#ask keri a question | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wardenparker · 3 months

Text

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 4

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.5k 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* Family dynamics that contain debating as a method of communication, heavy familial expectations, changing relationships, talk of pregnancy and childbirth. Summary: A family dinner at the White House, a meddling best friend, and the mysterious case of the missing Congressman. Notes: Shout out to Keri for making me unexpectedly bawl about three-quarters of the way into this chapter. Thanks for that, babe. As usual, sorry for an errors I might have missed and thanks for reading!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

It isn’t unusual for a family to sit down to dinner together during the week. If you’re a busy family, living scattered about in different places, even a once-a-week dinner is worth scheduling. But when you’re the First Family, it gets a little complicated. The food is always amazing. That isn’t up for debate. And it is nice to actually see your mother when she isn’t surrounded by a swarm of staff or on a television screen. Alex and June are great too, when they aren’t being absolute pains in the asses. The only thing you’re hoping is that no one asks you about Sam at dinner tonight.

Family dinners always occur in the residence, around the long wooden table that is a substitute for the one you had grown up sitting around. No press, no phones at the table and the only interruptions that are allowed during this time is a matter of national crisis. Everything else can wait. It's why your mother is a successful politician while balancing her family, she gives everything its proper time. "So a little birdy told me that your inn is booked solid for the next few weeks." She looks over at you with a proud smile, aware that you work incredibly hard to make your vision, your dream, a success.

“Through April.” You nod, finishing a bite of food. The White House chef takes his chicken Marsala very seriously and it’s so good that you can’t get enough of it. “It never fails. People are always excited to see the cherry blossoms.”

“Will you still be able to attend the State dinner?” Although it was more a mandatory invitation, she would understand if you couldn’t break away. After all, she has a very demanding job as well.

“Of course.” Not aware that you had had any choice in the matter, you get smirked half-glances from your siblings that tell you they would try to get out too, if they could. “Although…I do have a question about that.”

She looks up from cutting her chicken, your father looking up from his glass of wine curiously. “What is that?”

“I know that it’s only a week away, so I am not asking for anything besides clarification.” Something about your parents’ reaction makes you feel like you need to say that out loud. Otherwise you might be up for one of your family’s famously endless debates. “Has the seating arrangement already been done so that all of us,” you motion to yourself and your two younger siblings. “Have a plus one?”

“Of course.” Your father has been the one handling the details of the State dinner and has meticulously planned the family seating arrangement. “Why?”

“Just double-checking. It’s the first State dinner, after all. I just want to make sure it goes smoothly.” It doesn’t matter that you were desperately hoping he would say no, or instantly offer to rearrange the seating chart if needed, or literally anything else that would get you out of having to have an uncomfortable conversation with Sam after barely talking to him at all the last few days. Maybe you could ask Juan to…Nope. There’s a rehearsal dinner at the inn that night. Shit.

“Good.” He smiles and gives you a knowing look. “I did not place Sam and you near too many political adversaries.” He snorts. “He won’t spend the entire night in a debate.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, Dad. Thanks.” There is a solid chance Sam would prefer that over the stony silence between the two of you, but you can’t say that. Not with your mother at the table. It will turn into a full-blown debate over what has gone wrong in your relationship and how to fix it, and you don’t need your meddling siblings to have that kind of ammunition on you. “So,” you turn to them instead. “Alex? Junie? You guys have dates?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I’m bringing Dave, since he wants to go into law school.” He huffs. “He wants to intern with one of the senators.” Junie just shrugs. “Not yet.” She murmurs, bored by the idea of the dinner at all.

“Dave gets to come to a State dinner?” Your brother and his boyfriend generally keep things under wraps, and it works well since they’ve been best friends since they were kids. Like the gay male version of you and Sydney except they became a couple. “That’s sweet, Al. Maybe he’ll actually get you to behave yourself.”

“Never.” He flashes you a grin, making your mother huff in exasperation and amusement.

“No potential guest on the horizon for you, Junebug?” Your father asks, looking to his youngest child on the other end of the table.

“I’m either going to have someone want to go so they can rub elbows with politicians and brag they went to the State dinner, or be completely bored out of their minds.” She shrugs. “So I don’t know if I want to ask anyone.”

“Is that even an option?” You’re really trying not to make it sounds like you’re hoping for a yes, but you are. To be told you can go solo would solve every single one of your problems at the moment.

“We cannot have empty chairs.” Your father shakes his head. “Junie, if you don’t pick someone, we will have to find a filler.”

“Do you want me to ask Dave to bring his brother?” Alex offers, always only helpful to the baby of the family. “Noah can dance, doesn’t care about politics, and you can bitch about college the whole time of you want.”

“Please?” Her eyes turn hopeful and she knows that will be better than some filler guest.

“You got it.” Alex grins and flashes that thousand watt smile at your parents. “See? Problem solved.”

“Thank you.” Your father looks relieved and your mother gives him a smile before cutting into her chicken again. “Happy to have that settled.” She hums.

Settled. Ugh. If you weren’t about to turn thirty, you would be pouting at the table. Instead you let discussion float by, as your father double checks that all three of you have your White House approved outfits for the night and you’ve managed to memorize all the facts and statistics on the Spanish royal family that were handed out by your mother’s staff.

The dinner moves on to dinner dessert and the dinner plates are changed for wonderful pots of chocolate lava cake, a back up dessert for the State dinner for anyone with a gluten intolerance or nut allergy.

“This is amaaazing.” June groans, ever the chocolate fanatic.

“It is delicious.” Your mother agrees. “Rich.” She looks over at your father. “You said this was gluten free?”

“Hard to believe isn’t it?” He laughed like he’s got some trick up his sleeve but he’s really just pleased. “Apparently this is one of the easier cakes to do with alternative flours.”

“Perfect.” She might be President of the United States, but she and your father were a team. “You did wonderful finding an alternative, honey.”

“You like the orange sauce with it?” Everyone’s anxieties are high for this first occasion and your father wants everything to be perfect.

“Perhaps offer a raspberry or strawberry?” She suggests, looking around the table for everyone’s opinions. “What do you all think? In addition?”

“It’s a little sweet,” you admit, hating to ever disappoint your father. But there is a reason you all have so many round table discussions in your family. “Maybe blood orange would offset the sweetness a little? And be a little more luxurious?”

“Ohhhh blood orange would be amazing.” Alex chimes in, nodding in agreement. “Balance the sweetness of the chocolate.”

“Oh my god yes,” June groans, already having mostly inhaled her lava cake and furtively peaking to see if either you or Alex is going to be willing to give yours up.

Alex snorts when he sees that beseeching look on his younger sister’s face and slides his lava cake towards her.

“This is what you should have for your birthday.” Junie tells you emphatically, digging in to what’s left of your brother’s dessert. “No question.”

“Why? So you can eat all of it?” Your brother snorts. “But-“ he looks back over at you. “What are you having at your party?”

"I honestly haven't thought about it." There's still a month left until your birthday so it hadn't even crossed your mind yet. "Maybe I'll just go to a Nationals game if I can get away from work. Who knows?"

“Oh honey, you shouldn’t do that.” Your mother huffs slightly and shakes her head. “Go to a Nationals game, sure. But you need to have a party.”

"Why?" It sort of feels like whining this time, but you have to wonder what her logic is. "Because I'm one of the First Kids? Because I'm turning 30?"

“Because you deserve a party where others cater to your wants and is about you? Celebrating my oldest baby’s birthday.” She implores, expression soft and loving.

If there is one thing your mother is annoyingly good at it, it's showering love on her children despite being busy. No birthday ever went by without acknowledgement. No success uncelebrated. No set back unconquered. "So does that mean you and Dad are going to throw it and all I have to do is show up?" It's highly unlikely considering how busy they are, but you have to try, right?

“Absolutely.” Her grin is positively smug, like you have fallen into her trap, which - you have. “Of course, we are not going to have it at the White House.” She rolls her eyes slightly. “But you just pretend it will be a surprise. I’ll let Sam know where to bring you.”

"I can't know where to go myself?" Since there's a chance Sam won't even be in the picture in a few weeks, you would rather just have her tell you. "And please don't make it some big, formal thing? If I get told to wear an evening gown to my birthday, I'm not showing up."

“Nothing formal.” She promises. “No ballgown, but a nice dress.” She compromises, tilting her head. “For pictures? Not official ones, of course.��

Regular negotiations with the President should make you eligible for some kind of ambassador position even as her daughter, and you tilt your head at your mother before making a full agreement. "Cocktail attire maximum, the music cannot be described as orchestral anything, and the fancier the venue is, the lower class the food has to be. Those are my conditions."

“Finger foods inside of an upscale tavern?” She poses, smirking slightly at the way you negotiate with her. Out of all the children, you are the closest to her personality, even if you don’t see it. “With specially crafted cocktails to celebrate your birthday? And a playlist composed of your favorites songs from each year?”

"I'll build a core list for the music. Because I don't trust Alex not to sneak Cotton Eye Joe or something into the mix." Like any good wheeling-and-dealing adult child, you have to get just one more compromise in there before sealing the deal. "And I will provide you with a list of friends I'd like invited outside of the normal group. Obviously I know you'll give the information to Sydney, Anna Leigh, and Issy."

“Deal.” She nods and looks very pleased with the situation. “Honey, I will plan this.” She promises, reaching out and patting the back of your father’s hand. “I want to plan it.”

"Along with running the free world, she's also a party planner." Your brother snorts, always ready to tease. "You know you can just hire Juan to do it, Mom."

“No.” She snorts and blows a raspberry at your brother. “It’s my baby’s birthday. I want to plan the perfect party to ring in thirty.”

"And somehow Birdie still doesn't get that she's the favorite." June laughs, throwing you a smirk before she rolls her eyes playfully at Alex.

“Now you know that is not true.” Your mother protests, rolling her eyes. “I love all of you equally.”

"Yes, Mother." Alex and June chime in unison, making all of you break into laughter at the same time around the table.

“Managing you kids is almost harder than running the country.” She grumbles, even though she’s grinning.

"We just wanted you to have a lot of practice before you got to the White House." You assure her, still laughing with your siblings. "Because being Governor of Pennsylvania was definitely not enough. Your children are the real test."

“Yes they are.” She agrees, laughing with all of you and your father. The truth was, she has incredible children that she’s proud of beyond measure. Often she tells the world that her best accomplishment has been raising the three of you and it’s not line to appeal to her core voters, she truly believes that.

"So, I have a logistical question." Satisfied temporarily with the amount of chocolate consumed in one dinner, June sits back in her chair with her glass of iced tea and proves once more than kids take more corralling than countries. "If the State dinner is next Saturday, does that count as family dinner?

Your father rolls his eyes and sighs while your mom narrows her eyes in thought and looks towards her husband for his thoughts. “What do you think, honey?”

"The purpose of Friday night dinners is to have a chance to sit down together as a family and catch up. Enjoy each other's company. Celebrate the week's small wins." It's what they had agreed on years ago when this tradition had been born. "So by that logic, I would say no. Since we won't be sitting around enjoying each other's company while the king and queen of Spain are visiting." He narrows his eyes though, in a way that definitely speaks to how long your parents have been together. They have identical expressions right now. "Why, Junebug? Did you make other plans?"

“I—” she falters for a moment and then shrugs. “There’s a party I wanted to go to, but I don’t have to go if my presence is required.”

Your parents exchange a glance, that decades-long nonverbal communication at work for not the first time today. "Why don't we have dinner a little earlier?" You father offers. Compromise is always the name of the game in the First Family. "If we have dinner at six instead of seven that night, will that give you enough time, kiddo?"

A partial victory counts, so she nods. "That would work. It would give me plenty of time to be annoyed at my security detail."

"Sounds like a plan." Your mother smirks, relieved to see that none of her children have tried to give their agents the slip yet. She had expected it from June, if she's honest. She's definitely the most independent and the most rebellious.

"Wish we didn't have to have them." She pout slightly, even though she had known this was part of the deal. She hadn't expected it to chafe so much though, if she was honest. She have been very innocent in believing they would just a vague shadow.

"I'd rather have you annoyed by their presence and be safe, than let you go without them and have something happen to any of you." It's non-negotiable, you all know that, and your mother is frankly very glad that it comes with the office. Trying to make sure all three of you are safe without the Secret Service? No way.

"I know." She doesn't have to be happy about it though. "I just— wish the world didn't suck so badly sometimes." She murmurs quietly.

"Here here." Alex nods, knowing that all the different ways the world sucks have affected him in ways the rest of the family hasn't experienced on their own. Everyone may tout their belief in soulmates loudly, but he can't even go out and hold his soulmate's hand without risk. If anything, he's grateful for the Secret Service agents that have been assigned to make sure he stays safe.

"I know that you are disappointed that I haven't been able to push through the soulmate resolution yet." Your mother is addressing Alex, but she shoots him a reassuring look. "But I know that it is close." She looks towards you. "Sam has been a strong voice in the fight to approving the resolution." She praises. "You should be very proud of him."

Mom, you’ve only been in office a month. No one at this table expects you to work miracles.” You steadily ignore the remark about Sam, feeling like your blood pressure is rising a little every time he gets mentioned tonight. “The Resolution is a really good piece of legislation and it’s only a matter of time before it gets passed.” Looking to your brother, though, you offer him the proudest smile you can manage. “And then this pain in the ass can have the White House’s first ever gay wedding. One for the history books.”

Alex snorts and shakes his head. “Hell no.” He huffs. “I don’t want a stuffy White House wedding where I have to invite every dignitary I know. I’ll leave that to you.” He hums with a smirk.

“I’m not getting married anytime soon so what does it matter?” An awful lot of people have been very invested in your future lately and it’s grinding on you to the point where you shoot back a reply without even thinking of it.

Your father’s brow shoots up, surprised at the tone you had used and he glances at your mother, a silent look passing between them.

The silence at the table is ringing, and you put down your wine glass as delicately as you can manage. “What?” You ask, looking around the table but not willing to apologize for being cranky. “I’m not engaged, am I? It could be years before I settle down.”

"Nothing." Your mother shakes her head and smiles at you. "Things will happen in their own time." She councils softly. "You don't have to adhere to anyone's timeline but your own."

“Right.” The best you can do is sit back and have the decency to look a little sheepish, but you can feel the question marks in the eyes of your family members all watching you. It is massively uncomfortable at best.

"Okay." Alex senses something is wrong with you, that you want the subject to change so he claps his hands. "So, I have a question." He recaptures his parents attention. "Do we have to dance at the State dinner?" He asks seriously. "Because you know Dave has two left feet and I can't be embarrassed like that."

“You can dance with your sisters,” your father offers, sensing the same thing as his son. “Or with your mother, or the queen? Or any of the young men there, if you want to end up above the fold of the Washington Post.” It’s purely teasing, of course, since anyone who knows Alex knows he is only in the closet publicly.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Nahhhhhh." He waves away the idea. "I don't want to have to hire a PR manager this early in my life." He jokes. "It would drain my savings."

"I guess we'll all behave ourselves." June observes with a wry smile.

"That would be extremely appreciated." Your mother hums, smiling at all of you. "I know you all have busy schedules, but I am so glad we can still get together."

It's Sunday before the dress arrives at the inn for the State dinner, and you and Sydney were enjoying a rare afternoon off together when Malachi lead the worried-looking White House staffer around to the back porch of the inn to let them hand it over to you in person. Sending them off again with your thanks, you push out a sigh. "I haven't heard from Sam in almost a week," you admit when your best friend fixes you with an inquisitive expression.

"Have you reached out to him?" Sydney asks, frowning as she holds the passion fruit tea she has been obsessed with over the last few days. "He might be embarrassed and unsure of how he will be received?"

"I sent him a text yesterday asking if we were still on for our plans tonight, but...nothing so far." Making plans ahead of time had been a definite strength for the two of you before now. But since Valentine's Day? Communication has been non-existent.

"Have you tried his office?" It's not like Sam to just blow you off, so she wonders if he's been caught up in meetings.

"I—" You blow out another breath. One that feels like defeat. "I'm afraid of calling and having Vanessa pick up," you admit. It feels stupid but you can't help it. "The idea that she could be feeling chatty and say something about Marcus just...I know that's stupid."

"Have you tried to text Marcus?" That's the next question is the most obvious one to take the conversation. If you aren't in contact with Marcus or he hasn't responded to you, that could be why you are feeling like a duck out of water.

"No." That idea makes you shake your head sternly and reach for your drink. The covered porch and little space heater is nice for sitting in the sunniest hours of the day, but you still made yourself a cup of hot coffee to sip while you sat with Sydney. "No...I mean...he probably hates me by now."

"I don't think he would hate you." She's already making an note to have Juan reach out to Pike himself. Maybe take him out for a beer and feel him out on the situation. "You cancelled a causal invite to dinner, you didn't cancel taking him to the State dinner."

"I can't even think about the dinner." Your fingers drum on the box beside you, knowing the dress inside is beautiful but not wanting to face the reality of how uncomfortable the night will be. "If I don't have a date I have to tell my father as soon as possible and I'll get stuck with a million questions and a seat filler."

"Then you need to call Sam." She huffs. "Even if he's fuming at you, I doubt he would miss the State dinner."

"I know, I know, I know you're right." But you don't really want to call him. If it's been almost a week and he's effectively ghosted you? That seems like a pretty clear signal to you.

"Babe....you need closure." The bags under your eyes aren't doing you any good, despite the sleepy time tea that she had been sending to you. "If you are ending things with him, you need to be an adult about it."

"Ugh." You groan, letting your head tip back so the sound drags out dramatically. "Stop making sense and giving good advice, it's interfering with my denial and the reconstruction of my emotional walls."

She laughs, although it's not really funny. She knows where you and it's a shitty place to be. Sighing softly, she picks up your phone and holds it out to you.

"I hate you." Even muttered good naturedly, you still snag your phone from her hand and clutch your coffee mug like a security blanket. Sam's office number is programed into your phone and you squeak with combined fear and frustration as the call connects and begins to ring.

"Congressman Chase's office." Vanessa's voice comes over the line cheerfully and professionally. "How may I be of assistance today?"

Don't be a coward, you remind yourself sternly, as soon as you hear her voice. "Hi Vanessa." Saying your name clearly eliminates any assumption that his staff might recognize your voice, even though you know a few people absolutely do. Some of his staffers like to chat to you while you wait for Sam to come to the phone when you call his office. "Is Sam available?"

Her use of your last name is merely one of respect, choosing to keep things professional with the Congressman's girlfriend. Slightly confused because you are calling for him at the office. "Did he not tell you?" She asks, her voice lower than the usual chipper tone.

"Apparently not." There is no way you're going to fess up that Sam hasn't spoken to you in days, or returned even so much as a text message. Now you're concerned something might be going on.

"The Congressman has been sick all week." She only knows how bad it is because he had spend the first few days trying to work through it. "He has pneumonia." She huffs quietly. "He's been barely reachable but I had though the would have at least let you know."

He's sick. You barely manage to swallow a sigh of relief at that news, and only because you know how inappropriate that would sound to his aide. "I hadn't heard the official diagnosis." It's as smooth a lie as you can muster at the moment, and you cling to your warm mug all the harder. He's sick. That's why he hasn't called. "Thank you, Vanessa."

"Of course." She's confused, but she also knows that the medication the doctor had prescribed him was to help him rest since he had been trying to push himself. "Anytime."

The groan of relief comes only after you disconnect the call, and you deflate into yourself in your chair. "He's sick," you tell Sydney with a groan. The heel of one hand digs into your closed eye like you're trying to banish a headache but it's really just that you feel the pressure releasing from your mind. "He has pneumonia. He's been out since the beginning of the week."

"Okaaaaay." Surprising, but honestly, it's not? Considering it's Sam and he's pretty direct about things. It's one of those traits that Sydney admires about him. "That's a very valid reason for not texting or calling." She admits. "That's a good thing, right?"

"I'm not thrilled that he's sick, but I'm very relieved that he didn't just ghost me. He sleeps like a rock around the clock when he's sick, so he's probably just passed out at home." The one other time you had seen him with a cold was several months ago, and it seemed like he had slept for three days straight before springing back up on his feet like nothing had happened.

"He didn't just ghost you." She grins at you, even though you are still conflicted about Sam, the fact that you are relieved by this means there's something there. "Do you want me to whip him up some chicken noodle soup to drop at his doorstep?"

"Do you want to go upstairs?" When the two of you actually get the chance to cook together it's always fun, and this sounds like the perfect opportunity. You didn't have a dinner plan anyway. Chicken noodle soup for two is easy enough. "I did my grocery shopping this morning so I know I have everything. And..." you pat the dress box beside you. "I should hang this up. I don't think velvet wrinkles but I still don't want to take a chance."

"Absolutely." She sends you a smile, happy that you look relieved and like a weight has been lifted off your chest. "We will have Congressman Chase cured with our famous chicken noodle soup in no time."

Juan had taken the afternoon to go for a ride around the Virginia backroads so it's just you girls right now and that sounds pretty perfect. You gather up your things and nab Agent Bailey, heading upstairs to get to work and try to ease your mind a little. "I do still have a problem," you point out, when the elevator hits the top floor.

"What's that?" Sydney frowns, looking at the screen that shows the floor you are on. She really hates elevators, but this helps her mitigate that fear that the damn thing would plunge into the basement like all those action movies she had watched as a kid.

The doors slide open and you let her out first, stepping up behind her to unlock the door and let the three of you inside. "Now I definitely need to find a new date for the State dinner."

"Oh shit." Sam can't attend the State dinner with pneumonia, it would be too great of a risk. "Well, I can have Juan escort you." She had plans to have dinner with her parents and reveal the name they had chosen, but this was important and she could reschedule.

"Honey, no." She's been excited about the dinner with her parents for a week already and it wouldn't be fair to take Juan away from that. "You guys have family plans and I'm not going to ruin that. I'll just...think of someone else."

"Malachi?" She offers. "He would look good in a tuxedo."

For a split second you get excited about the idea, but you sink again as you readjust the dress box on your hip. "I need him here that night." You tell her, groaning about it. "We have that six-person reservation that needs a translator. Malachi is the only one on staff who speaks Hindi fluently."

"Fuck." The fact is there aren't a lot of men that can just be called up last minute to look good in a suit and be cleared to be in a roomful of the world's top dignitaries. Unless... "I have an idea and you're going to hate it." She promises as you open the door to your apartment. "Give me your phone."

"I trust you with my life but I do not like that tone in your voice." Still, you hand over your phone with confusion on your face and start to unpack the burgundy velvet evening gown that was altered to fit you perfectly. "Please don't call any of my exes."

"I am not calling any of your exes." She promises you, opening the phone with a code and opening your phone book. It's easy to find the number that she is looking for, because you are a stickler for putting numbers in properly and hits call, changing the phone to speaker so you can hear it ring.

The call rings three times before it connects, and even if Sydney hadn't been angling the phone away from you so that you couldn't see the name, you're pulling the dress out of the box when you hear the unmistakable "Hello?" on the other end.

Suddenly you're standing straight up and glaring at your best friend – your former best friend – for this ultimate betrayal. "Marcus." Your voice cracks when you say his name and you just want the floor to open and swallow you up. "Hi. How— how are you?"

"Oh, hi." It's obvious that he's confused as to why you are calling him on a Sunday, but he doesn't hang up the phone. "I'm good, how are you?" He asks politely, actually sounding like he is interested in the answer.

"I..." You sink down on your bed, letting Sydney continue to hold your phone, and hug the dress to your chest. "I'm calling for a couple of reasons," you decide. Now that you've been confronted with this phone call, it all sort of comes tumbling out. "I wanted to apologize, first. For being vague on rescheduling our Indian dinner last weekend, and then taking off like the Wicked Witch was after me when I saw you the other morning. I've...it's been a weird week. And that was rude of me. So I apologize."

“I understand.” Marcus gives a rueful chuckle. “I’ve had a bit of a weird one myself. My phone has been broken three different times in the past week alone.” He snorts. “And half my contacts and messages have been unrecoverable according to the techs at the store.” He sighs. “So if you send me a message or something and I didn’t answer, I promise I wasn’t ignoring you.”

The I told you so look on Syd's face causes you to throw a pillow at her and you shake your head as though he was in the room with you instead of over the phone. "I texted you once about rescheduling dinner,' you admit. "But...I have a slightly different suggestion, if...if you want to hear it? And I would consider it an enormous favor."

It’s on the tip of his tongue to decline, but he is curious to hear what this favor is. “Hit me.” He tells you with a slight chuckle. “But not too hard. I have to work tomorrow.”

"I promise I'm not capable of punching through a cell phone." It's easy to talk to him. So easy. And it lulls you into a momentary false sense of security as you sit back on your bed. "But...I have a plus one to a State dinner for the Spanish royal family on Saturday night and I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party at the White House?" It's such an insane thing to ask a person that you almost feel like it's an out of body experience, but there it is. It's out in the open. There's no taking it back now.

“I-“ Of all the questions he tries to anticipate, that was not it. He frowns slightly, wondering about the congressman, until he remember that Vanessa had said he was sick with pneumonia. It’s likely him being sick has put you into a frenzy to find someone to go. Not the reason he would like to have dinner with you, but he wants to view you as a friend and this will be a friendly, public event. “Sounds like I need to get my tuxedo to the cleaners.”

"Oh my god, you're a lifesaver." The air whooshes out of you all at once and you fall back onto your bed with a gigantic sigh. "I will come and pick you up myself, the food is going to be amazing, and you can rag on me with my pain-in-the-ass siblings all night. I can't say how grateful I am, Marcus. Really. Thank you so much."

“It’s a honor that you even considered me to escort you” Marcus tells you truthfully. “I’ll be exited to go and I promise to keep the ragging to a minimum.”

"You've earned the right, I promise." You blow out another breath and manage to sit up but solidly ignore the smug look on your best friend's face. "I'll text you the details, if that's okay? Is your phone situation all worked out?"

He laughs quietly. “Hopefully so. All I know is that it is never a good idea to set your phone on the roof of the car when the rookie is driving.” Marcus snorts. “If I don’t get a message by tomorrow, I’ll call you. Sound good?”

"Sounds perfect." Quiet for a second, you take your phone out of Sydney's hand and smile, the smallest twitch of the thing in the corners of your mouth. "Thank you, Marcus. I owe you, but I promise we'll have fun."

“Don’t even worry about it.” He promises. “Well, I hope you have a great rest of your weekend, okay?” He asks. “And tell Sam to feel better.”

"I will." Passing that message along might be slightly strained, but it's the thought that counts. Thanking him again, you press the red button on your phone screen to end the call and groan so loudly that Agent Bailey sticks her head into the room just to make sure you didn't hurt yourself. "I can't believe you did that!" You squawk, throwing a second pillow at Sydney. This one hits her square in the shoulder where the first one missed.

“But tell me it wasn’t worth it?” She challenges, throwing the pillow back at you. “You have a date for the State dinner and you learned that he wasn’t ignoring you either.” She folds her arms over her chest and looks at you with a smug smile. “Come on, what other problems do we need to solve? World hunger?”

"Go to Friday night dinner in my place if you want to work on global issues." You snark playfully. The fact is, you know she's right. Annoyingly so, actually, and right now you're still processing.

“Maybe now you will get some sleep.” She huffs, still smug that everything was working out. “You’ve got a dress, a date and I’ll even have one of the wedding stylists that owes me a favor come do your hair and makeup.” She hums. “I made a special dinner for her and her boyfriend for Valentine’s.” She explains.

"What are you, the Romance Fairy?" Dragging yourself off the bed, you carry the dress over to your closet and carefully hang it up where nothing bad could ever touch it. The garment bag that it's in will help make sure of that. "Come on, we have soup to make."

She doesn’t mention that the State dinner isn’t supposed to be romantic. She just grins and follows you. “Yes ma’am, Hummingbird, ma’am.”

"Oh god, don't call me that around him." This, in particular, is an incredibly stern warning. At this point you're just grateful that the Secret Service use your callsign quietly enough that they're not overheard when they say it. "I'll die of embarrassment."

“I won’t.” She promises, aware that you aren’t quite ready to address that particular issue.

“I just don’t even want to think about that.” You don’t want to, but you have been. Rather constantly, which is a growing issue.

“Let’s just get you through the State dinner and your birthday.” Syd suggests. “Then you can let that big brain of yours work overtime on non-issues.”

Throwing Sydney a look of dismay over the last of your coffee, you pout animatedly. “I debated terms of my birthday with my mother at the last dinner.”

“And?” Sydney almost laughs at your look and turns away to start rummaging through your fridge for the ingredients for the soup. “What was negotiated?”

“Cocktail. High end pub, finger foods and a DJ.” You shake your head and huff a sigh. “I said I should just go to a ball game, but that was unacceptable.”

“It’s hard to run security for the president at a stadium.” She reminds you. “And your mom would want to be there.”

“I just…” Looking back at Sydney, you cross your arms and shrug. “I don’t think I have all that much to celebrate this year, I guess.”

“You have a lot to celebrate.” Your friend will always hype you up and she does so now. “You have your health, a successful business with your best friend.” She cheeses playfully at you. “Your mother is the president of the United States and….” She shrugs. “You’ve hit your dirty thirties. We have to celebrate.”

“I can’t exactly have dirty thirties when my mother is the president.” You throw your arms around her again and squeeze her shoulders, grateful for every second you have Sydney by your side. You’ve been each other’s ride or die since first grade and that will never change. “And you’re pregnant, so you already got dirty.”

“I did.” She snorts with a wicked grin. “And I enjoyed every second of it, too.”

“Perv.” You really can’t help but tease her, but it’s purely out of affection. “It’s just because you’ve got your super sexy soulmate. The Triple S is undeniable.”

“He is sexy.” She can’t deny that, grinning wickedly as she rubs her stomach. “And getting sexier. Did I tell you he’s starting to get sympathy cravings? Dad bod mode is close.”

“Your wildest dreams are all about to come true.” The two of you giggle together as you start to pull ingredients out of the fridge, getting started on cooking that batch of soup.

“So, do you feel better now?” Sydney asks, organizing the vegetables and opening the drawer for the carrot peeler. She had helped you set up the kitchen to her specifications so she could easily find what she wanted when she cooked here.

“A little.” It’s relief more than anything, as you start to peel fresh ginger. It’s the secret ingredient to your best ever chicken noodle soup. “And then I feel guilty for it, which is fucked up. Like I think Marcus might actually enjoy himself on Saturday just for the bragging rights and then I immediately feel bad for thinking that.”

“Why do you feel bad?” She cocks her head as she peels the outer layer off the crisp, orange carrots. “I think most people will enjoy themselves just for bragging rights, it’s brag worthy.”

“Promise you won’t judge me and promise you won’t tell anyone. Not even Juan.” Holding your pinky finger out to her is the most solemn promise you can possibly as of your friend, and neither one of you has ever refused it.

“Of course.” Juan knows everything you are comfortable with, but she would never betray your trust like that. She hooks her finger around yours and looks at you for an explanation.

“I…” Glancing around, you see that Agent Bailey has dutifully slipped out of earshot and is sitting on your couch with a crossword book firmly in hand. “I feel guilty because now that it’s set…I can’t help wishing it was a date,” you admit quietly, hanging your head turn.

“It kind of is a date.” Syd admits, looking at you with a sense of regret for teasing you. “A platonic on, but a date nonetheless.” She hums. “Just like you and I have dates. Friend dates.”

“That…regrettably…is not what I mean.” The best you can really do is shrug your shoulders in defeat. “Friend dates are awesome and I will take you on dates for the rest of our lives. But I—I wish this was different than that. And it sucks.”

“You can’t help attraction.” She argues softly, knowing that you will still feel guilty. You are very stern about cheating, and this is veering into emotional territory for you. “He might not- it should just be about the dinner.”

“I know.” Peel ginger. Grate ginger. Try not to think too hard about what Marcus will look like in a tux. “I know. You’re right.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs softly. “I shouldn’t have pushed.” She feels guilty, especially now that she knows how you are feeling about this.

“How could you have known? I’ve kept this as firmly to myself as I possibly could.” And keeping things from Sydney is the most impossible task in the world for you. “Besides. He was the right choice.”

“Still doesn’t make me any less sorry.” She huffs, washing the carrots and bringing them over to the chopping board. “I don’t want you to be stressed, I want you to be happy.”

“I’m going to be stressed until I make a decision about what to do.” Once the ginger is done you move on to washing and slicing celery. “And I don’t know how to make that decision.”

Sydney sighs heavily. “I hate that for you.” She admits softly. “If you need to talk, you let me know.”

“What does Juanito think I should do?” You know her well enough to know that she’s talked to her husband — her own soulmate — about this at least a little.

“Juan thinks that you should be happy.” She hums softly. “Whatever that entails. As long as you are fair to everyone.”

"No groundbreaking advice?" If you're honest with yourself, you were kind of hoping for it. Instead, you're definitely floundering.

Sydney stops chopping and points the tip of the knife at you. “You know what he would say, Birdie.”

Ugh. That's true. You do. Juan is unfalteringly trustworthy like that. "That I have to talk to both of them..."

“Even if Marcus isn’t your soulmate, you are attracted to him, and it’s worth seeing if he might be the one you want to be with.” She shrugs, knowing that it’s easy to give advice when she’s found her soulmate and is blissfully happy. “Or it might just say that Sam isn’t the one.”

"Have you noticed a pattern?" Even as you're making the soup, going through effort and putting care into a dish to comfort and heal, a pattern is becoming as obvious as daybreak.

“I have.” She nods and looks back up at you. “Have you noticed that pattern? Or have you just been ignoring it?”

"I think..." A heavy sigh escapes you as you deposit the clean, diced celery in a bowl. "I might have been ignoring it."

“It’s okay to admit that a relationship has run its course.” She reminds you. “Sometimes, things just aren’t meant to be.”

"It's just...no version of this conversation we've had in the last few weeks has ended with the conclusion that I should stay with Sam. And that...that is not how I ever expected things to go. He's such a sweet guy and we've had such a good time." Just as unexpected as this conclusion is the tear that rolls down your cheek, and you brush it away immediately. "It's shitty to break up with someone while they're sick, right?"

“I think you owe him a face to face explanation.” She doesn’t tell you that it’s wrong, if that’s what you want to do. She’ll support whatever you want.

"Shit," you groan, reaching next for an onion. Sydney has trained you to be a dutiful sous chef for so long that now you just do her prep work without thinking. "This is going to suck, isn't it?"

“It doesn’t have to.” She counters. “You said Sam’s reaction was….surprisingly hostile. Maybe he’s had some doubts about the relationship too.”

"If he was hostile about the fact that I was standing my ground, he's either going to be hostile about being broken up with, or just completely silent." Sam doesn't take rejection well, you've seen it in a more professional setting but it will certainly apply here.

“Was he hostile?” She asks seriously. “Or were you both in unknown territory and stubbornly waiting for the other to give in?”

Groaning animatedly, you bump Sydney with your hip at the counter and shake your head. "Sometimes I truly dislike how well you know me. I'm just saying that out loud for the record."

“You know you love me.” She snorted and blows a raspberry at you playfully.

"I do love you." But it garners another groan from you all the same. "This was so much easier when we were kids and our life plan was to live in a castle until we were old enough for a nursing home, and then to be the super weird old ladies on the front porch of the home cursing at people as they walked by."

“We are still on for that.” She jokes, motioning to the apartment. “We are in our castle right now.”

"Technically we can go to an American castle any time we want," you point out. "It comes with the price of visiting my family, but the White House does count as a castle."

“Yes it does.” She agrees, proud to know the first family so well. “But I like our castle better.”

"I love this place." From the first day you set foot inside the inn, you have absolutely adored both working here and even running the place. Living in the caretaker's apartment has been comforting. Like a warm hug on a cold day. "And I love that we get to share it."

“There is no one I would rather do this with.” She tells you honestly, so excited to be able to live out the vague dreams of college now as adults.

"You're gonna make me teary again," you complain, fully teasing her but definitely feeling a little emotional about the whole situation.

“I thought it was my job to be the emotional mess.” Sydney sniffles and moves to wrap her arms around you and squeeze tight.

“Sympathy mood swings.” That makes both of you laugh, there at the counter. “Is that a thing?”

“Why not?” She asks, laughing herself at her husband and best friend having sympathy symptoms of her pregnancy.

“It is now, I guess.” You keep working through the soup prep side by side, getting everything ready in unison. “The thing is…” you hum after you’ve both stopped laughing. “I do care about Sam. And I want him to be happy. I just…don’t think I’m going to be the one to give him the future he wants. Which sucks to realize.”

“It’s better that you realize it now.” She rationalizes. “Less heartache and it’s not like you’re married with kids.”

“And we haven’t started moving in.” That’s an unexpected relief, and the realization that it was moving in together that kicked at your doubt is something you’ll have to grapple with later. “I probably only have a couple of things at his place and the only thing I’ve got of his here is a book I borrowed.”

“And….” She sighs. “Let’s face it, Sam wasn’t happy with you spending all your time at the inn.” She voices. “He rarely wanted to come here, even though he’s the one that can more easily travel.”

“Have you been holding back on me, Badillo?” You raise an eyebrow at her as she works on the chicken. “Hiding the things about Sam that have been bothering you?”

“No.” You don’t seem very surprised. “Just observations that I have made, but I wasn’t sure how you would take them.” She explains. “You were very proud of your relationship with Sam and I didn’t want to influence you unduly.”

"I was." And you can acknowledge that firmly, knowing that the relationship you forged with Sam was based on respect and mutual affection. It does feel like failure to see it ending, but at least you tried. Failure is just a means for new growth, as your mother has always told you.

“I know you look at this as a failure.” She’s known you way too long to think otherwise. “But this was a year long relationship that at the end of the day- you weren’t on the same page.”

“I think it would feel very different if I wasn’t sure it was going to end up talked about in every gossip column from sea to shining sea.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, knowing — and hating — how true it is. Junie isn’t dating and Alex isn’t dating publicly, so all eyes are on you. Especially if you break up with a Congressman.

“Don’t let it bother you.” She urges you. “It’s not like they can say anything bad.”

“Tell that to Princess Diana.” You huff, shaking your head and rolling your shoulders to try to straighten out your head a little. “Okay. New topic. Baby name? I’m dying to know what you guys picked.”

She smiles, rubbing her stomach in that universally happy way all expectant mothers do. “Constance Maria Badillo.” She lights up as she tells you the name they had finally decided on last night.

“Oh, honey.” There’s a measure of delight in your giggle when you light up, finding out those two essential pieces of information all at once. Sydney and Juan had been keeping both under wraps. “It’s a girl? Really?”

“We just found out.” She admits, grinning like a maniac. “Of course, baby Badillo could have just been shy but they are pretty positive she’s a girl.”

"You must be thrilled." Of course Sydney would be happy no matter what the gender as long as the baby is healthy, but you know she's always dreamed about having her little girl.

“Over the moon.” Agreeing happily, she turns back to the chicken. “And Juan and I have talked about it.” It’s a casual beginning. “We want you to be her Godmother, as well as Auntie Birdie.”

"Syd." Your knife gets put down immediately and you turn to her with a look of complete awe on your face. "Are you sure? You don't want to ask your sister? I mean I am honored and one thousand percent here for it."

“No.” She shakes her head and her own tools are set down so she can address this properly. “There is no one that we want more than you.” She explains. “You will always be my choice for godparent.”

"I know I've said it before in our lives, but I am here for anything you need." It's not just for Syd, and you lean down and hum a happy hello to your goddaughter that's growing like crazy. "That goes for you too, kiddo. Hear me? Auntie Birdie's got your back. And your front. And all the other bits of you forever."

“You are going to be her favorite.” Sydney sniffles, her hormones making her cry happy tears. “The one she confides in when she can’t bear to tell me or Juan and I love you for that.”

“I hope so.” Wrapping your best friend up in a hug is exactly what this moment needs, and the sound of two women sniffling takes over your kitchen for just long enough to make both of you break out into giggles. “She’s going to get the best of me and I’m going to tell her about all the stupid bullshit we got into as teenagers.”

“Oh god, you better not.” Sydney groans, rolling her eyes. “Nothing she can throw back in my face when she’s angsty and argumentative.”

“Nothing that will put you in Mom Jail,” you tease with a wink. “Promise.”

“Thank goodness.” She snorts. “This one is already gonna have her daddy wrapped around her finger, so I’m gonna have to be the bad cop.”

“It will go back and forth. One day she’ll do something that makes Juan crazy and you’ll be the arms that she runs to.” It happened in your own house more than once, there’s no reason it won’t happen in hers, too. “It will all turn out. She’s going to have the best parents in the world.”

“I hope so.” She shrugs slightly, aware that they will make mistakes, but hopefully it won’t be too bad to make their daughter hate them.

“You have love,” you remind her with a gentle smile. “Have a little faith, too. If nothing else, we all believe in you. All your friends and your family know you’re going to be great.”

“We will have our little village for Constance.” She agrees. “So when we mess up, we can learn.”

“For Baby Badillo number two,” you tease, beaming at her.

“Juan is already asking how many more I want.” Sydney snort, huffing slightly even if she’s grinning. “Told him that he needed to let me birth this one first before we decided that.”

“One at a time is probably best. For your body and your sanity.” Although, you do raise an eyebrow at her. “Twins don’t run in your family, right?”

“Not that I know of, but Juan thinks some cousins might have twins.” She winces and shakes her head with a laugh. “I’ll kill him.”

"Fingers crossed that you only have to grow one baby at a time." With everything prepped, you move to the sink to wash your knives and fetch your best stock pot from the cabinets. "But I will spoil the hell out of all of them, no matter what."

“I know you will.” She knows what despite your already busy schedule, you will always make time for those that matter most to you. Which is why it’s so telling her that you and Sam have been spending less and less time together over the last few months.

“So…” Flashing Sydney a grin as she starts to cook, you move back to the refrigerator to put things away and to get fresh drinks for both of you. “Two questions, then. First: Have you picked a godfather? And two, if I’m her go mother does that mean I get to throw your baby shower?”

"I'm letting Juan pick out the godfather." She admits, shrugging slightly. "I don't- he's got some ideas, but he hasn't made a final decision yet."

“Most of his friends are fathers already, aren’t they?” The Guy friends that Juan had made in the DC area since moving east after meeting Sydney are all responsible men around his age and most of them have families of their own. It’s a small group, it they’re tight knit.

"Yeah....except that, now, Juan has started thinking that he wants someone that is...." She rolls her eyes, "trained." She huffs and moves over to wash her hands again. "You know how involved he was with beefing up security here, he wants a protector for our little girl in case something happens to us."

“Well…that’s not unreasonable, right?” Spying a can of croissant dough — a cheat you’re very fond of — in your fridge, you grab it and decide to fill them with Nutella and berries for a little dessert pastry. “I mean he’s got friends who are trained. Be able to pick someone.”

"I know." She sighs and turns back to you. "I just hate that he's so practical about it." She admits, biting her lip again. "I don't want to think about us not being here to protect her."

“Then try to think of it like he’s choosing someone who can help her learn to protect herself,” you offer instead. As she grows up and faces new things — whatever those things are — her godfather will have been there to teach her self-confidence and safety in equal measure.”

There's a moment where Sydney thinks about what you said and how it applies to the situation before she huffs out a slightly annoyed, mostly amused laugh. "How do you do that?" She grumbles. "I was ready to be in a tearful pout about that you have to go make it perfectly acceptable." There's no heat to her words and she flashes you a grateful smile. "Thanks."

“We’ve been friends for twenty-five years, Sydney Rose.” The grin you flash back at her in unapologetic. “If I don’t know how to talk you out of a panic by now, I’m more clueless than I thought.”

Pursing her lips at you, she doesn't try to deny it. Instead, she turns to rummage in your spice cabinet. "Do you have that turmeric I left up here last time?"

“It’s behind the huge mason jar of chili seasoning.” You tell her without looking up from your dough-chocolate-and-berry project. “Indian spices are in the back because I fucked up the last time I tried to make curry from scratch and they were taunting me.”

“Poor thing.” Sydney sympathizes and shrugs. “We just need to realize they put something extra in their recipes they won’t tell us.” She hums, talking about your favorite curry from your favorite restaurant that you had cancelled on Marcus going to.

"Some kind of magic that I can't wrap my brain around." There were strawberries in your fridge that you're now set on cleaning and trimming. A crescent roll filled with a dollop of Nutella and a whole strawberry is a thing of beauty. "I should just eat their take out every week for the rest of my life instead of trying to make it."

She smirks at you but doesn’t remind you that you would have had some the other day. It would be too cruel. “How about we order some Sunday?” She suggests. “Decompress from the State dinner?”

“That sounds amazing.” The gratitude you have and have always had for her friendship truly is never ending. “You can tell me all about dinner with your folks and we can get chaotic with each other over curry and Scrabble?”

“Sounds like we are party-ing.”She teases, although she loves it. Low key nights are her favorite.

“And all the sparkling apple cider we can stand.” If she’s going to tease you, you’re going to tease her right back. “By the way, I asked Mom to make sure my birthday has a mocktail so you don’t miss out on the fun.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” She beams at being included and tilts her head. “So how was the family dinner, besides the avoidance of Sam talk?”

“Alex is bringing David to the State dinner. Under wraps, of course.” Syd has known your family so long that she knows every inch of your siblings’ lives as well, just like you know hers. “Junie is learning to negotiate to be able to go to parties, so I know I’ve done my job as her big sister right.

“Your brother should be able to take any fucking body he wants to the State dinner.” She rolls her eyes and huffs, offended on behalf of your younger brother. “If foreign dignitaries don’t like it, fuck ‘em.”

"He can. It's not like the Spanish royals have a 'no gays' policy or something, and gay marriage obviously isn't the issue. It's that he doesn't want to become the center of an unnecessary debate. He is who he is, and I'm so proud of him for making his choices." Glancing over at her, you shrug slightly. "That being said? I get not wanting to be thrown into the spotlight for who you love."

“Of course you do.” It’s kind of a double-edged sword in her opinion, the political spotlight. You could be a darling of the media one day and the scapegoat the next, just depending on how the mercurial whim of the people shifted.

"It's one thing that Sam didn't seem to mind, and I was grateful for that." In no way are you going to start bad mouthing the man just because you've reached the finish line of your relationship. That's not the kind of person you are.

“I know, but I also know that dating a presidential candidate’s daughter during an election isn’t exactly bad press for a politician.” She holds up a hand. “I’m not saying that’s why he dated you, I’m not speaking ill, I’m just stating facts.”

"If he actually wants to be President, he needs to get used to having the Secret Service being around real fast." You snort, shaking your head and knowing that it really has been one thing bothering him pretty constantly. "He hates feeling like his privacy is being invaded."

“It might be because he’s not in control of the detail.” She guesses. “You have the final say on the detail and where they are.”

"Either way, I don't think he'll miss having an agent in his living room." There are plenty of strawberries, so you offer one to Syd and pop a small one in your mouth to savor. "Maybe I just won’t date during my mom’s administration. Maybe that’s the solution.”

“You like having a partner though.” She argues. “And you shouldn’t give up dating because of who your mother is.”

"It might just be less complicated." It's not what you want but it would certainly save you some heartache. "What's the worst that happens? I'm single for the next eight years?"

“Already counting on that re-election?” She teases, bumping your hip playfully.

You huff, swallowing a half-laugh, and bump her back. "More like pondering my worst case scenario."

“Whatever happens, we will be with you.” She promises with a grin.

______

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

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @storiesofthefandomlovers

My Masterlist!

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

100 notes · View notes

agentdanascully · 1 year

Text

there was a moment during last night’s americans reunion panel where the moderator asked a question that matthew started to answer but he paused and gestured to keri instead, who just stared at him, so he prompted her with “you were going to say something” and she was like “i wasn’t going to say anything?!” and matthew goes “oh, you inhaled.” happy 10 years of this man being cripplingly down bad <3

#i too am hyperaware of keri russell's breathing

234 notes · View notes

fandom-junk-drawer · 3 months

Text

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 14

Geralt and Jaskier shuffled through the back door, arms loaded with bags of sodas. They headed straight for the kitchen and began unpacking.

It was D&D night, so Yennefer might not have thought twice about the large quantity of drinks they were hauling in. But there were two little details that set warning bells off in her head.

1. Geralt had already gone out two days earlier and bought drinks and snacks for their weekly game night. 2. Every single soda in the bags was Sprite. Both Geralt and Jaskier favored colas, and Eskel was the only one of the Witchers that preferred Sprite. What where they doing with all that Sprite?

Something asinine this way comes. Yennefer thought to herself as she eyed the men suspiciously from the kitchen doorway. Jaskier was openly smiling at her, eyes glowing merrily. Geralt was avoiding looking at her all together.

Dumbf**kery was definitely afoot.

"You want to play with us?" Jaskier asked excitedly, "We're going to do The Sprite Challenge!"

"The what--?" Before Yennefer could finish asking her question, Jaskier opened a bottle of soda and downed the whole thing in one go, pausing only to breathe and give the carbonation burn time to fade. Then he stood there expectantly.

Mentally trying to regain her footing, Yennefer glanced at Geralt. The Witcher was watching Jaskier excitedly.

The seconds ticked by.

Feeling as if she was supposed to give some sort of commentary, Yennefer said, "Er, congratulations? You drank an entire bottle of Sprite all--!"

The rest of what Yennefer said was drowned out by the almighty belch that erupted from Jaskier. It was long, loud, and carried the faint scent of lemon-lime. Geralt and Jaskier laughing ecstatically, gave each other a celebratory high-five.

What the h*ll, a girl had to have fun sometimes. Yennefer gave up trying to be the mature one, and joined her two idiots, cheering them on and recording the proceedings.

"Your turn, big guy!" Jaskier announced. Geralt nodded, twisted the top off a Sprite, and chugged it. The liquid swirled in a little tornado as it disapeared down Geralt's throat. There was a moment of silence, before Geralt made a noise like a Skellige fog horn.

Guffaws erupted, and the process was repeated, with time in between for stomachs and bladders to empty. While they waited for the next round, Jaskier and Geralt took turns trying to belch their names and various obscenities.

Geralt and Jaskier: * chug Sprite*

Jaskier: *bear with a bellyache*

Geralt: *Semi truck engine braking*

Jaskier: *sound like someone ripping a***

Geralt: *goose honk*

Jaskier: *sound like a toilet unclogging*

Yennefer decided to give it a try herself. Jaskier and Geralt cheered her on as she downed her soda. Seconds later, she opened her mouth and out came a string of garbled noises that sounded like the syllables of the blackest magic spell ever spoken.

"Holy f**k!" Jaskier laughed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Did you just curse someone?" Geralt chortled.

"Was it just me, or did you see snakes come out of her boots and a black cloud swirl around her?"

"Oh, f**k you both!" Yennefer grumbled.

"I'd rather *garbled burp* a nekker!" Jaskier retorted.

"That's not much of an insult, considering you'd f**k anything with a hole in it!"

Jaskier: *affronted gasp*

"Scr*bber!"

"B*llend!"

"M*ngebag!"

"A*semonger!"

Geralt decided to intervene before the tit-for-tat escalated. The Witcher chugged a Sprite, tossed the bottle aside, and assumed the belching position. The distraction worked, and Yennefer and Jaskier forgot about their bantering and waited with bated breath.

Geralt grimaced, and then *dying humpback whale noises*

The three of them immediately lost their sh*t. They howled maniacally, holding their sides and leaning on whatever surface was close by.

Laughing on a belly full of carbonated liquid turned out to be risky business.

Geralt and Jaskier both laughed so hard they spewed.

One minute Yennefer was laughing at the ridiculous noise Geralt had made, and the next, her laughter turned to exclamations of surprised disgust. Puke fountained onto the floor as Geralt and Jaskier chucked whiteys. It rolled and splattered, and Yennefer was just doing her best to get the h*ll out of the way.

The vomiting petered out, turning to dry heaves before stopping. Yennefer helped them to the living room, settling them on the couches, then went back to the kitchen to clean up the mess.

She was not one to use magic for mundane things that she could do herself, but this time, she made an exception. She was not going to clean up this mess by hand. She spelled the kitchen clean with a wave of her hand, then returned to the living room and her two dumba**es.

She knew their stomachs were probably feeling a bit queasy, so she cheerfully offered them something to help.

"Here, have some Sprite, it will settle your stomachs!"

*Symphony of groans*

25 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 9 months

Note

Hi Keri! Please feel no pressure to answer this or anything but I know you sometimes do real life kinda advice for people? I guess I’m new to the general Pedro fandom (I’ve known who he is for ages and also been on tumblr for ages but somehow my idiot brain never thought about searching him on here) and it sounds silly but I’m a little lowkey terrified about being here. I know the fandom got a lot of new people recently/since tlou and some people aren’t thrilled with that, which I can understand, and I don’t want to make anything worse (even though my anxious ass can barely make myself watch his interviews—which he obviously agreed to have public as part of his job—because I start worrying if I’m not being respectful of his privacy). I’ve been silently lurking for a while and can’t bring myself to interact or post anything (even though my writing is probably shit anyway ha) because I don’t want to contribute to a problem or make anything worse for anybody and maybe the fandom was sort of “full up” before everything got big this year and I should just leave well enough alone?

Hello love!

Thank you for interacting with me and I hope that you don't decide to disengage from the fandom.

Writing fanfics about characters isn't intrusive. Loving a kind and sweet man who happens to be a very talented and attractive actor isn't intrusive. Wanting to participate in a fandom and scream over those things isn't intrusive.

What's intrusive? Trying to 'out' his sexuality when he has never publicly stated anything. Trying to 'prove' he's with this person or was with that person. POSTING HIS PERSONAL WRITING BLOG. @'ing him rude and disgusting things that shouldn't be said in public. Trying to get close to people who are close to him to get the 'scoop'. DM'ing anyone who happens to meet him in order to try to gain information. STALKING HIS LOCATION. Interrupting friends/family live feeds on IG to ask question about him. Any kind of basic harassing behavior.

That is most definitely intrusive and disgusting. Being a fan isn't being privy to everything that happens in his life and demanding his time. It's about celebrating a talented man's work. At the end of the day, it IS work for him and his private life - unless he offers information - should be off the table.

You don't seem to be guilty of doing this. So please don't leave. The fandom isn't "full up", it's just at times full of people who claim to be fans, but have parasocial relationships with a celebrity and cross the line. We could do with less of those.

Love Pedro. Celebrate him. Scream over him. Go gaga over all this characters and just love him to pieces. Interact with your faves and perhaps post some of those stories you've been squirreling away (I bet it's not shit)

Fans who respect his privacy and still want to love him are exactly the kind of fans that are needed.

#pedro pascal #fandom #be a respectful fan

61 notes · View notes

ama-artistic · 11 months

Text

Part 7

With a sense of awe, Cyprus peers down the corridor-like streets. Buildings stretch towards the sky so high, they seem to kiss the clouds. The sight makes the pony question their decision, a seed of unease taking root. Yet, Cyprus is resolute and finds themselves trotting down the bustling streets in search of employment. All around, a myriad of ponies and other creatures are engrossed in their daily routines, absorbed in the pulsating life of the cityscape. "How does everyone remain so calm under so many watchful eyes?" Cyprus wonders.

As they venture further, their confidence begins to waver. The road leads to a busy trading area teeming with goods and services, and beyond that, a bustling construction site. Musicians play vibrant tunes, the clinking of bits echoes from the marketplaces, and a vendor samples their own wares for quality assurance. It's a symphony of urban life.

But then, there's a sudden BOOM! Smoke billows from a nearby alley where a unicorn emerges, coughing and sputtering. A magic spell must've gone awry. At the same time, a group of Pegasi hang a banner in front of a hospital - a sight Cyprus hopes the unicorn won't need.

Overwhelmed by the smoky aftermath and the flurry of magical particles, Cyprus freezes. A paralyzing fear grips them; the world spins, their heart races, and their once solid confidence crumbles. All the fears they harbored about losing themselves in the chaos of social interactions are becoming a reality. Cyprus is left questioning, "Why am I here? Where do I go? Who am I?" in the midst of the bustling city.

Featuring Characters From:

@lemon-sugarcoats-nothing

@nopony-ask-mclovin

@askdiscordwhooves

@askranksandfamily

@ask-wizard-sunburst

@ask-timerwhooves

@askbabblebrew

@askmintycafe

@ask-violinsunrise

@ask-dr-rabbit-the-vampire

@asklostcelestia

@bexdrey

Part 6 - https://www.tumblr.com/ama-artistic/719537455240527872/dusk-and-dawn-use-their-wings-to-buzz-up-to-keri

82 notes · View notes

faghubby · 7 months

Text

The dress

"Try it on" Keri said as I held up her wedding dress.

"What?" Did I hear her correctly. I looked at her with a questioning expression.

"OH go ahead, I know you want to" Keri continued. How did she know? I thought. She took the dress from me.

"Come on strip, let's see how it fits you" she smiled.

"Keri, I" I started she just put her finger to my lips.

"Nope, no lies. Now try it on" she held the dress as I removed my shirt and pants. She held it as I stepped into it. I didn't say a word as she buttoned me into the dress.

"You look gorgeous" she laughed. Having me turn. It was a full length prince's dress. Off the shoulders. With a beaded chest.

"Need to take this in a bit and maybe let out the waist some. Or just make you lose 5 pounds." She said as she pulled the top. And smothed the sides. I was excited as she fussed over me.

"Are you going to make a mess in your pants?" She teased as she saw my expression. "You better not get any on the dress" she warned. As she said that her mother walked in the room. Where did she come from we where home alone I thought.

"Now we will get you some false breast to hold this up" Keri told me. I just stared at her mother as she too started to fuss over the dress.

"Of course we will get you something special to wear underneath for after" Linda my future mother in law told me.

"He needs a proper fitting" Linda told Keri.

"I know mom. But I didn't want him freaking out in the dress shop" Keri told her.

"Okay let's take this off before you do make a mess" Keri told me. The two woman helped me out if the dress.

"He is much too hairy" Linda laughed.

"I know mom one step at a time" Keri shot back. I was still in shock.But my dick was hard and poking straight out at my mother in law.

"What is it mommy's bit tits" Keri laughed as she pulled down my boxer briefs. Exposing me to her mother.

"He is quite small isn't he" Linda commented.

"Yes, he is that's why I have lovers mom" Keri admitted. I had long suspected she cheated on me but never had the nerve to ask.

"Go ahead baby, play with yourself" Keri giggled. "That's what you do isn't it. Wear my clothes and play with yourself when I am out late" Keri teased. "You never asked, did you think I was working? Or did you know I was fucking everyone you know" Keri continued.

"Come on play with it in front of my mother" Keri teased. I was so embarrassed but wanted to cum as well that I started to jerk off. I used two fingers. And finished in under a minute. Keri caught my cum in her hand.

"I don't even have to force him mom" she held her hand to my mouth to show her.

"I know you like cum. I have video of you licking up your own. And you have eaten dozens of men's cum out of my pussy. You must of known" Keri said. I couldn't look at her but licked my cum fron her hand. Normally I would just taste it but Keri made me eat it all.

Keri had me stand there naked and confess every dirty secret to her and her mother. She knew everything already though. She showed me videos to prove it.

"You are going to wear this dress when we get married next month. And you will take on the submissive role in our marriage" Keri explained. Keri and her mother spent the next two weeks. Preparing me. First was hair removal. Permanent hair removal from my nose down. It was expensive and took several embarrassing trios to have it all done. She also locked me in a chastity cage. Had my asshole bleached. And my body tanned. My hair styled. My ears pierced, as well as my nipples, belly button, and balls. My nails where extended and polished pink. Alot of my friends freaked out and cut ties with me. Including the best man. Keri found me a replacement the same day. It was her current lover.

My sister also a bridesmaid. And really my only close family embraced the new me with open arms. As her sister.

Linda spent time with me, explaining what my role was to be as her daughter's sissy wife.

I was not to argue or complain ever. Just obey Keri.

I was never to expect sex. I just wasn't built for that

I was to take care of Keri, cook and clean for her. Be there for what ever she needed.

My wardrobe changed as well although I now only wore panties. Skimpy sexy ones at that usually in bright colors and designs. But also a bra all the time. My casual clothes all had soft features. Pink shirts, or tight jeans. Mixed with woman's leggings, blouses, even slacks with no pockets and side zipper. There where a two dresses. Long and bright flower prints. But Keri only had me wear them at home when we had company. Not that anything else I wore wasn't less embarrassing.

Keri also let me know that I would be a virgin bride. But she planned on correcting that on our wedding night. Keri had made no secret of any of this. She exposed me to everyone. Even started social media pages on several sites so people could follow my progress. It had only been three weeks and there was no trace of my former life.

"I wrote your vows for you" Keri said one night as she came home late. She grabbed my ass and kissed me. Then handed me the paper.

"I swear to love, honor, cherish, obey, worship, and serve Keri in sickness and in health. I swear to be faithful. While encouraging Keri not to be, I swear to remain subservient to her. Keeping myself physically fit and free of outside influences. I swear to agree with her always and never argue" I readoutlook.

"Keri i dont think i can do this" I broke down crying.

"You are so emotional" Keri giggled pulling me to her chest.

"Why don't we go to the bedroom" she took my hand and led me. She stripped me down to my bra and panties. Then undressed herself as I stood and watched.

"Now come lick my pussy" she told me. As soon as my tounge touched her I got a glob of cum on my tounge. Without a word I swallowed it.

"You are so good at that" Keri said her hands running thru my hair. "I was thinking we could start you on hormones, and discuss getting you some breast implants" Keri told me. As she came on ,y tounge she pushed out the last of her lovers seed. I cleaned it all up.

Keri moved me into the guest bedroom, she had it completely set up for me with a walkin closet and vanity table.although I still slept with her most nights. She wanted me to be comfortable if she bought home a man.

47 notes · View notes

thegodthief · 1 month

Text

The client I have a crush on at work, to whom I have never been inappropriate nor granted exceptions, with whom I have always strived to keep a professional relationship with even though they have called me out as queer and propositioned me in what was one of the most intense conversations in my life...

The person that made my ice-bound heart weep from intensity...

Was overheard by someone who realized the importance of what they heard and immediately came to me to tell me what was said.

"I can get anything I want from [Keri's Department]. I have her all but in my pocket, so let me know what you want and I'll make it happen. Don't worry about the rules. I can get around the rules. She'll bend for me, I know it."

The person who relayed this to me apologized for flat-out snitching, but they know how fiercely I defend my team and how vocal I am about my department being neutral towards the clients because even the appearance of impropriety is enough to start too much sticky shit. They said that normally such talk wouldn't mean anything because I am well known for keeping an emotional distance from all the clients, but there was something about this particular person that made them worry for/about me.

I confirmed to them that I am not in any relationship with any of the clients, physical, emotional, romantic, or other. I admitted that there were some clients that I did like to look twice at or enjoyed their presence a little more than others, but I did not permit the stirrings of the body determine the performance of my office. (They laughed at the idea that Keri might be appreciative of the human form.) I thanked them for telling me this information and confirmed that it would be held in confidence.

For one thing, that particular client had not requested anything beyond was their right to request. And I am subject to the very same checks and balances that I put in place to prevent undue favorable decisions. My second has the right and the duty to call me out if I make a mistake or if my decision appears questionable. My second has the right and the duty to go over my head if something isn't sitting well with them. All my team has that right, actually. Our department is just that important.

I admitted that I was dismayed and disappointed that the client's friendliness was actually a trap for improper entanglements. They asked me if I was disappointed because a client was making a slow trap for me, or because I thought I had found someone that could be a friend and was betrayed instead.

"Is it that obvious?"

"[Keri], your face didn't go on a journey, it went to a wake."

"Ah. Yea. This one stings. But I'll be okay. It just means I'll have to go back to being That Bitch™ to everyone. I won't say anything to [that client] because there is nothing to be said. I will maintain my distance and stoicism. This is all a show and I will play my part."

They apologized again for bringing me pain. I told them I would rather have the pain they brought me rather than be placed in a compromising position later. Again, the appearance of impropriety can be more damaging than any unauthorized approval.

The next day, that client came in to the office to request an indulgence that was not theirs to receive. Normally, I would come explain the matter to the client in person. This time, I asked my team to make a group exercise of examining this client's situation and briefly discuss the outcome. They all agreed that the client had asked for a privilege that was not theirs to receive. I sent my second and another team member to discuss the matter with that client.

That client initially refused to speak with them and asked for me directly. "She'll make time for me, I'm sure. Just tell her I'm here." My second confirmed that I was not available and that either they receive the information now or receive a phone call from my second later, but the matter had already been discussed and settled. That client huffed and grumped but accepted to hear out my team.

"So, that's the way it is."

"Yes."

"I guess I was expecting too much. I really thought... never mind."

The property notes were updated and my second raised an eyebrow when they saw I had noted that any further requests from this particular client were to be routed to my immediate superior. They waited until lunch when the office was empty to say anything.

"So, about [that client], I saw your note. That was personal."

"Yes."

"Want me to handle them if they come back?"

"Only if you are comfortable."

"Absolutely. Someone taught me how to be rude to clients and say 'no', after all. For what it's worth, I don't doubt you. But if this hurts, I'll take it from you."

"Yea, this one hurts."

"Mine."

It has been a few weeks since this happened. That client has come back several times, requesting to speak with me personally each time, and requesting something above what they are permitted to receive. Each time, it has been a different team member that has spoken to them. The one time they demanded to speak with a manager, my immediate superior came out to meet with them.

"Where's [Keri]?"

"She's working on a project and can't be disturbed until it's done. I'm her superior so whatever I rule, she has to uphold. Your request cannot be granted, and no one on staff has the authority to overrule that. Did you submit your written request to your board that does have the authority?"

"Never mind. I see how this is going to be."

They left and haven't been back.

If anyone else has picked up on my weakness, they have chosen silence. I am finally able to remark on the matter. All of my relationships have ended poorly, and after a decade of wondering what the fuck is wrong with me, the one time I allow myself to consider the possibility of an idea, and it winds up being an exploitative trap.

I am proud of my team, of my second especially.

I am thankful for my superior's choice to not interrogate me about the one fucking time that Keri chooses not to engage in a matter.

But, I am tired. I am very tired.

#Keri goes to work.#And chooses the pain of solitude in lieu of being made someone else's tool.#Again.

15 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 11 months

Text

The Dream - Chapter Twenty One.

Huge thanks to everyone for their continued support :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 3,294

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Hello, Keri, my love! I am so sorry, a thousand apologies for calling you on a Saturday morning when I know you’ve likely been out last night getting very, very drunk!”

Those warm tones of a mostly Indian accent, punctuated every so often with little American twangs, were the last she expected to hear at 10am that morning, getting out of bed and heading into the bathroom so as not to wake Angel.

“Uncle Sunni!” she gushed excitedly, softly clicking the door shut and closing the toilet lid to take a seat.

“The one and only!” he chirped, Keri grinning widely. She swore, for every year that she’d known him, his accent had gotten stronger for returning to his parent’s homeland. “How are you, darling?”

“I’m really good! How are you and aunt Bee? And my cousins?”

“We are all very well, thank you for asking. Saanvi has decided she is a Miley Cyrus girl now, so this is all we have playing in the house, Sita is doing well with her dance classes, and Sanjay is awful. Please come and take him away!” His joke about their youngest had her in soft fits, Sunni continuing. “Listen, I was calling to get a hold of my brother-in-law, is he around? I cannot get through to his cell, your mother’s neither,” he spoke, hoping that all was okay with the family.

“Well, mom is in at work today doing some overtime, and I think David might be working on his truck. I don’t know, I’m not at home right now,” she revealed, finger combing her messy hair.

“Ahh, I shall keep trying him, then. He is probably listening to that bloody god-awful Rainbow music. Since you’ve been gone? Since I wish you would go, more like!” he exclaimed, snorting with laughter.

“That’s a classic!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, classic nothing!” Sunni yelled, his volume making her laugh. He always got louder by about twenty decibels whenever excited or trying to make a point. “That and his Boomtown Rats! I don’t like Monday’s? Nobody does, Bob Geldof! Bloody sit down and be quiet!”

She sat there in hysterics at his usual comic observations. Sunni was one of very few people who could legitimately make her cry laugh, her sides hurting. Usually from the hilarious banter he and Bee got into together, or the berating of her stepdad’s taste in music.

“So where are you, then? You say you’re not at home, are you in work? Did I disturb? I am sorry if I’m getting you into trouble,” he then asked, courteous as always.

“No, I quit my job recently. I needed more time at the weekends, plus with leaving college approaching and not wanting to have anything to tie me down so I can travel a little, I needed to do it soon anyway,” she began in explanation. “I’m at a hotel right now, my boyfriend is up visiting from Southern Cali.”

The noise of interest Sunni made had her in fits once more. “Oh! There is a new boyfriend on the scene! Have you been with him for long? Would I approve? What is he like?” She sat and gave him a brief outline of Angel to pacify his multiple questions, Sunni making little ‘umhm’ noises as she spoke.

“It sounds like you are very happy with this man, early days or not! I would fetch your auntie for you to have your obligatory girl’s talk, but it is her turn currently trying to get Sanjay to bed, and he is being an absolute horror about it!” Her youngest cousin Sanjay had just turned two and was most definitely living up to the term terrible two’s. “Anyway, I might as well tell you why I was trying to call David, share with you our news. I have been accepted for a post at Utah Valley Speciality Hospital, so good news, darling. We are returning to America.”

“Oh my god!” she screamed, suddenly clasping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, that’s amazing!” she then added much more quietly, drumming her feet softly against the tiled floor. “I can’t wait! When do you come back?”

“Not for another three months, just while we finish getting everything sorted at this end, selling the house, etcetera. We didn’t tell anybody, just in case it didn’t come through, but now that it has and there is also a chance that your aunt could have a job also opening up at the same hospital, now that Sanjay is of preschool age and she can return to work, we felt confident in sharing the news.” he explained, delighted at his niece’s reaction.

They chatted for a short time longer before ending their call, Keri absolutely ecstatic to have some of her favourite family members returning. Tying her hair up, she brushed her teeth and took a quick shower, coming out to find Angel checking his phone.

“What was all the excitement for? I heard a squeal of ‘oh my god’,” he grumbled, still sounding half asleep as he placed his phone back down, a hand sliding into her towel to stroke her hip.

“That was my uncle on the phone. He was trying to get a hold of my parents, but they’re not picking up. Anyway, he told me he and Bee are moving back over here, he’s got a job at a local hospital, so I’m over the moon that I’ll be able to see them regularly instead of once a year,” she shared.

“Yeah? That’s great, baby. I know you hated that they lived halfway around the world,” he replied brightly, just as his stomach began to growl. She raised an eyebrow, shaking her head as she leaned to kiss his abdomen. “I think I need feeding.”

An hour later and they were sitting inside a small restaurant, hard wood surfaces, Edison light bulbs and plants strewn over the large shelves that flanked the black walls, Keri bouncing in her seat with excitement at one particular dish on the menu.

Angel looked over at her with a smile. “You just saw the peanut butter pancakes, didn’t you?”

“I did!” she squeaked. How well he knew her. Anything with peanut butter, and Keri was on it in an instant.

Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it gently, thinking how adorable she was. “Y’all a hundred percent too cute, mamacita.” Her beamed smile made his heart skip a beat, sitting there feeling like he was the luckiest guy in the world. While the waited for their food, they sat and discussed her ever nearing departure from college, meaning that for the following three weeks they wouldn’t be able to meet with her workload going into overdrive in preparation to finish, but when she did, she had some plans.

“I’m going to book going over to Galway, but not for as long as I originally wanted to. If you could come then that’d be great, I think Aaron and Rachel are down, Frankie too. Jaime won’t be because of work. So yeah, we’re planning on that to be for two weeks. Then I was thinking of driving down to Santo Padre, maybe basing myself there for a while, travelling around Cali. If you don’t mind, that is?”

He put on a thoughtful face, scratching his chin. “Hmm, do I mind having my beautiful, sexy, funny, amazing girlfriend around more often? Hmm, lemme think on that.” She began laughing softly through her nose, leaning over to kiss him. “Of course, I don’t mind.” Despite the joviality of his statement, he felt a pit in his stomach at hearing her plans to travel. He pushed it down, though, reasoning that she wanted to stay with him in her time between.

“Good, because you’re stuck with me now.” There was truly nobody he’d rather be stuck with. Their weekend went by in a blur, Keri holding him tightly before he departed, crying in his arms at how much she anticipated she was going to miss him. He hated leaving her behind whenever he had to go home again, but the buzz inside of knowing he’d get so much more time with her over the spring and summer alleviated the sadness of being separated from her.

While they were parted, he took his mind off it by putting in some serious time around the yard, taking on extra shifts, deciding to re-decorate his bedroom and make it look a little better than the mismatching bare essentials vibe, seeking some advice from a certain lady.

“You need a theme!” Sharise exclaimed, taking a cart from the front of the local homeware store, buzzing already. If Mrs Reyes thrived on anything, it was a decoration project.

He viewed her with mild disgust, his nose crinkling. “A theme? Nope. I saw a picture online and I want that. Dark green walls, white ceiling. I got new furniture on the way, too. I just need things to make it look less empty.”

“Rug, lamps, artwork, candles,” Sharise began to list.

“No candles!”

“Yes, candles!” she stated emphatically. “Keri likes them, she told me which is her favourite. Black coconut by Yankee, and they sell them here.”

He took a pause for a moment, his brow creasing. “Are you two making plans behind my back? Is this a little scheme you’ve cooked up to get some damned chick litter all up in my space?”

Sharise threw her head back, entertained at the chick litter term. “No! We were chatting the other night, she replied to one of my stories I put up with my candle collection all burning, and she mentioned she liked Yankee candles about as much as I do. Us girls talk about things like that, you know.”

“Hmph.” His mutter was then followed by a speedy swerve around the cart, Sharise attempting to put some large cushions into it. ”No cushions! My couch is fine as it is!”

“These are for the bed,” she clarified, gently slapping his arms, grabbing two more that were slightly darker.

“I got pillows, I don’t need ‘em!”

“They’ll finish the bed nicely, add a little depth of comfort.”

His face was a picture of confusion. “They add... what?”

“And when you’re having sex, you can pop a couple underneath your lady and they’ll tilt her hips in a way that means you get to hit a whole other host of different angles.”

He nodded, gesturing to the previously frowned upon items. “Alright, they can stay.” She grinned, tossing her braids over her shoulder as they continued, smug that she knew exactly what to say in order to get around his protests. He was, as she expected, still difficult, though.

“Sharise! Put it back,” he ordered, pointing as she wrestled with a giant, white sheepskin rug from the rolls gathered at the back of the store.

“You’re going for bare floorboards, right?”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am.”

“Then you need a nice rug to tie the room together!”

Depth of comfort and tying the room together. Her chosen language was completely lost on him. “But then I gotta vacuum the damned thing!” His complaint was accompanied by a little show of drama, folding his arms over the cart handle, resting his head down and regretting his decision to involve his sister-in-law.

“No, because the fleece is too long, it’ll get caught in the rollers. You just go shake it outside, et voila! Done.” Into the cart it went, Angel muttering in mild despair. Fluffy rugs. Was this what his life had become?

The rest of the store was browsed rapidly, Angel actually being able to make his own choices, loading up on photo frames he planned to put some of Keri’s photographs into after he’d had them blown up, a set of white plaster skulls that looked remarkably like the real thing, Sharise adding bits and pieces as she went for both him and herself. The large, black and grey vase with black birch twigs was not one of his choices, but he allowed it. Begrudgingly.

“So, you seem to be very content with Keri, then, with this talk of her coming to stay for a while,” Sharise observed, finishing the large mouthful of Cuban sandwich she’d just taken at a bar she’d driven them to, telling Angel she’d at least buy him lunch in apology for terrorising him in the home décor stakes.

He smiled, thinking of her. “I really am, she’s cool. Can’t wait to have her come kinda live with me, even though I think it’ll only be temporary.”

She noticed he sounded a little dejected by that. “Because of her travelling? You two are so sillily in love with one another, I can see her making Santo Padre her base when she isn’t, you know. I know it’s still early days, but you two fit together so well.”

He scratched the back of his neck, his brow furrowing. “I sometimes wonder if I’m the one who’ll be temporary. She’s so ambitious, and young still, too. Makes me wonder if we’ll last.”

“Well, just see how it goes, but don’t write off a future with her just because she has ambitions!” she gently suggested, reaching to squeeze his hand. “She doesn’t have to be around you all the time to be in a committed relationship with you.”

He snorted softly, looking uncomfortable, clamming up as she predicted he would. She would press, though. She’d heard of this before. “I did wonder, when you’d have your wobble.” His frown prompted her to continue. “Lucy told me, that back when you guys got together, you had a little bit of a freak out over whether she’d meet anyone else, and I suppose that’s rearing its ugly head again, with talk of Keri going off travelling around. You think she’s going to meet someone you assume to be better, don’t you?”

He grunted.

“Angel,” she spoke softly, reaching to stroke his face, tilting his head up. “You need to start putting to bed these feelings that you aren’t good enough. You are. Did Lucy find anyone else? Nope. So, there’s no saying Keri is going to. She’s crazy about you, for heaven’s sake! And I know what you’re gonna say, that other women in the past have only seen you as a short-term fling, but my love, that’s because it’s all you’ve offered to them, whether consciously or not.”

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right," he finally admitted, realising that it was his self-sabotage coming back to haunt him. As soon as he fell in love, it was only a matter of time before it came bubbling up to the surface, his fears of loss, of not being good enough.

He’d been pushing it down into his darkest depths for the last two weeks, ever since they’d confessed their love. It had been festering a little closer to the surface since her talk of travelling over breakfast the last time he’d seen her, though. The little pit in his stomach he’d felt? It had predictably taken root, no matter how much he didn’t want it to.

Looking over at Sharise, he felt his little padlocked gate begin to strain. If there was one woman he always opened up to, it was her. “I don’t want to wreck it all, but I’m kinda scared I will. I can’t just be happy. My fucking brain has to freak out and cause drama. Which I usually then fuckin’ thrive on.”

It suddenly clicked with Sharise, the sprucing up of his home. He wanted to hopefully make Keri feel as if it was hers, too. He wanted to find more ways to entice her return, hence doing away with the bachelor pad look, albeit with slight reluctance. Oh, he was too adorable, in such a beautifully, partially broken way. From what Keri had told her in exchanges messages, chatting online in order to get to know each other more, he had no reason to feel insecure. Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. People were rarely so simple.

“Angel, the only way you’re going to wreck it is by listening to that toxic little voice in the back of your head instead of Keri. Have faith. She came into your life for a reason. There’s no way that dreaming of her before you even met her is anything less than destiny. Believe in it. You were doing great until you let the panic creep in.” Taking another bite of her sandwich, she winked, Angel determined to take her advice on board.

It didn’t help that he was only a week into a three-week separation from her, but he did work hard to keep Sharise’s advice in mind. As if the universe had heard his doubts, he received a notification one night, painting well into the small hours after returning from dealing with club affairs, wiping his hand on a spare piece of cloth as he crawled over the painting sheets to grab his phone. Keri had tagged him in an Instagram post.

‘I don’t even know how one man can be so amazing. He’s the sexiest, the funniest, the loveliest, the best. I miss you, gorgeous. Can’t wait until this is us again.’

He smiled at viewing the image, one Keri had taken in the hotel room on the bed as she’d sat astride him, her hand reached out cupping his cheek, Angel smiling up at her as the sun shone in through the window and bathed him in bright light. He remembered just how happy he’d felt, when she’d taken it, his heart fluttering at the memory, scrolling to his call list and tapping her name.

“Hey, you free to talk?”

“I am, I have a few spare minutes,” she replied, waiting for her coffee to pour, prepared to work right on through until the morning and then sleep for a few hours before she started again. “How are you? I hate that tomorrow is Saturday and I won’t have you here. Sucks.”

He was surprised to hear she was still up doing her work, since she’d mentioned earlier when they’d messaged that she’d be spending the entire day doing such. “You got some serious dedication there, for it to be 1am and you’re still working. As for me, yeah, I’m alright. Missing you like fuck, though.”

She made a soft noise in her throat, picking up her large mug of coffee (a two-pod creation) and turning the machine off. “I miss you too! Two weeks and I’ll be free, though, get to come and spend ten days with you before Galway. Did you ask Bish, if you can swing that kind of time away?”

“I did,” he sighed, “and I can’t. I could come for a week, but he can’t lose me for two.”

She was bright in her reply, all optimism. “Well, that’s better than nothing! Come out with us for the week, then head home. How about that? I’d rather at least have you there for a short time rather than not at all. These places I want to travel to, having you there by my side would mean so much. I know it’s corny, but the whole making memories thing is important, you know?”

Her words made him smile, the more rational side of him seeing clearly how stupid his self-doubt was. He knew he wouldn’t likely overcome it immediately, but what she told him had helped. “Yeah, querida, I know. I love you.”

“And I love you too. Listen, I have to hit the laptop again, but I’ll call you tomorrow, after I’ve had some sleep. Night, gorgeous.”

“Night baby.” Ending the call, he looked around at the half-painted walls. They weren’t the only work in progress.

#angel reyes #Angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fic #angel reyes smut #Angel reyes imagine #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc smut #mayans mc imagine

32 notes · View notes

otherpeoplesheartachept-2 · 6 months

Text

day 6: That Sort of Love

Agatha's trying to figure herself out, and why she can't seem to love like others do.

Rating: T

Length: 921

Warnings: none

Read on AO3 or below the cut :)

I thought that dating Niamh meant I was normal.

She's handsome and smart and wears her heart on her sleeve even when she's trying to be a tough prick. She's great at kissing, and sex, and she stopped holding doors open for me when I told her I hated it. I thought I could love her.

I should love her, but there's something wrong with me.

I thought dating Niamh, and wanting to kiss her, meant the rest would come to me. But I was right when I said I don't have the right kind of love inside me. I didn't love Simon in the way I was supposed to, and now I don't love Niamh in the way I should.

It's worse because I know she loves me. She hasn't said it, but she's fixed up a leak in Ebb’s barn roof. (I guess it's my barn now). And she told me she's drawing up plans to fit the bathroom with a claw-foot tub, after I mentioned I’ve always wanted one of those. And who else would Niamh leave the clinic early for just to get a bite to eat?

I don't deserve her. I try to pay her back: I bought her hair-styling products, I put kissy emojis in my texts even though it makes me feel like I’m lying, I moan extra breathy when she eats me out because I know it turns her on.

But I don't love her.

People speak of romantic attraction like it's this huge, magical (Normal type of magical) thing, and I just don't get it.

What's a girlfriend beyond a friend you like to fuck?

(I know there must be more to it though, asexual people exist, and they can have romantic feelings).

I asked Keris once how she knew she wanted to be with Trixie. She said things just felt different with her. But I don't feel different about Niamh. I like her like I like Penny. (Okay that's a bad example, I definitely like her more than Penny.) I like her like I like Ginger; like I liked Minty. Except I’ve never imagined what it’d be like to sleep with either of them.

I told Niamh we should break up, because I can't seem to love her in the same way she can love me. She was pissed about that. I know she's insecure about ending up as nothing but an experiment for straight girls. I’m not straight though, I don't feel romantic towards men either. And after trying once with Simon I think it's safe to say I don’t ever want to sleep with a man.

We didn't talk for two weeks after I said we should split.

And I cried for most of it.

I felt so stupid. After all, I’m the one who called things off, I’m the one who said I don't love her. But Niamh’s still my friend, I do enjoy her company. I wish I could be normal for her.

I turned to Penny, (because who else do I have? I’m not about to go to Simon with my girl problems), told her what was going on with Niamh and I, how I want her, but I can’t make myself love her the right way. I don’t want to build my life around her and get married with two kids, I don’t want to feel like we have to go on dates often enough or we’re failing, I don’t want her to treat me like a girlfriend.

Penny’s American asked why there had to be a right way to love. I wanted to slap him. I refrained though, and he asked another question: if I’d ever considered I was aromantic.

And well, no… I hadn't. Seven Snakes, maybe I am. But what does that solve? I can’t very well tell Niamh I just want to use her for sex, can I?

The American tried to tell me that’s not how it has to work. He’s annoyingly emotionally mature and knowledgeable about ‘alternative’ relationships.

I thought about what the American said for a bit. And I tried preparing this big long explanation to give to Niamh, but then I got scared and deleted it off my phone. And then one of the goats got a rusty nail stuck in his hoof, and I thought it was infected so I had to go to the clinic. And of course Niamh was the only one that could help.

She didn’t say anything about us while she examined the hoof. It hurt a bit how coldly professional she was.

I tried to play along, I wanted to, coward that I am. But I thought about going home alone and feeling the loss of my closest friend for the 14th night in a row. I didn't want Niamh to be a stranger again. So I made myself say something. And then I was saying too much. I started rambling on and on like: I’m not straight and I do like you but I might be aromantic and it’s great when we fuck, and I worry I can’t give you what you deserve but it’s not that I never want to see you it’s just I don’t know exactly what I do want. I know I want it with you though, is that okay? Can you trust me? Can you follow my lead on this?

Niamh said she had to think about it. And she let me kiss her when I left.

Fair enough.

So, I guess, now we wait.

#I wrote this very quickly bc I didn't have anything for the wlw prompt and I'm not sure it's any good #but I tried to do aromantic agatha justice #aromantic agatha wellbelove #carry on countdown #coc 2023 #agatha wellbelove #Niamh Brody #brobelove #fanfic #corascrap

10 notes · View notes

kerizaret · 2 months

Note

🐶 🧸 🦉

For the ask game

Already answered 🐶 (close to middle but leaning more into cat)

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

Honestly just... bed... I don't really nap outside of home so if I do it's just in my own room

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

Oh definitely a night owl. Wish it wasn't true but Motivation and Creativity decided they're going to take the night shift in the brain company. And I love sleeping long or just laying in bed in the morning

#asks #keri rambles #lynnie tag #i got so many questions! :000 #thank you everyone!

2 notes · View notes

frecklystars · 3 months

Text

lars and the real girl except it's lars catching a falling star in the palm of his hands... and the star is also a human but she's too anxious to come out. she stays in the form of a star, but around lars, she'll take her human form when they're alone together. or so he claims

so he cradles her star form in his arms all day calling her "keri" his "wish come true" and everyone assumes he's carrying around a piece of plastic that glows really bright with a special light bulb at 100000 lumens or something. nobody believes him when he says she is really a human girl. or a star. because why would you be able to hold a flaming hot ball of gas in your bare hands without disintegrating or going blind, and how is the star still ever present, ever glowing without snuffing out? of course nobody believes him.

lars asks karin and gus to let keri stay. karin offers the pink room and he says in a hushed voice "ohhh no. nooo, keri..." he whispers very quietly "keri has c-ptsd so she can't... she can't look at the color pink... she can't look at a lot of things, and pink is one of--" but then he holds the star up to his ear as if she's talking to him and he says "oh. oh. baby are you sure? ok..." he lowers the star to his chest and says "ok she's ok with it if we put some of her favorite barbie dolls in there. she's going to try. but she says i need to hold her the whole time"

his hands get shaky sometimes when he's alone, when something triggers him. he's cradling the star to his chest, blinking harshly, shaking his head, trying to stop thinking about it, but he can't. she doesn't judge him. she knows exactly how he feels. she'll take human form and wrap her arms around him, he'll cling to her for dear life. her hugs dont "hurt" like other people's hugs. they're close enough to where he feels more comfortable with her touch where it almost never bothers him at all, just like she grows more comfortable with him, and even still she limits how often she hugs him or holds his hand because she never wants to overstep, and he does the same for her

when she starts to take human form more often, going out into public as a whole entire person, flesh and blood, the townspeople are like "???? oh. you mean lars wasn't... i mean... oh. ok. this was legit a person this entire time. ok" karin is relieved and happy for lars while gus is like "omfg the stress i have been put through. my dude. this shouldnt even be possible"

keri is quiet, like lars. keri doesn't like crowds, like him. has anxiety that makes her completely shut down. just like him. she doesn't like to be touched either, but she isn't as repulsed to the degree lars is. they find a balance. lars wears several layers to avoid skin on skin contact. keri is the opposite, she hates the feeling of fabric rubbing her skin, always wearing a loose t-shirt and shorts or a long skirt. lars can handle very light, soft touches, but keri absolutely cannot; someone has to firmly grip her if they're hugging her or holding her hand. so when he holds her hand he makes sure to squeeze it tight to apply pressure. and she makes sure to rub her thumb lightly over his knuckles. some moments when she's overstimulated she says "i don't want to be kissed right now, but you can put your head on my lap if you want" and he's smiling and laying his head in her lap without question, and she pets his hair gently. sometimes for maybe a few hours she won't want to be touched at all, and lars is okay with that. but as she feels less anxious and finds new habits during the day to avoid being overstimulated, she grows more comfortable with being touched and finds herself feeling more at home in this new universe she dropped into.

he finds comfort knowing keri's love is infinite. that it's literally her purpose, to travel through stars, travel through dimensions, to give love to all kinds of different people in different ways. he feels so lucky to be one of those people. she gets him like nobody else. she gives him some of her stim toys, things he didn't know existed but it helps him cope monumentally. he knows he can break down in front of her and she won't judge him. he doesn't have ptsd but he does have trauma and he is there to hold her when she is going through a flashback or jolting awake from a nightmare. he holds her tight and tells her she's safe, nobody's gonna hurt her ever again because he'd never let them. never never never.

normally with my main F/Os i like to exchange jewelry as a token of affection, but with lars specifically i would give him a sensory fidget bracelet. he'd love to roll the beads between his fingers, flick the little glow in the dark spinner. it would all be pastel colored just like keri's clothes, he'd love looking at it and thinking how "a real wishing star" gave it to him. probably has a "k" charm attached to it too just like ken's, just like K's, just like luke's, just like driver's.

keri has to vocally stim sometimes too, so he'll walk with her in the woods by the lake where he grew up and they'll sing together when she's feeling restless and needs to release some sound.

anyway can you tell i rewatched lars and the real girl and had Normal Feelings about my self ship

#love notes #IM HAVING FEELINGS OK. THANKS #while i watched this movie i was like 'oh i dont think he'd like me at first. im not sure how to write myself into his space'#and my friend watching w/ me said 'well arent you part star or something?' and i said BY GOD YOU'RE RIGHT #LARS MAKES A WISH ON A STAR AND BABY THAT WISH IS ME 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟#💕♬♪ ♡☆ I just wanna be your lovin' teddy bear 🌟🧸♬♪☆

7 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 2 years

Text

The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 1

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world wherehis ex-wife is not the only ‘ex’ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. ✨💖Inspired by and based upon absurdthirst’s Tequila💖✨

Rating: G but this blog is Always 18+! Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: Mentions of: divorce, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption. Summary: Going to pick up his date from her office turns into a rollercoaster night for our dear Marcus Pike. Notes: Welcome to a brand new series and hang on for the ride! This should be a fun one, and Keri and I are really excited to spend time with Marcus once again.

Marcus hums as he searches for a parking spot. The building was off the Mall, a few streets over and it meant that he wasn't going to have to fight for a spot from overeager tourists who didn't realize how big their rental van was. Not that he begrudged anyone coming to the capitol to tour some of the amazing museums and monuments. He encouraged it, but the heavy summer travel traffic had given way to fall and he was enjoying the cooler temperatures. His stomach flutters slightly, not as much as it has from other women, but he tells himself that it's just because this is only the fifth one. He's trying to take things slow, although he doesn't know how sleeping together on the second date counted as slow. Maybe because he wasn't already planning out his future with the pretty restoration technician. He parks and hops out of his car, ready to pick her up from work since her own caar was in the shop. Reservations for Ambar were already set for seven o'clock and he was looking forward to sharing a bottle of wine and learning more about Silvia.

The FBI badge still pinned to his jacket means most people let him go by easily, with only security asking him to stop to check that his clearance is, in fact, authentic. The restoration labs are on the lower levels of the building with the offices above, and the large bullpen-style office full of conservationists that work specifically on photographs is on the second floor. He knows the building roughly at this point, mainly knowing Silvia's directions on how to get from the front door up to her desk in the second-floor photo office. She's been staring at the clock for the last half hour, intentionally a little overdressed for work so that they could go someplace nice for date number five.

She really, really likes Marcus and has been telling her little trio of work girls about him since the beginning, but doesn't have the same relationship experience he does since she's a few years younger. She's taking her boss's advice though - since Silvia adores her boss - and taking things slow. Not rushing into things is key, she's been told. Silvia sighs, glancing at the clock again right before the pebbled glass doors to the bullpen open.

"Hey you!" She calls out, waving enthusiastically. There's no one else in the office now so she can be as excited as she likes.

"Hey." His smile is easy, making the dimple in his cheek show as he puts a little bit of hustle in his step to reach with short statured brunette and give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Slow, he reminds himself. Moving too fast has resulted in a failed marriage and a failed engagement as well as plenty of relationships in between. "Are you ready?" He asks as he pulls back to smile at her again.

"Yeah, just let me send this e-mail and we can get going." She nods and sits down again quickly to type out two more sentences before hitting send. When she pops up again and grabs her purse the sound of commotion comes from behind a closed door on the other end of the bullpen. "Oh!" Silvia grins and motions toward the door in question. "You should meet my boss while you're here! She's awesome. Best bar trivia teammate ever."

Meeting Silvia's boss wasn't high on his list of things to do for the night, but he was always agreeable on small things like this. Plus, it was good to know the boss in case he ever needed a favor. Cultivating friendships and contacts was important now that he was running the Art Crimes division as a whole. "Sure. Lead the way."

"She's great," Silvia promises, leading him across the bullpen before knocking twice and pushing open the door. The brass name plate glints in the stagnant office light but he doesn't notice the name on it. "Hey," Silvia hums, sticking her head inside. "I'm headed out, but I thought I'd introduce you to Marcus before we leave. He'd make a great addition to our trivia team, ya know." It's about the sixth time she's told her boss that, but that's okay. She's just excited.

Marcus was expecting a woman, he was sure that Silvia mentioned her boss several times, but to be honest - he hadn't been able to keep up. She had a tendency to jump from subject to subject that made it difficult to actually understand what she was talking about. He hears a wooden creak as the boss gets out of her chair and rounds the desk. He plasters a friendly smile on his face and starts to extend his hand. "Nice to mee—” his words die in his throat as he comes face to face with the last person he had ever expected to see.

His ex-wife.

"Marcus?" You freeze on the spot, the polite smile that had previously been painted across your face replaced with complete shock. In a split second it's like you're back in the Kappa Sigma house while the dreamiest sophomore in the world makes fun of your cheap ass margarita to the tune of some god-awful party playlist made by one of his brothers. You almost feel like you can't swallow, so taken aback at the sight of him that your jaw may as well have hit the floor.

He sees you in the Chi Omega t-shirt, pulled tight over your breasts and your head thrown back as you laugh at his jokes. Looking at him like he's the only man in the world. In this split second he can feel the weight of the cheap wedding band he had worn proudly on his finger as he whispers your name. "I— what are you doing here?" He asks in shock.

"You're standing in my office," you remind him, amusement creeping into your voice as you start to feel a little relieved that he's as surprised as you are.

"You guys know each other?" Silvia is standing beside him still, looking between the two of you in honest confusion until a thought seems to dawn on her that makes her smile. "Hey, Pike and Pike. I never put that together before. Are you like...cousins or something?"

Marcus's eyes widen slightly as he turns to Silvia, completely forgetting that she was there for a moment and now thrown back into the very awkward reality of the situation. "Uhhh," he shuffles slightly and braces his hands on his hips as he absorbs the information that you had not changed your name back to your maiden name. "Doctor Pike huh?" He sees the doctorate proudly displayed behind you. "That's— that's great."

"Yeah...it, uh...it took a while. But it was worth the work." Shifting awkwardly from one foot to another, you look back at Silvia with a pit swirling in your stomach, and the wall of realization that hits you is far less innocent than the one that just hit her. "Th-this is who you've been seeing?" You ask, eyebrows raised in a way that just begs her to say 'no'.

"Yup!" But Silvia doesn't seem to be reading the room at all, and she nods happily while reaching for Marcus's hand. "This is what, babe...date six?"

Hearing her call him babe almost makes you sick, but you manage to barely hold onto your composure. Silvia's a hard worker and a kind person who has been a good friend in the time since she was hired. She's sweet and deserves to be happy. You just desperately wish she wasn't off being happy with your ex-husband of all people.

It seems wrong to hold Silvia's hand but he doesn't resist. Instead, he gives her a weaker than normal smile and looks back at you in abject horror, as if he's been caught cheating. Although the divorce papers that he had in his files at home would beg to differ. "Uh, you talk about me to your boss?" He asks, terrified over what she might have said since they have been sleeping together.

"Of course," Silvia laughs like it's not a big deal. "I told you; I tell my girls everything."

You cringe internally, wishing you could just disappear into the floor at this point. When Silvia says everything, she means it. "We...we've been friends for a little bit..." you tell Marcus. It had happened kind of by accident, but it was nice to have friends at the office. Of course, now you'll have to avoid socializing with her outside of work like the plague, just to avoid running into Marcus randomly.

Silvia shines a sunny smile on Marcus. "So...are you guys related? It's so weird I never noticed the last name thing before."

“I— uh—” he flounders like a fish out of water for an answer and immediately looks to you to see if you will step in and explain. The idea that she had shared fucking him with you nearly makes him want to melt through the floor although you know firsthand what he’s like in bed. Fuck, you had taught him plenty about what women liked. “So, about that, uh, it’s kind of a funny story.” He chuckles weakly. “We’re not related…anymore.” It’s wrong, it’s so wrong but he can’t help but think that Silvia isn’t the brightest crayon in the box for not picking up on the same damn last name. It’s not like Pike is common.

"We're divorced." The kindest thing you can do is just get it out in the open, instead of letting yourself and Marcus wither away in the awkwardness. Maybe it comes out a little more harshly than you meant it to, but only because you're trying not to squawk or get emotional over it. Over him. Fuck he looks good... Nope, don't let yourself go there.

"You're...?" Silvia nearly hiccups, her small eyes blowing wide as she looks between the two of you. "I...I didn't know you were married."

"It was a long time ago," you murmur, desperately wishing you were one of those people who kept a bottle of liquor in your office.

“I told you that I had been married before.” Marcus defends himself, oddly hurt that you kept his name but people didn’t know you had been married. Apparently, the divorce hadn’t been as friendly as he had thought, especially considering he hadn’t wanted it. “I—” he looks over at you, reminded of how fucking beautiful you are before he looks away, over to Silvia. “We got married in college. Divorced three years later.”

"Oh...god, I—I had no idea that..." Reality seems to finally catch up to Silvia and she tries for a joke even as she cringes. "I mean, you've got great taste."

At this point, Marcus isn’t quite sure who Silvia is talking to, but he needs to get out of this room. “We have reservations at seven, so we need to go.” He offers quietly.

"Right." Silvia smiles again, looking up at Marcus and giving his hand a happy squeeze. "Well...I'll see you tomorrow." She tells you, obviously just as glad to get out of the awkward bubble of suffocation that is your office as Marcus is.

"Yeah..." You nod, but it's stilted and awkward. "Tomorrow." For tonight...you'll be going home to drink a bottle of wine alone on your couch.

******

"—'m sorry, it's weird right?" Marcus looks up from the glass of Pinot Noir to find Silvia shaking her head and looking almost panicked as her words rush out. He shakes his head, a little ashamed that he hasn't been paying attention to his date. His preoccupation with his ex-wife living in D.C. and apparently working as a director at the Smithsonian was all he could think about. All while studiously avoiding the thought that you looked amazing – just like you had the day you had moved out of your shared apartment the morning after the divorce. "I'm sorry." He shakes his head and gives her a smile that is meant to be charming but probably falls slightly flat. "Could you repeat that?"

“I said it’s weird.” Silvia repeats, sinking in her chair a little bit like he’s just confirmed everything she was saying. Marcus has been completely different tonight - distant and awkward and inattentive. She knows why, of course. She isn’t stupid, despite what she knows other people say behind her back. “She’s my boss, and hopefully still my friend, and I like you but there’s a lot of history here that I’m just not comfortable being in the middle of.” Silvia sighs slightly, leaning her elbows on the crisp tablecloth between them. “Maybe it’s best if we just end things here?”

“Hey—” Marcus immediately feels guilty, reaching out and touching the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, I’ve been horrible tonight. I am just— surprised.” He settles on that and watches her closely. It’s not her fault, he’s been perfectly happy with his dinner date with her up until an hour ago.

“And I get that.” She nods, not pulling away from him but also not returning the gesture of comfort. “It’s not like I’ve never been through a breakup. But…” she blows out a breath, heavy and loaded. “Let me ask you this. Why did you get divorced?”

“Nothing bad.” He’s quick to assure her, not wanting her to think there was ever anything acrimonious between you and him. “We just— we got married too young.” He sighs softly, remembering the pain both of you had felt when you realized that you were both on very different pages for what was the plan over the next ten years. “So we decided the smartest think we could do was divorce.” He chuckles. “Nicest divorce ever.”

“God, you’re so nice,” she groans, laughing despite herself. She’s not laughing at him, but at the situation on the whole. How incredibly weird it is. “So…nicest divorce ever but you didn’t keep touch?”

Marcus frowns slightly, shrugging his shoulders. The truth was, he hadn’t wanted to see where you ended up, it was too painful. “We just…lost contact.” He settles on that finally. “I decided to join the FBI.”

“And she went to grad school.” Silvia knows your career path. She’s looked up to you since you were a guest lecturer at George Washington University in her undergrad years. Granted that wasn’t so long ago - and maybe the fact that Marcus is nearly ten years her senior is part of what’s making her feel like an awkward kid caught between parents right now. “Look…I just…I don’t want anything to get awkward or uncomfortable because of me being friends with your ex-wife, and…if I’m honest, it already feels pretty awkward.”

Marcus sighs, pulling his hand away and his shoulders slump slightly. Fucking ironic, the relationship that he wasn’t rushing into, he was getting dumped. “I understand.” The food is barely touched in front of the two of you and he motions to the waiter, asking for to go boxes and the check. “At least you can take dinner home.” He jokes weakly.

“I’m sorry.” She is. Honestly, truly sorry. But it’s better that this is discovered now when they’re barely anything to each other than in six months when she’s had a chance to develop feelings. “At least let me pay for dinner. It’s the least I can do, since I’m the one…ya know…breaking things off.”

“No.” Marcus shakes his head and reaches for his wallet. “Don’t worry about that.” He’s not going to hold a grudge or have any hard feelings. In fact, he’s a little relieved as he shoots her a small smile. “My treat. Last time.”

“You’re a really great guy, Marcus.” Whether it hurts or helps, Silvia is at least going to tell the truth. “This is just a super weird coincidence. That’s all.”

“Well, it will be something you can awkwardly joke about later on.” Marcus tells her as he hands the bill to the waiter with his credit card inside and reaches for his wine glass.

“Maybe.” She hesitates before doing it, eventually reaching out to grasp his hand for just a brief moment when the waiter places her to-go box in front of her. “It’s been really great to know you, Marcus,” she murmurs, continuing the streak of awkwardness by smiling and silently walking out of the restaurant.

Marcus sighs and finishes his wine before the waiter brings back the credit card slip to sign. Maybe this was for the best he tells himself as he takes his own box and gets up so they can clear the table. Obviously it wasn’t ideal to date her when she works for you.

****** The fact that you got shit sleep last night is really your own fault. A bottle of wine and an entire bag of tortilla chips with guacamole is not dinner by any stretch of the imagination but you just couldn't get yourself to eat anything substantial. It had been snacking and getting steadily drunker while you tried desperately not to think about Marcus, culminating in an extremely ill-advised viewing of Casablanca whilst wine drunk and digging through the remainder of the chocolates your sister sent you from her last trip to the Godiva outlet. This morning you're tired and hungover, glad to have nothing to do but paperwork and a little office organization that you've chosen not to pawn off on the new intern. Doing it yourself from time to time so the interns can get more hands-on time in research suits everyone nicely. Having already had a cup of coffee in order to even get out of bed this morning, you didn't stop for your usual venti soy pumpkin white mocha and you're regretting it, just wishing you had that little treat to pick yourself up when the weight of your own shoulders seems heavier than normal.

Silvia is nervous as she walks into the office, depositing her purse at her desk and deciding that she would stop in the break room before she talks to you. This is very convoluted - despite the insistence that things are okay, she wants to clear the air. Your regular coffee mug is in the drying rack, so she makes you a cup of coffee before carrying hers and yours to the door that proudly displays Dr. Pike, Director on the brass nameplate.

"Come in." Even though the knock is hesitant, you still hear it, and you pull yourself away from hard-staring into the void just in time to see Silvia poke her head in the door. Ah, shit. It's not that you don't want to see her - she's hard working and very sweet and honestly you like spending time with her outside work most of the time - but today it's just...it's fucking awkward. "Morning, Sil," you murmur, trying for a smile.

“I—I brought you a cup of coffee.” She offers, holding up the mug that is still steaming. “And I—I was wondering if I could, uh, talk to you. About yesterday.”

"Thanks." Nodding as you accept your Bat-Symbol coffee mug, you swallow a sigh and sit down behind your desk. Silvia moves easily, shutting your office door and leaning on the edge of the heavy wooden piece of furniture you sit behind for at least a few hours each day. "What did you...erm...want to talk about?" You know what, technically, but not specifically.

Silvia bites her lip and decides to just come out with it. “I stopped seeing Marcus.” She blurts out. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

"Oh." Whatever you had thought, however fleetingly, that she might say, that was definitely not it. "I—um...you didn't have to do that...I mean, he's a good guy. Just because we're divorced doesn't mean I hate him or anything." In fact, you never did. And that was what made it so hard. "And besides, how I feel about him has no bearing on whether or not you should go out with him."

“You’re my boss.” She flushes slightly and looks down at her own milky coffee. “And I just— I told you all about sleeping with him.”

“Yeah…” Huffing slightly, you shake your head and take a sip of the sweet, equally milky coffee she made for you, humming in appreciation. “And as your boss, I agree that it’s a little weird. But as your friend?” She reminds you a lot of your sister, actually, which might have been tucked away in your subconscious when you hired her two years ago. “As your friend, I don’t want to stand between you and happiness. If that’s Marcus? Well…I—I would completely understand. I mean, he’s a great guy.” He had been your happiness too, for much longer than five dates.

“Why did you get divorced? I asked him but he just said you got married too young.” If he’s such a great guy, why wouldn’t you want to stay with him? You had kept his last name.

“That’s what happened.” You nod slightly, but it’s obvious from her expression that she isn’t buying it. “We were really young, Sil. I mean we were still teenagers when we met. I was Mrs. Pike by the summer before sophomore year.” It had been the whirlwind romance to end all whirlwind romances, and your sorority sisters had cooed over it much more readily than your family.

“High school?” Her eyes are wide and horrified. She hadn’t thought you were that young. How was that legal?

“Oh, no.” Shaking your head vehemently, you realize you definitely left out a few details. You’ll blame the hangover. “College. Marcus is a year older than me, and his frat at UPenn used to throw this big welcome party for all the new Chi Omega sisters…which was the sorority I had just rushed. He was on the verge of turning twenty and I was not quite nineteen.”

“Oh, good.” She’s relieved at that, but she still couldn’t imagine being married that young. “So you were a freshman and he was a sophomore?”

“Yep.” You feel like a damn bobble head doll from nodding so much, and you sip your coffee for one silent moment. “We couldn’t even have champagne at our own wedding. We were kids. So when I say he’s great, I mean that. We just…dove in too fast, ya know? By the time we were starting to think about careers, Marcus was starting to talk about kids. And I…I just knew that I wanted to have a career before we had to start making compromises.”

“Oh.” Silvia hadn’t even gotten close enough to think about things like that. She had been too focused on her school and hell; she had been in elementary school when you had gotten married. “So you didn’t want kids and he did?”

"Basically, yeah." It was more complicated than that. There had been a great deal of immaturity and a bit of your own fear involved, but you're really not in a place to go into too many details right now. "We got divorced the summer after I graduated."

“If you hadn’t, you might not be Dr. Pike right now.” She decides, nodding. “I doubt he would have wanted you to go to graduate school.”

"I don't know." Over the years you've come to terms with that. That you'll never know what could have happened if you had stayed married to Marcus Pike. It's something that you had tucked away into the back of your mind, thinking you would never see him again so it would never matter. Oh, how very wrong you were. "But considering I got my doctorate at the Sorbonne and Marcus is an FBI agent? There would have been a rocky road no matter what. I just have to believe that I made the right decision. It’s not like our career paths are geographical neighbors or anything."

Silvia contemplates that and nods, taking a sip of her coffee. "I'm sorry that I sprang seeing him on you. You looked very shocked. I just— yeah..." She sighs and stands. "For what it's worth, he was preoccupied during dinner last night." She knows the difference when people are just not interested in her rambling and being completely in another world and last night Marcus hadn't been in the present. He was most definitely caught up in the past, a past that heavily involved you it seems. Giving you a small smile, she moves towards the door. "I hope that it doesn't make things between us awkward." She continues. "I have a lot of respect for you and have really enjoyed learning under your guidance."

"If anything, I think this brings us a bit closer together." The smile you return to her is a little lopsided and off kilter, but that's pretty honest to how you're feeling at the moment. "Thank you for coming in and not just letting it hang in the air. That shows a lot of maturity, and I respect the hell out of you for it."

That makes Silvia smile brighter and she ducks her head. "I'll go get started on my work, boss." She says before she scampers out of your doorway, feeling better about the entire situation. Marcus was a good guy, sure – but she wasn't going to ruin her job for any man.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom

tCIGtDYE: @missmarmaladeth @afro-hispwriter @rosmarinus @mythrielofsolitude @jxvipike @avaleineandafryingpan @hnt-escape @supernaturalgirl20 @scorpio-marionette @bobafvcker @midnightevermore @dinoflower @pearl-aqua-tears @itsbaehyungbitch @pepperminticedcoffee @anticipayosbot @girlofchaos @speedynana @loveslide @noisynaia @just-here-for-the-moment @goodgriefitsawildworld @curiouskeyboard @iarellanouus @mymistery09-blog @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thenightdreamsballad @pondsofravenclaw @sherlock221b114679797 @pimmyxyone @theredwritingwitch @ghostinhours @timpletance @strawberryjamcheesecake @amb11 @a-little-shade-of-kiki @wildemaven @tuquoquebrute @supernaturalgirl @ellenmunn @iceclaw101 @toxicfrankenstein @catsandgeekyandnerd @missmarmaladeth @theincredibleinkspitter @agiroflee98 @lyonessofnarnia @we-could-have-been @totostits @scorpio-marionette @kikis-writing-world @trappistmonksofthefuture @danichz @88dragon06 @scorpionerd myrealmofchaos @movievillainess721 @firekissed13 @qseomik @acollectionofcells1 @captain-of-my-game1992 @alician87 @lovesbiggerthanpride @justgonewild @hiyorinatsuki @pinkrosethorne @apocalypticwafflekitten @groovycass @rebel-fanfare @d0cthunder @gooddaykate @purplerain04 @astridflowers

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #ex wife reader #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic #unexpected reunion trope #Agent Marcus Pike

284 notes · View notes