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hotchnisslvr · 5 days

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how do we carry on?

pairing: hotch x bau!reader

rating: m

word count: 4.8k

genre: angst, hurt no comfort

summary: emily was your confidant, your best friend. when she dies at the hands of ian doyle, you find comfort in your boyfriend, aaron. when you find out that she’s alive and that hotch had known all along, your world falls out from under you. can you and hotch come back from the decision he made for the good of the team?

*if this gains enough traction i might follow up with a pt.2 to give it a happy ending*

The criss-crossed lines of the tile floor blur together as you stare blankly between your feet. The tops of your thighs have gone numb from digging your elbows into them, using your cradled hands as a pillow for your forehead. You couldn’t go home, not until you knew.

Rossi had offered to go on a walk and get a coffee, but shitty lukewarm hospital coffee was the last thing you needed. You hadn’t meant to write him off, you just couldn’t justify doing anything to distract from the fact that she was on that operating table, that Emily’s life was literally hanging in the balance.

The rest of the team was no better off than you are right now. Penelope’s knitting needles clack relentlessly, the scarf inside of her purse growing as her hands keep busy so her mind doesn’t focus on how hard she’s trying not to cry. The last time you’d poked your head up, Derek hadn’t moved from the waiting room windowsill where he’d been standing still as a statue staring out at the cityscape. If Spencer didn’t stop shaking his leg, you feared he would wear a hole straight through the tile. JJ exits the waiting room as often as she returns, her liaising days quickly coming back, making her their only link to the operating room. Hotch’s behavior is no different. His cell rings every ten to fifteen minutes, no doubt the Bureau wanting to know how the hell this could happen. It’s the only sign that time is actually passing and you’re forced to accept that you’re not stuck in some fucked up purgatory-esque hellscape where time stands still, torturing you as your dear friend’s life teeters between worlds.

What you wanted, what you needed was for him to hold you; to place a kiss against your temple and tell you that everything would be alright. It had to be alright.

He couldn’t show favor to you though, not now. The team didn’t know about your relationship with him, though you believe a few have their suspicions. You’re all too observant for your own good. Not much goes unnoticed by anyone. So when JJ walks back into the waiting room, everyone shifts toward her to try and get a glimpse into her facial expression and body language for any sign of an update regarding Emily’s condition.

Instantly, you know something is wrong. JJ’s eyes flit from one person to the next, not lingering very long on anyone. Spencer is the first to stand and you follow suit. You close in, forming a small half circle. Behind JJ, Hotch stands in the doorway, brow straight as he folds his arms across his chest.

“JJ?” Her name is an anxious plea on Penelope’s lips.

JJ’s eyes drop to the floor as she presses her lips together. She takes a deep breath and lifts her eyes, yours the ones they land on as she speaks. “She never made it off the table.”

A choked sob echoes from Garcia as she falls into Derek’s arms, his features fixed as he stares ahead though his knuckles flush white as he holds tightly onto Penelope. Rossi pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as he mutters something to himself; a prayer, maybe. Spencer envelopes JJ in a desperate embrace, as if clinging to her will somehow make her words any less true. Afterall, how can they be? Emily can’t go down, not like this; not after all she’s survived.

Someone says your name. Your brow dips, but you don’t respond. You need to see Emily. Your feet move of their own accord, guiding you through the waiting room. Someone grabs your arm and you tug away from their grasp, set on pushing onward and finding the OR.

Someone repeats your name, and you can’t help but latch on to the deep tenor that belongs to Hotch. You halt in your tracks and close your eyes, tears leaking over your eyelids and down your cheeks.

“I need to talk to Emily,” you say, your voice small.

The way Hotch says your name is laced with pity and you hate the way it sounds on his tongue. He pulls gently on your arm in an attempt to reel you into him, but you resist. You bite your lip to still its trembling. Yanking your arm free, you press on into the hallway and stumble toward the double doors that read in bold letters: Authorized Personnel Only. Fuck that. You’ve got a badge, that’s authority enough. Before you can push through, firm hands twist around your arms.

You push back, but their grip tightens. “Stop,” Hotch urges authoritatively. You turn into him and pound your fist against his chest, a sob cracking free from your mouth. “She’s not gone,” you cry. “She’s not gone. She’s not—” Your legs tremble with the wave of grief that crashes over you and you can’t hold your weight as it does so. Falling to your knees, Hotch reacts. His arms fold around your waist, catching you as you collapse into the wide plane of his chest. Your ribs ache as your lungs inflate with each rapid, sobbing breath. Your vision turns fuzzy at the edges as you try and fail to slow your breathing. It feels like you’re dying as the waves of grief assail you over and over again, battering you, body and mind, in an unrelenting tumultuous current of sorrow and pain as the wicked reality sets in. Emily is dead. You barely feel Hotch’s hand in your hair cradling you against him. As he murmurs apologies and sympathies in your ear, you don’t see the weighted look he exchanges with JJ.

•

The funeral comes and goes. The day is too beautiful for Emily not to be there to see it. You sit on the porch at Hotch’s house, breathing in and out as you watch the daffodils dance in the afternoon breeze. You smooth the fabric of your dress down over your knees, the satin wrinkled from the way you clenched it during the service.

Your phone buzzes in your purse. The number of messages and phone calls you’d ignored continues to rise, but you can’t bring yourself to express any gratitude for their condolences. You can’t bring yourself to feel anything except the crushing weight of grief.

You picture Emily sitting beside you on the wooden porch swing. Last Summer, you’d sat here with her as the team gathered for a Fourth of July Barbecue. Jack had made invitations and delivered them to the team at the office. He’d been so excited and so were you. It was around then that you and Hotch had begun to toe the line between colleagues and something more; a morning coffee dropped off at your desk here, an extra visit to his office there. You’d sat here with Emily watching as Rossi backseat barbecued Hotch on the grill. She’d caught you smiling at him alongside the fondness in your gaze. She’d clocked you from a mile away.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad.” Her laugh had tinkled from lips, ringing like a morning bell.

“What are you talking about?” you’d asked, trying and failing to school your features into a mask of indifference.

“I’ll tell ya, it’s a big swing, but if you hit it, that’s a home run for sure.”

You’d nearly choked on your lemonade, coughing and gasping; drawing the attention of the others.

“Wrong pipe!” Emily had called while pointing at you and clapping a hand against your back. “She’s good!” In a low voice she’d added, “Though I’m sure with him, it’d be just the right pipe.”

You’d elbowed her in the ribs and bust out laughing together. For the longest time after that, she’d been the only person that you’d confided in about your burgeoning feelings and relationship with Aaron. Through that, she’d quickly become your closest friend on the team.

A couple of kids shout at one another, laughing, as they ride past the house on their bicycles; shattering the memory. You dip into your purse and withdraw your phone, pressing a button and powering it down. The screen door creaks on its hinges and Hotch steps down onto the porch, the planks shifting beneath his weight. He sits beside you and offers you a mug. The scent of coffee reaches your nose and you accept it, thanking him quietly. Aaron had taken his suit jacket off and loosened his tie. He stretches an arm around your shoulder and draws closer to you. He kisses the side of your face and stares out at the yard.

“It was a beautiful service,” he offers.

“Aaron, don’t.” You close your eyes and take a breath. You hold the coffee with both hands, rubbing your thumbs up and down the warm ceramic. “Please don’t make small talk with me about this like it’s all so fucking normal.”

He sighs and apologizes. “I just wish I could make all of your hurt go away.”

A shudder runs through you and you nestle in closer to him, taking a sip of your coffee as you do so. “I don’t think it’ll ever go away.”

•

Her brown eyes stare back at you, though the photo paper could never capture the light that flared within them when she was alive. Of all the faces you could have seen up on this wall, you’d never anticipated hers being one of them.

Every day you stop by her portrait on the wall of fallen heroes. People talk about her less and less around the office. The team doesn’t stop, though your conversations are stilted and often end in awkward silences; no one really knowing how to carry on once the conversation slows to a natural end. You speak often with Spencer about the ways in which you’ve been grieving, the sleepless nights and early mornings. Derek is reserved. He’s angry above anything else. He feels betrayed by Emily and a part of you understands that. She’d not told any of you after all. You’d be remiss if you’d not also spent some of your time grieving in anger. Of all the times you’d stayed late after work, gotten together to hang out on weekends, or gone out for drinks, she had never indicated anything was wrong. You had told her everything, confided every one of your fears and hopes into her and you’d thought that the street had been going both ways. God, you’d never been so wrong.

“Conference room in fifteen,” Aaron says as he walks past you, hand grazing your back as he does so.

You smile tightly and nod, glancing once more at Emily’s photo before making your way to your desk in the bullpen, ignoring the fact hers still sits empty and unoccupied beside yours. How has it been three months already?

•

“Emily!”

Your eyes dart around the room frantically searching as your heart thunders in your ears. You feel the organ pounding against your ribcage, threatening to break free of it. It only takes a second for you to realize it had been a dream.

Aaron rolls over and sits up, threading an arm around your back and rubbing your hip with his fingers. “Another nightmare?” he asks, words tinged with sleepiness.

You nod, yawning as you rub your eyes. The dreams are further apart, but at least every other week her face haunts your subconscious. You can’t help but wonder if it’s some sort of self-punishment as life goes on and the days get easier.

In reality, you don’t know if it’s easier or if you’ve just forced yourself to become numb to it all, compartmentalizing the pain of losing your best friend because if you didn’t you don’t think you’d be able to leave the house and do what you do day after day.

“Are the appointments with the therapist helping?” he asks.

Another question you don’t know the answer to. On some level, yes. Talking to someone who knows nothing about you or her or anyone else on the team is good. You don’t have to walk on eggshells, worried you're going to dig open a wound the others are equally fighting to heal by talking about her or how much you miss her or wish she was here. On another level, you don’t open up fully to the doctor. There are some layers of this injury you don’t want to see heal and scar over. If you do that, it’s like you’re telling Emily that you’re over her death, as if it’s something as easy as that, something you just get over. No, some things need to stay fresh, to serve as a reminder that Ian Doyle is still out there. The man who took your best friend away from you and your BAU family is breathing and she’s not. You clench your fists, the sheets balling up in your hands as your resentment burns deep inside you. Yes, that’s it, the idea of him walking around thinking he’s gotten away with this is enough to stoke the flames simmering deep inside you.

You take a deep breath, mentally imagining the flames subsiding, and they do. They dial down, but they don’t disappear. You glance down at Aaron, who snores softly beside you. His fingers still curl around your hip and a faint smile graces your lips. He tries, you know he does, but this is exhausting for everyone. He bears the brunt of it at the office. He fought to be the one to meet with the team and conduct the grief interviews, not wanting a stranger to come in and sift through your friends’ and colleagues’ pain over what happened. God knows how much bureaucratic red tape he had gotten tangled in right after the fact, the higher ups demanding how such a blunder could occur right under their noses. Aaron had put out the fires though, as he always did. Reaching around his back, you withdraw his hand from your hip and tuck it by his side, not before pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

You glance at the clock before lying back down. 4:15AM blinks back at you on the digital clock face. In forty five minutes the alarm will go off and it’ll be another day at the office. Settling down into the pillows, you press your back into Aaron’s body, yours molding against the planes of his as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His arms slinks around your waist and pulls you in as if you can get any closer than you already are. He tucks his chin over your shoulder and his lips brush against your jawline.

“I love you,” he whispers and you relax into the safety of his embrace.

“I love you, too, Aaron.”

•

Nights are hard when Aaron is gone. Pakistan is nine hours ahead and all Hotch has to communicate with anyone is a satellite phone, the number for which you don’t have access to. Whenever Hotch calls, the caller ID flashes the word ‘Unknown’ across your screen. There have been several times you’ve missed him due to being asleep or at work. Each call missed feels like being sucker punched. Every time you talk, a part of you worries it’ll be the last time. You didn’t use to have this fear, not until Emily. Despite staring death in the face on a week by week basis, most of the time playing Russian Roulette with the Grim Reaper himself in each unsub you cross paths with, somehow you never thought he’d actually take someone you love from you; that he’d take down one of the team. You never thought there’d be a last conversation with Emily, and now she’s dead.

Dead. The word is a heavy stone, sinking from the cusps of your mind to the pit of your stomach. It sits there, a persistent ache idling deep inside of you. It never relents and it never allows you to forget.

There are nights you dream that Aaron is dead too, that somewhere far away and beyond your control, he’s dying on the ground, bleeding out, and no one knows. You don’t even know what he’s working on and he can’t say; despite your relationship there are still levels in which Hotch’s clearance supersedes your own and the need-to-know red tape keeps you out. Afraid to close your eyes and dream of his unseeing, you stare at the blades of the ceiling fan whirling lazily overhead of the bed you usually share with him.

“I miss you,” you whisper to no one; and you don’t know who you’re talking to anymore.

•

“He’s back?” your heart flutters in your chest, equal parts excited and anxious at the prospect of Aaron’s sudden return. You push off your desk and swivel in your chair to stand, rushing down the hall and leaving Reid behind as you make your way hastily to the conference room.

The door is cracked and a gleeful sound eeks past your lips as his tall frame comes into view. You slip in before anyone else arrives and throw your arms around you. Inhaling deeply, his familiar teakwood scent envelopes you just as his arms do. You move to pull away, but his arms tighten around you.

“A second more,” he whispers, and there’s an edge to his voice.

You write it off to jet lag and sink into his embrace, though you notice how slight he feels against you. Finally, you pull back and cup his face in your hands. The scruff of his beard is prickly and you laugh as you take in his rugged appearance. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with this much facial hair.” You swipe your thumbs over the hair on his lip and he tilts his head, kissing the inside of your hand. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply before lifting them to meet yours. It's then you realize how tired he looks. The bags under his eyes are puffy and purple, almost as if they’re bruised. His forehead is creased, brow furrowed; definitely not how you pictured him upon reuniting.

“Aaron is everything ok—”

“I need you to know I would never hurt you,” he says quickly, interrupting you.

You purse your lips, brow pinching at the sudden admission. As your lips part to speak he directs a pointed look at you, the depths of his brown eyes wavering. “I love you,” his voice cracks, “so much.” He swallows, his throat bobbing as he does so. “Please remember that.”

There’s a hollow feeling in your gut, a chasm opening wide where every anxious and painful thought that you’ve tried to keep buried since he’s been gone begins to claw their way out as a thousand different outcomes play out in front of you. “Aaron, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer your question as the rest of the team trickles into the room, sitting at the round table or standing as suspense fills the space. It’s tangible. Everyone’s posture is rigid and tense in anticipation of whatever it is he has to say.

“Seven months ago I made a decision that impacted everyone on this team,” he begins, eyes firm.

Spencer shifts uncomfortably beside you. Rossi leans forward, fingers steepled under his chin.

“As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood,” Hotch continues and your ears prick at the sound of her name. Why would he bring her up? No less, her condition the day you all lost her. You all know this.

“…the doctor’s were able to stabilize her.”

Your lips part but no sound comes out as you raise your eyes to meet his. They meet yours for the briefest of seconds before flitting on to the others.The next words to leave his mouth sound far away, interrupted by the blood now pounding in your eardrums. “She stayed there until she was well enough to travel…given identities…”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel as though you may choke on it. Air doesn’t seem to be able to bypass it and you have to remind yourself that you can breathe even though it feels like all the oxygen has vacated your lungs.

Penelope is the first to speak. “She’s alive?”

Spencer’s brow quirks as he tries to rationalize what’s being said to him. “We buried her.”

You did. You helped carry the casket. You felt the weight of her dead body and watched it sink into the earth. If that wasn’t her, what the fuck or who the fuck did you actually put in the ground?”

“As I said I take full responsibility for this decision,” Hotch continues, eyes downcast. “If anyone has any issues they should be directed towards me.”

The blood pounding in your ears is deafening. When Hotch looks up, you search his eyes and can’t help wondering if you know him at all. All of the nights you literally made yourself sick from crying and he held your hair back as you dry heaved over the toilet and your body spasmed from the grief of losing your best friend, he’d known that she was alive. For a moment, you think you may be sick right there at the round table at the thought of it all. Derek is speaking, his voice tight with anger but you don’t hear him. Heads turn and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as a haunting feeling creeps up the back of your spine.

Turning around in your chair, everyone else stands but not you. If you do, you know your knees will buckle and fall out from under you. Spencer and Penelope are on their feet, moving briskly to greet the ghost of Emily.

Except she’s not a ghost. Her skin is not the cold blue-gray pallor of death, but pink and bright, the blood beneath her flesh very much pumping through a heart that’s beating. Her dark brown hair is sleek and shining, her bangs grown out and styled; her part now to the right. You watch her arms fold around Spencer and the way he squeezes her in turn. Penelope follows suit, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smiles widely. Derek stares on, features fixed in a cross between anger and shock. Emily approaches him with apprehension. An apology leaves her lips as she draws him in for a hug and his arms tentatively wrap around her. When she turns to you, your muscles tense. Those deep brown irises flicker back and forth across your face, searching for a reaction. You don’t give her one. Instead, you push past her, avoiding any and all physical contact with her, and dip out of the conference room.

You hear Garcia call your name and Derek shouts about having a case. You don’t care. You bypass your desk, not even bothering to get your purse. Your keys are hanging on a carabiner on your belt loop. Ignoring the elevator, you shove your way through the entrance to the stairs and move down them so quickly you’re surprised you don’t lose your footing and tumble down them. Down and around you go, your footsteps echoing as your heart slams against your ribcage. You slap your badge against the keypad that lets you exit the building, ignoring the greeting from the security guard at the front. As you push through the front doors of the office building, you barely make it to the bushes before you fall to your knees and retch.

•

A car door slams followed by the double beep which locks them. You close your eyes and inhale deeply as you prepare to face him, hands clenching around the sweater you were packing. A tear slips free from your eye as you breathe out and look toward the ceiling, as if the answers to why all of this had to happen are written up there. This is not how your reunion is supposed to be. You’d pictured his homecoming for weeks; thought about the outfit you’d wear to dinner and the lingerie you’d bought to wear just for him when you both got home, opened a bottle of wine, and made up for all of the time lost while he was away. That is how tonight is supposed to go.

Now you’re leaving, and you don’t know if you’ll be coming back.

The lock on the front door jiggles before the gears click into place. It squeaks on its hinges as it swings open. Five beeps follow and you can picture his fingers pressing against each button on the alarm system. His keys clatter as he drops them on the table. As his footsteps edge closer to your bedroom, you count each one. The sound that usually means safety and security, now sends a shiver of anxiety throughout your body.

He appears in the doorway, eyes rife with exhaustion and the bags beneath them puffy and swollen. His cheeks are flushed and his nose is pink, as if he’d been crying. Maybe he had been, god knows you had. His eyes flit between you and the bag you’re packing. His lips part and a small sound of desperation slips past them.

“Baby, please—”

You hold up a hand, curling your fingers into a fist. Your lip curls as you speak. “Don’t,” you breathe. You swallow the lump that quickly forms in your throat as you drop your hand, zipping the bag shut.

The inner corners of his brow draw upward and you can hardly stand to look into his pleading gaze.

“You have to understand—”

“Understand, what? Aaron?” You ask sharply, struggling to hold back the thick hot tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

He places a hand on his hip, fingers tucking back the fold of his unbuttoned shirt as his thumb hooks into his belt; a gesture you’re all too familiar with as he does the same thing with all of his suits. His other hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose. He pauses, inhaling as he tries to find the words. After a moment, he scrubs a hand over his face and turns his gaze to yours.

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” he says. When he looks at you there are tears in his eyes. “I hated myself, watching the agony this decision put you and the team through. I wanted to tell you and take away your hurt, but I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair to the team. Just because you’re my girlfriend, I can’t—” He turns his hand and slams his hand against the doorframe causing you to flinch. “Dammit!”

Your voice is soft, but sure when you speak. “You can’t bend the rules.”

It’s what you’ve always worried about, both of you. You always knew the job could come first, especially with him being the Unit Chief. You always understood that that meant no preferential treatment and that is something you never would’ve asked him to do. You just never anticipated it happening like this, a complete and total life altering mind fuck.

Aaron drops his hand and it slaps against his thigh in defeat as it falls to his side. “What was I supposed to do?”

You cross your arms over your chest, fingers curling over your biceps to try and still your shaking hair. You hang your head and a curtain of hair falls across your face, “I don’t know, Aaron.”

He kicks off the doorway, moving towards you with his hands outstretched. It happens without thinking, the way you flinch away. Pain flashes in his eyes and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the stomach the way it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

His hip is close to yours, his body angled away from you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulder as he looks down. “Don’t do this,” he whispers.

Your lip quivers, chin wobbling in response to the tears you’re trying so desperately to hold back. “I have vacation I’d been saving.” You pick up your bag and throw it over your shoulder, not daring to look up at him because you know if you do you’ll shatter into a thousand shards of glass at his feet.

As you move toward the door, you pause. For a split second, you entertain the thought of dropping your bag, running across the room he’d chased you around so many times before, and throwing yourself around him. You consider all the things you want to say and scream and cry about; all of your anger, sadness, betrayal, grief, and love. You crave him so terribly in that moment because his have always been the arms you’ve run to when things become too much to bear.

Instead, your chin dips toward your shoulder as you speak, but you don’t raise your eyes to meet his. If you do, you don’t think you’ll be able to leave. “My gun and badge are in the safe.”

As you make your way down the hallway, you have to bite your knuckles to stifle a sob just as you hear one leave his lips from the bedroom.

You don’t turn back.

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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Ducks | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: listen… i don’t have to explain anything. i think we all are onboard with great dad simon

warnings: vague mentions of simon’s trauma, mentions of you (you’re not really in this one), winnie and mellie being cute kids because i said so, mentions of miscarriage but he’s explaining it in a good way to winnie, mentions of medicine

summary: It’s hot in England, so it’s time to pull out the plastic kiddie pool and dip toes in the frighteningly cold water. Winnie finds a new friend.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

“She can be Duckling too!”

Winnie pushed the little ducks in her plastic kiddie pool around, making them tap Simon’s leg that was in the water. He looked down at the little mini you in between his calves, sitting against the very small wall of the little pool and admiring the little octopus in her hand.

The sun was beaming down and even with the windows open, Simon was sweating up a storm. What better idea than to take out the foot tall kiddie pool, fill it with water and toys so he and his girls can stay cool? Even though he wouldn’t be sitting on a chair next to the pool with his feet in the water, he still had his dark blue swim trunks on and a white t-shirt, sunglasses on his eyes but his gaze never left the water. Even a moment’s look away can kill, he knew it was able to happen.

Winnie was sat in her light green swimsuit with her hair messily done up, Simon had pulled it into a little high ponytail but there were strands poking out from the top. The curls she got from her mom always gave Simon a little tug on his heart - if he could tell Winnie’s mom one thing right now, it would be that her daughter was happy.

Mellie cooed from her snug seat between Simon’s feet, little hands splashing down her smaller toys into the water.

“Or Duckie.” Winnie suggested. “I like Duckie, Melsie can be Duckie.”

“What if I like a different nickname?” Simon asked, leaning forwards to adjust Mellie’s mini boonie hat, purple with flowers, to make sure the sun didn’t hurt her little face. He almost heard his mum in his head, reminding him that all children need sunscreen, even babies!

Winnie hummed a little, splashing down one of her bigger yellow rubber ducks, the water spraying on Mellie. “I like Duckie.” The baby giggled, splashing her own duck back at her sister. The older girl smiled wide. Simon glanced up at the sky before back down to his daughters, deciding to grab the sunscreen stick beside his chair. He uncapped it, holding a hand out for Winnie. “C’mere, little love.”

The five year old glared at her father, almost grumbling as she stood out of the now lukewarm water, moving out of it so he was able to reach her. Her little hand was so small compared to his huge bear paw of a hand, yet he held hers with care as he began to smear sunscreen on her little face. Her nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed as she complained, “I’m fine, Daddy!”

A stripe of sunscreen down her nose almost made Winnie stomp her foot if it wasn’t for Mellie giggling. The big sister was now distracted as she peered around Simon’s legs to see what the baby was doing, he wiped the sunscreen stick on every showing part of skin on his daughter, knowing that his mother would come from the grave to kill him if he didn’t. “Melsie!” Winnie squealed, a smile on her face, he could feel the baby’s head hit his leg to look for her big sister.

His nose twitched as he recognized how he thought of his mother more now, and not in the way he used to. He used to dream about her tears, her arms shielding him from his father, her hands settled on his face to tell him that it’s okay. Now, it was like she was making her presence known by forcing him to think about her again.

Simon Riley wanted his mother and brother to meet the little girls playing in the water in his backyard, wanted his mother to have been here while you were pregnant with Mellie. He wanted his mother here to hold him one last time, and tell him that he was doing this right - because he was flying blind.

As soon as the last swipe of sunscreen went to Winnie’s hand, she tugged herself from his grasp and got back into the pool, purposefully sitting in front of her sister in the water. She began to pull her bigger plastic dolls and rubber ducks towards Mellie, a smile on her little face. The toy haul was short-lived when Simon pulled Mellie up and out of the water, settling her on his lap so he could see her face. The baby scrunched her nose just like her sister did, all he had to do was swipe the sunscreen on her feet, hands and face since her swimsuit covered the rest of her little body. He was a little more gentle with Mellie, holding her back as she shook her head, trying to escape the sunscreen. She let out a little huff, eyes that matched his stared at him with an intensity like his own. He was happy that Winnie didn’t stare as a baby, but Mellie stares like he does when he’s on deployment - like the person on the receiving end is going to die.

Please tell me there’s a way to make babies forget how to stare.

White streaks on Mellie’s skin meant she would be protected from the sun for at least another couple hours or so, he made sure to get her little chubby chin. The baby squealed a little, her hands always trying to grab for the sunscreen yet failing.

“Well, Wins, you call her Melsie,” The baby in question cooed at the nickname as Simon looked to his oldest daughter. “Why do you want her to have another nickname?”

“For you, Daddy!” Winnie smiled, brown eyes warm in the sunshine. He capped the sunscreen stick, tossing it to the ground before moving Mellie to have her actually sit on his lap, her back against his stomach. The baby began to kick out her legs, whining as he kept his hand on her belly, keeping her secure to his body.

Winnie pulled out a small duck from the pool, holding it up and towards Mellie, who cooed and reached for it. “Melsie’s mine, but I’m Duckling too! She can be Duckie or something, what do you want to call her?” Winnie looked up to her dad as her sister took the duck in her hand, curiously inspecting it. “She can be Duckie.”

“I like Bug.” He said, a smile on his face while Winnie lit up - her smile even wider.

“Buggie!” She declared, moving away from him and out of the pool, beginning to run around the small grass backyard.

Simon’s attention went to Mellie, who was now looking up at him and squinting. “Hi, Bug.” The baby babbled, lifting up her duck towards his face. He then picked her up again, moving down and placing her in the water in between his feet again. She kicked out her legs, splashing the water and giggling. She threw the duck down into the water, letting the water spray out of the little pool.

“Daddy!” Called Winnie, his head snapped up and whipped to his left, scanning the small yard for Winnie - his eyes widened.

Winnie stood by the little yellow shed, a wide smile on her face as she held up what looked like a kitten.

“Only my kid,” He mumbled to himself before picking Mellie up - who protested by screeching in annoyance - and placing her against his chest, water dripped down his shirt as he stood. “Winnie, put it down.”

“It’s a cat!” She exclaimed, the little thing squirmed in her harsh grasp. “Daddy, it’s a cat!”

“I can see that.” He answered, stalking towards his oldest daughter. He was not a fan of pets, definitely ones that his daughter probably scooped up out of the garden. “Put it down.”

Winnie’s nose scrunched again as she pulled the kitten back into her chest, the little thing barely even moved. “No.”

Simon almost stopped walking towards her, eyebrows furrowed. She had never defied him before, and he sure as Hell was not going to make a scene because he knew that if she cried, it would be over for him. He’s break instantly and do whatever she wanted. He took in a small breath through his nose. “Winnie, you need to put it down. It’s dirty.”

“She’s sick, Daddy.” Winnie mumbled, looking down at the ground as he finally reached her. He kneeled in front of her, she looked away. He could clearly see the kitten now, it was small and dirty - it looked barely a couple weeks old. His daughter met his gaze, her best puppy eyes being used as she whispered, “Can we help her?”

There was nothing wrong with cats, he just didn’t like them. Scratching up furnishings, hairballs, peeing everywhere - well, that was what his brother’s cat was like when he was a kid, before his dad found it and it disappeared. Simon shook the memory from his head before sighing, keeping Mellie farther from the cat since she was trying to reach for it - the baby squirmed in frustration.

He scrunched his nose too, trying to decide if doing this was a good idea. Yes, responsibility for Winnie and blah blah blah, but he had no idea if his wife would be okay with it. She was sleeping right now and he didn’t want to bother her now so it was just him, his daughters, and a sickly looking kitten his eldest found somewhere. He sighed. “Mum’ll decide what to do later.” His daughter’s face lit up. He glared at her. “She’s not going to stay here, Winnie. We’ll wash her up and get her medicine, but then she has to go back to her mum, okay?” His hand goes to brush a small strand of hair behind Winnie’s ear, her smile quickly faded.

“But… I want to keep her.” Her bottom lip quivered, he sighed.

“It’s not up for discussion. Go inside and hold it, don’t let it wander.” He stood then, Winnie darted away towards the back door. He looked down to Mellie, who stared up at him with an annoyed face. He found it incredible that she was more like him than Winnie was, he smiled to her. She didn’t like it.

He followed his oldest daughter inside, moving to grab a towel he had placed on the counter to dry off Mellie. He pulled off her boonie hat before wrapping her in the fluffy towel, he wanted to go back outside so he moved to the living room and placed her in the mesh-fenced play pen, lined with soft toys. The baby no longer made her upset face and cooed as she unraveled herself from the towel to begin to play. He moved away towards the kitchen, finding Winnie standing next to the sink, the little kitten in her arms hadn’t moved. His eyebrows furrowed before he opened a drawer and grabbed a tea towel, holding it on his hand and saying, “Give it here.”

“You’re gonna put her outside.” Winnie’s bottom lip trembled, he sighed.

“Gotta wash it, Duckling. It might be injured.” He explained. “I won’t take it outside, I’m gonna wash it upstairs. Go play with your sister for me, it’ll be as good as new soon.”

Winnie looked up at her dad, weariness in her eyes before she gently pulled the little creature from her chest and gently placed it on the towel in his hand. He lifted it towards his face, now noticing the black cat with a dirty white face was barely even breathing. He turned away from his daughter, moving towards the stairs as his other hand began to gently poke at the kitten’s face, trying to get it to respond. He glanced behind himself, seeing that Winnie had found her way into the playpen with Mellie, and turned back to the upstairs. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made it to the hall bathroom, which was decorated with pinks, blues, and greens. He moved towards the sink, rubbing the little kitten’s face to try and wake it up.

After a few seconds of rubbing its face, its eye opened and revealed a light yellow eye. The little thing shuddered, he frowned. He pushed the drain plug into the sink drain with his free hand, then starting the faucet with warm water. The kitten barely moved an arm, he noted how frail she looked. Probably abandoned by her mum.

“Alright, Missy, let’s getcha cleaned up, yeah?”

The little thing pawed a little at the towel, he settled her on the counter before shutting off the water so it was just a little water in the basin. He gently settled it in the water, using Mellie’s baby soap to wash its fur. The kitten was still in his hand, little yellow eyes watching the water. He washed its back, looking for fleas, finding none. He inspected its neck and face too, no injuries or fleas - it must have been malnourished, he could very distinctly feel its bones. He gently washed its little face, the dirt falling away and revealing white rings around its eyes. It almost reminded him of his mask.

As soon as he was confident that the kitten was throughly washed and not injured, he grabbed a hand towel from underneath the sink - something that would be a lot softer on the creature. It had closed its eyes as soon as he gently wrapped it with the towel, he moved the small bundle to his chest as he pulled the drain plug. The water drained as he left the bathroom, silently walking down the stairs and to the living room.

Winnie was standing in the play pen, watching him intently as he walked towards them. He saw Mellie on her back, chewing on an ear of a stuffed dog. He chuckled a little as Winnie asked, “Is she okay now?”

He looked down at the kitten’s head, seeing its ear twitch a little. “She’s fine for now, kiddo. We’ll keep her ‘til she gets a little bigger, but then she has to go somewhere else.”

She pouted a little before holding her hands out, “Can I have my kitty please?”

He laughed humorlessly. “No.”

His daughter made a noise of confusion. “I asked nicely.”

“Yes, you did. But it’s too sick for you to take care of.” He answered. “You can have it when it’s better.”

Winnie scrunched her nose and turned away, sitting beside Mellie and refusing to look at him. He looked down at the little kitten, sleeping away in its little cocoon. He sighed, not wanting to believe that his little girl was getting big enough to have tantrums.

He spent the rest of his day taking care of the little kitten, keeping it in an open cardboard box with a couple towels in it, it slumbered away after he fed it was little cow’s milk he had left in the fridge. He made a mental note to go to the market in the morning as he now held Mellie on his chest, bouncing a little on his feet as he neared her crib. She was sound asleep and in comfy colorful pajamas, her little hand gripped his shirt. He slowly peeled off the baby from his chest, laying her on her back in her crib. He gently pet her head, whispering a sweet good night before leaving her room.

He then walked down the dark hallway to Winnie’s room, her lamp illuminating her room as she laid in her bed, facing away from the door. He saw her green bear on the floor next to her bed, he quietly stalked into the room to grab it. As soon as he grabbed it, he almost jumped back when Winnie turned towards him, annoyance on her face. He held out the bear names Pricey to her, she took it.

“I’m not giving the cat away for fun, you know.” He whispered, kneeling beside her bed. “It’s for the best.”

She stared at him. “What if Mummy wants a kitty?”

He shrugged. “It’s not good a time to have a cat right now, honey. Mum’s still sick.” He hated not being able to help ease his wife’s pain, going through a miscarriage of a baby you really wanted was tough - it was rough for him too, but he put his children first to let you take the time you needed.

“Mummy’s been sick for forever.” She murmured, arms wrapped around her bear. “Why can’t she get better so I can have a kitty?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, moving to tug her blanket up to her chin. He spoke with a gentle calmness, “Remember when Mum told you you’re gonna have a brother?” Winnie nodded. “And then he went away?” His daughter nodded again, he sighed. “He put Mum in a lot of pain, both in her tummy and in her heart. She feels sick all the time,” He gently brushed Winnie’s curls around her ear as he looked into her brown eyes. “Mum just needs all the love she can get and a long time to feel better.”

“The kitty can love her.” She whined, pouting a little.

“Mum only feels better when you and Mellie and me love her, Duckling.” He was losing the battle, knowing that Winnie would end up winning by outsmarting him with her little kid brain. That’s when he had an idea. He retracted his hand from her head, saying, “Once the cat gets better, I’ll give it to Uncle Soap until Mum gets better. Then you can ask her about the cat, okay?”

This way the cat would get attached to Soap and never have to be back in the house. Great idea, hope he’s not allergic. You know what? I hope he is. It’s what he deserves for pranking my ass every chance he gets.

His daughter nodded, whispering, “Can you name my kitty, Daddy?”

His eyes widened a little, lips pressed into a thin line. “Why don’t you name it?”

“I don’t want to.” She shrugged, he sort of laughed.

“Alright, Duckling. We’ll call her Missy.”

The girl smiled. “What’s her real name then?”

His eyebrows furrowed, he grew confused. “What do you mean?”

“My name is Winter, but it’s also Winnie.” His daughter then yawned, her eyes fluttering to try and fight off sleep. He gently settled his hand on her cheek, her little hand sat on top of his.

He almost smiled, almost broke his straight face as he said, “Missile Launcher.”

His daughter smiled so wide as she giggled, “Okay!” Yep, she’s just like me.

“Alright, now go to sleep.” He leaned forwards and kissed her forehead.

He moved to stand but Winnie spoke, “Tell Pricey good night too, Daddy.”

He sighed, facing her bear and saying, “Good night, Pricey.” He gently pat his daughter’s face before he stood and turned to her lamp, turning it off. Her little nightlight beside the door now dimly illuminated the room, he whispered, “Love you, little love.”

She whispered a little, “Love you too, Daddy.”

He was silent when he left her room, closing the door behind him before making his way to his bedroom. He closed the door behind himself, his own lamp illuminated the room. You were curled into a ball on your side of the bed, his pillow tucked under your chin as you faced his side. He moved towards the bed, being careful of the cardboard box settled on the floor next to his side. He peered into the box, observing the little black kitten until he could see it breathing. He then got into bed, reaching to shut off his lamp before moving towards you.

He would be okay without a pillow to sleep on, but he would never be okay not holding you as you were in pain. He rested his head halfway on the pillow, his arms coming to pull you into him. You murmured in your medicine induced slumber, the sleeping pills giving you a while without pain. He kissed her forehead, gently brushing his hand down your back.

He’d ask you about the cat beside your bed later.

taglist: @sigynxlokiwifelover @lumpypoll @multitargaryen @chloeforde @blueoorchid @vir-tual

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon riley call of duty #simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x wife!reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon riley x fem!reader

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supercutszns · 3 months

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A best friends to lovers between Luke and a Ares reader where some how Ares ends up at Camp-Half-Blood and gets to meet all his kids, and despite his seemingly uninterested demeanor when he meets the 2 best fighters of his cabin (Clarisse and the reader) he’s genuinely impressed but doesn’t show it. Reader ends up feeling like she disappointed Ares due to his lack of emotion despite the days and nights full of intense training she’s put in since being at camp and ends up ranting about it to Luke who ends up confronting Ares despite the intimidation he feels when doing so because he wants reader to know how amazing she truly is and knows that if it comes from the father she looks up to so dearly that she’ll believe it finally. Ares reluctantly ends up talking to the reader and says something along the lines of Luke being a decent boyfriend and that he has some fire for being a child of Hermes. Ares genuinely thought the two were together but shrugged it off when the reader disagreed despite her feelings. After Ares and tiny Ares have their heart to heart, or as close to one of those as u can get with that cabin, reader ends up thanking Luke and confessing her feelings.

Ik that was a lot sry! I’ve just had the idea since the Ares ep came out. Have a great day 😊😊

omfg i am eating this up. u had me at best friends to lovers

ares coming to camp and meeting his kids😭😭 my god that’s so bittersweet especially with clarisse and reader being the best fighters :( luke confronting ares i’m FERALLL U KNOW HE WOULD CONFRONT A GOD FOR HIS GIRL HE DOES NOT GAF (or at least he pretends to. he’s still a little scared)

he’s already angry at the gods and the one that happens to be your father just disregards your strength?? you’re upset and you confide in him about how inadequate you feel and luke’s like oh i need to beat a bitch up

luke gets ares alone the second he can and like tries to be diplomatic but it’s obvious how much he hates ares right off the bat. basically comes in fists ablaze and ares says “no i actually was super impressed by her i just didn’t feel like telling her lol” and luke is like. what is wrong with you

eventually the conversation ends on a somewhat lukewarm note; when luke turns to leave ares says kinda nonchalantly “i see why you two are together, you’ve got a lot of fire for a hermes kid”

luke just goes: huh??????????? and ares is like “you know, you and my daughter” luke just stares at area dumbstruck and he just sighs and is like. jesus fucking christ there’s no way

then he talks to you (a little begrudgingly but only a little; he wonders if some of aphrodite’s matchmaking tendencies have rubbed off on him) and he tells you very sparingly that you’re gifted, then he’s like “please for the love of Me, Ares, the War God tell that boy you like him i think he’s going to set me on fire.”

he ends the conversation at that so obviously you’re dumbstruck (both by the praise and by your father urging you to ask out your best friend) but when luke comes around to ask how it went you know your dad got something right.

you thank him for everything and work up the courage to mention what ares said at the end, and luke laughs a little and is like “that’s so weird he said the same thing to me” so you shrug and say “maybe he has a point.” luke doesn’t get flustered often but he def is now so you take it upon yourself to kiss him to drive the point home <3 after that you confess the full scope of your feelings and he kisses you bc he’s just so eager and he mutters against your lips that this is the only time he’s ever respected a god in the slightest. then you guys go spar together like old times except this time there’s 90% more making out 💗💗

#perrie prattles #perrie’s asks #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan headcanon #luke castellan drabble

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bird-inacage · 7 months

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Only Friends: Why Ray x Mew is Doomed to Fail

This show is consistently catching me off guard and I LOVE that. I was not expecting this to come out of the fallout, mostly because I didn't see Mew ever choosing this. But here we are. As soon as the final scene of Ray and Mew dancing at Yo's bar came on screen, I was wildly uncomfortable. Something felt so inherently wrong and off-kilter with this image. So let's discuss why.

Resigned Acceptance VS Active Choice

Let's be clear firstly; Mew hasn't chosen Ray. The entire exchange between them is Mew doing calculations in his head. And what he concludes is if someone loves you far more, then you don't lose out. Logically it's a far easier and safer proposition to try. (Whereas with Top, who was supposedly so out of Mew's league, has now caused Mew a tonne of insecurity because of his betrayal). Ray can't hurt him because Mew has never regarded Ray as suited for that spot.

It's with an air of resigned acceptance (and an obvious lack of any enthusiasm) that Mew accepts Ray's pursuit of him. Like a lukewarm shrug, 'Yeah. I guess. I suppose. Why not.' Right now Mew needs a distraction and here is his perfect opportunity to appear as if he's 'moved on' already. That he's unaffected. Mew is only doing all of this because he's hurting. If Top hadn't cheated, his stance on Ray would still be unwaveringly firm.

This also serves as an ideal way to punish Top. Top's reason for cheating was thinking (wrongly) that there was something going on between him and Ray. So why not rub that in his face and actually have something going on now to spite him? Top's worst nightmare manifested.

Mew Playing Mew 2.0

I had a really strong feeling this episode that Mew was trying to emanate Ray, especially with his new look. Bit by bit, Mew is denouncing everything that once made him who he was. He's trying to embrace the opposite end of the spectrum and his closest point of reference is Ray.

Ray isn't responsible. Ray is impulsive. He has everyone else taking care of him. I think in some ways Mew may envy Ray at times. The luxury to be reckless, spontaneous and have people around you to pick up the pieces. To test run Ray's 'fuck it' mentality for a change and forego accountability is freeing, it's seductive.

However, Mew 2.0 is just Mew playing 'dress up'. It's a costume and a form of armour but nothing more. Mew is not coupling up with Ray as his authentic self (and ultimately the 'self' that Ray fell in love with). The man Ray loves VS the man Ray is now dating are two different people. There's already a layer of falsehood sandwiched between them.

Ray's Glorification of Mew

In Ray's eyes, Mew can do no wrong. The way that Ray sees Mew is faultless, blemish-free, almost saintlike. Mew is his saviour and Ray holds him on a incredibly high pedestal. This puts an enormous amount of pressure on anyone who is the subject of this adoration.

When we love someone, what we really desire is to be seen for all the things that makes us painfully human. The things we hate about ourselves; the ugly, the unsightly, the flaws - for someone to know us at our very worst and still love us despite all that.

Ray's opinion of Mew means he can never truly appreciate who he is as just another person who has his faults and shortcomings. It also means Ray is likely to look to Mew to have the answers, to share his wisdom and that's just not always going to be the case.

For now, Ray may be basking in the awe of living his ultimate fantasy but I don't think he'll be able to cope with the reality being less than perfection. Of Mew being less than perfection. You've set Mew up to fail, and you've doomed this relationship to fall short of the spectacular grandeur you may have conjured in your head.

This pairing is fundamentally not on equal footing. Mew is vicariously living through Ray like some rollercoaster ride to hedonism. Ray is a means for him but not a destination.

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #only friends meta #ray pakorn #ray #mew #raymew #mewray #khaotung thanawat #book kasidet #it's a hard no from me #this pairing gets more messed up the more i think about it #ray really thought they were bonnie and clyding it didn't he??#you naive idiot child #i don't want it #no thank you

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vampirenigh · 8 months

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Fun and fame

Summary: You are an idol.

Characters: Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshi, Bachira Meguru.

Warnings: Some curse words, stalkers, harassment.

Masterlist

Sae Itoshi

He would be supportive. You always come to his games when you can so he always comes to your shows if he is in the same country as you.

He would listen to your songs and give you some feedback before they are released.

Your fans and his fans love to see pictures of you both on different dates, in a studio or on a training ground. One time you and Sae tried to cook a speciality from French on your live but you both ended up full of flour and laughing. The fans made many edits of you.

When Sae heard that you had a stalker he got very mad. He is a possessive man and no one has the right to touch what is his. In the end he took care of him with his fans and whit social media making him a laughing stock.

On the rare occasions when someone is hitting on you he will just come to you both and look in his eyes. That works most of the time but when it doesn't he won't care if he is in public or not. He will curse him out till he leaves.

"Do you think you lukewarm shit are good enough for her? Fuck off before I will do something that will make you regret that you were even born asshole."

Rin Itoshi

He doesn't care. Not in a bad way. He won't care if you are an idol, a model or nothing at all. He loves you and that's it. But that doesn't stop him from coming at your shows when he can.

He likes to listen to your songs when he trains. They are nice and it helps him to not hear his teammates.

When he heard that you had a stalker he confronted him directly. He didn't care who he was. He was ready to throw some punches at his stupid face. After that no one stalked you anymore. They were scared of your boyfriend.

And if he sees that you are being harassed he just takes your hand and drags you away from that man. If the man still complains he turns and sends him a glare that makes him shit his pants.

"If any more man harrass you just leave. They are not worthy of your time. They are so lukewarm."

Bachira Meguru

He is your biggest supporter. He comes to all of your shows and gives you a small present after every show.

He likes to praise you a lot and likes to show you off to everyone. Especially Isagi. I think Isagi knows all about you because of Bachira.

He likes to listen your music at training, when he cooks, when he buys things. He listens to it on every waking minute. He knows all your songs by now.

When he heard that you have a stalker he was worried. Like are you okay? Why didn't you tell him faster? He would tell his team and tell everyone to help him. In the end he helped you.

When you are harrased he just wants in the conversation and makes the oder man uncomfortable.

"Oh, who is he? Your friend? Isn't Y/n amazing? She has such a perfect voice. Doesn't she?"

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ultfreakme · 2 months

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Nah Zutara is def happening. Two of the writers (Omashu and Into the Dark) are Zutara shippers and liking Zutara content all the time esp about Kiawentiio and Dallas. The Netflix accounts are pushing Zutara like crazy. Albert Kim is an enemies to lovers enthusiast and said that the original endgame ships are up in the air.

I am trying so very hard to be objective about this and so I am going to tell you what I'm seeing in the nicest way possible but I'm really sorry if I can't:

I've checked the official Netflix account, I follow it on twitter, nothing afaik. The closest I found was picture sets but they did it for Dallas and Gordon, Dallas and Ian, Elizabeth Yu and Kiawentiio too, and obviously Gordon and Kiawentiio, all the duos. There's a video clip of Kiawentiio throwing out a question card about if Katara likes Zuko and their first immediate reaction is laughing (and not in a way that's confirming it- like Dallas was about to clap and Ian gave a thumbs-up, not encouraging and they conclude it with saying a lukewarm 'no kinda well' likely because it's spoilers for season 3).

youtube

Kiawentiio right after an interviewer mentioned Zutara, she said and I quote ; "What Avatar are you watching?"

Albert Kim on Kataang:

It's being delayed to S2 because the age difference looks way too obvious in live action. It's still happening, just later when the actors look closer in age. They heavily hint towards future Kataang by comparing Aang and Katara to Tui and La on-screen (Yue saying the ocean will forever search for its counterpart while panning between Aang and Katara whos is reaching out for him, and Sokka and Yue where Sokka's begging Yue to stay- it's very on-the nose).

The OG show also had creatives who like Zutara, they inserted bait for it in the chibi shorts but nothing came of it in any canon and everything is steadfastly for Kataang. Heck, currently the cast are pushing Zukka all the time, doesn't mean it's going to be canon(Dallas Liu and Ian Ousley saying "hey ship our characters!" word-for-word does not equal Zuko and Sokka are going to date for real in the show).

It's disappointing that fanon ships aren't canon, but that's just what you sign up for when shipping fanon. You are not going to to get what you want, neither am I.

Kataang is the heart of the show, nothing will take that away and I think it's best to just, make peace with that instead of looking too hard into behind-the-scenes and cast stuff hoping THIS is when it's going to happen(I play along with the Zukka bait because it's funny, not because I think it's going to be real).

Also, writers liking Zutara content? Fine, do you, have a blast! It DOES get weird when they're sincerely promoting Dallas and Kiawentiio as an item though because they met when she was like 15 and he was 19/20, and now she's 17 while he's 22 now. She's a child, he's an adult pretty much their entire work relationship. That's really freaking weird. EDIT: Dallas and Ian, who are the actual adults in the cast have been actively redirecting all ship-related conversations towards themselves and their characters because they CAN handle whatever flame wars erupt from that, meanwhile Gordon and Kiawentiio are children so they shouldn't even be in the discussion as actors when it comes to the fictional ships.

#natla #atla la #riki asks #kataang #atla netflix #netflix atla

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meyousing · 1 year

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𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 [𝟐]

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: chrollo + prompt 27 “you know that I’ll find you. I always find you.” + reincarnation(& or soulmate) au

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you’re able to find a place to rest before you continue your journey home, but you can only make it so far when your soulmate has so many methods at his hands to keep tabs on you.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this is PART 2 [final part] of a soulmate au where mates have a nen tattoo of the other's portrait on their hand. sfw, manipulation, some violence, implied side character death.

return to 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 here!

You’d managed to run for half a day, adrenaline taking you as far away as you were capable. When the sun had started to set that same night, your energy began to diminish along with the sunlight, and your legs simply couldn’t carry you anymore, not even in a walk or trudge. Thankfully, you’d made it far out enough from the previous wasteland, that there was somewhat of a city surrounding you now. A city, with more people around, and less of an odour plaguing the air.

Despite the security you felt from having more people surrounding you, you were very worried about taking a break. You had none of your possessions, so paying for the safety that four walls of a motel room could provide was impossible, short of begging and pleading for one with the receptionist. But you weren’t certain of where exactly you were, your paranoia made it so that you still felt like you were in close proximity to your initial drop off– still in close proximity to Chrollo, who must have been hunting you down this entire time. That thought also had you worried about finding a place to rest outside; the risk of being entirely exposed and out in the open scaring you out of it immediately. It was out of the question.

“Please, I’ll find a way to pay it back later. It’ll just be one night, I’ll even take a room that hasn't been cleaned yet! I’ll take anything that you have, please…” you begged the receptionist with interlocked hands, your head bowing down in desperation. He only groaned.

“Listen, I don’t want to keep repeating myself. I can’t let you have a room without an upfront payment, that’s how it works here. You’re gonna have to pay here, or go somewhere else. Those are gonna be your only options around here.”

Rage boiled within you, nails digging into your skin as you glared back up at the man.

“There has to be something else I can do instead of an upfront, I don’t have any money to pay with right now!” To prove your point, you reached into your pockets and pulled them right out in a dramatic display to show him just how empty they were.

As you did, a handful of coins flew out and onto the floor.

The receptionist raised his eyebrows at you. Surely now he must have thought you were a complete idiot who just exposed your plan to swindle him. You blinked off your shock at this discovery, laughing nervously as you bent down to pick the coins up and place the right amount onto the counter; shocked once more to see that you still had some money left over after the room was paid for.

You were still in your work uniform. To save yourself some time while doing laundry; any money that you got from tips were immediately taken out of your pockets and kept in your purse, which was back at your apartment right now. This money was not in your pocket before… but, whatever higher being placed it there for you would be getting plenty of praise and thanks later on as you fell asleep in a cheap and warm motel bed for the night.

The room had two single beds, and the water here was lukewarm at best, but you had never been more thankful to have a somewhat heated shower in your entire life, than you were right now. It could have been freezing cold for all you cared, you were just incredibly grateful to be able to fully wash off the parting gift of grime and filth that Meteor City left on you.

As you hummed a tune and worked the fragrant motel shampoo through your roots, you knew that while this moment of peace was delightful–you couldn’t relax just yet. Tonight was a privilege, you didn’t know if inns or rest stops would be as easy to come by, like this one had been, as your journey home continued. Not to mention the lucky coins appearing in your pocket, would you have to pick up a part time job somewhere to afford transport fees later on? After such an exhausting day, you wanted to at least try and relax, to avoid thinking about stressful matters such as this before the actual treachery of your trip ensued.

Instead, you chose to live in this moment as immersively as possible. You relished in the feeling of weight being lifted off of your scalp as the shampoo scrubbed out the debris, appreciating the relief that it brought. Then you prepared your conditioner slowly, taking your sweet time as you worked it through your ends. You wished this could last forever, if forever meant confining you to this bathroom in exchange for Chrollo never being able to track or find you. Though all good things must come to an end, so when your hands began to prune like raisins and the air became a bit constricted from the steam, you turned the water off and wrapped yourself up in a bunch of towels. You shivered from the further drop in temperature as you stepped onto the bathmat, remaining there for quite some time until your trembling ceased, keeping your eyes shut and letting the towels warm and comfort you until you were effectively air dried.

Unfortunately, there was no second miracle of the night with new clothes magically being provided to you, so you had the option of either changing back into your work uniform, or hoping your towel would stay wrapped as you got under the sheets. You decided on the latter, as going back into your outfit would have rendered your memorable shower meaningless.

You unravelled the towel that had wound your hair up, dropping it on the floor and using the dryer that hung from the wall until your hair was more damp than soaked. Usually you’d be more cautious of sleeping with wet hair at all, and would dry it completely. Your mother, friends, coworkers, always warned you of how harmful it could be to let even the slightest dampness remain overnight, but in your current situation, you were just happy to know you’d be sleeping with a pillow under your head in the first place.

Turning the bathroom light off after you were finished, you wrapped another towel around your shoulders for some extra warmth while the other stayed around you, tied at your chest. You tried to fight off a yawn to no avail as you shuffled over to one of the beds, your exhaustion obvious as sleep became imminent. Your arms felt like jelly as you untucked the comforter and sheet, sliding under them and instantly finding a comfortable position to fall asleep in. Frailty from everything that your body had just been put through allowed you to rest for the night, succumbing to a slumber the very moment your eyes closed.

Waking up the next day was strange. Being supported by a mattress was lovely, and your reintroduction to consciousness allowed you a few seconds of blissful forgetfulness as you slowly came to. As far as you knew, you had just woken up from your morning nap after work and were ready to get some tasks done for the day. But as you writhed in a stretch, everything came back. No, all of what had just happened was not just a bad dream.

You didn’t know what time it was either, which only disoriented you further. You had no phone to check, and no watch or clock in the room anywhere to show you. The idea of leaving this bed could have made you cry, but you knew that you couldn’t stay in one place for too long in these circumstances. You begrudgingly sat up, rubbing your eyes and hunching over as you mustered the strength to throw your legs over the side of the bed to stand up. As you did, you noted that the towels you wore stayed on through the night, an indication of how solid you must have slept.

Walking over to where you had thrown your uniform the night before, you stared it down while fearing the idea of putting it back on–the junkyard scent that still lingered on the material served as a reminder of where you had just escaped from. With no other choice, you slowly changed into it, wishing that wearing a towel dress in public was socially acceptable to save you from that reminder.

Thinking about parting with the clean towels had you wondering if you could sneak one out with you as you set off. You’d definitely have to deal with that pesky receptionist asking what you were doing with it, since you had to go see him anyway. Not only to return your room key, but also to ask what time it was. As much as you wanted to procrastinate on this interaction after the way your last one went, you knew that too much time was passing and you had to get moving. Keeping one of the towels folded in your arm, you left your room, embracing the soft breeze of the somewhat fresh air as it cooled your face and blew your hair.

Inhaling softly, you opened the door to reception and cringed at what was coming next; probably a huge eye roll and no show of thanks as you returned your key. The door shut behind you, and what you hadn’t expected was for the receptionist to be standing there facing you, already staring with his hands folded behind him and a wide grin on his lips. Since you were still annoyed with his lack of empathy the night before, you hadn’t planned to go into this too kindly, but the intensity of his smile had you mirroring him subconsciously.

“Here’s the key,” you stated, dropping it on the desk and waiting for his response. He only blinked–with one eye at a time–which unnerved you greatly. Was this some kind of sarcastic retaliation to show that he was still annoyed with you from yesterday? Whether he was being petty or not, you didn’t want to waste more time here than you already had. “Could I ask what time it is?”

“It’s time to go back home” he whispered, voice quiet and syllables muffled under his breath. You mistook this as some kind of inn-culture joke. Like, obviously you’d be going home after staying in a motel!

You chuckled, a bit fakely to appease him, while waiting for him to actually tell you the time. But when he continued to stare and not say a word, your smile started to fall and your brief laugh tapered off into silence. Okay…you get it, he’s bothered by you. Asking for the time would be your last question for him, then you could leave and part ways for good. Why was he dragging this out?

You were about to repeat yourself, saying Can you just tell me? When his next move caught you off guard. You flinched back as his face fell expressionless and he collapsed forward, straight for his desk– he had gone unconscious. Rushing over, you leaned atop the desk’s edge to see him; how his arms had stopped him from falling to the floor entirely and surrounded his head, but his legs contorted beneath him, they looked broken. From such a slight fall? The sight was frightening, and you were about to back away to look for help, when you noticed something that you hadn't seen initially. There was something sticking out of the back of his neck…was that… an antenna?

“I heard how impolite he was to you last night. Chivalry truly is dead in today’s day and age, isn’t it?”

That voice was all too familiar, and it certainly didn’t come from the receptionist. You snapped back to stand up straight and try to turn around, but you did not expect your back to collide with someone’s chest. His hands found your hips, effectively stilling you before they slid along your waist, meeting to clasp over your abdomen. You looked down, recognizing and hating how Chrollo’s hands were ingrained in your memory from the countless times you’d held and caressed them before.

Rather than experience dread and paralysis upon your first meeting like you would have expected (sure, you’d love to lie and say that you wouldn’t ever get caught, you never expected a first meeting. But you knew this would happen, didn’t you?) you only felt defeat. His chin pressed into your shoulder and you cowered, the gentle exhale from his nose tickling your cheekbone.

“Why did you run?”

Of course he didn’t seem mad at you. All he ever had for you was patience and understanding. This almost made you feel worse, like you were a rebel acting out against a caretaker who wasn’t mad at you, just disappointed. You didn’t know how to answer him, but thankfully he continued before you could.

“I knew that you would try to, It’s a natural reaction to have in a situation such as this. I just want to know why…did I do something wrong?”

Was he being serious right now?!

“I paid for your rent…I made food for you, no expenses paid on your part. I did this all without complaint, because I wanted to. How else do you think you were able to afford a room here?”

So… it was him who put the coins in your pocket? You had him to thank for a restful night after, causing you so much grief to begin with.

“As my soulmate, you deserve the finest. So what is it?” He spun you around in his grasp, embracing you face to face. He was looking right into your eyes, though his appearance caught you off guard; his usual head cloth was lacking, revealing some type of cross tattoo, and his hair was styled back rather than down. He’d never appeared to you this way before–it made you nervous, it had you squirming away but he only squeezed you closer, fingertips caressing you as he held on.

You were at a loss for words, heart thumping too loudly in your ears for you to even hear your own thoughts. His eyes seemed so sad, like he was on the verge of tears.

“Did you think that after doing all of that, I would just let my soulmate go?” his eyes hardened then, tone dropping a few decibels as if it were only meant for both of you to hear. Nobody else was around to save you, anyway, yet it still sent a chill down your spine.

You shook your head, not knowing what else to say. Your throat felt like it was full of thorns as you swallowed, eyes welling with hot tears as the reality of this situation dawned on you.

He didn’t say anything else, only gazing at you for a moment longer before placing a hand on the back of your head to pull you into him fully, pressing it into his chest while his other arm was secure around your waist. You trembled softly, like a mouse caught in a trap, being loomed upon impendingly by its predator. That wasn’t too far off from the truth, was it? Chrollo had a way of hunting you this entire time, even letting you have some time to yourself before making it known that he could have taken you back whenever he saw fit. If only he had given you some more time.

“Did this teach you a lesson, about how it’s useless to try and run?” He whispered the last part right next to your ear, lips tickling your skin as he nipped at the lobe softly, pulling away with it in his teeth until it couldn’t follow anymore, and nuzzled his cheek into yours.

The closeness and intimacy of what he was doing, mixed with the implications behind everything he said, had you flustered and panicking. You whimpered as you tried to wriggle away from his grasp, and astonishingly, he let you out. Your body flew back into the reception desk from the force in your movements, you winced from the sharp surface digging into your spine. You braced yourself and tried to find stable footing as the tears that streamed down your cheeks began to impair your vision. Chrollo remained in his place, watching you with sympathy written across his features, moving his hands to rest in his coat pockets.

“If I let you go right now, let you run as far as you liked, or even paid for your transportation; you know what would happen, don’t you?” His head teetered to one side, giving him a flair of condescendence that made you feel utterly stupid. You shut your eyes, unable to keep looking at such an expression and absorbing such an aura that only made you feel so, so bad about yourself. He was surely convinced that he was entirely justified in every aspect of this situation, completely civil in how he was handling everything. He spoke again, and this time his voice was a step closer, making you tense and screw your eyes shut even tighter.

“Tell me what would happen.”

You shook your head, the only verbal response you offered being a choked out sob. You raised a shaky hand to wipe your tears away, blinking your eyes open in an attempt to clear them, to gain some form of solidity in this.

It was when Chrollo’s hand romantically lifted towards your face that an idea came to you. Ever the amorous, the poet that he was, surely if you had expressed your perspective to him in some kind of fairy-tale-esque device, he would be more understanding of you. Of why he was not in the right here, and how what he did was not the only realistic solution.

You stopped him, daring to press your palm to his, fingers quivering as you held him there. You sniffled before looking up, your voice breaking as you chose your next words slowly and methodically.

“If you truly love me the way you claim to, as my soulmate…you should let me go.”

As you tried to gauge a reaction from his unchanging expression, anxiety filled your nerves. You tried to drive the point home by forcing your fingers to intertwine, clutching his hand in a (false) show of affection.

After a moment, one where he looked contemplative, he finally smiled at you. You returned his smile, thinking that your words struck something within him and that he would agree with you. Then his fingers curled around your knuckles and his hand squeezed yours with such bone-crushing strength, you cried out and brought up your other to pry yourself out of his grip.

“Your soul is bound to mine, nothing could ever keep us apart.”

He leaned in, his nose inches from yours as he pushed your hand down and pinned it against the desk, the force in the movement making it vibrate and jolt the rest of your body.

“Even if I did let you run free, Y/N, you know that I’d find you. I will always find you.”

#✧meyou #✧musinghxhmasterlist #chrollo #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #phantom troupe #hxh #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh chrollo #hunter x hunter x reader #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x you #soulmate au

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ghostflowerhotpotch · 11 months

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How much they wanted to see each other?

Another people had made analysis, but I honestly couldn't help myself but to examine another scene, because I need to squeal at this.

While the beginning clue us in how much they miss each other (which wow, I knew Miles was crushing on Gwen since the first movie, but Gwen doesn't get behind AT ALL.) When they reunite, is very interesting.

Leaving aside that a lot of stuff changed from the teaser (because WOW, they really went and say "put the teenage crush up to 11" to both of them,) we really are sold in how much Miles is crushing on her, both from the drawings (in the notebook and the Walls, she was the first drawing and she appears the most,) and the last movie.

Gwen in contrast, comes a lot more subtle not just because Miles cannot hide his emotions for the life of him; while Gwen has issues controlling her anger, or had before, you can see that in general closes off about her feelings, and tries to not talk too much about it. In other words, she has a tendency to hide, and it is reflected on the screen.

Just as much as is shows that when she cares she can't help herself.

First When she appears, she tries to act as if is not a big deal. She is just opening a hole to create an entrance from another dimension, no biggie.

Miles barely had time to recollect himself (a lot more coherent if it was me that's for sure.) But again, I think that is to be expected.

What I like is what Gwen is doing.

The first thing she does is try to appear casual, looking around to anything in the room before him.

But the second she looks at him (and I mean SECOND, I was trying to get a decent screenshot but is hard.) she hugs him.

(We will take a moment to appreciate Miles being so out of left field he is just frozen.)

I also like to note that Gwen is probably a very physically affectionate person, or at least, someone who likes being physically affectionate with the people important to her.

We can see it with her dad in how even when things with him are tense, she doesn't hesitate to hug him because despite everything, she loves her dad.

And with the spider society being well, the spider society (That's a topic for another day and maybe not this blog,) she probably doesn't have a lot of affection these days, which makes sense go to Miles since well, she REALLY has miss him.

But I don't think she agrees with that.

Hey, remember how I was talking about how cool and collected Gwen seems at first, just to be betrayed by her own emotions because she cannot help it? This is happens often and I love it.

I think this is a good time as any as to talk about something that the movie could had done, and I am SO glad that they didn't.

Part of the reason I was lukewarm to this ship in the first movie, is that it was doing partially the very tired trope of "Dorky protagonist has a hopeless crush in the badass female co-lead and despite finding him annoying at first, they end up together."

Luckily it doesn't actually immerse into that trope and Miles has more personality than most of those archetypes; but being a super hero movie, I was kind of tired of this, and while I think Miles crush on Gwen was cute in the first movie, I didn't think they would turn around.

When the teaser dropped, I was afraid it was going to just dive in that route.

And yet, this movie does the interesting thing, by having Gwen actually lose the cool mask sometimes.

Because yes, Gwen is cool, she is awesome. She is badass and she can still, probably defeat Miles if she really wanted to; she has been a spider for longer than him so that makes sense.

However, even if she is all those things, she is still a teen, with a crush, and even her coolness cannot stop the fact that she probably doesn't know how to do this either.

I love how as much as Gwen wants to act cool, she still slips up because she probably thinks she made Miles uncomfortable by hugging him like that (he was just a slow to react, yet that would be my read if I was her.) And also because again, she knows she needs to take it easy.

I found funny how she just realizes this is his room, despite technically she giving it "a look" when she came in. Like I say, she was just trying to contain herself.

Miles being nervous about looking like a kid (valid fear considering one of the last things Gwen said to him was how she was 15 months older than him.) is normal and cute.

While I don't doubt Gwen teased Miles a little, and I still don't know what to say about the ripping scene; she sounds a lot more relaxed about the fact that one may think. I had people react badly to my fandom stuff that is often perceived as childish; so while Gwen still shouldn't had done that, it wasn't bad in my eyes.

Now let's talk about one of the favourite scenes for us shippers.

When she sees the drawings, I think she sounds a tad shocked and confuse, which is normal all things consider. What is important for me is Gwen's reaction.

THIS isn't the face of someone uncomfortable with that information.

Listen, I am not trying to shoot my own horn or anything, but when I was younger, I had people confess to me, from private to in a very public manner; and it can be extremely uncomfortable and awkward.

I had needed to find a way to keep my face neutral, and man isn't easy.

But Gwen doesn't look like she is trying to pretend everything is fine, she looks actually fine with this information.

She literally found out her friend has a stupid amount of drawings of her, imagine someone you know and who you don't have interest doing that to you.

There is no way she will be this chirpy about those drawings if she wasn't a bit happy about it.

Which is part of the reason I love this sequence, because Gwen knew Miles's crush on her from before, but it has been over a year, and you don't know how much it can change. So her initial insecurity makes sense.

And it only takes her less than 5 minutes to confirm that nope, he is still head over heels for her.

And I think getting her cool back and how she reels him in her direction show that.

Also, look at this face.

This is exactly why everyone clock's Miles feelings in 0.5 seconds, it never stops shining.

However, as much as his feelings shine through, Gwen doesn't stop showing them back constantly, as discretely as she can.

#ghostflower #gwiles #gwen stacy #miles morales #atsv spoilers #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #atvs #spiderman #spiderwoman #analysis #ghostflower files

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sarah-yyy · 7 months

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Sorry to bother you, is My journey worth watching?

what: period cdrama // completed // 24 eps, roughly 50 mins each where: iqiyi (i think most eps are still vip-locked) (standard disclaimer that i don't use eng subs so i don't speak to the quality of the subs) why: ngl, i was in it purely for zhang linghe to start, but then got !!! over cheng lei and lu yuxiao, and was too invested to quit even when the plot got sloppy. extremely gorgeous cast, extremely gorgeous set. the cinematography?? chef's kiss. you can see the budget for this show was good. the relationship between the characters? v interesting.

story revolves around the Gong family who is v prominent in jianghu even though they live up in the mountains and keep themselves sequestered away from the rest of jianghu. the Gong family itself is split into 4 different factions: Shang, Jue, Zhi, Yu.

Yu 羽 - the Yu household deals with internal affairs. the head of the Yu household is the head of the Gong family (the title is Sword Wielder or zhiren)

this is our male lead, gong ziyu (a baby). second son of the Yu household. his dad is the zhiren and his big bro (gong huanyu) is the named heir who will inherit the zhiren position. has a v lukewarm relationship with his dad. introduced as being quite useless. his martial arts is :/ and he sees no need to improve his skills etc because his brother will be there to protect him.

is quite suddenly thrust into the position of zhiren when his dad and his brother die under ~mysterious circumstances :(

Jue 角 - the Jue household deals with...external affairs, they are the ones who leave the mountain to Get Things Done outside and manage all relationships/partnerships outside

gege step on me this boy is gong shangjue, head of the jue household. he is The Man. the pride and joy of the gong family. everyone (*cough*i say everyone but really yuanzhi-didi does it enough that he counts for everyone*cough*) worships him. martial arts skills?? loyalty to the gong family?? incredibly attractive resting bitch face??? he is a 10 no matter how you assess him.

missed out on being the zhiren by virtue of him not being home when tragedy struck the old zhiren and gong ziyu's brother. doesn't think gong ziyu has what it takes to be zhiren and take care of the Gong family. my boy gong shangjue would make an Excellent zhiren tbh

do i have to seduce y'all into watching this i think i have to:

Shang 商 - the Shang household develops/produces weaponry

for most of it, the show has a p dark vibe, BUT whenever gong zishang shows up, we know we're in for some laughs. this zishang-jiejie is the eldest daughter of the head of the Shang household.

her father doesn't take her v seriously because she's a girl (also because she's always following behind gong ziyu's personal bodyguard jin fan like this: 😍💖🤞🏼; valid life choices tbh because same) but she does take her craft v seriously! ride or die for gong ziyu.

Zhi 徵 - the Zhi household develops poisons

YUANZHI-DIDI!! this boy loves two things: poisons and gege. #1 gong shangjue fanboy at least 10 years in a row. parents died when he was p young, and gong shangjue took him under his wing. whiz at poisons and v fight fight fight (ง •̀_•́)ง. is suspicious about everything and VERY protective of his gege.

alright that's the main Gong sibs all sorted. there's also an assortment of Inner Mountain (houshan) characters that are v interesting but i won't get into because 1) spoilers, 2) this post will get too long if i get to talk about hua-gongzi and xue-gongzi/xue-tongzi.

okay so the Gong family live in p much a fortress up in the mountains. no outsiders are allowed in, and only a select few are allowed out of the Gong family territory at all. we learn that this is to protect the Gong family from Wu Feng, a spy organisation which has p much taken over jianghu. Wu Feng learns that the Gong family will be holding a bride selection contest thingy for gong huanyu, and sends:

yun weishan, a low-ranking assassin in Wu Feng (Chi, the lowest out of 4 ranks chi, mei, wang, liang), disguised as a bride.

her mission is to be picked by gong huanyu as his bride, and become the next zhiren-furen so she can p much feed intel to Wu Feng. when gong huanyu and the old zhiren both croak, her attentions turn to gong ziyu who is by that point already 😍🥰😘 over her anyway NO SURPRISES. the 恋爱脑 on that boy istg, absolutely head no thoughts only yun weishan at least 20 hours in a day.

shangguan qian, a higher-ranking assassin (Mei, one rank above yws) in Wu Feng

my love my wife her mission is a little different from yws. her target isn't anyone from the Yu household but gong shangjue instead. the goal is to get her hands on this secret weapon (this is also a v HMMM part of the plot but no matter we endure what we have to) that the Gong family is safeguarding.

the relationship between these two wu feng spies is so interesting too!! they're not friends, not exactly allies, but also not quite enemies. they will help each other out if they really have to (and only if it doesn't jeopardise their own positions and there is adequate compensation), but will also not hesitate to stab each other in the backs if it serves their respective missions.

i needed like 100000 more scenes of them together ngl

ANYWAY the plot revolves around the Gong family trying to Catch The Spy, the Wu Feng spies trying to Complete Their Mission, gong ziyu trying to Prove Himself as the zhiren, and ofc there's romance sprinkled around. that's p much the gist of the show.

listen listen listen... i know this show has a bad rep in the cdrama circles, i agree. the plot is......HMM and it tries to hard to be one of those clever mysteries when it should just be what it is which is p much an idol drama?? i mean...it is a guo jingming show, we weren't going in expecting to be wowed by the plot. i think if they'd just stuck to the basics, this would have been a stronger show, but imo this wasn't bad bad. the worldbuilding was good and the characters were interesting, and like i said, the whole thing is shot really beautifully!!

the ending was......but i'll keep this spoiler free and just say that it was HMMMMM and v unnecessary what they did.

with the preface that i watched it without much expectations as to the plot, i enjoyed a lot of parts of the show! it's an incredibly easy watch, and because it's only 24 eps, the pacing is quick and conflicts don't tend to drag on for too long. if you're looking for some easy entertainment, i'd say go for it, but if you have Standards regarding plot etc, this is probably not the show for you

#tv rec #my journey to you #cdrama

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sweetest-honeybee · 2 months

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Evil X and Vespa

Summary: Based in the Hels Kitchen scene, Helsknight opts to let Evil X and our beloved Hels Beesuma (whom I’ve named Vespa) meet and it doesn’t go down the way EX intends for it to. Turns out not all Xisuma’s seem to get along with each other.

Based on this drawing

Enjoy!

—————

Most would assume Evil Xisuma was what was considered a ‘Hels’ Xisuma. The most consistently dreadful alter ego donned in red and a black visor? Surely, he must be. And yet, he isn’t. That role was given to a much, much older version of Xisuma that had existed long before Evil Xisuma was created.

And of course, Evil X was rather surprised…and envious.

Come the reveal of the realm of Hels, Evil X opted to follow Helsknight into the fiery lands where he assumed by some odd logic, or a mere assumption, that he was the only Evil Xisuma to exist. Obviously, Xisuma lied about meeting some “Evil” Evil X. Stupid! No such thing. And so, Evil X disregarded the thought that there was not an Xisuma in Hels already. And of course, he’s not going to ask.

Meeting other evil, or ‘Hels’ Hermits as Helsknight called them, was hardly on Evil X’s mind. A bonus, perhaps. His derpcoin scheme may grow easily that way if he cared to have the help but Helsknight was just enough.

Between the first invitation to Hels and the day he decided to call for Helsknight, Evil X rarely visited Hels. Very little exploration led to being very unfamiliar when he came back. Yet, many older faces he had seen, his own minions even, were sitting at the many booths and stools while he waited to start his dastardly meeting plans.

It was a simple greeting at first. He nodded as Helsknight came with a short ‘I got held up’ and the two decided it was worth getting a bite to eat while they discussed their plans. Time had passed and they found themselves talking on loose threads about anything they could after the food on their plates went a bit lukewarm (cold, maybe, but not in Hels). After a while, Evil X found himself enjoying Helsknight’s company.

“I gotta say, you’re way less boring than I thought you’d be,” he eventually chuckled, taking a small sip of his third drink of the evening. “Tell me, are all those Hels Hermits of yours like that?”

Helsknight laughs in a short ‘HA’. “No, no, they’re not. If you’ve got a Hermit you hate, chances are you won’t like the Hels.”

Evil X hums, setting the glass down. “To be fair, Wels is the one really philosophical dude, right? Takes things too seriously, I definitely don’t like him and his whole ‘knightly protection’ thing going on.” He raises his hands in air quotes as he speaks, rolling his eyes. “He hates the very definition of all evil. An absolute bore.”

As he goes on about Wels, Helsknight snorts and listens. “Hey now, I’m still his doppelganger, aren’t I? You sound just like Vespa the way you go on about Wels.”

The name earns a brief pause from Evil X as he raises a brow behind his visor. “Vespa? And they are…?”

Helsknight leans forward in disbelief, eyes widening in some kind of genuine shock. “You’re kidding right? Vespa? The Evil Xisuma of all Xisuma’s? Hels Xisuma?”

“But I’m Evil Xisuma-”

“You’re not Xisuma’s Hels, though. I’ve got no clue how exactly you must’ve been created or what but Vespa came long before you did, pal.” Helsknight almost can’t contain himself, face reddening with a wide grin. He moves to get up from the booth as Evil X watches and looks around. “Wait hold on I always see him here- Ah! Follow me.”

Evil X finds himself dragged from the booth by the wrist to the bar. Before he realizes what exactly Helsknight is showing him, his eyes fall on another man in much similar armor to Xisuma- only a dingy yellow, scuffed with scratches and chipped paint. A dull matte compared to Xisuma’s usual suit. And behind him a pair of long, thin insect-like wings. Stripes on the armor’s plating would suggest a hornet or wasp. Or of course…a bee.

The man at the bar finishes his glass- something of a strong black coffee and as much hard liquor as the ghast behind the counter would allow him. Antenna sprouting from the crown of his head perk up as Helsknight approaches to land a hard pat on his shoulder.

“Vespa! Same time as usual, huh? Figured I’d bring a friend over here for you, change the pace a little.” He offers Vespa a wink as he pulls Evil X into view. Yet, Vespa doesn’t match the widening eyes of Evil X’s red LEDs.

“You both talk very loud, Hels. I wasn’t going to let you make me spill my drink again.” Vespa lifts the now empty glass and sets it on the counter with a loud thud. He swivels his seat around, resting his elbow on the counter. “I’m beginning to feel there are too many Xisuma’s running around. One too many.” He narrows his eyes, a burning red just like Evil X’s crossed with a single thick scar on one side.

Evil X scoffs. “Alright, well you’re one to talk. I ain’t ever seen you before, so clearly you must be pretty useless yourself, huh?”

Vespa speaks simply, expression unchanging from an unimpressed scowl. “Useless? You’re a fraction of Xisuma born from a single death- an accident. I’m the world generated personification of every awful detail about the very man you seem to just barely annoy. In fact, last I checked, he even likes you.”

“Not much for small talk, are you,” the other says, already more than annoyed.

“Not my thing. My time is precious here.”

“Oh is it now-”

“Yes, and you haven’t seemed to have accomplished much in your time. Believe me, I’ve seen everything. You poor thing, Xisuma practically tucks you into bed at night now that you live together.”

“You–! I control him and he works for me. And didn’t you hear? He’s long past the whole bee thing. You’re a bit late.”

“Very impressive,” is all that Evil X gets. And oddly enough it infuriates him more past the initial sense of pride. Vespa lifts his glass again to the ghast which takes it. “Another.” It’s a long moment before he speaks again. “What does he do for you? Clearly not enough that you asked for help.”

Evil X growls, balling his hands into fists. “Oh you know,” he says through gritted teeth. “Just exploiting every Hermit on the server through a server-wide currency scheme. Care to keep answering your own questions for me since you know everything?”

“Every Hermit?” Vespa asks, finally sounding amused and ignoring the rest of Evil X’s statement. “Look at that, you can control, oh, 25? 26 people? Is this why you need help? A bit of management assistance?”

Helsknight snorts, knowing well what’s to come of the conversation. “Oh no, I’m helping him control more of them, haven’t snagged everyone just yet but we’ve got what? 5 Hermits?” All he earns from Evil X is a hard glare.

“Well, I don’t see you doing any better!” He turns to Vespa again. “Is that all you do? The big bad Xisuma from Hels sits and drinks himself to death every single day? Why don’t you get up and do something with yourself then?”

The knight grins at Evil X, glancing briefly at Vespa who chugs his next cup and swallows hard. “No,” he says.

Vespa slams down the glass this time, empty aside from the long crack that shoots up the side. The sound of the impact gets the attention of most, if not all in the bar, and Vespa stands. He’s just a few inches above Evil X and yet he towers over the man. Among the now silent bar, he speaks.

“Do you have a name, Evil Xisuma?”

Everyone waits, and Evil X swallows as his ears turn a bit red. Thankfully hidden inside his helmet. “I uh- I mean it’s. It’s Evil Xisu-”

“Is it? Is that all you’ve cared to call yourself? Nothing except a self proclaimed title that you can’t keep up with.”

“...Yes?”

Vespa scoffs. “Right. Do you know who I am, then?”

The other goes to laugh. “I’m not answering some stupid- wOAH–!” The answer is cut off by the way the ghast takes Evil X by the shoulders, dragging him to pin him down against the bar. Bent back against it. “What is this?!”

Seeing this, people begin to crowd around the trio, most serving Evil X hateful stares.

“Let me break it down for you, Evil Xisuma,” Vespa starts. “I’m sure you’re familiar with a little server where they build and play games and sing Kumbaya, but we have a system here, buddy. This is a fraction of a realm of the world's worst kinds of people and I manage a what’s practically a kingdom of many of those people. Armies of thousands that do as I say and I have grown to gain a level of respect and authority beyond what you’ll ever achieve. They fight for me.”

Evil X stares and then looks around the room. Among the many faces, Helsknight seems more than amused. Excited, even. And he swallows at the thought. These people won’t listen to him.

“O-Okay. And what about it?” He regrets asking immediately but his pride will forever be his downfall.

Vespa uses no words. A mere whistle and a nod towards Evil X and a patron approaches to remove his helmet. A second patron takes the helmet while the first reels his arm back with a tight fist, and in less than a second a hard punch throws Evil X’s head back against the counter. The action has Evil X writhing in the ghast’s tightening grip and he snarls. With the sound, he flares up in sharp red bolts that make the ghast cry out and let go.

Of course, such a varied group finds its way to keep him tied down. Quite literally. Among the crowd are summoned black thorny vines that shove him back down. Much to Vespa’s surprise even. Still, he continues.

“Care to try again?” he asks. “Such a shame, if you were just a little kinder the way you should’ve been, I might’ve helped you with your little corporate scheme.”

“Alright, alright, I’m done. Just let me go, man,” Evil X grumbles.

“I don’t think I will. Seems you like getting yourself out of your own messes so I’ll leave you to it.” Vespa turns to the crowd, a smug grin on his face. “Please, give him a warm welcome to Hels.”

#hermitcraft #evil hermits #xisumavoid #xisuma #evil xisuma #hels xisuma #vespa #my fics #I really like writing :)

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butididntpourthewhiskeys · 7 months

Text

CITYBOUND

🎧 Listen to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lby9rwBNWTY

I've been working on this silly little piece for a while, but.. well.. someone was missing 🏈 don't take this too serious and enjoy xx (P.S. no idea if this will be continued or not, just sharing with you on here)

Rain is lashing against the Victorian windows, right above the mustard-colored couch at the end of the generous living room. A vanilla bean candle right over the fireplace is still burning from earlier this morning. Earlier, when Taylor had to get herself to wake up before dawn. Earlier, when she needed a cozy environment to have her coffee at this ungodly hour.

She takes a sip from her lukewarm coffee mug.

Snack box, water bottle, pencil case, and the coloring book. She takes one last look inside the little turtle backpack in front of her. She didn't forget to add the little Polaroid in the tiny, purple, plushy heart frame that shows her and Eleanor all cuddled together. It's a picture, small but meaningful enough, to let Eleanor take with her whenever she separates from Taylor for a while. It's not a memory, more a reassurance for her. A reminder, that mommy loves her. That no matter what, mommy will be there, ready to pick her up at the end of the day.

Taylor makes sure that the little post on the back of the tiny frame is sticking. A little message for Eleanor's kindergarten teacher to read for her.

My sweet angel Eleanor, I hope you will have the most magical first day at your new kindergarten. I can't wait to hear about your day! I love you so much. Mommy.

Taylor makes sure to place the frame on the very top department of the small bag, then zips up the small backpack.

"Honey, we need to leave soon. Did you find your hair clip?" she just yells up the stairs, almost stumbles over Benjamin who appears to be sitting right in the doorframe between the kitchen and hallway of this big New York apartment. As always. These cats always need to be in the way, especially on stressful mornings like these. Apologetically, Taylor crouches down once, caresses the cat's head and continues walking towards her little daughter's room. Just a few minutes ago, she convinced Taylor that she will choose the hair clip she wants Taylor to put into her hair this morning. But now, instead of going through her little jewelry box (which consists of 85% cat-themed hair clips and bracelets), the five-year-old is sitting right behind the big and cozy chair at the end of her room.

Taylor knows how nervous the little girl is. And she wishes she could take this from her. She wishes she could go through this very first day at her very new kindergarten for her, but she can't.

The blonde woman takes a few steps closer to her daughter. In her burgundy boots and in her black wool dress, she crouches down slightly, just watches her little daughter focus anxiously on the doll in her hand.

Taylor just sighs. She doesn't need to say anything. She knows. She can feel the anxiety radiating from her. With her left hand, Taylor just slowly caresses the soft and chubby cheek.

"Are you nervous?" she whispers, more like a statement and less like a question. Eleanor nods. She's brave. Taylor expected tears this morning. At least. But Eleanor is brave. She has gotten dressed almost all by herself already. A big girl. She could never find words to describe how proud she is to be her mother. How proud she is to see this little girl go through life, at just five years old.

"Mommy, I don't want to go," she whispers then, and Taylor sighs again. She doesn't know what to say. Feelings from her own childhood come back up. Her biggest fear until today is Eleanor being a target in school or having to endure a similar treatment as Taylor did at a young age. But not allowing her to go out there and make these crucial experiences would be just as bad. She has to be the tough mom now. She has to make her go to this new kindergarten.

"I know, baby. I know. Come here, can I get some cuddles?" she whispers. She knows Eleanor is in need of some proximity now, but Taylor is just as much. She grabs the big baby, realizes once more how heavy she's gotten because she is, in fact, not a baby anymore. With Eleanor clinging onto Taylor like a monkey, Taylor slowly gets up, rubs her small back up and down. She naturally presses her nose into Eleanor's curly hair, breathes her baby in a few times.

"I don't want to go, mommy," she mumbles again. This time, Taylor can sense a whiny undertone. She knew these tears would come this morning. And that's okay. "You know what? I think once you're there, and we've met your teacher and your classmates, you will be actually happy to be there." Taylor tries, putting on her most excited and happy voice possible.

"I have already packed your bag, and your teachers actually told me that you will be painting today, so I also got you some new watercolors. Because I know how much you love painting, baby. I'm sure you will have so much fun and have so many new friends when you come home." Eleanor has slowly pulled back, her chin trembling a little bit. She's still hyperfocused on the little doll in her hand. Taylor can't help but smile at the little pout. She's literally a miniature version of herself sometimes. A crazy feeling.

"Oh my love..." she sighs, her lips already on the small forehead again. "Mommy will come with you for now. And we will meet everyone together, okay? And then it's just one hour without mommy for today. Just a few minutes. And then I will pick you up, and we will get pizza together with grandma and grandpa. We can also get some ice cream. Does that sound good?" Eleanor just shakes her head. Taylor tries to take it easy.

"Let's go with the Meredith hair clip? You love this one!" Taylor says, has already let her big baby onto the floor again and reaches for Eleanor's favorite hair clip on the carpet. It's a little cat face on a hairpin of a cat that looks just like Mer. She knows that not even the Meredith hair clip can get the little pout out of her daughter's face this morning. But that's just what motherhood is like sometimes. You just got to get on with it. You just got to be tough sometimes. Taylor reaches for the little wild curl on Eleanor's head and carefully clips in the hair clip. She looks absolutely adorable. A little red corduroy romper covering her body, and the softest purple glitter tights covering her little legs. Taylor presses one last kiss onto the little stubborn cheek.

"Come on, baby. Let's get going."

"I think it's fine for you to leave now," the small woman from the kindergarten staff next to Taylor whispers into the singer's ear. Taylor tries not to make any sound, just to ensure that Eleanor won't notice her leaving. The children are sitting in a circle, presenting their paintings of sea animals that they just worked on. Eleanor was very clingy these first few minutes, but Taylor is proud of how much she's come out of her shell already. Not only did she muster the courage to ask the little boy next to her if she could borrow some of his blue paint, but she also seems to have gotten along very well with her teacher so far, even giving her a hug after the first initial introduction. Taylor is relieved. She smiles thankfully at the lady next to her, then slowly tiptoes out of the classroom. She shouldn't have worn boots with heels. She should've known how difficult it would be to sneak out of this classroom. As soon as the woman behind her closes the door, Taylor smiles at her one last time, then steals a last look at Eleanor. She takes a deep breath. She hopes this will be a good new beginning for her. A good new beginning in this city.

Taylor now casually makes her way through the hallway, reaches for her phone in her bag. She just wants to know if any paparazzi have followed them or not. Surely, Brandon would have warned her in advance. But instead of seeing a text from her security, she finds a different text from a different person. A person whose text forces her to smile quietly.

Turns out food safety is another argument for me to just stay a DoorDash Premium member…

Taylor has to cover her mouth as she clicks on the image he just sent her. He took a selfie of himself in front of his stove. The salmon in his pan is burned. To say the least. A black coat of burned oil is covering the fish. This idiot. She can't believe it. Just when she's about to text him back, she shrugs. He's calling her. His name in big bold letters on her phone.

"Hey, chef," she teases as she picks up, can already hear his gentle laugh at the end of the phone line, his voice as dark and rusty as she remembers it. And it does something to her. Something she's oh so familiar with. She's still standing in this kindergarten hallway, just amusedly holds her phone to her ear. Looking around this building, it baffles her how tiny everything is. Tiny chairs in a tiny room. The smell of disinfectant and hot chocolate in the air. Her absolute dream.

"Hey, stranger," he answers her, a laugh also escaping his mouth. She can't tell if he's being nervous or if his little laugh is a reaction to her actually being funny. It's a dynamic with him that she's not really familiar with. He by far is the most confident man she's ever seen, yet her little remark at the beginning of the call really wasn't that comedic after all.

"How's the shrimp pasta coming along?" Taylor says, still standing awkwardly in the school hallway, her gaze now on one of the children's paintings framed on the wall. A five-year-old has painted a whole zoo. The dimensions of the giraffe in comparison to the tiger are clearly off and it makes her smirk while holding her phone to her ear.

"Well, I can confidently say that this has been by far the most disgusting meal I've ever had," he says in a serious tone that makes her giggle. He's weird. Refreshingly weird.

"You tried, okay. That counts for something."

"I guess," he says, and suddenly it gets quiet. She swallows once, can hear him open his mouth once, then stop himself from further talking.

"So..."

"So?" she repeats after him.

"How was the first day of kindergarten for your baby girl?" he asks then, and Taylor smiles. This definitely has been a weird topic between them, and she can't shake it off. It's the first time she's seeing someone, even just casually, after spending years of her life trying to get it right with Eleanor's dad. It's the first time she's navigating getting to know a stranger while keeping him at a good distance from her baby.

"It was… surprisingly good so far," Taylor says, her eyes already looking back at the classroom she just sat in for a while. It's hard to picture Eleanor turning around in the next hour, only to find that mommy has left. Taylor swallows. Hopefully, she will be too distracted to even have this thought.

"Just a few tears this morning, but she's had a blast painting with the other kids. I'm really relieved so far," she says, can already hear him smile at the end of the line.

"I'm glad. It's a big deal for her, at that age."

"Yeah, for sure," Taylor replies. She appreciates his words, yet she's very well aware that he has no idea what he's talking about.

"What's new with you? Besides the cooking," she asks then, deciding to make her way out of the building to get some fresh air. As soon as she takes a step onto the autumnal sidewalk in the heart of Gramercy, she can see her security guard signaling her to get into the big black car at the side of the street. She just shakes her head. No one is on the street. And she really wants to soak in just a few minutes of the now oh so weak sun rays of Fall in New York.

"Nothing is exciting. Just practice. Got my massage this morning. Got my car checked earlier today, too."

His mundane speech is interrupted by Taylor laughing out loud. It immediately brings a smile to his face.

"Could you be any more Midwestern?"

Travis laughs with her for a second. She does have a point.

"Hey, don't forget where you come from, missy." He jokes, as Taylor starts talking again.

"What is it like getting massages for a living?" she says, clearly amused by his daily schedule. She can't imagine getting a muscle massage every single day. But then also, she can't imagine working out for a living - every single day.

"Not as great as you think it is."

Silence comes back for a second. But this time, it's a different kind.

"Well, I'll be in New York on Saturday for a day. I'd be very happy to extend that trip for another night and demonstrate to you what type of massages actually live up to the hype…"

Taylor stands there in her wool coat, long blonde hair over her shoulders, arms crossed and her mouth slightly open. She's shocked. To say the least. But it also makes her stomach and the lower region of her abdomen tingle. Flashbacks of the past weeks in bed with him slowly come up, and she can't believe how blunt he is about it.

"Wow, a massage? That's how you're trying to get me laid?"

"Travis laughs nervously at her, and she can't say she doesn't do the same. What she would give to have that massage right here, right now. An interesting development of the past weeks. He's awakened a physical hunger in her that she hasn't known in years. Maybe it's his height and the fact that his physical appearance could knock her over in a second. Maybe it's because he triggers a fundamental, primal response in her nervous system with his huge hands, his dark voice, and his physical predominance. She needs to have him. She needs to feel his weight on her under any circumstances. She swallows.

"I'm just offering you my services, baby."

His smugness frustrates her. She smiles. Never in a lifetime did she think this would ever work on her again.

"You do realize, though, that I have a kid? I can't... I can't just be gone for the night, Travis. Last time was different because I was gone for work, but..."

"Hey, I get it. Your baby always comes first. How about you get yourself a babysitter, we spend a few hours together, and you'll be home before your daughter wakes up again."

She nods. He's not wrong. Even though she's a mother now does not mean she shouldn't go out, date. Just live a little. Taylor sighs. The fresh wind bracing her face. She closes her eyes for a second. Mascara on her eyelashes. The warmth of the sun on her face. She smiles slowly.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I... I'll find a way."

He smiles, laughs slowly.

"Alright then," he says in his southern accent. She rolls her eyes. What is she doing?! "I'll text you my schedule later. Can't wait."

She doesn't say anything further.

"Speak soon."

"No, he's a... horse. A f..." she keeps her lips from cursing for a second, remembers that her child is right next to her. Ashley just amusedly watches her pass the mug of hot chocolate to Eleanor. The little blonde girl struggles not to spill the drink. After all, this green mug is half the size of her head. Taylor sits down next to the little girl on the kitchen stool, both hands still securely around the beverage, helping her take a sip from the hot drink.

"I mean, he's a literal... Midwestern gorilla. It's just..."

Ashley starts laughing again, just amusedly takes another sip from her coffee. Eleanor didn't seem interested in anything her mom has said so far. Just now is when she signals Taylor she's had enough sips from her cup for now, then looks up at Taylor with a hot chocolate mustache.

"A gorilla?"

Taylor also has to laugh at Eleanor's reaction. Her left hand already playing with one of the little curly pigtails on her head.

"Yeah, a gorilla. In the zoo. Where... where you went with grandpa to in Nashville, remember?" she says, has clearly had lots of practice making sure that the five-year-old won't understand what this conversation really is about. Ashley still giggles at Taylor and her daughter. She's being unbelievable sometimes.

"He's not, Tay. Just because he's not..."

Ashley looks at Eleanor, who is freeing herself from Taylor's grip and makes her way out of the kitchen. It seems the two women have successfully bored the little girl to death. "Just because he's not B-R-I-T-I-S-H and comes with an anxiety disorder and an English degree doesn't mean he's dumb."

Taylor places her cup on the kitchen table in front of her. She sighs. Ashley is right. Everyone is right. Her behavior towards Travis is pretty unfair. All she does is go around, telling people how uninterested she is in him, simply because he doesn't measure up to her standards in men. Standards that have led her to be a single mom in her thirties. Clearly, she's in the wrong here.

"I know. I know, it's just..."

She sighs, looking back at her friend again. "He's not my type. Like... not at all."

"Oh, we've been knew," the blonde small woman says, making Taylor break a laugh too.

"But first of all, the sex..."

Taylor has lowered her voice at the end of the sentence, just to ensure her daughter won't hear any of this. "And then besides the mind-blowing sex, he also, he just... he makes some charming points." she adds, and Ashley smiles. It's been a while since she's seen Taylor like this. She acts like she's too cool for Travis, but there's something about him that still makes her giddy, overthinking every interaction, calling her up on a Thursday afternoon to come over and listen to her. It reminds her a lot of who her friend was ten years ago. Years before she met Joe, started a family with him, and found herself in the most isolating situation for a good half of these years. She loves seeing her like this again. She loves witnessing how she's testing the waters once more. Especially when her counterpart does nothing but worship the ground she walks on. It's what she deserves. It really is.

"He does. And you smile a lot lately." Ashley adds, can see Taylor blushing. She gets shy all of a sudden, then shakes her head enthusiastically.

"Well, the sex..."

"I'm not convinced it's just that."

Taylor giggles.

"Whatever. For now, there's nothing more. And that's what we agreed on. I won't bring Eleanor into a situation where..."

Taylor doesn't need to say more. If she knows one thing about Taylor, it's that she will forever be Eleanor's mom first. She's an excellent mother. Never in a million years would she do anything that could harm her child. One of the things Ashley and everyone else admires so much about her.

"Hey, listen to me." Ashley grabs her friend's hand. She's forced to look at her for a second. That look on her face will forever be something she can't ever forgive Joe for. That insecure look, that uncertainty, that self-doubt.

"You deserve this. You deserve to meet new people, have some fun, not think too much. You can... you can be a great mother while still letting go a little."

Taylor nods. She lets those words sink in for a second, just looks down at her coffee cup, then strokes a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. It's been a while since someone has said this to her. It's been a while since she had allowed herself to even think of opening up to someone again.

"I know." she says then. Her hand now over Ashley's. "Thanks. For... for everything." she says then. Ashley smiles, pulls her in for a gentle hug.

"No need to say thanks, Tay. It's the truth. Enjoy this. This is good for you. Blake literally said to me last week that she thinks this is a good idea. He's charming, he's kind... just... roll with it. And obviously, I'll be your babysitter on Saturday."

Taylor giggles for a second, then ends the hug again.

"Well, thanks so much. And it's great you are all so talkative when it comes to my sex life." she jokes.

"The things we do to get you laid." she jokes. Taylor just rolls her eyes laughing, was about to add something to what Ash just says as little steps are audible in the big kitchen. She feels a hand pulling on her skirt. Ashley immediately turns around to find the little girl standing next to her with a piece of paper. It's astonishing sometimes how much she looks like Taylor. Big blue eyes, blonde curls, and the same laugh as her mother.

"Look, I did this for you." she says proudly. Taylor laughs, and Ashley covers her mouth in shock. "You painted this for me, angel?"

Eleanor nods proudly.

"This is beautiful. Oh my gosh. Is that me?"

Taylor quietly watches the interaction between Eleanor and Ashley. The little girl in her sweater with a panda on the chest crawls up on the chair next to Ashley and starts explaining her painting in great detail. Taylor is glad that Eleanor's spirits are so high after her first day at Kindergarten. She came home completely exhausted but happy, took a long nap, and woke up wanting to continue painting. Just like she did with her teachers today. Taylor smiles at the two next to her, suddenly sees her phone screen lighting up again. The third time today.

"Oh, this is a nice room." she gushes, walking up to the big window front facing Central Park from the 49th floor. It's dark outside, has started raining a while back. Central Park looks like a big dark cloud from up here. Nothing but dark green trees, some lanterns in between lighting the urban forest up like starlights. She gasps for a second. The sight of Columbus Circle right underneath her looks phenomenal. Almost absurd. She's so high above the city that this massive street looks like a tiny Lego street. One that Eleanor plays with at home. A miniature version of the real world. A nice thought to think that this is what reality really is from up here.

"Are you being sarcastic?" she can hear the big man laugh behind her. She turns around for a second, witnesses him turning on the little side lamp by the end of the room.

"Why do you think that?" she asks, an undertone of offensiveness in her. Does he really think she's too snobbish for a five-star hotel?

Travis looks back at her, and it takes a second of his grin to make her understand. This is one of the games he loves to play with her. He loves to tease, he loves to fight her with little things like these. Because at the end of the day, Taylor is convinced that he knows. He knows that none of this matters to her. It never really did.

"I'm just messing with you." he says underneath his smiling breath then, makes her way up to where she's standing. He's so close, and Taylor can not just see that in their reflection in the window in front of her. She can feel his breath on her side. His cologne in her nose. It's quiet in the room. Quiet between them, for the first time tonight. Dinner was fun. Lots of chatting and lots of wine. She likes his presence. She can't deny that. Even though they couldn't be more different from one another in the way they chose to live their lives.

"This is so beautiful." she whispers then. Her chest is rising. She can't dare turn around, knows exactly what is going to happen in this room tonight. The anticipation of his touch lingers in the air impatiently. And then he just does it. He just allows his chest to gently touch her small frame. His mouth close to her ear over her long blonde hair. His left hand reaching for hers."

“Do you see this building back there? With the tinted windows? Like, right between the two black towers?”

Taylor nods, doesn’t listen to anything he says. All she is focused on, is his mouth by her ear, and his hand that’s slowly but surely intertwining with his. She swallows. Unspeakable thoughts in the back of her mind.

“I had my very first interview in there, with my brother. Like, actual interview with Vanity Fair. I was so proud when I walked into that building back then. You have no idea.”

She listens to every word he says, just closes her eyes gently. He buries is face in her hair, comes closer until he finds the sweet spot between her ear and neck. A gentle kiss resulting in her stomach doing flips. She parts her lips again, decides to turn around within a split second. She looks at him, deep into his eyes. He’s so big. Her arms barely reach for his neck. She always forgets just how tall and trained he is. A quality about him she’s never had with any other man before. Maybe that’s why she’s addicted to their physical chemistry? Maybe this is why she can’t not stop talking to this man. This man who is so different from anyone she’s ever been involved with before.

“Kiss me.” she whispers underneath her breath. It’s a quiet whisper. A request, a need that just splurged out of her. An instinct in her taking over. He smiles, seems to notice the same. He doesn’t hesitate for a second, slowly plants his lips on her red lips. He couldn��t care less about her lipstick. It’s quite the opposite. He wants her to leave her trace on him. He wants her to leave a stain on his beard. A reminder of the pleasure she’s given to him.

Travises hand wanders up and down her back, the ends of her hair touching his arm. She moans quielty into the kiss for a second. She tastes the same as last week. Vanilla. Everything about her smells like vanilla. A fucking drug that keeps on working on him.

She slowly pulls back, her hands still in his neck, playing slightly with his ears. She licks her lower lip once, subconsciously, and it does things to him he can’t explain.

“Can we..”

She doesn’t end her sentence. Her gaze that has fallen onto the bed behind him. He knows exactly what she’s getting at. Travis doesn’t loose proximity to her, just starts laughing.

“How about, we sit down and have a conversation instead?”

The blonde woman in his arms looks at him in disbelief for a second. He starts laughing, and so does she.

“I’m joking.” he says then, and she rolls her eyes. He’s good. He’s really good and she will give him that.

Travis steals her cheek one last kiss, then slowly lets go off her. Taylor doesn’t speak, just feels the dizziness in her head from the kiss before. She feels like she’s in trance whenever they touch. A sexual energy between them that she’s never felt before. It’s taunting. It’s addictive. A form of lust that overcomes her and is hard to stop. She slowly sits down on the side of the bed in her back little dress. She watches him press a button at the end of the room and slowly but surely the electric curtains in the bedroom close. The city disappears slowly. Instead, all there is left is him and her, in this room. In this bed.

With one grip, she’s slipped of the Louboutin heels from her feet and looks back at him. He takes off his expensive watch and places it on the bedside table next to him, then looks at her with a shy smile. Something about this gesture almost makes her abdomen tingle even more.

“Is it weird that we basically spent more time having sex today than actually doing something else together whilst you’re in the city?” she breaks the silence between them. Travis chuckles once, takes off his blazer and unbuttons his white shirt. His muscular chest is exposed now. Taylor swallows.

“Turn around and let me open your dress.” he says confidently, sitting right next to her on the side of the bed. Taylor giggles. She won’t get an answer to her question anymore. And why would she? It was a stupid question. So stupid when there’s this energy between them. A physical need. Not a want. A need.

She feels his lips on her neck. A gentle touch. So gentle that it almost hurts. She closes her eyes, the sound of the zipper of her dress audible in the air. After a few seconds, his lips let go off her skin and Taylor can feel her dress falling off her shoulder. Being nakes has always been such a holy grail for her. A sacred state of being that only few people on this earth have been privy of. She slowly gets up, doesn’t need to move a lot to feel the dress falling from her body and right onto her bare feet. She’s standing right in front of him now. Naked. Nothing but her thong covering her body. He looks up at her body, two big hands on her waist now. He feels the same. She can tell in the way his eyes are begging her in this moment.

“Beautiful. Just..”

He doesn’t need to say anything else. His face pressed into her bare stomach. His kisses making it hard for her to breath. She closes her eyes again. Her small hands on his short hair. His scalp. His shoulders. She wants him everywhere. She wants to jump off a cliff, right now, and jump into the ocean with him. The ocean in his eyes that she could drown into.

“Lay down for me, baby.”

She doesn’t need him to say it twice. She slowly moves with him, the back of her head gladly finding the big soft pillow on the hotel bed. Travis just smiles at her. She does, too. A rush of insecurity overcoming her. But he won’t allow it. Within a minute his weight is on hers, and Travis makes sure to kiss her in the most passionate way he knows. His hand wandering up and down her body. She needs him. She really does. He can feel the sensation in her panties. He slowly ends the kiss, wanders down her throat and up to her chest. He slowly moves down, keeping eye contact with her.

“Is it okay if I..”

“Yes.” she breathes heavily, her eyes focused on the way he kisses her inner thighs. She can’t remember the last time she’s been so out of breath. She wants this. She wants this so badly. Her eyes are closing softly and her hands finally find his head. And then it’s there. The most satisfying sensation in the world. His tongue doing its magic. His hands are everywhere. She opens her eyes once, could swear she’s seeing stars on the ceiling, then closes them again. She needs no eyes in the moment. The only thing she needs is this feeling.

Just this feeling.

She looks back at him, then laughs again and makes sure to spread both legs and arms as much as she physically can. It’s warm in here. It’s hot. Her bangs sticky against her forehead. She needs to cool down, doesn’t mind her thigh now laying directly over his. Who needs a blanket when it’s so sweaty in this room.

“God, that.. that last thing you did. When you.. when you turned around in the end..” she mumbles, feels him turning to the side. He’s still as naked as she is. His big hand slowly wanders to her stomach. He loves listening to her talk. He loves how she rambles after sex. The skin on her stomach so soft under his fingertips.

“God that was so good.”

He smiles.

“You liked that?” he asks quietly, and she nods. She appreciates his hand drawing circles on her stomach. She turns her head to him again. This time, he can see it clearly. She’s sweaty. Her cheeks a bit redder than per usual. She’s her truest self in this moment. Exhaustion taking over her body.

“Yeah that felt so good. Gosh.” she gushes, and it makes him smile. He loves that he’s good at this. He loves that he knows how to pleasure her.

“You’re.. you’re something else.” he mumbles then, right into the skin on her bare shoulder. She laughs. Her hand now on top of his. He seems exhausted, too. And it feels so right. Sleeping with him, being naked with him, indulging in her fantasies with him has never felt so right with anyone.

“We’re good at this. Really good.”

“One could say we’re excellent.”

“The best. Clearly at the top of our game.”

Taylor turns her head to the side again, starts laughing with him. They both know that this is what people have been saying recently. Two winners, both at the top of their game in their industries. And it’s not wrong. They have these certain similarities. Competitiveness. A drive.

Taylor’s giggles slowly fizzle out. It’s quiet again. She’s still staring at the ceiling with a relaxed look on her face. He watches her. She doesn’t move at all. His hand still stroking up and down her stomach. He can feel the little scar close to her abdomen, gently runs his fingers up and down. He knows exactly where that scar is coming from. He knows exactly how much this beautiful, soft, strong body has been through. Childbirth just one detail of her body’s life before him. Before he got a taste of it.

“I’ll.. I’ll go pee quickly.” she mumbles then, slowly untwines herself from him. He watches her sit up at the side of the bed. He can see her hesitating for a second whether she should reach for her dress on the floor. He grins when she decides to just get up and make her way into the little bathroom by the end of the suite. She closes the door. He turns around, takes a deep breath. This time it’s him facing the ceiling.

“Okay, but like.. what is the craziest thing you’ve done before? Or maybe crazy is the wrong word. Just.. what is the most spontaneous thing you’ve done?” Travis asks her. He’s still sitting in bed with her. Shorts covering his body and the pizza box he ordered before on his lap. He looks at the blonde woman next to him, enjoys seeing her so focused on inhaling the slice she just reached for. They’ve ordered at her favourite pizza place in New York. She insisted on convincing him that New York really does have the best fast food in the country.

“Spontaneous as in… sexy, or?”

He chuckles, looks up at her amusedly. How can anyone look so good after sex? Her hair is a bit curlier than before, but she looks incredible. It’s safe to say that she’s not aware how attractive she is. And Travis would know. He’s been with different woman who clearly were very much aware of their looks. Taylor is not. And maybe, just maybe, this is what makes this so magical with her. Everytime she strokes her hair behind her ear, is when he realizes. He’s completely smitten by this woman. More than he would like to ever admit.

“I get that sex with me is probably one of the best experiences of your life, but I actually meant in general. Spontaneous in the sense of… breaking into a museum at night, getting a tattoo at a night out.”

She swallows her pizza, then looks around thinking.

“I cut my hair once. But that was less spontaneous and more…”

“Are you telling me that the craziest and most impulsive thing you’ve done was getting a haircut?”

She looks at the shock in his face and giggles, reaches for one of the napkins on the bed to clean her mouth.

“I’m boring, okay. I was literally a fifty year old woman caught in the body of a twenty year old. I don’t.. I don’t do crazy. I’m a mom now.” she says, and Travis still shakes his head. He’s not having any of this.

“Moms don’t need to be boring.” he says, takes one last bite from the pizza and closes the cardboard box. “Okay, tell me one thing you always wanted to do in New York but never did.” he says, and Taylor looks at him with a questioning smile. Is this tuning into a truth or dare? She enjoys these mundane conversations with him. She reaches for the bedsheets again, feels a bit cold now sitting naked in bed with him. She looks around the room, allows a moment of silence to take over while thinking about his question.

“I always wanted to get more piercings in my ears. Like.. a helix one, and maybe here. I just thought that looks so cool.” she points at the outside of her ears.

“But then I never did it because I’m used to the general public picking on anything I do and I don’t want holes in my ears to become another national headline. And then one of my stylists was like.. I don’t know, he said I’m too old for that and I feel like if he says it then it��s probably..”

“Bullshit. I’m calling massive bullshit.” he says, slowly gets up and leaves her sitting in the hotel bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Get your panties, get your dress. We’re getting your ears pierced now.”

Taylor looks at this tall man getting dressed, and just starts laughing out loud.

“Are you crazy? Are you having a stroke? I’m not…”

“Life’s too short, baby. You gotta think less sometimes.”

She giggles again. She can’t believe him.

“Trav, it’s eleven PM. There’s no way any place is open. Also there will be paparazzi..”

“Give me your phone.”

“Travis.” she says again, laughing, hates the fact that she is intrigued. Yes, he is crazy and yes, this is not how she expected to spend the evening tonight. But then also, she always wanted to get her ears pierced. And she’s enjoying this a tad too much. She hesitates for a second, then looks back at his face. She’s still wrapped into the blanket of his hotel room whilst he’s standing in front of her fully dressed. He looks good, so say the least. She’s still in awe over how big he is. How small she feels next to him. How eye-to-eye it is to speak with him though. She sighs.

“I will regret this. I will so regret this.”

“Nervous?” he asks, sitting in the big black car with the tinted windows. He’s right next to her in the backseat, has noticed her stares out of the windows a few minutes before already. She’s been moving her leg uncontrollably. It’s hard to imagine that a few minutes ago they’ve been loved up in this hotel room, naked bodies as close as can be. She’s sitting next to him as well put together as before now. Her lipstick reapplied. Her hair brushed. The dress he unzipped before, now fully covering her body again. She turns her head around. She smirks. He likes how much she does that.

“Honestly, is it embarrassing if I say yes?” she says, then laughs a bit insecure, and so does he.

“No, it’s not embarrassing. I mean.. I’m sure it will hurt a bit. But it’s not that bad. So many people have multiple piercings.”

“I literally have to remind myself that I’ve had contractions before. Like.. I have experienced worse pain. I know I can get through this.” she says ironically, looking out of the window again and calming herself a little. He smiles. It’s cute how nervous she is. It’s cute that she’s doing this. It’s cute that he had a ridiculous idea, and she just rolls with it. He never expected her to. Another way of her surprising him to the core. She’s not at all who people said she was. Not in the slightest. The car starts at a red light. It’s still raining outside.

“Did you.. was.. was your baby girl born in.. in England?” he finds his courage to ask her this. He doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries. He doesn’t want to say something he will regret. She faces him, and the look on her face is more relaxed than he expected. She nods.

“Yeah, I had a c-section in London. That’s where her dad and me used to live. Everyone told me to get a natural birth but like.. I felt like I have nothing to prove and I don’t mind the little scar on my stomach.”

He listens to her talk about this topic, so lightly, so calm, so free. It’s impressive that she’s able to do that. He’s been with his ex- girlfriend for only five years with no child involved. Yet he still struggles to talk about this time in his life. A lot of admiration for how strong she is in his eyes. She notices that, too. Even through the dark of the night in the car.

“Is it.. is it different to raise her here than in London?”

“Not at all. I feel like it’s easier because I have my family here, and my friends. In London it was just.. his family and his friends.” she swallows. She doesn’t need to speak any further. He knows exactly what the result of that was. She had to leave them behind. She had to leave her life there behind.

“It’s good to have family close. I could never imagine raising kids without my mom close.”

She looks at the big man next to her, surprised to hear this from him. She didn’t expect him to say something like this. He didn’t seem like the family-oriented person to her.

“Miss? We’re there.”

Taylor looks at her security driving them. For a moment, she gets nervous again.

“Okay thanks.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’m good. Travis will come with me so..”

He smiles for a second, knows damn well that she didn’t mean it this way. But it did something to him. She feels safe with him.

“Let’s go?” he asks. She nods, assures herself once more that there’s no paparazzi close. Before she can open the door, Taylor notices him getting out of the car on the other side of the door. Instead of rushing into the shop that has a lid up ‘Tattoo & Piercing’ sign on up on the front door, he makes his way to her side of the car. Even though rain is pouring down like crazy. He opens the door for her. A gesture she’s not used to. But she appreciates it. She appreciates it a lot.

“Thanks.” she just says, and he doesn’t have to reply. With a nervous stomach she makes her way with him into the small piercing studio.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” she whispers into his ear, making him laugh.

“You know what? After this, I’m taking you to this place next door for a drink. You’ll need one.”

She laughs at him, hits him in the side then. His talk just makes her more nervous.

“Don’t say that. I’m scared now.” she overexaggerates in a high pitched voice. It makes him laugh. He can feel her small hands clutching onto his arm. And he likes it. He really does.

“Okay, you sure about this?”

Travis looks at the blonde woman in front of him. She’s sitting on one of the high chairs. The piercing specialists continues cleaning his tools. Travis has gotten his ears pierced too before. Yet the needles on this silver plate really do make his stomach churn for her. She does look terrified, but she’s playing it cool. He can tell. She’s gotten rid of her jacket already, had to use some hairclips to free her ears from any hair tangling down her cheek.

“Don’t ask me that. This was your idea, remember?”

He laughs, has now sat down on the chair next to her. The studio is playing an old record from Nirvana. 2005. He gets flashbacks from when he was a teenager listening to this now. An odd vibe in here. She takes a deep breath. He feels a little bit bad now for pushing her to do something crazy tonight.

“It’s not too late to back out yet.” he reassures her. Taylor’s eyes fall onto the silver tray with the different needles. Was she crazy for choosing three piercings at once?

“It’s fine. I always wanted to do this. I will live.”

Just when Travis was about to say some more words of encouragement, the piercer gets closer to her. It’s a slender man in his late twenties. His arms are full of tattoes and he’s got more than one piercing himself. He looks like he’s got lots of experience in this. Thank god.

“Okay, so we will do the left ear first because this one is closest to your heart. So blood flow in that ear is especially high so this will hurt the most. We’ll get it done very quickly, and once i’m through with the needle I will adjust the jewelry in the end, okay?” Taylor nods. Her hands are sweaty. Why does she always get herself in these ridiculous, insane, crazy situations. She was supposed to just grab dinner and have sex with this handsome man next to her. Instead, she ended up in a piercing studio at midnight, getting her ears pierced in her mid thirties. What even?

“It might be bleeding a bit, so I will cover your dress.” the man says, and Taylor shares a look with Travis. He can’t help but laugh. Just the look on her face makes him nersvous too all of the sudden.

“I think this is the time for you to hold her hand.” the man says to Travis with a smile. Just when Taylor was about to counter him is when Travis has adjusted himself with a smile. He’s immediately reached for both her hands, rubs the back of her hand again and again. She just awaits the pain in her ear, but is way too distracted by the look he’s giving her. This big, overarching smile in his face. His thumbs and his pointing fingers rubbing her sweaty hands constantly. She never thought he would be such an effective distraction. An effective distraction until she can feel it. The stinging pain in her ear. She expected this to hurt but she didn’t expect it to hurt so much. She presses her eyes together, her hands squeezing his. She feels her body fighting this, her breath increasing. “Almost done, Taylor. Almost done.”

And then, it’s over, As she opens her eyes she can see Travises worried look. He laughs at her shocked face, but there definitely is a hint of worry.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his hands still in hers.

“Yup. I… wow. Didn’t expect this to hurt this much.” she says. She clearly notices her sweaty hands and wonders why Travis won’t let go off them.

“Yeah the left ear is always the worst. But you did a great job. The other two won’t be as bad.” the man says, after having fixed the little diamond ring on Taylor’s ear.

“Oh god, why did I go for three. Am I crazy?”

“You can also just stick with one for now.” Travis says then, and Taylor can see his face watching the blood on the little white cloth in the guy’s hand. He now knows why he never wanted to get a piercing before.

“Listen. Two dates with you and I come home with a hole in my ear. Now let me at least finish what you started.” she says, and he’s surprised that she really wants to go through with it. The piercer just laughs quietly and Taylor feels Travis adjust the grip on her hands.

“Sorry about my sweaty hands..” she says quietly. He just smiles, shakes his head.

“Won’t let go of those. Can try as much as you want.”

She doesn’t move, really, can’t move. Just smiles at him sitting there with her. It’s absurd, it’s childish. It’s a fresh start. She’s living again. In a weird way, being in pain like this with no expectation really feels like she’s living again.

“I.. I can’t believe I did this. I won’t be able to sleep on the side for like a year now, but.. I did it.” she giggles sitting in the car again. Her hands are still shaky, and she would be lying if she said she feels great. Her ears are hot and pounding. She knows its late and she knows she should make her way home now. But Ashley texted her twice this evening that she should go for another drink with him after her spontaneous appointment, and that she’s more than fine watching Grey’s Anatomy with the cats at her house.

“I’m so proud. Dude. That looked really hurtful. You’re so badass.” he laughs, and she reaches for his hand again. The second time tonight. She’s never done that before. Never crossed the line from meaningless sex to.. holding hands. But he knows she’s buzzed. She’s on a high from doing something she never had the courage to do. And he’s here for it. He’s here for every second of it.

“Thanks for pushing me to do this. Really. I never would’ve done it if..”

Taylor’s rambling is interrupted by her phone buzzing. She starts digging in her handbag momentarily. Confused, she immediately takes the call from Ashley. Her heart dropping the second she picks up. Ashley is sitting on her couch, but she’s not alone. Eleanor is pressed against her chest, Ashley’s hand securely on her forehead.

“Tay, I’m so sorry for calling you but..”

“What happened?” she says panicky, completely forgets the fact that she’s not alone in the car.

“She woke up crying and told me she’s got a stomach ache. So I wanted to tug her in again but she wouldn’t stop crying and shivering. I think she has a fever. And she’s asking for you. If you want, I can..”

“No, no. Don’t worry. I’m coming home.” she says. Travis doesn’t react to anything she says, just instantly leans forward to let the driver know that they’re changing route. And it’s not even a question for him. This is Taylor’s daughter. And she needs her mother now.

“Are you sure?” Ashley says again, “I was gonna suggest to give her some paracetamol and..”

“Mommy.” Taylor suddenly hears in her ears, and it wrenches her heart.

“Oh baby.” Taylor mumbles, can’t stand seeing her little angel with hot and reddened cheeks crying for her.

“Mommy come home, mommy.” she sobs. Taylor takes a deep breath, just looks at Travis who shows her all his sympathy. He’s never met Taylor’s little girl. But this one crying sentence alone is pulling on his heart strings.

“I will, my love. I’m on my way. I’ll be home in just a few minutes okay?” Taylor says, trying to calm her crying baby. Ashley lowers her head, kisses Eleanor’s curly head a few times.

“I’ll be there soon, honey. I promise.”

“Okay, say ‘see you soon momma’” Ashley says to Eleanor, who slowly calms down but still doesn’t seem happy. Taylor swallows, then Ashley hangs up. Taylor takes a deep breath, looks out of the window. How could she not have noticed that Eleanor was coming down with something. How could she be out and about in town, all night, now knowing her baby was developing a fever.

“Oh god, I.. I’m sorry Trav. I really have to go home and..”

“Of course. We’re already changing direction.” he just says, and she looks back at him. This was supposed to be fun. She feels bad for ending the evening on such a low note.

“I’m really sorry, but..”

“Hey, no question. Your baby girl needs you. Poor thing.”

“I.. I’m really worried. I know this is stupid. But she hasn’t been sick in ages. I think she only had a fever once when she was a baby. Really. And if her tummy hurts? What if.. what if she’s got appendicitis? Oh gosh, I should call my parents.” Taylor keeps on mumbling to herself, already starring into her phone again. She suddenly feels Travises big hand on hers, forcing her to put her phone down.

“Hey, how about.. how about I stay the night at your place. And you can take care of your baby girl and I’ll take care of you. I can help you call a doctor and..”

“No, that’s not a good idea.” she suddenly interrupts him. Her tone suddenly has changed and he can’t really tell why. She can’t dare look into his face anymore, and he doesn’t get why. Did he say something wrong?

“Wh.. why?”

“Why?” she asks him, almost mad at him for asking. He can’t recognize her all of the sudden. Her face angry and her voice much louder than before. None if that gentleness in her tone. None of those giggles, those soft moans, those peppered kisses in his ear.

“Are you seriously asking me why I don’t want you to spend the night with me at my house where my child is sick?”

Travis doesn’t react, just waits for her to say it.

“I was just.. I just wanted to help, Taylor.”

“Okay.. I..” she gets mad, her chest heaving again. He really can’t recognize her right now. “I think I need to clarify something. You and me? This is sex, okay? We’re having fun.”

He doesn’t say anything else. He knows she’s waiting for a reaction, but he won’t. She won’t get to see him angry tonight.

“Do you understand that she’s never seen me with another man than her father? Do you understand that she just moved to another country, left her friends behind, her house, her pets… she.. I can’t introduce her to every man I encounter with. Especially not when she’s sick.”

Travis dares to look back at her face. She’s angry. She’s full of emotion. Full of energy. And he knows why she says all these things. She blames herself for this. She blames herself for having gone out with him tonight instead of staying with her daughter. She blames herself for actually considering for a second that it would have been a good idea to have him stay the night. He knows that, even if she fights the thought so much.

“I get it. Just sex. No need to get upset.”

He doesn’t say anything else. It gets quiet in the car. She looks at her phone screen, trying so desperately to seem distracted. Then, after a few seconds she looks at him. His face on the streets of the city. She swallows. Closes her eyes then. She knows she was too harsh. But she also knows that this was never supposed to happen. Him getting the idea that he has a right to know Eleanor. It was just supposed to be a date. Just sex. Just fun, nothing more.

“We’re here, miss.”

Taylor unbuckles her seatbelt.

“I.. I’m sorry for..”

Travis doesn’t react. She can see in his face that he’s hurt by her reaction. She got emotional. Too emotional. It’s admirable that he didn’t yell back at her after this.

“I know. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Taylor doesn’t say anything else. She reaches for her handbag, then looks back at him for a second. She looks at him, but nothing. Nothing else to say.

“Okay, bye.” she whispers while leaving the car.

“Bye.”

#fanfiction #taylor swift #taylor swift fanfiction #fanfic #writing #travis kelce #embarrassing #lmao #christmasbound

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