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butterflydm · 11 months

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wot reread: a memory of light (ch 7-10)

spoilers through the final book, a memory of light

While they were inside having the meeting, Rand's presence in Merrilor has caused trees to sprout and grow outside the pavilion. Perrin says they're the same kinds of trees that he's seen inside an Ogier stedding. The trees are already hundreds of feet tall. I like all of this One with the Land stuff for Rand. It's enjoyable.

2. Elayne doesn't let herself get too distracted, instead calling for maps so that she can start figuring out the logistics of the army. Bryne being cold to Elayne because he holds the actions of her mom against her: damn, Siuan, you really settled when you went for him (he does mellow later and make it clear that he respects her as a leader but that his loyalties are now with the White Tower, so I will give him partial credit). Elayne does take charge here, even when Amys tries to say that the Aiel can handle their own parts of the battle and she doesn't budge when Aviendha tries to press her either, which I really like.

Proud as I am of Elayne for being the wrangler for the entire war effort here (she spends hours here with the generals, clan chiefs... and Perrin, lol), I am not super interested in the details of battles, so I'm not going to be relaying troop movements or anything like that unless it's emotionally important to one of the characters.

3. Let's talk about the Five Great Captains thing for a hot minute: one of the frustrating things that Jordan did was create five continent-famous generals and... they're all men. And the one place where maybe we could find a female Great Captain (the Green Ajah), we're explicitly told: nah, she isn't. So I am definitely glad that Elayne was placed at the head of all the armies here because it's really a Dude Show apart from her (and some input from Amys & Aviendha as Wise Ones).

I kinda hope that the show just does away with the whole "the Five Great Captains" concept as a whole. Give us one or maybe two really good generals on the Westlands side (Bashere is the most important) and then let the Captain-General of the Green Ajah actually be one of the big military leaders, along with including representatives from the Aiel (Rhuarc, Amys, & Aviendha) -- instead of Bryne, let the head of the Green Ajah in Salidar be the one leading Egwene's army.

Because as awful as the Seanchan are, one thing that they do have over the Westlands is that women are just as likely to be important military leaders (like Perrin's slaver BFF Tylee) as men are -- though even there, we had the weird thing where, at least for some of the female soldiers, marriage disqualifies you from service (just like with the Maidens).

So clearly Jordan was aware that women are capable of having strong tactical minds. He just... decided not to do that with the Westlands. For whatever reason.

(oh, I just realized that Lord Agelmar, one of the great captains in the books, has already been killed off in the show! My wish is partially granted already; and we've also seen that the Greens are more willing to fight in the show as well, so the other half of my wish -- that the Green leader in Salidar lead Egwene's armies -- seems pretty plausible, and that would cut Bryne out of the story fairly neatly)

4. The Ogier arrive, which is also when Elayne finds out that they were on the verge of leaving the planet entirely. But Loial's speech worked and every Ogier who is able to fight has come to fight on the side of the Light. lol, forever at Perrin pretending that he did anything when it comes to this; he says that he went ~looking for the Ogier~ to try to see if they could help but then they were already here at Merrilor. You stepped outside a tent? That's your big accomplishment here, Perrin?

5. When Elayne goes to assign Perrin a task, he refuses, because he is a useless person, but Faile steps up to volunteer, because she is a useful person. Anyway, Faile is now in charge of the supply chain, because Perrin thinks he's too good to listen to the person that Rand put in charge of the battle. The excuse he gives is that Rand ~needs Perrin by his side~ so I will wait and see if Perrin actually does stick right next to Rand's side to protect him or if he wanders off on his own.

6. Speaking of people who won't do as they need to: we get a mention of Mat not being here (this time in context of shirking his duty as the Hornblower for the Horn of Valere) and Perrin says that Mat is in Ebou Dar "doing something with the Seanchan" (you know, the people who are still the enemy right now).

How could Perrin know that? He's never been to Ebou Dar. He wouldn't recognize it even if he saw that Mat was there in a color swirl vision. Also, it's only been "hours" since Perrin had the vision of Mat on a dusty road and it takes a bit longer (weeks longer) than "hours" to go from the Tower of Ghenjei (which is in Andor) to Ebou Dar (which is on the southern tip of Altara).

...but I will refrain going into detail on this until we get a Mat PoV chapter, in case there is an explanation on his travel logistics.

7. Also, wow, we really needed to get more from Elayne on what she thinks is happening here. Perrin does not mention here that Mat is married to the Empress of the Slavers Seanchan so... interesting for him to leave that out, since he knows and was so tickled pink by it in his conversation with Mat; and Elayne is only aware that Mat had kidnapped one of the High Blood during his escape from Ebou Dar and that he'd freed Aes Sedai who had been captured as damane. Per ToM, Elayne got the 'heroic' story from Thom while Perrin got the 'Mat married a slaver' story from Thom.

So Perrin and Elayne are actually approaching this conversation from incredibly different levels of knowledge but we don't really get any implication here that Perrin is intentionally hiding the truth about Mat's relationship with the Seanchan from Elayne (due to her being a channeler and Mat's slaver wife being someone who would happily torture and enslave her), he just... doesn't happen to mention the full extent of what Mat is doing. Also: Perrin doesn't mention here that if Elayne wants to know more about what Mat was doing last, she should talk to Moiraine, Thom, and Grady. Why not? Why are we acting like Mat's movements are a state secret that can only be found out via mystic color swirls? Mat cannot go from Point A to distant Point B instantaneously unless he has a strong channeler helping him, because Mat can't channel.

8. All we get from Elayne here is "the Seanchan are the enemy. Mat doesn't seem to understand that, considering what he's done," which could just literally be a reaction to Perrin telling her that Mat has quit the field to go hang out with slavers. Especially since Perrin's 'explanation' was so vague and cagey despite how he actually knows for a fact that Mat is married to the fascist leader of the slaver empire. It could be that he's worried that if Elayne is hesitant to trust Faile due to not really knowing her*, that Elayne definitely wouldn't be willing to trust Mat with the Horn, if she knew that Mat had run off to play house with the enemy (because they are under the impression that the Heroes fight for whoever they're called to, rather than fighting for 'the Dragon' specifically). But, again, we don't really get a hint of that in his thought process here. He just doesn't tell Elayne about Mat's true relationship with the Seanchan for... reasons, I guess.

Elayne even worries here that Mat's "put himself into trouble" with the Seanchan, which makes sense, since the story she got from Thom was focused on Mat being a sneaky freedom fighter who frees slaves! And Perrin offers zero clarification.

(* I am going to point out that Elayne knows Perrin and Faile roughly equally well? She doesn't actually have a developed friendship with Perrin. She saw him briefly in Falme, post-battle, probably, would have spent an equal amount of time with Perrin and Faile during Tear because they were basically joined at the hip, and then the next time she saw him was when he showed up in Caemlyn in ToM. It's Mat who Elayne has spent time with and knows, not Perrin. It's weird because it felt like Sanderson was aware of this in the Elayne & Perrin scenes back in ToM)

9. Yeah, I really do feel like having Caemlyn be one of the battlefronts of the Last Battle doesn't feel needed at all. I'm guessing it's supposed to be there to add ~personal stakes~ to the fight for all our Andor-born characters but... literally all of them are people who understand that all of existence is at stake. They didn't really need the fight to have additional personal stakes. The stakes are already there. All the Caemlyn battle did was make it so that the book doesn't have room in the pacing for the important character moments that we keep skipping. This scene with Lan at Tarwin's Gap is good, though.

10. Elayne talks to Talmanes about the tragedy of Caemlyn. Perrin and his troops have... apparently come with Elayne to Caemlyn? Even though Rand isn't here? Wow, that really does make it seem like Perrin used Min's viewing as an excuse to get out of work that he didn't want to do rather than it actually being the main concern in his mind. That was literally only last chapter and Perrin has already gone away from Rand's side, lol.

Elayne notes here that Talmanes is one of Mat's "most trusted" men and is slightly disappointed that Mat hasn't 'corrupted' him into swearing more. I will note again that Talmanes is the one person* who knows that this entire tragedy could have prevented if Mat had been willing to read a letter. Mat not being confronted with his failure here is another example of Mat vanishing from a storyline and leaving a gaping hole, which is something that Jordan (and now Sanderson) did with Mat but not really any other character. It really does feel like Mat should have been two separate characters by this point in the story (honestly leaning towards feeling that Harriet was wrong to suggest Jordan cut The Fourth Ta'veren Boy back in TEotW) because he just leaves these massive narrative holes all over the place that have to be hastily shored up with tertiary characters.

(* apart from Olver, who didn't really seem to fully understand the note; also, side note... where is Olver? I dimly recall that he isn't dead -- no thanks to Mat -- but no one has mentioned him)

The Boy Who Defects To The Seanchan and The Boy Who Saves Moiraine At The Tower Of Ghenjei really are incompatible character through-lines, including just needing to be in completely different physical locations at roughly the same time. If we still had Fourth Boy (who I am assuming would be Seanchan-Defector Boy), then I assume Seanchan-Defector Boy would have simply gone back to Ebou Dar with Fortuona.

11. Elayne notes that it has been 'one day' since Talmanes was pulled out of the city. The attack on Caemlyn began literally while Talmanes and Olver were still waiting for Mat to return from the Tower of Ghenjei, something that Mat was explicitly planning on doing at the end of ToM.

I'm trying to wait until Mat's PoV chapter to truly judge this storyline but, wow, the logistics are a mess and make zero sense in terms of the timeline and geography involved. Mat is not a channeler. The channeler who was helping Mat with the Tower of Ghenjei is at Merrilor.

Mat has no viable path to Ebou Dar that doesn't go through Merrilor, not if he wants to get there sooner than a month or two months from when he and the others exited the Tower of Ghenjei. Moiraine went into the 'finn doorway before Egwene rediscovered Traveling for female channelers, so Moiraine would not know the Traveling weave (though I'm sure she's learned it by now -- probably the first thing she did after the meeting with Rand!).

I'm... extremely curious to see how Mat's first PoV chapter makes sense of the logistics of his storyline. Because as it stands right now, it looks like Sanderson & Team Jordan simply dropped the ball when it came to Mat's timeline in comparison with everyone else's, because this makes no logical sense.

12. It's so weird for Elayne to casually be thinking about how "Tam" has come along with Perrin with absolutely zero internal acknowledgement that he's the grandfather of the kids that she's currently carrying. I'm... pretty sure she knows that he's Rand's dad, right? Otherwise, why would she even mark out this specific captain of Perrin's as special? Also, Bashere has told Elayne that Rand gave him ~special instructions~ to watch over her. The contradictions of whether or not Elayne is being treated as Rand's love interest (who is pregnant with his kids!) continues to be super-weird.

Bashere suggests that Elayne make it public that her kids are also Rand's, and she tells him a. it's none of his business and b. that sort of thing would make her kids targets. Also, you know, if she does decide to do that, maybe she should... tell Tam first? Separately? Because he's their grandfather?

But, nope, Elayne decides to just make a general announcement, against her better judgement. I will note again that Tam is part of this wing of the army, so he would find out here that his son, who gave him a ~special introduction~ to Min back in ToM, also got the Queen of Andor pregnant. How is it possible that Tam doesn't have some questions about that?

13. The Last Battle is actively occurring on four different fronts, and Mat Cauthon is a deserter. It's hard to avoid that thought, as we move from battlefield to battlefield and Mat continues to be inexplicably not present. In Tarwin's Gap, Lan's forces have to retreat from the full crush of the Shadow's forces.

14. We learn from Egwene's thoughts that she and Gawyn got married in a private ceremony. Once again, I say, stop having important emotional moments happen off-screen!

How is the Morgase & Tallanvor's wedding ceremony more relevant to spend page time on than Egwene & Gawyn's wedding? Baffling priorities!

I feel like that's the main issue at hand with A Memory of Light: it does not feel like the narrative priorities are in the right place. We keep skipping important emotional moments so that we can have battle scenes instead. We've spent way too much time on tertiary characters in a subplot that is completely detached from the main plotlines (the Black Tower plotline).

I have absolutely no idea what rumors or gossip is currently out there about Rand's various relationships (especially after Elayne has now had it announced that she's pregnant with his kids -- Rand parading around with Min while Elayne is several months pregnant seems like it could hurt morale as much as it boosts it, because now Rand looks like a philandering douchebag, which is maybe not super-reassuring to the rank-and-file, who already viewed Min as Rand's "pet", per Min's PoV in TGS. we saw what kind of impact the Berelain situation had with Perrin back during the Slog; it made his men look at him with less trust and respect. not ideal!).

And we keep getting reminded that Mat isn't here, but it also makes no logical sense for him not to be here, given the set-up we were left with in the last book.

15. Elayne has suggested setting up a hospital for the wounded soldiers, run by Yellow Ajah Sisters. Of course she has! <3 <3 <3 <3 Egwene agrees that it's a good idea and suggests that they set it up in Mayene, far away from the various battlefields.

16. It's finally time for Egwene to talk to Leilwin née Egeanin, who Nynaeve has deemed 'marginally trustworthy', lol. Leilwin née Egeanin swears herself to Egwene's service but then admits that she doesn't have the kind of inside knowledge that Egwene is asking for. Even so, Egwene tells Leilwin née Egeanin to tell her what she can of the Seanchan & the Empress's plans. I, uh. Hope that someone is taking notes. For. Reasons. For the future.

17. Are Rand and Elayne finally going to interact in private? Rand snuck into Elayne's tent and is checking out her maps. It's so weird that he feels like he needs to sneak around to see her when she's literally throwing out public 'I love you's (and now announcing that he's the father of her future kids), what on earth is the public status of Rand's relationships?

(if Rand is here 'in secret', does that mean that Perrin still gets points for 'staying near him'? The color swirls aren't a radar detection technique that tells him where Rand is at all times, so I'm going to say 'no')

18. I genuinely loved this reunion but the timing makes no sense -- either they should be cutely sneaking around at the very beginning of the book (before the big meeting) or they both should have been firm on doing the spy games and pretending that they don't have a relationship and then it would make sense that it took this long before they could arrange to be in the same place. The half-and-half thing that the books actually went with it... kinda just weird.

19. But I will choose not to focus on that at this time and will instead focus on what we actually got out of the reunion: he's impressed by Elayne's battle planning (🥰🥰🥰); "golden hair with a hint of honey and rose" (🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 he is GONE for her 🥰🥰🥰🥰); here is life (🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰) ; he thinks everything about her is beautiful and amazing and wonderful (🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰). I love that he is capable of being absolutely gone over her in his head but also had zero issue treating her like fellow a capable ruler that he respects. They have the range. Ugh, we were cheated out of so much Rand & Elayne time in the books!

20. Elayne and Rand both mourn that they've never had time to figure out where their relationship fit into the whole 'the world is ending' scenario. Hey. Hey, there would have been a quick fix for that: Rand not immediately bouncing after their day & night together in Winter's Heart and actually staying in contact with Elayne & Aviendha after the bonding!

And even if his head was too screwed up to do that until after the epiphany, Rand had all of Towers of Midnight to visit Elayne BEFORE it was literally 'the middle of the Last Battle'; he knew exactly where to find her. But, in addition to letting him find out about the pregnancy, Rand visiting Elayne in Towers of Midnight would have also meant a Cauthor reunion in Towers of Midnight, and that would have made it even more ridiculous that Mat spontaneously deserted on the eve of the Last Battle, I guess. I mean, it's still ridiculous, because Mat was planning to return to Caemlyn at the end of ToM, but I repeat myself, lol.

(yes, yes, I promised I would hold off on complaining about the Mat plotline until we actually got there. I'm trying! lol)

AU idea: Rand goes to Caemlyn after his epiphany; runs into Mat and I guess maybe Perrin too, lol.

21. Okay, if she didn't know before that Tam is Rand's dad, she definitely knows now because he just said "Tam will be a grandfather" (which Tam also knows, because Elayne literally announced it to her army). So if Tam and Elayne interact in the future, they do so with Elayne knowing that's her boyfriend's dad and with Tam knowing that's the mother of his son's kids. So I would expect to actually see that reflected in how they interact.

Rand kneeling in front of Elayne so that he can touch her stomach is pretty cute. 🥰

So, Rand tells her here that he didn't know about her pregnancy "not until the night before the meeting." This would have been a perfect place for a justifiably puzzled Elayne to ask, "why didn't Min tell you? She told the entire Royal Palace," but then Min might actually be treated like a person who is capable of making mistakes* and not just as Rand's Sexy Accessory, so of course it doesn't come up.

(* the mistake in question being blabbing all over the palace about Elayne's personal secrets, which resulted in Elayne getting objectified by much of her household staff and being treated as nothing but a vessel for her pregnancy; Min getting so drunk that she forgot everything is just the Hand of the Author making sure that Rand isn't allowed to get any positive news during his downward spiral)

22. Rand feels "warmth" at the knowledge that he's going to be a dad but sorrow at the thought that he will probably die and leave them fatherless.

Awww, at this "last lesson" from Elayne on being a monarch. "It is all right to plan for the worst possibilities but you must not bask in them. You must not fixate on them. A queen must have hope before all else." As @markantonys and I have talked about, this really does feel like such a major part of why Jordan kept Elayne separated from Rand for so long -- because she could have given him useful advice on how to balance the concerns of being a ruler with what he needed to do to keep himself emotionally centered as a person.

What we've seen Rand get from both Elayne here and from Aviendha earlier on in the books, it's advice and reassurance that Jordan felt he needed to withhold from Rand in order for him to spiral down to rock-bottom. Rand wasn't allowed to have hope, so that's why Jordan made sure he couldn't spend too much time with Elayne. We saw in his private scenes with Min that she brushed off moments like this or tried to distract Rand with sex rather than engaging with him as a person (or sometimes she would threaten him with a knife).

23. Our two workaholics talk shop during their romantic dinner together. Of course they do. Elayne talks shop when she's taking a bath, lol.

Aaaah, I really do love Rand's thoughts here about how his love for Elayne was forged because of the things that they have in common and the burdens that they share. He feels like she can really understand the part of him that has been crushing him the most (maybe the second-most, after the prophecies of the dragon). Respect, understanding, attraction, and affection.

24. Elayne asks him about what happened "that day atop Dragonmount" and Rand thinks that he's not talked about that specific moment with anyone yet. He tells her that he realized how important it was that he care in order to fight this battle, and that means that he now truly feels the pain of all the deaths that are happening due to the Last Battle again, whereas before he could block it out.

Elayne intuits that he has Lews Therin's memories and when he confirms that he does, she's thrilled and tells him what an advantage that it gives them, and Rand is just blown away by her reaction.

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

I do like Rand and Aviendha and I find a lot of their culture clash elements charming and enjoyable, but Elayne and Rand Just Get Each Other on a fundamental level (and they always have! Elayne often had thoughts about how Rand would likely react a certain way to something and she's usually correct!). If they'd actually been allowed to spend more time together... *regretful sigh*

And even with how much they have in common, Elayne's passion about doing her part in his fight still pleasantly surprises him and he compares talking with her to watching fireworks -- always beautiful but the form that the beauty will take can still surprise him. I love them, your honor.

25. Rand literally uses his ta'veren One With The Land Dragon Reborn powers for fix Elayne's tea so that it isn't spoiled any more. I will die from the cute. I will die. Such a lovely and sweet quality of life thing for him to do for her!

And then he gives her a personalized gift that shows how well he knows her and respects her both as a person and with her specific Aes Sedai Talents: a Seed to help create angreal. And she gives him the ter'angreal knife that will protect him from the view of the Shadow, to help him during his fight, the one that Aviendha gave her (so in some ways, it is a gift from both of them to Rand -- one way that the show could, imo, improve on this scene is by letting Aviendha, Rand, and Elayne's reunion all happen together the same night rather than Aviendha's right before the Last Battle and Elayne's while the battle is already underway; then they could give him the knife as a joint gift).

26. "They stayed together long into the night. " Oh, I bet they did. *wiggles eyebrows*

🥰🥰🥰🥰

27. Hmm, we get the info on how many medallion copies currently exist:

There's Mat's medallion

There's a medallion copy that Mat currently has that he was planning on giving to a slaver

There's a medallion copy that Birgitte currently wears

And one copy was stolen by the Darkfriend queen's guard dude

So one original medallion and three copies, at this point in time. And Elayne has said that she can't make any more copies without the original, I think.

28. Birgitte has also continued to get ever more bitter and controlling, which I have speculated was a deliberate change of characterization to show how her memory loss is affecting her but the issue is that some readers of the book will take any bitter rant against a character they dislike as the gospel truth, rather than treating it as a biased PoV. And that can be very frustrating.

Just... man, remember when Birgitte was a fun character to be around? I miss when Birgitte was fun.

29. On her way back to the battle-planning tent, Elayne runs into Uno here, and he tries to watch his language and she ~generously~ tells him that he doesn't need to. Haha, she should just tell him that she likes to listen to swearing; he would probably find it a relief.

30. Lan's front continues to need to retreat from the battlefield and it makes him feel like he's abandoning the idea of Malkier all over again. Aww, Lan.

Oh, also, the 'dreadlords' of the Shadow have shown up (the Black Ajah and various Turned channelers and Darkfriend Asha'man, I assume. No mention of the Aiel in red veils yet).

31. ...we just casually mentioned that Elayne is relaying some news to "Talmanes, the Aiel, and Tam al'Thor." You can probably guess what I'm going to say.

Stop! Having Important Emotional Moments! Happen Off-Screen!

Elayne and Rand have reconnected. That is Rand's father, who presumably knows by now that Elayne, Queen of Andor, is pregnant with his grandkid(s). How is it possible that we completely skipped over any kind of conversation between them at all? We got a whole, like, page-long scene about Bashere pressuring Elayne into publicly announcing her pregnancy, but this scene we skip? Priorities!

32. Also, I just want to note that Perrin is off "engaging the Trollocs" and not, in fact, hanging around Rand in case he's needed to save his life. I really do think that Perrin was just using Min's viewing to get out of a job that he didn't want to do.

33. It is genuinely so bizarre that Elayne is hanging out with the Two Rivers archers, led by Tam al'Thor, and absolutely no one in the scene acknowledges that she's pregnant with Rand's kids. Everyone is just strictly all business.

...did Elayne have a sword before? I don't remember her having a sword before.

34. Feels weird that Mat isn't the one who sees the dragons finally being used in action for the first time. Again, it feels like Mat is missing out on all the conclusions to his various character arcs -- this one being about the industrialization of war. Mat has been tied to this from very nearly the beginning (TDR when he used fireworks to blow a hole in the Stone of Tear), even before he got his 'finn memories, and yet he's not allowed to finish out this character arc either. Of seeing this moment and realizing how much the battlefield has changed. Sure, he can see it again later on, but the impact of the first time that the readers saw this weapon of war in action, and the destruction that it leaves behind... this is part of Mat's story. That's the third story element where it feels like Mat has been abruptly cut out of completing part of his character journey:

irrationally mistrusting Aes Sedai leading to the attack on Caemlyn -> Mat doesn't see the results of his mistrust and doesn't actually learn the lesson

accepting Rand as the Dragon and as a friend at the same time -> doesn't actually talk with post-Dragonmount Rand about it, to bring their story full-circle

bringing new (non-Powered) war to the world -> is not one of the first people to see the destruction & cause it, not there to realize how much this changes the future of war (Birgitte gets to do it instead)

Theoretically, that could all be on purpose, in order to deliberately leave the feeling that Mat's story is the most unfinished at the end, but the way that he's been vanished from the Westlands stories just doesn't add up on a practical level, either logistically or narratively. Doesn't make sense.

I'm about a third of the way through, so here are my feelings about the book so far in my reread:

There are some fantastic individual scenes:

The Avilayne reunion: adorable

The Avirand reunion: funny and sweet and cute

The Randlayne reunion: peak romance; I died several times

Rand setting up the pavilion at Merrilor: amazing

But the overall priorities of this book feel like they are in the wrong place. The center does not hold. Those great individual moments are in a framework that is rushing past and ignoring many other potentially great character moments. And I get why the book feels rushed -- it is rushed. AMoL would have been, like, three or four books all on its own if Jordan had lived to write it. But I feel like Sanderson was choosing some of the wrong things to brush over and some of the wrong things to linger over.

Anyway, this is getting long enough, I think, so I will end this section of the reread here.

spoilers for the rest of the book below, past chapters that I've done in my reread

Was the Elayne & Bashere scene meant to be a clue that Bashere had been Compelled?

Because Elayne is correct that there's no need to announce that her kids are also Rand's, and all it does it paint a new target on her back from Forsaken & Shadowspawn. Though from what I recall, there's absolutely zero story impact from this at all? Which kinda makes it even more unnecessary.

Arguments against this: Birgitte also seems all for it, for whatever reason?

I think that Bashere should have made the suggestion to make the announcement, Elayne should have rejected it, and then Bashere should have done it anyway. That would have been a very good clue that something was wrong with Bashere (though he could still justify it to himself by saying that he believes it will motivate the soldiers) without having Elayne cave to him for no real reason.

Elayne could even have found out that Bashere went behind her back because Tam came to her asking if it was true! We could have had an actual conversation between Elayne and Tam that led to them talking about the whole "Tam is gonna be a grandfather" thing.

#wot reread #wot #wheel of time #the wheel of time #elayne trakand #rand al'thor #egwene al'vere #mat cauthon #wot book spoilers #wot spoilers #wot amol spoilers #wot a memory of light spoilers #randlayne

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drakeanddice · 4 months

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Mausritter this week was light on adventuresome hijinks, truth be told. The Waywatchers have been away from their home in Fox Cross for a full week (rigorous timekeeping being a key pillar of Old School play, y’know) and the dangers and treasures of the world had them bending their feet back to their beginnings.

Dragging all the treasure their little mouse backs could carry, they spent the first hour of game night hiking from the southern extremity of The Patch to the very north, reminiscing about the things they missed most about home. Birch, being not just Team Dad but a consummate family mouse, told stories about his wife and nine children. Fennel reminisced about Grampus, the de facto lynchpin of Fox Cross’ Guild of Messengers, a gruff and vaguely put-upon iconoclast of the Patch’s erstwhile postal system. Bindi, thinking always with her stomach, wondered about the first marzipan of the season (made by Marni, Birch’s wife in their family shop) and how Chester, the retired sewer-guide who runs the Waystone Tavern was getting on.

And they all were excited to get their weekly stipend from Horatio, the town Aldermouse. Granted they were carrying more treasure than they could strictly carry, but it would be nice to have some pips in their pocket that they hadn’t had to drag out of the danger and darkness of the world beyond Fox Cross’ walls. Plus, they had plans for the spoils of their adventuring, already.

Mausritter leans into the old adventure game mechanic of treasure being experience; 1 Pip (the coin of the realm) equals 1 XP. But it does a neat thing where every 10 Pips invested in a community or spent charitably grants an additional XP. This cleverly encourages the PCs to—if you’ll excuse the terrible pun—buy in to the characters and factions that exist back in civilization, far away from the dangerous wilds. And so, financing improvements and business expansions and defenses and helping to fund the further goals of their communities is a way to advance their characters and overall shape the ongoing narrative of the world.

That’s good tech.

Anyhow, this episode was all about building a supporting cast that the players are excited to come and check in on again and again. So, Birch’s enormous family got screen time. Grampus the angry retired mail mouse got some screen time. Chester the anvuncular innkeeper got some screen time. Horatio, the harried bureaucrat Aldermouse got a little screen time.

But we also got:

-Thorne, the warhawk of a smith who was in the Regiments lo those many years ago and thinks that direct action against the problems brewing in the south is the only way to get things sorted, damned be the costs.

-Sweetgum, the local representative of the Dairybell Company who believes anything can be solved with careful application of Pips. Also, as long as problems are far away, they aren’t her problems.

-Berthold, the head of the Almondiers, the mice who tend the almond grove just north of town on the edge of the spooky Estate. He’s made of ghost stories and local legends.

-Lucretia, a caravan leader built more like a hamster than a mouse. She wears an enormous ruff and travels with a small band of adventurer mercenary-mice. She desperately wants to add the Waywatchers to her retinue.

-The Papas, five unconvincingly-disguised least weasels who run the Foxcross Ferry. They sneak in a low-country brogue and hide themselves under oilskin cloaks and nor’easters, but the fact that they were once part of a gang and are in hiding until they deem it safe to retrieve their ill-gotten gold is an open secret. One is on duty at all times. The others are engaged in a game of cards that has been going on for years. They are Tall Papa, Kind Papa, One-Eye Papa, Split Papa, and Wet Papa.

All in all, a cozy session with a goldmine of characterization and hinting at plots that could be coming down the pipeline. Next week, we’re taking the first pigeon out of town and back down to Swamp Farm to consult with the Speaker-for-Ghosts. Hopefully we’ll meet Tam down there and we’ll be back to adventure.

Sometimes a breather and a little bit of downtime is exactly what you need to get the pot back to boiling.

#writing #ttrpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpg stuff #mausritter

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cobrakaisb · 1 year

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meet me at midnight

summary: it’s new year’s eve. it’s also the first time you’ll be ringing in the new year with ethan edwards and taylor swift

warnings: partying

word count: 1.2k

“ethan! are you guys ready to go?” mark shouted, his voice booming through the surprisingly quiet house. “almost,” ethan mumbled, watching as you finished applying the mascara that you loved so much. he gave you a pointed look through the mirror, one that begged you to hurry up. “i don’t know what his problem is. the party doesn’t start until 10:30,” you said, giving your lashes a final swipe with the wand. “and it’s 10:35 y/n,” mark said, popping into ethan’s room, where you were getting ready. the three of you decided to go to a party to celebrate new year’s eve considering that the three of you were the only ones left in ann arbor.

“have you ever heard of being fashionably late? because that’s what we’re going for here,” you questioned, looking up at the taller boy. mark rolled his eyes, but the small smile on his face gave him away; he wasn’t really mad at you. “ready?” ethan asked, squeezing your hip. “yeah. oh wait! let’s take a picture!” you cheered, pulling out your phone. you gestured for mark to get in, and he did, very reluctantly. the three of you stood together, all smiling as you took a photo. “okay saved and posted on the private. let’s go,” you said, taking a hold of ethan’s hand as the three of you locked up the house.

the three of you hopped into an uber, one that mark called, and headed towards the party. the ride was filled with mindless chatter, laughs, and ethan’s fingers tracing patterns on your jean clad thighs. in what feels like mere minutes, the uber pulls to a stop in front of the house. “thank you so much! happy new year,” you said, exiting the car after ethan. the second your feet touched down on the pavement, ethan had his arm wrapped around your shoulders. he placed a soft kiss on your temple before leading you up the stairs and into the house.

the house was already jammed packed. people were standing around chatting with friends. a game of beer pong was in full swing in the living room, surrounded by a crowd of people dancing to the incredibly loud music. the tv was playing the new year’s eve countdown in the background. “let’s go get a drink,” ethan said, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. you hummed, nodding in agreement as you followed him into the kitchen.

once you were in the semi-calmer kitchen area, you realized that mark was no longer with you guys. “where’s mark?” you asked, eyes frantically searching for the tall strawberry blonde in the crowd. “he found some people from one of his classes, i think he went to talk to them,” ethan replied, shrugging his shoulders. “are you sure?” you answered.

your response made ethan love you even more. mark was his friend, and yes the two of you were friends too, but your connection to him wasn’t as strong. granted mark would drop anything for you in a heartbeat, and vice versa. there was just something about your response and willingness to make sure mark was okay that had ethan looking at you with such adoration in his eyes.

“god i love you,” ethan said, completely out of the blue. you blushed, turning to face him. “i love you too eddy,” you replied shyly. he loved that you still got flustered around him despite being together for almost a year. “can i kiss you?” he asked, putting his cup down on the counter. you smiled, nodding at his question, allowing him to pull you into a deep kiss. it was slow and meaningful, full of appreciation for you. “mark will be just fine, okay?” ethan said, withdrawing his lips from yours. his big hands cupped your cheeks while his eyes met yours. “okay,” you replied, convinced by the confident look from your boyfriend. “now let’s go mingle,” ethan announced, allowing his hand to settle along the small of your back as he led you towards a group of mutual friends.

an hour later, everyone was gathering in the living room. the music had been lowered so that it was barely audible. the games of beer pong and other drinking activities had come to brief pause. everyone was focused on the tv, watching ryan seacrest countdown the last few minutes until midnight. “oh my god. we should play midnights by taylor swift! that way, at midnight, she can sing ‘meet me at midnight’!” some girl, who you recognized as stassie from your stats class, said. “babe we’re not,” her boyfriend cut her off, but it was too late as she was already connecting her phone to the aux.

a groan echoed across the room, mostly from the male population in attendance. they were silenced, however, by the killer glares of the swifties present. “what do you say ethan? will you meet me at midnight?” you asked, a teasing smile on your face. “hmm i don’t know sweetheart. what’s in it for me?” he replied, playing along with you. “a new year’s kiss,” you promised, a sweet smile on your face as you looked up at him through your lashes.

the two of you were focused on each other. ethan’s eyes were baring into yours as he thought about how lucky he was. you were amazing, truly. he met you back at the beginning of freshman year, and then the two of you began dating shortly after winter break. he remembered feeling like you’d reject him when he approached you with sweaty palms and a slightly wilted bouquet of flowers. he was over the moon when you said yes, and he truly couldn’t imagine his life without you. you were his rock, his number one supporter, and his lover all wrapped into this brilliant package.

you felt the exact same way about ethan. when your mother called to check in on you, you found yourself ranting to her about how lucky you were. not only were you dating a respectful and caring guy, but he was also attractive and one hundred percent out of your league. ethan was everything you wanted in a man; he was the prince charming that you envisioned as a kid. now he was here, in the flesh, with you and you were not planning on letting him go.

“ten seconds!” someone shouted, drawing both you and ethan out of your thoughts. you blinked, trying to refocus on your boyfriend and your surroundings. “someone cue up the taylor!” a voice called from further back in the room. the girl from earlier, stassie, was all too happy to comply as she started the song lavender haze, the one with taylor’s iconic line.

“meet me at midnight?” ethan asked quietly, hands coming to rest on your waist. “anything for you baby,” you answered, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers curling in his hair, as he pulled you into him. he didn’t need to be told twice; your lips collided in a heated kiss. there were whoops and hollers surrounding you, but it was all background noise as you rang in the new year completely enthralled with each other.

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards blurb #umich hockey #ethan edwards 😩#cobrakaisb writing

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sortofanobsession · 2 years

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To Cry for the Moon Part 5 (Moon Knight x Female Eternal!Reader)

Author’s Note: This one is a longer one, and I might be the only update until Monday. If I have time to finish part 6 after I get home from Mean Girls the Musical I might get it out tomorrow but I cannot guarantee it. But enjoy part 5!

I do not have dissociative identity disorder (DID) This is a fictional depiction of DID & characters are based on the Marvel/Disney’s Moon Knight series. I own nothing. The story idea by @jupitersmoon167 (the original post I saw is here!) Also realized I should probably add content warnings, so I did and tagged them. If you think I missed a warning please send me an ask. I try to tw tag even the tiniest thing so no one has to suffer if I can help it.

Y/N = Your Name. Y/N/N = Your Nickname. Reader pronouns She/Her. Story is 3rd person POV. Italics are the reflected alter talking.

Tag Requests are Open just message me.

Tagged: @rosaren2498, @yuugenmomo, @faefanatic, @urlocallsimp, @assassinsasha23, @queenariesofnarnia

Primary Pairing: Steven Grant x Eternal!Reader, Marc Spector x Eternal!Reader, Khonshu x Ma'at!Reader (It’ll make sense eventually)

Content Warning: Mental Illness, arguing, stalking (because Khonshu is just being a creeper), angry Khonshu, Earthquake

Word Count: 2k+

WIP Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Part 5: Unsteady Times

Y/N was mid-tour when the world around them started to shake. People began to panic, screaming in fear of the large objects and glass displays. She did her best to usher the group away from looming artifacts. As much as she knew she wasn't supposed to use her powers around people unless deviants were around she was already preparing to call on her wings to shield them as best as she could. A nearby statue standing nearly 10 feet tall swayed as the shaking seemed like it might never stop, but in reality could only be a few moments, less than a minute even. The slightly eroded base even on a secured pedestal might not hold much longer. She called on as much strength her cosmic powers allowed her without her armor or her wings to stop it from toppling over. When the shaking stopped and the statue stilled, she let go and looked around. The tour stopped as well. She did her best to calm them, but the group opted to leave. She could understand that. As she headed back from the lobby she decided to see how the gift shop, and a certain employee, had fared. She managed to catch Steven's attention from the entrance of the gift shop. He was busy straightening a few toppled displays, stopping when he saw her. She gave him a wave and a thumbs up. He grinned and returned the gesture. It was really all they had a chance to do because of the chaotic nature of it all. But it was enough. Steven would take Marc's jabs about being a lovesick puppy because of how happy he was that she'd come to check on them. Marc was just glad she wasn't crushed under one of those giant statues she loved. That was something they both agreed on.

As she walked back toward some of the more fragile artifacts she froze. She could see something moving, but it didn't make sense. She swore she saw a tall figure moving among the relics. It made Y/N shiver.

"Do you feel that?" One of the other guides asks. "Is there a draft?"

"I…maybe, I don't know," Y/N replies, glancing back at the poorly lit room that was lit more for dramatic effect than convenient surveillance. She swore she saw movement again.

"Are you alright?" Her coworker asks, stepping beside her.

"What? Oh yeah, guess I'm still a bit shaken up. Not every day you wonder if you might get done in by a replica of a temple column or take a sarcophagus lid to the head."

"If we did, I'd demand hazard pay," the guide said.

"Agreed," Y/N chuckled.

But she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Her shift was almost over but something made her step into the Ennead exhibit.

She walks up to a set of statues, sighs, and walks over to a recreation of a temple wall. She stops in front of a god not featured throughout most of the exhibit. The lunar deity, Khonshu.

"I've either lost my mind after all these years or you're here for some reason. Part of me hopes you really are." She glances back at the statues of the Ennead. "I know they banished you, and I was sad to hear that, but just so you know, I'm glad you still exist."

Her phone rings and she turns to leave. A grin on her face when she feels a slight breeze around her.

"Hey Sprite," she says as she answers her phone. She closes the door to the exhibit and heads towards the lobby. "I'm on my way out now."

Ancient Egypt:

Ma'at smiles as she watches her fellow Eternals mingle among the Egyptian people. It is unusual for a god or goddess to walk among the people but Ma'at was not a normal goddess. Her task was to directly judge the hearts of humanity. She had not only aided the humans in defining order, aiding in creating standards of judgment, laws and creating a balance with not only the world around them but in themselves. A system of truth and justice that would grow with the people. And grow it did. It grew into a kingdom, but humans and Eternals were not the only beings. Gods joined them. The Eternals welcomed the gods and their devotions to the kingdom they created. The bond between gods and Eternals was forged around a single feather. The feather of truth was offered on behalf of the Eternals and the people to aid the gods in their process so long as the gods agreed to maintain the systems already established, mainly the judgment of humanity and their hearts in this world and the next. The Eternal Y/N, having been the one to offer the feather and her services as the creator of the system to Osiris. In return he deemed her Ma'at, Goddess of judgment, truth, justice and order. Y/N happily accepted the position. That was how she found herself the liaison between the Ennead and the Eternals. The avatars of the gods, good and loyal servants of the deities, were always happy for her assistance. As the only god or goddess without the need of an avatar, a lot of communication went through Ma'at. The Eternals and other avatars helped, but like all things Y/N did, it was a balancing act she eagerly accepted. It was part of her mission after all. Though she would often buttheads with the more stubborn gods. Primary those that also claimed to enact judgment and justice. Osiris would defer to Ma'at more often than not to deal with stubborn deities. Requiring Ma'at to often reside in the temple as Khonshu and often Ammit quarrel. It was a tad bit tedious but all part of the job. But nothing ever lasts. As the kingdom celebrated the Eternals eradicating the deviants in the area. It meant it was time for the Eternals to move on. The humans were safe from deviants and the kingdom was thriving. Osiris had agreed, as well as most of the gods, that Ma'at is allowed to go without losing their backing. If only because she would never truly be gone. She would always be there in part. Her feather and the scales used to judge the hearts of humanity were forged from her energy. Forged by her hands with the aid of Phastos. It allowed her to be aide Osiris in his judgment no matter where she may be in the world. Her power continued to flow through the feather. But not all the gods were thrilled about their departure. That was how despite the joyous celebration going on throughout the kingdom, Y/N was unable to join her fellow Eternals. Instead, she found herself once more in the temple.

"Khonshu, this was always how it was going to be," she told him. "This is my mission, granted by the celestial that formed the world you claim to protect. To defy our creator, to defy his command, is beyond betrayal. Do you wish for my immortal life to be so swiftly ended? Do you not see that I've already done the most I can do? A part of my very being binds my power here. You may believe my power is as vast as the cosmos itself, as vast as the evening sky, but I have my limits. Arishem has seen to that. I cannot defy him."

"So you abandon us," Khonshu states.

"Are you even listening to me? You will still have my power, my judgment. You will have everything you need for your precious justice to continue. You will still be able to protect the travelers of the night. You do not need me."

"Then leave!" Khonshu spat. "You are no god. You are a servant, a slave to a being you never get to see."

"Says the god that cannot be perceived by most mortals beyond a gust of wind. Only the gods and avatars can see you. Which one of us is bound by limitations, Bird?" She retorts.

"My avatar is bound to me. He serves me." Khonshu says. "And as you said, you are no longer needed. So you waste my time." With that, he vanishes in a gust of wind and sand.

"Goodbye my friend," Y/N spoke to the night. Hoping the breeze and the night sky would convey her message. No longer feeling jovial or wanting companionship. She bid the temple goodbye, assuring the gods she could always be reached. Just hold the feather and she would feel them. She could return if Arishem and Ajak allowed. She returned to the Domo to prepare her heart for leaving the one place since Olympia she felt truly at home. Only bothering to join her fellow Eternals when they were called by Ajak to the main chamber of the Domo. She announced their next destination. Y/N had only been half-listening. She nods as the other agree to the new destination and they finally depart.

A hand finds her shoulder. She looks up to see Ajak's gentle smile. "One day your heart will feel whole again, until then you still have ours, your fellow Eternals. Arishem is proud of you. The mission continues and you have done well, Y/N/N. Khonshu will see with time. We serve the same power. The cosmos that gives him his sight, flows through you, through all of us. You will never truly leave them. Take heart, my dear. You are proof the celestials provide for all." Ajak brushes a strand of hair from the younger Eternal face. "Your heart forever beats for the sands of time, they will all see that eventually. Even the gods cannot stop time."

Modern Times:

Steven had managed to make it to the last bit of Dane’s birthday party. Apologizing that Donna made him stay late again for inventory.

“Next time just drag, Y/N/N along, she loves that boring stuff,” Sprite laughs.

“Just glad you could make it,” Sersi smiles, Dane agrees with a nod.

“Want me to take Donna down a peg again, you know I loooove to see her get all annoyed but not be able to do anything because both the tour guide and translation departments adore me.”

“So humble,” Sprite laughs.

“They do, don’t they,” Steven chuckles. “Thank you, love, but I can handle Donna.”

“No you can’t but not like she can hear me,” Marc states from the reflection of a pint glass.

“Be nice, Y/N,” Sersi says. “No need to piss off Steven’s boss, she might take it out on him.” Sersi gave her a look that Y/N and Sprite referred to as the ‘You know how people get’ look.

“Alright, we can’t have that now can we,” Y/N straightens the lapel of Steven’s jacket. “I won't antagonize your boss. I’ll be perfectly cordial as always.” Earning a snicker from Sprite.

“I can be nice, I just hate the way she belittles him. Next time I see it, I’m going to HR.”

“You really don’t need to defend me,” Steven says. “It’s nothing new.”

Y/N pouts slightly. “Don’t need to, but I’m going to,” She patted his cheek and grinned. “Someone has to after all.”

“Did you feel that earthquake earlier?” Steven said eager to change the topic.

"Yes, it was quite shocking. The poor students in my lecture were terrified."

"Poor kids," Steven says.

"Poor everyone," Y/N says. “Scared the hell out of the tour group I had. One lady screamed bloody murder. Glad none of the artifacts shifted too far. Made me wonder if standing the sarcophagi vertically in their displays was a good idea. Even if it didn’t crack, the glass might and that would have been a disaster. Then again, Sersi had a fossil nearly crush a kid, so I guess my group got lucky.” She left out the part that both she and Sersi had used their powers to protect people. The guys didn't need to know.

“Y/N!” Sersi slaps her arm. “She’s fine, a bit shaken, but she was fine. Is that why you got stuck on inventory? The earthquake shake up the gift shop?”

“It did, luckily not anything too valuable broke,” Steven nodded.

“Donna better not take it out of your check, she would blame you for tectonic plates shifting, or whatever caused it.”

“Enough about Donna, this is supposed to be a party, i’nnit?” Sprite groaned.

When the party was over they all headed out.

#To Cry for the Moon Fic #reader insert #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x eternals!reader #marc spector x female!reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x female!reader #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x reader #khonshu x reader #moon knight x reader #female!reader #Eternals!reader #Moon Knight Eternals Crossover fic

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i-am-a-scholar-of-magic · 2 years

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The Bat Queen Facts & Theories - My Thoughts

Introduced as early as episode seven, the Bat Queen immediately caught my attention as a well-designed character for “The Owl House.” With her angular features, long dark hair, fangs, bat-like limbs, reputed vast riches, and an accent that sounds vaguely Easern European, she struck me as an unorthodox but very clever homage to classical vampire tropes and cliches.

And yet, the series would come to reveal that she is so much more.

Over the course of the series, the Bat Queen would reveal herself to be not a demon, but an ancient palisman. She was carved for a giant’s staff, then broken and discarded. By her own admission, this occurred thousands of years ago, so long that she cannot remember the details of her owner, and since she has taken in and protected other discarded palismen of the Boiling Isles.

In season two, on the advice of Eda, the Bat Queen agrees to promote the adoption of her protected palismen to help them find new, loving partners. She reveals extensive understanding of her own kind in guiding witchlings through bonding with their best fit. She even shows personal growth from her hidebound protection of Owlbert, forging a cordial relationship with both Eda and Principal Bump and showing faith in Flapjack flying off alone with her blessing to join his chosen partner in Hunter.

A final revelation comes later in the season from Eda and Lilith’s father Dell, who reveals that since his injuries that prevent him from carving palismen, he has been working directly with the Bat Queen to restore the overharvested palistrom forests so that carving of new palismen can continue into the future. *This companionship with Dell may, in fact, be the reason the Bat Queen trusted Eda enough to care for her children.

Even with the lore surrounding the Bat Queen, there is much mystery remaining. Who was the giant that she was carved for? How was she able to reproduce? How did she become so wealthy? What great palistrom tree could she have been carved from?!

One theory that has popped up is the idea that the Bat Queen was the palisman for the Titan who comprises the Boiling Isles. I, for one, do not agree. Palismen tend to have a rough consistent size, barring Gwendolyn’s Hawksley who is much larger. Using Owlbert and Eda in the mugshot in “Once Upon a Swap” as a reference, Owlbert’s inert form appears to be about 10 inches high, compared to Eda’s height of 6.5 feet, or 78 inches.

That’s a ratio of 1 to 7.8 in height, palismen to owner.

Now, judging by the Bat Queen’s first appearance crawling through the door of the Owl House, her crouched stance still hides the entirety of the Owl House’s front door. Given that standard American houses have front doors of 80 inches, or 6.6 feet, the Bat Queen could be comfortably estimated at 7 feet tall, at least. That’s 84 inches! A comparison between her height and Luz’s adds further support to this estimate.

So, running with the 1:7.8 ratio and an estimated 84 inch height for the Bat Queen, that would make her giant of an owner 655.2 inches tall, or 54.6 feet! That’s 5 ½ stories! But as impressive as that is, the Titan is certainly taller than 55 feet. A more plausible explanation is that giants are a form of biped demon, as one seems to attend Hexside as seen early in “Escape of the Palisman.”

Where her children came from, it is possible that she carved them. Or, given how the first bat baby regurgitated its siblings, that she regurgitated them as well, perhaps after chewing palistrom wood.

Eda offers a clue as to a possible source of her wealth in her debut episode, citing “offerings” to powerful entities. Granted, she was referring to herself and the bat baby was not such an offering, but it is possible that an being as old and respected as the Bat Queen - who as a palisman may need no food or water to live, and thus has no real expenses - could accumulate great wealth with recurring offerings.

Finally, as to her size, we do not know how long the Titan has been dead or how long society has lived on it after arising from its muck. King’s book implies “eons” - an extremely long span of 500 million years, so it was likely poetic - but it is likely that in the early stages of society on the Isles, much larger palistrom trees grew, perhaps similar to the giant redwoods in California. Such a tree would have a trunk capable of creating the Bat Queen.

Whether or not these mysteries are meant to be unraveled, the Bat Queen remains a striking and fascinating character.

Thanks for reading! More to come …!

#the owl house #worldbuilding #urban fantasy #theorizing #analysis

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okeydokinyeop · 2 years

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Ten and a Half - Ildeung x Ahyi

Nine minutes.

Ildeung has been counting, and nine minutes of pure silence has passed as he walks Ahyi home. After knowing her for years he can tell that she’s overthinking just from the way she stares at her shadow.

She’s hating herself in her head again.

Ildeung stares at the uphill road and takes a deep breath.

“My parents really like you, you know.” He bumps her shoulder.

Ahyi breaks her train of thought and looks up at him. She frowns at the obvious lie. “No, they don’t.”

“You’re right, they don’t. But who cares?”

“I do.” There’s a hint of disappointment in her voice. She stops to face him. “I try not to care, but I do.”

Ildeung doesn’t say a word, but he gives her a look. Ahyi senses he’s waiting for her to say more.

She sighs. “I wanted to do well at dinner tonight, but I could feel that every time they looked at me they wondered why their son would ever be with someone like me.”

Ahyi looks down at the hem of her blue dress, remembering how she carefully picked the outfit for the occasion.

Ildeung is silent for a while but finally speaks up. “Maybe I should write them an essay.”

Ahyi meets his eyes again with a confused look on her face. “Huh?”

“An essay.” He clears his throat and fixes his glasses. “Yun Ahyi is the ideal girlfriend, in this essay I’ll list down the top 10 and a half reasons why…”

A smile slowly forms on Ahyi’s face.

“Number one, she’s really cool.”

“I’m not cool.” She protests.

“Number two, she’s even cooler because she doesn’t know it.”

Ahyi chokes in laughter and hearing it makes Ildeung proud. He continues, “Number three, she’s the kindest person I know.”

Ahyi smiles and holds his arm, urging him to stop. “Alright, alright, I get it…”

“The point is, it doesn’t really matter what they think about us…”

Ahyi nods. “I know, it’s just… I know how difficult it is not having your parents around,” Ahyi speaks from experience. “I don’t want you to grow further away from them because of me.”

“I see where you’re coming from… but remember how I broke their dreams of having a perfect child with a perfect career? That gave them the worst time. The fact that I’m dating you is a walk in the park for them.”

Ahyi squints her eyes, “Really?”

Ildeung sighs and reaches for her hand. “Yes, really. It took them almost a year to recover from what I did, so don’t worry if they seem to hate you right now. These things take time. They’ll love you eventually, I’m sure of it. I promise.”

Ildeung squeezes her hand lightly to reassure her. Ahyi smiles, Ildeung is too good at making her feel better.

Ildeung smiles back. “We good?”

Ahyi nods. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Let’s go. It’s getting late.” Ildeung pulls her and they continue walking.

Ahyi feels her cheeks warm up because of Ildeung. She sometimes takes it for granted, but it's an amazing feeling that someone cares for her the way he does.

She moves closer to him and locks her arm around his, hoping he feels her affection and appreciation that way.

Ildeung tries to stay cool, but Ahyi’s gesture made his stomach tighten.

“Would you really write an essay for me?”

He lets out a cocky laugh. “Of course I would.”

“Really? Wouldn’t you rather pay me to do it for you?” Ahyi teases.

Ildeung’s face suddenly turns grim. He hates any remembrance of what a jerk he was in high school. “I thought we agreed to forget about that.”

Ahyi laughs again. “I’m just kidding.”

“You…” He sighs.

Ahyi hugs his arm tighter and looks at their feet as they walk.

“But why is your essay top ten and a half reasons? What’s the half for?”

Ildeung smirks. “Ah… right. The half is because you’re half a person.”

“Ya!” Ahyi complains. “I’m not that short!”

“Yes, you are. It's adorable.” Ildeung suddenly kisses the top of her head. “See how easy it was for me to do that?”

Ahyi stands frozen for a while but manages to shake it off.

Ildeung has a smug smile on his face and it makes her want to take revenge. She stands on her toes and gives him a quick peck on the lips. “See how I’m tall enough to do that?”

This time, Ildeung is stunned. Ahyi rarely makes brave moves like that, but when she does it drives him crazy.

Ahyi grins even wider and walks away in victory.

Ildeung stands there and sighs. “She’s perfect.”

He turns his head to watch her walk with a light skip in her steps.

“Perfect.”

_______________

#hwang inyeop #hwang inyoup #the sound of magic #annarasumanara #annarasumana #choi sungeun

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kyndylll · 4 months

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— SOME VAGUE AMOUNT OF TIME AGO —

Friday. For a lot of people, the day to celebrate the end of the work week. There’s even a whole cute, punchy little acronym that gets written on white boards and cheers’ed with drinks at the bar before heading home for two glorious days of freedom before the slog continues again. TGIF.

Kyndyl however, happens to love her job, and being at her job. Sure, it’s only a little after 10:30 AM and she is feeling somewhat tired, but it’s nothing a little coffee can’t fix, and it’s something of a slow appointment day. Fridays typically are, because the types of clients Setton Standards usually get are the type who can afford to take the week off after having work done, rather than sacrificing more weekend festivities than necessary, so it’s not unusual for Fridays to be a mostly paperwork driven day. And even that Kyndyl doesn’t mind. It’s quiet, her feet get a rest, she can enjoy her coffee.

The polished floors, the tall glass windows of the office area, the view of the lobby many floors down, it’s all such a stark contrast to her home life, even down to the fact that the people she’s surrounded by at each end know so little about the other half of her life; in truth, it’s something of a comfort.

She’s slightly startled out of her zone by her phone buzzing against the desk, beside her and her papers. She glances at it, sees that it reads Vi. She decides she will call him back after work. She wouldn’t likely get in trouble for answering it. There’s been times where she’s taken personal calls before, the unspoken policy is essentially ‘As long as you get your work done.’ And even then, Kyndyl knows that Saxton values her as an employee, that even if something comes up and she has to fall a little behind, she will catch up, so she’s been granted leeway, when needed.

But she doesn’t try to make a habit of it, so for now, the call goes ignored, though she does feel somewhat guilty. Back when Kyndyl first moved to Jonestown, she and Vieras would talk all the time. He’d ask her about her internship, he was one of the first to know when it became official, they’d laugh about their tragic dating lives together.

But at one point, that changed for Kyndyl. She’d started dating Foster, and in fact she did tell Vieras about him at first. But once she was brought into the fold, she struggled with what details to give and what to omit. When Vi would ask, she’d give vague half-hearted answers, a part of her hoping that he would just assume she didn’t want to admit defeat, it seemed to have worked because after a point, he’d stop asking so frequently.

She’d always considered one day telling him the truth. She wanted to believe that her brother, of all people, would understand, would trust her judgment. She came so close sometimes.

Until the day it all turned upside down. Until Foster left, taking only two of his wives with him. The first and the youngest.

Kyndyl had never resented being third. She’d never thought of it as being ‘in the middle’. She was foolish to believe that she was important in her own right, not just for the money that she brought into the family, but that the belief she had in him, and the connection they shared together, was special. But if it had been, then why was she left behind just like nearly everyone else?

So her husband and patriarch was no longer Foster. And instead, it became Sully.

There were times when Kyndyl wanted nothing more than to call her brother, if for nothing else than to simply have someone to talk to that wasn’t directly involved in the situation at hand. But what would she say? Now that things had gotten so messy, she no longer had the confidence that she could explain things in a way that anyone, even Vi, would understand.

They started to talk less and less, entirely. She stopped personally reaching out, and when Vieras did call, their conversations were often stale. Kyndyl only really cared to talk about work, but she had settled in enough at that point a lot of it was much of the same, and it worked both ways. If they tried to talk about Vieras' life instead, that too, was usually much of the same.

Calls went from once to week, to sometimes skipping a week, to once a month, to sometimes even longer than that. Kyndyl tries to think of when the last time they spoke was, and struggles to properly remember.

A half an hour later, her phone rings again. And once again, it’s Vieras. Strange. It’s unusual for him to call in such a short succession, so this time Kyndyl answers. “Vi?”

“Kyn!” He chirps. “Hey uh. Sorry if you’re busy but I’m at the airport and-”

“The airport? What airport?”

“Well, you know.” There’s a pause, as if he’s waiting for her to come to the conclusion, and she thinks she is, but she’s going to make him say it, hoping she might be wrong. “I’m in Iowa, Kyn! But now I realize I don’t know where to go. I don’t know where you live, and it’s kinda early in the day so you might be at work anyway and-”

“I am at work, Vieras.”

“Yeah. Sorry. So I figured even if I googled it it might look a little bad if I just showed up. So.”

You don’t fucking say. Kyndyl props her elbow onto the desk, her forehead to her hand, and takes a breath. “Well, didn’t you get a hotel?”

“Well. No, not yet. I guess I thought that maybe…”

“Oh my god.” She says, unable to keep that one internal.

“You sound mad.”

“I’m– I don’t know. This is a surprise.”

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be!” He replies, his high, cheerful tone not quite matching hers.

“Look, just hang on. It’s almost my lunch. Let me talk to my boss. I’ll call you back, okay?”

“Oh yeah, sure.”

Kyndyl mutters a half hearted goodbye and hangs up. Taking another breath, she compiles her papers neatly into their folder, and stands.

When she reaches Saxton’s door, it’s ajar, so she’s slightly calmer now than she was a moment before, knocking quickly before poking her head inside his office.

“Miss Kyndyl.” He says pleasantly, and she smiles in return. “What can I do for you?”

“Gosh.” She says. “Well actually. My brother is apparently stranded at the airport right now. I didn’t even know he was coming. But I figured I should take my lunch and go rescue him.” She glances at her watch, more as an anxious action than anything else. “I should be back in time, but I just wanted to give you a heads up, just in case.”

“Oh of course. Take your time. If you run into any trouble just be sure to check in with Miss Sweet.”

“Oh, absolutely. Thank you so much, Sir.”

“Say, if he’s not rushing anywhere, why don’t you bring him by? It’d be a pleasure to meet him.”

“Oh. I still have some papers to finish before the weekend, though.”

“It’s early, there’ll be plenty of time. And if not.” He shrugs.

At first, Kyndyl thinks that Saxton’s leniency might be more of a hindrance, but she quickly comes to the conclusion that actually, it’ll just give her some extra time to figure out what to do with Vieras, so, still smiling, she nods, thanks him again, and heads off.

When she pulls up to the airport, she steps out of the car with the determination to give him a talking to, to ask him, point blank, ‘what the fuck, Vi?’ But when she actually sees him standing there, smiling, she finds that she can’t help but smile too, and when they are close enough, they’re hugging. When they pull apart, and she’s there, standing face to face to him, she starts to realize just how long it’s actually been.

“You’re all grown up.” She says.

“I’m older than you are!” He replies with amusement. “I’ve been grown up since you left. You’re all grown up.”

“My boss wants to meet you. You up for it?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I am.”

“Holy wow.” Vieras says as they enter the building, and Kyndyl gets it, it is a lot to take in. “This is awesome, Kyn.”

“Yeah.” She agrees, plainly. “I know.”

They take the elevator to the top floor, and Kyndyl can see through the glass wall that Saxton is no longer alone, so she stops to pause. “Now his son’s here.”

“Uh oh. Is that bad?”

Kyndyl considers. “No, it’s fine.” It might even have it’s benefits. She finishes the trek, gently knocking again, stepping inside when Saxton motions for her, Vieras following. “I’m back.” She greets pleasantly, then nods in acknowledgement to where Lex is seated. “This is my brother, Vieras.”

As Saxton introduces himself to Vieras, shaking his hand, Lex looks to Kyndyl, directly. “You have a brother?” He asks, almost sounding amazed. Vieras laughs.

“So you know just as little about her as I do, lately. It’s kind of a relief that I’m not alone.”

Kyndyl fights the urge to roll her eyes, and she tries to think of something to say in defense, but Lex responds before she does. “So, you’re visiting?” When Vieras nods in response, Lex follows it up with “Where are you from?”

Vieras turns to look at Kyndyl, as if asking for permission. Kyndyl suspects it’s half a joke, so this time she does roll her eyes, only a little. “Mr. Setton already knows where we’re from, Vi. I had to use my address when I applied.”

“Right. That makes sense.” Vieras turns his attention back to Lex. “We’re from Chicago.”

“Oh, Chicago’s great.”

“You’ve been?”

“Yeah! Just once or twice. I used to travel a bit when I was younger, and now that I have a family I love to take them places. It’s too bad my husband and daughter aren’t here right now. But would you like to see them?”

“Sure! I’d love to.”

As Lex stands, pulling out his phone to swipe through pictures, Kyndyl and Saxton share a glance of shared endearment. Even Kyndyl is aware of how much more comfortable Lex is during his visits as opposed to years ago.

“You have a beautiful family.” Vieras tells Lex, who beams with pride as he thanks him.

“And it’s so nice to finally get to meet someone from Kyndyl’s.” Saxton adds, and Kyndyl smiles too, playing sheepish.

A few moments pass of small talk, when Kyndyl glances at her watch, realizing the time. “I should probably get back to work.”

“How about we just call it a day here?” Saxton suggests.

“Oh but-” Kyndyl starts to protest, but Saxton doesn’t let her.

“There’s nothing left that can’t just be handled Monday, I think.”

Between Saxton’s insistence, and the excited look Vieras is giving her, Kyndyl has little choice but to relent.

On her way out, she stops into the office to grab her folder, anyway.

“What is this place?” Vieras asks as they pull up to the motel, reading the sign. He mutters the ‘monthly rates available.’ part out loud, before speaking more clearly to ask. “Is this where you live, Kyn? When you work there?”

“No, it’s not where I live. But maybe it’s where I’m going to make you stay.”

“Oh. Well. I guess it’s kind of… neat? Okay.”

“I’m kidding, Vi. But we need somewhere to talk before I do think about taking you to my home.” As expected, Vieras gives her a look of confusion, but before he can question anything, Kyndyl continues. “And there’s a diner we can order from, anyway, since I never did get a proper lunch by the way. Come on.”

They sit together, take out boxes between them, surrounded by gaudy motel room decor, and Kyndyl finally tells Vieras the truth. About her community, about her family, about her husband and her three other sister wives.

When she’s finished, Vieras takes a moment to simply stare on in amazement, and then finally. “Wow.” Kyndyl waits, trying to gauge him. “That’s something. I guess I can kind of understand the secrecy.”

So far, not so bad, so Kyndyl leans back, feel a little lighter. “You know, maybe your surprise visit was something of a blessing. At least now at work they probably view me a little more like a human.”

“Actually, wait. Now that you mention it, you had no reason to keep me a secret.”

Kyndyl blinks. “You know, you’re right.” She then laughs, just a little. “I guess you just actually never came up.”

Vieras lets out something of an offended scoff, but then he’s quickly laughing it off too. “I mean, even before all this you’ve always just been a bit…” He takes a second to consider his words. “Closed off.”

Kyndyl supposes that’s true, so she offers a half smile in agreement. It lets her off the hook, anyway.

“But you could have told me. Really.” Saying out loud that a part of her knew that all along is a bit too much like defeat for her, so she simply offers up a nod. “And it’s fine if you want me to keep my distance. I can stay here, we can just hang out when you have the time. I understand.”

Kyndyl thinks for a moment. “You can at least come meet them. Honestly, we have outsiders dropping by all the time. The kids’ friends, Tate’s friends. You’d be far from the first. And we do have an empty room at the main house, Sullivan’s brother Avery moved to his own when he got married, so it might be okay for you to crash there while you’re here. If you want to, that is.” She realizes that he might still find it more confusing and weird than he’s letting on, and that maybe he was gracefully trying to distance himself.

“Kyn, I’m dying to meet them.” He answers, practically beaming.

“Alright, alright.” She glances at the time. “I’m tired, though. And I wouldn’t even usually be off work by now, and sometimes I even stay late. Would you be too disappointed if I took a nap?”

“Well, we do have two beds that you paid for. Let’s take a nap.”

Later, she wakes up to find Vieras standing in front of the bathroom mirror, futzing with his hair, in a new set of clothes, and the room smelling of soap.

“Did you take a shower?”

“Yeah! I want to make a good impression.” He turns to face her, fully. “What do you think?”

“Well, I’m going to be honest that some of them are just generally harder to impress. But for the most part, I think you’ll be fine.”

“Fine?”

“Don’t pout, I mean it in a good way.” She resists the urge to ruffle his hair that was just fixated on. “Now, can I have a turn in the bathroom?”

When they reach the house, Kyndyl links arms with Vieras before stepping inside. “We are going to first go see if Sully is in, speak with him directly, find out where we stand.” She instructs. Kyndyl isn’t fond of the idea of this reaching her patriarch through gossip. She typically finds it’s better to simply face things head on. “Follow my lead.”

Vieras nods, signaling he’s ready, so she pushes the door open, leading him inside. She quickly gives a greeting to the room at large, but doesn’t take the time to even do a head count, to deduce who is greeting her in return, or who may be confused by the stranger with her, instead, she pushes on, pulling Vieras with her.

Even when they reach the door to Sully’s quarters, she wastes no time, because she knows they likely have very little to spare before someone could catch up with them, if they so wanted. That it’s almost inevitable this will be spied on, in any case.

To their luck, Sully appears to greet them. “Hello, dear.”

“Good evening, dear.” She repeats the pet-name, though senses no particular warmth between them. To Kyndyl, it feels just as much like a business meeting as she had with her boss, hours before. “This is my Brother, Vieras.” Before she’s even finished introducing him, Vieras is reaching out to shake Sully’s hand. It could be that he picked up Kyndyl’s previous sense of urgency, or maybe he is actually just that excited. “He came all the way from out of state for a surprise visit. We were wondering if it would be alright if he used Avery’s old room for.” She realizes then that the one thing she and her brother have not yet discussed was how long he was intending to stay. “his visit.” She finishes without hesitation. Professional.

Sully is regarding Vieras now, who, as opposed to Kyndyl, is looking up at him smiling, an expression bordering on puppy-eyes, and Kyndyl nearly cringes. She feels a creeping sense of secondhand embarrassment and she just imagines that he’s a breath away from a ‘Please?’ When miraculously, Sully states. “I suppose I don’t see why not.”

Completely internally, Kyndyl feels a ping of relief. Vieras’ grin remains. “Awesome. Thanks so much.”

“Yes.” Kyndyl agrees. “Thank you very much.” With that, she discreetly tugs Vieras, leading him back where they came. “Goodnight.” She finalizes, Vieras repeating it beside her. Thankfully, Vieras' new, temporary room is not too far, so they manage to escape further interaction before she’s able to escort him inside and close the door behind them.

“That’s your husband?”

“Yes.” Kyndyl answers plainly. Taking a moment to realign herself. In retrospect, it actually went about as well as it could have, so it only takes her a moment. “Well, now that that’s settled, I’m sure everyone else is eager to meet you, when you’re ready.”

Monday rolls around, which she may have figured would be when Vieras was planning to return home, but when he showed no signs of it, she reasons that it has been years since they’ve spent time together, it wouldn’t be unheard of for him to have scheduled for a week.

However, with it being Monday, that means it’s time for her to return to work, which means she has to figure out what to do with him. She finds him before she even gets ready, leaving her options open. “Hey, I have work today. If you want I can drive you and you can spend the day in town.”

“All day?”

“Well, I could probably call in today, but honestly, I don’t really want to do that every day you’re here.”

“Why would you need to call in?”

“If you don’t want to be in town all day, and if I don’t call in, then you’d be here by yourself all day.”

“Well, yeah? That’s fine.”

“Are you sure about that? I don’t want you thinking I’ve left you for the wolves.”

“Kyndyl.” Vieras says with a laugh. “I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.”

Kyndyl still can’t help but doubt that, but there’s no point in wasting time if he’s already made up his mind. “Alright then. See you tonight.”

“Have a good day.~”

Work is work. And Mondays, are work. She spends most of the day laser focused, not concerned with anything but doing her job and doing it well. Still, when lunch rolls around and she has some downtime she finds herself pulling out her phone, to see if there’s any missed calls.

Interestingly, she finds none. That could be a good thing. Or it could be a bad thing. She imagines Vieras, in over his head, with not even enough time to call for help. She imagines returning home tonight, and Vieras cornering her in her room, saying that he’s leaving, and trying to convince her to go with him.

For a brief moment, she wonders what that would be like. Packing up her things and leaving with him, maybe they run into Tate along the way, and she chooses to leave, too.

No. The image disappears as quickly as it came. Why would that even cross her mind? Before she even has time to consider calling Vieras to check in, it’s time to get back to work.

That night, the family has dinner just the same as they always do, Vieras included, and after they’ve gone to bed, that’s the last she’s seen of him, no middle of the night drop ins to proclaim his retreat.

The next morning, he doesn’t leave, either. Kyndyl’s admittedly impressed. She’s even more impressed when he makes it through the entire week. She starts to make some sense of it. Chicago is a big city, one that can get quite lonely. Their parents have been gone for years, and from the conversations she’s had with Vieras in the time since she left, she’s not sure that he has all that much he’s in a rush to return to.

At that point, she starts to think it of as something of a challenge, wondering just how long it’ll be before he’s had enough of this exciting little excursion.

The days go on. The weeks go on. Somewhere, she stops keeping track. She gets used to both seeing him and being with him at home, and strangely, even doesn’t find it particularly odd if she doesn’t see him around at times. He’s familiar with people now, helps out with certain things when he can. Probably trying to show gratitude for the hospitality.

It takes a while, much longer than she’d expect. (Just how long has it been? Months?) when one night, it snaps into place in her brain. She thinks of the routines, or in some cases, the routine of having no routine, the helping out, the knowing so many of them by name, even in the times where Kyndyl and Vieras get to spend time just the two of them, the way that the rest of isn’t even a focal point. If anything, or anyone, related to the community comes up at all, it’s nothing more than the type of casual conversation she’d have with any of the other residents.

To Kyndyl, Vieras has always been family, but it occurs to her in a flash of a moment that she’s begun to regard him as part of the family.

She goes to his room, doesn’t find him there, so she starts looking, and then starts asking. Gets a lot of shrugs, the occasional ‘I think I saw him earlier’ only to end up at another dead end.

Finally, after chasing all other leads, she circles back, and this time she does find him about to enter his room. “Hey.” She greets, not trying to sneak up on him, but she must have, because he startles just slightly, and then greets her in return.

She doesn’t even bother to ask him where he’s been, because it doesn’t really matter, she’s got other things on her mind, so she pulls him inside the room, he pulls it shut behind them. “What’s up?” He asks, sounding somewhat cautious. She doesn’t really blame him, even she’s not so sure why this has gotten her so… excitable.

“You’re staying, aren’t you?” She asks, getting right to the point. “For good. You’re one of us.”

She sees the tension leave him, probably realizing that Kyndyl’s epiphany is nothing that he likely hasn’t already known for some time now. “Yeah, I am. I get it, Kyn. I totally get it.”

“That’s awesome, Vi.” She says sincerely, reaching out to place her hands upon his arms, smiling. “I’m glad to hear that.” She lets them bask in it, for a moment.

“But.” She continues. “I don’t think that Sully anticipated you staying in the house permanently. We may need to speak with him again about where we could find a place for you.”

Kyndyl had anticipated some disappointment with that idea, or at least some questions about how that would all work, but he just says back at her, “I don’t think he minds.”

That takes Kyndyl aback. “What do you mean? Have you spoken with him already, One on one?” Kyndyl doesn’t wait for an answer, reading his body language instead. “When?”

Vieras tosses an arm up in a shrug, as if that’s a good enough answer, but Kyndyl keeps waiting. “I don’t know exactly, alright? We’ve just like… hung out.”

“Hung out?”

“I just mean like.” He tosses his hand again, runs it through his hair. “Isn’t that normal? To be like ‘Hey, can we talk, cause I think I want in on this?’ Or you know. Whatever.”

Technically, it does make sense. And Kyndyl’s not sure herself why it’s frying her brain, just a little, that Vieras didn’t think that he needed to bring her along for that conversation. She never used to feel so rigid about these sorts of things when it was Foster.

Maybe that’s what it was. That there’s still a sliver of a part of her that still hasn’t fully adapted. That because that little part of her still feels tangled and weird since the transition, she expects everyone to have some degree of that same awkwardness she does, sometimes.

Vieras never had the before, he’s choosing the community exactly as it already is. It’s a good thing, actually, if he’s that kind of comfortable.

“Okay." She relents, and once again, she sees him relax. "You’re right.”

“Aw, that’s kind of sweet.” Sabine says into her coffee, the next morning, where Kyndyl has found herself. She doesn’t necessarily consider herself extremely close with her and Avery, but she’s familiar enough with them to once in a while let a little loose around them.

“Still though, hung out? Have you ever seen them hang out?”

Avery shrugs. “I’ve seen them in the same room together.”

“And what does that mean?”

“What we mean.” Sabine takes over. “It’s a lot of people in a relatively small space. People come and go, from room to room, house to house. Sometimes you just end up being around someone. The three of us just happen to be around at the same time today, so here we are having brunch. And wouldn’t you call this ‘hanging out’?’

Kyndyl hms.

“And think of it this way.” Sabine continues. “Poor ol’ Sully spends all that time in a house full of wives and kids, might be nice for him to have someone else to spend some time with. Man to man.” She leans over to nudge her shoulder into Avery’s, who gives Sabine a glance in return that is unreadable to Kyndyl.

The two of them are something of an anomaly. One day, Avery brings Sabine home and proclaims he intends to marry. As further proven by recent events, the community has always been fairly open to bringing in ‘outsiders’. They would have a harder time thriving if they didn’t, but the surprise was that no one even knew Avery had been going out, implying it had been more of a sneaking situation. And since marrying Sabine and moving her and her sister in, he’s expressed no further interest in taking over wives, despite the impression Kyndyl has always gathered from Sabine that she herself wouldn’t particularly mind.

Kyndyl sometimes can’t help but feel a twinge of envy toward them. Not at all for the supposed monogamy, but rather just the apparent intimacy.

“Sab’s got a point." Avery says. "You’ve got your brother, your brother has a whole new community, and hell, Sully might even have a friend?” Sabine laughs to herself before quieting herself with a sip from her mug. “This could be a good thing for everyone.”

Kyndyl hums again, considering. “Yeah. Maybe it is.”

#adsgf i'm rusty x_x

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is.

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t.

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional.

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so.

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing.

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life.

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met.

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least.

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

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

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

#bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #bruce wayne reader insert #batfam #batman #batman x daughter!reader #dad!bruce wayne #dad!batman #batman family #batman universe #batman angst #bruce wayne angst #alfred pennyworth #father!bruce wayne #father!batman

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littletxt · 2 years

Note

hello! i really love that beomgyu imagine🥺 and yes, you can expect to see me regularly on your ask then haha 😊 ok so another request:

caregiver fem reader with little beomgyu (age 3)

(sorry again if it’s repetitive because i don’t exactly know much about headspace ages so i’ll stick to one)

scenario: beomgyu decides to hang at y/n’s place but y/n has to babysit another little today. seeing how y/n treats the other little so caringly, he can’t help to teeter and feel jealous

~🌙

Hey bb!!! I finally finished your request! I’m sorry it took so long but I’m honestly thinking of doing a part two! <333 I did end up adding some other members naturally, I hope that’s okay.

🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗

💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼💗🌼

Wc: 1.8k+

TW: Swearing!! (Once)

Jealous Baby

On the morning of your day off, you got a sudden call from a coworker. He needed a favor. And this wasn't just any coworker, this guy bailed you out of multiple situations at work, honestly you could probably call him a good friend. You couldn't refuse his request. He had been selected to go on a nearby business trip for the company and his partner had been teetering and regressing more often these past few days and he couldn't risk leaving them home alone. So of course he asked you.

When you told your boyfriend he brushed it off, acknowledging you bringing your friend's little into your home for a bit. Beomgyu figured it wouldn't affect him much since you promised to take full responsibility for watching the little one. He'd just go on with his daily activities on his day off as well. Though he'd love to spend it with you alone, he knew how important your friendships were to you. He also knew that you would never deny someone in need of help, being the kind-hearted person you were.

The little boy was dropped off and hurried words of thanks and appreciation were exchanged at the door as your coworker, Soobin, rushed to make it to his 10 o'clock train. The little one looked at you with big nervous eyes, shuffling his feet and pulling his long jacket sleeves over his hands. Beomgyu didn't show much interest other than a side glance, he hadn't known it would be a little boy. He subconsciously wondered his little age, but quickly turned his attention back to his phone, scrolling through his Twitter feed.

"Hi, little one, my name is y/n. This is Beomgyu. I'm gonna be watching over you today. I hope we can have lots of fun together. Can you tell me your name, sweetie?", You ruffled his soft brown hair, thinking it was cute to see someone so tall behave so little.

"Ningie...Uhm... K-kai..", he felt unsure what you should call him. He knew his name, of course. But when he was little, Daddy always called him 'Ningie'. Beomgyu still only granted the two of you standing in front of the door another glance, recognizing that soft, caring tone in your voice that he'd only ever heard you use with him. But again, back to his phone.

"Hmm, Ningie. I think that sounds so cute! Just like you! Have you eaten breakfast yes, sweetie?", You helped him remove his jacket and hung it next to the door. He shook his head 'no'. His daddy wanted to get him breakfast but they had woken up late he hadn't found the time within the chaos of getting ready and leaving.

"I'll go make him something, you guys get settled.", Beomgyu stood from the couch to fetch breakfast for little Ningie. The tone of voice you were using was making it hard to concentrate on anything. He needed a distraction.

"Oh thanks, hun. Come on, Ningie. Let's find something fun to do. We can color and we have lots of toys that I'm sure my little wouldn't mind sharing.", you held out your hand for him to take. Which he did, less hesitant after hearing you had a little like him. Was that boy Beomgyu a little? He didn't seem little at all.

Beomgyu made waffles for the little and you somehow managed to help him eat without making any mess. Now you just had to pass the time until his Daddy came to fetch him after his meeting. You decided on using Beomgyu's playdough after watching Ningie's eyes light up, far too shy with you to ask for it himself. Your boyfriend tried not to watch how gentle and endearing you were with the boy that played with his little things. He focused on gaming instead. You hadn't even thought to ask him if using his little items was okay, Beomgyu has always been kind so you didn't think it would be a problem.

And it wasn't, nope, not a problem at all. Why would it be? That's what he told himself as he powered on his game system and grabbed his pink controller from the charger. He could feel the little one's eyes graze over him, then avoid him all together. What was that about?

When lunchtime came around you said you'd whip something up really quick asking your boyfriend to watch over the little for just ten or so minutes. The little one had gotten a little anxious and needed to borrow one of Beomgyu's plushies since his daddy, in his morning hurry, had forgotten to pack his. You figured it was just separation anxiety and not the fact that your boyfriend was growing tenser each passing hour, now even grunting in annoyance every once and a while. At the game right?

You brought out two plates, one for Beomgyu and one for Ningie. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, everyone liked those. You took special care of Ningie's, cutting off the crust and cutting it into four triangles. Beomgyu's you simply cut in half, so he could eat it a bit easier and didn't need to disrupt his gaming much.

Satisfied with your work and Ningie eating happily you went to also fetch some of Beomgyu's strawberry milk for everyone. At this point, he couldn't believe how careless you were being, completely ignoring how he felt. But he didn't say anything, he felt you should be paying attention enough to know this already. He kicked out his feet suddenly in frustration, scaring the already anxious little boy just a bit. All of these things had slipped your mind as you worked hard to accommodate Kai and do this favor well for your coworker. You knew Beomgyu liked his crust cut off and his sandwich cut when he was little, but he wasn't regressed right now so it hadn't crossed your mind.

He chomped on his food, maybe a little too loudly, but he wanted to get it down quickly so he could focus on Fortnite instead of you wiping off Ningie's face since he'd gotten some jelly over his mouth. He tapped his foot on the floor and took both plates to the kitchen for you once the little boy had also finished.

Ningie had taken a liking to the stuffie and Beomgyu's playdough so the two of you resumed play on the beige-colored carpet after lunch. Beomgyu also resumed his previous activities, focusing on trying to win first place in each match in Fortnite. But each match that passed he seemed to make more and more silly mistakes. His knuckles turned white as he firmly gripped the controller. After another 10th place, he practically growled out his frustrations, throwing his head back against the dark-tan couch.

"Gyu, you're scaring him...", you mumbled. You had never seen him like this, so tense and high strung, all over some silly game? He avoided your eyes after muttering some form of apology and starting another match.

The sound of your loving coos of praise and Ningie's giggles swirled in his head as he hunted down the last player left. They found him first getting a couple of shots in before he could build walls around him to heal. He cursed himself, how did he not see them, a giant neon banana running around with a neon green gun?! The shots broke down his wall and shot through his character, ending the match with him in second place.

Beomgyu nearly yelled, growling again as he stood and threw the controller aggressively down at the couch.

"I hate this fucking game.", he stormed off to your bedroom, slamming the door behind him. This startled both you and Ningie. Beomgyu was absolutely never like this. You'd also never seen him lose this many matches in a row, ever. It was cheesy but your boyfriend was anything but an average gamer, especially when it came to shooters. You were puzzled as you comforted the little in front of you, getting him back into a good mood by putting on a Disney movie. By the time it finished his Daddy would be there.

As much as you wanted to check on Beomgyu, he had left his phone on the arm of the couch and you couldn't very well leave a three-year-old alone. He probably needed cool-down time anyways. You heard him trudging around your bedroom, grumbling about something. Soon, you could go to him.

"Bye!! It was so nice to meet you, Ningie!", you closed the door and exhaled slowly. For the past hour, all you had on your mind was the dead silence coming from the hall. Maybe he's taking a nap? That didn't seem likely, though. You knocked on the door to your bedroom but didn't receive a reply so you peeked in to see Beomgyu laying in the center of the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Gyu?", your eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"Not now, y/n.", he spoke in a monotone voice, void of any emotion. You couldn't lie, it hurt. He rarely called you by your name.

"Gyu, sweetie...", you walked to the bed, sitting on the edge, reaching for his hand. But he tore it away quickly.

"Sweetie? Don't call me what you called him.", he quickly sat up scooting back against the headboard to hug his knees to his chest and hide his face in his arms. You were confused for a moment, but it wasn't hard to tell he was jealous.

"Beomie, baby boy. Mommy loves you. You're my only little one. Do you understand? I'm sorry mommy was so busy today.", you did your best not to frown, your baby must have felt so lonely and neglected. He mumbled something, but you couldn't hear him. His voice was mumbled by his arms.

"I didn't hear you, baby, look at me.", you took his hand and he lifted his head slowly revealing his eyes filled with tears threatening to spill over.

"You cut off his crust and gave him Mrs. Bubbles!", he let the tears fall and crashed his head back down into his arms. You felt terrible. Of course, it wouldn't be any different, he'd like the same things big or little. How could you not think something like this would happen?

"Come here, baby boy.", you opened your arms and it didn't take long. He needed you. He was immediately in your arms, the cloth of your shirt fisted in his hands and soon becoming stained by his tears. You rocked him gently, shushing him and rubbing his back,

"y-you're MY mommy!", he sniffled and nestled into your arms completely, allowing himself to feel tiny.

"Always, baby boy. I'll always be Beomie's mommy only."

You spent the rest of the evening cheering up your sensitive little prince. Watching movies, snuggled up on the couch, and promising to buy him plenty of extra strawberry milk to replace the one you had given away carelessly. Eventually, he apologized for behaving the way he did, you both could have handled things better. He needed to apologize to Kai, as you apologized to him. Maybe next time Kai came over, it could be a little playdate and no one had to feel left out.

🧸End note: I’m totally thinking of doing a part two for this 💕

🧸Masterlist🧸

#littletxt 🌙 anon #littletxt requests🧸#agere #txt imagines #txt soft hours #age regressor #agerespace #sfw little community #txt agere #beomgyu #beomgyu soft hours #little!beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fluff #choi beomgyu

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tisalovestory · 2 years

Text

Next year, everything would stay the same

A/N: Belated merry Christmas and early happy new year to everyone but more importantly to the very lovely yvonne ( @eightonenine ) who this fic is for! Took me quite a while to decide what to do for my secret santa fic for you but I hope you’d enjoy this anyways!

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem presenting!reader

Description: You and Sakusa had been best friends for years and he had always thought things would stay the exact same no matter what year it was. But as the end of yet another year approached, it seemed he was forced to acknowledge that some things had to change.

Word count: 6981

Warning: alcohol consumption, drunkness

Playlist:

Kiss Her You Fool//Kids That Fly

Lonely Christmas//Eason Chan

Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You)//Bombay Bicycle Club

2021.12.31, 11:50pm — 10 minutes to 2022

This was not how you expected your last few moments of 2021 to go.

“Careful where you’re putting your feet down— god, no, no, do not go left, your apartment is the one on the opposite side. Oh fu—”

If you had known your new year’s eve would end with you carrying your drunken, 1.9m friend back to his apartment, you would not have gone out of your door wearing your nice pair of heels that were anything but stable and practical. You winced when thin straps pinched at the skin on the bridge of your foot when you took a few steps backwards, using all your might to stop yourself from crashing onto the wall with the tall man slumping on your shoulders tugging you towards wherever he stumbled towards.

Sakusa was usually very agile, but now he looked like all four of his limbs wanted to go a different direction while his torso was stuck in the middle with nowhere to go. As a result, all of his weight was put on you after he very successfully trapped you between the wall he mindlessly walked towards and his tall, uncontrolled frame. His hair that you carefully waxed and pushed back for him now rest lifelessly on his forehead, the curls tickling you on the neck as he slumped over you like he was out of strength. Your arm that had been holding him up now was now bent at a strange angle, stuck between your side and the center of his back while you had no room to either extend or retract it.

“Kiyoomi,” you tried to call out his name, clenching your jaw when his upper body started to slip out of your grip, “can you stand?”

A nasally hum was all that he replied with, and the light vibration from his throat made you shiver. In your many years of friendship, you had been granted the honor to witness Sakusa Kiyoomi’s several moments of real drunkness, something you constantly poked fun at him for and he was nothing but cranky about. But even though this was not the first time you had to clean up after him, you did not think you had ever seen him this drunk out of his mind. You doubted he could hear what you were saying, with him only clinging onto you more as you tried to get him to stand back up.

He was too close to you and if anyone happened to walk by the quiet corridor of the fancy apartment building he lived in, it would not be too difficult for the situation to be read as something a lot less decent than the truth. With his frame threatening to slide off to the floor at any second, you had no other choice than to use both arms to hold him up, pushing his chest towards you in the process. Your knees bent under his weight and every time you tried to shrug him off so you could pull your back straight, he only seemed to latch onto you more stubbornly as if he was protesting. His breath reeked of wine, with the burning puffs from his nostrils fanning right below your ear lobes and the weak whines that slipped between his pursed lips when you tried to move.

And it was too much, honestly, when he panted at your ear with a flushed face and messed up hair, making it hard for your heart to not race and for your mind to not wander to disrespectful realms.

Even though you two were good friends, even though you had been nothing but very good friends for many, many years, and good friends were not supposed to think about each other like that.

Your brain went haywire when he rubbed his forehead against your neck and you felt his lips barely touching your skin.

“Kiyoomi!” you hissed, clenching your jaw and gathering the last bit of strength left in you to push yourself off the wall and move him back to your side. “Just,” you sighed, “don’t move, I’ll do the walking.”

He did not seem pleased, almost looking deflated at your side as you pulled him forward once again. You gritted your teeth when you almost reached his door, swearing to yourself that you were not letting him drink ever again no matter how hard he would glare at you when you tried to stop him.

You did not even bother to ask him for his key, knowing very well that it was nothing more than another round of trouble if he insisted on fishing it out himself. His breath hitched when you shove your hand into the pocket inside of his blazer, his body stiffening before you pulled out the chain of keys, the metal rattling in your hand as you immediately picked out the right one without hesitation.

Supporting yourself with your forearm pressed on the door, his weight brought you stumbling into the pitch black entrance the moment the lock clicked open. Your hand found the switch on muscle memory, not even having the ease to undo the straps of your heels before carrying him right into the living room.

He would so go off on you if he knew you walked into his house with shoes on, you sighed to yourself, already thinking about how to appease him by the time he sobered up. You could try to cover up your tracks, but somehow he would always know when you breached the many rules he had for being in his space. Like how the end of the toilet paper roll should always be on the inside, or how the ear of the mugs should always be on the left when they were drying on the racks. In your defense, you always tried your best to do as he told you whenever you were around but he always seemed to be there to see it whenever you forgot based on habit, though you would always be let off after he nagged you enough.

Sometimes you think it was a miracle that you managed to stay friends for so long even though by logic, you had been bungee jumping in his radar zone for as long as he unfortunately got seated next to you his first year in Itachiyama High.

Or in another sense, perhaps it was the fact that you had so little care for his stubbornness that made it easier for him to be around you without having to feel like you were ever going to be truly annoyed.

You could finally breathe properly when you threw him onto his large couch without a hint of pity for the poor guy who laid on the cushions like a pile of mud. Roughly pulling off the torture device on your feet with no class whatsoever, you ruffled your hair as you rolled your shoulders to regain your senses.

“Hm...”

Sakusa rolled over with a suffering groan and you sat on the floor with your legs crossed, not caring at all that your dress was hiked up to your knees as if you were at your own house.

“Too bad I’m a good friend,” you teased, even though you were quite certain that he was not listening, “or else I could be ending my year with a bang, make out with strangers or something,” you tilted your head to the side and let out a dramatic sigh, “but you’re welcome.”

He did not move, probably already drifting off to sleep. You let out an amused snort, patting your knees before crawling up from the floor. Your best friend was a spoiled baby whenever he had hangovers and you’d much rather start forcing him to drink water now than to face a grumpy Sakusa the next morning.

But just as you were about to get up, the person who was supposed to be dozing off suddenly reached out for your wrist, and failed.

Sakusa’s hand swung at the air and perfectly missed your wrist through his haziness, but the movement was still enough to halt you to a pause. His palm opened and closed like he was trying to find something and with hesitation. Was he trying to find you? You blinked, taken back by how unfamiliar he was acting but still hesitantly moved your hand to somewhere he could reach. He seemed content when he touched your finger, weakly holding onto you and completely oblivious to how freaked out you were at how strange he was acting.

You had known Sakusa Kiyoomi for many years and you were proud to say that you had most if not all sides of him, but you had never seen him make a face like this.

You gulped, watching at the man who was supposed to be your best friend holding onto your hand like a child who didn’t want to let go of his favourite toy.

His lips were trembling, with his voice so weak that you had to lean down to hear what he was saying but you were very sure that you were not making a mistake when you heard him beg you not to go in a tone that felt so mismatched coming out of his mouth.

“Don’t go...”

2021.12.28, 2:14pm — 3 days to the Sakusa family New Year’s Eve party

“My new year resolution for 2022 is that next year, I wouldn’t have to spend New Year’s Eve with you.”

Sakusa’s face physically darkened when he heard what you so nonchalantly said.

“Well,” he said, fixing the sleeve of the blazer jacket he was trying on as he looked at you through the mirror, “you don’t have to go if you’re so unwilling to.”

You sighed, sinking down onto the sofa in the tailor’s shop you had been dragged along to as you realised your lack of polishing to your words had completely twisted your true meaning around. “Let me rephrase,” Sakusa corked his eyebrow up as if he was waiting to hear how you would save that, “I hope that next year we’d both have someone else to spend New Year’s Eve with that we don’t have to spend it with each other.”

He rolled his eyes, still having his back towards you as he examined the way he looked in the mirror. You carried on, “Think about it, how many years have you had no one else to bring to your family’s party that you had to bring me? And how long had it been that I don’t have any other plans so I’d just go with you?”

Every year since he turned 18, Sakusa’s parents would ask their son to show up at the big countdown party their company held and every year, he would turn to you to fill in the spot as his plus one. This year was no exception and it had never occurred to him that he might have to find someone else at any point. It was like thunder going off in his head when you suddenly suggested that you did not actually want to go when you were mindlessly watching him find something to wear for the party.

Sakusa had known you since he was 16 and there was never a time when you hesitated to tell him if you had any opinions or objections on anything, even when you were just classmates who happened to sit next to each other. It should have been a disaster that you were stuck together for one whole semester, with him being very vocal about what he didn’t like and you being equally as honest when you thought he was being too fussy. But it comforted him in strange ways to know that there was no pretend or cautiousness when you interacted with him. Like how you would tidy your table while rolling your eyes when he told you that your seat looked like a dumpster but didn’t hesitate to tell him to fuck off when he was being too much.

The fact was, he felt the most comfortable being himself knowing if you couldn’t tolerate him, you wouldn’t pretend to like him and he didn’t have to bite his tongue either. You accepted that being his friend meant being on the receiving end of his persistence and in return, he counted you as one of the few things and people in his life he would persist with.

To him, it made sense to go to you when he needed a company. He wasn’t the biggest fan of social gatherings, but if you tagged along then at least he could gossip with you about the other guests when he was bored. You were right when you said that there had never been another person he could bring, but to him, he had never thought about finding someone else in the first place and he had assumed it was the same for you.

So to hear you mention that you did in fact want someone else had set off a churning feeling in his gut.

“Well,” he tried so sound as unbothered as he could, “I’d remember that next year.”

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that,” you sighed and waved your hand in the air, “it’s just... the holidays make me want someone that is more than a friend to spend it with and I’m tired of being single when everyone else has someone”

‘But we are more than regular friends,’ Sakusa bit his tongue to stop himself from saying what was on his mind, something he rarely had to do around you. Instead, he pushed down the annoyance boiling up in his chest and turned on his heel, rolling his shoulders back and straightening his back as he now faced you.

“What do you think?” he said, gesturing to the crisply ironed suit he had tried on.

Sakusa came from a family of elites with himself being a star in his own field, something you were only occasionally reminded of because you were much more accustomed to him being a prickly brat who silently picks out things he didn’t like into your plate when you were eating together. You would have to admit that it wouldn’t be hard to notice how he carried himself differently in a crowd of people, especially now when he was all decked out in formal attire. He did not own many suits but if he was buying one, it was never off the racks. Even if he did decide on the one he was trying on now, you were sure it would be sent away to be fit and tailored before you even see it on him again a few days later. But even with it being a half-finished look, it was already doing enough for him. The row of buttons done all the way up would have looked overcautious on someone else, but on him, it just looked classy. The vest hugged his waist snugly and accentuated the broadness of his chest.

He was not a suit-and-tie person, the restraint of the garments being something he always complained to you nonstop when he had no choice but to wear one which was quite a pity, because you would have almost swooned a little if you didn’t know the person standing in front of you as well as you actually did.

“I like this one,” you answered him honestly, standing up to examine him more carefully, “more than the last one you tried on.”

“You think so?” he furrowed his eyebrows, “I thought the last one has a better colour.”

“Hm,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest as you took a step back.

He stiffened when you walked up towards him, your eyes narrowing as you patted the seam on his shoulders and centered the collar of his jacket.

“Yeah,” you nodded, oblivious to the relieved breath he let out when you stepped away from him, “this one fits you nicer.”

Sakusa turned to the mirror, awkwardly turning to his sides to study his reflection. The truth was that he had almost decided on the last style he tried on before you gave him the clear notice that you much preferred the one he was wearing now. It was still a nice suit, it was just not something he would go for if he was shopping on his own.

“Excuse me?” he gestured to the assistant nearby.

“Yes, sir?”

Sakusa took a quick glance to your side where you were mindlessly going through the rack of dress shirts, pursing your lips when you saw one he knew looked absolutely tedious in your mind.

He sighed, and shrugged off the blazer on his frame before handing it to the salesperson.

“I’d take this one, please.”

2021.12.31, 6:00pm — an hour before the New Year’s Eve Party starts, 6 hours until the countdown

Sakusa was slowly starting to lose his patience as he battled with the one curl on his head that refused to cooperate with him.

He sucked in a deep breath, lowering his head with his hand gripping onto the sink as he tried his damn hardest to calm down. It looked fine yesterday when he was doing nothing but going to practice, stayed exactly where he needed it to be when he carelessly tucked it back to go on a jog but now that he was actually trying to do something to go somewhere, it was like it knew he needed to look good today and decided to mess with him on purpose.

“Not to make you panic even more,” your voice echoed through his bathroom as you swiftly appeared at the door, leaning at the frame with your legs crossed, “but our uber is arriving in 15 minutes and I do not want to be dissed by yet another driver because we can’t get out the door on time.”

It was as much of a tradition for you to attend the Sakusa family party as it was for you to get ready at his place. You liked the big mirror he had installed, something you had insisted would be useful (for you) when he was going through what furniture he wanted back when he just settled on his current place. It was also because the few times you were not there to rush him out of his door, he always ended up being fashionably late. To this day, he still couldn’t figure out how you had more technical steps you needed to go through before being ready to leave than he did but had never once finished getting ready after him. While he was about to jump to his last resort of cutting away that stubborn strand of hair, you were already dressed up and ready to go as you stared at him from the door, the slit of your dress swaying against your leg as you shifted your weight from one foot to another.

You sighed, gesturing for him to hand you the styling wax he was holding in hand. With a firm grip on his shoulder, you turned him away from the mirror so that he was facing you instead. He wanted to complain when you gave him a shove so he would bend down, but found his throat to be particularly dry when he was met with your eyes staring up at him behind your lashes.

You were always the person who did his hair when he felt a need to be presentable. Graduation ceremony, his cv headshot, before a Vleague afterparty where the press would definitely be there, it was all you. If he did it himself, there was a 50/50 chance that it would not turn out the way he had intended for it to look but somehow his hair was more willing to obey you than it did him. His hair always looked nice when you were the one who touched up on it, always stayed in place and with the exactly right swirl.

He usually hated it when people touch his hair, but somehow it was just fine when you were doing it.

Your brows furrowed in concentration as you ruffled his hair, your fingers combing through his head of curls and pushing it back. The feeling of your manicured fingers brushing against his scalp made his skin burn, and his eyes lowered when he realised he wasn’t sure where he could put his gaze that it wouldn’t be weird. The dress you chose left your neck and collarbone bare and if he could see the shade of your skin even at the corner of his eye, which he was trying hard not to pay attention to. Hints of your perfume lingered in his nostrils and he noticed that it was a new scent, something warm with notes of spice.

He was going to make a comment that it was a nice scent but wasn’t sure if it was appropriate, and the thought was quickly replaced by shameful questioning in his head as to why he would think it was inappropriate to begin with.

“There.”

He was saved when the scent left and he lifted his head to find that you were already steps away. Turning to look at himself, it always amazed him that you made it look so easy when he hadn’t figured out the easiest route for himself in his 20 and more years of dealing with his curls.

“Thanks,” he said, letting out a pent up exhale.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, almost a bit smug as you flipped your hair, “what would you do without me, really?”

Usually, he would make sure you didn’t get to be too cocky but now, what you jokingly said had reminded him of what you mentioned a few days ago. Sakusa never thought that he would be without you. You were best friends, you were irreplaceable to each other. But what you said had reminded him that eventually, someone else could roll along and take up a space in your life as important or more important than him. It would not be the same as what you had with him, but he also couldn’t argue against the fact that it could very much so change the way he had always been with you.

Yes, he thought to himself bitterly, what would he do without you?

His silence made you unease, puzzled as to why he didn’t seem to be acting like himself. “Let’s go,” you tugged at his sleeve, flashing him a smile in an attempt to bring him back to earth, “the car should be here any time soon.”

He opened the door for you as you left his apartment and out the lobby of the building, but didn’t say anything other than that. The car ride was quiet less for the sounds of the highway from outside the window. It was clear that there was something he didn’t say but wanted to, you knew what he looked like when he was forcing his mouth shut.

But you trusted that he would tell you when the time was right for him, that was the basis on which your relationship had built on for years so you didn’t ask and said something else instead.

“You look good.”

“Thanks,” he paused, trying to lift the corner of his lips to hide the gulp he took, “you too.”

2021.12.31, 7:12pm — a few minutes after you arrived at the venue for the party

You were not part of the Sakusa family but you might as well be with how often you were hanging around.

Sakusa’s mother was welcoming the guests by the door when you two walked in, her eyes lighting up when she spotted her youngest child and you by his side. Sakusa took after his mother, with the defined bone structure and slender physique. She was a gorgeous woman whose eyes wrinkle when she smiled and looked elegant from head to bottom. You always told her you wanted to be like her when you were older, to which she always laughed and said to enjoy being the age you were and think about how to be elegant when you were her age.

She beckoned for her husband to come over, letting go of her son’s hand before picking up yours and asking how you had been. Both of his parents seemed to look more energetic compared to the last time you met them and it wasn’t hard for you to know why. Their eldest son had come to the party today with their first grandchild who had given the two elders a new lot of things to do. You tagged along when Sakusa went to visit his brother a month after the child was born and couldn’t help but make a note of how strong the genes were with the baby already showing a clear resemblance to the father just like how the Sakusa siblings were all cookie cutters of each other.

Sakusa wanted to turn in the opposite direction when he spotted his sister, who immediately stopped him from escaping. Sakusa was not good at dealing with his sister, who was a good many years older than him but somehow found a lot of amusement in teasing her baby brother.

“Are you two still not together yet?”

It was her favourite thing to say and Sakusa groaned when it was inevitably brought up much against his will. He sent you a pleading look to get out of the conversation but sadly, you were just as bad as his sister when it came to poking fun at him.

“You know what, you’d have to wait a lifetime if you wait for him to make a move,” she mused and reached for your hand, “there are a few nice, young men who work under me, should I introduce them to you sometime?”

You were about to say yes, but swallowed your eagerness down when you felt Sakusa staring daggers at you. His sister smirked and gave you a wink, before shooing you off and letting him drag you away before she could say something else.

Sakusa had a love-hate relationship with how well you got along with his family. On one hand, it saved him a lot of trouble when he didn’t want to be at any functions alone but at the same time, it was getting increasingly difficult for him to convince them that you were invited to all the family gatherings as nothing but his good friend.

He wasn’t sure if he was convinced either, if he was being honest.

You two were finally left to your devices after going around and greeting everyone in his family. Sakusa already felt tired and he didn’t think twice before taking a glass of wine from the nearest waiter and taking a large sip. You raised your eyebrows at him, and he stopped you before you could say anything.

“I need this,” he said, his face scrunching up at the strong hit of tannin he wasn’t accustomed to.

You shrugged and watched in concern as he proceed to gulp down the rest of the wine. Sakusa was not an alcohol person and he was not built to be one either. He didn’t get drunk fast but it also meant that by the time he showed signs of being drunk, it was already too late.

But he was also very stubborn at times, and it seemed today was one of those days when you wouldn’t be able to stop him much.

“Alright,” you picked up your glass so he wouldn’t have to drink alone, “but I’m not going to look after you if you go overboard.”

2021.12.31, 10:34pm — half an hour before you left the party and after Sakusa’s 7th glass of Carbernet Sauvignon

In the many years you had known Sakusa, there were only a few times when he truly got drunk and it was usually for the same reason: he wanted to do something he would never have the guts to do when he was sober.

With the force he was drinking with today, you were afraid to think about what it was he wanted to do that he needed to be so drunk for.

“Kiyoomi,” you eyed the man whose face was getting more and more flushed by the second with worry, “I think you need to stop.”

“No,” he slurred, “why?”

“You’re not even standing properly!” you said, reaching out to hold onto him when he tried to turn around only to tip forward and slummed against you completely. Carefully uncurling his fingers around the foot of the glass, you slipped it out of his hand and placed it on the closest silver tray you could find.

“That’s it,” you clenched your jaw as you struggled to prop him up, “I’m taking you home.”

The sight of you stumbling to walk out the venue with a tall man attached to your side had gained you a fair share of confused looks from the other guests. You could only bit at the inside of your cheek when you felt your feet dragging through each step, ignoring the embarrassment you were feeling from the attention you were starting to gather as more and more people noticed you trying to sneak out.

“Huh,” you were almost reaching the door when you heard a familiar voice, “your progress has sure gone much quicker than I had expected.”

You let out an exasperated sigh when you wiped your head around to see his sister’s eyes glinting with interest from behind her glass.

“This idiot is drunk out of his mind,” you sighed.

“I can tell,” she said, taking a sip, “and? Are you going to spend the rest of your new year’s eve looking after my drunken bother?”

“It is not like I have another choice,” you let out a dry laugh.

She chuckled, “But you do, don’t you? You’re not the only person here who could send him home.”

“Well, yeah,” you tugged at Sakusa’s arm when he was about to slide off of you, “but I can’t just leave him here.”

“Of course,” she shook her head with a smile, her eyes flicking between you and her brother who was clutching onto you, “I’d let mom know he went home if she asked.”

You shot her a gratuitous look and mouthed a soft “thank you”. His sister watched you two disappear with a thoughtful look, and grinned as she pondered if all that wine was finally able to make her baby brother tough up.

2021.12.31, 11:55pm — back at Sakusa’s apartment, 5 minutes till 2021 is over,

“Don’t go.”

He repeated, this time a lot clearer than before but still a tone lower than his usual voice.

“I’m just going to get you water,” you tried to reason, “I’m not leaving.”

But he only seemed to hold onto you tighter when you tried to pull your hand away. He wasn’t even using half of his usual strength and if you wanted to free yourself, you most likely could with his arms moving like sludge. But you didn’t have the heart to, not when he seemed a lot more vulnerable than he usually ever was even if you knew it was the alcohol messing him up.

He let out a painful whimper as he shut his eyes tight, his lips looking pale with how hard he was biting down as he tried to sit up but couldn’t, falling back onto the sofa each time once he felt the heaviness in his head. You slowly moved so that you were sitting next to where he laid down and he seemed pleased by your presence, tilting his head clumsily so his forehead was just resting against your leg.

“I don’t... hm—” he hiccuped, brows furrowing when he coughed and you panicked, thinking that he had choked. You moved him until his head was resting on your thigh and your chest tightened when he leaned into you, almost as if he was burying his face into your waist.

“I don’t,” he swallowed, chewing on each word slowly before letting it drop from his tongue, “I don’t want you to be with other people.”

You froze, the weight in your lungs existing from the heavy breath you let out until your head was floating in the clouds.

“You can’t just say that, Kiyoomi,” you muttered, moving away the strands of his bangs that fell onto his eyes as you studied the face of the boy you knew who wasn’t a boy anymore.

You had actually dated someone back then during your second year of high school. You always mentioned your first relationship with much spite, never reconciling that the first and only boyfriend you had and he was nothing short of an asshole who was so average but so egotistic. He was someone you had interacted with briefly through school functions, someone you talked to from time to time but wasn’t particularly close with. You had not seen his face again after graduation and you doubted that you would recognise him even if you see him in the streets but at the time, he was decently good looking, decently tall, decently well-liked at school. He wasn’t exactly your type, you would have to admit, but he was just decent enough in every way that you did not have a reason to refuse him when he pulled you to the side during break one day and asked if you would date him with a flushed face.

It was like that with many high school relationships, oftentimes it happened because someone was bold enough to make a move and the other person didn’t have a strong reason to say no.

Sakusa reacted to the news when you broke it to him with widened eyes followed by a scowl. “Who is that guy?” he asked, quite genuinely too, because he truly had no idea who the boy was and suddenly he was your boyfriend.

“You wouldn’t know him,” you dismissed his concern, “he’s not in our class.”

“Hm...” he hummed slowly, “and you accepted his confession just like that? Do you even like him much?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions today,” you pretended to roll your eyes but your tone softened when he just seemed worried. “Look,” you said, “it’ll be fine! I’ll just give it a go and see if it works.”

He sighed, giving up as it was clear that you wouldn’t listen to him anyways. “Just don’t come crying to me, I don’t know how to deal with those things.”

But you still went to him regardless when the short lived relationship eventually turned sour, knowing that he wouldn’t turn you away even if he said so on paper. Sakusa, for the first time since he started playing volleyball, ditched practice to sit with you behind the gym when you showed up with tear blurred eyes, glaring at whoever it was passing by who even dare took a glance at you while you were shaking through tears.

“He broke up with me through a fucking text, said that I’m not what he had expected,” You threw your hands down in rage, your lips falling apart in wordless anger, “I hope he trips down the stairs today.”

Sakusa nodded, “Lose his wallet.”

“Get chased by dogs,” you gritted. You sniffled, sucking in a shaky breath as you calmed yourself down.

“I’m not sad that it’s over,” you reassured him, wiping your tears away with your sleeve, “I’m just pissed that I wasted my time with an asshole like him.”

“He’s a cunt.”

You gasped, a tiny smile breaking through as you shoved his arm lightly. “Since when did you start cussing like that?”

He shook his head, pulling his mask higher up the bridge of his nose as he let out a humph, with so much disdain like it was his ex you were dissing right now. “Since I found out some people deserve it.”

You chuckled, toying with your hands as you lower your gaze to the ground.

“I’m done with dating,” you said, dropping your head.

“Don’t be silly,” Sakusa was quick to reply, “there are many people who aren’t like that.”

You were sure that he was right, but didn’t say anything. Curling yourself up, you peeked at him from the corner of your eye. He was not an expressive person and it had sufficiently startled him when you started breaking down in front of him. But he still sat with you at the steps of the gym even though he would never sit on the ground at any other times, and proceed to cuss out your ex boyfriend with words you had never heard him use. His knees propped up awkwardly as he tried to bend his legs, toying with the sleeve of his tracksuit as he sat with you in silent companionship.

You were done with relationships for the time being, but if you were ever dating again, you decided that you wouldn’t settle for anyone who wasn’t at least as good as him.

You should have figured it out sooner when you realised you hadn’t been with anyone since you decided on that.

People who didn’t know him well were always coming to you asking how you were able to befriend him for so long without being put off and you never understood why they would have that question. They didn’t get that his prickliness was endearing to you, because it wasn’t hard to be around someone who wrote everything he was feeling on his face. You always joked to him that he was like a cat, screaming when there was no one around but backing away when someone wanted to pet it.

“Am I like that?” he questioned, frowning at the metaphor.

You only laughed and pointed a finger at him. “See,” you said, gesturing to the wrinkles on his forehead from how hard he was furrowing his eyebrows, “exactly like this.”

But cats liked to be around people, needing you to be somewhere they could see without wanting to get close to you, yet begrudgingly staying at your side when you shamelessly hold onto them. That was Sakusa, or that was Sakusa until now.

It was very hard to resist when the house cat who usually stares at you from afar suddenly come purring at you and showing its belly.

Your heart melted when he shuddered as you ran your fingers through his locks, his eyes pursing in content.

“Kiyoomi?” you said softly.

“Mph...”

The flimsy paper window you had been so careful not to poke through cracked, threatening to burst open at the slightest bit of wind that blew through.

You closed your eyes, deciding that you would let it happen.

“What am I to you?” you asked, tenderly and gingerly.

You weren’t sure if it was a question too hard on a drunk man like him, but he gave the answer you knew you were looking for even though each note was slurred together into a string.

“You’re the only one I want to spend my new years with.”

A distant scream broke through almost on cue, the distant explosion of fireworks swallow the last bit of sound that came out from the back of his throat. His apartment sat at a good spot in the center of Tokyo, and the colourful sparks that flew through the sky lit up the dim living room you rested in each time they exploded, tinting the walls in all shades.

You laughed, and he snuggled closer to you as your body shook.

The silence was a stark contrast to the celebrations going on outside and you could hear the thumps of your heart louder than the fireworks when you leaned down, brushing his hair away before ghosting your lips over his forehead until they finally touched.

“Happy new year.”

2022.1.1, 10:18am — several hours into the first day of 2022, the time when Sakusa finally woke up

“You’re a coward.”

Sakusa almost thought his ear was ringing when he woke up with a terrible headache and heard the first thing you said to him in the new year as he stumbled out to the living room.

“Excuse me?” he blurted.

“You’re a coward,” you repeated, taking a sip of the coffee you made using his coffee machine and his mug, “who can’t make big decisions without resorting to alcoholism.”

“What?” you seemed completely entertained by his confusion, grinning like the chesire cat as you stared at him from the dining table, “What did I do last night?”

“I don’t know,” you lifted your eyebrows, “the question you should ask was what did you not do?”

“What?” he slammed down on the chair next to you with much urgency, “What did I do? Did I say anything?”

You shrugged, and he groaned.

“Can you just please tell me?” he said, running his hand down his face.

“Do you want a hint?”

“Yes, yes please.”

“You owe me something,” you mused, knowing full well that your ambiguity only ticked him off more.

“Is that supposed to help me?” he hissed, “What could I possibly owe you?”

His eyes were glued on you as you nonchalantly finished the rest of your coffee and got up, looking as in your element as he was panicking.

“You’re so dumb,” you said, bending down in front of him with a smile.

Sakusa was at his limit. “You have been acting so strangely today, doing nothing but insulting me since I woke up and dropping riddles here and there— mm????”

You chewed on your cheek when his voice died the moment you placed a quick peck on his lips, so light that it was almost as if it never happened when you pulled away from him as fast as you could.

“You owe me this for missing the chance during countdown,” his face grew redder by the second when you wiped your bottom lip with your thumb, spinning on your heel and leaving him dumbfounded on the spot, “figure out the rest of your own.”

You broke down in laughter in the kitchen when the living room went quiet for a second before you heard a huge clash of something heavy falling onto the floor.

“Wait— wait, wait, wait—”

“I’m not saying anything,” you yelled, earning you a string of incoherent curses.

What a way to start the new year.

#sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #sakusa imagine #sakusa imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines

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shivada-jade · 3 years

Text

codename: vind

older sibling!reader

characters: diluc, kaeya ➡ mentions: adelinde, crepus, la signora warning(s): alcohol consumption, swearing, and because for some reason, older siblings tend to be shorter than younger siblings. iDK WHY but ugh, yeah you're shorter than diluc and kaeya bc you're the older sibling. ik, i hate it too

like, i wanna be a tall 6'2 woman

diluc's 5'10 so u can still be tall in the story.. just not 5'11 😢 sorry over 5'10 folks

➡ WRITTEN BEFORE 2.1 so uhh :D

notes: platonic w diluc and kaeya, duh bc ur the older sibling. sibling love!!! sibling love !! woop woop !

"Dad, I'm home!" You bellow out to the house, waving a polite hello to Adelinde who looked shocked to see you. You kick off your shoes and slide your way to the long table in the living room, swiftly grabbing an apple before heading upstairs.

Your hands graze the railings and make your way up to find your dad. Upon reaching the last flight of steps, you were suspicious with how the place was very quiet. Granted, your younger brothers are now adults, but it still felt too quiet. Maybe you expected to see your brothers playing a game of chess, maybe bickering and fencing. You were hoping to see your family after being away.

You were a part of the Fatui under the Mondstadt branch. It was and at the same time wasn't a choice to be roped into the Fatui. You got roped into the wrong group of friends and found yourself blackmailed by the infamous group.

You didn't want to join. You didn't want any of it. You've been disconnected from the world. Wiped out from the face of Earth. No one gave information to you, you couldn't learn anything about what's happening currently. The most you could do was send letters, but even those were difficult to send out. You had to do it in secrecy or you'd be in trouble.

Love, the better sibling,

[Y/N]

Or another common send off is:

Please write back soon,

[Y/N]

And your family never failed to send back letters. They asked what you're doing, where you are and how are you, still you never told them your occupation, fearful of what they would think and where your loyalties lie, so you told them you were working under an adventurer.

It's for the greater good. You remember trying to convince yourself.

You're a horrible person.

You were sixteen then. Your younger brothers were twelve. It's been 10 long years since you last saw them, and 6 years since you last received a letter back. You miss them dearly. You often wondered what sorts of adventures they did without you.

But why are you wondering about this? You knew what they did: you knew everything that happened.

You're living under a heavy burden.

"Dad?" You call out again. Maids and wine makers look aghast when they see you, and they're on the verge of fainting when you call out to your father.

Stop the act.

It's strange how the letters were suddenly cut off. The last letter you received was from Kaeya, telling you how you needed to come home straight away. You tried to, but the Fatui prevented you from doing so. A lady called La Signora supervised you directly to make sure you didn't leave.

You know...

Adelinde brushes the dust off her uniform and hurries up the stairs to catch up to you, "Dear, is that you [Y/N?]"

"Did you forget me that easily? I'm offended Miss Adelinde," you chided, but the teasing look in your eyes give Adelinde relief to know you aren't actually offended. "Miss, where's dad?"

You're sickening.

Adelinde takes one look at you and squeezes your shoulders with a smile, "I'm afraid that's not for me to say. Master Diluc should be able to-"

"Oh, where's Diluc and Kaeya?" You ponder, and the corners of your lips curl upwards. "Those two were always attached to the hip. Where are they now? Horseback riding at the vineyard? Ha! I-"

You glance at Adelinde's watery eyes and stop your babbling. "What's wrong Miss Adelinde?" You reach for her hands on your shoulders and hold them. "Ah, has father been making you work too hard? I can request him to lessen your load."

Adelinde shakes her head no. "You don't have a clue, do you? Oh," she sighs. "Please, rest yourself by the fireplace. I'll prepare tea for you." She rests her hands back at her side and scurries to the kitchen.

You frown, unsure why she's jumpy, but you follow her request and sit by the fireplace. The crackle of the fire contrasts the tense air you feel when maids brush past you, offering tea Adelinde made. You thank them, gently blowing on the drink.

After taking a sip, you place it down with a pinky to lessen the noise it makes on the table. You hear the door open, and the choruses of maids greeting someone.

"Welcome home, Master Diluc," you hear and other voices saying, "We've prepared a meal for you and your sibling, would you like to rest yourself?"

You peek from your chair, he obviously hadn't realized you yet.

Diluc's lips make a thin line and shrugs off his jacket, "Why is Kaeya visiting. Isn't he supposed to do his knightly duties?"

You have no clue why he says it like that. The venom in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. You decide this is your cue to give him a warm welcome. You stand from your seat, and open your arms in a grand gesture and waltz to your brother. "Diluc! It's been a while huh?"

You clearly see him tense hearing your voice. His head snapped to your direction with his mouth parted. The maids respectively take their leave, bowing before they do so.

Diluc looks you up and down, still not believing you're there, like you're just his imagination. His hand slowly reaches out to you as if you're a dream.

Your feet lead you closer and you grasp him tightly in an embrace.

He freezes, but slowly relaxes in your hug, reluctantly bringing up his own arms to wrap around you. You feel his grip tightening, and you feel his shake out silent sobs. His face buries in your neck, letting tears fall on your clothes.

You soothe his back, and press a kiss on his hair. "I'm home, Diluc."

He trembles, pushing himself away to look at you clearly. Why hadn't you come home earlier? He wanted to vent, he wanted to yell, shout, he wanted to know how much he missed you in your absence.

He clears his throat and coughs in his fist. "You should have told me about your arrival," he adjusts the gloves on his hands, and looks to the floor like he did when he admitted he accidentally broke your toy when you were 10.

After these years, he still looks up to you as his older sibling. Not a thing has changed.

But you couldn't help but notice one thing. You knew Diluc and Kaeya had matured, you knew they would grow taller, but shit, now Diluc's taller than you.

"I sent a letter a month ago," you began. "It should have been sent to your office in the Favonius Headquarters? That's where I send my mail after you told me about your promotion to Cavalry Captain."

You squish his cheeks with both your hands. "Because I know you're a workaholic and only respond to letters that mean business, so that's where I sent it off to. You never write back, neither does Kaeya," you pause, thinking for a moment. "Neither does dad. Tell me he hasn't gotten sick that he couldn't respond to my letters."

Diluc lifts your hands off his face and frowns. He doesn't know how to break the news to you- not when you look so excited to be home and tell of your adventures to your family, so he asks, "Did you eat yet?"

You note the frown on his face. "'What's got you grumpy," you prod. "I need to find dad first. Told him in the first letter I gave him, I'd give the first gem I find."

Diluc watches you leave him to go to Crepus' room on the second floor. He hears the thuds on the floor and the opening of the door, but does nothing to stop you. You left with a smile, and you come back confused.

"Why is dad's room empty?"

How cruel.

...

Kaeya hums, passing by Flora's shop and purchasing a Calla Lily for the sake of it. He is well aware of the Fatui that stand by corners. Whispers of the wind give him intel, and so does alcohol apparently. He leans on a wall right outside Angel's Share, watching two Fatui members drink some of the tavern's strongest alcohol, imported from Snezhnaya.

"That damn," the one with the red and black mask hiccups, lifting a mug with foam overflowing. "Damn brat's gonna snitch on us to the Knights- *hiCC* boss lady wou- *HicC* would have our heads!"

Thankfully, their more responsible Fatui friend takes the mug and switches it with their drink, water. "You're the one who let Vindicta out of your sight when you know their frequencies to escape. This is all on you, buckaroo."

One of the Fatui escaped? How peculiar.

Kaeya hums, in steady strides he shows himself to the Fatui and takes a seat from another table and sits in front of the two. "My, my, my. If it isn't the wonderful Fatui," he divuldges. He twirls his Calla Lily around his fingers, amused with the Fatui's reactions.

Their mouths drop, knowing who he is and they hastily clean themselves up by sitting straight and wiping away the alcohol from their faces. "Good evening, sir."

"Evening to you too," he places the flower behind the person's ear, flustering them. "Well? Drink up. Everything you order will be on me."

The Fatui look at each other, skeptical with Kaeya's kindness, but the drunken one accepts the offer. Kaeya celebrates in the inside as he slowly gains Fatui intel.

Though, the second Fatui whom he dubbed the "Responsible One," took a while for them to take a sip. Turns out, they couldn't handle alcohol, that's why they avoided drinking it.

"So, my dear friends," he slides a coin on the table and stares both of them down. "A mora for your thoughts? I couldn't help but notice the tense of your shoulders when you first arrived here."

Responsible One raises their mug drunkenly, and gives a pointed look, "You... you know too much. How?..." They stare at their friend and whisper shout, "Don't tell him about Vind or-" They fail to continue their sentence and pass out on the table.

Kaeya feigns a surprised face and looks at Fatui number 2, "Who exactly is Vind? I'm sure you don't mean the storm watcher up at the cliff." He coats his voice with sugar, and it seems Fatui friend fell for his kindness.

"The damn brat," they spit out before hiccupping again. "Recruited them, fed them, saw potential, gave a home, and they escaped."

Kaeya nods and pushes another bottle of wine to the Fatui's direction, urging them to continue.

"Was supposed to be one of the Agents to spy on the *hiCc* to spy on the Ragnvindr family, because *HicC* Vind was one of the best there is. They were about to be promoted Harbinger after an assignment *hiCCUpp* but then Big Boss Lady said 'End the Ragnvindr legacy,' Vindicta left without a word. They escaped."

The Fatui downs another bottle of wine. "But judging from Boss Lady's reaction, Vind did the job: killed him and placed the blame on the Knights."

The Calvary Captain knits his brows and places his hands in front of him. It laced themselves and he watches the Fatui person empty out his wine.

"I'd be careful of what you say if I were you." His lone eye glints dangerously.

"End the legacy?" Kaeya frowns. "Can I ask..." He couldn't ask why or the Fatui would stop talking to him. "Can I ask when your beloved spy did their job?"

The Fatui waves a hand, "Six years ago. After they killed that damn aristocrat's father, they tried escaping. Big Boss supervised them under their watch. 'Potential' the Harbingers always say, but I don't see the potential in them if they don't have loyalties under the Fatui. A wild card, really."

They lay their cheek on the table. The temperature drops quite dangerously. Kaeya's diamond eye glints with coldness before it turns back to warmth.

"Rumours have it," the Fatui sighs, playing with his empty mug. "The training Vindicta went through is rougher, so we were hoping they would tie their loyalties to us. We let them explore once, and they escaped under my watch. Maybe it was their assignment to leave, maybe it's not, because Boss Lady was okay with it, she said 'Vindicta will always return in our hands.' when they first escaped, and surely enough they do return. But either way, I'm fucked for letting them go missing the third time of the week."

Kaeya laughs with no soul and quickly ends the lovely 'conversation.' He pushes himself from the table and stands, "Thank you for chatting with me, it's been interesting." He tucks in the chair and glances at the two Fatui dozing, or close to dozing off.

He swiftly turns away, scoffing when he's out of sight from people. Vindicta is a dangerous card. Not even the Fatui know where their loyalties side.

Vindicta. How peculiar indeed.

One of the best Fatui, which probably meant they were payed well with respect and mora, but why are they labeled as an escapee when they always return? With someone as dangerous as a Harbinger, who do they side with- the Fatui or something else?

Kaeya has a lot of questions.

...

Diluc sits on a cushioned chair and hunches over, resting his chin on his hands, thinking.

Always thinking.

The once lit fireplace is soaked with water he splashed over. The scent of burnt wood wafts nearby. The light chatter of maids go through one ear and leave the other.

How long had it been since he last saw you?

Eternity is his answer. It's been eternity since he last saw you.

He lets out a long sigh, throwing his head back and running a hand through his untied locks.

Too much thinking for today. Diluc groans in frustration and sits back up. He turns his head slightly, seeing you in the corner of his eyes taking out boxes of things you owned from 10 years before.

It doesn't make sense to him. Why come back so suddenly after years of not seeing you? Though, you claim you sent him letters, he never got them because he closed himself off from the Knights.

"Diluc," you set down a small picture of a family portrait you took out from hiding behind many books.

You are taking this oddly well.

You're taking this too well, in fact.

This raises a red flag for Diluc. He told you the fall out of your family, how he quit the Knights, but still you're going around the place like nothing had happened.

Don't you feel any rage? Or even sadness?

He sees too many red flags and hates it- from the way you can hide things like Kaeya so easily, to the way you just suddenly appear back in his life. It feels weird. It's not easy to let someone that in quick, yet you're still his role model, so it's okay, right?

He's always looked up to you when he was younger. You never were at a loss of words and stood up for him. You were the person he can turn to when something wrong happens, but what were you doing for yourself to be gone for so long? Adventuring Teyvat could not have taken ten whole years. Where did you even stay?

"Diluc," you crouch in front of him and talk to him as if he were six again. "I'm okay, okay?"

Diluc takes a shaky breath and sits up straight. His posture resembling a king's. "I have an idea, and I would like you to help me."

You look at him in awe. The realization settles in: Diluc has grown, and you're still stuck trying to make up the past.

"And what do I help you with?"

"Finding who's responsible for father's death."

notes: had this in my drafts for a long time and i was like "wait where was i going with this..." until BAM i have the idea again so im gonna continue it

(part 2)

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

And I Will Hold Onto You

Summary: They’ve never been apart for holidays since they started dating. That was until Spencer Reid found himself behind bars for a crime he’d never think of committing. Growing and healing, Spencer realizes that it’s not the holidays that matter, it’s the person. Because with that special person, who’s laugh he can recognize anywhere, even cleaning up the empty bottle the next morning is magical.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Author’s Note/Warnings: Body Image Issues (Male) nothing too descriptive, prison arc is mentioned/is central issue; loosely based of New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift

Also this is technically a part 2 to Drag Me Head First but it doesn’t have to be read that way.

And I Will Hold Onto You

There’s something special in the way that the first midnight of the new year feels. All that hopefulness and excitement packed into a 10 second countdown. The energy in the room slowly bubbles up, culminating as the ball drops. It fizzles out as loved ones share chaste kisses and friends hug. But all that remains are last year’s bottles and this year’s dreams. Maybe it’s something that Spencer always took for granted.

The cold midnight air is jarring, compared to his warm and cozy house. Spencer walks quickly, taking out the trash, filled with bottles of beer and wine. The snow crunches under his shoes and Spencer can see his breath in the air as he huffs to toss the bag in the black trash bin. Spencer, despite the way the cold air nips his nose, stops in his tracks and gazes up at the stars. It’s unfortunate living where he does, you can never really see all the stars. Maybe Y/N would like to take a trip in their cabin the next time he can get off? He could show her all the stars. But Spencer doesn’t need to go to the middle of the woods to see the stars; he can simply look into Y/N’s eyes and see all the magic the universe has to offer.

Spencer lets himself back into his house, just as Garcia and Derek are putting their shoes and coats on to leave. Y/N comes out of the kitchen carrying two trays of leftover food for their friends to take home.

“Penny, please kiss those sweet babies for me,” Y/N says, handing Luke the trays of food. She leans over to kiss Penelope on her cheek.

“They can only sweet when they are sleeping,” Penelope says, rolling her eyes and putting her coat on. It’s more of a cape in a spectacular plum purple color with cream colored faux fur trim.

“Don’t act so surprised, mi amor, look who their mother is,” Luke says, cheekily. He hugs Spencer and Y/N before grabbing Garcia’s hand with his empty one.

“Happy New Year!” Garcia and Luke call as they leave, shutting the door behind them. Spencer locks the door and heads back to the kitchen to help Y/N clean up. The plates sit in the sink piled high, with tall champagne glasses resting next to them on the counter. Glitter scatters on the floor, confetti in the shapes of “1s” and “6” lay littered on the tiles, remnants of the festivities just moments before.

Y/N stands over the sink, her hand rests on the ledge. She turns on the water and starts washing the dishes. Spencer walks up quietly behind her, nuzzling his hand into the corner of her ear and shoulder. He hums, the vibrations echoing into Y/N’s neck, causing her to giggle. He joins his hands together around Y/N’s waist, holding her tight.

“Happy New Year, my love,” Spencer whispers, his voice hardly audible above the stream of water. Even though Spencer can’t see Y/N, he can feel the way her cheeks grow against the side of his head. She’s smiling.

“It is a very happy, new year,” Y/N says, her voice strong, yet Spencer can tell it’s hard for her to keep it together. It’s not their first new year, far from it, it’s their 13th. But this time, it feels different to hold her in his arms and kiss her as the clock strikes 12.

They wash the dishes in silence, a comforting silence where certain things don’t need to be said. Like a well oiled machine, Y/N washes, Spencer dries. The sudsy dish soap smells like home and Y/N’s quiet hums sound like peace. Spencer really forgot how much he could love even the most mundane of tasks when Y/N stands next to him.

“Come on, Y/N we can do this tomorrow. Let’s just go to bed,” Spencer says, tugging on Y/N’s long sleeve of her thermal shirt.

“Hmm, I can’t argue against your cuddles, sweetheart,” Y/N murmurs tiredly, easily pushing the thoughts of clean up to the next morning. Her hand joins his, like a key finding it’s matching lock. They are cold from the water, but Spencer doesn’t really mind.

A tangle of limbs and hands, they make their way up the stairs to their shared bedroom. They pass the wall filled with pictures of their smiling faces or candid countenances in mismatching frames hung against the wall. It’s just a testament to how long they’ve been together, going back to their first date right before Y/N’s college graduation and Spencer’s fifth, leading up to their most recent Halloween. Each photo stuck in time, frozen with utter happiness and unadulterated joy. But there’s a gap in the collection, a gap that Spencer rather not talk about. A gap where, for the first time since they met, Spencer and Y/N were separated. Sitting in jail, all Spencer could think of was the personal mental prison that Y/N must have confined herself too.

They don’t like talking about the gap, but he knows they have too. Spencer knows that Y/N is proud of him, she tells him that everyday. Proud of him for keeping up with therapy, proud of him for letting go of the little things that he can’t control, proud of him for trusting her with his secrets and fears. It’s the strangest thing, to have someone be proud of you for just living.

“We’re going to need a bigger wall,” Spencer says, hoping that his attempt at referencing pop culture would land. Y/N stops to turn to Spencer, who in the moonlight that drips in from the window, looks much younger than he really is.

“Did you just make a pop culture reference that’s not from, like, 300 years ago?” Y/N says, her brow upturned in a quizzical stare.

“Come on, Y/N, you love when I recite all Sir Walter Raleigh to you,” Spencer says, reaching up to tickle Y/N sides, causing her to giggle and run up the rest of the stairs.

“Spencer! You know that I’m too ticklish,” Y/N says in between short laughs and gasps for air. She plops down on the bed, dragging Spencer down with her. He lays his head down on her chest and like a Rube Goldberg machine, her fingers come up and tangle themselves in his hair.

“Maybe our New Year’s Resolution should be to get some more exercise, Spence. Your heart is beating faster than mine and that run from the steps to our room is like a good 10 feet,” Y/N jokes as she continues scratching Spencer’s scalp lulling him into a peaceful, sleepy state.

“Two things, baby, one, we don’t exercise and two, that’s not why my heart is beating so fast, I think it has something to do with the beautiful girl laying so close to me,” Spencer murmurs quietly.

“Hmm, you certainly know how to charm a girl, even like 13 years later,”

“Actually it’s, 13 years, 7 months, 17 days, 17 hours, 58 minutes and 31 seconds,” Spencer says with a quick glance at his watch.

“And I’ve loved every single minute of it,” Y/N says, reaching up to sneak a pillow under Spencer’s head. She moves to get out of bed, much to Spencer’s displeasure.

“No, no, Y/N you’re so warm and I’m freezing,” Spencer whines, shifting so he can look at his wife, who has shrugged off her thermal shirt and jeans.

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N chides. Spencer, almost bashful at her teasing, attempts to hide his blush with the pillow that rests under his head.

“I only turn the heat all the way down at night so we’re forced to cuddle for body heat,” Spencer says, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“So you say,” Y/N tells Spencer, sitting down back on the bed. She pulls on Spencer’s legs, dragging him down the bed.

“Come on lazy boy, get your PJs on,” Y/N orders. Spencer, who under Penelope’s less than pure supervision, had enough shots to make up for all the college parties that he missed. There’s happy drunks, forgetful drunks, and then there're sleepy drunks.

Spencer stands in front of the mirror, inspecting his body. The low, yellow lamp light casts shadows on his naked torso. He’s filled out a little bit since they’ve started dating, especially within the last few months of Spencer’s healing. Y/N knew that it’s a sore spot for him, but there’s something about the way that Spencer’s dress pants sit tightly against his thighs or the way his shirt clings to his stomach that just makes him look so much older. Both of them, including their bodies, have changed so much since 13 years ago. Or 13 years, 7 months, 17 days, 18 hours, 5 minutes and 12 seconds ago. They’ve grown up together, and now Y/N can’t wait to grow old together.

But the look in his eyes is not pride over his growth or confidence over his physique. It’s confusion. Spencer stares at himself like he’s an unsolvable puzzle. Y/N knows he must hate that; Spencer hates things that he can’t find an answer to. Y/N walks up behind him, lacing her finger together so her arms clasp against his waist. For a moment, Spencer flinches. Even her gentlest touches and softest kisses can’t wash away the fear of much harsher contact. Their eyes meet in the mirror, but Y/N can feel that Spencer’s not looking at her. After all these years, she can still see the terrified young man who brazenly kissed her in her car in the middle of a rainstorm. After all these years, Spencer is still the only man she ever loved.

“Spencer,” Y/N says quietly. His name off her lips is more tender than any pet name in existence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m being immature, it’s just,” Spencer closes his eyes, trying to focus himself in the present. It’s something that his therapist suggested. In moments of distress, find your anchor. Luckily for Spencer, his anchor has been his anchor for quite awhile.

“You can tell, I’m not going to judge you,” Y/N says, her lips leaving small kisses on his exposed shoulders.

“It’s just I thought this whole nightmare of prison was behind me. Therapy has been helping, I’m better on cases and I love teaching,” Spencer says, the pain in his voice leaking out.

Y/N doesn’t say anything, instead she guides Spencer to sit on the edge of their bed. She rubs her hand down his back, tracing his spine and around the freckles that collect on his right shoulder.

“I thought that the emotional healing would be the hardest part, I mean it is, but physically, I don’t recognize myself. I can imagine you don’t either,” Spencer says, he turns to lay on the bed, bringing his feet up to his chest in a textbook self-protective position.

“Spence, your body is gonna change, baby. God, mine has changed so much since we met,” Spencer gives Y/N a confused look, like he’s not thoroughly convinced by her explanation.

“It has Spencer. We’re not 22 years old anymore, we’re going to be like 35 in a couple of months. But you know, this is something we can work on together, I’ve gone my whole life not loving the skin I’m in. But being with you makes it easier, Spence.” Y/N says, running her fingers across the bridge of Spencer’s nose and down to his lips, that always a ridiculously gorgeous shade of pink. Spencer doesn’t say much, he’s still trapped deep inside his mind.

“I don’t know how you put up with me and all my antics, Y/N”

“You do my taxes every year,” Y/N jokes, making an effort to kiss every freckle and dipple on the expanse of Spencer’s back.

Spencer turns in the bed so he’s facing Y/N, he cups her face all the way from her ear to her jaw. It’s an intimate gesture that somehow is more loving and vulnerable than saying “I love you,”

“You know you make me fearless, Y/N,” Spencer tells her, not blinking because he doesn’t want to miss out on any more time looking into her eyes.

“You say that everyday Spencer Reid,” Y/N responds, letting herself melt into the touch. She grabs onto his wrist, physically telling him to not let go.

“I have a lot of days to make up for,” Spencer says, solemnly.

“It’s not making it up if it’s the rest of our life, Spencer. Besides, there’s no one I’d rather spend New Year’s Day cleaning up all those bottles with,”

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 20 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader lies to Spencer.

A/N: Please read the content warnings for this one if you have basically any triggers, lol. This is a very heavy chapter - it is the penultimate climax of the story. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst (NSFW) Content Warning: 🚨 IMPORTANT – READ BEFORE READING🚨 This episode covers a number of very dark topics, and should be approached at a time when you have support systems available. Potential triggering topics include: sexual assault, violations of consent, suicide, self-harm, pregnancy/termination, infertility, domestic dispute, fighting, and underage drinking, sex w/ blanket consent Word Count: 11K

MASTERLIST

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Rossi’s house was every bit as extravagant as I had expected. I had come in honestly hoping to be slightly disappointed so I could mock him for it, but, as always, he had to force his appearance to be as unnecessarily elegant as possible.

That being said, I was a little surprised to find that most everyone gathered in one spot - the kitchen. It was only to be expected, considering it was usually the happiest room in the home. That certainly remained true for Rossi. But they were also all gathered there because that was where the wine was – wine that I was not allowed to drink.

Rossi didn’t have a problem with it… Spencer did. Because of course he did. And while I politely declined when Rossi offered me some, anyway, I found another offer a little more tempting. Which explains why I found myself clutching Derek’s flask and draining half the contents quickly enough to remind him that I was, in fact, in college.

And if anyone were to ask, I would simply tell them that we were hanging out in the hall outside the bathroom to have a very deep and secret heart-to-heart about our shared love for a certain mop headed genius. It would have been the perfect cover to use on pretty much everyone except…

“Ahem.”

The sound of Spencer’s throat clearing behind me was enough to cause me to choke, and I quickly tossed the closed flask back to an already giggling Derek as I shouted, “Fuck!” I didn’t even turn around when his hand snaked around my hip. Instead, I just groaned.

“The narc’s here,” I whispered to Derek, but he knew better than to answer.

“The narc?” Spencer balked, much to his friend’s delight.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Derek offered in consolation, taking a swig out of the flask and earning a very defensive glare from my boyfriend. In fact, Spencer seemed downright pissed, which wasn’t what I had been expecting when I agreed.

Oops. What’s the male equivalent of a cat fight?

“Morgan, didn’t you lecture me about her drinking underage a few months ago?” he snapped, grabbing the flask from a more than willing Derek. Spencer sniffed the contents and immediately recoiled, tossing it back again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, shooting a glance down to see me sort of just making heart eyes at the sight of my boyfriend being a stupid level of jealous that I'd been caught in the hallway with another boy.

“How does that make it better? That makes it patently worse,” he argued. Derek might have responded to it, too, if I hadn’t latched myself onto Spencer’s side.

“You’re so cute when you get all stupid and possessive,” I drawled, burying my face in his shoulder in what I think was supposed to be a playful kiss, but actually just ended up being a muffled laugh.

“That,” Derek chuckled, pointing to me teetering back and forth on my heels at Spencer’s side, “That is my cue to leave.” With one final wink, he whispered, “Don’t be too hard on him, Princess.”

Spencer’s angry sigh and entirely stiff posture should have served as my warning, but it was just funny to me at the time.

“They all think I’m the boss of us,” I giggled. “Me! The boss!”

“You’re drunk.” His tone dropped the second Derek was out of earshot, and on intimidation alone, he managed to back me against the wall.

“So is everyone but you. They won’t even notice,” I mumbled, although the more the hallway started to spin, the less I believed that. I'd never been very good at math or shots, and this was a pretty horrible miscalculation of just how much of my tolerance I’d lost.

“You really couldn’t wait a few more months? Or at least until we got home?”

He was chastising me, and I just wasn’t there to hear it. I probably could have figured it out if I’d tried, but it all sounded like sexy nonsense at the time. Walking my fingers down his chest, I paused at his belly before hooking them in his pants and pulling his hips against mine.

“I’m allowed to drink if my daddy says so,” I purred.

Spencer didn’t find my taunt as charming as I’d hoped, and before I knew it his hand was roughly pressed over my jaw. He tilted my head back to look him in the eyes, and I wondered if he could smell the whiskey on my breath.

“Well, I didn’t,” he growled.

I never said I was a perfect person, or even a smart one. And when I was drinking and Spencer whipped out his Daddy voice, I don’t know what he really expected me to do. But apparently, trying to grab his dick through his pants was the wrong move. He snatched my hand away quickly, slamming it against the wall before he continued his little impromptu lecture.

“I’m not rewarding you for this. We’re going home.”

“That’s not a very scary threat,” I deadpanned, throwing my body weight back against the wall.

That lasted about four seconds before he pulled me back to my feet and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Just wait, little girl. Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on you.”

I was going to make a snarky joke, to remind him that his hands were surely and firmly already on me, but I never got the chance. We were both too distracted by the very loud and very high pitched squeal of Penelope as she rounded the corner.

“Ah! I saw nothing!” she shouted, covering her face with her hands and refusing to remove them.

“Yeah, because we aren’t doing anything,” I laughed. But then, being the slightly cruel brat that I was, I stuck my tongue out at Spencer before tacking on a completely unnecessary, “anymore.”

“We weren’t doing anything before either!” he squeaked back. He wasn’t using his Daddy voice anymore. So swiftly, so easily, he’d been knocked from his higher footing.

Penelope took the words to heart, but only enough to slowly lower her fingers and peek between them. With a shaky voice and an awkward laugh, she started to rant. “Oh. It’s fine. I’m cool. We’re all cool. We don’t have to talk about that thing from the first time I met you ever again. Because we said we’d never talk about it again, do you remember that?”

“I do remember that,” I answered with a very sarcastic tone and a nod.

“And I just brought it up again, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “Yes, you did.”

“I’m so sorry. Spencer, Hotch is looking for you,” she rushed, turning to the beet-red boy at my side. “Okay, that’s it. Take your time, because I’m cool and not at all mortified.” She was basically already gone before she'd even finished talking, taking off in the direction she'd come from while downing the drink in her hand.

With a loose, clumsy wave I shouted back, “Bye, Penelope.”

“Mortified is a good word. An accurate word,” Spencer huffed as he wiped a hand over his face. His bashfulness, while cute, was not as exciting as the pre-Penelope behavior.

Running my hands underneath his blazer and up his back, I pressed my chest against his. “Gosh, Dr. Reid. You need to be more appropriate in such a public setting.”

The words, while meant to get him riled up, did more to frustrate me. My drunken mind was more than happy to revert to the metro, and before I knew it, my daydreams were filled with images of Spencer stuffing me into the tiniest closet he could find and having his way with me.

“Oh, I’m the one lacking manners?” Spencer chuckled as he apparently read my very lewd thoughts. He pried my arms off of him and pulled them back to rest at my sides before pressing a strangely chaste kiss on my forehead. “Go get your stuff. I’m going to go talk to Hotch and I’ll meet you by the door.”

Before he disappeared around the corner, he shot me one last warning glance and ordered, “Do not mingle!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” I yelled back.

Once he was gone, it was my job to figure out how to make my body work again. Luckily, it wasn’t the first time I’d had too much to drink in a room filled with drunk adults. Granted, they usually weren’t all cops, but, whatever.

Turns out, it somehow made it easier. I managed to grab my things off the counter without alerting anyone except Penelope, who quickly turned back around with a blush. She probably figured I was gonna go blow him in the bathroom or something. I’d have been offended if the thought hadn’t literally just crossed my mind. I made it all the way to the door before I heard it. Back through the halls, a few of the group had separated to talk about how much harder it had been to see Hotch and JJ. It was nothing, just a little bug spreading through daycares like wildfire. That wasn’t what upset me, though.

No, the thoughts running through my head were more than just a passing thought of kids sick with a cold. I looked up at the walls of the entryway to Rossi’s home and saw intricate moulding and nothingness. I saw the exquisite, pristine rug underneath my feet, and I thought about how lonely it felt.

I was standing in a house that should have felt happy, filled with friends and family and love. There was no doubt that everyone who was there wanted to be there, and probably had nowhere else they’d rather be. But the tall ceilings and thousands of square feet felt so goddamn empty.

It isn’t the building, I heard a tiny, terrified voice call out from inside my own conscience.

It’s you. You’re empty.

I had to leave. I had to get out of the house. I had to hear the silence so that the nothingness would feel more appropriate and less noticeable. I couldn’t let them see me, because if they saw me, they would know. They would know that I was nothing but a husk of the girl they used to know. Without even thinking, I threw the door open, stumbling forward and almost falling flat on my face as I misjudged the small step down to the patio.

“Fuck!” I muttered, the world rocking around me with a stubborn persistence. If it weren’t for the frankly freezing temperature, I was sure I would have been sick. To make matters worse, there was a person quickly approaching.

“Hey, are you and Spence leaving already?”

It was JJ. Thank god, it was JJ. Probably the only person who wouldn’t make fun of me for being a mess on Rossi’s steps after only a few shots of whatever Morgan was drinking.

“Oh. Hey, JJ. Yeah. He’s…” I turned to my side, half expecting Spencer to be there to answer for me. But he wasn’t, so I ended up just pointing to the closed door before slurring, “he’s doing a thing.”

She was, per usual, very kind when faced with my buffoonery, and just laughed as she shook her head. “A thing. Sounds like him.”

I honestly thought that would be the end of it. It was a good, easy segue into a farewell. She already knew we were leaving, and she knew Spencer well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave me alone for long.

And I think she almost did leave. She almost walked right past me and into the warmth and comfort of a home filled with family and friends. But she didn’t. She stopped and asked me the one question I was really hoping she wouldn’t.

“Are you alright?”

I didn’t want her to ask because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Even if I could have managed it, she would have seen right through me in a second. Not only would it have been an exercise in futility, but she would also know that I thought it was worth it to try to lie.

So, I was honest… quite possibly too honest.

“No, not really. But it’s a lot and I’m kind of drunk, so…”

The mom eyes appeared so quickly, with JJ’s body turning entirely away from the door and over to me. “Not usually a good combination, but an understandable one,” she softly replied, wrapping her arms around herself to make up for the fact that she was sacrificing her comfort in many different ways to talk to me, instead.

She was probably just being nice— staying with me until Spencer could come take over the babysitting of the drunk twenty year old, but I wasn’t exactly thinking critically at the time. Which is only part of the reason why I blurted out the only thing on my mind; the thing that had been haunting me for longer than I wanted to admit even to myself, much less another person.

“Has Spencer ever talked to you about kids?”

The air, still freezing, also fell uncomfortably silent.

“Oh…” she mumbled under her breath, clearly unsure of how to handle that particular minefield of a topic. Especially with her best friend’s girlfriend, who also happened to be drunk. I almost told her to forget about it, but then she looked up at me with a powerful resolve. “Yeah, he has. Why?”

I thought about my next words more carefully, although you wouldn’t have been able to tell considering how much I stuttered.

“Do you think… Do you think he’d be happy if… I can’t have them?” I asked, wringing my hands together over my stomach. “Like, not just happy today, but like ten years from now?” I could hear how desperate I sounded, but I needed someone to hear the words playing on loop in my mind. Absolutely frantic and with tears pooling in my eyes, I asked, “Do you think he’d still love me if I can’t give him kids?”

“(Y/n), slow down. It’s okay!” JJ urged, lunging forward to cup my cheeks and gently wipe away any stray tears. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your make up and it looks like you spent a lot of time on it.”

I had to laugh because not only was it my exact brand of humor, she said it with such a serious face that I had to wonder if it was genuinely her biggest concern. Of course, I knew it wasn’t. In her usual JJ way, she just knew the easiest way to cheer me up was with a laugh.

“Yeah, there’s like $80 on my face, it’s really not worth it to cry,” I agreed, sniffling softly when she finally pulled away her hands. At least I could blame that part on the cold.

“Exactly. And if you cry, then I’ll cry, and then I’ll also ruin my make up, and we’ll just be $150 down the drain with nothing to show for it,” she joked with a tired roll of her eyes and a shrug.

Together, we laughed, finding a pocket of warmth in a world that often felt too cold. Behind JJ’s eyes though, I saw an empathy I wasn’t expecting. That small, instinctual part of my brain tugged at my heart, telling me that there was an unspoken bond forming. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know why. I had a feeling that it was one of those secrets you just didn’t ask about, so I let it go.

“Thanks. It’s a stupid thought anyway,” I sighed, shuffling my feet and knocking my heels against the somehow spotless patio. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, so why stress about it, right?”

But then JJ said something I wasn’t expecting. Something that I actually really, really needed to hear.

“I don’t know, I think you’re allowed to be worried. It’s normal to feel scared.”

The sentence hit me like a freight train carrying lead and cement. At first, my brain refused to comprehend it at all. I struggled to repeat the idea, not because I was drunk but because it sounded so wrong. I had wanted it to be true so badly, and here she was, telling me it was okay.

Sensing my simultaneous trepidation and revelation, JJ cringed a bit when she said, “But I think it is a good idea to talk to Spence about it instead of me. Because, to be honest, I’ve also had one too many glasses to be helpful.”

That time when I laughed, it was full-hearted and involved every muscle in my body. “God, I love you, Jennifer,” I said through the noise.

She just shook her head, clearly enjoying the drastic mood swing she’d had a great part in. “I love you, too,” she whispered, running her hand over my shoulder and arm to pull me into a small half-hug. And that was how Spencer found us, giggling and sniffling on Rossi’s porch.

“Hey, are you ready to— Oh! Hey JJ,” he stopped, taking a very hesitant step forward in the hope that we wouldn’t both start crying on the spot. Drunk girls had a tendency to do that. “W-What are you guys doing out here?”

She let me go first, shoving her hand, still damp with my tears, into her pockets with a secretive smile. “Girl talk.”

“That usually doesn’t bode well for me,” Spencer answered with an awkward, nervous laugh. He didn’t make a move to grab me yet, probably too scared to step between the two of us. I was too busy giggling at the thought of his mind cycling through all the possible secrets I might have spilled in my uninhibited state.

I was tipsy, but I wasn’t that drunk.

JJ pulled two fingers over her mouth in a cheeky motion as she whispered, “My lips are sealed.”

“An even worse sign,” Spencer winced, turning to finally wrap his arm around me. He must have noticed the chill on my skin, because seconds later he had me practically wrapped in his coat. “I should just cut my losses and get her out of here, huh?”

“Shut up, old man,” I slurred, cuddling closer to his body heat despite my protests. Even in the darkness, I watched the heat bloom in his face at the nickname. By far, the worst part about the situation was the fact that I couldn’t kiss him, because I just knew he would be so warm, and I was really starting to get cold. I suspect that’s why he started to whisk me away, unceremoniously shushing me as JJ cleared her throat and raised her hand in a wave.

Before we got too far, though, I heard her speak again. “Oh! (Y/n), your questions!”

“What about them?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder and nearly falling to the ground as a result.

JJ looked at me, and then back to Spencer, whose arm was wrapped possessively around me. She smiled a pure, toothy grin that filled her face, causing that weird feeling in my gut to flare up again. She saw something in that moment that I wasn’t sure I’d ever really understand, but her voice started to crack just enough to notice when she called out, “The answer is yes. To all of them.”

—————————————————

The ride back to Spencer’s place was uneventful, though I tried very hard to make it interesting. After the fourth time he'd swatted away my hand and threatened to throw me in the back, I gave in to his demand to behave. I blamed my compliance on the alcohol, although it was probably more so a result of total exhaustion.

The respite from socialization was apparently what I needed to be able to function again, because as soon as we pulled into his apartment parking lot, I was awake.

... Awake enough to try and maul him in the hallway. But, in his sober stubbornness, he continued to evade my advances all the way until his front door clicked shut behind us. His hands on my hips had never felt like such a victory before.

“Did you enjoy wreaking havoc all night?” he whispered, slowly leading us towards his room. I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t need to. Even without an eidetic memory, my body cherished this path and the memories it always led to. I trusted him to catch me if I stumbled. Which, I definitely did.

“I’m the cutest devil you’ll ever see,” I slurred.

“At least you admit it,” Spencer laughed. I couldn’t tell if it was at my words or the fact that I was failing terribly at trying to unbutton his shirt. My drunk self was not a skilled multitasker.

Once I felt the bed against the back of my thighs, I hopped on top of the covers before he could even try to help me up. It was muscle memory. We’d been there before.

“I’m feeling more fallen angel tonight,” I sighed, sliding against the comforter until I found his pillow.

Naturally, Spencer saw the way I gravitated to his side. He smiled as he removed his shirt that I’d left mostly intact. “By all means, feel free to stay that way.”

I probably should have taken off my dress, or my shoes, but I didn’t. The world sort of felt like a wave pool on a sunny day, and I was worried that if I paid too much attention to what was going on around me, I'd think about something I really didn’t want to think about.

I couldn’t remember what it was.

But then Spencer’s hands were gliding up and down my calves, and I shuddered at the contact. He took his time removing my shoes before coming up to join me on all fours. I wondered if he could taste the whiskey on my tongue when he kissed me. Did it remind him of the circumstances that had brought us together? Did it remind him of his hangover and sins?

Did he think of monsters when he kissed me?

My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling lightly to try to keep him there. And when he pulled away, I tried to fight him. I tried to follow him, scared that once the kiss was over, I’d start remembering things I probably should have tried to forget.

He must have seen the denial in my eyes, because he hesitated. His hand came up to lightly grab my wrist and lead my hand that had a death grip on his hair down to his face. “Are you too drunk? Should we stop?”

Throwing my head back with a groan, I tried not to hate him for actually caring about me again. “If you stop right now, I’m going to actually scream,” I droned. It got me a laugh, at least.

“That doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.”

Once I opened my eyes, I found myself wishing I hadn’t. It wasn’t that I saw hesitancy or fear in Spencer’s eyes – on the contrary, it was the lack of anything bad at all that bothered me. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a sincere, pure adoration that I couldn’t argue with.

I chose to ignore it, instead. I couldn’t remember why it made my stomach hurt.

“Are you going to make me do a sobriety test?” I giggled, letting my hands travel down his shoulders and chest. I wasn’t in as much of a rush as I had been earlier. I wanted to take my time remembering what it felt like to be pinned under him and surrounded by his embrace.

“I’m positive that you’ve practiced those while drunk,” he playfully replied while trying to hide the way goosebumps followed my fingers as they trailed down to more interesting territory.

“Yeah, I can say the alphabet backwards and everything.”

It was meant as a joke, but Spencer apparently had some doubts. With a scrunched up smile, he laughed back as he asked, “Really?”

The fact that he believed I was capable of something like that might have been flattering if it hadn't been based on his incredibly flawed perception of my propensity to lawbreaking. But since it was based on ideas of immorality rather than intelligence, it just made me mad.

Smacking him lightly on the chest, I both pouted and laughed as I snapped back, “No, of course not, asshole!”

Spencer just grinned, giving a delayed wince at the offensive contact before he sat up again. I didn’t realize why at first, but as he slowly started to coax me into turning around, I remembered that I was, in fact, still fully dressed. I figured it was either his way of saying that I’d won, or just an excuse to take off the dress so I might actually go to sleep. I was fine with either.

“I was drunk the first night we met, if you’ve forgotten,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side of the bed and moving my hair so that he wouldn’t catch any in the zipper.

“I definitely haven’t forgotten that night.”

The nostalgia in his voice was both comforting and painful. We’d always joked about that night, though. It wasn’t an insult at all.

“No? Do you think about it often?” I replied playfully, forcing myself not to think too hard about whether he wished I was still the girl he'd met that day.

Spencer made it easy to forget, with his hand starting to draw the zipper down while he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I think about it all the time.” My breath hitched in my throat at the way his voice warped into a rough, raspy tone. “You almost made me believe that you were just some shy, innocent little girl.”

This time when he got me to turn back over, there was nothing gentle about it. His hands were clearly craving the kind of violence they got to use last time. I wanted to feel them again.

“We can make a new memory if you want,” I panted, looking up at him with wanton eyes and my dress loose enough to expose parts of my breasts to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight below him. He pressed his erection against my hip as he ran a hand over my cheek. “Tell me the rules.”

“I tell you to stop if I need to,” I carefully enunciated.

“Good girl,” he moaned, starting to rock against me. Struggling to pull my dress off himself, he pleaded in a slightly pitiful manner, “Can I…?”

I helped him, desperate to feel his skin against mine. I didn’t even think about what it meant for my dress to be gone. It wasn’t until Spencer’s mouth dropped to my chest so enthusiastically that I realized that he’d failed to stop and kiss my lips first.

With both hands on my breasts, he lavished each pebbled peak with his fingers and tongue. He hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he’d missed me shirtless, but it was painfully obvious in the way his lips trailed along my body. It was obvious in the rumbling of his moans against my skin and the way his hands roughly kneaded the soft tissue.

I was forced to remember why I hadn’t let him see me topless.

I felt naked. Not because of the exposed skin, but because I couldn’t warp reality with lace or cotton anymore. My marred stomach might not have made a physical barrier, but it still made him feel so far away. It was a paralyzing kind of realization, and I felt myself retreat so quickly that it hurt.

Thankfully, it was Spencer who was kissing me. If it had been anyone else, I think I would have just laid there, terrified and small and alone. But I couldn’t do that with him.

“Spencer?” I quietly called, and he immediately stopped, his eyes meeting mine with all the attention a girl could ever ask for. I smiled, and the sensation almost felt foreign.

“Come kiss me here instead,” I said with a little giggle, tapping my lips to bring him back to where I wanted him. And he came to me so quickly, his mouth crashing onto mine in seconds and his hands tangling in my hair.

I had forgotten so quickly how easy it was to get lost in him. Thanks to the alcohol, my mind wasn’t able to stick with any thought for longer than a few seconds. Mixing that with Spencer’s hands and mouth, I was never going to be able to think in more than a few words at a time. And I shouldn’t have needed to, right? It was just sex. We’d done it many times before, and it had never been a disappointment. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of mind — some instinctual warning that told me I was doing something wrong.

I wanted him, so what could be wrong about that? There was nothing painful or unappreciated in the way he lined himself up at my entrance, and I certainly made that much clear. It was hard to even hear him over the sound of my own moans, and my nails dug into his shoulder as I guided him into me with my hips.

“I love you,” I cried, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my heels into the back of his thighs.

“I love you so much, little girl,” he whispered against my lips, his forehead resting against mine.

For a moment, it was okay. The feeling subsided long enough for me to enjoy the fact that Spencer, the man I loved, loved me back. I thought about how long it had taken us to get to this point, and how I never wanted to lose it again. I held onto him for dear life, rocking my hips to meet his and bringing his mouth down to mine.

It was okay, until he spoke again.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into my mouth, “even when you’re being bad you just want to be useful.”

Useful.

The word had come back to haunt me several times in the recent weeks. I hadn’t said anything about it because I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much. There was no reason for me to be upset. He was just saying what I usually liked to hear.

So why did it hurt?

And I realized then, that the reason that experience felt so horrible wasn’t because of me at all. It was because it was Spencer. It was Spencer, the man I loved. There he was, trying to love me and comfort me and hold me and I…

In a rush of emotions and memories and repressed regrets, I was forced to face the fact that I had made a terrible mistake. The kind of mistake that if I didn’t do something about it in that exact, immediate moment, would become a disaster. The kind of disaster that meant he might never want to touch me again. The kind that would make him hate me. The kind that would make him leave and I couldn’t blame him for.

I had made a mistake.

“Wait, wait, Spencer, stop!” I slurred, my hands that had been holding him close seconds earlier shoving him off of me with the little force I was capable of. It didn’t take much, though, considering how fast he jumped back.

Frantic and terrified, he grabbed my face and tried to inspect my eyes that were avoiding him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look at him. “No, I just really need to stop,” I muttered, my breath picking up even more as I slid away from him, “Can I just— Can you just give me a minute?”

My hands slid over my chest, trying to hide the shame I felt inside to no avail. Spencer only made it worse in the way he quickly grabbed clothing, covering me in his shirt before he dressed himself. He even took the time to find me pants and help me in them, quietly and carefully. Like a doll.

I was going to be sick.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he croaked brokenly while he curled up at my side, trying to wrap his arms around me before he realized I was shrinking away from his touch. He was so confused. He had no reason to know what was going on, but I could see on his face that he was desperately trying to figure it out.

“Does this have something to do with what you were talking to JJ about?”

An interesting question. I didn’t know the answer.

“Yes. No? Maybe. I guess?” I ran a hand over my face that landed on my throbbing temple. The lack of tears on my face almost surprised me. I probably should have been crying, but I wasn’t. In a way, it felt like I had no tears left to give. When I turned to him, bile rose in my throat and I was afraid that I might choke on it if I didn’t get the words out faster. I just had to tell him. He needed to know.

“Listen, I lied to you. And I need to say something.”

I had just gotten my breathing under control, just in time for his to go erratic. His pulse was visible in his throat as he swallowed. “Lied to me? About what?”

“I…” The world was rocking, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or my brain trying to comprehend my own self-destructive stupidity. I knew which one I was going to blame, though. “Fuck, I didn’t think I was this drunk.”

“What did you lie to me about?” he repeated, his hands gripping handfuls of the sheet in hopes of stopping the rest of his body from trembling.

“Well, I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you.”

It was the most useless clarification, and it did absolutely nothing to appease his concern. The longer the words stayed stuck and muddled in my mouth, the more devastated he seemed. In hindsight, I would realize all the millions of awful reasons his mind must have been feeding him in the absence of the truth.

“Please, whatever it is, just tell me,” Spencer begged with a hesitant, shaky hand coming to rest on top of mine. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, we both looked down at our hands. It was a mercy and a disservice. I just had to tell him, but I couldn’t convince myself to do it without looking him in the eyes. That didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful that he didn’t look back, though. Because once the words were said, there would be no going back from them.

He was going to hate me.

“I… stopped taking my birth control,” I whispered in a voice that felt so foreign. “Like, a while ago.”

Spencer’s jaw steeled, his eyes widening and shooting up to me with the same speed he used to jump off the bed. Despite my efforts to grab him, to stop him from leaving me, he was five feet away in a matter of seconds.

“What?!” he shouted. It was the loudest I’d ever heard him. Even the echoes felt deafening, and my hands covered my ears with a wince.

“Shit! That was loud!” I whined in a pathetic attempt to make him feel bad for me. I didn’t deserve it, but I think it worked. Because the next time he spoke, it was at a more manageable volume.

“What do you mean you stopped taking your birth control?! When?!”

“Stop yelling at me.” I pulled my knees to my chest and ignored the pain in my stomach when I did so. It felt well deserved.

“You aren’t joking, either. Why didn’t you tell me this?” Spencer continued, his hands raking through his hair while he started to pace the room.

Nothing about it felt real. I felt like I was stuck in one of my million recurring nightmares. I just wanted to wake up, to be somewhere other than in a room too small for the bass in his voice. I only barely saw him when he finally approached me. He still stayed a few feet away, but he met my eyes that stared vacantly at the wall ahead of me.

“Answer me!”

Whether it was the order that broke me or the pain in his voice, all of my resolve and apathy shattered at once.

“You’ve always said you wanted to get me pregnant!” I screamed back, digging my nails into my skin in the hope of finding feeling there.

“Not like this! Not right now!” he scoffed. The sound would have hurt more if he hadn't stepped closer to me when he made it.

“Why not?!” I tried to sound angry, but all I heard was the plea beneath the words.

I just want to be useful. Please let me be useful.

“Are you serious?” Spencer’s disbelief was present in every ounce of his existence. His hands were alternating between fists and flat palms, his voice cracking and wavering in pitch. “What has gotten into you? You know that you can’t have a child right now.”

I bit down on my tongue in one final attempt to keep the scary words inside. But he couldn’t feel the way his words felt just like bullets and scar tissue that would never fully heal again.

“You almost died! Do you—“ he choked, but powered through his body’s attempt to stop the thought. “Do you understand the danger that would put you in?”

“I know, alright?! I know!” The words were loud and hoarse, and I covered my own ears to hopefully drown out the sound of failure on my own tongue. “I know I can’t have a fucking kid right now!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

I don’t know. Please, help me.

He waited for my answer, but it stayed trapped in my head. When I started to rock in place, my hands still clamped over my ears and the tears I swore I didn’t have starting to fall, he sighed.

“Get up, we’re going to the store.”

“Why?” I spat, sinking further into my spot in a purely selfish manner.

“Get up,” he said again, this time reaching out for my hand.

But I didn’t want to touch him. I didn’t want him to touch me like this. I was scared that if I did what he wanted, then the fight would be over. And if the fight ended, then what would be left? Was this all just some elaborate ruse to get me in his car so that he could drive me home and leave me there?

His hand touched mine so softly, with so much patience and love that it burned. Why wasn’t he angrier? He should be.

“No!” I screamed, smacking his hand away from me. Although I knew it didn’t hurt, I saw him wince at the contact. His lips flattened as he looked at the stupid sobbing girl on his bed.

Then he left. He turned on his heel, and with less patience that time, grumbled the explanation he'd refused to give before. “We’re going to the store and getting levonorgestrel so that you don’t make the stupidest mistake of your life.”

It wasn’t the words that got me to move, but the fact that he was quickly leaving the room. I scrambled after him recklessly, crashing into just about every stationary object in the way. The shock had hit me so hard that I forgot I was still drunk.

“Is it really that awful to imagine having a future with me?” I sobbed, chasing after him just to crash into him when he stopped.

He still caught me, but I couldn’t tell you why.

“You know that’s not what this is about.” He sounded so tired, but he kept going. He kept fighting with me even though I could see in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I love you, (y/n)! But you’re acting like… like a child!”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, pushing myself away from him.

I was scared that if I didn’t force our bodies apart, I would have fallen to pieces in his arms again. And I knew he would try to put me back together again. He would try to help me because that’s what he always did. But sometimes things are just completely, irrevocably broken. Sometimes there was simply no fixing it.

Good luck convincing Spencer of that.

“I don’t need this shit and I don’t need to go to the store,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way back into the bedroom to locate my purse that I’d so gracefully thrown on the floor.

“(Y/n), just because the chances of pregnancy are low doesn’t mean they are nonexistent, and I’m not going to be the reason you throw your life away! You said yourself you aren’t ready to be a housewife!” I heard him rambling from the other room. Eventually, he followed the sounds of plastic packaging and rustling paper.

“Shut up,” I groaned, finally getting the tiny pill free and successfully shoving it in my mouth before I managed to drop it. “Just leave me alone, Spencer.”

Obviously, it wasn’t going to work. After all, I was in his apartment, and currently sitting cross legged in the middle of his bedroom and trying to dry swallow a pill that tasted a lot like every mistake I’d ever made.

“When did you buy that? And why do you have it with you?” He didn’t sound angry at all anymore. He didn’t even particularly sound annoyed or confused, just… exhausted.

“You’re welcome for saving you the drive.”

Of all the things he could have done, he chose the one I expected the least. He came to me, and carefully lowered himself to the ground in front of me. At first, that was all he did. He just sat across from me with puppy dog eyes and an awkward posture.

“Look at me,” he called gently.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed, waiting another second to catch his breath and let the earlier emotions settle in the air. “You had that in your purse. Why?” he asked as he reached forward to grab the remnants of the torn up box and confirm that it was what he thought it was. Once he was satisfied, he just sounded even more broken. “You’ve clearly thought about it enough to plan ahead, but apparently I wasn’t important enough to have a say in any of these decisions.”

The pain that was forming in my stomach hurt worse than the AR-15.

“Were you just… Just planning on making those decisions without even telling me?” He was on the verge of tears, though he tried his very best to hide it. It might’ve worked if I'd been both drunk and an idiot, but unfortunately the adrenaline was combatting the alcohol pretty well at that point.

With both hands covering his face, I could still see the way his jaw tensed between the words. “It would be my child, too,” he forced out, “You don’t— You don’t get to make those decisions without me. T-That’s not fair.”

The sounds were so pitiful, and I wanted to feel anything but what I felt. I wanted to feel angry or sad again, but I couldn’t. All I felt was hate; the most powerful, soul crushing self-loathing imaginable.

I didn’t want to be the reason he cried. I wanted it to stop, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t control myself. I just kept rubbing salt in the wound so he would leave. So that I could hate him for leaving me instead of hating myself for making him.

“There’s no kid. I would’ve taken it either way.”

That succeeded in getting a response.

“Then what was the point of any of this?!” he fumed, dropping his hands to gestured to the state of us, dressed in pajamas and tears. “If you really believe that, then why tell me? Why risk it at all?!”

“I don’t know.”

“I deserve a better answer than that. That’s bullshit and you know it,” he demanded with an accusing finger.

But I didn’t know that it was bullshit. Really, it was the truth. I didn’t know why I was doing this. All I knew was that if I stopped, if I was just honest with him, I would have to face a reality I wasn’t ready for.

“I deserve the truth,” he said as his hand fell, unable to stay up under the weight of the feeling behind it.

I looked at him and I saw my mistakes in the form of tears trickling down his cheeks and a tremble in his lips. I saw a man who deserved nothing but the greatest love, begging me to give him something to work with. He wasn’t asking me for the world — he just wanted me to talk. To say something so that he could understand why I wanted him to hate me.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one that either of us would believe, anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spencer.” My lips moved without my permission, and my legs quickly followed the traitorous pursuit.

“What does that mean?” he begged me as he followed me. He followed me like he always did, with that suffocating hopefulness that we could make it.

But what if I couldn’t? What if this was it for me? What if, in my desperate desire to push him away, I was saving him from a miserable life with me?

I was trying to save him.

“It means…” I paused, turning to look him in the eyes so that he might finally hear what he needed to in my answer. “It means you should’ve picked a different 20 year old to fuck.”

His jaw finally relaxed, dropping open with a broken breath.

And I think he saw it. I think he saw the way I meant the words from the bottom of my soul. He heard me tell him that he should regret me while I tried to walk away, and he knew that I meant it.

“I’m leaving.” The words surprised me when I heard them in my own voice, but I followed them, nonetheless. I barreled towards the door with bare feet and my keys in my hand.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave like this.” His statements were logical, but that only served to further piss me off.

“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your property!”

That wasn’t why I was angry. We both knew that wasn’t why. The real reason, the truth behind the reckless self-destruction was approaching too fast and I couldn’t slow it down. Nothing could stop it from rushing down the predetermined path that we stood on, and I was begging him to get off the tracks.

“If you leave right now, you’re going to fucking kill yourself!”

And then it happened. Practically foaming at the mouth with the unhinged rage that had been boiling underneath my skin for too long, I finally managed to let the words go.

“Maybe that’s the fucking point!”

Silence had never been so loud. It had never been that heavy.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that, Spencer?” I laughed because there was no reason in my mind not to. It all seemed so terribly obvious and we’d been skirting around it for so long. Why were we pretending like this was news? Like we hadn’t heard the horns and seen the headlights approaching?

“Please stop.” It was said like a plea but meant as an order. But I never listened to directions and he already knew that.

“I’m not your problem just because you were unfortunate enough to fall in love with me,” I continued, finding a freedom in being able to finally say what I’d been thinking all along. “Put me out of my fucking misery, Spencer. Just let me go.”

“Stop!” he shouted, pulling fistfuls of his hair as his chest heaved with deep, rasping breaths. I’d heard that voice from him before, but only once. The memories were locked away in the part of my brain that I swore to leave locked up.

I was back in the bank. I could feel his hands slipping in blood on my stomach and pressing into my cheeks. I was in the ambulance again. His hands were so warm that they burned, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to leave. I'd had one foot in the grave then. I felt like I was still there, teetering over the edge with nothing but Spencer’s frantic breathing and desperate begging keeping me from jumping in.

“Stop saying that!” Spencer ordered, his hands letting go just enough to come back down on his head with some force. I jumped at the contact and wondered when I'd started feeling his pain, too. I wondered when we'd found ourselves back in his apartment again.

“Y-You aren’t going to die!” He continued. It didn’t have the force of an order or the pathetic breaking of a cry. It was just a statement he was trying to will into existence. An attempt to ward off memories that reminded him he was capable of losing me. He had already almost lost me once. In a way, it was this same scenario.

It was just that he wasn’t losing me quickly from a gunshot wound. No, I was bleeding out in an entirely different way.

“You can’t— I can’t lose you. I can’t do it again,” he sobbed, falling to his knees and not caring at all about the bruises that would follow. The sight of him collapsing in on himself was terrifying, and I realized for the first time the true consequences of my actions. I couldn’t pretend that I was trying to save him anymore. I couldn’t listen to the congested, barely comprehensible ramblings of a man begging me not to want to die and act like I was thinking of him at all.

I was being selfish. How very much like me.

“Please, anything but that. You can hate me forever, but please don’t…” The words trailed off, and I felt compelled to answer them. I needed something to release the knot in my chest and allow my lungs to fill again.

“I don’t hate you, Spencer. I could never hate you.” The words were infuriating in their honesty, but he needed to hear them. He needed to know that none of this was his fault, that he’d done nothing wrong other than meet me.

I couldn’t leave him like that. He deserved so much better than me, but that was all that I had. So, I climbed down next to him, reaching out to him and hoping that he would hold me back.

To my surprise, he did. His hands grabbed mine like they were a lifeline, bringing them to his lips wet with tears. And although he was silent, I could hear the way he prayed that they wouldn’t fade away from him again.

“I-I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you. I’m supposed to be the adult here, I’m supposed to know how to fix these things, but I have no idea what I’m doing, (y/n).”

It was an admission Spencer didn’t often make. The complete helplessness and inability to fix the puzzle before him didn’t just hurt because it was painful to watch, it was also just another reminder of his limits.

One time he had promised me that he wouldn’t let anything hurt me. I should have told him that it was a stupid promise to make then. I should have showed him the skeletons in my closet and the mess in my hands.

But it didn’t matter anymore. He had already seen it, and it was too late. I’d made too many mistakes, and I had to face them. I couldn’t run away anymore. That meant listening to Spencer, pouring his heart out to me and clutching my hands like they would turn to nothing in front of him.

“You’re falling apart and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to make this stop hurting. I don’t know how to help you. Sometimes you’re so happy but other times I can see it in your eyes…”

Our eyes met, unguarded, for the first time in what felt like hours but was actually probably only a few minutes. We looked into each other’s eyes and tried to read each other’s minds. I didn’t know what he saw, but I heard the way it struck him.

“Do you… Do you want to leave me?” he asked.

And I realized then, that was what my behavior was leading up to. That was what my mind was racing towards, without ever considering whether it was what was best for me. Because I wasn’t thinking about what was best for me, or what I wanted, or what I should want. All I cared about was the same concern Spencer had for me— I didn’t want him to throw his life away just to be with me.

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Spencer heard something in my question that brought life back to his eyes. I wished that I could hear his thoughts because he always seemed so much farther ahead. Like he could see the immediate future and knew what would follow.

Then again, maybe I was just idealizing him. I had a tendency to do that. He wasn’t a superhero. He was just a man, trying his best in a world that never really let him rest. I certainly didn’t help with that.

“No. No, that’s not what I want at all,” he said, his hands finding the courage to let go of mine and slide up my arms. He cupped my face with such an urgency and relief that it almost felt the same as before I had uttered those terrifying words. “I told you I want to marry you and I wasn’t kidding.”

It only took a few words for any progress and vulnerability to be obliterated. Four words. That’s all it took.

I want to marry you.

A white picket fence is what I’d promised him. I'd painted a vivid image of us with two children that were just like him. A normal, domestic life is what I’d said.

I hadn't known. I'd made a mistake. I had lied.

“Stop fucking saying that!” I wished the fight would leave my body and let my weary muscles rest, but it kept coming back. Sure as the sun rises in the morning, I couldn’t let go of the hatred. It had to go somewhere, and Spencer continued to be the stupid, stubborn man putting himself in front of me without any defenses.

I don’t think he was expecting that, though. He jumped back at the sound, his hands bracing his fall as I flailed to get away from him. I didn’t have the energy or coordination to stand, so I just let myself fall to pieces on the floor in front of him.

“Stop telling me about this future you have planned for us b-because I’m a useless, idiotic fuck up, and it’s freaking me the fuck out!”

Naturally, the only thing that could incense Spencer more than violating his trust was, apparently, talking badly about myself. Because as soon as he heard the words, he was wound up just the same.

“What are you so afraid of?!”

Without thinking about the words, implications, or consequences, I gave him the answer he fought for. I gave it to him because I couldn’t hold it any longer. I gave it to him and hoped that it would grant me the closure he sought, too.

“That I won’t ever be able to give you a baby and you’re going to fucking leave me!”

Spencer, in all his shock and disbelief, could only utter back a single, exasperated, “…What?” The way the word fell out of his mouth almost sounded like a laugh, the side of his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.

“I’m scared that when I stop being useful to you, you’re going to leave me like everyone else,” I explained, my voice as small as I felt in that moment.

But Spencer, in his uncanny ability to predict the future, was trying not to smile. Don’t get me wrong — he wasn’t laughing at me, and the words certainly brought him no joy. But there was something else buried beneath the suffering.

“Come here,” he requested with a sad, small grin and a wave of his hand. When he saw the hesitance on my face, he beckoned me closer again with more feeling. “I want to talk to you. Come here.”

So I came. I came as close to him as I could. And as I practically sat in his lap, I remembered how much easier it was to breathe when he held me, and how much lighter the tears felt when he wiped them a way.

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you?” he asked through a chuckle, like the very notion was so unbelievable that it couldn’t be uttered as anything other than a joke.

“Y-You want kids,” I mumbled, looking down at our t-shirts wet with tears. I played with the hem of his to remind myself that we were both still there. And although Spencer sympathized, he didn’t seem too keen on me looking away at that particular moment. With a gentle finger under my chin, he guided my eyes back to his.

“Okay. So do you, right?”

“Well, yeah…” I paused and pursed my lips and bit down on the bottom one. I waited until he raised his eyebrows in a challenge before I explained. “But what if I can’t have any?”

Spencer’s face scrunched up with his shoulders in a dismissive shrug, “There are other ways to have kids. I’m not worried about that at all.”

Just like that, he’d waved away my fears of inadequacy and failure like they were smoke from an already snuffed out candle. He made it so clear so quickly that biology wasn’t the thing that mattered. That it wasn’t my genetics or physical traits that made him want to share a literal life with me.

Spencer didn’t need me to have his children; he just wanted me to raise some with him.

“Why are you worried about that? Did something happen?” he pressed forward, unsatisfied with the idea that I might still be carrying some heaviness without his assistance.

“The doctor told me that I might not ever be able to have my own kids and I just...”

I should have known better than to doubt the insistence of his greedy hands. They would never let a burden belong solely to me. And I… didn’t want to bear the weight alone anymore, either. The dam was broken, and my heart came rushing out into his waiting arms.

“I’m so tired of it, Spencer. I’m tired of this stupid shit stealing my life away from me. You’ve been taking care of me for months, a-and the way you look at me sometimes-- I can see it on your face. I can feel the way it hurts you just to look at me.”

That hurt flashed in his eyes right then but faded with a swiftness I hadn’t seen in a long time. He didn’t want me to see it yet. One fight at a time, I heard him think. When this shifted load balanced between us again, we could figure the rest out.

First, we had to settle this. It had to end.

“If I can’t give you children, and I can’t... I can’t make you happy then—“

“Stop,” he demanded, his finger coming up to cover my lips. There was no argument to be made at his protest. With a deathly seriousness veiled with bowed brows and a lip that still trembled, Spencer whispered to me, “You can feel however you want to, but you don’t get to decide how I feel.”

Tears welled in both of our eyes, threatening to fall with the other. But they didn’t, they stayed pooled at our lashes and drowned us in visions of haloed lights and blurry reflections.

“I am so happy with you. No matter what. Every second of every day. Do you understand me?”

The only answer I had the strength to give was my surrender. Collapsing forward into his arms, I buried my face into his shoulder. I reveled in the warmth of his chest and the strength of his hands on my back. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek as the deep, joyful breaths he took in came out as relieved laughter.

“I love you, (y/n).”

He must have heard, or at least felt, my soft groan in response, because he peeled me off of him with a smirk. “What’s wrong now?” he asked in an equally tired whine.

“You only use my name when you’re angry or sad,” I grumbled through a pout. It only felt a little silly, to joke about something so stupid minutes after screaming our hearts at each other. We were just so tired, and the finish line was in sight. We just wanted to cross it together, and preferably with less tears involved.

Spencer didn’t say any of that, but I felt it, nonetheless. It was clear in the way he pushed my hair from my face before running his fingers down my jaw. “I use your name when I’m worried,” he corrected. “And you scared me tonight. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way.”

We were toeing the line back into heavy emotions, and I shook my head to ask him not to take me back there tonight. But I couldn’t blame him at the same time. He’d so gracefully handled all of my fears and rage; he deserved a chance to voice his own. They’d fallen so far behind in the race towards the truth.

“I understand you were scared to tell me, but...” he stopped, trying to find a way to explain it without hurting my feelings. He really was too nice to me.

“I know. It was stupid. I feel terrible,” I finished for him. Once my face hit his shoulder again, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” I said with almost all of the energy I had left. He stroked soothing patterns over my back, and after a moment I realized that we’d started to rock. I wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or mine.

“I appreciate your apology, but please promise me that you’ll talk to someone about this,” he humbly requested, his words muffled in my hair.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”

It was almost a joke. Spencer wasn’t going to let it go, though. “Don’t try to be clever with me, little girl. I need you to talk to someone who knows how to help you,” he playfully scolded.

Through a yawn and a chuckle, I pressed on in my attempt to end the night on a horrible joke. “Isn’t that your whole job?”

“Yeah, I guess it is sometimes, huh?” he agreed halfheartedly. Really, he was only trying to give me a little bit of a win. We both knew his job wasn’t very good at helping people before the fact. It was just another poor attempt at avoiding healing. I had been holding on to that anger so tightly that there wasn’t room for us in the space that was left.

“But I think you also know I can’t be that person for you,” Spencer eloquently said, cradling my head as it started to rock with each motion.

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, “I promise.”

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but no matter what, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough. The rhythm of his heart evened out over time, settling into the lullaby I needed to finally find some rest. But realistically, we couldn’t sleep there. Spencer was kind enough to practically carry me back into the bed we had shared when this all started, although this time he laid beside me.

From there, he helped tuck me in and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. My eyes were closed, but the smile that spread over my cheeks was enough of a signal that I was still awake.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

My bloodshot eyes opened at his call, and I found love staring back at me. I knew he could see my eyes bouncing back and forth as I tried to see all of it at once in his eyes, and I didn’t care. Even when he kissed me, neither of us closed them.

“We don’t have to worry about anything,” he said as our mouths broke apart. His thumb swept over my cheeks to all the places I knew he was thinking about kissing. There was a very poor attempt to hide his smile at the thought of the future, but I appreciated the effort he put in.

“When you’re ready to try to have kids, I’ll be right there with you,” he said.

It was clear that Spencer really wanted it to be a meaningful sentiment, but I was still a little bitter at his failure to laugh at my previous terrible jokes. So when I saw the opportunity, I took it swiftly and with no regrets.

“I sure hope so, or else I don’t think it’ll work,” I muttered through the side of my mouth before turning onto my back.

Spencer’s first carefree giggle of the night was my prize, and I couldn’t have loved it any more. “That’s my little girl,” he cooed, curling up against my side and wrapping a possessive arm over my chest.

Just before my eyes fluttered shut, I saw movement below my face. I kept them open long enough to see his pinky presented to me and a knowing look in his eyes. “Everything will be alright as long as we have each other,” Spencer offered.

And despite our bad history with promises, I had no reasons left to doubt that one.

—————————————————

| Part 21 |

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #h2m #spencer reid self insert #angst #smut

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in-superbloom · 3 years

Text

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.

#anna writes #perhaps she does write after all #alright i'm gonna go hide somewhere now bye #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin fic #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin x oc #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #ashton irwin imagine #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #anna writes: rwylm

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