#I gave him lip piercings too (which he wouldn't wear until later in the relationship)

[scoliosisgoblin]

Peter redesign but you can't see it cause of the framing

#I gave him lip piercings too (which he wouldn't wear until later in the relationship) #he'd also start painting his nails black like Jay #I hc Peter used to have a tongue piercing when he went through his alt phase #(hence all the piercings and stuff) #he'd also probably get a heart tattoo whenever Jay goes to get his tattoos touched up #aww they could have matching tattoos #my art #I'll post their designs later #maybe a before and after dating each other #art #void #Jay #Peter #yb game #peter yb #yb fanart #your boyfriend game #your boyfriend fanart #your boyfriend peter #redraw #peter dunbar #jacob skelton

[fluffglass]

Imagines : dating Logan Lee - 1

Category : fluff, slight smut, sweet as a mouthful of sugar cuteness.

Let's start from the beginning.

I think he is a tsundere to the core of his heart. Rude, stubborn (does not believe anything before he sees it himself) , honest, sweetest darling to the ones he love , annoying brat to others, and if he behaves nicely to someone for no reason means he is definitely faking it.

He is the most calmest person you could ever meet whose silence and piercing eyes will be a heaven for you but at the same time it could be the reason why he is feared by his business partners. He loves and admires you for your strong personality. He can't​ stand any wrongdoing against children which makes you admire him a lot and think about how great of a dad he would be. His smart personality and sharp words are so damn attractive and on point that you end up praising him everytime you two meet resulting him into becoming a melted chocolate bar. A total complete boyfriend package.

He has a really reeaally great wardrobe you wanna steal from, nice hair, colourful sunglasses, sexy suits, expensive watches, multiple rings which makes his hands look extremely hot, matching shoes to complement his look. Rich guy has everything he can offer to you. Him being a biker just gives you extra reasons to drool over him more.

All he wants is your happiness. He does not care about rumours or anything, he loves you to that point where you could just say the word and he would be ready to be with you anytime, anywhere.

You didn't require to label your relationship as the love was evident with no confusions. Logan would first start to hug you, saying that he missed you a lot by wrapping you in his arms so tightly you would not be able to move, with him tilting his head to your left shoulder, his right hand lightly on the back of your head and left hand on your waist reminding you of a blanket covering and protecting you on a cold night. At first it surprised you, but later this became his habit everytime you meet that you were now obsessed with them and pretty much felt empty the moment he left you.

He literally gives the best hugs in whole world.

These hugs were becoming your addiction and Logan was becoming your necessity. He was feeling the same but rather than saying he showed his love through his actions. But then he would want to clear things up and admit all the feelings that he had for you so you won't ever feel confused about his intentions regarding you. Honesty is one of a sexy trait you had unknowingly adapted being with him.

The confession day was quite hysterical as you both were getting ready to tell each other your feelings but didn't know what the other had planned. You met at a quiet garden, he brought flowers, couple rings, wore peach coloured shirt you wanted to throw yourself into, then he told his feelings and you replied him that you felt the same which ended with you two laughing together.

Then he asked if he could kiss you, you said yes giggling when he kept his left hand on your cheeks to slowly pull himself closer to your lips and his right hand on your back to hold you. You put your hands around his neck to pull him closer to you. You could not remember when his lips touched yours but you could feel his soft and slow kisses first on your upper lip then your lower lip slowly which made you reciprocate the kiss with need and he smiled at that. You kept exploring his hair while keeping your other hand on his neck, his hair was so silky, smooth you wanted to spoil this so badly. He liked this sensation which your fingers gave his head. Both of your chest touching each other so closely you could feel his heartbeat and he could feel yours that the clothes you wore didn't feel existent at that point. You wouldn't stop kissing if air wasn't something you required.

Slowly you both let go of each other and have the most sweetest smiles even while huffing for air standing. Then you sit on a bench holding hands, your head on his shoulder his head on top of your head and talk about the most random things you could talk about.

Logan seems like a guy who would prefer going on his motorbike in full speed to unknown places or would like to be in his room with you all day cuddling or making out with you while having conversations. He wouldn't want any crowd or other people to interrupt his time with you. He will capture a lot of pictures, a huge number to be exact with you to look at later on.

He will wear coordinated clothes with you and won't shy away to tell anyone about you. Back hugs would become an everyday chore. Back hugs when you are cooking, cheek kisses for when he wants to distract you, lip kisses for when he wants you to just focus on him. He will be calm, sweet and focused with you that you would sometimes want him to be a little careless and would pull him to the couch to make out. He would never be able to fight with you he loves you too much to even think about it, he would wait patiently for you to say if anything made you uncomfortable​, he would never pressure you or acted extremely needy which made you try new things with him.

You would try all kinds of street food together. Talking through eyes when words seem unnecessary. Power couple all the way. In a room filled with various people all he would ever look at will be you with those dreamy eyes which are busy undressing you and telling all the love he feels towards you. He could never get enough of you. Maybe he is drinking that expensive wine amongst all his business partners with a fake smile but if he wanted he would hold you from your waist drinking that wine from your lips.

You would love his black leather jackets while going for a motorbike ride, you would giggle, click pictures, talk your mind, makeout. He was making you fearless whereas you were making him experience new things. Whenever you would hug him you would think about how he had to go through the rigorous hardships but then you smile thinking how strong he made himself to be where he was right now.

Every date is an adventure. Every single on of them. He is a perfectionist in planning things. But you wanted to surprise him from time to time. With that great sense of fashion, you wanted to catch him off guard. You wanted to play games with him but looking at his sweet puppy eyes made you just grab his face on either sides with both hands and smooch him which left him thinking what just happened. Now he's holding you because he wants more and you don't have other plans.

He taught you riding his motorbike​ but mostly prefers you sitting behind him holding him tightly as he loves your arms around him, being so close to you with your head on his shoulder makes him stronger and feel cozy.

Logan isn't the type to fight or create misunderstandings with you but if something happens because of him he will run to your house, teary eyed and just by looking at his eyes you would start crying as well, hugging him till he stops and not leaving until you stop crying. You would do the same if it happens. You would only have small arguments in the initial days but after a time you actually would not be able to fight even if you wanted to purposely. You fitted each other like perfect pieces of jigsaw and you were not going to separate anytime soon.

The End.

Hope you liked it, and suggestions are always welcome. ❤️

#logan lee #logan lee imagines #park eun seok #park eun seok imagines #penthouse #kdrama

[myfearless-love]

The Wildest Place You Run (3/?) - Pretty Scary Sometimes

If anyone missed Killian in the previous chapters (because who wouldn't miss him, let's be honest) then I have good news: we are getting more Killian now that most of the flashbacks are done! I enjoyed writing this chapter as we dive deeper into the character's backstories and present happenings! I hope you like it too! Let me know :)

Also, check out the amazing and beautiful art that @thejollyroger-writer made for chapter 3 & 4!! I love how she always captures the essence of the chapters!

Summary:

Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation...

Chapter: 3/? - Pretty Scary Sometimes

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Rating: M

Relationships: Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Read on: FF.net or AO3

Words: ~3k

Previous parts:

Ch 1 II Ch 2

TW for this chapter: Implied miscarriage

.

"Emma! Lock the door behind us! We probably won't be back before morning…"

David's voice snapped her back out of her memories and back into the present, and she stared up at her brother with misty eyes. "What?"

"Lock the door behind us," he repeated, shaking his head slightly in disapproval, and hurried out of the kitchen.

Somewhat dazed, she started walking towards the team of Hunters, but by the time she reached the living room, they were all gone. All except Killian, who was still fumbling with his gun holsters.

Her memories still held her a little captive, she stared wearily at the front door. It had been more than half a year, but she would never forget that night or that horrible half an hour she spent in the morgue…

"It can't be him! It's probably a mistake, Neal certainly isn't…" she shook her head and sobbed hysterically.

If David hadn't been holding her, she would have simply fallen awkwardly to the shiny floor.

"Emma! It pains me too, but if he were alive, he would have come back long ago…"

"No! He's not…" she repeated tirelessly, like a broken record. She couldn't comprehend that she had lost Neal along with the little one…

"Are you sure?" The coroner stared doubtfully at Emma, and there was also a hint of pity and contempt in his gaze.

Of course. To him, he was just a corpse, but to her…

"She won't calm down until then…" David sighed somewhat bitterly and stared at the white-covered body in front of them.

"All right," the coroner shrugged.

He was a short, broad, and severely balding man, with gray hair and several days of white stubble. He reached for the edge of the sheet with his stubby fingers, but before he could pull the fabric aside, a brutally burned hand slid off the autopsy table.

The breath caught in her throat, and she suddenly forgot how to breathe. They were long, thin fingers, just like Neal's. The skin was burned almost black, cartilage showing on the fingers.

"Maybe it was a bad idea..." David whispered, pulling her head to his chest and trying to shield her vision. He tried to soothe her, even though she was no longer sobbing anymore. Her eyes widened in horror, and she gasped for air.

"I think so, too. She's quite neurotic," the doctor grunted.

"Just keep your mouth shut! We didn't ask for your opinion," David snorted.

"Sorry," he muttered in a mocking tone and sauntered off.

He grabbed something from the table and handed Robin a plastic bag containing a sooty, burnt box. "We found this a few feet from the body. Does it look familiar?" The doctor scanned the faces of the Hunters impassively.

"Oh my God…"

"You've got to be kidding me…"

"Shit…"

Emma didn't understand their outburst, she just saw the horror and shock on their faces.

"What's that?" Mary Margaret glanced at the tiny box with watery eyes.

The others, on the other hand, didn't seem to have heard the question at all, staring uncertainly at each other and the box.

"Can we have this?" inquired Robin.

"Of course. We don't need it," replied the doctor.

"How generous," Leo said.

"David, what do you think? Should we give it to her?" Robin stared at her uncertainly.

"What's in it?" Emma asked in a husky voice. "Is it something of Neal's?"

"No. It's yours," Ruby replied gently.

"No, it's not mine," she shook her head. It wasn't at all familiar to her.

"But what's inside is yours," David replied, nodding to Robin, who opened the plastic bag and carefully pulled the box out. "Emma… you probably would've figured it out or guessed, it's better to just rip the band-aid now," he whispered, stroking her hair.

Emma raised her head suspiciously. "What's going on?"

"I'm sure Neal would have been happy to see you wearing it…" he added carefully. "He was going to ask you to marry him that night…"

Robin opened the small box. Inside, her engagement ring remained perfectly intact…

She opened her eyes slowly and raised her hand in front of her face. The ring still glittered on her finger. It was made of white gold, and the most beautiful amber she had ever seen shone upon it. It was terribly painful to realize what a wonderful night it could have been, and instead, it ended with the death of her boyfriend and unborn baby. They could have been a family.

But she wore it, despite the pain it caused when she looked at it. She could still feel him a little close to her. It hurt, but not so much that she couldn't bear it.

"Swan, are you all right?" Killian was already standing on the doorstep, eyeing her anxiously.

"I'm fine," she nodded, but her tone was the slightest bit sharper than she'd intended.

"Apologies." He turned away, but she gently grasped his arm.

"I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you or anything. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"It's alright, love." His lips twisted into a faint, understanding smile.

His good manners were sometimes in stark contrast to his appearance. His dark, almost black hair, disheveled as always, brushed against his forehead now, in need of a haircut. The thick stubble on his face was peppered here and there with a hint of ginger if the light fell on him at the right angle. His right ear was pierced and adorned with a solid black stone earring. There was no room for new tattoos on his left arm, various drawings of a compass, skull and crossbones, symbols, and plants were inked into his skin, likely to hide the age-old scar that ran from his wrist to his bicep. He also accentuated his eyes with black eyeliner, making his arctic blue eyes stand out as prominently as the North Star in the dark sky.

He wore his signature black outfit - jeans, a shirt that was always missing a few buttons at the top to reveal a generous patch of dark hair, leather jacket, and combat boots.

All in all, he looked like a textbook bad boy, which was why Emma preferred to keep her distance from him.

"You better get going," she remarked as the front door closed behind the others.

"They won't leave without me, anyway. Who would look out for them?" he let out a laugh, attaching a pistol holster to his hip. "Take care, ladies," he nodded to her from the other side of the doorstep, then disappeared into the night after the others.

Emma retreated into the apartment and carefully locked the door, padlocking it as a precaution. No one could say she hadn't heeded their warning.

"Are they gone?" Mary Margaret sank down on the couch.

"Yeah," Emma nodded and plopped down next to her friend.

She closed her eyes, leaned against the headrest, and stared up at the ceiling.

"I wonder what they're trying to accomplish with all this," Mary Margaret shook her head. "Rebellions everywhere, in almost every country. They can't defeat us, so what do they want?"

"I don't care what they want. All the damn beasts need to be wiped out," Emma hissed.

Ever since that night, she hated those monsters even more, and honestly, who could blame her?

Mary Margaret only hummed and nodded, and for a long time, neither of them said a word.

After a few minutes, her friend broke the silence: "Don't you miss it? Our old life?"

"What do you mean?" Emma glanced at her.

"When we went to college and this craziness hadn't started yet," Mary Margaret replied, and Emma raised one of her eyebrows.

"I don't miss it. If there's anything I miss, it's...him. But nothing else."

"Maybe you should take the ring off. It always reminds you of him. It's been over seven months. I know you don't want to hear this, but sooner or later, you're going to have to move on. There's life after Neal."

If it wasn't Mary Margaret sitting in front of her, telling her that, she probably would have slapped her or, at the very least, made her leave. But Mary Margaret was different. Emma knew she wanted the best for her, and she had much better insight into her situation than she did.

"I can't," Emma shook her head. "It would be like...I don't know. It would be like I was denying him or something."

"No," Mary Margaret objected vehemently. "It wouldn't be like that. To be honest, I didn't agree with the others when they gave you that damn ring. It was like twisting the knife that was already in your heart. If it had been up to me, I wouldn't have told you he was going to ask you to marry him. Sooner or later, you may have realized it yourself, though. Would it have been easier for you if there had been no ring?"

"Maybe," she breathed, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

Her gaze soon drifted to her ring. Maybe she really did need to take it off. "I don't know yet… Maybe in time," she replied.

"My advice is not to hesitate too long. It will be easier after that, believe me."

"I hope so," she smiled finally.

She was startled awake by the ringing of her phone. The rays of the full moon broke on the dry branches of the trees in the woods behind the house, and the silvery light painted indelible patterns on her bedspread with the shadows.

She forgot to close the blinds.

Her phone buzzed again and, still a little sleepy, she rolled onto her side in the huge double bed. She pulled aside the dark green canopy and reached for the vibrating device on the nightstand.

She glanced at the caller ID.

Of course.

Only David would call her in the middle of the night.

"What happened? Are you okay?" she immediately straightened up in her bed, holding her breath, waiting for her brother's answer.

"You're about to find out. We'll be home in five minutes. In the meantime, open the door and get the couch ready for Ruby." His voice sounded calm and Emma concluded that they couldn't be in too much trouble.

She ended the call, jumped up from the bed, and yanked open the door to her room. She ran down the hall and hopped down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. When she reached the front door, she took off the padlock, pulled out the deadbolt, unlocked the door, and opened it wide.

She ran back to the couch and tossed all the unnecessary things off of it. A couple of remotes, two blankets, and a few pillows landed on the cherry wood floor. Just as she stood up, she could hear the hurried footsteps of David and the others.

"Let me go! I can walk on my own two feet!" Ruby's voice sounded rather irritated, but her statement was immediately followed by a loud thud.

"I can see that," David hissed angrily, with a slight note of mockery in his tone. "Jones, if you will! She already tried to claw my eyes out…"

David marched into the apartment like an angry boar. He dropped his gun on the coffee table and sank into one of the black leather chairs. Leo and Robin nervously scurried into the living room, followed by Killian with Ruby in his arms.

Ruby stubbornly struggled against Killian, trying to break free of his grip, but he held her tight. It didn't matter that she could easily stand up to two guys, she couldn't outmaneuver Killian.

Killian wisely turned his face away from Ruby's tiny but sharp fingernails and carefully laid her on the couch.

"If any of you dare touch me again, I'll castrate you!" she growled, and then hissed, a grimace on her face immediately following.

"What happened?" Emma crouched down beside the brunette in horror.

"Can we go to your room?" Ruby pleaded desperately.

"No. She's been shot," David replied before getting up from the chair and drifting into the bathroom.

"What? Have you lost your minds? Why didn't you take her to a hospital?" Emma snapped, glaring at Leo and Robin.

"It was a miracle that we were even able to carry her here," Robin shrugged.

"I'll live," Ruby growled, but tears were running quietly down her face from the pain and exertion.

"Only if I take the bullet out and tend to the wound," David nodded.

"Ruby, we have to do this," Emma sat down next to her on the couch and took her hand.

She knew full well that she didn't like to be touched when she was injured. Ruby blinked up at David in alarm, disgust written all over her beautiful face. "Only you, David. No one else…" she moaned in a fading voice.

"All right, so be it. Let me over there, Emma. Take a look at Killian's arm until then."

She got up from the couch, grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and a bandage from the pile of medical supplies scattered on the table, and walked purposefully toward Killian, who stood silently by the banister.

"There's really no need," he shook his head with a forced smile when she reached him. "It's just a scratch, love, really not that serious."

"Not you, too."

"I don't—"

"Show me. I really don't have the patience for that right now, Killian," she interrupted him.

She didn't know what to make of the look he gave her. His impossibly blue eyes reflected annoyance, fear, and confusion all at once, but he soon relented and reluctantly peeled off his black leather jacket. The left sleeve of his shirt was completely soaked with blood.

He rolled up his sleeve. At first, she didn't see a wound under his many tattoos, it was hard for her to notice any damage done to his skin other than the scar that was already there. But as she scanned his arm she soon found a cut that seemed far too tiny for the amount of blood that adorned his clothing and skin. There was barely any blood flowing from it now.

"What the…" her eyes widened as she ran her finger over the wound, but Killian didn't even flinch. Right before her eyes, the cut disappeared under the ship wheel — or helm, as he called it — which wrapped around his bicep. "Killian," she stared at him, dumbfounded.

A mere Mage wouldn't be able to do that, even if he had as much power as Killian.

"There were Elves among my ancestors," he shrugged, his face becoming an imperturbable, grim mask. His gaze seemed petrified, expressionless.

That explained some strange things about Killian, Emma thought. He had an abnormally high physical resilience and was almost as fast as a Vampire or Werewolf. That couldn't be possible through mere magic.

"Oh," she couldn't force a more meaningful answer out of herself. "Why didn't you say that before?"

"I didn't think it was important," he shrugged.

"Sorry, but you don't look like an Elf," Leo shook his head with a grin.

Emma only now noticed that the other Hunters had been standing behind her the whole time.

"That's because I'm not one. Some of my ancestors were. I'm just a freak," his voice sounded strangely bitter and he turned his head away.

Instinctively, she took two steps away. Killian's icy magic flared up without warning, along with his rage.

"Hey, calm down, dude. I didn't mean it like that," Leo raised his hands.

"What's going on?" Mary Margaret reached the bottom of the stairs, still in her pajamas.

"Nothing new. Just a bit of bickering, the usual," Robin grinned.

Only now did Mary Margaret notice David at the other end of the room. A broad smile was on her face as she walked over to where he was still crouched by the couch, finishing patching Ruby up.

Emma turned away as they threw themselves into each other's embrace, kissing as if they hadn't seen each other in days. She glanced back at Killian who was watching her face with a coy expression. His gaze positively shone with panic, almost desperate.

"I… I apologize. I think I'd better go," he murmured, lowering his gaze.

He rolled down his sleeve and picked up his jacket, then stormed out of the apartment without further explanation. Emma stared after him, uncomprehending. She had always known he was kind of a weirdo. But this was unusual, even for Killian.

"What the hell was that?" she turned to Robin, confused.

"He's a little cuckoo in the head. You'd better not get any more friendly with him than you already have," Robin shook his head. "Seriously. He can be pretty scary sometimes. He's pretty weird."

She didn't answer, just stared after Killian thoughtfully. She agreed with Robin that there was something up with him. But she immediately ruled out the possibility that he was suffering from some sort of mental illness.

"You knew about this?" Leo turned to Robin.

"That he was part Elf? No, I would never have guessed that. But now that I think about it, it makes perfect sense. He's done things he wouldn't have been able to do otherwise," Robin replied and goosebumps appeared on Emma's arm.

Maybe Robin was right. She shouldn't get close to him.

#cssns21 #cssns 2021 #captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #killian jones #emma swan #killian x emma #captain swan supernatural summer #thejollyroger writer #cs fanfiction #ouat #once upon a time #ouat ff #captain hook #TWPYR #captain swan ff

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter two: coffee times ten

part three of sudden desire

prologue / one / masterlist

in which two best friends won’t admit they’re in love so decide to have a baby together instead.

pairing: marcus pike x original female character

summary: coffee, coffee and more coffee. coraline ropes marcus into babysitting duties.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: the slightest smidge of angst? boyfriend material marcus (needs his own warning because he’s soft af), mentions of divorce? mentions of pregnancy? two idiots being domestic af without realising it. honestly i’m just pulling these warnings out of my ass idk what counts anymore

author’s note: sorry if there’s any errors, i’m honestly the world’s worst proofreader (last time i went to post this, there were still passages from when this wasn’t fanfiction and marcus was an actor like cora, cause that would have made total sense!) but also i get super hypercritical so it’s best if i just don’t read and reread my work oops... anyway, enjoy!

Monday morning comes and she’s wearing the dress that he likes. It's the yellow one she wore the day they met, the reason he calls her sunshine, and she smiles as she sweeps effortlessly into the coffee shop. Coraline pushes the sunglasses she's wearing up onto her head and greets him with a hug and a small 'hello' muffled against his shoulder. 

It's only January but the sun still seeps in too brightly through the shop's thatched windows; it casts her in a halo of gold as she sits in the armchair across from him. Even despite the warmth pooling in the air, he can tell she's still cold, from the way her shoulders shrink inwards and she wraps her arms around herself. If she is cold, she doesn't let him know, just takes a moment to run her hands up her arms before wrapping them around the mug of coffee he'd ordered her. He'd told her to go see someone about it — constant chills aren't exactly normal — but she'd refused, brushing off his concern with a simple shrug of her shoulders and an insistence that she'd be fine. She'd also pointed out that it was, in fact, January and it was meant to be cold, even if it wasn't. It still hasn't stopped him from worrying, though. 

"You left early last night." He points out. Last night, some high-end gallery opening in downtown D.C., too many cameras and far too many people. He’d invited her as his plus one, purely platonically, of course, and because he knew she was the only friend he had that liked art just as much as he did, though she hadn't wanted to go. He hadn't blamed her, especially when they’d got there; Coraline's ex, Scott, and his new girlfriend had shown up, apparently friends with the gallery owner, their hands a little too wandering. If his ex and their new partner showed up, flouting their relationship in front of him, he'd be pretty upset and reluctant to go, too. He’d managed to persuade her to come the night before, albeit through incessant nagging, so much so that he thinks she probably only relented to shut him up. Though, looking back at it now, he wishes they had just stayed at home.

Coraline hums into her coffee cup. Her brown hair still falls in loose, half-styled curls around her face; she tucks a little behind her ear. "I was tired. My bed was calling," she insists with a bright smile. 

He doesn't entirely believe her, even though she's a pretty great actress and, consequently, just as good at hiding how she really feels. Because he knows she saw them last night. It was hard not to; a cramped room like that gave you no place to hide, and they weren't exactly being subtle. He saw the way she'd shuffle uncomfortably then their laughter would filter through the quiet space, soft but still piercing. Marcus was convinced that they were doing it on purpose, especially when he caught Scott stealing glances from across the room whenever he thought no one was looking. He was trying to get a reaction and, being as graceful as she was, she hadn't given him that, even if she had spent the entire night with her brows furrowed and wearing a smile he could tell was fake.

He watches her curiously; the way she sips her coffee slowly, how her hair curls softly against her neck, the gentle curve of her pink lips that seems permenant around him. But he’s never been the most subtle, at least, not around her. She notices him staring, gaze lingering for far too long over the gentle contours of her face, and their eyes meet for a second; they're immediately lit by another even brighter smile that pulls across her glossed lips. "What?" She questions. Her cheeks always flush pink whenever he looks at her for longer than a moment. 

He shakes his head, returning her smile, perhaps a little too enthusiastically when his teeth peak through a little. "Nothing, I just-" I just want you to be happy, he thinks. But he doesn't say it, because she must know that already, and just shakes his head. "Nothing." He repeats. 

"You're staring."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are." She chuckles, poking his leg with the toe of her boot. “Why are you staring?”

"Cora, I'm not staring."

He is staring. He can't help it. Especially when she smiles. 

She regards him for a second. Sometimes, he wonders if she can read his mind, given the way her eyes trace over his face like she's reading a book. Truthfully, he wouldn’t mind if she did read his mind. "I'm fine." She answers the unspoken question lingering thick in the air. The real reason he's looking at her like he is. A laugh lilts at the edges of her insistence and he can tell that she's lying; there's a furrow pulling at her eyebrows that gives her away. He’s learned to look for it. "Why wouldn't I be?" She knows exactly why. But it seems like that's all they talk about, how she is. And she doesn't want to anymore. She's fine. 

Because your ex-husband spent the entire night trying to make you jealous, he wants to say. But he doesn't. He leaves it alone.

Marcus leant back in his chair. He doesn't push it. "No reason." 

Coraline peers at him over the top of her coffee cup — it's almost too big for her hands — but she doesn't press it further, even if she does raise her eyebrows a little. Or, at least, she doesn't get a chance too, because someone is calling out to her from across the coffee shop. "No reason." She repeats with a soft hum. 

She peels her eyes away from Marcus, almost like it's some great hardship to stop looking at him, and turns her smile towards whoever had called her name. He recognises her as Loren Hull, Coraline's childhood best friend, struggling to push through the door with a stroller, even as someone holds the door open for her and another helps her inside. 

Coraline watches with amusement as Loren teeters towards them. "How are you?" She asks as she hugs her. Her attention switches towards the gurgling baby in the stroller; she was chewing on a toy, far too preoccupied to pay attention to anything that was going on around her. That was until she catches sight of Coraline and cries out with glee. "And how's my favourite goddaughter?" She coos. 

Loren huffs out a groan. Her blonde hair is tied haphazardly on top of her head, curls spilling out at either side, falling into her face. There are dark circles beneath her green eyes. "She's great-" She grins down at her daughter for a moment before her head throws back. "But I'm exhausted." She's talking far too fast, the words falling from her mouth, in the same way, an almost nonsensical rambling might. It's almost like she thinks that, if she doesn't talk fast, she'll never be able to get the words out. "I can't stay long- oh, hey, Marcus-" It's like in her hurry and she hasn't noticed he's there until now. He doesn't blame her; Coraline has mentioned that she's still getting to grips with being a single mom. "-but I need coffee otherwise I'm going to pass out."

Coraline is grinning down at Loren's daughter, Maisie, whispering soft 'hello's at her, completely distracted by the baby who seemed just as captivated. The baby giggles and reaches for Cora's fingers, kicking her legs excitedly under the pink blanket. "I could look after her tonight if you need some rest." Her eyes don't leave Maisie, who's tiny fingers wrap tightly around Coraline's pointer finger. Half of him wonders if she'd actually meant to offer her help or if the whispers had come out before she had chance to think them through. 

"You could?" Loren's face lights up with relief. 

"Of course!" Cora's eyes come to rest on Marcus. "Would you mind?" 

"Not at all." He shoots her a smile. They're meant to be seeing a movie. It's some horror film he's never heard of; he isn't a massive fan of horror but Coraline had wanted to see it — it had something to do with her and her father watching horror films together when she was younger, even if they were terrible and laughably cheesy — and had managed to persuade him the night before at the gala, when they were both a little too tipsy and he was trying his best to distract her as Scott's lips dragged over his new girlfriend's neck. He'd glanced up every now and then, just to see if she was watching them. Luckily, she never was. 

"Oh, you're a lifesaver." Loren exhales, like she's been underwater for months and her head has only just poked above the surface. "Both of you." She turns to Marcus and flashes him a bright but exhausted smile. 

"What are best friend's for?" Cora chuckles as Loren pulls away to order her drink. "Drop her off later."

"I'll be by at seven," she announces as she grabs her drink, backing the stroller out of the coffee shop with decidedly more grace than when she'd entered. Patrons part the way for her and she murmurs a 'sorry' at everyone she passes or accidentally whacks with her nappy bag. 

Coraline's eyes linger on the baby for a few moments longer as they leave; her expression flickers, softening, like she's considering something, like she's plagued by conflict. Coraline taps her fingers on the table, perfect pale pink nails rapping a steady beat against the wood. Eventually, her eyebrows furrow and she draws back into herself, like realisation has hit and she's snapped herself back to reality. 

"Are you sure you don't mind? You can find something else to do, you don't have to become a pro bono babysitter with me." She wants him to help her out. She really does. She tries not to let the hopeful glint reach her eyes.

But she feels especially bad because Marcus rarely has days off. It's a rare Sunday when he's in between cases and hasn’t been dragged in on a weekend. And she's dragging him along to look after a baby he's never even met before. 

He shakes his head. "Why would I mind?" He gets to spend time with her. He enjoys her company too much to turn her down.

She shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. He can tell by the way that she scowls that it's gone a little cold. He doesn't know how she drinks it, anyway. There's too much caramel — it was far too sweet — but she seemed to like it and he'd seen her tired self go through three in an hour before. "Changing diapers isn't exactly a thrilling pastime."

"I'm sure I'll live."

Coraline pushes herself to her feet. A breeze ruffles the skirt of her dress, billowing the pale yellow fabric against her knees like it had a mind of its own. She finishes off the last drops of her drink and sighs. "Well, then, we’re going to need some more coffee."

...

Coraline has been rushing around her apartment for most of the day. She isn't sure if she's nervous or if she just has too much caffeine buzzing through her veins. Perhaps it's both. She's not even aware of her surroundings, only that Marcus has been sitting on the couch trying to get her to relax for the past hour and she's fussed meticulously over every square inch of her apartment at least three times. She just needs to keep her hands busy. 

"Cora, she's a baby." He chuckles as Coraline scowls at the magazines on the coffee table. She bends down to straighten them, huffing out an inpatient breath as she does so. "She's not going to care what your apartment looks like."

She ignores him, turning swiftly on her heels to straighten out the woollen throw draping over her couch. "Relax," Marcus insists. He watches her with concern as she pauses, sucks in a shallow breath and turns to slump down against the opposite end of the couch. Her head falls back against the cushions. "What's wrong?"

"It's just-" She doesn't even know what she means to say. She doesn't really have an explanation for it — why she's frantically rushing around her apartment trying to keep her mind off Maisie and the babysitting job she'd found herself — so she doesn't bother offering one. Maybe it's because all she can think about is how much she'd wanted a baby when she was with Scott and how she has no idea what she wants anymore, now that he's gone and she's alone again. Everything's so confusing now; she can barely bring herself to think about it. It just doesn't make sense. Coraline tells Marcus a lot of things (he probably knows more about her than Loren does, and they'd been best friends since they were six) but some things just weren't for sharing. Maybe he already knows. She hopes he does, it would make things much easier, and then she doesn’t have to bite back pointless tears when she eventually tells him. 

Coraline lets out an overly-dramatic sigh and turns her head towards Marcus. He's still watching her, brown eyes softer now. He smiles and she shakes her head to clear away the thoughts. "I'm glad you're here, you know," she admits. Her eyes drag back up to the ceiling. 

"Of course you are. You'd never survive without me." He quips. 

"Oh, sure. How I ever managed to live twenty-eight years without you, I'll never know."

Marcus' eyes crease at the corner as he laughs a little at his joke. "I know you'll be good at this whole baby thing." She lulls her head to the side to watch him; she shuffles against her hip, resting her cheek against the dimpled green couch cushion and watches him as his dark eyes light up. In the time that she's known him, barely even six months, though it seems like far longer, she can only think of a handful of times when she'd seen him without a smile. Even then, most of those were after a long day of paperwork, and she could usually make him smile after a few minutes of prodding at him to tell her what's wrong. 

"I have work early tomorrow." Coraline points out. "This was a bad idea. I should be sleeping."

"Well, you did offer.”

"I know, and it was a terrible idea." She sighs. "Y’know, I think Maisie hates me."

"Maisie is a baby, Cora."

"Babies still have feelings, Marcus."

He chuckles. "She loves you, don't be ridiculous."

His words are punctuated by a knock on the door. It's almost frantic, like whoever's on the other side's intentions are urgent. Coraline groans a little as she stands up; she knows exactly who it is and she drags her feet towards the door, trying her best to push past her concern. She lowers her head to the door's peephole before yanking it open. She has a wide grin on her face when she greets Loren and Maisie. "Good evening." Her voice is lilting, soft and bright and cheerful, like Marcus is used to hearing. It makes him smile, the way she's gone from a worry that seemed to be spreading rapidly through her back to her bright self. He's never seen her so panicked, even around her ex; she's normally so laid back and relaxed. 

Coraline pulls the door open a little further before sweeping Maisie and her stroller inside. Loren murmurs that she's asleep and Cora starts to rock the stroller back and forth, trying her best to keep the baby asleep for as long as she can. It gave her time to regain her scattered composure. Marcus pushes himself up from the armchair he'd been reclined in and sweeps over to take Maisie from Coraline and away from the entryway. 

"Oh-" It startles her a little, when his hands reach out and fingers accidentally brush over her wrist. "Thank you." She smiles at him softly as he backs the stroller out into the living room. 

"Marcus is here?" Loren's eyes light up and a grin pulls at her lips when he falls out of earshot. Her eyebrows raise playfully. 

"Yes."

Her grin only widens. "Are you on a date?"

"No." Coraline scoffs. 

Loren doesn't seem to be giving up and she certainly doesn't believe her. She never does, not usually. She seems to have convinced herself that Cora and Marcus are in love or secretly dating, or both. "This is a date, isn't it?"

"It's not a date, Loren." Cora rolls her eyes but she can't help but smile. She tried to conceal it but she can't stifle the way her corners quirk upwards. It's most definitely not a date — that had ever even crossed her mind — and it's just hilarious how Loren seems to be convinced that her oldest friend is harbouring a secret affection for her best friend. She looks between them both with a glint in her blue eyes, like she knows something they don't and she's just waiting for them to figure it out. Except there’s nothing to figure out. They’re friends. Just friends.

"Whatever you say.” She giggles. Loren smiles back at Marcus, who's stood back by the couch, rocking the stroller back and forth. Coraline follows her gaze and smiles fondly at him; he's not paying attention to them and he doesn't notice the way they're both watching him. 

"We're just friends," Coraline insists again as she turns back to Loren. 

"Sure you are." She smirks. ”I promise I won’t say ‘I told you so’.”

"Just go." Coraline takes her best friend by the shoulders and guides her back out of the door but she can't help the smile that spills onto her lips again. 

"Can I be your maid of honour?"

"Go home and sleep!" 

"Please!"

"I'm shutting the door now, goodbye."

"There are diapers in the bag and she's already been fed," Loren adds hastily as Coraline inched the door shut. "I'll be back in a few hours."

...

Maisie slept for a little while, but now she's wide awake, giggling and trying her best to grab Coraline's curls. The baby sits on Cora's lap, small fingers reaching out towards her insistently. She'd offer her one of the toys Loren had left for her but she only seems interested in them for a few seconds before Coraline's hair tumbles over her shoulder and she grows distracted again. 

She's torn between tying her hair up or just letting Maisie tug on it to her heart's content. But she doesn't; she just lightly whispers no with a shake of her head, a smile and a shake of whatever toy she reaches for first. And it's a never-ending cycle until finally, Maisie decides that hair isn't for her and she prefers the blue teething ring that Coraline reaches for last.

"You really are great with her,” Marcus comments. 

She chuckles, a breathy laugh through her nose. "I'm great with everyone." She pokes her tongue at the corner of her lip and grins. He notices, when she does that, says something about herself being great or that she's good at something, her cheeks flush pink a little. She only means it as a joke, he knows that, but it's almost like it embarrasses her to say or think anything like that. Her eyes betray the way she struggles with it. 

"I have nephews." She shrugs. "I was a great babysitter back in the day."

Maisie makes a gleeful noise, halfway between a squeal and a laugh, and drops the teething ring to the sofa, disinterested. She makes a grab for Coraline's hair again, reaching forward to try and swipe it between her fingers. But Cora's own fingers block her clutches. "No," she whispers quietly with a smile and a chuckle. She pushes her small hand away gently but Maisie delights in it, face illuminating in a grin, and reaches out for Coraline’s curls insistently. 

Marcus reaches down to pick up the toy as Coraline laughs, too distracted to even bother. His arm brushes hers as he does so. She's always struck by how warm he is. The first time she'd noticed it, the day they'd first met, she thought it was because of the sun streaming in through the briefing room’s glass windows. But she’d noticed it every single time he’d touched her since — even just the slightest touch or brush of a hand — until she thinks she’s used to it. She isn’t. His touch warms whatever bare skin it touches immediately and she shudders; Marcus doesn't seem to notice and she's glad because she doesn't want to explain that one fleeting touch from him warms up her entire, otherwise freezing, body.

It's a cliche, she knows that. The kind of cliche you read about in cheesy romance novels. It makes her cheeks burn — Coraline knows she's going bright red; she can feel it crawling slowly over her skin and she shivers like there's a cold breeze dancing it's way up the back of her neck — because she doesn't know what it means. She's never really felt it before she met him, this odd, confusing burn that started in her chest, then blooms out like flowers through her whole body. She usually just brushes it off because it happens whenever and wherever, without warning It just arrives out of the blue, triggered by a glance or a laugh or the briefest touch of a hand. It's ridiculous but she can't help but turn it over and over and over in her mind at night, when she tries to sleep, until she's restless and staring at the wooden beams that stretch across her bedroom ceiling. 

"Do you want kids?" Coraline asks. It’s out of the blue. Her expression almost makes it seem like she wants him to ask her the question, like she's desperate to talk about it with someone, anyone, before it bursts from her chest. Although, he can't help but wonder if she never meant to ask, or if she regrets asking, given the way her eyes fall back to Maisie who's resumed her chewing on the teething ring again. Though, Coraline barely realises she's given anything away. Then again, she doesn't even realise that there is anything to give away. She's so enchanted by the baby and the brush of Marcus' arm against hers that she's giving away maybe a little more than she intends. It's strange to see her like this given her flustered panic of just an hour earlier. 

Marcus takes a moment, a pause to figure out the right answer, then he nods a little. "I would, yes. Some day." He pauses for another second, watching the way her eyes glimmer as she looks at her goddaughter. He already knows her answer before he even asks the question. Or, at least, the real answer. "Do you?"

Coraline's eyes light up; her blue eyes look like the sky on a sunny day. "Maybe," she hums. When she looks up to meet his eyes, the small smile she gives betrays the truth. But she cuts it off like it's wrong or forbidden or downright ridiculous, like she shouldn't feel those things. He notices the way her lips falter like she's biting back the urge to say something, a secret on the tip of her tongue, and how she tugs her lower lip in between her teeth to stop her from smiling again. 

He thinks he knows what makes her so unsure about that. Why she cuts herself off and seems to tell herself it's wrong. She's mentioned it once before, when she was tired — she talks a lot when she's tired, but it's mostly incoherent mumblings that he has to admit, he finds adorable — that Scott didn't want kids. Marcus has never brought up what she’d told him (if she really wants him to know, she'd have told him by now, when she's completely coherent and conscious) but it tugs at the edge of his thoughts as her sentences go quiet when she sees a mother and their baby. They make her smile fondly. It's a smile that's been all-too-lacking since her divorce. 

He understands. It’s happened to him before, twice now. Twice he’s faced heartbreak, that horrible moment when things go sour. When you’re left with a million little ‘what ifs’, wondering where exactly things went so wrong. Wondering if there was anything you could have done, anything at all, to make things better. It’s a dull ache that sits deep in his chest. And it’s agonising. He hates how familiar the feeling has become. 

Marcus has never told her about his past relationships - about his first marriage and eventual divorce, about his last engagement and how it had ended almost as quickly as it had begun, how he’d found himself alone in D.C. without a soul in the world to talk to - and he also hasn’t told her that meeting her was like a fresh start, like the sun had finally peaked through the rain clouds that had hung over his head for so long. She’d helped him settle, finally, even after six months struggling to feel at home in a new, lonely city. She’d welcomed him, helped him find new friends, and stuck by him the entire time. She doesn’t have to be his friend; he’s sure she has much cooler, younger friends that don’t spend most of their days hunched over an ever-growing mountain of paperwork or hidden away inside some tiny downtown art gallery. Sure, he’d be upset if their weekly meetings came to a halt, but he wouldn’t blame her if she chose someone more like herself over him.

Mostly, Marcus just hadn't wanted to dredge up old feelings, not when she was in the thick of a divorce and clearly struggling, no matter how much she pretended she was okay. So he never told her what had happened. When she'd confided in him for the first time those few short months ago, spilling her deepest secrets, staying up until 3am just pouring her heart out to him over the phone, he'd wondered if it was best to tell her. To let her know that he knew how she felt, that he understood. But he still hasn't. She’s asked about his past before, nagging until he relented and revealed things he's never really had much trouble revealing before, and he has told her parts of it. But he usually skirts around the details, like there's nothing important to reveal. He isn't sure why he does it, especially when she opens up to him so easily. He guesses that the moment has never seemed right. 

Maisie's hand is twisted into the fabric of Coraline's dress. She shakes the teething ring in her hands like it's a rattle. "I've never had the chance," she admits, suddenly. "To have kids."

"You've still got time."

"Barely." She sighs. He raises an eyebrow, like he's asking her what she means, but she doesn't continue. She waves a hand and brushes off his concern. "It's not important," she insists. 

But it is important. He knows it is. And, if it matters to her, it matters to him.

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