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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

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nothing to forgive;

full masterlist

Pairings: dark!Ransom Drysdale x female!reader

Word count: 4,014

Warning: smut!!! BDSM, use of toys, dirty talk, stalking, humiliation. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: there’s nothing more dangerous than a jealous ransom drysdale.

a/n: this is for @imanuglywombat’s 4k writing challenge. i chose the song “jealous” by labyrinth with the city as for the moodboard. i know it’s a heartbreak song but i just couldn’t resist taking ransom to the extreme with the title. this was fun to write. hope you like it. please leave a like & comment. enjoy!

If there’s anything to describe Ransom as a lover, it would be a jealous one. No, he’s not exactly an insecure boyfriend. He knows the appeal that he possesses and the charisma that he carries. He knows with that dashing face of his, he could get any woman he desired, with only the touch of those aquatic orbs and that enticingly smug attitude.

And of course, he had you wrapped around his finger too. And he liked it while it lasted. But what he strongly does not like is when someone dares to even think about getting close to what’s his.

You, a fierce, headstrong woman; someone who had no interest in wasting her time on incompetent men who were incapable of keeping up with you and your swiftly flourishing career. You were too busy building your thriving makeup company that is soon to be an empire. You were proud of your baby.

And you weren’t talking about Ransom, hell no.

He lost you the moment you found out that he slept with another woman whilst he was on his trip to London doing God knows what. Ransom likes to go on random lavish trips because his inane brain has no idea what should he spend his money on. The money that he didn’t even work for a day in his life. The money that he was so entitled to because of his family’s wealth.

You really liked Ransom at one point. Your families grew up together and you and him hooked up every now and then every time he was in New York, the city where you lived or you were back home and needed to release some tension.

He was hot and he knew your body inside out well enough to give you a good orgasm. And so, last summer, you two began dating after he jokingly asked you out after you gave him one of the best blowjobs in his life. You rejected him at first but he kept insisting until you had no other choice but relented. He was such a persevering man when he wanted to be.

It lasted for an entire summer, he would go back and forth to New York to see you and fuck you on every surface of your apartment or he would take you to his five stars hotel and aggravate the other guests by making you moan like you two owned the place.

Until last Christmas when he didn’t even tell you that he was going to London, which you only found out through Linda Drysdale when you visited the Drysdale household. You weren’t one to be a clingy girlfriend, but when your ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t even inform you at all that he was going on a spontaneous trip, it was pure outrageous.

When he went back to Boston three days later after his unbeknown trip, he went straight to your parents’ house where you were staying for another late-night rendezvous. Your parents weren’t home yet due to them being at a Christmas party that you weren’t interested in attending so you had to pretend that you had unbearable cramps and that you needed to stay at home.

Ransom didn’t spot your parents’ car so he knocked on the front door and waited until one of your maids opened it. You didn't expect him to return this soon so you didn’t bother leaving a message to your maids that if Ransom comes, don’t open the door for him. So he went straight to your bedroom and there was a contented smile on his face.

“Hey babygirl, I’ve missed you.” He took off his coat and hung it on your study chair.

“What the hell are you doing here, Ransom?” You truly didn’t expect to see him tonight. You were in the middle of answering some of your work emails regarding the packaging of your upcoming eyeshadow palette. Work didn’t stop despite the calendar saying it’s Christmas.

“Well I had to see you first after my trip, baby. You know I’ve missed you.”

“You asshole! You didn’t even fucking tell me that you were going to London!” You got up from bed, ready to punch him on his stupid gorgeous face.

“Sorry, baby, it was a last-minute trip. I just had to get away from my shitty family before Christmas comes so I don’t have to see all of them. I didn’t tell you because I wanted to surprise you when I get back.” He kissed you before you could even reply. You’d never admit it but the way he plays his tricks with his lips always prevails every fiery emotion in you. So you decided to let it go. Not that you had much of a choice anyway when his hands were already roaming under your oversized sweater before taking it off of you.

After making you cum twice and chased his own release, Ransom fell asleep seconds away next to you. You couldn’t help but admire his sculpted figure as you were lying bare next to him. He looked so… gentle when he was sleeping. Anything that he wasn’t when he’s wide awake.

Sometimes you wondered, is there a future for the both of you? You weren’t one to settle down and have kids. You loved your freedom and you would like to hold on to your youth a little longer. Marriage and kids are going to make you feel like you gained 50 years into your age and you weren’t ready for that. You don’t think you’d ever be, honestly.

But if you could take a look into the future to see whether you and him are going to stay together or not, you would. You didn’t want to waste your time by committing to a man when you could be sleeping around with actors and models. Of course, you could do that too whilst still dating him. He didn’t have to know. But, if there’s anything that you execrated is cheating.

You took pride in your deep-rooted loyalty. You didn’t share your love with too many people but the lucky ones who do have a piece of your heart were promised of your devotion. And that includes Ransom.

Not for long though.

You rose to your feet to use the lavatory in your room. After you were done, you walked to your study chair where Ransom’s coat was placed and then you grabbed it with the intention of hanging it on the coat hanger. Gosh, Ransom could be quite disorganized sometimes.

You had this habit before you put your raiments where they belong, you’d always rummage through the pockets to make sure that you didn’t forget a valuable item there that would cause you to act frantic because you need it and your life would be on the line if you lost it.

You checked the left pocket and nothing was there until you felt something soft inside Ransom’s right pocket. It felt like a material made of lace. You took it out and then… The garment that you had in your hand felt like a slap on the face.

Whose fucking red underwear is this?

You immediately woke Ransom up and he was confused as hell. Why the fuck were you suddenly going apeshit at nearly 3 AM? His drowsy state fought hard to adjust his vision to the lighting in the room.

“What the hell y/n?”

“Care to explain this?” You shoved the red lace underwear onto his face.

His eyelids instantly dilated. Oh shit, he’s been caught.

“Whose fucking panties is this, Ransom? Did you fuck a bitch in London?”

Instead of giving you the answer you already knew, he only stalled by saying “baby, calm down, alright? Let me explain.”

But he didn’t need to. The look of trepidation on his face pretty much gives everything away. “You. Fucking. Cheater. Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Shh! Just give me a second to explain, okay?”

“I don’t wanna hear anything that comes out of your mouth. Now get the fuck out of my house! Out! Now!” He was still naked but you couldn’t care less. You grabbed all of his clothes that were scattered on the floor and his coat and threw them along with the alibi of his misconduct at him. You pushed him out of your bedroom door until you both reached the front door of your house. He was still trying to make you stop and listen to him but you didn’t give him a chance.

He stood on your porch naked and hurriedly put on his clothes. It was a private residence so he didn’t have to worry about the neighbours seeing him naked. Not that he cared anyway, but still, the embarrassment of being thrown out while he was still nude was what he dreaded.

The next day, he tried to call you for God knows how many times and left you hundreds of text messages. He tried visiting you the next day but you refused to let him in. You asked your security guard to block him from entering the house. You told your parents what happened and your overprotective father was enraged.

He even went as far as facing Ransom himself at the gate to warn him that if he ever came anywhere near you again, your father wouldn’t hesitate in hiring a private bodyguard for you to keep him away from you. Well, with your rising fame and success, you figured you eventually were going to need one anyway, but now that you had an unrelenting cheater in your ledger, he might need to hire a highly trained one for you sooner.

You dumped him officially on a phone call and before you ended it, the last thing that he said to you was “without me, all you’ll find is heartbreak and misery.” He gritted through his teeth.

“Goodbye, Ransom.” Then you pressed the end the call button and blocked his number. You changed yours and then a few days after New Year, you fled back to New York. Your company was waiting for you.

For the next several months you kept yourself occupied with your work. You were thrilled for the launching of your new eyeshadow palette. The stress accelerated to a much level higher that you didn’t even have a second to think about Ransom. You hadn’t heard from him for a while and you certainly liked to keep it that way. There’s no room for a cheating, lying, lazy scumbag in your life.

A part of you couldn't help but feel grateful that you broke up with him before the clutter in your work increased. You weren’t sure that you were capable of maintaining a relationship with someone that you don’t near to. You would’ve had to make time to see him and it would’ve been a major distraction.

You held a party to celebrate the launch of your new eyeshadow palette, to say you were nervous would be an understatement, there was nothing more that you feared than failure. Despite being fortunate enough to be born into a wealthy family, you still spent years saving up money and studying hard in college to major in dual degree; business and cosmetology to construct your dream makeup line.

And now, for the first time, the eyeshadow palette that you had been tirelessly crafted to perfection, is going to be available for purchase on your website. The countdown shows there’s only two minutes and thirty seconds left until every makeup enthusiast gets to put it on their shopping cart.

You were holding a glass of rose champagne in your hand whilst giving a speech to the team that you loved so dearly because they were your second family. You didn’t see them as the people who “work for you” but rather, you saw them as equals; your partners and your biggest supporters. Without them, this entire makeup line wouldn’t be standing so tall.

What you didn’t realize was, through the glass-structured building, Ransom was watching you like a hawk. He had his hands in his pocket and he had his gaze fixated on one person only and it was you. Despite the distance and the crowd, his focus didn’t bend.

The past few months for Ransom had been filled with acrimony by his wounded ego caused by being dumped. He couldn’t get anywhere near you due to your heavily guarded apartment building. You even had your own bodyguard now. Great. He was taller and bulkier than Ransom and he wasn’t foolish enough to try to fight the big guy.

You also ordered every security guard in your office, which is the headquarter for your makeup company, that if Ransom ever dared to show his face, they must get rid of him immediately. The only way Ransom could get to you is by stalking you on social media through your company’s official Instagram account and your rising personal account too.

He really thought that it would only take a month before you come crawling back to him. Ransom was so used to getting his way that he strongly condemned being rejected. He would do whatever it takes to have you back.

Whatever it takes.

He had everything prepared meticulously for months. He waited for the right moment to execute the plan and then you would never be able to escape him ever again.

What he didn’t see coming was you going on a date and laughing with a man he didn’t recognize. He really thought that you wouldn’t be dating again for at least a year but he clearly he was mistaken. He thought you secretly missed him but you had too much pride to admit it. He also thought that you could’ve done better than that.

Who the hell does this guy think he is swooping in on his girl like that? His jealousy whispered wicked things into his ears like a red-horned devil. He had waited in his car in front of your apartment building thirty minutes before you left. He found a way to bug your phone without your knowledge and from there, he could monitor every single text, every single phone call and every single person you associate with.

He did a background check on this bloke who was a few years younger than him, making him someone your age. The result showed that he had gone to the same university as you and now he had his own publishing company located in New York as well.

This fella named William had the same distinctive features as Ransom; a brunet with blue eyes, which means, you probably had a type. “So fucking predictable.” He thought whilst he was scrolling through this stranger’s biography. The man was just as tall as him. He posed in a dark grey suit with a tie that synchronizes with the look for the camera.

Apparently, you had run into him at one of the finest restaurants in town when you were having dinner with your girlfriends. He had come up to you to make sure that it was you. You two chatted, catching up on things and he charmed you by asking the one thing you were most passionate about which was your cosmetic line. You exchanged numbers and after talking for a few weeks, he asked you out and you said accepted.

You truly didn’t do anything halfway. When you were going out, whether it be with your friends, for a party or on a date with some guy you used to go to college with, you were dressed to the nines. You looked so crushingly stunning, your beauty dazzled him like daylight. He couldn’t blame this fella though, there’s a reason why he asked you on a date first before this schmuck inserted himself between the two of you. He had to have you and once he got you, he blew his chance. He lost you.

Not for long though. You belonged to him and only him.

You walked into the restaurant as the jazz music serenaded your ears. You asked the receptionist looking for someone named “William” and she led you to a table in the centre of the room, with a good-looking man sitting there in his raven suit.

You greeted William and then made your order when the server came with the menu. You ordered a bottle of Champagne, and you were truly enjoying the company of this man. He was courteous, smart and a little shy for someone as smart and as successful as him. Maybe it’s time to get yourself back in the dating game.

Not all men are Ransom Drysdale.

Ransom couldn’t stand seeing you laughing at his jokes and touching his hand. He didn’t have it in him to wait for another second to let you roam in your freedom without being his. He was going to do it tonight, but he had to do it before you reach your apartment where your personal bodyguard would be guarding you like a fort.

So he went to the parking lot two blocks north of the restaurant. There was nobody there so he had to act fast before someone came. He used a screwdriver to unlock the door of your car and once he succeeded, he sat in the backseat and obscured himself within the absence of light.

Now all he had to do was wait…

The date was lovely but it was time to go home. As much as you loved dressing up in your Lobouton heels and flaunting your beauty downtown, the thought of your warm bed and cozy pyjamas make your heart flutter. You didn’t know if there will be a second date or not, and even if he asked, you weren’t sure whether you’d say yes or no this time, but it was nice to catch up with fellow alumni.

You walked to where your car was parked and unlocked the driver’s seat car and sat behind the wheel. You revived the engine by pushing the ignition starter and adjusted the rearview mirror but what reflected on the glass made your heart drop like a beat.

“…Ransom? What the hell are you-”

But before you could finish your vexed question, Ransom pressed a drugged handkerchief onto your nose and despite your attempt to fight him, his strength overpowered you. Then in a matter of seconds, everything turned black.

You woke up with a sore head as you slowly felt your visions turning pellucid, it took you a few seconds to realize that the dress you wore had been stripped away from you. Your undergarments were also no longer covering your bare body from the cold… What the hell?

You began to realize that you were currently in a cramped, dimmed room with a single pillowless bed in the centre. There were many other sex toys that you were familiar with, you even had some in your drawer, and there were also a few other contraptions in the room that looked like they belong in a sex dungeon.

When you tried to move, only then your brain began to discern the state you were imprisoned in. You couldn’t move and you couldn’t pull your limbs away for they were secured with a device that you couldn’t see due to the position you were in.

Your cheek was pressed on the futon mattress and when you tried to scream, you couldn’t form any words for there was a ball gag in between your lips. You tried to scream but that only made you drool even more, making a tiny pool on the leather material.

You squealed, trying to get any help from anyone out there who might listen but then you heard the sound of the creaking door opening and someone entered the room. You tried to give them a single to set you free by making incoherent noises.

But all you heard was; “well, well, well, look what we have here.”

That voice. That voice sounds familiar. Your mind tried to distinguish it, and then you realized… It was Ransom. You remember it now, you walked into your car after a date with William, you saw him in the backseat through the rearview mirror and then you couldn’t recall anything else that happened after that.

And now here you were, bound by a percontator, exposed and helpless in a strange, unknown place. You began to thrash your body but it was futile, the device really did an excellent job in keeping you immobile.

“Hush now, dirty whore. You really think you could escape me forever? You must be dumber than I took you for.”

You heard the sound of unbuckling belt then he took off his shirt behind you. “No amount of protection can keep you away from me. I’ll make sure of that.”

He stepped into the mattress and lowered himself to his knees. He didn’t wast any second in placing the tip of his cock near your entrance then he intruded your body with his length. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and kept your head there in place. He spanked your right ass before he began moving.

“Ah,” he groaned. “I’ve always loved this pussy. Always so fucking tight.” He accelerated his pace and he grabbed your hair, forcing you to look up at him through your tearful eyes. “Is this what you want? To be fucked like a bitch? ‘Cause I will, whenever I fucking want to.” He gritted through his pounding.

You could only moan and cry. Your mind took you back to the last Christmas eve when you caught him cheating. “Did you fuck a bitch in London?” He was deriding you by weaponizing your own words against you.

He put your head back on the mattress and kept thrusting brutally. He spanked you once more and you shrieked. He loved the sound of your agony so he did it five times more until your ass was as red as he liked. “Fucking slut. Aren’t you better like this? Not talking, no CEO bullshit.” He stopped his thrusting and pulled your hair back once more to glare into your eyes. “I’m gonna have so much fun breaking you piece by piece until you’re nothing but a brainless fuck toy for me to use.”

He slammed your face back down to the mattress and resumed his violation on your body. He kept pounding until there was no more energy left in you to fight. He then threw your body around so you were lying on your back.

He inserted himself back into you and picked up his vigorous pace. Your breasts jiggled with every assault. “Missed those perky tits.” His hands shamelessly groped your breasts and held on to them like they were knobs.

His right hand went from your breast to your throat, encircling the fingers around the delicate flesh. Your breathing becomes difficult and you felt yourself seconds away from passing out but before it could happen, you felt the tightening coil in your lower belly that was familiar with Ransom. And the expanding bubble burst, making a soaked mess on the leather underneath you and all over Ransom’s cock.

“There you go, what a fucking mess.” He smirked. “Last time I fucked this cunt, I don’t remember you getting off this soon, baby.” His hands went back to your knees as he chased his own orgasm. And in a matter of seconds, he released his cum deep inside your womb, staying there until he had no more drop left to give.

He withdrew himself out and then he stepped out of the mattress. He put back his sweater and jeans and before he left. He sneered at your disarranged state, complacent with the mess he made you of. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Be good or there will be punishments worse than you just had, understood?” He didn’t wait for your answer before kissing your upper lip.

He disappeared behind the door, leaving you in the tenebrosity of the room as you languidly losing yourself into unconsciousness.

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btsqualityy · 4 years

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Heaven Sent; Part 5

Jin x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings: None to note.

Author’s Note: I know it’s been a while and I’m sorry! I’ve been busy with college work but here is an extra long chapter to make up for it! I hope you guys enjoy!!

Month five was normal. At least, as normal as you could get. Work was great, Aera was doing amazing, and you found yourself crying much less as time wore on. Yep, everything was good....until you hit month six.

Month six was October, which also meant that it was Aera’s birthday month. When you looked at the calendar one day and saw just how quickly October 7th was approaching, you found yourself almost dreading it because it would be Aera’s first birthday without her father. After realizing that though, you made up your mind right then and there to make sure she enjoyed her day to the fullest.

“Wait, she asked you for what?” Jin laughed loudly, and you reached out to smack his abdomen as the two of you made your way through the grocery store together.

“A unicorn,” you repeated, not being able to help yourself as a small giggle escaped you as well.

“I know you want her to have fun, especially this year, but don’t you think a unicorn would be hard to deliver?” Jin wondered.

“Nope. All we’d have to do is rent one of those mini ponies and put a horn on it’s head. A fake one, of course,” you added, and Jin nodded thoughtfully.

“Of course, because you’re nothing if not ethical,” he teased, making you gasp as you reached out and smacked him again. Over the past month, you and Jin had begun to spend more time together, even when he wasn’t babysitting Aera. You found that he was extremely funny, even though his dad jokes sucked, and it was refreshing to be around someone who didn’t pity you.

“You give in to Little Heart way too much, you know that?” Jin mentioned and you gasped dramatically.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” you laughed. “She’s not even 4 feet tall but all she has to do is look at you and you crumble.”

“Oh please, I’m no weakling like you,” Jin snickered.

“Oh yeah? Why are we here at the grocery store then?” You asked with a smirk.

“I have no idea,” Jin lied.

“Let me help jog your memory then,” you smiled. “Uncle Jinnie, can you please make japchae and samgyeopsal for my birthday food? Please?” You recited the words that Aera had said to Jin not even an hour before.

“It’s what she asked for from me for her birthday!” Jin shot back. “What was I supposed to do, say no?”

“All I’m saying is, don’t make it seem like I’m the only weak one here,” you pointed out.

“Honestly though, how can anyone not be weak for her?” Jin smiled, making you do the same thing. “She’s too precious.”

“Yeah, she is,” you nodded in agreement.

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Luckily, Aera’s actual birthday fell on a Saturday and the weather was pretty good for October so it was the beginning of a good day as you bustled around your house getting things ready for the party.

Per Aera’s request, she only wanted your parents, Hae-il’s parents, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jin, and Jin’s friends Namjoon, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok to be there so those were the people that you invited. Jin ended up showing up early in order to help you decorate and get the food ready.

“Do you think I have enough cups? And plates?” You wondered as you moved frantically between the kitchen and the dining room, setting the tableware down on the table.

‘Yes, you have enough for a small army in here!” Jin shouted back from his place in front of the stove in the kitchen. After making sure that there were enough plates and cups on the table for everyone that you expected to come, you walked back into the kitchen, having to stifle a laugh when you caught sight of Jin dancing in place to the music that was playing through the small speaker that he had brought with him.

“Having fun?” You asked and Jin glanced at you over his shoulder, smiling evilly.

“Yes I am, in fact,” he chuckled, setting down the spatula in his hand before turning around fully.

“Do you think that I have everything we’ll need?” You questioned and Jin nodded his head.

“You do, and you need to stop worrying so much,” he advised you, making you sigh heavily.

“I know, but I can’t help it,” you whined childishly.

“Dance with me,” Jin said suddenly, stepping over to you while you shook your head insistently.

“I can’t, I need to finish getting things ready!” You squealed loudly, gasping when Jin grabbed your hands in his and began to drag you around the kitchen in a backwards conga line.

“No, what you need to do is relax, so that’s what I’m helping you do,” he smiled, moving quickly and spinning you around before bringing you into his body.

“You make me fall, I’ll kill you,” you threatened him.

“You wouldn’t kill me on Little Heart’s birthday,” he called your bluff. “She’d never forgive you for offing her favorite person.”

“Taehyung’s her favorite person, so try again,” you replied, laughing afterwards at Jin’s wide eyes.

“Damn, you really know how to cut a man Y/N-ah,” Jin huffed, making you smile as the two of you continued to dance together. He used the hold that he had on your hands to guide you, leading you around in a small circle. A loud giggle escaped you when he almost tripped over his own feet and suddenly, you realized that you felt more carefree than you had in months; probably since Hae-il died, if you were being completely honest with yourself.

“You’re still thinking too hard,” Jin noted and you looked back up at him. “I swear, I’m gonna be forced to dip you the same way they do on the dancing shows.”

“Jin, you better not,-” you tried to threaten but you were cut off by Jin wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to his body and then leaning down in a bow. You squealed loudly, bringing your arms up and looping them around his neck tightly to make sure that he didn’t drop you; or that if he did, then he’d go down with you.

“Better?” He smirked and you just rolled your eyes as you shook your head.

“You’re very annoying, you know that?” You told him.

“I’ve been told,” he chuckled.

“Can you let me back up now?” You asked, your eyes narrowing at him when he shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know, you seem pretty comfortable down there,” he pointed out. “Less stressed.”

“I’m worrying about you potentially dropping me on my head,” you laughed. “I’m definitely still stressed.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he replied and you could hear the seriousness in his voice. “Trust me.” He then slowly straightened his body, lifting you back up gently to make sure that he wouldn’t drop you. Once your body was vertical again, you realized that the way you had looped your arms around his neck was now causing you to be pressed right against his chest.

“I should, uh, go finish getting things ready,” you muttered.

“And I should finish the food,” Jin nodded, reaching down and setting his index and middle fingers underneath your chin, lifting upwards so that you were looking up at him. The two of you stayed liked that for a few seconds, just looking at each other, and the rational part of your mind told you that you should do what you said and pull away but you also just didn’t want to.

Jin was extremely handsome, anyone with eyes could see that and it wasn’t lost on you. However, being up that close made you appreciate his looks even more.

“We shouldn’t,” you spoke up suddenly and to your surprise, Jin nodded his head.

“We shouldn’t,” he agreed easily. “But God, do I want to.” His confession made your breath hitch in your throat and you felt your cheeks warm up from embarrassment. You met his gaze, your eyebrows furrowing as you tried to read the expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, seemingly realizing the weight that his previous words held. Even more surprisingly, you found yourself lowering your head and shaking your head gently.

“It, it’s o-ok,” you stammered. You then looked back up at him, gasping when you saw that he was starting to leave forward. You panicked for about two seconds when you realized that he was going to kiss you. The grip that you had around his neck tightened even more, and you found yourself inching forward as well.

Just as you could feel the hint of his breath against your lips, Aera’s shrill voice rang throughout the house.

“Mommy!” She hollered, and the sheer loudness of her tiny voice made your arms fall from around Jin’s neck as you jumped about a foot in the air. You set one hand on your chest over your racing heart and the other hand on your cheek, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You then looked over at Jin, who was rubbing his hands over his face.

“I,-” he tried to say but he was cut off by another call of your name from Aera.

“Mommy! I need help getting dressed!” She called. Giving one last glance at Jin, you stepped around him to walk out of the kitchen.

“I’m coming Love,” you replied, using every ounce of restraint in your body to not glance over your shoulder at Jin.

........................................

“Grandma, grandpa!” Aera shouted after you had opened the door, revealing Hae-il’s parents, whose arms were loaded down with large gift bags for their granddaughter.

“I heard someone has a birthday today,” Jin-joo, Hae-il’s mother gasped playfully as she and Hae-il’s father Gun stepped into the house. You shut the door behind them and took the presents out of their hands, moving into the living room in order to step them down onto the table.

“It’s me! It’s my birthday!” You heard Aera exclaim happily and you couldn’t help but to smile to yourself at how excited she was. As you moved to walk back into the front hall, Jin appeared from the kitchen and you didn’t miss the way that Jin-joo’s eyes widened at seeing him.

“Seokjin?” She called out in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Aera requested my presence,” he told them with a smile.

“I asked Uncle Jin to make samgyeopsal and japchae for us,” Aera added happily. “He makes it the best!”

“Even better than me?” Jin-joo wondered with a smile and Aera nodded her head shyly.

“Well, it’s good to see you son,” Gun said as he walked over to him, setting his hand on Jin’s shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“You as well, Gun-ssi,” Jin nodded. Over the next 45 minutes, your parents, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Jin’s friends Jimin, Namjoon, Hoseok and Jungkook all showed up for the party and Aera was in absolute heaven.

“Kookie!” Aera squealed happily as Jungkook lifted her up into his arms and kissed her cheek multiple times.

“Hey, has my baby forgotten me?” Taehyung pouted and Aera quickly lifted her head, shaking it so hard that her ponytails hit her in the face.

“I love uncle Tae Tae,” she told him, smiling shyly afterwards. “But I love Kookie too.”

“Aww, I love you too cutie,” Jungkook smiled as he pressed another quick kiss to her cheek.

“Tae’s gonna be pouting for the next week,” Yoongi grumbled, making you laugh because you knew that it was true. Not too long after that, Jin walked out of the kitchen and announced that the food was ready and that everyone could come eat. Walking into the dining room, you were surprised at how good the food both looked and smelled.

“Dig in everyone,” Jin smiled and that’s exactly what everyone proceeded to do after they sat down.

“Here, have some meat Little Heart,” Jin said to Aera as he brought his chopsticks to her lips, and she opened wide to bite into it. “Is it good?”

“So good!” She nodded happily before turning to you. “Mommy, have some meat!”

“I have some baby,” you giggled as you gestured towards your own plate.

“No, you have to eat it from uncle Jin,” she insisted, making your eyes widen just a fraction. “It tastes better that way.” You then looked over Aera’s head at Jin, who was already looking at you.

“Y/N-ah?” He said and you knew that he was asking if it was alright. You just shrugged, watching as he picked up another piece of meat from his plate and brought the chopsticks to your lips. You accepted it easily, chewing on it thoroughly as both Aera and Jin watched you.

“Good?” Jin smiled and you nodded before swallowing.

“Really good,” you replied, and you swore that you could see his ears get red as he looked away from you. The rest of the dinner passed in relative ease, filled with good conversation and you didn’t miss how well Yoongi and Taehyung seemed to be getting along with Jin’s friends. You were grateful for it because you knew that Aera loved all of them and it would’ve killed her if they didn’t like each other. Your daughter was nothing short of dramatic, but she got it honest.

“Alright, I think it’s time to cut the birthday cake,” you announced once the dining table had been cleared and Aera’s eyes lit up. “Jin?”

“Happy birthday to you,” Jin began to sing as he carried the cake out of the kitchen and into the dining room, and everyone else joined in as well.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Aera, happy birthday to you,” everyone finished before clapping. You helped Aera stand up on her chair as Jin set the cake down on the table right in front of her.

“Make a wish Love,” you encouraged her and she nodded before shutting her eyes tightly. You all waited for a few seconds before she opened her eyes and then blew out her candles. Everyone in the room cheered loudly and you pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before moving forward to pull the candles out of the cake before any of the wax managed to drip down.

“What did you wish for Aera?” Hoseok asked.

“Yeah, anything cool?” Namjoon wondered.

“I can’t tell you uncle Hobi and uncle Joonie, it’s a secret!” She giggled.

“But we’re your uncles, you can tell us,” Jimin tried to convince her but she shook her head firmly.

“Uncle Jinnie said that I can’t tell people, or else it won’t come true. Right?” She checked as she looked up at Jin and he nodded his head with a small smile.

“That’s right Little Heart,” he assured her before looking over at his friends. “So stop pressuring my baby.”

“It was just a question,” Namjoon chuckled.

“Him and Y/N-ah sure know how to bite people’s heads off,” Yoongi grumbled and Jungkook snorted in agreement.

“Right?” He agreed.

“Our friends are dramatic as hell,” you muttered to Jin.

“Tell me about it,” he whispered back, making you smile. You and Jin then made quick work of cutting into the cake and handing it out to everyone. Once you were done, you took a second to look around the room and you smiled at the sight. Your parents, Hae-il’s parents, and Jimin were talking to each other as they ate their cake, Aera was perched in Jin’s lap as he fed her cake and carried on a conversation with Namjoon and Yoongi at the same time, and Taehyung and Jungkook were carrying on a heated discussion about what the best video game was that came out in recent years.

Admittedly, you never imagined your daughter’s sixth birthday to look like this but as you looked around at all of the people that had shown up for your baby, it was the first time that you began to feel like just maybe, everything would turn out ok.

........................................

“Did you have fun today Love?” You asked Aera as you pulled back the covers to her bed, watching as she climbed inside before pulling the covers over her little body. It was about an hour after everyone had left, and you had managed to calm Aera down enough to get her in the bath and then into bed.

“So much fun Mommy,” she exclaimed and you smiled.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you replied.

“Mommy?” Aera called, and you could tell from the sudden softness of her voice that something was worrying her.

“Yes?”

“Can I have a Daddy hug?” She asked and your heart dropped a little.

“Of course baby, come here,” you said as you opened your arms and it took less than a second for Aera to sit up and throw herself into your arms. It had been a while since she asked you to hug her the way that Hae-il used to, and you were kind of sad that she felt the need to ask again on her birthday.

“I missed Daddy today,” she whispered and you sighed as you squoze her body gently, the same way that Hae-il used to.

“I did too Love,” you admitted, pulling back and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Is he still sending us love, like you told me?” She questioned and you didn’t hesitate to nod your head.

“Of course. He always is,” you promised her.

“Ok,” she said and she seemed to feel a little better at your reassurance. You helped her lay back down, tucking her in before brushing her baby hairs back away from her eyes.

“I love you Aera,” you whispered.

“I love you too Mommy,” she replied, and you gave her one last kiss before standing up and walking out of the room, making sure to leave her bedroom door cracked open just a little bit.

When you walked down the hall and back into the kitchen, you saw that Jin was still there, washing all of the dishes from dinner and dessert.

“Need some help?” You asked and Jin glanced over his shoulder, smiling gently when he saw you.

“Sure,” he said and you walked over to him, pulling up the sleeves of your shirt as he moved over to give you enough room to stand in front of the sink as well. He continued washing the dishes, handing them off to you for you to rinse and dry them before setting them down onto the counter.

Now that you finally had the quiet time to think (and Jin’s proximity to you wasn’t helping either), you began to think about this morning and what had almost happened between you and Jin. On one hand, you liked Jin. He was funny, he loved Aera almost as much as you did, and he was always there without being too overbearing. On the other hand though, you weren’t sure if you actually liked him because you were attracted to him, or because it had been 6 months since you even showed interest in a man or had one show interest in you.

Also, and what was the most glaring, he was your husband’s closest friend. Not only did you feel like you were betraying Hae-il, you also felt like it was way too soon for you to be trying to move on and if you did, what would that say to how you felt about Hae-il?

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” you confessed gently and Jin looked over at you with a raised brow.

“About what?”

“This, us,” you said and he made a soft noise of acknowledgement.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t either,” he replied and you looked over at him. “I genuinely just wanted to help you and Aera but yet here I am, developing feelings for my dead best friend’s wife.”

“It’s terrifying,” you muttered.

“It is,” he agreed easily.

“I don’t want to use you Jin.”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know that,” you shot back.

“I know you’d never do that purposely, so I do know,” he replied. “I also know though, that you like me. You may not be sure why, but you do.”

“I do,” you admitted. Jin then pulled his hands out of the water, grabbing a dry towel and quickly drying his hands off before gently placing them on your face.

“I’m willing to help you find out, if you want,” he offered and your eyes widened.

“Jin, I don’t think I can,-”

“I’m not asking you to marry me,” he chuckled. “I’m asking you to explore this attraction that we have between us, together. If it turns out that one or the both us are just attracted to the other because of what’s happened, then whatever. We’ll chock it up to grief and leave it at that.”

“And if it’s not just because of what’s happened?” You asked as you turned your body so that you were fully facing him.

“Then we can be scared together and figure it out,” he smiled gently. You bit your lip as you thought about what he had said, and you realized that you did want to try and figure it out with him.

“We’ll go slow?” You questioned and Jin nodded instantly.

“As slow as you or I need to,” he promised.

“What about Aera?” You asked suddenly.

“We don’t have to tell her right now, especially since we don’t know what’s going to happen,” he told you and you relaxed at his words.

“Ok,” you finally relented.

“Ok?” He checked and you smiled lightly.

“Ok,” you repeated.

“Ok,” he chuckled happily.

“I have one request though,” you said and Jin shrugged.

“Anything.”

“Kiss me?” You asked shyly. “I know we just agreed to take things slow and everything but I’ve kind of been thinking about it since earlier and-”

“Hey,” he gently interrupted you. “You worry too much, you know that?”

“I can’t help -” you tried to excuse yourself but you were cut off by the feeling of Jin’s lips pressing against yours. You squeaked against his lips before relaxing against him and letting your eyes close, reaching out with your hands and gripping his shirt at the waist. After a few seconds, he pulled away and looked down at you, his eyes searching yours.

“Ok?” He checked in, and you slowly nodded your head as you opened your eyes to look at him.

“More than ok,” you smiled and when you thought about it, it really was ok.

190 notes · View notes

uhhhhyandere · 4 years

Note

my internet cut off when i was sending an ask so i don't know if it actually went through,, could you write something for reader and a possessive/protective mello? my birthday is coming up in 4 days - i don't have anyone to celebrate it with, and he happens to be my comfort character 😅 feel free to delete this if you don't want to that's totally ok!!

such lies, such lies!

you can celebrate your birthday with me and the rest of us in death note stan hell. i hope you can find some ways to celebrate getting through another year, and that this lil piece brings you the joy you deserve <3 ily

“Can we... uh... go out, then?” You scratched the back of your head. Mello’s eyes dragged across the room until they met yours. You twiddled your fingers together.

“Why?” He rested his chin between his digits. You glanced around, making sure to scan the calendar to double-check a clearly true fact.

“It’s my birthday, so I thought maybe we can do something.” Mello twisted in his seat and crossed his leg over the other. Elbow angles against the corner of the table, the hand of the same arm rested above his mouth. “Please? It can be something small. Dinner, or something.” He sighed.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Take your pick, then.” Your smile grew and he rolled his eyes at the joy sparking on your features. “Don’t get too excited. It’s not that big of a deal, but,” he stressed, “don’t get any funny ideas, got it?”

You were giddy while you finished fixing yourself up in the mirror. It’s been months since you’ve properly gone out anywhere, much less a date. The excitement of checking yourself out in the mirror (a few moments of self-deprecation, but compared to the last few months of work and stress, it was refreshing to look like a human again.) and the pile of failed outfits on top of your bed was so relieving.

“Are you done?”

“Are you done?” Mello always looked good, and there wasn’t any mystical reason as to why, so when he walked into the room in lieu of an invitation, you weren’t surprised to find him in all black, tight-fitting clothes. His eyes flickered from your face to your feet, then back to your head. “Looks like you are.”

“We’re going to be late if you spend two more seconds in front of that mirror. What do you think is going to change? Whatever detail you fix will inevitably fall back down before we get there.” You shot him a glare. “You’re the one that asked to go out, and now you’re lagging behind.”

“Sorry, I haven’t gone out in a while! I wanted to look nice. For...” you cleared your throat, “you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” You clicked your tongue.

“Get a better glove next time then.” You twisted towards him. “Okay, done!” Spreading your arms wide, you presented yourself. “How do I look?”

“Presentable. Let’s go, then. The sooner we leave, the sooner we get back. The sooner so many people’s eyes will be off you.” He scowled. “Anyone looks at you for more than five seconds, I’m going to eradicate them.” You hummed and slipped on your shoes, using Mello’s shoulder for balance. Before you can take it off, however, his hand clasped your wrist tightly. He brought it towards his mouth and, without breaking intense eye contact, slotted a kiss between your knuckles. “I hope the place you chose is adequate.”

Adequate. Well, that’s not the exact words you would use for your favorite local restaurant, but that’s the reason why you loved it. After stressful days, you used to always find yourself here. The bar, for some reason, no matter the day, would be stock full of patrons. Most were regulars or friends of the owner until you eventually became friends with the owner too.

“Y/N! Wow, we haven’t seen you in a while! Who’s this?” Mello scowled next to you. Most likely because of the weekend crowd and the heavy smoke permeating the air. This definitely was not the type of place he frequented.

“This is Mello. We’ve been together a few months now.” The regular smiled and regarded him. Mello’s grimace must have kept him from saying anything else since his focus quickly focused back on you.

“Ah, I see. Get a boyfriend and you abandon us!” You laughed politely and scanned the floor for an open booth. One nestled in the corner, though still dirty from the previous occupants, was open. You smiled and offered him a few more concise words before leading Mello to the corner.

“It’s disgusting in here.”

“Food is nice and greasy. You can just get dessert if you want, though. It doesn’t matter to me. What does though is,” you nodded over to the nearby crowd huddled around a single table, “is that. I haven’t gambled in so long. I wonder if I still got it in me.” You dug your hand into your jacket pocket and pulled out the wrinkled, thinning plastic bag full of poker chips. “Doubt it, though.”

“You play poker?” You set the bag on the table.

“Yeah. Got into it a few years ago. I’m terrible, though. Luckily, they don’t play for high stakes. Just shots or drinks or buying a round for the group.” He snatched the bag and rolled it around in his hands. “Not that many, I know, but I think I can maybe end the night even. Hopefully.”

After your old-time favorite comfort meal and Mello’s dessert, you rose from the table with Mello following like a shadow. A few of the spectators you recognized greeted you before growing silent after making eye contact with Mello. A few eyes trained on him. Naturally. You didn’t even need to look back to know he was glaring at them. You grinned while approaching the table. “Deal me in the next round?”

“Y/N,” oh my - How did you not notice him? A devilish smirk on his face, he waved. “I didn’t expect you to be here. You haven’t been here in a long while. I missed you, babe.” You glanced to Mello. His eyebrow shot up and he stared at him. “Still mediocre?”

“As if... yes...” You scratched the back of your head. “But it’s fun, so,” you shrugged.

“Of course. I’m sure our pal can deal you in real soon. Just wait your little butt there.” ...Little? Mello hummed next to you but said nothing to acknowledge the aggravation on his face. Once a seat opened up, you sat yourself down. Mello’s hand rested on the back of it. Occasionally, the movement of his fingers would graze across your shoulder. “No cheating from the goth behind you, got it?”

“As if.”

You tried to ignore the sultry gaze and sugary words from his mouth through the rounds. Not for your sake, but for the sake of the person lurking behind you. Mello didn’t deal with competition so well. You sighed. Maybe I shouldn’t have indulged too much.

Turns out you needed help from the goth behind you. They really managed to swingle you every time. By the number of chips remaining, you would only last two more rounds, and you didn’t want to go back empty-handed. “One more. Then I’m done. I can’t go home without anything. I’m nearly out of cash at this point. My pride would hurt too much.”

“Alright, alright,” your old acquaintance said. “We just won’t use money or rounds or anything. Winner gets,” he hummed, “your underwear.” Normally, you’d say yes. Who really gave a shit? But that normally was before you and Mello became a thing. You shook your head.

“Sure,” Mello answered. You paused, turning to him in bewilderment. His face was entirely serious. “One more round.” Did...did he know you’re probably going to fucking lose? Was he that pissed at you that he didn’t care? “It’s no problem, right?” He looked down at you. His eyes widened just a hair for just a second. What was he thinking?

As he flipped his hand at the very end, your stomach dropped. Mello’s face remained the same, however. Even as you stood to... follow through with the demands. Though, as soon as you stepped away from the chair, Mello slid into it, hands folded on the table.

“One more,” he said. "Stakes are they keep their things, and you don’t look at them ever again. Not even a glance.” He paused. “That goes for every fucker in this shithole,” Mello called. You didn’t get a word in before he urged them to deal.

He was... he was probably joking, right?

You replaced Mello’s standing space behind the chair. On it, he leaned back cooly, legs spread with one bend up on the chair’s cushion, the other spread outwards on the ground. The cards in his hand close to himself, you were not able to get a good look at them with the downwards angle.

“...Royal flush,” he said in the end, the cards sliding into a half circle into the table. Silence. “Did you all not remember the stakes here? Anyone even looks at them, I’ll carve your eyes from your head.” Mello rose, hand clasping yours, and dragged you out of the establishment. You were sure everyone would be glaring in your direction if they were able to look at you. You guessed it didn’t matter if you didn’t pay. It wasn’t like you were going back here ever again.

Once into the brisk air, you ripped your wrist from his hand.

“What the fuck was that?” You hissed.

“What the fuck was that? What about you bringing me here to watch all those greasy men leer at you like some piece of candy? What about you letting that fuck do and say anything he wanted? What the fuck was that?” His fingers gripped your chin. “Who do you belong to?”

“W-what?”

“Did I stutter?” At your lack of answer, he tightened his grip. “Who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“Yes, me.” Mello ripped his hand from your chin and dug it into his pocket. “I’ll make sure you know. I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine.” He pulled a switchblade from his pocket.

“Mello, no -,”

“Stay here.”

“Please,”

“No. We’ll finish... celebrating your birthday at home, alright?”

#mello x reader #yandere mello #yandere mello x reader #mello #yandere death note

135 notes · View notes

teamhappyme · 4 years

Text

a series of promising events (4/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 6.7k

a/n: happy new year!! we’ve made it to part 4! this part differs from the 3 previous ones, as it takes place all in one (and a half) days. But there are flashbacks, represented with italics. if anything is confusing with the timeline, or anything else is confusing you in general, please let me know! my brain is a weird place and does not connect the dots when i post for a public audience. i hope you guys enjoy this part, it was really fun for me to write!

get ready, let’s go friends!

here are the links to part 1, part 2, & part 3

****

October 2012

“Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.” - Winnie the Pooh

You’re known for your predictability. Yes, you’re overly kind, extremely perceptive, and a little bit of a literary genius. But those closest to you knew the predictability of your life.

You craved routine. You woke up at 5:30 every morning, had breakfast, watched the news, and caught up on some domestic things before heading into the office. You stopped at the same bagel cart every morning, an Asiago bagel with butter for you and a coffee for Spencer. Monday’s, you treated the whole team. You got to work at 7:12, second only to Hotch.

The team knew how you would react to every case. Missing or dead children would cause you to go silent, families being the target would choke you up, and anything including a scumbag with a signature kill made you nauseous.

So it was safe to say they were more than surprised to find out that you’d left for a month long european holiday, from an email, with Strauss cc'd on it. The team couldn’t remember the last time you went on vacation, because you hadn't gone further than two hours in one day.

In your travels through Europe, you stopped in countries that you’d only dreamt about visiting in your dreams. You saw Nyhavn, Denmark, the colorful canal right outside of Copenhagen. Hopped through Warsaw and Gdansk in Poland, before being silenced by your tour of Auschwitz. Next was France, the country you always said you would flee to once you aged out of the system. Besides hitting all the touristy attractions in Paris, you traveled through the alps, and made sure you stopped to see Giverny, the little village that inspired Claude Monet and his water lily paintings. The last true destination was Spain, jumping at the chance to flex your spanish minor muscles. You roamed Barcelona and Madrid, feeling a little like the Cheetah Girls as you stood in front of La Sagrada Familia.

The more you travelled, the more you’d thought about quitting. Thought about sending your resignation to Strauss through an email, leave your desk full of the mementos and picture frames, and continue falling in love with the continent you’d never been to before.

But then you made your final stop in London, to the sister who you missed immensely, and lost the nerve entirely.

“You’ll regret leaving them for the rest of your life,” Emily said to you, and you wondered for a second if she was projecting her decisions onto you.

“They don’t deserve me.” You’d mumbled out, just loud enough for her to hear. “I can’t continue on like this.”

You’d given the team everything you had for seven and a half years. The job demanded personal sacrifices you never thought you’d be capable of, until you met the people who signed on for this before you. The people who shared the same commitment to helping others, the responsibility to improve the world around them before the one that housed them. It was the first time you felt at home in your quarter century existence.

But the work never seized. The jet began to feel more like home than your apartment, hotel beds provided more comfort than your own pillow covered mattress. And no matter how many people you saved, no amount of gratification from loved ones could quell the loneliness building back inside you.

So you listened to Emily, and came back to the states on your original return flight, October 23, 2012. You returned to the real world in less than seventy-two hours and promised Garcia you would brush up on the next case before debriefing on Monday morning.

You were betting on the fact that the team wasn’t lingering around the office, considering it was seven thirty on a friday night as you headed up in the elevator, fresh off your flight from the UK. The last thing you wanted was someone to corner you, when all you wanted to do was sleep off the lingering memories of your last night here.

The glass doors leading into the BAU gave you a view of the bullpen; empty. Opening the door, you walked over to your desk, quickly glancing around the other spaces to see if anything had changed. It hadn’t.

Grabbing the files Garcia left on your desk and your car keys from the drawer, you tidied up the space the tiniest bit. You made sure everything was squared off to your monitor, updating the days passed on your desk calendar. You wrote a reminder on a yellow sticky to thank Reid for watering your small desk plant and stuck it to the screen for Monday. Everything looked like it was in its place, until you saw a blue stress ball sitting on your chair. Your head whipped up to the office at the top of the stairs, but the lights were off and the door shut. He wasn’t here.

But you could feel the stare of his eyes from four weeks ago on you just the same.

You guys were working a local case in the District.

The unsub had murdered three men, each with one shot to the head execution style. There were no signs of torture, and all three men were found with their eyes closed and arms crossed over their torsos; signs of remorse.

It took the team thirty hours to stick the profile and find the woman responsible. Her name was Kathryn Downey, a forty two year old mother of three, with a law degree that hadn’t been used in fifteen years. After digging into the victims personal lives and her own, the motive and stressor became clear to everyone; her husband had cheated on her.

You found Kathryn with a gun pointed to her husband’s head, his hands and feet duct taped, and a strip around his mouth keeping him silent.

Her hands were shaking, and you knew from the second you saw her that she didn’t want to kill him. She was angry, and full of rage, but she wouldn’t be able to follow through with this.

As long as you use the right language.

“Kathryn, put the gun down, we’re with the FBI.” Hotch started in a calm voice, but she shook her head, hands shaking faster.

“No. I have to do this. He,” She took a breath, pushing the hair out of her face with her free hand. “He has to pay.”

You glanced at Aaron before taking a step closer, slowly lowering your weapon. She needed to feel safe, and she needed to feel like an equal.

“Kathryn, my name is y/n l/n. I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit from the FBI. I really want to help you through this situation, so I’m going to put my gun down, alright?” You slowly lowered the gun to the ground, kicking it back gently to Hotch.

“Now Kathryn, I know your children are here. I don’t want anything to happen to them, and I know you don’t either, so could you tell me where they are so we can help them?”

“In the basement, I locked them in the basement. I didn’t want them to,” She let the thought end, not wanting to manifest it into the universe. She didn’t want them to see their mother kill their father.

Hotch spoke gently into the comms, getting Morgan and Rossi down to the kids.

“Kathryn, I want to know why we’re here in this situation. I’ve read the file, I profiled you and your family, but I want to know your side of the story. Why are you holding a gun to your husbands head?”

Her eyes widened in the slightest, and you were sure it was from the empathy in your voice. But this was your specialty, and you were determined to talk this woman down.

“He cheated on me,” She whispered, and for a split second, you thought this was going to be easy. But then she pressed the gun harder into his head, and let out a low laugh. “After everything I’ve done for this family, for him, he just takes his pants off for another woman?”

You heard the safety click off, and Hotch’s own in return. Please do not end in a shootout.

“Kathryn, don’t look at him. Don’t think about him kneeling in front of you. Just focus on me. Tell me how you got to this moment right now.”

“How did I get to this moment? I got here by following around this sad excuse for a man for the last twenty years. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t escape this life of mine.” Her eyes started to water, and you internally sighed. You were getting somewhere. “I have a law degree, you know. Fifth in my class at Columbia, and I only used it for a year. And it was in sleazy corporate law. Because I got married, and I got pregnant, and Sean wanted someone to stay home with the kids.

“I went from the intelligent corporate attorney with her eyes set on the attorney general’s office, to a cliche housewife who spends her days cleaning and dotting on her husband and kids. I never wanted to be this woman,” She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall down her face freely. She looked so young in this vulnerable state, too young to have three children. Yet she looked so tired, and so defeated. “I gave up everything for this family. I gave up my career, friends, bucket list dreams, and a life that was waiting to be lived, for this man. I cater to his every need, I listen to him drone on about work, assure him when he’s feeling anxious, and give in when he needs a release. I am my children’s rock; when they need a shoulder to cry on I’m there in a second. They need help with their math homework, I’m the number one girl. But when it’s my turn to fall apart, when it’s my turn to be lifted up and supported, nobody is there for me. And he should be able to be there for me.”

If you hadn’t undergone intense training at Quantico, you would’ve been in tears by now. You empathized with this woman more than you should, and you were trying so desperately to help her out of this situation. So you continued to dig your fingernails into your palms, and spoke again.

“I know what you’re feeling, Kathryn.”

“You don’t know what I’m feeling!” Wrong move. She ripped the gun away from her husband and fixed the trigger on you. Hotch moved so that he was only one step behind you, trying to get her to lower the gun. “You have no idea what this is like!”

“I do, Kathryn. I promise you I do. I may not be a wife, or a mother, but I know what it’s like to give yourself completely to a person. I know what it’s like to hold onto the stress and fears of the people you love. I understand, because I’m this person too.

“People like you and me, we feel the need to be the emotional support for everyone we love. We never want to see them struggle, and we never want to see them in pain. So, we listen. We overcompensate to make them feel better, and we check in regularly to make sure they’re okay. Our happiness, as strange and sad as it may be, is directly linked to theirs. We can’t be happy unless they’re happy. But once they come out of their depression, once they thank us for being the light in their lives, they walk away, and take the happy rainbow with them. And they don’t leave any for us.” Tears continued to fall down her face, but you needed to go further. She was going to break if you kept going. “Kathryn, I was in your position not long ago. I remember what it feels like when you realize that the love you have for someone won’t be reciprocated. That after everything you’ve done for them, all the small moments that you succeeded in taking their grief away and bringing happiness back into their life, they still don’t appreciate you. And it’s heartbreaking.

“But I’m standing across from you today, on the other side of that pain, trying to tell you that it gets better. It doesn’t go away, but it gets a hell of a lot better, Kathryn. So please, do not let this one moment that you couldn’t take the pain away ruin all the times you did.”

You expected the tears. You expected an emotional end to this situation. You didn’t expect Kathryn Downey to drop her gun in the middle of the room, and collapse onto you. But that’s exactly what she did. And instead of letting go to untie her husband, instead of joining Hotch in cuffing her, you held her for a minute. You held her breaking heart in your hands, and tried your hardest to take away all her fears and pain for once in her life.

After a minute, you pulled away and grabbed a hold of her upper arm. She gave you a slight nod, knowing this is what was always going to happen. You led her down the stairs and into the back of a squad car, as Aaron helped the husband to his children once outside of the house.

You were leaning against the suburban that you came in, watching as the team debriefed with the local pd before being dismissed. But amongst the chaos, Hotch found your eyes, and gave you a knowing look. One that meant you were going to talk through the very personal negotiation you gave.

The team arrived back at the office just shy of ten o’clock, Penelope waiting for Derek at the elevator. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as you led the gang into the bullpen, everyone dropping their go bags at their desks.

You lingered for a moment as Hotch made his way up to his office, knowing you’d be joining him in a few seconds. You grabbed your blue stress ball, complimentary from the C.A.L.M. department meeting, as through the curtains you could see him drop his bag before checking his phone for any messages from Jack.

“L/n,” Here it comes. “Can I talk to you in my office please?”

You and Spencer shared a look, and he gave you a comforting smile in return. You took the steps two at a time to his office, and shut the door behind you once you arrived. He was standing behind his desk, so you didn’t feel the need to sit yourself.

You waited for him to speak, since he was the one that called you in. It was a little childish, but you weren’t the one who wanted the discussion.

“I want to talk about the negotiation.”

“I thought it was pretty successful. I empathised, I got her to drop her weapon, and no one was injured in the process.”

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I meant.” He uncrossed his arms, letting out a sigh. The two of you were too exhausted to have this conversation, but that wasn’t going to stop Hotch from going on. “I told you that you could lean on me when it all became too much.”

“That was six years ago, Hotch.” Defensive, but not rude. A fine line. “And this wasn’t about work, this was personal. You’re not obligated to listen to our personal issues that take place outside the office.”

“And you are?” Stop spinning my words, Hotchner. “I know you, y/n. This isn’t just something that can be brushed back under the rug.” You scoffed. “You don’t know me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know me, Hotch. None of you do. You know my file. You know that I got a full ride to Bowdoin, that I was a social worker before transferring here, and that most of my life before eighteen was sealed away. I confided in you six years ago about my childhood and now you think you know me?”

“Why are you getting so defensive?”

“I’m not-” You paused, knowing that if you finished that statement it would, in fact, be defensive. “I’m just really tired and I don’t want to be having this conversation right now.”

“It’s not healthy for you to keep everything in while people spill their lives to you. And you know that.”

“Hotch,” You warned, your exhaustion quickly turning into rage.

“What, you really think I’m just going to drop this after hearing you confess to a serial killer that you have no joy in your life? And now you’re going to try and convince me that I don’t know anything about you? Bullshit, y/n. I know that you talk to your foster siblings every sunday to check in and make sure they’re all doing okay. I know that you volunteer with Garcia to help the families of victims cope with their loss. I know that you cling to Spencer like gum wherever you go to make him feel less insecure in a bar.”

“Stop it,”

“I know that your favorite color is purple, that you still write articles for CNN and The Times under a pseudonym. And I know, more than anything in the world, you want to be the mother that you never got to have.”

“Stop it!” You threw the blue ball into his builtins, hitting one of his stupid administrative awards in the process. He didn’t even flinch. “You don’t get to know me like that.”

“Why not?” You let out a low laugh as tears started to fill in your eyes. He was oblivious, and that's what made it hurt even more. You cracked your knuckles for a few seconds, waiting for him to connect the words you spoke at the Downey house and your frustration with him in this moment.

But his face softened, the wrinkles disappeared from his forehead, and you knew he figured it out. He didn’t need to say the words for you to know exactly what was going through his head. But he was with Beth, and you were not going to interfere. This wouldn’t change anything.

“It’s late, I should head home. I’ll get you my report before monday.”

You left his office without saying goodnight, and you tried to ignore the rest of your team huddled around Morgan’s desk, pretending not to be eavesdropping. But they totally were.

Instead you grabbed your bags, giving Spencer a reassuring smile as his gaze lingered on you for a second longer. You had no intentions of turning around to see Hotch’s face. But if you had, you would’ve seen the same heartbroken expression across his face, realizing he let you walk away.

You tore your eyes away from the office, not wanting to relive the memory any longer. You stashed the stress ball under your monitor before turning out the light, and making your way back to the elevator.

Once you were settled back in your apartment, you sent a text to Reid and JJ, letting them know you got in okay and that you’d see them at the office on Monday. After getting a thumbs up and a ‘glad you’re home’ in response, you turned in for the night, trying to dream of nights in Paris and Barcelona instead of at the BAU.

---

It was hard for you to get back in the routine of consulting and profiling. Garcia had left you copies of three cases the team was going to be working on when you returned, and you’d barely worked through the first one in two hours.

Three teenagers went missing from their small town in Idaho, and all were found in Seattle in the same week. Of course, your first case back included kids.

You resorted to calling Spencer when you really had no idea where to begin. You felt like a rookie all over again, asking for help when creating a geographical profile or running new negotiation tactics. But your best friend was quick to help, assuring you that once you got back to the office, you’d fall back into the routine.

“Did you have a good time?” He finally asked, albeit apprehensively. You didn’t leave on the best terms with anyone, and they all seemed to know what pushed you over the edge.

“I did. It’s amazing to know that there is a whole other world out there that we don’t even know about. It’s so different over there, Spence. It’s peaceful, and beautiful, and everything the place you call home should be.”

You could hear the intake of breath over the line. “Does that mean you’re moving to Spain?” A smile crossed your lips just thinking about Barcelona. But, it wasn’t home.

“This is my home, Spencer. I’m not leaving anytime soon.” You left out the part about contemplating a new life for the better part of three weeks, knowing it would only cause him more paranoia. You were staying in Quantico, continuing what you were born to do.

After drafting a rough profile and reviewing family statements, you took a break from the paperwork staring back at you all morning.

You made your way into the kitchen to find something for lunch, the afternoon approaching quick. All you really wanted to do was crash on the couch and watch old movies for hours, until monday morning inevitably rolled around. Selfishly you wanted your vacation to last forever. But your mind, and your bank account, thought differently.

After consuming a sandwich and some chips, you brought back the fresh mug of hot chocolate to the kitchen table, ready to take on the second file. Two women raped, tortured, and murdered outside of Miami. Why the fuck did it always have to be Florida.

Halfway through the family statements, there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun from the side table, just in case. Only three people had a key to your apartment. One of them was in England, one you just got off the phone with, and one… you didn’t exactly know where you stood with him.

After checking the peephole and seeing Hotch on the other side, you let out a sigh of relief. No one is coming to muder you. But it was quickly replaced with the memories of your last encounter, and the unspoken realization of feelings unrequited.

You placed your gun back on the table, and unlocked the door for him. He was wearing a navy blue quarter zip, jeans, and sneakers, the ultimate Aaron Hotchner not on duty look. It made your heart beat just a little faster noticing his hair was free of any gel, flopping naturally as he walked.

“Hi,” You greeted him, half of you hidden behind your front door.

A shadow of a smile crossed his lips, and he placed his hands in his pockets. “Hi. I’m sorry for stopping by unannounced. I know you must be tired and getting ready for Monday.”

“No, it’s okay. Did you want to come in?” You opened the door a little more, stepping out to show your sweatpants and sweatshirt look from behind the door.

“Thank you.” He murmured as he walked through the entrance, moving to take off his shoes. You told him a million times that you didn’t follow that rule, and that you hated it when people made their guests remove their shoes. But he told you once that it was a sign of comfort, that he felt at ease in someone else's home.

“Can I get you something to drink? I have some tea bags left over I think, or I can make you a cup of coffee.”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? It’ll only take a second. Oh, are you hungry? I still have some sealed crackers from before I left, might have something in the freezer if-”

“Y/n,” He interrupted you and you stopped in the middle of your path to the kitchen. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” You nodded, making your way back to the living room. “Oh, I um, got something for Jack while I was in England with Emily. I know it’ll probably keep him holed up in his room for a week, but I couldn’t resist.”

You pulled out the bag of souvenirs you got for the team, grabbing the London attractions lego set you bought for the young boy. Aaron smiled when you handed it to him, knowing the two of them would no doubt be starting this when he got home.

“You didn’t have to get this for him. But he’s gonna love it.”

“I know.” You reached in the bag once more, pulling out the gift you got for Aaron. “And I know you’ll probably never wear this, but I had to get it for you.”

He opened the box, a british flag tie on the inside. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips, the tacky gift really meaning a lot to him. “Thank you. I can honestly say this is the most unique gift I’ve ever received.”

“Glad to hear it.” You tucked your foot underneath you as you settled onto the couch, letting Aaron set the gifts aside. You knew what conversation was coming next, but you didn’t have the courage to start it. Especially since he was the one to come to you.

He settled in on the couch, a cushion between the two of you, a clear boundary that he’d set.

“Did you enjoy your time over there?”

“I had a really great time. I can’t believe I’d gone thirty two years without leaving the country. You don’t realize how much of the world there is to see until you go and uncover a small fraction of it.”

He smiled while beginning to pick at his fingernails. This was a new tell of his, he was usually extremely reserved with his anxiety. “You sound like Emily.”

“I’m going to take that as a complement.” You said with a small laugh, adoring the woman across the ocean.

“It is. She called me a few days ago, told me you guys had a nice visit.”

“We did. Prentiss knows how to have a good time no matter the city. It was a little too much for me, though.”

“Nobody can quite keep up with Emily.” He added before letting out a breath.

“She also told me that you were contemplating leaving the BAU.” There goes the first shoe, dropping from the ceiling. “Are you still thinking of quitting?”

“No.” It was the truth. Em had spoken some sense into you, and you knew deep down, like you told Spencer, this was your home. “I just needed a break from everything. And Europe was an amazing distraction. But I’m back, and ready to get back into the swing of things.”

He nodded, some tension slowly released from his shoulders. He couldn’t lose another member. It was too soon.

“Was it because of me?”

“What?” Even though you were expecting this conversation, it still caught you off guard.

“I’m not conceited enough to think you fled to another continent because of a fight, but is that what pushed you over the edge? What led you to want to quit the BAU?”

In a word, yes. The argument was the last straw on the camel's back. You’d spent years with this unit, fulfilling a destiny that you made up for yourself so that you wouldn’t feel guilty for not having a family or friends to confide in. You spent the better part of the last three years pining for a man you couldn’t have, trying to fill the holes in your life by playing pretend. So yes, it was Hotch that pushed you over the edge. But you learned a hell of a lot about yourself in those four weeks.

“Hotch, did you know that this was the first time I went on an airplane for my own enjoyment? This was the first vacation I’ve been on in my life. I booked a flight on a Thursday night that left at six a.m. the next morning. I was spontaneous, and in control of all the moves I would make for the next thirty days. I’ve never felt more liberated in my life.

“But then I landed in Copenhagen, and had an anxiety attack. I can’t speak Danish, I have no idea how to get around a new country, and I only had thirty dollars in cash to my name. And the only thing I could think of to help me get through it, was calling you. I had your contact pulled up, ready to call you and tell you what a stupid fucking mistake I made. But then I could hear your voice in my head, saying ‘I know you’, and I’d never turned my phone off faster.”

“Y/n,” He sounded exhausted himself, but you weren’t going to give in to the apologies. Not yet.

“I had the time of my life there. I went to places that I never thought I’d get to see in my life. Places that my foster parents told me I’d never be important enough to go to. But I made it. I made it to Giverny, and I saw what inspired Claude Monet to paint the Water Lilies series with my own eyes. I went inside La Sagrada Familia and walked on the steps that Gaudi dreamt of. I saw everything I wanted to, and I wept every place I went to. Because I got myself there. I persevered and worked my ass off my whole life, to get there. I didn’t have any parents, I didn't have any siblings, a spouse, or children. I did it all by myself, and it felt pretty amazing to accomplish that.

“No one knows me like I do.” You finished. Your walls were back up starting to feel secure in your own skin again.

He stayed silent for a few minutes, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. He was calculating his response, trying to formulate the perfect response to get the two of you back on track. It was exhausting watching his brain work, and you wondered how tired he must always be.

After another minute, he sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. “Beth and I broke up two weeks before you left.” The other shoe had dropped.

“What?” For the second time tonight, you were rendered speechless by Aaron Hotchner. This was not the response you were expecting, and not the news you expected to hear anytime soon. The two of them were obsessed with one another, how could they just end it?

“We ended it two weeks before your trip. She accepted a job in Kyoto, and didn’t want to string me along with long distance. But she also said she knew my heart wasn’t in it anymore.”

You stood up from the couch, not being able to sit still with this new information. Hotch and Beth were no longer together, he said all those things to you as a single man, understood what you felt for him, and still let you walk out of his office. For four weeks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was his turn to stand, still leaving enough distance between the two of you to continue your pacing.

“Don’t deflect to another conversation.”

“You’re the one that brought it up!”

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly shaggy hair. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you again. So please, get it through your thick skull when I tell you that I know you. And I don’t mean that on a bureaucratic superior level. I know you, y/n. And just because you’ve been alone your whole life, doesn’t mean you deserve to be alone for the rest of it.”

Your eyes started to water, so you looked away, gluing your line of sight to the wall next to you.

“You give us all one hundred and ten percent of your attention when we need you. And when I say all of us, that includes Jack and Henry. I’ve never met someone so intune to another person's feelings, who exudes so much empathy with one look and a smile. And we’ve taken you for granted for seven and a half years. Me the most.” Your eyes found his brown ones, begging you to continue looking at him. “I couldn’t have gotten through Haley’s death without you. And that is the biggest understatement of the decade. I am eternally grateful for all that you’ve done for me and Jack. But at the same time, I’m so sorry that it pushed me further and further away from you.”

His own eyes started to water, and he choked out a laugh. “What you said to Kathryn Downey, about giving yourself completely to a person and not getting the love reciprocated. I felt like an absolute idiot for not realizing that you felt the same way I did.” You closed your eyes with his confession, letting the tears roll down your cheeks.

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you. But then Haley took Jack, and Foyet came, and the world got away from me. And I’m so sorry that you’ve felt the need to carry all our problems on your own.”

“Hotch, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Please, don’t call me Hotch right now.” He took a step toward you. “It’s Aaron, when I’m standing in front of you, begging you to just let me in.”

“I don’t,” Your voice cracked, and you rubbed your hands over your face in frustration. “I don’t know how to let someone love me.”

“I know,” He took another step closer. “You’re just going to have to trust me when I tell you I’ve been in love with you for years.”

He didn’t see the rest of your tears fall, because you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. His arms found their place around your waist, pulling you two impossibly close.

“I love you, Aaron.” You could feel him laughing with his chest pressed against your own, and he moved to kiss the side of your head.

“I love you.” He whispered back, causing the last of your tears to fall onto his sweatshirt.

He started to pull away, just enough to get a look at your face. His eyes were no longer filled with tears, but his cheeks still glistened when the light illuminated the damp spots on his face. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his knuckles gently graze your temple. You caught his hand in the middle of his movement, lacing your fingers with his own. You’d been dying to know what it felt like to hold his hand like this for years, when you found yourself comforting him in his office one night, lightly holding his hand in yours. But this was so much better.

“You good?” He asked, and the corners of your mouth turned up the slightest.

“I’m good.” He traced the lightest check mark on your laced hands, causing a true smile to grace your face.

“You have a tally to see who can make me smile the most?”

“It’s just mine. Been keeping it for years. But I’m always in the lead.”

You laughed while letting go of his hand, wrapping your arms back around his neck. His eyes flickered to your lips for a second before looking back at you. You gave him a small nod, knowing he was asking for your permission.

When his lips met yours, you knew this was the feeling that all the fairytales sang about. He was gentle at first, slotting your upper lip between his own. It was slow, and full of love from the years of knowing one another inside and out. He bit your lower lip softly, barely there, and you slowly parted your lips, letting him trace your tongue with his own.

All you could think about was how warm he was, how his breath was actively leaving his lungs and entering your own as if you were one person. It was all consuming, and you were grateful that he took the lead, because you couldn’t focus on anything but him.

His hands slipped under your sweatshirt, resting on the skin just above your hips. You let out a small gasp as his cold fingers made contact with the sensitive skin, but it only made him laugh into the kiss.

After a few more moments of getting lost in the feel of one another, you reluctantly pulled away, needing air to fill up your lungs. But Aaron didn’t go far, gently resting his forehead against your own.

“I love you. And I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to stop telling you.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head up, slowly kissing him again.

“I’ll never get sick of hearing it.” You mumbled, your lips still grazing his own. He smiled into the kiss, which only made your heart glow brighter and brighter the more he showed you how he felt.

You pulled away first, tracing the outline of his jaw with your thumbs. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He tilted his head to the side, just enough to press a kiss to the palm of your hand.

The tenderness this man exudes is beyond belief. “I really love you, Aaron.”

He laughed while pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad to hear that.”

You let him hold you for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a few minutes. “I promised Jack I would take him out for ice cream to make up for missing his soccer game last night.”

“Okay,” You said and started to pull away, but his grip on your waist only tightened.

“Really? You’re just gonna let go without a goodbye?” You laughed at his fake hurt expression, so incredibly happy that you get to see Aaron in this light, enjoying his son, his life, and you.

“I’m not about to stand in the way of Jack Hotchner and a sugar rush. That guy loves his sugar.”

He let go of your waist, but not without a light squeeze to your sides. “I know we literally just started this, but I really would like to tell him. I don’t want to keep any more secrets from him than I have to.”

You smiled at the thought of Aaron telling Jack how in love the two of you were. It made you feel complete, in a way you never thought you’d get to experience in your life.

“Tell him. As long as he doesn’t blab about it to anyone on the team just yet.”

“You sure?” You nodded while passing him the souvenirs as he slipped his sneakers back on.

“Aaron, he’s your son. I’ve loved him as long as I’ve loved you, maybe even longer.”

He stood up once again, that stupid smile not willing to leave his face any time soon.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Must’ve been something pretty good.” You said with a laugh, which he silenced by placing his lips on yours. You hoped the butterflies you felt now would be there every time he kissed you, no matter how many years have passed.

“Like that.” You said once he pulled away. His dimples were showing now, and you wished that you could take a picture of him in this happy moment and remember it for the rest of your lives.

“I’ll call you tonight.” He said and opened the front door.

“Okay. Have fun, tell Jack I said hi.”

“I will.” He kissed your cheek before starting the walk back down the hallway. He didn’t even make it halfway before turning around, and giving you one final kiss in the doorway.

“Love you,” He said and gave you one more peck, before you shoved his shoulder. “I love you too. Now get outta here, Hotchner.”

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites @averyhotchner @dreamy-moments @softhxtch @crazymar15 @theinsanespaceship15 @wecouldbreakthedistance @jeor @funnycuteandannoying @andherestograce @thisisntjuliana @captwilson @kennedyblair @lovelysunflowerxoxo @rcompton @iifaequeenii @iwaizumiee @mrsaaronh0tchner @abbeyannsmith-blog @becausehello @rinacriedpower @ssa-raye @ephemeral-barnes @slxtherinchxser @baueoud @lieswithoutfairytales @hug-a-bug-boo @blogmythoughts @freebanditghostcalzone @sugarbutterbailey

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #jules writes shit ??

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

mixtape | track seven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

*contains smut*

When Nicole died, Indiana convinced herself that someone was holding down a fast forward button on her life. Some greater power with a universal remote, carelessly keeping a finger shoved down on the little button with the double arrows, with no regard to the fleeting few days she had left with her most important person.

History seemed to be repeating itself, with the best physical representation being the very quickly evolving tiny homes.

The first thing on Grayson’s agenda when they’d made it back to NYC was to decorate the property for Halloween. It hadn’t seemed like the most sound plan to Indy, considering last time they were out in the field it was just raw building materials, a platform and lots of grass. But when she climbed off the back of the quad, away from Grayson’s warmth and into the chilly air, she was standing in front of a house, or at least the bones of one, with the beginnings of the loft and stairs formed inside. It wasn’t polished yet - in fact, there wasn’t even a front door to hang the spider wreath that he had bought at Home Depot. But there was a house, and it stood as a reminder that time was passing quickly.

Despite how over the top the Dolan’s were about it, Halloween was a blink. Ethan was still in California, spending a few more days with Eden, but they facetimed in their costumes anyways - Indy had been convinced into dressing up at the last minute, which resulted in a witch costume that consisted of black leggings and a black bodysuit, which got covered up by a spare hoodie of Grayson’s early in the evening, brought on by the ever-dropping Jersey temperatures. But they celebrated with Lisa, and with E squared across the miles with a bonfire and too many pieces of candy, and Indy realized at the end of the night that it was the first holiday she’d had with family in years. It filled a vacant room in a back hallway of her heart that she didn’t realize had been abandoned, and as soon as the calendar turned to November, she was determined.

“Thanksgiving. Me, you, Lisa, Ethan, Eden, Cam, Charlie and Devin. Thoughts, opinions?”

Grayson quirked an eyebrow from the other side of the couch, face lit by his laptop screen.

“Vegan thanksgiving?”

She nudged him in the side with her foot, getting the perfect angle from where she was laying to tickle him. “Nah, we’re gonna cook a whole meal that 25% of the participants can’t eat. Sounds like the holiday of dreams.”

He poked her with a toe. “Yeah, that sounds good to me. Might have to find an extra table at Ma’s though.”

“I can plan out a menu, make sure everyone brings something. Charlie can bring plates, for all our sakes.”

“Then Ethan can bring cups, cause god knows he doesn’t know what the fuck to do in a kitchen. And I can do the menu, you’ve got enough on your plate.”

“It’s not that bad this week,” she countered, but before she could say anything else he’d picked up her planner, looking at all the little color coordinated blocks that she’d drawn out. Grayson had never had a planner before, much less an hourly one, and it stressed him out a bit just to see how little time she didn’t have allotted to something. His finger moved over a little block in dark blue, a tiny scribble inside it - time with g :).

“You block out time for us to hang out?”

“I block out time to do just about everything but pee,” she laughed, keeping her eyes on her textbook as he continued to look through her pages.

“You haven’t peed in like… 3 hours. Drink your water.”

She stuck her tongue out but did as he asked, watching the way he found something on the page and frowned, eyebrows creasing across his forehead.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He answered it too quickly, and it was her turn to frown.

“Babe. What is it?”

“It just says, uh, ‘deposit from Kenneth’. Who’s Kenneth?”

Her breathing stopped for a moment. She hadn’t heard that name said aloud in years.

“Oh um. That’s my dad. Kenneth Cross.”

He switched from realization to guilt in an instant, flipping the planner shut. Grayson wasn’t privy to much information about Indiana’s father, but he didn’t need much to know that the relationship wasn’t great.

“Shit, Dee, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

She closed her textbook, sitting it aside with a sigh. Sitting up, she crossed her legs on the couch, a bid to get a little closer to him.

“No, it’s okay. We probably should have talked about it by now anyways. What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.” He offered her his hand, knowing she liked to toy with her fingers when she talked, hoping it would help.

“Well. He wasn’t always a shit head. Actually, he used to be a pretty good dad. When Charlie and I were growing up, he was always there. He coached Charlie’s basketball team, then mine. He helped mom with dinner, we all went on vacation together. I mean, I had a good childhood, I really did. But things changed when mom got sick.”

“How long was she sick?”

“Six months. It took her fast, much faster than usual with her stage and her type. I thought my dad would step up, but he didn’t. He shut down. And I get that, it was hard, but we needed him and he just… wasn’t there. Charlie had to take her to appointments because I couldn’t drive yet. He stayed at home and worked, and drank, and then drank some more and called it work. He never talked about mom, never even admitted to himself she was sick I don’t think. So Charlie and I did our best, and we stayed with her as much as we could, especially towards the end. I’d ride the subway out of the city to get to school cause I slept at the hospital most nights. And I guess Charlie and I didn’t realize, but he was working on selling the house while we were doing all that, before she was even fucking gone. So, when she did go, all of a sudden she was gone, and my house was gone, and Charlie was going to school, so it was just me and him.

“We moved into a smaller house. He didn’t talk to me. He was a shell without my mom. And I thought it would get better but it didn’t. So, I taught myself how to be okay without him, and without my mom… without anyone. I think he realized it too, and some part of him felt bad. But he knew he couldn’t fix it. So, the summer before college, he said he’d pay for wherever I wanted to live for school. I couldn’t swing rent on a Jet’s salary, and I wanted to get out of his house, so I agreed. I moved in here freshman year, and we haven’t seen each other since. Haven’t even talked on the phone really. He deposits rent in my account each month, and as soon as I can get enough money to not have him do that, I’m going to tell him to stop. I don’t want him to think I need him, for anything.”

Indy looked up for the first time since her story started, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of Grayson’s watery eyes. He blinked it away and cleared his throat, but the way he opened his arms up told a different story.

“I don’t like hating him. But I don’t know how to forgive him either.”

“C’mere,” he mumbled, waiting for her to readjust and climb on top of him. His arms wrapped around her tightly, like he wanted to press her into him and make her a part of him.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that with your mom like that, I can’t imagine.”

Indy lifted her head and looked at him with sad eyes.

“Yes you can.”

The knot in his throat grew, and he kissed her head when she relaxed against him again. He let the silence settle for a few minutes, tracing a heart against her back and pressing his lips into her hair over and over.

“I had my mom though. She helped us through the entire thing. And I had Ethan, and Cam. And I know you had Charlie, but thinking about you having to do that without a parent.” He shook his head. “I hate it. Not to mention the rest of the bullshit he’s probably put you through that you’re too nice to tell me about.”

It was her turn to get teary.

“Well, I’m okay now. I made it, and so did you.”

He ran a thumb over her cheek with a soft smile.

“Wish you didn’t have to make it through it at all.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Grayson shifted then, rolled them over to the side so Indy was between him and the back of the couch, coiling his arms around her tightly, shifting her up enough for him to kiss her. He let his hand roam down her back, over her ass, grabbing and moving until her leg slotted above his.

“I love you,” he said, hoping she knew just how much. She moved her hand from his cheek, let her arm wrap around him, trapping him closer to her.

“Love you more.”

He shook his head at her, making her laugh against his skin.

“You don’t have a nap written in your schedule, am I gonna screw it all up?”

“I can shift things. I’m flexible.”

He laughed again, a beautiful sound that bounced off the walls of the apartment and filled the space. Indy kept her leg wrapped around him, holding him close and finding his lips with hers again, breathing him in - her favorite distraction.

“Flexible hm? How flexible?” His voice had dropped slightly, throat gruff.

She knew they weren’t going to sleep, so she gave in, dipping down to kiss along his neck, taking charge a bit more than usual.

“You know, I think we might be the only couple who can switch from parental trauma to horny within 60 seconds,” she mused, smiling at the rumbling laugh it got out of him.

“Maybe we’re just built different.”

“Hate that,” Indy mumbled, moving back up to kiss him again. He wasted no time in coaxing her shirt off, sitting them up with her in his lap so he could do the same to his own, getting her bra off quickly after his own sweatshirt was gone. There was no better feeling than her skin against his, he was sure. Her hand landed on the middle of his chest and she hummed, smiling.

“You didn’t shave your chest hair.”

He pulled back a bit with an incredulous look. He hadn't even thought about it, but she was right. “You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you. You’re my favorite thing to study,” she smiled, and his heart melted in his chest. The only way he knew to respond was to pull her back to him. In a bed, he would have rolled them over, climbed above her, but the couch limited him and he was at her mercy for the time being.

She didn’t seem to be in much of a rush, and between the slow roll of her hips and the kisses she pressed along a path from his jaw to his collarbone, he was very much wishing she would pick up the pace. His hands slid down to her hips, pressing her down against him in a bid for friction.

“Easy,” Indy laughed his favorite laugh, the breathy one that seemed like an afterthought. “If I’m gonna rearrange my schedule, I get to set the pace.”

“Well then, take it away,” he chuckled, but it faded into more of a groan when she nipped at his shoulder, letting her hands run down his sides. She left goosebumps in the wake of her nails, and he couldn’t help but shudder as she toyed with the waistband of his sweats for a moment, like she was playing a game. Grayson Dolan wasn’t used to being at the whim of anyone, and it was liberating in a way that had his nerves buzzing.

Indiana was perhaps enjoying herself a bit too much. Usually, she was so overwhelmed by him that she didn’t have time to really take him in. So, she soaked up the opportunity of having him displayed out for her, tracing her fingers over every plane of him - the v of his hips, the muscles over his ribs. Down his arms, back up to his shoulders, running her thumbs over his scruff as she cupped his face. When she made it back down to his abs she felt them flex under her hands, his hips bucking up just barely against hers.

“Baby.” His tone was stern, and she played into a bit, looking at him as innocently as she could.

“Hmmm?”

“You’re teasing.”

“I’m admiring.”

“Okay, then you’re cheesy and you’re teasing.”

“Guilty as charged,” she murmured, shrugging a bit.

Bad move.

His arms wrapped around her tightly, ensuring he didn’t lose his grip as he planted a foot on the floor and rose up just enough to roll them, getting her underneath him on the couch. It happened so fast that all she could do was gasp, eyes wide as she stared up at him, the blues bright with shock.

“Now, where were we.”

His cockiness was back in full swing, but he paused at the pout that came over Indy’s face.

“What?”

“I kinda liked being up there,” she said, running her hands along his arms as he held himself up above her.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna switch again?”

“Kinda.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. Pants off, then we switch.”

“Deal.”

He stood up first, taking her hand and pulling her up to her feet. They shimmied out of the pants and underwear quickly, leaving them in a pile on the rug in a rush to get back to each other. The mood shifted yet again when he guided her onto his lap as he sat down, lighthearted and fun as she got herself settled. Grayson had never had lighthearted sex before he met Indiana Cross. It was always scratching an itch, even when it was with people he was in a relationship with. She seemed to unlock another side of him, one that made it so much more fun to have her above him, struggling to keep her hair out of her face and get close enough to him at the same time. He wasn’t sure how she managed to be adorable and sexy at the same time, but when she finally got herself lined up and began to sink down onto him, he didn’t have the brain power left to care.

“Shit Dee,” he groaned, using every bit of self control he had to keep his hips still, letting her set her agonizingly slow pace.

She whimpered with every inch that she moved down, finally taking all of him somehow, arching her back for a moment before she caved, leaning forward onto his chest, burying her face in his neck.

He started as slow as his body would let him, groaning as she started to grind her hips, searching out an angle that kept the pressure building. It took a moment, like it always did when they tried a new position, but when she found it Grayson knew by the way her nails dug into his shoulders. He grabbed her hips to hold her there, memorizing the way their bodies fit together so he could get right back to that same spot over and over again.

“Gray,” she whimpered into his ear, bracing her forearms on his shoulders as he chased her high for her, determined to have her shaking. All she could do was moan and hold on as he thrusted into her faster with a renewed purpose, only stopping when she clenched so hard that he could barely move.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Indy whined, every muscle in her body tightening down in defense of how overwhelmed she suddenly felt, breath catching in her throat as her orgasm ripped through her. His arms coiled around her back as if he was trying to hold her together as she shook, and he chased the last of his high, lifting her off of him at the last possible second before he came, white streaks landing on his torso. He knew it would be a mess and he didn’t care - he pressed her back to him, wrapping her up for a moment in his arms and letting the two of them come down.

“Woah. Good woah,” Indy mumbled, pressing kisses to his neck where she could reach.

“I second your good woah.”

“Good.”

“Do you have time in your flexible schedule for a shower? I got you all sticky.”

She sat up and pretended to ponder it for a moment, making a show of quirking her eyebrow just to make him laugh. “I suppose I could pencil it in. C’mon.”

She climbed off him and took his hand, leading him to her bathroom with a smile. They paused in front of the mirror for a moment, and it was the first time in a long time that Indy felt happy to be looking in one. But still, she turned around and looked up at her boyfriend - he looked better in real life than in his reflection anyways.

“You know, if you play your cards right, you might just win yourself a round two.”

That was all it took for him to pick her up so fast she squealed, carrying her behind the privacy of the shower curtain for a second taste.

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

Bekah’s hands were always cold, but they felt like ice cubes in Indy’s hands. She rubbed along her skin in a bid to warm her up, eyes wandering over to Grayson.

“She’s pale,” he murmured, keeping his distance as he stood at the end of the bed. The sight of her so still in her hospital bed was unsettling. He had expected their first visit back to be filled with smiles, and ‘I miss you’s’, stories of California and her recovery.

Instead, they’d walked into Bekah’s room to find her fast asleep underneath her Halloween blanket, brows furrowed in what he hoped was concern and not pain.

“Her body is probably just trying to get used to the new cells. Not making enough blood, she’s probably up for another transfusion soon.”

“How do you know?”

Indy nodded towards what Grayson had assumed was an IV pole - he supposed it was, but instead of the usual bags of clear or milky liquid, there were just empty hooks.

“An hour.”

Bekah’s voice was dry and horse, and although it was quiet, it made both of them jump.

“Hey! How’re you feeling?” Indy immediately perked up, painting that smile across her face that Grayson had started to associate with everything hospital, from the sounds to the smell of bleach.

“Tired. My next transfusion is in an hour.”

“Did the doctor say anything about your counts?”

Bekah looked at her and rolled her eyes, wincing as she tried to sit up in bed. Indy reached to help her but she held a hand up.

“I have a transfusion in an hour, you tell me what my counts are,” she muttered, sitting up for a moment before she let out a sigh and put her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Beks,” Grayson said.

“No, it’s not. You all came to see me and I’m being an asshole.”

“No one is nice when they don’t feel good,” Gray offered, moving to the other side of the bed and resting a hand on her shoulder. It was a simple gesture, a small attempt at consoling, but it was too much for Bekah. The sniffles turned into broken sobs that shook her entire body so hard it looked like she would come apart.

“I’m just tired of this. I’m tired.”

There wasn’t an adequate response to give, so the room filled with silence apart from her sobs as they did their best to hold her together, wrapping their arms around her, around each other. Indy’s eyes were red by the time Bekah’s cries quieted, and Grayson scrambled to come up with something, anything, to lighten the mood.

“Well, if we have an hour, that means we have time for an episode of something. Didn’t you say you were watching Vampire Diaries while we were gone?”

Bekah nodded, laying back against the pillows.

“Then let’s watch one and just chill. Save your energy.”

He set it up quickly, turning off the lights and pulling his chair over to the side of her bed as it started to play. When he looked over, there was just enough light to see that Bekah had reached for Indy’s hand. And to his surprise, she reached for his too. He took it, trying to ignore the way his throat tightened at the feeling of her squeezing weakly - a silent thank you as the episode began to play.

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

The first two weeks of November passed with unrelenting speed. Indiana buried herself in her school work, carving out what she could for quality time for Grayson, even if it was just going out to Jersey with him for a movie night that ended with her asleep on his lap before the opening scene was done. He didn’t mind - he just liked having her around, watching her get closer with Ethan and his mom, knowing she was safe because she was there with him. It was hard to help someone who was so determined on being independent, but he did what he could and she did the same, spending what little time she had encouraging him and supporting him.

Grayson had his own work to focus on, and it filled the time nicely as they worked to get their brands up and running through the holidays, plus the task of finalizing the plans for the details of the tiny homes. Somehow, it was already the week of Thanksgiving before he stopped to take a breath, which he found in the backyard with his brother the day before the holiday.

“Listen. I can make rolls. I can’t fuck that up.”

“Ethan, you could fuck anything up, including rolls. Just get cups. And things to put in the cups.”

“Fuck you,” Ethan grumbled, tossing the football a bit harder than necessary across the back lot. Grayson wished he’d put on gloves, but

“When is evil coming in?”

“She lands tonight, gotta go pick her up at 10:30. Is Indy staying out here tonight too?”

“No, I’m staying at her place, her sister and her boyfriend fly in tomorrow morning so we gotta pick them up. You’re picking up Cam tonight too right?”

“Yeah. Damn, I feel like dad,” Ethan laughed, a puff of white in the cold air.

Grayson waited for him to elaborate, throwing the ball back.

“He was always the chauffeur. I mean jesus, how many times do you think he picked us up from the airport when we came home?”

“True, he fucking hated that drive too. Complained about it the whole time, every time.”

“Like you don’t hate driving into the city.”

Grayson quirked an eyebrow at him, tossing the ball a bit harder, trying to put a different spin on it.

“Okay, fine, used to hate it. Now you just like it cause you get laid at the end of it.”

“True,” Gray grinned. “That makes me sound like a douchebag though.”

“You are a douchebag.”

“We’re identical twins, so if I’m a douchebag you’re a douchebag by association,” Grayson said.

“True. You aren’t a douchebag when you’re around Indiana, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, she wouldn’t put up with that shit.”

“You are a simp though.”

“Says you.”

“I never said I wasn’t.” Ethan shrugged, offering up a smile as he threw. “Eden really likes her by the way. Says they’d be great sister-in-laws in the future. I told her to chill with that shit though.”

Grayson missed the ball, not even bothering to watch it bounce away on the ground.

“Why?”

“Well, you said you were never going to ask her to leave, or move or whatever. And you live in LA, we live in LA, so... I mean, being here this long is just because of the tiny houses. And I know you, you can’t do long distance bro, you’re too physical.”

“Oh fuck you, I can survive without getting my dick wet if it means being with somebody I love.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant, I mean you’re touchy, and you need to be close to the people you love. Like physically close, as in in the same room, in the same house at least. That’s why I haven’t said shit about you being at her place every night of the week. I get it Gray, it’s how you are. But that shit won’t work when you’re on the other side of the country, and I know you aren’t going to ask her to fly out there to see you after how bad those flights were for her. And I love you, and I’m gonna support you, but you can’t fly home every weekend either. We have businesses, we have shit to do. Work.”

“I know that, I’m not stupid.”

“And it makes me feel like a shit brother but you always tell me that I’m supposed to keep you on track, so if that means being the bad guy then that means being the bad guy.”

“E I know.”

“I’m not saying you have to like break up with her or anything but, I just, I think it’s gonna be hard. Like really really hard.”

“Ethan. I know.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt, that’s all.”

“Yeah. I get it. But can you just drop it for two fucking seconds? It’s almost Thanksgiving, let’s just focus on that. Besides, you’re the one who said to wait to cross the bridge when we come to it,” Grayson huffed.

“It’s the last week of November almost. Hate to break it to you, but the bridge is right in front of you.”

The thought made his stomach drop.

“Let’s go inside. S’cold.”

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

It felt unnatural to have her sister in the back seat, but that’s where Charlie climbed in after Grayson had helped them load their minimal luggage into the back of the car and made his introductions. They’d borrowed Lisa’s SUV for Devin’s sake, knowing that his long legs would be cramped in the backseat of anything, especially the truck.

“How was your flight?” Indy turned almost fully in her seat, trying to soak in every minute she had with her sister - they had to fly out bright and early the next morning.

“Bumpy,” Charlie laughed, picking at her nails in her lap. Indy frowned when she noticed - it was her nervous tick.

“Devin I have no idea how you fit in coach bro, I barely fit and I’m tiny compared to you,” Grayson chimed in, checking over his shoulder as he pulled out of the pick up lane.

“It’s a struggle my man, it’s a struggle. But I don’t think anyone in their right mind would look at you and call you tiny. You’ve got me beat in every department but leg length.”

“Hey, if you’re actually serious about growing muscle I can throw together a workout for you while you’re here.”

“For real? That would be sick bro, I could really use the help.”

Indy held back her laugh at how they both slipped into bro mode so quickly, and Charlie seemed to be on the same page as she snickered. Eventually conversation gave way to music, Indy proud of herself for finding a perfect 2000’s throwback playlist that had everyone singing and bouncing around in their seats. By the time they made it to the house, they were all a bit breathless and full of nostalgia.

When they climbed out onto the gravel, Charlie stuck close to her sister.

“Lisa is mom. And Ethan is the twin, Eden is the sister, Cameron is the girlfriend?”

“Cameron is sister, Eden is girlfriend,” Indy laughed. “Thank god you asked.”

Charlie gave a bit of a chuckle, and Indy nudged her.

“They’re good people Char. Don’t worry, they’ll love you.”

“I just… haven’t done this in a while.”

She wrapped her arm around her older sister’s shoulders as they approached the house, squeezing her lightly.

“I know sis. I know.”

Inside, Eden was trying to be subtle as she peeked through the blinds on the windows, watching the whole crew approach.

“They’re here! Come to the door, they’re here!”

“Babe, that’s creepy. Just come sit down,” Ethan laughed, waiting for Cameron to make her next move in chess.

“It’s not creepy, it’s friendly,” she countered, but she stood back from the door at the last moment to try to make it less intimidating.

“Hey guys!” Grayson’s voice boomed loud through the house as soon as he opened the door, his excitement obvious. Cam and Ethan abandoned their chess game for a moment, and Lisa came from the kitchen with a warm smile.

Indiana officially met Cameron for the first time, happy that she went in for the hug. Lisa hugged everyone, making everyone laugh when she looked up at Devin and said “my god you’re tall.”

Once everyone had met everyone, Lisa clapped her hands.

“Alright, let’s get to work!”

The Dolan’s did things in stations it seemed, which pleased Indy’s organizational side that usually went a bit crazy around the holidays. Lisa was nice enough to assign each couple a dish to work on, which of course became a competition, like everything seemed to. Indy wasn’t sure how they were going to truly compare E squared’s vegan stuffing to Charlie and Devin’s vegan mac and cheese, but she didn’t care.

Because Grayson was beaming beside her as they worked on peeling potatoes over the trash can, and everywhere she looked she saw smiles. Devin was swaying his hips to the music while Charlie tried to copy him, just a blip behind the beat. Ethan and Eden raced to see who could chop vegetables quicker until Lisa told them to slow down so someone didn’t end up needing stitches.

LIsa was the master of the operation, working on three different things at once, waving off Indy’s offer of help.

“I used to feed all three of them and their dad. Cooking for an army is second nature,” she teased, but that familiar tone was in her voice that tugged at Indy’s heart. Ethan eventually connected to the speakers and shuffled a playlist filled with everything, from Elton John to Cudi. Grayson got vegan butter on his shirt at one point while dancing too hard, and when Indy laughed he swiped it off with a finger and smeared it on her nose. The kitchen got so hot they cracked a window, with the revolving door of the oven trying to handle all the dishes and all the bodies close together.

By 2pm, everyone took turns carrying everything into the dining room to the massive which Cameron had decorated. Everyone took their places at the table, with LIsa at the head, Grayson and Ethan beside her with the girls beside them, and Charlie beside Indy, Devin beside Eden, who had seemed to hit it off with him in their short few hours of knowing each other, and Cam at the other head.

“Before we start, I think we should all go around and share something that we’re thankful for,” Lisa proposed. “I’ll start. I’m very thankful for my health, and for my family. For my wonderful daughter, and my amazing boys, and my husband, who I love and who watches over us every day.”

She could only speak for herself, but it was a safe bet that everyone’s throats tightened. Ethan cleared his before he spoke.

“I’m thankful for my family, for the quality time we get to spend together. For my brother’s ability to deal with my ass and his help in chasing our dreams and making that shit happen. And for Eden, because… well just because.”

Eden laid her head against his shoulder for a moment before she spoke up.

“I’m thankful for my dream job, and getting to do something I love every day. I’m thankful for Ethan, for loving me and keeping me sane. And I’m thankful for all of you, especially you Lisa, for welcoming me into the family.��

“I’m thankful to be here, to meet new people and get to eat some awesome food. Thank you, for inviting us in and sharing your holiday with us,” Devin said, polite as ever.

“I’m thankful for the wine,” Cam grinned, sipping from her glass quickly just to get an eye roll out of her mom. “And for all of you, and good food, and for family. Charlie?”

Charlie threw Indy a nervous glance before she spoke.

“I’m thankful for my sister, and my boyfriend, who always keep me together and on track, and who make me laugh. And I’m thankful for new friends, and good food.”

Indy had been so intent on listening to everyone else that she hadn’t even thought of her own response.

“I’m thankful for my sister, and for all of you guys, who have been so kind to me. I’m thankful for this guy,” she bumped Grayson’s shoulder. “For loving me, and supporting me in everything I do. And, I’m thankful for the years I had with my mom. I wish she could be here today, but I know she’s up there watching, and she’s thankful that I have you guys.”

She ignored the way her eyes stung, turning to Grayson, who squeezed her thigh under the table.

“I’m thankful for my family, and for the way that dad guided us to be who we are today - all of us Dolan’s. And I’m thankful for Indy for showing me what strength and determination looks like. And for everyone here, because we’re all family. I love you guys.”

The weight of his words hung in the air for a moment as everyone soaked them in.

“Alright, dig in!” Lisa broke the silence, reaching for the rolls.

Grayson squeezed Indy’s thigh once, tracing a little heart with his index finger when she leaned over to kiss his cheek before turning back to the table. They all ate until their plates were clear, almost all of them heading back in for seconds. The final verdict was that the vegan mac and cheese was the winner of the side dish competition, much to the pride of Devin. The evening settled into various activities, from Grayson teaching Devin proper pull up form to Charlie letting Eden take test shots on her camera. Indy mostly watched from the sidelines, happy to see all the people she loved all together in one place.

Her family.

“Thank you for this.” Lisa’s voice startled her a bit, but she relaxed when the older woman moved to stand beside her.

“I should be thanking you!”

“No. We didn’t do Thanksgiving last year. Everything was still too… raw, I suppose. Everyone is here because you asked them to be. So, thank you, truly.”

The tears that Indy had been fighting all day finally found their place on her cheeks, and she sniffled through a laugh when Lisa hugged her.

“Well, thanks for sharing your family.”

“It’s not sharing if you’re a part of it my dear.”

She pulled her close for a hug before the two of them folded themselves into the mix, running around in the cold air of the backyard and enjoying each other’s company as the night drew to a close. They opted for pie and vegan ice cream to finish off the night, and Charlie insisted they take some pictures before the food comas took over. She’d thought ahead enough to bring a tripod, and she sat it up in the living room, making sure every couple got a few that they liked, and that they all got one together. Lisa requested one of just her kids where they of course all goofed off enough to annoy her. Charlie would send them all in the next few days, Indy’s favorite being the one of her on Grayson’s back, wrapped around to kiss his cheek while he grinned with his eyes squeezed shut. It became her lock screen as soon as she saved it, and Lisa went on to get the family one framed, as well as the one of all of them together too, both beside each other on the mantel held with equal importance.

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

The Thanksgiving leftovers only lasted two days in Indy’s fridge. With the stress of preparing for four cumulative finals, she didn’t have time to cook anything, and the microwaveable vegan leftovers were a god send. So was Grayson, who stayed by her side each day as she studied, quietly keeping himself busy with work until she needed him. It was a nice co-existence, both of them understanding the need for quiet but enjoying each other’s presence nonetheless. By Wednesday, she was only left with one last final, though it was her hardest, and she couldn’t convince herself that she’d prepared enough despite pulling multiple all nighters. He quizzed her when she asked, even though he butchered half the pronunciations. His commentary was the comedic relief she needed to get through it though, and she was more than grateful that he was there.

“Last set, and then you need to take a break.”

“But-”

“No buts. Unless you’re talking gluteus maximus.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes. “Baby you’ve been going non stop for 4 hours now.”

“Okay fine, hit me with it.”

“Soleus.” She pointed to the side of his calf. “Extensor carpi ulnaris.” The outer side of his forearm. “Zygomaticus major.” His cheek. “Iliopsoas.” The inside of his thigh.

“Dee, you know these. You literally don’t even have to think about it, you know them.”

She shook her head before he even finished his sentence. “I need more practice.”

“The only thing you need more of is sleep,” he countered. “C’mon, we’re both exhausted, let’s just take a nap.”

“Once we finish the set, then we can.”

“Fine. Serratus anterior.”

She tickled his ribs, making him squirm away from her.

“Biceps femoris.” She heaved his leg up from where it was resting on the couch, pointing to a spot in the middle of the back of his thigh.

“Teres major.” It was a reach, but she made it around to the back of his armpit.

“Teres minor.” She poked the same spot, just a bit harder.

“Okay, ouch, don’t abuse my teres. Uh, gastrocnemius.” She was gentler on his calf.

They went through the rest of the stack like that, with Grayson doing his best to say them correctly while Indy poked and prodded.

As soon as he flipped the last card he yawned, sitting the stack aside and leaning forward to grab her, dragging her on top of him and nuzzling his nose into her hair. Indy sighed and relaxed into him, his warmth and the weight of his arms settling her body down. She could remember the days where she’d always wanted something as simple as this, just laying on her couch with someone to hold, and she tried to soak it in.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you more,” Grayson countered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His hands moved under her shirt over her back, finding space.

R-E-L-A-X

“Can’t. My mind won’t stop.”

“Well, I’d offer to sing to you or some shit, but your ears would probably bleed,” he chuckled.

“S’okay. I’ll just dream about muscles or something. Innervations.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Oh yeah, riveting stuff.”

She wiggled around to get comfortable, her cheek squished against his chest as he rubbed her back.

“Sleep, have your little anatomy dreams,” he teased, reaching over the back of the couch for a blanket to drape over the two of them.

It took a little while, but she managed to drift off to the soothing sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his fingers against her skin.

And she dreamed.

Indiana was in a hallway. White, smooth walls with doorways that stood black and brooding on either side. Her stomach turned a bit, unease washing through her veins as she took a few small steps forward, moving to peek past one of the frames.

“Don’t sweetheart.”

Her head shot up. At the end of the hall was Nicole. She looked young, even younger than Indy’s last memories of her. Youthful, and full of life, her blonde hair familiar as it hung down and framed her face.

“Mom.”

“Hi my love.”

Indiana ran. She barreled past the doors, not even giving them a second thought as she finally, finally landed in her mother’s arms. The tears were inevitable, but she didn’t care that she shook as Nicole held her, the way only a mom could. Held her body, but held her soul.

“Where have you been? Where’d you go?”

“I’ve been here the whole time. Right here with you.”

“I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“I know. But I’m here.”

She pulled back, letting her mom brush her hair behind her ear the way she always used to when it fell into her eyes.

“Look at you. You’re all grown up. Look at those beautiful eyes. So blue.”

“Just like yours,” Indy said.

“Just like mine.”

A part of her knew that she was dreaming. She knew her mother was gone, that this wasn’t real. But her heart refused to accept it, because she could feel her mother’s skin, hear her voice, feel her like she hadn’t been able to in so long. So she just stared. Tried to memorize every part of her face, every smile line, every freckle. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but Nicole was the one to break the silence.

“Baby. I need you to be careful.”

Indy frowned. “Careful?”

“With your heart. I need you to be careful with your heart, with my heart.”

“Momma what do you mean?”

Nicole looked to the left. Indy followed her gaze, surprised to see that the light was on in the doorway.

The doorway to Bekah’s room.

“Beks,” she breathed. Her feet automatically moved, taking her into the room until Nicole’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her back.

“Indiana,” Nicole cautioned. “No.”

“No, no Mom it’s okay, she’s getting better, see? Look, she’s fine.”

She pushed forward, but Nicole’s grip only tightened.

“No baby. Look.”

Indy listened. And she watched. Watched Bekah try to sit up in her bed. She was probably calling for Jessica, or Emily, or maybe even Indy. Her mouth opened, and no sound came out, her eyes going wide for a moment before she fell back against the pillows, chest rising too fast, too shallow. Indy knew what that meant.

“No. NO! Beks! Bekah!”

“Shhhhh baby, there’s nothing you can do, Indiana stop, there’s nothing you can do.”

“BEKAH!” She cried anyways, fighting her mother’s grip as she watched the monitors light up, heard their mocking monotone calls as they alarmed. Nurses appeared, and Indy watched them do all the right things, give all the right medicine.

She didn’t wake up.

“No, no no no no,” Indy wailed, thrashing in her mother’s arms.

“Indiana. Indiana. Dee!”

She was back in her living room, and Grayson was scared.

“Wha-” she looked around, bewildered. She was sitting up, which disoriented her a bit, though she was with it enough to realize she was still in Grayson’s lap.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re safe,” Grayson said, eyes still wide. He pushed her hair back out of her face as she looked down, only then realizing that she’d balled up his shirt in her hands. She let go, looking at the disheveled fabric, which was also splotched with dark spots.

“I’m- sorry, I don’t… I uh… I had a nightmare. Sorry.”

“It’s okay baby,” Grayson murmured. “You okay?”

Those two words brought on a whole other wave of tears, and she crumpled into him, shaking her head as she cried.

It took him by surprise for a moment - he knew she didn’t like to cry, and he’d never really seen her so upset. So he took a moment to process, and then he lifted her arms up over his shoulders, coiling his own around her and squeezing her to him as tight as he could without crushing her. He didn’t speak. He just held her, let her get it out of her system, whatever it was.

When her sobs turned to sniffles and his shirt was fully soaked through on the shoulder, he spoke up.

“What do you need? What can I do?”

She pulled back from him, frame seeming even smaller somehow as she sat there.

“Can you go check on Bekah? I know it’s Wednesday, and I know we’re going to tomorrow but… you don’t have to, I just, I know she’s alone up there, but I have so much work to do, and-”

“I can go. I’ll go,” he said. The pieces fell together in his brain, and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you,” she exhaled, shoulders slumping back down.

“Are you gonna be okay here by yourself while I’m gone?”

“Yeah, I need to study anyways, I’ll keep myself busy. Just need to know she’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure she’s good, might hang out for a bit and watch something if she’s up for it.”

“That sounds amazing. Thank you.”

He didn’t like the idea of leaving her there, but he could tell she wouldn’t have any peace of mind until she knew that Bekah was okay. It reminded him off all the times he’d called his mother in the middle of the night in those last few months before he’d officially come home, just to make sure his dad was still there.

“If you need me, call me okay? I’ll turn back around.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I love you,” she said, kissing him quickly.

“I love you more.”

He shifted her off him onto the couch and got up, putting his shoes and coat on quickly before he could convince himself to stay. It was already dark outside despite it only being 6pm, and he kept his head down on the streets on his way to the hospital, mind racing until he got up to the unit and signed in.

He half expected Bekah to be lying still in her bed, on her back with all her machines on. Or, at least for her to be drained and tired like she had been the last few times they saw her. But when he cleared the doorway she was sitting up in bed on her phone, random Tik Tok audio’s playing. She looked up at him and smiled her brightest smile.

“Earrings! It’s a Wednesday, the fuck are you doing here?!”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You get an extra dose of me this week, deal with it,” he teased, unzipping his coat and laying it over one of the chairs.

“Where’s Indy?”

“Studying for finals. It’s a me you date tonight, you pick. What’re we doing?”

“Well, I restarted Vampire Diaries.”

“Restarted? Bro, you were on season 7 yesterday!”

“Yeah so? The best seasons are the first two, we’ve been over this.”

“Whatever, scootch over.”

She did as he asked, though he had to put the bedrails down to even fit halfway on the mattress.

“Here, get in here so we can send some motivation to Dee,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening snapchat. They moved so just their noses-up were on screen, making Bekah laugh as he sent it off.

She screenshotted it and sent back a heart, which put his mind at ease enough to relax and attempt to enjoy an episode, though he wasn’t really following the plot considering they were almost halfway through the first season.

“So, what’s happening exactly?” He finally asked 20 minutes into the episode.

“Stefan is trying to be all ‘you deserve better than me’, and Damon just doesn’t give a shit. Essentially, Stefan doesn’t want to hurt Elena so he wants her to make the decision to break it off so he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t want to be the bad guy.”

“But if he loves her, then why does he want to break it off at all?”

“Well cause he’s bad for her. She would have to give up so much for him. She’s having to lie to her friends, hide all this stuff for him. Change her whole life really. But she wants to, because she loves him, he just doesn’t think it’s fair to ask that of her. But like… he’s still asking her to do it just by being with her, you know?”

He knew.

“I mean, and he’s a fucking vampire. Yah know, suck suck and all that jazz,” Bekah laughed. “If the rest isn’t a deal breaker, then that definitely is. I mean, yeah, Damon’s a vampire too but at least he just accepts it, and he doesn’t ask her to change or anything.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m Team Damon, if you couldn’t tell,” she tried again.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Grayson tried to shake himself out of his thoughts, but it was proving difficult. Luckily, Bekah just mistook it as him being super invested in the show, which made her happy. Jessica let him stay an extra fifteen minutes, and he took a quick video of Bekah wishing Indy luck on her last final before he left and headed out.

The walk home was worse. It was darker somehow, colder as his mind raced with realization after realization. He did his best to do the math in his head. It was December 3rd, which meant 30 days until he was supposed to go back to LA. All the way to the other side of the country, only coming back to Jersey every few months if he was able to. Ethan’s voice rang in his head as he trudged through the lobby and into the elevator.

That shit won’t work when you’re on the other side of the country.

He tried to breathe it off, put on a positive face before he opened Indy’s apartment door, smiling when he saw her on the couch, pencil tucked behind her ear as she looked over diagrams.

“Hi! How was it?”

“It was good, she’s good. Looks great actually.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket once, then again, and he pulled it out to check it.

A notification of a payment from the joint bank account, and then a text from E.

Booked the flights for the 2nd. Hope that’s cool.

“Everything okay?” Indy asked.

He put his phone back in his pocket and smiled.

“Yeah. Everything is fine.”

#lmao at me not formatting this right haha #lets try again!#mixtape #grayson dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan fanfiction #let me know what you think in exchange for my eternal love

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

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🌟 HAPPY 12TH OF DECEMBER: DOOR TWO 🌟

Welcome to door two of four!

Behind my Christmas calendar’s second door is a... dating, kind of early-relationship, Peraltiago Christmas oneshot! ♥️

Summary: Amy feels like Christmas is crumbling around her and when the stress becomes too much, boyfriend Jake steps in and takes care of it. Takes place somewhere right before S03 E10: Yippie Kayak.

Rating: G

Words: 4k (just barely)

Read on AO3 here

🎁⬇️OPEN DOOR TWO HERE ⬇️🎁

my gift to you is all my heart

Christmas 2015 is the most special one so far, Jake dares to admit - and that’s coming from a guy who really couldn’t care any less about the season of families pretending to be picture-perfect and a 'shallow but pour some glitter on it'-kind of joy. Slap some red and green colors on an otherwise dysfunctional world and call it a happy place for a month or two.

It’s not that he wants or aspires to hate Christmas; it’s not that he wants to be the cynical one in a crowd of happiness and optimism. There just happens to be a lot of wounds, never fully healed scars, from the many lonely Christmases he spent as a child and teenager. Between his dad considering his parental role a part-time job and his mother working full-time to make a living for them, there wasn’t much - if anything at all - for Jake to love about the holidays and more specifically Christmas. On the contrary, the season rather emphasized how dysfunctional his family was...

Perhaps this year, he really hopes, the season of joy and light will feel more… like a season of joy and light. This year he has Amy which is an experience he’s never, obviously, had before and something he’s more than excited to try. His girlfriend loves Christmas and hopefully, it’ll rub off on him even though he’s surely the Grinch in their relationship the second Thanksgiving hits. It’s almost as if, for a month or so, he and Amy’s dynamic is completely flipped upside down. Not that he's calling his girlfriend a Grinch! Although, a secret to no one, Amy does take on a more serious role in their relationship. All that aside: the second the holidays come around, Amy is the most bubbly and cheery about silly, in Jake’s opinion, stuff like napkin-like turkey, too many pies, secret Santas, seizure-inducing fairy lights, and the only thing worse than normal vegetables: baked vegetables… Meanwhile, he’d rather isolate himself in his apartment, with his mayo-spoonsies and Die Hard, as the delusional world outside goes on.

Then again: he hasn’t had Amy around, at least as a girlfriend, before.

It’s a few days before Christmas eve. An evening he’s not looking forward to since Amy’s leaving tomorrow to spend the day and weekend at her parents’ place - which means not with him, and it’s definitely activating his so far decently subdued inner Grinch. How come Christmas wants to come off as this super jolly season when actually it forces him to be away from his girlfriend? What a scam.

About an hour ago he arrived at Amy’s place to find the door locked, which was weird considering that it was her precious day off. Luckily Amy’s already figured out that her boyfriend is of the clingy kind, which she enjoys, so she’s given him a key to her place. This so he can - quote Amy - “Come and go as you please. Like a cat. A really cute, hot cat.”

He’d chuckled at her comment, then kissed her out of sheer happiness because he has a girlfriend that wants him to have a key to her place! A girlfriend who wants him to drop by and cuddle her, laugh with her and annoy her - whenever!

And so here he is: flopped down on his girlfriend’s couch, watching Die Hard, since it’s the only Christmas movie he can stand to watch. He’d sent her a text telling her he was here, making sure he wouldn’t scare her whenever she was to arrive, but alas never heard anything back. This he suddenly realizes as Hans Gruber is taking the people inside of Nakatomi plaza hostage. He hopes she’s okay, suddenly feeling a bit worried. However, the feeling doesn’t last for long. Basically stumbling through the door comes Amy holding what looks like a thousand shopping bags, which impresses Jake so much that he misses the worried frown and sweaty glow on her forehead.

Being the good boyfriend he is, something he takes a lot of pride in, he of course jumps from the couch to help her. “Hey, babe. Need any help?”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

His offer just barely manages to make it out of his mouth before she’s already dismissed him and disappears into her so-called happy place - in reality, a room dedicated to all of her books and crafts.

Even though he doesn't comment on it, it's unmistakably unusual behavior for her. “You sure? I can do whatever you need; help you unpack, make you some coffee, look cute…”

In her little office, Amy is marching, all at once systematically and chaotically, around the room like the devil is after her. It’s as if he isn’t there, as if she’s avoiding him, and just barely takes the time to stop and throw him a vague glance. “Jake, please. I just need some space. I have presents to wrap and… stuff.”

Oh. Space. The word doesn't go by unnoticed and makes Jake's stomach drop. Space is usually not a good word when coming from a partner, he’s experienced, and this time around it seems to sting that much more than back with Sophia. Is this the end of him and Amy already?

Everything they've done runs through his mind with the speed of light. Things were going so well, he thought. Just yesterday they’d been snuggling on her couch, sharing lazy kisses and giggles as their favorite show (they have a show!!) played in the background. Things like “I love my family but I can’t wait to see you again after Christmas” and “Can you believe how far we’ve gotten since this time last year?” were said, making Jake feel so infatuated and sure. They'd even kissed and made stupid remarks at each other under the mistletoe Jake put up in the door frame leading to her bedroom.

Now, suddenly, it seems as if he’s the last person Amy wants around. Without even consciously deciding to do so he backs away from the tiny office, thus allow his girlfriend some… space. God, he hates that word and every memory associated with it.

Communication is key, Jake knows. However, it’s not as if it went well the last time he kicked down the doors when a girlfriend asked for space. Hence why he doesn’t dare to kick down any doors, literally or metaphorically, when the one to Amy’s office is closed.

He doesn’t know what to do; he doesn’t know what he can do? Make coffee - he can do that right? At this point, he isn't sure of anything. His heart starts beating faster and faster against his ribs, and he knows it’s because, maybe not that deep down, he’s afraid. Afraid of losing the possibly best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Coming from behind the shut door Jake can hear thumps and paper rustling. Jake isn’t the big Christmas-connoisseur but even so, he finds, what he believes is, Amy’s present-wrapping abnormally loud and chaotic - something that seems as unlike Amy as can be. He’s brewing a pot of coffee, for the both of them, something he hopes will be well-received, when suddenly the sounds coming from his girlfriend’s furious wrapping-project goes silent. All at once, with a thump, as if she’s hit a wall.

The silence lasts, and though Jake expects the rustling to pick back up any second, it doesn’t. He can feel himself grow considerably more worried. A big part of him, the one that’s still suffering Sophia’s actions even though he is fully and completely over her, haunts him. It feels a lot like being in a tug-of-war between pressing his way into the room, thus whatever is going on with Amy, and staying back and out of his girlfriend’s sudden need for space.

What does it for him is the sound of a loud mix between a groan and a whine. He has to go in, he quickly decides. Gently he pushes open the door, just enough for him to peak his head inside the room, and the sight before him certainly doesn’t calm his nerves: Amy, sitting at her little office desk with her computer before her, with her face buried in her hands and ripped wrapping paper surrounding her. He can’t tell if she is, but just the thought of her crying makes his heart wrench.

“Amy?”

The way her posture completely changes in reaction to the sound of his voice, from hunched over the desk to sitting straight up, as if she’s hiding something surely can’t be good. Even though she tries to be discreet about it, Jake can tell how she quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hands. In a motion she hopes is discreet but isn't. If Jake’s poor heart wasn’t scratching the bottom of his gut already then it definitely is now. Still, he pushes the door wide open and tries one more time with a voice so soft and attentive that usually only comes out when they’re being really emotional; something he’s trying to grow into and better at. For her.

“Ames… Are you okay?”

Even though there’s no one else but them in the apartment - hopefully, it is Brooklyn, after all - he closes the door behind him to give them some privacy.

“I’m fine, Jake.”

Fine is definitely not how she sounds, a shakiness to her voice, and how she looks averting his gaze, rather diverting her eyes to her laptop screen. To make it even clearer she starts typing - she isn’t fine. Anything that can keep her busy and from unveiling the true colors of the situation seems to be on her agenda.

The urge to back out is so strong, overwhelming, and Jake quickly recognizes the old, certainly bad habit. Although this time around, with Amy before him like this - hunched over and so far from the confident Amy he knows - he also feels the opposing yearning to stay and challenge his former habits. For himself, for Amy, for them - the best six months of his life. Seven, to be precise. The fact that he cares to keep up with this, how long they've been together, says a lot about where he’s at. With her he’ll count every month, week, day, hour, minute and second he gets to be with her.

Emotions are key. He needs to do emotions - the very serious kind.

“You’re…” he halts for a second, feeling as if he’s about to jump off a cliff - not that he's ever tried it before. But it must feel scary. Kind of like this right now. “You're not fine. Obviously.”

Slowly he walks towards her and, after hesitating with his hands waiting in the air above her, contemplating whether it's what he should do or not, he places his hands on her shoulders. The way she stiffens under his touch has him alarmed, but just as quickly as she's tensed up she relaxes. As if she realizes she can safely surrender whatever fears or worries she has to him.

“Tell me what’s wrong - please. Is it something I did?”

“No!” She flies around in her seat to face him to hopefully undo whatever worries about them she's ignited. The first thing Jake notices then is her somewhat red eyes and a look that begs for him to believe her. Hesitantly, he does. Still, it doesn’t make the sinking feeling in his stomach vanish.

Amy turns back around in her seat to face the lit laptop to hide. Frustrated she runs her fingers through her otherwise perfect hair and ruins her perfect ponytail; small tufts of hair on the loose and going in whichever direction they please. Something he's only used to seeing first thing in the morning or late in the afternoon before bed. And even though Jake loves sleepy Amy, morning hair, makeup-free face and all, he wants nothing more than to fix her hair for her, carefully weave the flyaways back into the otherwise still somewhat neat ponytail.

“Ames, I’m just kinda worried. Tell me what’s up, please… Even if it has something to do with me.” His hands never let go of the soft grip on her shoulders as he says this. Right now holding on to her feels like the only grounding element in his universe. She suddenly feels tense under his touch again and he hates that he might be the one doing this to her.

“It’s really... stupid.”

His eyes wander across the lit laptop screen in hopes of a possible hint. USPS Tracking Service.

“I’m sure it’s not stupid, babe.”

“I just-” her hand reaches for the mouse but then hesitates as if touching it will expose her. Either way, she decides to go for it; she grabs the mouse and opens the program containing, what he recognizes as, her day to day calendar - the step down from her life calendar. "I bought this really beautiful necklace for my mom for Christmas…”

He figures they’ve got some time ahead of them and gently pulls over an extra chair for him to sit on. In his seat next to her he follows the cursor on her screen, flying all over the different dates, boxes, color-coded labels and appointments - the many perfect elements of a Santiago-calendar.

“But then earlier, a few subway stops before home, I got an email from USPS saying that the package's arrival would be delayed! So I tried to work a timeslot into my schedule, for me to shop for a new gift from my mom, but it’s impossible." Every word flies out of her so fast she can barely catch her breath and the last part basically comes out of her in the tone of a wail. Jake can easily sense that she’s riled up and is making it hard for herself to calm down. With every word, she grows more and more frantic, panicky, as she switches back to the window with her calendar. What he sees shows, indeed, no room for gift shopping. He knows she thrives on it but he sometimes wonders how his girlfriend lives her life, densely packed, like this.

“I knew it’d be hard to fit in, with me working a full shift tomorrow, the polar swim and then leaving for my parents’ right after, but I thought it'd be possible! Turns out it isn’t... I’ve tried to re-arrange the next 24 hours in my calendar in every way thinkable and nothing works. Nothing.”

“Honey...” he consoles, calmly placing a hand on top of hers. On his face is a small smile, one that can rest in the fact that there was indeed nothing wrong with them, even though he of course feels some concern for his girlfriend who is clearly completely beside herself. Though she's finally speaking up rather than shutting him out, it's obvious that it doesn't come easy to her and there's a vulnerability to her panicky explanation. But it's not, never will be, something that'll scare him away. "... It's okay."

"No, it's not, Jake!"

Yelling isn't exactly the right term but it's clear that the two are of a different point of view.

"I had ordered my mom the perfect Christmas present, one that would so surely beat my brother David's, and now? It's ruined. I won't receive the stupid present in time and I don't have time to shop for a replacement, which, either way, will be less good. I might as well stay home for Christmas this year and spare myself the embarrassment."

It takes a beat of silence for Jake to assemble his thoughts and form an answer. The smile from before is once again back; he knows how to kill her insecurities - with kindness.

"While I would not mind you staying here with me..." He leans in to place a soft peck on her shoulder. "... I'm sure there's no way your mother would want you to stay away simply because of something as silly as a present - no offense."

"Jake, I appreciate your support but you don't know her like I do."

Though the situation reminds Jake of just how stubborn his girlfriend can be, something both frustrating but also endearing, he also remembers just how stubborn he can be. Maybe this time, for once, the latter can come in useful. If there's anything more stubborn than a panicked Amy then it's without a doubt a Jake who wants to see his girlfriend smile. He's a man on a mission - Amy's very own John McClane.

"Okay... I know I have a questionable track record but hear me out..."

She looks at him and for a second, upon seeing the anxiety in her eyes, he stutters to assemble himself one last time before showing her, at least trying to, that he can take control and help her handle her problems - even the worst which honestly isn't as bad as she might think. Softly, making sure to not alarm her, he reaches over to remove her hand from its tight grip on the mouse and replace it with his own. With it, he moves the cursor on the screen to point at the blue '9 AM to 5 PM'-time slot labeled Work, followed by a yellow 'Polar Swim'-slot at 5.30 PM.

"... I was supposed to be off a bit earlier tomorrow but let me fill in for you instead. You can leave at 4, go get your mom a gift, which she by the way will love, and make it back in time for the polar swim. I'll stay till 5 for you. I'll run the arrangement by Holt so you don't have to worry about it."

The silence is loud but not loud enough to hide her thinking; it screams through the way she bites her lip and eyes wander all over his face in search of some kind of truth. She turns her entire body in her seat to fully face him and, somehow, she suddenly looks both cheered up but also remorseful.

"Jake, thank you, but you don't have to do that for me. I know I'm just being crazy. My mom can do without a gift this year."

"Amy Santiago," he reprimands before grabbing both of her hands in his, making sure to keep a hold of her gaze in the process. "Maybe I don't have to but I want to. Ames, let yourself live out the full 'Peralta boyfriend'-experience. Also, stop calling yourself crazy when, in reality, you just care a lot. That's good; to care like you do."

Finally, after it being gone for so long, he catches a glimpse of her characteristic glow. Her eyes are also once again shiny and inspired, and he knows he's doing something right. Everything within him wants to do right for her. For a moment they quietly stay back, in each their seat, and look at each other with admiring eyes. Both wondering how they got so entangled in the other's very much different lives. Yet both eternally grateful. Amy's the first to break and throws her arms around his neck.

"You're the best, Jake," she declares with newfound peace of mind. "Thank you so much."

"No need to thank me." His arms have returned the favor and are securely wrapped around her waist. He's forever sure; nothing feels better than holding her like this. Happy. They stay like this for who knows how long, for seconds or hours, until Jake suddenly retreats into his seat and offers her a cocked brow along with a teasing smile.

"By the way... What's up with the wrapping paper-mess?"

"I had to test the new wrapping paper I got!"

He chuckles. God, he adores her.

"But why the mess?" He hicks a ripped piece of paper lying at his feet.

"Turns out I've bought the worst kind of wrapping paper and I got... pissed." She timidly looks down but still smiles, Jake hopes it's because she knows he likes her love and passion for all things crafty. They go silent and he can tell she's thinking. She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, rather insecurely and not affectionately like she would with a double tuck.

"By the way..." She clears her throat then looks at him. Right in the eye. "I'm sorry for earlier. I didn't mean to cut you off and push you away like I did. That wasn't okay - at all. I just-" the words get tangled up and caught in her throat to which Jake reacts by reaching over and softly clutching her knee followed by a comforting squeeze. In his eyes, she sees an invitation to speak her mind and she wonders, every day, how she ever lived her life without him by her side like this. The least she can do is explain her actions, ones that were actually just caused by a stupid defense-mechanism.

"I just didn't want you to see this... unfavorable side of me, I guess. I know I can be a bit much."

"Amy," he coos hearteningly. "Of all the sides of you that I've seen, or you will come to show me as this relationship evolves, never have I ever found any of them unfavorable. You're not 'a bit much'... You're everything I want and need."

Though he doesn't dare say it, not quite yet, this feels a lot like an undefined definition of love - one, he's quite sure, comes from everything she's taught him, shown him, and made him feel these past seven months.

She leans over the gap between them. Their lips collide in a kiss so meaningful that it speaks louder and more clear than any words ever could. He tastes like cinnamon and coffee, and with him she feels safe, like there are no ugly truths about her for him to see through. Every day with Jake is like coming home is. It's no longer just unlocking and walking through a door: it's being herself, even during critical moments, and still feeling welcome in her boyfriend's embrace and eyes. Her hands cling onto his cheeks for dear life, pouring all her emotions into the soft movement of her lips, and it's the most accepted and cherished her A-type self has felt in a partner's presence. Who would've thought that this kind of string of emotions would be a reaction to the touch and care of Jake Peralta?

On his part, with the three magic words just barely clinging to his tongue, he internally decides to hold back and keep them for a more suitable moment. Even if, something he's learned from their relationship, there is no such thing as 'the right time'. 'The right time' is only a theory made up by hopeful, sometimes also hopeless, lovers. Much like themselves just barely a year ago. But with this one declaration, what he hopes will be the greatest I love you of his lifetime, he does want some control. The moment shouldn't be surrounded by ripped wrapping paper and tipped over shopping bags.

Hopefully, she can wait just a bit longer. Then he'll tell her, even yell at the top of his longs, that he loves her. He loves Amy Santiago.

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devnicolee · 4 years

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Anniversary Blues

A/N: just some slight angst then fluff... idk, this is random but I decided my weekend needed some of our favorite Mountain King. Enjoy!

M’Baku x Reader

"Leave us!" you called out, authority reverberating throughout the throne room as you marched down the center aisle to your husband's throne. Like a hunter eyeing its prey, you only had eyes for the man sitting tall and proud at the front of the room as weeks of building frustration propelled you forward. You were so distracted that you did not really pay the rows of soldiers much attention. You tried to be understanding for over a month now. But this was the final straw. You finally had enough.

The chatter in the room ceased almost immediately as the men and women around you looked from you to her husband, waiting for the leader of the Jabari to speak. He simply looked at you with confusion. If you hadn't known him as intimately as you did, the flicker of annoyance and frustration that passed behind his brown eyes would have gone unnoticed. But you noticed and like gasoline to a fire, your anger exploded.

Once you reached the front of the throne room, you sighed deeply at the sustained presence of others in the room. You turned to find the group gathering their things at a painstakingly slow pace, not with the haste you required and demanded.

"Are you all suddenly hard of hearing? I said: Leave. Us. Now. Do not make me repeat myself again."

As the Queen of Jabariland, you were known for your gentleness, your compassion, and empathy. The calm to M'Baku's fire. In your two years of marriage, most had never even heard you raise your voice. This was uncharted territory and no one needed to hear or see anything else. They quickly scampered, scurrying from the room as if they were trying to escape a literal fire. You waited for the heavy wooden doors to slam shut behind the last person before you turned back to your husband.

"What is the meaning of this Y/N? I was in the middle of a meeting."

"I know. A meeting that was more important than our anniversary?"

M’Baku’s heart fell into his stomach. That was today. His eyes studied your body, taking note of the black skin-tight dress (his favorite) covering your shape, the makeup on your face and the small gift-wrapped box in your hand. He hung his head, guilt rushing through him, as he remembered the private chef and dinner you planned in the city to celebrate two years of marriage. Though he would never admit it to you, your anniversary had not even been on his radar before you reminded him of this dinner. And it didn't stay on it long because he quickly forgot to add it to his calendar.

"Y/N… I am sorry. Today has been hec-"

You raised your hand to silence him. His excuses had long grown tiresome, you were not interested in them anymore. "Is everyday not hectic for a chief? That does not excuse broken promises, M'Baku. You are a man of your word, are you not? That is certainly one of the reasons I married you... because you are trustworthy and reliable. So, you are going to need to do a whole hell of a lot better than that." You were not angry that your husband was busy, there was no leader on Earth that was not burdened with too much. And since rejoining Wakanda, your already overflowing workloads had only grown larger. But this was not an ordinary evening, he was not just missing dinner in your private quarters or movie night. It was your anniversary, your night to celebrate your love and commitment to one another, your night to make each other a priority.

"I am sorry, Y/N. I will make it up to you, I promise."

"'You'll make it up to me?' How? When? It is not like you are ever home," you retorted. Your eyes rolled up toward the ceiling as you tried to stop tears of anger from falling before you took a deep breath and continued. "We barely see each other. I fall asleep alone almost every night. I wake up alone every morning. I eat alone, I am basically alone in this marriage. When will you carve out time in your busy schedule to make it up to me? I mean... I just asked you for one night." Your voice trailed off as your anger dissipated and hurt seeped in.

"I am trying to run an entire tribe, Y/N!" M'Baku said defensively, frustration taking over as his pride could not tolerate an attack from his own wife. " I can't always be with you! And it is unfair for you to be angry at me every time I have to prioritize our people."

You almost considered just turning on your heels and walking out the door as you listened to him. You knew exactly what moment you were approaching in this argument, his voice steadily rising to the point where he simply shuts down and refuses to listen or see reason any longer. You let out a deep sigh, trying to calm yourself before attempting to explain your position again.

"I am not asking for always M’Baku! I mean Hanuman! At this point, I am not even asking for sometimes. Merely occasionally. It is not about one dinner. It is about you being emotionally and physically unavailable for over a month. I understand you are running a tribe but lately, it seems like you do not have time for me at all."

For the most part, you had enjoyed a union of marital bliss for the last two years. No real issues, no real arguments. Your marriage and the foundation of your marriage were seemingly solid and unshakable. But something shifted in the last month. Your husband stopped being your husband and he became your coworker. Your marriage stopped being a marriage. It was as if someone extinguished a fire and robbed you of all the intimacy you required to survive. If it did not pertain to a council meeting or tribal business, M'Baku carved out no time to talk to you, much less spend time with you. You had not gotten married to be lonelier than you were before.

You could justify the late nights, missed dates, lack of intimacy to a point... He gave you many excuses but you made them for him as well. You tried your best to bury your frustration and disappointment, pretending like rarely seeing your spouse did not bother you. Because you did understand he served a higher purpose, his responsibility to your people was too important. But, last week, everything changed for you. You started viewing his absence differently, examining whether he actually had time for you or the little ones he desperately wanted. How could you be a successful couple... successful parents if you existed as co-workers and not as husband and wife?

"I cannot ignore my responsibilities to be with you every second Y/N! You knew that when we got married." The bark and anger of a scorned chief now fully coloring his words.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I am simply asking you to remember you have a wife, other obligations outside of these four walls," she argued, gesturing around his throne room. "When was the last time you asked me how I was doing or asked me something unrelated to being chieftess?" you listed. "You claim to want a family but how? When you barely have time for me?"

"That is enough!" He yelled, his fist banging loudly on the arm of his throne as his hubris and exhaustion made him unwilling to continue listening to his wife's very valid criticisms of his behavior. "I said I was sorry Y/N! I will not apologize again. The Jabari are my obligation first and foremost. We can discuss this later in the Golden City when you have calmed down and can see reason."

You scoffed, knowing there would be no later. Tomorrow morning, you were both supposed to head down the mountains for meetings and King T'Challa's birthday party. You saw the jam-packed agenda the Queen planned for the week; there would be little time to breath, let alone have private conversations.

"No! Go by yourself!" Your mind conjuring up the only consequence you could think of.

He immediately shook his head, almost scoffing at your assertion. "Absolutely not. First, your presence is required as chieftess. And second, I am not leaving you here alone for a week."

"It would not be any different than the last month. I will not go down the mountains to smile and put on the show of the happy chieftess when I am everything but happy. You want to be alone? Fine. Enjoy doing your job alone." You turned on your heels to leave him, ignoring the rage painted on his face. However, before you took a step, you whipped back around.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Happy anniversary Lord M’Baku," you stated stiffly, voice void of the love and adoration it usually held for him. You tossed the box at him before you walked out, leaving him alone.

***

You sighed as the masseuse kneaded your tense shoulders and pounded into your back. You preferred M’Baku’s massages… his gentle touches melting away all the tension you housed in your muscles. Usually those massages turned into less medicinal activities, which made you crave them even more. You missed that, especially now, after being deprived of his soft, sensual touches for a month now. But this was a fine alternative for when your stress levels ran too high. The tranquility and meditation was short lived when the shrill sound of your beads, a recent gift from the Wakandan Princess, rang out loudly. You lifted your head to see who was calling before slumping back down angrily.

I should have known who it was.

Three days had passed since your argument in the throne room, three days since you had spoken to your husband. You ignored his 50 calls a day, they were nonstop and incessant. You knew it was not rational to be this angry over one missed dinner but you stood firm in your position. You refused to speak to him unless he was calling to apologize and promise to change his behavior. Any other conversation was useless

The ringing continued, leaving you frustrated. It was over. Whatever relaxation you hoped to get from this would not be achieved with him bothering you. You politely asked the masseuse to finish up. When she was done, you covered yourself in a thick navy blue robe before calling out to Amari, who stood on the other side of the door.

"I think I would like to go to the market to do some shopping. Can you prepare the carriage?" you asked when he poked his head into your bedroom door.

"Are you sure, my lady? There is supposed to be a storm tonight. Lord M'Baku told us to ensure you were safe while you were alone."

You cut your eyes, "My husband does not dictate my movements around my kingdom. This is as much my dominion as his. We will make it back well before the storm. So please, prepare the carriage," you responded coolly.

"Yes, ma’am," he answered, retreating to make preparations.

Less than 20 minutes later, you were off on the winding roads down the mountain for much needed retail therapy. You knew you would find no real comfort or answers in the racks of clothes but it was the only thing to keep your mind off your very real problems at home. But you figured it was a necessary trip either way, you would need new clothes in a few months anyway.

***

"Lord M’Baku, I was sad to hear Lady Y/N was not able to attend," Nakia offered as she and M'Baku shared an embrace at the entrance of the banquet hall.

"W-well yes, she was sad that she could not attend either. However, she was under the weather and we both felt travel was not in her best interest," he lied, fidgeting with the cuff links on his suit. He was not a fan of lying but admitting to his King that he upset his wife so much that she refused to come did not seem like a better option.

"Understood. We are happy one of you was able to make it and perhaps we can all get together soon for dinner. The next time you both can make it down the mountains?" T’Challa offered, as he took Nakia's hand again. M'Baku caught the subtle motion with the corner of his eye and a tinge of sadness blossomed inside as he tried to make it through the night without his partner in crime.

"Y-Yes, that is a great idea. Happy Birthday again, King T'Challa. Will you excuse me?" He saluted his king and queen before finding his seat. He was not in the entertaining mood, nor had he been in the socializing mood any moment since his arrival. He had not really realized how much he relayed on you to survive these hellish events until you weren't there. You made every meeting and event more tolerable, you knew exactly what to say or do, how to charm the right people. His fingers picked at his beads as he contemplated stepping out onto the balcony and calling you. He knew you would likely not answer, like the other 100 times that day. But he needed the silent treatment to end. He missed his wife.

It only took the length of the ride down the mountains for him to see the error of his ways. Your words echoed in his head every night and free moment since the blow up in the throne room. He wasn't listening then, but he heard the words loud and clear now. He had been absent and unavailable. He could see the path littered with broken promises and miscommunication that led you both to this exact moment. It was entirely his fault. He could always count on you, you never missed a beat, never failed to be present for him. And he was unable to be that for you. He spent most of last night brainstorming ways to make it up to you immediately and ideas to balance his schedule to make more time for you in the future.

His desperation to go back home showed through the Jabari King's sulkiness the entire evening, only engaging in conversations directed at him with short responses. His internal debate on whether to call you raged on as he listened to the leader of the mining tribe drone on and on about something uninspiring. He feigned interest in her story until his head guard raced up to him.

"We need to return to the mountains. There has been an accident!" He kept his voice low, as to not attract too much attention, but he failed to limit the frenzy, urgency and fear coloring his words.

Confusion clouded his eyes as he looked up at Dakarai, trying to understand what accident could warrant interrupting an official ball. No one paid the two Jabari any mind as they mingled and danced among themselves. "What kind of accident? Surely the warriors and Lady Y/N can handle it?"

"No! Lady Y/N was in an accident," he stressed. "In her carriage, it hit ice coming up the mountain. She is hurt, the healers are tending to her."

Dakarai was unable to conclude his thought; M'Baku was out of his seat and racing toward T'Challa the nanosecond he heard your name. He resisted the carnal instinct to strangle his guard for wasting precious time and not leading with the critical information first. He caught T'Challa's attention with ease, the King abandoning his conversation immediately at the site of M'Baku's face. M'Baku didn't take a breath as he explained the situation and excused himself from the remainder of the week.

"Take the Royal Talon. Ayo can have you there in under 20 minutes. Ayo," he motioned for the Dora soldier who arrived at his side in seconds. "We are praying for her. Update us when you can."

M'Baku nodded and shared a salute before he marched quickly behind Ayo. They were loaded in the Talon and zooming toward the snow-capped mountains of Jabariland within five minutes. He paced up and down the small ship, praying silently for her health as it zoomed toward home.

***

M'Baku ignored any and everyone he passed as he ran through the Lodge to your private quarters. He threw the heavy double doors of his bedroom to find you in bed, chatting with his private healer. The healer was replacing a bandage on your head gently when M'Baku approached him. You were listening to the healer tell a story about his daughter while patiently staring around the room. You wanted this examination to end so badly, you were exhausted and just wanted to rest.

However, your face lit up when M’Baku walked into the room. You felt bad, the clear anxiety etched in his eyes. You both connected eyes and you offered him a small smile, mainly to reassure him that you were indeed ok. You were in pain, sure, but given the state of the carriage when the guard helped you out, you were just thankful everyone walked away.

“Lord M’Baku, I am glad you were able to get here so quickly. Lady Y/N is going to be fine. No need to worry,” the doctor prefaced quickly, getting the important information out of the way. “The head wound was pretty bad, which caused a bit of panic. But otherwise, all the injuries will heal with time. And the baby is doing just fine as well, Glory to Hanuman. A strong heartbeat.” He turned to address you, “You are certainly lucky, Lady Y/N. The damage could have been significantly worse.”

M’Baku let out a deep sigh of relief, he was so elated to hear that you were indeed alright that he almost missed his last statement. “T-thank you. Th- wait. The baby?” He turned from the doctor to you, waiting for confirmation. If you weren’t so tired, you would have hit yourself in the face for forgetting to tell him not to mention the baby.

“Surprise?” you offered quietly, with a tentative smile on your face.

The healer’s eyes widened and he bowed his head, “A-ah… M-My apologies, Chief M’Baku. Lady Y/N found out last week. I assumed you knew.”

M’Baku smiled politely, mainly to assuage the man’s obvious guilt at spilling his wife’s secret. Of course now, your anger the other night made so much more sense. He, not only missed your anniversary, he ruined what would have been a life-changing surprise. “No need to apologize. S-she had not gotten the chance to tell me. B-but thank you. Could we have some alone time please?”

He bowed to both of you before quickly exiting, leaving the two of you alone.

“You are supposed to be in the Golden City,” you smiled softly, as you pushed yourself up into a seated position.

“Well, the well-being of my queen is my top priority, my only priority. When you are in trouble, I come running.” He walked up to you and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

You grimaced silently but held on to him as tightly as you could with one arm in a sling. While you would have loved different circumstances, you hadn’t been in his arms in so long. Your body filled with warmth like he was hot chocolate on a cold day. He shifted and pulled you so you were curled up in his lap, your face buried in the nape of his neck. You stayed like that for a few minutes before he leaned back to look at you. His finger lifted your chin as he examined the bruise growing darker on your cheekbone.

“None of it is that bad,” you promised. “It is my own fault. Amari warned me not to stay out too late, that a storm was heading through. I lost track of time because… I-I didn’t want to come back here and be alone. I missed you,” you whispered, your fingers played in his beard as you spoke. You had every intention of making him sweat originally but now that he was here? You just wanted to be close to him. “I thought we would make it back in time. Thankfully no one was seriously injured. I am sorry, it was reckless of me.”

M’Baku shook his head, “Don’t apologize to me my love, this is all my fault. You were right, I have not been the present or attentive husband you need. I get so wrapped up in the tribe and obsessing over every little detail, I lose sight of the bigger picture. I couldn’t last 2 days without you. I am in love with you and I know I can’t do this job… this life without you. You were right, my head hasn’t been here with you and certainly not enough to start our family. I am just sorry it took so long for me to see that. Can you forgive me?”

Part of you was hesitant to forgive him so quickly. After all, actions did speak louder than words and recognizing your faults did not mean his behavior was going to change. You picked at your nail beds as you responded, “I will always forgive you, my King. I-I j-j-just need to know you are there, you know? I thought about it and I shouldn’t have waited until it built up to say something. If we are upset or disappointed, we are supposed to speak up… talk. And I didn’t do that. I am sorry too.”

Silence fell over you both for a few moments before you spoke up, “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out by the way. I had this cute onesie and everything. That was the gift I threw at you.”

M’Baku’s loud laugh rang out through the bedroom, “I don’t care how I found out. You have made me the happiest man in the world, Y/N. I swear on my life, that you and our child are my first priority, now and always.”

“I will hold you to that,” you giggled as he peppered your face with soft kisses. He picked you up and carried you to the bathroom. He sat you down and filled the oversized bathtub with your favorite bubble bath and hot water.

“How about this? After the bath, we can pick a movie to watch tonight and a few more for tomorrow?”

You paused as you tried, pathetically, to strip off your clothes with only one arm. He turned and chuckled before helping you. “What do you mean tomorrow? You still have meetings in the Golden City?”

“No I do not. T’Challa will understand. I am all yours. I told you, you are my priority.”

“I like the sound of that.” M’Baku helped you into the tub and slid in behind you. You laid against his hard chest, your eyes lulling closed as his finger traced patterns into your stomach. His lips placed soft kisses on your neck.

“I love you… more than anything,” he said quietly.

“I love you more.”

Tags: @muse-of-mbaku @jellybean531 @destinio1 @skysynclair19 @ashanti-notthesinger @gloriousgam3r @archivistofwakanda @leahnicole1219 @mygirlrenee @dramaqueeenamby

#black panther #Black Writers #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagines #m'baku x reader #m'baku imagine #m'baku x oc

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spencers-dria · 4 years

Text

Turn for the Better

Someone To Stay Ch. 1

Spencer x fem!reader

Spencer POV:

I open my eyes and glance around the room. It's darker than I remember. I must have fallen asleep reading on the couch again. I glance down and see a pile of books on the rug. Oh yeah...I only made it through about four books this time before I nodded off. I sigh in frustration that I'm awake. Might as well get up I suppose.

I wander into the kitchen and pull open the fridge only to be met with a jar of peanut butter, week old left overs, and a half empty jug of juice. Next.

I try again with the pantry. Almost completely bare. I guess this is what happens when you stop going to the grocery store. I settle on a cup of apple juice and a bag of chips... better than nothing right?

I slump back down onto the couch and pull my green wool blanket over me. As I stare up at my ceiling, as I begin to let my mind wander. But this was dangerous territory. I have to keep my mind occupied, I just have to. So I quickly sit back up and turn the TV to one of my favorite Dr. Who episodes. They say that anxious people re-watch the same shows because they find the familiarity comforting. I could definitely understand the feeling.

It was the weekend, which meant I wasn't called into work. Cases had been slow lately, as we spent quite a bit of time doing paperwork back at the office. Unfortunately for me, this meant less distractions. Distractions were good. Distractions were necessary. They are the only way I make it through the days anymore.

Things had finally returned to normal for me back at work. I was going into the field, and it felt like my coworkers were no longer tiptoeing around me. I hate when they do that, and it bothers me more than any amount of teasing ever could. I'm not so delicate, so easily breakable. Look at everything I have been through, everything I have endured. Yet here I am, still alive, still doing my job. I didn't need to be babied. So it was a relief when I felt the regular rapport I shared with my friends return. They had gone back to the sarcastic remarks and silly nicknames. I was grateful for it. They did, however, continue to check up on me. This was something that I did appreciate. They've seen me go down a dark road once before. I have no intentions of ever returning. I was stronger than that... I think. All I know is I have held on this long without resorting to any unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Coping mechanisms...oh how I wish I had something to make the healing process easier. Having a fairly empty social calendar left me alone often. Normally I would find comfort in the peace and quiet of my solitary apartment, but not quite so much lately. I couldn't very well make plans to go out, and I wouldn't even know how to begin to do that. Who would want to hang out with me right now anyways? I'd be a damper on the fun, and everyone knows it. That's probably why my friends stopped inviting me to the nights at the bar.

There I go again, letting my mind slip into a dark hole of anxiety. Its not a safe place to be. I quickly turn my attention back to the show in front of me, letting it drown out all other thoughts.

The ring of my phone quickly draws my attention away. Finally...another case! I jump up to answer, seeing the name on my screen: Derek Morgan. That's odd. Usually Hotch or Garcia call to notify us of a new case.

"Hello?" I answer, confusion lacing my voice.

"Pretty Boy! Buzz me up!"

Well now I'm even more confused. Derek never comes to my apartment. I quickly press the button letting him into the building and opening my apartment door, waiting for him to arrive.

As he comes up the stairs, he gives me a grin shouting, "Come on man! Get dressed. We're goin' out!"

I roll my eyes and retreat back into the apartment, Derek close behind me.

I sink back onto the couch, my eyes glued to the television as I tune him out.

"Aw c'mon. Don't be like that. How long have you been sitting there watching TV? Have you done anything else today, at all?"

I don't answer, I don't even look at him.

"Oh, let me guess. You've been reading all day, huh?"

"Wow, can't get anything past you huh?" I say dryly, regretting my tone as soon as the words left my mouth.

"Alright that it. You've been cooped up in here too long. Like I said before, we're going out. And I'm not taking no for an answer" he says sternly, raising an eyebrow at me.

I finally look up at him as I roll my eyes.

"You know I can kick your ass right?" Derek smirks.

"Fine" I concede. "Well...where are we going? I don't know what to wear unless you tell me what our plans are."

"Don't pretend you don't wear the same fancy button ups no matter where you end up going."

I let out a small laugh...he's got me there.

"Dinner at Rossi's. I know pretty boys are high maintenance but, hurry up or you'll make us late!" I smile at the nickname. Same old Derek.

Y/N POV:

You let out a sigh of relief as you watched your coworker approach you, ready to receive report. It had been a particularly busy shift, and you were ready to get some much-needed rest. You walked to each patient room, giving Clementine summary of the day and the latest updates on labs and vital signs. You stepped into each room with her, checking one last time to make sure each of your patients was doing well and didn't need anything else before you left. Normally you and Clem would spend some time catching up and making jokes, but she could tell you were tired and needed to be home more than anything. You wished her good luck on her shift as you made your way to the break room. After putting away your stethoscope and the large collection of pens, pencils, and markers you kept in your pockets, you finally headed towards the elevator to leave for the day.

You opened the door to your apartment to be greeted by your dog, Juneau. She was a rescue you adopted a few months back. She still needed to make progress, but she had really warmed up to you and your friends and seemed much more comfortable in her new home. After feeding her dinner and taking her for a short walk, you heated up a quick frozen dinner and sunk into your couch. Curling up in your blanket, you spent a few minutes browsing through different streaming services only to land on The Office, as usual. Your mind drifts to what your next few days might consist off. You just so happened to land 4 days off in a row, but you had no idea how you would spend your time. You glanced down at your phone as it lit up. It was your Uncle Will.

"Hey, whats up!" you chimed, glad to hear from your favorite uncle.

"Hey, (Y/N). I'm actually calling to invite you to a dinner some friends of mine are having tomorrow night. I know your schedule is real busy. But I haven't seen you much since you moved up here to Virginia! I know you haven't met many people here yet, but I think I can help you make a start. "

The kind gesture made you smile. You had always been fairly close with your father's side of the family. He had grown up in Louisiana and met your mother at a college in Texas. You spent your childhood in Houston but frequently visited the Cajun half of your family. Uncle Will had moved away once he fell in love with Jenifer Jareau, his now wife, and you hadn't seem much of him the past few years. But as luck would have it, your nursing career had lead you to a hospital in Fredericksburg, VA. You felt extremely lucky to have family nearby, or else you would have been completely alone. But sometimes you still felt that way, which is why you were so grateful for his offer.

"That actually sounds great! I am off for the next four days, and I didn't really have anything planned. Who will I be meeting at this dinner?"

"Well it's some of JJ's coworkers. They're like a second family to us, and I know they'll be just as welcoming to you. I already told them you moved up here, and they've been begging to meet you."

"Aww I can't wait to see Aunt JJ and my sweet little cousin, Henry! Its been so long since I came to visit you guys. I think Henry was barely two years old the last time I saw him."

"Well we all hope to see you a lot more now that you're here. You're like a daughter to us, Y/N. You are welcome to visit any time you like. I know nursing is a stressful job, and it can take a toll. Its important to have family and friends around you when things get tough." You could hear that this was a genuine offer and you fully planned to take him up on it in the future. Being alone in a new state was taking its toll.

"So where and when should I plan to meet for dinner?"

"I'll text you the address real quick. Everyone is planning to meet around 6. It shouldn't be too far of a drive. It's one of JJ's coworker's houses. David Rossi. He's a real easygoing guy, and he loves cooking for everyone. He loves meeting new people even more, so you should feel right at home!"

"Sounds like a fun time. Thank you again for thinking to invite me. I'm really looking forward to it!"

"Alright boo, talk to you later."

You smiled at the pet name used by the entire Louisiana side of your family. I guess the north had yet to steal his southern roots. You hung up the phone. You finally had plans. It would be nice to talk to someone who wasn't a coworker. It would also be your first excuse to dress up since moving and starting your new job. Too excited to wait, you jumped up from the couch and began to rifle through your closet for something to wear. You didn't want to be too over or underdressed. You grabbed a black spaghetti strap fit and flare dress and throw it on with some black panty hose, a lightweight maroon cardigan, and some black heels. You snapped a quick photo in the mirror and shoot a text to Aunt JJ.

Y/N: Apparently I'm joining y'all for dinner tomorrow night...is this too much???

Aunt JJ: I heard! I can't wait!

And oh my goodness, no! You look gorgeous! It will be perfect.

Also...Henry is so excited to see you!

You smiled, more confident in your choice. Aunt JJ had great taste. You had only had the chance to meet her in person a couple times, but the two of you had clicked right away and stayed in touch over text and Facetime. Sometimes she felt more like the sister you never had.

Starting to feel the effects of your particularly difficult shift, you start to get ready for bed. You wanted to be well rested for tomorrow. You say goodnight to Juneau and crawl into bed, snuggled under all the blankets. You fall asleep with a smile on your face, with the feeling that things in your life are about to take a turn for the better. You couldn't explain it...but somehow you just knew.

#fanfic #writing #criminal minds #spencer x reader #spencerreid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #romance #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #original work #original story #Spotify

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luminous-studiess · 5 years

Note

Seeing as you mentioned in one of your last posts that you’ve learnt how to study in the pas semester, I was wondering if you could share with us your tips & tricks, please? I love your blog ❤️

hi!!!!! first of all, thank you so much for the kind words. it always helps when i hear that people like my content, and it’s nice to know when people on studyblr reach out and motivate each other. i hope you’re doing well as well!i guess i have to preface this with the fact that studying in undergrad is very different from studying in law school. also, studying in different undergraduate courses constitutes very different studying styles as well. for me, i took literature, so it was a lot of writing papers and not much memory work. in law school, there was a LOT of memory work. i did really badly for several months because i wasn’t used to studying for those kinds of exams. i may make posts if anyone’s interested on how to study specifically for literature or law classes, but for now, these are general tips on how to study.this is a long-ass post, so my apologies!

HOW TO STUDY!!!!!!! A HUGE GENERAL GUIDE FROM SAM FROM LUMINOUS STUDIES, AFTER ~7 YEARS OF HOMESCHOOLING, 4 YEARS OF UNDERGRAD (AND A MAGNA CUM LAUDE) AND ONE TERRIFYING SEMESTER OF LAW SCHOOL.

FIRST THINGS FIRST: general tips, some life advice, preparation

- actual intelligence matters very little in school. some people learn faster, some take a little more time. being smart in itself does not matter when you don’t work. actual hard work can compensate for a less retentive memory (as i’ve found out over the semester). discipline and a lot of hard work always pay off, even if it seems rocky at first. make the resolve to dedicate a set amount of time to study everyday, even if it’s just an hour or so. a little is better than nothing. - my constitutional law professor (aka my favorite professor) advised one of my classmates to log her work hours. while it seems tempting to set a specific timeslot to get things done, sometimes life gets in the way, and you don’t actually get to work at 3 pm. maybe most of the time you sit at 3 pm is spent fiddling on your phone. to actually track productivity and consistency, time the hours you actively spend studying. put away all your distractions. personally, i like the forest app because it forces me to stay away from social media and lets me use the pomodoro method. on good study days, i get to log my work time in batches of 25 minutes. again, it can be the amount of hours you put in, but what matters is the quality of work you put in. stay consistent. i promise you. it helps- on the study environment: sometimes studyblr convinces you that you need a coffeeshop, an aesthetic library, a beautiful italian garden to get things done. that would be ideal, but most of us don’t have access to that. i suggest you evaluate if you work better in public spaces with a little sound ambience, to hold yourself accountable (coffeeshops, the school library, with friends), or in private, quiet spaces. once you know where you work best, know what keeps you focused. is it tea? a glass of iced coffee? a lofi playlist? a podcast? i find that process a little fun because it keeps the study process a little less dull and uncomfortable, as it often can be. don’t forget to keep it pleasant/rewarding, but note that overindulgence can distract you. trust me, i know this from experience.- study materials: are what you want and what you need. you don’t need anything fancy. personally, i need many colored pens and highlighters because i have a color-coding system for cases and provisions, but for undergrad, my best weapons were just a black ballpen and a nice mildliner. it’s preferential, and just see what works for you. - on study anxiety: i have mental health issues. i’ve been seeing a psychiatrist (and lately a therapist) for depression and anxiety, and it used to be really, really bad, to the point i couldn’t start. i think the best place to start is to find that kind of help if you really have bad mental health. but if it’s the kind of anxiety that stems from being worried that things won’t turn out well, or that there’s too much to do, it’s always best to start, and to remember that even a little, or something imperfect, is still progress. try it for 5 minutes. if you still can’t do it, rest. but sometimes we just need a little push. other things that really calm my anxiety are a good baroque playlist (check out baroque lute/jordi savali’s the celtic viol/bach’s goldberg variations on spotify!!!), jazz, or lofi, and lavender room spray. i also like to use gifs which help you with breathing techniques. you can find them all over tumblr and twitter. it’s also really helpful to ask others for help when you feel stuck. i’ve asked professors for a little consideration and classmates for advice and clarifications when i’m confused. reaching out to other people is often a great way to start the learning process.

- scheduling: i find it hard to keep on top of things, so i’m really thankful to the classmate who added me to a google calendar with all the class assignments. i think it’s a great system for knowing what the assignments are, so google calendar is your friend. for daily tasks, bullet journals help keep me accountable. i have a really simple one. quick and dirty. ACTUALLY STUDYING: methods, tricks, tips- consider the subject. different classes require different methods. some classes like math and chemistry – which, disclaimer, i have very little experience with – require practice problems. for literature classes, this requires much free analysis, annotations, research, and your own interpretations. other classes like history and geology require the memorization of topics. consider what information you need to learn, and how you want to approach it.- TAKE NOTES DURING THE LECTURE. i can’t stress this enough. if the teacher or professor mentions it, it’s probably important. nowadays, for major classes, i mark the topic on the syllabus with a special-colored highlighter that i won’t use for anything else so i know it’s crucial and will probably turn up on an exam. note: if they place special emphasis on a bit of information because it probably WILL turn up during the exam. one of my professors mentioned that a case would probably turn up during the philippine bar exam and guess what. it did. listen to the professor, don’t goof around on twitter (me to my undergraduate self, tbh), take good notes. make the notes into a reviewer during exam season. pass the class.- pre-studying helps. this is mandatory in law school, because mostly, you go to class to regurgitate what you’ve studied (or didn’t study) on your own from the syllabus. for undergrad, however, it helps to give yourself a background on the material so you can engage in the class, and take notes more efficiently. also, as much as possible, do the required reading. you’ll probably do it in one night anyway before the exam, so at least spread your work out and do a reasonable amount weekly.- on that note: if you’re going to rush through the syllabus and do “a semester’s worth of info” in one night (yes we’ve all seen Those Memes) anyway, it will be less of a pain in the ass to actually do the work slowly and consistently every week. trust me. this comes from a procrastinator who’s getting bitten in the ass, so please learn this as early as you can. it saves you a lot of pain later on.- THE CLASS SYLLABUS IS YOUR BIBLE. it’s all there. before classes, go through it. keep it with you during class and annotate it if you have to. some of my friends like to space the syllabus out on a document file so they use the headings for note-making. the syllabus will be your friend during review season.- always learn actively. if you don’t know a word or term, it will always help to google. make notes in the margins. make flashcards so you state information and retrieve it instead of just recognizing it. form study groups. rewrite your notes. engage with what you’re learning and it becomes so much more interesting, and so much easier. - set a time to unwind religiously. breaks are so important to avoid burnout. i like friday nights for unwinding, family dinners, reading, watching series. please rest. REVIEW SEASON: HOW TO COPE. HOW TO PASS. HOW TO CRY AS LITTLE AS POSSIBLE. - exams are scary. i used to enjoy them, until law school, where i’ve been beaten up thoroughly by every exam. but strangely enough, this is where i only learned how to actually study for an exam with huge blocks of information. i realized that this method really helps for undergrad, and probably will get you honors if you stick to a similarly solid method. - study as early as you can. once you know when the exam is, make a study plan. two weeks is a good minimum. sometimes, there are professors and teachers who announce only a week before, which is unavoidable, so honestly. just make a plan. i tend to assign a set number of syllabus pages to cover/study for on each day so i have time to do a second reading/quizzing. - HOW TO REVIEW: remember the class notes? remember the syllabus? those will help you cover everything you need once you schedule. the syllabus is your map for what you need to cover. assume that everything in the syllabus is something you need to go over at least once, so assign a set number of pages/topics per day. the class notes are your guide on what to focus on. note the special topics which have been emphasized by the lecturer. it also helps if you know what parts you’re very unsure about, so you know what to work on again when you have extra time. i tend to make reviewers out of my class notes, which also helps to retain info, because i go over it again. make time to re-read and quiz yourself. - blanking out on exam day? i can honestly assure you that it’s probably because you didn’t sleep enough. you’ve studied the information, but sleep deprivation either makes you fall asleep during the exam (which has happened) or forget what you learned (which has also happened). if you’ve made the time to repeat what you’ve needed to learn, the studying isn’t the problem. i make a rule to try and avoid all-nighters when necessary because sleep is integral in helping you retain information. when i need extra time to study, i go to bed early, and wake up around 3 or 4 am to study some more. it really helps.DEALING WITH FAILURE: - my professor (a huge businessman, constitutionalist, overall a very successful person) told me that he would not get where he is now if he hadn’t failed. failure is growth because you know you’re doing something. the only true “failure” is when you stop trying. some days are hard, some days don’t yield the results even when you work hard. it’s okay. be gentle on yourself. you are still growing.- sometimes i think about the fact that “gifted child syndrome” aka burnout and perfectionism stem from how many smart kids are often praised for their intelligence and not their work ethic. so when they do badly later in life, they think it’s because they weren’t “smart enough” and give up easily. i think much of doing anything entails a lot of embarrassment, a lot of hard work, and lots of failure. it’s so hard to put up with, and it can often be depressing and unhealthy and put you in a bad place. sometimes we need to talk to someone professional, if it gets to that point. but sometimes, it also helps to realize that a little hard work will help us to get where we want to be. - ask for help. i talk to my friends, my parents, and my professors when i’m stuck. it really helps.ok, whew. i know there’s so much more about studying. but i hope this helps for now. please let me know if you guys want more specific study guides. good luck, loves! you got this.– sam

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

ACITW AU Inspired fic - “The Vacation Ultimatum” (Rated PG13)

Summary:

Sebastian wants to go somewhere different for summer vacation this year, but Kurt has his heart set on the beach house. He promises Sebastian he'll at least entertain other options. ... In his defense, he finds something very entertaining. (2316 words)

Notes: This is an ACITW inspired fic I started writing last summer before my computer died on me.

Read on AO3.

“So, babe, I was thinking …” Sebastian leaps over the back of the sofa to sit beside Kurt scanning the pages of the latest Vogue magazine.

“That’s dangerous. Real dangerous,” Kurt comments, not lifting his eyes from an ad for Gucci footwear. Kurt seems particularly interested in a pair of blue-and-black brocade loafers, checking the fine print for price and sizing information. Sebastian, knowing by now what Kurt’s long, thoughtful look (narrowed eyelids, scrunched nose, sucked in lips) means, takes note. “Didn’t we talk about that?”

“Ha … ha … ha. Anyway, what if this year, instead of going to the beach house for the summer …?”

Sebastian doesn’t get farther than that before Kurt drops his magazine and glares at him with the ice-cold burn of a lover scorned.

“Wh-what!? Not go to the …! Why!?”

“Babe…” Sebastian knew there was a chance Kurt would react this way from the second he opened his mouth. Kurt is always at his most deadly when he won’t let Sebastian finish a sentence. But Sebastian had hoped he might be persuaded to listen to reason, especially since he’d mentioned wanting to go on a pilgrimage to the House of Alexander this year. If anything could break them out of their summer vacay rut, it should have been McQueen. A jaunt across the pond would have been a welcome change from their usual trip to North Carolina. But apparently Kurt is too sentimental to break from their routine, even for a journey to the temple of his idol.

Sebastian had been hoping against hope … and he lost.

“Because we go to the beach house every summer!”

Kurt’s eyes shift left and right, waiting for a more compelling argument. “Yeah, and …?”

“And aren’t you getting a little tired of it? Don’t you think it’s getting old?”

Kurt’s jaw drops in silent gasp. “Who … who are you right now? How … how can you say that!?”

“Because over a decade of summers at the same beach house can get kind of stale, Kurt!”

Kurt shakes his head slowly, disbelief deepening fine lines around his mouth and the corners of his eyes. “You’ve known me for over a decade! Am I getting stale?”

“Do you really want an answer to that?” Sebastian jokes before self-preservation and common sense have the chance to shove his size nines in his mouth and stop him. Kurt’s mouth snaps shut with frightening speed, his teeth making a sound when they meet like the cracking of bone.

“If that’s how you feel,” he says, words short, over-enunciated, clipped at the ends as if with razor-sharp shears, “then I can go to the beach house alone this summer, and you can go somewhere fresher!”

Sebastian sighs. He should have known he wasn’t going to win this one. He was defeated before he began. “Kurt …”

“And while you’re there, maybe you can find yourself someone less hard and crusty since I’m becoming so stale!”

“Jesus Christ, Kurt!” Sebastian’s hands find his hair and pull in frustration. “Stop twisting things around! That’s not what I meant! Arguing about the same thing over and over is getting stale!”

“Then stop arguing,” Kurt poses with a wicked grin. “There. Problem solved.”

“I happen to have good reasons for not wanting to go to the beach house this summer!”

“And those are …?”

“For one thing, it’s nowhere near private.”

Kurt chuckles humorlessly. “It’s on a private beach! That your family owns!”

“Olivia and Brian drop in with the kids all the time, unannounced.”

“So? I love Olivia and Brian! And the kids!”

“So do I! But I also love being able to walk around naked and fuck in the kitchen!”

“No one ever stops you walking around naked here at home! And we’ve fucked in the kitchen so many times, we’ve worn ass marks onto the floor, the island, and the table! You can’t throw a robe over yourself and fuck in a bed like a normal person for one month?”

“Kurt! Don’t you think it’s nice to do something new every once in a while?”

Kurt carefully picks up his dropped magazine so that he has something to toss sassily aside and crosses his arms over his chest. “Have you met me?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sebastian says, mirroring the gesture … minus having anything to throw. Not that he didn’t look around him for something suitable, but the only things within reach are coffee mugs and Yankee Candles, and he doesn’t want to accidentally give Kurt a concussion. “You’re stubborn and annoying!”

“Exactly!”

Sebastian snorts at the word Kurt wasn’t quick enough to catch before it flew out of his mouth, turned around, and slapped him in the face.

Kurt closes his eyes on his own faux pas and shakes it from his head. “I mean, about being stubborn. How many times do I stray from the familiar? I wear the same designers all the time, I order the same dish at every restaurant, I’ve driven the same Navigator since high school …”

“Yeah …” Sebastian clears his throat before he accidentally guffaws “… by the way, that’s something we really need to talk about ...”

Kurt’s offended face becomes comically dramatic. “My life is stressful, Sebastian!”

Sebastian pauses his argument to look Kurt over from head to toe - his significant other reclining on the sofa in his pajamas and robe with his feet propped up … at three on a Thursday afternoon.

“Yeah …” He leans over, catches the end of Kurt’s untied belt, and flips it across his waist. “The rigors of your life must be crippling!”

“It’s my afternoon off, you deranged kumquat!” Kurt snaps, tossing the belt back and smacking Sebastian on the chin. “The point is I value our summer together. Most of all, I value the fact that I don’t have to stress out about it because I don’t have to put any energy into thinking about doing something different! It’s a no-brainer!”

“So you’re saying it suits you.”

Kurt points at Sebastian, very reminiscent of a circa 2000 Cooper Anderson. “Watch your step, Smythe, or you’re sleeping alone tonight.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sebastian relents, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry. That one went a bit too far.”

Kurt breathes in deep, exhales long. “Look, when we first got together and divvied up responsibilities, you put me in charge of planning summer vacation.”

“Because I thought you’d send us to all sorts of exotic locales with clothing optional activities.”

“We do those over spring break! And on our birthdays! And over New Year’s! We’ve flashed more people than Tara Reid! I like going to the beach house in the summer! It’s tradition!”

“But we can go anywhere in the world!”

“I don’t wanna go anywhere in the world!” Kurt parrots in a whiny voice. “I wanna go to the beach house!”

Sebastian slaps his hands on his thighs and pushes up to his feet. “Fine. Whatevs. Just do me a favor. For me. Because you supposedly love me.”

Kurt rolls his eyes so far back in his head he glimpses his soul. “I guess …”

“Get on your phone and check out some other spots that you might want to go to. Any spot, regardless of distance or cost. Then we’ll compare, list pros and cons, and together we’ll make an educated decision. That way we’ll know one hundred percent for certain that there isn’t somewhere else that tickles your fancy.”

“I already know …”

“Just this once,” Sebastian says, cutting into Kurt’s grousing, “and again, because you love me.”

Kurt’s face pinches, his lips pulled tight to avoid creasing. He drops his head back on his shoulders in exasperation and reaches in his robe pocket for his phone. “All right, all right. But shoo. I don’t need any distractions.”

Sebastian leans in to give Kurt a kiss, grinning when he swats him away like an irritating insect. “Your wish is my command, oh benevolent dictator.”

“That’s Expedia God to you.”

***

Sebastian makes himself scarce for more than an hour running odd errands - one of which includes buying Kurt his favorite cheesecake from the bakery down the block. He’s both encouraged and relieved when he returns home to find Kurt still in the living room when he should be at yoga, bent over his phone, staring intently at something on his screen.

He missed yoga for this, Sebastian thinks. He must be taking it seriously.

Even more than that, Kurt is smiling, lower lip pinched between his teeth, his eyes positively glowing.

‘Yes!’ Sebastian cheers silently, slipping into the kitchen to put away the cheesecake while allowing himself a moment to daydream about spending this upcoming summer vacation on the French Riviera, which they admittedly did last Christmas. Or in Jamaica, where they’d gone two falls ago. Or, like he’d thought, London, which is where they’d spent Fashion Week. Sebastian stops with his hand on the refrigerator door, chewing his own lower lip in thought. Looking back on their lives together as a couple, they have done their share of traveling around the world, even if they do spend every summer in North Carolina. So … spending another one there isn’t exactly a big deal. They’d recently booked a flight to Rio to coincide with the start of the school year, winging over after the egress of promiscuous co-eds vying for one final fling before hitting the books.

Jesus Christmas!

Is he being a jerk about nothing!?

Sebastian pulls out his cell phone and checks his calendar. Nearly every box of every month is filled with meetings, assignments, appointments. But aside from that, it’s cluttered with trips they’ve planned - the Cape for their anniversary; the Poconos for Kurt’s dad and stepmom’s anniversary; Munich for Oktoberfest, which happens to be a tradition that Sebastian started - one that Kurt hasn’t always been so fond of. He can appreciate the food. He can appreciate the beer. He can appreciate the authentic costumes and the lively music and dancing.

But the second people start hugging and slapping each other, he gets a little skittish.

Last year, Sebastian flew Kurt to Milan last minute for Arbor Day, just to give him a reason to make the stupid day memorable. Thus is one of the perks of being rich. He’d planned on making that a tradition.

So that’s two of Sebastian’s traditions to one of Kurt’s.

Sebastian sticks his head in the fridge, smacking his forehead against the butter dish, and groans.

If Kurt wants to spend this summer - and every summer until the day they die - in North Carolina, is it really such a big deal?

But seeing Kurt stare at his phone with a huge smile on his face intrigues Sebastian. Even after everything, their whole argument, he did what Sebastian asked. He gave it a chance. What if he actually found somewhere else he wants to go? Skydiving? Spelunking? Scuba diving? Another hot air balloon ride?

Sebastian swallows hard remembering …

… they can do all those things in North Carolina.

He removes his head from the dairy section and closes the door. Then he strolls back into the living room, nonchalant smile on his face.

“You’re looking pretty focused there, babe. Did you find something you like?”

“Yup.”

Sebastian’s spine tingles with the possibilities. “Willing to share?”

“Well, in order for you to appreciate where I ended up on my journey, I’ll need to walk you through my process.”

“Do tell …”

“I didn’t have any particular locale in mind, but I knew I wanted to go to the beach, so I started looking up beaches.”

Sebastian nods. “Not venturing too far from the comfortable, I see, but still promising.”

“Tropical beaches, exclusive beaches, private beaches, beach resorts, islands …”

“A-ha …”

“I saw a link for this beach in San Diego called Dog Beach.”

“Very nice. Quaint. I’ve been there once or twice. Lots of nice little communities with bungalows …”

“I thought so, too. But I was clicking through the website and I saw the most amazing thing. Something I wouldn’t mind seeing in person.”

“Really?” Sebastian says hopefully.

“A-ha. It had pictures of a surf dog competition …”

Sebastian’s smile dips at the corners. His voice becomes a little tight. “Okay …”

“I clicked on it and …”

“Let me guess …” Sebastian drops his head into his hands, blunt nails digging into the cold spot on his forehead “… you’ve been watching videos of surfing dogs.”

“Yup.”

“For how long?”

“Oh, I don’t know. When was the last time you were in here?”

Sebastian’s arms drop to his side revealing his disgruntled expression. “You’ve been watching videos of dogs surfing for two hours!?”

“I guess. Time’s just … flown by …”

Sebastian watches in agony as Kurt switches to another tab on his phone, bringing up a YouTube video of a bulldog riding a skateboard. Kurt chuckles and shakes his head.

“How’d you learn how to do that?” he baby talks the screen. “You’re the goodest boy, aren’t you? 12 out of 10.” He scrolls down to the comment section to type that in.

Sebastian slaps his forehead. He turns on his heel and heads for the bedroom before he has the chance to go insane. To be honest, he should have known better. He walked into this one, what with his cockimamey ideas about going somewhere else over the summer. “Beach house it is.”

“If that’s what you think is best, dear,” Kurt mutters to Sebastian’s retreating back, deeply enthralled in another dog video. He waits till he hears Sebastian open the door to the bathroom, then closes out the video and composes a text:

To: Olivia

False alarm! We’re on for the beach house!

He giggles conspiratorially when a message immediately pops up.

From: Olivia

Thank God! See you there!

#kurtbastian #acitw #acitw au #sebkurt #sekurt

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lantur · 4 years

Text

if you were mine - part three

summary: Riza has been working on the unit for close to a year when she starts to wonder whether Colonel Mustang’s interest in her is more than professional.

rated: t | words: 5852

part three of four

read on ao3

Thursday feels like it drags on at work. Riza’s eyes feel unusually heavy, her shoulders ache, and there’s a familiar, dull pain in her temples and behind her eyes.

One look at her desk calendar tells her why that is, and she breathes a small sigh. She’ll be in for an unpleasant weekend.

Riza stops by the corner store after work to buy her usual supplies. Chamomile tea, chocolate, cocoa powder and milk for making hot chocolate, stew meat, and lentils. For some reason, she always craves stew at this time of the month. At the last minute, she remembers that she needs some shampoo and conditioner as well, and tosses a bottle of each into her basket. She goes through it so much faster now that her hair is so long. She still hasn’t gotten used to that.

Roy comes over a few hours after she gets home, bearing a paper grocery bag with almost identical contents to hers. There’s no shampoo and conditioner, but there is a copy of The Best Shot at Success, the recently released autobiography of Ella Schultz, the first female officer in the Amestris military. Riza hugs him tight, and they spend a relaxing night curled up on her sofa, talking quietly.

She falls asleep in his arms, but wakes up alone in her bed, neatly tucked in. Hayate lies near her feet, loyally keeping watch over her.

That morning dawns without event - a surprise. The work day is busy, with more than enough to occupy her mind. Still, as the day wears on, she grows more uneasy.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” Colonel Mustang asks her, at one point. “You seem a little preoccupied today.”

“I’m just concerned about the Abitz murder, sir,” Riza replies. That is part of the truth, after all. “About the possibility you raised that it might be connected to the Bangert incident in January.”

Everyone else is in the office with them, and Breda jumps in with a theory, which thankfully distracts the Colonel.

That evening, Riza walks Hayate in the park, lost in thought. She tries to relax for the rest of the night with the book Roy had bought her, but the attempt isn’t very successful. Half an hour from midnight, she’s pacing her apartment.

“Why hasn’t it started yet?” she asks Hayate. Her faithful friend tilts his head, whining softly in the back of his throat. It’s always started on Thursday afternoon or Thursday evening. Always.

She wants to call Roy or Rebecca, the two people on this earth she can go to with anything, but she can’t. Not yet. Saying all of this to another person will make her fears real, and she isn’t ready for that yet.

“Maybe it’s just stress,” Riza says, but she doesn’t believe it, even as she says it. Even during the year she had spent in Ishval, when she had been a hollow, traumatized shell of a human being, her cycle had been as regular as clockwork.

Riza sits on the sofa, trying to think through the situation with the calm logic that is second nature to her. She is twenty-seven; far too young for her cycle to stop or change. Rebecca once mentioned that her mother had gone through menopause early, in her late thirties, but that’s a decade away yet.

She’s heard that women can miss their periods if they’ve lost weight, or are very active. She’s no more or less active than she has always been, and her clothes fit the same as they always have - not any looser. But they’re not any tighter, either, which should rule out the fear she can’t even verbalize in the privacy of her own mind.

Still, it takes her hours to fall asleep.

Riza spends Saturday with Rebecca, and manages to act normally enough that Rebecca doesn’t seem suspicious of anything amiss.

She wakes up late on Sunday morning, a leaden feeling in her stomach. Even without having to go to the bathroom, she knows that her period hasn’t started yet.

“Fuck,” Riza says softly, staring at the ceiling.

She can’t bring herself to eat breakfast. Her stomach rebels at the thought - god, her stomach actually rebels at the thought. Riza sobs once, standing in front of the stove, and immediately presses her hand to her mouth, as if she could stuff the sound back inside her. Now isn’t the time for panic or for her emotions to take over. Now is the time for calm detachment and action.

She tilts her head back and breathes deeply, in and out, until her composure returns and she’s able to take Hayate for a walk.

After coming home to drop Hayate off, Riza sits on the sofa for several minutes, resting her palms against her knees, trying to ground herself. Then, she rises and walks to the pay phone on the far east side of Trettach Park. This particular pay phone and the area around it are almost always deserted.

She enters the booth, drops the coins in, picks up the phone, and dials a number with a Central area code.

The line is picked up after the fifth ring. “Hello?”

The gruff voice is immediately recognizable. “Hello, Madame Christmas,” Riza says. “It’s Elizabeth. How are you?”

“Ah, Elizabeth.” She can hear the smile in Chris Mustang’s voice. “How many times do I have to tell you that you should call me Chris?”

“At least one more, Madame.”

“Stubborn girl. Well, that’s why you suit Rhys so well. Birds of a feather.” Chris sighs. “How’s he doing? Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

The mention of Roy makes Riza swallow over her suddenly dry throat. “Yes, for now.”

“And you?”

Riza winds the cord of the phone around her finger. “Actually, that’s why I called,” she says. “I haven’t been feeling well lately.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end, and Riza knows that Chris has understood her meaning.

“I see,” Chris says carefully. “What’s wrong?”

“Headaches, back pain, fatigue. And I’m late, which never happens.” Riza looks down at the floor. “I had a little nausea this morning. Though that could have been from nerves.”

There’s another, longer pause. “Those are all early signs,” Chris says. Her voice is softer, sympathetic.

Her stomach plummets, and Riza rests her hand against the wall to steady herself. “But how?” she asks. “How could this have happened? I’ve been as reliable with my tea as I always have. I’ve never missed a day.”

Chris sighs. “There can be inconsistencies, from batch to batch,” she says. “Issues with quality control. Some of the people who source it will mix in powdered aster to add bulk. It’s indistinguishable from Queen Anne’s Lace in color, odor, and taste. And even pure Queen Anne’s grows stale, over time, and loses effectiveness. Some apothecaries aren’t reliable at taking older batches off the shelves when they should.”

Riza closes her eyes, fighting the wave of dizziness that washes over her, and the panic. “Chris,” she says hoarsely. She wants to sink to the ground. “What am I going to do? I can’t - we can’t--”

“Breathe, Elizabeth,” Chris instructs. ��Take four deep breaths. Stay with me.”

Riza breathes in, out, in, out, shakily. Her hands are trembling so hard she can barely hold onto the phone. “Okay,” she says. She trusts Chris. Chris has guided probably a hundred other women through what she is going through now. “I’m here.”

“The one good thing about this is that you caught it early,” Chris says. “And that is a very good thing. There’s no need for any back alley operations that will put you in danger.”

Riza presses a hand to her mouth. “Really?”

“Yes. It’s a matter of two herbal tinctures, one of crocus sativus and one of mesua ferrea.”

“Hold on,” Riza says faintly, bending down and searching for the notebook that she always keeps in her shoulder bag. “I need to…”

“Don’t worry about writing these down,” Chris says at once. “After what happened with the Queen Anne’s, I’m not trusting any apothecary in East City to handle this. I’ll brew some myself and I’ll send one of my couriers over. She’ll bring my written instructions on how to take them, as well as detailed notes of exactly what you can expect after you do. She’ll arrive tomorrow morning by eight.”

“Thank you,” Riza whispers, her eyes stinging. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me. You’re family, and I look out for family.” Chris heaves a long sigh. “I’m sorry,” she says. “That it has to be this way.”

Riza thinks back to their last visit to Central, to Chris’s teasing Roy about when they would get married and give her a grandchild to spoil, because she wasn’t getting any younger, you know. She nods mutely, and then remembers Chris can’t see her. “I am, too,” she says, and her voice cracks.

“Have you told Rhys?”

“Not yet,” Riza says. The thought brings back the feeling of wanting to throw up.

“Tell him,” Chris advises. “I know how strong you are, but this is too much of a burden for even you to shoulder alone.”

“I will.” Riza wipes her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Stay strong, Elizabeth. Take care. I’ll call you to check in after a few days.”

Riza walks home, feeling dazed. Hayate greets her at the door, and she sinks to her knees and wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face in his fur.

She isn’t sure how long she stays like that. She doesn’t want it to - she wants to keep it at a safe distance, removed - but it sinks in, slowly, inexorably.

She is pregnant, and tomorrow, she won’t be.

The strain of the morning exhausts her. Riza sleeps on the sofa for an hour, wakes, forces herself to choke down some buttered toast. She makes the second of the three phone calls she has to make today, and manages to avoid breaking down into tears on the phone.

Then she makes the third call. She reaches Roy on his office line, because Sundays are his designated day to finish as much work as he needs to, while having the privacy of East City Command entirely to himself. On Sundays, there’s no need to maintain any of the farce of incompetence and lazy, lackadaisical attitude that has been his mainstay for so many years.

“Hello, Colonel,” Riza says, when he picks up. To her relief, her voice is calm and even. “I’m sorry to bother you at work.”

She hears the rustle of paperwork being set down. “It’s never a bother to hear from you, Lieutenant,” Roy says. “What’s going on?”

“I have an idea about the recent murders of former State Alchemists that I’d prefer not to share over the phone. Would you mind stopping by after you’re finished?”

“I’ll be there in an hour,” Roy says at once. “Would you like me to bring any of the evidence files?”

“That won’t be necessary, sir. Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

Cleaning her guns has always been a calming ritual. Gathering the supplies - cleaning solvent, gun oil, bore brush, patch holder and patches, cleaning rod, flashlight, cleaning brush, soft cloths for polishing. Unloading, disassembling, scrubbing and lubricating the barrel and the action, putting it all back together again, polishing the metal until it gleams lovely, subtle gray and burnished silver.

Riza cleans three of her guns and she’s just finished with putting her supplies away when she hears the key turn in the lock. Roy steps inside, and his smile at seeing her almost instantly fades into an expression of concern. “Riza,” he says, crossing over to the sofa and taking her into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

She bites back the instinctive response, to deny that anything is wrong; to claim that everything is fine. It is her job to protect Roy, and for an instant, Riza debates lying, telling him that there’s nothing amiss or just that she’s sick, and sending him away. She can bear this burden on her own, and protect him from it. Why should both of them suffer?

But something inside her warns her that she’ll regret that if she does, and Riza takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She glances at him for a second, and her gaze slides away. She can’t look at him. She can’t. She stares at the potted plant on the coffee table instead. “I’m pregnant,” she says.

The words fall, heavy, between them.

Roy blinks, looking stunned, like she had just struck him. Riza sees the panic begin to dawn in his eyes, then, the horror, the realization of what this means for them. It makes her stomach turn. Nobody ever wants to see panic and horror in the person they love’s eyes, and know they are the cause of it.

“I’m not keeping it, of course,” she continues. Her voice is remote, calm, unrecognizable even to herself. “I called your aunt from a pay phone this morning. She’s sending a couple of tinctures for me to take, and they should get here by tomorrow morning. It’s early enough that there’s no need for a surgical procedure.”

The expression of relief that flits across his face is gone in an instant, replaced by genuine concern, but it’s enough to gut her.

“Riza,” Roy says, reaching out to her, taking her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t reply. She has no strength to speak.

Roy draws her into his arms, holds her close and so tightly it almost hurts, strokes her hair. Riza can feel his ragged breaths against her body, and she screws her eyes shut. She hasn’t wanted to break down so badly in years.

“It has to be done,” she says, her voice muffled by his shoulder, and she is proud that her voice remains steady. “Our careers - your ambition… We have to do this.”

Roy strokes her cheek. He is silent for a long while. It is a wild, ridiculous thought, but Riza imagines him saying Don’t, and her heart breaks.

“Thank you,” he whispers, at last. His voice cracks.

Riza bites the inside of her cheek and nods.

“If you wait to take the tinctures until tomorrow evening, I can be here with you,” Roy says, pulling back and looking into her eyes. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I won’t be.” Riza wraps her arms around herself. “I called Rebecca earlier. She’s taking the next train over from her parents’ place. And don’t worry - she doesn’t know anything except for the fact that my friend Elizabeth has fallen ill, but will make a full recovery after a course of some antibiotics.”

She hadn’t meant the words to sound bitter, genuinely wanting to assuage the question on his mind, but Roy slumps, rubbing the back of his neck. He takes it for a rebuke, and takes it without a word of denial. “Thank you,” he says again, quietly. “And I’m sorry.”

“It’s the right decision,” Riza repeats. “I know that.” And if she says it out loud enough, maybe that will lessen the knot in her chest, relieve the pit in her stomach and the weight pressing down on her shoulders.

Roy looks at her, concerned, and he opens his mouth to speak, but at that moment there’s nothing Riza wants more than to be alone. Far away from here. No, just far away from him. She’s never felt that way before.

“You should go,” she says, standing up.

He stays put. “I don’t want you to be by yourself,” he repeats.

There’s so much guilt written on him. She hasn’t seen him like this since Ishval. Even now, Riza worries for him, and makes herself smile a small smile. “I’m not alone,” she says, gesturing to Hayate, who rises from his spot near the window and trots to her side. “Besides, the last thing you want is for Rebecca to walk in on you here.”

“Oh. Right.” Roy finally stands, a little unsteady on his feet. “I’ll come over tomorrow after work, to check in.”

She doesn’t particularly want that; can’t imagine how she will face him, but Riza inclines her head anyway.

Roy steps close and cups her face in his hands, kisses her brow with such tenderness. Riza’s hand closes in the fabric of his shirt, holding on for a moment. There’s so much she wants to say, but she can’t.

She lets go, like she will tomorrow.

Roy leaves, looking back over his shoulder worriedly the whole time, as if he’s afraid she will combust.

Riza sinks back into her sofa and holds her arms out to Hayate. He bounds up beside her immediately, curling in her lap, and she strokes his soft, warm fur, numb.

She must have drifted off again, weary from this hellish day. When she wakes, she immediately realizes that she and Hayate aren’t alone on the sofa anymore. Rebecca is sitting beside her, a book open on her lap, two cups of tea on the coffee table in front of them. She smiles softly. “Hey, Ri.”

Riza leans into her, wrapping her arms around her friend in a rare moment of expressiveness. “Thanks for coming,” she murmurs. “I owe you.”

Rebecca strokes her hair, and then offers her the cup of tea. “You don’t. This is what friends are for.”

They pull back and look each other in the eye. “He’s not forcing you to do this, is he?” Rebecca asks at last, breaking the silence.

The bluntness of the question startles Riza, and she almost drops her tea. “What?”

“Come on, Riza,” Rebecca says softly. “He’s your commanding officer. Is he--”

She wants to deny it, she should, but she respects her friend too much to lie to her face. Rebecca deserves better than that. Riza shakes her head. “No,” she says. “I… I made the call before I even told him.”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“It’s what I have to do,” Riza repeats, for what feels like the hundredth time, out loud and in her mind, that day. “For both of us.”

Rebecca sighs. “You don’t think there’s a way to keep it, without revealing who the father is?”

“No.” Riza stares into her teacup. “People would talk, and they would assume it’s him. It would end my career, and jeopardize his as well. And I can’t do that.”

“Fuck his career," Rebecca mutters under her breath. "Adoption?” she suggests, though she sounds unconvinced.

“I admire women who can make that choice, but carrying this pregnancy and holding our…” - Riza chokes - “Our child in my arms, and giving it to someone else to love? I know I can get through this, but I don’t think I could survive that.”

Riza turns away, unable to face the sympathy on Rebecca’s face. “It’s for the best,” she repeats. “The pain will be temporary.” And she remembers her father tattooing the Flame Alchemy array onto her back, and the agony of Roy burning away parts of it.

The physical pain will be temporary. She has heard about the cramps, the bleeding, that can occur with abortifacients. But the rest of it, the grief, the emotional pain - she will carry that with her, just like Ishval.

Rebecca takes her hand. “I’ll be here for you,” she says bracingly, reading her mind. “You’ll get through this, just like you did the rest. Now, I’m going to go make us something to eat.”

Riza’s stomach rebels at the thought. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry right now.”

Rebecca holds a hand up. “Not up for discussion. Dinner, then sleep. You need to keep your strength up.”

Riza can’t argue with that.

Riza had thought that sleep would be difficult in coming, but she is so weary emotionally that she succumbs just after dinner with Rebecca. She dreams of Ishval, and wakes up with tears in her eyes. She wonders if this is penance.

The morning has a surreal, dreamlike quality to it. Rebecca receives Madame Christmas’s courier at eight, and the two of them open the paper bag and look over the tinctures inside, and the enclosed letter. Riza reads the letter twice, taking in the instructions and the warnings. The tinctures have to be drunk consecutively. There will be cramping, and the bleeding will start one to four hours after taking the second of the two tinctures. There might be blood clots that could be “up to the size of a lemon.”

Rebecca takes Riza’s arm, and she holds on to it, grateful for the stability and gravity of Rebecca on one side of her and Hayate sitting next to her.

“Come on,” Riza says, finally. Her throat aches. “Let’s do this.”

They sit on the bathroom floor together. Rebecca holds a glass of water, and Riza holds the two tinctures of amber liquid. They look so innocuous.

“It’s not too late,” Rebecca says. “If you change your mind, know that I will do anything to support you. I have family connections in the civilian sector that can help you find another job.”

Riza takes her hand and squeezes it. “I know. Thank you.”

She is scared. It hurts to admit it, and it’s stupid, because this is the natural consequence of their actions, but she is scared. And as much as she had wanted him far away last night, right now, she wishes Roy were by her side.

Both tinctures taste bitter on their way down.

Roy goes straight to the liquor store after leaving Riza’s apartment.

He pastes a bright smile on his face the moment before he steps inside, and greets the employees cheerfully. He chats with them as he grabs a bottle of vodka, then whiskey, and then rum. He is stocking up for a party tonight, a gathering of old friends from his academy days. He can’t wait. It’s been more than a year since they last got together.

The smile falls off Roy’s face as soon as he leaves the store. He wants nothing more than to break open one of the bottles on the walk to his house, but he stops himself. Public intoxication is conduct unbecoming of an officer. Just like carrying on a secret affair with one’s subordinate and forcing her to face the consequences on her own.

Roy opens the bottle of vodka as soon as he’s back in his dark, small apartment. He has three gulps down, burning his chest like fire, by the time he collapses on the sofa, head in his hands.

The next day is hell.

Drunk for most of the night, raging hangover and trying to hide it, three hours of sleep, painfully hot shower to attempt to wash the smell of liquor off of him before coming into work, hell.

“Where’s Hawkeye?” Havoc asks, as soon as they’re all (not all) in the office. Riza’s absence is conspicuous; Roy feels it like one of his senses had suddenly vanished.

Falman scratches his head. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen her miss a day before.”

Roy stares down at his paperwork and tries not to flinch.

“Out sick,” Fuery replies, looking up from his radio. “She left a message. Said she should be back by mid-week.”

“Must be a hell of a cold,” Breda says. “Let’s order a soup delivery from Harmann’s to her place over lunch.”

Roy spends the day staring at his paperwork and getting nothing significant done. His head pounds. Every other moment he finds himself thinking about how Riza is doing.

He knows more about medical abortions than the average person, from listening to his aunt and the ladies at the bar. He knows more than he wants to. The painful cramps, clots, nausea, dizziness. And he remembers hearing about the infection that had sent Vanessa to the hospital in the middle of the night and nearly killed her.

He was supposed to protect Riza. She is the most important person in his world. He was supposed to protect her, not put her in one of the worst positions of her life, to the point of putting her health in danger. He hasn’t failed so colosally since Ishval. The shame makes Roy’s throat close up and his face burn.

He let her down. Riza has shown him nothing but loyalty, devotion, compassion, empathy, and love, for all these years, and he has repaid it like this. With a secret abortion alone at home. He can’t even be by her side today, because then they’d be out of work at the same time. Then people would talk, rumors would spread, and that would sabotage their careers and his ambition.

Roy rubs his eyes and curses himself for selfish garbage. He asks himself, for the tenth time since the last evening, if his ambition is worth it.

At least Riza isn’t completely alone, he remembers belatedly. Rebecca is with her. That is a small comfort. And he can go see her as soon as he leaves work (but after night falls and the city streets begin to empty out, because nobody needs to see him visiting his adjutant’s apartment alone, because then people would talk, rumors would spread…)

The thought of seeing Riza makes Roy’s chest tighten with anxiety. He wants to see her, he needs to see her - your selfish wants and needs are what got Riza into this situation in the first place, he reminds himself brutally - and at the same time, something in him shrinks back from the thought. He remembers the way she had looked at him last night, removed and distant. Riza has never looked at him like that before.

What if she hates him now? What if she’ll never be able to look at him again without remembering the pain he has put her through?

His palms are sweating. Roy wipes them against his chair, trying to still the slight tremble to them.

He can’t remember the last time he felt so sickeningly, viscerally anxious. The rest of the hours drag by. One by one, the rest of the team leaves for the evening.

Roy locks up the office once they have all gone. Stops in the locker room, changes out of his uniform, washes his face, dry heaves over the sink a few times.

He goes to Bosque’s after leaving and picks up food for Riza. It’s blissfully dark by then. A blessing, considering how badly the lights and sunshine have made his head pound all day. He’s walking up the stairs, lost in thought, and almost runs into someone coming down.

She is short, dark-haired, and looks just as preoccupied as he had been. They recognize one another the instant they lock eyes.

“Catalina,” Roy manages, inclining his head, suppressing the immediate, instinctive reaction of fuck, this is bad.

Rebecca’s eyes narrow. “Scumbag,” she says, and shoulders past him, continuing down the stairs.

Roy stares, taken aback. Before she can get too far, he reaches out, grabbing her by the arm. “Wait,” he says, too loudly. “How is she?”

Rebecca shakes him off. “Like you ca--”

“Please,” Roy interrupts. In any other time, he would have been incensed, but now, all he feels is weariness and worry.

“She’s okay,” Rebecca says at last, refusing to make eye contact with him. “It went as well as can be expected. No sign of fever or complications.”

Roy closes his eyes, and all the breath leaves his body in a long sigh. “Thank you,” he says. “For being there when I couldn’t.”

Rebecca glares at him and then whirls around, leaving without another word.

Roy proceeds upstairs, unlocking the door with some trepidation. “Riza?” he calls, stepping inside.

Hayate yips, but doesn’t rise from his spot on the sofa, next to Riza. She sits there, wrapped in a blanket, the book he had given her on her lap, cup of tea in her hand. She looks at him, and her grasp on the teacup seems to tighten. “Hey,” she says quietly.

Her face is pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes. She looks drawn, exhausted.

Roy drops the bag of food on the floor and walks over to her, enfolding her in his arms without a word. There is so much he wants to say, so much that he had planned to say during those hours of work, and now, he can’t bring himself to speak.

“How are you feeling?” he manages, at last.

“I’m okay,” Riza says, drawing away from him, resting her hands on Hayate again. His fur warms her hands so well. She’s felt cold most of the day. “Still a bit...sore. But the worst of it has been over for hours.”

“I’m glad,” Roy says, pulling in a ragged breath, and Riza looks at him out of the corner of her eye, through her bangs. Even now, the sight makes her aching shoulders tighten a little further out of worry. He looks as awful as she’s ever seen him, and he smells faintly of alcohol. He had made the effort to shave, but there’s a fresh cut on his cheek.

It’s clear that he hasn’t taken this well. Or in stride. She never likes to see him agitated, let alone deeply disturbed like this, but it gives Riza a sense of perverse reassurance. That at least she isn’t the only one suffering. The thought makes her feel guilty a heartbeat after she has it.

“I’m so sorry,” Roy whispers. He takes her hand, holds it tightly, stares at the coffee table.

“Don’t be,” Riza makes herself say, because that is the right response. “This wasn’t your fault. It was both of us.”

Roy turns and looks at her with that intense, penetrating stare she knows so well, the one that can root anyone to the floor and cause any thought of untruths to wither and die. “Are you all right?” he asks, and that look on his face prevents her from her first, instinctive response. “I’ve always counted on you to be honest with me. Please don’t stop now. Don’t feel that you have to hold back in order to spare me anything.”

That sincerity, the plea, cuts deep. Riza meets his gaze. “I know this is what I had to do,” she says carefully, willing herself to keep her voice steady. “What we had to do. I kept - keep - telling myself that. And you. And Rebecca. I kept thinking that, but…”

She trails off, suddenly unable to say another word.

“Oh, Riza,” Roy whispers, sounding anguished, and he puts his hand on her shoulder.

Riza folds into herself, wrapping her arms around her stomach, and breaks down sobbing. Roy pulls her into him, holding her tightly as she weeps, curling against him, painful, gasping for air, gut-wrenching sobs, like she hasn’t since her mother died and then Ishval. As hard as she tries, she can’t stop. “I wanted it,” she cries. “I know it’s stupid, but I wanted it, so badly, and...and--”

“It’s not stupid,” Roy says hoarsely. She can feel the moisture in her hair and knows that he is crying too.

She hadn’t cried when the cramps had wracked her body, and hadn’t cried when the bleeding had started. She had put herself into a stoic daze, like she had so many times before. Now, it’s like a dam has broken. Riza cries for what feels like hours, until her ribs and eyes ache and she can barely breathe.

Roy holds her the entire time, stroking her hair, wiping her face with the corners of her blanket. When her tears finally subside, he tilts her face up to his with a gentle pressure of fingers on his chin, and Riza looks up into his reddened eyes.

“Next time, it will be different,” Roy says quietly. “I promise you that.”

His voice is deadly serious, the way it had been when he had vowed to become Fuhrer. The words take a moment to sink in, and they make her eyes burn all over again. Riza nods wordlessly.

Roy reaches out and tucks a lock of stray hair behind her ear. Then he looks at her, a searching, tentative gaze. He leans forward, slowly, like he’s never done before, clearly telegraphing the movement, and kisses her softly on the lips.

Riza kisses him back, like she has a thousand times before. But this time, instead of feeling like coming home, like comfort, it hurts. As viscerally as it had when he had burned the skin on her back so long ago.

She jerks away instinctively, automatically. Roy blinks at her, startled, and then turns red. “I’m sorry,” he says hastily. He reaches toward her, and then hesitates, pulling his hands back, as if remembering himself. “I shouldn’t have just--”

Riza touches his knee, feeling his leg twitch beneath her hand. “It’s not you,” she says, with feeling. “It just feels too...raw...right now.” She pauses, struggling with the words. “It might be a while until everything feels...right. I just need time.”

“Of course,” Roy says, running a hand through his hair, making it stand on end.

He looks like he is going to say something, and Riza forestalls him. “You don’t have to wait for me,” she says. “If all of this has become too much of a complication in your life, a distraction from your goal. Or if you’d rather be with a woman you can actually take out in public. Someone without all of this--” she tries not to choke on the word, and gestures between them. “Baggage.”

Roy grabs her hand, giving her another one of those intense looks. “Riza,” he says. “There is nobody else I would rather be with. I don’t care how long I have to wait for you. Whether it’s weeks, or months, or years. I’ll wait, without question.”

“Roy--”

“I’m a patient man,” he says, squeezing her hand. “And I won’t be deterred from my goals. You should know that.”

“I do,” Riza whispers, relenting at last. “I do. And thank you, for understanding.”

“Always.”

Roy stays over that night, though, just to make sure that she is all right. They eat dinner together and Roy takes Hayate out for a short walk. Afterward, he tucks her into bed and settles into the reading chair in the corner of her room, near the window. Riza falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She wakes up briefly at sunrise, to Roy moving around the room, getting ready to leave for work. The other side of her bed is still tucked neatly, and it looks like he had slept in the armchair.

“Try to get some paperwork done today, Colonel,” she says, turning toward him, half-getting up in bed. “I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”

His back is to her, and she sees him stiffen at the formality of the words. He turns to face her, and Riza smiles.

Roy visibly relaxes at the look on her face, and salutes her. “I’ll do my best, Lieutenant.”

He leaves, and Riza settles back into bed, feeling simultaneously melancholy and more at ease than she has in days.

#royai #royai fanfiction #royai fanfic #roy mustang x riza hawkeye #fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood #fma:b #roy mustang #riza hawkeye

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excellentabraham · 4 years

Text

Why East Asians Were Sporting Masks Long Before COVID-19

My folks told Maine it completely and totally was to stay myself et al safe, she told Abraham. I would see others wear masks more than that, especially throughout the winter seasons.

As the coronavirus, widespread disease’s toll rises. Here’s what Americans will learn from countries like China, Japan, and South Korea about the standard mask. COVID-19 growing up in South Korea, Jamie Cho knew from childhood. What if she got sick, she had to place a mask on, although it absolutely was simply a standard cold.

The masks weren’t simply a medical accent, she said. For many, they served a business partner beauty-related purpose. One thing a lady would possibly place on to hide a makeup-less face. Whereas running errands or a K-Pop star would possibly wear to avoid being noticed by fans in connect airdrome.

Cho clearly remembers that once her family emotional to the big apple. Her mother told her that she had to prevent sporting masks publicly. As a result of people would assume she was unwell or would check up on her funny.

She was afraid of Maine’s seen more foreign. Then I already was at the time as a young traveling worker, the school student the same. Because of that, I’ve never worn a mask during a Western country before COVID-19

Hiding up is use to East Asian people like Cho. however, others haven’t taken this way simply to the U.S. Centers for sickness management and Prevention’s recommendation to wear a facial covering. The rules have incited a nationwide fight concerning public health and civil liberties.

A few Americans won’t wear covers, asserting its in opposition to their individual flexibility. The foremost strident within the anti-mask movement have known as them “unconstitutional,” autocratic” and “muzzles.”

Meanwhile, in East Asian countries. The bulk of the general public tailor quickly to mask-wearing. One thing specialists believe has contributed to lower COVID-19 death rates.

Naturally, there’s additional to the story than masks. Compared to the West, East Asian countries tend to possess a lot of lower rates of fat. A number one risk issue for serious COVID-19 cases.

Preliminary studies have additionally instructed. That East Asians might have designed up associate immunity to the virus given. The history of coronaviruses rising in East Asia.

But in light-weight of overwhelming proof supporting the efficaciousness of facial coverings. It’s most likely honest to mention the masks helped, too.

Because of the custom of sporting masks here. It wasn’t necessary for the govt to mandate mask sporting for a protracted time. As a result of the general public had already wide adopted their use, same Ria Sinha. A senior analysis fellow in the middle for the Humanities and drugs at the University of the port. (Sinha is presently leading a COVID-19 archive project.)

Just as the anti-mask movement in America goes back to the 1918-19 contagion pandemic. (yep, there have been protests over government ordinances then, too) Thus will the East Asian inclination to wear a mask.

In those pandemic years, mask-wearing was wide promote in Western nations and solely then export to Japan.

It stayed in Japan, however it disappeared within the West, same Mitsutoshi Horii. A faculty member of social science at the University of Shumei in Japan. Who’s presently performing at its overseas field at poet faculty in European nation.

In Japan, then and currently, individuals square measure usually involved. With the transmission mechanism of the virus, thus individuals wear masks within the hope of reducing the chance of infection.

Years later, once the contagion immunizing agent had been develop. The Japanese government same it absolutely was additionally vital to induce the shot than to wear a mask; nevertheless, overenthusiastic usage continued within the island country.

In China, the employment of face masks against epidemics was the practice even earlier. In 1910 and 1911, voters were inspire to wear masks to combat the plague natural event in a geographic region. By the time the plague abated, over sixty, individuals had died. In modern northeast China, creating it one of the world’s largest epidemics at the time.

Still, masks helped the country prevent additional deaths.

Even as with COVID-19, lockdowns, and travel restrictions were enforce to lower the infection rate.

Mask-wearing became obligatory, too, same Christos Lynteris, a senior lecturer. Within the department of anthropology WHO studies epidemics at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland.

It was throughout that natural event that the mask was a tailor. For epidemic management functions and employed by doctors, nurses, health workers. And also the general public for the primary time, Lynteris told Abraham.

The creation of the counter plague cover was ascribe to Dr. Wu dialect Lien-Teh, a Cambridge-educated Chinese MD WHO light-emitting diode anti-plague operations on behalf of China within the region.

According to Lynteris, Wu’s masks were well-received internationally. The general public health initiative was coated by the press across the world. With pictures of mask-wearing plague fighters making a global sensation.

After the tip of that epidemic, Wu dialect continued. As China’s most senior medical scientist below the new republic, Lynteris same. He continued to develop the mask, that became an everyday epidemic management feature within the country over consequent 3 decades.

The mask itself became an emblem of medical contemporaneousness across East Asian countries, Lynteris same. Individuals don masks within the winter to shield themselves from the contagion. They slip one on within the spring to prevent pollinosis. The masks additionally offer protection from pollution and cut back the unfold of germs on jammed and poorly aerated subways.

There’s associate moral part, too. East Asians wear masks for his or her own health however chiefly out of respect for others.

Though the history of mask-wearing goes back a minimum of a century, consultants say the mask didn’t reach peak quality. In South Asian countries till the 2002-03 extreme sudden and serious lung-related disease widespread disease.

Extreme acute metabolism syndrome, additionally a coronavirus malady, lasted concerning six months. Because it unfolds to over countries in North America, South America, Europe, and Asia. Before it had been stop in July 2003.

SARS coagulated the standard mask as AN everyday staple, Sinha said. Once COVID-19 smitten, East Asians placed on a mask at their own volition.

The legacy of extreme intense breathing and lung-related sickness in 2003 brought about plentiful speedier take-up of cover wearing for private security. Once Coronavirus showed up, she said. It’s a sort of agreement folks respond by carrying masks.

As a group terribly early within the natural event. retailers were clean out, and masks were in brief offer. Queues to shop for masks were seen across Asia in the city, Asian country, and Japan, among others.

In city, wherever COVID-19 cases have remained low, by and enormous, masks area unit worn by nearly everybody. While not abundant government urging. In step with one study of one, participants, in March, ninety-nine reportable carrying face masks. Once exploit home up from sixty one within the 1st survey in Gregorian calendar month.

Before to COVID-19, if you didn’t use a mask publically areas. Whereas sick or throughout the peak of the contagious disease season.

You’d be at the receiving finish of over some dirty appearance. In step with Judy Yuen-man Siu, AN prof of social sciences at the city engineering school University. (Siu has watched and followed the utilization of mask-wearing. In the city within bad after-effects of the severe acute respiratory syndrome natural event.)

If you behave against the social norms in the city by failing to wear mask publically areas. You’d become a ‘deviant alternative,’ and therefore you would possibly receive dirty appearance from the general public, she said.

In a virulent disease, not carrying a mask in AN East country is seen.

As anti-social, unaccountable, and dangerous to oneself and to others, Lynteris aforesaid. In Japan, even their downy anti-coronavirus being, a cat named “Koronon, dons a mask.

Cover wearing may have flawlessly blended into the way of life. In East Asia, because a large portion of the nations have a collectivist bowed, Sinha said. Folks typically grade the cluster over the self. Swing on a face-covering once you’re sick or around vulnerable folks is an element and parcel of fine citizenship.

Western societies tend to be additional individualistic, stressing. The needs of the individual over the requirements of the cluster as an entire.

A mandate encroaches on my personal freedom; it’s my individual right to not wear one, AN anti-masker may say in response to the CDC’s public health recommendation.

While there’s actually diversity across East Asia relating. To however collectivist societies really area unit. The heritage of malady outbreaks and an additional civic-minded community is powerful,” Sinha aforesaid.

East Asian countries even have a bigger proportion of extended families. Than Western countries, which suggests folks area unit additional seemingly to adopt public health measures. If they comprehend it is for his or her own sensible, she added.

See More : Teachers Are Spending Their Own Money On School Supplies Due to COVID-19

The individual rights argument against masks features a long history.

Within the U.S. within the 1918 pandemic, there have been reports. From each town of mask slackers failing to adjust to the law throughout the pandemic, resulting in their arrests. In the city, the AN Anti-Mask League of 1919” was shape.

In 2020, the anti-mask sentiment is alive and well. Not in little half owing to mixed electronic communication on masks from officers. It wasn’t simply a provisioning challenge to secure enough masks; for months, scientists and doctors waffled concerning the utility of face coverings.

Many Western leaders ab initio side-eyed the mask gave the shortage of precedent on carrying them. Adopting masks would need a “big adjustment” in our country, Austria’s Chancellor Sebastian Kurz remarked.

In a Gregorian calendar month, since “masks area unit alien to our culture. President Trump finally slipped on a mask publically in July. When four months of resisting, however, he’s continue to voice his mask skepticism since.

Protests continue, however, six months into the pandemic, face masks area. The unit has seen because of the most powerful public health tool. The state has against the coronavirus, a minimum of till an immunizing agent is develop and cosmopolitan.

Government agency Director Henry Martyn Robert Redfield stressed that message whereas addressing U.S. lawmakers earlier on.

We have clear scientific proof they work, and that the area unit our greatest defense, Redfield aforesaid. I may even go up to now on say that this mask is additionally certain to defend. American state against COVID than after I take a COVID immunizing agent.

In alternative words, Americans may still get snug in masks. Since we’ll in all probability ought to wear them publically for the predictable future.

It might pay to appear on the and aspect concerning masks and take a page from East Asians, Horii said.

These times might encourage folks within the West to replicate upon their own norms and values, he said. Rather than asking why folks in the East Asia area unit carrying masks. We should always raise the folks within the West. Why they didn’t wear them till recently and why a number of them resist it. Japanese folks are doing it for a century!

Cho, the faculty student from Asian country, had stopped carrying masks since emigrating to the U.S. She’s over happy to wear one for as long as she has to currently.

She admits that her appearance at the anti-masker movement generally. And wonders why such a big amount of area unit wasting their energy on the difficulty.

Why protest over one thing that keeps yourself et al. safe? she aforesaid. Masks don’t seem to be political, and neither area unit the health and safety of others.

#Tagscovid-19 active cases in delhi covid-19 america covid-19 antibody test covid-19 ap covid-19 cases in india covid-19 delhi covid-19 india

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (27/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I’m the slightest bit overwhelmed by how kind a lot of you are and how many people have become invested in this story. It’s the coolest thing seeing the happiness it brings some of you, even if I am stressing you out right now. Whenever I get a message about how a story has made someone’s bad day better, I get a little smile on my face. You are all awesome ☺️

Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for being my beta! Don’t fret. She yelled at me a lot about this part of the story too, so it’s not just you guys and it does get better.

AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog@cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings

-/-

Emma has never once complained about having off from work before.

Not once.

She has four days off right now. It’s four days of no baseball and no responsibility, and she has been looking forward to it for months ever since she first saw the time off on the calendar and marked it in a huge red circle. There’s nothing quite like having the ability to sleep in, not brush your hair, and lounge around in pajamas all day as you watch professional athletes hit tennis balls back and forth at each other at one hundred miles per hour as they play the US Open.

But there’s a bit of a sting to it all when two tickets to the semi-finals tomorrow are saved in her phone, and she hasn’t spoken to the person who bought them for her in three days.

(They’re in the nosebleed section so no one would notice them, and Emma remembers laughing out loud when Killian showed her the seats because she has no idea how they would even see the ball.)

Okay, there’s more than a bit of a sting.

It fucking hurts.

There’s always been a reason why she didn’t make plans so far ahead of time, not ones that require monetary and emotional commitments from her, but she’s been breaking all of her rules over the past five and half months. All of them. She’s made plans to go to Portland, to go to a wedding, to go to this idiotic set of matches that she would actually really love to go to.

All of them with Killian.

Emma should have known better. She honestly should have. Every time she ever made plans with Neal or Walsh or any other man that she was dating, they always fell through. They never held up. Either the relationship would endend, or the guy would fade away at the last minute. It didn’t matter. Every time she got her hopes up, they fell back to the ground and were crushed under the weight of her own disappointment.

Neal was the definition of flaky. He was always making these big plans with big dreams and promising her so damn much before ripping the rug out from under her so quickly that she barely even had time to brace herself before she fell flat on her ass. And the really shitty thing is that she didn’t even realize how awful it was that he was doing that to her because that’s what people had been doing her entire life – foster parents, social workers, childhood friends, her birth parents. That little seed of hope would be planted, roots would start to grow, and then it’d all be torn out of the ground. She was in a relationship like that for years and then fell into the same exact trap two years later.

Why would Killian be any different?

(Of course he is different.)

A laugh escapes her lips at that, one she didn’t give permission to, and all it does is make Emma curl into her bed a little bit more, wrapping her arms around her pillow and yanking the blankets further up her body so that the outside world can’t get to her. It’s just Emma, her laptop, and a bag of salt and vinegar chips that are most likely going to break her tongue out.

As it should be.

This is not how her day was supposed to go.

Not at all.

Killian was supposed to come over after his morning training, and he was going to spend time with her and probably Ruby, debating television shows and movies and eating whatever takeout he decided to bring on his way here. But Killian isn’t here. She doesn’t even know where he is. Probably not training considering he’s out for the rest of the regular season.

It’s what he told her, but it’s also what she’s read in about fifteen different articles online.

And what she had to post on her Twitter account as part of her job. Life is funny that way. You think you can avoid your boyfriend and all information about him, but she can’t. It’s part of her freaking job.

She couldn’t have kept herself from reading the articles online if she’d tried.

(She didn’t.)

There’s a knock on her door, a sound that Emma has been ignoring for most of the past few days, but she didn’t turn the lock when she went to get her chips two hours ago, so Ruby easily opens the door and walks into her bedroom. She’s got her hair pulled back into a ponytail and is wearing leggings and a sports bra like she just went to the Pilates class that Emma skipped out on.

She shouldn’t have done that.

Fueling her emotions into that would probably have been a much healthier way to cope. No, it definitely would have been. Exercise is better than stuffing her mouth with junk food even if junk food feels so much better at first.

Shit. She’s pathetic. But honestly, she doesn’t even care.

“Hey,” Ruby says quietly as she shuts the door behind her. “How are you feeling?”

Emma doesn’t respond, just curls herself further into her pillow like the pathetic person she is as a tennis ball is thwacked across the court and bounces up into the bottom level of the stands. But Ruby, never one to be deterred by anything, walks across the room and settles down on the bed behind Emma, wrapping her arms around her stomach and pulling her closer while Ruby’s chin rests on her shoulder.

It’s the most considerate touch she’s felt in days, and it’s the only time that someone hasn’t shown her pity or tried to tell her that everything was going to be okay. After she left the hospital, leaving Killian behind with her mind reeling and falling down a hole with no escape, Emma immediately went to her apartment and changed into running clothes before running until her legs wouldn’t work anymore. It was fifteen miles, something she’s done before, something that’s not even her personal best, and she thought that she could keep going.

She had to keep going.

But the adrenaline died out on her, all of her anger and rage and, frankly, sadness dissipated into barely being able to breathe, and she’d swiped her metro card and walked through the gates to get on the train that would take her to David’s house because she needed him like she hadn’t needed him in years. David is always the reasonable one, is always the one who makes her see things that she can’t see, but he wasn’t there. It was only Leo and Mary Margaret, and as much as Emma loves Mary Margaret, she couldn’t understand why Emma was so hurt by Killian lying to her.

It’s not what the lie was, though that is a pretty big deal. It’s the fact that the lie happened.

Over and over again.

She gave him her heart in all of the shattered and glued back together pieces, and as careful as he is with it, he still managed to add a crack or two.

How could she have ever expected otherwise?

Why did she?

Why does she still want him to be the one to help her keep holding it together?

David had eventually come home and seen her talking to Mary Margaret, and somehow, he just knew that she needed him to hold her for a little while. He did, cupping the back of her head with his hand and not placating her by telling her that everything was okay or that she shouldn’t be angry or anything else that she wasn’t quite ready to hear yet.

There were a lot of things she wasn’t ready to hear that day.

“Do you want to go for a walk with me sometime today?” Ruby asks, and Emma breathes out on a sigh, her stomach swirling in a messy cloud of anxiousness over the fact that Ruby has finally decided that Emma has to talk. She’s been waiting for it. She’s also been expecting a much more abrasive conversation. “I know that your legs probably still feel like shit from that crazed run you went on, but I feel like a walk would be good. Fresh air, exercise, maybe I will even stop and buy two dozen donuts. You know, really splurge and keep them to ourselves and not let Graham have any.”

Emma chuckles, and this time she’s kind of glad for it. It’s not a big belly laugh, but it’s something.

Baby steps are better than nothing.

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a walk?

“Nope. It’s good to get our legs moving, work some of this laziness out of you. Plus, I fully plan on making us walk the full perimeter of Central Park, so we’ll have earned those donuts. If we haven’t died first because that’s a huge ass park.”

“You do realize that Bryant park is closer?”

“And that’s exactly why we’re not going there.” Ruby squeezes her again, pretty much hugging her, and it may actually make Emma’s heart swell. “C’mon, Ems. Indulge me for an afternoon, okay? It’s not like you to lay in bed like this. I don’t like it.”

It’s not. She’s already thought that. This isn’t her. She’s not the type of girl who lays around in bed because she’s upset that she and her boyfriend got into a fight, if that’s even what this can be called. There wasn’t exactly any fighting, even if her mind has managed to create the illusion that there was. Honestly, she barely let him get any words in besides his explanation of what happened. And she’s not the type of girl who cries and eats ice cream and wonders how life will ever go on.

There’s nothing wrong with doing that, but it’s not her.

And she hasn’t cried. That’s beside the point, though.

“It’s really comfortable in here, okay?”

“You’re moping.”

“Then let me mope.”

Ruby sighs and hugs her a little closer.

“Emma, I know that I might not seem like the most emotionally mature person at times, but I’ve been in a steady relationship for a long time. I know that things like this happen, and I know that after lying in bed for nearly three days now, you need to get your ass up. You’re not going to find any solutions at the bottom of that chip bag.”

“I hate Graham for helping you be so emotionally stable. You used to hate love.”

“It’s all the good fucking. I’m telling you. Knocked some sense right into me.”

Emma barks out a laugh and completely rolls over on her stomach, letting Ruby’s arms release her as she snorts into the pillow. “You are the worst,” she mumbles, her voice muffled by the material.

“I am the best.” There’s a slap against her ass that has Emma jumping and rolling over again so that she nearly knocks over her laptop. “Now, go brush your teeth, put on some deodorant, and change clothes so we can take over the city with our powerwalk like the rich old ladies we’ve always aspired to be.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

It’s an actual blazing inferno outside, the heat curling up from the concrete to practically burn through Emma’s sneakers, and it makes her really not want to be out on this walk. But she knows that the faster she walks, the faster she can go back home and retreat back to her room. All she really wants is to go back to her room.

And get under the shades of the trees in the park. September needs to end and allow October to roll in so that she won’t sweat every time she steps outside. This is ridiculous.

It’s probably all of the salt and vinegar leaving her pores. What a thought to have.

If only eating strawberries or kale or something was a good emotional comfort food.

It’s a little over a mile to the park, and as awful as the entrance is all full of tourists and street vendors and people trying to sell her a guide to the city like she doesn’t know it’s on a grid system, Emma is thankful just to have the slight breeze and be away from the masses of people. She won’t admit it, not out loud, but Ruby was right to get her to get up and get moving. When she’s lounging around, her mind wanders to things that it shouldn’t wander to, and at least now she’s able to put all of her focus on putting one foot in front of the other and watching all of the people around her.

Why pay for Broadway tickets when you can watch people in Central Park?

The air-conditioning. Yep. The air-conditioning.

They walk for an hour, just a casual stroll that Emma keeps thinking should be a run, but the heat of the day becomes too much for her, her heartbeat going wild, and as soon as she sees an unoccupied bench in the shade, she makes a run for it, leaving Ruby to catch up from behind. It’s a bit ridiculous, but this is a golden opportunity to allow herself to sit down and breathe without anyone bothering her since most people in the area are concentrated around the boathouse and not the little beaten path to the side of it.

“I hate summer,” Ruby groans when she reaches the bench. “It’s the worst. I don’t care that it’s when all of the good sports happen. It’s too damn hot.”

Emma bends down to rest her elbows on her knees and cradle her head in her palms. “It was your idea to come out here.”

“Yeah, well, you were depressing me.”

She doesn’t say anything back, taking a moment to breathe and stare down at the laces on her shoes. One of them is about to come untied, but she can’t bother to fix it. There’s no point if she plans on never moving from this spot. The sweat that’s trickling down her back is going to keep her glued here anyways.

How the hell did she run fifteen miles the other day? What kind of rage-fueled adrenaline was that?

“Killian lied to me about his shoulder.”

The words come out without her permission. She doesn’t even remember thinking them. Her mind was blank and then all of the sudden they were there, escaping from her tongue and her lips and becoming part of the air that’s surrounding she and Ruby.

Emma is still staring at the ground. Her hand has also unconsciously found the chain around her neck, the one with Killian’s mom ring that he gave her as a good luck charm. She hasn’t been able to take it off. She wanted to, wanted to take away that reminder of him, but she couldn’t do it.

Killian wanted her to have one of his most prized possessions, and as mad as she is at him right now, she can’t take it off. It means too much to her to have been given something like this.

“He lied to me,” she continues, taking a deep breath, though she’s not sure if it’s from the exercise or the emotions running a race in her mind and wearing down her nerves. “And I get it. He was scared. He – ”

“He didn’t want you to think less of him for being broken.”

“How do you know that?”

“Mary Margaret told me. You know she can’t keep a secret.”

Emma chuckles, but it’s a weak one, before lifting her head back up so that all of her blood can return to its rightful place. She was starting to get worried it wouldn’t. All she can really focus on is how cool the metal of the ring is against her stomach.

“Unlike you have apparently become, I am not the best with my emotions,” Emma continues. All of the words she’s been holding up are bubbling up to the surface and ready to spill over and run rampant. “I’m pretty shitty with them, but Killian made me feel comfortable, you know? When we’re together, I do pretty okay sharing all of the broken parts of me. He knows a lot of stuff that not even you know, and I thought we were in the kind of relationship where we trusted each other enough to share the brokenness. And trust me, we have a lot of it. We’ve had…we’ve had pretty shitty lives at some points, and I am so mad at him for repeatedly not telling me that he was hurt and for not being smart enough to stop playing and get some help. It’s not that big of an injury, but it could have been. He loves that stupid game, and he’s going to lose it if he keeps doing things like this.”

Ruby reaches down and grabs Emma’s hand and wraps her fingers around her palm and squeezes so that Emma has to look up at the sky to stop the tears from finally falling. This is dumb. This is all so dumb, and every bit of it could have been avoided.

“I think though,” Emma continues, still blinking away the tears, “past the lying and this gut-wrenching fear that he’s going to lie to me about other things too, I’m mostly hurt that he didn’t feel comfortable talking to me. I love him so much, Rubes. He probably has no idea how much I love him because I barely know how to express it, and, but I don’t know how to fully trust him if this is going to be a pattern.”

Ruby’s sighs, and Emma swears that she feels it in her own bones. Her heartrate has calmed down, something next to normal, and she no longer feels like she’s going to throw up. She was kind of feeling like that for a little while, and the guy sitting in the grass fifteen feet away from them reading a book in peace probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

“You’ve got to talk to him.”

“I don’t – ”

“You don’t want to right now,” Ruby finishes for her, and Emma twists her head to the side to look over at the lake instead of at Ruby. “I know. I got that. You have every right to be pissed off at him. You have every right to kick and scream and feel anger so deep in your belly that it aches when you breathe. It doesn’t matter what he lied to you about. If it hurt you, it hurt you. Case closed.”

“I know but – ”

“Nope, nope, you’re going to let me finish. I am on a roll, and you’re going to crush my momentum.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Ruby squeezes her hand again before letting go. “Killian should not have lied to you. That’s just…I know we all tell little white lies, but this is obviously different. He shouldn’t have lied to you or to anyone. He should have trusted the people who he loves with the things he’s struggling with, but I don’t think this was about him not trusting you. He didn’t tell his family about any of it either.”

“They knew about the accident.”

“To be fair, Liam was there, and I think there’s no way Elsa couldn’t find out.”

“Semantics.”

“Very important ones,” Ruby points out. “I don’t – I’m not trying to tell you how to feel. I’m just saying that Killian didn’t do this out of malicious intent. He’s not Walsh, and he’s certainly not Neal. He is not spending his time trying to bring you down because he can’t handle being with a successful woman. I honestly think he’s scared of losing you and of losing the game, and that can make people do things that they wouldn’t usually do. You may not realize it, but I think you have become just as important to Killian as baseball is – if not more so. I know all about that ring you keep messing with and how big of a deal it is. Honey, he wouldn’t have given that to you if he didn’t love you. I’m not saying that fixes everything because it doesn’t. You have to talk to him and let yourself trust him if you think he’s worth trusting.”

Ruby echoes the words Killian said to her in Elsa’s office, the words that she repeated to Mary Margaret when she was trying to explain what was going on. They’re right. They’re all right, and she hates it. She doesn’t even know why. She should be thrilled that everyone seems to think that Killian didn’t set out to hurt her.

She thinks that too.

But Ruby is right in the fact that he did hurt her and right in the fact that she should be allowed to feel how she feels. How could she not with everything that’s happened to her in her life?

But she’s not thrilled.

And it’s dumb. Really, really dumb. Because she should want to get up from this bench and run to Killian’s apartment. It’s not far, maybe another mile walk, but she has absolutely emotionally exhausted herself to the point that talking about this more would be too much for her.

Talking everything out is still new to her, and when the stakes are this high, that pestering feeling that it’s all going to go wrong is continually building. Because what if Killian realizes that she’s more broken than he thinks too she is, and it’s all too much to deal with? Their relationship seems so simple on the surface and yet underneath it all…

Oh fuck.

Emma loves Killian so damn much, more than anything as he would say, but being together has never been simple. It’s always been a series of guesses and choices and an underlying hope that things would work out. She allowed herself to have that hope from the beginning, when she barely knew anything about him and when he’d fucked up with her already, and she should allow herself to have that same faith now that she genuinely knows so much of what makes up the ever-evolving person who is Killian Jones.

Tomorrow. She’ll talk to him tomorrow. Her stomach is still in too many knots for her to even think about seeing his face today and seeing the smile that always makes everything inside of her feel like it is floating on cloud nine.

Tomorrow. It has to be tomorrow because then she’s got to leave for Boston and Detroit, and she’s not waiting a week.

And she almost desperately needs to know how he’s doing. He’s got to be hurting, and she knows that she added to that.

“Can we go get those donuts now, Rubes?”

“Absolutely.”

The walk home seems swifter than the walk there, and it’s likely because Emma isn’t weighed down by the heaviness of a lot of things that are on her heart. Or maybe it’s because she does have donuts to look forward to. Today is going to be her last day of self-indulgence where she allows herself to mope and eat like all of the junk food in the world is going to disappear tomorrow. Because tomorrow she’s going to start eating actually balanced meals with things like vitamins and nutrients – most of the time – and she’ll hopefully stop feeling so sorry for herself.

That’s a bit of a gamble.

Ruby still makes a point of distracting her for the afternoon, obviously sensing that Emma is two seconds away from running away to her room and never emerging again, and while she contemplates that a few times throughout the day, especially when Graham comes home and kisses Ruby hello, she doesn’t.

In fact, she’s the last one awake and the only one to stay out in the living room. The only light that’s on comes from the TV, a tennis match still going on late in the night, and maybe it’s the lack of sleep she’s gotten or maybe it’s that feeling that happens when you’re alone at night and your mind starts playing tricks on you, but something gives her the courage to pull out her phone and text the person she’s been thinking about all day.

Emma: How’s your arm?

The bubble pops up immediately.

Killian: It hurts, mostly in the mornings, but not too bad. Lots of Ibuprofen and ice.

Emma: That’s good.

Emma: Not that it hurts. That it’s not too bad.

Killian: Yeah, I’m glad it’s not as bad as it has been.

Her heart may actually break a bit more at the thought of him being hurt all of this time. She’s been so mad at him, so frustrated with him for not sharing it with her, and she’s barely had any time to think about all of the pain that he’s been going through. Shitty move on her part.

It’s one thing to get injured and still be able to go about your daily life. It’s another when your livelihood depends on your body.

Killian: You should still use the tickets tomorrow. Take Ruby or David. I can get you an upgrade to sit closer since I’m not going with you now.

I don’t want to use them with anyone but you, she types, a little pathetically.

She doesn’t actually send that message. She can’t muster up the courage no matter how much truth is in the statement. Wine or whiskey or, hell, tequila are really tempting at this point to make herself feel a little less – upset, conflicted, hopeful even. But drowning sorrows in alcohol is no way to solve a problem, even if she’s done it before. It’ll only make her feel worse.

Emma: Can we talk tomorrow?

That text is riskier, means more, and is far scarier, and yet it’s the one she sends.

Killian: I’d like that.

Emma: Me too.

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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sophcaro · 5 years

Text

Back in Time | WMatsui - Chapter 12

It was almost 7 p.m. when Rena arrived home, a heavy sigh of exhaustion escaping her lips as she passed the front door. Removing her raincoat and boots, she rubbed her forehead at her headache, placing her wet umbrella in the basket. Today, and following months of intense negotiations, she had at last signed an important contract with the CEO of a leading specialty pharmaceutical German company. The business woman was pleased and proud to have reached such a great deal, the 5-year contract partnership opening their products to the European market.

This morning, she had arrived at the office a little before 7. Along with the other members of her company working on this negotiation, they had revised in detail all the terms of the contract, while waiting for the arrival of their foreign counterparts. Rena wished to put all chances on her side, refusing to let pass such an incredible opportunity. After a 4-hour meeting with the German representatives, their brand-new collaboration had been formally sealed with a long-awaited signature.

Rena progressed forward in the hallway, feeling her own strengths leaving her. Outside, the wind and rain were fierce, announcing an imminent tempest, water droplets hitting the house windows with a deafening noise. After such a long tiring and stressful day, Rena had one desire: to have a light, quick dinner and join her bed.

Rena entered the living room and dropped her briefcase on a chair, startled when she noticed the obscurity greeting her and the unusual quietness of the house. Her gaze drifted to the top of the staircase, wondering why she couldn’t hear Natsuki playing, then noticed their domestic robot standing by the side of the living room’s television. That definitely piqued her curiosity. “Alfred? Why are you not playing with Natsuki?”

When the robot didn’t react, Rena blinked in confusion. “Alfred, did you hear me?”

His large blue eyes lightened at last, and the robot stepped forward; acknowledging her presence. “M-Mistress? Y-You c-called m-me?”

“Yes. I asked you why you were not upstairs with Natsuki,” Rena repeated, destabilized by the slight jerks in his metallic voice.

Rena was taken aback by his lengthy response time.

“That’s because little Mistress is upset that Mistress Jurina didn’t come to pick her up after school. She refuses to let me enter her room.”

“What do you mean, she didn’t pick her up? Weren’t they supposed to go to the zoo today?” Rena asked, feeling a tinge of doubt. “Show me the calendar.”

The robot projected an image on the wall, blurry and unreadable at first, which caused Rena to gaze back at the robot in curiosity, before it adjusted and got clearer, revealing the family’s monthly schedule. Rena’s confusion arose; the data displayed confirmed what she thought. Jurina was indeed supposed to leave work earlier today to spend quality time with their daughter.

“Did Jurina warn you about any change of plans?” Rena asked, seeing the robot nodding negatively in response. She stood in the living room for a moment, analyzing the situation. Alright; that was strange.

Rena retrieved her Bluetooth earpiece from her vest pocket, and placed it inside her ear. “Call Jurina.”

Calling Jurina. The device responded to the command, dialing. Rena waited, hearing the call ending after one ringing, and falling on Jurina’s voicemail. Rena extracted the earpiece, checking it for any potential malfunction, then put it back inside her ear when nothing appeared out of the ordinary. “Call Jurina.” She repeated, the robotic voice recognizing the command and dialing the requested number. A couple of seconds later, she reached the same result.

Straight to voicemail.

Rena removed the communication device, and faced Alfred’s expectant look. “Something unexpected must have come up at work.” She tried to keep her voice light and unconcerned, but knew she’d failed when she saw Alfred frowning at her.

“Mistress Jurina always calls when she’s delayed at work,” the robot answered, visibly not convinced by the explanation.

Rena didn’t say anything, knowing he was right. It wasn’t like Jurina to not warn them if she was going to be late, even less not to respect a promise made to her daughter. Natsuki was Jurina’s little sunshine. She spoiled their daughter like no one else, always ready to please her and give in to all of her whims. For nothing in the world, would she do anything to tarnish Natsuki’s happiness.

Rena kneeled in front of the robot, catching his hand. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll have news from her very soon.”

They held one another’s gaze, the mechanical fingers closing around hers. Rena’s mouth broadened into a smile at the glimmer of hope shining in his blue eyes, amazed by how expressive the humanoid robot could prove to be. Some days, it was so easy to forget that he was a machine, by the genuine, great affection he harbored for the three members of the family. But Rena knew his unfailing loyalty would always go to one member above all. It was the person his eyes had laid on for the very first time, when he got switched on almost a decade ago. It was the one who had held his hand, and given him a unique name, and to whom he had vowed to obey and serve his whole life.

His precious Mistress Jurina.

“I’ll go and see Natsuki.” Rena gently slipped her hand away from his grasp, receiving a weird crackling sound of agreement in response. The latter made Rena pause, asking herself if something couldn’t possibly wrong with the robot, making a mental note to herself to mention it to Jurina later.

Rena climbed the stairs leading towards the first floor, fearing nothing she would say would be sufficient to quell their daughter’s disappointment. Approaching Natsuki’s bedroom, she distinguished the light filtering from underneath the door, but the deadly silence reaching her did not augur anything well about her daughter’s mood.

She opened Natsuki’s door, seeing an instant look of relief greeting her, only for it to transform into a blatant disappointment at her sight. Rena wasn’t offended by her reaction; she knew it wasn’t her that their daughter longed to see the most right now. Rena stood at the entrance of the room, taking a moment to study the scene. Natsuki was sitting on the floor, head low, her back leaning carelessly against the side of the bed. Duran, her all-time favorite stuffed toy, wasn’t in her arms but laying on the pillow, while her toy box remained untouched in front of her.

“Hi honey. Mommy is home. What are you doing?” Rena leaned down, dropping a tender kiss on the top of her head. When her question was met with silence, she turned to the stuffed toy left on the pillow. “I’m sure Duran must be feeling alone up there.” She reached out for the stuffed dog and tried to place it inside Natsuki’s arms, but her daughter refused it and faced the other way.

“I don’t want Duran.”

Rena took a seat by her side, and slowly wrapped her arms around her waist. “I know you’re upset Mama didn’t come to pick you up after school,” she carefully said, seeing how her daughter refused to meet her gaze.

“She promised!”

The dramatic outburst startled her, and she met Natsuki’s angry look. “I’m sorry she couldn’t come. I know you were looking for it.” She caressed the length of her back in a soft, soothing gesture. “I wish I knew what happened, but I can only imagine that she got delayed at work. Maybe someone requested her presence and attention, and she couldn’t free herself as early as she wished.”

“Someone more important than Natsuki?” Rena witnessed her daughter’s anger progressively changing into a mixture of sadness and incomprehension.

“No, no one is more important than you.” Rena gathered her into her arms. “Don’t ever think that.” When she heard the soft sniffing against her neck, she strengthened her hold. “Your mama loves you more than anyone in this world.” Rena gently pulled away, wiping away the budding tears forming in Natsuki’s glistening eyes. “She would never do anything to make you sad, and I know she will make it up for it.”

Rena smiled at her confidently, and drew her back into a long, comforting hug. After a while, she heard the crying diminishing and she approached Duran closer to the little girl, relieved when it wasn’t rejected. “Why don’t I ask Alfred to come and play with you?” Rena offered, playfully pulling onto the dog’s tail, pretending to want to steal it from her. “What do you think? There’s still time before dinner.” When Natsuki pulled the stuffed toy into her arms in a possessive gesture, and her gaze lingered on the untouched toy box, Rena hid a smile, sensing her daughter’s mood had considerably improved.

“Yes, I’ll call Alfred.” Rena placed a kiss on her cheek.

**********

Rena spent the following half-hour finishing some work, reassured by the high level of noise and laughter coming from upstairs. Natsuki seemed to have swapped back to her usual cheerfulness in Alfred’s presence, and it never ceased to amaze her how fast children were capable of going from one mood to the next. On occasions, Rena would look out the window, wondering what could be delaying her wife so much, and hoping she wouldn’t forget to take an umbrella to protect herself from the pouring rain.

She had almost reached the bottom of the financial report she was reading, when a sudden scream reached her.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

At the sound of her daughter’s alarmed voice, Rena raised her head from the digital tablet and left it aside on the table, standing up from the chair to join her upstairs. The instant she opened the bedroom door, she faced Natsuki’s frightened look.

“Mommy! Alfred isn’t speaking anymore!”

Rena glanced down at the humanoid robot standing by her daughter’s side, his eyes extinguished and void of their familiar blue glowing light. As she studied further her daughter’s small companion, she noted something else: the light located on the right side of his neck had turned red. “Hum, I see. Maybe he simply needs to recharge.”

Rena kneeled and lifted the robot, carrying him out of the bedroom and downstairs, closely followed by her daughter’s hurried steps. Once in the living room, she placed the domestic robot on the recharging station. She found it a bit odd. Such an incident had never happened. When his batteries were low, the robot would systematically take the direction of the recharging station on his own.

She waited for the result, Natsuki burning with anticipation beside her with Duran secured in her arms, yet was surprised when the light didn’t turn orange as usual when the robot was on charge. Rena removed Alfred from the recharging station, believing in a temporary connection problem, then put it back in place. She repeated the process a few more times, but despite her best efforts, the light remained desperately red. “I’m not sure what the problem is. Mama will check it when she gets home, alright?”

“W-What if Alfred never speaks again? What if I can’t play with him anymore?” Natsuki stammered, petrified.

“Of course, you’ll play with him again,” Rena said reassuringly, softly caressing her shoulder. “Mama often improves Alfred so he can be more intelligent and spend more time with Natsuki every day. Alfred is getting old now. He probably needs more time to rest, that’s all. Don’t worry about it.”

Rena gave her a smile, and saw her relax slightly. “Why don’t you go back and play in your room? I’ll call you when it’s dinner time.”

Natsuki looked hesitant. “I don’t want to. Can I wait for mama with you?”

“Of course.” Rena embraced her, kissing her temple. “I still have a bit of work to do. Why don’t you watch some TV in the meantime?”

Natsuki beamed in reaction, and Rena watched her retreating form as she walked away and jumped on the sofa, immerging herself in a cartoon. Rena returned to her work, yet quickly lingered back on her daughter. Two unhappy events in the same day were definitely too much to handle for such a young girl, but Rena was convinced everything would go back to normal once Jurina would return.

**********

Rena stared up at the digital clock on the wall: 8 p.m. Usually, Alfred was the one to remind her of the time when she let herself get carried away by work, but the daily routine had been abruptly disrupted. Rena turned off the digital tablet and slipped it in her briefcase, beginning to feel concerned by Jurina’s absence. Seizing the Bluetooth device from the table and, noting she hadn’t received any message from her, she decided to give her wife another call. Her new attempt was met with the same result, and she fell onto the voicemail.

Powerless, she darted a look towards the living room; Natsuki’s attention was still entirely monopolized by the cartoon playing on the television. “Honey, it’s 8 p.m. Can you put the table on?”

Natsuki glanced back in her direction; her eyebrows arched in surprise. “We’re not waiting for mama?”

“I don’t know when mama is coming home, and it’s already late. So it’s best if we start eating without her,” Rena gently explained.

Natsuki switched the television off and slowly climbed off the sofa, Rena not missing the slight dejected look on her face as she entered the kitchen. A silence fell as they ate dinner, none of them having the desire to respect this usual time for convivial sharing. Rena could see that Natsuki was feeling down, but she was having difficulty finding the adequate words to cheer her up, equally disturbed by the situation. The reasonable part of her brain was telling her that there had to be a simple, logical explanation for Jurina’s tardiness, but the lack of news and contact from her struck her as odd and unsettling.

The sound of the front door ringing extracted both family members out of their thoughts, a sudden cry of joy escaping Natsuki’s lips as pleasure plastered her features. For a split moment, Rena did share her enthusiasm, also believing the missing member of the family was finally home, and she stood up from the table. However, her smile progressively faded away as she entered the hallway, and realized something didn’t make sense. Jurina would never ring to enter her own house.

When she opened the front door, she was faced with two police agents, their long black uniforms drenched from the rain, standing on her doorstep. “Good evening, Matsui-san. I’m agent Kimura,” said the first male officer, then motioned the female agent by his side. “And this is agent Inoue.” He removed his cap, politely bowing to her. “We apologize for disturbing you at such a late time of the day. May we come in?”

“O-Of course.” Rena stepped aside, letting them in, noticing the young female agent’s attention drawn to Natsuki who had joined her side.

“Hello, what’s your name?” The female agent asked with a gentle smile, and leaned down to her height.

“M-My name is Natsuki.” Came the shy reply.

“Hello, Natsuki. I’m Inoue-san. Your mommy needs to have a talk with my partner. Would you mind showing me your bedroom?” She asked, then glanced up to the head of the family. “That would be alright with you if I stayed a bit with her?”

Rena found herself momentarily at a loss for words by the strange request, but nodded in agreement, giving Natsuki an encouraging light tap on the back when she saw her eyes flickering hesitantly between the police agent and her. “It’s alright, honey. Go play in your room with the lady. I’ll call you when our conversation is over.”

Rena watched them leaving and climbing up the stairs - listening as Natsuki was prompt to present with enthusiasm her favorite stuffed toy to the female police officer – then was distracted by a male voice addressing her. “Matsui-san, are there other people present in the house?”

“No, it’s only me and my daughter,” Rena calmly answered. “My wife should be on her way from work. May I know what this is about?”

“Do you mind if we take a seat?” He bowed and said, indicating the direction of the living room.

Rena found her interlocutor a bit stiff, but chose to ignore it, nodding in agreement. She led the way, listening to the heavy steps of the male officer’s boots behind her, until she stopped in front of the table and offered him a seat. Once he had settled down, she mimicked his gesture and pulled a chair. The silence that followed between them felt almost heavy, Rena not missing the way the male police officer was nervously avoiding her gaze while he placed his cap down on the table.

Rena was about to repeat her unanswered question, when the new visitor faced her back and opened his mouth.

“I’m afraid I have some very bad news to tell you. Your wife was involved in a car accident. According to initial findings, the driver fell asleep, and the car’s radar system didn’t detect in time your wife’s presence on the crosswalk.”

Rena’s heart raced; her whole body stiffened. “A car accident? How is she? Is she at the hospital?”

The male police officer shifted uneasily in his seat. “The damage was too severe. By the time the ambulance arrived on the scene, it was already too late.”

“I don’t understand. W-Where is she?” Rena’s voice quivered; she felt a tightness in her throat. “Is she at the hospital? Is it serious? When can I see her?”

“You wife didn’t survive,” the male agent said, his voice filled with pain and empathy. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Rena felt dizzy and lightheaded. “No, it’s not… it’s not possible. It has to be a mistake. You must have the wrong person.”

“I’m afraid there’s no mistake. We found your wife’s ID card in her vest pocket. I know my words will never be enough to alleviate your pain, but the paramedics said she died instantly. She didn’t suffer.”

Rena vaguely heard the officer’s words, but barely understood them. Her headache became suddenly acute. A nausea seized her, and she had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting. The room seemed to swell around her; she could hardly breathe. The last thing she distinguished was the police officer’s alarmed voice calling her name, before blackness swept over her and she faded into unconsciousness.

#wmatsui #matsui jurina #matsui rena #wmatsui fanfic #SKE48 #AKB48 #back in time #chapter 12

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