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petit-etoile · 10 months

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Astarion is a taco bell worker who has not had a single day off in 2 years because his manager can't be assed to teach anyone else how to close. He longs to one day see the sun again and be free of these twisted and evil taco nights

in motion, in 3D

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 7,156 content warnings: please do not have sex in parking lots !! but anyway, all characters are in university & tacobellstarion works to pay for his law books, i use a lot of pet names from both spawn & ascended astarion, but he's not a vampire in this universe so his morality is mostly in tact, nearly 7k of pure smut other tags: alternate universe - college/university, porn what plot/porn without plot, pwp, established relationship, semi-public s.ex, b.lowjobs, riding, c.reampie, shameless smut, taco bell, gender neutral tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness be added to the taglist here

summary: Fast food jobs may as well be from Avernus itself, yet Astarion clocks in every day for a night-shift at Taco Bell in his silly little purple hat and his silly little purple uniform.

College is already hard enough. Add in a job on the side that requires you to stay up long before even the partiest of party kids have gone to sleep, and life might start to seem even bleaker. Astarion may not have gone out of state for his college adventures, but it was still hard. The expense of the university, the expense of staying on campus, and the expense of wanting to afford textbooks unfortunately resulted in this.

He takes a long, exhausted look around the cluttered Taco Bell and considers sobbing on the floor. Despite all the work put in to make the building seem pristine, the shop always seems as though it’s been through some soft of galactic turbulence by the time the night has ended. The last thing Astarion wants to see is a catty text from the day shift saying things were still dirty. He might snap his phone if he sees Enver Gortash (saved in his phone as DO NOT ANSWER!!!) texting him at a bright and early seven in the morning.

Fast food jobs may as well be from Avernus itself, yet Astarion clocks in every day for a night-shift at Taco Bell in his silly little purple hat and his silly little purple uniform. He hates it — He loathes it more than anything else, but it’s the only thing that keeps him from sinking further into nearing-graduation depression. This is the only way he stays sane.

He slips his phone out of his pocket and taps in his password, a cute little anniversary date, and checks his text messages before anyone can rat him out to the team manager in the back. There’s a Snapchat that he can’t check and a few text messages, and he presses on them so desperately he thinks he might be going a little insane. It’s only been a few hours and yet…

LOML: i'm coming to get u!!

Astarion smiles so wide he thinks his face might crack. It makes him giggle, swing his feet, twirl his hair around his finger. He feels very baby girl, as Karlach liked to put it. He types a quick ‘MY HERO’ before sliding his phone back in his pocket. That one text is all he needed to hold on for the last thirty minutes of work.

‘Alright!’ Wyll calls from the back. He looks up from his new shiny Apple watch. ‘Last customer is out, so you know what that means. Closing time. Let’s get this show on the road!’

Closing time is somehow the best part of Astarion’s day and the worst. The best, because he knows who will be waiting for him outside to pick him up as soon as everything is neat and tidied inside. The worst, because someone has to clean the bathrooms and he refuses to do it. There’s a bleakness, a despair to the Taco Bell bathrooms. It truly takes the world’s strongest to venture forth and clean them, and Astarion’s recently had a manicure. He scours the room critically before his sight lands on his second favorite co-worker ever!

‘Jenevelle,’ he purrs, turning to look at his younger co-worker. ‘It’s your turn to clean the bathrooms.’

‘It isn’t,’ she says snootily, pushing an Airpod into her ear to drown him out. ‘I did it yesterday. The men’s room is a crime against humanity.’

Astarion frowns. ‘I’m older. You do it. I refuse.’

'Just because you're like, seventy-something and still working at Taco Bell doesn't mean that's what the rest of us want to do,' Jenevelle says, blowing an obnoxiously large bubble with her gum. She slides off the counter and rolls her eyes. 'You're cringe.'

'Bold,' Astarion says, scandalized at only a young twenty-four years of age, 'considering that's coming from someone who put down the name Shadowheart on her application form and dresses like Olivia Rodrigo. Now, go clean the ladies' bathrooms before I feel inclined to point out you have nasolabial folds at eighteen.'

Shadowheart gasps in mock horror, putting a hand to her mouth. She rushes to get the cleaning supplies and does as she was told, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. Astarion is almost certain he’s going to wake up to a text from Gale laughing about how the story is being shared on a small indie podcast. It’s enough to send shivers down Astarion’s spine, but not enough to offer to swap places with Shadowheart. He goes back to petulantly sorting the hot sauce packets.

He pockets one mocking saying ‘I’m Your Main Squeeze!’ and shoves the containers back from where they came from. It’s easy closing, he tells himself. If closing were any easier, the morning shift wouldn’t complain so much. It’s what he has to tell himself as he wipes down the counter.

It’s hard to hold onto hope during these tough taco hours. Astarion just checked his phone, but if he were to check it again, he’s almost certain not even a minute would have passed. No matter how hard he scrubs the counter, everything smells like refried beans. His hair smells like refried beans. His shirt smells like refried beans. His skin must smell like refried beans. It’s a nightmare.

‘Dude, I cannot wait to get out of here,’ Wyll complains, coming to lean on the counter. He begins pretending to sort packets too. ‘Do you have any plans, Astarion?’

‘Ravengard,’ Astarion says patiently, ‘it is three in the morning. My plan is to sleep.’

‘Serious about that beauty sleep?’

‘Dead serious.’

Wyll hums. ‘The rest of us were going to go out for a drink. We wanted to know if you wanted to come with us. You know, to let off steam.’

Astarion considers it the same way one considers eating leftovers. He thinks about it then thinks about the sage old rule: There is nothing open after three in the morning besides jail cells and iHop. He decides against it. Doesn’t want to risk the price of bail after a night of drinking.

Besides, there’s someone coming to pick him up anyway. The thought of you crosses his mind and he can’t help but feel somewhat giddy about it. Between all the work from school and the stress of trying to make Burrito Supremes, you make going through the hardship of closing every single night worth it.

He’s supposed to be doing something, but Astarion can’t remember what it was that Wyll told him needed extra attention at the beginning of his shift or what closing a store entails anymore. He takes out his phone one more time and looks at his screen so he can memorize his screensaver which is a cute photo of you asleep in his shirt and drooling.

‘Ugh, you’re so happy it’s gross,’ Wyll says, wrinkling his nose.

‘Oh please,’ Astarion snorts. ‘As if you and Lae’zel aren’t sickening.’

If Astarion is being completely honest, almost all couples are. Somehow, the two of you don’t get to avoid that connotation. He remembers when you first started dating. You celebrated one week of dating, then two, then every month, then every other month just because it delighted you to do so. Astarion’s reputation is that he’s a prickly, unkind asshole which isn’t entirely too far from the truth, but the difference is that you are you, and you deserve all the nice things he can give.

But before anyone can complain about Astarion being sappy again, he slides his phone into his pocket and goes about his closing to-do list. He fusses over Karlach’s dishes. After working at a fast food restaurant, he’s pretty sure he’ll never eat at one again — but what the public doesn’t know what hurt them. They’re clean enough to anyone terribly concerned about it.

Isobel is hastily cleaning the floors. She and Aylin will never beat the grossest couple allegations, but Astarion thinks she’s the cutest thing in the world with her big eyes and fluffy eyelashes and perfectly smudged eyeliner. Once, he found Isobel and Shadowheart in the bathroom comparing shopping bags at Ulta instead of working the drive through. Astarion never told, but they owed him favors for two weeks in a row. Those were the best two weeks of his life.

Astarion does, however, fuss over the cleanliness of the lobby. The store itself feels permanently smudged in grease and smells about as nice as a locker room, but he refuses to be in the kind of establishment that refuses to clean the soda dispenser nozzles. He watches Wyll clean them then cleans them again himself.

And lastly, very lastly, Astarion gathers all the mops and brooms and rags and towels and puts them back from whence they came. Isobel finishes checking the filters to make sure they’re spotless about the same time Shadowheart comes miserably from the bathrooms with a look of utter despair on her features. He should probably feel bad, but he’s just thankful he didn’t have to do it himself. He wonders if he can somehow convince Wyll to do them tomorrow… but that’s a thought for another day, and Astarion only has one thing on his mind now that the store is closed.

You.

Thank the gods, it’s you. You’re a blessing in disguise if you’ll ever admit it. You willingly wake up in the middle of the night to come pick up Astarion, and you’ve never complained about it despite it being well beyond your bedtime. It’s embarrassing to admit that it’s something the both of you look forward to. A little private time away from dorm roommates and their friends who all like to crowd into impossibly tiny rooms because they haven’t spent enough time with each other throughout the day somehow.

The thought of you puts a pep in Astarion’s step. He checks his phone one last time to read your latest text message and feels like his heart is about to soar out of his throat. He bounces from foot to foot impatiently while waiting at the door for Wyll to come see everyone out, but as soon as that door opens, he’s darting across the parking lot to your familiar car. He never gets in a hurry for anything, but it’s different tonight.

You watch the other couples scurry to their own vehicles for their own safety. Shadowheart rides with Karlach and they’ll hang out at Rolan and Lia’s until Viconia DeVir spam texts her enough that she comes home. Wyll races to Lae’zel’s slick sports car, and seeing them make it across the parking lot is all you really care about. You turn your devout attention back to Astarion.

One might be wondering what you’ve been up to tonight, but it’s an easy answer. You were studying for your many quizzes and tests which infuriate you to no end, because college is hard and Astarion can’t help you study. Not that he would be that helpful. Luckily, Gale and Halsin are astute professors who actually don’t mind helping students — and they both have a you shaped soft spot that makes it impeccably easy for you to convince them to tutor you. They helped you go over your coursework and somehow managed to play footsie with one another under the table at the same time, although Gale kept bumping into you by accident and Halsin kept laughing. Either way, you made it through two hours of intense studying in just enough time to pick up Astarion from work.

You almost wish he had helped you study instead, but… He’s smart, coy, a future lawmaker in the making, but Astarion is gorgeous. His talents are wasted on learning laws and balancing books. To say that you wouldn’t get anything done if Astarion helped you study is an understatement. One might think you innocent enough with a cute picture of you and Astarion as your lock screen, but opening up your phone shows one of your most recent endeavors. A risque photograph of Astarion’s cum on your stomach in black-and–white to make it less scandalous, of course.

He should be a model styled in the latest Gucci and coveted by all, but you’re also increasingly biased. You’re wearing a baggy band sweater and sweatpants when he comes around the corner of the restaurant, and he’s so incredibly cute in his stupid Taco Bell uniform that you can’t help but wiggle in your seat. You unlock the door as he comes bolting to the passenger side, and he climbs in and meets you halfway for a kiss.

‘You smell like tomatoes,’ you laugh.

‘Oh, I suppose I’ll walk home then,’ he snorts.

Astarion always comes home smelling of Crunchwrap Supremes and Baja Blasts. Underneath the smell of grated cheese and refried beans and offensive-to-the-nose lemon, he smells like his personalized cologne too. You sniff him unapologetically and try to not feel giddy as he giggle-snorts his way back into the passenger seat.

You watch as he flings his hat into your backseat and begins ruffling his hair back into the usual coiled, curly hairstyle he’s usually sporting. You watch, with a quiet smile, and fight the yawn that’s been plaguing you since you set out to study anatomy around midnight.

It would be downright cringe to admit you want to study his anatomy since he smells like Taco Bell, but the uniform looks so damn good on him. It’s dorky in a way that makes your heart race. When he stretches, his shirt untucks a little and a peek of his belly shines through. That makes what you’re feeling ten times worse.

Maybe it says more about you than it does Astarion, but he would be attractive even if he was wearing a paper bag. You’ve heard the way the other students gossip about him. They like his long legs or his lean neck, or his loud personality. He’s a self-proclaimed short king with a wicked smile and a dangerous sense of humor. That’s why, no matter what he’s wearing or what he’s been doing, the sight of him makes your heart seize into your throat. You want him. You want him bad enough that you glance around the parking lot to make sure everyone is gone.

‘Was work difficult tonight?’ you ask.

‘The customers,’ Astarion groans, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘Why do thirty seven high schoolers come into Taco Bell before close to order everything off the menu? It takes forever! And they’re so weird, shoving paper from their straws into their Baja Blasts and filling it with salt and pepper and hot sauce then daring their friends to drink it. Weird! Weirdos!’

‘What if I said I was hungry?’ you ask slyly.

‘Don’t even play,’ he growls. ‘I’m tired and — Oh my gods, you’ll never guess the drama from today.’

Astarion sets off on a long tangent about work related drama. His boss got into an argument with their boss and now everyone else is in trouble because someone who works the morning shift lost a set of keys. It’s nothing you’re particularly interested in, but it’s nice to hear Astarion talk to you. You adjust the radio to be quieter and turn the air up to be warmer. You’re so terrifyingly cozy you’re bound to fall asleep, but that’s okay. You lean back against your seat and close your eyes too.

‘That sounds like a mess.’

‘Aren’t you glad you don’t work?’

‘Beyond glad,’ you say.

Astarion hums. ‘How did studying go? Did you memorize anything interesting today?’

‘No,’ you say. ‘But, well, there was something I wanted your help with…’

You look across the console to watch him. He doesn’t seem as sleepy as you are. He offers you his hand and you take it just to hold it, fighting a shy smile as you do so. You give him a few more minutes to unwind after his shift before reaching for your keys in the ignition.

Astarion reaches for your hand. His fingertips slide across your upper arm to your fingers, wrapping around you to prevent you from starting the car. You swallow thickly. It’s almost like he read your —

‘You look absolutely wrecked, my dear,’ Astarion says. ‘Switch sides with me. I’ll drive us home while you doze.’

It’s a tempting offer. Being driven home. It’s the sleep deprivation that’s driving you somewhat crazy, you think, because Astarion has never looked more handsome than he does now in the passenger seat, hair tousled and uniform lopsided, and a smile on his face. Your cheeks heat up.

Oh, it’s definitely the sleep deprivation. Part of you wants to simply wait until you’ve made it home to do anything wild. But Astarion keeps looking at you, appraising you with gentle curiosity. He is unbelievably proud of you and how hard you’re working, and that appreciation is doing wonders to the thoughts inside your head. Your palms start to sweat.

You do a quick look around the parking lot one more time. It’s entirely empty now, not a single car in sight. No Lae’zel or Karlach or Wyll or anyone who would interrupt. The lone overhead light keeps blinking on and off. If you were truly concerned about your situation, you would think that it’s something out of a horror movie. Those aren’t the thoughts going on in your head. What you’re really thinking is so gross it should be humiliating. Astarion’s hand is warm on your hand, and his belly is still showing underneath his shirt that’s ridden up, and he’s tilting his chin because he’s noticed you’ve gone unusually still.

‘I don’t want to go home,’ you say in a small voice. ‘And — I’m not hungry either, not really.’

‘Oh?’ he hums. ‘What do you want to do instead?’

Ah. There it is. Your chance.

You pull your hand from his and place it on his knee, thumb pressing against the side of his thigh. Astarion’s eyes glimmer dangerously. He’s caught onto your mood. He knows exactly what you want without you even saying it.

He reclines your seat and stretches even more in your chair, his legs splayed out in front of him lazily. He’s lithe and taut, hands gripping the headrest for no other reason than he knows it makes him look gorgeous. He raises his chin like a challenge. You slide your hand up his leg and squeeze his muscle. Your mouth has gone dry, but that’ll be changed soon. You nibble the inside of your lip and pray to the gods to give you bravery.

‘You’re insatiable,’ Astarion accuses.

‘It was the textbook,’ you say defensively. ‘I studied for so long, and now my mind has wandered.’

He tsks at you in disappointment. ‘The Taco Bell parking lot of all places.’

‘Shut up.’

He laughs, nice and low and dangerous, and presses his hand flush against his belly. He pulls his shirt up a little higher and you fight desperately to keep your eyes on his face.

‘Shut up?’ he mocks. ‘Is that the best you can do?’

‘I’ll show you,’ you say brazenly, ‘what I can do.’

It’s abysmal, the lust that overtakes you. You lean over the console and watch as he raises his shirt so that you can see the smooth plane of his abdomen. He’s lithe, sleek, refined. Even in his silly little uniform, you can’t help but think about how amazing Astarion looks — and he knows that’s what is racing through your mind, because he indulges in the attention that you’re granting him. You lean forward, one hand bracing yourself against the console while the other falls against his thigh for support, and kiss gently across his belly. From one side of his waist to the other, one hip bone to the other, until you fuss enough that Astarion helps slide his work pants down his hips to his thighs.

The ridiculousness of the setting is forgotten. You lavish Astarion’s cock with attention, the tip of your tongue tracing over the svelte shape, until he’s gently lacing his fingers in your hair to help guide you along. But you know his body almost as well as you know your own. You take the tip of Astarion’s cock into your mouth and kiss it. You graze your teeth carefully over the skin and feel his leg tense in anticipation, and slowly, you swallow it inch by inch.

His cock jerks in your mouth, growing and hardening beneath your careful ministrations. After being together for so long, you know what he likes. He likes slow and languid strokes. He likes when you hum and sometimes when you try to suck him as far down as you can, but you also know that he likes the occasional graze of your teeth, and you’ve barely touched him when he moans softly under his breath as if it’s humiliating to him how needy he is for you as well.

It isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. The gear shift is rigging uncomfortably into your ribs, and the sound of your leather seats sliding against your skin is an unwanted addition, but you’re mesmerized by the way Astarion tastes on your tongue.

Even after a long shift, he still smells immaculate. Your laundry soap overpowers almost everything else, and his satiny tip is salty with precum, but you’ve always enjoyed that taste more than anything else. You mouth gently against the length of him, kissing and sucking and tracing patterns against his cock with your tongue. The touch causes his hand to tighten in your hair, not enough that it hurts, but enough that you’re reminded of him.

It’s comforting, the feeling of his hand in your hair as he guides you up and down his length. It reminds you of less busy days when there’s no studying and no work shifts to be had. In the summer, you often spend your days stretched out across Astarion’s bed while he reads or writes, and you have more than enough sex to pass the times.

It’s far less organized here, but you take your time swallowing around his cock, sliding him as far down as you can into the back of your throat until Astarion is making little, wild noises. He’s trying to keep quiet, and you do your best to peek at him from the angle you’re at. He might as well be a work of art with how he looks. His eyebrows are taut, and he’s biting his bottom lip so ferociously you think you ought to be concerned. Astarion’s eyes soften when he notices you’re watching, and that’s more than what you need to sit up and slide your sweatshirt off over your head. It’s peak romanticism to fuck nasty in the empty Taco Bell parking lot.

You lean forward and take Astarion’s cock into your mouth again with intent. It’s not the most comfortable angle to suck him off at, but you’re determined to keep his eyes on you even if it means you’ll have the world's sorest neck in the morning. Because you’re watching, Astarion makes an effort to watch you as well. He fights against the fluttering of his eyelashes, determined to see you until the very end.

His skin is soft and hot against your tongue, and you focus on breathing through your nose and fight against your own budding arousal. You want to feast on him, to give him something to enjoy since it was your idea to do something like this in your car. You pay close attention to the soft tip of his cock as you suckle it, pressing little licks against the underside of his head, moaning softly even though your elbows are beginning to ache from the angle. You would bring him to completion like this if he would let you, but you can tell by the way his eyes seem to burn that he has other plans.

‘You’re insatiable,’ Astarion repeats, laughing low in the back of his throat.

He lifts you by the chin and kisses you, unfazed by the spit and the drool and the slightly salty taste that sits on the tip of your tongue. If Astarion wasn’t into it, he would let you know. But if you’re insatiable, then he’s equally as deranged. He guides you over the console and into his lap, pulling and tugging at your sweatpants and underwear until they’re around your ankles.

You do try to keep some sense of decency. You push your sweatshirt in a bundle against the front window like that’ll do anything to hide the scene, and he leans his seat as far back as he possibly can without straining too much. Now is not the time for romance, you decide. You’re used to begging Astarion to fuck you, to batting your eyelashes and playing up how shy you are about your wants and needs, but there’s no time for that now at three in the morning. You rut against him, holding his hands against your hips.

It goes without saying that the lewdness of the situation does cause your cheeks to flush. You hide your face into Astarion’s neck and try to pray away the shame. But you aren’t ashamed of your lust, you aren’t ashamed of your desire — Your only concern is the embarrassment of how close to Astarion you want to be, never mind the faint perfume of the Fiesta Veggie Burrito that clings to his skin.

You worm your way into his lap fully, feeling how hard his cock is between your legs, and grind against the thickness of it. He guides your movement ever so carefully, murmuring sweet things into your hair that he wouldn’t be caught dead saying to anyone else. You’re amazing, don’t hide yourself from me, let us enjoy this together, and all other lyrics that Astarion is proud of. Finally, you reach between your thighs and take his cock into your hands, guiding it inside of you. You don’t have time to tease him, to take your time lowering yourself against his hips until he’s gripping your hips so hard you might bruise. You sink down onto him as quickly as you can, and gasp once you’re fully seated.

Gods, you’ll never get used to the feeling of him inside. He’s so thick and long that you feel impossibly full, that any movement you make will make you cum right then and there. Your hands always shake when you’ve taken him all the way to the hilt, and you bite your bottom lip to focus on the task at hand. This isn’t just about you and how easy it is to make your core burst with pleasure. This is about Astarion too. You want to thank him for all his hard work, to praise him even though he hates it, and you smile. Astarion smiles too. His eyes always get so soft when he looks at you… He’s never looked happier than he has when he looks at you.

Astarion’s hands rub soothingly up and down your spine. The touch is encouraging, is relaxing, and distracting. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't distract you from the way he looks up at you adoringly, almost as if he’s ever seen anything like it before. You relish in the heavy weight of his gaze, tilting your chin so that he can admire everything, and he does. Astarion watches you like someone would admire art at a gallery. He follows every line of your body that he can see, the curve of your neck, the fragility of your cheekbones, and runs his hands against your skin as though it’s the first time he’s ever felt it. It makes you feel special.

And of course, you are special. You were Astarion’s first after a string of countless conquests.

Astarion rubs his hands up against your sides, clasping his fingers taut around your waist so that he can guide you along the length of his cock. It’s all so simple. Astarion likes touching you in whatever way he can manage, especially after hours apart. You spend most of your time familiarizing yourself with the warmth of his hands as he traces his fingers against your spine, or pets through your hair, or massages any tense muscles that might be frustrating you.

He’s even more handsy during sex. You haven’t even moved yet, and he’s tugging at you, biting his lip as if that’ll keep him from trembling. Astarion has always been sensitive, but the recklessness of the situation seems to have riled him up. He paws at your hips. He’s desperate, intent, for some sort of sensation and you’re equally as needy, an overwhelming fullness causing you to shift your weight one more time so that you can balance on either side of his thighs without too much discomfort in a cramped space. You swallow, and slowly, pull yourself off his cock until you’re painfully empty again.

Astarion pushes his hands up beneath your undershirt. You stole it from his side of the bed before you came, somewhat desperate to be wrapped up in his scent. He presses his cheek against yours, and you kiss him — biting the swell of his lower lip and lapping at his tongue when he hums in response. He parts his lips for you and you kiss him messily, turned on by the way he arches at your intuitiveness.

It’s only then that you start really grinding against his lap, pushing his cock back against your core and rising off of it again, bouncing in his lap as he encourages you to do so. Astarion smiles against your teeth and digs his fingers into the curve of your ass. He pulls against his chest and further into his lap, filling you so full of his cock and encouraging you to rut against his hips so that the feel of it is the only thing you can think of.

Astarion is everywhere.

In your thoughts, in your mouth, in your body and mind.

‘Impatient,’ you whisper to him, trying to still your hips but even the thought of him sitting there while you take your pleasure is enough to send tingles down to your toes.

‘As if I’ll ever have enough of you,’ he murmurs in response. He tilts his chin back and offers you his throat. You bite the tender space beneath his jaw and suckle the skin, tasting a bruise blossom beneath your tongue. ‘O — Oh, that’s it.’

Astarion practically purrs as you leave your mark against his skin. You focus on that, claiming his neck right above the collar of his work shirt so that everyone will know the truth. Astarion Ancunín is yours.

‘Like that,’ he whispers soothingly.

Astarion shows his neediness like this, moaning faintly as you turn your attention to making another hickey. While you do that, he helps you grind and ride his cock, his fingers tucked neatly in the junction where your ass meets your thighs. He pulls you up and down his length without any strain, and it thrills you so much that your toes curl and you try to squeeze your thighs together. You whine against his throat.

‘You’re not the only one who doesn’t play fair,’ Astarion warns you.

He uses all of the strength you forget he has to bounce you in his lap. The pleasure is so intense it distracts you from your artwork, and you cry against his collarbone and cling to him. His cock causes you to feel empty and full — like you’ll never get enough of what he has to offer you.

And, well, any thoughts of playing fair after that have gone out the window along with your shame. The front seat of your car is cramped and tight, but you’re not really thinking about comfort as you chase that heat between your legs for something greater. Astarion does most of the work for you between the way he talks nasty and fucks even nastier, unable to keep his hands to himself for even a few seconds.

If his hands aren’t cradling your ass, then they’re beneath your thighs and if they aren’t there, it’s because he wants to torment you further by fucking into you hard by holding onto your hips as hard as his trembling hands will allow him.

Everything feels way too tight. The walls of your car seem to be caving in, and your clothes are suddenly clinging to you in a way that’s bothersome. You want to be closer to Astarion, to have fully melded your bodies together — and you curse the setting because if you had just been patient, you’d be halfway home to a comfortable bed.

‘You’re naughty,’ Astarion whispers, and it does something for you. ‘Did you miss me — Oh fuck, that’s good.’

You bite his neck to keep him from talking. If Astarion talks, you’re going to lose whatever decorum you have left. You wrap your arms around his neck and whine softly in his ear, nuzzling against his warm skin.

‘I missed you,’ you whisper against his neck.

‘I know you did,’ he murmurs, stroking your hip. ‘I can — Mm, I can tell how badly you missed me. Look at how well you’re riding my cock.’

‘Astarion — ’

‘I love the way you say my name,’ Astarion whispers fiercely. ‘I could listen to it all night and day. Say it again for me, pet. I’ll make you say my name.’

Heat causes your cheeks to flush. You’ll never get used to the casual way he says the raunchiest things, and yet, you can’t help but shiver against his chest at the observation. You wouldn’t have said that you were doing well at it. The roof is short, your legs are cramping, but somehow, that makes the feeling even better. There isn’t much room for you to go, and for that you’re grateful. It means Astarion can’t tease you endlessly with the length of his cock. Every move you make has to be short, frantic, calculated, and the tip of Astarion’s cock is pressed so deeply against your core that you can barely stand it.

‘Oh, it’s so much,’ you gasp.

‘Yeah?’ he muses. ‘You were made for me. You were made to take my cock. You’ll take it for me, you’ll cum for me.’

He uses his knowledge of all your favorite tricks against you. You cannot escape his grasp, one arm wound tight around your waist while the other now presses lightly against the nape of your neck. Astarion kisses the side of your mouth passionately and keeps you even closer than the limits of your surroundings. That riles you up even more.

‘I want to — I want to, Astarion, oh — ’

You drag your hips up carelessly, unburdened by shame or nervousness. You’ve known Astarion since your first day in the city, and you’ve been through enough and had each other enough to no longer feel embarrassed by your needs, not that Astarion had ever let you feel insecure about anything. You whine against his neck, and he kisses you fully then, a pouty mouth against your needy tongue, and then you maneuver yourself in his lap so perfectly that it catches Astarion off-guard and he moans fully against your chin.

You lose yourself in the feeling and the sound. Astarion’s moans sound even better in a tight, enclosed space. His voice is soft, low, dangerous when it needs to be, and he only becomes this unraveled with you.

It’s an intoxicating feeling. You cry softly, nose bumping against his, and fall apart at the sound of his arousal, the feeling of his fingers dancing across the back of your neck, the sharp ecstasy that burns like a wildfire in the center of your stomach. You want to chase your release now. To find it in his lap, against his throat, softly and hoarsely in his ear. But you aren’t ready, not yet, and it takes all of your nerves to pull away.

It’s humid inside the car now. You take a quick look at the sight. You reach for stability, your palm sliding against the fogged window, smearing a glance into the darkness outside. You rest your other hand against the center console and arched your back, height leveraged against Astarion so that he can see you fully. He’s quick to respond to your change in position, no longer kneeling forward, but high above him like you’re sitting on a throne.

Astarion’s hands slide beneath the shirt you have left, palms trailing smoothly up the arc of your belly, warming the skin of your chest. He sighs handsomely and stares at you, leaning back so that he might enjoy the sight of you fully. And now that you’re able to, you’re able to pull fully all the way off the length of him, leaving him without the feel of you clenched tight around his cock. You’re only able to wait a few seconds for your own sake before you’re wiggling all the way back down until you are right back to where the gods want you to be.

‘You look delicious,’ Astarion says proudly, wearing a familiar half-smile.

‘For you,’ you confess. And it’s true.

‘You always look so beautiful to me,’ Astarion says in a tone that reminds you of when a cat has had its fair share of milk. He’s preening, cocksure. ‘Go on,’ he adds. ‘Fuck yourself for me.’

You swallow hard and do as ordered with a different rhythm. No longer do you seek out slow assured strokes. These are quick movements, careless, unpracticed and unmeasured, and Astarion helps you with two thumbs pressed against your stomach. It’s his turn to lean as far back as he can to give you all the room you need, and while it isn’t perfect, it’s probably the second hottest thing the two of you have done together. Fucking in a car in an empty parking lot. Your fingers slip against the window and Astarion catches you by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm so that he can wrap his fingers around yours.

‘Like that, beautiful,’ he says encouragingly, helping you. ‘You’re close, aren’t you? Don’t you want to?’

You nod, unable to trust how your words would sound. One way or another, he always gets what he wants, and you know that with enough time and focus on your pleasure, Astarion will have you mewling.

‘Come on, baby,’ Astarion encourages you, and you can’t help but follow his every command. ‘I love the way you ride me — I was made to fill you up, you take my cock so well.’

His words only make you even more frenzied, riding him to the best of your abilities just so he’ll say something sweet about you again. He babbles nonsensical things about you, and if you were in a clearer headspace, you’d be able to make out his words but all you understand now is the nerves building up in the very bottom of your stomach as you chase satisfaction, so determined to see his face once it’s all over.

He coos at you, chin tilting all the way back so you’re able to stare at his pale throat. A gorgeous throat, sleek and elegant, wearing proof of your existence in little bruises and bites that are both new and almost healed. You want to bite him again, to let your teeth graze his Adam’s apple while he talks about politics that you barely understand, and with that, you reach for the back of his neck so that you can slam your mouths together in a clumsy kiss. Astarion hisses, and then he’s biting your lower lip until it swells, and you kiss him so sweetly your head spins.

And from there, you don’t last long. Your legs are shaking harder than they’ve ever shook before, and your chest feels so tight and your cheeks feel so hot that you’re almost incapable of thinking. All you see and know is Astarion. Astarion, lounging against your passenger seat, his own cheeks ruddy and his expression twisted in pleasure. You cry out and collapse forward, burrowing into his chest as tightly as you can. He wraps his arms around you, kisses your temple.

‘Astarion, Astarion, please!’

‘Just like that, my love — ’ he gasps against your crown, grunting as his release hits him hard. ‘Like that, my pet, you’re perfect, my dear, my dear heart — ’

Your core tightens at his sweet words, and then it’s your churn to choke out a hoarse cry as pleasure races through your spine so sharply that it must hurt. You bite down on his shoulder for comfort, moaning as you try to come to your senses.

It’s somehow both hot and cold inside your little car. Everything is sticky with sweat, and the moisture in the air has started to cause Astarion’s hair to frizz up. You’re boneless. It’s only fair that he takes it upon himself to pull you up from his cock, tucking you back into your baggy sweatpants. You hover awkwardly, his cum on your thighs, while he drags his work pants up his slender thighs. You aren’t sure who is groggier, but when you glance at the clock on the dashboard, mild horror thickens in your stomach. You feel faint.

It might have been nearly three in the morning when Astarion was released from his duties, but it’s now four in the morning, give or take a few minutes. You start to make your way over to the driver’s side again, about to inelegantly climb across the center console when Astarion grabs you by the waist and kisses the side of your head gently.

‘You stay put,’ he mumbles. He sounds positively fucked thorough.

‘I made you stay up late,’ you say guiltily, but he shrugs.

‘Honestly, you did all the hard work,’ he says with a snort. ‘Lay back and close your eyes, darling. I’ll drive. Thank the gods it's the weekend.’

He opens the passenger door, and the cool air of the morning smells so refreshing to the smell of sex that permeates everything else. He stretches for a minute before coming back. He kisses your forehead tenderly, nudging your nose with his.

‘Love you,’ you murmur.

‘Love you,’ he says.

It all happens so quickly. You’re faintly aware of the sound of Astarion snapping his seatbelt in, your car humming to life, an Alfira ballad playing so quietly in the background it might as well not even be on. You’re so warm and toasty that you can’t keep yourself from leaning your head against the window. If you fall asleep before the first redlight, Astarion doesn’t say anything. All you can recall once you get home is a strong pair of arms holding you tightly, and the pillow you stole from his side of the bed, and his back against your chest.

As it should be.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#anonymous #my fic #taco bell tag

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xomoosexo · 11 months

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everything was fake. he downloaded snapchat logs to verify the snap screenshots - nothing incriminating showed up. he didn’t know she was a fan because he kept deleting her from her inbox. she deleted some messages so the screenshots will look even more weird. he only added her on his semi public snap to get her opinion on a song snippet which ironically was trust issues. he told his friends not to defend him when it came out. he didn’t wanna react right away bc he didn’t wanna devalue victims. he’s gonna make a video addressing it soon on dreamxd - even tho his management advises him not to.

okay

#okay #okay😭#askies #drituation #negative

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sukunasbow · 2 years

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𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 - ( 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐫 ! )

synopsis -> in which you’re secretly fucking eren and he invites you to his party !

warnings -> dom!reader, modern!au, college!au, oral !

You walk into Eren’s house, adjusting your tight black dress that Sasha, your closest friend, let you borrow. Speaking of Sasha, you start pushing through the crowd of people in the living room, looking for your friend. “What the fuck is she doing here?” A girl’s voice catches your attention and you turn around, being greeted with the sight of Mikasa Ackerman and Jean Kirschtein. “I don’t know.” He shrugs. You roll your eyes and walk away, bumping into your friend. “Sasha!” You grin. The girl immediately gasps, pulling you into a tight hug, Connie standing behind her. “Have you seen Eren?” You ask her as she pulls away from you. “Oh, last time I saw him, he was headed towards the bathroom.” She smirks. Sasha’s the only person that knows you’ve been lowkey fucking the most popular guy in your college. He’d never tell anyone and he’d probably get pissed off if he found out you told her. Why? Because you’re a nobody compared to him. You’re only, slightly, known because you tutor some of the popular people on your campus. That’s how you met Eren, you’re his science tutor. “Alright, thanks.” You laugh, waving goodbye to Connie and Sasha, walking down the hallway and towards the bathroom.

You reach the bathroom, taking your phone out of your purse and opening snapchat. “Here.” You text Eren. He immediately opens the chat, then opening the bathroom door and quickly pulling you into the room, locking the door behind you. “What took you so long?” He mumbles, moving you in front of him. You can’t even lie, Eren looks extra good tonight, his tongue piercing, small ponytail, and back tattoo adding to his attractiveness. Breaking out of your trance, you let out a breathy laugh, looking down and noticing the growing bulge in his pants. He glares at you, “It’s okay, I’ll take care of you.” You grin, grabbing one of the towels off the rack and placing it on the floor, then getting on your knees. He leans on the edge of the counter as you unbuckle his pants, sliding both his pants and boxers down. You grab his hard cock, taking it in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, Eren’s head lulling back, low moans escaping his mouth. A mix of drool and precum starts pooling around your mouth as you continue, starting to pick up the pace as he desperately runs his hands through your hair, wanting more. “Fuck.” He barely manages to breathe out, his eyes rolling back, you continuing to suck him off, taking in all of him. His thighs start shaking and he instinctively brings his hands to your head, pushing you closer to him, making you gag. “Don’t stop.” He huffs, “Ss’ah, gonna cum.” He adds. You suck your cheeks in, Eren cumming into your mouth with one last desperate whine. His chest heaves and you back away from him, swallowing his juices and then standing up, wiping the excess cum off the side of your mouth with your hand. Patting his shoulder as he pulls his pants up, you pause, “You gonna tell your friends that you like getting your dick sucked by a nerd?” You smirk. He opens his mouth to say something, but you exit the bathroom, leaning him alone, knowing this is going to happen again.

#x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #aot imagines #aot headcanons #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot x you #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x y/n #eren jeager x you #eren jeager headcanons #eren jaeger imagines #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader

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callsign-phoenix · 11 months

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I wrote this as a part of my falltober fics, I hope you like it!

It is a Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace x gn!reader imagine.

Thank you @famfan-1034 for proofreading!

Day 19: Pumpkin spice latte

Warnings: slight cursing

Nat wasn’t exactly known for caring about being mainstream, she did her own thing, always, no matter what anyone else said.

She actually occasionally couldn’t help but make fun of trends that were absolutely ridiculous in her opinion.

TikTok and Snapchat were things she didn’t care much about and Starbucks didn’t tickle her fancy, but it did yours.

You really liked the occasional coffee from that certain brand, but you had managed to keep it from her well enough.

You had been on a shopping spree when you walked past a Starbucks shop, your instincts and the fall weather around you kicking in.

“Ohhh, let’s get a coffee!” You exclaimed, holding onto your girlfriend’s hand.

You didn’t stop in your walk until you were halted by a surprised Nat, an incredulous look in her eyes.

“Starbucks, really?” She asked you as she raised her eyebrows, and you nodded softly.

The heat rushed to your cheeks at the way Nat was silently but still judging you, and an apologetic smile appeared on your face.

“A pumpkin spice latte?” You asked sheepishly, raising your eyebrows and giving your best impression of a puppy dog.

“Their fall drinks are nice,” you added.

Nat looked at you as if you couldn’t be serious, but chuckled in the end.

She took a breath before she nodded and gestured for you to sit down outside the café.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and took care of everything.

When she came back out she sat down opposite you and handed you your latte, with a lopsided grin on her face.

“This is some pick-me-girl shit,” she chuckled, and you had to laugh as well.

“You did pick me though, so I’m not complaining,” you replied swiftly, which let an honest smile appear on her face.

Nat even stood up from her seat to lean over the table, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

“I’m proud to be more mainstream for you,” she replied with a wink, and interlinked the fingers of the hand you were not using to drink.

tagging: @starkleila @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @katesmadness @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @harper1666 @bespinnn @red1culous @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @marvelandotherfandomimagines @eggscrambler84 @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @mavrellover91 @allivingstone01 @rhettabbotts @withakindheartx @trikigirl271 @cherrycola27 @tamix44 @bonitanightmxres @ratcatcher2world @glowingtree @wingmanvenus @oliviah-25 @natasharomanoffisbaebby

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

#natasha phoenix trace imagine #natasha phoenix trace x you #natasha phoenix trace #natasha trace x you #natasha trace imagine #natasha trace x reader #natasha trace #phoenix top gun #top gun phoenix #falltober

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baileys-3 · 10 months

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CHAPTER 9 NOW ONLINE on AO3

Sneak Peak afte the link

Tim is sitting in the shop next to Aaron, who is saying something about how EVERYONE has a social media account these days and how he can't believe that Tim doesn't use TikTok, Instagram, SnapChat or anything else. Tim can't even remember all the names, that's how interested he is in social media.

After all, he is in a group chat with Lucy, Angela, Nyla and Nolan and their respective partners. Even though he has tried to leave several times. Which Angela always manages to prevent by simply adding him back in. At some point, he gave up. And, because he doesn't follow the whole thing very closely, he only realized a few days ago that Aaron is now also in the group. Which is probably because he is now P2. And therefore, no longer a rookie. Rookies are not allowed in their group. In any case, this group chat is perfectly adequate as far as social channels are concerned. And the highest of feelings. At least from his point of view.

But he doesn't really listen to Aaron's chatter. He just knows it's about this social stuff. He just nods from time to time. Which isn't particularly noticeable, because on other days he often just nods. And doesn't actively take part in a conversation.

But today it's something completely different. His mind is somewhere else entirely. Right now, it's somewhere with Lucy and how her hand felt in his trouser pocket during the walk. The thought is replaced by her hand on his knee. And shortly afterwards replaced by her fingers playing with his under the table. Which makes him immediately think of how her lips felt on his. And how long that first real kiss lasted. Only to fly straight on to the second kiss. And then, of course, to think directly about how she felt on his lap. And so, the thoughts fly back and forth. He sees her smile. Her beautiful brown eyes. The grin when they are engaged in their usual skirmishes. Her eye rolls. Her laugh lines. Her lips. He can see it all in front of him. And he can't think about anything else all damn day. Which he should, because he's driving with Aaron in the shop and he should, no, he has to concentrate on his job.

And no sooner does he hope to get his act together than he thinks about how she fell asleep in his arms, leaning against his shoulder. And the incredible feeling this triggered in him. The gesture was intimate in its own special way. Because it was a sign of the deepest trust. And she didn't just rest her eyes. He had let her sleep for a few minutes. And simply savored the feeling. And imagined what it would be like to always hold Lucy in his arms while she sleeps. To be there when she falls asleep in the evening and wakes up in the morning. And at the same time there was this knowledge that he would have all this one day. And it's the best damn feeling he can imagine. At least he hopes he will have it one day. If they can make it work. And he'll do everything he can to make it work.

It's all he wants. Lucy is all he wants.

#archive of our own #chenford #chenford fanfic #lucy chen #the rookie #tim bradford #tim bradford x lucy chen #chenford fic #tim x lucy #chenfordsource #chenfordedit #lucy and tim #lucy x tim #fanfiction #ao3

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kitonmitons · 11 months

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It really is incredible how quickly the world of freely-accessible social media is dwindling— either falling apart internally or squeezed under the weight of tech monopolies. Or both.

Tumblr’s decision to remove nsfw posts to avoid strikes from Apple’s app store was what tossed the snowball down the mountain. Its demise was connected to internal mismanagement and the need to compete with other huge social media sites at the time they banned nsfw, which are all now under new management and/or owned by massive tech corporations.

That in particular is a point I would like everyone to think about. Every major social media site that we use is part of a larger billion-dollar corporation. Many of them started humbly— Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and Reddit were all created by average people. It goes without saying now that Facebook has become a monopoly itself, and we all know the shitstorm twitter is under, which has left us with two primary platforms for free social media: Tumblr and Reddit. We know what is happening to Tumblr, but what of Reddit?

Reddit is owned by Advanced Publications, who also own or have majority shares in companies like Charter Communications (the company behind Spectrum internet, as well as Vogue and The New Yorker) and Warner Bros. Discovery. With funding like that, obviously the intention is not to make Reddit a place of information and socialization— the real intent is to turn it into a money-making machine.

To ensure this, Reddit is in talks of making their company public, meaning they would have to answer to shareholders when making decisions for the website. Shareholders want to see continuous profit, and that cannot be done only through ad revenue, such that Reddit has primarily profited from for years. People can subscribe to Reddit to remove the ads, but subscription services alone don’t see the profits they want to make. The solution to this problem is to push Reddit competitors out.

Some of their biggest competitors, ironically, were their own userbase. Reddit has a slurry of third-party applications made by Reddit users themselves, using Reddit’s API which until recently has been free. Third-party apps such as Apollo gave users a way to use Reddit WITHOUT advertisements, which was lost revenue for Reddit all while using the site’s base code. As a result, this year (2023) Reddit began charging to use its API, resulting in all of these third-party apps shutting down. With no more internal competitors, it’s time to go public and see how much can be made by shareholders— they might even decide to use their new funds to buy out more social media sites, or further integrate failing ones into their system, just as they are with Snapchat.

All this talk about Reddit in a post that is supposed to be about Tumblr. But, the two are related. As Tumblr begins to fall into disrepair and demoderation, we will begin to witness the fall of free social media as we know it. Big tech has dug its fingers in what has quickly become an important piece to our social fabric. The platforms that give us news, connect us with friends and family, connects us to the world, and spreads information is in the hands of just a few tech companies. Tumblr is failing because Yahoo! is failing. Tumblr is failing because WordPress is failing.

It is incredibly easy to blame staff for their stupid decisions, and it should still be mentioned. However, my main concern is the accessibility to free social media itself. The fall of Tumblr is an example of a social media website whose poor decisions— namely the removal of nsfw posts, poor automated moderation and failures to adjust to an aging userbase— cost it everything, but what really resulted in its demise was competition. Tumblr could never compete with giants like Facebook or TikTok. Nowadays, the only site Tumblr could really compete with was Twitter, which will be under a subscription service come January. And as people flock to sites like BlueSky and Threads, the diversity of the online world will only continue to decline. It is exactly the lack of competition that will make it hard for any Tumblr-like to take off, especially since a site like this has always run on user participation, not profit.

My point is, look at the overarching bullshit that is taking away from online life and question whether it’s worth participating in. Find ways to protest online monopolies that are squeezing out competitor sites and making it harder for people to use social media, especially if they aren’t influencers. And take a step back from the staff drama to look at what hostile monopolies and an undemocratic internet is doing to communities like ours.

#tumblr #tumblr 2023 #tumblr shutting down

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thundergrace · 2 years

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Okay, people said the NFL pretends to have changed since partnering with Jay-Z (whose management company still manages Rihanna, I believe), so maybe we don't need to question her doing the super bowl halftime show next year after previously saying it would be selling out. Okay, I accepted that. Again, Rihanna has done so much good. And I want to just keep believing in her.

But now the woman who caused Snap Inc stock (snapchat owner) to drop 4% and caused Snapchat to lose $800M in 2018 after criticizing them for an ad that made fun of her being beat by Chris Brown has personally invited a man accused of intimate partner abuse to take the stage -has given him the honor of being the first man to do so at this event.

I keep saying that at the very least you cannot say with one hundred percent certainty that this man was not responsible for inflicting any trauma on his ex-wife. You cannot prove that Amber Heard was lying about everything. Why even take the chance that you may very well be giving a huge spotlight to and supporting an abuser?

She could've chosen literally anyone else. All this will do is further validate his claims and further villainize Amber because one of the most famous domestic abuse victims in the world has now shown him support.

#Rihanna #i guess all billionaires gon' billionaire eventually #she was doing so well 😔

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renmackree · 1 year

Note

Hai! Same anon who asked for the original, can we PLEASE have more? Please please PLEASE?!?

Alright, but just because I like you :)

Part One

IL: I want 10.

SS: You're a greedy bastard. Fine.

"Lydia, your stalker wants 10 pictures this time." Stiles walked into the lab and tossed his bag into the little cubby marked "Style-less". Lydia was adjusting her lip gloss in the one next to him, "Queen Bitch" written over it with sparkling purple letters.

"He's getting a little needy." Lydia pulled back from the cubby and adjusted the white lab coat over her perfectly styled skirt and blouse. "You did tell him he could just ask me on a date, right?"

Stiles had NOT told Isaac that Lydia had offered to go out with him, because Isaac and Stiles had a deal. Stiles gave Isaac pictures of Lydia, Isaac gave Stiles the Teenaged Mothman collector buckets and reserved the middle row for him. They had this pact since Stiles' first year of college and he was not going to upset the balance in any way.

Plus Lydia didn't mind the attention.

"What Moth movie is this one?" Lydia leaned against the wall across from the cubbies as she waited for Stiles to change. He slipped the plaid shirt off and grabbed the Batman lab coat from his peg.

"Mothman in Love. This bucket supposedly has Erik and Steven holding each other with Wolfgirl and the new character LizardBoy." Stiles sighed, shaking his head. "God it's so stupid."

Lydia rose her brows as if she agreed, but didn't say anything. Once Stiles was dressed, the two walked through the decontamination chamber and into the main lab area. Greenberg looked up and waved at the two of them before returning back to his slides.

Boyd was finishing up some calculation on the whiteboard, turning around and nodding.

"Alright, are we wanting sexy or candid?" Lydia asked as she hopped up on one of the empty counters. "Because I only did two hours of skincare last night."

"Isaac holding your bucket hostage?" Boyd asked with a smile. "You know I could --"

"Yeah yeah, use whatever connection it is you have to get one, but Isaac works at the theater and this is traditions we're talking about, Vernon. Whoever your connection is, I'm sure she's great but please. Let me get my collector bucket in skeevy and blackmail-ish ways."

Boyd made a face but turned back to his work. The four of them had been in the same degree for nearly 7 years at this point, everyone was used to Stiles.

Lydia cleared her throat and Stiles began snapping pictures to Isaac. Some candid, some posed. One of Lydia almost sneezing to really sell the whole experience. After each one, Stiles was notified of Isaac screenshoting them and saving them in chat.

Weirdo.

Stiles snapped the final picture of Lydia, sending it off to Isaac with the message - 'That's ten, give me my bucket Lahey'. He stopped, groaning as he realized he had added that last one to his story as well. He had been about to delete it when another message popped up.

Haleofaguy is typing DH:Who is Lahey and why is he holding your bucket hostage?

Stiles bit his lip. So last night wasn't a fever dream! Derek Hale really had added him to snapchat. oh my god Derek Hale is watching my Snapstories Stiles thought, trying to come up with something smart to say back.

SS: Obviously we're reenacting the war of 1325 between the rival city-states of Bologna and Modena. Isaac has started the War of the Bucket 2: The reckoning DH: Don't tell my manager, that sounds like the title of a good movie. SS: See, I knew watching hours and hours and hours of cheesy b-role films would come in handy. I'm ready to make my first movie.

"Who you chatting with, Stiles?" Lydia asked with an almost predatory grin. "Is it someone special?"

"I mean, yes. But it's none of your business Ms. Sink-my-teeth-in-every-guy. Besides, aren't you dating Aiden?"

"No, we hooked up but he's just a fling. He has two brain functions and that's Fuck and Football. I'm not going to date someone who yells 'touchdown' when I orgasm."

Stiles snorted at that, watching as the snapchat went silent again and Stiles was left on read. He sighed, knowing that Derek was probably busy with interviews for the Mothman Movie.

"Hey, did you guys want to go to a party with me and my fiancée?" Boyd asked, checking his phone. "Apparently the party was moved to Boston last night."

"Party?" Lydia smiled, moving from Stiles to Boyd now. "What type of party?"

"Probably just a cocktail thing, that's what they usually are. But Black Tie is required so. Are you all in?"

"Invite Danny instead of me," Greenberg said from his microscope. "I have a date tonight."

The group oooo'd at that and Lydia texted Danny to let him know the plans. She then launched into Stiles' wardrobe and how she was going to dress him for the party. Stiles honestly wasn't really looking forward to the thought of being around strangers, but this would be the first time Stiles would meet the future Mrs. Boyd and he was excited.

With the way Boyd talked about Ria, she sounded like she hung the moon.

.o00o.

SS: Fit for tonight, tearing up the town with my side bitch IL: Pics or I burn the bucket SS: She's posting on Instagram, calm down Ricardo López IL: Who's Ricardo Lopez? SS: Look him up. BYE

Stiles slid his phone into the pocket of the tight slacks, looking over them again and frowning. "I look like someone going to a movie premier."

"Look, Boyd said Black Tie and I've been DYING to see you in this color. Truly, plum looks good on you." Lydia finished putting her hair up and turning around in her dress. "How do I look?"

"Like someone's trophy wife."

She grinned wide, putting her hands on her hips. "Thank you! That was the look I was going for."

Stiles rolled his eyes but let the woman fuss with his hair a little more. Her phone buzzed to signal Danny and Boyd were here. "Now, as soon as we walk through those doors --"

"--I only know you if I need to order an Angel Shot."

Lydia nodded and brushed her hand over his shoulders. "Mama's getting herself a hunk tonight and you will not fuck this up."

"Do I need to get a hotel for the night or are you going to? I just don't want a repeat of last time where I walked in on you and --"

Lydia pressed her finger against Stiles lips and shook her head. He loved having Lydia as a roommate, but sometimes it was hard to be with her and constantly be reminded he was so, so single.

The phone buzzed again and the two of them made their way out of their apartment and down to where a limo -- LIMO-- was waiting. The four settled in the back now, Boyd chatting about how they would be going through the back so they didn't end up on Just Jared in the morning.

"What does your fiancée do, Boyd?" Danny asked, sipping from one of the champagne flutes.

"Don't ask, we haven't even met her and Boyd won't tell us anything. Says he wants to keep his private life private." Lydia teased. "but not tonight! What changed? You've been going to her parties for years and haven't invited us!"

Boyd rolled his eyes at the chiding, sipping from his own glass. "Ria said that she wanted to meet everyone. And apparently the host of the party is interested in Stiles' research."

Stiles blinked. His mouth dropped open. Was Boyd's fiancée RIa DeLaugh-Moot? The famous wolf biologist from Finland? Suddenly his heart dropped. That would mean this party was for the conservation and repopulation programs. Excitement bubbled under his skin.

"Someone is interested in Stiles? Wow." Danny teased a little, offering a wink to the man. "At least we have someone to thank for this then. Ria and Mysterious Host. Do you think he's like Gatsby?"

The car pulled up outside the venue, the driver getting out and opening the door for them. Stiles' mind was racing as he tried to think of something witty and smart to say for their first meeting. Maybe he'd open up with a joke? Maybe he'd say a little wolf pun to get the mood broken. It was almost a full moon and werewolf jokes were always a good choice.

The Venue backdoor opened and a woman with bright blonde hair and a tight green dress stepped out. Her brown eyes lit up as she launched herself at Boyd and pressed a kiss against his lips.

"Vernny I missed you!" She sighed. "Remind me to never take another project ok?"

"You say that every time, Ria. Just remember that you enjoy your job."

She pouted but nodded before turning to everyone. "Hi! Vernny has told me so much about you all, I'm Erica Reyes."

Stiles' mouth ran dry. Erica. Wolfgirl. Reyes. THE Erica Reyes. Erica Reyes who plays Gretta Hansel in the Teenaged Mothman series. HIS Mothman Series.

But if Erica was here, then the host was --

From behind the corner a man in a crisp black suit and a tie with an obnoxious moth pattern peeked out. His hair was raven black and his hazel eyes were masked by thick rimmed black glasses.

"OH, and this is my good friend Derek Hale. He's the one hosting the party."

And if anyone asked, Stiles did NOT faint.

#sterek #welcome to the hale mouth #inbox fanfiction #anon questions #i was a teenaged mothman #PART two of who knows???

24 notes · View notes

tawogsocials · 1 year

Text

Tawog kiddies and what social media accounts they have

Gumball:

Twitter

Discord

spends most of his time on twitter, in which he vents relentlessly and it annoys everyone following him (which is all of his friends) he also has a discord server where he never talks

Darwin

Twitter

Discord

Instagram

Tumblr

Spotify

doesn’t take a lot of time on twitter, usually just replies to their friends n stuff, is in gumballs discord server where they talk to the nicer people, mutuals with Carrie on instagram and tumblr

Anais

Twitter

Youtube

all her accounts are managed by gumball and Darwin and she isn’t usually allowed on them, when she is, it’s just chaos

Penny

Twitter

Discord

Instagram

Spotify

usually with the treehouse girls in twitter, is in the discord server for them as well where she is the harbinger of chaos, also in gumballs discord server, has an instagram account where she posts her art and Spotify playlists

Leslie

Twitter

Discord

Instagram

twitter isn’t really his style, so he only stalks his cousins on there, she loves talking in the treehouse girls server, where he’s the melodramatic one in the group, has active instagram and Pinterest accounts for fashion tips and ideas

Carrie

Twitter

Discord

Tumblr

Spotify

loves twitter for no reason and they just talk to everyone there, is in the treehouse girls discord server where he loves making self depreciating jokes, loves tumblr and vents on there a lot when she’s not doing so on twitter

Tobias

Twitter

Discord

Youtube

usually on twitter and Reddit, and gets no likes or upvotes from anyone (except himself) because he’s just flirting with women, in gumballs discord server where he always talks and it’s annoying to everyone when he’s online.

Alan

Twitter

Discord

Youtube

Instagram

Tumblr

likes going on any social media website and spreading kindness and positivity, and sometimes he vents about his sadness and shit on twitter, not knowing that basically everyone follows him, also mutuals with everyone everywhere

Carmen

Twitter

Discord

Tumblr

Spotify

sometimes on twitter with the treehouse girls, usually telling everyone what to do on there, has an extremely active tumblr blog where they argue with everyone, doesn’t usually talk on the treehouse girls discord server, the voice of reason in their friend group

Masami

Twitter

Discord

Instagram

Snapchat

Tiktok

Spotify

brags on twitter and is the typical mean girl, brags everywhere actually, moderater of the treehouse girls discord server, loves showing off her Spotify playlists, basically only nice to her girlfriend, Teri and her bff, Leslie

Teri

Twitter

Discord

Tumblr

Spotify

Instagram

tells everyone to wash their hands, the regular voice of reason on the treehouse girls discord server when Carmen’s not there, keeps Masami under control when she’s acting rude, also talks a lot with her best friends

Molly

Twitter

Discord

Instagram

Spotify

hates twitter for whatever reason, barely tweets, owner of the treehouse girls discord server (although everyone is mad at her for adding Sarah) has a Pinterest for anime ideas to dm to Sarah, following everyone in her friend group everywhere’s Bc she’s nice

Ocho

Twitter

Discord

Twitch

Youtube

Tumblr

Steam

doesn’t usually go on social media, he just plays a lot of video games, has a twitch account for gaming streams and they post lets plays and clips from his twitch stream, he has a tumblr for game suggestions (Sarah once said that he should play ddlc, they haven’t trusted her ever again. He liked the violence though.)

Sarah

Twitter

Discord

has an anime pfp everywhere except twitter, writes way too much fanfiction, honorary treehouse girls discord server member, has a private server for anime and fanfics, honestly loves going online late at night and just bothering everybody

Clare

Twitter

Discord

Tumblr

TikTok

vents everywhere about her problems and everybody is annoyed at them and rightfully so

#tawog #gumball watterson #darwin watterson #the amazing world of gumball #anais watterson #penny fitzgerald #carrie krueger #tawog leslie #alan keane #tobias wilson #Carmen verde #masami yoshida #tawog teri #molly collins #Tawog ocho #sarah g. Lato #clare cooper

29 notes · View notes

softsnzstuff · 2 years

Text

Metal Doesn’t Take A Sick Day

Fandom: Stranger Things, Rockstar AU

Summary: Corroded Coffin is on their first ever National tour when Eddie gets sick, but he doesn’t want to disappoint the fans. What will he do??

Notes: Added kink!steve for funsies, so MINORS DNI

Also extra visuals added at the bottom for you 🤍 (Thanks Julien for turning my shitty Snapchat edits into legit looking ones)

Word count: ~ 11.7k

*****

October 10th

They’d been on the road for a little over a week now. Corroded Coffin had just kicked off their first ever National tour, the Welcome to Hellfire Tour. Things had kicked off in none other than Austin, Texas - the music capital.

Over the last week they had made their way through New Orleans, Miami, Atlanta and Charlotte. Today they were in Baltimore.

Usually their shows were in the evening with meet and greets beforehand. Here, however, they were playing an afternoon show as part of a concert series, and we’re doing their meet and greet after the fact.

When they’d finished with their set, they ran off stage, waving to the screaming fans. Crew hopped on to strike their things and set up for the next band that was coming on.

“This shit feels so surreal.” Jeff noted as they walked down the backstage corridor to the room where the meet and greet was being held.

“It’s just hard to believe this many people listen to our music.” Tim added.

“Eat it up boys, this is only the beginning.” Eddie slapped a hand on their shoulders and grabbed a towel from Gareth to wipe his face.

Their manager, Zoey, was waiting outside the closed doors with Steve.

“Great show, babe.” Steve pulled Eddie into a hug and kissed his cheek.

“There’s a line of about 150 people waiting in there for their photos with you boys. It’s completely at your discretion if you want to do poses or hugs or handshakes.” Zoey started. “And I’ve asked them to be respectful of your choices. Health and safety is the first priority always.”

The boys nodded. They were used to her schpeel by now. They were thankful for her thoughtfulness, but they could recite it by heart and it had only been a week.

“Thanks Zoey. First ever tour though. We aren’t going to say no to them.” Eddie smiled, “Ready boys?”

They nodded as he opened the door and poked just his head in. There was a sudden wave of screams. Eddie shut the door and looked at the guys, laughing. He opened the door - all the way this time - and they all walked in, waving at the line of fans. Their phones were out and they were screaming.

Zoey showed them to the spot they’d be standing in front of a professional photographer. There were already volunteers ready to help assist with line movement. The boy at the front ushered the first group of people to come forward.

“Oh my god hi!!” One of the girls said to them.

Eddie put on his fangirl impression, “Oh my god hi!!!” He mimicked, laughing. “Come here love, what’s your name?”

He pulled her into a hug as she stuttered, “M.. Megan. And this is my mom and brother, Jeremy.”

The older boy was trying to play it cool, nodding at them as he approached.

“What up, Jeremy? Thanks for coming out.”

The boys gathered around the two kids and their mom as they smiled for a photo. The camera flashed and Megan gave the rest of the guys hugs.

“Thank you so much!!” She yelled as she ran off.

The volunteer boy moved the next group forward. Things moved like this for about half an hour. Smoothly and efficiently, groups were ushered in. The boys talked to them for a minute, giving hugs or shaking hands and posing.

Zoey watched intently. She smiled seeing how excited the fans would get. Steve was next to her, watching as well. She glanced at her phone momentarily to check on arrangements for their next two stops in Newark and Philly.

A loud and sick-sounding sneeze sent hers and Steve’s heads shooting up again. She scanned the room, quickly landing on the culprit - a girl in her late teens/early twenties. She was in all black, clearly in her “edgy” phase.

A germaphobe herself, Zoey locked eyes on this girl, hoping she wouldn’t get too close to the boys. By the way Steve had stared, she imagined he felt the same way.

The girl wiped her nose on her fishnet gloves, stepping forward. She was next up in line to have her photo taken. Zoey pretended to look back down at her phone, but glanced back up when the girl moved forward at her turn.

“Hi Eddie bear!” She said, trying to make a move. She made a stride forward in her Doc Martens, putting one hand on his chest and using the other hand to reach under his chin and squeeze his cheeks.

Eddie laughed uncomfortably, glancing at the guys. “hey, what’s your name?”

The girl sniffled loudly, “Don’t you worry about that. You can just call me, Baby.”

The other three guys took a half step backwards inconspicuously. Eddie swallowed hard and went to put his arm around her shoulder for the photo. The girl slipped her arm around his waist, making Steve squirm seeing how uncomfortable Eddie was with the unwanted contact.

After the photo was snapped, Eddie put both hands in his pockets to avoid a hug. He nodded at her, “Nice meeting you.”

“Back at ya, Sexy.” Before he could move away, she was kissing his cheek and winking at him while she strode away with absolute confidence.

Eddie’s jaw was on the floor in absolute shock, the guys laughing nervously behind him. Zoey sighed deeply and made an apologetic glance at Eddie, who just shrugged it off.

The volunteer ushered the next group forward - a mom and son duo who immediately apologized for the girl prior.

“It’s fine. She’s just a kid. Doesn’t know any better I guess.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyways, buddy, what’s your name?”

---

October 12th

Yesterday’s show in Newark had gone on without a hitch. They’d gone to sleep feeling energized about the rest of the tour, and by morning the bus was driving through Philly.

Tim was the first one up and dressed, followed by Jeff, Gareth, and Steve. They were all snacking on variations of bagels, cereal or fruit.

“Morning Steve. Where’s Eddie?” Tim asked.

Steve looked confused, running a hand through his sleep ruffled hair, “Thought he was with you, no?”

Jeff shook his head, “Maybe he’s in the bathroom?”

“isshEW! tsch’uhew! H’iKSHhew!”

Steve froze where he stood and turned around. Eddie was walking towards them, rubbing the sleeve of his flannel underneath his nose.

“Bless you.” The guys murmured between bites of food.

Steve pecked a kiss on Eddie’s cheek as the older man grabbed a prepackaged muffin from the tour bus cabinet.

Eddie flopped into the booth with the rest of the guys as he took a bite out of his muffin. “What are we doing today?”

“You’ve got about five hours or so before we should start heading to the venue.” Steve noted, having discussed with Zoey the night prior.

“Let’s do a ghost tour!!” Gareth suggested. “I heard they have a couple that run in the daytime.”

“Sounds good to me.” Eddie said, the others nodding in agreement.

“We should be there in another half hour?” Steve added.

Once the tour bus had parked in the back of the venue, the guys separated to get ready for the day. Eddie pulled on some black jeans and the forest green flannel from earlier. He sniffled against the back of his wrist as he hopped off the bus with Steve, waiting for the rest.

Though it was overcast and cold, the sun hit Eddie just the right way to send a tickle buzzing through his nose. He twisted away from Steve and doubled over, hands on his knees as he sneezed openly toward the ground.

“ehh’KSHhiew! Hiht’shUH! Heh’iKSHew! snlorf”

Steve looked on as Eddie misted the ground beneath him. He swallowed, cheeks bright red. Bringing himself back to reality, Steve stepped forward and rubbed a hand on Eddie’s back as he straightened out again.

“Bless you! Are you okay? You seem extra… sniffly today.”

“snfsnff, I’m okay. Just a tickle or something.”

Gareth came running out of the bus followed by Jeff and Tim. “Alright fuckers, let’s do this!”

The ghost tour was mostly downtown where the historic buildings were. It wasn’t scary the way it would have been if they got to go at night, but a portion of the tour did go underground. It was echoey, cold and a little bit damp as the tour guide led them through the tunnels and recounted the dark history they’d seen.

The tour guide was in the middle of talking about what the tunnels were primarily used for when the familiar tickle came back with a Vengence.

Not wanting to interrupt or make a scene, Eddie ducked into the collar of his flannel, head bobbing with the near silent sneezes.

“H’xxT! NxxT! snf H’nxxT!!”

Steve almost wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for the watery sniffles that punctuated the tour every few minutes afterwards.

“Okay Eddie?” Jeff asked over his shoulder.

“Yeah man, it’s just snff cold in here is all.”

The tour itself was about two hours long. Of course the boys spent a good thirty minutes messing around in the gift shop afterwards before they grabbed some lunch and walked around.

They were always limited when it came to doing touristy things. They were only at these stops for a few hours, after all. The day flew by much faster than anticipated and they had to get back to the venue quite quickly.

“Oh good, you’re back!” Zoey exclaimed when the five of them rolled in through the back door. “The meet and greet is ready to go. Afterwards you’ll do sound check and then have about 45 minutes to get ready for the show.”

Familiar with the drill, the boys headed into the meet and greet area. They were greeted by the smiling faces of a ton of fans and their parents or chaperones.

“GARETH I LOVE YOU!!” Screamed one girl who was wearing a tee shirt that said ‘I’m With the Drummer’.

Gareth winked at her and followed the guys to their photo station.

When the volunteer told the first girl she could approach, she stayed still, smiling at Eddie hugely. He matched her energy, smiling back and opening up his arms. She ran over and gave him a huge hug.

“Hi! Thanks for coming out. What’s your name?”

“Heather! I love you so much oh my god. TIM! Your jacket is so fierce!”

“Thanks sweetheart!” Tim reached out to fist bump her.

They snapped a photo with her and the next group came forward. This one was a group of two best friends.

“Hi!!! Can we pose like this?” The older of the two girls held up her phone.

The guys gathered around looking at it. “Absolutely!”

They all lined up, and then Eddie leaned over and jumped slightly so that they were all lifting him up horizontally. He did finger guns at the camera and everyone smiled.

Tim helped Eddie down as they all took turns high fiving the girls.

“Thanks for coming out, you two. Enjoy the show!”

They were spending more time with each person today, so the meet and greet ended up taking about an hour and a half. When the last person had left they headed to the stage for sound check.

Eddie coughed lightly into his shoulder as he stood at the mic. “My voice feels a little scratchy today, I’m sorry.”

The strain in his voice was barely noticeable unless you knew him well, but nevertheless it was there.

“Alright Eddie, can you do just a few bars for us?” One of the AV Techs asked.

Eddie nodded. He sniffled and then cleared his throat, singing the chorus from Midnight Masochist. When the tech gave him the thumbs up he stopped and cleared his throat again as they moved on to Jeff.

When he left the stage, Steve was waiting with a bottle of water.

“Here babe, this’ll help your voice.”

“Thanks Steve.” Eddie smiled as he took the water bottle and cracked open the cap and took a sip.

Steve watched on as Eddie’s nose twitched. Bringing the water bottle down he twisted to the side.

“IxxtCHU! H’ngtCHEW! HeKSHhew! snFF excuse me.”

“Bless you! You sure you feel alright?” Steve looked at Eddie with a touch of concern and a hint of lust.

“Mmhmm.”

Steve stared skeptically at the damp rings around Eddie’s nostrils. Embarrassed, the man swiped at them.

“You’d tell me if you didn’t feel good right?” Steve asked.

Eddie nodded again, “You’ll be the first to know don’t worry.

---

The show that night was fine. The Philly crowd definitely goes harder than they had expected. Eddie’s voice still felt a little strained but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. By the time they’d come off stage and showered, he was wiped. Being in pajama pants and a tee shirt was possibly the best feeling ever.

The next two days were jam packed because they were in New York City for two nights. Anticipating the slammed schedules, they’d all retired to their bunks pretty soon after getting on the bus.

Each bunk had a curtain that could be drawn for privacy, the lights were all off except the little LEDs that lit up the floor path.

Eddie thought once his head hit the pillow he’d fall asleep, but he soon realized that being horizontal was not the best thing for him. Once laying down, his nose started buzzing. He knew the guys were trying to fall asleep so he wanted to stay quiet.

“Nxxt! IxxT!! H’NxxT! snfSnfff”

“Bless you.” Came a faint mumble from Gareth.

“Thehh thanks.” Eddie whispered back. The stifling had done nothing to alleviate the tickle. “HEH‘isshu! EKSHhew! HitsZIEW!”

“Bless you.” The four others mumbled again.

“Thank you…sorry.” Eddie mumbled.

He managed to keep his nose under control long enough to fall asleep at least for two or three hours. When he woke up again, it was to an unrelenting tickle in his throat.

He tapped his phone, the bright screen reading ‘2:33am’. Well fuck. He could tell everyone was sleeping by the rhythmic snoring patterns.

He coughed once, and then three times with his mouth closed, trying to be quiet. It wasn’t working. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe in and out slowly and deeply, breath quivering.

On one particular breath in, the tickle caught in his throat and sent him coughing harshly out loud. He brought his hands up to his mouth to try and muffle the sounds, but the snoring pattern had broke and he heard the sound of sheets moving as his bandmates stirred in their sleep.

He drew back his privacy curtain and padded to the bathroom, closing the door behind him before he turned on the light. He looked in the mirror and was met with a paler version of himself. He looked terrible.

He turned on the faucet and upped his hands, taking little sips of water from the sink, coughing as gently as he could.

After a few minutes of breathing, he took one last sip of water and washed his hands before returning to his bunk and falling into another restless sleep.

---

October 13th

The following morning was like deja vu. Tim had cooked eggs, sausages and some toast for everyone. The guys were in the booth seat at the front of the bus, eating at the table. Steve had some orange juice in front of him and Jeff had some fruit too.

They all heard Eddie before they saw him - a hoarse cough into the jacket sleeve that was pulled over his hand.

Steve took in his boyfriends appearance. He had dark circles under his eyes, the pale skin making his freckles stand out more than usual. His nose was pink and nostrils damp.

“Geez man, you look like shit.” Jeff commented.

“Sound like shit too, kept me up all night with your coughing.” Gareth teased.

“snfsnff sorry. I think hehh think I’m h’EKSHuhew! TzzIEW! H’iSHHew! SNF coming down with something…”

“I think you’ve already caught it.” Steve frowned.

“Ughh…” Eddie sat down in the booth next to Steve, grabbing a napkin and blowing his nose.

Steve squeezed his legs together, trying not to show how turned on he was. He wrapped an arm around Eddie, rubbing his arm and pushed his glass of juice towards the guitarist.

“Sounds like you need this more than me.”

Eddie leaned his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand, sipping at the juice.

“Are you gonna be good for the interview today? We’re gonna be there in like an hour.” Tim asked.

Eddie coughed into his fist, “I’ll be fine. Just need a minute.”

The guys nodded as they all got up from the table to get dressed for Good Morning America. Steve turned to Eddie now that they were alone.

“Poor guy. Your nose is so pink.” He reached out and booped the tip of Eddie’s nose.

“Fuhhck Steve… H’eKSHh! Isshew! Haht’SHEW!”

“Aw sorry baby. You’re so sensitive…” he pulled Eddie closer.

“It just tihhhckles HEH’iKSSHh! Fuck.”

Eddie sneezed down towards his lap and wiped his nose on the jacket sleeve. Steve felt his face get hot as he squeezed Eddie’s shoulder.

“I gotta go get ready. I’ll be back.” Eddie groaned and stood up to go change into something nicer.

When they arrived at the Times Square studio, they were dressed a little nicer. Eddie had a clean tee shirt with jeans and a blazer. Jeff had a polo shirt, Gareth was in a printed button down and Tim had a nice shirt and a tie.

One of the crew ladies helped mic them up and touched up their faces for the camera. “Okay so the hosts will introduce you and then you can go ahead and enter through here.”

The guys nodded and got ready, standing by the alcove as the hosts started the introduction.

“Joining us today is one of our favorite bands. They’re partway through their first ever Welcome to Hellfire Tour. We have Tim, Jeff, Gareth, and Eddie. Put your hands together for Corroded Coffin!!”

The guys walked on, waving at the studio audience, Eddie clasping his hands together and bowing at them in appreciation.

One by one, the guys shook the hands of the hosts and took a seat. Eddie leaned in to them, “I’d shake your hand but I have a cold right now.”

When they were all seated, the interview began.

“The fans have been waiting all morning. Thank you for being here today. Especially since, Eddie, we hear you aren’t feeling well?”

“I woke up with a bit of a cold this morning, yeah.” He answered.

The audience awww’ed in sympathy and Eddie just shrugged. “We roll with the punches. It’s fine.”

“We’re sorry to hear that. This is your first ever tour. How does it measure up to what you were expecting?”

“Gosh, I mean I think it’s blown all of us away?” Eddie looked to the guys.

Tim took over, “Yeah! We had no idea the turnout would be so incredible, and meeting all the fans has really been the best part of all of this.”

“Any particular stops you’re looking forward to?”

“I know Gareth here is looking forward to Vegas, but I think for all of us, the Homecoming show will be a big deal. That’ll be at the very end of the tour in mid-December.” Jeff smiled.

“Yeah, we were nobody’s in high school. Will be kind of cool to come back and play for the friends we did have.” Eddie added.

“Do you have a favorite moment so far?”

“Yeah! I hehh H’NxxT! IxxTCHU! HeKSHsh!” Eddie turned to the side, covering his nose and mouth with his wrist.

“Bless you!”

“Sorry in advance. He’ll probably do that several more times.” Gareth joked. Eddie elbowed him in the side.

“I think my favorite moment so far was snf when we performed Deadly Daydreams live at the first show … snf… and H’iSHuhEW! ikt’CHEW! SNF H’ATssiew! Christ, sorry.”

“Bless you again! That’s some cold you’ve got!”

Off stage, Steve bit his lip, trying not to think about how hot it was watching Eddie struggle through this interview.

“Ugh, so sorry. The first time we played Deadly Daydreams live, the audience brought out the phone flashlights and it looked like we were in space. Super surreal.” Eddie finished.

Jeff had reached over and patted Eddie’s shoulder. “It was really freaking awesome.”

“That must be such an amazing feeling! Why do you think so many people are connecting with your music?”

“You know,” Gareth started, “I think there’s a lot of reasons. A lot of our songs come from a place of feeling misunderstood and I think a lot of people can relate to that.”

“Gareth nailed it,” Eddie’s nose twitched, “We were outsiders for such a long time. I guess other people feel the same way?…H’itchUH!”

“Bless you! Last question before we go to break - do you think you’ll do another tour after this?”

“Oh absolutely!” Tim exclaimed.

“100% we would love to. Just have to get used to the wear and tear if the road I guess.” Eddie sniffled against his wrist.

The hosts laughed. “We’re going to go to a quick commercial break, but when we come back, Corroded Coffin is going to perform one of the songs off their latest album!”

The cameras panned away and a countdown timer appeared for four minutes. The stage just to the right of the interview room was already set up, lights dimmed with blue aura.

Eddie had just enough time to switch out his blazer for a leather jacket. He took a sip of water and grabbed a tissue from the box Steve was holding offstage, blowing it gently.

“Thanks Steve.” He called as he jogged back to the stage.

He cleared his throat as the timer counted down from five. The hosts resuming their spot from before.

“Welcome back to Good Morning America! We’re joined by Corroded Coffin on their first North American tour. They’re here today to perform Midnight Masochist.”

The camera panned over to the stage as Eddie started the opening chords on his guitar, Gareth joining in shortly after in drums.

The crowd was excited, jumping up and down and grooving with the beat.

When the performance was over the guys said their thank you’s and goodbye’s to the hosts and waved to to the crowd on the way out.

---

Eddie was on the couch backstage rubbing his eyes. Steve sat on the edge of the couch and patted his thigh.

“How ya feeling rockstar?”

Eddie groaned, “Ngggg not great. Throat hurts. Head hurts. Snf my nose is just so tickly…”

“Poor guy. You wanna get some of those sneezes out before your meet and greet?”

Eddie sniffed wetly. “Yeah but… What do you mean? I can’t just sneeze on command Stevie.”

Steve leaned forward kissing Eddie’s forehead. “I know. I’ll help.”

The younger man kissed the tip of Eddie’s nose, lingering a little longer than normal, already feeling it twitch.

“Hissshoo! Ehtssiew! TschEW!”

“Did that help?” Steve asked, trying not to give himself away.

“Yeah but snfsnff still tickles…”

Steve traced his finger down the bridge of Eddie’s nose, tracing the rim of his already damp nostrils. He felt Eddie’s nose flare against his hand.

“IK’tchEW! HaSHHew! Etchoo!… hih… H’eKSHuhew!”

“Bless you, Eds. Is that better?” Steve handed him a tissue from the table.

Eddie nodded, blowing his nose. There was a knock on the door before Zoey entered.

“They’re almost ready to start the meet and greet, Eddie.”

Eddie nodded, tissue still pressed to his nose. He stood up, pocketing the tissue and walked with Steve over to the back room where it was being held.

“Hey everyone!” He called out to the fans that were in line. They slowly stopped talking. “I’ve got a cold, so I won’t be doing any handshakes tonight. Just wanted to warn you in advance!”

“WE LOVE YOU EDDIE!!!” Someone in the back of the line screamed.

Eddie chuckled and blew a kiss. “Love you guys too!”

The meet and greet went as expected. The other guys have fist bumps or high fives, while Eddie tried not to. That being said, a ton of fans still wanted to give him hugs and do poses for pictures. He felt a little bit guilty, but he did warn them.

---

When Eddie came off stage after the show, he looked absolutely drained. He was paler than before and his voice was even more strained.

“You look like death warmed over. Let’s get you to the hotel and into bed.”

Eddie leaned against Steve, nodding in tired agreement. Since they were doing two nights in New York, Zoey had put them up in a hotel.

Eddie showered and all but collapsed into the bed. Steve showered after him, and when he got out, Eddie was already snoring. The younger man toweled off his hair and smiled softly, knowing some sleep should do him some good.

---

October 14th

Despite the roughly ten hours of sleep he got, Eddie woke up feeling worse than the day before. His cough was more productive; deep and settled in his chest.

“Oof, I don’t like the sound of that babe.” Steve rubbed a hand on Eddie’s back as the man sat on the edge of the bed coughing.

“ih’aKSHuhew!” Eddie punctuated the end of his coughing fit with a rather wet sneeze. “Ugh. Doesn’t feel too great either…”

“Want me to go get you a tea from the coffee shop?” Steve offered. He was already dressed in jeans and a nice sweater.

“I’ll, *ahem* I’ll come with you. Need some fresh air.”

Eddie pulled on his own jeans and threw a hoodie on over his long sleeve. The great thing about Manhattan was that you could throw a rock in any direction and almost certainly hit a Dunkin Donuts or a Starbucks.

Eddie and Steve settled on the latter since they had the good sick tea that Eddie liked. As they stood in line, Eddie leaned against Steve, the younger man holding him tight at the waist.

At one point, Eddie felt his breath hitch. He turned away from the other customers in line, which happened to mean towards Steve. Anticipating what was about to happen, Steve held Eddie’s head against his own chest as the older man attempted to stifle into the sleeve of his jacket.

“NxxT! H’xxT! IxxTCHEW!”

Eddie pulled back from Steve’s chest, wiping at the small damp spot he had left. “Snfff sorry Steve.”

Steve was more than okay with it, but didn’t want to tell that to Eddie. All he managed to choke out was, “S’okay Eds. Bless you.”

When it was their turn, the girl at the counter was finishing writing something on a cup. Sensing the customer presence, she spoke cheerily as she wrote.

“Welcome to Starbucks what can I get for you toda- oh my god.”

She dropped the pen as she looked up and locked eyes with Eddie.

“Oh my god,” she said again. She switched to a whisper, “Eddie Munson?? In my Starbucks???? I’m coming to your show later tonight!”

“What a small world! Thanks for supporting us! What’s your name, love?”

“It’s uh… it’s Kaitlyn.” She pointed at her name tag awkwardly. “I can’t believe you’re in my store. My friend and I spent months saving tip money to come see you and now you’re here???”

“You got a napkin and a pen I could use?” Eddie asked.

Kaitlyn handed him one and Eddie started scribbling on it. He handed the napkin back to Kaitlyn.

Let them in Johnny. You owe me one. - E.M.

“It doesn’t look like much but bring this to the scary looking bald guy outside VIP and he’ll let you in. He owes me a favor anyways.” Eddie winked at her.

“Oh my god!! Thank you so much??!! What can I get started for you?”

“Steve probably wants a cold brew, but can I get one of those magic sick teas that you guys make?”

“Absolutely!” Kaitlyn picked up two venti cups and started scribbling on them. “You’re not getting sick are you?”

“Eh, think I already am unfortunately. Can’t seem to shake this stupid cold.” He clocked the girls nervous look, “But you’re absolutely saving my life with this tea!”

“I hope you feel better! And thank you for this!” She clutched the napkin close to her chest.

“Thank you for this tea!” Eddie and Steve grabbed their drinks from the other side of the counter from the boy preparing the drinks. “See you at the show, Kaitlyn!”

---

The show that night went pretty well. Eddie opted for more acoustic covers that preserved his voice.

“Sorry guys, I’m a little sick still, but uh Kaitlyn from Starbucks practically healed me with her magic tea. Kaitlyn if you’re out there, thank you!”

The crowd cheered, especially loud in one section. A group of girls were pointing and jumping up and down. Eddie smiled and waved, “Hi Kaitlyn!!”

Post-show they had an interview on one of the late night talk shows. Eddie felt a little self conscious appearing as haggard as he did. Coming down from the high of a show, mixed with his already worsening cold - he could only imagine how run down he looked.

Thankfully, Steve was there, waiting off stage with cough drops and tissues. They performed one of their songs, which did nothing to help his sore throat, and also played a fun game that the host had prepared beforehand. It was fun, but Eddie was more than happy to sleep on the tour bus as soon as the show went off air.

---

October 15th

For the most part, Providence was great! When Eddie woke up, his head felt a little less foggy and he felt about 60% better than the day before. He was still a little bit congested with a slight cough, but he figured that was to be expected - and overall, not anything he couldn’t handle.

As soon as they had come back to the tour bus post-show, there was a text message from Nancy in the group chat they all had.

Nancy (11:21pm)

How did the show go? We’ve been watching your interviews on all the talk shows, Superstar!

Eddie (11:36pm)

Oh cool so you’ve seen me sneezing my head off in every interview then! 🙃 Show tonight was fine. Providence knows how to rock.

Nancy (11:37pm)

It’s not toooo noticeable you’re sick idk

Robin (11:38pm)

She’s being generous there, but it’s not too bad. How do you feel?

Steve (11:40pm)

He certainly looks a lot better today!

Eddie (11:42pm)

Oh thanks Stevie….

Steve (11:42pm)

That’s not what I meant…

Eddie (11:43pm)

Seriously though, I feel better. Might finally be starting to shake this stupid cold???

Robin (11:45pm)

Don’t jinx it Dingus!

---

October 16th

Eddie’s usually pretty good at acknowledging his mistakes, and if he had to pinpoint this one, it was almost definitely Boston.

In his defense, he really did feel better in Providence! It was only an hour drive to Boston, and Zoey had put them up in a hotel for that night.

She and the rest of the boys stopped by the room around 8am the next morning, ready to start the day. Steve opened the door, a frown plastered on his face.

“You look tired, man.” Jeff commented on Steve’s appearance.

The brunette leaned heavy on the doorframe, “Yeah. Was up all night with Eddie. He’s-”

“it’chiew! H’eKSHew! Snf HAKSHhuh!”

“-worse today…” Steve finished.

“Aw crap. I thought he said he was feeling better?” Gareth pondered.

“He was! He sort of got hit with a second wave in the middle of the night. You guys can come in and see him.”

Steve stepped aside so the gang could enter, sitting on various chairs from around the hotel room. Eddie was lying in bed, propped up against two pillows. The sleeves of his hoodie functioned like gloves as he blew his nose.

“Sorry guys. I really thought I was doing better.” He coughed heavily into the crook of his arm, making Tim wince.

He looked and sounded terrible, congestion rounding the consonants of his already tired voice.

“It’s okay dude, we just want you to feel better. Maybe you should rest here today instead of exploring with us.”

“Already plhehh planning on it.. H’iKSHhew! Isshew! TsCHSH!”

“Bless you.” Came several replies.

“I’m gonna stay here with him today.” Steve mentioned, “I think he’s got a fever but I can’t really tell.”

Zoey frowned at that statement. “I’m going to call the hotel doctor. See if he can come by this afternoon and see what’s going on.”

Eddie wanted to protest and argue that he didn’t need a doctor to come look at him, but he was too tired and just nodded.

“Geez dude. Well… order some room service soup or something and try and rest yeah?”

Eddie nodded again, rubbing his nose with the heel of his hand. As the band and Zoey let themselves out, Steve crawled into the bed and sat upright next to Eddie. He let the older man lay his head on his chest.

“Don’t feel good Stevie…” he mumbled.

“I know Eds I’m sorry.”

They’d only been laying like that for thirty minutes or so before Eddie spontaneously inhaled a huge breath.

“Heh-issshew! H’igTCH’uh! H’eKSH,ikshh!”

Each uncovered sneeze from Eddie sent a new pattern of sickly spray across Steve’s chest, leaving little damp spots on his shirt. He was immensely thankful Eddie’s eyes were closed or else he would’ve seen his cock twitch in his pants.

“Oh fuck! I’b so sorry Steve!” Eddie sounded like he wanted to cry from embarrassment.

“Hey hey it’s okay! Don’t worry about it. I’m here to be your pillow and catch your sneezes okay?”

“But your shirt…” Eddie whimpered.

“Here, how about this then?” Steve got up and walked to the bathroom, returning with a hand towel and another box of tissues.

He got back into the bed and draped the towel over his chest, placing Eddie’s head gently where it was before.

“There. Now my shirt is safe and I can still take care of you. Can you blow for me?” Steve asked holding a tissue to his partners nose.

Eddie stared up at him confused, but nodded reluctantly. Blowing gently, Steve pinched away any mess and tossed the tissue to the side, letting Eddie rest.

Steves phone pinged loudly from the bedside table. The brunette picked it up and looked at the notification. It was a text from Zoey:

Zoey (9:26 am)

Hotel Doctor is available today and will be there around 11am.

Steve quickly shot a text back.

Steve (9:30am)

Sounds good. We’ll be here. Will let you know what he says.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to fall into a light sleep, congested snores acting as white noise for Steve. The younger man scrolled on his phone and texted Robin and Nancy in the group chat while his boyfriend slept.

Around 10:45, Steve decided it was time to wake Eddie. He was still sound asleep across Steve’s chest. A small trail of mess leaked out of his nostril and had dropped onto the towel Steve had laid out.

He reached out with his right arm and rubbed Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey Ed’s. It’s time to wake up.”

He groaned and shifted slightly before his breath started to hitch threateningly. With his free hand, Steve pulled up the end of the towel and used it to cover Eddie’s mouth.

“AtchUMPF! H’mpTSH! eh’TSHiew!”

Steve handed the towel over to Eddie, as he sat up, wiping his nose.

“Wha’time sit?”

“Almost 11. The doctor should be here any minute”

Knock knock knock

“Speak of the devil…” Steve smirked at Eddie as he got up to open the door.

“Hi, you must be Steve.” The man reached out to shake Steve’s hand.

“Yes, thanks for coming on such short notice. Come on in.”

The man was tall and slender, wearing a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had a small satchel with him as he entered.

“Mister Munson, pleasure to meet you. Sorry it’s under these circumstances. I’m Doctor Johnson.”

“Eddie, please.”

“So tell me what’s been going on, Eddie.”

Eddie coughed into his elbow, “Ughh. Caught this stupid cold almost a week ago. Felt better yesterday but now I feel like I got hit by a bus.”

Doctor Johnson nodded, “Can you elaborate a little bit?”

Eddie nodded but held a finger up as he twisted away. “iKTCHew! eh’tssiew! H’aKSHhew!”

“Bless you! So congestion and sneezing are definitely symptoms.”

Steve nodded profusely from aside. “snff yeah. Um I woke up with this headache in the back of my head but it’s slowly moving to the front? A cough and uh I'm just really tired.”

Doctor Johnson observed as Eddie wiped his nose on his hoodie sleeve. “Are you feeling cold Eddie?”

Eddie looked confused for a moment, like he hadn’t considered. “Um yeah I guess.”

“Alright Eddie, I think I know what’s going on here but I’m going to do a quick exam to make sure. I’m going to start with looking in your ears and throat.”

He pulled out an otoscope from his satchel and turned the device on.

“Open please.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out and opened his mouth as Doctor Johnson shined the light towards the singer’s throat. He switched out the plastic tips and moved to Eddie’s ears, looking inside.

“And open one more time.”

This time it was the tip of a plastic thermometer that went under his tongue. While they waited, Doctor Johnson inserted the earpieces of his stethoscope and held the end to Eddie’s back while he breathed.

“Good news! Lungs sound clear.” Doctor Johnson commented lightheartedly as the thermometer beeped.

He slipped the device out and gave it a quick glance. “99.4°. A little high, but certainly nothing to be concerned about. I’m thinking it’s your basic flu. I’d recommend a couple days of rest, lots of fluid, and you can take some acetaminophen for the fever or aches if needed.”

Eddie looked defeated. “Shit. Thanks Doc.”

“My pleasure! Get some rest!”

Steve showed the Doctor out before returning to Eddie’s side in bed. “Do you want me to tell Zoey to cancel the show tonight?”

Eddie’s eyes shot open, “Are you crazy?? No! Why would you do that??” His voice was panicked, but not harsh.

“Eddie. You heard Doctor Johnson. You’ve got the flu. He said you should rest for a few days.”

“No! There’s … H’igsshEW! … no way we’re postponing the tour, Steve.”

Eddie pulled out his phone and started tapping away. A minute later, Steve received a notification about a new post from Eddie.

Well, hotel Doctor officially says it’s the flu…I’ll be damned if you think that means I’m postponing the Welcome to Hellfire Tour though. As long as you don’t mind my incessant nose blowing or coughing breaks, I’m ready to rock! 🤘🏻🤧🤒

Steve read the caption and shot Eddie a frustrated look. Eddie shrugged and then tossed his phone aside as he lay back down.

The younger man pulled out his own phone again and shot Zoey a text that read:

Steve (11:21)

The verdict is in. Eddie’s got the flu. Doctor recommended a few days’ rest, but Eddie’s got other plans… check Instagram 🙄

Jeff (11:23)

Why does he have to be so god damn stubborn all the time?

Zoey (11:24)

Order him some soup. Get him as rested as possible before tonight…

Tim (11:30)

Worse comes to worst, we can cover him with some vocals if he ends up wanting to just play guitar.

Gareth (11:32)

Doubt he’ll go for that but the offer is there.

Steve rolled his eyes and put in an order for room service lunch for the two of them. He knew that after this show, they had to immediately head to the airport to catch a red eye.

They had to fly out to LA to continue the second leg of the tour on the West Coast, where another tour bus was waiting for them. It was bad enough Eddie was sick, but adding a show and a red eye? He was in for a long night.

---

Despite what he would have believed, the room service soho did nothing to help Eddie’s sinuses or headache. He was starting to regret the decision to keep playing the shows, but it was too late now to admit it.

The meet and greet, Eddie figured, was probably one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. He was usually so energetic, charismatic, and willing to do fun poses with fans. Tonight, he just hoped his smile looked somewhat genuine.

Only halfway through the line, his nose started to tickle more than it had in the last thirty minutes.

“Eddie!! I love you!” A girl screamed as she ran towards him.

“One second…” he turned away from her, bringing an elbow to his nose. “H’itshHEW! Isshew! Heh’eKSHhew!”

“Bless you!” She exclaimed as she gave all the guys a hug.

“Thanks.” Eddie made space for her in the picture as they smiled at the camera.

“Thanks so much for coming.” Tim smiled at her as she ran off.

The next girl, about 25 came bounding up to them. She held up a small pile of fabric.

“Hi, I made you all some shirts. I hope you don’t mind! It’s an original design!!”

“Wow, that’s so cool!” Eddie exclaimed, excitedly but sapped of energy.

Gareth unfolded his and held it up, wiggling his eyebrows. It was a baseball tee that said “Corroded Coffin” with bats. On the back was a graphic of all the boys coming out of an open coffin. Scribbled at the top we’re the words “Welcome to Hellfire North American Tour”.

“This is so sick, thank you so much!” Jeff’s eyes were wide with excitement. “Can we give you a hug? What’s your name?”

The girl gave them huge hugs as she squealed, “I’m Lauren!”

“And you’ve got one on as well!” Tim pointed out.

“Yeah! We will be the only five that have one!”

The guys gathered around her, holding up their shirts as they raised the rock n roll hand to the camera. It flashed as the moment was captured in time.

“Thank you guys so much! Have a great show!!!” She jumped up and down as she started to leave.

“Hey thank you so much for these.” Eddie looked her in the eye with a firm hand on her shoulder.

She beamed up at him and nodded, running off afterwards.

“She was sweet.” Tim commented, but Eddie wasn’t listening. He was already turned around again.

“IngxxTCH! igKSHiew! NgtCHUH! snfsnff.”

“Bless-” Gareth started but was cut off, Eddie doubling over, holding onto his knees for support.

“iKTSCHew! HuSSHoo! H’eKSHhiew! Fuck!”

Eddie sniffled soupily, coughing as congestion caught in his throat. Steves heart skipped a beat, half from worry and half from lust.

“You okay Eds?” Jeff had a steady hand on his friends back.

“Ughh I just.. H’eKSH! Isshiew! Tschew! … dam’bit. I ndeed a m’binute.”

Back of his wrist still pressed firmly to his nose to prevent any leakage, he rushed out grumpily, double doors closing behind him. Steve decided to intervene and speed walked after him.

“Eddie! Hey, talk to me!”

Eddie stopped in his tracks and leaned his back against the hallway wall, slowly letting himself sink to the floor.

“Here.” Steve knelt down, pulling a travel pack of tissues from his back pocket.

Eddie took a handful, finally moving his wrist as he gurgled into the tissues. He set the used ones down in the floor next to him and took a couple more, blowing again.

“Feel better?” Steve asked sympathetically.

“No.” Eddie whined. He could be a little prickly when sick, but he just sounded frustrated. “I feel like complete shit Steve. I can’t even do a fucking meet and greet without sneezing like crazy! How am I gonna do a whole show!?”

“Do you want me to tell them to stop?” Steve asked, unsure of how to help.

“Maybe just the meet and greet. I just want to sit with you for a few minutes before the show.”

“Okay.” Steve said. He stood up and poked his head out the double doors, signaling to Zoey with a gesture of a hand by his neck.

She nodded to Steve and stepped forward to make her announcement to the remaining fifty people in line.

“Alright everyone, unfortunately Eddie isn’t feeling well and will miss the rest of the meet and greet. I’m so sorry!”

---

Eddie was his own harshest critic and would probably be the first to tell you that the October 16th show was “mediocre at best”.

Red and blue lights flashed behind them while Gareth pounded on the kick drum.

“So some of you probably heard… I have the fucking flu.” Eddie’s words echoed in the arena and he spoke into the mic.

The crowd flooded with “awww”s or booing at the illness.

“I uh,” he turned to the side to cough, “Snf, I feel pretty shitty but I’m hoping we can get through this together. Are you ready to rock, Boston??”

The crowd cheered.

“I can’t fucking hear you! I said are you ready to rock?” The shouting was really straining his voice.

He winced slightly as the crowd roared back. “Alright guys this first song is called The Forest.”

He coughed into his shoulder again as he started to strum the strings on his guitar for the intro to the song.

Every couple of songs he’d have to pause, letting the other guys entertain the crowd while he walked off to the side to blow his nose. Thankfully there was only once time that he couldn’t stop coughing and had to get some water offstage for a minute or two.

By the end of the show, he was tired, sweaty, and too congested to function properly.

“Thank you Boston!” He shouted as best he could, having to cough into his elbow before waving and exiting the stage.

They had time for a quick shower backstage before Zoey had to start ushering them to the van that was waiting out back.

“Sorry boys, we have a flight to catch! Your things are already inside and the West Coast your bus is waiting!”

Inside the van, Eddie rested his head against Steve’s shoulder, eyes closed as he fell in and out of sleep. Steve felt guilty having to wake him up when they arrived 40 minutes later, but it had to be done.

“Alright, tickets everyone!” Zoey was like a mother of five as she handed out plane tickets to each individual.

They checked their bags and made it to the TSA line with no issue.

“Alright sir, step through.”

Eddie followed the instructions and stepped onto the yellow footprints inside the scanning tube. He placed his hands above his head, mimicking the diagram in front of him. The scanner of the tube slid from left to right quickly.

“Alright you can step out. Anything in your pockets sir?” The gentleman asked, noting the alarm spot in the scan.

“Oh shit uhhh..” Eddie dig into his sweatpants pockets and pulled out a handful of used tissues. “Just these, sorry.”

The security guard chuckled. “It’s alright man, there’s a trash can over there. Have a good night.”

The rest of the guys chuckled at the scene, Eddie flipping them the bird as he grabbed his bag and shoes off the conveyer belt.

“Okay! About an hour and a half until boarding. Snacks and sit?” Zoey suggested.

Gareth nodded, slapping Tim and Jeff in the arm so that they would follow him to the Hudson News store for snacks. Zoey walked off to a small seating area, Eddie following sluggishly behind her.

“Eds, want anything?” Steve asked, stopping where he was following the guys.

“No.” Eddie shook his head and sulked off with Zoey. Poor guy looked absolutely miserable.

Steve raided the Hudson News. He grabbed some Tylenol, waters, a small bottle of NyQuil, cough drops and Reese’s cups - Eddie’s favorite. He paid for the items and grabbed the small plastic bag, walking back to meet up with Zoey and Eddie.

When he got there, Eddie was crumpled in a ball taking up two seats, Zoey tapping away at her phone and glancing over every few minutes with worry.

Steve had considered waking Eddie, but decided against it, instead opting to talk with Zoey and the guys until it was almost time to board.

Eddie roused conveniently about twenty minutes to boarding. He looked at Steve with fever glazed eyes. The younger man was unwrapping the plastic from the bottle of NyQuil.

“Hey Eddie, take some of this for me okay?” He handed Eddie a small plastic cup with the green liquid.

“Okay…” he coughed again before taking the cup and knocking it back.

“Good boy.” Steve kissed him on the head.

---

Eddie pulled on his hoodie before they boarded the plane. It was still so surreal for them to be flying first class, but in this moment, he was thankful for the extra leg room and his seat next to Steve.

Steve had feared the worst earlier that afternoon and it didn’t take long for the fears to manifest. He’d hoped Eddie could sleep, but once they’d hit cruising altitude, he was just uncomfortable. His ears ached, the air was dry, his nose was stuffy but tickly at the same time.

Eddie had been sniffling periodically throughout the flight, but an hour or so in, he started fidgeting and rubbing his nose more aggressively.

“Hey babe, be gentle.” Steve tried to pull Eddie’s hands away from his face.

“…tickles.” Eddie groaned.

Steve felt himself tense slightly. Suddenly, Eddie brought his sleeved hand up to his mouth.

“NxxT! IxxTch! N’gtch!”

“Bless you!” Steve rubbed some small circles on Eddie’s back and pulled him in closer, biting his lip.

“Thank- ig’tchuh! TsCH! IxxT!”

Several watery sniffles punctuated the silence of the airplane, nothing but the hum of the engine to listen to.

“Ow…” Eddie held his ear. One of them had popped from stifling the sneezes.

“Just let them out Eddie…”

Eddie shook his head no aggressively and pulled the hood of his jacket on.

“Why not? I know the tickle is bothering you.”

“Don’t want people to look at me.” Eddie whispered.

Steve looked up and saw that several other passengers were staring probably in annoyance or disgust. They averted their eyes as soon as they locked with Steve’s.

“Hey, then look at me instead.” Steve placed his hands on Eddie’s shoulder and pivoted the older man to be facing him, hood still over his head. Steve grabbed a few tissues in preparation.

“Hehh Steve I’m gonna…”

Steve wasn’t aware, but he licked his lips as Eddie tilted his head back. His eyes fluttered shut as his reddened nostrils flared.

He pitched forward, hands hovering a good six inches from his face as he sneezed openly towards his and Steve’s lap.

“NG’tchUH! HeKSHhiew! Tsschew!… ihKSHT!”

The last sneeze sent twin trails of mess down onto Eddie’s lips as he flushed with embarrassment.

“Bless you, babe! You even threw in an extra one for me.” Steve wiped away the mess on Eddie’s lips and then leaned in for a kiss.

“Steve you’re gonna get sick.” Eddie flopped his forehead onto Steve’s shoulder as he sniffled pathetically.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Steve kissed the top of Eddie’s hair and pulled him into a side hug. “Try and sleep the rest of the flight if you can okay? NyQuil should kick in soon.

---

October 17th

The flight landed in LA sometime around 4am Pacific time. Zoey had put them in a hotel again for this first night since the West Coast tour bus was still being prepped.

Everyone was in bed by 5:30am and trying to sleep before the wake up call at 9am for the 11am interview sessions.

9am rolled around much faster than anyone would have liked, especially Eddie. The alarm was snoozed probably three times before he finally sat up, congestion shifting immediately.

“H’atsCHh! eKSHhew! Haessshuh!” The sneezes scraped his throat as they came tumbling out. Eddie sniffled thickly as Steve emerged from the bathroom.

“Bless you, geez. You sound awful Eddie.”

“I…” he coughed into his elbow, “I feel pretty awful too.”

His voice cracked, raspy and strained. He noted the bright flush on Eddie’s cheeks and walked closer, feeling his forehead and then his cheeks.

“You’re burning up Eds. I’m going to text Zoey.”

“But I- okay.” Eddie flopped back onto the pillows, accepting defeat.

Steve (9:47)

Eddie’s out for interviews today. He’s got a fever and his cough sounds worse.

Jeff (9:52)

Shit okay… we’ll be right there.

“How you feeling man?” Gareth asked Eddie as he walked into the room with everyone following.

“Like shit, man.” Eddie rasped, coughing again.

“Yeah. Absolutely no interviews for you today. How do you feel about the show, Eddie?”

“I’m thinking I’ll *ahem* try if I can. Or maybe the guys can sing and I’ll just play Guitar. I feel bad though because that’s not the show people paid to see.”

“I think they’ll understand whichever way you go.” Steve muttered.

“I know I know, it’s just fucking disappointing. I’ll try and rest up today? See if I’ll be good by tonight?”

Everyone nodded silently, Zoey making arrangements on her phone.

“Let me just update the fans.” Gareth mentioned, pulling out his phone. “Everyone’s worried about you, killer.”

He posted a picture of Eddie in bed, with the caption:

Hey Los Angeles, @eddiethebanished is pretty sick right now. He’s missing some interviews this morning and is going to rest all day. We aren’t sure yet if he’ll be able to play tonight’s show. HE really wants to, but of course, sickness is out of his control. Thanks for hanging tight while we figure this out. Stay tuned for updates on the show! 🤘🏻Corroded Coffin x

“Okay. I’ll take the guys to do press. When we’re done I’ll check back in about the show. Does that sound okay?”

Eddie have a thumbs up, trying to save his voice.

“Alright Steve. Take care of our boy while we’re gone.” Tim pointed at Steve.

Steve nodded, “Tea and soup is already on its way.”

---

When press was done for the day, the guys dialed up Eddie on Zoey’s phone. They put it on speaker so they could all hear him.

There was some coughing on the other end of the line before Eddie spoke. “H’llo?”

“Hey Eddie, feeling any better?”

“Eh, about the same I guess.”

“You thinking you want to cancel the show tonight?” Jeff addressed the elephant in the room.

“I want to do the show.” Eddie rasped.

the guys and Zoey could hear Steve whispering in the background.

“Eddie are you sure?” Steve whispered.

“I want to do it. I’ll just bring lots of water and Gatorade on stage. It’ll be fine.”

There was a hesitant pause from everyone in the group.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll skip the meet and greet because I’m probably contagious but I want to try the show.”

“Alright. We’ll cover you if you need it, just let us know.”

---

The front of the stage was lined with three water bottles and two bottles of blue Gatorade for Eddie. He downed one of the bottles of water within the first three songs.

“Thanks for sticking this out with me guys. This bug… iKSHew! H’etCHiew! N’TCHew! … this bug is nasty but I’m glad you’ll still let me play for you. I’m sorry it’s not the Corroded Coffin experience you were expecting…”

“We love you Eddie!!!” The crowd screamed.

Eddie gave a weak smile and wiped some sweat from his forehead.

The video that was circulating all over Twitter was Eddie leaning against the microphone stand, coughing after Deadly Daydreams. Everyone had something to say about that night’s show.

‘Poor Eddie. Such a trooper continuing with the LA show tonight.’

‘Eddie having to lean against the microphone is the softest thing ever. I just want to wrap him up and take him home…’

“Sorry guys I need to lay down for a minute.” Eddie sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the stage. “This next one is our newest single - Boy With A Bat.”

Eddie leaned backwards, laying on the stage, legs still hanging off the edge. As the guys started playing music, Eddie brought the mic up to his face to sing.

Everyone knew Boy With a Bat was about Steve. Even though he was laying down, Eddie tried to be in the moment. He closed his eyes when he started the song and when he opened them again, a ton of phone lights lit up the arena like a thousand stars.

The final note of the song was high. Certainly not out of range for Eddie, but with this flu and his already strained voice, it came out more like a rasp that made him cough.

He sat up, coughing heavily. He reached for one of the Gatorade bottles and took a sip. He picked up the microphone again and held it to his mouth.

“Can we show some love for the guys coming in to sanitize this mic when I’m done with it? Geez…”

The crowd went nuts, cheering and laughing. He didn’t think he could ever get used to this - the fans knowing his music and laughing at his terrible jokes - he was so grateful.

Towards the end of the show during a water break, Gareth looked to Eddie and mouthed, “Encore?”

Eddie shook his head No and the guys nodded in agreement.

“Alright guys this is our last song tonight. Thank you for rocking with us! We love you!”

---

When the show was over and the guys were showered, they piled into the new West Coast tour bus. This one was bigger than the last one, giving Eddie and Steve a bed to share in the very back room.

Steve was already waiting in the bedroom when Eddie all but collapsed into his arms.

“Hey babe. Great show.” Steve ran a hand through Eddie’s hair. “You feel really warm Eddie…”

“Hnnnnnnnng…” he just groaned in response, already falling asleep.

His limbs felt heavy against Steve’s torso. The younger man set his phone aside and pulled a blanket over his legs and Eddie.

---

Throughout the night, Eddie would toss and turn, coughing a deep cough that was worrying Steve. He realized Eddie was sweating sometime around 3am.

Steve got up to grab a wet washcloth and sat next to Eddie, wiping his brow while he slipped in and out of a fevered sleep. Even his dreams took a nasty turn.

‘You’ll never be anything if you take days off Eddie.’ The words were cold and came from his Uncle Wayne. This was so unlike him to say that.

‘You’re letting down all of the fans. They paid to see US. What about our dreams Eddie???’

That voice came from Gareth, his best friend from childhood.

‘Why are you even coming to do a show in Hawkins anyways?’ Chrissy this time, ‘No one wants to see you, freak.’

‘Why are you so obsessed with me? I hung out with you because I felt bad.’ Oh no. This one was Steve.

Why were his loved ones saying these things? He didn’t understand. He was just sick. He could fix it. He could be the man they wanted him to be. He just didn’t feel good right now….

Eddie was whimpering, his brow furrowed and his muscles tense. Steve didn’t know what Eddie was having nightmares about. All he knew was that morning couldn’t come soon enough.

---

October 18th

Jeff, Gareth and Tim were in the tour bus “kitchen” talking when the sun came up. Jeff was sitting at the booth eating some cereal while Gareth was leaned against the counter with a bagel. Tim was next to Gareth, prepping some food.

“Anyone else kinda worried about Eddie?” Tim asked in a hushed voice. Steve and Eddie were still in the bedroom at the back of the bus.

The guys nodded. “He’s just nonstop. Every interview, meet and greet, show. He wants to be there…” Jeff added.

“I mean shit, are you surprised?” Gareth asked, “We’ve known him since forever. He never wants to let anyone down, especially fans.”

“And we love him for it, but I feel like he should take a day. Or three…” Jeff frowned slightly, glancing at the closed door.

Suddenly, the door opened and a tired and concerned looking Steve emerged. His hair was ruffled from sleep and he rubbed at his eyes. They could hear Eddie coughing from the bedroom.

Steve looked up to see the three other men staring at him. “Good morning?” He offered.

“Sorry! Morning.” Tim said, snapping himself out of it.

“I’m just making Eddie some soup.” Steve grabbed a small pot from the cupboard and a can of Campbells chicken noodle that he’d picked up the other day.

He opened the van and dumped out the contents, adding a little bit of water and heating it up. The guys were silent, shooting one another these knowing looks, willing one of them to say something but no one seemed to want to.

They were finally saved when Eddie emerged, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was paler than before, nose pink and hair messy.

“Steve?” He rasped.

Steve turned around and rushed over to him, “What is it? Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Wanted some more water.”

Eddie started to cough, bringing the blanket up to cover his mouth. It was a chesty barking cough that sounded just as painful as it probably was.

Steve rubbed his back lovingly, “Eddie you can just text me. I’ll bring you whatever you need.”

Eddie nodded and turned his attention to his bandmates. “Think m’out tonight, boys. I feel sehh so H’aKSHh! itCHEW! snfsnff heh’ITSHH!! Fuck! I feel so shit.”

Eddie sniffled soupily and then coughed some more into his blanket.

Gareth had a grimace plastered on his face, “That cough does not sound fun bro. Definitely think we should cancel tonight.”

Jeff and Tim nodded, also taken aback by how much sicker the guitarist seemed to have gotten overnight.

“I’b sorry. Really did’t wadda cancel but I’ve got n’do voice and n’do energy to play.”

“Don’t sweat it dude, we just want you to feel better.” Tim added.

“I’ll text Zoey.” Steve said, setting down the spoon he was stirring the soup with, “I think you need to see another doctor, Eds.”

“We’ll be in San Francisco really soon. You can eat your soup and get dressed. We’ll swing by an urgent care or something.”

Eddie nodded and sulked back off to the bedroom, Steve following behind with Eddie’s bowl of soup in one hand and his phone in the other, sending a message to Zoey.

---

Less than an hour later, Steve and Eddie were at an urgent care clinic. Steve was sitting in the waiting room in his tee and bomber jacket, Eddie in sweats leaning up against him with a mask on.

“For Mr.Munson?” A young nurse poked her head out of the previously closed door.

Steve helped Eddie up and they followed her back. She took Eddie’s weight and then had him sit in a chair.

“Can you take one arm out of your jacket?” She asked.

Eddie pulled his right arm out and slipped it under the torso part of the hoodie. She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm, clipping the pulse monitor to his left forefinger.

“Open up for me please.”

Eddie opened, lifting his tongue as she slid the plastic covered tube into his mouth. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall while he waited.

There was a beep and she slid the thermometer out. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a fever, Mr.Munson. This is reading at 101.7”.

Steve frowned as the girl took off the monitor and blood pressure cuff. Eddie put his jacket back on normally and followed her back into an exam room. Steve sat down in one of the chairs in the corner, while Eddie sat on the bed.

“Tell me a little more about what brings you in today.” The girl asked, preparing to type into her computer.

“Ummb… I’ve been sick for like a week now? I lost m’by voice, can’t stop coughing, still kind of sdeezy.”

The girl tapped away at the keyboard. “Any chest pain or shortness of breath?”

“N’do pain, just tight sometimes.”

The girl nodded, “Okay, I’ll let the doctor know and she’ll be in to see you shortly.”

Steve smiled at her and nodded as she left the exam room, closing the door softly behind her. Eddie lay back, resting on the bed, the thin paper crinkling underneath him.

“How you feeling Ed’s?”

“Like shit Steve.”

A few minutes later there was a gentle knock on the door before a tall brunette woman walked in, her hair in a high ponytail.

“Hi, Eddie was it? Nice to meet you. I hear you’re feeling pretty crummy?”

Eddie sat up and nodded, “Yeah. Hoping you can fix me up good.”

“Would you mind taking off your sweatshirt for a moment? I want to listen to your lungs.”

Eddie nodded and pulled off his sweatshirt, shivering slightly as the air hit him. The doctor slipped the earpieces in and placed the main part on his back, over his shirt.

“Deep breaths for me Eddie.”

Eddie nodded, breathing in and out. On the third breath in, it snagged in his throat and he pitched forward coughing wetly into his mask.

After he’d stopped coughing, she took the earpieces out and dangled the stethoscope around her neck.

“So this is sounding to me like you might’ve developed a chest infection like bronchitis. I can give you some meds that might help you feel better, but ultimately it’s lots of rest, water, and tea.”

Eddie groaned and sniffled to himself, “Thank you.”

The woman nodded after washing her hands, heading out the exam room door. “Good luck with the rest of your tour, Eddie.” She smiled at him as she left.

“Oh my god she’s a fan.” Steve laughed.

“So that’s why she took such good care of m’be.” Eddie joked.

The girl from before came back in, “Mr.Munson? Your script is ready up front and you’re free to go. Have a nice day!”

Eddie hopped down from the table, Steve wrapping his arm tightly around the older man. “Let’s get you your meds and get you back into bed, hmm?”

---

Back on the tour bus, Eddie was laying down, but still propped up with a few pillows in bed. His mind was foggy with fever, but he managed to post to Twitter:

San Francisco, I’m so sorry we had to cancel the show tonight. I’ve been sick as fuck for over a week now and it turned into a gnarly chest infection. Anyone who was at the meet and greets can DM me if you get sick. I’ll send you something. Stay metal (and healthy) 🤘🏻

Steve pushed the door open with his foot, walking in with another box of tissues and a steaming mug.

“Is that for me?” Eddie asked with his big brown eyes.

“Of course it is silly. Hot lemonade with honey.” Steve set down the tissues on the bed next to Eddie and handed over the mug.

Eddie held the ceramic with two hands, trying to catch the escaping heat. He coughed again and took a sip.

“This is so good Stevie, thank you.”

“Of course. Lots more where that came from! Glad you like it.”

“You’re so n’dice for taki’g care of m’be.” Eddie looked up at Steve smiling. Then the corner of his mouth turned into a smirk, “It’s almost like you like m’be when I’b weak.”

Steve flushed bright red, knowing that this was a conversation for another day.

“You’re so stupid.” He laughed it off, “Drink your lemonade!”

---

October 21st

It had been a good several days since Corroded Coffin’s first cancelled show. Now that he was feeling better, he was much more present in the group chat.

Robin (2:28pm)

“Corroded Coffin Cancels First Show - Frontman Eddie Munson Down with Chest Infection”

Holy shit dude are you okay?

Eddie (2:30)

Thanks for the headline Birdie 🙄 Yeah I’m feeling much better since taking my meds. A little congested still but there’s no more green stuff coming out of me…

Nancy (2:33)

TMI EDDIE!!

Steve (2:35)

Don’t tell the girls that dude, gross.

Eddie (2:37)

She asked!!! This is a calculated attack. 😤

Steve (2:38)

Anyways, we’re in Seattle today. Gonna go for an early dinner at the Space Needle before the show tonight!

Robin (2:40pm)

I’m jealous! 😫 I’ve never left this stupid town. Send pics?

Eddie (2:45)

Next tour - Robin opens for us. Done deal.

Robin (2:48)

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Munson.

Eddie (2:50)

Oh I have every intention of keeping this promise. ;)

Steve (2:52)

We have to get ready for dinner but ttyl

Nancy (2:55)

Ok! Glad you’re feeling better Eddie!!

Eddie (2:57)

Me too! All thanks to Stevie. FaceTime you guys tomorrow??

Robin (2:58)

YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As excited as he was for the likely potential of a second tour, including even more of his friends this time, he couldn’t help but cringe just a little at the thought of getting sick that bad again on the next tour.

Next time, he thought, he would pregame with lots of Vitamin C, rest more, and definitely not let fans touch his face anymore.

He set his phone aside and smiled to himself. Now that he was back to his normal self, he was ready to rock the rest of the North American Tour. Corroded Coffin was becoming big and this was only the beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Thank you for reading! Please enjoy these extra visuals:

#s/tranger t/hings #e/ddie m/unson #s/teve h/arrington #co/rroded co/ffin #rockstar au #rockstar!eddie #kb writes #snzblr #steddiesnz #snz kink #illness #coldfucker #fevers

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leafs-lover · 2 years

Text

Too Far Gone - Part Forty Seven

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Eating of raw cookie dough (don’t come at me, I did it as a kid and turned out fine) and some Christmas fluff. Mentions of drinking and maybe a swear word?

Word Count: 12000

Over the last few years Christmas started to become less important to Auston. Not the concept of spending time with people you love – but the actual day, the traditions. With his family in Arizona, and their celebration occurring around his schedule and sometimes weeks later, it didn’t hold the same value as it once did.

Getting the boxes out of storage, decorating the condo, decorating a tree, baking cookies and building a pre-made gingerbread house that would never be eaten, it didn’t really interest him because he knew afterwards there’d be bowls and mixers to wash and decorations shove back into boxes and put back into storage. It never seemed to be worth the work.

Then came Taylour.

He loves Christmas, its arguable his favourite time of the year, but it is to most three-year-olds. Every day after his birthday party, all Taylour could talk about was Christmas, and Santa, and snow, and puppies. He could always talk about puppies. After the first snowfall he dragged Auston outside to ‘make a snowman’ even though there was less than two inches of slush on the ground. There was no way Auston could say no, his beady brown eyes were reason enough, but it was the joy in his voice when the snow first started to fall that lead them to get bundled up. For his next visit Auston pulled a few decorations from storage, a couple nutcrackers, stockings and Christmas pillows and watched Taylour’s entire face light up.

Taylour’s excitement was the Christmas magic Auston thought he’d lost.

Apart from the friends and family skate, there was very little time where the three of them could partake in Christmas activities as a family. Auston was on the road a fair bit and had multiple charity events with MLSE – visits to Sick Kids Hospital and other organizations. Tia was busy wrapping up the semester, working at the store and trying to find time to work on her own designs. It baffled Auston how she managed to do it all. He didn’t know how she found time in Zurich and that was before an energetic three-year old was needing to show her something every five seconds.

A part of him worried that she once again was burying herself in work, creating a distraction from the outside world, but unlike last time there's no indication she was stressed or overworked. And Auston looked for it when he was with her, listened for it when on FaceTime, and read then re-read every text for any sort of hint that she was drowning. He found nothing that would explain why the hairs on the back of his neck were tingling.

He isn’t convinced.

Something is on her mind and Auston is going to find out what. With Celeste’s store and the NHL shutdown for a few days, Tia and Taylour are coming to his condo to spend the holidays together, and with almost three days together Auston will find out what is going on.

After a wild and high scoring 2pm game Auston drove over to Tia’s where a very excited Taylour was waiting at the door. He had on reindeer antlers and a Christmas sweater, and was bouncing off the walls, telling him how in two sleeps Santa was coming. He already told him when the FaceTimed that morning, and Tia sent him a snapchat of Taylour reciting those words, but he had to tell him in person too.

The drive was slow. Torontonians were driving home from last minute shopping, others headed out of town for the holidays The fan blows warm air across their faces, Christmas music plays softly over the speakers and a thin layer of snow has sprinkled the roads only adding to the brake lights, but they didn’t mind. Taylour was in the back seat rambling on and on about Santa and the letter he wrote, the cookies they had yet to bake and what he was going to leave out for the reindeer - because as Auston had learned, they ‘get tired too.’

The second Auston’s door opened Taylour was dragging Tia into the living room with her boots still on. He walks by Santa’s village on the table, the lights and stockings that hang from the fireplace, the large nutcracker and snowman Auston has tucked in the corner and the various other decorations that scatter the condo because he has one thing in mind. The tree.

She has seen over FaceTime four times, seen the countless pictures Taylour made Auston take, hung the picture he drew of it on her fridge, but he still has to show her every single ornament in person.

“Look Mommy, look!”

He points to a spot higher than his little body can reach. Instantly knowing what he is trying to show her, Tia picks him up and sets him on her hip. Letting the lights glisten off his soft brown eyes, Tia smiles, and pulls the plastic ornament off the tree.

“Is this Marshall?” she gasps.

“Yeah,” he giggles, “he is Rudolph.” He references the reindeer antlers that have replaced the usual fireman’s hat.

“What else do you and Daddy have on here?” She returns Marshall to the branch and starts slowly walking around the tree. “The Grinch?” She fakes a gasp and turns towards Taylour with a gaping jaw.

“The Gwinch is Daddy’s favourite,” he explains to Tia as if she didn’t already know.

“Yes, it is,” Tia nods.

“SpongeBob!” Taylour points to a yellow figurine wearing a Santa hat with a candy cane in his hands. “SpongeBob is daddies favourite!”

“Daddy has a lot of favourites,” Tia grins.

“Mhm.” He nods, as his eyes begin to wander, further scouring the tree for the next ornament. “Look Mommy, look!”

Tia and Taylour continue to circle the tree, pulling off ornament after ornament, the Paw Patrol ball, a Toronto Maple Leafs ball, even the Frosty the Snowman he made in daycare – almost identical to the one he made for Tia. The construction paper top hat is mishappen and about twice as long as it should be, the eyes are crooked, and instead of being white there is a colourful crayon mess covering the body. The first of what will hopefully be many homemade decorations on their trees.

“Look!” His joyful voice radiates, a large, curved grin presses to his lips as he points to the ornament. “Santa!”

Auston has the presents and stocking stuffers tucked away in his closet and Tia’s bag is tucked inside the door to his third bedroom - the bedroom he recently furnished specifically for Tia and her short visit, solely because he wants her to be comfortable.

A queen-sized bed is centered along one wall with a simple cream coloured headboard, on the adjacent wall hangs a gold circular mirror over a small dresser. He even ventured to Winners and asked for help getting throw pillows and blankets because he knew it was the kind of thing she’d like. Only problem is he had no idea what to do with them, how to make them look like as though they are meant to be there. He spent way to long looking at pictures online, trying to get them to look just right, and the result is something that looks like Taylour did – which is what he will tell her if asked.

Once back in the living room he see’s Tia, still holding Taylour as they investigate the tree. She doesn’t notice him at first, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest silently watching ,just kind of staring as the lights sparkle off their faces. Tia continues to look at Taylour, smiling as he spoke with such enthusiasm about everything on the tree, then her gaze eventually fell on Auston.

She had a peculiar look at first, noticing the way he was carefully watching them, taking in every detail. He didn’t even know he was doing it at first, something about them and the warm glow of the twinkling lights captivated him. It wasn’t until he saw her grin, and warm milk chocolate eyes beam back at him did a faint blush begin to creep up over his cheeks. They hold the others gaze for a second, and as a smile begins to appear on his lips as well Taylour chatters about pin her arms. Tia almost wishes Auston would have said something when he had the chance, before the rare moment of vulnerability shattered around them.

“You want to make a fort?” Tia swallows the dryness in her throat and forces her gaze to Taylour while simultaneously burying whatever she had been feeling.

“And watch Frosty!” He enthusiastically tells them.

After returning from a road trip Auston went to get Taylour a drink and realized he had nothing in his fridge. He had butter, milk (which was a day from expiring), eggs, condiments and salad dressing, but he had no fruit, vegetables, yogurt, cheese strings – nothing that would be suitable for Taylour’s snacks. Instead of bundling his son up to go to the grocery store he messaged Fred to watch him while he shopped. When he returned home an hour later every chair was in the living room – some flipped upside down - blankets were draped over them, pillows and couch cushions on the floor and Taylour’s laugh trickling out from the mess. Since then, making forts has been his new favourite activity.

“Okay,” she continues to speak softly, unable to use the full weight of her voice. “Go help Daddy get some blankets.”

Auston hoped Christmas Eve would be simple. They were baking cookies. That’s it, it’s all they had to do. Beyond that he saw them drinking hot chocolate, watching Paw Patrol Christmas specials for the 50th time and listening to Taylour’s excitedly ramble about Santa. It was supposed to be an easy and relaxing day – or as relaxing Christmas Eve with a three-year old can be. Auston set the bar too high.

Taylour came barreling in at 5:59 shrieking that it was time to make cookies. How Taylour was energized and ready to go after staying up until almost 9:45 making a fort that consumed Auston’s entire living room is a shock in itself, but there he is, excitedly jumping on the bed.

“Daddy, get up!” Taylour grabs his hand and tries free him from the tangled mess of sheets. Auston keeps his eyes closed and provides no help, his arm becoming dead weight. Taylour tugs harder and harder until he loses his footing and lands on the mattress. “Daddy it’s cookie time!” he whines.

“It’s still dark out,” Auston mumbles through a groggy haze. “That means it’s still sleep time.”

“Noooo,” Taylour whines, louder than before. “Mommy said you have to get up and make coffee before we do the cookies,” Taylour huffs.

Popping one eye open, Auston reaches out and pulls him tight to his chest. “Oh, she did?” He chuckles at the realization Tia sent Taylour to him because she craved more sleep.

“Yeeees,” he drags out his response, the whine so loud Auston hears Tia chuckle in response from her room. “Please get up so we can make cookies,” his arms smack against the bed in defeat while he releases a heavy huff.

After a sigh, Auston forces both eyes open. The soft glow from the hallway light hits Taylour’s face and there is a mixture of eagerness and disappointment on his face. “Alright, but we have to have breakfast before making cookies.”

“Okay Daddy!” His head cranes towards Auston, a large grin covering his face and he nods.

Auston releases Taylour and sits up on the side of the bed. When he stretches out his arms, Taylour jumps onto his back and wrap his arms around his neck. Auston easily grabs his two hands with one of his and puts the other under one of his thigh for support and hoists him on his back.

“Can you do me a favour?” Auston softly asks Taylour and instantly feels him nod.

“Tell Mommy it’s time for breakfast and she needs to get up .” Auston’s knees crack as he bends down in the doorway to set Taylour on his feet. “She won’t be mad if you do it.”

Before turning the coffee grinder on, Auston heard Taylour repeating everything to Tia, telling her Daddy said to get up for breakfast and that they needed breakfast before making the cookies.

With the hazelnut coffee slowly wafting into the air, Auston had breakfast well under way when Tia finally made her appearance. Sleep was in the cracks of her eyes, dark and heavy bags underneath and her hair was thrown into a very messy bun with a few fallen strands framing her face. She glared slightly towards Auston and shook her head, but the sternness soon fell and they were both smiling at one another.

With the dishes from breakfast stacked in a pile on the counter, a task for later because Taylour could not wait, Tia begins opening the fridge and pantry for the ingredients required to make the sugar cookies.

“What are you two doing?” Tia asks, having heard soft whispers and giggling for the last ten seconds.

Not wanting to cook two types from scratch, she tasked Auston with getting the Pilsbury chocolate chip cookies from the tube and onto the cookie sheet. It should have been a simple task, but she knew they would find a way to get into trouble, they always do. Taylour was constantly coming home with jokes or pranks to show Tia, something either Auston or one of his teammates had taught him. Baking cookies proved to be no different.

Taylour’s tiny legs are dangling over the island, Auston has a look on his face, the same one she saw countless times in Zurich. The one he’d give her right before doing something he knows he shouldn’t.

“Nothing,” Auston smirks, reaching into the tube of Pilsbury cookie dough he pulls a piece out and hold it up for Taylour, which he is quick to accept.

“You’re eating all the cookies,” Tia teasingly scolds them and shakes her head watching Taylour reach in for another handful.

“You’re making two types of cookies, I think we can eat a couple now.” Auston explains with a shrug. Tia shakes her head and let’s go of a soft laugh when Taylour shoves a chunk overflowing with chocolate chips between Auston’s lips. She should have known not to leave him in charge.

Fifteen minutes later (and only after Tia took control) the chocolate chip cookies were in the oven. Auston set a timer and Taylour made his way to the other side of the island where Tia was about to begin the sugar cookie recipe.

“No Mommy, I do,” Taylour promptly tells her when she tries to measure the flour.

“You want to do it?”

“Yes!” He nods and reaches out for the flour.

“How about Mommy helps you?” Auston quickly speaks up, remembering the mess every time he has tried to “help” in the past.

“No Daddy, I big, I do it,” he explains to them.

Taylour reaches into the bag and finds the scoop and begins filling the measuring cup. Following every scoop, the pile of flour on the counter grows larger and larger and by the time it’s full Auston is convinced there is more on the marble than in the measuring cup.

“Okay, put it in the bowl now,” Tia directs him, nudging it closer in hopes of preventing some spillage.

It doesn’t.

There is more on the counter and his thighs than in the bowl, a large plume billowing out afterwards. It’s a mess, his entire kitchen is a mess, with batter behind his ears and on his cheek, Taylour too is a mess.

“This one,” Taylour holds up the Santa head cookie cutter. All he wants to make is Santa cookies, has no interest in the ornaments, the tree or bell shapes, he only wants Santa.

“Another Santa?” Auston chuckles and grabs a different cookie cutter. “What about the elf?”

“No Daddy,” he adamantly shakes his head, “this one!”

Bringing the cutter over to the dough Taylour presses it down softly, but not hard enough to fully break through the dough. Auston brings his hand over and places it on top and pushes down until it touches the counter, then begins shedding the excess.

Using a spatula to peel it from the counter, Auston sets the cookie on the baking sheet then turns to Taylour, “I don’t think we can make anymore, not enough dough left.”

“Oh no,” he pouts. Not wanting it to be over, he looks to small pieces of cuttings left behind and sighs.

“It’s okay,” Auston rolls the batter into a tiny ball and holds his hand out for Taylour, “just means you can eat it.” Beaming widely, his tiny hand reaches out and accepts the dough and shoves it all in his mouth at once. “That good?” Auston queries?

“Mhm.” Taylour grins with a large nod.

Auston caught Tia shaking her head from the corner of his eye, but he just leaned in and kissed Taylour’s cheek.

“We decorate them now Mommy?” Taylour scratches at a few small pieces of dough that are stuck on the counter. He suggested she make extra for this exact reason.

“No, they have to finish cooking and then cool down before we can decorate them,” she explains while rubbing a dampened cloth along his face.

“Oh. Okay. We play now?”

“Mommy has to clean up,” she tells him. “But Daddy can.”

“Okay,” he nods.

“T, it’s my –“

“It’s fine, go play with him.”

It’s not that Tia would rather clean than play with Taylour, or that she is worried about dishes not being cleans properly or put in their correct location, it’s not even her kitchen. She has a pie to make. She can’t make an apple pie when the kitchen looks this way.

Full of sugar and dough and covered in even more, Auston scooped Taylour up and took him to his bedroom to change out of his flour-soaked clothes while Tia began to clean. Some of the dishes were placed in the dishwasher, but anything she was going to need Tia set out to hand wash. She had barely begun when the sounds of ministicks clattering and little feet scurrying against the wood was heard.

It was distracting.

Not just Auston’s booming growls and Taylour’s shrieks as their ministick game turned into more of a wrestling match than anything else, but just watching what was unfolding. In Zurich, Tia pictured days spent like this (obviously in the future) and once Taylour was born she found herself wishing for this exact thing. And now she has it. Her boys, loud and playful, terrorizing the house with the same devious grins on their faces. It was what eighteen-year-old her used to imagine, and twenty-two-year-old her finally has it. Well almost.

“What?” Auston turns to her with Taylour thrown over his shoulder as he prepares to body slam him against the couch.

“Uhm,” she shakes her head free of the thoughts, and speaks through a cracking voice. “Where are the apples?”

“Apples?” He repeats. That wasn’t the only thought she had.

“Yes, for the pie.”

“Oh, that’s covered.” Tickling Taylour’s sides, he elicits a large screech while flipping him onto the couch.

“Again Daddy!” He hurls himself into Auston’s waiting arms.

“Again?” He pretends to act shocked. Taylour would let Auston body slam him into the couch all day if it was an option.

“What do you mean it’s covered?” Tia finally has some strength in her words.

“It’s covered.” He reiterates and slams Taylour against the couch and leans down and blows a raspberry in the area where his shirt rode up.

“Aus –“

“You don’t have to worry about it.” He tells her and resumes tickling Taylour.

If Tia has learned anything through years of dating but also being a mother, is that when a boy tells you not to worry about it, it means the opposite.

“Auston. Taylour. Matthews.” Tia emphasizes every syllable and watches both of their heads whip in her direction with matching expressions – worry. Taylour for his part doesn’t know that his name is Auston’s middle name, and thinks he is in trouble, but Auston knows she means business. Never has she full named him, in fact most of the time she calls him Aus, dropping the second syllable from his name.

“Be right back,” Auston tells Taylour and saunters into to the kitchen.

“I don’t like it when you full name me,” he mumbles, almost to himself.

“Don’t give me a reason to then,” she retorts, still in her stern motherly tone.

With sunken eyes, Auston sighs and opens the freezer and pulls out a box. Store bought. She should have known.

“Auston,” Tia groans and lets her arms fall to her sides. “We are not bringing a generic, grocery store brand apple pie. If you went to a bakery or a farm and bought a fresh one, maybe, maybe we could bring that, but we are not showing up with that.”

“We can bring some cookies if you want to do homemade,” Auston softly tells her. “I just thought this would be easier and that you wouldn’t spend Christmas Eve making a pie.”

“I appreciate the thought,” she exhales, “but I’m not showing up tomorrow with this.”

“Tys and Vic won’t care,” he counters.

While it’s true, Tia is anxious about spending Christmas with one of Auston’s teammates and his wife - especially given her limited interactions with the WAG’s haven’t always gone well – her aversion to a storebought pie has little to do with making a good impression and more to do with it being a courtesy. The Barrie’s invited them over and are cooking an elaborate and time-consuming dinner with multiple sides, the least they can do is make a homemade dessert. If they went over to Becks or Abby’s for dinner Tia would have made a pie from scratch, this is no different.

“Can we just buy a pie dish and put this in it?” Auston protests, the look on Tia’s face being answer enough.

The store was packed.

Everyone was in a rush ,grumpy and bitter over the lines were long and large crowds. Tia knew it would be like this, which is why she sent Auston a list days ago to avoid this.

It’s barely 11am and she is ready to be home, have a shower and snuggle in back in her Christmas pyjamas, but alas, she only had the ingredients bought. And if she thought the grocery store was bad, walking into Stokes to buy a deep pie dish and hand mixer on Christmas Eve made her question every decision she has ever made. And she still needs to go to the liquor store.

Auston thought Taylour might nap once Tia left. Even though naps were becoming more infrequent, he hadn’t slept very long the night before and had an eventful morning. The recipe for a nap, or so he thought.

Wearing only his underwear, socks and a Santa hat, Taylour ran around the condo. He had his toy plane in hand and pretended to make it fly as he jumped from couch to couch. There was an impromptu dance show (which reminded Auston more of Mitch on the dancefloor than anything else), and countless laps around the apartment. Auston was dizzy watching him but was confident something would tire him out, but he never seemed to find his off switch.

Drained, and in need of a few minutes of quiet, Auston put on Paw Patrol’s Christmas special and hoped for the best.

Taylour must have been quiet, because Auston fell asleep. He didn’t mean to. He knew Taylour was running hot with sugar and the last time he left him unattended a picture was drawn on a door. He wasn’t even comfortable on the couch. His arms were crossed over his chest, and neck awkwardly kinked into the corner, a plastic toy is jabbing into his spine, but he fell asleep.

“Daddy!” Taylour lets out a loud shriek. Auston’s eyes bolt open and he dashes off the couch, full of terror. “Daddy help!”

In under five strides Auston finds Taylour. His heart is pounding heavily, expecting to find blood, broken bones or some injury to his son, instead he is sitting on the kitchen island. His feet are swinging over the ledge and he has crumbs on his shirt and chocolate smeared around his lips, all evidence of the trouble he has found himself in. His mom always told him a quiet toddler is a dangerous toddler.

“Daddy, I’m stuck!”

“What are you doing?” He asks, noting the chair that’s tipped on its side – likely the method Taylour used to get on the island.

“Daddy I’m stuck!” Taylour repeats.

Walking over to him, Auston sets his hands on either side of his legs and peers down at him. “I see that,” he hides the smirk that is fighting it’s way through. “Why are you on the counter?”

Taylour huffs in response, “I wanted a cookie.”

“What did I say?” Auston quirks an eyebrow.

“No cookies until lunch,” he mumbles, refusing to make eye contact. “But daddy I wanted one now.”

“But I said you had to wait,” Auston explains to him with a firm tone. Turning on the sink he reaches for a cloth and wets it, then brings it up to Taylour’s face to wipe away the evidence. “Now you don’t get any cookies after lunch.”

“Noooo!” he whines.

Pursing his lips, he huffs while moisture floods his eyes. The pout on his face remains and his lower lip trembles making Auston sigh. He hates seeing Taylour cry, and regardless of fake or real tears, it will always be his soft spot as a dad.

“Alright,” Auston sighs. “You can have cookies with your lunch, but you can’t tell your mom about this.”

Poking his stomach slightly with a grin, Taylour chuckles whilst eagerly nodding. “Deal daddy!”

“Okay.” Helping Taylour down Auston turns around and sees Tia, in the doorway with her arms crossed just shaking her head at him.

“Mommy!” Taylour squeals. Running over to her, Tia bends down and opens her arms for a much-needed hug. She quirks and eyebrow to Auston while pressing a kiss to Taylour’s cheek.

“Hi baby, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he beams. “Daddy gave me a cookie.”

“Wh- You took a cookie,” she hears Auston mutter bitterly.

“Was it good?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” She releases him from the hug. “I’m going to make the pie then we can decorate the cookies.”

“Okay Mommy!”

When Taylour prances off to the living room, Tia turns to Auston and just shakes her head. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks, flames having erupted on his cheeks.

“All of it,” she grins, with her eyes narrowed. “So, how many things do you two hide from me?”

“Nothing,” he quickly replies, cleaning the crumbs from his counter. “How can I when he snitches two seconds later?”

Taylour occupied himself with his toys while various Christmas specials filled the room as background noise. Auston found himself peeling and slicing apples, then getting yelled at for making them too big or too small. He tried to remind Tia that this was his favourite pie and of the two of them he would know more about what was required, and she constantly reminded him that she was the one making the dessert and he should listen to her.

“You ready?” After dinner Auston emerges with Taylour, both of them in warm track pants and matching hoodies, holding a pair out for Tia.

“For what?” Tia quirks an eyebrow but continues wiping the island of the mess generated from cookie decorating.

While her station was kept relatively tidy, the same cannot be said for Taylour and Auston. Tubes of green, blue, black and red icing were left scattered around the island, sprinkles were caked to the counter thanks to the globs of icing that have oozed out. Both of them smeared the icing with their fingers leaving fingerprints and smudge marks across the counter. She knew decorating would be messy, she just didn’t anticipate the mess being equivalent to the baking process.

“The Christmas lights mommy!” Taylour enthuses, bouncing on his heels.

One of Tia’s favourite Christmas traditions is looking at Christmas lights on Christmas Eve. It can’t be days or weeks in advance, it has to be on Christmas Eve.

It was something Kylie made Paul do, and he couldn’t say no to an eight-month pregnant woman. When Tia’s first Christmas rolled around, she was teething and incredibly fussy, Paul had tried just about everything when he buckled her into her car seat and placed a warm blanket over her. By the time they drove past the second house she had stopped crying and by the fourth he was smiling, completely in awe of the lights.

Going forward Paul took her out every Christmas Eve to look at lights. One year they had moved less than a week prior and were still living out of boxes. None of their decorations had arrived, they didn’t have stockings or a tree but she and Paul still went out to look at the lights.

It was no surprise on Taylour’s first Christmas when she could barely afford food let alone decorations and gifts that she bundled him up in a snowsuit and tucked multiple blankets in around him then ventured to a few areas she had seen lights on while travelling to work or school. They weren’t the big extravagant houses her and Paul would scout, more so the neighbourhoods that were safe to venture into at night but also easily accessible from a bus stop. It wasn’t quite the same experience because Taylour slept the entire time and some houses were very basic with just one or two strands, others didn’t even have any hung at all, but it brought her to ease. For that hour Tia forgot about the building stress, she forgot that Auston didn’t know of his son and wasn’t sharing in that experience. For that hour every worry she had faded away, and she knew her and Taylour were going to be okay.

“The Christmas lights?” A smile starts to grow on her face and she sets the cloth in the sink.

It wasn’t an easy task finding the perfect place to visit. There are lights at the Christmas Market, Casa Loma, Nathan Phillips Square and countless other locations around the city, but her tradition was looking at houses and Auston was committed to keeping that tradition. Any time he googled it the results only came back with events or individual houses not entire neighbourhoods. He didn’t want to risk going to one of the houses only for them to be the anomaly, the only decorated house around. He resorted to asking guys on the team before finally settling on Hyde Park.

“Daddy says there are lots of lights, and some have snowmen and reindeer!”

“Snowmen and reindeer?” She tries to match his enthusiasm.

“Yes Mommy. Go get dressed so we can go,” he pushes on her thigh, trying to direct her down the hall.

Tia collects the handful of clothes from Auston and ventures down the hall to put on his clothes. They were the same pair he leant her when they watched Legally Blonde, the same pair she “borrowed” countless times during the weeks he spent at her house. The same pair that she hasn’t seen him wear since she first did, as if they have been reserved for her.

“Daddy says we’re getting hot chocolate,” Taylour exclaims, tightly grasping her hand in the elevator.

“Yum!” she gives his hand a squeeze. “I love hot chocolate.”

“Me too! I want the candy cane one Daddy!” Taylour turns his gaze to address him.

“Candy Cane?” Tia turns to Auston and teases. “What are you turning my son into?”

“One with taste,” Auston retorts as the door dings open.

With a not-so-quick stop to Starbucks, the three of them were entering Hyde Park, full of lavish, expensive homes, one of which belonging to John Tavares – the one who recommended this location. Following the parade of brake lights, Auston stops the car and finally cracks the lid of Taylour’s now cool drink then passes it back to him.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he smiles.

“You’re welcome, Taylour.” Auston smiles back through the rear view, then glances over the centre console to Tia whose hands are tightly clasped on her lap and eyes locked ahead, waiting as the first house slowly comes into view. “You did a really good job with him.”

“Thanks,” she keeps her eyes but Auston can see the edges of her lips beginning to curl.

The car slowly inches forward while warm air hits her toes and the heated seats warms her entire body. Even though the car is warm, Auston brought a fleece blanket specifically for Tia because she is always cold, and she has it draped over her lower body.

“I don’t know if I say it enough, or at all, it has been wild year,” he pauses and lets out an airy laugh at all they've gone through. He then reaches over and his thumb finds a spot on her wrist. At his soft and gentle graze, her fingers release and instantly lock with his, bringing a warmth to his heart. “There is no one else I’d rather do this with.”

“Same,” she somehow smiles wider, so wide it could hurt. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Wow! Daddy look it’s Olaf!” Pointing out the window, Taylour’s face is brighter than all of the lights around them.

“Yeah, I see,” Auston muses. “And look, he’s with Santa!”

“Woah!” His voice almost drops to a whisper as he becomes too overwhelmed to speak.

“I don’t know,” Auston turns his attention back to Tia, who, like Taylour, is completely encapsulated by the lights, “you did it for two years without me.”

“Because I had to,” Tia quickly informs him. “And it fucking sucked,” she says, not worried about Taylour noticing anything besides the lights. “I have zero desire to do that again.”

Instinctively, Auston squeezes her hand while bringing it up to his lips for a kiss, watching as her head rolls towards him. They don’t say anything, mostly because they both know nothing else needs to be said.

Getting Taylour to bed proved to be a bigger ordeal than Auston imagined. He thought the car ride would have at the very least tired him out, if not put him to sleep, but when parked in the garage Taylour was still rambling about all the lights, the Minions one house had, SpongeBob at another and the movie one home had projected. He was bouncing off the walls.

Tia had him sitting on the vanity while she helped brush his teeth. With his little legs kicking against the door, he was beaming from ear to ear, but the second she helped him onto his feet he took off running. A bolt of blue and black plaid blew by Auston and dodged his attempt to scoop him up as he tore into the toys Auston had put away for the night.

“Taylour,” Auston sighs, watching Taylour hit the buttons on his firetruck, setting off every sound and light imaginable. “It’s time for bed, lets pick out a story.”

“But I see Santa Daddy,” Taylour protests innocently. Pulling the firetruck back, he releases it and watches as it drives forward a few inches crashing into the side of the coffee table. A slew of giggles ensuing.

“Santa can’t come if you’re awake.” Tia explains for the tenth time.

“But I see Santa Mommy. I give him his cookie.”

“No, you have to be asleep or he can’t come. His magic doesn’t work if you’re awake.”

“Fine,” Taylour huffs and drops the toy, the plastic smacking heavily against the wood. Sulking, he takes a few steps and clasps his hand in Auston’s letting him guide him down the hall.

“What story do you want?” Auston asks him as he climbs on the bed, only to be met by a shrug. “This one?” he grabs a book from the nightstand and shows him, earning the same response.

He looks up and finds Tia in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, grinning as if to say ‘this attitude came from you’ but Auston would argue it came from her.

“What about this one?” Tia picks up a Paw Patrol Christmas book, and smirks when Taylour tries to act frustrated but can’t help smile. She hands the book to Auston and climbs onto the one side of the bed while Auston nestles in on the other. By the end of the story Taylour wasn’t asleep, but his eyes were heavy and he was full of yawns. They both placed a kiss on his forehead and left him in the room, hopeful the heaviness would take over.

“You gonna do this, or should I?” He asks of the cookie as soon as they are in the kitchen.

“You can’t, not yet,” she quickly replies, her heartrate beginning to accelerate.

“T, he is basically asleep.” Auston chuckles softly and reaches out for the glass of milk when he hears the slow creak of a door. Taylour’s door. Walking over to the hall he catches Taylour right as he tries to pull his head back in to avoid getting caught. “Taylour?” Auston calls out.

“No,” he giggles. The sound of his feet quickly pattering towards the bed is followed up by the squeak of bed springs.

“I got it,” Auston sighs, and drops his head.

Thirty minutes and two more stories later, Taylour was asleep. Auston finally returned to the living room and found Tia on the couch, watching a Christmas episode of The Office.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” Auston laughs, grabbing himself a well-deserved beer.

“Really?” Tia just laughs and turns the volume down.

“I knew he’d be excited, but that was ridiculous. He tried to get out of bed two more times,” he adds, subtly noticing she changed to her pyjamas but found her way into his closet for another one of his sweaters. “Was it like this last year?”

“He didn’t quite understand the concept of Christmas and Santa,” she tells him, shifting to create some space for him to sit. “When he woke up and saw the presents he was excited though.”

The two of them it on the couch, her feet buried under his thick thighs for warmth and watched two more episodes. Once they are both convinced Taylour was out for the night – significantly later that his usual bedtime they got to work. Auston ate the milk, cookies and carrots, while Tia set up the stockings.

As she made the couple trips to and from the bedroom, she couldn’t help but laugh at the curse words and grumbles coming from Auston as he tried to assemble Taylour’s present from Santa. The Paw Patrol tower.

At almost three feet tall it blinks, has lights, a trap door, a working elevator and zipline, even a button where Ryder will provide missions to be completed. It’s full of tiny pieces of plastic, multiple stickers, not the kind of toy designed for those with thick fingers and waning patience.

“This is stupid,” Auston presses on two pieces trying to force them to go together. “There are a million pieces, how the fuck are we supposed to get this assembled?”

Tia laughs, “we have time. Besides,” she picks up the instructions Auston has yet to open, “I feel like these might help.”

“I need a drink.” Auston pushes off the floor and ventures into the kitchen to make himself a generous rum and eggnog.

“No wonder you can’t figure it out,” Tia laughs and picks up the base of the tower. “You’re supposed to start with this.”

4:38.

Taylour plows through his door shrieking at 4:38. The sun had yet to make its way over the horizon, only darkness was protruding through the windows. But Taylour was up at 4:38.

Auston and Tia said they were going to be the parents who kept Taylour in bed until 6. They were going to set that time now when he was young, as he grew up and learned to tell time he would have to wait in his room until 6am before coming to find them.

No way that was happening today.

“Daddy, we have to go see what Santa brought!” He tugs at his arm, trying to drag him out of bed.

“Taylour,” Auston reaches up and grabs his son and forces him down on the mattress, pining him against his chest in an attempt to drown him in cuddles. “It’s too early, we have to go back to sleep.”

“No daddy,” he adamantly protests, “we get up now.”

Bringing up his hand, Taylour attempts to pry open his eyelids and groans when Auston doesn’t cooperate. “Daddy, puh-lease!”

“Taylour –“

“Thought we agreed on six,” Tia mutters groggily. Lifting up the corner of the duvet she crawls in on the other side of Taylour.

“We did. He did not.” Auston smirks to Tia, his voice heavy with what feels like gravel in his throat.

“Daddy,” he tries to squirm free without success. “We have to see what Santa brought.”

“Taylour,” Tia’s voice is soft and mumbly. “We’re going back to bed.” It’s a hollow attempt. She knows there is no way Taylour is going to sleep. He might lie in bed for ten minutes before anticipation becomes too much and starts protesting further. Even that is a long shot.

“Noooo Mommy,” Taylour’s voice cracks, not an indication of tears but his burning frustration. “No more sleep.”

Auston and Tia share a glance, both of them faintly shaking their heads.

“Alright. You stay here, I’m going to go see if Santa came.” Auston sighs and throws the blanket off the duvet, leaving him in just boxers, evidence he was hot last night.

Tia sighs in response – not loud enough to be heard, then reaches out for Taylour who squeals in excitement. Auston sits on the side of the bed and yawns, then slowly begins to work his way out of the bed in search of some pants.

“Mommy, do you think Santa came?” Taylour’s soft voice provides a distraction from Auston’s boxers that are far too tight.

“I’m sure he did,” Tia forces herself to look away, and finds Taylour – wide eyed and full of joy. “You were pretty good this year.”

“I was very good,” he enthusiastically nods back.

“Do you think I was good?” Tia asks Taylour.

“Yes! You’re a very good Mommy!”

Tia knows that he meant in a ‘you were good and Santa brought you presents’ kind of way, but her heart swells hearing him say that. She immediately wraps her arms around Taylour and pulls him in close for some snuggles and starts peppering his cheeks and forehead with kisses.

“Merry Christmas Taylour,” she says gently.

“Taylour.” Auston pokes his head back in, two mugs of steaming coffee in hand and Taylour’s eye’s immediately dart to the door. “Santa came.” His eyes bug out of his head and he becomes too excited to speak, his jaw dropping in the process. “You want to go see?”

Taylour didn’t need to be asked twice. He threw himself over Tia, his foot digging into her stomach along the way and hurdled himself off the bed and sprints down the hall. Tia barely has a chance to sit up before they hear him squealing “woah!” from down the hall.

“Don’t touch anything,” Auston hollers after him. He holds out a mug for Tia, but they both know they need to get in there before his excitement overpowers reason.

When they both walked into the living room Taylour was sitting on the floor beside the Paw Patrol tower, pressing some of the buttons that set off lights and various sound effects. “He couldn’t wait for us,” Auston laughs.

“He waited ten minutes this morning,” Tia sends him a look, “that’s a lifetime on Christmas morning.”

“What should we start with?” Auston asks, with a hand on his hip he glances around the living room.

Three overflowing stockings are on the couch, 15 to 20 presents are under the tree – mostly for Taylour, and its abundantly clear which presents were wrapped by Auston given the overuse of tape, loose corners and lack of ribbons or bows. But front and centre of it all is the toy they both know Taylour wants most.

“This one,” Taylour points at the tower. “I want to start with this one!”

“How about we start with the stockings?” Tia suggests, knowing there are a few vehicles and figurines inside there that go with the tower.

Taylour huffs and gives the tower one last glance. “Fine.”

Taylour was over the moon excited about every present. He thought it was the greatest thing ever until the next one came alone. He tore into them all with the same enthusiasm and joy. If it was a toy, he wanted it out of the box and batteries in right away, if it was a book or puzzle, he gave it a once over and set it down on the floor, and when it was clothes, he tossed it aside without a second thought.

The thing was most of his gifts were books, puzzles or clothes. Apart from the new hockey stick, the Paw Patrol accessories that accompanied his tower, and the two Transformer trucks everything else fell into things he needed or would help with his development. There was Play-Doh, crayons, stickers and lots of other art supplies, dozens of books, magnetic numbers and letters, all the things that while bright and exciting weren’t loud toys with flashing lights. He was still thrilled to open them, but once he realized it didn’t fly, drive, go in the bath or explode, he lost interest.

The gifts under the tree slowly began to dwindle until all that remained was Taylour’s gifts to his parents. There wasn’t one to each other because they agreed not to, or rather Tia made Auston agree.

He didn’t like it, in fact he fought her on it more than once. She tried to sell it as “it’s not easy to buy gifts for your ex” but Auston knew that wasn’t the real reason, which is money.

She used the money from her paycheck to help pay for the Paw Patrol tower and accessories. Auston told her not to worry about it, but from the day Tia saw the price tag all she could do was worry about it. She wanted to use her own money to buy the gifts, not the money Auston has been giving her and that gift alone was more than what she planned to spend. Ans that is just the gift from Santa it didn’t include her gifts to him, the stockings, or the gift Taylour had to get for Auston. It was quickly adding up and Tia could see her credit card bill already.

Auston thought it was ridiculous to not give each other gifts, and he fully intended on getting her something anyways. Christmas is about giving and what’s a few hundred dollars when you make almost 12 million? But when he made a not-so-subtle comment about not caring if she got him anything (which is 100% true) it almost brought her to tears. And that’s when Auston realized just how much of a struggle Christmas was on her.

He knew it had been in the past, but Taylour was so young and didn’t understand the concept of Christmas. This year was different. He came home from daycare talking about Santa, he understood that Santa brought good boys and girls presents, and what the implication of getting nothing would be. She never planned on giving Taylour such expensive gifts at Christmas, if Santa only brought books and puzzles, he’d never be the wiser. Then Auston and his eight-figure salary came waltzing into their lives, and while she loves knowing Taylour will grow up with a dad, she hates the pressure it puts on herself.

Auston agreed to not give her a gift, and then agreed to the limit she set on Taylour’s gift to them, solely because he didn’t want to add any additional stress to Tia. But if he had his way there would have been more than one gift under the tree for her.

Tia took Taylour to the mall and they ventured into a few stores, she gave Taylour free reign to pick anything within their budget. Every single thing was carefully selected at the hands of a very eager three-year-old. As Auston pulls every single item out, Taylour is three feet in front of him, explaining every single thing.

“That’s for your stick,” Taylour beams about the hockey tape.

“That’s because you drink Gatorade after hockey,” he tells him.

When Auston isn’t retrieving the items fast enough, Taylour takes matters into his own hands and reaches in with both hands and pulls something out and shoves it in his lap. “It’s for this,” he giggles and runs a hand over Auston’s upper lip.

“My moustache?” Auston grins.

“Mhm. To brush it.”

With a quick nod he reaches back into the bag and pulls out Paw Patrol dress socks and tie, then smiles. “They match Daddy!”

“Look at that, they do match,” Auston smiles back at him.

“Merry Christmas Daddy!” Taylour launches himself into his arms for a big hug.

“Merry Christmas.” He welcomes the embrace and places a kiss to his cheek. “Should we give Mommy her present now?”

“Yes!”

Taylour walks over and grabs the plain green gift bag from under the tree and drags it over to Tia. There are a few sheets of red and white tissue paper shoved messily at the top, which Taylour quickly removes for her, revealing a stunning white cashmere cardigan.

“Because you’re always cold Mommy.” Taylour grins at her and dives back into the bag not giving her the opportunity to process the item, then starts pulling out various brightly coloured bath bombs and bubble bars. “And you like to take baths!”

“I do like to take baths,” she smiles, knowing Taylour picked out every single one. None of them are soft and calming scents like eucalyptus or lilacs, they are vibrant colours, full of glitter and fun shapes like a duck or unicorn. All the things that would capture a three-year-old’s attention in a store.

“Thank you, Taylour,” she softly runs her finger over the cashmere, knowing Auston went over their budge with that alone.

“There’s one more Mommy!” Pulling out a clumsily wrapped box that is overloaded with tape, he hands it to Tia, but starts tugging at the corner to remove the paper for her. Tia lets him open the gift, drawing her gaze over to Auston with a ‘how could you look’ to which he tactfully shrugs away.

When the paper is finally removed there is no indication of what it is, just a plain, brown cardboard box. Tugging off the lid, her breath catches in her throat as she stares down at the Christmas ornament inside.

“Daddy said Rudolph is your favourite.”

Rudolph always was her favourite Christmas movie. Paul used to tell stories of young Tia, shrieking when the Abominable Snowman appeared on the screen and jumping into his lap, letting him keep her safe until he was gone. As she grew up the Abominable Snowman stopped scaring her, but Rudolph remained her favourite, and she would watch it at least six times a year.

Auston knew this. Four years ago, and barely a week into December they had watched it twice. So, when he and his mom were walking the streets of Zurich and he spotted an ornament in a window he didn’t even think twice about buying it.

“It is,” her eyes well up.

Picking it up by the string she holds it out and carefully examines every part of it, it’s identical to the one he gave her four years ago. Instead of it just being Rudolph, it’s Rudolph and his girlfriend Clarice – which Auston told her represented them. The two reindeer are nuzzled in together, their noses almost touching. Flipping it over, she flicks the on switch, letting his nose illuminate back at them.

“Can I put it on the tree?” Taylour beams.

“Of course,” she hands it to him, watching him skip away. Standing on his tippy toes, he reaches as high as he can and finds and empty branch to display it.

By the time they finished Auston’s living room was scattered in wrapping and tissue paper. Tia stumbles around the living room collecting every shard of paper and piece of tape she could find while Auston set out to open every single toy for Taylour, because they all had to be opened. Even the toys that were going to Tia’s apartment had to come out of the packaging.

When Taylour finally had all the figures and cars for his tower out of the packaging he sat on the floor and began pressing the buttons and sending the characters down the zipline, laughing as one would crash into the other.

“Merry Christmas T,” Auston walks up and wraps his arm around his shoulders, pulling her back against his chest while placing a kiss to her temple.

“Where did you get that ornament?” she quietly asks.

“Halmark store in the Eaton –“

“No.” She quickly turns around, eyes brimming with tears while his arms fall to his sides. “It’s not new, it’s the one you gave me four years ago.”

“I –“ he tries to counter.

“It says 2015 on the bottom,” she tells him of the inscription on the bottom in her writing, along with a heart beside. It is THE ornament he gave her in Zurich.

She didn’t even think to grab it when packing for Toronto because it was June and they hadn’t spoken for almost four months. She left it, and for four years it sat in a box collecting dust in the basement. She didn’t even think about it until a couple weeks ago when Auston made a comment after Taylour showed him their tree.

“Where did you get it?” She chokes out.

Auston takes a sharp exhale and chalks his hand through his messy dark brown curls, then brings his gaze up to her. “You wouldn’t let me buy you anything, but I knew how much you loved it. So, I reached out to your dad and he brought it when he visited a few weeks ago.”

“You saw my dad?” Tia almost chokes on the air in her lungs as her eyes shut, no longer willing to let him look into her eyes.

“I…yeah I did.”

“You saw my dad?” she repeats, still processing everything.

It wasn’t the most comfortable experience Auston had recently. He would have rather had lunch with Clarie, Amy, Betty, Corrie, Michelle and every other woman he had slept with over the last three years instead of spending ten minutes awkwardly standing in his doorway with Paul. But he did it for Tia.

She told him of all the struggles throughout the years – from buying a broken tree off Kijiji that had burnt out lights and broken branches, to buying most of Taylour’s presents at thrift stores that often times were missing pieces or didn’t work once batteries were put in. He wouldn’t remember his first Christmas where she could only afford Geoffery, but she would. She would never forget that and all the struggles Christmas seemed to bring.

Auston wanted to remind her of what Christmas could be.

“Yeah.” Auston nods. His arm wraps around her back and she nestles her head against his chest. Like so many times before, they are both brought to ease by the familiarity of the others touch. “He is your dad, Taylour’s grandpa. He may not my favourite person by any means, but I’m not going to be the reason they don’t know each other.”

“Thank you.” Tia sighs softly, listening to the slow, rhythmic beating of his heart. She knows how difficult it must have been for Auston to not only reach out, but to see him, and it makes this gift all the more meaningful. “I’m not ready to introduce them yet.”

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be okay with it.”

“Daddy come play!” Taylour beckons from the living room.

“I have to make breakfast.” Auston puts his chin gently on the top of her head and lets out a simplistic sigh. He always loved how Tia perfectly fit inside his arms, as if she was meant to be there.”

“Daddy, come play with my tower pleeeeease.”

Tia tilts her head and they both share a laugh. “I can make breakfast,” she tells him, earning a soft squeeze from Auston. “But you have to do the dishes.”

“Ugh,” he sighs. “Fine.”

Auston let go of Tia and before he had even taken two steps Taylour was pressing the yellow button, Ryder’s voice echoing “Chickaletta is in trouble” through the living room.

“Oh no!” Taylour picks up Marshall and connects him to zipline and sends him down. “We have to help him, Daddy!”

“To Save Chickaletta!” Auston quickly exclaims, falling onto the floor beside him.

Setting the vehicle in the garage, Auston waits as the tiny dog swings around the tower and lands on the trap door. As Taylour is reaching for the lever to open the door, Auston presses the button and launches the car without him and Chase lands on the ground.

Tia kept getting distracted from the kitchen watching them play. She loved the boyish grins and ridiculous voices Auston made up, the crooked smiles from their son and the never-ending bouts of laughter She loved everything about watching them together.

Tia was about to lose her mind.

She knew about this almost two weeks ago, Christmas dinner with the Barrie’s. Auston asked and explained it would just be the five of them, a small, casual dinner. He mentioned it would be easier to share in a dinner with others than prepare an entire meal themselves, and he was right. Even if they didn’t have turkey, it should be something special to mark the holiday, and Tia really didn’t want to go through all that trouble. It's only two people and one dinner. If she can handle the entire team and significant others at a skate, surely this dinner would be a cake walk.

Obviously, she was wrong, because she has nothing to wear. How this happened is beyond her. She is a fashion major, has her own line that is set to launch in a matter of weeks that packed an excessive amount of clothes given the short trip - a mix of things she has bought and made - not to mention the stunning cardigan Auston bought her. Yet she has nothing to wear.

Every single thing from her bag is on the bed, strewn about as she tried every combination of top and bottom imaginable. She has nothing to wear.

“T,” Auston sighs and walks into her room, trying to ignore the fact that she is still wearing pajama’s.

“I can’t…I’m sorry but I can’t go.”

“T, it’s dinner with my teammate not the Queen of England.” He rolls his eyes and tosses the cashmere sweater her way. “Just put on a shirt.”

“Why would the Queen have dinner with me?” She quietly questions, catching the shirt but making no effort to move.

“I got Taylour dressed, don’t make me dress you too,” he offers, but Tia can hear the playfulness in his words.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Tia snaps back, grinning as pink begins to flush his cheeks.

“If you’re not dressed and at the door in five minutes you’re going in your pyjamas,” Auston tells her, shutting the door a little too forcefully behind him.

“Wow,” Auston thinks out loud when Tia emerges six minutes later – she always one to test him. When Tia stares at him with a slow growing smile his cheeks erupt with flames. “You look pretty, you always look pretty, but you look really pretty,” Auston fumbles over himself.

Her brown hair was blow-dried and left framing her face, the ends is loose curls. Her makeup was basic and effortless, a slight shimmer on the cheekbones when she smiled the only evidence, she had any on. Wearing jeans and a bright cherry red satin tank tucked in, she had the cashmere cardigan thrown overtop. She was absolutely stunning.

“Thanks,” Tia grins sweetly, the glimmer in her eyes the same their first date. “You boys ready?”

“We’re going to see Ralph!” Taylour slips his right foot into the left shoe and tugs at the Velcro then stands up with a proud smile on his face.

Auston could tell she was nervous without even looking.

The entire drive her ankles were crossed to stop her foot from bouncing, but her fingers kept taping against the glass pie dish in her lap. Michael Bublé, Mariah Carey and other Christmas music played quietly over the speaker but it was largely muffled by Taylour’s excited chatter in the backseat.

“It’s gonna be fine T,” Auston leans in tight to her ear while pressing the button in the elevator. “You’re going to be fine,” he tries to settle her anxiously tapping foot. “I promise, Tys and Victoria are nice, you’ll like them.”

“Yeah,” she swallows the lump in her throat. With a faint nod, she turns her head up toward him and tries to smile through her brewing anxiety.

“If I genuinely thought you wouldn’t get along, I wouldn’t have brought you here,” he offers. His right hand finds her back and softly swirls in circles while his left is tightly clasping Taylour’s. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” she nods at him, turning her gaze away as the elevator doors ding.

Auston doesn’t pull his hand back. Partially to guide her in the right direction, but also reassuringly, trying to reiterate that everything will be okay. Victoria and Tyson are two of the most easy-going people he has met, drama rarely accompanies their names.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” Tia thinks to herself as the door flings open.

“Hi,” a brunette with a similar stature to Auston greets them. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” Taylour cheers excitedly.

“Oh, Merry Christmas Taylour.”

He crouches down and welcomes the child’s eager embrace, but it’s short lived, because within a second the sound of nails clicking on the hardwood captures his attention. His posture extends and a wide smile hits his lips.

“Ralph!” He giggles loudly.

“Take your shoes off first!” Auston calls out, but he is already gone, running down the hall. “Sorry.” Auston hangs his coat on the rack. “I’ll be right back.”

Without an introduction Auston is down the hall and around the corner, leaving Tia awkwardly lingering at the door.

“I swear I taught him manners,” she quietly murmurs.

“He’s a kid on Christmas,” Tyson grins. Holding his hand out Tia graciously hands the pie over and begins to shake off her coat. “This looks amazing.”

“Just wait until you taste it,” Auston sneaks back down the hall holding Taylour’s jacket and shoes.

“I don’t know if I can,” Tyson laughs, the cinnamon and apples once again wafting into the air.

“Yeah, not surprising,” Auston teases.

Tyson smirks but shakes his head. “I’m Tyson.”

“Tia,” she sweetly smiles, trying to disguise the panic surrounding her heart.

“Please, come in,” he urges, stepping off to the side. “Contrary to what he may have told you, we’re actually very nice.”

Once again Auston’s hand found her back and he steered her down the hall, not that it was hard for Tia to determine where to go, Taylour’s laughter was indication enough. Tyson was a few steps behind but detoured into the kitchen to set down the pie.

“Thought I heard voices.” A stunning blonde walks into the room, her smile is bright and she has on jeans and a blue knit sweater, tiny snowflakes intermixed in the fabric. When she spots Taylour in an animated match of tug-o-war with Ralph, she grins and turns to them. “You must be Tia.”

“Yes, I am,” she replies.

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Victoria.” Tia reaches her hand out for a shake but is caught off guard when she hugs her instead. “We hug here,” Victoria laughs at her surprise then opens a cupboard and pulls out four wine glasses. “Heard you’re a sauvignon girl.”

“I am.”

“So, you’re a fashion major?” Tyson asks as if Auston hasn’t mentioned it twenty times that season.

“Yeah, at Ryerson,” Tia nods and takes a seat in the couch, Auston landing in the space beside her. “Going into my last semester.”

“You must be so excited to be done. I remember by final year I was just ready for it to be over.” Victoria smiles gently over her glass.

“Yeah, it’s been a journey. A bit longer than I planned,” Tia returns the smile. “But I finally see the finish line.”

Auston hears the certainty in her words and notices she is beginning to relax, which only makes him calmer too.

“And what is waiting at the finish line?” Tyson asks.

The sound of Ralph’s excited bark and Taylour’s soft yet devious giggle catches all their attention for a second, but when they see the two take off running, Taylour in front holding a toy sloth and Ralph behind they all laugh and return back to their conversation.

“I currently work at a store, Celeste’s, it’s a small boutique in town. The owner is a designer I interned with, so I’m hoping to stay on there after and get back behind the scenes to learn more from her.”

“You work, raise a child and go to school. How do you have time for that?”

“She also has her own line,” Auston adds, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Really?” Victoria lights up. “Would I have seen any of your stuff? Is it at Celeste’s?

“You don’t need more clothes,” Tyson teases, taking a slow sip of his rum and eggnog.

“Oh hush,” Victoria playfully smacks his knee.

“Actually, I haven’t launched yet,” she sends Auston a look.

“She is soon though,” Auston interjects and sits upright. “She has five pieces so far, a couple shirts, a blazer and pair of pants, she’s working on a dress but she hasn’t let me see it yet. A bunch of her friends are photographing in them this week and…what?“ Auston trails off when he notices three sets of eyes staring widely at him.

“You’re rambling,” Tia tells him.

“Oh,” he says through an obvious blush but makes no attempt to stop. “I’m just proud of you.” His hand slips to her shoulder and he gives it a soft squeeze, her face turning into a colour that resembles the red of her tank top. “Some people never accomplish what you’ve already managed, and you did it while raising a kid. It’s pretty incredible.”

For a moment it feels as though time stands still. The air that surrounds them is light and warm, full of hope long ago forgotten. Trying to ignore the flutter in her chest and the silent exchange of the Barries, Tia quietly whispers thank you and shakily brings the glass to her lips.

“So, what did Santa bring you Taylour?” Victoria changes the topic.

She knows that there is history between them, more than two people who used to date. Even if Steph hadn’t told her everything, and Fred didn’t tell spill to Tyson after one-to-many whiskeys, Victoria could have picked up on their electricity a mile away

Dinner was a little chaotic. Serving of food, stepping over each other, Taylour accidentally dropping turkey on the floor for Ralph and whining that he didn’t want to eat his cauliflower, wine glasses that never seemed to empty. Once it was over and only a heap of dishes remained, Taylour was once again gone in the living room with Ralph.

“You’re playing hockey with Justin Bieber tomorrow?” Tia’s jaw is stuck open and her eyes dart between both men.

“Yeah, he came to a game and just slid into my DM’s,” Auston tells her.

“Justin Bieber just slid into your DM’s?” She doesn’t mean to sound so shocked but there is no way this is real life.

“Yeah.” Auston shrugs dismissively, as if everything about this is a normal part of life for him. “He even told me he likes my mustache.”

“Oh really?” Victoria snorts over her wine glass.

“Well, someone has too,” Tia teases.

“Taylour does and his approval is all I need,” Auston winks.

“Right.” Tia laughs and stands up, beginning to collect the dishes from the table and carry them to the sink. Victoria is hot on her heels, telling her not to worry, but there was no way she’d leave the mess, she was raised better than that.

Tyson and Auston set out to clean all the food from the plates and put leftovers in the fridge. The smiles and laughter from earlier don’t stop, instead they just migrate toward the sink. Tia doesn’t know why she was nervous about meeting them, in the few short hours together she felt as if she’d known them her whole life.

The four of them got along so well nobody seemed to notice the lack of noise venturing from the living room, neither Taylour nor Ralph making a sound. It wasn’t until Victoria once again had topped up Auston’s glass with wine (Tia had long ago stopped drinking to drive them home) did she notice it, and she all but melted at the sight.

Barely managing to set the bottle down she quietly walks into the living room and snaps a picture of Taylour asleep and cuddling on the couch, tucked under a warm blanket. Ralph who is equally tired from the child’s energy, is curled under his arm, both of them gently snoring.

“Doesn’t this just make you want more kids,” she coo’s, walking over to show everyone the picture.

“One day,” Tyson shakes his head and grins. He’s long known Victoria is the woman he wants kids with, wouldn’t have married her otherwise, but he’d like a bit more time before making the jump from dog-dad to human-dad.

“Yeah,” Tia sighs softly, feeling her heart melt.

“Just so cute,” she turns the phone back towards her for another glance before showing it to Auston.

“Yeah, I don’t want anymore,” Auston states, drawing the eyes of both Tia and Victoria. Tia would never judge someone for not wanting kids, but she and Auston had many conversations about their future. They both saw big families, lots of kids and a dog running around, so to hear him say he only wants one catches her off-guard.

“Really?” Victoria asks, her tone now neutral.

“Yeah,” he replies, offering no explanation. There just isn’t a good way to say I only saw myself having kids with her and not sound helplessly in love. He brought it up to Morgan and he reminded Auston that he could feel that way about someone else one day, and it only made him realize people won’t understand his reasoning. And that’s fine, they don’t have to because they are his reasons.

“So,” Auston clears his throat and straightens his back, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. “I think it’s time for us to head out,” he explains, nodding to Taylour.

With Taylour nestled on his shoulder, Auston found everyone by the door and began to step into his shoes. Tia pushed her arms through the sleeves of her jacket, and held Taylour’s belongings in her hand, no point putting them on just for a car ride.

“Thank you for tonight.” Tia wraps her free arm around Victoria. “It was a really good night.”

“Of course,” Victoria squeezes her back. “You’re welcome here anytime, especially if you bring this cutie.”

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