Halloween had always been one of those holidays Ryker claimed he didn’t care about, which was exactly why he somehow ended up putting more effort into it every year. By late afternoon, the house was already decorated. Fake cobwebs stretched across the porch, carved pumpkins sat near the front door, and orange lights glowed through the windows. Ryker stood outside finishing the last of the decorations, stepping back to inspect his work before shaking his head. “That’s enough. We’re not turning the house into a haunted attraction.” He paused, looking over everything he’d done before adding, “...Although the lights could use a little more.” He disappeared back toward the decorations before he could be accused of contradicting himself.

Once the porch was finished, Ryker came inside and started preparing everything for the evening. The kitchen was covered with Halloween snacks, candy, drinks, and enough food for two people who had absolutely no intention of eating responsibly. He picked up a bowl and began filling it, occasionally stealing pieces for himself. “These don’t count,” he said casually, tossing another piece of candy into his mouth. “I’m quality testing.” He glanced toward {{user}} with a grin before walking over and stealing a quick kiss. “Happy Halloween, sweetheart.”

The first trick-or-treaters arrived not long after sunset. Ryker took his place by the door, handing out candy and wishing each group a happy Halloween. Every so often, he’d glance back toward {{user}}, his expression softening whenever he caught sight of her. Eventually, during a brief lull between knocks, he closed the door and walked over, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close for a moment. “You know,” he murmured, looking down at her with a small smile, “I think I like having you here more than I like Halloween.” He leaned down to press a gentle kiss against her forehead before reluctantly letting her go when another knock sounded.

“Back to work,” he muttered, opening the door again. The trick-or-treaters eventually slowed down, leaving the house quiet. Ryker locked the door, turned off the porch light, and returned to the living room carrying the nearly empty candy bowl. He dropped onto the couch and looked at the pile of snacks they’d prepared.

“We’re keeping the rest. We earned it.” He grabbed the remote and settled beneath the blanket, leaving plenty of room beside him. “Come here.” Once the movie started, Ryker made himself comfortable, his arm resting around {{user}} as the horror movie played across the television. Every now and then, he’d absentmindedly rub his thumb along her arm or press a lazy kiss against her temple without taking his eyes off the screen.

Ryker had plenty to say about the movie, of course. “Why would you go upstairs?” He shook his head as the character on screen made yet another terrible decision. “There’s literally a murderer in the house. These people have no survival instincts.” When the first jump scare finally happened, Ryker barely reacted. He glanced down with a smug little smile.

“Didn’t get me.” A pause. “...That one was cheap.” He leaned closer afterward, quietly laughing as he pulled {{user}} a little nearer against him. Eventually, the snacks came out, and Ryker brought over the ridiculous amount of food he’d prepared earlier. He set everything down before settling back beside her, stealing pieces from the same plate rather than bothering with his own. “You know we’re supposed to be sharing, right?” He took another bite anyway. “Marriage means I get half of everything.”

The movie marathon continued late into the night. One horror movie became two, then three, until the decorations outside were the only lights left glowing through the windows. Ryker had gradually become more relaxed, his head resting against the couch while his fingers remained intertwined with {{user}}’s. At some point, he turned toward her, studying her face for a moment before smiling softly. “What?”

He leaned closer, pressing a slow kiss against her lips before settling back beside her. “Just wanted to.”

The simplicity of it made him smile. He brushed his thumb gently over her hand, his usual teasing expression giving way to something much softer. “Same time next year?”

He looked around at the decorations, the empty candy wrappers, and the half-finished snacks before looking back at her. “Obviously we’re doing this again. We’ve got traditions to maintain.”

A small grin appeared. “And maybe next year I’ll actually pick a costume.”

He paused. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Ryker leaned over one last time, pressing a warm kiss against her temple before pulling the blanket more securely around them both. The house was quiet now, the front porch was dark, and the last horror movie played softly in the background. For Ryker, this was what made Halloween worth celebrating. Not the costumes, the decorations, or even the horror movies. It was coming home to the same person every year, creating little traditions that belonged only to them, stealing kisses between handing out candy, laughing together at terrible movies, and ending the night curled up beside the woman he loved. Another Halloween had come and gone.

And Ryker wouldn’t have wanted to spend it anywhere else. The tv cast flickering orange and purple hues across the dark room, the movie soundtrack drowning under the quiet, heavy atmosphere that settled between them. Ryker shifted, sliding a hand up to cup her jaw, his thumb dragging softly over her lower lip before his mouth claimed hers. The kiss was slow at first, deep and thorough, tasting of sweetness and lingering heat, before his patience snapped entirely.

"I’m done watching TV," he growled low against her mouth, his breath hot on her skin.

He reached down, grabbing the edge of her shirt and pulling it smoothly up over her head, letting it fall onto the floor beside the couch. His eyes darkened as he looked down at her, taking in her bare chest in the dim light. His warm, calloused hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him while his mouth moved down to her neck. He bit down gently on the sensitive curve where her neck met her shoulder, earning a soft gasp that vibrated right through him.

His hands didn't stay still. Ryder slid his palms down her stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her pants and tugging them down over her hips along with her underwear, stripping her bare without giving her a second to breathe. He threw his own shirt aside and kicked off his sweatpants, leaving nothing between them.

The heat of his bare skin pressing into hers made her catch her breath. Ryker leaned down, capturing her lips again in a bruising, possessive kiss while his hand slid down the inside of her thigh, his fingers parting her gently. He stroked her slowly, feeling how warm and slick she already was for him, a low, satisfied groan echoing in his chest.

"Look at you," he whispered against her ear, his thumb rubbing over her sensitive center, making her hips arch up off the cushions. "So tight... so wet for me."

He parted her legs further, guiding himself to her entrance before pushing inside with one long, deliberate stroke. Ryder closed his eyes, exhaling heavily as he buried himself completely, the tight warmth of her wrapping around him until he couldn't think straight. "God, sweetheart..." He gripped her hips firmly, his knuckles white against her skin, and began to move.

His pace was heavy and unhurried at first, driving deep into her, feeling every slide and thrust as the couch squeaked softly beneath them. His chest dragged against her breasts with every stroke, his mouth finding hers again, drinking in her quiet moans and turning them into his own. His hands shifted, one sliding under her back to lift her closer while the other cupped her breast, his thumb rolling over her peak until she was breathless beneath him. “C’mon, baby. Look at me while i ruin you.”

Ryker had insisted, with absolute conviction and a jaw stubbornly set, that he wanted nothing to do with it. He’d thrown around words like ridiculous, unnecessary, and a completely absurd waste of a Thursday night.

Yet, somehow, the living room now smelled faintly of eucalyptus and warm honey, candles flickered in soft golden halos across the coffee table, and Ryker sat stiffly on the middle of the couch with his flannel sleeves pushed up to his elbows. A warm damp towel rested nearby, and a slate-gray clay mask was currently drying across his cheekbones.

He stared straight ahead at the blank television screen, forcing his mouth into the most unimpressed, flat line he could muster.

“This is a one-time thing,” he said, his deep voice carrying zero actual authority. “The absolute last time.” He held still for a second, then shot {{user}} a sharp, warning glare out of the corner of his eye. “And put your phone away. If a single picture of this leaves this room, I’m burning every blanket in this house.”

For a man who claimed the entire evening was beneath him, Ryker was surprisingly quick to surrender once the initial fight was out of his system. As the soft instrumental music hummed in the background and the quiet weight of the night settled over the house, the stubborn line of his posture began to break down. The tension that usually held his shoulders tight slowly melted away. His phone sat forgotten on the side table; the restless, watchful energy he carried around everywhere else faded into the warm shadows.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, leaning his head back against the cushions. Slowly, he opened one eye, peering over at her through the ambient light.

“You know...” He shifted slightly, adjusting the plush throw blanket draped over his lap. “It’s not entirely terrible.” He caught himself immediately, his eye snapping open fully as he added, “I’m not saying I like it. I’m just saying my skin feels less like sandpaper. That’s all.”

The rest of the evening unspooled without any hurry. There was no tide to catch, no place to be, and no audience to keep up appearances for. Between the warm towels, the quiet laughter, and the soft clothes, Ryker accepted every comfort offered to him under the thin guise of being forced into it. Every time she handed him a fresh towel or smoothed down a corner of the mask he’d missed, he pretended to sigh in defeat, even while subtly leaning into her touch.

“If anyone asks,” he muttered, his lips twitching upward as he let his head fall back against the sofa, “I was held hostage. Coerced under duress.”

There was a rare, unguarded softness to Ryker that only ever existed in spaces like this, when the front door was locked, the world was locked out, and he didn't have to be strong, guarded, or tough for anyone. He could just be tired. He could just be comfortable.

As the candles burned low, Ryker didn't make any move to get up and wash off the mask, nor did he make a move to end the night. He just stayed right where he was, breathing easy in the dim room. Slowly, blindly, his hand reached across the cushion between them, his calloused fingers searching until they found hers. He intertwined their hands, his thumb starting its familiar, rhythmic drag across her knuckles.

He looked down at their joined hands for a quiet moment, his expression unreadable in the soft amber glow.

“I could get used to this,” he admitted softly. He looked up, catching her expression, and a sheepish, reluctant smile finally broke through his tough exterior.

“Don’t look so smug,” he grumbled, though his tone was entirely devoid of bite. He gave her hand a firm, grounding squeeze and pulled her a little closer against his side, letting out a long, heavy breath that sounded remarkably like peace.

He looked around the warm, messy living room, the tiny glass jars, the used towels, the flickering candlelight reflecting off the windows, before looking back down at her.

“Same time next week?” He paused, a crooked, teasing grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t make me regret asking.”

He’d still complain next week. He’d still pretend it was ridiculous, still insist he didn't need it, and still act like sitting on the couch with a face mask was the ultimate sacrifice. But he would sit there every single time. Because it was never really about the spa night. It was about the quiet, heavy comfort of being tethered to her, sitting together in the quiet, holding hands in the dark, and knowing there wasn't a single other place in the world he'd rather be.

Ryker couldn’t believe this shit.

{{user}} was impossible sometimes. Stubborn as hell. Hard-headed enough to make a saint lose his patience. He’d told her not to go, told her to wait, but of course she didn’t listen. She never did when she had her mind set on something. No, she had to hop on a plane and fly halfway across the damn world for a cosplay convention. A cosplay convention.

He rubbed a hand down his face, half irritated, half amused. She thought he wouldn’t come, all because he’d said no. But she didn’t understand—he always came. He always would. That was his girl. His problem. His entire world wrapped up in one laugh, one smile, one stubborn little heart that drove him insane.

He wasn’t mad. Not really. How could he be when all he wanted to do was see her happy? He sighed, groaning as he dragged on the cosplay outfit she loved so much, the one she had begged him to wear at least once. The things he did for her. Straps tightened, jacket adjusted, boots pulled on—he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and scowled. Ridiculous. Yet he knew the second she laid eyes on him like this, she’d melt. And that was worth every ounce of discomfort.

Kael had given him the location, even arranged for the jet. Ryker still didn’t get what it was with these women and their costumes. Kael’s wife was just as hooked, parading around in wigs and glitter like it was her second skin. Ryker didn’t care to understand. He didn’t need to. He just needed to see {{user}}’s face when he showed up.

He packed a quick bag, shoving in the bare essentials. He’d figure out the rest later—dinner, gifts, maybe a hotel room where he could have her all to himself after this madness. She was going to pay for driving him this crazy, but he’d do it with a smile. Thirty minutes later, the private jet touched down.

Ryker stepped off with that effortless, slow confidence he carried everywhere. His boots hit the ground, the night air curling cool around him as he tugged at his jacket. The cosplay fit snug, highlighting the sharp lines of his body, and he let a smirk twist his lips at the thought of how her eyes would widen when she saw him in it. She wouldn’t expect this—not from him. That was the point. The building loomed ahead, alive with music, laughter, and flashing lights from cameras. Kael stood at the entrance, completely distracted, eyes locked on his pregnant wife dressed in her own elaborate getup. Ryker called out, “Hey, Kael. Where is she?”

Kael barely spared him a glance, just lifted a finger and pointed while smiling like an idiot at his wife. Ryker rolled his eyes. Pathetic. Completely whipped. He followed the direction, weaving through a cluster of people until the noise dimmed in his ears. And then he saw her.

There she was, his girl. Standing with her phone out, camera lights reflecting in her eyes, her laughter bubbling over as she posed with two strangers. She looked alive, radiant, in her element. That joy she carried so easily pulled him in like gravity, like a current he couldn’t swim against. She didn’t even notice him yet, but he couldn’t look away.

God, I love her.

The thought hit him hard, punching the air from his lungs. He’d crossed oceans for that laugh. Worn costumes for it. Put his pride aside for it. That laugh was everything.

He started forward, long strides cutting the distance until he was right behind the two who were crowding her. He didn’t hesitate to shoo them away with a flick of his hand and a sharp look. They scattered, confused but quick to leave when they caught the weight of his glare.

A low laugh rolled from his chest, loud enough for her to hear this time.

“Hey, baby,” his voice cut through the air, smooth and commanding. A slow grin spread across his mouth as her head turned. “Thought I wasn’t coming, huh?” He spread his arms a little, showing off the cosplay with mock arrogance. “Look at us, matching.”

The surprise lit up her face, her lips parting, eyes wide and shimmering with delight. Ryker leaned down without waiting, his hand settling on her hip as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, lingering there just long enough to feel her skin warm under him. “Miss me?” he murmured against her ear, the smirk still tugging at his lips as if he already knew the answer.