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imagineyourworld · 3 years

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Misunderstanding

Echo x Genderneutral!Reader

Summary: After the war Echo runs into you and Rex, who he mistakes for your husband and the father of your children

Warnings: Mention of death and war

Check out more of my work here

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The moment Echo saw you a thousand memories came rushing back: Your soft hands on his cheek. Your lips on his lips. Your lips on his skin. How your skin tasted under his lips. Your careless laughter as he carried you home after one too many drinks. That time you showed him how to brew the perfect cup of calming tea. The way you said his name and how your voice sounded when you told him you loved him. The happy smile when the two of you reunited after his supposed death. And the sad smile when you told him that you couldn’t go with him. That had been almost three years ago now. At first both of you had made an effort to talk every day, then, as the war got busier, every other day until it was every week, once a month and then, a little more than two years ago, the two of you had said your last goodbyes. But now here you were, looking not a day older, and even more beautiful, than the last time Echo had seen you. He took a moment to just look at you. Your hair was a bit shorter, maybe a shade of two darker as well, and your style had changed. During your relationship he had mostly seen you in your scrubs at work or sweats at home, now you looked more comfortable in your clothes, more like yourself. Too late, only after he had already called your name and you had turned around, did Echo notice that you were holding the hand of a little girl. Her curious eyes looked him up and down before turning to you. She said something Echo couldn’t hear, but he did see the smile that lit up your face as you walked closer, pulling the girl along with you. “Echo, I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”, you asked. You still said his name the same way, your smile was the same and your eyes lit up like they always did when you looked at him, but all Echo could focus on was the little girl, who was staring at him. Was she yours? The daughter you had with someone else? Someone who had replaced Echo in your heart? He should have known this would happen, it had to eventually, but that didn’t help the pain, not when Echo himself had thought of you ever day for the past three years, when he never stopped loving you. “I... I decided that it might be time for me to settle, and since most of my brothers have made their lives here on Coruscant I thought I would do the same.” Echo didn’t add that there had also been the small hope that you might still be living on Coruscant. “So you’re gonna stay here? That’s amazing, we’ll have to catch up some time soon”, you said, the smile on your face growing with every word. Echo just nodded. What else was he supposed to say? Luckily he didn’t have to say anything else, because the girl took the opportunity to insert herself into the conversation. “Who are you?”, she asked, her expression both curious and vary. You looked down at her with a stern expression but fondness in your eyes. “Leia, you could’ve asked a bit more nicely. But this is Echo”, you told her. Your eyes went away from the girl to focus on Echo. “He’s... and old... friend.” Yes, the words stung, but Echo understood that it was probably the best way to introduce your daughter to your ex boyfriend. “And Echo, this is Leia, sh-”, you started, but were soon interrupted by a small voice calling out the girl’s name. Another child, a boy, appeared, with a big smile on his face and a paper bag in his hand. “Guess what I have!”, he said with a grin, holding the bag out for the girl to peek into. Echo was now looking at the boy. He didn’t seem to be older or younger than the girl, so maybe he wasn’t another child of yours but Leia’s friend. Though they did look somewhat alike. “Luke, you can’t run off like that”, a familiar voice called from behind Echo. He refused to turn around, as long as he didn’t see who was coming up behind him, who clearly belonged to you and the children, a childish part of himself told him that it wouldn’t be true. But your words confirmed his fear. “Rex, it’s fine”, you laughed. “Luke’s safe, he was only ahead of you by like a meter.” Echo now looked at his brother. He looked a bit older than the last time he saw him, probably due to their rapid aging, but other than that he didn’t seem to have changed at all, still caring and commanding and loving. Echo closed his eyes for a moment, he couldn’t bear to look at you and Rex and your children, because from the way the four of you interacted he could tell that you belonged together. Of course he had known that you would move on, though a small irrational part of him had hoped that you might wait for him to come back to you someday. But why did you have to move on with his brother? And not just any brother, one he had always been close to. And how could Rex do this, he knew more than anyone, other than Fives at least, how much Echo had always loved you. Of course Echo knew that he should be happy for you, and part of him was, but seeing you and your family, seeing your happy smiles and the love in your eyes, just killed him. “Echo, vod, it’s so good to see you. How have you been?”, Rex asked as he put a hand on Echo’s shoulder and squeezed affectionately. Before Echo could answer you interrupted him with an apologetic smile. “Rex, we have to meet Padmé in 10 minutes, we better hurry. But Echo, how about you come by our apartment around 7 this evening and we’ll catch up?”

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Echo had debated whether to actually go and see you, but in the end he decided that he might regret it more if he backed out. Plus Hunter had basically pushed him out the door and left him no other choice. So here he was, in front of your apartment, which was only a couple of blocks away from the one you had lived in during the war. His fist had barely touched the door when you already pulled it open and ushered Echo inside. For a moment the two of you just stood in the hallway, looking at each other and not saying anything. “Rex just went to buy a bottle of wine, he should be back shortly”, you said as you lead Echo further into the apartment. He soon found himself in a larger room, which served as both living room and dining room, with the kitchen attached and only separated by a kitchen island. As he looked around he recognized most of the furniture from your old apartment, the one he had spent countless hours in, as well as photographs both old and new with many familiar faces in them. A couple were just you and Rex, but most of them had General Skywalker, Commander Tano, General Kenobi or Senator Amidala in them, along with many of his brothers. He also spotted his favourite picture, the one had had carried a copy of wherever he went, of him kissing your cheek while Fives enveloped the two of you in a hug. He was surprised to see it hanging in your living room. But what surprised him even more was how clean everything was. You had always been a tidy person, but he had suspected that children would still leave the place a bit messy. Speaking of... “Are Luke and Leia going to join us?”, he asked. A surprised look crossed your face before you shook your head. “They’re with Padmé and Anakin.” Echo nodded. Maybe it was for the best not to have the children around, the dinner would be awkward and they might only make it worse. “How nice of the General and Senator Amidala to babysit.” You stopped pouring water in your glass and looked at Echo in surprise. “They’re not babysitting, the twins are their kids. Rex and I were the ones who were babysitting this morning.” It was safe to say that Echo had not been expecting this revelation. He had been so sure that you and Rex were the parents. But his little moment of relief was cut short when he realized that this didn’t change anything. You and Rex were still a couple, you still lived together and had a life together, a life Echo had no place in. “Are you planning on having kids then?” The question was out before Echo could stop himself. This was none of his business, it might even be better if he didn’t know. But he just had to know, having children was the one thing about your future the two of you had never talked about, had never dared to even think about in the middle of a war, but that hadn’t stopped Echo from hoping to one day raise a family with you, and he had to know if his brother was now living that unspoken dream. “I’m not opposed to the idea, but who would I have a child with? I’m not really fond of the idea of doing this on my own”, you admitted with a nervous laugh. Echo tore his eyes away from the plate he had been fixating on to look at you. Try as he might, he couldn’t read your expression. “With Rex, of course. He’s your”, he started before stopping for a moment to scan your fingers for a ring, when he didn’t find one he continued. “Boyfriend. Rex is your boyfriend.” Saying the words out loud hurt, more than Echo would ever want to admit, but it was your laughter that actually broke his hear, and your words that mended it again. “Rex is not my boyfriend, he’s my friend. Probably my best friend and maybe more like a brother, but most certainly not my boyfriend.” After everything he had been through there wasn’t much that could render Echo speechless, but this confession could. It took him a moment, and a thorough scan of your serious expression, for him to formulate his next sentence. “But the two of you live together”, he finally said. For a moment you didn’t say anything. Then you took his hand, your skin still as soft and warm as he remembered, and led him over to your couch. Softly you pulled on his arm to get him to sit next to you, closer than he would have sat while still thinking that you were in love with his brother, but not as close as he really wanted. “Rex and I are friends, nothing more. We live together because no matter how much some politicians try, clones still have little rights and it was easier for him to move in with me than to get his own place. But Echo, I never, ever, though about Rex in any romantic way, nor he about me. I... There has only ever been one person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, one person I wanted to marry and have children with and grown old with, and that person is you. Echo, it’s always been you and it always will be. I loved you ever since you carried Fives into the medbay with his broken leg and I never stopped, not when I though you were dead, not when you went away with the Bad Batch. And seeing you again only showed me how much I missed you, how much I don’t want to let you go again. But of course I understand that you’ve probably moved on.” There were a million things Echo might have said, but for now he decided to forgo any explanations. Instead he put one of his hands on your waist and the other behind your head. Slowly he leaned closer, giving you every chance to pull way, but instead you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a gentle kiss. “I love you. Always have, always will”, he whispered against your lips before you reconnected in another kiss. The two of you were so busy with kisses and declarations of love that you didn’t notice the door opening and closing and Rex telling you that he’d spend the night at Cody’s to give the two of you a bit of privacy. But you didn’t notice and you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were together again, you still loved each other and the galaxy was at peace, giving you time to rebuild your relationship and relishing in your love.

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This is short and unoriginal and corny, but after today’s episode I just had to write something about Echo and the idea of him misunderstanding your relationship with one of his brothers just popped into my head, and due to Echo’s obvious love for and trust in Rex in this episode it just had to be him

#echo x reader #echo imagine #tbb echo x you #arc trooper echo x reader #arc trooper echo imagine #echo x you #arc trooper echo x you #tbb echo x reader #tbb echo imagine

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notsowrites · 3 years

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Untitled 3x01 Coda #2

I truly loved all the Forlex in the episode, and the Miluca scene was so soft - but hello?? RNM?? Where is my Malex? I demand to be fed. So I guess I will just have to write it my damn self.

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Alex watched as Michael's truck pulled into the junkyard, grinding to a halt next to his SUV. They hadn't spoken since he'd gotten back, and it was probably time. Especially with everything that'd happened with Forrest, the revelation about Deep Sky and his subsequent decision regarding them... it was a lot to process. He'd lit the fire pit when he's arrived, knowing it might be a while before Michael returned, and had settled into one of the chairs, enjoying the cool breeze of the night and finally allowing himself a moment to think about Forrest.

A moment to wonder if he's made the right decision, if he should have gotten on that bus. If down the line somewhere he was going to regret the path that he'd now set himself upon. He couldn't stop thinking about Kyle's advice, about the loneliness and isolation he'd be getting himself into by allowing himself to be recruited into their ranks.

Michael looked tired, that much Alex could see even through the darkness. His curls were wild, like he'd been running his hands through them for hours, his black cowboy hat nowhere to be found, and Alex wondered what he'd missed in the 12 hours since he'd been back in town.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

No, Alex thought, he wouldn't. It wasn't like they'd left in a great place either when he'd made the decision a year ago that he was going to clean up his father's mess so he could finally move on, move past everything regarding his fucked up family history.

"Didn't expect my night to end up here either," he replied, trying to sound friendly, and knowing he wasn't completely succeeding.

Michael stopped next to one of the empty chairs, taking in the lit fire, and nodded, his hands tightening on the metal of the back. "And where did you think you'd end up?"

Alex shrugged, looking away. He didn't know how much he wanted to tell Michael - did he tell him he'd been thinking he could make a good go of it with Forrest? That he almost got on a bus out of town with him?

"Have you ever heard of something called Deep Sky?"

The laugh Michael let out cut right through to Alex's core. He could feel the anger, the frustration - every bit of Michael's emotions as he dropped into the chair in front of him.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Michael pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket and took a generous sip, shaking his head. As Alex watched, he realized how good alcohol sounded right about now, and maybe that was what he needed to do, despite the beers he'd had at the Pony earlier with Kyle.

"Is that-"

Michael narrowed his eyes at him. "It's acetone."

After another moment, Michael stood up, tucking the flask away and pulling open the door to the trailer, disappearing inside with a slam of the metal door. Barely a moment later, it was opening again, Michael reappearing with two bottles of beer in his hand, holding one out for Alex.

"Thanks. It's been-" he sighed, realizing it was inevitable he'd be telling Michael everything that had happened to him. "It's been a night."

"You wanna talk about it?"

This was still new territory for them. Even after all the time they'd spent together uncovering the truth about Michael's mother, Alex couldn't deny his absence over the last year had probably hurt Michael. It hadn't been that they hadn't talked, hadn't had stilted, awkward phone conversations as he'd dug into Project Shepherd and his father's involvement, reporting on anything he might think Michael found useful. But talking, really opening up to one another, was still something they didn't do.

"Do you want to hear me tell you that I almost left town with Forrest?"

Michael shook his head. "But you're here."

"Yeah," Alex agreed. "I'm here."

"So what happened?" Michael immediately followed up, taking a sip of his beer.

Alex bit his lip, carefully considering his words. "There's an organization called Deep Sky - they want to recruit me. And there's a part of me - the part that has been involved in trying to figure out what Project Shepherd was doing - that wants to let them."

"But?" Michael knew him too well.

"But," Alex continued, "it would mean secrecy. It would mean cutting myself off from everyone."

"Sounds like you've already made up your mind."

"That's why I'm here, I guess," Alex realized. "I haven't. And I didn't really know - I still haven't decided."

"I'm not making that decision for you, Alex."

"I'm not-" Alex stopped, feeling himself get annoyed at Michael inferring that he was unable to make the choice himself. "I'm not asking you to."

"Then what, Alex? Why come here and tell me all of this?"

He watched as Michael finished off the beer in his hand, dropping the bottle to the ground and taking flash back out from his jacket.The words were stuck in his throat, to tell Michael that there was a part of him that wanted to do this for him. For Michael.

"This could be my chance to learn things my father never could.” He paused, knowing he had to answer Michael’s question too. “And because I still want you to know."

Silence fell between them immediately, and Alex noticed the way Michael's shoulder relaxed slightly, and he fell back against his chair.

"I came to the bus stop today," Michael said, his voice quiet, his chin tucked into his chest so he couldn't look at Alex. As if the words he was saying were something he didn't want to admit, didn't want to talk about. Alex didn't understand it - in all their years together, Michael had never held back from him. "I thought-" He cut himself off, and Alex watching him shake his head, looking away, making sure he couldn't catch Alex's gaze.

But Alex needed to know. Michael had been there? At the bus stop? Had he been so focused on Forrest that he hadn't noticed?

"I saw you," Michael continued, "-you and Forrest. So I left."

"You could have said hi."

Michael shrugged. "You looked busy."

All those years ago, when he'd left Roswell for basic as a scared and angry seventeen year old, he's been furious that Michael had gotten himself arrest and locked up. That he'd had to leave town without saying good-bye. It had been a deep hurt that had lingered for years with him, something he couldn't understand. Why had stealing hubcaps been more important?

And what could he even say to that? That Michael had shown up in that way - was he trying to right the wrong of that day more than a decade again?

But they weren't - they weren't anything anymore. Except maybe friends.

"We broke up," Alex replies instead of telling Michael he wanted him to be there at the bus stop. Instead of admitting that Michael is the only one he's ever wanted to greet him when he's returned to Roswell. Because Michael is the only person who has ever made Roswell feel like home, like he could be happy here.

"You and-"

Alex nodded. "That's how I found out about Deep Sky."

Michael glared at him, processing his words. "He was using you?"

"No!" Alex shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

Silence fell between them, the only sound crickets in the distance and the fire crackling between them in the pit. It felt nice, it felt comfortable. He wanted more of it, he wanted to do this more often.

“If I do this,” he starts, a plan devising in his mind. “I don’t want to be cut off completely. That much isolation - it can’t be good.”

Michael nodded. “So what are you going to do?”

“If they’re as desperate to recruit me as Forrest made it sound, maybe I don’t have to.” It was possible he knew, to have his own demands for his cooperation. Especially if Deep Sky was this interested in him. Perhaps he could have communication with someone, perhaps he could negotiate his won way to not be completely cut off from everyone. “I don’t want - I don’t think-”

The words stuck in his throat. Why was it so hard to say the things he wanted? He wanted Michael to be the one he told his findings to. Anything he may come across that would help him understand his own history, his people, where he came from - Alex wanted to find those answers for him.

"I meant what I said, you know," he continued, finding his voice finally. "About being friends."

"About starting over?"

Alex nods. Because that's always been their problem, hasn't it? He knows everything about Liz and Maria and Kyle from their birthdays to the favorite foods and drinks but he didn't know all those little thing about Michael. And it feels important somehow that he find them out. That he really learn who Michael is.

Because if there is one thing the past two years has shown him is it's not going to change anything between them. He's always going to love Michael.

He doesn't quite understand it, what it is about their connection that is so strong that even now, even after everything they've been through, that they're still drawn together. And maybe he can find answers with Deep Sky.

But what he does know is that he wants Michael to be the one at the bus stop waiting for him next time. Wants to know that Michael is there.

What he doesn't know is how long it may take for them to work their way back, but it's not something he plans on jumping into. Not with the fight with Forrest still so fresh.

But one day, maybe some day soon.

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #mentions of forlex #notso writes fanfic

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1

A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.

Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past. Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k

I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.

A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital.

But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.

Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer.

Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.

But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid.

To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?

I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing.

My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner.

Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England.

“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place.

“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return.

“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.”

I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.

Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.

Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s.

I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do.

See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order.

However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore.

It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream.

As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia.

But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would.

No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.

I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was.

My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out.

“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second.

“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned.

She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all.

I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand.

Someone important from my past was here tonight.

As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.

“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind.

I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too.

“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive.

My eyes.

“Here, take my jacket.”

My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.

“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping.

“Spencer Reid?”

I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for.

I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then?

But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.

He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.

“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.”

“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me.

He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.”

His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid.

In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look.

The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing.

“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first.

“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.”

I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer.

“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body.

To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.”

Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories.

11 Years Ago ...

I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities.

My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.

There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.

It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me.

To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy.

Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been.

I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’

But of course, I never did.

As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands.

“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion.

I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.

With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.

I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine.

As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years.

Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain.

Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me.

So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time.

While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that.

He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.

After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us.

“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it.

“So, who are you here for?”

For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.”

It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties.

“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?

“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.”

Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?”

“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive?

“Jeez, you must be really smart.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.

Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went.

“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.”

Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more.

“What is your IQ right now?”

“131.”

My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was.

“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”

I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there.

“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”

“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”

“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”

You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me.

Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored.

How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring.

That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.

“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted.

I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there.

Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist.

“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him.

“Likewise.”

I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!”

He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!”

I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name.

“What’s yours?” He yelled back.

I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time.

“Next time?”

With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away.

“Bye, Spencer!”

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me.

- Present Time -

By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order.

“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal.

When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?”

Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders.

“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.”

I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize.

Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.

I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes.

But that’s not the worst part.

The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her.

“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.”

“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage.

All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

_ _ _

After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace.

I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.

Now, I had to live with that.

“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.”

Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer.

I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”

I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back.

“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence.

“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.”

He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being.

“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell.

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”

The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded.

“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.”

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed.

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.”

I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition.

“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.”

Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further.

“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-”

“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.”

His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.”

With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?”

Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about.

Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions.

“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.

The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends.

“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away.

It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily.

“Do you have any guesses of it could be?”

He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”

I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”

He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.”

“Nope.”

“Nicole.”

“Nope.”

“Gertrude.”

“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”

“Olive.”

“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell.

“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed.

“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued.

“Francis.”

“Okay, maybe this is impossible.”

My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed.

“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).”

He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”

“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently.

My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something.

“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”

And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off.

The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything.

Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear.

I love Spencer.

If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair.

One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!”

He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.

“You love me?”

There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession.

In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter.

“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?

In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door.

“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-”

He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him.

I learned, that day, that you do only live once.

But you can die over and over again.

From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was.

Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”

Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else.

“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.”

He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.”

I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago.

“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing.

There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own.

His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust.

“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back.

“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.”

The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard.

Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.

It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion.

No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it.

When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine.

Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy.

He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle.

He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it.

He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking.

I love you.

The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat.

“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.”

He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was.

Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.

He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.

Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out.

Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom.

But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.

Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.

“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.

“Looking for this?” He teased.

All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back.

“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”

No arguments from him.

Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask?

Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself.

_ _ _

I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth.

Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable.

Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip.

It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory.

At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again.

And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did.

Six Weeks Later ...

“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?”

She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.”

It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently.

My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago.

What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself.

To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly.

I was pregnant.

Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater.

I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess.

I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them.

“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection.

And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain.

So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.

I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth.

“I think I might be pregnant.”

You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head.

“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy.

“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too.

“Well, have you taken a test?”

I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?”

She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing.

“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.”

We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now.

When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time.

“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked.

“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.”

I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face.

“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.

“Well, first, what do you want it to say?”

That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”

“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?”

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire.

Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.”

We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace.

“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.”

Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.”

Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face.

“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!”

And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed.

Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade.

What about Spencer?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

PART 2 HERE!

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floralseokjin · 3 years

Text

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up.

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years. But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning.

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course.

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.”

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said.

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.

Unknown (9:32am) Hi Y/N, It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up. Regards, Seokjin

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed.

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him.

You (9:43am) Of course, send the details. I trust your taste!

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself. Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly…

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you.

Seokjin (9:50am)�� The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30. Seokjin

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother).

You (9:52am) I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later!

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it.

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely. He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back.

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to.

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again.

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious.

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form.

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea…

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing.

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man.

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately.

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly.

“Hey,” you greeted back.

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment.

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that."

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway.

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.”

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous.

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #mls:drabbles #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

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twilightprince101 · 3 years

Text

Packmates

So I've been needing to do some Flash Fiction stuff for my writing class recently and I've had this original idea in my head for a long while at this point. It was HEAVILY inspired by Lera Lynn's "Wolf Like Me" (thanks again Delta for showing me this album) and it's one of the few things I feel REAL proud putting out! So woe! Gay and depressed werewolves be upon ye!

“The Blood Moon draws near.”

“I’m ready.”

“You have said so often this night.”

“I’m aware.”

“Why do you repeat those words so?”

“Is ‘because you asked’ not the right choice?”

“There is a lack of conviction in your voice.”

“I’m tired, you know that by now.”

“But what is it you refer to?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Is it the exhaustion that comes from a great hunt, one that seeps through your limbs and gives you aches that spare your quarter?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Or is it the dreariness of fog that clouds your mind, seeps your vitality drop by drop until naught an ounce of bloodlust remains?”

“That too, I suppose.”

“...Your conviction wavers.”

“Can it not be both?”

“Exhaustion, though inconvenient, is a natural calling deep within oneself. It is a hunter’s blessing in disguise, as one cannot pursue their prey if not at full strength. Dreariness is the fatigue of the soul, an infestation of hopelessness. Neither are permanent, though the latter plagues those inflicted with insidious thoughts.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“...no, I did not.”

“...”

“...Do you wish to rest before the hour comes?”

“Wouldn’t that be pointless? Considering ‘the gift’ and all that I’m going to get?”

“Perhaps, but have you not gone to great lengths to let me join in pointless activities with you over these long years?”

“.....well, can’t argue with that I guess.”

“Take reprieve in my fur, the wind bares its frost-bitten teeth this deep in the woods.”

“Oh yeah, I guess this’ll be the last chance we really get to do it like this huh?”

“Should you join us there shall be many chances. But yes, if you wish, this will be the last.”

“Yeah, thanks Katey.”

“...”

“...Do you remember what it’s like?”

“Hm?”

“Without fur, I mean. Do you remember what it feels like?”

“What thought led to this question?”

“I dunno, just…”

“...Echoes of memories come and pass, sensations of touch that are not there.”

“Do you miss it at all?”

“My memories have not faded, Jakie. Though they ebb and flow from my mind, they remain. I still remember it all.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that many times.”

“...I do remember that time long ago, when I did not bear this fur or wear these claws. I remember the cold that stung our skin, the scrapes and cuts that adorned our hairless hands.”

“Do you only remember the bad things? Or have those ebbed from your mind as well?”

“I recall them as well, Jackie. The feeling of grass pricking against our bare feet as we ran through these woods as one. The currents brushing against us as we fought the tides of the sea. I especially remember that day you had fallen into a gardener’s crop and had me accompany you in that mess you created.”

“Pfft, really now? That’s one of the things you still remember?”

“Though my mind has changed, my memories have not.”

“.....and?”

“While a part of me does reminisce of those days back home, this change of mine has given me new blessings. My claws assure me in the face of danger, my fur assures me in the face of nature. In my life, this is one of the few times I feel secure in myself.”

“Do you… feel better though? Happier? Will I feel...?”

“.........I cannot say.”

“...”

“...” “...”

“......my apologies. I have… ruined the mood, as I believe you phrase it.”

“No, no it’s okay… actually, now that I think about it, when did you first start getting so poetic?”

“Pardon me?”

“This whole... thing where you talk really fancy and in metaphors. I recognized you starting a while ago, but did you have to read through a dictionary? Or does transforming include suddenly becoming shakespearean?”

“I don’t believe that’s the right term, but yes, to my knowledge this happened gradually since I was given this gift.”

“So then, do you think when I transform tonight the same thing will happen to me? Like you bite me then I have all of medieval theater beamed into my head? Will I be The Shakespeare of Wolves?”

“It is likely, though I will not deny, it would be a shock. I have grown quite fond of the way you speak, compared to my packmates. It is akin to, say, witnessing a fish leap from a flowing stream.”

“You did that one on purpose, didn’t you?!”

“Perhaps I did, perhaps not~"

“Oooh you better watch out, when I join the pack I’m going to destroy you in the weekly poetry slams!”

“Heh, we do not have ‘slams of poetry’ where I will go. Most of our focus is turned to the hunt, though perhaps you could make a fine diplomat between packs.”

“Well, maybe I could bring poetry slams to the pack. We both could! You didn’t go to many but you still know what they’re like, what’s stopping us?”

“That would be… the moon. I do not believe recreation would become much of a priority to you once you shift tonight. Especially for you, considering the ritual.”

“Oh. Yeah, right.”

“...”

“.......”

“...........”

“...you can still leave Jakie.”

“You know I can’t.”

“And why is that?”

“You know why.”

“What of August, who had assisted us in Maplecrest? Or your bloodmate, here in Bloomfield?”

“It’s not me needing somewhere to go Kate. I know that they’d both welcome me back.”

“Then why do you persi-”

“I thought you said your memories were all still there.”

“...I have not forgotten our promise, Jakie.”

“Then you have your answer. I didn’t leave you back then, I’m not leaving you here.”

“...Jakie.”

“Don’t.”

“I am grateful for your assistance all these years, for your companionship. You have offered me comfort, companionship and assistance without question.”

“I said stop, Katie.”

“I shall always be grateful, however you must ask yourself whether or not you should continue to uphold these vows. If the Katie you loved--”

“What’s your problem?! I thought the whole thing with you is that you want to bite people, change people!”

“We do not offer this gift to all those we encounter. Only those who we find--”

“‘A spark of devotion,’ yeah I get it you’ve said that thousands of times already! So then why is it only with me you try to talk someone out of it?!”

“Beca-”

“And don’t say lack of conviction. I said I’ve wanted this for months now, that’s the whole reason we’re here!”

“...............”

“Well?!”

“I… ponder if you would believe me.”

“Spit it out.”

“...because I have always seen you as my packmate.”

“..............”

“...since my mind has changed, I have gained new desires. Whatever old ties I had have long been cut. Yet despite my change you’ve been by my side. My fur warms my body--you have warmed my soul, and that sensation shall never fade.”

“...you didn’t answer me.”

“......Should you accept my gift tonight you shall change eternally. Your conviction here lies with me, but should you accept our gift your soul will be tied to the hunt. I do not wish for you to change with your mind lingering on regrets of what could have been. I respect you as a packmate, Jakie. I wish for your choice to be true.”

“Don’t you get it? What I want is to be with you! You’re my friend, I’ve helped you all this time, I love you!”

“But through these years, have you been happy?”

“..........”

“You say this is your duty, it may be what you desire. But protecting me, has it made you happy? Can you look upon the fields of missed opportunities that have passed without a hint of longing?”

“............”

“I have never needed protection, you know as well as I. These past years of devotion, it has helped you survive. But what I yearn for is for you to live. Abandoning your own self… Do you believe you will be happy then?”

“...........”

“.......god damn it. You never made things easy, did you?”

“I am who I am now, Jakie. I cannot give you more than that.”

“........I don’t want to leave you. I don’t even know if I can. I’ve spent so long helping you I don’t know if I… know anything else. What would I even do?”

“I… do not know. But I have seen your conviction these past years--you have several paths ahead of you. Whatever you may choose, I have faith in you. You shall always be my packmate.”

“.......yeah. Yeah…. Yeah.”

“..........”

“...............”

“...the Blood Moon has nearly reached its peak.”

“.......could we just sit together, just for a bit longer?”

“Of course.”

“....thank you.”

“.........”

“.........I love you, Katie.”

“I love you too, Jakie.”

#original writing #werewolves #my writing #blood moon #lycanthropy #depression #codependency #twi talks #gay werewolves #((haven't posted much original stuff on here huh #wanna try to do more of this if I can))

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dragonologist-in-the-making · 3 years

Text

Remember Me

Based on THIS song

Pairing: Draco x fem!reader

Summary: Draco and reader’s perfect summer afternoon fell apart as Draco’s task for their sixth year at Hogwarts gets revealed.

A/N: coming in hot with some angst (very unusual for me I know!) I wrote this very quickly and I haven’t proof read it so pls pls pls let me know if you like!! It’s the first time I’ve really written angst on this blog so any feedback would be appreciated!

Warnings: Plot of Half-Blood Prince, talks of murder, neglecting parents, make-out session, toxic relationship (unsure if this counts but including it just in case)

Wordcount: 1053

…

The late-August heat was thick in the Malfoy Manner, as Draco and Y/N hid away in a corner, enjoying their last few stolen moments together before they headed back to the crowded halls of Hogwarts.

“Are you sure we won’t get caught?” she asked, breaking away from their passionate kiss momentarily, sighing as Draco moved his attention to her neck.

“Mother and Father are too wrapped up in their so-called work, and the servants know by now not to bother me.” He hastily replied, moving his lips back to hers to continue what they had started. “Besides, it’s a bit late for you to be asking this question, isn’t it?” he smirked, sparing a glance down to the floor where her shirt lay discarded.

She blushed, recoiling a little at his dismissive treatment of those who had raised him, his parents always being too absent to do most of the work. That, or they didn’t care enough to be involved, she thought sharply.

“Draco…” she trailed, pushing him away from her slightly. His playful pout turned more serious when he saw the anxiety in her eyes, teeth lightly chewing her bottom lip.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” He asked softly, using the nickname he knew made her insides go all soft.

The palm of his hand was cradling her cheek ever-so-gently, his thumb rubbing feather light circles in a way that made her heart flutter from more than just the nerves running through her veins.

“I’m just worried about going back to school. Everyone knows about your parents’… activities now and I don’t want us to get caught up in all that. I just want to graduate already and get away from it all, I don’t ever want to hear that noseless freak’s name again.” She sighed, anxiety not easing as she saw Draco furrow his brow at her words.

“It’s not that easy, Y/N”, he said, taking a step back from her and starting to button up his shirt. She slid off the desk she had been perched on, picking up her own shirt and sliding her arms through, suddenly feeling exposed and shivering despite the August air. “I’m a Malfoy. There’s a reputation I have to uphold.”

As he turned away with an almost unnoticeable shake of his head, she started wringing her hands, wondering if she ever should have brought up the conversation.

“Yes, a reputation of good manners and a princely air, Dray, not fighting on the wrong side of a war!” She couldn’t help but let her voice rise, and let the tears brim at her eyes as she caught on to his hints. Somehow, despite the perfect summer they had spent together, he had managed to sneak away and betray everything they had planned for the future.

“I had no choice, Y/N!” he was shouting now, and as he turned back to face her he didn’t miss the flinch at his tone, or the way her face was quickly flushing for an entirely different reason than ten minutes ago. “I’m sorry, I wanted more than anything to say no and walk out of there, but you know that wasn’t an option. You know what he would do to my family. I can’t be responsible for that.”

At this point, there were tears openly flowing between the two of them. At school, Draco always seemed so reserved and closed off to any emotion, but with Y/N he had never hidden, he showed himself completely. Or, she thought he had.

He saw her collecting the possessions she had scattered across the room and raced towards her, collecting her hands in his and sinking to the floor in front of her.

“No, please don’t leave. Please, you’re all I have left. You’re the one thing getting me through this, our future together.” He begged, and she felt her heart break a little at the swollen eyes that stared back at her. She sank onto the floor with him, bringing his knuckles to her lips and softly pressing a kiss there.

“I don’t know how to see past this, Dray. Where does the line get drawn? Do you keep tormenting first years who are just so happy to experience magic for the first time, purely for who their parents are? Merlin, I mean, are you going to start killing people without a second thought?” She saw him flinch at her words and she choked out a sob, somewhere between shock and disbelief.

She fell further to the floor, her hands slipping out of his shell-shocked ones. “They’re making you kill someone.” She whispered, voice barely audible, but he still nodded in acknowledgement of her words. “Who?”

“Please, Y/N, baby, please can we just pretend everything is as it has been all summer. I don’t want you to see this side of me. Please, remember me, before I become someone you won’t love.” Tears were still flowing down his face as he reached for her hands again, and she reluctantly let him take them. His words made her wary, and she looked into his eyes, drawing in a steady breath before she asked again.

“Dray. Who?”

“Dumbledore.” He sighed, more silent tears splashing onto the floor. Unable to help herself at the sight of the broken boy in front of her, she pulled him into her lap, letting him sob into her shoulder as she gently ran a hand through his blonde tresses.

They sat there for what felt like hours, watching the shadows move across the room, trying to figure out what the next move was. Eventually, once the tears had stopped, Draco’s croaky voice broke the silence.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m not who you deserve to be with. I won’t stop you from leaving.” He pulled away from her, face to face, inches apart. The devastation was clear across both of their faces, and she felt a sense of unease settle over her.

“For our future?” She asked, voice quavering.

“I swear, once this is all done, we’ll go as far away as we can and never look back.” His eyes were clear, shining with sincerity.

Solemnly, she nodded, feeling the unease setting in her at what she was agreeing to, wondering if this was a choice she would always regret.

“Then I guess you have a job to do, Dray.”

#harry potter #harry potter fic #draco #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #malfoy x reader #angst #draco angst #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fic #draco fic #draco imagine #golden trio era #remember me #dove cameron #song fic #draco malfoy song fic

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (15/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” And Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: Feedback is very much appreciated!

Link: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

“Belated happy birthday.” That first greeting was underwhelming in the deafening silence.

The room had been strangely quiet and it had been that way since he first entered, a far cry from the air during their past sessions. Shela should have waved one hand as he closed the door behind him. Even before he got to the seat, she should have been throwing multiple questions in succession.

What else did you get written?

Anything happening in school?

How’s Hange?

Oddly enough, Shela had only followed him with her eyes as he entered the room. The silence had felt like something pounding in his ears and her gaze had become something worth trifling his own consciousness with.

To top it all off, it had ended so anticlimactically with one greeting that Levi was left utterly confused as he sat on the chair in front of her.

What do you want her to do? Levi found himself asking silently as he matched Shela’s stare with his own.

Her blue eyes though were still warm, her eyes wide with what could have been curiosity. Levi started to suspect that it had all been a figment of his imagination that only a while ago they were watching and observing. Even as he settled on his seat, he sensed there were still questions up in the air that Levi could have grasped if he reached hard enough.

“Is that why you called me here? A free birthday session?” Levi asked.

“I just thought it was a good first greeting.” Shela’s voice was casual, innocent, and almost annoying.

Something wanted to burst out from inside him. That excuse of a greeting had only done the bare minimum to help it. In fact, it had done worse. It poked at him, whispering to him to figure out for himself what the hell that something was..

He was in no mood for a guessing game though. And he hadn’t been for the past few weeks. “Then why did you call me?” He asked. It had been a tall order to match her gaze, to come up with the right answers to questions she hadn’t even asked yet.

Shela shrugged. “I just wanted to check on my favorite patient.”

“I haven’t been your patient in a while.”

“We had scheduled sessions. You just didn’t go to them.”

“I was busy…. Besides, don’t you have anything better to do than chase one patient?”

Shela raised one eyebrow. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to come here? You had a choice to answer that message and believe me, you’re free to leave if you want to Levi.” She gestured her hands towards the door in one long exaggerated movement.

One movement that only served to sink Levi deeper into the sofa chair. In those few seconds as Levi leaned back, he saw once again the gradual shift in her gaze from something innocent to something cold and observing, and it was as if she was studying some sort of a specimen. And he was the specimen.

He was certain that was the exact same gaze he felt as he went through the door. But it wasn’t at all unfamiliar. Those had been the eyes she gave after all when she had asked the precise questions that broke the icebergs inside him into chunks instead of winnowing through the hard surface.

Why did that gaze in particular have him tense up at that exact moment? Levi didn’t have to wait too long for an answer though.

“You haven't written in a while,” she said.

“I deleted it.”

Shela didn’t look too surprised though. “Why?” She asked.

“It just seemed like a useless thing to do.”

“Why would you say it was useless?

“I was wasting a lot of time with it.” “So you did continue writing after our last meeting.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Just a guess… You only deleted the file a few weeks ago so it must mean you were thinking about it.”

Levi’s eyes widened and soon, he was starting to rack his brain for an explanation. “I don’t remember sharing you the file…”

“Hange told me what happened.”

“So you asked her about me?”

Shela shook her head. “No Levi, she approached me. She was worried about you.”

Hange. Levi found himself taking a glance at his phone in the silence that followed, the third message from the top of his inbox. Last touched weeks before.

He had decided to spend the holidays and his birthday back home. He liked to tell himself that he had only done that because with his hectic student-athlete schedule the past few years, he never had the chance to spend more than three days worth of holidays back home. When at home though, all he had done was lock himself in his bedroom for days on end.

Levi couldn’t convince himself for long. He had only gone home to avoid Hange, to avoid any reminder of the past few months and to avoid the almost nagging regret at having deleted the file.

With the file gone, he had felt like something was missing, painfully missing.

“And I’m concerned about what’s going on between you two,” Shela said.

“You’re paid to be concerned.”

“Oh? So you think I only became a therapist to get paid? Believe me Levi if I didn’t care I wouldn’t have called you here today. I could have gotten another patient and have been paid this extra hour.”

“Then why are you here? Why did you ask me to come here?” Levi felt stinging behind his eyes and a knot in his throat as he spoke up. A part of him actually contemplated leaving at that moment, yet it had been brushed away so quickly by something else, an odd feeling of desperation. He wanted something from her. Hell, he wanted something but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was.

“I told you, I was worried and I wanted to make sense of this with you,” Shela answered. The answer had been underwhelming to say the least especially with the way she narrowed her eyes at him.

And if Levi hadn’t been so desperate for any sort of closure, for that particular reaction he so looked for, maybe he would have just stood up and left.

Shela wasn’t done though. “Are those memories trapping you?”

Memories? Since when had it been about memories? “What memories?”

“Memories of Commander Hange. Captain Levi,” she said confidently, as if they were her memories to begin with. She spoke in such a way that she could have even been talking about real people. Very real people.

Such confidence, such forcefulness and her attempt to shoehorn all that into his reality sent a sudden sting through his chest. If Commander Hange was real, that meant she really died, that meant she really burned alive up there in the sky.

Levi would have preferred that image to have just been a figment of his imagination. “They’re stories.”

“Yet for a while you wanted to believe they were memories right? So what happened in between Levi? What did I miss?”

“I realized… They weren’t real…”

Shela let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re still trying to deny it huh? You’ve always been difficult to crack…” She cleared her throat. “So, Hange told me, the commander died. Then you deleted the file and now you don’t wanna talk about it right?”

Levi didn’t reply.

Shela continued to speak, seeming unfazed. “Here is something I noticed about you. When you injured your knee, your first instinct had been to insist you’re okay then soon you shut up and find something else to cling to--- writing. When writing started to hurt, suddenly you decide to delete the document then tell me everything’s fine. What are you gonna do now? You’re gonna find a new hobby?”

Academics, jumping. He thought to himself. Levi had spent the past few days isolated in his room back home, finishing his own thesis and following the jumping tournaments of his own teammates. As if there was much else to do anyway.

Shela rested her chin on her hands and stared straight ahead. Her eyes seemed to focus on something behind him, as if the answers were found beyond the wide window behind him. “I started to think to myself… Why did Hange’s death of all things hurt you enough to cause that same grief? I read your story, you could have mourned Erwin’s death, you could have mourned your Petra's death, mourned Isabel or Farlan’s death. Why Hange’s? Why did she push you to the edge enough to delete the file?”

“It built up,” Levi answered. That was the most natural explanation right? Or at least the most natural he could think of.

Shela nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer. “Let’s move on to the next question then. Do you think that Hange’s death was any special? If there was something that made it the tipping point in the first place?”

“Can’t a tipping point be something small?”

Shela shook her head. “Tipping points can be small I agree but remember, when you told me you weren’t going to write anymore? It was as if you knew what would be happening next. You looked terrified.”

Somewhere along the way, the remnants of Shela’s gentle facade had completely fallen, replaced by something stone cold, yet confident and almost mocking. Levi was starting to get a little more irritated at such assumptions. Regardless of whether they were true or not.

“So tell me Levi, what makes Hange so special? What made Captain Levi so hesitant to write the next part? Then what made this Levi here want to delete it soon after writing it?”

Levi only had to look behind him, at the sky just outside the window to articulate it for himself. It was surprisingly easy to grasp. It was a simple feeling after all that never left. “It hurt,” he admitted. He could have said more but he had found himself at a loss for words a second later as he imagined the rumbling before him and that one silhouette that disappeared into the blue.

“And if you’re that invested in Hange’s death. I’m sure Erwin’s death, your special squad’s death, should have hurt as much right?”

“They hurt too,” Levi added. He started to become a little more aware of himself. They hurt too but as much as Hange’s death? Not enough for sure to even have him consider deleting the file.

“Then why didn’t you delete the file if they hurt? From what I could tell Captain Levi was inseparable from Erwin.”

Levi let his eyes fall to the empty coffee table in front of him, searching for something worth a distraction among the pockmarks of the wood. Shela’s eyes were getting sharper by the second.

“I’ll ease you into my theory slowly and feel free to tell me if I’m wrong...you and Hange were inseparable right?”

Captain Levi and squad leader Hange Zoe. They were from different teams but they did hang out a lot together. With that quick recall, Levi nodded.

“And you lost a lot of people in your life… So I started to wonder, if Captain Levi spent so much time keeping his distance, being aloof, completely aware that the everyone could end up dead, why did he cling to Hange?”

“Captain Levi cared about a lot of people.”

“I wasn’t denying that Levi. I was asking you, why did he cling to Hange? Why were they inseparable? Attraction? Mutual Support? Love? All three at once?”

The last three words had been things Levi found himself musing over as she continued to talk. But then, he couldn’t figure out for himself the answer. “We couldn’t fall in love. There was a war.” Those words had come out on their own. He only realized seconds later that it didn't answer the question.

Shela gave him a cat-like grin. “We? Huh?”

Levi cleared his throat. “They---,” he corrected.

“Okay, you’re beating around the bush a little too much. I’ll tell you my theory and if you don’t make the effort to figure it out for yourself, this will be my assumption. You didn't think she’d die. You didn’t expect her to die so you took her for granted. Am I wrong, Captain Levi?”

“Took her for granted…” Levi almost spat out those words as he said it. “You can’t just assume that…”

“By take for granted, I meant ‘I can get past pain, death, loss, as long as she’s there’ and for what? You just assumed she was immortal didn’t you? That she couldn't die, since she's always been there. And so the moment she died, suddenly grief hit you like a bus.” She straightened herself up on the seat. “Maybe you thought you would have died first?” Shela pressed.

“I was dying in the woods. I thought she’d be the one to survive the whole time.”

“But you know, it’s not uncommon for people to be this way. To have this person there and just assume that person's immortal, or to think ‘as long as this person is here’ I’ll be okay. It’s only natural that humans find hope in the living. For example,a lot of parents do that too with their own kids and that’s why parents losing their kids are one of the most devastating cases of grief I’ve encountered…” She trailed off. “But I digress, There’s one question about you I’ve been exploring for a while and I’ve always wanted to ask. You might not know the answer yourself but it’s worth a try.” Shela paused and looked at him expectantly.

Even when he sat on her chair, frozen by her cold stare, he still managed to force a nod.

“Why do you remember? Why is Captain Levi forcing his own memories to live on? Unless he had some unresolved feelings right?”

Attraction? Mutual Support? Love? You took her for granted.

Even when moving, Levi let those words, those suggestions run free in his mind. The feeling, the ache in his chest, the weight on his shoulders and the knot at his throat that only evolved into some tremble in his lips. It was everything at once, Levi was sure.

Maybe, I took her for granted. Maybe I should have stopped her. Levi thought to himself. But he wasn’t going to say it out loud yet.

“And something tells me you don’t regret much Captain Levi Ackerman,” Shela said. The gentleness in her face was back. “But maybe if you allowed yourself to regret back then, maybe all these feelings of regret, grief… They wouldn’t have bundled up now, you wouldn’t be hurting like this. You didn't let yourself experience grief and loss… You didn’t let yourself regret even in your deathbed. Now, everything just comes pouring out in your next life because you just let it build up inside you?” She had phrased it as a question but as Shela enunciated those words, Levi couldn’t help but see deep thought in them, as if she had discerned and answered the question for herself already.

“How can you assume that?” Levi challenged. It was a weak attempt, at that point he was starting to get more and more convinced. It had just been a matter of reality pulling him away from an almost ethereal concept.

Soon, he did grasp it, the thing he had been looking for, that one feeling he had been desiring since the start of the conversation.

It manifested first as a knowing smile. And before Levi could respond, grip on to some decent comeback to her long winded tirade, he found himself hesitating, focusing instead on how his shoulders dropped and how the wind was knocked out of himself slowly and the quick movement as he shifted his weight to his hands pressed on the sofa.

“I’m not assuming how you feel. I’m laying out some information, coming up with a theory and leaving it in the air for you to decide whether it’s true or not.” She didn’t continue from there. Instead she dropped her clipboard on the table and walked towards one of the bookshelves, pulling out a blue binder.

“What if it's too detailed to pass up as a reasonable theory?” Levi managed to say. He found himself counting the lines on the wooden table in front of him. In a daze, he had been too distracted to reorganize for himself, Shela’s theory. And he started to even doubt his own ability to respond.

“I’ve been seeing other patients, I think I’ve encountered enough to make some fair guesses. Besides, I told you I’ve been studying reincarnation for a while.” She dropped the blue binder in front of him on the table. “But you still think it’s too detailed to be believable huh? What if I told you I experienced it too? That's why I know the details."

Levi could only stare at the blue binder. He only got so far as to hover his hand over it before he hesitated. He looked up at her, following her as she sat back on the chair in front of him.

“What are you waiting for?” She asked.

“Should I open this?”

“I wouldn’t have put it there if I didn’t want you to read it Levi,” She was looking at him expectantly as if she was excited for him to see what was inside.

Levi started to wonder why he even hesitated. Regardless, he still went at it slowly. The plastic cover on the binder was warm to the touch and for a second or so, he allowed himself to pinch at it, see where the plastic would give into the pressure.

Maybe he had been on that for a second longer than he should have. He was still hesitating. He was still nervous.

“What are you scared of? It’s a binder,” Shela said.

“What’s inside?”

“It’s my research on reincarnation.”

“For your PhD?”

Shela paused for a second before answering. “I created two pieces of writing for my PhD, something stomachable by the scientific body and something just for myself,” Shela explained. “Because I honestly don’t think anyone would have believed it either if I was telling them I was seeing very clear visions of a past life.”

Do you really believe these were memories from a past life? Levi muttered. For a second, he had wondered if he had said it loud enough for her to hear. But when he opened the binder, he quickly realized he didn’t need an answer.

The title of the work was generic, easily forgettable. But the subtitle underneath and the author’s name spoke to him in ways Levi couldn’t fully comprehend just yet. Comprehension came quickly after running his eyes over the title then the subtitle underneath

He read her name out loud. Her first name settled at the back of his mouth and he couldn’t be too sure if he had pronounced it correctly. But when he said it a second time, the name rolled off his tongue too easily, as if it was all too familiar. His mind had just taken a split second longer to process it.

From my past life? Levi thought to himself. At that point, he couldn’t be too sure. It had seemed like too distant of a memory. He never had to use her name with her after all. He only remembered her having taught him to pronounce it eons ago.

Her last name next to it was all too familiar, yet surprising. And Levi had little to no problem, saying it for himself, even when still recovering from that small bout of surprise.

“Ackerman’s my maiden name,” she explained. “And I’m sure you saw it already, my first name is a little old fashioned.” She didn’t seem so self conscious though, as if she was aware that many lives ago, she had been teaching him to say it back when it had been just the both of them in the underground city.

Levi said her whole name out loud again. As soon as he looked back up at her, putting name to face, he found himself transported back to that small room, running his hand over her curly black hair and locking gazes with those piercing cold blue eyes. Then, they were his only source of comfort, his sanctuary.

And he never did figure out if he said it right back then in the underground city. Just to make sure though, he read it aloud in front of her again, willing himself to say it clearly and firmly.

“Written by: Kuchel Ackerman.”

***

Bookends. That’s how it seemed at least. Levi had two pages written out by that night.

He had his earliest childhood memories up there, everything as visceral as possible from the sights, to the scents, to her touch. With not too much context though, his earliest memories stuck to him as comforting sensations more than anything. Within an hour of writing, he gave up and concluded that he never did remember much of it.

Right under those early childhood sensations, articulated to the best of his capabilities, were memories after Kuchel’s death, training to fight in the underground. Then, written below that were narrations on life after the war, his remaining years on a wheelchair, travelling around Marley, joining the peace ambassadors on occasional trips.

There was no transition between them, nothing more glaring than paragraph breaks.

They were two sections with little to no connection to each other. But Levi at least knew for himself, that in-between would have been those long winded narrations on his life in the survey corps and his life during the war against Marley.

For some reason, he wasn’t too bothered about the missing parts though. As if he had already accepted for himself that he made the decision to delete it.

Finishing what he started. That’s what it felt like and that’s all there was to it. Reading Shela’s own work after all had him somehow accepting that they were memories more than dreams.

Something that had to be immortalized somewhere/ The acceptance though that the grief, the loss and the pain were memories not dreams was slow going. The dreams had been painful, realizing they were someone’s reality, only aggravated it.

Kuchel’s words echoed in his head. The last questions she said before they separated that day. Back then, she had escorted him to the door of her office and they had stood there for a few minutes before parting ways.

Can you let it go?

I don’t even know what I’m trying to let go of. For all he knew, something died in him back in that day in Odiha. Consequently, there were emotions he couldn’t even access, as if part of life had ended for him in that single moment.

You can’t access or comprehend those emotions because you didn’t let yourself feel it. You didn't ride through it.

And she had pointed it out then. Captain Levi had never been the most emotional person because he had never allowed himself to feel.

That’s your homework. Ride through the pain, the loss, the grief, the regret. And when the time is right, you’ll be able to let it go. I know you will.

Opening the laptop wasn’t easy. Staring at the blank document sheet and deciding for himself the first words to say took ages longer than what he would have liked.

As soon as he had decided for himself that he was going to write though, everything came out so seamlessly. He only had to hover his hands over the keyboard, feel for the right keys, for them to start moving on their own. It turned out writing with little regard for grammar and punctuation or for unwelcome emotional reactions, was oddly liberating.

He had started off with bullet points but soon enough the sentences were too long and the bullet points were rendered useless. Eventually, he scrapped the bullet points altogether.

“There was a peace treaty,” Levi said aloud as he typed it out. “Armin and the others, they became peace ambassadors…”

“And Mikasa…” Levi trailed off as he remembered. She was back in Paradis, back in their old town of Shiganshina where Eren’s head was laid to rest. He thought back to Mikasa and for a second he almost felt guilty for even questioning her decision to stay with Eren. “If this was how it felt for you, I wouldn’t be surprised why you’d be hesitant to leave him,” Levi said, he leaned back on his chair, stretched out his good leg and stared blankly at the ceiling above him.

The pain was similar, he was sure. He had seen flashes of visiting an empty grave as he wrote. The white ceiling above him and the contrast it provided made those dark memories all the more vivid.

The face he had been longing to see though, as he stared at the grave then, was just a phone call away. And before he even noticed it himself, he had reached for the phone next to his laptop, turning it screen up.

He had no one else to call so her number and their message thread was still one of the first on his inbox. Even if he hadn’t opened it in weeks.

Of course, it would. Hange had sent messages multiple times the past few weeks..

December 23 8:15 AM

I heard you went home.

December 25 12:01 AM

Happy Birthday! :D

January 1 12:00 AM

Happy New Year! Wishing you a bright new year and a speedy recovery

January 3 6:21 AM

Wanna talk when you get back?

January 5 2:23 AM

Hey, I’m sorry about everything. I should have been more sensitive to your needs. Even if you don’t wanna meet after this, it’s fine. I had a great time working with you and I’ll remember these past few months :D. I’m just sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.

Just assure me please. Did you get to talk to someone? I hope you did. I was just concerned. But it doesn’t matter too much now. As long as you’re okay.

Levi didn’t scroll up past those last few messages. The rest had been paragraphs worth of apologies even he didn’t want to ponder.

Besides, there were more important things to him then, like finding the right words to say as a response to that latest message.

He sensed closure there. Yet, he wasn’t ready for closure. His mind was scrambling for some way to reopen the conversation then.

It was late at night though. Levi was exhausted and impatient. He was sure if he sent something and slept it off, he should wake up to a message the next morning.

So the message he sent then had been automatic, typical. It didn’t require too much thought to compose.

January 9 11:17 PM

Hey, when are you free to talk?

He decided then, he could leave it to his future self to come up with another response in the morning.

***

Levi’s sleep was light, light enough that the quick ping of his phone was more than enough to wake him up. He was awake enough to reach for his phone on the side table, pull it under the blankets with him and open his messaging application.

It wasn’t Hange who had messaged.

“Coach?” Levi muttered as he sat up in bed.

Sorry if this is pretty last minute. Mikasa agreed to meet at the track today this afternoon around 3-3:30. You think you could make it?

Levi typed a short text accepting the invite and sent it out.

He pulled at the curtains of his window. The sun was out already. He stared back at his phone at the upper right of the screen.

9:23 AM.

He was oddly disappointed. Other plans meant he didn’t have to think about the ignored message at the top of his inbox. He had sent the message at eleven last night. It had been almost twelve hours since then.

Was she taking a really long slumber? Or was she just ignoring him?

Nothing much to do until three so Levi opened his laptop and worked on his own thesis. Working on something as utterly boring and monotonous as a school requirement though didn’t make time run faster.

Levi was sure he had gone through at least fifty articles of doping cases among professional athletes. When he looked back at the clock though, he saw only two hours had passed.

He ordered lunch. Time went notably faster when he was just scrolling through his social media, yet excruciatingly slower still than what he was used to. And the main culprit? Hange’s online status and her activity on social media.

Hange was still liking photos which meant one thing: She was ignoring messages.

He went down to pick up his delivery from the dorm lobby and on the way up, he took a detour. All the way to Hange’s room on the other side of the building, a five minute walk for most people. For Levi it could have been ten minutes or it could have been ages. He still had that awkward gait which made the journey all the more frustrating.

The hallways were quiet but it wasn’t unexpected. School didn’t start for another two weeks. Hange’s room was along the quiet hallway and Hange had always been loud. So the stark contrast had been unsettling to say the least.

What do you expect her to do? Run down the halls screaming your name? He thought to himself. For some reason, that was what he was expecting and that was what he would’ve liked.

He took advantage of that silence. He padded lightly through the hallway, attempting to segregate the sounds of the creak of the floorboard with whatever he sounds he could make out from the rooms.

Nothing much. All silence. Of course it would be silent though, that wasn’t Hange’s room yet.

Her room was towards the end of the hall, the third to the last door to the right. Eventually he got tired of keeping his footsteps and his awkward gait light and he found himself scurrying--- at least to the best of his own injured abilities--- towards the door.

He willed himself not to make a sound. He wasn’t sure though if he had been the sneakiest.

He was still quiet enough at least to hear something. He had to press his ear to the door to hear it clearly, the rhythmic clacking of the keyboard, the sound of books hitting the desk and a loud yawn that had been very much Hange’s.

The loud yawn in particular sent a twinge up his spine and an ache in his chest and Levi had to swallow hard to get his bearings. He missed her.

He knocked on the door once. Then twice to make sure she heard it. Then he waited five long seconds for any response.

There was no response. He slapped the door. Still no answer.

Within a few seconds more, he started to get self conscious. She didn’t reply to his messages while being glaringly online. She was blatantly ignoring his knocks on the door. Did she actually want to see him?

And Levi was starting to notice the growling of his stomach. It was enough of a reminder that he hadn’t even had breakfast that morning.

A little disheartened, he made the journey back to his room.

***

The coldest point of winter was coming. Levi would have noticed it by just looking at the calendar. It had been a while since he stood outside long enough to let the cold sink deep under his skin.

And he was only reminded of such weather patterns when he stepped on to the open air track which was understandably empty. Two in the afternoon shouldn’t be too cold but that day in particular had Levi shivering, his teeth chattering in such an unfamiliar way.

That would have been expected. He didn’t spend much time outdoors anymore, Maybe that had explained that sudden, unfamiliar susceptibility to the cold. He could never be too sure though.

He scanned the field for any sign of Mikasa or his coach. What first caught his eye then had been the horizontal bar, set up where it always was. He hadn't returned to the field since his injuryand seeing the bar like it always had been, sent a wave of nostalgia and longing through him.

For a while, he was fixated and for a few seconds more, he vacillated between sitting on the bleachers or walking to the middle of the track where it was set up. Alone in the field though with nothing much else to do though, he opted to pass the time reminiscing

The bar was set high enough for Levi to have to reach up but still low enough for him to be able to grip it hard. It was cold to the touch. It was a fair distance away from him and it hovered over him, masquerading as something almost unattainable.

But maybe it was unattainable. Levi found himself strangely sad at the distance, still unable to fathom that only a few months ago, that bar had been a very easy height to clear.

“Hey… Your coach said you’d be here.”

Levi quickly turned towards the voice.

Mikasa stood before him in joggers and a sweatshirt. Her hair clipped back, red blotches on her cheek. Levi only had to listen to her breaths and notice the way she curled her lips as she took steady breaths to conclude that she had been running.

“Coach is training you now? In the middle of winter?”

She shook her head. “No, I wanted to try out your track for myself. He left the club room and the equipment room open and told me to just try it out while he goes out to check on your team.”

“What made you change your mind?”

She avoided his gaze. “To be honest I’m still not completely sure about this yet. Your coach knows I’m not. But I thought I’d try it out, get to know your school more.”

“It’s a good choice,” Levi said.

For a second, the two were silent. Levi chose that moment to look back up at the bar in front of him but he could see from his peripherals, Mikasa still hadn’t looked away from him. So he waited.

She spoke up eventually. “Hey, about what happened at the diner… I’m sorry about that. I know I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I heard about your injury a while back, even before we met. Even if I don’t like jumping that much either, I think it would have hurt too…”

I’m fine. That had been his first instinct and he had opened his mouth ready to say it.

That’s your homework. Ride through the grief, the loss, the pain. Kuchel’s voice tore into his train of thought.

Will that actually help? He had been riding through that grief last night as he wrote, he had let it wash over him then. If he had been a little more introspective, he would have realized although it did hurt, it wasn’t a heavy, crushing type of hurt. It was a pain that still allowed him motions.

It granted him enough control to still function as a person. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not.” But it was still hard to admit. “It takes time,” Levi added as he looked back up at the horizontal bar and behind it the clear blue sky. The color blue was bright, warm yet melancholic.

Mikasa didn’t reply. Her stare though seemed more focused. When Levi looked at her, made eye contact, comprehension washed over him. He knew she understood. And he caught that comprehension quickly like some contagion.

He spoke up again. “Eren means a lot to you huh?”

“We grew up together, lived along the same street. We went to the same school since kinder. And since we were young, he'd get agitated a lot, pick a lot of fights and I always had to look out for him.” Mikasa put one hand behind her neck and craned her neck to look up at the sky. “I almost hesitated to even try jumping since I wouldn’t be able to protect him as much anymore…”

“Why did you start jumping then?”

“After I got scouted in sophomore year, Eren convinced me to try it. He was the one who wanted me to widen my world.”

“And he talked to you again about this?”

“He and Armin did. They told me to consider this.”

“Then it should be an easy decision.”

Mikasa smiled. “I know it’s supposed to be an easy decision. But how I feel about Eren doesn’t make it easy.. I’ve known Eren my whole life and don’t get me wrong, I’ve never lost him but... Somehow, I can imagine how it would feel like to lose him. So I don’t wanna let go.”

“But losing people, losing things that are precious to us is a fact of life. We’re gonna deal with it anyway. Besides, you’re not losing him, he’ll make college in a year or so.”

“He won’t make Paradis University.”

“You’ll have him on the weekends.”

“But will I be able to handle that set up?” Mikasa met his gaze again. She never lost Eren or so that was what she said.

Will I be able to handle it? Yet why was Levi seeing grief in her eyes? Why did such a strong wave of comprehension hit him almost violently in that moment where their eyes met?

Empathy? It was an easy answer to pick up for himself. But maybe it ran deeper than that, because suddenly, Levi was aware of the ground under him, the cold air caressing him, the loud rustle of leaves. He was feeling everything at once. And with it, he felt the twinge in his stomach, the pang in his chest, the knot in his throat.

The grief never left. The loss never left. And the pain gripped him tightly then. Letting himself feel it had left him with a strange bout of confidence, and a wave of liberation that seemed to stick and when Levi spoke up again, he wondered if he was speaking for himself or for her.

“You won’t know if you can handle it until you ride through it yourself.”

Mikasa seemed convinced.

His coach had arrived a few minutes after the conversation, incessantly apologizing about the traffic. The usual pleasant exchange followed.

“How are you?”

“Slowly learning to walk again, focusing on academics.,” Levi answered. “How’s the team?” They were preparing for nationals. He didn’t need an answer. There were still things his coach knew though which couldn’t be researched and he was still invested in any response his coach could give.

“They’re preparing for nationals, training in the indoor gym.” The indoor gym a few minute car ride from their campus. Levi had been training there every winter and it was easy to picture the drills they were probably doing then.

It soon evolved into some unnecessary athlete propaganda which Levi surmised was to entice MIkasa.

“The scouts for the national team have been watching Elijah closely. He’ll probably be getting an invitation soon after nationals are over,” he said, soon after the pleasantries had died out into an awkward silence. Greg turned to Levi. “They were asking about you too. You’d have gotten the invite. No one’s forgotten about you.”

Was that for Mikasa? Or for him? Soon, Levi started to ask. Was that supposed to cheer him up? Levi couldn’t gauge intention though and he found himself looking away as he started to feel the beginnings of a loss of control.

Mikasa may have sensed it. Or at least sensed that moment as a good time to speak up. “Could you tell me more about your athletics program? Levi told me a lot about his experience here and I think I might just be interested.”

The digression and the exchange that followed was quicker and more enthusiastic than something Levi would have easily caught on to. Suddenly Greg was shifting between enthusiasm and relief. And it evolved to some offer to tour her of the school. Then some mentions about dinner.

Levi though was making excuses. The campus was too wide for him to walk through injured. It was getting a little too cold. And with the peak of winter nearing, it might just even get dark in the next hour or so. His main reason for staying wasn’t among those though.

He had been sneaking glances at the bar and at the blue sky behind it. While the field was empty, while the school was lifeless and while the bar and the equipment was set up in front of him, he realized he might just have some unfinished business on the field.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll fix up the equipment here.”

“You sure?” Greg asked as he looked pointedly at Levi’s knee.

“It’s the least I can do. Besides, it won’t be too heavy after I disassemble it.” Or at least it wasn’t so heavy when Levi had carried it before. He turned to Mikasa. “Go ahead, enjoy the day,” Levi said, nodding his head reassuringly.

It didn’t take them much convincing. Greg was too excited and Mikasa started to seem eager as well to see the school.

And Levi wanted them to leave. Alone in the empty field with the equipment all set up, brought forth within him some unwanted feelings yet feelings which Levi wanted to process for himself one last time.

That’s your homework. Ride through the pain, the loss, the grief, the regret.

He was riding through it already and he was at least trying to find hope in that dreadful journey that left him almost desolate. Along the way, as he started to process the emotions, he fixated on the view of the bar, and maybe just a flicker of someone flying through the blue sky behind him. He soon stumbled upon one conclusion, one conclusion that Kuchel had suggested yet he had never really thought too much for himself until that moment.

At that moment, Levi let the emotions speak for him.

Regret is an emotion. Even if you say you don’t regret, even if you come out as the type not to regret, for sure you’ve regretted things right? It was a feeling you willingly chose to brush away. Kuchel had said then, as they had gone through her case study.

Levi had done his part to brush it away, to find something else to entertain him and to only hope that the emotions leave. But they never left. The aches that came with the view in front of him only proved it to him even before, and in that moment, it continued to prove it to him much faster and in more numerous ways than he could count.

So how do I stop feeling this?

You don’t. You can’t control how you feel. You can only control how you process it. The emotions leave when they want.

But when the time is right, you’ll be able to let it go...Before you know it, you’ll find closure.

Around that time, she had mentioned the word 'closure'. But closure had always been a vague word. It manifested as something different for everyone else. Levi soon realized as he started to move, it was a word that could never actually be contained to a black ink on white paper, or to spoken word.

For Levi, it had manifested at something he only sensed as something hazy. He thought he had control of his body then but along the way, it had felt like his body had assessed it for himself, the circumstances that he could only take advantage of at that moment.

He was alone in an empty field, the empty field he hadn’t visited in ages. The equipment was all set up for him. And if he closed his eyes then, allow himself to ignore the biting cold wind, the bare trees. If he just focused on the bar and the blue sky behind him, he could pretend it was summer again and before that, spring, and before that the last summer… Every single season—hell—every single day he had spent jumping over the bars.

His body was moving on its own, as if it understood the concept of closure before he did. He made his way to the clubroom.

I never did clean up after the injury. Levi thought to himself. His spare clothes, his spare pair of shoes and his face towel were all still in the locker, as they had been every time before. It was surprising, he had assumed someone would have cleaned it up.

He didn’t think too much of it though. There were other things he was raring to do. At that moment, he was just grateful nobody had half a mind to remind him, or he probably wouldn’t have been able to go through with his plans.

Levi put on his shoes, his right then his left. He changed to jogging pants and to the sweatshirt left in his locker. And for a second he did some test movements with it.

It was baggier than what he would have wanted, but he wasn’t in a competition, Levi could be as lenient as he wanted about it.

Beggars can’t be choosers. Levi thought to himself as he rolled up the jogger on his left leg and stared at the braced knee underneath. He could walk, he was sure. Yet just imagining himself removing the brace, left an unsettling feeling inside him.

He ended up pondering it for a while, a while longer than he was aware of. Soon enough, he decided on wearing it on the way back to the track, to just give his knee time to prepare.

On the way back, he passed by the equipment storage and he found himself thinking a lot harder about it. He looked back to the equipment in the field. Mikasa had mentioned setting it up. She had set up the pad underneath, but it had been an incomplete set up. Or so that was what Levi recalled.

There’s supposed to be a pad on top. Levi recalled. He opened the storage room to see the weather cover and the top pad, strewn on the side.

Lugging both the weather cover and the top pad would take two trips. Levi approximated. But did he have the time for two trips?

His coach was unpredictable. And just the idea of them coming back to catch him attempting such, was something Levi didn’t want to imagine then. So he folded up the weather cover and dragged the mat behind him, ignoring the uncomfortable twinge in his knee.

“Hey, you need help?”

Levi hadn’t expected anyone to be there. And of all people, Armin? “What are you doing here?”

“Mikasa told me she’s going out to dinner with your coach so she asked me to pick up her things from the club room…” Armin started. “I was here on campus already so…”

Levi softened his gaze, only realizing when Armin had trailed off quickly, avoiding his stare that he had probably been glaring. “You’re meeting Hange?” He asked, willing his voice to mellow.

“She’s been busy with thesis and I offered to help her out… So I’m picking up the stuff and will be meeting her soon after,” he explained. “But I arrived a bit early and I have some extra time." He offered his hand out to help.

Armin was extra hands. Extra hands meant time could go faster. And for sure, he could get Armin to hide his next set of plans.

“So, why are you bringing this to the field?” He asked, as they walked along the dirt path to the field.

Levi shrugged. “I guess I wanna try jumping one more time before I leave it for good.”

“But…”

Levi didn’t have to look at him to know what he wanted to suggest. “You’re thinking about my injury huh? It’ll be fine. I just wanna get a few jumps in.”

“It might be better to wait a few months?” Armin suggested.

“The team is training outside. The field is empty. The equipment is all set up and I’m graduating soon. When else but now?” Levi asked. Thinking back to it soon after he asked though, he could have waited a few months, maybe go back to school to just try it out one last time. But as they turned the corner and as the field opened up before him, Levi only had to look once again at the pale blue sky that stretched endlessly behind the field to be reminded, it ran deeper than that.

“You can wait a few months… I’m sure your coach---” Armin started, as if he had read his mind.

“When else, but now?” Levi pressed. The sky was starting to make its slow transition to purple, then. Orange and bright red were the next colors beyond that. And Levi started to see some of the steam, the colossal titans that marched forward slowly but surely. That one flicker in the sky though, caught his attention. She was concealed behind steam, and flashes of orange and bright red.

How much time did he have?

Armin took a deep breath. “This might sound weird. I’m probably the last person you wanna get advice from… I’m younger than you… and we just met… But Hange probably just rubbed off on me but you know, I guess I’m worried. I heard about your injury months ago, before we even met, Mikasa told me… It was in the rumor mill of the high jump community.”

So what?

“It must have been devastating huh? To lose something like that... Something that has been a constant in your life for five years even ten years…”

Devastating. Was that the right word?

“You must have regretted a lot…”

Did I let myself regret it? He willed himself not to regret then. It was a conscious decision to let the emotions flow free. Soon he had to admit— albeit uncomfortably— he regretted it.

“Then I thought of Mikasa. I actually talked to her about this, about Eren. And you know I was able to convince her that there is a life beyond Eren.”

“So let me predict, you wanna say there’s life beyond jumping?” Life beyond Hange?

Armin nodded. “I know it sounds generic. You probably heard it a million times before but… That was what Hange told us when you left…”

Levi didn’t have to listen to Armin quote it to hear it in her voice.

But… You understand, don’t you? Everyone you meet will be parted from you one day. I know it’s difficult to accept. It’s hard to stay sane, living like that. It’s painful. So painful. I know that.

But even so… We need to move forward…

Armin continued. “Move forward… because the world was wider than Eren. And I guess in your case, the world is wider than jumping. Now that I think about it, maybe you and Mikasa were facing similar things.”

It’s hard to stay sane, living like that. It’s painful. So painful. But we need to keep moving forward.

“Keep moving forward… But that’s what I did,” Levi said.

“But when Mikasa brought up the injury, I noticed it and i saw it still hurt you a lot— I’m sorry if I’m just making wild guesses here. I might be wrong.”

“What else did Hange say?” Levi asked. “After ‘keep moving forward?”

It was easy for Levi to imagine her saying that.

There is liberation in riding the pain through, accepting it will happen and just believing you can get past it.

There is liberation in everything. It’s just a matter of believing that happiness will come again.

“I reflected on it too, with Mikasa…” Armin added as they settled on the lowermost bleachers, closest to the bar. “And I thought of something… What if, the reason it’s so painful is because a part of us dies when we lose something. If Mikasa decides to leave Eren, part of her will die, the part of her that clung to him, her childhood, being with him everyday. They might just fade into distant memories the moment she decides to go to university. But there’s a life beyond him. And exchange for whatever part dies with her, her world widens..."

Levi nodded, glancing subtly at the view of the horizontal bar, the sky was shifting to a bright red behind it.

“Something inside her will be reborn. Maybe like reincarnation? There’s our college life waiting after high school, then our work life after that our family life, then retirement then maybe even other lives after that… Maybe even after we die... There's another life waiting for us.”

Levi shrugged. “You might be right,” he said. There was nothing much else to say. He stood up again and approached the landing pad, dragging that extra pad behind him.

“That’s it. After jumping, after whatever we’re doing now, we’re gonna graduate, move on to our next life. Then we just trust that things will get better, we encounter new things, new people to keep us going. We’ll find something else to keep us going.”

Then an old part of us dies and we’re reincarnated as a new person. That was the last sentence, Levi remembered Armin saying, or so that was the message he remembered.

He couldn’t be too sure about Armin’s exact words. Armin didn’t follow behind him either and his voice started to fade into the background.

Even before Armin’s words could whittle into nothing though, the orange sky started to scream at him, the horizontal bar, only nearer, started to goad him in. “That’s why I wanna enter that new life with no regrets,” Levi said.

Eventually Armin gave up.

Or Levi might just have gotten better at ignoring protests. He got better at creating that world, that consisted of just him, the field, the horizontal bar and the sky. The sky that was still a bright orange, the last flash of light before night blankets it. He didn’t have much time.

So Levi gave up on putting the pad on top. He gave up on the weather cover. He unwrapped his brace and threw it towards the side of the field..

Just one jump. The inhibitor within him promised. It sent a buckle through his knee and a light twinge of pain. It could have been stronger than a twinge, but Levi refused to feel it..

There’s just one thing I need to do for myself and I’ll close this part of my life for good.

Captain Levi never regretted. Or so that was what he had willed himself to do before. But everybody would regret even at least once in their life. Levi was part of that everyone and he had kept his own regret mum inside him. It festered into a wound, then to a scab and eventually it grew to shackles that kept him from moving freely, from moving on.

Ride the pain, the loss, the grief.

So he let the shackles do their work, he let the weight slow him down as he walked towards the starting line.

For a few seconds more, he found himself having to catch his breath as the sun made its way down from the horizon. It glowed a bright red, and along the way it released flashes of orange and yellow.

Soon enough, it was just him and the sky. Then him, the sky and someone else.

“Commander Hange Zoe,” he muttered quietly, yet still loud enough to hear it himself. That word, that name, only made that flicker up in the sky a little more lucid.

The silhouette that flew up in the mountains. The silhouette that flew past the buildings and up at the colossal titans.

That silhouette that burned into nothing up in the sky.

The rustle of the leaves, the biting cold and the distant footsteps though still threatened to pull him out of that world he created for himself. With the sun starting to disappear before the horizon, before the bright red--- the flames--- burned through the flicker. Before the flicker fell to the ground and burned out, Levi knew he would have to move.

Why don’t you want to jump? Levi asked himself. His knees were still buckling. The footsteps were still moving. He could get caught soon if he didn’t do it then.

When else will I be able to do this? Levi pressed, an attempt to push his body forward. His body was starting to disobey, or at least the scabbed knee, his joints, the remnants of bruises in his neck from each painful fall that led up to his injury. The biting cold and the pain at his throat from breathing the dry winter air made him even doubt his ability to run.

Certainly, he was in no shape to jump. But he wasn’t giving up just yet.

Eventually, he did find the right question, the one that had him recalling, then feeling everything at once. And it got his body moving.

Why did you start jumping?

I had dreams. I dreamt I could fly and when I jumped, there was this sense of nostalgia…

Letting himself name the emotions for what they were, he soon realized, the comfort that came with jumping wasn’t borne of nostalgia. It was borne of regret.

Captain Levi had one regret which he never entertained. One regret that ran so deep it could never be summarized with a single question.

Should I have stopped her?

Should I have run after her?

Should I have fought with her?

Back then, he never did go after her. so he never found answers. But in that split second flying feet up in the air with just the view of the blue sky above him, he always found hints to it.

So he continued to jump, higher and higher.

You won’t find the answer, no matter how high you jump. Something inside him nagged.

But I wanna leave this part of my life with no regrets. “I wanted to save you,” Levi said. It was only himself who could have spoken or heard him. So maybe he had said it a little louder, he couldn’t tell.

The flicker in the sky started to burn and like the many times he had envisioned that scene, he expected it to fall over soon. He was certain of that.

I should have tried to save you.

Trying never guaranteed success. But trying always had that special ability of just cushioning a fall, protecting against the impact of regret that followed.

And maybe that was the right thing to do. That alone had been enough to send a burst of energy through him, to bring back the muscle memory that got him succeeding at each height, winning competition after competition.

He wanted to fly. So he ran, like he had done many times before. He let his steps bounce, ignoring the pain in his knee.

The horizontal bar was nothing but a convenient silhouette, a guide towards his actual goal.

If I tried to save you, would things have ended up different?

Commander Hange Zoe was the source of energy that got him bouncing on that knee. It got him ignoring that white flashes of pain that followed. She was up there in the sky, fighting the colossal titans and Levi was determined to fly after her.

He positioned himself to jump in that split second, like he had done many times before. As his body turned to his side though, he saw another Hange Zoe.

She wasn’t a flicker nor a silhouette though She was clearly there, chestnut brown hair, bright eyes, like she had been in every single one of the competitions. He needed a split second more to process her. He was pressed for time though so he opted to look straight ahead, to focus on the jump.

“Levi!”

Levi was already up in the air when he heard her call out, when reality gripped at him and attempted to pull him back. Suspended up in the air, floating, it had been easier to pull away.

That was his last jump, his last attempt to save Commander Hange Zoe and he would see it through

There were things though people can will with all their minds, yet their body would still choose to disobey. If the body hadn’t been such a limiting factor, maybe everyone would have been an Olympic athlete.

Levi only had that crushing lesson on reality, hit him hard when he landed painfully on pad, the bar underneath him.

The flicker that he could have sworn was Hange faded into the sky. Or maybe it had fallen over too quickly, in the few moments it took Levi to blink.

The sky shifted into a deep blue. It would shift to a darker blue, then soon, the sky would be painted black. It took the flicker in the sky that had been Hange and soon it would be taking his surroundings with it.

Right after taking her? He would have wanted to ask. He had learned it before already, reality was cruel. There was no use bargaining with it.

It was starting to get cold. The heat in that moment as he made the jump and the heat of the fiery death he had witnessed, waged war with the winter chill that was starting to eat at him too.

Too many discomforts to process at once and in that second, Levi was almost grateful for the desolation, the disappointment that was also nagging at him then.

So he gave it some traction and soon, some place in reality. “I’m sorry, I can’t fly anymore,” he whispered. Those words should have been between him and whatever flicker had disappeared in the sky.

There had been an intruder though and Levi was slow to notice it. “Levi! What were you thinking?” she asked.

Gentle hands ran through him. Familiar hands pressed at his knees, at his arms. “Just thought I’d try it one last time.” Levi answered as he turned to the voice.

Hange’s face softened as they made eye contact. “Levi… you know the momentum comes from the run… With your injury, you wouldn’t have been able to even jump heights less than two meters..”

“I wanted to. Just one last time.”

Her hazel eyes were on him again, and they could have been glistening, illuminated by the already dim light as the winter sun shone with its last few rays.

“You don’t need to...” She helped him into a sitting position and Levi followed suit, surprised out how his body was still obeying him

Need to what? He hoped to seek clarity in the seconds that followed. Shaken for sure by those bursts of movement, the pain that came and the pain he had expected to come, he found himself unable to speak.

But it turned out, he didn't need to. He couldn't speak so Hange spoke for him. “If you don’t want me to, I won't leave you,” she said.

A minute ago, it had been hot. A few seconds ago it had been chilly. When she wrapped her arms around him though, the war between hot and cold ended with a comfortable compromise. Her tight embrace was lukewarm. “I’m right here… And I'll be right here for as long as you want me to be."

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Text

frENEMIES {Quarterback AU}

Summary: When his brother forces him to go on a double date with him and with a girl that absolutely hates Grayson, he’s forced to realize that their mutual disdain might have been caused by his own actions.

Warnings: swearing, a lot of banter

Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N - this is sort of a version of This Is War (Ethan frat/soulmate fic), but there are no soulmates here. It’s probably bad since I stress wrote it instead of studying, but it’s also kind of fun? I guess I’m a sucker for enemies trope. Also, I am writing Fix me finale, but it will take me a while because I am back in college for the next month and a half or so and I have back to back exams every 2 or 3 days. Hope you guys understand and I hope you like this one as well.

* * *

Ethan never thought he'd have to beg his brother to accompany a beautiful woman on a date, but he still found himself in front of his arm-crossed twin and his defiant glare.

„No. Not happening.“ Grayson is adamant, refusing to budge and most definitely not when it's her who they want him to go out with. Why can't they find someone else to be their double date?! He just didn't see the sanity in that decision.

„I'm asking as a brother!“ Ethan pulled his twin card, hoping to see change in Grayson who simply laughed in his face before turning his back on him, still stubbornly refusing to even consider it.

„Bruh, never gonna happen.“

Rolling his eyes, Ethan's annoyance grows as he's forced to walk in front of his brother who seems damn determined to fuck up his night even after he tried to bribe him with chores, cash, even his dear Smooth cat.

„She's Amina's best friend. I am begging you, please, don't make me call mom on you.“ And that's when he played the ultimate card – the mom card. There isn't a woman in the world as important to Grayson as his mother, but then again, there isn't a woman as capable of making him do things he'd never want to do.

„Seriously? Playing the mom card now? What are we, like 10? Plus, why would she even want me as a date?! She fucking hates me and I'm pretty sure she's mental. You're putting your favorite brother in the line of fire.“ Reasoning with Ethan had never been fruitful in the past, but even as he watches Ethan shrug his pleas off his shoulders, Grayson clings to some hope he'd manage to escape this whole ordeal. It's probably the only time he had ever regretted being a playboy instead of having a girlfriend...taken men can't be forced into dates with their worst enemy.

„Favorite? You're my only brother, Grayson. It does not make you necessarily a favorite.“ Ethan retorted with furrowed eyebrows before tossing a white, classy shirt at his brother's chest. „Now get ready and be nice tonight, okay?“

Nostrils flared as he inhales deeply, staring daggers at Ethan's back as he leaves the room, Grayson yells after him: „No promises!“

To say he spent the entire drive over to the restaurant sulking would be an understatement. The last thing, absolutely the last thing, Grayson wanted to do now is to spend a few hours around Y/N Y/L/N.

You know those girls that are always seemingly fun but will cut you down with just a look if you make a single misstep? The girls that may be smaller than guys but cause terror in them whenever they scowl?

Y/N Y/L/N is the queen B of the club Grayson is certain exists as some secret college society of women that learn how to make men's lives miserable.

Sure, she's on good terms with everyone else, but Grayson always found her to be rude and mean-spirited with him. Every time he tried to bridge the distance between them for not only his brother's relationship but his own inner peace, she nearly chewed his head off.

In time, Grayson learned to avoid her and her mood-swings, but he still found himself getting out of the car on this particular night, finding Amina in front of the restaurant and he could easily recognize Y/N, even from behind. Perhaps he's spent too much time admiring her ass in the past, but she wasn't hard to recognize, besides, who else would be helping Amina fix her hijab?

For a moment there, he just stands there on the curb, watching her as the wind picks up and her hair flies to the side, revealing her face as she steps away from Amina and giggles, the sound carried through the wind and to his unsuspecting ears. He thought her laugh is almost...tolerable...cute even.

Shaking his head vehemently, Grayson felt Ethan's hand on his shoulder and his expecting gaze as well.

„Come on. It might rain soon and I'd rather not worry if Amina will freeze to death when her clothes get wet.“

Sighing, Grayson follows his brother reluctantly, his gaze unwavering and on his enemy. She may be clothed in a beautiful green dress with bare back, but Grayson still remembers she's a wolf in sheep's clothing.

„Hey.“ Ethan smiles sheepishly at his dear Amina, giving her a small wave as she looks down shyly and her cheeks turn a darker shade. Their relationship is pure in Grayson's eyes – they rarely ever touch and when they do it's by accident and yet they seem to be inseparable. In a moment of weakness, he wished for something as simple and pure as they have too.

„Ugh. Grayson fucking Dolan? Seriously Amina?“ Y/N all but growled at her best friend who was forced to look at her instead of Ethan who really captured all her attention moments ago. Frowning, Grayson clears his throat, hoping to speak but Y/N continues.

„I thought I was supposed to be here with you as the third wheel because your dad insisted! Why call...“ She turns to Grayson, gesticulating to his face with slight disgust on her face before she adds: „Him.“

„Excuse me?!“ Grayson exclaims, quite frankly offended by the way she looked at him like he's not worth the dirt off her cheap heels, but she just turns to him with the fakest, fed-up smile she could muster.

„You may be excused.“ Showing him down the road, hoping he'd leave, Y/N looked at the way his face quickly changed from insulted, to angry, to wicked.

„Oh, no. I'm staying. Now that I know you have been blindsided into spending a whole dinner with me, I'd love for a chance to make your meal a little spicy.“ Winking, Grayson opened the door. Waiting for them to enter, Ethan and Amina were fast but Y/N crossed her arms and tapped her foot against the pavement, her eyes narrowed at him with suspicion.

„Waiting for a formal invitations, princess?“ Grayson clicks his tongue as he gestures with a nod for her to get inside, nearly bursting out laughing when she flinches with the thunder echoing in the street.

„You're just waiting for me to walk in order to let the door slam in my face.“ She guesses, looking up at the sky nervously as lightning tears the sky open.

„Maybe, but you'll never know if you don't come in. Or you can test your luck with the thunderstorm.“ Shrugging as if saying he's alright with either or, Grayson raises his eyebrow in challenge and then it crosses his mind – this is the first time since he met her that he has the reigns and it feels really, really good.

Pensive, she looks back up at the sky before shrugging. „I'd rather brave the storm then, quarterback.“

However, as she states her choice, rain starts to drizzle and the lightning illuminates every line of her frustrated face and her pouted lips as she closes her eyes in anticipation of what's to come. Brave...but stupid.

„Come in. I won't slam the door in your face.“ Clearing his throat, he adds. „My mama taught me better, alright?“

„Fine, but if you do, I know who to complain to then. Don't underestimate me, quarterback. I can find her number if I want to!“ Eyes narrower with every step she takes, arms tense as she expects him to go back on his word, she manages to walk into the restaurant without a scratch on her and surprisingly no attempt to even frighten her.

Y/N headed straight for the table next to Ethan and Amina, the only one available with 'reserved' card on it. She sat opposite of Amina so she could pick up on any signal her best friend sends, but also because she had many signals she wanted to send her and a middle finger might be one of them.

Of all the men in the universe, hell, of all the women in the universe, those two chose the quarterback from hell? She never quite understood how he and Ethan could be twins and be so fundamentally different but after the first two years, she just stopped trying to understand it – understand him, at all.

„Alright. What do you want to order?“ Grayson picks up the menu – the only menu on the table and she rolls her eyes at him again. „Might wanna watch the eye-rolls. Don't want your eyes getting stuck like that, do you?“

Glancing at Amina who just mouthed 'Please', Y/N let out a violent huff in utter frustration, even more so when Grayson continued to hog the menu.

„Why are you here? Really? Did they blindside you too?“ Y/N questions, more curious about how calm he seemed when he found her in front of the restaurant than the menu he holds. She can't eat much now when her appetite is for vengeance alone.

„Nope, Ethan played the mom card. I wouldn't be here otherwise, trust me.“ He responds without even looking at her, his eyes still going over the menu and if she didn't know better, she'd think he's confused.

„You have something better to do on a Saturday night? A girl perhaps? Did I cockblock you, quarterback?“ Raising her eyebrows with amusement, she leans in and cocks her head slightly to the left, awaiting for his response.

„Don't flatter yourself. My plans were more important than a girl. I was supposed to run on the treadmill.“

Shaking her head, finding his answer peculiar and she couldn't help herself but question him further. Besides, she had no other form of entertainment but to make steam come out of his ears.

„Running? That's more important? What the hell?“ Flabbergasted, she draws in a shaky breath as she puts a hand on her chest in surprise and Grayson dignifies her with a curious glance.

„Who chooses to spend a Saturday night on a treadmill?“

Putting down the menu, Grayson presses his tongue against his left cheek to reel his usually loud self which was always amplified around her.

„Someone who makes good life choices. Try it sometimes.“ Snarky tone he used made her bite her lower lip, slowly releasing the soft flesh with a little less lipstick than before. Shame – Grayson quite liked the red shade on her lips.

„Oh, quarterback, you're so scandalous. For future reference, if you ever see me running you should run too because I only run for my life...maybe not even then.“ Smacking her lips, she slyly grabbed the menu from his hands and looked it over herself. She noticed Ethan nod at his brother before they exchanged a few words in their weird gibberish language Amina told her about, though she had caught them doing so a few times before too.

„So, you're really into football, huh“, Grayson asks so naively, noticing exactly when she raised her eyes from the menu and up to him with a boy-you-better-run look and he gulps, aware she'd soon say something that would fuck everything up.

„Football? It's literally the last thing on my list of interests...hell, it's not even on the list!“ She exclaims, noticing Grayson's jaw clench and his eyes harden and Ethan facepalmed immediately, all too familiar with what will happen.

„Football is life! What do you mean it's not on the list?“ Shushed by Amina, he presses his lips together but his eyes are wide and wild and Y/N can't help but chuckle.

„It's the dumbest sport there is. All you do is throw hands with men with over-sized pads and helmets. You get concussions for fame? Fuck that.“ Tossing the menu on the center of the table, Y/N leans back in her chair as she notices a vein prominently showing on Grayson's forehead and she can't help but enjoy the view. There is nothing she likes better than a pissed off Grayson. He's got everyone treating him like a deity, but she was never among them. Perhaps it's because he fucked up when they first met, but she tried time and time again to give him the benefit of the doubt and he always proved her opinion of him, while abominable, is very accurate.

„Dumbest sport? Do you know how hard I work to be the very best on that field? The theories and strategies I have to learn? The physical preparations?!“ Whisper shouting, Grayson leaned closer, his elbows resting on the table and his biceps swell up as he moves some of his weight onto his arms and the table under him.

„Oh, wow! You work so hard? A doctor works hard, Grayson. They save lives and they will never earn the money you will earn after college. You're learning how to run zig-zag across the field with a crummy ball in your hands without falling, while doctors, lawyers, teachers, cashiers and many REAL professions are so underfunded and underpaid and you think that's fair?“ Shaking her head, she raises her hands in mock surrender, watching a little bit of Grayson's ego chip away and he shakes his head too, looking away as he keeps his mouth shut.

„Why do you even hate me so much?“ Grayson mumbled sometime during dinner - a very quiet dinner.

Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she wondered if he really doesn't know. Hell, she always knew why she hates him, but she never knew why he hates her.

„You really don't know?“ She nearly chuckles when he shrugs, oblivious as always.

„Why is that somehow worse than everything you did?“ Talking to herself more than him, she lets out a heavy sigh. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Y/N presses her lips together and Grayson can't help but notice the red lipstick is once again evenly spread across her lips.

She remembered the way they met, the way he treats the girls, the pranks he pulled that left her mortified, or the nickname he started that followed her for a whole semester and most of all, she couldn't forgive him for scaring off a guy she thought she'd be with for a very, very long time.

„You're so smart and sure of yourself, figure it out.“ But then again, she did have an appetite for vengeance and he had no idea how ready she was to satisfy it.

He was clueless until Monday morning, right after practice when he was left last in the locker-rooms after his self-imposed morning practice. He was clueless as he walked out of the shower, confused as to where his towel is. He was clueless when his steam-clad body felt the breeze of the mysteriously open window in the locker-room had made him shiver.

However, when he opened his locker, Grayson was no longer clueless: his clothes – gone, his jersey – gone, his phone, bag and towels gone.

Everything is gone, yet when he looks at the mirror, he finds the cause for the message left in a very familiar shade of red gave him more than just a clue – XOXO next to a clear mark of a particular pair of lips he was admiring on Saturday night.

„Y/N FUCKING Y/L/N!“

Tags: @mendesficsxbombay @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @dolandolll

PART 2

#dolan twins #grayson dolan #ethan dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan college au #grayson dolan quarterback

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.20}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

It was a week before Christmas break, on a snowy Friday evening, when Robin and Snape found themselves sitting at one of the tables in the lab yet again, waiting patiently while their newest project simmered quietly in a small cauldron in front of them. Eventually the draught would turn in colour, going from a dull yellowish brown to a brilliant ruby red, but until then there was nothing to do but chat while they had their usual evening coffee.

After the firewhisky endeavour in late October, most of November and December had gone by remarkably unspectacularly, and while they had spent some more evenings in Snape's room throughout that time, mainly because of the music that had stayed in his room in form of Robin's old record player, Robin hadn't ever dared to even consider staying over again. Not that she wouldn't have wanted to –gods, she would give about anything even just to sleep in that cloud of a bed again– but she was rather certain that she couldn't spend another night in his space without doing something stupid. Especially when he was starting to become less opposed to this innocent physical closeness, to her touch and to touching her in return, she was better off sparing herself the temptation of crossing lines she shouldn't even come close to. They had already gotten so far, and she couldn't jeopardize that for a ridiculous spurt of nightly braveness. So it was their normal routine of staying up until ungodly hours to work and talk and simply enjoy each other's company that brightened her days no matter what.

"Your hair smells like pineapple again." Snape remarked in a dramatic sigh, which effectively drew Robin out of her head again.

"Yeah, well, I forgot my shampoo and had to steal from Cas once more." She shrugged with a humoured huff, then took a long sip of her cooled down coffee and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Do you honestly detest pineapple that much?"

"Yes. They smell too sweet for how acidic they are."

"But I know for a fact that you like lemons, and those are even more acidic."

"I do like lemons, yes."

"Funny."

"For someone who cannot tell lemons and limes apart it certainly must be, yes."

Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, but the smile on her lips gave away her true sentiments. He honestly would never let her live that down… and it had been years! That man had a memory better than a photo album or an audio recorder, and she found herself stuck between pride, envy and admiration. The middle would do.

"Next time I'll use Jorien's coconut body wash too, so that you get stuck with me smelling like a freaking piña colada, if you'd prefer that." She teased him right back with a small smirk, but then couldn't help laughing at his horrified expression. "Don't worry, I for my part have no intention of smelling like a fruity cocktail. Would be the cherry on top of everything, eh?"

"Funny." Now it was Snape who rolled his eyes, using his flattest and most indifferent tone, and Robin had to laugh even more. Especially when he finally couldn't help the smirk on his lips any longer either.

"Speaking of drinks, isn't-..." Robin was cut off by a loud knock, which made both her and Snape frown at each other simultaneously, then at the door. It was past one o'clock in the morning; who the hell would dare bothering them at this time?! With every intention to find an answer to that question, it was Robin who jumped off her chair and skipped to the door this time around, with Snape just a few steps behind her.

When she opened up, she was greeted by the kind and absolutely unsurprised face of none other than Professor McGonagall. Robin's eyebrows rose for a second, but she didn't forget her manners over her surprise. "Good evening, Professor. Is everything alright?"

"Good evening indeed, Miss Mitchell. Severus…" McGonagall gave both of them a nod and a smile, looking from one to the other as Snape came to stand so close behind Robin that she could feel his warmth on her back, as well as the gentle brush of his robes whenever he took a breath. It took quite a bit of effort on her part to keep focusing on McGonagall as she spoke on, clearly addressing Snape now. "I'm afraid I have news you won't like to hear."

"What happened?" Snape's voice was the perfect disdainful indifference once more, and Robin had no doubt that his expression was made to match.

"Pomona received an urgent owl an hour ago and henceforth has personal matters to attend to all weekend, which means she will not be able to see to the mandatory dancing instructions of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students tomorrow morning, and seeing as Filius isn't an option, by his own choice may I add, you're going to have to attend to half of the students, Severus." McGonagall stated in one long breath, with a pointed expression that left no room for arguments. Behind Robin's back, Snape held his breath for a second, which she only could tell by the lacking brush of fabric against her jumper.

"Certainly." He finally drawled, dutiful as much as disdainful. It wasn't hard to guess his thoughts on the matter, especially after he had successfully avoided giving this dance class for the past years. "I shall instruct the Slytherins myself, and whichever half of Pomona's students you wish to… impose on me."

"The Ravenclaws should be a better fit for you, I believe." The transfiguration professor was quick to reply. "Would you mind having the time between breakfast and lunch, in the great hall? I myself would prefer the timeframe from lunch until dinner."

"I am not partial to any time."

"It's settled then. You'll teach the Slytherins and Ravenclaws after breakfast." McGonagall smiled almost mischievously, or at least in a decent amount of amusement. "I believe a standard waltz shouldn't be a problem to you, after demonstrating it quite so nicely with Miss Mitchell at last year's ball."

Snape didn't reply, but Robin could feel him glaring at McGonagall over her shoulder. Honestly, she couldn't even blame him for being annoyed by the turn of events. This was probably the last thing he had expected to be doing on this Saturday, especially since they had previously made different plans. Looks like those would have to wait yet again.

"Anyway, I don't want to hold you two up any longer than necessary." McGonagall finally spoke on when nobody replied to her previous statement. "What is it you are doing at this time of night anyway?"

"Working." Both Robin and Snape replied in unison, in the same evading neutrality, and the woman in front of them couldn't help smiling in sincere amusement at their mannerisms.

"I see." She said, and tried to glance past Snape into the lab, only to give up after a half-hearted attempt. "I was merely being curious; I unfortunately have to conduct most of my experiments alone these days."

"If you find yourself looking for an assistant, I can only recommend you to ask Jorien Blakeley. She would be delighted, and I know for a fact that she has a remarkably strong interest in transfiguration." Robin couldn't help the blurb of words from escaping, but she also didn't quite regret it. "And as far as I'm aware, she has been getting fairly high grades as well."

McGonagall looked surprised at the suggestion, then she frowned to herself for a moment and finally smiled at Robin again as she went to reply. "Miss Blakeley really does have a talent for the subject, however I wasn't aware that she would take interest in furthering her knowledge beyond the classroom topics. Nor that she would enjoy having to spend more time with me than necessary."

"Believe me, she does. Very much so even. But she admires you too much to bother you with questions she believes to be too insignificant. Actually, she believes herself to be too insignificant. I try to tutor her as much as possible, but I am by far not the most proficient in the subject, nor can I teach her as much as she would want to learn."

"I certainly will consider speaking to the girl about assisting me then. Thank you, Miss Mitchell." McGonagall said in prevailing mild amusement, but definitely also appreciation, and then gave both Snape and Robin another nod. "Anyway, goodnight for now. I will see you both tomorrow."

As the professor left, Robin closed the door once again and let out a long breath while she followed Snape back to their stools. Perhaps McGonagall would ask Jorien for her assistance indeed, and that might just take some work off Robin's hands if the girl would get her answers from someone more adept in the subject.

"Funny." Snape said after a moment, as he gave Robin a teasing smirk. "You never admired me enough to spare me from your questions."

Robin gave him an immediate glare, but then also a smirk in return. "No, I admired you enough to know that you were the only one who could keep up with my questions in the first place."

"You've always been by far brighter than anyone around you." His smirk widened, and Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly to act over the warmth spreading in her chest and on her cheeks. "Logically, nobody but me could handle you even if you came with instructions."

"Hey!" She couldn't help laughing again at last, and nudged him in the shoulder before she slumped down in her seat. "I don't even know if that last part was supposed to be a compliment or an insult."

"That would be for you to decide."

Indeed, Robin decided on taking it as a compliment. If he thought that his intellect had somewhat found a match in her, she honestly could only feel flattered, brilliant as he was. Besides, he had long stopped insulting her for anything more than a tease in the first place… so a compliment it was. And honestly, Robin absolutely didn't mind that he was the only one who was able to handle her, and she even wholeheartedly agreed with that assessment. But the thought of handling things brought her on to a different topic of thought in an instant, and she frowned to herself for a second.

"I guess our plans for tomorrow are cancelled now, aren't they?" She stated more than asked, and the amusement faded off her face as it vanished from his as well. "I mean, we'll never make it all the way around the black lake between lunch and dinner, especially not in this snow. It'll be too dark to see our own feet even before we have walked half the distance if we start in the afternoon."

"Unfortunately." He sighed, then his face set in a scowl. "Teaching fifty fourth years how to dance certainly is the last thing I expected to do tomorrow."

For a second Robin had to snort at the confirmation of her previous assumption, in almost the same words even, but it was a bitter amusement and it confused Snape more than it cheered either of them up, so her face set back into a grim expression before long . "Too bad Sprout had urgent matters to attend to right on this weekend, out of an entire year to choose from."

"I was starting to believe I had once and for all gotten out of giving dancing lessons… The previous years I wasn't even asked to."

"I luckily only had to suffer through it once, during fifth year. Remember that? I danced with this redhead and everyone made a big deal out of it."

"How could I forget?" Snape huffed, rolling his eyes. "Minerva kept going on and on afterwards about how neat it would be to… encourage that non-existent connection she however believed to see between you and the Weasley boy."

Robin was the one rolling her eyes now, with an indignant scoff to accompany the expression. "Honestly, even back then I was far closer to you than to that boy, or to anyone at all really. You knew that, I even told you about it!"

"That you did." He confirmed, then lost some of the annoyance as he let out a quiet sigh. "I believe it isn't of relevance anymore, Minerva has long since come to her senses as has everyone else who attempted to conspire on the issue. But other than that, I would still like to hear more about your dancing lesson."

"Ah, yes…" Robin said, as the realization hit her that he probably hadn't received any such lessons during his time as a student nor gotten to witness the ones given in the previous years. "Well, uh, it wasn't spectacular actually. In the beginning there was a quick explanation about the whys and hows of dancing, and then McGonagall forced some seventh year boy to demonstrate the dance with her. After that we just had to pick a partner and practiced for like… two hours perhaps. A bit longer maybe. That's it."

"I assume Minerva corrected your errors while you practiced?"

"I'm not too bad at dancing, so she didn't concern herself much with me, but others' mistakes she did correct relentlessly from what I could tell."

"Good. I can do that."

"I think it'll actually be easier for you than it was for her." Robin shrugged at her own thought. "You shouldn't have the problem of people slacking off and fooling around. They're far too scared of you to cause any mayhem or refuse your orders. Easy."

The corner of his lips quirked up for a second, but then set back into a grim line. "I wouldn't call forcing some dunderhead to demonstrate the dance with me particularly 'easy'. Students are far less repelled by Minerva, which makes the entire endeavour less of a sickening prospect for her in return."

Either it was his self-deprecating words or the thought of him dancing with someone else that made Robin feel sour in an instant, but either way she had to swallow the lump in her throat down quite forcefully before she replied. "I… You… uh, I understand how dreadful it must seem to you to dance with someone. But I'm sure whoever you choose will be less repelled by it than you are, if that helps anything."

"I have no intention to force anyone to dance with me at all."

"Yes, no, but… I mean, since it's the fourth years we're speaking of anyway, I'm sure you could ask Jorien. She's quite indifferent to most people; she wouldn't care if she was dancing with you or with someone else. And if I ask her to do it, she will. Especially after I just advertised her to McGonagall."

"Actually, I was going to ask you." He said, surprisingly straightforward and direct in his approach of the topic. "For the favour of helping me with the entire lesson. It would be to the best advantage of everyone if the demonstration was nothing short of perfect, and an additional pair of eyes will certainly be beneficial for the students' practice afterwards as well."

A weight lifted off Robin's heart in an instant, and she had to smile at his through and through logical and desperately appropriate reasons for asking her assistance. "Of course I will help you. Anytime, with anything. You know that. And having someone to explain the female part will probably be good too."

"Likely. To be honest however, while those are all perfectly good reasons to ask you to do this with me, they aren't truly my measure. I rather know your presence is going to make the entire ordeal a lot more bearable, as it always does. And in the end, I would simply hate to dance with anyone but you, no matter the circumstances." He added after a moment, again in a shocking easy sincerity that almost had Robin's heart leaping out of her chest.

Her smile broadened until it was allconsuming in its radiance, like all those times when she failed to suppress the stupid hope that lived in every shadow of her mind these days. No. He would hate dancing with anyone else because Robin was the only person he found bearable to touch. Not because of any other reason. Who wouldn't choose a friend over a stranger? Her smile fell, her heart sank, and she couldn't help the hurt from showing in her eyes at least.

"You really should stop that, you know…" She finally said in a sad chuckle that was heartbreaking even to her own ears.

"What?" Snape asked in return, and his expression fell in accordance with Robin's. He looked almost taken aback, confused at least, about whatever he had obviously done wrong this time and Robin felt even worse for speaking up at all. She didn't dare to answer. So he asked again. "Stop what?"

"Forcing this ridiculous hope onto me." She said before she knew, with a sad smile and a gaze that dug souldeep into his. "Every time you say things like that, it forces a little more hope to seep through the cracks in my walls, and I need you to stop. I don't want to hope, I can't bear it… Hope is dangerous. It's torturing me."

Her words seemed to confuse him even more, and while he frowned deeply at her, the subtle hurt in his own eyes was undeniable. He wanted to understand what he had done wrong… she knew. But he hadn't done anything wrong at all, nothing but being who he was. And being who he was, he wouldn't let go that easily. "Hope for what, Robin? You have to be a bit more precise if I am to understand. And I would very much like to."

The sight, the thought almost broke Robin entirely, while his blissful oblivion almost made her laugh in return. Oh, how stupid could she be? For the first time he had done absolutely everything right by being completely honest, by trying to talk about an issue, and here she was, doing absolutely everything wrong in return. It wasn't his fault that she loved him too much, and it wasn't his fault that she couldn't handle her own stupid emotions.

"Nevermind." She sighed finally, tearing her eyes away from his to look down at her empty coffee mug on the table. "I'm just being stupid because my brain is too tired to function. You know me… I talk nonsense sometimes when I'm exhausted. If it wasn't for the stupid potion that just refuses to change colour, I'd be going straight to bed."

"Actually, it changed colour twenty minutes ago and I put a stasis on it to continue the work tomorrow afternoon."

Robin groaned in frustration and closed her eyes before hiding her face in her hands. "See! I didn't even notice! Great friend you have in me… and an even worse colleague. I'm such a failure…"

For a moment it was silent in the lab, and while Robin just hoped that she hadn't entirely screwed things up, she could practically hear his mind working at light speed. Gods, he had only said he quite liked to dance with her… and she'd gone on to make a scene of it. Great. So much for being better.

"To tell you the truth, I haven't the remotest idea what to do in a moment like this. What to say or do that would make things better for you and not worse. But I assume… perhaps this is the kind of situation where an embrace might prove helpful?" He finally spoke up, reluctantly and more than a little uncertain about his assessment of the situation, but without a hint of discomfort or doubt about the underlying offer he was making. Robin's hands dropped from her face in an instant, and before she knew, her eyes were filling with tears of adoration and exhaustion and overwhelm. His brows furrowed in return, his face a careful layer of neutrality.

Robin wanted to reply, wanted to say how damn right he was in that assumption, wanted to assure him that she wasn't being so bloody emotional because of anything he had done wrong, but because of all the things he was doing right. But all she could do was to nod, and then push herself off her stool to cross the space between them. Snape for his part stayed perched on the edge of his seat when Robin wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he pulled her flush against him when his arms circled her waist in return. They were almost the same height like this, or at least closer to it, which allowed Robin to hide her face in the soft fabric in the crook of his neck when her tears finally started spilling over. She didn't even know why exactly she was being so bloody stupid right now, so ridiculous and pathetic and weird… Her almost-slip of emotions hadn't backlashed. Her secret was still safe. Their experimental potion was intact and waiting to be continued. She would get to dance with him tomorrow, and help him with a class. She even was wrapped up in the most comforting hug ever at the moment, if that alone wasn't enough reason to be happy! Everything was bloody perfect. And yet, when he ever so subtly started playing with the tips of her hair that cascaded down her back, a strangled sob escaped her lips and he stopped in an instant.

"No, please…" She sniffed before she could think better of it. His hands in her hair had felt so nice… a hint of a sign that he enjoyed their closeness as well. "Please keep doing that."

It took a few seconds before he complied, but once he did, Robin sighed under her breath, and she was almost sure that she felt him smile against her shoulder in return. True or not, the idea sufficed to send a shiver down her spine, and finally she found herself able to relax. The tension left her body like a burn washed away by the sweet relief of a cooling water, and while she sunk deeper into the warm comfort of another perfect embrace, her spiralling emotions became subject to her will once more. It really was alright… they were alright.

"I'm really looking forward to dancing with you tomorrow." Robin finally said, in a calm tone and with a calm mind once again. He deserved to know that much at least, and it was a perfectly appropriate thing to say. "The circumstances… nah, but as long as we're suffering through it together, it will be alright."

"I take it then that an embrace really does make you feel better. I shall have to remember." He replied in amusement, and while that did make Robin smile, she also wasn't fooled over the astonishment he tried to hide behind it. Indeed, it was rather sad to think that he wouldn't know how comforting the embrace of a beloved person could be. Or perhaps he simply doubted that his embrace would have this effect on her. Either way, Robin made a mental note to make him understand and believe both in the nearer future.

"You shall indeed, I do feel a lot better. Always, with you." She sighed softly and closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling of his arms around her now that she could focus on it at last. "Still am beyond tired though."

"Perhaps you should go to bed. Tomorrow certainly will be exhausting enough with all the dunderheads stumbling through the room and tripping over their own two feet."

"We should totally play bullshit bingo with the idiotic things they might say or do…" Robin chuckled to herself and absentmindedly traced the seams of his robes she could reach with her fingertips. "That might just make the entire ordeal more amusing. For us, at least."

"How… temptingly unprofessional." He drawled in return, and the deep tone of his voice being so delightfully juxtaposed by his words made Robin snicker even more. "We most definitely should play indeed."

"I think I'm a bad influence on you." She yawned, and somehow it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her legs from giving out beneath her, now that her entire body was relaxing and being held up by his. "And I would have to say that I love it."

Her words made Snape chuckle, which was a sound so exquisite in its low rumbling depths that it sent new waves of shivers all over Robin's body, which left goosebumps in their wake in return. Bloody hell, he most definitely could feel the effects he had on her now… But at least he was kind or indifferent enough not to comment on it. She could always blame it on being cold or tired or something of that sort, should the necessity arise.

"You certainly have the strongest influence on me, and I daresay you are the only one I allow myself to be affected by in the first place."

"Well, if I'm the only one, being the strongest is hardly an accomplishment. And I would be the strongest and the weakest at the same time, you know…"

"Will you just take a compliment when I accidentally give you one for once, you insufferable little creature?"

"I can try." Robin grinned at his half humoured and half feignedly annoyed tone. "Even though I technically wouldn't call 'insufferable little creature' a compliment."

"But I would." Snape returned, and his smirk didn't need to be seen to make its way straight to Robin's heart, making it soar. "You are indeed quite tiny, as well as considerably different from any average humanness, and you most definitely are insufferable."

"Thanks…" She snorted, then stifled another yawn and wondered for a moment what would happen if she just fell asleep right in this spot; she was hardly supporting her own weight anymore anyway. Chances were high he'd wake her right back up or she'd cause him trouble if he tried not to, which wouldn't be much of a gain in either direction, and thus she banned the idea into the back of her mind.

"It seems like that was quite a weak attempt at humour on my end, going by your response. My apologies."

"No, I'm sorry, it really was funny! I'm just too tired to appreciate it properly."

"I still stand by my suggestion that you should go to bed. Teaching is more exhausting than one would assume, especially if it involves watching fifty students at once."

"You're right… I know."

That seemed to be the cue for both of them to ever-reluctantly let go of each other in the same silent agreement as always, and for Robin to sigh softly in disappointment at the loss of his delectable warmth and comfort in return. Yet, she didn't let any of it seep into her expression as she went to pick up her backpack from the other table and only turned back to Snape when she halted at the door before letting herself out.

"I really am looking forward to tomorrow." She said once again even though she'd told him already, but she couldn't help it. The excitement was there and it was strong, and he deserved to know. "I miss dancing with you."

He gave her one of his rare smiles in return, a genuine one that wasn't teasing or humoured but simply content and perhaps just a little excited as well. "This time I would like to ask you to dance though, if you will let me."

"Well, then you simply will have to be faster than me, won't you?" Robin smirked at him, wiggling her eyebrows for a second, and then had to laugh at her own ridiculous silliness. It really was too late for her own good. "Goodnight, Severus."

"Until tomorrow." He replied, and when Robin stepped out into the hallway with a huge smile lingering on her face, she couldn't help but think that perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing that their plans for tomorrow had been changed. Maybe she would have to thank Sprout for being absent at some point.

______________________________

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crystxlclear · 3 years

Text

sudden desire

chapter six: previously on: chaotic stupid

part seven of sudden desire

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / masterlist

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

pairing: marcus pike x original female character (coraline meyer)

word count: 8.2k (oh yikes)

warnings: no beta read, brief mentions of pregnancy i guess?

author’s note: this took me weeks to write oh my god

Coraline hasn’t told anyone about Marcus’ offer. Not even Loren, when they’d met for the first time in months, when her boyfriend finally got a night off work to look after Maisie. Not even when they’d drunk too much wine and her head was so fuzzy that she probably would have told anyone anything, if they’d asked. She’s not even sure where she’d start.

Coraline has never been the best at keeping secrets. At least, not her own, and definitely not when she was younger, and she’s always wondering whether that’s why the media seem to think she’s easy prey for their rumours. It never seemed to bother Scott; he was the same, so open and willing to talk about anything and everything with anyone who asked. But it’s different with Marcus. He’s private by necessity but he’s also private by choice, too. She wonders if he’s always been like that, if before the heartbreak he’d told her about occurred, if he’d opened up to people. If what had happened to him had made him closed off. He’s never seemed like a closed book before (and, hell, maybe he isn’t, maybe he just doesn’t want to relive those times; and he doesn’t have to tell her anything, anyway) but he’d opened up to her after he’d made his ‘baby suggestion’. And all she can think of now, since he’d recounted the stories, was that those women - the ex-wife who’d claimed he was too ‘nice’, who’d claimed he was too ‘clingy’ and ‘needy’, and all that utter bullshit, and the one who’d left him for another man, left him alone in D.C. without a single person to lean on - must be completely insane to think that he isn’t good enough for them. Marcus Pike is too good for anyone, she thinks. He’s the best person she knows. Marcus Pike makes Coraline want to be a better person. They didn’t end up ordering takeout that night, like they always did. Coraline had found herself reaching to the back of her cupboards, searching blindly for some ingredients she wasn’t even sure she had, just for him. Marcus loves breakfast. Like, he really loves it, she’s come to find. And at any time of the day, really. And there’s a diner he frequents; it’s near his office, on the other side of town, tucked away just out of Cora’s reach. Though, he has taken her there once before - just after they first met, when she’d tagged along with her older brother to the FBI debriefing, to check his gallery was secure; she’d thought it was a date, until he’d prefaced his offer with an insistence that it was ‘just as friends’; Marcus had spent the whole time raving about the pancakes he ate every Friday — a treat for a long week’s worth and a change from his usual burger and fries — how he’d found the place by accident and it was part of his daily routine, now, until Coraline had given in and let him order for her, since he knew the place better than she did - most of the time, they see each other when it’s late, when he’s already been for his almost daily pancake-fix and she’s collapsed to the sofa with her legs draped over the armrest. They haven’t been back since, though she’d jump at the chance if he ever asked again. Coraline may be a pretty awful cook, and she may not be able to make pancakes as good as the ones he likes, but surely it’s just the sentiment that counts. He’s spent far too many evenings eating greasy Chinese food at her behest, insisting that he’s fine with it, because it makes her feel better. It’s the least she could do. She’d spent an hour making perhaps the world’s worst pancakes - even as Marcus insisted that she didn’t have to cook for him, that they could just order pizza or something if they wanted a change - pancakes so bad that she’d had to drench the damn things in syrup just to disguise the odd sour taste that somehow tinged every mouthful. Marcus had eaten it without issue, even as she’d apologised endlessly for her dreadful culinary skills and insisted that he didn’t have to eat them if he didn’t like them. They’d made him smile, though. And it melted away the last dregs of awkwardness between them. That was the pancakes’ purpose. It didn’t matter that they were utterly terrible, borderline inedible and a little lumpy.

But, when Monday rolls around and her older brother, Daniel, comes to her with his regular insistence that she brings that ‘nice FBI agent she’d made friends with’ to their weekly dinner at his house, she took him up on the offer, for a change. She’s never asked because she’s always assumed he would say no; they weren’t dating and it was a little weird. Surely an invite to weekly family dinners was something couples did.

She always ignores Daniel, used to the persistent insistence to ask him. Relenting — finally — comes with the sense that she feels as if she owes him now, though. To make it up for her dreadful pancakes with Daniel’s wife’s cooking, which was always amazing. To make up for the week of unforgivable ignorance. To help them move past the ill-thought-out offer of a baby. She’s sure he’ll still say no, when she calls him on his lunch break, when she knows he’ll be sat at the counter in that same diner, enjoying that brief moment of time away from paperwork. Their lunch breaks line up, those rare and all-too-rare moments when they have time to relax, the tension in their shoulders owed entirely to their morning workloads melting away at the soft sounds of the other’s voice.

His voice is pleasant, like it always is; Marcus Pike’s voice is like serenity to her, all gentle and familiar, and, this time, he sounds amused when he answers the phone. “Well, this is a nice surprise.” His voice crackles through the phone. The reception in the diner is terrible - it’s the only thing he ever seems to complain about - but she can still make out the sound of the smile in his voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Marcus.” Coraline hums, shoving the last of her laundry into the washing machine, her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. “I’m calling with an invitation.”

“An invitation?” He ponders, musing over the idea. “To one of those glamorous celebrity parties you’re always telling me about?”

She scoffs. “Oh, you wish, Pike. It’s an invite to my brother’s for dinner. Incredibly glamorous, I know.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments. She almost regrets asking. She does when he replies. “Are you sure?” He questions. “I’m not sure-”

Coraline nods as if he can somehow see her through the phone. “I’m sure,” she insists, “Besides, Daniel and Kimmy want you to come.”

“Coraline, I don’t know-”

“Marcus, don’t make me beg.” She chuckles, but it’s a nervous chuckle. She knew he would say no; that’s why she hasn’t asked him, to avoid this awkward conversation between them when he was uncomfortable and looking for a subtle way to turn her down without hurting her feelings. “Please.”

There’s another pause as he lets out another muffled laugh. His tone is teasing when he speaks again; she can practically see the smirk as he sips his coffee. “And what’s in it for me?”

She bites the inside of her cheek, stifling a giggle.

She could think of a lot of ways to repay the favour.

Cora pushes through the onslaught of entirely… inappropriate thoughts, especially to have about your best friend and offers up the most innocent of offerings, though her voice slips to find that low, rumbling register reserved only for the discrete. Mundane words tipped in something intriguing. “I’ll never make you pancakes again.”

“Deal.” He snaps far too quickly through the phone.

Her mouth falls open. “Marcus,” she gasps, mock offence in her voice.

There’s silence for a moment. “Sunshine,” Marcus calls out through the static, like he’s sure he’s actually offended her. Like he could ever do that. “I thought your pancakes were great.”

Even a lie sounds like the truth coming from his lips.

“Damn right they were,” she insists.

When she lies, even when it’s laced with laughter, it sounds like one. She’s glaringly aware that’s a complete contradiction, given her job.

“Pancakes- real pancakes, diner pancakes- on me for a month.”

“Tempting.”

“...Two months?”

“Fine, fine. If you insist.”

The rush of breath that escapes her in relief is so embarrassingly loud, she’s sure he can hear her. She’s glad he’s not there, watching her, so he can’t see the wide, uncontrollable, entirely tooth-filled grin that splits across her face; she’s sure she looks maniacal, sat in her trailer on set, covered in thick dustings of fake mud from that morning’s scenes.

She’s never been more thankful for the solitude of a phone call before.

“I do insist. I’ll pick you up at five.”

Amusement, again, peeks through in his tone. She’s sure he’s eating pancakes — those blueberry pancakes with mountains of ice cream — because they’re the only thing that makes him happy like this, especially on a heavy workday. “In that super-fancy car of yours?”

She’s had her car for twelve-years. But it’s even older than that, fixed up by her father in his garage for what seemed like years. It’s an old run-down black Camaro from the seventies that she’s had since she was sixteen; far too trusty and sentimental to let go of, driving her cross-country from LA to DC without a hitch those six-months ago. It lives in the private parking lot down the street from her apartment complex, tucked away, out of use most days, because the traffic of DC is far too heavy in the mornings and it’s easier to walk or take the Metro instead. Weekly nights spent at Daniel’s on the opposite end of the city gave her an excuse to pull her car from its designated parking space and navigate the busy streets to the comforting hum of the engine.

Coraline knows Marcus loves her car, as much as he jokes about it. It’s evident in the way his face lights up when he sees her sat there, parked down the street outside the FBI headquarters; his smile illuminated by the harsh street lamps overhead, cutting through the darkness alongside the bright nearby office lights and flickering neon signs that cast stained glass shadows on the sidewalk. He’s watching her as she taps her fingers in time to a song she doesn’t recognise on the radio.

Marcus ducks into the car with a ‘hello’ lingering on his lips and ducks to kiss Coraline’s cheek; it’s a friendly gesture that lingers, not unfamiliar as a display of friendly affection between them, but still swelling that giddy sense of happiness in her chest like it’s the first time.

“I brought the beer.”

Coraline glances over at him warmly as she starts up the car. The engine rumbles to life, almost sounding unhealthy. She reaches over and squeezes his shoulder a little, fingers falling down his arms.

Marcus had insisted he bring something; a repayment for dinner, for Daniel and Kimmy inviting him over. She’d insisted he didn’t need to — neither of them would mind; they just wanted to meet the lead in so many of Coraline’s stories, for real this time — but then he’d insisted that he had to, that his mother would never let him live it down if she found out he forgot his manners and turned up without a thank you gift. So she’d told him to bring beer (not wine, definitely not wine, for Daniel’s sanity’s sake). And he’d obliged.

Not just that cheap beer, either. But the expensive kind, the kind you could only find in certain places if you were looking for it. He’s spared no expense.

He doesn’t need to impress them, though. They already like him well enough, on the basis of Coraline’s endless stories.

“Is what I’m wearing okay?” He questions as he smooths his hands over the front of his suit jacket. “I didn’t have time to change.”

He’s still wearing his work clothes — somehow still relatively undisturbed even after hours of the paperwork he’d been half-complaining about to her the night before — yet he still looks great. He’d probably look great in just about anything. Coraline looks entirely underdressed next to him; just blue jeans and a white shirt, and the thin golden pendant her mom had given her the night before her wedding hangs against her chest. She doesn’t wear it much anymore, not since the divorce. But Marcus had seen it the other day, while he was waiting for her to finish getting ready, perusing the expanse of her drawers, intrigued by the jewellery that hung from a stand. He’d said it was beautiful - with the delicately carved bird in the middle, surrounded by flowers - and she found herself reaching for it every morning since.

She’s not sure why. She just likes to wear it, now.

“You look great.” As always.

He scans what she’s wearing, casual and, as the wheels being their customary groan when she sets the car in reverse. “It’s not too much?” He’s shuffling awkwardly, hands tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket. Is he nervous?

She watches as he moves, shifting slightly in his seat; she’s watching from the corner of her eyes, half her focus on Marcus, the other on pulling out onto the busy road. He’s staring straight ahead, out at the car ahead of them, like the license plate is somehow the most interesting thing in the world right now. His brows are furrowed. The air between them is thick with anticipation and it’s like something has changed; for good or bad, she’s never sure with them anymore, not these past few months, but his hand is gripping his knee and somehow everything seems heavy again.

He’s met Daniel before, it’s not that. Briefly, sure. But that couldn’t be it. He’s usually so relaxed and laid back, especially around her, never worried about making a joke or goofing off. She doesn’t like seeing him like this.

She reaches over and squeezes his hand; he steadies himself and tilts his head towards her. Her smile is warm and bright and comforting, and the gentle brush of her fingers over the hand that grips his knee relieves the inexplicable anxiety that has strangled him from the moment she’d invited him to dinner. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what it means, what any of it means. Why things are suddenly so different between them after six months of being nothing but friends.

Why he, for some godforsaken reason, thought suggesting they have a baby together was a good idea.

Did he really want that?

Either way, he’s pretty sure Coraline doesn’t. Not with him, at least.

Cora hums, eyes dropping to herself and the wrinkled jeans she’d fished out from the back of her wardrobe. “Least you made an effort.”

…

Daniel Meyer is seven years older than Coraline. He’d always been fiercely protective of his younger sister when they were growing up; not in that abrasive, overbearing and destructive way, the way when your life is governed strict and rigid, but Daniel Meyer didn’t take kindly to people hurting his sister. Growing up, he helped her deal with things - the bullying in high school, the heartbreak of her first breakup - so it only seemed fitting that, when she’d moved to D.C., the same place he’d called home with his family for eight years, that he would do the same. That’s how their weekly family dinners were born, from his insistence to help his younger sister settle into her new home, in a new city she barely knew.

For the longest time, Scott Meyer was public enemy number one to him. Sometimes she wonders, now that it’s all over, the divorce is final - now that he’s out of her life for good - if he still is. Or if they’ve really all moved on like she thinks they have.

The second they arrive at his front door, greeted warmly by the smell of pie and a grinning Kimmy, wearing an apron and slightly flustered, looking just as welcoming as always. Her blonde waves - the waves Coraline has always been so jealous of - are pinned up haphazardly out of her face, half-spilling down her back from the clip that tries to hold it in place.

“Good evening.” Her voice sounds like a song, light and sweet, and her smile is even wider than usual as she glances between her sister-in-law and Marcus, who stands a little behind her, radiating that familiar confidence that Coraline is used to. The half-hour drive had relaxed him enough that, now he’s met with Kimmy’s friendly face, he’s the one that’s comforting her, with a gentle hand on her back and the silent reassurance that things will be okay.

Coraline is mostly worried about him. She's still not entirely sure he wants to be here. She doesn’t blame him.

Kimmy leans forward and kisses Coraline’s cheek in greeting, the usual gesture.

“This- well, you know Marcus.” Cora ushers towards her best friend beside her when she pulls back.

“Marcus, of course!” Her face lights up even more. “I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.” Kimmy’s tone is amused. Her eyes waver towards Coraline, a knowing look in her eyes.

“It’s great to finally meet you, for real this time.”

Kimmy’s eyebrow quirks up at Coraline for a moment, the hint of a smirk as Marcus introduces himself, that same FBI Agent-trained surety tipping the edges of his voice, before she finally ushers them inside. It’s starting to get cold; the evening chill is creeping in from the river beside the house, reaching out towards them. Coraline is glad she’d tossed a coat onto the backseat of her car before she’d left and Marcus tugs his suit jacket tighter around himself. “Come in before you both freeze to death.”

The house is alive with the joyous yet shrill screams of children. Coraline’s nephews, to be exact. It always is. Every night. Every week she turns up and they’re running around, playing whatever game they deem fit that evening. Half the time, Coraline gets pulled into their games, whenever she’s not helping Kimmy in the kitchen (which isn’t often, because she’s hopeless at it). Of course, today’s no different.

The two of them are darting around the living room, screaming bloody murder as they wear themselves out; Finley, the oldest, is chasing Elliot, his curls falling haphazardly over his eyes. She can’t tell what they’re yelling about - she never can; it’s just a tangled mess of screamed words - but Elliot is giggling so much that he has to stop every couple of minutes to catch his breath. Finley stops with him, pulling himself from their games for a second to wait as they both regain their composure and carry on. They wear themselves out before dinner and then everything seems to go off without a hitch.

Cora hangs her coat on the hooks by the door and kicks off her sneakers, and Marcus follows suit with his jacket and dress shoes. He looks to her for guidance, that immediately understandable hesitation of being in an unfamiliar house, and this silent agreement settles between them as she sweeps her way into the living room. Her footsteps were light; so light, in fact, that she reached her nephews without disturbing them, startling Elliot when she scooped him up in her arms and spun him around. He complains at first, ducking his head away as she tries to kiss his cheek, letting out the most dramatic and exaggerated noises. Eventually, he gives in and curls his arms around her neck, pulling her close for a second, before he starts to kick again, restless in her arms.

Finley takes to wrapping himself around her right leg and suddenly the three of them end up sprawled out and giggling brightly on the carpet.

Marcus watches from the doorway. He thinks she’ll be a great mom someday. It’s the little things she takes in her stride.

“Hello to you too, Cora.” The low, amused voice of Coraline’s brother, Daniel, comes from inside the living room.

“Hey there.” She’s still giggling. She can’t help it. Finley and Elliot unhook themselves from her and each other and resume their endless laps of the couch.

Daniel stands over her with raised eyebrows. His tie has long-since been discarded and he cuts a casual figure as he cradles the youngest of the Meyers, Piper. She’s only six months and the smiliest baby Cora has ever seen. Usually, she’s asleep by the time Coraline arrives, either cradled in her father’s arms or tucked away in the crib upstairs; today, her legs are kicking back and forth and her hands are fisting into his dress shirt. She’s restless - she knows sometimes that she is, that when they finally cradle her to sleep, it’s best that they leave her or risk jolting her awake for the rest of the night - but she’ll let her wriggle around in her arms for hours if it means catching up on the time she’s missed with her niece all those nights she’s been asleep.

“I brought Marcus.” Cora points towards Marcus as he leans against the doorframe, watching her with fond eyes. She tilts her head back to look at him; he’s smiling and she wants to reach for him. She reaches for Daniel’s extended hand instead, pulling herself up from the floor. She groans uncomfortably, her back aching a little. “Marcus, you’ve met my brother, Daniel.”

Coraline reaches out for her niece; that brooding feeling swells bright and burning again when she takes her, cradling her close into her chest, and she can’t help but glance up at Marcus as Daniel moves to greet him - just barely acquaintances but familiar enough to avoid those awkward initial introductions. He’s watching her, still, as she says ‘hello’ to her niece and gently rests her cheek against the top of Piper’s head. It’s like they’re both wrapped up in that moment where it’s just the two of them - all too fleeting, cut short by Daniel’s greeting and the persistent shouting of children - but it feels lovely. Even if this moment is all they’ll ever get.

Coraline savours the moment with her niece because it’s rare and often fleeting; her, Daniel and Kimmy’s schedules are crammed tight with work and unavoidable commitments and that weekly dinner is the only time each week they can spare to see each other. If Piper is asleep, then Coraline won’t get to say ‘hi’ to her niece. It’s an unfortunate consequence of their careers.

“That’s Elliot-” She points her finger at her smallest nephew. “-and that’s Finley-” Then to the tallest of the two. “-and this… this is Piper.” She bounces the tiny baby lightly in her arms, turning her body so Marcus could get a glimpse at the small smile that pulled at Piper’s lips as her small fist grabbed at Coraline’s shirt.

She’s already told him about them all before. He knows their names. But this is the first time he’s ever met the kids. And it’s somehow maybe the most terrifying thing he’s done in a long time, including that one warehouse shootout his team found themselves in a few weeks earlier.

He feels overdressed and a little ridiculous, just stood there, looking like a lost puppy in the entryway, in his suit and tie. Unsure what to do with his hands or his eyes, or what the hell to say to cut through his quiet. He usually brought a change of clothes to the office if he knows he has somewhere to be but, somehow, in his blind panic at the idea of meeting the family, he’d forgotten to grab anything to change into. And that ease in meeting new people, that effortless skill he’d built up over years of practice, the perks of the job, just seems to have melted away the second he stepped into the house behind Coraline, under the well-meaning scrutiny of Kimmy. This is all normal for her - this weekly routine she’s fallen into - but it’s unfamiliar territory for him.

It almost feels like something it isn’t. Meeting the family. That point in a relationship when you first realise things are serious. Only this isn’t a relationship. And he’s already met Daniel and Kimmy before, even if it was briefly, and while he was working and distracted with planning a stakeout. And Coraline. Always Coraline. But something about her smile just commanded attention, back then - it still does - even when she tries to blend into the background. Once he noticed her. Sat alone at an empty conference table, comically-oversized name badge pinned to the front of her dress, her lips curling up a little as she sipped the sour FBI coffee.

Everyone else had passed the glass-walled room without even a second glance.

He, on the other hand, was convinced he’d just seen a ghost. She’d almost startled him, breath leaving his chest. An utter cliche.

Marcus had recognised her face from TV - though, admittedly, he wasn’t really up-to-date on pop culture, definitely lingering a couple of decades behind, age and time catching up on him, spare time buried beneath a mountain of paperwork to distract himself from Teresa and the unfamiliarity of D.C. - but he always remembers thinking she was pretty. Really pretty. But he always finds it a little embarrassing how much she a hold over him that day, how he’d had to take a second to psych himself up, talk himself down from that nervous ledge he was staring over, before he even thought about entering the room.

It’s weird, looking back, thinking how much has changed. But the changes keep coming, thick and fast, and sometimes it becomes less and less obvious what they are anymore.

“Marcus.” Daniel reaches out a hand for him to shake. He shakes it graciously and says his hellos. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

That’s the second time he’s heard that today. Coraline rolls her eyes a little. It’s not the first time she’s heard it, either. It almost makes Marcus laugh but then she smiles again, half-concealing a grin, and he forgets what he’s thinking about for a moment.

But then he wonders what she tells them about. Whether those stories are good or bad, whether they paint him in colour or in black and white.

With Coraline, he figures it’s probably the brightest landscape of technicolour, regardless of who she’s talking about.

“I’m glad Cora finally asked you to come.”

“Well, you talk too much. I didn’t want to bore him.” Cora shrugs, her full attention on Piper.

“More like scare him away.”

He’s not sure she could ever scare him away.

“Finley is terrifying,” she admits with a giggle but she seems distant. She looks up to raise an eyebrow at him again. Her words are slow, almost drawn out. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to get out while you still can.” It’s meant to be light and joking, and Daniel laughs at her words. Given the way she’s looking at him, he’s not sure.

She just keeps looking at him like there’s no one else around.

She can’t help it. She keeps trying. It isn’t working.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Daniel insists as the boys rush past Marcus; he has to step out of the way to avoid them, smiling as they manoeuvre around him and race out of sight into the back of the house. He smiles fondly as they pass. “They’ll calm down in a second.”

“You hope they’ll calm down.” Coraline jabs her older brother in the ribs playfully. He chuckles as lightly as he can but it's obvious he’s tired; his shoulders slump and his eyes linger closed a little longer than normal, Coraline notices. He’s been working flat-out at his gallery every day, then running home to help with the kids. And Piper is a restless baby - difficult to get to sleep which means that, if she’s asleep when she arrives, she can’t say hello for risk of waking her up - so, unless Daniel or Kimmy are holding her while the house is still alive and humming around her, she refuses to fall asleep. “I think-” She looks towards Marcus. He’s inched closer into the room, now, but he’s still lingering like he needs to be invited in. “-you’ll just have to get used to it.” She hums.

“I’m still not used to it and they’re my kids,” Daniel grumbles, almost to himself.

“Piper seems okay with it.” Marcus points out. He watches as his best friend cuddles the tiny baby close to her chest.

Piper’s looking up at Cora with the brightest eyes. They’re Coraline’s eyes - Daniel’s too, he assumes - that light emerald green that sparkles beneath the warm living room light. Her mouth is in an ‘o’ shape, fascinated, as she stares. She looks utterly transfixed by her aunt’s face as she carries on their idle, gentle conversation, lightly bobbing her up and down, cradling her softly to sleep. Her eyelids were drooping, sleep gently pulling her in. She’s humming gently, whenever she’s not speaking; Marcus isn’t even sure she realises she’s doing it. That it’s just some subconscious instinct inside her, telling her to sing to the baby so she can sleep. She’s drawing gentle circles on her back through her onesie. Slow, idle circles that slow the wriggles and the kicking of his legs, lulling her off to sleep ever-so-slowly.

It’s like she’s a natural. She knows exactly what to do every time; with Piper, with Maisie. It’s like second nature and there’s this even brighter glow, brighter than usual, when she settles into the role. She takes it all in her stride and seems to forget the world around her just for a moment.

“How do you do that every time? Can you come and do that every night?” He jokes. But he doesn’t seem to be entirely joking.

She hums. “Perhaps-” She rests her cheek against the top of her head as lightly as she dares without disturbing her. “Perhaps I’m just a superhero.”

The yells of kids echo through the house, the hammering of feet pounding against the wood floor. Kimmy’s muffled exasperated calls for quiet come from the kitchen, falling on deaf ears as the boys continue to charge through the back of the house.

Coraline catches her brother’s gaze. “Go and help.” She’s noticed the way he’s been watching his daughter anxiously, worried that she won’t fall asleep through all the noise and excitement and the gentle hum of Coraline’s made-up song. “I’ve got her,” she insists.

“Are you sure?”

Piper is slowly drifting off to sleep, even despite the noise. Just at the warmth of her aunt cradling her and the gentle hum of her sweet voice lulling her asleep. “I’ve got her,” she repeats. “Go and help Kimmy.”

Daniel’s shoulders slump in relaxation. He mouths a ‘thank you’ as he jogs from the room, calling out to his sons to stop them from charging around, insisting that they wash their hands and settle down for the sake of their sister.

Now, it’s just Coraline, Marcus and a half-asleep Piper left alone in the living room.

The tension in the air is thick and heavy for a moment.

“Marcus, you’re staring,” she points out. She’s not even looking at him, just can just feel the weight of his kind gaze and it sets her heart racing at a hundred miles an hour. “I’d let you hold her-“ She says as he steps a little closer; now Daniel is out of the room, he’s relaxed. It’s like, without him there, he can pretend it’s just the two of them and Piper curled up content against Cora’s chest, even despite the yell of children’s voices and the unfamiliar surroundings. “-but, if I did that, we’d never get her off to sleep.”

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “I think she’s happier with you.” He settles beside her.

Coraline’s thumb brushes over Piper’s cheek and the baby smiles a tiny smile, eyes still close and fisting her hands tighter into the white material of her shirt. There’s a blissful silence that settles between the three of them — just for a moment — when she looks up at him beside her, watching the pair of them sway gently to a seemingly silent song. The weight of the moment engulfs them like a tidal wave.

“Marcus-“ she breathes out, barely loud enough for him to hear. But he does, in the relative silence, and the way she says his name rips the air from his lungs, like the first time she’d surprised him the day they’d met. Her green eyes are wide and wild and she’s looking between him and Piper like they’re the only things left in the world.

They could do it.

He knows what she’s going to say, if she had the chance. If Daniel hadn’t returned, calling out to them that dinner was ready.

They could do it. He knows they could, she knows they could. They could have this fleeting moment for as long as they both live. Their own little version of paradise, together. No matter how terrible the idea seems to be, they could. But Coraline knows she can’t stay in that world forever. It’s temporary and, as much as she wants that, all day, every day, for herself and not through someone else, she knows she can’t let herself get too in over her head.

Still, Marcus really does think she’ll be an amazing mom.

...

After much persuasion — and the promise of candy after dinner — Finley and Elliot finally settled down long enough for them to eat. Coraline had set Piper down to sleep in her crib upstairs, lingering perhaps a little too long to marvel down at her only niece, wondering what it would be like if she was looking down at her own daughter.

She knows it’s a hopelessly bad idea. That the feelings will catch up with her and pull her under again. Sometimes she just can’t help it.

She returns with that fake smile Marcus has become a pro at noticing. She looks wistful, longing in her eyes, disguised by the small smile that takes over her face when she slides into the seat at the dinner table beside him. She smooths out her shirt and jeans, wrinkled from the baby. Another smile, an assurance that Piper is okay and sleeping soundly upstairs, and the conversation moves on to mostly idle chatter, and Daniel asking Marcus questions about himself. Coraline keeps shooting her brother glances whenever he asks a new question that almost seems too personal. He doesn’t mind one bit, though.

Marcus finds Coraline’s free hand under the table and squeezes at some point. She doesn’t want him to let go.

“Auntie Cora?” Finley asks, leaning his chin on his hand to stretch across the table. His questioning call of her name breaks through the idle conversation they’re all having, like he’s demanding all their attention, and not just Coraline’s.

It steals a moment of quiet between them all.

“Nephew Finley?” She replies, mimicking his stance and the curious, furrowed-browed expression on his face.

“When are you going to have a baby, like Piper?”

It’s a loaded yet completely innocent question on his behalf. He’s merely a curious five-year-old with no ill intentions, and no reason to believe it’s anything other than a normal question; Coraline doesn’t even flinch, even when Kimmy scolds her son sharply and insists he eats the rest of his dinner. Though, Marcus still sees the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Instead, she just smiles and laughs that brightly enchanting laugh, tilting her head to the side in response to her nephew as he sinks back into his chair and pokes at his potatoes.

“Well, I don’t know,” she replies truthfully, “Soon, maybe.”

Marcus almost thinks her eyes waver towards him but it’s so quick that he reasons that, perhaps, he’s seeing things.

“Soon?” Daniel catches up with her words. “You seeing someone?”

“Oh-“ Coraline swallows thickly. She shakes her head. “No, no, not at all. I’m just- optimistic, I guess.”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you,” Kimmy poses.

Coraline hums. Marcus doesn’t see the way her gaze trails towards him. “I’m sure there is.”

...

The rest of dinner passed without any more questions on the matter, Finley’s attention switching towards Marcus instead. He was persistent, firing questions at him across the dinner table like he was leading an interrogation, but Marcus kept answering just as enthusiastically as the first time. He’d skirted around the facts a little - it wasn’t exactly a great idea to tell a child, seemingly without a filter, that you were an FBI agent - but the whole exchange had been wonderful. Coraline was sad to see it finish when Kimmy announced the boys could have dessert and they'd leapt from their seats to race towards the cookie jar.

Marcus had offered to help Kimmy wash up as a thank you but she’d brushed him off, and, eventually, he’d resigned to the living room with Daniel. It had taken Coraline months to convince Kimmy that she should let her help clean up, there was no way she would have accepted Marcus’ offer immediately.

Instead, it’s just Coraline and Kimmy, working in tandem to clean the dishes, while Daniel spends time with the kids after a long day at work, and pulls Marcus into their conversation like an old friend.

“I’m sorry about Finn. He’s-” Kimmy shakes her head as she sets another plate down in the drying rack. “He’s been going through one of those... phases lately.”

“It’s fine, Kim, truly.” Coraline sets a couple of dry plates down on the counter and turns to smile at her, before carrying on her job. Sometimes Kimmy jokes about how ridiculous it is that they use so many plates since Piper was born. “He’s just curious,” she insists. “And he makes everything a little more colourful.”

Kimmy chuckles. “That he does.” She washes down another plate. “So, Marcus is great.” She hums, changing the subject towards her with a quirk of an eyebrow and a small, knowing smirk on her face.

Coraline smiles. Though, it’s more to herself than Kimmy. “He really is, isn’t he?”

“Are you two… y’know… is there anything there or-?”

“Oh, no! No, no. We’re just-” Friends. “Just friends.”

“Well-“ She quirks an eyebrow at her sister-in-law. “-maybe you should? Just see how it goes. One date at a time.” Kimmy’s suggestion is as innocent as Finley’s question over dinner. She doesn’t understand the weight it holds. And she doesn’t expect her to, anyway. They’re close but just barely close enough. “Things might surprise you and it’ll do you good to get back out there again after, y’know-“

“No, we-” She shakes her head and turns to finish putting away the plates in the cabinet. In the quiet, she hears Marcus laugh from the living room. It’s one of those whole-hearted laughs, when his head lulls back and his eyes screw shut and crinkle at the corner. She wonders which one of them made him laugh like that, or what made him laugh like that. She hopes Daniel hasn’t pulled out the picture albums; he’s worse for that then their parents. But, since Daniel had made his fortune as an art buyer, eventually to the point he’d made enough to buy his own art gallery, a year ago, Coraline should have known that he and Marcus would get on. They had a lot in common. She’s so glad he likes him, though she can’t imagine a reason why he wouldn’t. “Friends. Friends.”

There’s another silence and she can feel Kimmy’s eyes burning into the back of her head. She turns to see the tail-end of a raised eyebrowed glare, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “Well, you never know unless you try, Cora.”

“There will be no trying,” Coraline insists, jabbing Kimmy in the side with her nail. She grins and lets her blonde tresses fall over her shoulder. “Of any kind. He doesn’t see me that way.” She finishes.

“Do you see him that way?”

Another pause.

“No.”

Maybe that’s a lie.

Maybe Kimmy knows that.

Maybe Marcus knows that.

Coraline isn’t sure whether she knows that, though.

“Sure about that?”

Coraline scoffs and turns to continue packing dried, clean plates into the cupboards. “You’re worse than Dan, sometimes.”

“Oh, I take offence to that.”

“Shut up and finish the dishes.” Coraline chuckles, crossing her arms and scowling at the lack of crockery left to dry.

“Just don’t write things off so quickly,” she insists, “It might surprise you.”

...

Daniel and Kimmy had tried to persuade them to stay for drinks late into the evening. The boys were shipped off to bed at the usual time, complaining that they wanted to stay up instead, as usual. But Marcus has work in the morning and Coraline has a long string of interviews; the idea of a late-night sounds less than ideal, her eyes already stinging at the idea of staying up any later than they had it.

Instead, they’d make their excuses and leave, ducking away into Coraline’s car with an exhausted groan. The boys had run wild right up until they went to sleep, nagging Coraline and Marcus to play with them every five minutes, even as Kimmy and Daniel insisted that they settle down and get ready for bed. It’s still late when they leave, though. D.C is eerily quiet as they weave through the roads, small crowds of people scattered through the repeating streets of suburbia.

The car ride home is silent of their voices. Not that uncomfortable silence, from before, when things had been awkward between them and neither of them were sure where the other stood. But that kind of satiated, happy and, admittedly exhausted, silence that pools over them. The low hum of the car engine and the radio is persistent in the space between them. Marcus keeps stealing glances over at her as she drives; he can’t help it, but he doesn’t think she notices, her eyes far too focused on the road ahead of her. And, if she does, she doesn’t mention it. Just keeps letting him glance over at her as the street lights illuminate the gentle angles of her face.

He’s glad she never mentions anything. He’d be too embarrassed if she did.

Instead, she’s lost in the music. That blissful flicker of emotion that crosses her face when she hears a song she likes, when her eyes light up at the sound of one of her favourite songs. Her radio is always tuned into some old rock station - he has no idea what it’s called, it’s usually just a continuous loop of different songs cut with the low gravelly voice of a man who sounded like he’d smoked one too many cigars - and most of the songs are the same songs she’s playing on her record player when he arrives at her apartment and she’s dancing around the kitchen while she cooks. He recognises a lot of them from his college days, songs he used to play with his band. It makes him feel old, sometimes, when she tells him they’re songs she spent her teen years with, even though there aren’t too many years between them.

It’s I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that plays now; she’s a sucker for those objectively-cheesy rock ballads. They’re her mom’s favourites, too. And, maybe he won’t admit it, but Marcus has heard her favourites enough to count them amongst his, now. Maybe he just likes the way they make her smile. Coraline is humming along, her fingers drumming a steady rhythm against the top of the steering wheel idly as her eyes follow the road ahead. Every so often, a flicker of neon tints her in colour when they pass a takeout, the only things still open and busy. The curve of her profile and each curl of her hair is highlighted in red.

It’s these moments of distracted bliss, when everything seems to exist without a care in the world, that he likes the most.

It never lasts long enough.

He insists she just parks in the garage she usually uses, by her apartment building, and he’ll walk her home. She protests - because of course she does - offering to drive him all the way home instead, but it’s dark and even in this quiet, well-off part of town where the streets should be safe, you never know who might be lurking. Maybe it’s the things he’s seen and heard of in the FBI - everything he’s seen during his training, heard through whispers and stories in the office - but sometimes he can’t shake the simple action of making sure someone is safe.

It’s still silent between them as they near Coraline’s apartment complex. That short two minute walk down the quiet, tree-lined street that sparkles with chains of fairy lights. It’s lethargic and lingering, each step heavy with the weight of something that echoes through the quiet neighbourhood.

“Cora, I’m sorry.”

It comes out of nowhere and it worries her. And Coraline has absolutely no idea why Marcus is apologising to her. As far as she’s concerned, he hasn’t done anything wrong. At least, not that she knows of.

“For what?” She questions, brow furrowing up at him as they walk. Their hands keep brushing but she doesn’t have it in her to move her hand away.

“I had no right to drop the baby bomb on you like that,” he admits. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably. When his hand drops, his fingers brush against her knuckles. “I’m sorry if I made you feel trapped. It was a terrible idea. I should have thought-“

“Yes,” she blurts it out before she can stop herself. She’s not entirely sure she’s thought this through. But she can’t help it.

“Yes, what?”

“The offer.” Her whisper is loud in the suddenly-stifling silence of the street. “If it’s still on the table- yes. I’ll have a baby with you.”

“Coraline-” He gulps and stops dead in his tracks. They’re outside her gate, now. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you won’t.” Coraline insists. She steps closer to him, sea-green eyes staring up at him with heavy expectation. He’s the one that suggested it. He’s the one that had laid in bed until the early hours of the morning, losing precious moments of sleep as his brain swam with questions, wondering whether he should suggest this to her in the first place, or if it was an awful idea. But, somehow, he can’t seem to convince himself that this is a bad idea, that he should just let her down easy, now. It’s seeing her with Piper, seeing her with Maisie, seeing how she lights up around them.

If he can make her that happy, every single day, why the hell would he turn that opportunity down?

Besides, he’s pretty sure it would make him equally as happy. He’s thought about having kids since he was just a kid himself. And god knows the world seemed to have it out for him when it came to love, things aren’t happening any time soon; he can’t really think of anyone better than Coraline to have a baby with.

And, as much as Coraline knows how recklessly stupid the whole idea is, she can’t bring herself to want anything more or less than this. Than him. “It is a terrible idea, y’know?” She finds herself insisting, blinking up at him with those beautifully-wide eyes.

“Truly awful.”

“And there are a hundred different things that could go wrong.”

“Hundreds.”

“But-“

“Maybe we should… try? Maybe just for a little while. See what happens.”

“Maybe we should.” He exhales long and deep out of his nose. “Maybe…” He tilts her chin up towards his with one finger and suddenly he’s kissing her. His fingers brush her jaw, curving up towards her ear and brushing into her hairline at the nape of her neck. Even the soft touch of his hand against hers as they walked was driving her insane but this, this is on another level.

It’s more than the first time they kissed. Less of a brief touch of lips, more of a wave of relief flooding through them both, unfamiliar feelings surging up inside them. This kiss is full of urging anticipation. She’s pulling him closer to her before she can stop herself, their chests flush, lips and hands strong and insistent against each other.

The fumble to her front door seems like the most practised thing they’ve ever done. Familiar when it shouldn’t be, even as they bump into things on their way.

taglist: @wheresthewater

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x fem!oc #marcus pike #sudden desire #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x oc #the mentalist #original character #oc

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captaindodson · 3 years

Text

7AM confessions (t.h oneshot)

Synopsis: You just finished working a graveyard shift at your summer job. Just as you’re about to get into your car to leave to sleep the weekend away, a familiar face appears to confront you on what happened.

Paring: Tom Holland x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k+

Warnings: Angsty (?), Swearings??

Once your apple watch displayed 7 AM you knew the long week you had was finally over. The assembly line filled with car parts ready for inspection remain still and untouched as everyone switches off with the next group of shift workers who are already coming onto the floor. Luckly, its Friday, so you get to sleep the weekend away and reset your sleep schedule for your last week of shifts before the fall semester starts. You tidy up your small station and when you think you’ve done enough you turn around to leave and then you see your co-worker/work friend Raj approaching. You both wear matching white hard hats, blue gloves, white jackets, dark blue work pants, and brown steal toed boots.

“Hey, how was this morning,” Raj stops a few feet away and raises his hand to fist bump and you happily reciprocate before sliding your hands into your jacket pockets.

“It wasn’t a bad night, Lauren didn’t come in tonight cause she was sick with a stomach bug. Oh I did finally registered for my university courses during my break, and I got so lucky with my extra circulars.The moment I went to register there was only one spot left for the ones I wanted.”

Raj just nods and glances around the work station, inspecting to see you cleaned it to his standard. You notice his wandering eyes but you aren’t bothered by it. You’ve been in that position where you have to work a long eight hours on your feet and the person before you at your assigned station leaves it a mess and you’re stuck cleaning it for the first hour of your shift. So after he finishes inspecting he meets your eyes and nods in approval.

“Oh shit really? I should probably do that sooner rather than later. I’ve been going to university for three years and I almost always forget every time to register on time,” He replies.

“Don’t you have your final research seminar and reading seminar this year? I thought certain classes had a small capacity?”

“Oh. Well guess what I’m doing during my lunch break,”

You lightly laugh at him as the sound of a warning buzzer echoing through the factory floor goes off. You look around and see that most, if not all of your night shift people are already off the floor and you take this as your cue to leave.

“Anyway, talk to you later Raj,” he gives you small smile in response and steps around you to get started. You make your way off the floor and to your designated locker, providing some of the people from dayshift a warm smile as you walk past them.

You walk through a pair of white double doors which leads into a a bright baby blue hallway which eventually guides you to where the designated bathrooms are with the lockers. When you get to the end of the hall you turn left and head into the female washroom where the you’re met with an empty room. Usually, when everyone’s shift ends they’re rushing to get out (and you’re no exception). You would normally find yourself squeezing by people and dodging elbows trying to get to your locker but today is different. Staying behind for an extra few minutes to talk actually lets you take your time for once. By taking your time it also means the parking lot won’t be backed up as usual and you can drive home without any major delay to sleep your weekend away. That’s the only thing you have to look foreward to, your bed because there is no one at home, no roomates, no pets, no boyfriends, no nothing. The place you were at two months ago was totally different from where you are now. You lived abroad in London with your then boyfriend for six months until you broke it off because you were lost.

You had to get out because your identity slowly became tightly intertwined with the person you were with. Everything revolved around them and their job and you were going no where in life. Your dreams were pushed to the back of your mind as you stayed in fancy hotel suites, alone waiting for your ex-boyfriend to come back from an exhausted day on set to only desperately try to keep his eyes open when you two watched a movie or went out for a night on the town.

He really did try his best to make your time with him exciting even if he was burn out from working all day. He made small dates in your hotel room feel magical. He had your hotel room decorated in fairy lights and planned a romantic dinner looking over the city you two stayed in. He made love to you in the early hours of the morning to the organy rays of the morning sun. Or another time, when he wasn’t allowed to leave the hotel at all, he took you to the hotel roof to slow dance under the stars to music playing from that headphones you two shared. You’d pay a million dollars to experience these small moments over and over again.

Over a weekend back in London by yourself while Tom had to catch a flight last minute to do film re-shoots in LA, you decided to have a self-care night. After lighting some candles, ordering take-out, dimming the lights, and scrolling through Netflix to finally find a good-feel show, you finally sit comfortably on the couch and relax. You found a generic rom-com from the 2000’s that looked mildly interesting and even if the plot wasn’t any good you could still get a good laugh about it.

As the movie progresses and the main character struggles to choose between a boy and her dream job you find your mind slowly loosing focus with what is happening on the screen and reflecting it back into your own life. After a few seconds pondering you realize something, had no idea what you wanted to do. You were in your early twenties, you were doing school part-time online with a program you liked but you spent most of your time with Tom. Traveling to country to country to join him while he filmed, staying in hotel rooms waiting for him, sometime visiting set when you were allowed too, it was truly an exciting and calming lifestyle.

Even though you believed you finally found the guy that you could spend the rest of your life with, a second family you got along with, a place you could see yourself settling down in, you didn’t have anything for yourself. When you thought you of trying to return to in-class schooling with a larger course load and renting a place for the semester and trying to sustain a long-distant relationship with someone in the limelight, it just stressed you out. You knew it wouldn’t be easy and just seeing how deflated Tom looked when he returned to you after working, you knew the relationship would push him to his limits.

Even after initiate moments you realized how tired and over worked he was. The look in his eyes when he had to leave for work the next morning couldn’t go unnoticed. You felt your heart squeezing itself and your breathing became heavier. You would never want to cause Tom any pain on your behalf, and you can’t continue to drag your feet with your education because you felt like you . So, you did what you did best, shut someone out and leave. You made up lie about how this relationship wasn’t working on your end, broke it off and flew back to the town where you had been attending school online. Scrambling enough money together to buy a used car and a small studio apartment and apply to as many jobs as you could. You got lucky, that when you were applying that a car factory needed more summer students and they were paying their workers a decent living wage and you just jumped on it. The job helped you get settled but it also helped ignore the small amount of regret you felt. It is too late to turn around now and now you must live with your choices.

You shake yourself out of a daze you didn’t realize clouded your mind, and it seems your feet have carried you to the front of your small grey locker. It looks like what all typical high school lockers look except half the size. You raise your hand to the lock to do one full twist to the right, one full twist to the left, and half a twist to the right again and my the lock pops off with a light pull.

You reach in to collect your phone, black spring jacket, dark blue water bottle, then you reach into your jacket pocket to fish out your car keys. You hum in satisfaction when you feel the cool metal of your keys in your pocket. You drape your jacket over your arm as you shut the locker quietly and slide the lock over the hook and push it shut. You proceed to continue to follow the baby blue hallways until you’ve reached the double glass doors of the exit. You push open the glass door and is met with a cool morning breeze also paired with a peach colored sky.

You make your way across the concrete of the parking lot, following the line of different coloured cars parked next to each other, eyes wandering at the different licence plates, soaking up the calmness of the morning sun until you stop dead in your tracks. You look up to see someone leaning on the hood of your car. This person is dressed in some blue jeans, a black hoodie, dark red hat, and it seems they’re just casually looking down and scrolling through their phone unaware of your presence a couple feet away. You think for a minute before speaking, should you just walk back inside and get someone to confront this guy or should you just do it yourself? I mean it is your car in a private parking lot, someone will hear you scream right? After a few seconds go by you just say fuck as the longer you stand here the less time you get to spend sleeping.

“Ah hem, excuse me you’re leaning on my car. Can you please get off,”

You keep your distance and tightly grip your waterbottle. Just so you have a head start if you need run back into the factory or even defend yourself. Their fingers stop scrolling, but their gaze is still facing downwards, hood and hat hiding their features.

“Uh hello, you need to get out of this parking lot its a private. Ill call security if you don’t move, ”

You shallow nervously as the figure stays still, unresponsive. When it seems like this figure is just going to continue to ignore you they stand up abruptly causing you to jump.

“Hi Y/N,’ An english accent comes out from the hood and your expression changes from fear to dread in seconds. Heart still pumping fast in your chest and you feel yourself getting even more nervous.

“What are you doing here, Tom”, You cross your arms the best you can and start staring at your feet to avoid eye contact.

“Can’t I come visit my girlfriend after she finishes work,” Tom questions as his foots steps get louder as they get closer.

“I am not your girlfriend remember. Besides the point, how do you even know where to find me. I haven’t talked to you in two months.”

‘You left without a much of explanation. You said when I came home from LA that this was over because you couldn’t handle this relationship, it stressed you out to much. I thought everything was going good mutually good in all aspects of the relationship, but I guess I was wrong. After months of trying to unravel what I could have possible done wrong, I just had to find you and get the truth of why you left,”

He ignores your question as he bends his knees to try and get a look at your face. Your mind almost speeds up, unable to come up with a good enough half-assed response, you mouth blurts out the truth without much thought.

“I love that you’re able to pursue your dreams, and god Tom I wouldn’t want you to do anything to compromise that. But I want to be able to pursue my dreams too Tom. The only way I can do that is if I leave and doing a long-distant relationship hardly ever works out for anybody! I don’t want you wearing yourself out because of me and being long-distance was going to tear you apart,”

You sniffle away the tears building up in your eyes while focusing on the curves on the concrete.

“Darling, why didn’t you just talk to me? I would and do understand if you want to pursue something on your own. I would never want to settle for anything less. “

He reaches out a finger to find a place under your chin to lift your head gently so your eyes will meet. You glossy eyes meet his soft, gentle brown eyes and that alone makes you want to cry. You never meant to cause pain to reach those eyes, you just thought you were doing yourselves a favour.

“Baby, we could’ve done this together you know that. We would’ve never survived our first year together if we didn’t talk stuff out. Trying to make a relationship work with a person I’ve loved since our first date is worth the endless amount of stress life causes. Y/N, my darling, I would do anything to make you happy but also stay in my arms forever,”

His soft tone makes your knees weak and that is when the dam of tears breaks from your eyes and they flow down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I-I just thought I was doing the right thing for both of us. I was watching a movie and I started stressing my sell-out and just thinking for myself .I’m sorry I put you through this, I know I can’t turn back time, but please forgive me for causing you any pain because my love for you got me all fucked up, “ You say trying wipe away the salty tears dripping down your face.

“I’m not mad nor am I upset with you. I’m just glad I can have you back in my life again.”

Tom smiles even bright as he pulls lightly on the hand he has a hold of to drag your body over to his. He embraces you into his warmth and your body curls into him and all you can think is there is no place you’d rather be.

“Now, why don’t we go back to your place and catch up on some sleep huh? Then you can give me tour around your new place and make up for lost time,”

He hums into your hair as you pull back from his embrace to look up, wiping your eyes with your sleeve to look at Tom more clearly.

“Yeah, I’d like that”.

#tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland drabble #dodson writing #Tom Holland x gender neutral reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction

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decayedflower · 4 years

Text

Stranger II

⋆ gif is mine

Pairing: Yang Hongwon x Reader

Genre: Underground rapper!Hongwon, Barista!Reader | angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Don’t get attached. This was his number one rule. Attachment means getting hurt. Attachment means vulnerability. You are the only person you can trust. So how could she so easily sneak past and break the walls he had worked so hard to build around his heart when all she is, is a stranger?

Warnings: cussing, some angst, hamin being a noodle

A/N: Sorry this took forever to upload, life happens ya know? Next chapter should be more exciting as the ball gets rolling. Hope you guys enjoy :)

You told yourself that no matter how in love you were with someone, you could detach yourself from your emotions enough so that—should the day come—you could live your life without them.

Looking at yourself now, you admit you’re a little ashamed. You couldn’t stop bawling your eyes out for 2 weeks straight. You guess you didn’t do as good a job ‘detaching’ as you thought you did.

You mentally slap yourself. You once lived your life without him bitch, you can do it again.

It was on a rainy Monday afternoon that you found yourself in bed—cheeto dust on your titties—marathon watching Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok-Joo. Curse Nam Joohyuk. How could a man be so goddamn perfect? He was handsome, funny, loving—and most certainly not a CHEATER.

You sigh and decide that you should probably get up and shower before Hyeri comes home and sees your miserable state. You feel bad worrying her so much. She’s always been way too kind and selfless for her own good.

You grab a fresh set of pj’s and determinedly head to the bathroom. The least you could do was stop moping and try to clear your thoughts of him. For both your sakes.

Just as you finish that thought, you catch sight of the item sitting on top of your dresser. Your favorite hoodie. His hoodie. You scowl and toss it into the trash bin. If only all men were like Nam Joohyuk. The world would be a much more peaceful place.

“Sooo, hey.”

“Yeah?”

“You know how Princess Peach is always getting her ass kidnapped?”

You laugh at the odd question. “I do recall the kidnapping of the Princess Peach ass, yes.”

“Well, it just hit me. Why doesn’t the bitch ever fight back? I mean,” Jin places a hand on his hip thoughtfully, “how is it that she manages to get kidnapped by the same dude every single time? She’s a princess. Shouldn’t she have high level security?”

“Huh. I never really thought about that.”

“How could you not! She has marshmallows for bodyguards. It’s outrageous.”

“Does it really matter?” you ask.

He sounds genuinely offended. “Of course it does. You ever see Daisy getting kidnapped?”

“Well, no but—“

“Besides, isn’t it a little ridiculous how there’s this expectation that Mario has to save her? I mean, he’s not even a prince or a knight, he’s a plumber! An italian plumber! The amount of disrespect is just astronomical considering the lengths he goes to—”

“Seokjin why are we talking about this?” You ask, baffled. You take a look at your workstation and head to the stockroom to get more large size cups. Jin trails behind you, obviously upset with your lack of interest in the conversation.

“It’s a legitimate concern, Y/N. Someone needs to pay attention to these details and it is the duty of I, the consumer, to voice the—whoa whoa whoa, since when do we have oatmeal raisin cookies?!” He screeches mid-rant, staring at a pack of cookies he holds in his hand.

You whip around to have a look, not believing your ears. “What the fuck?”

It’s true. The box of oatmeal raisin cookies sits atop the third shelf, right next to the double chocolate chip cookies.

“The boss sent an email out on Sunday,” Yoongi stands at the doorway holding a box of promotional flyers. If it were possible, you swear tumbleweed would have made its way between the three of you with the silence that follows as you and Jin stare at each other blankly.

“Which,” Yoongi drawls out, “I guess neither of you read.” he states dryly, walking away.

“Who the hell likes oatmeal raisin?” Jin asks defensively. Personally, you couldn’t agree more. Oatmeal cookies on their own were tolerable—it was the raisin part that completely ruined the entire cookie.

“They’re Satan’s spawn,” he scowls, tossing the aforementioned cookie back in the box as if it had personally insulted him. You chuckle and shake your head, walking back to your station with the box of plastic cups.

You start stocking them back up on the counter, making sure it looks neat.

“Hey Jin,” Yoongi calls out from the front of the store, “can you grab that window marker and write out the menu again? The rain washed some of it off.” He says, examining the missing bits of letters, nose scrunched in annoyance.

You could practically hear the way the older boy starts seething at Yoongi’s lack of use in honorifics. The tips of his ears flare a bright red, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“I’M SORRY, COME AGAIN?! I couldn’t hear you over the DISRESPECT.”

Seokjin takes great pride in being the oldest of the crew. He enjoys taking care of the others as if they were of his own blood, you included. He has a somewhat sarcastic sense of humor—but never overbearingly so—always exaggerating his facial expressions and reactions, which you personally find charming. Seokjin is also infamous for his constant dad jokes, the younger ones usually cringing at their cheesiness and have you bending over in laughter. (The other boys beg you to stop egging him on as it only fuels his desire to keep them going.) That being said, Jin is not someone who gets easily irritated. When it comes to certain things, he is just, well, a bit of a drama queen.

You stifle a laugh, watching as Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose, a heavy sigh leaving his mouth, very obviously regretting his choice of words. “Hyung, will you please go rewrite the menu outside?”

“Thank you! Can’t you just do that from the get go? I swear you kids are so ungrateful sometimes. I mean, you all seem to forget how I practically raised you brats—”

“Hyung, please get your ass outside or so help me I will go into that break room right now, clock out, take the longest nap of my damn life and just leave you two out here to die.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, putting his hand up, “I’m going geez. What a drama queen.” He huffs his way to the entrance, shaking his head, marker in hand. “And you guys say I’m the dramatic one.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

Yoongi stands there looking up at the ceiling with his hands on both hips as if silently asking the heavens for a tiny shred of patience.

You snicker behind your hand. You swear hearing those two bicker is your daily source of serotonin.

It’s 3 more hours into your shift when Hamin shows up at the front counter with his signature soft boy smile.

He first visited the cafe during the summer one day back when you had just been hired. The intense summer heat wave had him coming in search of some shelter from the sun and a drink to cool off. The Grind was promoting the seasonal summer drinks and naturally, as a new hire, you tried your best to advertise it. It was only your second day on the job and in your nervous state you sold him a drink that, to just your luck, wasn’t available that day. You apologized profusely afraid that he would turn out to be a Karen, but Hamin had been very sweet about it. He befriended you after that, making frequent visits to the Grind, declaring that he had found a hidden gem.

After talking to him some more you learned that Hamin had studied psychology for two years at a local college before he decided to drop out and pursue his musical career. Of course he didn’t tell you that last part up until a couple of weeks ago, so you had been under the impression that the reason he spent so many hours at the coffee shop was to study for his exams. You weren’t the type of person to pry into someone’s personal life unless they decided to tell you themselves so you never asked. Ever since Hongwon confessed to you that both he and Hamin were working towards becoming musicians, Hamin began to share more about himself to you. He figured that now that the cat was out of the bag, he could be more open with you. Prior to that day, you knew very little about Hamin’s personal life.

“Hey you! You’re back,” you beam.

“Yeah, gotta grind,” he pats his bag for emphasis. “Ha! Grind...” he snorts suddenly. “Get it? Cause we’re at...” he gestures to the shop and laughs to himself. He looks goofy standing there in his bright lavender tie dye hoodie, a big contrast to the muted colors of the walls. His tall lean form stands out like a sore thumb. An Adidas baseball cap adorns his head but it’s so washed out you can’t even tell what color it is—or is supposed to be.

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Oh come on, it was funny,” he says, leaning on the counter.

“It was funny the first couple times Jin said it when I just started working here,” You correct.

“You still laughed though,” he winks at you, making you laugh again. “Anyway,” he straightens up, “Can I get the usual, please?”

You grab a cup and start writing his name. “Just you this time?”

“Nah, my idiot friend is coming but he’s gonna run late so I’ll just order ahead of him.” He sighs, reaching into his pocket in search of his wallet. “How much is it?” He asks, fumbling through a bunch of receipts and cards.

You wave him off. “On the house.”

“No way, I can—”

“Hamin, dude, relax. You do this every time. I keep telling you, discount: friend. Total: zero.”

“You gotta let me pay every now and then. I don’t want your coworkers to think I keep coming here to leech off you…”

“Look, if you were really taking advantage of me, you wouldn’t keep disappearing on me for weeks at a time. Consider it an advance payment for when you finally let me hear a song of yours. ”

“Sorry…” He smiles sheepishly, “It’s a deal then. Thanks Y/N, you’re the best,” he grins. You flip your hair dramatically, playing along.

You make his drink and note that work is slow enough, so you head over to his table instead of calling him over.

You place his drink on the table, “so what’re you working on today?” He looks up and thanks you, taking a sip before he answers.

“A solo project. I don’t have anything now that’s worth listening to though…” He says dejectedly. Admittedly, he’s been going though somewhat of a writer's block.

“That’s okay! I didn’t mean to pressure you. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be glad to give it a listen if you’re still willing to let me. Good music also takes time, right?” You smile encouragingly.

Someone yells out your name before he’s able to respond. You turn at the sound, “Oh hey!” you exclaim when you see your roommate. You turn back to wish Hamin luck on his writing.

“Thanks for the lunch, Hyeri,” you pat your stuffed tummy in satisfaction. “I forgot to prep mine last night so I was honestly just gonna wait until I got home to eat,” you confess meekly.

She showed up during your shift planning to ask you what kind of food you were in the mood for so she could bring it to you, but Yoongi caught on and sent you on your lunch break so the two of you could eat together instead. Min Yoongi was a godsend.

“I knew it! Y/N, you have to eat your meals! Do you know how detrimental it is to your health if you’re constantly working and skipping your meals?!” you cower as she scolds you.

“I know…sorry. I just forgot...” you squeak.

“Ugh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice, I just worry about you,” she sighs, taking her seat again.

“And I’m so thankful!” you say quickly placing your hand on hers, “I’m sorry you’re always having to take care of me. I’ll work harder so that I don’t become a burden to you. I promise. I haven’t been myself these days but...just give me some time.”

She grabs your hand with both of hers, “Hey. You’re never a burden to me, Y/N. You’re like a sister to me. And I would never put your emotions against you. You need time to heal and that’s okay. Take it at your pace. I will always look after you, no matter what. Okay?”

Your heart warms at her words. You were so grateful to have her for a best friend. You engulf her in a hug and look at the time.

“I should head back. My break is just about over. Thank you for everything, Hyeri. Are you staying? I’ll make you a drink. On the house. You can study there?” you ask.

“Well, I was planning on going to my school’s library, but I guess I could use a drink…” She paused for a moment. “Is Jungkook working today?” She asks, hopeful.

Her crush on your coworker was so amusing. “Unfortunately for you, not today, sorry.” She pouts cutely.

“I’ll make you a green matcha latte?”

“Pretty please.”

You giggle, “Okay, let’s head back then.”

It was a good thing the two of you decided to eat at the chinese restaurant across the shop, so the walk isn’t long. You came here so often that the kind elderly woman who owned the restaurant had memorized your order. You couldn’t help it that their sweet and sour chicken was bomb as hell. What you would give for that recipe.

You’re internally groaning at the thought of having to go back into work when Hyeri stops in front of the entrance and lets out a low whistle.

“Whoa, hey. Which one of your coworkers drives a damn motorcycle?!” She points to a sleek, graphite motorcycle parked on the curb, two cars away from yours.

“Whoa. Uhh...no one, not that I’m aware of. Jin drives a Honda Civic and Yoongi ubers cause of car issues.” You shrug, opening the door. “Must be a customer’s.”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s just me, but that thing is screaming big dick energy.” She says, following behind you. You laugh and smack her shoulder.

“You say that but what if it’s some old bald dude that listens to metal?” You ask, leading her to a table farther in the back so she can study peacefully.

“Well err...hopefully not. I’m just saying whoever rides that thing, I wouldn’t mind riding too. Hell, I could ride all night…” she trails off. You bury your embarrassed face in your hands and try to hold in your laughter so you don’t disturb the customers.

“Oh my god. Stop talking. You’re gonna get me in trouble.” You point at a chair, “Sit here and I’ll bring your drink. Behave,” you warn playfully.

“Yes ma'am,” She winks and points shooter fingers at you. You laugh with a roll of your eyes, heading back to clock in.

“You seem...distracted.” Hamin says, amusement lacing his words.

“Huh?” Hongwon turns at the accusation with wide eyes.

He sighs. “I mean,” he says crossing his arms, “ever since you got here 15 minutes ago, it’s like you keep looking around for...something.”

“So, you’re saying for the past 15 minutes you’ve been watching me like a creep?” He turns his attention back to the music software in front of him. “I told you I don’t swing that way.” he says, clicking random notes on the half-finished project.

Hamin snorts. “Don’t change the subject. What‘s got you so distracted dude?” He asks, slurping up the remains of his drink through his straw.

“The only distraction here is the eggplant sitting in front of me...” He trails off when you enter the coffee shop with your friend in tow. You’re laughing, giving her a smack on the shoulder playfully at a joke she tells you.

Hamin stops his obnoxious slurping when he follows his friend’s gaze. “Ohhhhh!” he grins.

“What?” He snaps. “No ohhhh. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now.”

“I’m not thinking anything.” Hamin brings his hands up defensively. “Brain empty. No thoughts.” He taps the side of his head with his index finger. “Buuuttt if you were so interested you could’ve just asked, you know.”

“And what would I have asked exactly?” He asks with a tinge of annoyance.

Hamin tsks under his breath, exasperated. “Oh come on. I mean Y/N. You wanted to know if she was working. Am I right or am I right?”

“Why the hell would I wanna know that? I don’t even know her. ”

“Hongwon!” He’s caught off guard at the sound of your voice. He internally slams his own head against the table and forces a smile when you approach the table, avoiding Hamin’s gaze.

“Y/N, hey…”

“Hold on, you know each other already?” Hamin asks obnoxiously, “I only briefly mentioned you to him, but you already know his name!” Hongwon shoots daggers at the side of his head.

“Actually,” Hongwon says through gritted teeth, “we talked for a bit when I was on my way out the other day. It would have been rude of me to not introduce myself since she’s your friend.”

“He was even kind enough to walk with me on the way home even though it was raining. Thanks for that by the way, you really didn’t have to do that.” Hamin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Shit. The smile you give him is so sincere that he almost misses what you say completely.

“Really!” Hamin grins, clearly enjoying the situation. He pats his shorter friend’s head in mock endearment. “That’s so sweet of him! I mean, considering he lives in a completely opposite di—” Hongwon sends a swift kick to his shin underneath the table.

“Fuck!” Hamin rubs the spot and laughs through the gritted teeth. “I mean...that’s sweet of him considering he’s normally so shy.” He growls at Hongwon and plasters a smile when he looks back at you. You probably think they’re both lunatics.

“Right…” You laugh, unsure of what’s happening. “By the way, did you want a drink? I’ll make it for you.” You tell Hongwon.

“Oh, uh yeah I was just gonna get an americano. Let me just—” He starts to stand up and take out some cash when you stop him.

“Are you sure that’s okay?” He asks. “I don’t want to get you in trouble…”

“Don’t worry, I get free drinks and pastries since I work here.” You say.

“And she shares them with me because I’m her favorite customer. Right, Y/N?” Hamin wiggles his eyebrows at you. You laugh and pick up his empty cup.

“Is he always this much of a moron when he comes here?” Hongwon asks, scrunching his face in distaste. You laugh and ask them to wait while you bring them coffee.

Hamin waits until you’re completely out of ear shot before he begins his interrogation.

“You know, for a pair of strangers, you two seem very well acquainted.” He states, eyes narrowed.

Hongwon scoffs. “You know, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but somehow you have a really punchable face.”

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re a terrible liar.”

“Oh shut up. I didn’t lie. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think I needed to.”

“‘I don’t even know her,’” Hamin mimics.

“I don’t know her. I know her name, that’s it. Not the same thing.”

“So you like her.”

He laughs. “What are you, five? How could I like her? I just met her, idiot.”

“You walked her home.” He says pointedly.

“Part way. I only did it because it was getting late and she’s your friend.”

“Ha! Since when do you care about my friends?”

“She’s a girl, it’s different. If something happened to her because I looked the other way, it’d be on my conscience.”

“You live in completely opposite directions.”

“So what?”

“You wouldn’t even do that for me.” Hamin deadpans.

“Yeah but you’re not a cute girl.” He shrugs, crossing his arms.

“So you think she’s cute!” He slams both hands onto the table, leaning forward to peer into Hongwon’s face accusingly.

“So what? She is cute.” He shoves him away, “that doesn’t mean I like her.”

“Hmm. Okay.” Hamin smirks and leans back in his seat.

“What?” He snaps.

“Nothing,” He says with a look on his face that screams everything but nothing.

Hongwon drags his hands over his face. “You really piss me off, you know that?”

“You may have mentioned that before,” he replies, appearing unbothered.

He’s lucky you decide to come back at that moment. He swears he’d have slapped the smile off his face had he been left alone with Hamin for a minute longer.

You set down the coffee and start to walk back to the counter. “Well, I shouldn’t bother you guys too much so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait, Y/N!” Hamin shifts in his seat to face you. “Are you busy Friday?” This puts Hongwon on alert.

“Hmmm...no, I don’t think I have anything going on actually. Why what’s up?”

“You’ve been wanting to hear some of our music for a while now, right? Well,” he loops an arm around Hongwon’s shoulder, “guess who has a gig that night?”

“No way!” You squeal, covering your mouth with both hands. “Wait, but I thought you didn’t have any music that’s finished.” You frown.

“Well, it’s not that we don’t, I just kinda wanted you to hear our new stuff first. But now that I think about it, this is as good a time as any. If you’re interested, a friend of ours is hosting a party and he asked a couple of artists to play for him. It’s at the Henz Club.”

“You mean that scary looking club in Mapo-gu?”

“Scary? I mean sure, some odd looking people hang around there, but they’re all pretty chill for the most part. Right Hongwon?”

Hongwon slaps his arm away. “Right. Well, you’re welcome to come but you don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” He supplies. “We’d understand if—oof!”

“Nonsense!” Hamin butts in, shoving his elbow into Hongwon’s side. “You can bring your friend over there if you want, so you don’t have to worry about being alone.” He motions his head in the direction of Hyeri who—not so discreetly—pretends like she hasn’t been trying to make out what the three of you have been talking about for the past 10 minutes.

“Ah, but either way we won’t ditch you after the performance, I promise. How about it?”

Hongwon is still recovering from having the wind knocked out of his lungs and before he knows it, somehow you’re agreeing and Hamin is giving you the details.

“I’m so excited, I can’t wait to hear you guys.” You say cheerfully.

“You should see this guy on stage,” Hamin gestures to Hongwon, “he really puts on a show. Like a true rockstar.”

“You know, you saying that doesn’t make me feel good,” Hongwon says with a frown, sitting back in his chair defeatedly.

“Oh and don’t be surprised if you hear a lot of screaming.” He ignores him, “There’s always a lot of fangirls, especially for Hongwon. They literally come in swarms, it's crazy.”

“Oh my god. Stop. You’re so embarrassing.” He groans, looking away.

“Wow, you’re really hyping him up,” you laugh.

“Ignore him. He’s just saying whatever the hell he wants.”

“No way, it’s really the truth.” He insists, folding his arms across his chest.

“Y/N! We need you in the back!” Yoongi calls out, his head poking out from the staff only door.

“I gotta go. I guess I’ll see you guys on Friday!” You say, waving. “Coming!” You call out, following after your coworker.

Hamin smiles stupidly as you leave. “Isn’t she sweet!”

Hamin and Hongwon hang around at the café for a few more hours until they decide to grab a bite to eat. For the remainder of the time they spent working on their music, Hongwon had not uttered a single word. The most Hamin had gotten out of him was a “sure” when he suggested they get burgers before heading home.

He exits his car, watching as Hongwon removes his helmet to fix the mess it makes of his hair.

Sighing deeply, Hamin leans against the side of his car, hitting the park button on his remote. “Come on, don’t be so cold. How long are you gonna give me the silent treatment for?”

He slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans, dreading to ask but needing to know. “Are you really that pissed off because I invited her?”

Hongwon slips the hollow side of his helmet onto the handlebar and mimics Hamin, leaning against his motorcycle. “Depends,” he says, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket to light one up, “why’d you invite her?”

Hamin considers his answer carefully, shifting his weight onto the other leg. It’s obvious that Hongwon is already upset, so anything he says will probably get him angry anyway. “I was hoping maybe you guys could hit off,” he says at last, deciding to be honest.

In truth, Hongwon isn’t surprised to hear this—he actually suspected it—but it still pisses him off nonetheless. It wasn’t the first time Hamin tried setting him up with someone. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. This was something he had told him countless times and yet, he continues to pull stunts like this.

“I know you said you aren’t looking for a relationship,” Hamin continues when he proceeds to bring the cigarette to his lips without a reply, “but I just think you could at least talk to her and—“

“And then what? We fall in love, get married and ride off into the sunset?” He cuts him off abruptly.

“No, I just—“ he starts to say but stops when he can’t think of how to word it correctly.

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking Y/N went through a bad breakup, and so did I. You think maybe the two of us can find the comfort we couldn’t find with our previous relationships, in each other.” He pauses to take a drag of his cigarette.

“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but that's a load of shit. This idea you have that love can just make me forget about all my trauma, is a load of shit.” Hamin flinches at the sudden aggression in his tone. This really didn’t come across the way he intended it to.

“Guess what, I’m fucked up Hamin!” He continues, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. “I have too many damn issues and I don’t need some chick to try to figure me out or fix me. I told you already, I’m happy with the way things are. I’m not gonna play into your stupid games just because you want to play fuckin’ cupid.” Hongwon scowls, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Hamin keeps his gaze on the ground, frustrated with how easily and accurately Hongwon is able to guess what he’s thinking. He didn’t realize how terrible it all sounded out loud. He racks his brain for something—anything—to say and argue that those aren’t his intentions, but Hongwon is speaking again before he’s able to do so successfully.

“I don’t care if you invite her. Just don’t go expecting anything out of me.”

He nods his head weakly. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, bro…” He says scratching his neck, “I’m not trying to find someone to fix you...” he trails off.

“It’s cool.” He sniffles, the cold air getting to him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap like that.”

Hamin is taken aback for a second, not expecting him to apologize. He kicks the floor with his sneaker, “S’cool.”

“You still hungry?” Hamin asks, afraid that their little spat would create unnecessary tension between them.

Hongwon tosses his cigarette onto the floor to put it out with his sneaker. “Fuckin’ starving.”

You went home together with Hyeri later that afternoon once your shift was over. It was always nice to go home when the sun was setting and the air felt cooler. You loved how quiet the city got, allowing you to simply be one with your thoughts.

Unfortunately for you, today was not one of those days.

You release a sigh as you continue to pretend to not notice Hyeri’s constant fidgeting. “Hyeri, if you want to know so badly just ask already.”

She releases a giant breath as if she had been holding it this entire time. “Oh thank goodness because I felt like I was actually going to die if you didn’t say something soon,” she says grabbing your arm excitedly, like a puppy who was just called over by its owner.

“What were you doing with those two hotties I’ve never seen before?” You couldn’t tell what made her more excited―the fact that she found them so attractive or the fact that you were talking to men other than your coworkers. “Is one of them single?” she stops walking and gasps, “Are they both single?!”

An older lady walking her Chihuahua gives you a scornful look as she passes the two of you and you bring your finger to your lips to shush Hyeri. “Sorry,” she says with a giggle, “but this is huge!”

You pull her along with you to cross the short crosswalk and to the steps of your apartment complex, “It’s not a big deal. Besides, you’ve seen Hamin before.” You say, slipping your house key into the lock and opening the door.

“Okay but, this time there was another guy too. And you guys talked for like 20 minutes! On your shift!” She says, removing her shoes quickly to stand in front of you excitedly. You stop untying your shoelaces to give her a look.

“He’s a friend I made through Hamin. Who is also just my friend,” You tell her slowly as if you were explaining it to a child but you can tell by her smile that she’s not listening. You sigh and slip your work shoes off, putting them in the hallway closet. Hyeri hovers behind you, not wanting to be too pushy but also too worked up to leave you alone.

You stand up straight and turn around. “Okay fine. Hamin invited me to this party,” this already has Hyeri clasping her hands over mouth, “he and his friend are playing a gig for a friend—”

She’s squealing and jumping around before you can finish your sentence. “And they want you there as their plus one! Oh my—”

“But I think Hamin knows about the breakup and he feels bad and that’s why he invited me,” you say quickly. Hyeri stops mid spin to give you an incredulous look. “I mean, they kind of saw the whole thing since it happened at work,” you say glumly.

Hyeri wraps her arms around you when she sees how you deflate at the reminder. “Hey, don’t make such a sad face. You guys have been friends for a while now, right? I haven’t met the guy but I’m sure he invited you because he wants you there and not because he pities you.”

“Sorry. I think I’ve been trying too hard not to think about it so all the negative thoughts are really hitting me now,” you say, resting your head on her shoulder. She always had such a comforting mom warmth to her.

She releases you and gives you a comforting smile. “Do you want to go?”

“Well,” you sit on your bed exhausted, “I actually didn’t know Hamin played music until recently. I’ve really been wanting to hear some of his stuff and apparently his friend does music too..”

“Girl, there’s your answer! Who says you have to spend your days sad and alone after a breakup? If you want to go, go.” She encourages you. She had a point. Although somewhere in the back of your mind, you felt guilty. When Hamin invited you, you were super stoked and set on going but now that you were really thinking about it, you couldn’t help but think of Jaewon.

“I can tell you’re overthinking this,” Hyeri says. “Don’t. You’re a free woman! Free from a man who took advantage of you and didn’t know how to treasure you. Do whatever the fuck you want because it’s no one’s business. It’s not like you’re planning to go sleep around.” She crosses her arms across her chest, “and even if you are guess what, it’s still no one’s business.” She says vehemently.

You pick at your nails and bite your lip. “Okay.”

“Okay?!”

“Yeah, I’ll go.”

She squeals again and launches herself onto you. You land with an oof on your bed, her head barely missing yours by an arm hair. “Oh, one more thing though,” you manage to say from beneath her. “They kind of invited you too.”

Hyeri lifts herself up at this. She stares at you with wide eyes, “what do you mean?”

“I guess they saw us talking together and figured we were friends. Also, they caught you trying to eavesdrop on our conversation.” You tell her.

“Nooooooooooo,” she cries and runs to throw herself onto her bed face flat.

“It was the hiding behind an upside down textbook for me,” you snicker.

“Y/N, please I’m in the middle of dying of embarrassment.”

#Young B #yang hongwon #yang hongwon x reader #yanghongwon #Khiphop #khiphop reactions #khh #khh scenarios #kpop imagines #smtm8

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