#This is so late and I feel so bad about it but!! It's because I really wanted to show my appreciation on the last day!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not complaining about my sex/love life?

A bit nsfw. I'll try to keep it vague.

So I (31FTM) came out and transitioned about 5 years ago. My husband (34, cis M) and I were married beforehand. He was extremely relieved, as he had realized he was gay and didn't know how to tell me. It's like a fairy tale if Disney thought we were marketable 💜 just a bit of context to what happened next.

I have a group of friends, straight cis women my age, who knew me pretransition. They were relatively supportive, minus a few confused questions and a couple of comments early on about how hard it was to remember my name.

I was out to brunch with 3 of them (K, S, L, all early 30s/late 20s). L is engaged, S recently got serious with a guy, and K is perpetually single.

We were all chatting and eventually got on the topic of romance. S was complaining that her boyfriend never did the dishes. L laughed and said she had to essentially train her fiance to do certain household chores. K piped up with some sort of "men are the worst" comment, which I just sort of ignored, until she turned to me and said "So what gets on your nerves about YOUR husband, OP?"

I shrugged and said that sometimes he leaves his socks on the floor, but that's about it. K rolled her eyes and said there had to be SOMETHING that pissed me off about him, like "he's bad in bed or doesn't listen to you." I snapped a little and told her that no, actually, I don't care what you say about your partners but mine is actually really great, and I love him. He's great in bed, he's very caring and passionate, he listens to me all the time, and I won't be convinced to shittalk him.

It got quiet and I just decided to leave cash for my part of the bill and leave. I went home to snuggle into my husband's arms on the couch and tell him what happened. He just laughed and said I could shittalk him if I wanted. I don't think he really got why I was so upset.

That afternoon, K texted me and said I really embarrassed her in front of everyone and wanted me to apologize for what I said. I refused and told her that I wasn't gonna apologize because she assumed I didn't like my husband and I corrected her. She called me a bitch and went radio silent. I texted S and L and asked them if they were okay, no response yet.

My husband thinks I should just apologize, but I don't want to say sorry for refusing to talk badly about someone who supported me during one of the hardest times of my life, even if he'd be fine with it. It just makes me feel wrong.

AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

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#aries answers #anon <3 #request #blurb #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fluff #formula one fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you

[ms-demeanor]

While I was out of town my boss pretty clearly got in a fight with one of my coworkers about overtime and billable hours and that has led to him being a petty little pissbaby about "complying with california law" by having us fill out time sheets because boss was utterly incapable of finding the middle ground between "you must track every second of your time in order to be paid for it" and "the technicians who make $60k a year are salaried and therefore are not entitled to overtime."

"Salaried employees can be non-exempt and therefore earn overtime if working for more than 8 hours a day but also are in a position where they can be trusted to take a few extra minutes at lunch or may stay after closing time occasionally without requiring overtime" doesn't seem like a very fine needle to thread but he is absolutely incapable of threading it.

For *years and years* now he has used himself as an example of the right way to be "on time." He's told us about going to his job as a kid and getting there five minutes early every day just to prove to his boss that he really wanted the work.

Anyway, I just got a lecture on how I'm not supposed to clock in even a minute before my start time, nor am I to cut my lunch short, nor am I to stay late to finish things up; he wants me in here for eight hours a day *exactly* and is now so hell-bent on micromanaging everyone's start and end times that he was late to a client meeting earlier because he was looking over time sheets.

Sir, you have played stupid games and you have won stupid prizes. You should have just paid the techs their fucking overtime.

He's being so petulant about this and it's so fucking funny. None of us feel bad for you bro. You are wage theft georg and the spiders have come home to roost. It is very much worth the potential few dollars of time I'll lose each week to see you tie yourself up in knots about whether I stayed two minutes late on wednesday to answer a customer's question.

[wileys-russo]

hi! laura freigang, 'can i use a picture of you as my phone's background?', locker room please?

lockscreen II l.freigang

you woke up to a flash in your face, ducking your head beneath the covers with a groan. "go away lau!" you moaned kicking out at your best friend who only grinned, tugging the covers away from you.

"it was for the collection!" laura explained as if that was completely normal as you tiredly glared up at her. "get out of my room, its not even eight yet!" you realised with a groan, shoving her a little harder than intended as she went rolling backwards off the bed.

you sat up with a start, covering your grin with your hand as the blonde moaned clutching her head which had collided with the carpet.

"sorry?" you tried with an innocent smile as she sat up and fixed you with a venomous glare. "idiot!" she huffed unappreciative of your efforts. "in my defense i have warned you before about not waking me before nine unless its an emergency." you reminded with a shrug.

"i was waking you because i made breakfast but now i think i will go give it to that cranky lady next door, she would be more appreciative!" the blonde grumbled standing to her feet with a shake of her head, stretching out her back.

"no no, no need! thank you." you shot up from bed, kissing her cheek in thanks before racing off toward the kitchen too fast to see the way the girls face burned beetroot red at the tiny gesture of affection.

laura had been pining over you for months now, and it was painful that it was obvious to absolutely everyone but you, even her teammates teasings only causing you to roll your eyes and dismiss them with a wave when they joked you were secretly dating.

laura could only wish to be so lucky, and only wish you'd finally see that all the little things she did for you was because she was crushing on you hard.

ever since you'd moved to the club the girl felt her knees wobble a little when you were introduced to the team, the first to put her hand up to show you around and within a couple of weeks the two of you were thick as thieves and laura had offered you her spare room while you hunted for a place of your own.

it was an offer which beat the pull out sofa you were currently sleeping on in an old school friends one bedroom loft who'd moved to germany for university and just never come back.

you'd be lying if you said without laura you'd have lost your mind and probably quit to move back home. she helped you set up everything, get better at the language, offered friendship and a comfortable bed beneath your back, cooked everyday for you and showed you around new places each weekend between matches.

you hadn't realized it just yet but you were also crushing hard on the blonde, only you'd grown up with four older brothers and attributed nearly every strong feeling you had toward a woman as just a longing for friendship.

it was idiotic how blind you were really.

"so." you looked up from your spot at your cubby, training finished for the day as you were icing your ankle you'd rolled, most of the team having already left for the day laura was kindly waiting around until the physio came back to check you over, currently in a meeting.

"as you know i've been making my phone look nicer." laura started as you chuckled, amused by her sudden interest in aesthetics which was spurred on by a late night tiktok doom scroll as you lay together 'hanging out' in complete silence in her room the other night.

"i found a lockscreen-" she turned to show you a photo she'd taken at the markets on one of her film cameras, smiling at the familiar setting. "-but, can i use a photo of you as my phone background?" she asked hopefully as you groaned.

"what!" she huffed, a little offended by your reaction. "not if its one of those awful pictures you always take of me sleeping, or eating, or at that gross zoomed out angle but super close and-" you started to protest making her frown switch to a grin.

"no schatz, not a bad photo." she patted your knee reassuringly, sliding closer to you as your head fell to her shoulder, missing the way she tensed up a little, clearing her throat.

"i have nice ones. i will even let you choose!" laura promised as you hummed and she clicked into her camera roll, selecting an album with a little sun emoji.

"see? look these are all candid ones of you. at the farmers market, out at dinner, cooking at home, when we went to ikea, when we went to the night festival, getting coffee-" as she scrolled slowly through, something suddenly clicked in your mind.

in nearly all of these you and laura had been hanging out, but always just the two of you. you took turns paying for things, you were always laughing, she was always surprising you with little adventures or taking you to new places and forcing you out of your comfort zone.

but it was always just with laura, and then it clicked for you, it was laura, you loved laura.

the girl was too busy recounting the story behind one of the hundreds of photos in the album with a soft smile on her face to notice you pull your head away to look at her, finally seeing the slight blush on her cheeks and not missing the twinkle in her eye.

so maybe, just maybe, laura loved you too.

"lau." you interrupted, cutting her off mid sentence as she looked up and caught your eye, blush intensifying as she did. "was i rambling? oh god i was rambling wasn't i? i told you when that happens to snap me out of it or tell me to shut up or-" she started again making you smile.

"lau?" "yeah?" "shut up." you grinned as she did too, tips of her ears flushed pink which you found quite cute, suddenly now noticing a lot of little features you'd taken for granted.

"do you trust me?" you asked softly and the blonde nodded without a moments hesitation, but in her most wild of dreams she'd never expected what came next as your hand moved to settle on the back of her neck and you leaned in until you were barely a hairsbreadth away.

"is this okay?" you whispered, checking one last time as all the german could do was nod, dumbfounded and unsure if this was actually happening until you leaned in just that tiny bit further and pressed your lips to hers.

this was really happening, and as laura dropped her phone into her lap, tugging you even closer and kissing you back like you were her last breath of air, you realised that yeah, your laura did love you back, and this was the start of a brand new adventure together.

#woso community #woso #laura freigang x reader #laura freigang #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I had an idea for a request! I was thinking about reader with a really low sex drive and maybe one day she starts to get a little worried and insecure about it and one of the boys just reassures her that he doesn’t care about it<3 idk if that made sense but write for whatever boy you want to I don’t have a preference love you 😚

How Remus, James and Sirius would comfort you when you worry your low libido is a problem. fem, 2.2k

❥ Remus 

Remus sits with his legs crossed in the corner of the settee, a book open on his thigh, though his attention has been caught and kept by the TV. 

You think some grovelling may be in order after last night. Quiet, you round the settee and climb onto the seat next to his, body turned away from the TV, arm creeping onto his thigh. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi.” 

He encourages you closer, leaning back to give you room to lie on him. His right arm does most of the work to keep you up, sandwiching you to his chest, an almost not quite hug. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“How do you know something is wrong?” 

He taps your back with his fingers, looking up at the ceiling with a sarcastic smile. “What could it be?” 

The hints of green in his irises are more pronounced when he’s sitting in the sun like this, rays cutting in through the window, turning his pale skin slightly tanned and his hair a warmer chestnut colour that curls behind his ears. The scar on his lip relaxes as his joking smile fades to a proper one, a lovey-dovey type that melts you. It’s nice to be looked at so nicely, like just the sight of you inspires happiness. 

You shift off of your legs, deciding you might as well lay flat with your head in his lap instead. He lets you sink down. His hand takes up station near your cheek, the back of his curled fingers brushing the skin just shy of your eye. 

“This is nice,” he whispers. 

“I have to say sorry,” you whisper back, drawing shapes into his t-shirt, the soft muscle of his stomach pillowy to poke. 

Remus nods emphatically. “Yes, you didn’t come and see me as soon as you woke up. I heard you on your phone in bed. That’s not very nice, is it, depriving me of your company?” 

You shake your head into his thigh, a slow, guilty movement. “No, about last night.” 

“What about last night?” 

Last night, Remus had given you a very slow kiss. He’d been half asleep and you’d been more so, but it was a lovely kiss and his hand had been rubbing sweet half circles into your hip, but it still made you feel awful when he asked if he could touch you and you’d told him you were too tired, even if he didn’t mind. He’d just kissed your cheek and snuggled into you like a life-sized teddy bear. He never takes your rejection as an insult. 

“You… you wanted to fuck and I didn’t, I’m sorry. I feel like every time you ask lately I say no.” 

Remus frowns at you. Deep frown, eyebrows pinching and brown eyes bordering sullen. His fingers uncurl over your cheek and cover your ear as he cups your face. “I don’t want you to be sorry. The reason I ask is so you can say no, you can always say no.” 

“I kiss you, and I wind you up, and then I can’t–”

“Which I enjoy. You don’t have to worry about that.” He leans down to kiss you but doesn’t fully get there, your noses touching, and then he’s leaning away again. “Please don’t say sorry. You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“I know that. I’m not trying to make you into the bad guy.” 

Remus taps your nose with his and leans in again. “I know you’re not. You aren’t one either. Sex is just another fun thing to do, okay? If you don’t want to, that shouldn’t bother me, and it doesn’t. I promise.” 

You curl your arms around his neck. He lifts his head, subsequently lifting you as he moves, his arm curling behind your back for a hug. 

“Sometimes I want more of you than you want to give,” he says, “but it’s just because I love you, not because I need it. Don’t be silly, dove. Don’t say sorry.” 

He presses the heel of his palm to your back and begins the heavy pressure of a back rub. You won’t say sorry if he doesn’t want you to. You shouldn’t anyways. But he’s your boyfriend and you love him, so his being accepting of it is a relief. 

Like he can read your mind, he says, “You never have to say sorry for this.” 

“I know.” You lift your chin. “Kiss?” 

Remus kisses you quickly before tucking you into his neck for a long hug. 

❥ James

“You’re beautiful.” 

You’re boiling. James doesn’t notice, kissing and kissing and kissing, your neck flushed with his touch and his murmured compliment. “James.” 

He tilts his head, weaving in on the other side of your neck to give it the same loving treatment. “Pretty doesn’t cover it,” he says in a rush, his teeth scratching dully up to your jaw, his kissing like nips without any pain behind them as he reaches your cheek. 

You catch his face in your hands and push him away gently. It’s so hot in here you can’t breathe, and you’re not in the mood for any further action. It’s funny. You adore his kisses and James is undeniably a good fuck, but your libido is low no matter how pretty your boyfriend is, or how pretty he finds you. You’d always wondered if that meant there was something wrong with you. 

James doesn’t seem to think so. 

“Sorry,” he says, beaming, “that’s enough, right?” 

You feel a weird sharp stab in your chest. “Sorry?” 

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” James sits up where he’d been lying on top of you, having manoeuvred such a position in the midst of all his warm kisses. He sits back on his calves, kneeling in the space between your legs, a hand falling instead to your knee. “It’s fucking hot in here, isn’t it?” 

“Sorry.” 

“Did you make it hot?” 

You look at your hand on your chest. He’s noticed you don’t want to take it any further, you hardly ever do. You knew he’d see that eventually. You have the libido of a panda, where James is an athletic young man who loves you. 

“No, I mean. I’m sorry, because I never want to when you want to.” 

Your serious tone surprises him. “Baby, what the fuck are you talking about?” he asks. “I am so lost.” 

“Just– Most of the time when you try to sleep with me I turn you down. You know already.” 

“Baby, that doesn’t matter.” He leans in again, only to hold your wrists, two big hands curled around your arms to stop your fidgeting. Two pet names in quick succession is unlike him, and it relaxes you before he’s begun to explain. “It doesn’t matter at all. Just makes it better when we do manage to want it at the same time.” 

You grimace. “Are you sure?” 

“You want me to be honest?” 

You’re not sure. “Yeah. Please be honest.” 

“Sometimes we kiss and you know I want you,” his eyes dart down, prompting a surprised laugh from you, and an easy chuckle from him in return, “and it’s frustrating, but it’s not ‘cos of you. I can go shower and sort myself out and it’s not the same as being with you, but it’s not your fault. It’s just a reaction.” 

“But I feel bad for making you deal with it yourself.” 

“What are you supposed to do? You can’t force yourself if you’re not in the mood. That’s the last thing I want you to do. I’d rather have it fall off.” 

You laugh again. James’ smile is glowing, and warm as he presses it to your wrist in a chaste kiss. “We can do other things. If you feel that badly about it, you can give me a scalp massage, please. You shouldn’t feel badly about it, but still. If you’re okay with it, I’d love one.” 

He presses his cheek to your chest in want of your hand. 

You press your fingertips to his hairline and weave your fingers into the roots of his soft hair, shaking them, nails scratching lightly at his scalp like you know he likes. “How’s that?” you ask. 

“Better than sex.” He is unmistakably sincere. 

❥ Sirius 

“Did you lock the door?” 

Sirius hums. 

“Close the kitchen window?” 

“I did,” he says, waving your hand gently where he’s holding it between you both. You lay straight in bed with the duvet up to your chests and the TV playing one of his favourite movies. 

“Okay. Did you take your medication?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart. Everything’s done. You can relax.” 

You pick your book up and open it to the first page. You’ve been meaning to read this one for a while, you’re happy to get the time, but you’re feeling queasy about something. 

Sirius is a loud guy. He loves the glitz and glamour of life, he likes to go out, play fast and hard, he’s electric most of the time. He can be quiet, too, like you tend to be, but you’re worried that you’re another night closer to him deciding he’s bored. It’s been weeks since you went anywhere, and you haven’t fucked in almost as long. 

“Can I have this?” he asks, pulling your hand to his lips. 

You smile as he kisses your knuckles, barely there presses of his lips to your skin that linger. 

“You haven’t turned a page yet.” 

“It’s hard to start,” you tell him. 

“What’s it about? Fantasy?” 

“No, just a romance, I think.” 

“I like your romances. You read the complicated ones with the good love, like ours.” 

It’s a very nice thing to say, even if you’re not sure how he knows what romance you’re reading. He enjoys listening to you talk about books when they’re done, so perhaps the details have sunk in.

You let the book flop to the side and curl up around your joined hands. “I love you,” you say. 

He curls into you in return, “You should. That was a good line,” he says teasingly. “I love you too, my girl.” He speaks it with a quiet, gentle cadence that suits him and the pet name well. “Lift your head. Wanna see you.” 

You angle your face up to give him a view of the half that isn’t hidden by the sheets. “I’m so boring.” 

“Says who?” 

“Everybody, probably. All we do is watch TV and sleep.” 

“Good thing I love both of those things.” He wraps an arm around you, palm to your shoulder. “And it’s not true. We went to the cafe yesterday after work. On the weekend, we’re going to the cinema. Why, do you want to do more?” 

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Siri. Aren’t you bored?” 

He stares at you. Long, non-judgmental looking, his dark lashes kissing in the corners as his gaze wanders down to your neck. “Is this about something else?” 

“No.” 

His mouth turns sympathetic, a wobbly frown. “Are you sure, lovely? You can talk to me.” 

You weigh each word as you say it, determined not to embarrass yourself, “I’m worried that I don’t make your life very interesting. We don’t go out much, we don’t drink, and I never…” 

You turn your face down, your forehead to his chest. Sirius hums unhappily and encourages your head back to see you again almost immediately. “You never what?” he asks. 

“Never mind.” 

“No, please. Tell me, Y/N. You can tell me anything, I won’t care.” He’s getting so serious about it and it’s making it even more embarrassing than before, but you don’t want him to worry. You spit it out. 

“I don’t put out. We hardly ever have sex.” 

“Does that upset you?” he asks. 

“Well. It upsets me if it upsets you.” 

“It doesn’t.” His hand cups your cheek, his forehead drops down to yours. “It doesn’t upset me. Did I make you think that?” 

“You’re just so cool and I’m your loser.”

He laughs happily. “You’re my loser,” he agrees. 

“The last couple of times I’ve said no. I guess I just worry you want more than I’m giving out, so. I don’t want you to wish we were having more sex, but I can’t make myself want it more.” 

“I see.” 

You listen to him breathing, the warmth of his exhale like a kiss all its own as it fans over your mouth.

He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “Can I tell you what I think?” You nod, and he continues, “I only want to have sex with you, that’s one of the consequences of being in love. It’s a good one. So if you don’t wanna have sex, it’s safe to say I don’t want to either. Okay? Love you just as much with or without it.” 

Unlike him and not to be this tender. You bite the inside of your lip.

“Promise?” you ask. 

“I promise.” 

#the marauders #marauders #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction #james potter fanfiction #remus lupin fic #sirius black fic #james potter fic #the marauders x reader #the marauders x fem!reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♥︎ Pairing: boyfriend!jisung x chubby!fem!reader

♥︎ A/N: If you're a chubby/thick/plus sized babe feeling not so great about yourself and you happen to love our sweet Hannie, I hope you find some comfort in this.

boyfriend!jisung who fell for you the moment he saw you but took forever to work up the nerve to ask you out on a date because he was afraid you'd say no.

boyfriend!jisung who's an introvert that doesn't like to go out a lot but went out every weekend for a whole month just for the chance to hang out with you.

boyfriend!jisung who spontaneously confessed his feelings for you one night and turned the cutest shade of red when he found out you felt the same.

boyfriend!jisung who's hangs on every word you say so when it was time to plan your first date he knew how to make it perfect for you.

boyfriend!jisung whose friends adored you before they even met you because this man couldn't stop running his mouth to them about how amazing you were. They've literally never seen him so head over heels.

boyfriend!jisung who had you stay over his place so he could make you breakfast the next morning accompanied by flowers and a little card he handmade asking you to be his girlfriend.

boyfriend!jisung who doesn't get it at first when you say people won't believe that someone like him wants someone like you.

boyfriend!jisung who took the time to understand your feelings, reassuring you as much as you needed that it didn't matter what anyone else thought. You're the most beautiful woman in the world to him. How could he not want you?

boyfriend!jisung who praises your body every chance he gets. When you take him shopping with you he can't resist telling you how nicely that sundress suits your figure or how cute those pants make your butt look.

boyfriend!jisung who always has to sneak in a few extra minutes with you in bed in the morning so that he can cuddle and squeeze your soft body. You're the reason he's late all the time but it's worth it.

boyfriend!jisung who never makes you feel like you need to be ashamed of your squishy belly, rolls, or chin. If he catches you sulking he'll kiss every part of you until it feels loved.

boyfriend!jisung who's known for being funny but will turn into an absolute demon if anyone ever fucks with you or makes you feel bad.

boyfriend!jisung who checks in with you throughout the day to make sure that you've eaten. On your bad body image days especially he'll either cook or buy you your favorite foods to avoid you skipping meals.

boyfriend!jisung whose camera roll is filled with pictures of you two together along with a bunch of secret ones he's taken when you weren't looking. Some are from angles you'd feel make you look bigger but he's smitten with every picture of you. You'll have to fight him to delete them.

boyfriend!jisung who always lets everyone know that the two of you are together. There's never a question of how proud he is to tell the world you're his.

boyfriend!jisung who'll stop everything to be with you when things get really bad. You can cry in his arms for hours if you want. He'll always be there to comfort you.

boyfriend!jisung who lets himself be vulnerable, opening up to you about his own insecurities because he knows you'll be there to comfort him too. Of course you are.

boyfriend!jisung who may drool over how pretty you are but never takes for granted how kind, funny, creative, and intelligent you are on top of that.

boyfriend!jisung who loves you because, well, you're you.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids x chubby reader #stray kids headcanons #han jisung x reader #han jisung x female reader #han jisung x you #stray kids fluff #han jisung fluff #chubby reader #plus size reader #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x you

[jazzyoranges]

Late nights - drabble

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: sorry anon, i accidentally deleted the request 😓 but they asked for me to write a fic with tara in fem!reader’s hoodie (aka cuddly tara strikes again)

Words: 0.9k

A/n: hopefully a lil something to get me out of my writing slump. let’s hope this isn’t too bad considering i haven’t written in a few months 😅

You really didn’t mean to be out for so long

First your boss asks you to do one favor, then another, and next thing you know you’re at work for 4 hours more than you’re supposed to be. The asshole didn’t even pay you for all the extra shit you did! You made a mental note to go job hunting this week.

Maybe the gay club was looking for a stripper? Nah. Your girlfriend would get jealous

So you were angry. Angry about your paycheck

Next a few storm clouds roll up that night. Of course you forget to bring your rain jacket that day. Not to mention, rain feels like hail stones when you’re on your motorcycle. Apparently it’d be a cold day in hell before you dressed right for the weather

So along with being angry, you were cold and wet. Shitty might’ve been the lightest way you could’ve described your day

At least you could come home to your wonderful girlfriend in an apartment of your own. It took lots of convincing and hundreds of game nights to convince Sam to even accept the idea of you and Tara being alone together. Fortunately you were blessed with patience and homosexuality — two things that could withstand Sam’s will to protect her sister

Was the older Carpenter’s place on the floor right above you and Tara’s?

…

Yes. Yes it was.

But if it made your girlfriend and her sister happy, you had no reason to not be as well. Other than the elevator that never fucking worked but that was out of their hands

Your shirt and hair were absolutely soaked in rainwater by the time you reached your apartment door. The was a small trail of water behind you from where you walked but that might’ve been the least of your concerns. Fishing around in your damp pants for your keys, you fortunately find them without much effort

Opening the door with as little energy you can, you lock the door behind you and triple check you locked it just like Sam told you

Not wasting any time you slide off your wet shirt in the middle of your living room, throwing it on a chair and missing the younger Carpenter waiting on the couch for you half asleep

“Baby?” Tara rubs her eyes. You stand in the middle of your hallway like a deer in headlights. You were awfully vulnerable while wet and almost naked. Who knew.

Before you can respond, there’s shuffling behind you then something weighted and warm on your back. Tara’s leaning into you with her arms around your torso while you’re wet and almost naked in the middle of your hallway. What a sight.

“Why were you so late? You’re working tonight…” Your girlfriend’s hand dips a bit below your waistband and you have to resist the urge to shiver. From the cold? From Tara? Only god knew

“My boss had me do extra shit. I’ll find a different job that doesn’t have me out so late” You turn around to face Tara while her arms were still around you “I promise”

The younger Carpenter only hums into your chest without any sign of moving. So you don’t. It gives you the chance to really soak in the moment along with the rainwater on your skin. You only pull away when your girlfriend also starts to shiver

Of course she’s wearing nothing but a hoodie

Specifically, Tara’s wearing nothing but your hoodie

“How long have you been fighting sleep? Go to bed, love” You pick up your girlfriend with her legs wrapped around your waist and her arms loosely thrown around your neck

“Since you decided you hated me” Tara mumbles into your shoulder

“When was that?”

“When you didn’t come home on time”

“And I gave you a reason why I was late”

“Which doesn’t excuse you, because you could’ve hurried up” Tara plays with your bra strap as you stop walking toward your shared bedroom

“What I’m hearing is, you don’t want to take a late night shower with me? Even after a long day of work, where you could help me de-stress?” You say with a certain smugness in your voice

Your girlfriend whips her head up at your offer but you’ve already made it to your shared bed, not wasting a second to plop her down

“Waitbabypleaseididn’tmeanit-“ You’re already in the bathroom as Tara’s trying to scramble to you

“What? Sorry, love! Can’t hear you over the shower”

You had a childhood cat that always followed you around when you were younger. Tara reminded you of when your cat would scratch at the door whenever you went to the bathroom. Your girlfriend even had the scratching down just like your cat

When you were about to hop in the bath for a quick shower, something stops you from getting in. The imagery alone that Tara is probably leaning against the door waiting for you to get out is enough to pull at your heartstrings

You weren’t mean. You missed Tara as much as she missed you. It’s why she always wore your hoodies and you always took her shirts that fit you

So against your better judgment and the water bill you’re going to have to take Advil for, you unlock the bathroom door but you don’t open it

You’re both in the shower and you’re in Tara less than a second later

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #scream #scream 6 #tara carpenter scream #sam carpenter

[romanticintheory]

Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod mw x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #cod angst #call of duty angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #cod hurt/comfort #simon riley hurt/comfort #cod fluff #call of duty fluff #rarawrites

[tra1nchi]

UHMMM i'm having some incestuous THOUGHTS

what about a 19 yo guy who's like nerdy and shy and introverted who hasn't ever kissed anyone and gets anxious about never being kissed or having kissed someone cuz now he's in college and he's embarrassed to be 19 and never kissed anyone, so he turns to his older brother (probably in his late-20s) and asks him to teach him how to kiss!!! his brother is more extroverted, but like protective of his lil bro

MINORS DNI!! bttm nerd male reader,,older metal head brother!! Inc3st,,brother gets carried away >□<

You always looked up to your older brother,, he was so cool!! He never cared about what your strict parents thought,,rather staying in the basement all day and playing his drums!!

Your mother always told you to ignore him,,focus on your studies and get good grades!! You don't wanna be a failure like him do you?? Feeling so under pressure by your parents that you have barely any friends!!

Even when you went away for college your mother still texted you to make sure you were studying!! She was so strict with you because your damned brother was still playing drums in his parents home even as he was pushing thirty!!

Coming home for the holidays!! Not very excited to see your parents but you couldn't wait to see your brother!! Maybe you could finally have a relaxing time at home!! Which you didn't get >□<

Your parents forced you to study even as they enjoyed the sunny day outside!! Your brother felt so bad for you since you were all cooped up in your room,,leaving the basement to go all the way up into your room,,

He was always the exact opposite of you,,going out to parties and making out as much as he could while you stayed in your room!! He had never even heard of you having a significant other,,

"Still haven't kissed anyone, I see" His voice was amused as his hands rested tightly on your shoulders,, A coo left his lips as you slowly nodded in embarrassment!!

Sitting you down gently on his lap as he tilted your chin up,, stroking your cute, shy little face!! "Want big bro to show you how it's done?" He leans upwards to press his lips passionately against yours,,like he was finally releasing something he had held back!!

Taking the opportunity that your parents were outside to shove you down onto your bed,, feeling himself grow hard from the sound of your surprised whimper,,"Come on baby bro, might as well show you how to fuck too" You could hear the knowing smirk in his voice!!

#{bttm male reader} #bottom male reader #sub male reader #x sub male reader #x bottom male reader #{anon asks} #{h4rny ask}

[youronlydarlin]

I know this is like short notice and you basically just posted the loser!simon Drabble but omg I need more. I’ve so far never seen a fic that lets Simon relax while you ride him or something. I’ve seen similar, but if you wouldn’t mind could you make a fic following Simon being super tired, and when he gets home you were a horny mess and then you make him a horny mess but he doesn’t have the energy to jerk it so you help him out. Fem reader please!! I really want him to use the rest of his energy to like play with your tits and then lay down.

Also you’re the only person I tolerate for the !! For smutty stuff. Usually it makes me cringe because it feels so childish. But you do it in a hot way. I think. Idk. I like the energy you put in ur writing if ykwim

warnings: fem! afab! reader, kinda subby Simon??, bro's down bad for you and thinks you're a goddess, relaxed Si :)

Wjahskshsjjs jus' somewhat lazy sex with the good ol' big british man. He's sure comes home tired and late. He has been for the past few days. It hadn't really affect you in a way that disrupted your everyday routine. But lately there's been a craving, an issue brought by your brain to your heart that lately it's been feeling... neglected. It starts as a distant feeling, an untouched part of your body that longs to be noticed. It's like chaising after a mysterious high while blinded, no sense of direction, and no chance of ever finding it. Leaving you feeling lonely and trapped, cold and empty. So, to put it simply. You're pent up. All hot and bothered and way too eager to slip your hands in your pants. Lucky for you though, your night won't end with just self satisfaction, because barging in through the door is your saviour, all tired eyes and gruff groans. Fuck. It's like you've pavlov'd yourself into getting incredibly horny at just the sight of your Si.

He on the other hand, feels like shit. Being away from you is more than enough torture, but having you pounce on him the moment he enters through the door is another new story on itself. He's neglected his baby :( his pretty girl. All quiet whimpers when you kiss him all over the neck "missed you s' much Si". Shit, he's already half chubbing in his pants at just hearing your tone. It's not long before he goes cum brained as well. Thinking with the wrong head and dry humping you in the hallway. You're squealin' n moanin' and oh shit he's going to cum. he's going to cum. he's going to cum. he's going to– You pull away. Now if it was any other day he would've shot you a glare. Maybe even disappointedly shaking his head. "Careful, love, you're playin' with fire.." he would've said, but right now he's red in the face, sweaty and desperate. Rolling his hips into nothing, hoping to get it to rub into you. Simon looks weak and he knows, slightly enjoys the power imbalance between you two because now you've grabbed him by the collar like a dog and dragged him towards the couch.

On his lap not a second later and you two are back to humping at each other through your clothes. He's tired. Limbs so heavy, bones weighed down with fatigue and he feels like he's already dreaming. You're like a wet dream that's come to life. There's just something about the way you look at him that makes it impossible to lay his eyes on anything else. Like a goddess on a thrown. That's how he sees you. Mighty and malevolent, feeling so small in your gaze but drinking it all in like a man parched, nothing can bring you down. Despite this– the tiredness of his bones– he wills his arms to move. To help you take off your top. It's intimate and it has his breath catching in his throat. He's seen you shirtless countless times before, but the thrill, the electrifying sparks it sends up his spine, it always feels new. Panting like a mutt he hasn't even noticed that he's already been let out of his pants, too busy admiring your chest. Reaching his hand out to toy with the soft peak, letting out an accidental whimper at the sudden contact of your hands with his hard cock. You shush him, remind him to relax, you can handle this, you promise with a kiss to the tip of his nose. And just like that he's sinking into the couch. Eyes closed in bliss and a handful of your mounds in his hands.

Heaven on earth. Blooming flowers in the harsh winter. Rain after months of drought. This is peace. This is pleasure. Simon's convinced that there's no earthly power greater than your hands, or your soft kisses. The gentle timbres of your voice. The way your pussy feels so hot and welcoming. So occupied and drunk off of your divinity that he hasn't had the time to prepare himself for your hot walls enveloping all of him inside. It makes his eyes shoot open and his back arch. You don't move, leaning down to put your mouth against his, swallowing every moan and whimper, and rewarding him with a teasing grind. He lays pliant soon enough, groaning at the way you bring yourself up till the tip kisses your entrance, before snapping your hips down to get him back inside. You ride him like you can't live without it. Sweet girl with an equally sweet pussy. He thought you well.

a/n: PHEW, I'm rusty as shits forgive me, I've got other stuff cooking in my drafts I swear I'm not lazy. This was kinda bad, written in two hours cause I sneaked this in between doing my papers. Hope y'all liked this, remember to always drink water n take your meds!!

Yours, truly,

–Dolly

#cod x reader #cod imagine #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon smut #x female reader #cod x reader smut

[troybarnesbucky]

just returning here after 2 years of not being on this cursed app to say one thing and one thing only. i LEFT this app because of rampant antisemitism and dehumanization that i witnessed two years ago. my last post was about the death of sarah halimi z’l, which you were all silent about. today, six months after the most violent and deadly attack on jews since the Shoah, i return to see how the virulent and disgusting antisemitism that pushed me away from here is even worse than it ever was. i was on tumblr, with various accounts, for more than a decade. it was NEVER this bad but then again, the dehumanization of jews has become so normalized in the last five or six years, so idk why i’m surprised.

well i’m not really surprised. but i’m here because i want to say i told you so, but it’s pointless. you all don’t care. you don’t care that jewish people in your own countries, let alone israel (god forbid lollll) are being abused, attacked, bullied and dehumanized at pre-Shoah levels. you would rather that happen than exhibit nuance, empathy for everyone, or stay silent when you don’t need to say a fucking thing about a conflict miles and miles away from you, in distance and in reality. i’ve lost friends, i’ve lost my last year of education, i lost my mental health, all because when it comes to jews, no amount of repeating the same stupid, violent pattern of dehumanization will teach you non-jews (and yes, some of you jews too) the lesson of antisemitism and its poisonous, conspiratorial and dangerous nature.

we know you don’t care. it’s been made so abundantly clear, not just now but in the last six, seven, eight years. when the only antisemitism you cared about was in a harry potter book, or in trump’s dumbass comments, or in a movie about a jew with a prosthetic nose. and even then most of you didn’t care, you didn’t let us jews define our oppression — so we know you don’t care enough to give us that “privilege” now.

but i know, maybe twenty or thirty years from now, you’ll look at pictures and maybe even history books and remember what you said, did, and fought for. maybe you won’t. maybe you’ll still be sick, poisoned by antisemitism and unable to shake it off. or maybe not, and only then will you realize that you perpetuated this violence, evil, this dehumanization of jews. you called us nazis, you spit at our faces while we begged to be seen, you engaged in violent antisemitism comparable to nazi-era rhetoric. and maybe THEN you’ll feel bad. but then it’ll be too late.

to any jew that comes across this post, you’re not alone. my DMs are always open — i don’t come on this app much but will always be happy to talk. am yisrael chai ❤️

#antisemitism #jumblr #jewish hatred #judaism #am yisrael chai

[kinardscoffee]

Does anyone else think that Tommy rehearsed what he wanted to say to Buck in the drive over to his loft?

Cause when Buck opens the door, Tommy seems a bit lost in thought to me. He's looking down at the floor. Telling himself that he's Tommy Kinard and he didn't do anything wrong but Eddie told him that something about Buck just seemed off lately and he feels bad because Buck loves the people in his life to the fucking extreme. He'd easily take a bullet for any of them, and he's even put himself in that position multiple times.

So, Tommy decides to stop by Buck's place before he has to go on shift because there's no way he can focus at work knowing Buck feels excluded.

And he has no idea what to say? "Sorry I stole your best friend and his son. I just wanted to feel a millisecond of that happiness you experience on the daily."

He expects to show up, apologize, and explain that he's not a threat and never would or could be.

And it's flowing. The conversation.

Tommy tells Buck that he just wanted to be part of that family atmosphere that the 118 have. Because that's the root of it, isn't it? To be around people who like you for exactly who you are? No expectations.

Tommy has never had that before.

Sure, the people at work include him, but it's a different type of inclusion. He doesn't know the names of their family members, he doesn't sit down with them for "family dinner" like Bobby does.

They are just coworkers. Nothing more.

But those four individuals that asked for his help that night?

They didn't hesitate once to save Bobby and his wife. No questions asked, no confirmation needed. All because someone didn't answer their phone.

Tommy can't help but feel a warm magnetism between them. A silent confirmation that, no matter what, they will always have each other's back at any given time.

And the people THEY love... they're included under that umbrella of certainty and that's where Tommy thinks he fucked up.

Because Buck is under everyone's umbrella.

So, he's honest. Tommy doesn't know how not to be. He tells Buck he was jealous of all those things, and maybe that played a part in how situations unfolded, but that was never directed at Buck.

And then...

Wait.

Buck tells Tommy that he asked for the tour because he wanted to get to know him. Tommy. Buck explains that this whole thing hasn't been him trying to win back his found family, but join them in including Tommy within their unit.

"... 'cause trying to get your attention has been kind of exhausting."

That's the jump start to Tommy's brain.

His attention? His?

"My attention?"

All this time, Tommy has been making the first move in the name of camaraderie. He invited Eddie to the fight. He invited him to trivia night.

But Buck was just trying to simply get Tommy to fucking look at him.

And now, in Buck's apartment, listening to Buck rambling about how he's not as cool as Eddie and how he understands why Tommy would prefer to hang out with Eddie...

Tommy sees him.

He acts on that magnetism he's felt from Buck since that first night. He thought, after speaking with Eddie, that it was full of resentment, but now, as he presses their lips together, Tommy thinks that, maybe, this could be something.

And he's ready to try.

#i don't really know what this is? #i had a thought and now we're here #911 abc #911 fandom #evan buckley #bucktommy #tommy kinard #tevan #kinley #help me

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 3

Gotham Academy High School was the sort of school where almost everyone was elite in some way or another. Some of them were from old money like Damian who held himself up to a very high standard in his academics and was the top of the class. Others from new money like Dash and the rest of his cohorts became very hateful of somebody like Danny who was given a scholarship by Bruce Wayne, in their eyes Danny was taking advantage of Damian not even knowing that Damian approached Danny for companionship two years ago.

This also meant that everyone including the teachers would compare Danny and Damian to each other even though they weren’t brothers. That didn’t matter though as Danny was associated with them so that was all the reason they needed.

Danny groaned as he sunk into the seat next to Damian. The lunchroom was filled with chatting students and Danny was glad he shared the next class with Damian, which happened to be English. Dash never bothered Danny when Damian was around, probably because Damian had threatened the jock. How he was threatened Danny didn’t know, Damian never told him what happened and he was a little scared to ask. 

The guy hadn’t stopped harassing Danny since he and Jazz transferred a couple years ago. The school year had barely begun and Dash had made Danny his primary target like he was making up for lost time over the summer. Danny sighed as he dropped his paper bagged lunch on the table with a little plop. Jazz had packed for him this morning hopefully before his parents arrived and contaminated the entire kitchen.

“Dash again?” his sister asked across the table, she was seated next to Tim.

“I was paired against him in dodgeball again,” Danny lamented, his head resting on his arms that were crossed on the table.

“Danny, could you just talk to Mr. Lancer or something?” Jazz asked before she took a bite from her sandwich.

Danny sighed again and unpacked his lunch, “I have but no one will listen! They all act like I’m lying or something.” The teachers at this school probably wouldn’t listen to a charity case like him. Dash was a football player and had plans to become captain of the team. Everyone at the school loved Dash and it was precisely why everyone except maybe the four students at the table they were seated looked down and sometimes even bullied Danny.

Danny ignored it all eventually, it was better just to let the jock tire himself out. 

Once Danny and Damian finished eating they made their way to English. Luckily it was easy to carry the material for a class that only required a small binder and whatever book they were reading, in this case it was ‘gone with the wind’. Danny didn’t really care about reading old literature like this but he did what he had to maintain the grades he had. He’d endure anything, even Dash’s bullying, to become an astronaut.

Danny could hardly concentrate today through his afternoon classes. For some reason he had a bad feeling that something was going to happen. He tried his best to ignore it, he was probably just tired or something. Soon the school day was out and Danny packed up whatever homework he had for the day and headed outside to wait with Jazz. Damian and Tim were probably wrapping up their classes. Tim had an AP class that ran an extra 30 minutes and Damian’s last class was art, they were doing a painting and it wasn’t unusual for Damian to finish up what he was working on as he found out over the last few years that he enjoyed painting.

“… Do you think it’ll work?” Jazz asked a hint of hesitation in her voice. Danny knew she was talking about the portal, the both of them had talked about it before. Danny glanced over at his sister, he could tell she was having trouble sleeping lately, her face looked tired and her posture was stiff with her arms crossed in front of her. Both of them had anxiety about the possibilities the portal possessed, and they were especially worried that their parents wouldn’t take it well if the portal didn’t work. 

He was equally concerned that it would work. “I hope not…” he said eventually. It was something that brought the siblings closer as the whole of their family fell apart. How their parents managed to pull off getting the funding in the first place seemed to be a miracle. Everyone called their parents crazy and dismissed all of their science as ludicrous garbage.

Danny wondered how they even managed to stay under Batman's radar, he thought that something like this would be cause for the vigilante to look into it but maybe the thought of ghosts was just that outlandish that even the dark knight himself thought it to be crazy too. Danny himself didn’t believe in anything his parents published, some of the papers even seemed to be biased somehow, even though his parents hadn’t ever actually encountered a ghost. That last part was probably the reason no one bothered to actually investigate his parents, there wasn’t really much to investigate.

The siblings waited in silence and eventually Tim and Damian showed up after their classes and the four headed to Alfred waiting by the car. 

If anyone tried to start a conversation with Danny he wasn’t paying attention. If he was being honest, his parents' portal scared him a lot. He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous about it, both him and Jazz renounced the thought that ghosts could exist. Something deep down in his guts told him that he should turn and run, that what his parents were attempting was taboo and that his parents were tampering with forces unimaginable. 

No one was going to listen to a fourteen year old though so Danny kept his feelings to himself and ignored them. 

Soon they were pulled in front of their apartment and true to their word, Damian and Tim asked Alfred to park nearby. Danny and Jazz took a hesitant glance at each other as they walked into the house. 

#dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #poor danny #Major Character Death and undeath in the next one #bad parents jack and maddie #Danny gets his powers and everyone else gets trauma #This is going to focus heavily on Danny and what he’s going through #Bulling mentioned #Danny loves space #Heavy angst in the next few chapters #Let me know who you'd like to see show up from DC #I'm also thinking of bringing in Sam and Tucker #I know exactly what I have in mind to bring them into the fray too #I'm excited to write some of this but also a little nervous lol #I have ideas #I have a little more of an idea of where I want this to go so I will be focusing on this one #I haven't forgotten the others though I find it easier to take breaks and let parts breath for a bit #I have a few books on writing that I've been meaning to read so I might give those a go #One of the things I'm struggling to figure out is showing and not just telling #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use

[huggingkoalas]

out of love

pairings natasha romanoff x fem!reader

synopsis natasha loses you three times in the worst way possible.

word count 6.5k

warnings angst, bad/angsty ending, mentions of alcohol consumption, breaking up, cursing, mentions of cheating, pet names, car accident, panic attacks, jealousy, medical rooms, amnesia, mentions of therapy

author’s note yes, this was a series. i’ve decided to make it into a oneshot instead because of how much this fic has actually emotionally affected me :') this fic means a lot to me, but it’s also a constant reminder of someone really dear to me that i lost recently. i’ve lost count of how many times i cried while writing the ending, and i’m so sorry if the ending seems rushed </3

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Natasha was always full of confidence, loyalty and fierceness. She never backed down from a fight, especially excelling in close hand-to-hand combat where her ability was nothing short of intimidating. Ruthless and exceptionally efficient and skilled at her job, she struck fear into anyone who had the misfortune to cross the Black Widow’s path.

But that was at work. And at home? There was a big difference. While her enemies were always on their knees at the end of a fight, begging her for mercy to spare their lives, she was the one on her knees this time. Natasha Romanoff — one of the founding members of the Avengers, an agent of S.H.I.E.LD., and a professional assassin, your wife — was on her knees, begging for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, moya lyubov’ (my love). Forgive me, please.” She begged, tears gathering in her eyes. 

Your shadow loomed over the kneeling redhead. Holding your breath and trying to keep your tears at bay, you pursed your lips together, not trusting yourself to speak in a steady voice.

“Please, I’ll do anything.” With trembling hands on her lap, Natasha glanced up at your face. She couldn’t control a sob breaking out from her throat as she saw the saddened expression on your face. 

“Am I… not important to you anymore?” You spoke in a quiet voice.

“I...-” With eyes filled with tears, she struggled to find the right words to explain herself. Despite her usual strength and confidence, Natasha looked vulnerable, almost broken, before you. 

“Where were you tonight? Drinking with Banner and Thor again?” You asked with a shaky breath.

The answer was already clear before Natasha even spoke. There was a faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air, a reminder of her downward spiral in recent months. It pained you to witness the transformation, to see the woman you loved slipping further and further away with each passing day. Over the past two months, Natasha had been arriving home late consistently, often in an intoxicated state. Her presence during mornings and evenings became a rarity, and you would find yourself sleeping alone in the shared bed at night, longing for the warmth of her presence. Despite consuming a large amount of alcohol the night prior, Natasha would, without fail, rise early for work the next day. 

You missed snuggling up beside her after a long day, your head in the crook of her neck as you smelled the vanilla shampoo in her hair. You missed the closeness, of feeling her heartbeat against your chest and the softness of her breath against your skin. These days, the smell of alcohol replaced the comforting and familiar scent you were used to. 

While Natasha’s current vulnerability was a display of her remorse and pain you’d never seen before, you wanted another kind of vulnerability — one where she was there for you, where she prioritised you first. You longed for her comfort, her reassurance as she held you close and whispered words of love in your ear.

With an exhausted sigh, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of even more disappointment at the sight of the two untouched plates of home-cooked beef stroganoff on the dining table. The tantalising aroma of the beef stroganoff now made you nauseous. It bitterly reminded you and mocked you of your meticulous efforts to please your wife. The once-warm meal lay cold since you plated them up three hours ago while you anticipated Natasha to return home. Accompanying the two plates were two wine glasses, a softly lit candle, and an unopened bottle of red wine. And in the refrigerator, there was a baking tray of lemon meringue pie from Natasha’s favourite bakery.

Today held a significant meaning — It marked the second wedding anniversary with the love of your life, Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Throughout the day, you tirelessly spent hours pouring your heart and soul into preparing each slice of tenderloin and delicately sprinkling the chives on the completed dish. Cooking wasn’t your forte, you had to learn how to cook it from websites. You still tried your best to make it the tastiest beef stroganoff Natasha had ever tasted in her life.

And to add salt to the injury, she never even bothered to return home early, preferring to drown herself in alcohol at the bar.

If you cooked her favourite dish and queued from early sunrise to buy her favourite dessert, Natasha would come home instead of getting wasted at the bar, right? You were sorely mistaken. You had even persistently messaged her all day, excitedly telling her about the candlelit dinner you had carefully planned for the evening. However, all of your texts went unanswered.

You almost found amusement and humour in your naïvety. Three months ago, ever since Natasha and her sister, Yelena, successfully brought down the Red Room, she changed for the worse. You expected her to shift into a more carefree demeanour after the mission, but it was the opposite. Despite your best to understand and put yourself in her shoes, Natasha remained guarded, only telling you bits and pieces of information about what happened during her mission.

“Y/N/N?” Natasha barely whispered. The vulnerability in her expression was a contrast to the loving and confident person you fell in love with.

“I need some time apart to figure things out, Natasha.” It had been a long time since you uttered her full name, always preferring to call her ‘Natty’ or, your personal favourite, ‘sunshine’. 

A pang of sorrow tugged at your heart, for Natasha had truly been your sunshine once upon a time. In the beginning, she had truly been like a ray of sunlight, her sweet smile had the power to brighten even the gloomiest of days, her laughter your favourite melody. And now, as you stood before her, the Natasha you once knew and loved had become a distant memory. In her place stood a shadow of her former self, someone who was almost unrecognisable to you. She was no longer your sunshine, but a raincloud that drenched you in loneliness and despair.

Your fingers instinctively played with the wedding ring adorning your left hand, tracing its edges and rolling it around your finger to alleviate your anxiety as you awaited her next words. You expected her to refuse and deny your words, to tell you that she needed you in her life, but all you got from her was a single word  — “okay.”

Her answer made you scoff loudly.

“That’s it? All I get is an ‘okay’?” You seethed, your hands clenched into tight fists as you let anger consume your words. “Did you ever take this relationship seriously, Natasha? Was I nothing more to you than a warm body when you had nightmares and decent fuck when you were horny?” 

“I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way.” Natasha’s voice wavered as she struggled to find the right words.

“I can’t take this anymore.” You declared, the words spilling from your mouth before you could even stop yourself. “Fuck you, Natasha, I’m leaving. Forget taking a break — I never want to see you ever again.”

The hurt and shock in her eyes were unmistakable, but you did not regret your harsh words. The silence that followed afterwards was deafening. Natasha looked down, avoiding eye contact with you.

You slid your wedding ring off your finger, using more force than usual as you placed it on the coffee table. The sound of it hitting the table echoed loudly throughout the room. Instead of feeling a weight off your shoulders, a gnawing sense of anxiety and disappointment bubbled in your stomach. 

Is this the end of your marriage?

You love, no, loved Natasha, and the weight of the one-sided relationship had become too much for you to bear alone. You wondered if she ever truly cared about you in the first place, or if you were only a distraction from her busy life as an Avenger. You had a nagging feeling that, maybe, she was unsatisfied with being in love with an Avenger-turned-housewife instead of someone like Bruce Banner. You shook your head as the image of Bruce surfaced in your mind. Aware of his past crush on your wife, you could not help but wonder if Natasha, too, had developed feelings for him and hesitated to break your heart with the truth.

Maybe that’s why she’s been spending time with Bruce at the bar.

Was her love ever real?

And with that, you turned away. You stood before the door, your hand hesitating over the doorknob. You expected Natasha to intervene and stop you from leaving once more. With a hesitant glance back at her, you observed her entire frame convulsing with sobs, making it even harder to walk away.

You stepped out the door as you couldn’t bear to witness the pain in your favourite green eyes any longer. You knew leaving was the right thing to do, even if it tore you apart inside. As you settled into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the familiar driveway, the haunting image of Natasha’s tear-streaked face lingered in your mind

You had to get far, far away from Natasha. The only other person you trust is Wanda, your ex-girlfriend and another Avenger. She would be able to comfort you with her soothing presence and words. Tears welled in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks as you navigated the familiar streets to Wanda’s house. The turn of events weighed heavily on your mind, and millions of questions ran through your head.

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice the traffic light blaring red ahead. A car from the opposite direction ran right towards you, its glaring light blinding your vision with its intensity. With a sharp intake of breath, the screeching sound of tyres filled the air as you braced yourself for impact.

It could have been hours that Natasha knelt on the wooden floor after you left the house, or it could have been minutes. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. All she knew was that her heart ached. It was as if someone had reached into her chest, grabbed her heart, and thrown it across the room without any consideration.

She felt overwhelmed. The air felt thick and made it hard for her to breathe as waves of panic coursed through her. She lay in a fetal position, her knees to her chest and her forehead on the floor. Her trembling hands clutched at her chest, desperately trying to calm the racing beats of her heart. Her body could not stop convulsing as tears streamed down her face, blurring the surroundings around her. 

Every shallow breath she expelled felt painful, and she felt like she was anchored to the cold ground beneath her. It was as if the room was spinning, and the walls were closing in, trapping her in endless suffering. The ache in her chest mirrored the shattering of her heart.

The events that happened after she had come home drunk had sobered her up quickly, and all she felt now was a hollow emptiness. Natasha felt like a complete asshole. She had taken advantage of your kindness and patience and trampled all over it. She took you for granted, and now she was all alone in the place she called home.

Home. It was merely a house, but the treasured memories the two of you shared with love and affection made it a home.

Once the waves of a panic attack passed, she craned her neck up to glance around her surroundings. The singular candle you prepared for the candlelit dinner was still burning on the dining table, illuminating the dimly lit living room. Even with the blinds drawn over the windows, she could see outside enough to gauge that sunrise was coming soon.

Unexpectedly, the voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. shattered the silence as it echoed through the house. “Agent Natasha Romanoff. Please come to the Avengers Compound as quickly as possible.” 

Natasha groaned softly in response, slowly getting on her feet cautiously. Her knees and arms ached as she got her balance, a painful reminder of how she spent the night in an uncomfortable position.

Even when she chose to live separately from the Avengers, Tony Stark insisted he installed F.R.I.D.A.Y. into the home for ‘extra’ security. A sense of unease gnawed at her. She rarely got an announcement from the A.I. unless necessary, such as an emergency or a last-minute mission.

“Did something happen?” She called out to the A.I., her voice cracking and hoarse from the crying.

“Y/N Romanoff is in the hospital wing. She has suffered critical injuries from a car accident.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied promptly.

Panic surged through her body as she quickly shed last night’s attire. With each distressed movement, thoughts of how badly hurt you were raced through her mind. 

Shit. What has she done?

Natasha barged through the swinging doors of the infirmary in the Avengers Compound, her eyes surveying the all-too-familiar place. There were countless times when she had to prioritise tending to her wounds in the infirmary after missions instead of debriefing, as she was always someone to choose fight instead of flight when faced with enemies.

The place buzzed with the hum of fluorescent lights, and the antiseptic smell in the air nauseated her. She approached the first medical professional in her sightline, a male nurse.

“Bring me to Y/N Romanoff’s room, now.” She ordered, grabbing the nurse's uniform collar in a tight fist.

The nurse’s hands struggled under her grasp, choking out. “Y-Yes, Agent Romanoff. This way.” 

Letting go of his collar, the male nurse quickly led her down the hallways to your room in fear of angering the assassin further. Her heart raced as she followed behind him, not prepared for how wounded you would look after the car accident.

As Natasha entered the room, her fears were confirmed as she saw you. You were lying on the hospital bed, pale and fragile, while hooked up to multiple wires and machines that monitored your every heartbeat and breathing. Your whole body was covered with bandages and bruises, and the sight of your unconscious body supplemented the guilt in her gut.

“Agent Romanoff, we’ve done X-rays, CT scans and an MRI of her body. She has multiple transverse fractures on her clavicle and pelvic bone. She’s suffered a traumatic brain injury from the car accident, and she’s been comatose ever since.”

Before she could question him further, the nurse quickly left the room. She huffed in annoyance. Shrugging off the encounter with the medical professional, she approached your bedside with hesitant steps, sitting on the chair beside the bed. Taking your cold hand in hers, her index and middle fingers quickly found the pulse point on your wrist. Your pulse was weak. 

Tears welled up in Natasha’s eyes, threatening to spill as she whispered through choked sobs, her voice trembling with emotion “It’s all my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Please, wake up. I need you.”

Natasha needed you. Without you, she felt lost, like she was swimming adrift in an endless sea. Her thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind. She felt like her world had become even greyer. She traced the contours of your face with her eyes as if trying to memorise every detail that made you uniquely you. All she could do was hope and pray that you would wake up soon to forgive her and give her one last chance to fix everything.

Days turned into weeks into months. Two months since you got into a coma. Two months since she heard her favourite voice. Two months of replaying the same scene the day she lost you.

The disappointment in your voice. Your disappointed face. The smell of beef stroganoff. The sound of you placing the wedding ring on the coffee table. The door clicking behind you as you left the house.

Two months felt like two years to Natasha. With each passing moment, the vital signs monitor played the steady rhythm of your heartbeat in the medical room. She refused to leave your side for even a moment. Nick Fury immediately gave her time off from missions to allow her to prioritise your well-being.

Everyone in the Avengers recognised the toll it was taking on Natasha’s well-being. Wanda took it upon herself to bring her meals and encourage her to shower and step outside to get a breath of fresh air. Wanda would remind her that you wouldn’t want her to neglect her own needs. Despite being curious about what had happened that night, the brunette never pressed her for answers. The wounds were still fresh, and Natasha always looked miserable every time Wanda came into the medical room. Both of them took turns taking care of you. Natasha knew about your past romantic relationship with Wanda, but she trusted her the most amongst all the other Avengers to take care of you.

Natasha felt a deep loneliness she couldn’t shake off that only your awakening could dispel. She clung to the glimmer of hope that each passing moment brought you closer to waking up. With every conversation with Helen telling her that your body was recovering well, her heart swelled with optimism, and she found a twinge of happiness in the gentle rhythm of the rise and fall of your chest.

When alone with you, Natasha would talk mindlessly to you, sharing stories of her day and reminding you that she loved you. Even when you were unconscious, she never failed to greet you every day with an ‘I love you’. She read your favourite books, played your favourite songs, and whispered words of love, hoping you could somehow hear her.

Night after night, Natasha would drift off to sleep with her head resting on the edge of your bed. The position was far from comfortable, but the discomfort mattered little to her. All that mattered was being near you and being the first person you see when you wake up, even if it meant sacrificing her comfort.

And then, one day, as the first rays of dawn bathed the room in a warm glow, you woke up. Natasha was asleep when you aroused from your coma, and she stirred awake by the twitch from your hand intertwined with hers.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, a soft whine leaving your throat as you met her tear-filled gaze. A wave of relief washed over Natasha, but your eyes widened in panic and alarm as you saw the redhead in front of you.

“W-Who the fuck are you?”

Natasha swore she would be able to hear a pin drop from how silent the room became. The green eyes, previously full of hope, reflected a mixture of disappointment and pain. Speechless, Natasha met your stunned gaze as she took her time to process your words.

“W-Where am I?” You mumbled in a hoarse voice. 

Your eyes tried to adjust to the blinding light of the overhead lights as your consciousness slowly reawakened. A frown formed on your face as your eyes scanned every corner of the medical room. One of the surrounding machines beeped steadily, indicating that your vital signs were stable. You scratched your head and tried to remember how you ended up in the hospital, but you can’t.

Natasha picked up the glass of water from the nightstand and offered it to you with trembling hands. You drank the water thirstily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

“It’s me, Natasha, your wife. Don’t you remember?” She began, moving her chair closer to your bed. “You’re at the Avengers Compound. You’ve been in a coma for a while.”

“I... Have a wife?” Aside from the fact that you were in an infirmary, the fact that you were married to someone surprised you more. You studied the features of the redhead sitting in front of you — the sense of familiarity tugged at the edges of your consciousness. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, we got married two years ago.” Natasha explained, her tone as soothing as possible.

“But... I have a girlfriend, Wanda.” You said, tilting your head to the side. “Where is she?”

Natasha’s hands shot up to cover her mouth as her eyes watered. She rose from the chair and stepped away from her bed. The room felt like it was closing in on her. Her hands became clammy, and each breath was laboured as her heart raced. A relentless drumbeat echoed in Natasha's ears.

Was this a nightmare? 

The impulse to reach out and grab your hand, a source of comfort that calmed her down, surged within her. Yet, she hesitated.

You appeared as the body of the person Natasha had fallen in love with years ago when you were just eighteen and freshly recruited into the Avengers team. The both of you had a rocky start — she was your enemy first before she became your friend and eventually your lover. However, that chapter was a long time ago as you had retired from the front lines upon marrying her.

As Natasha observed you, a sense of unease settled within her. There wasn’t the same warmth she once found in your eyes. Instead, an unfamiliar emptiness stared back at her. The very gaze that used to ignite with love and affection now held an empty void — The same expression as the day when you broke up with her. Natasha clung to the hope that your memory would somehow seamlessly reweave themselves back into your consciousness, dispelling the thoughts that she was staring at a stranger disguised as her wife.

You wrinkled your nose as you awaited her response. You tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but your muscles weakened from inactivity and failed you. You winced as you felt a sharp pain in your chest.

“Don’t strain yourself.” Natasha’s voice was laced with concern. She gently guided you to remain lying down. “I should get Dr Helen. Stay here, don’t move.”

Before you could formulate a response, she hurried out of the room. As Natasha disappeared from your view, her heart sank as she realised the extent of your memory loss. She should have expected this — Dr Helen did briefly inform her about how you might experience a few symptoms of memory loss due to the brain injury.

But damn, did your words hit hard.

As Natasha hurried down the corridor, a nagging sense of guilt held her down. Was your memory loss a form of karma for her past actions? Or perhaps a second chance to rebuild things with you? Even though you had effectively cut ties with her moments before the accident, she wanted to be there for you every step of the way. Was she going to tell you what had happened mere minutes before your car accident? No, not yet. Her focus had to be on providing support during your rehabilitation.

She couldn’t bear to lose you again.

The intensity of her emotions became even more palpable as Natasha approached the nurses’ station. Two familiar figures gradually became apparent in the distance, Dr. Helen and Wanda. Both of them were engaged in an animated conversation, but they stopped when they saw the dread on Natasha’s face.

“Y/N’s awake.” Natasha relayed.

Entering the hospital room as a trio, your eyes ignited with a mix of relief and recognition as you saw Wanda.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I missed you.” You warmly greeted Wanda with a wide grin.

As those words slipped from your lips, Natasha’s heart tightened in response. It was a term you had reserved only for her before the accident. On the other hand, Wanda could only manage a warm smile, waving at you. Wanda was unsure of how to respond to the term you used to call her when the both of you were dating.

“Y/N, it’s great to see you awake.” Dr Helen chimed in, trying to ease the atmosphere. With a clipboard in hand, she flipped through your medical records. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… confused. What happened to me?” You asked.

Natasha quickly jumped in. “You were in a car accident two months ago.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Car accident? But I don’t remember anything.” 

Wanda, sensing the discomfort in the room, stepped forward. “It’s okay, Y/N. The important thing is that you’re awake now. Natasha and I are here for you.”

In response, you graced Wanda with an endearing smile. Your hand extended, seeking and finding Wanda’s. You seemed to be reassured by her presence and physical touch. Natasha, observing the scene, couldn’t help but feel a subtle pang of jealousy. She pushed it aside, reminding herself that you were only acting this way because of the memory loss.

“We’re all here to help you remember.” Natasha spoke softly. 

As your eyes flickered between the two women, there was a spark of love in your eyes as you glanced at Wanda. However, when your gaze turned toward Natasha, the same void of distance was in your eyes.

“Do you remember anything else before the car accident?” Dr Helen inquired, her pen poised over the pages as she wrote down your responses.

“No…?” You responded tentatively, a furrow forming on your forehead.

“Alright. Firstly, what’s your current profession?” Dr Helen probed.

“I’m a retired Avenger.” You uttered, unconsciously tightening your grip on Wanda’s hand.

“Your age?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Do you remember these two?” Dr Helen redirected your attention, pointing to Natasha and Wanda.

“Wanda’s my girlfriend. I don’t remember who the other person is.” You confessed, looking at Natasha with a raised eyebrow.

How could you get all the questions wrong? Natasha crossed her arms, feeling uncomfortable under your gaze.

“Very well. Your cooperation is appreciated, Y/N.” Dr Helen acknowledged you with a nod, turning her attention to the two other women. “Agent Romanoff and Agent Maximoff, may I talk to the both of you in my office for a few minutes?”

Natasha and Wanda exchanged an apprehensive glance before nodding in unison, accompanying the doctor out of the room. In Dr Helen’s office, both women settled into chairs opposite her desk, their postures stiff. Dr Helen wasted no time, closing the door to her office with a decisive click before taking her seat behind the desk.

“I’ll need to ask Y/N more questions later to confirm the type of amnesia she’s experiencing. Based on the questions earlier, there’s a high chance she’s experiencing systematized amnesia.” Leaning forward, Dr Helen rested her elbows on the table, hands clasped together. “It’s a type of amnesia that happens when an individual experiences long-term stress or trauma. It can be from experiencing physical, sexual or emotional neglect and abuse. In response, the brain blocks out all memories about that one specific person from their past.”

Dr Helen’s statement made Natasha’s mind spin. Wanda gripped the armrests tightly, her eyes reflecting a mix of confusion and concern. “Is that why she remembers me, and not Natasha?”

“Exactly.” She paused, turning her attention to Natasha. “Agent Romanoff, have you ever hit your wife?”

“What? No, of course not.” Natasha replied with an exasperated shake of her head. “But… We did have an argument before her car accident. I haven’t been spending time with her. I was too busy drinking at the bar to spend time with her on the day of our second anniversary. She broke up with me before she got into the car accident.”

Wanda’s anger flared, her fists clenched by her sides as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “So the reason she got into a car accident is because of you?” She accused. “What the fuck, Natasha.” 

Natasha drew in a deep breath. “I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t know that she’d get into a car accident. I messed up.”

Dr Helen stepped in. “Emotions run high in situations like these, but our focus should be on helping Y/N recover and helping her navigate through her memory loss. We can’t change the past, but we can make choices to change the future.”

Wanda, her jaw clenched in frustration, couldn’t contain the bitterness in her retort. “Fine, but regret doesn’t undo the damage you’ve done, Natasha. Y/N trusted and loved you, and you let her down. She doesn’t deserve this, and she certainly doesn’t deserve you.” 

Natasha’s lips trembled slightly, struggling to hold back tears.

Wanda, unable to contain her frustration, abruptly pushed her chair back. “I can’t deal with this right now.” 

She stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Dr Helen winced at the resounding sound before sighing. “Let’s regroup later. Wanda needs some time, and we’ll address these issues when everyone’s ready.”

Wanda burst into the medical room, her brows furrowed in deep frustration and a scowl etched across her face. Startled by her sudden entrance, you jumped slightly in your bed, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw her expression. “Wands?” You whispered. “What’s wrong?”

As you whispered her name, Wanda’s tense expression softened. She approached your bed with slow steps, her hands reaching out to hold yours.

“It’s... It’s nothing, Y/N.” Wanda replied, her voice tight with emotion. 

Despite Wanda’s attempt to dismiss her agitation, you could sense the remaining anger beneath her facade. You furrowed your brow, concern etching your features. 

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” You insisted gently, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “You stormed in here looking like you were ready to take on an army.”

Wanda’s lips twitched with a hint of amusement, but the weight of her distress remained evident in her eyes. She hesitated for a moment, exhaling a breath before finally speaking.

“It’s Natasha.” Wanda admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I just… I don’t know how to handle all of this.”

As much as Wanda wanted to tell you the reason you fell into a coma, she knew that it wasn’t her place to reveal the information without Natasha’s consent. She had to choose her words carefully.

You listened intently, your heart sinking at the mention of Natasha’s name. The complexity of your relationshipwith her made you feel uncertain and overwhelmed.

How could you be married to someone you couldn’t remember?

“Is Natasha really my wife?” You asked.

You closed your eyes, trying to find any memory that you shared with the woman who was supposedly your wife. But try as you might, your mind remained blank, empty of any intimate or shared memories with the redhead.

Wanda’s expression softened with empathy. “Yes.” She affirmed gently. “Natasha’s your wife.”

“That means you and I… we broke up?” You pressed your lips together, trying not to frown.

“Yeah.” Wanda began, her voice soft but tinged with sadness. "We broke up because I wasn’t ready for become something more. Our relationship... it’s clear that you love Natasha a lot, more than you ever loved me. Even a blind man could see it.”

“Oh.” You sighed, rubbing your thumb over Wanda’s hands. “But… I still love you.”

“Not anymore, Y/N. Your future’s with Natasha now. She loves you a lot and she’s been miserable ever since you got into a coma, so go easy on her, alright?”

Your heart sank at Wanda’s words.

“Alright.” You offered her a bittersweet smile. 

A week after waking up, Dr Helen officially diagnosed you with systematic amnesia. Once you had healed under her careful observation, you were discharged and allowed to return to the home you shared with Natasha. Despite your reluctance to burden her with your care, she was the only one you could depend on. Wanda and the other Avengers had their own responsibilities, leaving Natasha as your primary caretaker.

You were still bruising and aching all over, so Natasha assisted you with various miscellaneous tasks, such as managing your medication intake and helping you with showering. Physically and mentally, you were improving, but you still couldn’t remember Natasha.

Gradually, you treated her as if she were a stranger. She understood that it wasn’t intentional, but she didn’t think she’d lose you in the worst way possible.

The way you flinched whenever she touched you, because she was used to doing it back then when the both of you were together. It pained her deeply. You kept your thoughts and feelings to yourself, not trusting her enough to talk about your feelings. Despite this, outwardly, your interactions with her seemed relatively ‘normal’. The both of you never argued, never fought, and you’d spent time together.

It wasn’t the same as it used to be.

When Natasha returned home from her missions, you’d eagerly rush to her, enveloping her in the tightest hug imaginable and peppering her face with kisses. Now, you greeted her with a tight-lipped smile and a small wave.

In the past, you would cuddle together while watching late-night movies, holding her hand and resting your head on her shoulder. Now, there was a noticeable distance between you, an emotional and physical space that seemed to widen with each passing day.

She tried bringing you to a coffee place — the one she brought you on your first date. You were intrigued, but you still couldn’t remember anything.

Natasha was genuinely happy to see you making progress in your recovery. Yet, beneath that happiness, she was beginning to grow impatient. Your health was improving, but the state of your marriage seemed to deteriorate because you were unable to remember anything about her.

And, one day, Natasha finally reached her breaking point. She had prepared dinner for you, setting the table and waiting patiently on the couch for your return. But you didn’t arrive until three hours later, long after the food had grown cold.

“Where were you?” Natasha’s voice held a sharp edge as she crossed her arms.

You hadn’t mentioned going out, let alone with whom.

“I went out with Wanda for dinner.” You responded casually.

“And you couldn’t text me to let me know?” Natasha’s tone grew more aggressive.

Not only had you essentially stood her up, but you had also gone out with your ex-girlfriend — the same ex-girlfriend you might still harbour feelings for. It was ironic. It felt like the tables had turned. She was the one feeling hurt and frustrated this time.

“My phone was dead. Why are you so angry?” Your voice rose, becoming defensive as you retrieved your phone from your jacket pocket and tossed it onto the dining table.

“Because I made dinner for you.” 

“So what? I can have it for lunch tomorrow.” 

“That’s not the point. I was waiting for you.” Natasha insisted, her tone laced with frustration.

“And I promise I’ll eat it tomorrow. I’m tired, Natasha. I’m going to bed.” You said dismissively, turning away and walking towards the master bedroom.

It continued for months. Natasha almost wanted to give up, contemplating whether to raise the white flag and accept the bitter truth that you would never remember her at all. The constant arguments between you never seemed to reach a resolution. Instead, they ended with either Natasha or you walking away when things got too heated. With time, Natasha felt like the distance between you grew even more larger. You started coming home late, leaving Natasha disappointed as she waited for you to return to the place that once felt like home to both of you. Every dinner she prepared for you went unnoticed, adding to her sense of loneliness and frustration. 

Natasha felt as though you had undergone a complete transformation, like someone similar to you but not really, well, you. She was a stranger to you just as you were to her.

You were sitting on a plush chair, engrossed in the pages of a book when she finally accepted defeat. She observed you quietly for a moment, the way you were oblivious to her presence behind her.

“Are we still together?” Natasha asked, her voice breaking the silence.

You looked up to find her standing before you, a mixture of longing and sadness in her gaze. 

You closed the book slowly, placing it on the coffee table.

You chuckled bitterly, a touch of sarcasm lacing your words. “Well, legally, I suppose we are.”

Natasha’s heart sank at your response. She had hoped for affection, but instead, she was met with indifference.

“Do you even want us to be together?” Her voice quivered as she spoke. 

You studied her momentarily, leaning your head back against the headrest as you looked her up and down. Natasha looked miserable, her cheeks caked with dried tears and eyebags under her eyes from sleepless nights. 

“I’m sorry, Natasha.” You murmured softly. “I just… I don’t think we’re working out.”

Natasha felt her heart drop at your words. She had feared this moment, dreaded the possibility of hearing those words from you. Yet, the reality of it hit her like a sudden blow.

Your voice cracked as you spoke, barely on the verge of tears. “I tried. I really did try to remember you. Remember I came home late because I told you I was spending time with Wanda? I was actually walking around the places you brought me to, hoping that I’d remember something, anything.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Natasha asked. Her heart clenched at your words and her tears spill over her cheeks.

“Because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I didn’t want to disappoint you at the end of the day.” You whispered, standing up from the plush chair and walking over to her. You raised your hand to Natasha’s cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your touch. “I want you, but I don’t think I’m in love with you. You deserve better than this, Natasha. You deserve better than me. You’re not in love with me — You’re in love with the me before the accident.”

Natasha closed her eyes, leaning into your touch, a silent plea for reassurance. But as you withdrew your hand, the ache of longing remained. 

Just like how your love was out of touch.

“We can’t keep pretending, Natasha.” You said softly, your voice tinged with regret. “Maybe it’s time we accept that things have changed.”

With a heavy sigh, you turned away, unable to bear the pain of seeing her heartbreak. It pained you to hurt her, but you knew that prolonging the inevitable would only cause more suffering for both of you.

This time Natasha knew that she had to stop you from leaving somehow. She couldn’t make the same mistake twice. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, not again. Not for the third time. 

As you headed towards the door, Natasha’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Y/N, please... don’t go.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to stay. Not when the love you once shared almost felt fake. Like it never happened.

You paused for a moment, your hand on the doorknob, before offering a final, pained glance back at Natasha. “I’m sorry, Natasha. Goodbye.”

And with that, you stepped out the door, leaving behind a redhead with a shattered heart.

In an alternate universe, maybe you could actually remember her and love her eternally.

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#lumi’s fics! #marvel #mcu #the avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #angst #wlw #fanfic #fanfiction

[en-gelic]

bubblegum ✸ 엔하이픈

syn. to be loved by them. gn. idolxnon-idol, fluff ⋆ wc 873 ! warnings. skinship, kisses ୨୧ so sweet like bubblegum ʚɞ BOOKSHELF! ⋆

🗯 taglist : @cholexc @07sleepykatz @seunghancore (ask or comment to be added !)

To be loved by lee heeseung meant he would continuously remind you of how much he loved you by kissing you in his favourite places— your neck, your fingers and your jawline. Tying your hair when you were working or busy, and staring holes through your back when you were applying lip gloss, eagerly waiting to wipe it off. Late night calls you would have when he couldn't sleep resulted in you reciting your notes to him, which usually had him asleep in minutes. If it were you struggling to fall asleep, he would sing to you causing you to unconsciously end up staying up just to listen to his voice. You made him cover any song possible and got exclusive covers just for the two of you. He would show off in front of the members whenever you would watch him game.

To be loved by park jongseong meant him sending you options for your hair dye at unholy hours of the morning and coming over extra early to help you with it. Constantly asking whether you had eaten and whether your work was going well. He would be over at your house, scolding you on eating too much fast food and making meal preps for whenever you were too busy. Consulted you before buying anything, which was a terribly bad option as you were the type to encourage anything but kitchen appliances that aren't coffee makers. He would also send you any flavour of coffee he was able to find and constantly expressed his love through sending you gifts wherever he was.

To be loved by sim jaeyun meant him letting you tie his hair into little ponytails even if you tugged to hard. Giving you piggy-backs and using your height difference as an advantage when he wanted to tease you. He would ruffle your hair a lot, which was a habit of his you hated the most. Kissing your head before he went anywhere and teaching you how to fish was his favourite things to do. Whenever he saw an opportunity, he took random photos of you that you never saw until he posted it and defended himself by the fact that they were quite good.

To be loved by park sunghoon meant picking his jewelry— especially glasses and taking any accessory you could find from his collection. Calling you every hour when he was abroad just to ask you whether you were fine and giving you any shirt with his name on it and making you wear it when you were going out with friends to show his 'dominance' he had said to defend himself. He would pout if you didn't say 'I love you' before ending the call and demanded a kiss as an apology. Would send you photos of scenery when he was away and had the habit of eating food that you like on your behalf.

To be loved by kim sunoo meant spending evenings binge watching popular shows while hating most of their plots. Getting you to watch horror movies with him because you were the clingiest when you were scared. Applying your lipgloss for you to give the reason that since he put it on, he can take it off and washing your hair whenever you didn't feel like doing it. Peppering your face with kisses in the excuse that his lips were like free skincare. Would organise your wardrobe every other week, complaining about how disorganised you were. He would be very serious when it comes to not eating until the movie began and would slap your hands away if you tried to eat before it played.

To be loved by yang jungwon meant him picking up souvenirs from anywhere he want and matching clothes with you on purpose but acting as if he didn't mean to. Would send a message before going live to make sure you were able to attend every live if you could. Buys you everything that you like in the convenience store and dumps it all in your house whenever you weren't around, leaving a note he scribbled before leaving. He would create random nicknames for you and send an English 'word of the week' to help with the two of you learning English.

To be loved by nishimura riki meant inside jokes which only the two of you could understand. Fiddling with his rings when he held your hand and raiding his closet whenever you got the chance. He would purposely buy things for 'himself' that he knew you would like, and pretending to be irritated when you take them. Putting things in high places you can't climb up to get just so you could ask him for help. Constantly getting him to draw for you, no matter how many times he says that he's not that good. Adoring your cats whenever he came over and making sure that they weren't bothering you when you were busy with work. Trying to lose every game for you because you were too competitive. Back hugs and cuddles with his body either towering or covering yours which was the best form of body heat in winter. He habitually pretends to not see you since you were much shorter than him.

#en.gelic ๋࣭ ⭑౨ৎ #lia writes ๋࣭ ⭑౨ৎ #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung imagines #park jay x reader #park jay imagines #enhypen jay imagines #jay x reader #sim jake x reader #jake x reader #sim jake imagines #jake imagines #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #sunghoon imagines #enhypen niki #enhypen riki #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen maknae line #jungwon #sunoo

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 11

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: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 14.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Marcus Pike the Breeding Kink King, a dash of dirty talk, the tiniest whiff of roleplay, sexual activity in a public place, cum eating. False accusations of cheating, gossip rags being gossipy, descriptions of getting a tattoo (needle mention). Summary: The end of your trip to Texas comes with a few surprises, and a meeting with your mother goes far better than expected. But good things do not guarantee paradise forever. Notes: Hi my lovelies! I do apologize for the spotty posting timeline lately. My health has been inconsistent to say the very least and continues to be unpredictable. Thank you for bearing with me and always being so incredibly supportive. I'm certain that I missed fixing some errors in this chapter, but I blame the migraine I've have for the last 10 days. Enjoy this week's chapter!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10

The last night you and Marcus are in Texas comes after an afternoon-long barbecue that somehow manages to outdo every barbecue of every previous day. You're pretty sure that you've been nibbling constantly since sunrise but rather than being overwhelmed, you're just sorry that you're going to have to leave tomorrow and not see most of these people again for a long time.

The water in Marcus's hand is for you and he comes over to drop a kiss on your lips as he presses it into your hand. "Band is starting at seven." He tells you. "Do you want to shower beforehand?"

"Probably should." There's mischievousness in your agreement, though, and you tuck a smirk in the corner of your mouth as you take the water from him. "I saved my cutest top for tonight. To be the very best groupie I can be."

"Oh really?" He chuckles at how eager you have been to meet his old bandmates. "I like groupies." He smirks, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you close. "Really like them."

"Do you want to show me how much?" You ask, letting that smirk loose but keeping your voice very quiet even when you bat your eyelashes at him.

"I can do that while we shower." He groans wickedly, winking at you. "Unless you want to save that for after the show?"

"No need to save," you assure him easily, drinking down half of the glass of cold water he brought you and letting your grin grow wider. "There will be hours in between. We can do both."

"Insatiable." He grins back and you, wrinkling his nose slightly and proud about that fact. "I love it."

"C'mon." Grabbing his hand, you head for the house with a bitten back grin. Back inside and upstairs to his room – now appropriately defiled by the fact that you're in that Early Relationship Honeymoon Period and horny as hell – to add his childhood bathroom to the list of places you've fucked on this property.

Marcus smirks when there’s a number of suggestive whistles that ring out. Everyone here aware of how eager the two of you are and he gives a halfhearted wave before disappearing. You might be embarrassed if you cared at all, but his cousins have been nothing but welcoming and accepting. They all seem to share the opinion that Marcus has waited too long to meet his match and you are more than happy to be the one that they have welcomed as their cousin – or nephew or son's – perfect match.

“I love them all, but I need to get you alone.” Marcus huffs as he practically races over to the stairs.

"Alone, naked, and wet, I hope." You're on the stairs just ahead of him, the advantage of one or two steps meaning your ass is right in his face as you hustle up to the second floor.

"How wet you are depends on how good of a job I do turning you on." He can't help himself, reaching out and slapping your ass, something you love if your delighted giggle is anything to go by. "How wet are you?"

“Wet enough that if you even touch me over my clothes, I’m going to moan,” you admit, glancing back at him when you reach the top of the stairs.

"Promises, promises." Marcus reaches out and cups your pussy from behind, jumping up the last two steps to press close to you. "Fuck, I love you." He growls into your ear as he rubs your clit.

“Oh fuck—” Maybe it’s more of a whine than a groan but the arousal in your voice is unmistakable. Pressed between Marcus and the wall, your hips rock to get as much pressure and friction from his hand as absolutely possible. “I—I love you too, baby. Fuck.”

"Shower." He orders softly, pulling away from you reluctantly. He knows he can't fuck you in the hallway and his cock is already pressing against his shorts.

Since the discovery of your interest in a more submissive role sexually, you and Marcus have been enjoying playing with the dynamic. Soft orders for things that he knows will bring you both pleasure. Seeing how well you follow his instructions while he’s inside of you in any way. Right now you move with long strides to get to the shower as quickly as possible, already shedding your clothes along the way.

Smirking as he watches the rushed strip show, Marcus pulls his own shirt over his head. He's never had someone so enthusiastic for his touch and it's honestly its own kind of high. Plenty of women wanted him, but not with the hunger that you constantly display. He can only hope that it never changes. "So sexy." He huffs, unbuttoning his shorts to step out of them as he follows you.

“Oh yeah?” As soon as the water is on, you glance back over your shoulder and throw him the most tantalizing glance you can possibly summon. “Come and show me how much.”

“Fuck.” He hisses and immediately rushes forward to crowd into the shower with you, pressing kisses to your back as he folds in closer to you.

Marcus might be testing the waters with how dominant he’s comfortable being, but he still likes it when you show him how much you want him. When you hum at the feeling of his hands on your skin or moan deep in your throat at the perfect kiss. He even loves moments like these, when you whimper at the way his large hands spread over your body to hold you as close to him as you can possibly be without him being inside you.

“Love you.” He whispers into your skin, not wanting you to forget it in the two seconds since he has said it last.

“I love you, too.” Pressed into that little space together, you twist your head around to kiss him and then lean forward against the wall. There aren’t too many comfortable ways to fuck standing up under falling water, but having him press into you from behind is good no matter where you are.

His hands slide over your body and one sinks between your thighs. Immediately parting enough for his hands with a quickness than has him smiling. “You like when I finger you?” He teases. “Rub your sensitive little clit for you?”

“I like every way you touch me.” Your hips roll as if to prove it, searching for the right angle to get his thick fingers to sink inside of you.

“Greedy.” He chuckles softly. “That’s what you are.” He doesn’t pull his hand away, giving you what you want as two fingers slip inside you. “My greedy girl.”

“Can’t blame me for getting addicted.” You moan, forehead pressed against the tile, when his fingers scissor open inside you. “You feel so fucking good baby.”

“You feel better.” He groans quickly, working you open as the hot water rushes over you.

“Made just for you, baby.” If there was ever anyone you could truly feel that about, it’s Marcus. The way he seems to make you feel complete in ways you didn’t know you needed or even wanted is uncanny and beautiful. And the way he fills you to bursting is just as fantastic.

Marcus worships you with small kisses as his fingers move inside you, groaning in your ear about how good you feel. The thick length of him pressed against your ass. “Marcus—” His name is a whine and a prayer with every long stroke of his fingers. “Please, baby. Please fuck me.”

“I’m going to.” He promises, grinding against your ass as he continues to finger you. “Too bad you still have your birth control.” He moans in your ear. “Dreamed about you pregnant last night. Nice and round with my baby.”

“Fuck.” If anyone had suggested pregnancy or breeding or any of those fertility-related kinks to you before Marcus, you might have laughed them out of your bedroom. But in a few short weeks, you’ve got from wanting children but not looking forward to being pregnant — all the way to getting wet at the thought of starting to swell with Marcus’s baby. The impulse to promise you’ll stop taking it tomorrow is right on the tip of your tongue but you know it’s just a touch too soon. “Yeah?” You breathe instead. “You woke up hard to the thought of fucking me full of your baby?”

“Why do you think I was ravenous this morning?” He asks, chuckling at how he had woken you up. He had been a little embarrassed by the dream, so he hadn’t mentioned it at the time, but realized later that it was dumb to keep it from you. “When you’re ready, I’m going to be feral.”

“We need to start building that house now.” You insist, suddenly possessed of a whole new set of reasons to be eager for more privacy.

He chuckles as he nibbles on your shoulder, moving to the hollow of your neck. “Yeah? You want to paint a nursery right away baby?”

“We’re gonna have to if you keep growling about getting me pregnant.” Something which you apparently find far sexier than you anticipated, if the way your cunt throbs and pulses around his fingers is any indication.

"You love the idea." He challenges softly, humming against your pulse. "It's not my fault you're so perfect I can see the future we have in store."

“I love the idea so much I’m ready to say let’s just buy a house.” The throaty laugh you let out burns into a long moan when he curls his fingers inside you. “Need you, baby.”

"Never want you to say that I don't give you what you want." He pushes your feet apart, careful not to let you slip on the slick tile and pulls his fingers out of you to immediately replace them with his cock. A smooth transition planned to keep you from missing the fullness.

There is more freedom here, at least where volume is concerned, and when your moan bounces off the tile it is music to Marcus's ears. The utterly satisfying fullness of having him inside you is indescribable, even if you have tried to find the words several times talking to Syd. Sharp, powerful strokes will work you both up to your peak quickly, letting you enjoy the water that burns as hot as your skin as he pounds into you.

Marcus has learned that going harder is needed sometimes. It’s something that both of you enjoy and lose yourselves in, always making sure that you are still with him with filthy sweet praises in your ear. “My perfect princess.” He groans. “Taking me so well.”

It’s so much filthier coming from such a sweet, unassuming man like Marcus, and he presses you into the wall with a firmness that leaves absolutely no room for questioning. You are his. He is yours. And anything you moan to each other in the throes of passion is fair game. Filth, praise, and everything in between is welcome as your hips slap against your ass and your throat strangled around the endless cries of pleasure.

It’s never been this good. It’s cliched to even think it, but it’s true. He can barely even breathe when you are surrounding him. Drowning in you happily. “Fuck, I love you.” He promises. His hands squeeze and caress before sinking back between your thighs to rub your clit while he continues to fuck you at a frantic pace.

“Love you so — fuck! — so fucking much.” You practically claw at the wall of the shower when the calloused pads of his fingers find your swollen clit and press in on tight circles. Perfect little circles. “So close baby, so fucking close.”

“That’s it.” He groans. “Want you to cum. Want you to soak me. Need it.” He dips his hips lower and changes the angle that he shreds up inside you.

“Fuck—fuck—can’t wait until you’re fucking me full of your babies, oh god—” He’s already an expert at tearing you apart and putting you back together, and this time will be no exception. Your legs shake with it and your belly tightens, coiling at the base of your spine tightening as pleasure rips through you.

“That’s it, fuck, so good, Princess.” He hisses in pleasure. “Cum for me. Fuck, you feel so good squeezing my cock. I love it.” It only takes two or three more sharp snaps of his hips before you’re calling his name, sure that if anyone else is in the house right now they can definitely hear you but too overcome with pleasure and too full of him to care.

When you cum, it’s like your entire soul melt with his. Your heartbeats align and for a split second, Marcus can’t tell where you end and he begins. Perfectly fused together in ecstasy. As soon as you tighten around him, his thrusts ease, still moving but helping you float down from the precipice. “Good girl, fuck baby, you are so good to me.” He pants in your ear. “So good. Giving me everything, aren’t you? Yeah, you are, I can feel it.”

“Fill me up, baby.” Your legs may be rubber at this point but that sensation of his cum painting your inner walls is worth holding out for. It has you rocking your hips back even more than you need to ride the aftershocks of your own orgasm, hoping to bring him to his.

He loves when you say that. Groaning your name as his pace picks back up. The slap of his hips not quite as sharp, but insistent. “Gonna, fuck baby, gonna fill you up.” He moans in your ear. “Drip me all night.”

From the way his hips start to stutter you know he’s close, and you grind back against him with a low moan. “Gonna be dripping your cum while I meet all your friends.”

“Just the way I want you.” He groans, kissing your shoulder and moaning as he pushes deep, throbbing inside you as he fills you up.

There’s nothing but the sound of running water and panting breath for a minute or two as you both collect yourselves, arms wrapped around each other in the best way you can manage while he’s still inside you and you’re leaning on the shower wall. “I love you so fucking much.” You murmur, giggling softly at the giddy feeling still coursing through your veins.

“I love you too.” He whispers, smiling against your shoulder as the soft aftershocks continue to squeeze him as he softens inside you. “Addicted to everything about you.”

“Glad we agree about that.” It isn’t elegant but you twist around and manage to place a kiss on his jaw. “So…breeding kink, huh?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles sheepishly as he slowly pulls out of you. “Sorry. I know that took you by surprise.”

“Not in a bad way.” You promise him, fully turning around now, to put your arms around him before you both have to clean up. “Surprising but…potentially shared?”

“When it actually happens is still one hundred percent up to you.” He assures you, wanting you to know he would never pressure you, no matter how much he dreams about the future. “But shared, huh?”

“Surprise,” you tease, reaching for a washcloth.

“Every day is an adventure with you.” He chuckles and steals another kiss before he turns his attention to getting ready for tonight.

You’re right on time despite taking an overlong shower, arriving at the club in downtown Dallas in time to see a group of his old friends gathered at the bar.

“Hey.” A carefree grin lights up his face, reunited with old friends and their spouses. The band is about to leave to get on stage so it’s quick backslaps and promises to catch up later after he introduces you proudly. They disappear and it seems like all the other crowd around you to all talk about Marcus.

It’s much the same as it was with his cousins. Quick questions about you — or the occasional “That’s why I recognize you!” — but mostly wanting to tell stories about young Marcus in the olden days, teasing their old friend and gauging your reaction to their stories to decide if you’re good enough for him. You don’t mind of course. Your friends would have done the same if they hadn’t already met Marcus before you got together.

“Hey now.” Marcus pouts and protests but it’s all in good fun. He’s enjoying the stories; taking him back down memory lane. He hugs you tighter to him as he laughs at a college age story, where he had imbibed a little too much and made a fool of himself.

“Everyone got drunk and dumb in college at least once, didn’t they?” You hug his side and grin at him while his friends tease and chatter. “And I’m sure you weren’t the only college student in the world to skateboard across campus in boxers and a cowboy hat. I’m just impressed you didn’t fall off the board more if you were drunk.”

“Hammered.” He confirms with a laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know if I would have felt anything that night.”

“All the better that you didn’t get hurt then,” you laugh with him, enjoying these glimpses into the Marcus of the past. “Though I think we should recreate the look. For posterity.”

“Bachelor party.” He grins, leaning in and kissing you on the nose. “One of those boring co-ed ones where the couple is disgusting and can’t be apart for even one night of debauchery.”

“Cause we’re gross in love.” The smile on your face is blinding, lighting you up from the inside out as you beam at him.

“Yes we are.” He agrees, unable to stop himself from kissing you again, as his friends groan playfully around you both.

“Yeah, yeah.” Marcus’s old college roommate huffs good naturedly and rolls his eyes. This is the guy Marcus had lived with before he moved off campus to live with Lara and he’s always known Marcus Pike to be exceptionally lucky in love. “Lucky bastard.”

“I am.” He agrees with a small nod. “I’m honestly surprised that you aren’t already engaged.” One of his closest college study partners snickers as she shoots you a grin. “He always was rushing into things headfirst.”

“Don’t think he didn’t give me a ring right away,” you joke, holding up the shimmering promise ring on your hand. “But we want to keep our heads on straight, so it’s a promise for now and an engagement a little bit into the future.”

“There’s the Marcus we know and love.” She giggles, taking your hand and admiring the ring. “Honey, it’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t it?” The little heart-shaped diamonds wink and shine in the dim lighting of the club and you can’t help but smile proudly. “I told him he set a dangerous precedent with this one. If the promise ring is this beautiful then the engagement ring has to be, too.”

“Knowing Marcus, it’s perfectly designed to set with your promise ring.” She guesses, grinning wildly when he shuffles guiltily. “I knew it!” She throws her arm around his shoulder and smacks a playful kiss on his cheek. “Atta boy!”

“You did not buy it already!” You gasp in shock, giggling with unrestrained joy at the embarrassment and glee on his face.

“It’s safe.” He promises, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t want to risk them not having the perfect mate when I came back.”

“You’re incorrigibly sweet.” The idea that he’d gone so out of his way makes you melt on the spot, with warmth in your cheeks and a fluttering extra beat of your heart. “And I love you.”

His group of friends cheers when you kiss this time. For all the shit they give him, they are all thrill Marcus has found his sweet soulmate. Right then, the lights dim and everyone turns towards the stage. “Marcus Pike.” His eyes widen when the lead singer says his name. “Report to the stage. There is a bass waiting to be played.”

“Oh fuck yes!” When you squeal with absolute pure excitement you grab his side and practically cackle with glee. Even Agent Bailey is smirking in her plain clothes. “Go, baby! Go!”

“Oh my Gooooood.” Marcus groans as he’s practically shoved towards the stage and he shakes his head, pointing his finger at the band. “I hate you guys.” He moans, even as he shuffles closer, but they just grin.

“Best night ever!” You call back, grinning from ear to ear as you make your way to the front with his friends.

“This is going to be amazing.” Hooking her arm through yours, Stephanie grins at you. “Have you ever heard Marcus sing?”

“No.” And you pout about it for about two seconds before the glint returns to your eyes. “He always demurs and says he’s not that great but I know he’s being humble.”

Marcus shrugs out of his leather jacket and winds the strap of the bass around his neck and back to quickly strum a chord before adjusting the tension to his liking. “I’m going to hurt all of you.” He huffs, even if he’s grinning out at you.

“You fucking love us.” The lead singer, his old friend Leo, reminds him with a shit-eating grin.

Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs, not even able to deny it. “Which songs are we doing?” He asks instead.

“Set list is next to your pedal,” Leo tells him, grin only growing bolder when Marcus doesn’t deny anything. He knows his old friend misses playing. They’ve talked about it. Hence this silly little stunt. “Just like riding a bike, right Pike?”

He snorts and looks out at the crowd, his eyes automatically finding you and he smiles. “Yeah.” He scoffs. “If riding a bike means embarrassing the shit out of yourself in front of your soulmate.”

“It absolutely fucking does, dude.” Leo laughs, slapping Marcus on the back before he steps up to the mic to hype up the already excited crowd.

Marcus winks at you from the stage and looks at the lineup. Most of them are songs that they performed when he was in the band and quite a few that he knows Leo knows he knows. Apparently this wasn’t just a last minute deal. As Leo introduces the band, Marcus starts the bass chords for the first song.

It’s not the night you were planning — swaying to the music with Marcus with a cold beer in your hand while his friends played. This is infinitely better. Marcus is in his element up on that stage, showing off and playing to the crowd and making sure he finds your eyes every so often. Surrounded by friends and an enthusiastic audience, you could see Marcus enjoying many more nights like this. It makes you all the more glad that his friends decided to surprise him.

The crowd is a mix of older and younger people, the songs favorites and he enjoys the energy of the people singing along. Finally finished and sweating, in desperate need of a beer, he grins when you clap and yell.

"You are absolutely incredible." The second he hops down off the stage; you're practically jumping into his arms to give him a kiss. "And I never, ever want to hear anything about your singing voice again. That might be the sexiest singing ever."

He laughs, catching you easily and spinning you around. “Think you might be a little biased, Princess.” He teases, feeling euphoric and like he could do anything tonight.

"So?" The giggle that bubbles out of you is nothing short of adrenaline-infused joy. "I'm still right."

“Shit.” The laughter is infectious and he joins you. “I need a beer.” He admits, squeezing you close.

"Allow me." You insist, and when he makes a face you hold up a hand, still grinning. "Groupie's privilege."

“Groupie, huh?” He chuckles again and slides his hand down to your ass. “You have someone in mind?”

"Yeah," you poke his side and laugh, wiggling the fingers of your other hand in his face. "The one wearing the ring."

“Ring?” He glances at your hand and smirks. “That’s a pretty ring baby, but I could do better.” He flirts. “Dump that guy and run away with me. I’ve gotta sweet van and I know how to treat a lady.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"You think you can do better for me than my soulmate?" Batting your eyelashes back at him and half playing along, you tug Marcus toward the bar to get him his drink. "He's pretty amazing."

“I know I can.” He snorts, grinning at your playful banter. “You’ve never been with a musician baby.”

"Hmmm." An amused hum barely smothers your grin and laughter. "I have heard that bassists are experts with their fingering."

“Then you know.” He nods as you both slide up to the bar and Marcus orders a draft. He turns back to you. “My fingers are magic, baby.” He promises. “I can take you to the stars.”

It's too hard for you not to giggle at that, leaning into his side there at the bar. "I did know that already, though."

He breaks the character he was putting on and winks at you. “I was merely playing my favorite instrument.” He leans in and whispers in your ear. “Your pussy.”

"Marcus." Your tone is very false in its admonishment, and you're still grinning when you swat at his arm. "You can play her any time you like."

“Now?” He arches a brow in challenge.

You should have known he would jump on it, and you tilt your head at him with a wide-eyed expression. "I mean...not here but..." Glancing around the room proves that there is little cover to be found, and you bite your lip. "Bathroom?"

Marcus smirks and nods to the bartender when he sets his drink down. “Come on.” He takes your hand and drags you away, unable to even drink his beer in his haste to make you cum.

Practically able to feel the heaviness of Agent Bailey's eyes tracking you across the club, you can't bring yourself to care. Not when the promise of his hands on you is so close you can already feel it.

Normally, Marcus would never do this. Not now. But somehow, being with his own friends and playing, seems to have tapped into the wilder side he had exposed when he was younger. Not thinking like an FBI agent at this moment.

The club has two single-occupant bathrooms in a back hallway, and Marcus shoves open the door to the nearest one to tug you inside. "Holy shit." You're giggling again, bubbling over with it. "We're so lucky Agent Bailey trusts you."

“Amazing what a background check and a security clearance will get you.” He jokes as he pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. He knows he can’t be in here too long with you, it would be rude, but he has to touch you right now. You are just adoring him too much.

It's almost too bad you wore jeans tonight, but you had wanted to keep that feeling of fullness after the shower and truth be told the denim inseam still managed to give you a little stimulation on the way out here tonight. Now Marcus pops the top button open with eager fingers and you whimper softly, biting back the sound so no one in the hall outside hears you.

“Gotta be quiet, Princess.” He coos, smirking at your already lust blown eyes. “Can’t let anyone know you’re fucking a musician in a bathroom, can you?”

You’ve never done anything like this before and he knows that, but with wide eyes and the shivering desire to obey, you nod your head and bite back a needy whine. His hand slides down your panties, finding you slick with new desire and the remnants of his cum covering your lips. He groans your name in your ear and immediately pushes two fingers deep inside you.

It takes effort not to cry out. Not to whimper or moan or keen his name at the sharp, sweet intrusion of two thick fingers deep in your pussy. The vaguely taboo tint of doing something sexual in a public place only makes it better — a surprising feeling that you’ll have to bite for later — and you bury your face in the crook of Marcus’s neck, knowing that it will muffle the little bit of sound that you simply can’t swallow in your own throat. He doesn’t draw it out, doesn’t tease you. Just pumping his fingers deep and twisting his wrist to rub your clit as he tries to see how fast he can make you cum for him.

It’s like being sent up in a rocket, where all you can do is lean back against the sink in the little bathroom and hold on tight. He knows your body, knows how to make you see stars without breaking much of a sweat, and the adrenaline from playing on stage that’s still coursing through him keeps the pace of his fingers thrusting inside you at an almost punishing speed that feels amazing.

It’s like his playing a song with your body. The soft whimper echoing the timing of the beat of his fingers. Kissing along your neck as he pants against your skin. Already throbbing in his pants, but this is for you. “Good girl, baby. You’re so sweet for me.” He groans quietly.

There's not really much you're doing for him right now except keeping quiet and spreading your legs so he can dive inside you, but you'll fix that later. You'll lay him out on his bed and worship him for as long as he will let you. Right now your back arches and you have to let go of your white knuckle hold on the counter in order to tug him closer, pouring the moan that you want to let loose into a kiss instead.

He feels when you let go. Your moan muffled by your tongue as your walls soak his fingers in their pulsing grip. Feeling your heartbeat through the sensitive walls of your pussy. It’s so good and he loves that you are enjoying yourself as the bar music plays loudly.

"Fucking hell..." When you can finally breathe again you look up him with a hazy smile. "I'm gonna give you the best blow job of your life later on," you promise him with a grin.

He smirks as he pulls his wet fingers out of your fluttering cunt and holds them up to the dim light of the bathroom. They are shiny with your slick and he reaches out to your lips. “Open.” He orders.

That was not at all the response you were expecting, but somehow it far sexier because of that, and even though you've just cum you can feel your pussy fluttering at what he wants you to do. It only takes a second before you open your mouth, letting him put his fingers heavily on your tongue before you obediently clean them of any trace of your slick.

Marcus groans quietly, cock twitching in his pants and all he really wants to do is bend you over the sink to fuck you this time, but he can’t. You pop his fingers out of his mouth and he hisses at your innocent look. “Good girl.” His voice is raspy and dripping with lust.

"I feel like I should start calling you something." Leaning up, you steal a kiss and then rebutton your jeans so the two of you can wash up and go back out to his friends. "But I don't know if you wanted to be that kind of dom."

Marcus chuckles as he watches you in the mirror. “So you’re telling me you want a red room in our new house, hm?”

"I'm not gonna be mad about it if you want one," you answer innocently. "I just had the very intense urge to call you...'daddy' a second ago, but I didn't know if you'd like it. That's all."

Marcus has never been in a situation where someone would call him daddy so he has to think about it. “Only one way to find out.” He decides, patting you on the ass as you move out from the sink so he can wash his hands.

"I guess we'll give it a try later then." The air dryer in the bathroom is loud enough to drown out any other conversation, so you finish cleaning up and steal yet another kiss before dragging him back out into the club feeling like you're living on Cloud Nine.

Everyone in the group knows what happened when the two of you disappeared. At least to some degree. They might not believe that it was only an orgasm for you, but the grins are wide and Marcus snorts at the whistling and clapping from the guys. You brush it off with burning hot cheeks and a grin and go to get fresh drinks from the bar. Tonight has been pretty fucking perfect in every way you can think of. The best possible way to say goodbye for now to Texas, although you know you'll be back as often as you can be.

Marcus accepts this beer quickly, feeling parched and he winks at you before he takes a sip. “I think she might want me to find a band in D.C.” he teases.

"Oh, ya think?" Stephanie snorts, leaning into Leo's side when he comes over to join you at a high-top table.

"Actually..." Leo smirks, looking down at his soulmate before he glances up and around the group. "The guys know this already but...there was a big reason we were glad Pike showed up tonight." He tips his beer toward Marcus in salute. "Tonight was the last Dallas show we might ever play."

“Really?” Marcus frowns instantly, looking around to the group. “You guys are gonna stop playing?”

"We're moving in about a month." Leo announces. His arm winds around Stephanie proudly and he squeezes her tight to his side. "Steph got an amazing job at George Washington Hospital. So we're actually moving to DC."

“What?” Marcus sputters and starts beaming. “That’s great!”

"I'm really excited," she admits, smiling even bigger and brighter than Marcus is. "So maybe you won't have to find a new band after all."

“Well, we’d still have to find other members.” He look at the guys. “Until you come out to visit.”

"Maybe we'll all move East." Their drummer, Clark, jokes. He takes a sip of his whiskey and leans on the table. "Y'all know anyone that needs an electrician or a carpenter? I could be persuaded."

“We’re gonna be building a house.” Marcus snorts. “You’re hired.” He’s joking, because he would never make that decision without you, but it’s interesting to think about. Clark is the best damn carpenter he knows.

"Actually..." Tilting your head to look at Marcus beside you, you shrug your shoulders a little and have a sip of your drink. "There's some work that needs to get done at the inn, too. I've been putting it off because my electrician retired last year and finding a new guy is a pain."

His brows lift in surprise and Clark smirks. “Really, tell me about it.” He encourages.

"It's a historical property," you clarify right away, knowing that that scares some people off. Which is fine with you, really. If they aren't comfortable working on historical structures, you're not going to work with them anyway. "Of course things have been updated, but the structure is colonial so it does require a little bit of tender loving care."

“That’s awesome.” Clark snorts. “I love historic structures. Have you rewired the entire building or are you having to replace as you uncover issues?” He asks. “Code has changed so much since knob and tube. And that’s recent in a historic home, depending on how historic.”

"I've only owned the property for a few years, so we're having to play catch up from the previous owner." His enthusiasm is met with plenty of your own, and you look back at Marcus with a wide grin. "You just watch how fast I adopt all your friends. I was not exaggerating about that being what my family does."

Marcus laughs and leans back. “Adopt away, babe.” He encourages you. “You’ll get sick of them quickly.” He teases, laughing again when they all shoot him a finger.

Two days after touching back down in DC, the early morning meeting that you have with your mother and the communications staffer whose job it is to wrangle all things concerning the First Kids means that you’re up and moving before Marcus. You’re essentially having breakfast at the White House, which is less cozy than having coffee and muffins with your soulmate, but this meeting is important. You really do have things to talk to your mother about.

The staffers show you to the less formal dining rooms in the apartment, a rare time the president allows business to be conducted here, but it’s important that you feel comfortable.

The family dining room in the White House residence is still beautiful, and honestly you prefer it to the larger state dining room. The smaller and more casual room makes it easier to convince yourself that it’s just a normal breakfast with your mother today. Agent Bailey blends into the background here, noticeably more relaxed when she is around other agents and not working solo. It’s a good morning for both of you, and you move to the sideboard in the room to make yourself a cup of coffee while you wait for your mother to come in.

The communications staffer comes in and greets you warmly, laying out folders by the plates. “Your mother should be here in a few minutes. She was just in a briefing.”

“How are you, Annette?” The senior staffer that’s joining you is a woman that you’ve known for years. She was also on your mother’s staff in Pennsylvania and she is a good friend of the family after so many years working side by side.

“I’m doing well, how about you?” She asks politely and gives you a warm smile. “Your mother told me about your soulmate, I’m so thrilled for you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you.” There’s going to be a lot more talk about Marcus as this goes on if your mother and Annette accept your proposal, but for now you sip your coffee and smile. “The adjustment to DC hasn’t been too bad for you? Everything’s been okay?” A little small talk before your mother comes in and breakfast gets served is actually nice. With everyone being so busy you feel like there are people you haven’t gotten to talk to in ages.

“It’s always crazy, but we are adjusting well.” She smiles. “Brad isn’t too fond of the traffic, but who is?” She snorts. “I keep threatening to steal a diplomatic plate.” She jokes.

"I'll nab them for you," you promise her, sitting back with your coffee and smiling at the way your promise ring glints in the room's lighting. "They can't fire me from being First Daughter."

She laughs, knowing that you are completely joking but it would be funny to see the headlines. “I’ll expect one then.” She teases, picking up her own coffee to sip.

It takes a few more minutes before your mother comes in, but you and Annette sit and chat and pour second (or third, in your case) cups of coffee.

“I’m sorry, Birdie, Annette.” Your mother rushes over to drop a kiss on your head and throw her arms around her friend’s shoulders briefly. “That took longer than I expected.”

“Everything okay?” You’re wildly aware that there is plenty that your mother deals with that you do not have the security clearance to know about, but that isn’t what you’re asking. You’re asking if your mother herself is okay.

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “But I wish that people would stop trying to impress me with long winded reports going over every minute detail.” She huffs with a laugh. “My favorite briefing is from DIA Agent York. He gives me the bare bones information and it’s over in less than five minutes.”

“Would he consider it a blessing or a curse to be out on the State dinner guest lists in appreciation for his speedy briefings?” You ask, practically snorting a laugh at breakfast is served.

“Knowing the kind of man he is, a curse.” She snorts, appreciating your joke but also because she would never willingly let a man like Dave York around her family unless he was protecting them.

“Well, it’s nice to know that the chaos around here is just normal chaos.” The smile you offer your mother is fully understanding. The inn is your own beautiful area of normalized chaos.

“Of course. Thank you for coming.” She acknowledges that her life, her career isn’t the center of her children’s lives and she doesn’t take for granted when they make time for it outside the normal Friday night dinners. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Mom.” An early morning meeting is a small sacrifice to make, especially when Marcus exhausted you last night trying out a sexy little card game you’d had stashed away since Syd’s bachelorette party a couple of years ago. It’s safe to say he liked the suggestions the game came up with. “There’s coffee, amazing food, and my favourite Mom, why wouldn’t I come? Although Marcus’s mother is pretty great. Solid second place in the Best Mom Ever competition.”

“I wanted to ask you how your week in Texas went.” She admits, pouring her own cup of coffee. It’s her third cup of the day so far, but she’s also been up since four.

“Honestly?” You pause when a staff member sets a plate of hot food in front of each of the three of you and a large platter of pastries and fruit in the center of the table. The chorus of Thank you’s is in unison. “It was fantastic. His parents are great, I got along pretty well with most of his cousins, and even met a bunch of his friends from college. It was…” you grin at The admission forming on your lips. “It was really wonderful. His parents are planning on coming up to visit us here this summer.”

“That’s wonderful.” Your mother lights up and she nods. “We will have to have a family dinner.” She suggests. “Here? Personal tour of the White House? Do you think that would be something they would enjoy? I know his father would probably enjoy a game while he’s here as well.”

“Marcus has season tickets to the Nationals so we’re definitely planning on seeing a game.” The omelets that have been set out in front of you are steaming and you dig in to your plate without hesitation. “I was going to ask you about a tour for them so thank you for jumping on that. And I know they would love to meet you guys. A family dinner would be really great.”

“Marcus is wonderful and I can guarantee that it’s a reflection of his parents.” Your mother hums. “And as your soulmate, I think it’s important that everyone meets and gets along.”

“I know his parents already said they wouldn’t be offended if you were too busy, but I do want you guys to meet.” Donna and Matthew Pike had sworn that they would completely understand if they didn’t see hide or hair of your parents during the trip, but that hadn’t sat well with you. Your parents have always made time for the important things in their kids’ lives no matter how busy they were.

“Absolutely not.” Your mother sounds offended by the idea. “There is no reason, barring a world catastrophe, where we should meet his parents at your engagement party or some other event. “No, if they want to have something low key, we don’t have to meet here. But I am eager to meet them.” She shoots you a grin. “Diplomacy can wait for one evening.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t pass up the chance to have dinner at the White House.” The grin you send your mother is beaming and appreciative. “That’s a bragging right not everyone gets. There will be plenty of informal meals in the future.”

“Then I will try to make sure that the chef makes something that will measure up to the amazing food Sydney will be plying them with.” If it wouldn’t hurt your business, your mother would have hired her to be the White House chef in a heartbeat.

“I will carry that compliment back to her on a silver platter.” Now that all three of you are eating — devouring — your breakfasts, you don’t mind getting into things. Of course your mother doesn’t have all day for this meeting, but you expect to be sitting here with Annette for at least a little while. “So, before I put my two cents in, what kind of social media and press presence were you thinking you might wrangle me into?” You’re curious, after all. Since Junie has a clear passion and Alex is handsome and personable, whatever route they chose for you was bound to be a little different.

“Well, I was hoping that we could show how small businesses are vital for our economy.” Your mother looks over at Annette who is nodding. “You are a small business owner and you work with others as well.”

“Okay.” You nod, mumbling the word as you finish a bite of food. “So highlighting the small businesses we work with? Making visible visits to other small businesses? That kind of thing?”

“I know that you utilize some of the local merchants for your supplies.” Your mother nods. “Maybe some clips of you with them? We can do a voice over with the message we want to sent.”

“I’ll compile a list of who we have good relationships with and you let me know who you want to have footage of?” It’s a big plug for the businesses that you do actual work with, so you can’t imagine any of them objecting. “Patronizing your local small businesses is a message I’m happy to get behind.”

“Corporations have garnered too much power in the country.” Your mother agrees. “We need to find a balance between them and a simpler time where everyone shopped local.”

“Alright, that’s easy enough.” Although you’re sure that other complications will arise in time, agreeing to this plan is at least something you’re glad to do. “Anything else?”

A look is exchanged between Annette and your mother. A pause that should be concerning. “It’s about…your soulmate.” She begins.

“What about him?” You frown instantly, not liking the tone that has been chosen for this thought.

“I was hoping that you might sit for an interview.” Annette is the one who voices it. “For the Love is Love legislation that your mother is trying to get passed.

“Oh!” The hesitation in their voices is nothing to do with Marcus, really, and you relax measurably. “Yes. We can definitely do that. And actually?” Looking between your mother and Annette, wondering what they’ll think of this idea coming from you of all people. “I think I can do you one bigger than that.”

“What do you have in mind, young lady?” Your mother almost smirks at the idea that you are suggesting something.

“I know I’m not the kid you expect this from.” The look on her face says that loud and clear and you completely understand why. “But Marcus and I talked it over, and we thought we would see what you thought about a First Family love story. From engagement to wedding to building a house.”

As a career politician, it’s been a rare time where your mother has been speechless, but she just gapes at you, her mouth slightly ajar in shock. “I— are you sure?”

"I mean we're not offering to have a White House photographer follow us around every second of every day, but we know that things are going to get said about us no matter what. Our family are public figures, and Marcus grew up with a father in the spotlight. We figured that getting ahead of the narrative and giving people honest glances into who we are was a hell of a lot better than people just speculating wildly."

“That is an amazingly gracious idea.” She can understand that you are going out on a huge limb and that is so appreciated. “Are you sure you would be comfortable with that scope?”

"We've talked through it," you tell her, knowing that it's probably unbelievable for her to hear this coming from you. "And I'm more confident when I have Marcus with me. I feel better able to handle the extra sets of eyes on my life. So...I thought it made sense not to waste that."

“I think that would be incredible.” She reaches out for your hand. “Only what you will give us though. No more.” Your father had reminded her right before leaving for her briefing that you are her daughter and probably the most private out of the three children. You don’t crave the spotlight at all.

"Marcus thought we could start with the engagement," you tell her, knowing that this is a big leap for you and trying not to be nervous about it. "But I think I should put something on my social media about him being my soulmate first. Maybe some photos from a date with a small announcement?"

“It will mitigate any issues that might spring up.” She doesn’t mention how there has been chatter about the congressman being unhappy about the demise of your relationship. That’s not your concern.

"Our favorite restaurant is family-owned, and we can pick something to do afterward that is still small business or community oriented." That shouldn't be too awfully hard, considering the DC area is always crawling with choices for things to do. You're spoiled for it, really.

“Whatever you think would be best.” She smiles at you. “While I would normally have one million ideas, I think it’s better if this is organically from you.”

“I know Marcus already has my engagement ring hidden away somewhere.” A fact which makes your cheeks burn and your smile turn a little dopey. “But I don’t know anything else as far as that goes. Is it okay if I give him your email so he can touch base with you, Annette?”

“Absolutely!” Annette agrees immediately, while your mother looks impressed that your soulmate has already bought your engagement ring. More importantly is your reaction to that information, you look dreamy eyed and she couldn’t be more happy for you. “I must applaud Marcus for thinking ahead.” Your mother hums, taking a small sip of her coffee to hide her smile.

“We’re both thinking ahead.” A fact which gives you no end of pleasure. The flight back from Dallas had been spent in dreams and future plans, cuddled together looking out the window and making up a list of big and small things you wanted for your future together. “We’re starting to plot out what we want for our house, too. That’s the timeline that’s going to take the longest.”

“Your house?” You had mentioned it before, but your mother ticks her head to the side curiously.

“We’re going to build,” you explain, reaching for a scone from the plate of pastries on the table. “Since the land that the inn is on is more than enough and I own all of it, we’re going to use a portion at the back of the acreage to build a house.”

“That sounds like an adventure.” She’s always known you enjoy doing things your way and it’s refreshing to see that apparently your soulmate understands how much of your being is invested in the inn.

“It’s going to feel like a mansion after sharing my apartment in the inn.” After a little discussion, Marcus had decided that he would rather share the smaller space with you while the house is being built and sublet his current place to Clark — ensuring that his friend can have the new start in DC that he wants. “But we’re excited. It’s a whole lot of planning and big steps forward all at once, and for once I really have a partner who’s on the same page as me.”

“That’s the most important thing.” She knows this from experience. There is absolutely no way she would be the current president if your father hadn’t been on the same page as her as far was what their lives might look like. It’s something she’s always wanted for all of you.

“So…I know it’s more than you were going to ask of me.” Which you appreciate. Your mother recognizing and honoring your boundaries is something she had to work on a lot when you were in your teens and twenties. You look at up her and crack a small, bashful grin. “But it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity for something as uplifting and positive as a White House wedding.”

“A White House wedding?” Your mother’s gasp is surprised, honestly believing you would never even entertain an idea like that. “Are you- you’re joking right? It’s not April Fools Day. That was days ago.”

“I am not joking.” Although you can definitely see why she would be shocked. This is not a decision that you made quickly or easily — or alone. “But I do have an ulterior motive,” you admit, wanting there to be full transparency. “I am hoping that a super-secure and publicly documented White House wedding is a trade off for letting us go on our honeymoon alone.”

She doesn’t even glance at Annette. “Absolutely.” Your mother immediately insists. “There is no way I would want any kind of publicity for your honeymoon. You don’t even have to negotiate for that.” It’s honestly alarming that you think she might want you to do something for her political career on your honeymoon.

“Oh, that isn’t what I meant,” you clarify immediately, seeing naked distress in your mother’s face when she’s normally so good at staying neutral. “I meant…without my Secret Service detail. Give Agent Bailey and Agent Sisson a few weeks off while we go overseas. Marcus is very well trained and definitely enough to keep just two of us safe.”

Her expression eases slightly, relieved that’s not what you are talking about and she nods. “I think that will be entirely appropriate.”

“I’m optimistic that we can make sure this works for everyone.” Sitting in your seat in the family dining room, you lean back with a little extra confidence — bolstered by the fact that you know Marcus is with you every step of the way, just like your family. “Make this happy, and exciting, and something to look forward to.”

“Whatever you want.” Your mother agrees. “Whenever you want.” She adds. “I don’t want you pushing up plans for us, sweetheart.”

“We said we wanted to get started on the house before we get engaged,” you tell your mother, though you have to appreciate her insistence here. Plenty of other parents would hack the timeline if they were in her shoes. “So it will depend on how quickly we start in on those plans.”

“And Marcus wants to stay at the inn while you build?” She asks, lifting a brow in surprise. While she has seen your little apartment and thinks that it’s darling, Sam had always insisted it was too small to share space for even more than a day.

“We talked it through and he feels like it’s more important for me to be close to the inn than for his commute to be shorter. He’s going to sublet his current place to a friend that wants to move up from Texas and then the friend can take over the lease when it comes up. We’ll have a little less space than we would if we stayed in his apartment, but we don’t mind close quarters.” A fact which you will not look bashful about right now…no not at all…

“That’s a very solid plan that you have laid out.” Annette compliments. “It seems like you and your soulmate have made a lot of plans.”

“Right now I’d call it our favorite hobby.” Second favorite, but you’re not talking about your sex life in front of your mother…

The president snorts and rolls her eyes as she reaches for another scoop of fruit. “Sure.”

“Anyway.” Forcibly getting the conversation back on track seems like a smart idea. “Annette is my point person, then?”

“Yes.” Your mother takes the hint with a small smile. “I reasoned you would be more comfortable with her than any of the new staff.”

“And I appreciate that.” You offer both your mother and Annette a grateful smile. “Especially since this is going to involve my soulmate, I’m very glad to have someone that I know and trust working with us.”

“I am eager to meet him.” She hadn’t been present at the state dinner, she had been sick, but from what she can tell she will like him.

“Why don’t you come by the inn and have dinner with us sometime in the next week or two?” You suggest, figuring that would be nicer than a formal sit up in an imposing setting. “Something casual for the first time you meet? So we can all relax a little.”

“That sounds perfect.” Annette knows the value of an informal meeting. It often creates a better mood for the entire interaction.

"Awesome." Having everything moving in a comfortable direction is as much as you could ask from this meeting, and it's nice to see your mother semi-relaxed at the start of a workday. "Well, I'm sure you have eighty-seven things to do today Mom, so I won't keep you."

She winces apologetically and looks at her watch. “I’m actually about three minutes late for a cabinet meeting.” She admits, standing up to move over and kiss your forehead again. “Are you and Marcus coming to dinner on Friday?”

"We'll be there with bells on," you promise her. "Go get to your meeting. I love you, and tell Dad I love him too."

“I will, sweetheart.” She promises. “Annette, I will see you later. Take your time finishing breakfast.”

The unfortunate truth is that the dinner with Annette might be necessary sooner rather than later. Within a bare twenty-four hours of the White House Easter Egg Roll and the official photos that refer to Marcus Pike as your soulmate, the commentary on social media and in online tabloids begins.

Marcus frowns as he opens the new story. It’s not uncommon for articles to be inflammatory, he knows that from the state dinner, but this is all but calling you a cheating liar. “Fuck.” He growls, eyes narrowing on the wording from the ‘anonymous source’.

"What's wrong?" Your nose is stuck in the schedule for next week while dinner is in the oven and you sit with Marcus in the living room, but you glance up when he sounds unhappy.

Marcus sighs and turns his phone towards you so you can read the headline. “I hate to accuse anyone, but this fucking sounds like your favorite congressman ex.”

"Sounds more like your ex, if you ask me." Vanessa might look sweet and innocent, but she can be cutthroat and single-minded in her goals when she sets herself to it. Something she learned from her justice father. "Think they're getting their jollies going after us together?"

“Shit- you think?” He ended things on a good note with Vanessa. Actually, she broke up with him, why would she smear his name?

"I don't know what her motive would be besides trying to get under Sam, but I wouldn't be surprised by it." Leaning forward to read the beginning of the article on his phone, you still frown. "I knew somebody was going to try saying we cheated, but damn."

“We know the truth.” Marcus frowns as he rereads the article. “This seems to imply that we are lying about being soulmates.�� He looks over to you with a small grin. “That’s proven easily enough.”

"Hmm." That does make you smile, and you look up at him from behind your laptop. "Are you thinking we should stage a little photo on my social media as a response?"

“Absolutely.” He’s not thrilled about the tattoo you both share, but it’s solid evidence of your connection. “Your reputation won’t even tarnish a little.”

"I'm sure I'll get some snide comments about the kind of tattoo we share, but that's on me." You shrug at the truth of it. "I definitely should have gotten it somewhere else."

He laughs and shrugs. “Doesn’t make a difference now.” He reminds you. “It’s on both of our skin, so it’s proof. You’ve had it for years and so have I. Should we post new pictures and old ones with the tattoos?”

"We can do a little album on my Instagram." The suggestion is a welcome one, but it does mean you push your laptop away and set it on the coffee table to snuggle a little closer to him. "You have old photos with the tattoo in them?"

“I do.” Marcus chuckles. “But….” He shrugs. “They were taken by my ex-wife. She’s not in them.” He assures you.

“That’s fine.” Frankly, if Lara gets involved in the conversation it will just reinforce the fact that Marcus has had your marks for a very long time. “I can bribe Agent Sisson to be our photographer for a photo that has both of us in it.”

“And how do we want to casually set up pictures of our lower backs?” He asks with a grin.

“There’s nothing casual about what we’re doing.” You tuck yourself into his side and grin. “This is answering a call out.”

“To address any unfounded and untrue rumors….” He captions with a snort. “Straightforward. I like it.”

"If we wanted to do this casually, I would just say we should go take some pool pictures." You glance up at him, seeing what he thinks of that. "Violating my mom's no bikini rule for a good cause."

“I like bikini’s.” He agrees immediately, his eyes darkening slightly with lust.

"Oh yeah?" The smirk on your face is nearly instant. "Like we should take a tropical vacation level of like?"

“Like you need to book one immediately.” He huffs. “Texas didn’t count as a vacation.”

"Of course it did!" The fact that he's getting all bent out of shape imagining you in a bikini when he sees you naked on a daily basis is adorably, quite frankly. "And you can't even claim it wasn't sexy. We nearly broke that bed."

“Of course we did.” He laughs. “It’s old and we are horny.” He teases, biting his lip as he pulls you close. “But in a bikini, it’s so much less clothing to take off you.”

"You wouldn't even have to take it off." He's getting ideas and you turn your face up to smirk at him, fully encouraging those ideas to take form. "Just shove it aside. Nothing else needed."

“Fuck.” He hisses, clenching his jaw and imagining fucking you on a beach somewhere.

"Gonna keep that imagine in the spank bank, babe?" You can't help but tease him a little, knowing that you would be reacting exactly the same way if it was Marcus teasing you. But you started it this time so you get to tease.

“Fuck yes, I am.” He snorts. “We would get arrested. But it would be worth it.”

"There's a private beach where we could get away with it somewhere." Leaning up to press a kiss to Marcus's cheek, you're still grinning. "Good to know it's on the fantasy list, though."

“Very high up there.” Marcus admits with no shame. Just the freedom to explore these ideas with you is amazing, even if they are never acted on.

"I think..." The only thing that keeps you from shifting into his lap is the kitchen timer going off from the oven. Instead of climbing on to him you just climb off the couch to get to the baked pasta you put together right before Marcus got home from work. "That maybe we should do half the honeymoon in Paris and the other half on the Riviera? Get some swimsuit time in?"

“I like the way you think.” Marcus chuckles quietly, nodding. “How long are we talking? A few days in each place? A week?”

"A week each?" You pull him up from the couch to come to the kitchen with you. There's still a table to set and wine to pour, and all that good stuff. "Two weeks in France sounds like magic."

“I agree.” He grins and grabs the bottle of wine you had set out. It’s become a routine to have a glass with dinner and he enjoys the selection the inn has, although it annoys you that he insists on paying you for the wine.

"A big, beautiful wedding. Two weeks in Paris. A lovely house for us to move into." Every time you think through the plans you're starting to make for the future, they sound better and better.

“That sounds perfect to me.” Marcus admits, smiling softly at the idea. “Have you thought about the style ideas I sent you?”

"I was showing your Pinterest board to Syd on our lunch today." The collection of Dutch Colonial, Queen Anne, Georgian, and Federal style houses that Marcus had put together to share with you is full of so many ideas that you had lost track of time in the kitchen and was almost late to interview a new member of the housekeeping staff. "She likes the Queen Anne style Victorians, of course."

“Of course she does.” Marcus grins as he lifts a brow. “Which one of those were you most interested in?” He doesn’t really mind what architectural style your home is in, as long as you are happy with the result.

Having decided that the edge of the property where you planned to build was far enough from the inn and her out buildings that you didn’t need to be loyal to the colonial structures, you have a little more freedom to choose what you build. “I think I like the Georgian houses you sent me best,” you tell him, setting down two plates of baked pasta in the table at your customary seats. “It complements the colonial style without being obsessive about matching, and it’s not overly complicated.”

“That’s a good choice, and it still fits with the overall theme of the property.” Marcus agrees. “However…one thing I think is a must in our new house.”

“What’s that?” The two of you settle down and pick up your forks, comfortable in the relative quiet of the apartment while Agent Bailey takes one of her occasional walks around the grounds.

“We have to have an elevator in our house.” He’s gotten used to the elevator at the inn and can’t imagine living without one now.

“Non-negotiable?” You tease, knowing that on the nights he goes to the gym after work he groans his way into the apartment on principle. “Noted. You will have your elevator.”

“Thank God.” He dramatically moans and tosses his head back. “Getting older sucks. You’ll see.” He teases about the age gap, but it’s only seven years. “Heartburn is about to start.”

“I was more thinking of our kids,” you admit quietly, poking your fork into a big bite of sausage and zucchini and pasta together. “What if one of them needs the house to be accessible?”

“That thought had crossed my mind.” Marcus agrees. “But we will pray that all our children will be healthy, prepare in case they are not.”

“No matter what, they’ll be cared for and loved.” That, at least, you can both guarantee.

“Plus it will be easier when someone undoubtably breaks a leg.” Marcus snorts, laughing slightly. “It seemed like it was a contest in my family who would break a bone first every year.”

“Kids are gonna be clumsy,” you joke, pointing your fork at him in teasing accusation. “Got it.”

“But they will make up for it with good looks and charm.” He grins back at you and winks.

First Princess Cheating Scandal is the headline splashed across the tabloid on the magazine rack, and your hand twitches before reaching for it. This is the bullshit you absolutely hate about being in the public eye, and now that they’ve started coming for Marcus you hate it even more. The article inside claims that you faked your matching marks — including your scars, which is possible but extremely far fetched — and that you’ve been sleeping together since at least the night of the State dinner.

With another one of those dinners on the horizon and the weariness in your bones over now spending multiple weeks of time on this stupid non-issue, you pay for the magazine and continue on to the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building with it shoved in your purse. Agent Bailey’s advice had been to let it roll off your shoulders because people are always going to gossip, but as much as you’d like to do that it’s possible this might affect your mother’s image. Or your business. Your previously fully booked inn has had multiple cancelled reservations since this whole thing started.

So you walk on, with the little treats you made in a container in your purse and Marcus’s favorite midafternoon coffee order from the shop around the corner to surprise him at the office.

Marcus is pouring over a case when you knock on his office door. He doesn’t keep it closed, preferring to let his team come to him whenever. To feel like they can. Looking up, he sees you and immediately smiles. “Birdie.” He almost said Princess, but since the beginning of this entire ‘scandal’ non-scandal thing, it’s kind of soured the nickname. Immediately abandoning the file, he stands up and rushes around to give you a kiss. “This is a welcomed surprise.”

“I did a little baking with Syd this afternoon and the results were so good that I couldn’t wait to share.” The kiss is a comforting balm, even if it’s short, and you hold up the cup in your left hand. “And I brought your coffee.”

He groans in appreciation, of both the baked goods and the caffeine. “I was just about to get another cup from the break room, but this is better. His hand slides around your back and he rubs it soothingly, seeing the pinch of upset around your eyes but he wants you to talk to him naturally. “Want to come inside? Share it with me?”

You nod and step inside, your own cup from the coffeeshop clutched in your other hand. It’s herbal tea, though. Caffeine didn’t seem like a good idea when you’re already anxious. “Agent Bailey is in the bullpen, I hope you don’t mind.” Now that you’re in a relationship with a well-trained and fully competent federal agent, your Secret Service detail tends to be a bit more relaxed about giving you space.

“Not at all.” Marcus insists, guiding you over to the little couch in his office. “Rodriguez will show her where the donuts are.” He snickers.

“So…” he sits down beside you and you pull a small container of Madeleines out of your oversized purse to offer to him, but the magazine is sitting just underneath and it makes your eyebrows pinch together all over again. “We walked past a news stand on the way here and…saw a new headline.”

“Oh no.” Marcus sighs, he takes the container but sets them aside to give you his full attention. “Bad?”

“Not great.” With a resigned sigh, you pull the magazine out of your bag and hand it over for Marcus to inspect. Under the headline is the now-famous shot of the two of you dancing together and the article inside includes a paparazzi shot of the two of you grocery shopping alongside one torn from your social media of a date night.

He winces at the headline and huffs, opens it, flipping to the article and skimming it. “I want to really get this ‘anonymous source’ into a fucking interrogation room.” He growls, growing more and more upset at the outright lies that are being insinuated. “But it’s fucking hard to be sleeping with you when security from Vanessa’s building has me showing up on a timestamped tape.”

“Agent Bailey was less than thrilled with the accusation that she would lie about anything out of loyalty. You might have to fight her for that interrogation.” Shaking your head as he puts down the magazine, you’re craving his warmth and security enough that you lean in on the couch beside him. “I had an idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it,” you admit quietly.

“What is it?” He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, wanting to protect you from all this. He feels guilty, like you would be better off if your connection hadn’t been acted on.

“It’s….a little dramatic.” You can admit that, too. Although at this point you feel like a dramatic response isn’t uncalled for.

It might be necessary, in Marcus’s opinion. He nods and hums while waiting for you to continue.

“How would you feel about having another tattoo?” The question is posed carefully, quietly, but you had been considering it all the way over and bandied it back and forth with Agent Bailey during your walk. While extreme, it would certainly put all doubts to rest to share a video of you getting a new tattoo and having it appear just seconds after being finished, fully formed on Marcus’s skin.

“No gang or face tattoos.” Marcus jokes, shrugging slightly. “I’ve got no problem if you want to get a tattoo, sweetheart.” He decides. “But I don’t want you to do that simply to prove that we are soulmates. We don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I know it’s not owed.” That thought had never even crossed your mind, actually. “But I want this put to rest and something small that we decide on together would be a nice mark to share under almost any circumstance.” Shrugging a little, you take a sip of your tea and sit back. “It’s just a thought. Obviously I’m not going to just go off and do this on my own. That’s the opposite of the point of it.”

“No, I’m not opposed to it.” Marcus protests softly. “I just want to make sure it’s not from a place of insecurity.”

“Even if we weren’t soulmates, I would think it was sweet to have matching tattoos,” you tell him honestly, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment when your mind was chaotic just a half hour ago.

“What kind are you thinking of?” He asks softly, smiling as you lean against him. He enjoys the warmth of moment. The quiet comfort of you with him.

“I haven’t come up with anything brilliant.” Or even anything original. You had mostly been waiting to talk to him about it. “But something small, that’s reasonably discreet? Behind the ear or on the ankle or something like that? Even the wrist, so you could cover it with your watch when you want. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“What about a little flower?” Marcus offers. “Behind the ear. I can cover that with my hair if I need to, and it can be your favorite bloom.”

“That sounds completely adorable.” The smile you have for him is beaming, feeling the way your heart bursts at his absolute acceptance and support. The love that radiates off him even in something as simple as knowing how much you love flowers.

“I thought you would like that.” He admits, tapping just behind your ear. “And you are so sensitive when I kiss right here. Especially when I’m inside you.”

“That’s mostly because you’re inside me.” Even though your cheeks burn with it and you slide down a little against his side, you’re still beaming at him. “If we’re going for things that enhance sensitivity then maybe I’ll have to look into piercings,” you tease.

“Don’t tease.” He pouts, twitching under the proper suit. “I can’t think about those kinds of things and be expected to work.”

“Oh, would you like if I had secret piercings?” You raise one eyebrow in interest, surprised to hear such an enthusiastic response to the passing idea.

“Piercings are hot.” Marcus would never deny that. “If you wanted to get some, I would support you completely. Enthusiastically.” He teases with a grin.

You hum at him, intrigued enough by the thought to actually heavily consider it, just imagining his face seeing them and how eager he would be to play with them. “That would be a very personal gift for my soulmate.”

Yes it would be. Marcus hums, trying and failing to hide a small smirk. “Personal is good.” He agrees, “but don’t feel like that’s something I have to have. If you want it, that’s one thing.”

"It's something to think about." It's no secret to him that you like things that mark you as his – your soulmate marks, of course, but your promise ring and occasionally wearing a piece of his clothing as well. Piercings might be something only he would see, but that just makes it all the more meaningful.

“Hmmmmmm.” He chuckles and nods his head. “It is. But I don’t think you came all the way down here to just fill my head with dirty thoughts.”

"I came down to surprise you with coffee and tell you that I love you." When he cocks his head slightly, you end up grinning. "I might have a little date night planned for you tonight. The caffeine has ulterior motives."

"Oh really?" He perks up, smiling slightly as he looks over at you in utter surprise. "So I need to make sure I'm home on time tonight?"

"Actually?" His delight is gratifying, and you squeeze his arm gently at your waist. "I'm taking you right from here. Our night is in the city."

"Kidnapping me, hmmm?" He grins widens and he bites his lip. "What does Agent Bailey think of such activities?"

"Oh, she helped me plan it." And she seemed to have fun with it, too, which made the little diversion even better. "Even made our dinner reservation for us."

"Wow." Marcus makes an impressed face. "That was a plot twist I didn't expect." he laughs. "Am I allowed to know any details or just show up and look pretty?"

"Just be your handsome self when I come back at five to pick you up." You stretch up to kiss his cheek, glad that he seems to be looking forward to tonight and hadn't been looking forward to just going home. "I'm going to scoot home, finish some paperwork, and get all dolled up for you."

"Bring me back an outfit?" Marcus asks, turning pleading eyes on you. "It can be another suit, I just want to freshen up too. Look my best."

"I'll bring something devastating but understated." That isn't hard considering Marcus's wardrobe is extremely well curated, but you still like to pay him the compliment as you pull yourself back to standing. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, babe."

He can’t help but grin a little more, your compliment making his shoulders lift confidently. “I’ll see you soon.” He promises, pressing his lips to yours in the office where there’s privacy, although he will walk you to the elevator.

"I love you." That is for the privacy of his office too, but only because it comes with such a doe-eyed look from you that it's nearly obscene.

“I love you too, Hummingbird.” He promises, the same sappy look in his eyes as he turns to guide you out of the office. His hand rests on your lower back, over the tattoo.

Unfortunately, no date night photos or other positive presence on your social media is enough to combat the now growing accusation and rumors surrounding your soulmate status. It's only two weeks after first presenting the idea to Marcus that you're both sitting in a tattoo studio with the artist that did a beautiful flower tattoo for Sydney's sister AnnaLeigh.

Marcus had asked Juan to come and film the entire thing, so it couldn’t be said that it was spliced together. Although he was sure that comment was coming. Some people couldn’t be pleased no matter what, they didn’t want to believe there was an innocent reason for them being together.

The simple design would not take long to ink into your skin, and the artist helped Juan set up two chairs so that both you and Marcus could be in the shot to capture the instant the finished tattoo appears on Marcus’s skin. The entire video would be shared on your social media, audio included, so you had had to work up the nerve to even just chat with Marcus on camera. Sharing another mark with him isn’t stressful at all, it’s letting the public so deeply into your personal life that is.

“I like the design.” Marcus sits down on the other side of you and takes your hand. “You should have let me do the tattoo this time.” He jokes. “I don’t know what it feels like.”

“We can switch if you want to?” You’re nervous, and he knows it. Not for getting the tattoo, but from everything that has been going on.

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. Whatever you want to do.” Marcus wouldn’t take this experience from you if you want it.

“It’s small,” the artist assures you, seeing anxiety in her clients. “And behind the ear doesn’t hurt very much for most people. I had one woman nearly fall asleep on the table because she liked the humming and the soft vibrations.”

Marcus can handle a little bit of pain. You know that. A tattoo is nothing compared to broken limbs or the incident when he was undercover and was shot — which had sent you in a flurry of cooing and coddling for about three days when he first told you about it. Tattooing is the kind of pain that some people find pleasurable, so you squeeze his hand and nod. “Why don’t you give it a shot? You might decide you like it and we’ll end up here all over again.”

“Is that alright with you?” Marcus asks the tattoo artist, knowing they might not appreciate a change of clientele.

“Fine with me.” She nods as she sets up her tray. “I have both of your information on file and believe it or not this happens a lot. Soulmates come in with a design they’ve chosen but they’ll change their mind at the last minute about which one of them will actually being sitting for it.”

Marcus chuckles and turns you both so he can sit down in the chair. “We’ll both be wearing it anyway.” He agrees. “So I don’t mind experiencing it.”

“I’ve never been shot but I guarantee it hurts less.” You move to let him sit in the artist’s chair and situate yourself by his side.

Marcus chuckles as the tattoo artists eyes widen. “I’m a federal agent.” He explains quietly. “It was just a flesh wound, but she thinks it’s impressive.”

“It is impressive!” And you’re just going to keep telling him so over and over until he caves, but right now you just throw a pout at him to make him laugh.

Marcus gives you the laugh and turns his head to the side, staring at you. “Still not as impressive as you are beautiful.” He murmurs softly, although the video picks it up.

“I love you, too.” The bashfulness in it is only because you weren’t expecting that kind of compliment right now — as the artist about to permanently ink Marcus’s skin is making sure she has everything she needs on her tray. You lean into his side and tip back your head, nothing but pure love in your eyes right before they slip shut at the brief press of your lips to his.

Marcus hums, an automatic sound that comes out of him when you kiss him. Excited that you are as free with your kisses as he is, it’s liberating to indulge whenever the urge strikes you. When you pull back, he grins. “Now I’m ready.”

"Go ahead and lean forward." Sitting down on her stool, the artist beckons Juan over with the camera for the best angle to watch the action and still have you in the shot. "And here goes nothing."

The first touch of the needle nearly makes Marcus jump. He barely resists the urge and then laughs quietly, trying not to move too much. “This is kind of ticklish.” He admits.

"Then it already hurts less than the one I got," you tease, glad that the experience isn't painful for him. Watching him giggle about it and knowing it's being filmed is downright endearing.

“I’m sorry.” Marcus apologizes, even though he has nothing to be sorry for. “I wish your experience was better.” He snorts after he says it. “Maybe not, or I might be covered in ink.”

"It wasn't bad, but it was definitely more than a tickle." The grin you shoot him, though, is knowing. "If you end up liking this so much tonight, we might be covered in ink because of you instead."

“Only areas that can be respectfully covered.” He teases you, sending you a wink as the artist continues to carefully work behind his ear.

"Sounds like a plan," you toss him a smirk in return and the set of you grow quiet after another round of low laughter, so the only sound in the room becomes the resilient buzz of the artist's needle.

Marcus could probably fall asleep if the noise didn’t vibrate in his head. He smiles at you, squeezing your hand gently. “After this, we will have to go get that cream to keep it clean.”

"We can get a Tattoo Goo kit before we leave the shop." His hand is in yours and you squeeze it reassuringly. "It's going to be tender for a bit, but it won't take too long to heal."

“I’m sure you will be completely cuddly as I heal.” He snickers quietly.

"I think having a cuddly girlfriend is mandatory for the healing process," you tell him seriously. At this point you've completely forgotten Juan is here for any other reason besides moral support. Forgotten about the phone in his hands being a camera and the fact that this video will become public for the world to see. This is just a moment between you and your soulmate. And a sweet one, at that.

“You should have seen me when the scar from your appendix showed up.” He snorts. “I was upset that my soulmate was hurt.”

“We were kids.” Sure he’s older than you, but you were so young when you had appendicitis. “Did it really worry you that much?”

“Yeah.” Marcus admits, not ashamed of that in the least. “Not knowing what happened, I kept imagining horrible things. Waited for other scars to possibly show up for at least a week.”

“If you had scarred from your broken leg or when you hurt your shoulder, I probably would have felt the same way.” It’s less of an admission from you and more of a confirmation, telling him in no uncertain terms how much you have always cared about his well-being. “Which is still your gunshot wound is such a big deal.” One of your fingers digs into his arm playfully. “That scared the crap out of me.”

“Well, now if I get shot, you can baby me right away.” He teases. “And tell the plastic surgeon to make the scar invisible.”

"I don't mind wearing your scars." The thought comes out quieter than you mean for it to, holding Marcus's hand tightly in yours. "I'm proud of you. And proud to wear your marks, no matter how many of them there are."

“Hopefully not too many more.” He hopes, smiling at you. “But I’m proud to wear your marks too, Hummingbird.”

The session doesn’t last too much longer. Marcus has a high pain tolerance but the tattoo mainly just tickles him, making him grin and laugh as he chats with you and with the artist for the last few minutes. When she pronounces him done and stands back, there is a moment of silence before the permanence of the piece takes hold on him and transfers instantly to your skin.

A sharp intake of breath at the momentary pain is how you know it has happened, and you glance over at Marcus — and Juan with your phone — just absolutely beaming with happiness. “Does it look as good on me as it does on him?”

Marcus inspects the area, forgetting the camera is even on and recording. He leans in and presses a kiss to the tattoo. “It looks even better, Princess.” He promises with a smile.

______

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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