#I hope to have ch 2 by tonight.

[pascals-doll]

GATÚBELA

ellie williams x reader

『••✎••』 in which you go to a party to forget about your cheating ex, who would’ve thought you’d find yourself falling in love at some reggaeton function. | WC: 9.3K

🫧 THIS IS A SERIES | FOR ALL PARTS GO HERE

🫧 SERIES MASTERLIST | CH.2 HERE

🫧 with all the talk in the fandom of inclusivity and needing a plot, my ass was busy whippin up exactly that! 💋 i hope you babies enjoy genuinely since this is my first series!

🫧 karol g and baby miko is 2846% of my playlist tbh

🫧 description: MODERN AU! FUNCTION BEHAVIOR, SUGGESTIVE CONTENT ONLY! latina!reader, detailed description of reader having tan/tawny brown skin!, bff!dina, mentions of drinking and smoking, mentions of toxic relationship, mentions of reader being cheated on, READER IS NOT IDENTIFIED WITH HER SEXUALITY (SHE HIGHKEY KNOW SHE GAY THO SHE NOT DUMB), mentions twerking/yiking (lol when i said function behavior i meant it)!, cocky masculine!ellie, mention of y/n once (___), use of nick name (mama), kissing!

CHAPTER ONE

“fuck him girl, what you need is a good drink and a good dance”

your dearest bestfriend Dina says, passing you the ‘Dutch’ you rolled.

the ‘him’ in question was your now ex-boyfriend. you had walked into his home 2 nights ago.

at first, you found him on his bed, he already seemed startled to begin with which was a dead-giveaway already then the girl walking out of his restroom in your towel was enough to have you walking through that front door.

you couldn’t lie and say getting cheated on didn’t hurt. it just didn’t hurt in the way you thought it would. if anything, you had felt an undertone of overwhelming relief even with that pang of pain.

“so are we outside? or are we outside?” your bestfriend asks, actually giving you no option as she is already looking through your closet.

“how could i ever tell you no” you spoke out through the exhalation of your smoke before handing her the blunt.

“girl, we are walking farther than our waiting spot!” your half-way tipsy-self giggles out, grabbing Dina as you both lean on the staircase outside of Dina’s apartment building.

the sounds of heels clacking on the concrete through the shared tipsy giggles you both shared as the both of you begin to feel the shots of Don Julio and Fireball Dina offered as a pregame.

“uber comes in 6” Dina says, before putting her phone away inside her big black fur coat that temporarily covered her matching black two-peice.

it was a corset top that hugged her breasts perfectly with the matching flared leggings that had cut-outs on her thick hips, finishing it off with white heels.

“enough time for a smoke” you smirk out which Dina returned before beginning to dig in your mini white purse.

you were wearing a skin-tight halter white dress sparkled with light gold gems that brought out the natural bronze of your skin, hugging all your curves perfectly, exposing your tattoos that sprinkled around your arms, and your thick gold hoops that had ‘CHULA’ written through.

once you had what was left of the blunt from earlier in between your lips, you began to pull out your light from in your long dark-brown leather coat that was complimeted by your dark brown heeled-boots.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

flashing lights of green, red, and blue fading into each other through each flash as you both make your way through the house-party; music from the loud speakers ringing through the both of your ears.

the body heat from all the dancing sweaty bodies engulfing the blaring atmosphere as you pushed through different to people to find your way to the drink station.

“what can i get you ladies, tonight” the server says, mixer in his hand as he was mid-way of making this woman’s mojito.

Dina, of course using all her little flirtatious tricks to rouse free drinks out of him.

you both walk away with accomplished smiles, your pure lime Daiquiri in hand and cherry Mojito in Dina’s.

Dina was also able to convince the server to take care both of your coats, everything that was in your coats now being in your purse’s. he hung your jackets on these hooks right next to where the kitchen begins and home-bar ends.

“may we get swept off our feet by a hot duo!” Dina cheers out, putting her glass in the air.

“amen sista’!” you clink your glasses together before walking off into the sweaty-crowded dance floor.

♫₊˚.🎧 now playing: gatúbela

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

the loud speaker boomed the slight beats, immediately feeling each of the beats go through your body as you feel yourself get hyped to one of your favorite songs begin to play; knowing the drop is gonna come.

it felt like it was destined as you hit the dance floor. immediately grabbing Dina’s hand where she knew exactly what her dance-crazed friend was gonna do with the little liquor in her system; aka you.

you felt the need to make it to the middle of the dance floor before song actually began.

you heard the lyrics engulfing your ear, the drank being the only thing to influence you and your body right now.

Dina automatically taking your free hand, putting it up in the air as your bodies began to whine together to the beat.

both your hips matching each beat smoothly as y’all began to pull people’s attention from around the room.

“estaba loca por casarte, haćertelo rico yo! ojalá puedà quedarte” you and dina began to sing, your bodies beginning to gyrate swiftly towards each other; completely lost in the atmosphere, liquor, and music.

the upbeat rhythm of the reggaeton beat boomed only making your sexy rhythm on Dina faster.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

Ellie wasn’t much for the party scene, she liked the occasional harmless flirting and eye candy to be as a entertainment for her as she smoked her way through the party, only taking a couple shots with Jesse.

Jesse had a friend, Gustavo. he was going to be dj-ing at some house party tonight and when it came down to Jesse, no was not an option to Ellie.

anyways, thats how Ellie ended up in the humid party, standing where she was now; watching all surf-wave of crowded bodies getting down.

she stood there, joint in her hand as her cropped white muscle-tee hugged her chest and exposed her toned abdomen.

she had on jeans, bagging them so her nike pro boxer-lining to peek out.

there was lots of beautiful women at this party, but she was almost falling asleep as Jesse was already flirting with a second girl.

just as she brought the joint to her lips, there you were.

ellie could only spot your silhouette at first.

your shadow was revealed shortly, glowing under the bright dance-floor lighting.

it seemed like Ellie wasn’t the only one you were able to captivate, almost enchanting the whole room.

it was now, you and Dina who were killing it on that dance floor.

random strangers hyping the both of you as some even attempt to get closer to try to dance with the both of you.

it was everything about you that captured her completely. the way your hair moved along with your golden earrings shining with every movement of your body and your tawny skin glistening.

she observed the way you danced and to be frank the way your dress hugged those beautiful curves of yours.

Ellie was salivating at the mouth, you were like a flash-photo moment that would be forever engraved into her membrane.

Jesse had came back with two shots of tequila, she immediately grabbed her shot. not wasting time, ellie needed to get to that dance floor before the end of this fucking song.

“white dress and black dress. spotlight. white dress is mine.” ellie points out quickly, downing the shot and handing the joint to Jesse.

ellie practically flew down those stairs.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you continued to gyrate your hips sensually.

Dinas hand’s running up’n’down your body as you did the same, both feeling hot under the spell of the music.

you took a couple steps back as your perreo got more confident, slight cheers from women and men ogling the both of you as they try to get closer.

Esto e' una foto porque yo no 'toy pintá

Ya 'toy elevada, me siento gatúbela

Y ese huerfanito necesita una mamá

🫧

you accidentally felt your ass bump up against someone.

“im so sorry!” you yelled over the music, you felt relief once you seen it was a woman, frankly dreading it to be a male.

she was gorgeous in such a different way; she wasn’t a feminine woman and she looked better than any actual man youve ever seen or been with, especially dressed the way she was.

“go head’ mama” was all the fine woman said, signaling that she wanted you to dance; no. throw it on her.

she grabbed the hand that had been on her shoulder as a small friendly gesture to quickly hold it to spin you around.

you were picky if you danced with someone, but boy, you were about to give this girl a show.

🫧

Ay, qué rico!

Cuando me pone el panty de ladito

¡Ay, qué rico!

Ese besito dámelo abajito

each lyric of each beat of that verse was grind and a twerk from your ass on her crotch as her hips rocked into you; it was definitely the alcohol that made ellie this bold.

she followed your rhythm and one hand set on your waist softly as you balanced yourself with your hands on your knees.

she took the free hand that she used to run through her hair, contemplating how she can handle all that, to bring it down to hold your dress down from riding up.

Ay, bendito!

En cuatro yo te pongo rapidito

Mmm, bendito

No me coma' tan rico, papacito

🫧

‘thank god for Jesse and that tequila shot’

the little voice in ellies head thought before quickly vanishing, the only thing on ellie was how fucking horny you made her because of how unbelievably sexy you were.

the small gesture just made you feel secure, only making you pushed your ass into her completely at this point.

the slight tipped over stance you had was now turned into fully bent over as she was practically dry-fucking your shaking ass in-front of the crowd.

Ellie looked around the crowded room, men looked at with her with envy as some women looked at you with hatred which only fueled her ego completely.

she bit her lip as she felt the cockiest smirk smear across her face as she lifted her leg and began to grinding into your ass in complete dog-like motion.

the little bit of friction between the small of your panty brushing across the hard of her zipper which only made your stomach bubble wantingly.

the room might’ve been filled with people and blaring lights but Ellie swore you were the only person in this entire place.

everyone who surrounding the both of you completely fading into a black abyss. it was only the two of you.

the only thing in the moment right now that mattered was this sun-kissed beauty she was dancing with.

there was no way in hell this was the weed or the alcohol.

she wished she could stay here for the rest of her life, not even the fact that you were dancing on her; but the fact it was just you.

your grinds got slower and slower which seemed to bring ellie back down to earth.

the song was ending but this couldn’t.

you thought you would have to pull yourself off and watch as she walked away from you after getting what she wanted, what you thought she wanted.

the auburn hair woman offered you her hand to walk you away from the crowd after you bent yourself back up.

her demeanor felt as sharp as a knife yet her eyes gleamed so gently at you.

ellie’s heart was pounding, her heartbeat drowning out her own sound of the music.

“my-my name’s Ellie!” the woman leaned in slightly so you could hear her over her own heartbeat mixed with the booming music.

you could see her hazel eyes were hooded although they still managed to shine through, mostly cause of the mixture of weed and alcohol.

you had gone nervous under her gaze, the unfamiliar feeling making you a bit uncomfortable but yet she made you comfortable.

you let a nervous smile creep onto your face “nice to meet you Ellie!, my name is ___”

you hated how you had to shout over the music then getting pushed slightly getting pushed by different people as they surround another couple.

you whipped your head, stepping your feet closer to the circle to be nosy and see who it was.

‘shit! where’s Dina?’ you thought.

Ellie noticed how your attention got pulled away to the new crowd of people, sharing your focus. the dance light once again blares down onto the dancing couple.

“Dina!?”

“Oh my god! Jesse!”

the both of you looked at each other.

Ellie found this slightly funny as she couldn’t believe Jesse did the exact same thing.

you share the laugh she had slightly let out before hyping up your bestfriend as she really got into it.

“im guessing you two are bestfriends?” you lean into her ear to question.

Ellie felt your hot breath graze her ear which caused the invisible blimps of her skin to chill-up.

“yeah, i would ask you the same but i already know.” Ellie slys out, looking down at you with a growing want that glints through her pupils.

“excuse me?” you joked out, you were caught slightly off-gaurd.

“you smoke?!” Ellie practically had to shout over the cheering of Dina and Jesse’s very own yiking session.

you gave her a nod which ellie returned with a lick of her lips and signal to the door from her head.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

there was a lot of people outside that actually had the same idea as you two.

you looked around, stumbling slightly on your feet as you weren’t your most sober.

“could i help you? im guessing you’re a bit drunk” Ellie hands go out to catch you incase you were to loose your balance.

“aren’t you so sweet to the girl who just twerked on you. im s’sorry by the-” you slurr out the slightest bit.

ellie shook her head with a smirk of disbelief written all over her face, turning one arm to you slightly to intertwine with.

you gladly accepted her arm “what?” you question as she began to walk you always from the house party. although you were intoxicated you were never so smitten with someone like this.

“nothing to be sorry about here” ellie said, looking up at you as she pulled out a small black cylinder tube from her pocket.

the way her eyes looked at you as the streelights reflected them made your heart race like a pre-teen with their first crush.

you watched through your own droopy eyes her take the joint from the tube in between her lips “you gotta lighter?” she snaps you out of your daze, you had been staring longer than you thought.

“uh-yes! i actually have a whole other blunt in here?” you reply, questioning yourself at the end as you dig in your purse.

it ignited a laugh from Ellie which for some reason echoed through your ears straight to your heart “here ya’go” you hand her your lighter.

she knew you were different, there was no other woman like you. Ellie couldn’t compare even if she tried.

this drove her even more crazy, remembering how women wished they were you in a matter of seconds.

she frankly found it attractive how you handed her a gold-plated lighter, it was fancy too; being one you had to refill.

you could’ve handed her a regular BIC lighter but you didn’t just cause you didn’t have one. you weren’t simple, she knew that off the bat and it yearned for ellie to know more.

“i really like your lighter….’our lady’ ” Ellie compliments, reading the engraved lettering.

she ran her thumb ran over the small painted Virgencita.

she felt her heart swoon even more. she could feel her mind race along with her heart; dying with anticipation.

the anticipation to completely dive herself into your life, create her own little space right next to you, your life. she already wanted to take you home with her and have breakfast in bed.

she wanted to get with you right now and just call you yours.

your energy invisibly mixing with hers creating an unconscious spiritual tug on each other’s hearts.

“thank you—aye!, gotta be protected even as you smoke.” you pointed at her, looking at her playfully serious.

“is that so? i think you’re gonna need to tell me more.” ellie puffed out with a smirk, handing you the joint.

she could feel you grow nervous under your hazy-self which only made her persuasion flourish.

you felt the piney-terpenes fog your brain quicker and create an inner warmth for the skeleton of your body as you inhale the rough smoke with ease.

you grew hot under her gaze not knowing if it was your body flushing or the mix of drugs for the the night.

“so tell me, did you plot on me?” you bluntly ask, passing the joint.

the weed diminishing whatever of was left of your cautious- veil; feeling yourself fall vulnerable with the stranger.

“i wouldn’t necessarily say plot. i had seen a beautiful woman and i just needed to dance with her.”

ellie’s voice echoed through your ears causing goosebumps on your skin. you were acting like you had never been flirted with before and it was embarrassing.

you straighten yourself up, digging in your purse to get your phone. you weren’t trying to disregard her compliment but you also came to your senses.

but to ellie, it sure felt like you did.

you unlocked your phone.

12:05 AM

it was just past midnight and as nice as this was….

you shook your head trying to recollect in your mind what to say “uhm-im sorry—you’re really nice—err, we should check on our friends.” you stammered across your words, biting your lip as you felt bad.

Ellie agreed as her mind began to race.

are you not gay?

had she been delusional?

did she read this all the wrong way?

she felt like an idiot as she handed you the joint. she felt your hand shiver as your fingertip grazed her knuckles.

you both began to walk off into the party, leaving the both tension-filled.

the both of you pushed through, ellie staying hot on your heels to not loose you within the surf of people.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

it didn’t take you long to find your brunette bestfriend with her large fur coat back on as she seemed enthralled with Jesse at the bar, sat on the stool with her on his lap.

you both approached them and they soon look your direction with big drunk smiles “Ellie! ma’girl of the night!” Jesse drunkily exclaims, taking his hand out in dap-up motion.

ellie didn’t seem so confident and assured this time as she approached him with a slight smile and seemed to put any emphasis into their gesture; you picked up on this.

now it was you that bombarded yourself with questions.

have you made a complete total fool of yourself?

did she think i didn’t like it?

how could you pratically dry fuck the girl and then shut her down like that?

does she think i shut her down?

you didn’t know what to think or what you were even thinking, i mean…did you like her? it was obvious she wasn’t straight and well you….honestly was never quite sure.

you knew you felt like shit now, she had been giving you all her energy.

you were too busy in your head to even listen.

“Ya heard that, girl? that ass got her in-love” Dina teased out, looking in-between you and ellie as her eyebrows wiggle.

you heard ellie scoff as she scratched the back of her neck, she continued to look at her feet.

you grabbed your coat which you knew Dina must have brought back, sliding in through both of your arms before your heels clicked closer to Ellie’s side.

“is that so? i think you’re gonna need to tell me more.”

you felt yourself bubble up confidently, it was your turn to smirk as you spoke.

ellie immediately whipped her head up as you stole her line from earlier.

it was visible Ellie flushed as crimson creeped onto her cheeks “what would you like to drink? it’s only fair since you took me for a sesh.” you offer, your arm interlinking with her mimicking the exact same actions except you were the instigator this time.

now ellie felt like a deer in headlights, caught off guard slightly. she didn’t except you to reciprocate the same confidence.

you both sat on the chairs next to Jesse and Dina.

“what could i get you two?” the bartender ask “i’ll be having a Michelada and hottie right here will have…" you say, making eye contact once you called her a ‘hottie’.

you could see ellie’s tongue poke through her cheek, trying to bite back amusement.

ellie swore you were going to make her heart explode with how fast it had been beating for the past hour.

“water with lime, thank you.” ellie replies, not even looking at the bartender when she said thank you. only you in her peripheral.

you were in utter perfect view for her, she could take in every feature and detail of your body.

the black wing-liner illuminating the natural shine of your gaze as your lips were complimented by a faded brown outline that blended in perfectly each time you smiled.

“so, is it my ass or me you fell in love with?”

“in love a strong word, mama” she quirked back.

that little nickname shot right through your ears straight to your stomach, fluttering it at the recollection.

you giggled and god, ellie didn’t think someone’s laugh could be so infectious.

“they were right though” ellie bit her lip slightly, not really wanting to look up at you as she referes to what Jesse and Dina said earlier.

she didn’t realize you were too in your head to pay attention.

“and what’s that exactly?”

“you really into repeating things, huh?” Ellie jokes out which you playfully roll your eyes too.

“wouldn’t you like to know…” your tone was suggestive as you leaned into her.

you weren’t quite sure what you were doing but it almost all felt natural now like you were meant to be; here, doing this, with her.

ellie thought she was delusional, hearing things and seeing things.

“i don’t dance—not like that, but you—whew…i wasn’t lying outside. im lucky it got to be you” ellie continues to insuinate teasingly, completely dazed under the bright light orange lighting illuminating from the bar-lights.

your makeup was almost cat-like making your eyes almost seem black by the dark eyeliner that tranced along your eyes.

you even had tattoos that speckled across your arms, she knew you had more and oh to explore those….

ellie was able to finally take in your jewelry, you had your very own name-plated gold necklace that dazzled amongst your natural russet-glow.

you were fiddling with one of your gold hoops which she observed as she read CHULA going through the earring.

ellie was shamelessly eye-fucking you, she knew it wasn’t appropriate.

it had only hit midnight and this green-eyed beauty was ready to get her car keys and tuck you into her bed, she could care less about anything let alone anyone as she lost herself in you.

she didn’t even realized but ellie had been unconsciously leaning into you, feeling the warmth of your aroma.

just like that, the drinks were being slid infront of you.

you would say you sipped your michi once you got it, but liquid courage amirite?

“how many women have you used that on, hm?” you play it off, feeling yourself become overwhelmed by the hedonistic feelings she urged from your heart.

it was unfamiliar to you, she was a woman and she’s the first to challenge you.

ellie’s expression furrowed as she raises the glass to her face.

your bold and catty personality intimidated men. you couldn’t remember the last time you grew nervous under male attention.

yet here you were, using your all to keep a cool composure with this woman.

she intimidated you. you didn’t like it, yet it was something you would now yearn for like a new drug.

“my first and i hope my last.”

ellie’s voice was above a meer whisper but you heard her loud and clear as your faces were just inches away from each other.

your tense auras begged to kiss, it seemed destined, almost too natural.

your eyes jumped in between her dulcet green eyes and her plumped lips.

it took everything in ellie not crash her lips onto yours, she didn’t want to scare you off.

it was almost like she knew something was up.

yet, you still inched closer.

you let the energies talk to each other almost, your central-egos almost fighting to accept but it was too insatiable.

your lips connect ever so softly. they fell so perfectly into each other, connecting like two magnets.

ellie could sense your hesitation which confused her but she tried her best to ease you by her kisses being peck-like.

ellie’s lips were so soft, it felt like you were kissing a cloud almost.

it felt like your lips had already been connected for centuries, familarized with the shape and movement.

the perfect sync was created between your kiss, you felt yourself fall into her as all your weary thoughts dwindle away.

you had suddenly forgetten why you were so hesitant.

you forgot why you were embarrassed earlier.

you forgot about the stressful morning you had with handling break-up messages.

hell, you had forgotten about him.

she completely belittled the memory of ever getting cheated on, as if it never happened.

by now, your faces were flushed together lips moving in quick hot-sync; far gone from the small little pecks now.

ellie could taste your lip-gloss.

was that watermelon flavor? oh my god…

you could feel ellie’s lip slightly quiver as she tried to get more access to your mouth, wanting to explore it more with tongue.

you give in easily as her steady warm-breathing through her nostrils were enough to make your body fuzzed up.

you wished to her closer to you, craving more of the bliss she brought you.

it was almost like ellie could sense you, she could feel and see each and every thought you had.

if that was the case, you would’ve scared the poor girl off by now.

she leaned closer into the kiss, her tongue lightly swiping at the bottom of your lip to pick up more of your flavored-gloss.

ellie’s hand rested on your lower knee, her thumb caressing figures onto your skin.

your breathing was staggered as you struggled to continue to kiss her, making yourself almost forceful as you try to continue.

it was almost too easy.

she made you too easy.

something a man could never conquer out of you.

you found yourself having to end up paying at the end of the night due to you leaving your brainless date there.

yet, everything that she oozed of attracted you like a fly to a lightbulb.

then everything stopped, almost like a vinyl abruptly screeching-stop on a record player.

she had pulled away from you, she looked a bit concerned “you okay?” ellie tried looking in your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

you were sure a slight flushed out hue was evident on your face as a mix of embarrassment and heat from the kiss.

jesus, can you get anymore embarrassing

you mentally scolded—you wish you could bitch-slap yourself right now.

you turned your stool back to your drink on the table, not looking at ellie but your glass.

a pool of water ringed around under the glass after you both left your drinks to let the ice-cubes melt in.

you fiddled with your straw as you drank from your glass “ya’ never make a woman breatheless before?” you tried to play coy.

you squinted at her playfully as you sipped “you could have anyone here and you know if.” she bit her lip, sneering out.

you were taken aback at by her gruffness, you didn’t deny the fact as you opened your mouth to respond—

“EVERYONE GO THE FUCK HOME! THE POLICE IS ON THERE WAY! GO THE FUCK HOME, THE CLUB, I DONT CARE! JUST GET THE FUCK OUT MY HOUSE! THANK YOU EVERYBODY HAVE A BLESSED NIGHT!” (random party host dude)

crowds began to scatter as the music abruptly stops, shrieks from some people rang through the building. it was almost a natural instinct grabbing ellie’s hand.

“we took an uber here!” you heard Dina explain as you ran up to her.

“Ellie drove, we’ll drop you off! we need to leave now!” Jesse shouts, pointing to the balcony that was slid wide open by others that ran out.

you stayed close to Dina as she held onto Jesse and you held onto ellie.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

the way the four of you ran together off into ellie’s car.

Ellie driving away while your in the passenger as Dina and Jesse make-out in the back.

you watching the police cars speed past you, unknowing that you were ever at that party.

Ellie’s eyes bounced in between her view and her car mirror; you had folded down to reapply your lip combo not too long ago.

she would steal glances at you, meeting your eyes occasionally.

the way your eyes sparkled as you grew shy that she caught you staring at her drive.

it was all canon, planned by divine timing.

so you could imagine how disheartening it was when ellie arrived to not yours, but Dina’s address.

Jesse and Dina stepped out first, it was almost like they wanted to give you a moment alone.

there was a moment of silence between the two of you as your eyes burned into each other.

you both wanted to soak in this cloud y’all created.

“give me your phone.” you beamed out, glow illuminating through her windscreen from Dina’s apartment lights.

you took one last good look at Ellie.

you took in the way her freckles sprinkled across her face, her pink lips pursed, and her skin glistened through by the light.

ellie gave you a loopy grin which made you giggle.

you began to tap away on her phone, creating your contact.

gatúbela 💋

111-222-33444

you opened her camera, turning the flash on. you straighten your posture before doing a quick wink as the picture snapped.

Ellie’s eyes just gawked into you, a lip tugged between her teeth.

you knew exactly who you were and Ellie couldnt wait to fucking find out.

“you give your number out to just anyone?” ellie teases, playing questionaire like you; earlier in party.

“you’re the first i give my real one too!” you giggled out which caused ellie to laugh along with you.

“im actually very flattered, mama” the nickname seemed too natural now, it was officially reserved for you and ellie didn’t even know.

now it was you biting your lip, stopping from smiling like an idiot at the epithet she referred to you as before.

she smirked as she looked down at the contact, the name of the song that was playing when you both were dancing.

you unlooped your mini-purse from around your arm, digging in it.

“here, so you don’t forget about me”

you put your chocolate lipliner in her cupholder.

just like that, you were exiting her car as Jesse took the passenger seat you were once sat in.

you walked off into the midnight, entering through dark apartment building.

ellie spent the rest of her night replaying every moment of you like her favorite movie.

ellie couldn’t forget you, not after tonight.

she is going to see you again, she would make sure of it.

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#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams the last of us #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #the last of us fandom #the last of us fanfiction #ellie williams series #GATÚ🌺

[xomakara]

Physical Therapy

SUMMARY |  Haechan sprained his ankle and is staying at the hospital. Being very horny and needy, he asks his pretty nurse for special treatment… PAIRINGS | Haechan/Fem!Reader GENRE |  smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, public sex, nurse/patient RATING |  Mature LENGTH |  2,366 words AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Fuck, why do I have so many one-shots saved in my computer? Anywho, I hope you enjoy :)

Part 2 here

“Haechan, you are an idiot.”

“…Shut up.”

“I can’t believe you sprained it.”

“…I said shut up.”

“You are such an attention whore. Now you have to stay in the hospital. How does it feel?”

“Guys! Will you shut up! Geez, it’s not my fault!” Haechan yelled at his friends. Leave it to Haechan to sprain his ankle before tonight’s party.

“Actually it is. You’re the one who wanted to impress that pretty girl.” Renjun said, raising both his brows at him. All because he wanted to show off his dance moves. Which really didn't make sense, since Haechan was a great dancer.

"I thought you were trying to impress that girl?" Chenle asked Renjun as he passed some soup to Haechan. “Weren’t you trying to serenade her in Chinese?”

"What are you talking about?" Renjun rolled his eyes, the others laughing. “I did no such thing.”

"How in the world could you sprain your ankle?!" Mark questioned, fussing over the younger man. "Dude."

"Should I keep you company?" Jisung asked.

“Good news is that my cousin is coming over to visit later! I'll bring you some of her homemade food later, since I know you all love her cooking. Have fun at the hospital.” Jaemin said happily, waving at Haechan before walking with the rest of his friends out of the hospital room.

Haechan gave them a surprise look. “Wait, you guys are going to leave me?!”

“….yes?” Jeno said, not sure if that question was a trick or not.

"We'll visit you tommorow, Haechan." Renjun nodded, reassuring him.

Haechan grumbled and glared at them. He crossed his arms. “Fine, leave me. Some friends you guys are. Can't believe you would leave.”

"Ahw, you'll be fine Haechan." Mark chuckled, patting him on the head. “Some of the nurses here are really pretty, you know?”

“We’ll tell them to take good care of you!” Jeno called out.

"Yeah, you'll be fine!" Jisung exclaimed.

"Recover fast! Haechannie fighting!" Jaemin pumped his fist in a victory pose.

Chenle waved and gave him a small smile. “Bye Haechan! Have fun at the hospital!”

"Guyssss!" Haechan whined, hoping that one of his friends would at least stay with him.

Haechan sighed once his friends left. Now who was going to give him the attention he needed? It wasn’t his fault that he wanted to show off his nice, smooth moves to that pretty girl. He wanted to get a chance to maybe…score something tonight.

Damn it.

There goes his chance of fucking a pretty girl.

He started to watch some TV. The hospital wasn’t that bad since he had a room to himself. The door opened again, and a very pretty woman entered his room. She was wearing a nurse outfit, showing off her generous cleavage. 

She gave him a cute smile.

“Hi there, I'm Na Y/N. I’ll be your nurse for tonight. If you need anything, just press the button.” You said, pointing at the button that was on the dresser. 

Haechan looked at you up and down before giving you a smirk. 

Oh yeah, he definitely loved the hospital now.

“Y/N, huh? Wait… Are you Na Jaemin’s cousin?” He asked, his eyes wide. “You’re the cousin that cooks all those delicious food for Jaemin, huh?”

“Oh, you know Jaemin?” You asked him.

“Yeah, we’re friends.” Haechan nodded. “I’m Haechan. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh! The one with the sweet yet unique voice whenever he sings? It’s nice to finally put a face to a name.” You smiled at him. “Was Jaemin here to see you earlier? I just started my shift but a few of the other nurses said they saw a group of very good looking men leave your room.”

“Yep, they left not too long ago.” Haechan replied. “I didn’t know you were a nurse.”

“I normally keep my job a secret.” You chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “They don’t believe I’m a nurse because of my looks.”

Which was often true. People always thought you’de be too dumb to be a nurse. That your face and body could pass more for a model.

You didn’t know how or why, but after fighting with the other nurses, you won. The prize was to take care of the handsome young man in Room 127.

“Really now? That must be tough.” Haechan raised his eyebrow. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be in good hands with you.”

“I’ll get you all taken care of.” You smiled as you turned around, your back facing him. “If you need anything Haechan-ssi, just let me know.”

Haechan watched your ass until it disappeared out the door. Yeah, he was going to have fun.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” Minhee, your fellow nurse, friend and roommate asked, grabbing an apple from her plate before taking a big bite of it. It was lunchtime, and you were sitting on the table, your face lying on top of it.

“It’s Haechan! He’s such an... ugh! He won’t stop calling me. He’s getting on my nerves.” You were tired and hungry. 

It has been four hours since Haechan came, and you were tired as hell because of him. He made ridiculous requests. 'Oh nurse, can you help me change the channel? Oh nurse, where is the bathroom? Blah blah blah.' 

You were sick of it.

Minhee gave you a sympathetic look. 

Poor you. 

But she didn’t want to take care of Haechan. Plus you did win that bet. You said were going to cockblock her if she ever brought a man home. 

Hell no. 

Minhee was going to get some dick tonight after her shift. “Why don’t you text Jaemin and ask him what will keep Haechan quiet. He should know since they’re friends.”

You groaned, bringing your phone out of your pocket. “I know but still, he needs to stop pressing that damn button.”

“Maybe he wants and loves your attention. He must really like you.” Minhee said, giving you a teasing smile. "You are pretty."

You stuck your tongue out. “Being pretty doesn’t pay the bills.”

“Why don’t you just fuck him or something?” Minhee suggested.

You groaned again, showing her the text you got from your cousin.

Jaemin: Why don’t you fuck him? He’s been dying to get laid lately.

Minhee laughed. “See? No wonder your cousin and I get along so well. Great minds think alike.”

“Ugh…” You let out, your phone vibrated signaling that Haechan was calling you.

“Oh Y/N,” Haechan sang before pressing the button for the 100th time. “I need your assistance again.”

You groaned and entered his room again, not before shutting the door. You didn’t want Seulyong, the head nurse, to hear you screaming at a patient, especially if it’s Haechan. “What now?”

He gave an amused look. “Now what kind of attitude is that? Aren’t nurses supposed to be friendly with their patients?”

“Not if they're being an ass about it.” You muttered under your breath. “Now what do you want Haechan?”

Haechan moved his shoulders. “My shoulders are stiff. Can you massage them for me?”

If you could, you would curse and walk away from him. But since Haechan knew your cousin, you didn’t want Jaemin to complain that you didn’t take care of his friend. You went over to his bed. “Scoot back.”

He did what he was told, smirking at you as you sat on the bed. After a few minutes, Haechan moaned in satisfaction. You were really good with your hands. He felt his muscles being relaxed as you continued to massage his shoulders.

“Better?” You wanted to get over this. As soon as he nodded, you immediately got off the bed.

Before you could leave the room, he grabbed your wrist. “Yes, better. Can you do me another favor?”

You didn’t even reply. You waited for his request while yelling profanities inside your head. 

Damn him.

“I thought I felt a lump on my stomach. I don’t know what that means, but can you check for me?” He sweetly asked. 

Curse him for being so damn hot. 

When the hell did Jaemin hang out with other good looking guys?

You could perfectly hear the other nurses dying and telling you to do it. You waited until Haechan laid down on the bed, lifting up his hospital gown, revealing his perfect, solid abs and boxers to you.

Slowly, you touched his abs as Haechan shivered from your touch. You had to admit, his abs felt so fucking good with your touch. But you didn’t feel a lump at all. “I don’t feel a lump.”

Haechan opened his eyes. He was enjoying this. “Go higher, it’s somewhere around there.”

You went higher, revealing his solid chest. “Nope, don’t feel it.”

“Huh, I must have been imagining things.” He said, giving you an innocent look. 

You glared at him. 

Ugh, sneaky bastard.

“I'll go now.” All you wanted to do was go home and sleep this off. This has been such a tiring experience for you. Before you could leave again, he grabbed your wrist again.

“Wait, stay.”

Fuck, no you weren't going to stay. 

Sure, he was hot but you were so tired.

“Why? My shift is over. I gave you all the attention you need. It’s time for me to go home.”

Haechan frowned a little. The fun hasn’t even started yet. “You can’t leave yet. I need more attention, especially from a sexy, little nurse.”

Before you could protest, Haechan pulled your body on his bed. You couldn’t even react because he captured your lips with his, dominating it. 

It took you a few seconds to realize that you were actually kissing a patient. And your cousin’s friend. 

Fuck it. 

You knew what to do with this situation, like Minhee and Jaemin told you to. You kissed him back, not giving a rat’s ass that you were about to fuck a patient.

Haechan smirked. 

“I see you want my attention.” He said before entering his tongue inside of your mouth.

You just moaned for the cocky bastard. It was better to enjoy the moment than argue with him. Haechan’s lips were incredibly soft, almost pillowy. He deepened the kiss, the hand at the back of your neck bringing you closer. He felt your hand curve around his neck. He moved closer, lured by your response and a small, almost helpless sound you made as you opened your lips. 

Haechan was rubbing all over your body, and playing with your short skirt.

“You are such a bad nurse.” He growled before his right hand went inside your skirt, lightly massaging your clit with his thumb that was being protected by your very thin underwear. “Going around fucking all your patients, huh?”

“N-no…”

You arched your back and wrapped your arms around his neck. Dear god. Haechan looked at your exposed neck. Perfect. Leaning you closer, he began attacking your small neck, biting and sucking as hard as he could, making you gasp and clutched his neck even more.

“Haechan,” you moaned in front of his ear, turning him on even more. You could feel his hard member that was covered by his gown and boxers. You began grinding his body with yours, making him moan and wince.

Right now, he wanted to pounce and fuck your brains out right then and there. Instead, he pushed your panties to the side, and added not one, but two fingers inside your now wet pussy, his thumb continuing to massage your clit. “Does that feel good?”

“Oh god, yes…”

He thrusted hard and fast, hitting your g-spot again and again, making you melt and feel good. He moved his fingers to the side, up and down, forcing you to shudder. Haechan bit your bottom lip as he continued to stroke you with his pleasurable fingers.

After a few more strokes, Haechan finally took his fingers out, licking them in front of you. “You are so ready right now, noona.”

"What?" You pouted, slapping his chest in embarrassment. "Who's your noona?!"

Since you were straddling him, Haechan had expertly taken off your skirt and panties. 

How the hell did that happen?

“You are. Noona, can you help a patient out? I’m a very horny person.”

You couldn’t reply because he already thrust up inside of you, slowly. You knew he was teasing you, waiting for your reply.

“Yes, I'll help you out, Haechan-ah!” Haechan slowly hit your g-spot.

“I’m sorry. I can’t hear you.” He said, thrusting a little bit faster. “Damn, your pussy is sucking my cock.” 

He went inside of you again, making you arch, you moaning in pleasure.

“Yes! I'll help you!” You yelled. 

You prayed the other nurses didn’t hear the filth that was going on.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Haechan replied by thrusting inside of you faster now. Each thrust was filling you up with pleasure. Instead of laying down, he sat up in bed, making him go deeper inside your wet pussy. He continued to pound inside of you, making you whimper every time he hit the right spot.

You both came not once, nor twice, but three times. On the fourth fuck, Haechan could feel your walls clenching again.

“Haechan!” You screamed, giving him the satisfaction that he needed as you came for the fourth time. Haechan came as well, arms tightening around you as you continued to spasm in pleasure.

“Another round?” He asked, catching his breath as he gave you a cocky grin.

You lightly pushed off of him and got up. You wanted to, but there was no way you were going to do this for the fifth time. He was a very needy and horny guy. “No, now go to bed or something.”

You put your panties back on. You were about to put on your white skirt until Haechan grabbed it. He leaned towards you. “Tomorrow I need to be satisfied. Will you be here tomorrow to help me, noona?”

You bit your lip, blushing from his comment. 

Why did he have to fuck so damn good?! “Of course, I’ll be here Haechan.”

Satisfied, Haechan gave you back your skirt. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow. After all, you were his nurse.

#nct #nct stories #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct dream #nct haechan #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #haechan #haechan smut #haechan x reader

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 5)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

A first date???

Warnings: Sexual innuendos and working through internalized homophobia

Author’s Note: No beta but this chapter took me wayyyy too long. This week was crazy with getting a new apartment states away and defending my thesis 😵‍💫

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4

Jacob nervously slipped into the kitchen as Melissa waited expectantly for a ziti you requested to finish baking. He attempted to keep space between himself and the Italian - for his own safety of course. The space between the two roommates had grown after he confronted Melissa a few nights ago about seeing her kiss you. Tonight he was looking to mend the bond between them. 

He leaned on the kitchen island, hands clasped and eyes studying the countertop, “I wanted to, uh... apologize for what happened a few nights ago. I shouldn’t have been so abrasive.”

The redhead only offered him a momentary glance which was harsh and skeptical. It was clear she wasn’t interested in having any conversation about the events Jacob witnessed. While Melissa continued giving Jacob the cold shoulder, he wanted to make it clear he was there to support her, “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.” “There isn’t anything to talk about.” Melissa quickly responded in a monotone with her back to Jacob so she could go about her business of pulling the ziti from the oven. She placed the baking dish on the top of the stove, and took a deep breath as she pulled the oven mitts from her hands and tossed them onto the counter. Spinning to face her roommate, she cocked her head and forced herself to make peace with the young man, “Thank you, Jacob.”

“I found a new puzzle for tonight... if you would like.” The young man gestured towards the dining room where he left the puzzle, earning a smile from the redhead.

With a flick of her hand, Melissa turned off the oven and folded her arms over her chest, “I would like.”

--

When Melissa picked up your phone call and wedged her phone between her ear and shoulder, she had no idea you were sitting outside her house. Before she could get a word in edgewise, you spoke - trying your best to sound smooth and collected so she couldn’t tell you were fearful of her rejection, “Let’s go, Schemmenti.”

“What?” She leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes to hide her enthusiasm from Jacob who sat across the table with his head cocked, staring at her in curiosity. They were about half way through their 3D puzzle of the statue of liberty when you interrupted. 

After opening your car door, you step out and lean against the car door frame, smirking as you catch a glimpse of her red hair through the front window. You doubled down on your mission of taking Melissa out, giving her an order rather than asking, “Come on out here. I’m taking you on a date.” 

“What makes you think I’d go on a date with the likes of you?” Melissa tittered as she tried to hide how she enjoyed flirting with you from her companion. 

You reply sarcastically, feeling a sense of excitement wash over you when you make her laugh, “My good looks and sense of humor. Or perhaps my love of long walks on the beach.”

Melissa finally lifted herself from her seat so she could make her way to the front window where she pulled aside the sheer blinds to catch a glimpse of you. Your cheeky smile melted Melissa’s icy exterior as did the way you leaned your cheek on your forearm as you gazed at her. She had one hand on her hip as she stared you down, “Where are ya’ takin’ me?” 

“I’m still trying to decide between the Olive Garden or some chain sports bar where we can watch the Cowboys play.” You joke, grinning wildly as you watch her lip curl.

She turned her back to you, looking around the room for her purse and shoes, “Are you tryin’ to get me to say no?”

“Just testing to see how much you like me.” You quip as you watch her curiously. More than anything you hope your joking wouldn’t turn her off from the date you had planned. 

“What’s the dress code?” The redhead asked, glancing down at her comfortable outfit of old jeans and an Eagles shirt. She had been ready to slip on her shoes so she could meet you, but she began to second guess herself. 

“Something easy to take off.” Your quick wit made the redhead stifle a laugh as she clumsily began gathering all of her belongings. Her pacing made her seem a little too eager to Jacob, causing him to arch his brow in amusement. You could see her grabbing her leather jacket and purse which caused you to remember the ziti you asked her to make just for this occasion, “Oh, and did you make that ziti?”

“Well, yeah.” She scoffed, almost offended you would question her willingness to cook for you. 

“Bring that too.” 

— Melissa folded her arms over her chest and watched out the window as she skeptically wondered where you could be taking her so late in the evening. When you turned into the stadium parking lot of the Lincoln Financial Field, she glanced over at you with a look of pure disbelief. She didn’t believe you could get her into the Eagles home stadium for a single moment, “And how do you think you are gettin’ in here?”

“I know a guy.” You shrug as your eyes sweep the parking lot for the entry point your cousin told you to find. 

Melissa was all heart eyes in the passenger seat, watching you with complete amazement. Her chest swelled with pride when you ended up handing over her ziti to your cousin whilst telling them she is the best cook in her family. And the cherry on top was how you gave a subtle threat to your cousin to make sure they would return Melissa’s baking dish to you. In a period of five minutes, you tapped into three of her love languages: having connections, bribery through food, and not-so-subtle threats. 

—

Melissa was like a kid in a candy store as you gave her free reign of exploring the sports complex. As a night security guard, your cousin had agreed to give you access to everything as long as you set him up on a date with some girl you knew from high school and Melissa’s cooking was just the icing on the cake. 

The redhead was in her happy place when she settled on the Eagles sideline bench and grinned up at you, “You didn’t have to go to such great lengths to get me to sleep with ya’.” 

“Who said I was trying to sleep with you?” You cock your head as you stare down at Melissa, your heart jumping into your throat as you consider sharing your true intentions for her. While every fiber of your being was screaming for you to stay quiet, you remembered you were conducting your relationship with Melissa on your own terms rather than giving her all of the power. 

You popped yourself down on the bench next to Melissa, stretching your legs out in front of you as you stated your intentions with confidence, “I’m gonna get you to fall head over heels for me.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mel perked up in faux excitement as she loved to challenge anyone when they were filled with a noticeably high level of confidence. Her heart stalled in her chest at the notion of you trying to get her to fall for you - in a way it felt like too much too soon and a long time coming all at once.

You nod, staring out across the field with your chin held high, “Indeed it is.”

Melissa allowed a few moments to pass between you before she spoke again. While the prospect of a new relationship was frightening for her, she was determined to give a romance with you a fighting chance. She leaned into you when she spoke, giving your arm a loving pinch, “This is a good start, but if your guy can get us into the locker rooms, things will go a lot quicker.” 

—

You shifted the car into park outside Melissa’s house and a silence fell between you. The date had gone well, but now there seemed to be a new energy between you that had yet to be felt by either of you before. It was almost as if there was a palpable mutual yearning that expanded far beyond sexual desire. 

This feeling terrified Melissa.

“Everything is going to change.” When she spoke, you felt the need to do a double take to see if Melissa had been replaced with a 16 year old version of herself. Her tone was the same as when she told her father she wanted to be a teacher rather than the next Effa Manley - fearful of disappointing loved ones.

You shifted in your seat to more readily face the redhead. Cocking your head, you tried to give her an encouraging response, “Why does everything have to change?” 

“Didn’t everything change for you?” She asked as she chewed her lip, one hand lifting to her miraculous medal to rub the image of the Virgin Mary with the pad of her thumb. 

While it wasn’t easy coming out when you were teenagers, you remembered the support you received from your family and Melissa. At the time it was all you felt you needed, but of course, after telling Melissa about your attraction to the fairer sex, you did gain a sexual partner - the thought of which made you grin, “Mostly life was better. It helped having good friends.”

Melissa hummed to acknowledge your response before falling deep into thought. She wouldn’t even know where to start. Jacob would be easy, but Barbra? She felt sick at the thought of even discussing the matter with her. 

You broke up her swirls of anxiety with your own question, “Why did you say yes to this date?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Melissa retorted as she was briefly filled with relief of a lightened mood before realizing you were completely serious. Her face fell once more as you left her in a heavy silence to respond to your question. Her reasoning stemmed from your spat that occurred months ago, “When you told me you remembered that night before the wedding… I forgot how you asked me to give you a chance and I never did.”

“I said a lot more than that.”

“So did I.”

When you opened your door to a red eyed Melissa, you were literally taken aback by the redhead pushing her way into your arms. It was the night before she was set to marry Joe - some loser firefighter she had met while tailgating at a Eagles game. You hated him since Mel told you he wanted to take her to a strip club on the first date. 

While you would never tell her ‘I told you so’, you knew he wasn’t the right person for her. You kept your mouth shut, hugging her to your chest and guiding her further into your little apartment so you could close the door. 

She told you through teary eyes and angry hiccups that the rehearsal dinner had gone terribly and that Joe was a complete pig. You didn’t offer an opinion, opting to let the redhead rage as you settled on the couch together. She would wave her hands over her head and curse in Italian while you nodded along, only deciding to pull her to your chest once more when hot, angry tears began rolling down her cheeks. 

Rubbing Melissa’s back was an easy way to settle her anger, but her tears continued to fall regardless of how many times she wiped them away with her sleeves. You held her face to your chest and spoke softly, hoping she wouldn’t turn her anger onto you, “Maybe you shouldn’t be marrying him if all of this is happening and you aren’t even married yet.”

“My parents have already paid for the wedding. I can’t back out now.” Melissa nuzzled her cheek against your chest. She was in absolute despair yet she wasn’t willing to actively do anything to solve her issue. 

“But if you do, then… maybe we could be together.” It was unavoidable for you to sound like you were begging. You wanted this so badly. You wanted her so badly. In the brief moment where she didn’t respond, you couldn’t stop yourself from trying a little harder, “Come on. Give us a chance, pretty girl.”

Melissa only peered up at you, and her furrowed brows and sad eyes broke your heart. “I want to… I just-”

You held a hand to her cheek, brushing her hair from her face. You were desperate for Melissa to come to her senses. Couldn’t she see that you were meant to be together? Your voice was barely above a whisper as you moved to press your lips to her forehead, “I love you, Melissa. Please.”

The redhead eyes lit up at your words - like you had ignited something within her. Without a moment’s hesitation, Melissa shifted to sneak closer so she could press her lips to yours. She kissed you over and over - each kiss was filled with so much desperation it left both of you breathless. 

She pulled away only for a moment, her forehead resting against yours, “I love you.”

From there you fed off one another’s passion and energy like frenzied sharks. You ended up making love on your living room floor, clinging to one another as if you would be separated forever if any distance formed between you. Only if you would have known that distance was fated to form regardless.

Melissa’s face was unreadable. You couldn’t tell if she was reliving that night with regret or fondness - perhaps it was a combination of both. You watched thoughts run through her mind and her green hues were pleading when she spoke, “Have your feelings changed?”

“Never.”

Melissa both feared and adored your response.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes longer, spiraling at the omissions of love and not wanting your time together to end so soon. It was finally Melissa who made the move to leave, followed by your immediate reaction to open your door as well. You felt the thrum of excitement as you circled the car and walked the redhead to her door. 

She stopped when she had a hand on the door handle and glanced back at you, noticing you were at the bottom step with no intention to go any further. Her brows furrowed in confusion, “Aren’t you coming inside?”

“No. I’m just walking you to your door.” You shrug, craning your neck back to watch her with a cocky smile. 

“Chivalrous.” Melissa’s dry humor emerged as she abandoned the door handle to stand a step above you - her hands sliding up to your shoulders while she stared down at you. After years of being entwined with one another, you wouldn’t have thought her next words would make you so nervous, “Do I get a kiss at least?”

Wrapping your arm around her waist, you pull her into you, relishing in the feeling of her body weight pressing against you. The feeling of her green eyes staring intently down at you was overwhelming, especially as her focus on you was unwavering. Glancing back and forth, you whispered with a shyness that made you want to swallow your words, “Aren’t you worried about the neighbors getting the wrong idea?”

“Hadn’t crossed my mind.” She whispered in return - a white lie meant to soothe any concerns you may have about her intentions. Melissa had no interest in her neighbors knowing more than they needed to about her personal life, but she chose to wrap her arms around your neck and press her lips to yours regardless. 

You could have sworn you felt Melissa Schemmenti moan as she leaned into you more to deepen your kiss. This wasn’t any moan, however. This high pitch, quiet moan was a ‘please dear god keep kissing me’ moan. It made your heart race and your stomach twist into knots - so much so that you pulled away.

“Goodnight, pretty girl.” You lingered close as you whispered your farewell, ghosting her lips with your own before you gingerly took a step back.

Melissa swayed where she stood, her flushed cheeks hidden by the dim lighting of the streetlights. She folded her arms over her chest, shrugging as she hopelessly attempted to find a way to bid you goodbye that wouldn’t rob her of her ‘tough guy’ style. The redhead suppressed a smile and watched you through heavy lidded eyes - she was smitten and hated every bit of it. “Yeah yeah yeah. Get off my lawn before I have to turn a hose on ya’.”

—

Melissa settled onto the couch next to Jacob and was stewing with mixed emotions she didn’t know how to process. For years she hadn’t given you the chance of letting you in emotionally, and the very second she let her walls down, she was tripping over herself to get your attention. She found you to be a perfect balance of everything she wanted in a potential partner, successfully making her feel remorse for how much of your time she had wasted by not pursuing this sooner. Mel was fearful of how you would move forward together, but god she wanted it terribly. 

Jacob interrupted her thoughts with his own - knowing full well he was treading on grounds that could quickly earn him a place on Melissa’s ‘Perpetually Ignore’ list. He was shockingly plain and confident with his words, “I know you are going through something right now, but don’t... hurt your friend in the process.”

Melissa sat in his words, truly taking them to heart. She wanted to do better by you and she knew where she needed to start, but she was fearful of taking that leap. The redhead stared down into her lap as she began picking at her nails, “We aren’t really friends...”

Tears formed in Melissa’s eyes, but she wasn’t about to let Jacob see how scared she was to admit those words aloud. She hadn’t even truly come out to Jacob and she was feeling entirely overwhelmed at the prospect. Jacob wasn’t phased, rather he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. He rubbed her arm gently as he spoke, “I know, Melissa... I know.”

Link to Chapter 6

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #toxic relationship? kinda

[oddinary4bts]

When the End Comes | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: moving, curses, alochol, explicit content: female and male masturbation, pain kink (Jungkook), mentions of blowjob and penetrative sex

☆word count: 8.7k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: I don't even know what to say about this chapter, just that I FEEL their pain so much :'( justice for my babies

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

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But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

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Thursday, July 6th

                Days and weeks have passed. Apparently, even months have. Jungkook hasn’t really noticed – he’s been stuck in a daze, stuck replaying your breakup over and over again. Wishing he’d begged you to stay, though he could tell that nothing would have been fruitful.

You had made your decision already.

He hasn’t done anything since you left. Hasn’t left your apartment except for looking for a new one, when Yoongi forced him to go. Because alone, he can’t afford the one you had together. And it’s too filled with memories anyway.

All the pictures on the shelves by the window, turned towards the wall the night you left. The echo of your laugh, in every room he steps in. The ghost of you, just a silhouette he can’t ever reach when it’s dark and his mind is playing tricks on him.

The night you left, he thought it was a joke. A sick, twisted prank, and he believed you’d come back. When hours passed and dawn approached, he got up from the spot where he was sitting in, near the door, and turned the pictures towards the wall before heading to bed.

He hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed, and he’d slept with Bam directly on the floor.

A few nights later he’d made an actual bed with blankets on the floor, and he’s been sleeping there since then. But not tonight – tonight he’ll try sleeping in bed, in his new apartment.

A space that shouldn’t remind him of you too much.

He’s packed almost everything before today. He had nothing else to do, and it served to keep his mind busy during the long hours of the day. At night he usually has nothing to keep his mind from going to you, and he thinks he’s stuck in the moment when you left.

It’s a looped film in his mind, a horror movie that will forever haunt him.

The boys are helping. They brought most of the boxes he’s packed to his new place already, a small studio in the same building as Yoongi and Kiko. It’s on the other side of town, far from where he built a life with you, and he really hopes your ghost won’t follow.

Though he doubts he’ll ever escape it.

Everyone is currently doing a trip to the other apartment, except Jungkook and Yoongi. Mostly because Jungkook has been standing in the empty living room, save for the pictures on the shelves.

You left with the couch and the dinner table, telling him to keep the TV even though you were the one to buy it years ago. And that day you came to pick up your stuff…

Another haunting moment to add to the long list that’s been tormenting him since you broke up.

He shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching as the familiar ache takes over his heart. He doesn’t want to cry today – at least not before he’s alone in his new place. Because he hates how his friends are concerned, hates that he can’t just stay home alone.

None of them understand the sorrow that’s been plaguing him – hell, all of them except Jimin are happily dating. A dirty, ugly part of him hates them for it, and he’s been trying to distance himself.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, startling him.

Jungkook’s hand falls to his side, and he forces his eyes open. Yoongi is next to him, an eyebrow cocked in question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to put these in a box?” Yoongi enquires, and Jungkook clenches his fist as Yoongi’s pointing to the pictures.

“I can take care of it.”

It takes him a few seconds before he does get in motion, and he heads to the shelves. There’s already a box waiting for the frames, one Taehyung put there earlier before Jungkook told him not to touch anything.

“Do you want help?” Yoongi asks carefully.

Jungkook steels himself as he grabs the first picture. He already knows which it is, from its placement on the shelf. It’s one of his exhibit’s pictures. The one he titled ‘Where I found hope again’. It’s the sunset from the living room of the apartment he’d found for you.

Seeing it hurts, but he barely pays attention to it, carefully putting it in the box before grabbing the next one. There you are, cheeks red and smile bright in the snow of December, and he feels like dying as he remembers the name of that one.

‘Where I learned to love again’. It feels like it’s laughing at him right now, like life is having a good laugh at his expense. He wants to throw it away, to burn and watch your beautiful form crumbling into ashes.

Instead, he puts it away, before moving to the next one. He thinks he goes blind – he doesn’t see the next pictures. Doesn’t focus on any of them, and lets the ache take over his action, over his heart. When he’s done, he realizes that the apartment is once again filled with voices – none of them being the right one, and he wishes to be alone.

Wishes to be allowed to crumble, to let himself be carried by the wind.

The rest of the day is a blur. He barely remembers getting to his new place, riding shotgun next to Jimin while Taehyung and Namjoon talked about something on the backseat. Jimin was silent, respecting Jungkook’s need to not speak, and maybe it’s for that reason that Jungkook says yes when Jimin asks if he wants some company when the others finally start filing out at the end of the day.

They all hug him tight, tell him that they love him and hope he’ll like his new place. With everything placed, Jungkook knows that he’ll always hate it, because it lacks the only thing that he truly wants – you.

And he’ll never have that again.

“Want to order something?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook is sitting on a kitchen chair, watching the condensation on his glass of water when Jimin speaks. He raises his head – his friend is scrolling on his phone, and he shoots Jungkook a look as he remains silent.

“Sure,” Jungkook finally answers. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Jimin nods. “There’s this great dumpling place nearby, and they deliver.”

“Oh.”

If Jimin notices Jungkook’s lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t mention. Because Jimin is a good friend – he’s been one of Jungkook’s closest friends for years for a reason after all.

“Pork and green onion works for you?” Jimin asks.

“Sure.”

“I’ll get the marinated cucumbers too.” Jimin pouts at his phone as he focuses, and then his gaze darts once to Jungkook. “Anything else you want? They got bobas too.”

Just thinking about drinking boba makes Jungkook feel nauseated, so he shakes his head no. Jimin purses his lips, nods curtly and then says the food is on its way.

His statement is followed by silence, until the front door opens as Yoongi returns with Bam, as promised. Kiko was taking care of him all day, since she and Yoongi live in the same building. Yoongi promises that Bam was a good boy, and then he leaves again, nodding his head at Jimin.

As if to say ‘thank you for being here’. Jungkook hates the gesture, hates that he let Jimin stay, but he figures he can always just ask him to leave when they’re done with the food.

He had to eat anyway, right?

Needless to say, his appetite has been off, since the day you left. He’s been working out more though, something to keep his mind busy, but he’s been unable to eat like before. Jimin forces him to eat half the dumplings though, and Jungkook reckons that even after everything, dumplings still slap.

Not a lot of things in life still slap without you around.

One thing that does suck is, Jimin tries to make conversation through dinner. He asks Jungkook if he has any project coming up, if he ever plans on returning to Europe. The answer is easy, and Jungkook gives it without an ounce of hesitation.

“No.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, as if surprised by his answer. “Why?”

Jungkook grits his teeth, but offers no answers. He thinks it’s obvious – he’s been hating the European continent ever since the night you left because he can’t bring himself to hate you instead. So he directed it to the place that took you from him, and so far it’s been keeping him going.

“You know…” Jimin carefully says. “We’ve all been avoiding talking about it. But how are you even doing, bro? Every time I see you it’s just…”

Worse. He’s convinced that’s what Jimin was going to say, and he doesn’t blame him. It’s worse every time because he has been getting worse. As if adding another mark on the calendar equals to adding another on his heart, and the wounds haven’t had time to heal.

He doesn’t think there’s enough time in a lifetime to heal from losing you.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook lies easily.

Bam offers him salvation, barking by the door. As he rarely does, Jungkook gets up, a frown moving on his features. Jimin lets him go, even as Jungkook mumbles he’ll take the dog outside. His friend remains silent, and Jungkook is able to slip into the evening without Jimin pressing him about the lie.

As Jungkook had assumed, Bam just needed to pee, and probably barked because of the unfamiliar environment. Jungkook debates taking him on a walk, hoping Jimin would be gone by the time he comes back, but it feels too cowardly, even for him.

So he takes Bam in right away – the walk would have been hell anyway.

Jimin hasn’t moved while he was gone, and Jungkook tries to avoid the conversation by cleaning the table, putting away the empty dumpling container in the recycling bin after he’s rinsed it thoroughly. He feels Jimin’s gaze boring into the back of his head, but he does his best to ignore it.

“You shouldn’t drop your job in Europe,” Jimin suddenly says.

Jungkook whips around from his spot by the counter under which the recycling bin is. “What?”

“Isn’t it…” Jimin winces, shaking his head slightly. “Listen, this will be tough love, but isn’t it losing everything if you just… drop it too?”

Jungkook sees red. “Get the fuck out.”

“Bro.”

“Get the fuck out,” he repeats, putting emphasis on each word.

“We’re just worried about you,” Jimin says carefully, still not moving from where he’s sitting.

Jungkook has half a thought that he could carry his friend out if he wanted to, but surprisingly enough his heart breaks in his chest, tears blinding his vision.

“I just can’t go, okay?” he chokes out, and his nails dig in the palm of his hands as he clenches his fists hard. “I just can’t.”

Jimin watches him carefully, before sighing deeply. “Okay. It’s okay. There’s plenty of stuff you can do here too.”

Jungkook gulps, blinking the tears away until Jimin is clear in front of him again. “Can I…”

He stops, because he knows he shouldn’t ask. Knows he shouldn’t care, yet he can’t help himself. Jimin doesn’t press, waits for him to be able to speak. It takes longer than Jungkook thought possible, and he has to shut his eyes and lean against the counter before he finds words again.

“Can I ask how she has been doing?” he voices, words falling softly, almost soundlessly, in the space between them.

“Jungkook…”

“Just,” Jungkook lets out, eyes shooting open. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

Jimin’s silence is telling enough – you must be going through it too. It fills Jungkook with bitterness, with something vile and disgusting that tastes like bile on his tongue. Because you don’t get to be suffering, you don’t get to have made this decision and suffer from it.

Why the fuck did you make that decision then?

“You know,” Jimin starts carefully. “You guys were together for a long time.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks. “Why did she do this?”

And then the tears are moving freely, and Jimin quickly gets up to hug him. Jungkook rests his forehead against his friend’s shoulder as he breaks in the embrace, like he’s been doing for weeks now.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jimin promises when the tears recede and Jungkook stops trembling, as if his body, too, is too tired to keep on breaking.

Strangely, he gets the feeling there’s nothing left to break anyway.

“How?”

Jimin remains silent for a while, as if searching for the exact right words to say. Jungkook doubts they exist – how can someone repair a broken heart such as his?

“Life finds a way,” Jimin eventually chooses to say. He pulls away from the hug, though he still holds onto Jungkook’s shoulders. “Life always finds a way.”

Saturday, July 15th

                You’re tired. Have been tired. Think you’ll forever be tired. A relentless exhaustion has settled over you like a mantle of snow settles on the land during the months of winter. With it comes an unshakable cold, and even though it’s summer you’ve been cradling your hoodie to your frame, draping yourself with it as if it’ll chase the cold away.

The cold is never going to leave. You think your heart turned to ice in your chest, and it pumps freezing blood into your veins. You’ve been trying to warm up, but heat is a mirage to you, an illusion you can’t reach.

Heather and Bridget are hosting a dinner at their apartment today. You’d wanted to avoid it, but considering they offered you a room for a few weeks before you found a new apartment, you couldn’t say no. Yet you dread the moment you’ll be faced with the other girls, some of them your friends because they are dating… his friends.

You’ve been trying not to think about him too much. It’s hard – he’s lurking at the back of your mind, a reminder of your failures. Of the places where you went wrong, the mistakes you committed. Not that the breakup was a mistake – you think you made the right decision, or at least you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you have.

But you didn’t lie to him – you love him. Still do, though now it’s more like grief. Though, what is grief if not the next step in the eternal timeline of love?

You worry at your lips, bury your hands in the pocket of the hoodie. You fumble with your keys as you wait in front of the door, as you try to knock but find you’re unable to. Because it means talking to them, it means pretending that you have been able to eat or sleep for weeks.

You reckon Heather and Bridget know, to a certain extent. Saw you wither like a flower when autumn comes, though you think now you’re settled in deep winter.

You think it’ll pass. You doubt a pain like this can last – no soul can withstand it forever. But that would be admitting that he was your soulmate, and you aren’t stupid.

Soulmates don’t exist. Because if he was, why then was the distance enough to break you up?

You sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of your feet. You take a steadying breath – it does nothing to help.

You’re a coward. You’ve become a coward, and you think it might be because you put all of your courage in that night weeks ago. It broke you, broke the steel you used to be able to drape yourself with.

Now you’re stuck in the never-ending winter, withered and lifeless.

“Y/n!” Jo says, and you startle.

You turn your head to the side to see Jo as she’s walking around the corner, and she smiles at you as she makes her way towards you.

“Hey,” you reply as your throat goes dry.

If he has a best friend, or at least a female one, you think it’d be her. They’ve been friends since before you reconnected with him, since before you even knew her. Seeing her feels like it’s wrong, but then again everything has been feeling wrong lately.

“Did you already ring?” Jo asks as she stops next to you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head no. “Huh,” you let out. “I was about to.”

Jo nods, and you think she immediately senses your unease. She’s a good person though, and an even better friend. She doesn’t say anything, and she rings the door for you.

You don’t know what to tell her. All that you can think of is, if someone has news about him, it would be her. She’s the only one you believe there’s a chance he’s been honest to.

Before you can say anything, the door opens and Bridget ushers you inside. You realize that you’re the last ones to get there – you usually never are. Usually always make sure to be the first, only so that you can help the hosts.

It seems losing him changed that.

You greet everyone half-heartedly, quickly moving towards Jiho. Jiho hugs you, tells you she’s happy you came. You can’t return the sentiment, so you offer her a tight-lipped smile as Heather announces that dinner is ready.

Their chatter is lively. You feel like you’re watching the scene through a frosted window. Like you’re stuck in a blizzard, watching people reveling in the warmth of the other side, wishing somehow that they’d share it with you. And it’s not that they don’t try; multiple times throughout dinner the other girls try to talk to you.

You reply, you always do, but there is just so little to say, so little words your brain can conjure up. It’s like your thoughts are slower – you’ve been that way at work too. You’re lucky, you haven’t been working on anything big in the last few weeks. But next week you will be, and you don’t even know if you’ll be able to do it.

At least Harrison is on the case with you. As one of the most talented junior partners of the firm, you think he’ll be able to manage the case even with you at his side.

You eat what you can, though you’ve run out of appetite before you even broke up. You force yourself, mostly because you don’t like how Kiko’s looking at you. How you notice her leaning to speak in Jo’s ear more than once during the meal.

You’re aware that they’re speaking of you – do they hate you as much as you hate yourself?

You doubt they can.

When dinner is over, you offer to clean the dishes. Jo ends up on washing duty with you, and you work in silence, water sloshing around as you rub the plates clean while she dries.

You’re cleaning a wine glass when she says, “How have you been?”

The question is a simple one. The truth isn’t so, and you wonder if you should lie. You think it’d be a mistake. Jo’s perceptive, she’d see right through the lie.

“I’ve been better,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders as if it doesn’t matter.

That much is a lie, because everything about him mattered.

“I can understand.”

Heavy silence follows, and you pass the glass to her. You hope she won’t speak more, hope she’ll offer you kindness and let you dwell on your mistakes, but you know it’s unlike her.

Indeed, she speaks up after a minute. “You know…” She pauses, and you glance once at her to find her features troubled. “I was wondering… what brought you to this decision?”

You freeze, hands in the water. It’s hot enough that your skin is turning scarlet, yet you barely even feel it. “What?”

“If you don’t want to speak about it it’s fine,” she gently says. “But I’m just concerned about you.”

“Did he ask you to ask me this?” you enquire, accusingly. You frown at the tone of your voice, and apologize as you resume washing the glass you’re holding.

“No,” she answers. “He hasn’t really been talking to anyone.”

You shudder, with horror and compulsion at the person that you were weeks ago, the one that caused him to isolate himself.

“Oh.”

Jo waits a moment, but when it’s clear that you aren’t going to speak again, she says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t prod.”

You wet your lips, swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s okay.”

Perhaps that’s also a lie. Perhaps you believe nothing is okay, nothing will be okay again. But you don’t voice it – it’s all your fault anyway.

“It’s okay if it isn’t okay, you know,” Jo gently says as you hand her a glass.

Your vision blurs, but no tears fall. No tears are left – you cry them to sleep every night already.

“Long distance is a bitch,” is what you eventually say. “You think you can make it through everything, and then long distance happens.”

You want to clench your hand around the third glass, want to feel the shards of it cutting through your palm like the shards of him have been stabbing through your heart. You force your grip to remain loose, lest you stain the sink with blood.

“Like for real, without it we would have been fine.”

You’ve told Jiho the same thing. You think you’ve told him the same thing, but you barely even remember the breakup. Just remember holding onto him at the end, and then winter seeping in through the crevices in your soul.

“I’m sorry.” Jo looks at you kindly when you glance her way. She offers you a sad smile that you want to hate, yet it just makes you want to break. “I’m really sorry it came between the two of you.”

You take a deep breath to tame the aching in your chest, nodding once. “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not.”

She’s right, so you remain silent. Choose to seek solace in a wordless moment, one you spend finishing the dishes. And when you’re done, and she’s wiping the last one, you find yourself asking, “How has he been doing?”

She stops moving, meets your gaze before letting her gaze drop to her hands. “As I said, he doesn’t really speak to anyone.”

“Which means he hasn’t been great.”

You know him enough to know that. She does too – she nods, before shrugging her shoulders. “Jimin and Tae have been making sure he’s okay though. Surviving.”

Because sometimes all there is to do is survive.

You’re relieved that his friends are there for him. It lessens the pain somehow, to know he’s not alone. You aren’t either – Jimin is your friend too and, even though she’s a mom of two, Jiho has been there for you ever since the breakup.

The first time Lisa asked you where Jungkook was though… felt like heartbreak uttered in an innocent sentence. Like the universe had gone wrong, like left and right were interchanged. You were lost then, and you still are today.

All at your expense.

“Good,” you answer.

She looks conflicted, pained – you understand why when she asks, “What about you?”

You clench your jaw out of reflex, as if it’s an accusation. As if admitting that you’re going through frozen hell is wrong of you, somehow. You think it is. After all, this is supposed to be better than the distance.

“I’ve got Jimin too, and Jiho,” you reply, voice strained. “Bridget and Heather too. They’ve been helping.”

Jo nods. “Good. Don’t isolate yourself.” There’s a pause, and her features turn pensive. “And you know, you got me too. You have all of us.”

Tears blur your vision, but like your soul they turn to ice before rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

Smile apologetic, she nods again, as if her job here is done. And it must be – Kiko and Bridget walk into the kitchen, and they clearly don’t sense the atmosphere that’s clinging to you. They strike conversation with Jo, happily, and her stance switches to one that’s more relaxed.

You decide to leave them alone, because these three have always been a little closer to each other than you to them, and you return to the other room, where Chaeyeon, Valeria, Jiho and Heather are lounging on the couches. You debate leaving, debate claiming that you have to work early in the morning, but somehow you choose not to.

Is it a sign that you’re moving on? You don’t know.

When you do leave, later that night, at the same time as Jo and Chaeyeon do, you find yourself walking next to Jo as you head to your respective cars. Lance is picking Chaeyeon up, and she waves you two goodbye as you walk away.

You stuff your hands in the long sleeves of your hoodie, as if the air outside is remotely cold. It is not – there’s been a heatwave around for a few days. Luckily enough for you, a freezing heart seems to be a good remedy for the heat, and you still seek the comfort of your hoodie.

“I was wondering,” Jo says as you near where your car is parked. “Are you still planning on coming to the wedding?”

The forsaken wedding. The thing that set everything in motion – the spark that caught fire on years of your relationship.

You purse your lips, shrug your shoulders. “I think so,” you voice. “Yeah. You two are my friends, even if…”

If you’re closer to him. You don’t say as much, but it’s needless. Jo nods, understanding as ever, and she tells you that you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.

You think she’s a fool for believing that you wouldn’t want to go. Because… what’s wrong with wanting to make sure he’s okay with your own two eyes? What’s wrong with needing to see him in another context than this never-ending winter?

That night, you lie awake for hours. Picturing him behind your closed eyelids, only to find emptiness where he should be. The blankets are cold, the fan overhead not needed, yet you can’t bring yourself to turn it off.

Can’t chase the feeling of his absence from your heart.

You seek solace in memories of him, in the thought of his lips on yours. Of the featherlight kisses you used to exchange in the dead of night, when sleep was evading you or him. You must be half asleep – because suddenly you can almost see him here. Can almost hear his voice as he’d call you baby, mouthing the word against your neck before he’d suck on it.

Your heartrate picks up with the memory – they’re flooding in. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the inebriating sweetness of his kisses. You remember the weight of him on you, the press of his knee between your legs.

And then you seek solace with a hand between your thighs, trying to remember how he touched you. How his long fingers always dragged you to a land of pleasure, how he’d managed to keep you there until you were insane with his taste.

You breathe out his name, a soft moan, though it’s almost a plea. A plea for him to appear, for him to never have been gone.

For you to never have pushed him away.

When you come down from the high that finds you in your memories, you lie on your side, holding one of your plushies to your chest. They don’t replace him; they never have.

You end up crying yourself to sleep over the memories, over the July night sky and the dance crew and every night you took for granted, believing that he’d be yours forever.

You cry for your decision, no matter how right it was. Because you know it’ll always feel wrong.

Friday, July 28th

                There’s something about work that’s been setting you on edge. That’s been making you want to pull your hair out of your head – if only that was possible. It’s strange; you’ve been thinking about the breakup less now that you’re neck deep in work.

Now that you spend hours upon hours at work, after the usual closing time.

Luckily enough, you’re almost never alone. Harrison accompanies all of those late evenings as you work through the case, as he tells you what to do and you tell him you don’t need his help. He laughs at that – Harrison has an easy laugh. It makes its way to his lips whenever you speak, and it’s been like a ray of light in the otherwise dark land of your heart.

He’s a good coworker. Someone that’s noticed just how bad you are, but that’s decided to not treat you differently. To let you nurse your heart in peace, while he offers you the normalcy of what work should be.

Today, at lunch break, he suggested going out for dinner and drinks, along with the rest of the team that’s been working on the case. Mostly because you’re finally closing in on something that is clearly going to be good, and he believes it’s important to celebrate. You don’t have it in you to say no, and that’s how you find yourself squeezed between him and Anna, the paralegal that you’ve worked with the most, in the booth of a nice pub near the firm.

You’ve been sharing a nacho plate with Harrison and Ian, another one of the junior partners of the firm, and you’re sipping on a glass of the pitcher of sangria that Anna ordered for you and her. The buzzing of chatter and laughter makes the pub into a lively place, and you reckon you like the atmosphere.

You like the plants that cascade from their pots on shelves in the walls, like the hanging lights that shine brightly onto the tables, like the brick wall that gives the pub a nice industrial vibe. It just feels right, different than your usual.

Or maybe it’s the fact that the crew is different. That you aren’t with people that inevitably remind you of Jungkook, even though they shouldn’t.

Harrison’s English accent catches your attention as he says something to Ian – something about leaving work related conversation to the firm. As you turn your head towards the man at your side, he offers you a glance.

Harrison has clear blue eyes. Pale, like they hold the Caribbean sea in them. His eyes are beautiful, sparkling, and you offer him a smile.

He’s quick to smile back, and then he continues his conversation with Ian, who’s decided to speak about sports instead.  You decide to join in, even though you know practically nothing about sports, and the two men tease you for it.

There’s no bite to it, yet it feels familiar. Reminds you of someone that used to tease you all the time, and with the sangria coursing through your veins, you decide to jump on the occasion. To let the past be the past, and live in this moment, for once.

Perhaps it holds some sort of salvation for you.

“It’s not my fault if football is boring!” you insist. “It’s just dudes throwing a ball. Who cares about that?”

Harrison nudges you with his elbow. “Hey come on,” he says. “They don’t only throw a ball, sometimes they kick it too.”

He’s got a teasing smile on his lips, and to your surprise you find yourself rolling your eyes. “And the point system? Stupid.”

“It isn’t!” Harrison says, faking offense. “You wound me.”

You cock an eyebrow as Ian laughs, before turning to speak to Sam next to him as the guy asks him a question.

“Aren’t you British anyway?” you ask him. “Why do you watch football?”

“Because I like dudes that throw balls,” he jokes, before realizing that his sentence sounded wrong as you burst out laughing. “Well, not like that.”

“No, of course not,” you tease back.

“It’s just a fun sport,” he insists. “Used to watch it with my step-dad when I was younger.”

Now, the revelation eases the teasing mood that you’ve been diving into, and you offer him a small smile. “Sounds like fun.”

Because you can get that. You can understand the need to love something because someone you loved introduced you to it – dance was that for you, once upon a time. When your mother had introduced you to it, when you were too young to realize that to her, you dancing was just going to be an accomplishment.

Until it became a curse, as you chose to not pursue ballet the way she wanted you to. But that’s old history – even though you still don’t talk to your mother all that much, the hatred you’ve held for her for years after she’s kicked you out is lesser now. Practically non-existent, and you have your therapist to thank for that.

Years of therapy really did help, eventually.

You realize, tonight, how you haven’t really been living since you broke up. You’ve been a mere ghost, a mere winter wind, but tonight you think the air warms up. It warms up into a tentative spring breeze, and you cling to it.

You say yes when Harrison suggests heading to a club after, a VIP one where he’s a member along with Ian. Say yes to the shots offered to you, and you ignore the texts in the group chat with the girls saying that they want to meet up for lunch tomorrow. You focus on the now, focus on the fact that he’s not all you’re thinking of.

No, his big, doe eyes barely exist in your mind right now, replaced by ocean blue and an English accent. At least that’s what you tell yourself as Harrison says he’s a shit dancer, and you admit you were on a dance crew for years.

He cocks an eyebrow, says you’re full of shit, and that’s how you find yourself pulling him to the dance floor, not caring that his hair is paler than your usual, that his smile rings different.

Harrison is not a good dancer. He’s awkward, clumsy, and he steps on your feet more than once as you dance face to face, swaying to the beat of the club music. The flashing lights feel like a haven, like you don’t have to hide in the darkness left by Jungkook’s disappearance from your life.

You let Harrison put his hands on your waist, let him pull you closer, until he’s resting his forehead on yours. Your eyes shut from the proximity, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Somehow, that’s what makes you remember – not the dancing, but the intimacy of the position. It makes you crave another, makes you need to forget, and you’re the one that closes the gap.

You’re the one who kisses him first, and he kisses you back all wrong. There’s something missing – the piercing, perhaps – but you don’t let it deter you. Focus on the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, and you sigh as you let him in.

But Jungkook is there, in your mind. When Harrison’s hands tighten on your waist, it’s in Jungkook’s hair that you want to thread your fingers through. When he groans softly in the kiss, as you bite his lower lip, it’s Jungkook’s lips that you want to be sucking on.

And you think it’ll always be Jungkook. He’ll haunt you forever – a reminder of your weakness, when it came to the distance. A reminder that, after everything, you’re the one that ruined it.

You’re the one that put an end to what was supposed to be forever.

It aches, coldly. You think your heart barely knows how to beat anymore. It’s erratic, painful, and when Harrison pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes finding yours, you think his irises are made of ice.

“Hey,” he says gently.

“Hey,” is all you can think to reply.

If he sees the torment in your eyes, he ignores it. Guides you back to the table, where he leaves you with Ian and the rest claiming that he’ll get a water for you. And he does – he comes back with two bottles of water, and he hands you one as he sits next to you.

You think that’s what undoes you. That’s what breaks you, spills the content of your aching soul right there on the club’s floor. You don’t know who’ll pick up the mess – the one it belongs to is far away from these flashing lights. Far, yet closer than he was when the ending came. Somewhere in the city, you believe, because you don’t think he’s gone back to Europe yet.

Would he answer, if you were to call him? Would he pick up right where you left off, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if you haven’t destroyed his beating organ?

You hate it. Hate how, weeks later, the torture hasn’t diminished. Hate how you believed it’d be just a few rough days, when it’s been weeks and months and winter hasn’t changed.

So you do what you do best. You escape. Tell the table that you have to go, and make it outside before Harrison catches up to you. He asks if he can walk you home, which makes sense because you live in the same complex anyway. Not the same building, but Harrison lives in the one across the small square-like courtyard between the three condo towers where you’ve found a place to rent after Jungkook.

Up above, stars twinkle in the sky. They seem unaware that, after that cataclysm of a July night, the story came to an end. Like the universe never meant it, when it put you and him together. Or maybe it’s you – maybe you created a new cataclysm. Wrote your own fate, and all that crap.

You’re getting dizzy. Both with alcohol and spinning thoughts, but luckily enough the walk is short. Harrison grants you silence, sensing that you need it, probably. Because he’s gentlemanly. Not that Jungkook wasn’t – it’s just different.

And you shouldn’t be comparing him to Jungkook, but it’s far too easy. Especially as your treacherous little mouth asks him if he wants to share a drink in your apartment, as you tell him that you feel better now that you’ve breathed some air.

He says yes, though he seems unsure. He seems unsure all the way up to your floor, and even more so as you pull him in a kiss when the door closes behind you and him. Especially as you breathe against his lips, “Do you think you can make me forget?”

After everything is done, and you lie awake next to his naked form, both of you staring up at the ceiling in silence, you know the answer to that question.

And it’s quite simple – no. Because no one will ever be able to make you forget the one you were supposed to be with until you turned to stardust. Until all that would have been left of the two of you was etchings on a stone, and memories in the space between this life and the next.

Harrison is kind – he tells you that he senses you shouldn’t have done it, gently. Tells you that the only person that can make you forget is yourself, and time. And when he leaves, he tells you not to worry about anything. That he can be a friend, if you need it, but that he doubts you want anything more.

He’s right, and you cry yourself to sleep holding onto Totoro and Appa, hoping weeks ago you would have listened to Jungkook when he’d said not to break up. Hoping to turn back time, cursing the linearity of it. Remembering the punctuate events of you and him, wondering how the distance was enough to undo your timeline.

The sun winks at you when it rises, mocking you as night ends, with no answer for you. The what-ifs shine as brightly as the rays of the morning, all of them piercing through your darkened heart.

You shiver and hide your face in Totoro, hoping one day you’ll be able to evade winter.

Friday, August 18th

                Jungkook’s first thought when he steps into the restaurant is that it’s too loud. Too bright, with happy couples and smiling families sharing a meal as if life’s never ended, three months and ten days ago. He feels like an imposter – he hasn’t smiled since you left, and hasn’t laughed since before that.

He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, when Taehyung suggested it. Maybe because Taehyung and Jimin can be firmly persuasive, when they decide they’ll do something. Though, this time around, they’re not doing anything.

Anything other than having set this blind date with one of Taehyung’s coworkers.

Jungkook decides to find solace in his thoughts. Away from the bustling crowd of the restaurant, into the cool darkness where he’s been evading since he moved to his new apartment. Somewhere where the pain is lesser, where he doesn’t cry all the time.

That’s where she finds him. A shy smile, rosy cheeks as she voices, “Jungkook?”

He meets her gaze, finds her long lashes as she looks up at him innocently. He’s struck – she’s way out of his league. But so were you, and he’s got a whole story to tell about you now. He looks around as if to make sure the girl was speaking to him, as if she didn’t say his name, before he answers, “I assume you’re Emma.”

Another shy smile, and Emma nods her head. “The one and only.”

Jungkook wets his lips, and when the server comes to bring them to a table, he lets his gaze drop to the ground as he follows behind Emma.

He sits in front of her, feeling odd as she blushes and looks through the menu. Her shyness makes him feel awkward, and he doesn’t know what to say.

With you, he always knew what to say.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath and then lets his eyelids flutter open so that he can look through the menu too. He thinks, he just has to make it through the evening. Doesn’t have to see the girl again, even though her shy smiles are cute.

She is cute, but she’s not you. No one will ever compare to you.

He takes a deep breath once more, tries to push you out of his thoughts. For the first time in weeks, it’s not as hard. Maybe because his awkwardness is winning over, making him all too aware of every glance the girl throws his way.

They order, barely exchanging a word, until the girl throws him a lifeline. She asks about his photography, admits Taehyung told her about it, and Jungkook settles in his comfort space as he tells her about it, as he answers her question.

It’s impersonal, almost professional, but at least it keeps the pain at bay for a while. He even thinks he’s enjoying himself – by the time they’re eating and he’s drank half of his beer, he does feel lighter. Like he can finally breathe, like the hand clutching his heart in his chest has loosened.

Or maybe he’s just been getting too good at burrowing his feelings deep inside of him. Still, he barely smiles, barely laughs. And he knows none of his smiles quite reach his eyes, and he knows the girl must have noticed. She doesn’t say anything though, focuses on telling him what she does for work, and then goes on to tell him about what it was like for her growing up.

He zones out, nods when he figures he has to, tries to smile when there’s a lull in the conversation. He’s clearly not good at that – he’s never really gone on dates before. Except with Laura, before you, but even that barely counted as a date. Perhaps because he already knew Laura, and he’s struck thinking that the girl in front of him is a stranger. A stranger, yes, but she’s kind. So when she suggests sharing a bottle of wine, claiming that it’s her favourite and that she’s wanted to drink it in a long time, Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to say no.

Even though they’re already done with eating. She does order dessert, and he watches her eat as he nurses his glass of wine, taking sips from it once in a while.

He hasn’t drunk in a long time, and the effects start to be felt faster than usual. Or maybe the beer he drank before the wine was strong. Either way, his head starts swimming with alcohol before they’re out of the restaurant, and he relishes in the feeling.

Revels in Emma’s suggestion to take a walk to clear their head, along the small river near the restaurant. The evening air is fresh, though clouds hide the stars from view. It smells of rain – there are leftover puddles from earlier today – but it doesn’t seem like the sky will cry again tonight.

A soft breeze plays in Jungkook’s hair. He hasn’t cut it in a while. It used to be a lot longer, but he’s not used to it anymore, so it feels weird whenever strands of his hair pass in front of his eyes. He tries to push them back but to no avail: the strands stubbornly always fall in front of his eyes again, and he ends up giving up after a moment.

Turns out Emma is a gamer. She suggests playing some games together the next time they hang out, and Jungkook doesn’t have it in himself to tell her that they, as a matter of fact, won’t see each other ever again. Not because she isn’t sweet – she’s just not what he wants. And he doesn’t even want the distraction.

He did that once, and it didn’t serve him good. Even if he managed to have you in the end.

“What’s your favourite game?” Emma asks as she stops next to some railing overlooking the water. She leans against it, forearms resting on it as she looks at the water, eyes following the ripples in the river.

“I don’t game as much anymore,” he admits. He shrugs, tries to ignore the way his lungs burn.

Because he used to game with you next to him, and he doesn’t need reminders of you.

“Mine is Valorant,” she says, and she smiles at him as if she expected that to make him happy.

“Oh,” he lets out. He offers her a tight-lipped smile, and feels bad when her face falls a little. So he quickly adds, “I took you more for a Sims girl.”

She fakes offense. “What? Why?”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and he’s struck silent as he watches it. She seems to take that as a cue for something else, because she takes a step closer to him, eyes dropping to his mouth.

He thinks he’s frozen on his spot when she tilts her head back, tiptoes, and presses a featherlike kiss on his lips. Eyes wide opened, he watches her, until he figures he should be kissing her back.

So he does, hesitantly, as lead forms in his stomach, making him think that he’s going to be sick. Because she kisses him all wrong. Tastes all wrong too, and suddenly you’re burning in his mind, bright magma that moves in his veins until pain suffocates his lungs.

He takes a step back, and Emma’s eyes shoot open, as if startled. They stare at each other for a time, and then she gulps.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t care for her apology. Doesn’t care about anything other than the fact that he feels disgusted with himself. And for what? It’s not like he owes you anything anymore. As a matter of fact, he should be enjoying this. Should be enjoying that even though he was his most awkward self, he still was able to get the girl to kiss him.

Instead, he burns and he chokes on his saliva as he tries to swallow. He wonders why his vision is blurry, and he furiously blinks his eyes trying to keep Emma in focus.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “Gosh, I read this all wrong. I…” she pauses, shaking her head slightly, and it seems she’s been wearing a mask all evening, because it crumples into nothingness. “I just got out of a long relationship, Tae said you too and I just… Fuck I just assumed we could comfort each other?” When he remains silent, she continues, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She’s rambling, and Jungkook just hears his blood pumping in his ears. When he still doesn’t speak, she apologizes once more, and then tells him that she should go.

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t even look as she walks away, head hung low in what he assumes is shame. All he feels is the deep burning sensation, as it settles under his skin. Like a sunburn – he wants to scratch at it, wants to rip it from his skin, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re gone, and this ache is all that’s left of you. It’s all that’s left, so he clings to it. Tries to keep it close to his heart, where you belong. Picks at the scab, at the wound, until he’s bleeding all over again, breaking out in the city, where anyone can see that he’s lost you.

He doesn’t know how he makes it home. All that he knows is that he’s in the shower, later, head pressed against the tiles as cold water runs on his back. It mingles with the tears streaking down his cheeks, mixes with the saltiness of heartbreak.

It doesn’t cool the sunburn ache, doesn’t ease the pain in his chest. And you’re everywhere then – in the cracks on the wall, he believes he can see you. Believes he can reach out for you, though what he ends up doing is cranking the temperature of the shower up, until it’s not cold anymore.

Though he reckons he barely can feel it anymore.

So he forces his eyes shut, chases memories of you like a dog chases its tail – round in round, in a circle, because he thinks he’ll always circle back to you anyway. He imagines you, in all your glory. Imagines you’ve never left, imagines you’d still run your hands on his back, still dig your nails in his skin.

He doesn’t even know how his hand finds its way to the base of his dick. Doesn’t even know why he’s horny, why the pain makes him crave you more. Why it makes him touch himself, imagining it’s your touch. And with his eyes squeezed shut, you’re everywhere. The goddess of the land of his mind, and he can almost believe you’re still here.

He grunts, perhaps in pain, and picks up the pace on his dick. He remembers words whispered on your skin, your spit on his dick as you’d swallow around the tip. He remembers your tight walls, clutching him, holding him in as you’d ride him like there was no tomorrow.

He remembers a hot tub and the night that followed, remembers breaking and healing with you. Remembers the darkness of the accident, and the light you’d shine on him. The light is gone now, and only darkness remains. It’s not the same – it’s lonelier, somehow. Because he had everything, and now remains nothing. Just the ghost of what once was, and he wishes he could be taken back to the night on the hotel rooftop, wishes you’d never left.

And when he comes, it’s your name that he moans. Like a blessing, though now you’re a curse. A curse to him, and he wishes the pain would go away, wishes it would stay. Wishes it would bring you back, yet knowing he’d push you away. Because he doesn’t think there is pain as great as what you caused him, and then he curses himself for the thought.

That night, he lies awake in sheets cold as winter, weakened by his broken heart as he chases sleep that never comes.

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Living with the aftermaths of breakup sucks, doesn't it? What did we think of this chapter? Let me know! All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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#when the end comes ch 2 #when the end comes #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jjk angst #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jjk fic #jeon jungkook fic #btswritersclub #when the end comes series #the forgotten spaces sequel

[val-cansalute]

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 5

ch. 1

ch. 2

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 6

a/n: 😪 banners by cafekitsune and saradika-graphics

Snow still lays thick upon the soil once you’re gone. Along its boundless surface, specks of silver glisten, basking in the gentle glow of the moon, smothering the town’s bustle.

“You sure?”

The wind is cruel, lashing auburn locks erratically about Ellie’s face, numbed by the frigidity. In spite of the burning cold overtaking her limbs, her grip on the straps of the saddle tightens and her eye contact with Tommy turns ever so slightly hostile,

"Tommy, it’s been less than a day. She can’t be far. You comin’ or not? ‘Cause I’m doing this with or without you.”

He looks back at her wordlessly with a furrow in his brow, piercing through the tense silence laced with the distant bustle of Jackson,

“Alright… Let’s set off quick then.”

“Okay.”

Something compels her to silence, an impulse to keep her lips sealed over restless secrets. Maybe she knows that going after you is illogical, that it was a choice you made on your own. But she can’t bring herself to indulge in those realisations – all she knows is that she has to find you; there is no hesitation. Thankfully, the urgency in her tone was explanation enough for Tommy.

With a rushed onset, they split up to cover more ground, venturing onwards into the overrun territory encompassing Jackson with eyes vigilant, searching for signs of you, but seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to hours of vacillating between trot and gallop, losing sense of direction and fragments of determination to the exhaustion that mutinies her mind.

Thank god the hoofprints come into view when they do - as if by magic or a blessing, the impressed snow shows itself clear as day, juxtaposing the sea of white bordering it,  darkened by dirt and grime. Ellie perks up with desperate intrigue so she pulls the reins and crouches down beside them, muttering to herself,

“Huh, what do we have here?”

And then her heartbeat quickens in anticipation of relief,

“She's close.”

Verily, she follows, the tracks guiding her further into the dense vegetation with senses working overtime to accommodate the fact that it is winter and hordes are rampant. She fucking prays you didn’t run into one, but the forest is deafeningly silent, seeming to hold its breath tonight.

She’s fast on your track; in this moment, the path is hope, a lifeline steering her along.  Every now and then, a rustle of leaves, or the distant echoes of infected throw her mind into disarray, but she scans the area rapidly, shaky grip tightening on her firearm, before pushing on.

Just under an hour, the prints become faded and scattered, and the apprehension makes her stomach twist before she lifts her head to greet the destination - a desolate clearing.

“Fuck me.”

Dim moonlight hangs over Ellie and Tommy’s exhausted figures. The night has been relentless. The trail resulted in nothing more than wasted time and the discovery of a empty clearing, devoid of any sign of you.

Frustration and fatigue etched on her face and lingering in the air around her, Ellie kicks at a loose stone on the ground like a little kid, the full regret of having set off hurriedly with no real plan or navigation overcoming her. They’ve gotten nowhere.

In a see-through attempt at remaining pragmatic, Tommy pats her shoulder and states with a tone of reassurance, though it’s betrayed by the wearied rasp in his voice,

"We'll figure it out, Ellie. We just need to rest for a bit and rethink our strategy. She couldn't have gotten far."

But Ellie's resolve is fixed and her jaw is set in determination. It’s too late to turn back now, she knows that.

"I can't rest, Tommy. Every minute wasted is another minute she's further."

He sighs heavily with complete sincerity, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

"Ellie, she’s probably asleep right now, or some shit. And pushing yourself like this won't help anyone."

Their intermingling voices rise, threaded with increasing aggression until the tension has thickened beyond salvaging, and the rift between their convictions seems insurmountable in the darkness of the night.

Finally, unable to find common ground, Ellie announces,

"I'm not waiting. I'm going to keep searching. You wanna go back? Fine."

And, without waiting for a response, she takes off, leaving her horse and Tommy, who mutters quiet cusses into the heavy stillness of the night. She moves with purpose, the flashlight attached to her backpack tearing through the darkness.

She refuses to let the ache in her feet claim her; every step she takes echoes the silent plea for you to be found. Even as the hours wear on, Ellie's determination refuses to wane in spite of the fatigue gnawing at her bones. She can’t let herself think, she can’t let herself dwell, she has to keep searching, even if she can’t tell herself why.

However, the moon, as always, gives surrender to the encroaching dawn. Ellie's flickering hope of finding you dims as her steps grow heavier and her eyes wearier, and the first light of sunrise bleeds into the sky from the horizon.

Eventually, shattered and running on sheer god-like willpower, Ellie stumbles upon a vantage point, and stands over the landscape, large enough to swallow her whole millions of times over, like she’s the last person on Earth, staring into the face of impending destruction.

But it’s just dawn, and the overcast warm glow showers upon her as the realization that she has been searching through the night hits her. The screeching thought of you inevitably having gotten hurt plagues her mind. Deep breath, in and out, she lets the weight of it all settle upon her weakened shoulders, yet there’s still no time for rest.

The search is far from over.

You strain your neck to squint up at the skeletal structure that has born the brutality of the post-apocalyptic world, barely making out the details past the overgrown foliage seeping out of its broken windows and destroyed walls.

You enter with caution and heightened senses, searching for any signs of danger. The creaking floorboards beneath your feet shatter the palpable silence in the damp air.

Shifting through the shadows, your senses remain sharp and attuned to the slightest noise, scanning the objects illuminated by the dim light of dawn filtering through the cracks in the abandoned building. Shadows loom outstretched along the corridors.

In a shadowy corner, a man is crouched over a bag, and you watch him with a racing heart before you emerge, your silhouette a silent spectre against the dilapidated walls.

Your eyes meet for a fleeting moment before you both jump into action instinctively, but you swiftly disarm him. The struggle is brief but intense, and he is overpowered, because, if there’s one thing fear has taught you, it’s that each movement has to be calculated and purposeful.

And when he’s on his knees, trying to plead for mercy, when he’s scraping pathetically at the scruples of humanity left in your soul, you remain resolute - just don’t think. Your grip is firm as you subdue him.

A few blows leave him incapacitated, and you leave it at that because you have never been able to succumb to gratuitous violence. He lets out a muffled groan with his cheek pressed against the cold stone floor.

Swiftly, you bind is wrists and ankles taut, ensuring he can’t pose a threat before confiscating his meagre supplies and rifling through them. Food, water, anything that could sustain you on the journey ahead, you take, and then you drop his bag my his side and arise.

You turn to leave, but you glance back at the man over your shoulder, meeting his eyes with a solemn expression. You haven’t done this in a while, not since you arrived at Jackson, and your penchant for showing no mercy has been buffed down.

There’s so much you have to beg your mind to steer itself away from, beg it to not to linger on the helplessness in his eyes as he looks back at you, or how you would’ve slit his throat without a doubt when it was just you and Soren.

With the stolen supplies secured, you walk through the entrance. You have to convince yourself of one last thing.

Mercy takes on different forms.

Out into the muted light of dawn, the air is brisk, and the horizon enlightening drags the worry of not making it out of the treacherous night you endured off your shoulders. A new day. A momentary respite washes over you; you’re only a little scathed.

With the first light of dawn illuminating your path,

“Only an hour or two away …”

It is a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it’s enough for someone with your past.

Mounting her horse, the familiar weight of the saddle grounds you as you set off once more into the unknown. The rhythmic, muffled thump of hooves against the snow-blanketed floor, and the shadow of the horse and rider stretched long over the ruins, a lone traveller navigating the remnants of a world.

You ride on, your mind numb to the thought of returning to Soren. Back to the old house, to the doorstep where your heart lies dormant.

Crestfallen, the fruitless landscape stands before Ellie, as if to mock her hunched over figure, bathed in the warm hues of the noontime sun. She has been traversing since the wee hours of the morning after stopping momentarily to map out a journey in her relentless pursuit of you, trying to stay determined, but the urgency that keeps her moving forward is dulled by the incessant pangs of hunger and the desperate struggle to keep her eyes open. Doubt creeps in as the vast emptiness erodes her resolution.

Just as thoughts of turning back infiltrate her sleep-deprived mind, a faint sound carries along a whistling gust of wind, drawing her fading attention. Pained noises, barely audible, leave her instantly alert, and Ellie follows the source of the sound with a subtle limp in her step. Though her senses are sharpened by the urgency of the situation, everything still seems blurrier and muffled.

Guided by the haunting echoes, she carefully weaves her way through the silent surroundings, every step weighted with anticipation, into a derelict building.

She approaches cautiously, entering a room where the sound is amplified and she comes face to face with the source: a man, bound and gagged, his eyes shut as he lies, weakened by his restraints. Without hesitation, Ellie kneels beside him, pistol pressed to his pained temple, her gaze unwavering,

“Who did this to you?" she demands, her voice edged with a fierce determination. His eyes fly open, looking up at her fearfully.

“Shit! Some fuckin’ girl – I don’t know!”

“… When did she leave?”

“Like ten minutes ago! I haven’t got shit, she took everything! I’m begging you, please untie me!”

She stands, contemplating it for a moment, before she kicks him over so that he can contort his body into a sitting position, eliciting a sharp groan. He wasn’t tied up beyond hope of managing to undo the knots, you made sure of it,

“You can figure that out on your own, I got shit to do.”

With a sense of exhilaration, Ellie jogs out and circles to the back of the building, her eyes scanning the snow-covered ground for any sign of movement where she notices a fresh set of foot and hoofprints, meeting at a point along the line where they become one trail of hoofprints, a delicate dance littering the frozen canvas.

Hope surges within Ellie as, once again, she follows the tracks. She has to move fast; you have a horse and she has only her feet. The air is tense with anticipation, but she somehow manages to power through the all-consuming exhaustion and hunger with the promise of getting closer to the elusive figure she seeks.

The sun dips lower on the horizon; the bitter cold forgotten in the warmth of purpose.

Nothing is left of your house but the gnarled bones of the home it once was. The memories of all you left behind seep through the cracked walls – the good and the bad, a silent witness to the passage of time.  You hold your breath captive in your tightened chest and push open the door, its rusty hinges protesting your return with a shrill creak.

The air is thick with dust dancing in the slivers of dim light that manage to pierce through boarded windows. Everything surrounding you, once thriving and familiar, is now reduced to mere echoes, whispers. Your fingers gently trace the life left in the fray, your gaze sweeping over the remnants of all you lost to the destruction. There’s nothing but blood left to salvage, to hold onto.

You lay in the centre of what used to be your bedroom, save for the actual bed, beside the shadow of the place where Soren used to lie, but there is no reprieve. You can’t look at it, your gaze pointed to the damp-stained ceiling, rust-coloured organic forms scattered across it.

If there’s one thing you can trust to remain a constant in your life, it’s that memories flood your mind no matter when or where you are, unbidden and unwelcome. Here, you can let them play out wholly, succumb to the deserved guilt that you cannot let yourself escape.

Trace the mustard outline of the leakages in the wallpapered walls with the movement of your weary pupils, stop trying to battle the thoughts as they influx from the depths. Turn your head to look at the ruined wall – no matter how hard you scrubbed, droplets of what once was his blood, and his blood only, taken over by that cruel evil, seeped through and infected it just as the clicker infected him. They still burn as hot and bright as they did that night, staring back at you.

You had been splayed out on the floor, over tattered blankets, similar to now, waiting for Soren, who had heard a noise beyond the gate. The worry was becoming an annoyance, so you got up and ran out into the night to find him, further out than you usually would on your own.

You should’ve stayed. Never should’ve wandered. It was your fault he had to fight off that clicker, the scar etched into his back for all eternity, evidence of your fatal error. Even though you made it home with adrenaline pumping through your veins, the nagging sting eventually became an undeniable ache, and from that point, Soren was already dead.

He begged and begged, eyes glassed over for the first time since your mother died, but your pathetic selfishness left him shrinking beside the new force overcoming his body, till he became what he prayed he would never become.

Then, and only then, did you do it. Coward that you are, bashing his obliterated skull over and over in the haze, blood and brains sent adrift, consuming all the surfaces they landed on, your mind, body, and soul, for the rest of your life, and anything that lies beyond.

There’s a violent shift and you jolt back to the surface, gasping for air like you were drowning with sharp, shallow, greedy breaths.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Ellie's urgent voice cuts through the remnants of the memory.

"I got you," she whispers, a breathless relief in her voice. You, disoriented and still caught in an intersection between past and present, struggle to hold back the already fallen tears and even in spite of the glaring truth that you came here wilfully, the sight of her brings sweet relief.

“Ellie-”

“Shimmer.”

“Huh?”

“The horse’s name is Shimmer.”

#Spotify #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie fluff #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 #fanfic #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams angst #tlou part 2 #tlou #the last of us #the last of us x reader #wlw #lesbian

[spacecowboyhotch]

In Plain Sight, Ch 1: Docile Pyre

summary: nathan tries his best to wade through the sea of feelings you’ve brought up in him. he’s kinda shitty to you while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: this entire series is 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, nathan is a pining asshole, reader is so competent and cool

wc: 2,200

AN: BE NICE TO ME PLEASE GOD. i don’t know where this came from. on christmas eve morning, nathan bateman himself walked into my apartment and made me write this. who am i to argue with a man who looks like oscar issac?

in plain sight masterlist | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan learned quickly that his usual backhanded compliments and intelligent snarkiness don’t work for you. You don’t care enough to let him get under your skin, don’t care enough to be baited into an argument. It gets under his skin.

You make him sick. Sick in a way he’d never felt before. He thought he was the epitome of unbothered and unchanged until he met you. He feels like a fucking teenage boy, wiping his sweaty palms and reminding himself that he’s in control. He’s the boss. So why does his heart flutter when you look him in the eyes so intently as he gives you task after task to do?

You never complain. You never say much at all. He wishes that you would say something. That you would lash out or fight back— give him something. He wants to see you.

But you’re prim and perfect. All “yes sir” and “no sir”. Mr. Bateman this and Mr. Bateman that. No one calls him Mr. Bateman. It’s fucking silly, the way it affects him when you do. You handle each task he gives you with ease— even when he has you calling the most difficult of his colleagues. In meetings, they mention how charming you are, sweet and charismatic. Nathan doesn’t even get that. For someone who’s all about AI, blank stares, and obedient droids, your likeness to them is driving him crazy. He knows that you’re a person with emotions, desires, and opinions. So he picks and picks and picks, hoping that one day you’ll break.

Why won’t you show him? Why does he care so much? Why is he completely enamored with you anyway?

Being around you starts to confuse him. Nathan hates that feeling. He likes to be the smartest in the room— he needs it or he starts to feel small. Like he’s that little boy he was all those years ago, staring up into the angry eyes of his parents as they spew insults at him. But, he can’t seem to find a balance when he’s around you, he hates the feelings you invoke but can’t seem to work himself out of the tangled mess in his heart. Before you, he was sure that he didn’t have one anymore.

“Can you work overtime tonight? I need all of this sorted and filed,” He gestures to stack upon stack of paperwork in the corner of his lab.

“I just need to make a call, sir.”

Nathan knows that you have a life outside of him and this job— any normal person would. But, he’s not normal, is he? It reminds him that despite these harbored feelings, he’s not compatible with you. You deserve someone normal. Maybe that’s who you need to call, maybe you already have someone. Jealousy courses through his veins.

He raises a brow at you, his voice cool, “A call? You have something more important to do than your job?”

You give him no information. Just a polite smile as you head towards the door, “I’ll just be a moment, sir.”

Nathan pretends to tinker around with his synthetic brains and limbs and skin until you’re finished filing. He thought it’d take longer, but you finish in a couple of hours. He’s always impressed with you and your performance but it goes sour the moment you reach for your bag.

“If that’s all Mr. Bateman, I’ll see you at 9 a.m.”

“Wait,” He says, trying to prolong your time together, trying to see if you’ll give him any sort of reaction if he gives you more work. But no. You turn to him with ease, a polite and expectant look on your face. He gives up. “I’ll send you a grocery list. You can be here at 10 a.m.”

“10 a.m.,” You repeat with a soft nod.

Then Nathan’s all alone again. He heads into his bedroom, opening one of the closets. He needs to get lost for a while. He needs you off his mind.

—

Nathan tries. He really tries not to watch you so closely. He tries to distance himself from you. He stops giving you the tasks he used to give you just to hopefully piss you off. His attempts are useless though. The only thing that could keep him from watching you is firing you. He doesn’t have control, he feels powerless in the face of your docile stare.

He starts to notice things. That your hair is a little out of place. That your clothes aren’t as crisp and clean as usual. He sees the bags under your eyes. He sees you sleeping during your lunch break instead of eating. Your work doesn’t suffer and neither does your attitude but the subtle light in your eyes gets dimmer and dimmer as time wanes on.

Nathan had wanted to see you, sure, but he didn’t want to see you like this. Something’s wrong. He’s not sure has the courage to ask you about it. He feels guilty when he has to ask you to work late on a Thursday afternoon. It feels like it’s festering inside him and he almost forgoes asking. It gets what he’s wanted for months and months on end. You finally crack.

“Hey, I need you to work late tonight,” He murmurs, more gently than he’s spoken to anyone…ever. Fuck, you make him soft. It’s disgusting. It’s unfair. It’s blasphemy.

You continue to type when you respond, “I can’t, sir.”

Nathan freezes, unsure if he’s just heard you correctly. “Excuse me?”

You inhale a soft breath, your gaze airing on slightly apologetic, “I said that I can’t. I can’t work late tonight, Mr. Bateman, I’m sorry.”

“And why not?”

“I’m not sure that that’s any of your business. Sir,” You add respectfully.

“Any of my business?” He repeats, incredulous.

“Yes, sir.”

He stares at you for a handful of seconds, weighing his options. The tasks he wants to give you could wait until more— he’s simply impatient. But, he’s got buy-in now with your disagreement and secrecy. He could push…and he does. “I didn’t ask, I ordered. I need you here for a few more hours.”

It works. For the first time since you started working for him a little under a year ago, you finally show him something. You’re angry, he can tell by the way your brows knit together and your mouth twists. It thrills him.

You stew for a few beats, no doubt deciding if you should voice your rebuttal or go on as usual. Nathan watches you eagerly, hoping of course for the latter. It doesn’t come. Instead—

You close your eyes, growing statuesque. Nathan can only tell you’re still breathing because of how close he is, and how intensely he’s watching you. You open your eyes after a moment and say easily, “Then I need to make a call. It’ll just be a moment, sir.

You work diligently that night, finishing up in just half the time he suggested. He’s almost tempted to give you more, but he knows that would just make things worse. Despite your cool collected manner, the air in the room feels heavier, the energy shifted. He knows he’s fucked up. And if he wasn’t sure, he is when you get up to leave without your usual goodbye or so much of a glance at him.

It’s only after you’ve gone that Nathan takes a good look at his calendar. It’s New Year's Eve. He’d made you stay late on New Year's Eve. That guilt from before rears its ugly head, more gut-wrenching than before. He makes his way to the kitchen to drink it away. It’s replaced with alcohol, hot jealousy, and a hint of sadness. You’d had plans for New Year's Eve. You weren’t going to be lonely like him, if you still made it to those.

Fuck and who were they with? Some guy? Some woman? Did it matter? Not really. The only thing that mattered is that you opened up to them. You show them who you are. Nathan sits hunched over on the couch, bottle in hand staring into the fire.

No, I’m not sorry, he thinks drunkenly to himself. If keeping you late kept you with him and away from whoever was in your life then he wasn’t sorry. He was selfish and unkind, but not sorry. Assholes like him don’t get to be sorry. He’d be a monster that would keep you as long as he could in any way that he could.

—

When you come in on the second, you look exhausted despite the day off. It almost sets him off, but he’d spent most of yesterday thinking about you. The drinking had taken away his guilt, his jealousy, or that unworthy feeling he’s been running from all his life. You…well you make him want to face. Dig to the root of it and cast it out of himself, but he knows he’s not strong enough. The most he can do right is an apology.

Nathan comes to sit on the edge of your desk, blocking the screen so you have to look up at him. “Hey.”

You look up at him with those soft, tired eyes. “Yes?”

He shifts, scratching the bare patch atop his head awkwardly, “I uh— the other night, it was shitty of me to make you work late on New Year’s Eve.”

“I made it work, sir.”

Fuck him, you’re making this hard. His silly little anger about your disposition isn’t justified, he realized that when he sobered up yesterday but he feels ready to explode with it. Spending New Year’s Day alone had never bothered him until yesterday. He had never himself alone, given his bots, until you. You’re screwing with his head, making it all fucky.

“Mr. Bateman?”

A small shiver runs down his spine. He nods, clapping his hands together before hopping off your desk. He needs space and air. “It won’t happen again. On any holiday.”

You fix him with a polite smile, nodding, “Sure.”

Nathan avoids you as much as he can for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s his only option now. He knows that there’s no point in fighting this. Once he feels a certain way it might as well be set in stone. It’s hard to accept that. Even if it wasn’t, he doesn’t want to.

He runs into you on his way out, and before he can think better of it, he’s talking, “Hey, wait up one second.”

“I can stay late, it’s not a problem,” You say mechanically.

“No, I’m not— fuck I’m not asking you to stay late again. I’m an asshole but Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Did I make a mistake then, sir?”

He can’t help himself— he laughs. It dissolves into a maniacal giggle, his hands rubbing at his eyes. “Fuck’s sake. No, sweetheart, you didn’t make a mistake. What I meant to say earlier was I shouldn’t have made you work late on New Year’s Eve. I shouldn’t make you work so late any day, I don’t know your life, I don’t know you.”

“Alright.”

“And what I mean by that is— you know that this is me saying sorry? Right?”

“Yes, Mr. Bateman, I understand what you’re saying completely.”

“Great. Well?”

You tilt your head at him— it’s almost unsettling. “Well?”

“Usually someone apologizes, says it won’t happen again, and then the other thanks them. Accepts the apology. All that jazz. That’s how it works in the movies at least if I’m not mistaken,” He grins, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Yes, sir, I know how apologies work.”

He nods his head at you expectantly, “Then it’s your turn.”

You do that thing again from the other night, where you go so still you could be made from stone. He watches you with curious eyes, and when your gaze meets his, he can see it— the fire. He’s cracked you again. This time he hopes for a better result.

Shoulders squared, clutching your bag tightly over your shoulder you say, “With all due respect and complete honesty, Mr. Bateman, I don’t accept. I don’t care to. While I appreciate your attempt, none of what you said was a true apology. That almost means that well, there was nothing for me to accept. I’ll see you at 7 a.m., sir.”

Nathan watches you leave, his mouth slightly agape. You had just, so politely and succinctly told him off. He feels like his world has been turned upside down like he’s been bitten by a snake he was told wasn’t poisonous. And he wants to be bitten again. Again and again, he wants to stoke that fire in you until it’s an uncontrollable rage. A forest fire with no end in sight. He wants to be engulfed in it, willing and ready to suffer the burns of handling you. Where he’d been prepared to give up on you after apologizing— okay with sacrificing you to someone who might actually have a chance at deserving you— he refuses to now.

This feels like a challenge. You want him to be better? He’ll do it. He’d do anything for you. And he will.

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @faretheeoscar, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @kotaropuppy

#im impatient and posting this todayyyyy #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #nathan bateman fanfiction #ex machina fanfiction #nathan bateman #ex machina #in plain sight #not sfw #arson writes

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen) (Ch. 2)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 4.0k+

Warning(s): Intense car accident scene (its a nightmare/memories. involves blood, gore/body horror), mentions of minor character death/parents dying, swearing, anxiety/stage fright, bullying at Forks mentioned but no scenes depicting it, edward watches MC sleep lmao

A/N: Here is chapter two! I really like this one personally. There is a lot of just narrative, but a good amount of dialogue too. I enjoyed writing the Edward and MC scenes :^) I hope you guys like it too. Taglist is at the bottom.

Series Masterlist

"Bright Star, while thou thy lonely way

Pursu'st in yon expanse of blue,

Thy gem-like form and steady ray

Attract the heedless peasant's view...

...And fancy whispers in mine ear,

That those who once were here beloved,

To friendship and affection dear,

Now from this fleeting scene removed,

Repose, bright star, in thy ethereal sphere."

-- William B. Tappan, "To the North Star"

---

You sigh as you look at several outfits you laid out on your bed. It was Saturday and you spent much of your time getting the last few things unpacked before tonight. The former captain, the firefighters, and the sheriff decided to throw a party at the station for your uncle. Being his immediate family, you had to attend. Your eyes lingered on an outfit that would look nice but would also be comfortable and casual.

As you started getting ready, you began recalling the week you had at your new school. Like Emmett promised, he looked out for you in gym. Apparently, some of the students thought it would be funny to try and target the new kid in the various games the teacher had the class do. Emmett stayed by your side, helping catch dodgeballs or watching your back for 'stray' balls from volleyball. He was easy to get along with. You appreciated that he was more laid back and seemed to always have a smile on his face.

You met Jasper in history. You sat next to him with Alice on his other side. He was tense and looked like he was in pain. You wanted to express concern for him, but recognized through your own experiences dealing with chronic pain from your accident that it can be annoying to have people ask if you're alright. So, you gave him a smile and as the week came on you two were friendly. Alice helped with that of course.

Alice was already treating you as if you both had known each other for years. It was overwhelming at first, but you found that her bright smile and eagerness to talk with you endearing. She has already offered to take out for a shopping and lunch day several times, which you may take her up on next weekend if she were to ask again. You appreciated her friendliness.

You met Rosalie during lunch and met her a second time by your locker; hers and Emmett's were next to yours. Edward had managed to convince you to sit with them the next day after your first. She absolutely, drop dead gorgeous and you couldn't help but stare. You remembered the tense glare she gave you when you sat with them and you almost wanted to bolt out of the cafeteria. Her face softened though when Emmett whispered something in her ear and place a quick peck on her cheek. Still, she almost kept her distance from you and made very minimal steps in engaging in conversation.

The Cullen children were nice. You would be a fool if you couldn't tell there was something amiss with them. They all had matching eyes gold eyes though you noticed by the end of Thursday a few of them had nearly pitch black eyes. There were also times when Alice would stare off to space or Edward would laugh under his breath at nothing. You remember one day you brushed your hand against Edward's as you both reached for his fallen pencil, and you noticed how cold his skin was.

But, despite the discrepancies you've picked up, you liked them. They actually sought to engage in conversation with you since they could under stand sign. Their eyes never lingered or blatantly stared at the raised scars on your neck, not even when you first met them.

That's not to say everyone else ignored you. You had some students talk to you with the help of Edward or any of the other Cullens that lingered around you, but, you could tell quite a few were hesitant in speaking with you. You could feel their curious eyes stay on your neck until yours met theirs. You were used to that from your old school, though at least most of the people here were polite.

There have been a few mean comments and some weird rumors spread about you already. Most of them revolved around you being with Edward for most of the school day. You only heard their directed comments towards you in the morning before first period, when you weren't with a Cullen. You paid it no attention. Some remarks hurt, but as long as they didn't outright say it to your face or harm you, you let their remarks roll off your back.

You applied finishing touches to your look for tonight's party as you concluded your recount of your week at Forks High. You looked in your full body mirror, smoothing our creases in the fabric before approving of what you picked out for yourself. You wondered how the party was going to go. Your uncle, Robert, and your aunt, Phoebe, were bound to go off and converse with others.

Were you to just follow them around or would you stay in a corner until the night was over?

You close your eyes and sigh deeply.

You heard your aunt call your name downstairs.

"It's almost time to go, honey!" She yelled. You open your eyes and give yourself one last glance over in the mirror. You put on a tense smile before leaving your room, heading downstairs.

"You look great." Phoebe smiled, bringing you into a tight hug. You look at her and gave her a thumbs up. She looked good too, her dress fitting her nicely and her makeup was minimal but still beautiful.

When you first started living with her and your uncle it was almost too much. Phoebe looked so much like your mother, her sister. It took a few months to not see your mother in her, but thankfully your brain, despite the trauma you experienced, started registering her as Phoebe. You two have been close since.

"You look good too. That dress is always a good choice." You sign, smiling at her.

"I'm glad you told me to hold onto it. I can't believe I considered getting rid of it when we packed." She laughed and did a small twirl.

You heard a wolf whistle and look over to the stairs at your uncle, who had a cheeky grin as he stared at his wife.

"You look stunning." He winked to your aunt. He then looked at you with a smile. "You look great too. I like what you did with your hair."

"Wow, you actually know how to dress up, Rob." You chuckle, teasing him. Robert was a big believer in comfort and practicality over looking nice so it was rare to see him in something stylish like this.

"Oh ha ha." He said dryly but kept a smile. He glanced down at his watch and his eyes widened. "Shoot, we got to get going. I don't want to be late to a party thrown for me."

---

There were a lot more people at the fire station than you were anticipating. You expected the crew and their families and the sheriff maybe, but this was a lot more than that. Forks is a small place, maybe this was a rare event here. Regardless, you were glad to see many welcome your uncle to Forks and to the station.

It had been about fifteen minutes since you and your family arrived. You had met all the other firefighters and their families; met Sheriff Charlie Swan and his daughter Bella, who you recognized from your history class; and met various of other Forks citizens who came to meet the new captain. A few familiar faces from school floated around at the station too, though you only met three that were children to the other firefighters.

You glance to the large clock on the wall and glanced to your uncle, who was with the former captain. They were getting ready to go to where a microphone was placed in the station for a welcoming speech in about 10 minutes. You were standing idly by you aunt as she conversed with a few of the wives of other firefighters. Even if you could comfortably speak, you wouldn't know what to even talk about with these women. Your aunt discussed her career as a nurse while the others talked about their jobs.

You heard your name being said behind you by an all too familiar voice. Your face brightened with a small smile when you saw Edward. Next to him was a man and woman you've never seen but could tell they were also Cullens by their golden eyes.

"I didn't expect you here." You walked up to him, then glanced at the two with him.

"My father is the chief physician in Forks so he was invited." Edward gestured to the blond man.

"Hello, I'm Carlise." He offered his hand.

"And I am Esme, Edward's mother." She also offered her hand. You shook both, noting how cold their skin was. "Alice is around here somewhere, probably talking with Bella."

"Nice to meet you both."

"It's nice to meet you too, Edward here has talked a lot about you." Esme grinned, a teasing look in her eyes. You saw Edward give her a embarrassed look which made you silently laugh.

"Ah, the man of the hour." Carlisle grinned and step forwards. You jump a little when you see your uncle's arm from your side. You didn't even hear him approach with your aunt in tow.

"You must be Dr. Cullen." Your uncle grinned. Immediately your aunt and uncle and Edward's parents fell into an easy conversation, leaving just you and Edward.

"Are you having fun?" The bronze haired male asked.

"It is nice. I've mostly been following them around." You gesture to your guardians. "I am curious about the refreshment table though, so I may head over there."

"Would you mind some company?" Edward tilted his head slightly, his lips upturned into a small smile. You give him a nod and start making your way over to the food, he followed close behind.

One thing you picked up is the Cullens drew attention no matter what. You can see people's eyes linger on you and Edward. You noticed their stares when you met his parents. And if you could find Alice, you were sure people's gazes would linger. You got used to it in school, but it seemed more awkward when it appeared many people outside of Forks High had their focus on them.

"Everything alright?" Edward's voice was soft as he spoke.

"Yep." You give him a tense smile as you reached the table, looking over the contents.

'I just wish people here didn't have staring problems. Who cares if they look good?' You thought as you grabbed a small plate and started picking up things you liked. You swore you heard Edward chuckle next to you. You look back to him and gesture to the spread as if you were asking if he was going to eat.

He held up a hand and shook his head. "We ate before we came here."

You nodded and quickly ate what you picked out.

Right as you finished your last bite, you heard tapping through the speaker. Looking over to where they set up a microphone you saw your uncle and the former captain of the station. You throw away your plate and keep your spot next to Edward.

"Thank you everyone for coming!" Theodore, the former captain, greeted. Everyone clapped and a few people let out loud 'whoops.' "We are here today to welcome Robert Kennard to the station, our new fire captain."

Your uncle waved and smiled.

"Forks welcomes you warmly, despite the constant cold weather." Many in the crowd softly chuckles at Theodore's words. "And I can speak for the crew in that everyone looks forward to working with you." The former captain steps back from the microphone, letting your uncle step up.

"Hello! Thank you guys for putting this on." He laughed and raised a glass of what you assumed was champagne. "I was concerned at first. When I got offered the position while I was still down in California, I was worried about moving my family up here... starting a new life. However, their support has been unwavering and here we are now."

You heard him call your aunt's name and your name. You froze.

You could see your aunt make her way up to him but you were hesitant. It wasn't that you didn't want to support him, but you weren't sure why a sudden rush of anxiety hit you. You take a step forward but pause.

"Are you alright?" Edward asked softly, his thick brows furrowed as he leaned forward, maintaining eye contact.

You purse your lips and give him a subtle shake of your head. You saw him look confused for a split moment before his facial expression went back to concerned.

"Would you like me to walk forward with you?" You nod at his suggested. He nodded slowly with a small smile and placed a hand between your shoulder blades. Gently, he pushed you forward and guided you to the front. His form stayed next to yours as you moved through the people to get to the front of the small crowd.

When you got close enough to your uncle, you felt Edward's hand leave your back as you kept walking forward. You glance back over your shoulder and saw him waiting at the front, his golden honey eyes never left your form. You flanked your uncle on his right while Phoebe stood at his left.

"To my lovely wife Phoebe, thank you for encouraging me to take this step in my career. Your support has me falling in love with you every second." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. People in the crowd aww'd. "And to you," He looked to you with a smile full of fondness. "Your support towards mine and your aunt's careers has been so appreciative. Raising you as if you were my own has been such a treasure, thank you." He then hugged you tightly before turning to the crowd. "Thank you guys for having us here."

The people attending clapped and cheered. You smiled at how warm the welcoming was, though that feeling of anxiety still lingered. The three of you stepped away from the microphone as the former captain came up to give a final few words. You glanced around for either Edward or Alice, but saw them both in conversation with Carlisle and Esme.

You take a deep breath and excuse yourself from your family. You weave through bodies and made your way outside. The cold air immediately nipped at your face as you wrapped your arms around yourself. You walk over and lean against your uncles pick-up truck.

You look up to the night sky and smile. It seems like the constant cloud cover pulled back enough for you to see the stars and moon. You felt giddy at just how bright the stars looked. You felt at ease now. You felt comforted under the night sky.

'Ah Polaris, my old friend.' You sigh contently when you found that bright star shining brightly in the inky black sky.

"Are you okay?" Edward's voice startled you. You jumped a bit and looked back at him with wide eyes, your heart felt like it was racing wildly in your chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"No worries, I assumed nobody would come outside." You offer a friendly smile, keeping your eyes on him as you felt yourself begin to ease.

"Parties aren't... my thing." He joined you, leaning against the truck. "Carlisle asked me to come along."

"I'm not big on parties like this either. I like smaller get togethers."

There was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again, repeating his previous question. "Are you okay?"

You exhale, your breath visible in the air.  "Yes. Just felt overwhelmed and wanted space."

"Ah. I can leave then."

"You can stay. I know you after all."

---

Edward smiled sincerely when you told him he could stay. Even though Alice and Esme did point out you left out and made comments for him to follow you, he chose to join you on his own. He wanted a moment of peace away from the other humans... and he wanted to explore your mind more.

He tried peering into your thoughts again as a comfortable silence washed over the both of you. Ever since you sat next to him on your first day at Forks High, he attempt to discern your mind. He was still confused at the presence of such a detailed cosmos that lies in your thoughts and how it wasn't always there.

Edward noticed he could always hear your thoughts when you communicated with him or others. However, outside of that he never was sure if he would be hearing your voice or viewing that space. He picked up you weren't aware of this. Nothing you ever did or said gave him any reason to suspect you were purposely putting up this galaxy to block him out. He also kept track at how the galaxy would coincide with your emotions. When you were stressed about going up to your uncle earlier, he could almost feel heat against his mind. He could see how bright the sun residing in the middle had gotten until he was pushed out, which was another thing he noticed.

It was like the galaxy was trying to keep him at arms length from you; always forcing him away from peering too deep into your mind.

Edward shifted his eyes to looking at the sky like you were doing, but his focus was purely on your thoughts. He saw the familiar galaxy once again and this time, it was the most serene he has ever seen it. The sun at the center, still bright, was calm. He didn't feel heat pushing him out. He just saw stars, planets, and various colors around. It was peaceful. Compared to the many thoughts from the party goers back in the fire station, this was nice.

Edward felt welcomed in this vast cosmos.

The scene melted away rather than push him out, causing him to look at you. You were now staring at him with an unreadable gaze.

"Do you know any constellations?" You asked him. It didn't take reading your thoughts to know how excited you were at the prospect of discussing this with him.

"No, I don't." He lied. In the 1970s he spent some time studying the stars. "But I take it you do? Can you tell me?"

"Sure!" He could barely contain the large grin threatening to form on his face at how excited you were.

He could hear your thoughts in tandem as you signed. You would tell him the constellation name and then point it out in the sky. You'd lean close to him, your arm barely brushing against his, as the the other raised up to the sky. He'd subconsciously lean in as well, easily finding said constellation on his own but he let you help him 'find' it. You hadn't mentioned to him before how much you adored stars, but it came to no surprise to him after seeing what goes on in your mind.

Showing him constellations came to an end when neither could see more through the lingering clouds. That didn't stop you from pointing out the brightest star in the black sky.

"The North Star represents guidance and direction." You explained to him. "For hundreds of years, it provided guidance to anyone who needed it in many ways."

'It helped after the accident.' Edward heard from your thoughts. It had him curious and he tried delving more but all he saw was space and felt heat keeping him at bay.

"You must really like stars." He smiled gently.

"Yes, I've been drawn to them since I was young. My dad was into anything space related, so I guess that's were it came from." You smiled, though the vampire could see a certain sadness lingering in your eyes. He then saw you shiver and immediately started shrugging off the coat he wore. "Wait, you'll get cold, Edward."

"Don't worry about me. I will be fine." He spoke softly, his lips upturned. He placed the coat over your shoulders and you gingerly slip your arms into the sleeves.

Confusion briefly flashed on your face. 'I expected some warmth. Ah well, this is still nice.'

Edward had to contain his chuckle at the thought that slipped through.

"Do you still want to stay out here for a few more minutes?" He asked.

"Yes, just a few more minutes."

---

It was near midnight when Edward slowly opened your bedroom window. He felt some guilt as he waited for you to finally fall asleep, but his interest in your mind hand him wondering what he would see when you were unconscious. Would that galaxy appear to him when you were asleep, or would he have full access to your dreams?

He easily slipped into your room, leaving the window open. His eyes scanned around at the various posters you had placed on the walls and the decorations lying around. He saw one half unpacked box in the corner then shifted his gaze to you, tucked under your covers in a deep slumber. There were a few plushies in bed with you and he couldn't contain a small smile when he saw one on the floor. Carefully and silently, he walked over and crouched down. He picked up the stuffed cat and leaned over, setting it aside next to the others. He found himself back near the window and zeroed in on your mind.

He saw a grassy field and a woman sitting on a blanket. He heard high pitched giggles from who he assumed was you as you ran around. It was clear he was seeing your memories. You were running, squealing, and giggling in what Edward could make out as a park. You glanced behind yourself as you ran and could see a man chase after you. He could make out the similarities in his face with your current face. Suddenly, you tumbled and hit the ground with an 'oof.' Your father immediately helped you up and sat you on his knee.

"Aww, poor baby. Are you okay?" He cooed.

"Yeah! My leg hurts, but I'm fine!" You giggled. Your father held your leg and your focus was now on your bloody knee.

"Hmm, you must of snagged it on a rock. Lets get you back to momma, my little nova." You were lifted up and Edward watched through your memories as you were brought to your mother on a picnic blanket.

Suddenly, he thrown into a new memory. He suddenly felt dread in his being.

It was dark.

He could hear what sounded like a car blinker non-stop clicking. You groggily blink and Edward started making out that you were upside down. He heard gargling and pained noises come from you. Your eyes barely focused but he started making out you were upside down in a car at night. He can see bright lights from the front and shards of glass. Then he sees all the blood and what looked like a severed arm on the ground. It was attatched to a feminine hand with a gold band on the ring finger.

"Sweetie? Oh God..." He sounded in pain and like he was crying. Edward then heard your name from your father. "Nova please answer me. Fuck, please."

You responded, but it wasn't a word. It sounded like you tried to say daddy, but it came our jumbled and wet.

"Nova-!"

Suddenly, all Edward could hear was a high pitched noise. It was the same he heard when Alice replayed her vision to him. A blinding light filled the car.

Then, it was that same galaxy. However, it was turbulent. He could see planets shake and stars dim. A sun, larger than ever glowed brightly before an eruption from the Sun's atmosphere blasts out and hits hum with intense heat. He stumbles back as his vision is back in your room, right as you woke up gasping for air.

Without you catching him, he was out of your room and in the forest. His eyes were blown wide and if he had to breath, he knew the wind would of been knocked out of him at all he viewed. He felt the sting of venom-tears fill his eyes.

"Fuck..." He muttered and sat down on the forest floor. His fingers carded his hair before he clutched tuffs.

---

Taglist: @buckybarnes-1917​, @trawberry-fire​ , @dreamy-caramel​, @urgirlfriendspage​

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x you #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen imagines #edward cullen imagine #twilight #twilight saga #twilight edward #twilight edward cullen #twilight x reader #twilight x you #twilight x y/n #twilight imagines #twilight imagine #silent cosmos

[lacedinweb22]

drunk and crushing (Miguel O’Hara x reader) (part 1)

🕸️ Entangled series 🕸️ ch. 2 prev part

Warnings - alcohol, house party, sexual references 

Summary: After your physics midterm, a group of classmates invite you and your friend, Miguel, to “a small party” they’d be throwing late at night. You both get drunk, and Miguel is especially protective and flirty with you; your feelings and crushes on each other are revealed as the night goes on.

FYI: Some words will be bunched together but that’s just me representing slurred drunken words. ALSO this will be in parts so get ready to be fucking edged. Sorry >:D I hope you enjoy &lt;;3 

I imagine this playing in the background of this part's party scenes so I HIGHLY recommend listening to this with headphones on while reading:

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

We walked out of class together, side by side. “Sooo, I mean, I’ll only go if you go,” he said, nudging my shoulder, smirking with that annoyingly perfect, pearly smile. “Hmmm, ‘a small party,’ she said, I don’t know, I don’t believe that… I hate large gatherings and… I don’t know half of the people that’ll be there,” I muttered, my eyes following the passing squirrels then glancing back up at Miguel. 

What was the point of going when I knew I would just have to witness every girl and their mother trying to suck this man off in the bathroom??? He’d be busy all night, away from me, why bother? I prefer our mini study dat– sessions. Study sessions. 

“Yeah… I know, but you’ll be with me, so you can just… you know, stick with me,” he suggested, shrugging and smiling down at me, his gaze stuck on me as we walked. I smiled, looking at our feet walking together. Stick with him. “Okay, fine, yes, let’s do it. I’ll feel better… that way.” “Okay, I’ll pick you up at 9 then?” 

Pick me up? Jesus, why are you like this? Stop being so fucking nice to me; it makes it so much harder to get over you. 

It’s fine. He’s just being a good best friend. Friend. We. Are. Just. Friends. He’s just being nice. 

“Yes, sounds perfect… thank you, Mig, can’t wait,” I said, giving him a thumbs up as I walked away from him. “Hey, where are you going?” he called out. “I’m going to go meet up with a friend, I’ll see you later tonight, M” I yelled back. “Okay… Y/N,” he muttered, his eyebrows softly scrunched with confusion, lifting his hand up to say goodbye. 

* * *

I wore my favorite vintage black strapless dress, and long knee high socks stuffed into my black mary janes. My waves trickled down my shoulders and collar bones. I feel so pretty. I wonder if Miguel will think the same. 

He texted me that he’d be here in five. I sat on the short garden wall outside of my apartment complex, waiting for Miguel. He was always early. Always. 

Sure enough, he pulled up, smiling and saluting me. “Present, Captain Y/N,” he said, as I walked towards the car door. Before I knew it, he was out of the car, about to open the door for me. As he approached the car door, his eyes scanned me up and down. “You look… really nice. Super beautiful.” I felt my face warm up. “Thank you, Mig,” I replied, shyly. I got in, he closed the door, then went to his side. He got in and began to drive. 

“And you. I love that moto jacket on you… and you smell nice,” I replied, leaning towards him, my face near his chest, sniffing him. “Hey, I always smell good,” “Yeah, you do, you do, but you know, it’s a party, I get it. Love, drugs, weed, pussy. I get it,” I replied, hands up. He laughed and rolled his eyes, his deep laugh so rich, music to my ears. He smelled so good. His jacket must be fucking drenched in his smell. I wanted to touch him so badly, to feel his snug t-shirt, his warm muscles against my fingertips. I just knew–“Y/N,” he dragged out. “Yes, sorry, what was the question?” I responded quickly. “You smell good too, and you look pretty, I mean you always look pretty, I mean I just… is there someone from our class you’re looking forward to seeing?” God, you have no idea. “Ummmm, no, nope, no. There isn’t. Is there… someone you–” “No, no. Just the drugs and the weed,” he replied, nodding. I scoffed. Sure. 

We pulled up to the house party. There were a million cars and what seemed like a million people inside and outside crowding around the front yard. Colorful lights glowed through the windows as people danced and trashed their red solo cups everywhere.  

We found parking, then walked towards the chaos. As we approached, Miguel grabbed my hand. I looked down at it then back up at him. “Stick with me, okay?” he urged, squeezing my hand twice. I nodded. His large, muscular hand wrapped around mine. He was so warm; his calloused palms rubbed softly against mine as we walked in. 

We pushed through the crowd to get to the kitchen. The speakers blasted music and sent vibrations across the floor and throughout my body. I clung onto Miguel as we pushed through the crowd. He towered over everyone, as the longing eyes of girls and the envious eyes of guys followed him.

We found Lizzie, our friend from physics, pouring shots for a few other classmates I recognized. “Miguel and Y/N,” she hummed out, teasingly.  “You two are so cute! I’m so glad you could both make it!” she exclaimed, winking at me. “Us too,” Miguel replied, squeezing my hand and bumping my shoulder. “Do you guys want some of… this?” she said smirking, holding up a bottle of tequila. Miguel looked down at me for approval. I shrugged. “I’ll do one if you do one,” I told him, smiling. He grinned down at me then nodded to Lizzie.  She grabbed a shot glass then a larger glass, 3x the size of mine. “He’s much bigger than you,” she said, shrugging, as she poured them out then slid one in front of each of us. “Fuck, what have we gotten ourselves into?” I asked, picking up the small glass and looking up at Miguel. He raised his glass up to mine and tapped it, “I guess we’ll have to find out,” he said, smirking.

Our eyes met as we both brought the shot glasses to our lips, never breaking eye contact. We downed the shots. Miguel took it extremely, scarily well, as I gasped and hovered over the counter processing the burn. I felt the warmth spread down into my chest. “Mmm that was so yummy,” I moaned. Miguel patted my back and laughed, “Let me get you a soda or something, wait Y/N, have you eaten?” I kept my head down and breathed out, “I saw Dr. Peppers back there, please, God, and yeah… umm I had mac & cheese earlier.” He patted my back then walked away. 

“You need a drink?” I turned around to see a guy I knew from physics holding out a plastic cup to me. “Oh, no I’m good, thank you, Miguel should be bringing me something right about now,” I responded, peering behind him. Where is he? It was just righ– “I don’t see him,” he responded smugly, shrugging. I awkwardly laughed. He was cute, but he wasn’t… him. His eyes were glued to my lips. “Ha, ummm, yeah well, so… how do you feel about the midterm?” I asked, trying to ignore the tension. 

Lizzie brushed by me, handing me a new shot glass, raising her eyebrows. I didn’t feel the first one in the slightest, so I obliged. I downed the shot, breathed out, caught my breath, and looked back at Jack. 

“It was fine. Anyways, Y/N, I see you every lecture, and I’ve always wanted to, you know, talk to you, but you’ve– I mean shit, you got him following you around like a lost puppy–” “Hey, what? Where is this coming from? Miguel’s my friend, he’s my best friend, how is he like a lost puppy?” I argued, offended. “I mean everyone sees how he looks at you,” he replied, confused, like I was the one missing something. “Everyone? What do they see or… think? What do you mea–” “Do you not–? You’re not together? You haven’t…?” he asked, bewildered. “Nope, just friends,” I sighed, grabbing a can off of the counter and chugging. “But hey, thanks for the reminder,” I breathed out before chugging more of whatever this bitter shit was. I need to forget that Miguel doesn’t want me, that he could never think of me the way I think of him. 

Jack smiled, and leaned on the counter closer to me, his elbow getting closer and closer to my chest. I looked down at his elbow then up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “You’re close,” I asserted. “You look beautiful tonight, truly. You know what? We should go take a quick hit outside,” he smirked, holding up a joint. “Nah, I’m good, It’s niceandwarm in here and Miguel shouldbecomingtosaveme any minutenow,” I shook my head no, realizing how heavy my head felt. Fuck, this beer can feels a little heavy. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered, getting closer to my face. “We should go get brunch sometime,” he added. Brunch? “That’svery kind but I’m good. DamnIsaid Iwasgood like fifty times. I’m waiting forMiguelllll, my best friend, my buddy, so don’t worry about me! Go check out someone else who’s lonely, I’m not lonely.” “You look lonely,” he reasoned. “Hey, you fucki–” I stopped as I noticed his eyes grow fearful as his gaze looked up above my head. “What are youlookingat, weirdo?” I asked, sharply, reaching my fingertips to my hair. 

“Hey, Miguel,” Jack breathed out, grinning fearfully. I looked up to see Miguel behind me peering down at Jack. I watched as he kept his eyes on Jack while lowering a Dr. Pepper into my hand. “Here, Y/N,” “Thank you, Miguel,” I mimicked, looking up at him then back at Jack. 

“I’m here. You can leave her alone now,” Miguel hissed at Jack. I like this side of him. Darkened eyes, heavy voice, angst. Gives me chills. “We were just talking about a fucking midterm,” Jack muttered as he walked away. “Yeah okay, pinche gringo,” he called out to him. I turned around and looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair slightly messier than when I saw him ten minutes ago. Where had he gone? Who was he with?

“Miguel,” I scolded, holding in my laugh. “What if he understandsSpanish, huh? They’re gonna kickyourass out,” I reasoned. “Nofighting here. This is a peacezone,” I said squeezing his forearm. He shrugged, “Ni modo.” I rolled my eyes then drank more from the can. “Hey, where’d you get that?” Miguel asked, grabbing it out of my hand, analyzing the label. He swiftly drank what was left of the beer then offered me the soda he brought. He lifted my other hand grasping the soda up to my lips, then bit the tab up, snapping the soda open inches away from my lips. “Drink this,” he muttered, through his teeth before spitting the soda tab onto the counter. “Haaaa I forgot about this!” I laughed out. “Yeah, yeah drink some,” he laughed, supporting my hand. 

I drank a good amount then pressed it to his lips. His soft pink lips wrapped around the can rim. His eyes stuck to mine as he sipped some. My cheeks burned.

He then grabbed my hand and led me to the upstairs living room. There were far less people and the music wasn’t as loud. A friend stopped Miguel by the mini bar, so I stood beside him as they talked. I subconsciously remained holding his hand, which he held firmly on his lap as he talked to his friend about school. Lizzie and a few of her friends came by again, handing Miguel and I shots. Miguel hesitated as he looked down at his glass, then looked back at me and my now empty shot glass. He stared at me with extreme concern, then continued talking to the guy who was bombarding him with questions about the midterm. 

He continued glancing at me, worriedly. “What are youlookingat?” I asked, pushing him with my body, “oops sorry I just meant to nudgeyou not push you, woah you’re so firm, I’ve never felt yourchestbefore geez you’re so strong, wait doyouthinkyou could lift me up? Try carrying me!” I blurted, laughing. A bit of pink creeped into his cheeks, as he smiled and put his hand on my fingers lingering on his chest. “Yeah, Y/N, you’ve had a little too much. No more, okay?” he urged, almost scolding me. “Damnnnn okay, MOMMMM!” I replied, rolling my eyes. He turned to his friend and excused himself, then stood up and turned to face me. He looked down at me, his eyes glaring, as I looked up at him, smiling fearfully. He wrapped his forearms around the back of my thighs, lifted me, and gently carried me over his shoulder, within one second. I was weightless to him. I laughed non stop, as he put me down slowly and rolled his eyes. “Wait couldyoulift me like, like wrappedaroundyou like you know…?” I asked, excited. Jesus, someone stop me.

He tilted his head, looking at me critically, then succumbed. He wrapped his hands on the back of my thighs then effortlessly lifted me up so we were chest to chest, heart to heart. His hands remained on the back of my thighs, my dress was now riding up, probably showing my underwear to the world. I was too drunk to care, and too focused on Miguel to care. 

My arms wrapped around his neck, as our faces were inches apart. We looked into each other’s eyes then down at each other’s lips. My heart is beating dangerously fast. Can he feel my heart racing? It felt like 10 minutes had passed us by, when in reality it had been mere seconds. He put me down slowly, as we held eye contact. I wasn’t laughing anymore. 

That sobered me up. I cleared my throat and tugged my dress down. His gaze was still glued onto me. His gaze felt different. Has he always looked at me like that? “Let’s go over there,” I suggested, as I pointed at a group of people playing beer pong on the balcony. I hated crowds, but I needed more sobering up; the alcohol was hitting me like a bus. He held my hand and followed me, as I led him through the crowd this time.

As we approached the balcony and made our way through the crowd, the music grew intensely loud. We now had to shout to hear each other. “‘SMALL PARTY’ MY ASS!” I shouted to Miguel. “I KNOW,” he laughed, “IT’S SO FUCKING LOUD. IT’S TOO MUCH” he shouted, over the music. “DO YOU WANNA LEAVE?” “NO, LET’S JUST GO TAKE A RESTROOM BREAK,” he yelled back, grabbing my hand and leading me to one of the bathrooms. 

to be continued…

next part (flashback) drunk and crushing pt.2

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman2099 #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara atsv #miguel o hara #spider verse #atsv x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara imagine #Youtube

[anisespice]

“ hate your boyfriend ” || tokyo rev. pt. 2

one

synopsis: " you can pick me or your little boy. "

pairing: college!toman x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, sexual themes, MDI. toxic!toman, cheater!reader (pumpkin eater!!), enabling behavior, mild violence, vague descriptions of sex (cause i’m lazy), vulgar language, corny marvel joke, dirty-talk, moral compass is a roulette wheel in this one lol and i think that’s it :P 

notes: did a little continuation of the first one before doing more characters lol i’m happy you guys liked the concept, lemme know who you’d like to see next :))) i don’t hate this one, but i don’t love it either (except maybe mikey’s) buuuut hope yall enjoy! <333

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @spacegirl05​

A week had passed since the whole kick-back fiasco, and MIKEY had gone awol. Aki was over the moon about it, for obvious reasons; as far as he was concerned, he scared him off. Besides, the less you hung around the delinquent, the better for both of you.

“That guy’s just a nuisance, babe. Good riddance.”

Little did he know, this was a regular occurrence. Mikey always did this—Disappeared for days on end, only to pop right back up like he never left. Whether it be due to gang related issues, or because he felt like it, this frustrating habit was one of the reasons you invited him that night, despite knowing he’d pick a fight with Aki. You had missed him…in more ways than one. You knew it was only a matter of time before he came back to you.

And in the wee hours of the night, not far after said boyfriend left your place, you received a lone message from the former blonde himself.

from : bad influence ♡ 11:03pm     “ omw. ”

Short, but effective. His timing was impeccable, how he always managed to text the second you were alone was beyond you, but it made your heart race all the same. It was wrong, you knew that, Aki deserved better than someone who snuck around. You didn’t mean for it to get this far, but that was a guilt you’d deal with later. Mikey was your drug of choice, and tonight you craved another fix.

to : bad influence ♡ 11:07pm       “ okay. but just for a little while. ”

Even if you tried to play coy, to salvage whatever weak moral you had left, it didn’t matter—The only one you were fooling tonight was Aki.

from : bad influence ♡ 11:08pm      “ mhm. sure, angel. ”

It was a wonder how you didn’t draw blood with how harshly you clawed at his shoulders, fighting between wanting him closer or wanting to push him away. Mikey didn’t mind, though. On the contrary, he encouraged you to leave marks. As tempted as he was to leave his own, he figured beating up your insides would suffice.

Knowing you’ll struggle to walk tomorrow was all the reward he needed.

“God—fuuck,” he slurred, after a particularly hard thrust made you arch off the bed, forcing him to sink deeper. He gazed down at you with an all too pleased grin as you begged him for more. How could he deny you when you sounded so desperate? “Taking me so well, angel…always so good f’me…”

“J-Jiro..! Ahplease!” You sobbed, your knees practically knocking upside your temples as he increased momentum. Mikey snickered, angling his hips to continue ramming the spot that made your eyes cross, moans reaching octaves you didn’t even know you could hit.

“Mm, been feening for this dick, huh? Yeah? Maybe we should call up that smug bastard, let ‘em see how such good friends we are, right [______]? Bet he was real proud thinkin’ he got me to fuck off…but we both know who you really belong to. Don’t we?”

He wasn’t sorry. That’s the short end of it.

The moment Takeru decided to act all big and bad, breaking stuff in a place where he paid no bills, it was in DRAKEN’s right to set him straight; mama may not have raised him, but he still ain’t no bitch.

It took some coaxing on your end, but you were able to reel Draken back from turning your boyfriend inside out. But, after he forced him to pick up every broken piece of the lamp, he told Takeru to choose a number between one and ten.

“…Why?” Was his response. Draken raised a brow.

“That’s how many shards I’m gonna shove up your nose.”

“Ken!”

The look on the shorter male’s face was worth it, earning a threatening smirk from the mechanic as he slapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Ahh, y’look like you were about to shit yourself, man! Nah, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

For a moment, there’s relief in your boyfriend’s eyes. It was short-lived, of course. Especially once Draken’s grip tightened around his shoulder. “But I will. Don’t ever let me catch you pop off on [_____] like that again. Would hate for you to have to pick yourself up off the floor next time. You feel me?”

With a gulp, he gave a shaky nod; now he really looked like he shat himself. “Y-Yes…”

“Hah? Yes, what?”

“Y-Yes, Draken, sir?”

He rewarded the poor sucker’s obedience with a couple taps to the cheek just to spite him before sending him on his way. It was met with little protest, Takeru scurrying out of the room with lamp pieces still in his palms, not even sparing you a passing glance. 

“Text you later?” You called at his retreating form. When all you got was the sound of your front door slamming shut in response, you swiftly turned on your heel to aim a dejected frown at your other houseguest. Draken sardonically pouted back at you, reaching over to pinch your cheek until you swatted his hand away. “Why’d you do that, you totally freaked him out!” 

He wasn’t sorry. Draken shrugged. “Good.” 

Merely rolling your eyes, you headed for the small broom and dustpan in your closet to gather what little pieces Takeru left behind–Might as well busy yourself to delay addressing the elephant still in the room. Unfortunately, said elephant wasn’t about to let that happen. Before you could even think of sweeping anything, Draken gently grabbed your elbow, those same eyes that stared death into your boyfriend’s soul now filled with something else as they appraised you, melting through whatever cold exterior you tried to aim at him.

He leaned down closer, sporting a slanted grin that sent signals straight down to your core. Sometimes, you despised how easily he made your insides flutter by just existing.

“How much longer y’gonna entertain that fucking loser, huh? He wouldn’t know the first thing about handling someone like you.”

You hummed, fighting the giddy tremble in your body at the challenging air that surrounded you both. With the inkling of boldness you had, you took the bait. “What, like you would?”

He wasn’t sorry; you’d be though.

The way Draken split you in half would make Lucifer himself bite the pillow. Hovering over his gigantic frame, chest bare with your hands perched on each pec, he manhandled you to take every unforgiving inch of his dick, having you feeling downright discombobulated as your hips struggled to keep momentum.

Forget about seeing stars, at some point, you were certain you saw into the quantum realm; say hi to Ant-Man for me.

“K-Kenny...I can’t...t’s too much!” 

He cooed up at you, though there wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his tone. If anything, Draken enjoyed himself thoroughly, tongue-in-cheek as he watched you fall apart in his lap, just like he knew you would. With the way you tightened up around him like a vice, as if your own body was against the thought of him stopping, the former blonde chuckled breathlessly.

“Use the safe word then, doll.”

You glared down at him, to the best of your ability. With him practically jabbing you in the lung, it was more than difficult to say the rebuttal as smartly as you wanted to. “Y-you think…you’re so-oh! So f-funny…”

He did. Absolutely he did. By making your boyfriend’s name the safe word, nothing would soften his dick quicker. Plus, he knew you didn’t need it; just like you didn’t need Takeru.

“What? It’d be the only way you’d ever scream it anyways.”

“Welcome back.”

You paused mid-step upon entering your apartment, not expecting the ravenette to still be there. With a deep exhale, you paid him no mind as you kicked off your shoes, irritated after a tiresome process of checking your boyfriend into the hospital.

To say BAJI did a number on him would be an understatement…Man’s fucked him up. Sure, maybe Makoto could’ve watched his tone when talking to someone with such a short fuse, but Baji could’ve at least exercised a little restraint.

…Oh, who were you kidding? It’s Baji.

“What, ya not talkin’ to me?” Barely sparing him a glance, you set your bag on the coffee table before heading for the bedroom for a much-needed shower. Baji didn’t take kindly to being ignored. He huffed, standing to meet you halfway as he trailed behind you. Even when you attempted to close the door in his face, he shouldered his way in anyway; it was gonna take more than that to deter him.

“Quit being mad…said I was sorry, damn.”

“No you didn’t,” you replied, incredulously. You really tried it with the silent treatment, but knowing him, it was only a matter of seconds before he'd get you talking again. Taking off the sweats you threw on in haste earlier, you continued. “You said, and I quote, ‘Talk shit, get hit,’ then fell asleep on the couch while I had to haul Makoto to the emergency room!”

Baji shuffled his feet, “…Well, I meant to say it. Jus' forgot.”

You scoffed, walking into your bathroom. "What are you even still doing here? Don't you have someone else's day to shit on?”

“Y’kicking me out now?” He teased, raising a brow. What he didn't expect was for you to start throwing your toiletries at him. Although his reflexes saved him for the most part, Baji still got hit a few times as he attempted to dodge between a shampoo bottle and mouthwash. "Whoa! Hey-!"

“Maybe I should! Do you have any idea how hard it was to get him in and out of my car with all that dead weight, let alone into the building? Not to mention, his emergency contacts were his uppity-ass parents, so after they chewed me out, I had to lie and say he saved me from getting mugged.”

“...They buy it?”

You tilted your head, exasperated. "Wow. And here I thought the next thing out of your mouth would be that apology you 'forgot' to say earlier…[Sigh] Whatever. You just better hope when Makoto wakes up he doesn't remember anything, or else we're both in deep shit."

“Tsk. The fuck’s he gonna do?”

“He could literally sue us.” You deadpanned.

“He’s a pussy, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try me again. And if he gives you any shit for it, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, you mean like how you did today? Pass.”

He groaned, “I said sorry!”

“No you didn’t! And still haven’t!”

At the moment, it felt like the conversation would just continue in circles. With Baji stubbornly claiming he was in the right, and you combating his warped logic with colorful language and more stuff thrown at him, it's a wonder how things ended up here–With your face pressed against the cold shower wall as he gave you his fucking apology.

Over, and over, and over again.

While one hand wrapped around the column of your throat, fingers shoved knuckle-deep into your mouth to pacify the excessive whines tumbling out, the other made use of gripping the meat of your thigh, giving you no chance of running from the punishing thwap of his hips ramming against your wet ass-cheeks. The water cascading over your bodies had long turned cold as Baji chased after orgasm number five, his muscles ached from the strain, but he'd be damned to stop until he was certain all was forgiven.

Even if it meant missing every single one of Makoto's phone calls.

“God, I am so, so sorry, Takashi. Can’t believe he just…I-I’ve never seen him act like that before. Does it hurt?”

MITSUYA, despite the sting in his split lip, gave you an easy grin. “Nah, y’know I’ve been through worse. Fucker hits like one of my younger sisters.”

You had brought him back to your place to ice the bruise forming on his jaw, still frazzled over what occurred in the last half hour. Back at the restaurant, everything seemed fine when you excused yourself to the bathroom, having a blast knowing that your two favorite people were actually getting along. Unbeknownst to you, there was a storm brewing in Hajime. And the second you were out of sight, he used this opportunity to set a record straight with Mitsuya.  

Evidently, he allowed his fists to do the talking. 

You groaned, rubbing down your face in distress. “We’ll probably never get to set foot in that restaurant again...’m so embarrassed.”

“Hey,” he softly reprimanded, “Don’t sweat it, t’s not your fault-”

“I’m the one who begged you to let him come with us in the first place. I mean, I know you two butt heads from time to time, but I didn’t think it’d ever turn that serious. Please, Taka, just tell me what happened.”

Mitsuya shook his head, about to lower the ice pack until you shot him a pointed look. With a small exhale through his nose, he kept it on his jaw while he spoke. “I told you, he was probably pissed he couldn’t get a free meal outta me-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Haji wouldn’t explode like that over a fucking chicken sandwich.” You huffed, frustrated at his evasive behavior. He was holding back information on purpose, you were certain. Ever since the fitting, he'd been acting weird all evening. And that fight only solidified your suspicions. “Just tell me what started it!” 

"Doesn’t matter."

"Taka-"

"Let it go, [______]." He laid back on your couch and made himself comfortable, even so much as turning on your tv to fill over the dead conversation. Mitsuya trained his eyes on the lit-up screen, still icing his jaw as he subtly avoided eye contact.

You could just scream.

Childishly, you snatched the remote from his hand and switched it back off. The lavender haired threw his head back in defeat, the hand holding the ice pack slowly coming down as Mitsuya eyed you from his peripheral; so stubborn.

“Be honest. It was about me again, wasn’t it?” His silence spoke volumes. “So it was then. Ugh, okay listen, I get that you’re both really protective of me, I do, but that doesn’t excuse-”

“I’m in love with you.”

You choked. Though, only on your words.

With that now hanging up in the air, you gaped like a damn goldfish, the remote slipping out your grasp and clambering to the floor with a clack. Mitsuya exhaled; no turning back now. “You…huh?”

“Yep. Have been for a while, actually.” He placed his arms behind the couch, wry smirk on his face. “Planned to tell you over dinner tonight, but that backfired fast, no thanks to that walking steroid you call a boyfriend.”

“Y-…You’re messing with me. Right?” The designer offered a humorless laugh, gesturing to his split lip and bruised jaw.

“Didn’t get hit for saying what a great pal you were, [______].”

Now it was your turn to be silent. A lump began to form in your throat, overwhelmed with the newfound information, borderline confession.

“So then…what did you say to Haji to make him so angry?”

For a split second, you saw a glint within his pools of amethyst as they slowly rendered to a deep violet. Staring at you from beneath his pretty lashes, Mitsuya resembled that of a starved animal on the verge of cornering its prey, causing a sudden warmth to envelop you as you squirmed under his heady gaze.

Sitting up a little, he merely beckoned you to his empty lap. You blinked widely at him, sputtering as you tried to protest the idea. But, what he said next played into your curiosity.

“C’mere, and I’ll show you.”

You blinked at him, uncertain; he made no move to rush you. If you were against the idea, you were more than welcome to decline and tell him to shove it. However, when you eventually crawled into the awaiting throne, settling all your weight on top of him to the point he couldn’t keep from groaning shamelessly, Mitsuya was fucking elated.

You gripped his shirt at the shoulders, sporting that signature pout you’d do whenever you wanted something from him—The designer was more than ready to give it to you. All you had to do was say so.

“Hajime’s gonna kill you if he finds out, though. Don’t want you getting hurt again because of me…”

Mitsuya chuckled, hands slowly rubbing up your thighs until they settled on your hips. “Don’t worry about it, sweet thing. He may have gotten two hits on me today, but all I need is one tomorrow.”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved.   likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

#🍁wasabi #COME GET YOUR FOOD #tokyorev #tokyo revengers #tokyorev smut #tr smut #tokyorev scenarios #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #mikey #baji #mitsuya #draken

[partially-controlled-chaos]

New Life Shall Prosper, ch 4 (End)

Pairing: Halsin x Reader (as gender neutral as possible, given the context)

Rating: T? (not really smut, but there are some little spicy moments later on)

Warnings: Little spicy moments, but nothing extreme. Pregnancy complications, birthing process that isn't graphic, so much dialogue

Summary: Months after the fall of the Absolute, you and Halsin have carved a happy life for yourselves within Thaniel's Realm, making a safe haven for all. A life full of hope and prosperity, only enhanced once you discover the very real possibility that you are with child.

Word Count: 6.7K

an: Finally managed to get this chapter and story wrapped up. It's certainly been one of my favorites to write and I'll miss working on it! I have more Halsin stuff in the works coming up relatively soon along with some other fics focused on different characters. You can find the next piece of Halsin work here. Thank you so, so much to everyone that has left comments, likes, and reblog on this story!

Follow up to this post.

Read on AO3 here if you prefer!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Masterlist

Gentle rays of moonlight trickled in through the large window of your common room, illuminating your path just enough so you avoided bumping into furniture as you paced the room, hoping walking and rocking would be enough to soothe the crying newborn in your arms. You yawned deeply as you turned at the end of the room, softly running your hand along the back of the baby as you held them close to your chest, shushing and soothing as you walked. You’d been trying for the better part of an hour to coax your little one back to sleep and failing abysmally. A quick change of clothes and a late night feeding had worked temporarily when the cries first jolted you from your own sleep, but had soon started again until you found yourself in your current predicament. You weren’t sure what would calm the child, but you hoped and prayed you would find the solution soon enough so you could return to your own sleep. 

Life with a newborn had certainly taken some getting accustomed to, but you and Halsin had both quickly adapted to the change. It was easiest to take turns in seeing to the baby when they cried late at night or early in the morning so you both could get as much sleep and rest as possible. Not that either of you minded, of course. Despite the annoyance that came with being awake in the middle of the night, you both secretly enjoyed spending alone time with your little one. Tonight, however, was different. You were desperate to return to sleep and it seemed that your beloved child was doing everything they could to keep you from your bed.

Your latest turn from your pacing was suddenly interrupted by an unmovable wall blocking your path, making you come to a stop. Halsin stood before you, ready to pull the crying child from your arms and take over so you could have a rest. He looked at you with a gentle smile, seeing the exhaustion on your face as he cupped your cheek. You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing momentarily as his thumb lightly traced over your cheekbone.

“May I?” He asked in a low voice; his hands gesturing to the infant still wailing in your grasp.

“Please do.” You said as you loosened your grip enough to allow Halsin’s hands to slip between yours and pick up the baby. It took a moment, but soon enough the child was lifted from your arms and quickly placed against Halsin’s broad chest.

“Go rest, my heart,” he whispered, “I can take it from here.” You mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ before standing on the tips of your toes to peck the druid on the cheek before retiring for the night.

As much as you would have preferred crawling into your bed, your legs and body were too tired to make the short walk to the bedchambers. Instead, you found yourself almost collapsing onto the couch, flopping onto the cushions with a deep sigh and closed eyes. You felt a pleasant warmth on your cheeks and you opened your eyes briefly to see that Halsin had taken the time to light the fireplace before taking the child from you. You rolled to your side, facing the fire as you curled into yourself for a rest. It wasn’t long before you felt a light blanket be draped over your body and another soft caress to your cheek by Halsin’s gentle hand.

It was still the middle of the night when your eyes reopened from your quick nap. You weren’t sure how long you had managed to close your eyes, but you knew it wasn’t as long as you had wanted. The cries from your child had mostly quieted down by now and in your exhaustion you managed to catch a glimpse of Halsin making his way to the fireplace with the infant still pressed to his chest.  Halsin eased his way into the rocking chair by the softly crackling fireplace, holding the fussy newborn close to his chest. Once he had settled, he shifted the baby to be cradled in the crook of his arm, gently patting their backside with his unoccupied hand. With one leg outstretched, he slowly began to rock the chair, easing the child into a peaceful lull as the cries and whimpers steadily began to soften. You smiled as you watched him rock and admire the small infant in his arms, the hazy glow of the fire reflecting off the swell of tears forming in Halsin’s eyes.

“Nature has created the most perfect of creations with you, my little one,” he whispered, “and has allowed me to cradle your perfection in my arms.” He planted a feather light kiss to their full cheeks as he continued to rock and soothe his beloved child.

From the moment the child was born, Halsin was smitten; shamelessly enthralled with every tiny movement and noise the baby offered. The love and adoration that settled in his eyes each time he gazed upon their angelic face warmed your heart and filled you with flutters. You always knew that Halsin would be a loving father, but to see it with your own eyes was an entirely different feeling. It was something real and tangible, but mostly it was something that made you love him even more. Halsin was gentle giant, holding the infant carefully and with a light touch, but you also knew he would rip though anything that posed a threat to this small child that had him utterly wrapped around their tiny finger. 

Halsin held the infant in front of him, cradling their head and body in his hands as he simply marveled at the gift that had been bestowed upon him. Like he frequently did with you, he pressed his forehead to theirs, closing his eyes and he eased his rocking, simply sitting in silence and stillness as he savored the moment. His smile was wide as he heard more grunts and mewls pass through the lips of the infant he cradled, his eyes opening again to watch them as they did so. Once he pulled away from the baby, he left a long, lingering kiss to the soft skin where his forehead was previously resting. 

Halsin shifted the baby a final time, placing them at the height of his chest before reclining back and resting his own head along the top of the chair with his eyes closed as the rocking resumed. You heard him hum a slow tune softly, something you can’t recall having ever heard from the druid, even during your travels. He continued his song while using his thumb to run small, slow circles along the back of the baby finally sleeping on his chest; the vibrations in his chest seemingly being the thing that finally made them rest. When his humming finally came to an end, Halsin opened his eyes and glanced to you, still expecting you to be asleep. You met each other with wide smiles and you noticed the faintest hint of a blush creep across the druid’s cheeks when he realized he’d been caught in a precious moment. 

“You’re supposed to be resting, my heart.” Halsin whispered to you as he continued to rock. You offered a quick nod as you rolled onto your back. With a deep sigh, you shifted a bit until you were comfortable again, eventually drifting back to sleep to the sound of Halsin picking up the tune once more.

You awoke a final time some time later to the feeling of Halsin’s arms hooking underneath your knees and behind your back, gently lifting you from your spot on the couch to presumably be transferred to bed. He must have already put the child back to bed and was now coming to retrieve you to do the same. You didn’t protest as he lifted you and simply let him care for you in the moment.

“What was the song?” You asked sleepily, your eyes still closed and limbs completely limp in Halsin’s embrace. 

“A parting gift from my mother,” he said as he carried you to the bedchamber, “I can’t say I remember the words all too well, but the tune will suffice for now.”

“It’s lovely.” Your dangling legs swayed gently as Halsin walked the short distance to your bedchambers, noting that he was stepping as quietly as possible to avoid waking that baby that had kept you both awake for some time now.

“I’ll teach it to you one day,” Halsin murmured as he lowered you onto the soft sheets of your bed, “but right now you should sleep. Silvanus knows our little one will be up again in a few hours with a hungry belly.” You simply hummed in response as you drifted on the edge of a peaceful slumber. You reached up and took Halsin by the arm when you felt his weight shift from the bed, lazily pulling him towards you.

“Stay,” you said, “you need rest too, love.” You knew all too well that Halsin had a tendency to overwork himself when he felt an obligation towards something and the last thing either of you needed was for him to have a burnout. And, more selfishly, you found that you slept better with him by your side. Those months he was away while you were still with child were filled with nothing but sleepless nights and a worried mind. You had started sleeping on his side of the bed in his absence just to catch any lingering traces of his scent in the sheets. 

Without another word, you felt the druid slip into bed beside you and you quickly melted into his embrace. Your face was pressed lightly against his chest with your arms folded between your bodies. Halsin slowly rubbed the length of your back with his hand, not quite ready to sleep himself, but was never one to turn down your request for an embrace. Your eyelids became heavy and your breathing began to slow as you finally drifted off to a much needed sleep. You knew that Halsin was right and that your sleeping baby would soon wake and you’d once again be called upon, but for now you simply indulged in a long rest.

**********************************************************************************************************

“Hello, my darlings.” You said with a smile as you quickly were overwhelmed with swarming children, all reaching up for a hug of some sort. You watched where you stepped, being careful not to slip on the wet grass and the mud leading to the pond. Halsin stood from where he was crouched by the water, a soft smile greeting you as you made your way over to him. You greeted the remaining children that had stayed by the druid, offering hugs of your own and gentle head pats.

“And hello to you, my love.” You said as you met Halsin with a kiss to the cheek, “What lesson is on the books for today?” Despite Halsin doing his best to simply allow the children of the land to enjoy nature and fill their days with play and laughter, he found himself obligated to teach the children about nature and how to respect the land. Or, in this case, learn new ways to pass the time.

“Skipping stones,” he said as he stood, “the best practices and tricks for finding the perfect stones, of course.”

“Of course,” you repeated, leaning forward to peek inside the bundle strapped to his chest, “and how has your little helper fared?” You pulled back the edge of the cloth, revealing a small, beaming face within the fabric. You grinned widely, leaning in again to place a kiss to the cheek of your child. 

“I do believe they napped the entire time,” Halsin said as he patted the backside of the child, “they’ll have to return for the next lesson.” 

Once your newborn had grown a bit and were a few months old, Halsin started taking them along with him on his day to day activities, already eager to show them the wonders nature had to offer. You often found him surrounded by the other children, eagerly listening to one of his stories or paying close attention to the lesson he offered for the day. But since he started bringing the baby with him, you always found the little one secured to his chest by being wrapped in a sling. Although, by now, they could stand on their own and had even started walking, making them almost too big to be carried around. You knew that soon enough you would no longer wander into the forest and see your child secured to your lover and the thought saddened you, but was quickly replaced by the thrill of know you’d eventually see them toddling behind their father with the utmost enthusiasm. 

You took your child from the sling around Halsin, ready to give him a break and also sneak in your own time for baby snuggles. You were greeted with a hug from a tiny set of arms and you eagerly accepted the affections. With his chest now free, the children saw their opportunity to stop the lesson for the day and switch to playing. It wasn’t long before you heard the numerous pleas for the bear, the children of the land always excited to roughhouse with a looming bear and even sneak in a ride or two in the process. Halsin willfully agreed, quickly transforming into the large cave bear you so greatly adored after erupting from a ball of light. 

While the bear played with the children, you expected to spend a few quiet moments with your not-so-little baby, but you couldn’t help but notice the wide eyed expression on your child’s face. Despite spending a large portion of his time as a bear, Halsin had never been in wild shape while in the presence of the child, for fear that such a large beast would frighten such a tiny baby. But now as the bear stood only a few meters away, there was nothing but awe and a bit of curiosity behind their eyes. It wasn’t long before they became fussy in your arms, their desire to inspect the bear further becoming obvious. It took considerable effort on your part to keep the child seated to prevent from them toddling into the group.

When the children dispersed for the afternoon, thoroughly tired from both learning and play, you approached Halsin before he could wild shape back into his usual elven form. Given the excitement shown by your little one, you decided that now would probably be a good time to introduce them to the large cave bear. You knelt to one knee, setting your child on the other as the bear approached, crouching himself to give the child a better reach. There was a brief moment of hesitation, but soon enough the child had lunged forward and had taken fistfuls of fur.

“Gently now, little one,” you said as you held the child in your arms, “gentle hands with the bear.” You had to coax their small hand to release the clump of fur they’d latched onto. You were thankful that even in bear form, Halsin had nothing but patience for the child. Halsin released a low grunt, something you could only attribute to being his best attempt at a chuckle. You were still kicking yourself for not learning how to communicate with beasts without the aid of a potion.

The bear let out a large huff, the puff of air coming from their nostrils blowing against the child’s face. They erupted in giggles, evidently enjoying the sensation. You laughed with the child, relief washing over you as you soon realized that they weren’t fearful of the looming size of their cave bear of a father, although you made a note to keep an eye on them as they got older. The last thing you wanted was your little one to become too comfortable with the wild creatures surrounding the forest and winding up petting the wrong bear. That could wait for the moment, however. 

Tiny hands returned to the snout of the bear once again, this time with a much gentler grasp. They ran their fingers through the coarse fur, lightly scratching at the skin underneath. You sat the child to the ground when they began to bounce in your lap, more than ready to be let free and play with their new-found bear. They stood on slightly wobbly legs, finding it difficult to find footing on the uneven ground, but eventually managed to stand unassisted. You watched as they stared at the bear with curiosity and adoration, smiling as they observed the bear. Halsin brought his snout to the child’s head, taking in their scent while also tickling them with the movement of a cold, wet nose.

“Papa.” Tiny words spoken from an even tinier person stopped you and the bear in your spots, utterly surprised at the first word spoken by your child.

“What did you say, little one?” You asked, still surprised they had spoken at all.

“Papa.” They repeated, their smiling beaming up at the equally surprised bear. Halsin nuzzled his forehead against the child, the sheer size of his head almost being enough to push them over, but you supported them with a hand to their back. Your little one nuzzled back, forehead running along any bit of fur they could find. You were beginning to wonder if the frequent forehead bumps you shared with Halsin were more elven in nature or more ursine. Either way, you adored them and it appeared that your child would be doing them frequently as well.

“I do believe we’ve found your new name, my love.” You said as the child continued to rub their head against the bear. You found ‘Papa’ to be quite the fitting name for Halsin. ‘Father’ seemed to be too formal and the adopted children of the land already claimed ‘Daddy Halsin’. Now you were curious as to what your child would end up calling you.

A splash in the pond behind the bear caught the attention of the child, who toddled to the side as easily as they could to see what caused the disturbance. Moments later, a fish jumped from under the water to snap at a passing bug, flipping in the air before splashing back into the cool water. Before you could put together what was happening, the little one darted for the water line, fascinated by the display in front of them.

Their escape for short lived, however. Your bear of a druid caught them before they could even step a tiny foot on the shore, latching his teeth onto the back of their tunic and hoisting them into the air as he stood. Once again, the child erupted in a series of giggles as they were suspended in the air, letting their legs swing freely. The cave bear gave a grunt before walking from the shore, still carrying the child in his jaws as he meandered towards the shade of a large oak for a nap.

**********************************************************************************************************

Your eyes opened to the sound of small, bare feet quickly running towards your bed chamber. Moments later, the door to the room opened just slightly, wide enough for your little one to sneak their way inside. The sun had not yet risen, although dawn was fast approaching, and as usual, your child had managed to wake before you or even Halsin. You heard the faintest of giggles and shuffling of feet the child made their way to the foot of the bed, not so elegantly wiggling their way under the blankets of the bed before hoisting themselves onto the plush mattress. You watched silently as the lump that was still giggling at your feet blindly worked their way up, bumping between Halsin’s legs and your own.

After a short while, your little one poked their head out from the covers, hair full of static and a beaming smile on their face. Initially, their gaze settled on their father, but seeing that the druid was sleeping heavily, they turned their attention to you. Without a bit of hesitation, your child practically fell into you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a muffled giggle. You wrapped your arms around their wiggling body, finally getting them to settle into your embrace.

“Good morning, little one.” You whispered before giving them a soft kiss to the cheek. You smoothed their hair back along their head, revealing their pretty little face and pointed ears to your view.

“Outside?” They whispered excitedly, their eyes beaming with anticipation. You chuckled to yourself as you tucked a lock of hair behind their ear.

“Soon, my little love. Once the sun is up.” You had never imagined that you could meet someone more enthusiastic about nature and being in the outside world, but that person was now nestled securely in your arms. You couldn’t recall a single day that had passed where you little one wasn’t jumping at the idea of being out in nature; much like their father. You missed the days when they were a newborn and were content to simply sleep against your chest most of the day, but you couldn’t deny that you loved seeing their excitement and enthusiasm for each new day.

The child settled down once again, playing with the tassels to your sleep shirt as they impatiently waited for the first trickles of sunlight to come into the room. You silently admired your little one as they twisted and pulled at the tassels, simply taking in their features as you held them against you. They had certainly taken after their father in more ways than one. When you looked into your child’s eyes, you saw Halsin. They shared the same eye color, but also had the same tenderness and adoration for others that you found captivating. The same shade of chestnut brown hair sprouted for their head and had grown long enough to even have braids similar to Halsin’s. And of course the points to their ears, which happened to be your favorite feature, even held the same shape of the druid. 

It wasn’t long before the sun began to crest the horizon and illuminate your bedchamber in a soft glow. Halsin stirred beside you, a sound similar to a growl coming from his chest as he shifted. The arm that was tucked underneath his head emerged, reaching across the bed to blindly search for you. You heard a small, excited gasp come from the child in your arms when they realized that not only was the sun up, but Halsin was close to finally waking up for the day. Without a moment of hesitation, they quickly crawled out of your arms and towards their father, trying to suppress giggles in the process.

“Papa,” the child whispered as they tapped tiny fingers against his face in an attempt to wake him fully, “Papa!” Halsin’s eyes opened after a few abrupt smacks to his face, blinking away the surprise before his eyes finally settled on the overly excited toddler that was kneeling before him. 

“Yes, my heart?” He asked groggily. Halsin placed a large hand on the side of their small head, leaning forward slightly to bump his forehead against theirs before return back to his pillow

“Outside? Please?” They begged, practically vibrating in place as they eagerly awaited permission.

“Of course, love.” With an excited squeal, you watched as you child stood to bounce in place for a moment before crawling over Halsin, who grunted after receiving a few solid steps to the ribs. You heard small feet land on the wooden floors with a thud before excitedly scampering back towards the door.  The fast paced footsteps of the child running from the bedchamber towards their own quickly quieted down and you were allowed a quiet moment with your lover. 

“Were you so eager as a child?” You asked as you propped yourself up on your elbow, reaching over to run your hands through Halsin’s hair to work out the evidence of sleep.

“It’s like looking in a mirror.” Halsin said as he placed his hand over yours, kissing your palm as your hand trailed down his cheek, “Although, they’re much more polite about it than I was. I almost gave my poor mother a heart attack one morning when she found that I’d climbed the tallest tree in the region without a way down.”

“I can imagine why.” You leaned forward as you spoke, indulging in a good morning kiss with your love before getting started for the day. Halsin smiled against your lips, always happy to feel your lips against his. It wasn’t long before you felt him deepen the kiss, his teeth nibbling against your bottom lip and pulling you towards him with a satisfied growl. The union was short lived, however, when you heard the pitter-patter of footsteps coming back towards your bedchamber.

“Outside, Papa! Outside!” Your little one stomped into the room once again, clearly unsatisfied at the fact that neither of you had gotten out of bed yet. There was an entire world to explore outside the confines of your small home, and your wild spirited child was determined to make the most of it.

“We’re coming, my heart,” Halsin said with a chuckle, “we’re coming.” The druid rolled to his opposite side and eventually out of the bed, allowing himself a quick stretch before scooping the impatient child into his arms to carry them. 

You followed suit, flinging the blanket from your legs and sitting up on the edge of your warm bed. You hesitated briefly, stopping to take a slow breath in and out as you bit down the bile sitting high in your throat. You had been ill late into the evening; the remaining burn from your wrenching still caught in your windpipe. By the time you were finally well enough to get up and joined with Halsin in the doorway, you noticed the all too familiar look of concern beginning to settle on Halsin’s face, deepening the frown lines on his forehead in the process. He gently tilted your chin to meet his gaze with the side of his forefinger, giving you a quick glance over.

“Just a bit of indigestion, my love. Nothing to worry about.” You reassured him with a soft kiss to the finger holding your chin and a gentle squeeze of the hand. As hard as you tried to unburden your dear druid, you knew he would always fret over the smallest signs of something wrong or ill about you and your shared child. Although you weren’t sure if it was just the natural healer in him or if it was his natural need to keep those closest to him safe; perhaps it was both.

While Halsin busied himself with dressing both himself and his high energy child for the day, you took a moment to prepare a basket, the idea of a picnic sounding wonderful. In a small wicker basket, you gathered a blanket and a bit of water along with Halsin’s whittling knife and a book on knitting for yourself. Food could be picked up as you passed the market, but you had your mind set on plucking fresh fruit from a particular tree in the section of forest you’d be traveling to. With your supplies secured neatly under the blanket, you slung the basket onto your arm as your small family emerged dressed for the day, minus a pair of shoes for the child eagerly waiting at the door.  

You walked hand in hand with Halsin as you strolled town, your little one bounding ahead of you only to stop on occasion and wait for you to catch up. The child bounced in their spot, impatiently awaiting the moment they could step into the forest, but knew better than to run too fear ahead. As you strolled, you couldn’t help but admire the home that was flourishing before you. What as once nothing but shadows ridden lands only a handful of years ago was now a brightly illuminated beacon of hope and sanctuary where nature flourished while still yielding to the needs of a small community; the balance Halsin had always dreamed of achieving had come to fruition. It filled you with a warm comfort that you could raise a child in a place that was not only safe and thriving, but to raise them with someone so full of love for the child that it was almost overwhelming. You and the child you shared were everything to Halsin.

It wasn’t long before you finally reached the edge of town that led to a familiar patch of forest. With a quick glance to you and Halsin for a sign of approval, your child waited along the threshold of the forest, a wide smile spread across their lips. Halsin gave a simple nod and before you knew it, the little one was bounding full force into the grass. You could hear the symphony of giggles of laughs bounce around you, causing you chest to flutter at the wondrous sound of happiness from your little one.

“I don’t think I could name a sweeter sound.” You said softly, leaning into Halsin’s embrace as you stopped to watch the toddler dart across the field with their arms outstretched.

“Well, I’m not so sure about that, my heart.” Halsin said as he released the grip on your hand and slid his arm along your side before settling along your hip. You shot him a quizzical look, your eyebrow raising slightly as you watched a sly grin creep across his lips, “You certainly make many sweet, beautiful sounds when we’re alone.” 

Just as you turn to playfully scold Halsin for the remark, your child jumped from behind a nearby tree, small teeth bared with an even smaller growl and hands raised with curled fingers to imitate claws. Given that they weren’t quite old enough to wild shape into a bear themselves and adored their father even more when he was transfigured into ursine form, you often found the little one imitating a bear as they played. Halsin released his grip on you and joined in on the game, mimicking the child’s stance with a hunched back and a smile that kept breaking the appearance of bared teeth. You watched as he ever so slowly stalked towards the cub, flexing his fingers to signal he was ready to pounce. 

Before Halsin could make the first move, the child darted off with a laugh, running as fast as their little legs could carry them as Halsin followed in pursuit. You happily watched as your love chased your cub through the grass and flowers of the forest, listening to the laughs and growls coming from them both. As they made their way across the field, too engrossed in their game to notice your absence, you took the time to slink away to collect the fruit you’d had your mind on for days now. With your basket still in hand, you wandered among the trees until you found one that was all too familiar. 

The plum tree you’d almost picked clean the night you discovered you were with child stood before you, its limbs heavy with new fruit ripe for the plucking. You bit your lip in anticipation as you swiftly hoisted yourself onto the lower branches, selecting the ripest of plums from their stems and placed them in your basket. You could practically feel your mouth watering as you picked supple fruits from the tree; a low growl settling in your stomach as you chose which ones to take and which ones to leave. Once you’d nearly filled the basket with your prize fruit, you made your way back down and rejoined your small family across the way.

By the time you’d returned, Halsin had finally caught the little one, scooping them up mid stride and lifted them high above his head. Giddy laughs erupted from the child as they were caught, their face flushed from exertion. He tossed the child into the air just a bit, catching them in a firm grasp and being rewarded with a louder laugh each time they landed in their father’s hands. After a few tosses, Halsin held them in his grasp, holding them with one arm as he used his free hand to swipe stray hair from their eyes. 

“What have you got there, my love?” Halsin asked as he eyed your now full basket of fruit.

“Breakfast.” You replied simply, holding your basket on your arm once again. 

You removed your blanket from your basket, being careful not to spill the dozens of plums you’d plucked from the tree, and spread it out at the base of a shady oak nearby. Sometime between being picked up by Halsin and you having the blanket fully spread out, your little one had fallen asleep in Halsin’s arms, their head resting on his shoulder. From rising early to running to their hearts content, they had managed to tire out rather quickly. You and Halsin took turns placing a soft kiss to their small cheeks before the druid placed them gently on the blanket, making sure they were resting in the coolness shade instead of the direct spot of the sun. 

It wasn’t long before you were both settled on the blanket, your backs resting along the tree you sat under, your child sleeping peacefully by your feet. You dug through the remaining contents of the basket you brought, handing Halsin his whittling materials and you grabbed your book. You also picked up one of the plums you’d picked earlier, giving it a long sniff before sinking your teeth into the plump flesh. You gave a satisfied sigh as you cracked the book open to the beginning. As you began reading, you kept yourself supplied with your freshly picked fruit, reaching into your basket for a new one with each plum you finished. Before long, you’d quickly amassed a pile of plum pits by your side.

“You’ve decided to give knitting another try, have you?” Halsin asked as you settled against him, your eyes fixed on the book in your hand. After the disastrous sweater you’d attempted to make when you were still with child, you were discouraged enough to not pick up your set of knitting needles again and had simply asked a few of the older women in town to make you a few outfits for your newborn. But that was a few years past now and you had a new desire to try your hand at it again.

“May as well,” you said as you turned the page, “after all, what kind of savior would I be if I let a ball of yard be my undoing.” Halsin chuckled at your response, always finding your stubbornness peeking through. He managed to obtain a few plums from your pile, finding you almost hesitant to relinquish your find.

You sat in silence as your child napped by your feet in the morning sun, simply enjoying each others company and the calmness to the morning. Halsin whittled away at a branch he had found at the base of the tree, turning the piece over and over between his fingers as he worked out just what to carve. 

A light breeze swept across the field, lazily rolling across the pages of your book and obstructing your view as they fluttered in the wind. You had just smoothed them back and found your place in the wording when you felt Halsin’s fingers lightly grip your jaw, turning your head until you could no longer see the pages of your book, your head tilted away and upwards with the side of your neck exposed to him. You had expected languid kisses or even a few bites, but instead you were met with his nose pressed in the small dip behind your earlobe. You giggled and squirmed against his grasp, the feeling of air leaving his nostrils tickled the sensitive skin of your neck as he took in your scent. 

“Something on your mind?” You asked between laughs, being mindful not to nudge your sleeping child awake with a stray leg kick.

“I caught your scent in the wind,” he said as he pulled away from your neck, keeping his touch on your jaw, “it’s harder to smell when not in ursine form, but it’s…” His voice trailed off when his eyes caught your expression.

“Yes, my love?” You asked with a playful smile as Halsin’s eyes darted between you, your book, and your basket of plums. It was evident he had something on his mind, he just wasn’t sure how to approach the subject. The faintest traces of a smirk toyed with the corner of his lip, his mind turning over and over at it worked with the information now in his hands.

“It’s nothing,” he said eventually, “although, I can’t help but notice that you’ve regained your taste for plums, my heart.” After having more than your fill of plums with your pregnancy, you had hardly touched the fruit since. You’d indulge in the occasional one here and there, but you certainly hadn’t eaten an entire basket full in quite some time. Although that had changed as of late; your desire for the sweet fruit growing more and more persistent as each day passed.

“It seems I have.” You said playfully as you closed your book, rolling your head to the side to meet his gaze, “It’s quite a peculiar craving, is it not?”

“Would you go so far as to say its…an insatiable craving?” Halsin ran his thumb softly against your lower lip, eagerly awaiting your response. You could faintly see his heart beating in his neck, the steady thrum picking up speed the longer he waited for an answer. He was certainly excited for whatever game you were playing.

“I believe that’s an excellent way to word it. Insatiable.” Halsin huffed a laugh, his lips finally curling into a smile as he pulled your chin closer towards him.

“What other little oddities have you been keeping from me then, my love?” Halsin captured your lips with his, kissing you deeply before speaking again, “I’m beginning to think it wasn’t merely a bit of indigestion this morning.” You smiled against his lips, thoroughly enthused that the pieces were beginning to click into place for him.

“I was wondering when you’d catch on.” You murmured softly, your words echoing what Halsin himself had told you the night you first discovered you were with child.

“By Silvanus’ beard,” Halsin said breathlessly, “are you really?” You simply nodded in response, your smile beaming wider. 

You had suspected that you were with child for quite some time now, given that you had almost all of the symptoms from your previous pregnancy begin to pop up in the past few weeks, but you had wanted to wait for the passing of the most recent lunar cycle to be sure. And as you had expected, the full moon had come and gone and was on the verge of returning once again and you had yet to start a bleeding cycle. So, without a bit of doubt, you were in the beginning stages of a second pregnancy.

“How long have you known?” Halsin asked as took the book from your hands, tossing it to the side and out of the way.

“I’ve suspected for some time,” you said quietly, “I wanted to wait for this most recent moon cycle to pass to be sure.”

“You truly are extraordinary, my heart.” Halsin pulled you into his embrace, your head resting on his shoulder.

Your little one stirred at your feet, groggily waking up with a stretch. With messy hair and eyes still half closed, they quickly crawled towards you both, snuggling between you and Halsin with their head resting in your lap and legs thrown over Halsin’s. It wasn’t long before they were asleep again, evidently just wanting to be part of the embrace of their parents. You smoothed their hair with a soft smile as you settled in against Halsin. His large arms were wrapped securely around you, holding you close as you felt one of his hands drift to your belly and the familiar touch of his forehead to yours. You sat there in a happy silence, entangled in one another, listening to the sounds of the forest and in the warmth of the sun. 

Tag List: @incrediblethirst @reignydeys @thoughts-of-bear @im-eating-rn @beardedladyqueen @simplysaying @emorylovescats @distelsterncat @cryingoverpixelsetc @knightofmight01 @seawingqueenconch @moonlightdruid

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin #daddy halsin #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #halsin x gender neutral reader #fanfic #fanfiction #halsin romance #halsin fluff #brainrot #halsin brainrot #pregnancy

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 7

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 18.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story* Relationship drama, family teasing, parental/societal demands, light discussion of politics, handful of sex jokes, Marcus is a menace. Summary: A gesture you weren't expecting, a memorable phone call, an admission at dinner, a surprise for a friend, and one more grand gesture that you definitely *did* plan. Notes: A gif from Sabrina feels extremely appropriate for this chapter, and this one is even the outfit inspo for Birdie at a certain point. You'll see it 🧡 (Outfit inspo, but not in any way indicating her body type. Wear the clothes you love!)

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

The next few days fly by, as working on the Cameron/Wiley wedding takes up all of your spare time. The only thing you've managed to do on your second day off is to comb through their contracts and get things straightened out with their florist — an agonizing series of phone conversations that nearly ended with you going down to the shop in person — but it is finally the end of the day. You're going to make yourself eat something reasonable, which is to say not the fast food you're craving, and you're going to take your yoga mat down to the studio in Old Town for puppy yoga. It's the single greatest way to relax and destress apart from the phone calls you've been having with Marcus — three now — and while you're bummed that you won't be getting a call tonight, at least he was courteous enough to text you and let you know that he is working late on a new lead.

You've got your leggings and t-shirt on under a sweater dress and you're ready to sneak out the back of the inn with Agent Bailey when you get stopped in the lobby.

“I am sorry, there is a gentleman her to see you.” Malachi rolls his eyes. “A flower delivery. Says that he must deliver to you personally.” He sniffs, a little annoyed that he had not been left the blooms so he could be nosy about who they are from by reading the card affixed to the front. He huffs. “He must be one of those singing flower deliveries.

“So he didn’t give you the card to read?” You tease, knowing Malachi has a penchant for gossip. “It’s okay.” Looping your arm through his with a playful grin, you walk with him out to the lobby. “I’ll let you read it first.” The hope in the back of your mind is very real and present, though — thinking of the possibility that Marcus might have sent you a few buds while he’s away. Maybe as a thank you for helping Cameron, since he’s still in a relationship.

“That is the least that you can do.” He snorts sassily and is eagerly looking forward to finding out who had send you such a beautiful bouquet.

“Hi there.” Greeting the delivery man easily, you’re immediately distracted by the tall cut vase of stunning white flowers with greens strewn throughout to enhance the beauty of the arrangement. “They sent you with quite an armful, didn’t they? Let me take those for you.”

The delivery person is dressed sharply and he confirms your name with Malachi, since you are distracted with the flowers. Instead of handing them to you, he starts to sing. “Baby, I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time. And maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you. Maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time. You hung me on a line.”

The striking way your face falls immediately, draining of blood and leaving your eyes wide, leaving your throat dry right along with it. “I—um—thank you. Uh…thanks. That’s enough. You—you don’t have to sing anymore.” The way you had been desperately hoping Malachi was teasing about a singing delivery has been flushed down the drain, and you fish in your purse to tip the man so he can be on his way. “Oh god,” you mumble to yourself immediately, mortified and feeling like you’re about to throw up.

It’s not uncommon for someone to not wish for the song to be finished so when you tell him to stop, he sets the flowers down on the counter and accepts the tip. The transaction has been fulfilled in his eyes and he won’t insist the song be completed. “Have a nice day.” He tells you quickly.

“Thank you.” There’s no reason to be impolite to the man even though you feel like you’re going to be sick, and instantly you know that not even the cute little puppies at yoga are going to be able to cheer you up from this. “What the hell am I going to do with these?” The question is mostly rhetorical, even though Malachi is standing right next to you. “And why the hell would he send them?”

“Is it not alright for your boyfriend to send you flowers?” He scrunches his brow in confusion. “You love flowers.”

“Mal…” Lowering your voice, you grab the lapel of his jacket and drag Malachi behind the desk to make it look like you’re talking about something work related with the flowers acting as a shield between you two and the rest of the lobby. “I broke up with Sam earlier in the week,” you confide, as quietly as you possibly can.

His eyes widen in surprise and he folds his arms over his chest in mild annoyance you have not told him before now. “What? Why? You love Sam.”

“It’s complicated.” Is the best excuse you can really give him in this exact moment, which feels weird and wrong, but the whole situation is so odd. “Only Sydney knows, so please don’t say anything? You know I prefer to keep my private life private.” Which is yet another reason that the singing telegram is not exactly your style.

“I do not know what to say.” While Malachi loves to know all the gossip and details, he does not share information. He claims he is more of a gatherer.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you assure him, exhaling a long and haggard breath. “Just…help me look for a card or something? Sam having the delivery guy sing ‘our song’ is a little pointed, but there might be a note too.”

“Of course.” He nods and he starts looking through the massive arrangement to find a card.

“Here it is.” Tucked deep into the arrangement between the most massive white carnations you’ve ever seen, is a card in Sam’s scrawling print. Not one to go back on your promise, you hand it to Malachi first, but you have a sinking sensation that you know what it will say.

Malachi opens the card and clears his throat to start reading. “My love, I know I have much to apologize for, but I will spend as much time as it takes to win your forgiveness. Love, Sam.” He reads out loud and looks up at you. “He is begging for forgiveness, Birdie.” Ticking an eyebrow up, he smirks. “Looks like Congressman Chase is trying very hard to win you back.”

“Apparently so.” Although you can’t say that you’re thrilled about it. “Where am I going to put these flowers? This thing is enormous.”

“Your office?” He asks. “Or make it a centerpiece for the family table.”

“Emily Post says never use fragrant flowers in a table arrangement so they don’t alter the scent of your food.” The factoid — learned from your grandmother — spills out of your mouth instantly and you sigh softly. “I’ll bring them upstairs. The side table in the living room has room, and I need to call him now anyway.” Privacy is better is the implication there.

“I will send Charlie up with them.” Charlie is boy who works afternoons carrying luggage and delivering tea and meals to the rooms. As well as working in the kitchen when another pair of hands is needed.

“You’re an angel, Mal. Thank you.” It still leaves you with a phone call to make, but that is up to just you no matter what else happens.

“Of course.” Malachi nods and quickly walks off to find the burly younger man. Knowing you wouldn’t want the flowers to be downstairs for long so no one would ask questions.

Turning around again is an option, but Charlie is bringing the flowers upstairs and you’re already dressed for yoga, so you slip out the back door in the vain hope that an hour of stretching with very cute puppies will help. You can call Sam and have an uncomfortable conversation later when you’re feeling more centered.

The puppies are just what you need. Scampering and yipping through the posed arms and legs of people might not seem like it would be relaxing, but it is. And short of hearing Marcus’s voice, it’s the most relaxing thing you can possibly think of right now. Hopefully it works.

**

Fridays are always busier than any other day. Getting through the work day and having a little time to decompress before going to family dinner is always a task, but tonight you’re having an evening cup of coffee in your living room while you hammer out the scheduling assignments for the wedding which is now only one week away. Everything is falling into place, thankfully, and you’re going to give your team a big thank you for hustling to get everything ready in time.

The incoming call isn’t a normal one, and Marcus hopes you don’t mind. He wants to show you something and hopes you like it.

If he could see the smile on your face when his photo pops up on your phone screen, he would know for sure that you don't mind at all. "Hey G-man." You greet him with a voice full of sunshine, and since it's a FaceTime call he can actually see the grin this time as well.

“Hey.” Marcus grins back at you, very pleased that you seem happy to see him. “I’m sorry to call you at such a weird time, but I’m somewhere I thought you would appreciate.”

"Don't ever be sorry to call." As if to prove it, you heft the notebooks off of your lap and sit back on the couch. "Where are you?"

“The Tower of London.” He turns the camera around to show you the area.

"No!" Immediately you're sitting up in your seat again, trying to inspect the image on your phone like you might be able to climb into it if you try hard enough. "God, I miss London! Have you gotten to poke around anywhere? That whole place is so cool and so haunted."

“I’ve been allowed back into the Jewel House.” He admits. “They said that it’s okay if I’m on a video call while I’m there. Do you want to see the jewels up close?”

"Did you seriously just ask a girly girl if she wants to see the Crown Jewels? Marcus Pike you are a dream." The few minutes you have before you need to leave will be perfectly spent just like this and you grab your coffee to sip while he moves around the space.

He snorts, thankful that the camera is off of him so you can’t see that he’s blushing. “Here we go.” There is a moment that he has to wait for the doors to be unlocked, but then it’s opened up and he steps into the Jewel House.

"Did you know the Black Prince's ruby in the Imperial State Crown isn't actually a ruby?" The excitement bubbles over you with the instinctive knowledge that Marcus won't judge you for it. Getting excited about history isn't a bad thing, after all.

"What is it?" He asks, glancing around to see if he can find the Imperial State Crown to show you up close. "Oh, there it is."

"It's a balas stone." When he starts walking up to it you practically squeak with excitement. "They say Henry V wore it in his helmet at the Battle of Agincourt. Like a good luck charm."

"A good luck charm, hum?" Marcus smiles as he pushes the phone's camera closer to you can see it under the bright lights of the room. "I need one of those." He huffs. "Been running out of luck lately."

"Dead end with the case?" You ask, genuine concern in your voice despite humming over the large gem. "I hope not. You're supposed to be back in a week for Cameron's wedding."

"Nah." He doesn't want to turn the conversation to things that will bring down the mood. "Professionally, things are great." He promises. "I'm going to spend the next few days wrapping up to turn over to Interpol and I'm hoping to be back two days before the wedding."

"So..." Biting your lip is a nervous tick that you never quite got rid of, but you're smiling into the camera regardless. "Does that mean I can give my parents your RSVP for my birthday when I go to dinner tonight? Since you know you're going to be back in time?"

“Yeah.” Marcus shifts the camera back around so you can see him nod. “I’ll be there. Sorry that I’ve been gone, it’s probably sitting in my mailbox. But tell your parents I’m happily accepting the invitation.”

“I’m happy to accept it on your behalf, but since they still insist the location has to be a surprised, you’ll have to check the card for that.” Once he’s back in frame, that smile on your face gets beaming all over again. “So are there any corners of that jewel house that we peasants don’t get to see and you do?”

“Yes.” Marcus smirks and turns the camera around. “Would you like to see the personal jewels?” He asks, walking over to another door.

“You’re kidding?” Another gasp and giggle comes out of you as you readjust on your couch. There’s only one last sip of coffee at the bottom of your cup but what he’s showing you is far more exciting than hazelnut creamer. “Yes please! Absolutely.”

“Okay, but I’ve been instructed that I cannot pick up or touch any of them. So….yeah.” He doesn’t know why he would say that, it’s not like you can come through the screen and pick up the jewels.

“Oh my god…” The room that he’s in is full of cases, shelving, and careful lighting that make the stored pieces glint and glitter. They wink at Marcus as he moves about the room, teasing you through the camera and making both of you gasp or giggle alternately. It’s just such an enormous measure of opulence that taking it in together is surreal.

“What do you think? Pretty amazing, right?” He’s a little giddy, and soft, sharing this with you, even if it’s through a screen. “The sheer monetary value of this room is more than every house I’ve ever owned.”

“Same,” you huff, and laugh when he throws you a doubtful look. “We don’t own the White House. We’re just borrowing it for a while.” You remind him with a grin. “And I don’t even live there!”

“Yeah, buuuuuut…” he flashes you a grin. “You can sleep in the Lincoln bedroom anytime you want. I bet your mom wouldn’t say no.”

“You probably could too.” A little poke at the screen is the closest you’re going to get to touching him, and you hate that fact. “After the State dinner, she probably likes you more than me.”

“Nahhhh.” He shakes his head and shrugs. “You’re her daughter. She loves you unconditionally. Me? She just likes that I look good in a tux and can dance.” He reminds you. “Those are mutually exclusive things.”

“If you think she loves me unconditionally, remind me to tell you about the time I lost the fifth grade spelling bee to Maude Appleton,” you snort, nearly in giggles on the couch again. “I’m a disgrace to the family, Marcus. Truly.”

“The black sheep, huh? I can tell.” He rolls his eyes and cheekily sticks out his tongue at you. “You have a sitting President planning your birthday party.”

“One that she absolutely does not need to be throwing, and that you will be at.” The fact that he’s coming tickles you more than a little, and you grin like a moron for a moment longer before the alarm on your watch goes off. “Speaking of Madam President,” you huff a dramatic sigh and lift yourself off the couch. “That’s my cue. It’s Friday night dinner.”

“Go, enjoy your dinner with the President while I skulk around the Crown Jewels and dream of being King Marcus.” He jokes, smirking at you through the screen.

“Just remember, every king needs a queen.” The moniker First Princess flashes through your head again and your cheeks burn with it. “Or at least a Princess.”

You are moving to your door and Marcus is about to come back with slightly flirtatious comeback when he spots the gorgeously large bouquet of flowers on the table. A slap in the face reminder of who you are and despite that, you are taken. “Yeah.” The agreement is a little flat for the previous tone of the conversation. “Well, um, I better go. The President doesn’t need to be kept waiting.”

“She’s still just my mother.” The change in his tone doesn’t escape you but the reason does, and you furrow your eyebrows at the screen but swallow it down. He’s still dating Vanessa. Don’t make it weird. You remind yourself harshly. “I’ll talk to you later.” It’s always how you sign off your calls now, and you know you sound hopeful but you don’t care one bit.

“Talk later.” He agrees and disconnects the call. Staring at his Home Screen for a moment before sighs. “You’re a fucking idiot, Pike.”He grumbles. “She’s dating a fucking congressman. She doesn’t want you.” When he gets back home, he needs to look at the dating apps again. Needing to forget about you and move on.

**

Friday night dinners are ritual, soothing, although June is eager to get this particular one over with so she can go out with the potential boyfriend she had met at the party last Friday. Nervous, she exudes that kind of boundless energy she had as a child, since she likes this guy so much it surprises her.

“Someone’s in a good mood tonight.” Your father observes with a wry smirk as the five of you sit down at the table together. He’s particularly excited about dinner tonight for purely food reasons, but he likes seeing his children happy and buzzing.

“I’m going to the movies.” She volunteers, knowing that the security detail would have already informed her parents anyway.

“With Kiley?” Alex assumes automatically, knowing that Junie’s best friend is a movie fanatic. “What are you guys going to see? I might tag along.”

“No!” She’s almost spitting out her refusal and then realizing that it sounds suspicious, she backs down. “I mean, I’m not going with Kiley. You can’t come.”

“If you’re not going with Kiley…” Alex’s eyes widen as he picks up his drink, not bothering to hide his growing smirk behind the glass at all. “Did you meet somebody, Junebug? Please tell me you are smart enough not to get bamboozled by a frat boy or a post grad.”

“Shut up.” She hisses, throwing her napkin at him. “It’s none of your business and I’m smarter than that.”

“So you did meet someone.” You join the smirking too, knowing that razzing your sister is all in good fun and that you and Alex would go to the ends of the earth to protect her. “What’s their name? How’d’ya meet? Give us the dirt, Junie.”

She narrows her eyes at you, feeling slightly betrayed by you essentially ganging up on her. “I met him at the party last weekend. His name is Bryan and before you say anything…” She holds up her hand. “He is in a fraternity but he was the DD for the party.”

“Sounds responsible.” Your father commends from one end of the table. “We just want to know you’re safe, Bug. That’s all.”

“Oh, no.” Alex shakes his head as the salad course hits the table. “We want dirt.”

“He may have passed the Secret Service’s background check, but not the older sibling one,” you agree with a nod.

“Oh my ggggggggoddddddd.” June groans, dropping her head into her hand and giving a moan of embarrassment. “I think he might be my soulmate, okay?” She huffs.

The room is dropped into a vacuum as all the air is sucked out of it. Four family members sit stunned before all hell breaks loose in excitement as everyone starts talking at once.

“Why do you think so, honey?”

“Junie, that’s wonderful!”

“Holy shit, are you serious?!”

“Are you excited? Did you ask him how he got the scar on his leg?”

“I haven’t seen that scar.” June admits, groaning slightly and now worried that she might have raised everyone’s hopes for nothing. “But it’s not like it’s obvious like your tattoo.” She snorts, throwing you an amused look. “Although Agent Pike didn’t seem to think it was dumb.”

Halfway to picking up your salad fork, you freeze all over again. “Why would you say that?” The carefully affected breezy tone in your voice doesn’t fool your family for a second, and your blood is pounding your ears out of sheer fear for your baby sister’s answer.

“Oh, we talked about it while we danced.” She confirms, unaware of the turmoil she is causing. “He’s really nice. He actually didn’t make fun of where you put your hummingbird like I do.”

“June Allegra…” There is as much warning in your voice as there is fear and worry, your eyes blowing wide as they narrow on her across the table. “You told Marcus about my tattoo?”

“Was it supposed to be some kind of secret?” She asks, startled by your reaction. “I didn’t— you’ve never really hidden it before. Are you— did I do something wrong?” She throws her parents a confused look.

“I hadn’t said anything yet,” you admit, feeling sick to your stomach at the realization that Marcus has known for an entire week that you are soulmates. Through the phone calls and the chats and the work you’re doing for his friend’s wedding. He’s known, but he’s still with Vanessa. “I’ve suspected for weeks, but I didn’t…it hadn’t been confirmed…”

“Suspected what?” She’s still not grasped what you are talking about, but your mother and father exchange a very pointed glance with each other.

“Oh honey.” Your mother sighs.

June huffs. “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Agent Pike is Birdie’s soulmate.” Alex’s voice isn’t nearly as teasing, more of a soft tone of understanding cutting through the tension in the room. “And you told him before she could.”

“I’m not mad,” you assure your sister quickly, but your heartbeat has leapt up into your throat. “It’s just…it’s complicated.”

“Oh shiiiiiit.” Her eyes widen and she looks like she might cry. “Why— why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t you? You’re soulmates? What about Sam?”

“I broke up with Sam.” That admission is heavy enough on its own, knowing that letting the cat out of the bag with your family is now officially necessary. “Not…exclusively because of that. But it made me think about things. And…I hadn’t told Marcus yet because I wasn’t sure. Plus, he’s seeing someone else. And I didn’t want to complicate things for him.” June really does look like she’s about to cry, though, and you get up and circle the table to hug her. “You didn’t know, Junebug. It’s okay.”

“Oh shit.” It’s not often your mother curses, but she does now. “Sam got an invitation to your birthday, I wouldn’t have dreamed of not inviting him, but if you’ve broken up….”

“I still want to stay friends with him.” The clarification is obviously important since it does change expectations a bit. “And Marcus will be home from London in time to come to the party, so please just…I will let you guys know when I’ve talked to him, okay? If I don’t say anything to you directly will you all please assume I haven’t gotten to talk to him about it yet and not say anything?”

“Damn.” Alex whistles quietly. “I thought my soulmate status was complicated.” He snorts. “You’ve got me beat, big sis.

“Your soulmate status isn’t complicated, people are just bigoted,” you toss back, knowing that Alex and David have been crazy about each other forever. They just stay quiet about it to avoid unnecessary commentary on their personal lives. Which you give them a lot of credit for, honestly. “This is…a lot.”

“Yes it is.” Your father speaks up. “And only you can decide when the time is right to talk to Marcus about this.” He agrees. “You said he was also seeing someone?”

"Yeah..." As the five of you slowly start to eat, the sick to your stomach feeling is subsiding a little and you nod. "Um...Vanessa D'Amario? She's, uh...she's Sam's aide."

Your mother winces. “Also daughter to Judge D’Amario.” She tells the table. “Federal circuit and on the short list for Supreme Court.” She would never tell you to not follow your heart, but she does want to caution you. “Just be honest and let Marcus decide what he needs to do before you take any steps.”

"I just want him to be happy." It sounds cliched, but as soon as it's out of your mouth you know it's true. That the feeling that's nestled deep into your ribcage is new love and that it's real enough to make you both selfless and just a little stupid. "If that means staying with Vanessa, I'll just have to deal with it."

Alex shakes his head. “That man is a romantic.” He snorts. “He probably is waiting for the right moment. Some big gesture.”

"I don't know what's going to happen," you admit, stabbing a piece of apple and some cheese rather violently with your salad fork. "But what I do know is that for now, I'm excited about Junie maybe meeting someone she's interested in and my birthday happening in a week." Your eyes raise to your mother on one end of the table and you offer her a lopsided smile. "You might have to tell me where the party is after all, Mom. Unless you're going to have somebody else drive me."

“I can have Marcus bring you.” She offers with a small grin.

"I honestly think he would forget how to speak if you called him." It's an enormously sweet and endearing thought, trying to wrap your head around how Marcus might react to the sitting President calling him up to ask a favor.

Your father chuckles and reaches over to take your mother’s hand. “Well, she might talk him into it if she demands a dance with him. She was grumbling about not being able to dance with your escort herself after the State dinner.”

"There's going to be dancing?" You raise your eyebrow at your mother, no longer able to get any kind of read at all at what kind of party this is going to be.

“That entirely depends on the music that you choose.” She grins at you. “Doesn’t have to be ballroom dancing. I can still break a leg.”

"It's cut a rug," June huffs, still amazed that the woman who somehow uses turns of phrase just barely incorrectly convinced an entire country to make her President.

The President laughs, aware of what the phrase actually is, she just enjoys watching her children cringe at times. “Whatever.” She huffs, waving her hand. “Either way, Birdie’s party will be wonderful.”

“That’s how your tattoo came up!” June huffs. “Your nickname. Again, I’m sorry, Birdo.”

"You couldn't have known, Junebug. It's okay." At another point in your lives you might have been the right ages for you to hold it over her head, but not anymore. You and June have just under ten years separating your ages and that difference has united you in as many ways as it's separated you. "And I'm going to be honest, along with all the different songs from the years of my life? It's a lot of 80s dance music. I gave the list to Dad when I got here."

“Perfect.” Your mom winks at you, “I loved the 80s.”

"We know, Mom." Alex snorts, shaking his head as he eats his salad. "Just promise you won't do the Running Man or the Robot or anything."

“My Robot is amazing!” She protests with a laugh, knowing that while she can dance, she’s goofy with that move. “Okay, okay I’ll resist.” She huffs dramatically.

“We acknowledge and appreciate your sacrifice,” you tease, raising your glass to your mother in salute.

“As long as my accomplishments are acknowledged.” She teases back, smiling at the three of her children. Happy that all of them are on the way to knowing their soulmates, even if they don’t choose to be with them. “So how do you feel about the idea that Marcus Pike might be your soulmate?” She asks softly. “That’s the most important thing.”

The opportunity to think about your answer while tonight’s main course comes out is appreciated, and when it turns out to be your mother’s very favourite thing on the planet — chicken cordon bleu with roasted potatoes and broccoli — the softness on your father’s face at seeing her delight reminds you of the warm, tight feeling in your chest every time you hear Marcus laugh. It tingles its way up to your cheeks and you end up smiling just hearing his name. “He’s a good man,” you say finally. “I think I’m lucky.”

She watches you with a sense of pride. “Good.” She hums and lifts her glass of lemonade. “To Birdie and Junie.” She poses. “May their soulmates be worthy of the wonderful women they are.”

“Here here!” Your father’s addition may not be long in the way of words, but he sees your reaction, and the soft way you smile, and has a feeling that things will end up okay.

June smiles, still feeling guilty for letting the cat out of the bag, but honestly she wonders if Marcus is aware that you might be soulmates. He didn’t seem to react too much from what she can remember.

“So…” Your mother sits up tall at the table and looks between her three children at the table. “Am I allowed to do a little business at supper? Since I have all of you here?”

“Oh boy.” Alex immediately rolls his eyes. “I knew we weren’t getting a great meal and there not be strings.” It’s an old joke in the family about how no one eats for free.

"Oh, you'll like yours," she waves one hand at him, unbothered by her middle child's habitual sass. "I just wanted to let all of you know that someone from my office is going to be contacting each of you in the next month or so with some opportunities for good publicity. There are plenty of websites and magazines that want to talk to the three of you and different businesses that want to be associated with you. We're going through all of it before we approve requests, and I thought each of you should be allowed to have some say in each of your approvals." She meets eyes with each of you individually, knowing what the first question will be. "And I'm sorry, but no publicity is not an option. That's why we're curating each list carefully. To keep things controlled and try to avoid things coming at any of you from left field."

June is the least social out of all of you and it’s immediately apparent that she is not happy. “Whhhhhhhhhy?” she whines. “You’re President, not us. Go adopt a puppy or something.”

"That's actually on the list," she admits, chuckling at how on the nose some of the choices are for her kids. "Since animal rights and animal welfare are the things that you've always cared the most about, we thought you might be willing to partner with a local rescue and pick out a new dog for the family." There has been a lot of time and effort put into making sure that the things being presented to each of the kids is something they actually care about and something that is representative of who they are. Hopefully that makes things a little less overwhelming for each of the kids individually.

“Wait…really?” Her parents have been loving and wonderful but the busy lifestyle they had lead hadn’t been fair to an animal. At least for a long time. The last family pet had been a cat who had died of old age when June was eight. “Are you being serious? This isn’t a joke, right?”

"They'll be your responsibility to take care of, for the most part," your mother warns, but she's glad to see the way June lights up. "I'm sure Alex will help, and Birdie too, when your sister is around. But...we know we're asking a lot of your kids. So we thought you should get something out of it, too."

“You had to wait until I’m practically out of the house?” Alex huffs playfully.

“Four years in the White House with a puppy still sounds like a pretty good time,” your dad contends. From the way he’s smiling it looks like letting Junie get a puppy was probably his idea. Even more so when he adds: “And I have some thoughts about the name.”

“We are not naming it Scout.” Alex warns him, pointing his finger at his father.

“But it’s a good name!” Your father protests in response, sending everyone into intermediate laughter and sighs. It’s always what he wants to name pets. Even the baby bird Junie rescued from the park when she was five.

“But we need something more dignified for a White House pooch.” June insists, grinning at her dad.

“Don’t tell me. You want to name the dog after Eleanor Roosevelt or Susan B. Anthony?” Alex jokes. “Why don’t we meet the pup before we name them? They might turn out to be just as goofy as the rest of this family.”

“We should get a really dopey puppy and name him Goofy.” June snickers happily. She picks up her glass. “I want to adopt.” She insists. “And make sure they are spayed or neutered.”

“I think Junie might be enjoying her assignment after all,” you observe, flashing both of your parents an impressed smile. Whatever they have for you, you’ll take the responsibility of more spotlight onto your shoulders with as much grace as you can muster. While it’s not your favourite part of your mother’s victory, it’s a very real part of how things will work for the next few years. And you did willingly sign up — for lack of a better phrase — to be as helpful as you could be.

“Good.” The President watches over all of you with a small smile and nods back at you. She knew that it would be difficult at times, but you are all handling it with as much grace and aplomb as could be expected.

“In other news.” With things going fairly well after the shock early in dinner tonight, your father is glad for the change in tone. “I hope everyone has the White House Easter Egg Roll already on their calendar.”

“I’m finding the golden egg!” Alex declares with a laugh. “There better be big money in it this year.”

“There will be prizes for the kids, and a nice lunch.” It earns Alex a smirk from your father, though. Of course it does.

“Are we supposed to do anything besides dress appropriately and be proud of you at the podium while you make a small speech?” It’s a valid question, directly aimed at your mother, but the question you’re afraid to ask is whether or not this is something they would prefer the three of you have escorts for.

“I’ve decided to change things up a little this year.” The President admits with hopeful smile. “We are bringing in one of the local orphanages, I was hoping that you and any friends you want to bring, along with my staff, would pair up with a child for the egg hunt.”

“You’re going to piss off a lot of judges and legislators with that one.” And you don’t mind pointing it out to her. It’s often seen as a privilege of the position for high-ranking government employees to get that coveted invitation for their families to attend White House events. Letting ‘just anybody’ in is a mark for your mother to the public but possibly against her to a lot of other people. “I’ll be sure to bring a whole crew.”

“Fuck ‘em.” She huffs, rolling her eyes. “It is the People’s House. That includes children that haven’t found their forever home yet.”

“Besides,” June smirks, the admiration for her mother clear as day on her face. “What are they gonna do? She’s the President. You can’t impeach somebody for being nice.”

“They are really going to be pissed when we push the homeless initiative.” She has a list of things that she wants to tackle before she has to worry about re-election or leaving the office. Honestly, she wants her record in office to do the campaigning for her.

“And we’ll be even prouder.” There hasn’t really ever been a time when you haven’t been proud of your mother, but seeing the things she wants to accomplish while in office really does hammer it home for you. If the number of homeless and unemployed drops across the country like it did in Pennsylvania while she was governor, it will be enough to put her in history books all by itself.

“Thank you all for your help, your patience and everything you put with.” Right now, there isn’t a Secret Service Agent in sight, they all stay outside of the private residence, but she knows that it chaffs sometimes.

“We’ve got your back, Mom,” you promise her, because despite being a family of sass and negotiation, the fact is that you’re all very close. The age gaps between you and your siblings have never mattered, and the bumps in the road that you’ve all weathered were manageable because you got over them together.

**

The invitation to your birthday is beautiful and Marcus smiles when he sees the theme. Finally home, there’s plenty of mail to open and things to do before he changes and runs over to the inn for the wedding rehearsal.

His cell phone is perpetually on his person, always ready to go at a moment’s notice, but he isn’t expecting any calls. He’s just concentrating on getting through his stack of mail and getting his head on straight when his phone goes off. The word Private across his phone screen isn’t necessarily unusual, but having just come home from a case, there is an uncomfortable possibility that this is work related.

“Special Agent Pike.” He tucks the phone under his chin as he sets the mail down, pulling out a notebook in case it’s someone about a case.

“Good afternoon, Agent.” The President’s voice is distinct and recognizable to anyone who has heard her speak as many times as a government agent has, but she introduces herself anyway. Arrogance isn’t a characteristic she typically has. “Do you have a moment?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Marcus straightens immediately and wonders if something is wrong. “What may I help you with?” The President of the United States is calling him, he is going to do whatever she needs.

“I know you have an important night, so I won’t keep you.” She is well apprised of the wedding you are coordinating in just two days’ time. You’ll be missing family dinner for it, but your business and your integrity are important enough to take precedence. “But I’m afraid I have to ask a small favor of you, if I may? Are you Stateside again, Agent Pike?”

“Yes Ma’am, I am.” The fact that she knows he was out of the country means you talked about him with her, even if it was concerning the invitation to the party. It warms him in a way that it shouldn’t, given your relationship with Congressman Chase. He knows that whatever the favor, he will gladly do it. “Whatever you need, I’ll be happy to help.”

“It’s small,” she promises with a chuckle. Just as you had said — and as she had seen a little bit of at the State dinner — Marcus Pike is an earnest sort of man. “I was hoping you would be willing to pick Birdie up for her party on Saturday to bring her to the venue? The location is a surprise and I know she’d appreciate being able to ride in with you.” Instead of one of her siblings is the end of the sentence in her mind, but these days she’s fairly certain that you would pick Marcus Pike over almost anyone.

“Of course.” He agrees immediately, almost without thought, but he wonders why Sam isn’t bringing you. He opens his mouth to ask, but quickly shuts it before anything comes out, deciding he doesn’t want to know if there’s some birthday surprise involving the congressman. “What time do you want me to have her walk through the door?” He asks instead.

“Seven-thirty would be ideal.” The invitations say to arrive at seven, and she wants everyone assembled at the club before you get there. “She’s never been to the Statesman Club, I checked with Sydney. So she shouldn’t have any idea where you’re bringing her. And don’t let the half-hearted protests convince you of a thing. She loves a surprise.”

Marcus chuckles quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He promises. “Seven-thirty.” He repeats. “I’ll have her there on time. Will Agent Bailey follow us or ride with us?” He asks.

“She will follow.” In fact, as a mother, she made sure of that. The chance to give you and Marcus some time alone seemed important. “Hopefully nothing will be complicated, and everything should be fun. I do appreciate the favor, Agent. It won’t go unremembered.”

“I am happy to help.” He feels slightly strange about having the President feel indebted to him, not that he would use it for anything at all. “Sincerely.”

“Wonderful.” There’s a smile in her voice, but a finality as well. “Well, I won’t keep you. Have fun at the rehearsal dinner tonight and the wedding on Friday.”

He’s surprised she knows the plans, but why, he’s not sure. You are close to your mother and he doubts you don’t talk about your work. “Thank you Madame President.” He hums quietly. “Have a good evening.”

“Good evening. And thank you again.” The call clicks off with a pleasant tone, and the President smiles to herself on the other end, knowing you didn’t think she would actually go through with having Marcus bring you to your party.

Marcus just stares at the phone for a moment, feeling like that was a surreal moment. He’s certainly never had the President call him for a favor before. Chuckling to himself, he moves towards the bathroom, needing to shower before he gets dressed for the rehearsal.

**

The rehearsal dinner truly is the easiest part of this process. For you, at least. You’ve done large handfuls of them in the past to be a help to Juan, and the number of people at this particular rehearsal is going to be incredibly small. Cameron and her fiancé had asked for just a family style meal after the actual rehearsal and you had set up a round dinner table in the gazebo in the grounds for them to enjoy their night with a few friends and family in relative privacy. Per your usual protocol, everyone working the wedding will be in black tonight and for the ceremony on Friday, and you’ve set yourself into a long-sleeved black blouse and cigarette pants for tonight with a smart pair of flats to complete the Audrey Hepburn look. There was a lot of back and forth about it between you and Sydney and Juan, but now that you know Marcus knows about your soulmate status? You’ve got to talk to him tonight. You may even have a few surprises up your sleeve, since you had to change your plans for that grand, romantic gesture.

Marcus tries to make his outfit seem casual, a more tailored suit than he wears at work, no tie. Loafers instead of dress shoes. He shows up right as Cameron and Michael do. Smiling as they get out of their car and he hugs the bride, shaking the groom’s hand. “You survived.” He jokes.

“Thanks to you.” Cameron — Joyce outside of work and to her friends and family — happily hugs Marcus instead of shaking his hand. “I don’t know what you said to her but she has bent over backward to make this happen and we’re so grateful.”

“I just asked her for a favor.” He admits with a sheepish grin. “That’s all.”

“Well, then she’s an amazing friend and we’re grateful for that, too.” She’s absolutely beaming in her white floral sundress and happily ready for this week’s celebrations. As stressful as everything had been, it has also been wonderful to feel like the day isn’t in jeopardy after all. “How was the case?”

“Interesting, but I want to focus on you and Wiley.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out an envelope. “I want to help with the costs. I know you guys got screwed having to pay twice.”

Cameron shakes her head adamantly, touched by the gesture even though it isn’t necessary. “We didn’t have to pay twice,” she tells him, acknowledging how remarkable that is. “I don’t really know what she did, but she hasn’t asked us for any money. The whole thing is just…it’s been a miracle.”

“Wow.” Marcus’s eyes widen and he wonders if you managed to get the other venue to cover the costs, but he knows in his heart, you just aren’t charging them. “Okay.” He sighs. “If you’re sure.”

“You’ve already helped us so much.” As a coworker and a boss, Marcus is fantastic. But as a friend? She will always be grateful for everything he’s done. Their long friendship has been through plenty of ups and downs, but this is above and beyond any call of duty that she could possibly think of. “Are you…still okay with walking me down the aisle?“

“I am looking forward to it…although…if you want someone else to do that, I understand.” Marcus hums as you walk outside to greet them.

“Joyce, Michael, you look fantastic. How are we feeling tonight?” You are nothing but professional smiles despite your own nerves for the various things that are set to happen tonight. Hopefully it will all be emotional in good ways only. “I’m glad you were able to get back in time, Marcus.”

“Me too.” He smiles politely, trying not to moon over how good you look. It makes him want to reach out and pull you into his arms, although that’s not right. “Are we all set?”

“Just about.” There’s a tingling in your fingers and the nervous butterflies in your stomach bottom out, but things are as ready as they’re going to be. You’re not about to steal the thunder from this couple on such an important night, but Marcus looks so good in his more casual and stylish suit that you have to remind yourself that you can’t just drag him upstairs. “Let’s take a walk out to the back and I’ll just give you a few moments to say hi to everyone before we get in place for the rehearsal. Okay?”

“That sounds good.” She’s excited, of course she is, but she’s also very disappointed. Wishing that she had her family here. The upside is that Marcus and her other friends are the best kind of family she could ask for.

“We’ve set up a table out in the gazebo for dinner. It should fit all eleven of you just fine.” A slight smile touches your lips, knowing that the couple only told you to expect nine for the rehearsal. The first surprise of the night is waiting for them out in the garden.

Cameron frowns slightly, tilting her head as she catches the error. From what you’ve shown her, you don’t make mistakes. “Eleven?”

“Eleven.” Waving one beckoning hand, you head out to the garden with Marcus, Cameron, and Michael in tow.

There are big batches of raspberry iced tea ready for tonight and all the guests gathered in the garden have glasses already. A few people are chatting but mostly they are looking around, inspecting early flowers blossoming in the flower beds from the warm spring, and the large planters that have already been brought in to be part of the decor for the wedding. In amongst the guests — the joyful friends and select family members who had offered continuous support — are Agent Cameron’s parents.

“Mom? Dad?” Cameron’s tone is nearly disbelieving and that makes Marcus’s heart hurt.

Mr. Cameron unwinds his arm from around his nervous-looking wife’s waist and rubs his hands together. “I hope we aren’t crashing your party.” He wants to set her and Michael at ease that they aren’t here to cause trouble. “I got a call from your boss a few days ago.” He glances over at Marcus briefly before turning his attention back to his only daughter. “Who told me, in much more eloquent terms, that I was a horse’s ass and would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t support you and Wiley.” He explains. “Your mother and I….we would like to come to the wedding and if it’s possible, maybe I could give you away?” He hopes that she will let him but if not, he would understand.

“Really?” A grown woman of more than thirty years, Joyce Cameron tears up immediately and clutches her fiancé’s hand while staring — gob smacked — at both of her parents. The whole thing doesn’t even register for a few seconds before she looks over at Marcus with a watery smile. “I don’t know a lot of people who can say their boss saved their wedding, and this is so much more than just one day.” She turns to hug Marcus fiercely before walking the six steps across the lawn she needs to embrace both of her parents.

Michael hangs back, giving his fiancée her moment with her parents as he turns to look at Marcus in astonishment. “How?” He demands, making the older man shrug.

“I asked them if they would be proud of the union if you shared marks.” He tells him. “They said you were a good man, and I reminded them that is all they should want for their daughter. A good man. One who treats her like a queen. And she’s found that. In you.”

"I guess it took somebody from the outside." Wiley shrugs, though, watching his fiancée hug her parents with happy tears in her eyes. "She deserves this, Marcus. Thank you." He murmurs, before stepping up to shake his soon-to-be father-in-law's hand and leaving Marcus standing with you on the edge of the garden.

Marcus smiles, happy that he has been able to help Joyce again, even if it means that he’s lost out on walking her down the aisle. He will happily be relegated to just a guest in this case. After a minute or so of quiet where Marcus doesn't step away from you, you nudge his side playfully with your elbow. "It's good to see you in person again."

“Glad it’s not accompanied by screaming parents, disturbing the peace and police reports.” He snorts, turning and giving you a friendly grin. It’s all he can muster but hopefully it’s believable. “But at least I didn’t get thrown into the dungeon for trying to steal the jewels.”

"They were very meek and apologetic when they got here," you assure him. The maid of honor — a cousin, apparently — had been shocked to see them but things had gone okay after the initial surprise wore off. For now, it's only good things with this wedding party so you can turn your attention to Marcus. "It would've caused quite a scandal if I had to go over there and bail you out, so I'm also glad you didn't get into any scrapes across the pond. I don't know if my curtsy is good enough for groveling."

He laughs slightly and then looks back at the older couple talking with the younger one. The relief is staggering from both sides and he sighs happily. “Guess I’m out of the rehearsal.”

"No reason you can't stay." It probably comes out too quickly, but the last thing you want is for him to leave. Not when you have...things you want to say. "You're the hero of the night. Stay and have a little supper, at least. I'm sure they don't want you to go."

“I wasn’t planning on leaving just yet.” He assures you. “Not when I can stay and bask in the happiness that my meddling worked.”

"Bask in it all you like. You earned it." Just like you're basking in this — just standing here beside him while the warmth of his presence washes over you like an exquisite sunset.

“Just like you.” Marcus turns towards you. “Are you not charging them? Or did the other place pony up some money?”

"I couldn't bear to charge them anything," you admit, shrugging your shoulders slightly. It's not something you're doing for the praise — it's something you're doing for the love of him as much or more than any other reason. "Derby Farms' lawyers are putting together compensations for all the clients who lost their dates and deposits and all...and it covered the expenses here. They already paid for their wedding once. And Sydney's food is better than what they serve anyway."

“So let me give you this.” He pulls the envelope out of his coat again. “To help. Because you just said they ‘are’ not they ‘have’.” He points out. “You have expenses.”

"You don't have to do anything, Marcus." Pressing the envelope gently back toward him, you just shake your head once so you don't draw any kind of attention from the happy wedding party or their officiant as he gets them all into order. "You asked me for a favor and I take that very seriously."

“I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t be paid.” He huffs, knowing that your time is precious and you have worked miracles with the short amount allotted.

"I know. But this is...it's more than just a few days of business. It's their happiness. And—" Your head tilts slightly, knowing that you didn't plan for this kind of timing but now you have a bit of extra time. "Do you...would you mind if we...talked? Just for a couple of minutes, since the rehearsal will go perfectly smoothly without either of us?"

Marcus feels his stomach flip and he swallows slightly, wondering why you want to talk to him. “Sure.” He says breezily.

You nod to the right, to where one of the small outbuildings that you use as a staging area has been staged for tonight, instead. Set up with twinkle lights and a little set of Bluetooth speakers and a small something for Marcus, you feel like you're visibly shaking as you walk to what used to be a shed and is now quite fixed up and neatly painted. The lights and music aren't on — not wanting to force a romantic mood on him in case he reacts poorly in any way to what you have to say — but privacy is good regardless.

"I...before anything else, I owe you an apology," you start, inhaling and exhaling deeply once the thin door has tapped shut behind you both.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” His rebuttal is automatic, along with the frown on his face.

"Yes I do." The nerves are running through you like lightning strikes, but you wrote out all of what you wanted to say and if you get through half of it you'll be very proud of yourself. "I kept something from you. Something important. And I thought I had kept a lid on it until I was prepared to really explain why I kept quiet. But then I found out at family dinner last week that Junie had gone and spilled the beans on me at the State dinner and I just..." Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. "I should have told you that I suspected we were soulmates right away. And I didn't. So I'm sorry, I just hope you'll let me explain why."

Marcus freezes and he wants to walk away. Fear, true fear curling in his gut. The fear of being rejected by the person the universe had said was supposed to be his. To realize that he wasn’t good enough for anyone. “You don’t—” he shakes his head. “Please don’t. Not right before Cameron’s wedding.” He asks softly.

"I know." You hang your head in turn, the bravery evaporating from you far faster than the weeks it has taken you to build it all up. "You're seeing Vanessa. And that's part of why I kept things to myself. If you really—" Nearly hiccupping at the idea of full-on rejection when you had been dreaming of any other reaction, you nod dumbly and try not to look as crestfallen as you feel. "I'm sorry. I should have kept it to myself a while longer, I guess."

Marcus chuckles dryly, surprised that he can in a moment like this. “I went to her after the State dinner.” He admits, looking down at his loafers and wishing he was still in the wedding after all. “I needed to tell her that I— that it was— to end things.” He sighs and gives a self-amused smirk at the ground. “Only to get dumped before I could open my mouth.” He shoves his hands into his trouser pockets. “She apparently discovered who her soulmate was.”

"When it rains, it pours." Your laugh is hollow, still afraid, and you twist your arms behind your back nervously. "So...all the phone calls...all the times I swore to myself I wasn't going to flirt with you on the phone...we've both been single the whole time?"

“You’re dating Sam.” He murmurs, as if to remind you even though it’s odd you would say that. It is too much of a hope to have that you had ended things with him.

"I told you at the State dinner that I was ending things." Although it does, somehow for the very first time, occur to you that you didn't actually tell him you had done it. "I meant it. I broke up with him the next day."

“Why?” The question is quiet, although he would normally never pry, he needs to know.

"Do you want the complete or abridged list of reasons?" Attempting at humor falls short, and you find yourself swallowing down that fear mixed with bile that is threatening to bubble up your throat. "Well... whichever list you pick... this biggest reason is... is actually you." Inhale. Exhale. Try to remember everything you wrote down over the last week. "Because from the moment you walked in the front door of the inn, you took my breath away. And not just because you're handsome, although I admit that's undeniable. It's the way you seem to make things effortless. Easy conversations and god you have the most incredible laugh. It's like music. Everything about you has just built up and built up and... and somehow it isn't just oh, I like Marcus more than I like Sam. It's the way something inside me started tugging toward you right away and I didn't know what it was. All the cracks in the veneer I had built up of convincing myself that I was happy before... I've been happier being friends with you than I was in that entire relationship."

As the rambling boils over, the small speech you prepared is abandoned, and for better of your worse you find yourself laying your heart bare right there on the floor of the work shed. "I told myself I couldn't tell you that I was falling in love with you until I had made sure that I was doing it for the right reasons, but I don't even know what the right reasons are anymore. I just... know that my entire life I've felt like I was reaching for the moon. And every time you smile at me, it makes me feel like the moon is reaching for me, instead."

There’s a moment when his heart stops. Skips a beat or just falters from the emotions. Recognizing the line, it’s almost embarrassing how misty his eyes become. “You quoted Sabrina.” He murmurs, finally able to catch his breath and pure pleasure rushes through him when he realizes that this isn’t the ‘sorry we can’t’ speech he had been anticipating. “I didn’t want cause you problems.” He admits softly. “But I was – expecting this to be more of a reasons why you couldn’t be with me, speech. So you’ve surprised me.”

He smiles at you again. “From the moment I met you, I felt like I knew you. That you were someone precious to me.” He whispers. “And you are. Not just for the ridiculous tattoo we share—” he jokes, reaching for your hand. “But because of the woman you are. Hardworking, kind, smart, generous, beautiful – inside and out.”

His touch soothes and burns all at once, scorching you and making you feel lighter than air. All the grand, elaborate plans you made have gone out the window, and now it’s just you and Marcus standing together alone with your hearts in your throats. “Every realistic way I imagined this going…most of them ended in a polite denial or a reminder that you’re seeing someone,” you admit, exhaling a shaky breath. “I almost don’t know what to do now.”

“Neither do I.” Marcus can only laugh because he’s so hesitant right now. So sure you had wanted to just pretend he wasn’t your soulmate, he hadn’t even realized he had discounted the possibility you wanted the connection.

“I had a whole plan.” A fact which now makes your cheeks burn just as much as your hand is where he’s still holding it. “It was much more romantic than just spilling my guts to you all at once, I promise.”

“A plan?” He frowns slightly in confusion.

Not willing to take your hand back from him, you reach over with your free one and flip a few light switches — turning off the main lights in the small room and turning on the twinkling fairy lights instead. The small Bluetooth speaker crackles to life to begin playing Edith Piaf’s La Vie en Rose, and a small, cylindrical box nearby holds a single, ivory Eternity rose. Opening it now feels almost backward, but you still want Marcus to have the small token of your affection. “My first thought was honestly to whisk us both off to Paris for a weekend,” you admit, laughing at your own romanticism. “But when I reined myself in a little, I realized that all I really want is to spend time with you. So… Marcus Pike…” you hold out the wax treated rose just like a nervous high schooler and admit to yourself that that is how you feel right now. “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

He’s been asked out before, he has. He’s been hit on in bars or through dating apps, but this feels significant, because no one has ever put a lot of thought or effort into doing something for him. “Maybe Paris next weekend.” He chuckles, taking the rose and reaching out to cup your face with it in his hand. “This weekend we have a wedding and a birthday party.” He hums softly. “And maybe the flea market on Sunday?” He would say a baseball game, but the season hasn’t started yet.

“I’d really like that.” With his hand there it’s nearly impossible not to lean into his palm, and the feeling of nearly shaking apart with excitement shoots through you again. “As long as…” The nerves return, but you swallow them down carefully. “You don’t mind being seen out with me? People tend to take notice these days… and there’s always a chance of being photographed. Well… you saw the papers after the dinner…”

“I don’t care if the whole world knows that I’m out with you.” Marcus murmurs softly. “I’ll be proud to stand beside you. Not because I want any kind of fame or recognition, but because I’m with you.” He smiles. “Although sunglasses and a baseball cap work wonders for making people second guess if you want anonymity.”

“We’ll have to give it a try.” You’re beaming at him, absolutely grinning from ear to ear, and the feeling of rightness in this moment is nearly overwhelming. “I would’ve told you all this two weeks ago if I’d known on that first phone call that we were both single already. But I’m glad we got to do this face to face instead.”

“Getting away was best.” Marcus admits softly. “I was having a hard time reminding myself that you weren’t available.”

Nuzzling your cheek into his hand is as easy as breathing, and you laugh softly. “I think if you had asked, I would have come running.”

He smiles and gazes at you softly. “This is real? I’m not dreaming?” He jokes.

“If you’re dreaming, then we both are.” It’s nice to know you’re not alone in this giddiness, and even getting lost in his eyes at this moment feels like a gift.

“Sweetheart…” Marcus brushes his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “May I kiss you?” Even if you are his soulmate, and want to be with him, you deserve to be asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” you admit after a soft laugh. “I’m glad we’re already on the same page.”

“Good.” Marcus is stepping closer the second you say that. His other hand on your hip gently and he smirks slightly. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to kiss you during that dance.”

“About half as badly as I wanted to kiss you?” It’s good that you didn’t, of course. Not in front of so many people and while you were both still attached to others. But now? In privacy? Your heart is beating wildly out of time. “Please?”

Marcus is happy that his lips aren’t chapped, pressing them together and then parting them slightly. Watching you in wonder as he leans in.

The knock that comes just a second before your lips meet is probably the single most unwelcome interruption in history, and the disappointed sigh you let out when you hear your name called from the other side is practically a growl. "I'll be right there!" You call back, wishing you'd just hesitated slightly less and gotten to that kiss a touch faster.

He chuckles quietly and his own sigh of frustration is smothered. “Duty calls.”

"Hold that thought." You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and give him a gentle hug before turning around to shut off the electronics of your little surprise. He's still holding the rose bud with its trimmed stem, and you gently tuck it into his lapel with a smile. "I'll make it worth being interrupted, I promise."

“It’s okay, Birdie.” He uses your nickname for the first time. “You take care of what you need to.”

"If they're done it means it's time for dinner." It's still his friend's night, even if something has also happened here for you and for Marcus. "Come on." As much as you don't want to, you both have to go back out there. "Sydney made a ton of panzanella salad, giant pans of lasagna and these amazing parfaits of Madagascar vanilla panna cotta, raspberry jam, and pistachio brittle. I can't allow you to miss this dinner." It absolutely sucks to have to open the door, but you're practically beaming you're smiling so hard. "Sydney can't get over the fact that you were talking her up to José Andrés, by the way. I think you have a private chef for life."

“That sounds amazing.” He groans, having missed the last few meals due to traveling. “And I was only telling the truth.”

Coming out of the work shed, you see the wait staff starting to bring beer around to the table — as requested by the couple instead of wine or champagne with their casual rehearsal meal — and you nod toward the gazebo. “Go join your friends. I’m going to go check in in the kitchen and make sure Syd has everything under control.”

“Talk later?” He asks seriously, lifting a brow at you. There’s a lot to talk about obviously, but he does want to kiss you.

“If you want to stay late, I’m not going to be upset.” As soon as it’s out of your mouth you realize it could be taken as an overnight invitation, and while that wasn’t what you meant originally, you’re also not going to turn him away if he wants to stay the night. Apparently your old tendency to be fast-moving in potential relationships is back with gusto.

He smiles softly and nods, trying not to read into it, but he will be talking to you later.

Telling yourself you’re walking back to the main building at a reasonable pace, you know you’re racing when you bust in the back door and practically fling yourself into the kitchen as the waitstaff is bringing dinner out to the wedding party.

“There you are!” Sydney is rushing around, checking everything as she grins at you. “You disappeared on me.”

“Sorry.” In all honesty, you hadn’t expected things to go so well, and you were happily tucked away in a little vortex where time didn’t exist. “I lost track of time…talking to Marcus.”

“Oh!” She immediately stops and comes over to you. “How did it go?” She knows you’ve been worrying over possibly the most important conversation of your life.

Absolutely deadpan — or at least as close to it as you can get right now — you tilt your head at Sydney. "I'm firing your head server for interrupting us before he could kiss me."

“Done.” She snaps her fingers playfully. “Gone.” She insists. “Oh my god! He was going to kiss you! How did— so obviously he’s not upset, right? Unless it was going to be an angry kiss? But I don’t see Marcus being an angry kisser. Do you?” She’s rambling because she’s happy, ecstatic for you really. Now dreaming of a happily ever for you.

“It was definitely not angry.” Now that Syd is bubbling over too, you start giggling all over again. “We’re going to go out on Sunday, which means we’re spending like half the weekend together.”

“Half?” She snorts and shakes her head. “You mean all.” Holding up her hand she smirks. “Wedding Friday, you are going to attend and you know it.” She holds up one finger. “Then your birthday party.” She holds up another finger. “And now a date on Sunday.” She holds up three fingers altogether. “That’s all the days of the weekend, my love.”

"I will be working the wedding and seeing him for part of each day doesn’t mean he’ll want to see me all day." Even as primly as you try to present it, you know she's right, and the giggles boil over once again. "He's got the rose in his lapel and I can't wait for him to realize that it's the special kind that's been treated to last for years."

“And in return, he’s going to support you like you’ve never been supported before.” She snicker, beaming at you. Now that Sam is gone, she’s realizing how much more enthusiastic you are about the inn again. Like the zeal had been suppressed when you were with him. Or maybe planning this wedding is what has snapped you out of the funk.

“There was a dirty pun in there somewhere,” you observe, giving her a playful side eye. “Or maybe I just hope there was.”

She smirks and waggles her brows at you. “Are you needing a good romp, Birdie?” She asks playfully.

“Listen.” Wagging a finger at her, you blow out a breath and lower your voice, making sure no one else can hear you. “There nothing wrong with missionary. Nothing, as long as it’s done right. But a girl likes a little variety.”

“You mean you want your hair pulled while you’re railed from behind and he slaps your ass right above that dirty little tattoo and calls you his filthy, gorgeous little cum dumpster?” She winks wickedly at you.

Your deadpan expression comes back just long enough to tease her, and you put one hand on your best friend’s shoulder seriously. “Thanks for the insight into how my goddaughter was conceived.”

“You’re welcomed.” She snorts, laughing at herself. “I wel-cummed too!”

“Oh my Fuckin god.” Snorting, you turn away to grab your clipboard and try to compose yourself but are still laughing when you head for the door again. “Okay. I gotta back out there and pretend I’m not thinking about fucking that gorgeous man in the bathtub. Byyyyyeeee.”

“Byyyyyyyyeeee!” She afflicts the same tone you do and waves happily before diving back into making sure every dessert is perfect.

**

For a wedding that has been so fraught with stress, the rehearsal dinner goes perfectly. Dinner is delicious and by the end of the night, it’s obvious that Cameron and her soon-to-be husband are feeling both much more relaxed and more excited for their big day.

“Tonight is about you.” Marcus lifts his beer in a toast and smiles at them. “In two days, you will be married.” He chuckles. “And then I don’t want to see you in the office for two weeks.” He tells his agent fondly.

“She’ll be in good hands, I promise.” From the edge of the gazebo, you offer everyone a smile.

“You have planned everything perfectly.” Cameron smiles and stands quickly, walking over to hug you.

“It’s been my pleasure,” you assure her honestly, giving the very sweet bride a squeezing hug back. “I forgot how much I enjoy the hustle of wedding planning.”

“You have done such an amazing job. I would never know you didn’t do it all the time.” She promises you.

"I'm glad you're not upset to be stuck with second fiddle while Juan is out of town. I promise I consulted him every step of the way." The two of you exchange another hug as people start to get up from the table, all of them milling about and not quite ready to say good night. "You have a spa day tomorrow for your bachelorette right? Enjoy it."

“My mom is coming with me too.” For a moment, she looks like she’s going to cry again. Only happy tears though. “I can’t believe it.”

"Bask in that happiness, Joyce. You deserve it." Over the past two weeks it's become very routine for the two of you to check in with each other, and the text message thread you share has been as cram full of memes, music recommendations, and little affirmations as anything else. It's an unexpected start to a friendship, but a friendship nonetheless.

“I can’t believe Marcus called them.” Even hearing it from them again, she’s still in awe. Especially because they had changed their minds. “I just wish Michael’s parents would be here. That would make it perfect.”

"They might need a little more time to come around, but don't let that hold a cloud over your day." You squeeze her arms gently in both hands, prompting both of you to smile. "It's going to be a wonderful day no matter what. You get to marry the man you love. That's what matters."

“That is all that matters.” She smiles in that giddy, secretive way as her eyes automatically drift over to where her fiancé is talking with Marcus and her father. Looking a little more dreamy when she sees the man she will create a life with.

"Go on." Nudging her a little and grinning, you have to acknowledge that at least half your smile is for Marcus, but it's a private acknowledgement. "Have a fantastic day tomorrow and I'll see you Friday morning to start getting ready."

“I will.” She promises. “And when we come back, I want to take you and Sydney out to lunch. One that she doesn’t fix.”

"Deal. We'll want to hear all about the honeymoon anyway." As soon as you agree she's skittering off again, excitable and oh so ready to spend some time with her almost husband.

Somehow, Marcus has been talked into a round of golf with Cameron’s father and Michael tomorrow, although he’s not sure how that happened.

You don't butt in and don't eavesdrop, just quietly start clearing the table of dirty dishes and loading up trays with silverware and glasses to be brought back inside to clean. The party has already started slowly wandering across the lawn to the parking lot so you know it won't be too much longer before you can shut down and get upstairs. If Marcus is too tired after everything to want to talk tonight, you'll absolutely understand. It's not like you won't see him again in just two days' time.

Marcus says goodnight to everyone and looks around, finding another tray of dishes loaded up to take inside and he picks it up. Assuming you are already taking more back and he can help you clean up.

When he walks into the kitchen with a full tray to hand off to the dishwasher, your already bright smile gets impossibly bigger. “You’re a guest,” you remind him, lifting the tray from his hands and reveling in the tiniest touch of skin to skin regardless of how fleeting it is. “You don’t have to clean up.”

“And you shouldn’t have to do everything when I have two empty hands.” Marcus replies with a grin.

“As helpful as you are handsome.” Now that the line has been crossed — now that you can — flirting is probably going to bleed through into just about everything.

He doesn’t know exactly how to respond to that enthusiastic flirtation, so he just shrugs slightly, aware of how his cheeks are heating up. “I try.” Is all he can muster.

“Sorry,” you cringe for a second, realizing you might have stepped too far over that newly crossed line, and you bit your lip. “Too much?”

“No.” He shakes his head quickly, not wanting you to feel like you have done something wrong. “Not at all. It’s just—” he shrugs self-consciously again. “I liked it, a lot.”

“Okay.” The momentary pause with both of you smiling at each other like star struck idiots is broken by the sound of Sydney clearing her throat.

“Go,” she insists to you, even making a shooing motion with her hand. “We’ve got clean up. Go upstairs.”

“I— are you sure?” Marcus frowns slightly, aware that Sydney is pregnant and has to be tired.

“I have tons of help.” Motioning around the kitchen before she shoos you again, Syd considers his concern for her an extra mark in his favor, but insists. “Seriously, go on. And don’t let her do any more work tonight. She’s been going nonstop without the benefit of a whole staff to help her.”

“I won’t.” Marcus promises, looking back at you. “I’ll make sure she does nothing but relax.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” Sydney grins, throwing you a wink before turning back to the tray of things she was unloading.

He doesn’t know what all was said, but obviously there’s been a conversation between you and your best friend. “Do you want to buy a bottle of wine to take upstairs?” He suggests.

“Sounds perfect.” More than anything it implies that he wants to stay for a little while, and you’re very happy to hear that.

He figures that will let you relax; you can have some time to talk and then you can go to bed after he leaves. “Okay.” He smiles. “Any particular bottle you’re fond of?”

“I don’t know a whole lot about wine.” You had been trying to absorb whatever Sam had told you about a particular bottle or style, but it hadn’t been sticking well. “I’ve been sticking with sweeter wines, but if you have something you like I’d love to try it.”

“Sweet.” He decides it’s a perfect time to flirt back. “I’ll try to pick one that’s as sweet as you are.” He promises before he walks out of the kitchen to look at the wine rack.

"If you'll excuse me." Glancing over at Sydney, both of you grin at each other. "I'm going to go scream into a pillow about how cute that man is."

“Maybe you’ll scream into a pillow for a different reason.” She teases, throwing you another wicked wink. “Go get your soulmate, Tiger.”

While you absolutely would not mind, you don't think that's on the docket for tonight. Still, you smack a kiss on your best friend's cheek and head down the hallway to find Marcus coming out of the bottle room with a bottle of Riesling in hand. "Find something you approve of?"

“I think this will satisfy us both.” He hums, smiling at the sight of you. “Are you hungry? We could order something to be delivered.”

"I have the makings of an excellent charcuterie in my fridge upstairs, if you're interested?" While the wedding party ate, you picked minimally at a small bowl of salad and gotten some other things done, so a snack along with your wine sounds perfect. "If nothing there looks good to you, there are lots of places that deliver."

“I always love a good charcuterie.” Marcus admits, nodding easily. “As long as you are content. I notice you didn’t eat much and I’m sure you didn’t eat in the kitchen when you were running around.”

His caretaking tendencies are endearing, and since he had mentioned to you before that his ex wasn't a fan of them, you offer him a sincere smile. It's...sort of remarkable the way he notices things but you have to think that some of that comes out of his professional training. "You were supposed to be having fun, not keeping an eye on me," you chide gently as you walk together toward the elevator. Agent Bailey is keeping her distance but always present, trying to give you a bit of privacy while still doing her job.

“It’s hard not to notice a beautiful woman.” Marcus comes back easily. “Especially knowing what we know now, it’s impossible.” He isn’t going to rush you, not on the heels of a previous relationship, but he wants to get to know you. Learn more about his soulmate.

"That makes me feel slightly less self-conscious about always feeling like there's a magnet in my eyes whenever you're around," you admit. The elevator dings on the bottom floor, expelling two guests, and the three of you get in together once it's empty.

“I felt extremely guilty about how interested I was in you, from the very beginning.” He admits softly. “But I never would have said a word. That invitation to dinner was just a friendly invite.”

"That's all I took it as. And how I meant it when I accepted. It's just...that interest has always been there. For both of us, I guess." The ride to your apartment in the attic doesn't take long. It's only four floors, after all.

“Good. Soulmate or not, I don’t— cheating is not something I approve of or want to engage in.” He assures you. It’s not like being a soulmate would prevent cheating, there are still crappy human beings in the world.

"Cheating is really my biggest...I won't call it a trauma from earlier relationships, but definitely the issue that weighs most heavily on me. I absolutely do not and cannot condone it." The door to your apartment swings open easily and Agent Bailey steps inside to do her usual check of things before settling onto a chair by your door. Marcus has only been to your place once, but it's not exactly large so it's easy to see pretty much everything from the front entry. "My agents have free reign in my kitchen, also. Just...in case I never thought to mention that. I keep snacks they like on hand, and the coffee they like. Plus sometimes you might see a lunch bag or something on the bottom shelf. It's my home, but it's also their workplace, so I try to make sure they feel like they can be comfortable."

“That’s very nice of you.” He chuckles and glances at Agent Bailey. “I’m sure it’s appreciated. Sometimes eating during work is hard isn’t it?” She nods and he glances back at you. “Why don’t you go change into your comfy clothes and I’ll get everything?”

"There's platters and boards in the cabinet to the left of the refrigerator." On a more casual evening, you would have tipped your head back to kiss him, but something in your gut tells you that your first kiss with this man will be anything but casual and not to waste that little bit of magic. "I'll be right back."

“Take your time.” He smiles. “Agent Bailey can help if I need to find something.”

If it wasn’t the first time you’re spending time together like this, and if there wasn’t a Secret Service agent on hand, you might have gone into your room and found something slinky or lacy or otherwise revealing to put on. Slip into something a little more comfortable, as the movies always used to say. Instead, you trade your cigarette pants for a pair of yoga pants that you routinely sleep in, and trade the very tailored, carefully fitted blouse and push up bra for an old tank top that is soft on your skin and an oversized sweatshirt from Kings College, back when you were in London. The decision to wipe your makeup off and just be a bare, clean version of you is one you take very seriously. Some men expect their partners to be ‘on’ at all times and that isn’t you.

Marcus finds your kitchen to be small, but set up in a very easy to use kind of way. He follows your directions for the board, and opens the wine to let it breathe before diving into your fridge and small pantry to put together a board based off what you have. You were right, you have all the makings for an excellent board and he hums as he works.

It’s certainly less than ten minutes that you’re gone, but when you reappear again, Marcus has created a masterpiece of a board and fished two wine glasses out of your cupboard to boot. He looks so natural — standing there in your kitchen with his shirt collar hanging open and a look of deep concentration on his face as he works to twist slices of prosciutto into something resembling a knot or a flower — that it makes you downright emotional. In all the months you were with Sam, he had barely done more than fix you a cup of coffee.

Looking up when he senses movement, he beams at the sight of you all dressed down. Even more beautiful than you had been when he arrived. “How did you manage to do that?” He asks, abandoning the prosciutto to scoop up a wine glass and walk around the bar to bring it to you. “You look even better than you did when you walked into your room.”

“He prefers the casual look.” You beam at him, letting the heat in your cheeks burn the rest of your face as well. “Noted.”

“You are beautiful dressed up or dressed down.” He promises, smiling as he hands you the wine. “Go sit and I’ll bring the food over. The couch?”

“Perfect.” It seems like you’re saying that a lot, but your face is on fire with the compliment as you accept the wine glass from him and glance back at your living room. There are a few candles around just because you like the ambiance, and you quickly gather them to put out on your coffee table. When was the last time anyone had just…taken charge and spoiled you like this? Maybe years ago? Maybe never. It’s certainly not something Sam ever did — those situations always seemed to be you serving him and never about meeting in the middle or treating you. The realization stings, but only for a moment.

“I hope you don’t mind.” It takes him a second to gather up the board, his wine and the bottle, but he manages it before he starts to walk over. “I found a little bag of chocolate candies and I love having chocolate with cheese.”

“I don’t mind at all. You’re perfectly right about those two together.” The board he sets down looks like it belongs on the cover of a cookbook or a food blog, and it looks like he found your nearly-done jar of blackberry jam too, because there is a ramekin of it on the board next to some of your favourite sesame crackers. “This is…” It’s perfect, but since you keep using that word, you search for another. “It’s such an indulgence, and a beautiful one, too.”

He’s never described himself as someone who preens, but he definitely wallows in your praise just a bit. “I took a charcuterie board making class.” He explains. “I thought it would be a good date. Food, learning, wine. The date didn’t work out, but I enjoyed the class.”

“And you clearly absorbed everything they taught you.” Shifting over on the couch, you take the wine bottle from him and set it on a thick coaster before inspecting the magic he’s made of all the bits and pieces from your kitchen. “Thank you for this. I know you must be tired from traveling and everything, but I’m glad we actually have a chance to talk.”

“You’ve been busy too.” He reminds you softly, leaning over and nudging your shoulder gently. “Putting on a wedding in two weeks’ time with little help.” He huffs slightly. “I hope you know that’s not exactly what I had in mind when I called you for a favor.”

“I know it’s not.” The first sip of the wine you take is sharp and fruity up front, mellowing on your tongue and warming you through just seconds later. “But you wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important to you, and…you’re important to me. So I wanted everything to be perfect.”

He can’t help but give a pleased little hum in the back of his throat, covering it up by taking his own sip of wine. “I appreciate it, so much. You can see why it was important. Cameron— I guess I need to start calling her Joyce— and Michael are such good people.

“I wanted you to know you could count on me,” you admit, sitting forward to compose your first little bite. “And I ended up making new friends in the process.”

“I think that is probably the best part.” Marcus smiles as you pick and poke until you get the bite you want on your cracker.

A sesame cracker with creamy Brie and a little dab of Calabrian chili jam — not traditional, but an experiment of Syd’s — is first and you practically giggle at how well it all goes together. Even the sweet wine seems to be perfect with the spicy jam. “So…” The beginning of something like this, not that you’ve ever sat down to have a methodical chat with your soulmate before, feels important and intimidating. “Do you mind if we sort of lay things out in the proverbial table? Just kind of be open with each other going into this?”

“I think that would be the best way to handle things.” Marcus admits, hoping that the way you’ve phrased that isn’t some kind of ominous prelude of what’s to come. You surely wouldn’t flirt with him and then crush his hopes? He picks up his own cracker and puts a slice of very sharp cheddar and a fig onto it with a smear of the blackberry jam on top.

“We’ve already talked about wanting kids.” That day at Eastern Market has stuck in your mind, although you couldn’t have known then that it would become such an important topic for you. “And I…I’m actually looking forward to being married. To have a partner who is my confidante and my friend and my support as well as being along for whatever fun and mischief might come up in our lives. I just…my family means the world to me and the fact that I couldn’t see a future with Sam where we were equal partners in an equal marriage was one of the major reasons I knew it wasn’t going to work out.”

Marcus chews his bite, understanding what you are meaning. “So you are asking if I can handle the political, social spotlight and put up with the interferences that it might cause in our personal lives?”

“Partially.” You nod and go back in to build another bite. Serious conversations somehow always make you hungry, so this was a good idea. “I’m also asking if your dream or your future includes a wife who stays at home with the kids, because that isn’t a version of me that I have ever found realistic.”

Marcus laughs, shaking his head and reaching out to pick up a candy, offering it to you instead of eating it himself. “No.” He snorts. “God no, I’ve never had any dreams of having a wife at home to cook and clean, bring me my slippers or anything of the sort.” He assures you. “My parents both worked, my father was constantly traveling. My mother would sometimes work late. We had my family, family friends, babysitters to help her when he was gone. I know that this inn is important to you.” He stresses carefully. “What you decide to do, that is what I would want you to do.”

The chocolate drop is such a small offering physically, but the warmth is spreads through you to accept is something you can’t really describe. Marcus just puts you so at ease, even with small gestures. “I saw my father give things up to help my mother achieve everything she ever wanted,” you tell him honestly. “And while I know he’s happy, it isn’t what he dreamed of. And I’ve just always wanted to find a way to make sure my partner and I could both have our dreams come true.”

“My own dreams are pretty simple.” He shrugs. “I want an equal partnership. Kids. A healthy family dynamic where sometimes I have to take off work because the kids are sick, or you have to take them to work because I’m out of town. I like compromises.”

“Compromises are good.” The chocolate melts slowly on your tongue, mixing with wine and making you smile again. “I like traditions, too. Mixing your family traditions with mine and then coming up with some new ones all our own.”

“And I understand that for the next three to seven years, your family is….well, prioritized, for lack of a better word, and I’m okay with that.” He knows that there will be press obligations and holidays where you need to be present. He wouldn’t begrudge you that.

“You don’t mind Friday night family dinners, or a Secret Service detail, or the fact that people are going to feel entitled to know things about us or have opinions about us?” Sam had said he didn’t mind. And sometimes you thought he even basked in it a little, but the reality is that he doesn’t like things he can’t control. You just hope Marcus is willing to be a little more flexible.

“Do I love the idea of people judging our lives when they don’t actually know the details?” Marcus shrugs slightly. “No, but at the same time, I understand that it will happen. I’m not going to be upset at you for it.” He glances back at Agent Bailey who is comfortably sitting in a chair and trying to not listen in on your conversation. “Your detail is a necessary evil. I would never want you to get rid of them. I know the types of threats your family can receive.”

“My Dad’s already gotten a few.” Of course your mother has, but as the first female President she had expected that and has just handed the pertinent materials over to the Secret Service. “He just says it’s proof that Mom is a strong leader that some people also feel strongly against her. But that doesn’t have anything to do with you and me.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He can agree with that. “But some think that the sin of the mother, in this case…” he picks up a grape and offers it to you. “Are you worried I will hate it, or love it?”

“The attention?” Without even thinking, the bite of cheese and prosciutto in your hand instantly becomes his in exchange for the grape, like a reflex. Sharing easily and just instinctively giving things back and forth without worry. “I’m terrified that you’ll start to resent it and resent me by association.”

“Never happen.” He can promise you that with absolute certainty. “I am the son of a therapist, remember?” He teases lightly, tapping your nose. “I talk when things bother me. I don’t hide from them.”

“I’m the daughter of two lawyers, one of whom turned politician.” It’s impossible not to nudge toward him, the endearing little boop to your nose making you smile like an idiot all over again. “We’ll talk about it, but as soon as you’ve given me your opening statement I’ll have a cross-examination, a motivational monologue, and an emotional closing argument ready to go.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “You do realize that I’ve got quite a bit of experience on the stand, right?” He asks, picking up another cracker and recreating your first bite to hold out to you. He had enjoyed the way you moaned over it.

“And if I remember correctly, you said you also debated at the family dinner table.” This time you spread some of the goat cheese from the board onto a piece of baguette and top it with a chocolate drop for him to try. “So I think we’re going to be just fine and the communication front.”

“I don’t foresee any grand problems.” He agrees. “But if there are issues, we talk and work them out.”

“I completely agree,” you even nod as you hold the bite out for him to try.

He takes the bite out of your hand, just leaning forward and eating from your hand. “Oh that’s good!”

The casual intimacy of the gesture and the slightly cavewoman-esque feeling of feeding and giving life being connected aren’t exactly things you expected to mix so easily. But here you are squirming in your seat and trying not to set on fire with it. “Damn it, Marcus,” you laugh despite yourself.

“What?” The question is innocent enough, but Marcus has enough experience to know what he’s doing to you. The slight smirk twisting his lips giving him away.

“You’re a tease,” you huff, pouting at him animatedly.

“I’ve been called that before.” He admits, picking up another cracker and putting together another little morsel for you as a peace offering. “Do you not like that?”

The slight snicker and smirk you have for him is good natured, and it turns into a wry smile. “I like it better when I’m allowed to climb the offending teaser like a tree.”

Your words hit him like a ton of bricks and he would be lying if his body didn’t immediately react. “Yeah?” His voice is a little raspy choking out the word. “You’d like that, huh?”

“I’m not planning on rushing you,” you assure him, but you still put down your wine glass. “You did just get out of a relationship.”

“As did you.” He points out, leaning back and staring at you, trying to gauge your position on this.

“I did.” It’s nearly a standoff now, but not in a hostile way. Just in a way where you’re both wondering who will break first. “So I’m not saying we should sleep together right away, but I still really want to kiss you.”

“Can I be completely honest?” Marcus asks, almost a little ashamed of even having to admit this.

“I prefer it.”

Reaching for your hand, he chuckles slightly. “I really want to kiss you too. And more….but I just flew in less than an hour before I got here.” He reminds you. “I’m afraid that I would not be at my best if we did anything tonight and I would like to make a good impression the first time.”

“That’s completely fair.” And actually makes you laugh a little. Not because you’re laughing at him but because it’s so human. “So we’ll come to it when we’re ready. And when we’re well rested.”

“I don’t want you to think that I’m not interested, because I am.” He promises. “But I also don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of learning your body.”

“Well when you put it like that, I don’t want that either.” The smile curving your lips and cheeks is bright, though, and you set one hand gently on his knee. “If you need to go home, I’m not going to be offended.”

The hours that he’s been awake are starting to settle onto his shoulders and the half glass of wine makes him sleepy. “Are you sure?” He asks softly. “I was supposed to be taking care of you and putting you to bed slightly wine drunk and relaxed.”

"I promise." A gentle squeeze of his leg is a small sign of affection, but a very real one. "You've taken care of me beautifully and this is the most relaxed I've felt in ages."

“Good.” He hums, pleased with that. It’s all he wants to do, to be a good partner and give you what you need.

"If you're already exhausted, you can crash here?" It comes out more like a question than you meant it to, but that's because you realize that you don't actually know how much he had to drink at dinner. Not that Marcus seems drunk to you at all, but everyone is affected by alcohol differently. And you don't want him on the road if he's sleepy and still a little tipsy.

Just the idea of it makes Marcus nearly yawn, sleep that much closer to being a reality. But he still has to protest slightly. “I don’t want to impose…”

"It's not imposing if I offer." You remind him, feeling the sweetness of the moment sort of float down over it like a warm blanket. "I can bring some spare blankets and pillows out here to the couch, or you can come snuggle up in bed with me. It's up to you." The fact is, it's late. And you have a wedding to put on in two days. So maybe it's not sleeping with him for the first time in the traditional sense, but it's definitely intimate in the kind of way that you want to be able to share with him. Either way, you still get to be near him.

“It’s a twenty-minute drive, but honestly I don’t know if I can make it.” He sighs. “I’ll sleep wherever you want me to. How does that sound?”

"I want you in my bed," you admit without apology. "But you deserve rest instead of a handsy girl cuddling next to you. So go use the bathroom and I'll clean up out here and grab you some blankets and a spare pillow. Do you have to go into the office tomorrow?"

Marcus huffs out a sleepy laugh, his battery rapidly draining now that he’s admitted how tired he is. “Worse.” He groans. “We have a seven AM tee time and then I have to go to the office.”

"Who are you golfing with at seven in the morning?" Lifting yourself up off the couch and starting to gather things up, you leave Marcus's wine glass with its last few sips for him to finish if he wants to. The current plan is to wrap this board up in some plastic and have the remains for lunch tomorrow.

“Michael and Joyce’s father.” He moans. “Michael asked me to join, thinking it would be a good buffer, given the fragile relationship.”

"It makes sense, but that's a hell of an early morning." When he follows you into the kitchen with both of your wine glasses, you smile at the padding sound of his shuffled steps. He's definitely tired. "So you golf, then?"

“Not particularly well.” Marcus snorts. “But I’ve had to learn since a lot of directors like to have meetings on a golf course.”

"My Dad used to take us mini golfing when we were kids." The two of you work slowly but in a good rhythm and get things put away easily. "Believe it or not, Junie is the one who really took to it. It's their bonding thing, and she goes putting as a stress relief thing. I vastly prefer yoga."

“I probably need yoga.” Marcus laughs. “But I normally just run.”

"You'd love my yoga class." You finish the last sip of your wine and set your glass on the side of the sink to be washed tomorrow. "I go to puppy yoga once a week."

“Puppy yoga?” That has Marcus both intrigued and confused, thinking that he’s tired enough to be having auditory hallucinations.

"A room full of grown ass adults doing gentle yoga poses with cute little puppies running around the room for the whole hour." When he hands over his glass you put it next to yours and take a quick inventory of things in the kitchen just to make sure that you're all set for the next day. "It's the most relaxing silliness you could possibly ask for."

“That sounds adorable.” He admits with a small smile. “And chaotic at times.”

"Best way to spend a Thursday night in the world." You reach out easily, rubbing Marcus's arm softly. "Go get ready for bed. I'll grab those blankets for you."

“I’m sorry.” He feels guilty, very guilty, that he can’t stay up all night talking to you. However, it’s technically five in the morning in London and he hadn’t slept much the night before. Just an hour or so, and then he couldn’t sleep on the plane. So he is just completely gassed.

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Promising him that is easy, like promising the wind that you appreciate its breeze. "I get the feeling that you don't let a lot of people take care of you the way you take care of everyone else. So allow me to be the one person who gets that privilege. At least for now?"

“Can’t be disappointed when no one will if you don’t let them.” He’s so tired it pops out of his mouth without realizing he’s said it, his inner monologue gone.

The utter shock to your system is as much about the hurt in his voice as anything else, and in less than a heartbeat you're wrapping your arms around him to hug him more tightly than you probably mean to. This gentle, sweet, kind man just...put up his walls a lot closer to himself than most other people do to keep his heart guarded from the very worst hurts, and that makes you ache. "I'm sorry people have disappointed you before. But I'm going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Shit. “I didn’t mean to say that.” He sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t move away from the hug though, slightly leaning into it.

"I was going to do my best to take care of you anyway," you tell him, overwhelmed in the honesty of the moment. "The only difference is now you know I'm doing it. That's not so bad, right?"

“No.” He can’t deny you, not right now. “Thank you.” He murmurs quietly.

"Come on, honey." When his arms loosen after a few moments, you turn into his side to walk with him. "Let's get you ready to sleep."

“God, I’m sorry.” He snorts. “Think I’ve had…three hours sleep in the last forty-eight hours?” It’s almost a question and he can’t quite calculate it.

"That's alright. I'm just glad I didn't send you out onto the road this tired." You never would have forgiven yourself if anything had happened to him, so you're doubly glad that he agreed to stay.

Getting ready for bed is relatively quick. You give him a spare toothbrush and he cleans up quickly for someone so tired. Eager to sleep. Two extra blankets and a spare pillow from your bed make the couch cozy enough, and you lean over to press a kiss to his cheek before leaving him to get comfortable. "Good night," you hum the words, finding his sleepy state endearingly cute but not wanting to tease him about it. "Soulmate."

“Goodnight.” The good thing about Marcus is he can sleep anywhere. Your couch is far superior to the one in his office and he’s almost asleep as his head settles into the pillow. “My beautiful soulmate.” His eyes are already closed. “Can’t believe you’re mine.” He whispers.

______

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[daisies-daydreams]

Office Hours - Chapter 3 (Professor!Miguel O'Hara x F!College Student!Reader)

Pairing: Professor!Miguel O’Hara x F!College Student!Reader Category: Smut (18+) with a pinch of angst Warnings: Phone/Video Sex, Dirty Talk, Mutual Masturbation, Panty Sniffing Word Count: 2.3k+

Summary: Miguel rewards you for working so hard.

A/N: Finally finished with chapter 3! Wrote this one by the seat of my pants ngl. I hope you enjoy! (Next chapter will be even spicier, hehe).

Ch. 2 <- -> Ch. 4

Your face was glowing as you walked down the hall. Halloween decorations lined the halls despite it being nearly Thanksgiving (not that you were complaining). You hummed as you slotted your key into the door before stepping inside. Your bright expression fell when you saw a familiar Brit sitting in your kitchen alongside your roommate.

“Hey,” he said with a small wave, a deck of cards in his other hand.

"Hi," you replied as you closed the door behind you. You hung your coat up before kicking your shoes off.

“How’d your meeting with O’Hara go? He was a real hardass when I saw him during his office hours,” Gwen piqued. Your entire body stiffened as your face went blank. Hobie shifted in his chair, a small smirk stretching across his face. You swallowed. 

“O-Oh, you know…that man is never pleased,” you stammered as you waved your hands. Hobie pursed his lips as Gwen sighed. 

“Sorry, sis. Just don’t take it personal-I heard he’s been like that for the past year or so,” she replied as you made your way towards the fridge. You snagged a protein shake before shutting the door with your hip. 

“Where’d you hear that?” you asked. Gwen hummed as she shifted her cards around.

“One of my friends who had him last semester had to retake the course this year,” she explained. She suddenly narrowed her eyes at Hobie. He returned her expression with raised brows. “I call bluff,” she said. His rolled his eyes.

“Damn, you’re good,” Hobie muttered as he laid his cards down with quiet defeat. You couldn’t help but grin as your roommate took a pile of chips from him.

“Anyway, she said that O’Hara actually used to be nice,” Gwen said. 

“He is!” you blurted out. Both of them stared at you as your ears burned. “I mean…I’m sure he is, sometimes,” you muttered. Hobie raised a brow while Gwen shrugged. You glanced down at your phone. “Alright. Guess I’ll go finish my homework,” you said as you walked towards your room. 

“Have fun," Gwen snorted. "Oh! Hobie and I have a gig tonight so no wild parties!” she jested. 

“Okay mom!” you teased and poked your tongue out before closing the door behind you. You smiled as soon as you saw the sweet sanctuary of your bed. You instantly collapsed on top of your cozy comforter as your bag fell next to you.

You smiled into the soft fabric before pulling your phone out. You blinked when you brushed your hand against a bright post-it note. You plucked it from your bag before your heart stopped.

A phone number with Miguel's name was hastily written on the piece of paper. You bit your lip as you peeked at your phone. You snatched it before quickly typing his number in, your heart trembling as your finger shook over the message button.

“Hey-“

No. 

“Hi-“ 

No. 

You huffed as you tried to think of the perfect thing to say. Your mind was still fuzzy from the earth-shattering orgasm he gave you, your thoughts muffled behind your glossy eyes. You sighed as you rolled over, the skirt of your dress starting to bunch up as you typed into your phone. 

“Hi. This is (Y/N) :)” you typed. You bit your lip so hard it stung as you glanced at the send button. You swallowed the heavy lump in your throat before you squeezed your eyes shut and hit it. You opened your eyes and squeaked as you chucked it away. You scooted down your bed, your heart pounding in your ears as you stared down your phone.

Nothing.

You sighed and let your head fall onto your pillow. Your eyelids felt so heavy, body still shimmering with afterglow. Maybe a small nap wouldn't hurt. After all, it's been a long day and-

DING.

You shot up as you scrambled over to your phone, hands trembling as you opened the message. 

“Good to hear from you again, conejita,” Miguel replied [bunny]. You sat on the edge of your bed as you watched three dots bounce up and down. “Finish your homework already?” he asked. Your face hardened a little as you crossed one leg over the other. 

“Not yet,” you replied with a frown. You waited a few minutes before your phone dinged again. 

“Be a good girl and finish your homework first, then you'll get your surprise,” he texted back. Your heart skipped a beat as you bit your lip. 

“Okay. I’ll try not to be too long, then ;)” you replied. You snatched your laptop from your bag before getting to work. You sat on your bed cross-legged for what felt like hours as you typed away on your computer, sipping on your protein shake every once and a while. You heard your phone ding again. 

“A little sneak peak…for motivation,” Miguel texted. Your jaw nearly dropped when you saw a picture of him raising his shirt up to reveal a pack of his chiseled abs.

You wanted so badly to rake your fingers through each divot and crevice of his muscular body. You swallowed when you saw a trimmed patch of black hair running down from his belly button to beneath his pants. You couldn’t help but notice your thong hanging from one of his pockets. 

You hummed to yourself as you considered sending him a photo in return before there was a knock at your door. You nearly dropped your phone, scrambling to hide it behind your pillow as Gwen cracked the door open.

“We’re heading out. Want anything from Monty’s?” she asked. You shook your head as you clutched your comforter. 

“I’m good,” you said, hoping she didn’t notice how your voice cracked. Gwen nodded, her short, blonde hair bobbing with her head. 

“Okay. See you later!” she said. You sighed as she started to close the door, only to nearly kick your laptop across your room when she opened it again. “Don’t study too hard! Make sure to take a break,” she winked. You nodded, your eyes widening as you felt your phone buzz again. Your roommate gave you a bright smile before she shut the door behind her. You released a long sigh as you threw your head against the wall. 

Your mind felt numb as you dug around for your phone. You bit your lip as you opened a message from him, your heart stopping when you saw the image of his tongue swiping over the crotch of your panties. 

“I can’t wait to see what the rest of you tastes like,” he wrote. Your mouth went dry as you sucked in a sharp breath. Your core felt like it was buzzing as you began to type a message before pausing. You still haven’t finished your homework.

You gripped your phone when a thought crossed your mind. You bit your lip as you spread your legs, the cool air hitting your slick pussy lips as you angled your phone. Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as you quickly snapped a picture. You held your breath as you typed in a message. 

“Here’s a little sneak peak…for motivation,” you typed. You bounced your leg as you sent it, quickly hiding your face in your pillow. Silence loomed in the air before you finally sat up and sighed. You finished a few more equations before your phone buzzed again. You glanced over, your body tending as you eyed your phone. You glanced at the message: 

“Traviesa” [Naughty]

You giggled as you heard his husky voice sneer in your mind. You wiggled on your bed, a wave of lust suddenly washing over you as you imagined him pleasuring himself to your lewd image. You gently rocked your hips back and forth before stopping yourself. 

Focus. 

You shook your head as you blinked a few times, retraining your eyes to your laptop. You furiously typed on the keyboard as thoughts of Miguel bombarded your mind. Him bending you over your kitchen counter, folding you in half on your bed. It felt like hours before you finally finished. 

“Fucking finally,” you breathed as you closed your laptop. You sighed as you rubbed your eyes, your mind completely spent. You jumped when you heard your phone ding after a few minutes. 

“Did you finish your homework, cariño?” Miguel asked. Your eyes lit up as you replied. 

“Yes”. Your heart thumped as you waited, your face leaning towards the screen. You squeaked when your video chat ringtone started to play. You scrambled to grab your phone before hastily swiping it away. Your limbs turned to jelly as you saw him staring into your screen, his head propped up by his palm. His perfect, chiseled chest was on display, his muscles shifting as he slid his glasses off. 

“Hi,” he smiled with a half-lidded gaze. You flushed as you returned his grin. 

“Hi,” you said as you wiggled your shoulders a little. Your professor’s face softened as he suddenly stepped back. Your jaw nearly dropped when you saw a dark happy trail lead down to his flushed cock.

“I think you’re ready for your reward now, hermosa,” Miguel lilted [beautiful]. You nodded quickly, making him chuckle. “Ser paciente-I want you to do something for me real quick,” he added [Be patient]. You bit your lip and waited with  anticipation. Miguel leaned closer to his camera. 

“I want you to prop your phone up and spread your pretty legs for me,” he murmured. Your eyes widened as you saw his cock throbbing between his muscular legs, his flush tip oozing with precum as he squeezed his shaft.

You let out a quiet moan before crawling on your bed, grabbing a few throw pillows and placing your phone against them. Every touch against your blanket felt like fire as you hiked up your skirt, revealing your glistening pussy to him. 

“Mmm there’s my pretty girl,” he groaned as he swiped his thumb over his dripping slit. You released a shaky breath as you slowly pulled your labia apart, your fingers slathered in your slick as you gently rubbed your clit. Miguel grunted as he wrapped his fist around his thick cock. “That’s it, cariño: keep playing with that cute little pussy of yours,” he inhaled sharply. 

“Miguel,” you whined as he bucked into his palm, his heavy balls slapping against the side of his hand as he moaned. You threw your head back against the wall as you drew tight circles around your bundle of nerves, making sure he had a good angle of seeing how engorged it was. Miguel’s eyes glistened as he grunted, his jaw clenching as he watched you slide a finger up and down your drenched slit. 

“Ay, coño,” he breathed as he pumped his girthy shaft [Oh, fuck]. You whimpered as you heard the soft squelch of your pussy, your fingers sliding along your folds as you rubbed your clit a little faster. 

“Shit, daddy,” you moaned. Your jaw dropped at your own words as you gasped. 

“Daddy, hm?” Miguel clicked his tongue as gazed straight into the camera. You stammered, your cheeks filling with heat as your chest tightened. He licked his lips as he stepped closer to the camera. “I prefer Papi if that’s alright with you, princessa,” he murmured lowly [Daddy; princess]. You gulped and nodded before pinching your clit, a small whine leaving your lips. His eyes lit up with hunger.

“Why don’t you stretch yourself open with those pretty fingers of yours, hm?” he purred. You couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled past your lips as you nodded. His breathing grew heavier as you slipped the pads of your digits over your tight entrance. You stared into the camera as you parted your lips, slowly pushing two digits inside your gushing hole. 

“Fuck, look at how tight you are,” Miguel sucked in a sharp breath . You pumped your digits in and out of your walls, each stroke leaving you dizzier with each passing second as you imagined his thick fingers stuffing your warm cunt. 

“Yes, Papi!” you mewled as you curled your fingers against your g-spot. Miguel groaned as he rubbed his shaft. 

“S-Sí, muñeca. Keep making those-mierda!” the man released a guttural growl as his cock twitched [Yes doll; shit]. You gasped as you watched ropes of thick, hot cum spill from his cock and down his large hand.

Your walls suddenly clamped down on your digits as you cried out, his name falling from your lips like a mantra as you reached inside your snug pussy. Your head rolled the side as pleasure washed over your entire being, enrapturing you in a state of pure bliss. 

“Miguel, Miguel,” you chanted as you felt your muscles contract and squeeze around your slick fingers. You swallowed thickly as the last of your release faded, blinking slowly as you focused your attention back to the screen. You frowned when you saw tears streaming down Miguel’s sharp cheeks, his bottom lip sticking out a bit. 

“Miguel?” you asked as you went to reach for your phone. He flinched like a wounded animal being cornered, his pupils constricted and face tight. Miguel released a low, stuttering breath before glancing into the camera. 

“I-I’m sorry, (Y/N). I have to go,” he muttered as he looked away. Before you could reply, the call was suddenly disconnected. You sat there, the warmth of your afterglow slowly fading as you stared at your blank phone screen.

----

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[makeyoumine69]

Call Me Babydoll 3

— PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: This game of cat and mouse between you and Patrick continues, and it seems that his patience is thinning. During a very heated makeout session, Patrick finds out about a shameful secret of yours.

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom Patrick, semi-public masturbation (female receiving), Patrick being an asshole (as always), cursing, use of pet names (babydoll, etc), mentions of food, a little bit of corruption kink, Daddy kink, dry humping, dirty talk, nipple tugging/sucking/biting.

— WORDS: 3.3k

— A/N: Hey guys, thanks a lot for your support and patience! I'm so happy you like my story and I hope you enjoy this chapter too!🤞

— LINKS: [Ch.2]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]; [buy me a coffee]💓

Your favorite local café welcomed you with the invigorating aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Despite the fact that it was quite crowded tonight, you couldn't stop smiling because you had been dreaming about that delicious cup of cappuccino since the morning.

"I can't believe you dragged me into this shithole," Patrick scowled in disgust, ignoring all the curious glances from the group of women sitting at the table next to the exit. "I was ready for anything but this..."

"You could just send your driver after me if you didn't want to leave Manhattan," you unbuttoned your coat, took it off and casually handed it to Bateman — the poor guy didn't even know how to react, so he just took it and held it over his hand. "Why don't you buy me a cup of coffee? They make a great cappuccino and latte here."

You accompanied your words with a brief lick over your lips that Patrick couldn't miss, his nostrils flaring with heat. With a mischievous smile, you pointed in the direction of display cases full of various desserts like cakes, pies etc. 

"Do you want one?" You asked him, pressing a finger to your lips as you thought about the cake you wanted to try.

"No," he growled, but followed your gaze anyway, staring at the different cakes with a disapproving expression. "I'm on a diet, and I'd advise you to stop eating such junk food since…since your physique is far from good."

No matter how much Patrick tried to mock you, you wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing you affected by his words. You knew your body was not perfect, but you loved yourself anyway because it was your body and anyone who thought otherwise could fuck off.

"Oh yeah, you're right," you glared at him without ceasing to smirk. "But that didn't stop you from pouncing on me the day you visited my father."

"You can think what you want," Bateman replied, looking around with undisguised hostility at everyone who walked past you, especially guys who ogled you. "If it makes you feel better."

It appeared like you could continue this game of trying to cut each other with sharp words forever, but since you were quite hungry, you finally decided what you wanted to try today. Innocently batting your big eyelashes, you suddenly grabbed his hand, shaking noticeably at the size of his palm in comparison to yours, and led him to the barista who was standing on the other side of the counter.

"Hi, how can I help you?" A young girl asked you, her friendly smile widening as she saw Patrick behind your back. 

"I'd like a large cappuccino with a piece of chocolate cake," you murmured before locking eyes with Bateman — the difference in your heights almost forced you to stand on your toes, but as soon as you did, he gently wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his chin on top of your head, making your heart skip a beat. "Pat-Patrick, are you sure you don't want anything?"

"Do you have any whiskey? Scotch, brandy or anything?" He asked, his other hand already fumbling with his black leather wallet.

"Uh, no, sir," the barista replied, a little embarrassed. "But we do have amazing teas…lots of different kinds," the girl hiccuped when she saw Patrick's hand shamelessly tracing up to your breast, squeezing it through the soft fabric of your long sleeve, and you didn't even make a sound or try to push his hand away. "W-we also have juices..."

"Mhm, juices sound good to me," the undertone in his words set your body on fire and you couldn't fucking believe he was doing it right in front of the poor barista in the fucking café. "Do you have the orange juice? Is it fresh? I love fresh juice, it tastes so delicious."

Holy shit.

"Yes! Yes, of course we have orange juice," she started to dial on the cashier, her cheeks turning red by the second. "So a cappuccino, a piece of chocolate cake and a glass of juice?"

"That's right." You confirmed in a shaky voice and gently covered Patrick's hand to bring it back to your waist. 

Bateman didn't wait for the barista to say how much they should have paid, he just offered her a hundred dollar bill with a charming smile. "Keep the change, baby." He winked at her, watching your reaction from a distance, but you remained still. "Uh, thank you, sir. Please take a seat, I'll bring you your order."

At first, you thought you'd have to persuade Patrick to sit at a table, but to your surprise he didn't even say anything, just followed you until you chose the place you liked. In a few minutes, your coffee was in your hand and your mood brightened with the first sip of your favorite drink.

"Well, that barista is the only good thing about this shitty place," he grumbled, taking his drink and swiveling it in his hand to see the liquid splashing against the edges of the glass. "I hope I don't die trying this."

With that, he sipped the orange juice and looked over your shoulder to see some random girls at the table next to yours, gossiping and occasionally looking at you.

"This cake is amazing," you smiled as you took a bite. "Are you sure you don't want some?"

Your calm demeanor was oddly irritating to him, and Bateman just growled in reply before setting his glass back on the table with a thud. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," your tongue slipped along the fork, and you almost moaned with pleasure, this cake was so damn yummy. "Did I…miss something?"

"You did," Patrick suddenly took the cigar and the silver lighter out of his jacket pocket. "One thing I don't understand. Why do you visit such places, since your father is not a poor man?"

Frowning, you quickly cleared your throat before answering. "What does that have to do with my dad?" 

Patrick opened the lighter with a click and wrapped his lips around the cigar, twisting it nonchalantly before lighting it. "In this world," he paused, blowing several rings of smoke. "Money is power."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, suddenly losing all appetite. "Oh, please, don't lecture me. I have a job and I don't need anyone to give me money. Believe me."

"I see."

"Money is just a tool," you explained, his walnut eyes never straying from yours. "With which you can build something that can make you happy. But money itself cannot make you happy."

"What an interesting hypothesis," Bateman replied sarcastically, and then, puffing on his cigar, he reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small, soft box. "Here, I have something for you."

How primitive and obvious — you thought, but curiosity took over, and you quickly grabbed the box to open it. To your surprise, there was a beautiful pen with a color that reminded you of white gold.

"Oh," an unexpected chill swept over you like a bucket of cold water. "This is such a beautiful pen. But…but how did you…?" You took the pen in your hand, enjoying the pleasant touch of cool metal. "...my Dad told you this too?"

"What? That you wanted to be a writer and publish your own book?" He chuckled and put the cigar in the ashtray. "Well, he told me that you work in a publishing house, so I made some theories about your job and I thought you should at least have a good pen."

"At least?"

With a smug grin, he tilted his head to the side and ran his finger along the top of your hand holding a pen. "Do you like it?"

Embarrassed, you swallowed a lump in your throat and looked up at his arrogant face.

Damn it! Of course you like it, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't.

"Yes, Patrick," his name falling from your lips sounded like music to his ears. "This pen is amazing, really. I've never had a pen like this before!" You rumbled like a child who got a toy he dreamed about. "Can I try it?"

Bateman couldn't help but giggle and squeezed your hand a little before pulling away. "Sure, go ahead."

You didn't hesitate to take out your notebook, set it down on the table next to your coffee, and opened it to the last page you'd written. Carefully, you picked up the pen again and began to write. 

"I wonder what you girls write about in your diaries," he chirped with a boyish smile, rubbing his neck just above the mole. "Always wondered."

"It's not a diary, it's the notebook I use for my work," as you lifted your eyes to him, you noticed how relaxed and comforted Patrick looked now, casual even. "But I do have a diary…it helped me a lot during my darkest days."

There was a brief pause between the two of you after your words. Bateman wasn't in a hurry to resume the conversation, instead he continued to smoke, glancing at the window from time to time.

"The rain could start at any moment, if you don't want to get wet," he paused and a nervous laugh escaped from his chest. "I mean, if you don't want to get your clothes wet, we'd better go home soon."

Oh my God, why was he so fucking unbearable?

"Okay, just a minute," you admired your handwriting for a moment before rolling up your sleeves to make yourself more comfortable. "I'm shocked at how this pen fits in my hand."

Patrick's eyes narrowed as he saw the beautiful tattoo on your forearm. "I never knew you had a tattoo."

"Really?" You pressed the tip of the pen to the corner of your lips and threw one leg over the other. "That's not the only tattoo I have," you could see the interested glint in his brown eyes, so you decided to continue. "Have you at least noticed my nose ring?"

"I'm trying to pretend you don't have it," he urged, putting his cigar out on the ashtray. "To be honest, tattoos and piercings and stuff like that are not…my thing."

That was not surprising, so you just hummed and continued writing. "Yeah, I know guys like you only date blonde bimbos with fake tits."

Bateman chuckled softly at your words. "Oh, Babydoll, you don't have to be jealous. It's just that high society women don't spoil their perfect bodies with stuff like that." He pointed at your tattooed forearm before standing up to put on his coat. "'C'mon, it's getting late, and I've got a lot of things to do."

"Like what?"

"This," he paused as he buttoned his coat. "It's none of your business, sweetheart."

"'Mmm, your poor girlfriend is probably waiting for you," you clicked your tongue before tucking the notebook into your bag. "Just don't tell her you were here with me, or she won't let you cross the threshold of her apartment again. Patrick Bateman visited the cheap café in Brooklyn. How did it happen?"

Bateman stared at you like a cat ready to pounce, though his face remained straight. "The limo's outside, I'll wait for you there."

No, you were not disappointed, you were furious at how masterfully he thwarted all your attempts to needle him. At the end of the day, he was just treating you like a silly little girl, but you had your own leverage because you knew that he wanted you, that he thirsted for you, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual mask that he always put on when he was in public. Yes, yes. It was a dangerous game to play, but the thrill of the rush was so tempting, the irresistible urge to dive into the abyss of the unknown. It was crazy, and you knew that one day you would burn like a moth flying to the light, and you could only ask yourself — was the game worth the candles?

Inside the limousine, you couldn't take your eyes off of the beautiful interior; the luxury was almost palpable in the air.

"Is this your first time in a limo?" Bateman asked when he noticed your curious look. 

"Uh, to be honest, I used to ride in pretty expensive cars with Dad, but not the limo," you turned to face him, his side profile looking amazing in the dim light. "And you were probably born for cars like this, right?"

His deep chuckle echoed around the car. Cautiously, Patrick closed the distance between the two of you and placed his warm palm on your knee, stroking it as gently as he could. 

"My family is fabulously wealthy, it's true," he began, turning in your direction, a broad smile forming on his perfectly sculpted face when he noted that you didn't try to remove his hand. "But that doesn't mean it's the only necessary condition to become successful."

"It does," you replied immediately, fidgeting in your seat as his hand slid up along your inner hip. "Because if you are born in such a family — all doors are open for you, you can apply to any college, any university...even if I don't agree that money is happiness, money is, as I said, a key that opens many doors."

"But not yours?" He whispered into your ear, scorching your tender skin.

"W-what?" You hiccuped and sensed your heart pounding against your chest.

For a brief moment, the two of you found yourselves looking into each other's eyes, the surrounding air as hot as if the limousine had suddenly driven around the mouth of a volcano. As Patrick pulled you closer, you understood that the source of this unbearable heat was his body — so strong and huge. In the blink of an eye, your lips locked together in a thirsty kiss, and Bateman immediately parted your mouth wider, sliding his tongue inside to take the lead in this lewd game.

"Mhm," you murmured through the kiss, wrapping your trembling hands around his neck while he worked to undo your coat. "Pat..."

Patrick didn't let you finish whatever you wanted to say because the blazing desire had already consumed his mind, and now it was your turn to get scared. You thought you could play with this man, test his limits and try to provoke him, but now you ended up writhing on the seats of the expensive limousine as his chiseled arms explored your small frame so delightfully, kneading and squeezing in all the right places.

"Ugh, you're so needy," he grabbed your throat possessively, pulling you closer, marking you with his tongue, his lips, his teeth. "You should see yourself, honey," Bateman murmured, alternating between licking your cheek and nibbling your neck. "So innocent, yet so hot, and all for me."

With one swift motion, he removed your coat and forced you to mount him, groping your ass without shame. Right now you didn't care about the driver who might see you doing this, you didn't care about all your stupid attempts to taunt him, because everything ended up exactly as you planned, even if Patrick might think otherwise, but let it be.

Growling in a raspy voice, Patrick lifted your long sleeve to quickly get under your bra and damn it, his mouth felt amazing on your engorged nipple and you couldn't deny that you had been thinking about this sensation all these days since that dirty episode in your bedroom.

"Patrick," you moaned, bringing him closer, his strong tongue swirling around your little tip as he stared at you from under his beautiful lashes. "A-aww, that feels so..."

"Good?" He asked in amusement, unbuttoning his coat. Then he grabbed your hips to make you grind against his hard groin, the friction making you wild. 

"Yes, y-yes." You hitched from the hard slap on your ass. 

"Arrghh, such a nasty Babydoll," Bateman left a painful hickey on your nipple and held you close in his sturdy arms, forcing you to move faster. "Is this what you want, huh? You want Daddy's cock so bad?"

Oh shit.

You wanted to say "yes," but instead you just whimpered against his mouth, not willing to ruin the moment with a confession that you were a virgin. 

"Daddy," you purred suddenly as he cupped your pussy through the tight fabric of your jeans. "Oh God...did I really say that?"

His devilish grin spoke for itself. "That sounded so good," he kissed you hard on the lips before returning to your swollen breasts, his sneaky hand beginning to unzip your jeans with expert ease. "I liked that."

Having said that, Patrick pressed you closer, lifting his hips to meet yours so that your mound rubbed against his fully erected cock, and you could swear to God —  it was so damn huge that your inner muscles were already cramping in pain.

"Babydoll," he crooned in a sweet voice when he noticed you were getting anxious as he slipped his hand inside your pants, outlining your oozing lower lips through your soaked panties. "Fuck, I can smell your arousal in the air."

"Aww!" Your high-pitched wail bounced off the interior of the limo from the sudden touch of his thumb on your bare skin, especially your throbbing clit. "Pat-Patrick...Patrick!"

"Shhhh, honey," he cooed to you, his voice laced with pure passion. "Daddy knows what he's doing...mmm...gonna make you feel so good."

Paralyzed by the new sensations, you arched your back into his face, letting him take your hard peak into his mouth once again, while his thin fingers rubbed invisible semi-circles into your bundle of nerves, smearing your flavor around your folds. 

"Good girl...you're so good for me," he praised you between sucks on your nipples, watching you tremble on top of him. "Let it go, Babydoll, I know you want it."

Fucking hell! How in the world did this man manage to treat you so right, as if he played you like his favorite musical instrument, knowing exactly where to press.

"Daddy," you couldn't even hear your own voice, and you didn't realize that you instinctively started to hump his hand, allowing the blissful rapture to wash over you at any moment. "I—I…! This is so good—I…!"

"I know, I know," Patrick brought you closer, gently kissing your collarbone and increasing the intensity of his rubbing motions. "You're literally riding my fucking hand," he groaned, watching you throw your head back, and then he could feel your whole body shaking so violently that he had to hold you to keep you from falling. " Just like that, Babydoll, just like that."

A soothing touch on your lower back seemed to have the opposite effect, fueling your orgasm, you screamed loudly, but there was no sound. "P-Patrick...mhm!" You hugged him like a lifeline, burying your nose in his soft brown curls. Everything felt so perfect, but then the sharp pain cut through your body like a flash of lightning as Bateman tried to shove his fingers into your moist cleft, and you even had to claw at your own skin to prevent yourself from crying. "STOP!"

Patrick literally froze and stopped doing everything as he realized that he had just found some resistance with his digits. "What the fuck?"

The limo was still moving, and for a few seconds you both remained silent. Only after almost a minute did you dismount him and get back to your seat, quickly zipping up your jeans and adjusting your top. All the while, Bateman was looking at you with a strange expression that was hard to read — a mixture of shock, irritation and lust.

"(Y/n), talk to me." Patrick raised his voice after cleaning his fingers by licking off your sweet juices. "You're a fucking virgin? And you didn't tell me?"

Yeah, this time you actually fucked things up.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

[quoththemaiden]

I hope everyone enjoyed the finale of @mrghostrat's Big Name Feelings Good Omens AU as much as I did. While ghostrat ended his story perfectly with a beautiful and realistic close to the part of their relationship we as an audience get to see, I had one more scene idea close to my heart and so I'm putting it out here because my heart still sings with love for this story and its characters.

These fanscenes now also appear on AO3. Along with the four I've already posted here (1, 2, 3, and 5), you can find a scene I kept off Tumblr ("Ch. 12"). You can read the final scene ("Ch. 17") below, but you can also find it on AO3, where it shows the text messages in graphical form.

Bilv, thank you once again for creating such an amazing story! I'm happy to say that my mind is no longer filled with your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems. Instead, please enjoy these 3k words of pure fluff.

—

Crowley dumped his bag on the hotel room floor and did a lazy spin to take in the space. "Not bad, eh?"

"It's very posh," Newt agreed, setting his bag down more gingerly. "You're sure we can't pitch in for it?"

"I'm not dealing with you setting your phone on fire trying to do a transfer." Crowley waved the offer off and flopped onto the couch. The hotel suite had two small bedrooms plus a nice little sitting area that would be perfect for board games. It was set up to mainly accommodate a family with kids, albeit a family that could afford to splash on a multi-room suite for the family vacation to Spain. Crowley stretched out, shamelessly taking up the whole couch in a bid to ease the stiffness in his hips. "Tell ya what, if you're feeling guilty, you can buy my drinks tonight."

Anathema laughed and gave Crowley a poke in the side, looking quite satisfied at his jerk and yelp. "Knowing you, that will end up being a fair deal. And I'll take care of renting the wheelbarrow to cart you back here."

Crowley rubbed his side dourly. "Maybe I preferred you on the other side of the ocean."

Anathema grinned at him, unrepentant. "If you want to stay at my place while I'm here, I'll lend you my keys." She ducked a thrown pillow with a laugh.

—

The weather was perfect for sipping cocktails outside, and their mutual agreement to all try drinks they'd never had before helped keep the night from slipping away from them too quickly. Being able to chat without the artificial framing of a webcam was a delight, too, but all of them were too continuously connected to be interested in a strict phones-down policy.

Anathema rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink before answering the text that had just popped up on her screen.

Aziraphale: Are you certain he doesn't know I'm nearby? Anathema: I didn't tell him, Newt doesn't know, and he doesn't have a magical angel-detecting sense does he? Aziraphale: I'm not so sure about that last point. Some of his last texts seem awfully pointed. Anathema: You're being paranoid

Anathema slipped her phone away before leaning over to look at Crowley's phone screen, where he was lining up a very artistic shot of his drink, showcasing as much of the swanky beachfront seating area as possible. She blinked at him slowly. "Have you been sending Aziraphale 'wish you were here' texts?"

Crowley glanced at her sideways, his thumb paused over the shutter button. "Maybe."

Anathema sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Are you an adult who can handle a vacation with friends or are you going to pine after your boyfriend all night?"

"I'm here, aren't I? It's not like we're tied together at the hip."

Anathema shook her head in fond exasperation. "Getting these printed on postcards for him would be funnier than this text spam." Crowley barked out a laugh and sent Aziraphale his next promise to take him here sometime anyway.

Anathema pulled out her phone again, tapping out a quick message.

Anathema: He says he's a full-grown adult who can handle being away from you.

There was a pause before Aziraphale responded to her — probably due to dealing with a barrage of messages from Crowley.

Aziraphale: A very convincing claim.

Anathema looked up as Crowley put his phone away. "All done?"

"Yeah, he's taking an early night." Crowley took a languid sip from his drink.

"How have his workshops been going?" Newt asked, fiddling with a vibrant russet cocktail in a type of glass he couldn't name.

"Good!" Crowley's eyes lit up with excitement, his cheeks pink. "We polished his presentation before he left—"

"I heard about that!" Newt cut in. "He said it was more like beta-testing than beta-reading."

Crowley snorted. "If you want to see what happens when someone goes against the script, I'm your guy."

"The reception's been okay?" Anathema asked. "I know getting audience participation at workshops can be pulling teeth."

"Nahhh, it's different in the library world. Those weirdos actually care about their jobs."

"So do I, but it would be pulling teeth to get me to do a 'group active learning exercise.'"

"Fair." Crowley grinned. "They know how to talk like humans, then. And they really are interested in anyone with tips on how to break into digital spaces in an authentic way."

Newt hummed thoughtfully. "He's really okay with talking about his online presence at work like that? I'd be way too embarrassed."

"Nah, you stop caring about that stuff when you get older."

Anathema snorted. "I'm still saying it's pure luck you didn't chase him offline again with that con nonsense."

"Pfffft." Crowley made a sound that was all plosives and no vowels. "Never even close."

"Right," Anathema replied with tasteful sarcasm.

Crowley cut her teasing short by slapping a yellow canvas pouch down on the table. "C'mon. Let's play a game!"

"Oh, Bananagrams!" Anathema accepted the diversion and unzipped the banana-shaped bag, pouring the Scrabble tiles out between them. She deftly started flipping them letter side down. "I don't think Newt's played?"

Crowley nodded and waggled his fingers at the pile of tiles. "Rules are easy: Everyone's building their own board-free Scrabble grid. You start with 21 tiles. Say 'peel' when you've used yours up to make everyone take another tile from the stock. Say 'dump' to trade one of your tiles for three from the stock. The first person to say 'peel' without enough tiles left for everyone to take one wins. Simple, right?"

Newt nodded slowly, watching as Anathema divided the tiles out neatly. "So they're putting Scrabble in bananas these days."

—

Aziraphale: Is he up yet?

Crowley gestured Anathema towards the table where their phones sat in a cuddly pile of charging pads and wires. "You got a message while you were in the shower. From Aziraphale?"

Anathema kept her face carefully schooled as she sauntered over and picked up her phone, using the need to adjust her towel turban as an excuse for not making eye contact. "Mm." She picked it up and read the incriminating message, then snorted. "Bracing himself for when your wall of texts will start, I imagine."

"Nahhh, he loves it!" Crowley snagged the glasses cleaner out of his bag and sauntered into the bathroom. He'd be wearing them all day and he'd murder someone if he had to deal with the scummy film left by hotel soap.

"Whatever you say, lover boy." Anathema breathed a tired sigh.

Anathema: Yeah, and he saw this. We should be at the conservatory by 11

She should have just taken the phone into the bathroom with her, steam be damned.

—

The botanical conservatory was, frankly, gorgeous. The greenhouses were so large the ceilings weren't even noticeable, and the outdoor gardens were a riot of native plants. Crowley devoured the signs about plants he was unfamiliar with with gusto, and pointed out those he recognized with the enthusiasm of a man determined to prove he wasn't hungover. Newt listened with unfeigned interest, while Anathema wasn't shy about slowing them down to take photos of particularly artfully arranged displays.

They'd been there about half an hour when a patter of English broke through the background chatter of Spanish. "Could you spot me the entrance fee for the butterfly room?"

"Aziraphale!" Crowley immediately spun to his right, his whole face lighting up in delight before realizing that seeing him here was, in fact, quite odd. "What are you doing in Spain?"

"I left right after my last workshop. I thought it might make a nice surprise."

"It made the best surprise." Crowley pulled him into an ardent kiss that went on long enough for Anathema to cough something about public displays of affection. Crowley eventually relented on the kiss, as much for the sake of their breathing as anything else, but kept his arm slung firmly around Aziraphale's shoulders. "You're a bit of a bastard, you know that? I could've been looking forward to this the whole time."

"Only as much of a bastard as you deserve," Aziraphale teased right back with easy familiarity. His heart kept pounding hard anyway.

"Heh. What a way to butter me up while you're angling for a free ticket." Crowley snuck another kiss onto Aziraphale's cheek. Aziraphale laughed as he slipped his arm through Crowley's, relishing the contact after their weeks apart.

The butterfly room, when they got in, was a riot of fluttering wings. The promise of iridescence was enough to get Crowley to remove his sunglasses, and a quiet compliment on his eyes from Aziraphale was enough to get him tucking them into his pocket instead of putting them right back on afterwards.

They left the butterfly room — with some careful mutual inspections to make sure no one was harboring a stowaway, involving perhaps a bit more care in running fingers through another's hair than was strictly necessary for the task — and emerged near the exit to the rose garden. Crowley's hand moved towards his sunglasses but Aziraphale put his hand on his arm. "Just a couple more minutes? There's something I want you to see first." Aziraphale glanced over at Anathema, who nodded slightly but otherwise kept her expression carefully uninterested.

Crowley looked between them and shrugged. "Not exactly subtle as far as hangover tests go, but a'ight." Aziraphale laughed breathlessly and kept a firm grip on his arm, drawing him deeper into the garden.

The rose garden featured small offshoots to the main path where groups could sit for a little while to rest. It wasn't until the third one that they came upon an alcove that was empty, and Aziraphale promptly pulled Crowley aside, Anathema holding out her hand to keep Newt just outside it with her.

"Crowley—" Aziraphale began, his breath catching in his throat as he caught Crowley's full attention. "I, ah. I actually came here because there was something I wanted to say."

Crowley's hand twitched reflexively towards his glasses again, but this time he kept it down himself, even as his heart started to pound. "...yeah?"

"Yeah," Aziraphale breathed out as he sank to one knee, reaching into his pocket. His fingers were trembling, and his smile was nervous but so very adoring. "If I ask you something, will you promise to laugh?"

"—huh?" Crowley blinked in confusion, then stared as Aziraphale opened a jewelry box to reveal a simple ring.

"Anthony J. Crowley, would you be my snouse?"

It took a few seconds for Crowley to register any of the words Aziraphale had just said, but then he barked out a laugh as the last one hit him. "Really? That's how you ask?"

"You don't like it?"

"I just... I thought if you did it, you'd do a whole speech for it. You even brought us out to a rose garden!"

"I'll be honest, I had one of those planned. I just... couldn't quite seem to bring it to mind." Aziraphale had no idea how he was managing to talk even as much as he was around the tightness in his throat. "You haven't answered my question, dear."

"Pfft..." Crowley closed both his hands around Aziraphale's. "Yes. Yes, of course I'll be your... your whatever. Forever and always."

"Thank goodness." Aziraphale half rose and was instead greeted by Crowley also kneeling, both of them moving together for a kiss that was slow and deliberate. Aziraphale could feel the pounding of his own pulse against the tight hold Crowley had on his hands, and he could tell how Crowley's heartrate had risen to match his by the way their kiss kept shifting for quick intakes of air. Aziraphale finally broke the contact only so he could gently extricate his hands from Crowley's. It took every scrap of concentration he could scrape together to find Crowley's left hand and slip the ring onto his finger. "...it fit okay?"

"Nggh," Crowley replied before pulling him into another kiss.

They might have stayed there all day if Anathema hadn't cleared her throat — snapping another quick photo as they looked up at her, flushed and frazzled. "We are still in public, I'm afraid."

"Yeah," Crowley breathed.

"Huh..." Aziraphale added, just as coherently.

Newt shook his head at the unlikely prospect of them getting up anytime soon, and looked over at Anathema instead. "How were you so prepared?"

Anathema flashed him a smile. "I knew this was coming. Aziraphale asked me to take the photos."

"Is that why you're here?"

"It was the other way around," Anathema replied. "Aziraphale realized he could arrange his schedule to join our trip partway, and we worked out how to take advantage of the situation."

"Bastard," Crowley muttered in response to nothing and everything, pressing tender kisses to Aziraphale's left ring finger like he could imprint a ring there with his lips. "Did you measure my finger while I slept?"

Aziraphale smiled as he watched him, his heartrate finally settling closer to normal under Crowley's reassuring touches. "It's scarcely my fault you're so easy to send to sleep, dearest."

"You're ridiculous. Adorable. Incorrigible."

"Are those all synonyms in your mind?" Aziraphale leaned in to steal another kiss.

Crowley laughed breathlessly at how easily they'd returned to comfortable teasing and carefully pushed himself up. He tugged his clothing straighter and tried to pretend he was put-together as he glanced at Anathema, who was grinning unabashedly at them. "I'll want those pics for... for everything. All of them."

Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley's arm for support as he straightened his own creaking knees. "I'm claiming Tumblr first, if you don't mind."

"Eh—" Crowley gave him his full attention again, not that it had strayed for more than a moment. "This will really get you notice, Angel."

"Good." Aziraphale took Crowley's hand and leaned in to kiss him. He rubbed his fingertip over the ring settled firmly onto a finger that had never borne one before. "Let them know who's claimed you."

Crowley snaked his arm around Aziraphale's neck, chasing down another kiss that went on long enough to have Anathema clucking behind them. "We're gonna get kicked out of the garden, Angel."

Aziraphale smiled against Crowley's lips. "Let them. The one we made is better."

—

Three bottles of wine sat open and mostly-drunk on the table, divided between four glasses that were using the remnants of the previous night's game of The Quiet Year as a coaster. ("We set it in an idyllic countryside and it all went downhill from there," Crowley had explained when Aziraphale came in and started examining the hand-drawn map. "I think the arrival of the dog was the real turning point to madness," Newt had chimed in. "It was doomed from the start," Anathema declared with a resigned sigh.) The red rings of wine stains could have added as much to the group narrative as anything they'd purposefully drawn.

"I came in like a wrecking ball~! I never hit so hard in love~!" Newt sang raucously, a broad grin on his face while Anathema laughed into her hand. Aziraphale tilted his head as he watched them, visibly processing the music.

"All the other kids with their pumped-up kicks, you better run—!" Anathema joined in as the tune jauntily transitioned to a new melody. Aziraphale's face froze into an expression of fond but intense confusion.

"Problem, Angel?" Crowley drawled, utterly amused as he watched the tableau.

"I'm fairly certain that isn't how those songs go. And isn't that polka?"

"Never heard of Weird Al? Bit bigger overseas, I s'pose." He gestured to Anathema's phone, which was supplying the impromptu karaoke party.

Aziraphale nodded, confusion dissolving and leaving just a hint of distaste in its place. "And a different generation, I suppose." He took another sip of his wine, a nice Syrah, as the melody shifted to a new and equally abrasive polka.

"I wear your granddad's clothes," the millennials continued singing, until one of them glanced at Aziraphale and started laughing and the other followed suit, wineglass held out in an attempt to insulate it from deep belly laughs. Crowley snagged it deftly and set it on the table, another drop of wine rolling down to stain the paper there. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, much more amused at their drunken good humor than offended.

Crowley patted Aziraphale's thigh. "Want to take the rest of that Syrah back to my room and leave the loverbirds to it?"

"It would still be rather noisy if we stayed here," Aziraphale replied with a tempting smile. "Why don't you come back to mine?"

Crowley leaned forward eagerly, only a fraction away from jumping up at the unexpected invitation. "Oh?"

"Well, the room may not wind up being quite as nice as the one you got, but I thought for our first night together as a formally promised couple..." Aziraphale's smile said everything.

"You're a genius." Crowley kissed his cheek and grabbed Aziraphale's hand to pull him up with him, then firmly refused to let it go despite the challenge of tucking a wine bottle under his arm while juggling a wine glass and his phone.

Aziraphale laughed. "We can take two trips, since you'll want your bag. Did you leave it packed?"

"Like always." Crowley grinned. "Not going to rib on me for that ever again, huh?"

"One occasion of convenience is not worth the wrinkles, my dear," Aziraphale responded with all the primness he could muster around a wide grin.

Crowley laughed and took the opportunity of Aziraphale opening the hotel room door to crowd closer and steal an eager kiss that was just as eagerly given. "You really managed to hold in that you'd gotten us a room all day?"

"I kept the trip secret from you too, didn't I?"

"Age will not wither," Crowley chuckled and nipped Aziraphale's ear. "C'mon, let's see that room. Coming back for pyjamas optional."

The two of them left the hotel suite hand-in-hand, with everything they truly needed already right there with them.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #bnf au #ineffable husbands #fanfiction of fanfiction #my writing #middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man joy

[perotovar]

into the beat of the night (ch 5) "human fly"

gif by me

pairing: frankie morales/oc!river price (they/them) rating: M chapter warnings: swearing, (2) ptsd induced panic attacks, discussions of drugs (cocaine), hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, this one is a little heavier y'all (but it's me so it's still soft) word count: 3.3k dividers by @saradika-graphics beta/co-writer: @scenaaario (seriously she helped so much with this chapter, pls send her some love ♥)

for notifications, follow @oakslibrary and turn on alerts ♥

series summary: frankie thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

series masterlist

Frankie, River, Santiago, and Benny were standing in line waiting to get into The Night Owl. Will had to work and couldn’t make it, but he let them know it really wasn’t his scene anyway and wished them all a good night.

River squeezed Frankie’s hand, looking up at him. “You’re such a trooper letting me get you all dolled up today,” they giggled, kissing his cheek. 

“I’m surprised how good it looks on him, to be honest,” Benny smirked.

Frankie sighed and rolled his eyes, cheeks pink. He was dolled up by Frankie standards, and having a hard time not fussing with River’s hard work. They had slicked his hair back, and the gel felt like a helmet. He was hyper aware of the eyeliner now rimming his eyes and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He did everything in his power not to touch his eyes and smudge the thick kohl. Despite his discomfort, even he had to admit he looked good. His hair was smoother than any of them had ever seen it, and the eyeliner emphasized the complexity of his deep brown eyes. River’s eyes dragged over his broad shoulders and grinned at the borrowed shirt he now wore, the delicate mesh pulled taut over his back. 

Fake jewelry adorned Frankie’s ears and neck, making River grin. Their eyes traveled down the broad expanse of Frankie’s torso and landed on his soft middle. Frankie was apprehensive about how tight the mesh shirt was, saying that he didn’t want his tummy to poke out too much. River’s kisses to the soft flesh convinced him to go with it. Their arms wrapped around Frankie’s middle and squeezed appreciatively.

“Y’know, now that I’m seeing you all put together like this, you kind of remind me of an older version of someone I used to know,” River hummed thoughtfully.

Santiago snorted and dug his hands under his armpits. “Ay dios mio…” he mumbled under his breath.

“Yeah. Kid went by Dio, but I guarantee he couldn’t tell you a single song by him,” River rolled their eyes, exhaling exasperatedly. “Ended up going to jail for stabbing someone.”

Frankie blinked before barking out a laugh. “That makes me feel great, Río, thanks.”

“No problem,” they smirked, getting up on their toes to kiss him properly, pressing their lips delicately to his so their lipstick wouldn’t smear.

The four of them finally stepped into the club, the walls bouncing with the music. Benny was like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide and excited as he took in all the people. He made his way up to the bar, Viper giving him a look before making him a drink, and Frankie grinned. “I think he likes the place,” he chuckled, looping his arms around River’s waist from behind and kissing their jaw.

“I think so, too. I hope Anya is here tonight.”

“Anya?”

River turned and smirked, putting their finger over their lips as they winked. “It’s a surprise for Benny. I’ve been meaning to find someone for her for a while now and I think he’s perfect.”

An amused look crossed Frankie’s features. He turned to say something to Santiago, but the other man was missing. Frankie furrowed his brows and looked around, one of the clip-ons slightly hitting his cheek as he turned his head. He scanned the room and his eyes finally landed on Santi, already chatting up a pretty girl with dark skin and bright, unnatural contacts in her eyes. Frankie turned back to River, grinning to himself. He’ll catch up with him later.

“You weren’t kidding about these Snakebites, Fish,” Benny’s booming voice brought Frankie’s attention back toward the bar. Ben handed Frankie a matching drink as he took a swig. 

“They have other drinks, you know,” River snorted.

Frankie smiled before shrugging. He pressed his hand to their lower back as he guided them over to a cluster of tables. He bit his lip, searching for an empty one.

Suddenly, River gasped and took off, running over to hug a plump woman excitedly. Ben raised his eyebrows and Frankie made an I-don’t-know sound. He moved closer to the pair as River excitedly spoke to the woman, who was giggling loudly. She was really pretty, with a medium skin tone, and her round face bright and more heavily made up than River’s. She wore a lace dress that ended at her thick thighs, and heeled boots with spikes on them. Her hair was short and bleached a bright white.

River felt Frankie’s presence and grinned as he wrapped his arms around their waist, resting his chin on their shoulder. “This must be him,” the woman smiled, her voice soft but with an intrinsic power underneath. He could practically feel the confidence rolling off her in waves. “I thought you said he looked like a truck driver?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Anya, please,” River laughed, holding onto Frankie’s wrists. “He let me get him all dressed up tonight, I promise he does normally.”

Frankie sighed and hid his burning cheeks in River’s neck. He reached a hand out toward Anya, keeping the other secure around River’s waist. “I’m Frankie,” he smiled.

Anya shook his hand and grinned. “You’re being good to them, right? Because if you’re not, I will find you,” she threatened, eyes hard and serious.

Frankie gulped, his eyes going wide, and nodded jerkily. “P-promise.”

“Good,” she grinned. “Anya. And who’s this puppy?” She turned her eyes toward Benny looking over him with an unreadable expression on her face.

Benny was speechless, gazing in adoration at her. He held his drink close and smiled softly, but still didn’t respond, like he didn’t hear her.

“Benjamin,” Frankie mumbled, trying to cover it with a cough.

Benny snapped out of it and shook his head, cheeks red. “S-sorry! I’m Ben,” he smiled wide, holding his hand out for Anya to shake.

Anya looked at his hand accusingly, then looked at Frankie and River with a raised brow, and looked back at Benny. She took his hand and shook it. She must have determined he was a good one because her face softened, a smile blooming on her face. “Hi, Ben.”

River and Frankie exchanged looks before sneaking off to find a spot to sit. When they couldn’t find one, they decided to head for the dance floor instead. 

“So, that was Anya,” Frankie laughed, hands on River’s waist as they swayed together.

River hummed and nodded. “Was I right, or was I right?” They smirked, taking a look at the two of them talking animatedly at the bar.

A softness crossed Frankie’s features before he pressed a light kiss to their forehead. “I’m gonna use the bathroom. Be right back, ok?”

River nodded and tapped him on the shoulders before going back to dancing.

Frankie made his way over to the club’s men’s room. As he stood at the sink, he analyzed his look in the mirror, deciding it was growing on him. He wouldn’t keep it, but he didn’t hate it either.

The sound of someone snorting in a stall behind him stopped Frankie in his tracks. He felt his entire body go cold as a shiver ran through him, his eyes slamming shut. He took a deep breath and held it, opening his eyes in time to see a man stumbling out of the bathroom, frantically wiping his nose. Frankie exhaled and looked down at his shaking hands, rubbing his thumb over the black nail polish. He took a minute to collect himself before he made his way back into the club, looking for River and the guys.

River was walking over to Viper from the dance floor and pantomimed drinking something. He poured them a glass of water and they drank it gratefully. They made eye contact with Frankie over the rim of the glass and they set it down, excitedly bouncing over to him.

Frankie felt a rush of warmth at the sight of his partner and his racing heart slowed a little, lacing their fingers through his own. River kissed his cheek before they walked over to where Benny and Anya were still chatting. 

“I see things are going well,” River grinned, winking at Anya. Anya rolled her eyes, but smiled up at them. Benny looked at Frankie and did a double take, noticing the pinched look on his face before anyone else did. He caught Frankie’s eye, concern growing on his face. Frankie nodded, squeezing River’s hand a little tighter. Benny seemed to take that and turned back to Anya.

“I was just going to ask this lovely lady if she’d give me her number,” Ben rumbled, looking over Anya’s form appreciatively before landing on her face and holding her gaze. Anya’s cheeks warmed as she held her hand out for Ben to hand her his phone.

River turned to Frankie and smiled. “We should check and see if we can find Santi.”

Frankie swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart pounding, before he croaked out, “He’s probably making out with that girl he was talking to.” He sniffled twice.

River nodded and squeezed his hand, noticing the tightness of his features. The furrow in his brow seemed to deepen by the minute, and his gaze bounced frantically around the room. They could tell something was up, but didn’t want to press the issue. At least not here.

“I’ll go find him,” Frankie muttered quietly before walking off to find Santiago. He made his way over to the women’s restrooms, placed next to the all-gender bathroom, and smiled to himself. Santiago had the same pretty girl from before pressed against the wall and, just as Frankie thought, was heavily making out with her, her arms around Santi’s neck.

Frankie cleared his throat and grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. He was still shaking, but trying his hardest to suppress his trembling. Santiago pulled away from the girl, her lipstick smeared across his mouth.

“Hey, Fish,” Santiago mumbled, licking his kiss-swollen lips. “What can I do ya for?”

“Uh,” Frankie chuckled uneasily. “I think River and I are gonna head out. I, uh…” he shuffled on his feet a little. “It’s getting a little crowded, and I just…”

Santi turned serious, quietly whispering something to the girl before turning his attention back to Frankie. She waited patiently, smiling at the back of Santiago’s head. 

“You okay, Frank?” Santiago leaned closer to his friend, placing a reassuring hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

Frankie gulped and nodded, looking down at his black boots. The warmth from Santi’s palm seemed to ground him. “Yeah, I’m just… tired,” he lied, forcing a smile. “I’ll text you, okay?”

Santiago narrowed his eyes, but nodded, giving Frankie a once over. “Alright. I’ll make sure Benny gets home.”

“Thanks, Pope.”

Frankie slapped Santiago on the shoulder before turning away to find River. He had to get out of here, and quick. His palms were sweating and it was getting harder to breathe the longer he stayed. The sound of that guy sniffing played on a tormenting infinite loop.

He hadn’t had an episode like this in a long time, and he guessed that’s why it was happening. He should’ve expected there to be something like this at a nightclub, but it still felt like it came out of nowhere . He shut his eyes and took a deep breath before grabbing River’s hand again.

“Hey,” they smiled, a pinch of worry on their face. “Everything okay?”

Frankie bit his lip and nodded jerkily. “Y-yeah, uh. Do you think we could go home?”

River’s heart skipped a beat at the insinuation that River’s apartment was home, for both of them. Frankie already planned on staying over at River’s that night. “Of course, babe.”

A genuine smile grew on Frankie’s lips and he nodded, kissing their cheek softly. 

“I already told Anya and Ben to use protection and they nearly hit me for it,” River chuckled, walking Frankie out of the club and toward his truck. Frankie’s hands were still shaking as he grabbed for his keys. “You want me to drive?” River asked, holding out their hand.

Frankie battled with himself for a second before nodding, handing his keys over to them. “Thank you,” he mumbled, making his way over to the passenger seat.

The drive home was quiet. Frankie was obsessively picking at his nails, not used to having polish covering them. River kept looking over at Frankie worriedly, unsure what was going on. They knew he’d tell them when he was ready but they couldn’t help but feel useless at this moment. 

Once they were inside River’s apartment, Frankie quietly untied his boots and went to the bathroom to clean all the stuff off his face. River got Jonsey his food for the night and went into their bedroom, changing into boxer briefs and Frankie’s Iron Maiden t-shirt. Once changed, they knocked on the bathroom door softly. “You decent?”

They heard a few sounds on the other side of the door, mostly of the fake piercings hitting the counter, before he answered shakily, “Yeah, c’mon in.”

River opened the door and smiled sadly at Frankie’s now-bare face. “There he is,” they smiled, stepping further into the small bathroom to hold his face. They kissed the tip of his nose and pressed their hands on his broad chest. “Go get comfy and I’ll be there in a sec, ok?”

Frankie nodded, almost on autopilot, and made his way into River’s bedroom to change.

When River made their way back into their bedroom, their own face now bare and hair pulled back in a loose braid, Frankie was already curled up in the blankets. His bare back faced them as he lay on his side, so River crawled into the sheets to wrap their arms around him. They cuddled his back close to their chest, rubbing their hands over his soft tummy comfortingly. 

“You wanna tell me what happened?” River asked softly into Frankie’s curls, now freed from their gelled prison.

Frankie sighed quietly, lacing his fingers with River’s free hand. “In the morning? I promise I will, I just,” he paused. “I just wanna sleep it off first.”

“Of course,” River hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Frankie’s head. “I’ll be here.”

Cold. Heavy rain. A series of gunshots. And then, euphoria. 

Frankie startled awake, covered in cold perspiration. He panted hard, trying to blink the room back into view. 

River blinked awake, Frankie’s heaving chest rising and falling quickly underneath their hands. “Babe?” they asked, voice thick with sleep. 

Cold. Heavy rain. A series of gunshots. And then—

“Frankie,” River’s voice came through clearly, sounding more awake. They tapped on his chest, rolling him onto his back and then pulling him up into a sitting position. 

Black spots and blurred vision greeted him as he tried to come back to earth. “I—“ he croaked, starting to cough. He began breathing heavily, shakily.

River’s eyes welled with tears as they watched him, rubbing his back as soothingly as they could. What could they do? They thought about it for a second, then started humming a song softly. 

Frankie pressed his large hand to his chest and his throat, trying to get his breathing back to normal. He turned his head to see if he could find someone familiar. When his eyes landed on River’s tired face, a tear fell from his eye. He didn’t want them to see this. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

River continued humming, rubbing soothing circles into Frankie’s back until his heart rate got to a steady rhythm. “Frankie?” they asked softly, eyes searching his pinched face.

Frankie startled a little, almost like he didn’t expect them to say anything. “Riv—“

“Shh, it’s okay. Just making sure you can hear me,” they whispered. They leaned over to kiss his shoulder, the hand not on his back coming up to hold the back of his own hand pressed to his chest. “I’m gonna go get you some water, ok? Don’t move.”

“Nuh,” Frankie mumbled, shaking his head quickly. He wrapped his arms around their waist and pressed his head to their chest. “N-no.”

A shaky breath left River’s lungs, but they nodded, cradling his face and rubbing his back gently. “Alright,” they sighed. 

Exhaustion overtook Frankie’s body and he fell asleep. River looked over at their phone on the nightstand and picked it up; 5:28am. They looked at the photo on their lockscreen of Frankie smiling shyly and looking down. They sighed and put the phone down, looking back at Frankie’s sleeping face.

River could wait. They settled back against the pillows and watched the sky outside lighten to a dusty blue, the clouds glowing orange as the sun rose.

When Frankie opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the sun filtering in through the window. Dust motes floated in the shafts of light. His head was pounding. 

“You’re awake.”

He lifted his head from River’s chest and saw their yawning face. “Yeah… You’re up early,” he mumbled, biting back his own yawn.

“I never went back to bed,” River smiled sleepily.

Frankie’s face fell. “God, I’m so sorry, mi río.”

River shook their head and sat up against the headboard of the bed. “No, you stop right there. I chose to stay up, okay?” They smiled, rubbing their thumb against his arm. “I wanted to make sure you slept.”

Frankie’s eyes welled with tears and he shook his head, looking down. He took a deep breath before speaking, wanting everything to come out clearly. “I don’t want you to not know what happened,” he looked up at them, big brown eyes glossy. “I don’t want to scare you again,” he whispered.

Heart melting and breaking simultaneously, River nodded in understanding. “Okay. I’m listening,” they said softly.

So, he told them everything. Joining the military at nineteen, figuring himself out. But also what the military did to him mentally, and how he dealt with that. Colombia. River didn’t say much, just taking the time to let Frankie get his thoughts out. 

“I understand if this is like, a lot,” Frankie mumbled shakily. He shut his eyes and exhaled. “If you don’t want to—“

“Stop it,” River hummed sadly. “It is a lot to process, but I’m not worried. I mean, I’m worried, because this is something that’s still affecting you, but I’m not going to leave you over this.”

Relief flooded through him and he pressed his forehead against theirs. “How did I get so lucky?” he whispered, smiling softly.

“It was the New Balances. So hot.”

Frankie snorted, his shoulders shaking slightly until he barked out a loud laugh. “Shut the fuck up,” he giggled, tickling their sides.

River squealed with giggles, falling onto their back. Frankie kept going until they had tears streaming down their cheeks and he was hovering over them. They slowly caught their breath, watching each other’s faces quietly.

“Te amo, mi río,” Frankie hummed, cupping their cheek.

River’s heart stopped and they bit their lip. They looked down at Frankie’s collarbone, not answering right away.

Frankie panicked a little, his eyes widening. “Sh-shit, um, I’m sorry—“

“No, it’s okay,” River’s eyes shut as they shook their head a little. They held his hand against their face so he wouldn’t take it away. “I… I’m not sure I’m ready to… to say that back. But I want to. God, do I want to.” 

Frankie exhaled shakily and he nodded, cheeks burning. 

“It’s just… I haven’t been in a real relationship in a long time. I still… I still identified as a woman when I did. No one’s ever… b-been with me like… like this,” River gulped, finally looking back up into his eyes again. “It’s always just been flings and hookups.”

Frankie was quiet, processing what they were saying. “Okay,” he muttered. “I don’t want you to say it until you’re ready. I just needed to let you know,” he smiled softly.

River’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” he hummed, leaning down to kiss them softly.

#frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales fic #frankie morales angst #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fluff #triple frontier au #triple frontier angst #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu #oaksfics

[mermaidgirl30]

Love Amidst the Blue Ch 2: Captured✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: I hope you enjoy chapter two! Joel and mermaid reader are so 🥰 Enjoy all the fluff and please let me know yours thoughts!

Chapter Summary: After discovering a magic necklace that’ll give you what you desire, you get caught in a net and find yourself trapped. It’s not just any boat though, it’s Joel’s boat.

Pairing: sailor! Joel x mermaid fem! reader

Word Count: 7k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Chapter Tags: Reader finds a magic shell necklace, pining, fluff, a little bit of angst, tension, longing, Joel takes care of reader

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The next day you can’t wait to see Joel. You’d stayed awake half the night just daydreaming about those dreamy brown eyes and calloused hands as you rolled back and forth in the silky pink clam shell bed. You want to see him again, want to ask him about all his sailing adventures and treasures he’s found. So that’s exactly what you’d do. Tonight. 

   You quickly check your hair in the long standing mirror and pick a rainbow colored sea flower from the ocean floor, spinning around in a circle as you bring it to your face to smell and place it back down in the soft sand. You flick your tail and swim through the kingdom of Capri as you pass other mermaids and mermen, trailing your fingers along golden palace walls and shimmery pearls that hang from strings beside the palace entrance. 

   Before you can make it out, you run into your father, the king of Capri. “Oh, hi father,” you say dreamily as your head fills with images of Joel’s handsome face. 

   “Morning, sweetie. Where are you off to in such a hurry? Haven’t seen you lately, you okay?” he asks as he trails his eyes over your lovesick expression, trying your best not to give yourself away. 

   “I’m okay. Just wanted to get a head start on picking some shells in the kelp beds. You know how I love making jewelry,” you lie, trying your best to keep a straight face as a slight giggle escapes your lips. 

   Your father looks at you carefully, his golden crown slipping further down his long locks as his glistening gold triton sits next to his intricate throne made of shells. If he suspects something, he doesn’t say. He just nods his head as a smile tugs at his lips. 

   “Ahh, I see. You always did make the finest jewelry in the kingdom,” he smiles. “Just be careful. Take Scar with you. I’ve been hearing rumors that humans have been getting close to the area. Don’t want you getting tangled up in that nonsense,” he warns, his eyes on fire as he thinks about the day he lost his most precious wife. The day you lost your mom and half your people. That cold, dreadful day.

   “Promise, daddy. I’ll be safe.”

   Marissa and Cleo narrow their eyes at you in the back of the room, knowing damn well you are in fact meddling in human affairs. You drag your eyes over to them and give them a pleading look, begging them not to say a word. They must acknowledge it because they don’t say a word, they just float and stare at you with beady eyes. 

   “Alright, well have fun. Just be careful and don’t talk to the eels. They’re always pulling nasty tricks with us,” he says with narrowed eyes. 

   “Goodbye, daddy,” you say as you wave and head out, swimming through thick beds of seaweed as you pass a school of clown fish. 

   You don’t get very far until Marissa and Cleo are swimming in front of you, blocking you from going any further. 

   “Where are you off to really?” Cleo asks as her long blonde hair spirals down her back, her aquamarine tail fanning out as she narrows her piercing blue eyes at you.  

   “You’re going to see that human again, aren’t you?” Marissa just copies her menacing look and crosses her arms as her tail turns a deeper purple than it was a few minutes ago. 

   You’re trapped. They know what you plan to do, and there’s no point lying to them. They know. “Tonight, yes,” you confess with a sigh, feeling them judge you harshly by the way they gnash their teeth in your direction. 

   “You’re so selfish, you know that? Risking our kind, for what? So you can live out your little daydream of finding love with a human? You’re so fucking selfish, sister. So stupid,” Marissa says with sharp incisors snarling in your direction. 

   You take it upon yourself to fight back, defend your stance. “I’m not being selfish! If you just for once listened to me, you’d know he was different. He doesn’t want to hurt me. He’s going to tell me all about the human world, answer all my questions about being on land,” you fight back, standing up for yourself. 

   “Pffft. Gods, you’re delusional. You’re going to risk everything!” Cleo shouts as her blaring voice booms through the water. You gasp at the force of her words. 

   “I’m not though…” you say quietly, biting your lip to soothe the guilt inside your stomach. Maybe you are risking it all, but he wouldn’t hurt you. Would he?

   “You forget your place in this family,” Marissa snarls bitterly. “Do you remember what happened to Stacia? Remember how she was so sure she found a nice human man? Remember how he dragged a knife through her heart and left her to bleed out on the ocean floor!” The pain in her voice is stifling as you cringe against her rough accusations. 

   Stacia. Of course you remembered. You remembered how heart broken your mother and father were, remembered him banishing any of his people from ever speaking to humans again. Now all they did was sing their siren songs to sailors while drowning them in the water which you were supposed to be a part of, too…

   “Of course I remember! But Joel, he’d never do that…” you say quietly, trying your best not to shed a tear at how furious you are. 

   “Go on then. We won’t wait up for you,” Marissa says sharply as her and Cleo turn and swim back to the palace. 

   You sigh and swim the opposite way of them, feeling Scar follow behind as a large shadow takes form over your body. You can already feel Scar’s judgement wearing down on you, can feel the warning that lies in his big eyes. 

   “Scar, don’t make me feel anymore guilty than I already do,” you sigh out, carrying your body through the crystal clear water as you pass another school of colorful fish. “I know what I’m doing,” you press. He just rolls his eyes and continues following you, watching over you just like you did for him that cold, dark day years ago. 

   You continue swimming through the blue water as you flip through small rock tunnels and coast along the sandy bottom. You’re so close to your cave full of treasures that you can practically feel your collected items start to hum. Or wait, did you actually hear a buzzing sound? 

   You dive down further, dodging floating kelp and going into darker regions like places you shouldn’t be going. The water becomes colder, more frigid as you pass in between a rock formation. One that Scar won’t be able to fit through. 

   You look up at him swimming close by and you can hear his warning words come deep from within him. “Don’t go places where I can’t protect you. You know what lies beneath this area,” he warns as his large tail swishes back and forth, making circles in the water. 

   “Just give me a second. I hear something. Be right back,” you promise as you push your way through the narrow surface of crowded rocks. 

   You slide against the rocky terrain and follow the buzzing noise. It seems to reverberate off the rocks, making its way all the way down into your bones. The humming seems to ring in your ears, making its way all the way down to your fast beating heart. 

   Thump, thump, thump. 

   You can hear it, can feel it all the way down to your shiny fins. Whatever it is is calling to you, yelling your name as it echoes off the jagged rocks. You can hear Scar slashing against the water, but you keep going. You have to find out what it is. 

   The narrow rocks form into a wide open area that’s dark and cold, no other fish or coral reefs around this area. It’s a place you shouldn’t be. Before you can turn back around, you hear the humming noise pick up. It burns your ears as white noise takes hold of you, and when you look down is when you see something shiny sitting underneath a long grey rock. 

   You swim to the bottom of the dark area and brush away the sand that covers the hidden object. When you get ahold of what’s been humming and bring it back into the light, you freeze. What’s now in your hand is a long golden chain that holds the most beautiful clam shell you’ve ever seen before. Soft, creamy orange colors turn to purple and iridescent pink colors as you feel along every crevice of the shell. It’s unique, unlike any you had found before, and now it’s yours. 

   When you turn around to go show Scar what you have found, you’re stopped in place, unable to move as a long, slimy eel stands in your way of your only exit out of here. You gasp as your eyes go wide, remembering the warning your father had given you earlier. 

   Don’t talk to the eels, they only want to trick us. 

   “Well, well, well. So, someone finally found the magic necklace,” she says as she flashes you a sly smirk. 

   “Magic necklace?” you ask confused as you look back over the shiny shell. It didn’t look magical, not that you could see. 

   “My dear girl, that there is no ordinary necklace. It only shows itself to those who are worthy, to those pure of heart, to those desperate for something more,” she teases as she slithers around you with her cold, slimy tail. 

   You knit your eyebrows together and hold it tighter in your hand. “But what does it do? What makes it magical?” you ask conflicted. You shouldn’t be talking to an eel, shouldn’t even be here alone. But yet you stay, unable to leave as you need answers now. 

   “You long for legs, don’t you?” she smirks as a small laugh echoes around the dark water as you stare into the light that shines from behind the narrow rock formation. 

   “What makes you say that?” you ask sharply, not wanting to give your intentions away with Joel. 

   “It’s obvious, dear. That necklace there is a powerful thing. Put it on and you are free to go on land, have legs, explore the human world as if you were a human yourself.”

   “What?” you gasp as you feel your eyes widen more. 

   “Yes, child. Put it on and you’ll never have to worry about being stuck with a tail again. Unless that’s what you want. You’d be free to take it off anytime and return to the sea. It’s up to you, but looks like it’s yours now.”

   A low snicker cackles from her sharp teeth and her eyes glow a tinted yellow. Something malicious and evil sits in her voice, and you know something isn’t right. It’s almost like she is tricking you. 

   “You’re tricking me!” you accuse, voice higher as you shout your accusations. 

   “Oh, but I’m not. Don’t you trust me?” she laughs as she rubs up against your arm and swirls her tail against the back of your neck. You squirm at her cold touch. 

   “My father told me not to trust your kind,” you say carefully. 

   The eel spits in your direction. “Your father is a fool, child. I’m not lying to you when I say that necklace does just that. It’s an old, ancient magic. One so strong that it was kept in a tiny vessel and hidden away many years ago. You keep it safe, and it’s yours. Don’t let anyone take it from you because in the wrong hands it could be very, very dangerous,” she warns as she stalks around you slowly, her flashy eyes staring into yours like a hunter watching its prey. 

   You examine the necklace in your palm, watching the shiny shell glisten around your hold. The colors seem to swirl like a rainbow, the golden chain calling you to put it on. And you want to, you want to so bad. Human legs? Could you really go on land at your own free will without any consequences? No. There had to be consequences, there had to be something. 

   “What’s the catch?” you ask nervously, eye darting back to the slimy eel in front of you. 

   “The catch? Oh, yes. The catch,” she smiles a devious smirk your way that screams danger. This is dangerous, she is dangerous. “The catch is, don’t let it get broken or taken. For if you take it off on land, you have two days to make it back to the ocean.”

   “What happens if I don’t make it back in time?” you ask slowly, your voice as quiet as a sea urchin. 

   “You die,” she warns as your pupils expand into pure terror. “Basically, you’ll turn back into a mermaid and suffocate to death. Your body will turn to dust, and you’ll be left with nothing but a mere breeze carried out to sea.”

   “Oh.” You have no words, nothing to say except is this really what you want? To risk your own safety for a human? 

   “Well, go on now. Put it on, child,” she coaxes, her grimy teeth snarling up at you like a trickster would. 

   You slowly look at the necklace, turning it over as you think and think and think. Joel. The human world. So many things you want to see. Before you really think it through, you unclasp the latch and throw it around your neck, clipping the clasp into place as the glistening shell sits just above your breasts. This is it. This is what you always wanted. Right? 

   The eel laughs sadistically, curling her tail along your wrist as she brushes past you back into the dark shadows. “Remember, two days. Be careful out there, child. You never know who you might run into…”

   With that, she disappears into the dark depths of a cave, and you waste no time as you swim free of your confined area. You push your way through the narrow, rocky opening and meet scar on the other side. You see him eye your new flashy jewelry and see the way he looks at you as if you had done something bad. 

   You grip it tight and try to take his focus off it. “It’s nothing, Scar. Just something I found under a rock. It’s nothing to worry about.”

   You see him brush past you as he swims ahead of you, and you follow silently. You can already feel the judgement coming off his large body. Maybe you shouldn’t have taken it, maybe this was too risky, but you did. You did. No going back now. 

   You swim ahead of Scar, pushing your shimmery tail as fast as you can possibly go. You brush up against silky kelp beds, making bubbles swirl up to the surface like a whirlwind. You keep swimming and swimming and swimming until you’re there. Back at the boat. Back at his boat. 

   Pushing free to the surface, you feel the sunlight rain down on you as bursts of warmth hit your bare shoulders, letting the salt water drip down your radiant face as you slowly slip closer to the grand boat. The water is calm, the boat gently rocking side to side as you watch the sails slowly sway in the warm breeze. 

   You swim closer, keeping your head down as you circle one side of the boat. You see a crew of men shuffling their way back and forth on the deck, watching the way the men shout to each other as they work. One man with a blue bandanna across his matted hair is untangling a large fishing net, another is scrubbing the deck with an object you don’t know the name of. There’s no sign of Joel though. 

   You sulk on the surface and slap the edge of the water with your palm as you pout your bottom lip out. One look. You just wanted to see his beautiful face once until you could see him tonight. You slowly turn the other way, about to head back underwater, when suddenly you hear a high pitched whistle from the deck. You turn and freeze, your eyebrows knitting together as you see one of the men staring at you in awe. 

   Oh no. No, no, no. They weren’t supposed to see you. 

   He’s still staring at you, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as you hear him call out to the other men on the ship. You sink down into the water, dropping into the dark shadows as you stay still, afraid you’ll be seen again. 

   You weren’t supposed to go out until tonight. Why didn’t you just wait? 

   After a few minutes pass, you slip out of the shadows and swim back close to the surface, making sure not to stick your head out of the water. Scar swims past you with a warning, and you turn your head to tell him you’re okay. 

   “Everything’s fine, Scar. I think it’s safe now. I think…”

   Before you can finish your sentence, something rough and jagged falls on top of you. You try to swim away, but your tail gets tangled up and caught in something you can’t quite get out of. As you look back at what it is, your heart drops out of your chest. A net. 

   “Scar!” you scream, cries of bloody murder reaching the deep depths of the water. 

   No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Joel wouldn’t hurt you. Would he?

   The more you try to squirm, the more your tail gets twisted in the bindings. The net starts to reel you in, taking you up further to the surface. Scar tries to desperately get you out, but the netting only rubs up against his rough skin. 

   “Go on, I don’t want them to hurt you,” you say sadly to your friend. His big black eyes stare at you, but he silently agrees. 

   “And don’t tell father or my sisters, please. I’ll find a way back. This won’t be the end,” you promise. 

   You watch Scar swim off in a hurry, muttering words under his breath as he heads further beneath the darkness. You really hope he’ll keep his word and not tell your father. He’d kill every single man on this boat, including Joel. 

   As the net pulls you up further, you toss and turn. You lash at the bindings, but it only makes it tighter around your body. Your shimmery scales on your fins feel like they’re about to be pulled off the harder you fight. 

   Anxiety starts to take over, you feel like you’re suffocating underwater as you’re pulled to the surface. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire as the harsh net tears into your skin. You let out a blood curdling scream as the net scratches at your arm, forming a large gash as crimson blood starts seeping out. 

   You’re going to die, you’re never going to see your family again. Why the fuck did you put your faith in a human? Why?! 

   Joel hears the horrifying screams and sees his men hauling up the large, heavy net. Cold seaweed filled water starts dripping over the side of the wooden deck as the flash of a sparkly pink tail comes into clear focus. 

   Joel goes wide-eyed, dropping his golden telescope to the floor as he screams and runs to his crew. “What the fuck are you doing!” His voice is panicked, his heart pounding in his chest as he takes in your terrified face. He’s afraid they’ll kill you. 

   “Catching a mermaid, cap’n!” Jasper laughs out as he helps haul up his precious treasure. “Told ya mermaids were real, didn’t I?”

   Joel’s shocked, his boots frozen to the sea clad wood as his mind races. Without thinking, he runs over to the men and starts pushing them out of the way as the net comes crashing down to the deck. Salt water spills over the edges as you shiver in fright, horror written all over your beautiful face. 

   Your necklace seems to burn hot against your chest as the orange color glows brightly under the sunlight. You look down at your perfect tail and see the sparkly scales start to shed as the tail starts to evaporate. You stare in horror as your tail splits in two, forming smooth legs in its place. 

   Suddenly you realize you’re naked as the men stare in hunger, their mouths drooling as they take in your curves. You hug your knees to your chest to try to pry their eyes away. Cold. You feel so cold, so scared as the men surround you like starving hounds. You want to go home. You want to go home. This was a mistake, a huge mistake. They’ll hurt you. They’ll hurt you. 

   Joel pushes the men out of the way and starts peeling off his white button-up shirt as his worried look encases all of his features. He bends down to your level and wraps the shirt around you to cover your exposed body up. 

   “Can you guys back up? For the love of God, give her some air! Christ,” he yells out annoyed as he looks back at you with wide eyes, his calloused hand brushing the side of your cheek as you push back out of his reach. 

   “Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he responds as he puts his hands in the air as if to show he’s harmless. Your body relaxes a little, but you still don’t fully trust him. 

   “A mermaid, cap’n! What happened to her tail?” a man with shaggy hair hanging over his slumped shoulders and dirty brown shirts yells appalled. 

   “Didn’t know mermaids could come on land with legs. What sorcery is that?” another rugged pirate asks as he untangles the rough net they used to catch you. 

   You cover your ears and sink your knees deep into your chest as you hide your face from view. You want to go back home, get away from all the noise of prying eyes and raspy voices. You regret coming to shore, you regret it all, you shouldn’t have come because you trusted a human. How could you have been so stupid? 

   “Silence!” Joel yells as he bends down to your level and cups your chin as he raises your head to face him. You shiver, your body sinking into itself as you shake from the cold air and damp shirt. 

   “Hey, it’s alright, sweetheart. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya.”

   His calloused fingers linger under your chin, dragging along your smooth skin as you stare into honey flecked eyes. You try to look away, but you can’t escape those eyes. Those beautiful orbs made of light and dark brown flecks mixing together to make the prettiest shade of brown eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. Those alone tell you he’s safe, he won’t hurt you. 

   Safe. He’s safe. 

   Your eyes travel down his glistening tan, salt water coated skin as you take in how broad he is. Flexed biceps and spidery veins skating down his entire arms. He’s so handsome.

   Suddenly, he’s gripping at your wrist. “Your arm. It’s bleeding,” he says with a rushed breath as he scans the large cut on your forearm. “C’mon, let’s go clean that up. Can you stand?” he asks as he reaches out a large hand. 

   You take a minute to weigh your options. You can either stay in the presence of the grimy pirates, or you can go with Joel where it’s quiet. You choose Joel. When you lift yourself up with your arms and try to take a step forward, your legs start to shake and your knees cave in. You almost go tumbling to the deck until strong arms catch you before you hit the hard floor. 

   “Whoa, slow down there. Here, let me help you.” Joel picks you up and cradles you in his arms as he starts to walk toward the stairs that’ll lead him beneath the boat. 

   “Get back. Give her some air,” Joel growls as his men start to part the sea, dirty bodies backing up to make way for Joel to get through. 

   You unknowingly sink into his warm chest, hiding your face in the crook of his neck so you won’t have to see their wandering gazes to your barely covered body. Joel pulls you tighter against his chest as he feels your discomfort. 

   “I got ya, sweetheart. It’s alright, they’re not gonna hurt ya. I promise,” he says against the shell of your ear, and somehow you believe him. He’s not lying to you. Why would he?

   He takes you down some wooden steps and back into a large room. You slowly peek up from his chest and take a look around the room. Light shines through the little portholes of the boat. A couple of glowing lamps hang from the wooden walls as a table covered by maps and compasses lays in the middle of the room. A small bed with crisp white sheets sits in the left corner of the room, and pictures of the ocean and secluded islands line the walls. It’s very… cozy in here. 

   “Is this your room?” you ask as your eyes scan the small area. It has to be his room, it just screams Joel. 

  “Mhm. It’s where I come to sleep and scan out maps when I’m on the boat. I live just up the coast, but I spend so much time out on the water that I needed my own little space. A place where my crew wouldn’t bother me,” he chuckles out as he carefully sets you down in a wooden chair. 

   “Do they just sleep upstairs?”

   “No,” he laughs as he shakes his head, “They have their own little quarters down on the opposite side of the boat. Didn’t need them wakin’ me up with their snoring and drunken nonsense.”

   You laugh as you see a smile curl around his soft lips and a dimple forms in the center of his cheek. You swear he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. So strong yet so soft. You get so caught up in his charm that you almost forget you’re shaking and your arm is bleeding. 

   “You cold, sweetheart?” he asks softly as he grabs a couple of fluffy towels and a first aid kit from the other side of the room. 

   “Just a little,” you say with chattering teeth as his white button-up shirt barely grazes the bottom of your thighs. You’re very aware now that you’re almost naked in front of him which gives you a weird fluttering sensation in your low stomach that you’ve never felt before. How strange. 

   “Here ya go. Maybe this’ll help.” He throws a soft white towel over your shoulders, and you wrap it around yourself as it brings you a little comfort and warmth. “Better?”

   “Better,” you confirm with the nod of your head. 

   “Good, that’s good. Now let’s take a look at that arm.” 

   He rolls the cotton sleeve up slowly and reaches for something that’s in a clear bottle. As he unscrews it, he says, “Now this might sting a bit.”

   When he pours some of the liquid onto the cut, you flinch and try to pry your arm away, but he holds tight to it. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright, the worst part is over,” he reassures as he presses a towel into the wound and rests a hand gently on your knee. The sudden shift of his softness makes you stop flinching and makes you look down at him. 

   His soft brown eyes threaten to swallow you whole, his crooked smile could calm raging hurricanes with how beautiful it shines around the room. Like the sunlight beaming through the waters of Capri, all crystal like and calming. 

   He watches you closely as he wraps your cut up with some kind of material you don’t know the name of. His touch is so delicate, so soft as he takes the proper care to make sure you’re not hurting anymore. 

   Warm. He’s so warm. So very gentle. And you see yourself falling for him even more now. 

   “There ya go. All bandaged up. We can probably take this off tomorrow, but just want to make sure it doesn’t get infected.” 

   “Thank you,” you say quietly as your fingers trail along the clothed material that covers your wound. 

   “It was nothin’, don’t even mention it. It’s the least I can do for my stupid men catchin’ you in that net. I’m really sorry for that, I had no idea. Those men had no right and I’m gonna give them hell about it the rest of the week and…”

   You silence him as you reach your shaky arm out and cup the side of his jaw as your thumb trails along the lines of his dark, patchy scruff. His eyes widen as he looks up at you under the fringe of his dark eyelashes. His full attention is on you now. 

   “Joel, it’s okay. I know now you didn’t mean to harm me. You don’t have to apologize for them. It wasn’t your doing.”

   “Yeah, but still. They could’ve harmed you even more if I wasn’t there. They could’ve…”

   “Joel.” Your calming voice stops him again as the panic seems to leave his eyes for good. “It’s okay, really.”

   Joel looks unsure of himself but nods his head anyway. His calloused fingers still graze along your knee as the contact of his skin on yours seems to send a fire down your legs. 

   Legs. That’s right, you have legs now. Joel’s eyes look down at your long, smooth legs as he takes them in slowly, his eyes shifting back up to yours as one of his hands slide down one of your calves cautiously. Your breathing hitches at the feel of his calloused fingers on your skin. 

   “How is this possible? Your legs, I mean. I didn’t know mermaids could exist out of the water,” he says with the expression of surprise written all over his tan face. 

   “With this,” you say as you hold up the iridescent shell necklace around your neck, watching the way the pink and orange colors shine around the room from the glow of the outside sun. “It’s a magic necklace I found. As long as I wear this, I’ll have human legs. I’m free to take it off whenever to go back to sea, but I have to wear it on land to be able to survive outside the water.”

   Joel reaches up and cups the shell in his hand, tracing the crevices of the shell with his thumb as his brows knit together to take in everything you just said. He looks starstruck, not believing his own eyes as he sets it back down to your chest. 

   “Magic necklace, huh? Mermaids? This is all unbelievable,” he chuckles as he shakes his head. “I can’t believe I met a mermaid this week, and now you have legs? Christ,” he murmurs as he stands up and starts pacing back and forth in front of you while his right hand rakes through his thick scruff. 

   “Is that bad?” you ask cautiously, afraid he’ll leave at any second and leave you here all alone. 

   He stops pacing and comes back over to you. He bends back down on one knee and gently cups your face as you gasp out in surprise. The touch of his hand is so warm, so soothing. You want to stay like this forever. 

   “No, sweetheart. S’not bad. It’s just… how is it that I met the most beautiful mermaid and got you on my boat now? It’s almost like it’s…”

   “Fate?” you answer for him, your eyes sinking into his light honey eyes that seem to set your soul on fire. 

   “Exactly that. Fate.” He repeats as he looks closely into your eyes. 

   His thumb traces over your bottom lip as his brown eyes flick to your mouth. He looks like he wants to kiss you, looks like he wants to devour you with his plush lips that call to you like one of your siren songs. He’s so close, so very close as he grazes his thumb gently back and forth. 

   Before you can react, he gets up off his knee and holds out his hands to you. “Can you walk?” he asks as he reaches out to you. 

   “I don’t know…” you answer quietly as you shift your feet beneath you. 

   “C’mere. I’ll help you. I won’t let you fall, promise.”

   You nod and take one more look at your new legs before you grab his hands and lift yourself up. Your legs shake beneath you, but Joel has a strong grip on you. 

   “Alright now. Take a few steps for me, walk towards me,” he instructs as you listen to his words. You take one, two, three steps as your feet start to get a hold of how to move on their own. Your legs feel more firm underneath you the more steps you take. Joel leads you around the whole living corridors as you take one hand off him. 

   “There ya go, sweetheart. Doin’ so good. Now try without me. Go on.” He slips his other hand from you and watches as you take the next few steps over to him without any help. Your legs feel stronger, more powerful with each step you take. It’s not so hard after all. 

   “I think I’ve got it!” 

   “Yeah, think ya do, sweetheart.” He crosses his arms and leans against the hollow table as the warm brown flecks in his eyes seer into yours like two stones being melded into one. 

   You smile up at him shyly and then come across the maps splayed all across the table in a heap. Your fingers trail along the sheets of paper as you take in all the different markings on the maps. Red circles, black lines, words sprawled in different locations on the maps. It looks like he was studying them closely. 

   “Are these yours?” you ask curiously as he circles around and comes up next to you. 

   “Yeah, these are all mine,” he answers as he twists one of the colorful maps around. 

   “What are you looking for?” you ask wondrously as you scan along a long line next to the shoreline. 

   “Well, there was a shipwreck many years ago that happened around this area. There’s said to be some rare treasures hidden around this location from the wreck. I’ve been trying to find it for a year now, but no such luck. There’s other areas I could be searching, but this one just piqued my interest. So I haven’t given up.”

   Your brows furrow together as you study one of the maps, letting your mind wander into far off places. “Maybe I could help you.”

   His eyes go wide as his mouth drops open. “You’d help me?” 

   “Why not? I know these waters better than anyone. And treasure? It’s one of my favorite things to find. I’m always collecting what I can from shipwrecks that people don’t even know about.”

   “Really?” he asks incredulously as stares at you in wonder, like you’re a goddess from another world. 

   “Really,” you giggle as you face back towards him, “but only if you show me your world, too.”

   His eyes fade into a warm honeysuckle brown as his lips relax into a crooked smile. “Deal.”

   As your eyes fade back down to the marked up maps, he starts to tell you something else. “Ya know, I have a whole room back at home full of treasures I’ve collected over the years. In fact, I have an entire library full of artifacts and books you’d probably love.”

   Your eyes shoot up in a frenzy as your mouth drops open. “You do?”

   “Mhm. Ya know, I was plannin’ to go back home for a few days tomorrow. Would you… would you want to come back with me? I could show you around the land. Could show you around my place. Could show you anythin’ you wanted to see.”

   Your eyes gaze into his as his hand slowly grazes over yours, and you swear you see stars in his eyes. “I’d show you the whole world, gorgeous.” He grabs your hand and brushes his lips over the back of your knuckles, and you about drop to your knees right there. 

   Charming. He’s so charming. 

   “Yes,” you whisper out, your voice deceiving you as you shake your head out of the love sick trance you’re under. “I’d love to see it with you.” 

   He nods his head and settles it. “Alright then. It’s a deal.” 

   He drops your hand back to the table, and he spends hours after that showing you all his maps, telling you all about his adventures on the water, and you just soak in every bit of him that you can. 

   By the time the sun goes down and the lanterns light up the dim area, you’re yawning and trying hard not to fall asleep. Throughout all the events of the day, it’s just about knocked you completely out. 

   “Here, why don’t you take my bed tonight? You look exhausted.” 

   You shake your head and try to refuse. “No, no. I couldn’t possibly take your bed.”

   Joel places a hand gently on your bicep and lingers there. “Please, just take it. I have a small cot in the corner I can dig out. I’m alright, you take the bed tonight. Please.”

   His calloused fingers linger on your arm, and you feel the heat all the way through the cotton shirt as it simmers down into your blood like hot lava filling your lungs. You take another look at his lips that hang just inches from yours and whisper out quietly, “Okay.”

   He drops his hand from your arm and grabs a clean t-shirt from his small cedar closest. “Here, put this on. I'm sure you want something more comfortable to sleep in. I’ll get you some real clothes tomorrow. There’s so many dresses I think you’d love, I’ll pick some up tomorrow,” he confirms as he holds out his hand for you to take the white cotton t-shirt. 

   Your hand grazes his, and you can’t help but always gasp when his skin comes in contact with yours. It feels electric, like you were made to touch him. You take the shirt from him and he turns around and walks to the other end of the room. “Go on now. I won’t peek. Just want ya in somethin’ more dry.” 

   Your eyes flick to him, and he keeps his word. You quickly unbutton the long sleeved shirt and drop it to the floor. When the shirt hits the ground, you see Joel fighting with himself to not take a quick peek at your body. You hang there for just a second gazing across at him. You watch the way his strong back muscles flex as his jaw clenches up, his fist flexing at his side as he fights to keep himself composed. 

   You almost wish he’d turn around because there’s a weird sensation between your thighs that you can’t quite pinpoint. Strange. He makes you feel so strange. So alive. It’s just so weird. 

   You avert your eyes from Joel and slide the cotton shirt over your head as it grazes your thighs. You climb into bed and feel just how comfortable the soft sheets and white blankets feel on your skin. This might even be more comfortable than your shiny clam shell bed back under the sea. 

   “Alright, I’m dressed,” you confirm as he slowly turns around and walks over to you as his boots scuff across the wooden floor.

   “Is it warm enough for ya? You comfortable enough?” he asks as his hands come to rest on the side of the bed. 

   “Mhm. It’s perfect,” you yawn as you turn to the left to get a better view of his sun tanned face. 

   “Good. Well, get some sleep, sweetheart. Got a busy day tomorrow.”

   He trails his fingers over your jawline as he runs the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone slowly. Your breath hitches in your throat as he so carefully grazes it down to your bottom lip again. You really think he’ll kiss you this time, but he crushes those hopes as soon as he drops his fingers from your face. 

   “Let me know if you need anythin’, sweetheart. I’ll be right here.”

   You sigh and watch him set up his little cot in the corner of the opposite side of the room, wishing he was in the bed with you instead. As he sits down after it’s set up, you start to close your eyes as the last few words leave your lips before darkness takes over. “Goodnight, Joel.”

   “Goodnight, my little mermaid.” 

   And then you fade into the darkness. 

   Joel stays up for the next hour just watching you sleep. He watches the way your hair falls over your shoulders as you hug the cotton pillow to your cheek. He watches the way your chest rises and falls softly when you sleep. He notices the long eyelashes that kiss your skin as a small smile creeps over his lips. He thinks you’re so beautiful, so perfect. He knows he’s falling fast, he knows he should be more careful, but with you he doesn’t want to be cautious. He wants to dive in head first and drown in your saltwater coated skin.   He wants to be the one. He wants to be your only one. And he will be. He will.

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