#and yeah. i DO miss duckie.

[butchdykekondraki]

honestly wild i managed to even have someone as nice as my partner love me in the first place . wild

[lizzerswillpoststuffmethinks]

Spoiler: I didn't go to sleep. But I will shortly after this post

[pika-blur]

maybe i should try playing borderlands online

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iii

now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

December.

The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.

You hate every fucking minute of it.

“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”

You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”

He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –

Never mind.

“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”

“Tommy.”

Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.

His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”

Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.

“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”

Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.

They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.

Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.

A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.

What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.

Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.

She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.

He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.

Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.

Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.

This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.

Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”

Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”

“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”

Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”

Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”

“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”

You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.

Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.

You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.

Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”

You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”

“What’s yours look like?”

“Mine?”

“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”

You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”

He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”

“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”

Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”

“How am I holding up?”

“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.

You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”

Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”

“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.

Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”

You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”

Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”

Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”

He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”

Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”

A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”

Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”

“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.

Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”

Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”

You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”

“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”

The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.

“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.

He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”

You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”

“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”

“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”

You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.

“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”

“The year,” Joel agrees.

“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”

He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”

“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”

He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”

You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”

“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.

The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.

And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.

Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.

But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She’s up to no good.

Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.

She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.

Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.

“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”

The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.

“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”

Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.

You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.

Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.

“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.

“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”

“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”

Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”

Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.

And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –

Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.

Walk me home.

You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.

“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”

Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.

You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.

You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.

A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.

And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.

It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)

No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?

He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.

Are you sure?

I’m sure, kid. Promise.

‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.

He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.

You don’t?

No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?

Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.

But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.

Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.

He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.

And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.

But he didn’t.

Which is fine.

Right?

“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.

Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

“’n whose fault is that?”

You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”

He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”

A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”

“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”

Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”

Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.

You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.

“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”

And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”

“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.

“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.

“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”

Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.

You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”

Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.

The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”

Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.

The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”

And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”

“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.

The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.

None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.

It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.

But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.

Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.

“You know what I’m craving?”

Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”

“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.

He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”

A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”

The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”

You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”

And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.

So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.

It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.

He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.

Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”

“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”

“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”

She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”

“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”

“…Bolognese.”

He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”

You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”

“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”

But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”

Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”

“It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”

Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.

“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”

Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”

He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.

He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?”

Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”

“That a lie?”

“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”

He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”

“Is she mad at us?”

Another second. “Just me. Not you.”

You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”

Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”

“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”

“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”

You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”

Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”

The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.

So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”

Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”

“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”

“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”

“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”

“How about a water?”

“I got some here. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”

You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”

Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.

And I mean anything. OK?

Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–

The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.

Boredom counts as anything, by the way.

And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.

Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.

Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?

You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.

And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.

Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.

Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.

He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.

You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.

You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.

There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.

But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.

Mom.

It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.

Mom. Mom and Dad.

You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.

And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.

“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”

And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.

Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.

A one-night stand. That���s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.

Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.

Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.

You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.

It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.

Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.

Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?

Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.

Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.

Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?

Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.

Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?

The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.

“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.

Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.

Another moan. Louder. Sharper.

Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.

Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.

Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –

Fuck me, Joel, I’m –

Good girl.

– fuck me.

Atta fuckin’ girl.

She’s good but I do it so much better.

We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.

She’s not as good as me.

Again? Again.

She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.

Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.

“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”

Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.

Let go.

Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re just alone in your bedroom.

Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.

Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.

Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.

“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.

“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.

His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.

You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”

He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.

“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”

“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”

“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”

Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”

You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.

You’re trying not to think too much about it.

“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”

Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”

“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.

He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.

“How was dinner?”

“Good,” Joel lies.

“Vanessa okay?”

“Good,” again.

“Sorry.”

Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”

You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”

“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”

“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.

He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.

“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”

“Better.”

You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.

“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”

Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.

Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.

But right then –

There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.

Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.

“Did you – did you feel –?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Uhuh. Was that –?”

“I don’t know. Was it?”

He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.

“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”

“Maybe it was just –”

“Wait! Did you feel that?”

A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.

Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”

“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”

Your head shakes.

When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.

But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”

“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”

You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.

And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.

Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.

“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“So fucking weird,” you tell him.

“Does it hurt?”

“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”

Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”

You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”

“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”

You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.

It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.

At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.

“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”

“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”

“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”

You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”

“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”

“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.

“Me ‘n Vanessa.”

“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”

Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”

Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.

“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”

He sighs.

The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.

“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”

The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.

“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.

“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”

He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.

You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”

Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”

You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”

He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”

“Joel.”

He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.

“You have to go.”

He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”

You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”

Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”

He leaves on Saturday morning.

You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.

“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.

And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”

“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”

He scoffs, glancing across the street.

“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”

“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”

“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”

“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”

“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“Hm. Now go.”

His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.

“Joel –”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t –”

“I know.”

But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.

You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.

A one-night stand.

A one-night stand.

A one-night –

He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”

Your arm loosens, letting him go.

Just – letting him go.

Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.

You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.

A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.

You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.

“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”

Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.

You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.

From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.

You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.

You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.

Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”

The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.

“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”

You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.

Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.

Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.

The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.

You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.

And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.

Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.

We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.

Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.

And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.

Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.

And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.

He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.

You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.

“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”

At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.

The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.

“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”

A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.

“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”

One twenty-three. You go into labor.

[ncis-yp]

Comfy clothes (Gibbs x reader) [FLUFF]

You laid in bed the second you got home from work. Still in your work clothes, your glasses still on. Utterly exhausted from the day. Jethro walked in to see you knocked out and glasses out of place, snoring lightly.

“Get up” Jethro says and you nearly bolted up, reaching for your gun that was clearly not in its holster.

“Fuck” you groan, taking your glasses off and tiredly rubbing your eyes. Jets blurred figure in front of you and your eyes readjusted.

“I’m surprised you remembered to take your gun out” he chuckled. “You were knocked out when I walked in.

“I don’t even remember taking it out” you giggle sleepily. He smiled at you as he began undressing you. “What’re you doing?” You smile.

“Putting you to bed” he replied. “Was it bad today?”

“Got shot at twice, chased a burglar down the street and tackled him, got stuck in an interrogation room for a few hours, and I did training first thing this morning” you reply.

“Nasty bruises” he ran his hand down you ribs.

“Yeah doc said I’ll be alright. Just give it a few weeks to heal. I’ll get wrapped up tomorrow, IF I have pain while I’m breathing”

“And?”

“I definitely do have pain while I’m breathing” you admit.

“Guess that means I gotta be gentle.” He smiles as he looks up at you from his knees. You cock your eyebrow as his pretty blue eyes blink up at you. Standing, he unclips your bra and passes you his USMC hoodie. Your favorite of his hoodies to date.

“Oh no no” you say putting on the hoodie. “I’ll still kick your ass.” You quickly clutched your pillow to your chest as you coughed. Groaning at the discomfort. Jethros face twisted in distaste at the picture of you.

“We’re getting you wrapped now. Get up” he gently helps you up and makes a phone call.

30 minutes later you were sitting on a cold steel table getting your thorax wrapped up tightly. You were wincing in pain.

“Ah not to fret, my dear” Ducky said softly. “Keep this tightly wrapped for a few days and it’ll mend the pain when coughing”

“Thank you Dr. Mallard” you smile softly.

“Ducky, to you. And according to your X-rays, you’re in no harm. Nothing but bruises, but nothing broken” he points to your body on the x ray monitor.

“Thanks Duck” Gibbs says picking you up off the table.

“My pleasure, Jethro, (y/n)” Ducky nodded towards you. You smiled and nodded back. “Though, Jethro, make sure she drinks plenty of water and no… physical activity, if you know what I mean. Heavy breathing will put too much strain on her”

“Heard that Jetty? no physical activity” you say cheekily. “Guess I get to miss work for a few days”

“Yeah, yeah” he kisses you. “Shut up”

“Night Duck” you say as Gibbs carries you out.

You arrived back at home. Your boyfriend made you a comfy spot in bed. Leaving the TV remote by your side, with a few cans of soda and a giant bottle of water. He pulled into a gentle but caring hug.

“Thank you Jet”

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Always There

Note: I know I’ve been MIA for a while but the “writer block” bug bit me good. Anyways, hope I can apologize better with this Gibbs Prompt!

Prompt: Gibbs has a panic attack after hearing old military footage.

"Tony, knock it off, you're gonna make me drop it and then we're all gonna be in trouble," you warned the overly excited agent as he made grandous hand motions near the tray of coffees you had.

"Oh come on, Y/N. I know you're just as excited as me. You're the biggest crime noir movie nerd I know."

You just smiled at his theatrics as the both of you exited the elevators and walked towards the bullpen, where the rest of the team was waiting.

"Tony been talking your ear off about the new Gregory Haines film?" McGee asked as you handed over his coffee with an eyeroll.

"You have no idea. It took him 10 minutes just to order his coffee because he was busy talking about the trailer with the barista."

You handed Bishop her loaded breakfast bagel and latte before finishing with Gibbs' tall black coffee. He was quietly engrossed in whatever case file was on his desk, barley looking up to greet you. It was unusual of him since you two were kind of a thing now. Of course no one knew about it, but for the last 3 months or so, you and Gibbs had been going on late night dates and hanging out at each others houses, occasionally sleeping together.

You blamed his distant behavior on keeping a professional cover with you so as not to arise any suspicion from the team, but kept a reminder in your head to ask him about it later.

"But she just can't help going back to him, totally oblivious to the fact that he's actually the town murderer-

"DiNozzo. Are you able to focus today?" Gibbs inquired in irritation, irrupting Tony's lengthy synopsis to Bishop. His tone was a bit more gruff than usual, even throwing Tony off a bit.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry boss. Back to work."

As Tony took his seat at his desk, McGee pulled up a picture of a very obvious decomposed body being pulled from the water. "Master Sargent Gantry, was found by local police, washed up on the shore 2 days ago. Shot in the head, the county's ME determined the cause of death to be a suicide after tracing the trajectory of the bullet and the linking it to the Master Sargent's missing sidearm that the police found when doing a sweep of the lake." Using the clicker, he changed the screen so that it showed a picture of a plastic bag filled with what looked like letters and a personal recording device. "Unfortunately, a couple days later, they also found this vacuum sealed bag containing letters to the Master Sargent and a recording of an unidentified male admitting to friendly fire during a firefight back in Iraq of 1991."

"1991? Wasn't that-

Before Bishop could finish whatever historical fact she had in mind, she was interrupted by Gibbs.

"Operation Desert Storm."

All of you turned to look at him as he stood up from his desk, coffee in his hand.

"DiNozzo and McGee, I want you two getting all the information you can from Master Sargent Gentry's time in the Marine Corps. Find out if anyone had any problems with him that would suggest motive. Bishop, I want all the records pulled from the ME that did Gentry's autopsy, talk with Ducky and Palmer. Y/N, you're with me. Abby and Sloan are going over the recording found with our victims body."

No one dared asked any follow up questions as all the clues were adding up. His more than usual grumpiness, the distant look in his eyes. You all knew Gibbs served in Desert Storm so seeing what looked like a fragging on a superior officer and possible friend, would definitely offput him.

You caught up to him as he entered the elevator, destined to the lab. It was quiet for a few seconds before you decided to speak.

"You ok?

He just nodded, but didn't speak further on it. Once the doors opened, you were following behind as he entered Abby's lab, where Sloan was already waiting. She looked just as worried as you felt.

"Whadya got Abbs?"

"Ok, so luckily for us, the letters and recording were vacuum sealed in a plastic bag, preserving them perfectly. The letter don't give any names or clues as to who wrote them but when I listened on the recording, I found something."

Gibbs nodded to her, to which she turned to her computer and clicked a button, immediately filling the lab with loud sounds of machine guns firing. It was the only time you had ever seen Gibbs visibly flinch. As you all listened to the audio clearly describing a firefight with enemy forces, you noticed the change in Gibbs' demeanor. He seemed to stand rigid as his free hand slowly closed itself in a fist, while the other adjusted holding his coffee in almost a nervous manner.

Are they coming from the south side or not?!

Who's got eyes on that treeline?!

The sounds of bullets ricocheting off of metal could be heard as a couple of men cursed before returning fire.

Check your fire Watts!

Did I hit him?! Tell me I didn't hit him Sarge! Is he moving?!

You could see the hard swallow come from Gibbs as he turned towards the exit, glancing quickly over you before looking away. In that split second, you identified exactly what he was feeling. Panic.

"That's enough Abby," you spoke, making her quickly stop the recording in concern. You looked over at Sloan who was also know focused on Gibbs.

"You alright Gibbs?" she asked tentatively.

He cleared his throat and nodded before heading to leave. "Send the recording to DiNozzo and McGee. Have them identify the voices."

As he walked out, he threw his full cup of coffee away in the trash, confirming that something wasn't right. As Sloan made an attempt to follow him, you stopped her.

"I got it. You stay with Abby."

He had almost managed to escape you through the elevators but you threw your arm in between the doors, causing them to open back up as you slipped in.

As the elevator began it's accent, you watched as Gibbs leaned his head back against the wall, eyes shut, and began breathing a bit heavier than before. Knowing, he would never want anyone to see him like this, you hit the emergency stop button and went over to him.

"Gibbs. It's me, y/n. Can you hear me?"

He didn't answer, but instead turned to face the wall, hands gripping the railing till his knuckles were white. You knew at this point, he was fully immersed in a panic attack and couldn't talk. He was now breathing through his mouth, eyes still shut and you knew if you didn't so something, he was gonna start hyperventilating.

So you squeezed yourself underneath his arms so that it was you between him and the wall and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his head down to hear you.

"Jethro, it's me. You're having a panic attack and I need you to slow your breathing for me, alright?"

He shook his head in defiance as his jaw clenched and unclenched.

"Just listen to me. Listen to my voice. You're here with me. We're in the elevator, no one else is here."

You were surprised when he used one arm to wrap around your waist, squeezing you tightly, as the other stayed gripped to the railing.

"I- I can hear them-

Your heart broke at the sound of his voice. He sounded defeated and almost scared, causing you to hold him tighter. Still, you whispered the same words over again, hoping to bring him out of the obvious memory he was reliving.

"You're not there anymore. It's over, you're here now. With me. In the elevator. Bishop is down in the bullpen. Ducky and Palmer are in autopsy. Vance is in his office."

You recited everything to him, describing all the details.

"Just breath with me Jethro. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Keep doing that."

You practiced normal breathing with him until you finally felt some of his body relax. His other hand eventually let go of the railing and joined his other arm to wrap around you. His grip was still tight and his face was buried in the crook of your neck but his breathing was a lot better. Now you began to feel his body start trembling as all the adrenaline was slowly finding ways to leave him.

You knew the worst of it was over and you didn't need to talk anymore, but just hold him and stay with him until he was back in control. You ran your fingers through his hair in the same motion over and over again while making sure to take in deep breaths.

Once you felt his grip loosen and take a step back, you wiped your own tears that had fallen and smiled gently up at him. He quickly wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, obviously somewhat embarrassed about what happened but as he turned to look away from you, you pulled his face towards yours and kissed him.

You heard him sigh into the kiss as he pulled you back into his arms.

"Thank you," he said, moving to nuzzle your neck again.

"Of course. I'll always be there for you Jethro."

The both of you took a few more minutes to pull yourselves together before facing the rest of them team, which you knew were gonna have a lot of questions after Abby filled them in on what happened.

But none of it mattered as you smiled slightly to yourself, feeling closer to Gibbs than ever before.

[lee-laurent]

Picture Perfect - Luke Hughes

Summary: There was a reason that Tori and John broke up. Was there not?

content: children, angst, fluff, mentions of breakups, kissing, mentions of sex but no actual smut, mentions of pregnancy, crying, oc x ex!john marino

wc: 4.5k

notes: PART 8!! we're wrapping up guys! there are gonna be 10 parts, so the end is in sight. so happy that ppl have enjoyed this series!! :)

John's shirt was soaked, but he really couldn't have cared less. He was spending quality time with Riley. Getting to spend more time with his son than he almost ever had.

Riley giggled, launching his rubber duck off the faucet and into the bubbles below. He turned, making sure that his dad, who was sitting on the floor next to the tub, had seen the splash that the duck at made.

"Oo' watchin', Dada?" Riley beamed, clapping his hands as the duck resurfaced.

"I am! Very impressive, bud," he chuckled, scooping up some of the bubbles and placing them on Riley's head. The toddler giggled again, smacking the water with his hands. John lived for moments like that. Moments where he wasn't a professional hockey player. Moments where he was one thing and one thing only--Riley's dad.

"More! More!" Riley demanded, scooting forward to put the duck back on the faucet. He gave it a little push and it fell into the water with a plonk. His giggles filled the room again, kicking his legs to make waves that the duck "surfed" on.

John couldn't help but wonder how many moments like that he'd missed because of his career. How many bathtimes? How many storybooks? How many nights spent cuddling because Riley couldn't sleep? How many nights spent ridding the closet of monsters? Sure things with Tori were complicated, but he didn't want to miss out on those moments anymore.

"Alright, Ri-Ri, time to wash up before Mama gets on our case," John said, gently pulling the duck from Riley's grasp and reaching for the washcloth.

"Noooo, more ducky!"

"Hey, hey, no pouting. If we wash up fast and get all clean, maybe Mama will let us watch Scooby Doo before bed. What do you think?"

Riley blinked, considering the offer before finally nodding. "Otay, Dada."

John smiled, relived that he didn't have to deal with a tantrum. He reached for the Spiderman themed "no-tears" shampoo and body wash. Riley giggled as John created a mohawk using the watermelon-scented soap.

"Rockstar Riley."

"Woc-staw Wiley."

"That's right, Rockstar Riley," he said, carefully washing the suds out with a cup of warm water. The bath was winding down, and Riley seemed far more relaxed since the promise of watching Scooby Doo.

Once Riley was clean and towel-wrapped, John hoisted him out of the tub, careful to balance him on his hip as they headed to the bedroom. Tori met them in the hall, smiling when she saw Riley's sleepy eyes peeking out from under the towel.

"Looks like bathtime was a success."

"Yeah, we had a blast," John replied, rocking the bundled toddler back and forth.

"Watch 'Ooby Doo!" Riley piped up, his voice full of energy despite his half-closed eyes.

"Alright, but just one episode. Bedtime is soon."

"Otay, Mama."

Once pajamas were on, they settled into the living room, Riley snuggled between his parents on the couch. John sat back, his arm on the back of the sofa, while Riley rested his head on Tori's chest. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment but he refused to fall asleep.

"This... this feels right," John said quietly, more to himself than anyone.

"Yeah... it does."

The credits rolled and John picked up a sleeping Riley. "I'll put him down."

"He, uh, he needs a sleep sack... so he doesn't climb out."

"I know, Tori. He's slept at mine," John grinned, shaking his head.

"Right. I... I forgot."

"I'll be back."

"Night, Ri-Ri. Mama loves you," she mumbled, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

~~

"You heading out?" Tori asked, pausing the episode of Gossip Girl she had put on.

"I, uh, I assumed I was sleeping over."

"Sleeping over?"

John rubbed the back of his neck, "I just figured, since Ri's asleep and I did last night... maybe I'd stay again tonight."

Tori stared at him a moment, processing his words. Having him stay the first night had been because she needed him for support, the second night had been a moment of passion, but a third night? That felt different in her mind. It felt like they were sliding back into something they shouldn't. Especially since she and Luke hadn't officially... broken up.

"John... I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why not? I mean, Riley's asleep, and we've had a good couple days. Why make things harder?"

She sighed, pulling her legs up against her chest. "It's not about making things harder. It's about... what's right. We haven't really talked about what's happening between us. And I don't think we can just fall back into this without figuring things out."

"I'm not saying we have to figure everything out tonight, Tori. But things have been working well. And I've missed so much not being here... I just-"

Tori swallowed, guilt twisting in her chest. She missed the simplicity of having John around too. The easy routine, the helping hands when it came to having a toddler, the family dynamic she'd always wanted for Riley. But what if their old issues snuck their way back in?

"And Luke," she said softly, not meeting John's eyes. "Things with Luke... we haven't officially broken up."

John tensed, "Right. Luke."

Tori winced at the bitterness in his voice. "It's complicated, John. You know that."

"It's always complicated with him, isn't it?" John muttered. "You're not with him, but you're not breaking up with him either. Meanwhile, you're having sex with me. I'm trying to figure out where I stand. Am I supposed to just wait around, Victoria?"

"That's not what I'm asking for. I just... we need to slow down. For our sake. For Riley's sake."

John just exhaled sharply, crossing his arms over his chest, but gave a nod. "I get it. You're right. I just... I need to be here, Tori. To be with Riley. To be with... I'll go. But I'm coming over after the game tomorrow night."

She stood up, walking him to the door, hoping that she'd made the right decision. "Thanks for understanding," she murmured.

"I'm always here for my son. Just, uh, I'll text tomorrow."

"Okay. Night, John."

"Goodnight, Tori."

It wasn't until she heard the click of the lock that she felt like she could breathe. She went into the kitchen, popping open a bottle of wine, before settling back onto the couch to finish her show. Why couldn't her life be easier?

~~

Tori woke up to Gossip Girl still playing on the TV. She blinked, groggy, realizing that she had fallen asleep on the couch. The empty glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, a reminder of the emotionally charged conversation she'd had with John.

She stretched, rubbing her temples, but before she could get up to make herself a cup of coffee, Riley's voice echoed from his bedroom.

"Mama! Where Dada?"

Tori felt her heart sink. Riley's voice was getting louder, more insistent, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was a tantrum. So, she pulled herself up from the couch and made her way down the hall.

"Mama's coming! Mama's coming, baby!"

She opened the door to find Riley standing in his crib, his hands gripping the wooden rail, eyes wide and expectant.

"Where Dada?"

"Dada went home, sweetpea. He had to get ready for his game today."

"But who play dinos?"

Tori lifted him from his crib, holding him close. "I know, Ri-Ri. We'll see Dada soon, I promise."

"'oon?"

"Yes, baby. After his game, okay? He loves playing with you, remember?"

Riley nodded, "Play now?"

Tori hated this. Hated how complicated everything felt. She wanted Riley to be happy, to have the world he deserved--one where his dad was there when he wanted. But things didn't fall into place that easily. Last night had reminded her of how stubborn John could be, but maybe he could get over that for Riley.

"How about we eat breakfast first? Then maybe we can call Dada?"

"Otay."

Tori placed him in his high chair, getting him a bowl of cheerios and blueberries together. She knew deep down that he'd play with them more than he'd eat them, but she really wasn't in the mood to make pancakes or waffles.

"Mama?" he asked, sticking cheerios to his spit covered hand.

"Yes, baby?"

"Dada come home?"

She sighed, "We'll see him soon, Ri-Ri."

"'Uke?"

Tori nearly dropped her mug on the floor, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn't expected Riley to ask about him, especially when he seemed so fixated on his dad. She turned to look at him, placing her coffee down for safety.

"Luke?" she repeated, brushing his curls from his face.

Riley nodded, poking at another Cheerio. "Dada no play. 'Uke play?"

His innocent question cut deeper than she had expected. He had grown fond of Luke, and Tori now had to face that fact that Luke had been more than a casual part of Riley's life.

"Luke's... busy right now, baby."

"'ockey?"

"Yes, Luke's busy with hockey. So, he's not coming over today."

Riley's face scrunched up in disappointment, but he didn't press further. He instead just grabbed a blueberry and squished it under his finger.

"Don't play with your food, Riley. It's for eating."

"Otay," he replied, clearly not listening as he squished another berry. Tori just rolled her eyes, letting it go. She grabbed her coffee, leaning against the window. She had already felt bad about asking John to leave the previous night, and now Riley was asking for not just his dad but also Luke. She felt so stuck, like she was being pulled in two directions at once. On one hand was John, the father of her child. On the other, Luke, who had shown her a different kind of love, one that made her feel seen. Like she was more than just Riley's mom.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, hoping it would be Luke. But her prayers remained unanswered... it was just John.

Hope Ri slept well. I'll be by after game, like we talked about.

They hadn't really "talked" about it. He'd just kind of stated that he would be by after the game. It didn't really seem like Tori had much choice in the matter.

"Mama! Dinos?"

She shook herself from her daze, grabbing a washcloth to clean up Riley. "Dinos it is."

~~

When 7 o'clock rolled around, Tori had Riley sat in the living room in his 'Marino' jersey, playing dinos with the game on the TV. Even though he seemed only interested in his toys, Tori knew that the moment he heard John's name or his face flashed across the screen, his eyes would be glued to the TV.

Riley looked up, waving his dino in the air. "'Ook, Mama! Dino 's gonna eat Dada! Nom nom nom!"

"Oh no! You better tell dino to be nice to Dada!"

Riley made the dino "apologize," then went back to his game. John was out there, doing his job, being his best self while she sat at home and tried to put her life back together. The image of John being a larger-than-life hockey player conflicted with the John that she knew. The John that she fell in love with.

The game announcer mentioned John's name, and Riley perked up just as Tori expected. "Dada on TV!" he squealed, scrambling to his feet.

"Yep! They said Dada's name, huh?"

"Dada 'gon score?"

"Maybe." She wasn't really sure how much of the game Riley truely understood, but seeing him light up when John played brought a smile to her face.

It was funny how after years of being with John and then being friends that she still found it surreal to watch him on TV. To know that thousands of people knew his name and went to watch his team play, while she sat at home with their child at her feet, talking about how he was going to be just like Dada when he grew up. She'd always respond with "I bet Dada would love that." Although deep down she didn't want him to end up "just like" John. Sure things had been better recently, but John had his flaws. She just hoped that they could keep making things work for Riley.

But she also didn't want to lead him on. She had Luke to worry about, he--

"'Ook, Mama! Dada skatin'!"

"Yeah, baby. He's skating fast, isn't he?"

"Fast! Dada super fast!" He grabbed one of his dinosaurs, making it zoom across the table. God, could Riley possibly admire John more? He was like a fucking superhero to the toddler.

A commercial break started and Tori stood up to grab herself a snack.

"Riley, do you want a--"

Her phone buzzed. Probably just John again, giving her an update on the game.

Hey, we need to talk. I'll call after the game?

Luke? Why now? Why did he want to talk now?

"What, Mama?"

"Sorry, Ri. D'you want a pouch?"

"Yes p'wease! Pouch!"

Tori continued to stare at her phone as she grabbed Riley a fruit pouch from the cupboard. Luke's text felt like it was staring into her soul. Why had he decided to reach out halfway through a game? Had John made a comment, said something he shouldn't have? All the possibilities and she wouldn't get an answer until after the game.

She took a deep breath, then placed her phone face-down on the counter, grabbing herself a bowl of Goldfish crackers. Riley was happily bouncing around to the music playing in one of the commercials. If only she could be so relaxed.

"No more phone for the rest of the game," she mumbled, taking the pouch to Riley.

"Tank 'oo, Mama!"

"Of course, baby. Is Dada back on the TV yet?"

"'Uke! I see'd 'Uke!"

"You saw Luke on the TV?"

"Yes! In jail."

"In jail?" she furrowed her brow. What in the world did that mean?

"Yes, 'Uke in jail."

"I-" then the screen flashed to a furious looking Luke sitting in the penalty box. Of course Riley thought that was jail. John had probably taught him that, she rolled her eyes. "You're right. Luke is in timeout."

"He be bad, so they put him in jail," Riley nodded, making his dinos fight.

A few moments later, Luke skated back onto the ice. It felt weird watching him on the TV too. Like he was even more distant, more unreachable. The man who had become such an important part of hers and Riley's lives, now felt like a complication that she didn't want to deal with.

"'Uke is free. No more jail," Riley pointed, singing 'no more jail' to himself a couple more times.

"That's right. They freed him from timeout."

Tori spent the rest of the game on the floor with Riley, trying to keep her mind off things. And it worked, the rest of the game flew by and before she knew it, John was knocking at the door.

She forced herself to stand up, smoothing down her Devils t-shirt as she walked to the door. With a deep breath, she opened the door. John stood there in casual clothes, opposed to the suit that the Devils had posted a picture of him arriving in. His hair was damp from the showers, a reminder of the game that he had just won.

"Hey! Did you guys watch the game?"

"Yeah, he was glued to the screen everytime he heard your name," she smiled, motioning towards Riley, who was now busy making his dinos 'free' each other from jail just like Luke. "He was excited."

"Hey bud! Did you watch Dada on the TV?" John asked, scooping up the toddler.

"Dada went 'uper fast! Like zooooom! And then Dada win! And then my dino eat 'oo, Dada!"

"What?! Dino ate me?! You gotta be careful with those dinos, huh?"

"It's okay. I kiss it better," Riley grinned, pressing a kiss to John's cheek.

"Aww, thanks, Ri-Ri. I feel all better now."

Riley squirmed out of John's arms to go back to his dinos. Tori caught John's eye and for a moment it felt just the way it did when Riley was first born.

"You gonna stay for a bit?"

"Yeah. It'd be nice to play with him for a bit before bed."

"Perfect. I--"

Her phone started buzzing rhythmically. Someone was calling her. Luke was calling her.

"Shit. I gotta take this. I'll be right back," she forced a smile, taking her phone down the hall to her bedroom. "Hey."

"Hey. I, uh, sorry for texting during the name, but we need to talk. I've been doing a lot of thinking."

Tori sat on the edge of her bed. She had been expecting this, but now that it was happening, she didn't know how to respond. "Okay. What's on your mind?"

"I... I know things have been weird lately. I needed time to think. And I'm sorry I aired you for so long. But I need to know if we're still on the same page here, Tori. If this... if we still have a chance."

Tori swallowed, glancing at the closed door. John was out there, playing with Riley, and the reality of the situation felt heavier than it did before. She hated that no matter what, someone was going to get hurt.

"Things are complicated right now, Luke. I care about you, I do. But John... he's Riley's dad--"

"And you feel like you owe it to Riley to make things work with John," Luke finished for her, his tone clipped. "I get it, Tori. I do. But you need to figure out what you want. What's going to make you happy. Not just Riley."

"I'm a mom, Luke. Riley's happiness comes first. H--"

"Is that why you slept with John?"

"What?"

"Heard him talking to some of the other guys about it. Were you going to tell me?"

"I was going to tell you. I just didn't know when... or how. It-- it was just kind of happened. And we've been on this weird break, so--"

"So you decided that because I wasn't there, you'd sleep with your ex. Great. Do you have feelings for him, Tori? Is that what this is?"

"I don't know."

"You don't seem to know much, d'you? D'you know if you love me? Or is that still up in the air too?"

"Luke--"

"I don't know why I even called you. Call me when you figure your shit out. Until then, good luck."

The line went dead. Luke's words hit like a punch to the face. She blinked back her tears, refusing to have a break down right now--not with John and Riley both a few feet away. She didn't know what she wanted, and that was the truth. But hearing him throw it back at her didn't feel very nice.

Figure your shit out.

He was right. She couldn't keep doing this. Dragging two people she cared about--Hell, three people. Riley was part of this too--into a mess she made because she couldn't make a decision.

She composed herself, making her way back to the living room. John glanced up at her. He could see right through her fake smile. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing. Just, uh, just some stuff with Luke."

"If he makes you upset, why are you still wasting your time on him?"

"John. Not in front of Riley."

"They put 'Uke in jail, Dada," Riley decided to join the conversation.

"Yeah, you're right, Riley. Luke got a penalty," John had to keep himself from sighing listening to his son mention his mother's boyfriend.

"But you no in jail."

"Mhm."

"You was good."

"It's past time bedtime, Ri-Ri," Tori cut off, sensing that she and John weren't going to accomplish much with Riley in the room.

"Dada read cat-pilla?"

"You want Dada to ready you 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar'?" Tori asked for clarification.

"Uh huh."

"Alright. Let's go brush our teeth and get in our jammies. Then Dada and you can read." Tori picked him up and headed down the hall, John following behind. Once they'd settled on a pair of blue pajamas to wear under his sleepsack, he cuddled up with John on his rocking chair. He continued to babble about Luke and being put in jail. Talking about how bad guys go to jail. John sat there with an unreadable expression on his face, holding the picture book that Riley had requested.

"Okay, Ri. That's enough talking about jail. Let Dada read."

"Otay. 'oo stay Mama?"

"No, Mama's gonna go take a bath."

"Say 'goodnight' to Mama."

"Night, Mama."

"Night, baby," she responded, blowing him a kiss.

"In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf," John read aloud, Riley tracing little patterns on his dad's arm.

Tori double-checked that his nightlight was plugged-in before making her way to the bathroom for a much needed hot bath. She turned on the hot water and let the room fill with steam. She even poured in lavendar bath salts because it was one of those days. As she slid into the warm water, she could still make out John's voice reading out "The Very Hungry Caterpillar." It felt like everything was okay. Like they were a real family again.

But deep down, she knew that wasn't true. Luke's call had been a wake-up call. She needed to stop the indecision. She couldn't ignore the cracks forming around her. John was Riley's father, and he'd been there for her. Well, sort of. He was there for Riley, who was an extension of her. Luke had come into her life and been there for her. Not just for Riley, but for her. No questions ask. John always asked questions. He always had a motive behind his actions, but not Luke. Luke cared about her in a way that she wasn't sure John did. Sure, she was the mother of his child, so he'd always have some love for her. But she found it kind of convinent how he'd only tried to push more into her life once she started seeing Luke.

After what felt like an eternity with her thoughts, there was a knock at the bathroom door. "Ri's down for the night."

"Thanks."

"Mind if I hang out for a bit? Talk?"

"Uh, yeah, give me a minute."

"We can talk in there if you want."

"John..."

"Right. I'll be in your room."

"Thanks."

She sank deeper into the water, trying to get a few more moments of peace before she had to talk to John. Figure your shit out. No more limbo. It was time to face reality, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

She dried off and wrapped herself in a robe before finally heading down to her room. John was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees.

"So what's on your mind?"

"I don't want to push you, V. I know things have been complicated and I don't want to make them harder. But I need to know where we stand. With Luke in the picture, I just... I can't keep pretending everything is fine."

"I get that. And I can't blame you for wanting answers. I just, I need to figure out what's best for Riley, for me. For everyone."

"I'm Riley's dad. Am I not what's best for him?"

"You know that's not what I mean, John. We'll always need you. You're his dad. And seeing the two of you recently, it... it's been so amazing."

"Victoria. I need to know what you want, though. Not for Riley. For yourself."

"God, you sound just like Luke," she threw her hands up.

"Why? Because we both want you to care for yourself too?"

Tori bit her lip, a lump rising in her throat. She had been asking herself the same questions for weeks, and now, sitting there with John, maybe things were become a little more clear. She cared about him. Hell, she loved him and she loved the family that they could be for Riley. But that wasn't enough, was it?

"I do care about me. But Riley comes first. And I thought... maybe we could try again, for his sake. But then, there's Luke. And he's been there for me, John, in ways that you... you haven't been in a long time."

John's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt.

"I feel like you've only really tried to be here for me since Luke came into the picture. And... that's not fair to any of us. I don't want to force something just because... just because we have a child together. I need to feel wanted for me... not because I'm Riley's mom."

John exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I get that. And you're right, I... I wasn't always there like I shoul've been. But I'm trying now. I want to be there for you, for Riley, because I care about you. Not just because of him. But I can't wait around forever while you figure this out."

"I want to believe you, John. I really do. But... we haven't worked for a reason."

"Tori, I--" His words caught in his throat. "I know we haven't worked in the past, but things change. People can change. I'm trying. I am."

She didn't doubt that he was trying, but it was too late now. The damage had been done. And Luke had finally shown her what real, true love looked like.

"John--"

"I can't just walk away from this, from us. Not without knowing we've given us a real second chance."

"I don't know if... if there is a second chance here. We've tried so many times, but it's always for Riley. It's never for us. Us doesn't work, John. We... we work as co-parents, but we don't work as us."

"Tori, please..."

"John..."

"So that's it? You're choosing Luke?"

"I'm choosing what feels right for me. I can't keep pretending there's something here that isn't. I can't pretend just for Riley."

"But Riley needs us. Together."

"Riley needs us to be good parents. And we can do that without being together. We can give me stability, love, everything he needs. Everything you've been giving him the last few days. He needs that John to be around. I know work is draining, John. I can't even imagine what it's like being a professional athlete. But the John that's been here the last few days, playing and reading books to our boy. That's the John he needs all the time."

"You're right. I just... I haven't been ready to admit it."

"You're a great dad, John. And Riley is always going to need you. I will always need you here as his father. Luke isn't going to replace that. But we need to stop holding onto the past. It's time to move forward."

"I don't want to lose you guys."

"And you won't. We'll figure this out, John. Together, as Ri's parents."

"Yeah. As Riley's parents," John nodded, his voice hoarse.

With that, John leaned down and pressed a kiss to Tori's forehead before making his way to the door. Tori stood there, watching him go, feeling both the weight of what she'd done but also the relief that she was no longer trapped in two seperate worlds.

Now she needed to let Luke know that she'd figured her shit out.

[queers-gambit]

But You Without Me Ain't Nice

prompt: ( requested ) deciding to surprise your boyfriend for Christmas after studying abroad, only to discover him in the arms of another. when you return to Oxford, so does his desire.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 5.7k+

note: it's not EXPLICIT cheating 'cause i wanted them to get back together.

warnings: small bouts of jaded feminism, cursing, hurt and comfort, AU timeline 'cause of implied altered canon, small angst, drama, emotions are hard, long distance relationships are hard, boys are dumb, "cheating" but not explicit - you'll see, more so betrayal, so that makes this relationship angst?

Cassandra's squeal of excitement was shrill enough to pierce an eardrum when you shuffled into her dormitory, shaking the snow from your hair and coat before she hugged you tightly. "I'm so excited you're here!" She beamed, "It's been so fucking lonely without you! God, you just had to leave, huh?"

You chuckled, "Oh, shove it. Edinburgh has one of the best programs in Europe, Cass, you know this!"

"I know, I know, you're better than us little folk at Oxford," she mocked with a groan, letting go of you as your eyes rolled in humor. "But still - it's so boring without you, I miss my roomie. There's literally nobody around for me to cause havoc with," she pouted dramatically.

"Well, I'm here for the holidays," you assured, "so you get me for the next couple weeks, you lucky ducky."

"Oh, please, you and I both know Felix isn't gonna let you outta his sight when he sees you. You planning on goin' home at all?"

"No, no, my sister has a flat just down the way," you explained. "She's in London until after the New Year - gave me her key when she picked me up from the airport," you showed her the metal device with a grin.

"Gonna take Felix back to the flat?"

"If he wants," you nodded.

"Oh, yeah, whatever, a flat completely to yourselves for the entire winter holiday? He's gonna lose his mind," your friend tutted. "When are you seeing him?"

"Uh, he said he was going to some party tonight?"

"Well, that's normal," she muttered almost bitterly. "C'mon, get changed, we'll meet him there."

"What do you mean, 'normal'?"

"What? Oh," her head shook as if realizing what she had just said. "No, it's - it's nothing, just," she winced slightly, "Felix is at every party."

"Really?" You asked softly. "We talk all the time on the phone, when does he even have time?"

"No offense, but it's not like he's a model student. He's constantly partying, I hear about it all the time from girls in class - "

"What do they say?"

"He's just popular - you know, he's Felix. And he's a regular at the pubs, too."

You had a weird feeling in your gut and chest, just nodding at Cassandra. "Well, at least he's enjoying himself," you offered meekly.

"Mhm, got that right," she snickered. "He's a legend 'round the university, even people in other colleges and programs know about him. Guess that's one way t'make an impression."

"Yeah, that's Felix for yah," you sighed. "Can I borrow an outfit?"

"What's wrong with that?" She paused, looking you up and down, then wincing, "Yeah, okay, I have options for you."

"Oh, don't sound so judgmental!" You laughed, "I just didn't pack party clothes, I didn't think we'd be going to any."

"You're so lucky to have me," she grinned at you, shoving through a rack of options in her wardrobe. "You wanna look classy slutty, spicy slutty, or just plain slutty-slutty?"

You hummed and chose the 'classy' option, being an open back black mini dress that clung to your figure and hiked up your thighs with every step. It felt exciting to be with Cassandra again, meeting your first year of secondary school and becoming the closest of friends; enduring family turmoil and social drama arm-in-arm. You listened to preppy pop music as you got ready; taking turns in the bathroom to finish your hair and make-up before slipping the dress on and latching the borrowed heels around your ankles.

When you gave her a look at your final outfit, she approved - claiming Felix would probably have a heart attack when he saw you.

"Wait!" You laughed, snatching a festive Santa Claus hat from the care package her parents sent; nestling it on your head. "Eh? Eh? Right? It's good!"

"Girl - "

"C'mon, it's festive!"

"You're lucky you're just so damn cute - it works," she grinned, tossing you your coat before shrugging into hers. "Hold on - you know the rules!" She halted you from opening the dorm door, holding up the bottle of tequila. "Shots before we leave!"

"Jesus, I've missed you," you laughed, taking the solo cup she held out; watching her pour enough for at least 2-3 shots.

"It'll keep us warm in the snow," she explained. "They not partying down at Edinburgh?"

"Not like here," you snickered, downing the drinks with a screwed up expression. "And they're all really preppy - like I thought Oxford had snobs, but Christ Almighty. My roommate down there literally had a panic attack when I bought a bottle of wine."

"Why?"

"She's American, said they're not allowed until they're 21."

"Wow... That's gotta suck for them," she downed her own shots. "Okay! You ready? Wait, are you wearing panties?"

"Yeah - "

"You can't in that dress."

"I'm not taking my panties off, Cass, let's just go!" You laughed, snatching her hand and leading her out of the dorm. "So, c'mon, tell me about the guy you're seeing," you requested, looping your arms together, trudging onto the snowy sidewalk.

"Oh, you mean Jason? Yeah, no, that's over. I just realized that being here is literally the only time in my life I'll have all these easy opportunities and there was no use in wasting my time dating just one person. And it eliminates the threat of cheating. Like... I don't hold my liquor all that well anymore and there's so many good looking people here! Why be in a relationship and run that risk, you know?"

You blinked at her, unsure what to say.

"Oh," she froze, "no, no, I didn't mean - no, look, dating in college is really cool when you know you're with the right person. And since you and Felix have been together for two years already, I think it's pretty safe to say he's the right one - right?"

"I think so... But I can't lie, I've been feeling kinda guilty, thinking Felix would prefer the opportunity to sow his wild oats instead of committing to us. You know? Like you said - "

"No, don't do that, you're gonna give yourself an aneurysm being stressed and upset," she hugged your arm tightly, continuing down the sidewalk. "Felix doesn't want t'be single, he would've bucked up the nerve to break up already. And you guys talk so often, he would've said something, right?"

You mused, "Not necessarily, Felix is used to having all he wants."

She shrugged off your words, "You're overthinking 'cause you're nervous to surprise him. But you're the best Christmas present, seriously. Made my day all the better."

You just smiled and skipped over the patch of ice in your way, nearly slipping, but Cassandra kept a tight hold on you - laughing loudly, your amused shrieks echoing around the brownstone buildings. When you arrived at the flat hosting the party, you climbed 2 flights of stairs without incident and let yourselves in; being greeted by strobe lights, thick clouds of smoke, and an abundance of drunken Oxford students.

It was packed - a welcomed sight after your past semester abroad, attending dinner parties with tart wines and classical music. You only had one more semester left before coming back to Oxford full time, and things just weren't the same being away; you missed the excitement, the parties, the friends you made. Granted, you had friends at Edinburgh, you often thought you could make friends anywhere, but you knew a lot of faces here. It was a comfort. And despite knowing you were here only a couple weeks until the next semester began again, it was still nice being back.

You were greeted by several people, being hugged happily and your cheeks kissed sloppily. They asked all about your program in Scotland, insisting you do rounds of shots with them, updating you on the juiciest gossip you missed.

They told you everything... Except what you should've known.

"Have you guys seen Felix?" You asked, glancing around the packed party. You noticed the uncomfortable looks exchanged, questioning, "What? What is it?"

"Uh, you know what?" Oliver Quick sighed, a new addition to the friend group that you didn't know - actually meeting for the first time tonight. "Yeah, yeah, saw him over there - on the sofa," he pointed somewhere behind you.

"Thanks, mate," you patted his shoulder, turning to push through the partygoers.

When you were gone, Farleigh turned to Oliver, "What the fuck was that? You know Felix is drunk off his tits and India's rubbing real close."

"So? Shouldn't she know someone's making moves on her man?" Oliver asked. "Not exactly fair - "

"It's not entirely fair to set Felix up like that," Farleigh sneered. "He misses her, so he drinks, flirts with girls. But he's not acting on it, you just want to get him in trouble, you fuckin' twat!"

Oliver shrugged, looking over in time to spy you approaching the couch. "He'll only get in trouble if he's acting on his impulses, being unfaithful," Ollie sneered.

When you made it through the crowd, you found Felix sitting on the couch, but what made you stop in your tracks was the little lady sat on his lap - a girl you recognized vaguely. Felix downed the shot being handed to him, grinning that stupid grin you adore, broad hands splayed on the girl's thigh as she curled into her chest with skinny arms wrapped around his neck. Her sticky lips whispered something in his ear, giving a small nibble that made your boyfriend laugh - always the ticklish type.

The alcohol you had already downed burned an angry hole in your gut, heart heavy with betrayal, feeling outrage at their audacity the longer you watched. You looked beside you and snatched the drink from a drunk guy, taking two dramatic strides up to them and without thought, launched the entire cup at the couple.

"You bitch!" India gasped, rocketing to her feet. Felix was about to yell himself, but when he looked up and registered your angry eyes glaring at him, he gaped in shock. "Seriously, what the fuck is your issue, slut?" India sneered, stamping her foot.

"Oh, fuck off, sweetheart," you snapped, "not like it's my boyfriend you're sitting on! Really wouldn't throw stones if I was you!"

Felix stood and pushed India to the side, "Baby - "

"Oh, spare me your fucking excuses, Felix! For Christ's sake! This is what you've been doing while I'm gone!? Huh!?"

"No - "

"Bullshit! Cass told me you're constantly partying, so is this what you do? Huh? Hang up the phone with me, come to these shitty parties, get shit faced, and take girls home before calling me in the morning? You even wait until they're gone before dialing my number?"

"Darling, I swear - nothing was happening, nothing was going to happen! I don't - "

"Well, not with us soaking wet!" India raged. "You're just a jealous hag, I mean, you're dating someone like Felix but I've never even seen you! Maybe if you were a better girlfriend, he wouldn't be looking elsewhere!"

"Jesus Christ, India! Fuck off - NOW!" Felix bellowed, shocking the girl. "You don't know a Goddamn thing you're saying, and you know you're too desperate - "

"Oh! So, you're moving in on 'desperate' girls 'cause they're easy, right?" You snapped. "She might be desperate, but you are fucking pathetic, Felix! I know you get everything you want, I know you don't know real consequences, but I don't have to add to that!"

"Let's just talk outside," he tried, looking more and more like a kicked puppy.

"I'm not going anywhere with you again. This isn't working, Felix, there's no way I can trust you - not when I've just seen - this!"

"Baby, it isn't - look, this isn't what it looks like! Okay? I know it looks bad, but I don't touch them - "

"There's more!? Of course, there's more - 'cause why have just one, right?"

He winced, "I just - listen, I only flirt, baby, I swear, but I-I know that's not much better. You bein' gone, I-I have this pent up energy - "

"Oh, the poor rich boy! Unsupervised without his girlfriend, so you think it's okay to flirt with other girls? Have them sit on your lap? Touch them? Flirt all night?"

"I know it sounds bad - "

"No, you know what?" You chuckled ruefully. "You two have fun, I'm out. I'm so fucking done with you, Felix, this relationship - it obviously isn't viable. So, have your skank, but make sure you get to a clinic. You obviously couldn't choose someone decent to cheat on me with, make sure she doesn't give you any STDs."

"What did you say, bitch!?" India tried to surge up to you, but Cassandra stepped in and shoved both her shoulders; sending her sprawling to the dirty, sticky floor.

"Watch yourself," she barked, dropping another drink on her and making India squeal. She glared at Felix and approached you, hushing, "You okay?"

"No."

"Let's get outta here," she nodded, wrapping you in her arms and leading the way out - not like she had to, students parted way like the Red Sea to let you two pass.

"Wait!" Felix rushed, grabbing his jacket and following you both out. Despite the heels, mini dresses, and alcohol, you and Cass were sober enough to scurry down the stairs and outside by the time he caught up. "Baby! Wait! Please, c'mon, let me explain!"

"You've done enough! I've seen enough!" You yelled back, Cass not stopping you two from making your escape. "Just fuck off back to your whores, Felix!"

"No, no," he rushed in front of you two, forcing you to stop. "Let me talk to you, please, you think it's worse than it is, I mean - "

"Awh, you think just touching other bitches isn't that bad?" Cass sneered. "Silly slut," she scoffed, rolling her pretty eyes.

"Cass, do you mind? This is between us," He sighed.

"Oh-ho, I very much mind," she rolled her eyes. "Grovel if you want, but I'm not leaving you two alone."

"I don't want to talk, Felix! For fuck's sake, I saw all I needed to. I'm literally killing myself slowly in Scotland, trying to secure my own future 'cause not all of us can be born into money - "

"Baby, that's not fair - "

" - And you're here, living your best life, being fucking deceitful, aren't you? Your girlfriend on the side and a full buffet of sluts to choose from - and nobody would know 'cause I wasn't in the fucking country! You know what?" You chuckled, "Thank you, actually. Thank you for proving what I feared the most and cutting us free. Better to know now than later when I'm far more invested. Enjoy your pick of the fucking litter, Felix, 'cause I'm removing myself from this equation, you're now free to do whatever you want - don't have to be such a gentleman anymore and just flirt with them."

"You're right, okay? You're right, I wasn't thinking, I was trying to - I don't even know! Have 'the college experience', I think, and I got carried away. I'm so sorry - "

"You're only sorry 'cause you got caught," Cass snapped.

"Ohk for fuck's sake - Cass, I love you and all, but do you mind if this stays between my girl and I?"

"Oh, so you inviting all that female attention was 'keeping it between you'?" She cocked her head, rolling her eyes. "C'mon, babe, let's go. You don't need to hear his pathetic whinging anymore."

"Think you're right," you sniffled from the cold. "Bye, Felix."

"Please - let's just talk about this!"

"No more talking!" You barked. "You don't need to defend yourself, I saw her with you - I don't need your excuses! This is over, Felix, just - for God's sake, fuck off, already!"

He froze, never hearing such aggressive words from you before. In the years you were friends and the two you've dated, you hadn't so much as raised your voice at him - even when upset. To hear such profanity at this level shocked him. He's heard you yell, but usually at other people; he's heard you curse, but typically from excitement. He felt overwhelmed watching Cassandra walk you away under her arm, the tears surfacing and his confusion blinding; wondering how the hell he had managed to fuck everything up THIS bad.

When you got back to her dorm, you were a wreck and Cassandra wasn't sure how to start comforting you. She watched you slide to the floor in tears and squatted to take your shoes off, set the bottle of tequila beside you, and then got comfortable on the ground, too. She stretched her arm around your shoulders, sighing sadly, and just held you when you sobbed uselessly into her neck.

No amount of crying would change the past. No amount of frustration or self-pity would help. No amount of regret would turn back time and prevent you from leaving your very attractive boyfriend to the mercy of Oxford sluts.

After an hour of just crying, Cassandra perked up and asked, "You wanna stay the night here or go to your sister's?"

"Felix knows where your dorm is," you sniffled, mascara down your cheeks and chin. "Maybe we should go?"

"You want me to come, too?"

"I don't want to be alone..."

"Lemme pack real fast," she agreed, leaving you on the floor to drink until you felt numb while she raced around to prepare a duffel bag. When she was finished, she hoisted you from the ground and took her car keys, shouldering your own duffel, and leading you out of the dorms. On your way to student parking, neither of you were surprised to find Felix sprinting in your direction.

"Baby! Wait, wait, wait! Please!" He begged, barely slowing down and literally skidding to a halt, nearly slipping on ice. "Just - please, let me talk to you. I-I can't let you leave thinking I fucked those girls - "

"Oh, just go fuck yourself, Felix!" You laughed.

"Is she drunk?" He asked Cass in mild shock.

"Do you know a better way to deal with a break up?" She rolled her eyes.

"We're not broken up - "

"I heard otherwise," she sneered. "You're not used to losing, Felix, but the rest of us, on Earth, know when a relationship is over."

"I made a mistake!" He pleaded loudly.

"Just one?" You snapped.

"No, you know what? I've made a few, but I swear, nothing fucking happened! Not with any of them!"

"Oh," you mocked, snickering to Cassandra.

"Just give me a chance - "

"I did," you interrupted sadly. "I gave you all the chances, Felix, and you still chose to betray me. So, you know what? I just need time to digest your bullshit betrayal, and in order to do that, I literally can't be around you."

"How will you know how sorry I am?"

"I know, I can see it - just like I saw that bitch on your lap," you scoffed. "Can we go now?"

"C'mon, babe," Cass agreed.

"Go? Go where?" He rushed, looking panicked.

"Away from you!" You laughed, holding onto your friends arm tightly as you wobbled in her borrowed shoes.

"At least let me help you - "

"Don't need help from a slut!" You shouted to the sky, not stopping.

Felix Catton was left standing in the snow, his heart walking away from him in heels too high.

And when you got to your sister's flat, Cassandra raided the fridge and brought you ice cream and pretzels - for something both sweet and salty. For the rest of the night, you cried while stuffing your face, but whatever it was worth, at the very least, you had your best friend there to wipe your tears.

Well, after a gut wrenching Christmas break, you went back to Scotland to finish an anticlimactic semester at one of the world's most prestigious universities. Without Felix to call, you dedicated more time to studying, which paid off, because by the end, you received the highest marks in your college and earned multiple letters of recommendations from well-respected professors.

But now that the year abroad was over, you were set to return to Oxford for the next three weeks to report back to your program chairs and give them an update. Suddenly, it was like the entire semester of avoiding your feelings about Felix caught up to you the moment you boarded the plane. You had stuffed your emotions deep down, ignored his morning and evening phone calls (yes, he still called everyday), and tried your hand at dating other people - but it wasn't the same. You hated that you missed him so much, but you figured you had more self-respect than to belittle yourself for a man.

A beautiful, kind, generous man... Who made a mistake... Who demonstrated remorse... Who understands what he did was wrong and hurtful... And your Daddy did raise you to 'forgive and forget'. But still, you had a difficult time forgiving Felix in full, and therefore, couldn't forget what he did.

The betrayal was still so fresh and you couldn't stomach the idea of even speaking to him. So, you decided to avoid him by any means.

When you returned to England, it was drearier than normal. Your sister wasn't able to pick you up this time, figuring you would just hail a cab when someone laid on their horn in a long, continuous, obnoxious beep. When you looked over, Cassandra was waving at you rapidly through her window.

With an easy grin, you rushed over to her car and tossed the few bags you had into the backseat before getting in the passenger seat. "What're you doing here?" You gasped, leaning in to hug your friend.

She returned your affection enthusiastically, then was pushing you off, "Bitch, I'm double parked in the red - we gotta go!" You laughed when she rushed off, heading back to Oxford as she explained, "But you said on the phone your sister wasn't getting you, so I took the liberty of reading between the lines."

"No, I didn't mean it like that - "

"I know you didn't," she grinned, "but I just wanted to get you to campus all the faster, I've missed you!"

"We have three weeks together before the start of summer," you reminded. "Ready for exams?"

"Hardly," she scoffed. "Enough of that! Tell me all about Scotland!"

You spent the rest of the car ride without a single thought spent on Felix - all too appreciative for friends. Until you got back to the dorms, that is. You'd been there all of an hour before there was a knock at the door and when Cassandra opened it, she glanced up and down the hall in confusion, not seeing anyone - but a bouquet of flowers caught her attention.

"Well, this is cute," she mused, picking up the flowers from the floor and closing the door. "Someone left flowers? Ew, bet they're from Jason - he's been begging me to get back together."

You didn't bother reminding her they were the same Felix always sent you. You just nodded and said they must've indeed been for her since nobody knew when you were coming back. Yet something in your stomach churned, knowing this was no coincidence, you knew they were from Felix, and the idea made you oddly... Warm.

You didn't want to be touched by the small gesture, but it was sweet. Reminded you of the good times between you and Fi. You felt your guts twist, realizing how much you missed him. None the less, you never said a word.

The following day was as normal as it could've been. People were looking both happy to see you and exhausted from prep work before final exams. You understood, having completed yours; all that was left was to write up a report to your dean and other department heads and present it. You spent your days in the library while everyone was in class, and while there, you were surprised to see Felix hunched over a set of books.

You didn't approach him, just chose a separate table and got comfortable. You were in the zone for a solid hour before a shadow loomed over you, making you jump when a hand met your shoulder. "Sorry, sorry," Felix rushed, hands held in defense. "Just thought I'd give you this - you seemed really focused."

You blinked when he set a blueberry muffin down. The gesture made you smile, "You remembered?"

For every study session, you had a blueberry muffin to munch on.

"'Course I do," he nodded rapidly. "Remember everything about you, love. And these were always your favorite, right?"

"Yeah," you breathed. "Uh, thanks, Fi, this was nice of you."

"Seemed really focused, wanted to make sure you ate," he half-smiled. "I didn't mean to interrupt, uh, j-just wanted t'say good luck on your presentation."

Your heart clenched when he walked away back to his table, not once looking up at you as he worked. He really only meant to give you the muffin, which surprised you - Felix was terribly persistent, and for some reason, you actually felt sad that he wasn't vying for your attention or forgiveness.

This felt like a reality check, reminding you that you were truly broken up. So, you just sniffled and focused again, nibbling on the muffin as you revised your report. You hated the tension, the distance, the disturbing idea that while gone, he had been with countless other girls. You especially hated that you began regretting leaving for a year, feeling as if you created this situation by leaving room for Felix to seek attention elsewhere.

You knew it wasn't the truth - this wasn't your fault. You weren't the one who decided to implode your relationship, to be unfaithful in the least bit; and seeking higher educational opportunity wasn't grounds for anyone to cheat. It felt entirely unfair; you were in the same position as Felix, alone in another country, missing your friends and family, and yet, YOU never sought attention - emotional or physical - in any way from anyone else.

You at least had a sense of loyalty. But at the same time, you tried to validate that this was "the best years of your lives" and Felix was a young, hot, rich boy. Why wouldn't he bask in the attention of others? He always had and it felt wrong to crucify him for being a lad with hormones.

You began to wonder, did you overreact? Of course you didn't!

But you missed him immensely.

For the three weeks left in the semester, Felix would leave flowers at your dorm room, brought you little treats, never impeded on your space, and just made himself known without being overwhelming. You thought it was endearing without giving him too much credit after his betrayal. For three weeks, he was sweet, kind, soft spoken, and from what you understood, turned reclusive - refusing any party invitation, even backing out of pub meetings.

He wasn't hanging with friends, drinking, distracted with girls. According to local gossip, if you could put stock into the words, this new behavior started right after Christmas; after your very public break-up.

You were mildly intrigued by his change of attitude, but didn't confront it. You felt distance was necessary for healing, yet there was no denying your love that still festered - and maybe, the idea that Felix was truly remorseful and loved you, too.

It all came to a cultivation on the day of your presentation. To say you were nervous was an understatement - pacing the entire night before, going over what you were going to say, making final revisions; driving Cassandra up the wall, but she was still supportive.

That morning, she left early for her own ventures, but made sure to help you pick out an outfit. It was something smart, it complimented your figure in a professional manner and made you feel powerful and like a "real" adult.

You packed your bag and walked to your college's lecture hall, getting there about 20 minutes early to set up your materials and run through your notes one last time. When your dean and other professors entered to settle in their seats at the front, you heard the upper backdoor open. When you looked up, you were shocked - like, actually shocked - to see Felix sitting up there with Cassandra, Farleigh, your parents and sister.

You tried not to dwell on their presence, but suddenly, knowing Felix was there to support you, you didn't feel so nervous anymore. Something about his viewing of your final project made you a little more confident, quelling your nausea as you cleared your throat and started your oral presentation that had a guided visual and 20-page report.

When you finished, you were grinning. Your deans applauded you, and from the back, so did your friends and family; in fact, Felix was on his feet, clapping with vigor. You handed over the flash-drive that housed your visuals and then your bound essay report, shaking the professors hands, and letting them leave.

When you turned, your family had descended the auditorium stairs and your friends were trailing after.

"Oh, you brilliant girl!" Your father gushed, wrapping you in a huge hug. "My perfect, most special girl! That was amazing!"

"Thanks, Daddy," you giggled. "What're you guys doing here?"

"Oh, Felix called," your mother informed, petting hair off your shoulder in a calming motion. "Glad he did, we're so proud of you."

"I didn't even know peers could sit in," you admitted.

"Apparently, they're not, but you know, Felix has a way with rules," your father sighed, shaking his head in amusement. "Thank God you got your mother's intelligence, fear you'd be shit outta luck if you had mine, eh?"

This triggered a round of other compliments from your loved ones; sister and Cassandra both beaming at you in pride, everyone offering their compliments on specific sections of your presentation to prove they really, truly had been listening. You felt bashful, waving them off out of embarrassment, and then you agreed to attend dinner for a celebration - your mother informing you that the summer would be spent in a French villa and details were to be discussed at the meal. But first, you noticed Felix still sitting high up in the lecture hall and promised you meet everyone at the dorm later.

When the hall cleared, you sighed and slowly made your way up to where Felix lingered; his form fidgeting nervously the closer you got. You dropped to the seat beside him with a deep sigh, ready to confront everything, when he offered a decently large bouquet of familiar flowers. "Congrats, love," he whispered. "Was really well-done, even if I didn't know half of what you were sayin'."

You accepted the flowers, petting the petals gingerly, then asking in a low whisper, "Felix?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"I know how important this was for you, I asked them all to come so we could support you, knowin' you were nervous - "

"No," you interrupted, turning in your seat to face him. "Why'd you have to go and ruin us? Why wasn't I enough?"

He swallowed thickly, "It wasn't you that wasn't enough."

"Huh?"

"Think I felt insecure," he admitted. "You were at Edinburgh, bettering yourself and I think I got scared that you'd love it there so much, you know, that... You'd leave. Leave Oxford, leave England, leave... Me. So, I just... I don't have any excuse, honestly, love. I know I fucked up, but I think my fear was being projected in the worst way..."

You nodded, "Do you regret it?"

"Every fuckin' day."

"Any plans for tonight?"

"What?" He blinked in shock.

"You wanna come to dinner with us? I mean, you went through the trouble of gettin' everyone here - and I know you must've bribed someone to let them watch."

His cheeks reddened, chuckling nervously, "It wasn't... I didn't... All right, yeah, I had to pay off the custodian - he unlocked the door for us."

"Mhm," you smirked. "So? Dinner?"

"Are you sure?"

You nodded, "You made a mistake... A huge one, but a mistake none the less. We've had time apart, and I've learned, I don't want to be without you. My life is far more interesting with you in it and I feel less alone. So, if you want, I'd like for you to come to dinner with us, maybe work on our friendship again. See where things go?"

"As long as you're okay with it."

"I'm the one inviting you, yes, I'm okay with it," you chuckled at his nerves, standing, and offering your hand. "C'mon, Mum says we're spending the summer in France - maybe we can convince her to invite you, too."

"Doubt Cassandra would let that happen," Felix mused, shouldering his bag and taking your hand - instantly lacing your fingers together.

"Oh, on the contrary, she might like it; it'd give her something to do."

"What's that? Makin' me her personal punching bag?"

"Exactly," you grinned, squeezing his hand.

"Hey," he paused you before you could exit the auditorium, looking sadder than when his dog died; bottom lip gently trembling. "I just... I need you t'know, I'm really fuckin' sorry, love. I was an absolute idiot, I fucked this up - broke your trust. I regret nothing more, I was such a fuckin' arsehole, and I don't want to be without you, either. I realized I'm not myself without you, that me without you doesn't feel right - "

"Hey," you halted his rambling, "I can't tell you it's okay, Fi, because it's not, but your atonement is appreciated. We've been friends for so long, I don't think I want to walk away entirely - so, let's just go slow and figure our shit out." He nodded in agreement, letting you lead the way, smirking when you cheekily told him, "Mh, bit of advice though? You could try to get in good graces by payin' for dinner tonight."

"Done and done," he eased, releasing your hand to hang his arm around your shoulders, and just like old times, you raised your hand to lace with his, other wrapping around his waist. The smile didn't fall from Felix's face all night, and by the end of the night, had arranged to stay with your family that summer - Oliver Quick and what could've been a summer at Saltburn far from his mind.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

[reallyromealone]

Maybe a part 3 to resilient?

Resilient chapter 3

Eddie Munson x male reader

Stranger things

Warnings: omegaverse, male reader, angst, Omega male reader, implied mpreg, Eddie feels like Dookie

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

(sons name) excitedly ate his pancakes, (name) looking fondly at his kid as Hopp drank his coffee while reading the morning paper "so ducky, you are gonna hang out with grandpa today, isn't that fun?" (Name) Gently cleaned the pups face as they moved on to their bacon, extra crispy just like (sons name) liked it.

(Sons name) Looked giddy before glancing at his grandpa "what we doin!?" He asked with an aggressive level of excitement and Hopp chuckled "you gotta see bud" his eyes holding a glimmer of excitement as he finished his coffee "now finish your food"

Eddie stood infront of the apartment door, nerves invading his mind as he hesitated to knock, pulling back when he was about to and pacing slightly in a small circle.

"Stop being a bitch munson... Just knock on the door" he took a deep breath and knocked on the door, waiting anxiously for ten minutes before knocking once more "he's not there" a withered old voice said as Eddie turned to see an elderly woman at the door across the hall "do you know where he went?" Eddie asked anxiously and the woman sighed "moved to his dad's or whatever... Good kid, gonna miss 'em" Eddie thanked the woman and left the building, a shuttered sigh escaping his lips as she toyed with his car keys, thankful that no one really cared about him as he got inside his mustang and just rested his head on the wheel.

"Fuck" he was at Hopps? That was practically a death wish for Eddie... Hopp had zero qualms for shooting people off his property and added bonus of Sheriff... Yeah he wasn't going there.

He drove around town, aimlessly looking for any sign of the Omega as he tried not to let anxiety flood him as well as avoid anyone he may know, especially Robin and Steve... The two were a danger within themselves.

(Name) Was happy as he ended his shift, walking to the local toy store to get his toddler a few gifts as he had a fair more amount to work with now that he didn't pay rent, already having decorations hidden in his closet for the party in just a few weeks.

(Name) Looked at the toys his son would like, large building blocks and paw patrol were big contenders as he looked at his options carefully "I am not getting that... To many parts" parts he and his dad will definitely step on eventually and frankly that's not what they needed.

(Name) Was excited as he left the store with a few bags of toys, giddy he got to splurge on his little sunshine.

He wasn't expecting to lock eyes with Eddie... He always thought of this day... The day he would eventually see him, have something witty to say or maybe be cool and put together and make Eddie regret hurting him like he did...

But all he did was stare, throat tight and body suddenly freezing cold as Eddie looked like a sad puppy "can... Can we talk?" Eddie said softly, (name)s breathing uneven as he felt himself grow dizzy with anxiety... Suddenly he felt like the helpless teen he was almost four years ago.

It was extremely tense as they sat before one another in the back of a small diner, coffees infront of both of them, neither speaking for a solid ten minutes.

"So... You're back" (name) whispered as he fidgeted with his fingers, Eddie wanted so badly to reach out to him but he knew that would be a terrible idea "I am... Wayne showed me the letters... I-I didn't know" (name) just stared at him coldly, anger flooding through him "yet you still did what you did" (name) whispered, voice shaking with anger as he looked Eddie in the eye "never did you think to believe me, to listen to me... But now suddenly I matter? I don't care if you didn't know, I will never forgive you" (name) seethed, a strength rushing through his veins that he didn't know he had and Eddie looked gutted at his words. Good.

"You sent me a cease and desist, I don't understand why you are talking to me since you clearly despsie me" (name) was more confident as he leaned back "after all, I'm just a gold digger and a whore who wants to earn THE Eddie munsons favor again" paraphrasing Eddie and his band mates + parts of the gangs words and Eddie looked like he was killed over and over again "I am so sorry... I'll cancel the cease and desist! I-I just wanted to make amends... Meet my son..."

"You can meet him but know I will never forgive you..." (Name) Said coldly "you can even do a DNA test if you want... Make sure you are actually the father of a whores pup" (name) knew he was the dad, (sons name) was literally a mini Eddie down to his smile but god did he want to rub salt in the wounds.

"I have to go, I have things I need to go do, I'll let you know when he and myself are ready to see you" the Alpha shakily handed (name) his number, he watched as (name) lifted bags up "goodbye, Munson" (name) said coldly and left Eddie in the diner, coffees untouched.

(Name) Rushed to his car, his dad giving him his old truck to drive and drove off, unsure where as he reeled at what just happened, god he was shaking.

He got home, sitting in the driveway as he felt anger and anxiety flow through him, he avoided ANYTHING Eddie related for almost four years and bam! There he was with a shitty apology and god (name) felt like he vindicated his past self for telling off his ex, fuck Eddie Munson frankly.

(Name) Left the toys in the car, unsure if his kid and dad were home, not wanting to risk it as he unlocked the door "YOU HOME!" (sons name) Squealed as he ran towards his dad, (name) smiling as he lifted the pup in his arms "so are you my little firecracker!" (Sons name) Gently bonking his forehead against his dams, having learned cats do it do it was his new favorite thing "how was your day with grandpa?" (Name) Asked as he walked into the kitchen area where he saw cookies and Joyce along with his siblings "what are you two doing here?" He knew Joyce had gone to go see them but... "Mom got us, we can't miss our favorite nephews birth" will said softly and (name) smiled stupidly before looking at his son "they came just to see you!"

When (sons name) went down for his nap, (name) spoke of the meeting with Eddie to his family as he nibbled on a cookie "he apologized to me and all that but god I just wanted to beat him with the mug... How dare he act remorseful when he was so cruel to me" how dare he expect that sympathy and empathy when he denied (name) it all those years ago, (name) crushed the cookie in his hand as he grew more angry, thankfully wearing scent blockers so no one had to smell the death stench of an angry Omega.

"So are you going to let him meet (sons name)?" Joyce would support anything (name) decided as her step son sighed "...I- I will let him meet him but on my terms... I plan on meeting him again and maybe bring Steve when bringing my terms... Everything is about (sons name)s comfort"

(Name) Spent the night putting the terms together, thinking of anything needed.

Then he sent off the text for a meeting to set boundaries with a deep sigh.

He didn't know if he wanted his son to have Eddie in his life but he knew it wasn't fair to his pup... Didn't mean he liked it though.

[forever-rogue]

We’re Magic

AN | Here we have an early morning shower idea come to fruition. Basically - friends to one time lovers to co-parents to ?? Enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language, Mentions of Sex and Pregnancy

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 4.2k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Come on Ducky, we’ve gotta go!” you grabbed your young son’s backpack and tried to herd him towards the door. He came bounding the hall, his dark mop of curls bouncing with each step. He quickly flopped himself down onto the floor by the front door, and pulled on his small sneakers. You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm for…well, everything. He was such a sweet, happy kid that it served to make you happy as well, “did you put everything you need in your backpack?”

“Yes,” he nodded, slowly creating bunny ears to tie his laces. When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he hopped to his feet and took the backpack from your hands, “come on, mama! We gotta go!”

You snorted in amusement as he echoed your words, opening the door so you both could go to the car. You got him all settled and buckled in before going to the driver’s seat and taking a moment to breathe. Herding around a five-year-old with the energy of ten kids was a lot at times. 

“Ready to go?” 

“Mhmm,” he was already staring out of the window at the passing scenery, “do you think daddy will read my new book to me tonight?”

“I don’t think, I know he will,” you imagined the two of them would be equally enthused, “daddy loves reading and I happen to know that the book you picked out is one of his favorites. He’s going to be so excited.”

“That’s good,” you caught his eye in the rearview mirror and gave him a smile, “I wish you could be there too.”

You heart twanged at that and you hesitated for a moment so you didn’t blurt out me too. You tried to keep your expression and tone as even as possible before nodding, “we’ll see, baby. Maybe one day soon we can both put you to bed together.”

“Okay,” the smile on his face reminded you so much of his father. You’d make it happen somehow - the idea of disappointing your son was too much to bear.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Emery held onto your hand as you knocked on the apartment door. A rush of nerves washed over you as you listened for his familiar footsteps. A few moments of silence passed before the door slowly opened.

“Daddy!” the boy immediately dropped your hand and ran and jumped into his father’s arms.

“Emery!” he held onto him tightly, giving him a tight squeeze as the boy threw his arms around his neck, “I missed you, baby.”

“‘missed you too,” he giggled as his father placed giant, sloppy kisses to his cheeks before setting him back down, “did you make pancakes?”

“Blueberry and chocolate chip,” he confirmed as Emery cheered, “why don’t you go to the kitchen and I’ll be right there. I want to talk to mama for a moment.”

“Okay,” Emery turned back to you and hugged your legs tightly as you ran a hand through his soft curls, “bye mama, I love you!”

“I love you too, Ducky,” you kneeled to give him a kiss, “remember your manners and don’t forget about your new book.”

“I won’t!” he took his backpack from you before taking off towards the kitchen. You watched him go, shaking your head in amusement. 

You let out an amused sigh before standing back up, “hey Eddie.”

“Hey,” he leaned against the doorframe, calm and confident as always as he offered a soft smile, “anything important I missed or need to know?”

“Nah,” you shook your head, “you would have known already, trust me. Although he did get a new book he’s super excited to have you read to him, so be prepared.”

“Consider me equally excited,” he grinned as a moment of silence fell over the two of you, “how are you doing?”

“I’m alright,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “just, you know, same old same old. How about you, Eddie?”

“Same, good, yeah,” you could both tell there was more you both wanted to say but neither of you was able to take that to the next step, “it’s good to see you.”

“You see me every other week and or more,” you laughed softly as he just shrugged, “we share a child after all.”

“But we were friends before that,” he reminded you gently, “and I’d like to think we’re still friends. Even now.”

“We are,” you promised, blinking back the few tears that had started to well up, “of course we are…”

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, reaching over to brush a few rogue locks of hair out of your face, “everything all right?”

“No - I-I mean yes,” you insisted gently, “I have to go…I, umm, I’ll see you in a few days. Have fun and let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course,” he watched as you turned around to start walking back to your car, “hey - you let me know too, okay? Anything.”

“I will, Eddie,” you held up your hand in a small wave before slowly walking away. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever fully be over your feelings for him. 

It had been years and it hadn’t happened…but maybe one day. Maybe.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few weeks had passed since your…interesting interaction with Eddie. You wouldn’t have called it bad or anything, just…different. The two of you both seemed to keep your distance a little more than normal coming solely about your son. Despite the fact that two of you didn’t hang out or talk a ton anymore, you were missing him. What he had said was right - you’d been friends first for years before you had Emery and you were still friends. Things were just different - complicated. 

This weekend however it would be impossible to avoid Eddie and that worried you just a little bit. It was Steve’s daughter’s eighth birthday and the entire gang and then some were going to be at the Harrington household to celebrate. Naturally, you and Eddie would be there with Emery. It would be fine…right? Right. It was just hanging out with your friends and having your kids hang out and play. What could possibly go wrong?

And it was fine, really, until you volunteered to help clean up the backyard when the majority of everyone else had gone home. You and Eddie were still there along with Robin and Dustin, Steve and wife Samantha and the kids. It was getting late and you didn’t want to leave them to clean up the entire mess so you’d offered to help contain some of the chaos out back. 

You just hadn’t heard Eddie come out back with you. Until you heard a noise behind you, causing you to startle, “Eddie! Jesus, you scared me!”

“Sorry sweetheart,” he smiled sheepishly as you tried to ignore how your heart practically skipped a few beats at the little pet name, “can I help?”

“Of course,” you handed him one of the trash bags and the two of you fell into silence as you worked to clean up the mess. With the two of you working together, it didn’t take long for some order to come back and you sat down on the deck with a small plop, “let’s have Emery’s next birthday party at some other place we’re not responsible for cleanup.”

“I’m sure he’d love that,” Eddie agreed as he sat down next to you. He gently bumped his shoulder into yours causing you to laugh softly at him. You’d missed this, getting along so effortlessly and easily with him. He cleared his throat softly causing you to look at him curiously, “hey, what’s been going on, huh? Is everything okay with us?”

“Of course,” but your answer came too quickly to be entirely true. He waited for you to go and you knew he wouldn’t just let it go, “we’re okay, Eddie. I’ve just been thinking…I guess.”

“About…?”

“Emery…us,” you swallowed thickly, “I…were….did you hate me when I got pregnant?”

“What!?” he barked with laughter for a moment, unable to tell if you were joking or not. Judging from the serious expression on your face, he could tell you weren’t, “w-wait, what do you mean? Of course I didn’t hate you…I could never hate you.”

“But we were best friends,” the corner of your mouth pulled up as you shrugged, “and we just…it was one time and I got pregnant and now we have a son.”

“First of all, you’re still my best friend,” he promised and that set your heart at ease, “and yeah, it was a one time thing that happened when we were both going through it, but in case you forgot, it takes two to get pregnant. It was just as much on me, if not more so. And the son we have? He’s the best fuckin’ kid ever and he’s the best thing that ever happened to me, along with you.”

“Eddie,” you couldn’t help the teary-eyed smile that crossed your features, “that’s really…I feel the same way. There have been times when I wondered if the right thing to do would have been to get an abortion, and if you wanted me to and just never said anything.”

“I would have supported you with whatever you wanted to do,” he reached for your hand and tenderly took it in yours and gave it a squeeze, “and I never secretly hoped you’d get an abortion. I was scared shitless when you found you were pregnant and I never thought I could handle it, but at the same time the idea of being a dad and having that kid with you made it not nearly as scary. It made me excited and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“You’re an amazing dad Eddie,” you squeezed his hand in return, “and an excellent co-parent.”

“So I’ve been told!”

“Oh? By who? Got some other kids I don’t know about?”

“Nah,” he shook his head fervently, “just ours. You’ve told me that before, you know.”

“Well, it’s still true,” you turned your body and angled yourself so you were closer to him.

“And you’re an excellent mother,” he leaned in so your faces were only a few inches away from each other, “and the best co-parent too.”

“Thank you…”

“But tell me,” he reached over and gently brushed his knuckles along your cheek, “what’s still going on? I know there’s more you’re not telling me everything…”

“Ummm…” you leaned in closer and you were almost positive that he did the same thing. The tips of your noses brushed and oh my god you were sure he was going to kiss you. And you wanted him to…just as desperately as you wanted to kiss him. 

But then -

“Mama! Daddy!” the sliding glass door and Emery ran out, causing the two of you to quickly pull apart. Eddie’s cheeks were a bright pink as your own face felt incredibly hot and you felt so flustered. Meanwhile, your son didn’t seem to realize that he’d interrupted anything at all, “Uncle Steve said we can have some cream! Can I have ice cream?”

“Sure Ducky,” Eddie beamed at him, “go and get some, we’ll be right inside.”

“Who am I going home with tonight?” he asked, those big brown eyes wide and innocent as ever. You exchanged a look with Eddie and both of you seemed panicked.

“You can go with whoever you want, baby,” you gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. There wasn’t really a strict schedule with the two of you, and he usually ended up spending equal time with both of you.

“I wanna go with you and daddy,” he pouted, the expression on his face so similar to his father’s, “can we all go home together?”

Alright, now you weren’t sure what to say. You decided to make a decision and if Eddie didn’t agree or like it, he would have to speak up. But you hated seeing the upset look on Emery’s face, “sure, baby. Maybe daddy can come home and stay with us at the house tonight?”

Eddie looked at you to make sure you were fully sure of what you were saying. You gave him a slight nod before he practically beamed at you, “of course I can! I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

“Yay!” he hugged the two of you before turning back to run inside, “I’m gonna get ice cream and tell Uncle Steve!”

You watched him disappear back into the house and the two of you exchanged a nervous laugh, “you really sure, sweetheart?”

“It’s like you said, Eddie. We’re still friends and he’s our kid. And I hate seeing him upset.”

“Me too,” he agreed, “it’s the worst. He’s got this little…baby cow eyed thing going on and I can’t handle it. He’s just so…adorable and I’m not biased just because he’s ours.”

“His expression is the exact same as yours,” you pointed out, “why do you think I’ve never been able to say no to you?”

“Ahh,” he slowly stood up and held his hand out to help you up, “we’ll figure it out when we get home, yeah?”

“Of course,” a million things were running through your mind and all of them landed back to how much you loved the two of them, “we always do.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time the three of you got to your small house in the suburbs of Indianapolis, Emery was already halfway to sleep. Eddie gingerly took him out of the car and carried him inside.

"'m tired," the small boy said through a yawn, "will you tuck me in?"

"Duh," Eddie teased as he started walking to his room. You nodded when he glanced back to make sure he wasn't overstepping any boundaries, which he wasn't of course, "come on, Ducky. Let's get you to dreamland."

It didn't take long to get his teeth brushed and into pajamas and Eddie tucked him just how he liked. Before he left the room, Emery called out to him, "daddy?”

"Yes, bud?"

"Will you be here in the morning?" His voice sounded so small and unsure that it made Eddie’s heart break slightly. He knew that all his son wanted was for his parents to be together. He’d expressed that very same thing to him multiple times before. Eddie wondered if he’d ever told you the same thing, “we can all make breakfast together and watch cartoons!”

And if he was being completely honest - Eddie wanted the exact same thing. He’d been in love with since you were fuckin’ children. That had never changed, even when your one night hookup resulted in you getting pregnant. Back then he wanted to tell you that he was in love with you, and that he wanted to be a family together. But he could never tell if you felt the same way so he brushed it all to the side and decided to work on himself and be the best father he could be. He’d always have you in his life and that was the best thing of all - you and Emery. 

“Yeah, Ducky,” Eddie promised him, “I’ll be right here. Get some sleep, okay? I love you lots and lots.”

“Lots and lots,” he yawned before reaching for his stuffed puppy dog, “goodnight, daddy.”

He turned off the light and gently closed the door, before taking a moment to compose himself. The kitchen light was still on so he padded down the hall towards, trying to figure out how to even convey everything that was buzzing around in his head. 

“Hey,” you were drinking a glass of wine and had already pulled another glass for him, “fancy a drink?”

“Sure,” he watched as you poured him a glass and handed it towards him, leaning against the counter, “Emery asked if I’d be here in the morning. He wants all of us to make breakfast together and watch cartoons. I-I can just head out in a little bit and come back around seven…if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to leave,” you scoffed at even the mere suggestion of him having to make the same trips for no reason, “there’s the guest room. And of course we can do all that tomorrow, it sounds fun! Maybe we can take him to the zoo later on or something. He’s been asking to go.”

“Y-yeah,” his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest at the idea of spending all that time together as a family, “that sounds great!” 

“He’s been asking for this a lot,” you admitted after taking a big gulp of the sweet wine in your hand, “to spend more time together as a family.”

“I think it’s hard for him to understand,” Eddie said softly, “that we’re not together. It’ll get easier as he gets older…hopefully.”

“Yeah,” you swallowed the lump that welled up in your throat, “but I think that could be fun too…and good for him. He knows we care about each other.”

“We do…” it was so much more than just caring for each other. So much more, “listen-”

“Were you going to kiss me earlier?” and there it was. You couldn’t hold it back any longer - you had to know. 

“I…” he could have lied…but that wasn’t him and honestly? He was so tired of hiding all of his true feelings, “yes. I was going to kiss you.”

“Oh okay,” your mind was reeling as you processed what he had just said and your lack of response caused Eddie to panic and think he said the wrong thing, “I was going to kiss you too. I wanted to.”

“You…you wanted to?”

“Yeah,” you glanced at him for a brief moment and him smiling with a light pink flush creeping into his cheeks, “I’ve been thinking and…fuck, I probably shouldn’t say this but I just, I want to get it out there. Eddie, I’m…I’ve…love. I-I love you.”

“I love you too…” he was trying to figure out if you meant you loved him as your best friend or as the father of your child or if you meant the third option which was that you were in love with him and loved him in all the ways. 

“No, you don’t understand…I’m in love with you,” that was almost two decades of stress removed from your shoulders and you felt so much lighter. It was out in the open now and whether or not anything came of it, the secret was out, “and yeah…now you know.”

“How long?” his response didn’t give you a lot of hope, but then again, you weren’t totally sure what you’d been expecting, “honestly.”

“Since we were like twelve,” your voice was so gentle that he almost didn’t hear it but he did - he’d always heard you, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for, sweetheart?”

“I don’t want to make things weird between us,” you shrugged nervously, “but it’s just…that sometimes I can’t think about anything else, especially when Emery’s asking why we don’t live together and why we’re not like the other parents. I just think about it all the time and then think about how much I fucked it all up!”

“What did you fuck up? You haven’t done anything wrong,” he set his glass down and shuffled so he was standing in front of you and looking at you curiously, “tell me.”

“When we had sex,” you hadn’t even realized tears had run down your cheeks until he wiped them away, “and I got pregnant - I should have told you then. And maybe things would be different now.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve never noticed that I’m in love with you too?” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his, “I think I was fourteen when I realized…took me a little bit to catch up.”

“What?”

“Mhmm,” he trailed his fingers along your jaw, “I just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way. When you told me you were pregnant, it was the scariest day of my life…but then I realized things would be okay. There’s no one else I’d rather have a kid with. It was never just sex for me, and it never would have been. Not with you, not with the girl of my dreams. And I thought maybe that would have been the start of our own family. But I never knew if you felt the same way so-”

“I never said anything,” you finished for him and he nodded in agreement. Your mind was reeling with everything he had just said but also stuck on girl of my dreams, “so…have we just been idiots this whole time?”

“I guess so,” he let out a nervous breath as you giggled, “I don’t think our son was so oblivious though. Somehow I think he’s always known.”

“Smart kid.”

“He takes after you,” Eddie joked as you snorted in amusement.

“Well, he looks just like you,” you teased, “imagine being pregnant for nine months and giving birth to your best friend slash baby daddy’s clone.”

“At least you don’t hate me,” he offered as you playfully rolled your eyes, “I have a comment I could make right now but I’m not sure how well it’ll go over.”

“Try me.”

“We’ll make sure the next one looks like you,” he seemed hesitant but when you started laughing he relaxed and laughed too. You ended up looking at him with wide, gentle eyes, “may I kiss you now?”

“For real this time?”

“For real,” he took your face in his hands and studied you for a few, long moments before he pressed his lips to yours. His large, strangely soft and rough hands settled on your waist as you looped your arms around his neck. You let him pull you closer, and found it so easy to kiss him. It was even better than you remembered, and it felt like everything. 

Neither of you wanted to pull apart and refused to do so until you both needed a breath of air. Shy smiles and nervous laughs were exchanged as he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“So, ugh…” you took one of his long curls and wrapped it around your finger, gently playing with it, “umm…we have a lot of stuff to talk about, I think.”

“We do,” he took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “we do.”

“But, if you don’t want to spend the night in the guest room,” you bit your lip, “you can stay with me in my room.”

“Yeah?” he perked up at the idea. It wasn’t even that his mind immediately went to sex - he wanted to spend every and any bit of time with you that you’d allowed. The sheer intimacy of being together was something so special, “I-I’d like that.”

“C’mon,” you took his hand and started to pull him down the hall to your own room, “it’s late and I’m honestly just tired. And if you want to change, I’ve, ugh, still got some of your clothes.”

“Little thief,” but in reality he was touched that you still held onto them, like you’d always wanted a bit of him around. You shrugged innocently as you pulled him inside and shut the door, “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” you leaned up and kissed him, “and I like hearing it. And now being able to say it freely, “I love you too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next morning you woke up to a small knocking before the bedroom door slowly opened, “mama?”

You sat up slightly and found Emery in the doorway, halfway to looking upset. 

“Hey Ducky,” you motioned for him to come over, “what’s wrong?”

“I can’t find daddy,” he pouted, “he said he’d be here.”

“‘m right here, buddy,” Eddie popped up next to you, causing Emery’s entire face to light up, “I promised you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Can I come in and lay with you?” he was already crawling into bed as you nodded, sliding his way in between you and Eddie. He got under the covers and made himself comfortable before grinning at the two of you, “I like being with both of you. Can we do this all the time?”

“I like it too,” Eddie brushed his hair off his forehead, “I don’t know about all the time but mama and I can talk about it.”

“Maybe we’ll stick to weekends,” you raised an eyebrow at the two of them but they both just started giggling. It wasn’t hard to understand why these two were the lives of your life, “but we’ll see.”

“I love you, mama,” he pretended to squirm away as you kissed him, “I love you, daddy.”

“We love you too,” Eddie looked at you before mouthing the same sentiment to you. You mouthed it right back, without hesitation, “now - let’s get some sleep before we make breakfast and watch cartoons.”

You weren’t sure exactly how things were going to end up or turn out, but you knew that it would be something wonderful. 

You finally had everything you had ever wanted, all in one bed.

 Everything else would fall into place as it was meant to.

[void-wolfie]

Memorial Day

summary: You spend Memorial Day with your family and Jenna. However, the mention of your father brings back some unwanted feelings. [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!Reader

words: 2.4k

tw: loss of a parent, brief mentions of drinking

a/n: hope this is okay anon, once I started writing it kind of just took a life of its own. I'm not super satisfied with it, but this is as good as it's gonna get right now, maybe I'll revisit the prompt one day if inspiration strikes.

You slammed the can down on the table, wiping your mouth and chin with the back of your sleeve, "Beat that, losers! Woo!" You spun around, arms up in the air in victory. You noticed Jenna smiling at you from across the yard, watching you and the boys as she chatted with your mom and aunts.

Your older brothers bet that you couldn't beat them at shotgunning beer. Not only did you prove them wrong, but you were twenty bucks richer for it.

Memorial Day weekend. One of the few weekends of the year when your whole family would gather for a barbecue. The dads would grill out while the moms sat by the pool and chit-chatted, which gave the kids time to get into trouble goofing off. Uncle Mike would even go out and buy a bunch of fireworks to let off at the end of the day. All in all, your relationship with the holiday was very much love-hate.

The force of someone jumping on your back pulled you from your thoughts. Despite the lack of warning, you managed to hook your arms under a slender pair of legs as a set of pale, freckled arms wrapped around your neck.

"Ducky!" You shouted excitedly, greeting your younger cousin who was hanging off your back, "What're you doing back there, troublemaker?"

"I missed ya!" Your cousin, Devon was his actual name, hugged you a little tighter as you carried him.

"I missed you too, buddy,"

"Airplane?"

"Of course, hold on tight," you made sure to hold his legs tight before zooming around the backyard. You ran around the yard, making loops and different zigzags as he made little airplane noises behind you.

You didn't have to look behind you to know he was having the time of his life; his little giggles and shouts were confirmation enough.

You were twelve when Devon was born. He wasn't the biggest kid, always a little smaller than the other kids his age. But something about his scrappy attitude wormed its way into your guarded heart. He was by far one of your favorite cousins.

You slowed to a stop, breathing heavily after so many laps with Devon on your back. "I'm getting tired, Ducky. How about we rest for a little?"

"Okay," he chirped, hugging your back a little tighter, refusing to get off just yet.

You trotted back over to Jenna. She'd long ditched the conversation between your mom and aunts, instead choosing to watch you give Devon his piggyback ride, which he clearly adored.

You didn't miss the way Jenna's eyes followed you the whole time, watching as you carried Devon around, laughing and making airplane noises. You found it adorable how she couldn't take her eyes off you.

"Dev, you remember Jenna," You watched the way Jenna smiled at Devon. You noticed over the years she was always great with little kids, always knowing just what to say or how to act.

"Hi," Devon gave a shy wave, hiding behind your back as you still carried him.

"Hi, Devon," Jenna waved back to him. You could feel him smile as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"Hey, Ducky, why don't you see if Trevor wants to go swimming with you, yeah?"

"Ok!" Devon hopped off your back and raced inside to find Trevor, another one of your cousins just a few years older than Devon.

You wrapped your girlfriend in your arms, kissing her before burying your face in the crook of her neck.

"I love you," You whispered, your lips lightly brushing against her skin.

"I love you too," she placed a chaste kiss on your temple, letting you relax in her arms.

"Get a room, you two!" One of your older brothers shouted, ruining your little moment of peace. Instantly all eyes were on you and Jenna; you couldn't help but shoot your brother a deadly look.

"Sure," you smirked, untangling yourself from Jenna, "just as soon as you get a girlfriend."

There were snickers and laughs from the adults. Everyone loved to pester your bother about when he was going to get a girlfriend of his own. He was, as you liked to word it, chronically bitch-less. You were ahead of him in the girlfriend department, and he was five years older than you. The glare he sent was enough to put you six feet under, but you'd gotten your retribution and that's all that mattered.

"Dinner!" Uncle Josh shouted from the patio, disappearing back inside to help dole out the food. In an instant, everyone headed inside, racing to get food while it was still hot and fresh.

"Alrighty, go dry off," You watched as your cousins made a dash for the pool steps, climbing out to go grab their towels.

They were the youngest of the family, Hailee and Kate, twins just a few years younger than Devon. "And don't run!" You yelled after them, making sure they made it inside without slipping on the wet concrete.

With the twins inside, that left everyone inside but you and Jenna in the pool and your mom by the patio table.

You didn't have any warning as a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Even if you weren't the only ones outside, you wouldn't have to look to know who it was.

"Hey, baby," You interlaced your fingers with hers as she rested her chin on your shoulder.

"You're so good with your cousins, you know that?" She mused, watching the door where the twins had run off.

"Really?" She hummed, nodding the slightest, "Maybe, one day, we could have a little family of our own?"

You were nervous. You'd never really talked about the future before. The two of you were so caught up in the now, you hadn't stopped to think about it. But you knew more than anything you wanted to spend it with her... if she'd let you, of course.

"I'd really like that," You could feel her lips pressed against your shoulder blade, a smile a mile wide as she nestled against you.

"y/n," You looked up to see your mom by the edge of the pool, calling you over.

"Give me one second, love," You made sure to place a kiss on her hand before wading over to your mom, curious as to what she wanted to talk about.

"She's a good one." Your mom nodded to Jenna, who was watching the two of you with curiosity. "Be good to her."

"Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way."

She nodded, smiling at you. You both knew you had meant what you'd said. You loved Jenna. You were utterly and completely enamored by the girl; you'd walk through hell and fight the devil himself for her.

"There's something your dad wanted you to have. I left it on your bed for you."

That confused you. What could he possibly want you to have? And why now? Why today of all days?

"I'm proud of you," She paused as if debating whether to say what she was thinking, "He would be so proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom," you tried not to choke on your words, unsuccessfully so.

You tried to ignore the lump forming at the back of your throat. Your chest tightened at the mention of your father, at the mention of how proud he'd be.

She smiled at you, placing a light kiss on your forehead before heading inside.

You took a deep breath, trying your best to quell that feeling in your chest. You could tell from the rock in your throat and the ache in your heart that you had maybe a minute at most before you would completely break down.

Jenna could sense the shift in your mood. Whatever your mom said upset you. Your head bowed as you stared at the ground, and your shoulders sagged.

Jenna made her way over to you slowly, not sure what to do. "y/n?"

You took another deep breath, rubbing your eyes in hopes she wouldn't notice the tears beginning to form.

"You, ok?" She reached out tentatively, placing her hand on top of yours.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." An obvious lie, but one she decided not to call you out on. "Um, there's something I need to go check, it should only take me a minute or two. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," she could tell you were upset, even though you were doing your best to downplay it.

You weren't one for vulnerability, often hiding your feelings behind a joke or a smile. Despite all the times she reminded you that it was ok not to be ok. If you were this upset, it must be important. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"Uh, I'd rather do it alone if that's okay with you. I can wait if you don't-"

"No, you should go. I'll be fine. I can hang out with Devon and the twins."

"You are the best, you know that,"

"I've been told a time or two," she joked, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you in for a kiss.

"Ewwwww!" The two of you pulled away from each other, turning around to find Devon, Trevor, and the twins spying on you two with grossed-out looks.

Jenna was worried about you. After clambering out of the pool, you went into your room, and you hadn't come out since. You promised only a few minutes, but that was nearly half an hour ago.

"You should go check on her," The sentence pulled Jenna from her thoughts. She hadn't even noticed she'd been staring at the hallway leading to your bedroom door.

She was supposed to be helping your mom with putting away leftovers and cleaning dishes, even though your mom had insisted she'd be fine. She wasn't sure when that had turned into zoning out to think about you.

"I don't know," Jenna wrung her hands nervously, "She asked to be alone..."

Your mom stopped what she was doing, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"She didn't have it easy… growing up. We moved around a lot, and it's hard being the only girl out of four kids."

Jenna nodded, soaking up all the information. You'd talked about your childhood here and there, but not like this. You never really mentioned the nitty gritty details like moving around or how it was to have three brothers.

"What'd she tell you about her father?" Your mom asked. She wasn’t trying to poke or prod at your love life, but that didn't mean she didn't hold a genuine interest.

"Not much," Jenna spun one of the rings on her finger around, a nervous habit she'd picked up over the years, "Just that he was in the military, he'd passed away a few years before we met."

Your mom nodded. She didn't want to tell Jenna everything, that was for you to do in your own time. But that didn't mean she had to leave the poor girl in the dark.

"She's a lot like her father, those two were like two peas in a pod. She might seem tough and strong, but she's just a big teddy bear at heart."

Jenna didn’t know you were more like your father; she’d always just assumed you were more like your mom since you never really brought up your dad. The strong and tough part, though, Jenna had known for a while. You could definitely hold your own if it ever came down to it, but you really were one of the softest, most gentle people she knew. It was one of the many reasons she adored you.

"Just because she asks to be alone, doesn't mean she wants to be alone."

You were sitting crisscross on your bed, tear stains running down your cheeks as you looked at the items spread across your bed.

Your mom had left a letter and a box, no bigger than a shoebox, on your bed. The letter was a note from your dad, one he'd written before being deployed. It was one of those, "if you’re reading this, that means I'm gone" type letters. It was painful to read, bringing a new wave of tears each time you scanned the slanted cursive.

The box was a different story. It had some of his things from before he'd died. His dog tags, the army knife he always kept on him, a bunch of pictures of you and your brothers that he'd taken with him, and a few other things.

You stared at it all, everything splayed across the comforter of your bed. You wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and fall asleep at this point. All the crying had tired you out and your thoughts seemed to run in circles, coming back to the same thing again and again.

You didn't hear Jenna knock on the door. It wasn't till you felt the soft dip in the bed and her hand on your knee that you finally noticed her presence.

"What're you thinking about?" Jenna's words pulled you from your thoughts.

"My dad." You whispered, your voice a bit hoarse from all the crying, "It's not fair... It's not fair that he's gone, and I'm stuck here without him."

"I know, love," she gently pulled you into her lap, letting you bury yourself in her arms as the tears resurfaced.

The two of you stayed like that for a while. She rubbed small circles into your back with her thumb while you cried your heart out.

She hated that you had to go through this. She couldn't even imagine what it was like to lose a parent, one you were so close to at that.

She didn’t know much about your dad, but she could tell he was a good man. She wished she could've met him while he was still around.

It took a while, but eventually, you were out of tears to shed. But you didn't want to move, you just wanted to be with Jenna.

"You wanna lay down?"

You nodded, too exhausted for anything else. Jenna put the stuff back in the box gently, setting it off to the side, on your nightstand. You let her get comfortable on the bed before burying yourself back into her arms. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, your head nestled under her chin as she held you close.

Your mom would peek her head into the room a little while later only to find the two of you fast asleep, curled up in each other's arms. She tossed a blanket over the two of you before leaving, making sure to shut the door on the way out so you wouldn't be bothered.

a/n: this is my longest post yet, and there were so many details I cut out simply because they just felt out of place or weren't necessary. I mean, I could write a whole post on all the behind the scenes details I didn't include. anyways, I absolutely loved writing this family dynamic. Devon is adorable and I love his tiny ass.

[moonydoodlez]

now im thinking about angst (with whatever ending) where lucifer and the reader were already having a not great day and then when he needs something for one of his new creations and he calls for the reader to get it he accidentally calls the reader lilith

Just talk to me

Pairing: Lucifer x F!Reader

Warnings: use of Y/n (once), language, and a dumb nickname

Word Count: 1088

There had been no reason for how the two of you felt that day. Maybe it was something in the air, or the way he slept, or maybe it had just been you. Whatever it was Lucifer had been way more irritable than normal. Everything seemed to tick him off, the way you breathed, the way you said his name, every word that rolled off your tongue seemed to strike a nerve. 

“Just talk to me” You begged as he walked away from you. You watched his figure disappear into the dark hallway as if he had never been there in the first place. You huffed out a breath as he continued to ignore you.

“Whatever” You whispered to yourself as you stared at the workshop door he had disappeared into.

You were certain you hadn't done anything wrong. Constantly going over what had happened in the last 24 hours. You had a lovely dinner and he was a sweetheart. There was nothing wrong, it had been a perfect night. You want to bed in each other's arms, yet the next morning he seemed to hate you. 

You stayed in the living room waiting for him to get over whatever was happening. You waited hours before suddenly a noise caught your attention. A loud crash sounded before his voice broke the silence that happened after. 

“Sweetheart” His voice called out which instantly had you running toward his workshop.

“Yeah what?” You asked worried as you opened the door slowly revealing him sitting on a swivel chair at his work desk. You looked around the workshop noticing papers and little ducks all over the floor. There were mini ducks of you and Charlie and one of alastor that had a fork in it’s head.

“Lilith could you-” He instantly stopped.

“What” You said as it registered whose name he had said. Your face fell as he turned around to look at you. “Oh” You whispered more to yourself. Your eyes fell to the floor as you quickly turned around to walk out slamming the door behind you.

You could hear him calling after you but you had finally understood what was wrong with him. You had always known what they had was serious, it was real. When she left he was heartbroken but you were there to pick up the pieces that she had shattered. You knew she had meant so much to him and deep down you always felt that he would never get over her. Yet somehow he did and he felt that same love but with you. At least you had thought.

“Y/n, Please” He begged. 

You slowly turned toward him. “Is that why you've been ignoring me all day?” You whisper looking him in the eyes. 

“I’m sorry” He whispers clearly wanting to say more but nothing comes out. “I.. I just sometimes.. You know? "he says as his voice cracks.

You take a deep breath as you tilt your head up trying to stop yourself from saying something you’ll regret. “You miss her?” You ask, making eye contact. 

“Please” He begs. “You don't understand” 

“Do you?” You ask again with a harsher tone this time. He stares at you but you can tell what he wants to say and you can tell he won’t admit it.

You shake your head, running your hand across your face. “She left Lucifer” You yell. “She left and she’s not coming back”. Your hands flew to your mouth the minute the bitter words fell off your tongue. 

You watched as his face fell, the hurt instantly taking over his face. His body went slack as he stared at you. 

“Ducky, I'm so sorry,” You whispered. “I don't know what happened.. I would never say that” You walk toward him slowly but he backs up as you take a step forward. 

“But you did,” He whispers. 

“I don't know what to do,” You yell. “I have been wanting you to love me the way you loved her since she was still with you.. Why can’t you fucking understand this” You continue as tears begin to stream down seeming to find no end as they wouldn't stop.

“I love you so much but if you still love another woman more than you could ever love me i’m not sure if this is worth it” You admit as your voice cracks. 

“No. No you can’t fucking do this.. I do love you. So much. More than you think I do” He yells as you sob, finding it hard to breathe. You run your hands through your hair shaking your head.

“My love” He whispers, making you lift your head to look at him. His eyes find yours as he strides toward you quickly.

You didn't realize what he was doing until he pulled you into a hug as you struggled against him “No let go” You cried but he held on tighter and no matter how hard you pushed and kicked he held on until your breathing slowed and you melted into his embrace. 

“I wasn't thinking,” He said calmly, laying his head on yours. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.. I would never purposefully hurt you my love” He begins as he pulls you from the hug to look at your face. His hands slide across your cheeks wiping away the tears. “I love you and you know who's here right now” He says looking at you. You stare at him without saying anything.

“Words. Who's here with me right now” He speaks again, keeping his hands on your cheeks forcing you to look at him.

“Me” You whisper trying to look away but he forces you to look at him.

“Good girl” He says, kissing your nose. You scrunch your nose up causing him to giggle as his hands slide to your waist. “Do you forgive me?” He smiles at you.

You wanted to say no because what he did today had really hurt you but the way he looked at you had you bucking your knees. You glanced away before looking back at him. “Yes” You nod. “I’m sorry too” You shrug, biting your lip.

He gives you a soft smile before pulling you in tightly against his chest as he leaned down. The sweet taste of his lips flooding your mouth as he kissed you slowly. His hands trailing his way through your hair as he pulled you back by a few strands so he could stare into your face.

“I love you” He whispers softly.

Masterlist Lucifer Masterlist

[psychesetra]

luci and alastor with a filipino ! reader

VERY. SELF. INDULGENT. ALASTOR'S WAS A TEST AND SHORT ASF BTW !!!!! LUCI'S WAS POSTED IN THE I LOVE LUCI COMMUNITY SO YEAH!!!!!!!

they say the same thing in filipino but i do think the oneshots are different enough :3

❤ al

your downfall to hell had been rather early, considering your age. a child of the 1900s, you were, yet you died in 1929 to a simple poison. walking around in hell was surprisingly.. normal. like walking down the streets, although with the addition of sinners screaming and.. other, noises. it took years after your death before someone recognizable dropped down. you and alastor had been friends since childhood, though only briefly. you had moved from your home country to new orleans due to your father missing the city, but moved back home after a year after his death. you didn't expect alastor to remember you in hell, let alone the detail that your home country was the philippines. but now, as he shook your hand, he greeted you with a smile not different to the one he had in life. "greetings, and good morning, my dear! it has been a while, has it not?" opening your mouth to reply with a witty remark, you do nearly get to say it before he adds, "or should i say.. magandang umaga, aking mahal na reyna."

(good morning, my beloved queen.) you freeze in surprise for a few moments, processing the fact he had quite literally spoken in your native. you had never cared to teach him, though, so how..? he chuckles, noticing your surprise, and continues, "i decided to make it a point to learn your native after your death, dear! it was a little hard, but it was worth it to see the shock on your face, hm?"

💛 luci !!!!

your death and subsequent arrival in hell was.. unexpected. you were a confusing case, having fallen asleep at the wheel and getting into an accident. ironically, the person you hit did not die, and you.. well, considering you're down in hell, it's mighty obvious. you weren't exactly the most religious person, so maybe divine judgement had been a little harsh on that. but hell.. wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. sure, there was fire and a shit ton of red and screaming, but it was still civilized, at least. but one thing you REALLY didn't expect? to meet the goddamn king of hell. you could hear the christians screaming for mercy when you first saw him, you swear. he was surprisingly friendly, albeit a little awkward (though that was adorable). you honestly wondered how on earth god had put the poor man down in hell all those millennia ago, he was nicer than a lot of people you'd met. really, much nicer, considering he'd cared to learn your native language. you just mentioned your nationality once in a conversation, just a "oh, by the way," that you thought he'd forget. you were sure he didn't know many filipino people like you, so he might not even remember what country you were from. but no, actually. months later, he still remembered, especially after the two of you became somewhat of an item (cue charlie's confusion as to whether or not you are now her parent). but you didn't know all that. weeeeeellll.. at least until this morning. you had woken up a little late this time, and to the smell of pancakes, no less. already, there was a smile on your face. the thought of him tinkering away in the kitchen was one that you found adorable. you started to do a few tasks for the day, bustling around the room, fixing things up. if he could surprise you with pancakes you could at least return the favor by cleaning up a little. later, as you were tidying up a few ducks on the desk (which is to say there were dozens of them), the door creaked open, and the scent of pancakes became noticeably stronger. "gooood morning, duckie!" he greets, setting down the pancakes on his desk with a grin that you think is one of the cutest things you will ever see in your (after?) life. you smile at him, opening your mouth to reply, before he adds, "or, should i say.. magandang umaga, aking mahal na reyna." (good morning, my beloved queen.) his grin seems a lot more smug now, especially when seeing your face of surprise. did he just.. speak in your native? filipino? did he seriously learn how to speak that for you? after a few moments of silence, he seems to get a tad bit nervous. "did i say that right..? i made sure to check a few times before, was my pronounciation off?" he asks, worriedly, mumbling. your surprise disappears the moment he speaks, as your own smile widens. "no, no, you're right, luci. that was wonderful." his face shifts from worry back to happiness, and as he's about to speak, you add, in the same manner as he did, "or should i say, tama ka, aking hari?" (you're right, my king.)

[macfrog]

Ma’am you gotta know you’re driving me crazy waiting for the next part of scom, any hints as to when we might meet duckie 🥹

soon!

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.” He sighs. “I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as shit. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em, can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.” You nod, sniffling. “Mom and Dad,” you whisper. “Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this, baby, I know you can. I know it.” The bathroom blurs from behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale blue with warmer images of tiny hands and feet; of missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed. “Just…don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?” The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.” “Attagirl,” Joel says, “that’s the spirit.”

[glitteringsunshine]

Pairing :

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Reader

( crossover with Madam Secretary)

JETHRO’S  POV:

“Good Morning love” I say caressing Y/N’s hair as she lay against my chest.

“ Good morning Darling.” She says grinding against my hardness , gently stroking it .

We kiss as she runs her fingers through my hair.

“ Sweetheart” she says “ we are gonna be late for work.”

“ Well I can be a bit late”, I say  getting on top of her, rubbing her clit pushing in my fingers inside her pussy. As she got right at the brink at the edge, I pulled my fingers away ,getting up.

“ gonna be late for work” I smirked.

“ Leroy Jethro Gibbs , you get your cute butt over here right now  and fuck me” Y/N fumed.

“ Aren’t  you gonna be late for work ?” I grinned

“ Jethro” she groaned. “ Oh Fuck I can be late one day”.

“ Good” I said going down on her and eating her out. I flicked my tongue up and down, lapping up  her juices. I sucked on her clit and thrust my tongue in her. “ Ohh fuck. Ohh fuck” she moaned “ Jethro fuck. Yeah on yes. Jethro Oh Jethro” she screamed as she came.

“ Yummy . Such a lovely breakfast” I said as  she pulled me up to kiss me. I lined my dick along her pussy , rubbing my tip along her clit. Then rubbing my cock along her pussy a few times I entered her. She pulled me close, wrapping my legs around my waist. I took off her hoodie, well technically mine and nibbled her nipples. This made her clench around my cock as she arched her hips towards me. We both were close. I took her mouth in mine , grabbing her hips and thrusting deep. She came and I followed her. We held each other as we panted against one another.

“ This is a really good morning “ I grinned kissing her forehead.

“ Yep” she giggled as we claimed each other’s  lips.

….

 

Late in the afternoon I saw Y/N walking towards the bullpen.

“ What brings you here love? Miss my cute butt?” I smirked.

“ Jethro” she tried to glare at me, but ended up turning red. “ No silly.” She giggled .” State wants update on the positions of your Navy ships , and the signal intelligence that you have gathered.” “ Though you do have a cute butt.” She chuckled.

“Actually Blake, Jay  and Nadine is also here. This is top priority for state . You know keeping the Indian Ocean and the South China sea safe.”

…..

“Reader’s  POV:

“ So what do you think is up with boss?”Tony said

“ what?” I asked.

“ He is not grumpy. He is smiling, laughing.  I think there’s  a woman .” Tony mused.

“ Yeah boss is so cheerful.  He is being pretty tolerant to Tony’s  nonsense too.” McGee said.

“ You mean less forceful headsmacks?” I chuckled.

“ Less frequent too.” Ziva observed.

“ Maybe it’s the new coffee ?” Palmer mused.

“ Well it still sucks “ I said sipping the bland NCIS coffee.

“ Yeah that’s true” Nick  nodded.

“ Maybe it’s the fresh coat of orange paint on the walls” Kate reflected.

“ Can’t be.” Ellie said .” It’s more tackie”.

“ He looks smitten” Jessica commented. “ Maybe it’s a woman only”

“ He looks like a man in love.” Ducky observed.

“ I tell you it’s a woman” Tony nodded. “  Did you see the hickey peaking out from under his collar.”

Shit ,I am responsible for that hickey. Last night in the throes of passion ,I was pretty wild. There’s  more than one hickey. Good thing they don’t know that.  Atleast mine are hidden by my turtleneck.

“ Well he is really sexy. So hot. Anyone , I mean any woman will love to be with him.” Blake sighed. “ He can get laid anytime he wants.”

I smacked Blake. Well serves him right. Keep your eyes off my Gibbsy.

“ Ouch” he said. “ What was that for?”

Truth was I was jealous when Blake called Gibbs hot and Sexy. I mean I know about how Blake has got a man crush on him . Well Gibbs is hot and sexy , but only I got to call him that.

“ For being stupid. He won’t be smitten with any woman.”

“ So what kind of woman would Gibbs be smitten with. Come on Y/N you read people . Analyse him.”

“ What and get myself smacked in the head.”  I joked. “ Probably someone who likes the smell of coffee and sawdust “ I chuckled , knowing fully well how I like that smell on Gibbs.

“ Come on . Let the man be in love without us butting our heads” Nadine said.

“ Now while you are gossiping , I need to get this file signed by him.” “ Maybe I will ask him who’s  the woman?” I laughed.

I walked into the Director’s  office. Since the director is in a NATO summit , Gibbs is filling in on him.

“ You know you have become the talk of the town” I laughed. “ They think you are so cheerful cause you are in love.”

“ I am in love. I love you Darling.” He said pulling me into his lap.

“ Jethro Rule 12?”

“ Well you work for the State Department so we are okay” he chuckled and kissed me.

“ So it’s okay to make out in the office , I guess” I said   laughing.

“ Yep love” he said as he nuzzled at my neck.

“ So be ready around 7 for our Date” he said. “ We are going to the nice little Chinese place that you love so much.

“ Okay. You will go out first , then I will follow. I will walk around a bit before you pick me up. There are trained investigators who are observing you. We don’t want to get caught do we?” I giggled adjusting his collar. “ Ohh hide that Hickey. Tony already noticed it.”

“ I think I like that Hickey on me” he smirked.

….

 

“Y/N “Nadine  said. “ We are all going to grab dinner? You coming.”

“ Nope , got plans tonight “. I said.

“You have applied your favourite wine lipstick, the smoky eyes, you are going for a date aren’t you?”

“ Yep”

“ From your makeup , I figure you are getting laid tonight.”

“ Yep.” I blushed

“ So who’s  the mystery guy” Blake asked huddling closer with Nadine so others can’t hear.”

“ Mystery Guy” I chuckled.

“ Don’t forget to use a condom”

“ Nadine!”

“ What just make sure that the Dick inside you is shielded. Just tell him to wrap his willy” she laughed.

“ Maybe you could lose the turtleneck, wear something plunging. I have a spare blouse in my bag”.

“ Can’t Nadine, gonna have to wear the turtleneck “.

“ Why? You mean there are hickies?”

“ I mean this Dick rocks my world  and last night he kinda left evidence of it here” I say  rubbing my neck and collarbone.

I saw Gibbs  walking down the stairs. He looked at me and winked in a way no one else notices. I softly smiled ,  biting my lips before I start grinning like an idiot.

“ Hey Boss , wanna grab Dinner”.  Tony asked.

“ Got plans DiNozzo”

“ Wait Jethro, is that a dress shirt that you are wearing? What’s  with a tie?” Ducky asked.

“ Boss ? Is that Cologne ,I am smelling?” Tony asked amused.

Gibbs smirked and made his way to the elevator.

“ I told you it’s a woman” Tony said.

“ Ok guys , while you are speculating on a guy’s love life, I actually got my end of the paperwork done, so off I go, enjoying my love life” I giggled making my way out of the bullpen.”

…

“ I can’t believe you ordered Wine Jethro. I mean you are a total Bourbon and Scotch guy.”

“ Well the wine is for special occasions” he smirked.

“ So what’s the special occasion ?”  I asked.

“ You winning the national book critics Circle award”.

“ It’s just an award.”

“ Well I am proud of you love” he said. “ I want to pamper you”.

He pulled me close and taking my hands into his , he gently bushed his lips against my fingers.

“ Btw what’s up with the Cologne.”

“ It’s for you love”.

“  Well I like it. But I do like sawdust and coffee more” I blushed. “ It’s kind of hot”.

He leaned in , taking my lips into his shoving his tongue inside me.

“ Boss, Y/ N” I heard Tony.

“ Guys” I said embarrassed .

“ So you are with Gibbs?”  McGee asked surprised.

“ You two are playing tonsil tennis so that means ..”Tony trailed off.

“ That means you are Gibbs’ s woman.” McGee concluded.

“ Yep, guys meet the love of my life” Gibbs said holding me close. “ I Love you Y/N.”

“ Ahh I love you so much” I whispered.

“ Wait that means … he is the Dick that rocks your world”

“ Blake” I warned feeling embarrassed.

“ Wow it’s  great .You two are in love.” Abby said excitedly.

“ We had no idea. Right under our noses”Ziva chirped.

“ Well I totally missed the signs. Thinking of it why are you wearing a turtleneck in this weather Y/N.” Kate asked

“ Guys I think we should let the lovers go on with their date. You hold on to her Jethro” Ducky said.

“ I plant to. Forever” Jethro said kissing me on my cheek.

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 11/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

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Lilith: Sign the papers, Lucifer.

Lucifer: Wha- Why?

Lilith: I don't think- This needs to end now. We both knew it won't last for all eternity.

Lucifer: Lily?

Lilith: I'm leaving.

Lucifer: Lilith, please! Talk to me! At least tell me why! How about Charlie! Our daughter, Lily!

Lilith: It’s just better this way. Believe me. You’ll understand someday. And she will too.

Lucifer: Is this because you’re afraid I'll overshadow and control you? That I'll hurt you like Adam did? Because I won’t. Lilith, please. I love you so much. I can step down! You can be the sole ruler of hell is that's what you want. Please.

Lilith: Stop this, Lucifer. Don’t make this harder than it is.

Lucifer: I.....can’t stop you, can't I?

Lilith: No.

Lucifer: I guess you’re the one doing the hurting this time. Is that what you’ve wanted all along?

Lilith doesn’t respond. She leaves. 

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

Lucifer awakens to the scent of Marigolds and the sound of strangled crying. He's vaguely aware of the weight of his body being cradled by someone, their tears falling onto his still form.

With a lot of effort on his part, he commands his vision to clear and the ringing in his ears to subside. Gradually, his surroundings comes into focus, revealing Charlie to be the one holding him, her face contorted with anguish that should never be present on his little girl's face.

'Who did that? Who made my Charlie cry?'

Her words tumble out in a frantic stream, but Lucifer struggles to respond, his voice caught in his throat. It dawns on him that Charlie isn't aware of his consciousness, her attention absorbed by her own distress.

Squinting against the haze of confusion, he realizes she's speaking to someone else entirely.

Charlie: A-angel hurry, please! I don't know what just happened. You're the number I- and I'm sorry please help me!

Lucifer can't hear what Angel was saying on the other end but they're muffled. Each unintelligible word seems to only worsen his daughter's tears, and oh, how he longs to comfort her.

Helplessness washes over him as he wishes to move, to reach out and wipe away his most precious' tears.

'That's what a good dad should do, right? Yeah. Yeah. It's kinda funny how Charlie is the one craddling me right now. I miss her baby days.'

He must have chuckled because Charlie whips her head down to him.

Charlie: Dad! You're awake! Thank you. You're okay, dad, don't worry. I- Angel, he's awake! I don't know! I just found him, oh god, Angel- I thought he-he-

There's frantic voices on the other line, the residents are all probably huddled in the phone attempting to calm Charlie down. Lucifer didn't get to hear what the overlapping voices were saying when the sanctuary's doors fly open revealing the radio demon.

Suddenly, the sanctuary's doors burst open, revealing Alastor. With a keen eye, he spots Lucifer and Charlie, and wasting no time before teleporting to their side in a blink, concern evident as he checks on them both.

Charlie: A-Al, thank god you're here. I- I

Alastor: My dear, you must calm yourself. Breathe.

Charlie: I can't!

Alastor: Yes you can. Count from a hundred backwards.

Charlie: 100, 99, 98.....80... I ca-can't please-

Charlie freezes as a gentle hand touches her cheek, prompting her to lower her gaze. With deliberate tenderness, he reaches for her hand, guiding it to his chest, positioning it over his heart. A silent reassurance pulses beneath her touch, the steady, calming rhythm of her father's heart.

Lucifer: I'm okay, duckie. Feel it. I'm okay. I'm breathing. I'm alive.

Charlie: D-dad.

Alastor: Match his breathing, dear.

After a minute, Charlie managed to calm down enough to form coherent sentences. She reiterates what she walked in on earlier and Lucifer is horrified. His daughter shouldn't have seen that but he's also berating himself. He knew that he shouldn't have told Keekee that Charlie could come. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID-

A snap of a finger stops the start of another spiral.

Alastor: None of that. We will have a talk about this but first, let us go back to the hotel for now. It must be uncomfortable laying on a frozen floor, no?

The King of Hell wants to say something but he knows there's no arguing with a fretting Alastor. Charlie is already outside on the phone again, most likely talking to whoever was at the hotel or maybe the Sins. He's hoping she doesn't call them right away; they're bigger worrywarts than him.

Charlie: -no no. He's fine now We're going to take him back to the hotel. Yes. Yes. Of course. Maybe in a few hours? Yes, I'll call you after we check him over. Yes. Thank you, Aunt Bel.

He yelps in surprise as the radio demon picks him up and holds him bridal style.

Lucifer: What the hell you doing??

Alastor: Why, carrying you, my love!

Lucifer: I can walk just fine.

Alastor raised an eyebrow at this then promptly dropped him.

Lucifer: Ow! What the fuck?!

Alastor: That does not look like standing. Perhaps it's opposite day today?

Lucifer all but growls but knows he's got him there. With a groan, he relents, deciding that he's going to be complain all the way back if he can help it.

Lucifer: Fine.

Alastor: What was that~?

Lucifer: I said fine! Carry me you tacky piece of shit!

He's pouting but he doesn't care. He's the King of Hell for Father's sake! Why is he letting this man bully him??

Alastor only smiles as he picked him up again. At least someone is enjoying this humiliation.

The way Alastor is holding him is doing something to him and had Alastor always been this handsome??

They meet Charlie outside already with one of their limousines. Thankfully, no reporters are camping anymore around the palace or this will be another big scandal that will most likely damage his image. Not that he cares what people in Hell think of him but whatever they they perceive him as extends to Charlie and he's not going to give them any ammunition on her.

Charlie: You sure you're alright, Dad?

Lucifer: Yes, sweetheart. I just want to be in a bed right now.

Alastor: I could always teleport you there, my dear. Would be faster than this death contraption.

Lucifer: I will throw up on you.

Alastor's eye twitches but doesn't say anything back. They sit in semi-comfortable silence the rest of the ride.

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

Alastor: Charlie, why don't you talk to the others and your uncles and aunts about your father's condition? I'll take his majesty up in his room. I'm sure the last thing he needs is to be bombarded with questions at this time.

Charlie: You're right. Thanks, Al.

Charlie squeezed Lucifer's hand in a silent reassurance.

Charlie: I'll follow you later, Dad. Love you.

Oh, how he loves her so.

Lucifer: Okay, duckie.

He almost threw up when Alastor teleported them up to his tower but before he could, the sinner put up a lemon tea up on his face. Muttering a small thanks, the King of Hell took a few sips before deciding to lay down.

Alastor is still not interrogating him but maybe the other can smell his exhaustion. No. The guy did not talk at all. He only moved to sit by his side, leaning back to the headrest. Lucifer takes this as an invitation to hug the other's waist like a bolster and snuggles closer. The Sin of Pride feels his partner's hand combing through his hair and humming an old tune.

He's afraid of seeing Roo again as he tightens his hold on Alastor. The other doesn't even flinch and Lucifer is glad. Alastor usually doesn't like touch so whenever the other allows it, Lucifer savors every second.

Lucifer: I won't blame you, you know?

Alastor: Hmm?

Lucifer: If it's too much. If you wanna leave, you can.

The hand in his hair stops moving but Alastor still said nothing.

Lucifer: I'll remember you though.

Sleep is calling him. He only wishes that he'll dream of nothing this time.

Lucifer: I remember everyone that leaves.

He passes out not hearing Alastor reply, words laced with a genuinity no one else had the privilege to hear.

Alastor: I can assure you, my king, I am not one to give up what I adore that easily.

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I adore that Lilo and Stitch line. It really struck me when I first watched it.

YT also played this Hour of Joy VHS tape and that background tune really gave me inspiration on some future scenes. So, stay tuned.