Bee found him two days after a race he was scheduled to be at sulking in a cave, half transformed.

- this is more of a realization but I think the reason Bee started winning races was to take attention away from Breakdown. Notice how Schloeder never realized the same fucking muscle car barely tailing his black and yellow striped quarry

- I saw this funny post about spider man a few months back about how everyone knows who Spidey is or has some personal story with him, and rumors fly but you’ll never get anything if you pry. Same with Bee and Breakdown. Whispers of that time two drivers in sports cars flung their vehicles into a burning building and came out with seven people unharmed. A story about how a giant robot saved a kid from a rabid animal. Maybe a couple of voices deep in the woods comforting a crying teenager, telling them not to give up on asking the person they like out. Schloeder knows those stories are out there and it drives him nuts he can never get any first hand accounts

- Bee and Breakdown shared a garage in the Phillipines post war.

- Breakdown was sympathetic to the original Decepticon cause. He got involved more because the entertainment union took up arms with the original cries for revolution (he’s a Stunticon, and lord knows the Functionist senate didn’t give a damn about who got injured during a show)

- Breakdown painted the stripe himself. He wouldn’t stop bragging about it to Knockout and Bee. This lasted for a month. Knockout and Bee decided to get stripes to match (this is why Bee has stripes on his sports car mode)

- Bee has a human “sister” named Charlie in California he met during the war. She wasn’t a soldier or anything, they just hung out and vented to each other sometimes. One day, after Bee went into hiding, she was feeling bummed out and her car starts talking “yeah I miss him too.” The car was Breakdown. She gives him “the sibling talk” and is all like “if you dare hurt him or break his heart I swear-“ and all that and he’s genuinely scared of her bc he’s seen her disassemble and reassemble cars in her sleep (she did it to Knockout once on accident)

- Bee and BD have never kissed (AND THEY NEVER WILL UNLESS HES ALIVE HASBRO IM BEGGING YOU) but if they were to kiss it would have to rival Alex and Dot’s kiss to the mid season finale with that explosion of Purple Hearts behind them like. GIVE ME GAY MEN I DONT SEE ANY OF THEM BEING MAIN CHARACTERS IN CARTOONS ENOUGH.

- “Hi I’m Bumblebee and this is my boyfriend Breakdown and our husband Knockout and his boyfriend Starscream and his fiancé Soundwave and Soundwave’s friend with benefits who’s ace but still likes to get funky Shockwave and Shockwave’s ex Megatron who’s currently dating Elita and OP who are both married”

- Mo and Twitch ship Bee and Breakdown, though you never find out how they found out (it was Nightshade)

- Breakdown supports trans rights.

- most of the transformers do

- tangent but I feel it would be fucking hilarious if Shockwave were a queer ally but still fucking refuses to address the Terrans

- Breakdown once almost killed the governor of Florida (this one’s for me okay I need my catharsis)

- DW he didn’t but the dude resigned almost immediately after and kept seeing a muscle car coated in pride flag stickers at every stop sign for a month (Breakdown was bored)

- I’ll throw Tarn in here. Tarn has a good ass singing voice. That’s for funsies. Nobody invites him to karaoke though because people will literally do anything he says once he starts singing and that’s how Bee ended up with a tattoo on his (mic gets violently pulled away from me)

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairings: 10k x reader, Addy Carver × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, usual violence towards Z’s

Chapter: 5.05

People. Zombies. Bombs. Chaos.

Altura still hadn’t recovered from the bombing, and survivors were still scrambling to try and find their loved ones. You felt a sense of guilt knowing that some had lost everyone and everything, while you still had 10k and Red. Red was more concerned than either of you that Doc, Warren, and Murphy were nowhere to be seen, but you had a gut feeling they were gone but not dead.

“I’d bet any money the three of them will turn up soon. Murphy, no doubt caught up in something dangerous, he’ll drag the rest of them into.”

10k suddenly jolts up in the cot; it takes him a moment to gather his bearings. Once he realizes his place in your shared rent, he leans his head back, using his hand to grip the bedsheets before feeling for you.

“Do you feel any better?”

“A little,” he confirms. His voice was raspy from being in a deep sleep less than a minute before. “I had a dream we were still living out on the road, still on the mission to get that dickhead to California, and we kept encountering the same issues as before except this time we had a baby... I was useless. I could hold my own child or even take out a z; everyone had to do it for me.”

You lean forward and kiss the crown of his head. “You will be able to use your gun again; it will just take time to adjust.”

“You don’t know that.”

Seeing the doubt in his eyes, he said, “Yes, I do. Because I know the second you sense danger, your fatherly instincts will kick in, and protecting this baby will be the most natural thing in the world.”

He closes his eyes. “I hope so.”

You stand and offer him your hand. “Come on, once we’ve had breakfast, I’m going to help you practice.”

—

Behind the main buildings in Altura is a wooded area in which Red has set up a shooting range for 10k to practice his aim. So far, he has missed the tin can with every shot he has taken. The part of the hospital that had prosthetic limbs was destroyed during the bombing, and Sun Mei said it would be a while before new ones were made. He was given a leather pouch to cover his stump with a hook on the end of it, which was causing him to struggle to keep grip on his weapon.

“Just take your time,” Red says, reassuring him.

When 10K misses the target again, he lets out a hiss of pain. You motion to his stump and say, “Let me take a look.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine if you’re in pain.”

Knowing you wouldn’t let it go, 10k pulls down the leather pouch for you to inspect his stitches. The swelling was going down, but infection was weeping from the stitches. “You need to show Sun Mei and get more antibiotics.”

“Maybe you should take a break or use your left hand,” Red suggests.

“Just forget it.”

Red looks upset as 10k walks away. You place your hand on her shoulder and say, “Hey, thank you. It might not seem like it, but I know Tommy really appreciates everything you’re doing for him.”

She pulls you in for a hug. “I’m really scared; we are lucky we survived the first bombing. What if there’s another?”

“Then we do the same thing: keep each other safe.”

—

When you can’t find 10k in the medical bay, you go looking for him in the woods, but he spots you first. He puts his finger to his lips, signaling for you to remain silent, then waves you over. Crouching down beside him, you watch as two men shock a z with an electric baton, forcing it into one of the buildings, which looked empty aside from a few vans.

“What do we do?” You whisper.

“We gotta know where he’s taking it.”

You stay close to him as you make your way into the building. You jump back and grip onto his shoulder when Z's fingers peek through the crack underneath a large metal door, with metal chains covering the door as an extra precaution. 10k presses his ear against another securely locked door.

Quietly, you say, “It sounds like wild animals behind the doors.”

10k says nothing and leans back. Seconds later, a beeping sound fills the room, followed by the sound of a door opening and footsteps. 10k points to a large shipping truck, and you both crawl underneath it to avoid being seen.

From the spot you’re in, you notice Florida license plates on the back of the van in front. The man paces back and forth before eventually leaving the building.

You crawl out first, being careful so your stomach doesn’t rub against the concrete ground. You help 10K up and begin to dust yourself down, noting the fresh trail of mud tracks with traces of blood on the ground.

10k whispers, “We should go before—oh shit.”

A man’s voice comes from the opposite side of the truck. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

Not knowing where to go, you run to one of the other shipping trucks and climb into the back of it. When it starts to move slowly you ask, “Do we jump?”

Before you can make a decision, the back of the truck is facing the large metal doors, which are now unlocked, and a large ball made up of Z’s clutched together comes rolling towards you.

With no way of escaping, 10k points to the panels on the ceiling of the truck. “Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

—

You feel physically sick watching as 10k struggles to hold onto the wooden panel, which was the only thing keeping him from being devoured by the Z’s below. He was too far away for you to help him, and if you made any noise, the driver would hear it and most likely shoot the both of you.

When the truck comes to a sudden stop and the doors at the back open, allowing the Z’s to roll out of it, When the engine is turned back on, you both let go of the panels and jump down just as the truck starts to move off again, leaving the both of you deserted in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees. You sigh, noticing the pouch 10K had covering his wound was gone.

Even though you land on your feet, 10K is beside you with a worried look on his face. “Soon as we get to safety, we are done; no more adventures for either of us.”

You place your hand on your stomach and say, “As happy as I am that we have Doc and Warren back in our lives, I sometimes wish we never left the treehouse.”

—

“How far along do you think you are?”

Because of the bombing, you never got your scan. You tried to work it out, but since you didn’t track days, it was impossible to actually know. “Since I’m not showing, I’d say I’m still in my first trimester. Maybe in five or six weeks, what do you think?”

When you don’t get an answer, you look back and see 10k crouching down, looking at some footprints left in the dirt. “These are Doc and Warren's footsteps.”

Noticing a small hill, you run up it and see newly dug graves. Seeing a fairly clean bandana on the ground, you kneel down to get it. You wipe it off and give it to 10k; he ties it around his stump to keep it covered.

You study the graves and are thankful you don’t know any of the names carved onto the wooden crosses above each one. Hearing a faint, snarling noise, you turn to see a Z coming up behind you.

You stumble backwards, “Tommy!”

He grabs one of the wooden planks sticking out of the ground, snaps it, and then stabs the Z in the head.

“Eight thousand six hundred and nine.”

While getting to your feet, you notice a red mark on a wooden sign. “It looks like spray paint. Do we follow it?”

He nods.

While following the road, you notice a few more of the red marks left behind on trees. Luckily, it was only the odd Z you came across; 10K was trying to shoot and was swaying on its feet, walking in your direction. After several failed attempts, he uses the opposite hand and manages to shoot it in the head.

“Eight thousand six hundred and ten,” you smile.

—

Soon as you make it to a small town, you take cover behind a car with the same red markings on it. It was parked outside a building with distant music coming from it.

“Are you sure about this? What if it’s a trap?”

“I’ll go in first,” 10K says. “You keep a good distance behind me; if it’s safe, I’ll wave for you to follow.”

You plant a soft kiss on his lips and say, “Okay.”

A side door is open, so it’s easy for you to get inside.10k enters the building first, checking it was clear before waving you to follow. When you reach the room the staircase you’re walking down leads to, 10k goes in first. Sweat drips down your brow as you wait to hear his voice call out, and you let out a sigh of relief when you finally hear him again. “Oh my god,” he calls back to you. “Astra, it’s safe to come in; it’s Doc!”

The room is filled with red lights, giving the impression that it was a seedy nightclub. Soon as you walk in, you see 10k and Doc hugging, and you rush over to join them. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Doc; we've got so much shit we need to tell you! Are Warren and Murphy with you?”

“I’m glad you kids are safe.”

10k steps back from the hug first and taps you on the shoulder. “Uh, it’s your sister.”

You open your eyes, and for the first time in years, you see Addy standing before you. Her hair was much darker and longer than you remember, and from the glaze in her eyes, you could tell she was drunk.

“Hey sis.”

You stare at her speechless; nobody has ever broken your heart like she did, and seeing her again, smiling as if nothing happened, opens up the old wound you tried so hard to heal.

Hearing more steps approaching, your hand goes to a glass bottle sitting on the table next to you.

“Oh my god,” Warren says when she notices you. “You two have no idea how worried we were after hearing about the bombing.”

Warren sees your struggle to hold back tears and pulls you in for a hug and whispers, “I’ve got you, baby girl; I’ve got you.”

—

You look at Murphy suspiciously as he pours out drinks from behind a bar. He was dressed in a red suit, which matched his red skin. When he offers you a cup, you push it back and say, "No thanks.”

He grunts, “Not good enough for you, princess.”

Rolling your eyes, you walk over to join the rest of your group, sitting around a circle table. It felt weird to be with 10K, Doc, Warren, Addy, and Murphy at the same time again. George was there as well, but it still felt like old times.

You sit beside 10K, who was explaining what you saw. “Those vans are being loaded up deliberately. Somebody’s shipping a truckload of zombie tourists.”

“So you think it’s Altura?” Warren asks.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s where we saw the vans, but it could be anybody.”

While the conversation continues, Addy tries to make eye contact with you, but given the amount of alcohol you witnessed her drink, you pretended not to notice.

[ryeriy]

don't you remember?

warnings: mentions of sex, fluff

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a/n: the story is told from two different tine zones so yeah. this is inspired by one of my favorite songs called isn't it midnight by fleetwood mac and this is probably my favorite because of it. I'm going to link the song because it is so good.

mentions: @hischierhaze @67-angelofthelordme-67 @huggy-hischier94 @francesfarhadi @trevorzegrizz @cole-mcward48

5:06 PM, ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA

"Dude, I swear she's real! I saw her with my eyes! She's not fake!" Trevor exclaims at his brown-haired friend, who's laughing at him.

"She's not real Trevor, all you've told me is that you met her at a bar and had sex, you said you didn't even see her face and said she was pretty! You also said she was like a hippie and was qoute on qoute, calm, cool and collected. You don't even remember her name! She's not real! Wouldn't you think you'd remember a pretty girl?" He says while laughing at him. Laughing at how delusional he is sounding right now. "Jack, I'm not making this up! I had sex with her!" The delusional dark-haired one exclaims. "Whatever, you're lying." Jack sighs.

9:06 PM, PORTLAND, MAINE

"(Y/n)! You didn't have sex with THE Trevor Zegras. It's impossible!" Exclaimed a dirty blonde, beautiful, young women.

"Um I did! Remember when I went to Anaheim to see my sister? Well I came across an individual who happened to be him and I had sex with him!" I argued against the blonde. "Well yeah I look a bit weird and my personality is a bit questionable but that doesn't mean anything!"

"Well why didn't you get his number (y/n)?" She questioned me, I was looking clueless. "It was late Kat! I had to go to the airport to catch my flight!" "Yeah? Well you had enough time to screw each other but no time to exchange numbers?" Kat explained to me. "When was this anyways (y/n)?" She asked me. "Few months ago..." "And you didn't tell me till now! Jesus (y/n)! You claim you had sex with a famous hockey player and you don't think of telling me?!" Kat yelled at me for answers that I didn't have.

I explained to her what happened. Kat still denied to believe a single word that came out of my mouth. We kept arguing going back and fourth. The ding on her phone silenced the two of us. She checker her phone. "Oh that's weird." She said while making her face. "What is it now Kat?" I say while laughing at the face she made.

5:49 PM, ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA

"Ha! What a coincidence!" Jack says while pointing to his phone. "Yes?" Trevor questions him. "Well remember how I said I had this friend who lives in Maine?" He said. "What about her?"

"Well I texted her saying that you know, you keep blabbering about this girl who doesn't exist. She responded and said lol funny story. She told me that her friend, (y/n), and she is blabbering like you saying she was in Anaheim to vist family and she had sex with Trevor Zegras." Jack sighs.

"Can you ask your friend for her number?" Those are the words that slip from his mouth. "No I told you so?" Jack questioned questions. "What's. Her. Number." He repeats himself. "Fine, I'll ask her."

10:13 PM, PORTLAND, MAINE

"Oh my God, Kat! You will never believe this!" I jump up and down smiling so hard at my phone. "What?" She says while looking over at me. "He texted me! Trevor freaking Zegras texted me!" She rushes over to look down at my phone and she's in shock.

"I didn't think he would do it!" Kat says while sighing. "Do what?" I ask her. "Give him your number!" Kat wasn't making sense. Is she secretly friends with Trevor Zegras and decided not to tell me? "Wait are you friends with Trevor Zegras or something? Is that why he texted me?" I ask her. "No! My friend Jack is thoug-" I cut her off before she finished the sentence. "Jack Hughes?! You're friends with Jack Hughes and didn't mention it!?" I'm shocked. What else is she hiding, she's not Kat. "I didn't think I had to." She says while laughing. I sigh and laugh with her.

"Now, if you excuse me I have a very hot hockey player to talk to." I sa my while laughing and walking into my room. I heard Kat sigh as I walked into my bedroom. She probably turned on the TV or something for her.

6:30 PM, ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA

"Dude! She's actually texting me!" Trevor says to Jack. His face is bright red while he's looking at his phone. "I'll leave you to you it." Jack leaves the room and he leaves Trevor to be in love and fall for this girl he met once. The two started chatting for a long time, a really long time.

y/n <3

Hey, it's Trevor! I don't know if you remember me but we hooked up that one night. I just wanted to say I'm sorry that we didn't keep in touch but I'm texting you now so I hope you see this and we can talk :)

Hey! I'm y/n btw I don't think I introduced myself the first time we met. I'd love to keep in touch with you. You know when I first told people about our interaction they didn't believe me but since my friend, Kat is friends with your friend she had to believe me I guess lol.

Nice to meet you y/n. I was hoping we could talk. If you're not busy right now because if you're busy I can talk later but no rush.

I can tell you talk a lot.

Is that a bad thing?

No I like that about you :)

Thanks....so do you have time to talk...?

For you? Of course I do.

11:46 PM, PORTLAND, MAINE

I've been talking to him for just about an hour. I'm so in love with him already. We've been talking about almost everything you can talk about. All of the sudden a call notification pops up on my phone. Oh wow. I'm shocked. He's calling me. I pinched myself to make sure this whole thing wasn't a dream. I answer the call and hold my phone up to my War.

"Hello, (y/n)." I hear him say. I feel like I just melted from the overload of all this. I feel like a million butterflies were released into my stomach. I feel like my hear is going to explode from how fast it's pounding. "Hey." Is all I can say.

"How's it going pretty girl?" I can hear him smiling over the phone from California. He can probably hear me being a complete boy crazy mess for him.

"Good now that you called." I say while laughing at the end. I can hear him laugh along too.

"So, Jack was telling me his friend was from Maine. I'm assuming that's also where you live?" He asks. I still can't believe this actually happening to me.

"Yeah. She and I are roommates." I reply to him. I hear him let out an Mhm. I'm so anxious waiting for him talk again.

"Isn't it midnight for you? You know since your like on the other side of the world?" I laugh.

"Yeah almost. You do realize I'm not on the other side of the world? I'm just across the country." I say while laughing. I hear him let out a chuckle.

"Same thing." He says with a pause. "I'll let you go since you probably should sleep. I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah, talk to you later." I say back to him as I hang up. I smile while I bring my phone down from me ear. I'm so in love with him.