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maxarchive · 7 months

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2023 L'Équipe Interview, "I'm only here to win"

For the Dutchman, on course to win his third world title in a row this weekend, success does not quell his appetite for victories. If anything, the Red Bull driver appears even more determined to not leave anything to others.

He's funny. No, that's the wrong word, because we don't joke with Max Verstappen. At least when you're not one of his close friends, because with his people, he's apparently funny. So it's interesting, not to say edifying, to recall the first interview he gave to L’Équipe. On his debut with Red Bull in 2016, the Dutchman chatted in this same Singapore paddock, just a few months after his first GP success (Spain). The kid was a young wildcat who attacked, bit, and didn't let go. It was a very constructive experience.

Nine years later, he's on the verge of becoming a triple world champion this weekend in Qatar. His arrogance has been transformed into an icy confidence, and his fiery temperament has mellowed with victory and years of taking criticism. Today, Verstappen conducts his interviews like he drives his Formula 1 car. Without trembling or worrying about his opponent. He lives his life and answers straightforwardly, without giving himself away. He's become unflappable behind the wheel, and just as unflappable when it comes to giving of himself. He does the job to perfection, faultlessly and without spark. He responds quickly and efficiently. It's easy to see how the 18 year old has become an - almost - three time world champion, who knows how to thank his team, and rightly so; who knows how essential consistency is; but above all, who knows how to rely solely on himself to win, the only thing that counts for him. In this, he really hasn't changed.

Q. How are you enjoying the season? Are you as bored as we are? Not at all (he smiles). As far as I'm concerned it's quite the opposite. I'm always excited to come to the track and I'm always 100% motivated. I feel like this is the best thing that could've happened to me. I'm a driver at heart and to be able to win at the wheel of an incredible car is a real opportunity.

Q. But what excites you? The hunt for records or the pleasure of winning? I'm only here to win. Finishing in the top five, you know, that doesn't interest me. So I stay motivated because I know I can win and I love winning. The more wins I can get, the more motivation I'll have.

Q. Do you enjoy all your successes, or do you prefer some of them? For example, do you enjoy starting at the front and taking the lead, or battling and climbing back up the field, as you did at Zandvoort? Well, I like to get out in front and focus on a race that I want to be as clean as possible. At times like these, it's the moment when I can concentrate on my lap times, look after my lap times and preserve my tyres. In short, to do the best I can. But sometimes, if you run into problems or an unforeseen event sets you back, moving up in the rankings and fighting your way back into the lead is very enjoyable too. Except that, in those moments, there's inevitably more risk involved, and when you're fighting for a Championship, that kind of risk spoils the fun a bit.

Q. At Monza, we sensed that you were greedy, following Carlos Sainz and watching out for a fault in his tyres or his driving… They were better in qualifying, but we've got a great car for the race, so I just wanted to know what theirs was like, and when I saw that it was ruining their tires, then I knew.

Q. And then, when you're easily leading a race, what do you think about? About the race, or about dinner or anything else? No, definitely not. I never think about anything other than the race when I'm driving. As I told you, I stay very focused on my lap times, on my car; I want to do the best job I can.

Q. In the past, we'd hear you complaining at your engineer when he asked you to preserve your tyres. Today, you tell us that you're careful. Is that maturity? It's just that it depends on the circumstances. When I was complaining about this way of managing the tyres, it's because I wanted to attack. I had a car to win races, not a championship. So if I saw the window open, I wanted to go for it. And I was aggressive.

Q. Speaking of qualifying, it's an area where you weren't the best when you started out, and you seem to have taken a long time to get good at it. Now, it's one of your strengths. Is this an area you've worked particularly hard on? I've always enjoyed it, but in Formula 1 it's even more complicated than in the lower disciplines. There are a huge number of parameters to manage, in addition to your driving, which has to be on the limit. When I arrived in F1, I only had one year in a single-seater, and that's not much compared with the others. So it may have taken me longer because of that, but now I've got the hang of it. And the team has given me a car that can do it. Because a driver alone can't win pole.

Q. Since the summer, we've been hearing you say that you don't see yourself, like Fernando Alonso or Lewis Hamilton, in F1 until you're 40. Are you saying this because you're afraid of boredom or because you don't have enough rivals? First of all, there are the victories. Doing F1 if I don't win anymore… (he sighs). I could get motivated again by coming back to the front and winning again. That would be motivating. Then there's the quality of life. You can't measure the schedule of an F1 driver. And it doesn't get any better as the years go by. So that's what tells me I'll stop one day.

Q. Do you think that with a real opponent next year, you'll have more fun or, as you keep saying, only victory is beautiful? Obviously, for the team, the challenge is always greater when you have an opponent. If that were the case, it would be like 2021, when every weekend we were very close and didn't know who would win in the end. There, to finish as winners, you had to be very close to perfection.

Q. Do you miss that fight? You know, I loved that season. Just as I loved 2022. If things repeat themselves, that’s the trouble!

Q. So how do you see 2024? Or rather, how do you hope to see it? I don't really care. I mean, I'm ready for anything!

Q. Even to bore us like Michael Schumacher or Hamilton did by dominating everything? You know that some people appreciate domination. If you look at other sports, you'll see that domination can be enjoyable. For me, it's fun to watch and follow because the team or the athlete shows the world that he or she is doing a better job than the the others.

Q. So you liked Hamilton's domination? This is different. I don't like being beaten and neither does my team. But you have to appreciate what he did, his consistency and the work he put in.

Q. Was it important to beat Hamilton on the track like Alonso wanted to do with Schumacher? I'm repeating myself, but the most important thing for me is to win. I want to win and win again. It's not a question of people, and I think it would be a mistake to focus on a driver and make it personal. I don't want to beat one driver, I want to beat them all.

Q. Is consistency what you were lacking? Just putting one thing out seems difficult to do. I've grown as a driver by improving everywhere, but it's true that a great champion is measured over a whole season. You never see them with an off day, and that's what I want to achieve. Of course, you can't be perfect, but what I want is to continue to perform consistently.

Q. And how do you go about achieving this? Experience is essential. And of course, the car. Just as much. That helps a lot.

Q. Since the departure of Daniel Ricciardo (at the end of 2018), none of your team-mates has been able to rise to your level. Do you have an explanation for this? First of all, I think I've improved, that I've become a better driver in all areas. After that, it's hard to find an explanation and, you know, I'm pretty focused on myself. I'm not very interested in what's going on elsewhere or in the garage next door. I just want to go faster.

Q. Sometimes looking at your teammate's telemetry can help… It can happen, but not often. But my work is focused on what I do.

Q. Are you interested in taking part in the search for the next Red Bull driver? Like, for example, having your pal Lando Norris with you?These are just rumors. And then, we have fun talking about it. Like a game. Lando is my friend but it's not my decision to make.

Q. And would you like to contribute to this decision? No (instantly). I wouldn't, even if I could.

Q. For your third title, you could be crowned in the sprint race in Qatar, which would be a first… (He interrupts.) Is it? I hadn't thought of that. Well, there won't be much to celebrate because there's a race on Sunday. And I'm still concentrating on that. Winning a GP is what counts for me. But I don't like to think ahead.

Q. Last question: you're about to join the exclusive club of three-time world champions (Brabham, Stewart, Lauda, Piquet, Senna). Which one do you think is closest to you? I have no idea. I'm Max Verstappen and I'm very happy to be.

Translated via DeepL and Google Translator

#max verstappen #f1 #interview

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 4 months

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papyrus and delta are (adopted) twins and are attempting a twin switch! who notices?

I took the Undertale characters for this one! As a reminder for the newcomers, Delta is Disbelief Papyrus.

Undertale Sans - He knows immediately but plays along. He knows his brother(s) too well, and Delta always looks a little sadder than his Papyrus. But both of them are having fun right now so he won't ruin the fun. He pretends to be shocked when Papyrus "appears" at two places at once. How could that even happen O:

Undertale Toriel - She can tell something is not normal because Papyrus acts weird and is very insistent, but she doesn't notice the switch. Instead, she insists on checking on him to make sure he's not sick because you don't joke with these things. They wanted to have fun, they won a doctor's appointment instead... That happened.

Undertale Asgore - He doesn't know Papyrus enough to make the difference. Sure, he found that odd that Papyrus was in the kitchen when he saw him two seconds earlier in the living room, but he knows Sans better and Sans always does the weirdest thing so maybe all skeletons can? He's not judging.

Undertale Undyne - She almost falls for it, but eventually, she notices something is weird with Papyrus and suddenly gasps when she realizes it's not the good Papyrus. Now, that means she gets revenge twice as hard! Both Papyrus are now running for their life as Undyne is determined to kick both their asses.

Undertale Alphys - She notices immediately and ruins their little prank. Alphys had to make sure Delta was fine after he arrived, and she knows his bone structure by heart, and it's slightly different from Papyrus' one. That's quite awkward when she says that out loud in front of them, Undyne and Sans. She says nevermind and leaves the room to hide in the toilets.

Undertale Frisk - That's easy. Frisk flirts with them. Delta rolls his eyes, Papyrus plays along. Busted in ten seconds. Both Papyrus are impressed, but the kid won one battle, not the war. They will try again, and again until they succeed to prank them.

Undertale Chara - They're uncomfortable and wondering why Papyrus won't leave them alone when it's clear they don't want to hang out right now. They try to chase them away gently, but when a second Papyrus comes in the room saying he's bored, Chara is speechless. Uh???? What? They ask for explanations, but before they can, both Papyrus are gone. Did they imagine all of this? What was in their tea? Oh god, they didn't drink golden flower tea and poisoned themselves again, right?

Undertale Mettatton - He knows. Immediately. Delta thinks it's weird that Mettaton knows them so much when they're clearly not hanging out together that much. That's when he turned around and found a bright red Papyrus avoiding his stare at all costs. Oh. Welp. It seems Alphys is not the only bone structure connoisseur after all.

Undertale Gaster - He completely falls for it to the point Papyrus wonders if he should be offended by that or not lol. I mean, it's his father??? Uh. Maybe he should try this with two Sans to see if it's just him. That's awkward.

Undertale Grillby - He's going crazy. He just served Papyrus a milkshake. He went into the kitchen but when he went back, he found Papyrus... waiting for his milkshake? Maybe he just forgot, so he serves him another milkshake. But then he came back from the kitchen and he found Papyrus waiting for his milkshake again. When he finally understands what's wrong after like ten milkshakes, he's so disappointed with Papyrus lol. He's used to this with Sans, but him? He feels so betrayed.

Undertale Muffet - They tried to play the same trick they did at Grillby's in her bakery. Muffet notices and charges the donuts twice their prices as revenge. Ah... They tried...

Undertale Burgerpants - The two Papyrus are appearing and disappearing in random places while he's working. After an hour, Burgerpants has a mental breakdown and starts to break everything in the studio, just screaming in anger. Why can't he have one normal day of work in his life? Why everyone hates him?! Mettaton finds him later curling up in a cupboard, crying, hugging a broom.

Undertale Flowey - It's not that hard? They're clearly two different people and he knows that because he's their bestie. You can't fool him, even with a swap of clothes! He's too clever! ... Too bad they actually didn't swap their clothes. Flowey refuses to believe them and locks them both in his roots until they tell him they are the right Papyruses. But really, he got it wrong. Flowey is still so mad about it.

Undertale Gerson - Man, he's too old for this. He can't see that good already, why would you do this to him? He locks the door of his shop and forces them to mop the floor while he's lecturing them about pranking old people.

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sitp-recs · 13 days

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Hey Liv,

My friend had the most chaotic day today. She left on holiday and ended up packing at the last minute. Cue bags overflowing in every room, a dog to get into the car, a kid to pick up at daycare and no time to spare.

THEN her husband’s car broke down so she had to go pick him up almost two hours away with both dog and baby in the backseat….

All this so say: she might need a pick me up.

Do you have a Drarry rec where either of them (or both) are absolute chaos/ are under a bad luck spell /…?

Love love love ❤️

Omg your poor friend! 😱 I’m sorry things have been wild for her, that sounds super stressful and overwhelming! I hope everything was okay in the end. This story actually led to a really interesting ask, I did a mix of curses, pranks and bad luck with a touch of angst at the end - hope they work for what you’re looking for!

Humor/Fluff:

Bad Luck, Red Pants, and Broken Washing Machines by @the-starryknight (T, 2k)

After his five year sentence of magical suppression, Draco Malfoy got used to working without his wand. It's just days like today when nothing seems to be going right that he regrets his life in the Muggle world.

Special Affinity by @skeptiquewrites (E, 4k)

Auror partners Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy seem to have a special affinity for getting into convoluted accidental bonds. Once is a mistake, twice is bad luck, and five times...well five times seems like carelessness, doesn’t it?

Bubbles, Baths, and Bad Luck by manixzen (E, 5k)

A poisonous potion covering Professor Potter nearly head-to-toe would normally be a pretty big deal. It should be as bad as his day gets. But that’s before he’s informed that the cure involves a steamy, hot bath with an unrequited crush.

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain by Faith Wood (E, 21k)

It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

At the Crossroads There We’ll Meet by firethesound (E, 24k)

Potter keeps dying; Draco keeps saving him.

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by birdsofshore (E, 28k)

Harry never thought taking a job as Draco Malfoy's bodyguard was going to be easy. Add in a curse that makes Malfoy even more of an obnoxious git than usual, and Harry's got serious problems.

The Four Ds of Apparition (or: Destination, Determination, Deliberation, and Dicks) by @eidheann, @firethesound (E, 36k)

After transferring to the Apparition Department, Harry's life becomes one big dick joke. And all his friends are arseholes. So is Malfoy, but what else is new? AKA Harry Potter and the eighteen twenty dicks.

Draco Malfoy, It's Your Lucky Day by Faith Wood (E, 38k)

Even though he's unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.

Skybound by @xanthippe74 (T, 61k)

No matter how much Harry Potter wanted to believe he’d left danger behind when the war ended, it found him again anyway. All he had to do was step out his own front door on a Tuesday morning. A Drarry re-imagining of Howl’s Moving Castle.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always.

Angst:

Super Rich Kids by @thusspoketrish (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #curses and bad luck

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soulntes · 9 months

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CHAPTER 7 : BABY MINE

CHAPTER 8 : LESSONS FROM A WARRIOR SOON

for sure there's nothing they could do but live how life is going right now and prepare for the worst. through his eyes... there was only promising.

there's a battle between the now and past. both have a role in their life changing how they act and interact. by seeing this demon telling how her what could be empty promises.. has her thinking differently about him.

how miles reassure her in a soft tone of their safety, alters on his purpose of birth in becoming colonel quaritch the rda programmed him to be.

created him to be the colonel miles quaritch.

but.. who is he exactly?

...

they've arrived at the land gate of the city, heavily guarded by soldiers and aircraft surrounding the entire perimeter.

her eyes keep searching for an answer in his manipulation tactics to trust him and give into his sins. "they won't touch neither you or him. not a single finger doll."

miles senses there's still apprehension into entering human territory.

she seethes with rage and is not fully on board with going to the enemies territory but for the safety of her boy is what convinced her decision.

with a sigh, "if you do not hold that promise, you will know eywa's rage on what happens to her child." miles chuckles but nods affirming about what he needs to uphold.

putting a hand on her cheek, "believe me, i don't know what you mean but i respect that determination of your eywa deity. i hope you teach me more in the meantime at bridgehead. we made a deal."

she tilts her head and her ears perk up confused on what he meant.

the recom continues to speak and holds her chin to pull her close in his sight, "the deal where i pass the whatever great rites, gain my ikran and i get my date with you, cupcake."

she scoffs responding instinctively the turn of her head away from his touch but there's a hint of her smirk that miles caught.

"you incompetent, ignorant child. that's all that motivates you to learn our ways?" she laughs at his stupid reason to complete and be na'vi.

"if it meant a date with you and you fall for me... then so be it, sweetheart." he slightly caresses her cheek as she pulls away.

"hey! leave my mom alone. she isn't interested!" spider yells squeezing himself in between his mom and quaritch to prevent him from flirting.

miles rolls his eyes and his ears pressed down and his tail swish in annoyance. this kid had to ruin a good moment. i basically had her wooed.

spider leans into his mom's arm to hold her and stare menacingly at quaritch.

ingyen smiles fondly at her son as she pets his hair.

before the aircraft could land, spider hops on his mom's back and ingyen jumps from a distance and lands perfectly.

in an instant miles and the recoms immediately hopped off thinking they were running away but failed to keep on their feet. they landed harshly with the aircraft move oddly by the impact of their jumps.

miles groans that his body took an impact and limps towards the mother and son who're standing there, "what did i say about staying close to me?"

ingyen shrugs and spider does the same when he looks at her for a way to respond back, "we do not wait. i hate sky people technology."

miles ticks at this synchronized behavior. like mother, like son.

the human soldiers see the unknown female na'vi and point their guns at her assuming she snuck in on the aircraft. she reacted pulling her dagger out, posing in defense mode over her son and hisses at every soldier.

they were getting closer to intimidate her, "don't shoot! the na'vi lady is with us, she won't do anything.. right?" miles immediately stands in front of them to prevent any mistake and give them protection.

he looks behind him, indicating to put her dagger away and show she means no harm. ingyen hisses watching every demon's movements in case of protecting her son.

miles raises one hand for them to drop their aim as he kneels in front of her, "sweetheart, you have to put it away or they'll end up hurting you and spider."

her tail swishes, baring her teeth and looks down at her son, hugging her to at least protect her from being shot.

her mind was a battlefield choosing from threatening the sky people with a scare or drop her guard to keep her seykxel safe.

her sight went to miles, staring at her with a look of trust.

to trust his word.

his ears were perked up and his tail swishes left and right of the suspense on her next move. trying to predict what she'll do next that can risk their deal.

miles gives her a nod as his other hand reaches out carefully towards hers and lower down her weapon.

he scoots as soon as she sees him getting closer to them.

miles leans in to whisper to her, "lower your weapon. they're not going to hurt you or your boy, as long as you're next to me i'll tell them to back off. not a single hair strand will they pluck out of that head, cupcake."

ingyen's skin shivers at his soft voice, her heart and blood quickens at his sudden closeness and his warm breath that tickles her ear. she should be used to this by now at the times he tried flirting with her but... it's different now. her eyes follow the blue stripes on his face as they trail to his eyes.

she stares at those small, hypnotically golden eyes that carry trust.. no lies. in the end she hisses one last time at the sky demons, putting her dagger away, and hugs her son tightly to hers and mutters under her breath, "fay sa tawtute." these sky people.

she'll listen to miles for now.

miles exhaled at last that he didn't even know he was holding in and reached a hand out under her chin to caress, "thank you, sweetheart. since you obeyed me, you deserve a reward."

"oe kemsike newonum ngenga txavä ayu, vrrtep!"

i do not want your filthy things, demon!

he chuckled at her shocked reaction. she went back to being the annoyed mother who hisses at him and plays hard to get.

when miles pointed his team towards ingyen and spider, the recoms immediately surrounds the mother and child for surveillance and protection.

"colonel. pleasant surprise you came in one piece. thought the na'vi would shred you to pieces once you went offline." ingyen saw a woman in green clothing with a machine that made her almost equal in height with na'vi.

miles saluted to the general, "no ma'am, of course not. turns out this little lady here was searching for the kid who happens to be his adoptive mother. she put up a fight but we made a deal in the end."

the general crosses her arms, "what would the deal be about?"

he continues, "she teaches us about being na'vi and her kid will be safe as long as she cooperates. it also seems she knows about jake sully well so i'm trying to get information about his whereabouts by pretending to be her ally.. a friend technically."

ardmore sighs and warns, "colonel, making deals like that comes with consequences on our end. if you get attached and intervene and involve yourself with the na'vi woman like sully did, you'll suffer those consequences-"

he interrupts, "general ardmore with all due respect, i don't really see myself with her or the kid. i'm here to accomplish a mission and it's hunting jake sully."

the general has an idea of his plan but has some doubts about the outcome. she fears it'll end up like jake from what she read in reports all those years ago.

she gives a nod, "you understand the value of this mission and how many puts their lives in our hands for pandora to be the new home for humanity. i better not see even a hint of compassion for those two because i can replace you or pull you out and they'll be locked up for questioning. with or without cooperation, we'll do it the hard way with the machine." the woman's threat caused miles to clenched his fists a bit after what he seen the machine did to the kid even worse when he endured such pain, "they'll have to be in a room under surveillance to not cause any trouble especially that na'vi. at that point, do what you can."

after she gave her orders, she left the recom to handle the situation.

ingyen scoffs with a smirk of annoyance cussing in her native tongue, "kalweyaveng. pxel po kame, teylu 'al. tsun tspang sno atxkxe fmong."

son of a bitch. like she knows, larvae shit. i could kill her, land stealer.

the colonel's hearing picks up familiar words she taught him as his ear moves down to try to hear what she's saying, "what'd you say, darling? can't hear your pretty voice."

the mother glares at him to not test her in cursing him out too.

miles shrugs with a smug grin planted on his face knowing she basically made a promise in ending the general with cussing her out.

as they made their way inside bridgehead city, the humans watch from a distance of ingyen's arrival because they never thought of a native wanting to be close in approximate circumstances.

it all over again.. the stares and whispers among them.

she tries her best to block them out of her mind and focuses on her son's well being and takes guard if anything to be useful to her advantage.

her tail swishes with her nerves building at the names she's being called..

a savage.

a blue alien.

a beast.

a wild animal.

it didn't hurt the slightest because they were the ones coming here and destroying everything. stealing what wasn't theirs and don't want peace. they're the ones coming to her home and invade. they were the monsters. a disease. the hate that she developed ever since she was a child.

but her mothers instincts kick in at the mention of her son..

a brat.

a stupid kid who doesn't know own his race.

an out of control child.

brainwashed.

an orphan that can never be a human.

a boy who lived a savage life.

she knows not to act on her feelings to protect her boy so she brings her son to her side as she whispers, "kllkxem lenrra ma'itan. fay vrrtep lu'ke ley ve'kì tìngay" then covers his ears.

stand proud, my son. these demons aren't worth hateful truth.

that is.. until someone tried messing with a protective mother.

the sick laughter and jokes two sky people were making in front of her that her ears perk.

"do you really think that savage na'vi thinks the boy is hers. is she stupid or something?" one chuckles at their companion and they follow, "no but who's even more stupider in this is the kid. i mean someone who's a different species than you and chosen as your hypothetical mother? that's ridiculous! he's lucky nobody can touch him or his bitch of a mother because the colonel decided they stick with them. it would've been hilarious if we taunt them on how they speak behind a glass like a zoo animal."

it was echoing. her ears pressed down to the back of her skull. her tail pointed up to analyze her behavior.

their laughter was raging on ingyen's response to slit their throats to never utter a laughter and belittle her son.

she turns in their direction with wide, menacing eyes into their souls as her hand goes to her dagger.

it was like in slow motion.

spider caught his mom and was ready to pounce to attack the humans when quaritch put his hand on her shoulder, "hey little lady, you have to relax. i'll handle this."

he carefully places ingyen behind him to calm down and approaches the laughing humans, "what's so funny, gentleman?"

the two suddenly quit laughing as they caught the attention of the recom, "nothing."

miles doesn't believe their lies and chuckles, "if it's nothing, why is it so damn funny? the kid basically survived his entire life here on this planet for years, your laughing asses would've been taken out by her if she spotted you in her home. i can allow her to injure you enough until you see death in her eyes. would you like to take on that challenge?"

both shook their heads as they were quivering in their shoes, "i guess we understand each other. next time, insult the woman in silence or don't do it at all because if i ain't around then i don't know what she'll do if she was let loose and i was too late." he smirks down at their puny figures, turns to ingyen with a slight nod towards the sky people.

he's given her permission to frighten them.

her head snapped at them as she pounced in front of them, "tsewtx vrrtep! oe tam ta'leng rusey!'

dirty demons! i will skin you alive!

her vibrant yellow eyes dilated staring down at the humans with her teeth bearing at each word she spouts in her mouth tongue.

the sky people shudder and rush to their post of work, away from the mother's rage.

ingyen clicks her tongue as she watches them scurry, "ley ke."

worthless.

the colonel laughs, "you got quite a mouth there darling, your mother never showed you to be a lady."

"my mother taught me to defend myself and protect what i love. not a lady like the sky people say it. it's stupid."

spider stares with admiration and stars in his eyes by how cool she acted, "my mom is perfect the way she is! you see how she looked at them! how awesome she got in their faces and they ran away like dipshits!"

miles rolls his eyes with a smile tugging in his face thinking to himself : they're both truly alike.

as a last remark he utters under his breath at his own joke, "i guess you're raised differently. mothers are truly the scariest beings out there."

ingyen's and spider's bond and life kind of reminds him of the child's movie back on earth.

a mother elephant protects and loves her baby with big ears even when others see him odd.

not much of a coincidence since spider is treated differently from both na'vi and humans and ingyen gets treated compared to a wild animal.

huh... there's not much of a difference.

if it's possible, he'll show 'em the film.

...

the whole city was filled with cool steel floors, machines moving as they fix and construct, humans walking to where they need to go, robots with people attached guarding or helping out.. it was unusual for ingyen and spider.

mostly for her.

after a long time the sky people have brought their evolution to another level than what she's seen before. all those years that the forest built to become what it used to be before is gone.

it won't be back until they leave for good. she'll be sure of it.

it was starting to become darker outside, how she wishes they were in the forest and be under the stars and eat the food she hunted. laugh and talk with her son as she cleans his face when he takes a deep breath to take off the mask for a second.

the look of love and affection that's plastered on his face whenever seykxel tells her a story of what jake told him but now they're stories of what the demon tells him.

not bad stories but stories of the memories he acquired and what he knows of.

it's also gotten personal the times she's heard for a moment and those talks help her son.

her son's changing. she feels her boy is slowly developing a kind of bond who is a replica of a father.

a father figure.

seykxel always desires and desperately wants fatherly love. all those times he watched the omatikaya kids play with their mom and dad, he wanted to cry.

not because it was his mom's fault.. because of his existence and ingyen claiming him as a son, it's an impossible dream.

at a young age, seykxel saw a father in jake. a father who helped him make a mother's day gift for his mama. a father who carried him with his friends everywhere when he wasn't busy.

but now that seemed to change.

they weren't at home.

they were with the recoms in the middle of a forest and base. most of all, with the reincarnated man that passed away.

the man both of them despised for all those years of pain and anguish.. started to take a turn.

"you alright there sweetheart?" miles says, observing her as she didn't seem to stare off into space.

ingyen looks at him and figures she was in her own world of thoughts, "i'm alright."

quaritch stares and notices her tail is lower than usual, her ears were slightly pressed back and she's quieter.

he didn't want to push it since she's probably overwhelmed by the place with the stares and whispers, he couldn't blame her.

he gives a slight nod and continues to lead them somewhere.

spider reaches his hand towards hers and caresses the same way she does to ease her nerves.

ingyen looks down and sees his worried look and changes it to a reassuring smile.

they stopped as soon as miles stood in front of a door and opened it for them to enter.

they slowly go in extremely cautious, not knowing if anything will harm them, as their feet takes them into the darkness.

miles chuckles and turns on the light. it was a room.

it had two beds, some shelves, a tv, another room with weird tools and other stuff. ingyen takes in the room as she looks back miles, "what is this for?"

"you and the kid are staying here with me. we can't give you a separate room since i fear your pretty little head will come up with an escape plan," he pets her head and she smacks it lightly, "okay.. still not at that step yet. either way i gotta keep an eye on you two sweetheart. you're my responsibility."

he made his way over to the other room as he explained what was in there, "this is a bathroom. you do your business there and you shower. you two can use it since there's enough soap and shampoo for you."

ingyen shakes her head, "i am not using demon technology. i bathe at the forest, better for skin with natural remedies and not damaging."

he sighs.

"you rather bathe your pretty ass in the middle of the jungle where everyone can see you naked. ain't that uncomfortable, cupcake?" miles asks with his signature smirk ingyen can sense from an inch away from her.

"now i have to teach you to bathe in the forest, great." she sighs, "that ain't bad on my part sweetheart, keep talking and we can lead somewhere between us."

before she could remark, spider points to the tv in front of the bed, "that a tv?"

miles nods going to turn it on for him, "since we're gonna be here until tomorrow morning, might as well enjoy this kid."

ingyen was reluctant on letting him near the so called tv but he's a child and he's curious especially when pictures show on the screen.

both of them got close as ingyen touched the screen staring at the pixels, "this tv, they tell stories and pictures?"

"pretty much, doll. in the mean time i'm gone, i'll put something on to distract you." he grabs the controller and searches for something that'll keep them entertained.

then he remembers what he thought earlier. showing the film of the baby elephant with big ears.

miles clicks on the movie to start, "i think you two will enjoy this one."

the movie started with theatrical music that caught interest to the young mother by its raw and strong sounds. spider sits in front of the tv with his mom following, behind him as her eyes settle on the bright colors.

DUMBO

ingyen tried saying it, "du-dumpo?"

miles chuckles at her attempts, "no, darling. it's dumbo."

"why does it sound like the word dumb? why, dumbo?" spider asks as he observes the characters drawn in the introduction.

"well guess you have to find out for yourself, kid," he pats his head and heads for the door.

"the controller is near the tv, rewind the movie as much as you want since i don't know when i'll be back." he tells them but they're too focused on the colors and music.

he grins a little and closes the door and locks on its own.

...

the colonel was beginning to become impatient.

the tests were suffocating him from all the wires, the beeps, scannings, and whatever other things they were doing to see his situation of the painful headaches and dizziness.

the science pukes didn't know a thing to why this is occurring to him than his comrades, he thought about the human colonel..

it's noticeable through the thoughts and personality he acquired that the human one was a lot worse a long time ago.

how human quaritch's zero hesitation in burning and destroying ingyen's home tree.

no guilt or remorse.

he may not have been present at the destruction but he's remembering the thick bark breaking as it fell on most of the natives when they were fleeing to safety.

he can't imagine what she witnessed that never occurred to her people.

miles didn't want to touch on the subject of what happened since it'll set back the acquaintance relationship that's building. it seemed the kid helped her cope.

spider. seykxel.

the way she protects and helps the kid adapt and accept the differences happening in their life, shows a different side to what miles originally thought of her.

from the beginning she knew she was at a disadvantage when a whole new set of human/navi hybrid soldiers prevented his freedom.

she didn't care. she snuck up on all of them with their guard up and threatened the life of miles for a small chance in saving her boy.

boy was she terrifying in his perspective that he thought it was jake sully's na'vi wife out to kill him but it was her.

ingyen. the possible woman he dreamt in his dream the first time he awakened.

it can be possible but the general's constant order repeating in his head to not get attached or involve himself personally with the captives.

his thoughts were interrupted when one of the science pukes entered along with lyle.

"colonel, looks like everything is alright. there's nothing wrong with your physical body or anything unusual that makes you have all of these constant headaches." the scientist in a white suit examines their tablet, scrolling through the information on it.

he tilts his head, "what do you mean there's nothing? so i'm gonna have to walk around with this headache all the time?"

they say nothing but lyle eases his next reaction, "colonel, i found some valuable information from the scientist that took mama lion's dagger.."

"what is it? it better be good than whatever this lab coat just explained about me." he snarls at the quivering human.

"she never mentioned her relationship with sully's woman, turns out... they're sisters. she's her younger sister." at that sudden news made his ears perk in interest as he took off the stickers with cables off his forehead and upper body, "little mama never mentioned about her connection sully's bat shit wife? man, am i gonna have an interesting talk with her."

lyle looks at the scientist and directs him with his eyes to show the dna and analysis of the dagger. they pulled a file from years ago, showing a picture of her next to neytiri's and they're information.

his eyes travel back and forth between the sisters and see the similarities. they look the same but radiate their differences by their facial expressions and hair.

neytiri with her hair fixed but ingyen let her hair loose with a few strands of decorative beads. scars placed far apart since ingyen had her scar under her left eye that he dreamt. her calm but stern expression in the picture he knows very well when he's seen her focus on hunting and patching him up.

his eyes landed on her eyes and lips. her eyes held nothing in the picture but when he's getting to know her, he picks up how her yellow irisis sparkles in amusement when he finally gets something. they also hold courage and love when it comes to spider. her eyes become crescents like the moon when eclipse starts to set, the only bright thing you can see in the night with her bioluminescent marks that glow in the dark like stars and her skin as the sky. too far and too precious for him to touch.

her lips. they were plump and looked soft despite being a warrior and scars on her face. it made her more fierce and a beast within her beauty.

miles wants to ask ingyen about her relationship with sully's woman to see if she says the truth or ignores his questions.

now he knows a way to influence her to give him the information on their possible whereabouts.

the colonel was heading back to the room to have a pleasant conversation with her. as soon he opened the door.. he wasn't ready for what he saw when entering because there sat ingyen in front of the tv still with spider sleeping in her arms comfortably.

with little effort walking in, he stood in front of her with a file in his hand, "darling, you must've been pulling my tail far too long that i finally know who you are. so tell me-"

a sniffle caught the flick of his ear, a swaying tail and looked down thinking it was spider having a nightmare or from the movie but it wasn't...

ingyen.

there were... tears in her eyes?

her eyes held pain and reminiscence, holding her boy tightly but lovingly, staring at the screen which played a lullaby everyone knows as a child on earth.

baby mine

he stays there listening to the soft melody.

beginning with the hummings, the little elephant reaches his trunk to where his mother was, touching and feeling each other; from what he observes; after a long time from criticism and separation.

baby mine, don't you cry

baby mine, dry your eyes

rest your head close to my heart.

never to part, baby of mine.

little one when you play, don't you mind what they say

let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear

baby of mine

ingyen replays a memory. from when she was young and the mother of her son in their beginnings. just like mama jumbo, she was joyous of having her own baby. at first sight, it was love and adoration for her son even if he was different than the rest... he was an innocent baby who wanted to be with his mama.

ingyen carried her son everywhere, teaching him the way of life and the balance of life eywa created in order for them to live in harmony.

just like baby jumbo, seykxel was a curious little boy. full of happiness and trouble that ingyen smiled at anything he did. he played, he laughed, he does silly pranks on his mama, and always beside her.

but it came with whispers, stares, and rumors among her clan about her baby.

about how odd looking he was. that her seykxel wasn't her baby and omatikaya. some other demon cursed mo'at's youngest daughter in raising a demon. someone created lies so she can raise a monster among their clan who'll end up like his diabolical father. when he grows, he'll be the one to kill her because he didn't feel like he belong because he doesn't.

she's gotten emotional about how the world can perceive a young child into something that's not in their little hearts.

since she too was perceived as the odd sister. a lost child who didn't care about humans turned into a mother for one.

more tears shed down to her cheek, landing on spider's sleepy face, watching how the baby animal kept smothering his face into his mother's touch and cries. mama jumbo uses her trunk as a swing, rocking her dear baby to comfort him on the days she couldn't.

as if it happened to her when jake and neytiri came back without her son. leaving her son because they didn't have any other choice. the rage, the anguish, the confusion she felt being separated from her son not knowing if he was alright or dead.

from your head to your toes [baby mine]

you're so sweet, goodness knows [baby mine]

you are so precious to me, cute as can be

baby of mine

baby jumbo's time was up as his mouse friend leads him back to his tent to rest and he waves to his mama goodbye until the next time. mama jumbo moves to the other barred window waving her sweet baby in a distance before he disappeared.

that truly moved ingyen. seeing it being relatable to her personal life made her vulnerable in front of the demon she despises despite showing her fearless character.

miles didn't know what to say, guessing the movie really pulled some heart strings making it far more meaningful.

"do you think the mother will be back with her baby? will the baby continue trying to be accepted and receive love from the world in order to be with his mother?" her sudden questions caught him off guard as he has no way to answer her.

he shrugs, "you're gonna have to wait and see, mamas," kneeling down near her sitting figure and carefully lifts his hand to touch and wipe her tears.

she reacts with a flinch at his odd behavior towards her given that she isn't used to being touched by someone trying to comfort her. much less her... enemy?

her eyes trail the veiny hand there, waiting for her permission in continuing what he was doing. ingyen looks directly at miles in search of anything he was doing out of concern is fake.

but nothing. only care and she doesn't know what else was there that makes it more... impactful and accepting being vulnerable with someone other than her sister, her mother, and jake.

a small nod, she allows him to wipe her glistening tears. his hand was strong but held a lenient touch when drying her eyes. her heartbeat accelerated a bit.

"got you all sad and sappy because of an elephant, huh?" he tried making it out of a harmless joke and she chuckled showing him her smile for the first time.

no mask. no exaggerated eye rolling. no smirk.

a pretty smile only god knows how long he's been dying to see it in front of him.

"it truly is moving seeing how tough that baby is but many forget.. he's a baby. a baby who wants his mama." she explains staring down at her boy, stroking his face without a mask to imprint it in her memories.

miles watches with a slight grin, leaning close only a few inches from her face, "that baby reminds me of someone," he gaze lands on spider.

ingyen turns to say something, realizing how close his face was, "yes it does, doesn't it?"

they stare at each other seeing their features of every line, every dot, and every detail they can absorb.

miles felt a pull to her somehow in a way to be close to her. know her more than anybody had ever tried.

miles was seeing the true beauty of pandaora ingyen was talking about.

those yellow irisis looking at him in a different perspective and their chemistry starts to become more... risky.

they didn't realize the movie was ending filled with cheers when the baby finally flew as he gained success to recover his mama back.

there he was in the arms of his mama and he kissed her face and she smiled, receiving his love and how proud she is of what he was insecure and thought it was wrong for him to be born with it, made him confident and shine brighter than any star.

the end.

FUN FACT : this whole fanfic is inspired by the movie dumbo that i was watching after avatar 2 came out. it made me realize...

what if spider had a mother who didn't care about his appearance or how he was born and just loves him, it's her baby no matter what. spider deserves a mom who'll protect and love him without explanation.

she will do anything to keep her baby alive and happy.

this remake makes me cry every time when 'baby mine' plays, the chapter may be a bit short but it's meaningful to each other and how vulnerability works between them, not only ingyen and miles.

TAGLIST

@skinmittensgoblin @eternallyvenus @winxschester @perseny @cleverzonkwombatsludge @reallysparklychaos @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @liyahsocorro @violet-19999 @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @ratchetprime211 @analuw @alexandra-001 @grimistangel @ok-boke

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neopuppy · 8 months

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I did have a dropped ‘idea’ because I never actually turned it into a WIP that was somewhat Mafia AU/Hybrid AU. Mostly dropped because it would’ve been long/is this even something my audience deserves(lets be real, no).

It was crooked cop Johnny/good cop Jeno(The Departed, if you will).

When Jeno was a kid, his parents owed a lotttt of money to a loan shark and they begged for an extension but time was up. Jeno saw them murdered and he managed to escape because his mom knew they were coming to collect their debts, one way or another. He watched them executed from outside of their run down apartment and saw Johnny come in head to toe in his cop uniform- this is when he realized not all cops are good.

Johnny advances to lieutenant over time while still collecting money on the side to manipulate different murder homicide cases and exchange info with the Mafia, and Jeno grows up as a run away.

The day Jeno sees his parents murdered he wanders the streets in tears while searching for a place to hole up for the night with only the rest of the money his parents had left packed in his bag. He finds an empty warehouse and hears a sound of distress coming from outside while trying to sleep, when he goes out to look he stumbles upon a kitten hybrid that can’t be much older than himself. At this time Jeno knows little of Hybrids, but he does know that by law stray Hybrids are to be killed off on site to lower the chance of over-population, especially cat hybrids.

He tries to talk to her and ask if she’s lost but she won’t respond, so Jeno after much convincing gets her inside and offers some of his clothes to warm her up.

Years go by and Jeno takes in this kitten hybrid after learning she was abandoned(but she doesn’t tell him why). He works hard to keep them both housed and fed and their relationship is more like brother/sister after all that since she’s never experienced her first heat.

Jeno graduates from the police academy and he works silently, collecting the names and faces of all the men who participated in ruining his life with his last conquest being Johnny. He correlates Johnny with loss of innocence, because watching him continue to live his life as a corrupt cop changes his perspective of humanity. Jeno’s only solitude after stalking these men is coming home to his kitten hybrid, clueless to how evil and unforgiving the world can be.

Jeno earns a lot of trust and respect in the police academy and he works his way into an undercover cop postion. It’s no easy task but it’s exactly what he wanted, everything goes well until one day Johnny traces back to a data server at that same abandoned warehouse Jeno had shifted into a home over the years and shoots the address off to the bad guys.

It all happens too fast and Jeno catches wind of it too late, arriving after they’ve cleaned out the place and taken his hybrid

plot twist: Johnny found her trying to hide, scared and cornered up somewhere in tears. He instantly fell in love with her and tucked her away, managing to sneak her out. Jeno watches back security footage to see this all unfold and now he’s even more determined to end Johnny and get back his hybrid.

The thing is, through all this trauma and stress, the kitten hybrids heat slams into her for the first time and Johnny is the one to take care of her through it, even though her body initially calls for Jeno. This ends up forming a stronger bond between the two of them despite Johnny essentially being a stranger to her, she sees him as her owner now and through her madness she inadvertently exposes Jeno’s name which leads Johnny to uncovering who the snitch is.

This fic would have ended in major character death😅 I won’t say who tho😘💚

#anyway #would have been good tho…

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hamliet · 11 months

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What do you think about the romance in titanic?

It's truly great. Titanic is a good story and a good movie. I would actually recommend Lindsay Ellis' video on it.

But as for my thoughts...

The romance itself is a little alchemical, at least in terms of their names. Rose DeWitt-Bukator: Rose=red, symbol of the stone and red stage; DeWitt="of white," or the white stage. Rose is the philosopher's stone. Jack Dawson: reference to jackdaws, a symbol of the black stage). Which makes sense since James Cameron pitched it as Romeo and Juliet on the Titanic, and Romeo and Juliet is mega alchemical. (Also Cameron captured the spirit of Romeo and Juliet far better than most. It's hopeful!)

Jack and Rose aren't the most complex characters to grace the screen, but they don't have to be to be compelling (and they don't pretend to be more than they are, either). Their struggles are timeless and complementary, which helps them resonate with audiences around the world and across cultures.

Jack wants a better life, but he wants a better life for those around him, too. His joy and way of finding beauty in everything around him is contagious. He might have "nothing in [his] pocket" to offer, but he still finds moments of cheering about being the "king of the world" at the bow with Fabrizio, makes friends with those around him, plays with kids like Cora, and is fundamentally... kind. He saves a distraught woman from ending her life and didn't even defend himself when he was accused of attacking her. He captures his joy of life in his art, drawing what he sees as beautiful.

Rose wants a better life, just like Jack, but instead of being determined to live her best life where she's at, whatever she has or doesn't have, she has no freedom. Instead of being contagious in joy to where she draws others in like Jack, Rose must instead withdraw to survive. She can't trust anyone around her because they're all counting on her to save them (her mother wants Rose to save them from financial ruin, her fiancé wants Rose as arm candy). But Rose is seventeen. Jack's kindness to her inspires her to save him when he's accused of attacking her, and his love for life and for her just--they give Rose hope.

Is there anything more hopeful than seeing someone else truly alive?

Of course, then Jack dies saving Rose. And no, he could not have fit on the wood and also when water's that cold your limbs do not work perfectly so they could only make so many attempts to get on the wood in the first place, and yes if she'd stayed on the lifeboat he may have lived. but--that's not the point of the story. Rose is a seventeen year old girl who is tired of having people value her life as only what she can give them. Even Cal saving her by getting her on a lifeboat has nothing to do with Rose living and everything to do with her surviving to benefit him, not Rose.

Rose jumping off that lifeboat is her choice to live, even if it means she'll die.

It's a powerful choice, and people who nitpick or act like an abused, suicidal 17 year old facing trauma would think rationally are just... idk killjoys. Go watch Batman vs Superman or whatever pseudo-noir pretentious drivel tickles your fancy instead.

Anyways. So this motif of life coming from death is again, alchemy! It's a romantic tragedy, because even though Jack dies... there is life that comes from his sacrifice. Rose does live, physically as well as emotionally and spiritually. Even when she "dies" in the end, it's left ambiguous as a deliberate question--is she dying or dreaming? Does it matter, when the point is the same--that she's alive and Jack is alive and they are all together, whether in the afterlife or her dream?

#ask hamliet #titanic #titanic meta #titanic 1997 #rose dewitt bukater #jack dawson #rose x jack

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hargrove-mayfields · 9 months

Text

It’s Disabled Billy and Steve Week

Day 1- Music

My prompt: Harringrove- Dancing to music at their wedding

-•-•-•-

In 1996, Billy and Steve get married.

They didn’t want to wait an unknown amount of time just for a legal certificate that wouldn’t mean much anyways, so they each picked a ring from one another’s jewelry boxes, bought some thrifted suit jackets, and set the date.

Mrs. Byers was more than happy to lend her back yard to the event, as long as her kids agreed to help her with the load of work setting up and decorating would create. They got help from their friends, and through the grapevine that led to Carol, a now professional interior designer, getting her hands on the theme and decorations. Control, drama, whatever, it’s all in Carol's wheelhouse, but Billy’s just grateful she involved Steve in choosing the theme.

Steve had had a stroke and lost 90% of his eyesight in the aftermath of the Starcourt attacks. In the years since it’s never returned, the old nurse's promises of magic recovery all hollow attempts at making him feel better, so it meant a lot when Carol went out of her way to get tactile decorations for Steve to enjoy in his own right.

Massive fake flowers, braille signs and table settings, even the cake is textured with sugar pearls and rolled chocolate to give Steve something to touch, a way to build his own image of his special day. The cake came courtesy of Jonathan and Tommy, a more than unlikely duo who came together for their friends, and because of their mutual artistic interests.

Nobody expected Tommy to become a baker of all things, but damn if he doesn’t make the best tres leches cake any of them had ever tried. Though to be fair, the majority of their Midwestern friend group couldn’t say they had tried one before. Argyle and Billy had bragging rights on culinary experiences growing up in a more culturally diverse region.

Jonathan on the other hand had become a painter, and done the decorations for Tommy’s cake. After all the monster encounters, flashing lights and loud sounds weren’t really his thing. Photography just wasn’t his passion anymore. Art was still a big interest of his though, and it was actually Heather who introduced painting, since she took lessons as a little kid.

Heather, who is the stand-in bridezilla. Both Billy and Steve are calm about their wedding, caring more about what it means to each other than the actual event. That isn’t that case for miss Heather Ernestine Holloway-Buckley. She wants everything to be perfect. Absolutely. Everything.

From the tablecloths being the same color as Billy’s white and gold suit jacket, to the flower petals scattered in the neatly trimmed grass matching the crown of flowers in Steve’s hair. She demands everyone get matching dresses or suits depending on their preference, so the pictures will turn out perfect. In Jonathan’s place, El takes the photos, taught by her older brother about the craft and determined to capture as many memories as possible.

The rest of the smaller details are kept secret from the boys. Things like who will officiate, the food, how the backyard will be set up, and the music are all a total surprise to keep things exciting.

With everything in place, all they need is to be there. To say their vows and dedicate the rest of their lives to the one they consider their soulmate.

But Steve is terrified. Having nightmares every night leading up to the wedding because he’s scared his blindness is going to ruin something. Even Robin, who has been with him every step of the way, has been warning him numerous times to be careful on that night.

The wedding will be by daylight, made even brighter by small candles on the tables, and fairy lights strung in the trees, but that only means Steve can see basic, blurry silhouettes. If he trips, or runs into something, or someone, on his wedding day, he’ll never live down the embarrassment.

There’s only one day left until the ceremony when he brings it up to Billy, trying to be subtle about it and failing hugely.

At the breakfast table, over pre-game chocolate chip pancakes as Billy called them, Steve asks him, “Are you nervous?”

Even at this stage, Billy gets grumpy in the mornings. He cooked breakfast, sure, but he might as well still be asleep until noon. Usually, thanks to his pain meds, he might take a few half hour power naps up until then. Still, his answer and its gravelly delivery are playful and unserious, “Nah. I’m just eager for the honeymoon stage.”

Only, Steve’s nerves are so wound up, he can’t find it charming like usual. A simple, quiet, “Oh.” is his only response.

Right away, he can tell from the shift in his partner's energy that Billy knows what that means. Some part of Steve is glad he can’t look into Billy’s face and see the pain in his features, from knowing Steve isn’t perfectly alright.

That’s something Steve forgets sometimes, that just because he can’t see someone, doesn’t mean they can’t see him. Every emotion he feels is expressed freely in the look on his face, revealing the anxiety, and the bubbling uncertainty that makes this so hard.

Billy encourages him to talk about it, “Come on, Stevie. Spill. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

Something tells Steve to lie. Maybe it’s the pressure of the wedding being just a little over twenty four hours away at this point. Probably that. His entire life he grew up thinking there was nothing more important than marriage, and now that he has the chance, he’s terrified of things going poorly. So he assures Billy, “Nothing! I get to marry you! What could be wrong?”

“Darling. I see those gears turning. You’re thinking something.” Billy sees through it. Of course he does or he wouldn’t have ever broken down Steve’s mask personality enough to one day become his husband. Billy must worry that he hasn’t done exactly that, because he asks, softer and more quivery than his other words, “Getting cold feet?”

“No! Oh, god Billy no. Never ever.” Steve promises passionately, reaching over to the spot where Billy is for his hand, the responsibility of actually placing their hands together and sharing touch placed onto Billy. Squeezing it gently so he knows he feels him, Steve tries to explain his feelings, “I just. I feel wiggly.”

“Can you tell me what wiggly means?” Billy asks, always asking questions to make sure he understands Steve’s needs enough to help. It’s no mystery why he loves him so much.

That said, it takes a moment of thinking for Steve to put it into words, “Like everything’s shaky and bad. And I’m scared and nervous. And kinda shy. But the bad kind of shy.”

“All that about the wedding?” Billy’s definitely worried about him. Scared that maybe marriage, even if it’s not technically official, is possibly too much pressure for him.

Steve eases that quiet nagging with his response, and takes the blame too, “More like about messing up the wedding.”

Trying to soothe what little tension there has become, Billy softly comforts Steve, “Honey, you’re not going to mess up. There’s no right way to get married.”

“But not everyone who gets married is blind.” Steve mumbles, and Billy realizes it’s that kind of wiggly.

Ever since losing his sight, Steve’s been a bit more quiet. It’s not like he changed, but Billy had a suspicion there was something brewing under the surface. Now that it’s been confirmed that Steves worries come from that, and since fear of the changes disability brought to their lives is something Billy is familiar with himself, he thinks he knows how to help.

“I'm in a wheelchair maybe four days a week, and the others I’m in bed. That’s not exactly typical either.” Is his choice of words.

It seems to work for a moment, since Steve relaxes a bit, but then his mind starts going again and he fishes up a new fear to bring to Billy.

“But you have special braces and stuff if you want to stand up for pictures and dancing.. I can’t just put in a new pair of eyes.” He sounds almost sad.

Billy wants to make sure he knows he doesn’t have to feel that way.

He asks, “Is that what you’re worried about? Dancing?”

Steve shrugs, still physically expressive as a habit despite his inability to see those mannerisms, and says quietly, “A little.”

Billy seems to think that’s a fixable issue, even offering up a quick solution, “Chrissy did cheer for her whole life and she’s married to a paraplegic. She can totally help us with a dance.”

“She’s also very pregnant. I don’t wanna bother-“ Steve denies right away, but Billy’s already wheeling over to the phone before he can really stop him.

“Too bad. I’m already calling her.” Billy’s tone of voice just sounds like he’s smiling mischievously, which has Steve rolling his eyes without meaning anything by it, especially when Billy greets their friend by saying, “Hey, Chris! Got a second, toots?”

•-•-•-•-•

Before Steve knows it, it’s the next day, and the time for practice is over.

Instead of a wedding march, the soft strum of an electric guitar signals Steve to come down the aisle, which is really just a bolt of soft fabric rolled out over the grass and weighed down by dollar tree candles.

He’s not sure who’s playing, but it’s sweet, the soft version of a Cinderella song Billy and Steve both love. It brings a smile to his face, but doesn’t cancel out the clammy feeling he gets when he realizes it’s time to step forward and actually walk down the aisle.

It’s only the officiant at the other end, Billy still inside getting ready for his entrance after Steve’s, so he’s not sure why he’s so scared. With Dustin and Claudia on either side of him, and a hand on the harness his guide dog wears, he should feel stable and supported.

But every step forward makes that intensity of the butterflies in his stomach only grow stronger.

Until something cuts through, the voice of the officiant;

“And here we have Groom number one. Led by the one and only, Miss Peanut Butter Cup the Beagle. She’s feisty, she’ll bite your ass, and she loves to cuddle. Sounds like a great honeymoon.”

Talking like an infomercial, or some kind of weird radio announcer, Murray fucking Bauman is the man who will marry Steve to the love of his life. At least half of his fears dissolve on the spot. This isn’t some all serious, super tense event like his biological parents would have planned for him.

This is a celebration, and all of his friends and family are going to stumble their way through it, so why shouldn’t he?

Him and his Henderson entourage keep walking to the makeshift altar, and Murray keeps talking, “Oh yeah. And the rest. You all know him, you all love him, it’s Dustin! Here to impart his uninvited wisdom unto the newlyweds. And what’s this? A Jewish mom who will adopt any roughian street kid she sees? That’s right folks, it’s Claudia Henderson, and with her she has- her newest adoptee!”

“Stefan Harrington! And today is his big day. Everybody give him a hand. He can’t see your stupid cheeseburger smiles. Give him the entrance you’d give the president if he walked past.” Murray laughs at himself in the midst of the lengthy introduction, “Actually, no. Please don’t do that. Just clap for him.”

All of this makes Steve giggle his way down the aisle, largely forgetting about his fears of ruining the ceremony. After all, with Murray in charge, there are no rules to abide by.

When he makes it to his spot, and Dustin and Claudia step away, Steve has a one-on-one with Murray, “How you doing, kid?”

Recognizing there’s no time to dive into the nuances, Steve says simply, “I’m okay.”

“Just okay? This is the real deal! You gotta be pumped!” Murray encourages him, which makes Steve remember that there’s something holding him back.

“I’m too wiggly.” He sounds defensive.

Murray on the other hand just sounds happy, and eternally positive, as he suggests, “Shake out those wiggles. C’mon, I’ll do it with you.”

Together the two of them shake and flap and wiggle, a moment that never would’ve happened without the support Steve has gotten from his family. There was a time when, although he wasn’t very good at masking, he’d have been too ashamed to openly stim in front of an entire wedding party of the most important people in his life. Now though, by the end of this, he’s giggling and smiling and having the time of his life.

Checking in again, Murray asks him, “That better?”

“A little.” Steve shrugs, struggling to assign any qualities to the big big feelings he has. Feelings are so hard right now.

He’s getting married.

“C’mon, what can I do to make it best?” Murray keeps trying, something of another parent to Steve. Even making another joke, “I mean, I can start taking my clothes off, but I don’t think Joyce would be too happy.”

A little bit haunted by that mental image, but mostly amused, Steve shakes his head, and gives his best response, “Just, can you read slowly? And not tease me so much during the real thing?”

Instantly Murray agrees lightheartedly, “A deals a deal. Smack me in the head if I screw it up, alright. This is the only time I’ll ever tell you that because I am perfect otherwise.”

It’s the guitar melody rising up that cuts off their conversation, and suddenly Steve’s heart rate is picking up again. This is really happening.

Murray puts it not so gracefully, “Oops. I’ll stop running my mouth now. Looks like your other half is coming.”

Since Steve can’t see what’s happening, Murray goes back into his narration mode, which Steve appreciates a lot.

“Coming up next folks is our half off sale. That’s right, now you can get two for the price of one. Just add a wedding band- Sold separately.” Murray jokes, earning a little scoff from Joyce, which makes Steve laugh softly.

He’s grateful for the dry, cheesy sense of humor Murray has, otherwise he might be totally panicking right now.

“What’s this? We have a flower girl, people. Leading the way is miss Chrissy with her lovely paper flower petals. Behind her, to match her developing appreciation for all things butch, Heather does not have flowers. Oh no. She has seashells. Imported from the fine beaches of the dollar store they were purchased at.”

It’s probably rude, but Steve loves the mental image it gives him. He can imagine Heather in her suit, and Chrissy in her flowy dress, decorating the aisle with delicate little pieces of Billy and Steve’s love. The best part is he can hear them laughing at the jokes about themselves, so he can imagine the smiles on their faces.

His favorite part is the next introduction, the one that refers to his culture most, “Last but not least, Jane brought some sea glass, since there will be no stomping of any glass until our two grooms get some functioning body parts. Since that will never happen, join me in telling the Jewish ancestors to suck it and deal. But not groom number two. He’s too catholic.”

The trio of groomsmaids stand off to the side, their shoes crunching on the grass, and Steve knows what that means. It means Billy is coming.

“Speaking of, and without further ado- escorted by his creepy little sibling Max, here he is. Come on down William.”

The walk is slow, with Billy using his limb braces and forearm crutches instead of his wheelchair for this special moment. Steve can be patient. He’s wanted this to happen since his third date with Billy, when he brought training treats for Peanut Butter Cup and a sensory necklace for Steve. What’s a few more minutes?

The pacing does however warrant more Murray monologuing, which is something of a treat anyways.

“Ooh, not too shabby for a man with no usable limbs. Speaking of, why exactly did we just turn the aisle into a safety hazard? Oh well. At least if he falls on his ass, he’ll look good doing it.”

The comment must remind him to give a description of Billy for his sightless groom to be, “A diamond earring, tons of mascara, way too much hairspray in that fluffy perm- I’m starting to feel underdressed.”

And then he’s there. Steve can feel his energy, the radiant, sunshiney happiness Billy always produces. Since there are no rules, he decides to reach out his palms, the sign that means he wants to hold Billy’s hands. The weight and warmth of the touch when Billy obliges adds more butterflies to Steve’s chest.

He’s smiling like an idiot, and if he had to guess, he’d say Billy probably is too.

After a few moments, they’re interrupted by Murray clearing his throat, “That’s it? No hello?”

Steve can practically hear the eye roll Billy gives as he speaks, “Hi Murray. Don’t forget this is my wedding.”

“Ohhh. And here I thought this was a bat mitzvah. Don’t panic, but I think I grabbed the wrong book.” Murray pretend-whispers, letting the imaginary tension build before he pats them both on the back, and assures, “Kidding. Sure I was the worst choice for this, I don’t know shit about romance and never will, but I can do my job.”

The guitar music ends, and the residual chattering and laughing stops too. It’s time. Steve’s hands are shaking. Billy squeezes them once reassuringly.

“Once upon a time, William Reuben Hargrove met Stefan Mihai Carson Harrington; They fought, they fucked, blah blah blah, they caught feelings- and a monster possession- Oh, whatever. Point is, they’re getting married now! Two souls united and all that jazz. So are you ready to say ‘I do?’” Murray rushes through a fake service, earning groans from much of the audience.

And from Steve, who whines, “Murrayyy!”

“Fine, fine. But you're gonna pay me after this, right? I’m a licensed therapist now. My services aren’t free anymore.” Murray snarks, totally playful and unserious.

He’s not the only one who can do sarcasm, since the entire wedding party starts to boo. Steve is pretty sure he hears Carol, his strongest advocate since they were kids, shout the loudest to, “Get on with it!”

•-•-•-•-•-•

An hour later, they were married. Mister and mister Hargrove.

In the style of a picnic of sorts, everyone had brought food to share. From Claudia’s mac n cheese, to Heather and Robins take on a vegan sushi, their newest cooking experiment, to Sue Sinclairs potato salad that she sent with Lucas even though she couldn’t be there herself- there was a little something for everyone. Steve personally loved the Zeytoon Parvardeh that Joyce had made from an old family recipe. Billy preferred the ceviche Argyle brought, so he’d fed Steve all his olives, a nice romantic moment that had Steve blushing.

By now the actual party aspect of the day has begun, after the cake had been cut and the wine poured. Joyce limited the amount of alcohol allowed to be served to two bottles, one white and one red, to respect the boundaries of those like Billy recovering among them. Tommy and Robin probably have drunk the majority of that portion, and the two of them are tipsy, pestering Eddie over at his makeshift music booth.

While all the noise and everything started picking up, Steve had settled into a little corner by himself to stay calm. He hears someone approaching by the sound of footsteps, and turns his head their way, to make sure he can hear them properly.

Turns out it’s Joyce, who enthusiastically says, “Congratulations, sweetie!”

Steve thanks her, and reaches for her hand, to make a connection that will make communication easier, “Thank you, Mrs. Byers.”

Joyce rubs his knuckles, her tone soft and kind, “I hope Murray didn’t ruin your ceremony. Would you believe me if I said that was the toned down version of his original plan?”

Steve brushes it off in stride, “Somehow, yes, but we loved it, Mrs B. Billy hasn’t laughed like that in a while.”

“I’m glad. This was your day. All about you!” Joyce enthuses, sounding a little relieved to hear her friend hadn’t messed anything up, “I bet you feel so happy!”

Steve just nods, and flaps his free hand, the words escaping him but the physicality of happiness easy to express.

“Can I hug you, sweetie?” Joyce asks, delighted by Steve’s own happiness.

Now, Steve isn’t the most hug friendly person, but today, a nice tight embrace from Joyce Byers sounds like a much needed break. A respite and a safe place.

He tells her, “Yes please.”

And so she wraps her arms around him and squeezes the life out of him, gushing, “Oooh, I’m so so proud of you! You’ve come so far!”

All Steve can say is a bashful, “Thank you, Mrs. B.”

The hug lasts maybe a few minutes, of Steve taking deep breaths of perfume and cuddling soft brown hair, just savoring the whole thing and the therapeutic effect it has on him.

But all too soon, his worst fear is reality- It’s time for his first dance with Billy.

Eddie announces it, since he’s something of the coordinator now, “Looks like it’s time for a sloooow dance. Where are my two grooms?”

Joyce sounds thrilled on the other hand, “Are you ready, dear?”

Steve physically winces, “Actually…”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll do just fine. Just breathe.” Joyce puts her hand on his back and helps him catch his breath for a second, before offering sympathetically, “He’s waiting for you, sweetie. Do you want me to walk you to him?”

Nervously, Steve nods. Earlier today, he married the love of his life. That was the easy part. Dancing in front of literally everyone he’s ever cared about is not easy.

Joyce is kind enough to walk him to Billy, leaving Peanut Butter Cup asleep under Steve’s chair. Letting him do it himself would’ve probably ended in him knocking Billy over, since his braces are all that’s holding him up. Instead he gets to settle into Billy’s embrace, with Joyce’s help to sturdy them both.

His head rested on Billy’s shoulder, and Billy’s arms around his waist, toes together, they started to get into the music.

Their dance song is fitting, a song Billy had learned marching in the streets for the rights of the disabled like them. On Being Special by Sue Napolitano. A beautiful poem all about family and love.

It sets a rhythm good for swaying, and soft little shuffles. Getting lost in it, Steve closes his eyes, blocking out what little light gets through, and lets his husband guide him. Billy knows the song by heart, and, pressing his lips to give a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead, he mumbles the lyrics against his skin.

Even though there’s a lot of their friends there, in that moment it’s just them. Center stage, dancing on scrap lauan in Mrs. Byers’ backyard to the gentle crackling and crooning of a beat up old stereo, since Eddie and the band didn’t think they could do it justice.

Not even the thunking and clacking of Billy’s hardware is enough to take anyone out of the moment. This is them. Their reality.

Their disabled love story.

Steve is thankful he had Murray and Joyce and Chrissy and Billy to ease him through the nerves that led to this very moment. He did it. He had his first dance, with the love of his life, on his wedding day. Steve is maybe crying happy tears by the time it’s over, but he can hear from the general sniffles that a few other people are too.

When the song ends, there’s a beat of silence where nobody really knows what to do next. Steve can tell just from the energy shift that they’re wondering if they should help the newlyweds off the dance floor. But Steve doesn’t want to let go yet, and since they don’t move, that must be a cue for some folks to join them in dancing.

Or, that’s what Tommy interprets it to mean, because he’s stomping over towards them and shouting, “Let’s fucking goooo!!”

Steve guesses he dragged Carol along too, because she’s shriek-laughing his name, “Tomàs!!”

Their boldness inspires other couples to join in. Jonathan and Argyle, Chrissy and Eddie and their little two year old, Heather and Robin, even Hopper and Joyce, after a little coercion to get the grumpy old cop off his ass to have some fun too. The kids all come up together, leaving just a few stragglers, one being Murray. His dance partner of choice happens to be miss Peanut Butter Cup, bribed with a few blueberries he’d grabbed from the snack table.

They’re all together, and they’re all happy. So fucking happy.

•-•-•

A few songs in, Billy taps on Steve’s cheek, after giving him a small little kiss, to alert him to a conversation.

He asks softly, “Sweetheart, Patrick is dancing all by himself. Haven’t talked to him in a good while either. D’you think I could-“

But Steve doesn’t even make him finish that justification. He’s overdue for a break, and loves their friends just as much as Billy, so he’d actually prefer it if he did go to Patrick for a bit.

He tells his husband, “You don’t have to ask, babe. Go see your friend.”

“You’re sure?” Billy checks in again.

Steve nods, and gives him another small kiss to seal the deal, “I need a rest anyways. Big feelings.”

It’s still hesitantly that Billy pulls away, and only after a tight embrace, but he lets Steve go get his dog off of Murray and take his seat back in the corner. On his way away, he hears Billy call playfully, “Hey, McKinney! Get your ass over here!”

•-•-•-•-•

Out of nowhere, Steve hears the tapping of little feet running right towards him.

He’s already deduced who it is, based on the fact that there’s only one little tyke here, but the bubbly excited voice that falls to him gives it away even more, “Teevee!!”

Little Jackson is an outgoing boy, his enthusiasm curbed by nothing. Except maybe bumble bees, since he’s afraid of those, but there’s no buzzing demons around, so he’s all giggles as he pulls on Steve’s jacket sleeve.

On instinct, Steve picks him up, and blows a raspberry on the toddlers chubby little cheek, “Jackie!! There’s my favorite little groomsman!”

Jackson kicks his legs as Steve tips him onto his back, tickling his tummy and laughing along with him. Chrissy tells him he’s not as open with other people, but Steve has always been good with kids, so maybe it’s true.

Something about their pure hearts reminds him of who he’s always wanted to be. Their wonder and their fascination with everything just lifts his heart up. And at the moment, gives him the courage to get back on his feet and have some more fun.

Together with little Jackson, he twirls and spins, earning an endless stream of giggles from his friends’ baby boy.

“Wheee, you like to dance, huh?” Steve asks him, and immediately gets a very enthusiastic response.

“Yah!!!” Jackson even claps his little hands, a stim he’s clearly picked up from Eddie. Their little one is autistic and has adhd just like his dad, which probably also has to do with why he loves Steve so much.

And also why he has an abrupt energy crash and falls asleep without warning, his curly head laying on Steve’s shoulder, drooling down his back. They got their pictures already, so he doesn’t mind the mess. He just quietly takes Jackson back to a seat and cradles him softly, listening to the ongoing party and reveling in that bliss.

At some point, Billy snuck up on him, announcing his presence with a soft pet name, “Sweetheart.”

“Yes, my love?” Steve hums, turning his head in the general direction of Billy.

He’s not expecting what Billy is about to say.

“What’s the next step after marriage?”

Because of how random it seems, Steve has to think about what he’s asking, taking a moment before he remembers the old rhyme from childhood, “Uh-uh. No baby carriages yet, bubs. Give it at least a week.”

Billy is persistent, if only playfully, suggesting, “There’s always the honeymoon.”

Patting little Jackson’s back, Steve just responds vaguely, “We’ll see.”

All of it is lighthearted teasing, and a little bit of their classic pigtail pulling. They’ll talk about their future seriously when they’re ready.

That’s something Steve loves the most about Billy. He always considers him first, not societal conventions or outrageous expectations. Just Steve, and what he wants or feels comfortable with. Soulmates, he’d decided.

After all, internalized ableism be damned, what could be better than marrying his soulmate?

~~~~~~~~

Hi all! If you’ve read this far, please don’t click off!

As both mod and contributor to this event, Ive been inspired to use my fics to boost charities that aid the disabled community!

For this day, I’ve chosen the Friends of Disabled Adults and Children.

This is a charity that has a mission of “[assisting] individuals with disabilities… [by providing] free or low-cost wheelchairs and other home medical equipment.” This includes cars, tubs, power chairs, stairlifts, and more.

While founded as a religious organization, they serve all disabled community members with no limitations, and have a board of 35 members that work together to provide the best care.

They accept online donations, mail-in checks, purchases from their thrift store, or donations of gently used mobility equipment.

Friends of Disabled Adults and Children is based in Tucker, Georgia and can provide assistance to disabled individuals within a 25 mile radius of their facility. On their website, you can find statewide partners of FODAC for more resources.

Here is a link to their site: https://fodac.org

#disabledbillyandsteveweek #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #disabled steve harrington #disabled billy hargrove #jewish steve harrington #there’s so many other characters I’m not gonna tag them all but know it features lots of background ships and characters #my writing #ej writer

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radiant-reid · 2 years

Text

Beyond Breaking // Chapter Four

False Flags

disclaimer: i'm not an expert on anything regarding divorce so this is just what i could find from the best of my research

Summary: It all feels like a fever dream, but the feelings are very real

Content Warnings: divorce, mention of Spencer’s drug addiction, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 7.0k

Masterlist/ Navigation Taglist

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One thing Y/n hated was lawyers.

It was ironic since she was one herself, but they were the most gossipy pack of egomaniacs she had ever known.

Family lawyers were a whole different group. She had successfully avoided getting whispered about at work, but she knew it would be different once it was official.

Everything would be different when things were official.

The fear hadn’t properly hit Y/n until the night before she had to do something she never thought she would be considering, like some sick delayed suffering that waited until she was completely alone with a terrifying calendar event upcoming to strike.

Spencer Reid was her person.

The person she thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with was gone. Not in the way the tiny voice in her head said it would be every time he left to hunt down serial killers. He wasn't gone because he was injured or dead. This time he was gone because he wanted to be.

It was something he promised he would never do. Back when he swore he would be home every night he was in DC, the problem was him sleeping in the office during the weeks after Gideon died. What Y/n wouldn't do to have that as their main problem now. She would be able to do the same thing to support him, only if he let her.

As her cheeks grew damper, it became more obvious that Spencer wasn't coming back and that his departure was because he didn't love her. Couldn't. That was the word he used: perfect to deflect all blame off himself.

There was no one she blamed but him, and she hadn't let herself feel that way until she was looking at the framed wedding photo of them- one of the happiest days of their lives- and the text under it; just their names with a heart in the middle. It was sappy, she could admit that, but it was simple. Simple enough that if it wasn't her fault, it was Spencer's fault. What hurt the most was that she would give him every piece of love she had in her body if he let her.

The common denominator in every other argument or tricky situation they'd been in -that wasn't a factor anymore- was that Spencer loved her.

When they loved each other, they could get through anything, and she was still so madly in love with him that she couldn't bring herself to throw out the photo. Spencer in the photo with his wide grin, straight tie, tidy hair, and his eyes only focused on her wasn't the Spencer who was around anymore. There actually wasn't one thing she saw in common between them. Two different people with the same face.

Her sobs were a fraction of how loud they could be because of her determination not to wake up the little Reids. There was no way, at all, that she was going to tell them. The situation was Spencer's fault, so he could be the one to ruin the idea of love that their children had. And she was determined not to feel bad when they eventually hated him for drastically changing their family dynamic.

If he wouldn't love her, she would make sure they did. And when they grew up and saw the thousands of photos they had with their mom, remembered the memories with one of their parents, and asked where their dad was, that would be her revenge.

But Y/n wasn't thinking about that when she was off to the best family lawyer she could find on Monday. She never knew until now, but the FBI seemingly has everyone needed for a divorce on retainer, prepared for the next couple that breaks under the pressure.

Rossi and Krystall had insisted on babysitting the kids at the Reids' house, citing that they didn't want all the differences to add up in their brains. So with kisses on Maddie, Bennett, and Florence's forehead and some pitiful smiles from their babysitters, Y/n was on another stress-inducing drive to another car park she'd never noticed when she drove past.

"Naturally, I'm sure you know how this process works." Amelia Mary Allen, degree of Juris Doctor- according to the framed certificate that hung on the wall above her desk- said.

Y/n nodded her head, the complete emptiness apparent on her face. "Yes, I want to be the petitioner rather than him." She replied. Her experience and the cases she'd heard about made it impossible for her to wait any longer than she needed to file the petition.

She was finished with playing the game on his terms, and she wasn't going to let him file a divorce petition first and get in writing his wishes for who gets the kids, the money, and the houses.

Even though she loathed the idea of not being his wife, she wasn't going to put herself at a disadvantage for him anymore when there was nothing she could possibly do to make him love her again.

"I understand." Her lawyer replied. "Let's start with the basics; social security number and names." Finally, a not challenging question for Y/n to answer. It wasn't complicated like the ones in her head. "Grounds for divorce?"

For a moment she sat there in silence. "He'll agree." She whispered, wanting to cry with the shame she wasn't worth Spencer caring. She wished she would have the confidence to set easier terms, too, but that love didn't just go away. "So we can separate without cohabitation for 6 months."

The lawyer laid down her pen, stopping writing. "You shouldn't get divorced if you don't want to." She advised.

"I love my kids, and as much as I love Spencer..." Y/n trailed off, trying to explain how she was feeling like she was sitting on the therapist's couch all over again. "I don't know him anymore."

"That's fair." She agreed. "What are your terms?"

That was the big question Y/n had been thinking about since she realized this was the step she had to take. "I want physical custody. His work at the BAU means he's away on cases on average for maybe 3 days with a day or two in between during the work week which would prohibit him from providing a stable home where he sees them frequently."

"I agree." The lawyer said. "Even if it goes to court, a judge would never grant him sole physical custody." Even though Y/n knew that was true before the meeting, it gave her reassurance to hear it. "Legal custody and visitation?"

"I want us to both have legal custody." She stated. She didn't know what his actions would be when she was involved, but she did know he wouldn't purposefully harm their children. "For visitation, on the 90 days he's working for the BAU, I want him to have every second weekend, and if he chooses to, see them throughout the week. He can come to whichever extracurricular activity he chooses. During the 30 days that he's teaching, I want to do 2-2-3 custody so they can see us equally." It killed her that for an entire month, she'd see them only 15 days and she let a single tear run down her cheek at the thought of all that missed time. "When they're older, I think a week each is more appropriate." Then the dreaded reminder that this was permanent snuck up on her.

It was so kind and far too forgiving to someone who had shattered her heart. But she was desperately trying not to let her reaction to Spencer's actions affect her choices about their wellbeing, and she felt so good about herself for it.

"How about holidays?"

"I want both Christmas, Easter, and thanksgiving." It was the first selfish thing she'd said. Imagining them opening presents on Christmas morning, hunting for chocolate or having a family meal without her there was heartbreaking. "At least a week around the dates so I can travel with them. And I want their birthdays, but he can come to their parties. Any public holidays we can split." She hated having to compromise on her time with them. "For summer, he can have two weeks if he wants and he can have Father's Day. Oh, and Halloween, he can have that."

Again, she stopped writing and looked up at Y/n. "It's your favorite, isn't it?" Y/n really didn't know how she was so readable, and she frown at the statement. "Sorry, I just saw your lockscreen."

"Oh," Y/n answered in realization. "Yeah, but I only started liking it because it's his favorite."

Then there was some more scribbling before another question. "How about dividing property?"

"We own a house which I want to keep and eventually sell since I'm going to have the majority of custody." She decided. Living there, where they used to be a couple, wasn't ideal, but she didn't want to change too much all at once.

"Okay, the last thing we have to go over is finances and assets." She prompted.

"I make slightly more money than he does." She said transparently. "So I don't want alimony, but I want him to pay for half of everything for the kids, including their private school tuition. For the money we have... I think I want my percentage of income out of the total, preferably in stocks." The finances didn't worry her too much, but she was going to have to get an accountant because Spencer had been doing her taxes for years. "I want to keep my car, all the furniture, and my family heirlooms. Basically, everything that I use in the house."

The room fell silent aside from some writing. "It's a fair settlement. If he doesn't agree and it goes to trial, I would think a judge would side with you."

"So that's it?" Y/n asked.

"Pretty much, as soon as you're ready, you can sign whenever you're ready, and he'll get served." She answered.

Her fingers were shaking so much that she knew she wouldn't be able to physically sign it. "Can I sign in a few days?"

"Of course." She answered again, standing up to shake her hand before Y/n left.

Emily tried to talk some sense into Spencer when he returned to her place after therapy in tears. She thought the couple would work it out there, be provided with some strategies to fix things, and go back to the lives and love they deserved to have.

What made even less sense to her was Spencer's sudden inability to express his feelings to Y/n. Y/n had just always been the person he talked to, for years, and Emily understood prison complicated things and made Spencer closed off, but he was meant to talk to her. It's what he always had done.

But then he told her he thought she would go and see a lawyer, and she almost called Y/n to figure out what the fuck was actually going on. He made her promise she wouldn't, and she couldn't argue with him when a lot of their life was private.

"What are you doing today?" Emily asked, sitting next to him at the breakfast bar of her apartment, where he was drinking his coffee like it was just another Monday.

"Not getting back together with Y/n, if that's what you're asking," Spencer told her, clearly still raw from therapy a few days ago. "And I can't go back to the BAU because my time's not up." He groveled.

Emily gave him a stern look. "Reid." She warned in a tone he knew meant he needed to stop sulking.

"Sorry." He apologized, rubbing his eyes. "Y/n said I could see the kids, but she had an 'appointment' this morning." He continued, using air quotes.

"Oh, Spence, I'm sorry." Emily sympathized, resting a hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. She knew Spencer's inference was usually right and if he thought Y/n was at a lawyer's office, she probably was. And that only meant he would inevitably be served and they would be divorced. 10 years of history were about to be gone.

Spencer just shrugged, holding back the tears clouding up his hazel eyes and taking another sip of coffee. "I think maybe I'll take them to the park or the museum." He said, changing the topic to something less heartbreaking. "I don't wanna tell them so I'll just drop them back to Y/n's and tell them I have a case." He decided, trying to think of the most painless way for things to go.

"Well, they're always welcome here if you're keeping them overnight." Emily reminded him.

"Thank you, Emily. I appreciate it." Spencer said, giving her as much of a smile as he could muster. Things would suck a lot more if he didn't have such good friends.

Emily nodded at him. "Of course. I'm going into the office, but everyone else is off for the day." She informed him, moving around the kitchen to pour a travel mug of coffee to put in her handbag.

After another text from Y/n confirming he could come around, Spencer stopped moping around Emily's apartment and tried to put on a smile as he got ready.

He switched his socks out three times, trying to find a combination that didn't say too much. It was stupid, really, but what socks he wore spoke louder than words. Even though she didn't tell him till later, Y/n had profiled he was proposing when he subconsciously wore the same mismatched socks that he'd worn on their first date. His socks had to be neutral.

The drive was longer than it felt when he fled to Emily's, and it only gave him more time to think: something that had become dangerous. Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, he knocked on the front door of his own house in an odd twist of his life.

"Daddy!" Maddie squealed, flinging the door open and jumping into his arms.

"Hi, munchkin." He greeted her, effortlessly catching her and spinning her around in a hug. "Are you allowed to open the door without an adult?"

She pouted when he put her down, those big brown eyes matching his own. "No. Sorry."

Spencer smiled at her, making sure she knew he wasn't mad, just concerned about her safety. "Where's everyone else?" He asked, looking past her into the house. He really wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to see Y/n with how they'd left things and the fact she was most likely meeting with her lawyer that morning.

"C'mon." She instructed, reaching out for his hand and pulling him through the house. On instinct, Spencer turned to lock the door and took off his shoes.

It was clear Maddie didn't notice the stress in his demeanor or any of the tension between her parents. She dragged him upstairs, finding Bennett and Florence in the living room, a cuteness overload as they played with their toys together. As soon as they saw him, their eyes lit up and they came sprinting over and gave him the hugs reserved for only him. They chatted to him about what they had been doing like they did whenever he came back from a case and Spencer realized he didn't deserve the obvious affection he was being given in excess.

"Spencer, can I talk to you?" There was that angelic voice he had listened to for 10 years. It was slightly different though, wavering more than it usually did.

His eyes locked on hers, and he got up from where he was crouched down playing with the train tracks and walked over to where she was standing in the doorway dressed in jeans and a cardigan. "What's up?" He asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. His nerves were evident in how he shuffled on his feet.

"I was, uh, just thinking that they could stay with you overnight... if you had somewhere to go." She offered, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. It was so awkward to be around him and that felt wrong.

"What?" Spencer asked although he'd heard the question perfectly.

"I mean, they're your kids too, and they missed you." She justified, unable to read what was in his tone. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

He wasn't going to reject such a good offer, not when the last time they spoke in person she looked so hurt that he thought she might never speak to him without going through a lawyer again.

"Yes, please." He accepted, looking back at the three wonderful children for a second. "I was planning on taking them to the zoo with Derek and Hank, so maybe we'll stay there."

She was grateful he told her without any prompting, and as much as she hated the fact it was happening, they would make good co-parents. "I trust you with them." She emphasized the last two words, making sure he got the point. "Just wanna make sure they're okay." That was the only reason she was even talking to him. Had things happened differently and they didn't have kids, she wouldn't have spoken to him until he apologized.

"Are you going to be okay without them?" Spencer found himself asking before he could have it.

She laughed dryly, but she looked like she was about to cry. Just the welling of tears in her eyes-tears he caused- was enough to have his heart panging with guilt. Shaking her head, she glared at him for a moment before walking past him and into the living room.

"Who wants to have a super fun sleepover with their cousins tonight?" She asked them, enthusiasm, albeit fake, in her tone.

It was enough to have them bouncing around, excited for a late-night, movie, and take-out. He watched her for longer than he should have, unable to stop his mind's spiraling thoughts.

Then she left and came back from Maddie's bedroom with a backpack to hand to Spencer. "All their sleepover stuff is in there." She informed him, fingers brushing over his as she handed him the pink, sparkly backpack.

"Thanks," Spencer replied, not commenting on the similarity in how he had already had his bag packed when he left. "Who's ready to go?" He asked, turning back to the kids.

There was a chorus of affirmations, and they excitedly raced to the door to put their shoes on, leaving Y/n and Spencer together without a conversation buffer.

"Uh, so we should m-maybe talk... sometime." He offered, shifting his weight on his feet.

Although Y/n had no idea what they were going to talk about, she nodded. "Y-yeah, sure."

And just like that, he was gone again with the three kids. She tried not to think about them as she went about her day, knowing they would be having fun and their little brains wouldn't be able to theorize about what was going on.

After the zoo, Spencer didn't even think about asking Morgan to have the kids stay over. He did, however, make a phone call to someone else before letting Emily know he wouldn't be coming back to her apartment that night.

Y/n didn't wait for him later that night, but it was hard not to focus on him and the kids when she got the text: Laine noticed Wren left her bear at home, she's asleep now, but if she wakes up and it's not here... can I come and get it?

It was so much more domestic than Spencer had been in the past few months with her, talking about their kids and home and Florence’s goddamn Cubs bear, and all it made her feel was physically sick.

It felt like the start of what their new relationship was going to be: Spencer texting about things related to their kids in a friendly tone. And she cried- for what felt like the 100th time that day- as soon as she came to that realization.

She was sitting in the kitchen drinking wine and trying to pretend none of it was happening when Spencer walked in. "Hey, it's just me!" He called out like he always did.

It started after what happened with Diane Turner, and she couldn't stand anyone sneaking up on her at home, even Spencer snaking his arms around her waist holding flowers had sent her into a panic attack 5 years ago. Another scar left by the FBI.

Spencer walked through the hallway and into the kitchen like he knew exactly where she would be. "Hey." He greeted her again, looking at her figure sitting on one of the barstools. "Drinking?" He asked the question without any judgment.

"Want some?" She offered, expecting a refusal.

"Do we have any scotch?" He asked, not waiting for an answer as he entered the walk-in pantry to look for some. He shook off the feeling of being a stranger in his own house, while Y/n shook off the use of we.

He poured some, more than he should have, into a glass before pressing it against the ice dispenser on the fridge. Y/n tried not to focus her eyes on him, not to think about him like he was still someone who loved her so she stared at the marble on the bench and tried to memorize the pattern while the clock ticked each awkward second of silence past like it was a taunt.

"Where are they?" She questioned, feeling terrible she hadn't confirmed it since they left. Her mind was such a mess, and she relied on the fact they were safe with Spencer.

Spencer rested one hand against the cold bench top, the other raising his glass to his lips. The alcohol made him wince a little like he was still 21 and having his first drink with the team. "With Derek and Savannah." He lied flawlessly.

It went completely unnoticed by Y/n, who nodded. "Good, they love hanging out with Hank."

It hit her then that she might not get to see them. Would they be claiming friends? Spencer would get JJ, Y/n would get Dave, and there would be a fight for Penelope and Luke.

"Do you think they know?" She blurted out before she could stop herself, the white wine making her bolder than she wanted to be.

"No," Spencer answered quickly. "Maybe Laine is suspicious. I don't know, I always knew my parents were splitting up because they argued." He reminisced, and it drew tears to his eyes at the fact his actions put his family in a situation closer to the one he grew up in than he ever wanted them to be. Y/n bit her bottom lip, ignoring almost all of her thoughts. "We should talk about how we approach that."

She shook her head so quickly that his head whipped up so he could look at her. "Please, not tonight." She whimpered, hating how pathetic it sounded.

Spencer's heart sunk at how upset she seemed, and the guilt was nauseating. But he couldn't talk about it. Not now, and maybe never. "What is with Wren and pretzels?" He asked, completely changing the conversation.

After a light laugh, she gave the rhetorical answer Spencer was looking for. "I have no idea." In a moment of bravery, she met his stare. "She was back at it again today?"

Her eyes were back on the bench, not lingering on him for another second. The crash in her confidence was so drastic, and he knew he didn't have the right to feel anything about it, but he did.

"Yeah." He answered. "Made me stop at three gas stations to get her a packet before falling asleep and spilling them in the car. Good thing He-Hank loves them too."

"I know people said youngest children of three are the wild ones, but, boy, I was not expecting her." She commented with a laugh that was too genuine for the awkward relationship between them.

Of the three kids, Florence was definitely the untamed one. She was so much more carefree than either of her parents, obsessive over her teddy and pretzels, and so hilarious there were multiple giggling fits each day. Her wild Reid curls only added to her attitude.

Madelaine, naturally, was the independent one being the first child. She was stubborn like Spencer, thankfully getting his intelligence as well, and always the leader.

Bennett was the charming middle child, mostly unphased by whatever his sisters were doing. He was the sweet one, and both of his parents always made sure that didn't get taken advantage of and that he knew he was of equal importance to them.

Spencer laughed too, and it felt like a moment of peace. "I was actually reading a survey about how having three children is the most stressful."

"I did always want another one." She commented before she could stop herself, blushing from more than the wine when she realized it was said aloud.

"After p-prison," Spencer recalled, not making a remark about how improbable it was that they didn't have one after all the time they spent together when he got out. "Why didn't-"

"I didn't want a Band-Aid baby, Spencer." She cut him off harshly before he could finish the question. "No child should feel like their purpose is keeping a sinking ship afloat."

He didn't bite his lip or make any attempt at staying silent. "We weren't sinking then." He bit back quietly.

It was the worst way to argue, she had come to realize. The snide remarks let arguments go on for hours- or days- longer than they needed to.

"Well, we must have started at some point because now we're here." She stated flatly and with so much disdain he physically flinched.

"I would have had a baby then." He said, almost entirely ignoring her point and imagining, foolishly, what could have been. "Another sweet boy like Ben to even the ratio out or another girl as independent as Laine... or as wild as Wren."

Y/n, too, could play the ignore-any-problems-and-change-the-subject game. "The nicknames you give them always... interest me." She told him, trying purposely to phrase it in a way that it wasn't a compliment. Spencer only frowned at her, not a word passing his lips as he waited for her to elaborate. "Wren Reid?"

"True." Spencer agreed, chuckling the slightest amount. "I could have thought that one out better."

"I thought you'd stop after the rhyming of Maddie's 'Laine' and Raine, but a first name/middle name combo wasn't enough." She said and it sounded so similar to a standard conversation between two parents in love with each other and their kids that they just indulged in the fantasy.

"Wren Reid is only an imperfect rhyme!" He defended himself playfully.

The flipping from teasing to squabbling was so exhausting so Y/n picked a side. "At least you didn't do any sadistic nicknaming of Bennett." She joked.

He laughed harder than he should have, earning a frown from her. "Y/n, his initials spell out bar." He deadpanned.

Her mouth dropped open at the realization: Bennett Aaron Reid. "How did I not..?" She trailed off into giggles. She wasn't drunk, just tired and an emotional mess. "That is so bad."

"If it helps, I didn't realize until he was at least three." Spencer offered, finishing the final sip of his scotch.

She was still laughing, getting out of her seat, and walking around the kitchen island to put the wine glass in the dishwasher. "It absolutely does not help." She assured him, holding out her hand so he could give her his glass.

His fingers were warm against hers, and their hands touched for longer than they needed to. Those sparks, the electrical current, couldn't just be something she was feeling run through her veins.

She straightened back up once she shut the dishwasher and didn't put any additional distance between them. Spencer's eyes were locked on her firmer that time, desperately trying to work up a profile.

The hand he had resting on the bench came up to rest against her cheek, and the final thing grounding either of them was gone. Y/n dove in, knowing there was no way he would cross that time unless he knew how reciprocated it was.

Her lips were so unfamiliar to his, but they fell perfectly in sync. It took Spencer a moment to realize it wasn't a dream, and his eyes closed as he kissed her more firmly. He kissed her with all the red inside him; the passion, the anger, the love, the heat. All the most intense bottled-up emotions flowed out of him. Y/n melted against him, everything in her demeanor going from tightly wound to relaxed with a few seconds of kissing. He knew about the effects kissing had on serotonin, but never had he seen an experiment so effective.

He pulled away when his brain kicked in, and he realized they needed a moment to think about what had taken over them.

"183 days starting tomorrow?" Y/n asked in reference to what she'd heard earlier in the day. A few days didn't matter to her, not when her lips were an inch from his and she didn't feel so empty.

Spencer wished he could believe she knew they needed to avoid any form of cohabitation for 6 months because she was a lawyer, not because she'd seen a lawyer, but he didn't. And he hated the fact she thought he would agree to divorce even though his actions showed he would. The need for her to hope he would fight for their family was the most illogical and unfair emotion, but it was so persistent in his mind.

"How much have you had to drink?" He asked, able to taste each note of the wine on his lips.

"One." She assured him, annoyed he didn't just want to fuck her. The rules were all gone now, and she had burnt the playbook. "Now shut up."

His lips closed, indicating he wanted what was about to happen, and she wrapped her fists around the material of his polo where the lapels of his jacket usually were to pull his body flat against hers.

"Starting tomorrow." He mumbled against her lips in agreement.

It was something he'd said to himself so many times when he was trying to quit Dilaudid. He would stick the needle in his arm time and time again in his old, dark apartment when he was at his absolute lowest, pretending it would be the last time and that tomorrow would be different.

Spencer was an expert at pretending. You have to be when you're in prison or in a hostage situation, and if he thought about it hard enough, he could overlook how fucked up the entire situation was. His new talent had replaced the talent he used to have for seeing the consequence of his actions.

Spencer held her face more firmly that time, his arms boxing hers in. He angled his hips more until he had turned them around, and her hips were trapped between his and the bench. Her brain was spinning, the lust eating up each negative thought.

They were still so in sync that it was hard to believe they hadn't done anything like this in the three months they'd drifted apart. Y/n bit down on his bottom lip with enough force that he whimpered and gave her the chance to slip her tongue into his mouth. In a quick motion, she was sitting up on the kitchen countertop, the coldness against her thighs a contrast to Spencer's warm hands.

Y/n kept her legs open so he could stand between them, gripping his hips with her inner thighs to keep him close to her. He was more hesitant with his hands than usual, which gave her the rare opportunity to tease him first.

Her hands ran down his chest, all the way down the light blue dress shirt he wore until her fingertips trailed over the growing bulge in his pants.

Spencer lightly moaned against her lips, biting down on her bottom lip and tugging it away from her face. His lips were slotting against hers again, but that time, he kissed her deeper, tongue slipping into her mouth and tangling with hers.

A content sigh sounded from her lips into his open mouth when his hands gripped her hips tighter, fingertips no doubt bruising her skin. There was a burning need in her to touch his skin and she reached out for the collar of his shirt to pull him closer before getting to work on the buttons.

There were too many and she pulled at them hard, earning a lighthearted chuckle from him at her eagerness. "Let me." He offered gently, wrapping one hand around both of hers and using his other to undo the buttons.

She did the same thing, pulling her t-shirt off while Spencer took off his shirt. Why he always wore dress shirts, she didn’t know, but over the years he’d started filling them better. Her hands were on the skin of his chest as soon as she could, pushing the shirt onto the floor. It would be inconvenient for him to find later when he left, but she couldn’t care less.

That time their lips attached, Spencer seemed more urgent. His hands pulled her hips closer and he all but dragged her off the bench. Y/n followed his lead, running her hands up and down his chest like she’d missed doing so much. His fingertips were always cold but his heart was always warm.

He knew each inch of that house and he knew where he was going as he walked backward, eyes closed and lips on hers. It wasn’t until the stairs and her hands fidgeting with his belt that his coordination dropped off. The grace he had and the pressure of his lips against hers were all gone when he stepped back and tripped up the stairs.

She waited for a beat to make sure he wasn’t actually hurt, and then they were giggling like they used to when they were in love. Hearing him laugh was one of her favorite things, something she’d been starved of for far too long that she couldn’t deny how good it felt to hear. She didn’t have the chance to ask if he was okay before he was doing the safer thing, reaching out to take her hand and pull her upstairs.

It felt weird to be back in their bedroom together, and Y/n desperately tried to ignore the voice in her head telling her this was a bad idea. It was going to hurt later, but it was worth it, if not for anything else than just to feel close to him again.

It didn’t feel anything but right when he walked her over to the bed, those gorgeous big palms holding her waist while his thumbs touched the bottom of her bra. He looked at her for what felt like years, more focused on remembering every detail of her face than he was on her body. The moment that should have been more uncomfortable lasted until she was backed up against the base of the bed when he kissed her. The feeling of his hands roaming her skin was going to be something she missed, she realized as they traded saliva and Spencer reached around to unclasp her bra.

His lips broke away from hers and trailed down her neck. “Spence.” She lightly moaned when his teeth dug into her skin, marking her like she was his. Arching her back to give him more access to her boobs, she tangled her fingers through his hair and squeaked out noises of pleasure into his ear. It was a move that apparently hadn’t stopped working because he rolled his hips rhythmically against hers.

It was unspoken that they didn’t have a lot of time. Derek wasn’t going to believe it took him three orgasms worth of time to drive a few miles. Those big firm hands pushed her back onto the bed and Spencer's kisses reached lower as he stood between her thighs. As usual, he paid particular attention to the faded scar on her abdomen from Florence which she hated until he convinced her it was something to treasure.

He was hesitant with the button of her pants but the desire in her was too strong to wait around for him to rethink his decision and come to the same conclusion. She sat up slightly against the comforter and gently palmed his bulge, waiting until the friction was nearly overwhelming to actually unbutton and unzip them.

Spencer followed suit, pulling her pants off with a little help from her lifting her hips up. His intrigue with her wet core peaked as he ran his finger over the damp spot on her panties. He slipped his thumb under the seam, teasingly running it through her folds and watching the expression on her face change. Determined to not let him have the upper hand, Y/n used her own hand to play with him. He caved first, as expected, stepping out of his boxers and she followed suit, taking off her panties and shuffling down so her legs were hanging over the edge of the bed. And then there were absolutely no barriers between them.

With his hardened, red cock in his hand, Spencer guided himself through her wet folds, spreading his precum against her. Y/n watched, still sitting up and a little mesmerized. In one smooth motion, he pressed his lips against hers so forcefully that she fell back onto the comforter while gliding inside of her. He could feel her breath shortening as he pushed into her.

“Fuck.” She mumbled against his lips. It was total confirmation that she’d never be able to feel the same again, no one else would perfectly fill her up or make her skin so hot. Even thinking about being with someone else made her uncomfortable.

“I know.” He smirked, the heat of his voice against her skin dizzying. When he pulled back to thrust in again, he did so tenderly, not at all the rough hate fuck she expected to get from him. It was nice, though, and it oddly felt like they were back in sync again. Maybe the only thing they could do together anymore was passionate sex.

His lips stayed close to hers, not directly on hers but close enough that he could kiss her. It meant she could let out breathly sighs each time he pulled out of her and moaned when he slammed back into her.

Spencer avoided telling her how beautiful she was, he just relished in the time they had left together.

Her nails trailed up and down his back as he continued to fuck in and out of her slowly. It was so intimate for two people who had stopped showing their love for each other. All those soft touches, kisses, and pleasureful moans felt like something different and she felt like she was back in the old days. Back when they’d go to the movies just to make out, those times hand holding under the table at Quantico, and when saying goodbye took hours because of the endless kisses. When they couldn’t stand not touching each other.

“Spencer, faster, please.” She begged, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull him closer.

He threaded his fingers through hers above her head while he leaned down to kiss her neck and fulfilled her request. The smell of his shampoo and cologne and the scotch sent her senses into a Spencer overdrive.

“Getting close?” He asked although he knew the answer. The amount of time he’d dedicated to getting to know her body meant he knew that when she started rolling her hips against his and got all quiet, she was about to cum.

“Mhm.” She answered, quiet for another second before a spew of his name and curse words left her lips. Spencer loved the sounds she made almost as much as he loved how she looked as she orgasmed. “Holy fuck.” She let out again as she came hard around his cock, all her muscles contracting before she fell back against the bed.

Spencer fucked her through it before falling apart on top of her with a moan of her name. Then he was kissing her again softly before rolling onto the bed next to her. The post-orgasm sensation muted all those annoying thoughts in her head, and his beauty wasn’t lost on her.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asked, turning on his side to look at her with the particular shade of brown she loved more than any other.

No.

Despite how close they’d just been, this felt too close for her now. And despite how bare they were, she’d never felt more exposed.

“Yes.” She finally answered. It was easier to lie than to ask whether he was talking about the sex or her physical state or her mental state.

With a definitive nod, he got up off the bed. That’s when it felt different, when it was real that he was about to walk out and they weren’t going to cuddle and talk all night like she missed so much.

His eyes lingered on her while he put his boxers and pants back on. “Can I ask you a favor?”

No.

Y/n picked at her nails, trying to act like she wasn’t completely focused on his body. “Sure.”

“Don’t do anything irrational.” He requested before his voice got much quieter and she would have missed his next statement had there been any other noise in the house. “We can fix this.”

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palmofafreezinghand · 5 months

Text

date night

Esme and Carlisle catch up before a date night with Carlisle's new coworkers. on ao3 here.

2023.

That evening Esme Cullen looked every bit like the twenty-six-year-old she physically was, despite feeling older than she ever had in her one hundred and twenty-eight years of life.

Her ‘youngest daughter’ and granddaughter had helped pick and style her outfit that evening, which felt like a ridiculous Halloween costume of a “twenty-something.” The dress, floral printed linen, fell to the middle of her calf, and a silt in the skirt reaching the middle of her thigh was held up by spaghetti straps that seemed architecturally unsound. Alice had sent it through the mail months prior with a note that only said ‘Trust me.’ It was from a brand that started with R, Resolution, Renovation, Restoration, Reformation, or something like that. The dress showed more skin than the negligee Esme had worn on her wedding night. Granted, that garment had long sleeves, and a high neck, and went to her ankles, but the point still stood.

Alice had assured her the dress would not get her stoned in the town square and was indeed very in fashion and the “perfect” choice for that evening’s date. One of her husband’s many current occupations was a first-year residency at a large teaching hospital. He was pretending to be in his mid-twenties, barely out of medical school, and newly-ish married. His coworkers had formed a unique sense of camaraderie and after a lot of persuasion had convinced Carlisle, who in turn convinced Esme, to join them and their partners for drinks and dinner.

It was a stark contrast from Esme’s own career — a phrase which still felt surreal to use — where she was pretending to be in her late thirties with the help of a remote workplace, clever makeup and fashion choices, and extremely well-forged government documents. It was a relief to not have to pretend to be an early professional for the rest of her eternity, unlike her husband, but it had its downsides. When you tell a lie enough, “thirty-nine, no kids, my husband doesn’t mind how much I work,” it becomes true in a way.

Going back to the truth, twenty-six deliriously in love with a man who cared very much that she worked so frequently, felt like entering a world she didn’t belong in. It was a disconnect she had become well acquainted with over the years, whether her role was housewife, devoted adoptive mother, or college student to the public she was always something different to those she lived with. A wife who expected equal domestic labor, a twenty-six-year-old woman whose house a bunch of teenagers lived in, or a grandmother. It was a necessary part of how they lived, molding into the role humans expected of them no matter how uncomfortable the fit.

This role in particular — the woman she was forever frozen as — was more disquieting than most. The dress did not help. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window as she walked and paused mid-step after determining the real estate office was closed for the day. She had let her hair dry naturally in the waves she rarely let see the light of day. Her makeup was done with the instruction of Alice and Ness over a video call. They had spent ten minutes instructing her how to comb her brows and where to place her rogue because apparently applying blush where a blush would naturally occur was no longer in fashion.

Alice had called the second she saw Esme debate bringing a jacket for modesty’s sake, informing her under no circumstance was Esme allowed to ruin her handiwork. Ness had chimed in from across the room, “Just because you’re a grandmother doesn’t mean you have to dress like one.” The three stayed on the video chat for forty minutes, falling into a familiar warm rhythm despite being on separate continents. The entire family had not all been in the same place at the same time for more than four years. She was able to ignore this fact most days with the aid of modern technology but seeing their smiles and watching them laugh had the homesickness making itself known. Esme had only made an excuse to hang up the call when Ness attempted to explain the definition of the word ‘gagged.’

Her world, which was supposed to be unchanging until the end of time, had morphed into something unrecognizable over the last century. The downtown street she was walking along, for example, was unidentifiable as the small town she had vacationed in seventy years prior. It was a three-hour drive from their current home, but only twenty minutes from one of the hospitals Carlisle worked at. The streets were still fairly empty, due to the group meeting for dinner on a weekday afternoon. It was an ideal time for the hospital staff’s schedule, and those with vampiric-based concerns about sun, but apparently, it was not a popular time for dinner for most people. The setting sun and overcast meant she was able to walk down the sidewalk freely, without worrying about blinding a passerby and subsequently being murdered by a group of cape-wearing Italians or the overwhelming cacophony of thousands of beating bloody hearts.

That afternoon the heartbeats were a hum she could ignore, like the buzzing of a gnat. There were probably under a hundred people on that block, tucked away in businesses and apartments or driving by in their cars. She could ignore them.

A man let out a wolf whistle behind her, punctuated by the slam of a car door. She could murder even the strongest man with minimal effort, yet, there she was gripping her purse and quickening her step, the intrinsic fear present no matter how minor the danger.

Thirty seconds later a large hand splayed against her lower back. She flinched ever so slightly at the contact before she recognized the weight of the hand, the cold of the gold wedding band, and the smell of the Sandalwood body wash she had purchased for him on a whim the month prior. Her fingers loosened around her purse strap as she glanced up at her husband.

“Hello, love,” Carlisle said, keeping the hand on her back as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

She gave him a once over. He had dressed just as ‘young’ as she had, only for him it didn’t look like a costume. He was wearing a light blue button-up, the top two buttons undone to reveal his neck but not his undershirt. His hair was styled looser than usual, a stray lock lying on his forehead, as usual. For the past few months, he had experimented with a pair of unnecessary glasses, with a modern take on Oxford frames. The outfit was quite becoming and he knew it.

“I hope,” she said, taking a step to the right so they were out of the line of nonexistent foot traffic, he, of course, followed right alongside her to stand in front of her, “I am the only woman you whistle at like that.”

“I assumed you knew it was me,” he said, brow furrowed as it always did when she flinched as she had, “my apologies.”

“I figured it out quick enough,” she said, waving away his unnecessary apology.

He nodded but was clearly unappeased by the way he was pressing his lips together, resembling a thin line.

She poked at the center of his chest, “Are you going to greet your wife properly or just holler at me on the street?”

“Oh,” he grinned, placing his hand on its former spot on her back to pull her closer and give her the requested kiss hello.

After far too few seconds she reluctantly broke the peck, which both were attempting to escalate. “We’re in public,” she muttered inches away from his lips, her arm had somehow found its way around his neck.

“This may be hard to believe, but a man can kiss his wife in public these days,” Carlisle smiled, leaning in for another kiss, which was met with his wife’s cheek as she turned her head.

“It’s never just a kiss with you,” she laughed, untangling her arm from his shoulders.

He sighed but did not attempt to refute her statement, knowing he could not win that argument. One public indecency warning had been enough of a deterrent for both of them. The fact it had been written by their son’s father-in-law had only served as a further incentive against public displays of affection.

“I’ve missed you,” he smiled, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“I missed you.”

It had been almost two weeks since they had seen each other last. Carlisle was working himself to the bone, holding positions at two separate hospitals and working part-time at a charity clinic. To her credit, Esme was also working herself to the bone, taking full advantage of the boom in the work-from-home movement consulting for half a dozen firms, and serving countless nonprofits. When the two were finally able to carve out time for each other they were forced to take advantage, knowing it could be weeks until they would see each other again.

Miraculously this evening had worked out for both of their schedules. They each had eight hours free of any obligations, they would spend two or three hours socializing and still have five to themselves. They had managed to plan to arrive at the restaurant separately, fifteen minutes before everyone else had scheduled to arrive.

“Did I compliment the dress yet?” Carlisle asked quietly, his fingers mindlessly playing with the back buttons.

“You did not,” Esme smiled.

“It’s divine,” he said, dropping the hand on her back to take her hand as she began to lead them down the block. His gaze never left the dress. “Just incredible.”

“It was a gift from Alice.”

Carlisle fetched his phone out of his pocket, “Siri, remind me to send Alice a thank you gift.”

“Done,” the robotic voice of his phone responded as he slipped the device back into his pocket.

Esme laughed, leaning into his side. “You don’t look too bad either.”

“You like me in blue.”

Esme grinned. They walked for a minute, slower than the average human before she spoke. “You don’t think the dress is too revealing?”

He glanced down at her, looking over the dress again as if he had not been leering a minute before. “Not at all. But have I ever objected to you wearing less clothes?”

Her own laugh caught her off guard, as the juxtaposition of her seemingly innocent son of a preacher husband speaking freely always did.

“Do you not like it?” Carlisle asked sincerely.

She shrugged. “It’s pretty, but it’s a little more daring than I’m used to.”

“If you’d like to take it off I’d be more than willing to assist,” he winked. The frequency with which he did this gesture indicated he must have thought it charming, even though it had never worked on his wife. Alright, it did not work on her often.

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, smacking his arm lightly.

Despite her impressive charade of levity, he dropped the flirtation. “If you are uncomfortable, I have a sweater in my car. I’m parked right there,” he said, motioning behind him.

“I would appreciate that,” she said, and they turned to head back the way they had just walked. “How was work?” She asked as they walked.

“Less frustrating than the last time I saw you.”

“Is Dr. Barnes still making calls you disagree with?”

“Frequently,” he sighed, digging his keys out of his car, “but none of his choices cost a life this week.”

“Small victories?” She joked.

“I have always been envious of your ability to find the positive in any situation,” he said popping the trunk.

“What can I say? It’s a gift that has gotten me nearly killed on more than one occasion.”

He laughed politely, but his eye twitch gave away his disturbance at the reference to her ‘near death’ experiences he hated to remember. She stood on the sidewalk, peering into his trunk as he dug.

“Sandy was nice enough to drop off the fabric you ordered,” he said, moving a large pink plastic shopping bag. One of the hospitals he worked at was minutes away from a quilt shop. Rather than pay for shipping or drive hours from home Carlisle graciously agreed to pick up her orders on his way home. “She threw in a couple of charm packs and jelly rolls.”

“How well are you tipping her?” Esme scoffed. He only smiled in return.

Along with the fabric were three changes of scrubs tucked in a plastic crate, his usual medical bag, and an open duffel bag he had been living out of for three years. He picked a half dozen books out of the bag. She rolled her eyes when he took out a framed photo of her. Finally, he found what he was looking for, he passed her the forest green cardigan.

“This is mine,” she said. He nodded, eyebrows raised in question. “Why do you keep my sweater with you?”

He looked down at his feet, a lopsided smile. “I miss you, occasionally.”

“Is that my shampoo?” She asked, looking in the duffel bag.

“I miss you, frequently,” he grinned.

It was shocking, and very charming, even after a century, how much he seemed to fancy her. “Perhaps, if you didn’t work the jobs of six people you would see me more often.”

“Remind me how many W-2s will you have this year?” He asked, locking the car.

“This isn’t about me,” she said, slipping on the cardigan. “Does this ruin the look?” She asked as he joined her on the sidewalk.

“I think that would be impossible,” he said, taking her hand again. “Do you want to sit for a few minutes?” He asked, motioning to a bench down the block. She nodded and they began to walk.

“How is your work?” Carlisle asked.

“Wonderful, I got assigned to lead on the mining town project.”

“Congratulations! That’s the mining town soon-to-be strip mall right?”

“That’s not funny,” she said, squeezing his hand in jest. “I also got an offer for an on-site project in Delaware.”

“Oh?” Carlisle asked, making a poor attempt at hiding his disdain for on-site projects. He was barely tolerating her current work schedule and he got her undivided attention once a fortnight, six months apart with hundreds of miles dividing them would be uncomfortable, to say the least.

“I did not accept,” she said.

“If you wanted to—”

“I don’t,” Esme reassured him, taking a seat on the bench. He took the seat next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. Her hand rested on his knee, her head on his shoulder. “I spoke to Alice and Ness today.”

“How are they?”

“They seem well. Alice is Alice. Ness said she would be calling you soon about something at work I didn’t understand.”

“I look forward to it.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, watching people across the street. An elderly couple were walking down the street bickering. A man in his forties was talking on the phone, a small dog dragging him along the sidewalk. A young couple turned the corner, with three children in tow. A little boy, four or five, with bright red hair was being terrorized by his little sister, a blonde who could not have been older than three. The parents had their hands full with an infant who was screeching like an owl.

Esme didn’t speak until the family walked into one of the shops. “I miss them,” she said.

“As do I. It’s been too long.”

“Have you earned any paid time off yet?”

“A few days, but I will have two weeks next year. Perhaps we could invite them out for the holidays?”

“I don’t want to trouble them,” Esme said, she was interrupted by the ping of her and Carlisle’s cellphones.

Carlisle checked his, laughed to himself, and angled the screen so she could see.

A text from Edward, ‘We’ll all be there.’

A follow-up text from Alice, ‘Only if Esme takes off the cardigan.’

Emmett’s text came in as she was looking at the screen, ‘Carlisle wants to take off more than the cardigan.’

“What did we ever do without a psychic?” Esme laughed as Carlisle typed out a response and then stowed his phone in his pocket.

“She does prove helpful in some instances.”

“Ridiciolusly irritating in others.”

“Yes, I remember the incident of ’57 as if it were yesterday,” Carlisle chuckled.

“Is there anything I should know about your coworkers?” Esme asked.

“There’s no one I’ll tell you to stay away from.”

“That’s a first.”

“I know. I think you’ll enjoy Madison, she works in pediatrics, and her partner the most.”

“I’m looking forward to finally putting faces to all of the names.”

“They’re all quite eager to meet you. More than one of them has joked you must be fictional.”

“Technically I am,” she laughed lightly, but it sounded sad even to her.

“Not the Esme I talk about.”

She ignored the compliment, sitting up and glancing at her watch. “Should we start walking?” She angled her wrist for him to see.

He shook his head, “They are all habitually late, I think we have time.”

They returned to people watching. Her head fell on his shoulder again, and his hand on her shoulder started to play with her hair. The silence was comfortable, like an old armchair next to a crackling fire. It was often that way for them. A large truck passed with all four windows down, Shania Twain’s “Any Man of Mine,” playing so loud it shook the car’s frame. The couple simultaneously blew air out of their nose, glancing at each other with a smile.

“I can’t say that was the song I expected,” Esme said.

“Me either,” Carlisle agreed.

They fell quiet again, her hand on his knee was mindlessly drawing shapes.

“I have been thinking of something,” he said, breaking the silence.

“I’m shocked,” she smiled, squeezing his knee.

“Would you be opposed if this was the last time I worked this schedule?”

“Are you truly asking me if I would be displeased by you working less?”

“I wanted to make sure before any decisions were made. I have been thinking we give this all a few good years but the next time we move could be to somewhere a little quieter. A small town, with internet, of course, so you can still do your work, but where I won’t need to work seventy-twos.”

“Carlisle, don’t feel as if you have to slow down on my account.” Perhaps she had given him too hard of a time about his schedule. She was in no position to judge. She was his wife, her role was to support him —

“I love you but it’s solely on my account. When this was necessary it was fulfilling but now… I fear I’m too old to never slow down.”

“I know what you mean.”

“If you’re old what am I?”

“No one is debating the fact that you’re old.”

“So you would not object to moving somewhere quieter in a few years? Having me around the house more?”

“Have you invited Edward yet?”

“Am I that transparent?” Carlisle laughed.

“I like to think I simply know you well.”

“Bella has been eyeing a Literature program at a university in Canada. I know you have to stay in the States but there are quite a few border towns. It would certainly be less of a distance than now.”

“I presume the rest of them would stay overseas.”

“I don’t know. Have you spoken to Rosalie recently?” Carlisle asked.

“No,” Esme muttered. It was a sore subject. “She’s invited me on a few trips I have had to decline, we have not spoken much since the last one I missed.”

“You haven’t reached out?”

“I’ve learned if she is cross it’s better to let her simmer.”

“That may be, but I don’t think she’s angry. Hurt, maybe, but I think she’s mainly trying to respect your space. She’s proud you’re working.”

“So you have clearly spoken to her.”

“She calls almost every Tuesday.”

“Really?” Esme asked. Rosalie and Carlisle had never been the best of friends, for many years they got along purely for Esme’s benefit.

“She calls to ask about you. I won’t betray her trust but I think she’s trying to give you the same grace you gave her when she first moved out on her own. I respect this is your relationship, but I think you should give her a call. Maybe invite her out here, before the holidays.”

“You don’t think she’s angry at me?”

“If she is she will get over it quickly,” Carlisle shrugged.

“I miss when life was simple,” Esme said, running her free hand through her hair.

“Things with Rosalie were never simple,” Carlisle laughed.

“I meant the whole world, I feel like a grandmother trying to figure this all out.”

“You are a grandmother.”

“Do you never feel as if the whole world is changing around you and you can’t keep up?”

He scoffed. “No, I always feel completely up to date with the times. Pray tell, are women allowed the vote yet?”

“I was asking a sincere question, Carlisle.”

He squeezed her upper arm in apology. “Of course I do, Es. Frankly, I think it would be concerning if I did not.”

“How do you keep up with it all?”

“Many would say I don’t. In fact, if I recall correctly you would be the one leading that thought process.”

“Carlisle.”

“First off, I think you aren’t giving yourself enough credit. You’re quite progressive for a hundred and twenty-eight, even if our granddaughter doesn’t agree. Second, I think what helps the most are the moments I do feel young.”

“For instance?”

“When I see you, for one. When you wear your hair like this. When I look at you in this dress.” He had leaned closer while delivering this line, the hand not around her shoulders rested above her knee, slowly trailing to mid-thigh.

“Is that right, Doctor Cullen?” Esme asked, recognizing his intent and matching the dare.

It was unclear who initiated the kiss, she thought it was him, but all she knew was she certainly did not feel old and the world felt quite simple.

“Get it, Cullen!” A deep voice shouted from across the street after what she would consider an embarrassing amount of time in retrospect.

Carlisle broke the affection, turning to the man, the two were positioned in a way she was blocked from what she assumed was Carlisle’s coworker’s view. He untangled his arm from around her shoulders and waved at the man across the street.

“Hello, Jaxson, with an X.”

“You don’t have to say with an X every time,” the man, apparently Jaxson, bellowed across the street.

“I assure you I do,” Carlisle chuckled.

"Hi, Mrs. Cullen," Jaxson yelled, she could hear the smile in his voice.

She waved over her husband's shoulder, refusing to show her face.

“We’ll be over in just a moment," Carlisle said.

The man did not respond verbally, but Carlisle’s light-hearted scoff made her think there must have been a gesture. Esme waited until the heavy footsteps and boisterous laughter faded paired with the sound of the restaurant door closing to look at her husband finally.

"Do I want to know what that gesture was?"

"Proof that, while the entire world changes around us men stay exactly the same," Carlisle chuckled lightly.

“That was absolutely mortifying,” she groaned, forehead falling on his chest.

“I have caught him in the on-call room in compromising situations on more than one occasion. Trust me, he does not find this mortifying. In fact, he might think higher of me because of this.”

“Just like in Grey’s Anatomy.”

“That television program is completely fictional,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and then standing. He held his hand out to help her up.

“You love that show and you know it,” she smiled.

As they began to walk he draped his arm around her back, her hand slid into his back pocket.

“To answer your question, this,” he said, hitting the crosswalk signal. She cocked a brow in question. “This,” he motioned with his head to the two of them, “that,” he glanced back at the bench with a lopsided grin, “are some of the things that make it feel like it’s not pretending and is what makes the pretending worth it. I can have an evening like this when I was fated for an eternity of solitude and misery, makes it worth it.”

#esme cullen #carlisle cullen #my stories #for those who like little Easter eggs “better than the last time I saw you” is in reference to a moment of respite #if I'm allowed to say this is one of my favorites of mine

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