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bicsbec · 2 days

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Stay a Little Longer pt. 5

Kolivan and Krolia were a significant change of pace in the Galactic Coalition. Kolivan was efficient and to the point. Krolia was innovative and practical. They gained the Coalition’s respect, and their proposals were approved in their majority. They were the change and balance the Galran people needed. They were almost a perfect fit.

Krolia knew how to adapt better to different groups of people, knew how to hide her discomfort when she heard something she didn’t agree with. Coran attributed that grace to her time as a mole in the Galra Empire.

Kolivan lacked that grace.

“It would be a better use of resources to focus our humanitarian aid on terraforming—”

“It would be a waste,” Kolivan cut in. “Restarting the terraforming process from scratch involves an astronomical investment on our part, whereas they already have a moon that’s begun the process.”

“Representative Kolivan,” Commander Holt said in a steady voice. “You’ve already spoken your time on the matter. Allow your colleague to finish his point. Don’t step in on his time again.”

Kolivan seemed unfazed by the reprimand, but Coran noticed the small twitch of annoyance his nose gave. That’s cute.

By the end of the meeting, a few representatives left with some ruffled feathers due to Kolivan’s interjections. Emi was chatting with Curtis as Coran put away his digital filer. Through his peripheral he noticed that Kolivan stayed behind after Krolia left.

“Will you be a while?” Coran asked Emi.

“You can go ahead without me,” Emi assured him. With that, Coran walked toward Kolivan, who appeared to be very interested in the materials of the chair he’d been sitting in.

“Something on your mind?” Coran asked.

“I realize I’m not great at politics,” Kolivan said, glancing at Coran. “Are people always this stupid or am I missing pieces of the conversation?”

Coran laughed. “Welcome to my world.”

Kolivan’s ears flattened. “Seems awful.”

“It is, but you get used to it,” Coran said starting to walk out of the room. Kolivan followed. “But you’re right about today. It was particularly awful. You should have heard Lurok’s speeches, though. You would’ve hated them.”

“I’m sure.”

“Do you want some pointers? So you can be better at politics?”

“Absolutely.”

“Zone out sometimes. It saves you some headaches.”

Coran heard a rumbling sound and realized he’d made Kolivan laugh. “I’ll be sure to do that. I’d also like some real advice, if you have any.”

“My good sir, I am full of advice,” Coran said if only a little dramatically.

“I’m all ears,” Kolivan said, making Coran snort.

“A few lessons in diplomacy would do you some good,” Coran said, leading them toward his office.

“I’ve been on diplomatic missions before,” Kolivan supplied.

“Ah, but Altean diplomacy is a dying art, and I can be sure the universe hasn’t seen it in some ten thousand deca-phoebs,” Coran said.

Kolivan shook his head with a smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Kolivan pushed the office door open for Coran. “The universe will always be at odds. Even at peace, treaties are drawn up to delay conflicts, disagreements will be had, resentments will flourish. Alteans were known as the Peacekeepers, boasting a grand number of allies and mediating intergalactic conflicts. I remember when I was younger being conflicted over joining the Altean opera or applying to be an envoy sent beyond our star system.”

“The Altean opera?” Kolivan asked, leaning against his preferred window.

“Yes! I was quite enamored with the idea. We must go some time, it’s quite the show,” Coran said brightly. He felt his cheek warm in the belated realization of inviting Kolivan out. He’d never extended an offer like that before.

Kolivan cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m sure it is.” One of his ears fidgeted for a tick and stopped. He’d become more expressive throughout the phoebs working with the Coalition, working closer with Coran. Or maybe Coran had gotten used to his lack of expression and noticed Kolivan’s other outlets for it.

Or maybe stress just makes his ears tick. Stop overthinking.

But there was something warm in the familiarity he felt with Kolivan. He liked thinking that he knew the man, that they were close. Closer than just work friends. Proper friends.

The thought made him blush.

Coran put away his digital filer, shaking out his hands as he continued, “So, when dealing with smaller conflicts—because they are conflicts—we have a code, so to speak, to follow, Grogery’s Rhetoric.”

Coran moved to the bookshelves that were home to the few books he owned. The majority of his literature was digital, physical copies of Altean writings was rare. From there, he pulled out his Pop-Pop’s copy of Grogery’s Rhetoric. It was well-worn, read carefully, and contained the annotations of generations of Smythes. He very much loved that book.

“Here,” Coran handed the book over to Kolivan. “Hopefully this will help you in dealing with the Coalition.”

Kolivan took the book into his hands carefully. Coran watched as Kolivan turned the book over in his hands. Kolivan no longer wore his Blade uniform, as it was now Keith’s turn to don the leader robes. Instead, he wore shirts with band collars and tactical pants similar to those of the Blade uniform. As odd as it was at first, Coran grew accustomed to seeing Kolivan in casual attire. Then, the full image seemed to register in his head, just how bizarre the sight was—a Galra holding a piece of classic Altean literature. He found himself smiling.

“Thank you, Coran,” Kolivan said, looking up. He returned Coran’s smile and something in Coran’s chest fluttered or stuttered, he wasn’t sure. “I’ll be sure to read it by the next meeting.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Coran said, shaking out his hands. “Happy to help.”

There was a pause between them, like Kolivan was preparing to say something.

“Coran, I’ve been thinking…” Kolivan began. “Ever since Keith took charge of the Blades, he’s been around less, but I’ve been around more. I realize he would make sure to make sure you—Hm. I thought this would be easier to phrase.”

Coran realized that he’d just witness Kolivan babble. Even that he managed to do with some level of confidence.

He restarted, more bluntly this time. “You’re cooped up in your office often, Coranic. Keith’s visits amended that. They don’t anymore. You shouldn’t be cooped up today.”

Coran crossed his arms with a smirk, fueled by the knowledge that Kolivan could also be a flustered mess. “And why shouldn’t I be, today of all days?”

“Because I’m bringing it up today,” Kolivan said simply. “I have failed to bring it up in the past and it was starting to weigh on me.”

“Weigh on you? Why?”

Kolivan’s ears inched back ever so slightly as he looked away. “I feel responsible, as I continue to keep you company, and I have neglected that aspect of doing so. You seemed content inside, but I remember Keith saying that going out was good for you.”

“So you’ve kept me company out of a sense of duty?” Coran asked, deflating a little.

“No,” Kolivan said firmly. “I quite enjoy working with you and being…familiar. I’ve never had that before. Never allowed that for myself. Not in a way that mattered.

“I’m bringing it up because I remember Keith being worried about you. Frighteningly so. And that worry’s been at the back of my mind these quintants. You don’t tend to voice what you need. I thought I would—could give you that space.”

“Oh.” It took everything in Coran’s power not to hide his face in his hands like a schoolboy. There was something in Kolivan’s concern that was embarrassing for Coran. Perhaps he was embarrassed that his slump had caused such an impression on Kolivan that it still lingered on his mind even after all these deca-phoebs. Perhaps he was simply unprepared for Kolivan’s concern… Perhaps it was merely Kolivan’s attention. “Well, erm—I wouldn’t mind—not being cooped up.”

“Good,” Kolivan nodded, tucking Grogery’s Rhetoric under his arm. “Where do you wish to go?”

“Well, there is one place I haven’t been to in ages,” Coran said with a small smile. “All we need is a shuttle to get there.”

“Lead the way.”

The fields had somehow remained just as Coran remembered them. Patches of juniberry flowers covered the ground, their sweet scent wafting towards them as the wind blew. The skies were a placid blue, clouds slowly dragging by, the outer rings a faint silhouette. This was the Altea he remembered.

He had played with Alfor in these fields when they were boys, before they were flush with flowers. He had seen Alfor play with Allura when the flowers began to bloom, a flower crown waiting for him in the Princess’ hand every time he went to fetch them. He had long stopped considering this as his field, his place of comfort. It was Allura’s. Everything about it was hers.

They were under the shade of a tree, the oldest tree in the field by Coran’s estimates. There was a comforting joy that came with being back here. He was grateful Kolivan had brought up his worry. Coran probably wouldn’t have thought of coming up here if it hadn’t been for that.

“These flowers are native to Altea, yes?” Kolivan asked.

“Yes,” Coran said, shrugging off his suit and hanging it on a branch. “They were Allura’s favorite.”

“It’s a shame she didn’t get to see this again, then,” Kolivan said. Something caught in Coran’s throat. Kolivan had no idea how right he was.

“It really is,” Coran said, voice a little strained. He rolled up his sleeves, blinking away the tears in his eyes, trying to focus on anything else.

“If you don’t mind my asking…” Kolivan said, making Coran smile. He loved that Kolivan was asking him things. “I understand that you were some kind of ill when Keith was visiting. Was it because of Allura?”

“Hm, yes,” Coran said, clearing his throat. “She was the closest—she was very much like a daughter to me. I’d like to think I was like a father to her, too.”

“I’m sure you were,” Kolivan said, placing a hand on Coran’s shoulder briefly. He leaned against the tree with a sigh, looking past the fields. “I never had children. I’m not sure if I regret that now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Coran said with a watery laugh.

Kolivan raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure I would be aware if I had sired any offspring.”

Coran blushed but still shook his head smiling. “Then what’s Keith to you?”

“Keith? He’s—”

“Yes?”

“My ward?”

“He’s a grown man,” Coran pointed out.

“Then he used to be.”

“Now he’s nothing to you?”

A gravelly sound came from Kolivan’s throat. “Not nothing.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Coran nudged him playfully.

“If I were to have anyone that came close to that, then I suppose Keith is like a son to me.”

“Look at that, he has a heart,” Coran teased. “You can afford to be sentimental nowadays, it won’t kill you.”

“It felt like it nearly did,” Kolivan said, undoing the side buttons of his collar. Coran was a little distracted by the movement of Kolivan’s fingers to realize right away that he’d made a joke.

Coran chuckled, sitting next to Kolivan’s legs, leaning his back against the tree. “Has it ever, though?”

Kolivan slid down, knees to his chest, undoing the clasps in his sleeves, and folding them towards his elbows. It was a bit too warm out to be comfortable. “It has,” he said, his hand reaching the side of his face. The side with the scar.

“Lenor?”

“Hm, a parting gift,” he nodded. “She notified my commanding officer of my plans. I fought for my life that day. Not entirely sure how I escaped with just this.” His thumb brushed over the scar. “After that, it felt like I was fighting for my life every day.”

“It’s not like that anymore,” Coran said. That much was obvious, but he wanted to reassure Kolivan of the fact.

“It really isn’t, is it?” Kolivan rested his chin on his knees, turning his head towards Coran.

They stayed like that the rest of the quintant, talking and making small jokes. Enjoying the landscape and each other’s company. The sun had begun to set when they finally decided to head back to the shuttle.

“I forgot to ask you something,” Kolivan said as he watched Coran shrug on his suit.

“Shoot.”

“You haven’t stopped wearing that shade of red in your suits since the war was over, is it an Altean victory color?”

He was right, Coran always had something pink on. It could be the piping, the lapel, the shoulders, the body, but he always wore pink. He gave Kolivan a sad smile.

“No, um… It’s our color for mourning.”

“I see,” Kolivan nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Coran said honestly, fixing his collar. “Let’s get going before it gets too dark.”

They mounted the shuttle and headed for the Castle of Lions. The sun set lower in the horizon, painting the sky in yellows and purples, the shyest hints of pink scattered through the clouds. Sunsets were always peaceful for Coran, but sunsets with Kolivan seemed to be better. Like his fur and markings were made to make the view better, like his yellow eyes were meant to reflect tranquility, like he was made to be just as mesmerizing. Coran found himself staring at Kolivan the rest of the way, too transfixed to look at anything else.

* * *

In the spirit of keeping good relations, the Earth and Altea representatives had proposed a gala. Curtis and Emi led the preparations, leaving Coran—for the first time he could remember—without much to do. Coordinating events was one of his many strong suits, the one he could show off the most. He didn’t like to give it up that easily. But he had other worries right then.

Kolivan hadn’t left his head since that one afternoon. It didn’t help that he saw him every other day. He got distracted easily, sometimes he even found himself fumbling for words. Coran was tempted to blame his age for these slipups, but the feeling was familiar. Everything about Kolivan was infuriatingly familiar.

Coran was just about finished combing his mustache when he heard a knock on his door. He peered out of his bathroom, looking over to his bedroom door.

“Who is it?”

“Kolivan.”

Drats.

“Be right there,” Coran called. He gave himself a once-over in the mirror, determined he looked perfectly put together, and walked over to answer the door.

“Hello,” he greeted Kolivan. He was wearing his formal robes again. It was unfair how handsome he looked in the dark robes, the red highlights complementing his markings nicely. “Is there a problem?”

“I didn’t want to put Krolia through the ordeal of dragging me around trying to find you again,” he said somewhat apologetically, holding up his scarf. “I didn’t pay attention when you tied it the last time.”

“Oh,” Coran smiled, stepping aside, “that shouldn’t be a problem. Come on in.”

Kolivan ducked a little and stepped inside, looking around the room. Coran was only a little self-conscious that he hadn’t made the bed that morning.

“Do you want me to show you?” Coran asked, taking the scarf from Kolivan’s hand, ignoring when their fingers brushed. He found he had to do that a lot recently. He ignored every time their hands brushed exchanging papers or reaching for things on the table during meetings. Ignored how he sometimes caught Kolivan looking at him during another’s presentation. Ignored how his eyes seemed to linger. Ignored how his own heart raced at the sight. Most of all, he ignored the little thrill he got from knowing he was of the few people that got to be that close to Kolivan.

“Yes, please,” Kolivan said, following to the bathroom. “I don’t want to burden you. I have a feeling these events will only become more frequent.”

“They probably will, yes,” Coran smiled. “Alright—” he lifted his collar and wrapped Kolivan’s scarf around it, adjusting the length, “—the long end goes over the short end, it loops under, over, and through. And then you just—” Coran pulled on the shorter end, adjusting the knot near the upper half of the longer end, creating a small, bunched crest at the base of the neck followed by a neat tie. The rest of the scarf was meant to be tucked into the suit’s vest piece.

Coran looked up at Kolivan through the bathroom mirror, finding his eyes entirely focused on him, on his hands.

“You think you got it?” Coran asked, undoing the knot. Kolivan nodded, stepping up to the mirror. Coran propped his collar and wrapped the scarf around his neck, adjusting the length for him. He watched Kolivan silently work the cloth, his finger fumbling with the loops. It was tighter than it needed to be, but it was definitely a cruder version of Coran’s knot. His thumb was still trying to fix the crest when he looked over at Coran.

“Yours looks nicer,” Kolivan said, more of an observation than a frustrated remark.

“You just have to tighten it less,” Coran said, undoing the knot so he could practice again.

“It feels flimsy,” Kolivan said. “I don’t want it to loosen.”

“Did it loosen at Shiro’s wedding?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Then it doesn’t need to be so tight. Try again,” Coran tugged on the scarf for emphasis, but noticed how Kolivan was nudged forward by the small force. Noticed the little huff that escaped him, noticed how he clenched his jaw. Heat creeped into Coran’s face as Kolivan practiced the knot again, hopefully too distracted to notice.

This time, the tie was better, the small crest not as squished as the first time.

“I need to practice it a few more times,” Kolivan said to the mirror. “I’d still rather wear your tie tonight, if that’s alright.”

“It’s not a problem,” Coran said, reaching to undo the scarf one last time.

His fingers worked the tie deftly, gingerly tucking it into Kolivan’s suit, making sure to puff it out a little. His fingers brushed Kolivan’s neck as he fixed his collar, and he noticed how Kolivan swallowed and stood a little stiffer under his touch.

Coran straightened his suit, ignoring how warm he felt and cleared his throat. “You’re all set. Looking very dapper if I might add.”

Kolivan gave him a small smirk. “Thank you, Coranic.”

Coran sighed running a hand over his brow, irritated. “You’re a nightmare.”

Kolivan barked a laugh. “Come,” Kolivan said, patting him on the back and pushing him out of the bathroom, “I heard the festivities would beginning right at dusk, just a few doboshes away.”

They arrived along with a big group of ambassadors, all from the different planets that made up the Coalition. Coran had the overwhelming urge to take charge and help with sorting out the guests. Emi seemed to be doing a fine job of it, everything very much under control.

Coran couldn’t help himself, walking over to Emi. “Are you sure you don’t need any help? Anything you might need taken care of?”

“I’ve got everything covered, Coran. Just enjoy the evening. You’ve done your part,” Emi assured him. Coran gave him a questioning look. “The Rovers. Extremely helpful, especially tonight. Consider that your contribution.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am. With all the respect I have for you, sir, I’m going to ask you to go away,” Emi said with a smile. Coran laughed.

“Alright, dear boy. You win,” Coran chuckled. And with that, he properly stepped into the ballroom.

Many grand events had taken place on that floor, each one a means to an end—maintaining diplomatic relations. The most common affairs were arranged marriages, which if memory served, had been the last event held in that room.

Coran watched Allura from the king’s side. She wasn’t of marrying age, but Melenor insisted in her attending the event. Exposure was necessary, according to the queen. Allura was in a corner, surrounded by her school friends, some of which were potential candidates for proposals. They seemed to be giggling at a group of boys that was across the room.

“Coran,” Melenor called.

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Could you be Allura’s chaperone for the night? I’m worried she might be uncomfortable. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so adamant—”

“You worry too much, my love,” Alfor said, taking her hand reassuringly. “She needs this exposure, even if it’s not where she’d prefer to be. Listen to your Queen, Coran.”

Coran bowed at his dismissal and walked over to Allura.

“Princess, I am to be your chaperone for the night. Your mother’s orders,” Coran said. Allura seemed relieved at his words.

“Coran! I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, linking her arm with his. “These events seem awful.”

“It’s how your parents met,” Coran said. Allura looked a little horrified, making him chuckle. “Love’s a strange thing, child. One day, hopefully, you’ll get to see how that can be so.”

“Hopefully not any day soon,” she said, dragging him toward her group of friends. He was supposed to simply stand near the princess to serve has her chaperone, but Allura didn’t much care for the protocols of these events. When she was younger, she would’ve run under tables, hidden under her mother’s skirts, dashed around, weaving between the guests’ legs. Now she was older, but her disregard for properness was shown in other ways.

Coran wondered when she would grow out of her rebellion towards the crown.

Coran huffed out a breath, looking around. He spotted many familiar faces, but none he actually wanted to approach. He saw Slav nervously talking Commander Holt’s ear off; Colleen seemed alarmed at whatever Slav was babbling on about, but Holt appeared only mildly interested, like he didn’t wish to encourage Slav further. Coran had half a mind to walk over to spare them of Slav’s dizzying monologues, but he didn’t feel up to enduring them himself.

He saw Shiro walk in, looking around the room with a lost expression on his face. He was wearing a suit, not so different from the one he got married in, except this one was a dark blue. Coran waved him over, Shiro relaxing at the familiar face.

“Hey, Coran,” he greeted him with a hug. “I was looking for Curtis. He left home early to help out over here, so I haven’t seen him.”

“He’ll probably be all over the place the first half varga of the event,” Coran said. “I saw Samuel Holt with his wife, but they were talking to Slav.” Coran nodded in their direction.

“I’m not sure I want to interrupt that, as much as I would love to talk with the Commander,” Shiro said, looking over to the trio. He turned to Coran again. “So, how have you been?”

“Good,” Coran nodded with a smile. “I’ve been good, Shiro.”

“That’s really good to hear,” Shiro said with a grin. “Everything’s running smoothly, then? Castle, Coalition?”

“Very much so,” Coran said. “I just wish I could see you kids more often. I already felt like an empty nester when you went your separate ways and the lions disappeared. Now Romelle’s left the castle as well. I feel nostalgic all over again.”

“Where’s she off to?”

“Happy Lives with Hunk,” Coran said brightly. “I’m really happy for her, don’t get me wrong. I just got used to a certain routine. I’m an old man, I like my routines.”

Shiro laughed. “You’re not that old Coran.”

“I’ve found four gray hairs on my head this last movement, Shiro,” Coran said gravely. “I’m afraid I’m dying.”

“I must already be dead, then,” Shiro chuckled, running a hand through his white hair.

“I knew you were the moment you needed your reading glasses to see all the time,” Coran said with a smirk.

Shiro laughed, punching his shoulder lightly. “Curtis says I look youthful with them.”

“Ha! He lies because he loves you. He’s a keeper.”

“He better be, we just finished paying off the house,” Shiro shook his head, still smiling.

“Commander Shirogane,” Emi called as he approached. “Sorry to interrupt. Representative Colt was wondering about your whereabouts. He’s still a little busy, but he wanted to see you. He’s stationed at the intergalactic shuttle bay.”

“If you’ll excuse me, Coran, my liar calls,” Shiro said, patting his shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

Coran chuckled. “See you later, dear boy.”

The other good thing about events like this was that Coran got the opportunity to catch up on local gossip. He was usually terribly out of touch with such topics, but the allowance for mingling at the gala gave him easy access. He would hear all sorts of rumors, ranging from silly misunderstandings between lovers to political scandals that he would have to investigate later.

With age, remembering details was getting more and more difficult. He didn’t want to wait until the end of the evening to report the things he’d heard. He began to look around him, trying to spot Krolia. He finally did.

She was talking with an ambassador from a smaller moon. Coran hesitated only for a tick before interrupting them.

“I hate to be rude, Ambassador,” Coran said, trying for his politest voice, “but could I speak with Representative Krolia for a dobosh?”

The ambassador smiled with a nod, turning to another conversation beside them. Coran led Krolia away from their ears.

“Is something wrong?” Krolia asked wearily.

“Not particularly, no,” Coran looked over his shoulder. “I’ve overheard some folks this evening speak quite freely about illegitimate activities.”

“Do you have their names?”

“Yes, though it’d be easier if I wrote them down.”

“Alright,” Krolia straightened. “For now, don’t worry yourself too much—write them down later. I’ll ask Keith to look into it. Breathe, Coran. Try to enjoy tonight. There’s not much we can do at the moment.”

“What can’t we do much about?” Kolivan asked, two drinks in hand. He handed one to Krolia.

“Some ‘illegitimate activities’ Coran overheard being discussed,” Krolia said.

“I suspect these types of events are riddled with many lies,” Kolivan said, taking a sip of his drink and frowning at the glass. “What is this?”

Krolia lifted the drink to her nose. “Nunvill, I think.”

As Kolivan’s words registered, Coran realized he might’ve overreacted. Ten thousand deca-phoebs ago he wouldn’t have bat an eye at such discussions. He would have notified Alfor when he could, the matters would be investigated, and they would turn out to be nothing. He couldn’t remember the last time one of those outlandish rumors had ended up being true.

“Here,” Kolivan said to Coran, bringing him back from his thoughts. “I’d rather not finish this, and you look like you need it.”

“Thank you,” Coran said taking the glass from his hand. He relished the familiar flavor of nunvill, the soft irritation it caused along his throat. A few more of those and he’d be swaying on his feet, giggling at the fuzzy feeling that would envelop him.

Kolivan looked over his shoulder, like he was weary of someone approaching.

“Everything alright?” Coran asked.

“Emi asked me to speak before we ‘properly began,’ whatever that means,” Kolivan said. “Not particularly keen on that. It’s already been a varga, when does this begin?”

“By now, most guest must’ve arrived, so I’d say soon enough.”

“I know how to encourage soldiers, not console diplomats,” Kolivan shook his head.

“You’ll be fine,” Krolia said. “This is just a like a Coalition meeting, only bigger and with a fancier dress code.”

“So, very much not like a regular meeting,” Kolivan said with a sour twist on his lips. “Keith has better graces with this type of speech.”

“You’ll do great,” Coran said taking a sip of his nunvill. “Just mention something about a road to reparations and you’ll get big cheers. It’s a rather popular topic these days.”

“Right, right,” Kolivan nodded. “Rhetoric.”

Coran smiled into his glass, feeling an odd mixture of pride and flattery swell in his chest. Kolivan had been reading Grogery’s Rhetotic. He’d kept his word. It was sweet.

“Right.”

“I think Emi is calling for you,” Krolia said, looking around Kolivan. She raised her hand and waved. “You better head over and make both of us look good.”

“I thrive under pressure, Krolia,” Kolivan said in what Coran recognized to be his joking tone. It only had the slightest lilt of mirth. “I only wish I hadn’t given Coran my drink so quickly.”

Kolivan stalked over to Emi, no sign of nervousness in his gestures. They climbed up the small stage that hosted the musicians and Emi got everyone’s attention rather quickly.

“Good evening, esteemed ambassadors, representatives and loved ones,” his voice carried over the grand room. “We are gathered tonight to celebrate the unity of the Galactic Coalition and promote further amity. This has been an effort of many deca-phoebs, but a better tomorrow is on the horizon. That wouldn’t have been possible without Daibazaal joining our efforts in reaching our goals. In the same spirit of amity that brought them to joining the Coalition, I’d like to invite Representative Kolivan to share a few words with us.”

Emi stepped aside as Kolivan took center stage. His face was stoic as he inspected the audience before him. Coran had come to recognize that this was how Kolivan looked with his guard up.

“The Galra have done the universe a great wrong. There is no denying that. It would be a gross oversight to do so. In the last deca-phoebs, Representative Krolia and myself have been working closely with the Blade of Marmora and the Galactic Coalition in the hope to reconcile with the damage done.

“The fruits of our efforts are beginning to bloom. The Blade of Marmora has fully transitioned to operate as a ‘humanitarian aid organization,’ as its new leader, Paladin Keith Kogane of Voltron, has dubbed it. The Empire’s tyranny had never been more behind us. We thank the Coalition for having us and giving us the opportunity to help undo the damage we’ve done. As Daibazaal gains your trust again, we offer our resources at your disposal to help bridge that trust. The future of the Coalition is bright, and we’re excited to be a part of it.”

He bowed and received a polite round of applause. Emi stepped up again beside Kolivan, where they faced each other.

Coran watched beside Melenor as Alfor offered Zarkon his forearm, his trust in the Galra ruler evident in the confidence of his posture. Zarkon’s eyes softened, appreciating the Altean offer, taking Alfor’s forearm in his.

Kolivan’s eyes were not soft, his expression showed his resolve to follow through with his words; Emi’s smile widened when Kolivan took his forearm, glad to see he knew what to do with the offer. The audience’s cheer was louder this time, the show of Altean diplomacy a breath of fresh air.

The event naturally resumed when Emi and Kolivan exited the stage. The musicians were already cued up for their starting piece, the melody softly lifting into the room. Coran recognized it as an interlude piece used in the Altean Opera. He smiled at the familiar tune. His smile only grew as he saw Kolivan approach.

“The next speech is yours,” he said to Krolia. “That was entirely too nerve-wracking.”

“Diplomacy has made you soft, Kolivan,” Krolia smirked. “I’m going to look for Shiro; Keith wanted me to excuse him from tonight.”

“Everything alright?”

“He said so,” Krolia shrugged. “Wanted to keep a closer eye on Lance this weekend. Apparently, he’s going through another slump.”

“I see,” Coran said. “It’s good that they look out for each other.”

“It is. Otherwise, I don’t think I would like Lance very much,” Krolia said and walked in Shiro’s direction.

Coran and Kolivan shifted to the nearest table, taking a seat as Coran gave Kolivan some pointers to improve his public speaking. Coran’s eyes tracked how Kolivan’s hands fixed the folds of his robe as he got comfortable in his chair.

“You could also engage with the crowd a little more, look at more than one fixed point,” Coran said, trying to pull his eyes way.

“I had read that finding familiar faces in the crowd helps,” Kolivan said.

“Yes, exactly.”

“I was…worried I wouldn’t find anyone else, so I focused on you,” Kolivan shrugged. Coran straightened in his seat, blushing. “You and Krolia.”

“Right,” Coran’s voice squeaked.

“Excuse me,” said a voice. Coran looked up to find General Tuhml, an ambassador for a moon in System 5-K-L. “My name is Tuhml of Hicif, First General. Could I have a moment of your time, Representative Kolivan?”

Kolivan stared at Tuhml for a tick, and Coran quickly realized he didn’t know what to do. He kicked at Kolivan’s ankle. “Of course,” Kolivan said, standing up with a small bow, like he hadn’t missed a beat. Coran smiled to himself.

The pair distanced themselves from Coran, but he could still read their body language very well. Kolivan stood rigid, nodding as he listened, face unexpressive; Tuhml spoke with a lot of hand gestures and smiles, like he was being particularly charming. Kolivan seemed to talk in short phrases, not particularly encouraging Tuhml’s conversation. He shook his head. Tuhml frowned. He said something else and Tuhml seemed pleased with that. Kolivan walked over to Coran and Tuhml wandered over to join his fellow Hicif ambassador.

“What did he want?”

“He thanked me for focusing the terraforming funding on his moon and asked if Daibazaal could help with additional resources.” Kolivan retook his seat beside Coran. “I said no, that I would have to consult Krolia and Daibazaal’s Secretary of Intergalactic Aid, Aihpos. He said he understood and thanked me again.”

“Sounds like you handled that well,” Coran said.

“I’m glad you think so.”

Coran’s heart thrummed in his chest. He’d been feeling like that all evening. The smallest things about Kolivan would get a reaction out of him… Perhaps it was seeing him in a new setting. That was probably it.

The music swelled in the air, the strings lifting the melody to a satisfying conclusion. The next piece that began was softer and carefully sculpted to be danced to, a formal and gentle thing. Curtis and Shiro were already dancing, trying to follow the other representatives in their steps. They were different from the ones Shiro had taught Coran. The dances were created for conversation, allowing the participants to share pleasantries and possibly foster friendships that continued after the dance. They would switch partners every so often, twirling and being caught by someone new.

It sparked an idea in Coran’s head.

“Come on, this will do you some good,” Coran said standing up and beckoning Kolivan. Kolivan stood without question, probably trusting Coran’s judgement regarding these events. However, Kolivan’s blind trust seemed to shift when they neared the large group of dancers.

“Coran, what are we doing?” Kolivan leaned over to ask.

“We’re going to dance,” Coran said, smiling up at Kolivan. “It’ll be good for you to get acquainted with the other ambassadors. This will help.”

“I’m not sure how.”

“Don’t be so stiff, make some friends,” Coran said, offering his hand to Kolivan. “Just follow along.”

Kolivan’s ears flattened for a tick as he took a deep breath. “Alright,” he agreed, taking Coran’s hand.

The last thing Coran expected was to see Kolivan unfold. But that’s what he did.

Coran was surprised to see how easily Kolivan picked up the pattern of the dance; sway, turn, twirl, switch. With each switch, the group would break way into two pairs; sway, turn, circle around each other, switch. By the second switch, the original partners were together again, then the turns changed direction.

Coran probably danced with four different ambassadors, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t stop looking at Kolivan. He took the dance in stride, his steps confident, his hold steady. He was graceful. Each time he returned to Coran, he’d smile like he was relieved to be back. It was a little intoxicating to realize he didn’t smile at anyone else.

Kolivan made it look easy. Like it was easy to be charming and coordinated at the same time. Like it was easy to hold close people one might fundamentally disagree with. Even easier to hold closer those you did agree with. The man that had been on guard giving his speech earlier was not the same one that was dancing. This Kolivan seemed…unbothered. Like dancing were his element.

Coran laughed when Kolivan returned to him, shaking his head as they danced the final steps. He noticed that Kolivan felt closer than he had been at the beginning, holding Coran with ease.

The music came to an end, and they bowed their thanks. Kolivan linked his arm with Coran’s and escorted them off the floor. A new set of ambassadors and representatives took their place.

“What a gentleman,” Coran said with a playful edge. Kolivan smiled as they stepped around the crowd that had gathered around the dance. He led them out to the balconies, which were empty and quieter.

“There are a few things I remember about being gentle,” Kolivan said, leaning on the railing and looking out to the lights that extended away from the castle. The night was alive and bright, the gala behind them in full swing. Coran had missed this Altea. “I could afford to learn a few more.”

“I’m sure you know plenty,” Coran said, relaxing into Kolivan’s side—tensing, realizing he hadn’t let go of Kolivan’s arm. Kolivan didn’t move, however. He just turned his head to face Coran better. “You were very impressive back there. I didn’t know you could dance.”

“I don’t,” Kolivan shrugged. “It was an easy pattern to pick up. A Blade must know how to adapt to his surroundings.”

“Krolia seems to have a better time of it,” Coran teased.

“Yes, well, some of us are more gifted than others.”

The moment stretched before them in comfortable silence; Coran still leaning too close, Kolivan looking out over the balcony. Kolivan took a breath and Coran felt how he stiffed under his touch.

“You must know these have never been my kind of events,” Kolivan said after a while. “I’d much rather be...”

“Be?”

“Elsewhere,” Kolivan looked away, his ear twitching like he were uncomfortable. Coran took a step back and Kolivan’s ears flattened. He wondered if his proximity was unwanted.

“You mean you’d rather be doing something useful?” Coran asked, trying to figure out Kolivan’s mood.

“I wouldn’t say that, I don’t think,” Kolivan glanced at Coran. “Unless utility could be subjective.”

Coran huffed a chuckle. “Subjective—what are you on about? I find you impossible to read, Kolivan. Just when I thought I had you figured, too. You give grand speeches about the future of the Coalition, you managed not to piss off a single ambassador, and you’re unbearably charming when we dance—it’s like I don’t know you. Then you switch around to your old, cynical—” Coran was watching his hands resting on the railing, watched as Kolivan’s clawed hand covered his own.

“I’m sorry,” Kolivan said, heaving a sigh. “I think I’ve forgotten how to act around you.”

Coran was still staring at their hands. Galras never engaged in casual contact, they only allowed that kind of behavior with family, if that. Or unless it was absolutely necessary.

Coran’s mind was blanking; he could only stare.

“Coranic?” There was concern in Kolivan’s voice. Heat flushed Coran’s face all at once.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Coran said with the ghost of a laugh in his voice, looking up in alarm.

“No,” Kolivan chuckled, stepping closer. “I think that's the last thing I want.”

Coran’s heart started to pick up the pace, beating firmly and incessantly. He knew this feeling. Its familiarity had been haunting him for phoebs, deca-phoebs even. And it felt as dangerous as it had the last time.

His hand settled on top of Kolivan’s, squeezing a little.

“Kolivan, this isn’t smart.”

Kolivan seemed confused at the words. Coran felt a rush of panic. Had he read too much into Kolivan’s behavior? Had he overstepped? Over spoken?

Something rumbled in Kolivan’s chest. He was laughing. “I’m sorry,” he chuckled, wearing the brightest smile. His arms wrapped around Coran easily, bringing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry. Suns and stars! Your eyes were so wide. I’m sorry I scared you.” He was still laughing.

Coran felt himself warmer at the sudden proximity and even as he began to feel the outrage, he relaxed into Kolivan.

“You’re terrible, you know? Vile and evil.”

“Hm, I’m sure,” Kolivan smiled, letting out a sigh. “This is what I’d rather have be doing.”

“Making me flustered?” Coran asked pushing him away playfully.

“That and something else,” Kolivan said, squeezing Coran a little. “The part that isn’t smart.”

“The part we probably shouldn’t say.”

“Probably not.”

“This is all too familiar for me, Kolivan. I don’t think my heart can play this game again.” Coran chanced a look at Kolivan’s eyes and found them crinkled fondly. He’d never seen them like that.

“But how could I compare to a king?” Kolivan asked, like the endearing fool he was. How couldn’t you? More than anything, Coran wanted to kiss him right then. Instead, he let his hand reach up to the side of Kolivan’s face, his thumb brushing over his scar and cheek.

“You’d be surprised.”

Kolivan leaned his head into Coran’s hand, closing his eyes and stepping away. Coran dropped his hand and offered Kolivan a brave smile, something in his chest dislodging. Kolivan glanced at the gala behind them, his ears twitching like he was annoyed. They knew this would be complicated.

“Kolivan? Have you ever seen the royal garden?” Coran asked as casually as he could.

“Only from your office window,” Kolivan said, tilting his head in confusion.

“Would you like a closer look?” Coran linked their arms and began to lead them down the balcony steps.

“Right now?” Kolivan still looked confused, looking over his shoulder toward the grand, bright room.

Coran’s grip tightened a little over Kolivan’s forearm. “Yes, right now. The gerdia’s look wonderful under the moons’ light.”

“Right, alright,” Kolivan said, placing his hand over Coran’s, finally caught up.

The royal garden had been Melenor’s. She had poured so much of her time and passion into it, Coran felt compelled to bring it back. While it wasn’t exactly how Melenor had left it, it was as faithful to her vision as Coran could manage it. It was open to the public nowadays, the Altean Hierarchy long gone. It kept its title as a reminder of its original creator.

The path to the garden was lit up by soft blue light. Even though it was a public garden, not many people frequented it. It had Melenor’s favorite flowers and aromas. Walking through it was like walking next to her—not that many knew that.

Coran missed Melenor. He had been her aid as much as he had been Alfor’s. They had kept each other company when Alfor was away as the Red Paladin, they would joke around at balls if the politics had been particularly boring, they had been friends. Very good friends.

He took a deep breath, smiling at the comforting familiarity in Melenor’s favorite things. They stopped at the entrance of the hedge maze Melenor had loved to stroll through.

“Kolivan, is it alright if I speak plainly with you?” Coran asked, his stomach thrumming nervously.

“I would rather if you did,” Kolivan said as he took in the garden, running his thumb over the back of Coran’s hand.

“Tell me what you want,” Coran said, turning his head to look at Kolivan. “I know what I want but tell me what you want. I must know if I need to push what I want aside again. I can do it; I know I can. I just need to know if I have to.”

“And what is it you want, for the sake of speaking plainly?”

“You,” Coran said more honestly than he meant to. “But I can withhold my affections for the sake of our positions.”

“Must we do that? Stifle ourselves? Aren’t you always encouraging the idea that vulnerability is something I can afford now? But I have to hold my tongue when, for once, it’s the last thing I want to do?”

“You know how messy this could get, Kolivan,” Coran said, stepping away from him. Kolivan didn’t let go of his hand, so he held it as he stepped into the maze. Kolivan followed quietly. “Our positions create conflict of interest if we were to get involved. I am willing to risk that—if that’s what you want. We could…start small? Make sure we can separate work from a potential relationship?”

“What I want… I’ve never had the opportunity to want things for myself.” Kolivan ran a hand along the side of the hedge. He took a steadying breath, stopping his tracks and pulling Coran by the hand. “Coran, I’m afraid—I’ve never had to—” He shook his head, gathering Coran in his arms. “Victory or death. That’s how I’ve functioned for the longest time. With the affairs of the heart, I am but a child. I’ve never had to moderate. It either meant nothing or everything. I’m afraid of wanting more than you can offer. Of taking more than what is mine. I’m scared I won’t be able to do this.”

Coran fixed the crest of his tie and took his face into his hands. Kolivan held him closer, like he was afraid of what would happen if he let go.

“I’m scared, too. My heart’s never had the things it desired. I’ve never allowed myself to dwell. But for the first time I’m considering it, allowing myself a little happiness,” Coran said, running a thumb over Kolivan’s furred cheek. “I want you enough to try.”

Kolivan huffed out a breath like he’d been holding it.

“I do, too,” he said, ducking his head closer to Coran. “I’ll be content with what you can give me.”

Coran smiled, a sad little thing. His heart yearned to give Kolivan everything. Not just small doses of his affections, not just what could be spared between glances. He wanted to be able to kiss him without reserve, hold him without hesitation, have him without a doubt.

But for now, this would have to be enough.

Even then, it had been too easy to break their first unspoken rule. It had been too easy for Coran to brush his thumb over Kolivan’s lower lip; it had been too easy for Kolivan to lean forward and close what little space was left between them.

Coran felt the tentativeness in Kolivan’s lips, soft and uncertain. Coran relaxed into Kolivan’s arms, kissing him back slowly, sweetly. Kolivan, a man Coran had viewed for the longest time as harsh and stoic, a man he’d once been apprehensive to trust, now held him with reverence, kissed him with ardor. Kolivan, the avid disciple of adjustment, was now an acolyte of the contours of Coran’s mouth.

He became more confident, bringing Coran flush against him, and taking a sharp breath as Coran’s fingers tangled into his fur. Coran wrapped his arms around Kolivan’s neck, deepening the kiss and feeling the scrape of Kolivan’s teeth on his bottom lip; it made his knees weak. Coran ran his tongue over Kolivan’s lip whenever he could, his mouth trying to keep up with the slow desperation building in his chest. It seemed to drive Kolivan a little crazy, soft hums rumbling from his chest.

Coran had managed to keep quiet until Kolivan began licking into his mouth. It made his stomach a warm, fluttering mess, his fingers digging into Kolivan’s collar. He made a small sound, somewhere between a hum and a moan. He hadn’t been kissed like that in a very long time.

Kolivan slowed down, pulling away softly. “Feeling alright?”

“Hm, yes,” Coran said with the brightest smile, swiping a thumb under Kolivan’s lip. “You’ve no idea.”

pt. 1 | < pt. 4 | pt. 6 >

#stay a little longer #vld fanfic #vld #voltron #coran hieronymus wimbleton smythe #kolivan #corivan vld #writing #fanfiction #ao3fic #bicsbec

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leighsartworks216 · 2 years

Text

Just A Child

Darkiplier x teenage!gn!reader (PLATONIC)

Requested by 🖌 Anon:

“Bro (/gn), Would you be willing to write something about this idea? So, in the Markiplier universe- under the assumption that Actor has been Mark in each project- he kinda drags Viewer (Ima call them V) along with him, right? So, imagine if instead V was actually just a nervous teen. (Obviously the people in each universe would just be complimenting V, not flirting) So, they're sticking with Mark since they don't really have anyone else to rely on or anything. But what if they don't really like Mark, and see Dark as a more stable... well... everything. An you know how Dark seems kinda hooked on getting V "out of Mark's grasp" basically? So, what if V takes him up on that, and Dark DOES manage to get V away from Mark, and like, takes them back to the Ego mansion or smth and kinda just helps them adjust and interact with everyone and more-or-less becomes their caretaker/guardian? If not, that's fine! Either way, have a great day/night/etc. :)”

I highkey had a hard time writing this one and I'm not, like, 100% happy with it but idk maybe it's just bc I've been working on it for a while lol

Warnings: Actor is a creep in this (mostly implied), hurt/comfort-ish?

Word Count: 1563

Masterlist

You fidgeted as you walked through the theater again. The incessant “Bonjour”s were giving you a headache at this point. And the most you’d had to eat was a sandwich. Though, it was a while ago since that happened…

“The romance?... Or the horror?”

The last time you came through here, you’d “watched” the romance. It was… something.

You pointed at the horror door.

“Good idea! I’ve actually never seen this play before. I don’t even know who made it, so…” Mark shrugged, smiling that fake, plastered-on grin as always. “Could be a fun adventure.”

“Good luck!” One of the waiters… employees… One of the men that seemed to work everywhere you went stared dead at Mark. It was the first time you saw him so serious.

Mark also seemed unsettled. “Oh, okay. Alright.” He did a little salute as he said, “Bonjour!” to the employee.

As you followed Mark to your seats (him going on a one-sided dialogue about how he was a “patron of the arts” and so on), you couldn’t help but feel… unsettled. You looked around. Nothing was out of place since the last time you came through here. And yet, a chill still ran up your spine as you sat in the front row seat, directly in front of the lone table on stage.

“You want some popcorn?” It was futile to reach for a piece, but you tried anyway, before the carton of kernels was pulled away. “OH! It’s starting!”

Was it?

When you turned back to Mark to ask him just that, you found his chair empty. The cold feeling of dread covered your shoulders like a blanket. Your gaze found itself once again fixated on the table on the stage. Creaking sounded from every corner of the room. A high pitched whine rang out, coming from within you just as much as it was coming from around you. The room began to distort. Change. Shift.

And then it was dark.

“You’re… different.”

You would have screamed, but you couldn’t feel yourself anymore. It felt like your body had been swept away, like all that was left in this void was your conscience. Instead, you stared.

The man before you looked like Mark. But he felt… wrong. Looking at him gave you a headache. His skin was pale, lacking any color at all. In fact, the only color you could see anymore were glitches of red and blue that clung to his suit and formed distorted versions of the man standing behind himself.

The man tilted his head. His neck cracked sickeningly. “So,” he mused, though his voice lacked any mirth, “he’s dragging along helpless teenagers now… How pitiful.”

Who are you? echoed around in your mind. He didn’t answer your question, if he even heard it at all.

“I know this must seem confusing, like a bad dream you can’t wake up from… But believe me when I tell you that it is all his doing.”

In a blink of an eye, you found yourself sitting at the table from the restaurant. The only difference, aside from the nothingness that surrounded you, was the man in Mark’s place. He had his fingers interlaced, hands resting on the edge of the table.

“Endless choices, all leading you back here.”

A voice whispered from the darkness. Trapped. A moment later, the man was saying the same thing.

“You’re trapped in his little game.”

Your voice came as little more than a whisper. It faded into the darkness surrounding you.

“How do you get out?” He tilted his head at you. Curious, studying. As if he didn’t expect you to ask such an odd question. “I can help you.”

In another flash, you were back outside. You weren’t sure where, but it felt less suffocating than the endlessness from before.

“Enough of the choices. Enough of this endless cycle of meaningless.” He straightened up, brushing his hair back from his face before holding out his hand. “I can get you out of here. You just need to let me i-”

“Oops.” The world was dark again. You didn’t look up from your chocolate ice cream. “Looks like you made the wrong choice.”

“I-I shot someone.”

Even after all of this fake Mark’s reassurances that it would be okay, your hands were still shaking. The heavy weight of the gun still sat in your palms. But every time you looked, it wasn’t there.

The man, entity, whatever he was, watched as you picked up your spoon. It trembled and shook in your grasp. He worried for a brief moment that you would drop it before it even reached the bowl.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked up. The blue and red that surrounded him seemed dimmer than earlier, softer. You couldn’t hear the ringing that pressed against your skull. He thought you looked like an infant - too young and small to be dragged into Mark’s mess.

“What I promised you still stands.” He reached his hand across once more. His hand was ice cold as it grabbed yours, stilling your tremors. “I can get you out of here.”

You should have been terrified. First Mark, with his uncomfortable flirting, as if this was all just some role that needed to be played. Then the endless loops. And now…

“Wh-What.” You cleared your throat, trying to steel the dread in your soul. “What’s your name?”

He tilted his head, brow furrowing. He seemed to ponder this for a moment.

“Do you have a name…?”

“I used to,” he admitted. A flash of… something in his eyes. “I suppose, for simplicity’s sake, you may call me Dark.”

You whispered his name with a mixture of awe and curiosity. “M-My name is-” The world fell away before your eyes.

You blinked up at the building before you. A… museum? Paintings hung on walls peeked out of the large glass windows. You could just barely see a sculpture inside. You looked down at your clothes and found you were wearing all black. A grapple gun rested on your hip.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Turning on a dime, you were face to face once again with Mark. His lips curled into a cheshire grin. There was too much knowing in his eyes.

“You’re not backing out now, are ya?”

Your phone buzzed. You pulled it from your pocket with trembling fingers.

Don’t you feel like you’re running in circles?

You didn’t recognize any of the portraits on the walls. All of them had their eyes crossed out. And it felt like they were… whispering to you. The only one that looked even remotely familiar sat at the end of the hallway. It looked like-

“Same snake, different skin.”

You wheeled around, heart racing in your chest. Dark stood there, hands behind his back, in a white suit this time. He looked just as malcontented with your presence in this “game” as he had the last time you saw him.

“Always spinning his yarns, his webs, his lies.” He sighed, tilting his head. He seemed almost like a disappointed parent, scolding you for staying out too late. “I always thought that you were trapped in his games. Perpetually plunging down the rabbit holes of his stories. Helpless. Lost.”

You looked over your shoulder at the last portrait. The paint had flaked away and fallen off, but you remember the smiling face that was there before. The disgusting, plastered-on smile that was always there. “Was that Mark?”

The entity hummed. In a flash of red and blue, he was standing in front of the painting, scowling at the gilded frame. “He is behind all of this. Pulling the strings like a puppeteer controlling a marionette.” His gaze flicked over his shoulder. You swallowed at the implication.

“Last time…” Your brow furrowed. How long ago had that been? How long ago was it that you sat at the ice cream parlor, being comforted after shooting Mark? You swallowed, and pushed back the thought. Dark’s face softened, as if he knew what had crossed your mind. “Last time you said you could get me out of here.”

He turned his body to face you. Haloed by the light above the picture, he nodded. “I can.”

Unbidden, tears welled in your eyes. “Please.” You bit your lip, fighting the shake in your voice. “Please get me out of here.”

He stepped forward, stopping a few feet in front of you. His face was somber, gentle. He seemed to look you over for a minute. Perhaps he was seeing what you’d gone through - the prison, the forest, the pirate ship, the cave. Every now and again, an image of himself would turn to the side and scream.

You swallowed hard. Would he turn you away now? He so openly gave you his hand before, offered a way out. Would he abandon you in this loop now? A warm tear fell down your cheek.

“Please.”

Cold arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a broad chest. A hand carefully cupped the back of your head. “I will get you out.” He held you as you clung to him and cried into his suit. He could only hope they were tears of joy and relief, and not for the choices you’d been forced to make. You were just a child, after all. And he would make sure Mark knew, too, when his time came.

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Into The Unknown, Part 28

First

Tim laid on the couch, a heating pad pressed to the muscle he had pulled at work. The other hand was absently scrolling through the internet in search of an idea for what to get Marinette for Hanukkah. Damian, at least, was easy – a stuffed animal or some candy would be enough. Marinette, however, was harder to shop for; she didn’t trust his sense of style so clothes or jewelry were out, they lived together so it felt weirdly self-serving to get her any pieces of art or furniture, and while she liked things such as cooking and doing her makeup it felt sexist to buy those for her.

So, he scrolled on his laptop endlessly. The old computer’s fan whirred angrily at him, as if telling him to hurry up and think of something already, but alas.

The door opened as Marinette got home from work and he snapped the laptop closed.

Marinette glanced over, giving him a raised eyebrow as she set her coat on the coatrack before kneeling to help Damian with his own. “Whatcha doing?” She asked.

“Uh…” He looked down at his laptop, then back at her. He resigned himself, resting his head in his hands. “Porn.”

She made a sound that was somewhere between choking and laughing.

Marinette smiled as Damian hugged her leg, her hand gently ruffling the little curls that poked out from under his elf hat.

The baby huffed a little and pulled her hand away, then started messing with her fingers.

Tim rested his chin on her shoulder lazily as they waited in line. “I can’t believe there’s so many people here to see an old guy in a red suit.”

“A magical old guy in a red suit,” Marinette corrected him.

He rolled his eyes. “Please. I can do magic.”

She gave him an unimpressed look. Largely because she had given him that magic in the first place.

He stepped out in front of the two of them, his camera swinging happily (or, rather, merrily because they were in line for a photoshoot with ‘Santa’) as he went, and did a dumb flourish with his hands, grinning widely. “Alright, I need a volunteer.”

She gave a world-weary sigh before raising the hand that Damian wasn’t currently trying to break by pulling the fingers as far back as they could go.

“A… younger volunteer.”

“Ah,” she said, looking down at the kid who could not be any less interested.

“With… more elf costumes…”

Damian didn’t even blink.

“And is two-ish…”

The kid finally looked up, feeling both of his pseudo-parent’s gaze on him. That being said, he didn’t seem all that interested in volunteering. Probably because he didn’t even know what volunteering was.

“And is named Damian…?”

Damian blinked a few times before lighting up, pointing at himself. “That’s me!”

Tim snickered quietly before nodding. He knelt before the kid. “Ready to see some magic?”

He nodded eagerly.

Tim smiled widely and reached forward. Marinette watched with interest…

Until he pulled back, thumb tucked between his pointer and middle finger, and said “I’ve got your nose!”

Marinette’s nose got attention as well, as she pinched the bridge of it and closed her eyes. She took a couple of deep breaths. Honestly, she didn’t know what she had been expecting. Really, this one was on her.

Damian tugged on her hand and she looked down at his wide eyes.

“My nose!”

Marinette was rapidly getting a headache. But, still, with Tim’s pleading expression in the corner of her vision, she – reluctantly – gave a theatrical gasp. “It’s gone!”

At the confirmation, Damian gasped as well, bringing a hand up to cover his nose. The other hand started trying to grab at Tim’s hand. The man only seemed amused, holding it just out of reach.

Damian changed tactics, turning back to Marinette and saying “Help!”

She raised her eyebrows but, upon getting puppy-dog eyes, sighed and looked over at Tim. She held a hand out.

Tim stuck his tongue at her and, in a shocking turn of events, started holding his hand over her head. She stood on the tips of her toes, scowling as her fingers just barely brushed his wrist. She glanced around at the other people that were watching them with faint amusement. Her face reddened in a mix of embarrassment and annoyance and she rested her hands on her hips.

“I’m not jumping for that,” she said.

“I know,” he said, smirking.

She realized he was teasing her.

“Really, Timothy?”

He blinked, genuinely caught off-guard. “Are you really ‘Timothy’-zone-ing me?”

“Yeah. Now hand over the… hand…”

He scoffed a little. “Traitor,” he complained, pushing himself up onto the tips of his toes.

“I will climb you.”

“No, you won’t –.”

She locked her hands around his forearm and pulled with all of her weight.

Unfortunately, he was very fit and, after digging his heels in to make sure they didn’t fall, his arm didn’t waver. She was now just kind of hanging from him.

She shrugged mentally – she had more or less been expecting that – and wrapped her legs around him and started to climb, careful not to touch his camera.

Tim made a strangled sound in the back of his throat but Marinette could not care less because she managed to reach his hand and lock both of her hands around his, prying it open with the skills she learned from various akumas –.

… Marinette had… forgotten what she had been trying to get.

Her head tipped forward to rest against Tim’s shoulder, shaking with silent laughter. God, she was stupid.

His arms dropped and wrapped around her, holding her in place so they could scootch up in line (she didn’t know if she found this sweet or rude, because it was a nice thought but she could do that herself, thanks). The skin she could see poking out from under his thick black sweater was tinged red.

She took a moment to compose herself before detaching herself from him.

She refused to look at Tim as she knelt in front of Damian and held up her hand, her thumb tucked between her fingers.

“Got it back. Ready for the reattachment surgery?”

Damian looked mildly confused but he nodded and made grabby hands.

She tapped his nose, saying “Boop!”, and then pulled back.

He brought his hands up to his face and lit up when he found his nose – God knows how he didn’t find it the time before – and then surged forward to wrap his arms around her neck in a hug.

She smiled, picking him up and turning to Tim. He was still faintly red, but had the sense to hide his face behind his hand.

“See, this is why I’m the favorite,” she said, sending him a cheeky grin as she hugged the baby closer to her.

“Hey –!”

(And, when Damian sat on Santa’s lap, Tim barely had enough time to get exactly one good photo before Damian started bawling. Marinette cooed quietly, remembering the photo album back at her house of her, her dad, and both of her grandparents crying on Santa’s lap. He really was a Dupain-Cheng.)

Tim smiled as he sat on the park bench, one leg crossed over the other as he scrolled through his camera roll.

Marinette was trying to teach Damian how to make snow angels. Unfortunately, instead of doing horizontal jumping-jacks as is proper, Damian was lifting his arms from the ground, waving them vaguely, and then dropping them. Nothing Marinette was doing was working. She looked somewhere between laughing and crying.

She gave up, falling back in the snow with a huff.

Damian gasped and got up, waddling over to her in his many layers. He looked down at her for a couple of seconds, and Tim almost begins to think that he’s worried, but then he dives onto her stomach. Marinette yelps a curse. Damian cackles at her pain, as any good kid would.

She huffs and picks up Damian.

He wriggles a little in her grip and then lights up, mimicking Superman with his hands out in front of his face.

Marinette’s slight annoyance fades as she giggles quietly, carefully pushing herself to her feet and starting to ‘fly’ the kid around the park.

Tim smiles, picking his camera up to take a picture of the two of them.

And then he reaches down, grabbing some snow. It’s cold and wet and a little crunchy against his bare hands (it’s hard to work a camera in gloves). He can’t remember the last time he really paid attention to snow outside of Mr. Freeze. The thought of it is weird.

He shakes his head as if to clear it. He takes his time balling the snow in his hands, and then throws it.

It hits its target. Marinette almost drops Damian in surprise as snow hits the back of her puffy jacket. She turns to glare at him and, after her mouth moves a bit, Damian joins her in her glaring.

He snickers, sticking his tongue out at her. He’s sure she’ll get her revenge somehow, but for now he just snaps a picture of his family.

His cheeks, already tinged pink with the cold, heat up at the thought.

He tries to shove the redness down with a hand as Marinette approaches him. Apparently, she was going to be overt about her revenge. He brings his hands up to cover his face, preparing for her to kick snow at him, only to get a baby shoved into them.

Tim blinks up at Damian, who blinks right back at him.

“Ya hla.”

“Ya hla,” he parrots back at him, smiling a little.

He takes Damian, glancing back at Marinette.

She stretched just slightly, reaching a hand into her coat and cricking her neck. “Need a minute,” she said. “Need to check my emails.”

He nodded slowly. Marinette had been checking her emails more often recently. But he was still suspicious.

Still, he smiled and leaned forward to kiss Damian’s nose. “How about I teach you to make a snowman?”

The kid nodded eagerly and he chuckled, handing his camera to Marinette for safe-keeping and plopping down. He started rolling snow between quickly-numbing fingers. Damian copied the motions carefully, eyes narrowed with way too much concentration for what they were doing.

He heard a few camera clicks behind him and rolled his eyes with a fond smile. She was going to use up his entire camera roll… but, he supposed, that was fine.

Tim held up a tiny snowman that he had made, hardly the size of his head. Damian held up a similar, if slightly smaller and more lopsided, one with a bright smile.

“What’re you going to name yours?”

“Snowy!” Said Damian confidently.

Tim fought the urge to bring his free hand to his heart, because aw he loved kids. Especially this one.

“And yours, Tim?” Marinette asked, still taking pictures behind him.

“Uh…” He looked down at the snowman in his hand. “Vicky.”

“Like the one prick babysitter from Fairly Odd Parents?”

He snorted quietly. “I – yes. Obviously. What else could I be naming it after?”

She laughed a little.

He started to laugh with her, but then something cold slid down his back and suddenly he was cursing and wriggling as snow crept beneath his shirt.

Tim glared at Marinette and Damian, who were giggling at his misfortune.

He flipped her off, trying not to smile too hard because that would ruin the ‘angry’ facade he was putting up.

~~~~~

@unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff @toodaloo-kangaroo @queenz-z @imarivers8 @jeminiikrystal @adrestar @twsssmlmaa @literaryhiraeth

#making this post on twos day #and all i can think about is #like the entirety of gotham is essentially taking shots to prepare themselves for the apocalypse #and two face is just having a DAY #he goes out and gets himself a new suit (it's the same as all his other suits but that's not important)#has a spa day #good for him honestly #anyways #maribat #into the unknown #shutterbug #marinette dupain cheng #tim drake #red robin #ladybug #timmari #timinette

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softscummymammon · 3 years

Text

€Unexpected Acquaintance€

Assisted by:: @jinjinjinjin

❃.✮:▹»»——⍟——««◃:✮.❃

Sukuna just wanted this day to end. He was already in a bad mood from the storm last night, where he got little of his much needed sleep, and his mood had only gotten worse when he was faced with a bunch of "nature friendly" bastards protesting near the docks where his boat was tied down.

Now, he just wanted to get his daily load of fish for the market, and have a nap without dealing with any other goody two shoe hypocrites. He could already feel the headache building up behind his eyes.

Though the gentle rocking of the boat over the surface of the water did ease him slightly. People besides other fishermen were always so confused when he actually said something about himself and it happened to his be career in fishing. They were always so astounded when he said he could stay on a boat for a whole day. Weaklings, all of them.

Rubbing at his sore eyes, Sukuna glared at the surface of the horizon and took a sip of the alcohol in his canteen. Tucking the tin back into his wader's pocket, he patted the pocket for safe keeping.

Walking to the front of the boat, he checked his net markers he left a few days ago. Sukuna gasped when he saw his marker bobbing up and down frantically. Getting his equipment ready, he tugged on some gloves and grabbed at the net right under the marker.

Taking a breath, Sukuna started tugged on the net. Grabbing every piece of net coming from the water, Sukuna huffs as he pulls the net further and further from the water. The sound of splashing water reached his ears and he smirked in victory.

Putting all the access netting into one hand, Sukuna quickly reaches behind him for the mechanical hook. The machinery on his boat was built and bought by him only, so only he knew how it worked. By reaching for the net first, he can easily tie the access onto the hook and pull up the rest of it out of the water.

Doing exactly what was needed, he tied the net to the hook and grabbed onto the leaver and started cranking the leaver clockwise. The machinery raised the net out of the water better than he ever could. The load he hauled onto his deck made him smile and rub his hands together gleefully.

" This shipment is definitely worth a pretty penny. Now, all I gotta do it sort you out, fish sticks. "

*Slap* "Who you callin' fish sticks, blubber mouth?! "

Sukuna froze. Looking up, he raised his hand to his face and wiped away some water the fish that had been thrown at him left on his cheek. Peering down at the fish now flopping on his deck, he gave the thing a death glare; as if that would give him any answers. He must really be going crazy-

"Up here, blubber-for-brains. "

His eyes snapped up towards the voice. But the air in his lungs escaped as if they were punched out of him. A human(?)'s upper torso was visible at the top of the net. It was leaning against the hook of the machinery and was throwing and catching a fish in its hand.

Sukuna raised a brow, " What the fuck? "

The thing raised one of its brows back, " Nice use of language, Oh Smart One. I thought you humans were supposed to be intelligent. Though, every one of your kind I've encountered uses fowl language, so smarts must just be a myth. "

Sukuna growled at the things snarky commentary, " Oh yeah? And what kind of intelligent creature like you gets stuck in a fishing net, huh? So much for being smart. "

The thing snarled, showing off rust colored stained teeth dyed by no doubt blood as sharp as many of Sukuna's own fileting knives. It held tightly onto the fish in its hand, " Watch your mouth, human, I still got a whole lotta of ammo here, and your face is lookin' like a big ol' target from where I'm sittin'. "

Sukuna rose an unimpressed eyebrow and pulled out a harpoon gun he kept in the captain's quarters, " Mine hurts worse. "

The thing flinched back and hissed at the gun, but slowly set down the poor he probably squeezed to death in his panic. The thing made a whiny sound in the back of its throat, " I didn't choose to get stuck here. I was getting chased by some shark mers. Those nasty ones only know the smell of blood and the next potential meal. I'd choose to be anywhere else right now, trust me. "

Sukuna huffed, " Yeah, sure. " Putting away the gun, Sukuna sighed and looked back up to the sulking thing. Looking closer, he was the slightest shine of scales decorating the cheeks, neck, and forearms of the thing. Its eyes were steely and sunken in, as if it's seen things beyond it's life time.

Sukuna chuckled upon realization, " You're a mermaid, aren't you? "

The mer scoffed, " Merman, thank. But 'mer' is just fine. I still don't get why ya humans always gotta gender code things. Damn, just call us what we are? "

Sukuna chuckled again, " What? Nuisances? "

The mer hissed again, " We wouldn't be if ya humans knew to keep to yerselves. Ain't this section of the coast off limits to fishers like yerself? "

Sukuna shrugged, not giving an answer. The mer scoffed and crossed it's arms over it's chest. Sukuna looked at it up and down, taking in everything he could. He hummed delightfully.

The mer must have caught on, " What'cha lookin at me fer? Think I'm some sorta snack for yer to eat? "

Sukuna shook his head no, " Nah, I was just rememberin how much one of your kind goes to sell on the blackmarket. You gotta be worth something. No rich bastard would give up the opportunity to call a thing like you pet. "

The mer's eyes went thin, but already creamy skin paled considerably, " You wouldn't... "

Sukuna rose a brow, " Oh, and why wouldn't I? I could definitely use the money. "

The thing stayed quiet, before it soon started to shake. Sukuna was about to sneer and comment about it being weak, but paused when a face formed from agony and rage shot up to glare at him. Sukuna had to keep himself from tensing and tried to look as calm as he could be.

The mer growled, " That's all that ya humans are. Selfish and greedy monsters only willing to do something if you get money in return. Do you know how many of our kind is sacrificed, hunted, and killed just so the others can live? Just so you humans can play god and reap what we mer's sew. "

Sukuna gulped, remembering the auction show he was emailed an invite to since he contributed a large amount of fish to the CEO of the company. It was a disgusting show of wealth. How millionaires and billionaires fought over a small little thing that held a resemblance to the one right in front of him.

The mer wasn't done, but tears of grief started to roll down it's eyes, " How many of our guppies, our children, are pulled from our arms to be sold like live stock?! You are no better! "

Sukuna had enough of this tantrum, " Do not bundle me with those people! I'd never harm a child, even if I am considered a monster by other people. I will not allow it to be done by a fish like you! "

The mer shrunk back, breathing irregular and struggling, like a faint wheeze. It swallowed roughly and looked away. Sukuna rumbled, now over flowing with guilt he felt he should not harbor. Looking back up, he became slightly alarmed at the shallow and wheezy breaths the mer was taking.

Mer's need water, his mind supplied. Sukuna growled, and hackles raising when he caught the mer flinching again. Walking away from the net, he went down below deck on got out a giant glass tank he kept in case he needed to keep a fish alive for more profit.

Taking it up the stairs and on to the deck, he set it down on some secure boxes and grabbed a bucket to start filling it with water. He had to make haste though, or the mer would die from drownin? Suffocation? And all of this work would be for waste.

Once the tank was full and covered from the beating ray of the sun, Sukuna walked over to the leaver controlling the hook and rotated it counter clockwise. He watched as the machine lowered the net onto the deck and he let go of the leaver. Once the machine stopped, he stepped up to the net and untied it.

Being this up close and personal to the mer, he watched as the sun made the scales look iridescent. Slipping his arms underneath the torso of the fish being, he pulled it out of the other fish and dragged it towards the tank. The mer roused slightly, trying to fruitlessly push Sukuna away. The bigger man scoffed and dropped the mer into the tank.

The reaction was instant, the mer took a deep breath through the large gills covering it's side and it slumped against the rim of the glass tank. Sukuna watched, looking at the mer's tail that could he classified as art in itself. It was beautiful, though he would never admit it. The thin tarp Sukuna draped over some boxes didn't stop the light from the sun bouncing off the glittering scales.

Sukuna's gaze went back up to the mer's face, startling to see the mer was also looking at him. It's hair fell in it's face, blocking out most of it. It puffed, blowing some of the strands out of it's eyes to get a better look.

Sukuna hated the way his chest constricted at the show. The mer raised a webbed hand, and Sukuna slowly took it and shook it. He made a face when he pulled it back and fake gagged at the slimy feeling left on his skin. The thing laughed at his disgust and shook it's head, getting water everywhere.

It smirked, " The name's _____ _____. What's yours, blubber man? "

Sukuna sneered at the nickname, " That's not my name. It'd Sukuna Ryoumen, nothing else. "

The mer smirked, " Well now I gotta call you that every time I address ya. "

Sukuna growled, " Don't you dare. " The glint in the fish's eyes didn't quell any of the building dread that sat in the bottom of his stomach. He really debated on if he should sell the fish or not.

❃.✮:▹»»——⍟——««◃:✮.❃

#anime headcanons #jjk x male reader #ryōmen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #x male reader #male character #mermaid male reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x male reader #tw blood #tw gore #tw fishing #tw harmful endangerment #alternate universe

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whatsupspaceman · 4 years

Text

What your avatar-sona says about you!!:

The Buried

- you bought a weighted blanket out of curiosity and now you can’t sleep without it

- made potions out random shit in the backyard as a kid

- gotta wear layers!!!

- have eaten an assortment of things you found outside on dares

- as nice as chilling in a soft pile of dirt sounds you still hate elevators and being trapped

The Corruption

- don’t you just want to be fully consumed by what loves you?

- obviously gay for jane prentiss

- thank god you don’t have trypophobia amirite

- touch starved

- traps spiders under a cup and takes them outside

The Dark

- hate the summer, heat, humidity, and wearing shorts

- you’re probably trans

- “hey what if we did actually destroy the sun thou-“

- running through the dark halls after you turn off the light in the basement is kinda exhilarating tbh

- stays up to ungodly hours bc the night is just so much more peaceful

The Desolation

- you’re a lesbian

- you stuck sticks in campfires just to wave them around and see the sparks

- probably got yelled at by an authority figure for literally playing with fire

- you’ve burned yourself cooking so many times because you get cocky and for some reason never wear oven mitts?? you always use random jackets or towels to take shit out of the oven Why.

The End

- grim reaper aesthetic and/or classic goth

- just wants some peace and quiet

- halloween is your favorite holiday

- takes naps whenever anything goes remotely wrong

- introverted, quiet, want to live in a witches cabin in a nice secluded wooden

The Eye

- we get it you’re gay

- you got bullied in middle school and would escape to the library to read books at a voracious pace you haven’t been able to replicate since

- you know so many obscure facts but you have the insecurity that it’s all surface level knowledge and you don’t actually know shit

- gifted child syndrome

The Flesh

- are you ok....

- tired of having a physical form but also put so much effort into your appearance

- idk the flesh kinda grosses me out you’re on your own for this one

The Hunt

- you like archery but you’ve probably only done it like twice

- every once in a while you get the panicked urge to run away and try to make it on your own in the woods bc wouldn’t that be simpler?

- weird kid. definitely pretended you were an animal 6/7 days of the week.

- also probably growled at people you didn’t like. you Probably grew out of this

- camp counselor aesthetic

The Lonely

- :/

- you’re also gay

- please take care of yourself

- you’ve resigned yourself to the fact that you might never be loved and known truly, but you will, once you find the right people. don’t give up!

- *mitski’s nobody on repeat*

- *also write me letters by the hot freaks on repeat*

- you are a tender soul and hopeless romantic but also like. haha is love even real

- once again don’t give up!!!

The Slaughter

- you’re one of those artists that draws either really aesthetic or really cutesy type gore

- you like knives. you own and carry around a switchblade not because you think you might actually Need the protection, but because it makes you feel cooler. also it makes you feel like a threat.

- you like vampires, and fangs, and anime

The Spiral

- flamboyant and trans

- you probably have adhd

- your main motivation is: you know what what if Other people felt like they were on the verge of going crazy for once? huh??

- “i saw this shirt at a store and the colors literally gave me a headache so of course i bought it”

-another really weird kid. you definitely make art and sometimes it’s the only way you can express what’s goin on inside your head

The Stranger

- you don’t know how to describe yourself that’s why you take so many personality quizzes

- *stares in the mirror* who is that other dog. i don’t like them.

- “haha i don’t have a personality i’m just an amalgamation of everything i’ve ever liked and stolen it”

- hush you Do have a personality. clown

The Vast

- you were obsessed with space and astronauts as a kid, obviously.

- you had your first existential crisis about space and the meaning of life and how small we are at a very young age and it changed how you think about the world

- just a little tastey hint of nihilism

- skydiving!! sky!! diving!! and rollercoasters

- you get flying dreams n wish you were a bird

The Web

- pretty likely to believe in fate

- less likely to believe in free will

- every time you get into a piece of media you have a wall of red strings and theories about plot and predictions

- over analyze everything

- also you have anxiety

- you can’t write Anything until you plan out every single plot point and character arc and scene and shot. i admire your resilience and commitment.

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agilneanrose · 2 years

Photo

Southwatch

Westfall

Rosemarri propped her elbow on the arm of the couch, the letter held aloft so she could read it above the messy curls of her youngest daughter. Harmony stretched across the noblewoman’s body, legs dangling over hips and her body cushioned by her mother’s nightgown. Reclined, there had been a book about frogs at play but as soon as the youngest Sunshield fell asleep the letter was given proper attention.

Haven sat on the floor, a savage game of chess taking place with her grandfather seated across a floor table and Hope? She had decided to create a picture book for her father.

“He was beautiful at the House of Nobles meeting, was he not?” Rose spoke out loud, her tone thoughtful as she read the short letter twice before letting it settle onto the top of her head. A talasite gaze dipping to where the two played.

“Who?” Araian didn’t look up, he couldn’t, if he did that would give Haven all rights to cheat. And she would do it - the eldest of the Sunshield children was savage in the art of war.

“Lord Shandaumath… and his lady, they were both beautiful.” Rose tapped her finger against the letter. “He wrote back to me, I had worried that his darkness had gobbled him up but it seems he survives. He writes akin to a son checking in with his mother - all is well, do not worry but then his letter switches to you.”

“Oh?” Araian made the mistake of looking away from the chessboard and Haven’s punishment was immediate. A swift hand stole one of his rooks.

“Haven, that is cheating.” Araian scolded gently.

“You shouldn’t look away from your men, Grandpa. Something could happen to them - that wasn’t very attentive. I will give him back this time but I took his left hand.”

“Haven!”

“Sorry momma..” There was not a contrite bit to the girl’s expression or tone. She simply set the piece back down onto the board.

“She isn’t sorry, momma.” Hope tattled, adding to her storyboard the image of Haven cheating her grandfather so that her father knew well and true of Haven’s cheating ways.

“I know, baby.” Rose scowled at her daughter before she read the part of the letter for him.

In the past weeks, I’ve noticed your father’s absence in political affairs. Though I caught the pair of you present at the elections, I recognize that it seems he has avoided taking up any position within the ministries. I trust this is only due to the headache that comes with it and not from any more serious issue that keeps him away.

Though I find the current state of political affairs within the kingdom to be foul, I suppose there’s no way to avoid it after such a war. Let us hope these next few months are dull as we find our heads again.

Send your father my regards.

Once done she returned the letter to rest on the top of her head, her elbow maintaining its perch and Harmony undisturbed. “Throughout the civil war, I’ve written to him, curious as to why someone in his position had joined with the traitors and his words echoed what was in my heart in regard to this whole bit. I think your voice was a voice of reason for a lot of people in those chambers, and a threat to a lot more. - perhaps he worries you are being blackmailed into silence as others have been?”

Haven’s talasite stare moved to her mother as Araian began to speak, listening quietly. Anger sparked upon that young face. Blackmail? Her grandfather?

Araian’s hand was slow as he moved his pieces on the board. “Eyes on the board, Haven.”

“Grandpa, are you being blackmailed?”

“No one has that power..” He made the mistake of glancing up to where Rosemarri reclined on the couch with the youngest of his grandchildren sprawled on her lap and chest. “I have many things to say about the house, none of them nice.”

“Checkmate.” Haven spoke firmly.

“Haven, that bishop isn’t even on the board.” Araian gave his grandaughter a scowl.

“He isn’t a bishop, I have no use for them. He is a rogue and if you do not give over your king, your queen dies. I am sorry, papa. You can’t be fair when you are fighting a war.”

Araian leaned back slightly, his stare on the child’s face. It was serious and she stared right back, waiting.

“Haven Sunshield..” Rose sat up, shifting Harmony to rest on the couch instead. “ - perhaps one day you will be on the battlefield and perhaps one day you will command your shadows as your daddy does - but today you play a game with your grandfather. Put your bishop back and attempt to play fair.”

“Momma! This game doesn’t have rogues.” In the end, Haven was just a child and she turned her upset stare to her mother. “This isn’t a real strategic game if it doesn’t have rogues. It has stupid bishops - who takes bishops to battle!?”

“No one smart, my dear, no one smart. I do believe it is bedtime. Tomorrow we play fair.”

“That was fair.” She protested, her attention back on him.

Araian leaned forward, his elbows finding the surface of the table. “Perhaps in this battle, your rogues are unavailable to you. What you do have is a few bishops that have given you their service and you must command them so that they live and you win. Tomorrow, we play fair. Tonight, your rogues win.”

Haven stared at him for a moment longer before she nodded. “Alright, goodnight papa..” She skirted the table, a loud kiss given to his cheek before she was off, Hope wandering in her wake.

Once the two were gone there was a moment of silence before Rose spoke again. “I have enjoyed having a pen pal but perhaps this time it is you that should write back. His worries are for you... “ @theoldlord - Tag you are it. @shandaumath - mention, sorta a reply? but not really. A pre-reply? lol

#pen pals

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alby-rei · 3 years

Text

Paint My World in Shades of You (Vincent x MC)

a/n: Happy birthday Vincent <3

[Characters]: MC, Vincent, Theo

[Genre]: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

[Warning]: None

{Paint my World in Shades of You}

I was sitting in Vincent’s room on his couch while he painted. His eyes were trained on the beautiful arrangement of flowers that rested against the window.

My eyes were trained on him; I was obsessed with his side profile. I loved the way his eyes shone with concentration, and his jaw relaxed and tensed as he worked. Suddenly, his serious expression lit up in laughter.

“When you look at me like that, I can’t help but lose focus.”

“Ah—I’m so sorry! I just—” My face heated up considerably, I must be a roasted tomato by now, “I really like watching you paint. It fascinates me so much how you create such wonderful paintings, and I was… taking mental notes of your technique,” and your face, and your arms, and your fingers, and-

“Have you painted, too, in your time?”

“Mmhm,” I nodded with enthusiasm, “though I’m still very much a beginner. I enjoy painting with a friend more than I do when I’m alone.”

“Oh?” Vincent set his palette down and faced me fully, “I can get you a canvas if you want to paint with me.”

“Right now?? I mean I’ve never worked with oil paints before… just acrylic and watercolor.”

Vincent rummaged through his supplies behind his desk, taking out a case full of paint tubes.

“I’ve got watercolors right here,” he shot me an excited smile, and my heart fluttered. How was I so lucky to have such an adorable boyfriend?

I wasn’t used to painting on large canvases— though it was still small compared to his— so I felt pretty intimidated just staring at the blank white abyss in front of me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t know where to start,” I looked back at him sheepishly.

I waved my paint-less brush on the canvas, shifting my gaze between the flower bouquet and the canvas to make a mental sketch. I caught sight of Vincent’s work in progress, and I had an idea.

“Hey Vincent, do you mind if I… copy you?”

“Hm?” He quirked his head to the side.

“I want to learn how to paint like you, that’s how I’ve always learned actually— by watching others.”

His eyes widened, and he stuttered uncharacteristically. His gaze softened, as a small blush crept up his cheeks, and he looked back at his own unfinished work.

“Well, if that’s what you want to do, then I’m all for it.”

“Yay!” I clapped my hands in excitement.

Vincent didn’t have an extra easel, so he suggested I use his. But I insisted that I can work without one. I brought a stool and dragged it close to his and started watching his every move.

“So first, I mixed these colors…” he stretched his arm out to display his color palette. It was a beautiful mess of oil paints, with a large white spot in one corner.

Time flew as we enjoyed the moment in each other’s company doing what we both love.

“I’m not sure how to make this shade…” I pouted, staring at my messy palette.

“The trick is to get a bit of ochre yellow in the mix, and then…”

We talked on and on as we painted together. I tried to keep my focus on the bouquet, but I always ended up leaning over to see Vincent’s own painting.

“Your painting should capture how you see the world, MC.”

“I know… but I can’t get it to stand out the same way yours does,” I confessed.

Vincent’s soft laughter eased my anxiety. I mixed some colors together blindly to try to create the right shade I’m looking for.

“Hey! That’s a great shade of purple you got. How did you make it?” He asked me with child-like curiosity and excitement.

I told him honestly that I didn’t know how, and we sat and experimented together. In a way, it gave me a confidence boost to see him try so hard to replicate the shade that I accidentally made.

Clearly, I had lost track of time because the sun was gone, and the lamp in Vincent’s room was the only source of light left. I didn’t even notice the change, so when I looked up from my work, I had to rub my eyes to adjust.

“Oh boy, I didn’t realize I was so focused. I think I got a small headache…” I brought a hand up to apply pressure on my forehead.

“Are you ok, MC?” Instantly, Vincent was by my side, one hand caressing my arm as I sat on his couch to regain my bearings.

It took a second, but the world stopped spinning. I took a deep breath and looked up, smiling to reassure Vincent. Worry was written all over his face, bordering guilt.

“Don’t look so down, Vinnie~ It’s nothing serious,” I giggled, scratching the back of my head.

I looked between my canvas and his. I was really proud of how it turned out! His painting definitely had better defined lines and clearer contrasts in all the right places. Mine was less impressive in my eyes, but still a full image of the bouquet, no less.

“What do you think of my painting?” I nodded towards my canvas.

“It’s beautiful just like its artist,” he brought my paint-stained hand up to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles.

“Oh you…!” I punched him jokingly with my free hand.

“Mm… I meant it,” he laughed along, shielding his arm from further assault, “I’m a lucky man to be able to share my passion with my sweetheart.”

“Vincent, you’re too sweet.” I wrapped my arms around him, hiding my tomato-red face in his chest.

I felt his arms wrap around me, too, and we sat there in comfortable silence. The smell of oil paints and flowers wafted in the air around us, as his arms squeezed me securely. It was like we were left in our own bubble and time itself had stopped for us to enjoy this moment. I pulled away eventually, needing to wash my hands and help Sebastian with dinner. Looking outside again, I realized I was already late… woops.

“I have to go prepare dinner with Sebas soon, so I’ll see you later?”

I reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He turned his head and captured my lips with his. How am I supposed to say goodbye like this? The thought of leaving this room, this bubble of ours, felt like I was leaving a paradise behind.

“Don’t go just yet…” He pleaded with his eyes shimmering under the glow of the lone lamp.

“How about this: I’ll go wash my hands, then come back to clean up with you. Then, we’ll walk together to the kitchen, deal?”

He nodded, “Deal.”

I went to the guest bathroom room across the hallway. Paint was a lot harder to wash off than I thought. I scrubbed at it with soap, making sure not to damage my skin in the process.

It took a solid while, so I hurriedly dried my hands and made my way back to Vincent’s room. I was standing outside when I heard—

“…and what do we have here?” A chuckle, “Were you teaching a kid how to paint?” It was Theo.

Theo and I… didn’t get along. Maybe our humor just didn’t align, maybe he didn’t appreciate walking in on us that one time when he… shouldn’t have. And maybe I was too sensitive for his bluntness. But we made an unspoken truce to avoid conflict with each other for Vincent’s sake. At least, I thought we did.

Before Vincent got a chance to speak, Theo was already inspecting the foreign painting in art-dealer mode.

“Hmm… the colors are dull, and the strokes are uneven. If they thought they could imitate you, they’ve clearly got a long way to go,” he scoffed.

“Theo, that’s not—”

“And who asked you, huh?” I couldn’t stand aside and let him talk about me or my painting like that. It meant a lot to me; it embodied my precious time with Vincent.

“So the pup wanted to paint, eh? I guess I shouldn’t have expected much, then.”

I was about to give him an earful, but Vincent stepped in.

“That’s enough, Theo! MC and I painted this together. So, if you think it looks like a child’s work, then you’re saying that about me, too.”

“What…? No! I didn’t mean—” He shook his head, choosing to stare at the wall instead. He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “I’m sorry I said those things, hondje. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Well, that was fast. At least he’s being civil about it.

“I-it’s fine… I’m just an amateur anyway,” I hugged my arms, looking away as I tried to calm myself. I was shaking, whether it was from anger or embarrasment, I didn’t know.

The silence was killing me, so I made to start tidying up my station. I blinked away the oncoming tears—I had nothing to cry about! I enjoyed painting with my boyfriend, and Theo apologized.

So, I kept blinking. Discretely.

Or at least as discretely as I thought I was.

Theo dropped the supplies he brought in for Vincent, talked to him for a bit, and left. I wasn’t paying attention to their conversation.

“MC…”

Vincent’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. I sensed the guilt rising in his voice, so I rushed back to hug him in reassurance.

“…don’t worry, Vinnie,” I nuzzled my head into his chest, not realizing my tears had spilled onto his apron, “it’s not like I’m a professional artist anyway, he was just stating his opinion.”

His strong arms wrapped around me firmly, rocking me back and forth as he spoke.

“You are an artist just like me, with your own unique view. That, in itself, is a valuable treasure that no one can take from you,” he pulled away to stare into my tear-streaked eyes with his own saddened cerulean eyes.

Then he smiled gently, soothingly, “Art isn’t about perfection, it’s about self-expression… about sharing your world on a canvas. Today, you shared a piece of your world on my canvas, and it is my greatest honor.”

I was speechless, I couldn’t find the words to express the pride, the elation, the utter admiration I had for Vincent and his ability to always say the right things to cheer me up.

“…Thank you, Vincent. I-I really appreciate it,” I smiled brightly up to him, and my tears flowed freely down my cheeks.

He brought his right hand up to wipe away the tears, using his thumb to caress the side of my face. Try as I might, I couldn’t blink back the tears fast enough before they spilled silently down my face. I wasn’t mad, or sad even. I was just really extremely happy. It’s hard for me to explain though, and Vincent held my face in his strong hands and kissed every tear as they fell.

“We should do this again,” he declared, his hold on me never faltering, “I want to display your paintings all over my room until every part of it is immersed in the world you create.”

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY VINCENT #ikemen vampire #ikevamp vincent #vincent x mc #ikemen vampire vincent #Birthday fic #best boy #also FIGHT ME THEO #side note: I don't hate Theo #I just think we'd butt heads all the time xD #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #alby one-shots

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elriel-oblivion · 4 years

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In Defence of Elriel (I suppose bc I don't really know what this post is lol)

I've been thinking about how elriel are actually such a wonderful ship in my eyes. Of course, I'm biased to them at this point, but a lot of people say Elain and Azriel don't fit well since neither would help the other grow because they'd be a boring couple who don't talk or do anything interesting. And I have two thoughts on that: (this is not against elucien in any way, it's just in favour of elriel 😅😅)

First, we've barely seen them as characters, and not even from their own povs, so I don't think it's fair to judge what they can and can't do for one another just yet 😅

Second, from the few tidbits we have seen, Elain - for all the meekness and passivity everyone seems to associate her with - seems to be one of the only people who can get straight through to Az on another level without trying or making him uncomfortable.

She gives love so freely, it's natural to her to show kindness, so I doubt she thought twice or felt hesitation when she called Az's hands beautiful. And I doubt people generally have the guts to comment on his hands in his presence anyway.

Not to mention the blush that blossomed on his cheeks straight after. To me, it sounds like he doesn't get genuine compliments much, and most people fear him anyway, so imagine drawing attention to a part of himself he's insecure about, a part he can't even hide because it's on full display. I don't think that's an easy feat, especially for someone who's barely acquainted with him. So for Elain, this fawn-like girl, to comment - breathe - about his scars so easily, like she was looking at a piece of art, isn't something that should be overlooked, in my opinion. She saw beauty in him from the get go where he sees none.

Then there's her Solstice gift to him. Not only was she observant enough to notice his headaches, but even Feyre mentioned she hadn't heard such a laugh from Azriel before. A laugh in response to Elain. Elain seems to have this effect on him whereby he experiences emotions he usually wouldn't show or let himself feel; I feel as though she untangles something inside him in a way nobody else has done before, and it'd be interesting to see this opposite given the way we saw Rhys help Feyre feel again.

Her interactions with him are so effortless and natural, yet they hint at her ability to see through his cold stone mask and unravel some warmth in him. I think she would be able to show him what love is, all different types, the beautiful and the gritty because she's not only not afraid to get her hands dirty, but she's also strong enough to own up to her mistakes. I feel like she could definitely push back if she thought Azriel was doing something that didn't align with her values - but that's more something I hope to see as part of her character growth out of the passive archetype and into the type of person who learns and knows themselves and isn't afraid to stand up for themselves and their beliefs. As it is, we've already seen Elain display these traits in trickles before, what with her fervour in protecting the humans any way she could.

On the flip side, Azriel actually sees Elain for Elain. Barely anyone sees her, and she knows it too, given how she mentioned it so morosely in ACOWAR. But Az noticed her from the start, from that fork she gripped like a weapon, to her seer abilities. He's the only one who didn't think she was mad - perhaps, save for Nuala and Cerridwen - the only one who is attentive to her needs and willing to help her.

He opens her up during a time when she's completely closed off to the world and probably even herself. She doesn't even understand what's going on in her mind when he reaches a hand through all that chaos with a guiding light and everything just clicks. She still probably wouldn't have a clue she's a seer without Azriel. He asks the right questions, looks at her without judgement and holds her in this space of comfort she doesn't seem to find elsewhere.

And he doesn't seem to harbour any prejudice against her, not even when they first met. He was polite, by nature presumedly, but Cassian's and Rhysand's comments about Nesta's and Elain's lack of support for Feyre weren't ever seconded by Azriel. I'm sure that lack of judgement doesn't go unnoticed by her and serves to make her feel even more comfortable in his presence.

Do I even need to mention when he risked his neck to save her from the Hybern camp? 😅 By this point, he still barely knew her, yet he was instantaneous and steadfast in his decision to get her back. If he can display that kind of support for her even when they're little more than strangers, then it's a wonder how ardent, unrestrained and free he'd be in his love in an open, mutual relationship with her. Of course, that would depend on his growth too, which is why I think they'd work so well together, he learning to love himself and give his love more freely and she learning to take on life with a bit more verve.

Perhaps he wouldn't be the person to push her and tease her the way Rhys and Cassian do to Feyre and Nesta, but Elain is a completely different strain from her sisters; there's always been a stark contrast that Feyre notes repeatedly through the series between Elain and her siblings. So I think it unfair to expect the same arc for Elain and her relationships. Maybe she just needs someone to listen to her, not play and get under her skin to elicit a reaction. And so far, Azriel and the shadow twins seem to be the only ones capable of truly doing so.

He even gave her his own blade, a possession he hadn't let anybody else really touch. And with it, whether she thought she'd do anything or not, she managed to save the fates of her sister and his brother. If that doesn't say he sees her, or sees something in her, then I don't know what does.

So I would love to see Elain and Azriel push and pull at each other, but not in this chaotic, hate-to-love trope we keep seeing in the series. I think they would wind and untangle and bloom different parts of the other whilst working through the forests of their own souls, teaching each other when to cut away one thorn and healing through the pain of another. I imagine their relationship would be like tending a garden, with care and love and a capability for seeing the beauty within the soil, the beauty that could be with the right nurture. Yes, there would be blood, sweat and tears, but ultimately, the reward would be worth the hard work. Because both have a lot of darkness on the inside that's buried so deep, both have tangled histories to sort through, yet both see the other, see potential, in ways nobody else does. And I think it would be lovely to see them grow on that journey together 🥰

Okay, so maybe a little more than two thoughts haha 😅 But most of this is just an extension of that second thought 😅 Also, this is my first ever written post on tumblr after thousands of reblogs so 🎉 to me lol. And it's four am so if I made any mistakes about the canon, please tell me so I can correct them 😅😅

#elriel #acotar #azriel #elain archeron #acowar #acomaf #acofas

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sasa-gay-yo · 4 years

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His Little Teacher (Levi Ackerman x Teacher!Reader)

Request: Here

Summary: You never knew your favorite kindergartener, Isabel Ackerman, had such a good-looking father until Parent-Teacher Conferences.

Timeline: Modern!AU

Warnings: this bitch is LONG, Some slight mentions of sexual activity, drinkin

Art Credits: ? help pls

She was the only child who never had a chaperone, or a parent come with cookies or treats on their birthday. If you didn’t look at her profile, you wouldn’t even know what day her birthday was and that it had passed a month prior to today. Even when you would go on field trips, like today, sending home permission slips encouraging parents to come to museum, all that came back was the five dollars for lunch and his elusive signature.

Levi Ackerman

Despite that, you loved the little raven-haired girl. She was smart, she always listened, washed her own face and hands after craft time, and she always talked about her father. Even now, on the bus to the museum with her pink princess backpack on her lap, she was talking about her father to you. From what you gathered, her mother had passed away when she was born, and he was the only one taking care of her. That’s what her preschool teacher had said to you in the teacher’s lounge last week. You felt bad that you judged his parenting when you finally learned that, now knowing he was probably working hard to take care of her and raise her as well as he did. You just wanted parents to be involved with their children, especially with your favorite child. However, from what she’s told you about her father, you didn’t need to worry about that too much.

“And he’s so strong Miss. (Y/L/N)! Yesterday, Daddy and I went to pick out a fish tank and he carried it even full of water to our kitchen table. Daddy got a Dory fish and I got a Nemo fish.” You smiled down at her, nodding at her stories. She grabbed at your hand harder, trying to convince you at how strong her father was. You did wonder what the man looked like, again, having the preschool teachers tell you all about her glorious looking father. Still, halfway through the school year, you’d never met him, and she took the bus back and forth from school every day. You just had his neat signature.

Throughout the whole field trip, she didn’t let go of your hand, dragging you around to all of the stations while you let your other fellow teachers deal with the whole group. They knew that they couldn’t do anything to drag you away from that child. She was like a magnet to you, even on the first day of school. Your fellow teachers said that your first class of students was always special, and so it made sense that you had a relationship with a child like that. Bright-eyed, cute, and very insightful on certain things. The only thing that you would write down on her monthly report cards was how blunt she was to her fellow students.

You would have to hide your laugh with the things she said to them. In her defense, nothing she said was wrong, but you did have to teach her how to give constructive criticism without insulting anyone. When you sat her in the time out corner, she would give an annoying look at the calm-down toys, her arms crossed. It was comical, but oh, so cute. This is why you taught kindergarteners. They were just learning how to live life, and you were there to guide them along on their quite funny mistakes... and you got a front row seat to those hilarious moments.

“Miss. (Y/L/N), did I tell you that Daddy can come to student teacher conferences? He gave me a note to give you!” She dug through her backpack again and pulled out a cleanly folded white piece of paper to give to you.

“That’s great, Isabel! I can tell your father how good you are.” She beamed up at me, and you knew how much she loved when you praised her. It must be what her father does at home. You took time to read the tiny note, taking in neat and orderly handwriting.

Miss. (Y/L/N),

Next week’s Parent-Teacher conference openings are at weird times in my work schedule, but I do really wish to attend to talk about Isabel’s first school year. Is there anyway we can have a meeting later in the night? I’m sorry if it’s too much of you to ask to stay in the building that long, but either 8 or 9pm would work best for me. I am able to get Isabel a babysitter then.

My email is: [email protected]

Thank you in advance,

Levi Ackerman, Isabel Ackerman’s father

There it was, that signature. You had seen it almost every week on a random piece of paper or Isabel’s planner. You would make sure that you would stay late for him. You wanted to meet the man that raised your favorite student on his own. Even if it was Friday and you were planning to go out for drinks, you were sure your friends would understand your lateness.

When you had waved all the children goodbye, including Isabel who was always last on the bus wanting to keep talking to you, you went right away to email Mr. Ackerman back.

Hello Mr. Ackerman,

This is Isabel’s kindergarten teacher, Miss. (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). I received your note today, and am totally willing to meet with you at 8:30 or 9 pm. The last scheduled meeting for Friday is at 8:00 pm, so you won’t be holding me back in the building at all. I am excited to meet you and talk about Isabel’s progress!

Best,

(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)

You sent the email and sat back in your chair, thinking about the man before you got to grading the color tests. From what the other teachers had told you, he was short, but very good looking. He also seemed a bit young to be a father, or at least that’s what their judgement was. You probably wouldn’t be very focused on his looks, but his personality. If it was anything like Isabel’s, it was to be enjoyable. You wouldn’t be upset to stay back for that.

In the teacher’s lounge, you took out the early dinner you packed, turning to the others who had done the same. The town had to be small enough that even if they didn’t have Isabel in their class, they would know about the Ackermans. You didn’t grow up in this town, and you only did your student teaching here, so you knew absolutely nothing besides what the PTA moms gossiped loudly about in your classroom.

“Do any of you know about Levi Ackerman? All I’ve heard is that he’s young and good looking. I have a conference with him this week.” You sat down with the younger teachers whom you formed a bond with your first day here. They also looked eager to answer your question in hushed tones.

“The only thing I know is that the woman he got pregnant was like a one-night stand or something. They didn’t like each other, were in the same friend group, and then it was like a drunken fantasy or something. Then, she shows up a few months later after he got hired at this big company in town, pregnant. Rumors say that she was going to terminate her pregnancy, but he vogued to keep it. The day after Isabel Ackerman’s birth, she took off, never to be heard or seen from again.” You mouth widened as you shoveled in your rice.

“I thought she died? Isabel said something like that.” The all shook their heads no.

“It’s probably what he tells her since she’s too young to understand.” You nodded in agreement and turned to Mella who was student-teaching for the preschool when Isabel was there. She was the one who told you how he looked, and she apparently went to school around him.

“Is he as handsome as they say?” She shrugged and took a drink.

“He is, short, but like, he’s a dark handsome if that makes sense. It’s the personality that people didn’t like. He’s really antisocial and mean to other parents, like he’ll insult you for anything. He was the best at everything during high school, and people always thought he was cocky, hence the attitude..”

“So that’s where Isabel gets her little problem from. I hope he isn’t like the other parents then, thinking their kid is the best. If he is, I guess he’ll just be nice to look at.”

Friday 8:39 PM

“Yes, well, sometimes when we see this behavior in a student, we first tell the parents to see if it is something at home affecting them. Perhaps other older siblings? Someone who may show negative emotion to him?” She scoffed in your face and grabbed the behavior evaluation sheet out of your hands.

“There is nothing wrong at our house! How dare you to assume that about us!” The husband just sat back in the chair almost glaring at his wife. Right, right, nothing going on at your house. You felt bad for Ryan too. The boy was smart and incredibly creative, but he couldn’t play well with anyone else. He felt the need to yell at any child who tried to get him to share, probably emulating behavior of an older sibling or parent. No doubt, the mother… but you had to be professional about the headache she was giving me.

“I’m so sorry if my words offended you! I didn’t mean anything like that,” you held your hands up in defense, “Maybe it could be TV shows he watches that models this type of behavior? Something to spur anger?” That made her calm down and think about it. You didn’t think a six-year-old was watching violent TV shows on PBS, but who knows what goes on in that house.

“Maybe we can monitor his TV intake, yes.” You sighed and looked up at the clock. This had gone over thirty minutes because they had to pick apart everything you said about Ryan. You sneaked a look out the door but saw an empty hallway. When was he going to come?

“Thank you both for coming. It means so much to me that you are involved in your child’s education at such an early age. It shows them the importance of an education and makes my job that much easier!” You gave them your spiel, standing by the door, and she refused to leave for some reason. She probably wanted to stay and brag loudly to the next parent who was coming. That was a common thing, for the parents waiting to talk about their kids, but how much genius could you find in your kids scissor practice paper?

“Do you know what parent is next? We’re friends with most of them, you know, PTA president things! It’s getting late however, are we the last ones?” She was looking left and right down the dimly lit hallway to stalk her prey.

“Next is Mr. Ackerman. He’s the last parent to go.” Her smile dropped.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him around. He doesn’t donate for the fairs; he hasn’t come to any of the Daddy-daughter dances we’ve had… I wonder what he even does, all alone like that.” You heard the tone of judgment ricochet through her words and your headache got bigger. She had no room to judge other parents.

“Well, I think it’s very commendable how he’s raised such a wonderful child in the circumstances he’s been given. Being a single parent is never easy. My mother raised me and my siblings by herself.” She looked you up and down, now judging you for your upbringing. She should be judging how her attitude affects her son’s interpersonal skills.

“Ah, yes, how commendable of your mother! Honey, we should get back to the kids.” She gave me a sickening smile before hauling her husband down the hallway, no doubt to insult you. You made sure she turned the corner, and the hallway was clean before you collapsed back on the door frame, holding your head.

“I swear I never had such bad parents when I was student teaching. Ugh, my head. How much can you analyze a five-year-old’s sight word recognition?”

“And they want judge me for not going to any PTA meetings when they act like this.” You jumped, covering your mouth as a silent scream ran through your body. How had you not seen him? He was leaning on the wall right next to the door, suit coat in hand. You were sure you checked both sides of the hallway before you said that. Damn it. Strike one to you acting professional.

“M-Mr. Ackerman. Nice to meet you finally!” You re-tucked your shirt back in before extending a hand. He looked down at it, smirking, before shaking your hand back.

“Nice to meet you too, Miss. (Y/L/N). My daughter seems to only talk about you these days.” You almost blushed at his words and from the fact you finally got to see him. He was incredibly handsome. You didn’t know why you didn’t listen enough your fellow teachers, and you wish you prepared yourself more than the sweater and the midi-skirt you were wearing. You did have a change of clothes for the bar you’d be going to with your friends after this, but that was highly, highly school inappropriate. What was also inappropriate was how long you were staring at his suit clad form. It was the way he had his sleeves rolled up and two buttons undone that made you stare.

“Let’s go in,” you smiled at him, gesturing to the circular table you set up in the center of the classroom. You had Isabel’s file right on the desk waiting for him. It was funny to see him sit in the small chair that was meant for a child who tagged along, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him. It fit his height a bit, and was very cute.

“That chair is for the children unless you would like to sit in it. I have no judgement though; they are surprisingly comfortable.” He looked up at me before seeing the regular sized chairs at the other end of the table. He then just shrugged and set his suit coat to hand on the side of the purple chair.

“We have these at home, so I’m used to it.” You nodded and opted to sit down on an equal sized chair to be eye level with him. He noticed your gesture and smiled at you. Now that, you would literally pay to see him smile again. You thought back to what Mella said. Cocky, insulting; you didn’t see any of that now. Maybe he’d matured the few years after they went to school or just was trying to act nice in front of his daughter’s teacher.

Isabel had talked so much about her father, but he never said how incredibly hot he was. I mean, that made sense, but still. He couldn’t have been older than you, there was no way. How was this man hiding in the midst of all the middle-aged parents? You were excited to share the news with your friends after this. A hot parent was always nice, and you hadn’t had one yet. He would be your first.

“Well, Mr. Ackerman, this is going to be a short meeting. Isabel is my model student really. Here’s some work of hers to look at. She’s smart, attentive, clean, and very, very sweet.” He smiled down at a drawing Isabel had made of him and that made your heart sing even more. This smile was very different from the short one he gave you. It was like his soul was singing through his eyes. How could he be so hot and so loving of his child at the same time? You could see it. The genuine love he had for that drawing and the little girl who made it. The little girl who looked exactly like her father, minus the eye color.

“But she does have a mouth, I know that for a fact. The fat mom called me a few weeks ago complaining about what Isabel said to… what’s his name? Rock? Rufus?” You couldn’t hold in your laugh this time, even if it was unprofessional to agree with him. The whole meeting was unprofessional at this point. You were sitting in foot tall chairs and thinking about how good of a figure he had. It was actually refreshing how laid back he seemed to be, unlike the other parents, especially this late at night.

“Yes, she is sometimes very… critical of her peers. Ryan is a student who doesn’t get along with others. She had to let him know that. To be honest, it is very funny, but still, we have to teach her to be constructive with it.” He nodded, now listening to your words with the same attention he gave to Isabel’s drawing. It made you melt even more. He cared so much about his child. Oh god, why was he perfect?

“I’ll work on her with that. She gets that from me. During quarantine, when she was doing preschool at home, I was also working. She probably heard me talking to some of my workers in that tone.” That made me perk up, knowing absolutely nothing about him. You usually do parent introductions at the first all-class meeting, but he, obviously, wasn’t there. Now that he exceeded all your expectations, you want to know more.

“If you mind me asking, where do you work?” He leaned back as much as he could in the chair, trying to spread his legs under the table. The way his ankle brushed against yours didn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m a Lead Captain in the Survey company in town. I’m fifty-fifty office work and on the job work, lifting and things.” That would explain how good his arms were looking under his sleeves. He did manual labor half of the time.

You nodded and handed him Isabel’s behavior sheet out of the folder. You got your pen to explain him the scales, and when you turned back, he had leaned in pretty far to hover over the paper. Trying to hide your blush in your hair, you tried not to react to his closeness. He didn’t seem to pull back, so you continued to explain to him how her score was perfect except for group behavior. Again, he listened so intently to your suggestions and what you had to say about Isabel it made your heart glow with warmth.

“I guess when she was younger, the only interaction she would get was at morning preschool. She only has a babysitter since I can’t afford daycare. That’s my fault, one hundred percent. I-I heard that you know how single parenting is.” He pointed to the door with his thumb, referring to the interaction you had with Ryan’s parents. It was refreshing for a parent to take the blame too. He was getting more and more perfect by the minute. A perfect child and a perfect father. It made so much sense.

“Yes, growing up I was an attention hog. I only had older brothers, so when I went to school I expect to be treated like a princess. I had my first great awakening when a boy threw mud at my face during recess because I refused to share my swing.” He leaned his head back and let out a deep laugh and you matched him, taking in the view he was giving you. This seemed to be a one night only type thing, so you’d take your liberties where you could. I mean, if you didn’t study his face, how were you going to describe him well enough to everyone at the bar?

No. You shouldn’t be thinking this much about how good looking and perfect a student’s parent was. You shouldn’t be thinking about what’s under his clothes either.

“With the way Isabel talks about you, you might as well be a princess. It’s ‘Miss. (Y/L/N) does it this way, Daddy’ or ‘Daddy, today Miss. (Y/L/N) and I did this!’ You seem to be taking my child away from me, Miss. (Y/L/N).” You smiled, and almost blushed at what he was telling you about Isabel and put a hand over your heart. The teachers were right about your first class.

“You can call me (Y/F/N), Mr. Ackerman. We seem to be similar in age.” He sat up again, nodding and taking the behavior sheet you gave him.

“Then it’s Levi to you, (Y/F/N). I’m thirty-two. May I ask how old you are?” Your mouth dropped and you couldn’t help it. You didn’t think he would be in his thirties and now your numbers were thrown off.

“You don’t look at all like you’re over thirty. I’m twenty-seven.” He smirked again and seemed to be comfortable enough to lean back again, arms coming together behind his head. The pose made your heart beat faster again. Oh yeah, you were telling your friends all about this.

“Well, thank you, (Y/F/N). I’m glad you think I’m so young. Isabel calls me an old man already.” You laughed and looked up at the clock. 8:52. You had time to talk more, pushing a few minutes, but you didn’t know if he had somewhere to go. This meeting itself was set up because of scheduling conflicts. You wanted to talk to him more about Isabel and his experience raising her, but you didn’t know if that would be too personal for him.

“Now, that might be my fault. She asked me sometime during our lesson about family how old did someone have to be to be considered an Uncle and I told her above 30. Then she asked if I was old, and I told her that compared to her I was. So, she now thinks that people about twenty-seven are now old.” He shook his head and let out one huff in laughter.

“Now because of you I have no game. Imagine, first, I already have a child, and now when I bring a date home, she tells her that I was an old man. I never get a third date because of that. Are you trying to keep me forever single, (Y/F/N)?” Was he… was he flirting with you? No, it couldn’t be. He was just talking, just bantering like every parent does. The problem was is that he was a very single, very good-looking parent. This was a dangerous situation and it happened during your first-year teaching. This was bad.

“I’ll talk to her on Monday to tell her to stop calling her father an old man. Does that atone for my sins?” He quirked an eyebrow up, smirking again, but this time you could tell that he was definitely flirting with you.

“Maybe, I’ll have to come to these meetings more often. To check up on your progress with getting my daughter to go against me. The only reason I don’t come around the school often is because of the other parents.” You leaned your head in your hand, finally just deciding to go along with it. Even if he said that, this was probably the only time you two were going to meet and Isabel was going to progress on to a new teacher in a few months. You both were young too, nothing was going to get to HR.

“Next week, I’ll try to get her to call you a silly, old man, how about it? We can have a progress check next Friday.” You felt your Apple Watch buzz, looking down to see who was calling. Armin. He was probably wondering where you were, but you thought you told them you’d be late.

“I’m sorry about that, it’s just my friends.” You went to hang up, knowing that in a few minutes Eren would call. Then Jean. Then Connie. Then Sasha. Then Historia. Mikasa wouldn’t care, but at this point, the train of calls would be never ending. You were going to yell at them for cutting into your time with Levi.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I also have something to do tonight, but it was great talking to you.” You almost pouted when he went to stand up, grabbing Isabel’s folder. You were dumb to think he was flirting with you, and now you got your hopes up.

“If you have anything you need or any questions about Isabel, I’m here to answer them. Also, I’m supposed to extend out an invitation for our Spring Festival celebration next week. If you would like to come, it will be on Friday at 2 pm.” You stood, matching his height. You really wanted him to come this time, as he never came to anything, but you knew he probably wouldn’t.

He smiled at you, “You know, maybe I will come. You’ll just have to protect me from the PTA moms.” You both started walking to the door and you took the chance, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Levi, I stay as far away from them as possible. It’s an all-school thing, so it will be easy to avoid them.” You saw the little glance down to your hand before he just nodded once and continued to walk out of your classroom. He put on his suit coat and looked back at me, smiling a bit to say goodbye.

“Have fun with your friends tonight, (Y/F/N). A great teacher like you deserves to relax.” You smiled back at him, leaning on the doorframe.

“You, too, Levi. With whatever you’re doing tonight. A single father like you deserves to relax.”

Club Rio

“Eren, if I have to tell you to stop touching me one more time, I will break your arm off!” He winced, taking his arm off of your shoulders and drinking his beer. The bar was packed tonight, so there was almost seven of you crowded around a single circle tabletop. You already felt smooshed, so you didn’t want Eren to make it worse.

“How were your conferences today, (Y/F/N)?” Armin asked you from across the table and you held a thumb up while taking a drink. It may be squished, but it was worth it to get this buzz. You took Levi’s advice and relaxed hard. The amount of bullshit you spewed in the last three days to make the parents happy to it out of you.

“Most of them are the same old, your child is great, I love having them in my class, here’s something to work on though, and then they blame my teaching. It’s really annoying having to agree with their criticism of me, but I want to keep my job. However,” you held a finger up, “the last meeting was with a single father in my class. He was amazingly hot. A bit over thirty. He also is the father of my favorite student, so it just added to it. Like a treat at the end of a hard week.” You could hear Jean and Eren scoff, but Historia leaned in, her blue eyes wide and sparkly from the drinks.

“What did he look like?”

“He’s short, like my height, but he has black hair. An undercut. Then he’s definitely muscular. You could even see it through his button up. Thirty-Two. His eyes are really narrow, but like a type of grey that shines. One of the teachers described him to be a dark handsome, and I completely agree. She also said he was kinda of cocky and insulted people a lot. Too bad he doesn’t show up around the school because he’s busy at working at some company in town.” You saw Jean and Armin exchange looks and you pointed at both of them.

“Hey, hey, hey. What was that?” Jean spoke up first.

“Um, well, is this person - is his name Levi Ackerman by chance?” Your eyes widened and you stood straight up, your body colliding with Eren’s. Jean now had your full attention.

“How do you know him? You two didn’t live here before!” Jean leaned to rest his arms on the table, looking at Eren to explain since he wouldn’t have to yell over the crowd.

“No, but he’s our team captain at work. Short, black hair, mean, grey eyes: I think you described him to a T. But, you said he was a treat? That doesn’t sound at all like the Levi that chewed me out today because I didn’t put a signature at the end of my email.” Eren answered and you gave him a confused look. Levi seemed really nice and he joked with you. Maybe it was just his work personality.

“He was though. He even called me a great teacher and we went by first name basis.” This time Mikasa spoke up next to Eren.

“Levi’s nice to women, Eren. Not to people who probably mess up all the time at work.” Eren groaned and you arched your body around his so you could look at her. She did look a little like him, but she was half Asian, so there was some doubt in your mind. From what you could connect though, they may act alike in certain situations. Maybe it was on her dad’s side.

“Ackerman! Are you related?! How did I not think about that before?” She nodded as Eren nudged her for the comment she made about his work ethic.

“On my father’ side. We’re cousins, but distant. I don’t talk to him unless we’re forced to at family functions. But he does act how they’re saying. He’s cold and calm, you can’t tell what he’s thinking usually. Most of the time he has a scowl on his face and doesn’t talk a lot unless it’s an insult or something. Then again, you’re a pretty woman, so that could have changed his attitude.” You blushed a bit, trying to hide it in your hair, but Connie caught you.

“You have a little crush on the DILF, don’t you?! I can see it!” He poked your cheek, him and Sasha roaring in laughter.

“No, he was just nice to look at! He also really cares about his daughter, which is just… girls like guys who are good with kids. Teacher’s also like parents who care about their kids, it makes my job easier.” They still couldn’t stop laughing and you couldn’t stop blushing.

“A teacher-parent relationship, how scandalous,” Jean added in on making fun of me, “What will the PTA moms say about that (Y/F/N)?” You glared at all of them as they laughed.

“I told you he was just hot!”

Paradis Elementary Spring Festival

“Do you need any help reorganizing this whole table so the PTA mom’s stop roping me into work I don’t want to do?” You jumped at the body that came close behind you. You also jumped because you didn’t expect him to show up. The little raven-haired girl ran to the playground and you turned around quickly, eyes wide.

“Levi! I mean, Mr. Ackerman. I’m glad you showed up!” He nodded and used both hands to lean down on the table seeing the cupcakes that I rearranged four times, so I didn’t have to talk to the mothers about their kids.

“You said you’d protect me from them, but there I was carrying all the boxes from their damn cars.” You looked over at the mothers, now huddled around staring at you talking to Levi and gossiping. Figures. Last year, one of the third-grade teachers breathed in the wrong direction and there were rumors about her having an affair with a married man. You hoped you weren’t next on the PTA list.

“Well, its not common for a father to come to these types of events. Notice how there aren’t any on the PTA.” He switched positions so he could lean on the table and watch Isabel play on the swings with her friends and the older children. You picked up the Capri Suns from the ground, deciding to organize them by flavor.

“You know what Isabel asked me the other night? After our conference?” You perked up at his words, signaling that you were interested in what she said.

“Hm?” He scratched the back of his neck, now debating whether he should tell you this. It was a bit personal and maybe would make you, as a teacher, uncomfortable with Isabel. Either way, he did it.

“Well, I actually had a date that night,” your heart dropped a little bit, and you scowled down at your chest, “and my date needed an umbrella, so I went in to get her one. When I came out Isabel was there outside our apartment, glaring up at this woman, arms crossed and everything.” You giggled at that, imagining it in your head. You could see her signature glare now looking up at someone three times taller and five times older. You looked over to Isabel, matching Levi’s stance against the table. Right now, it looked like she was lecturing a boy on how to play the floor is lava.

“She asked me why I didn’t bring you home,” he said through a laugh and you followed his cue laughing. You weren’t doing any laughing on the inside. Your mind was swirling now after he said that, but he couldn’t have meant that. It was just Isabel thinking like a six-year-old. If Levi told her he had a date, she might have just thought that the two meetings were connected. Yeah, he couldn’t mean anything other than that.

Still.

“Ah, she’s funny, isn’t she?” You almost winced at how dismissive your tone was. It sounded like you wanted to move on from the conversation and you were afraid he took it the wrong way. You didn’t want to dismiss the opportunity of it being him flirting with you, but you also didn’t believe that was his intention. Now he thought must have thought that it was your intention to ignore it anyways. He stayed silent after that. Goddamn it. You had to fill the space somehow.

“Are you related to a Mikasa?” He seemed to perk up after that, turning his head to look right at you in recognition.

“She’s my cousin, yes. How do you know her? Are you friends with those brats?” You huffed in laughter at his tone. Brats wasn’t a word you would use for your friend group, but you guessed since he was a bit older and, from what you heard, was annoyed all the time by them at work.

“We know each other from college, yeah. Since they had secured a job at Survey, I decided to follow by teaching here so we’d all live by each other. I met Eren first.” He lifted up an eyebrow and you could see a little trace of annoyance gloss over his face. It was very much an Isabel look, or rather, she’d gotten it from her father. Pretty much copy and paste.

“You met him first and wanted to meet the rest of them?” You rolled your eyes at that. You can see how Connie and Sasha got a bit wild, Eren and Jean a bit intense, but overall, they were great people to be friends with. Armin had helped you through a required science class, Historia and Mikasa stayed with you and bought you ice cream when your boyfriend had broken up with you, Connie and Sasha were the life of the party any hour of the day, and Jean and Eren, respectively, would provide you some stress relief and good times when you were down. No, they were the greatest people you’d met.

“They’re my best friends, Levi. I love all of them.” The annoyed look still didn’t leave his face and he crossed his arms. Was he really going to argue with you about your friend group? If he did, you would definitely text the group chat to make his next work week a living hell for revenge.

“You don’t seem to be like them. Maybe Historia, but still, I wouldn’t peg you to be with that group.” You turned back around, seeing the children starting to walk over to the snack tables. Soon, once they were done with their lunch, they would descend on the cupcakes you were guarding and destroy the orderly table. You had to tape down the cheap plastic tablecloth, so it stood a chance.

“What do I seem like then? They’ve told me about you, you know. I couldn’t believe what they were telling me.” You grabbed the tape, ducking under the table do you couldn’t see his expression. However, his legs moved as he turned to face where you once were.

“Much more professional and put together than them. Maybe Armin is okay, but the others, I had to teach them how to write a formal email.”

“Well, you’ve never seen me outside of a school setting. Arguably, you know all of them more than you know me. If I had to compare myself to any of them it would be a mix between Armin and Jean. When we all go out, it seems to be like that. I can see, though, how they’d be a bit tough to handle at work.”

“Well, then why don’t we meet outside of school?” Your breath had to have stopped, but his face was completely serious. Did he just ask you on a date? Right in front of the kindergarten cupcake table?

“Miss. (Y/L/N)! Can we have a cupcake now?” Two or three of your students gathered at your leg, and you looked down at them, probably with your eyes still wide. You then looked back to Levi who was giving the children a very annoyed stare, before stepping back from the table so they had full access.

“U-Um, what did you – Cupcakes! Yes, El, you can have one cupcake each. What color do you want?” You went to hand them the specific colors you wanted, and you thought that your business would make Levi go somewhere else, but he was there staring at you while you handed them out. His gaze was unwavering as he leaned up against the basketball net’s pole. Even when Isabel came to stand next to his legs, he didn’t look down at her. You knew he was waiting for an answer and you were having an internal crisis.

You didn’t think you’d get this far, actually, no you never thought this would happen. It was going to be the one parent-teacher meeting, then you’d never see him again and only complain to Mikasa and Historia about how you let him get away. Now, he literally just came out with it. Was this his whole intention of coming today? Your stomach did flipflops because of that. But now, you were thinking of how unprofessional it would look if you two did start something. You would be offender number one for the PTA moms and it was only your first year teaching. Then, on the other hand, the school year was almost over, and you would soon not be Isabel’s teacher and you and he were both single. And he was very good looking. And he was good with kids. And you did like him a bit, only having talked to him for thirty minutes. Still, what could fully develop if you took up his offer?

“Can I please have all the parents and their children gather?” You turned your neck to look at the principal who had yelled that through a blowhorn. He was standing on the makeshift stage in front of the school, probably going to give the day ending speech before dismissing the children with their participation medals for the games we played. You would have time to ask your crisis hotline and you were thankful that Isabel so eagerly pulled her father towards the front of the school. You still couldn’t shake his gaze, him looking over his shoulder at you while you tried to hide your blush.

Once you were alone on the basketball field, you used your watch to send a text to you, Historia, Mikasa, and Sasha’s group chat.. You knew whatever they were doing, they would take the chance to slack off. It also had to be important if you were texting during the school day.

From Mi: What are you texting us for?

From Mrs. Potato Head: Yes, aren’t you at school?

From (Y/F/N): Okay, well a situation has occurred, and I need quick guidance. I only have like two minutes

From My Queen: We can help!

From (Y/F/N): Thank you, Historia. I know I can count on you.

From Mrs. Potato Head: Just get on with it! I didn’t eat lunch today and I’m starving!

From (Y/F/N): Ok, ok, ok!

You glanced over at the parents and there he was, staring at you while holding Isabel’s hand.

From (Y/F/N): Oh god, I can’t believe I’m even saying this to you guys. I think Levi asked me on a date!

From Mrs. Potato Head: OUR BOSS LEVI ACKERMAN?!

From My Queen: You sound like a sixteen-year-old, (Y/F/N)! Of course, he would ask you out, who wouldn’t?

From Mi: So, what are you asking us? It’s a yes isn’t it?

From Mrs. Potato Head: Yeah, by the way you were talking about him at the bar last week, it has to be a yes

From Mi: If you two get married, we’ll be cousins

From (Y/F/N): Stop that! I don’t know if I should! I’m his daughter’s teacher and I barely know him

The principal was on his ending notes, and you could tell that Isabel was going to race up to you before saying goodbye. She always did. At the end of the day, you would take he to the bus with the other kids, and she would have to run her homework by you, tell you one or two random things, and then get yelled at before she would go on the bus.

From My Queen: Isn’t that why you go on dates with people or am I mistaken? Mikasa, is your cousin a serial killer?

From Mi: No, Historia, I don’t think he is. I think you should do it, (Y/F/N). Even if it’s kinda weird I’m setting you up with my cousin

You rolled her eyes at her remarks and the clapping notified you that in about thirty seconds a little raven-haired girl was going to be at your feet.

From (Y/F/N): Don’t tell the guys about this please. Not unless the date goes well, okay?

From Mrs. Potato: Oh, so you’re accepting! That’s mad crazy. My best friend and my boss. I’m going to tell Connie

From Mrs. Potato Head: Oh, wait, shit sorry. Nevermind

You groaned and knew that your request would fall on deaf ears. Soon you’d have Jean and Eren at your heels telling you that you shouldn’t go out with anyone but either one of them.

“Miss. (Y/L/N)!” Isabel started her bounding run towards you, and you could see Levi starting to walk in that same direction, his eyes never having left your figure. Jesus, this man’s gaze was so intense.

From (Y/F/N): We’re talking more later

You put your phone away, turning around to face Isabel with a big smile hiding how nervous you were in her father’s presence. Everything wrong was going through your mind. What if he didn’t mean a date? What if he thinks you’re too young for him? What happens when the date goes terribly that you end up hating him?

“Miss. (Y/L/N), I got a medal from the principal, look!” She held up the participation medal that all the children got. Something about everyone deserving to win something. You were falling asleep during that meeting.

“That’s great, Isabel! You can hang it on the fridge, yeah?” You could see his eyes spark when you said that. He smirked, too, finding it funny that you knew about their fridge, completely covered with Isabel’s drawings, report cards, and various other trinkets. Perhaps it was even a bit heartwarming to him.

“Is, can you go get your backpack from the classroom? Daddy needs to talk about you to Miss. (Y/L/N.” The little girl just lifted her head up, almost falling over to look back at Levi.

“But Daddy, I’m not done talking to Miss. (Y/L/N)!” One second of annoyance reappeared on his face before urging her to go do it again. This time, with a pout, she walked inside with the rest of her classmates to go get ready to leave.

“So, how does Saturday sound?” He was really direct, and you’d guess it was his age or the fact that you haven’t dated anyone other than college frat boys in their early twenties. You looked back at him, remembering what the girls said. They wanted you to go on it and you, yeah, you definitely wanted to go on it too.

“At seven?” You suggested and you swear you saw a smile break across his face before he dropped it to nod. That made the butterflies come back again.

“Seven, yeah. I’ll get your address from Mikasa.”

Saturday, 3:57 AM

“I couldn’t believe he posted that either! When Mikasa showed me that, I thought he was for sure getting fired,” my hands moved with my words as I explained to Levi about Eren’s awful thirst trapping social media posts. While I was doing this, he gripped my shoulder with the hand shrugged around me, trying to steer me in the right direction. Granted, I was also probably a little tipsy from the alcohol we consumed at the second bar. It was cheaper and fruitier, so I obliged, and Levi seemed to find it amusing.

“Oh, he definitely got reprimanded. It took everything in me not to kick him. Erwin is usually away, so I’m the one who has to deal with everything. One time they started, oh what are those things called, the pictures that are supposed to be funny?” He was gesturing with the hand next to my ear, trying to get me to fill in the blank.

“Memes? I knew you were old, but not this old, Lev.” He rolled his eyes at you, ignoring your insult and continuing with his story.

“They started a Meme fight in the company group chat even though I clearly laid out the rules to them. Apparently, their explanation was that if they got everyone to do it, I couldn’t punish everyone in the office.” I smiled up at him and grabbed loosely at his fingers, trying to hold his hand, but not really. I ended up just playing with them as we walked up to my apartment building.

“So, you punished everyone twice, yeah?” He smirked as we stopped outside the doorway of my building.

“Three times.” This made you both giggle like children, and you were sure the alcohol, the third round of drinks, was starting to have an affect on you both again. You’d make sure he’d call a cab to get back.

“I can walk you up to your door?” He suggested and your eyes widened, shaking your hands in front of you. He couldn’t know that Historia, Mikasa, and Sasha were on a stake-out at your apartment. It was something you all did when the other would go on a date with a new person. It was to make sure that they got home right and that they had someone to immediately rant, cry, or laugh with depending on how the date went. Last time, you, Mikasa, and Sasha almost went to egg a guy’s house that made Historia cry. However, this stake-out was going to be very different.

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine. I’m actually against gender norms. If anything, I should walk you home.” He raised an eyebrow, taking his arm off my shoulder. He wore the same suit had had during the parent-teacher conference and you made sure to comment on how hot you thought he looked back then. Rolled up sleeves, buttons undone, and now, tousled hair courtesy of you. It was a very good look.

“You wouldn’t want your kindergartener seeing you drunk.” You hit his chest after that comment, knowing you weren’t completely intoxicated. You could get up to your house, take off your makeup, and have a very productive conversation about how he had treated you to ice cream halfway through your bar hopping session.

“I’m not drunk, just happy. Tonight was really fun.” He smiled at you and nodded in agreement.

“Let’s do it again? And again? You up for it?” You matched his smile and grabbed his hand.

“Of course I am. This was probably the best date I’ve ever had, Levi.” You saw the blush paint his cheeks as he went to scratch the back of his neck.

“Me too, (Y/L/N). Me too.” You sent him off in a taxi, a single kiss on his cheek that left a smirk on his face. You stood there for a while too, letting the cool spring wind blow over your bare legs. Yeah, that was a few hours of heaven. Your heart warmed as you went up in the elevator, replaying the events in your head over and over again. You were sad it had to end, but it was almost four in the morning and you’d exhausted all open sit-down bars.

When you got inside your apartment, you saw them all sleeping on the couch besides Mikasa who locked very annoyed eyes with you. You just smiled and slid down the door, sitting on the floor.

“Oh god,” Mikasa groaned, seeing your lovesick face. She never though she’d meet someone who’d act like this for her cousin, must less one of her best friends. Sasha and Historia woke up, rubbing their eyes to look at the time. You wondered when they fell asleep.

“Why are you back so late?” Sasha mumbled, seeing the clock hit four in front of her eyes. At least you left her a stocked fridge. Historia was the first of the two to be wide awake, seeing your face clearly. She almost jumped up from the couch and ran over to you on the floor. You smile was still plastered over your face, thinking about Levi.

“How was it? How was it!?” Sasha covered her ears at Historia’s yells. She would care in the morning when she was awake. For now, she just looked at you as you stared Historia right in the eyes and said those bone crushing words.

“Historia, I think I’m in love.”

“Love?!” Mikasa popped up, sounding so taken aback by that. No, she’d never, ever bet on someone liking, much less falling in love with her cousin. What had he done to you? She rested her head on the back of the couch, looking over to you. Historia grabbed your hand hard, excited for you.

“No way! Are you sure? How do you know? What did you two do for some long? Huh! You didn’t!” You shook your head, knowing what she was thinking. No, he was a gentleman the whole night with you, even if you did exchange a few buzzed kisses here and there on the fake leather couches of a swanky bar downtown.

“We went for dinner first at a hibachi place. We talked for hours and hours, I couldn’t tell you how long. It was just, I could’ve sit and talked to him in that uncomfortable chair for hours. We just walked about everything. Our lives, Isabel, how I became a teacher, you guys; it was just so refreshing. Then, when the hibachi place closed, he said he didn’t want to end it there, and so he took me to this high-end bar, and I had an overpriced martini and we talked and talked some more. I just couldn’t run out of topics, Historia. Maybe it was because I drank so much, but still, I was buzzing the whole time around him. Then when that bar closed, we went to ours, the one we go to, and I drank more. He did too. I guess the alcohol just opened us up. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to someone for that long about absolutely nothing. Even on the way back, we walked by the river, it was so pretty and there were almost no people. Just a little slice of heaven. I’m sad it had to end, but he asked if I wanted to do it again, and again. He’s just so nice and gentlemanly and funny and handsome and cute and-“ Sasha cut you off with her hand. She couldn’t stand someone talking about her boss like that. If she kept listening to you, she would definitely say something at work and she was too afraid of what Levi would do to her.

“Guys, she’s completely whipped for our boss.” You smiled up at her, acknowledging that fact. Being with Levi just felt so good. Your heart was light and your head was buzzing around. Every time he leaned over to kiss you, you had butterflies in your stomach like some little girl. You even went into the date telling yourself you’d have to act more upright than you really are, but that went out the window when the hibachi chef squirted Levi in the eye with water and you couldn’t handle it. You were just so comfortable around him, it was hard to be professional and upright. He did tell you that you were correct, you were different outside of school, but he loved it.

“He told me that my personality came out tenfold when I was outside of school grounds. He said he liked it a lot and thought I was cute.” You were wringing your hands together, the feeling hitting your toes. God, you never had a man make you feel like this. All of the fairytale books you read the kids now made complete sense. Even Sasha’s gagging sound didn’t take you out of that trance.

“You look so head-over-heals, (Y/F/N),” Historia said, laughing next to you while looking at your eyes. She took, well, they all had never seen you like this around a man you went on a date or one-night stand with. Not Jean, Eren, the one guy you dated in college, or the one right after graduation; none of them made you look like this. It almost made Mikasa sick looking at how lovestruck you were on the floor. All for Levi.

Five Months Later

From Captain <3: I venomed you for the pizza last night. You should use it to bring me a bubble tea from that shop we went to last week

From my little teach: I’m in a meeting, but in like an hour, sure.

From Captain <3: I never understood how you seem busier on summer vacation than you did during the school year

From my little teach: Not my fault you chose to date a teacher, at least I’m always free at night

From Captain <3: Then you have to leave early in the morning and the bed gets cold

From Captain <3: You know I’m anemic ☹

“Miss. (Y/L/N), do you find something funny about the change in our core curriculum?” Your eyes looked up to the fifth-grade teacher presenting and smiled to try and hide your embarrassment.

“No, Mrs. Warnas, I was just thinking about the unique drawings I’m going to get from my kindergarteners once we introduce them to storyboarding.” That seemed to satisfy her enough to turn back around and smile to herself at my compliment. I’m glad that was in my head still, because I didn’t want to get caught in front of all the teachers. They already knew I was in a relationship with a past parent, so them catching me texting like a high schooler in class would be mortifying.

From my little teach: You just got me in trouble

From Captain <3: I’m texting you in a meeting too

From Captain <3: You’re just bad at being sneaky

When you showed up at the office, two bubble teas in hand, you were greeted first by Connie who wanted one.

“Pleaseeeeee, I’ve been working so hard today!” You moved the drinks away from his grabby hands and glared at him. You knew that if Sasha came over too, you’d have to guard these drinks with your life.

“They aren’t for you, Con. I’ll buy you one another time.” He whined again and Jean’s head popped up from over a cubical, one arm resting on the edge.

“Jeez, (Y/F/N). Isn’t this the third time this week you came here? I don’t remember you ever visiting us this much before you started dating our boss.” You stuck your tongue out at him and took a sip of your tea to rub it in his face.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t land me. You had so many chances, yet it slipped through your fingers. You and Eren both.” His eyebrow quirked up, smirk breaking over his face. He was going to say something either sexual or annoying.

“I mean, if you want to talk about my finge-“

“What did you say, Kirstein?” Jean dropped his head, mumbling something, and sitting back in his chair. You turned around, locking eyes with Levi who was in the doorway of his office. His face was one you had gotten used to over the few months of visiting him at work. In this building, he was constantly on edge and it showed all over his face. His gaze was harsh, non-smiling, and always laced with annoyance or sleepiness. His words were the same way. Even the tone he took with Jean was the complete opposite of the one he talked to you or Isabel in.

“If I have to hear about Jean or Eren’s college relations with you one more time, I’ll fire both of them. I swear, I thought it would calm down, but almost everyday they have to say something and giggle to each other like fucking school children. Did you get the brown sugar boba?” You handed him his cup, sitting in the chair opposite his. He looked cute sipping on the boba while in his professional setting. The only time he wore his suit jacket was at work, but as he walked out of that door after clocking out, it was the first thing to come off.

“Bad day? You only ask for extra sugar when you’re feeling bad.” He huffed once in agreement with his bad day, taking another big sip and running a hand through his hair.

“A deal with a Japanese company we thought would be easy is toying with us and since Erwin’s out of town, it falls on Hange and I. I’ll probably have to take stuff home tonight and work.” You frowned, putting down your cup on his desk and leaning forward. He’d been stressed recently about work, which culminated in him needing daily visits to his office for you to calm him down. Pretty soon, he’d lock the door, making sure the blinds are all pulled, and have you sit on his lap to calm him down.

“I can take Isabel to mine if you need to concentrate tonight. We still have a few Barbie movies to watch.” That made him smile, but he shook his head, looking down at the papers sprawled all over his desk.

Isabel had been very quick to accept the fact that her teacher and father were dating, and she probably happier than either of you. You both told her after school ended so she didn’t start something with the PTA moms, but it was your carelessness that caused all of them to find out over an email thread. Isabel, however, didn’t care that Ryan would make fun of her for having “Miss. (Y/L/N) as a mommy” because there was finally someone in her like that would play princesses with her that would fit the role. You asked Levi if, before you came, he was forced by the seven-year-old to wear a crown and fake earrings, but he refused to answer. It was also very easy to transition your relationship with Isabel from teacher to, basically, co-caretaker since she already saw you as such. When you told her she could call you your first name, she went crazy being able to call an adult by their first name. Now, she’d gotten more and more comfortable with you over the summer and just recently was able to finally see you as Daddy’s girlfriend and not Miss. (Y/L/N). Soon enough, she was falling asleep with you on the couch or your bed when you babysat her, and had just mistakenly called you mommy a day or two ago.

Levi and you had talked about that situation happening before, so you were prepared to sit her down and tell her that you weren’t her mommy yet, so you’d have to make up an easier nickname to call you. Both you and Levi were pretty sure that you were the person for each other, so there was no reason to forbid her from calling you that. Actually, it was during a post-steamy cuddle session that he’d brought it up.

“I can’t see myself being with anyone else. I know it’s early to say that. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I feel the same. No one I’ve been with has made me feel like you do, Levi.”

“M-me, too.”

“I was going to ask you to come over tonight anyways. Mikasa offered to babysit Isabel over the weekend.” He trailed off on the last word, trying to suggest that we had three open days without a little girl trying to sleep in between us at night. Of course you’d go over.

“I guess I can come. You’ll just have to help me test out some kindergarten activities for the new core curriculum. School starts again next week.” He groaned, more work, but agreed to do it. How hard could it be? It was just cutting and coloring and he did that with Isabel on a daily.

“Mikasa and I are going to watch the Twelve Dancing Princesses tonight. I know you wanted to watch it with me, (Y/F/N),” she said lowering her head onto your chest as you laid on the couch. You laughed and ruffled her hair that you’d just combed out for Levi. He was still in his home office running over papers and making phone calls. Your job was to get Isabel ready and packed to go to Mikasa’s, but she was running late, so you decided to watch videos on your phone till she got there.

“That’s okay, Bel. I’ve seen it before. That means when you come back over, you can watch the Princess and the Pauper with me.” The little girl smiled, which was followed by a yawn as she watched some toy opening video on YouTube.

“Can we sing like last time?” You laughed a bit, so you didn’t disturb her tired form, slowly slipping into a nap as she laid on you. Apparently, Levi let her stay up last night, forgetting that this little girl won’t tear her eyes away from the television until you force her too. He had gone back to do some work and when he emerged at two in the morning, there she was struggling to keep her eyes open. So much for trying to get her back into a school sleep schedule. You were no better though, going to bed at three last night because you waited last minute to start writing lesson plans. This made you yawn along with her and close your eyes.

“Yes, we can sing like we did with Frozen.” She hummed a bit, snuggling again against your chest as she decided it was time to take a nap. You quickly agreed with that idea.

Knocking on the door broke Levi from looking at the figures for the latest project and he leaned out of his office to see both you and Isabel sleeping on the couch. He smiled to himself, heart singing at the view, and went to open the door for his cousin.

“Where’s she at?” He frowned at Mikasa, moving so she could walk in and see you two sleeping on the couch. Levi didn’t want to move you two, and in actuality he wanted to add another picture to the album on his phone, but it would be way too embarrassing to do in front of Mikasa. Mikasa on the other hand had put a pizza in the oven and was ready to go. Levi grabbed her arm to stop her from shaking you two awake.

“Let them sleep. They both stayed up late.” She rolled her eyes at Levi and he responded with an even more annoyed eye roll. Couldn’t she calm down for a few minutes?

“They get five more minutes of beauty sleep.”

“How gracious.” He stood there, arms crossed, looking over at the two who had no idea Mikasa walked in the door. You had one hand over Isabel’s head and the other hanging of the couch, gripping a phone still playing some YouTube video in the background. Isabel had her small hand touching your cheek, head buried in your chest as she snored soundly on her favorite bed. When Mikasa looked over at her cousin, she thought she was going to be sick. It was the same look you had coming back from you two’s first date and one she’d seen on your face when you bounced into their office. She’s gotten used to you, but this was the first time she saw Levi like that. She snorted at him and he dropped it, morphing back into his normal, harsh glare.

“Never thought you’d be so wrapped around (Y/F/N)’s finger.” Levi scoffed at her, making sure it wasn’t loud enough to wake you two.

“I’m just admiring my girlfriend and kid; can I not do that, brat?” Mikasa laughed a bit at him trying to hide his embarrassment with another insult. He did the same when she walked in on you two making out in his office, having forgotten to lock the door.

“You can, just not with my best friend. Makes me sick.” Levi felt like his eyes were going to roll out of his head. Once you two started dating, that whole friend group had been insufferable to him. Eren and Jean talking about all their college flings with you, Connie and Sasha always bursting out laughing for no reason, and Mikasa made fun of him for showing emotion. The only one he still liked was Armin who inquired about your class activities as school and the other kids besides Isabel.

“When are you going to marry her?” Levi was taken aback by that question, but Mikasa was completely cool. It sounded so natural coming from her lips that Levi couldn’t help but actually answer back. It wasn’t a surprise to Mikasa when he told her his intentions. From the day you came back from your first date, she knew you’d probably become her cousin in less than a year.

“Haven’t planned out anything, but I have a ring.” She laughed at him again, this time adding a tad bit of happiness into it. Yeah, she was okay with Levi and you, but she didn’t know how the others would take the news. Eren and Jean would be distressed, Historia and Sasha ecstatic, and Connie and Armin probably neutrally happy. She’d probably have to pull Eren “that should’ve been me” Jaeger and Jean “if only she gave me a shot” Kiersten home from some random bar.

“Did you tell Isabel?” Levi nodded, remembering the conversation he had to have with her about keeping very, very important secrets. He even said that if Isabel told you, he would cry, which made it seem very serious to Isabel.

“She helped me pick it. Something about knowing what plastic rings (Y/F/N) liked. She slipped up this week though and called (Y/F/N) mommy. I had to bust my ass to cover that up.” This made Mikasa actually smile. Her best friend would be a great mom, but she didn’t want to think about it. You weren’t the first person she thought was going to get married in their group. Probably Historia, or Armin and his girlfriend, not you, the girl that fell into the Education major who partied all the time stereotype.

“You’re marrying someone crazy; I hope you know that. By day, she’s a wonderful kindergarten teacher who all her students and parents love, and by night, she’s on top of some table in the club singing to Abba.” Levi grit his teeth, remembering clearly the first time he was forced out with you and the brats. Eren challenged you to a drinking contest and you stupidly accepted, which made it Levi’s job to drag you home and nurse a hangover the next day. It didn’t help that the next day you had another Teacher’s Institute meeting and complained to him that everyone there knew you were hungover. Those were some giant hoops Levi had to jump through to explain to Isabel why you were “sick”.

“Who do you think is the one getting her down and waking her up for school the next day?” Not caring anymore about saving face with Mikasa, he took his phone out, taking a picture of his two girls. Staring down at you holding his daughter, his heart swelled even more. You were going to be a great mom to Isabel, even if you told Levi that you weren’t made for it. Levi thought the same thing when he held Isabel for the first time, alone and abandoned. He reassured you, saying that Isabel has never had a mom in the first place, but you were still worried.

You don’t have to be worried, he thought watching Mikasa kick you awake, you’re perfect. His perfect little teacher.

“Five minutes is up. Time to come to Aunty Mikasa’s so you won’t end up in therapy later in life for childhood trauma!”

xx Perhaps I got a LITTLE carried away, i hope you like it though! It’s a bit less cute than originally planned

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman scenario #attack on titan levi #shingeki no kyoujin levi #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #dadlevi #modernau #aot x reader #aot x y/n

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mxndoscyarika · 4 years

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Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 1

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: food/drink mention

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: I’m so excited for you all to read this story! Special thanks go to Lynn (@mindless--ramblings) for always being so supportive and helping me stay inspired! Ever since I found out Pedro now has two characters named Marcus, I’ve wondered about ways I could connect them in one piece of writing. And this? This is that piece of writing. Moreno won’t be making an appearance in this one, but I hope Pike will make up for that 😉 Enjoy!

Ground floor.

First floor.

Second.

Erin He took a deep breath, thankful that the elevator was empty. She straightened the collar of her shirt as the fourth floor approached. At her side was her government-issued laptop, which she’d picked up from the front desk. Her fingers gripped its edges tightly. This was it. She made it.

The elevator let out a soft ding and opened its doors, revealing a floor of cubicles and conference rooms. Austin sunlight filtered through large windows, illuminating the space alongside the bright fluorescent lights.

She stepped out, searching for the art theft department’s main office. As much as she understood the need for technology specialists across all the FBI’s branches, she never quite grasped why she was placed in the art theft department, of all places. She always thought she’d be in the operational technologies department, developing and maintaining tools for others to use. Though she couldn’t blame them; intellectual property was highly valued and often stolen.

The email said to report to the department supervisor’s office for a quick onboarding, but they didn’t exactly mention what it would be. It could’ve been anything from a quick handshake to being told to shadow a coworker. Hopefully the former.

Part of her begged to the gods of computer science that she wouldn’t be assigned to yet another condescending old white man. Her last welcome at a company had been less than mediocre, and lukewarm at best.

The other part of her nagged that she’d signed up for exactly that.

“Ah, there you are. Welcome to your first day, Special Agent He,” the department supervisor–Harold Strauss–greeted as she entered his office. He gestured to the man standing in front of his desk. “This is Agent Marcus Pike. He will be showing you the ropes today.”

Agent Pike looked at her over his shoulder, the corners of his lips curling in a friendly smile. He couldn’t have been much older than her, with his faint smile lines and soft brown hair. He tucked his hands into his pockets and turned around to face her.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied. She shook his hand and then extended her hand to Pike. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking time out of your day to show me around.”

“Likewise,” he replied, shaking her hand. His brown eyes sparkled as he proposed, “Should we start? I have a meeting in about half an hour, and I’m sure you’ll want to meet some of our operational techs and digital forensics team. They’re the backbone of everything we do here.”

They acknowledged their supervisor once more and then left to begin the tour.

As her personal guide gave her the rundown of the floor’s organization and workflow, Erin couldn’t help but sneak a couple more glances at him.

He was taller than her by a few inches, but not in such a way that she felt like shrinking into herself. And he always stayed at her side, never walking ahead or lagging behind. His strong jaw led her gaze to a pair of soft lips, which seemed to be in a perpetual smile as he talked about the breakthroughs the department had in the past days.

“Do you know where your desk is?” Pike asked.

“Yeah, they told me the other day,” she answered, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ears. They walked over to her assigned desk, which was barren save for a standard computer, box of pens, and notepad. “If you’re going to ask if I need help with setup, I think I should be alright for now. Nothing a few installations and linux commands can’t fix.”

He chuckled softly and nodded. “You’re living up to your title, Agent He. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I could’ve been much help even if I offered. Have you done work similar to this before?”

She shrugged. “I worked in cybersecurity and software development,” Erin replied, setting down her bag and laptop on her desk. Slipping off her black blazer, she continued, “But I figured I should do something more than just build products for tech companies. Use my skills to aid in investigations.”

He nodded in understanding. “I see what you mean. Actually, I was originally studying to be an art history professor. But then I found this job and figured I could use my knowledge to help find and preserve artworks.”

Hm, noble.

“Sounds like we aren’t so different,” she observed, following him across the officespace. “Let’s hope that I can be of help around here.”

He chuckled softly, the dimple in his cheek showing as he smiled. “I think you’ll fit right in.”

---

The words on the screen blurred into the white background of the screen, as if they were mocking her. Each line of test slowly lost its meaning, turning into mind-numbing strings.

Erin pushed her computer away and rubbed her eyes defeatedly, sighing. The department was launching an investigation regarding a museum that was broken into and wiped clean. What little data was left on the computers, from what she gathered after hours of poring over them, was largely useless. Hopefully, one of the other agents would find something helpful in the other remnants. Perhaps an address, or some sort of signature that could be traced to a group. Her, on the other hand? She just wasted hours of work.

A steaming cup of coffee was set down onto her desk, along with some sugar and tiny cups of cream.

She looked up to find Marcus–Pike, she reminded herself–standing at her side, looking down at her with a soft smile. “Find anything?”

“Nope,” she sighed. It turned out that Pike was one of the best agents in the department, and that meant he spent most of his time leading and organizing investigations. What that meant for Erin, then, was that she had to answer to him. Thankfully, he was never weird about it. Quite the opposite, actually. Tapping the side of the cup, she asked, “Is this for me?”

He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah! Sorry; I would’ve fixed it, but I wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee.”

“Well it’s nothing complex, if that’s what you’re nervous about,” she teased. Two sugars and a drizzle of cream turned the pitch black liquid into a deep brown. She took a sip, the placebo of caffeine already kicking in. “When you’re in STEM, you learn to appreciate caffeine in any form. But I like it like this.”

“Noted,” he said, his voice a soft timbre amongst the flutter of papers and clacking of keys. Hands resting on his hips he asked, “How long do you think it’ll be before you find anything?”

“Anywhere from an hour to another three...or five,” she sighed, lazily scrolling down the file. Basking in the steam from her cup, she continued, “I’m gonna need a lot more of this coffee. There has to be something useful in this file, I just need to find it. I might need to cross-reference with some of the other evidence to notice anything.”

A headache was already descending upon her, and she was only six hours in. Weak–she’d stared at a computer much longer without any problem many times before. Why, of all times, did it have to happen when she was talking to her coworker?

“Well, I’ll be here pretty late tonight, so if you need anything, just let me know,” he replied, patting her shoulder. The crease between his brows deepened as he squinted down at the screen. “Maybe you need a fresh set of eyes on it. Take a break, Erin.” At her responding pout, he reasoned, “It’s been almost a month and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you rest.”

Of course he noticed her breaks, or lack thereof. She rolled her eyes, hiding a bashful smile in her cup. “I work best in sprints.”

He hummed amusedly. “But even sprinters need breaks, don’t they?” Then, his eyes lit up. “Actually, why don’t you take a break now?”

Erin raised a brow. “Am I not taking a break right now?”

His laugh was warm. “I mean a real break. Let’s get lunch; my treat.”

“Are you really going to make me choose between food and digital forensics, Agent Pike?”

Nodding definitively, he replied, “Yes, Agent He.”

Unable to resist the prospect of free lunch, she gave in and followed him out to his car. The work would still be there when she returned. For the moment, she could just enjoy Marcus’s companionship.

He drove out to a local diner about ten minutes away, his turns confident as if he’d gone there hundreds of times before. Judging by the way his eyes had sparked with joy at her agreement, he probably had.

They let their shoulders relax in the serenity of the car, shedding the formalities and passing time as if they were close friends.

The diner was small and cozy, booths worn with age and serving breakfast all day. Erin��s lips curled up in a little smile as the hostess recognized Marcus. So he was a regular, after all.

They sat down across from each other in a booth. Erin shrugged off her navy blue blazer and smoothed her dark hair back into a thick ponytail.

As she fixed her hair, Marcus gave her his recommendations, leaning in with the menu so she could follow along with her eyes. He seemed particularly fond of the pancakes, so she decided on those. Surely he wouldn’t lead her astray.

And with the way his voice rasped just slightly, she could listen to him speak for a whole day.

“Honey? Did you hear anything I said?” he asked, tilting his head slightly with a little smirk.

Erin snapped out of her reverie, cheeks burning. “Oh, um. Yeah. Sorry, I spaced out for a bit.”

“No worries, it happens to all of us,” he reassured, laying the menu flat on the table. “What were you thinking about?”

Less than an hour had passed before they were back in the office, stepping out of the elevator with full bellies. The familiar clicking from computers and buzz of conversations filled the air, and they were officially agents again.

Erin turned to him and nudged his arm. “Hey, thanks for the break.”

“Anytime,” he replied, walking with her along the perimeter of the room. They stopped at the hallway leading to the conference rooms and offices. His large hand moved to rest on her arm, his thumb rubbing gently. “I guess this is my stop. You know where to find me.”

“And you know where I’ll be.”

The next day, Marcus was greeted in his office by tupperwares containing homemade fried rice, some cut up fruit, and a sticky note.

Thanks for sticking with me yesterday. -E

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he tried to refrain from grinning like a maniac, though he was sure anyone who happened to pass by would’ve thought he looked like a schoolgirl with a crush. Erin’s handwriting was soft and curved, so similar to calligraphy but simple in a way that made the note feel that much more intimate.

She had an interesting way of showing her care for others, he found. Perhaps it was a byproduct of the work she dedicated her life to; she seemed to always be one step ahead, ready to pull out small details that others would dismiss. He wondered what she might know of him.

There were a few things she clearly knew; things that surprised him every day. Just as he’d learned her usual coffee order, she’d learned his. When he’d walk in every morning, her head of dark hair would tilt to peek over her cubicle, as if she could sense his presence. And when their eyes would meet, her smile was better than the best espresso in the world.

Marcus shook his head to himself as his heart fluttered. Years of failed relationships and a divorce later, he still couldn’t keep his feelings in check. His mother always said he had a soft heart, one that would be his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. But Erin was anything but a weakness.

She wasn’t a weakness, but a strength. A constant in his life, making each day feel just a little more special. He didn’t need a relationship to be happy, but….he wouldn’t be opposed to one either.

Yet, as he spotted Ian Malarkey standing a bit too close to her, he forced himself to backtrack. What if she didn’t want him? What if they were meant to be just as they were: just friends?

Maybe it was time for him to move on.

After a few months, their friendship had grown well past a workplace acquaintance. It wasn’t as if she was trying to get attached to him; it just...happened. And it was only a little surprising to her; she tried to stay as professional as she could in the office, but outside? Outside, she could just be Erin, not FBI Special Agent He. Outside, she could shed her jacket and swap the button-down shirt for a ribbed sweater and some jeans. Outside, she and Marcus could sit as close together as they wanted without drawing unwanted attention.

She knew it was silly to fantasize. After all, Marcus was a coworker, if not a superior. And with the way he fussed over her water intake and made sure that she wore her glasses at the right times, he could easily see her as a little sister. As nothing more than a new agent who happened to be friendly.

But if that were true, why would he go through the effort of bringing her lunch on Thursdays? Why did he call her little names like “honeydew” and “sweetheart,” and why did it feel so natural coming from his mouth?

The commotion coming from the direction of the conference rooms told her that the team was back from the investigation. Maybe Marcus was there; she knew he’d gone, but he hadn’t texted since morning. It wouldn’t hurt to pop in to check on him; he did that often enough with her.

When she entered the break room, her heart sank. Sitting off to the side, by the wall, was Marcus asking Teresa Lisbon out on a date. She wasn’t sure why she felt defeated; it wasn’t like she had any plans on asking him out.

But then why did it hurt her to the core to see him giving those puppy eyes and little smiles to Lisbon? The woman didn’t even look interested in him; if anything, she looked confused and hesitant.

Ian caught her eye as she surveyed the room once more, his lips pulling into a tight-lipped smile. He knew about her feelings for Marcus, having spent hours going over evidence and making small talk. In fact, he’d even encouraged her to tell Marcus her feelings, out of fear that she might never get the chance.

Perhaps her chance had passed after all. Turning on her heel, Erin decided that, for once, it was time to go home. Marcus would come to her when he was less busy.

The thing was, though, she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to go over and say hello, and check to make sure he wasn’t injured in the scuffle. Moreover, she didn’t want to be a fill-in for Lisbon’s absence. She didn’t want to be his second choice. And she knew it wasn’t her fault, nor Lisbon’s, that Marcus didn’t choose her. But it still stung.

She watched as their shared lunches became less frequent, the senior agent replacing her space by Marcus’s side. When the elevator would ding at 7AM and she’d glance up to see if it was him, she found him searching the room for Lisbon. They never drifted over to her desk. That fact always made her grip her pen just a little tighter.

On the days when he did grace her with his presence, she felt like a tornado of emotions.

Happy, because she had missed her best friend.

Sad, because she knew the next time she’d spend time with him was in a few weeks rather than a few days.

Grateful, because she knew how hard it was to socialize after a work week of at least 50 hours.

Envious, because of the stories he told.

Relieved, because he still cared.

Plastering a halfhearted smile on her face, Erin listened to Marcus practically worship his girlfriend. His summer breeze of a smile and sparkling eyes made the pain that came with listening worth it. The only other time she’d heard him talk that passionately was when they’d visited an art museum.

At least one of them was happy.

She thought of trying to date again; it had been over a year since she’d been in a relationship. But she couldn’t do it. More than once, she’d put on some simple makeup and casual clothes, ready to head out to the bar, but no. She couldn’t bring herself to leave the apartment. The apartment was where she and Marcus watched movies, where she would cut up fruit and bring them to him on a plate while he pored over reports in the warm lights of the kitchen. It was where he’d navigate her cupboards and fridge to make her a mug of his special hot chocolate. It was her safe space, the one place in her life where she could just be Erin, and he could just be Marcus.

The knife cleaved the melon in half with ease, revealing its pale green interior.

Marcus leaned up against the counter next to her, hair tousled and necktie loosened against his chest. He absentmindedly started rolling up his sleeves, undoing the cuffs of his shirt and folding them up.

She tried not to stare too long at the way his forearms tensed with the movement.

He broke the silence first. “I got the job in DC,” he said, voice soft like velvet.

“That’s great.” A simple response, though Erin cringed internally. Was that any way to react to her best friend’s job promotion? Surely not, but a part of her–a selfish part of her–knew that it meant he was leaving. Leaving not just his position, but her. Texas. The apartment.

It would’ve been disingenuous for her to say anything more.

Then, he added, almost sheepishly, “I also asked Teresa to marry me. And move to DC so we can be together.”

The blade of her knife hit the cutting board a little harder than normal. “Oh. That’s nice.” Cutting away the tough outer skin, she forced herself to ask, “What did she say?”

He sighed and crossed his arms, biting his lip as if to contain a smile. “She said she’d think about it. But I think she’ll come around. I kind of, uh, sprung it onto her the other night.”

And yet there he was, standing next to a woman who would’ve been ready to say yes. But even so, she said, “I’m sure things will work out between you two. You’ve already given so much to your relationship; it would be a shame for her to not see how great you are.”

She slid him a bowl of perfectly cubed melon.

Smiling softly, he took the bowl into his hands. “You’re the best, honeydew.”

The best, but not the one.

“You’re just trying to get on my good side before you leave for DC, brown eyes,” she jested, nudging him with her elbow. Her chest filled with warmth at his laugh. She tried her best to hang onto that feeling, to that sound. “When are you two leaving?”

“I’m already about halfway packed,” he mused, chewing on a cube of honeydew thoughtfully. “So maybe within the week? I hope that’s enough time for Teresa to make a decision.”

There was less time than she thought. She hummed softly. “Are you sure that’s what she wants? That it’s what you want?”

He nodded confidently. “Yes, I...I know that I don’t have the best track record with relationships, but something about her feels right.” The bowl was set into the sink and filled with water. “I’m happy, honey. You don’t have to worry.”

Erin’s eyes burned as she quietly replied, “Okay.”

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

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An Art of Balance #27

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: Greatest thanks to @carewyncromwell for being the best beta reader ever and knowing my characters better than I do! <3 Also, please don't be mad with me, okay? *ducks from angry Charlie fans*

Word Count: ~ 3.100

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Chapter 26: Skewed Perceptions

To distract herself from her mind crushing thoughts, Lizzie wandered the sunny grounds for some time. She had no particular destination in mind but it was still too early to meet Charlie at the Reserve and the thought of returning to the castle made her feel positively sick. All that was waiting for her there were Rowan, the nasty rumours and the judging stares of her peers. The thought alone had her throat tightening; out here, under the open sky, she at least felt like she could breathe more freely.

The fresh air and sunshine helped restore her physical energy, but Lizzie didn’t feel better at all. She had no eye for the budding flowers lining the pathways or the blinking of the sun on the surface of the Black Lake. All she could focus on was keeping the broken pieces of her heart together. Orion had looked so resigned when she had informed him of her decision, and even though he had been quick to keep himself in check, the flash of disappointment shining in his eyes hadn’t been lost on her.

Every time she thought of him, the longing for his company grew almost unbearable. The realisation of what she had thrown away before it could even have a chance to begin threatened to suffocate her.

Lizzie was blinking back the tears that just didn’t want to stop welling up in her eyes, but she refused to cry any more of them. She had brought this upon herself after all and had done the right thing in the end. Maybe the pain tearing at her insides was the just punishment for all the lies she had told to the ones she supposedly held so dear.

After some more aimless wandering, Lizzie directed her steps towards the Creatures Reserve. She had just passed Hagrid’s hut, when the faint sound of her name had her stop and turn around.

Skye was jogging down the steps that led back to the castle. Apparently, Penny’s Pepper-Up Potion had finally kicked in; Skye was looking a lot fresher than before; her face had a healthy colour from running and her movements were full of her typical vigour, a stark contrast to Lizzie’s sorry state. But she highly doubted any potion in the world would have helped her feel better anyway.

“Jameson,” she shouted again as soon as she was within earshot. She quickly caught up with Lizzie, her breath not even unsteady. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Well, now you found me,” Lizzie answered wryly, not really in the mood for a conversation. She hadn’t seen Skye since that morning, when she had shut a door in her face to keep her from prying.

Skye put her hands to her hips and looked her up and down. “We need to have a word.”

Lizzie couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Seems like I’m doing nothing but talking today.”

“You’re going to tell me what the hell’s going on right now,” Skye huffed, bluntly ignoring Lizzie’s sarcasm. “Rowan and Penny are acting all weird and I heard that moron Everett talking shit about you in the Common Room.”

Her green eyes flashed angrily. “Gave him a bloody piece of my mind. He’s been badmouthing you all over the school, it seems.”

Relief washed over Lizzie at hearing Skye’s words. Of course, having a teammate spreading stories about her was awful, but at least it hadn’t been Rowan’s work after all. Lizzie felt yet another pang of guilt at having suspected her in the first place.

“What did he say?” she sighed. She did have a good guess, but wanted to hear it from Skye herself.

“He said you’ve been messing with Weasley and the captain at the same time.” She snorted in disgust as she continued. “Called you a few very nasty things as well, but I’m pretty sure he won’t repeat those anymore.”

Lizzie rubbed her temples; the pain hammering behind them was starting to come back at her words, spreading down into her jaw and neck. “Do I even want to know what you did?”

Skye’s expression didn’t even flinch. “Probably not; so please tell me risking eternal detention was justified and he’s deranged and made everything up.”

Lizzie felt like she was being caught in a continuous loop when she replied with a vague “Well, kind of.”

Skye’s eyes went wide and her face quickly changed colour. ”What do you mean, kind of?!” she gasped incredulously and gripped Lizzie’s shoulders. Her headache was intensifying quickly as Skye started shaking her.

“Relax; not like you think,” she hurriedly replied to calm Skye’s panic. “There’s nothing going on between Charlie and me. No meddling outside of the team, don’t worry,” she couldn’t help but add sardonically.

Skye was silent for a moment as she let the information sink in. Her eyes narrowed. “So that was Orion’s coat this morning?”

Lizzie bit her lip and as she wound herself out of Skye’s grasp. “Do you really need an answer?”

But Skye wasn’t having any of it and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You bet.”

With a sigh, Lizzie started recounting what had happened after she had left her and Penny at the party yesterday for the second time. With how often the scenes had played in her mind, it felt like close to the hundredth time, though.

Skye’s jaw dropped at the same rate that Lizzie grew more miserable. It felt like poking into an open wound that had just stopped bleeding again and again.

When Lizzie reached the point where Rowan had caught her and Orion kissing – the thought alone sent her emotions into overdrive again and had her cheeks blush dark red even now – the sympathy on Skye’s face quickly turned to worry, flowing seamlessly into something resembling a mild panic. It was only then, when she felt the tears trickling down her face, that Lizzie realised she was crying again.

She wiped at her eyes angrily but it was no use; the tears were spilling down her cheeks and she couldn’t help the sobs shaking her body.

Lizzie didn’t recall having cried in front of Skye ever before; up until when Skye had opened up to her about her father, they had never gotten so personal before. They would have rather cheered each other up straight away, than ride out their breakdowns together. It felt like crossing an invisible line; neither of them was used to comforting the other through some serious heartache.

“Blimey, Liz…” Her tone was unnaturally uncertain. She laid her hand on Lizzie’s back in an awkward motion and started patting it clumsily.

Lizzie had cried so much already, she was honestly sick of it; Skye’s crude attempts at cheering her up made her smile despite herself. She straightened her shoulders and wiped her eyes; Skye was visibly relieved to see her regain her composure.

“I’m alright, don’t worry. Thank you for standing up for me to Everett, in any case.”

Skye grinned and elbowed her into her side. “We’re mates after all, I’ll always have your back.”

Her smile faded a little as she continued cautiously. “So, what’s the deal with you and the captain now? It’ll rattle the team like hell, you know.”

“No, it won’t, whatever happened between him and me isn’t going anywhere; I had to promise Rowan.”

“Oh,” was all Skye managed as a reply, the wind taken out of her speech on team ethics before she had even begun. She was clearly looking for the right words to say but didn’t find any.

“Perhaps it’s better for all of us that way,” she finally said.

When Lizzie raised her eyebrows doubtingly, she quickly clarified, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m really, truly sorry for you guys, but I told you there’s a reason the Pro League wants their players to stay on friendly terms. Getting involved messes with the head.”

Another grin formed on her face, looking maybe a bit too jaunty, but Lizzie knew she was doing her best to cheer her up.

“Look on the bright side, Jameson; now that that’s out of the way, we all can completely focus on smashing Gryffindor and finally get our hands on that bloody Cup. You’ll see, no feelings, no distractions.”

Lizzie’s head was still spinning from Skye’s words as she finally made her way to the Creatures Reserve. Usually, she would have dismissed Skye’s attitude with an eyeroll or a snarky comment, but she couldn’t help the thought that perhaps this time Skye was right.

It was not like her situation could get any worse, so why not put her focus on something that she could actually control for a change?

She found Charlie right at the edge of the Forbidden Forest; he was sitting on the ground surrounded by an assortment of Wiggentrees, several Bowtruckles climbing up and down his back, shoulders and outstretched arms.

When he saw her approach, he gently placed them back onto their branches and got up with a warm smile.

“Hey Shortcake, how did it go?”

Her mind was still preoccupied with processing everything that had gone down since she had last seen him, so Lizzie didn’t immediately catch on with Charlie’s meaning. “What?”

“You said you wanted to get to the root of the talking, remember?”

“Oh yeah, right,” she mumbled absentmindedly. She had totally forgotten about what had made her seek out Rowan in the first place. “According to Skye, it was Everett, our moron of a Beater.”

Confused, Charlie tilted his head. “Why would he do that?”

Lizzie could only shrug; to be perfectly honest, she was past caring at this point. “He’s jealous, I guess; he couldn’t land with me when tried, so that’s probably his comeback now.”

“But why tell you’re with me?”

“Because it’s the best way to get back at me and Orion at the same time,” she sighed. “He can’t stand the fact that I prefer someone else to him.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “As if he had ever been an option.”

“I know he’s your teammate and all but, damn, what a bloody jerk,” Charlie huffed. “He’d better learn to live with his injured pride now that you and Amari are finally going places.”

Much to his surprise, Lizzie’s face fell at his words. “No, we aren’t,” she declared with a defeated voice. “I called things off with him for Rowan,” she explained at Charlie’s astonished expression.

“I’m really sorry to hear that.” His face softened with sympathy at Lizzie’s apparent distress. “How do you feel now? Do you want to talk about it?”

Lizzie knew she would start crying again if she had to dissect her feelings one more time, even if she knew Charlie genuinely cared. So she swallowed the lump building in her throat, straightened her shoulders and put on the most light-hearted smile she could muster.

“I’m alright; it was the right thing to do in the end,” she stated with a firm voice.

Charlie’s eyes didn’t leave her face for a second. “Are you sure? You know you can always talk to me, I’m here for you.”

When she shook her head, he offered her a tentative smile. “What are you going to do now? Things are bound to get really weird, aren’t they?”

Lizzie groaned; she hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “I don’t even know how to look Orion in the face at the moment; just imagine how awkward Quidditch practise is going to be from now on.”

“Well, I can’t complain too much about that tight-knit team of yours getting rattled,” Charlie winked jokingly in an attempt to cheer her up; he couldn’t stand Lizzie looking so miserable. “Maybe that’s exactly the advantage we need against you in the final.”

He knew immediately his joke had been misplaced when he saw the incredulity forming on Lizzie’s face.

“Good to hear at least someone knows how profit from my heartache,” she hissed at him. Her eyes had narrowed dangerously and her whole posture was suddenly tense. Where she had been downcast but still relaxed before, she now radiated an angry, aggressive energy.

“Woah, hold on, it was only a joke.” Charlie raised his hands defensively but Lizzie continued glaring at him.

“It’s not a joke to me!” she exclaimed, her raised voice scaring the Bowtruckles further into their trees in a scurry. Her eyes were flashing furiously; all the frustration and suppressed anger at herself, Rowan and the whole situation was breaking it’s way at Charlie’s expense.

Charlie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s even going on? I thought you said you were alright?”

“I am alright!” she shot back immediately. “The only thing not alright is you being perfectly happy about this shipwreck of a situation.”

Before he could stop himself, a disbelieving laugh escaped his mouth; Lizzie’s accusation was too absurd. “What in Godric’s name are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?”

But Lizzie was working herself into a rage. “Oh, come on Charlie,” she huffed, “both of us know you don’t like Orion and never have. But now you don’t have to worry anymore, nothing is going change any time soon; you’ll have me all to yourself.”

“Stop being so full of yourself, girl; arrogance doesn’t suit you much. This is not true and you know it.”

He had never seen Lizzie so livid before. He regretted having made his joke in the first place, but her aggressive tone was starting to make him angry as well.

“Is it?” she sneered. “That’s exactly the reason why I didn’t tell you anything in the first place. I knew you’d never understand, all you care about is us playing with magical creatures for the rest of our school years. But that’s not how it goes, Charlie; things are changing, people are changing!”

Her words hurt him more than she could possibly know. “All I ever did was support you and set your head straight when you needed it,” he responded through clenched teeth.

“Yes, tell that to yourself,” she snorted dismissively. “I thought you were my friend, but instead of showing a bit of compassion, you have nothing better to do than to make fun of me, while everything actually suits you perfectly!”

He felt his face go red at her accusation. “I can’t believe you’re saying that! As if I’d ever be capable of playing you like that; you’re my best friend!”

His voice had grown considerably louder as well; they were facing each other now, both of their eyes shooting daggers. Charlie couldn’t remember a single time he and Lizzie had screamed at each other.

Now, as she was looking him up and down, her beautiful face twisted into an angry sneer, he almost shuddered at the coldness in her eyes. “Your best friend, huh? I’m not so sure about that one right now.”

Charlie had heard enough. “You know what, Lizzie? Maybe you’re right, maybe people are changing. I feel like I don’t know you anymore these days.”

She flinched at hearing her actual name out of his mouth; Charlie almost never called her anything but affectionate nicknames.

He gathered his bag from the ground and slung it over his shoulder in a furious motion, not even trying to conceal his hurt and disappointment anymore.

“You have changed a lot this year, but certainly not for the better. You want to get rid of these rumours?” He barked a humourless laugh that echoed back from the dark trees. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure people won’t see us together anymore.”

With that, he pushed past her and left her standing alone amongst the scared looking Bowtruckles.

Lizzie immediately regretted lashing out at him, all of her anger blowing out in an instant. The hurt in Charlie’s voice was palpable, every word feeling like a slap to her face. It was bringing her back to her senses.

“Charlie, wait!”

But he was already rounding the corner of the path leading back to the castle without so much as looking back at her.

She wanted to run after him and apologise, but she knew it would have been pointless. There was no use in arguing with Charlie when he was angry; he needed time to cool off first before she had a chance to get through to him again.

Lizzie stared at the bend in the path where he had vanished out of her sight. Charlie had been the only one of her friends who had stuck with her all the time, not even judging her once, and she had nothing better to do than let her frustration out on him.

Feeling suddenly deflated, Lizzie leaned against the nearest Wiggentree and closed her eyes. If it wasn’t for the pain still gnawing at her head, she would have been convinced all of this was nothing but a nightmare. But she knew she wouldn’t wake up out of this one.

When she felt a slight tickling against her cheek, she opened her eyes again and looked down to find one of the Bowtruckles had climbed from his branch onto her shoulder. It was raking its long, spindly fingers against her face and looked at her curiously, probably hoping for a little snack.

Lizzie held her hand out and the little creature started climbing it, wandering up her arm onto her other shoulder. She watched it absentmindedly as she thought about how many of her friends she had managed to disappoint in less than a full day.

She had betrayed Rowan’s trust; she had turned away from Orion without even giving him a say in the matter; she had ignored all of Skye’s warnings and probably plunged their team into disarray; and now she had deeply hurt Charlie by unfairly questioning his motives.

Lizzie buried her hand deep in her pockets after she had set the Bowtruckle back onto its branch and reluctantly turned her steps back towards the school.

Her eyes being firmly fixed onto the ground, she tried to ignore the scattered groups of students enjoying the beautiful weather as she was nearing the castle gates. On a normal day, she would have been among them, enjoying some downtime with her friends, eagerly looking forward to their final match in pursuit of the Cup. She couldn’t have felt further from this normality she craved like nothing else.

All of a sudden, she felt very alone.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #charlie weasley #lizzie jameson #skye parkin #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad

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aspenflower17 · 4 years

Text

Finding You (Part Fifteen of ??)

Goodness gracious, I’m back, and excited to be here. I just had the weirdest two weeks, so I apologize about not updating last week. Luckily, I just stayed home today and was able to write most of this chapter. Here is a link for anyone who’s new and wants to start over at the beginning: Part One.

A couple notes: I totally forgot I wanted to add a dream sequence to part fourteen, so I added it first thing in this update. It is a rewrite of part of Satan’s “The Search of Self” Devilgram so there might be some spoilers. I also missed you all so much! Honestly, I’ve been feeling kinda down lately and haven’t even had much motivation to play Obey Me (or do much of anything), so being able to hang out on Tumblr today and see all the posts has helped me get some of my inspiration back! I also bought a Chromebook and I'm still getting used to it. If the formatting goes weird, please let me know so I can fix it.

Tags for the beauties: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @mammonismyfirstman

Word Count: 3293

Warnings: Possible spoilers for the first season (though I think I’ve had some before so...), spoilers for Satan’s “The Search for Self” Devilgram story (it’s not the full story and I added a lot)

Mc followed Satan to a fairly large building. Satan, still so weird to say, had asked her if she wanted to go around the Devildom with him. The letters above the door were illegible, seeing as how the Devildom had their own language and alphabet, but she instantly knew where they were when they walked in, “You took me to an art gallery?!”

“Oh, seems like I made a good choice,” Satan looked a tad shocked, but then smiled, “I like to come here to get away from stuff and clear my head.”

“So, are these like human art galleries?” Mc asked.

“I think so? Naturally, they have older, historically significant paintings, but they also exhibit pieces created by young, up-and-coming artists. And they’re always holding interesting events. It’s a lot of fun… Are you interested in art, Mc?”

“Yeah, I am,” Mc answered.

“Ah, is that so? I’ve got a feeling you and I might get along, then. I really love art.”

Mc felt her heart thill at his words. She’d been interested in the blonde fourth-born the second she’d seen him, and her interest seemed to be well founded.

Satan continued on about why he loved art, and though there was brand new art for her to look at, all she could do was hang watch Satan and hang onto his every word. He wasn’t saying anything she herself didn’t think, but just being here with him was giving her butterflies.

“... If you’re nervous about coming here alone, then say the word, and I’ll join you anytime.”

“Ah, that’s so nice of you. Now that I know this place exists, I’m definitely going to need to visit often.”

“You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” he was watching her, eyebrow quirked, but with a soft smile.

“Of course! Not only do I have a whole new history to learn about, but there’s even new art!”

Satan chuckled, “Well, I’m glad you’re actually interested in art. It really is important not to focus only on your outward appearance like Asmo, because the person you are on the inside has a way of showing through on the outside as well.”

“I agree. Too many people’s beauty is only skin deep.”

“Exactly. Incidentally, it looks like they’re having a contemporary art exhibit here today. Shall we go check it out?”

“Definitely. I hope demon modern art is better than, “Four Blue Squares on Canvas”.”

“Wait… Really?”

“Yup. It’s a real art piece I saw in my University’s art museum.”

“So, was it really…”

“Just four blue squares on a white canvas, all equidistant from each other.”

Satan blinked a couple times, “Well, I hope ours is better too.”

They entered an exhibit space. Mc found herself a little disappointed, as she saw some of the same stange, abstract, postmodern art she would’ve seen at a human art gallery. Satan noticed the change and hurried to explain, “This is the human art wing. Many of the “lost” art pieces you’ve heard about can be found in collections here in the Devildom or in some of our galleries. This gallery is curated by Lord Diavolo, as advised by Barabatos, Lucifer and myself. Right now I believe this collection was put together by Lucifer.”

“Ah. That makes sense,” Mc stated, lips pursed as she looked around, making Satan laugh.

The duo continued through the gallery, Mc stopping every-so-often to examine a piece that caught her eye. Satan knew the artist’s name and the medium of almost every piece, though there were a few that were new to him too.

“Check out this work here. The use of color is so novel, so original. It’s very eye catching.”

Mc leaned down to read the museum label, “You know, that reddish color really reminds me of… Oh…”

“Human blood? Yeah, I thought as much. Though the smell had been dampened, probably diluted with water, it’s still unmistakable,” Satan answered absentmindedly. Finally seeing Mc’s discomfort, he quickly tried to backpedal, “I’m sorry. I forgot human noses aren’t as... sensitive as demons. This artist makes pieces that stimulate multiple senses. She’s an acquaintance of mine. This piece in particular incorporates the blood of… Seven distinct creatures, demons included.”

“Oh… Which one is the demon blood?”

“The black. If I’m not mistaken, she used her own blood for this piece,” Mc nodded, the art more macabre than she’d originally thought, “Well, there’s a lot more to see than just this. Let’s see, what’s over here in this space?” They walked through an archway into a room that held a huge installation. A lot of strange items filled the room, some on pedestals, or the ground, while others hung from near translucent strings from the ceiling. The lighting in the room was generally low, specific spotlights or illumination obviously very strategically placed. A low glow on the floor marked a pathway that allowed the viewer to wander around the room.

“Wow! Now this is very interesting,” Satan breathed, eyes glittering, “See? Check it out. At first glance it looks like a bunch of random stuff scattered all over the place, doesn’t it? But actually, every piece of rope, string and crumpled paper has been arranged very meticulously. It actually depicts a war between a dragon and an army of angels. If you want proof, look at it from the side. It looks as if the dragon is over powering the army. Buuuut,” Satan continued excitedly rushing over to the other side of the room, “When you look from this other angel here, it seems the angels have the upper hand.”

“Interesting, because, from where I’m standing, I can see Earth.”

“Wait, really?” Satan moved to where Mc was and bent down so he could view it from her height, “Would you look at that. I don’t think I ever would’ve seen that. How interesting… Very nice find,” he complimented, his smile, words and proximity making Mc’s cheeks heat up.

They spent some more time in the room, though they didn’t find any other secrets. They both vowed to come back however to search some more. They then spent more time in the gallery before Satan suggested they head out to get some refreshments at a new cafe in the Devildom.

“Thank you for that Satan,” Mc grinned, “That was some much needed mental refreshment.”

“No, thank you Mc. It can be difficult to get any of my brothers to spend time with me in a manner that I enjoy, and even harder still for them not to annoy me in the process, so I usually end up going around on my own. It was invigorating having someone with me who also appreciates art,” He grinned at her again, making her heart flutter. She could definitely get used to spending time with the Avatar of Wrath.

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Mc blinked awake. That was the second dream she’d had that seemed more than just a dream. She could still remember the first in clear detail, though her dreams usually started fading once she woke up. The only other time she’d experienced something like this was her memory of being a Wanderer. But… This couldn’t possibly be like that. That was a memory, and these were just the result of finally being able to talk to and spend time with the demon she’d admired for so long… Right? She shook her head, the large questions the dreams brought up already giving her a headache. She grabbed her DDD blinking at the light it gave off. After her eyes adjusted she saw a new message alert. Opening it she smiled. Seems like he'd finally opened up her letter

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“Dude, just read it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Belphie sighed and got up, grabbing the letter off of the kitchen counter.

“What are you doing?” Satan asked.

“Well, if you’re not going to open it, I will. I can’t believe you didn’t read and respond to it that night. Honestly, you’re one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom and you can’t even-” he was cut off by Satan grabbing the letter from him, the seal already halfway broken.

“I will open it myself, thank you.”

“Then do it,” Belphie said, unaffected by Satan’s anger.

Satan narrowed his eyes, and turned back to the letter in his hands. Logically, he understood why he was nervous, and usually knowing the why behind a feeling would help him get it under control, but that had never worked with any feelings toward Mc. He had hoped this time around would be different, and he was almost more nervous than before. There seemed to be so much more riding on her returned affection than before. Cautiously, he broke the rest of the seal on the envelope, and pulled the letter out/

Dear Satan,

I would love to get coffee with you sometime! If I can be even half as engaging as last time, I’ll consider it a job well done. To help us plan that and talk more easily in the future, I included my number ;) Once you text me, I have a secret to share with you.

Satan blinked a couple times. He turned the letter over to see if she’d written anything on the back. No such luck. Was that really all she’d written?

“Forever the tease I see.”

“... Did you just read that over my shoulder?”

“Well, when you delay as much as you did, and then have that kind of reaction, who wouldn’t? Anyway, you should text her.”

“I… Yes, you’re right. I definitely should,” Satan said grabbing his DDD. He opened the messaging app, typed in her number and… just sat there.

“You good?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah. I’m just not sure how to start the-”

He was cut off by Belphie grabbing his DDD, typing something, and then tossing it back to him, “There you go. I’m going to go sleep now. It’s way past my bedtime.”

“Wait, what did you even-”

“Night,” Belphie called from the doorway before walking out.

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Satan was reading when his DDD meowed that he had a message. He almost threw the book he was reading into the air as he lunged for his DDD which was on the table next to him. He didn’t even have time to be embarrassed at his over-the-top-reaction.

Satan: A secret?

Mc: Yes :D

My name is not Jane Doe, though

I’m sure you’ve already

surmised that much

Satan: I thought as much, though it really isan ingenious alias.

Mc: Thank you! I thought so too

Satan: So… Do I get to know what you’re

real name is?

Mc: Hmmm… What if I want to go get

that coffee with you before

I divulge that information?

Satan: We’ll just have to go get that coffee then.

Mc:

When?

Satan: Whenever you’d like. I am free today.

Only if you want though.

Mc: Okay! Shall we say… 16:00?

Satan: As long as there’s no last minute RAD Student Council meetings called, that should be perfect

Mc: Well, if there is, I’ll just have to come

tell everyone you already made plans.

I’ve been meaning to visit RAD anyway.

Satan:

Oh how I’d love to see Lucifer’s reaction

to that.

Mc:

Satan: Wait… Shouldn’t you be asleep right now?

It’s rather late.

Mc: I was asleep, but…

Satan: Bad dream?

Mc: No actually. Quite the opposite.

I just can’t stop thinking now.

Satan: Ah. I understand that.

Anything I can do to help?

Mc: Would you talk to me a bit longer? Maybe tell me about thelatest book you’ve been reading?

Satan: Of course.

Though he wished Mc would talk to him about what was bothering her, he figured this was probably the better option. They hadn’t met many times, and prying might upset her. So, he simply started telling her the basic plot of the new novel he’d picked up. Eventually, she stopped responding, and the messages stopped being shown as read. Satan smiled at that, texted her good night, and snuggled down into bed himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry!” Mc’s voice brought Satan out of the book of poetry he’d been reading, “Not only did I fall asleep while texting you last night, but then I was late today and I set the meetup time? Ugh, I feel so bad and I’m so sorry!”

“You’re alright,” Satan smiled, not wanting to acknowledge how much anxiety had been eased up by her appearing.

“I woke up late, and I dropped my DDD bad enough that we have to get a new one all together, and then Michael was asking me about native Devildom fabrics and if he should get a new outfit made in one… It’s just been a day so far.”

“Like, I said, it’s all okay. I’m sure you would’ve messaged me if you could.”

“I would’ve. I still feel bad… But thank you for being okay with it,” the look of anxiety to joy that she gave him made every second he’d spent waiting worth it.

“O-Of course,” he got out.

“So, what were you reading?”

“A collection of Arabic love poems.”

“Ah, “... When I love, / I become liquid light,” and “... If the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent,” Mc sighed, resting her chin on her hand. Then, as if remembering her current company and current residence, she shot up, “Sorry! I just really love that line.”

Satan laughed, and then said a quote of his own, “My lips and fingers were pens on her flesh. / I memorized her in every alphabet and memorized my memories until they multiplied…”

“I look at you and I dream of snow, I look at you and I await autumn…”

“My temptations in your eyes, And the cities of your grief,” Satan quoted just then realizing they were both leaning in towards each other. He leaned back a bit abruptly and cleared his throat, “Anyway, I really enjoy Adonis’ work.”

“Me too,” Mc answered, leaning back as well. Fortunately, a waiter came up to them to take their order, helping resolve the awkward air his sudden retreat had created. He tried to collect his thoughts as she ordered. He could only think of one thing to talk about though.

“So… Your name is not Jane Doe.”

“Nope.”

“So... What is it?” Didn’t they have this conversation last night?

Mc looked disappointed for a second, but then she was back to normal, “It’s Mc.”

“Really? That’s a lovely name.”

She looked up, eyes measuring him, “You think so?”

“Of course! It suits you really well,” Satan said.

“Well, there’s actually an interesting story behind that. Usually when an angel becomes an angel, they receive a new name. Back in the past, they used to allow them the choice between their new name and their old one. This resulted in too many angels remembering their human life, so they stopped allowing it. I’m the first angel in quite some time to keep the same name as I had in life.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Apparently Sim and Luke were insistent on it. Luke didn’t have a ton of clout upstairs at the time, but Sim does. I promised I wouldn’t question them too much about my human life.”

“They were huh? That’s interesting…”

“Why?”

“Oh, uhhh… Just general curiosity. I’ve been trying to pin down what kind of person Simeon is since the first exchange program,” Satan scrambled, actually managing to sound convincing.

Mc just hesitated and then nodded, not keeping eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous that I’ll make a fool of myself and ruin this time like I have the other times we’ve talked,” Satan confessed in Latin, his brain still on the last language he had been reading. Saying the things that had been bothering him started when he became more comfortable around Mc the first time around. He found saying the things on his mind out loud usually released much of his nervous energy, helped him understand what and how he was feeling without doing things to make Mc uncomfortable, even if she hadn’t understood most of what he’d said. It had become something they had shared, causing her to work hard to learn other languages so she could catch the little embarrassing things he said.

Mc gave him a look before replying, “Well, you didn’t mess up last time.”

“Well, I-” Satan cut off when his brain caught up to his mouth. She had just responded. In perfect Latin. His brain flipped back to their discussion on Arabic poetry and he realized she had been quoting that in Arabic too, “I hadn’t realized… Of course you speak other languages.”

“I have to read it in its original tongue. Translations generally don’t do the original justice,” Satan was still trying to think of an appropriate response when Mc spoke again, “Question though: Why did you say that in Arabic?”

“I… I fell into that habit awhile ago.”

“I thought a lot of demons knew different languages.”

“Well, I don’t do this around other demons. I don’t care what most of them think of me…” Satan cut off as the waiter came back with their drinks.

Mc sat in thought for a second before realization dawned on her, “Oh, was it because of…” her face fell before she could continue her thought.

“Hmmm? Did you say something?”

“No, just a stray thought that slipped out.”

“Hmmm… Well, do you want to tell me more about yourself?”

“Only if you tell me more about yourself.”

“Sounds fair to me. We can trade off asking questions.”

“Okay,” Mc seemed very excited by the prospect, and Satan found it infectious. The questions were a bit stilted at first, but they slowly fell into a comfortable space. Though the answers Mc gave, it seemed she was the same person essentially, but a lot more educated, even more opinionated, and with a different upbringing. He found the fact her personality had remained intact very interesting as well as relieving. He found the fact she was now an angel not as terrible as he thought it’d be. Sure, she spoke about saving souls and bringing people to the light, but with what she’d done for him and his brothers, it seemed a perfect fit. He’d always known she was a really good person. At times it had almost made him try to give up on their relationship, not wanting to corrupt her, but also feeling it in his very nature too. Now however, he didn’t necessarily feel that for her. She was an angel and it took a lot to corrupt an angel. He didn’t feel any animosity towards her and found her to be a lot like Simeon in her regard to demons. He found himself thanking Simeon for keeping her intact. If they couldn’t give her back to me, this is probably the next best thing.

They were both surprised when Mc’s DDD rang, a call from Luke asking if she’d be back in time for dinner. While she was on the phone, Satan received a similar call from an annoyed Beel telling him it was time to come home. Lucifer wouldn’t let him eat until he’d gotten home. They both got off the phone at the same time.

“I… actually have to go. I hadn’t realized how late it’s gotten.”

“I didn’t either. I have to go as well. There’s a hungry Avatar of Gluttony at home and a stupid Avatar of Pride that won’t let him eat until I get back.”

“Well, I really had a good time tonight. We should do this again sometime.”

“I agree,” Satan smiled, “Today was amazing.”

Mc smiled and blushed a bit, “I’ll text you later then?”

“Definitely. Bye!”

Mc waved cutely and then started running off in the direction of the castle. Satan watched her until she was out of sight, smiling softly the whole time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, yeah. Arabic love poems make me live. I apologize if the translations are weird. I literally found them on a twitter post someone had posted on Tumblr. Here’s the link: https://twitter.com/rosewatwr/status/1292487129793208320?lang=en

Can we also take a moment to talk about how absurd it is that Satan, of all people, was having trouble eating properly with a knife and fork?! Are you kidding me?

Part Sixteen

#obey me #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me! swd #obey me belphie #aspenflower17 #finding you #obey me fluff #obey me angst #obey me mc #obey me satan/mc #obey me satan x mc #obey me long fic #obey me swd #can you guys believe it's part 15?!#also #there was a part I was going to add on that was pretty angsty and Read My Heart came on shuffle when I was writing it

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recollins · 4 years

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Baby Fever (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Request: Do u mind doing a fic where people from the team sees Spencer shopping for baby items (clothes, toys, etc) during different days and one time sees him shopping with his secret gf that they didnt know about and immediately jump to conclusions thinking they’re having a baby but in reality the reader’s sister is the one thats pregnant hahaha thanks and i love your stories! Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader Words: 4,930 Content: 100% pure fluff Warnings: None Masterlist

The headache you’d had all day just refused to go away. It would’ve been tolerable if you could’ve at least gone home at five, like planned. All day you’d been looking forward to dinner with Spencer, and of course your boss had practically forced you to stay late tonight to finish your reports early. Sure, it’d look great for your team, but at this point all you wanted was to eat reheated pizza in your pajamas with your adorable boyfriend while you binged Dr. Who until 1am again.

Was that really too much to ask?

When you got a new text from Spencer saying he’d just reached the store, you instantly dropped what you were doing and, after a quick look around to make sure your boss wasn’t nearby, you hit call.

“I have no idea what would be beneficial for Ashley,” Spencer told you the moment he answered. You could hear him rifling through books on the other end of the phone. You couldn’t help but grin hearing him practically fretting; he was taking his unofficially official assignment seriously.

“She’s a lot like you. She likes learning as much as she can. ,” you told him, smiling at your own words. It was another reason you were dying for them to meet.

The two of you had only been dating for a couple of months, but you’d fallen hard for the handsome genius and you wanted to show your sister exactly why you were so thankful you’d babysat for her that day. It was all thanks to her that you’d had your chance encounter with Spencer; without her, you never would’ve met.

You hadn’t even noticed the little boy running across the park until the dog at your side paused to watch him. As soon as he noticed the boy was headed for the two of you he gave an excited jump, scrambling forward to greet his visitor.

“Sit, Buck,” you told the golden retriever pulling at the leash. Your sister’s dog looked back at you, giving one of the most human pouts you’d ever seen, though he reluctantly plopped onto the grass.

The little boy paused a few feet of way, clearly having enormous difficulty not immediately hugging the dog he was after. He looked up at you with a pleading gaze, blinking his large blue eyes as he asked hopefully,

“Can I PLEASE pet your doggy?”

With a grin – glad to see he knew how to act with a stranger’s dog – you nodded and knelt down beside the dog ready to burst with excitement. “You sure can. He loves making new friends.”

The little boy gasped with excitement and eagerly moved closer, holding out his hand. Buck squirmed forward and bumped his head into the little boys palm, and all hesitancy was out the window. The boy laughed and threw his arms around Buck, and the golden retriever instantly began licking him, wagging so hard he nearly knocked himself over.

“I’m Henry,” the little boy announced to you, eagerly petting as much of the dog as he could reach.

“Hi Henry. I’m Y/N, and this is Buck,”

“Hi Buck!” he laughed, nearly falling over as the dog reacted to his name with even more wiggles. Laughing yourself, you reached out and gently steadied Henry just as a new person came rushing your small group.

“Henry!” the man called out, and the little boy glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve told you not to run off like that!”

Instantly you were lost to studying the piece of art that had just graced you with his presence. He was tall, slim, and scruffy, a mess of chocolate curls framing his sharp jaw line and even sharper cheekbones. A light dusting of stubble framed his soft, pink lips and drew you even further into his hauntingly beautiful face.

“Uncle Spencer look! I made a friend!”

The man – Spencer – came up to Henry’s side and knelt down, keeping himself angled away from Buck as he studied the little boy, checking to make sure he was alright.

“Buck’s really friendly,” you felt the need to tell him, instantly recognizing he was very protective of the little boy. “I hope it’s alright that he pets him, I didn’t have it in me to keep them apart.”

Spencer’s face finally seemed to relax as he watched Henry and Buck together. “It’s alright. I’m sorry if we’re interfering with your day.”

“No, no. Not at all. This is a happy little pitstop on our way home,” you assured. You’d been watching Buck practically lick Henry to death, but when you glanced up at Spencer you saw he’d been watching you. Your gaze met for the first time and blinked in surprise, taken off-guard by the gorgeous caramel eyes staring into you.

Upon meeting your gaze his cheeks flushed beneath the scruff of his beard and he stammered out a quick, “t-that’s – that’s good. I’m glad.”

Normally you were shy and awkward around guys as gorgeous as Spencer, but today you felt emboldened. Maybe it was the crisp autumn wind that settled your nerves as you took a breath, or maybe it was the way his stunning gaze could hardly stay off of you. Either way, you gave him a soft smile and said,

“If it’s okay with you, I’m sure Buck would love having company around the rest of the park.”

Henry’s big blue eyes stretched impossibly wide and he tipped his head back. “Can we PLEASE walk with them, Uncle Spencer? PLEASE?!”

Spencer let out a laugh, and instantly you were lost to the gorgeous man in front of you. He pretended to think it over, though you caught the knowing smile he gave you over Henry’s head.

“Well, as long as Buck doesn’t mind.”

As if on cue, Buck gave an excited yip and licked Henry’s cheek. The three of you laughed and you all stood; Henry and Buck ran ahead, bumping into each other as they went. Spencer fell into step beside you and asked,

“I’m sorry. I know your dog’s name, but I never asked yours.”

You grinned and laughed, “that’s usually how it works, honestly. I’m Y/N. And I believe you’re Uncle Spencer?”

“Just Spencer,” he chuckled, smiling down at you bright enough to take your breath away. “It’s really nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Y/N?” Spencer prompted, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm?”

He chuckled, knowing your habit of losing yourself in your own mind every now and then. “I asked if you think she’d like a book about methods of childbirth. I’ve already read about half of it, it seems very informative.”

You snorted, instantly picturing your boyfriend in the heart of Barnes and Noble, speed-reading pregnancy books to find the best one. “I think she would. Maybe get a few for like, the baby’s first year, if they have it. To give her some variety, you know?” Spencer hmm’d but didn’t answer. “Spence, quit reading the book.”

“Sorry, this is fascinating. I read all about labor and delivery when JJ was pregnant with Henry, but I’d never explored home birthing in this depth. Did you know that on average, a woman’s –“

“Hold that possibly unnerving thought,” you giggled quietly, hearing the door of your boss’s office open. “I’ve gotta go. I trust your book-buying judgement, since you’re the expert in that field. Get whatever you think she’ll like.”

“Okay. I’ll come over when you get home and show you what I’ve got. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

“Sounds good, baby. See you soon.”

David Rossi wasn’t one to frequent Barnes and Noble at nearly 8pm on a Friday night. Truth be told, he was only stopping in to check how well his books had been selling locally. He’d personally brought in a box of his latest release, and so what if he wanted a little ego boost?

He’d wandered to the back of the store, going straight for the True Crime section, when an all-too-familiar voice caught his attention.

“Okay. I’ll come over when you get home and show you what I’ve got. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

Rossi did a full stop, slowly backing up to the aisle he’d just passed. Sure enough, Reid was standing in the middle of the Parenting & Family section, two maternity books tucked under his arm as he read through a third.

As he hung up the phone, Rossi watched him furrow his brow, lost in deep thought as he plucked another book off the shelf. As Rossi slowly approached, he caught the title of the new book he’d grabbed: The New Father: A Dad’s Guide to the First Year.

“Uh, Spencer?”

Reid froze, whipping around so fast he nearly fell, dropping the book in his hand. His wide, stricken gaze locked onto Rossi and for several moments neither of them spoke. Slowly, Rossi knelt and grabbed the book, holding it out to him. Just as slow, Reid took it and tucked it to his chest.

“I… didn’t know you came to Barnes and Noble,” was all he managed. Rossi raised his brows and said pointedly,

“Though I’m sure you practically live here, I wasn’t expecting you to be in this section.” Reid gave a pained blink. “Is there… something you’d like to tell me?”

“What?” he barked out, giving a nervous laugh. “W-what? No. No, there – there’s nothing to – no.”

“Right,” Rossi drawled, eyeing the very panicked young man as he slowly backed out of the aisle, pointing to his left. “I’m just gonna…”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s – I’m gonna – I’m gonna go.”

The moment Rossi was out of his way, Reid took off out of the aisle, all but sprinting to the front to check out. The moment he was out of earshot, Rossi was dialing the first number he could think of.

“This is Hotchner –“

“Aaron. You’re never going to believe this.”

Hotch strolled a few paces behind Jack, smiling as he watched his son scamper up and down the toy aisle, hunting for the perfect prize. He’d just gotten recognized as the top student in his class and he’d wanted to reward Jack for all his hard work.

He wasn’t surprised his son was taking his toy-picking very seriously. Jack was so much like himself in that way; he’d even asked Hotch for his professional opinion twice.

“I think I do want the lightsaber,” Jack huffed, setting down the Captain America figure he’d been on the fence about. His son glanced back at him and Hotch put on his most serious face, nodding intently.

“You can never have too many lightsabers. Do you want to look at it again?”

Jack nodded eagerly and took off for the other aisle. As tedious as toy shopping could be, he loved every moment of simple fun like this he got to spend with his son. As he got closer to the aisle Jack was in, a voice he hadn’t been expecting drifted towards him.

“Lamaze toys like this one are excellent to use during tummy time. That’s very important in a baby’s development.”

Was that Reid? Talking about baby toys? Hotch’s mind instantly went to the discussion he and Rossi had been having the last few weeks. He’d found it hard to believe Spencer Reid was buying baby books, and had thought it was just a misunderstanding…

“It’s never too early to start encouraging the development of motor skills, either. This one would certainly help… it DOES rattle, which I admit could become aggravating hearing it days on end… oh! Have you already gotten a playmat? This one is meant to adapt with the child as they grow…”

Hotch had to see this to believe it. One eye on Jack, he backed up to the end of the aisle and peeked around. Sure enough, Reid was parked in front of the baby toys, several piled in the cart at his side as he studied a surprisingly large box. He had a phone perched on his shoulder and a huge smile he hadn’t seen in quite some time.

“If you don’t like this one, we can always take it back. I think it’ll be very beneficial for the baby,” Reid declared, setting the box in the cart. As he looked up and met Hotch’s eye, he nearly dropped his phone. “I – I’ve got to go. I – yes, I’m fine. I’ll call you later.”

He hung up fast and opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a noise of distress.

“Reid… what are you doing?”

“I – I’m shopping.”

Hotch gave him an unamused frown. “I gathered as much. I meant what are you –“

“Dad, hey dad!” Jack called from behind him, and on instinct Hotch looked back to his son. “Look at this lightsaber!”

“That’s really cool, buddy,” Hotch smiled quickly as he turned back to Reid. “What are you –“

All Hotch saw was Reid skidding out of sight at the other end of the aisle, converse squeaking in his wake.

“Okay, what about this?”

Emily held up a box as Penelope and Morgan turned to study what she’d found. Penelope hmm’d and tapped her chin but Morgan instantly shook his head.

“A revolving tie rack? That’s as tacky as you get, Prentiss.”

“What? No way! The man has a lot of ties –“

“And he also lives in a mansion,” Morgan cut in with a snort. “I don’t think he has a problem findin’ a place to put ‘em.”

With a groan, Emily tossed the box back onto the shelf and ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “Why is Rossi so impossible to buy for?”

“Why are you two so bad at picking out gifts?” Penelope countered, and the two of them rounded on her. “What?!”

“You haven’t found him anything either,” Morgan pointed out, and Penelope planted her hands on her hips, fixing him with a pointed look.

“I’m not the hot-shot profiler here. I brought you two so you could use your mind-reading powers to figure out what he’d like. If I wanted to wander around Bed Bath & Beyond for an hour with nothing to show for it I would’ve just gone by myself!”

Morgan scoffed, clearly affronted. “Well it ain’t my fault you two nixed the golf bag organizer –“

“Does Rossi even golf?!” Emily snapped at him as the three started for another section of the store. As Morgan went to answer, Penelope cut into their argument with a very surprised,

“Is that Reid?”

The other two paused and followed her line of sight to the unmistakable curly-haired doctor standing in the family section, observing a stroller with a beautiful woman at his side. He was studying it intently, and the woman was watching him with pure affection.

The three of them shared a wordless, gaping stare before they started towards the two of them.

“I’m not sure. This isn’t one of the brands I researched.”

The woman shrugged and offered, “no, but it had decent reviews, and it’s less than the others with the coupon I’ve got. I can get this one right out and not have to put it on my credit card.”

“Sweetheart, I told you I’d get this. Price doesn’t matter. I want to get the best.”

Penelope and Emily looked at each other, mouthing together sweetheart!?

“No, absolutely not,” the woman objected, crossing her arms and giving Reid a frown. He went to argue and she pointed out, “You’ve bought everything else so far. I’m getting this one.”

“Let’s at least look at the other one I saw online,” he offered. “I feel more comfortable with a brand I’m familiar with.”

The woman gave him a sweet smile, giving his arm a squeeze. “Fine. Let me go find that one. I’ll be right back.”

As she slipped down an aisle, Reid turned back to observing the stroller. As he moved around it to look at the front, he caught the movement of the others approaching and looked up. He locked eyes with Morgan and just stared at the three of them as he said in total disbelief,

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Rossi and Hotch said you had a little baby fever goin’ on but I didn’t believe ‘em,” Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “Good of you to prove me wrong on that, pretty boy.”

“I certainly don’t have baby fever –“

“A stroller is a pretty interesting thing to buy if you don’t,” Emily pointed out; Reid’s cheeks turned a bright pink.

“It’s not – this isn’t what it looks like –“

“I for one am personally and completely offended that you clearly have something huge you haven’t told any of us,” Penelope cut in haughtily. Reid turned to her now, trying desperately to explain,

“You guys, really, I’m not –“

“Hey, Spencer?” the woman called from further down the aisle. “Can you help me grab this?”

Reid made to head towards her and the three of them followed. He jammed a finger at the group and shook his head. “No. No, we’re not doing this right now –“

“Oh, we’re doin’ this. It’s happenin’,” Morgan assured, actually rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “I’m ready to meet your baby mama.”

“What?!” Reid actually squeaked, eyes widening. “No! She’s – she’s not –“

“Baby?” she called again. Reid’s face was almost more red than his sweater.

“Yeah, I – I’m coming. Hold on.” To the other three, he practically begged, “just – just stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Morgan, Emily, and Penelope shared bemused looks, but they stayed put as Reid scrambled to rush after the woman. Emily was the first to whisper,

“Did you have any idea he was even dating?”

Morgan shook his head, small smile on my face. “Nah. I mean, I knew somethin’ was up. Kid’s been a lot happier the last few months. But I didn’t know he had a lady.”

“Or a baby on the way,” Penelope hissed, looking genuinely hurt. “I can’t believe he’d hide a girlfriend and a pregnancy from us!”

“I mean, it’s his life, Garcia,” Emily soothed, resting a hand on her friend’s arm. “We know Reid’s more reserved, and this is probably a big change for him. Keeping it quiet is probably easier for him right now.”

“I know, I just – I like to spoil. I want to buy cute baby things and dote on his pregnant girlfriend!” she whined. As Penelope and Emily went back and forth, Morgan kept his eyes on the aisle Reid had disappeared down. He didn’t hear either of them talking, let alone any noises from the aisle. Slowly, he started to creep forward.

“He told us to wait,” Emily began, and Morgan waved her off.

“I just wanna see…” he muttered as he leaned around the corner.

The aisle was empty. He spun to tell the other two just as he caught sight of Reid across the store, rushing out the door with the woman in tow. Both of them were giggling, looking pleased they’d given the others the slip.

“Alright, pretty boy,” Morgan chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “That was pretty slick. I’ll give you that.”

Spencer’s hand held yours tight as the two of you strolled through Target, headed for the children’s section. Your sister’s baby shower was that weekend, and you wanted to get just a few more things for her.

With her husband deployed overseas, you’d taken it upon yourself to make sure she’d had everything she needed when your niece arrived in just a few short weeks. Spencer, you were more than happy to say, was completely on board.

Honestly, he was almost more invested than you were with everything. He’d spent weeks researching the best stroller to get, and last weekend the two of you had spent your entire Saturday helping her assemble the crib and dresser she’d bought. Your sister absolutely loved him, and you had to admit you were already starting to feel the same way.

Maybe it was too soon to love Spencer, but how could you not? He’d been spending the little free time he had away from work with you, helping you take care of your sister like she was family to him.

“Does she have a winter jacket?” Spencer asked you as you reached the baby clothes, eyeing a display of fuzzy pink coats.

“I don’t remember seeing one. It wouldn’t hurt,” you admitted, and that was all Spencer needed to hear. He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles before letting go and hurrying off to pick out a coat.

Grinning to yourself, you watched him for a heartbeat before you turned to scour the racks of adorable onesies up ahead. Shopping for your niece was always a fun time with Spencer that left you feeling happier than you ever remembered being. Hell, even last week’s adventure at Bed Bath & Beyond had been amusing.

He’d practically scooped you up in his arms as he ran down the aisle you’d been in, whispering desperately that some of his team had shown up and the two of you had to make a quick escape. He’d felt terrible, sneaking you out like he did, but you understood. He’d told you when you first started dating that he wanted to wait a bit before introducing you to his team.

Well, more accurately, his family. It was a big step for him, he’d explained, and it wasn’t something he wanted to rush. Plus, apparently his team could be a little overbearing, and he’d wanted to spare you from their unyielding curiosity for the time being. You’d both agreed that you’d wait until after the baby shower so at least your family chaos could settle before he tossed you into his own.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the other woman browsing the racks until you bumped into her. Both of you made noises of surprise and you instantly reached out to steady her.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention,” you said quickly, and she gave you a warm smile, shaking her head.

“Oh no, that was all me. I never look where I’m going.”

“Sounds like we’re both a little clumsy,” you laughed, and took in the handful of clothes she had. “Oh, you’ve got a little boy?”

“Two of them, actually,” she confirmed. “My youngest is just a couple months old.”

She pointed across the baby section to a tall, dark-haired man rocking an adorable baby in his arms. “That’s my husband and my youngest. My other son is –“

The little blonde boy from the park poked his head around one of the racks and you stared at him in surprise. His big blue eyes locked onto you, and recognition lit up his gaze.

“Oh, hi Henry!” The woman looked positively alarmed that you knew her son’s name, and more so that he recognized you in return

“Hi!” he said excitedly, rushing forward and looking around. “Is Buck here? Momma, she has a dog named Buck!”

“The big yellow dog from the park,” the woman said slowly, and as she knelt and scooped her son up, the memory of that day hit you full-force. You knew exactly who this was. Petite blonde with a husband and two kid, Henry… that must mean…

“You’re JJ,” you said, just as surprised as she looked. The woman was on guard; of course she was. She worked for the FBI and you’d just greeted her son and told her you knew her name.

“I’m sorry, do we know you?” JJ asked cautiously, and you gave her an apologetic smile.

“No, um, not really. I’m so sorry, this is so rude of me. My name’s –“

“Y/N!” All three of you turned to stare at the man who’d just come around the corner. He was still looking down at the shirt in his hand – pink jacket tucked under his arm – and hadn’t noticed the situation. “What do you think of this one?”

He held up the shirt that said I Found My Prince and His Name is Daddy just as he looked up at you. The smile froze on his face as soon as he saw the woman at your side.

“Hi Uncle Spencer!” Henry chirped excitedly. Spencer’s face turned an instant shade of bright red as he quickly hid the shirt. JJ slowly looked between you and Spencer, her eyes widening with each pass.

“Uh, Spence? I need an explanation here,” she said, voice tight with disbelief. “I seriously thought everyone else was just joking about this but – but are you two – are you having –“

You and Spencer looked at each other in alarm and instantly you shook your head quickly. “No! Oh, no. We’re – I’m not – no.”

Spencer came up to your side, still blushing furiously as he told her quickly, “JJ, this is my girlfriend Y/N. We’re shopping for her sister’s baby shower.”

“I’m not pregnant,” you felt the need to add just for good measure. JJ slowly gave a nod, still looking completely caught off guard, so you offered up a meek, “um, it’s really nice to meet you.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were dating someone?” JJ asked him, sounding hurt. Spencer had told you JJ was his best friend, and you’d warned him she wouldn’t be happy he was hiding this side of him from her.

Spencer sighed heavily as he mumbled, “I just wanted some time to let everything settle. Y/N and I met unexpectedly and we were both caught off guard. We’ve been planning the baby shower and with everything else going on, I just wanted to wait a bit before introducing everyone.”

JJ pressed her lips together, but you could tell she wasn’t holding being upset. She just reached out and squeezed his arm. “I get it. Next time, though, you might want to be a little more up front with everyone. The rest of the team is convinced you’re having a baby with a mysterious stranger.”

Both you and Spencer giggled at that, and he gave you a sheepish smile. “Y/N warned me I was being a little too suspicious –“

“You practically carried me out of the store last week. Spencer. That’s more than a little suspicious.”

You and JJ laughed together as Spencer sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Please don’t tell everyone just yet,” he began. “I really did want to introduce you all properly in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s not really an option,” JJ sighed, giving him an apologetic smile. When Spencer went to argue, she added, “trust me, Spence. You’re gonna want me to stop Garcia. She’s still trying to decide between throwing you a surprise baby shower or strangling you in your sleep, and I wouldn’t put it past her to pull off both.”

Spencer actually grimaced and you just gave a laugh, shaking your head as an idea came to mind. You looked up at Spencer and offered, “What about this… my sister would love having more people around, and we’ve got plenty of room and food for a bigger crowd. Your team could come to the baby shower this weekend and we’ll settle all of this at once.”

Spencer smiled down at you in thankful surprise. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. My sister would love to meet everyone, and,” you added, giving a smile to Henry. “Buck would love to see his new friend again.”

Henry gave an excited gasp and turned to JJ. “Can we please go see Buck, momma?!”

JJ smiled between the two of you and gave a shrug.

“Count us in. Just between us, though, I’d call Garcia tonight and tell her before she really does make a move. I can’t guarantee what way she’ll swing, but you know she doesn’t like being kept in the dark about family matters.”

Spencer chuckled, nodding in agreement. His arm came around you as you two said goodbye to JJ and Henry – giving a wave towards Will – and you both waited until you watched them head down an aisle.

“I’m so sorry to spring that on you,” Spencer said immediately. “It was really great of you to invite the team, but I don’t want to put you out –“

“You’re not putting me out, baby,” you promised, turning in his hold to wrap your arms around his waist and pull him closer. “I really want to meet your team, and this is the perfect opportunity. Besides…” you tugged the cute shirt out of his hand and held it up, getting the blush back on his cheeks. “You’ve apparently convinced them all I’m pregnant so we need to set the story straight somehow.”

Spencer sighed, though a smile played over his lips as he hugged you to him, starting to lead you back the way he’d come from. “Come on. There were other clothes I wanted to show you. Does she need snow pants? She really shouldn’t be out in the cold that long, but if she is she should be protected…”

You listened to your boyfriend launch into statistics about children and cold weather as you let him drag you around the kids section. Both your arms were full of clothes by the end of the night, and at this point your sister wouldn’t have room in her house for all the things the two of you had bought.

It was the least you could do, though. You owed your sister the world, because thanks to her (and Buck), you’d found yours in Spencer Reid.

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