#i would so forget i had just gone official if he left me that voicemail | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suchalonelysunflower · 3 years

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I’ll Be With You (c.h)

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Summary: Songfic inspired by “Drive” by Ashton Irwin. One ride can change your life and Calum hopes he could mend his mistakes with you.

Warnings: ANGST. Language. Mentions of a character’s death (not explicit) Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 6K

Author’s note: This is an unofficial second part to You Said Forever, but you don’t need to read it in order to understand. Please remember that Reblogs, Comments, Feedback and Likes are very important! You don’t know how much it helps me 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading ✨🦋🌻

My materialist // wanna be part of my taglist?

Thank you Andy for the picture

“ I know that you’re hurting

I know you still care

I know his voicemails sound like a lullaby”

You’ve been staring at the wall for what it felt like hours, which was probably true. Your thoughts were made of nothing as your eyes clashed with your wallpaper. You wanted them to be made of nothing.

You wished you could allow yourself not to think. Just to shut down for the day and stop thinking. Thinking made you cry and your head hurts when you cry. He always hated to see you cry.

The house felt empty even though you were sitting right there in the living room. Yet, it almost seemed like you weren’t there like you were just a ghost who you once were before you lost two people in under six months.

How could anyone expect you to be the same? Yes, the losses have been different. But that doesn’t mean their absence didn’t hurt.

You wish it could stop hurting. But at the same time, you wish it could tear you apart. To feel pain is to feel something and you were so scared to stop feeling. It happened once before with the first loss and now, now you just want everything to be over with.

But you were still staring at the wall, nothing’s changed. They were gone and you were here. They left and now you are alone.

Maybe it was always meant to be this way. Maybe it was a sign for you to never love someone else and to not let anyone else love you. What’s the point if they are going to leave anyway?

The ticking of the clock became your only friend amid silence. You took comfort in its tick-tack, the melody of your desolation. You’ve heard it once before and since then you couldn’t stop hearing it, not since that night where you counted the seconds for him to respond. Now you counted the seconds again, still hoping everything would just stop.

A 10-second answer.

“I’m not ready for a relationship”

A 10-second call.

“We lost him”

Who would’ve known that 10 seconds could last forever?

You wondered if you should call; if he would answer. If he knew...But then you remembered you blocked his number to never call again. It’s not like he would’ve answered anyway, not as he would care.

Your relationship with Calum ended before it even began. You were never official but you carried yourselves as such. It was magical until it wasn’t; until he stopped answering and started developing feelings for another.

It wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t control what he felt. But he was the one who decided to end things without telling you, all because he was scared. You were too, not that he cared.

And now, you know you shouldn’t miss him. You moved on and started all over again, promising yourself that he won’t ever see you cry again. Your music career blew up and now you had an album coming up in a few months. The awards and recognitions you won from your first single, the one that was inspired by him, were hanging on your wall like trophies, proof that you could be happy without him and you were.

Until that 10 second call in the middle of the night.

And now you felt like a child. Seeking comfort in the arms of someone who is not coming back. Knowing that the only one who you wanted to be with at the moment was living his best life without you. Not knowing, not caring.

He threw you away like a doll he didn’t want to play with anymore. Or at least that’s how it felt like. He taught you what it meant to love and then backtracked once he realized he felt the same but was not ready to act on his feelings, letting you figure that out by ghosting you like it was nothing.

You felt stupid for wanting him back, he hurt you the most, and yet, you needed him to feel safe. He was your best friend before becoming something else.

It was almost like you weren’t in control of what you were feeling. It was too much and at the same time not enough. You wanted him, you needed him. You want him to love you again like he used to and make everything okay again. But you also wanted him gone and for him to stay that way. You didn’t want his pity or his love words again. You didn’t want to see him and make every little broken piece of your heart stain again just at the sight of him, at the sound of his voice calling your name again.

What's worse? What’s the cure and what’s the sickness? Would you rather forgive and forget? Or just forget that it ever happened?

Did it ever happen?

Loud bangs coming from the door pushed your thoughts away from your mind. You were spiraling again and you didn’t even notice.

The bangs came stronger, yet no one was calling your name. You wondered who could it be; who could be crazy enough to bang on your door in the middle of the night, hours after one of the worst days of your life?

You thought about ignoring it, pretending that you’re asleep when in reality you haven’t slept for days. But the stranger didn’t know that and they could easily go away once they believe you’re in bed, tucked away in dreams.

But whoever it was didn’t stop. You counted the seconds, 5 bangs in one second, one; two; three; four; five, and 5 bangs again. This person wouldn’t have let you sleep even if you wanted to.

After two more series of bangs, you got up from your spot on the sofa, leaving an indentation on the cushion due to the hours you spent looking at nothing. You smothered your black clothes and walked to the door.

The other person was in the middle of another series of bangs when you opened the door, leaving his fist mid-air as he noticed you standing in front of him.

What was he doing here?

If you were surprised you didn’t show it. Maybe you weren’t that surprised to see him standing there with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. His hair was a mess and his eyes had some dark bags underneath it; you assumed you looked the same: tired and hopeless.

His eyes were still the same, shining with a gleam you haven’t seen in a while, hopeful for something greater than life. Yours, however, were hallowed and gloomy, no emotions whatsoever as you gazed into the eyes of the man who you wanted to call yours one day.

He looked so different from the Calum who was standing at the same spot all those months ago when he told you he needed time. And you were so different from the Y/N who stood in pain of just seeing him. Now the roles were reversed, cause at this moment you thought you'd never seen him so quiet, so inside himself. Maybe he was in pain too.

“C’mon. Let’s go” He said, nudging his head to make you follow him into the dark street.

He didn’t say hello. He didn’t need to, not with you at least. You don’t even remember saying goodbye after that night.

Calum stood there, waiting for you to answer. His brown eyes were pleading, but you knew he wouldn’t force you to do anything, he knows he didn’t deserve it and he wouldn’t blame you if you closed the door on his face. But you didn’t.

Instead, like a fool, you followed him.

He got into his car, the same color white with tinted windows and the indentation of that one time you accidentally hit a motorcycle that stopped abruptly before you on the street, and you climbed into the passenger seat, buckling up your seatbelt and pulling your legs to your chest.

Calum started the engine and didn’t turn on the radio, he just began driving into the night. You weren’t talking, but you didn’t need to; the silence needed to be heard.

It’s not the first time you did this. Before he went on tour you would call, or he would call just to spend some time together as you drove by the coast. Words were optional as you let time slip through your fingers, enjoying every second of it in the presence of each other.

“Just drive” You would say, and that was enough.

You saw the lights of the city pass by. The red lights covering you in its lights, creating an atmosphere of security within their red halo. You closed your eyes for a moment at the clicking sound of the turn signal and let you be swayed away by the left and right turns Calum would do to get to the PCA.

He had his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel, one of his fingers lightly patting the plastic as he didn’t know what to do with it, this time he can’t just put his hand on your thigh like he used to.

You could tell he had some things to say, he always did, but he was keeping them in and you were thankful for that. You weren’t sure if you were ready to talk yet, or if you were ready to talk at all, right now you were enjoying the silence and the roaring sounds of the pavement and you would’ve liked it to keep it that way.

The destination was unknown, it always was. You would recognize the stores and the streets as you passed them by, but there was never a limit to where you could go. Many times you ended up driving as far as San Diego or San Francisco, sometimes you ended up somewhere in the desert where no one could hear you. But it didn’t matter where you’d end up as long as you came back, but how could you come back from this?

Calum must’ve been driving for a few minutes or hours, you wouldn’t know. The night sky stayed the same and you refused to look at him just yet. You knew why he was here, it was as obvious as the stars at night, and you found the strangest comfort in that even though you were still pretty mad about everything he did.

Calum, however, looked back and forwards between you and the road. He hasn’t seen you in such a long time and these are horrible circumstances to see each other again after he fucked up. Cause he will admit it: He fucked up, big time. But how could he fix it now when you won’t even look at him?

Who were you now? Were you the same Y/N he knew and loved? His Y/N never looked that small, that broken and bruised and tucked away in a world of hurt. He knew he had something to do with that, but right now that was the least of his problems. It was clear to him that right now all you needed was not to be alone and he was glad he could help.

A few minutes later, Calum spotted a gas station and parked the car for a few minutes.

“Gonna fill up the tank and get some coffee from the store,” He said as he unbuckled his seatbelt “Do you want anything?”

You were still looking at the window, the white dirty neon lights illuminated your profile as you shook your head. Not ready to give a verbal answer.

Calum sighed “Okay, you can go stretch your legs if you want. I’m not going to take long”

He jumped out of the car and you waited until he entered the store to jump out as well, letting the neon lights and buzzing bugs invade your feelings as you stood upright.

You cracked your neck and the bones of your back, letting out a sigh of relief once you feel yourself go back to normal. You walked around the car and back again, trying to clear your mind with some fresh air. You realized by the stars illuminating the sky that you must be on your way to a desert, not really caring which or where, but happy that you were far away from where you were supposed to be.

Calum came back a minute later holding a bag and two cups of coffee.

“Here,” He said, handing you the brown paper bag and the coffee cup. You looked at him questionably “I-I know that when you’re upset you don’t eat much and- I just wanted to make sure-”

The words ‘that you’re okay’ were stuck in his throat as he watched your eyes fill with tears that you weren’t ready to shed. He just nodded instead.

“The coffee is terrible, but the cookie might be good. I’m sorry, it’s all they had-“

“Thank you,” You said with the faintest voice. Calum felt his heart stop for a second, he hadn't heard your voice in so long and he wished he could hear it again as the night went on.

“You’re welcome,” He said with a tiny smile before turning around and walking up to the driver’s seat, chuckling to himself as he heard you cough the horrible tasting coffee after one sip.

A couple of hours pass and you are still on the road. You remained quiet as time went by, you knew Calum didn't mind but you also knew that he hoped for you to talk, not only about today but about everything as well. And what a beautiful irony that was. He was the quiet one ever since you met; shy and gentle towards the new artist who started working at the studio, it sparked up your curiosity towards him. Your friends said that you were trying too hard, but there was something about Calum that just begged you to know him. Little would you know that it would’ve become the best and worst decision of your life.

You were so in your mind that you missed the moment he started humming a melody you couldn’t recognize, but you didn’t care about that as you got lost in the sound of his low voice trapped willingly on his throat. You missed his singing the most. Every time he started singing you would just sit and listen intently, entranced by his voice like a pirate who fell in love with a mermaid. He always said you had the best voice out of the two of you and you would always disagree, he never understood how his voice comforted you to the point of almost being hypnotized by it and you never understood how much you needed to hear him until now.

You still felt that tingly sensation that begged of you to run away; make Calum take you back home and never see him again for your own good. But another part of you pleaded for you to stay, to treasure this moment and never let it go again, hoping that things will turn out just fine and you could start all over. You didn’t know which part of you talked with logic or with the heart, you didn’t know who to listen to. So you just listened to him hum.

“I never heard that song before,” You said once he’s done, or at least you thought he was.

Calum snapped his head towards you at the sound of your voice. This time you sounded clear, a bit hoarse, and still much quieter than what he was used to, but it was enough for him to smile a little.

“I don’t think you would’ve. It’s some kind of TikTok song” He said, eyes on you the entire time while you kept your head straight for the empty road. You chuckled and he felt like he could touch the sky with his hands, he always loved making you laugh and now he got to do that again.

“You’re on TikTok?” You asked, teasingly.

“Shh,” Calum shushed with a smile, pleased with the banter “Don’t tell the fans about my secret account”

You pressed your lips on a thin line “It’s not like you tell anyone much, anyway”

Calum’s smile flattered. “Y/N-” He whispered but you cut him down quickly.

“Eyes on the road, Hood” And you stayed quiet again.

Calum reluctantly took his eyes off you after shooting you a sorrowful look. He could swear he heard Ashton’s voice saying he fucked up over and over in his head.

You always hated secrets and his life was full of them. When he asked you to keep whatever you got on the down-low you agreed, not because you liked it, but because you respected his privacy. You thought you only had to keep it hidden from the media and the fans, however, you didn’t expect to have to hide it from everyone including his bandmates, who were also your friends. He promised you you would come clean after you make it official, yet that day never came.

He chose to run away from his feelings. He said he loved you, yet he kept you from the truth, hiding his secrets from you until the pictures where he kissed a girl on tour saw the light, simultaneously bringing his dirty laundry to face the consequences. He told you the truth once he came back; he was not ready for a real relationship but that he truly loved you and he meant every word. But, how can you trust the words of a liar?

Calum knew this, and ever since that day he’s been regretting letting you go. He needed time to figure his shit out, he needed to know if it was real or just a game, not only for him but for you as well. The night he broke your heart he realized it had already been broken when he stopped replying to your calls and messages. He foolishly thought that you would be okay, that you needed time as well, but once you were really gone did he understand.

He decided to come clean to the guys one night, he couldn’t keep it in his heart anymore, not after seeing your face drained of color and filled with tears. He could still hear the disappointment in everyone’s voices, especially Ashton’s who considered you like one of them “You didn’t just lose a love, you lost a friend” He said, and those words have been haunting him ever since.

Now you hate him, or at least he thinks you do. You haven’t said much to him and you won’t even look at him. He told himself time and again that he didn't mind, you were going through a lot at the moment and he just wants to be with you and that your company is more than enough. And he meant that, with all his heart and soul. Yet, his mind keeps railing him to do something, to help you lift your spirits somehow and hear you laugh again cause he knows that’s the only thing that could make him feel better. You make him better but you were so far away, even at an arm's length distance; you never felt so far.

A yawn passed his mouth, he tried to keep it hidden so you wouldn’t notice, but you did.

“Stop the car,” You said once this happened two more times.

“What?” Calum asked, alarm clear in his eyes and voice at your request.

You were on a road in the middle of the desert, there was not a soul who wandered over there and no sign of life either. It was just the two of you in the car.

“Pull over and stop the car,” You said, finally looking at him, but your eyes were everything but tender as the seriousness in your voice became palpable “You need a break, you are too tired to keep driving like this. So you are going to pull over at the side of the road and take a walk and wake the hell up”

Calum needn’t be told twice, not with that look in your eyes at least. His heart grew warm at the thought of you caring enough for him to let him take a break, but his hoped shattered at the words you spoke next:

“And then you take me home” It was a whisper, almost inaudible, but Calum heard it loud and clear.

He pulled over after a few meters and you were the first one to get out of the car. Calum watched as you stretched your legs and arms in the middle of the windless desert air. The moonlight shined over you and mistook you as one of her angels, at least that’s what Calum thought of seeing you standing there.

With a sigh, he unblocked his seatbelt and did the same things you did: he stretched and walked around the car a couple of times, trying to get enough energy to get back on the road again. Suddenly, his pacing came to a stop when he heard the faintest sniffle coming from where you were standing.

Your head was thrown back, eyes fixed on the sky as your arms wrapped around yourself. The clear night sky was in full view, letting even the rarest constellations come to life. You felt so small standing in front of the massive universe, hoping that maybe he could see you from where he is, no matter how small you were to him now.

Calum came to stand next to you, he didn’t say anything but you felt him staring right at you. This time you didn’t hide the silent tears that started rolling down your cheek.

“He loved the stars, you know?” You said, tears coating your voice as you stared into the night “He always talked about the Greek origin of the constellations and what they mean. I never really paid much attention to it and… now I wish I had”

Your father was a nerd, your mum always told you so, but he was the kind of nerd that loved studying and teaching and discovering that it never felt like a burden to him. He was always excited to show you some discovery he or other people made, to teach you the history of things and how everything is connected.

You were so scared to tell him that your dream didn’t belong in a university, that you wanted to see the world and make music that matters to people and you, and that it might be a long shot but that you believed you could do it. He was your number one supporter from the start, saying that you were his brightest star and that he couldn’t wait to see how you would leave your mark on this world.

The last time he called you was to tell you that he heard your song on the radio while he was shopping for groceries, he was so proud that he even told the cashier “That’s my baby singing” and you could hear the laugh in his voice when he told you he had to prove that you were actually his child and he was not just a creep in the supermarket.

That was the last time you said I love you and he said it back.

“He was a great man, Y/N,” Calum said, not looking at the stars that sparkled in the sky; no, he was looking at the star he met on Earth and that was standing next to him. He wondered if you will ever know how much you shine.

“The best I’ve ever known”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” He said, not knowing what to do, how to comfort you and it pained him seeing you like that.

“It’s okay,” You mumbled, wiping your tears with the back of your hands “You weren’t the one that gave him a heart attack”

A few days ago you got the call that would change your life forever. You don’t remember much of it, only your mum crying on the other line and sobbing through her words.

“We lost him, baby. He’s gone”

It was the second time that time had stopped for you.

“That’s not the only thing I’m sorry for,” Calum said with a sigh. His hands were hidden in the pockets of his hoodie, this time he averted his gaze towards the sky, searching for forgiveness he knew he mightn’t have asked for.

You pressed your lips in a thin line and gazed down, shaking your head. This wasn’t happening “No.” You said, still shaking your head and drawing a few steps back.

“Y/N-” He pleaded, following you.

“No, Calum!” You yelled, “I said no, you can’t do this to me right now!”

“Okay, fine!” He said, running towards you with begging eyes, softly grabbing your hand in his “We don’t have to do this right now, but we have to do it eventually, Y/N. We can’t keep running from it or avoid it forever. I know it angers you as much as it angers me and we can both agree that I’m the one to blame. So, please…”

You pulled your hand away from him, breaking his heart with that harsh movement. You were looking at him, eyes filled with tears he didn’t deserve and an unshared rage that came with it. You felt how your chest moved up and down with every breath you forced yourself to make to stop your heart from thundering from inside you.

Calum’s eyes met yours and you could see the regret in them. Those brown orbs stared at you with such hope that you had to look away in order not to cave. Not today, not for him.

“Why?” You spat, walking over to him and pushing him as you talked. He did not move an inch, which made you even angrier. “Why now all of a sudden? Why not a few months back on the day you broke my heart? Why not a couple of weeks ago when I ran into Luke and asked about you, knowing that he would tell on me? Why not a few days ago when I reached out to Ashton to break the news that my father had died? Why not then? Why not earlier today at the funeral? Why now and not when I needed you, Calum?” You pushed and punched him in the chest with every word, crying at the same time you let your anger take over.

Calum let you take it out on him, not feeling anything as you punched him, he knew you didn’t want to hurt him, you could never. He grabbed you by the shoulders as you cried, sobs shaking through your body as you asked the why of many things.

Why did he have to die?

Why did you leave me?

Why did you come back?

Why did you make me love you?

“I know, I KNOW,” Calum said, getting a little fed up with himself for not being able to give you the answers that you needed “I know I wasn’t there when I was supposed to. I know I’ve been a total jerk for what I did and that I had no right in doing what I’m doing but, for the love of god Y/N, I wanted to be there today!”

“Then why weren’t you?!”

“Cause I was on a fucking plane!” He yelled, matching your tone.

Your eyes opened like saucers at his words “What?” You breathed.

Calum sighed and let go of you, running his hand through his face and hair. He didn’t mean to yell, but he was tired of everything, tired of keeping it inside when you were right there, looking at him like the monster he felt inside. He didn’t know if he could make it better if the image you had in your head of him could ever change, and he was scared, so scared that you’d hate him more than before. But he had to try, he had to. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he took the coward’s way again.

“I was back in Australia. I left a few months after the last time I saw you, knowing that I made the biggest mistake of my life. Nothing made sense anymore and I knew you didn’t want to see me after every bullshit answer I gave you. I just couldn’t stay here knowing that I hurt you, so I bought a ticket and went home to get my shit together as I promised, thinking that maybe I could leave you behind and forget about those feelings that made me realize how scared I was of them, but that never happened and I doubt it ever will. Then Ashton called me after you called him, telling me everything but I didn’t listen to the whole thing. I just heard that you were in pain and next thing I know I booked the first plane back to LA, back to you, but it got delayed so many times that I couldn’t be there on time, so the first thing I did was jump out of that plane and drive straight to you”

You clenched your jaw as you listened to him, trying to drown the knot in your throat. Your mind and heart screaming at you to listen and run, not knowing which one was right. Calum, however, continued as he watched your hesitant eyes.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, I tried my best to be because I knew you didn’t want to be alone, even when you say you do and I failed you, again” Calum’s eyes were honest, raw pain ran through them with every word he said “All I do is fail you, Y/N and I’m so tired of it. I failed to be honest with you, I failed to love you the way you deserve to be loved, I failed to be with you when you needed me most and I failed to keep my promise. I don’t want to fail you anymore, I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

These past few months without you, adding to the ones I spent on tour, were an absolute nightmare. So many times I wanted to call, to tell you that I loved you, that there was never somebody else but you, and that you are the only thing that’s felt real to me in so long. But I couldn't cope with the fear of you rejecting me, saying that you don’t want to see me again and with fair reasons.

I know I don’t deserve you, or any kind of forgiveness you could give, but I swear to you, Y/N, I want to be there for you. I will be there for you, always”

You cried, you wanted to believe him, you really did “This is so fucked” You said as you broke into sobs.

Calum walked over you and wrapped you in his arms, hiding your face in his chest as you let your tears fall “I know”

“How can I trust you, Calum?” You asked him “I feel like you are pulling me and pushing me to the ends of my rope and every time it’s getting shorter and shorter and-”

“Then we can tie more knots between us,” He said with a shaky voice “We can make it longer, and then I can meet you halfway. Or I’ll walk towards you at the end and we’ll jump together, hoping we’ll fall together as well. Y/N, I’m so tired of running from myself and I know you are as well”

“How do I know you are not lying to me?”

Calum took a deep breath, you couldn’t. Even he couldn’t know that, but he did know one thing:

“Every word that I said to you is true. I do love you, so much it hurt to the point of me being scared of it. It took me nothing to figure out that I could never love someone as much as I love you, but you’re right in not to trust me” He said and you let out a little gasp “I hurt you, and I can promise myself I won’t do it again but I can only promise you I will try. The future is unclear, my love, nobody knows when their last day on earth will be. It took me so long to understand that and it made me think that, if today was my last day, I would rather spend it with you. Always you. And I know that the world doesn’t spin around me or you or even us; but all I could do, all I want to do is spend my time with you, be with you and let it be just us for a while. For forever”

“Life is so much more than that”

“But we could hope”

And with the faintest whisper of your heart, you felt like that was enough for now. For you, it was enough.

You tighten your grip on Calum, holding each other closer as you let your tears dry on his hoodie. His hands softly caressing the back of your hand as he rejoiced in the feeling of having you close again. Just as long as you were there, Calum knew he had nothing to fear, not even himself. It was the peace you brought to each other, the one that never left, the comfort of your embrace, and the familiarity of your bodies; everything fit perfectly right where it was supposed to be. You were right where you’re supposed to be.

You stayed wrapped around each other for a while until your limbs felt numb and you knew it was time to get back. This time the road back home was silent, but not the deafening kind. Calum had his hand placed on your knee as he drove you back. Neither of you needed to say anything, it was already understood. Soon enough, you fell asleep at the sound of his humming.

To go back to where you left it was not going to be easy, you both knew that, but that’s the thing with trust and relationships: you build them as you go and it will take the time it needs. You both need to heal after the break, but as long as he’ll be in it for the long run, you will be as well.

You woke up when you felt a pair of arms wrapped around you as the smell of his cologne flooded your senses. You reached your house without noticing and now Calum was carrying you inside your home and into your bedroom as you cuddled closer to him, grabbing his hoodie with your fist.

“What time is it?” You asked in a sleepy voice.

“6 A.M,” He said and chuckled as you lifted your head to inspect your surroundings, not really believing it until you saw the faintest daylight covering your room, making you sigh.

Calum put you down in your bed and tucked you in, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead as he mumbled a goodbye. But before he could pull away, you tighten your grip on his hoodie, making him stop in his tracks and bringing him back down to you.

“What are you doing?” He asked with a chuckle, softly caressing the side of your face and silently promising to himself that he would do it right this time, not letting anything bad happen to you ever again.

“Hoping,” You said, pulling him again. This time he didn’t hesitate to pull the covers up and slide down next to you, wrapping you in his arms as you accommodated yourself in his chest. “You’ll be here when I wake up?” You asked softly.

And before you closed your eyes to sleep, you heard “I’ll never leave again”

“I'm here for you

When the world is falling down

I'll be with you

When your world is falling down”

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gooddaykate · 4 years

Text

You Already Mean the World to Me

Marcus Pike x Reader

Word Count: just under 8500

Tags: childhood best friends, pining idiots, King Arthur/Monty Python references, some cursing, roughly unedited terrible writing

A/N: It’s finally here! Again, absolutely would not have been finished without the constant support of my dearest @thedaysarenotfull. @hdlynn helped me talk through my roadblock. Let me know what you think!

You had been friends with Marcus Pike for as long as you could remember. You grew up together. You were toddlers together. You went to the same schools together. You fell in love with art together. You went to every gig his band had. He went to every art show of yours. You stood up as his “best man” in the wedding to his college sweetheart, and sat with him while he cried after she’d handed him the divorce paperwork.

You weren’t sure which broke your heart more.

You were certain that Marcus was the love of your life. He had just… never felt the same. And that was okay! You were perfectly fine loving him as much as you could. When he left a quiet but excited voicemail at three in the morning telling you that he met someone, you let all the love you held for him mold into the cracks in your heart.

Three months and many conversations about Teresa later, you got a call from him.

“Hey, Lance, I have news. Guess what.”

“Oh, it’s good you called, I’ve got news, too. Yours, though? I don’t know, Art. You’re finally moving to DC to come be with your best friend?” you asked sarcastically. The line was quiet for long enough that you took the phone off your ear to look and see if the call had dropped. “Marcus?”

“How did you know?” You could practically hear his furrowed brows.

“Wait, what?”

“How’d you know I’m moving to DC?”

“I was being facetious, you asshole. Are you serious? Are you really moving here? You’re not going to be halfway across the country anymore?”

“Nope. I got a promotion. I’ve got about a month left here in Dallas, and then I’m headed your way. I’m invincible!”

“You’re a loony,” you laughed, continuing the phrase you’ve said to each other since you were kids. “Oh my god, Marcus! That’s so incredible! I can’t wait to show you some of my favorite places. I mean, you haven’t even visited me here, Marcus, and I’ve been here for three years.”

“Yeah, I’m excited. It’ll be nice to be in the same city again, huh? Tell me your news, though.”

You laughed. “Forget city, just the prospect of even being in the same time zone is getting me excited. My news doesn’t really feel all that important, now. My show kind of took off and I had to get an agent. Now I’ve got three galleries wanting my paintings.” You knew Marcus couldn’t see you, but you shrugged anyway. “I’m not as excited by that anymore. Not when I’ll get to see you very soon. I can’t wait to have you here, oh my god. I’ve missed you so much, Art.”

“Hold the hell up, you mean to tell me that the first art show you’ve had your work in got so much traction that you needed to hire an agent? So you’re actually painting full time, now?”

“I guess when you put it that way, it does sound kind of important.”

Marcus let out a sarcastic laugh. “You freakin’ think? Man, I’m so proud of you, Lance!”

That brought a smile and heat to your face. “Thank you, Marcus,” you said quietly. “But yeah, painting full time. That triptych I did of the valley back home, remember that one?” Marcus hummed in affirmation. “That one sold for nine k. Three grand a panel, Marcus. I about crapped myself when Jenny told me how much the guy was offering.”

“That’s awesome. Did you ever meet the buyer so you could thank him in person?”

“Nah, he was some anonymous guy out of Texas somewhere. Apparently he grew up in the same general area we did. He told Jenny it reminded him of home. Enough about me, though! When will you be here officially? I’ll help you move in.”

“Three weeks. I don’t know the actual date, yet.” Marcus was quiet for a moment. “I, uh, I asked Teresa to come with me.”

In the euphoria of the galleries and having your best friend back, you’d forgotten about his potential plus one. “Oh! Oh, that’s… quick.”

He immediately jumped on the defensive. “It’s not like I demanded she go with me. She has a month to think about it. I’m going to talk to the director there and see if a place could be made for her, so she’d have a job to go to if she wants it.”

You tried to backpedal. “No, I know, Marcus. I know. It’s just,” you tried to find the words. “I don’t know, Art, you’ve been dating for three months. And I know you don’t want to hear it, bud, but I just… I just don’t think she’s all the way in like you are.”

“What?” he spat.

“From what you’ve told me I just-”

Marcus interrupted you. “Oh, that was rhetorical. You really don’t have to say it again.”

“Art, I’m sorry I just don’t think-”

The way Marcus said your first name stopped you in your tracks.

“If you can’t support me in this, then maybe I need to take a step back from our friendship.”

“Wait, Marcus, don’t you think that’s a little dramatic? I mean, I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. Art, you’ve gotta-”

“That’s enough. I’ll talk to you later.”

The line was quiet again, but you knew the line was dead this time.

“Bye, Art.” You sucked in a heavy breath and could feel your lower lip starting to quiver. “I love you.”

•

DC didn’t feel right. Marcus had moved with mostly excitement. He put a down payment on a house not far from headquarters. Teresa would be joining him today- he needed to leave to pick her up from the airport in about an hour, and then they’d start life as an engaged couple.

But Lance was missing.

It’d been almost five weeks since he’d spoken to her. He knew he’d been hasty and rude the last time they’d talked. He also knew she was just trying to help him protect his heart. But he didn’t need his heart protected. Lance didn’t know Teresa like he did. She’d see that when Teresa was finally here and they could meet. Everything was going to work out.

Marcus picked up his phone to call her for the hundredth time since moving to the same city she lived in. He missed her, and he knew it was his place to pick up the phone and apologize, but he just couldn’t.

A call from Teresa lit up his screen.

That’s odd, he thought. She should be on a plane right now.

•

The next five weeks passed slowly. The longest you’d ever gone without talking to Marcus was that one weekend when you were in high school and he went on a camping trip and didn’t have service.

This was slow torture, and you knew it was your fault. If you’d just kept your mouth shut and supported him like you had with Ashley, this wouldn’t have happened. It would have hurt you, but at least he’d still be around.

You knew he was in DC by now. Because of the way things were left, you didn’t even know if Teresa had decided to come with him, though you figured she’d be stupid not to. You had considered going to the fbi headquarters and asking for him, but then you thought better of it. The fbi probably wouldn’t appreciate some random person coming in and asking for an agent, and you didn’t really want to be detained. That probably wouldn’t win any points back in Marcus’ book.

Going to your studio was just depressing. Everything you painted was spoiled by your sadness. Your agent had laughed and called this your blue period. You just threw a pained smile her way with a nod and a shrug.

It was nearing the end of the sixth week without any contact from him, and you felt the Marcus sized hole in your heart. The other day, you ordered Indian takeout, and only when you were sitting on the couch with it on your lap did you realize that it was the malai kofta that he would usually get. That realization just served to make you cry and lose your appetite.

You were getting ready for bed when you heard a knock on your door. Thinking it was the sweet old woman from next door in need of some honey for her nightly tea again, you shrugged on your robe and swung the front door open with a smile.

But it wasn’t Miss Agnes.

Marcus’ eyes were rimmed red. He just stood there in your doorway looking at you. The sight of him brought you tears of both relief and concern. His chin wobbled and more tears sprung up in his eyes.

“Marcus, I’m so sorry. I never should have-”

He cut you off with a shake of his head. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m so sorry, Lance. I just didn’t want to hear it. I’ve missed you so much.”

You let go of the door to open your arms to him. He fell into your hug with a heavy sigh. You closed the door behind him and then just held him. You both had silent tears rolling down your faces.

Marcus mumbled something into your shoulder.

“What, sweetheart?” you whispered.

You could feel the wobble of his chin when he moved his face to answer. “You were right.”

“Oh, Marcus. I’m so sorry. That’s the last thing I wanted to be right about, hon. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t want to be the first to let go, so you just stood in your front hall holding him. After a few more minutes of tired silence, you moved your face from the crook of his neck so he would be able to hear you.

“Marcus, honey, why don’t we move to the living room? It’ll be more comfortable. And then maybe you can tell me about it? If you’re up for that. We’ve missed a lot the last month and a half.”

He stayed quiet and glued to you for just a bit longer, before mumbling a ‘yeah’ and letting go. You grabbed his hand and led him to the couch.

“Tea?”

Marcus grabbed one of the fluffy throw blankets you had folded in the basket by the couch. “Yeah. Please.”

Walking into the kitchen, you grabbed a chamomile mint blend from the shelf and spooned some of the loose leaf into a steeper. You squeezed a honey stick into each mug and waited for your electric kettle to come to a boil. When you got back to the living room, Marcus was sitting cross-legged on the couch with the blanket pulled over his head.

“You look kind of like a sad nun, Art.”

The corners of his mouth twitched up as he took a mug from you. You sat facing him on the other end of the couch and just waited. He’d tell you when he was ready.

“I had, uh,” Marcus cleared his throat. “I had asked her to marry me.”

Your eyebrows shot up, but you didn’t say anything. You just waited for him to continue.

“She had said yes. She said she’d move here with me and had agreed to marry me. I put a down payment on a house. I was so happy.”

“Did she change her mind?”

Marcus scoffed. “She didn’t just change her mind. She left me for Patrick Jane.”

“Wait, the asshole clairvoyant?”

Marcus rolled his eyes, but the ghost of a smile lit up his face. “Yes, the asshole clairvoyant. I guess she’s been in love with him for years and it just took the prospect of her being taken away for him to finally realize he wanted her.”

You put your hand on his blanket covered knee. “If that’s the kind of man she wants, then you’re better off, Marcus. She made it clear that she only wanted him to see what he’d lose without any regard for who she hurt in the process. I know it won’t fix anything, but I’m so sorry, Marcus. You didn’t deserve that.”

He looked over at you with more tears in his eyes. “What’s wrong with me, Lance? Why am I not wanted? What am I doing wrong?”

“Marcus Alexander Pike.” You reached out to your coffee table to set your mug down. When you looked back at him, his eyes were wide. “My best friend in the entire world. Sunshine of my life. My literal favorite person. There is nothing wrong with you, okay? Let’s pick this apart, shall we? Starting with Ashley. I can guarantee you’re not going to like this part of the conversation because I’m going to be blunt and say not nice things about people you’re too kind to stop caring about, but it needs to be said, okay?”

He nodded slowly and looked down at the mug still in his hands. You put your hand on his knee and nudged so he would know to turn and face you. When he got the memo, you nodded and continued.

“Marcus, what is your degree in?”

“Art history with a specialization in art conservation. But you know that.”

“I do. Did Ashley?”

“Well, I mean, I assume so, yes. We met in art history in undergrad.”

You blinked at him. “Marcus, why did you join the fbi?”

“Well, the job I had with the museum didn’t exactly pay a whole lot, and Ashley knew someone in the art recovery department that got me an appointment. And it pays a lot better, so…” he trailed off.

“So you gave up your dream job and safety for the sake of a higher paycheck?”

He scoffed. “Well, of course. There are just some things that you have to compromise on in a marriage. You’d know that if you ever let anyone close enough to try.”

You shot him a glare. “First off, we’re not talking about me, asshole. Uncalled for. Second, compromise, I get. But what did she compromise? Marcus, you gave up your dream job, friends, a town you loved all for a dangerous job because your wife said she wanted more disposable income to spend at Nordstrom?”

“I was happy to do all of that because we loved each other and she-”

“Marcus, Ashley cheated on you,” you interrupted.

“No she didn’t, Lance. And even if she did, I was just too overbearing. I pushed her away.”

You heaved out a sigh. “Okay, let’s look at the facts. I know you’ve kept tabs on her. How long after your divorce was final was she engaged to that Todd guy?”

“Tedd, actually, but three-ish months.”

“You cannot tell me that she wasn’t with that guy while y’all were still married. She was never someone to rush into things. I mean, you asked the girl three times to marry you, and she said ‘not yet’ the first two. So three months after she wasn’t Mrs. Pike anymore, she rushes into another marriage? You’re a smart man, Marcus. Use that big fbi brain to look at the facts.”

“Okay, sure. She cheated on me. But like I said, I’m the one who pushed her to that in the first place. I was too much. Overbearing, or whatever.”

“Don’t make me bring out your middle name again, sir. I’ll do it.”

Marcus just rolled his eyes.

“Roll reversal, Marcus. Let’s say you were married to a wonderful woman who gave you her all.”

He scoffed. You shushed him.

“No interruptions. Quiet. Let’s say this wife gets a new job because you didn’t think the one she loved paid enough to support you.” You held your hand up to silence the start of his protest. “Ah, ah. Theoretical, Art. Roll reversal, remember?”

His eyes rolled, but nodded for you to continue.

“So she gets a new job that puts her in danger on the daily. Still passion-adjacent, so she figures ‘at least she’s got that’. And then you meet some other woman at some country club you insist on having a membership to and you refuse to work like this is the freaking fifties because she’s the breadwinner and you’re the absolute worst.”

Marcus’ eyebrows had shot up. “Wow. You really didn’t like Ashley.”

“No, I didn’t. She was a shitty person and a worse wife. Stop interrupting.”

He shook his head. “You’ve made your point, Lance. She wasn’t right for me. I didn’t pick well there, either.”

You placed your hand on his knee again and gave a soft squeeze. “The point I’m trying to make, Marcus, is that you’re already worthy of love exactly as you are. You deserve someone who’s going to support you in everything, just like you’d do for them. You’re also allowed to feel used, Marcus. Ashley used you to get herself into a specific station so that she could live a charmed life. Teresa used you to show the man she actually wanted what he’d be missing. Neither of those relationship failures are your fault. You are the kindest man I know. You deserve to have your love returned tenfold. You more than anyone I know. It breaks my heart that you’ve had to deal with these horrible women.”

He gave you a sad smile. “Come on, Lance. They aren’t horrible.”

“Just because you choose to see the good in people, doesn’t mean I have to. And to be quite frank about it, if I ever see either of them, I will be throwing the first punch, I don’t give a damn. I’ll go to jail. I don’t care. They broke your heart, they can go through me.” You crossed your arms over your chest and mumbled, “Bitches.”

Marcus barked out a laugh and you smiled.

“And that’s why you’ll always be my Lancelot. I know you’ve got my back.”

Your smile dropped for a moment, but you plastered another on and placed your right fist over your heart. “Always, my king.” You dropped your hand and just sat smiling at each other, and for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, just playing a silly game.

“Alright, Art. I’ve got a hankering for pancakes, so I’m going to call Bob & Edith’s and order some. I swear, they’re the best here. I’ll go pick them up and then we can chow down, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan to me, Lance,” he said with a yawn.

You knew he wouldn’t be awake for much longer, so you decided to just hold off on the pancakes, but walked into the kitchen anyways. You busied yourself by cleaning out the tea steepers and dumping the water left over in the kettle.

“On second thought,” you called, “I know I’m tired. I’m sure you’re exhausted. So I think I’ll just hold off until we can go sit in together.”

When there wasn’t a response, you turned the sink off. “Marcus?”

You walked down the short hallway and came back into the living room to find that Marcus had fallen asleep on the sofa. His long legs were stretched out taking up all of the space, and he still had the blanket wrapped loosely around his head and shoulders. You grabbed another to drape over his body.

Standing above him, you gently ran your fingers through his hair. He let out a satisfied hum, but didn’t stir.

“There’s another thing that I didn’t say, Art,” you whispered. You didn’t have the courage to say it to him while he was awake, but you needed it said out loud. “Watching you pick these women who only want to break your heart is torture for me. I have loved you for so long, and they have just hurt you. I wish they could have seen you like I see you. You’re such an incredible man, Marcus. You’re so kind and selfless, and so, so handsome. You make me laugh. You indulge me in late night pancake runs. I just wish I would get the chance to show you the love that you deserve.”

Marcus shifted a bit, and you paused your hand working through the curls on his forehead. When he didn’t wake up, you continued. “I know I’m not who you want, though. It’s not ever going to be me. I’m okay with that, I promise. I will just keep quietly loving you because you’re the best man I know and you deserve it. Sweetheart, you are worth so much. I hope one day you can find someone who appreciates and loves you like I do. I really, truly hope so. You really are the sunshine of my life. You already mean the world to me. I love you, Marcus.”

You leaned down to place a soft kiss on his forehead and then turned to head back to your room.

When you woke up the next morning, Marcus had left, but he had written a note and put it on top of the folded blankets he had used.

Your neighbor came over to see if you could help move her new couch in. If you need me, I’m over at Agnes’.

Making your way over with a Tupperware of scones you had made, you heard Miss Agnes chatting Marcus’ ear off.

“It’s been so nice having that sweet girl next door. She always indulges my whimsy.”

Marcus laughed. “Mine, too, Agnes. For entirely too long. I’ve known her since we were two, ma’am. She’s had to put up with me for years.”

You knew if you walked in, you’d see her hand on his shoulder. “That’s certainly not the way she puts it, my dear boy. That girl is enamored with you. I’m glad to see you’ve finally come to your senses.”

There was a deep sigh. “I was wrong for not talking to her for so long. I was mad, but she’s my best friend, so that’s not an excuse.”

Miss Agnes’ chuckle was breathy and her chair creaked as she sat down in it. “It was like her heart had been ripped out for weeks. You can’t leave the love of your life stranded like that, young man.

“Love of- no, Agnes, I think you’ve got it wrong. Lance and I are- we’re just friends. We’ve been friends since we were kids. Friends. She’s not the l- we’re just friends.”

Rather than let Marcus flounder and also have him casually break your heart without knowing it again, you walked into the room. Marcus was sitting on the flowery print couch and Miss Agnes was sitting in her usual reclining chair across from him.

“Are you done with your interrogation, Miss Agnes? Can I have my friend back?”

“Oh, fine, sweet girl, but you need to promise me that you’ll be straight with this one.”

“I always am, Miss Agnes. I brought you some scones for your tea. I’ll leave them on the kitchen counter, okay?”

She gave you a pointed look. “Well I think he needs to know that-”

“Miss Agnes,” you gave her a small shake of your head. “Please.”

Her sharp eyes stayed on you and she raised her eyebrow, but didn’t say more.

Marcus looked between the two of you with furrowed brows. “Okay, well, it was good to meet you Agnes. I’ll probably see more of you, now that I listened to reason.”

“Not all reason, boy, but enough. Keep thinking about what I said. The both of you.”

With both of you back in your home, you turned back to him with a smirk. “So what had she talked to you about that she wanted you to think about?” you asked, as if you hadn’t had your heart stepped on by his response.

“Oh, uh. She was just under the impression that we were more than just friends. Or maybe that we should be. I don’t know what she was saying, for the most part. What was that look you two shared at the end there?”

You brushed it off with a shrug. “Oh, Miss Agnes just likes to tease me, that’s all.”

Marcus hummed like he didn’t fully believe you, but he didn’t push it.

“Well, I’ve got to go to the office today, so I’ll see you later?”

You smiled. “Of course, Art. Text me your address. I’ll bring you some dinner?”

Marcus reached over and pulled you into a hug. “That would be great. Thank you, Lance. For everything.”

“Of course, bud. Any time, you know that.”

With a wave, he was out the door.

•

The decision to take the undercover case in Dallas was not an easy one.

He knew it would be a relatively easy case, but the prospect of seeing both Teresa and Jane was… daunting, to say the least. Marcus was over his anger at Teresa. He still had the lingering sadness of the ‘what if’, but Lance had helped him see that she wasn’t right for him in the first place.

He’d been off since the night he’d apologized to her. He could tell that she knew something was up, but he also knew she wouldn’t say anything about it until he did.

The truth was, he’d been awake when she came back out to her living room that night. He hadn’t meant to deceive her like that, but he knew from experience that she would have been embarrassed if he’d given away that he was actually hearing what she was saying. And he couldn’t believe it. Lance? In love with him? It didn’t add up.

And that’s why he’d been off. He didn’t know where his head was at. He’d had a crush on her his freshman year of high school, but that was it. He’d never actually considered her as a romantic partner, and it was throwing him for a loop. How the hell was he supposed to say that he wasn’t interested in her. Did he even need to say anything at all? They’d gone this long as just friends, they’d be fine, right?

But more importantly, what if he was wrong, and she was exactly who he actually needed? What if the butterflies he felt every time he looked at her were real? Lance helped him slow down, helped him breathe. She was the eye of his storm, whenever he was out of control. She knew when to apply pressure and when to leave him alone. She’d been the person he turned to when he was at his most broken.

What if Agnes was right, and she was the love of his life?

All of that was running through his head as he bent over Teresa’s desk to leave her a note saying he was happy for her.

“Uh, excuse me, can I help you?”

Marcus stood with a sigh. “Jane.”

“Pike, hello.”

He turned toward Patrick and then shifted back again. “I was, uh, looking for Teresa.”

Jane came closer. “Yeah, I’m sure she’s uh,” he looked around the glass-walled office. “I’m sure she’s around here someplace.”

This is weird, Marcus thought. “Yeah, she probably is.”

“Beard looks good.”

“It’s for an undercover thing.” It felt like they were at the start of some measuring contest and all Marcus could think of was Lance’s voice saying ‘that asshole clairvoyant guy?’ He shifted his weight to the other leg and decided to hell with it. He wanted to know. “So it’s, uh,” he smiled at Patrick, trying to show he wasn’t angry. “You and her.”

Jane walked closer still. “Yeah,” he looked down and at least had the decency to look guilty. “I’m sorry, we didn’t intend for it to happen like this.” Jane took a breath and Marcus had to look away from him. “I know it was the last thing on her mind, the idea of hurting you.”

Marcus wanted to laugh, because he knew that wasn’t the case. Asshole clairvoyant rang in his head again. Jane couldn’t have given a care less, and Teresa’s goal was to show Jane what he’d miss.

“I know,” was his response instead. “I know that.”

Asshole clairvoyant. “So do you have a plan?” He crossed his arms and stepped away from Teresa’s desk.

Jane rolled his eyes and looked away. “I don’t really understand.”

Asshole clairvoyant. “Well, I was offering her a life, a home, a family if she wanted it. A future. Have you thought about any of that?” Marcus knew the answer was no, but he wanted to hear Jane say it.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.”

Marcus hummed and furrowed his brows in mock thought. “Well, what are you offering her? I mean, other than,” he gave Jane a once-over. “Patrick Jane?”

Marcus turned at the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Hey.” Teresa looked spooked, like this was the last place she wanted to be.

Jane looked up at him with a smug twist of his lips. “Excuse me.” He walked over into the hallway, far enough away that he wasn’t in the conversation, but close enough that he’d be able to hear it.

Asshole clairvoyant.

Marcus looked down at Teresa and sighed.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I was upstairs giving a deposition, and uh, thought I’d say hi,” Marcus looked away. “Stupid idea,” he said with a sad chuckle.

Teresa responded with a nervous chuckle of her own. “No, it’s fine.”

She still hadn’t actually looked him in the eye. He looked over at Jane and watched him angle his face away like he wasn’t listening in. “Anyway, it’s good to see you, Teresa.”

“You too, Marcus.”

“Jane.” Patrick nodded back at him.

That one tense conversation was all the closure he needed. Teresa was never his, Lance had been right about that. She had been right about a lot of things. The ‘what if’ brought the storm of butterflies back to his stomach. He walked out of the office with a smile. For maybe the first time in his life, he knew the next time he gave his heart away, it would be safe. He needed to have a conversation with his best friend.

•

Two months after ‘the absurdity’, as you and Marcus had taken to calling it, he had to go back to Dallas for some work thing. He had grown out his hair and beard, said it was some undercover job. You were a little worried for him, knowing he’d have to be back in the Dallas office with Teresa and that clairvoyant guy. He told you he’d be fine, and you hoped that was true.

You hadn’t left your studio in almost seventy-two hours, but the wall sized landscape you were working on was almost finished. Marcus still hadn’t been to your studio, and that was fine by you. You’d started a portrait of Marcus because Jenny had asked you to paint something personal to get back to “your emotional roots”. Whatever that meant. Marcus being out of town and not coming to your studio meant that the portrait could sit out undisturbed while you made slight changes to the oil paints.

Jenny knocked and let herself in. “Okay, love, how’re we doing?”

You stepped back from the landscape. “Done with this one. I’ll let it sit for a week or so, see if anything needs to be layered over after it’s dried, and then it can head to the gallery. What do you think?”

Jenny hummed as she looked up at it. “It's difficult to enter into this work because of how the disjunctive perturbation of the purity of line endangers the devious simplicity of the essentially transitional quality. With regard to the issue of content, the disjunctive perturbation of the spatial relationships brings within the realm of discourse the distinctive formal juxtapositions. I'm troubled by how the mechanical mark-making of the emotional signifier visually and conceptually activate the remarkable handling of light.”

You paused and took a steadying breath. “Jenny, what in the blue blazes are you talking about? You sound like you’re talking out of your ass. Would you have said all that bullshit to Bob Ross? It’s just some happy little trees and a majestic mountain.”

“As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have. But I’m not Bob Ross’ agent. I’m yours.”

You scoffed. “That doesn’t mean you can make up critique-y phrases. If it’s bad, just say it’s bad.”

“Oh, whatever.” She turned to the smaller piece to her left. “Is that portrait the one I asked you to do? The personal project?”

You tried to school your features so they wouldn’t soften too much at the sight of Marcus’ profile. “Indeed it is.”

Jenny looked at you with wide eyes. “Whoa, do you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?”

Your eyes snapped back to her. “No. Why would you think that?”

Jenny chuckled. “Well, if that reaction wasn’t enough, this is a pretty… striking portrait, babe.”

“I’ve just known him my whole life. That’s all that is, Jenny,” you said, still trying to deflect.

She hummed. “Then I may ask him out when I see him. He’s quite handsome.”

You swallowed and tried to collect yourself. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess he is. I could, uh,” the lump forming in your throat was making it difficult to speak. “I could introduce you, or whatever.”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. “Girl. Just tell me the goddamn truth.”

You threw your arms up. “What do you want me to say, Jen?! That I’m in love with my best friend and have been since the second grade when he climbed a tree to get my teddy that a big kid had stuffed up there? That no man will ever measure up to him because he’s everything I’ve ever wanted? That it kills me to think of him with someone who isn’t me, but also kills me to know that it’s my reality? That Marcus will never love me the way I love him because all I’ll ever be to him is his fucking Lancelot?!”

Your chest was heaving after yelling most of that at Jenny. A dry sob clawed its way out from your chest.

She uncrossed her arms and engulfed you in a hug. “Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. I was teasing, I didn’t think. I’m so sorry honey.”

Jenny patted your back and pulled away. “Why don’t you go home, hon? You haven’t showered. Have you even eaten anything?”

You looked away from her disapproving face. “Dry granola,” you said sheepishly.

“Girl. Go home. I’ll clean up here. Go get yourself cleaned up. Make yourself something to eat. I’ll be by in a couple hours to make sure you’ve actually taken care of yourself, okay?”

“Okay, Jenny. Thank you.”

“No worries, babe. Can’t have my star’s light dim, can I?”

•

Marcus pulled up to Lance’s studio with a stupid smile on his face. He wasn’t sure how this was going to go down, but he knew he needed to tell her he was in love with her. He’s not even sure when it started, only that hearing what she said and listening to Agnes made him realize what was in his own heart.

He pulled the door open to a quiet, well-lit room. The windows were large, so it lit everything in the most wonderful natural light. There was a massive landscape painting directly in front of him that was stunning. The mountain was towering over him like the real thing would, and the oranges of the autumn leaves were a beautiful contrast.

He heard footsteps behind him, but didn’t turn to face them. “You’re so talented, Lance.”

He looked around the studio, and his eyes landed on a portrait of himself. He couldn’t remember this ever being a picture that was taken. It was his profile, and he looked a little sad. He’d never cared for his nose, always thought it was too prominent and made him look like a bad guy, but she’d taken so much care in painting it. He could see the emotion in his painted eyes.

“When did you know you loved me?” he asked quietly.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever known, because I don’t actually know who you are.”

Marcus startled at the voice that was definitely not his best friend. He turned quickly to find a small Asian woman looking at him with bright amusement.

“Sorry, I, uh. Who are you?”

The woman laughed. “I’m her agent, Jenny. I sent your Lancelot home about an hour ago. She’d been here for three days straight with only dry granola in her system.”

“That sounds like her,” he sighed. He held his hand out. “Marcus, by the way.”

Jenny shook his hand and smiled. “Oh, I’m well aware.” She gestured to the portrait. “I wanted her to paint something personal. She’s been in her own head a lot recently, hasn’t tapped into the emotion she usually uses to paint. It’s in that one, though, don’t you think?”

Marcus looked over at it again. He’d never really considered himself a very handsome man, but he certainly felt it right now. The way she had captured his likeness… “For sure. She’s a brilliant artist.”

“And she loves you a great deal.”

Butterflies erupted in his stomach again. “It was nice to meet you, Jenny, but I have to go.”

She just smiled and waved him out the door. “Make sure she actually eats something.”

•

After you’d gotten home, you decided self care was actually in order. You washed your face and put one of those weird face masks on. You poured a glass of sweet red wine and sank down into a hot bath filled with a de-stress bath bomb Jenny had given you. You turned on your audiobook of Pride and Prejudice and settled in.

About an hour and a half later, the Bennets were talking to Mr. Collins about Rosings Park when you heard a noise in your kitchen. Assuming it was Jenny coming to check on you, you unplugged the bath and toweled off.

With your hair stuffed in a cotton t-shirt and your robe secured around your middle, you stepped out into the hall.

“Sorry for my meltdown over Marcus earlier, Jen. It’s been a particularly rough season in our friendship. And I think he knows, now, that I’m in love with him, because-”

You rounded the corner and stopped short.

“Well, if he didn’t, he does now,” Marcus joked.

You felt the dread settle on your lungs like smoke you’d inhaled. Your eyes closed. “Oh, god,” you whispered. “What’re you,” you swallowed hard and fought the bile rising in your chest from the amount of dread you felt. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were going to be in Dallas for another three days.”

You couldn’t see it, but you could hear the smile in Marcus’ voice. “They didn’t need me anymore. Got done early. I stopped to see your studio. Met Jenny. She said you hadn’t eaten anything, so I let myself in to make you dinner.”

You rubbed a hand over your face, and still hadn’t opened your eyes to look at him. “That’s nice of you, Marcus. Unnecessary, but nice, thank you.”

“When did you know?” he asked quietly.

“Know what?”

You could hear the smile in his voice again. “That you were in love with me?”

Your eyes snapped open and fell on a shit-eating grin. “There’s no need to be cruel. I will smack you across the face, Marcus, I’m not even kidding.”

He said your name and reached up, but you took a step back so he couldn’t touch you. His brows furrowed and his hand dropped. “It’s a serious question. Please indulge me?”

You shook your head and turned away, feeling the beginning of tears fill your eyes.

Marcus cleared his throat. You could hear the scraping of a wooden spoon in a pan. “The first time I realized that I am fully, truly and completely in love with you, I was standing in the office of the fbi’s special crimes unit in Dallas having a conversation with the man who took a woman I now know never actually loved me away.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“But I think what really got me thinking about it was knowing that my best friend has harbored feelings for me for, seemingly, a long time, and even though it must’ve broken her heart, she was always there when I needed her.”

You turned to face him again. He looked into your eyes and gave a small smile. “The truth is, I think I’ve been in love with you for a lot longer than I have even realized. You’re everyone’s comparison. Even Ashley, thinking back on it. You’ve always been it, Lance. It just took me a while to see it. I’m sorry.”

You let out the breath you’d been holding and brought the heels of your palms up to your eyes. “This isn’t some type of sick, joke, is it? I’ve never known you to be cruel, Marcus, so don’t start now. Please.”

He took a step closer and gingerly took your forearms in his hands. When you moved your hands away from your face, he dropped your arms and brought his hands up to your face to brush the tears away.

Marcus whispered your name and tenderly stroked your cheek. “Agnes was right. You are the love of my life. I’m so sorry it took me so long to figure that out, sweetheart.”

“You have to be serious about this, Marcus,” you whispered back. “You’re it for me, and if you decide you don’t actually want me, it’ll break me. I won’t recover, and neither will our friendship. So I have to know you’re sure.”

The slow smile he gave you was filled with reverence. “What do you want me to say so you’ll know that I’m serious?”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. “I don’t know, Marcus.”

He let out a soft sigh. “How about this?” He took your hands in his and stepped closer. Marcus whispered your full name as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. “We’ll go at your pace, sweetheart. I know you’re skeptical that this is real for me, so we’ll go as slow as you need. I’ll wait for however long it takes for you to trust this. I trust you. I know you’ll keep my heart safe. And I’ll do my very best to reassure you that I’ll keep yours safe, too.”

Marcus tilted his head to leave a soft kiss on your forehead.

“So, my dear, sweet, wonderful, beautiful, lovely friend,” he pulled back to look in your eyes. “Can I take you on a date and get to know you?”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but him asking to get to know you definitely wasn’t it. You chuckled. “Get to know me? Marcus, you’ve known me since I was three years old. What else is there for you to know?”

He grinned and glanced down at your lips. When he looked back up, he lifted his eyebrows, asking silent permission.

With your slight nod, he leaned closer. “There’s so much to learn, Lance. What makes you smile,” he tilted your chin up and kissed below your ear. You let out a soft whimper and he smiled. “What inspires you,” he kissed the underside of your jaw. “What makes you feel like the most important girl in the world,” he moved up to kiss the tip of your nose. “What makes you cry,” he kissed your forehead. “How I got lucky enough to have a woman as wonderful as you love me.”

Marcus paused long enough for you to open your eyes to look into the deep brown of his. “How to make your knees weak.” He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone and whispered, “How to kiss you properly.”

He looked back down at your lips and waited. You knew he wanted to give you the time to pull away if you weren’t ready to take that step. You had waited so long to kiss him, though. You had wanted it for so long that you were a little afraid that if you didn’t kiss him, you’d never have the chance again.

He glanced back at your eyes and smiled. Just as he moved to give you space, you closed that distance. Your lips met his with an almost desperate passion. You brought your hands up to cradle his face, and he moved his around your torso to pull you closer. He brushed his tongue against your bottom lip and you let him in.

The two of you stayed like that until the oven timer went off, startling you into separating. Marcus rested his forehead against yours again.

“Dinner’s ready,” he laughed.

You chuckled and let go of him to grab dishes, but he tightened his hold. “I love you,” he said, looking into your eyes. “I love you, and I will wait as long as you need me to. You already mean the world to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat again at his reuse of the words you said to what you thought was a sleeping Marcus two months ago. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek and turned back around to turn off the timer and pull whatever he made out of the oven.

“So is this what I can expect for my relationship with Marcus Pike?”

He looked at you with a small smirk on his face. “A relationship, huh? I thought I’d have to take you on a date, first.”

The heat in your face was immediate. You’ve loved him since you were seven, of course you wanted a relationship with him. But he was right, there was no need to rush this.

“Well, a date would be nice, I guess.”

Marcus’ smile softened. “I’m just teasing you, Lance. I plan on romancing the hell out of you for as long as you’ll let me.”

“You’re a loony.”

He set the baking dish on a hot pad and turned to mime drawing a sword. “The black knight always triumphs.”

You hummed and matched his smile. “The only time you ever let me be King Arthur was when he faced the black knight. Did you just like having me pretend to cut all of your limbs off?”

Marcus chuckled and a light blush spread across his cheeks. “It always made you laugh. So yeah, I guess.”

“That’s it, right there.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“That’s how I fell in love with you. Those little things. You gave up playing your favorite character just because you knew it would make me laugh.”

He blushed deeper and looked bashful.

“I’d follow you anywhere, Marcus.”

“You won’t have to. Because whatever happens, it’ll be together.”

Together.

You liked the sound of that.

•

Everything was planned out. The two of you had gone to Bob and Edith’s for breakfast pancakes in the morning, you’d gone to the Smithsonian to see the O’Keefe exhibit they’d just brought in, and then you decided you’d have a little fun with it and go to a wine and painting class together, completely ironically. You’d secretly flown both of your parents in, and his sisters decided they wanted to be there, so they came in, too. The wine and painting would be just the two of you, and then they’d all come in and be there for the big question itself.

What you weren’t ready for was the instructor to recognize you, and ask you to lead the staff and Marcus in a painting.

“Well, this is really just something fun for my boyfriend and I to do together, I’d rather-”

Marcus put his hand on your shoulder and drew your attention to him. “How often does an opportunity like this come around? It’ll be fun, Lance.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. Damn him for being able to talk you into anything. That’s how two dogs and a cat had found a home in your shared townhouse. “Okay.”

The instructor squealed and rushed to hug you. “Oh my god, this is going to be great! Can we do a mini version of that mountain in autumn one you did last year? Please?” Her please was drawn out long like she was a kid asking for ice cream.

“Yeah, that’s fine, I guess.”

“This is going to be amazing! Okay, I’ll set everything up, you don’t have to do a thing except walk us through your process.”

Marcus ran his hands down your arms. “I know it’s not ideal, but you’re giving them such a cool experience. How often do they get to have such a legitimately professional painter show them how they work?”

“That’s not- I mean, sure, but there was a plan, and it’s getting messed up, and-”

“Breathe, baby. It’s just a silly date night. We’ll have many more, my love.”

You glanced over his shoulder and saw your family silently filing into the shop. The panic you felt suddenly multiplied.

“Why are you so upset about plans changing? You’re usually okay with a bit more of a go with the flow date.”

The instructor came out from the back room and looked past the two of you. “Oh, I’m sorry, this is a private party.”

Marcus turned to look at who they were talking to.

“Mom? Dad? What are all of you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but...”

Your dad nodded for him to look behind him, and when he turned, you were already knelt down.

“I have loved you since I was seven years old when you climbed the tree at the park to get my teddy that Blake Jones had thrown up there down. I loved you while you loved someone else, twice,” you winked at him. He had tears gathering in his eyes. “I will love you for as long as I’m breathing, and I’m sure long after that, too. You already mean the world to me. And I figure it’s about time you’re the one getting romanced. So, Marcus Alexander Pike,” you opened the black velvet box to reveal a simple platinum band, “Will you marry me?”

He looked up at the ceiling and chuckled as a tear fell. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Your family and the staff cheered as he pulled you up from the floor. “I love you.”

You took his hand and slid the ring on his finger. “I love you, too, Marcus. With everything I have in me.”

And as he leaned in to kiss you, you knew your heart was full. That this man was everything you’d ever wanted, and you knew he wanted you right back.

TAGS: @seasonschange-butpeopledont @plexflexico @din-damn-djarin @dirty-dancefl00r5 @cinewhore @aplaceofpeace @just--a--snail @thecrystalgempearl @mrschiltoncat @campamcam @littlevodika @keeper0fthestars @greengrassandcyansea @uncomicalhumour @agentpike @yespolkadotkitty @chaotic-noceur

#marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction

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bffsoobin · 4 years

Text

Just One Day

↳ being the extraordinary Choi Yeonjun’s ordinary ex girlfriend had begun to feel like nothing more than a fun fact the longer you two had been apart. He had gone to Korea to chase his dream, and you had all but forgotten about the way he made you feel. When Yeonjun calls and explains he’ll be back for a day, do you go for it?

➤ fluff, angst, smut, idol!yeonjun x ex girlfriend!reader

Word count: 5,313

Requested?: yes

Warnings: This includes (badly written) mature content! Please do not read between the illustrated borders if you’re under 18 or uncomfortable! Smut warnings include: unprotected sex (don’t do it!), some dirty talk, slight male masturbation. General warnings include:swearing, awkwardness, slight pining, self doubt, mentions of crying/heartbreak, Yeonjun is a sly little shit, Feelings, me not editing or proof reading, me not keeping a very good time line for the story (how long ago did they date? How long were they together? What era are txt in when this story takes place? I didn’t bother to specify so feel free to let your mind run wild)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

It felt weird seeing the Snapchat memory pop up. A younger you smiled back through the screen, hair messy from the wind. Even weirder is the sight of a younger Choi Yeonjun, cheek pressed right against yours and a wide smile taking over his face. You hadn’t forgotten him, there was no way you could, but you had certainly forgotten this day. This date. The two of you had spent the day at an amusement park, skin turning red under the sun as you rode every attraction the park had to offer. As you clicked through the memory, you found a video you took of him dancing next to the picnic table the two of you ate overpriced fries and pizza on. The sound of your own laugh made you smile. You had really been so happy. So many happy memories with Yeonjun cropped up in your mind. All of the movie nights, walks along the lake, lunches and mini golf dates flooded you.

With the happy memories also came the hurt. The countdown to the day he had to leave for Korea, knowing nothing would ever be the same again. You had blocked out so many bad things, but one you could never forget was the night before he left. Since he was leaving so early in the morning, you had come to sleep over so you could be sure not to miss saying goodbye. As the night fell, you clutched onto his shirt and begged him not to forget you. It was pathetic how much you sniffled and sobbed into the thin fabric and pleaded with any entity listening to keep Yeonjun in your life. He had cried too, although you never noticed. The sound of your sobbing consumed his senses as the two of you laid down in his bed and he knew he could do nothing but hold you until you fell asleep. When the heaving and shaking stopped, he looked down on your swollen, tear streaked face and began shaking with his own silent sobs. He loved you. You loved him. But that love wasn’t enough to keep the two of you together in the way you wished. Yeonjun didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he watched you sleep and pretended everything was okay. Pretended he wasn’t leaving you behind minutes after sunrise.

That night is one of your very worst memories. You threw your phone to the side, rubbing your hands over your face to reduce some of the weight laying on your shoulders. A hot shower was definitely in order to relieve some tension in your muscles.

Your worries washed down the drain with the scalding water. With a clearer mind you were able to push the sad memories of years past back to the dark corner of your mind where you left them originally. The rest of your day was normal, save for the fact that you felt as if the selfie of you and Yeonjun you had seen earlier was permanently tattooed behind your eyelids. At every spare moment you had you were thinking of him. The Yeonjun you had fallen in love with way before he had millions of other people following his every move. You had neglected to keep up with his actions many months ago when you decided that there was no point in mulling over a guy who would never come back to you.

And given the general lack of interest of kpop harbored by your family and friends; it wasn’t hard for you to reduce Yeonjun to nothing more than a boyfriend who had to move far away. Most of the people in your life now didn’t even know about the years old relationship, anyway. You had decided it was much better that way.

Your day was boring, to be totally honest. You had dedicated the day to cleaning, but your small apartment needed less attention than you originally thought. By 6:30pm, you had already made and eaten dinner and started yourself on a marathon of Hunger Games movies. Right in the middle of Katniss’ adventures in the 74th games; your phone began to vibrate against your thigh with a phone call. The number came up as unknown, and you didn’t recognize the area code as a local one so you let the call drop. Katniss was mourning the death of Rue when your phone vibrated again. This time you saw a voicemail from the mystery number. You were confused. A little bit annoyed at the intrusion, but mostly really confused. Usually scam callers didn’t leave messages, and everyone else that was important to your life was in your phone as a contact.

What the hell, you thought. Just listen to the voicemail and see who it's from, you can always delete the message and block the number later. Disregarding Katniss’ heavy breathing, you clicked on the notification and pressed your phone to your ear. There were a few seconds of silence and some shuffling that made you think it was an accidental butt dial to a very wrong number until a clear voice broke through.

“Hey, Y/N. I know this is super weird but-“ you dropped your phone out of your hand as if it had bitten you. You knew that voice. Yeonjun. What the fuck? With your phone left forgotten on the couch you nervously walked around your apartment. What did he want? How did he get your number? Why was he calling you?

After some self convincing and a cold glass of water, you decided you would get all your answers if you’d just finish listening to the damn voicemail. This time, you listened closer and in the silence of the beginning you could hear some faint Korean that made your blood run cold. This was for real. Yeonjun’s voice crackled through the phone again.

“I’m, uh, in the US right now. LA, actually. We just landed like an hour ago and I though of you- is that weird?” He cleared his throat, “I have a day off tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d want to meet up? If you don’t, it’s okay.” A heavy sigh and some more shouting of Korean in the back. “But if you do, we can meet at 10am at that breakfast place you like? I looked it up, the one between the library and the corner market we used to go to? Okay. That’s it. Um, bye.” Even after the end of the message you kept your phone pressed to your ear, in total disbelief of what you’d just heard.

Numbly, you unpaused the movie although none of the horrors of the Games stirred you like normal. The only thing you could focus on was whether or not you should go meet Yeonjun in the morning. What did you have to lose? Other than a little pride if he stood you up or something of the sort, you couldn’t think of much. You could easily catch an Uber there in the morning. But would it be weird? You knew the other members would be with him, but how much did they know? Your nerves made you queasy. The option of not going at all seemed more and more appealing with every passing moment.

You played the movie again, watching but not processing any of the presented images. You wanted to talk this out with someone, but no one really knew about your time with Yeonjun and the situation was way too far fetched to be boiled down to hypotheticals for a friend. Twenty minutes must have passed with you mulling every little detail over in your head. The movie had ended without your knowledge but it didn’t matter anyway. You were already in your bedroom, computer open to YouTube. Skimming your fingers over the keys, you gave the universe time to stop you. To make someone knock on your door, or your mom to call you, or for the power to go out; but nothing of the sort happened. You typed in “tomorrow x together” and shut your eyes as if it would change anything.

Pages of videos- both official and fan made beckoned you down a dangerous rabbit hole. One where you began to miss Yeonjun all over again. He had grown a lot since the last time you had seen him. He was taller, broader. HIs jaw was much more defined and he had taken to wearing jewelry all the time. Side effects of becoming an idol, you supposed. None of those details hurt more than the fact that his personality seemed unchanged. Amplified, yes; but he was still the same goofy, clingy and heartfelt boy you had fallen in love with years ago. You watched the way he interacted with the other members and you felt your heart swell with joy. Some small part of you was worried that pressure and fame would change him but you were amazed to see that was not the case.

Autoplay took it upon itself to load up the next video for you. You felt oddly warm at the idea of seeing even more content; this time through the lense of an adoring fan. A title flashed across the screen in a handwritten font: “Best of Choi Yeonjun”. Edited video clips of him singing, dancing and playing around with the other group members flashed before your eyes. You couldn’t help but lull yourself into a state of comfort upon seeing and hearing him so much. In the back of your mind, you knew you had already silently decided on meeting him tomorrow. You closed your laptop with a renewed excitement before you began to get ready for bed.

When you woke up there was still an hour before your alarm was even set to go off. Despite the early hour you were wide awake as if your nerves had been connected to a live wire pumping electricity through you. There was no grogginess in your eyes, and if it wasn’t for the jumble of nerves in your gut you could have believed you were going to have a perfect day. Your mind stalled at the reality of facing Yeonjun in just mere hours. You think you dreamed about him last night; in some weird, hazy fashion where you can’t remember much other than his presence. Vague details swarmed through your mind throughout the entire duration of your morning routine. Even though you had just showered the night before, you took another one to pass the extra time and take the opportunity to shave as well as you could in the dim light of your bathroom. You were oddly aware of just how quickly your heart was beating through the whole process. The drumming sound in your ears became second nature by the time you stood in front of your closet.

Suddenly, the extra hour your body had subconsciously given you became a blessing as you decided that you had absolutely nothing to wear. The outfit you had planned during your shower looked much worse in real life than you ever would have thought. It was almost as if the open drawers were mocking you, laughing about the fact that you were so nervous about meeting Yeonjun again that you couldn’t even pick out an outfit. You shuffled through all of your hangers multiple times, slipped different dresses and pairs of jeans on until you settled on something that you decided would be good enough- especially with the time of 9:10 am glaring back at you. With the consideration of morning traffic, you needed to be out of your apartment as soon as you possibly could. It was sort of embarrassing how sweaty your palms were as you locked up your apartment door and requested an Uber. Luckily your driver came so fast that you didn’t really have time to dwell on just what you were about to do. Even the ride there gave you no time to overthink, as your friendly driver made polite conversation that you felt bad for slacking on.

You stepped out onto the sidewalk after stalling for as long as you possibly could. The breakfast spot was surprisingly unpopulated compared to the rest of the stores, but just as quaint and adorable as you always remembered. Yeonjun used to live over this way so the two of you frequented the family owned restaurant so much that all of the servers knew your order. Your heart felt as if it was permanently stuck in your throat with the knowledge that Yeonjun was just steps away from you. A few bystanders eyed you suspiciously as you tried to work up the courage to enter the building. Fuck it, you thought. There was no way to avoid this any longer.

The hostess working the front stand seemed to notice your nervous disposition. “Can I help you? Just one?” Suddenly the back of your neck felt warm under her questioning.

“Uhm actually, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.” The hostess nodded politely.

“Oh, can I ask your name? A man here said he was waiting for a girl to come meet him,” she shuffled a menu around on her podium.

“I’m Y/N,’ you supplied meekly. The hostess’ face lit up as she waved to you to follow her further into the restaurant. The layout was familiar even though the decor had evolved over the last few years. At a corner booth sat Yeonjun with his fluffy hair, intently examining the menu as you approached. The hostess announced your arrival and left in the blink of an eye.

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, totally caught off guard by the sight of him actually in front of you. He rushed out of the booth seat and immediately squished you into a tight hug.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, pulling back to examine you once again before you both sat down on the vinyl seats. “I don’t know what to say, I-” he rubbed his hands over his face, “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.” You just stared at him for a second, waiting for the cogs in your brain to start up again.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to come either. But I’m glad I did. I just saw old pictures of us from when we were dating.” It felt so foreign to hear that phrase coming out of your mouth that you almost flinched. Yeonjun’s face softened and he opened his mouth to speak just as your waiter sidled up to the table. He took your orders, and you couldn’t help but realize that you had both ordered your regulars from years ago. Yeonjun picked at his nailbeds for a second. There was so much to talk about that your mind could not settle on a single thing.

“I just wanted to say,” Yeonjun’s voice startled you, “that I’ve missed you a lot. I feel awful about the way we left it, and as soon as I heard we were coming back to the US I had to try and make time to meet you. Unfortunately I only have this one day off so I was hoping you would want to see me too,” he couldn’t contain the smile that grew on his face; the one that hadn’t changed since the last time you ever saw him.

“Of course I wanted to see you, Junnie,” the nickname was automatic and made him crinkle his eyes up happily, “I’ve missed you too.”

It was almost unbelievable how easy it was to fall back into conversation with him. The food was just as good as you always remembered, but it paled totally in comparison to the colorful stories the two of you traded. His were-of course- much more riveting and star studded than yours could ever hope to be. He told you tales of everything from his friends to his late nights practicing, to all of the places he had traveled since going into the company. All you had to offer were some stories of your adventures with family and friends but Yeonjun still listened with rapt attention. The flow of conversation was just as easy as you always remembered it to be. Even through mouthfuls of your breakfast you were having a better time with Yeonjun than you had with anyone else in months.

The waiter came to clear your plates during a natural lull in your conversation and suddenly the magical spell casted on the two of you seemed to lift. Yeonjun’s face was flushed red and you became extremely interested in your cuticles.

“I’ll pay for our food,” he reached for the check that had been placed face down on the table as you scoffed.

“No, I can pay for myself, it’s fine,” you held your hand out expectantly but he never handed over the receipt. Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed.

“No, absolutely not. I’m the one who asked you to meet me here out of the blue after not seeing you for years. And it’s just one day that I’m here. The very least I can do is pay for your meal, Y/N. Don’t you remember what it’s like to have a guy treating you?” He waved down the waiter and handed over the check along with a credit card.

“Well to be fair, I haven’t really had a guy ‘treat me’ in a while,” you grumbled at him, “but that’s an unfair way to guilt me into letting you buy my food.” You were pouting now, you knew. Yeonjun cooed at your change in behavior.

“Too bad. I want to be your complimentary boyfriend for the day. So I’m paying. And you get to pick the next place we go.” There was no way you could argue with him although the thought of him being your “boyfriend” again made your brain set off alarms.

“Okay, Junnie. Just remember you dug your own grave.”

Following breakfast, you drug him into your favorite boutique where the two of you had your own coming of age movie style try on in the dressing rooms. You hated to admit just how well Yeonjun had pulled off every single outfit he put on. Even the bright green button up and cheetah print bucket hat you had picked as a joke looked amazing on him. It was hard to miss the way he had bulked up, arms bulging against the fabric of the shirt as he twisted around in front of the mirror to admire himself. Mentally you slapped yourself. No drooling allowed, Y/N. This was no longer the Yeonjun who was your first love. This Yeonjun was famous and in the eyes of the public, living halfway across the world. There was no way he still thought about you the same way you thought of him.

He had noticed your lapse in behavior and chalked it up to him actually enjoying your prank outfits.

“Awe, it’s okay Y/N. We can go to Goodwill and you can find me something really awful to try on. I promise I’ll look hideous,” he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and guided you towards the cashier with a grin so he could buy the last two items you ever thought he would enjoy. You pushed through your slowly souring mood to dutifully follow Yeonjun to another small shop nearby. Your thoughts were beginning to wander farther and farther until you completely tuned his voice out of your head. A hand ruffling up your hair ended your daydreaming. You grabbed Yeonjun’s hand and yanked it away.

“Leave me alone,” your tone was flatter than you wanted him to hear. His face instantly crumpled in confusion before turning serious. You could tell he wanted to say something to you but the atmosphere of the store was just not right. Pop music was piped through the speakers and you could hear the faint hum of the workers talking to one another. Without another word, Yeonjun guided you out of the store and back out to the front of the store.

“I think we should talk in private. Would you feel comfortable if we went back to your apartment?” Your heart swelled at his consideration of your comfort.

Just one slightly awkward Uber ride later, you were letting Yeonjun into your apartment. Suddenly you were worried about the fact that your bed wasn’t made and that you hadn’t dusted in way too long. Of course he didn’t notice, but as he sat down on your couch you couldn’t help but remember the pizza sauce stain on one of the cushions that you had hidden with a well placed throw pillow.

“C’mon, sit down. This is your home and you’re acting more awkward than I am,” he patted the cushion beside him but you chose to leave an intentional space between you, intimidated by the way he spread his legs out in front of him. “What happened?” His voice was soft and gentle, just the way you remember it from all your late nights and early mornings together.

You sighed. “It’s just weird. You being here, I mean. Before, I just saw you as a boy like the same way I was just a girl. Now I’m still just a girl but you’re,” you struggled for the words, “now you’re an it boy. But you still had my number in your phone. You still chose to use your day off to walk around with me! I guess I just don’t know why.” He was silent, watching you with slightly pouted lips and wide eyes.

“Oh,” your eyes crinkled in shock. Oh? That’s all he had to say? Before you had time to fume, he continued; “I thought it was pretty obvious. I still like you. A ton. Leaving you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. You’ve never been just a girl to me, Y/N. I chose to come see you on my day off because I couldn’t bare the thought of being in your city with free time and not at least trying to make you understand.” You could feel yourself shrinking under his intense gaze.

“Understand what?” you whispered. He leaned closer, eliminating the gap you had created between the two of you. Just inches from your face, you could clearly see the way his sparkling eyes shifted between your own eyes and your lips several times. You knew he was giving you an out. Time to back away and tell him no. But you didn’t want an out. His lips were chapped but just as full as you had always remembered them to be. The first kiss was short and sweet, just a little testing peck as the initial spark lit a larger, raging fire inside of you.

He wasted no time going in for a second kiss, this one much longer and slower and very reminiscent of what you used to share with him. It felt as if he was pulling all of the air from your lungs and replacing it with his own. You felt your dormant feelings leak from the inside out in such a rush that you had to push him away from you. Chest heaving, you laid your head against the solid muscle of his chest. Your eyes burned with unshed tears and all of the thoughts you desperately wanted to spill. Yeonjun stroked your hair and said nothing as you quietly collected yourself.

“It’s been so long. How do you still make me want you so bad?” Yeonjun laughed in a tone that bordered on remorseful.

“Guess I’m magic,” his lips descended on yours again, this time much needier as his hands began to roam all over your body. He kept a strong grip on your hips before sliding a hand up the front of your shirt. You gasped at the feeling.

“Are you okay? I can stop if-“ you shook your head rapidly and wrapped your hand around his wrist to guide him farther up your shirt, resting over your bra.

“I’m fine, please touch me.” He pushed you down against your couch and pressed his weight between your spread legs. Every part of you was on edge, hyper aware of every single movement that Yeonjun made. Mouthing at your neck, using both hands to squeeze at your breasts, the subtle rock of his hips against your center. Jolts of pleasure wracked through you.

“You’re so beautiful. So much more perfect than I even remembered,” Yeonjun stripped your shirt over your head and traced his fingers down your sides. You shivered as he worked his hands behind your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. You couldn’t help but snort at the scrunched up face of concentration that melted away his dominant facade.

“Need some help?” Trying to bite back your laughter only worked for so long before you turned into a giggly mess under him. He tipped his head back and let out a whine that made your stomach stir in arousal given your situation.

“Don’t laugh, it’s been a long time,” his voice was thicker, deeper than it had been for the rest of the day and only served as a reminder of the tell tale bulge pressed against your inner thigh. Unclasping your own bra was a breeze, but you allowed Yeonjun the pleasure of actually pulling it away from your body. Before you had time to cover yourself up, the boy above you was diving down to press kisses on each breast, paying special attention to your nipples until you were squirming uncontrollably under his weight. He got the message and made short work of your jeans and panties.

“Hold on,” he groaned at the sight of you while he struggled to get off of the couch and strip himself down as quick as possible. He had no shame, and the way you were laying gave you a perfect view of all of the exposed skin. His well built arms and torso flexed underneath his virtually flawless skin. He shucked off his jeans and boxers in one go before eagerly climbing back on top of you. You were at a loss for words at the sight of his body but luckily Yeonjun didn’t mind your silence. He used it to his advantage as he rubbed circles into the meat of your thighs teasingly.

“Jun,” your hips canted upwards and caught on the head of his cock, “please.” You stuck out your bottom lip in a pout and that seemed to break his resolve instantly.

“Okay, fuck. I can’t resist you anymore princess,” he grunted his understanding and weaved his fingers through yours on either side of your head. Slowly, he pushed into you. He bit back moans the whole time, occasionally rocking his hips against you to stimulate your clit as well as he could. Your back arched off of the couch; neck bent at an awkward angle although it was the least of your worries as Yeonjun’s cock was fully sheathed inside of you. Your body was in overdrive; impossibly warm and sensitive even at the smallest roll of his hips.

Instantly you were a needy mess and could only focus on the feeling of Yeonjun’s skin against yours. His name fell from your lips like a prayer as he pinned you down and began to thrust with the kind of intensity you weren’t expecting. Hard thrusts shifted your body underneath his and forced sounds you never heard yourself make from your throat. Yeonjun was just as loud, grunting and moaning at every snap of his hips.

With a slight shift of his weight, he was laying on top of you, totally encasing your body in his presence and burying his nose in the sensitive skin of your shoulder. The new angle forced him even deeper into you and a new wave of pleasure rolled through you. Your inner walls contracted around Yeonjun’s cock as a result and his hips stuttered at the feeling.

“Oh, do that again,” he commanded before biting into the soft skin behind your ear. You followed his orders easily and felt his cock twitch as a reward.

“Fuck, I’m close already, you’re so hot. You made me like this. Shit, princess. I missed you so much,” his thrusts became impossibly faster and deeper, bringing you just moments away from the feeling you were so desperately chasing.

“Jun,” your voice was high and needy, “I need more, I need more,” your words melted into incoherence but he still got the message and dislodged one of his hands from your shared grip to harshly rub at your clit. The touch was absolutely electric. Your eyes rolled back in your head and it only took a few more thrusts from Yeonjun before your vision turned white. You knew you were yelling and whining pathetically but you couldn’t get yourself to stop as he continued drilling into you to prolong your high and chase his own.

As soon as you began to calm down, Yeonjun pulled out. Although you felt painfully empty, your attention shifted immediately to the sight of him working a hand over his cock. He hadn’t given you the time to marvel at him earlier, so you took the opportunity to wonder at the perfect size and curve of his reddened cock, glistening with the sheen of your release. Yeonjun’s voice heightened the faster he moved his hand; swirling his thumb around the tip shakily before he finally released in hot spurts across your body. The sounds he made as he came all over your stomach and chest were nothing short of heavenly. Even through his ragged breaths he called out to you, chanting praise that made your stomach turn in more ways than one.

Despite the messy state of your skin, Yeonjun pulled you upwards and insisted on wrapping you up in a hug. You felt a little disgusted at all the fluids involved but said nothing. The two of you hadn’t really hugged since the day he left. He placed a kiss on your forehead and there was no denying just how tender the action was, especially following the spontaneous sex the two of you had just finished.

“I wasn’t lying, you know. I do like you. I’ve never stopped liking you. I didn’t just say that to have sex with you, I hope you know that. I would say I even love you but…” his voice was raspy from overuse. You stared into his eyes, trying to read the odd mix of emotions swirling in his irises.

“It’s okay, Jun. I know you can’t...with work and everything,” you traced patterns on his bare chest, “I like you too. Even though we’ve found ourselves in a super weird spot here. And I’m happy we, ya know.” Your face was burning at the absurdity of being shy about it when a mere three minutes ago you were begging for him. “And I love that we’re cuddling and everything, and it’s a great moment for us, but I’m cold and sticky,” your nose scrunched involuntarily at the confession. Yeonjun couldn’t hold back the loud laugh that brought you back to every other moment you’d heard it before.

“Guess those things are my fault, huh?” Yeonjun teased, leaning down to place a light kiss onto your nose. You feigned upset but he didn’t buy it. Instead, he wiggled his way off of the couch. You tried your best not to stare at his towering form as you took the hand he held out to you.

“Shower?” He questioned, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you as you stood to your full height. For a second you hesitated, knowing the fondness growing in your heart would only hurt you even more in just a few hours. But you had him for just one day. Why not make the most of it?

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stargirlrchive · 4 years

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Home - Spencer Reid

masterlist ; request are open

author’s note: hi this is my first fic in over a year, crazy! and my first criminal minds/Spencer Reid fic so be nice to me <3 anyways hope you enjoy this, it was so fun to write. if you like Harry Potter my masterlist is linked above! i hate the title, can’t think of anything else though

disclaimer(s): kissing/making out, slightly nsfw but not really, curse words, angst? bold & italics are memories, GIF NOT MINE

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 3,180

Whether people choose to believe it, Spencer was always angry and sad, but mainly angry. Angry that he was so stubborn and that his life slipped past him, angry about the fact that he went home to an empty apartment, angry that he was lonely.

A dark and heavy presence looming over him as he realized that it was about to be a year that he had broken up with you and he still couldn’t even turn to face your side of the bed. Because even if you never officially moved in with each other, that side was yours. From the very first night you had stayed over he knew no one would be able to take it. And that was true, no one had. It was just empty now.

It was nearing 3 am and he had been tossing and turning, the king sized bed feeling a lot smaller and crowded and he felt as if he was drowning. He threw the blankets off and picked out clothes, he needed a shower. A fresh, stress-relieving shower. So he trudged on into his bathroom, turning the water and waiting for it to adjust to the temperature he liked.

The second his eyes closed and the water hit him, your face, perfectly vivid in his mind appeared. Red rimmed puffy eyes, dark pink cheeks and bitten lips. His eidetic memory being both a blessing and a curse. He swore under his breath as he tried to get that very vivid image from his brain. He had not been able to even look at anyone else romantically much less be with them physically. So he couldn’t get all those images out of his brain. Not that he’d ever be able to, he thinks that even without his eidetic memory he would never be able to forget how you looked, how you felt.

His hand went out and turned the water even colder, shivering as the cold water hit his back. The memory left his mind quickly as he focused on his teeth clanking together. He just needed to cool off.

He left the shower soon after that, and changed into his clothes. Dark grey sweats and a black hoodie. He was drumming his fingers against the counter top as he waited for the water to finish boiling. He hated how there wasn’t a corner in his apartment that you didn’t mark, that wasn’t filled with your presence. He couldn’t seem to escape you.

You laughed quietly as Spencer fixed himself between your legs, arms wrapping around your waist as he laid his head on your shoulder. You were sure his neck was hurting, even with you sitting on the counter top he was so much taller than you. “Your neck is going to hurt, Spence.”

Your fingers began to thread through his hair, trying to untangle his curls. They slowly moved down to his neck, rubbing small circles. He hummed in appreciation and you felt his lashes flutter against your neck and you knew his eyes closed. “Why don’t you go to bed?”

“I was gone for over a week, did you not miss me?”

He was pouting and it made a small giggle escape from your throat and you felt him smile. “Of course I missed you, Dr. Reid.”

“Mmm.” He mumbled happily at the nickname.

You tugged at his hair softly to pick his head up, you wanted to stare at him for a little bit.

He picked his head up, his golden brown eyes shining darker than normal, his eyes looking like dry autumn leaves and you felt a warmth flow through you. “You know I love you right?”

He pressed his lips to yours softly in response, his lips were so soft and you pulled him closer. Your fingers draping themselves around his neck and making sure to press yourself as much into him as you could. His tongue slowly pried your lips open and danced along with yours. The kiss was heating up but remaining so sweet. You were the first to pull away, taking in a long breath of air, “I love you too.” He pressed another small kiss to your lips, recounting everything he could tell you about the last case he was on.

He picked the coffee mug, and made his coffee, grabbing his keys and slipping on some running shoes. He knew where he was going and he knew he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. He kept looking over his shoulder, it was only 4 in the morning and it was still dark out. Why the hell was he doing this?

He had made it to the apartment complex and he wondered if the code had changed, but he realized how incredibly creepy that was. Although his fingers itched to punch them in as the four digit code popped into his brain.

Then before he could stop himself he pulled out his phone and he was calling you. He felt like throwing up, what the hell was he thinking? He didn’t even know if this was still your number, and it was 4 in the fucking morning. Of course you weren’t going to answer. He was going to hang up before he could leave a voicemail but then a groggy “Hello?” came from the other side of the line and he stopped breathing.

There was a pause before a quiet “Spencer?”

He cleared his throat before nodding, then quickly realizing you were speaking on the phone, “Yeah-uh yes. Hi.”

He wanted to bash his head into the wall beside him, he is getting to talk to you after nearly a year, one of the worst of his life, and all he says is ‘Hi?’

“You do realize it’s 4 in the morning right?”

He looked up to where he knew your apartment to be and could see what he knew to be your bedroom’s light turn on, so you were still living here.

“Yes, I-Um I was just around the neighborhood and I wanted to say hi.”

He heard you laugh quietly and his stomach dropped, you didn’t sound angry, which he expected you to be.

“You were in the neighborhood? What are you doing driving around this late? Or early should I say.”

He could lie, so easily lie and say they just got off a case and this was the way to get home, which you knew to be true, or he could tell the truth. He went with the latter, “I’m walking actually, I just couldn’t sleep and decided to take a walk and before I knew it I was outside of your apartment.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath and since he was looking up, he saw when you peaked through the window. “But I should go- I shouldn’t have even come in the first place. I-I’m sorry. I have no right to just walk back into your life after a year. I’m sure whoever you’re with right now wouldn’t like it.”

“Whoever I’m with?” Your voice gave off how utterly confused you were and Spencer felt like crying. Because he knew he shouldn’t have but a small part of him hoped you were single, hoped that you were waiting for him. He was so utterly selfish because he couldn’t bare the thought of you with someone else. He wanted to know you were still his, even after all this time.

“Spencer I’m not with anyone, and you can come up. If you want?”

Your voice was so timid his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. “Can I please?”

“You remember the code?”

You both started laughing because of course he did, of course he fucking remembered the code, the floor, the apartment number. “I’ll be up in a few.”

Spencer hung up and nervously made his way up, walking slowly to calm the rapid beating of his heart, he could hear it ringing in his ears and feel the pulsing in his neck. He had no idea what to expect but this was the first time he was so utterly happy since the last time he was with you that he didn’t care, he just missed you.

You on the other hand had absolutely no time to calm your rapidly beating heart. You quickly slipped out of the large shirt you were wearing. It was definitely not because it was your ex-boyfriends who was currently making his way up to your apartment. You rummaged through your drawers and slipped on a matching pajama set you had and let your hair down, running your fingers through it to get rid of the look of it being up for a few hours. You brushed your teeth quickly, having just done it a few hours ago. You admired yourself in the mirror, you cleaned up good. You only had a second to yourself before there was a soft knock on your front door.

You felt dizzy, but in a good way. When you opened the door you tried your hardest not to look Spencer up in down, but the year apart had changed him. You bit down on your lip and gave up the pretense of checking him out. Because he didn’t, so why shouldn’t you?

You took in the stubble, the curls, the way he filled out the hoodie he was in, you could tell there was more muscle to him. He looked healthy, he looked good. Despite the dark circles under his eyes.

Spencer had to resist with everything in him to not wrap you up in his arms. So he just admired you from where he was standing outside. You were just like he remembered, only visible difference was that your hair was longer, from what he could tell it reached your lower back. He forced his eyes to remain on your face after the first time his eyes took all of you in.

He sent you a smile and you sent him one back, he felt his stomach drop and twist all at the same time. He felt breathless.

You moved from the door, “Come in.”

He walked in and awkwardly stood by your couch, he didn’t know if to sit or stand. He didn’t know if he was going to stay long or just be here for a few mins. He hated that he didn’t know how to act in your home when before he’d come back from a case and stay over even when you weren’t home.

You sat down and motioned for him to follow, which he did. You were drumming your fingers against your thigh as you nervously looked anywhere but him. Things were never this awkward between the two of you. He wished for things to go back to normal, whatever your normal was. It was strange having a boyfriend who worked for the FBI, things were never set in stone. That was why Spencer had been contemplating ending your relationship. He never had time, that was always his excuse. His career came before everything, even you. How he wished he had realized that your relationship was the only thing that centered and kept him grounded from all the chaos he saw everyday.

You had been waiting for over two hours. The restaurant was getting ready to close and the looks of sympathy from strangers made it so much worse. You were stood up, and by your boyfriend of two years. You felt the tears well up in your eyes as you realized he wasn’t showing up. You packed your bag and paid for the two glasses of wine you had drank. Wrapping your coat around as you walked through the chilly streets of Quantico, Virginia.

This had been happening so much lately you weren’t even sure why you were surprised, but it was your anniversary, and reservations to your favorite restaurant that Spencer himself had made. You decided to walk back to your apartment instead of taking a taxi, you needed to clear your head. Your phone began to ring and you let the first few tears actually slip down your cheeks. Picking it up to see that it was Spencer you didn’t have it in you to speak to him, he had hurt you far too much this time so you didn’t answer.

After 20 minutes your phone had not stopped buzzing so you decided to pick it up, you were growing frustrated.

“Hello?”

“Babe, where are you?”

You laughed quietly, he didn’t even remember. After he heard you laugh, one that was sarcastic and so out of character he had a sinking feeling he messed up. He looked at the calendar and the apologies instantly began to spill from his lips, how the hell did he manage to forget this?

“Spencer just leave me alone.”

Your voice cracked and he heard you sniffling, “Where are you so I can go get you?”

You didn’t answer his question, instead asking one of your own, “Where are you?”

“Your apartment.”

“Well now I’m not going there. Just leave and let me be alone.”

And with that the call ended and as much as he called you wouldn't answer.

After several hours of having Garcia track your phone, with no success because you had turned it off at one point there was still nothing.

Spencer’s eyes were raw from rubbing at them, he was trying his best not to cry in front of Garcia and Derek.

“I got something! Phone was just turned on and it looks like it’s a bar.”

“Have your phone ready.”

But a call didn’t come through, which they had assumed it was if the phone was turned on. After a few minutes Penelope wrote the address down and handed it over to Spencer, “Come on, I’ll take you.”

After that the night was almost a blur, Penelope helped Spencer take you back home.

Once you were back at your apartment and asleep, Spencer couldn’t stomach the thought of hurting you again. He kept doing it and he wasn’t sure how to stop it. He didn’t think you deserved that and thought that this would be easier. It wasn’t.

He wrote you a letter, letting you know it wasn’t working out and he just felt like your lives were far too busy and you were drifting apart. He asked you not to call, and you didn’t.

He really hoped you would have. But he couldn’t blame you, breaking up with someone over a letter? How cowardly. He thought you hated him.

“Earth to Spencer.”

He blinked a few times before he focused on you, you were smiling at him and he sent you one back, his cheeks burning. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I know you have a million thoughts running through that brain of yours every 10 seconds.”

Even now she was so understanding, even with how he ended things she excused the fact he wasn’t listening, was not present in the conversation.

“But do you want any coffee? I’m going to make myself some.”

He nodded and followed you into the kitchen, sitting on one of the highchairs of the island, his feet still touching the ground.

“I swear you’ve gotten taller.”

Your laugh rang through his ears and he swore it was the sweetest symphony he had ever heard, a dopey, lazy smile littered his features. He could listen to you all day.

“Maybe you just got shorter.”

“Touché Doctor.”

He wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking, but things seemed so normal, so at peace and at ease. You made the coffee for the two of you. You still remembered just how he liked it. He was never able to get it perfect, but you did.

“How has work been?”

He grimaced slightly, he didn’t know if it was a loaded question but with the look of pure honesty on your face, he knew you genuinely cared.

“Busy, like always. Think I just learned to prioritize certain things better and I make sure to give myself time off every now and then.”

There was hum in response to let him know you were listening. So he kept talking about different things that he had done throughout the year.

You couldn’t keep the smile from your face, even after he stopped talking.

“You know your eyes get lighter when you talk about things that excite you?”

His cheeks burned, “You’ve told me that before.”

“Still very true.”

Hours passed and you just caught up, eventually the topic of the breakup came up, it was inevitable. The sun was peeking through the blinds and you looked so sleepy, eyes droopy but you were fighting it. He knew you didn’t want him to leave and he didn’t either.

“You should get some rest.”

You rubbed your eyes tiredly, “I’m not tired.”

He laughed quietly and he could see when you started contemplating asking him, you were biting on your lower lip, they were so red and he wanted to kiss you. So badly he felt his core burning, you were so close, he could feel your warmth but he wasn’t going to do it. He didn’t want to scare you off, he didn’t want to push you away again.

“Do you want to stay?”

You were peaking at him through your lashes, cheeks flushed and nervously playing with your shirt. He did not need to be asked twice. He was nodding his head so quickly we wondered how he didn’t get whiplash.

Your smile was beaming and you stood up, holding your hand out for him. His finger quickly tangled with yours and he knew. You both did. That everything was fine between you. He missed how your hand fit in his like a missing puzzle piece. When you both got into the room he could see where you were laying down, the side he slept on untouched and he wondered if you had the problem of not being able to sleep on his side as well. He didn’t ask. He just slipped his shoes off and climbed into your bed, both of you sinking into each other, fitting perfectly together. Your legs tangled together, your face tucked into his neck and his head resting on top of yours.

“I’ve missed you.”

You looked up at him and pressed a soft kiss against his jaw, “I’ve missed you too.”

Spencer’s nose rubbed against yours and your eyes fluttered shut. Both of you wondered if you could feel the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. His lips were ghosting over yours, so hesitant and also scared that this was fake. That he was going to wake up from a dream and you wouldn’t actually be there.

But your lips crashed into his and he knew he wasn’t dreaming. This was far too real, far too familiar to be fake. He clung to you tightly and everything came natural. The kiss was all teeth and tongue and angry and sad and so overjoyed. The quiet noise that left your throat not going unnoticed by him and he pulled you in closer. He was home.

taglist: @swellwriting @carolinesbookworld @theboywhocriedlupin @awfulmoons @lumos-barnes @fortisfiliae @finnofamerica @beskarjedi (let me know if you’d like to be added <3)

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n

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anjuschiffer · 3 years

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Amira Wayne - Chapter 14

Happy Halloween everyone! Here’s day 14 of @biodad-bruce-month that I’m catching up on QuQ

Chapter 14: Wayne Gala

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords @fantasiame @corabeth11 @anonymously-odd @alexandriamw @officiallydarkgeek @galla02006 @maleive07

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Alfred looked at the teens in the back of the car that conversed in French, glad to finally meet the duo that were Amira’s latest addition to her circle of friends.

While Amira called them mere conveniences, Alfred knew that they were anything but that. After all, she would talk about them during half of their weekly calls.

Shortly before leaving for Paris, Amira had asked if she was able to do weekly calls with him, Alfred quickly agreeing and even giving her a private line for their calls.

Around two and a half weeks ago, Amira had told him about her two friends going to Gotham and asking if there was some way to ensure their safety.

Amira suggested the family hosting their stay, in which Alfred found it to be a marvelous idea.

“If I may ask Miss Amira, why did you suggest this idea?”

“I need to make sure they’re safe.” She told him. “Paris’ Victims are one thing, Gotham’s villains are another. Seeing as I’m not allowed to even be near a gala until I’m officially introduced to society, I need to do what I can to ensure their safety...I don’t want to lose them.”

“Pardon me for suggesting this Miss Amira, but why don’t you just come to Gotham to ensure their safety?

“As much as I know that I can, you know I really can’t. Paris needs me here. They need Ladybird to remain in Paris until the Hawkmoth threat is lifted. Until then, I am to stay here…”

“M.Pennyworth, is this really okay with M. Wayne? In regards to hosting our stay, that is.” Chloé asked, feeling Adrien squeeze her hand.

Despite already being teens, there were still habits the two still shared. After all, Chloé was the only other child Adrien knew growing up. She was his safety blanket during events they were forced to attend as kids... just like he was hers.

She still remembers them as clear as day.

“Have no worries about it, Miss Chloé, Master Adrien. Master Bruce and Master Dick were delighted to hear about the two of you attending tomorrow’s gala, Master Dick more so than Master Bruce.”

“Master Dick?” Adrien decided to ask. His father never told him about there being another Wayne.

“Master Bruce’s son. Adopted, of course.” Alfred elaborated, not once taking his eyes off the road. "We have arrived. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

---

Tim peeked from behind the doorway when he heard two accented voices join Alfred’s upon the manor door opening.

Tim watched as the two blonds gawked at the manor interior, setting their luggage beside themselves.

He jumped when a hand landed on his head, Tim turning to see Dick smiling at him with a tired smile.

Tim frowned.

“You should be in bed.”

“I have to make sure everything goes according to plan. For everything to work out as if he was here with us.”

“Dick, stop pushing yourself like this. You have to rest.”

Dick simply smiled at Tim as he chose then to approach the two guests.

“Welcome! The two of you must be Adrien and Chloé! Marinette speaks so much about you two!” Dick cheerfully said, stretching out his hand towards Adrien.

“You know Marinette?” Adrien asked, wondering- that’s right. He must know about her if Marinette knew Selina. “That must’ve sounded stupid. Marinette knows Mlle. Kyle, so it must make sense if you knew her as well.” Dick let out a chuckle.

“Not at all! Sometimes we forget the connections we have with one another, so things like this tend to happen. Now, I’m pretty sure the two of you are tired from your flight. Alfred, if you would show them to their rooms?”

With a bow, Alfred ushered the guests to their rooms, Adrien and Chloé taken aback by the massive portraits in one of the halls that they passed by.

While the two wanted to ask Alfred who the smaller boy in one of the portraits was, they couldn’t bring themselves to ask when they saw M. Pennyworth look at it with sadness in his eyes.

In one particular photo, Adrien couldn’t help but notice a small girl in the distance, feeling as he had seen that girl before.

Or maybe he was just drawn to her bright smile that warmed up him as he walked through the chilly manor.

“Here are your rooms, Miss Chloe, Master Adrien. I hope they are to your expectations.” Alfred said, signaling towards the two rooms across from each other. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

---

Barbara sat in class, tuning out her professor as he talked about the different sectors of the brain.

That’s when she saw a notification on her phone, making sure to not let a sigh escape her as she read it.

Grabbing her things, Barbara left the lecture hall without another word, dreading the fact that she is going to have to ask someone else for notes in her next class.

Her finger hovered over the name of the person who was the subject of the text, wondering if this was a good idea.

She was glad to know she was sent to voicemail.

“Hey, Tim just filled me in. Are you sure this is a good idea? Please call me when you get the time.”

With that said, Barbara pocketed her phone and directly headed to Wayne Manor, not liking the heavy premonition weighing in her mind.

What were they thinking?

Didn’t they realize that all of their secrets were in danger by having two outsiders within the manor?

Sighing, Barbara prepared herself for the possible danger that may ensue from this.

---

Chloe just couldn’t stand doing nothing, so when she asked Alfred what places they were allowed to roam in, she wasn’t expecting a gym as an option.

Of course, there was no way in hell Chloe was going to expose herself by going to the gym, so she asked to be guided to the manor’s library. Adrien happily tagged along, talking about wanting to start on some of their homework before heading back to Paris in two days.

“Chlo! I found us a place.” Adrien squealed, dragging her to a spot near the library windows where a perfectly placed desk with floor seats there, beckoning them to sit.

Adrien quickly sat down on the tri colored one while Chloe hesitated to sit on the other one that was black with golden threads.

“This feels wrong.” Chloe ended up blurting out, quickly getting up from it. “I feel as if-”

“Chloe, you’re just nervous about being here. Just take a seat and do a bit of homework, it’ll take your mind off the uneasiness.”

But the uneasiness wouldn’t leave her. She felt as if they weren’t supposed to be sitting there...as if the seats weren’t meant to be used by anyone but those who usually sat there...

With a sigh, she complied. “I guess you’re right.” Maybe she was uneasy.

---

An hour passed until Adrien got up, stretching his legs a bit.

“ And where would you even get help? We can’t reach Marinette without using a phone from this home. Our phones don’t work here, remember?” Chloe said, gesturing to her phone. “I totally forgot to get my other phone that works abroad. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.” She muttered, going back to doing her chemistry work.

“We’re in a library Chlo. I’m bound to find something that could help us.”

Adrien walked off to the front of the library, going from bookcase to bookcase, baffled to not even find a single book on chemistry.

It wasn't until he got to the second level where he found some chemistry textbooks, when a certain workbook caught his eye.

Taking it off the shelf, Adrien opened up the French workbook, surprised to see full marks on every page.

As he kept turning the pages, a photo slipped out, Adrien managing to catch it as it fell.

When he picked it up, the same girl from earlier smiled back at him as well as a boy her age.

The two children were covered in grass and dirt, Adrien noticing how the girl looked oddly like Marinette.

“Did you find anything?”

“Oh. Um, yeah! Just one though.” Adrien fumbled, putting the photo and the workbook back into their place before grabbing the chemistry textbook he had found earlier.

“ Just one?” Chloé scoffs. “Some library this is.”

“At least it has one?”

“Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”

Adrien smiled at Chloe’s antics, sitting back down, only for his mind to trail back to the picture he saw just minutes ago.

Why did she seem familiar?

---

After a few hours of studying, the duo were called for dinner.

The two managed to sit in comfortable silence, not questioning the fact that they were the only ones at the table.

After all, Adrien was used to it while Chloé enjoyed not having to talk to any Wayne.

Not having a Wayne meant a more at ease Adrien, meaning not having to listen to Adrien forced to butter up a rich man just to please his father.

Stupid Gabriel.

Thank the kwamis Chloé was never trained to do that. Then again, maybe she should have.

Maybe it would’ve been a chance to learn etiquette from her mother…

Who was she kidding...her mother wouldn’t even waste her time doing such a trivial thing.

Dinner lasted just half an hour and soon it was time to call it a day...or so Chloé thought.

Chloe tipped toed out of the kitchen, Pollen having gone ahead of her with a napkin filled with some flowers she found in the kitchen.

She had woken up with a jolt due to hunger and not wanting to bother Alfred so late at night, Chloe decided it was best to go herself.

Confident in herself, Chloe walked to where she believed her room was located, turning corners as she made her way back.

She proudly stood in front of what she believed was her room, turning the knob and letting out a sigh of relief. She closed the door behind her, only to realize it wasn’t her room.

After all, she didn’t have a wall filled with notes and photos. This was her first day at Gotham, this collection belonged to someone who obviously lived here for longer than a day.

Turning to leave, Chloe did a double take on what caught her eye.

Slowly closing the door with a soft thud, Chloe walked towards the wall, slowly making out the subject of the photos thanks to the moonlight seeping into the dark room.

As Chloe got a closer look at the photos, a giggling little girl in different frilly dresses were in each one, showing different milestones in her life.

Her first steps, her first pet, her birthdays, a few displaying some drawings or baking.

In each one, Chloé couldn’t help but notice that it was only M. Wayne in them, never once the girl’s mother being there.

As the girl grew, she began to resemble her father even more, the smile vanishing and now wearing a scowl on her face. Her midnight hair got longer by the photo, her emerald eyes sharper.

The girl was always shown with the same uniform from Gotham Academy in these later photos, but the photos were always taken from different events.

Assemblies, science fairs, art galleries, math decathlons, trips, award ceremonies...the girl was practically in every Gotham Academy event!

But then those photos completely stopped.

Soon, two boys entered the picture and the perfect model student from Gotham Academy vanished completely.

Whenever the two boys were in the frame, the girl was smiling, grinning, baking, running, in sport competitions, and just...simply being a kid.

There was even one where she was dripping blood from her nose as she was shown winning a dodgeball competition, the boy beside her holding it as well. Meanwhile, the teen behind them ruffled their hair as he, too, smiled at the camera.

This toothy grins from the children cause Chloe’s chest to twist for some odd reason.

As for the teen, he looked like a more younger version of Dick. maybe it was him.

But just like the other school photos, those soon vanished as well...or to be more honest, all the evidence of this girl growing stopped completely.

There were no more photos on the wall, the wall barren.

Chloe noticed a photo album on the floor, picking it up. It was empty.

Looking back at the photos, Chloé wondered what exactly happened to the girl, to the boy her age.

Deciding to take this as her cue to leave, Chloé noticed a photo peering from under the bed, only managing to see the tip of it.

Upon picking it up, Chloé felt her heart stop.

The photo looked back at her with an all familiar scene.

A scene only Queen Bee and two others should only be able to see.

Looking back at her, her favorite view of Paris was staring back at her.

Paris at its most gorgeous view, from on top of the Eiffel Tower once the sun has set and the moon rises, stars that peppered the night sky.

Chloé didn’t know how long she had been staring at the photo until Pollen poked her forehead.

“My Queen! There you are! You had me worried sick when I noticed you weren’t behind me!” Pollen cried, hugging Chloe.

“Sorry about that. Got a bit distracted.” Chloe patted Pollen’s head, assuring her that she had meant what she had said. “We should probably head back. We got a long day ahead of us and we’re going to need our beauty sleep if we want to survive tonight’s gala.”

Smiling, Pollen agreed, Chloe placing the photo on the dresser before closing the door behind her, never noticing the pair of eyes that caught her leaving the room.

---

Chloe huffed as she tucked a loose hair strand behind her ear, regretting putting her hair into a messy low bun. Despite her bangs being in place, having the rest of her hair in a mess was ridiculous!

Then again, she wanted it this way, the only way she could think of wearing her hair tonight. After all, it paired decently with her black pantsuit.

She couldn’t help but fall in love with the way the pantsuit fit snuggly, how she didn’t have to bother with worrying if she'd trip over the hem of a skirt or get it caught somewhere.

Now she got why her mother loved wearing these things.

Of course, her mother also wore a large sun hat no matter where she went, but Chloe wouldn’t dare wear such a hideous thing.

To think her mother called herself a designer and fashionista.

Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!

“Chloe, Earth to Chloe.” Adrien whispered, Chloe looking at him from the corner of her eye.

“I know, I know.” Latching on Adrien’s arm, she plastered a smug smile on her face as she watched a few girls walk back from where they had come from. “To think this is the only reason why you want me around.”

“It’s not like that!” Adrien squeaked, pulling Chloe towards the punch bar.

Chloe looked at the suit he was wearing, pursing her lips as she grabbed his jacket’s cuff.

“M. Pennyworth wasn’t kidding when he said he was a jack of all trades. His embroidery is impeccable! And to think he did this in one afternoon.” Chloe couldn’t believe the detail on the golden design, how it was sewn so elegantly onto the black suit. It was just as professional as the design on her belt, just as precise as well.

A matching set.

Chloe let go of the cuff, holding her head high as they passed by a group of older teens.

“I feel bad for making him do it, but after considering what you had told me this morning, I knew I had to get it done.”

To prevent from other families trying to impose their children onto Adrien or Chloé, the two thought of making their wardrobe to match, to give the impression that the two were already an item with each other.

So far it was working, even though a few people didn’t buy it.

“There you two are. So, are you guys enjoying the gala?” Dick managed to snap the two of them from their french conversation.

“Dick!” Adrien said with a grin. “To be honest, it's kind of draining. Never had to run from so many adults wanting to introduce their daughters to me.”

“You’re telling me.” Dick said with a chuckle, cringing at the many times he had to talk to older adults who had once sneered at him when he was young. But upon hearing that he was to inherit all of Bruce’s wealth, they all tried to get into his good graces.

As if he would. Plus, love wasn’t in his mind at the moment.

Burrowing those unpleasant thoughts to the back of his head, Dick noticed a pair approaching them. “Chloe, Adrien. I would like to introduce you to my father, Bruce Wayne.” He gestured behind them before leaving the teens with the adults.

Turning around, Adrien and Chloe were faced with tonight’s host, Selina pressed snuggly against his arm.

“Good evening, Adrien. Chloe. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the two of you.” Bruce smiled at them, Adrien having to tilt his head back a bit. Chloe now understood why all the ladies of Gotham fell for him. “Care to join us for a drink?”

---

Tim watched as Amira’s friends stirred up a conversation with Bruce, the two blonds chatting as if they had known Selina for years.

“Shouldn’t you be there?” Tim jumped when he heard Barbara talking from behind him, almost falling out of the computer chair he was in. “Careful there! Wouldn’t want to give Dick a reason to scold you for being down here without one of us with you.”

“I could say the same to you. I thought you wanted to know more about the two Parisians.”

“Touche.” A silence fell between the two. “Come on, Tim. Bruce is going to come looking for us if we don’t hurry and make an appearance.”

Huffing, Tim straightened out his tuxedo and followed Babs out of the Cave, dreading tonight’s events.

On one hand, he had yet to tell Bruce and Alfred of what he saw last night. What would they say when he tells them of one of the Wayne secrets being exposed? On the other hand, he had to deal with seeing something he never thought Bruce was capable of doing.

How did Dick let him do this?

---

Adrien and Chloe were grinning from ear to ear as they listened to Selina’s retelling on how she beat Bruce in poker during their first date when Bruce’s attention was drawn to something across the hall.

Selina managed to see what caused Bruce to become distracted, noticing that Adrien and Chloe also caught onto Bruce being signaled by Dick from across the hall.

“Seems like it’s almost time for the speech.” Bruce muttered, turning back to the two teens. “It’s been nice talking with the two of you. I hope to speak with you two soon.”

“Pleasure was ours, monsieur .” Adrien said with a curt and a grin.

“It was a pleasure meeting you and getting to talk to you. I can’t wait to rub it into my mother’s face the next time she calls. To think she has yet to talk to you while I have.” Chloe puffed out her chest as she took a sip of her drink, Selina laughing at her words.

“Please tell me how that goes. Can’t wait to hear how she reacts to that.” Selina said, giving her a piece of paper.

“I promise I will.” Chloe said, giving the woman a grin as she accepted the paper and stuffed it into her pockets.

With that, Bruce and Selina walked away from the two teens, Chloe and Adrien watching as they were left alone for possibly the rest of the night.

They watched as they waved as they passed by people before seeing Bruce become a bit grim when he got to Dick.

Seeing Bruce’s face didn’t sit well with Chloe, taking a sip of champagne as she watched the Waynes walk together to the front of the hall.

Just what were they hiding? Did it have to do with the kids in the photos she saw last night?

Noticing that she was out of champagne, she turned to Adrien.

“Adrien, fetch me some more? I feel like I’m going to need it.”

---

“Are you sure you want to do this, Bruce?” Selina asked, giving his arm a squeeze as he got hold of a mic.

“Selina. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” Bruce tried to reason, but knew fully well that she had already seen through him. “Jason and I had prepared for this for months. What would he think if I couldn’t go through with our promise now that he was gone?”

Selina caressed Bruce’s cheek before pecking his lips.

“Just remember, if you need a breather or if you feel like you need a minute to compose yourself, I’m here.” Smiling, Bruce turned his attention back to the guests and turned on the mic.

Taping on it, the sound gathered the attention of everyone in the room, Bruce possibly regretting doing this despite how much it hurt him to do so.

He watched as Dick soon left his side and walked right out the hall, watching as Barbara tried to bring him back in, only to fail.

She looked at him with concerned eyes, only then noticing that Tim was looking at him with worry in his eyes.

Bracing himself for what was to come, Bruce plastered on a smile he hoped his guests couldn’t see through.

“Good evening everyone. I do hope you are all enjoying yourselves. My name is Bruce Wayne -for those of you who don’t know me already- and this is my lovely fiance Selina Kyle. Yes, I’m sorry to disappoint, but as rumors already have it, I am to get married sometime next year.”

A series of mixed chuckles, cheering and sobs filled the room as Bruce awkwardly stood there.

“Putting that aside, I welcome you all to this year’s Wayne Gala.”

---

Adrien listened as Bruce continued to talk, growing a tad bored of the man’s roundabouts about the improvements on Gotham and the different charities the gala once was known for.

He was starting to sound just like the many people he had met during those stupid parties he was dragged to with his father. Hosts who would go on and on about their achievements and brag about their wealth.

Just your ordinary asshole.

But as Bruce started to transition to his next point, Adrien picked on the odd tone lining his words. His words were coated in guilt, sorrow...and love.

“This year, my son Jason and I decided to start a new foundation, the Catherine Todd Foundation. Now, as most of you have noticed, he’s not here. While tonight is not a school night, he does have other things to attend to tomorrow, so I made him turn in early today. You should’ve seen the pout on his face when I told him it was past his bedtime.”

The crowd laughed.

“Of course,” Selina picked up. “Just because he isn’t here to say it himself, doesn’t mean he can’t tell you all what this foundation means to him.”

Murmuring filled the room, Adrien picking up a new champagne glass for Chloe and turned to got back to her, only to freeze in place.

A screen protector had been lowered and there, on the screen was the boy he had seen yesterday.

“The boy from the photo.” Adrien muttered to himself, only then remembering that this boy was also in the family portrait he saw when he first arrived at the manor.

This boy...he is a Wayne...his name is Jason…

Jason Wayne...Bruce’s son…

Adrien listened as Jason greeted and thanked everyone who was able to make it to the gala. He went on how he had planned this foundation with Bruce, what the foundation would do. How the foundation who help to create safe shelters for the kids that lived in the slums, help create rehabilitation centers for those with addictions and more notably, create resources for those enduring domestic violence.

Adrien listened as Jason went on a tangent on how these were the things he didn’t want any other person to have to go through, just like how his mother did.

In honor of his mother who raised him and had to fight through poverty, addiction and abuse, Jason named the foundation after her.

To pay homage to the woman who he loved the most and allowed him to make it this far in life.

The video then ended with Jason thanking everyone again, the hall erupting into a large sound of applause, Adrien hearing a few sniffles here and there.

He didn’t know how, but he somehow found himself back at Chloe’s side.

“ I think I need some fresh air.”

---

Chloe wandered around the hall, exiting it and turned a corner, slumping against the wall.

“It was the same boy as the photos.” Chloe told herself, placing her head on her knees.

The same one, there was no denying it. But the video felt off.

Looking at the half empty champagne glass in her hand, she chugged it down, tilting her head back to drink the last drop.

Something was wrong, and Chloe knew it. Despite Bruce telling everyone else that he was sent to bed early, she had yet to meet the boy.

She’s been here for two days and she had never seen him around the manor at all.

Just what was going-

“What were you idiots thinking!” Chloe heard someone whisper yell, Chloe deciding to stay where she was, placing her head against her knees.

“Babs,” she heard the other say. So the first voice belonged to Babs. “Bruce said this was the only way-”

“Was Dick on board with this?” Babs asked, letting out a heavy sigh when Chloe assumed he nodded. “Tim...what the hell?”

“Listen, I wasn’t the one who-”

“I don’t care about who suggested it and who gave it a green light. I’m worried about Amira. What is she going to say when she finds out-”

Amira? Who’s Amira?

“Amira? She’s who you’re worried about?”

“Tim, Bruce pulling a stunt like this isn’t going to sit well with her, especially not after the last time they talked.”

“What if she doesn’t find out? What if we don’t tell her? After all, she lives across-”

“Did you forget what happened last time? Just because she lives in Paris now doesn’t mean she won’t find out. She will and when she does...who knows what’s going to happen.”

“Babs, you’re-”

“I’m not over thinking this Tim because I know what might happen and that’s what is scarring me... What if she starts to hate us even more because of this? What then? Will she ever accept and forgive us? Tim...I can’t bear with this...I can’t.”

Chloe heard the woman’s voice crack, a few sniffles as well.

“I miss the days where the two of us got to share recipes, small stories of our father’s getting along, the days where Amira was able to be herself again, to be the child she was meant to be.”

I miss the days where Dick didn’t have a smile plastered to his face every damn second of the day. I miss the days where he let himself get angry, to become upset and frustrated without having to hide in an empty classroom.”

“Babs...I-”

“Is that too much to ask for? Is it too much to ask to get my two friends back? Is it, Tim? Is it?”

Chloe listened as the silence became unbearable with each second that passed.

“Barbara, you should know better than to wish for that. We can’t control something that we have nothing to do with.”

“But we can do-”

“If we do anything, we’ll make things worse. Or did you forget what happened a month ago?”

Babs went quiet. “Remember how she reacted when she saw us? How she ran when you called her by her alter ego? Do you really think we should be interfering with the Waynes’ family matters when we don’t have a spec of her trust?”

Tim huffed. “I know you just want to make things right with her, but I suggest you wait until things get better before things turn out as bad as it did with the Justice League when they lost her respect.”

The Justice League?

“Wait, you know what happened between them and-”

“Of course I do. Did you really think Bruce’s passwords would prevent me from trying to find out what’s behind it?” Tim asked offendedly. “ Anyways, as for what happened, they thought it was a good idea to kidnap her before attempting to recruit her. They almost got her to join them until she found out they just wanted to keep an eye on her. Wasn’t onboard with them viewing her as an unfortunate child dealt with the burden of protecting Paris.”

Chloe froze.

Protecting Paris?

“Wait, you’re rich?” Bee screeched out, looking at Chat for back up. “I mean, that would explain the burner phones, the equipment at the- you have the money to buy out an entire floor!”

“Yes Bee. I’m rich, although it’s my father who’s rich and was stupid enough to forget to take away my black card.”

There was no way… but… didn’t the day she become Queen Bee...

“So that’s how they got banned from Paris.” Barbara muttered. “Does-”

“He does and wasn’t happy to know they did that to her. He-”

“So here’s where you two are!” Dick scolded. “Selina and Bruce have been looking for you two!

“Sorry about-”

“There’s no time! Bruce needs you two to help look for Jagged Stone! He’s the opening act and you two-”

Chloe listened as the trio’s voices trailed away, Chloe lifting her head until it hit the wall behind her.

“So this is where you have been.” Chloe watched as Adrien crouched in front of her. “Come on Chlo! Jagged is about to-”

“I’m not feeling so well Adrien.” Chloe whispered, slamming her head into her knees. “I think I drank too much.”

Helping her get up, Adrien didn’t question Chloe any further. Her face had said it all. Something went down and she needed more than fresh air to clear it out of her mind.

“I’ll make sure to tell Alfred of our early retirement. I just hope M.Wayne doesn’t feel offended by you being a total light-weight.”

“Oh shut it! You know damn well I resisted drinking too much because we’re considered underage to drink in America!”

---

The gala was a success, or so that’s what Dick told Adrien when the two literally crashed into each other when Adrien had walked into the kitchen that morning.

He also thanked Adrien for his father’s donation and to relay the thanks to Chloe as well.

“Who gave the larger donation?”

“Bourgeois.” Dick said, grinning into his milkshake when Adrien let out a grin. “I’m guessing your parents are always trying to outshine the other?”

“Since they knew each other on the field.” Adrien had answered back before Dick had to leave for school.

On his own -since Chloe insisted on wanting more sleep- Adrien wandered through the manor’s gardens, roaming around and taking in the serene ambiance.

After an hour of wandering through the shrubs and rose garden, Adrien stumbled upon a secluded gazebo covered in vines and daisies.

As Adrien stepped onto in, the floorboards thanked him in the form of creaks and squeaks. A table and a pair of cushions that matched the ones in the library greeted him, Adrien noticing some greater wear in the black one than the other.

Was the tri-color one more recent then?

“So you found the old gazebo.” Alfred spoke up, Adrien having a heart attack from the elder’s words.

“M. Pennyworth, how long have you been there?”

“Just a few moments. I actually came here to air out the place.” Adrien let Alfred do what he said he had come for, watching him slowly and gently clean the dirt and dust off the table. Alfred gently beat the cushions a bit before carefully setting them back down in the same spot there were.

“M.Pennyworth.” Adrien dared to speak up, feeling awkward being in the gazebo with Alfred. Something told him he should’ve left the moment Alfred had arrived. Watching him cleaning the place felt like it was something sacred for Alfred and Adrien didn’t know why. “This gazebo...it’s very important to you, isn’t it?”

The trees swayed in the wind as Adrien waited for Alfred’s answer.

“Yes. Yes it is.” Alfred stared at the cushions he had finished cleaning. “This was Master Jason’s and his sister’s favorite place to study whenever the day let them be outside.”

“His sister?”

“Amira is her name. A sweet child she is, though it pains me to not be able to see her again.”

“Not see her? But she is Jason’s sister, so didn’t M.Bruce-”

“M. Bruce only adopted Master Jason. Miss Amira didn’t have the same luck as Master Jason you see. Another couple took her in and took her elsewhere after…” Alfred trailed, Adrien noticing the elder man stare at the tri-colored cushion with sorrow, the same way Adrien’s father’s eyes would look when he broke to him about the news concerning his mother.

“Please M.Pennyworth, you don’t have to tell me anything. Forget-”

“Even though it pains me to remember Master Jason, this is part of the healing process. This is part of my healing process of my grandson’s death.”

Adrien stared at Alfred with wide eyes.

“Jason...is dead?”

“Master Jason… he died in a villain incident almost a year ago.”

“But hold on a second. Wasn’t that video from last night-”

“Pre-recorded.” Alfred cut off. “Master Bruce insisted on doing that last night despite my being against it. Should Amira find out about it, it would be sure to-”

“Amira? As in...his sister?”

“And best friend.” Alfred added. “Those two were inseparable. Attached to the hip. Even after the two were taken in by different families, the two went to the same school and stayed together. But when Jason died, her parents took her with them to open up their business in Paris. To start anew and let Amira recover from his death.”

Adrien watched as the daisies swayed in the wind, watching as they continued to flourish despite the harsh fall winds.

“Well, look at the time,” Alfred said as he took out his pocket watch. “I have to start prepping on tonight’s dinner. If memory still serves me correctly, we have a few more guests tonight. Until dinner, Master Adrien.”

Alfred left Adrien to ponder in the gazebo, hoping that the boy was able to catch onto the hints he left for him.

“Continue being a friend for my granddaughter Master Adrien. I trust that you and Miss Chloe help to bring her back from the abyss of despair.”

It’s been three days since Bee’s and Chat’s departure. Tomorrow, they were coming back, but Ladybird told them to take the day off. No matter what happened tomorrow, they weren’t to make an appearance until the day after.

“So, is this goodbye?” Carapace asked Ladybird, watching as she huffed.

It was finally Carapace and Gris’ last night of patrol, Carapace wondering if this truly was the last one.

He had grown fond of his new role, even if it was for only four nights.

But he knew better than to try and ask Ladybird to let him keep his miraculous. After all, Chat Noir and Queen Bee were to return two nights from now.

“Who ever said I wouldn’t need your help in the future?” Ladybird said with a smile, Carapace grinning at that. “After all, the end of Hawkmoth’s terror is growing near.”

At that, Carapace’s grin fell as did Ladybird’s. What irony.

“The final fight…” Gris muttered, looking at the tranquil Parisian night. “I wonder what awaits us when that day happens.”

The trio looked out into the distance, wondering what the future held for each of them.

For Ladybird, she hopes it brings closure.

#maribat #amira wayne #b!dbwm2020

101 notes · View notes

somethinginthewayiam · 4 years

Text

Request - Dark alley

a/n: I’m sorry @scorpionchild81 that it took so long for me to answer your request, I didn’t forget about you. I’m not used to writing angsty stories so this was a real challenge for me. But thank you for trusting me with your idea and giving me a chance to improve as a writer. I hope you like how it turned out!

Pairing: Henry x plus-size reader

Warnings: physical assault, language, brutality, fluff at the end

Words: 2735

Summary: It’s pretty much all in the request...

Ever since you and Henry made your relationship official, you’ve been receiving quite the amount of hate, mostly over Instagram. You figured that it would probably be problematic since you weren’t the skinniest girl and you’re not what you call a “model-type”, someone Henry would clearly deserve, but he chose you. You thought you had braced yourself enough before going public, but sadly that wasn’t the case.

Henry reassured you every day that you weren’t only enough for him, but everything he could have ever dreamed of and it always calmed you down. You had always restrained yourself from answering any DMs you got or commenting under hate posts until they got really personal and you just had to clap back.

You might have gone a little overboard as you were a bit drunk when it happened. Also, Henry was away filming and not there to distract you as usual. You didn’t think about it any further that night and went to sleep.

A few days later, you were walking home from work, it was already late. You always put in the extra hours when Henry was away. You didn’t like spending too much time home alone and you had at least another two weeks of that.

You took a short cut, a little dark alley you always took, you didn’t even think too much about it until you heard steps behind you. You threw a little look over your shoulder and saw about three women a few feet behind you. As they were just women, you didn’t think about it too much and kept on walking.

After another few steps, you felt them coming closer quite quickly. You threw another look over your shoulder and this time, the one in the middle, a tall brown-haired woman, made eye contact with you. “Can I help you?”, you asked, stopping in your steps and turning around.

“Yeah, why don’t you apologize for being such a piece of shit?”, she came straight at you. “Excuse me?!”, you asked her with big eyes. The women to her left and right crossed their arms in front of their bodies and stared at you.

“I read your comment on my post, bitch. Does Henry know how you talk to his fans? You should be happy he even looks at you. I don’t know he manages to get hard around your big ass body, so gross. Does he fuck you with his eyes closed thinking of his exes?”, she threw at you. At that moment you realized that she was the one that had posted the hate you replied to a couple of days ago.

“Shut the fuck up, you don’t know what you’re talking about”, you opposed. “Don’t tell me to shut up, bitch. Our man has suffered enough being with a stupid ass bitch like you and we have enough. It’s time for you to get your fat ass out of here and leave him alone”, she said as she came at you.

She raised her hand in an attempt to bitch-slap you across the face but you blocked her arm with yours. But while you were concentrated on the one in front of you, you didn’t see her friend coming at you from the side. Before you could even turn around, you felt a sharp pain in your knee as she kicked it. Your knees gave in and you dropped to the floor.

Next, you felt some hands pushing you to the ground and you landed on your side, your head hitting the street. Your hands came up to cover your face.

You felt a kick in your ribs and the sharp pain caused you to feel nauseous. Something heavy hit your head. It felt like someone’s handbag. Something rough on the bags outside scratched over your forehead and you felt a stinging pain.

“Stop! Please stop!”, you tried to scream but your voice was so weak. You pulled your legs close to your body, just waiting for it to be over. Your whole body was hurting but you also felt kind of numb. It was so surreal, you never thought something like this would ever happen to you.

“Hey, get off her! Stop it! I called the police!”, you heard someone shout. Your right ear was ringing after they threw the bag on your head again. And suddenly it stopped. You heard screams and quick steps on the street as the three women were running away. You didn’t dare to get your hands off your face.

You heard shuffling steps coming towards you and braced yourself for another attack, thinking they had come back. When you felt a hand on your upper arm, you flinched, turning away, bracing yourself for another attack.

“They’re gone, you’re safe”, you heard another woman’s voice. “Shh, it’s all going to be alright now”, she said and tried to get you to look at her.

You slowly put your hands down, blinking at the street lights behind her. You were looking at a slightly older woman, maybe in her late fifties. “Oh my god, dear. We need to get you to a hospital. Come on”, she said and helped you up.

Your whole body was shaking, your legs were weak. On the side where your knee got kicked, you limped. With the help of the woman, she got you out of the little alley and onto the main road. She called a taxi and drove with you to the emergency room.

She explained to the nurse what happened and stayed with you during the whole exam. She also didn’t leave your side when they called the police for you to give a statement. The woman that had practically saved you gave her statement as well.

When the officers asked you if you wanted to press charges, you negated out of fear this would happen again, that they would find you again. But your savior encouraged you to do it anyway, advising you to not give them the power over you. So, you did press charges against anonymous. The woman helped you with the descriptions of the women’s looks and appearances.

When you left the hospital with your guardian angel, you had three bruised ribs and a bruised knee on your right side and a little cut on your forehead. Thankfully, you didn’t need stitches, but you had several stripes holding the wound together. You also had a mild concussion from several hits to your head.

“Is someone waiting for you at home, dear?”, she asked you, looking concerned, when you were waiting for your taxi in front of the hospital. “Yes, I’ll be fine”, you lied to her, not knowing you actually wasn’t lying.

What you didn’t know at this point was that Henry had come home earlier. He didn’t call or text you to surprise you. He went grocery shopping and made you dinner. When you didn’t show up at your usual time, he just figured you were working overtime as you used to do when he was away shooting a movie or his new tv show The Witcher.

When it got pretty late, he was checking his phone for any messages. He called your phone but it went straight to voicemail. Maybe you were out with some of your girlfriends. He packed up the dinner in boxes and put it in the fridge. But he wanted to wait up for you.

When you came home, some painkillers in your bag, you were limping to your door. You didn’t notice the light was on in your house.

Just when you closed the door behind you, you heard quick taps of paws on your wooden floors before Kal came sprinting towards you. “Hey! What are you doing here?”, you said surprised, really happy to see him.

The big dog was so excited to see you, he ran around you and jumped up to lick your face. You spun around to follow him and got down on your knees to pat him, hissing at the pain in your right knee. You shifted your weight on your left leg as you ran your hand through his fur, facing the front door.

Henry came out of the living room and leaned against the doorframe, watching the two of you with a smile. He was happy to see you again even if it was just your back for now.

You were so happy to see your favorite bear again, especially in this hour of need. You were so happy that you didn’t think for a moment that wherever Kal was, Henry was too.

“Hey, my love. I thought you’d never come home tonight”, he said and you froze in your movements. Kal wanted you to keep petting him and nudged your hand with his nose, pushing his head forward in excitement and pressing into your right side like he normally did. You hissed as the sharp pain shot through your whole body, your hand holding your side.

“I wanted to surprise you, so I didn’t call…”, he continued until he heard you hissing. “Are you alright, Y/N?”, he asked and pushed himself off the doorframe.

Fuck, you needed to face him now. You thought you had at least two weeks to heal your wounds and then just say you hit your head on an open cabinet door or something.

You rose to your feet and slowly turned around. As soon as Henry laid eyes on the bandage on your forehead his eyes got big and he came over to you with two big steps.

“Y/N, what the hell happened to you? Oh my god!”, he cupped your face, gently turning your head to get a better look at your forehead. “It’s nothing, really”, you tried to play it down. “This doesn’t look like nothing”, he said and his voice rose. You could clearly see how terrified he was, but you weren’t able to look him in the eyes. You already had a lump in your throat, you feared that if you looked at him directly, you would lose it completely.

He grabbed the hem of your shirt, wanting to lift it up where you flinched when Kal touched you. You put a hand on his and pushed it down. “Please, don’t”, you said. When you looked at his face and saw the mortified expression on his face, your eyes filled with tears. You felt the teardrops running down your cheeks, wetting your skin.

“Baby, what happened?”, he whispered, tears shimmering in his eyes. You bit down on your bottom lip as you felt a sob creeping up your throat. “Please, you need to tell me what happened, I’m going crazy”, he said. More tears fell from your eyes.

“Were you attacked?”, he asked and you slowly nodded your head, not trusting your voice. “Did someone try to…”, he asked but had to pause. He closed his eyes for a second, his jaw tense. “R-ra…”, he started, but you quickly shook your head. “No, no, I wasn’t raped”, you quickly said with a shaky voice. Henry exhaled loudly, slightly relieved that you weren’t abused in that way.

You cupped his face and pulled him down for a light kiss on the lips, trying to reassure him. Then you let go and limped past him towards the living room. “Y/N, you’re limping!”, he called out as he watched you move.

You went straight to your liquor cabinet and grabbed the whiskey bottle. You filled some of the liquid into a glass and swallowed it all in one sip. Okay, maybe not the best idea with the painkillers you took, but you need this right now.

When you turned around, Henry stood in the middle of the living room, watching you. You took a deep breath which hurt your ribs and winced. Henry wanted to come over to you but you stopped him with your hand held up.

You slowly grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up on your right side, revealing a big, dark bruise that had formed over the course of the night. You heard Henry gasp and looked up. His eyes were filled with tears again, a hand covering his mouth.

“Let’s sit down”, you said, reached out, grabbed his hand and walked with him to the couch.

You told him everything that had happened tonight, including the nice lady that had helped you and you told him that you already pressed charges against your attackers. Henry got angrier with every word as you spoke. Over the course of your story, he needed a drink himself. Kal had lain down by your feet, feeling the tension in the room.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you”, he said and ran his hand through his hair. He then took your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and giving your knuckles a gentle kiss, letting his lips linger on your skin as he tried to collect himself.

“It’s my own fault, I shouldn’t have made those comments on Instagram, I…”, “No! Don’t excuse their behavior. Nothing what you said or could have said gave them the right to physically assault you”, interrupted you, his voice loud and strong.

“Baby, please calm down”, you said and squeezed his hand. “No, I can’t calm down”, he said and pulled his hand from yours. He reached for his phone on the coffee table. His thumbs flew across the screen. “Baby, what are you doing?”, you asked him, leaning over to glimpse at his phone, but your bruised ribs made you stop.

“I’m posting on Instagram what happened to you, making clear that no real fans of me would ever even talk ill about or to you, let alone assault you”, he said while his thumbs kept flying over this screen, hastily writing something.

You grabbed his phone from his hands, taking it away from him. “Henry, no!”, you said and put his phone behind you. “Give me my phone back, Y/N”, he said and held his hand out. “No”, you shook your head.

“Henry, baby, please, listen to me”, you said and grabbed his hand. You brought it up to your face and kissed the back of his hand before holding it between your hands close to your heart. “You’re outraged right now, you should NOT post on social media”, you said slowly, over-pronouncing every word.

“Please, Henry. I had a long night, I’m very tired and in a lot of pain. I just want to go to bed and I want you next to me”, you said with a low voice, almost whispering. Henry’s features got softer as he listened to you. He took a deep breath and then slowly nodded.

“You’re right, Y/N. You’re absolutely right, I’m sorry. Let’s go to bed”, he said and got up from the couch. He helped you up as well and walked you over to the stairs. He picked up your purse from the floor at the front door and brought it with him as he guided you upstairs.

He helped you change out of your clothes and into your pajamas. When he saw your bruises again, you could see his jaw tensing up. You caressed his cheek and gave him a gentle kiss to calm him down.

He brought you a glass of water so you could take your pain meds before he changed out of his clothes and into his pajama pants.

You had to sleep on your left side. Henry cuddled up to your backside, putting his arm over your hips, careful not to touch any part of you that was hurt.

You had actually been afraid to go to sleep tonight on your taxi ride home from the emergency room. You were so happy that Henry was home, you felt much safer with him right next to you. You felt a tear escaping your closed eyes and running down your cheek.

“I’m so happy you are home”, you mumbled into the dark bedroom, not sure if Henry was still awake, your hand on his arm that was draped over you. He entangled his fingers with yours, squeezing them reassuringly and pressed a kiss to your neck. “I’m right here”, he whispered. “I love you”, you said and sobbed lightly. “I love you too, Y/N”, he said and his thumb caressed the back of your hand as he pressed another kiss to your neck.

#henry cavill #henry cavill request #henry cavill angst #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x plus-size reader #angst #fluff #request

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babyangellee · 4 years

Text

Potential Breakup Song

Summary- You and Matthew have been dating for a while and you love him but this was the last straw.

Warning- Swearing

Word Count- ?

Requested by @xogiaxo “Hey can i request a matthew fanfic based on the song potential breakup song by aly and aj :)”

You groaned as you rolled over to turn off your alarm, smacking around the nightstand until you hand eventually hit the dismiss button. You got up stretching your arms and yawning before running your hand through your messy hair. You got out of bed and padded towards the bathroom to brush your teeth and then headed to the kitchen to make coffee. When you went to go open the fridge you saw a note on the door.

Had to go do some press events for Rumple

You sighed pulling it off the fridge and throwing it in the trash and grabbing the milk from the fridge. You pulled out your phone dialing his number but it had gone to voicemail. Maybe he’ll call you later?

It took too long It took too long It took too long for you to call back

You continued about your morning getting ready to go out to breakfast with your best friend. As you were curling your hair you heard your phone go off in your bedroom. You finished the strand and put the curling iron on the counter before walking to grab you phone. Hoping it was Matthew you quickly unlocked your phone to see a text from Adam.

Happy Birthday! Wow you’re 30! Such an old lady!

So his costar remembered but he hadn’t. Maybe he’ll be back in time for your reservations.

Your day went on as normal, you had met up with your friends for breakfast, went with your mom shopping, and received a bunch of happy birthday messages but none from Matthew. Now you were home watching the clock.

And normally I would just forget that Except for the fact it was my birthday My stupid birthday

7:00pm rolled around and still nothing. You felt embarrassed having to call the restaurant to cancel, as you changed out of your new dress you bought just for tonight. You stayed up until about 1:00am before you finally crashed on the couch.

I played along I played along I played along, rolled right off my back

Around three in the morning you felt Matthew tapping your shoulder, waking you from you not so peaceful slumber. “Baby I you fell asleep on the couch, let’s go to bed.” He said quietly dropping his bag on the floor.

“Do you know what yesterday was?” You asked annoyed and already wide awake. “Tuesday?” He asked shrugging his shoulders, clearly confused as to why you were mad.

“You know, all of your costars texted me. Even your fucking manager called me.” You shouted getting angrier by the minute. You were happy for him that he was following his dream and working hard but this wasn’t the first time he had blown you off and you certainly knew it wouldn’t be the last time. He seemed even more confused clearly not knowing what you were talking about.

But obviously my armor was cracked What kind of a boyfriend would forget that? Who would forget that?

“It was my birthday you asshole. You missed our reservations we’ve had for months. You didn’t even bother to call or text me!” Realization washed over his face as he instantly felt bad trying to reach out to grab you hands. You refused his touch and just scoffed. You walked away from him into your bedroom grabbing your messenger bag shoving your essentials into it before walking back into the living room, him trailing behind you trying to utter apologies but you weren’t listening.

“You know, it’s on thing to forget someone’s birthday but to forget your girlfriend’s birthday even though everyone else around you remembered really hurts. I had to call the restaurant and cancel. I stayed up until one in the fucking morning waiting for you and you never showed. This isn’t the first time and I know it won’t be the last. I’m done.” You hadn’t given him a chance to say anything before you stomped out of the front door. You walked over to your car and got in. You made it down the street before you started to breakdown.

The type of guy who doesn't see what he has until she leaves

You ended up driving to Kirsten’s house and crashing on her couch. The next morning she let you cry it out and you told her everything. You knew Matthew and her were really close but so were you her. Once you finally composed yourself you thanked to her for letting you stay and listening to you.

You left to her house and drove to your mom’s deciding that’s where you were going to stay for now. You didn’t want to go back to Matthew’s right now and you didn’t know if you were even going to want to go back.

We got along We got along We got along until you did that

After about a week you finally built up enough courage to call him, and of course he hadn’t answered. You left him a voicemail telling him you wanted your things back and to please bring it by your mom’s house when he was able to. It broke your heart to be this passive aggressive with him but this is what he deserved.

Now all I want is just my stuff back Do you get that? Let me repeat that I want my stuff back

You had been hurt and disappointed by him enough times and you weren’t going down that rabbit hole again.

Matthew was officially in your rear view window and you weren’t looking back.

'Cause without me, you know you're lost Minus you I'm better off Soon you will know

You're not livin' till you're livin' Livin' with me You're not winnin' till you're winnin' Winnin' me You're not gettin' till you're gettin' Gettin' me

taglist: @reidloversisforever @chevyimpala00067 @spncersreid @reidsmemory @xogiaxo @spencerreidisbootiful @kianagilder-blog @stxrryspencer @illuxions-x @spencersglasses

#matthew gray gubler #matthew x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #mgg #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg imagine #mgg fic #criminal minds

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multifandomfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Beauty and the Genius Chapter 7

TITLE: Beauty and the Genius Chapter 7 PAIRING: Spencer/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 7/? SUMMARY: When David Rossi joins the team, so does his daughter Gwendolyn. But what happens when she and the resident genius start developing feelings for each other? How will it affect Rossi and Reid’s team dynamic?

Gwen woke up to someone shaking her awake. She opened her eyes and saw her father standing there. “Dad?”

“Get up. Garcia’s been shot.”

Gwen shot up in bed. “What?” She hurriedly got ready and got in her father’s car.

They arrived at the hospital and found JJ, Hotch, Prentiss, and Spencer.

Gwen immediately hugged Spencer, knowing he must be taking it hard since he was closer to Penelope than she was.

“What do we know?” Rossi asked Hotch.

“Police think it was a botched robbery.”

“Where’s Morgan?” Prentiss asked.

“He’s not answering his cell,” JJ said.

Spencer pulled out his phone. “I’ll call him again.”

Gwen squeezed his hand before letting him go.

“What aren’t you saying?” Rossi asked Hotch.

“I spoke to one of the paramedics who brought her in. It doesn’t look good.”

Gwen sat down in one of the chairs and pulled out her pendant and started praying in Italian.

Spencer sat down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of it.

She hissed when she opened her hand. She’d been squeezing the pendant so tight, it imprinted into her palm.

Spencer examined her palm, lightly running his fingers across it.

The action sent a shiver down Gwen’s spine.

“You’re Wiccan, aren’t you?” Spencer asked. Spencer had some suspicions following their conversation in the coffee shop.

“I prefer Pagan, but yes.”

JJ walked up, halting their awkward conversation. “They can’t give me an update.”

“Morgan’s phone just keeps going straight to voicemail,” Spencer told the group.

“Where the hell is he?” Prentiss asked.

Gwen had a pretty good idea.

They soon lapsed into silence.

Gwen set her head on Spencer’s shoulder and entwined his fingers with hers.

Finally, Morgan walked in.

JJ stood up. “She’s been in surgery a couple hours.”

“I was at church. My phone was off,” he explained.

“There’s nothing you could have been doing here,” Spencer told him.

“The police got any leads?”

“I spoke to the lead detective. He doesn’t think we’ll get anything from the scene,” Hotch said.

A surgeon walked up. “Penelope Garcia?”

Both Hotch and Emily answered, “Yes.”

“The bullet went in her chest and ricocheted into her abdomen. She lost a lot of blood. It was touch-and-go for a while, but we were able to repair her injuries.”

“So what are you saying?” JJ asked.

“One centimeter over and it would have torn right through her heart. Instead, she could actually walk out of here in a couple of days. And I’d say that’s a minor miracle. She needs her rest. You can see her in the morning.”

Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” Hotch and JJ said.

“David and I will go to the scene. I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don’t care about protocol. I don’t care whether we’re working this officially or not. We don’t touch any new cases until we find out who did this,” Hotch said. He and Rossi left.

Penelope eventually came to and they were allowed to see her.

JJ kissed her on the cheek. “Hi. No tears. I’m afraid if I start crying, I’ll come unstapled,” Penelope told them.

“How are you feeling?” Morgan asked.

“Oh, confused, stupid, and in pain.”

“Are you up for some questions?” JJ asked.

“I never saw it coming. He seemed deliciously normal.”

“You know him?” Spencer asked.

Penelope turned to Morgan. “You were right. I should have trusted it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s that guy I told you about. The one I met at the coffee shop. I wanted to believe he was interest in me.”

“Forget that.”

“I let my guard down.”

“Do you have any idea why he would have done this?” Emily asked.

“Did he threaten you? Did he want something?” Spencer asked.

“I just thought he liked me.” Penelope breathed through the pain she was feeling.

“Okay. We’re gonna come back in a little while,” JJ said.

“We need a name,” Emily told her.

“James Colby Baylor,” Penelope answered.

They left the room, JJ staying behind.

Morgan rubbed his head and then slammed his hand into a white board.

“We need to stay calm,” Spencer told him.

“Don’t. Tell me what to be,” Morgan snapped.

“Do you remember anything she said about him?”

“No.” Emily walked up to them.

“I just talked to Hotch. They think he used a revolver.”

“A revolver?” Gwen asked. That was an odd firearm to use in a robbery.

“Who the hell uses a revolver?” Morgan asked, voicing Gwen’s thoughts.

“Someone who doesn’t want to leave behind evidence,” she said.

“Gwen’s right,” Spencer said.

Gwen smiled. She loved it when Spencer or her father backed her conclusions.

“Any witnesses?” Morgan asked.

“None so far. And he staged it to look like a robbery,” Emily said.

“Which means he’s smart enough to use forensic countermeasures. Odds are the name he gave Garcia is probably bogus,” Spencer elaborated.

JJ came out of Penelope’s room and walked up to them.

“What did she say?”

“She made me promise not to talk about her like a victim.”

JJ and Emily left leaving Spencer, Morgan, and Gwen to watch over Garcia.

“I asked her to go out last night. But she was pissed at me,” Morgan said, watching Penelope sleep, “She blew me off.”

“So you ended up in church?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah. What does it mean? On one hand, if she’d gone out with me, she would have never got shot. On the other hand…what are the odds that the first time I pray in 20 years, she’s on the table?”

“Sometimes things happen and it’s not our place to question the universe,” Gwen told him.

A nurse walked up. “She’s asking for you.”

Taglist: @imagining-in-the-margins and anyone else who would like to be tagged!

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #dr. spencer reid fanfiction #spencer/oc #spencer/gwen #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #Jennifer Jareau #Penelope Garcia #emily prentiss #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagines

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brianc521 · 4 years

Text

Gone

Request: an angsty blurb where raul forgets readers bday

(You asked for angst, and I’m annoyed so here you go)

The day had completely passed.

You hadn’t heard a peep. Not a single fucking thing from Raul. He’d posted on instagram that he was with Shawn and Peter, that they were having a brothers day.

You were really hoping it was a decoy to make you think he forgot but then surprise you with a party or gift or something. But no, he’s just sent you a ‘goodnight honey’ text and hasn’t been active on social media for over an hour.

The clock strikes 12:01, and it’s officially not your birthday anymore, and officially time to admit that your boyfriend forgot.

Raul calls you the next morning, but you let it go to voicemail not having a enough energy to deal with that yet. Not being able to have the heart to tell yourself you’re done.

The man can barely spare you enough time to text you back, why were you putting yourself through the heartache of feeling like you weren’t enough? It’s a new year for you, 22 only comes once, and you’re not gonna waste it being played and toyed with.

You saw on the snap map and him and Shawn were at the gym, so you ran over to the boys apartment, ready to get your shit and be done. What you weren’t counting on was Peter to be in the living room.

“Y/n?”

You jumped and looked over at the boy in nasa pajama pants and his glasses.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just needed to get something.” You cover for yourself. “Raul gave me a key.”

“Oh, okay.” He shrugs, going back to eating his cereal and watching Friends. You sighed and stared at him for a moment, taking in the fact that not only would you lose Raul but you’d lose one of your closest friends with him.

You and Peter got along really well. He’s the reason why you met Raul, and it hurt to know that he’d probably side with his brother.

You wipe your tear quickly and rushed to Raul’s room. You brought an empty bag and quickly started filling it with your things. It’s amazing to you how much your life had migrated to his room. You found books and sweaters, clothes and make up.

By the time you finished and were sure you had everything you looked around the room noticing how empty it looked and felt now. You walked out the door, shutting it behind you letting the sound of the latch be the sound to snap the chord.

You rushed by Peter and mumbled a quick ‘bye’ and setting your key on the counter before you broke down in sobs. It was too much, and you needed a moment.

Raul and Shawn were laughing as they walked into their apartment, going straight to the kitchen for cold water.

“Hey, there you are I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.” Peter rushed in after Raul.

He knew something wasn’t okay. Y/n’s never come over on her own, and never rushed out like that before. She’s always chilled and hung out.

At this point Raul as spotted the key on the counter and looks to Peter with furrowed eyes. “Is Y/n here?” He turns to stick his head into the living room. “Baby?”

“No she’s not here.” Peter shoots Shawn a look.

“Why is her key here?”

“Because she was here.”

“She never forgets her key.” Raul picks it up, sticking it in his pocket. “I’ll give it back to h-”

“She left it here on purpose Raul.” Peter interrupts him. “She showed up right after you had left, said she forgot something here, rushed into your room with an empty bag, and left in a rush with a full bag and tears streaming down her face.”

Raul set his glass down and stared at his brother. “What?”

“She didn’t look okay Raul. I was getting ready to ask her what was going on but she literally ran out of here like something was chasing her.”

Raul looked around, and it’s like the words clicked. She walked in with an empty bag and left with a full one. He runs past his brothers to his room and almost crumbles at the sight of her things missing.

Shawn and Peter run in after him to see him crying in the middle of the floor.

“What happened Raul?” Shawn asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Well how was she yesterday?” Peter shrugged.

“I didn’t see her yesterday.”

“Wait,” Peter held up a hand. “What kind of fucking boyfriend doesn’t see his girlfriend on her birthday.”

“Her what?” Raul looks up with wide eyes.

“Her birthday.”

“Oh my god.” Raul scrambles for his phone, dialing your number.

“The number you’re calling is no longer available.”

#raul mendes #raul mendes blurb #raul mendes imagine #raul mendes angst #raulmendes #raulmendes blurb #raulmendes imagine #raulmendes angst #shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes angst #shawnmendes #shawnmendes blurb #shawnmendes imagine #shawnmendes angst #blurb night

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allthelittlelostgirlsgrowup · 4 years

Text

Love is History

*taps mic* is this thing on? (I stole that from Obama. He was still in office last time I posted my writing).

So fun thing I did - write an angsty sequel to Love is Fiction. If you’ve never read it, it just got over 300 notes this past week. I figured it was time to dust this off from my drafts and complete it.

I hope you like it and my voice sounds similiar to the last election year when I put this out. Honestly I’m so different now and I think this captures the changes I’ve gone through and the way I view relationships now opposed to four years ago.

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters.

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing.

She thought she’d never write their break up.

“What’s the history?” Belle squints her eyes, nose crinkling as she watches Emma. Belle has been Emma’s ‘Editor’ since college. Now more official. She gets a paycheck, as Emma gets advances from a publishing company that started as a small mom and pop establishment. In the last four years, this little wagon wheel of a company is now a fleet of office buildings all over the US.

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

Belle keeps her eyes on Emma, relaxing the tension in her face and suppressing a smirk. They’re at a bit of a stalemate here because Emma isn’t sure what more info is needed and Belle isn’t sharing her thoughts at the moment.

“Emma, I knew their history. They finished book 3 in a ‘happily ever after’ kind of way. What underlying issues could have brought them to this point? Why did Alysandra leave?” Emma considers the question. Why did she decide to destroy the happiest relationship she’s ever written? Why would a character who fell madly in love just change their mind? “Maybe, ask yourself why you left.”

-/-

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed.

Emma flings her keys across the kitchen island, kicking her heels off in a huff before stomping over to her bar cart. She pours his favorite whiskey into the anchor-etched old fashion glasses he got her one Christmas.

“History is a stupid word” she grunts to no one but a tilted glass, muffling the sound as the amber liquid meets her lips a second after. She’s taken up talking to herself these last few months. The first four were spent crying and avoiding her reflection. The loneliness finally set in one night and she made herself her own best friend. So she asks her best friend ‘why did you do it?’ as she feels the tension in her shoulder blades ease. Why? Why did Emma Swan leave Killian Jones seven months ago?

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

-/-

The nightmares finally stopped and she no longer wakes with a startle when she finds her bed bare of him. Its been 216 days. She’s cried herself to sleep at least 180. She’s been broken before, boys have left in more ways than one, and she has managed to wake up one day finding herself less damaged than all the others. Today might be that day for the Killian Jones saga.

Today is they announced the upcoming film and casting begins in a few weeks. She knows she needs to finish this novel, but she hasn’t finished much. She barely finishes lunch on most days, barely finishes a thought that isn’t dripping in Killian. It’s been seven months and he is everywhere, in everything. She thought progress was a slowly-operated escalator but she was finally on her way.

And then the congratulation calls come through. Text after text, email, voicemail and she’s sure in a week or two, she’ll get a card from Mary Margaret. She sorts through them looking for something she’ll never find and she has to rewind.

She left him. It wasn’t mutual and it wasn’t obvious. He had no clue. All the calls and texts he was going to send her were sent months ago when he was breaking down in voicemails and begging her to just tell him she was okay.

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She doesn’t leave the apartment again until the 245th day. It is easy to stay inside with the modern advances in technology. People will bring literally anything to your front door. Except, maybe inspiration. That she has to go out and find.

She finds herself in Harlem. The Harlem Public Library. She has to get back to her roots. Sure, this isn’t Storybrooke, and no, she’ll probably never meet a pair of eyes as blue coconut as...but her work needs her to find a way to write.

She thinks of his face.

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again.

“I left because I had to.” She looks at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. That’s the only statement she’s made to anyone, herself included. When her friends, her agent, her editor, and her heart ask, she tells them she had to.

She makes her way through her apartment, recounting the moments, hours, days leading up to it. There are very few things her mind makes enough sense to share. Everything else is so convoluted, so tangled up in self-loathing and years of agonizing loneliness, the average person wouldn’t get it. Some days, as she’s matured and healed, she finds even she has trouble understanding it.

There’s not a day that goes by she doesn’t spend half of it feeling nothing but regret. That’s the healthy part of her, the well-adjusted adult who grew from the little lost girl. She’s sane enough to know she threw away the best relationship she’s ever had. She’s sane enough to know she saved him from future hardships with her.

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career.

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Nice of you to finally answer your phone.” She can hear the glare in Regina’s voice. “You know you pay me to do this right? Not the other way around. Get your money’s worth, why don’t you.” Emma rolls her eyes as she packs her laptop in her messenger bag.

Regina Mills is a fierce woman, as charming as she is aggressive. She can pretty much get anyone to do anything she wants. Emma doesn’t practice in the ways of the force, but she’s certain Regina knows a Jedi mind trick or two, and as her agent, that comes in handy.

What doesn’t come in handy is her tie to Killian. Regina’s husband Robin happens to be Killian’s cousin. Emma avoided Regina’s calls for months after the break-up, afraid she’ll have to answer the same question she’s been asking herself all afternoon. Once she finally started accepting calls again, it seemed Regina had moved on to bigger and better things: A movie deal.

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?”

“This isn’t money related, so much as a word of warning.” Regina’s tone doesn’t seem as sass-filled as before, so it’s clear she’s not the one wielding the threat. She actually sounds a bit sympathetic. “Belle and I pulled straws to see who got to break this to you, and I, unfortunately, pulled short this time around.”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden.

“Killian just moved to NYC.” Like ripping off a band-aid. Emma braces herself for pain, but is met with an absence of feeling altogether. Her knees buckle and she finds purchase against her kitchen island. “Emma?”

“When?” She whispers.

“Just a couple of weeks. He took a job with the NYC public libraries, he’s actually doing really well and has just approached Belle with an idea to get the youth excited about writing. There’s a chance you’ll run into him at the office, so I just...we both thought a heads up was necessary.”

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.”

-/-

She thought about leaving the country. At the very least, the state. She is overwhelmed, without a question just so damn overwhelmed. She has gotten so used to tears these days, she’s a little shocked she didn’t cry the minute she heard his name.

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later.

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/- “Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today.

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR.

7:45 pm

“Sorry, I’ve been reading all day.” she hasn’t talked to anyone for another two weeks. She does this far too often to still have a support system. Emma’s not sure she’d pour the same amount of effort into anyone who went radio silent every other week.

“We had a meeting at 2:30.”

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly.

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“We just did, I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Open the door.” Sure, she’s a small, sweet, meek-looking woman, but what most people don’t know about Belle is she could slay dragons with pure determination alone. In a battle of wills, she's even got Regina beat.

Emma peels herself off the sofa for the first time since noon, snuggie falling to the floor as she heads for the shower. If Bella can make the journey to her apartment, Emma can at least shower. Sure enough, 30 minutes later she’s greeting Belle at the door, a pizza in hand.

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle.

“Yeah, just...the creative process. Ya know.” Emma trails off as the hug ends. Of course, she’s not okay. ‘Okay’ people don’t stop answering their phones for weeks, they don’t stare at blank pages until their vision blurs. They don’t behave this way. This was her first shower in days.

“He was in the office yesterday,” Belle says after a long silence, just a full 3 minutes of her studying Emma from head to toe. Do her eyes just scream ‘Killian’ every time someone looks at her. “He said he called to congratulate you on the screenplay adaptation.”

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called.

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off.

“Let me finish.” Belle opens the pizza box, sliding it toward Emma. “I think you should take a vacation. Get out of the city for a while, maybe visit Storybrooke, since you know he’s not there to run into.” Emma grabs a slice of pizza, not sure when she last ate but too preoccupied with the idea of leaving the city for a while. She ran to NYC. Now she’s running back to Storybrooke. Is he just going to chase her back and forth?

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

God only knows what compelled her to do the exact opposite of what Belle suggested and show up at the publisher’s office. Probably the same thing that led her to the Harlem library a few weeks ago. She bought a new outfit. She realizes she’s barely even worn jeans over the last eight months, and now she’s in a dress and heels like she has an interview to work here. She’s wearing makeup and perfume. She’s trying her best to cover up and signs of the wreck she’s been for months.

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him.

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Swan?” no one calls her Swan. She’s paralyzed. What did she think was going to happen? How did she think she was going to react? When she paced around her apartment for three hours this morning, did she think she was going to just be okay? He would be here, he would see her and suddenly everything would be okay? “Emma…” He tries softer, less shocked, more timid.

This is the moment. In every love story, angst finds its way in, rips the reader’s heart out and although they’ve been bleeding for chapters now, they can feel nothing at this moment. Time is still, the lights are dim, and all we see is Emma and him.

He looks like himself, just more professional. He’s in well-fitted gray slacks, a navy dress shirt, his hair is longer though. He’s got more scruff on his neck than normal. His eyes are too blue, truly, for anyone to notice another inch of him. They stare at her, the same shade that’s been haunting her dreams, and she still struggles to define it. Everything. They’ve always been everything, no matter if it’s more cotton candy than blue coconut.

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

It’s suddenly so quiet but so loud. She can hear her heart hammering in her eardrums. No one says anything for a long stretch of time, maybe 2 seconds, maybe 3 hours, she can’t be sure. She just knows there is so much said in the silence.

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating.

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?”

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?”

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about.

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

“Swan was a bright young writer once” Killian grins, wickedly. “Why don’t you attend the meeting. We’re talking about a youth writing program.” He’s obviously bating her. How dare she show up on a day he’s here and act like she didn’t destroy him…

“Sure” she agrees. Partly because she’s too stubborn to back down from a challenge, and mainly because she did destroy him and there’s that whole thing about masochism she recently discovered about herself.

Belle looks beside herself. Her eyes narrow and she puffs her chest for a moment before leading them to a meeting space. Two more individuals join them, laptops ready to jot down notes and ideas. Her meetings are only ever with Belle so, for Emma, this seems like red carpet treatment.

He has amazing ideas. He loves the idea of bringing an artistic outlet to the children of Harlem. He was always so much more than a shelfer. He was always a dreamer, with these brilliant, compassionate ideas for helping everyone feel less alone, more encouraged.

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye.

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness.

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break.

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion.

“So...when we uh, when we left off, you were telling me why they broke up.” Belle sighs, knowing how awful this is. Emma smiles, hoping it lets her off the hook a little. After all, Belle told her to leave town. Emma decided to torture herself.

“Right.” Emma takes a large breath in, holding it while she pulls out her folder. Only releasing once its in Belle’s hands. Killian is studying her like he has a Chemistry final to take tomorrow and she’s the only hope. “Alysandra left Atlas for his…” She’s said it to herself. She’s made hints to others, but Killian has never had a clue. “For his own good. She’s derailed him from his journey. She’s made him less of a pirate, more of a…”

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

“She reduced him to a caregiver,” Belle answers from what’s written in the text. “Alysandra took over the journey of discovery. She was suddenly the main character.” Belle looks up at Emma with a look she’d only be able to classify as “delayed understanding.”

“In a story about Atlas, Aly becomes the focus. Everything he does, he does for her.” Emma can feel herself losing composure, eyes stinging with tears, throat drier than a desert. Somehow, someway, she finds her way to Killian’s eyes. “He wasn’t living for himself anymore. He had no purpose but to love her. And it was destroying everything.”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received.

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall.

She is less.

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before.

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone.

“Aly is an orphan” Emma explains and she can see his head start to shake, but she has to be firm. “Listen. She is not the strong-willed, rebel without a cause she pretends to be. Some days the sadness from being alone for so long stunts her. She spends hours upon hours laying awake wishing she could sleep forever. She can be a wreck, a mess, an impossible woman to love.”

Does it make it easier to talk about herself as if she’s someone else? She’s been doing it for so long, all the catharsis from writing herself into stories, just to unpack the things that plague her? Maybe she can have sympathy for anyone but her, maybe its the only way she can recognize how her behavior impacts others. Maybe the book is why she left in the first place.

“You make it impossible to love you, Emma.” She’s never seen his jaw trembling like this before. “And against all odds, through resilience and patience, I’ve found a way to do the bloody impossible. You can cover it up in characters you’ve based off of us, but this isn’t fiction. I was real. What we had...what we had was real. It wasn’t easy, but when you finally let me in, it was simple. We were happy.”

“You were happy?” She brushes tears from her cheeks as she shakes her head in disagreement. “Was it simple? To come home and find I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch? Was that the ideal relationship you dreamt of, to see all of your energy, love, and time wasted on someone who couldn’t get themselves off the couch?”

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

“Did you now?” He seems so out of breath for standing still. “Or could you have possibly woken up one day and realized the weight of a relationship was what was pinning you to the couch. Was it that Atlas cared for Aly too much, or was it the expectation that Aly would have cared for him in return? Was breaking my heart easier than just trusting me with yours?”

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do.

“Maybe there were days you thought I was miserable” he kneels before her as the ocean finds its way to this office. His eyes are ocean blue, always changing hues depending on if the sun is shining, or a storm is brewing or they’re in the deep. “But you weren’t afraid I’d die that way, always miserable, no...some part of you thought I’d leave before I let that happen. That’s the orphan I loved. You were never a mess. You were a survivalist.”

So maybe that’s their story. Aly watched Atlas change his life for her, and realized he’s going to live to regret it. Did the last seven months hurt less because it was her choice? If he would have pulled the trigger, would the bullet do that much more damage?

“I would have died miserable.”

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

This was the first time she was the one who left, and to quell the guilt of being her own worst nightmare, she forced herself to believe she was doing it for him. How many people have left her for her own good? How many times did she think that they were doing her a favor?

She’s been sitting motionless for who knows how long when Belle comes back. Killian is long gone but his words linger like those dizzy stars after a concussion. Her head is throbbing trying to make sense of it. This wasn’t just seven months spent believing the lie. Now she’s searching for the truth.

She gets anxious in monotony, like a stench in stagnant water, she is repulsed by the concept. She’s never wanted to do the same thing every day. She doesn’t want a picket fence, she wants…She does like a cute cottagey feel with a nice picket fence, she could…she could deal with a picket fence.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

There were times, she’d look at him fresh out of the shower, or in his sleep and he’d look so much younger, she’d wonder what their kids would look like. There have been times she’s searched her fingers as they moved across her keyboard and realized her ring finger would look nice with a natural stone set in some brass band. It was never anything he did that scared her. It was that she thought about more. The concept of more scared her, and the fact that she was greedy and foolish enough to want it.

Four years is a long time to not talk about marriage, but after they moved past her initial anxiety attacks over having a boyfriend, he never really pushed for much again. Moving in together was her idea. He kept enough stuff at her place and with Elsa moving abroad, it made sense to do it. That’s as far as she was going to take it. Another few years piled up and she was busy writing and he was busy being supportive of that, she recognized she was his sun. When he made sure she ate during the weeks she barely left the house, when he kept her house plants alive, when he did her laundry, reminded her to shower, and told her he’s proud of her too often to quantify, she knew she was his ship. An inanimate object, something someone can love so much and not receive the love back in return, and sure, he’s as silly as a pirate to believe a ship that holds itself together while he’s sailing on her loves him, and that’s just her role.

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

She started to get bitter and insecure. What is she contributing to this relationship? How is she making him any better? Has he even written many songs since they moved in together, has she gone to see him perform, has he performed? Some days she was so enthralled in her writing, she didn’t realize he wasn’t home all day. It was his day off and he was gone for longer than a workday. He could have been having an affair for all she knew. For all he did, he deserved to be having an affair, falling in love with someone who would be there for him, encouraging his dreams, and dedicating herself to him.

After that day, she started her drafts. Killian, you’re so much more than I deserved…Or Killian, your life paused the day you met me. And finally, after months, she left him with I need this to be over.

She’s a writer, a published author, an English major and an avid reader yet, through years and years of literature and just terrible romcoms, she never learned how to break up with someone. She never knew the words to say to him, so she said nothing. He called for three-five days, she’s not sure as she was in a sobbing-induced coma. He sent texts, he sent freaking carrier pigeons, and she locked herself in a hotel room with her laptop and her broken heart. Finally, an email came in.

Emma, I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart. Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is?

“No.” She glances over at Belle, she thinks to ask if she talked to him in the hall after he left, if he said anything, if he seemed ‘Okay’ himself but she settles back to a business mindset. Work is the only constant. “Aly left because she didn’t want to get left again.”

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.”

She hears his voice cascading down the ramp she’s sitting at the bottom of. It's been a week since Belle’s meeting and she made her way back to the library. Back to their roots. There’s so much history in this building, but the history she’s looking for lives within her. There’s a group of teenagers huddled together like they’re on a tour. Her fingers shake as she looks back down at her laptop.

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

His voice sounds increasingly close. She wants to look but if they lock eyes now, while he’s busy, she’s back to being the center of attention. Why did she come here? Does she want to get back to being the center of his attention?

“Swan?” her stomach flips violently. She really didn’t think this through. Her neck trembles as she cranes to look up at him. “Hi.” He clears his throat, the group of teenagers studying them closely from behind him.

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

“Emma Swan?” A young girl in the back pipes up. “You write Cap Zeph.” ‘Cap Zeph’ is a very popular Tumblr tag, Emma’s been told. She is now a mild-day D list celebrity with the news of the screenplay adaptation. She never published under her real name until this one, Killian’s idea.

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.”

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

“Yes, and Killian Jones worked there. He’s…evidently the inspiration. Hair as dark as night, eyes as blue as the sea he sails upon.” Every girl and one boy in the group glance at Killian, amorously. Still handsome as ever. He looks down, scratching behind his ear and chuckling dryly. She wonders if his throat burns the same way her eyes do or if this feels so natural he’s happy to fall back into it.

“Why don’t you all find some books to research personal voice from in the YA section, hmm?” He dismisses the group quickly. They share assuming glances and move to leave in pairs, surely gossiping on the way.

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay?

“What brings you?” Killian starts. He isn’t looking anywhere but her and the look in his eyes leaves frost on her flesh. His expression is so blank. She has no idea if he even wants her here after their last conversation.

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

“Christ, Swan. Stop it.” He grabs a seat across from her at the small bistro-style table she’s been working on. She closes her laptop to remove barriers between them. “I hated myself for a while. I thought maybe I should have never lost sight of who you were. You’ve always been guarded. I thought I had broken down some of your walls. I should have never assumed I tore them all down.”

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove.

“What about your walls?” Emma counters. She didn’t come for an argument, but Killian had trauma, he was damaged in theory, but always presented himself as such a well-adjusted, forgiving, kind, loving man. “Maybe you had to go brick by brick, but you knew they were there. I just watched you for years never act like anything troubled you.”

He laughs, loudly.

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it.

“Emma, my love...of course I was troubled. I still am. I drink far too much and try to solve all of my problems myself without anyone’s help.” He’s still smiling as he confesses.”Hell, I didn’t tell anyone we broke up for months and it wasn’t because I thought you were coming back. I just knew I wasn’t going to let anyone worry about me.”

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

“I spent an entire day at the marina grieving my dead brother, over a decade after losing him. Every time I went to leave and come home to you, I’d get upset again. I used to stay away until I could pull myself together.” His smile slips into something dark and Emma realizes all the ways they failed at communicating. “I loved you just enough to only show you my best parts. I never trusted our love enough to show you everything. And it’s not because you were sad every now and then.”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

“I think the term is ‘best-laid plans.’” His smile is back “Convince an author to fall in love with you, live forever. Only, with my luck, I get to read my heart get broken in the exact same way whenever I’d like. I was looking forward to your book, knowing I’d get to see us in love again.” She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

“It’s as much my book as yours.” She means that. When she first wrote the Cap Zeph short stories, she had no plan of publishing. Killian pushed for her to immortalize this, to believe in herself and sell it. When the first went well, he convinced her to meet with Regina. “I mean, you are the entire series, after all.” He shakes his head and sighs.

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

“I should get back to my writers.” He moves to stand and she wants to jump up, but she doesn’t know what words follow that. She writes fiction. It's why this book has been so damn difficult. Writing their personalities into a fantasy of pirates and fairies, that's one thing. Writing history is another. She can build on what has already happened. This in-the-moment dichotomy, will they? Won’t they? Can they make it work? It’s disturbing.

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured.

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history.

The screenplay would read ‘They share a look of longing’ and she’s not sure that’s how she’d describe it. ‘Longing’ seems more cliche and not nearly as descriptive as her quickening pulse would use.

This feels like a pivotal moment where she realizes that they don’t necessarily have to not be in love anymore. They could take a slow pace, like windchimes waiting for a breeze to bring them together. That’s all a Zephyr is.

“My number hasn’t changed.”

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am. Are you up? It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man.

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door?

“What's the escape plan this time?”

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart.

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it?

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Of course. I planned on seeing you no matter where I lived...I prepared for you to come into focus and the rest of my world to blur.” He sighs and she can hear his mattress settle as he moves. “I didn’t plan on seeing you in my library again.”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.”

They talk til 4am. She’s rethought every word she’s said these last seven months. She rarely moves without tension tugging at the back of her neck. Her thoughts are never clear and simple, not since she left. And here, in the darkness of her bedroom, with nothing but a familiar voice on the other end, she hasn’t second-guessed a word.

-/- She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word.

But he asks her out for drinks afterward and suddenly she’s all he’s focused on, laughing about old times, discussing the interesting twist in literature they’ve both read recently. She asks him if he’s written any songs and he beams brightly when he tells her ‘only recently, Love.’

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

“Are you dating him?” Belle watches her from the doorway as Killian moves down the hall to his meeting. They came to the office together this time, maybe a peck on the cheek occurred before his departure, and maybe Belle witnessed it.

“I don’t know.” Emma tries not to think logistically about what’s going on. It’s been 4 weeks, she’s written 8 chapters and Aly is about to find Atlas again. “For the first time since I started, I know how book 4 will end.”

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it's beautiful. From tragedy to triumph is the Captain Zephyr way.” Belle hands the work back to Emma with a sad smile. “What makes it different this time? True love always finds its way back to one another, but how do we know they won’t split up again?” Emma knows this isn’t about the novel. They haven’t yet gotten back together to split up.

Does she know they’ll never separate again? Of course not. Killian is dedicated, devoted like a priest to the cloth. She is very aware that his heart is not yet healed, but eager to love her all over again. A few dates and late-night phone calls don’t make forever a promise anyone could keep.

“We don’t.”

-/- He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph. “Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous.

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.”

It's the look on his face when he studies her apartment that makes her remember they broke up. As if she had forgotten months of trying to hold herself together, he reminds her that she broke him when his face floods with that loneliness.

“Killian...”

“This is a very nice place you have.” his eyes are darting from one corner to the next, lingering on the most significant differences. “So ‘New York’ it's almost as if you’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls.

“It’s just a place to lay my head.” He glances back at her with something almost accusatory when he says “You’ve gone ahead and made yourself a home.” And it has never felt like that, not once, when she was hiding away, when she would run home to it.

This place, this city has always been a foster home she feels like she’ll get kicked out of if she gets too comfortable. It wasn’t like their home together. Their home felt like roots. Here she feels like an implant that won’t take to the soil.

“The designer furnishings don’t mean shit to me.” Emma moves to the bookshelf, all new and shiny but it's just a box to keep what matters most. “Only what I’ve come here with is all I care to take. She pulls out a few books, “Wuthering Heights,” “The Book Thief,” and “Emma.” She hands them to him knowing they were always his.

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand.

“What do you need to not resent this place? To know I have everything you left tucked away in all these new places?” she motions for him to follow her to the bedroom and he slowly drifts behind, setting the novels on the coffee table. Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“I only drink whiskey you like. I only sleep in your t-shirts.” she sits on her bed, reaching for his hand to pull him down with her. “I don’t know what we are, and I can’t promise you I’m not a tragedy waiting to happen. I just know that I haven’t been able to erase an inch of you.”

He kisses her then. It's not on her terms, and he has only ever waited for everything to be on her terms. So when he pulls her in, hand cupping the back of her head, mouth open and adventurous, she gasps.

His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer to him, her hands pressed flat against his chest as his tongue enters her mouth with desperation. She fists his shirt in her hands, pressing even closer to him as her tongue reacts in kind. It has been the longest year without him and he’s kissing her like they’re running out of time.

All at once they’re falling as he lays her down on her back, continuing to claim her mouth as his property. Her hands start moving, tugging and fumbling with buttons and zippers and just much too much fabric for her liking. When she moves for his briefs he tugs back from her lips.

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear.

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before.

-/-

They spend the next few months together and she bangs out the rest of the book in record time. Regina and Belle throw her a submission party. She dodges questions about their future and tries to focus on the book.

“So Aly and Atlas together again,” Robin questions her as Killian returns with a drink for the both of them. She knows he’s not talking about the story. Killian has been very careful to not assume much about their status. Both of them have just stuck to ‘seeing where it goes.’

But it's not like they just met six months ago. They have history, they have four years of standing together at parties and being a couple. Do they have the luxury of casually dating? If all happiness is fleeting, do they dive face-first in it or wade in the shallow end.

“I love Killian.” She says firmly. It’s never not been true from the moment she realized it, in a foreign library miles and miles away from home. He is not easily erased, and it has become glaringly obvious it will only destroy her to try. “I always have and I always will.” Killian’s eyes have never been so doe-like. She’s never been so bold.

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

“And I love Emma, if it isn’t ardently clear. She’s everything to me and I’m happy just to exist in her life.” He raises his whiskey to her and she follows suit like a gentlemen’s agreement has just been formed: To love one another without concern of what it means. As she takes a sip she realizes what everything means. He hasn’t pushed aside his dreams in the slightest this go around. He’s been focused and driven, ambitious and busy. Somehow, he’s still considering her ‘everything.’ Maybe what she thought was sacrifice all that time ago was really just love.

So they stay in love.

-/-

Another year goes by and the first film is set to release. Although Emma and Killian still pay rent at their separate apartments, they spend every night together. Sometimes it's downtown in Killian’s studio, and other nights it's in the heart of the city at Emma’s. Commitment isn’t measured by who gave what up. It has shifted to who stays. They both do, and every day they make the decision to stay, when it's 5 months since Killian has slept alone or 10 months since Emma had dinner without him. They stay together with one promise in mind. They love each other. And for as long as Love is Present, they will choose each other.

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters.

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing.

She thought she’d never write their break up.

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

-/-

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed.

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

-/-

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She thinks of his face.

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again.

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career.

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden.

“When?” She whispers.

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.”

-/-

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later.

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/-

“Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today.

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR.

7:45 pm

“We had a meeting at 2:30.”

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly.

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle.

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called.

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off.

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him.

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating.

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?”

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?”

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about.

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye.

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness.

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break.

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion.

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received.

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall.

She is less.

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before.

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone.

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do.

“I would have died miserable.”

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

Finally, an email came in.

Emma,

I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart.

Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is?

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.”

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.”

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay?

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove.

He laughs, loudly.

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it.

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured.

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history.

“My number hasn’t changed.”

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am.

Are you up?

It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man.

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door?

“What's the escape plan this time?”

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart.

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it?

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.”

-/-

She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word.

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return.

“You don’t like it?”

“We don’t.”

-/-

He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph.

“Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous.

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.”

“Killian...”

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls.

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand.

Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear.

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before.

-/-

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

So they stay in love.

-/-

#kenya writes #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #one shot #love is fiction #love is history #honestly #i forgot how to tag #I forgot everything #but I really plan on writing again #and I need to put myself out there #300 notes is a lot #oh this is definitely not beta'd #I own like ALL the mistakes and you know what #this might be one big mistake

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