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television-overload · 4 months

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chance encounter

an X-Files Fanfic

Read on AO3

Summary: "Six months after becoming fugitives from the US government, Mulder and Scully have a chance encounter with someone that is very important to them."

Word Count: 6,556

Tag List (let me know if you want taken off or added!): @today-in-fic @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @mulderscully @perpetually-weirdening @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @slippinmickeys @teenie-xf @whovianderson

It was him.

There was no way to explain how he knew, but he did.

The little baby sitting in the puddle deep water at the end of the pool was William.

His hands, still chubby like they had been in his infancy, splashed excitedly, and Mulder could hear his squeals of delight over the sounds of the other children playing. An electric yellow swim shirt paired with a dinosaur-patterned bucket hat kept him shielded from the hot California sun, and he wore striped yellow and blue swimming trunks.

Mulder thought he'd never seen a swimsuit so small.

What were the odds that of all the places they could have traveled to, he was here?

They'd been on the road for 6 months, stopping at unremarkable motels and campgrounds all the way, never staying in one place for more than a few days at a time. It was a fluke they were even here at all.

Perhaps fate.

The hotel was certainly a step up from their usual accommodations, but Mulder had insisted. It was their anniversary, he said. Anniversary of what, Scully wasn't sure. The progression from coworkers to friends to lovers happened so gradually that it was hard to pin down a particularly important date for anything. But he wanted to celebrate, to find a brief reprieve from living in darkness, so they splurged a little on this modest, if slightly run-down, hotel by the ocean.

Where their son and his new family just happened to be vacationing.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about this possibility. In those nights where Scully was extra quiet, eager to fall asleep at the end of a long day, of course he'd lay awake and think, what if.

What if we found him? What if we saw our son again? What would we do?

The idea was so far-fetched that he hardly gave it any real consideration. His thoughts ranged from “steal him back, take him with us” to “pretend you never saw him and flee town.”

The urge to do the latter was strong. It was not safe here. They'd given him up for this very reason, what would be the point if their being here got him injured or worse? Was it really worth the risk to William? To Scully?

His next thought was 'Should I tell her?' Should he tell Scully he'd seen him? Would she want to see him too, even if from a distance?

The loss of their son had broken her heart. Broken his too, but not in the same way. She had spent months with him, almost a year, only to be forced to give him away with little time to prepare.

He knew she felt the loss like a phantom limb. Even all these months later, she still awoke with his name on her lips, panic written on her face as she looked around for him. It drove a stake through his heart every time, yet part of him felt he deserved it after leaving her to deal with it herself.

He watched the boy.

He'd only come out here to enjoy the sun, sit on one of the loungers for an hour or so while Scully took a nap in their room. It was a much more comfortable bed than they've had in a long time, though that wasn't saying much.

He hadn't bargained on having his whole world tipped upside down in the short time they were apart.

As stressful as it was, life on the road lended itself to relatively simple decisions. Fast food or canned? Motel or campground? Will you drive, or should I?

This was different.

Should he tell Scully?

The thought of keeping this from her made him feel sick. He couldn't do that.

Then again, would it hurt more to know? Ignorance is bliss, they say.

Mulder had never believed that, though.

The Truth, with a capital T, was the one thing that connected him and Scully. Though their beliefs and methods differed, they valued the Truth above all else. That was what drew them together. That was what propelled them forward, even now.

She had to know. She had to know her son was here, even if knowing might hurt.

She could make the decision for herself, whether she wanted to see him or get as far away from here as possible. It might be the last decision she makes as a mother, who would he be to keep that from her?

She might never forgive him.

Swallowing back emotion, Mulder stood to his feet, trying not to draw attention to himself as he made his retreat. His sunglasses thankfully hid the redness of his eyes, a small mercy in this endlessly unfair life.

He stole one last glance back at William. There was a chance this was the last time he'd ever see his son, his baby boy. If this was it, he'd treasure this moment for the rest of his life.

A woman dropped down beside William, showing him how to cup the water in his hands and throw it.

'A quick learner,' Mulder thought, watching as he gleefully tossed small handfuls of water in the air, giggling as it rained back down on him.

Okay. He could do this.

Find Scully. Tell Scully. Find Scully.

He rushed into the moldy-smelling hallway of the hotel, not bothering to take the elevator up to their floor. Instead, he took the stairs two at a time, finding himself out of breath by the time he reached the 4th floor.

He nodded politely at a passing family decked out in beach gear, not wanting to draw suspicion. Once they were gone, he gave a quick rhythmic knock on the door to let Scully know it was him, then slipped his key card into the slot to unlock it.

The room was still dark, the curtains drawn tight to block out the midday sun, and he could hear soft breaths coming from the lump on the bed.

His heart twisted involuntarily as it so often did when he looked at her.

“Scully,” he whispered, approaching the bed. “Honey, wake up.” He settled on the side of the bed, placing a gentle hand atop her shoulder and jostling her just so.

“Mm,” she hummed, curling into her pillow. A good nap, then. That was nice, at least.

He shook her again, saying her name a little louder. “Scully, you need to get up.”

This time her eyes opened, sensing the serious undertone to his words. He could tell she was waiting for bad news, for him to tell her they needed to leave again. Wanting to put her worries at ease, he tried to smile.

“What is it?” she asked, blinking at him in confusion.

“Uh—” he hadn't gotten this far in planning what to say. But she was waiting for him now, so he needed to say something quick. “Scully, I saw some people outside...”

“Government people?” she asked, sitting up suddenly, ready to start packing.

“No, not the government,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders soothingly. “Scully—it's William.”

He could see the moment his words hit her. She blinked, like she might think she was still dreaming, but she saw the truth in his eyes. Her expression shifted.

He wasn't sure what reaction he expected, but his first guess wouldn't have been anger.

“Did you know he would be here?” she asked, her voice laced with hurt and betrayal. “Mulder, I told you not to look into it! Why—Why would you...”

“I didn't know,” he promised, begging the tears in his eyes to keep from falling. He clasped her hands in his, pulling them from their grip on the fabric of his shirt. “Scully, I swear I didn't know. I was just out at the pool, and—”

“You're sure it's him?”

His heart broke looking at her. Equal parts hope and dread, she didn't deserve this.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure.”

She let out a shuddering breath.

“What do you think about that coincidence, huh?” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.

She shook her head.

“Mulder, we can't see him. It's not safe, it's not—”

“I know.” He didn't like interrupting her, but he didn't want her worrying unnecessarily about things she shouldn't. They had enough of that already, these days. If she didn’t think it was a good idea, he’d be okay with that. “We can leave, if you want. I just thought you should know.”

Her blue eyes met his, brimming with unshed tears.

“Is—Is he…?”

“He's beautiful, Scully,” Mulder answered her unspoken question. “He looks happy.”

She choked out a sob, and he immediately enveloped her in his arms, holding onto her tightly. She clutched at him like a life raft, and he ran his hand over her back in comforting circles, murmuring soft words into her ear.

“What do you want to do?” Mulder asked, knowing that time was ticking, and the little family might not stay out there much longer.

Scully sniffed.

“We could—we could go see him,” she said uncertainly, looking at him to decipher his thoughts on the matter. “From a distance.”

Mulder nodded, then stood, helping her to her feet.

“I'm with you,” he reminded her, grasping her hands tightly in his. “It'll be okay.”

With an arm slung around her shoulders, he led her out the door, this time opting to take the elevator down to the ground floor. Scully seemed nervous, almost frightened, and he didn't blame her. He tried to picture how he would feel if their positions were switched, and he couldn't imagine that he'd take it very well. Eventually, they reached the glass doors leading out to the outdoor pool, pausing for a moment.

“They can't see us,” Scully warned, looking anxious and ready to bolt, but she was glued to his side and scarcely able to move without his guidance. He nodded and took her hand, leading her out to a couple chairs in the corner, hopefully obscured enough by the shadow of the fence that they wouldn’t be seen. That bright neon shirt was still there, easy to spot, and Mulder felt tears rising to his throat again. This was the first time they had all three been in the same vicinity since those first few days when he was born.

He squeezed her hand, checking one last time to make sure she was okay. She searched his eyes, trusting him wholeheartedly, and he was certain he had never loved her more.

“Over there,” he said in a low whisper. “With the little hat on.”

Scully followed his line of sight, gasping when her eyes settled on the playful baby in the water.

What followed next was a sob, and he quickly lost his battle with the tears that stubbornly refused to go away. He wrapped his arms around Scully, offering her what solace he could, while his own chin wobbled miserably.

She alternated between sneaking glances at her son and crying into his shirt collar, muttering “Mulder,” desperately as he rocked her back and forth, his hand smoothing out her hair for her comfort as much as his own.

He couldn’t watch anymore. Seeing her like that... it made it hard to stay strong, but he needed to be. For her. He closed his eyes, pleading with the universe never to give her this kind of pain ever again.

When he opened them again, his stomach dropped to the floor.

The woman he'd seen earlier was looking at them, her eyebrows pinched in concern.

He cursed under his breath, his arms tightening around Scully. She was in no state to leave. The best they could do was avoid eye contact and keep to themselves.

But it looked like that wouldn't be enough.

The woman, William's adoptive mother, whispered something to the man she was with, nodding in their direction. His concerned face matched hers, and he nodded. With a sickening lurch, Mulder realized she was getting out of the water, wrapping herself in a towel and heading toward them.

It was too late. They'd been made.

“Scully,” he said, alarm creeping into his voice. She only had a moment's warning before the woman was there, glancing down at them with a worried frown.

“Is she alright?” William's mother asked, empathy oozing from her.

Mulder hurried to compose himself, knowing Scully was a lost cause at this point. It would be on him to get them out of this.

“She's fine, sorry,” he managed to speak, wracking his brain for a believable excuse. Best to stick close to the truth. “We—We can't have children, so—” he nodded toward their son, hoping she could fill in the blanks.

Looking behind her at the boy in the water, her face eased into one of understanding.

“Oh, I know how that feels,” she said, smiling consolingly. “Our son over there is adopted. Every day we thank God for blessing us with him. He's our little miracle.”

Scully grips him tighter, barely restraining a mournful wail. His heart sinks, knowing this interaction isn't going well at all.

He presses a desperate kiss to her hair, wishing he'd never exposed her to this pain. Wishing they were alone in the confines of their hotel room or car so she could let it all out without arousing suspicion. Wishing this woman, as kind-hearted and friendly as she seemed to be, would leave them alone.

“Are you sure she's okay?” she asked Mulder, brows furrowing again.

His hand rubbed up and down Scully's shoulder, and he nodded. “She will be. This is—hard for her.”

“Okay,” the woman said, not sounding fully convinced. “Let me know if there's anything I can do. Like I said, I've been where she is.”

“Thank you,” Mulder choked out, eyes flitting about, looking for their escape.

Through the gate. Through the hotel. Down to the beach.

“Oh, sorry,” William's mother spoke, turning back instead of leaving. “I never introduced myself. My name is—”

“No!” Scully stopped her, looking suddenly panicked and alert.

The woman startled at the outburst, jumping back slightly.

“Mulder, we can't know,” Scully said, looking pleadingly at him. “We can't know anything, we can't!”

“It's okay,” he said softly, coaxing her back from the edges of a total breakdown. “It's okay.” He looked back up at William's mom, smiling an unconvincing smile. “I think we'd really better get going. It was nice talking to you,” he said as he helped Scully to her feet. “Come on, hon, back to our room.”

It was hard to move quickly with Scully desperately clinging to him, but it wasn't the first time they'd been in this position. Once they got back inside, he'd run her a nice warm bath and apologize over and over for everything he'd ever done to hurt her.

They just. Had to. Get. Through—

“Wait.”

He froze.

“You're—You're his parents, aren't you? The ones who gave him up?”

Ice water filled his veins. He could feel Scully shaking like a leaf under his arm.

“We really should be going—” he tried, refusing to turn back around.

Her voice was closer now. “You are. I—there's so many things I've wished I could ask you. At least let me thank you. Please.”

Against his better judgement, he risked a glance back.

“Mulder, we have to go,” Scully begged, now standing on her own and pulling him by the hand. His feet were rooted to the ground, unable to take a single step forward or back.

“Just wait a minute, Scully,” he said, his brain running a mile a minute to calculate the amount of danger each potential course of action held.

He met the woman's eyes, serious.

“Look, this is not easy for her. For us. Our situation right now is—” his eyes scanned around for anything out of place, “We—We really shouldn't be talking to you.”

The woman stepped closer still, a pleading expression on her face.

“It was a closed adoption, I know. But—”

“I'm sorry. We can't.”

Scully looked exhausted, frightened, and sick all at once. Every second they stood there chipped away at her, the anxiety sinking deeper and deeper into her skin.

“You're right about one thing,” Mulder conceded, glancing over at his son and drinking in his unconcerned, innocent features.

The next words nearly choked him with sorrow.

“He is a miracle.”

They were meant to be parting words, a reminder to this woman to never take what she has for granted, but before he could move, a hand landed on his forearm, effectively stopping him.

“We'll let you see him,” the woman offered desperately, near tears herself. “Please. Just a few moments.”

And with that on the table, Mulder was torn.

On the one hand, this woman had offered them something invaluable: a chance to say goodbye, something they hadn't been able to do properly the first time.

On the other hand, it would be selfish. To put their son and his new family in danger simply because they got caught in a moment of weakness... it was unfathomable. He couldn't be responsible for more suffering. He didn't think he could bear it.

“Please?” the woman said again, squeezing his arm.

He had a decision to make. Glancing once more at Scully's crumpled face, he caught sight of the slightest hint of hope. A barely-there gleam that he'd tear down earth and heaven for the chance to brighten.

His decision was made for him.

Cursing his lack of willpower, he turned suddenly to meet the woman's eyes.

“Not here,” he whispered sternly, pointing in her direction. “Give us half an hour, then come to room 409.”

“409,” the woman repeated, nodding. “We will.”

Mulder hardened his jaw, giving one final nod before collecting Scully and hurrying off into the building without another glance back.

“This is dangerous, Mulder,” Scully said worriedly as they passed through the hall, though he knew deep down she was relieved that she might get to see her son again. He only hoped that this risk would be worth it, that they'd be able to find some semblance of peace here and leave feeling less like a part of them was missing when all this was over.

As soon as they entered their room, Scully broke down.

“Oh my god, Mulder,” she gasped, crouching low to the ground and covering her face with her hands.

He immediately dropped to his knees to help her up, ushering her over to their bed.

“Did you see him? He's gotten so big.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, a mix of happy and sad, and though he'd known Scully and her nonverbal cues for so long, he still wasn't quite sure what she needed right now.

“Yeah, I saw him, Scully,” he answered, pulling her into his lap and rocking her gently.

“Do you think they'll really come?” she asked, hopeful, but hesitant.

“We need to be prepared in case they don't,” he answered realistically, thinking of an entire squad of police cars surrounding the hotel with their flashing lights and sirens. “I can pack up the toiletries, you got the suitcase?”

She nodded, grateful to have something physical to do.

Mulder checked his watch. Twenty-five minutes. If they didn't come in twenty-five minutes, it was time to get out of dodge.

“I love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then her lips. “I love you, Scully.”

“I love you too,” she answered, breathing deeply to calm herself. Checking one last time to make sure she was okay, he nodded and released her, each to their own assignments to ensure they were ready to make a quick escape if need be.

As the minutes passed, they became restless. They watched the clock, counting down the seconds until they should have arrived.

Their cutoff time came and went. Mulder was about to call it and give the signal to run, already gathering bags and suitcases, but the subtle knock on their door stopped him in his tracks. He held up a finger to his lips, gesturing for Scully to stay quiet while he checked the peep hole.

The sight before him caused his shoulders to slump in relief.

“It's them?” Scully asked hopefully, reading his body language.

He gave a cautious smile back, then unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

There they were, William’s adoptive parents.

And William.

It nearly took his breath away.

This close. They were this close to him, after thinking they’d never see him again. He felt like a dehydrated man in a desert stumbling upon an oasis when he was sure he was going to die.

“Hi,” the woman said, looking more uncertain now that they weren’t out in the open. Her husband looked similarly guarded, but they were here, that was all that mattered.

“Uh, come in,” Mulder said, finding his voice.

He stepped aside to allow them entrance, and Scully immediately stood from her seat on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands in front of her.

“I promise we’re not here to take him,” he assured them, closing the door behind them. “As much as we wish we could.”

Once the door was secure, he went to stand by Scully, placing a hand on her back.

“We were just passing through, I couldn’t believe it when I saw him sitting there in the pool.”

The woman nodded, still a little tense, but wanting to believe him.

“Small world,” her husband said, standing protectively next to his wife and child.

Mulder nodded.

“Look, there’s not much information we can give you. For his safety and yours, this is the way it had to be.”

“I always wondered where he came from,” the woman said. “I thought maybe a teen mom, or someone who just couldn't take care of him, but, you—”

“He was always wanted,” Scully spoke, finally able to speak for herself. Her voice came out strained, gasping for air between words. “I prayed for him for so long.”

Mulder's hand found hers, giving it a squeeze to lend her some of his strength.

“He was our miracle.”

The woman looked down, saddened by this news.

“But you were right,” Scully continued, steadying her voice. “We couldn't take care of him. Our life—it isn't stable enough for a child right now. It might never be again. So, I gave him up.”

“Didn't you have a family member who could have taken him? A friend?” the man asked. “Why a closed adoption?”

Scully shook her head, looking down at her feet. How she had wished she could have sent William to live with Bill and Tara, maybe even Charlie. But it wouldn’t have been enough. It would have only endangered more people she cared about.

“That's something we can't disclose,” Mulder answered for her. “But someday, when he asks, I want him to know...” He breathed, summoning the strength to form the words. “I want him to know that we loved him... so much.” With each breath he took, tears filled his eyes, clogging his throat until he wasn't able to speak anymore.

They would always love him, for as long as they lived. Giving him up wasn't going to change that.

“Well,” William's new mom said through tear filled eyes. “I can't tell you how much it means to us to have him.” Scully bowed her head, nodding along with a steady stream of tears. “I promise to take good care of him. He'll be safe and happy with us.”

“Thank you,” Scully whispered, unable to look the man and woman in the eyes.

“We've been worried about him,” Mulder admitted, “hoping he was alright...” He checked in with Scully, reading her like he was so good at doing, before deciding it was safe to speak for them both. “I think, seeing that he is... is a huge weight lifted off our shoulders.”

Scully gave a nod in agreement, looking up at Mulder with something of a promise. A promise that they would be okay, eventually.

“I can't imagine what you must have gone through,” the woman said. “But we are so thankful. He—I don't suppose you want to know his name?”

“No,” Scully said quickly. “I—we can't. I couldn't handle the temptation.”

The temptation to track him down, just for the chance to see him again. That was a dream that could never be.

“What did you call him?” the woman asked, and Mulder squeezed Scully's hand again, letting her know it was okay. It was a common enough name, there couldn’t be any harm in telling her the truth.

“William,” she answered. “His name was William.”

To hear it spoken aloud after all this time was a relief. It had been almost taboo the past six months, too painful a word to be uttered. But now, there was something freeing about letting his name hang in the air.

Letting go, Mulder realized. They had to let him go.

“Well...” the woman began again, smiling at them reassuringly. “William is such a bright and curious child. He loves building towers out of blocks and throwing things at it to knock it down. He—He has this stuffed fox he takes everywhere. They're practically inseparable. His first word was 'mama'. He likes watching baseball and hockey with his dad. He—He's everything we could have hoped for, and more. So, thank you. Thank you for making such a beautiful child for us to love.” Her eyes shone with happiness, the kind which Scully wondered if she’d ever felt. “I knew you had to be remarkable people, because he's a remarkable child.”

“And now we know where he gets those lips and that hair from,” the father added, lightening the mood as much as possible, under the circumstances. “He's covered in sunscreen, must be your genes,” he said, nodding at Scully with a smile. And wonder of wonders, she laughed, a sudden, unexpected thing, and leaned into Mulder's side.

“We should let you go,” Mulder said after a moment, hating that it had to be done. “We'll need to be heading out soon.”

“To where?”

“We can't tell you that.”

Will's adoptive father's eyes met those of his biological one, and a look of understanding passed between them.

Adjusting her hold on William, the woman spoke, glancing between them as she did.

“I wouldn't feel right if I didn't give you a moment with him.”

Scully's head snapped to attention.

“You've already sacrificed so much,” she continued, “And I trust you. You're doing what's best for—for William. I know you have his best interests at heart.”

Mulder wished, wished, wished he could honestly say it was in William's best interests to be with him and Scully... but it wasn't. The truth of their reality was such that it could never be. Not through any fault of their own as parents—but because of external forces working against them, desperate to tear them apart and leave them with nothing.

But they had failed.

Because what they had was more than nothing. They had each other. And though they would have to live with the knowledge that a part of them was missing, maybe after today they would be able to make peace with what they do have. To live life to the fullest given the circumstances they've been forced to survive in.

In truth, he hadn't felt this hopeful about the future since the moment Scully first placed his son in his arms. There was still a mountain of hardships to surmount, but it didn't seem quite as impossible as before. And it was all thanks to a chance encounter with their son, at the precise moment they needed him most.

“We'll leave you be,” Will's mother spoke, checking with her husband to make sure he agreed. “If you need us, we'll be downstairs having some coffee.”

Scully's brows slanted in worry. “You don't have to go, it's okay,” she said, wanting to stop them.

“You deserve some time alone,” the woman said kindly, shaking her head. “I can see how much you need it, dear.”

Scully's chin wobbled, dangerously close to another round of tears.

And then she was coming toward them, William perched on her hip. She deposited him right into Scully's disbelieving arms, and Mulder immediately felt his throat close, the sight one he'd seen almost every night in the most heart wrenching of his dreams.

This was what he'd hoped to come home to after his time in the desert. This was what kept him sane between bouts of torture in a prison cell. To see it now was equal parts fulfilling and painful.

“I can give you something, a guarantee we won't run off with him,” he choked out, working to free his wrist from his moderately expensive watch. William's dad reached a hand out and stopped him.

“We trust you,” he said with a sad smile. “We'll be back in an hour. Please, take all the time you need.”

And with that, they left the room.

As soon as they were gone, Scully's head dropped to rest against the strawberry blond locks of their son, and she let out a sob.

“William,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his head. He seemed unfazed, and part of Mulder wondered if he still remembered her. If deep down, he knew this was the woman who had once fed him from her own body, sung him to sleep in an off-tune melody, soothed him when he had nightmares...

It wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

The same couldn't be said for him, however.

“I can't believe this, Mulder,” Scully cried, her tears falling into his downy-soft hair. Mulder led her back to the bed, sitting beside her with their son on her lap. “Did you hear what they said? He's so much like you, watching sports on TV, knocking his blocks down... He'll be throwing pencils at the ceiling in no time.”

That brought a small smile to his face, and he leaned to his right to press a kiss to Scully's forehead, his hand falling into place on their son's back.

William leaned away, taking in the new faces with a curious tilt to his head.

“Hey, bud,” Mulder said, offering him a finger to hold. For all the time he'd spent thinking of what he'd say to his kid if given the chance, he was coming up short now that he was face-to-face with the reality. “I missed you so much,” he managed to say, “And look how much you've grown!”

William reached out, holding his hands up in front of him, and Mulder's heart leapt. Glancing at Scully for permission, he slid his hands under his arms, lifting him to his chest and nuzzling him close.

“Oh, Scully,” he said, beginning to cry again, feeling the weight of William on his chest, real and tangible. “Sometimes I thought it was all a dream. But we have a son.”

It was hard to think of him out in the world, when he was hardly more than an idea. But now—he had face to put to the name, a personality to remember. He had a son.

She nodded, watching them with a watery smile. He pulled back just to look at him again, to memorize those chubby cheeks and the way he smelled. The precise shape of his eyes, their color, still the same as his mother's.

“I'm so glad we stayed here, Mulder,” Scully whispered. “To think I tried to talk you out of it...”

“Fate was working its magic, Scully,” he said, cutting her off. “This was meant to be.”

For the next hour, they played on the floor together, using Mulder's keys as a toy to hold William's attention. He was walking now, and took turns toddling between them, excitedly holding the TV remote in one hand and squealing when they praised him for successfully making it without tripping or falling.

For a while, they could almost forget this wasn't real. That they weren’t on borrowed time, already risking things they shouldn't be for this blissful moment of being a family.

Mulder got to see Scully as a mother. She saw him as a father. Finally, they had the chance to step into those roles, feeling fulfilled in ways they never could have imagined. It went far beyond any truth that once lay hidden in the X-Files. Nothing in that office of theirs could have given them purpose like this. Only each other, and the life that was formed out of the love that was sparked right there in the basement of the Hoover building so many years ago.

Mulder had always wondered how it would sound to hear the words “da da da” come from a child's mouth, and to know they meant him. Though his babbling wasn't intentional, merely a repetition of the same syllables “da” and “ma” over and over again, he was soaking it in. Committing it to memory. Praying—because only something like this could drive a man like him to prayer—that his son would think about him. Would think about his mother. That he'd grow to know and understand and appreciate the heartache they suffered at giving him away.

That maybe he'd love them too, despite never knowing them.

And maybe.

Maybe.

One day, they'd see each other again.

It was getting late. Scully could tell it was past William's bedtime. She laid him on their bed, and laid down beside him on her stomach, content just to look at him and be near him for however much time they had left.

Mulder joined her on the other side, resting a hand on top of William's gently rising and falling belly.

“I love him more than I ever knew was possible,” he whispered, and noticed as Scully wiped away a tear.

“It hurts, knowing we have to say goodbye.”

Mulder nodded, reaching a hand over William to rub circles on Scully's back.

“But not as much as it hurt before.”

Mulder remembered how Scully screamed, when he first found her in that dirty, abandoned house in Georgia.

“Don't take my baby. Please don't take my baby.”

It was different now.

This time, it was on their own terms. Their curiosities were satisfied, the things they always would have wondered about.

Who he resembled more. What his voice sounded like. His smile and his laugh when he was happy. The way he scrunched his face when he wasn't.

But above all else: would he be okay?

And now that they knew without a doubt that he was? They could let him go.

As much as any parent could let go of a piece of their soul, their own flesh and blood.

He would always be a part of them. They would always wish things could have gone differently. But at least now, Mulder had had a chance to say goodbye. At least Scully wasn't being forced to leave him with little warning, worrying that she was abandoning him to an unknown fate.

A blanket of peace fell over this humble, outdated hotel room. And for the last few minutes they would spend as parents together, Mulder and Scully counted themselves lucky. For this time was a gift, far more than they could have ever hoped to receive.

The same knock from earlier sounded, and a heavy feeling settled in Mulder's chest. He dragged himself away from the bed, while Scully lifted the sleeping William into her arms and held him close.

“How did he do?” their son's mother asked, looking perfectly at ease in a way that calmed and reassured him.

“Great,” Mulder answered. “He—He's perfect.”

The time had come. Scully knew it too. They'd already stayed longer than they should have. He knew there was a long night of driving through pitch darkness ahead of them, and he really, really didn't want to go.

But he had to do what was right for his son. That was all he ever wanted to do, as a father. He just didn't want to be the one to break Scully's heart all over again.

“I guess this is it,” Scully said, sounding calmer than he would have expected. He knew her, though, and he could see the emotions brewing beneath the surface.

It would be a tearful night for both of them.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” she said to William's new mom, stepping fatefully toward her. But before she could pass him over, she paused, looking down at him for the last time in her own arms. “William?” she spoke, her voice strained. “Mommy loves you.”

“Daddy loves you too, baby boy,” Mulder said, never having referred to himself as such before, but wanting to know how it felt.

He cupped the sleeping child's head, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and then another, not able to convince himself that each would be the last.

“I'm so sorry, William. Be good for your mom and dad, okay?”

Scully leaned against him, her strength beginning to wane.

“Goodbye,” she said, kissing him desperately all over, playing with his socked foot and each of his tiny fingers. “I want to believe I will see you again someday.”

As they passed him over, together this time, William's new parents smiled tearfully.

“If—If he suddenly gains an interest in Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster,” Mulder began in a worried, cautionary tone, “just buy him some picture books. He'll be okay.”

Though it easily could have been a joke, no one laughed. In fact, the man and woman nodded, taking his advice to heart. He felt better knowing their son would be accepted, no matter who he grew up to be. The child of the FBI's most unwanted was sure to be a bit of a loner.

“And tell him he'll grow into his nose. Sort of,” he added, this time eliciting a small smile from Scully.

“I promise, we'll tell him every day how loved he is,” the woman vowed. “I'm glad we met you.”

“I'd call it a God-given miracle,” the man said, and he reached out a hand to Mulder to shake. “Stay safe,” he said, then catching sight of Scully's necklace. “We'll be praying for you.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

Mulder's arms suddenly felt empty. He could see Scully felt the same, wrapping hers around her own torso just for something to hold. He enveloped her in an embrace, holding tight to keep both her and himself from chasing after them.

“Bye,” the woman said over her shoulder, her worried eyes unwilling to turn away from the sad couple they'd met. She gave a small, consoling smile, and lifted William's pudgy hand to wave goodbye.

Mulder and Scully waved half-heartedly in return, smiling as genuinely as they could, and watched as they disappeared through the door.

Once they were gone, Scully turned into Mulder's chest and held tight. His cheek rested on top of her head, and they swayed, silent but for the sound of the ocean nearby.

“We're gonna be okay,” Scully said at last. “Mulder—”

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes with sincerity and love.

“We're gonna be okay.”

#x files #txf #xf fanfic #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #msr #msr fanfic #post-series #the truth #william mulder #jackson van de kamp #chance encounter

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cordiformpink · 4 months

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tickles!! no names, so imagine whoever you'd like :)

he's dozing a little, when she finds him. stretched out on his bed on his stomach, arms folded, head pillowed on them. warm yellow light blankets the room and casts gentle shadows in the creases of his faded pyjamas. half an hour has passed since he claimed he was going to go get in the shower, and she didn't hear the water run once during that time. no surprises, then, when she finds him like this.

as cute as his impromptu napping is, it can't be allowed to continue. he's got things to do, and she'd hardly be a helpful partner if she didn't prompt him to get back on track with his day. still. he is cute. and there's really only one way such a cute boy ought to be woken.

she moves quietly, footsteps soft, gliding, nearly, until she's kneeling on the bed beside him. he hasn't stirred. her hand rests first on his back, stroking down his spine until he sighs in bliss. she slides her hand across his lower back then, rubbing circles there, feeling the way he begins to stir at her touch. he's half-awake, and shows it in the catlike arch of his back.

"like that, do you?" she smiles. she knows that he does. he likes all of this.

her other hand joins the first. she smooths them over his soft shirt to rest on his sides. then, she starts to tickle.

he twitches, jerks, letting out a quiet giggle.

"hiii," she says, voice soft and smile-shaped.

he tries to say it back, but her hands dart an inch upward and squeeze, and he cuts his own voice off with a surprised squeak and a second stream of giggles.

"mmm, i don't think so. i think it's my turn to do the talking. see, you told me you were off for a shower." her fingers begin to walk up his sides, each fingertip settling and giving a tiny wiggle before the next moves. "and yet, here you are, not showered."

he's holding as still as he can, and she can feel him nearly trembling with the effort to do so, but he twitches helplessly at the little presses of her fingertips. she walks her fingers to a stop, resting over his ribs. she pauses there for a few moments, watching him try not to squirm with anticipation, caught between one breath and the next, hardly daring to move.

"now. got anything to say for yourself?" she asks.

a beat passes while he summons his excuses. "well, i-"

she digs her fingertips into his ribs. whatever explanation he was planning to give is lost entirely as he shouts with surprised laughter.

she grins. his ribs are a bad spot, and she knows just how to get him best there. she wriggles her fingertips into the spaces in between his ribs, following the gentle curve of each one and poking into the ticklish flesh there until he jerks and bucks and shrieks. the giggles are pouring out of him now as he squirms and twists, face prettily flushed. though she knows he doesn't mean to, he twists over onto his side, curling up in defence of his sensitive ribs.

it doesn't help, of course. her hands are already there, and they follow him, so that his attempts to shield himself only serve to keep her hands pressed close. she gives him a moment's reprieve to contemplate his situation before she starts to tickle him again.

his laughter fills the room, and her own little giggles of delight join it. there's nothing quite so lovely as this.

he's breathless and on his back the next time she pauses, and she's leaning so far over him that she decides it'll be easier to straddle him instead, so she does.

he gazes up at her, smile so wide it warms her heart, eyes bright.

"more?" he asks, shyly hopeful.

she leans down and presses a soft kiss to his mouth.

then, she begins again.

written once again about my obscure fandom loves, and made vague so others can enjoy. if you do want to know the characters i had in mind when writing, pls ask!

#sfw tickling #soft tickles #sfw twords #tickle community #tickle scenarios #cordie's fic #vaguefic

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yn-ymn-yln · 2 years

Text

The Loner and The Freak

Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 1247

Summary: After a run in with the high school cheer squad you go to the only person who makes you feel safe.

*Hurt/Comfort and Fluff*

*Eddie really got me back on my bullshit huh?*

“Stop running LONER!”

“Yeah! We just want to talk! Come on!”

Prey… that’s what you were.

Tearing through the woods as fast as your feet would carry you, you don’t glance back to your pursuers, knowing the distance between you and them was growing smaller with each labored breath you took. You imagine this is what the gazelles on national geographic must feel like, eyes wide and searching for an escape, minds muddled with lost hope that they could avoid being someone else’s dinner.

Maybe that’s how this was meant to end. The script you couldn’t see would clearly have printed local loser gets mauled by relentless cheerleaders.

Ducking behind a tree, you quiet your presence as much as you can. Sparing one of your hands wrapped around your knees, you clamp it over your mouth, ears listening for any sounds indicating you weren’t alone. The snapping of branches in the distance tells you they’re close, but not close enough to warrant you bolting out of cover.

“You know you can’t hide forever Y/l/n! If we don’t find you now, we’ll just wait for you at school tomorrow!”

“Is this really worth it?” You almost scoff at the bored tone of the teenage girl. Obviously tormenting you wasn’t as entertaining as she thought. “… All I’m saying is we could be doing something better than running through the woods.”

“Fine! God, you both suck.”

The retreating footsteps of pristine white sneakers sends your frantic heartbeat into a some-what more casual rhythm. As silence fills the air around you once more, you finally allow your defenses to crumble. Trembling hands and harsh pants wrack your frame as your fear manifests itself with thoughts of what could have happened. Images of bloody noses and bruised knuckles play through your mind, while taunting voices promising that no one cared enough to come for you were looping endlessly. The cycle only breaks when the chilled February air caresses your frame, reminding you of the slowly sinking temperature. Winter in Hawkins had never been kind, even less so to the unfortunate souls that found themselves sobbing on the damp leaves still present from a season long since passed.

Dragging your sleeve over your eyes, you collect yourself as much as you can, taking off in the direction of the one person you knew would keep you safe.

Eddie.

Your savior sits on the steps in front of his trailer, cigarette hanging lazily between his lips, face cast towards the last remnants of fading sunlight. You watch from a distance as his eyes close in contentment, soft brown taking a reprieve from the retched world surrounding him. He doesn’t notice your approach at first, fingers drumming on the exposed skin of his ripped jeans, thoughts far away from you and your endless troubles, but when he does? You swear he becomes his own sun.

“There you are! I waited for like an hour, figured you forgot and walked home.” Without acknowledging his words, you slam yourself into his warm embrace. Face pressed so close to his heart you almost don’t detect the worry in his tone. “You okay sweetheart?”

No.

“Y/n?”

What made you so inferior to everyone else?

“I hate them.” Your voice is wrecked, but it’s almost unnoticeable through the fabric of Eddie’s hellfire shirt.

“Hate who? What happened?” He tries to back away from you, wanting distance to get a peak at your face if only to reassure himself that you weren’t hurt. “Baby?” The cracks in your dam deepen, chunks of concrete chipping away until suddenly it collapses, sobs rip through you at such a rate you worry you’ll make yourself sick.

“I H-hate them so m-much.” He tightens his grip then, pulling you as close to his body as he can, shielding you from everything and everyone.

“Hey, shh, shh, you’re okay baby. I’m right here.” He lets you take your time calming down, gently rocking you back and forth until your breathing evens out. “There’s my pretty girl, why don’t we go inside? Maybe lay down for a bit?” you nod your approval, allowing him to lead you towards his room. You swear these four walls are magic, maybe its just the traces of Eddie you can find anywhere you look, or the memories you made here together, pieces of each of you scattered around the messy space.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed, kneeling in front of you to finally get a good look at the person he fell in love with, the concern radiating off of him is palpable.

“Talk to me sweetheart.” You worry your lip as you gaze into his eyes. Words getting stuck in your throat momentarily before your forcing them out.

“I’m exhausted Eds. I’m so fucking tired of being hated for everything I do. Why can’t they just leave me the hell alone?” Frustration bubbles up within you, causing you to rub at your face roughly. “I know I shouldn’t let it get to me. I know it’ll only feed their fire, but how long am I expected to run without a damn break?” Eddie wasn’t new to the cheerleader’s insistence on nagging you, though it had never gotten you this worked up before, he knows everyone has their limits. At that he brings you closer, noses brushing as his eyes gaze into yours. He doesn’t speak for a moment, instead he lets his closeness soothe some of the ache in your heart.

“I’m always here Y/n, no matter what. When things are too much, come get me. I may not be able to kick the cheer squad’s ass but I sure as shit can egg their houses.” You can’t fight the smile that slowly blooms on your features, the ridiculousness of your boyfriend’s statement mending a piece of your soul.

“Promise?”

“Oh, baby I’ll go buy a dozen eggs right now if you want.” The infectious happiness that seems to follow Eddie around like a shadow never ceases to amaze you. Especially now, as your thrown back with the force of your laughter, despite crying only minutes ago. He chuckles with you, running his fingers over your forehead from his position on the ground. “I love you. You know that right?” His smile never falters, though you pick up the undertone of guilt at the edge of his voice.

“Edward Munson, no one and I mean no one has ever made me feel as loved as I do with you. and I love you too” Eddie clambers unceremoniously onto the bed then, burrowing into your neck as his arms wrap around you. his hair tickling you as he gets comfortable.

“We’re gonna get out of this shithole soon. Run as far the fuck away from here as we can and never look back.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, get our own little place, maybe even get a cat.” Your fingers glide over his cheek, pushing his wild locks behind his ear as he continues. “Course we can’t run too far, Henderson would kill me.”

“Oh my god do I have to share custody with Dustin?” You roll your eyes with fake exasperation, your love for the curly haired weirdo just as strong as Eddie’s.

“Afraid so.”

“I guess you’re worth it, though I totally call having you on Christmas.” Manic laughter sounds by your ear as Eddie pulls away, his lips peppering kisses all over your face.

“Good luck with that sweetheart.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #hurt/comfort #fluff

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impossiblescissorspeachpaper · 2 years

Text

One Day, Perhaps

So this little thing is a birthday present to one of my favourite humans here. You did, of course, give me the idea for this way back in elriel month but life got in the way of writing it sooner…

So, here you go dear @offtorivendell !! I hope you love this little piece of pure fluff. Happiest of birthdays to you, my lovely friend 💕 This is for you…

Elriel. Fluff. 1.3k words

Azriel stood behind Elain as she bent over to clip a rose from one of the bushes that lined the gravel footpath winding through the gardens of Feyre’s veritable palace. The surface of the sparkling river beyond shone as they meandered along the banks of the Sidra, reflecting the sun as it made its decent once again toward the horizon.

Elain’s thick, golden-brown hair was gathered into a braid that snaked down her spine, leaving her creamy neck exposed to the sun that was beating down on them in the early afternoon. Stretching out and angling his wing just so, Azriel used the membranous limb to shield her pale skin from getting sunburnt.

Noticing the shadows that muted the suns rays from heating her skin, she turned toward him from where she knelt, gifting him with a little smile that made his heart stutter a beat.

It wasn’t the first time he’d used his wing to shield her from the harsh rays of the summer sun. In fact, he did it most times he accompanied her on a walk through the gardens, Elain not being able to help herself without gathering her skirts in her hands and stooping down to pull out a wayward weed or clip a blooming rose to display in the house or gift a friend. But every time he did so, every single time he gave her that little reprieve from the sun, she quietly thanked him with that smile. That stunning smile that rendered his legs useless for several moments and threatened to send him careening to his knees before her.

Rising from her crouch, she placed the long-stemmed rose in the wicker basket Azriel held for her along with the others. She’d declared she wanted a new floral arrangement to brighten up the foyer and the garden was a riot of colour in the height of summer.

Looping her arm in his, they continued their walk, Elain chattering happily as they leisurely strolled through the grounds of the River manor, Azriel just letting her talk and interjecting where appropriate. He loved listening to her talk. Only around him was she so loquacious. He supposed she thought the same of him, considering others rarely got to see the more verbally outward version of himself as Elain did. But he savoured the press of her small hand on his bicep, her melodious voice as she spoke of the happenings around Velaris and her plans for the garden come autumn.

He companionably continued following her around the grounds like a shadow, pausing beside her as she spotted flowers she wanted to add to her bouquet. She was bent over her dahlia bushes, partially hidden in the shade of a large oak tree when the beat of leathery wings, much less scarred and smaller than his own, sounded from above them.

Looking up just in time, Azriel watched as Nyx fearlessly flung himself off a high branch of the tree and swooped down towards them, his wings fluttering behind him in an effort to catch the current. The look on his chubby little face spoke of pure mischief and his violet eyes sparkled, so like his fathers.

“Nyx!”

Scrambling to catch the toddler who had just dive bombed his aunt and uncle, Azriel dropped the basket, sending flowers hurtling in every direction as he latched onto Nyx before he could do serious damage to himself.

At Azriel’s cry, Elain whipped around, her face morphing from fear to sheer delight as she realised her nephew was indeed not in mortal danger and just up to his usual schemes.

With a pealing giggle, Nyx wrapped his arms around his uncle’s neck, his grin splitting his face from ear to ear as he laughed at his own mischief.

“Did you see me fly, Unc Az?” Nyx asked excitedly, blissfully unaware he had almost caused the stoic Shadowsinger to suffer a heart attack with his flying. He was hanging off the back of Azriel’s neck like a spider monkey, his little face peering around to look curiously into his uncles’ face as he asked him his very important question.

“I saw you swoop me like an angry magpie, you little pest,” Azriel muttered beneath his breath, the corner of his lips lifting slightly as he tried in vain not to crack. Reaching for Nyx, Azriel hefted the three year old over his head and secured him in his arms against his chest.

Elain’s tinkling laugh alerted both Illyrian’s to her presence again, their eyes finding her lovely face in a devastatingly beautiful display of joy. Striding over to them, she smoothed down Nyx’s ruffled hair, kissing his forehead as he remained held aloft in Azriel’s arms.

“Are you being naughty again, Nyx?” Elain whispered conspirationally into the toddler’s face, her eyes alight with mirth.

“Unc Cass said to try surprise Az! He said he needs a-a… kick in his pants!” Nyx stuttered over the sentence as he worked to remember Cassian’s words, not fully appreciating their meaning.

“Oh, he did, did he?” Azriel muttered darkly as Elain stifled a giggle behind her hand.

“I’ll show him a kick in the pants,” Azriel grumbled, his eyes narrowing as his mind raced with all the ways he was going to pay back his brother.

Elain just laughed again, taking Nyx from Azriel’s arms and handing the Shadowsinger the basket in return, full of her clipped flowers once more after she’d collected them off the ground.

Azriel watched Elain fuss over Nyx as they started their walk again, the toddler tucking his face into his aunts’ neck, his little arms wrapping as far as they could reach around her frame. He watched as Nyx settled in his aunts’ embrace, lulled into a serene idleness by her calm demeanour and intoxicating scent. He couldn’t help but think the entire scene looked so…natural.

For someone like Elain, the idea of domestic bliss seemed so fitting. He was almost certain one way or another, it would find her, if that was what she wished. If anyone was fitting of motherhood, it was Elain.

“Do you want one?” Azriel blurted before he could think better of it.

Elain’s eyes found his, the chocolate of her irises bright in the sun. Her gaze flicked down to Nyx’s little form, his legs dangling either side of her waist as she held him hitched on her hip before her eyes flitted back to his. Her eyes had softened as they beheld her precious nephew, the adoration she felt toward him evident in the slight crinkling of the corners.

A knowing little smile bloomed across her face before she responded, “I do, one day, perhaps. But for now, I’m happy.”

Azriel watched her hand smooth circles on Nyx’s back, careful to avoid his little wings. He watched the way she naturally knew how to care for him, provide him safety and love. Something most of his own childhood lacked, but in no way the fault of his own mothers’.

“Do you?” Elain asked shyly, her voice breaking through his reverie, before she continued, “…want one?”

He watched her interacting so effortlessly with the little youngling, some inherent Elain-esque instinct talking over. Watched the gentle hands she used to care for him, the soft whispers of love in every touch and embrace and spoken word. If he indeed were to ever have children, that’s all he’d wish for them.

Azriel looked at her unblinkingly, even his shadows stilling behind him as if they too were aware that this moment in his life would indeed turn out to be one of great importance. “If I were one day to be granted the opportunity to be blessed in such a way, it would truly be an honour.”

Elain blinked up at him slowly, digesting his words, understanding blooming between the two of them with such ease. It was always so easy, with her.

She nodded; her lips set in a small smile before averting her gaze to their path ahead, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks.

“You will,” she uttered in no uncertainty, continuing their walk as Azriel fell into step beside her. The comfortable silence enveloping them once more.

He exhaled deeply, a weight he wasn’t aware pressing in on his chest loosening, beginning to slowly unravel. He believed her.

*******

tagging: @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows @the-laughing-bubble @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters @tswaney17 @sakurakittypeach @thefangirlofhp @wingedblooms @alwayssara @ultadverb

#t writes #acotar fanfiction #azriel fluff #elain archeron #nyx #elriel fanfic #elriel #azriel #acotar #elain x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elain #elriel fanfiction #acotar fluff #elriel fluff #my writing #pro elriel

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much-obliged-timothy · 1 year

Text

June of Doom #9

The Bad Batch - #9 - Defiance

Omega clung to the edge of the roof, regretting her decisions.

Hunter had firmly told her to remain on the ship. But how could she possibly do that when they were heading into danger, especially now that they were down Tech? Sure, Echo was here to help out on this mission, but without Tech…

She had nodded obediently when Hunter gave her the order to stay. And then immediately slipped off the ship the moment he and the others were far enough away not to notice.

She gripped the edge as hard as she could, trying and failing to pull herself up onto the slick roof. The rain earlier had made the roof harder to traverse than she’d expected, and the pirates shooting at them certainly didn’t help.

“Hang on, Omega!” Hunter called, trying to make his way over while remaining behind cover. They were outgunned.

Omega had managed to take down a few before a too-close shot startled her and caused her to lose her footing, but it wasn’t enough. Wrecker, seeming to realize that Hunter would never make it in time at this rate, let out a battle cry and charged out from behind his cover, lifting a stolen ship part the pirates had left lying around and hurling it at a group of them.

It was enough of a distraction to buy Hunter the time he needed to make it to the roof. He pulled himself up and began to carefully but swiftly make his way towards Omega.

“Hunter! I can’t hold on much longer!” she said, her arms trembling with exhaustion and her fingers starting to slip. It was too hard to hold her weight up on the slippery edge.

“I’m almost there,” Hunter assured.

He slipped a little, but easily regained his balance. He lowered himself to the edge of the roof and gripped Omega’s arm, hauling her up to his side.

He’d nearly gotten her the whole way up when a shot struck his armor, knocking him back with a pained gasp. Omega nearly slipped off again, but used her momentum to push herself up. She landed messily next to Hunter, hurrying to get to her hands and knees.

“Hunter!” she cried in fear.

He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her against his chest and rolling so that his body shielded her from the rest of the shots coming their way. Another cry from Wrecker, and the shots ceased.

Hunter used the momentary reprieve to grab Omega and roughly pull her up the roof and over to the other side, away from the pirates.

“Wait. Here.” His voice was furious.

She shrank back, but did not move this time as he got down from the roof. She listened anxiously to the blaster fire until it finally stopped.

Hunter came back up to the roof, leveling her with a look. She could hear Wrecker and Echo digging through the pirates’ stolen goods out of sight.

“I told you to stay on the ship!” he said.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

He rubbed his shoulder. “Mildly. I’ll be alright. What were you thinking, Omega? You could’ve been killed!”

“I could’ve gotten you killed,” she whispered, vision blurring with tears. “Oh, Hunter.”

She threw herself at him and he caught her. Her arms went around his waist, her face pressing to his chest. She let out a small sob as his arms actually went around her, too.

“I just wanted to help. Without Tech…and I can’t lose any of you too…” She shut her mouth and just cried into Hunter’s chest, wishing she could hear his heartbeat through his armor, just as a reassurance that he was alive and well.

“Omega,” he said, his voice much gentler. “We’re professionals. But there’s always a risk. If I make a call, it’s because I think it’s the best one. You need to stay on the ship if I tell you to, okay? We can handle ourselves.”

“So could Tech,” she choked out.

“I know,” he said, kneeling down and pulling her even closer. She shifted her arms around his neck and held on to him. ”I know, kid. The only promise I can make is that we’ll always do everything we can to make it back to you. But if I have to worry about your safety like that, I can’t focus in a battle. You’ve gotten a lot better, but you still lack experience. I’m making the best calls I can about when it’s the right time to get you that. Please listen to me in the future.”

“I will,” she said, pressing her cheek to his. “I can’t lose you, Hunter. None of you.”

He could do nothing to reassure her, because he could not promise they would not end up like Tech. All he could do was hold her close and hope fear for their well being tempered her defiance instead of fueled it.

#june of doom #june of doom 2023 #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb omega #tbb hunter #swtbb #jtdoesjuneofdoom

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jiminjamms · 2 years

Text

international superspy :: loid x hostess! reader

synopsis: working in berlint's most popular hostess club, you get interested in some mysterious eye-candy who's dressed up to the nines.

content tags/warnings: drabble/oneshot. suggestive. implication of illegal activities. strong language.

word count: 750 words

notes: for @scandescent's and @festive's dirty money collab! a shorter and more lighthearted work. likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! (see notes continued at end.)

You first noticed him when your shift began.

Eight o’clock at night, and you were busy polishing at the side when while he had just entered through the establishment’s wooden double doors.

Just from his back, you could tell that this guy was ridiculously attractive.

He was tall, blonde, and every step he took in his well-ironed navy suit told you that he was most certainly some distinguished gentleman.

You really didn’t understand why his body and presence was so captivating—it wasn’t like he was the only pretty boy going around. Here, at the most renowned hostess club in Berlint, businesspeople with deep pockets and name-brand business suits were one among plenty.

In fact, from what you’d seen in your few weeks as an employee here, customers come here in troves once the clock ticked past typical working hours. Besides, who—after toiling in their little cubicles for twelve-hour workdays—wouldn’t be seeking a sympathetic ear that would listen to their ramblings about corporate Ostanian life?

Put simply, hostess clubs were supposed to offer a platonic reprieve for the tired and overworked, an innocent little guilty pleasure for those who could afford.

As a hostess, therefore, you had been trained to keep conversations, serve drinks, play card games.

That’s how you get the customers. That’s how you win popularity.

In essence, that’s how you rake in the money.

The legal way, at least.

Less honest hostesses like you always had dirtier tricks up their sleeves. Anything to extort a little extra cash, right?

Because boy, did your paychecks here do you good. Hourly wages plus hefty tips lined your wallet well, and there was nothing you loved more than spending on all sorts of expensive thrills: champagne, gambling, warehouse parties.

One problem, though.

Whoever Blondie was, he clearly didn’t want to be here. He appeared to be dragged along by a shorter, scruffier man.

You recognized this other person as Franky Franklin, a regular at the establishment and—according to hearsay—had been trying to woo several co-workers only to get rejected each time. (And with all due respect, you now understood why.)

But Franky’s sexy friend, though…

You hadn’t even seen his face, yet you knew that you’d certainly never seen anyone like him before.

In the split second that this new guy—en route to a table—walked by and did angle his face in your direction, you swallowed hard.

Because he was handsome.

No, he was hot. Hot as hell.

Blondie, as far as you could tell, was well into his late twenties with sharpened features that were strong like thunder clouds. His bright blue eyes looked right at you, almost as though he had sensed your lingering stare.

But no, that wasn’t the important part.

The real important part was that you got him. You got his attention.

And Blondie stared back. He evaluated you, inspected you, and even raised a brow as his eyes slid over your figure slowly and obviously. That was all before he was quickly ushered forward and stepped past you for good.

However, you wanted him, needed him.

You silently watched him settle at a table towards the back, tucked behind an alcove.

Given the weird arrangement of walls that nearly shielded him, you had to lean back just the right amount so that his full body would come to view.

Seated comfortably, he rested his elbows languidly on armrests. He already seemed engrossed in conversation, rapping his finger against the table as Franky spoke to him.

There was a brief moment where, in concentration, he subtly flexed his jawline and creased his brows, gestures so delicious that you momentarily forgot to breathe.

He was busy, probably here to work rather than to get his dick wet, but there was something so tempting in the way his legs were crossed, his posture so assured. There was just something so…erotic in the manner which he licked the tips of his fingers, shuffling some documents in his slender hands.

As you observed Blondie from across the room, you decided then and there that he would be your next target.

A couple hundred dalcs was probably nothing to a person earning over six digits like him.

Even if a hostess's code of conduct strictly discouraged sexual intentions, you knew that if you showed a little extra skin, he'd perhaps double the tips.

Or more.

Anything to give this eye-candy everything that he deserved.

And, of course, to get everything that you needed as well.

notes continued: 1) i did an embarrassing amount of research on hostess clubs, only to use 2% of what i learned. LOL 2) if you caught the tiktok title reference, ily. i just knew i'd never get the chance to use it otherwise.

taglist: @pulchritxde @thelovewvtch @deartoji @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @hinativity @lynn-writes-things @7oji @kikuchimi @piqer @nobody289x @chaoticjojofan @vvestwoodrose @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @hanayanetwork

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srorgana1 · 8 months

Text

Invocation

Paring: Vampire Kylo/Hunter Rey

Warnings: Dark Themes (Dead Dove), Supernatural/Paranormal, Blood, Violence, Gore, Death, NSFW 18+, Sexual Content, Psychological and Physical Torture, Kidnapping, Hatred towards organized religion, Pain, Major/Minor character death/injury, Demonic Possession

Chapter Twenty Five

The door lock rattles signaling Rey to open her eyes. She rubs her tired swollen eyes as she rolls to her side. She sees the offensive door swing open and she shivers violently, her magick thankful for the reprieve. She doesn’t know how long she has been in this cell. Time was irrelevant, mashed together under the weight of the iron door.

She’s seen no one since she got thrown in here. The only interaction with the outside is a hand flinging in a plate inside the room. The metal skids across the floor, whatever slop meeting the stone floor. She couldn’t stomach it even if she tried.

Her ever present nausea and muscle pain eases slightly as a blurry figure enters. She squints to see who it is. “You’re awake for once” a voice says. She grunts in response as her vision sharpens, seeing Poe in front of her with his hands in his coat pockets. He looking at her like he has so many times.

He takes a step forward as she raises herself up to sit on her cot. “Listen Rey, I really didn’t want to do this to you. I’m sorry. It was just to get Ren here…” She shutters as recent memories flash before her eyes, making her anger rise. “Fuck you Poe!” she spats “you broke your Oath! How could you do that?!” He sighs and leans on the wall behind him.

She can feel her strength returning the longer the door is open. She sits up fully, shivering again as her magick skips down her lines, fixing and straightening her shield. She keeps her face blank and mental walls high as Poe starts to speak. “The Oath can’t really stick if one’s got no soul Rey.”

He stops, shaking his head before continuing. “I was just doing my part. I honestly didn’t want to involve you. I tried to keep you out of it but when I saw how Ren looked at you and then after hearing you trained with him, I couldn’t stop what has already happening.” He looked almost remorseful as he pulls out a cigarette from his pocket, except for the black bleeding in from the sides of his eyes.

She takes a breath and without a word stands up slowly. His eyes follow her form as he chews on the end of cigarette. She takes a step towards him and with a flick of her wrist, wills the dirty metal plates to fly right into his shoulder she shot. “I can’t wait to watch you burn Demon!” she shouts. He grunts as he swats them away, his hand going to his shoulder.

“You Hunter whore” he bellows as she quickly sends out a pulse assessing her surroundings. She can sense others in the halls both demon and otherwise. Her breath hitches when she catches Kay’s signature among them. She rushes to the doorway when she feels his hand grab her jacket and pull her back into his chest.

She struggles against him, getting him a couple times in the ribs before he overpowers her. He squeezes her neck with his forearm, making her wheeze. “I can still fucking smell him on you” he growls “he will die a lot quicker if you continue to struggle. Do you want to be responsible for his death? Could you stomach that?!”

Her eyes water at the thought. She thinks back to him holding her as they told each other their deepest secrets, those soft smiles when she succeed with a new skill and those luscious kisses. How his magick and soul completed hers. Her heart clinches at the thought of him hurt or worse. No she cannot risk it. She couldn’t bare it.

She stops struggling but turns her head enough to be able to see Poe’s face in her periphery. “Fine, but so you know you will never win as long as The Order is around” she says as she mentally wills her shield to full strength for whatever is to come. He smiles as his eyes black out, his demon energy spiking. “Whatever you say Rey, but we are late due to your antics. I hope they didn’t start without us” he says as he walks her out of her cell and down the hallway. “Can’t miss the party of a life time.”

---

Kylo grunts as he pushed roughly to the rough stone ground. He grits his teeth and hisses as clawed hands rip at his vest and undershirt leaving him bare. The hood is removed from his head, ripping some hair along with it. He pants as a blast of magick hits him head on, burning his skin and eyes.

He shakes his head, willing it away. “Bind him” a sinister voice says. His arms are immediately grabbed and placed in thick manacles. He tries to fights back against them but with each call to his magick the shackles burn and spark at his skin. He growls as he stills, knowing worse will come if he continues.

He takes a ragged breath finally taking the opportunity to look around as they leave him. The dark cavernous room is alight with candles, their flames causing shadows to dance along the walls. Numerous cloaked demons mill about. He looks down and follows the white painted lines on the floor. “Move again and I’ll gut you” a gruff voice says next to him.

He turns his shoulders as much as he can to see a demon smack a kneeling hooded figure in the head. They sniffle and cower at his threats. He can feel their fear radiating through their magick. His eyes shift, noticing more of them who were similarly bound. His blood runs cold at the realization.

His mind races, trying to come up with any way he can delay the horrible inevitable. He shuts his eyes trying and failing to find a way to warn The Order and The Council. His bonds burn once more as the activity increases around him and the others, the demons beginning to encircle them. There’s so many of them. A loud dark rumble echoes off the walls as a man is brought into the circle by two demons.

The man struggles in their hold, snarling and yelling at them. Kylo’s breath catches as he stares at an exact replica of a younger Vicrul. Same strong but slight build. Same dark hair and gold glowing eyes. He opens his mouth and starts spewing the same creative filth his father uses. It’s eerie.

He sees a cloaked figure walk up to him and grabs his jaw with a dark clawed hand. “That’s enough” he growls as he waves his hand over his head stilling him instantly. Kylo stiffens, knowing that voice. The demon turns and smiles darkly at Kylo. Krennic. He closes his hand, levitating Asher into the air and places him in the center of the circle. A dark leather book is handed to him.

Laughter hits Kylo’s ears as he hears a door open and two more bodies hit the cold stone floor. “You motherfucker! Let fucking go of me! Where the fuck is my son!? Answer me!” Vicrul’s loud voice roars behind him. “Temper Temper Vircul” one said coyly, kicking him in the chest. He groans as Trudgen growls as the sound of shackles echo once more.

Kylo watches Pryde, Krennic and Wilhuff stand behind Asher as a hush comes over the crowd. Kylo fights to control the growing sense of panic in his chest. “Welcome all to this unholy place. We are gathered here by order of the Dark One, the maker and master of all demons. His Dark Imminence awaits, has been calling from the other side and we must obey” Wilhuff says loudly, his scared chin prominent under his hood. Kylo’s eyes shift to the mass of demons as they start to hum lowly, combining their magick for the impending ceremony.

Kylo stares forward at a loss. He had failed The Order, his brothers, The Council, Rey. He feels the blanket of self-loathing drape over his shoulders, heavier than ever before. How could he be so stupid to think he was free of this and that the world was safe. How could he think he was anything more then the cause of everyone’s pain and suffering.

The door behind him opens once more. He is pulled from his spiraling thoughts when he catches Rey’s signature. He looks over his shoulders trying to find her. “Looking for this?” Poe’s voice says tauntingly. He appears from behind a particular large demon with Rey in his arms. Kylo growls, immediately noticing the bruising on her perfect skin.

“Ah our other guest of honor” Pryde sneers as Poe forces her down on the other side of the circle from Kylo. He hears her hiss as she is shackled as well. Kylo watches her raise her hand as soon as they let go. “Rey no” he yells as his own start to spark. She yelps in pain, falling back on the stone floor. Kylo watches her twitch helplessly.

Pryde turns and rejoins Krennic and Wilhuff, pulling a blackened Angel knife from his belt. Krennic opens the book in his claws. “Tonight we celebrate the Dark One’s return to this plane. We come with blood and magick to restore the one who was betrayed and cast down” he says, eyeing Kylo as dark magick thickens in the air.

Krennic continues to read, calling Him forth to the vail. The lines on the floor begin to glow. “We offer you those before you so your power will be restored” he says loudly as the three of them raise their clawed hands in the air. Even through his bonds, he can feel the other captives magick spiking.

Kylo watches in horror as the captives and Asher still and thin tendrils of magick begin moving towards their outstretched hands. The magical energy swirls, combining into a large floating orb. They cry and shake, groaning at the forced removal of their magick. Some slump over as it happens while others struggle in their hold.

As the tendrils fade the orb stabilizes, floating above Asher’s body. Pryde turns and smiles maliciously at him as Krennic continues to read. “We invite you, Master of the Darkness, to come forth and accept our offering. We offer you the blood of your traitors, those who swore to protect. We offer this form before us made of that same blood, may he be a worthy vessel for thee.”

Pryde stalks towards Kylo as Vicrul roars in the background helplessly. He stops before him brandishing the Angel blade. “I have been waiting for this” he growls as he grips Kylo’s hair pulling him upright. He hears Rey yelling as well over the demonic humming and Krennic’s profane words.

A sharp sting of pain rips through him, making him yell out as the knife is plunged into his shoulder. Pryde growls as he twists the blade, forcing it deeper. Kylo grunts and groans as the Angel blade begins to burn his flesh. Blood pours out as Pryde rips the blade from his skin, causing him to collapse on to the floor.

Through hazy eyes, he watches Pryde turns and walks back to the orb which is now swirling and sparking violently. He holds the blade above and allows Kylo’s blood to drip into it. His pain flares intensely as the orb darkens to an intense black and begins to pulse out dark energy. It’s terrifyingly familiar.

He hears a dark laugh emanate from the orb as it sinks into Asher’s chest, causing Asher to seize violently. Kylo can hear Vicrul’s howls and Rey’s shocked cries through his grunts of pain as Asher stills and begins to levitate off the floor. His shackles fall the floor, undone by unseen hands as he rises higher.

A sickening chorus of cracks echo though the room as the hooded figures instantly fall to the floor, their life forces suddenly no more. Kylo grits his teeth able to feel their pain along with his own. Asher opens his eyes, looking around with glowing black eyes. He smiles and chuckles lowly at the scene before him.

The surrounding demons kneel before him as Krennic closes his book and bows along with Wilhuff and Pryde. “Welcome back your Imminence” they say in union. He floats down, his bare feet hitting the floor. A low rumble and a whoosh of air whips around the room, making the clothes and hoods of the recently deceased rustle.

The pain rises in Kylo’s body once more, making him gasp. Asher turns and looks at him quickly. “Ah Kylo” he purrs as he walks towards him. His face is impassive, black eyes assess Kylo’s bloody form. They flick up to see the other Knights behind him.

His face morphs into a deep snarl, long fangs descending from his mouth as he places a hand on Kylo’s head. “Now you will feel all my wrath my traitorous knights” he grits as he sends a wave of torturous pain into his head. Kylo screams as his mind is ripped through by the Devil’s invisible claws.

He tries to fight back, trying frantically to put up his mental walls but they are bowled over by overwhelmingly strong dark energy. He shuffles through Kylo’s memories and disjointed thoughts, scrambling it all in a sea of white hot pain. He collapses, his body and mind finally overwhelmed. The last thing he hears before succumbing to unconsciousness is the others screams and the Devil’s dark laughter. You’re mine now.

Thank you everyone for their amazing support for this dark lil fic ☠️ I love you all! ❤️ If you are enjoying hit that ❤️ button or the Kudos buton on Ao3 🔥

Again a huge thank you to good friend and Beta @mrs-zimmerman ❤️❤️

Watch out world, the Dark One has returned... no one is safe from his wrath ☠️

#adam driver #kylo ren #kylo ren au #star wars au #knights of ren #kylo ren x rey #hunter rey #reylo au #reylo fandom #reylo #vampire kylo #vampire au #starwarsficnetwork #reylo fanfic #adam douglas driver #adamdriver #dark fanfiction #Spotify

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purgetrooperfox · 2 years

Note

"we should go skinny dipping" for noctitra?

[ prompts ]

prompt: skinny dipping

pairing: Nocte/Kit Fisto/Dara Idella (@spacerocksarethebestrocks)

tags: T, M/M/F, polyamory, surprise vacation, beach trip, non-sexual nudity (maybe semi-sexual but it's not overt at all)

ao3

big shoutout to Madz (@spacerocksarethebestrocks) for the polycule brainrot and also for beta reading this for me <3

It's something of an anomaly for Nocte to get deployed offworld.

His post is on Coruscant, running the ins and outs of the Guard's medical wing, chasing down commanding officers who refuse to account for their own health, doing his best to shield his shinies from the ugliness surrounding them. Even brief leaves of absence create a backlog of work that, frankly, are rarely worth the reprieve. It may not be the job he expected, back on Kamino, but it's the one he got. And he's damn good at it.

So he doesn't get pulled away, almost as a rule. Even if it wasn't such an inconvenience, he doesn't have a traditional battalion to follow to the frontlines. The need simply isn't there.

All of which makes it a shock when Dara requests a medic to escort her to Scarif, all the way in the Outer Rim. Not a Jedi Healer (that would be overkill), not a civilian medic (she'd hate to put them at risk), not a small squad of Coruscant Guard medics (surely it makes sense to send as few as possible). She specifically requests one of the Guard's CMOs, with a note that she would prefer they assign Nocte to her.

When any Jedi bothers to request one particular trooper, it's hard to rationalize denying them.

That's how Nocte finds himself in a civilian transport shuttle, kitted out in unpainted armor like a shiny, with Dara at his side. They draw more attention than he would like. Far more. A lone Jedi with only a single trooper. It's strange. Nocte can't really blame them for staring.

He also can't speak up to ask what the hell is going on, not in such a poorly secured space. His helmet speakers are turned off and that won't change until they land.

The trip to Scarif takes 95 hours. Six flights; five passenger carriers and one cargo craft. Five refueling depots. Countless scenarios where if push came to shove, the sheer volume of bodies could overwhelm them with ease. Before they board the last ship, Dara shoves a change of clothes and a large pack into his arms. So goes the bulk of his bodily protection, stuffed into a backpack and exchanged for what amounts to hiking gear and a mask. Dara swaps her robes for street clothes as well. As much as Nocte hates it, they practically disappear from watchful eyes.

With the end in sight, he assumes that the worst is behind them. They situate themselves in the cargo hold of a freighter and despite himself, he almost relaxes.

It proves to be a mistake.

The last leg of their journey is less a landing than a freefall.

More specifically, it's Dara giving him a rushed minute to strap on a parachute then ushering him out of the bay and into open air.

Only when he's collapsed on the ground after cutting himself loose from his 'chute - which got tangled in a tree and left him dangling precariously - does he tear off his mask, bury his face in his arms, and curse loudly. In several languages. Colorful enough that even Wolffe would chastise him.

Dara knows better. She waits for him to peel himself from the damp, pungent dirt and come to her.

"What," he says evenly, "the Sith-fearing fuck."

"Are you hurt?" is, of course, her first question.

Nocte blinks at her. Her clothes are as torn up and filthy as his own, but there's no evidence of injury. Granted, she's not up and walking yet. They'll both be bruised, at minimum.

"No. Are you?"

"No." She stands with as much grace as he's come to expect and steps into his space, searching for something on his face. "Welcome to Scarif."

"Dara–"

"No one outside the GAR and the Order knows we're here," she continues. "No one knows exactly where we are on the planet. We're alone, or as close to it as we can be."

"I still don't–"

"Do you trust me?" The words alone are almost accusatory, but her tone borders on pleading.

"Dara."

She crosses her arms and raises a brow. "Well, do you?"

Nocte's shoulders slump as he blows out a sigh. "Of course I do. You know that."

"Then trust me," she says, smiling sharply. "We have a couple miles to walk, then I'll explain everything."

—

A couple miles roughly translates to a 15k hike over uneven jungle terrain. They don't talk much, only breaking the silence with warnings about the route or to relay oncoming transmissions. It gives Nocte enough time to conclude that Dara probably has her reasons for being cryptic. She's never led him astray before, and he does trust her with his life.

His frustration fizzles out. The brain-numbing sameness of putting one foot in front of the other eventually becomes similar to a light meditation. When the jungle breaks out onto a sprawling beach with soft sand and crystalline water, it threatens to take his breath away.

When he spots a tiny log cabin further along the treeline, and Kit gods damned Fisto standing shirtless in its doorway, confusion wipes away his newfound peace of mind. Kit heads toward them and Nocte turns back to Dara, knowing that his question will be written all over his face. And for whatever it's worth, she cuts straight to the point. Just like she always does.

"So," she says, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly. "There's no mission here. Not really. I'll have to take a day before we leave, but we have nine days to treat like a vacation. This was… not the only way, but a way to get you some time off and away from the city. Plus, Kit was able to dump his battalion on a different beach, give them a break, and meet us here. I couldn't explain where anyone else might hear, since this is probably breaking so many GAR rules, but yeah."

And that's just. "You're completely ridiculous," he manages through disbelief. "You could've warned me, though. I'm– shit, I was so stressed about this. All of that travel? The lack of security?"

That edge of concern returns to her face and her gaze drops to the ground as she takes a breath. "I know. I'm sorry, love. I wanted this to be a surprise, but it's tricky with all the military restrictions and scheduling conflicts and everything else. I'm sorry."

It does help to know that the 422nd is getting some downtime too, and Dara's long overdue for a break. Nocte hasn't seen Kit in person in months either. The war spirals further every day. No one's really, truly coping well.

Maybe rash decisions are warranted.

"I know," he says, softer now. "I understand. It's still ridiculous, and you're ridiculous, and I love you, so I guess that means I'm ridiculous."

"Maybe a little bit." Her tone is still sheepish, but there's a shine in her eyes that Nocte hasn't seen in a long time. "I love you too."

Any further discussion is shelved when Kit skips hello altogether, takes Nocte's face in both hands and crashes their lips together with an air of desperation. A broken noise escapes Nocte before he can stop it, but he can't be bothered to care. All the recent nights, long and cold and lonely, get lodged somewhere in his throat, hitching his breath. Kit's lips are warm and his grip is strong, twisted in the back of Nocte's hair. He feels like home.

If he sways forward when Kit finally pulls away, no one can rightly hold it against him.

If he gets caught smiling like a lovestruck fool when Kit turns to Dara and pulls her into an equally heartfelt embrace, so be it.

They're all alive. They're all together. That can be enough. Kit drags them back to the cabin and into bed before exhaustion knocks them flat on the sand, and it's relief.

Sleep can wait.

—

The ocean on Kamino was a terror. Frigid temperatures shook cadets to their cores and neverending storms sent vicious waves skyward. Their limited aquatic training was among the most dreaded stages of cadets’ curriculum. Pneumonia was unavoidable. Some of them swore up and down that they could never breathe as well afterward, even years down the road. As such, the vast majority of the clones have a healthy fear of open water. Nocte is a part of that majority.

He hasn’t seen an ocean since the war broke out, and hasn’t had any qualms about it. It’s one of the few perks of Coruscant. When they’re on shore leave, Monnk and his boys comment on the absence of natural bodies of water like it’s a flaw instead of a feature.

Privately, Nocte thinks their brains are probably waterlogged. Ongoing proximity to Kit probably has some adverse effects on one’s judgment, as well. Still though.

The ocean on Scarif is peace. Its waters are clear and calm and the antithesis of Kaminoan chaos. He almost can’t believe it. The sunset on the horizon is an explosion of orange and pink that reflects off the ocean’s surface like a mirror, a seamless painting of warm color, broken only by wispy clouds overhead. Birds overhead and the gentle wash of surging water are the only sounds to break the silence; there’s not another soul in sight on the shoreline.

Kit and Dara are around somewhere, but they’ve left him to his own devices since he wandered from their cabin. Maybe they knew this would be significant for him in some way. Maybe they’re desensitized to the simple sight of the ocean. Maybe they’re just preoccupied, napping or fucking or scavenging for snacks. Regardless. For the first time in his life, Nocte stands alone with the sand between his toes and the ebbing tide licking up around his ankles, and some of the weight that presses down on his shoulders at all hours dares to lift. He’ll have to comm Remedy or Carrion in the morning and check in, but for now…

For now, he can breathe.

—

It can’t be long before the sand crunches behind him and the breeze carries over the quiet chatter of Kit and Dara’s conversation; the sun is still a sliver of light in the distance and the temperature is only just starting to drop. Kit presses himself close against Nocte’s back and loops his arms around his waist. The lingering scent of burning charcoal clings to his clothes from cooking dinner. Relaxing back into his hold, Nocte tucks his head into the crook of Kit’s neck.

Dara carries on past them, stepping deeper into the water and turning her face to the sky, Wrapped in loose, flowing layers of light fabric, she cuts a stunning figure, backlit by the remnants of the sunset.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?” Kit voices Nocte’s thoughts precisely, too softly for Dara to hear.

Nocte hums his agreement. “‘s beautiful. I still can’t really believe it. You’re both insane.”

Kit snorts like he must be joking, but it's true. Despite the fact that the consequences seem far away and– well, inconsequential, he can hardly imagine the sheer magnitude of blowback if someone was to find out that they pulled him off duty under false pretenses. Not only that, but it would undoubtedly come to light that the three of them are in a relationship. That could jeopardize Kit's position on the Council, Dara's reputation in the Order, Nocte’s credibility among his family. It could be absolutely catastrophic.

But now? Now, Kit's fingertips trace idle patterns into Nocte’s sides. His breath sends goosebumps up his neck. Dara's bundling her skirts up in her arms as she wades deeper into the water. Now, Coruscant and the Temple and the Guard are little more than a recent memory and a distant concern.

Maybe Kit and Dara are a little bit insane, but maybe you have to be, to find happiness during this hell of a war. Maybe Nocte is just lucky to have them. He twists his fingers through Kit's and breathes and watches.

Dara eventually tires of shying from the waves and of hiking up her clothes, so she pulls them over her head and turns back to her partners with defiance in her eyes. The bundle of her clothes hits Nocte squarely in the face a split second before she folds backwards, disappearing under the surface. At his back, Kit twitches, like Grizzer when he sees a tooka.

Folding Dara's clothes over his arm, Nocte smiles at the unspoken want. "You can join her."

"As can you," Kit says with a smile in his voice.

"You both should," Dara adds, surfacing nearby. Rivulets of water catch the dying light as they roll down the length of her figure and draw Nocte's gaze, over her chest, to the juncture of her hip, to the point where the surface laps at her thighs. "How have we never all been skinny dipping together?"

Kit's body heat retreats when he wades back to deposit Dara's clothes on their beach towel. "Apparently, a kidnapping is what it takes to get Nocte away from the Guard," he calls over his shoulder.

Which isn't fair.

Scoffing, Nocte opts not to dignify that with a response and rolls his eyes at Dara instead. "To be fair, there aren't that many swimming options back on Coruscant, or at least not in the Senate District."

"Have you not been to Zelle's?"

He raises a brow, pointedly. "No?"

"Subterra?" Kit tries. As he rests his hands back on his hips, Nocte grimaces and busies his own fingers with twisting his hair up into a bun, letting the breeze cool the back of his neck.

"Nope."

"What about–"

"Nowhere since Tipoca," he cuts Kit off - not rudely, but he gets a sense that the pair of them could probably name a dozen more spots. When he thinks about it, it makes sense for Nautolans to scope out pools and springs more thoroughly. "Well, we have a lap pool at the gym, but it's not exactly ideal for leisure."

Not that the ocean back home was, but Dara already looks like he kicked her tooka, so he omits that tidbit.

"You've never been skinny dipping, have you?" she asks sadly.

"'fraid not."

Whatever she's about to say gets cut off by Kit abruptly hiking Nocte's shirt up and maneuvering it over his head.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Kit echoes. Thick arms wrap around Nocte's waist as Dara approaches with a smile that radiates mischief.

She takes his face in both hands and kisses him firmly, pressing herself flush against him. Her skin is cool and damp, a stark contrast to the heat of her lips and her tongue swiping into his mouth. With Kit sturdy and unmoving behind him, Nocte can do little more than return Dara's enthusiasm and let them pin him in place.

They've never been shy about their affinity for overwhelming him with affection - trapping him between them, holding him still and then smothering him with words and touches that white out his brain. Privately, he thinks it has something to do with how seamlessly they seem to slot together. Years upon years graced them with synergy that Nocte can't hope to compete with, and he doesn't try. His presence in the equation could be a hiccup or a speed bump or a challenge, but they don't treat him that way. They don't try to force him to fit their dynamic, but they do fold him into it. Physically and otherwise.

Plus, Dara just likes to push his buttons. To see how much he'll take before he starts bucking against the restraints they pose. Her fingers drop to the waistband of his shorts, like she heard his thoughts, as Kit sucks a bruise into the side of his neck, and Nocte has to swallow a whine.

Then, in one swift motion, his shorts drop down around his ankles. Dara beams up at him, all teeth and silent challenge. "This is skinny dipping," she informs him.

Nocte narrowly resists rolling his eyes again and brushes a thumb across her cheek, holding her gently when she leans into his touch. "My life is forever changed," he says, "I see the light, the galaxy suddenly makes sense, and I owe it all to being naked and wet."

Dara snorts and smacks his hand away. "Okay, smartass."

"Hm. You love my smart ass."

"Well, I certainly love your ass. What do you think, darling?" she redirects her attention to Kit, where his face is partially buried in Nocte's hair. "Is he getting the full experience?"

Kit's grip on him tightens, ever so slightly, and alarm bells start to ring.

"I don't think so," he says. His tone is entirely too innocent.

"Don't you dare." Nocte says as he tries to squirm out of his arms, but it’s too late.

In the same instant, Dara steps away and Nocte's world tilts sideways as Kit hauls him up over his shoulder. His jaw-dropping view of the ocean and the sky and Dara, just in general, is replaced by a downward angle over Kit's ass. Usually he wouldn't object to such a vantage point in the slightest, but, well.

The world shifts again, because Kit throws him bodily into the water. So goes his first skinny dip.

some writing tags and taglist form :) dm to be removed

@willowworkswithwords @saradika @dikut @voidika @mandoposting @certified-anakinfucker @milf-plokoon @secretlyatimelady @spaceydragons @tayylie @moonstrider9904 @thelove-ablepenguin @maulpunk @frietiemeloen @spacerocksarethebestrocks @quinnqueens @thefact0rygirl @misogirl828 @amyroswell

#leocs #others' ocs #clone medic nocte #dara idella #kit fisto #noctitra #oc x canon #oc x oc #leo.writes #polycule #together. and i cannot stress this enough. we can make it canon #ashe joins them on the next kidnapping slash vacation #god i hate formatting on this site #asks answered

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trickstump · 2 years

Text

OFFER YOUR THROAT / STARVE WITHOUT ME

CHAPTER SEVEN // (read it HERE on AO3)

Steve makes sure his bat is in his backseat, on Sunday morning.

Nancy wants them to get out to the lake early, both so that they had more daylight to work with, once they got out, and so that they could keep an eye out for other people who had decided to wander their way to Lover’s Lake on Halloween weekend a bit better. It’s just the four of them, going down; Dustin, Mike, and Lucas are camping out in the Wheeler’s station wagon, acting as lookouts and mission control.

Robin looks like she has to physically hold herself back from asking Steve about Friday. She’d looked the same on Saturday when he’d gone in for work, but they’d had enough on their hands coordinating their excursion and dealing with customers that he’d gotten a bit of a reprieve there. He thinks the only thing that saves him now is that she’d come with Nancy, and Robin was a damn good secret keeper.

“Are you guys ready for this?” he asks. They’ve all got armfuls of supplies- most notably, the heavy metal cat carrier Nancy made him haul. He’s got no idea where she got the thing from, and doesn’t want to ask.

“Absolutely not,” Eddie says. He sounds chipper; the bravado’s back. “But hey, let’s go to hell anyway, right gang?”

Rowing out to the gate is a silent trudge; none of them breathe a word, Steve thinks, until they’re already through the portal, taking in the festering landscape.

“Honey, I’m home,” Eddie mutters, dropping down just behind Steve, who’s already got his bat poised and ready.

“It’s grab a demon and run like hell, right?” Robin asks from his other side. Steve hears a shotgun cock, and knows that Nancy came down just behind her. Gang’s all here.

“Right,” he says.

“Don’t exactly love that we’re just waiting for them to come and hoping they don’t swarm us,” Nancy huffs. When Steve looks back, she’s moved in front of Robin, her back nearly pressed to Robin’s front to shield her. He files that away for later.

“I don’t think we’ll have to wait that long,” Eddie says. Steve’s gaze flicks to him, and he’s standing stock still. His pupils are pin prick narrow, even in the near darkness, and he’s got his head tilted to the sky to their left.

“If you tell me you can sense bats now, man, I am totally gonna lose it,” Steve groans.

Eddie doesn’t have time to reply because, just then, the bats arrive.

It’s as though they appear from nowhere- dozens, hundreds, all at once, and it’s all Steve can do to hit the one’s coming at him, clawing desperately for a gap. Fuck trying to grab one; he’s almost immediately certain that that plan is pretty much busted.

He’s screaming. Robin’s screaming, Nancy’s screaming. He hears a gun firing.

And then Eddie screams, and everything stops.

The sound feels like it somehow fills the entire expanse of the Upside Down, echoing off walls that don’t exist- or, at least, walls Steve couldn’t see. It makes his ears ring, and the rotting landscape around them seems to shudder, and he watches as the bats around him seem to seize and drop at once. He has to cover his face to protect himself from them all just slapping him like pounds of gross, wet, twitching fish.

“Oh my god,” Robin says when the silence lingers for a few seconds, the demobats at their feet little more than twitching masses. She’s a little shrill. Steve can’t blame her.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Nancy asks, breathless. She’s still got her gun cocked, and she’s not quite aiming at Eddie, but Steve can tell she’s ready to. He steps between the two of them.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says. It’s hoarse, and Steve can’t blame him for that, either. “I was just scared, so I screamed.”

“Yeah, like a fucking banshee,” Robin says, pushing her fingers into her hair. “Jesus Christ.”

“Does it matter?” Steve asks, and then clarifies when everyone opens their mouth to answer at once: “Does it matter right now? We came here to get a demobat, and here-” He picks one from the pile at his feet at random and shoves it into the carrier. It’s still warm and twitching, so he assumes it’s still alive. “Is our goddamn demobat. Let’s the get hell out of here, and figure out why Munson’s suddenly an opera singer when there’s not a chance these things could just start attacking us again at any moment.”

There’s a look shared between the four of them then, a silence assessment: they were all in one piece, but definitely beat up; the demobats hadn’t gotten their teeth in quite as deep as they had on Steve or Eddie the last time they were here, but they were all sporting gnarly, fresh cuts on their faces and arms from where they’d had to shield themselves. There was blood on everyone’s face but Eddie’s- or, well. Steve supposed it was Eddie’s blood on Eddie’s face, even though it oozed more like molasses from a tree than blood from a wound.

It’s much more of an ordeal getting out of the Upside Down than it is getting in, and by the time they’re breaching the surface of the lake and rowing back, Steve feels like he needs about fifty showers. He hopes he has enough time to get home and take at least one before some kind of lake bacteria clings onto his cuts.

The boys are waiting for them on the shore of the lake, station wagon abandoned with open doors, and Dustin nearly leaps onto the boat to help them off. Steve holds out a hand to stop him, and deposits the demobat carrier at his feet. “There’s your dissection project, Henderson.”

“What the hell happened in there?” Mike asks.

“We heard screaming,” Lucas says. “Or- well. We heard Eddie screaming.”

“From out here?” Nancy frowns as she hops off the boat. Robin hops out after her, and both she and Steve have to steady Eddie. He’s really not looking great; Steve curses himself for not stocking up on blood after he’d gotten off work yesterday. They’d probably be getting through the rest of their supply and then a steak or two, when they got home, and even then he was pretty sure Eddie was going to be out of commission for a bit.

The boys nod. “So,” Mike prompts again. “What happened?”

“Demobats attacked us,” Eddie says. He’s leaning heavily into Steve’s side, now that Robin’s let him go. “I just- screamed.”

“You said something, just before they came,” Nancy says. “Like you could feel them coming.”

“I could,” Eddie says, and then he frowns, forehead creasing. “Or- I don’t think that’s right. I think they could feel me.”

Robin makes a noise. “Oh, I don’t like that.”

“I don’t think we should take this to the hospital lab.” Dustin can’t properly pick up the metal carrier, so he’s sort of half-dragging it from the shore as they all move back towards where they’d parked. “They probably wouldn’t have dissection tools in there, anyway.”

“Which means we’re bringing it to school,” Lucas says, and he doesn’t sound thrilled about it. “They’ve got stuff for frogs in the science lab there.”

Dustin nods. “I can probably nab us the keys, I know where they keep them. You and Mike could, like, cause a distraction?”

Steve tunes out a little while the kids plan what is, devastatingly, nowhere near their first instance of breaking and entering or trespassing on school property, and turns his attention to Eddie. “You still with us, dude?”

“Unfortunately,” Eddie mumbles. “Not getting rid of me, Harrington, but I really think I need a fucking nap.”

Steve wraps an arm around his waist to keep him upright a bit better- and for no other reason, despite the flash of implication in the way that Robin cuts her gaze to him. “You can pass out as soon as we get you home, promise.”

“Thank god,” Eddie groans, and he slumps even more into Steve’s side.

Lucas helps Dustin load the demobat into the back of the station wagon, and Steve manages to wrangle Eddie into the front seat of his car. “Think I’m gonna take him straight home and, like, watch him today,” he says to Robin as he shuts the door behind him. “Cover for me with Keith?”

“I’ll tell him you got food poisoning,” she says, and then lowers her voice to ask, “We gonna talk about Halloween?”

Ah. “Sort of,” he says, and nods towards the Wheeler’s station wagon. “Should probably tell everyone at the same time, though.”

Robin’s eyes go wide. “Are- sorry, are you gonna tell them now?” she asks. “Jesus Christ, Harrington, you’ve got some balls.”

“What? Ew, Robin, don’t ever say that to me again,” Steve wrinkles his nose before he processes what she means. “I’m not talking about that, there’s just, like. Another thing we need to all talk about.”

Robin frowns, but follows him as he moves towards the rest of the group where they’re crowded around the trunk of the station wagon, the boys peering in at the demobat and Nancy stowing her gun.

“Eddie’s gonna tell his uncle he’s alive,” Steve announces, because he feels like band-aid ripping is the best way to go about this.

Nancy’s head immediately snaps up. “What?”

“He sort of- saw us, when we went out the other night,” Steve says. Nancy’s lips press into a thin line, and her eyebrows raise in a way that tells him he should really be bracing for impact. “He didn’t say anything, Eddie zoomed off pretty quick, so I think the poor guy thinks he was hallucinating or seeing ghosts or something, but.”

“But, he wants to go tell him he’s not,” Nancy finishes. Steve braces, and instead of getting a lecture about how stupid it was that they went out in public and got caught, Nancy just sighs. “He’s right.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“Eddie’s right,” Nancy says. “For wanting to tell his uncle. He deserves to know he’s alive.”

“Right,” Steve says slowly, expecting a ‘but’ to pop up at any second. It doesn’t, so he says it again, with more conviction. “Right.”

“When’re you gonna tell him?” Dustin asks.

Steve shrugs. “Haven’t figured that part out yet. Just… I promised him we’d tell you guys after we had our little expedition, and we’d go from there.”

“Try and make sure no one else sees you, when you do it,” Nancy says, but she lets it go at that, and Steve’s relieved. Honestly- he isn’t sure why he thought Nancy was going to be the one to protest it. She was the one who’d wanted to tell Barb’s parents, the one always seeking to make sure people knew the truth about the things happening in this town; of course she'd be on their side.

“For sure,” he promises, and nods to the kids. “You gonna stick with them while they do mad science tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately,” Nancy sighs.

“I will, too,” Robin offers. Steve raises his eyebrows at her, and she narrows her eyes in a way that dares him to say something. “Probably better to have two adults on hand.”

“You graduated literally four months ago,” Mike huffs.

“And I will very much appreciate the extra help, Robin,” Nancy says. Mike glares at her.

Robin flushes. Steve is so getting on her ass about this at work on Tuesday; he's already got his so, how's Nancy locked and loaded. Sweet retribution. “Yeah, for sure. No problem. Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

“I'm gonna take Eddie home before he oozes all over my seats.” he says, because if he stays any longer, he doesn't think he's gonna be able to wait until Tuesday to razz Robin, and the stakes on that at the moment aren't great.

He puts his bat back in the trunk before he gets in the car and cranks the engine, and he's surprised when Eddie speaks. “What was that all about?”

“Glad you're still conscious.” Steve lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “I was telling them about your uncle- that we're gonna fill him in.”

Eddie hums. His head is lolling a bit on the back of the seat, and it makes Steve's heart clench dangerously. “How'd they take it?”

“Nancy said you were right,” Steve says, because everyone deserves to know when they've gotten the Nancy Wheeler ‘Not An Idiot’ seal of approval on a plan of theirs. “That he deserves to know. No one has any protests.”

“Thank god,” Eddie says, and he slumps a little bit more. “Probably gonna be a few days. I’m already gonna spook him enough, I don’t wanna roll up looking like I’ve been through the meat grinder.”

“We can do it whenever you’re ready,” Steve promises, and he reaches out to ruffle Eddie’s hair a bit before he starts heading back up the shitty dirt road that connects Lover’s Lake to the highway. “I’ll take off, if I have to. Go with you.”

“You’re a good friend, Harrington,” Eddie says, soft, and leans into the touch. It takes effort for Steve to keep his eyes on the road.

The road from Lover’s Lake to Hawkins is a four lane that whittles its way slowly down to two, as you get into town, surrounded on both sides by trees. Steve’s driven it a million times, because Hawkins is small, and even if Lover’s Lake is out in the fucking boonies, even by Hawkins standards, you’re going to have to drive past it if you want to get fucking anywhere past the southside of town. So, he’s used to it being an empty stretch of road, and used to, when it’s not empty, people driving like absolute dickheads.

He doesn’t think much of it when another car comes racing up beside him, revving its engine. He flicks his gaze to it in the side mirror and grimaces when he sees an arm clad in green and gold hanging out the passenger side window. High school kids; varsity something. He rolls his eyes and turns his gaze back to the road, even when he feels the occupants of the car turning to look at him. Did he used to drive like that, like he owned the road and everything on it? He’s sure he did, even if he can’t be sure how he ever thought that; even King Steve had felt a lot of time feeling pretty damn small, in the scope of the world.

He’s only got a second to react when the car next to him abruptly cuts its wheel, and tries to run him off the road.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He narrowly avoids getting rammed into, shooting an arm out to seatbelt Eddie as they veer into the shoulder.

“What the fuck, man?” Eddie’s moving to sit up, sluggish, and Steve’s slamming the car in park to turn to check on him as the other car screeches to a halt, and the green-gold clad occupants get out, and their faces finally click.

“Get down,” he hisses and, instead, grabs a blanket from the backseat he’d gotten used to keeping there for the kids and tosses it over Eddie’s head as he pushes him a bit. Eddie, thankfully, gets the memo and slides down immediately, unbuckling as surreptitiously as he can and curling into the floor.

Steve gets out of the car, and slams the door behind him. His heart’s in his throat, fear breaking, but he doesn’t have to fake being angry. “What the fuck are you doing, man?”

“Harrington?” Despite the fact that he’d just tried to run him off the fucking road, the jock- former jock, Steve remembers now; he’d graduated last year- he recognizes as Andy seems confused by the sight of him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Driving home,” Steve says, leaning up against his door. He crosses his arms, and tries to block as much of the window as possible. “Seriously, man, are you drunk? You could’ve fucking killed me.”

“Thought we saw someone with you,” Andy’s friend- Chance? Chase; the only thing Steve can remember about them, really, was that they were on the basketball team with him for a year or two, and had been pretty tight with Jason Carver, which tells Steve exactly who they think they saw, and exactly what they’d be planning on doing about it.

“Should get your eyes checked, then,” he says. “Because I’m driving home alone. Really, you shouldn’t be on the road if you’re driving like that.”

Andy squints at him. “Did you know Eddie Munson?”

Steve sucks his teeth, and tries to figure out how he can play this. “Know him? Not really. Heard about him. We went to school at the same time.”

“Heard about Chrissy, didn’t you?” Chase asks. “And the Benson kid, and Patrick? Jason?”

“Everyone heard about them,” Steve says. “It sucks. Really rough, I feel bad for their families.”

“They said Munson died in that earthquake,” Andy says, and they’re approaching the car now. Steve straightens a bit, and wonders if he’s gonna be able to make it to his bat in time. “No one ever found a body, though.”

“They didn’t find a lot of bodies,” Steve says. “What the fuck are you trying to say?”

“Thought we saw him,” Chase says, nodding towards Steve’s car.

Steve laughs. It comes out sharp. “You’re fucking kidding me?” Neither of the guys say anything. “You’re fucking kidding me,” Steve tries again, and digs deep, and paints on King Steve so thick it hurts. “Do you fucking know me at all? Even if he was alive- which, like, if they haven’t found him by now? Fucking doubtful, why the fuck would I be driving Eddie Munson fucking anywhere?”

Chase and Andy stop moving, and seem to think it over for the first time. “Maybe he’s got you held hostage?” Andy suggests, but he seems to think it sounds weak, even as he says it.

Steve laughs again, and stands, spreading his arms wide. “Do I look like a hostage, to you?”

“Your face is all beat up,” Chase points out.

Shit. “I went up to a Alpha Kappa party at UIndy, for Halloween,” he says, praying to whoever was listening that there either was an Alpha Kappa fraternity at UIndy, or that these assholes wouldn’t know the difference. “Made out with the wrong dude’s girlfriend. Had to make a pretty hasty escape. Bushes.” He shrugs. “You know how it is.”

Andy and Chase share a look, and then Andy shrugs. “For sure, man,” he says. “Sorry. Just- you know. Wanted to be careful.”

“Shit’s been rough,” Steve says, and has to keep himself from falling to his knees with relief. “I don’t blame you for being jumpy. But, like. Maybe don’t go running people off the road again on a hunch that you saw a ghost.”

“Our bad, man,” Chase says, like that fucking fixes anything, but Steve’s willing to let it go if it gets them the fuck out of here. “Can’t be too careful. Gotta be ready to curb stomp that freak if he ever shows his face again.”

Steve’s blood runs cold. He should let it go.

“What the fuck that’s supposed to mean?”

Chase frowns at him, and huffs a laugh. “Just saying, man.”

“Just saying, what,” Steve asks again, because he’s very bad at doing the things he’s supposed to do and saying the right things.

“What’s it to you, dude?” Andy snorts, giving Steve a once over. “If he’s still out there, the freak deserves whatever’s coming to him.”

“Because you think he did something?” He’s calculating the distance to the trunk, now, and he’s put himself in a fucking horrendous position. There was no way he was going to be able to get to the bat from his trunk before someone started swinging, here, if they were going to come to blows.

“He fucking killed them,” Andy says. “We know it. What’s it to you, Harrington? I thought you didn’t know the little creep.”

“You don’t know shit,” Steve says, and there’s a laugh on the edge of it- not quite hysterical, but almost. “And I think you’re fucking crazy, man.”

Andy swings first, and Steve just barely manages to dodge it, but doesn’t dodge Chase’s fist, which comes in immediately after. He’s swinging back- connecting, half the time, but really, Steve’s never been a fighter. Tommy had been right when he called him a runner; even with how often he gets the shit beat out of him nowadays, Steve never quite learned the right way to fight back, when it was just normal guys hitting him. He could beat off a demo-whatever, no problem, but if it was some dude swinging on him, Russian or otherwise? Not really much recourse.

He’s really not sure how much of a beating he’s going to be taking here, and he’s mostly just hoping they don’t decide to go poking around in his car or whatever after they beat him into unconsciousness when, very suddenly there’s a flash and he’s not being beat up at all- and, that’s much scarier.

“Andy?” Chase has stopped punching Steve to look around for his friend, and there’s a scream from across the road- across the road, and up a tree somewhat, where Andy hangs from what Steve hopes is a sturdy branch.

“What the fuck, man!” Andy crows, vindicatingly high in pitch. Steve feels real hysterical laughter threatening to bubble up. “What the fuck!”

“What the fuck!” Chase echoes, and before Steve can let off the impending peal of laughter, he feels fingers digging into his shoulders, and a voice in his ear.

“Get in the fucking car and drive,” Eddie hisses, and Steve doesn’t have to be told twice. He’s scrambling to his feet as Chase is taking off across the road in Andy’s direction, and he’s pushing the gas pedal to the floor and taking off down the highway, hitting ninety and not sticking around to see how long Andy’s branch held out.

Steve’s laughing, he thinks. His head kind of hurts, and he can feel blood trickling down his chin from his split lip- no broken nose, thank fucking god.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Eddie says. He’s still sitting on the floor, hunched under the blanket Steve had thrown over him, and Steve can’t tell if he’s about to laugh or cry. “So fucking stupid, Harrington, why couldn’t you just walk away?”

“Did you hear the shit they were saying?” Steve says, in between bouts of laughter. He doesn’t know how to stop laughing; Eddie’s right, he’s so fucking stupid. “Fuck that, man, I wasn’t gonna let them get away with that.”

“You got this shit beat out of you!” Definitely laughter, then; Eddie’s laughing with him, head tipped back against the glove compartment. “You jackass, what the fuck was the plan there? Save my fucking reputation? I’m already dead, and they already hate me. You weren’t gonna prove shit.”

“I’m not really that much of a fighter,” Steve admits. “But, fuck, man, it wasn’t to prove any of that shit. It was to prove that you had people who weren’t gonna sit there and let them get away with saying all that shit about you. They don’t know shit- they couldn’t handle shit, even if they knew.”

“So fucking stupid,” Eddie says again, and now he’s slumping forward, forehead pressed to the seat in front of him. “You made me run a guy up a fucking tree; I’m gonna pass out.”

“Sorry,” Steve says, and he takes a hand off the wheel to squeeze Eddie’s shoulder. He feels cold. Definitely gonna have to plow through some blood, when they get home.

“Next time, man, don’t play white knight to a dead guy,” Eddie snorts. “Jesus fucking Christ. You have work tomorrow, don’t you?”

Steve shrugs. “If anyone asks, I’ll just give them the same story.”

“Bushes, you know how it is,” Eddie says, putting on his Steve-impression voice again. Steve really doesn’t think he sounds like that. “So fucking stupid.”

That starts them off on another fit of laughter, and they’re still laughing when they pull into the garage. They’re very suddenly not laughing, though, when Steve goes to open Eddie’s door, and instead of standing he falls, knees buckling underneath him. Steve immediately drops and throws Eddie’s arm over his shoulder, lifting him and mostly dragging him the rest of the way inside. “Let’s get some blood in you, man, come on. Not too much farther.”

He helps Eddie maneuver his way onto the couch before going into the kitchen, and there’s a spike of something cold and terrible in his stomach when a near-empty jug of blood stares back at him. He knows without having to ask that it’s not going to be enough; Eddie's exerted himself too much and was hurt. If it’d taken him nearly two gallons of blood to come back from the brink last time, uninjured, what the fuck was this little and a couple steaks going to do.

Steve reaches up to scrub at his face, and his hand comes back red. He’d forgotten he was bleeding.

He has a horrible idea.

It’s the best idea they’ve got.

“Good news and bad news,” he says. Eddie doesn’t move much, but does loll his head in Steve’s direction. “Bad news, there’s no fucking way we’re gonna stretch the shit from the butcher we’ve got left to do anything for you, right now.”

“Shit,” Eddie groans. “I really don’t see how you can have good news to go with that.”

“The good news,” Steve says, sitting on the other end of the couch. He’s got no fucking clue how to do this; did he need to put a tarp down or something. “Is that we’ve got a fresh supply right here that I think is gonna work way better.”

Eddie squints at him. Steve slaps the side of his neck a few times. Eddie’s eyes go full-moon wide. “Absolutely not.”

“We don’t have any other options, dude,” Steve says. “Unless you want to go shred every piece of pork loin we’ve got stocked in the freezer and try to lick the fucking gallon dry in the fridge, and hope that tides you over until I can get back to the butcher.”

“You’re already hurt,” Eddie says. He tries pushing himself up, but goes right back down. “Fuck that. I’m not hurting you more; get the rope and I’ll just- be fucking hungry, until you can go out tomorrow or something.”

“You’re hurt,” Steve shoots back. “And we don’t know if he’s even gonna have shit to sell me, tomorrow. At least, if we do this, we know you’re gonna be okay until I can figure something out.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Eddie says, and he’s curling in on himself a little, now. “I’m not going to hurt you, Harrington; why do you have to be the fucking hero, all the time?”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Steve echoes. “This isn’t hurting me- this is me fucking… consenting to a blood donation. I used to do all the school blood drives and shit.”

Eddie snorts. “This isn’t the same, and you know that.”

“It’s basically the same,” Steve says. “You saved my ass today, Munson- twice. My turn.”

Eddie makes a distressed sound, but he also starts sitting up again, and Steve reaches out to help pull him up. “I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to stop myself,” he says, voice quiet and low. “Don’t let me fucking- drain you, man. If I’m not stopping, you’re gonna have to stop me.”

“Promise,” Steve says, because he also doesn’t want to be exsanguinated today. “C’mon, get up here.”

Neither of them seem to be sure how to do this, with Eddie not being able to hold himself up on his own; there’s not a wealth of great angles and, eventually, Eddie just gets frustrated and puts a hand on either of Steve’s shoulders so that he can swing a leg over and deposit himself into Steve’s lap.

Steve tries very hard to feel absolutely nothing about this. He doesn’t do a great job.

Eddie moves one of his hands in to rest on the side of Steve’s neck, thumb brushing his chin. It’s probably a bad sign that he already feels a little lightheaded, color flooding to his cheeks. He closes his eyes and tries to will it away, force the blood elsewhere.

“Stay with me, Harrington,” Eddie says. The words are spoken directly into the other side of Steve’s neck, lips brushing skin in a way that makes Steve very alert, very suddenly, and makes him have to focus on sending his blood in a different direction entirely as it all threatens to rush downward. He tilts his head a bit to give Eddie more room to work with, and Eddie’s thumb is brushing his lips now. He wants to open his mouth and let it in. He doesn’t.

He thinks there should be some fight or flight kicking in, when he feels Eddie bite down- feels fangs pierce skin. There should be some sort of deeply ingrained human instinct to kick and flail, to try and push Eddie off, something.

Maybe Steve’s a little broken, though, because all he does is curl a hand into Eddie’s hair and hold him there.

Steve thinks, somewhat hysterically as he feels Eddie’s tongue move against his neck, that this is kind of a lot like getting a hickey. He’s never been much of a hickey guy, but he’s gotten with more than a few girls who seemed to take giving him one as a point of pride. He hadn’t really gotten the point; it always made him feel a little used, looking in the mirror later and grimacing at the dark red-purple marks.

He thinks, now, that the point might be feeling a little used, and for the first time he really, really doesn’t mind the idea of it.

He was probably going to have to figure that out, later.

The hand that isn’t tangled into Eddie’s hair settles on his waist, and it feels a little like magic, because he thinks he can feel the heat returning to Eddie’s body, like a heater slowly humming to life in the dead of winter. He wants to laugh again, make some kind of deliriously relieved noise, but he doesn’t trust whatever comes out of his mouth right now not to be a horrifyingly embarrassing moan. He bites his lip instead, and immediately fails, noise between a moan and hiss of pain slipping out when he bites directly into his split lip.

There’s a small bit of blood pooling forth from his lip again. He almost wants to direct Eddie there instead.

It takes him a while to start feeling lightheaded, and Steve figures that that’s a good point to stop. He tugs at Eddie’s hair, once. “Buffet’s closing, buddy, come on.”

Eddie doesn’t immediately pull back, so Steve pushes his hands deeper into Eddie’s hair and pulls, which does the trick. Eddie comes away from his neck with a whine that makes Steve feel a little delirious. His pupils are blown so wide that the black is swallowing the brown of his iris, and he’s never looked more like something out of a horror movie, Steve thinks.

It’s kind of hot.

Man. He’s definitely going to have to figure that out, later.

Steve blinks a few times, tries to kick his brain back to the right head, and refocuses on Eddie’s face. The cuts from earlier are gone; it’s as if Eddie had never gotten a scratch on him. “That’s fucking freaky,” he mumbles, and shifts his hand out of Eddie’s hair to run his fingers down Eddie’s cheek, just to check.

Eddie makes a distressed noise, and almost rolls into the floor getting out of Steve’s lap. “Fuck.”

“You okay?” Steve moves to stand, but now he’s the one that’s woozy, and he ends up going right back down. “Did it work?”

Eddie laughs, humorless and rueful, and moves back towards Steve with a trepidation that makes it seem like Steve’s the one that’s going to bite him. “Yeah, man. Yeah, it worked. Really fucking well. Feel- normal.”

“Then we’re good,” Steve says, and he reaches out. “You’re okay. We’re fine.”

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Eddie says. He moves back within grabbing range, though, and Steve manages to take his hand.

“I’m good,” he promises. “Super not the worst I’ve ever felt and, like. It’s blood. I’ll get it back.” He’s pretty sure that’s how it works. “Totally gonna need a hand with the stairs, though. I think it’s nap time.”

Eddie exhales harshly, and Steve tries to wheedle a smile out of him with one of his own. It sort of works; Eddie smiles, and it’s small and rigid, but it’s there. Steve’ll work on it. “Sure thing, big boy. Definitely nap time.”

It feels weird for Steve to be the one getting carried, but he and Eddie manage a side-step up the stairs and to Steve’s bedroom. He has enough sense left in him to be a little embarrassed by the state of it; he knows that Eddie was in there on Friday, getting dressed for the movies, but that doesn’t make him feel all that much better. “I promise I’m usually cleaner.”

That gets an earnest laugh out of Eddie as he deposits Steve onto his bed. “I’m sure you are.”

“I am,” Steve insists. “I usually clean up when, like, important people are coming over.”

He doesn’t get a chance to read the look that Eddie gives him before the other man shoves him, and he’s staring up at his ceiling instead. “Go to sleep, Harrington,” he says. “I’ll, like. Check in in a few hours, make sure you’re still breathing.”

“G’night,” Steve says, even though he knows it’s probably just barely afternoon. He wasn’t really the napping type, but he doesn’t think that that’s going to matter much, because his eyes are already falling shut.

“Night.” The words are spoken close to his ear, and Steve thinks- dreams, probably- that he can feel the brush of lips on his forehead before he drifts off. It’s a nice dream.

#steddie #steveeddie #vampire eddie munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #oyt/swm #jack writes

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pred1059 · 1 year

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Just A Chance Chapter Fourteen

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Secret Report: Marluxia II

Of all the secrets kept by the upper echelons of the Organization, the details of its founding have been the most vexing. Should the Organization be led by such beings? Chained to their past, yet they refuse to speak of it?

Larxene understood. Even though her prior life was painful, she strives to not be bound by it. To exist on her own terms. To fight against it. It was her perspective which informed my own. Adrift without memory. Yet determined to work to some purpose.

And I have found it. To be truly free in the universe. And the Keyblade shall grant me that freedom once it is mine.

And it’s power will be mine. One way or another.

Lexaeus held on to his weapon for dear life, as Vexen no doubt did as well. “The superior? No! His heartless!” Vexen backed away from Ansem, watching with wide eyes. Would he speak to them? Attack them? Call the heartless to his side? At this point, anything could happen.

Ansem brushed off the last pieces of his frozen prison as he looked over the two of them. “Well now...these are faces I did not expect to see for some time. Echoes of what once was, desperately trying to justify their existence.” Ansem held out his arms and from him darkness swirled around the room and the walls became overshadowed. The carvings on them eroding as the darkness became saturated. Vexen cringed and Lexaeus braced himself as the room was overcome by the darkness. It was only a matter of time before that power to come crashing down on the two of them.

But then just as quickly, the darkness was repelled. All that Ansem had momentarily warped was returned to normal, and that power was forced back into him. Ansem looked at the room in surprise. “This magic? It’s—!”

Lexaeus snarled as he built up power again. He’d be foolish not to take advantage of the reprieve. But just as soon as he started, from out of Ansem’s shadow emerged a hulking figure who grabbed Lexaeus by the throat. Strength stifled, he struggled against the guardian while Ansem simply smiled and crossed his arms. “Of course. That sly fox.”

Vexen was practically cowering at this point, desperately holding the shield between Ansem and himself. But with a wave of Ansem’s hand, the guardian released Lexaeus, who gasped out as he could breathe again, “Wh...why?”

“It seems through your intervention, I have been provided a singular opportunity. So I shall permit your survival for now.” Again, darkness gathered around Ansem, but this time he vanished into it.

Lexaeus got to his feet and looked to Vexen, still clutching his shield. Gathering his wits, he asked, “What now?”

Vexen looked to Lexaeus, words failing him. “We...we..” Until finally he hit on a solution. “We tell Marluxia that Riku escaped and that we are working on locating him.”

Lexaeus frowned at the suggestion, crossing his arms. “And when that fails and he finds out the truth?”

“We will have thought of a more permanent solution before then!” Vexen barked as he began to pace. “There must be something! Anything!

“Well then by all means Vexen. Tell me.”

The two of them looked over to the end of the room where Marluxia had emerged from darkness. He glared at them, hands balled into fists.

“Do you have a solution for this?”

Roxas stood at the door with a smile on his face. “Same time tomorrow? Maybe earlier?”

Naminé simply gave a nod from her chair. “Whenever you can.” The smile from the memory they had created hadn’t left her yet. It was the only memory of that fictional childhood she truly made because she wanted to. And with Roxas, it was the only one she knew was real.

But as Roxas reached for the door handle it was flung open, and on the other side stood a very unhappy Axel. “Both of you, come with me. Now.”

Something in her gut sank at the instruction. Had they been found out? Did Marluxia and Larxene realize she had gone astray of their plan? Was the only good thing in her life being taken away? But all she could find herself able to say as she stood up was, “What’s wrong?”

“Ansem’s alive, and he’s running around Castle Oblivion.”

The news caused her to pale, clutching her notebook to her chest. Immediately, she began to follow Axel as he walked down the hall. Roxas, was just bewildered as he tried to keep up.“Wha—? Wait. Who’s Ansem?”

Of course, the Organization probably wouldn’t have any reason to tell him about a dead man. She explained as best as she could, “He was once a wise king before he fell to darkness when investigating the heart. He turned himself into a heartless and led the others before Sora defeated him.” Roxas stopped for a moment, and Naminé paused with him. “Is something wrong?”

“Investigating the heart,” he began to mutter as he rubbed his chin until recognition lit up in Roxas’ eyes, “Axel, was the king of you old home named—?”

“Ansem? Yep. And his Nobody is in charge of our Organization.” Axel beckoned the two back down the hall with him as he continued to walk. “Anyway, looks like dying to Sora didn’t take,” Axel muttered as they arrived at their destination, “So now we need to figure out what to do.”

“Are you serious?!”

Zexion’s voice heard in the hallway caused the three of them to wince. Opening the doors, they saw everyone else gathered another one of the crystal balls. Vexen was pacing back and forth, and Lexaeus had his weapon summoned to his side. Larxene had her arms crossed unmoved by the outburst. “I’m completely serious. We can’t discuss this with Xemnas.”

“Complete…?!” Zexion sputtered and waved his hand, “The heartless threat is not something the Organization can simply ignore! If Ansem has returned—!”

“We must be as thorough as possible in our report to him,” Vexen spoke up, trying to placate Zexion despite his own anxiety.

Lexeaus continued as he observed the crystal ball cycling between rooms in Castle Oblivion, “If he remains here, we must continue our observations until Ansem departs before making our report.”

Larxene smirked as she put a hand to her hip. “You mean so you can both save face after letting him get loose in the first place?”

“Regardless, I concur,” Marluxia’s voice caused everyone to go so silent, “As acting authority over our operations here, I decree we shall not discuss this with Xemnas until we can speak with certainty of his intentions.”

And from the ensuing silence, it was clear that his command was understood. Even if some of the other members of the Organization did not agree with it.

“Anyway Axel, you and Roxas didn’t miss mu—,” Larxene stopped as she looked to the three of them. And more specifically towards her as her eyes narrowed. “Why is Naminé here?”

Marluxia stepped forward, and gave Naminé a more pointed look. “I want to know her response to this news.”

To be sure, the real question Marluxia had posed to her was something she considered occasionally. More and more once Kairi had arrived at the castle and began to fight her way through floor after floor. All for the sake of her friends that she cherished.

And there was someone Naminé cherished.

“I’ll do it.” Everyone looked at her as she answered Marluxia, “I want to learn Kairi’s power.” And for a moment, her eyes met Roxas’ own that looked at her in surprise. “I want to use the Key—”

“Excuse me!?” Larxene shouted as she walked towards her, arms crossed. “How could someone as weak as you learn how to use a keyblade?”

She flinched at the rebuttal. Naminé didn’t have any kind of real experience fighting. Kairi had occasionally joined Sora and Riku’s play fights in the past. But she had no real way to tap into it with Sora’s memory alone. Still, Zexion seemed to nod at what she said. “If her original self can use the keyblade, it would stand to reason that she would also have that power.”

“Yeah right! This frail little—?”

“That is correct, Zexion,” Marluxia cut off Larxene’s latest diatribe with a raised hand. “It is why I asked her to consider this possibility long ago, when she made it known to me that the princess could make her way here. To see if she could find some way to acquire some semblance of the princesses’ power.” And that was her one lifeline in this. That Marluxia was even willing to entertain the possibility of her gaining this power. He looked her dead in the eyes, hands folded behind his back. “You are certain of this decision?”

“I am.”

Naminé had never been more certain of anything in her life.

Roxas began to smile as he looked towards her and reached out a hand. “Hey, maybe..”

“Roxas, shut up.” Larxene snapped and walked over to Marluxia. “You. Me. Talk. Now.” At his nod, the two vanished into darkness.

Larxene was already at her wits end with all of the changes in their plan. While Roxas’ interruption might have been self-inflicted, the boy was able to pull something together. Everything that came from that, however? With the princess and Ansem arriving on the scene? Part of her could understand why Marluxia considered pushing Naminé to get some training, if only to delay any kind of kidnapping.

But a keyblade?!

“I’m just going to get to the point,” she asked as the two of them arrived in Marluxia’s chambers, “What are you thinking?!”

Marluxia, unflappable as ever, simply crossed his arms and closed his eyes. “With the viability of maintaining control over Sora diminishing, as well as the new threat introduced by Ansem, our circumstances have changed. Thus, we will need to adjust our plans accordingly.”

“By making Naminé stronger? We can’t just let that happen.” She walked over to him and began to poke at his chest to punctuate her point. “If she gains the power of a keyblade, it would only be a matter of time before she escaped.” His eyes opened in a snap to meet her own, as she brought up the bigger elephant in the room. “Or worse, finds a way to improve her existing power.”

For once, he was silent and began to mull the point over. Eventually however, he gently pushed Larxene’s hand back. “That has always been a peril in integrating her into our plans. Which is why we have taught her respect for our rule.” She couldn’t help but smirk and let Marluxia move her hand back. “But it must be tempered with enough motivation so that such respect does not turn to disdain.”

With a sigh, Larxene conceded and walked out of his personal space, “Right. There’s a balance to it. Push her too far and she won’t care how much she gets hurt if she can hurt us back.” As much as she favored the stick, there had to be a bit of carrot in situations like these.

Which they had covered at first. “Originally, the memories she was fixated on were to be her reward to tide her over until Sora arrived.” Marluxia explained. “But now there is a growing possibility this may not come to pass.”

And with a snap of her fingers, it all became clear to Larxene. “That’s why you’re offering her this. So she won’t turn against us or Roxas to see Sora.” But in a moment, she paused, “Though I’m not sure she’ll turn against the rookie.” Marluxia raised an eyebrow, so she continued. “She gets defensive about his visits. I’ve got a feeling she likes him.”

“And he seems to be continuing his visits,” Marluxia nodded. Then began to smile. “Depending on how the situation develops, this may be something we can turn to our advantage.”

“So I’ll keep an eye on her?” Larxene opened a portal to return back.

“As I will watch him.” Marluxia nodded as he led the way. “Together, we will see if either of them are truly worthy.”

A moment of silence passed after Castle Oblivion’s leaders departed from whatever Larxene was unhappy about. Roxas wasn’t sure he cared much about it. Vexen and Lexaeus looked to each other before Lexaeus broke the silence. “I assume we should proceed to scour the castle for any sign of Ansem.”

Vexen clasped his hands together and began to eagerly nod. “Of course! Of course! I should be able to reconfigure my equipment to monitor for his darkness given time! So I should get a head start on that! Lexaeus?” He conjured another dark portal and the two quickly made their exit.

Zexion sighed at their departure. “I just hope that we actually can control this situation before it becomes worse.”

That just left the four of them. Axel was left scratching the back of his head chuckling, “Well, assuming Marluxia signs off, you’re sure you want to do this?”

Zexion crossed his arms and began to ponder. “This training is likely not going to be easy. I’m not sure where we could even begin in instructing you to call upon the keyblade.”

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting I’ve got a keyblade?” Roxas pointed to himself. If he was a part of the Organization because of that power, then he needed to live up to the responsibility of being the only person who had it. “I should be able to help Naminé with calling on her own.”

“Roxas...Thank you.”

It was strange. They were simple words of gratitude. But Roxas couldn’t help a warmth gathering in his cheeks just hearing them.

Axel raised an eyebrow and began to tap the crystal ball. “So what made you want to get in the fight? Why not just ask someone to guard you?”

Naminé shook her head. “If things are changing so much, then I need to change too. I can’t just stay in that room and wait for everything to happen.”

“How else could I help you too?”

Roxas’ eyes widened. It was a whisper so quiet he was sure no-one else heard them. But he was certain Naminé was looking at him as she spoke.

Before he could say anything however, a dark portal appeared again. Out stepped Larxene and Marluxia, the former in a much calmer mood. Marlxia looked at Naminé, “Training you may be a worthwhile pursuit Naminé. But it is dependent on one last question.” He looked over to Roxas and asked firmly, “You are the only one with the power of a keyblade. Would you assist in Naminé’s training?”

“I will.”

Roxas had never been more certain of anything in his life.

#my fanfiction #KH Fanfiction #Kingdom Hearts #fanfiction #fanfic #what if #Just A Chance #roxas #naminé #roxas x namine #roxas/namine #rokunami #axel #kh axel #zexion #kh zexion

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 2 years

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U N P L A N N E D, the results

Harry looked up at the blue sky, a plane overhead on approach to LAX and a breeze through the palm trees on Y/N’s street. He didn’t know if it was cute or creepy that he was sitting on her front step. He hoped it was the former.

Her car pulled up just before 6pm, she slung her work bag over her shoulder and shielded her eyes from the sun.

“Hi, sorry to just show up,” he stood when she got to the end of the walkway, fishing for her keys when he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I uh–Dave called, the results are in.”

She froze at that, Harry’s heart fluttered even though he knew the answer.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah–s’me, obviously. He said the test was conclusive and I am definitely the father.” He let out an awkward laugh, lifted his hand to scratch the back of his neck.

Y/N sighed, nodded for a second and looked up at him. Was she upset? Was she annoyed that he hadn’t believed her? Harry figured his best move was to say something.

“I knew you were telling the truth, but–it’s good. Now we don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“Yeah,” she plucked the house key from her ring, stepped around him to unlock the door. “That’s good. We can just move forward now.”

He nodded, stepped in behind her. He let the door swing shut, a cool reprieve from the June heat.

“Was Dave mad?”

“No–he didn’t call you?”

“I haven’t checked,” she walked to put her bag on the couch, shrugged out of the blazer she wore and unclipped her company ID from her pants.

“He just said we should think about some logistics.” Harry leaned on the counter, watched as Y/N moved to thumb through some mail.

She looked up, “logistics?”

“Yeah–some more custody stuff, more financial agreements. Living situation.”

She tossed some of the envelopes in the recycling bin near the fridge, looked over her shoulder at Harry. “Living situation? What about it?”

“I mean–if I’m on the road, would you come with me? How do we work out custody when I’m out of the States, that kind of thing.”

Her eyes went wide, like the thought hadn’t really crossed her mind and like Harry’s words brought the same knot of anxiety to her stomach that he’d wrestled with on the drive over.

“I don’t know how we figure that out–I mean, that’s so far away and we might change our minds about how to do things once, you know, we’re actually parents.”

“Right, no, I know. Just some stuff to think about, but, it’s fine. I was just in the neighborhood and figured you’d be getting home soon. Do you want to get dinner or something?”

“It’s Tuesday.”

Harry nodded, unaware of whatever she was implying. “It is.”

“I have take out with Glenne and Lexi every Tuesday. Unless one of us fucks something up and has to stay late at work. Which I did–but, Glenne will probably be here soon.”

He laughed at that, nodded before he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Got it. I should go, then.”

She made a bit of a face at that, moved over to wash her hands at the sink. Harry wished he could take his words back. It wasn’t that he wanted to go, more that he didn’t want to intrude on her scheduled time with friends and certainly didn’t want to stress her out any more than he already had.

The doorbell rang, though, only three seconds after the water shut off. She rounded the counter to open it, Harry raised his eyebrows and offered Glenne a toothy grin when she stepped inside, sunglasses nearly falling off her face as she balanced the two pizzas with a six pack of beer on top.

“Here,” Y/N said, reaching to lighten her load. Harry stepped out of the way and Glenne let the pizzas slide onto the counter.

“Jesus–traffic was fucking terrible and I’m pretty sure I found three gray hairs today.”

“Well, nice to see you too, Glenney,” Harry teased, heading for the door. “I”ll catch you all later.”

“Bye, Harry,” Y/N called, watching him tug the door shut when he went back into the heat.

Okay, so maybe showing up at her house unannounced was too much. He got back into his car, pressed a button so it would come to life and stared at the vents when the cold air started to blow. He pulled out onto the street after a few seconds and pressed a button, dial.

It rang four times before Jeff picked up.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hi,” Harry greeted. “I just wanted to call because I talked to Dave.”

“Oh,” that piqued his interest. “Yeah? What’d he say? I got a voicemail from him but I haven’t listened yet.”

“Results are in and I’m the father,” Harry said it in a sing-song voice, he could picture Jeff rolling his eyes or stifling back a laugh. “I just left Y/N’s.”

“Left her house?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. Was that an issue? “Why?”

“I just didn’t know you were, like, hanging out with her.”

“Well, I just wanted to see her since the results are in.”

“Right.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah--what are you up to now? Do you want to come over? Glenne’s out for dinner and we should probably talk about the album.”

Harry didn’t mention that he knew Glenne was out. Instead, he agreed and turned right for Jeff’s neighborhood, fifteen minutes until he pulled in the driveway and knocked on the door.

They sat on the patio and Jeff laughed when he offered Harry a beer.

“You’re really not gonna drink?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I already told you.”

Jeff nodded like he was surprised, Harry watched him for a second, uncomfortable with the tension that was still present. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? With me?”

“With you or with us or--between you and Y/N?”

“What? No.”

“Then why have you been so weird?”

“Weird?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, eyes scanning Jeff’s face. “Weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You’re not being not weird.”

Jeff sighed, leaned back in his chair and took a sip, Corona. “It’s a lot to adjust to, you know? And now you and Y/N seem close.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No, no, of course not. I just--I didn’t expect that, I guess.”

“She’s having my baby, Jeff.”

“I’m aware.”

“I have to get to know her, I have to have a relationship with her and I, for one, would like for it to be a healthy one. A good one.”

“I want that too,” Jeff nodded. “I just worry, is all.”

“About?”

He shrugged, looked around his backyard like he’d find the right words hidden amidst the manicured lawn or the poolside gardens. “About you. And her. And what will happen if things go well or if things don’t go well.”

Harry let a huff of air escape his nose, frustration rising when he stared at his friend. “As in?”

“As in feelings, emotional feelings.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Here we go, another lecture from Jeff, king of all relationship advice.

Jeff liked Y/N, he didn’t have anything against her. What worried him, truthfully, was the fact that Harry had a tendency to fall hard and he had a tendency to fall fast. He loved intensely and wholeheartedly and that scared the shit out of Jeff now that the object of Harry’s possible affection was the girl who was pregnant with his baby.

Forget the baby. Jeff wasn’t even worried about that. He knew Harry would step up to the plate and he knew that dealing with headlines and rumors would be a nightmare, but he knew they could handle it.

What scared him the most was the possibility that Harry would fall in love with Y/N and get his heart broken. It’d make great music, make another great album, but it wouldn’t make raising a baby easy. None of this was going to be easy.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Harry shook his head.

“I don’t?” Jeff asked, bullshit.

“No. I don’t have emotional feelings for her.”

Jeff didn’t say anything, he just kept his eyes on Harry. It typically didn’t take him that long to crack.

“I mean, I don’t think I do. I don’t know.”

Jeff nodded, there it was. Harry always cracked under pressure.

“I like her, she’s nice, she’s funny, she’s a good person.”

Jeff nodded again. “I agree with all of that.”

“And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to her.”

Another nod.

“But how am I supposed to tell if it’s real or--” he shrugged, “a situationally induced rush of hormones because she’s having my baby?”

Jeff looked at his friend, for the first time in a long time, speechless.

“Nevermind,” Harry said quickly. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“You don’t really know her,” Jeff pointed out.

“Well, I’m starting to. I know she likes red wine better than white and I know that she’s anxious about all of this and I know that when I say something stupid she rolls her eyes and she likes milkshakes.”

Jeff tried to level with him. “It makes sense that you’re thinking a lot about her, I mean, you’d be crazy not to be. But just because she’s having your baby doesn’t mean this is a fairytale or something.”

Harry pushed his lips out in thought, pointer finger raised in the air. “It also doesn’t mean it can’t be a fairytale.”

Jeff offered an unimpressed glance, really? Always a hopeless romantic.

“I’m eighty-percent fucking with you,” Harry laughed.

“And you’re twenty-percent serious,” Jeff nodded. “Which is the part that makes me worry.”

“Alright, well I’ll let you know if something shifts and I start having emotional feelings.”

Jeff nodded, you better, but he took another sip of his beer and opened up his laptop. They looked at a few calendars and went over a few emails, the consensus was clear: push the album. Align the release so Harry can be done with promo and have time off after Y/N gives birth.

A few phone calls to the other people on Harry’s team, the label, an explanation that Harry had a family emergency that made a delay in the album release an absolute necessity, at least, that’s how Jeff phrased it.

So Harry drove home that night and wondered what Y/N talked about with Glenne and Lexi. Baby names? Her promotion? Him? He climbed the stairs to his second floor and realized that out of all of those things, he hoped her face lit up the most when it was his name on her tongue.

A few mornings later Harry was stirred awake by the ringing on his phone on full volume. He grimaced, reached a hand forward and smacked it a few times, swiping his thumb across the screen when he looked at the clock: 8:20am.

“Hi,” he said, voice groggy and low.

Y/N’s voice was high-pitched and frantic, immediately pulling Harry into a more solid state of consciousness.

“Everything tastes like pennies.”

“What?” He cleared his throat, sitting up in bed. “Why? What do you mean?”

“I mean everything tastes like pennies.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything,” she whined a little. “Sorry–I know it’s early. I just don’t have anyone else to panic with.”

“Where’s Lexi? Are you home alone?”

“She’s on set already. She’s sick of hearing me complain about symptoms anyway. And I guess,” she let the real reason slip out, “I haven’t talked to you in a few days.”

He laughed a little. A quiet one, an early morning, half-asleep laugh when a smile crept onto his face. Harry felt the rush of blood in his veins, the thought that she missed him and wanted to talk to him made it feel like his heart was doing cartwheels.

“I know, love–you’re the one who’s been too busy to see me,” he reminded. “What are you doing after work tonight?”

“I dunno,” she said flatly. “Probably googling what the fuck is wrong with me.”

“Don’t think anything’s wrong with you. I can call Dr. Weston, though, if you want.”

“No,” she said quickly, defensively. “It’s fine. I’ll just google it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“It’s fine, Harry, I should go anyway--I’ve got to finish getting ready for work. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah--let me know if it goes away, or if you need anything,” he tried one more time.

She hung up, Harry stared at the curtains across the room, sun already poking through. He was awake, he decided, might as well make use of it.

Google, new tab: pregnant mouth taste like pennies. Thousands of hits, he skimmed a few articles and sent the one that he liked best.

Harry (8:31am): Link: Metallic Taste in Mouth during Pregnancy (Dysgeusia) - whattoexpect.com

He went downstairs and made himself coffee, ego slightly wounded by the fact that she didn’t reply. He tried again.

Harry (9:04am): Just read more about it. They say it happens in the first trimester so that’s probably what it is, right?

Harry (9:05am): I mean, you didn’t bite your tongue, right? It’s not blood? Does it taste like blood at all? This other article is saying some people taste blood.

Finally, a reply.

Y/N L/N (9:07am): Yeah it’s like metal. That’s probably it! If it doesn’t go away I’ll call Dr. Weston.

Harry (9:08am): Okay, let me know. Do you want to come to mine for dinner tonight?

He held his breath for a few seconds, smiled when she agreed and said she’d be there around 6pm. He texted her the entry code for the gate and he did his best to look busy when she walked in. He couldn’t just be sitting around like he’d been anxiously awaiting her arrival all day (even if that was true).

She sat and watched him cook, teased him about the new recipe he’d found online but smiled when he turned around, dish towel over his shoulder.

“Can I actually show you something?”

She sipped at the water he’d offered upon arrival, eyed him warily as he put the spatula down and headed for the living room. “I’m not a fan of surprises, to be honest.”

“Noted,” he smiled–but he tucked the fun fact away and decided to not let it deter him. He reached into a bag and retrieved what he’d bought earlier that day. It was white, tiny yellow ducks in a row. It was rolled up, but when she pulled the string and flattened it out, he spoke.

“S’a onesie. I saw it out at some store–not a big deal. Just thought it was cute.”

There weren’t tears this time, which Harry almost expected. Instead, she smiled up at him and held his gaze for a second. “It’s adorable.”

“Figured she’ll look good in it.”

“Or he–yellow,” she laughed. “Very gender neutral of you.”

One day there’d be a baby inside of it. Ten fingers, ten toes, eyes and a nose and a mouth that cried for both of them. Harry avoided her gaze for a second, she folded the onesie back up and let out a breath when he went back to the stove. “Are you scared at all?”

Scared? Harry felt his eyebrows raise but he let out a soft laugh, stirring the contents of the dish. Honesty hour, he decided: “Terrified.”

“Really? You’ve been so–calm, this whole time.”

He nodded a bit to himself, proud that his acting skills were getting better each day and hoping that Y/N’s observation just meant she felt calm in his presence. In reality, Harry felt anything but calm.

He shrugged, turned the burner on low and rested his elbows on the counter. “I think I didn’t want to freak you out. I could tell from the start that you were losing it, really. Going quite mental,” he laughed. “I just wanted to be there for you.”

“Well…I appreciate it,” she nodded slightly. “I’ve needed that.”

He nodded, the sun was setting behind her, a warm glow in the living room when he felt the same fire in his veins. He didn’t say anything when he walked around the counter and let his arms drape over her shoulders, pulling her face into his chest. He didn’t say anything when he kissed the top of her head and breathed in her scent.

She didn’t push him away, didn’t tense under his touch. “She’s a cherry now.”

He went back to the stove and nodded. “I know,” he admitted. “I got the same app.”

She smiled a little at that, bit her lip when she kept his gaze for a moment. “Soon she’ll be a pear.”

“One day she’ll be a cantaloupe.”

She feigned a look of fear. “That’ll be tough.”

“I think you’ll be alright.” Quiet for a second, then he corrected himself. “We’ll be alright.”

“I’m freezing,” she said, reaching forward to push away the vent. Harry took a left turn into Jeff and Glenne’s neighborhood, palm trees lined the posh street and Y/N fidgeted uncomfortably against the leather interior.

“You were hot three seconds ago,” he reminded with a smirk, turning the knob to lessen air in the car.

“I’m pregnant,” she turned to look at him quickly. “And it’s your fault.”

Harry smiled, felt the dimple form on his cheek when he glanced over at her through his sunglasses. “You know, for someone who said she wouldn’t hold that against me, you’ve done a lot of holding that against me.”

She rolled her eyes a little, tried to fight the smile but then she sighed and sank further into his passenger seat.

He’d shown up unannounced. At first he told her he just wanted ice cream. All the good places were near her house and he figured the mere mention of it would spark a craving.

She already seemed suspicious when he knocked on her door, even more so when he told her to bring a bathing suit. But still she relented, even after she’d declined his invitation to Jeff and Glenne’s Fourth of July party last week.

Now he offered a reassuring smile in their driveway and led her into the backyard. Lexi was already there, red solo cup tilted towards the sky when they both walked up behind her.

“Look who decided to come out,” she teased, letting an arm drape over Y/N’s shoulders. “Love you, mean it!”

Glenne appeared too, Harry got tugged aside by a friend, someone he hadn’t seen in months and then another smiling face. Hi, great, good to see you, how long has it been? He glanced over his shoulder, was she alright? Was she suddenly resentful he’d dragged her all the way to Laurel Canyon?

She laughed at something Lexi said, Glenne’s sister was a few feet over and then Matt tugged Harry’s attention back. “Album’s coming out soon, right?”

“Oh, no, uh--change of plans,” Harry laughed a little. “Probably fall or winter now.”

“I thought everything was pretty much finished?”

“It is, was--is--” why was he explaining himself to one of Jeff’s old co-workers who he got high with twice? “Works better to do fall or winter now--you know--scheduling shit.”

Because I got a girl pregnant.

A knot of anxiety in Harry’s stomach when he thought about divulging the news. Not now, but one day he’d mutter those words and the world might actually turn on its axis. At least, that’s what he feared.

But that’s when she sidled right up to Harry, a smile up at him when he held out his hands to introduce the two of them.

“Matt, this is,” an awkward pause, Harry figured that by now he’d been upgraded from acquaintance to friend. He went for it: “My friend–Y/N, this is Matt, he used to work with Jeff.”

“Nice to meet you,” she stuck a hand out, offered him a smile when he lifted his sunglasses.

Was he…checking her out? Harry felt his eyebrows dip in jealousy.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” he said, a hawaiian shirt was unbuttoned down the middle of his chest.

“No, probably not,” she said over the music, a smile on her face. “I don’t come around here much.”

Was she…flirting? Harry felt his lips part in shock, a quick diversion when he cleared his throat.

“Y/N–do you want to go get a drink inside?”

She looked over to Harry, confusion on her face when he tried to do the telepathy thing he’d seen her do with Lexi. He bugged his eyes out a bit, offered a forced smile, but she only seemed to pull her head back and shrug hesitantly. “Okay.”

She followed behind him, away from Matt and into the kitchen. “Let’s not like–y’know–pick up guys here.” He kept his voice quiet and led her towards the island--the same place where they’d stood awkwardly when Harry told Jeff the news: faulty condoms, oops!

Now it was decorated with bottles of liquor and plastic cups.

“What?”

“S’just awkward, alright?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He was into you!”

“He was?” She looked over his shoulder, eyed him through the sliding doors that led back outside. “How do you know?”

Harry looked at her like she was on something. “How do I know? He was obvious!”

“Are you jealous?” She pulled her eyes back to his, the corner of her mouth pulled up in a challenging smirk.

Harry felt heat rush to his face. He wasn’t--well, he was, obviously--but, it’s not like he could admit that.

His eyebrows furrowed together, he pulled his chin towards his chest and rolled his eyes. “No, I just–I don’t know. That’d be weird.”

“All of this is weird,” she reminded.

“Yeah, well, we don’t have to add to it.” He took another look outside, a mental note to tell Matt to back off later. Not because Harry had some kind of stake over her, just because, you know, she had a lot going on.

He turned around then, ready to reach for a cup and the bottle of rum that he’d been eyeing since he walked in. “I’m gonna get–nevermind.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and her red tank top. “Get what?”

“Nothing.”

She smirked. “A drink?”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

“I was gonna say that but I forgot. It’s fine.” He walked over to the counter, ignored all of the bottles of liquor and reached for a solo cup.

“You don’t have to do this.”

He shoved it under the tap and turned on the faucet. “It’s like Sober September, but–for longer.”

“Is that a thing?”

He shrugged, took a sip. “I think so.” Dry January, same thing, whatever.

Quiet for a second, she scanned the room.

“Does weed count?”

“Yes it counts,” she looked up at him like he was crazy. “Anything I can’t you can’t do either. Drugs, drinks, that’s the same thing.”

He sighed, bit at his lower lip before his mouth curved into a smile. “You’re lucky I like you.”

She smiled up at him, almost like she knew she was.

Y/N seemed content to trail Harry at the party, a non-alcoholic seltzer in hand as she smiled and greeted new faces. He took a quiet moment in the kitchen inform her of the plan: push the album, promo right before the baby was due, then he’d take time off with her to adjust to it all.

She didn’t say much, nodded and absorbed the information with a slight look of guilt etched on her face, but Harry promised: this is what’s best, I feel really good about it.

Which is why Harry felt alright letting a few of his friends in on the new plan: tour it next summer, Europe and the US, the Southern Hemisphere sometime in the fall. Laura, a friend who’d worked on the album, listened with a smile as Y/N gently rubbed the belly that was slightly visible beneath her skin-tight tank top.

She couldn’t hide it and didn’t need to--at least that’s what Harry heard her say to Lexi earlier in the afternoon. So he smiled a little when Y/N noticed Laura’s eyes following her hand.

“I’ll bring your youngest audience member ever,” she revealed, a hand still on the tiny bump.

“Oh, that’s so sweet! When are you due?”

“January, middle of the month,” she glanced up at Harry quickly. “So–I might need some noise canceling headphones.”

“Hey–I make good music,” he pretended to take offense.

“I didn’t say you don’t–”

“Is it yours?” Laura asked, her eyes pulling up to Harry’s face for a second, wide with shock.

Harry looked down at Y/N, down at the bump, frozen. What should he say and how should he say it?

“No–God no,” she said quickly, saving Harry before he said something stupid. “It’s our friend, Peter.”

Harry’s lips twitched into a smile. “Yeah–Peter, he’s a good friend. He’s a great guy, a dream, really. Gonna be a great father.”

“He’s okay,” she made a face at Harry--ego control. “A lot to learn, probably never changed a diaper in his life.”

“He has too,” Harry defended quickly. “At least five or six.”

“Well he’ll be changing probably five or six a day.”

“That’s fine, he’ll be fine with that. He’s extremely committed to that baby.”

“Yeah, well,” she stifled a laugh. “We’ll see.”

Laura laughed, a skeptical look disappeared from her face when Glenne came up and offered dessert, effectively breaking up the conversation. Harry draped an arm over her shoulder for a split second when most people had started to make their way to the other side of the pool.

“Just so you know, I’m gonna make you call her and explain that lie once we come out with it.”

“Deal,” she laughed. “I’ll tell her you had sex with your friend Peter’s girlfriend and we didn’t know who’s it was until it was born.”

“Jesus,” he played along. “Can’t tell if you’re the funniest person I’ve met or the meanest.”

“I like to think I’m a mix of both.”

Harry didn’t see Y/N for a week after the party at Jeff and Glenne’s. He was busy, she was busy, but they exchanged texts back and forth a few times about something funny they’d see on instagram or random thoughts about the now plum-sized baby that occupied almost every waking moment in Harry’s mind.

He decided not seeing her for a week was probably good--seeing as he was starting to dream about her or the baby or almost anything related to both of them.

So on the first morning of week 12, Harry sent her a text:

Harry (12:43pm): Twelve week mark! See you at 5pm?

She confirmed by ‘hearting’ his message--he tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped in that moment and when he waited for her in the lobby of an office building in Westwood. She came in the from the sunny afternoon, lifted sunglasses and smiled a little as she approached.

“Look at me,” she said quietly, a few people passed by on their way out of work. “I look pregnant.”

He looked down, his brows furrowed together and his lips pushed out. He scanned her figure, lips curving into a smile when he saw the way her dress fell over the curve of her stomach. Only slightly bigger than a week ago, but decidedly more round in the perfect way.

“Wouldn’t have noticed if you didn’t say anything–but, you do, a bit. You look good.”

“I feel weird,” she said, following him over to the same elevators as last time. “I used to just look bloated, but now it’s like–real.”

Once the doors shut and afforded them some privacy, he turned to face her, another sweeping gaze over her figure.

“You look beautiful,” he said, voice quiet as the elevator whirred. “Can I–can I feel it?”

“Oh,” she looked down, a hand immediately on her own belly. He’d noticed the way she started to do that. Protective, instinctual, it made something light up inside Harry’s brain that sent jolts of electricity down his spine. “Yeah, of course you can–here,” she reached for his hand, guiding it towards her, another spark when they made contact.

He stared for a second, felt the way she curved beneath the blue fabric of her dress. Somewhere deeper in there was a baby the size of a lime, a plum, the internet had said a few different things and Harry didn’t know which one he liked better. He looked up at her briefly, hands still in hers when the doors parted.

Jeff, on the other side, was caught off guard. “Hi–hey, I was just coming to find you.”

“Hi,” Y/N said, a step back from Harry as if there was some sort of rule about proximity.

Jeff offered an awkward smile, motioned for them to follow him down the same long hall, past the same rooms and chairs and windows. Harry let out a giggle under his breath, smirked in her direction when she playfully rolled her eyes.

She seemed to bristle a little when she stepped into the room behind Harry, she pulled out a seat and offered a pleasant smile to Dave and the others when Harry pulled out the seat directly beside her. He could tell they all noticed.

“So,” Dave spoke, a quick glance around the room and a small smile. “Good to see everyone.”

“Yeah, thanks for coming,” Jeff said, settling into his seat before he reached for a water bottle. “Lola–you’re good to start us off?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, short red hair brushing the tops of her shoulders. She smiled in Y/N’s direction, much less hesitant than times before. “We’re really here today to start thinking about how we want to share this news. It’s obviously not going to stay a secret forever, so we’re wondering about different options to get in front of it–while still maintaining everyone’s safety and privacy.”

Y/N nodded, a sideways glance in Harry’s direction.

“We have a few options, Harry, about how to do that,” Jeff explained. “We could choose an outlet to inform and let them break it. Or, we could talk about a social media post, a statement from Lola…”

He turned to look at Y/N, caution in his eyes when she offered a small smile. Another pang of guilt in his gut when he thought about her world turning upside down. Relatively normal--sure, she had friends who were famous and she wasn’t a stranger to a circle of Hollywood’s elite.

But she managed to live out of the eye of paparazzi and tabloids, a quiet existence on a tree-lined street with modest cars and homes. Now, when Harry looked at her, he was grateful that out of all people this could have happened with, it was her.

Harry looked around the room and cleared his throat. “Uh–a statement is probably best, yeah?”

“I would think so–your fans will want to hear from you though, too,” Jeff nodded.

Lola smiled, softly, in Y/N’s direction. “What do you think, Y/N?”

She was caught off guard by this, stammered out a reply when she shrugged her shoulders. “Uh, yeah–the statement–I don’t know, whatever you think,” she looked towards Harry, a wave of emotion when Harry realized that out of everyone in the room, she trusted him the most.

“We should wait until you’re father along,” Jeff said. “Probably closer to the sixth month mark?”

She nodded slowly, seemed stuck in her thoughts about the timeline when Lola kept talking.

Statement in September, maybe something from Harry as well. Anonymous sources (Jeff, Lola) would disclose that Harry was thrilled and excited and try to do whatever damage control they could.

“Does that sound alright?” Harry turned to get a better look at her now, his eyes searched her face.

She was distracted, but Harry didn’t know why. “What?”

“September,” Lola said. “Make the statement in September.”

“Sure,” she nodded easily.

“How are you feeling about it?” Lola’s question was directed at her, but it took her a second to realize that. Harry watched, his eyebrows lifted as he waited for a response.

“About having a baby?”

“About coming out with it,” Jeff smiled a little.

She shifted in her office chair, hands clasped on her lap. “I don’t really know what to expect, to be fair.”

Jeff looked at Harry, then at Lola.

Harry cleared his throat and rested his elbows on the table, he spoke directly to her. “I think there’ll be some people who are really upset and some who are really happy.”

“You should make your social media private,” Lola said. “That’s the majority of what comes up when I ran a google search of your name. A few things about your work if you dig really deep.”

“Which they will,” Harry noted.

“Okay,” she nodded, a look of concern suddenly in her eyes when she glanced between Harry and Lola. “Should I be, like, worried about my safety?”

“No,” Jeff said. “Definitely not. If there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable we’ll assess and just get a security detail.”

Harry made a face at that, the thought hadn’t necessarily crossed his mind until now and the anxiety was palpable. Was she safe in her house? Was she safe without security detail? Maybe now, maybe until it was public knowledge that the girl in Studio City who drove an affordable car was pregnant with his baby and all hell broke loose.

Harry did his best to stay focused on whatever Lola was saying instead of spiraling--should she move in with him? Should she move somewhere else altogether? Maybe Harry should follow her everywhere 24/7--he’d feel better about that than any alternative.

Later that night when they sat in the same In N’ Out parking lot as before, he almost said all of that to her. But she broke the silence first.

“You don’t, like, regret deciding to keep it, right?”

The question caught him off guard. He was mid-bite and let out a bit of a cough, wiping his mouth with the backside of his hand before he looked over at her. “No–do you?”

“No. I don’t know. Lola said we have to act excited. As if we aren’t at all or something.”

“I know,” he said, voice quieter. He’d heard the way she said it and hoped Y/N hadn’t caught it. Harry knew Lola was in business mode, not trying to be insensitive or rude or anything similar. “That was pretty shitty, but I don’t think she meant anything by it.”

She nodded, eyes staring off in the distance when she took a sip from her soda.

Harry watched her for a second, curious about where her mind was while her body was right beside him. “I am excited, to be clear.”

“Me too,” she nodded, back to reality. “I’m getting more excited. Next time we see Dr. Weston we might be able to know the sex.”

He smirked. “We already know the sex, Y/N.”

“Where’s your premonition coming from?” She laughed, a bite from her burger. “What makes you so sure?”

He laughed and took a sip from his water bottle. “I think you’re going to be a really good mom no matter what. But I think you’d be especially good with a little girl.”

“You’re going to sound like such an asshole if we have a boy.”

“If we have a boy it’ll be great! He can like sports and princesses, too.”

Harry thought on it for a second. He didn’t really know where his premonition was coming from, didn’t know why he had a feeling in his stomach that he’d be wrapped around her finger as soon as he heard the wails of a tiny infant. But what he did know is that everything in him felt like he’d have a daughter and that she’d be just as beautiful and funny and sarcastic as her mother.

And that’s when the real panic hit him. What had been a tiny spec of concern in the conference room earlier about Y/N’s safety was suddenly a monstrous fear in the backseat of Harry’s Tesla.

It wasn’t just his responsibility to protect her, but both of them.

He heard her say it, I think you’ll be a good dad, too, but he was too busy staring out the window as his pulse quickened to accept the compliment.

She stuck a french fry in your mouth and chewed, blissfully unaware of the knot that had formed in Harry’s stomach.

“Would you–” he turned to see her suddenly, a sigh escaping his lips. “Hear me out, okay?”

Her eyebrows dipped but she nodded.

“Would you think I was totally, absolutely mental if I asked you to move in with me?”

Her eyes went wide, lips parted when he rolled his eyes and shook his head. Yes, he absolutely was mental. “I know–okay, s’fine.”

She shifted in her seat and reached out to touch his arm quickly, recoiling when she spoke. “No–I just, that’s not what I expected. At all.”

He took another breath, his words came out quickly. “I know it’s crazy, but, Jeff got me freaked out today. When he talked about getting you a security detail I thought about your apartment and I know it’s in a house and it’s a nice neighborhood but–”

She didn’t say anything. She watched as he pushed his lips to one side and then the other.

“I could never live with myself if anything happened to you.” A pause. “Or her.”

She rolled her eyes at his pronoun use, a small laugh immediately granted levity to the front seat of his car. Dimples appeared on his cheeks when he saw the smile on your face.

“I hear you, but–I’ll be fine.”

He started speaking before she even finished. “Think of it this way, too. When she’s here, we’ll want to be together, right? I mean–don’t you think you’ll want more space than what you’ve got with Lexi? Don’t you think she’ll get sick of dirty nappies and all the crying in the middle of the night? If we live together I can help more and we can go through it together.”

She thought on that for a second, Harry watched the wheels turn when she picked up another french fry and bit into it.

Harry smirked to himself when he realized that she was actually considering it. The two of them under one roof, a tiny baby in that onesie he bought? His heart picked up at the thought of it.

“Think about it, yeah? I’ve got plenty of room.”

She nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

table of contents | talk to me | the playlist

AN: okkkkkaaaayyy this was a long one and I feel like a lot has happened for these two!!!!! A lot of growth in this chappie! Hope you like it!

#unplanned #harry styles fanfic #harry styles stories #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x yn #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

the only ghost in Amity Park

Continuation of Half Of

______________________________________________

Only in Amity Park did the revelation that a local teenager was sorta, kinda a ghost just blow over in a few days. Sure, people still stared at Danny Fenton as he walked by and everyone was still wondering what exactly he was, but overall life had moved on. Star sighed to herself as she organized her notebooks, waiting for class to begin. Just another day.

Star herself really didn’t want to get involved in whatever was going on with Danny. She didn’t like him before he was a celebrity and didn’t plan on starting anytime soon. While Paulina still relentlessly, and vainly, pumped him for information on her dead boy crush, Phantom and he and Dash formed some weird macho bond or whatever, Star avoided him. He’d given her the chills since the day he’d walked into Casper High. When Danny’s secret had been exposed mid-attack, Star hadn’t been surprised. She didn’t need some ghost to tell her that there was something deeply, unsettlingly wrong with Danny Fenton.

Danny didn’t seem particular bothered, by his inhuman nature or by suddenly having his secret exposed. If anything, the nerd looked more relaxed than ever. Star had been watching him, they all had, but Fenton kept his ghostly antics to a minimum when in public. The occasional flash of green eyes when emotional, a grin of sharpened teeth. He made Mikey’s locker lock intangible the other day when the kid had forgotten his combination and he floated down the stairs instead of walking sometimes. It had been a week and it was frightening how quickly such strangeness had become almost normal.

“Alright kids, phones and notes away we’re starting class with a pop quiz. Hope you’ve all kept up with your weekly readings,” Faluca announced cheerily. The whole class, including Fenton, moaned and packed up their bags. Star supposed being an undead being haunting his own life didn’t make him immune from normal human problems. She was biting her lip trying to remember which antibody caused allergic reactions when she got an uneasy feeling. She looked up and was not surprised to see Danny Fenton looking around too. It had been a solid week without ghost attacks, looks like Fenton’s supposed vacation time was up.

Star stopped her writing and adjusted the bag at her feet to prep for evacuation. She briefly wondered what Fenton would do, what he could do? Did he also hunt ghosts, like his parents? Like Phantom? There were no blasts, no screams, no monologues but the dread increased when a ghost shield descended over them. Actually, it looked like it was just covering their classroom. Now everyone was looking up from their quizzes and out the window at the flickering, green shield.

“You’d think the administration would’ve warned me we were going to do a drill,” Faluca said but his voice was hesitant. Clearly this wasn’t planned so despite the lack of alarms, there was a good chance this was real. “Pencils down for the moment while I figure out what’s going on.”

“Mr. Faluca, I need to go,” Danny said, raising his hand. Star was so used to hearing the request she almost ignored him but the dread curling in her stomach made her look again. His face was pinched, sharp and his eyes burned with an icy fury like a sudden storm blowing in without warning.

“Mr. Fenton, I don’t think...” Faluca murmured uneasily. Danny frowned harder.

“It wasn’t a request, actually,” Danny said roughly as he stood up and began walking towards the door. He was almost there when the door slammed open and Fenton had no less than 3 ectoweapons pointed in his face. A few kids jumped back in alarm but Danny held his ground as half a dozen Guys in White agents entered the room and surrounded him.

“Spectral scum formerly known as Daniel Fenton, you’re coming with us,” one of the agents said.

“Danny not Daniel and it’s still my name,” Danny quipped, eyeing each of the government officials and their weapons. “And no, I’m not. I’m still alive, somewhat anyway, so I have rights. The courts backed me up.”

“Everyone who signed for your freedom doesn’t know ghosts like we do,” Another agent said so forcefully, some spittle flew out of their mouth and hit Danny’s cheek. Star watched it freeze and fall away the instant it hit his skin. “Your kind are too dangerous to wander around, you need to be contained and eliminated. Don’t worry, your parents will receive a sizable check as recompense.”

“I’m the one who needs to be contained?” Danny said slowly, evenly but there was a static to his voice that caused the hairs on the back of Star’s neck to rise. When she breathed out, she saw her breath was misting. Everyone’s was as the room temperature continued to plummet. “When you come in here and take hostages to threaten me?” Danny hissed, he took a step forward and his eyes took on a neon green glow. “You didn’t come to my home or on the streets, you came to take me in the middle of biology when I’m surrounded by civilians, kids.”

“You delude yourself into thinking you’re still human,” another agent scoffed. “Everyone knows ghosts are weaker when giving into their obsession.” Danny laughed, it was loud and mocking and like fingernails running down a chalkboard. Faluca, stuck in between Danny and the agents, was white as a sheet and gripping his desk like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

“You know nothing,” Danny hissed, his voice barely recognizable as human. His hair and shirt floated in an invisible but angry breeze. Frost crawled up his arms and his face. Various ecto alarms were ringing on the belts of the agents and they started to look a bit nervous. He looked nothing like the kid who, minutes before, had clearly been struggling with their bio quiz. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You cannot come into my haunt and threaten my people to get to me. Protecting what is mine will always make me stronger!”

“This whole town is constantly under attack because of things like you!” One particularly brave agent said even as a few others had backed up. “Amity Park is on the verge of collapse because of all the ghosts!”

“There is only one ghost in Amity Park,” Danny said, he tilted his head, his black and white hair dangling in his face as he gave a sharpened smile. “There is only me and the ghosts I allow, ghosts who know the rules, who respect my authority here by keeping damage to people and property down. I am the only ghost haunting this town and why do you think that is?” One agent threw down his gun and ran through the open door.

“You’re-you’re a monster!” Another woman shouted, shaking as she stepped back before fleeing.

“I’m not the one who needs to threaten innocents to get to their target,” Danny sneered. “It’s a good thing you did though, I wouldn’t hold back if I wasn’t worried about collateral.” Another three agents turned tail and ran. Until there was only one left. His gun was still trained on Danny but his hands were shaking.

“You don’t scare us,” the agent trembled through the obvious lie having been abandoned by his comrades. “We’ll get you monster, if it’s the last thing we do.”

“Looking forward to it,” Danny drawled sarcastically as some of his horrifying aura dissipated along with the freezing grip on the room. Within moments Danny has settled back into more human form. While he’d been angry before, now he looked almost bored. At no point had he seemed afraid.

“You take your people and your equipment and you leave Amity’s borders by sunset tonight,” Danny declared resolutely. “If you have continued problems with my existence, you take it up with the courts. We settle this as humans but if you treat me as a ghost then I will fight back like one.” His eyes turned green again as a threat. As a promise.

“I don’t take orders from spooks!” The agent shouted, securing his finger on the trigger and preparing to fire. Star had ducked to avoid the blast so she missed exactly what happened. All she saw was the green glow and heard a strangled scream from the agent followed by a series of thumps. By the time Star had gotten back into her seat, Danny was aggressively pulling apart the ectogun with his bare hands. There was no sign of the agent and, around them, the ghost shield fizzled away.

“Jerks,” Danny grumbled, kicking at the remains of the ectogun he’d destroyed. “Sorry about that, Mr. Faluca. I knew they’d cause problems but I didn’t think they’d come to school.” Their teacher stared at Danny like a rabbit facing down a lion. “You okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Fenton, just fine!” Falcua grinned in a high pitched voice. “Shall we get back to our quizzes?” The bell rang just then and Danny did a little fist pump.

“Tomorrow then? After I get a chance to study more?” Danny asked with puppy dog eyes. It looked wrong on his face that had just threatened the government with bodily harm. Faluca just nodded dumbly, not sure what else to say. “Yes! I’ll pass tomorrow for sure. The attention kinda sucks but it does come with some perks.”

He walked back to his desk, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the class when he stopped and gasped, his breath fogging in front of him. His lips pursed again with annoyance. A few people jumped in surprise as the Box Ghost, a familiar annoyance, poked his head through the wall.

“Child! Your requested reprieve is up and the Box Ghost is here to cause insurmountable square shenanigans!” He laughed heartily, stopping when the room temperature dropped again. Danny didn’t even turn to face the ghost.

“Your watch is off, Boxy. I have another 10 hours before I have to deal with you annoyances again,” Danny growled. “I’m feeling good right now, take advantage of it and leave in one piece.”

“Uh right okay then,” the ghost stammered, sinking back into the wall. “See you tomorrow.” Danny cracked his neck before he walked to his desk, grabbed his things and walked to the front of the room.

“Late bell’s gonna ring any minute, you guys should hurry if you don’t wanna be late,” Danny said as he left. Falcua’s strength gave out as soon as Fenton was gone and he hit the floor, one hand clutching at his chest.

“Jeepers,” Mikey surmised appropriately before stuffing his things in his bag and leaving as well. Star watched everyone loosen up themselves and begin gathering their things to leave. No, she would never like Danny Fenton but he and his ghost weirdness was just part of the deal now, whether they wanted it or not. Such was life in the most haunted city in America which was only haunted by a single ghostly entity.

#feral danny my beloved #i wasn't going to continue Half Of but I was Inspired (tm)#In an AU where Fenton and Phantom aren't known to be the same #Danny lets all his unholy elderich nightmare self out as Fenton and keeps Phantom as cute and friendly as possible #also Danny didnt kill the GIW agent lol #just intangibly threw the bastard outside and took his gun #I was inspired (obviously) by the implication of Danny being the only ghost to truly haunt amity #that any other ghost there is only there bc Danny allows them in #that you can come to Phantom's haunt but you must follow his rule or its Death 2.0 The Trauma Edition #also I lost my shit writing insurmountable square shenanigans so please appreciate it #I actually had two whole paragraphs on Star being sensitive to otherworldly things how it ran in her family #then decided that it kinda distracted from the story so i took it it out #but Its still somethng interesting #explains just why she dislikes danny so much (from what we saw in canon) compared to other A listers who tolerate him at least

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wkemeup · 3 years

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for drabble night- which i am so excited for, by the way!! you're a marvelous writer and one of my top favorite bucky writers- my personal favorite trope is oblivious idiots to lovers (like the love is requited but they're just idiots)

dialogue prompt: “I’m too good for revenge.” “Well I’m not. Give me the gun.” - from anon pairing: bucky x reader word count: 1.4k warnings (provided by @jessalyn-jpeg): idiots to lovers, mutual pining, shouted love confessions, (and warnings from me ->) past torture, descriptions of blood, canon level violence, sorry I made this so dark??? a/n: guess who already broke the 1k rule!!! but hey I loved this one and Im a little sad it's a drabble and not a monster fic. it may not be idiots per say, but definitely two people who love each other who havent admitted it yet and are scared of what it means

A man withered on the ground at your feet, scrambling along the prodding edges of crumbled concrete. Crawling as blood streaked in his wake. This man – this monster – you'd been chasing for weeks was reduced to a helpless, crying mess as you towered over him. His hands shook as they shielded his face, tears streaking over his cheeks. This time, you held the power. You held the leverage. He wasn’t so scary without the table of surgical tools at his disposal – your blood stained upon his hands and a maniacal grin upon his lips.

You didn’t know his name. He was only ever ‘the Doctor’ when you spoke of him in your head. You’d only uttered the phrase once since the team rescued you from his basement two months ago and even then, it had tasted of venom. He haunted you in your sleep, followed you in the shadows of every room, drew screams as he pleased even when he could no longer touch you. Safety was not a luxury you could afford – not after what he’d done to you.

Bucky was your only reprieve. A broken man who had found the pieces of himself again – who had offered pieces of himself to you to soothe the mess you’d become with gauze and tape. It was his arms you woke in when your throat was burning raw, his voice lulling you back to sleep, his hands that had taught you peace again.

Bucky saved what his man destroyed.

“P-please,” the Doctor begged, his trembling hands reaching out for the toe of your boot – like a peasant before a king. You flinched before he could touch you. His back pressed against the wall. There was nowhere else for him to go. You flexed the gun at the end of your grip.

“You ruined me,” you spat, barely able to taste the words as they left your tongue. They did not sound like your own. “You expect me to grant you mercy?”

It only made the man sob harder. He was struggling to breathe – hyperventilating between sobs as his hands curled tight against his chest. Pathetic. Weak. Certainly not the type of man who could orchestrate the kidnapping of an avenger without help. He was sick and twisted and evil down to his bones, but he was not the mastermind behind your abduction. He was the executioner.

“D-don’t kill me,” he whimpered, bowing his forehead to the ground. “Y-you’re an Avenger. You wouldn’t.”

You had every intent to put a bullet through this man’s chest the moment you laid eyes on him again. You’d expected to be afraid, to see the surgical mask over his mouth and the cold, dead look in his eyes. You’d expected him to lunge at you with the scalpel and add to the array of scars he’d drawn upon your body. You’d expected violence from the psychopath you knew him to be.

Instead – you found this trembling, frail man who could not manage the courage to meet your eye. It was only when you were chained and drugged that he felt powerful enough to torture an Avenger. You were disappointed.

“You’re not worth my soul.” Tears welled into your eyes as you stared down the monster who had taken residency within your nightmares. “I’m too good for revenge.”

“Well, I’m not,” Bucky’s voice growled from the edge of the room. He stalked across the floor of the basement, his boots stepping over the stain of dried blood you’d left behind months earlier. His expression was cold, unemotive. The plates of his left arm whirled as he clenched his fist. “Give me the gun.”

Bucky’s hand slid over yours, the gun falling slack in your hand. You parted your lips to tell him that justice was due, that there was still more at play than just the sick mind of the man crumbled at your feet. But the safety was already unlatched and Bucky unloaded the weapon into the Doctor. Blood trailed through the cracks in the floor until they touched your boots. The echo burned into your eardrums.

You gaped, stumbling a few steps back before Bucky could slide the gun back into the holster on your hip. He raised an eyebrow, concerned, but you couldn’t find any air inside your chest. Your gaze flickered back to the Doctor as his body slumped down the wall, sinking into the pool of his own blood. It would stain into the rock amongst your own.

Your stunned stare returned to Bucky as he gently reached a hand towards you. You slapped it away. “Why-- What did you—Why would you do that?”

Bucky stilled, his eyes narrowing. He retracted his hand, genuine confusion upon his features. “Are you serious?”

“We could have brought him in, Bucky!” You threw your arms in the air, pacing over the red stain at the center of the room. “We could have interrogated him! You saw him – he clearly isn’t working alone!”

“We don’t need him, Y/n, we can—”

“He’s a pawn! He deserves a hell of a lot worse than death but we needed him, Bucky!”

“No,” Bucky snapped. His face was growing red, his jaw clenching so tightly the muscle flexed beneath his stubble. “No — that monster should have been shot on sight! I don’t give a shit what he could have been useful for! He got what he deserved!”

“Dammit, Bucky! We’re right back where we started.” You pressed your hands to your eyes. Tears wiped at the edges of your palms – angry, frustrated tears. Helpless tears. A lump burned so terribly in your throat, you thought it might choke you.

“We’re not,” Bucky eased, trying to calm you though his own breathing was labored. “We killed the bastard who took you, Y/n. He’s dead now. He can’t hurt you again. It's a hell of a lot more than we had yesterday.”

“Not when the guy who’s making the calls is still out there!” you cried, shoving away his efforts to reach you, though he kept trying. “We were so close, Bucky! He would have talked!”

“You don’t know that! He could have been manipulating you!"

“He would have rolled over in a second!” you roared, fire and fury and agony coursing through your veins. “And you just—you threw that all away for—what? For revenge?!”

“For you!”

The moment the words left Bucky’s lips he held his breath. His boots carried him several steps back, putting space between you as if it might draw the words back from the air before they could touch you. The anger drained from your body, washing away in a matter of seconds. Bucky exhaled a tensed breath.

“I did it... for you,” Bucky repeated slowly, his voice dangerously quiet. “I couldn’t stand the idea of that monster living another second after what he did to you.”

You swallowed, though your throat was aired dry.

“I can hear you cry at night,” he confessed and your heart clenched. Slowly, Bucky lifted his gaze to you, blue eyes startling through the wash of tears. “I know what he did to you, Y/n. You don’t have to tell me, because I know. I know what it’s like to be stripped of your power, to be helpless. I know what that does to a person. You... You never should have had to know what that feels like, too. It would have lingered over your head, Y/n -- to have that monster in the compound with us. It would have driven you mad. So I did what I had to do. I won’t apologize for that.”

You stared at Bucky, lips parted. “Fury will be pissed.”

You didn’t know why you said that. Perhaps because you were too afraid of what Bucky was really saying – the meaning behind his actions. Why it tortured him to allow this man to live after what he did to you.

Bucky chuckled dryly. “Yeah, I suppose he will.”

Quietly, you inched closer to him, stepping over the wet bloods of crimson as it slithered along the floor. Your arms wrapped around his waist, your head pressing to his chest. Bucky stilled for a moment, surprised, before his arms folded around you. It was warm in his embrace, safe. You listened to the gentle thumping of his heart as a hand circled sweetly over your spine.

And then, so quietly you knew only his advanced hearing could pick up, you muttered, “thank you,” against his chest.

this is your reminder that on drabble night I'm barely reading this over after I write it instead of taking weeks to edit and draft and redraft lol so if there's mistakes or the quality is not on par, that is why

#drabble night #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes drabble

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