#First Daughter reader

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 1

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: 14.4k 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* Not much for this chapter! Mostly fluff, a little flirting, and playful but on-point use of the term 'tramp stamp'. Summary: On a failed date at the local market, Marcus runs into an old friend and gets an invitation to visit. The beautiful inn and fantastic food were explicit in the invite -- but you are a complete surprise to him. Notes: Welcome, welcome, welcome my lovelies! As a girl who grew up on The West Wing and fosters an unapologetic love of all things romance, a story like this has been on my wish list to write for a very long time. I hope you're all ready for a cast of new characters and the grand appearance of Pedro's character from Graceland, because it's time for Marcus Pike to meet his soulmate! 🧡🧡🧡

There’s something about the hustle and bustle of D.C., that while it can invigorate someone and inspire them to live life as fast as possible, it can also drain them. At least, that’s what Marcus Pike has learned from the last three years of therapy. That and he’s prone to rushing into relationships, being in love with love, as Dr. Barnes would caution him.

It seems sometimes as if he’s unlucky in love, despite the universe providing a perfect match for him, he’s never found her. Always looking, but also being open to loving someone who doesn’t share marks or scars. Someone who just wants a stable and steady man to worship them and give them the world.

He hasn’t dated in almost three years. His therapist had advised him to focus on himself. To work through his emotions of a failed college marriage, a failed engagement. To make himself happy with who he is before introducing another person into the mix. He had thought that’s what he was doing, but apparently he had been wrong.

Finally feeling ready to date again, he had dipped his toes back in the water. Only to have it backfire tremendously. So much so, that he finds himself walking around the Eastern Market on his own. His idea of a farmer’s market casual date obviously not a good one, according to the woman who had tossed the drink he had bought her on the trash and stomped off, abandoning him to feel like a fool.

Smiling faces beam back at him from the covers of glossy gossip magazines, flashing headlines critiquing fashions worn to the recent inauguration ceremony and parties. The new president and her family wave from above the fold of newspapers — the happy family that Marcus himself doesn’t have. Ignoring the rude reminder, he wanders through the stalls and vendors of Eastern Market aimlessly until he reaches the family-owned sweet shop that he’s been coming to for years now. They know him, and like him, and his sweet tooth knows no bounds. There’s another man at the counter just before Marcus so he stands back, but Jenny waves hello from behind the counter. “Morning Marcus! Gimme one second and I’ll be right with you.” She says, turning back to the order marked Juan in her big, looping handwriting. “Six cannoli, right? Two pistachio, two double chocolate, and two cherry chocolate?”

“Right.” The man in a corduroy jacket with his short hair trimmed neatly nods. “Thanks, Jen. The girls are going to be over the moon.”

Another reminder of a life he craves. Marcus frowns slightly and tries to remember what his therapist has told him. Everyone moves at their own pace. Just because he’s not juggling two kids, a dog and a lovely wife with his workload doesn’t mean he’s failing. It just means he’s not met the right person, soulmate or not.

The other man pays for his order and turns to leave but stops dead in the middle of a cordial nod when he sees Marcus standing a few feet away. Sure he had heard Jenny say hi to someone…but he hadn’t looked. Now though? He huffs a laugh at the ghost of his past. “Pike?” They’d been mistaken as brothers — or for each other — so many times back at the Academy that it would be impossible not to recognize Marcus Pike.

“Badillo?” It’s amazing to see the other agent, although he had heard that he had left the Bureau after a friendly fire shooting. He looks good though, and Marcus cracks into the first real grin of the morning since being left high and dry. “What the hell? How are you doing, man?” He asks, coming in for a friendly hug while being mindful of the box in Juan’s hand.

“Good! Good. Errands.” Juan huffs, returning Marcus’s hug with equal surprise and affection. The men had been quite good friends at one time, more than a few years ago now. “Pregnant wife gets whatever pregnant wife wants, ya know?” He grins, bright and shining. “When did you get back to DC?”

“Pregnant wife, huh?” Despite the knife to his heart, Marcus paints on a grin, happy for his old friend. “Three years ago.” He shrugs slightly. “Heading up Art Crimes now. How about you? I heard you got out.” He lifts his eyebrows, allowing Juan to talk if he wants or brush it off if he doesn’t.

“I did.” Juan nods, knowing that various stories circulated after he left the Bureau. Most of them false. “Decided to take a little road trip vacation to clear my head and ended up meeting my soulmate in Yosemite on day two of the whole thing, and I followed her East.” He shrugs, ever the unapologetic romantic just like Marcus. They had had that in common. “How’s Lara?” He asks, remembering the woman that had been Mrs. Pike during their Academy days. Marcus had been over the moon for her. “Is she liking being back?”

Marcus grimaces a little and shrugs. “She’s, uh, we got divorced about ten years ago.” He tells him. “She found out she did have a soulmate.”

“Ah shit.” Blowing out a breath and shuffling his feet, Juan rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “I’m sorry, man. That’s—there’s just no easy way to get through something like that.”

“It’s okay.” Marcus had loved Lara, but he wasn’t going to stand in the way of soulmates. It wouldn’t be right. “It was actually a very easy divorce; she hated hurting me. More than I can say for the last date, or last fiancée I’ve had.”

“Shit.” Juan huffs again, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s eleven in the morning but I feel like I ought to be buying you a drink, man.” Hearing that someone as genuinely good as Marcus Pike is has had his heart bashed so often is a fucking bummer, and Juan chews on his lip for a second before his head tilts in that Universal signal of natural curiosity. “I’ve got time today. If you want to hang out? Catch up?” He offers, knowing that drinks will most likely come later if the two old friends spend the day getting back on the same page.

Marcus chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Do I look that dejected?” He asks, even though he’s not really looking for an answer. “I was supposed to be on a date, I figured a farmer’s market/brunch date would be easy enough and yet thoughtful, but I was ditched.” He snorts. “I have zero luck it seems.” He nods his head towards the cannoli. “But you can’t leave your pregnant wife waiting on those.”

“No, I can’t.” Sydney is waiting back at the restaurant with bated breath, he knows that, but he does offer Marcus a smile. “But she does run a restaurant, so you don’t have to be brunch-less unless you choose to be.”

“Yeah?” He perks up at the idea of trying out a new place, always loving brunch foods. “Where at? I might have to take a spin over there.”

“Her place is called Il Corvo.” It takes a second, but Juan digs a business card for the restaurant out of his jacket pocket and hands it over. “It’s the in-house restaurant at The Inn at Jones Point in Alexandria.” He reports proudly, always ready to brag about his soulmate’s amazing success. Running a restaurant is no small feat. “I know the card says the dining room opens at 4pm, but ignore that. She does brunch for guests at the inn and for special guests from time to time.”

“Are you sure?” Marcus frowns slightly. “I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s not imposing, trust me.” Knowing his wife as well as he does, Juan is more than certain she’ll be doting on Marcus in no time. “As long as you’re on board for Italian food, come by any time you want.”

“I’m out on the bike.” Marcus tells Juan, remembering how the other agent also loved to ride motorcycles. “I might swing by sometime. Normally go for rides on the weekend.”

"Anytime you want," Juan repeats, and he hopes Marcus understands how entirely he means it. "It's good to see you again, man."

“Good to see you too.” Marcus means that, smiling at the former agent. “Nice to see that you are okay.”

The two men part with a smile and a nod, and Juan hustles away to get his precious cargo back out to his soulmate. Maybe he'll pitch the idea of inviting Marcus to their next board game night if Sydney and her best friend don't mind the extra company. Not that they ever mind extra company.

Marcus doesn’t mean for it to be two weeks from the chance encounter with Juan before he steers his bike down the country, winding roads towards this inn that he had been told about. He had a case that required him to travel. Then it was reports and the never ending budget fiascos that new presidencies always bring, his boss wanting a new projections for the fiscal year for some reason.

Now though, he’s enjoying the scenery as the wind blows over his face and he leans into the curve, enjoying the small thrill that races up his spine from the inherent danger.

The winter has been mild so far and all the snow left behind by the storm the area had gotten while he was traveling has melted, making the ride an easy and calming one. He had intentionally driven a long route around Alexandria and the surrounding area, letting him arrive at his destination a little after noon on that cold, sunny Sunday. The inn is a large brick farmhouse, probably originally colonial but it looks like it was redone sometime during the Federalist architecture craze of the early 1800s. Now its clean white painted window frames and front porch are as welcoming as the pristinely kept front garden. The Inn at Jones Point proclaims a sign out front, which is accompanied by a smaller complimentary sign with an impressionist painted black bird that reads Il Corvo in an artistic script. There are cars in the lot with a plethora of states listed on their license plates, another motorcycle that he has to assume is Juan's, and a very government-issued-looking black car parked close to the building.

Marcus is enough of a romantic to fully appreciate the appeal of the property and more importantly, grounded enough to be able to appreciate it without having a partner here to enjoy it with. Since working with his therapist, he's spent a lot of the last three years 'dating himself'. Instead of waiting to make a date to try out a new restaurant, he goes by himself. Not limiting himself to new experiences with partners, he has found that he enjoys the hunt for the perfect spots to eat. The little Indian restaurant he had found is an absolute gem and he is looking forward to discovering a new little brunch spot. If this place is half as good as Juan says, he might make it a monthly habit while he can spend some time with his old friend.

Inside, the lobby of the inn is bustling. Guests sit in plush chairs with travel brochures or excitedly type on their phones. A family is gathered around a display of pamphlets for different travel experiences and tourist attraction. Another guest is hovering around the front desk, seemingly waiting for someone to return.

From the rooms off to the left, wave after wave of stunning smells wafts past Marcus as he looks around. A set of French doors stands open but the hostess stand for Il Corvo stands empty while a small number of diners sit inside, happily chattering over their meals. The scent of fresh coffee permeates everything else just a second before he can see why, as a woman in a blue silk shirt comes around the corner with two travel cups — presumably full of coffee — for the guest standing at the desk.

“Here we are, Mrs. Richards. Thank you for your patience, the pot was just finishing brewing. These will keep you nice and warm while you walk around Old Town.” Smiling as the woman walks away, your eyes survey the room and land on the new arrival with a touch of confusion. “Good afternoon,” you greet, in your typical sunshiny tone. This man isn’t a guest and you genuinely almost thought it was Juan for a second — even though you just saw Juan in the restaurant. “How can I help you today?”

“Hi— uh, I—” Marcus realizes he knows you. Your mother’s picture hangs on his office wall next to the current FBI director’s, and furthermore, it’s hard to not see the darling First Daughter in some news story – although it doesn’t seem like you enjoy the press. “Yeah, sorry, Juan said that brunch is served here?” He asks with an apologetic smile. “I’m Marcus, uh, Pike. We were in the Academy together and I ran into him a few weeks ago.”

You’re prettier than he ever imagined the pictures and news reels, your voice curling into his stomach pleasantly. In true, Marcus Pike fashion. He finds himself instantly intrigued by you.

“Oh, you’re Marcus!” As bright and cheery as you sound, something flips in your stomach and clenches at your chest and you swallow down the oh god he’s really hot impulse that you haven’t felt in…well, in years. This guy looks like someone took Juan and gave him broader shoulders and better hair, and put a little bit more James Dean in his style. “It’s really nice to meet you.” You introduce yourself, probably unnecessarily, but it’s good manners and keeps you from getting nervous or going off track. “Come on this way. Juan said you might be stopping by but he wasn’t sure when.”

“I’m sorry, should I have called first?” He asks, feeling guilty and slightly in the way. The last thing that he wants is to cause an imposition.

“Not at all.” You slip out from behind your desk and wave for him to follow you. “He’s been excited to introduce you to everybody.” The inn is a decent size, with the ground floor being public spaces and all the rooms upstairs being ready-made for guests except for the attic apartment, and you quickly lead the way through the rooms toward the restaurant kitchen.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve caught up.” Marcus admits. “We were close in the academy, most people through we were twins to be honest.” He chuckles slightly.

“I almost thought you were him when I saw you,” you admit, glad to know you aren’t alone in it. Juan had said they look alike but it really is extreme. “Here we are.” Humming as you push open the door to the restaurant’s bar, you huff a soft laugh when a woman slightly taller than you with masses of curls in a tight bun at the nape of her neck in a black suit sidesteps the pair of you and opens the kitchen door to look inside before letting you in. “Thank you, Agent Bailey.” As odd as it is to have constant supervision like this, you’re doing your best to be patient and understanding with it. “Come on into the kitchen,” you offer to Marcus. “Brunch is almost over and this is where Juan sits when he hangs out.”

“Really? The inner sanctum already?” The tone is joking, but Marcus knows that for a lot of chefs, the kitchen is their sacred place. He wouldn’t know, because his kitchen is used to make coffee, but he’s had a few relationships with amateur gourmet cooks.

“Marcus!” There’s no question that this is where he’s supposed to be, when Juan is waving from a corner of the kitchen and immediately zips over to say hello. “How are you, man? Good to see you!”

“Hey.” He grins when he sees the other man, obviously happier here than any time in the Bureau and he’s happy for him. He seems like a completely different man, just from the quick glance. Perhaps it’s the fact that he found his soulmate. “Sorry it’s been a few weeks. Got caught up on a case.”

“I completely get it,” he assures his friend. “It’s been kind of crazy around here anyway. Weddings booked every single weekend and the restaurant stuffed full with reservations.” He beams, proud as a peacock, and waves slightly as you disappear back out through the bar to return to your counter. The inn is full up with last night’s wedding party and you have your hands full. “I want you to meet my wife,” Juan says, clapping Marcus in the shoulder and pulling him further into the kitchen.

There are only two people cooking right now and they are both winding down. Enough that the petite woman with tied-up hair and a look of intense concentration on her face can look up and smile. “I hear you talking about me,” she warns with a laugh.

“Syd, this is Marcus Pike.” Juan introduces, bringing his friend out in front of him. “Marcus, this is Sydney. The gorgeous goddess the universe decided to grace me with.”

“Nice to meet you.” Again that pesky pang of longing lurches inside Marcus but he throws her a smile and takes her hand after she offers it immediately. “I��ve only heard angelic things about you, so rest assured, he’s not talking ill.”

“He’s does nothing but tell stories about you since you guys ran into each other at Eastern Market.” Sydney tells him honestly. “Can I make you something to eat?”

“I was hoping to experience the brunch option that Juan was bragging about.” Marcus admits as he glances around, admiring the state of the art kitchen. “Didn’t expect to see this from the historical facade.” He admits. “It’s charming though.” He adds, hoping that neither one of you take offense.

"Charming is her specialty." Sydney points her thumb in the direction of the door, indicating the main lobby of the inn. "We took over running this place about three years ago now. The previous owners weren't able to keep up anymore so they sold to her and we updated the restaurant. Modern Italian dinners and brunch for the inn's guests. It's a big step up from the B&B that this place used to be." Grinning proudly, Sydney moves over to the nearest counter and plops a paper menu down at the stool beside her husband. "What would you like?"

Marcus looks at the menu and lifts a brow, impressed by the sophisticated menu. This isn’t some little spaghetti shop that pretends to be Italian. “It’s been so long since I’ve had good Uova in Purgatorio.” He moans. “Since the last time I was in Naples.” He clicks his tongue. “But I want to try the ricotta pancakes too.”

"Then you will get both," Sydney insists, clicking her tongue and getting to work. "A G-man in Naples, huh?" She barely glances up from her work as she moves. "Art crimes must be the fancy branch of the Bureau."

“I work on international cases with Interpol and Scotland Yard.” He explains as he sits down and admires the fluidity of her movements in the kitchen. She’s completely at home in her space and it’s evident she’s in command. He’s slightly envious of her comfort in a kitchen, if he’s honest.

"Oh, so it definitely is the fancy branch." She laughs. Juan hops up from his seat to grab coffee for himself and Marcus, brushing a kiss on her cheek as he moves past, and the other woman who had been cooking moves away to the other end of the room to work on cleaning up from the brunch rush.

"Fancy branch of what?" The kitchen door swings open again and you come strolling back inside looking infinitely more tired than you had just a few minutes ago but still in a generally good mood. "The wedding party is finally gone. I am officially taking my break."

Marcus stares at you for a moment and then looks down at his hands, feeling like he might be bragging if he were to tell you what they’ve been talking about. There’s something about you that is knocking him off kilter, he’s normally a little more confident than this.

"Art crimes is swanky, apparently." Sydney tells you, never stopping or slowing as she moves around like a controlled whirlwind. "Eggs in purgatory and ricotta pancakes for your brunch? I'll make up a big batch." They're two of your favourite things anyway and it's easy enough to just make a double serving of each when she knows that your break time is always mealtime.

"That sounds incredible," you moan in agreement, making a beeline for the industrial refrigerator in the corner of the room to make yourself an iced latte that is far more espresso than milk. A generous swirl of flavored syrup joins your cup before you plop down on the edge of the counter and sip your drink with a happy sigh. Normally people exclaim over you when they realize they recognize you but Marcus Pike hasn't said a word — and you wonder if he doesn't recognize you from the papers or if you even care. It's nice to not have someone make a fuss for once. To just be nice and not suck up to you for being the President's oldest child.

“Weddings take it out of you, huh?” Marcus asks, smirking a little at the drink in your hand, although it looks delicious. “Or were they just demanding?”

"It was a big party. Very specific needs." Sipping your drink and finally sitting is immediately relaxing, and you're always ready to meet new people. Especially when they're someone that your best friend's husband speaks of so highly. "Nothing I can't handle, but weddings are always tricky. It's the most important day of at least one person's life, so you always want to try to make it as perfect for them as you can. Thankfully," you gesture around you. "I have an incredible team. Syd is the best Italian chef in the Chesapeake Bay and Juanito is an incredible event coordinator."

Marcus snorts and cuts his eyes over at Badillo. “He always did have an eye for details.” He admits, snickering at the nickname you’ve bestowed on the former federal agent. “Although it’s surprising that it’s manifested in wedding planning.” He teases playfully.

"Event planning," Juan clarifies, but he's grinning regardless. "We host a lot here. Weddings, anniversaries, holiday parties, all kinds of personal events. I get to put my organizational mind to work on it. It's actually pretty rewarding."

"Don't let him sell himself short. Juan plans a hell of a wedding." There is pride on your face, pride for your friend and in your work "We've gotten written up in a bunch of bridal magazines and on websites the last few years."

“Good job, Juanito.” If there’s anything that Marcus enjoyed more than the courses in the academy, it was busting his friend’s balls. All in good fun of course, he had taken his share of ribbing as well. It was par for the course. “That sounds like a hell of a job, making people happy and sharing in their special moments.”

"We do our best." Juan will never take the credit for himself, always attributing the effort to the team as a whole. This time, though, he flashes a knowing grin at you. "Although the next one we plan might be a hell of a lot bigger than what we do here."

“Oh?” Marcus asks, turning towards you. “Are you getting married soon?” His eyes drop discreetly to your hand and he tries to remember what he’s read about you but for some reason, he’s drawing a blank.

“No, Juan just likes to tease.” You shake it off with a roll of your eyes, knowing that — unfortunately — your friend is completely right. If or when it does happen, it will be a damn circus. “It’s this…guy that I met last year, and it’s been really good and he really took all the stress of the last year in stride, and these two love to tease.” In truth, you’ve been intentionally moving forward slowly with the junior Congressman from Maryland that you met at a campaign event you attended with your mother last year. Sam is a good guy and has big ideas for the future. It’s just that you normally dive into relationships so fast and so deep that your heart does all the talking before your mind can catch up. And now that you’re a public figure, you can’t afford to have that happen again. “I’m perfectly content to watch other people have their big days for now.”

“I can imagine that it’s hard to have a relationship right now.” He sympathizes. “The press either treats you like a darling celebrity or some kind of public spectacle, right?” He asks, curious as to your view on the entire thing. Personally, he hated the idea of politics taking on a celebrity flare and you aren’t on politics, your mother is.

“I’m honestly lucky that my younger siblings take some of the focus,” you admit. So he did recognize you. It’s nice that he didn’t fuss. You’re grateful for that. “My brother is in law school and my sister is in undergrad and they’re both living in the White House while they study but…yeah. We all agreed to give up our privacy for a while so Mom can do some good work. That means relationships aren’t easy right now.”

“It’s good you had a choice.” Marcus admits. “Sometimes I watch the campaigns for some of the politicians and it’s obvious the family would rather be anywhere else and are putting on a facade.” He shrugs, not wanting to delve too deep into a subject you probably are uncomfortable with. “Nice that you don’t have too much interference here, except for the Secret Service agent.”

"Agent Bailey's okay." In fact, she's sitting outside the kitchen door right now, giving you a bit of space and privacy to try to pretend you still have a halfway normal life. "We're still getting used to each other. I had somebody else during the campaign, but she's been assigned to my sister now. It all works out in the end." Smiling, you take another sip of your coffee and wonder why your stomach is fluttering over this very kind man who has been introduced into your lives very much by chance. It's...unsettling. To say the very least. "But that's plenty about me. How about you, Special Agent Marcus Pike? Where're you from? How are you liking Art Crimes?" You grin, throwing him a mischievous expression. "Who'd you vote for, for president?"

Marcus laughs, a real laugh that comes from his belly and he relaxes. “Let’s see…I’m from the great state of Texas - Go Rangers.” He ticks off. “I love Art Crimes, especially when we can recover sentimental pieces and keep “collectors”,” he uses air quotes, “from locking away art from being enjoyed by all.” He grins at your last question. “And my momma told me never to discuss politics or religion in social settings….but….my candidate is currently hanging on my office wall.”

"Rangers, huh?" Glossing over the not insignificant tidbit that he did, in fact, vote for your mother, you find yourself thoroughly enjoying getting to know this friend of your friend. It's usually not this easy to click with a new acquaintance, although you've become an expert at seeming interested just to be polite. That doesn't seem to be necessary at all with this man. "When we get our Phillies/Rangers series this year we'll have to come up with a bet of some kind."

“It’s gonna be a losing bet on your end.” Marcus predicts. “We’ve got Darío Álvarez and then Elvis Andrus is going to continue stealing bases.”

"Oh thank god," Sydney huffs, flipping ricotta pancakes on her griddle top and grinning as she throws you a wink. "She's finally got someone else to drag to baseball games. I'm free!"

"My alleged best friend," you smirk and decide to tease her back. "And her husband are both hockey people. So I'm generally either stuck watching the game on my own or dragging Syd along with promises of beer and ballpark dogs."

“Nationals aren’t my favorite team. Since they are National League.” Marcus smirks. “But I have season tickets since it’s too expensive to fly back to Texas for every game.”

It would be bragging to admit that you've been asked to throw the first ball out at the Nationals opening game this season as the most vocally baseball-loving member of the new First Family, so you just smile. You know it can feel like a big sacrifice to leave something about home behind. "Maybe I'll see you there," you offer instead. "The Nationals aren't my team either, but the game are pretty fun."

“Oh they always are.” He admits wholeheartedly. “Plus the Navy Yard is close so it’s always interesting.”

"Heeeeere we go." Onto the counter in front of you, Sydney heaps four plates of food – making each of you identical breakfasts. "The fruit compote for the pancakes right now is cranberry lemon. And I threw a little extra chili into the sauce for the eggs." She grins. "Some folks who stay at the inn say it's too spicy but it's how we like it," she tells Marcus.

Marcus chuckles and Juan snorts, hooking his fingers towards the agent. “This man ate his way through a five alarm chili contest and didn’t even touch his beer.” He boasts to the two of you. “If it’s not spicy, I don’t want it.” Marcus confirms with a grin. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”

"Then next time you're getting Calabrian chili instead of just the wimpy flakes." Sydney promises with glee. "That's how our girl likes it, but that's too much even for me most of the time. I have to be in the mood for it."

“You like spicy?” He asks, smirking towards you. “How do you feel about the Indian food around here?”

"There's a place in DuPont Circle that is probably the best Indian food I've ever had in my entire life." Even as you're getting ready to dig into your best friend's comfort Italian fare, your mouth starts watering thinking of curries and dal. "The kind of place where they don't make it really spicy until you've been there a couple of times and they know you can handle it. I swear I've eaten there more than I've cooked my own food since moving out here."

“Rasika’s?” Marcus groans, nodding. “I love that place. They make the best curry I’ve ever eaten in my life. I’m sweating, but I never tell them to bring me the yogurt sauce.”

"If you don't sweat while you're eating there, you're doing it wrong." It's a slight point of contention with Sam, who generally considers mustard to be too spicy most of the time, but you ignore the side eye you're getting from Sydney and dig in to your brunch. Having come in early today, this is halfway through your shift and you're going to be excited to head upstairs to your little attic caretaker's apartment when the time comes this afternoon. "Mmmmm," you groan happily and do a little wiggle in your seat unconsciously. "Syd, I swear. If you hadn't already married Juan, I'd marry you for your brunch."

Marcus takes that as the best kind of advertisement and cuts into his own meal to fork up a bite of the eggs. “Christ.” He groans as soon as the flavors hit his mouth. “That’s amazing.”

"I told you," Juan boasts, sitting up in his seat a little taller with pride for his soulmate. "She's amazing."

“You weren’t kidding.” Marcus huffs, taking another bite. “If this got out, you could run on brunch alone.”

"We're considering offering an incentive package for events." Starting to clean up, Syd watches the two of you eat while she wraps the kitchen up from brunch to get everything prepared for dinner service. "Wedding brunches are coming back in fashion, but a lot of people are wanting to do morning after brunches for their families before everyone goes their separate ways."

“I can see that.” Marcus nods. “Lara and I had a lunch thing before we all said goodbye, but that was casual.”

"Your wife?" You guess, struggling to remember if Juan had mentioned that his friend was married. He's not wearing a ring, but some men don't — a habit that generally rubs you the wrong way because those men are always the ones who basically want their wives to walk around wearing a giant 'I'm married' sign but will never show any outward signs of commitment themselves.

Marcus gives a small shrug and smiles self-consciously. “Ex-wife.” He admits, knowing that soon enough the pitying looks will start. “We divorced a while ago.”

Sydney clicks her tongue, having remembered that fact, and says nothing more. You, though? For some reason you can't help yourself. Something about Marcus Pike compels you to offer comfort in whatever way you can. "If you ever find another Mrs. Pike, you let us know. We've got you covered."

Marcus chuckles. “So far, that search has been in vain.” He admits. “Apparently it’s not in the cards for me.”

"She's out there." Juan offers with confidence. "If I remember correctly, you've even got a couple of tattoos to prove it."

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I do.” He snorts. “If I ever find her, I want to know why there is a hummingbird tramp stamp on my lower back.” He laughs. “I get why, but why???? Why a hummingbird?”

A glare of questioning moves soundlessly between you and your best friend — the perpetually meddling woman who sat next to you when you were eighteen and challenged you to answer trivia questions while you had your own hummingbird tramp stamp inked onto your skin in celebration of your high school graduation. "Oh yeah?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at you while you furious try to communicate with nothing more than wide eyes that you do not want her to ask what she's about to ask. "What kind of hummingbird? How trashy are we talking?"

“It’s not exactly trashy.” Marcus defends. “It’s actually a pretty blue and green.“

"Interesting." Sydney hums, practically giggling with glee as she cleans up the kitchen and you bury your face in your meal like it will help you escape the entire conversation. "Maybe hummingbirds are her favourite bird?"

I'm going to kill you in your sleep says the glare you send your best friend's way.

“Totally trashed my punk rock image.” He laughs. “Although I didn’t think of that at the time. Thinking I’m this hardcore next Kurt Cobain rocker and I’ve got a hummingbird tattoo on my lower back.” He snorts, shrugging slightly. “But it’s always been a question I’ve wanted to ask. What made her choose that? What’s special about it to her?”

"Hummingbirds symbolize love and devotion," you murmur next to him, not quite looking up and wondering if the world is really turning on its ear right now or if it's just that you've been thrown off kilter by the possibilities. It's not like you're the only girl in the world with a hummingbird tattoo, after all. Far from it. "And they're supposed to be good luck."

“I like that.” Marcus hums softly. “It’s wistful, hopeful.” There could be a thousand different reasons why his soulmate chose that symbol to etch on her body and in turn, his, but he would rather it be a loving sign. You aren’t looking at him, and miss the small smile he throws you. “Poetic.”

"So she's gotta be out there somewhere." Sydney needles the point a little bit, sounding breezy as hell but just about ready to pounce on any clues Marcus offers up. "Maybe a hopeless romantic with a stubborn streak and an encyclopedic knowledge of Lost Generation authors and impressionist painters?" She shrugs like she's just pulled the example out of thin air. "Who knows?"

Throwing Juan a look, Marcus smirks. “Sounds like your husband has been talking about favorite kind of woman.” He jokes, although he’s pretty sure that he would love it if his soulmate turned out to be just that. “I just want to have someone that wants to be build a lift together. A partner.” He shrugs. “Most people think that it’s crazy, but I think that your significant other should be your best friend and your lover.”

"Absolutely crazy." With as clearly sarcastic a tone as she can possibly muster, Sydney practically deadpans in Marcus's direction. "So weird. How dare you want to spend your life with someone you loves you as much as you love them?" Every single thing she's described has been about you, and while neither of the guys are picking up on that for even a single second, the fact that you have your head down over your plate means you're reading her loud and clear. "I bet your dream girl will even have a thing for your old rockstar days," she goes on, as if she's stringing out a hypothetical and not explicitly describing your opinion that musicians are sexy as hell. "Don't tell me. You were a bassist, right?"

“And vocals.” He admits, shaking his head ruefully. “It’s alright if she doesn’t like that. God, it’s been years since I’ve picked up my bass.” He realizes. “I should do that. Between the bass or the motorcycle, I just spent more time on the bike.”

Bass. Vocals. And motorcycle? You practically groan out loud but barely manage to swallow the sound and instead hop up from your seat immediately to hopefully combine the noise you just made with all manner of other commotion. "Just grabbing another drink," you explain, when all three of their heads turn toward you at once. "You, uh...you should do what makes you happy, Marcus. If that's not overstepping things for me to say. We just met today. But I've always heard that the best things in life tend to fall into your lap when you're not looking for them. So maybe just...enjoy yourself? And who knows what can happen."

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” Marcus admits. “My therapist agrees with you. That we need to enjoy ourselves and not just search.”

"Our therapists agree with each other, then," you admit with a chuckle. "I started seeing someone when Mom decided to run for president. I figured it would be good to have someone to check in with and make sure I was handling my stressors in a healthy way." The conversations you had had with them about whether or not to factor your soulmate into future plans when you had never met them were slightly less straightforward.

“That’s always a good thing.” He nods quickly. “I’ve never been one to think that therapists are a waste of time.” He shrugs. “My mom was a therapist all my childhood.”

"It's an incredibly important profession. And an incredibly important resource to have." Seeing as Marcus's mug was empty as well, you bring back two glasses of water to the counter and sit down again, hoping that Sydney won't keep pushing. Or at least that she won't reveal things if she does. "My little sister is a psychology major. She's thinking about medical school next, and talking about different paths she might taken with her studies. Therapist being one of them."

“It’s a good profession.” Marcus admits easily. “Just- let her know, most therapists have their own therapists they see. It’s draining to take on everyone’s secrets and burdens, trying to do the best you can to give them the tools to help themselves. So tell her that there’s no shame in that.”

"I will." It isn't worth negating the kindness of Marcus's thoughts and advice by telling him that all three of the First Kids started therapy at the start of the campaign. It's the care he has for other people — people he has never met and may never meet ever in his life, that touches you so very deeply. "Thank you, Marcus. That's very kind of you."

He nods and picks up the glass of water, needing to wash down the remnants of the eggs before starting on the pancakes. “So, Juan, how did you and your lovely wife discover you were soulmates?” He asks curiously.

"Uhm..." Juan chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck and looking to Sydney for her permission to tell the story.

"Go ahead," she laughs. "I've go to start dinner prep. Tell him as much as you want."

"It's not exactly PG," he admits, still laughing softly to himself. "The polite version is that we compared tattoos."

Marcus isn’t the head of his department because he’s dimwitted. “One night stand?” He asks, lifting his brows in surprise. It wasn’t like he had never had them himself, but both men had preferred to be in relationships rather than sleep around. Not that he’s judging.

“I was willing to take whatever that goddess was willing to give me,” Juan admits without shame. “One night would have been a memory to cherish. But the universe said it should be a lifetime, instead.”

“I’m happy for you.” Marcus promises with a slap on the back for his old friend. “You deserve it. Glad you found her.”

“You say that now.” His friend smiles happily though, beaming at the commendation. “But now it’s going to be my mission to find you that girl with the hummingbird tattoo.”

Marcus smiles, a little sadly, but he just shrugs. “I’ll find her when I’m supposed to.” He reasons. “Knowing my luck, she’s happily married.”

“Not as happily as she would be with you.” He’s confident in that, and Juan looks to you to bolster his encouragements. “How could anybody not be ecstatic to have a guy this good, right?”

It feels rude. Like a trick from the universe that you do not like one bit. Like the powers that be are rubbing your nose in your defiance of their plans. “They’d have to be blind.” You offer, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Sam is a good guy. He’s been a good boyfriend and has made you happy. Why are you suddenly thinking about someone else after an hour of knowing them? That’s utterly ridiculous. “You…never really know how the universe is going to have things work out.”

She’s just being polite. Marcus realizes that when he sees your smile, his stomach churning unhappily. It doesn’t matter, you’re seeing someone. A woman in a relationship has always been off limits to him. He doesn’t like, nor respect cheaters and yet he’s upset that you don’t seem that attracted to him. Or, you’re reluctantly attracted to him. He stares down at his pancakes and sighs. “All that matters to me if that my soulmate is happy.” He decides.

Juan and Marcus talk about this and that for the next few minutes, but you quickly finish your pancakes and excuse yourself. It was very nice to meet Marcus, and you tell him so, but you’re a little rattled by the possibility that was just laid out in front of you and you need a few deep breaths of fresh air before your break is over and you have to go back to solving guest’s dilemmas.

Juan doesn’t miss the way Marcus’s eyes follow you out of the room and he smirks. “Thinkin’ about it?” He asks, knowing you are the other man’s type.

“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “I mean, I would if she were single, but she’s not.” Deciding to change the subject, he leans in. “Did they heighten security here, or just the one agent?”

“Updated cameras and increased security personnel. We turned the spare office into a surveillance room but her Secret Service detail doesn’t butt in on anything they don’t need to.” Juan shrugs, knowing that things always change over time. “So far.”

That’s good and Marcus nods. “Sounds like you might have had some input.” He knows that Juan is very analytical, he would know what the weakness were in a place like this.

Juan snorts, taking a sip of his drink and shrugging vaguely. "My wife's childhood best friend is the First Daughter of the United States. If I can help her be safe, I'm going to."

“I can certainly understand that.” Marcus admits.

"It's a good system." Juan acknowledges. "She always has a detail agent nearby and the place needs the security because we've gotten a hell of a lot busier since the campaign last year."

“I’m sure.” Marcus snorts. “Everyone wants to claim they have some insider pull.” He says, a little cynical, but he looks around. “And I’m sure a lot of it is the fact that this place is a little gem.”

"272-year-old farmhouse with restored gardens and a barn and a gazebo from 1823. The place has had so many owners and been used for so many things." It's clear that Juan has nothing but affection for the place, and that he really has leaned into a fully civilian life. "I'm glad you came out to say hi," he tells Marcus honestly. "Hopefully we'll see more of you around here."

“With food like this?” Marcus groans, throwing his buddy a grin. “Those are the best damn pancakes that I’ve eaten in forever.”

"And considering you're a certified pancake expert, that says something." Juan chuckles. When Marcus hadn't shown up for a few weeks he was afraid that maybe he had said something wrong or that his old friend had moved on from the comradery they used to have, Apparently, neither was the case.

“Still love pancakes. It’s finding the time to eat them, that’s the problem.” He snorts. “It’s getting better now that I run the department, but after I ran into you? I was flying out two days later.”

"Sounds like you earned a day to relax." Sounds like he earned a lot more than just one day, but Juan knows how the Bureau works. A single day can sometimes be a miracle to come by. "There's books and board games in the library if you want to stay and spend some time relaxing."

“What do you have going on?��� Marcus asks, tilting his head curiously.

“It’s…board game night.” As silly and domestic as it sounds, it’s a nice tradition that they’ve managed to keep going among friends. “Every month we have a group of friends over and we do a potluck for dinner. Just to unwind and be social. Just catch up, eat some good food, and play board games. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“I don’t want to impose.” Marcus shakes his head, wondering if he’s so desperate that it sounds like great evening or if it just really was.

“It’s not imposing,” Juan assured him. “We bring new friends all the time. There’s about six of us usually, so it fluctuates depending on how many other people we bring or if someone can’t make it.”

“Well, is there a store or something?” He asks. “I can pick up some wine or something to contribute.”

“Old Town has some good liquor stores.” The historic district of Alexandria has become increasingly popular in the last several years, and the revitalization of the neighborhood has helped the inn as well.

“Anything else you could possibly want?” Marcus asks seriously. He’s willing to go get anything that could be thought of, the prospect of not spending the night alone incredibly cheering.

“Get whatever you want,” Juan encourages. “Every once in a while someone will show up with something they’ve never tried just try to it together. So really — anything you want.”

“Okay.” Marcus grins, excited about this and reaches out to slap Juan on the back. “Do you still ride bikes or have you given that up?”

"Hell no." Juan tuts, glad to see the smile back on Marcus's face. "My Indian is back at our house. We take rides when we've got time off together."

“That’s good. Although the rides have taken a pause since the pregnancy, right?” Marcus asks. “I can’t imagine a doctor signing off on a pregnant woman on the back of a bike.”

“Yeah…these days we take rides in the station wagon.” He chuckles at that, and Juan knows how ridiculously domestic it sounds but he really doesn’t care. He’s in love with his life in a very unexpected way, and that’s okay. “It’ll be nice to have someone to ride with again.”

“I can imagine.” Marcus is missing that, but on the bright side, he rides when and where he wants. “Do you guys know what you’re having yet?” He asks.

“Not yet.” Juan is excited, though, as evidenced by the way he lights up when asked about it. “It’s still too early to find out. Obviously we don’t care, as long as they’re healthy and happy.”

“Congrats, man, you’re living the dream, you know that?” As envious as he can admit to being, he’s also incredibly happy for Juan. “You deserve it. Especially after, you know…”

“Life is totally different now.” Leaving the Bureau is what was best for Juan. He knows that now, even if it was a painful decision to make back then. “I’m not going to ever downplay the things in my past, but the future is looking pretty fucking good, man.”

Completely understanding the fact that Juan doesn’t want to talk, he nods. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

“I appreciate that, man.” Juan grins and pats Marcus on the shoulder. “Enjoy some time in town and come on back here around seven tonight. Syd isn’t working the dinner rush tonight so we’ll all be able to relax.”

“That sounds good.” The comfortable jeans and a sweater will still look sharp enough for game night and he sends his friend a smile before he walks out of the kitchen.

Things have calmed down in the lobby when you return to the front desk to pick up a few papers and check in on your concierge before retreating into your office for the rest of your shift. The inn may have calmed down but you're still spinning wildly on the idea that your soulmate might have walked through the door of the inn this morning with absolutely no fanfare and a nervous smile on his incredibly handsome face.

Nope. Stop it. Sam is coming for board game night tonight and you really fucking like him. Don't give up your whole stance on freedom of happiness just because some absolutely dishy FBI agent has your tattoo.

"Everything going okay, Malachi?" You will be professional, and not a blithering mass of nervous energy. Even if it takes all the energy you have to force it.

“Everything’s fantastic, we had another couple call to book a room for next weekend. So we officially will have no vacancies.” He reports proudly, like he had recruited the couple himself.

"Good. That's actually excellent. That means we have no vacancies at any point for two week on either side of Valentine's Day unless someone cancels." It's always possible. After all, break up happen around that particular holiday. But with the way they've been booking rooms lately, they should be able to fill a hole more easily than not. "I'm going to go to my office and work on the schedule. If you need me, just call."

“Of course.” Malachi cranes his neck as that handsome guy walks out to a beautiful motorcycle. “But before you go.” He hums. “Who is that?”

You can't help but chuckle, your concierge's obvious interest making you recognize the ridiculousness of the whole situation all over again. "That's Juan's friend," you tell him, gathering up your paperwork. "He'll be around more, and he's allowed into the kitchen. So you know he's special."

“And does Juan’s friend have a name?” He asks, smirking slightly.

"Special Agent Marcus Pike." You smirk right back at him, giving Marcus's title along with his name. By now Agent Bailey has probably done an entire workup on the agent. Why wouldn't she?

“Special Agent.” Because it’s the two of you and there’s no guest around, Malachi watches out the window with unabashed interest. “He can mount me like he mounts that bike any time.”

"Mal!" There's no reason for you to be taken aback by that comment considering how well you know Malachi Debose, but you still find yourself stifling a laugh with wide eyes. You tell yourself to joke, ignoring the twist in your chest at the idea of Marcus with anyone else. It's not up to you. He's his own person. And he might not even be your soulmate to begin with! "I'm pretty sure he's straight, honey, but you never know. It would not be the first guy you've swept out of the closet who didn't even realize they were in there in the first place."

He sighs dramatically, even though he’s smirking proudly. “You’re right.” He admits. “We’ll see how mister Special Agent Marcus Pike acts and then I’ll decide.”

"Behave yourself." Is the playful warning you give him before turning and nodding to Agent Bailey. "Time to sit in the office while I swear at my computer," you tell her. As the Secret Service agent who is with you most of the time, Kendra Bailey has learned your past, your friends, your job, and your habits like a book. She appreciates that you're not throwing yourself into politics because it means her days are a little calmer than they could be, but the coming and going of all sorts of people through the inn on a daily basis presents its own challenges.

She nods, already curious about the FBI agent that she’s encountered here. It’s not unusual to run background checks on people who continuously hang around the inn, and it sounds like he will become a fixture for the foreseeable future. “Of course, Hummingbird.”

You groan softly, realizing that that is going to get said around Marcus Pike at some point or other, and just try to shake it off for now. "You can call me by my name around here, you know." She won't. You've had this conversation more than once, but sometimes you think you'll never get used to being ma'am or Hummingbird at all times to your Secret Service detail.

“Yes ma’am.” She nods, both of you aware that she’s not going to break protocol like that. Instead, she’s turning to the chair that has been placed outside your office, tucked into a discreet corner so it’s not completely obvious that you are being guarded. Giving you the illusion of privacy.

"Someday I'm going to get you to at least come into the office." There are rules. A hell of a lot of them, in fact, and you know that they exist for a reason. But Agent Bailey is allowed to be in your office with you, and you hope it won't take your mother's entire first term in office for her to get comfortable enough with you to do that.

“I understand that, but if I’m in your office, you won’t concentrate.” She reminds you with a small, unseen smile. The first time you had insisted, you hadn’t gotten anything done.

"Too social for my own good, I guess." With a small smile exchanged between the two of you, you nod in agreement before heading down the hall to your office. She's right, and you both know it.

Outside, a snazzy sports car pulls up. Not too flashy, because a junior congressman from Maryland can’t be seen throwing money away frivolously, but sporty enough to make him grin as he changes gears. The door pops open, sunglasses tossed on the dash and Sam hustles out of his car, eager to see you.

"Hey Sam." Malachi looks up from the desk when the door opens and offers up a smile. Professional, but friendly. So far, Congressman Chase hasn't done anything to warrant the cold shoulder. "Is she expecting you?"

“Not until later, but I was hoping to surprise her.” He admits, sending the concierge a wink. “She in her office?”

"Just went in to work on the schedule." Malachi reports, but his smile morphs from professional to earnest in half a second. "The new software is giving her a headache and a half. I bet coming in with a cup of coffee with also be a welcome surprise."

“You are a good man, Malachi.” Sam slaps the antique reception stand and grins. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He lifts his brows and points at him as he changes directions to the kitchen to beg a cup of coffee from Sydney.

A knock on the kitchen door is odd but not unheard of, and Sydney glances back over her shoulder when the swinging door pushes open to admit the six-foot Congressman she now affectionately calls, "Sam Sam! As happy as I am to see you, your lady friend is not in the kitchen."

“I know.” Sam tosses the chef an easy grin. “A little birdie told me that she might appreciate a cup of coffee, so I’m here to be her runner.”

Sydney smirks, never ceasing in her work but nodding to the coffee pot in the corner of the kitchen. “Go right ahead. I’m sure she’ll be grateful.”

“Thank you.” He immediately beelines for the coffee maker, intent on also making himself a cup. Though he would prefer a cocktail. “It smells great in here, like always.” He tosses over his shoulder.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She hums happily in return. “I made a lasagna for game night. Are you staying?”

“Unless an emergency session is call.” Sam snorts. “And you know half those crusty old bastards don’t want to work.” He adds some creamer and sweetener to his, doctors yours and turns back. “Is this the lasagna with the pancetta?” He asks, giving her a pleading look.

“It is, and I did a little something different with the ricotta layer this time, so you’ll have to tell me what you think.” One hand shoos him playfully away, but she does laugh. “I’ll feed you later. Go see your lady.”

“Thank you!” He laughs as well, zipping out the door to head in to see you. Hopefully you aren’t working on anything too important that you can’t steal away some time for him.

Two short knocks on your door could be anyone, but you save your progress in working on next week’s schedule and call for them to come in. It’s probably Malachi with a guest accommodation question, which is no problem. You can hit pause on scheduling the housekeeping staff around their various class schedules to answer just about anything.

After getting the okay to enter, Sam juggles the cups and pokes his head in the door. “Can you spare a few minutes, beautiful?” He asks.

The grin that spreads on your face is surprise and relief, and you hop up from your dream to open the door fully. “If that’s coffee in your hands, I can spare more than just a few.”

“Of course it is, fixed just the way you like it.” While he doesn’t drink it nearly as sweet as you do, he also doesn’t make fun of you for it.

“To what do I owe the early visit?” The door clicks shut behind him and you sit back in your chair with a happy sigh.

“We let out early.” Sam explains. “Figured we could spend some time together .”

“I’m always glad to see you.” It’s true. It genuinely is. Which is why you hate the nagging guilt of the fact that you had just been telling yourself to stop speculating about your possible soulmate and focus on work.

“That’s a good thing.” Despite the idea that dating the First Daughter was good for his career, Sam genuinely cares for you. It might not be the passionate love he had imagined years ago, but he’s mature enough to understand that a solid connection was a good thing.

“So your meeting went alright?” The committee that he’s on had an unofficial lunch meeting today, which must have gone well if he’s already here saying hello. “I was afraid they’d have you all day and you’d miss out in lasagna and the new Clue game that Sydney’s sister picked up.”

“No.” Sam snorts. “They wanted it done as quickly as possible.” He tells you. “I’ve got to admit that I’ve never seen people that hate to work more than politicians.”

“Well that’s hardly encouraging,” you snort, and shake your head before taking a sip of hot coffee. “I guess you’ll just have to whip them into shape, Congressman. No two ways about it.”

“I’m trying.” He laughs and shrugs. “Right now I equate it to herding cats.” He jokes, sitting down on the other side of your desk and watching you for a moment while you savor your coffee.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever called a member of the House of Representatives.” The two of you share a laugh, and you shift in your seat a little with an awkward expression before talking again. “I…got an email this morning. From Mom’s office. Informing me of my first few expected photo ops as First Daughter.” It’s a big part of the job, for you at least, to look the part and play the part and help the country to see your mother as not just the president, but a family-oriented professional as well. Being the first female President has its challenges and your mother is plowing into them head on. Which, honestly? You give her a lot of credit for. “They asked if I would be willing to release some social media photos from our Valentine’s date…” The fact that you hadn’t planned one yet is slightly beyond the point. Now you pretty much have to.

“Well, what kind of pictures would you like?” Sam asks easily, aware that you don’t relish the attention, but it’s part of the job. “We can do a dinner at home, appeal to the base of Americans.” He suggests.

“I don’t love the idea of someone recognizing an aspect of your house or neighborhood and you getting doxed for it,” you admit ruefully. It would have to be Sam’s house, since you don’t actually have one. You can’t exactly put out photos of your attic apartment and expect the White House press core not to make noises. “I was thinking we could put the spotlight on a minority-owned small business or go to some low-key arts event? If they’re going to ask me to be in the spotlight then I want to use it for good.”

“Do you want to decide?” He asks, aware that you can be quite choosy at times. He doesn’t really mind. “Or do you want me to come up with something?”

“It’s probably easier if I figure it out.” You admit. It’s not your favorite option, all things considered, but since it’s dumb for you to be even vaguely upset that your boyfriend didn’t announce he had secret plans already in the works — which your stupid romantic comedy loving brain had hoped for but knew was a longshot — it’s better to just be practical. “So the Secret Service can tell me if wherever I pick is insecure or something like that. Even though I can’t imagine that anybody is out to get me. That’s absurd.”

“You’d be surprised what humans are capable of.” Sam reminds you, having read some of the most horrific reports imaginable. He likes that you are practical, even if you are a bit naive.

“Not a super fun thing to hear from your boyfriend, but okay.” It’s nothing you can’t brush off, and you do so with a wave of your hand. “There is also a state dinner coming up in a few weeks that I definitely do not want to go to without you.”

“I’m available.” He promises. “I’ve got a couple of events in my district coming up. But I’ll mark that on my calendar.”

“Thank you.” Though you aren’t blind to the ways that attending these things helps him, you appreciate the company. You aren’t effortlessly charismatic like your brother or a star student with enigmatic insights like your sister. You’re the least comfortable in the public eye out of your whole family, and that is what it is. At some point in the night when he inevitably veers off to shake hands and schmooze politically, you’ll sit quietly at your table and smile politely while you wait for Sam to come back, and that’s okay. “I really really appreciate it.”

Sam huffs, sending you a small smirk. “A night where you are wearing a beautiful dress, we eat an elegant dinner, what’s not to love?” He leaves the part about making connections unspoken, both of you know how this game is worked. “And maybe you can come spend the night at my place after.”

"What an absolutely scandalous suggestion." One hand clutches your nonexistent pearls, pretending to be aghast, but you throw him a wink. Intimacy in your relationship unfortunately does have to be scheduled at a certain point...just on the basis that you have a Secret Service agent you can't simply ditch, and he has a personal assistant that might be even more invasive than the Secret Service. "I love it."

“Good.” Sam smirks back at you and sends you his own wink. “I’ve missed a cute little snore, and I need to get some cuddling in.”

"I do not snore." Despite pouting at him – and knowing that you do, in fact, snore – you end up grinning. "But we have been low on cuddle time lately, I agree."

“Yeah, I know my job is hectic and yours isn’t a walk in the park.” He acknowledges wholeheartedly. “But I want this to work. Maybe we just need to move in together.” He hadn’t meant to just blurt that out, but he’s been thinking about it.

“I—what?” You nearly spit out the sip of coffee you had just taken and sit up arrow straight in your chair, staring at him without the ability to stop yourself. “You—you want me to—to move in with you?” It’s never been discussed. Not really. At least not with a timeline, and that’s probably your fault. You’re so prone to jumping into relationships head first that you had told yourself you would move slow with Sam. That…seems to not be the case now.

“It doesn’t have to be now.” He promises. “Just something to consider. That’s all. We would get more time together.”

"I can honestly say I was not expecting that today." It's shaken you up a little, if you're honest, but you reach over your desk and squeeze his hand before leaning out of your chair to kiss him.

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” It’s not quite the reaction he was expecting, if he is honest with himself.

"No, not at all!" You're quick to reassure him, realizing that Sam's expression is a little more guarded than usual. You've disappointed him. That's not a feeling you like at all. Not even a little. "I'd say the fact that my boyfriend wants to spend more time with me is a very good thing." If it's such a good thing, why is your mouth dry and why are you all tense with nerves? "And I want that, too. You just surprised me, that's all."

“Of course we need to talk about it more in depth.” He relaxes slightly, happy that you are at least open to the idea.

"Is that...something you want to talk about soon?" There are ideas rolling over in your head with varying levels of comfort, but the fact is that you hadn't realized that Sam was already there. Sure you had said your I love yous already, but you really had been trying to go slower this time, and that pace had seemed to suit Sam just fine. And why is it suddenly now that your mind is stuck on the idea that he isn't your soulmate? Is it just because you met a man who could be? You had always told yourself it didn't matter before now...

“We are coming up on our one-year anniversary of dating.” He reminds you, wondering why all of a sudden you look like you’ve seen a ghost. He’s been patient, letting you move slowly since you were afraid of diving in too much too soon, but this is the natural next step. Otherwise, it will be random sleepovers whenever you can manage it for the rest of your lives and Sam doesn’t want that. “I figured we could discuss what our next steps were.” He smiles softly. “I want the next steps, whenever you’re ready.”

"You're right." He is right. The logic is there, and the sweetness, and you do genuinely like him. In fact, loving him came easily and naturally. It's just that today has you a little shaken up and you don't want to admit it to yourself. Any other day and you would have been ecstatically throwing yourself into his arms. "You're absolutely right. This is definitely next." Composing yourself into a smile and reminding yourself to goddamn relax, you pick up your now cold coffee and finish the cup. "Why don't we pick a night this week to cook dinner together and talk through what we want our future to look like?"

“That works.” He flashes you the boyish grin you claim to love and nods. “Little food. Little wine, little….cuddling while we talk. It’s exactly what we need. You’ve been peddle to the mettle lately, and so have I. It will be good to decompress and hash out our concerns.”

"Perfect." And you will, you tell yourself sternly, get your shit together by then.

“But tonight…” he winks at you. “I’m going to whoop your ass at Clue.”

Because it's your turn to host, your small apartment has been cleaned top to bottom in preparation for the night. Sydney took care of making dinner, you have dessert in the refrigerator, and you have it on the authority of the group chat that garlic bread and salad are both coming as well. Juan said he and Marcus were supplying drinks, so everything is set up with plenty of time for everyone to arrive.

Agent Bailey is sitting on the couch waiting for her evening relief so she can go home to her own family and Sam is setting a stack of mismatched plates on the dining room table when Juan, Marcus, Sydney, and her sister Anna Leigh all show up very promptly on the turn of the hour.

Marcus is a little nervous aware that he has a tenuous tie to the game night, but he is quickly at ease when everyone starts greeting people like old friends. He hadn’t quite known what to get, so he had bought several bottle of whiskey and wine, figuring someone would appreciate it. The bottle of ‘76 Statesman Reserve a personal favorite of his and the little store he had stopped at had one last bottle.

"Hey, we didn't scare Marcus off!" Maybe you're a little happy to see him, but you excuse that as being glad that Juan has his friend back and ardently ignore the way your chest clenches when he walks into your little apartment.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers instantly, holding back from flirting like he wants to. You are seeing someone. “But I brought gifts.” He holds up the bottle, the others in his bag.

“Statesman.” You practically groan with delight at the sight of the bottle. “When we were campaigning in Kentucky, my little brother and I toured their distillery, I love this stuff.” Fighting the instinct to offer him a hug — and it really is an instinct — you grin and wander toward the kitchen to complete introductions. “You already know Syd and Juan, of course. The beautiful agent of chaos currently throwing garlic bread in the oven is Syd’s sister Anna Leigh, and the intimidating lady on the sofa with the New York Times crossword in her lap is Agent Bailey. I don’t know if you two officially met earlier or not. Looking around, Sam is not in sight, but you chew your lip for a second and smile. “My other half seems to have disappeared, but I’m sure he’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay.” He shouldn’t be disappointed that your boyfriend is here. That’s what he keeps telling himself. “Congressman from Maryland, right?” Okay, he might have read up on you.

“Right.” There’s a note of something off in Marcus’s voice but you can’t figure out what, so you just smile. “I promise we don’t use official titles over board games.”

“Good.” He cracks a lighthearted grin. “I hate when I’m made in charge of the jail in Monopoly.” He jokes. He hands you the bottle and looks around the little apartment. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I think we’re just waiting for Issy and then everyone will be here. So for now if you want to maybe pour drinks while we all get settled?” This is always an informal setting and you want everyone to feel relaxed as much as possible. “Let me give you the grand tour first?” What a stupid thing to say in your little, tiny space. But now you’ve said it, so you just have to pretend it was something charming to say instead of awkward.

“That sounds good.” Marcus quickly agrees, although it’s obvious that there’s not much to the small space. “The private sanctum.”

“Eat it kitchen.” Is the space you’re standing in, with a too-big dining room table that is also your prep counter because there is basically no counter space — just enough to put a few grocery bags on and nothing more. “I have an unholy love of dinner parties, hence the big table. Over here is the living room. Mandatory bar cart with the tv, and as many throw pillows as the couch can hold.” Agent Bailey currently has her arm resting on the head of a pillow shaped like a horse that you brought back from a campaign trip out West. “Bathroom is down the hall, just here.” The door is closed, so that must be where Sam is. “And just turn the corner and you’re in the bedroom-slash-library.” You have to call it that — you really have to, because the entire room is covered in wall to wall bookcases that are pretty much entirely full. The only exceptions are where your sleigh bed and writing desk sit on opposite ends of the tight room. “It’s more library than anything else.”

“Obviously like to read.” He nods. “What genre? Or is it too embarrassing to mention in company?”

“I’m not embarrassed at all to read romance novels.” A whole section of the shelf by your bed is dedicated to them, in fact. Healthy sexuality and healthy explorations of that sexuality are vital, but you won’t get that far into the topic. “I have a lot of various things here, but the majority are probably mystery, thrillers, and classics from all over the world.” The shelf you’re standing by has your collection of writing by both F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and you smile. “Of course, some of the classics are romances. That’s to be expected.”

“They are. I find that if you limit yourself in what you read, you are missing out.” He looks over your shelf with interest. “It looks like a wonderful collection.”

“Thank you. A compliment for my books is the highest compliment possible.” There’s a warm smile on your lips when the bathroom door pulls open a few feet away and you feel like you’ve been caught although there isn’t a single thing wrong about showing a new friend around your apartment. There’s no reason to jump out of your skin, but here you are with burning cheeks feeling embarrassed.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Sam doesn’t frown, but he wonders who this man is and why he is in your bedroom.

"Hey." Your smile does widen of its own accord, and you motion between the men in a sort of vaguely formal way that is definitely odd for you. "Sam, this is Marcus. One of Juan's old friends. He came by the inn earlier today and we thought it would be nice to introduce him to the group." It's awful, and very unnecessary, how heavy your tongue feels when you go to make the introduction the opposite way. "Marcus, this is Sam. My boyfriend."

It’s a little awkward, Marcus can admit that but he extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam.” He offers, smiling in a friendly, first meeting kind of way. “My connection to the group is through Juan.” He explains. “We were at the academy together.”

"Ah, a government man." That seems to win Sam's approval, though his handshake might be just a hair tighter than it would otherwise be based on the tension in the air. "Well, welc—"

"Babe!" Sydney's voice comes loud and clear from the other room as the door opens and the sound of chaotic friends can be heard. "Issy's here! Let's gooo!"

The introductions are interrupted and it’s probably not a bad thing. Marcus lets go of Sam’s hand and immediately makes for the door. “Guess that’s our queue.”

“Coming!” You call back, eager to be standing anywhere but your doorway between these two men. “Issy is a friend from college.” That’s the easy explanation you give Marcus as Sam steers you back to the kitchen with his hand on your back. “Syd, Anna Leigh, and Issy and I were suite mates at Mount Holyoke.”

Marcus nods, committing everyone to memory. “Nice to meet all of you. Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”

Getting everything set up doesn’t take much longer, and a buffet of cheesy garlic bread, a huge salad, Sydney’s pancetta lasagna, and the lemon tiramisu you made for dessert is all laid out on the counter. Everyone digs in and says a loud chorus of rowdy good nights when your Secret Service detail has its changing of the guard in the middle of it all. It’s a lot, and it’s chaos, but it’s so comforting because these are all people you love to spend time with. Even Marcus, as new as he is, fits right into the group effortlessly.

“Oh! Sydney.” Marcus dives back into the bag and pulls out a bottle of sparkling white grape juice and some sodas and grenadine. “I figured you might like my family’s version of Shirley Temple’s?” He offers. “So you can have a mocktail with the ladies?”

“Absolutely!” Syd’s eyes light up at the offer, and she brings her overstuffed plate over to the table to sit beside her husband. In her favorite baggy sweatshirt, no one could ever tell she’s pregnant, but one of her hands rests on the side of her belly anyway. “That sounds fantastic.”

“So my grandmother used to make these for all the kids, so we could feel special too.” Marcus explains as he grabs a wine glass and starts to mix together the non-alcoholic drink. “It had to be sparkling grape juice because of the bottle shape.” He chuckles now, but back then? He had felt grown up. “When she died, we served these at her wake.”

“That’s so sweet.” Sydney awes softly as Marcus carefully pours out the drink. “These are Birdie’s favorite, actually,” she points her thumb back at you while she chats at him. “We usually spike them with rum, of course. To be a Shirley Temple Black. I can’t remember the last time I just had a regular old Shirley Temple.”

“A dirty Shirley?” Marcus gasps in faux horror. “The best way to spike that is with Statesman.”

“On it!” You hop up from the table immediately to grab a glass and line up next to Sydney at the counter. “I’ve heard of people doing them with rum and vodka, but never with whiskey. I have to know.”

He chuckles and nods. “You won’t regret it. The grape juice plays off the smoky, oaky flavors very nicely.” He tells you. “It’s almost better than a robust bouquet on a red.”

“I can’t claim to know anything about wine, but I’m trying to learn.” Sam prefers wine, and you’ve been trying to not feel foolish when people discuss wine pairings at official dinners. It’s been a fairly deep learning curve. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

“More of a whiskey girl?” Marcus asks, filing away the information even though it’s not like he’s going to use it. One of those odd little quirks of his time in the Bureau, he tries to read people.

“Always have been.” As evidenced by the Whiskey Makes Me Frisky sweater still stuff in your closet from college, which won’t see the light of day again until your mother is out of office. “You too?” Your eyes widen immediately and you stumble over correcting yourself. “Guy, I mean? Whiskey guy?”

Marcus laughs and gives you a guilty grin. “I learned to enjoy wine. My ex was a wino to the point where we honeymooned in Napa Valley.” He snorts. “But my first love was a Jack and Coke.”

“The next time you’re sick, have a whiskey and ginger beer.” The advice comes as he hands you your glass but he looks skeptical. “I mean, it’s a good drink no matter what, but I swear it knocks out my colds faster than anything else.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Marcus hums and decides that he will make one for himself. “Tell me what you think.”

One sip has you groaning, and you bring the glass back to the table like you’ve found the Holy Grail. “Sammy, try this. I know you’re not usually big in whiskey, but this is fantastic.”

Sam wrinkles his nose, really uninterested in trying it, but he politely takes a sip. Pleasantly surprised, he makes a face. “Huh. That’s not as horrible as I imagined.”

“And that,” you look back at Marcus and laugh. “Is the highest compliment he’s ever given a whiskey drink.”

Marcus chuckles politely and motions towards the table. “There’s a nice Cabernet that he might like better.” He offers.

“That sounds perfect.” You move back to the counter to collect a wine glass, corkscrew, and the bottle to bring back, knowing that Sam will open it far more neatly than you can.

“So how has everybody been?” Prompting conversation once everyone is at the table gets the ball rolling nicely, and conversation starts as everyone starts to eat their dinner.

“Well, everyone knows that Sydney is expecting.” Juan boasts proudly, obviously loving the prospect of becoming a father. “But she started experiencing her first cravings.”

“Oooo, what are they?” Issy sits up in her chair immediately. “Please tell me it’s something non-gourmet. If this baby is a food snob I’m not going to have anything to tease you about.”

“Right now….” Juan grins and sends his wife an utterly besotted look. “Ranch flavored bugles.”

“Oh my god!” Both Issy and Anna Leigh practically scream with laughter immediately and your jaw hits the table with maniacal giggle.

“I know,” Syd moans in embarrassment. “I know! The baby likes ranch!”

“There must be a joke there somewhere.” Marcus laughs, enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere of the group and how they are all so easy with each other.

"Syd's current greatest fear is having a kid who doesn't care about food." You explain, picking up a forkful of lasagna. "If they turned out to not like food or hockey, she'll be doomed."

“I see.” He chuckles, although he himself had a less refined pallet when he was younger. Now he enjoys trying new things.

"They're exaggerating." Sydney promises, not wanting her husband's old friend to think she's that much of a snob. "Obviously no kid comes out loving caviar and oxtail."

“No, I can see why you would expect your child to give you cravings for something like this.” He praises, lifting a forkful of the lasagna. “I gave my mom cravings for salami and bologna. Which she couldn’t eat.”

"My mom had a lot of cheese cravings." Not expecting baby-oriented conversation was probably an oversight on your part, but it's fun and your best friend just absolutely glows whenever it's brought up. "With me it was gruyere, with my brother it was cheddar, and with my little sister it was asiago." The memory makes you grin, and you laugh a little, mostly to yourself. "She ate so many asiago bagels when she was pregnant with June."

“Ohhhhh I could see how that could be an easy craving.” Issy snorts. “I have cravings for those all the time and I’m not pregnant.”

"Right?" You're nodding in agreement instantly. "I'm honored that my pregnancy craving was gruyere. That's quality cheese."

“Maybe the craving will change to truffle cheddar fries.” Marcus suggests with a grin. “With ranch.”

“See, this is the kind of encouragement we should be thinking about. Positive thinking all the way.” Sydney grins, beaming across the table to her husband’s friend. Even if her hunch about the true nature of Marcus’s soulmate marks isn’t true, he’s still a good addition to the group. “What’s everybody else been up to.”

Everyone starts talking and Marcus leans back. Watching the dynamic of the group and it’s obvious that everyone is comfortable with each other. Talking over one another and laughing, poking fun in a gentle way. It seems as if Juan - and you - have a solid friends group.

The tempo of the night is unchanged from any other — there is as much laughter and fun as any game night you’ve had in years. The joy of having your friends nearby is never tempered, but tonight it is…just a little bit different. As for first time ever — with your boyfriend sitting next to you — you have to wonder if maybe your soulmate is actually sitting there at the table. And what will you do when it isn’t the man with his arm around you?

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle

[viixenvi]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is your bodyguard. Recently hired to be by your side everywhere you go. Your father, the president, deemed her the perfect bodyguard for you. Apparently, she's known for getting her job done and has never once had an incident. You make it your mission to be unbearable so she can back off and you can have fun. Until one day, you get too frustrated and Natasha can't help but be there for you.

Characters: Bodyguard!Natasha x First daughter!fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, nicknames (Милая=darling), cuddling, kissing, reader being overly sexual (in the beginning)

A/N: First daughter x bodyguard is something I've been wanting to write!! As always forgive me for any mistakes this was not proofread!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈

You sit on the counter of the kitchen. The white house has many places you love, but the kitchen might just be your favorite. You lick the spoon as you look at Natasha. She is standing across from you by the door. There are two other agents outside the room.

Natasha watches you intently, her eyes on your lips. She doesn't hide her hard stare. Natasha was professional, but you made it extra hard. You made it your mission to break her. You hoped if you did it then your father would lessen the security he had with you constantly.

"This is so good, you want some?" You pull the spoon out of your mouth and extend your hand toward Natasha. She just shakes her head and averts her gaze.

You sigh and jump off the counter, making sure she can see your boobs bounce when your feet hit the cold floor. Natasha follows behind you, keeping a slight distance.

All you can hear is her footsteps behind you as you walk toward your bedroom. There are two guards stationed across the hall either way. Natasha stops and takes her post in front of your bedroom. You giggle to yourself as You realize you have the perfect plan for her to crack.

When you get into your bedroom, you rush to the closet and pull off your shirt. Your pink bra and shorts are all you have on now. You reach to unclip your bra but purposefully pretend you can't reach it.

"Natasha!" You call out, she comes into the room with her hand at her belt where her gun is. When she sees you she immediately looks around to not look at your body.

"Yes, Y/n?" She questions. You turn and point to your bra clip.

"Can you help, I'm stuck," You whine slightly, hoping it's believable. Natasha walks to you slowly, you can feel her eyes burning into the skin on your back.

She had never seen you undressed before. Sure she's seen her fair share of your scandalous clothes, but never anything like this.

Her warm breath hits your neck as her fingers graze your back. You can feel a shiver go down your spine. She quickly unhooks your bra and turns around to give you privacy.

"Thanks, Natasha," You say in a whisper, you throw the bra to her feet and pull your shorts off slowly. You know she can see you through the mirror on her right.

Natasha takes a deep breath and tries to look away, but she can't stop from trying to see every inch of your skin. She was a professional, but you made it so damn hard for it to stay that way.

"If there is nothing else Y/n?" Natasha's voice is low. She goes to walk away but your hands on her arm make her stop.

"Help me pick out pajamas," you stop yourself from moving your hands any lower. You didn't really realize it, but at some point, this dumb mission stopped being pretend.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry if I'm out of line, but this is extremely unprofessional and I must say no to your request." Natasha's tone makes you step back.

"Oh. Sorry. You can go." You turn around and grab your robe off the couch. Natasha walks out of the room and shuts the door behind her. You stand in front of the mirror and look down at the bra sitting on the floor.

You didn't like the way you listened to her. Natasha had to go, it didn't matter what she felt. Right?

You sigh and walk to your bed, pulling the covers up and slipping under them. You open your laptop and put on a random video. You weren't even watching it, you just needed some background sound.

You pulled out your makeup, you had a person to do it but you had been practicing. Eyeliner was the one thing you couldn't get right. Your hands always shook and it was hard to get it right.

You held the liquid eyeliner pencil in your hand and got close to the mirror you used to do your eyebrows. The tip of the pencil was slightly dried out from all the times you used it. You press down and it messes up the line, making it chunky and messy. You wipe it off and keep trying.

After your sixth attempt, you finally get frustrated enough to throw the eyeliner pencil across the room. You let out a frustrated groan before you hear the door opening.

Natasha is standing at the door, looking down at the eyeliner and then back at you. You are crying a little from not being able to get it right and you know the eyeliner on your face is messy and streaking down your cheeks.

"Get out! Why do you never leave me the fuck alone?" You shout at Natasha. She doesn't deserve it but you need someone to get your frustrations out on.

Natasha raises her eyebrow and picks up the pencil off the floor. She shuts the door behind her and locks it, which you don't notice. You turn your head away from the direction she's coming from. You feel embarrassed she has to see you like this but that doesn't stop you from crying.

These tears weren't just from not being able to do eyeliner. You were frustrated because you realized that somewhere along the way, you caught feelings for Natasha. Everything you did may have just made her want to leave and that was not what you wanted anymore.

Natasha stands next to you, one hand reaching for your chin and moving your head to face her. You can't help but look up at her through your lashes. There is a smile on her face and she takes a seat on your vanity's stool.

You look at her face, she is stunningly beautiful and her red hair makes it better.

"What's wrong Милая?" she asks as she grabs a makeup wipe and holds your chin so you don't move. (darling)

"Nothing," you whisper while she wipes the eyeliner off. You feel her warm breaths again and you love it. Her hands are so soft and you hate the way you can't stop looking at her lips.

You had spent weeks trying to get her to quit and now you sat here wishing she'd never leave.

"It had to have been something, no?"

"I'm sorry." You look down, pulling away from her grasp on your chin. You can't let her touch you like this if you want her to stay.

"Sorry? about what?" Natasha looks at you, confused.

"I've been making your time here as bad as possible just so you could quit and Dad would let me have less security," you explain. Natasha smiles as if she finds it amusing.

"I know," is all she says as she gets up and starts to walk away. You get up and grab her wrist. She turns around and looks at you.

"What do you mean you knew? How di-" You are cut off by Natasha pushing her lips onto yours. You didn't move for a few seconds, afraid if you did then this would all be a dream.

Then her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer and you finally kiss her back. Her lips were as soft as you had thought and that same shiver went down your spine again.

Natasha pulls away first, letting you get air. You stand there frozen for a moment. Natasha had kissed you and you kissed her back.

"God, I've been waiting to do that since I got here," Natasha shrugs, chuckling a bit at your reaction. Her hands find their way to your waist again as she spins you and sits on the bed. She pulls you onto her lap and you feel your face start to go red.

"Natasha, what about your job?" You question, suddenly remembering that she works for your father.

"I don't care about my job, as long as I can finally have you." Natasha kisses your lips then your cheek and then your neck. You push her away playfully and she lays you on your bed. You close your laptop and Natasha climbs in rich next to you.

You yawn and look at the time on your alarm clock. It's way past the time you'd normally go to bed and Natasha knew that.

"Go to sleep Милая, I'll stay here till you do." She wraps her arms around you, the blanket over the both of you. You close your eyes and move your head closer to her chest. She smells so good and you inhale the scent as you relax in her arms.

"Goodnight Милая," Natasha whispers in your ear, her left hand running through your hair to make you sleep faster.

#bodyguard x first daughter au #fanfic #fanfiction #fem reader #marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #black widow #fluff #angst with a happy ending #angst #viixenvi

[duskiers]

Enchanted Beginnings

Percy / Aphrodite!Reader

Percy falls for the new Aphrodite daughter, leading to a series of amusing mishaps as he's too distracted by her presence. With a little help from Grover, Percy finally connects with her ☆

First request woop woop 🙌 💗

‿︵‿︵⊹‿︵‿︵⊹‿︵⊹‿︵🕊️︵‿⊹︵‿⊹︵‿︵‿⊹︵‿︵

The day you arrived at Camp Half-Blood, the sky was painted with strokes of pink and orange, heralding your entrance into a world where myths breathed and heroes walked. Percy Jackson, already a seasoned hero in the eyes of many, found himself at the archery range, his focus far from the quiver and bow. The camp was busy with the arrival of new demigods, but one in particular seemed to capture everyone’s attention before the gods themselves claimed her as their own. You, with your grace and an aura that seemed to whisper of Aphrodite's lineage, had barely crossed the camp's threshold before a glowing symbol of the goddess appeared above your head, sealing your divine heritage.

From across the field, Percy caught sight of you, and in that moment, the world seemed to slow. Everything about you fascinated him—the way you moved with effortless grace, your smile that seemed to light up the surroundings, and the kindness in your eyes that spoke of a gentle strength. He was so captivated that he hardly noticed Grover, his best friend, approaching.

"Who is that?" Percy's voice was a mix of wonder and curiosity, his gaze fixed on you as you laughed at something another camper said.

Grover followed his gaze, a knowing smile forming on his lips. "That's the new girl. Daughter of Aphrodite, and it seems like she's already making quite the impression!" he teased, elbowing Percy lightly.

In the days that followed, Percy found himself drawn to you, often going out of his way just to catch a glimpse of you during training or meals. However, his attempts at nonchalance led to a series of comical mishaps—walking into door frames, tripping over nothing at all, and yes, even walking straight into a window, all because he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

Grover, witnessing Percy's increasing clumsiness and the amused whispers of their fellow campers, decided it was time for intervention. He made up a plan to finally push Percy into taking action, rather than just daydreaming about you from afar.

One sunny afternoon, as you were returning from a strategy session with Annabeth, Grover saw his opportunity. With a quick, "Trust me" whispered to Percy, he gave him a not-so-gentle push, sending him stumbling directly into your path.

The collision was gentle, but unexpected, causing you to catch Percy in your arms in a moment of surprise. "Whoa! Are you okay?" you asked, concern lacing your voice as you helped him.

Percy, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, managed a sheepish smile. "Yeah, sorry, I just... lost my footing.." he stuttered, internally cursing his lack of grace.

"I'm Percy , " he introduced himself, though a part of him worried you might have already heard of his less-than-graceful moments around camp.

You laughed, a sound that to Percy felt like music. "I know who you are. Percy Jackson, the hero of Olympus. I'm [Name]." you said, extending your hand in greeting.

What followed was a conversation that flowed more naturally than Percy could have hoped for. He found himself opening up about his adventures, the burdens he carried, and the simple joys of camp life. In return, you shared your own journey to Camp Half-Blood, the fears, and excitement that came with discovering your heritage, and the hope of finding a place where you truly belonged.

Grover watched from a distance, a satisfied grin on his face as he saw the two of you laughing together, completely at ease. He had no doubt that this was the beginning of something special.

In the weeks that followed, Percy and you grew closer, spending hours talking by the lake, training together in the arena, and sharing quiet moments under the stars. Percy, who had once been so entranced by your beauty, found himself even more captivated by your spirit—your kindness, your bravery, and your unwavering support.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Percy found the courage to express his feelings. Sitting together by the lake, he took your hand in his, his heart racing.

"[Name], from the moment I saw you, I was... well, I was in awe. But it's not just about how you look. It's everything about you—your kindness, your strength, your courage. You've become someone very important to me" he admitted, "and I keep finding more reasons to be amazed by you every day." his voice tinged with sincerity and a hint of nervousness.

Your smile in response was all the assurance Percy needed. "Percy , you've been my rock since I arrived here. You've shown me what it means to be a true hero—not just through your deeds, but through your heart.." You respond with a soft smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand. "I’m glad Grover pushed you into me that day," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Percy laughed, a sound filled with happiness and relief. "Me too. Me too."

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you both sat there, talking about everything and nothing. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you <3

#꒰ ঌ 🪧 ໒ ꒱ #percy jackson comfort #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #pjo x reader #percy fluff #pjo #Aphrodite #Aphrodite reader #percy jackson #percy x Aphrodite #percy x Aphrodite!reader #daughter of aphrodite #lolol #AHHHHHHH #FORST REQUEST #first** #anyways enjoy <33 #(´ε｀ ) #꒰ ঌ 🪧 ໒ ꒱

[ghouljams]

just thinking about cowboy ghost and their big chunky baby with little leg rolls and he’s so gentle and pregnant goose and them going round the farm and ahhh i’m so feral for that man i’d have his babies any day

I think about the cowboy babies all the time. The biggest chunkiest babies. Ghost holds the 141 record for biggest babies. He's so careful with his babies, so worried he's going to hurt them on accident. They're so loved. He's constantly holding one of his little girls, sitting with them for tea parties, braiding their hair. He loves all the softness that comes with being a father, and it hurts a little. Ghost remembers his own childhood, the horrors of it, the hatred he still feels for his old man, and he vows that his little girls will never experience that. And it's so strange to him to think about his father, to feel his own joy with his kids- he can't conceptualize ever treating them with the malice his father did. How could anyone hurt a child?

He sits on the couch watching a footie game and Frog comes to cuddle under his big arm. Asks him to explain the rules, who's winning, who is that, why did the man in the stripes give him a card, is that player hurt? Just a mountain of questions. The same ones Simon remembers Tommy asking his dad, earning a beating for disturbing the game. But Simon doesn't feel that annoyance, that rage, God he's never wanted to hurt his daughter but especially not now. He's excited to share his favorite sport with her, explains the rules a million times just to watch her bounce excitedly when Manchester scores a goal. It's perfect, it's a shared joy.

It's the same when his middle girl asks him to teach her to shoot. When his youngest chatters away about her upcoming dance recital as he helps slick her hair back into a bun. He thinks about his mom when he sees you, when you laugh and scoop your daughter into your arms, when you kiss him quick before dinner. God, he doesn't know how that man could hate something like this, could hate the overabundance of love that Simon has. His family is his whole world, of course he's gentle with them. The world is already hard enough, why would he make it harder when he can be a source of comfort instead?

#ghoul speaks #x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #x oc #ghost mw2 #cod x oc #kid ocs #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #oc: goose #oc: mary “frog” price #the first time one of his daughters tells him “I hate you daddy” absolutely wrecks Ghost lmao #Goose laughs at him while he's moping #“She's 15 Simon she hates everyone”

[blackypanther9]

Very first Period – Teen!Daughter!Reader x Father!Alastor

WARNING!: Mention of blood, cursing, slight bit of angst, talking about how babies are made, talking about why the period is happening and what happens AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!! I MEAN IT ! DO NOT READ THIS IF THE BABY MAKING MAKES YOU UNCOMFY !! I tortured Alastor...

A/N: Lol Alastor had to educate himself and teach you what was happening and all the shtick. RIP Alastor Hazbin, guys. I think he died five times before he even explained anything to you and then another 10 times as he educated you. (Pic belongs to rightful owner)

Words: 4 726

TAGLIST: @meg-giry1 @wen01203

You felt like shit, utter shit. Your lower belly was hurting and you didn’t understand why. You didn’t tell your Father, Alastor, anything about this, not wanting him to worry too much about you. A few days ago, you had a massive headache and now this. For crying out loud you were only 14 years old !

You decided to sleep a bit more, but then your Father, Alastor Hazbin, the Radio Host, barged into your room.

“Rise and shine, Darling~!”, he happily said.

“Daaaad...! Just five more minutes, please...”, you whined.

The Radio Host looked at you in confusion and looked at the time. You already slept in two hours more than usual and that on your and his free day too !

“Cher, you slept two hours longer in than usual, and that on our day off too. Are you alright ?”

You turned to him and looked out from underneath your blanket.

“My lower stomach hurts...”, you admitted, knowing it was no use to lie to him.

Alastor looked at you in worry.

“Oh dear...”, he muttered and left the room in a hurry.

It didn’t take long for your Father to return with a cup of a hot drink. He put it down on the night table.

“Here you go, Cher. My Mother taught me how to make this. She said if a woman has lower stomach pains, this will help the pains to subside.”, he said.

You looked at him and smiled softly.

“Thank you, Papa.”

“You’re welcome, my little doe. Now...do you want to cuddle and stay in bed until you feel better ?”

You nodded gently and made grabby hands towards him. Alastor chuckled and got into your bed in front of you. You immediately crawled over to him, put your head on his chest and smiled happily, snuggling into your Father. The Radio Host wrapped his arms around you and held you, while you enjoyed the comfort he gave you.

As the tea was cooled down, Alastor handed it to you and you drank the cup empty, then fell asleep on your Papa, who didn’t mind it at all.

It was afternoon when you woke up again and needed the bathroom. You carefully got up from your sleeping Father’s chest, crawled to the edge of the bed and then got up, making your way to the bathroom. After you were done emptying your bladder and washing your hands, you returned to your Father and weirdly enough, fell quickly asleep again. This never happened before, were you sick ?

As Alastor woke up, he grimaced. He felt something wet and sticky on his upper right thigh, it seemed to have soaked through his pants. He tried to move carefully, to not wake you up, but it seemed to have been fruitless. You woke up and made a noise of disgust and discomfort.

“What’s wrong, Cher ?”, the Father asked gently.

“I feel wet and sticky between my legs, Dad...”

“Did you perhaps wet yourself ?”

You gave him an offended look.

“Ewww ! Papa ! No !”

He lifted his hands in mock offence.

“I was just trying to make sure, Cher.”

As he moved you and himself, he felt that the mattress was also wet.

“What in the...”, Alastor said in confusion, disgust and worry.

“Papa...is it just me, or does the mattress feel....wet too ?”

“I feel it too, mon ange (My Angel).”

Then you froze and Alastor could feel you clench your legs.

“What is it, Cher ?”

“P-Papa...I-I’m scared...”

“Why are you scared ?”

“I...I think I am causing the sticky mess, b-but it doesn’t feel like I am wetting myself. I-I can’t stop it either. Papa, what is this ?”, you asked scared out of your mind.

Alastor hated that you were scared, because he was scared and worried too. Just what was happening ?! He took a deep breath, held you close to his chest and then tore the blanket off of both of you. His eyes went wide in horror, while you screamed.

The wet, sticky patch was blood. A pool of blood and it came from you.

“Fuck !”, Alastor cursed in a small panic.

He got quickly out of the bed and looked at his brown pants, his right pant leg was colored blood red too on his thigh. Your blood red.

“P-Papa, d-don’t leave me ! I’m scared !”

He looked at you, his daughter. He knew he couldn’t stay. He had to call a doctor. His house doctor.

“I-I’ll be right back. I need to call a doctor. Don’t panic and don’t move. P-Papa will be right back, Ch-Cher !”

Then he rushed off, while you started to sob and stare at the mess you made in bed. He sprinted to the house phone and quickly called his doctor.

“Doctor Thomas Hugo, how can I help you ?”, Alastor’s house doctor answered the call.

“Mr. Hugo ! It’s my daughter, she is bleeding out !”, the Radio Host panicked.

“Mr. Hazbin, please calm down. How old is your daughter ?”

“Fourteen !”

“Where is she bleeding out ?”

“Her woman parts I assume ! Her pants are all red and so is the mattress !”

“Has it ever happened before ?”

“No, never !”

“So this is the first time. I see...”

“How are you so calm about this ?! My kid is dying !”, Alastor panicked.

The doctor chuckled in amusement.

“She isn’t dying, Mr. Hazbin. Your daughter is having her menstruation week. It is normal.”

Alastor was confused and worried sick.

“A what now ?”

“Ah...I suppose you never heard about menstruation week before...Every month, for a whole week, a grown woman is going through it. It is normal. If you need further information, you need to seek out a library and get a biology book about woman and their menstruation week.”

After a bit more of convincing, Alastor hung up, changed his clothes and rushed out of the house and quickly drove to a library. As he arrived he went to the exact section, his doctor told him the education book would be at. He found it quickly and went to the register. The librarian gave Alastor a strange look.

“My doctor recommended it to me for my daughter. I am a single parent.”, he said as he noticed her look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were a pervert.”, she said softly and checked the book out.

It confused the Radio Host, why he would be considered a pervert for purchasing the book ? He hurried back home, checked on his daughter, who passed out and then quickly started to read the book. As soon as he started to learn what was actually happening he got embarrassed and uncomfortable. So she wasn’t dying, her body was just growing up even more.

He looked at you and sighed gently.

‘This will be very uncomfortable to explain to her...’

He knew he was in for a long explanation...

-Time skip-

As soon as you woke up and saw more blood oozing out of your womanly part, you whimpered. Alastor heard and came into your vision, by kneeling over you and blocking your sight from all the blood you lost.

“Cher...we need to talk...”

“H-Huh ?”

“Listen...this is difficult to talk about...but I’ve called Doctor Hugo and explained your situation and he recommended me a book to educate myself and you in this. He claimed it was normal and...I know what is happening to you now, mon petit (My little one).”

“W-what IS happening to me, Papa ?”

“Your body is growing up, that’s what’s happening. You have your menstruation week.”

“What...is that ?”

“Well...every month you have a menstruation week. In that week you will bleed out, but it is never harmful. I...never wanted to explain to you where babies come from, but now...I have no choice but to tell you, so this makes sense to you. So are you ready for the most uncomfortable explanation you will, hopefully, ever have ?”

All you could do was nod and your Father sighed, sitting down to your right side and running his left hand through your hair, to calm you down.

“Well...when two people love each other, a man and a woman, they get wed. After they married they usually start to want a family, which means they want a child and...”, Alastor swallowed thickly, “...they go and sleep together, but not in the sense that you think. They kiss and all that and at some point they get undressed. A woman and a man always have different...tools between their legs. That’s why we are referred to man and woman, we have different genitals. These genitals have to...connect deeply and after a while of doing the deed, the woman ends up pregnant with a baby in her belly. This whole baby making progress is called: Sex or, as I rather like to call it: sexual intercourse. Can you follow my words ?”, Alastor asked, very uncomfortable.

“Kind of ? I mean...how do these genitals connect ? How does a baby go inside ?”

“Ah...”, he swallowed thickly again, “Well, you see, my Dear... The man’s genital is inserted into the woman’s genital and they move around until the man has something, called an orgasm. In that orgasm he can make the woman pregnant and she has the tool to carry a baby inside her. It is called a womb. You can’t make a baby without the other part either, besides you adopt a child. You, my beloved daughter, have a womb and something called egg cells. Every month your womb prepares to have a baby and if it doesn’t happen in that month, everything will start to...expire, practically. To get it all out, the dead egg cells and the preparations your womb made, you will bleed out. There are many words for this event. Menstruation week, shark week, period, strawberry week and so on. It usually goes a whole week and then it is over and you are perfectly fine again. It is practically just a cleanse.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust.

“Eww...I never want to have intercourse with a man. Yuck.”, you said with your tongue sticking out of your mouth.

Then you looked at your Father again.

“So...I’m not dying. I am just having my womb cleansed and it will take a whole week ?”

“Exactly. The blood loss is also supposed to be healthy for you. You have an exchange of blood, which is good. But a period is always different.”

“What do you mean ?”

“You can have more than one egg cell and if that happens, you will lose more blood. And at some point too much blood loss can make you feel dizzy. You can also experience cramps and they can vary from moment to moment. Sometimes they aren’t there, other times they just make you feel uncomfortable in your own skin and other times they actually hurt. Your lower belly pains might have been cramps setting in, my Dear.”

Alastor could tell you already hated this new development of your body.

“Great, so I will also be in pain when I am bleeding out. It isn’t bad enough that it feels like I am wetting myself without any control about it. Not to forget what a mess I am making...”, you groaned annoyed.

Your Father chuckled uncomfortably.

“You will also have cravings for different kinds of food and you will be extremely moody.”

You groaned again.

“Dad...please end me. I don’t want this.”, you begged.

“Sorry, Cher. But I can’t take this off of your shoulders. I already made a list of what I should get you. You will need some more hygienic utensils, like pads, for your underwear. We will need wet wipes, a few more washcloths, some bleach, Blood Thinner Tablets to clean the sheets and clothes, sweets, chocolate and some spices. Get washed up, as long as I am shopping. Don’t worry about the bed or the mess you will be making on your way to the bathroom, I will clean it all up when I return.”

“Okay, Papa...I love you.”

The Radio Host smiled at you and gave you a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too, mon ange.”

Then he got up and left the room, not long later he also left the house and drove off. You got up and out of bed, entered the bathroom and let some warm water into your bathtub. You will take a long, warm, relaxing bath...

-Time skip-

You were just done with washing up, as you heard your Father return. Yet you were too afraid to get out of the tub, the water slowly turning cold. You couldn’t stop the blood flow and you had tears of frustration in your eyes. Why won’t this damn nightmare stop for at least a few minutes ?!

“Cher ! I’m back !”, your Father called and you heard his footsteps.

Soon enough he was in your room with the things he knew, you needed. You were nowhere to be seen.

“Cher ?”

“Bathroom, Papa.”, you replied with a sob.

Alastor’s smile dropped and he put everything down on your desk, then knocked on your Bathroom door.

“Cher, are you still in the tub ?”

“Yes.”, he answered with a sniffle.

“Do you...want me to come in and talk what upsets you so ?”, he asked gently.

A hiccup and water was moving.

“Y-yes...”, you stuttered out.

Your Father took a deep breath, closed his eyes and then opened the door.

“I’m not seeing anything, Darling.”, he said, trying to not be a pervert.

“Pa, you saw me naked at least twice already. There is nothing new to it.”, you giggled softly.

“So you want me to look ?”

“Dad, I know that you aren’t like other men. So stop being silly and open your eyes, before you fall into the tub or stump your toe.”

“Alright, Cher.”, he said gently and opened his eyes.

He looked at you in worry and confusion.

“So, why are you still in the tub, with lukewarm water none the less, Cher ?”

Your smile dropped and you glared at your body.

“The flow won’t stop. New clothes would be stupid to put on at this rate. Pa, it feels nasty. It feels like I am peeing even though I am not. I hate it. Make it stop, please.”, you begged him.

Your Father gave you a sympathetic look and left the Bathroom, returning with a small package. He sat down on the edge of the tub and held it up to your vision.

“These are Tampons, Cher. They are a piece of fabric and at the end is a string attached. I got from each different thickness two packages. This one is supposed to be the average size and thickness.”, he explained, feeling uncomfortable.

Oh, how he wished his Mother was here now, she would have had no issues teaching you this. He had to read in a damn biology book about this and now he has to teach you. He is VERY uncomfortable, but for you, his sweet daughter, he would do anything. Even leave his comfort zone to help you. You two were in this together.

You tilted your head to your left in confusion and looked at your Father.

“Why is a string attached to it ?”, you asked.

Alastor gave you a gently, yet wobbly, smile. He opened the package, carefully pulled one Tampon out and unwrapped it, then showed you the whole thing. You were confused, but ready to listen.

“The string here is there so you can pull it out. The whole piece of cotton fabric has to go inside you, where the blood comes out. It won’t hurt, don’t worry. It will stop the blood from flowing out of you and soak it up instead. When it is full, you will know, then you pull it out and replace it with a new one. Also, each time you go to the bathroom to relief your bladder, make sure to change your Tampon. It is hygienic and you will have a longer time before you have to change it again.”, he explained gently.

You looked at the small thing in wonder, yet in uncertainty too.

“Where does it go and....will it even fit ?”, you asked.

Alastor gave an uncomfortable chuckle and nodded.

“It will fit, don’t worry, as for where...the book I read in, has a very good description as a picture, I will go get it and show you.”

“Okay !”

Your Father got up and left the Bathroom, soon enough entering again with the biology book. He opened it and turned the pages until he had the side, then he turned the book around and showed it to you. Your eyes widened and you blushed deeply.

“Oh my stars...”, you muttered.

He lowered the book again and gave you and awkward nod.

“Indeed...”

“Okay then...Can I have one now ? So I can get out of the tub ?”, you asked gently.

Alastor nodded, took out a new packaged one, while you stood up in the tub, opened it for you and gave you the Tampon. You took it out of the Package, pulled on the string to make sure it was connected correctly, spread your legs and then gently inserted the Tampon. It felt weird...but you almost forgot about it after it was fully inserted.

Your Father looked away in respect, not wishing to make it any more awkward as it already was. Then you carefully got out and tapped his shoulder as you were wrapped in your towel. He turned around and looked at you.

“All done ?”, he asked.

You nodded gently with a small smile.

“Feeling better too, Cher ?”

“A bit, yes.”

“Good. Get dressed, I still have to show you another useful thing you will need to wear.”

“Alright, Papa.”

With that Alastor collected the open package of Tampons, the book too and left the Bathroom, letting you get dressed. After you were all dressed up, you entered your Bedroom and saw your Father taking off the soiled bed sheets. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

“Can I help ?”, you asked him, feeling guilty that you ruined the sheets.

“No, no, Cher.”, your Father quickly denied.

Then he finished tearing off the dressing of the mattress, seeing the damage it took. A huge red stain. The blanket also had a red stain.

“This will be taken care of easy enough ! Now ! Sit down at the foot of the bed, mon petit !”, your Father said, chirpy.

You did as told and Alastor sat down next to you soon enough, another box in his hands. He opened it and pulled out a white, long slip looking thing.

“This is a pad. The underside has a piece of paper on it, you tear it off and it is sticky. You put it into your underwear for extra measures to not soil your clothes. There are short ones and long ones. I bought from each length 2 packages. You tell me which ones were the most useful and I will stock up on it. Understood ?”

You nodded your head, close to crying. Your Papa went above and beyond to help you. He gave you the pad he was holding.

“Fasten it into your underwear now, mon ange. I will clean the sheets in the bathroom in the meantime.”, your Father said and then took the soiled sheets, entering your bathroom to wash them.

You quickly did as he instructed and were happy that the pad stayed stuck in your panties. Then you entered the bathroom and saw Alastor already trying to get the blood out of the sheets. The water was cold and it was already pink. He seemed to have no issues to get the stains out. He stopped and looked at you.

“Go to my bedroom and lay down, Cher. Your menstruation must take a tool on you. It is your first time after all ! You might feel sleepy again. It is normal to feel drowsy the first time it happens.”

“Are you sure, you don’t need my help, Papa ?”, you asked unsure.

“I am very sure, mon petit. Go lay down.”, your Father assured you.

You nodded gently and then left for your Father’s bedroom, laid down in his bed, cuddled into his blanket and fell back asleep.

-Time skip-

You were woken up by your Father and the sun started to set.

“Cher, what do you feel like eating right now ?”, he asked you gently.

You were in thoughts. As much as you wanted to say it was Jambalaya...it wasn’t. You had no appetite for it. You wanted something sweet.

“I crave something sweet...which is bad..you don’t like sweets...”, you sighed saddened.

“Cher, it’s alright. You have cravings now, you can’t control that. However ! I might be able to eat ONE sweet dish with you, but that will be for dessert !”

“What will that be, Papa ?”

“Beignets of course !”

Your eyes flashed in happiness.

“You can make them ?!”

“I sure can ! Hahaha !”

You hugged your Dad quickly, but winced in pain as your cramps have returned. Alastor noticed.

“What is it, Cher ?”

“Cramps...I moved too fast...”

“No worries, my Dear ! I will make you the tea again and you will be just dandy !”, your Father tried to cheer you up.

You smiled happily and nodded.

“I would love that, Papa.”

“Now...how about I make us some Crawfish Étouffée, as main course ?”

You nodded quickly. It had been a while since you had that dish !

“Yes, yes ! Please Papa !”, you said happily.

Alastor chuckled and rubbed your back.

“Alrighty then !”

You yelped as your Father lifted you up and carried you, bridal style, out of his room, down the stairs and into the living room. He put you down on the couch and then left for the kitchen. He returned a bit after, with a cup of tea and set it in front of you. It was still steaming.

“Here you are, mon ange.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“My pleasure, Dear.”

Then he left the room again and started to prepare everything to make Crawfish Étouffée as main meal and Beignets as dessert. You pouted that you weren’t supposed to help, otherwise he wouldn’t have put you on the couch.

Your Father turned on the Gramophone and to life sprang a Jazz song, called “Broadway Rose”. You hummed a bit along, while your Father moved a bit to the tune. After some minutes you drank your tea and the next song came on, which was “Do just as I say”.

“Do we have only Victor’s songs playing right now, Papa ?”

“We do, Cher ! Is it not to your liking ?”

“No, no ! I love it ! I was just wondering.”

“Alright, Cher.”

As soon as your pain subsided, you stood up and entered the kitchen.

“Can I help, Papa ?”

Your Father looked at you.

“Only if you feel better, Cher.”

“I do.”

“Well then, you can ! Can you chop the onion, green bell pepper, parsley and the celery, while I prepare the crawfishes ?”, he asked and pulled out some crawfishes.

Some were dirty, so you nodded.

“I can !”, you chirped.

You quickly got everything ready, washed all the ingredients and then got to chopping, while Alastor took over the sink and washed the crawfishes. After he was done with washing the crawfishes, you were done chopping and he turned on the stove.

He made a roux first until it was a caramel brown, then he added your chopped ingredients.

“Can you get out the minced garlic, Cher ?”

“I will.”, you answered and retrieved it.

You gave him a teaspoon and as your chopped ingredients looked tender enough, to Alastor’s liking, he added two teaspoons of garlic to it.

“In the upper cupboard is Chicken stock, Cher. Can you please go and retrieve it ?”

You did as asked and he soon added slowly four cups of it. After all, they needed a serving for two. Everything was doubled, BUT the garlic. You weren’t a big fan of it. Alastor then added salt, pepper and more seasonings.

As soon as the mixture was boiling, he reduced the heat and put a cover over the pot, letting it simmer and only stirred it from time to time. While it will take for the next step a bit over 15 minutes, your Father started to prepare the rice already, by washing it and then adding it into another pot. He cooked the rice, knowing it will take a while anyways.

Then he waited a bit, while he smiled at you and instructed you how to make the beignets.

By the time the Crawfish Étouffée was finished, the beignets were in the oven, baking. Your Father quickly finished up the Crawfish Étouffée on both of your plates and then you both went into the Dining area. You both sat down and started to eat it, carefully, as to not burn yourselves. You hummed as the flavors exploded in your mouth and you felt happy.

As you were almost finished with consuming the dish, the beignets were ready, so your Father left to get them out of the Oven. He put over them some powdered sugar and then plated some of them, bringing them into the dining area.

“There are more in the kitchen.”, he informed you gently.

You nodded your head, as you two continued to finish your dish.

“I really missed your Crawfish Étouffée, Papa.”

Alastor chuckled gently.

“So did I, Cher. So did I.”

You gave your Father a gently smile after you finished your plate. You waited for him to finish too, no matter how much you were dying to try the beignets. After he finished he gently took a beignet and tasted it, humming in delight. You took one too and gently bit into it. Sweetness and flavor exploded in your mouth, but it wasn’t too sweet. You hummed and leaned back in your chair.

“These are delicious, Papa !”, you said after you swallowed.

He chuckled.

“They truly are, mon ange.”, he agreed and ate another one.

After you finished eating, cleaned the table, the dishes and your Father put away the leftovers of the beignets, he turned to you.

“Your bed is still wet, so I suppose you can sleep with me tonight, Cher.”

You nodded your head and left the kitchen, changed into your sleeping attire and then entered your Father’s Bedroom. You crawled into his bed and waited for him to arrive too. He did so quickly, changed in his bedroom, got ready for the night and then joined you in his bed. He hugged you close to his chest, which gave you comfort, you didn’t even know you needed.

You turned around and he laid on his back, while you put your head on his chest, curling up on him.

“You are the best Papa in the world, you know that ?”, you asked sleepily.

Alastor was shocked as you said that, but then smiled warmly and hugged you a bit tighter.

“Now I know for certain, mon petit. Sleep well.”, he replied and kissed the top of your head.

You smiled happily.

“Good night, Pa.”

Together the both of you fell asleep, exhausted.

Alastor was exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions he had, the trips he made and practically ran around town to not leave you alone for too long, with the cleaning he did and the immense relief that you were not dying.

You were exhausted from the whole fiasco the two of you had when your period started, the blood loss and from the bit of work you did. Your first day with your first period, was anything BUT easy.

But together...you and your Papa pulled through.

Masterlist HERE !

#Very first Period – Teen!Daughter!Reader x Father!Alastor #fem!reader #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #alastor x child!reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #Alastor x Daughter!Reader #Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader #Father!Alastor #Child!Reader #Teen!Reader #Daughter!Reader #Human!Alastor #Alive!Alastor #Human!Reader #Alive!Reader

[lowaltitude]

Oblivious | Spencer Reid

- Criminal Minds - x Reader, Rossi’s daughter. (Y/N Baker-Rossi)

❪ FEM! ❫ ❪ adult aroace virgin attempts to write smut Altitude

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Spencer Reid x AFAB+FEM!reader, in which SSA Dr Spencer Reid is dating his coworker. OR in which SSA David Rossi’s daughter is has been sneaking around with the smartest man in the FBI for months.

𖥻 established relationships. Not directly connected to Criminal Minds series timeline but an estimated place in the timeline around season 5. 8.2k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

───── ❝ backstory ❞ ─────

Carolyn Baker-Rossi, first wife of SSA David Rossi. After the loss of their son James, the couple began to drift apart and eventually filed for divorce after a case made him miss their anniversary in 1983 and he came home in time to see Carolyn packing his things.  A few months later, and with no complications, a daughter was born. Y/N Baker-Rossi.

Y/N was always a gifted student, deciding when she was 7 that she wanted to “catch the boogie monsters that daddy does” and following through.  Eventually, a few book releases and divorces later, Rossi’s 22 year old daughter completed her degree, resulting Rossi using his connections to get her allowed into the BAU as a liaison.

Y/N was spending 85% of her time at the BAU following around Penelope Garcia, 10% getting everyone coffee, and the other 5% staring at Dr Spencer Reid. The boy genius who joined the BAU 2 years prior as a Supervisory Special Agent.

2 years passed and Y/N— Agent Baker, affectionately nicknamed ‘Cupcake’ by Derek Morgan— was promoted, officially joining the team. And although she loved him, she refused to use her father’s last name while at work.

───── ❝ Oblivious ❞ ─────

Rossi‘s chair scraped along the floor as he pulled it out, and I groaned. Morgan called and woke me up at 6am, how much more murdering could happen if we waited just 1 more hour?

I wasn’t angry, but It was my first official case. I was no longer a liaison I was an SSA. My seat at the table meant something, but I didn’t expect them to drag me into work while it was still dark outside.

“Wheels up in 30” Hotch said, ending the briefing and giving us time to get what we needed from our desks.

Spencer was sat across from me like always, his hair messy and shirt collar a little messed up, and he pushed his chair out from the table before getting up.

I walked behind him as he went to his desk, and I went to mine. “Rough night?” I yawned.

“No, no. I’m fine.” Reid put his bag over his shoulder, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand.

I hummed in response and walked up to him, noticing that he tensed up as I got close to him. I put my hands on his collar, fixing it and his tie as he just watched me with his lips slightly parted.

“Uh, New collared shirts often come with stiff collars; however, after a number of washes and wears, the material that keep the collar stiff begins to soften, causing the shirt collar to lose its shape.” I nodded, enjoying the seemingly pointless information that he would often share. Everyone had left, the space around us now empty. “This leads to shirt collars curling and folding.”

When I was done, I went to step back and gave him some space, but Reid put a hand on my waist stopping me.

“Are you aware of how hard it is to avoid touching you while we’re at work?”

“You’re touching me now”

“But i’m stopping myself from… More”

“Nobody’s around” I kept my voice no more than a whisper, putting my hand on Reid’s chest and pushing myself up to reach him. 

“Ready to go, Cupcake?” Morgan entered, back over his shoulder and eyes down as he looked at his phone. Reid and I jumped away from each other before Morgan had the chance to look up and tuck his phone in his back pocket. “Kid?”

Both of us nodded and he turned towards the doors, Reid following a few steps behind him. I slung my bag over my shoulder, jogging to catch up.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“How was your first case?” Garcia asked, rushing towards me with an open container of cookies in her hands as we entered the BAU. Returning from the long trip to Florida.

“I might be a little traumatised but that’s part of the job” I looked in the plastic container, happily taking one and almost melting at how good the warm cookie was.

Morgan patted my shoulder as he stopped beside me, swiftly taking a cookie and earning a shocked gasp from Garcia.

“Those are not for you”

“Thanks, baby girl” He smiled. “You look like you need a drink after that.”

“I do, I really do” I sighed wiping the cookie crumbs on my pants. “Garcia?”

She nodded enthusiastically, putting the lid on the container. “Yes.”

“Drinks?” Morgan asked the other members of the team, clapping his hands together. He earned a few responses as the team packed the extra things from their desks.

The team conversed as they left the building, leaving Garcia, my dad and I a little behind.

“You did real good, kid. Make sure you call your mum later”

“Got it.” I nodded, watching him hurry to catch up with Hotch.

“So…” Garcia started.

I shook my head at her. “Don’t” Garcia and I had spent so much time together over the past few years that she was practically my sister at this point.

She claimed knew about my crush on Reid before I did, noting that ‘22 year old Y/N came in to see her dad and immediately took notice of the 24 year old who’d just joined the team.’ But i’d managed to keep it from her that we had progressed our relationship.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

With my FBI visitor pass— Which honestly seemed like a bad idea in retrospect, I walked into the bullpen and was barely noticed. Agents passing by without so much as a quick glance in my direction.

I spotted my Dad in a glass office, along with Hotch, and who I know knew was Garcia. He waved my direction, Hotch doing his best to smile at me before going back to their conversation.

Walking further into the room, I narrowly dodged someone with their head down looking at an open file as the walked and bumped into someone’s desk.

“Oh shit, i’m sorry” I muttered, the boy at his desk seemed barely older than I was.

“No, it’s perfectly fine. Young adults fall more frequently than expected, most falls even occur during everyday activities such walking and talking.” The boy looked up from the open book and papers scattered on his desk and It felt like I got slapped in the face by emotions that made no sense.

I couldn’t think of anything to say, I just forced my mouth closed so I could stop gawking at him. “Totally”

“Uh…” He stared at me for a second before quickly blinking a few times. “Each— Each year slips, trips and falls cause thousands of preventable injuries. In most cases, people trip on low obstacles that are hard to spot.”

I laughed, not really understanding what the boy was rambling about. Just nodding and smiling like a fool.

“Y/N” Hotch called my name, I turned to face the 2 men and the blonde. “Hey, I see you’ve met our newest SSA.”

“You’re an agent? I wouldn’t have guessed” I gave the boy another once over.

“Boy genius.” Rossi sighed “IQ of 180, photographic memory—”

“187, actually, and I have an eidetic memory. Eidetic memory refers to the ability to retain visual information with extreme precision while in contrast, photographic memory refers to the ability to remember everything in a scene, not just the visual elements.” The boy pushed his chair back from his desk, playing with the pen in his hand.

Woah.

Hotch cleared his throat. “Y/N Baker-Rossi, this is our technical analyst Penelope Garcia , and doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Baker-Rossi? As in, you, Rossi?” Garcia’s eyes widened, looking between us quickly.

“Yes.” I laughed. “From his first marriage.”

“Wow, I didn’t even know you had spawn. It’s great to meet you”

Rossi put his hand on my shoulder, taking my bag from my hands. “She’s actually here to see you, Garcia.”

“Me?”

“Y/N just completed her advanced degree in behavioral science, and while her application is pending I got permission for her to be a temporary liaison, somewhat of an assistant for you”

“Oh, assistant wow. Yes, yes. Come my child, I will be your seeing eye dog for the BAU.” Penelope linked my arm, taking the bag from my fathers hands and wishing me away. Hotch and Rossi already making their way back to the office.

I was flabbergasted to say the least, looking around as Garcia began to explain her position here. I looked back at the boy sitting at his desk and smiled. “Uh, bye Spencer”

“Yeah— Yeah, bye Y/N.” He spun his chair, watching Garcia and I as we disappeared down the hall.

When he was gone from sight, I took a deep breath. Spencer Reid.

When he spoke there was something eerily calming and familiar about him. Something in the pit of my stomach told me that this guy was special. Special in different way than being a young genius working for the FBI.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

As we entered the bar and found somewhere to sit, JJ and I sat beside each other so she could show me pictures of her son, Henry, on her phone. Spencer at the other end of the table across from Garcia.

I finished my drink and sighed, moving away from the table taking my glass with me to the bar. Rossi passing me his empty glass with a smile as he engaged in conversation with Morgan.

“Hey” I tiredly smiled at the bartender “Can I just get another Vodka and Coke, and 3 fingers of Whiskey please.”

The bartender got to work on the drinks and I found ed my attention on my shoes.

“Y/N?” I looked up at the person calling my name. “Oh my god, it is you.” I stared at the man in utter confusion as he walked up to me, leaving his friends chatting at their table behind him. “George. We went to High School together.”

“Whoa, George Maddison?” It finally clicked, he chuckled, nodding that it was in fact him. He was a handsome sight but in my memory I can still see him wearing his Harry Potter-esque glasses in his brown coat and black beanie.

“You look amazing. And I heard you work for the FBI now, isn’t that what your dad did?”

“Thank you, I really don’t feel amazing right now so it’s much appreciated.” I laughed, thanking the bartender as he put the drinks on the counter for me. “My dad actually still works for the BAU, he’s right over there. The team is just celebrating my first case.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“Spence” Garcia whispered, the boy practically grunting in response. “You’re going to burn a hole in the back of her head if you don’t stop staring.”

“I’m not staring” Reid snapped his attention to Garcia, keeping his voice low to avoid drawing attention from the other agents. He was staring, and he knew it. But of course he was there was someone else talking to Y/N, and he knew that when men go to a bar, they are typically looking for a good time, to catch a buzz, to let off steam, and maybe find someone to take home for a one night stand.

Garcia hummed, finishing the rest of her cocktail and pushing the glass towards Reid. “Here. Get me another, there’s your excuse to go interrupt.”

“Why would I interrupt, I’m sure Y/N is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She’s a highly trained federal agent and although studies suggest drink spiking may be more widespread than previously believed, on average—”

Garcia wasn’t listening, instead looking across the crowded bar at the tall blonde making Y/N smile. “He’s like Derek Morgan levels of hotness.” She muttered, Reid immediately shutting his mouth.

After a moment of silent contemplation, the 26 year old took Garcia’s empty glass and walked to the bar. Swallowing the lump in his throat and leaving Garcia smiling to herself as she thought about adding ‘Matchmaker’ to her resume.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“Another one of… Whatever this is” I heard Spencer’s voice behind me and turned my head to look at him.

“Hey” I smiled, my heart almost skipping a beat at the sight of my coworker.

Reid licked his lips quickly before smiling back at me. “Hey, sorry to interrupt.”

“Not a problem”

“Hi” George stuck his hand out for the lanky brunette to shake. “I’m George”

Spencer ignored his offer and instead chose to just nod at him in acknowledgment. “SSA, Dr Spencer Reid. Do— Do you two know each other?”

“Yeah, High School. We even dated for a while.”

“I wouldn’t really call going to the mall and a few kisses during spin the bottle ‘dating’.” I awkwardly laughed, swirling the straw around in my drink.

“Dating is a term coined in America to signify that stage of romantic relationships in which two individuals engage in an activity together, most often with the intention of evaluating each other's suitability as a partner in a future intimate relationship. Most couples go on 5 to 6 dates before discussing a relationship, and some take even longer.”

George momentarily seemed frozen, letting Reid’s words sink in. “See! We were dating, and I guess technically we never broke up. Thanks dude.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, dude”

I laughed at how unnatural it seemed for Spencer to say ‘dude’. My smile even beginning to hurt my cheeks. He turned to the bartender, taking the drink they had just put down and I raised an eyebrow at him.

“What the hell are you drinking?”

“This is Garcia’s actually, she wanted me to come get it for her.”

“Oh” He didn’t want to come be my knight in shining armour, rescuing me from the mystery man that could swoop me away from him.

“What is taking the two of you so long?” Rossi asked, reaching past me to grab his drink from the bar. “You’re young, aren’t you meant to be fast? Don’t answer that Reid it wasn’t a real question”

Spencer shut his mouth quickly. Rossi sipping his drink and noticing George standing with a smile on his face.

“Mr Rossi” He put his hand out to shake again. “How are you?”

“Have we met?”

“No” I answered, I didn’t want to hear another remark about us ‘technically’ never having broken up. “We did a play together in High School but, you were on a case.”

“I’m sure you want to get back to celebrating, but i’d really like to see you again Y/N.”

I raised an eyebrow at the blonde “You would?”

“Really?” Rossi and Reid said almost simultaneously.

“Definitely. Can I have your number?”

“Uh” I thought for a minute, I didn’t want to give some guy at a bar my number and lead him on in front of my boyfriend. But on the other hand my dad was standing right there. “This job doesn’t give me a lot of time to myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll work something out” Rossi smiled, gesturing for me to put my number into his contacts. Reid’s eyes widened and for self preservation he turned and went back to the table.

“Okay.” I forced a smile, keying in my number and passing the phone back him.

George left, my dad and I waving as I went back to the table and I took my seat beside JJ again. Sipping my drink and raising an eyebrow at the stares I was receiving. “What?”

“Who was that?” Emily asked, a slightly suggestive look on her face.

“Just someone from high school.”

Rossi hummed, looking over to where George was laughing with his friends

“He’s cute” JJ commented

“Yeah.” Reid said, catching my attention. “Dude seems great”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

We were lucky to have 2 days off before being sent on our next case, Reid and I sitting beside one another on the plane and enjoying what little intimacy we could have on the trip; Our arms touching on the arm rest.

The jet ride consisted of Rossi making popcorn, me and Morgan trying to sleep, Garcia calling us with more information and everyone doing their own thing.

As we left the airport terminal, Reid walked a few steps ahead of me, and I watched as the wind blew his hair into his face. The boy stopping and looking at me when my phone started to ring.

“Hello…?” I said cautiously

“Hey! Y/N, it’s George”

“Oh, hi. I didn’t actually expect you to call this soon, isn’t there some men’s unspoken rule to wait 3 days?”

“I’m just really excited to talk to you I guess.”

“I actually can’t talk, we just landed in North Carolina for a case.”

“Already? Wow, serial killers work fast.” He laughed on the other end of the line. “I’ll call you back some other time then”

My phone beeped and I took a second to look at it before putting the cell back to my ear “That would be great. I have to go, work call.” I hung up, not hearing whatever he tried to say before I cut him off and answering the other call. “Garcia?”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Hotch had split us up for the case, him, Prentiss and Rossi at the latest crime scene. JJ and Morgan at the house interviewing the family. Leaving Reid and I at the police precinct trying to find the MO, and looking for potential UnSubs.

Reid and I were professional, apart from lingering when our hands touched and the occasional longing stare. But we made it through the case without a hitch, and as soon as Morgan called to tell us they’d caught the guy we began to pack our things.

“I think it was pretty, uh, pretty hot how you worked out that the UnSub was taunting the victims.”

I scoffed, putting the photos from the whiteboard into a manila folder. “Replicating murders from famous movies isn’t that difficult to realise”

“There’s a number of generally agreed elements comprising popular culture. These aspects are often subject to rapid change, due to omnipresent media. It encompasses the most immediate and contemporary aspects of our lives.” He paused for a second to breathe and I leaned against the table to look at him. “Considering my circumvention for most aspects of modern technology or media, I show a fair amount animosity against popular culture, the likelihood that I would have figured that MO is only about 3%”

“I’m taking this as I need to educate you on horror movies”

“I’m well educated on classic horror films. In fact, I think my favourite would be Anita. The 1920 Austrian film that depicts a societal lady trapped under the spell of an unskilled hypnotist.”

“Have you ever watched anything that wasn’t a foreign black and white silent film?”

The door to the precinct briefing room opened before Reid could respond. The team walking in, exhausted from working without a moments peace.

Hotch put his phone down on the table. “Unfortunately theres thunderstorms coming in and we won’t be able to get a flight out until some time tomorrow. Garcia’s booked us into a hotel in the meantime, we can all hopefully get a good nights rest”

“I doubt that.” Emily said, a disgusted look on her face as she pushed the picture from one of the crime scenes across the table away from her. “This one was some real nightmare fuel.”

The photo made my stomach turn as well, a recreation of a scene from 1976 film The Omen. The victims face sewn into a Joker-esque smile and hung from the room of her house.

I quickly put the photo in the envelope and closed it so i’d never have to see it again.

“That gives you some time to call George.” Rossi smiled, helping pack up what was left scattered across the table.

“Dad” I groaned, earning a puzzled look from the officers nearby. Morgan and JJ chuckled at my annoyance I shot them both a glare.

“Reid, tell her she should be putting herself out there. I want grandkids eventually”

Spencer choked on air, his eyes wide as he tried to stop coughing and everyone looked at him in concern.

“Are you okay?” Emily asked, Reid nodding and putting his hand up to stop anyone from helping him.

“Um” He finally caught his breath. “Single men are far more likely than single women to be looking for a relationship or dates – around 61% compared to 38%. While looking both men and women report equal levels of dissatisfaction with their dating lives and the ease of finding people to date, women are more likely to say they have had some particularly negative experiences.“

Rossi stared at him for a moment, dissatisfied with his response. “Don’t listen to him. Call the boy.”

I rolled my eyes and Rossi picked up the case files, heading out of the precinct with the rest of the team and leaving Reid and I behind.

“That was… Uncomfortable” I laughed, combing a hand through my hair and picking up my bag.

“I was actually thinking how we could possibly utilise this whole George situation.” 

“Yeah?”

Reid put his hands either side of me, pinning me against the table and putting his face a few inches away from mine. “You can tell Rossi you’re going out with him and then we’ll actually be able to spend some time together”

“And after a few ‘dates’ with George, or multiple nights where I don’t come home, how do you suppose he’ll react if I don’t start bringing George around as my boyfriend?”

“Just a few dates, not enough to be considered a relationship but enough so he’ll believe you’re trying.”

I hummed in response, my lips just about to press against Reid’s— The feeling i’d craved for the past 3 days that we’d been running around on this case—

“Agents?” One of the local officers stood in the doorway, Reid taking a large step back with his bright red face. “Sorry to interrupt, but Agent Hotchner is waiting outside.”

Clearing my throat and smiling, I moved off the table. “Thanks.”

She smiled briefly, taking one step away before turning back. “You two are a really cute couple.”

Reid put his bag on his shoulder, looking down to try and hide the smile on his face. “Thank you.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Completely exhausted from the case, I didn’t even bother to change once I’d walked into my hotel room. Instead just collapsed face first on the the plush bed, the TV on at a low volume and the heavy rainfall outside lulling me to sleep.

Of course, as my mind finally went blank and eyes fluttered shut, a knock came at my door and I had to force myself up.

“Reid?” I muttered, the boy standing in the hall rocking back and forth on his heels. And nodding at me as I opened the door, eh just stepped inside and closed it behind him.

“I need you”

“Couldn’t it wait? I’m so tired.” He titled his head slightly to the side, a tuft of hair sliding down his forehead and breaking me. “Fine, what is it? Chemistry? Math? Missing sock?”

“No, no.”

“Then what?”

“I need you.”

I sighed, a ghost of a smile playing on my lips. “Spencer”

“Don’t say my name like that if you’re going to say no and send me away” His voice was so soft, breathy and faint. It set goosebumps up my arms.

Hotch’s room was beside mine, at least when Spencer snuck into my bedroom he had no chance of running in to Rossi since it was on the entirety opposite side of the house. I reached for the door handle, intent on sending Reid away, it wasn’t worth the risk even if I really wanted him right now too.

My arm brushed against his warm skin and I looked up at him, eyes locking on one other and drowning out everything around me.

I find life seldom follows the plans you've made.

Turning the lock on the door, Spencer waited for the click before hisface coming close to mine, sleepy eyes closing, medicine-sweet lips puckering up, and all the other sounds of the world going silent— The thunderstorm, whatever had been running on the television, the sound the rain made on the small balcony as it made a small puddle— all silent, as Spencer’s lips finally met mine and I couldn’t get enough of him.

I was tired and sore but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted him, all the time. His weight on top of me. I wanted feel his warm breath on my skin. I wanted his sweat to drop onto me.

Reid took a step forward, his hands sliding down my body and stopping at my hips, cold fingers sitting on the exposed skin where my shirt had ridden up. Our breathing became heavy, more desperate as we gave in to our urges.

He took another step, forcing me to take one backwards and kept doing so until I felt the hotel bed mattress behind me. I slid my hand down his chest, Reid groaning as I reached his waistband, hurriedly unbuckling his belt. I grabbed the zipper of his fly and he pulled away from me.

“You’re going to have to be really quiet” He had a painful expression on his face, eyes shifting between my lips and eyes as if it truly hurt him to pull away from me. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I can be quiet.”

He didn’t waste another second, letting me fall back on the mattress so he could hover over me. Soft open mouth kisses along my kneel as he carefully undid the buttons on my shirt and I tugged at his zipper.

He shifted his weight, using one hand to hold himself up as he dug though his back pocket. Putting the shiny plastic wrapper in his teeth before pushing his jeans the rest of the way down before moving to undo mine.

I take the wrapper from Reid. allow him to take his own shirt off as I open it, watching as he rushes to get back to smothering me in kisses.

My hand touches his chest and begins to fall in excruciating slow designs, the boy almost whining against my lips.

Gripping a pillow in my fists as he breathes against me, hot air down my exposed him. 

Reid flips, me now straddling him and allowing me to playfully tug at the ends of his hair.

My phone vibrated on the bedside table, Reid groaning in frustration and pulling away from me.

“Ignore it” I muttered, using my index finger to turn his face so he was looking at me again. The phone stopped and he smiled into the kiss until the phone started again. He pulled away. Making me the one to whine this time.

“Hello?” He said into the phone “She’s busy.”

He hung up, putting the phone back on the bedside table and gripping his hands on my thighs to pull me closer to him. Skin to skin.

I moaned and Reid laughed, moving to place a kiss under my ear and whisper. “Quiet, remember?”

I wanted nothing more in that moment than to be with him. Feeling I was about to crumble like sand as the bed creaks beneath us.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

We all arranged to meet in the lobby, Emily and I were talking, entertaining the possibility of a ‘girls night out’ soon.

JJ walked back towards us with coffee cups in her hands, offering us each one. “Where the hell is Reid?”

“Maybe we should send someone to check on him.” Morgan walked towards the elevato, pressing the button and the doors opening instantaneously.

“Hey” Reid greeted. “Ready to go?”

“What took you so long?” Rossi asked

“I didn’t get a very good nights rest.” He walked off the elevator, heading towards the exit. “Poor sleep habits often include an irregular schedule, more than 90 percent of law enforcement officers report being routinely fatigued.”

Reid and I were in seperate cars, unintentionally splitting into women in one and men in the other. I spent the entire drive wondering what they were talking about.

“You alright, Baker?” Emily asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror

“Yeah, i’m fine.” She raised an eyebrow and I sighed. Working with profilers sucks. “I’m just trying to work out why my dad is suddenly so pushy about me dating someone.”

“Maybe he knows you have a crush on Reid.” JJ shrugged

“JENNIFER!” Emily gasped

“You guys think I have a crush on Reid? Did you hit your head or something?”

Prentiss sighed, parking the black SUV “We may have realised a long time ago. It’s not a very kept secret. I think everyone except Reid knows.”

“I’m pretty sure Morgan and Hotch are oblivious too.“ JJ laughed. Climbing out of the car.

We boarded the jet, JJ and Prentiss sharing a knowing look as I took my seat next to Spencer.

“Shut up” I mouthed, the pair of them shaking their head as Reid gave me a confused look.

As the jet started to take off, I listened to everyone’s conversations, checking my phone when it beeped to a new message from Garcia. I looked up through my eyelashes, Prentiss and JJ both looking at their phones and telling me we all just got the message.

Girls Night. Please. Tuesday. - P.G

Emily put her phone down first, mine and JJ’s buzzing again and Hotch noticing. “Are you three messaging each other?”

“Maybe” JJ smiled, putting her phone down after pressing send.

Morgan raised his eyebrow as mine and Emily’s phones buzzed again. “What are you talking about?”

Yes. We need to talk about Y/N and Reid. - E.P

Tuesday’s perfect, and I agree we need to talk about it. Code name: Romeo and Juliette. - J.J

“It’s girl talk, Morgan. And no matter how smooth you are, it’s just not for you.” I sighed, clicking send and making a point to turn my phone off.

“Come on, Cupcake, don’t do me like that.”

There’s nothing to talk about! … but I prefer Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy actually. - /.BR

We had small conversations until we landed, all heading to put away files and clean up our things before heading home.

“So?” Garcia smiled, taking a seat in my desk chair “Anything happen this time?”

“It’s a work trip, G.”

“But Em and JJ know now, so something must have happened!”

“They just worked it out, profilers notice everything.” Apart from that we’d been in an exclusive relationship for a while now.

“You two are totally smitten, just ask Reid on a date. Rossi doesn’t have to know, I can keep a secret. Swear.”

I looked at Reid talking to Morgan across the room, nobody else knowing about the purple marks hidden just beneath his collar.

“See!” Garcia signed “You’re even blushing just looking at him.”

“Nothings going to happen between us.”

“Ready to go home?” Rossi smiled as he walked up to Garcia and I, oblivious to the conversation he had just interrupted. I nodded and he adjusted his bag strap. “Did you call, George?”

Garcia’s eyes snapped to look at my face. I had to focus on how I would answer, he’d know if I was panicked or lying.

“Yeah he called last night.” Truthfully he did, it’s just I didn’t answer, Reid did.

“And?” Penelope urged

I shrugged. “I’m very busy.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Girls Night Out. Usually we’d be out at a bar getting insanely drunk, but the night started at JJ’s house waiting for Will to come home.

“He’s asleep” She sighed, returning in the 3rd outfit she’d tried on since Henry had decided to throw up on her 1st dress and pee on the 2nd.

“Finally. Now we can discuss.” Garcia smiled, shifting in her spot on the sofa to look at me on the armchair. “Go on, Y/N.”

I laughed, having hoped they would have forgotten this topic over our luxurious 3 days off of work. “Discuss what?”

“Tell them how long you’ve been in love with Reid.”

“I’ve never been in love with Reid!” I protested

“First day she arrived at the BAU, the both of them, practically drooling.”

“Really?” Emily smiled, looking at me with a glint in her eye.

“Hey, well don’t you all look pretty.” Will draped his coat over the back of the couch, everyone greeting him and standing ready to leave.

“Henry‘s asleep, we’ll hopefully only be out for a few hours.” JJ kissed her partner and he gave her a warm loving smile. Maybe I could tell them about Reid and I, but we had a very different situation to others.

Most people don’t work with both their boyfriend and father.

As we left JJ’s the topic shifted and I was immediately relieved, enjoying listening to everyone’s funny anecdotes much more.

The bar we went to was busy, full of people out celebrating. Any time my glass was empty, a new one seemed to appear in front of me until I was viewing everything in a slight haze.

“I think we should go!” JJ announced loudly, pushing herself up from the table and knocking over Emily’s drink.

“At least it’s the weekend” Garcia groaned, picking up her back and adjusting her glasses.

Emily snorted “It’s Tuesday”

“Oh god”

As we managed to make our way outside, JJ’s phone rang and I whined. “Please don’t tell me someone’s murdered again”

JJ answers the call “It’s Will”

“Will!” I cheered, flagging down a taxi for us. I told the man Garcia’s address first since her apartment building was the closest, and we drove off as soon as JJ was done on the phone telling Will we were all safe.

Emily, as the most sober. was in the front telling the driver addresses and making sure we all got to the door safely.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” Prentiss sighed, knocking on the front door as I attempted to find my keys at the bottom of my bag.

Rossi opened the door, pyjamas on and sleep in his eyes.

“Dad, what’s up?” I snapped my fingers, finding my keys. I wasn’t completely drunk but I was buzzed enough that I needed a babysitter.

Rossi looked at Emily as he let me inside “Thank you” Shutting the door behind me, he put his hands on my shoulders to guide me to my bedroom. “Don’t throw up on my carpet”

“I won’t” I groaned, pulling my jacket off and throwing it on the end of my bed with my bag. Rossi turned the light on in my bathroom, walking off and returning with a large glass of water and some snacks.

“Get some rest.” He said softly, pushing a loose strand of hair from my face.

After he was gone, I yawned and pulled my phone from my bag, keying in Reid’s number.

“Spencer” I coo’d when he answered, dragging his name out.

“How much did you drink?”

“Not enough.”

“It’s been stated that to reduce the risk of harm from alcohol-related disease or injury, a healthy limit is to have no more than 10 standard drinks a week and no more than 4 standard drinks on any one day.”

I stayed silent for a few seconds, mentally trying to count how many drinks i’d had. “Then I had way too many.” Reid chuckled on the other side. “Come over.”

“Alcohol primarily affects areas of the brain associated with behavior regulation, this impairment in judgment makes people much more prone to saying the they normally wouldn’t sober.”

“But I would invite you over sober”

“A sober brain helps weigh the good and bad consequences of any decision, therefore I know that it’s probably a bad idea.”

“I hate sleeping alone”

“I believe this is what Morgan’s called a, uh, a ‘booty call’. Human nature to be monogamous but humans quite frequently engage in short-term sexual relationships as well. Evolutionary psychologists resolve this paradox by proposing that men and women employ both long-term and short-term mating strategies, depending on the circumstances. It’s important to note that—”

“Spence. Please.” There was a long pause, a few rustles coming from his end. “Spencer?”

“Hold on, I’m putting my shoes on”

By the time I heard the knocking on my window, i’d already changed into an oversized FBI t-shirt and pair or shorts. I pulled the curtains open, smiling at Reid and letting him in. Much more sober than I had been when I got home.

“Hi”

“Hi” He smiled.

He took a seat on the edge of my bed, taking his shoes off and I looked over the outfit he had on. Plaid pyjama pants, a grey shirt.

He dropped his dirty old converse and stood, stepping towards me slowly and embracing me in a warm hug. I practically melted into his arms, Reid pushing the hair from my face so he could gently kiss my forehead.

“Prentiss and JJ think I have a crush on you and you’re oblivious” I muttered, feeling his chest rise and fall as he laughed.

Moving away from him, I laid on my bed and waited for him to join me. The bed dipped and I reached for the remote on my bedside table.

Spencer raised an eyebrow “Really?”

“You need a horror movie education, i’m thinking The Shining. Morgan and I were talking the other day about how it was a revolutionary film for its time since it explored horror conventions such as isolation, fear, mental illness, and duality—”

Reid cuts me off by rolling over so that he's laying on top of me, parting my legs with one hand. "I get jealous when you talk about Derek like that," he says in a low voice, surprised that he's admitting this to her. "It gives me the wrong idea."

I can already feel my heart beginning to beat faster. "You know he’s just a friend" she whispers, my mind going wild when he leans down, pulling the neckline of my shirt and kissing my collarbone. 

"But he gets to call you nicknames, and I don’t" Reid whispers back and looks down at me again.

Before I can even think about her response the words, "But i’m all yours" spill from my lips and he smirks. 

Our lips become one and Reid grinds his hips against mine, groaning as he does so. He keeps moving his hips, creating a friction that make my breathing shallow— makes me want more. 

He pulls away, slipping the shirt over my head and kissing around my chest. "You know how crazy this all is?" He asks, hands reaching down for the button and zipper of his jeans as I nod. Our romantic situation was our secret but we knew it was crazy since we should have just told people from the start.

He stands so that he can pull his shirt off and motions for me to get up with a finger. "Can we try something?" he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling her down with him. 

He positions me so that my crotch is on his thigh and places his hands on my hips. Spencer's eyes take every single inch of my body. Never once had I felt bad about myself when with him. Whispering in my ear what he hoped to do with me tonight.

Normally, the idea of dry humping someone to the point of orgasm would sound like a ridiculous and odd suggestion, but with Spencer it was different.

We kiss again and I nod, willing to do practically anything that he could ever want to do together.

Reid’s hold on my hips tightens as he presses me down on to his thigh and, slowly, he begins to rock me back and forth. 

I try to think of how many other ways he could make each other feel. Not just physically. 

Placing my hands on his shoulders as he begins to move me faster, and pressing his mouth to my neck.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“Y/N” Rossi called out, wrapping his knuckles on the bedroom door. “Are you awake, Hotch said he tried to call.”

I shot up in bed, Reid still peacefully asleep beside me and I shook him awake. The boy blinked slowly, smiling at me like I was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

“Y/N?”

The smile disappeared and Reid threw the blanket off of him. Rushing around the room as quietly as possible to grab his clothes.

“One second dad” I picked Reid’s boxers off the floor, throwing them at him. He pulled them, and his pants, on as I opened the window for him to climb out.

Reid put his arms in his shirt, climbing out the window and pulling his head through the hole. He rushed away and I cautiously opened the door, pretending to rub my eyes. “Good morning”

Rossi smiled, cup of coffee in hand. “Your cell must be off, Hotch called asking you to come in.”

“I’m not meant to start until 12” I sighed, looking at the clock on my bedside. 9:30am.

“Better get moving” He brought his cup to his lips, turning and walking away as I closed the door and went to close the window.

“Hey” Reid reappeared outside, startling me.

“Jesus” I put my hand to my chest. “What are you still doing here?”

“I forgot something”

“You never forget anything”

Reid kissed me quickly, his lips warm and soft. “I love you”

He left before I had the chance to say anything back, leaving me dazed at the window for a minute until I managed to force myself to get dressed for the day.

Hotch smiled as he sat me, Garcia, Prentiss and JJ at the table. “Have a fun night last night?”

“The volume is up here” Garcia held her hand above her head, moving it down to the table height. “It needs to be here”

“You still have paperwork to fill out, need it done before the rest of the team gets here.”

Sitting at my desk, I mindlessly filled out the paper. Garcia got to sit in the quiet darkness of her office, meanwhile Prentiss, JJ and I were in the open bullpen. People walking buy constantly, and since JJ had the worst hangover she was constantly complaining  I looked over my desk, groaning when I couldn’t find what I was looking for and picking up my phone.

“Hey, Rossi.” I sighed, rubbing my head with my thumb and forefinger. “I must have accidentally taken one of my files home last night, do you mind grabbing it from my room?”

I could practically feel the sarcasm radiating off of him through the phone. “Oh yes my darling daughter, your wish is my command.”

“See you when you get here.” I yawned, ending the call knowing he’d grab the file from my room for me. Spencer pulled his chair out, sitting at his desk across from me. “Good morning, Reid.”

“Morning, Baker.” He greeted, glancing around before leaning forward and lowering his voice to a whisper. “Coincidentally, I found myself walking home in my socks this morning.”

He nodded to his foot, poking his leg out from the desk and I held back a laugh. “You’ll have to collect them later.”

“I guess so”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Rossi put his phone and keys down, closing the front door again so he could go and grab what Y/N had forgotten.

He walked into her room, spotting the folder on her dresser and picking it up.

Feeling the cold breeze coming in through the open window and walking to close it, Rossi almost tripped in the sneakers by the window.

David Rossi picked up the shoes, intent on moving them to the shoe rack in the open closet but stopped. He’d seen these shoes before, but he knew what his daughter wore.

It hit him.

Rossi knew who these shoes belonged to. And he was angry.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

We were waiting in the briefing room, all of us chatting at the table when Rossi walked in, smacking the file down in front of me. I looked up with a smile, about to thank him when I saw the look etched on his face.

A moment later, Reid looked up at me noticing the tension and then looking up at my dad.

Rossi ran his tongue along his teeth. “Why haven’t you called George?”

“We’ve been busy, but I’ll— I’ll do it” I tried to smile but the look on his face didn’t change, instead, taking his hand from behind his back and revealing none other than Reid’s shoes.

“Crap” Spencer whispered. Everyone silencing as they tried to understand what was happening now.

“Dave?” Hotch asked “You alright?”

“Spencer? Anything you want to say?” Rossi urged

I swallowed the lump in my throat “Dad”

Rossi slammed the shoes down on the desk “He’s messing around with my kid!”

“Technically, uh, I think ‘messing around’ implies that we’re frequently having unprotected sex” All eyes went to Reid, nobody knowing what to say exactly.

“Kid—” Morgan started

“Which We’re— We’re not.” Reid held his hands up in defence. “Well, we are, uh, active just not an impractical—”

“Spencer!” I shouted, trying to get the man to stop talking all together.

“—Amount. Once a week is a common baseline, although that statistic depends slightly on age: 40 to 50 year olds tend to fall around that baseline, while 20 to 30 year olds tend to average around twice a week.”

“Spencer!”

“Right.” The boy finally stopped talking. Everyone at the table was silent, eyes shifting between Spencer and I.

“Are you really mad?” I asked quietly, Rossi pulling out his seat and putting his head in his hands.

“No” He sighed. “Disappointed.”

“Why?” He’d already walked in here and slammed shoes on the table, making it everyone’s business. They’d find out eventually so we may as well have this conversation now.

“You kept it from me. I’m your father and you were sneaking around behind my back, don’t you trust me?”

“Can I say something?” Reid asked, Rossi pointing a finger at him.

“No.”

Spencer ignored this. “In our field everyone is at constant risk. We all know someone who’s been effected by our job, it was a lot safer for us to not tell anyone when we started dating. We actually discussed telling you around month 2 but it was—”

“How long has this been going on?”

“228 days” Everyone looked at Reid. “7 months”

“Rossi, it’s not that bad.” Hotch tired to make his friend see the bright side. “Albeit I didn’t know how far it had gone, I thought it was obvious they had some sort of attractive to one another”

Rossi looked at him with wide eyes. “You knew?”

“How did you not know? They always sit next to each other, long stares and awkward glances.” Morgan practically scoffed.

“Oh shut up, none of you really knew.” I laughed, feeling the mood change in the room.

Everyone laughed, agreeing and talking about how they only thought it was a meaningless crush that we’d never pursue.

“So” Rossi started once the laughter had died down, a small smile on his face. “7 months it’s serious? You’re not going to hurt my daughter?”

Spencer tensed. “No— No sir.”

“Good, because you know I have a gun and can use it.” Rossi leaned back in his chair. “Please just knocknext time you come to my house.”

“Oh my god you would not believe how big the bucket load of crazy in this case is I—” Garcia walked into the room, ready to present us with our new case when she stopped. “What did I miss?”

“Everyone knows that Y/N likes Reid.” Emily informed her. “And that Reid likes her.”

God it sounded so much like some school yard drama.

“Everyone? Oh… So what now?”

After Penelope was caught up, and celebrated that she was right— Noting “Penelope Garcia will always notice a blooming office romance. Always. Especially if it’s love at first sight.”— We were sent to pack for our case, Reid and I staying behind in the briefing room as he put his shoes on.

“No exactly how I wanted everything to go but I’m assuming it’s been accepted. We’ll have to fill out an Employee Relationship Management in HR.” Reid stood and I grinned up at him. “What?”

“I forgot something”

He looked at the table. “No, there’s nothing—” I cut him off by kissing him, waiting until he kissed me back before pulling away. “One more, one more.” Our lips met again, full of emotion. Gentle, loving and romantic. The perfect kiss.

“I love you, too” I whispered as I pulled back, Spencer staring at me in silence, slowly sliding his hands across my body to rest in the small of my back and resting his forehead against mine.

“Hey!” Rossi knocked on the glass. “None of that. Hands where I can see them Reid, you’re a smart boy you should know better.”

Copyright © 2023 Altitude. All rights reserved.

#kinda lost it at some point #i wrote one of the last scenes first as a one shot and turned it into this garbage #spencer reid #spencerreid #criminalminds #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #ssa spencer reid #ssa david rossi #david rossi #x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #david rossi’s daughter #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 #wattpad #fanfiction #fanfic #matthew gray gubler #MGG #don’t know if any of this is readable #smut #spencer reid smut

[whorefordaemon]

if you take requests, could you write or elaborate on Daemon and his daughters first time?

"I was made for you. By you..."

Warnings: nsfw, incest, creampie, infidelity, Daemon Targaryen.

Words: 2k

Daemon watched as his little dragon entered his chambers. It was so late in the night and she appeared so visibly nervous.

He leaned on the bed frame as she came closer. Her big eyes wide and excited, while also carrying a hint of anxiety.

"My sweet Dragon. What brings you here? Nightmares?" He asked her in a soft voice, their eyes locked together.

She whimpered. "Kepa.." She whispered before all but running into his arms, settling comfortably on his lap and hiding her face in his chest.

He blinked. "What is it my baby? Tell me. You know you can tell your Kepa anything."

She looked up at him, their identical eyes meeting and he held her close to him as she bit her lip. Taking a deep breath she blurted out.

"I want you! I cannot wait any longer. I just cannot bear to see you with Muna any longer. I..I am better than her Kepa. I am the one for you. Same as you are the one for me! I'm done waiting." She alternated between common tongue and Valyrian due to her growing excitement. She barely paused for a breath.

Daemon smirked as he watched her babble on and on before grabbing her by the throat and bringing her face closer, capturing her lips with his own.

Once he had felt her soft plump lips, Daemon couldn no longer think straight.

She gasped before she pushed against him, kissing him back with just as much fervor.

Her eagerness made up for her inexperience.

They kissed as Daemon's hands grabbed and pulled her flush against him.

Then his hands began to move under her shift, wanting to feel more of her soft, young flesh.

Her hands meanwhile wrapped around his shoulders, nails digging in as she kept him as close to her as possible.

She moaned as he slipped his tongue inside, sucking on it as they tried to all but consume one another whole.

Eventually they had to pull away for air and Daemon watched as she lightly moaned still, eyes closed and chest rising as she tried to calm her breathing.

"You want more of this, my sweet Dragon?" He asked her, laughing when she nodded vigorously.

"Please Kepa! I want this so much! I was made for you. Take me. Make me yours please..." She was so bold and eager.

He loved it.

He pulled her in for another kiss, far shorter than she'd like but then Daemon flipped them over.

She moaned as she was pressed down onto the bed, her Kepa's large body hovering over her. They were so close, she could feel the heat radiating from him.

All of his hard muscles, brushing against her soft body as she burrowed deeper into his arms.

But he moved away from her in order to take a better look at her, eyes running over her entire body. His. All his.

He loved all of her. So perfectly flawless.

He ran a finger down her chin, her neck and tits before he fixed his eyes upon her legs.

He spread her legs, the flimsy shift riding up and exposing her thighs and cunt to the night air.

Daemon stared at his daughter's cunt, the wetness glistened on her little nub and the tiny patch of silver hair only made him harder. If that was even possible.

"Take it off...Let me see more of you.." He told her, watching in amusement as she scrambled to do his bidding.

She tugged on her shift, whining as it seemed to stick to her skin and refused to come off.

Daemon watched his daughter struggle for a bit before he decided to intervene. Grabbing the front of the shift, he pulled at it so harshly, he easily tore the dressing gown in half.

She yelped as she felt the fabric rip, her breasts bouncing from the movement and her pebbled nipples never felt so sensitive, almost begging to be kissed and fondled.

Kepa eyed them and she bit her lip, hoping he liked what he saw.

She had often watched her mother, Lady Laena, as she dressed. She had been so envious of her large, soft breasts that she had once heard her Kepa say was his favorite part of her Muna.

She hoped that from now on, the tits he preferred were hers.

She was confident she'd be his favorite.

Daemon again ran his hands over her soft, still growing body. This time she was fully nude. All laid out in front of him like she was a feast. And he was going to devour her.

First he ran a hand down her neck and then slowly trailed his fingers down her soft mounds.

Then he touched her flat belly which he imagined would soon be full. With his seed. With his child.

It was such a depraved thought, Daemon smirked. "If only a Westerosi were to know..."

He imagined the sanctimonious freaks might faint on the spot. He nearly chuckled at the thought.

But the best, most scandalous part of her that he touched was her cunt.

He ran his fingers over her fat lips that hid the small nub that he knew would drive his daughter insane.

She moaned as she felt his long fingers poke and probe at her bundle of nerves. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine.

She watched as he further spread her legs before settling in between them.

She got up on her elbows, hoping to see what he was doing.

"Kepa? What.." She could barely finish the thought before letting out a loud squeak as she felt his tongue take a long lick at her cunny.

"AH!" She instinctively tried to close her thighs at the overwhelming sensation but her Kepa held on, gripping her thighs so tightly she knew they'd be marked come morning.

She was delighted at the thought.

Daemon ran his tongue down her nether lips, tasting her. He chuckled at her whining, wondering how beautifully she'd fall apart once he got the best part- her little pearl.

He couldn't wait to find out.

So, he got to work. Using his tongue to open her up before he probed her sweet bundle of nerves.

Instantly she let out a loud squeal, jerking violently in his arms.

Daemon didn't stop,  removing one hand from her thighs and using it to part her lips as his tongue drove deeper into her cunt.

He smirked as he felt her grab at his hair, bringing him closer to her while her thighs shook, locking around his broad shoulders, her toes digging in on his back.

He moved closer, putting her nub in his mouth before sucking on it.

Daemon was taken aback when his daughter screamed, hips rising off the bed and jerking as she squirted on his tongue.

"OH! Fuck! Oh Gods! Uh, oh..." He moved his head to look at her as she threw her head back, moaning loudly and shaking.

She whined, her limbs feeling like liquid, beyond her control.

He smirked, loving the sight.

He rose up, sitting inbetween her spread open legs that now lay limply on the bed.

"You enjoyed that my dragon?"  He asked, laughing when she nodded vigorously.

"More. I want more. I want to please you Kepa! As you have pleasured me now.." She told him, eyes eager as she too got up, moving closer to him to kiss him, tasting herself on his tongue.

Daemon groaned into the kiss, his cock was painfully hard now. He had to have her. Now.

He again laid her on the bed, slowing running his fingers over her puffed up, pink lips, searching for her opening.

His fingers brushed her hole a few times before he slowly eased a finger in.

His little dragon immediately jerked up in pain, hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging in as she whimpered in pain.

Daemon soothed her. Placing a kiss on her forehead. "There, there my baby. It's nothing. I'm not even inside you yet. You want this don't you?" He asked.

She nodded, eyes tightly shut as she tried to ride out the initial discomfort.

Daemon began to ease the finger in and out of her. Letting her get used to the sensation, watching as the pain melted away into pleasure. Then he began to increase his movements, getting quicker and rougher before adding a second finger in.

"OH! Ahhh...OH! Fuck!" She felt her toes curl as she felt another finger move in and the tightness in her belly snapped.

Daemon watched, beyond excited as she came undone for a second time, again squirting all over his hand. Her cunt glistened with her wetness.

The next time, they would have a shared release.

She fell back on the bed, chest heaving as she tried to compose herself. She felt so hot and bothered. Wet.

Her excitement only grew as she looked at her Kepa.

The next one would be the one that she came here for.

The next time, she would lose herself on his cock.

She lightly moaned at the thought, smiling at him as she pulled him into an embrace.

They kissed, tongues meeting before she moved to kiss his cheeks, neck and shoulder.

Silently thanking him for everything he'd given her.

"Let's get to the best part, shall we?"

He slowly removed his breeches, watching his daughter as his hard, thick cock came into view.

His cock weeped for release, wetness dripping from the head which appears red and angry.

She bit her lip as the large, thick cock came into view. How will that ever fit?

Daemon chuckled, as if reading her thoughts. "Worry not. It will fit. And the pain will only last a minute or two."

She nodded, ever trustful of him.

It only made him more hungry for her.

He grabbed her thighs, pulling her on his lap and spreading her legs wider. 0

He kept a hard grip on her hips with one had while the other took his cock and rubbed the bulbous head near her slit.

Gathering her wetness on his cock before he began pushing it in.

He groaned as she whimpered, eyes shut tight as tears sprung forth.

"Kepa! It, it hurts..."

"It will hurt a bit little one.." Daemon gritted out, his jaw clenched as he applied more force to fully sheath himself inside her tight hole.

"AH!" The pain felt unbearable but she quickly bit her lip in an effort to stay quiet. She didn't want him to stop.

They would come together this night.

A little pain meant nothing. She was dragon after all.

"My love..." He whispered, not wanting to cause too much pain.

"Nuh..No. Don't stop Kepa. Please. Take me! Make me yours!" She groaned out. Hands reaching to wrap themselves around him in an effort to keep him closer to her. Inside of her.

Daemon smirked, pushing in deeper and deeper each second until he was fully sheathed inside her.

She let out a loud gasp as she felt his balls touch her thighs, almost choking on air as she tried to comprehend their closeness.

The intimacy they now shared.

Daemon pressed a soft kiss on her neck and halted for a moment in an effort to calm himself.

He couldn't immediately move. She needed to relax and get used to him first.

"Relax..."

He moved himself on his elbows, her hands moving to grip his arms and bring him in a clumsy embrace.

"I am go..good." The words were quiet as her voice nearly broke off. She had been moaning and whining for quite some time after all.

Daemon nodded as he slowly began to pull out. Her cunt immediately tightening, trying to pull him back inside.

He pulled until just the tip remained inside before he again plunged himself deep inside her.

This time it was so fast and abrupt, she couldn't hold her scream back.

His cock hit her innermost part, the sensation left her dizzy and incoherent as she arched into him.

She tried to open her eyes but her vision was blurry and she couldn't keep her head straight. Trashing from side to side in an attempt to calm down.

Only her Kepa's voice held her to the surface as the pleasure threatened to drowned her.

"I'm going to really fuck you now. Hard and rough. Fast. Are you alright with that my love?" He asked her, tucking away a strand of hair and caressing her cheek.

She shakily opened her eyes and nodded weakly. Her whole body jerked and shook. A thin layer of sweat covering them both.

With that, he began to pull out again. Before pushing in. Then out again. And in. And out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

Each time thrusting deeper and harder, his hands going to grope at her body and pull her closer, roughly gripping her hips as he repeatedly pulled her to himself. On himself.

Making her scream as she creamed on his cock.

"AH! Ah! Fuck! Oh..uh, uh, uh, uh..AH! Please..." She wasn't sure what she was begging for but she could barely think straight in the head.

Her whole body was thrusted upwards onto the bed as her Kepa buried himself deeper and harder into her.

"Fuck! So tight and hot! Fuck!" Daemon growled into her skin, biting and kissing her tits, occasionally sucking on her nipples which nearly made her push him off as the sensations became too much. Too intense.

She felt as though her mind and body were about to break. So alien these feelings were.

Yet it felt so good.

"Fuck! Ahhh..Oh, my Gods...AH!" She felt her eyes roll to back of her head as she arched up and almost fell off the bed as she felt herself come undone for the third time.

Her cunt had never felt so wet and she could feel herself tightening further around her Kepa's cock.

That finally did it for him.

He nearly screamed as he came, hot seed rushing to fill her up to the brim, leaking out of her when there was no more space left inside her.

She hid her face in his broad shoulders, all but clinging to him as she felt her release last much longer due to the feel of his warm seed flooding her insides.

"Mother of Gods...Don't stop Kepa! I want all of it! All of your seed! Inside me! Please!" She shrieked when she felt him begin to move away.

Daemon laughed at her words before groaning as he felt his cock pumping her insides, painting it white.

He didn't think he had ever come so hard.

He stayed inside her, relishing in the feel of her tight, hot cunt as he felt his cock throb inside her one last time.

"Hmm. Do you think it might take root?" Daemon teased her, hissing when he felt her tighten around him.

She finally opened her eyes, bright and so happy. She felt so full and content. She nodded enthusiastically. "I hope so. I want to give you a son. Ten sons. And ten daughters. And more."

She wanted to have him all to herself. She wanted to give him everything he had ever wanted.

His love meant so much to her. She thinks she'd die if they were ever parted from each other. Not after coming so close. Becoming one.

Daemon smiled, soft and content as he leaned down to capture her lips into another kiss.

This is what he had wanted and needed. What was missing in his life.

Someone of his own. All his own.

He pitied all those who'd try to come in between them.

"I am hers. As she is mine..."

#Daemon Targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #father x daughter #Smut #First time #Asoiaf

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

can you do an Aaron hotchner x teen!daughter reader where the reader is about 16 or so and she gets her period at school and has nothing and she’s anxious to call Aaron (this is a few years after Hayley’s death so reader has no mom) but being the great dad he is he helps her out and pampers her for the rest of the day.

Aaron Hotchner x Teen Daughter Reader

Request:

can you do an Aaron hotchner x teen!daughter reader where the reader is about 14 or so and she gets her period at school and has nothing and she’s anxious to call Aaron (this is a few years after Hayley’s death so reader has no mom) but being the great dad he is he helps her out and pampers her for the rest of the day.

Third person pov...

It was just like any other day at school for 14-year-old Y/N Hotchner. She sat in her math class, trying her best to pay attention to the lesson, but her mind kept wandering off.

She couldn't shake off the sudden discomfort she was feeling in her lower abdomen. It was a new feeling for her and she was starting to feel anxious.

Then she rememberd this morning, Y/N Hotchner woke up feeling shitty, the 14 year old jsut wanted to lay in bed all day and not move, but eventually her Dad forced her to go to school.

The teenager knew exactly what was going on - she was getting her period. She had been dreading this day for a while now, knowing that she would have to face it alone without her mother.

It had been a few years since her mother, Hayley, had passed away, and Y/N still missed her terribly. She wished her mother was here to guide her through this new experience.

As the class finally ended, Y/N made a quick escape to the bathroom, hoping to find some relief. She rummaged through her backpack, hoping to find a pad or tampon.

But to her horror, she realized she had nothing. No pads, no tampons, not even a spare piece of paper.

Panic set in as Y/N mind raced with thoughts of how she was going to make it through the rest of the day.

She couldn't focus on her classes, and she was afraid to ask a teacher or a friend for help. She felt completely alone and helpless.

She couldn't believe she had forgotten to pack them in her bag. She didn't know who to turn to. She couldn't call her father, Aaron, at work and she didn't have any close friends at school.

Feeling embarrassed and alone, Y/N decided to call her father anyway. She took a deep breath and dialed his number. As the phone rang, her heart raced, and she prayed that he would answer.

"Hey, N/N" Aaron's voice came through, the young girl forced herself not to cry as she spoke, she knew he could sense the concern in his tone.

"Dad, it's me" the H/C teen said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Is everything okay?" Aaron asked, sensing the worry in his daughter's voice.

It was just a normal morning once his children left home he was at work, The team was busy working on their latest case and wrting uo whay happend

Aaron was absorbed in reviewing the evidence, when his phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was his daughter.

Who he had complete custody of after his wife her mother, Haley, had passed away a few years ago.

Aaron's heart skipped a beat, as he immediately answered the call, worried that something had happened to his daughter.

'Hey, sweetheart, is everything alright?' he asked, his voice filled with concern.

'Dad, I- I have a problem,' his daughter, who was now 14, said nervously.

Aaron's mind immediately went into overdrive, thinking of the worst possible scenarios. 'What is it? Are you hurt? Do I need to come pick you up?'

'I got my period at school, and I don't have anything with me. Can you please pick me up" his daughter explained, her voice shaking with embarrassment.

Aaron was momentarily taken aback by his daughter's confession. He had never expected to be having this conversation with her at such a young age, but he knew he had to be there for her.

"Okay swetie, dont worry im on my way, see you soon" He quickly reassured her and told her that he would be there to pick her up from school.

Aaron let out a sigh of relief, knowing that it was just a natural and normal part of growing up.

'Thank you, Dad,' his daughter said, the relief evident in her voice.

Aaron quickly wrapped things up at work and rushed to his daughter's school.

When he arrived at the school, his daughter was waiting for him at the entrance. She was relieved to see her father's familiar face, and she could feel the tension dissipating.

As soon as she saw him walking into the school, Y/N couldn't hold back her tears. She ran into his arms, feeling safe and loved. Aaron held her close, soothing her with his familiar embrace.

"Dad, I'm so sorry. I didn't know who else to turn to" Y/N apologized as they walked to the car.

"Don't apologize, sweetheart. I am always here for you, no matter what" Aaron said, placing a comforting arm around his daughter.

As they drove back home, Aaron could sense how uncomfortable Y/N was feeling.

He tried to lighten the mood by joking about awkward first period stories from his own teenage years, thought Y/N still felt awkward.

Once they got home Aaron handed his daughter a plastic bag filled with products for her, Thanking him she ran upstairs to change and finally be comfortable.

When she came back down she found her dad sitting in the sofa. "Thanks dad" she tells the man crawling into the sofa next to him.

Aaron smiles at his daughter and hugs her tightly. "It was no problem Sweetie ill always be there if you need me" he tells the teen making her smile.

The awkwardness of the situation finally over. Aaron made his daughter a cup of hot chocolate and let her relax in the living room. He could see how tired and drained she was from the day's events, and he wanted to make sure she felt pampered and taken care of.

He brought her a warm blanket and put on her favorite movie, letting her lay on the couch and rest. Throughout the day, he made sure to check on her and bring her anything she needed. He even surprised her with her favorite takeout for dinner, knowing that she probably didn't feel like cooking.

Despite the embarrassment and discomfort, Aaron's daughter felt grateful for her dad's presence and care. She knew that she could count on him no matter what, and that made all the difference in the world.

As she lay in bed that night, she smiled to herself, feeling lucky to have a dad who not only supported her but also knew exactly how to take care of her. From that day on, she knew that she could always count on him, no matter what life threw her way.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot! 4th one today wow I'm on a roll, sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1200

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #oneshot #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #father daughter fluff #aaron hotchner x teen reader #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner #periods #first period #menstrual period #daughter reader #x daughter reader

[fbfh]

dad!tony + stark!reader growing up/childhood hcs

wc: 1.4k

genre: fluff, a little angst, preventative hurt/comfort, family/domestic bliss

pairing: dad!tony + kid!stark!reader, gen 1 ironfam (tony, pepper, rhodey, happy) + reader

warnings: Tony loved your mom and thinks you look like her, your mom is not in the picture (open to interpretation), takes place in the early 2010s, mentions of iron man 1 - 3 and the first avengers movie, tony's a good dad, brief mentions of kidnapping/attacks/general danger, tony found out he had a kid and took you in backstory, bonding, tony's a good dad, did I mention Tony's a good dad

a/n: oh boy did this make me feel things lol. self shipping to cope hours who's with me.

@yesv01 @afidiofobia @thatmultifandomloser @babiesimagines @lizziebitch33 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl  @dustyinkpages @liberty-barnes

Knowing what Tony’s like

And we all know what he’s like

The odds are if you’re his kid that he did not know you existed for at least a couple years

(I also like this backstory most bc it puts you roughly in the same age group as Peter and Harley and yall already know how I feel about that)

Your mom is probably someone that caught his attention and heart during his playboy era then disappeared

A few years later 

You or turn up with a very detailed letter from your mom addressed to him

And you look so much like her it knocks the air right out of him

You also look so much like him too

You have all of his sass and intelligence and mannerisms 

It’s shocking at first

You probably came into his life some time after he became iron man but before the avengers were formed

Early 2010s yk 

Which means you actually have a little time to settle into your new life before shit hits the fan again

You know the whole “I’m trying to break generation cycles” thing he has with Peter in homecoming?? 

He has that exact same talk with you

He does so much research and a fuck ton of self reflection on how to raise a kid 

And really be present for them

It's a very spicy emotional time for both of you 

Because he realizes he needs to deal with all the unresolved shit he's been suppressing and ignoring 

And you're trying to deal with the fact that up until now, you really weren't being taken care of like you should have been 

And you're both trying to deal with how scary and dangerous all of the new threats out there are as Fury presses Tony to join the avengers

But you make it work

Because Tony is not giving up on you

And he's not resting until you're totally happy and comfortable and safe with all your needs met

The first time you call him dad?????

He has to try so hard not to cry

He's just so proud of you 

And he loves you so much

He gets that feeling whenever you call him dad

Even when you say it every day 

Even when you introduce him as your dad 

And reference him as your dad 

No matter how often it happens

He never stops getting that feeling

He majorly prioritizes making sure you have a good education too

And that you’re really getting something out of it

Whatever the best solution for you is, you’ll figure it out

While I love the idea of little baby stark just showing up to class in like 3rd grade and being like “this is my dad’s old prosthetic heart it’s a miniature arc reactor he built in a cave when he was kidnapped by terrorists” then proceeding to explain to your whole class and teacher how he designed built and powered the first draft of his suit, and how the electromagnet keeps the shrapnel in his chest from killing him 

Or Tony calling you in sick and you show up a few days later sunkissed with souvenirs from the gorgeous tropical island he took you to “on business” 

After getting separated and having both your lives threatened during the battle of manhattan and the surrounding events

And after getting attacked (again) and not knowing you thought he was dead during the whole ordeal with Killian

He’s going to want to keep you close to him

You can’t get kidnapped or hurt or attacked if you’re near enough for him to keep you safe

And he can’t get kidnapped or hurt or attacked if you’re close by enough to make sure he’s really doing okay

After all the shit you’ve both been through you’ll probably both end up with a lot of anxiety and attachment issues 

But he works together with you to come up with plans for pretty much everything and every eventuality

Even if you know it might not help change the fact that there will be more fights to take on in the future, having a plan for keeping you safe during them makes you both feel a lot more better

And knowing he’s planned for every eventuality takes a huge weight off Tony’s mind too

Which means he can fight even better and save the world with a little more security knowing you’re okay now, and you’re going to be okay when he’s done with whatever problem he’s dealing with

So practically speaking he’ll probably get you a private tutor

Maybe online classes or homeschooling if those end up working better

But he’ll have Pepper find him some good candidates, then grill the living shit out of them

He’ll figure out their communication styles, their teaching styles, and generally if they pass the vibe test

When he finds someone who will actually be able to help you learn, they have to train a lot before they start tutoring you

The last thing he wants is for learning to become a source of distress for you instead of a tool to empower you

Plus having a tutor he can drag along with you means you have even more freedom to jet all over the world so he can surprise you with trips without either of you worrying about you falling behind

And speaking of empowering you

There is absolutely zero chance you’re not learning self defense and how to fight

He somehow helps you skip past the “wow self defense is scary” part right into the “wow this is super empowering and I feel safer and more secure since I started learning how to do this” part

Once you fly through the ranks of a bunch of different self defense and martial arts and fighting styles 

Then you start doing hero training

He makes you a suit that’s armed to the teeth

And also safety protocoled to the teeth

“For emergencies only.” 

After many, many safety talks, now you get to move onto the fun part

He gets to teach you how to use it

Neither of you can deny how much fun it is learning how to blast lasers from your palms or shoot rockets out of your wrists

He literally gets to teach you how to fly

It feels magical

It really feels magical watching you

His kid

Literally learn to fly with his help

God he’s just so proud of you

He loves you so much

Between the traveling and the privacy issues and the safety concerns, anything else you do 

Any skills or extracurriculars or hobbies 

Will also probably be from a tutor or private instructor too

One of his love languages is gift giving

He’s really looking forward to when you’re old enough for him to just hand you a credit card so he can see what you find when you come back

But until then he gets to spoil the shit out of you

Real talk he’s not going to stop spoiling you when you’re old enough to shop for yourself anyway

He loves the way your face lights up when he surprises you with something really cool

Trips, events, gadgets he made you

Anything you could conceptually want or imagine

All he has to do is wave his magic wand and now you have hyper realistic rainbow silicone mermaid tails for when you go swimming 

You have a secret reading room hidden in the back of your closet that you access by pulling a book on a shelf

He even has a toy made after you in your favorite toy line 

Barbies, american girls, legos, action figures

Or whatever your favorite toy/figurine is

He surprises you with a new one that looks just like you

And you lose your shit

Because who wouldn’t

What can he say

Tony loves spoiling you

Your existence is the greatest thing he could ever hope for

You are the most important beloved cherished thing in his life

All he wants is to keep you safe and happy and well taken care of 

And maybe a little pampered and spoiled

But you deserve it

You deserve to have the world handed to you

Which is exactly what he intends to do

#tony stark #tony stark + reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x son!reader #tony stark x stark!reader #tony stark x reader #marvel x reader #marvel x stark!reader #marvel x child reader #mcu #mcu x stark!reader #mcu x reader #marvel #dad!tony stark #dad!tony x reader #dad!tony + reader #my silence is deafening tbh #when I first started watching marvel movies and was like 'oh cool tony stark would be fun to have as a dad lol' #i did not expect to find myself here #it's not just me right

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2

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: 12.6k 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* Mentions of sick loved ones, mutual pining, personal guilt, relationship turmoil. Summary: After only knowing Marcus for a brief time, you can already feel emotions beginning to build. Will that spell trouble for the relationship you've worked so hard to build with Sam, or will something else altogether begun to sow seeds of doubt? Notes: Once again I'm afraid I have to ask forgiveness in the edit of this chapter. I went away for a few days this week and ever since my chronic illness has been utterly kicking my ass. Hopefully I didn't miss too many errors here.

Game night will probably go down in the year's history as one of the best and most fun times that Marcus has had in a long time. He had laughed until his stomach hurt, his abs aching the next week for at least three days. He's gotten an open invitation back, but he doesn't know if that was a good thing, if he's honest with himself. His attraction to you is something that he's got to get ahold of if he's going to socialize with you more. It seems like everything about you just makes the heavens sing and the sun shine. It's crazy and he hates that, considering you are very happy in a relationship.

Eastern Market is his usual haunt on the weekend, preferring it to a generic grocery store, and he’s lost in thought enough that he doesn’t notice a familiar face at the florist’s stand across the way as he’s walking through the stalls. "Some peaches will be good." Marcus decides, looking through some of the fruits that have been trucked in from warmer states. "Peach smoothies." He decides, walking towards the gorgeous plump peaches on display.

If you were any other person in the world, it would be you who bumped into him and not the Secret Service agent contractually obligated to come along on your errands. As it is, when Agent Bailey defends you from being bumped into by the familiar figure of Marcus Pike, you’re the one who apologizes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, excuse u—Marcus?”

“Oh, hi!” Marcus shakes his head, reaching out and taking your arm. “I am so sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He apologizes. “Was focused on getting some peaches and didn’t notice anything or anyone, obviously.” He flushes slightly, feeling that pull towards you and hating that he looks like a jerk, or maybe just thoughtless, in front of you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

"Not at all." The flowers in your hands and the canvas shopping bags on your arm aren't harmed either, and you find yourself smiling much more brightly than you were even a second ago. "No harm done to me or to Agent Bailey, not to worry. Is it errand day for you, too?"

“Trying to eat healthier.” Marcus admits, slightly upset by the prospect but he figures that just comes with getting older. “Figured the produce here would be better than in a grocery store. Are these for the inn?” He asks, looking at the flowers in your hands and immediately reaches for them. “Let me help.”

"I thought my apartment could use some brightening up." He's seen the organized chaos that you live in and you're not embarrassed by it by any means, but there is a small sting to buying your own flowers just a few days before Valentine's Day. Sam isn't a flowers guy and that's perfectly fine, but you're definitely a flowers girl. When Marcus scoops them up without a second thought and stays by your side, you can feel your cheeks heat up. "I, um—thank you.

“Of course.” He huffs, as if newly made acquaintances should always scoop up flowers from you. “You chose brilliantly. They are gorgeous. Have you already paid for them?”

"Yes, so don't even try." It's just a playful warning that comes with a waggle of your finger, but you really have a feeling that he would try to pay for them if you hadn't.

He grumbles at that slightly. “Well, okay.” It’s almost pathetic that he takes note of what kind of flowers you like and he smirks. “So which flower is your favorite in this?” He asks.

"These," you point out a geometrically fascinating flower with petals that seem to spiral endlessly. "They're called camellias. We called them Winter Roses when I was growing up, but I've always loved them." The intimacy of the question goes straight over your head, just excited to have something pretty to split amongst the small vases in your little space.

“Camellias.” Marcus repeats the flower, filing away the information even though he shouldn’t use it. “They are beautiful.”

"Not everyone has them, so I tend to get my flowers here just to make sure they're in the mix." Barely aware that you're standing in the middle of a bustling market with people trying to move all around you, you have to shake away the warmth settling in you that is definitely not due to any kind of attraction. Nope. Not even a little. Not at all. "You, um..." you gesture to the next stall, where he was originally headed when the collision happened. "Peaches?"

“Peaches? Oh right, peaches.” Marcus laughs at himself and shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, I’m – I forgot.” He snorts. “I was thinking about fresh peach smoothies.”

"Ooooo, that sounds incredible." All of a sudden it's the best idea you've heard all day, and you grin mischievously. "It's not exactly standard, but the next time you're craving a sweet after having Indian take out? Make a peach smoothie. It's got that same vibe as a mango lassi but it's slightly sweeter, and it's the most refreshing thing ever."

“I was actually thinking about having Indian tonight.” Marcus admits with a grin. “To reward myself for eating healthier.”

"Best reward in the world." You agree easily. "I told myself I was going to cook tonight and make sure there were leftovers for another day this week, but I am teetering dangerously close to just calling for take-out as well."

"Well..." Marcus almost doesn't offer, because of the fact that you have a boyfriend, but he is truly meaning this as a friendly offer. "If we went to have Indian together, it wouldn't be as bad as ordering it as take out, would it?" He ventures, raising his brows in offer.

You should say no, You should absolutely say no. Not because the invitation is improper in any way — after all, he's a friend. But because of the way your heart bumps and skips at the offer like you hope he means it as more. He doesn't, and that is a good thing. In fact, Marcus and Sam got along fairly well at game night. But you can't help the way your cheeks burn pleasantly. "DuPont Circle?" You ask, confirming that he means he was intending to order from the same place you were. When he nods, you do too. "That sounds really nice."

"This way..." He's immensely happy you are agreeing to come to eat with him. "We can order the samosas and pakoras and not feel any guilt what so ever." He tells you, grinning at you.

"No guilt, but definitely extra time at the gym." His smile is dangerous, but apparently your self-preservation instincts aren't nearly as good as you think they are, because the only alarm bell going off in your head is the one that says Don't Let It Become a Date! which you just brush off. Surely that won't even be a possibility. It can't, because you and Sam have a good thing going. "Although, you're not masochistic enough to have my little brother as your biweekly gym buddy, so your trips are probably far less traumatic than mine," you offer with a laugh.

"Nope." Marcus chuckles. "I just torture myself by running around the Mall during my lunchbreaks instead of spending it in museums or at the food trucks." He snorts. "I just get to smell them just off the Mall."

"Have you lived in DC for three years without doing any of the food trucks out on the Mall?" That might be the most appalling thing you've ever heard in your life, and you nearly drop the peach that you had just picked up to add to your basket.

"Oh no." He laughs at that. "First six months I was here, I fucking lived off food trucks." He admits. "I was undercover and my contact checked in with me through the food trucks."

"Oh, thank God." The both of you laugh as you wipe imaginary sweat of your forehead as though it had made you nervous. "If you had never had Julia's Empanadas, I might have had to drag you down to the Mall right now."

"Then I wouldn't have room for Indian." Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the thought of how many empanadas he would try to fit in his stomach if you went to Julia's Empanadas. "And I'm really craving Indian."

"I am too." Although, now you're going to be thinking about empanadas for ages. Maybe you'll have to try making some. "How has your week been?" Making small talk is easy with him, as you poke through the fruit bins to find peaches, apples, and pears to snack on this week.

"It's been alright." He shrugs slightly. "Depositions for a few upcoming cases. So I've had to revisit case files and work with the district attorney's office to make sure that there aren't any surprises."

"Paperwork and meetings," you nod in understanding. "I get that. Being my own boss is a hell of a lot more paperwork and meetings than I ever thought it would be."

"Ordering supplies, creating events to drum up interest. Balancing budgets." He nods. "I can imagine that it feels like it's hard to get a free moment for yourself."

The way you nod is tired but proud. Every ounce of hard work that you put into that inn is worthwhile, and you do it with straight shoulders and as much determination as you can possibly summon. "Today is my first day off in...two or three weeks? It's...a lot. But it's so worthwhile. And it means that Syd has her place, too. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"So how did you come to have the inn?" Marcus has been curious about that. "Was it always your dream? Or something you fell into?'

"I really, really liked throwing parties when I was younger." That's the easy way to start, as you both move to the line to pay for your bundles of fruit at this particular stall. "That grew up into loving to have guests over all the time. And then dreaming about running a hotel. So I took my sociology and history double major and got a job a hotel in Philly after college, putting myself through a hospitality degree while I started learning the ropes. It was a lot of years of working my way up, but eventually I got hired as the manager for the Inn at Jones Point under the old owners. They were struggling to keep up with new technology and losing clients because of it, and then..." Your eyes flick up to Marcus, almost apologizing for telling him the whole story. "We found out the reason Anita was having so much trouble learning the new technology was early-onset dementia alongside a sizeable brain tumor. I bought the inn from them when they made the decision that a comfortable end to her life was the most important thing they could do. Michael – Anita's husband – he comes around once a week for dinner and to check up on the place now that she's gone. He likes to keep an eye on it for her."

“That’s….” Marcus softens so much at the background story. “Beautiful. You are maintaining their legacy while adapting it to the new realities of time. Weathering time.”

"That farmhouse has been standing since the 1700s. We're just part of its legacy, not the other way around." The pair of you step up to be next in line, with Agent Bailey standing mere feet away managing to look imposing and nonchalant all at once. "The best part is that it could give Sydney her restaurant, and Juan a way to find himself in all the event planning. We didn't know what a team we'd be until we got going and now it's...it's just amazing."

“That’s incredible, and the fact that the place runs so smoothly is a testament to your hard work.” Marcus praises. He’s read some of the reviews and they are all positive, even the ones that had events beyond your control.

“That’s very kind of you.” Kind is an operative word for Marcus. As are sweet, funny, intelli— Nope, stop it, you’re getting dreamy again. Even the momentary distraction of having to pay for fruit is a welcome one if it gets your mind off that track.

Ouch. Kind is such a word that lands him in the friend zone. Which is where he has to be with you, but it still hurts. No longer edgy or cool like he was when he was in his old band. “What else do you need to get?” He asks, swinging his head around at the options available.

“I’m almost done actually.” It didn’t escape you that he flinched slightly when you were trying to be grateful and at least a little complimentary, and suddenly your stomach flips in fear that he might not like spending time with you are much as it seems. Or that you’d done something wrong. “I just wanted to get some fresh bread. But…I don’t know how much more you have to do.”

“Nothing.” He promises, shooting you a grin. “The least I can do is carrying things. Since you are saving me from a night of trying to cook.”

“Never learned to cook or just never got good at it?” There is a difference, after all, and it isn’t about want. Some people find cooking to be an incredible challenge. He gives you a look when you take your parcel of fruit from the vendor and accepts it on your behalf with thanks. Like a damn gentleman, you think with a pant in your chest.

“Never really had the time or the inclination.” He admits. “It’s hard to be enthusiastic about cooking for one, you know what I mean?”

“But that’s when you get to experiment!” Maybe it’s years of being friends with Sydney, whose world revolves around her tastebuds, but cooking has always been an outlet for you. It’s one of the only things you dislike about your apartment —the teeny tiny kitchen. “You can test out new things and weird combinations, and if it’s not great then the only person who knows is you. But if it’s awesome?” You grin up at him like you’re unveiling some kind of ultimate secret. “You become a rockstar at the next office potluck.”

Marcus chuckles. “I’m a rockstar anyway.” He jokes. “I’m the one who brings in the pizza and Chinese for the late nights in the office.”

“Okay, actually, that does count for a lot.” Walking in the direction of the bakery where you get all of your sweet treats and fresh bread, you readjust your shopping bag on your arm and try to glance around the place to survey your surroundings the way Agent Bailey has been teaching you. A comprehensive knowledge of your surroundings, she calls it. “I can’t really cook for my staff much when they have Sydney’s kitchen nearby, but I leave baked goods in the break room from time to time as a thank you. They work so hard.”

“There’s nothing better than snagging a muffin or a cookie when you’re rushing around.” Marcus agrees wisely.

“Or a slice of pizza.” It sounds like he works hard to keep his team in good spirits the same way you do, and you have to commend that in someone who works in such a dour field. Even art crimes — being less violent in nature, according to what you looked up the other night out of sheer curiosity — can’t possible be all sunshine and roses.

“Exactly.” He nods. “Sometimes we have all night surveillance or going through the evidence when something is time sensitive. My teams work better when they are well fed, and know how much they are appreciated.” He shrugs slightly, “everyone could benefit from know that every now and again.”

"Sometimes the weddings we run are just...they're insane. Or last year we had an entire family reunion take over the grounds for four very long days. I can't imagine it's half as stressful as what you deal with but the days can be really long and busy in their own right." For what it's worth, at least, you do love your job. And it's obvious that Marcus feels just as passionately about what he does.

“Oof.” He winces. “I bet the staff wanted to break out a bottle of bubbly when they were checked out.” Marcus jokes, chuckling slightly. “Yeah a lot of people don’t understand that when you love your job, the long hours are worth it.”

"Yeah." A tinge of regret breaks your smile, barely twitching in the corner of your mouth, and you barely nod. He can't possibly know what kind of a nerve he's hit — hell, you barely know yourself and you're the one feeling it. It just...it stings.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asks, immediately concerned when your smile seems almost sad.

"No." You reassure him much too quickly, and flinch in your own right when he looks skeptical. "It's just...not everyone thinks what I do is as worthwhile as, say, something like what you do. A—and that makes sense. Running an inn and upholding the law are—they're not the same. I'm not saying they are. It's just...that important to me. That's all."

“Whoever believes that is wrong.” Marcus insists wholeheartedly. “Running an inn is absolutely crucial. Maybe not to everyone, but to the people who need a little escape, a retreat to relax and revive themselves, your inn is a haven to them.” He is speaking passionately because he believes it. “When I’m out of town on a case, I hope that I can book a little inn. Something more personable than a Holiday Inn, so when I come back, it’s like a little slice of home.”

“I appreciate that. Really. It’s—I guess it’s a sore spot at the moment and I didn’t realize it. That’s all.” And you are absolutely not going to allow yourself to indulge in the image of Marcus coming back to the inn for you. Your place is not his ‘ little slice of home’. Even if you’re wondering what the would feel like if it was real.

“Well, you can always gripe and complain if you need to.” He promises.

“No, that’s—that’s not it.” It’s a little embarrassing, if you’re honest, but that’s only because you’re fighting being attracted to the man beside you. Otherwise you would just be chatting to a friend. “I just…don’t get to spend as much time with Sam as he would like. That’s all. Because we both have busy jobs.”

Marcus winces. “With the job he has, it would be hard unless you didn’t work.” He murmurs quietly. “But what counts is that you make the time you do have together special.”

“That’s what I said. Making the most of our time it’s what is most important.” The topic had come up again in conversation when you and Sam had talked about next steps — through the odd avenue of discussing your commute. His house to the inn isn’t a prohibitive drive, but it will warrant either having a lot of work done on your car or getting an upgrade. Right now you have no commute whatsoever, so you’re barely using your car outside of town.

“My favorite thing to do with my ex-wife was to curl up and watch a movie.” He admits. “Or work on a crossword together.”

“Those…” You laugh quietly, almost self-consciously, and shrug with the air of someone who is just about to give up. “Are the things I do with my good friend Agent Bailey, here. Though she kicks my ass at the Times Sunday crossword every single week.”

He rolls his eyes at himself. “I know it’s an old person’s activity, but I was normally exhausted from the academy.”

“Don’t you dare besmirch the Times Crossword.” A waggles finger and disapproving tsk seems to amuse him and it makes you smile, too. “That’s a mandatory topic of conversation at my mother’s dinner table.”

“Your mother enjoys the Times Crossword?” He asks, grinning at you. “She would get along with my parents. They have two subscriptions just so they can each do their own.”

“I’m keeping that in mind for Dad’s birthday this year.” It’s a brilliant idea. They would love to make a competition of it. It would be the highlight of their week.

“My parents got it as a wedding present and they enjoyed it so much, they kept it.” He tells you, smiling fondly at the memory of the two of them arguing playfully over their crosswords.

“That’s incredibly sweet.” There is a crowd at the bakery, as to be expected, so you and Marcus step into line to wait your turn. “I love the idea of being able to share small things with your partner. They’re every bit as important as the grand gestures, if not more.”

“Sometimes the smaller gestures are the most meaningful.” He admits with a grin. “I love cherry Danishes, and so did my ex. We would find these combo boxes of assorted and she would get the cherry one.”

“Giving up your favorite Danish flavor is not small.” An attempt at lightening the already light and sweet conversation is maybe…just trying to keep your own mind off of things. But that somehow doesn’t keep you from admitting the truth before you can stop yourself. “I have yet to meet the man I would give up my lemon poppyseed muffin for.”

“That’s only because you’ve never traded for a raspberry crumble muffin.” Marcus vows, smirking at the way you look stingy, even though he knows for a fact you aren’t.

“You’re on, Pike.” The smirk on his lips spreads to yours as effortlessly as breathing. “But lemon poppyseed is pretty impossible to unseat.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever had a raspberry crumble then.” He huffs, looking offended at the idea. “But I don’t think this place has them. I get them from a little bakery near the Bureau. I’ll have to bring you one.”

“I’ll get you a lemon poppyseed from the coffeeshop I go to in Old Town.” Even as its coming out of your mouth you know it sounds like flirting, but the fact is that you just feel so naturally comfortable with him. There is nothing flirtatious about muffins, you tell yourself. Nothing at all. “We can compare notes.”

“That sounds like a plan to me.” Marcus is extremely happy that you would like to make plans with him, any plans. Even if it’s just a friendly wager. “I’ll get the raspberry crumble. I say we each get two. And if you like the other one so much, you have to give up both.”

“Deal.” You put your hand out to him, willing to make a friendly bet on almost anything. That’s gotten you and your brother in trouble before, but this is harmless.

Marcus grins as he takes your hand, imagining that lightning bolts are shooting up his hand. Winking, he laughs, “just don’t be disappointed when you break that little rule of yours for me.” He boasts.

“We’ll see.” The tone of the thing really tries for teasing, but you end up so taken aback by the electricity in shaking his hand that you fluster — which is only compounded when you end up next in line and completely forget the word for ‘sourdough’ in the process.

“I, uh, I want-“ you seem completely out of it, and the bored looking boy behind the counter seems to be getting annoyed with you. “Can we have just a second?” Marcus asks, pulling you back and allowing another couple to go ahead of the two of you. “I’ve completely forgotten what I wanted.” He takes the blame, not wanting to embarrass you.

“Bread?” You manage to supply, feeling like a world class idiot for clamming up on something so routine. If being around him is going to be this big of a problem, you need to get yourself in order.

“Yeah, bread.” He nods, wrinkling his nose slightly. “What’s that type that I like?”

At this point he could mean him or he could mean you, or he could even just be speaking in theoreticals, but you have you head in straight enough again to blow out a breath and remember yourself. “Sourdough. I forgot the damn word for sourdough.”

“Thats it.” He snaps his fingers and looks back at the boy. “Could we get some sourdough bread?”

“Sure.” The kid looks at the both of you like you’ve gone insane but turns around to bag a loaf of freshly baked bread without a second thought for his strange customers.

Marcus pays for the bread, even with you huffing beside him and guides you towards the clearing. “That wasn’t that bad.”

“Only because you saved me from sputtering like an idiot.” It’s beside the point that he is also the reason you were sputtering in the first place. That doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that you couldn’t keep it together that bothers you. “Thanks for that.”

“Not at all.” He waves off your thanks. “Everyone has those moments.” He promises, smiling at you.

There is such a moment of relief when you exhale again that you have to make light of it or else you’re in danger of feeling far more grateful than is probably necessary, and that makes your chest ache in a dull and insistent kind of way. “That’s either very sweet of you or a complete placation, but either way I appreciate it.”

“No placation, I promise.” He crosses his finger over his heart and smiles at you. “Anywhere else?”

“That was the last thing for me.” Even though you have plans to have dinner with him that night you still can’t help feeling a little disappointed that the impromptu shopping trip has come to an end. “Unless you needed something else?”

“Well…” Marcus looks around, not wanting to let you leave just yet. “Maybe I could find a plant to kill?” He asks. “Something to brighten up my place?”

"Bit of a black thumb?" The excuse to not say goodbye yet is welcome, and you end up smiling more broadly than you mean to. "Let's see what we can do about that."

“More that I forget to set up someone to water my plants when I go out of town and they die miserable, thirsty deaths while I’m away.” He flashes you a guilty grin. “I’m a murderer.”

“Very rude of you to do to your plants.” The wholesome, straight-faced nod that you cry for cracks on a giggle, though, and you nod in the direction of an entirely different florist stand than the one you were at before. “What you need is a succulent.”

“That sounds a little dirty.” Marcus admits, not even realizes how flirtatious that sounds.

It does. And you didn’t mean for it to. You were just talking about the type of plant he could get. But then there’s that grin on his face and it’s so fucking puckish and * handsome* that you practically groan about how unfair the whole damn thing is. “Whoops?” You offer, obviously not apologetic in the least.

He snorts and winks at you again. “I don’t mind. Sometimes being a little dirty is a good thing.” It’s borderline inappropriate, so Marcus doesn’t say anything else.

“Sometimes it’s the fun of an otherwise boring day.” But since you’re genuinely afraid you might say too much if you go ahead with this line of thought, and since Agent Bailey is steadily avoiding your eyes like an older sister trying not to bear witness to your trouble making, you clear your throat and change the subject. “I think I snake plant would work for you. They’re really easy to care for and great for beginners or busy people.”

Marcus takes your lead and nods seriously. “I’ll take some advice. Any advice.” He shrugs slightly. “I wish I had the time for pets, but I don’t and it’s wrong to do that to them.”

“If I could have a dog, I would have a little corgi or a Yorkie in a heartbeat.” It comes with an almost wistful sigh, but you feel the same way he does. It would be cruel to the animal you’re supposed to be taking care of. “But since I have no concept of work-life balance? I have plants.”

“I’ll start with plants.” Marcus huffs. “If I can keep one alive? Maybe I’ll move on to cats? They are low maintenance.”

“Cats are fantastic. Sydney and Anna Leigh always had a couple when we were growing up and they can’t be the sweetest animals in the world.” There is a florist that specializes in succulents and potted plants further into the market and you head that way, chatting as you go. “I just always said I would want my kids to grow up with a puppy.”

“Puppy, a swing set in the yard and dinner together.” Marcus adds wistfully, having his own version of that same dream. “Every kid needs a puppy pal.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” And the knot in your stomach tells you that that isn’t a coincidence — that the future you’ve dreamt about probably lines up with the one he wants in so many different ways.

“We had my dog for nearly twenty years.” Marcus tells you. “He was my best friend and the best soul I’ve ever met.”

“I got Alex instead of a dog,” you giggle, silliness tinging the edge of his sweet nostalgia. “My little brother.”

“Isn’t a younger brother the same thing?” He asks with a grin.

“Very much so. And Alex is as much Golden Retriever as he is human.” If he were here, he’d give you so much grief for that comparison, but you stand by it. “What kind of dog did you have?”

Marcus chuckles. “A golden retriever.” He tells you without skipping a beat. “I’ve got a picture of him, wanna see?”

“Absolutely!” They say you’re either a kid person or a dog person, but you’re definitely both. Anything cute and squishy is right up your alley.

Digging out his wallet, it might be a little old fashioned to carry a physical photo of the favorite family pet, but he likes looking at it sometimes. He’s holding his dog, Hansel, in the picture. The white around the dog’s snout indicative of the older age of the golden retriever. “Here he is. Hansel.”

“What an angel!” If you could jump right through the photo and squeeze his beautiful face you would — the only problem is that you don’t know if you mean young Marcus or the dog.

“Wasn’t he?” Marcus hums happily. “He slept in my room growing up. Hated me leaving for college, although I hated being apart from him too.”

"How could you possibly leave that face? Look at him!" Yeah, it's definitely the dog that you're talking about. At least right now.

“Yeah.” He smiles down at the photo, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the canine face with happy memories flooding through him. “He was the best.”

"So would you want another Golden Retriever?" Looking between him and the photo, you think you might be able to guess the answer yourself. "Or will no other Golden ever live up to him?"

“Probably not.” Marcus shrugs. “He was from a litter of puppies at the shelter. It was just a coincidence that he was a pure Golden.” He frowns slightly. “I would want to adopt. It’s the best way to give a loving home to an animal.”

"Adopting is the only way." On that, you can firmly agree. But you point to the florist stand up ahead and touch his arm gently in an unconscious moment of casual comfort. "First, let's get you a plant to adopt."

“Yes, I would prefer adopted over nursery grown.” Marcus jokes, trying to ignore how easy it is to be with you. You can just be a friend. It’s possible and it’s possible he’s lying to himself.

"Wild, orphaned plants wandering the lonely roads with all their belongings tied up in a little bandana on a stick," you tease, conjuring the image of a cartoon orphan as best you can. To the girl behind the counter, you turn your full attention and the best conspiratorial smile you can conjure. "We're looking for something he'll have trouble killing," you confide with a chuckle. "Something like a snake plant, maybe? Or if you have a better recommendation we're all ears."

“It’s best to start them out with a plant before having pets or kids, isn’t it?” She asks with a grin, eyeing Marcus in amusement. “But he seems like the trustworthy type to me.”

"A fine, upstanding citizen if ever I saw one." The smirk you offer her is playful, and you glance up at Marcus beside you. "Plus, I'll be keeping an eye on the situation. For the good of the adoptee, of course."

“Of course.” She nods seriously, even though there is a definitely shaking to her voice, like she’s holding back laughter. “Let me show you the best options for a recovering black thumb.”

It's several minutes of back and forth with the florist who parries your playful banter well, and you end up leaving her stand with not just a lovely potted snake plant for Marcus, but an identical one for your apartment as well. "I had to!" You coo, when Marcus laughs at the little plant that you're cradling like a newborn. "It's so precious! And they're twins! I couldn't just leave it abandoned."

“Well, we have to name them.” Marcus decides. “Twin names.” He grins at you, “what do you think?”

"Luke and Leia," you joke right away, because that will always be the first pair of twins you think of in any situation. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Oh, do the creepy girls from The Shining have names?"

Considering The Shining was his first foray into horror when he was younger, it was also one of his favorites. "No, they were just called Grady Daughters one and two." He tells you. "But..." He whips out his phone. "They are Lisa and Louise Burns, in real life."

“So are the plants Grady and Burns, or Lisa and Louise?” Either way they’re exceedingly silly choices, and you’re going for it.

“Either one works for me.” Marcus laughs. “It depends on if the plants are male or female.” He jokes.

“I think we probably get to pick,” you joke right back, making a show of rolling your eyes at him even though you’re laughing.

“Hmmmmm.” He pretends to take a closer look at his plant. “I’m going to surprise you.” He decides. “My plant is female.”

“Oh, that’s no surprise to me.” The smirk you shoot back at him is probably the lightest and most carefree you r felt in ages, and just for the moment you’re not going to second guess it. You’re just going to revel in the moment. “All my plants are female.”

He snickers with you and then tilts his head. “Lisa or Louise for you?” He asks, before he answers. “I bet you want the name Louise. You’ll pretend it’s for Thelma and Louise.”

“I—how—” Staring at him in utter confusion does not help matters one bit, but you still don’t have any clue as to how he could possibly have guessed that about you after only having met you two whole times. “So?” You ask after a second, realizing you’re laughing with the absurdity.

You have the most beautiful laughs Marcus has ever heard, and he loves that he caused it. There’s a flash of guilt that comes with the thought and he decides to reel it back into the scope of reality. You are becoming a friend, nothing more. “Who wouldn’t?” He asks, still chuckling. “They were the greatest female duo in modern cinema. In my opinion.”

“They line up against Idgie and Ruth from Fried Green Tomatoes.” You’ll stand by that pairing until the day you die, but the way warmth is spreading through your chest and your fingers ache dully from wanting to reach out for him is a special, damning sort of agony. “And I will die on that hill.”

“I had completely forgotten about Idgie and Ruth.” He admits, hanging his head in shame. “Forgive me.”

“Just this once.” There is still a teasing grin on your face when your phone goes off in your pocket. Sam’s name splashed across your caller ID and guilt crawls through your veins immediately. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, glancing up at Marcus. “Just give me one second.”

Marcus catches a glimpse of the name and it’s like he’s doused with cold water. “Of course.” He murmurs politely, turning towards a little book stand to give you some privacy, beating himself up for flirting with another man’s significant other.

“Hey honey.” The second you pick up the phone with a plant in your other arm and your groceries weighing on your shoulder, that is the second you feel most self-conscious.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice comes over the line and he has a straightforward attitude, jumping into the reason for his call. “I’ve had a dinner invite tonight, some potential donors.” He tells you. “Can you make it?”

“I—” It’s not like it’s an unusual request. If he has a work event tonight then the best possible person he can have at his side is you. The idea of having dinner with Marcus had been so uplifting, and now cancelling on him makes you feel awful. But this is your boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it. Where and when? Is there a dress code?”

Sam rattles off the address and dress code. “Thanks honey, I knew I could count on you.” He tells you before he murmurs to someone else. “Hey, I’ve got to go, I love you.” The line clicks off immediately.

“I love you too.” It’s said to the silence, and you look down at your phone for a moment before pocketing it again. Marcus has stepped away to give you privacy, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other before walking back over to him. “I’m really sorry,” you murmur, actually looking as apologetic as you feel. “Can we postpone dinner tonight?”

“Oh….yeah, of course.” He hates the way the feels rejected, but you have priorities, ones that aren’t him. “That’s no problem at all.” He nods quickly and looks around. “Well, we should probably get your things to your car, right?”

“I—I’m really sorry.” Repeating it just makes you feel worse. But both of you feel worse, unbeknownst to you, and you walk in the direction of your car with Agent Bailey her usual two steps behind. “Something came up.”

“Not a problem at all.” Marcus promises you, plastering on a smile as you turn to him at your car. “I understand. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of things come up.”

"It was really nice to run into you today." There is no word of a lie or even exaggeration in that, and you take your flowers from Marcus's arms carefully, loading it into the backseat with your other bags and Louise the snake plant.

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you. Marcus holds up his plant. “Thanks for the help.” He hums. “Hopefully I won’t kill Thelma.”

"If you do, try to make it as spectacular as possible." Offering him a half smile, you realize that you just wish you could give him a big hug, but that would be totally out of line. So instead all you can think to do is shift your weight awkwardly again before opening your car door. "I'll see you around, Marcus."

“See ya.” He nods and turns around to walk to his car. He doesn’t turn around, knowing that it would look weird if he did.

Once you’re in the car with Agent Bailey and focused on getting back home to put everything away and make a cup of coffee before you have to start getting ready for the night, you sigh softly and sit back in your seat. You can feel the curiosity of the Secret Service agent beside you and you wonder if you look as guilty as you. “That was a nice surprise.”

“Yes.” Agent Bailey hums. “Special Agent Pike was quite a surprise.”

“He’s nice,” you defend, very aware that you’re defending yourself and not him.

“He’s very nice.” She agrees. “And exactly who he says he is.” Of course a background check had been done on the agent, which she was glad of now that he had popped back up on radar. Not quite sure what to make of the interaction at the market, it’s also not her place to judge it.

"Well, that's a comfort." The drive back to Alexandria won't take long, but you twist your hands around the steering wheel a few times before pulling out into traffic. "Unfortunately, tonight will be the opposite," you tell her with a dramatic sigh that cushions the blow of having to attend an impromptu event. "Sam asked me to come to a dinner party tonight. Last minute invitation, I guess somebody had a seat they needed filled and asked him."

“I see.” Now she has to find out where you are going to be, who is on the guest least and it means overtime tonight. She doesn’t sigh, but she wants to, much preferring to go to small Indian restaurant over some political function. “I’m sure it will be a lovely evening.”

"I know you have to vet everything." The process seems exhausting, but you would never question the agent's ability to get her job done. "It's a private party at Arthur Connesby's house. The aerospace tech guy? Apparently it's a party for his wife, but everybody invited are Sam's constituents. I have a feeling they're going to spend the night trying to pitch their own interests to him, but if nothing else they might donate to his next campaign if they feel like they got to be friendly with him." It sounds like it will be a fairly boring night of overly rich old men feeling self-important, but Sam asked you to be there and that's why you're going.

“Noted.” The agent is immediately firing off a text to her support team, letting them know about the change of plans tonight.

"I know it's not what we had in mind." The night has gone from staying home and watching a movie and maybe playing cards, to dinner out, to an entire party. It's a lot of jumps in not much time. "And I appreciate you being flexible. Truly."

“It’s my job to protect you no matter what.” She reminds you softly. She enjoys you, has gotten to know you and thinks you are lovely, but you are Hummingbird to her. The First Daughter of the President of the United States and her assignment. She would guard you regardless of what you were doing because it’s her job.

"Right." You nod slightly, eyes cast back out on the road, and try not to slump even a little as you drive. It's not necessary to be everyone's best friend. You know that on a practical level. Right now your energy is better served focusing on the night ahead. "Well, I can still be grateful. So thank you. For...being professional. An very good at your job."

She knows that you are disappointed, but one of the cardinal rules of the secret service is to not be emotionally attached to your assignment. It would be too difficult to make life or death decisions. “Protecting you has been my pleasure.” She promises.

"I appreciate that." For better or for worse, the Secret Service will be a part of your life for the rest of your life. So if you can't be friends, at least you can appreciate each other. For now, though, you ought to focus. A party with your boyfriend's constituents is no place to have your mind wander.

The dinner party is exactly what you imagined it would be. Self important people, boasting about how important they are as they fawn over ‘more’ important people. Or the people who could give them access to the power they wished to have. Sam was in his element, smiling and shaking hands. Listening to ideas with a feigned interest that comes naturally to politicians.

He's charismatic enough to keep their attention but has enough of his own heart left that he does seem to care about issues being brought to him. Unfortunately for these folks, they're talking about a whole lot of things that just one man can't change on their behalf. So all he can really do is listen and express interest in whatever plight it is they have.

You have found yourself in the rather unfortunate position of being inundated by the significant others of these men, and when the party turns to mingling after dinner they somehow manage to whisk you away to the garden where you aren't sure if they're planning on trying to get you to dance with various people, or maybe join their country clubs, You really can't tell which.

“You must tell me, how is living in the White House?” One asks you, under the impression that you are still living with your mother.

“I understand it’s very comfortable.” It’s almost a relief that these women seem not to know a thing about you beside who your mother is. Your greatest fear about the whole thing was being hounded through every day of your life — so far that hasn’t been the case. But it’s been barely more than a month. There’s time. “However, I chose not to reside there.”

“Oh, what a shame.” She hums, wondering why you wouldn’t want to call the most famous house in America home. “I hear that it’s haunted.”

“That is what they say.” And according to your little sister, it’s absolutely true. But an upscale party of relatively stuffy guests like this doesn’t seem like the place to spout tales of your sister taking her homework to the Lincoln bedroom. “And it’s certainly very beautiful.”

“I would love to take a tour sometime.” She tells you, hoping that you might offer to set it up for her. An intimate tour would be amazing.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” You aren’t the sort of person who would exchange favors, so the thought that this could mean a donation for Sam’s campaign in the near future. Instead, you just know it would be something nice. “I can have something put together for you if you like?”

“That would be lovely!” She exclaimed, sending you a warm smile. “You know, you and the congressman make a beautiful couple. Possibly even presidential one day.” It’s a fishing expedition, feeling you out for your thoughts on a possible run.

"Possibly." And two weeks ago, you might have beamed at that implication. At the idea of Sam moving through his career with such gusto and motivation that he makes it all the way to the White House. But seeing what your father contends with as First Gentleman, the idea of being First Lady sounds overwhelming to you. It's even less likely that you would end up in politics yourself. "Sam takes his work very seriously, and he has high hopes for the future of our country."

“And what about you?” She asks. “You made waves, positive ones in my opinion, during your mother’s campaign about your stance on soulmates.”

"I don't have any political ambitions for myself." Of that, you can absolutely assure her. "While I'm more than happy to support the people around me, I'm very happy with my own career."

“At least until Congressman Chase makes an honest woman out of you.” She hums. “Then it’s so hard to balance your own career while supporting the ambitions of your husband.” There’s a rueful chuckle on her part. “Believe me, I know.”

"I won't be giving up my career." This is always a topic of conversation amongst significant others, you've found, and a topic that your father has contended with on multiple occasions. As your mother's career grew, he became a stay-at-home-dad and raised three kids. Because it was something he wanted to do, not because it was forced on him. And that has always been the key to you. "I own a business. So it's essentially my first child already."

“Oh?” Her brows wing up in surprise. “My apologies. I must have misunderstood.” Her eyes slide past you. “Excuse me, I must go catch Mrs. Jackson before she leaves.” She cuts off the conversation and hustles away.

It's a bit on and definitely abrupt, but the conversation wasn't very enjoyable to begin with so you smile politely and just let it roll off your back. Whatever she 'misunderstood' doesn't really concern you. Some gossip article must have speculated on the next steps of your relationship with Sam and you try not to let that kind of nonsense get to you.

“Having fun?” Sam comes up to you, his hand slipping around your waist and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You look amazing, especially since it was so last minute.”

"You always like this dress." The first time you wore it was the nominating party after the Democratic National Convention, and then again to a fundraiser in Chicago. That was the night you met Sam, and he had remarked even then that the dress was particularly beautiful. It seemed like the logical choice for tonight based on that alone. "It's a nice party." The food was predictable but tasty, and the drinks are flowing, just like the way you expected the night to go. "Do we think there will be birthday cake?" You ask conspiratorially, looking up at him beside you with a smirk. "Is that something people still do for fancy fiftieth birthdays?"

“Cake is universal.” Sam snorts and nods. “I have it on good authority the cake is a chocolate raspberry mascarpone cream cake.” He tells you, knowing it will be an idea you carry back to Sydney.

"I know exactly what Saturday's dessert special is going to be." Somehow your best friend will turn a classic cake into something elegant and thoughtful, and you know the entire restaurant will go nuts for it. They always do, when Sydney gets to show off. "Are you having a good night? I know you had high hopes for networking tonight."

“It’s going well.” He hums happily and beams at you. “How about you? Working the other side for me?” He teases playfully, aware you don’t usually like campaigning.

"Nothing that will get me in trouble with my Mom's staff." Not that he would ever ask you to do anything like that. Sam doesn't go in for most of the entitled bullshit that other politicians do. "One request for a White House tour that I'll put through the appropriate channels. Nothing too odd."

“Interesting.” Sam looks thoughtful. “Who asked for that?”

"Shelly D'Amario." The wife of District Attorney-turned-Superior Court Judge Raymond D'Amario was one of the few people you had recognized from press coverage of events supporting your mother's campaign. Her husband's politics were lined up with most moderate Democrats, and he tended to hand down verdicts with thoughtful conclusions at the end of each case. He's one of those people you wouldn't have minded at all sitting at this dinner party with, but unfortunately the Judge was not able to attend.

“Oh.” Sam nods. “I was at another dinner with her and the judge just the other night.” He tells you. “Picking his brain about Constitutional law.”

“She was very nice.” Though instinct takes over, and you chew on your bottom lip for a second before going on. “Did you guys talk…about me at all? About us, I mean? At your dinner?”

“Well, naturally you came up.” Sam admits with a slight frown, wondering if Shelly had somehow insulted you. “Not everyone is dating the daughter of the current sitting President. But I didn’t share any private details about you.” He promises. “Or your family.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that.” If he was the sort of person who went around sharing personal details with anyone and everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to trust him. Especially not under the condition you met in. Campaigns are cutthroat. “She just…said something that kind of confused me, that’s all.”

“What confused you?” He asks, trying to recall the exact details of the dinner with the judge and his wife.

Without wanting to imply that he might have said anything, you still glance around you to make sure that Agent Bailey is the only one close enough by to overhear you. “She seemed to be under the impression that I would be quitting my job if we ever have a family. And when I said that wasn’t the case, she said she must have ‘misunderstood’ something and walked away immediately.”

Understand dawns in his eyes and Sam shifts slightly. “Well, that’s not something we’ve talked about just yet.” He reminds you. “That’s a conversation we need to have.”

"Right." You couldn't agree more. "Which is why I was confused that she seemed to have heard an opinion about it somewhere before. But it was probably just some gossip article."

He hesitates and then decides to come clean, you don’t like liars. “I might have voice my hopes for our future.” He admits. “It’s not so unexpected, is it?” He asks. “I’ll be spending a lot of time at different events and I will want you by my side.”

"Sam..." There's disappointment in your voice that you don't bother to hide. Of course he's absolutely entitled to talk about hopes, as he puts it, but you can't believe that he would ever think you would give up the inn. "I own the place, honey. It's not like taking a smaller role in an office or shifting to part time somewhere."

“Yes, you own it.” Sam stresses. “But you can have someone else manage it.”

"But I don't want to have someone else manage it." It's really like you can't believe your ears. Sam has never voiced anything like this before within the dynamic of your relationship and he knows very well how proud you are of your work at the inn and how much it means to you.

By the set of your jaw and the frown on your face, Sam knows that he can’t argue the point right now. He shakes his head, smiling at you and taking your hand. “You’re right. I—I wasn’t thinking about how much you love your inn.” He admits softly. “Let’s just forget about it, hm?”

"O—okay." There he is again. Your understanding, supportive Sam smiling at you and taking the stress out of the situation. The man you started dating almost a year ago. Dependable. "Okay."

“Good.” He pats your hand gently and leans in to kiss you softly. “But I do still want to talk about moving in together.”

"After our date on Tuesday?" The Valentine's night you had settled on together is dinner at a small, family-owned restaurant in his hometown followed by a fundraiser screening of short films made by local high schoolers looking to update their school's resources with the proceeds. Community-oriented is the theme of the night.

“That sounds appropriate.” He agrees with a nod. “For now, let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening.” He looks towards your secret service agent. “Will you be allowed to come to my place tonight?”

"I think that can be arranged." The invitation means you'll be sleeping over at his place twice this week, which is definitely more than you've been able to do lately and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you just need to refocus yourself. And stop thinking about Marcus, for fuck's sake. You slip your arm around Sam's waist and lean into his side. "I just have to let Bailey know. Her relief agent will have to be told to go to your place instead of mine."

"Of course." Even though it irritates him, he nods. Understanding that you cannot help it right now. After your mother's term, perhaps you will decline protection.

"I know it isn't perfect." He's bristled about lack of privacy before, and though you can't say that you really blame him? There's nothing you can do about it. Secret Service protect for the President's immediate family is mandatory. And hell, you have a Secret Service agent in your apartment every night. At least when you stay with Sam, your agent usually stays in the living room or their car like a stakeout. It's typically left up to them. But still, you do understand the objection. "I'm sorry. It is what it is."

"I know." He sighs softly, hating that the evening has been sidetracked from what he imagined. "I understand. I just don't like them be so close when we are alone." He admits.

"I know." The last five minutes have become increasingly uncomfortable, but you still stick close to Sam and continue smiling, aware that eyes at the party might be on you just like they are anytime you go anywhere outside of your little haven at the inn. "But better that, than someone breaking into your house."

He doesn't point out that he has a security system and his townhouse is in a gate community. There's no point and it would just further cause an discussion that is best left for the relative privacy of his bedroom - with a secret service agent parked outside in his living room. He sighs. "Shall we get more wine?" He asks, trying to change the subject.

"Sure." There are people starting to dance to the music being piped through outdoor speakers, but you're not really in a dancing mood. There's too much swirling around in your mind to be light on your feet. "Wine sounds like a good plan."

Sam leads you over to the bar, ever the gentleman and stands beside you to look at the drink selections. "They have a nice pinot grigio." He murmurs softly.

"Is that what you want too?" The bar is open, of course, but the catering company has allowed the bartender to put out a small and discreet tip jar for the reasonably large party tonight, and you have a few more bills in your purse that you're happy to add to the jar.

"I think I'm going to stick with the pinot noir." He tells you, holding up his almost empty glass.

You order both glasses without hesitation and tip the very pleasant bartender, handing Sam his glass after it's put on the bar top. Just something nice to get the night back on track. At least as far as the two of you go.

"So I think that we should drink our wine and then dance." Sam suggests. It would be a good visual and romantic as a bonus. He's not calculating, but he does understand that optics are important in politics. It's a good opportunity to romance you and look good for the discreet photographers that are roaming around.

"And at some point, eat cake." Trying to lighten the mood a little is really your go-to for diffusing tension in any situation, and the air around the two of you feels a little thick, so you offer him a big smile instead of getting serious again.

"Eating cake is always a good way to spend a night." Sam agrees, smiling back at you.

"Morning." You haul yourself into the restaurant's kitchen the next morning when you arrive bright and early for your eight-a.m. start time looking vaguely less drowsy than usual. The other member of your Secret Service detail — Agent Sisson — has music taste more in line with yours and you'd listened to Duran Duran on your way back to town this morning. That and a cup of strong coffee means that you're feeling okay but definitely in need of breakfast.

“Wellllllll,” Sydney’s grin is bright as she eyes you. “I see the walk of shame has taken on a festive air.” She teases, laughing as she moves over to pour you a cup of coffee. “I take it last night went well?”

“I have enough time to go upstairs and change before work,” you grumble, though you’re smiling and accept the cup of coffee gratefully. “Usual boring party, but I bring you home a new cake flavor combination to try, and it was nice to see Sam.”

She snorts. “Nice to see Sam.” She mimics. “It’s like you ran into him in the store.” She huffs at you. “This is your boyfriend. The man you love.”

“And that’s why it’s nice to see him more than just one measly night a week.” Given that you have a few minutes, you hop up on a stool at the counter beside her work station and groan in appreciation at the slice of sweet Italian brioche and carefully cut piece of frittata she plates up for you without hesitation. “Oh my god, thank you. All I’ve had so far is coffee. We overslept and both had to run out to get to work on time.”

“Overslept…” she rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach. “I wish I could remember what that was like.” She grumbles. “This one is giving me heartburn all the time and keeping my sleep short.”

“They just really want to make sure you remember they’re there,” you tease, picking up a forkful of frittata and not even caring what’s inside. Everything Syd makes it incredible. “Twenty-seven whole more weeks of this, Mama. Get excited!”

“I am, I promise. But the kid can let me sleep in a little, right?” She huffs playfully. “So how was the dinner? You came back from the market in a hurry so I didn’t get to talk to you. Did you forget about this or was it last minute?”

“It was last minute. He got a spontaneous invitation to a potential supporter’s wife’s birthday party.” Oh my god, spinach and artichoke frittata, so fucking good. “She got the gift of bragging rights that a Congressman and the First Daughter came to her party, and a very nice bottle of champagne.”

“Sounds like a ton of fun.” Sydney likes hobnobbing even less than you do, preferring to be on the service side of fancy events. “So you ate mildly bland catered food and drank way too much wine?”

“Exactly. Which is why this tastes even more incredible than usual.” You point at your plate even while scooping up another bite. “So did you and Juanito ever decide what you’re doing tomorrow? I know you scheduled yourself for the dinner rush, but you’ve got to do something.”

“My husband is amazing.” She promises, beaming in delight. “He actually got us reservations at St. Regis for the Valentine’s Day Afternoon Tea.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet! It’s so utterly romantic I could barf.” The momentary flash of jealousy is nothing, and you’re genuinely happy that they’ll be able to get out and do something. They work so incredibly hard and never complain for a second. “It’s perfect, Syd. I want a full report.”

“I’m excited.” She admits, biting her lip and fiddling with her practical silicone wedding band that she wears in the kitchen. “I’ve also been promised a very relaxing massage and a few orgasms.”

“All things which you deserve very much.” You raise your coffee cup in salute to her and grin.

“At the very least.” She huffs, her own grin one of pure happiness. “I am growing Badillo’s baby.” She reminds you, as if it isn’t common knowledge at this point. She’s so proud of being with her soulmate and she cock her head at you curiously. “Have you given any more thought to that tattoo?” She pries gently.

“Yes and no…” It’s much more yes than no, if you’re honest with yourself, but the fact is that it’s probably not good to think about it as much as you have. It’s like a never-ending loop in your mind and you absolutely can’t shake it. “I just don’t know what good it would do to bring it up. Or who I would even bring it up to.”

“You know who you should bring it up to.” She huffs.

“Who?” You challenge, feeling like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place without doing so much as being awake this morning. “My boyfriend of almost a year who asked me to move in with him and wants to start planning our future? Or the guy I barely know who invited me to dinner yesterday when I ran into him at Eastern Market and looked so hurt when I had to ask him to reschedule that I still feel like I kicked the world’s cutest puppy?” Clearly it’s been on your mind, and Syd is really the one person you can talk to about any of it. But admitting that you’ve been thinking about Marcus feels like cheating and you have always despised cheaters deeply. Being cheated on will do that to a person.

“You ran into Marcus?” Her eyes widen with the new information and she immediately sets down her spoon and walks around the counter to hug you. “Oh honey, talk to me. What happened?” She asks softly. While she might be pushing you to at least ask if you might be soulmates, she doesn’t want you to be upset.

“It wasn’t a big deal…we ran into each other and we finished our shopping together.” It’s such a relief to have a space to talk about it, and yet you know you’re blowing it out of proportion in your head. It was just a coincidence that you ran into him. Not fate. “We were both talking about wanting Indian for dinner so he asked if I wanted to go to the restaurant with him. We were just going to hang out. Then Sam called.”

“And of course you said yes to Sam.” Sydney doesn’t exactly approve of the way Sam seems to think that you wait for his call and will drop everything to accommodate him, but she doesn’t say anything. “How did Marcus take the change of plans?”

“He said he understood and that it was fine.” Which is, technically, what happened. So when you shift your eyes away from hers, Sydney makes a noise and you cave. “He seemed disappointed,” you admit, throwing up your hands. “But I’m probably just projecting that.”

“Anyone would be disappointed to not spend time with you.” Sydney defends immediately, always the best cheerleader for you. “Maybe text him and reschedule?” She suggests. “Friends have dinner, it’s not cheating. You aren’t going out on a date.”

“I know it’s not cheating.” Syd knows better than anyone why you hate liars and cheaters. “I texted him on my way in this morning to reschedule, but I don’t…I don’t know if he’ll respond. He was probably just being polite asking in the first place.”

“I doubt that.” Sydney had seen the covert looks that each one of them had given the other when they weren’t looking during game night. Both of them were curious and she is interested to know about that hummingbird tattoo, it’s not common, despite what you might say.

“Then it’s because I’m best friends with his friend’s soulmate,” you reason instead.

“No, it’s because Juan said that Marcus was trying to be polite but that he was interested in you.” Sydney tells you.

You feel the blood drain from your face shamefully fast, and your eyes dart up to meet your best friend’s. “He said that?”

“Yes.” She isn’t going to lie to you, Juan had told her that. “But, he also said that Marcus respects relationships and he’s not the type of man to make a move on you if you’re in a relationship.” She knows how you feel about that kind of thing and she agrees with you.

“Well…I mean…that’s good? Isn’t it? That just means he’s respectful.” Still , you find yourself sitting on the idea that Marcus likes you and being halfway between mortified and grinning. It feels ultimately childish and yet like your chest is filling full of something very much like joy.

“According to Juan, Marcus Pike is the best man, the best person that he’s ever known.” Sydney acknowledges with a nod, deciding not to comment on your giddy expression. “Even though he was busy with training at the academy, he was always helping with housework or running errands to take care of things.” She shrugs. “His ex-wife was a med student. So I guess she’s a doctor now.”

“It’s just a coincidence.” This mantra of yours is going to get old quick, but you have a partner. A long term one, even. One that until a week or so ago, you had thought you had a future with. Now that resolve is waning and you don’t really know how you started to question yourself so easily.

Sensing that you’ve dug your heels in, she backs off, giving a small shrug. “I’m sure it is.” She hums. “So what are your Valentine’s Day plans with Sam?” She asks. “Did he plan something romantic?”

“We’re going to dinner and then a community fundraiser in his district.” It doesn’t sound romantic, you will admit that, but anything too luxurious you did can be perceived in a very wrong way by the general public if it gets out. A Congressman and the First Daughter going to a spa getaway or the symphony would be seen as being out of touch with the people. “He…wants to talk about the future.”

“And you don’t sound like it’s a conversation that you are eager to have.” She sits down, her own herbal tea in front of her and she frowns slightly.

“I’m…not sure, honestly.” Without hesitation and without filter, the explanation about your conversation with Judge D’Amario’s wife and what Sam said at dinner with them comes tumbling out of your mouth and you can’t help but cringe to yourself when you get it all out in the open air. “Am I overreacting? Please tell me I’m overreacting.”

Sydney winces and gives you a small shrug. “He has known from the beginning that you aren’t the type to want to be a typical politician’s spouse and give up your career.” She reminds you. “Remember that night out in Alexandria? Where we were bar hopping? I had a very frank conversation with him about that.”

“You did?” Your forehead scrunches as you take a sip of coffee. “Then why would he think I would be willing to have someone else manage the inn?”

“I don’t know if I can answer that.” She admits quietly. “But I think he gave them his true ideal. You quitting and being by his side for all his accomplishments.”

“It’s not that I’m not proud of him.” Some would argue that that is what it signals, but you and Sydney are not those types of people. “He’s doing such good work, and I do want to have kids and a house and all that domestic stuff. I just…I don’t want to give up working. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life standing behind a podium waving politely. I’m—I want to be me, not an extension of my partner.”

“I know that.” She reaches out and takes your hand. “But does Sam? Really? I think that he can convince you that it’s what you want.” She huffs. “I know he’s a good guy, but is he the right guy?”

“Not everybody finds perfect,” you remind her quietly, knowing that that is exactly what she has with Juan. Their version of perfect is about support, respect, and unending silliness, and you’ve always craved the same. But there aren’t many men in the world like Juan. Not many at all.

“That doesn’t mean you need to settle.” She tells you, squeezing your hand gently. “If you are happy, I’m happy. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“To be honest?” Closing your eyes for a second to swallow a sigh, the best you can do is shake your head. “I didn’t think I was settling. But now I can’t help but wonder…”

“Then you owe it to yourself, and to Sam, to make sure before you commit any further.” She suggests, knowing that you would feel horrible about divorcing later on.

“How?” It’s an honest question, since the situation is tangled up in guesses and implied maybes. “Break up with Sam because Marcus might be my soulmate? What happens if I’m wrong and I regret the whole thing? Sam would never take me back and I would deserve it.”

“Ask Marcus to show you the tattoo.” She hums. “That’s not cheating. It would be no different than seeing him in swimming trunks.”

“If he ever responds to me.” Which you sort of doubt. You sort of did just drop plans with him the second your boyfriend called. But you are the kind of person who makes your relationship a priority. You always have been.

“And if he doesn’t….” She shrugs. “You just deal with that.” She frowns. “But I would be upset if you had done the same to me.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t have a right to be upset with me.” Marcus has a right to feel however he feels. He’s human, after all. “This whole thing is just so out of left field. Especially after spending all of last year talking about freedom of affection and being happy with a partner who isn’t your soulmate.”

“Except you had never potentially met your soulmate.” She pauses and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want to pursue it, don’t. Juan won’t say anything and I’ll just encourage him to hang out with Marcus on a guys night.”

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly, poking at the remains of your breakfast with a frown. “First let’s see if he speaks to me again. I gotta go change my clothes for work.” A heavy blanket of tension works on you that wasn’t there when you came home, and you drag yourself off the stool with a swallowed sigh. “Thanks for breakfast, honey.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs, wishing for a moment that Juan hadn’t run into Marcus. Hadn’t mentioned a tattoo that was throwing you into a spin. “I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thank you.” Coming around the counter, you wrap your arms around her tightly and inhale, trying to remember your yoga and let the stress roll off your shoulders and not carry it into the work day. “And I’m always here for you. No matter what.”

“I know.” She grins into your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, bitch.” She teases. “I will go to war for you, bury bodies and not even think twice.”

"No hesitation." You link your pinkies together, the same way you have since you were little kids. "I really have to go change now. But thanks for listening to me ramble and fret."

“Anytime.” She scoffs, waving away your thanks. “You’ve listened to me plenty.” Lately it’s been about being a good mother and not completely wrecking Baby Badillo, but she understands the need to just vent. You’re there for one another, both of you, through thick and thin.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle

[mymelodymia]

Snuggles Dad!Tony stark x daughter!reader

Summary: you and your father fall asleep on the couch together <3

Warnings:

A/N: I wrote this at like 2 a.m (im tired)

+•°+*°•+

You lied down on the couch after a long day of school, and turned on your favorite movie, slightly giggling from time to time. Your father walked out of the lab heading straight to the coffee, you peeked around the couch to see who was there, "hey dad" you said half awake, he looked up at you, having not noticed you were there before "hey Y/N/N, you okay" your dad asked,

"Yeah just tired" you said yawning, your father, who had previously been making coffee to try to stay up again. Set down his drink And walked over to the couch where you were snuggled into a blanket with a small pillow under your head. "It's late, You need to go to sleep soon" your dad said given the fact that it was a school night. "Says you" tony sighed knowing that you had a point, he figured the only way to get you to sleep quickly,

Cuddles. Ever since you were a kid you always loved leaning into your father, holding onto him tightly never letting go. And so, he let out a dramatic diva sigh (im sorry i had to) and walked to the other side of the couch and laid beside you, upon seeing him just sitting there with a extended arm inviting you to come lay with him, you immediately took this chance by scooting towards him, resting your head softly against his chest, cheekbone just above his arc reactor.

Tony had his extended arm under you, elbow curled cradling your head, his other hand gently rubbing your back, you were snuggled within tonys arms, one of your arms wrapped around his waist, the other tucked under your blanket.

You both just laid there, enjoying the feeling of the others presents, slowly you started drifting off, before you could, you spoke up.

"I love you dad"

"I love you too Y/N/N"

With that, the two of you fell asleep in each others arms, your movie playing quietly in the background,

@anangelwhodidntfall

A/N: I have zero clue if this is good or not, this is my first fic I am posting, very short for how long it took, so if you see anything I can improve, please point it out, I like writing now I guess <33333

#Tony stark x daughter reader #dad!tony stark #daughter!reader #x reader #tony stark x stark!reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #Cuddles #snuggles #tony stark x reader #first fanfic

[becca-e-barnes]

Hiii I have nothing to do at work so of course I have to day dream about different dark!Bucky scenarios (I do not condone cheating but this is really hot to me aaaa)😩 like imagine your husband and Bucky have always had an ongoing rivalry, They worked together, went to college together, hated every ounce of each other. One night you’re at the bar with your friends when Bucky comes over to you and buys you drink after drink after drink, taking you back to his house. He’s throwing you on his bed and ripping your clothes off, kissing you hungrily. “Get ready baby, this is gonna be much tougher than you’re used to.” “Please.” “Yeah? Is he not satisfying you baby? This pretty pussy deserves to be treated right, luckily I’m here now.” He’s so rough with you, fucking you harshly, the dirty talking is driving you crazy. He’s so cocky and cruel, bending you in several different positions and pounding into you for hours. If only you had seen the camera… (part 2??? Bucky making your husband watch the video 😭) -💒

This, a thousand times over 😵‍💫 and I can just imagine throwing all the stuff at him that you wouldn't dream of doing with your husband. Maybe your husband really doesn't let you explore your fantasies and if you've got one chance to do that, you're determined to take it.

Especially if Bucky is quite a bit rougher than you're used to while still being so respectful. He got the impression that you're not being fucked how you want to be and he wants to give you everything you dream of when you touch yourself. He's not necessarily rough with you because he wants to be. He's rough because that's what you want.

If he's feeling extra filthy too, he'd fuck you in the bed you share with your husband. You're on your hands and knees on the bed, presenting your glistening pussy to him, enjoying the sensation of him smearing your arousal over the tip of his cock.

"Fuck, do you know how bad I want this?" He hums quietly, trailing his leaking tip over your slick folds. "Do you know how badly I want to press inside you? You've made such a mess. Bet you feel like fuckin' Heaven and he doesn't even appreciate it."

With his free hand, Bucky grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing just enough that you feel it hurt.

"Don't want to rush this though." His tip lines up with your entrance, teasing the little fluttering hole and God, you're desperate. "I want to take my time. Want to make sure every time your head hits this pillow, you remember how it feels to have every. Last. Inch of me slip inside you."

You can't have him wait any longer though so you press your hips back onto him, feeling just the tip slide into you. "Good girl, that's it. Fuck yourself on me. You need this, don't you? You need to be fucked right for a change."

He's not wrong. You couldn't stop now, even if you wanted to so you keep going, taking all of him. The weight of him inside you is delightful.

"Oh God, you're perfect. You feel like you were made for me." He doesn't dare move. Instead, he takes a second to just enjoy the wet heat of your body and the snug fit of you around his cock.

"You are. A fucking. Dream." He tests the water with a few shallow thrusts, rutting his tip against the sweet spot inside you. You're so wet, you're convinced you must be dripping onto the sheets and your eyes roll back in your head at the very thought.

This is how sex is supposed to feel. You didn't think you could crave anyone the way you do now. "Buck, please." You whimper, rolling your hips back against him, pressing him as deep inside you as possible. "Don't be gentle."

You hear him groan and feel his fingertips trail down your spine, making you arch your back into the bed. "Is that what you need, sweetheart? Can tell just by looking at you that you need it hard and fast and rough tonight. I'll be gentle with you tomorrow morning, I promise. Gotta work some of that tension out of you first. Bet you haven't cum in months."

You don't like that he can tell so easily but you're not surprised either. The first sharp thrust knocks the air from your lungs but all you hear is a pathetic sob, followed by the crack of a hard spank to your ass and the blossoming, stinging pain he's inflicted.

You're not surprised that it only makes you wetter.

#asks answered <3 #💒 anon #becca writes spice #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #I've got no words for what I've just written #I think I made myself dizzy #I want to give this like nine more parts eughhhhhh #and I think I'll definitely give it at least one more #tw: cheating #there's nothing I love more than finding someone you just click with #I usually stick with the same hairdresser #but my hair was sitting weird and I was desperate to get it cut so I went to a different stylist at the same place I usually go to #and we just vibed #she's the coolest #within half an hour we were planning how she's gonna tell the new man she's seeing that she's starting her first round of IVF #We talked the entire 3 hours I was there #and she said she hopes her daughter turns out like me 🥺🥺 #like no girl I swear you don't #but that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said

[carmillas-vampiric-rage]

i really adore how the fandom agrees bi-han would be a good father. he'd still be a dick, make mistakes, is a little too harsh with his children, but he doesn't want to put his kids what he went through as a child at the hands of bis father. Idk, i just really love that. it would be so easy to write him as a horrible father who doesn't care for his children, but this man would die and murder and kill and smile for his children in a heartbeat. they'll be great martial artists, trained from birth to break anyone's hip flexor, but they will also have a father who loves and cares for them.

it definitely doesn't come naturally to him tho. he wants to do this but it's kinda a whole new way of thinking for the man. bi-han isn't exactly one to open up or show any other feelings other than anger and mild annoyance- but eventually, with his never ending want to not be his father, and with the help of his partner, it's easier for him to really be the father he wants to be.

to hug his children, read them bed time stories, praise them when they've done well, praise them when they haven't done so well. not view his childrens' s emotions as weak. it's a huge mental adjustment for the cryomancer, but he does it.

also, I don't think he'd be set on "only having a son to pass on his legacy" idk, call me a woke liberal feminist (or a partner who'd beat his ass) but I don't think he particularly cares, he just wants a child or children who can eventually be the next grandmaster and uphold lin kuei principles.

catch this bitch having five daughters and obliterating the very being of a lin kuei lackey who he overheard talking negatively about his daughters. they will all be killing machines who love tea parties and watching my little pony, and he'll be right there with them (he knows the theme song by heart)

bi-han is a girl dad through and through and you cannot convince me otherwise.

#plus since he seemed to think very highly of his mother and love her dearly i think he'd want daughters even a little bit more #like come on bestie #i get he's bi-han but this bitch don't really care about gender #he's kicking your ass or kissing your lips regardless #his mother is the blue print for women and fem people in his life and so when his partner gives birth to their first daughter he's overjoyed #absolutely names her after his mother #tells his daughters endless stories of their grandmother and how much they would have loved her #y'all will never convince me this man is sexist or just wants a son bc #“reasons” #like be so fucking for real #😒😒 #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han #sub zero #mk1 bi han #mk1 sub zero #mortal kombat 1 bi han #mortal kombat 1 sub zero #bi han x black biracial reader #dad bi han #girl dad bi han #sub zero x black biracial reader

[juiles]

Can you do reader is Natasha and Wanda's daughter and is secretly dating peter parker, and the found out

I hope this lives up to your expectations!

The best moms in the multiverse.

Summary: in the ask.

Type: fluff.

Triggers: mentions of hydra.

Masterlist!

———————————————————-

Growing up in the compound was amazing. You had spent the last 12 years of your life there after your moms adopted you at 3 years old. You were the kid of a high up in the rankings, Hydra couple and the first three years you spent being tested on and learning to fight. You were supposed to be Hydras greatest weapon as you had the DNA of Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff in you.

When you were rescued by the Avengers, they did a DNA test on you to see if they could find your biological parents and they did. It just happened to be a couple inside the tower. Natasha and Wanda were ecstatic to have a kid together as they always wanted a family together. You were a very happy kid after that.

You were so very loved. The whole team took on different roles in your life. You loved having your moms most though. They were your best friends. Natasha and Wanda snuggled you to sleep every night, even when on missions, you always had either one of them until you were 10 then one of your aunts or uncles were always there.

As you grew up, you became best friends with Peter Parker, MJ and Ned. The 4 of you were inseparable and you were always found somewhere in the compound playing games then as you get older, video games and reading. Around 6 months ago, Peter asked you out in a date. You said yes and for the last 6 months, you two had been secretly dating without Tony (Peters pseudo dad) or your moms knowing.

—————————————————————

You were sat on the couch, both of your moms, Tony and most of your uncles were out on a mission. Pepper was left with you two however, she had run out to a last minute meeting, leaving the two of you alone in the compound.

You had your legs curled up underneath you while your head was against Peters chest with his arms wrapped around you. You were watching a movie and you had fallen asleep. Peter shifted so you were laying on top of him and he threw a blanket over the two of you before falling asleep himself.

You woke up feeling a pair of hands running through your auburn hair and you smiled softly as you woke up. “Mornin’ Pete…” You muttered into his chest before you felt his hands wrap around your waist tighter making you realize it wasn’t his hand in your hair, rather the soft hands that belonged to your magic wielding mother. You froze slowly looking up to look into the green eyes of the witch.

“Hi mom…” You said quietly before your heard a cough and your head whipped around to face your assassin of a mother. “Mama! Hey!” You said quickly whipping up out of Peters arms. “You’re home from the mission early!”

“Yeah. We finished early so figured we would take our darling daughter out for a special breakfast.” Wanda said with a smirk, her Sokovian accent out on full display, showing her strong emotions.

“Instead, we found her, shirtless, laying on top of her best friend on the couch with hickeys on her neck.” Natasha finished, her classic hard glare out, an eyebrow raised, her arms crossed against her chest. “Parker. Pepper and Tony are waiting in the lab.” She said swiftly making the boy jump up and run off.

“Mama i can explain!” You said raising your hands before her hard glance shot to you You instantly curled up in on yourself biting your lip.

Wanda sat beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, her thumb rubbing against your arm. “We aren’t mad Detka.” She murmured softly, Nat sat on your other side. “I promise we aren’t. Just confused. You don’t hide things from us so we’re just confused.”

“I didn’t mean-“ You got cut off from a small cough from your mom. “I was worried you wouldn’t be okay with us dating…”

“Why wouldn’t we moya lyubov’? We’ve known Peter forever. We know he’ll treat you right.” Natasha said rubbing your back. She looked up at Wanda shocked when they heard a small sniffle. “Baby. My love. What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you!” You broke down sobbing into your hands. “I’m sorry I kept a secret! Please don’t hate me!” Wanda choked on a breath and pulled you so you were curled up on her lap, Natasha squatted in front of you.

“Baby. No one is mad! We aren’t mad at you! Detka we could never hate you!” Natasha said, cupping your cheeks, rubbing a thumb over your cheek, wiping the tears.

“You are our miracle y/n. We could NEVER hate you. Especially not over something this small!” Wanda said smothering your head in kisses.

“P-promise?” You sniffled looking at both your moms with wide eyes. They both instantly smothered you in kisses repeating yes over and over again

After a few minutes of everyone calming down, yky were cuddled up between the two of them on the couch, your head resting on Natasha’s chest, Wanda rubbing your legs. “So… is he good to you?” Natasha asked raising her eyebrow.

“Mama!” You groaned burying your head into her neck more. “Yes… he’s amazing… he’s so nice and sweet and always ALWAYS puts me first. I think i love him… mom how do you know when you’re in love? How did you know you were in love with mama?”

“Love is a weird thing malyshka.” Wanda said rubbing your calves. “Your mama and I were really close as friends. She helped me when i got out of Hydra. We realized our feelings after one of Tony’s parties and she was helping me calm down after a panic attack. I realized that she had been the best thing to happen to me and that I felt butterflies in my stomach when she held my hand or gave me a hug. I started imagining our future together and told her and she said she felt the same. Love can be scary but it’s the best thing in the world.”

“I think i love him mama…” You muttered before looking up at your two moms with a smile that would always brighten their lives. “But, i love my moms more. I have the best moms in the multiverse.”

#my first ask! #i love this idea #writing this now #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #elizabeth olsen #mcu imagine #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #wandanat #wandanat x daughter!reader #wanda imagine #natasha romonova #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff fluff #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff

[manidk1273]

🎀 — Prodigy

You were the result of a one night stand, your mother tried to "baby-trap" Tony but of course that didn't work. Though, by law— (and since your mother was unstable) you were under the custody of your father, Tony Stark. As the years pass.. he notices a lot about you.

You were the only (known) child of Tony Stark by far. Being only 2 weeks old when the mess happened, you didn't even have a name— You were only given one once your father, Tony Stark won the case. He chose a wonderful name for you.

You couldn't be more grateful. Sure, you were unplanned and it was a little bit messy but he loves you so much. He calls you his greatest creation. You didn't disappoint too. Of course the Stark's were known as geniuses. And you weren't excluded.. in fact, you progressed so much faster than any of your predecessors that scientists wanted to study you at the age of 7 months old. Of course, as your legal guardian and awesome father, Tony immediately turned down the offer.

At age 2, you could already properly read and write. With perfect grammar, you could write long informative text— even stories.

At age 4, you already were learning the fundamentals of mathematics. Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication, Division. And since your father didn't want you to go to public or private schools (too many risks.) he hired personal tutors for you. You already were progressing faster than anyone he ever saw before, and he was so proud.

At age 5, You already could understand the simpler inventions your father made. And it was better since he would explain it step-by-step to you. And this was your favourite time of the day, not only because you get to learn but also because you get to spend time with your dad.

At age 6— your IQ was just.. off the charts. You were devouring knowledge, information like it was your favourite food! And as the caring, loving father Tony is, he happily provided you the things you need (including his love and care.).

You were the youngest of many things. You were already marked as a genius at age 2. Not only did he find out you were a genius an interesting characteristic of yours is that you NEVER, ever forget. You even remembered everything that happened when you were 2 weeks old. You remember the exact date, location and time.. it was insane.

At age 7, you were already competing with competitors 5 times your age. And surprisingly, you won every competition you were in. But of course, you're humble. (Pepper teaches you to always be humble.)

You never ceased to stop learning. It was your hobby, it was fun for you. Everything you read was always imprinted in your mind instantly.

Tony is just.. the definition of proud whenever you do something. Whether it be winning a simple chess match, quiz bee.. trivia, whatever. In fact, he has two whole rooms dedicated to you. With your certificates, trophies, medals. He's just so proud.

As he says,

“ You're my pride and joy, kid. ”

That's currently my first ever try writing in Tumblr, I don't usually write much anymore but I used to be a writer in Wattpad and AO3 😅

I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes I did, please point it out so I can fix them! Much appreciated.

Thank you so much if you reached the end, good day to you<3

#tony stark #iron man #iron dad #tony stark x son!reader #proud parent #first post #tony stark x daughter!reader #no use of y/n #no pronouns #:) #<3 #Velvqtte🎀

[mrvlxgrl]

Chris Evans x daughter!reader

A/N:So yeah this would be my first fic. I know this not the best,but hey i finnaly did it! Sorry for the mistakes english is not my first language.

Warnings: -

Frist Word

Gif is not mine!

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It was like any normal day with Chris and the little y/n. Y/n at 4 a.m. screamed till her daddy came to her room and feed her. After they were cuddling and then fall asleep in Chris room. Then he had breakfast give y/n a little baby food.

...

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In the afternoon Chris was sitting on the couch watching TV while his daughter was playing with her blocks, when his phone rang it was his mom they were talking for a few minutes. Y/n noticed that her daddy wasn't paying attention to her while she was babbling. So she took a big breath and screamed:DADA! Chris was in shock for one minute, then he put his phone down and rushed to her.

"Yes baby i'm your dada!" "Say it again."

She babbled something and then she said it again"D-dada!" Chris was so happy that his baby said her first word.

y/n giggled happily that her father was playing attention to her. ...and that's how yn said her first word.

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Requests are open as always and if you can like it pls!❤️❤️

#mrvlxgrl #chrisevansdaughter #chris evans daughter #dad! chris evans #chris evans x daughter!reader #my first fic