#(in her defense she was twelve at most it shocked her) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mandos-mind-trick · 1 year ago

Text

Cabur

Summary: Twelve years ago the animal representing your soulmate appeared in your home. You finally get to meet him when his battalion arrives to help defend your planet from the droid army.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, injuries, brief mention of animal injury but it's not serious, a bit of angst, reader is a BAMF but it doesn't really get shown cause I'm garbage at action scenes, some mentioned PTSD at the end.

A/N: Sooooo this may be my sign to stick to only writing for the Bad Batch boys cause this is garbage. Turns out I'm not good at writing other clones. Also I wrote the smut before eating breakfast so if it's entirely indecipherable please forgive me.

Also Mide is pronounced Mee-deh.

MASTERLIST

It’s become a sort of legend within the GAR.

The clone who rides into battle on the back of a Nexu.

It’s a bit ridiculous. He doesn’t ride the Nexu. But, they are never far from each other.

No one ever dares to ask.

Most of them already know.

The others are too scared.

The only one that had asked was the General, which was forgiven since he probably didn’t expect his second in command to be closely trailed by a Nexu when they met for the first time.

His soulmate link, Wolffe had explained to his General. One of the rarest, where each soulmate is accompanied by the animal that represents their soulmate. The Kaminoans had been rather shocked when shortly after he was taken from his growth chamber, a fully grown Nexu appeared in the room. The feline had been entirely tame, until the Kaminoans had tried to separate them because clones were not allowed to pursue their soulmates due to some of the early clones deserting for their soulmates.

Separation hadn’t worked, as the Nexu proceeded to rampage through the halls of Tipoca City until she was reunited with Wolffe. Only Wolffe could seem to control her, and so the Kaminoans begrudgingly allowed the Nexu to stay.

She learned quickly, coming to Wolffe’s defense even during training. It didn’t take long for Wolffe to teach her how to fight, and how to take down droids. She never hesitated, even after the war started, fearlessly following him into even the ugliest battles.

He had spent much of his free time thinking about his soulmate. They’re obviously a fierce fighter, given the predatory nature of Nexu. Strong and brave. He often wondered what kind of animal they have that represents him.

***

The last thing you had been expecting twelve years ago was a loth-wolf pup to show up in the middle of your home.

It had appeared out of nowhere, startling both you and your parents. You hadn’t known what it was at first, until a quick search had directed you to the supposedly extinct loth-wolf. Why it had appeared suddenly in your home...that was another quick search.

Your soulmate link.

You had always wondered what it might be, seeing as you had no mark or strange dreams, or any of the other typical links between soulmates. Developing this late, though, was confusing. You didn’t think much about it, though. Fate was not something to question. Everything would make sense eventually. Your people believed that fate drove every decision, every event in your life. Everything happens for a reason, all directed by fate’s design.

Already twice the size of a tooka, the pup grew quickly, outgrowing your parents hut. It grew big enough to ride within a couple years and you often did. When you moved into your own hut, you built it big enough to fit you and your wolf comfortably.

You often wondered about your soulmate. Who they are, what they’re doing, what kind of animal they have. You wonder how you’ll meet. Will they come here? Your people don’t leave your planet often. Aside from the few who show great prowess for politics and get sent to represent you in the senate, not many else leave. Your people prefer simple, quiet lives. Though you have technology, most of your food is grown or hunted, and your medicine is a practice that’s been passed down for generations.

You had thought perhaps you were meant to leave, that you would meet your soulmate somewhere else. Your strength, however, was not in politics. You were a natural fighter. So instead you stayed on the planet, defending your village and hunting to provide food. Maybe you weren’t meant to find your soulmate elsewhere. Perhaps your soulmate was in one of the other villages.

You think that, until the war starts.

Your planet is mostly untouched for two years. There was no strategic reasoning to invade your planet, other than simply being part of the Republic. It keeps your planet untouched, at least until the Separatists begin to get desperate.

Word reaches you one morning of a droid army approaching one of the neighboring villages. It had landed two days ago and it was slowly burning its way through village after village. They had already reached out to the Republic for assistance, but they were already stretched as it was.

You don’t give up hope.

You’re right not to.

Two days after the message had been sent, they arrived. The roar of gunships is loud as troops drop in at the next village over from yours. You were already there, preparing defenses for when the inevitable attack began. They’d already burned through the village to the North. You had scouted over the hill earlier, and had spotted the dust cloud kicked up by the army’s movements. Fighters from surrounding villages have gathered, but it’s not nearly enough.

The clones arrive like a blessing from the Maker.

You’re glad to see them, even if some of them stare and whisper as you pass. You know they’re not staring at you. They’re staring at your wolf. Loth-wolves are supposed to be extinct, so actually seeing one would be a bit shocking. Even more so, seeing one outside of Lothal.

You had been called to the village leader’s hut, which was being used for battle planning. The village leader had chosen you as her second in command, since you were one of the best fighters. You were also one of the few still alive that had seen battle before.

Not every village on the planet was as interested in peace as the others. One such village had decided to attack a neighboring village out of nothing but greed shortly before the galactic war started. Fighters from across the planet had been called to aid in the fight, and you had been one of them. The most battle you’d seen back then had been on hunting trips. Though you were skilled, you’d never actually fought before.

It had been terrifying, but you had quickly proved your skills and your ability to stay calm under pressure. You had made a name for yourself, and had carried that still to this day.

Most of the more experienced fighters had been sent ahead to try and aid other villages, but it had been fruitless. The droid army had wiped out both the fighters, and some innocent villagers caught in the crossfire.

This village had been evacuated, and it was going to be the last stand against the droid army. If they couldn’t be defeated, then the planet was lost. The arrival of the clones to aid you had renewed hope in the possibility of securing your planet and its safety once more. There would be a lot to do, a lot to rebuild after, but now there was hope you would get to do so.

You make your way towards the hut, your wolf running ahead. It’s strange, usually he never left your side unless you told him to. He had been acting strangely all day. You had blamed it on the nervous energy in the village, and the approaching army. Everyone had been a bit on edge, and being an animal, he could likely pick up on it more than anyone.

You hear a commotion as you approach the hut, finding your wolf cornering one of the clones. Your eyes widen, thinking the worst, and you hurry over. Some of the clones are laughing by the time you reach them, and you realize your wolf is licking this clone.

“Mide,” You pull on the fur at his neck to try and get him to stop. His tail is wagging, creating a breeze behind him. “Mide, stop.”

The hair at the back of your neck stands straight, a loud growl reaching your ears. You turn, eyes widening as you stare into four red eyes and a wide mouth full of sharp fangs.

You scramble back, the Nexu following you. You’ve never seen one in person before, only read about them. They’re not native to this planet, so how did this one get here? And why doesn’t anyone else seem afraid of it?

“Cabur.” The stern voice of the clone reaches your ears. “Cabur, stand down.”

The Nexu doesn’t respond, crouching as it prepares to pounce. Do you run? You can’t outrun a Nexu. Why isn’t anyone trying to help? Why isn’t Mide helping?

The Nexu pounces, knocking you off your feet. You close your eyes, preparing for those teeth to sink into your skin, rip away at your flesh until you bleed out.

Something wet and rough drags across your skin from your shoulder to the top of your head. Your eyes snap open in surprise. Is the Nexu...licking you?

It licks you again, leaving a wet, gooey trail along your skin.

“Easy, girl.” The clone pets its head, trying to nudge it back.

It steps back reluctantly, its own tail swishing back and forth as it watches you. A hand appears in your line of sight and you take it, the clone hauling you to your feet easily. You brush the dirt off, wiping the Nexu spit from your face.

“Sorry about her.” The clone says. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her today.”

“It’s alright. Mide has been weird all day too. He’s never run away from me like that before.” You stare up at him, taking in his face.

His face is stern, pinched a bit in focus. There’s a scar stretching from his forehead to his cheek, his eye having been replaced with a cybernetic one. He’s handsome, as you assume all the clones would be.

“Is she yours?” You ask, breaking the silence between you.

“It’s my soulmate link.” He says. “I’ve had her since I came out of my growth chamber.”

“Oh.” You say, blinking in surprise. “Mide’s also my soulmate link. Appeared about twelve years ago.”

“Really.” He says, giving you a strange look.

Before you can continue the conversation, the village leader and who you assume is the Jedi General approach you.

“I see you two have already met.” The Kel Dor says.

You glance at the clone for a moment as the village leader introduces you to General Plo Koon and Commander Wolffe.

“Come,” The General says. “We have much to discuss, and little time to do so.”

***

“What’s her name?” You ask as you and Commander Wolffe make your way into position. His Nexu is walking beside you, trotting along happily. Mide is walking beside Wolffe, looking perfectly content.

“Cabur.” Wolffe answers. “It’s Mando’a. It means guardian or protector.”

“Fitting name.” You say.

“She’s saved my life a few times.” He pats Mide’s side. “What about him?”

“Mide. He’s a mythical warrior who protected our people. He rode to war with the sigil of a wolf on his helmet.”

The corner of Wolffe’s mouth lifts. “Aptly named.”

You both stop, having reached the point you have to go separate ways. You mount Mide, looking down at Wolffe. “See you when the battle’s done?”

Wolffe nods, patting Mide’s neck. “Take care of her.”

Mide huffs out a breath, nodding his head just slightly as if agreeing. He would, even without having to be asked.

You know. Even without having to say anything you know. Just Mide’s reaction was enough to tell you. The link is so rare, and to have someone else with the same link suddenly appear on your planet like this...

It’s not just a coincidence.

Mide runs to your position, and you watch as the cloud of dust that the droid army was kicking up gets closer and closer, flashes of blue and red gradually disappearing as dust envelops the valley.

***

You’re covered in dirt, but you’re alive.

With the help of the clones, you had stopped the droid army from advancing much further, protecting the village. It had been a long battle, lasting into the night. The stars are out by the time you return to the village, weary after a long battle unlike any you’ve ever been in.

No squabble between villages will ever compare to that.

You had seen Wolffe shortly after your return to the village, nothing more than a passing glance across the fire as you’d helped both injured villagers and troopers. You’re both alive, you’re both alright. You had spotted Cabur slinking around the village, unharmed due to her training in fighting droids. Mide’s white fur is streaked with dirt, his feet and nose scratched from the droids, but he’s otherwise uninjured.

You’ll give him a big, juicy cut of meat later.

You’re cleaning the cut on his nose when you hear the footsteps approaching. Mide’s head lifts, ears perking and tail wagging as he sees who it is. Something brushes against your side, Cabur purring as she makes herself comfortable next to Mide. Wolffe approaches you, and you take a moment to look him over. His armor is streaked with dirt, but he’s otherwise uninjured.

“Good to see you.” You say, smiling softly.

He steps right up to you, gloved fingers grazing over the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“It’s just a scratch.” You say, skin tingling as his fingers continue to trail down your arm before dropping back to his side. “We’re not used to fighting droids.”

“You’re, uh...quite the fighter.” He says. “I think a Nexu was the perfect choice.”

Your cheeks warm a bit. You think the ferocious Nexu might be a bit of an exaggeration. It’s a compliment, though, that he thinks your skills are worthy of that representation. The loth-wolf is the perfect representation of him. He has the same dangerous gaze as Mide, the same fierce loyalty. The stern and serious battle-ready commander.

“Us clones...it’s forbidden for us to initiate the soulmate bond.” He says.

Your stomach clenches a bit at his words. You hadn’t even thought...you hadn’t even considered. You hadn’t had time to. Everything had been happening so quickly. You had never given consideration to the idea that your soulmate might not want you. Much less that he might have to reject you. All those daydreams, all those thoughts about what your life could be like with them...they’ve been nothing but fantasies and they might never be anything but.

“Most of us don’t agree.” He continues. “We all have an agreement not to say anything, not to report anything.”

“But...what if someone finds out?”

“We have to be careful so no one does.” He takes your hand, slipping something into it. “We’re preparing to leave. We already have our next orders.”

Your shoulders sink a bit. Of course they’re very busy. The war has been taking a turn. The attack against your planet is just proof of this. Having time with him right now is just another fantasy.

You walk with him to the gunships, taking your time as troopers load up around you. He turns, patting Mide on the nose as you reach one of the ships. Mide lets out a quiet whine, his ears falling.

You squat in front of Cabur, petting her head. “Take care of him, yeah?” She lets out a quiet sound, licking your cheek once more. You stand back up, facing Wolffe. “Come back? When the war’s over?”

He nods once and you stand up on your toes, kissing his cheek. He stares down at you long and hard for a moment before stepping away, sliding his helmet on. You watch as he boards the gunship, following it with your eyes as long as you can as it disappears into the sky.

You open your hand, looking down at what he’d slipped into it. A smile tugs at your lips as you stare at the item.

A comm device.

***

It’s been almost a year since the battle, since you met your soulmate. You’ve spoken as often as you can through the comm device, but for the last three months it’s been very quiet. You’ve gone stretches without speaking, but never this long.

You try not to worry.

The war had ended three months ago, around the time you had seemingly lost contact. You suppose with the restructuring of the Republic into the Empire and the sudden end to the war, things have gotten complicated for the clones. It could just be he hasn’t had a good time to step aside and secretly contact you. Despite your attempted reasoning, you can’t help but feel nervous about the sudden silence.

You’ve been keeping yourself busy helping the survivors from the destroyed villages resettle with other villages. While the army had been destroyed, the valley had become a wasteland of destroyed droids and the remnants from the battle. New huts were built and families integrated peacefully into new villages. The Senate had sent some relief, but it could only do so much. Homes could be rebuilt and crops replanted, but lives couldn’t be replaced.

You’ve buried far too many dead.

You try not to think your soulmate may be one of them.

He’s not. You know he’s not. You would have felt it. Mide would have died with him. Still, the thought haunts you. How easily he could be taken from you, and you barely got to know him.

Fate will make it work in the end. You try to remind yourself of that.

***

You’re out hunting when it happens.

Nearly four months since the end of the war, a year since you met your soulmate. You had been scouting the hills when you’d heard it. You’d moved your binocs to the sky, watching as a starfighter streaked across the sky like a smoking comet straight towards the trees just a few meters away.

The crash is loud, the trees shaking with the impact. Mide immediately takes off, darting into the trees. It’s not like him, still always sticking close to your side.

“Mide!” You call, immediately running after him.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. It couldn’t be...could it? You hadn’t seen any identifying markers on the ship, the smoke too dense around it to see. It could be anyone, or anything.

If it wasn’t, Mide wouldn’t have run off like that.

You duck into the undergrowth, following the path broken by your wolf. You freeze instinctively as a low growl reaches your ears. You know that growl.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Cabur?”

The Nexu steps out of the bushes, tail swishing as she looks at you. It’s her. You know it. You drop to a knee, patting her head as she greets you.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Mide breaks through the bushes, dragging a limp body with his teeth. He drags the body over to you, letting him go gently. Wolffe’s body lays limp on the ground. There’s charred marks on his armor, likely from the crash. You push him over onto his back, staring down at his helmet. You trace the markings with your fingers, the same markings you remember.

A sob threatens to tear from your lips as you slip your fingers under the edge of his helmet, tugging it off. You cup the back of his head, lowering it gently to the ground.

He’s unconscious but still breathing.

Mide lays next to Wolffe, looking at you sadly. Cabur nudges his foot, letting out a quiet whine. He’s injured, likely worse than it looks if he crashed a starfighter. You need to get him back to the village, and soon.

You’re sweating by the time you maneuver him onto Mide’s back, climbing on behind him. You hold him as Mide runs through the trees and back up the hill towards the village. Cabur keeps pace easily, miraculously mostly uninjured from the crash.

You guide Mide into your hut, easing Wolffe off his back and onto your bed. You begin the tedious process of removing his armor, figuring out how to get each piece off and carefully stacking it in the corner. You peel the body glove off next, revealing his chest covered in bruises.

You head to your kitchen, grabbing herbs and a bowl, beginning to mash them into a paste as you’ve done a hundred times. You mix a tonic as well, moving back to his side before spreading the mixture across his chest, making sure to cover each bruise. You place bandages over each spot, letting the herbs do their work. You cup his neck, lifting his head a bit to help him drink the tonic. You can feel it, the pulsing energy from where your fingers are pressed against the skin of his neck.

He’s really here, right in front of you. Crashed right out of the sky, practically into your lap.

Mide curls up on his blanket, Cabur making herself comfortable beside him. You sit by Wolffe’s side, tending to him as you let the medicine work its way through his body. You only leave to make dinner and feed the animals before you’re sitting back at his side.

You grab his pauldron, tracing the image of the wolf with your fingers. The grey paint around the edges is slightly worn, more than it had been the last time you’d seen him. It’s hard to believe he’s really here. After four months of nothing, no sign that he’s alive and alright, no word on what’s happening aside from what was broadcasted on the news...four months of thinking the worst.

You trace his face with your fingers, allowing yourself to feel him. He’s really here. He’s real.

You stay by his side through the night, changing out the herbs as they dry. You nap a few times, trusting the animals to alert you if something happens.

He begins to stir around sunrise. You’d been checking his wounds, already mostly healed. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder as he shifts, his eyes cracking open.

“It’s alright.” You say, tracing gentle circles on his skin with your thumb. “You’re safe.”

He breathes your name like a prayer, his eyes slipping closed for a moment as he relaxes.

“I’m here.” You whisper, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek. “I’ve got you.”

“I said I would.” He murmurs, turning his head to kiss your palm. “I said I’d come back.”

You shush him gently. “And you have.”

You get him sitting up, leaning against the wall. You feed him some soup after both Mide and Cabur greet him happily. He tells you about everything that happened since the war ended. He tells you about the Jedi and the inhibitor chips, deserting the Empire and getting his chip removed. He tells you about his fight to get here, and almost not making it.

You try not to think about it, relishing in the face he did make it. He is sitting here with you. You can see the pain in his eyes, the guilt. You can practically feel the sadness radiating from him. Your heart aches for him. He’s lost so much, and so much has changed so quickly. You can’t even imagine what it must have been like. What it must feel like for him.

You hold him, wrapping yourself around him. His bruises are almost completely healed, his strength returning as he holds you, his face pressed against your chest. Cabur creeps her way over, stretching herself out across your laps. Wolffe chuckles, patting her head. You tangle a hand on her fur, holding Wolffe with the other.

***

Wolffe settles into life in the village easily. He’s welcomed, not only as your soulmate, but also as a hero who helped save many lives. He accompanies you on hunts, learning as much about your culture as he can.

You settle into life with him easily too, adjusting to his presence like he’s been there the whole time. You’re glad your hut is on the edge of the village, as you’re both also rather insatiable. You have a year to make up for. A year of yearning and longing to make up for.

And you certainly do.

A body presses against yours as you finish loading the dishes in the sanitizer. You can feel him, every bit of his body through his thin shirt and soft pants. He’s softened a bit from the hardened soldier that had crash landed back into your life. You won’t complain. After the things you’ve heard, you’re happy he’s finally healthy and well taken care of.

You can also feel how hard he is against your ass.

His arms snake around your waist as you toss the dish towel on the counter. His lips trail up your neck, dragging along the soft skin.

“Miss me that much?” You ask, pressing back against him teasingly.

“Always.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss below your ear.

One of his hands snakes under your shirt, slowly sliding up your stomach, straight towards your breasts. You’re glad you ditched your breastband earlier as his warm hand cups your breast. He hums against your neck in approval, skilled fingers plucking at your nipple as he paints your skin with marks from his teeth.

“Wolffe,” You sigh his name as he switches breasts, giving the other one equal attention.

His other hand slips down your stomach, dipping into your pants. You’ve been wet in anticipation since his arms wrapped around you, his fingers gliding through your slick folds. Your legs tremble as he slowly circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers.

“So wet for me, cyare.” He murmurs against your neck, slipping two of his fingers into you.

“Yes,” You breathe, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “Only for you.”

He growls quietly against your neck, pulling his hands free. He tugs your pants down before lifting you onto the kitchen counter. You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor. He tugs your hips closer to the edge, kneeling in front of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, still kept in the regulation cut. He sometimes lets his stubble grow out, and you’re still trying to convince him to grow a beard just to see how it would look.

He licks a stripe up your clit, hands pressing against your thighs to keep them open for him. His tongue swirls around your clit, his eyes lifted to stare at your face. Your lips part in a moan as he closes his mouth against your clit, sucking hard. Your free hand grips the edge of the counter, holding on as he eats you out.

Your first few times together had been awkward and fumbling as you tried to figure each other out. It had taken lots of practice, and many laughs, to learn each other’s bodies. What you like, what you don’t, what he likes. How to make him putty in your hands. He’s still just as stern and dominating as he had been as a commander, but you know deep down he sometimes needs someone else to take control, someone else to give the orders. Someone he trusts.

Your legs are shaking around his head, your own head thrown back in pleasure as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. The noises are absolutely obscene as he slurps at your drenched pussy like he’s gone days without water.

He pulls away before you can cum, making you whine in protest.

His chin is slick with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You reach forward, yanking his shirt over his head. Your fingers trail along the soft curves of his body, lips pressing kisses against his skin. His hands undo his pants, letting them drop to the floor.

You bite your lip, your hand wrapping around his hard length. His hands drop to your thighs, resting there as you pump him. You meet his gaze, staring into his eyes as you guide him forward and into your heat. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him all the way in. A moan tumbles from your lips at the stretch, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold him as close as you possibly can.

His arms wrap around your back, lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You both breathe for a moment, enjoying being so close, so connected to each other. You bury your face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Musky and sweaty from being out in the warmth of the day working.

He adjusts his grip on you, holding you up as he begins to move. You meet his thrusts, tilting your head up to kiss him. It’s slow and soft, quiet moans passing between your lips. You hold onto him like you’re afraid he might disappear if you let go, like you might suddenly wake and find this has all been a dream.

His own fingers indent your skin, sharing your same fears. You know he’s here, you know it’s real, and he knows it’s real, but still, neither of you can forget the year you had been separated, the many times he could have died, the many times he could have been ripped from you.

“‘M close.” You murmur against his lips, nails breaking the skin of his shoulders.

“Gonna cum for me?” He growls, snapping his hips into yours. “Show me how pretty you look when you cum?”

Your head falls back, lips parted as you cum around his cock, moaning loudly. He watches you, memorizing your face. He’ll never forget it, but he commits it to memory every time.

A few more thrusts and he’s cumming with a growl, snapping his hips into yours a final time as he releases inside of you. You hold him against you, both of you riding out your highs together.

His hold around you is tight, clinging to you. You’re both breathing heavily, breaths mingling as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands gently rub his shoulders, working your way up his neck and into his hair.

“You’re right here.” You whisper, lips brushing his. “I’m right here.”

He exhales shakily, fingers tightening their grip just slightly.

You press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ve got you.”

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons, @ladytano420 @spicy-clones, @dangraccoon, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @stunkbiggu

#star wars #star wars fic #clone wars #clone wars fic #commander wolffe x reader #clones #clone trooper wolffe x reader

433 notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 2 years ago

Text

Spencer Reid SFW | Fluff

To return to the S.R. SFW Masterlist, please click here. If you’re looking for my S.R. NSFW Masterlist, look here. If you're looking for my CM PolyAm Masterlist, look here. If you’re looking for Other MGG Characters, look here. If you’re looking for my Works in Progress, look here.

Works are separated by genre and gender of the Reader. Gender Neutral means that no gender identifiers are used.

Bedtime Stories on the Jet: Spencer and you share the jet couch.

Drunk Dial: It’s been years since Reader talked to Spencer, but after a bunch of drinks it seems like a really good idea.

Appalachian: Reader is tired of Spencer purposefully pushing their buttons and demands an explanation.

Play Dates: Reader finds out Spencer hasn’t had enough dates to play Best/Worst Date with the team and offers several Play Dates, but quickly realizes it’s hard to have a bad date with Spencer Reid.

It’s Personal: Reader reminds Spencer’s team that it’s never appropriate to ask someone for their age, even if they’re dating their coworker.

Style Theory: Fashion student Reader meets their favorite scholar and teaches him a lesson in self-love.

Quid Pro Quo: Spencer is entranced by the law student in his class.

Pipsqueak: The only thing shorter than Reader is their patience.

Fragile: Disabled!Reader. Spencer has to stay behind on a case and gets to know the new technical analyst.

The Perfect Plan: Reader has a question for Spencer, but things don’t go according to plan.

Kitten Love: Spencer’s vet begrudgingly agrees to an emergency house call.

Pair of Aces: This Pride month, Reader decides to share something with the team.

Battle of the Houses: Reid accidentally gets trapped in a Hogwarts House War with Reader, Jack, and Henry.

Like Father, Like You: Child!Reader. Platonic. In which Spencer’s child comes out as not-straight.

More fics below!

Astraphobia: SSA Reader and Spencer share their most embarrassing fears.

What Goes Up: Spencer breaks the Magician’s code for a very adorable exception.

Different Dialects: Autistic!Reader. Spencer is trying to tell Reader he likes her, but it feels like they speak entirely different languages.

Impromptu: Reader learns some shocking news when a case lands her in the hospital.

Soulmates: Spencer comes to a conclusion during a late night with Reader.

Intentions: Spencer’s teenage daughter wants to have a conversation with you about your intentions with her father.

Studious Shadow: Reader’s crush won’t stop avoiding her at work and she thinks he might hate her.

Painting by Numbers: Spencer is still a little worried about his pregnant wife painting the house.

The Prodigy Path: At a parent teacher conference, Spencer and Reader explain their seemingly unorthodox parenting style.

Fairytales: Spencer comes home to his very tired wife and even more tired child who refused to go to bed without a bedtime story from their dad.

Stranger Danger: Reader is a single mother having a very bad day.

Fever Dream: Reader makes an accidental confession, which starts the most intense game of hide and seek.

Defining Family: Spencer finds out he’s a dad… to a twelve year old girl. Your twelve year old girl, who just broke into the FBI.

Devil’s Advocate: Spencer’s been hooking up with the defense attorney in secret. At some point what was purely physical turned into something else.

Honeysuckle Hair: Spencer has some words to say about Reader’s curly hair.

Four in Hand: Spencer needs help with his tie.

Funny Thing Fate: Autistic!Reader is tipsy and lost in D.C. when she spots a man she thinks might be able to help.

Java Jive: Spencer and Emily take a break at the local coffee shop and she makes an understandable mistake about barista Reader and Spencer’s relationship.

Mister Spencer: Reader has a crush on her child’s teacher.

Comme des Garçons: Reader chooses an interesting way to finally confess to dating Spencer.

Pumpkin: Spencer can’t handle how cute Reader’s southern accent is.

Practice Run: Spencer and Reader take on Derek’s challenge to babysit.

Dead Air: Professor Reid is hesitant to be a guest on his old student’s true crime video series, but is surprised to find it’s not so bad.

Serendipitous: Spencer’s pretty sure Penelope mixed up his blind date.

Maddening One, My Goddess: Spencer has a one night stand… on February 13th. The next day, he is confronted with a familiar face on his pre-planned double date.

Growing Pains: Spencer finds unfamiliar lingerie in the laundry. When he confronts his wife, he learns it belongs to their teenage daughter.

Bi the Way: Morgan learns something very interesting about Reid after he leaves his bag at his significant other’s house.

Pretty Boy: Spencer thinks you’re just the bully who likes to pull his pigtails.

Happy Hydrangea: TransMan!Reader. JJ is corrected in finding out Spencer has had a boyfriend for a while now.

Off the Top: TransMan!Reader.Spencer is driving his boyfriend crazy after his top surgery.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

642 notes · View notes

kory-dany · 2 years ago

Text

In defense of Charlotte as a mother

Quick disclaimer this post is not trying to undermine charlottegeorge's (we seriously need to come up with a better ship name) children's feelings towards their mother. Although we know very little about them, it's obvious their relationship with Charlotte isn't perfect, but if I'm being honest, I'm tired of this narrative that she was an awful mother. I 100% agree that she wasn't the best mother (tbh, none of the Bridgerton mothers are. That's what makes the show interesting), but people keep suggesting that she's Augusta-level bad, and that's just not true.

Firstly, everyone keeps forgetting that Lottie lost her parents when she was young, which suggests she didn't have a motherly presence for at least half her life. Secondly, she was eighteen when she had her first child. Eighteen and her strongest examples of motherhood were probably Agatha and Augusta (both, again, arguably not the most amazing mothers). Thirdly, she had fifteen kids. FIFTEEN!! Thirteen (twelve???) surviving, I'm not saying she didn't love them equally, but that's a lot of kids to get to know.

My main argument, however, is that Charlotte probably was not the best mother, and she probably did focus more on being queen and protecting George — which I would argue was also protecting her children. However, she is not Augutsa 2.0 (who, even though not the best mother did try).

Charlotte had twelve (thirteen, idk any more consistency is not this shows strength) surviving children, and it seemed that, for the most part, she let them do whatever they wanted. Unlike Augusta, who tried to control every aspect of George's life, she let her sons whore about (her words, not mine), and she clearly didn't meddle too much in her daughter's love lives. It's only until the very last minute that she inserts herself into their affairs.

At first, it was just her telling them to marry suitable people and produce an heir. She still allowed them to marry who they liked, just as long as they were from a specific pool. And if I'm being honest, that pool wasn't that small; they literally had all of Europe. One of them could have found someone if they had tried. But alas, they didn't which forced Charlotte's hand, leading to arranged marriages.

I think none of them really took her command of marriage seriously because none of them, outside of George probably, knows what responsibility is. Yes, we know that her daughters stayed because they couldn't bare to see their mother remain stuck in time. However, Charlotte did what Augusta couldn't. She didn't let the weight and responsibility of the crown break her children. To her, she was a good mother because she gave them freedom — freedom George never had — she let them have affairs and stay unmarried because she refused to put pressure on them the way Augusta and everyone else did on George.

Her children didn't crack under the crown's weight because she did. Charlotte had two choices: be the best queen or be the best mother. I think she chose the option that made the most sense to her. By being the best queen (George's queen), George had someone on his side, the kingdom had stability, AND her children got to live their lives.

Charlotte had so much responsibility from such a young age; is it really shocking that she couldn't juggle it all? Furthermore, people keep acting like she didn't love her kids, but she clearly did. She was very much pained when Elizabeth confessed her miscarriages, she was gentle with William when he admitted he was scared, and she was ecstatic when Edward announced Victoria's pregnancy. She didn't even care that they thought it would be a girl.

Overall, Charlotte is not a perfect mother, but none of the Bridgerton mothers are (not even Violet). All the mothers in this world are just women who tried their best. And as much as their best may not have been enough, it's all they had. Bridgerton does this brilliant thing, highlighting the toxic cycle that occurs when child-baring is a societal expectation, even in relationships made from love and children produced by autonomy. Charlotte's story is just another example.

#queen charlotte: a bridgerton story #queen charlotte #charlotte of mecklenburg-strelitz #yes i know how she reacted to her granddaughters death was no pretty but thats an entirely different post #this is a whole bunch of rambling #but I had to say it because it felt like people were being extremely critical #like yes she’s not the best mum but like also nuance?!?!#charlottes a complicated character and i don’t think it’s appreciated enough #anyway i will always appreciate the complicated mother representation that the bridgerton world keeps feeding us

186 notes · View notes

baileypie-writes · 5 months ago

Note

Hello I am back for A request

How about A plantonic Adult Nozomi & gender neutral (male reader if it’s ok) where ingoring Otona existence (as most do) around the same time frame the palmier kingdom is going through A crisis for the third time and Nozomi is unable to transform to cure dream to help and during A monster attack in the city she sees A kid around her age when she first became cure dream attack at the monster and then she notices that it’s the new cure dream

Maybe how she would react or would she become A mentor type character to them

A/N ~ Sure! I love this idea! And btw, yes, the Reader can be male. I do all gender Readers:) Also, I assumed you meant that Reader’s cure name is Cure Dream. I apologize if it wasn’t what you meant haha. I can always edit it later anyway. Hope you enjoy!

~The New Cure Dream~

Nozomi Yumehara + Male!Pretty Cure!Reader

~~~💫~~~💫~~~💫~~~

Fandoms: Yes! Precure 5, Otona Precure(though the actual show never happened)

Fanfic Type: Oneshot

Reader: Male, Pretty Cure, younger teen

Relationship: Platonic

Genre: Action?

Word Count: 1,251

Synopsis: Nozomi wished she could be of help during a new monster attack. But to her shock and surprise, a new Pretty Cure jumped into battle.

Warnings: Minor violence and destruction, Coco and Nuts mentioned, sort of abrupt ending?

~Masterlists~

~Yes! Precure 5 Masterlist~

In this oneshot, the story/events of Otona Precure never happened

~~~💫~~~💫~~~💫~~~

One of the worst parts about growing up is that you’re not really able to do some things anymore. Things like playing on playgrounds, playing with toys or having slumber parties at your friend’s houses aren’t as fun or socially acceptable. Those are things that Nozomi reminisces about occasionally. But what she reminisces about the most is her time being a Pretty Cure.

Those two years may have been a long time ago, but they were truly the highlight of her life. She wouldn’t be the person she is today if it weren’t for them. She often wishes she could experience them once more.

But she’s never wished that more than she was now.

~~~~

Clouds of dust enveloped the scene of destruction in front of her. Rubble flew in all directions, causing Nozomi to run into a nearby alley for safety. It was a smart move, as right when she did, a large chunk of concrete crashed into her previous spot. The culprit of this incident was a monster in the form of a traffic cone. It very much resembled the Kowaina and Hoshina she used to battle in her early teenage years.

Nozomi had no clue what to do. She knew that this was a job for the Pretty Cure, but she wasn’t one anymore. She hasn’t been in over twelve years! Her eyes darted around, desperately looking for a pink butterfly to come and allow her to transform. But there was none.

Right as her heart sank in despair, a figure swooped past her. Hoping that it was what she was looking for, she exited the alley, following its direction. However, she quickly realized it was an idiotic choice, considering there was still rubble flying everywhere. A particularly large piece came falling towards her, making her raise her arms over her head as a weak defense mechanism.

Just as she prepared herself for the blow, a crash and a grunt was heard from in front of her.

“Are you alright ma’am?” A boy’s voice called out. Nozomi opened her eyes, and froze.

In front of her was you; a young boy. But it wasn’t you alone that shocked her, it was what you were wearing. It looked very similar to what she wore as a Pretty Cure all those years ago. Also, the crumbled bits on the ground implied that you had crushed the large piece of rubble that nearly crashed into her. No normal person has that strength.

“You’re a… Pretty Cure?” Nozomi asked without thinking.

You gasped in surprise, revealing to her that she was correct. You opened your mouth to speak, but you were interrupted by a call.

“Cure Dream!”

Cure Dream.

Nozomi gasped at the mention of her former Pretty Cure name. The one she hadn’t heard in years. But judging by the way you responded by turning in the voice’s direction, it was now your name.

Before she could ask any further questions, you placed your hands on her shoulders. “Please, you have to get out of here!”

Nozomi didn’t say anything, but nodded. She then bolted back to her previous hiding spot. Though, she peeked from behind the brick wall, just to see what you were going to do.

You landed a hard kick to the monster, making it tumble to the ground. It didn’t even get a chance to get up, as you kicked it again.

“Dream, now!” The voice called out again. Nozomi could see who it was this time, though. It was a small fairy, standing on a nearby bench. It resembled a flying squirrel, and had tan fur. She assumed they were from the Palmier Kingdom.

“Alright!” You said, then began powering up.

Nozomi’s mouth hung open in shock, as she remembered the exact movements you were doing. It was her attack.

“Pretty Cure! Shooting Star!” You called out. The attack hit the monster square in the face. Not a second later, it disappeared, only leaving a normal traffic cone behind.

You both watched as your surroundings changed back to normal. It was as if no destruction had happened at all.

“You did it Dream!” The small fairy cheered. Though you ignored them, instead, looking around. “What’s wrong?” They asked.

“Someone knew I was a Pretty Cure.” You said, still looking.

“What? But no one knows what the Pretty Cure are!”

“I do.” Nozomi called out, emerging from her hiding spot. You and the fairy turned to her, shock and confusion written on your faces.

“My name is Nozomi Yumehara.” She introduced herself. She walked up to you, kneeling down just a bit to meet your height. “And around twelve years ago, I was a Pretty Cure, just like you.”

You gasped, absolutely speechless. But it seemed that the fairy wasn’t. “Nozomi? No way! You’re the Cure Dream of the past!”

She chuckled. “Yes, I was.” She reached down, and pet the little creature’s head. “And what’s your name?”

“Cinnamon!” She responded. She got down on all fours, bowing to Nozomi. “It’s such an honor to meet you!” She tapped your foot, signaling for you to bow as well. You did, putting your hands to your sides, and leaning down.

“Oh please, you don’t have to do that!” She blushed a bit, and scratched the back of her neck bashfully. “I can’t believe there’s a new Pretty Cure! And you’re a boy too! I didn’t know there could be boy Cures. That’s amazing!”

“Heh, yeah. I guess all the past ones were girls.” You said. You then de-transformed, revealing your true self to Nozomi. “But anyway, I’m (full name).” You laughed, and stuck out your hand for her to shake, to which she happily did. But only for a few seconds, as she suddenly gasped, and stopped.

“Wait! If there’s a new Pretty Cure, that must mean that Palmier Kingdom’s in danger again! What’s going on?” She panicked.

“Oh, yes! There’s a new threat to the kingdom! That’s why King Coco and King Nuts sent me to find new Pretty Cures!” Cinnamon responded.

“Oh no! What’s the threat?”

“We’re not exactly sure. All we know is that the palace was attacked, and an ominous note was left! And after that, monsters began appearing here!”

“Yeah. I only became a Pretty Cure yesterday. It all happened so fast. And I don’t even know what to do to find the others…” You said, clearly a bit stressed.

Nozomi smiled gently, and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be alright. Besides, I know a thing or two about being a Pretty Cure. So how about I help you out?”

“No way!” Cinnamon gasped. “(name), Nozomi wants to be your mentor! You cannot pass up this opportunity!”

“Really? You’ll teach me everything?” You asked.

“Of course! It’s my job as the old Cure Dream to help out the new one!” She said.

“Thank you so much Miss Yumehara!” You bowed yet again, this time much lower to show even more gratitude and respect.

Nozomi chuckled. “It’s no problem. Now come on, I know a building by a lake we can use as a sort of ‘headquarters’.” She said, and began leading you all to the mentioned destination.

Nozomi knew that she’d never be able to be a Pretty Cure ever again. The introduction of a new generation of Cures further proved that. However, she discovered that while she may not be able to transform and fight, she can still help out. And that’s just what she was going to do.

~~~💫~~~💫~~~💫~~~

~~baileypie-writes

#baileypie-writes #precure #precure x reader #precure x reader platonic #pretty cure #pretty cure x reader #pretty cure x reader platonic #yes precure 5 #yes precure 5 x reader #yes precure 5 x reader platonic #yes precure 5 gogo #yes precure 5 gogo x reader #yes precure 5 gogo x reader platonic #otona precure #otona precure x reader #otona precure x reader platonic #nozomi yumehara #nozomi yumehara x reader #nozomi yumehara x reader platonic

11 notes · View notes

whereserpentswalk · 1 year ago

Text

Poll to help determine who wins the elections during the final arc of my motw campaign.

It's the summer of two thousand sixteen, and you're a resident of New York city. Strange events have been happening geologically since late twenty twelve. The government has been talking about forces beyond our knowledge, people have gone missing, and now civil war has broken out in Egypt, Britian and New Zealand, with strange talk of them involving ancient gods, vampires, and wizards respectively. And worst of all, from what you know nuclear disaster has claimed St. Luis.

A few weeks ago, mysterious broadcasts have revealed a global conspiracy, and an underground war between those trying to unveil the conspiracy and those trying to maintain it, protests have been sparked throughout downtown Manhattan, the sky has been turned red, and new forces gain power in the city as the American government slowly implodes, and the police are recruited as shock troops by those trying to maintain the veil.

Yesterday it was revealed that the conspiracy was not just one of power, but one of reality, as a fight broke out between protesters utilizing supernatural powers, with a warrior in flaming armor, winged humanoids, and a woman with unnatural speed and invulnerability defended the protests from the police. It has now been revealed that more thinking beings then humanity inhabit this earth, and that magic is provably real, with entire underground neighborhoods existing below the city surface that house many of these beings.

With any semblance of a human government gone, the rebellion against the veil is now holding elections to see who will lead the city after the war is won.

Your Current candidates are:

The Sun Mage- The man who started the rebellion to reveal the magical world to humanity, a sorcerer who defected at the age of nineteen, having trekked across the country, and lost a leg in defense of his cause. He has been known to be idealistic, rejecting formal structure, and refusing to have any sort of headquarters beyond his apartment in Chelse. He's popular among commoners, both in the underground and the surface world, but the military and higher ups in the revolution are skeptical of his ability to organize properly. He appears as a young man, usually wearing a long coat and hat, with a hook prosthetic leg, tan skin, and long hair.

Claire Adams- A human who was once part of a monster hunter organization (seeming tied to several Ivy Legue schools) that maintained the veil, she helped push her organization into the rebellion, and championed radical praxis in order to break the veil and militarization of the rebellion. She is probably the most radical of the rebels, embracing full rights for creatures thought to be dangerous to humanoids, such as vampyrs, demigods and lycanthropes, and possibly even supporting the restructuring of the economy to distribute wealth away from species privileged under the old system and fully integrate humanity into the magical world. She appears as a young woman with pale skin and black hair, seeming to be part of the emo/scene subculture, and usually wearing her full monster hunter equipment and crossbow.

High king Maryanne Obelisk- Once a normal human girl who tried to avenge her brother who was killed for disobeying an order from a sorcerer, she lost her humanity in her quest for vengeance, being bitten by the previous king of vampyrs (Arthur Pendragon) and taking his throne after defeating him and banishing him to England. She is one of humanity's, and many other downtrodden species, biggest defenders, once having been living proof of humanity's competence in the face of magic. She's been the one most willing to respond to disasters, though she has known to be ruthless, and the vampyrs working under her might not share her sense of justice. She is the most beloved of the leaders among human activists. Like all vampyrs, she appears as a humanoid with white scales, a large snake like mouth, and black eyes.

Elric of Vinland- a travel from an unknown place, possibly forwards, backwards or sideways in time (though such things are mysterious even to mages). He's been one of the most aggressive warriors of the rebellion, traveling across the world to start and aid uprisings, and make previously hostile factions sympathetic. Most famously, he helped attack the sorcerer's academies by helping enslaved elves rise up against their masters. He is in direct Legue with the gods, being a paladin of Hel and Lilith, and seems to have experience as a military leader and political actor from wherever he was from. Though the rest of the rebellion has been skeptical of him, commoners amoung humanity and creature alike seem to like him. He appears as a young man with strawberry blond hair, having lost his hearing and disfigured his hands in previous battles, he often wears a futuristic looking uniform, and is able to spawn burning armor when going into battle.

Dr Robert Coleridge- a human handed one of the five most powerful magic items on earth by Jesus of Naseerah (a powerful lich and son of Zeus), transforming him into an ageless genderless being with dominion over magic. He seems to be the most kindhearted of all the leaders of the rebellion, being slow to violence and not wanting to use his powers as a weapon. He's taken power among the harpies, who were once the bankers of the magical world, but have since become the main force funding the rebellion. He does not want to be elected, which might be what makes him the best man for the job. He appears as an unnaturally beautiful androgynous being with glowing eyes, usually wearing a button-down shirt and bowtie.

Grand Inquisitor Espen Hunter- a sorcerer who once was a high-ranking military officer among the forces trying to maintain the veil, who switched sides out of principle when the sorcerous government planned to commit acts of terror and genocide against harpy populations and began conscripting children into the inquisition as part of the late war effort. He is still skeptical of many the rebellion's ideals but will side with them over genocide. For better or worse, he is slow to implement ideas until they are well proven to him. Though other than possibly Elric, he is the cantante with the most experience in government, and other then Robert he's the only candidate above twenty-five. He appears as a warrior in archaic armor, wielding a mace in one hand as a spell in the other, a mask covers his face which was disfigured by an attack spell.

We're sorry you have to vote for people you didn't know existed until now, but this was the only way.

26 notes · View notes

outstandingblue · 2 years ago

Text

Promises to Keep

Thirteen - Almost Lost, Twice

recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc

Miles almost losses Jiniraa and he (unintentionally) returns the favor.

cross-posted on ao3 here content warning: it's a doozy blood, animal attack, animal mutilation, stabbing, animal bite, loss of self, angst word count: 8.5k

The viperwolf latched itself onto Jiniraa’s arm and Miles felt his entire world shift. There was nothing else that mattered. All that shit he said earlier that day about the mission being the most important thing? Gone. All that mattered was getting Jiniraa and Spider and the team out of this mess. His vision was trained on Jiniraa’s form - the way the animal’s jaw pressed further into her flesh, the way her deep red blood dripped onto the forest floor, the way her eyes were wide and terrified.

The creature momentarily released its death grip on her arm, but latched onto her hip as it slid down. Jiniraa let out another howl of pain as its teeth sunk into her flesh, tearing straight through her woven pants.

Viperwolves descended on the entire group. They usually picked on loners in the forest, not an entire group. The pack must’ve been beyond starving to challenge the Recoms, searching the group for the weakest one - that person would be the easiest to pick off. Spider remained encased in the center of the group; Lyle continuously threw glances over his shoulder to check on the teenager as he fought off every damned animal that lunged his way.

Miles only saw red as he made his way towards the woman. Hunman Quaritch hated viperwolves for his own reasons - his scars originated from their deadly claws. He carried those markings as a badge of honor, proof even Pandora wasn’t strong enough to kill him. Recom Quaritch carried that same hatred deep inside, but the hatred would change into unadulterated loathing by the end of the night.

Miles slashed the animal, forcing it to release its death hold on Jiniraa’s side before it fell to the ground. He forced his foot down its neck, hearing the satisfying crunch of its spinal cord under his boot. For extra measure, Miles stabbed his knife into his torso, ripping back towards its tail to empty the contents of its body onto the forest floor. Once the threat was beyond dead, Miles grabbed Jiniraa by the waist, dragging her back to the security of the group. Prager stepped to the side, allowing Miles to come through and then resumed his position. They were guarded by a wall of Recoms. She was awake and still breathing, but clearly in shock - the clammy skin and glassy eyes were enough proof.

“Baby, you with me?” Miles slapped the sides of Jiniraa’s cheeks, watching as her unfocused eyes rolled around in their sockets, “fuck, eyes on me.”

He set his knife next to them on the forest floor, bringing both hands up to cradle her face. She was dazed as the chaos continued around them, but nevertheless she nodded. She had yet to realize the severity of her wounds, not noticing how her blood was collecting in two small puddles beside her.

“That’s it, there you are. There’s those pretty eyes, keep ‘em on me, yeah?” Miles softly cooed as her eyes locked onto his, dragging on the phrase to keep her focused. He was acting as her tether to the world.

Spider had his back to the pair, acting as their second line of defense if the wall of Recoms failed. He tried to remain brave, but the shaking hands showed just how terrified the young teen was. He had never experienced a viperwolf attack of this magnitude before. His bow was drawn, but he couldn’t trust that he’d hit his target when he released.

A viperwolf launched itself off a tree branch, aiming right for Zdinarsk’s head. The impact of the skeletal creature knocked her completely off balance, making her fall back and land on Miles. With the absence of Miles and Zdinarsk, there was an opening to the two most vulnerable members: Spider and Jiniraa. Viperwolves could smell the blood that was already split, making their mouth’s fill with slobber as they salivated imagining their next meal.

Two sets of yellow eyes gleamed as a bold viperwolf darted forward, seizing the opportunity to take down the seemingly defenseless pair. Jiniraa was still out of it as everything seemed to occur in slow motion: a dark figure coming from above, Zdinarsk falling onto Miles, Zdinarsk and Miles wrestling a viperwolf, the viperwolf coming towards her and Spider. Right towards Spider. Spider.

The blade on the ground gleamed and Jiniraa grabbed it. The weight was unnatural in her hand, the hilt heavy and straight rather than curved and sleek. She would've preferred her own obsidian blade in this situation, but there wasn’t time to think about that. She swung an arm behind Spider, hitting him in the knees and making him fall forward into the ground. She moved her body infront of him, crouching down to cover him as much as possible. Spider hit the ground just as the viperwolf launched itself into the air and six sets of claws came right for her.

Miles snapped the neck of his viperwolf, a kill performed with his bare hands. His knife was long forgotten a few feet away on the ground. He turned to Jiniraa, watching a viperwolf launch itself at her for the second time that night. It made contact and the force made her fall backwards, rolling over her shoulder as she wrestled with the animal. She flipped them over, knees on either side of the animal's body.

Her eyes widened, enough to show the whites around her green eyes as she screamed. This time the scream wasn’t in pain, but sheer, unbridled rage. She extended an arm, wrapping her fingers around its neck to keep the snapping jaw away from her hand as the other stabbed the animal again and again and again. She sliced the animal well past its point of death, almost mutilating to beyond recognition.

She rose up onto her feet as she bent over the corpse, unable to contain her growl as her throat burned in fury. She returned to her full height and joined the nearby Recoms in their defense. By the end, she took down four more viperwolves before the pack retreated into the darkness. Jiniraa stood, eyes wide and crazed as she looked around. Animalistic was the only word one could use to describe her current state. She wasn’t standing up straight, remaining slightly hunched over with a bend in the knees. There was a splatter of blood diagonal across her face, the result of her feverish violence.

The people she cared about had been threatened and she protected them. She spent too many years living in fear, utterly reliant upon the people around her. No more of that. Now? She was capable and strong - she did not need to entrust her safety into the abilities of another out of necessity anymore. She could protect herself just fine and would bring a reckoning down on anything that dared attempt to harm those she cared about.

Miles watched, completely speechless at the metamorphosis. A rebirth. This was not the same scared and weak woman he’d picked out of the forest over a month ago. No - she was a warrior now. Screw everything Jake Sully tried (and failed) to teach her all those years ago, continuously telling her she was the lost cause. No, Jake, you were the one in the wrong. Jiniraa always had this strength inside of her, she just needed the right people to push her.

She was still on high alert as Miles approached her, slowly raising his empty hands to show he wasn’t a threat. She swung the knife - his knife - towards his chest, reaching to slash at him before she realized who it was. He crouched down to be more level with her, rather than the imposing mass he typically was. The burn in her arm and hip was starting to take over, making her grip loosen slightly, but she refused to give in and release the blade. Spider’s gaze flicked back and forth between Jiniraa and Miles, watching the latter approach her like she was a wild animal.

“Sweetheart, put down the knife,” Miles bartered, volume low in volume, but firm in tone. She didn’t respond as her tail flickered around. He watched her blink twice, seeing her physicality change as reality settled in. She looked around the clearing, finding the bodies of over a dozen viperwolves littering the ground, varying in levels of disfiguration and mutilation.

The weight of the situation came down on Jiniraa instantly, robbing her body of any strength. Miles closed the gap between then, catching her in his arms before her knees even hit the ground. He quickly pulled the knife out of her grip and tossed it somewhere behind him. He didn’t care where it landed. Someone else would pick it up. All that mattered was her.

She clung to his vest, continuing to look around at the corpses. The blood from her hands was seeping into the material of his vest, making her sick to her stomach, but Miles didn’t care. Na’vi were supposed to protect the great balance and leave decisions of life and death to the Great Mother. She took that into her own hands, literally. Also - she didn’t just kill a creature and move on. No, she butchered the animals without care for the pain they felt. These deaths weren’t completely meaningless - they were necessary to protect Spider and Miles and all the other Recoms, but it didn’t make the gravity of the situation any easier.

Jiniraa’s hands shook as she attempted to wipe the blood off her skin, but it was pointless. It was already beginning to stain. Miles didn’t care that she wiped the blood right onto the vest - that was the least of his concerns. She didn’t seem to notice that there was blood spewed across her face; if she did know, she would’ve emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor next to them. Miles would have to figure out a way to get it off without telling her what it was.

He brought one hand to cradle the back of her head, pushing her forehead into his chest in an attempt to shield her gaze from the carnage she had caused. A carnage he never wanted to see again. For those few minutes, Jiniraa was lost to her rage as her instincts took over. That wasn’t the Jiniraa he knew - this was a completely new side to her that she did not even know existed.

Jiniraa pulled herself out of Miles’ hold, wiggling around as he tightened his hold on her. She sharply inhaled and whined in pain, making him ease up instantly, “Spider.”

He remained planted on the ground, watching her stumble and almost fall over as she made her way to Spider. He was ready to jump up and catch her if need be, but in the meantime he would let her walk on her own two feet. Jiniraa checked over Spider once, twice, and then a third time as she didn’t trust her own eyes. Spider complied to her examination, if he refused she would just get more upset. She wasn’t able to find a single scratch on him, truly a miracle.

“Oh, thank you, Great Mother,” Jiniraa breathed out, brushing the hair off Spider's mask. He sadly smiled, already seeing the consequences of her actions beginning to weigh on her conscience. This would be a night that never left, haunting her until the day she died.

“‘Niraa? Are you okay?” Spider tentatively asked, voice laced with sincerity as he wrapped small pale fingers around her much larger ones. His gaze drifted to her bloodied arm and stained pants. The lacerations were deep and almost pulsating, making Spider almost lose the contents of his stomach.

“Sweet boy, I am okay as long as you are alright,” Jiniraa sniffled as a single tear fell.

Miles watched the exchange from afar, feeling voyeuristic as he listened in on their intimate moment. Spider felt the Colonel’s intense gaze burning a hole into the side of his face. He turned to face the echo of his father; Spider didn’t need to vocalize his question as they conversed through eye contact. You alright?

Miles approached the pair, taking a knee as he checked over Spider with his own eyes. He felt awkwards under the two unrelenting and scrutinizing gazes. It was bad enough when Jiniraa fretted over him, and now there were two of them. Although it was a foreign feeling, it was nice - these two people cared so deeply about the boy they were ready to lay down their lives if need be.

The Recoms moved around in silence, trying to give the trio a moment of solace as they secured the area. They all knew their jobs, so there was no need to talk and risk disturbing the private moment.

“Sweetheart, we gotta take care of your wounds.” Miles brushed his fingers against Jiniraa’s forearm, trying to get her attention. He didn’t allow his fingers to trail any further upward, not knowing how much pain she was in. The blood was still actively pouring from the wound, but it had slowed significantly as her heart rate returned to its semi-normal pace. Blood ran down her arm, creating a morbid criss-cross pattern of red and blue as it clashed with her natural stripes. The gash on her hip was worse, blood collecting on her pants and spreading quickly. As Miles called her injury to attention, the agony seemed to settle all at once. Her eyes rolled back as her mouth dropped open, breath caught in her throat at the trauma she’d been ignorant to thus far.

Miles rose and wrapped his arm around her waist as he guided them towards a cleared area, one that wasn’t stained with blood and death. Spider awkwardly followed behind, not really knowing how he fit into the current situation.

“Ja!” Miles called out, motioning down to the woman in his arms. The medic nodded, getting his small field kit ready.

Miles sat down first, letting his legs extend out. He expected Jiniraa to settle down next to him, so it was a shock when she boldly took a seat between his legs and leant back against his chest. She was completely drained - emotionally and physically, so there was no thought behind her movements. She instinctively sought out his body for comfort. The warmth reminded her he was there. This was real. He was real.

“I’m going to have to clean this out first, ‘ight?” Ja asked as he cracked open a container of alcohol. The smell burned Jiniraa’s nose, the sterile smell was something she was intimately familiar with from the extensive hours she spent in the lab with Norm, Max, and the other scientists. Still, that familairy didn’t make it smell any better. She nodded, grounding herself by gripping the material of Miles' makeshift shorts.

Ja and the Colonel made eye contact, already preparing for Jiniraa to lash out and fight back against the pain. Miles snaked an arm around her bare waist, anchoring her back against his front as he nodded at the medic. The pain from the disinfectant was almost worse than the initial wound itself. As expected, Jiniraa attempted to escape the sensation, but Miles’ hold was unrelenting. The wounds needed to be properly cleaned or else she risked infection. His ears turned down at the pained whimpers and gasps that worked their way from Jiniraa.

Her hip was worse. Not only was it in an awkward place to reach, but it was also more painful. The animal’s teeth must’ve sunk in far deeper than her arm. As Miles helped her shimmy her pants down a little bit, allowing Ja access to the wound, Miles eyes were drawn to that familiar star-shaped scar placed an inch or do away from her hip bone. The bite almost perfectly surrounded the decade old scar in a morbid border. She’d been hit in that area twice, almost like Eywa had planned it herself.

Ja’s touch remained perfectly clinical as he worked to clean out her wounds. Only touching on a need be basis, working quickly under the scrutinizing gaze of his superior.

As Ja finished, Jiniraa fell completely limp against Miles, attempting to curl into him and escape everything. Her chest continued to rise and fall with deep, rapid breaths, but now she’d endured the worst of it. This time yesterday, they were curled up in the safety of Miles’ bed where nothing could ever hurt them. Now? Miles could have lost her in the blink of an eye. If that viperwolf aimed for her jugular rather than her bicep, it would’ve been over. There would have been no shot at saving her, no matter how much Miles would have fought.

Ja pulled away to thread his needle, holding a flashlight between his teeth. Miles, as opportunistic as ever, took the moment of privacy to press his lips against Jiniraa’s temple as his arm tightened around her. This time, it was to convince himself that she was okay. This was real. She was real.

Her shaky hand reached for his free hand, pulling the appendage into her lap as she played with his fingers as a means to distract herself from the pain. Soft fingers traced each digit with feather light touches, running the length of the finger before starting over with the next one. She was tiring quickly, so the movement eventually became too much to focus on. Jiniraa allowed Miles to wrap his hand around her much smaller one, giving her a squeeze every few seconds. The blood was still on her hand, but he would deal with that later.

Ja cursed under his breath as he continued to struggle with threading his needle - he was great at many things, but he certainly was not known for his ability to thread a needle. Miles rolled his eyes at the medic before feeling Jiniraa slump against him as she dozed off. He wanted nothing more than for her to sleep in his arms, but her health was more important.

“Baby, gotta stay awake,” Miles murmured against the tip of her ear, slightly shaking her. The term of endearment had slipped from his lips the second time that night. The first time was out of pure fear, petrified at the thought of losing her. This time it was intentional, feeling appropriate for their situation. He almost lost her. There was no better time than the present to act on this.

She whined, fighting to stay as she waited for Ja to start working. She only flinched the first couple stitches before becoming accustomed to the sensation. Ja made quick work before carefully wrapping her upper arm with white gauze and placing a patch on her hip. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they could offer in the field. Dr. Renia Cox would be her first stop upon return to Bridgehead.

As Ja treated Jiniraa’s injuries, the rest of the Recoms cleared camp. Lopez, Prager, and Lyle made three separate trips to dispose of the viperwolf bodies, dumping them far enough that any scavengers wouldn’t be tempted to approach the temporary settlement. Zdinarsk and Mansk remained on tour, surveying their surroundings for threats. None of them had any major injuries; Prager had a scrape on his right forearm and Zdinarsk had a killer headache from getting her head slammed into the ground, but they didn’t require immediate medical care.

“I’m tired,” Jiniraa slurred against Miles as Ja moved away to regroup with the rest of the team.

“I would be concerned if you weren’t,” Miles chuckled, the force of his laugh jostling Jiniraa. His thumb ran over the back of her knuckles, caked and sticky with a thin layer of blood. Miles called out, “hey, Spider, grab my canteen, would you? And her bag too.”

Spider made quick work of grabbing the half-full canteen and delivering it to Miles’ outstretched hand. The Recom pointed to a nearby scrap of fabric - a cut-off from someone’s pants - and Spider grabbed that as well. Miles doused the fabric in the cool water and began to wipe the blood off her hands. She remained complacent within his grip, allowing him to manipulate her hand however he needed to work best. Her eyes remained closed, trusting him to wash any evidence of sin from her skin. Even when it got to her face, Miles’ touches were light. He never dared to pull her skin taught, even if it meant it took longer to get rid of the blood.

When Miles was pleased with his work, he took a swig of water before offering the canteen to Jiniraa. He held it up as she took a small sip before resuming her resting place against his chest. Absent-minded circles were rubbed into her soft waist, “ready to sleep now?”

She nodded at Miles’ question, but made no move to stand. Her hammock was set up only a few feet away, so Miles easily could just carry her over. He made no effort to move either, enjoying their shared moment too much.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Jiniraa quietly pleaded, the second night in a row she asked that question. She was scared of another attack, just realizing how close she was to dying less than an hour ago. Miles’ chest tightened at the slight crack in her voice, but warmed at the idea she felt safest in his grasp.

“Of course you can,” Miles confirmed, pressing another soft kiss to her temple.

Jiniraa slid out of Miles’ grasp, leaving him momentarily confused before she laid herself down on the forest floor, back against the log he used as a backrest. His thigh became her pillow, arms wrapping around to lock his limb into place. He wouldn’t be able to escape her hold if he tried - not that he wanted to. He would stay still as stone if it meant she got a good night’s rest.

Jiniraa didn’t fall asleep right away. She tried to maintain a little conversation, but Miles engaged as little as possible, hoping she would just fall asleep on her own. The words of Dr. Cox echoed in his mind - she needed rest or else she would seriously hurt herself. Well, the injured box had now been checked, therefore she needed rest more than ever.

He reached over to Jiniraa’s bag, unzipping it with one hand. He struggled to rummage through, searching for the metal tin Cox gave her earlier that day. His fingers brushed along an interior pocket, feeling a piece of paper inside. Out of curiosity, he pulled it up quietly. There were two pictures: one of a much younger Jiniraa and two older individuals and a second of her with Sully’s kids. It felt wrong to look at them without her permission, so he pushed them back into the hiding place. Miles found the tin, pulling it out and applying a thin layer to her back. Maybe the numbing balm would help her sleep.

“Go to sleep,” Miles softly commanded as he brushed hair from Jiniraa’s face, the scent of the salve lingering on his fingers. Her primarily one-sided conversation wasn’t slowing down anytime soon. The rest of the Recoms had already settled into the hammocks for the night - Miles offered to take the first two hours of watch. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep. He didn’t know it, but neither could any of his subordinates. They all remained awake in their hammocks, listening to every sound of the forest.

“I can’t,” Jiniraa confessed, rolling onto her back to get a better look at Miles. He tilted his head, hoping she’d offer an explanation. She didn’t. It wasn’t difficult to gauge that she was still on edge from the attack, something everyone was struggling with. He grazed a hand against the curve of her waist to lull her to sleep.

“I’ll make sure nothing happens, okay?” Miles promised, reaching down and intertwining their pinkies for a brief moment before pulling back. Another pinkie promise, this time initiated by big bad Quaritch. He didn’t know what that was - the action felt unbelievably foreign, but it seemed to work as Jiniraa rolled back onto her side. To help her sleep, Miles slid his arm down to the deepest curve of her waist, rubbing soft circles in possessive affection.

At the darkest point of the night, sometime during Prager’s watch, a glowing jellyfish-like object floated down towards Jiniraa’s sleeping form. Miles’ hand stilled against her skin, the opposite hand tightening on his gun. He held his breath as the glowing orb floated above his fingers pressed against her skin for a few seconds before it bobbed down and ever so slightly brushed against his skin. A second one came down, finding purchase lower on Jiniraa’s waist and rested upon her bandaged hip. The pair remained still for ten seconds or so before floating off in unison, disappearing as quickly as they came. Eywa had forgiven her for the lives she ended prematurely.

Miles kept his promise, staying up the entire night. He watched the watch change from Mansk to Zdinarsk to Prager and finally to Lyle. The night came and went without the slightest hiccup, but he was exhausted as the sun began to poke through the upper canopy of the forest.

The Recoms woke slowly, moving around in silence as they prepared for the trek ahead of them. It was oddly domestic. Seeing everyone was awake, Miles allowed himself to get a few minutes of sleep - it would be better than nothing. Jiniraa woke up right as Miles fell asleep, working to carefully remove the heavy arm slung across her shoulders to move towards everyone else.

Spider was perched on a low branch, leaning against a wall of vines as he worked on the tension of his bow. It took a few shots to get back in the groove, but once he was readjusted to the weapon he hit dead on time and time again. Jiniraa tossed a fruit to Spider, watching as he ripped it into smaller pieces. He slipped off the mask and popped a small piece into his mouth before sealing it once more. Jiniraa settled next to Spider as they shared breakfast in silence.

A few yards away, Miles’ hand flexed, something he’d been doing throughout the night. Feeling nothing under his hand, Miles shot up out of his feet, knife ready and eyes wide as he searched for her form. Within seconds, he located her next to Spider. He slid his knife back into its sheath as he walked towards the group, trying to cover up the little panic he just experienced. Everyone turned back to their tasks, letting the Colonel believe no one saw. They all had, but no one dared to ask.

“Let’s get a move on,” Miles called out with his hands on his hips, “banshees are waitin’ for us!”

A series of whoops and hollers came from the group. They’d all been excited for this moment, especially after hearing stories Jiniraa shared about flying on her ikran Situ. Nothing compared to the freedom one feels as they soared high in the clouds. They would never ask outright, but they all secretly wished they would be permitted to tame their own banshees sooner rather than later. They also never asked why she would become so distant for a few hours after telling stories about her and Situ, but everyone had their theories.

Before leaving camp, Ja checked on Jiniraa’s stitches to make sure she didn’t tear them overnight. Miles hovered behind, watching out of the corner of his eye as he checked his rifle. There was a little blood on her hip, but other than that nothing too alarming.

Jiniraa and Spider led the Recoms through the forest, swinging from overhead vines and jumping on larger branches. They moved with ease, almost like they swam in water. The Recoms were a little less graceful, but it was a drastic improvement from their first days in the forest. Jiniraa came to a screeching halt, making everyone pile up behind her. Mansk took one look over the edge of the branch before shuffling towards Ja; the branch they were stopped on was suspended over a hundred yards in the air. A straight drop down.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Lyle called ahead, clearly out of breath.

“Take the boots off. They’re weighing you all down. Look at Prager - he left his off and hasn’t slipped once.” The Recoms exchanged warry glances as Jiniraa continued, “you wouldn’t want to fall, right?”

Mansk was the first one to drop down and hastily untie his laces, practically ripping the heavy combat boots off. Everyone else followed suit. Boots were abandoned in the forest, even though Jiniraa attempted to stress the leave no trace policy. Once everyone was barefoot, Jiniraa turned around and resumed her quick pace.

As they left the treeline, Jiniraa turned to watch the Recoms as they took in the Hallelujah Mountains. It wasn’t the first time they’d seen them - flight patterns had taken them through there countless times, but that didn’t make them any less amazing to witness. Marvelous.

“Wow,” Zdinarsk whispered under her breath, slinging her rifle against her back as she took in the sights. The floating mountains were imposing, breathtaking, and terrifying all at the same time.

“Ready to climb?” Jiniraa boasted, almost bouncing in excitement. Spider slipped his bow across his chest as he moved to stand next to Jiniraa, a wicked smile etched on his face. He was so ready to see the Recoms get a taste of their own medicine. He wanted them to struggle.

Mansk seemed uneasy at the task ahead of them. He was fine with heights - fine as long as he didn’t look down. In the Hallelujah Mountains, it was impossible not to look down. Jiniraa sensed his anxieties as she moved towards the fidgety Recom, “you okay, Mansk?”

He nodded slowly, not looking down as he continued to take in the floating mountains in awe and fright. Jiniraa rubbed at his arm reassuringly.

“Everyone needs to listen to Spider and I as we approach where the ikran nest,” Jiniraa declared, raising her voice so everyone would take her seriously, “got it?”

She tried to be threatening. On another day, they would have laughed her off a little. Today? After seeing what she was capable of the night before? She had been more ruthless than any of them. They all nodded quickly.

“You alright to do this?” Miles asked, pointing towards her twin bandages. There also was the bruise on her back, but he was less concerned about that.

“Of course I am, Miles,” she smiled up at him, voice dripping with sweetness.

“Just makin’ sure,” he raised his eyebrows with a small smirk.

She turned around and took a step back before running forward and launching herself into the air. She landed on a small floating boulder, calling out as she stood up, “you’re going to want to get a move on!”

Her laugh was infectious as she moved, euphoric as she moved from boulder to boulder, using vines to pull her body up. Her body was much stronger than the last time she’d been up here, making her movements more fluid and easy to push through. The first few minutes, Miles was afraid for her safety, but he had faith in her once he witnessed the confidence in her body as she moved. She allowed her instincts to take over, her body able to move without thinking.

Spider followed close behind Jiniraa, trailing anywhere between ten and twenty feet behind the woman. He was smiling and laughing too, throwing jokes up to Jiniraa as they moved in tandem. The Recoms struggled at first, their fears dictated their actions rather than trusting their bodies. Once they got over that initial fear, they began to move with relative ease. Mansk trailed the furthest back, still not comfortable with the sheer drop below him. He blamed his lagging on the weight of his gun, arguing it was the heaviest and most awkward to move with.

The first time an ikran flew in front of them, the entire Recom team halted in their tracks, instinctively pulling their rifles to the ready. Jiniraa clicked her tongue in protest, a sound they had all gotten used to when they did something she didn’t appreciate. One by one, they slung their rifles back over their sounders and resumed the journey upward.

“C’mon, keep up, losers!” Spider yelled down, taunting the Recoms for their slow place. They may have moved quicker than him on land, but this was his terrain. Spider Socorro, King of the Mountains.

Jiniraa clicked her tongue once more, scolding him for his taunts. She paused, hanging off the side of a boulder, “Spider, play nice.”

“They said the same thing to me in the forest!” Spider argued back. Jiniraa rolled her eyes, knowing he made a valid point. She couldn’t help but think how this resembled the childish arguments between Spider and the Sully children, she’s heard him say those words a hundred times before. He was just a child, trying to get people to recognize his skill.

Jiniraa entered the cave first and Spider followed close behind. She walked towards the ledge, pushing her hands into the cool water that flowed from above. One handful to splash her face to cool down and the second to drink the pure, clean water.

Jiniraa turned away from Spider, trying to hide her actions as she peeled back the material of her pants. In times like this, it was useful to wear pants that had such large vertical slits in them. She grimaced seeing the deep crimson pushing through and staining the bandage. Once again, she was grateful for the pants as it hid her torn stitches from everyone.

Lyle was the first Recom to make his way into the cave system, obnoxiously letting out an ‘oorah’ while flexing. In quick succession, Zdinarsk then Miles then Prager, Ja, and Lopez together joined them. Mansk was the last Recom, leaning against the wall to catch his breath as he finally felt safe with solid footing under his bare feet.

“Banshee time!” Lyle yelled out, flexing his arms for a second time.

Jiniraa’s signature tongue click pulled everyone’s attention to her. She stood at the opposite end of the passageway, but everyone looked past her. They watched as a dozen ikran flew down, screeching to each other as they soared through the air. The entire color spectrum was displayed on their mighty wings. Dagger-like teeth glimmered as the light caught them, each as long as their fingers.

“Everyone needs to listen to me if you want to live. You must choose your own ikran and they must choose you. Take your braid out in front of you. See this at the end? You are going to use this to make tsaheylu, the bond. Once the bond is made it is for life. An ikran will only fly with one hunter in their entire life.” Jiniraa walked them through the basics. The joking tone Jiniraa had a few minutes ago was gone, replaced with unrelenting seriousness. The Recoms nodded, trying to internalize her directions. She looked over them, hovering over Miles for a second too long before turning around. “Come.”

One by one, the Recoms pushed through the narrow passageway, all having to bend over as they walked up the makeshift stairs. It was incredibly humid inside the cave structure, the walls were damp with condensation as it almost collected enough to run down the walls. The transition from darkness to light was painful, making everyone shield their eyes.

Miles attempted to push Jiniraa behind him as they entered the ikran nesting grounds, but she pushed right back against him and moved around his arm. He wasn’t going to steal this moment from her. Spider joined her at the front of the group, crouching down as they stalked towards an overgrown root which he perched himself up on.

The Recoms circled around, rifles at the ready for an attack. Lyle, Miles, Prager, and Zdinarsk took position near Spider and Jiniraa while Mansk, Lopez, and Ja moved in an opposite direction. Lyle quickly assembled a long-barrelled sniper rifle, pulling a small pouch from his waist to grab a tranquilizer bullet.

“I got this,” Miles grabbed the weapon out of the Corporal’s hands, not giving him a second to refuse.

His back was to Jiniraa, so he was unaware of the deep scowl that settled on her face. She and Spider shared a look; Spider looked much more amused than Jiniraa did. She was upset with him - maybe more like upset at him while her true anger began with General Ardmore. It was the General whose threat caused Miles to accelerate her cultural lesson plans, jumping straight to taming an ikran when there were a dozen steps in between.

Spider laughed, mocking Miles as he pointed the barrel at the closest ikran and gazed through the scope.

“What?” Miles asked, not knowing how idiotic he looked with a gun pointed towards an ikran.

“Na’vi kids younger than me do this with their bare hands,” Spider continued to laugh.

Miles paused and bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating his actions, “Jake Sully do it the hard way?”

“What do you think?” Spider challenged back.

Miles focused on Jiniraa, who had placed between himself and his semi-son. She wasn’t paying attention to the banter, but watched the ikran with a wide smile on her face. Memories from her hunter initiation flashed in her eyes: the way she made eye contact with Situ and immediately knew he was the one for her. The way Tsu’tey stood back and coached her through the experience, shouting in pride when she finally made the bond. And most importantly, the freedom she felt as she flew off the cliff for the first time as an independent rider.

“You did too?” Miles asked, truly curious.

“When I was fourteen,” she smiled, a distant smile with a twinge of sadness. “So that means big ol’ Quaritch can do it the Na’vi way, right?”

Miles pushed the rifle back into Lyle’s hands, mumbling, “don’t call me that.”

He didn’t know if he was referring to her insinuation that he was old - which of course, mentally he was older, but physically he was half a decade younger than her - or that she called him Quaritch. When the surname fell from her lips, he couldn’t help but cringe. He much preferred when she used his first name, much more intimate and reserved.

“What we doin’, Colonel?” Lyle asked.

Jiniraa’s stomach was in knots as Miles slowly pushed himself over the log. He reached back and grabbed the elongated braid, slowly bringing it over his shoulder as he approached the closest ikran

Spider laughed once more, moving to follow Miles, “this is gonna be good.”

“Alright, move up,” Lyle commanded the rest of the group. The rest of the Recoms continued to have their rifles drawn as they ushered towards the Colonel in a quick procession. Lyle tucked himself behind a smaller rock, giving him an open line of fire towards the banshees if needed. Zdinarsk and Prager followed the Corporal while Ja, Mansk, and Lopez hung back.

Jiniraa kept Spider behind her, ready to push the human towards Lyle if a situation were to occur.

Miles grit his teeth as the closest banshee rose up on his hind legs, extending his wings in a territorial and threatening display. He was stunning - primarily indigo and tan with bright orange splashed in intricate patterns. His chest was pale, almost bone gray and lacking much color, but everyone was able to see just how colorful he was as he returned to the ground. His topside was coated in shades of red, orange, and lighter shades of blue.

Miles was light on his feet, bouncing around as he approached the ikran - almost like a boxer in the fighting ring, ready to see who would dare to make the first move. “It’s you and me, cupcake,” Miles grit out. It’s no surprise he would choose a nickname like that right away.

The ikran hissed and bared its teeth and Miles returned the favor. His hiss was more throaty and unnatural compared to other Na’vi. She’d never heard him try to make that noise, which was probably why it came out so awkward. Thus, their deadly dance had begun. The ikran had chosen Miles.

He was quick to snap his jaw towards the Recom, to which Miles swiftly delivered a punch to the side of the creature’s face. Of course he would. Miles quickly dogged as the ikran swung its large head, trying to take a chunk out of Miles. He dropped to the ground, swifty moving under its muscular neck before launching himself onto its back.

His legs locked together on the underside of the creature's neck, trying to secure him to its body, but it was a futile attempt as the ikran beat its powerful wings twice before dropping back down. The momentum suspended Miles in the air for a second before he came crashing down onto his previous position, momentarily knocking the air out of his chest.

Jiniraa flinches from the impact, but Spider laughed out as the ikran continued to snap its jaw, “did I mention you’re supposed to tie the mouth shut first?”

“Thanks a lot, kid,” Miles yelled right back. He wanted to curse at the teenager, but he didn’t have much time to react before the creature threw its head back, smacking Miles in the face.

“Miles, make the bond!” Jiniraa yelled out, growing increasingly anxious as the fighting went on.

“I’m tryin’!”

The ikran trashed under Miles, slowly inching them closer to the cliff edge. Everyone was helpless as the ikran took a dive off the side of the cliff, taking Miles with him as he clung to its neck.

“Miles!” Jiniraa screamed out, throat raw in terror.

“Move up! Move up!” Lyle commanded, quickly pushing forward.

Jiniraa was the first to make it to the side of the cliff, searching for Miles. She watched him hanging onto the ikran by its dual queues as he disappeared into the mist. She could hear his screaming fading away, but it was impossible to see him through the thick clouds. She dropped to her knees, practically hanging off the side of the cliff. Maybe if she strained her eyes or ears just a little bit more he’d be able to find any proof he was still alive.

Spider came up behind her, grabbing onto her shoulder to pull her back from the edge. A rock shifted under her hand and fell down, demonstrating just how dangerous her current position was

“Can you see him?” Lyle asked, peering over Jiniraa’s shoulder as he looked over the edge as well.

Zdinarsk joined Spider and pulled Jiniraa away from the cliff, watching as she fell onto her haunches. She was going completely numb - the longer she went without hearing Miles, the less hope she had that he would survive.

The Recoms all held their breaths as well. They should’ve been upset with their pair of guides - afterall, they were the ones who brought them to this place. The thought that Jiniraa and Spider were responsible for the Colonel’s death didn’t sit right with anyone.

After a minute, Jiniraa knew the Colonel wouldn’t be coming back. He was probably a puddle of blood, bones, and organs on the forest floor right now. No one could ever survive a drop from this high. Jiniraa sat on the floor, her hand over her mouth in an attempt to suppress the sobs that were building up in her throat. She didn’t try to stop the tears from flowing, but she wouldn’t allow her body to produce any sounds.

Spider remained at the cliff's edge, continuously scanning for any sign of the Colonel. Everyone else had moved inward, automatically looking to Lyle for their next course of action. He was the second-in-command after all and if Miles was MIA, Lyle was now the highest ranking person in the group. Lyle’s stomach was weighed down like a stack of stones - he knew he was capable of leading, but it didn’t feel right to do so at the expense of the Colonel.

The same man who lived for decades as a human on the deadly moon. The same man who he followed around, hanging onto his every word. The same man who he’s looked up to since the day his boots hit Pandoran soil. The same man who had a woman crying out for him just a few feet away. It didn’t feel right. It was cruel. Pandora was cruel.

“Alright, let’s go. We’re Oscar Mike. C’mon,” Lyle commanded. Slowly, everyone began moving past the Corporal with heads hanging low. Lyle laid a comforting hand on Ja as he walked by, seeing a hint of tears gathering in the Recoms eyes. They slowly moved to leave, heads hung as they accepted the second death of Colonel Miles Quaritch.

Spider gave the sky below one final look before turning around and reaching down to Jiniraa. She didn’t hear a word Lyle had just said, unable to process anything as she blankly stared ahead. She felt Spider’s small hand wrap around her bicep, but couldn’t hear the words he was producing.

“Let’s go. We’re out of here.” Lyle’s first phrase was harsh enough to grab the pair’s attention. He watched Jiniraa jump as she snapped back into reality. She slowly turned around, still firmly planted on the ground. Her lip quivered ever so slightly as Lyle finished his statement, a little softer than how he began.

No one expected to hear the whooshing of ikran wings come up behind them. Prager and Mansk snapped into action, training their weapons towards the origin of the sound. Everyone else remained frozen as the Colonel called out.

His triumphant holler graced everyone’s ears, confirming they were not hallucinating and he actually was here - alive and well. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and Jiniraa’s eyes fought to take it all in to internalize the memory so she would never forget it.

“Yeah! That’s right!” He called out, raising a first in the air to show how he tamed the mighty beast beneath his legs. The somber atmosphere was gone instantly as the Recoms began to celebrate the Colonel. The younger ones jumped around, hooting and hollering - Lopez jumped excitedly with his arms extended in the air and Ja pumped his rifle in the air.

“Yeah, Colonel! Get some!” Lyle yelled as the rest of the unit continued to celebrate. Jiniraa hadn’t moved from her previous position quite yet, not entirely convinced he was real.

“Who’s up next?” He challenged, swooping over the Recom’s heads, making all of them hit the deck. The close call didn’t make their celebration falter in the slightest. Miles continued in his victory lap before landing a few yards away from the group. He slid off, patting at the neck of his ikran and disconnecting their queues. Miles was ecstatic as he turned around, beaming towards the group.

Jiniraa rose from her seated position and darted towards the Colonel, launching herself at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He staggered back, slightly overtaken by the impact, but wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her pressed against him.

“Is this my congratulations?” He smirked down at her, exuding cockiness as his body buzzed with excitement. He fully expected her to slap his chest at the comment, but she didn’t. Instead, he could hear her sniffles as she pressed into his neck. “What happened?”

Jiniraa removed her head from his neck, bringing him face to face with her tear-stained features. Lashes clumped together and damp. A residual redness making her eyes darker than usual. Flushed cheeks and shaking lips.

“Baby?”

Jiniraa then slapped him on the chest. It wasn’t powerful by any means, she clearly wasn’t trying to hurt him, “what happened? What happened!? Don’t ever do that again.”

“Do what?” Miles was almost offended by her pathetic little slap. Afterall, he taught her better than that. He knew what she was going to say. He didn’t need her to utter the words to confirm his guess, but for his sanity he needed to hear her say it. Needed her to vocalize how she cared about him.

“Scare me like that,” her words were muffled as she buried her face back into his vest.

“I promise.” Miles declared. Jiniraa loosened her grip around Miles neck, sliding against his body as her feet made contact with the ground once more. He didn’t ease up at all, keeping his one arm trained around the small of her waist.

“You’ve been promising a lot recently.”

Miles rolled his eyes, nudging her to walk back towards the group. He followed close behind as his hand ghosted her back to remind her of his presence. Once they stopped, she lent back, allowing his palm to make direct rather than indirect contact. His eyes flicked down for a moment, confirming that she moved on purpose, she wanted to feel his comforting hand against her skin.

Lyle was the first to come up, already laughing with one hand extended. Miles joined in the mini celebration, locking his arm around the Corporal’s forearm as they clapped each other on the back. “He lives!”

“Not too bad, old man,” Spider called out, trying to hide the smile on his face.

Miles’ ears flattened as his eyes narrowed and tail swished, “don’t call me old.”

Jiniraa clicked her tongue and lightly smacked a hand against Miles’ arm, “be nice.”

She lent into Miles' side, feeling his hand boldly wrap around her waist and settle on her hip, not caring about the group watching them. They all knew what was up, so there was no point in trying to hide it. If he could trust them with his life, they could be trusted with this.

Miles would never admit to it, but he was scared shitless as he fell through the sky and grabbed onto the ikran like his life depended on it. Well, his life did depend on it. If he died trying to take that fucking ikran, he would be abandoning the entire team. He would abandon Spider, the boy he was just starting to make headway with. Most of all, he would abandon Jiniraa, the woman who he just started to accept his feelings for. His grip tightened on her waist - if he got any rougher, he would be leaving imprints in her flesh.

“Well,” Miles boomed as Cupcake roared in the background, “who’s up next?!”

Next: Fourteen - Your Fault

●●●

its 3am est and i have my history of medcine class at 8am. victorian surgery on three and a half hours of sleep here i come <3

i know i keep saying this, but i have a lot planned for the next three chapters. i keep wanting to rush into it and get to the exciting stuff, but it's important to lay the scene and build everyone up before delving into the nasty enjoyable things

taglist - let me know if you'd like to be added

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

@oceandeepthirst2

@bolggerist

@mxddymay

@ttreader

@luciddasher

@sofiebstar

@azilove

@fairycaitlin

@graysonmalik2550

@quaritchxx

58 notes · View notes

ratasum · 7 months ago

Note

For the commanders and everyone else you want: 5 and (profession-specific) 10

GW2 Profession Ask

5. Is there anything atypical about their usage of their profession? If so, what?

Vezz, up until he died to Balthazar, used his magic to power his prosthesis. A prosthesis which actually was his own leg that had been blown off in a lab accident. It wasn't particularly attractive, and he usually would stuff sweet smelling herbs into the leg of his pants, but it worked in a pinch.

Rosie has a nontraditional legend! She channels the legendary martyr, her own great-grandfather's one time ally, Councilor Macha. This happened when she almost died drowning in a riptide at twelve years old. Macha has been a constant presence in her mind ever since that day, and as a result, she often gets mistaken for a mesmer.

Rhenn's engineer skills are heavily tied into his elite profession as a scrapper. Because of the arcane power crystals his father surgically implanted into his body, he's able to interface with asuran technology by touch alone, and that allows him a greater range of skill than most traditional engineers. Everything he uses either he or his father built.

Surprisingly, Praxxi doesn't deviate much from her skills as a guardian. She's very traditional in that way, though part of that is sort of an "f you" to her mother.

(The rest go under a cut!)

10. (Guardian) What’s their fighting style like? (ranged, defensive, aggressive, etc)

Praxxi much prefers a ranged approach, keeping people at a distance from her so she can more effectively keep her eyes on the field in a fight. Shouts and traps are her mainstays, and she keeps a bow on hand at all times to ensure she can handle threats before they get too close to her.

10. (Revenant) What’s their relationship with the legends they channel, be-it cooperative or adversarial?

The only legend Rosie channels is Macha, and they have a pretty good relationship. Macha often comments on how much like her great grandfather Rosie actually is, much to Rosie's occasional frustration. Still, Macha is very encouraging, and it's nice to hear stories of her family, even

10. (Engineer) What’s the biggest engineering accident they’ve had?

Trying to interface with old asuran technology in Rata Novus. He gave himself quite a nasty shock that sent him tumbling back head over heels several feet before he smacked into the wall. He lets Taimi handle dealing with old technology now. Doesn't want to risk another jolt like that.

10. (Necromancer) Has their necromancy impacted their feelings on death and loss at all?

Answered here!

#oc asks #keeper vezz #rosie marriner #technomancer rhenn #aerologist praxxi

2 notes · View notes

sunset-peril · 2 years ago

Text

Ashes Remain - Chapter Twelve - The Cykesquills

Clay… was gone.

He was gone, and Athena was missing.

He was able to hold himself together until they arrived at the Cosmos Space Center, but fell apart just outside of Boarding Lounge One.

He just couldn’t do it yet. He needed Clay to find Athena, and Athena to accept Clay’s fate.

Mr. Wright had gone in a while back to take preliminary pictures for the police as a bargaining chip for an initial investigation. Any non-police involved in the case would be allowed to investigate that afternoon, but everything was marked off in yellow tape now.

While he was sitting there, begging himself to be fine just long enough to say goodbye to his best friend, Detective Dunn returned to report none of the people evacuated to the shelter were Athena.

He couldn’t start over again. He couldn’t be alone again. Just when he’d finally realized his dream of being a defense attorney, of being like the great Phoenix Wright; just when he’d begun to settle into adulthood from all the turmoil his younger years brought, life had to take his two most loved ones away.

“Apollo? The police have to take him now, so uh, if there’s anything you’d like to say…”

“Thank you, Mr. Wright. Just let me get up…”

~~~~

December 15th, 2027

11:00am

GYAXA Front Gate

~~~~

Everything was in shambles. The detectives, the Wright Anything Agency, the Cosmos Space Center… They were all piles of ash now. To hear a suspect had already been arrested, and that statements were already being taken was shocking despite such timeliness being common for the police. Apollo wanted to meet the suspect, but was thankful they were still in questioning. No more until he’d processed everything else. He’d decided to walk around just outside the police tape, and that’s when he heard what sounded like a crash in the bushes. “Detective? I think there’s something in the brush over here. Mind if I take a look?”

“Sure. Let me know if you find anything. Need to stay behind the tape here. Fulbright’s in charge of the inside, I’m expected to keep things secure out here.”

Whatever was in there, it couldn’t make the day any worse. Unless it was Athena’s dead body. But he’d just heard the crash. If it was her, she couldn’t be dead yet, right?

“Okay… Here comes Justice.”

He took a few steps into the bushes, then heard more rustling noises up ahead. Once he pinpointed which bushes they were coming from, he hopped over and pulled them back. “Athena!”

Her eyelids fluttered open, but stopped halfway up her eyes. Her head was thrown back by something, and her lower body seemed limp. He saw the unfocus in her eyes, yet still expected a response from her. “Athena! Can you hear me?!” In one leap, he hopped the bushes and began to check her over. Once she was in his arms, he felt her pull into his figure with a dropping grip and a shuddering body. “It’s okay, Thena, I’ve got you.” Aside from the limpness in her back, nothing seemed abnormal. Her shaking was called for, considering the events of the past day. Then, he began to shake as well, and in her presence, everything came rushing through. “Clay’s dead, Athena, they just found his body in the boarding lounge. And where were you? We’ve been so worried! Oh, I couldn’t keep from worrying you were gone too!” He buried his face into her shoulder to stop his words.

After enough time passed to soothe himself, a voice was heard from outside the brush. “Mr. Justice? You didn’t get eaten did you?”

“Detective Dunn! Over here! I’ve found her!”

“Oh!” She was right by his side. “Oh, goodness! Doctor Cykes, can you hear us?”

They received a weak nod before her eyes rolled back and her head dipped into Apollo’s chest.

“Poor thing, I wonder how long she’s been out here? She’s probably dehydrated.” Dunn rubbed Athena’s shoulder. “You’re going home.”

"Something’s wrong with her… her back is so limp. I wonder if she took a blow."

"Okay… let's get her inside. We'll give her a drink and have a doctor check her over."

Apollo carefully stood up and Dunn helped him get Athena settled in his arms. Initially, she just curled up and snuggled on his shoulder, but when Wright called out in relief, she raised her head and began leaning out towards their boss.

"Careful. I don't want you falling." Apollo pressed her back towards his shoulder.

"There's a sofa just outside the Space Museum we can lay her on. Follow me, Mr. Justice." While they walked, Detective Dunn phoned for the GYAXA medical staff and had her partner bring a bottle of water from a nearby vending machine.

"Ah, there she is. I'm glad to know she's safe and will be going home. Softens the blow of this tragedy here, just a little."

"Mr. Justice, this is my partner, Detective Chiva. Amy, this is Mr. Justice."

"Thank you for everything… with Athena… and Clay…"

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss."

"Thank you…"

Athena nudged him with a now empty bottle. "More please." Her voice was still a raspy whisper.

"You sucked that dry, Cykes." He kissed her head. "I'll get you another in a second. You have to have your emergency dose first."

"Okay…" She gingerly stretched her closest arm out while Apollo set the small backpack he'd been carrying around down and carefully dug through the contents.

"Ah, it's a medical bag. I had been wondering why you brought such a bag all the way out here."

"Yeah." He took out a sealed alcoholic swab and a sealed pre-filled syringe. "Sorry your 'welcome home' is me sticking your arm, tiger."

"You do what you have to."

Without much more grandeur, the dose was administered. "There." He kissed her temple. "Three more, Thena."

"I think you're at a higher risk of needing one than I am."

He chuckled. "I don't get one, even if I could use it." He pulled a small biohazard box out and put the used needle inside.

"Thank you, Pollo."

"Of course."

"I'll grab another water for her, Mr. Justice."

"Thank you, Detective Chiva."

"Detective Dunn? What do you need me for?"

"This young lady was the missing woman we've been searching for over here. I wanted to know if you'd look her over before I sent her home.

"Of course. I'm glad you're found-" The doctor looked more closely at Athena. "P-Princess? …Is that really you, Athena?"

Apollo held her closer, as if she softened some kind of sting that the doctor brought. “Yes, it’s her.”

“You’ve been gone so long… yet you still look the same.”

“She’s actually been in the country for a while. They found her in Europe a year ago, I think.”

“Oh really? That’s quite a ways off…” Her voice rolled into a mumble. “no wonder it took so long to find her…”

“She seems just fine… except her back’s really limp… I just want to make sure she doesn’t have some sort of spinal injury. Not… paralyzed or anything.”

“Of course, let me see her.”

Apollo tried to stand and move from the doctor’s way, but Athena gripped his leg and seemed quite willing to be dragged across the Space Center. “Noo, Apollooo.”

“Hey, lemme go, Athena. I’m just getting out of the way.”

“Nooo.”

“Hey, what gives? You’re usually not this clingy.” He scrubbed her forehead, then bent down beside. “It’s okay. She’s not going to hurt you. I won’t let her. But you’ve gotta let her look. If something’s wrong…” As he placed a quick kiss on her forehead, hot tears began to leak from his eyes. “You’ve still got so much life left… I can’t let it be taken from you too.”

With big blue eyes, she looked from him to the older woman. It wasn’t her that was frightening, but an ever-sinking feeling that continued to grow inside her. Ever since she could remember, pinpointing feelings had always come naturally. She knew where Apollo’s feelings were coming from, she could pinpoint the emotions of the two detectives standing beside, waiting almost impatiently to wrap up her case and move to other matters… just like every other time.

She’d failed them, failed to do the tasks she’d been assigned… but she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t let them take her.

Where was this feeling coming from? She couldn’t place it, it overwhelmed her. It came from all sides, and all she could do was bear its brunt; let it rush over her and hope she came back up. Apollo was sinking, and she was too. She had to stay afloat, because it’s ever clear he couldn’t. This was just another boat that only she could stop from sinking, but she was just… so tired…

“Here, I think you’re overwhelmed, and this will help with all the colors.” That doctor draped a fabric cloth over her face, she couldn’t sense anything else until pressure came running through her lower back. “Did you see her move her foot just now? She’s got enough sensation for a reflex. Maybe she just tripped and her back gave out. Let me get a clos-..."

“W-what? What is it?”

"O-oh… Mr. Justice, sir, detectives… you may want to see this…"

It knocked the air out of his lungs. Her spine… It was silver.

Athena has a silver spine?!

The detectives gasped as well, and Detective Chiva began scribbling something on her notepad like her life depended on it.

“These scars." That was the first thing the doctor was able to say. "There’s so many. Most of them look like she got in a bad fight or two, but these here, they seem surgical. All these little ones surround this larger scar just on the left of the spine… and it obviously wasn't your typical spinal surgery. Seems like she had a removal surgery, maybe a cyst or a foreign body, before her spine itself was completely replaced. These little ones… I’d almost say she had a bad cyst. Looks like someone was trying to drain it by creating small punctures. Mr. Justice, are you aware of which part of Europe she was found in?”

“Exactly where? No, but I do know she stayed with a shelter in Spain while they waited for her visa.”

“Ah, yes. Spain is a much poorer part of the Union, especially as far as non-profits are concerned, and these scars seem indicative of your typical lower-income emergency surgery. She was probably on the waiting list for an operation, and the smaller cuts were done to keep an infection under control. But this…” She slid her hand down Athena’s startling secret. "This is experimental. A lower-income region wouldn't have the material for it, much less the surgeons… Berlin, Germany, is the only place I know of where the procedure is even legal, and even there it is under great backlash."

“Athena?” He picked up the fabric, and she took more than a few blinks to focus on him. “Could you tell us about the scars on your back? A-about your surgery?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She pulled the fabric back down.

“I see. Well, Mr. Justice, detectives, that’s really all I could tell you without her willing to share. I believe her back just slipped. There’s no bruising, no swelling around the artificial areas of the spine, and she still has feeling in her back and legs. She should be able to get back up after some rest.”

“Thank you… I’ll keep an eye on her. Detective Dunn, thank you for helping us find her.”

~~~~

December 15, 2027

1:30pm

Boarding Lounge Number 1 - Cosmos Space Center - Third Floor

~~~~

“You’re sure you can handle this, Pollo?”

“I have to. I need to make sure whoever did this to him…”

He didn’t resist when she cupped his cheek for a calming kiss, but she didn’t remove the deepening pit in his stomach. Everything felt so wrong, so dark.

He steeled his resolve there. Whoever killed Clay, whoever did it, was going down. He would not let them get away, no matter how he’d felt about them before. They were a killer, and they took his best friend away.

“Apollo! Restez concentré!”

“Huh? Hey, how come you get to snip at me when I zone out, but I don’t get to snip at you?”

She pointed back at herself, tossing her huge ponytail for emphasis. “Disabled,” then pointed at him “not disabled.”

“Athena.”

“I’m kidding, Apollo. You know how I feel about people who do that. You just had a bit of a spiral-y vibe going on there. When I spiral, I like to be snapped out of it. Figured you would too.”

“Ah. Yeah, that did help.”

“See! Psychology!”

“Okay, okay, don’t get ahead of yourself.” Scratching his arm, he glanced over the case outline in his hand. “Where should we get started?”

“I always like to start with the body’s location, then spread out from there! But, uh, I’m open to starting somewhere else. I know this is kind of a sour watermelon for you.”

“A what?”

“A sour watermelon.”

“A sour watermelon?”

“Yeah, sour- oh, did I mess the idiom up again?”

He found himself laughing. “Yeah, just a little bit. It’s ‘a sore spot,’ Athena, not ‘sour-’ oh my gosh.”

“Heheh, oops. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You haven’t even been in the country a year yet. I’m proud of you for trying, and thanks for the laugh. I needed that.”

“You’re welcome! Now let’s get investigating!”

~~~~

Athena was lying.

She was lying about the investigation.

But why would she need to lie?

What was the fear in her eyes for, when he asked that question?

Why did his bracelet assault his wrist as all her tells fired in succession?

What caused her to abandon logic as she lied to his face?

Why did she lie about the knife that took Clay’s life?

What did she know?

Why did she know?

And how could he move forward with her right at his side?

She’d wandered off for the time being, as Athena typically does. After her disappearing act the night before, the detectives were stunned that he let her just walk off. However, with what occurred between them over the outline of Clay’s body, he hated to say it, but he needed more distance from her.

Of course, he had every intention of going and finding her sooner rather than later. But perhaps he should've waited just a bit longer, perhaps if he had, he would've been blind to the conversation in the ever-foreboding robotics lab.

“Your status as princess does not exempt you.” It was an older woman’s voice, rasped with anger. “Neither does your little disappearing act.”

He’d been in this situation before, where he or Mr. Wright stumble upon suspects arguing about matters. The best thing to do was try and at least stay out of sight; gather the information. If things started getting too out of hand, he’d leave. But these types of encounters have been critical information more often than not.

“Disappearing act?” A-Athena? “You insult me.” She sneered her remark back at the older woman, he hadn’t heard such malice since he fought Kristoph that one last time.

“I thought many things when I was told you’d become a doctor. But that’s just an arbitrary title, isn’t it? You don’t care.”

“No. You don’t care.”

“I amend my statement. You don’t care of anyone but yourself. A selfish little princess, feeding from the efforts of her white knights, taking the little such peasants have.

“Aura!”

Aura? Athena’s mother-not-mother-aunt-not-aunt-relative-not-relative?

“Ha! You think your words scare me? I’m a government employee. Words don’t scare. But for an emotional twit like yourself? They’re a critical blow.”

“You have no idea what I’ve seen! What I’ve done; what's been forced upon me, because of this!”

An objection-worthy desk slam startled Apollo’s brain to produce thoughts. They raced through, threatening to derail second after second. What had Athena seen? What did she do? An emergency message rang throughout him. No… no, no, no!

“Oh really, princess? What are these things you’ve seen and done and been victim to, these things somehow verifying that you really and truly do care about anyone but yourself. Something that exempts you from the ropes you so stupidly forgot to cut from your ankles, the blood on your hands you forgot to wash away! Confess! Confess here and now! What is it, princess?! What makes your life more important than Starbuck’s?!”

He didn’t like where this was going. He-

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch someone die?! To die like that?! To be silent with it all, because you know exactly what they’ll do to you if anyone ever tells?! Are you taking someone else’s blood to your grave?! Are you, Aura Blackquill?!”

He heard shoving, then a large mass collided with something steel and heavy. They both screamed, slinging profanities towards the other as quickly as possible. If he went in, they probably wouldn’t notice, but he wanted out. He couldn’t be laid low just before Clay’s trial, he just couldn’t.

Especially because he knew Athena couldn’t take his place.

3 notes · View notes

iturbide · 2 years ago

Note

ok for the "Hubert's dad was snatched by TWSITD" theory (i first found this on a Reddit post by u/CyberActors15)

so basically the question is. why does Hubert's dad help with the Insurrection? House Vestra has been loyal to House Hresvelg for generations, and Hubert was raised to be loyal to Edelgard. i would presume the same applies for his father. if the former Marquis Vestra was so loyal to House Hresvelg, why would he participate in the Insurrection? that just seems... odd. had Hubert's dad taught his son to NOT follow House Vestra's tradition, that would've been a lot less suspicious, at least to me, ironically enough, because that would have reinforced an idea that Vestra Sr. genuinely had a problem with House Hresvelg.

it's been shown that characters who learn dark magic are connected to the Shitters (as i not so affectionately call TWSITD). without this theory, Hubert's connection to them seems almost... tangential compared to the other characters (Edelgard, Hapi, and Lys were all experimented on; meanwhile, Hubert only has connection to Edelgard, who has a connection to TWSITD). yes, it's possible Hubert only started learning dark magic after working with them, but considering how proficient he seems to be, i'm tempted to say he might have a bit more of a history with it than we know of.

the only thing that kind of throws a wrench in this is Hubert and Hanneman's support chain

You know as I was reading this I was trying to remember which support Hubert had that talked about his dad's potential motivations for joining the Insurrection and you're right it was Hanneman that's what I was thinking of

It's definitely an interesting theory with some fascinating potential! But I don't think I buy into it, myself, for a few reasons. First and foremost: we've never seen the Twisted place multiple agents in the same arena. Cornelia was the lone agent working in Faerghus; Solon, using the guise of Tomas, was the lone agent working under Rhea's nose in Garreg Mach prior to the course of events in the game; and although they placed Kronya in the monastery a bit early, having her 'rescued' with Flayn, she becomes the sole agent working there a month later after Solon departs following events at Remire (and notably, this is in the immediate lead-up to Edelgard's attack at the end of the year -- one month of overlap between agents is frankly shocking when things are moving this fast). If they already managed to take Hubert's father, why wouldn't he be the one to introduce Duke Aegir to the rest of the Twisted organization and hook him on the Crest of Flames experiment? Why did a second agent, taking the guise of Volkhard von Arundel, need to come in to make that play? Given how sparing they are with their personnel resources, it doesn't track for me: von Vestra would have been in a key position of trust at the Emperor's side, given the link between his family and the Hresvelgs, so if he had been a Twisted agent they arguably wouldn't have needed to replace Arundel.

I think, instead, they recognized that Volkhard was the better candidate to switch -- someone who Edelgard trusted, and who could therefore extract her from the Kingdom once the Insurrection ended. von Vestra, despite his position, didn't have that kind of access -- and while his son might, his loyalty was to Edelgard alone even at that age: they couldn't trust that he would actually bring her back to the Empire for use in the experiment, rather than just staying in the Kingdom with her once they'd been reunited.

Which actually does bring me back around to that support with Hanneman. Because it's not just that Support that makes me think von Vestra was never bodyswapped: it's also Hubert's Support chain with Edelgard. He mentions that when her uncle spirited her off to Faerghus, he was absolutely bereft:

The sensation of loss that overcame me on that day defies all description. It was as horrific as if I'd lost all my limbs. I left the city in a mad rush to rescue you. My father sent soldiers to capture me. I fought them off for three days, but they did finally manage it. Of course, I was only ten. I never would've reached Fhirdiad.

By his own admission, his father sent men out after him when he ran off to try and catch up with Edelgard and her uncle -- and he spent three days, at the age of ten, fighting them off in his attempt to reach her. If his dad had already been replaced at that point, he didn't need to put in that much effort to get Hubert back: Hubert's proven loyalty to Edelgard made him a liability, since he would almost certainly oppose their designs, and they couldn't bring him to their side without straight-up brainwashing him (which clearly had not happened); and if his dad hadn't been replaced yet but was later...again, why would they let Hubert go unchecked, knowing so intimately that he was very likely going to become a problem? Hubert's presence at Edelgard's side implies to me that the Twisted didn't know how big an issue he would be: they underestimated him to their own detriment because they weren't aware of how deep his loyalty ran, which essentially precludes the notion that they had an agent in his House, since otherwise they'd recognize him for the problem he was.

(For me personally, Hubert's dark magic proficiency never seemed suspect: we know that he's Edelgard's right-hand man, and he's at this point intimately familiar with the Twisted. Unlike the other names on that list, Hubert is still the only one who hadn't been subjected to experimentation; on top of that, it's very doubtful that his dad would have been swapped out before the Insurrection had begun to foment, since a position in Adrestia wasn't advantageous to them until that point, meaning that he still had less time than Lysithea to develop the skill while being arguably more proficient with it than Edelgard, who chose a physical class over a magical one. Your list also omits Jeritza, who also learns a Dark Magic spell despite him not being experimented on directly. Personally I think that Hubert is just a proficient mage and threw himself into Dark Magic study once Edelgard made him aware of the Twisted: he's strategically-minded enough that he probably believed 'know thine enemy' applied to their magic as much as everything else.)

All this to say that I actually do think there's a valid reason for Marquis von Vestra joining the Insurrection after a thousand years of loyalty to the Imperial Lineage -- and that's him realizing what it's done to his son. Hubert admits to Edelgard that his very first memory of their time together was when she was injured, and his father scolded him for his negligence:

From the age of six, he'd been groomed to be Edelgard's protector, told to put his very life on the line for her sake, which is likely expected of the von Vestras...once they reach adulthood. Hubert's father was trying to impart a lesson early regarding what his role as Edelgard's servant was -- but then the Insurrection began, Arundel vanished with Edelgard, and his son rushed out of the city after her, heedless of his own life and fighting his father's men for three days because of the lesson his father imparted on him. However much Hubert loathes his father in the present, the feeling was not necessarily mutual -- and having come so close to losing his eldest child, only ten years old, to a bond of servitude...people change. Sometimes it takes an upheaval for people to question the way things have always been. But I tend to think that in that moment, seeing his son dragged back to Enbarr, probably still trying to fight despite barely sleeping or eating for three days in his desperation to reach Edelgard and fulfill his duty...he realized that the duty he'd given his son was a yoke upon his neck, crushing the person he might otherwise have been. And in that moment, he wondered if there might be a better existence for his son, for his other children -- not bound as servants to the Imperial lineage, erasing their lives and their children's lives so that the Emperor and his issue could fulfill their own...but able to become their own people, defined by their own interests.

Hubert: My earliest memory of you is of when you were injured. I recall being scolded most sternly by my father. "You are Lady Edelgard's servant!" he said. "You must protect her with your life!"

Edelgard: I had no idea. But House Vestra has served House Hresvelg for generations... Given that, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

Hubert: Indeed. After that, I made certain to accompany you wherever you went.

I tend to think that von Vestra betrayed his emperor for the chance giving his children a better life: one where they no longer had to define themselves solely by the Hresvelg they served. But in Hubert's case, it was too late -- he'd taken to heart the lesson that Edelgard's life outweighs his own four years prior at the tender age of six, and as such his father's betrayal of the Emperor's family became tantamount to a betrayal of his own.

#answered #anonymous #fire emblem: three houses #i have a lot of thoughts about hubert #this isn't even getting into my pet headcanon #that he was injured trying to fight off his father's men #and once he was home kept worrying at the wound #not realizing it because he was trying to come up with a new plan #to get out and find edelgard #and in the end it scarred horribly #hence why he wears his hair like that #the scar is on his face and edelgard recoiled on sight of it #(in her defense she was twelve at most it shocked her)#so he grew his hair out on that side so she wouldn't have to see it

18 notes · View notes

rouecentric · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! Idk if the request is open can I request who made me a princess with sister atty and father claude with reader who want to go home to her world, so she used amnesia spell on them both thank you ❤

Requests will always be open unless stated otherwise on my pinned post, hope you enjoy reading this!

fem/fem aligned!reader

TW: MENTIONS OF COMITTING SUICIDE, BEING CONFINED

-You were tired, angry and hurt. I mean, who wouldn't if anyone was in your place? Being a princess would be a dream to a lot of people, but becoming a princess in your next life with a possesive father and sister, no one even knew you neither the fact that the emperor had a child other than Athanasia

-Being confined in the palace without being able to go outside by your father, the emperor of the Obelian empire, can do harm to you, both physically and mentally

-You didn't even belong to this world, and somewhat neither did your "sister", too

-So, as the spoiled and beloved daughter of emperor Claude de alger Obelia who won't get married and doesn't have to go to any classes she doesn't like, you spent most of your days in the imperial library and taking magic classes, trying to find a way to be able to induce extremely strong amnesia or open up a portal to another world

-Day by day, your magic grew stronger and your knowledge on various kinds of magic increased, mastering all kinds of magic, until you found out about dark magic, a dangerous and forbidden form of magic made illegal by the Obelian law, so finding two entire bookshelves about dark magic in a hidden corner in the imperial library is shocking

-You decided to enchant a diary that had a lock and key to have more and more pages everytime you finish writing a page, but it never grows bigger, making it an infinite diary

-You wrote down everything there was in the books about black magic instead of taking the books, deciding that it was dangerous and risky if someone finds them in your bedroom, and so you studied holed up in youe room every second when you had free time from being with your family

-Claude and Athanasia were happy that you found something you loved, supporting you in every way they could, hell, Claude even offered to teach you things he knew! (you begrudingly accepted after realising he had more experience with using magic as a whole)

-When you found out it was impossible to go back to your world as your original body died in that world, you cried for twelve days and silently grieved for twenty days, hesitantly agreeing with yourself to keep yourself in this world instead of just ending your own life

-You put your anger and sadness into studying and mastering every single magic there was to get away from your current family, even being better at magic than Lucas, who was the magician of the Black Tower

-You learnt dark magic so efficiently and mastered it so well, that whenever you now used it, it never has any side effects!

-With your plan of mastering dark magic was completed and you casted magic to permanently change your appearance/eyes, it was now time to take your things and then cast magic on everyone in the palace which consisted of Claude, Athanasia, Lily, Lucas, Felix, Jeanette, Ijekiel, and the staff that worked there

-Although it took up some of your energy and mana, you had enough to run to a place outside that didn't have strong defense magic and made a portal to a village just meters away from the capital so you could sell your stuff

-As promised, your magic worked really well, and everyone forgot who you were and that you even existed! But it had one minor side effect, you appeared in their dreams. Well- your physical appearance wasn't shown, instead, it was a mass of black fog forming a teenage girl's body and whenever you talked, your voice was staticy and glitchy, but not too much as they were able to understand what you were saying, but not being able to describe your voice and match it to a human's

The dream, or, well, memory, Athanasia had right now was weird.

She looked at the door infront of her, two knights standing outside and guarding it, ignoring the person(?) that was loudly hitting it and desperately screaming to let them out while footsteps were nearing her in the hallway.

"Don't worry, Athanasia, your sister is just acting bratty because she broke a rule I enforced for her, just give her time." her father, Claude, calmly announced, holding the younger person's shoulder.

"But [censored] is going to be hurt if she'll continue banging the door so harshly.." she pouted, looking back at the door.

'Why is the person's name censored? and sister? I don't have a sister. Unless this is an alternate universe of this world or dark magic was used on me..' she thought with a inwardly confused expression.

-after that, she had magic voluntarily used on her to stop those kinds of dreams as they were ruining her sleep

-While claude sometimes also had dreams like those, most of them were nicer, more.. docile, if you will

-In his dreams you were always quiet and were almost doll-like in his dreams, always shaking or nodding your head instead of vocally answering his questions

-Was it because of how he wanted you to act? More like a doll than a human being that he could nurture, care for and dress up? He and neither did you know, only the deepest and most twisted parts of his brain knew

-When you sold all of your belongings and bought commoners clothing with sanitary products and a bag for travelling that you enchanted that had infinite space, you headed to a small and quaint medium-sized village near the borders of the Obelian empire, with multiple forests, lakes and rivers, it definitely was the best place to reside in for the rest of your life, and if for some reason your magic wore off, you could always run away to another stronger empire

-The villagers welcomed you warmly and even pitied you for your made-up backstory, being a runaway servant from an abusive low-titled noble family

-The house you bought was nice and big enough for you, a two story building with a big backyard for farming and gardening, your bedroom being on the second floor with a balcony and bathroom, and in the first floor a small living room and kitchen

-Your job was fairly simple, a humble seamstress that sold clothing for cheap

-But with your rising paranoia that your family will find you and forcefully take you back, you casted multiple defensive barriers from different kinds of magic

-Although you're not able to go back to your world, this is most likely the best case scenario for you, the true happy ending for someone who deserves it.

534 notes · View notes

ficsforeren · 3 years ago

Text

The Last Song - Chapter 9

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader feat. Armin Arlert

Genre: Rockstar AU, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger has two personas, a charismatic lead vocal who has lost himself in fame, and a boy who struggles with depression, seeking for someone to bring him back to where he was twelve years ago. Where he only knew love in the form of your name.

Chapter Summary: Eren extends his stay in another country for a month, and you’re shrouded with nothing but loneliness. Desperate to have someone else to distract you from it, you seek comfort in Armin’s company.

Content Warnings: explicit sex (cunnilingus, blow job, fingering, hand job, car sex, dry humping, drunk sex, public sex, unprotected sex, one night stand, choking, treating women like objects, dub-con, corruption, face-sitting, sex toys, daddy kink, praise kink, slight degradation, etc), substance abuse (use of drugs, alcohol, tobacco), severe abandonment issues, childhood trauma, anxiety attacks, depression, adultery, physical abuse towards men and women, family issues, abusive parents, crude words, dark humor, mention of sexual assault/rape, harassment, car accident and child abuse.

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart (follow her on Twitter)

That night, you can’t sleep.

The digital clock on your phone screen shows that it’s a little bit past two in the morning and here you are, eyes wide open as you lie in your bed, your thoughts replaying the scenes you want nothing more than to forget.

The angry, nonsensical messages on your Instagram account have stopped coming, but you doubt it’s because they’re tired of you being ignorant of their venom-laced words. Within a day, three different users have swarmed your inbox with more messages you have ever received from someone in less than twelve hours. They’re all the same, telling you to keep your distance from Eren because they’re ‘worried’ that you’d put his career in jeopardy. No matter how much you try to ignore them, with the amount of hate you’re getting, they eventually get into your head. The initial reaction always felt like a hard punch in the gut, shocking and painful enough to make your stomach acid rose to your tongue. You did nothing wrong, you don’t know these people, and they certainly do not know the first thing about Eren. Yet, they talked like they had known him for years, voluntarily turning themselves into his first line of defense, treating you like you were the stranger who, in their words, whored yourself out to get his attention and be drenched with fame.

Talking would do you no good. They didn’t visit your inbox to have a friendly chat. They barged in there to vent out their anger, and they’d be happy the second they managed to hurt you. You will not give them the satisfaction.

So you blocked them, one by one, again and again. As expected, they created new accounts just to get their words delivered, even starting to put angry comments on the articles you wrote when they had nothing to do with Eren, Empire, or even rock music in general. You don’t want to feel so weak, but this causes you more distress than you’d like to admit. Frustrated, you’ve decided to put your account on private. Now, you can finally breathe.

Or so you thought.

Because once your eyes are closed, and your phone is silent, the turmoil inside your stomach only thrives harder. This time, it’s not triggered by a bunch of faceless strangers. It has taken a shape of a person. A beautiful model that you once adored and looked up to.

Mikasa Ackerman.

Why? Why does it have to be Mikasa Ackerman? There are million other girls in the world they could have chosen. You know it’s just business, and logically thinking, using her as their model is a great marketing strategy. She’s one of the hottest lingerie models in the industry right now, quickly rising in fame due to her exotic face and stunning body figure. The public loves her, adores how strong she is for being able to get over her traumatic past and now paving her way to success. Maybe Eren’s agency contacted her to get the attention they needed. Or maybe because they noticed how much she’d been talking about Eren in her interviews—how much of her fans are rooting for her to be with him and vice versa.

Though similar to what happened between him and Historia, right now it feels… different. The pain in your chest swells ten times larger than when you saw him kissing the blonde girl on the stage and maybe that’s because this time, you know, that their love isn’t completely fabricated. Mikasa likes him, in a way that’s borderline obsessive, even. One thing that assures you is how her love for him seems to be one-sided. Eren has stated more than once how he despised her though his reasons are still unclear to this day. But after what you witnessed in the video, it gets harder by the second to keep your faith in his words.

What if the reason he hates her now is because something happened between them in the past? You ponder. What if they were once together and now they’re just dealing with the aftermath of their break-up? What if Eren has moved on and she hasn’t? What if he only thought he’d moved on? What if the sparks are still there?

What if, what if, what if. So many questions yet no single answer. One thing for sure, Eren must have been one hell of an actor to be able to fake that amount of chemistry.

Oh, God. You drape your arm over your eyes, feeling you’re about to burst. You hate this. You hate feeling like this, and you loathe this side of yours. “Stop being jealous,” you scold yourself. “He’s not even your boyfriend.”

Just stop.

What should you do? Should you confess your feelings for him before it’s too late? What about his fans? His career? His rising popularity? What about the other Mikasas he’s going to kiss in the future? Can you handle that? No, can he handle that? Can he handle it when you’re being unreasonably jealous all the time? Can he stay calm when he sees his obsessive fans breaking your heart?

Your eyes grow hot, your lower lip still trembles no matter how hard you sink your teeth into it. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. This is not worth crying over.

Your phone rings, and it’s not singing the ringtone you’ve assigned to Eren’s number. It only chimes twice before it ends and you’re drowning in the silence of your room again. Frowning, you check on your screen.

Armin Arlert.

You take a moment to steady your pulsating heart, fingers rising to your face to wipe your tears away before they stain your cheeks. Why is he calling at two in the morning? Worried that something might have gone wrong, you decide to call him back. He picks up on the first ring.

“H-hello?” He greets. Even just by hearing his voice, you can already imagine how nervous he is.

“Hi, Armin.” Your voice still sounds a bit shaky so you clear your throat to conceal it. “Sorry, did you just call me?”

“I—” He panics. The sounds of sheets rustling in the background can be heard as he shifts his weight. “I did, but I didn’t mean to.”

“What?”

You can hear him taking a deep breath to keep himself composed. “Okay—this is going to sound pathetic but I—” There’s a dull sound that you can’t interpret until you hear him groaning.

“You okay there, Armin?”

“Yes—well, no—My phone just slipped.”

“Smacked you on the face?”

“Yeah.”

It’s two am and you find yourself holding back your laughter over something that you thought only happens in comedic movies. “Why are you so cute?” You say before you can think it through. You can feel your heart slowly returning to its normal size, the quivers in your fingertips have stopped.

“Please don’t call me cute. I am so socially awkward, it’s embarrassing.”

“A, you’re not embarrassing. B, I’m still gonna call you cute no matter how much you’ll complain so get used to it. You remind me of the dog I used to have back when I was a kid.”

“I reminded you of your dog?”

“Yeah. He’s dead now but—”

“I reminded you of your dead dog?”

The horror is clear in his voice, pulling a tiny peal of laughter to escape from the back of your throat. “Yes, but he was cute, and that’s my point.”

“Oh God,” he groans, which only makes you smile a little wider. He’s mumbling to himself as he strays away from his phone, and you press yours harder to your ear to catch his words. Faintly, you can hear him say, “My first time talking to a girl I like at two AM and she reminds me of her dead dog. Great.”

“Armin?”

He returns. “I’m—I’m here.”

“Relax, okay? It’s not like I’m going to call the cops on you for calling me at this hour.”

“I know.” He sighs, sounding visibly upset and mortified. “I was trying to write you a text but I panicked, tapped the wrong button, and ended up calling you. I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to bother you at this hour, I swear.”

You blink twice, taking a moment to process his words before you burst out laughing. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Sadly, I am.” You can imagine him pouting. “I’m sorry for being so dumb.”

“No, it’s…” You cover your lips with your fingers. “It’s cute.”

“Like your dead dog?”

Your heart warms. The heavy cloud that surrounds your heart over the thoughts of Eren sharing kisses with another woman is still there and you’re certain it’s not going to vanish anytime soon, but Armin manages to divert your attention little by little. He and his adorable clumsiness feel like a little ray of sunshine, breaking through the fog.

“No, like a really, really adorable little boy with a picture of Virginia Woolf tattooed on his arm.” He chortles at your joke, airy and light. “I thought I told you not to text me at two AM, Arlert.”

“No, you’re wrong! I—I wasn’t going to send it now—I was just trying to compose it and save it in my draft—” he stops, mumbling something to himself. “It’s… Please just ignore what I said.”

“And when are you planning to send that text you were composing?”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not.” And you find yourself giggling, even when you thought you couldn’t even put on a smile. “What did you want to text me about?”

He takes a moment before answering, his voice uncertain. “I just… thought maybe we could go to Fifth Avenue Mall this Saturday? David Chariandy is having a book signing—and I don’t know if you’ve heard about him but he wrote this book called—”

“I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You,” you finish his sentence for him.

His tone immediately turns cheery. “You’ve read it?”

“Armin, I consumed that book. It’s so beautiful and intimate. The way he describes his experience growing up as a person of color and his hopes for his daughter’s future—”

“Yes!” Armin chirps, excitement standing vividly in his voice. He asks more of your thoughts, listening intently to every word until you ask him for his. Once he begins to share his opinions, his awkwardness changes into passion, and not once does he stammer as he does so. You allow him to talk as much as he wants, never try to interrupt as you haven’t found the strength to match his enthusiasm just yet. But it’s comforting to hear his voice, to learn stories through his eyes, even the ones that you’ve read countless times before.

He makes you remember that there’s a whole world out there that doesn’t involve Eren. He reminds you of the things you love—of the books you’d spent days reading the same passages until they’re burned into the memory. Armin pulls you back into the life before Eren walked in and altered everything. He’s like a breath of fresh air, and after being suffocated for the whole day, you need it more than anything else.

It’s so easy talking to him that before you know it, an hour has passed by and your anxiety has long disappeared. What starts as a detailed discussion about the fascination that you share for books, turn into something more personal. In the hour you spent talking to him, you’ve learned that modeling was something he only did for fun. He wasn’t even sure why he managed to land a deal to be one of the models for Salvatore Ferragamo—though he guessed that his father might have pulled some strings behind the scene. But Armin isn’t planning to continue with his job. His passion has always been about books and writing, and so, he plans to write his own too. His contract with his agency would come to an end this year, and after that, he would focus everything he has on writing his book.

He’s admirable. He’s still young but he already has his goal set in mind. You’ve been wanting to write your own novel for so long. You have written several chapters for it in the past, but you never could find the bravery to submit it to a publisher, or even show your work to anyone else. Not even Eren. You’re too apprehensive, afraid to be judged, so instead, you resort to working like a slave in a multibillion-dollar company as if you had no other choice. Armin astonishes you. Despite his clumsy habits and gullible attitude, he’s courageous, so goal-driven, and devoted, just like how Eren used to be.

Eren…

It still feels heavy whenever his name fleets through your mind, submerging you deep in thoughts that revolve around him and Mikasa. Unknowingly, you become distracted enough that you begin to lose track of the conversation.

“I’m sorry, you must be tired,” Armin apologizes as he notices you turn hushed. “I’m sorry for taking so much of your time when you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

You rub a hand over your face. Great, now I’m making him feel bad. “No, I’m really glad that you called,” you tell him, filled with nothing but honesty. “This was fun, Armin. I haven’t talked about my hobby for so long. You don’t know how much I needed this. Thank you for keeping me company.”

“I…” You can picture him blushing, as he does that a lot even over the simplest compliment. “You’re very welcome.”

There’s geniality in every word he speaks, seeping deep into your chest and curve your lips into a smile. “Well, since I have work in a few hours, I do need to catch some sleep. Can we continue later?”

“Yes, oh God, I’m sorry—Please, have a rest.”

“You too.” Hopefully, Armin can feel the warmth in your voice too. “Good night, Armin.”

“Good ni—wait!”

“Yes?”

“Can I… Would it be okay to call you again tomorrow?”

You can tell how elated he is to be able to get closer to you, and you can’t pretend that you didn’t hear the hope in his voice—his desire in turning this friendly call into something more. And it’s so easy to lead him on, but is it the right thing to do? Are you planning to even consider dating him?

If it feels too much, just start seeing someone else. You don’t have to be in this relationship, you know. Pieck’s words make so much sense, and it’s better that way too. Armin isn’t popular. He doesn’t have an army of obsessed fangirls chasing after his tail. You both share the same interest, have the same type and preferences. He’s smart, he’s beyond attractive, he’s kind and sweet. He’s everything a girl would look in a boy but there’s one thing he’s lacking.

He’s not Eren.

You close your eyes, another storm waging inside your heart. “Armin.”

“Y-yes?”

I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to give you hope. I don’t want to use you as his replacement. Those are the words you’re itching to say, but once you are reminded yet again of the music video you watched, your lips betray you. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Pardon?”

“If you have some time to meet, we can grab some dinner together and talk more about the book you’re planning to write. I know a good Chinese restaurant downtown we can visit.”

You can hear him go completely silent before he gasps. There’s a sound of the bed creaking as he sits upon it. “L-Like a date?”

“A friendly date,” you correct him, and if it isn’t because of the guilt you feel inside, you’d giggle at his reaction. “As in two friends going out together, having some beers and dumplings.”

“Oh yeah—of course—“ He emits a groan, making you frown. “I’m sorry for sounding so weird. I just accidentally hit my head against the wall.”

“Jesus. Too excited?”

“No, just, uh, happy, I guess.”

“And why’s that?”

“I just happen to really love dumplings.”

***

“I have to stay for a month longer,” Eren states from the other side of the phone, a little bit unclear with the sound of club music playing vehemently in the background. “The crowds over here are crazy. Our tickets were sold out within seconds. Seconds. I don’t think that ever happened before. So we decided to extend the tour, playing in three more cities before we head back.”

Nearly a month has passed since you bid him farewell and he was supposed to come back in three days. This news, of course, crushes you and it’s not solely because you already miss him so much, it’s starting to become unbearable. It’s also because your birthday is closing in. And if he has to stay for a month longer, then you won’t be able to spend it with him. And there’s nothing more that you want in the world than to have him enclose his arms around you and whisper happy birthday in your ear.

That, and of course, being separated with him like this when you still feel so hung up over his MV really takes a toll on you.

“Oh…” You try your best to keep your voice steady. You take a seat on the edge of your bed, your hand falling on your lap. “I see.”

“Are you…” he dawdles, unsure of what to say. “Are you okay with that?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You force a laugh, even when it feels like the floor is falling. “Eren, I’m proud of you. I’m glad to hear Empire is doing so well overseas. You deserve it.” But to your ears, your words sound nothing but a lie, even when they still come from the bottom of your heart. You decide changing the topic would be wiser. “Are you, uh, are you in a club right now?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “Reiner is having his birthday so we’re celebrating.”

“Oh… Tell Reiner I said congrats.”

“I’ll tell him later. I’m smoking outside right now.”

Glancing at the digital clock sitting on your desk, it must be midnight at where he is now. And he’s in a nightclub, celebrating someone’s birthday where there will be an endless amount of alcohol, with pretty girls partying and wanting to get their hands on him. And yet, here he is, putting a blind eye on all that and settles to talk to you over the phone.

It’s so endearing, the fact that he prioritizes you over anything else. That he chooses you over anyone else, but… Why?

Why would he do that? What do you have to offer him? Even if he’s satisfied with you right now, you can’t help but worry when someone as pretty and successful as Mikasa Ackerman is chasing after him. And now that they got to be that intimate with each other while shooting the music video, what if his feelings toward her start to change? Now that he got to know how soft her lips feel between his, what if he starts to crave more? Maybe his heart doesn’t want her but what if his body does?

The fact that no one else seems to have a problem with them together only hauls you down even deeper. You’ve spent half an hour reading the comment section for his MV, and not once did you find a hate comment toward her. There were some people—mostly Harlequin’s fans, judging by their usernames—who wished Historia was the one in her shoes but that was it. No one judged Mikasa by her looks. No one had problems with her personality. If anything, they wished they could have what Mikasa and Eren had in that little movie they played.

And there you are. Two candid photos of you walking down the street scattered online and they insulted you like you just committed the most atrocious crime. Maybe they were right. Maybe Eren was out of your league. You certainly had been thinking about it that way for quite some time, even without their help. Suddenly, all the sweet words Eren had told you in the past—the praises he made about your features, the gratitude he spoke about your kindness, and the compliments he shared between kisses and soft moans—have disappeared without a trace. What’s left within you now is a long, endless list of how you’re not good enough to be with him.

“Hey,” Eren’s husky voice brings you back. “You okay there? You’ve been quiet for a while.”

“I’m fine. Why are you not partying inside?” You nibble on your bottom lip, asking a similar question to match the situation. “Why are you talking to me and not… I don’t know, dancing with some girls or something?” Or call Mikasa instead?

There’s a pause where you can only hear the upbeat music playing in the background. Then, “Why don’t you answer that for me?”

Your stomach flips. “H-huh?”

“Yo, Eren.” Fortunately for you, someone—who sounds a lot like Jean but you can’t be so sure—is calling his name, abruptly putting a halt to the conversation. “Mikasa’s looking for you.”

It feels like you’re drowning in a frozen lake, a thousand ice daggers sinking into your skin at once. Mikasa?

Eren takes his phone away from his ear and you can faintly hear him say, “Later, Jean, I’m taking a call,” before he goes back to you. “Sorry. Where were we?”

Don’t ask about her, you tell yourself as your heart beats loudly in your ear, Don’t ask about her. You’ll only make things worse. “Is… she there?”

“What?”

“Mikasa.” You wet your lips; your breathing turns ragged. “I thought I heard her name.”

“Huh? Oh… Yeah,” he hesitantly answers and the question of ‘Why? Why does he sound like he wants to keep this a secret?’ arises in your head.

“Why is she there?” You question again, nails sinking into the supple skin of your thigh.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just… curious,” you finish awkwardly. You’re going too far, you’re making him feel uncomfortable. Just stop. “You know what, I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer. I was—”

“She’s in the country because we’re going to attend the same event tomorrow, and knowing that, Reiner invited her to the party,” Eren explains. He sounds calm, though more guarded than nonchalant. You can barely tell the kind of expression he displays on his face from his voice, or maybe you’re just too jittery to think.

“I see… And, uh…” You tarry, too afraid to ask, too anxious to stop. “You’re not gonna be with her?”

“Why should I?”

“I don’t know.” You play with the hem of your shirt. “I just heard she was looking for you.”

When he grows quiet, you realize just how weird you sounded. It’s clear you’re suspecting him of something, but even if he’s disturbed by it, Eren merely sighs. “Okay, what happened?” He questions. “What’s bothering you?”

“I—Nothing’s bothering me.“ You conceal your broken voice with a peal of awkward laughter. “I just—I don’t know, I just saw your MV today. For Hero Heroine. It was—” Good. Congratulations on reaching one million views in such a short time. I’m proud of you. There are so many things you could say, even if you don’t genuinely mean them, but you’re choked on your words. Your tongue refusing to form the syllables. And Eren waits, staying in silence as he tries to figure how you feel. Unable to lie, you finally let your heart do the talking. “You never told me there was an MV for it.”

Eren keeps his tone flat when he says, “Yeah, well, it just premiered this morning.”

“Could’ve told me when you did the shoot.”

“Tell you about what, exactly?” He urges you. “About me and Mikasa and the things we did in the video?” His words strike like a clap of thunder, leaving you cold and frozen on your seat. You stay voiceless, letting the silence answers him instead. “You know this is just business, right?” Eren continues. “I didn’t have anything to do with the plot or the casting. I was just doing my job, and I wasn’t aware that I had to keep you updated with what I do for a living.”

Your jaw drops. He doesn’t sound cold when he says it. He pronounces the words like he’s stating out facts and it’s true. Everything he just said is true, so why does it feel like he’s slicing your wrist open with a knife?

You’re surprised to see your vision going blurry. You know your emotions are going all over the place but you didn’t think it was enough to make tears stinging your eyes. But even if you cry, it’s not because of jealousy. It’s because of how embarrassed you are with yourself for being so possessive over him when he’s not even yours to begin with. You're just so… ashamed.

“You’re right,” you croak out, sounding like your vocal cord is thinning into a string that’s seconds away from breaking. “I’m sorry.” You wish you could turn back time so he wouldn’t see this part of you but it’s too late. Now he knows how petty you are, how disgustingly exasperating you can be when it comes to relationships.

“No, don’t—“ Eren exhales. “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry if I sounded too cold before, I was…” He trails off, keeping you at the edge of your seat. Unfortunately for you, he doesn’t speak his mind out loud, and instead, moving on to another topic. “To be honest, a part of me wanted to tell you about it, even way before I did the shoot. But then, I thought—”

“We’re not exclusive,” you finish the sentence for him and Eren stays mute, neither agreeing nor disapproving of your words. “We’re not dating, so you’re not obliged to say anything. None of this is my business.”

He takes his time, letting you be swallowed by regrets and guilt, before answering with, “That’s right.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth, worried that if you speak another word, it will only make things worse. The clock is ticking, seconds passing by without a word being exchanged. It’s until Eren calls your name that you finally allow yourself to breathe. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just… cute that you’re jealous.”

Your heart leaps to your throat. “Wha—I’m—I’m not jealous.”

He softly chuckles, not mockingly, but adoring you. “Kinda sound like you are, though.” His tone is lighter, warmer, and a little bit of joy finds its way back to your heart, knowing how he’s not disgusted by this new side of you. “Hey, I’m not upset,” Eren assures you when it takes you a while to respond. “I was a bit annoyed that you thought I was sleeping with my co-star. You really think I’m that unprofessional at my job?”

“I—“ You wheeze, fingers clutching tightly against the sheets underneath you. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—” You fail, both your head and your heart are not functioning properly at the moment.

“Take your time, baby,” Eren says, and you can tell an impish grin is breaking on his lips. “I’ll wait.”

Now that the tension has been reduced, you can slowly find your voice back. “I’m… Maybe I was a little bit jealous.”

“Now you just got ten times cuter,” he titters. “You know that you don’t have to worry about this if we start dating for real, right?”

The question strikes you down to the bones. “H-how can you say it so casually like that?!”

“What, I’m just saying the truth.”

You’re not sure whether he’s waiting for your reply, as it sounded more like a statement than a question. Unable to even think for an answer, you swerve the flow of the conversation in another direction. “Eren, I’m sorry. This is… I’m being stupid, aren’t I? But this is how I am. This is what I meant when I said I tend to get possessive of my partners. I get unreasonably jealous over little things. I’m so terrible.”

“Hey, listen to me.” The firmness in his tone makes you think that if he was here, he would look at you straight in the eyes, his hands squeezing your shoulders to emphasize his words. “I don’t want to hear you say that ever again about yourself, okay? You’re not terrible, you’re cute. Also, I don’t know about anyone else but to me… It’s kinda hot.”

“What?”

“The part where you’re possessive of me.” You can imagine him smiling to himself from the way he speaks. “It’s as if you’re saying I belong to you and only you. Like you own me and no one else can have me. I think it’s hot.”

You try to ignore the heat that’s creeping into your cheeks. “Eren, your submissive side is showing again.”

“Shut up,” he snorts, suppressing his laughter. “Wait, now that you said it. It kinda feels the same way like that time when you choked me in bed. Huh…” He ponders. “Maybe I do love being dominated.”

“The fact that you can turn this conversation into something sexual is beyond me.”

“I do have that talent, yes.” His chuckles hang in the air. Once he discovers his voice again, he speaks in nothing but solemnity. “Nothing’s going on between me and Mikasa. You know that, right?”

You stiffen. “Eren, you don’t have to explain anything.”

“I just want you to know,” he says, deep and pensive. “There’s nothing between me and her. Nothing happened and nothing will.”

Your nails are sinking into your palm as the tension grows thick once again. “Okay,” is the only word you can vocalize, because what else can you say? “Eren, it’s fine, really.” The more he tries to convince you, the more embarrassed you become. “I was just overreacting.”

“Can you trust me?”

“I do trust you.”

“Then, trust me,” he adamantly says. “Trust me when I say you don’t have to be worried about me dating someone else.”

“Umm…” You blush. Maybe your ears are playing tricks on you because it sounds so much like a love confession. “Okay.”

“Good.” You can sense his smile. “Cause as cute as you sound when you’re jealous—”

“Can you drop it, please?”

“Okay, okay,” he softly chortles.

That beautiful sound of his causes the yearning you have for him to increase, making your heart ache for his presence. “I miss you, Eren,” you hear yourself say before your mind can filter the words. “I miss you so much.”

He inhales sharply, caught off guard. “I…” His voice turns mellow. “I miss you too…”

“Just come back soon, okay?”

“I will,” he promises, the music is too loud for him to catch the longing in your voice. “The second I’m done here, I’m flying my way back to you.”

There’s a call coming in from the other line, and you drag your phone away to check on your screen. It’s from Armin, and the clock is showing that it’s almost an hour before you have to meet him at the mall. He must be calling you to check whether the meeting is still on. “Eren, sorry, I gotta go. I promised to head somewhere with a friend today.”

“Who, Pieck?”

“No, just someone I met recently.”

“You have friends other than Pieck?”

“That’s rude.” You snort, but the amusement is thick in your voice. “Of course, I do. I have tons of friends.”

“Yeah, right.”

“What—I do! But relax, Jaeger, you’re still my number one bestie.”

“We’re turning thirty in five years. Please don’t call me bestie.”

“Whatever, bestie.”

You thought he was going to bid his goodbye, but it seems like he can’t keep his curiosity to himself. “So, this friend of yours. Is it a girl or, like… you know.”

Ah… so this is how I sounded in his ear before. It does light up a little spark of joy within you. Teasing him a little bit, you answer with, “Does it matter?”

“No,” he scoffs. “I don’t care if you’re going out with a boy or a girl.”

“Kinda sound like you do, though.”

“Shut up. Just go already.”

“Alright, geez.” You giggle. It’s not fair that he gets to be this cute when he’s jealous, while you’re turning into an absolute mess every time. “Talk to you soon, Eren.”

“Bye, baby.”

***

“Thanks for driving me home,” you mention right after Armin opens your door, moving to the side to let you step down his car. Every time his lips curve upwards into this angelic smile, yours naturally do the same. The moon is peeking luminously behind thin clouds, now that the rain has stopped. The earthy aroma that follows after the shower hits your nose, catching a whiff of something similar to the natural scent that rubs off of him whenever you get a little bit closer than intended.

Not paying attention to the slippery road, your heels slide against the pavements and you stumble forward. Armin launches his arms to catch you just in time before your body makes contact with the ground.

“Careful,” he says, his hand wrapped securely around your waist as he keeps you steady. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You hastily retract your hands away from his chest. “Thanks.” In an attempt of maintaining your balance, you unconsciously gripped onto his knitted sweater, your fingers getting a clue of how toned his torso was, despite his baby face and juvenile smiles. But you shouldn’t have been surprised. He may look like the usual college boy you meet in coffee shops, but he’s a model for a reason.

“You never fail to surprise me, huh, Armin?” You beam at him. “I thought you were the clumsiest guy I’ve ever met but you actually have great reflexes.”

“Glad I could impress you,” he titters, releasing his hold on you. “I don’t think I have great reflexes, though. I just happen to be watching you.”

“Well, I’m safe and sound, so you can stop watching me now.”

“Trust me, that’s what I’ve been trying to do all day. Would’ve been easier if you don’t look this pretty all the time.”

Your little teasing grin falters the second you let his words sink in. The thing with Armin is, he doesn’t flirt. With Eren, you can expect these kinds of lines to flow naturally from his mouth. Even before the whole friends-with-benefits thing going on, he already poked fun at you like this all the time, enjoying the way you got all flustered because of him. But Armin—poor, poor Armin can’t even compliment you properly without stuttering. When he saw you walking toward your meeting point at the mall earlier today—Armin was already there half an hour before you—he took a whole damn minute trying to say, “You look beautiful in that dress.” It took him another minute to give you the three different colored roses he bought you. He’s so awkward, panicking ninety-nine percent of the time, but thankfully, whenever you switch the topic to something that’s not related to how you look or the feelings he has for you, he can function like a normal, cheerful boy-next-door who surprisingly knows quite a lot about the ocean and what lies underneath.

So naturally, whenever he accidentally praises you, your heart jumps on its own. It’s different than how you feel when you’re around Eren. Eren keeps your heart running a thousand miles per hour, keeps you standing on your toes, sends goosebumps breaking on your skin with every kiss and every touch. With Armin, it’s the feeling of being adored that gets to you. He’s so innocent, so… pure. Reminding you of the sweet taste of a first kiss.

He reminds you of it, but Eren gave it to you.

You need to stop Armin. You can’t keep his hopes up like this. Not when you're so hung up on a certain boy who’s now singing love songs to a thousand different girls in another continent.

Noticing how you grow pensive, Armin repeats the words he said in his head and he panics. “I mean—” His hands rise until they hover before his face, moving animatedly as he tries to explain. “I wasn’t, like, staring at you all the time—I only stole glances at you once in a while—it’s not—oh God—“

“Armin.”

“I’m sorry—Please don’t be upset—”

“Why would I be upset?” You let out a laugh to assure him, snatching his hand away from covering the bottom half of his face and squeeze it between yours. “Armin, you did nothing wrong.”

“Oh…” He swallows thickly at the sight of your hands covering his larger one. “I thought… You suddenly stopped talking, so…”

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking. But there’s, umm… There’s something I have to say.” You hesitate, trying to find the right words to be as gentle as possible. “Armin, thank you for being so kind to me. I really enjoy the time we spent together. Today was so fun—you are so fun to be around with. So sweet and thoughtful, but I can’t—”

“Oh—wait—” He abruptly retracts his hand, his head bowing low enough to let his bangs draw a veil over his eyes. “I… kinda get what you’re trying to say.” There’s a timid smile on his lips when he faces you again, but even if it manages to reach his eyes, it’s not enough to mask the feeling of his heart breaking. “I know that today isn’t supposed to be a date. You’ve stated several times that we were just going as friends and I understand that. So…” When he drops his hands on his sides, he twines his fingers around the side of his khaki pants. “You don’t have to remind me again that we’re just friends.”

There’s a heavy weight in your chest, the feeling of guilt. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to his invitation in the first place. That was very cruel of you to do. “I’m sorry,” you say, your shoulders sagging. “I just didn’t want you to think that this could lead to something more.”

He must hate me now. Today was going so well and I had to end it this way. I’m the worst. You wonder if you should comfort him with a hug as you watch him keep himself reticent. You hate to walk away just like this but Armin doesn’t know what to say, and neither do you.

With your stomach swirling queasily inside, you take a step forward. “Armin—”

“Isn’t it my choice, though?” He interrupts, a little bit louder than how he usually speaks, leaving you stunned on your feet. His fingers are curling into tiny balls of fists, his clear, cerulean eyes determined as they bore deep into yours. “You said yourself that we could start as friends and we’ll see how it goes. As long as you’re not in a relationship—as long as you’re not in love with another man—isn’t it—“ He takes a second to breathe, wets his lips once as his heart throbs painfully inside his ribcages. “Isn’t it okay for me to not give up on my feelings? To want to be as close to you as I can?”

Your face turns a darker shade of crimson. “Armin—”

“I’m not asking you to date me, and I’m certainly not asking you to love me. At least, not right now.” His tone changes. His voice no longer shakes. It’s undaunted and honest as he speaks straight from his heart. “But whether or not I am allowed to want you—to like you more than friends—that’s up to me. I get to choose who I want to love, not you.”

You’re standing still as if the time just stopped. Your mind turns blank, with only his words being repeated until you have them carved strongly into your memory.

“All I’m asking is,” Armin’s tone softens, as much as his gaze does. He places his hand gently on your cheek, fingertips gliding silky smooth against your skin. “For you to let me be myself around you. And if a lovesick fool is what I am, then I hope you can accept that too.” He no longer fumbles with his words but you can feel the quivers that run through his fingers. You can see the redness that paints his cheeks, adding beautiful color to his pale, porcelain-like skin. His sapphire eyes are mesmerizing, as they always are. So tender and beautiful, matching the little smile that breaks upon his lips. But underneath those, there’s fear and uncertainty. “Would it be alright?” He questions, almost in a whisper. “For me to hold on to my feelings?”

Maybe it’s because of the sudden proximity you’re in that you feel everything fades into nothingness, leaving nothing else to exist but for him and his rosy lips that form your name so tenderly like a lullaby. Maybe it’s because you can somehow smell his sweet, natural scent that reminds you of the pine trees after the storm that you’re unable to think about anything else but him. Or maybe it’s just your body reacting to another man touching your skin as if you meant the whole world to him but you can feel your heartrate escalating, forcing the blood to rush to your face and this time, you’re the one who stammers when you speak. “You—yeah, umm… It’s alright, I… guess…”

You expect him to grin, maybe even to lay a kiss on your cheek from how uncharacteristically smooth he’s being, but to your surprise, he switches back to his former self. “Oh, thank God,” Armin says, turning around so he can escape your gaze and buries his face in his hands. He’s both groaning and mumbling to himself, the tips of his ears turning scarlet as if he’d been walking under the snow for hours. “What did I just say to her—oh my God—“ you faintly hear him say and you can’t help but laugh. The version of him you caught a glimpse of before made your heart race, but this one warms it up like a spring replacing a hard, long winter.

Armin turns around to face you with a pout, his bottom lip jutting out like a child. “Please don’t tell me you’re laughing at me. I’m this close at burying myself alive right now.”

“I’m sorry.” You wipe a tear from your eye. “You’re so cute, I can’t help it.”

He blushes harder, and with his pout growing more prominent, he pinches your cheeks, pulling them to the side. “Stop laughing!” But his words do not serve as a threat as he’s starting to chuckle himself, producing the softest of giggle that matches your own.

The tension in the air starts to waver. Once your body no longer shakes from laughter, Armin tosses you the sweetest smile. “Thank you for keeping me company today. I had so much fun.”

“Me too.” You mirror his expression. “Thanks for inviting me. I haven’t had this much fun in a while.”

“I’m glad.” He lays a hand over his heart, probably an attempt to calm his beating heart. “I’m really, really glad to hear that,” he says again, softly in relief, and more to himself than anyone else. An innocent smile is strapped to his lips, causing your heart to jerk violently in your chest.

Because how is this fair? He’s looking at you like you’re his first love. This is the first time you went out with him for the whole day, and yet, here he is, adoring you like he has fallen for you for years. Yes, you have talked several times on the phone with him, sharing stories and funny secrets that you’d usually keep to yourself, but is it really enough for someone as sweet as him to fall for you?

“Why do you like me?” Your curiosity defeats the control you have over your mouth.

Armin gapes, so blown away by the question, he doesn’t look like he’s breathing. “I—w-why do I like you?” He takes a step back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “What—How do you expect me to answer that question?”

“I expect you to be honest.” You hold his gaze and when he tries to look away, you lay a hand on his cheek, holding him in place. “Be honest with me, Armin, because I really can’t tell. For all I know, I’m just… me. There are a lot of pretty girls out there who would date you in a heartbeat. A lot of nicer ones too, I’m sure. What exactly do you see in me?”

The boy looks like his heart is failing on him, but he covers your hand with his own, keeping it there on his face where you can feel his cheek getting hotter from the way his blood is rushing to his face. “I…” Armin starts, keeping his eyes concealed under his fringe. “I like you because you’re not… like the other girls.” His words paint another color on his cheeks. “It—it sounds cliche, I know, but—but it’s true. I can’t find the right words for now, but you really are different. Or, at least, you treat me differently like how they usually do.”

You let a moment pass before you can form your response. You drop your hand from his face, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Chewing on his lip, he peers into your eyes as if he’s trying to find the answers to that question in them. Exhaling heavily, he walks to your side and leans his back against the side of his car. “I’ve never asked someone on a date before. I told you that, didn’t I?” He tucks his hands inside the pocket of his jeans so you won’t notice his jitters. “I braved myself to ask you out because I really couldn’t stop thinking about you. I didn’t think I would be brave enough to do it, but I realized that if I didn’t try, at least once, to get your attention, then I would regret it for the rest of my life. That’s why I chased after you, and I’m glad that I took my chances because it led me here. To this moment.”

You weren’t expecting for the conversation to veer this way, so you play deaf, though the rest of your body betrays you.

“A-anyway, I digress.” Armin forces a chortle to break free, and it’s so strained, he, himself, almost winces at the sound. “I’ve been in a relationship before with this girl I loved back in college. She knew I had feelings for her. I couldn’t even strike a conversation, but she noticed. Probably because I kept watching her like a creep.”

“You’re not a creep, Armin.”

“No, I probably was…” He rubs his nose, slightly shivering from the cold night wind. “So, one day, she asked me if I wanted to grab dinner with her and I agreed, wholeheartedly. We got to talking—well, I listened to what she said—I couldn’t talk much because, you know, I got so nervous. But she enjoyed my company—not sure why, but she did—and two hours later, she kissed me and we started dating.”

“That was pretty smooth,” you comment with a grin, leaning against the car like he is.

“Believe me, it wasn’t.” Noticing how you tremble slightly from the cold, he takes off his beanie, mumbling out a quick, “Excuse me,” before he places it on your head. “I’m sorry,” he utters with his voice turning velvety, as he tucks a few strands behind your ear. “I would’ve taken my sweater for you but I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

You blush at the thought. “No,” you clear your throat, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “This is fine. Thank you.”

“Do you want to go inside?”

“You mean, to my apartment? With you?”

He’s the one who’s blushing this time, and he’s blushing harder than he ever did before. “N-no, I didn’t mean it like that! I’ll head home if you feel like you want to get warm inside—”

“And miss hearing the story of your grandiose first love?” You playfully elbow him on his side. “Just carry on, Armin. There’s a cafe over there if you want to get some coffee, though. It’s only five minutes walk.”

His eyes light up. “Yes, please, I’d love you.”

“What?”

“TO!” He shouts, almost passing out in horror. “I would love to have some coffee—Jesus Christ, why do I keep doing this—“

Laughing at him, you tug him forward by his sleeve and lead the way.

***

“So, how long did you two get together?” You sink into the couch that’s located in the corner of the coffee shop, settling yourself down right next to him, and bask in the delightful smell of coffee and cinnamon. You’re sitting close enough to see the colors on his face but not enough to let your shoulders brush against one another.

“Not long,” he answers, wincing after he took a sip of his coffee. Unlike Eren who always insists that “It’s not coffee if it’s not bitter,” Armin is the exact opposite. He thanks you when you slide him your sugar sticks, pouring everything inside at once. “Probably three months? Four?” He stirs his spoon, taking another sip, and sighs in content once it suits his tongue.

“We should’ve gone to a boba tea shop,” you joke and he, surprisingly, responds by sticking his tongue out at you like a child. It fits him, making him look even younger than he already does. “Why did you break up with her?”

“I didn’t.” He places his cup back to the wooden table, leaning forward with his hands propped on his thighs. “She, uh… She broke up with me.”

“I’m sorry…” You tarry, feeling a bit awkward. “Can I ask why?”

“Because I’m boring, I guess?” He disguises his feelings with a chuckle. “Because our interests didn’t align with each other. She was not a fan of literature. And well, I always got too fired up about the things I like, especially about the novel I’m planning to write and she just didn’t want to hear me talk about it anymore. She also told me that she felt embarrassed when she brought me over to parties. I didn’t really know how to talk to people—I mean, I still don't.” He keeps his tone light, his smile never falters as he retells the story but you can tell how terrible he feels about this from the way he fiddles with his fingers. “You know how I am. I keep fumbling with my words, keep tripping over my feet. I can barely look people in the eyes. I can stay calm in front of the cameras but… I don’t know, some people are just too intimidating to look at, I guess.”

And it irks you that he has such low self-esteem when he’s one of the most pleasant people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s not as confident or as charismatic as Eren, true, but he has his own traits that make him endearing. He has his own charm and you feel more captivated by him the more hour you spend together.

“So one day,” he continues, “She sent me a text, telling me that she wanted to break up with me. I tried to call but she didn’t pick up. When we passed each other in the hallway the next morning, I wanted to tell her that I’d love for us to stay friends, but she avoided me, so…”

God, this is vexing, you think, settling your cup down with your eyebrows deeply furrowed. “Armin, I’m sorry,” you say, and he turns his head toward you, bewildered by how unsettled you sound. “I don’t know her and I know I shouldn’t judge, but I can firmly say, with every fiber of my being, that she doesn’t deserve you. At all. She is mean, she is selfish, she doesn’t know the first thing about you—"

“W-wait—“ He holds up a hand, eyebrows adjoined in the middle as he grimaces. “Why are you getting angry—“

“Because you seem fine with it and it pisses me off!” You toss your hands in the air exasperatedly. “Armin, don’t ever talk yourself down, okay? I don’t want to hear that coming from you—ever. You are adorable, you hear me? You’re not embarrassing, and you’re definitely not boring. I honestly think you’re the smartest guy I’ve ever met! You’re charming, you’re kind, you give compliments to people without expecting to receive one. You’re so genuine, and I adore that about you. She doesn’t deserve you, seriously.”

“Umm… Thank you.” He’s quite baffled, unsure of how to react. “She broke up with me years ago, though, so you don’t have to be angry about it anymore.”

“Yeah, well, I just heard this story now so I’m livid,” you grumble, reaching out to grab your coffee. “How dare she said those things to you. Did she not see how charming you are?”

“Do you?” He asks with hopeful eyes, shyly peeking at you from underneath his bangs. “Do you, umm, find me to be charming?”

“Don’t make me shout at you too, Armin. Of course, I do.”

“But not as charming as Eren.”

You freeze, one hand holding your cup in the air. The anchor that was once tugging on your heart returns, but before you can find your reply, Armin laughs it off. “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer that. I was just, uh—“ He fixes his collar, keeping his hand busy. “I was just joking.”

He didn’t sound like he was, and he certainly doesn’t look like it now. “I’m sorry…”

“No, please, don’t be.”

The sound of people chattering in the background is the only one that fills the gap between you. It’s awkward enough that you feel like you want to stand up and excuse yourself to the bathroom, just so you can get a chance to breathe. Fortunately for you, Armin breaks the silence.

“This is also the reason why I like you,” he sheepishly adds. “You’re so blunt. So straightforward. You always say the first thing that comes to your mind and it puts me at ease because I know you’ll tell me straight to my face if I ever make you feel uncomfortable. I know you’d rather talk it out with me, instead of bottling everything inside and turn yourself into a ticking bomb that blows up until there’s nothing left for us to hold on to.”

“That’s…” You shift in your seat, turning around slightly so you don’t have to be standing under his gaze. “You’re giving me too much credit.”

“Maybe.” Armin presses his spine against the couch, stirring his coffee. “But you’ve always been that way with me from the start. You could’ve lied when I asked you about your feelings for Eren. And if you already know that he likes you too, you could’ve used me to make him jealous. Maybe that way, he’ll step up and confess to you and you two can finally be together.”

You stiffen, swallowing your breath. “That thought actually did cross my mind.”

“But you didn’t do it.” Armin tilts his head to the side, his eyes raking over your side profile. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have reminded me several times that we were just gonna be friends.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“No, I don’t want to,” he confirms one more time. You bring your head low, hoping that your hair will cover your blazing cheeks. “Having feelings for you makes me happy. I feel like I’m more alive whenever I think about you. I feel so many different emotions at once—too overwhelming, sometimes, yes, but I like it.”

Your ears are buzzing. “That’s… an unusual way to say it.”

“Oh my God, I just said something really weird, didn’t I? Oh no—” He returns to his usual self and you quickly darts out one hand, pinch him lightly on the bridge of his nose before he works himself into a state of frenzy and causing a scene.

“Anything else you want to add, Mr. Arlert?” You cross your legs, playfully fixing your nonexistent glasses as you chaff him. “Or me being shameless about my feelings is the only reason why you’re attracted to me?”

“Of course not!” He nearly stands up from his seat, startling you. “There are still a million reasons why I like you—”

“Okay, calm down now.” You raise both hands in the air. “I was just teasing you.”

“You’re beautiful!” He’s not stopping, blurting everything in one breath. “You have the most breathtaking smile I’ve ever seen—pretty eyes too! I love it when the light shines on them and they—”

“A-Armin—wait—”

“And I love the little moles you have—I think they’re really cute—”

You’re covering your hands with both hands. “Jesus—“

“And it makes me happy because you’re okay with who I am!” Armin confesses, taking one of your hands in his, breathless as he speaks. “You accept me for who I am. You’re probably just joking around when you tell me I’m endearing but it really does make me happy.” He’s brave enough to meet your eyes for more than a few seconds now. It’s you, this time, who feels overwhelmed being under his stare so you bring your eyes down to your lap instead. “And I find you ten times more attractive the closer I get to you,” Armin continues, slowly releasing your hand. “You’re witty. You have a great sense of humor. We have the same hobby, we love the same books, we view things similarly. I feel like I can talk to you for hours and never going to run out of topics. How do you expect me to not fall for you?”

It’s bad… His words are doing things to your heart that you didn’t know you’d get to feel. His voice is the exact opposite of Eren’s. His is smooth and light, almost a bit feminine, even, but it managed to wake up the butterflies inside your stomach just as much. You can feel your cheek blazing hot, and even though you still feel uneasy—guilty, even—for having this kind of reaction for someone other than Eren, you don’t know how to keep your heart from thrashing wildly inside.

Armin is just as flushed, but instead of spouting words, he tucks his lip between his teeth and sinks his fingernails into his palms, waiting for you to be the one who breaks the silence this time.

You take a deep breath, hoping your voice won’t tremble. “I wasn’t joking,” you utter, gaining his attention until he spins back his head to perceive you. “I really do find you to be endearing.”

“Oh…” He drags his eyes to his lap again. “T-thank you.”

You hate the tension that stretches between you. Desperate of returning everything to normal, you make a joke. “So, my moles, huh? Never thought I’d hear someone saying that to me but okay.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, and in the next split second, his eyes widen in horror. “Wait, no, don’t take it the wrong way, please!”

“What do you mean? You’re saying you don’t like my moles?”

“No, I do! They’re pretty—you’re so, so pretty—you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever had conversations with but please know that it’s not your face—o-or your moles—that made me fall for you.” You narrow your eyes, pretending to be sending him a glare and he nearly stands up from his seat, panicking. “No, please, don’t get me wrong! Your face does things to my head—you don’t know how much I think about you in the shower—”

“Oh, God—”

“NO, I MEAN—” Color drained from his face, his cup rattles when he accidentally bumps his knees against the table. “I do a lot of thinking when I’m in the shower—like about, politics and stuff—not the dirty ones, I swear!”

And you let him ramble on and on, smiling to yourself as you listen. You’re being mean to him but it’s easier on your heart. “So you’re saying you never had any dirty thoughts about me? What, am I not sexy enough for you, Arlert?”

He nearly weeps.

***

“So, uhh…” Armin dallies as you return his beanie to his hand. You have walked back to your previous spot, standing on the pavement with his car parked nearby on the side of the road. “Can I text you later tonight?”

“As long as it’s not two AM when you’re feeling lonely,” you tease him with the same joke. “Sure.”

“I’ll try not to,” he titters. “Well… Good night.”

“Good night, Armin.” You can tell he wants to bid his farewell with a hug, but his fingers are already trembling before he can even finish the thought that he has to hide his hands behind his back. Doing him a favor, you step closer and present him with something better.

You land a hand on his shoulder, tiptoeing to match his height, and kiss him on the cheek. Flustered, he backs away, pressing his palm against the spot that feels scorching hot from your kiss. “I—you—umm—” He’s lost for words, and you simply grin in return, walking past him.

He stands immobile, only turning around to face you when you call his name before you walk through the entrance door. “You know,” you say, tucking your hands inside the pockets of your coat. “Any girl would be lucky to have you, Armin. You’re the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.”

He gapes, his jaw hanging low on his face. Tossing another cheeky smile, you turn around and walk inside your building.

“Can you be that girl?!” You hear him shout and you laugh to yourself.

“Not when you keep thinking about me in the shower, Armin.”

***

There’s one thing Armin gave to you that Eren never did and it’s the motivation to pursue your dream. Eren knew how much you liked pouring your dreams, hopes, and fantasies into words—he knew that ever since he met you in junior high. But it’s a sensitive topic, one that he was too afraid to bring back to the surface, knowing that the last time the two of you conversed about your story was when you made him a promise that you would create one for him, and in exchange, he would write a song for you. But he left before he got to sing, and he disappeared before you could show him how much you adored your protagonist—one that was based on him.

The story is still there, hidden in the top drawer of your bedroom, secluded in a box so your parents wouldn’t throw it away by mistake. If you had the bravery, you would’ve shown it to him. Would’ve let him know how the hero in the story had his smile, had his eyes, had both his courage and his insecurities. Would’ve told him how the heroine loved her hero, despite all of his flaws and the sins he committed. How she believed in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself. How she loved him for who he was, way before anyone else could see just how brilliantly he could shine. But you couldn’t tell him. Not right now. And Eren never talked about it too. Maybe he had forgotten, just like the song he promised to write for you once. Because as far as you knew, he never sang it to you.

You could talk to Eren about everything, from trivial matters to your darkest secrets, but this? This you can’t talk about. But with Armin, he suddenly makes it so easy. It all started with a simple question of, “Why do you want to be a writer?” You were making small talk, didn’t plan to have him tugging on your heartstrings, and made you feel something you had forgotten you once felt.

“Stories… They’re kind of peculiar, aren’t they?” Armin revealed his answer as he smiled softly to himself. “They could make you feel alive, make you feel something you’ve never experienced just by words. I like to believe that stories have the power to bring people together, no matter what race they are, what religion they believe in, what they have gone through. As long as they could relate to these stories, they could relate to everyone else. Virginia Woolf’s Night and Day was the one who brought you to me. She created the story that inspired us, and I’d like to believe that maybe from there, we could create our own and so, we could inspire other people—to make them feel alive with our stories. And I want this. I want to influence people. I want to connect. I want to relate. I want my existence to mean something.”

Armin spoke like he was in trance, but even if his voice was more delicate than a mother’s lullaby, you could feel the passion he had to reach his dream. So his answer became yours.

Seeing how zealous he is when it comes to writing, lights up the same fire within you. The old spark that used to zap through your body whenever you had your pen on paper has returned at once, and it’s stronger than ever. He motivates you to write again, to work on the chapters you have left abandoned for years. Your protagonist still has dark hair and viridian eyes, but he’s not shackled down by a promise. You’re starting a new page, a new story, and this time, you hope, if you manage to finish it, you’ll be able to present it to him. Just like the songs he sang to you, you want Eren to read your story and make him wonder if it’s about him. If he’s the hero in the story, and you’re his heroine.

Armin’s schedule is nowhere as hectic as Eren’s, which gives you a lot of chances to do impromptu meetings whenever you have time to spare. In a matter of two weeks, you’ve grown closer to him than you’ve ever been with Porco. You share your dreams with him, the goals you want to achieve, and Armin listens intently to everything, supports you without being asked, and you hope you’re doing the same thing for him.

You’ve grown so comfortable around him that you could call him at midnight, saying, “Okay, I can’t sleep and I have this great idea I want to write.” Armin would chuckle at first, timid and slightly awkward as expected, but he’d always respond with, “Me too. Meet you at the usual cafe in thirty? I’ll bring my MacBook.” His house is only twenty-five minutes drive away from your apartment building, and he would wait for you at the lobby before you marched over to him in your oversized hoodie and sweatpants, mischief swirling in your eyes. You’d then walk together to the nearest cafe, grateful that it was open 24 hours without a break. Not more than a week later, both of you have completed the first chapter of your novels.

“Okay, we’ll do it at the same time. Ready?” Sitting before you in the corner of your favorite coffee shop, Armin takes a deep breath and gives you a nod. He seems nervous, which is nothing new when it comes to him, but right now, with his manuscript in his hands, he’s stiffly perched at the edge of his seat. His teeth nearly cutting his lip from how hard he’s chewing on it. “On three,” you confirm. “One, two, three!”

On your count, you both slide your manuscripts down the table at the same time—yours to Armin, and Armin’s to you. Just like him, your heart is racing fast, enough to make you hear your heartbeat in your ears. “This is the first time I’m showing my novel to anyone,” you tell him, voice sounding a little bit squeaky than intended. You hold his manuscript close to your chest, not reading the first page just yet. “So… Please be gentle with me.”

“Me—“ Armin is even worse. His voice actually breaks, and with ears turning red, he hastily clears his throat. “Me too. I’ve never shown my work to anyone before. And I—I will—“ His next words almost come in whispers. “I will be gentle with you…”

You wait with your lips pressed until they turn white, afraid that your laughter will break free if you don’t keep them shut tightly enough. You both know how weird that line just sounded, and you can tell by his face turning redder by the second. “Sex innuendo?” You blatantly ask him and he chokes. Just like that, the tension breaks and you both can breathe a little easier. “Okay, before you start passing out on me or something,” you tease him, “Let’s read. Don’t comment anything until we’re both finished with it.”

“Y-yeah, okay.” Armin fills his lungs with as much air as he can, a method he tries often to keep himself calm when he’s around you. With your nod, he begins to read the first page of your historical romance story, while you scan your eyes carefully through every word of his detective fiction novel.

You both fall into silence, immersed in each other’s writings and the universe you created. The sound of a group of females chatting in the other corner of the room, and a mixtape of acoustic songs playing through the speakers are the only voices that ring through your ears but you pay them no mind. You’re not sure how many minutes have passed by as you go from one page to another.

With every passage you read, you’re sinking further and further into the world that he built. Armin’s writing skills are immaculate, intricately descriptive, whilst leaving more room for the audience to let their imagination wander. The way his metaphors flow seamlessly in every scene leaves you jealous, wanting nothing more than to have a portion of his skill. The atmosphere of the story is much more mature and sensual than you would’ve expected coming from his hands, but it works perfectly, giving you a glimpse of another persona that lives inside him. Armin, himself, is a mystery you want to unravel.

His passion for writing really shows with each word he puts down on paper. It’s so easy to be captivated by the conundrum that revolves around his protagonist, and you become addicted to reading more and more to satisfy your curiosity. When there are no longer pages to read, you’re left unsatisfied in your seat, gasping a quiet, “Oh no,” before you return to the first page and read it all over again.

You’ve read his chapter twice when Armin is finally finished with yours. It’s quite strange as you know he’s not a slow reader. You and Armin have been exchanging books in the last few weeks, and he managed to finish the top four novels from your list—ones that he hasn’t read, anyway, because you have similar taste when it comes to literature—while you only got to finish one from his. He’s very attentive to details too, knowing every bit of hidden meanings, every hidden message that the authors tried to convey, only by reading them once and in such a short time. He continues to impress you, leaving you wanting to hear more of the stories—the same stories that you’ve read three times, at least—through his eyes.

So now, seeing how he takes a much longer time than necessary to read your chapter, you can feel your heart slamming against your ribcages as you wait. Armin closes your manuscript, settling it down on the table while keeping his face pensive. You both exchange stares, witnessing the anxiety you have in each other’s eyes. At the same time, you both open your mouth and shout, “It was so good!”

“I’m sorry, you go first,” you hastily say.

“N-no, please,” Armin insists, “After you.”

“Okay.” You wanted to be professional about it, to give him a thorough review like how you would write in your article, but the second you recite your opinion, you’re turning into a fanatic. Your vocabulary suddenly becomes limited, only able to repeat the same words—unpredictable, addicting, clever—over and over again like a broken record. You get so excited, your hands moving without rest that at one point, you almost accidentally knock your latte with your fist. Every compliment he hears paint a shade of crimson on his cheeks. By the end you’re finished with your praise, he has his arms folded on the table and his face buried between them.

“T-thank you,” he murmurs, too embarrassed to meet you in the eyes. Once he’s calm enough to speak, however, there’s seriousness in his voice. “Do you… want to hear your review?”

You’re so anxious, you won’t be surprised if you start breaking into a cold sweat. “Yes, please.”

Unlike you, Armin provides his opinions like how he would toward a professional writer. “I love the idea of metafiction, it always intrigues me. You’re very brave for using this kind of story-telling for your first book, as it’s not easy,” he says, uncharacteristically solemn. “I know this is only the first chapter, so I won’t say much. I enjoy the characters you presented. You’ve only introduced them, but I find them to be engaging. Especially, the heroine. She’s very beautifully written. Your narratives, need to be polished, however. I feel like it’s a little bit too similar to how Ian McEwan would write in his books. It’s good, don’t get me wrong, your writing is perfect. But you need to find your identity, your own style. When I read your columns, I could feel it. I could easily distinguish your articles from the others just by reading the first passage. You have something in you that makes your works stand out from the rest—makes them different. But I don’t feel that in here,” Armin says, tapping his index finger on your manuscript. “Beautiful story, immaculate storytelling, but if it doesn’t feel like it’s you who wrote it, would you be satisfied with it?”

You’re dumbstruck, lips parted but your tongue feels too heavy to move. That… is true, you think to yourself, recalling the times when you struggled to type the words down. You wanted to write in the same way you’d write your article, in the same style that you’re familiar with—one that you invented with years of practice. But when you read it again, you felt insecure. It felt like you were lacking—missing something important. The metaphors you used didn’t sound beautiful. The imagination you poured into words seemed so limited. You couldn’t stop comparing your work to others, and instead of finding your own style, you imitated theirs instead.

And Armin—a guy who only knew you for a few weeks—noticed that. “I’m…” You lick your lips, loss for words. “That’s—”

“Oh my God, I was being too harsh, wasn’t I?” Armin cuts you off, his arms flailing as he panics. “I’m—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to sound like a jerk—what do I even know about writing—I haven’t even finished my work yet—“

“Armin—”

“—and to think I had the nerve to criticize other people about it—I’m such a horrible person—“

“Armin!” You don’t know what else to do but shout as his voice starts rising louder and louder, gathering people’s attention.

He stops, frozen on his seat, breathless. “Please forgive me,” he says, much quieter and much more afraid this time. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m not hurt, Armin. Stop being so dramatic.” You emphasize your words with a laugh, and that’s the truth. You’re far from hurt. Maybe even happy, to have someone who understands your writing better than you do. You feel grateful toward him. “Jesus, you’re one of a kind, aren’t you? It’s like you have two different people living inside you.”

“I’m—I’m sorry.” He bows his head again.

“Stop apologizing.”

“I’m sor—“ He catches himself. “Okay.”

“Good.” You gather both of your manuscripts in your arms, slinging your handbag in one shoulder. “Now, get off your butt and follow me.”

“Huh?” But as he sees you leave, he doesn’t have any other choice but to follow. “Where are we going?”

“To get some burgers,” you say, casting a smile at him. “I’ll treat you.”

“No, please, I can pay for myself—”

You poke him on his chest, stopping him. “I want to thank you, silly.”

He frowns, rubbing the spot. “You’re not… mad at me?”

You stop at your tracks once you’ve stepped out of the coffee shop, turning around to face him. “Can you stop being so adorable for one second?” You tell him and he blushes, gluing his eyes to his feet. “Of course I’m not mad at you, Armin. I’m grateful. Thank you for the review. I feel more motivated to work on my novel, now that I have someone out there who’s waiting for the real me.” You send him a cheeky grin, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. Armin returns your smile, brighter than the sun, softer than the cold wind of spring. It tweaks on your heart, your stomach flipping in delight. Hastily, you pivot on your heels and walk toward your next destination.

“Hey.” Armin matches your steps. “Can I take your manuscript with me?”

“Sure. Why?”

“No reason. Just want to have the first copy of the next New York Times’ number one bestselling romance novel sitting on my shelf.”

“Shut up.” You bump your shoulder against his and Armin’s warm, tiny laughter complete yours as they mingle in the air. “Speaking of that, you know what book should’ve been an all-time bestseller? Number The Stars by Stephen Reeve.”

Armin nearly trips over his feet after he heard your sentence, his body lurching forward until he maintains his balance by taking a hold of your wrist.

“Seriously?” You poke fun at him. “Again, Armin?”

He lightly laughs, grimacing as he does so. He steadies himself, keeping up with your pace. “I didn’t realize you were a fan of that author.”

“A fan? I literally would sell one of my kidneys to have him sign my books. It irks me so much that he’s so underrated. Everything he wrote kept me at the edge of my seat. His Devil in Winter series? Best four books I’ve ever read in my life, hands down. Seriously, what a talent. You’ve never heard of him?”

“Umm… No.” Armin fixes his collar, looking away. Noticing you raising your eyebrow at his quirk, he points his finger forward. “Oh, look! An ice-cream van! Come, I’ll treat you one!”

“Hey, I’m supposed to be the one who—“ But Armin already snatches your hand away, tugging you forward until you nearly tripped like he did before. He catches you by the waist, scrunching his nose cutely at you as he holds you close. “Seriously?” He imitates you with rosy cheeks. “Again?”

“Oh, you’re dead, Arlert.”

***

“You should go to a hospital,” Pieck says, tying her hair up in a ponytail as she walks next to you with her heels clicking against the pavement. You’re on your way to the nearest shopping mall, choosing to walk on foot as it’s not too far away from your meeting point. “You look like you’re dying.”

The two of you are spending the weekend together, which is something you haven’t done in months probably, due to your… busy schedule with Eren. Now that he’s performing in a different continent, and Armin is busy working for the charity program his father has planned for the season, you can finally enjoy some girl time with your only female friend, Pieck Finger.

“I do?” You weakly ask, feeling a little lightheaded from lacking sleep. Not sure why, but you haven’t been able to sleep properly. Eren has been calling you less and less, and every time he did manage to call, it never went more than fifteen minutes. He always sounded so exhausted—physically. Whenever he FaceTimed you, he would always force himself to smile, asking how your day went, and paid as much attention as he could to your story, even though you could see how he could barely keep his eyes open as he did so. You didn’t have the heart to keep him awake so you ended up ending the call, bidding him farewell while showcasing a sympathetic smile. And if you texted him afterward, he would reply on the next morning, replying with the same line: “Sorry. I fell asleep last night. Talk to you later?”

You feel so… lonely.

Perhaps, you’ve been feeling that from the first day Eren walked out through your door, but his late-night calls always managed to compensate. And, of course, Armin was always there to keep you accompany too. Now that they’re both gone, busy minding their own businesses, you feel like you’re trapped inside a hole—one that’s even darker and more suffocating than before.

“Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” Pieck says, “Your eye bags are showing, your pores are getting bigger and your lips are chapped. He’s been gone for like, what, three months?”

“Five weeks.”

“Five weeks!” She throws her hands in the air, shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s only been five weeks and you look like a walking corpse. Did you really miss him that bad?”

You’re ashamed to admit it so you tell her, “No,” but deep down, you know it’s true. Not once in your life have you ever missed someone this much, and if that makes you sound pathetic, then so be it. Besides, you were so excited to celebrate your birthday with him, wondering if he would give you a special present that only he could give. Now that he’s confirmed he won’t be back anytime soon, you have to throw those hopes out of the window.

“You’re not still worried about him sleeping with another girl, are you?” Pieck asks.

You could’ve lied about it, but you can’t find the strength to do it. “Well…”

“Honey, let me slap you back to reality, okay? He’s in love with you. He never stated it out loud, true, but everyone—literally, everyone—could see he’s in love with you. Hell, you could tell him to convert himself into a good Christian, and he’d drag his ass right that second to the nearest church and say, Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned—”

“Okay, but—”

“Hush, I’m not finished!” She smacks a finger to your lips. “Yes, he does have some crazy, obsessed fangirls who, for some reason, find it to be appropriate to throw their bras and panties to the stage whenever he performs. And yes, at this point, Eren could choke them with his dick, stuck a dildo in their ass, and throw them away once he’s done with them, and they’d still say yes, thank you, daddy, I love you—”

“Pieck—”

“But he’s not gonna do that because he’s in love with you!” She whines, shaking you by the shoulders. “Now, if you’re gonna keep moping about this, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to drag your cute butt to therapy because I can’t deal with you being like this. I want my best friend back!”

You take a moment before answering, afraid that she’d slap a hand over your mouth for interrupting. “Umm… Are you done?”

“Yeah.” She exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Jesus, look what you’ve done to me. I got worked up over nothing.”

“So… We’re best friends?”

“Oh my God, after all the things I said—”

“I’m kidding.” With a cheeky grin, you tackle her with a hug, hard enough to make her yelp. “Thank you, Pieck. You always know how to cheer me up, even if your method is a little bit… extreme.”

Pieck always has a soft spot for you, though she never would admit it out loud. “I’m unique, that’s what I am,” she mutters, patting your back twice. “Oh, you know what we should do?” Pieck suggests when you loosen your embrace, landing both hands on your shoulder. “Let’s go buy some lingerie.”

Her suggestion may be out of the blue but at this point, you can’t really be surprised at her antics. “I have enough bras and panties in my closet, thanks.”

“No, you’re not getting it.” Her smile turns impish, borderline filthy. “We’re gonna buy the skimpiest lingerie ever existed and you’re gonna wear it on the day he comes back home.”

“What?!” You choke, face aflame. “That’s—why would I do that?!”

“Because that would make him happy. Don’t you want to make him happy?”

Of course, you do, but you never thought you’d make him happy in that way. “I—” You look away, awkward and abashed that you’re having this conversation in public. “I’ve never bought any of those before.”

“Well,” Pieck raises her chin, smug and proud. “That’s why I’m here, right, sister?”

***

Today is your birthday. The sound of your alarm ringing indicates that it’s seven-thirty in the morning. Out of habit, you slide your hand underneath your pillow, already searching for your phone even before you can properly open your lids. With bleary eyes, you check through your messages. You have family members and several friends congratulating you on your birthday, more than you would expect it to be. Rubbing your eyes away from sleep, you quickly scan through the messages.

Happy birthday, bestie 🎊 🎉🎂 - Pieck, 01.11 AM

May you always be surrounded with life’s biggest joys and never-ending bliss. And if your biggest joy is in the form of Eren’s humongous cock, then I wish you’ll be shrouded with that too for the rest of your life. - Pieck, 01.12 AM

Sorry, baby, I wanted to text you an hour ago but Pokko was wrecking my ass 🤪 - Pieck, 01.12 AM

BEST. SEX. EVEEEEEEERRR 💦💦💦 - Pieck, 01.13 AM

Don’t forget we’re having a party for you at my place tomorrow. Your building sucks btw. I would’ve thrown you a surprise party if your landlord doesn’t act like a fucking bitch every time. Who the fuck doesn’t allow partying? It’s your apartment. - Pieck, 01.14 AM

Anyway, love ya! - Pieck, 01.14 AM

Oh! Don’t forget to bring that cute guy with you. Pokko’s afraid that he’ll be the only guy at the party. - Pieck, 01.14 AM

Blinking sleepily while holding back a yawn, you run your thumbs across the screen. Thanks, Pieck, you type, you really don’t have to throw a party for me but I’m very happy that you do. Armin and I will be there.

Happy birthday, grandma. You’re one year closer to your death. Good luck. - Porco, 01.20 AM

You snort, promptly writing down a reply: Thanks, Pokko. You do know that when I die, I’m gonna haunt you for the rest of your life, right? Good luck.

Happy birthday, honey. I’m sorry, your father and I couldn’t visit you today. Someone needs to look after your grandma. We hope you have a wonderful birthday, and that the year ahead is full of many blessings. We love you. Please come home when you have time. - Mom, 07.29 AM

Oh, and bring Eren with you when you do. - Mom, 07.30 AM

How is he, by the way? Is he still single? - Mom, 07.30 AM

I saw him on TV the other day. He was so handsome that I had to hold your father’s hand to remind me that I have a husband. Hahaha. - Mom, 07.31 AM

You’re twenty-six now, darling. Don’t you think it’s about time for Eren to take your hand in marriage? - Mom, 07.32 AM

“Jesus,” you mutter, not spending another second reading more of her lectures.

Hi. This is Moblit Berner from the Human Resource Department. I’m aware we’ve never really talked before but I want to wish you a happy birthday. Please stay safe, and don’t forget to wash your hands regularly. I heard they just discovered a new virus in China. - Unknown Number, 08.02 AM

The last message pulls a laughter out of you but before you can reply, your thumb already hovers to another unread chat under the name of Armin Arlert. Unlike the others, he has a train of messages that started right at 00.00 until a little bit past one in the morning. You must have put your phone in silent mode, as you didn’t hear these messages coming on—or maybe you were just too tired to notice, sleeping like a log after spending hours working on the next chapter of your novel.

Hey, this is Armin. - 00.00 AM

But you already know that, of course. - 00.00 AM

You maybe can't tell, but even through texts, I'm sweating as I type this. But I digress. - 00.00 AM

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! - 00.01 AM

I’m sorry for writing that in capslocks. - 00.01 AM

I’m not sure how to express my emotions through texts. - 00.01 AM

Just please know that I am very, very excited for you right now. - 00.02 AM

NOT in a weird way! - 00.02 AM

God, I’m sorry. I’m so bad at this. - 00.03 AM

I wish you a vivacious day of love, laughter, and joy. - 00.11 AM

May all of - 00.11 AM

Oops, sorry, I hit enter too quickly before. - 00.11 AM

May all of your birthday wishes come true. - 00.12 AM

I hope that you continue to change the lives of others with your positivity, love, and beautiful spirit. - 00.13 AM

Did I sound too cliche? - 00.21 AM

I did, didn’t I? - 00.23 AM

I sounded like one of those greeting cards, I’m so sorry. - 00.24 AM

Do you happen to know how to unsent messages? - 00.27 AM

Nevermind. I looked it up and it says that this app doesn’t support that kind of feature. - 00.30 AM

I’m sorry. - 00.31 AM

You know what? I’m just going to be honest. - 00.43 AM

I need to get this out of my chest and I think this is the perfect time to say it. - 00.43 AM

I am very grateful to have known you in my life. - 00.43 AM

I am very proud of you. - 00.43 AM

You inspire me. - 00.43 AM

You make me laugh harder than I’ve ever laughed in my life. - 00.44 AM

You’re so funny. - 00.44 AM

You’re cute. - 00.44 AM

I love the way you smile. The little crinkles in your eyes. I love them. - 00.45 AM

I love the way you say my name. You make it sound beautiful. - 00.48 AM

I wish I could hear you say my name right now. - 00.48 AM

I wish I could hear you call my name every day. - 00.49 AM

I wish I could see you every day. - 00.49 AM

You’re amazing, honestly. - 00.51 AM

So amazing. - 00.51 AM

I wish I could spend my days with you all the time because that’s how happy I am when I’m with you. - 00.52 AM

And you’re beautiful. Inside out, you’re beautiful. - 00.52 AM

And I love you for that. - 00.52 AM

WAIT THIS IS NOT A CONFESSION - 00.53 AM

I LOVE YOU AS A FRIEND - 00.53 AM

WELL NO I LIKE YOU MORE THAN A FRIEND BUT I DIDN’T MEAN TO SAY IT LIKE THAT - 00.53 AM

I’M SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY - 00.53 AM

Oh no - 00.54 AM

Now it sounds like I’m screaming at you, aren’t I? - 00.54 AM

Wait I’ll use emoji! - 00.54 AM

😱😱😱😱😱 - 01.11 AM

🤷‍♂️🤦‍♂️🙇‍♂️ - 01.12 AM

🙋‍♂️💦 - 01.12 AM

Am I using these right? I’ve never used emojis before. - 01.12 AM

Oh Lord, I’m so sorry. - 01.12 AM

Please call me when you see these messages, I have things I’d like to explain. - 01.27 AM

I’m sorry. - 01.42 AM

“Oh my God, Armin.” It is almost unbelievable, the amount of joy and warmth that emerge in your chest, just from reading his messages. You can vividly imagine every expression he has as he wrote this—his face contorting in glee, his eyes widening in horror at the end and the shivers in his fingers as he typed this out. The fact that he stayed up late, texted you right when the clock struck twelve, and continued to send messages for over an hour, baffled you. How is it possible for a single soul to bring you so much happiness?

And you would’ve called him if your mind wasn’t shouting at you to check the rest of your messages, in the hope to find something from the person you want to hear the most.

Eren.

You go through your messages, checking every social media account you have, and trace back your call logs. There are no messages, and not a single missed call coming from him. The last call you made was when you spoke to him twenty-eight hours ago, and it only lasted for eight minutes before Levi interrupted the call and asked him to go back to his meeting.

He hasn’t contacted you ever since.

You throw yourself back on the bed, vacant eyes tracing the shape of your ceiling. Funny how you’ve received tons of messages, even from people you don’t know but there you are, feeling like nobody remembered your birthday. Because he’s the only one that matters, isn't he? A voice comes alive inside your head. You’d rather have one message from him and none from everyone else, rather than this.

You smack both palms to your cheeks. Time difference, you muse. It’s probably because of the time difference. There’s no way he’d forget my birthday.

But he’s been so busy these days, another voice comes to interrupt and you start debating yourself for a few minutes until your phone rings and forcibly disrupts your thoughts.

It’s Armin.

Right, you have Armin. You exhale deeply. Forget about Eren for now, and have fun. It's your birthday. You should be happy.

But since when does your happiness depend on him?

“Hi Armin,” you greet, trying to be as cheerful as possible even with your voice still raspy from sleep and an anchor weighing you down.

“H-hi. Sorry, did I wake you up? I saw that you read my messages, so I thought—”

“Have you been checking on your messages to see whether I’ve read them or not?”

“I’m—” He takes a sharp breath. “Y-yeah… I felt like I was doing something wrong, and I was worried that I’d upset you. Is that too weird?“

“Armin, those were the sweetest birthday texts I’ve ever received. Thank you.”

“Oh…” Hearing the amiability in your voice puts him at ease. “You’re welcome.”

You smile, making random motions on your thigh with your index finger. “So, Pieck is throwing a birthday party for me today. You wanna come with me?”

“M-me?” He gulps. “You sure you want me to be there?”

“Of course. I want to celebrate my day with you.”

He quietly gasps, slightly taken aback. “Oh… Well, that’s—that’s great, because, I kinda have something planned too. I wasn’t sure whether you’d want to go, but since you said you’d celebrate it with me, umm—” You wait for him with your lip between your teeth, stopping a grin from breaking. “Would you—would you have dinner with me tonight? I know you have to go to that party, and I don’t know when it’s going to start but if I could just steal you away for an hour—”

“I’d love to,” you hastily say and his breath hitches in his throat. “Armin, you could steal me away for hours, I don’t mind. I’ll let Pieck know that we’ll show up a little late at the party.”

“Oh…” His chuckles are very quiet and light, filled with relief. “Then, I’ll pick you up at, uh… five?”

“Or you can pick me up in an hour? I’m thinking we could also have pancakes for brunch. And maybe catch a movie afterward? I heard Dune is showing.”

He sounds like he’s hyperventilating for a bit, which knowing him, he probably is. “Yes, I’ll—I’ll be there!”

“Great. See you soon, Armin.”

“See you—wait!”

“Yeah?”

He pauses, taking a moment to catch his breath. Then, he shyly says, “Happy birthday.”

And it washes over you, a surge of bliss that starts from your heart and spreads to every inch of your soul, pushing every thought that revolves around a certain boy with jade green eyes to the back of your head. Closing your eyes and focusing solely on Armin, you feel your lips curve up.

“Come over soon so you can tell me that directly,” you say, and in a breathy whisper, you add. “I want to see you.”

A loud thud can be heard as if something just smashed against the ground. Worried, you press your phone closer to your ear. “Armin? What was that? Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine.” He doesn’t sound like it in the slightest. “Just accidentally bumped myself against the coffee table.”

“Oh my God. Will you ever stop doing that?” You laugh. And it feels like a deja vu, so you repeat the same line you said to him one first night you called him. “What, too excited?”

And maybe he notices that too, reciprocating you in the same way. “No, just, umm—happy.”

“And why’s that?”

“I just happen to really love pancakes.”

***

“How did you manage to get this table?” You question Armin once the waiter leaves your table with your orders written in a notepad. The golden-haired boy, who’s dressed very handsomely in a dark grey, slim fit single button blazer and a pair of black pants, sits right before you with a gentle smile constantly strapped to his face. Just like on the day of his photoshoot, Armin’s hair is slicked back, showcasing his temple and his defined eyebrows. He’s wearing contacts as always, his eyeglasses hidden in his satchel. His beautiful cobalt eyes seem to glimmer more radiantly today, filled with the joy and excitement he’s ready to share with you as if it was his birthday you were celebrating, not yours.

“Oh, I’ve made a reservation from, like, a week ago,” he answers, rubbing the tip of his pointed nose that’s somehow always distinctly a bit red.

“You—what?” Astounded, you cover his knuckles with your palm, squeezing his hand. “Armin, that’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“Ah, yeah...” No matter how many weeks have passed with you sharing giggles and friendly touches, Armin’s heart still palpitates instantly whenever he feels your warmth on his skin. “I just, umm… I just wanted to make you happy. I know you kept checking this place out whenever we walked past by it, so…”

And it’s true. You’ve always wanted to visit this place you’re in. It’s a beautiful, brand new Parisian cafe that stands a few blocks away from where you live. As it’s located near your favorite bookstore where you and Armin usually spent your spare time, you couldn’t help but cast a glance or two at the place, captivated by its interior design and the elegant ambiance it provides. You would’ve visited this place a long time ago if it wasn’t so crowded all the time. There had been no chance for you to walk in and get a table.

“I don’t deserve you.” You smile, impressed by his sweetness. “Honestly, you’re too kind for me.”

It feels like a date. And maybe it is a date. How else would you explain the little, thoughtful gestures he makes? How would you explain the way your heart is throbbing whenever you catch him stealing a glance at you? Everyone around you would’ve certainly guessed so.

Armin may be a model with his face being shown in a fashion magazine every month, but he doesn’t attract unnecessary attention as Eren does. He doesn’t need to cover his face, doesn’t need to hide his blue eyes behind thick sunglasses. You can see how people around him, mostly females, often do a double-take when he enters the room, maybe even whisper something about his cute, boyish look to their friends but that’s just about it. He doesn’t have fans taking candid pictures of him as he walks down the street. He doesn’t have girls shouting his name and begging for his signatures in public. Armin is just as normal as a person can be.

Which should’ve worked just fine with you, if you could just move on from Eren. It’s better this way, right? To be with Armin and stay best friends with Eren? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?

Yet, as the night gets darker and you’re surrounded by people congratulating you on your birthday in Pieck’s apartment, you still feel incomplete. Something is missing. No, someone is missing.

“Felt like I could hardly breathe in there,” Armin says as he follows you outside to the balcony, closing the glassy door behind him. There are more than twenty people in the room, and although Pieck’s apartment has a much bigger space than yours, it still feels suffocating. Especially when most of your co-workers are drunk and dancing uncontrollably to Cardi B’s latest hit. Now that you’re outside, breathing the fresh, cold night air, you thought you could breathe but your chest still feels tight, no matter how much air you try to fill into your lungs.

“Are you having fun?” You ask him, leaning against the railing.

“Yeah. I’m not used to partying but this is nice.” He shyly beams at you. “Your friends are great.”

“I’m glad.” You reflect his smile. “Come hang with us whenever you want. We’d love to have you around.”

“Thank you.” He lightly bows his head, acting as polite as ever. “As long as you can, umm, tell Porco to stop handing me beers. I’m not really good with alcohol.”

“Noted.” You laugh, out of courtesy than amusement and he notices.

“What’s wrong?” Armin questions, placing a hand on the railing as he reads your face. “You look like you’re in deep thoughts.”

“Nothing.” You tuck back your phone inside the pocket of your coat, averting your gaze away from him. It’s only been two hours since you have arrived at the party, and here you are, wishing to be alone with your thoughts. “I’m just… tired.”

“Do you want to go home?” His worry is painted vividly in his voice. “I can drive you back.”

“No, you should stay. I can just go take a cab. Go have fun with Pieck and the rest.”

“Without you? No way.” He insists, his hand reaching out to fix the collar of your coat. “Let me drive you home.”

A little bit closer and his hand would brush against your jawline. “Umm… Okay.”

Pieck answers your goodbyes with a pout on her face but she doesn’t force you to stay. Maybe deep down, she knows how restless you feel to be celebrating without Eren. You make sure to speak your gratitude, embracing her with the biggest smile, before you face Porco, who—despites his alpha male demeanor—baked a very cute, delicious red velvet birthday cake for you.

“Come here, you.” You spread your arms widely.

“No,” Porco snorts. “I’m allergic to affection.”

But you hug him anyway, making him stiffen inside your arms. “Let go of me!” He grumbles, trying to shove you away but you stand on your toes, pecking him cutely on his cheek.

“Thank you, Pokko.”

“Ugh, just go already.”

You’re very thankful to be able to call them friends, and you wish you could stop this unsettling feeling that swells larger and larger inside your stomach so you could stay longer with them. But you couldn’t. The more you stay and be surrounded by these people, the more you feel like you wish you were somewhere else, trapped inside a pair of strong arms, and a husky voice whispering your name in your ear.

“Thank you, Armin,” you tell him as you take his hand, climbing down his car. “ You’ve made me very happy today.” Before he closes the door behind you, he leans in to gather something from his glove box.

“I’m glad.” His smile, though still very heartwarming, seems a little bit lonely. It’s always like that whenever you’re about to part as if he wishes he could just freeze the time and stay with you for eternity. “Here.” He hands you a present, tied neatly with a bright blue ribbon that matches his eyes.

“What’s this?”

“Your birthday gift.” He cutely tilts his head to the side, tucking both hands inside the pocket of his pants. “Open it.”

“You really shouldn’t have given me anything,” you tell him with a sheepish smile, untangling the knot before you open the lid. “You’ve already done so much for me to—wait. This is my manuscript.”

“It is, yes,” he chuckles at the bewildered look you display. “With a few notes here and there.”

“What?”

“Go ahead and read it.”

Armin steals the box away from your hands so you can flip through the pages that you’ve read a thousand times before you'd handed them to him that day. Just like what he mentioned, someone—whose handwriting seems unfamiliar—has left a few notes on every page of your chapter. Words are being circled by a red pen, like how a teacher would grade their students’ paper. Comments such as “I’m impressed with the diction you used in this sentence. Very clever.” and “This can be improved. Try using a third person’s perspective, maybe?” are written on the bottom, and you scan your eyes through every note, taking every bit of praise and constructive criticism into mind.

“Did you do this?” You ask with a frown as you read. “These are very detailed. It doesn’t look like your handwriting, though.”

“No, my father did.”

“Your father is an author? Journalist?”

“You can say that.”

“Do I know any of his works?” The question just drifted away from your lips when you reach the end of your manuscript, and there, right before your eyes, is a signature you’ve been wanting to have on every cover of your favorite books.

I can’t wait to read the next chapter.

Love,

Stephen Reeve.

You nearly drop everything in your hands, as you grow still on your feet. Armin holds back a smile, leaning his back against the side of his car. “So, I guess I should’ve told you this earlier but,” he says. “Stephen Reeve is my father.”

You’re seconds away from fainting. Funny how Stephen praised your diction earlier because right now, you can’t even find the words to properly ask a question. “But—you—your last name is Arlert.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” His little laughter is just as soft as the way he looks at you. “Stephen Reeve is just a pen name.”

“I thought your father was a businessman!”

“He is. Writing books is just something he does in his spare time.”

“I—” You have a hand placed above your heart as if you’re afraid it’s going to leap out of your chest if you don’t. “B-but you—”

“You’re starting to sound like me,” he comments, chortling. And you wonder whether it’s the little bit of alcohol that spreads in his system that makes him behave much calmer at the moment, talking more smoothly with his words. Or maybe you’re just too frantic that he seems reserved in comparison.

“Armin, this is too much. Even if he’s your father, he must have been so busy—“

“It’s okay. He promised me he’d review your work if I helped him with his charity work, so—”

“That was for this?!” You shriek, your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “You went away for a week for this?! To get your dad to read my manuscript?!”

Armin scratches the back of his head, grinning. “Yeah. Sorry for suddenly disappearing like that.”

“Oh my God,” you can only say as you cover your mouth with one hand. “My hands are literally shaking right now—I feel like I want to cry—can—can I hug you?”

Armin spreads his arms, his cheeks turning a bit scarlet under the soft glow of the lamppost. “Come here.”

And you jump into his arms, sinking your face in his chest, and muffle your little giggles with the fabric of his shirt. “Armin, thank you so much.”

It’s such a shame you can’t see the look on his face when he returns your embrace, but maybe it’s for the best that you don’t see him fall harder than he already was. It’s like he has stepped off the edge of a cliff, and even though his heart's in my mouth and his stomach is in knots, this—with his hands around your waist and his nose buried in the smooth strands of your hair—this moment right here is where he feels infinite. He’s absolutely enthralled by you. He wants you, every part of you, and if God was kind to him, maybe someday, you could want him too—desperately, intensely, in the only way he knows how.

“Thank you,” you whisper again after a while. “I don’t want to sound like a broken record but I honestly don’t know what else to say.”

His titter is right next to your ear this time, light and beguiling. “Are you happy?”

“Immensely, yes."

He embraces you tighter, and with a sigh, he says, “That’s more than enough for me.”

There are a thousand more words he wants to convey, a thousand more confessions he wants to profess, but there won’t be enough time in the world to make you listen to every bit of his feelings. Once he feels your arms loosening, his bravery starts to waver as well. So he swallows the rest of his words, releasing you from his hold, and clears his throat. “Well, umm… I shouldn’t waste more of your time.”

“You’ll never waste any of my time,” you say, pulling away from him but still close enough to feel his warmth radiating from his body. “You’ve just given me one of the best nights in my life.”

He blushes, looking anywhere but your eyes. “You—You too. You made me feel so happy too.”

You hug him one last time, standing on your toes to lay a gentle kiss on his cheek. To Armin, it feels burning, the fire going down to his stomach, lighting the rest of his body on fire. “Goodnight, Armin. I’ll call you later, okay?”

He smiles, so pure and innocent like how he is as a person. “I’ll be waiting for that call.”

***

Eren still hasn’t called.

In a few minutes, the clock will strike twelve and it will just be another day. There’s an abundance amount of joy that you felt today, and you have received more love and support from your friends than you could even imagine. Never would you have thought someone like Pieck, throwing a birthday party for you; or Porco, baking a birthday cake; or Armin, with his very thoughtful, intimate gift that no one else could've given to you. You’ve been so blessed, you should’ve wept in joy. But here you are, staring at your phone while feeling so hollow inside, wondering if you should call first and let yourself go from the shackles that bringing you down.

What if he’s busy? He said he had a concert today. What if he just doesn’t have time to call?

You have read your manuscript more than five times in a row by now, partially because you were desperate to find a way to distract you from him. Funny how all these notes written by your most adored author himself, ones that sparked so much joy and excitement within you just a couple of hours ago, have turned into nothing more than a few scribblings on paper.

Right now, you just wish for one thing.

You just want to hear him say, happy birthday.

You pull your knees to your chest as you sit with your spine plastered against your headboard. Loneliness envelops you like a blanket, and you bury your face in your arms. “Eren… I—”

Your phone rings. You nearly jump out of your skin, your heart running a thousand miles per hour. A glimmer of hope bubbles inside your chest and once you see his name written on your screen, the butterflies inside your stomach are ready to spread their wings.

“H-hello?” You croak out, voice awfully shaky that you have to clear your throat twice to stop you from sounding too obvious. You don’t want him to hear the desperation in your voice—of how much you’ve been waiting for his call.

“Hey.” Eren, unlike you, sounds unusually energetic. “You answered right away. Waiting for me to call?”

“N-no, of course not.” You emphasize with a snort. “I was—” you shut your eyes closed, concentrating with every fiber of your being to stay calm. “I was just texting Pieck.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Is there… something wrong?” You ask him. Now that a few seconds have passed and Eren still hasn’t congratulated you, the voices in your head start to scream again: he’s definitely has forgotten about your birthday.

“Nothing. Just felt like I wanted to hear your voice.” Eren chuckles. There’s a little pause that makes you wait with bated breath before he heaves a longing sigh. “God, I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you respond, feeling your heart warmed but not enough to wash the rest of your uneasiness away. “I thought you were going to hold another concert today.”

“Yeah, I’m on stage right now, actually.” There’s no music, no murmurs in a distance and not a single sound of a crowd cheering can be heard. You can only hear Eren’s breathing on the phone, the rest is silence. “I just finished the first half.”

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows, half-asking yourself whether you heard him right. Is he backstage? No, it’s still too silent. “But—Then why are you calling?”

“Because I wanna say something.” Then, he chuckles as he corrects his words. “Well, they wanna say something.”

“I’m not following you, Eren.”

“Just listen.” Rustling sounds can be heard as he moves. Endless questions are emerging in your head as your frown deepens, but you decide to keep yourself reticent and wait. The ticking sound of your clock is the only thing sounding louder than your own heartbeat in your ears. What is he doing? You wonder, and not three seconds later, you find your answer.

“Happy birthday to you.”

Your eyes widen shortly in disbelief. A crowd—no, a thousand of people are singing Happy Birthday to you, vocalizing the words so loudly, like a choir in a Sunday morning. Every voice in the venue echoes directly to your speaker, forcing the tiny hairs on your nape to raise and causing your heartrate to escalate through the roof. Even so, you still feel like you’re dreaming. Because how can this be real?

“You guys sound beautiful,” you can hear Eren’s voice booming through the speakers. “One more time, everyone, come on!”

They follow his count, singing the same song one more time from the top. They include your name in the song, and what an amazing experience it is to have your name called warmly by a thousand strangers.

Jean’s voice chimes in as he shouts to the phone. “Hey, dumbo, happy birthday!”

You can hear the sounds of Eren’s footsteps racing to the other side of the stage, looming over the drums to give Reiner a chance to speak. “Hey,” Reiner says. “Happy birthday from us all. Wish you could see the show.”

“T-thank you,” you reply, awkward and embarrassed and Reiner laughs, deep and heartwarming.

Eren steals the phone back, strapping it to his ear. “Happy birthday, baby,” he vocalizes, half-chuckling half-catching his breath. His words place the last hit on the dam that holds your tears and you turn into a sobbing mess, body convulsing as you bury your face in your pillow. The joy that you felt from having Empire and their crowd singing happy birthday to you is intense, but it’s nothing compared to when you heard him whisper those three words to you. It feels like years have passed with you waiting for him to say the words and now that he’s said them, you can’t speak. The more you try to form a word, the harder you choke on your tears.

“Aaw, you guys made her cry,” he speaks to his microphone, and a mix between shouts and waves of laughter echoes through the venue.

“Eren,” you bring his attention back to you. “I—I thought we agreed not to give a-any gifts on our birthdays.” It’s hard to speak between your sobs, but you managed to convey the words.

“I didn’t give you anything,” Eren replies. “They were the ones who did. I just asked them a favor.”

“You’re terrible.” You sniff, wiping your tears away as you laugh. “But… Thank you, Eren…”

“You’re welcome,” he softly says after a pause. “Sorry for being late. I wanted to call you the second you turned older but I thought, it would be a better surprise if I could get the crowd to sing with me. Did you like it?”

“Did I like having a thousand people singing happy birthday to me?” You’re laughing between your sobs. “Eren, I love it.”

“Good.” You can vividly imagine him smiling as he says the words. He speaks his next line in a whisper, away from his microphone and the rest of the world to hear. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, fluttering their wings. “I… I want to kiss you too…”

There’s a sheepish laugh, and you wonder whether he’s scratching his cheek with his finger as he speaks, “We’ll do that later. Plenty of that. Now I gotta go back and perform. I have a thousand people to thank for that birthday gift.”

“Right, yeah.” You straighten your back, trying to stop the rest of your tears from falling. “G-Good luck. Not that you need it.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you in four days, okay?”

You nod, biting on your lip as you feel they’re curving into a smile. “Then… I will be waiting for you at home.”

Your face warms at your words but you don’t feel any regret saying it. You don’t care if it sounds too intimate, or something a lover would say to another. You just want to be honest for once. You owe him that much.

Eren doesn’t respond, and the three seconds that pass by in silence make your heart race in worry, wondering if you’ve crossed the line. “Eren—“

“I can’t wait to be home,” he whispers.

The call ends but his voice rings through your mind for hours, as well as the smile he plants on your lips.

***

Next Chapter

Thank you @justasketch for reviewing this for me and no, I will never forgive you for switching sides to Armin but I'm glad you crawled back to Eren in the end lol

Tagging @tasteless @l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @luvtaromilktea @didiyogo @xximthefoolxx-blog @coiloves @erenbean @tehehebri @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby thanks for reading, lovelies! Let me know what you think!

Special shoutout to my birthday girl @melekhsn Have a blast today, darling, and I hope you'll like the new chapter! ❤️

749 notes · View notes

babymetaldoll · 4 years ago

Text

"Victory" (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

Requested: Yes

Summary: Spencer's daughter hates her father's girlfriend. But when he is in prison, life pushes them to finally get along.

Warning: Cursing, a little angst, a mean teenager, and fluff.

Word count: 5,4K

A/N: Hello, pretty people! How are you? I've missed you! Life has been a little messy and filled with angst, so writing hasn't come easy in the lastest weeks. Hope you like this story, and I hope I can bring you a new one soon 😉

Masterlist

»»————-　　————-««

Spencer's daughter hated her dad's new girlfriend. And she wasn't subtle about it. She hated that her father was now dating, 'cos she didn't want to share his love. So now she didn't even want to be around him anymore 'cos he was so happy, it was annoying.

It wasn't that she hated her father, 'cos she loved him. But she was never going to face the fact she was jealous. She didn't want to share Spencer with anyone because he was all the family she knew, and they were a team.

Victoria Reid was twelve years old. She had grown up alone with her dad 'cos her mother had ditched the two of them soon after she was born. Spencer had tried to explain to his daughter her mom had left 'cos she wasn't ready to deal with the responsibility of being a mother, which was true. He, on the other hand, was happy to know he was going to be a father, and he repeated over and over again she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

That was true.

When Spencer and his ex found out they were going to be parents, he was ecstatic. He couldn't wait to hold his baby in his arms and watch them grow. He didn't know his girlfriend had other plans, though, and soon after Victoria was born, she had left the two of them and never looked back.

Spencer wasn't going to lose the chance of being a dad. Even when he knew he was too young, Reid was ready to raise that baby on his own and give her all the love he had.

That's why he and Victoria were so close. Spencer was the only parent she had ever had. He was her world. And though Spencer was only 24 when Tori was born, he had given her his best.

Tori was the BAU's baby girl. Everybody in the team was a part of her life because she had grown up with them. Penelope was her best friend and godmother. Victoria would spend a lot of time with her while her dad was away on a case. Derek was her cool uncle. He helped her train to get into the basketball team and taught her how to dance. JJ was the closest to a mother figure in her life. Tori would spend time with her after school, playing with Henry. Spencer always said JJ was like a sister for him, and that's why they were all like family. Tori actually called Henry and Michel her cousins.

Emily was like her best friend. They could talk about anything, and at least twice a month, they would go out together shopping, just the two of them. Spencer always respected his daughter's relationship with his friend 'cos they were their little extended family. Tori called Rossi "Nono." He had taught her himself, and she loved going to his mansion, 'cos he always had new video games to play with her.

But then came (Y/N). She had joined the team when Victoria was only six years old, and for the first five years, they got along just fine. (Y/N) would come along shopping with her and Emily, sometimes she took Tori out for some pastries, and talked about bands, boys. Victoria loved her.

That until the incident.

She hated (Y/N) after the incident.

Victoria refused to talk to her after THE INCIDENT.

It was a warm spring afternoon, Spencer and (Y/N) had the afternoon off, and they were at his apartment... heavily making out on the couch. That's why they lost track of time.

(Y/N) and Spencer had started dating a few months before. They had been in love with each other for years. Still, neither of them had acted on it until Rossi's birthday party, when they had a little too many drinks and finally confessed their feelings. They wanted to take things slow, but when you make out in front of the whole team, it might be a little harder imagined.

But they had decided to wait for the right time to tell Victoria. But, unfortunately, the right time didn't come soon enough.

- "Dad!! I'm home!!"- Victoria opened the front door and froze in shock at the scene going on in front of her. The twelve-year-old had asked her best friend's mother to drop her home earlier when Penelope told her Spencer had already gone home. In Garcia's defense, she had no idea what was going on in Reid's residence, and if she had known, she would have never let Victoria know her dad was home.

(Y/N) widened her eyes and quickly grabbed a pillow to cover herself. She was shirtless, sitting on Spencer's lap. She still had her bra on (thank god), but anyone could tell that scene was leading to the bedroom in a few seconds.

- "Shit!"- Spencer whispered and closed his eyes as he realized what was going on. (Y/N) held her breath as she stared into the young teen's eyes. Victoria didn't know what to do or what to say, so she simply ran to her room and slammed the door.

- "Ok... so I think Tori knows about us"- (Y/N) tried to ease the mood and smiled at her boyfriend as she put on her shirt. But Spencer sighed and covered his face with both hands- "Oh, come on. It doesn't have to be a bad thing. Let me talk to her."

- "No, (Y/N), let me talk to her first."- Spencer stood up and kissed (Y/N) 's nose- "I know she is mad, and I should be the one dealing with her anger."

Reid knew his daughter well enough to anticipate her behavior. People had often told him he could be a little passive-aggressive when he was upset. And his daughter was just like him.

- "Victoria, open the door!"- he said and waited a few seconds after knocking.

- "Go away!"- the teenager yelled, laying on her bed. She felt betrayed and confused. But most of all, she felt angry that her father had decided to have a girlfriend. He had no right to do such a thing. He had to take care of her and her grandma. No one else.

- "Victoria, we need to talk about this!"

- "You seemed too busy with your girlfriend to talk to me, dad. So go away!"

- "Victoria Marie!"- Spencer knocked on the door but got no answer from his daughter. (Y/N) heard it all from the couch and tried to think of a way to fix things with the young girl.

Sadly, it wasn't going to be easy, and in the months that followed, everything was far from being normal again.

- "I hate her!"- Victoria huffed and left her book aside. Spencer was trying to explain to her why (Y/N) would stay with her and Diana while he took a short work trip for the weekend. But the girl didn't want to hear a word about it.

- "You used to get along with her just fine until we started dating."- Spencer tried to dialogue with his daughter. Still, it was honestly getting harder and harder each time they touched the subject.

- "Used to. You just said it. I have the right to change my mind about people. Why can't I stay with auntie Penelope for the weekend?"

- "Because I want you to make an effort and try to get along with (Y/N) again. Victoria, we've been through this before. I love you, and that's not going to change just because I am dating (Y/N)."

- "This is so unfair! I hate you!!"

Spence tried to stay calm, but after over four-month having the same argument almost every day, he was losing it. Victoria stormed out and slammed her bedroom door behind her back. Maybe it was better not to push it, Spencer thought, defeated, and called Penelope to ask her if his daughter could spend the weekend with her, 'cos he had to travel. Maybe Victoria and (Y/N) weren't going to get along if he forced them to spend time together.

Everyone had already tried to talk to her about what was going on: JJ, Emily, Penelope. But Victoria wasn't ready to give in. She wanted to hate (Y/N), and nothing was going to change that. Or so she thought.

The day Penelope showed up in Victoria's school and announced her something had happened to her dad was engraved in the girl's memory forever as the worst day of her life. Her father had been arrested in Mexico, but Garcia had assured her, the whole team was working to bring him home safe. Meanwhile, she would stay with her in her apartment (she was already there anyway), and Diana would stay home with her nurse.

Victoria's heart was broken. She was basically alone in the whole world. Her father was her anchor. Her protector. Her superhero. Her best friend. And now, all of a sudden, he was gone, and though everybody told her it was going to be ok, she knew it wasn't.

- "Hey,"- (Y/N) walked into Penelope's office and found Victoria doing her homework- "Pen told me you were here, and I thought maybe you'd like one of these."

The young SSA said and handed the girl a box of fresh chocolate frosted with sprinkled donuts and a strawberry milkshake. Her favorites.

But Victoria didn't reply. Instead, she looked at (Y/N) right in the eyes, not moving a muscle, and then returned to her homework.

It had been two weeks since Spencer had been accused of murder, and he had been transferred to Virginia. But the team was far from solving the case.

- "Ok, Tori, please stop this. I know you don't like me dating your dad, but this is not the right time to fight. I know..."- (Y/N) made a short pause and took a deep breath before resuming her idea- "I know how you feel."

- "No. You don't."- Victoria Reid's voice was loud and clear, like thunder, hitting earth with anger. So clear, in fact, (Y/N) widened her eyes when she heard her.

- "You have no idea how I feel. Your dad ain't in jail accused of killing some woman in Mexico. You have no right to tell me that!"

- "My boyfriend and best friend in the whole world is in jail right now, and it doesn't matter if I work myself to death 18 hours every single fucking day; I still can't find the way to help him. I feel lost and alone, and most of all, scared, 'cos I've come to realize I have no idea how to live without him anymore. I'm guessing that's very close to what you feel."

(Y/N) poured her heart with complete honesty to her boyfriend's daughter, fighting the tears back, though you could feel the desperation in her voice. She didn't know if it would be of any use, but she had to take that from her chest. She missed Spencer so much she felt she was going insane. She had no idea what to do.

Victoria stared at her, furrowing her eyes and pouting. She didn't want to cry in front of (Y/N) 'cos she didn't want her trying to console her.

- "Just because you are dating him doesn't mean you have to take care of me. I can take care of myself."- Tori said and looked at the donut. She was hungry, they looked delicious, but the teenager didn't want to accept any gift coming from (Y/N).

- "I am not here because you are my boyfriend's daughter. I thought you were a cool kid way before I fell in love with him."- (Y/N) tried to calm herself down and sat across the table from Victoria- "And I am not trying to steal him from you. I just wanna... make him happy."

- "We were happy,"- the teenager's comeback was like a slap on (Y/N) 's face, but she did her best not to take it personally. She knew it was useless fighting with a teenager.

- "I have a visit scheduled for tomorrow. If you'd like, we could go together."

Tori held her breath. She hadn't seen her father since he left for Mexico. Of course, Victoria wanted to see him and hug him. It was all she wanted in the whole world. But... she didn't want to be friendly with (Y/N).

- "If I go... it doesn't mean I like you."- the young girl whispered.

- "I know"- (Y/N) nodded, feeling already triumphant.

- "And it doesn't mean I'm ok with you dating him."

- "I understand. I just know you miss him, Tori. I really know how you feel, and I'm gonna help you whenever I get a chance."- Victoria didn't answer; she just sighed and grabbed a donut. (Y/N) tried not to smile, feeling she had a small victory.

Spencer couldn't believe it when he saw his little girl waiting for him sitting next to (Y/N) instead of his lawyer in the small grey room. Victoria stood up and ran to him the second the door opened and wrapped her arms around her father as tight as possible.

(Y/N) looked at the guards, thankful neither of them had tried to stop the teenager.

Spencer kissed his daughter's cheek a few times and whispered how sorry he was to put her under those circumstances. He didn't know what to do or what to say. He was speechless. A part of him hated the idea of his daughter visiting him in jail, but he also missed her too much to argue with (Y/N) for bringing her over.

- "I'll go fill a few forms. Be right back"- (Y/N) whispered and saw Spencer's warm smile as he mouthed "Thank you," still hugging his daughter. She whispered, "I love you," and walked outside the room. She knew Victoria would appreciate a few minutes alone with her father, and she didn't want to take that away from them. She really wanted to make Spencer and Tori happy, and spending time together was what they needed.

- "I know this is hard, peanut, but we'll get through it. I'll be out in a few weeks. I promise"- Spencer held his daughter's hands as they sat across the table.

- "I miss you"- her voice was a soft whisper, as she kept trying not to cry anymore. She didn't want to make him feel guilty, sad, or anxious.

- "Me too. How are you? How is living with aunt Penelope going?"

- "Ok... we watch a lot of movies."

- "And school?"- Tori shrugged.

- "Ok, I guess."

- "Victoria..."

- "I got a C on my history paper."

- "Baby..."

- "I know, I know, I should have tried harder, but I really didn't want to do it."

Spencer was torn between lecturing his daughter for getting a bad grade and actually telling her it was ok, 'cos they were going through a rough patch. It was obvious she might get bad grades, all things considered.

- "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you"- it was all Spencer managed to whisper.

- "Don't say that, dad. I'm sorry I slacked off."

- "You know, you could ask (Y/N) for help,"- Spencer suggested, but Tori just rolled her eyes, annoyed- "She has a master in the subject..."

- "Dad, please don't force me to talk to her."

- "I'm just saying... you don't have to be her best friend, just ask for help when needed, especially when it comes to school. Besides, it's clear she isn't a bad person if she brought you here today."

- "She just wants to win me over."- Tori mumbled and crossed her arms on her chest. But she knew her dad was right in one thing: (Y/N) had done a pretty good thing taking her to see her dad and letting them spend time together on their own.

Victoria thought she was losing her mind after three months had passed and her father was still in jail. It didn't matter that (Y/N) took her every Saturday morning to visit, played her favorite music, and bought her all the pastries she loved. She needed to live with her father again and do all the small things they loved: making breakfast together, playing scrabble, taking long walks in the park, eating ice cream. Tori even missed her father's annoying habits. She missed his rambling and how he always had an answer for everything, even for the things she didn't want to talk about with him.

Spencer was an amazing father, no questions asked, and Victoria Reid knew she couldn't ask for a better dad than him. She just wanted him back.

But things weren't going to improve soon.

When the team found out Diana Reid had been kidnapped, (Y/N) had to take a minute and lock herself in the bathroom to cry her heart out. She felt bad things were never going to cease, and she didn't want to tell Victoria. The girl had already been through so much, adding the abduction of her grandmother wasn't fair. Tori was just twelve. She shouldn't be going through all that.

- "Victoria?"

Prentiss decided she was going to be the one to tell the girl what was going on, and (Y/N) offered herself to look for her. She was in Rossi's office, reading a book curled on his comfy couch. That poor kid almost lived at the BAU by then.

- "My homework is done."- she replied, not taking her eyes from the page she was reading.

- "That's good. And what are you reading?"- Tori sighed and showed her the cover- "Something Wicked this way comes," I love that book"- (Y/N) smiled and took a look around.

- "Figured my father forced you to read it."

- "Actually, I read it when I was ten, and it's one of my favorite books."- (Y/N) looked at Victoria, but the teenager kept pretending to read, ignoring her- "Emily needs to talk to you."

- "And why are you here? Why didn't aunt Emily come? Are you her secretary?"- there was something about Victoria's attitude that reminded (Y/N) of Reid.

- "I wanted to see you, see how you were doing, and take you to the conference room"- Tori sighed and stood up. She hoped Emily had good news about her father, 'cos she was honestly going insane.

But of course, Prentiss didn't have any good news.

- "I'm sorry, Tori, but... you are going to have to stay here tonight"- the girl frowned, confused, and looked at the whole team around her. Everybody looked like they hadn't slept in days. Which, by the way, was very accurate.

- "Why?"

- "'Cos we are going to have to..."- Emily paused and held her breath, staring at her niece's eyes.- "I'm sorry, Tori, but this is the truth: the woman who framed your father has kidnapped Diana, and I'm scared she might try to get you too. So until we catch her, the safest place to be is here, at the BAU. With us."

Tori gasped and covered her mouth with both hands as tears filled her eyes in a second.

- "Nana? Is she ok?"

- "We don't know yet, but we are working to bring her home safe as soon as possible"- JJ caressed Tori's arm and tried to hold her, but she pushed her away mad frowned.

- "You keep saying that, you keep telling me you are working to bring my family home safe, but so far, you haven't done anything!! I am still alone! Dad is in jail, and everybody knows he is innocent! And now nana is gone too!!"

- "Baby, we know it is hard, but..."- Emily wanted to explain to Victoria everything was more complex than they had expected, but the girl covered her ears and shook her head, yelling as she stormed out of the room

- "I don't wanna hear you!! I want my dad!!"

It was painful to hear those things, 'cos the team was doing the best they could for Reid and his family, but they could understand the frustration and, most of all, the fear that little girl felt.

- "I'll talk to her,"- (Y/N) said and turned to Emily- "You guys continue what you were doing. I'll try to calm her down."

- "Are you sure you wanna go?"- Emily asked and cut (Y/N) a short smile.

- "Yeah, for once, she is mad at all of us, not just me."

The young SSA walked to Garcias's office, where Tori was hidden underneath a desk, crying.

- "Hey."

- "Leave me alone."

- "I know I'm the last person you wanna be with right now, and I am sorry I can't do anything to make you feel better. I can only promise you this: we are doing all we can to bring your dad and your grandmother back home safe." - (Y/N) whispered as she walked slowly towards the girl, who sobbed, whipping off the tears from her eyes.

- "Just leave me alone. I want to be alone,"- Tori mumbled and wrapped her arms around herself, sobbing.

- "I'm not gonna leave you alone, Tori. You are not alone here with us."

- "I am alone!! I want my daddy!! I need my daddy!!"- the girl continued crying her eyes out, hidden underneath the desk. (Y/N) kneeled next to her and sat on the floor.

- "Come here"- it was a bold move, 'cos (Y/N) knew the girl was going to reject her, but she didn't care. She couldn't deal with her sadness, and it scared her to think how bad the child was feeling. So, (Y/N) opened her arms and moved the teen closer to her.

Surprisingly, the girl didn't reject her. Instead, she cried against the fabric of (Y/N) 's sweater and sobbed, shaking, as (Y/N) caressed her hair carefully.

- "I swear, we are not gonna rest until he is free and until Diana is home."

- "I want my family back,"- Victoria mumbled and sighed.

- "You'll get it. I swear, I'll do everything I can to bring them back to you."

That was the first time since (Y/N) started dating Spencer that Victoria let her close. In the middle of the mess they were all lost into, it felt like a little break of peace. Another small victory for the young woman.

(Y/N) didn't mind spending the whole night awake going through an endless pile of files if it meant there was a chance to bring Spencer back home. Tori stayed in Rossi's office, where she made something that looked pretty much like a fort on the couch, with blankets and pillows, to hide from the rest of the world.

It was heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time, looking at the girl hidden there, trying to read, trying to draw, trying to do anything to take her mind from reality. Penelope brought her something to eat, but she rejected it, saying she wasn't hungry. Emily and JJ had tried to talk to her, but Tori kindly said she wanted to be alone. Even Morgan had called her and announced to her he was taking a plane from Chicago to help the team looking for Diana.

None of that cheered Victoria up.

- "I bought you this,"

Around ten, (Y/N) opened Rossi's door and walked in, holding a box of frosted chocolate donuts with sprinkles.

- "They always cheer your dad up, so I'm counting they will do the trick with you too"- the young woman tried to joke but found Victoria crying quietly insider her fort.

- "Please, just leave me alone,"- she whispered and hid her face with both her hands. (Y/N) didn't pay attention and sat with her inside the fort.

- "Not a chance."

- "I really don't wanna do this now, just leave me alone,"- the girl sighed, defeated, and continued crying.

- "Come here, I told you, you are not alone."

- "I am alone, (Y/N)! My dad is in jail, my grandma is kidnapped, and my mother left me 'cos she didn't love me!"

- "No, baby, don't say that"- (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Tori and kissed the top of her head.

- "I know my mom didn't want to have me, and maybe she was right... maybe I am cursed, and all this is my fault."

- "Victoria Marie Reid, you are talking senseless" (Y/N) held the girl's shoulder and looked into her eyes.

- "You are an adorable young girl who deserves the best in the world. Why did this happen? I don't know, bad shit happens in life, and we must try to learn something from it. That's it. There's no reason or cause. Shit happens, baby, but we must raise stronger than before. You are an incredible young girl, and I know your dad is proud of you. I am proud of you, 'cos you've been so courageous and brave."

- "You are just saying that 'cos you are with my dad."

- "No. I would say that even if I hated your dad. You know why? 'Cos I am not lying, you are awesome, and I love you, get that into your head. And you are not alone, 'cos I am here, see?"- (Y/N) ran her thumb on Tori's cheek, whipping off a few of her tears- "I'm here even when you don't want me to be, so I don't know if you can tell, but you are doomed, you can't get rid of me now. I'm like a disease, but a good one... I don' know if there's a good disease. I'm sure your dad would have the answer for my random comment right now."

Both Victoria and (Y/N) chuckled at the same time, and the girl nodded.

- "He definitely would..."

- "He would also lecture me why I shouldn't give you sugar after dinner, but he is not here, and I am not telling him, so please don't tell him 'cos he is going to be mad at me... and at you."- (Y/N) handed Tori the box of donuts, and the girl smiled.

- "I won't tell him."

- "Great, we have our own little sugary secret. Eat all the donuts you want; I'm going to be with the team in the conference room. Emily has a meeting early morning with the judge."- (Y/N) kissed the top of Vitoria's head and stood up.

- "If you need anything, I'm across the hall."- the SSA said, and the girl nodded, chewing a donut.

- "Thank you, (Y/N)"

By the next day, the miracle had happened. Victoria couldn't stop crying when (Y/N) announced she was taking Spencer back home. Tori stood in front of his father's girlfriend and felt how the tears filled her eyes in less than a minute. Happy tears, for once.

(Y/N) smiled at her, glad to know the young girl was going to have her life back. It surprised her when Tori hugged her, wrapping her arms around her tight. (Y/N) stayed still for an instant, trying to understand what was happening. She hugged Victoria and kissed the top of her head. The child was crying, and suddenly, so was she. The nightmare was over. At least a part of it. They still needed to find Diana. But the fact they were going to have Reid back was already giving everybody the peace of mind they needed to finish the task.

(Y/N) held Spencer's hand tight all the way from the prison to the BAU. He kept his eyes locked on their hands, fingers tangled together. He couldn't believe it was actually happening. He couldn't believe he was a free man.

- "How's Tori?"- he whispered and turned to his girlfriend. Penelope and Luke were in the car with them, but somehow, Spencer could only register the presence of his girlfriend. Not because he didn't care about his friends, but because he could only take just a small amount of information at the time. It was all too much for him at that moment.

- "Good. She has been incredibly strong."

- "Did you tell her about mom?"- Spencer was afraid to ask but needed to know what was going on with his daughter. (Y/N) nodded and sighed.

- "We decided it was better if she knew what was happening, we had to keep her at the BAU, and she was going to get suspicious she couldn't go to Penelope's... sorry."

- "Don't be. You did what was best for her."- Spencer turned to his girlfriend and smiled at her for a second. It was a short, sweet smile. Almost shy. But it was enough to warm her heart and wake the butterflies in her stomach. She was so in love with Spencer Reid, everything he did fluster her.

Victoria thought her heart was about to burst as he waited for her father to arrive. Spencer looked at (Y/N) one last time, and she squeezed his hand kindly, smiling when the elevator door opened, and all he heard was:

- "Daddy!!"- Tori yelled and ran to hug Spencer as soon as she saw him. He couldn't even step out of the elevator when his daughter nearly tackled him, wrapping her arms around him tight.

- "My baby!"- he whispered and spun her in the air a few times- "Are you ok?"- he held her face with both hands and took a good look at her. She was crying but smiling as she nodded.

- "I'm so happy to see you, dad."

- "I missed you so, so much"- Spencer kissed the top of her head and sighed. (Y/N) smiled, and whipped off the tears from her eyes as she stared at the scene. Garcia and Luke stood next to her, enjoying a brief moment of happiness and peace.

- "Me more,"- Victoria whispered and hugged Spencer again- "I swear I'm never going to fight with you again."

- "I'm taking a mental note of that,"- he answered and felt her body shaking as she giggled. Spencer hadn't heard his daughter laugh, giggle, or even watched her smile in the three months he had spent away from her. And that sound was sweet and warm, like a balm to his soul.

- "I'm sorry, Spencer... but, we have to..."- Emily interrupted the moment and smiled at her friend. They all knew they still had to do one more thing before celebrating. They had to take Diana Reid back home safe and sound. Victoria let her father go and smiled at him.

- "I love you, dad."

- "I love you too, princess."

And as the team walked to the conference room to brief Spencer about the case and update him with the latest information, (Y/N) felt someone hold her hand.

- "Thank you,"- Victoria whispered and cut her a smile that warmed her heart.

- "Come here,"- she answered and turned around to wrap her arms around her for a second. Spencer looked at them, and for once, he didn't know what to say. Victoria and (Y/N) just stood in the middle of the hall, hugged for a few minutes, and Reid couldn't believe it. It was so heartwarming and emotional; he really didn't know how to react.

- "Come on, dad!! You are going to miss the movie!"- Victoria yelled and set the popcorn on the coffee table.

- "You can pause it!"- Spencer yelled from his desk, where he was finishing writing a letter for his mother.

- "Or you can hurry!"- Tori answered and sat on the couch.

- "Here's your tea, your highness"- (Y/N) walked to the girl holding a tray filled with cups and more snacks- "Come on, honey! We are not waiting for you!"

Three months after prison and life had never been so good for Spencer, Victoria, and (Y/N).

- "I had never seen you so eager to watch a Marvel movie, since when are you two fans of Thor?"- Spencer walked to the living room, hearing his girlfriend and daughter laugh.

- "Always, huge fan."- (Y/N) smiled and tapped on the couch. Reid sat between his two women and sighed.

- "I can smell the sarcasm in the air."

- "No, honey. We love Thor, right Tori?"

- "Yes! Big fans, huge, the biggest fans"- Spencer looked at his daughter and raised an eyebrow.

- "Ok, I'll buy it. Let's watch the movie."

(Y/N) and Tori giggled at the very same moments like they were sharing a secret joke Spencer couldn't understand, but he didn't really matter. He was happy, his heart was content, and there was nothing more perfect that minute, 'cos his family was all on the same couch, watching a movie, enjoying an afternoon together. Like he had always dreamt of.

----

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@all-tings-diego @spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy

#Spencer Reid #Criminal Minds #Matthew gray Gubler #Spencer reid x reader #babymetaldoll writes #criminal minds rewrite #fluff #angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst

529 notes · View notes