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#i am once again asking for u to pay attention to me

dragon-ascent · 3 months

Note

I wonder how Zhongli would feel if he came home one night, to find his lover surrounded by plushies of him (as an archon, dragon, and his current form) and cuddling a giant Rex Lapis exuvia plush?

Sure, he finds her skill at textile design impressive but he can't help but feel a bit jealous that a creation of fabric and cotton stole his beloved.

Jealous (and possibly pouty) Li is everything to me ;u; so here you go! Enjoy~

The first time you showed Zhongli a plushie you'd made of him in his miniature dragon form, words couldn't describe how touched and flattered he was that his beloved could find pleasure in creating plushies in his image. The fact that you loved him so much amplified his own love for you tenfold, and he couldn't ask for a better partner.

But then, the plushies started piling up. Big and small, fluffy and smooth, person and dragon. Zhongli didn't want to discourage you from making use of your exceptional crafting skills, especially seeing how happy you were, but once the plushies started taking up his side of the bed, he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy - something he wasn't accustomed to. Especially when it appeared that he was stealing you from himself in a way..?

It all comes to a head when he returns home after a week-long consultation overseas, wanting nothing more than to hold and be held by you. "Darling, I'm home."

No response. Well, that's all right, he thinks, as it's quite late and he wouldn't be surprised if you'd already fallen asleep. Zhongli pictures you nodding off while trying to stay up waiting for your husband, and a tender smile tugs at his lips.

But when he gets to the bedroom, a different scene awaits entirely.

There's the usual mountain of Zhongli-themed plushies around you, but it's...a lot bigger than he'd remembered. And in the middle of it all, you're wide awake and rolling about with a giant plushie of his dragon-Qilin form, about as tall as Zhongli himself is. Your eyes are closed and you're humming, petting the plushie as you do.

At first he's a mix of awestruck and besotted by the scene, but those feelings are swiftly overtaken by envy. Huffing softly, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

...You're minding your own business, stroking your soft Rex Lapis in utter contentment when suddenly the soft fuzzy cotton seems to morph into a smoother, scalier texture.

"Oh!" You open your eyes, seeing a more reptilian version of your creation staring back at you expectantly like a dog. Grinning, you cuddle him. "Wow, I really outdid myself with how realistic this one is!"

He lets out an audible huff now, and you laugh.

Your dragon husband curls up around you, fiery eyes transfixed upon you alone. "Pay attention to me," he murmurs, and there's a hint of a whine in his deep voice, "and me alone." He uses his tail to knock his cotton imposter off the bed.

But you're still being cheeky. "Well, technically these are all you," you say, holding up a little plushie of Zhongli wearing his white archon hood, but your husband only growls at it, which makes you giggle. You stroke his sorry, scaley ol' head. "You're so silly, Li."

"I am not silly," he answers earnestly, nuzzling his snout against your skin. Ah, how he missed your scent. Gently, he uses his clawed hands to keep your upper half in place while his tail coils around your lower half. Finally content, he closes his eyes and purrs.

You roll your eyes, smiling. "You're going to keep me like this?"

"Yes. You are to stay like this with me all night, my darling. Please do not object."

And you willingly give in, letting your lizard lover keep you in his hold like this until the sun rises again.

#sini writes #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #fluff #drabble #rex lapis #divider by cafekitsune

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st7rnioioss · 2 months

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౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ is there someone else?

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: angst, happy ending, fluff, kissing, not proofread!!!

a/n: hi guys. sorry if this sucks ass, ive never rlly attempted to write angst before. hope i did it somewhat right LMFAOOO.

i took inspo from @evie-sturns 's empty bed!! make sure to check theirs out if u havent already😉😉

౨ৎ

The last few days had been rough for you. Work had completely consumed all of your time and energy out of you.

Your days consisted of waking up, drinking a redbull, work, redbull, more work, and sleep. This cycle had left you completely ruined Friday night.

Finally, you closed your computer, looking at the clock in your kitchen.

12:46 am. Fuck.

You slowly opened the door into your and Matt’s room, finding him sitting back against the headboard, watching TikTok. You slowly snuggled into bed beside Matt, wrapping an arm around his waist, trying to pull him closer to you. He didn’t budge. You kinda expected him to put his phone down and wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace, but no.

“Matt, is everything alright?” you mumbled, looking up at him. He didn’t pay attention to his phone that was playing, but he was avoiding your stare.

“Hm,” was all he said, continuing to mindlessly scroll. This was very unlike Matt, which irritated you. What the fuck had you done to piss him off this much? Normally he wouldn’t keep his hands off of you.

“Alright..” you murmured, almost whispering as you turned your back to him, trying to fall asleep. Of course, you couldn’t. You never went to bed without a “goodnight” or at least a kiss on the forehead. There was silence for God knows how long, until he put his phone down to go to sleep. He turned his back against yours. This kinda pissed you off as well, but you didn’t act on it. Instead, you turned to face his back, running a hand from his shoulders down his back.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snapped, pulling away from your touch.

What the actual fuck?

“Matt, what the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve been acting strange all day! Just tell me what’s going on. Is it me? Work? Your brothers? Fans?” you tried guessing, but he didn’t budge. He didn’t want to join you for lunch earlier, dinner, even when you asked him if he wanted to go for a walk, which he normally never let down.

You were sitting up, leaning over his body that was in a fetal position. He then sat up in front of you, looking down at you, his face serious.

“You wanna know what’s wrong? You’ve been ignoring me all fucking week. We haven’t exchanged a word, you’ve gone to bed without telling me, and we’re eating dinner at different times now, and you’re always on your goddamn phone! Are you avoiding me?” he yelled with a frown, his lower lip quivering. What?

“Matt, you’re starting to sound like my mom! I’ve been working my ass off all fucking week, don’t put it all on me! I’m sorry that I’m busy working and can’t be all over you all the time, but I actually have meetings to be in, emails to answer, and reports to write!” you yelled back. Tears were now rolling down your cheeks. You didn’t realize it until now, but practically your whole body was shaking, from both anger, but also an intense amount of anxiety. You’ve only been in a fight with Matt once, and it never got to this point.

There was silence for a bit. Your eyes were darting between his, your breaths quickening.

“Y/n, is there someone else?” he then whispered, his teeth gritted. Tears were brimming in his waterline, ready to roll down his cheeks. You stiffened. Someone else?

“What- Matt, no! No, there is no one else!” you were blinking quickly, not even trying to hold back the tears that were forming in your eyes, once again.

“I’ll go sleep on the couch…” he whispered with a slow nod, grabbing his pillow from the bed, and standing up to walk to the couch. Um, what?

You lied in bed for an hour or two. Maybe three. Your mind was still processing what you and Matt had just discussed. Had I really been doing all that unintentionally? Am really such a shitty girlfriend? Then you decided to go down to the living room where Matt was. You just couldn’t agree to go to sleep while being mad at each other.

Slowly, you listed down the stairs into the living, immediately spotting Matt on the couch, again tucked up in a fetal position.

“Matt? Are you awake?” you whispered, leaning over him to run a hand through his hair. Matt then slowly turned his head, opening his red eyes to look at you.

“Oh, Matt..” you cooed, frowning your brows. He had been crying, hard. Matt’s pillow was basically drenched. You sat down on the couch, cupping his face to pull him into your chest.

Matt immediately broke into sobs, wrapping his arms around your waist, just above your hip.

“I’m so so sorry, Matt. Work has been sucking the energy out of me. I’ve been such a shit girlfriend,” your voice broke a couple of times as you whispered, pressing a kiss to his head. Matt was still crying, nuzzling his face into your shirt (which had been his once).

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have overreacted like that, I know how tough it can be. I’m so sorry, I just- I miss you. I feel like I haven’t spoken to you for a whole week,” he cried, pulling you even closer to him. His fingers were trailing up and down your back, occasionally rubbing circles against your soft skin.

“I know, and that’s my fault. I need to balance work and my life with you. You mean the world to me.” you chuckled slightly through your own tears. “And no, there is no one else. I’m so madly in love with you, you wouldn’t believe it,” you laughed, earning a soft chuckle from Matt as well.

He raised his head from your embrace, looking up at you with a soft smile.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispered, pulling you closer to him, and leaving a gentle kiss on your lips. A small smile played on your lips as he kissed you. You then pulled away, resting a hand on his cheek, gently wiping the, almost dried-out, tears off of his cheeks.

“I love you even more. And I’m sorry for being an ass, again. I swear, I’ll make it up to you this weekend,” you whispered, a giggle leaving your lips as you realized Matt was blushing.

You ended the night cuddled up with Matt on the couch. The both of you were way too tired to go all the way up to your bedroom, but you didn’t mind. At all actually. The tight space, huge soft blanket, Matt’s body pressed up against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Couldn’t get any better. He occasionally left small I love you’s, kisses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder, and the crook of your neck, which made you chuckle tiredly since it tickled.

“Matt stop, I’m way too tired. We can do this all day tomorrow, I promise, just please let me sleep,” you yawned, trying to push him away.

“Fine,” he huffed, leaning closer to you. “We should go out for lunch on Sunday. I’ll pay,” he mumbled, his voice rasped from the crying earlier, his fingers playing with your hair.

“Is that an invite? Or an order?” you giggled, turning your head to face him in the dim light from the moon.

“Take it as I don’t have a choice, hm?”

“Alright then, as long as you pay you’ve got my attention,” you joked, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You’re sure he was blushing because the rest he was saying just came out as stutters and nervous mumbles.

a/n: heloo i hope u liked this🤗 i dont know why i linked the song, i just really like the cover LMFAOOOO

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @toriiniie @lacysturniolo @ukiyosturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @sturniolho @cupidzsq

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo fanfic #Spotify

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evermoreal · 3 months

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captain price wants a baby 👼🏻🎀

author’s note. it’s ovulation szn. u guys are gonna have to physically restrain me from writing a pt 2 where they make the baby.

cw. none? pregnancy? fem reader.!

the moment you’d tried to sit, price had pulled you across his lap, laughing heartily when you squirmed as his beard tickled your neck. it was a quiet night, which had quickly become price’s favourites: his sweet girl’s warmth pressed into his chest while he fed you chocolates and washed it down with wine.

he’d be lying if he said he was completely listening to whatever story you were telling. it was difficult, with your eyes were glazed over and your lips were wet and your hand was pressed against his chest, gently scritching the bit of chest hair that poked out the collar of his shirt.

and, he wasn’t entirely paying attention to his own words when he said, “what’d’ya think about having kids?”

brows lifting, your mouth made a tiny ‘o’ shape. it closed and opened a few times, as if the words just wouldn’t leave your throat.

“kids?” you questioned, finally, a small furrow between your brows.

and although he hadn’t entirely meant to ask, he didn’t overly regret it, either. it wasn’t the first time he’d considered the idea. it was hard not to when your friends came by with their little ones; when a baby was in your arms, your face was always so soft. they would giggle when you made silly faces at them, and john couldn’t help but wonder. sometimes, when he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your frame, he’d brush a big hand over your belly and ponder what it’d be like — swollen under his touch with his child, your child.

quietly, price hummed, stroking a bruised knuckle over your cheek.

“i . . . “ you began, and your mouth was twisting the way it always did when you were trying not to smile. “i thought . . . i always thought you didn’t want kids.”

“i didn’t,” he answered, truthfully. “not until you. with you, it’s . . . different.”

he was close enough to hear your sharp inhale, and beneath his hand on your neck, he could feel your pulse quicken.

your voice was little more than a breath when you questioned, “different how?”

price tsked, eyes straying from yours as he thought over his answer. then, he said, “i didn’t really think abou’ it till my thirties, when the guys i knew started having ‘em. an’ then i’d see ‘em with their kids — they were different men. softer, i guess. an’ i didn’t think i had that in me.” his gaze, warm beneath the lamplight, met yours again. when he spoke, there was a lilt of amusement to his voice, “then i met you.”

quietly, you giggled, and pressed a kiss to his nose. “are you sayin’ i’ve changed you, captain?”

chuckling softly, john nodded, and said, “i think i am.”

you couldn’t quite suppress your smile when you said, “i would love to have your babies, john price.”

a wide grin broke out across his face; pretty blue eyes became crescent moons, and smile lines stretched out from the corners. at once, john stood, and promptly carried you, bridal style, toward the bedroom.

“oh my god, john!” you yelped, giggling as he gently tossed you on the bed. “i didn’t mean right now!”

planting a kiss to your belly, john john retorted, “no time like the present, sweetheart.”

#( 🌷 ) — writing.#( 🪻 ) — captain price.#john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #cod fic #call of duty fic #john price fluff

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wifey-badalee · 2 months

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Clearly you’d rather be with her part 2

This picture inspired the angst for this fic.

UGHHH ALEXIA😒🙄

When you had told alexia you needed a break and space she had thought you meant just for that time, but you had gone all week and ignored her and she didn’t know where you were. She called all her friends and your friends to ask about you including Olga, which was not a good idea. Olga went on an hour rant about how Alexia deserved better than you even using herself as an example, alexia didn’t pay attention to that but she did think Olga was right.

The word cup final match had come around and it was strange for alexia, she was always used to you messaging her Good luck and ow much you love her ,and you would see her again the game, but this morning she didn’t receive anything.

She was actually missing you a lot and reflecting on what you said but Olga’s words got to her and she was back to being mad at you, she actually started to feel a certain way towards Olga which she had never felt. She was scared about this feeling.

When alexia had gotten to the game she had seen her family and friends which included Olga obviously, but a little higher on the stands she had noticed a familiar figure, YOU.

You still came to the game despite everything, you knew how important it as and how bummed Alexia felt at the fact that she wasn’t able to play when she felt discomfort in her knee again. She smiled a little at you not wanting to get the wrong intention, but u smiled back and mouthed the words “ good luck” t her. She felt a little giddy inside at the fact that you showed up and smiled at her she truly did love you despite everything. But she then realized that’s the feeling she was having with Olga, she immediately felt nauseous at that thought , her eyes went to Olga’s and Olga smiled at her and made a heart towards Alexia and she smiled back doing the same, not realizing you were watching that entire interaction. You got so mad at that, really after you ignoring and ghosting her she still hasn’t changed, wow you were truly foolish, you thought this plan to come was dumb.

They won, Spain won the cup, you were so proud of al of them and Alexia despite how you felt. Afterwards all of the team were going around to family and celebrating, alexia was so caught up in her excitement she immediately ran to her family and then in the process hugged Olga not forgetting to leave quite a long kiss on her cheek and the hug wad quite long to. You didn’t know how to feel was it out of friendliness or what but you also felt shitty as you are still her girlfriend she didn’t even think about you but went t Olga , after a while they she reached her hand to Olga and they held hands so a while, you were now fuming you felt so fed up and you had made your decision, you and alexia aren’t meant to be her match was Olga clearly, she clearly loved her more than you, her actions spoke a 1000 words even though Alexia never said anything. You stood up and walked out into the lobby, alexia saw you stand and leave and was confused , why were you leaving already she hadn’t spoken to you yet, she cut her greeting short and ran up to find you quickly. She found you just before you exited and stopped you.

“ wait, amor, where are you going? Why are you leaving already,?” she asked.

You truly were dumbfounded at her questions, was she really that oblivious?

“ Are you seriously asking me that question? You completely ignored me once again like you always do for HER, I’m tired of being your second opinion, I’m your girlfriend why do I have to be the second opinion over that girl. What is wrong me with, why do you make me feel so invisible whenever she is around, am I not enough , what do I lack that she has, she doesn’t all that much greater than I do!”, you yelled and questioned .

You felt bad at the comment you made about her looks, but you were so angry and it was the truth she wasn’t that much more beautiful than you so what attracted alexia to her so much.

“What is wrong with, why would you say that about her, who have you become?”, says alexia

“ Oh wow that’s all you think about is her and her feelings, what about me I’m here to you know, om tired of you invalidating my feelings, how many times do I have to say this!”, you scream

Well the universe was truly not on you side as you see Olga approaching you’ll. This made everything a whole lot worse you felt like a tea pot steaming.

“ Why do you have to come and ruin Alexia’s day, you knew how important this was to her and yet you came to ruin what is wrong with you, why don’t you value you relationship, Alexia is already out of your league , just appreciate what you get, you are so ungrateful!”, Olga yelled at you.

If speechless was a person it would be you, more at the fact that alexia just stood there doing nothing. You just looked between the two of them and laughed, you wanted to walk away but no you weren’t gonna be the good guy anymore.

“ Firstly this is a conversation between my girlfriend and I something you seem to forget a lot so you have not right butting in and giving your 2 cents that wasn’t asked and needed for. So kindly mind your business and not mine or alexia’s at that matter. I’m done with you inserting yourself in this relationship its obnoxious and annoying!”, you told her.

Alexia was shocked she’d never seen you like this or heard you talk like this she felt proud but after looking at Olga’s “hurt” expression she immediately got defensive and told you off.

“ she’s not meddling but doing something you should defending me and reasoning and being considerate, it’d my big day and all you did was think about yourself, you are obnoxious and man speaking to her like that, I don’t know who you have become but I don’t like this , take Olga as a role model and learn from her instead of judging this is how you should be.”, alexia said

You wanted to break down and cry right there but you weren’t gonna give Olga that satisfaction seeing that smirk on her face. You looked at alexia and said

“ well then why don’t you date her, because I’m done I can do this anymore living in her shadow, clearly you’d rather be with her.”, you replied

#alexia putellas fic #alexia putellas angst #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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arminsumi · 8 months

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i need more gojo fluff🥺💖 he's just so precious

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒꒱

GOJO x f.reader

A/N: of course my beloved, here's a dose of gojo fluff just for u!!! 🥺

♪ NOW PLAYING: i could be your crush

Overview; collegeboy Gojo having the fattest crush on you and being lovably annoying

Content; fluff, crush headcanons

arminsumi's library

— He teases and distracts you all day every day, wearing a toothy smile. It hangs lopsidedly on his face.

— Pinching you is his thing. He loves getting a reaction out of you. "Hey, sweetcheeks." he greets, "Those cheeks lookin' awfully pinchable today."

"Ah, hell no! Suguru save me, Satoru is being annoying again!"

— Snatches up your belongings when you're not looking and makes you beg to give them back while he holds them above his head. Truthfully, this is just his silly excuse to show off his height to you.

— Other ways he shows of his height to you include towering over you and peering straight down into your eyes. He giggles like a jackass when you get flustered.

— His nicknames for you know no bounds. They're corny and cheesy most of the time, like the aforementioned sweetcheeks. There's also; honeybun/babydoll/sugarplum/princess/snugglebunny... the list doesn't end. Some people think you're dating when he calls you these in public.

— The instant your attention detracts from him, he steals it right back with grabby hands. Sometimes he throws a whiny "Why're you ignoring me!" your way.

— He rushes up to you after class with a million things to talk about, and talks so fast that he stumbles and trips all over his words.

— His enthusiasm and lively nature is contagious. He is always, always capable of putting a smile on your face.

— He sneezes on you on purpose.

— When you look especially attractive to him in certain lighting, like when the two of you walk home together after school, he clutches his chest. The fabric of his uniform crinkles and creases.

"What is it?" you ask.

He sighs dramatically. "You're so pretty." is all he can say. "Huh... that sounded so much better in my head."

— Never late for the classes that he shares with you. The rest he absolutely is though 🤭 he's got great bed hair, you can tell he really tries hard to wake up in time to make class

— He pays interest to the things you like. Sometimes you catch him practicing one of your hobbies. "Hey, what're you doing?" you ask and he FREAKS out, "Oh shi– hey! Hi! Not doing anything, why?" it's utterly hilarious; he knocks over stuff, flushing red in the face. You'll never meet someone who blushes as madly as Gojo Satoru.

— Addicted to your company much like he's addicted to sugar. You're another saccharine substance that he can't keep out of his mouth. Ahum... in other words, he is always talking about you to his friends.

— Poor Suguru, he often arrives to class in the morning with bloodshot eyes and hanging eyebags because his best friend kept him on the phone all night about Y/n this and Y/n that

— Gojo loses his mind when you call him Satoru for the first time. He melts each and every time you call him that afterwards.

— Call him hot once, or merely elude to it, and he will hold it to you forever. He winks and infuriatingly responds with "Yeah I know I am." or "Thanks for reminding me." or if he's feeling like flustering you, "Not as hot as you."

But trust that he swoons to his best friend about it. "She said I'm hot... d'you think she likes me?"

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yuri-is-online · 9 months

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Congrats on 300! You more than deserve it. If it’s alright, could you write Jealousy pt. 2 for Idia and Vil? Thanks <3

9. Jealousy pt. 2- someone from a rival school asks for your number

Thank you very much friend (╥﹏╥) Of course I can, I hope you like it!

notes: notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, mild RSA slander, reference to the events of chapter 5 (Vil). If you saw this post for the .3 seconds I posted it before it was done baking I am so sorry. Check out the rest of the event requests on my masterlist here.

Idia

"Thank you so much for showing me around." The RSA boy has been strangely polite to you and Idia ever since you intervened in their... "conversation." Not that he has been exactly paying attention to the very tall very blue boy who has been hovering around you looking for a good moment to cut in. "The NRC layout is just so different to what I'm used to." he laughs awkwardly and you involuntarily look at Idia.

"Hope it stays that way." He mutters and you try to avoid making any noise of agreement in hopes it doesn't provoke any more arguing between them. The RSA kid pretends not to notice, but the smile that spreads across his face suggests he thinks Idia's grumbling makes him look better somehow. You know his attempt at moving closer to you when you take out your phone certainty doesn't.

"Um, I'd like a chance to thank you properly, but I don't think we'll get a chance to see each other again during the fair..."

"Yeah I'm going to be pretty busy." You state, really hoping he gets the point.

[yuu] run

[idia] ???

[idia] and just leave u with sir scam a lot? nah

"Could I have your number then?" He asks, completely unaware that there are two introverts begging for the release of death in front of him.

"Nah sorry I don't have a phone." You can't find the meme you want to send Idia so you settle on a string of hearts while he tries to avoid laughing in the other guys extremely confused face.

[idia] cute

Vil

Vil has never once wished to be anyone other than exactly who he was. Why would he? The amount of work he had put in to commanding the attention he did would be pointless if he wanted to throw it all away and be somebody else. He should be secure in his position... he is secure in his position... that's why he finds this entire situation so... annoying.

"Yuu! I'm surprised you decided to participate in the VDC, you said you weren't going to." Neige had turned his attention to you as soon as he was done speaking to Rook, who looks just as flabbergasted as you do that the idol was speaking to you.

"I'm sorry but I don't think we've met?" You are clearly confused, and Vil wants to think entirely too concerned with his condition to spare the other boy a single thought. But still, like a worm working it's way to the core of an apple, Neige moves happily over to you trying to rot what little Vil can still claim as entirely his.

"I wasn't dressed as nicely last time sorry," he is clearly genuinely disappointed "we met when you came with the NRC Headmage to talk about the VDC, remember?" You blink, looking between Neige and Grim in increasing confusion. "I forgot to tell you my name, I've been thinking about it a lot... I really wanted to ask for your number so I could talk to you again."

"I don't really remember sorry, did you change your hair or something?" This is getting increasingly awkward for everyone but Neige who weathers it all with a smile as Vil tries to push down the implications of how pleased this development makes him feel.

Serves you right brat, Vil knows that Yuu will never forget meeting him.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #300 followers celebration

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wardenparker · 3 months

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Mentions of sick loved ones, mutual pining, personal guilt, relationship turmoil. Summary: After only knowing Marcus for a brief time, you can already feel emotions beginning to build. Will that spell trouble for the relationship you've worked so hard to build with Sam, or will something else altogether begun to sow seeds of doubt? Notes: Once again I'm afraid I have to ask forgiveness in the edit of this chapter. I went away for a few days this week and ever since my chronic illness has been utterly kicking my ass. Hopefully I didn't miss too many errors here.

Game night will probably go down in the year's history as one of the best and most fun times that Marcus has had in a long time. He had laughed until his stomach hurt, his abs aching the next week for at least three days. He's gotten an open invitation back, but he doesn't know if that was a good thing, if he's honest with himself. His attraction to you is something that he's got to get ahold of if he's going to socialize with you more. It seems like everything about you just makes the heavens sing and the sun shine. It's crazy and he hates that, considering you are very happy in a relationship.

Eastern Market is his usual haunt on the weekend, preferring it to a generic grocery store, and he’s lost in thought enough that he doesn’t notice a familiar face at the florist’s stand across the way as he’s walking through the stalls. "Some peaches will be good." Marcus decides, looking through some of the fruits that have been trucked in from warmer states. "Peach smoothies." He decides, walking towards the gorgeous plump peaches on display.

If you were any other person in the world, it would be you who bumped into him and not the Secret Service agent contractually obligated to come along on your errands. As it is, when Agent Bailey defends you from being bumped into by the familiar figure of Marcus Pike, you’re the one who apologizes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, excuse u—Marcus?”

“Oh, hi!” Marcus shakes his head, reaching out and taking your arm. “I am so sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He apologizes. “Was focused on getting some peaches and didn’t notice anything or anyone, obviously.” He flushes slightly, feeling that pull towards you and hating that he looks like a jerk, or maybe just thoughtless, in front of you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

"Not at all." The flowers in your hands and the canvas shopping bags on your arm aren't harmed either, and you find yourself smiling much more brightly than you were even a second ago. "No harm done to me or to Agent Bailey, not to worry. Is it errand day for you, too?"

“Trying to eat healthier.” Marcus admits, slightly upset by the prospect but he figures that just comes with getting older. “Figured the produce here would be better than in a grocery store. Are these for the inn?” He asks, looking at the flowers in your hands and immediately reaches for them. “Let me help.”

"I thought my apartment could use some brightening up." He's seen the organized chaos that you live in and you're not embarrassed by it by any means, but there is a small sting to buying your own flowers just a few days before Valentine's Day. Sam isn't a flowers guy and that's perfectly fine, but you're definitely a flowers girl. When Marcus scoops them up without a second thought and stays by your side, you can feel your cheeks heat up. "I, um—thank you.

“Of course.” He huffs, as if newly made acquaintances should always scoop up flowers from you. “You chose brilliantly. They are gorgeous. Have you already paid for them?”

"Yes, so don't even try." It's just a playful warning that comes with a waggle of your finger, but you really have a feeling that he would try to pay for them if you hadn't.

He grumbles at that slightly. “Well, okay.” It’s almost pathetic that he takes note of what kind of flowers you like and he smirks. “So which flower is your favorite in this?” He asks.

"These," you point out a geometrically fascinating flower with petals that seem to spiral endlessly. "They're called camellias. We called them Winter Roses when I was growing up, but I've always loved them." The intimacy of the question goes straight over your head, just excited to have something pretty to split amongst the small vases in your little space.

“Camellias.” Marcus repeats the flower, filing away the information even though he shouldn’t use it. “They are beautiful.”

"Not everyone has them, so I tend to get my flowers here just to make sure they're in the mix." Barely aware that you're standing in the middle of a bustling market with people trying to move all around you, you have to shake away the warmth settling in you that is definitely not due to any kind of attraction. Nope. Not even a little. Not at all. "You, um..." you gesture to the next stall, where he was originally headed when the collision happened. "Peaches?"

“Peaches? Oh right, peaches.” Marcus laughs at himself and shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, I’m – I forgot.” He snorts. “I was thinking about fresh peach smoothies.”

"Ooooo, that sounds incredible." All of a sudden it's the best idea you've heard all day, and you grin mischievously. "It's not exactly standard, but the next time you're craving a sweet after having Indian take out? Make a peach smoothie. It's got that same vibe as a mango lassi but it's slightly sweeter, and it's the most refreshing thing ever."

“I was actually thinking about having Indian tonight.” Marcus admits with a grin. “To reward myself for eating healthier.”

"Best reward in the world." You agree easily. "I told myself I was going to cook tonight and make sure there were leftovers for another day this week, but I am teetering dangerously close to just calling for take-out as well."

"Well..." Marcus almost doesn't offer, because of the fact that you have a boyfriend, but he is truly meaning this as a friendly offer. "If we went to have Indian together, it wouldn't be as bad as ordering it as take out, would it?" He ventures, raising his brows in offer.

You should say no, You should absolutely say no. Not because the invitation is improper in any way — after all, he's a friend. But because of the way your heart bumps and skips at the offer like you hope he means it as more. He doesn't, and that is a good thing. In fact, Marcus and Sam got along fairly well at game night. But you can't help the way your cheeks burn pleasantly. "DuPont Circle?" You ask, confirming that he means he was intending to order from the same place you were. When he nods, you do too. "That sounds really nice."

"This way..." He's immensely happy you are agreeing to come to eat with him. "We can order the samosas and pakoras and not feel any guilt what so ever." He tells you, grinning at you.

"No guilt, but definitely extra time at the gym." His smile is dangerous, but apparently your self-preservation instincts aren't nearly as good as you think they are, because the only alarm bell going off in your head is the one that says Don't Let It Become a Date! which you just brush off. Surely that won't even be a possibility. It can't, because you and Sam have a good thing going. "Although, you're not masochistic enough to have my little brother as your biweekly gym buddy, so your trips are probably far less traumatic than mine," you offer with a laugh.

"Nope." Marcus chuckles. "I just torture myself by running around the Mall during my lunchbreaks instead of spending it in museums or at the food trucks." He snorts. "I just get to smell them just off the Mall."

"Have you lived in DC for three years without doing any of the food trucks out on the Mall?" That might be the most appalling thing you've ever heard in your life, and you nearly drop the peach that you had just picked up to add to your basket.

"Oh no." He laughs at that. "First six months I was here, I fucking lived off food trucks." He admits. "I was undercover and my contact checked in with me through the food trucks."

"Oh, thank God." The both of you laugh as you wipe imaginary sweat of your forehead as though it had made you nervous. "If you had never had Julia's Empanadas, I might have had to drag you down to the Mall right now."

"Then I wouldn't have room for Indian." Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the thought of how many empanadas he would try to fit in his stomach if you went to Julia's Empanadas. "And I'm really craving Indian."

"I am too." Although, now you're going to be thinking about empanadas for ages. Maybe you'll have to try making some. "How has your week been?" Making small talk is easy with him, as you poke through the fruit bins to find peaches, apples, and pears to snack on this week.

"It's been alright." He shrugs slightly. "Depositions for a few upcoming cases. So I've had to revisit case files and work with the district attorney's office to make sure that there aren't any surprises."

"Paperwork and meetings," you nod in understanding. "I get that. Being my own boss is a hell of a lot more paperwork and meetings than I ever thought it would be."

"Ordering supplies, creating events to drum up interest. Balancing budgets." He nods. "I can imagine that it feels like it's hard to get a free moment for yourself."

The way you nod is tired but proud. Every ounce of hard work that you put into that inn is worthwhile, and you do it with straight shoulders and as much determination as you can possibly summon. "Today is my first day off in...two or three weeks? It's...a lot. But it's so worthwhile. And it means that Syd has her place, too. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"So how did you come to have the inn?" Marcus has been curious about that. "Was it always your dream? Or something you fell into?'

"I really, really liked throwing parties when I was younger." That's the easy way to start, as you both move to the line to pay for your bundles of fruit at this particular stall. "That grew up into loving to have guests over all the time. And then dreaming about running a hotel. So I took my sociology and history double major and got a job a hotel in Philly after college, putting myself through a hospitality degree while I started learning the ropes. It was a lot of years of working my way up, but eventually I got hired as the manager for the Inn at Jones Point under the old owners. They were struggling to keep up with new technology and losing clients because of it, and then..." Your eyes flick up to Marcus, almost apologizing for telling him the whole story. "We found out the reason Anita was having so much trouble learning the new technology was early-onset dementia alongside a sizeable brain tumor. I bought the inn from them when they made the decision that a comfortable end to her life was the most important thing they could do. Michael – Anita's husband – he comes around once a week for dinner and to check up on the place now that she's gone. He likes to keep an eye on it for her."

“That’s….” Marcus softens so much at the background story. “Beautiful. You are maintaining their legacy while adapting it to the new realities of time. Weathering time.”

"That farmhouse has been standing since the 1700s. We're just part of its legacy, not the other way around." The pair of you step up to be next in line, with Agent Bailey standing mere feet away managing to look imposing and nonchalant all at once. "The best part is that it could give Sydney her restaurant, and Juan a way to find himself in all the event planning. We didn't know what a team we'd be until we got going and now it's...it's just amazing."

“That’s incredible, and the fact that the place runs so smoothly is a testament to your hard work.” Marcus praises. He’s read some of the reviews and they are all positive, even the ones that had events beyond your control.

“That’s very kind of you.” Kind is an operative word for Marcus. As are sweet, funny, intelli— Nope, stop it, you’re getting dreamy again. Even the momentary distraction of having to pay for fruit is a welcome one if it gets your mind off that track.

Ouch. Kind is such a word that lands him in the friend zone. Which is where he has to be with you, but it still hurts. No longer edgy or cool like he was when he was in his old band. “What else do you need to get?” He asks, swinging his head around at the options available.

“I’m almost done actually.” It didn’t escape you that he flinched slightly when you were trying to be grateful and at least a little complimentary, and suddenly your stomach flips in fear that he might not like spending time with you are much as it seems. Or that you’d done something wrong. “I just wanted to get some fresh bread. But…I don’t know how much more you have to do.”

“Nothing.” He promises, shooting you a grin. “The least I can do is carrying things. Since you are saving me from a night of trying to cook.”

“Never learned to cook or just never got good at it?” There is a difference, after all, and it isn’t about want. Some people find cooking to be an incredible challenge. He gives you a look when you take your parcel of fruit from the vendor and accepts it on your behalf with thanks. Like a damn gentleman, you think with a pant in your chest.

“Never really had the time or the inclination.” He admits. “It’s hard to be enthusiastic about cooking for one, you know what I mean?”

“But that’s when you get to experiment!” Maybe it’s years of being friends with Sydney, whose world revolves around her tastebuds, but cooking has always been an outlet for you. It’s one of the only things you dislike about your apartment —the teeny tiny kitchen. “You can test out new things and weird combinations, and if it’s not great then the only person who knows is you. But if it’s awesome?” You grin up at him like you’re unveiling some kind of ultimate secret. “You become a rockstar at the next office potluck.”

Marcus chuckles. “I’m a rockstar anyway.” He jokes. “I’m the one who brings in the pizza and Chinese for the late nights in the office.”

“Okay, actually, that does count for a lot.” Walking in the direction of the bakery where you get all of your sweet treats and fresh bread, you readjust your shopping bag on your arm and try to glance around the place to survey your surroundings the way Agent Bailey has been teaching you. A comprehensive knowledge of your surroundings, she calls it. “I can’t really cook for my staff much when they have Sydney’s kitchen nearby, but I leave baked goods in the break room from time to time as a thank you. They work so hard.”

“There’s nothing better than snagging a muffin or a cookie when you’re rushing around.” Marcus agrees wisely.

“Or a slice of pizza.” It sounds like he works hard to keep his team in good spirits the same way you do, and you have to commend that in someone who works in such a dour field. Even art crimes — being less violent in nature, according to what you looked up the other night out of sheer curiosity — can’t possible be all sunshine and roses.

“Exactly.” He nods. “Sometimes we have all night surveillance or going through the evidence when something is time sensitive. My teams work better when they are well fed, and know how much they are appreciated.” He shrugs slightly, “everyone could benefit from know that every now and again.”

"Sometimes the weddings we run are just...they're insane. Or last year we had an entire family reunion take over the grounds for four very long days. I can't imagine it's half as stressful as what you deal with but the days can be really long and busy in their own right." For what it's worth, at least, you do love your job. And it's obvious that Marcus feels just as passionately about what he does.

“Oof.” He winces. “I bet the staff wanted to break out a bottle of bubbly when they were checked out.” Marcus jokes, chuckling slightly. “Yeah a lot of people don’t understand that when you love your job, the long hours are worth it.”

"Yeah." A tinge of regret breaks your smile, barely twitching in the corner of your mouth, and you barely nod. He can't possibly know what kind of a nerve he's hit — hell, you barely know yourself and you're the one feeling it. It just...it stings.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asks, immediately concerned when your smile seems almost sad.

"No." You reassure him much too quickly, and flinch in your own right when he looks skeptical. "It's just...not everyone thinks what I do is as worthwhile as, say, something like what you do. A—and that makes sense. Running an inn and upholding the law are—they're not the same. I'm not saying they are. It's just...that important to me. That's all."

“Whoever believes that is wrong.” Marcus insists wholeheartedly. “Running an inn is absolutely crucial. Maybe not to everyone, but to the people who need a little escape, a retreat to relax and revive themselves, your inn is a haven to them.” He is speaking passionately because he believes it. “When I’m out of town on a case, I hope that I can book a little inn. Something more personable than a Holiday Inn, so when I come back, it’s like a little slice of home.”

“I appreciate that. Really. It’s—I guess it’s a sore spot at the moment and I didn’t realize it. That’s all.” And you are absolutely not going to allow yourself to indulge in the image of Marcus coming back to the inn for you. Your place is not his ‘ little slice of home’. Even if you’re wondering what the would feel like if it was real.

“Well, you can always gripe and complain if you need to.” He promises.

“No, that’s—that’s not it.” It’s a little embarrassing, if you’re honest, but that’s only because you’re fighting being attracted to the man beside you. Otherwise you would just be chatting to a friend. “I just…don’t get to spend as much time with Sam as he would like. That’s all. Because we both have busy jobs.”

Marcus winces. “With the job he has, it would be hard unless you didn’t work.” He murmurs quietly. “But what counts is that you make the time you do have together special.”

“That’s what I said. Making the most of our time it’s what is most important.” The topic had come up again in conversation when you and Sam had talked about next steps — through the odd avenue of discussing your commute. His house to the inn isn’t a prohibitive drive, but it will warrant either having a lot of work done on your car or getting an upgrade. Right now you have no commute whatsoever, so you’re barely using your car outside of town.

“My favorite thing to do with my ex-wife was to curl up and watch a movie.” He admits. “Or work on a crossword together.”

“Those…” You laugh quietly, almost self-consciously, and shrug with the air of someone who is just about to give up. “Are the things I do with my good friend Agent Bailey, here. Though she kicks my ass at the Times Sunday crossword every single week.”

He rolls his eyes at himself. “I know it’s an old person’s activity, but I was normally exhausted from the academy.”

“Don’t you dare besmirch the Times Crossword.” A waggles finger and disapproving tsk seems to amuse him and it makes you smile, too. “That’s a mandatory topic of conversation at my mother’s dinner table.”

“Your mother enjoys the Times Crossword?” He asks, grinning at you. “She would get along with my parents. They have two subscriptions just so they can each do their own.”

“I’m keeping that in mind for Dad’s birthday this year.” It’s a brilliant idea. They would love to make a competition of it. It would be the highlight of their week.

“My parents got it as a wedding present and they enjoyed it so much, they kept it.” He tells you, smiling fondly at the memory of the two of them arguing playfully over their crosswords.

“That’s incredibly sweet.” There is a crowd at the bakery, as to be expected, so you and Marcus step into line to wait your turn. “I love the idea of being able to share small things with your partner. They’re every bit as important as the grand gestures, if not more.”

“Sometimes the smaller gestures are the most meaningful.” He admits with a grin. “I love cherry Danishes, and so did my ex. We would find these combo boxes of assorted and she would get the cherry one.”

“Giving up your favorite Danish flavor is not small.” An attempt at lightening the already light and sweet conversation is maybe…just trying to keep your own mind off of things. But that somehow doesn’t keep you from admitting the truth before you can stop yourself. “I have yet to meet the man I would give up my lemon poppyseed muffin for.”

“That’s only because you’ve never traded for a raspberry crumble muffin.” Marcus vows, smirking at the way you look stingy, even though he knows for a fact you aren’t.

“You’re on, Pike.” The smirk on his lips spreads to yours as effortlessly as breathing. “But lemon poppyseed is pretty impossible to unseat.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever had a raspberry crumble then.” He huffs, looking offended at the idea. “But I don’t think this place has them. I get them from a little bakery near the Bureau. I’ll have to bring you one.”

“I’ll get you a lemon poppyseed from the coffeeshop I go to in Old Town.” Even as its coming out of your mouth you know it sounds like flirting, but the fact is that you just feel so naturally comfortable with him. There is nothing flirtatious about muffins, you tell yourself. Nothing at all. “We can compare notes.”

“That sounds like a plan to me.” Marcus is extremely happy that you would like to make plans with him, any plans. Even if it’s just a friendly wager. “I’ll get the raspberry crumble. I say we each get two. And if you like the other one so much, you have to give up both.”

“Deal.” You put your hand out to him, willing to make a friendly bet on almost anything. That’s gotten you and your brother in trouble before, but this is harmless.

Marcus grins as he takes your hand, imagining that lightning bolts are shooting up his hand. Winking, he laughs, “just don’t be disappointed when you break that little rule of yours for me.” He boasts.

“We’ll see.” The tone of the thing really tries for teasing, but you end up so taken aback by the electricity in shaking his hand that you fluster — which is only compounded when you end up next in line and completely forget the word for ‘sourdough’ in the process.

“I, uh, I want-“ you seem completely out of it, and the bored looking boy behind the counter seems to be getting annoyed with you. “Can we have just a second?” Marcus asks, pulling you back and allowing another couple to go ahead of the two of you. “I’ve completely forgotten what I wanted.” He takes the blame, not wanting to embarrass you.

“Bread?” You manage to supply, feeling like a world class idiot for clamming up on something so routine. If being around him is going to be this big of a problem, you need to get yourself in order.

“Yeah, bread.” He nods, wrinkling his nose slightly. “What’s that type that I like?”

At this point he could mean him or he could mean you, or he could even just be speaking in theoreticals, but you have you head in straight enough again to blow out a breath and remember yourself. “Sourdough. I forgot the damn word for sourdough.”

“Thats it.” He snaps his fingers and looks back at the boy. “Could we get some sourdough bread?”

“Sure.” The kid looks at the both of you like you’ve gone insane but turns around to bag a loaf of freshly baked bread without a second thought for his strange customers.

Marcus pays for the bread, even with you huffing beside him and guides you towards the clearing. “That wasn’t that bad.”

“Only because you saved me from sputtering like an idiot.” It’s beside the point that he is also the reason you were sputtering in the first place. That doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that you couldn’t keep it together that bothers you. “Thanks for that.”

“Not at all.” He waves off your thanks. “Everyone has those moments.” He promises, smiling at you.

There is such a moment of relief when you exhale again that you have to make light of it or else you’re in danger of feeling far more grateful than is probably necessary, and that makes your chest ache in a dull and insistent kind of way. “That’s either very sweet of you or a complete placation, but either way I appreciate it.”

“No placation, I promise.” He crosses his finger over his heart and smiles at you. “Anywhere else?”

“That was the last thing for me.” Even though you have plans to have dinner with him that night you still can’t help feeling a little disappointed that the impromptu shopping trip has come to an end. “Unless you needed something else?”

“Well…” Marcus looks around, not wanting to let you leave just yet. “Maybe I could find a plant to kill?” He asks. “Something to brighten up my place?”

"Bit of a black thumb?" The excuse to not say goodbye yet is welcome, and you end up smiling more broadly than you mean to. "Let's see what we can do about that."

“More that I forget to set up someone to water my plants when I go out of town and they die miserable, thirsty deaths while I’m away.” He flashes you a guilty grin. “I’m a murderer.”

“Very rude of you to do to your plants.” The wholesome, straight-faced nod that you cry for cracks on a giggle, though, and you nod in the direction of an entirely different florist stand than the one you were at before. “What you need is a succulent.”

“That sounds a little dirty.” Marcus admits, not even realizes how flirtatious that sounds.

It does. And you didn’t mean for it to. You were just talking about the type of plant he could get. But then there’s that grin on his face and it’s so fucking puckish and * handsome* that you practically groan about how unfair the whole damn thing is. “Whoops?” You offer, obviously not apologetic in the least.

He snorts and winks at you again. “I don’t mind. Sometimes being a little dirty is a good thing.” It’s borderline inappropriate, so Marcus doesn’t say anything else.

“Sometimes it’s the fun of an otherwise boring day.” But since you’re genuinely afraid you might say too much if you go ahead with this line of thought, and since Agent Bailey is steadily avoiding your eyes like an older sister trying not to bear witness to your trouble making, you clear your throat and change the subject. “I think I snake plant would work for you. They’re really easy to care for and great for beginners or busy people.”

Marcus takes your lead and nods seriously. “I’ll take some advice. Any advice.” He shrugs slightly. “I wish I had the time for pets, but I don’t and it’s wrong to do that to them.”

“If I could have a dog, I would have a little corgi or a Yorkie in a heartbeat.” It comes with an almost wistful sigh, but you feel the same way he does. It would be cruel to the animal you’re supposed to be taking care of. “But since I have no concept of work-life balance? I have plants.”

“I’ll start with plants.” Marcus huffs. “If I can keep one alive? Maybe I’ll move on to cats? They are low maintenance.”

“Cats are fantastic. Sydney and Anna Leigh always had a couple when we were growing up and they can’t be the sweetest animals in the world.” There is a florist that specializes in succulents and potted plants further into the market and you head that way, chatting as you go. “I just always said I would want my kids to grow up with a puppy.”

“Puppy, a swing set in the yard and dinner together.” Marcus adds wistfully, having his own version of that same dream. “Every kid needs a puppy pal.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” And the knot in your stomach tells you that that isn’t a coincidence — that the future you’ve dreamt about probably lines up with the one he wants in so many different ways.

“We had my dog for nearly twenty years.” Marcus tells you. “He was my best friend and the best soul I’ve ever met.”

“I got Alex instead of a dog,” you giggle, silliness tinging the edge of his sweet nostalgia. “My little brother.”

“Isn’t a younger brother the same thing?” He asks with a grin.

“Very much so. And Alex is as much Golden Retriever as he is human.” If he were here, he’d give you so much grief for that comparison, but you stand by it. “What kind of dog did you have?”

Marcus chuckles. “A golden retriever.” He tells you without skipping a beat. “I’ve got a picture of him, wanna see?”

“Absolutely!” They say you’re either a kid person or a dog person, but you’re definitely both. Anything cute and squishy is right up your alley.

Digging out his wallet, it might be a little old fashioned to carry a physical photo of the favorite family pet, but he likes looking at it sometimes. He’s holding his dog, Hansel, in the picture. The white around the dog’s snout indicative of the older age of the golden retriever. “Here he is. Hansel.”

“What an angel!” If you could jump right through the photo and squeeze his beautiful face you would — the only problem is that you don’t know if you mean young Marcus or the dog.

“Wasn’t he?” Marcus hums happily. “He slept in my room growing up. Hated me leaving for college, although I hated being apart from him too.”

"How could you possibly leave that face? Look at him!" Yeah, it's definitely the dog that you're talking about. At least right now.

“Yeah.” He smiles down at the photo, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the canine face with happy memories flooding through him. “He was the best.”

"So would you want another Golden Retriever?" Looking between him and the photo, you think you might be able to guess the answer yourself. "Or will no other Golden ever live up to him?"

“Probably not.” Marcus shrugs. “He was from a litter of puppies at the shelter. It was just a coincidence that he was a pure Golden.” He frowns slightly. “I would want to adopt. It’s the best way to give a loving home to an animal.”

"Adopting is the only way." On that, you can firmly agree. But you point to the florist stand up ahead and touch his arm gently in an unconscious moment of casual comfort. "First, let's get you a plant to adopt."

“Yes, I would prefer adopted over nursery grown.” Marcus jokes, trying to ignore how easy it is to be with you. You can just be a friend. It’s possible and it’s possible he’s lying to himself.

"Wild, orphaned plants wandering the lonely roads with all their belongings tied up in a little bandana on a stick," you tease, conjuring the image of a cartoon orphan as best you can. To the girl behind the counter, you turn your full attention and the best conspiratorial smile you can conjure. "We're looking for something he'll have trouble killing," you confide with a chuckle. "Something like a snake plant, maybe? Or if you have a better recommendation we're all ears."

“It’s best to start them out with a plant before having pets or kids, isn’t it?” She asks with a grin, eyeing Marcus in amusement. “But he seems like the trustworthy type to me.”

"A fine, upstanding citizen if ever I saw one." The smirk you offer her is playful, and you glance up at Marcus beside you. "Plus, I'll be keeping an eye on the situation. For the good of the adoptee, of course."

“Of course.” She nods seriously, even though there is a definitely shaking to her voice, like she’s holding back laughter. “Let me show you the best options for a recovering black thumb.”

It's several minutes of back and forth with the florist who parries your playful banter well, and you end up leaving her stand with not just a lovely potted snake plant for Marcus, but an identical one for your apartment as well. "I had to!" You coo, when Marcus laughs at the little plant that you're cradling like a newborn. "It's so precious! And they're twins! I couldn't just leave it abandoned."

“Well, we have to name them.” Marcus decides. “Twin names.” He grins at you, “what do you think?”

"Luke and Leia," you joke right away, because that will always be the first pair of twins you think of in any situation. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Oh, do the creepy girls from The Shining have names?"

Considering The Shining was his first foray into horror when he was younger, it was also one of his favorites. "No, they were just called Grady Daughters one and two." He tells you. "But..." He whips out his phone. "They are Lisa and Louise Burns, in real life."

“So are the plants Grady and Burns, or Lisa and Louise?” Either way they’re exceedingly silly choices, and you’re going for it.

“Either one works for me.” Marcus laughs. “It depends on if the plants are male or female.” He jokes.

“I think we probably get to pick,” you joke right back, making a show of rolling your eyes at him even though you’re laughing.

“Hmmmmm.” He pretends to take a closer look at his plant. “I’m going to surprise you.” He decides. “My plant is female.”

“Oh, that’s no surprise to me.” The smirk you shoot back at him is probably the lightest and most carefree you r felt in ages, and just for the moment you’re not going to second guess it. You’re just going to revel in the moment. “All my plants are female.”

He snickers with you and then tilts his head. “Lisa or Louise for you?” He asks, before he answers. “I bet you want the name Louise. You’ll pretend it’s for Thelma and Louise.”

“I—how—” Staring at him in utter confusion does not help matters one bit, but you still don’t have any clue as to how he could possibly have guessed that about you after only having met you two whole times. “So?” You ask after a second, realizing you’re laughing with the absurdity.

You have the most beautiful laughs Marcus has ever heard, and he loves that he caused it. There’s a flash of guilt that comes with the thought and he decides to reel it back into the scope of reality. You are becoming a friend, nothing more. “Who wouldn’t?” He asks, still chuckling. “They were the greatest female duo in modern cinema. In my opinion.”

“They line up against Idgie and Ruth from Fried Green Tomatoes.” You’ll stand by that pairing until the day you die, but the way warmth is spreading through your chest and your fingers ache dully from wanting to reach out for him is a special, damning sort of agony. “And I will die on that hill.”

“I had completely forgotten about Idgie and Ruth.” He admits, hanging his head in shame. “Forgive me.”

“Just this once.” There is still a teasing grin on your face when your phone goes off in your pocket. Sam’s name splashed across your caller ID and guilt crawls through your veins immediately. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, glancing up at Marcus. “Just give me one second.”

Marcus catches a glimpse of the name and it’s like he’s doused with cold water. “Of course.” He murmurs politely, turning towards a little book stand to give you some privacy, beating himself up for flirting with another man’s significant other.

“Hey honey.” The second you pick up the phone with a plant in your other arm and your groceries weighing on your shoulder, that is the second you feel most self-conscious.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice comes over the line and he has a straightforward attitude, jumping into the reason for his call. “I’ve had a dinner invite tonight, some potential donors.” He tells you. “Can you make it?”

“I—” It’s not like it’s an unusual request. If he has a work event tonight then the best possible person he can have at his side is you. The idea of having dinner with Marcus had been so uplifting, and now cancelling on him makes you feel awful. But this is your boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it. Where and when? Is there a dress code?”

Sam rattles off the address and dress code. “Thanks honey, I knew I could count on you.” He tells you before he murmurs to someone else. “Hey, I’ve got to go, I love you.” The line clicks off immediately.

“I love you too.” It’s said to the silence, and you look down at your phone for a moment before pocketing it again. Marcus has stepped away to give you privacy, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other before walking back over to him. “I’m really sorry,” you murmur, actually looking as apologetic as you feel. “Can we postpone dinner tonight?”

“Oh….yeah, of course.” He hates the way the feels rejected, but you have priorities, ones that aren’t him. “That’s no problem at all.” He nods quickly and looks around. “Well, we should probably get your things to your car, right?”

“I—I’m really sorry.” Repeating it just makes you feel worse. But both of you feel worse, unbeknownst to you, and you walk in the direction of your car with Agent Bailey her usual two steps behind. “Something came up.”

“Not a problem at all.” Marcus promises you, plastering on a smile as you turn to him at your car. “I understand. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of things come up.”

"It was really nice to run into you today." There is no word of a lie or even exaggeration in that, and you take your flowers from Marcus's arms carefully, loading it into the backseat with your other bags and Louise the snake plant.

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you. Marcus holds up his plant. “Thanks for the help.” He hums. “Hopefully I won’t kill Thelma.”

"If you do, try to make it as spectacular as possible." Offering him a half smile, you realize that you just wish you could give him a big hug, but that would be totally out of line. So instead all you can think to do is shift your weight awkwardly again before opening your car door. "I'll see you around, Marcus."

“See ya.” He nods and turns around to walk to his car. He doesn’t turn around, knowing that it would look weird if he did.

Once you’re in the car with Agent Bailey and focused on getting back home to put everything away and make a cup of coffee before you have to start getting ready for the night, you sigh softly and sit back in your seat. You can feel the curiosity of the Secret Service agent beside you and you wonder if you look as guilty as you. “That was a nice surprise.”

“Yes.” Agent Bailey hums. “Special Agent Pike was quite a surprise.”

“He’s nice,” you defend, very aware that you’re defending yourself and not him.

“He’s very nice.” She agrees. “And exactly who he says he is.” Of course a background check had been done on the agent, which she was glad of now that he had popped back up on radar. Not quite sure what to make of the interaction at the market, it’s also not her place to judge it.

"Well, that's a comfort." The drive back to Alexandria won't take long, but you twist your hands around the steering wheel a few times before pulling out into traffic. "Unfortunately, tonight will be the opposite," you tell her with a dramatic sigh that cushions the blow of having to attend an impromptu event. "Sam asked me to come to a dinner party tonight. Last minute invitation, I guess somebody had a seat they needed filled and asked him."

“I see.” Now she has to find out where you are going to be, who is on the guest least and it means overtime tonight. She doesn’t sigh, but she wants to, much preferring to go to small Indian restaurant over some political function. “I’m sure it will be a lovely evening.”

"I know you have to vet everything." The process seems exhausting, but you would never question the agent's ability to get her job done. "It's a private party at Arthur Connesby's house. The aerospace tech guy? Apparently it's a party for his wife, but everybody invited are Sam's constituents. I have a feeling they're going to spend the night trying to pitch their own interests to him, but if nothing else they might donate to his next campaign if they feel like they got to be friendly with him." It sounds like it will be a fairly boring night of overly rich old men feeling self-important, but Sam asked you to be there and that's why you're going.

“Noted.” The agent is immediately firing off a text to her support team, letting them know about the change of plans tonight.

"I know it's not what we had in mind." The night has gone from staying home and watching a movie and maybe playing cards, to dinner out, to an entire party. It's a lot of jumps in not much time. "And I appreciate you being flexible. Truly."

“It’s my job to protect you no matter what.” She reminds you softly. She enjoys you, has gotten to know you and thinks you are lovely, but you are Hummingbird to her. The First Daughter of the President of the United States and her assignment. She would guard you regardless of what you were doing because it’s her job.

"Right." You nod slightly, eyes cast back out on the road, and try not to slump even a little as you drive. It's not necessary to be everyone's best friend. You know that on a practical level. Right now your energy is better served focusing on the night ahead. "Well, I can still be grateful. So thank you. For...being professional. An very good at your job."

She knows that you are disappointed, but one of the cardinal rules of the secret service is to not be emotionally attached to your assignment. It would be too difficult to make life or death decisions. “Protecting you has been my pleasure.” She promises.

"I appreciate that." For better or for worse, the Secret Service will be a part of your life for the rest of your life. So if you can't be friends, at least you can appreciate each other. For now, though, you ought to focus. A party with your boyfriend's constituents is no place to have your mind wander.

The dinner party is exactly what you imagined it would be. Self important people, boasting about how important they are as they fawn over ‘more’ important people. Or the people who could give them access to the power they wished to have. Sam was in his element, smiling and shaking hands. Listening to ideas with a feigned interest that comes naturally to politicians.

He's charismatic enough to keep their attention but has enough of his own heart left that he does seem to care about issues being brought to him. Unfortunately for these folks, they're talking about a whole lot of things that just one man can't change on their behalf. So all he can really do is listen and express interest in whatever plight it is they have.

You have found yourself in the rather unfortunate position of being inundated by the significant others of these men, and when the party turns to mingling after dinner they somehow manage to whisk you away to the garden where you aren't sure if they're planning on trying to get you to dance with various people, or maybe join their country clubs, You really can't tell which.

“You must tell me, how is living in the White House?” One asks you, under the impression that you are still living with your mother.

“I understand it’s very comfortable.” It’s almost a relief that these women seem not to know a thing about you beside who your mother is. Your greatest fear about the whole thing was being hounded through every day of your life — so far that hasn’t been the case. But it’s been barely more than a month. There’s time. “However, I chose not to reside there.”

“Oh, what a shame.” She hums, wondering why you wouldn’t want to call the most famous house in America home. “I hear that it’s haunted.”

“That is what they say.” And according to your little sister, it’s absolutely true. But an upscale party of relatively stuffy guests like this doesn’t seem like the place to spout tales of your sister taking her homework to the Lincoln bedroom. “And it’s certainly very beautiful.”

“I would love to take a tour sometime.” She tells you, hoping that you might offer to set it up for her. An intimate tour would be amazing.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” You aren’t the sort of person who would exchange favors, so the thought that this could mean a donation for Sam’s campaign in the near future. Instead, you just know it would be something nice. “I can have something put together for you if you like?”

“That would be lovely!” She exclaimed, sending you a warm smile. “You know, you and the congressman make a beautiful couple. Possibly even presidential one day.” It’s a fishing expedition, feeling you out for your thoughts on a possible run.

"Possibly." And two weeks ago, you might have beamed at that implication. At the idea of Sam moving through his career with such gusto and motivation that he makes it all the way to the White House. But seeing what your father contends with as First Gentleman, the idea of being First Lady sounds overwhelming to you. It's even less likely that you would end up in politics yourself. "Sam takes his work very seriously, and he has high hopes for the future of our country."

“And what about you?” She asks. “You made waves, positive ones in my opinion, during your mother’s campaign about your stance on soulmates.”

"I don't have any political ambitions for myself." Of that, you can absolutely assure her. "While I'm more than happy to support the people around me, I'm very happy with my own career."

“At least until Congressman Chase makes an honest woman out of you.” She hums. “Then it’s so hard to balance your own career while supporting the ambitions of your husband.” There’s a rueful chuckle on her part. “Believe me, I know.”

"I won't be giving up my career." This is always a topic of conversation amongst significant others, you've found, and a topic that your father has contended with on multiple occasions. As your mother's career grew, he became a stay-at-home-dad and raised three kids. Because it was something he wanted to do, not because it was forced on him. And that has always been the key to you. "I own a business. So it's essentially my first child already."

“Oh?” Her brows wing up in surprise. “My apologies. I must have misunderstood.” Her eyes slide past you. “Excuse me, I must go catch Mrs. Jackson before she leaves.” She cuts off the conversation and hustles away.

It's a bit on and definitely abrupt, but the conversation wasn't very enjoyable to begin with so you smile politely and just let it roll off your back. Whatever she 'misunderstood' doesn't really concern you. Some gossip article must have speculated on the next steps of your relationship with Sam and you try not to let that kind of nonsense get to you.

“Having fun?” Sam comes up to you, his hand slipping around your waist and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You look amazing, especially since it was so last minute.”

"You always like this dress." The first time you wore it was the nominating party after the Democratic National Convention, and then again to a fundraiser in Chicago. That was the night you met Sam, and he had remarked even then that the dress was particularly beautiful. It seemed like the logical choice for tonight based on that alone. "It's a nice party." The food was predictable but tasty, and the drinks are flowing, just like the way you expected the night to go. "Do we think there will be birthday cake?" You ask conspiratorially, looking up at him beside you with a smirk. "Is that something people still do for fancy fiftieth birthdays?"

“Cake is universal.” Sam snorts and nods. “I have it on good authority the cake is a chocolate raspberry mascarpone cream cake.” He tells you, knowing it will be an idea you carry back to Sydney.

"I know exactly what Saturday's dessert special is going to be." Somehow your best friend will turn a classic cake into something elegant and thoughtful, and you know the entire restaurant will go nuts for it. They always do, when Sydney gets to show off. "Are you having a good night? I know you had high hopes for networking tonight."

“It’s going well.” He hums happily and beams at you. “How about you? Working the other side for me?” He teases playfully, aware you don’t usually like campaigning.

"Nothing that will get me in trouble with my Mom's staff." Not that he would ever ask you to do anything like that. Sam doesn't go in for most of the entitled bullshit that other politicians do. "One request for a White House tour that I'll put through the appropriate channels. Nothing too odd."

“Interesting.” Sam looks thoughtful. “Who asked for that?”

"Shelly D'Amario." The wife of District Attorney-turned-Superior Court Judge Raymond D'Amario was one of the few people you had recognized from press coverage of events supporting your mother's campaign. Her husband's politics were lined up with most moderate Democrats, and he tended to hand down verdicts with thoughtful conclusions at the end of each case. He's one of those people you wouldn't have minded at all sitting at this dinner party with, but unfortunately the Judge was not able to attend.

“Oh.” Sam nods. “I was at another dinner with her and the judge just the other night.” He tells you. “Picking his brain about Constitutional law.”

“She was very nice.” Though instinct takes over, and you chew on your bottom lip for a second before going on. “Did you guys talk…about me at all? About us, I mean? At your dinner?”

“Well, naturally you came up.” Sam admits with a slight frown, wondering if Shelly had somehow insulted you. “Not everyone is dating the daughter of the current sitting President. But I didn’t share any private details about you.” He promises. “Or your family.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that.” If he was the sort of person who went around sharing personal details with anyone and everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to trust him. Especially not under the condition you met in. Campaigns are cutthroat. “She just…said something that kind of confused me, that’s all.”

“What confused you?” He asks, trying to recall the exact details of the dinner with the judge and his wife.

Without wanting to imply that he might have said anything, you still glance around you to make sure that Agent Bailey is the only one close enough by to overhear you. “She seemed to be under the impression that I would be quitting my job if we ever have a family. And when I said that wasn’t the case, she said she must have ‘misunderstood’ something and walked away immediately.”

Understand dawns in his eyes and Sam shifts slightly. “Well, that’s not something we’ve talked about just yet.” He reminds you. “That’s a conversation we need to have.”

"Right." You couldn't agree more. "Which is why I was confused that she seemed to have heard an opinion about it somewhere before. But it was probably just some gossip article."

He hesitates and then decides to come clean, you don’t like liars. “I might have voice my hopes for our future.” He admits. “It’s not so unexpected, is it?” He asks. “I’ll be spending a lot of time at different events and I will want you by my side.”

"Sam..." There's disappointment in your voice that you don't bother to hide. Of course he's absolutely entitled to talk about hopes, as he puts it, but you can't believe that he would ever think you would give up the inn. "I own the place, honey. It's not like taking a smaller role in an office or shifting to part time somewhere."

“Yes, you own it.” Sam stresses. “But you can have someone else manage it.”

"But I don't want to have someone else manage it." It's really like you can't believe your ears. Sam has never voiced anything like this before within the dynamic of your relationship and he knows very well how proud you are of your work at the inn and how much it means to you.

By the set of your jaw and the frown on your face, Sam knows that he can’t argue the point right now. He shakes his head, smiling at you and taking your hand. “You’re right. I—I wasn’t thinking about how much you love your inn.” He admits softly. “Let’s just forget about it, hm?”

"O—okay." There he is again. Your understanding, supportive Sam smiling at you and taking the stress out of the situation. The man you started dating almost a year ago. Dependable. "Okay."

“Good.” He pats your hand gently and leans in to kiss you softly. “But I do still want to talk about moving in together.”

"After our date on Tuesday?" The Valentine's night you had settled on together is dinner at a small, family-owned restaurant in his hometown followed by a fundraiser screening of short films made by local high schoolers looking to update their school's resources with the proceeds. Community-oriented is the theme of the night.

“That sounds appropriate.” He agrees with a nod. “For now, let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening.” He looks towards your secret service agent. “Will you be allowed to come to my place tonight?”

"I think that can be arranged." The invitation means you'll be sleeping over at his place twice this week, which is definitely more than you've been able to do lately and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you just need to refocus yourself. And stop thinking about Marcus, for fuck's sake. You slip your arm around Sam's waist and lean into his side. "I just have to let Bailey know. Her relief agent will have to be told to go to your place instead of mine."

"Of course." Even though it irritates him, he nods. Understanding that you cannot help it right now. After your mother's term, perhaps you will decline protection.

"I know it isn't perfect." He's bristled about lack of privacy before, and though you can't say that you really blame him? There's nothing you can do about it. Secret Service protect for the President's immediate family is mandatory. And hell, you have a Secret Service agent in your apartment every night. At least when you stay with Sam, your agent usually stays in the living room or their car like a stakeout. It's typically left up to them. But still, you do understand the objection. "I'm sorry. It is what it is."

"I know." He sighs softly, hating that the evening has been sidetracked from what he imagined. "I understand. I just don't like them be so close when we are alone." He admits.

"I know." The last five minutes have become increasingly uncomfortable, but you still stick close to Sam and continue smiling, aware that eyes at the party might be on you just like they are anytime you go anywhere outside of your little haven at the inn. "But better that, than someone breaking into your house."

He doesn't point out that he has a security system and his townhouse is in a gate community. There's no point and it would just further cause an discussion that is best left for the relative privacy of his bedroom - with a secret service agent parked outside in his living room. He sighs. "Shall we get more wine?" He asks, trying to change the subject.

"Sure." There are people starting to dance to the music being piped through outdoor speakers, but you're not really in a dancing mood. There's too much swirling around in your mind to be light on your feet. "Wine sounds like a good plan."

Sam leads you over to the bar, ever the gentleman and stands beside you to look at the drink selections. "They have a nice pinot grigio." He murmurs softly.

"Is that what you want too?" The bar is open, of course, but the catering company has allowed the bartender to put out a small and discreet tip jar for the reasonably large party tonight, and you have a few more bills in your purse that you're happy to add to the jar.

"I think I'm going to stick with the pinot noir." He tells you, holding up his almost empty glass.

You order both glasses without hesitation and tip the very pleasant bartender, handing Sam his glass after it's put on the bar top. Just something nice to get the night back on track. At least as far as the two of you go.

"So I think that we should drink our wine and then dance." Sam suggests. It would be a good visual and romantic as a bonus. He's not calculating, but he does understand that optics are important in politics. It's a good opportunity to romance you and look good for the discreet photographers that are roaming around.

"And at some point, eat cake." Trying to lighten the mood a little is really your go-to for diffusing tension in any situation, and the air around the two of you feels a little thick, so you offer him a big smile instead of getting serious again.

"Eating cake is always a good way to spend a night." Sam agrees, smiling back at you.

"Morning." You haul yourself into the restaurant's kitchen the next morning when you arrive bright and early for your eight-a.m. start time looking vaguely less drowsy than usual. The other member of your Secret Service detail — Agent Sisson — has music taste more in line with yours and you'd listened to Duran Duran on your way back to town this morning. That and a cup of strong coffee means that you're feeling okay but definitely in need of breakfast.

“Wellllllll,” Sydney’s grin is bright as she eyes you. “I see the walk of shame has taken on a festive air.” She teases, laughing as she moves over to pour you a cup of coffee. “I take it last night went well?”

“I have enough time to go upstairs and change before work,” you grumble, though you’re smiling and accept the cup of coffee gratefully. “Usual boring party, but I bring you home a new cake flavor combination to try, and it was nice to see Sam.”

She snorts. “Nice to see Sam.” She mimics. “It’s like you ran into him in the store.” She huffs at you. “This is your boyfriend. The man you love.”

“And that’s why it’s nice to see him more than just one measly night a week.” Given that you have a few minutes, you hop up on a stool at the counter beside her work station and groan in appreciation at the slice of sweet Italian brioche and carefully cut piece of frittata she plates up for you without hesitation. “Oh my god, thank you. All I’ve had so far is coffee. We overslept and both had to run out to get to work on time.”

“Overslept…” she rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach. “I wish I could remember what that was like.” She grumbles. “This one is giving me heartburn all the time and keeping my sleep short.”

“They just really want to make sure you remember they’re there,” you tease, picking up a forkful of frittata and not even caring what’s inside. Everything Syd makes it incredible. “Twenty-seven whole more weeks of this, Mama. Get excited!”

“I am, I promise. But the kid can let me sleep in a little, right?” She huffs playfully. “So how was the dinner? You came back from the market in a hurry so I didn’t get to talk to you. Did you forget about this or was it last minute?”

“It was last minute. He got a spontaneous invitation to a potential supporter’s wife’s birthday party.” Oh my god, spinach and artichoke frittata, so fucking good. “She got the gift of bragging rights that a Congressman and the First Daughter came to her party, and a very nice bottle of champagne.”

“Sounds like a ton of fun.” Sydney likes hobnobbing even less than you do, preferring to be on the service side of fancy events. “So you ate mildly bland catered food and drank way too much wine?”

“Exactly. Which is why this tastes even more incredible than usual.” You point at your plate even while scooping up another bite. “So did you and Juanito ever decide what you’re doing tomorrow? I know you scheduled yourself for the dinner rush, but you’ve got to do something.”

“My husband is amazing.” She promises, beaming in delight. “He actually got us reservations at St. Regis for the Valentine’s Day Afternoon Tea.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet! It’s so utterly romantic I could barf.” The momentary flash of jealousy is nothing, and you’re genuinely happy that they’ll be able to get out and do something. They work so incredibly hard and never complain for a second. “It’s perfect, Syd. I want a full report.”

“I’m excited.” She admits, biting her lip and fiddling with her practical silicone wedding band that she wears in the kitchen. “I’ve also been promised a very relaxing massage and a few orgasms.”

“All things which you deserve very much.” You raise your coffee cup in salute to her and grin.

“At the very least.” She huffs, her own grin one of pure happiness. “I am growing Badillo’s baby.” She reminds you, as if it isn’t common knowledge at this point. She’s so proud of being with her soulmate and she cock her head at you curiously. “Have you given any more thought to that tattoo?” She pries gently.

“Yes and no…” It’s much more yes than no, if you’re honest with yourself, but the fact is that it’s probably not good to think about it as much as you have. It’s like a never-ending loop in your mind and you absolutely can’t shake it. “I just don’t know what good it would do to bring it up. Or who I would even bring it up to.”

“You know who you should bring it up to.” She huffs.

“Who?” You challenge, feeling like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place without doing so much as being awake this morning. “My boyfriend of almost a year who asked me to move in with him and wants to start planning our future? Or the guy I barely know who invited me to dinner yesterday when I ran into him at Eastern Market and looked so hurt when I had to ask him to reschedule that I still feel like I kicked the world’s cutest puppy?” Clearly it’s been on your mind, and Syd is really the one person you can talk to about any of it. But admitting that you’ve been thinking about Marcus feels like cheating and you have always despised cheaters deeply. Being cheated on will do that to a person.

“You ran into Marcus?” Her eyes widen with the new information and she immediately sets down her spoon and walks around the counter to hug you. “Oh honey, talk to me. What happened?” She asks softly. While she might be pushing you to at least ask if you might be soulmates, she doesn’t want you to be upset.

“It wasn’t a big deal…we ran into each other and we finished our shopping together.” It’s such a relief to have a space to talk about it, and yet you know you’re blowing it out of proportion in your head. It was just a coincidence that you ran into him. Not fate. “We were both talking about wanting Indian for dinner so he asked if I wanted to go to the restaurant with him. We were just going to hang out. Then Sam called.”

“And of course you said yes to Sam.” Sydney doesn’t exactly approve of the way Sam seems to think that you wait for his call and will drop everything to accommodate him, but she doesn’t say anything. “How did Marcus take the change of plans?”

“He said he understood and that it was fine.” Which is, technically, what happened. So when you shift your eyes away from hers, Sydney makes a noise and you cave. “He seemed disappointed,” you admit, throwing up your hands. “But I’m probably just projecting that.”

“Anyone would be disappointed to not spend time with you.” Sydney defends immediately, always the best cheerleader for you. “Maybe text him and reschedule?” She suggests. “Friends have dinner, it’s not cheating. You aren’t going out on a date.”

“I know it’s not cheating.” Syd knows better than anyone why you hate liars and cheaters. “I texted him on my way in this morning to reschedule, but I don’t…I don’t know if he’ll respond. He was probably just being polite asking in the first place.”

“I doubt that.” Sydney had seen the covert looks that each one of them had given the other when they weren’t looking during game night. Both of them were curious and she is interested to know about that hummingbird tattoo, it’s not common, despite what you might say.

“Then it’s because I’m best friends with his friend’s soulmate,” you reason instead.

“No, it’s because Juan said that Marcus was trying to be polite but that he was interested in you.” Sydney tells you.

You feel the blood drain from your face shamefully fast, and your eyes dart up to meet your best friend’s. “He said that?”

“Yes.” She isn’t going to lie to you, Juan had told her that. “But, he also said that Marcus respects relationships and he’s not the type of man to make a move on you if you’re in a relationship.” She knows how you feel about that kind of thing and she agrees with you.

“Well…I mean…that’s good? Isn’t it? That just means he’s respectful.” Still , you find yourself sitting on the idea that Marcus likes you and being halfway between mortified and grinning. It feels ultimately childish and yet like your chest is filling full of something very much like joy.

“According to Juan, Marcus Pike is the best man, the best person that he’s ever known.” Sydney acknowledges with a nod, deciding not to comment on your giddy expression. “Even though he was busy with training at the academy, he was always helping with housework or running errands to take care of things.” She shrugs. “His ex-wife was a med student. So I guess she’s a doctor now.”

“It’s just a coincidence.” This mantra of yours is going to get old quick, but you have a partner. A long term one, even. One that until a week or so ago, you had thought you had a future with. Now that resolve is waning and you don’t really know how you started to question yourself so easily.

Sensing that you’ve dug your heels in, she backs off, giving a small shrug. “I’m sure it is.” She hums. “So what are your Valentine’s Day plans with Sam?” She asks. “Did he plan something romantic?”

“We’re going to dinner and then a community fundraiser in his district.” It doesn’t sound romantic, you will admit that, but anything too luxurious you did can be perceived in a very wrong way by the general public if it gets out. A Congressman and the First Daughter going to a spa getaway or the symphony would be seen as being out of touch with the people. “He…wants to talk about the future.”

“And you don’t sound like it’s a conversation that you are eager to have.” She sits down, her own herbal tea in front of her and she frowns slightly.

“I’m…not sure, honestly.” Without hesitation and without filter, the explanation about your conversation with Judge D’Amario’s wife and what Sam said at dinner with them comes tumbling out of your mouth and you can’t help but cringe to yourself when you get it all out in the open air. “Am I overreacting? Please tell me I’m overreacting.”

Sydney winces and gives you a small shrug. “He has known from the beginning that you aren’t the type to want to be a typical politician’s spouse and give up your career.” She reminds you. “Remember that night out in Alexandria? Where we were bar hopping? I had a very frank conversation with him about that.”

“You did?” Your forehead scrunches as you take a sip of coffee. “Then why would he think I would be willing to have someone else manage the inn?”

“I don’t know if I can answer that.” She admits quietly. “But I think he gave them his true ideal. You quitting and being by his side for all his accomplishments.”

“It’s not that I’m not proud of him.” Some would argue that that is what it signals, but you and Sydney are not those types of people. “He’s doing such good work, and I do want to have kids and a house and all that domestic stuff. I just…I don’t want to give up working. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life standing behind a podium waving politely. I’m—I want to be me, not an extension of my partner.”

“I know that.” She reaches out and takes your hand. “But does Sam? Really? I think that he can convince you that it’s what you want.” She huffs. “I know he’s a good guy, but is he the right guy?”

“Not everybody finds perfect,” you remind her quietly, knowing that that is exactly what she has with Juan. Their version of perfect is about support, respect, and unending silliness, and you’ve always craved the same. But there aren’t many men in the world like Juan. Not many at all.

“That doesn’t mean you need to settle.” She tells you, squeezing your hand gently. “If you are happy, I’m happy. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“To be honest?” Closing your eyes for a second to swallow a sigh, the best you can do is shake your head. “I didn’t think I was settling. But now I can’t help but wonder…”

“Then you owe it to yourself, and to Sam, to make sure before you commit any further.” She suggests, knowing that you would feel horrible about divorcing later on.

“How?” It’s an honest question, since the situation is tangled up in guesses and implied maybes. “Break up with Sam because Marcus might be my soulmate? What happens if I’m wrong and I regret the whole thing? Sam would never take me back and I would deserve it.”

“Ask Marcus to show you the tattoo.” She hums. “That’s not cheating. It would be no different than seeing him in swimming trunks.”

“If he ever responds to me.” Which you sort of doubt. You sort of did just drop plans with him the second your boyfriend called. But you are the kind of person who makes your relationship a priority. You always have been.

“And if he doesn’t….” She shrugs. “You just deal with that.” She frowns. “But I would be upset if you had done the same to me.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t have a right to be upset with me.” Marcus has a right to feel however he feels. He’s human, after all. “This whole thing is just so out of left field. Especially after spending all of last year talking about freedom of affection and being happy with a partner who isn’t your soulmate.”

“Except you had never potentially met your soulmate.” She pauses and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want to pursue it, don’t. Juan won’t say anything and I’ll just encourage him to hang out with Marcus on a guys night.”

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly, poking at the remains of your breakfast with a frown. “First let’s see if he speaks to me again. I gotta go change my clothes for work.” A heavy blanket of tension works on you that wasn’t there when you came home, and you drag yourself off the stool with a swallowed sigh. “Thanks for breakfast, honey.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs, wishing for a moment that Juan hadn’t run into Marcus. Hadn’t mentioned a tattoo that was throwing you into a spin. “I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thank you.” Coming around the counter, you wrap your arms around her tightly and inhale, trying to remember your yoga and let the stress roll off your shoulders and not carry it into the work day. “And I’m always here for you. No matter what.”

“I know.” She grins into your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, bitch.” She teases. “I will go to war for you, bury bodies and not even think twice.”

"No hesitation." You link your pinkies together, the same way you have since you were little kids. "I really have to go change now. But thanks for listening to me ramble and fret."

“Anytime.” She scoffs, waving away your thanks. “You’ve listened to me plenty.” Lately it’s been about being a good mother and not completely wrecking Baby Badillo, but she understands the need to just vent. You’re there for one another, both of you, through thick and thin.

______

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

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers

My Masterlist!

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

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milaisreading · 1 year

Text

I really like your BLLK headcanons about y/n's plushes! I adore the idea about y/n as BLLK manager, so if you accept bllk requests, can I ask you, please, for headcanons about y/n as bllk project manager and boys are whipped for her like in your headcanons? Have a great day and ignore it, if it's uncomfortable for you!~

Garden

Author:

Thank u for the request, I hope I am doing this the right way since I don't do requests often. Tried to keep it as short as possible🩷

Warnings ⚠️: none in particular. Reader uses she/her. Possible manga spoilers. Requests are open.

⚽️Blue lock belongs to:Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

It was one of those rare days when Ego allowed the team to use their phones instead of just training and sleep. (Y/n) was out with Anri to run some errands Ego came up with, much to their annoyance. The team wasn't really aware of the two being gone, as they were immersed in their phones. But it took only one post from a fan of theirs to set off a chain of chaos.

"Hey, (Y/n) isn't here today?" Isagi spoke up, showing Bachira and Gagamaru his phone. The two looked at it in confusion and soon after their expressions turned to one of realization, then they sighed.

"(Y/n) looks so cute~ Isagi, send me that picture!" Bachira commands as the boy sweat drops.

"You can find it on the internet yourself- Gagamaru you haven't blinked once since you started looking." The goalkeeper looked away from Isagi's phone and then at the boy, blinking a few times.

"I did." He simply answered, his face turning red as Bachira laughed and slapped his back.

"You are down bad, Gagamaru! Can't blame you though, (Y/n) is so cute and caring! Nobody could resist her!"

"True! She always does her best so that we are comfortable and can just focus on football." Isagi added with a dreamy sigh, getting nods from the other two.

"She also always pays attention to help us out with the parts we lack before Ego-san can scold us. That's really sweet of her." Gagamaru said nervously, his face turning red along with the other 2.

"Yeah." They sighed, but their moment of tranquility got interrupted as three of their other teammates entered the room, two looking confused and one pissed off. The former Team Z members raise their eyebrows at Rin as Chigiri and Rensuke sat down.

"What happened to you, Rin?" Bachira questioned as the taller huffed, sitting down between Rensuke and Isagi.

"Nothing. What are you two doing there?" The tale-eyed boy asked, his anger turning into confusion at their flustered faces. Isagi said nothing and showed Rin the phone, which still had the post of a fan on. It was a really simple picture of (Y/n) wearing the Blue Lock jacket and a mask, holding a box as Anri was in the background talking to someone. The caption was simple too, just a 'Happy to have gone outside today! Seeing (Y/n) is rare but so worth it!!'

Rin's face turned red and he let out a dreamy sigh, shocking Chigiri and Rensuke.

"What did you even show him? We have been trying to calm him down for the past 10 minutes." Chigiri asked as Rensuke leaned in to look at the phone. Chigiri looked on as his friend had the same reaction as Rin, just that it was way more obvious.

"Nothing much, a fan posted a picture of (Y/n) she seems to be out in the city right now." Gagamaru explained to the redhead, who took the phone from Isagi's hand.

"Hey!" The boy yelled as Chigiri ignored him while Bachira chuckled a little. The redhead blinked a few times as he went over the picture for a minute.

"Cute..." He muttered, grabbing the spot where his heart is dramatically. Isagi took the opportunity and took his phone from him, and then went to look at the picture again, meanwhile Rin and Bachira were leaning against his shoulders to look too.

"She looks so adorable~ Wish I was with her. I feel bad when she has to carry those boxes around." Chigiri pouted as Rensuke nodded in agreement.

"I never see her complain tho or even ask for help. Baro and I once wanted to help her but she just kept ignoring and asking us to go and rest."

"She is very considerate. We are very lucky Ego-san picked her as our manager." Rin added, causing the six to nod along.

"Guys! Did you see the pictures of (Y/n)?! The JFU updated some from today's conference!" Karasu yelled as him, Otoya, Baro and Hiori walked into the room. The others perked up as they looked at the boy.

"There are more?! Where?!"

"On JFU's official site. The pictures look glamorous, nothing out of the ordinary for her." Aryu said with a smile as he handed Chigiri his phone, prompting the others to huddle up next to him and look at them.

"So cute~"

"Look! She is waving too!"

"Look! The smile is there too!"

"Wish there were more pictures without the mask."

"I couldn't imagine being an outsider and only seeing (Y/n) once in a blue moon."

"Must suck. Thank God I am not one of them."

"You guys are so weak acting like that over some pictures. It's rediculous." Baro commented, causing the others to glare at him.

"What did you just say, you donkey?"

"Want to repeat that?!" Isagi and Bachira replied as Otoya let out a laugh next to Baro.

"Let's not pretend like you didn't have the same, if not a worse reaction."

"Yeah, your face was as red as a tomato from that one picture where (Y/n) was smiling at the camera." Karasu added as Aryu and Chigiri snickered.

"Weak minded king." Rensuke taunted.

"Shut up! Aside from that one, I am the most calm and collected."

"Anyways, my favorite one is where she was nearly caught falling asleep. Chigiri scroll down, you guys won't be disappointed!" Otoya urged, just in time when Nagi, Reo and Kurona walked in.

"My favorite one was the one where she is talking to Teieri-san. It always looks nice when she is relaxed." Hiori admitted with a blush.

"What are we looking at?" Nagi raised an eyebrow, walking to where Isagi was.

"Yeah, you all are quite loud." Reo said.

"New pictures of (Y/n). The JFU posted them. She looks so cute too!" Aryu said while Reo and Kurona ran to where Chigiri was, hoping to catch some glimpse of the manager.

"What?! Let me see. I didn't se (Y/n) in so long."

"We literally sat last night at dinner with her." Nagi told Reo, who looked at him dumbfounded.

"So? Too long- Hey Chigiri, can you return to the previous picture?" Reo urged as the boy agreed, wondering where their phones were.

"Whatever, hope (Y/n) will be back soon. I want to show her a new trick I learned." Kurona muttered, trying to move Gagamaru's head out of his sight.

"The real her is better than any of the pictures. These just don't do her justice." Karasu added, prompting the rest to agree unanimously.

"Oh? Rin, you seem in a better mood too? What were you even mad over?" Kunigami suddenly asked the tale-eyed boy, who just shook his head, trying to enjoy (Y/n)'s pictures in peace.

"Nothing...I forgot about it."

An hour before...

Rin was in the main hall enjoying the silence as he went through his phone, just checking in to see what his favorite artists and footballers were posting, when a message from his brother popped up. Now, him and Sae were now on better terms than previously, but not so much better for the older to write him at random times of the day. Cautiously, Rin opened the message and boy did he wish he didn't.

Sae: Hey Rin, you are good friends with your manager, right?

Sae: Could you tell me if she has any social media?

Sae: Could you also give her my phone number. She isn't dating anyone, right?

Present time...

"Absolutely nothing, it was resolved, anyways." Rin said to his orange-haired teammate, knowing his brother is probably pissed that he had left him on read.

"Can I show you another picture of (Y/n) I found on my camera roll? I think it was from our U-20 match!" Reo suddenly said, catching everyone's attention now.

"Show!"

"I wanna see!"

"When is (Y/n) coming back again?"

"Not sure, Gagamaru. I hope soon."

Meanwhile on the other side of the Blue Lock building (Y/n) let out a sneeze as she was looking through the 1st aid kid.

"Are you alright?" Niki asked in alarm as (Y/n) waved him off.

"Yeah, must be seasonal sickness. Anyways, how did you even manage to cut your finger like this? I am not used to you being clumsy." Niki blushed a little and looked away as (Y/n) started disinfecting his cut.

"Accidents, you know!" Niko answered nervously, enjoying the short moment he had with her.

'Her hands are so soft!!'

579 notes · View notes

jeonqkooks · 1 year

Text

our beloved summer | jjk (06)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, kissing (omg k1ss1ng omg WHO IS IT ??? 😦), tbh this is the only warning i wanted u guys to read cuz 6 chapters in and we finally get sum action i feel like that's a win lmaooooo, jimin being Real as fook, unbeta'd cuz uhm i'm a godless menace who should be conked on the head, once again we are severely lacking jk in his own fic lol i'm owning up to this 🤗 BUT! this is probably the last chapter where jk feels like a side character lol apologies my dudes

rating: PG-13

word count: 8.1k (honestly i wrote obs6 just so i could get to obs7 lmao that's why it's a lil bit shorter)

note: my apologies if this sucks. you are legally allowed to stone me if you hate it. but i hope you don't hate it. but if you do hate it don't tell me just stone me lol 🤐 why am i so unhinged with this update

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Exile - Taylor Swift (ft. Bon Iver)

The picture is fucking terrible.

“Jimin, what the fuck,” you grumble, staring at the huge framed photo on the wall, taken on the day of the opening party. You, Taehyung and Jimin are gathered on the floor of the dance studio, with boxes of takeout neatly sitting between the three of you. “I look like ass.”

Jimin barely glances at the wall, just continues to stuff his face with the dumplings that you ordered. “You look fine,” he says absentmindedly, mouth full, continuing to munch on the food despite your little dilemma.

“Bitch, I have my eyes closed.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I look like I’m in the middle of a sneeze.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, squinting at your photographed self again. The more you look at it, the more irritated you become.

Realistically, you know nobody would pay enough attention to notice the immortalized visual of your fluttering eyes, and you yourself wouldn’t care about it that much. Maybe you would even laugh in good spirits and poke fun at yourself as you often do. Make a meme of it for the group chat.

“What’s the big deal?” Jimin asks.

You shrug petulantly. “I told you. I look like ass.”

Yeah, true, but it’s also more than that.

It’s the fact that the person standing next to you looks so good that you must voice your grievances. It’s the fact that he looks so much more than just good.

The guys stop eating to look at you. You wonder just how much of what you’re feeling is written all over your face. Regardless, they don’t comment on it.

One of them clears his throat, shaking the whole thing off.

“Did you tell Yoongi anything yet?” Jimin asks.

You poke at a lone dumpling with your chopsticks, popping the ‘p’ when you say, “Nope.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jimin scolds you. “It’s been three weeks. He doesn’t want to push you for an answer but the man has got to be suffering.”

You flick a piece of spring onion garnish at him. It lands on his hair, a single bit of green sitting among golden locks. “I don’t know what to tell him!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jimin shakes the onion piece from his head and chucks it back at you. “Obviously you say yes!”

You exhale through your nose, then take a bite of your dumpling. You nibble on the fried dough, stretching out the silence, delaying your response.

It hasn’t even started, and it might not even start. But you’re already thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Yoong is your friend, first and foremost. He’s a good friend, and you would be crushed if you lose that relationship.

What if he hurts you, or you hurt him?

Sometimes, people are meant to hurt each other even if they don’t mean to.

Yoongi hasn’t seen your pieces in all of their jagged glory, how they’re only meant to reflect the light but never be healed by it. He’s still blissfully unaware of the ugly thoughts that have a home inside your head, and you’re afraid if you let him in, he’d realize it’s a place he doesn’t want to be. It’s hard to love a broken thing. You wouldn’t want to love you either.

Maybe this is the real reason that’s been holding you back all this time. Maybe it isn’t Jungkook - though he certainly isn’t absolved - but it’s you, and how you just don’t know if you’re someone who deserves to love and be loved. You’ve felt inadequate more times than you can count. You’ve been left before. Who’s to say it isn’t going to happen again?

You’re well aware that this is a bad way to look at things, but can anyone really blame you? You still have a heart, and despite how fragmented it is, you still want to protect it.

“I know that look,” Taehyung says, parting your fog and pulling you back to him. “You’re overthinking again.”

You roll your eyes. He knows you so well, but does he have to call you out every time?

“I’m not overthinking. I’m regular thinking.”

“Right. And to normal people, that’s overthinking.”

“It’s just…” you wonder out loud, gaze on the floor. “What if I go all in, and Yoongi sees me for who I am and thinks that I’m just an utterly sad person who can’t be loved? That I’m too much work when he’s got literally thousands of people throwing themselves at him left and right?”

Taehyung stares at the side of your face as he bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue soothes the spot, his jaw clenching once. “He’s not going to think that.”

“You don’t know that,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging down.

“You’re not unlovable just because one person didn’t love you right. So stop it with that bullshit, because I love you,” he says, voice serious. Even Jimin stays silent as he listens to his friend, his eyes flickering between you and Taehyung. “And Jimin loves you. Hobi loves you.”

You merely blink, because you hate it when he’s right. In all fairness, you understand. This is the same thing you would tell him if the situation were reversed.

You deflect anyway. That’s what you do best.

“You don’t count,” you tell him with an unserious scoff, your tone starkly contrasting his. “You’re my family.”

You taste something bitter as soon as the words leave your mouth. You should know better than anyone, that just because someone’s your family, doesn’t mean they have to love you.

Taehyung reenacts the blinking guy meme before chuckling, holding a hand over his chest like you’ve just wounded him. “Ouch.”

“You two are getting nowhere,” Jimin interjects. “Just call Yoongi.”

“And say what?” you ask.

“I told you. Say yes. God, you’re so dense sometimes.”

You reach over to jab a finger into his side, making him hiss and shuffle away from you.

“That wasn’t nice,” you grumble.

“Well, somebody’s gotta say it.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised for a few seconds before he lowers them and grows more stern. “Come on, Y/N. You know you don’t want to say no, or else you would’ve turned him down already. You said you wanted to start dating again. Yoongi is practically on his knees offering himself to you. What are you waiting for?”

There’s a voice in the back of your head - tiny, barely audible - that whispers, Who are you waiting for?

“Fuck it, I’ll say it,” Jimin continues. “It sucks balls that Jungkook hurt you, but you can’t let that affect you for the rest of your life. Not everyone is going to hurt you. You’re not even giving Yoongi a chance just because someone else did you dirty. If you keep always thinking about the worst possible outcome and banking on it to happen, then you’re never going to get anywhere. I love you, dude, but y’know.”

You stare at Jimin with your mouth slightly open, stunned into silence. When you glance at Taehyung, he’s surprised too, though probably not as much as you.

After a couple of minutes, you say, “Wow.”

“Tough love. I have my moments.” Jimin shrugs casually, like he didn’t just drop a truth bomb on your head. “But also…” He picks his phone up and types something in. Your phone instantly buzzes with a notification.

“Open the link I just sent you,” he says.

“You are literally sitting across from me.”

“Just open it! I made you a playlist.”

“Aw, Jimin, that’s so cute,” you coo softly, reaching over to pinch his cheek before he swats your hand away. You unlock your phone to see what Jimin made you, because that is some friendship hall of fame stuff right there. However, when the link redirects you to your music app, your smile immediately drops.

Aaand he’s back.

You stare at the screen for a good ten seconds to try and find your bearings, flabbergasted at something that is quite honestly very on-brand for Jimin if you think about it. “You made me a playlist called Dick Appointment with an eggplant emoji and the tongue out emoji and it’s mostly just Yoongi’s songs. Even the playlist cover is from his Valentino shoot.”

“So you can get it on while Agust D plays in the background!” Jimin grins, and you could just smack it right off his face.

“Park Jimin, who raised you? You are vile.”

“Validate me,” he demands. Oh, you would smack him. You really would. “I spent hours making that playlist.”

“It’s literally just Yoongi’s songs.”

“Yeah, but I had to curate an experience. I can’t just dump every song into a playlist and call it a day. I gotta make sure they fit the vibe.”

“I literally just heard the most profound shit from you not even two minutes ago.” Then, you turn to Taehyung with an exasperated look on your face. “Why would you let him do this?”

He just waves a dismissive hand in the air, like Jimin isn’t even there. “I’m not responsible for the stupid shit he does.”

Jimin crosses his arms in front of his chest, both eyebrows raised dramatically as he gapes at you. “You both suck. From now on, you can make your own sexytime playlists.”

“Nobody even asked you to do that!” you cry.

“Yeah! Which makes me an even more considerate friend,” he says. “Ugh. Whatever. Go call Yoongi.”

“You want me to do it now?”

“Yes. Because I know you’ll wuss out when you’re alone. You can stay and put him on speakers for us to hear or you can go out into the hallway. Come on, chop chop.”

“No, I have to text him first,” you protest. “What if he’s busy?”

Jimin narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, but allows you this after a moment. “Fine.”

You take out your phone from your bag that’s lying carelessly on the floor to draft a quick message to Yoongi.

[12:59] You: got a minute?

The three of you go back to the food, abandoning the previous topic of conversation in favor of something lighter and meaningless or else you would go crazy waiting for Yoongi’s reply. After you’re finished, you and Taehyung are in the middle of putting away all the empty containers and soda cans when your phone buzzes again.

You go to grab it to look at the notification, hands already starting to sweat.

[13:17] Yoongi: for you? always :)

You turn back to the guys to find them already looking at you. Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively while Taehyung just stares at you.

“Time to get your whore on,” Jimin says in an exaggeratedly sultry voice.

You turn to Taehyung for help. “He’s bullying me.”

“Ignore him,” your best friend tells you gently. “Go call Yoongi.”

When you take your phone out into the hallway, you make sure to go to the far end of it, near the main entrance so the two dorks can’t eavesdrop. You’ll tell them everything once you come back anyway, but you don’t want them within earshot while you’re in the middle of it.

Yoongi picks up your call on the third ring. In the background, your ear picks up on some chatter.

“Hey, princess,” he greets you. Then he holds the phone away from his ear to tell someone that he’d be back in a bit.

“Hey,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Just at a fitting. I have an ad campaign to film next week,” he answers. “Did you call just to get my whereabouts?”

“No, I… If you’re busy, we can talk later.”

“We’re still in the middle of lunch break anyway. What did you want to talk about?”

You briefly regret not taking a minute to psych yourself up before. You suck in a deep breath, which eases your nerves for just a second, long enough for you to say, “Yes.”

You’re met with brief silence from the other end of the line, which only makes your palms more clammy than they already are.

“Yes?” he echoes confusedly. “Yes what?”

“Yes,” you say again. “To…”

The silence commences once more, and lasts longer than you think you can handle. Then, you hear him stop in the middle of a breath.

“Oh.” A subsequent chuckle in response to the lightbulb that must’ve been switched on. “To that?”

“...Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

It feels like you two have invented a secret language that nobody else could understand. A single syllable, bouncing off the metaphorical walls of your conversation. Two idiots sharing the same brain cell.

“Yes?” he continues to prod, but at this point, you know he’s just teasing you.

“Yes! God, stop making me say it again. We sound so stupid.”

He graces you with a hearty laugh that makes you fight back a sheepish smile, even though there isn’t a single soul in sight to witness it. Yoongi makes you so fucking shy for some reason. Your nerves dissolve momentarily as you lean against the wall, your index finger running along a crack in the paint.

“Hmm, I wish you would’ve told me this in person,” he says, his voice soft.

“I can’t handle you in person. You’d tease me so much.”

“Because you’re adorable when you’re flustered, that’s why.” He waits a second before adding, “You’re blushing right now, aren’t you?”

“You’re being overly confident, Min.”

“Maybe,” he responds easily. “But am I right, though?”

“Shut up.”

When Yoongi said he would cook for you, you almost gasped.

“You can cook?” you had asked. It wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation or anything, but you suppose you’d never given much thought to the hidden sides of him.

“Y/N,” he laughed then. “I’m a great cook. I could probably make a pretty decent career out of being a chef.”

“I didn’t know that,” you told him sheepishly.

“There’s a lot of things you still need to know about me.” It sounded like a promise. Like I’m willing to show you me. Like I’m willing to take the first step if you’d be in this with me too. “Does that sound like a good idea? You, me, dinner at your place?”

“My place?”

“Yeah, so you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll come over.”

This one simple gesture shouldn’t affect you that much, but it does. You appreciate that he’s considerate even when it comes to the littlest things. You swell with gratitude for the thought he puts into this, into putting your comfort first. It made you feel a bit better about yourself, calmed your stormy sea of thoughts enough to rationally accept the fact that he genuinely cares.

Regardless, it doesn’t stop you from spending most of the day obsessively cleaning your apartment. Even - and especially - your bedroom, although you’re sure that is not where the night will end. Every surface is spotless, not a single speck of dust to be found. It’s like the goddamn Pope is coming over for a house inspection.

You haven’t had a first date in… fuck, how long has it been now? Nine years? It’s almost been a fucking decade already? You honestly can’t tell if that’s embarrassing or not.

But you remember the last time.

College, freshman year, with Jungkook. His yellow piece of sticky note that he slipped inside your favorite book. His adorably flustered expression when he timidly stood in front of you in the campus library. The way he was trying so hard to be confident and charming throughout your first dinner together. How he ran back to you after saying goodnight.

No.

You shut your eyes and shake your head, warding off any Jungkook-related thoughts before they could send you spiraling. You can’t reminisce about your ex while waiting for someone else to show. Yoongi deserves better, and that’s what you’re trying to be.

You’re not exactly sure how nice you should dress tonight. Yoongi told you that you could be clad in sweats for all he cares. If the dinner didn’t hold any connotation other than platonic, maybe you would’ve really donned your loungewear like you were merely having Taehyung and Jimin over for pizza.

You’d completely forgotten all the things people worry about in the early stages of dating, when you want to impress the other person but don’t want them to think that you’re trying too hard.

Calm down. It’s just Yoongi. He’s seen you ugly crying with mascara running down your face, for fuck’s sake.

In the end, you opt for a sweater and a comfortable skirt. Casual.

Yoongi rings your doorbell about ten minutes later than when he said he’d be there, holding a bag full of groceries. The visual alone makes you bite back a giggle and subsequently fail. You believe this is what people would call husband material.

You take his coat and guide him into your home. “Welcome to my humble abode,” you say shyly, gesturing around as you lead him into the kitchen to show him where everything is. Why are you acting like this? This isn’t you. If Taehyung or Jimin could see you right now, they would probably laugh. Hoseok would straight up be rolling on the floor.

You barely breathe as you watch Yoongi take in his surroundings. It’s intimidating, even though you know it’s just Yoongi.

“I actually don’t know what I expected, but I like it. It’s very you,” he comments, smiling.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it’s cute,” he says, throwing you a wink as he leans against your kitchen counter.

You avert your gaze immediately. “Oh… Thanks,” you reply, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “So, uhm, what are you making? How can I help?”

“Just sit down. I got this.”

“Yoongi,” you say his name in protest. “I want to h-”

“I’m trying to romance you here. Let me do that,” Yoongi says, his smile turning lopsided as he starts emptying the contents of his grocery bags. Even though his tone is light, the gentle reminder of tonight being a date shuts you right up.

You take a seat at your dining table, though you can’t really sit still. As Yoongi starts working, you absentmindedly talk to each other about your day, about his campaign, about Seokjin’s album. At one point, you get up to creep over to his side when the smell of whatever he’s making becomes more prominent. You try to peek at the pot, curious, but he just shoos you away by bumping his hip against yours.

When you give him a small pout, you pretend not to notice the way his eyes dart to your mouth. You retract yourself from his personal space, choosing a spot on the other side of your kitchen island, staring at his back as he works.

You watch him expertly navigate your kitchen like he’s been here before. When he’s finished, he makes you sit down, not even letting you help bring the food to the table.

“What is it?” you ask once he’s settled in his seat, everything plated in front of you.

“Kimchi jjigae,” he says, a proud look on his face. “My mom’s recipe.”

It’s endearing, and it makes you smile.

For the most part, Yoongi lets you eat in peace, though there’s still a couple of flirtatious comments here and there. Every time it comes, you bite down on your bottom lip to try and snap out of that daze before you cough, as if that would help tone down the colors adorning your face. There’s no verbal response from you, and it seems like Yoongi doesn’t expect one either, because he just chuckles. You think he must notice the palpable nervousness that radiates off of you, but it’s not like you’re doing a very good job at hiding it.

You’re taking baby steps and he knows it. The fact that you even agreed to this at all is already major progress.

When you’re done eating, he clears the table while he asks you to open the expensive bottle of wine that he brought over. It does wonders for your nerves.

Three glasses in and you’re visibly more relaxed as you both sit on the couch in the living room, facing each other. There’s a small smile on your face that you can’t help, maybe it’s some of your inhibitions wearing off as a side effect of the alcohol.

You glance around the room, and you take in the sight of Yoongi sitting here, this close to you. He feels bigger than your small world can handle.

“You know,” you start. If the wine didn’t make you more mellow, you probably wouldn’t be saying this. “There are thousands of people thirsting over you every day.”

Yoongi tilts his head, swirling the wine in his glass. “Really?”

“Don’t you look at the internet? I personally know two girls from college who are on the Yoongi Marry Me train,” you say matter-of-factly, like you aren’t borderline tipsy in front of him.

You aren’t an avid Twitter user, but every time you check the damn bird app, Yoongi is almost always trending. In every single one of his posts on social media, there is always an influx of comments asking him to marry them. Not only that, when word first got out about you collaborating with Agust D back then, people you knew - both old friends and acquaintances - practically bombarded your messages to see if it was true, and to ask if you could get them an autograph.

Yoongi stretches out his legs until they brush against yours. Your stomach flips even though it’s only your legs that are barely touching.

“The what train?”

“You seriously don’t know about the Yoongi Marry Me movement? Look it up. It’s a whole thing. People would do anything to, I don’t know, hold your hand or something.”

With an amused look on his face, he holds your gaze. “Would you?”

“What?”

“Would you do all of that just to hold my hand? Because you don’t have to, y’know.” He brings the wine glass to his lips, partially hiding his face from you, and you don’t know whether he’s doing it for your sake or his in preparation for the words he speaks next. “But I would do it to hold yours.”

You’re sure that your cheeks are burning bright, your stomach twisted in knots. It’s the wine, but it’s definitely the effect of his words too. You stare at Yoongi in surprise; no matter how many times he openly flirts with you, he’d still elicit the same reaction from you. It’ll be hard to get used to it. He just always seems to know what to say to make you blush like a schoolgirl, which you resent but you can’t deny the sparks of excitement that make your fingertips tingle.

Yoongi is smooth, and it’s even worse - or is it better? You haven’t decided yet - that you know he means every word he says. It makes you feel… wanted. It’s good to know that he’s being genuine, and to know that Yoongi isn’t the type of person who would ever pull the rug out from under you.

Yoongi is… stable.

You suppose, after everything you’ve been through, that stability is what you need. It’s good for you.

You try to swerve around the thoughts, to avoid them at all costs, but deep down you know now that they’re glaringly true.

That love is stored in two bags of groceries, so filled to the brim that some onions almost fall out. Love is stored in every flick of his wrist holding a knife, slicing the sharp blade across your cutboard. Clean cuts, yet he’s never this way when it comes to you.

Love is stored in a fond smile and adoring eyes when he sees how you cradle your expensive dishware like it’s a newborn baby before you set it carefully on the table.

Love is stored in a Yoongi-shaped silhouette, dancing over your countertops with practiced precision in every movement, filling in the cracks of your home. The love in him is reserved because you, like the moon when it crescents, still have a ways to go.

When he stands at your door an hour later with his coat in hand, you wait for him to speak first.

“Performance review?” he asks. “How did I do?”

“I… liked it. It was nice,” you say honestly. But you still feel the wine in your system, and it makes you bold enough to tease him for a change. “But it was my first date in a while, so it’s hard to tell if that opinion is objective.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Do I qualify for a second date then?”

You hum in thought, making him wait on purpose. “Yeah, I guess,” you say, feigning nonchalance, which earns you a hearty laugh.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks, hopeful.

“Don’t know yet,” you answer, though you’ll probably end up going home and catching up on a kdrama. “Are you coming in tomorrow?”

“Just in the morning. I have a shoot in the afternoon.” He shifts to lean his weight on his other leg, tipping his body closer to you. “But I can pick you up after.”

“Yeah? And where would we go?”

Yoongi shrugs in earnest. “Just drive around? Grab a bite?” he thinks out loud, tilting his head slightly to one side for emphasis. “I could take you to that popup store you mentioned.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You would stand in line with me to buy a novelty mug?”

“Pretty sure we wouldn’t have to stand in line if I gave them a call,” he says, grinning. “One of the perks of the job, y’know.”

“Must be nice,” you laugh, then shift to lean just a tad closer to him. You look at him for a brief moment before you agree, “Yeah, okay.”

You and Yoongi stand there at the door, each of you on either side of the threshold. This would be an appropriate moment for a kiss, you think. That explosive first kiss, if this were a movie. Exhilaration courses through your veins. You feel it from your head to the tips of your fingers to your toes. The feeling is rendering you a mere teenager again.

It’s exciting because it’s new. You have the entire book ahead of you, waiting to be written. At this point, anything could happen. You’re a blank canvas waiting to be drawn, a blank page hoping to be written.

Wait.

Back up.

A kiss?

A kiss?!

With Yoongi?

You’re thinking about kissing Yoongi?!

Fuck.

Fuck?!

It’s the wine.

Your thoughts knock against each other like bumper cars, echoing loudly in your brain that it almost gives you a headache.

You stay still as Yoongi leans down, your heart racing while your brain just keyboard-smashes. You can’t tell if you want him to kiss you or not, but when he only presses his lips against your cheek, you feel two emotions at once.

The first is disappointment, the second is relief. They press down on you with almost equal force, and you’re not really sure which one weighs heavier.

Baby steps.

You blink when he pulls away, and he just smiles fondly at you as if he can read your mind.

“Goodnight, princess.”

You watch him until he’s in the elevator, until the doors close and the lift descends. Even when you know that he must be on his way to his car and that someone else is making their way up, you stand there, with your hand loosely wrapped around the door handle, your breathing slightly erratic as you process what just happened.

Déjà vu?

It’s oddly reminiscent.

You’ve been here before.

Part of you thinks he’ll burst through the elevator doors, or rush up the stairs if the lift is occupied, and come back to grab your face and kiss you senseless.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook knows you’re probably waiting for Yoongi.

He’s seen Yoongi pick you up after work almost daily over the past couple of weeks, and it’s driving him insane. Even on the days that Yoongi comes to the studio during the day, the guy is all over you, so much so that he doesn’t even bother being a nuisance to Jungkook anymore, which just makes him a thousand times more insufferable.

Something is happening.

He can’t weasel shit out of Jimin anymore because Jimin has been especially tight-lipped after accidentally spilling Yoongi’s confession to you.

Because that should be him in Yoongi’s place. Or should he say his place, and Yoongi is just a placeholder. An imposter.

Because it used to be him that you smiled shyly at.

Jimin’s words have been plaguing his every waking hour since he was forced to hear them. If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too. It feels like he’s rewinding all of your memories, retracing them with cautious fingers only to find that his every footstep is being erased to make room for someone else.

An abandoned dirt road, while you walk down a flower-filled path holding someone else’s hand.

Like you’re stamping him out.

Like he was never there at all.

Not only are you denying him a chance, you’re giving it to someone else. When he tries to move at someone else’s pace, all he gets is left behind.

It’s not about Yoongi; or at least, it’s not just about him. Yoongi doesn’t even really matter to Jungkook in this equation. It’s about what Yoongi represents. An idea of a person that Jungkook can never be.

A bigger life. A stable present and an even brighter future. Yoongi is everything better than him.

And that’s his own problem to deal with, not anyone else’s. At the end of the day, no one has to live with his insecurities but himself.

But still, he can’t help it. Whenever he sees you with Yoongi, his eyes burn. Please don’t let him take my place, he wishes every time, you’re the only good thing about me.

It’s jealousy, sure, of course it’s there.

But what if you realize what everyone else already knows? That Yoongi is better in every single way. That Yoongi is the person who really deserves you.

What if you start to see Jungkook the way he sees himself?

You hating him - despising him with every cell in your body - is a thousand times better than you deeming him unworthy.

“I talked to Jihyo,” he speaks up suddenly, when it’s only the two of you.

“Okay,” you answer, never taking your eyes off the page in front of you. You must have circled the words daisy a thousand times already, wracking your brain for anything that rhymes. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but good for you.”

At this point, you wonder if you should just avoid the studio for the time being. It’s empty here again. You resent Seokjin for drowning in concept photos. You resent Namjoon for leaving Jungkook here to fend for himself, but it’s only fair, because Namjoon was only supposed to give him a helping hand, not take over the whole thing. You even resent Yoongi a bit, for not being here right this second.

“I talked to her,” Jungkook says again, ignoring your sass. “She won’t give you a hard time anymore.”

This makes you look at him. You never asked him to do this. You never asked him to do anything. In fact, you have only ever implored him to sit still and leave things alone.

“She never gave me a hard time,” you say. Sure, you don’t appreciate being given the death glare first thing in the morning, but it’s not something that you can’t ignore. It doesn’t actively affect you, and the only reason Jihyo does it is because of Jungkook.

Because he broke things off with her?

Because he gives you more attention?

Ugh. Attention?

This is the stupidest and most childish thing you have had to think about in ages.

“You said she acts differently toward you.”

“And aren’t you the reason why?” you counter. “Because you two were fucking?”

Jungkook visibly winces at your words, like he did when you mentioned it the first time in the break room. You don’t mean to be snarky; you’re just stating the facts. They were hooking up.

You don’t harbor any ill will toward any of his past lovers, and that includes Jihyo. You know she doesn’t have anything against you either, at least not on a personal level because you don’t know each other well enough to do so. She’s just someone you pass by every day on your way to the elevator.

“So why did things end?” you ask just for the sake of it, since he was the one who brought it up. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

He hesitates for a moment. “She wanted something more and it wasn’t the same for me.”

It’s stupid that the tiny voice in the back of your head resurfaces, hoping that you were the reason why he couldn’t pursue things with another woman.

Jihyo isn’t you, that much is clear. You never asked for anything more from him, not once from start to finish. He was always the first one to pour love into you. It’s arguable which one of you loved the other more - maybe you loved each other equally, just in different ways - but it was a fact that Jungkook always took the initiative. He made the first move so you wouldn’t have to. He gave you the option to match his affection, and never have to worry about being left out to dry.

He took initiative, right until the very end.

You bite your bottom lip, then give him a curt response, “Okay.”

Your phone vibrates with a text from Yoongi but you don’t open it just yet. You look at Jungkook, who only looks back at you. His lips part slightly as he searches for the right words, or any word at all. It’s like you’re asking him to navigate a minefield when all he has to do is be honest. Even if he told you that he fell out of love with you, it wouldn’t be that bad. You would be hurt, yes, but you wouldn’t blame him. You would understand. It would be a reason.

Silence fills the room, save for the continuous tapping of your pen on paper.

He says your name, pleading. “I’m trying here.”

At Jimin’s party, Jungkook said you were someone important to him. You don’t doubt that he meant it, and that’s what infuriates you the most. You’re important, but he keeps running circles around you and making your head spin. You’re important, but everything he’s done makes you think that you’re the opposite. You’re important, just not important enough to get an explanation.

You know he’s genuine about everything he says, but that’s not enough. You can’t sustain yourself on just his words alone.

It’s another cycle of the same conversation, running over and over and over again. He’s reaching out but he’s holding back. You’re still getting nowhere. You don’t know how many times he has to make you ask this, only to not give you any clarity at all.

If there is a trait of Jungkook’s that you both love and hate at the same time, it is that he doesn’t know when to quit.

He texts you every day even when you don’t reply - one for good morning, and one for goodnight. He gets you a chai latte every day, which doesn’t do shit for your concentration because there’s not enough caffeine in it. He gets the door for you whenever you go into the same room together. He hounds your every waking moment. He makes sure that he’s the first thing you see when you wake up, and the last thought that crosses your mind before you go to sleep.

I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

You suppose this is him, showing up again. In a lot of ways, it’s selfish. But it’s an effort too. Now your phone is full of meaningless messages that remain unread.

You barely glance at him. It’s routine at this point. He tries in ways that you don’t bother acknowledging anymore, because you figured that the best course of action is to let him wear himself out. When he has had enough of it, when he deems his efforts to be enough to absolve his guilt, he’ll stop. He has to.

But at what point does it stop?

At what point will you stop wanting to give in to him? Your mind rages wars with itself every time you feel his eyes on you, and you have to kill the urge to not turn your head and look at him too. At what point will you stop wanting to go to him and let him in again? At what point will you stop unconsciously making him a priority?

All of this, you supposed, is to say: Do you still love him?

You know that if you sit down and get to the root of it, you’ll find an answer you don’t like. Even in this moment, you want him to tell you just a fraction of the truth, because that would probably be enough to reel you back in.

Your own heart claws at your chest but this is how it has to be for a while. All you can do is take it one day at a time, gently nudge your heart in one direction like a child that needs to be goaded, until he doesn’t live on the forefront of your mind anymore.

Until someone else does.

“No, you’re not.” You stand up then, closing your notebook with more force than necessary. “If you’re really trying, then I wouldn’t still be wondering why I wasn’t enough to make you stay.”

Even then, you’re still hoping that he’d say something else. But when you’re only met with silence, the anticipated disappointment in you bubbles, boiling. His reluctance to clue you in makes it easier for you to decide.

There's someone else who's willing to give you things that you don't even need to ask for.

In your mind, it's clear who you should choose.

Jungkook clenches his teeth, holding his breath as he watches you shove your things into your bag. “Are you going home?” he asks after a minute.

You could say yes and let the conversation die a swift and simple death. But for some reason, you choose to kill it violently. You bite the inside of your cheek before you tell him, “I don’t know. Yoongi’s picking me up.”

The chagrinned look that takes over his features for a split second is one that you immediately catch. Maybe it’s because he wants to make sure you know how he feels about this, or maybe you still have a way of reading him somehow. Regardless of what his face tells you, he doesn’t prod any further.

Your phone vibrates on the table, the sound ten times more thunderous amidst the silence that’s befallen the both of you. You don’t need to check the screen to know who’s calling, and neither does he. When you leave, the sound of your fading footsteps ricochets off the walls. It shoots right through him.

He hears every word of that conversation ringing in his ears then. He recalls that afternoon’s sunset; it was the most beautiful sunset he saw that year, despite the sun overhead mocking him with every magnificent glint of light. He sees the look on your face when his words finally register in your mind, the Oh moment when you understood what he was saying, when the smile you wore sunk helplessly to the floor because even though you knew that love had an expiration date, you hoped your love would be the exception.

That memory fades, only to be replaced by something much worse. He sits there with Jimin’s words, echoing in his mind, reverberating around the room.

Technically, you and Yoongi haven’t been on a second date. You think.

You’ve seen him almost every night since the dinner, when he picks you up at the studio. Sometimes, you two just drive around. Sometimes, you sit by the river in the cold, eating hot ramen cups and giggling over nothing. Sometimes, he just takes you straight to your home if he has a packed schedule the next day.

These days, you see Yoongi even more than you see Taehyung. Even though he hasn’t explicitly implied that any of these outings is a date, you know you aren’t hanging out as just friends anymore.

It feels good to be wanted. The feeling is reinforced tenfold because it’s been so long that it’s like you’re experiencing it for the first time in a new body, as a different person.

But even after all of that, you two can still go back to being friends like nothing ever happened. Because in a way, maybe nothing did happen. Maybe things have always been like this between you, the only difference is now you’re noticing the meaning behind his words and glances.

You two can still go back, because technically, no line has been crossed.

But tonight, something feels different. It’s colder, but Yoongi keeps you warm with all the looks he’s been giving you all night.

It feels like you’re both toeing that line right now.

You know that once you cross it, things can’t revert back to the way they were anymore.

You know that it will happen eventually, because Yoongi isn’t doing this just to half-ass it. He won’t back out, and he has made it crystal clear from the start.

Usually, this is the part where he tells you goodnight and you have to pretend not to freak out when he kisses you on the cheek in goodbye.

He takes a step closer, you take no step back.

“You know what I’m about to do, right?”

You do. You could say you’re even hopeful.

“I might have an idea…”

“Okay,” he says easily. He takes your waist in his hands and brings you closer. The way the corner of his mouth tugs upward tells you that he’s pleased, that you know what’s about to come and you’re letting it happen. Still, he asks, “Can I?”

You nod. That glowing sensation washes over you in waves.

“Words, princess,” he reminds you.

Your hands land on the lapel of his coat. “Yes, you can.”

He chuckles, and squeezes you a little tighter.

Then it happens.

The line you clumsily drew in the sand has been erased.

Yoongi is kissing you.

You’re kissing him back.

He’s soft and warm and he holds you like you’re delicate. His sincerity, you can feel it in his kiss, and it’s only a fraction of it. Regardless, there is still life that blooms this winter. Inside of you, small and fragile, but it’s there.

You sigh into his mouth, feeling completely limbless if not for him holding your body upright. One of his arms wounds itself tighter around your middle while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear so he could cup your cheek more easily. Yoongi tilts his head further to one side to deepen the kiss. You feel something in his kiss that you have never heard in his words, something soft and pleading. Wanting but still contained. Out of fear that you might run away, perhaps? You can’t blame him though. You are a bit of a flight risk.

The wind dances past like a nosy bystander, pressing you further into him like it wants you to be more sure in the way you move, in how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him. Instead, the cold just makes you shiver.

When you break away, his hand on your face moves to hold the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t look half as flushed as you think you do, though his cheeks are slightly rosy.

Through a thin veil of clouds, the moon still shines down on his profile.

The chill in the air, the mesmerizing view of moonlight dancing across his features, and most of all, the way you’re still lost in the kiss, in the feeling of being wanted.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you up,” he says, after you stay silent for a beat too long, hooded eyes basking in the warmth of a heart chasing your own. You want to want him. You do want him, but there’s still something missing. It doesn’t feel entirely right, but for now, you try not to dwell on it too much. Just let it be. Maybe in time, that void will inevitably fill.

Yoongi holds your hand through the lobby and on the whole way up even if neither of you says anything, just shy glances in the elevator and bashful half-hidden smiles. You don’t invite him in once you get to your door - because an invite now insinuates something that you just aren’t ready for - but he does kiss you again. If the kiss you shared downstairs is a proper goodnight kiss, then this one means see you later and doesn’t last half as long, but it makes you tingle just the same.

He pulls back, only to dive in again, and again, and again, until one chaste kiss turns into five and you have to push him away with a giggle so you can breathe.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes still set on your mouth. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yoongi,” you say, a little breathily, like oxygen hasn’t sufficiently made its way into your lungs since downstairs.

He rests his forehead against yours. “You’ve never said my name like that before,” he sighs.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you again.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth and pretend to consider this even though you know you would like to be kissed again. “Maybe I do,” you say after a beat, bravely. “Just one more.”

He gives you your final kiss of the night then, one that lasts a second longer than the others, like he’s trying to memorize how you taste.

You head in once Yoongi is out of sight. You lean your body against the door the second you snap the lock shut. You touch your lips lightly, reliving those moments again even though they happened mere seconds ago. You’re buzzing with excitement like a schoolgirl, every feeling coursing through your body all at once.

You’re familiar with this. It’s the stage right before every love song you listen to suddenly reminds you of that one person.

You go through your regular evening routine with a pep in your step, thanks to a certain person tonight. You take off your carefully applied makeup and take a nice, hot shower. You think the heat would help melt away the high that you’re riding - like you’ve had too much coffee to drink and now your senses are beyond heightened - but it doesn’t. Once you’re fresh and comfortable in your PJs, you still feel that jittery feeling seeping through your pores, keeping you awake. There’s a message from Yoongi that tells you he has made it home safely.

It’s still early, and you’re far too restless to go to bed. You decided to brew yourself a mug of chamomile tea, even though you don’t even like chamomile and you can’t remember why you even have it, but they say that apparently chamomile is good for sleep. You decide to take the mug into the living room to sort through your mini mountain of mail that should’ve been dealt with days ago.

Sitting underneath that pile of junk mail and letters addressed to the previous tenant even though you’ve lived here for nearly two years, is a cream-colored card addressed to you. The material feels smooth under your fingertips, like velvet if that’s even possible. Inside, there are two names - one you recognize and another you don’t - typed out in a fancy calligraphy font and encircled by pretty flowers, all pinks and whites and romantic.

The saccharine sensation associated with the thought of Yoongi dissipates instantly. Instead, your mind blanks, only to buzz to life again momentarily with a newfound sinking feeling dragging you down.

You suddenly realize that Jungkook hasn’t crossed your mind once tonight. Not until now. That crestfallen look in his eyes from the other night appears in your mind again, clear as day.

You are, quite literally, holding someone’s declaration of love and yet, it’s not joy that you feel, having been asked to join them on their special day.

You never thought you would see Jungkook’s family again - even though you always adored his parents and you felt that they loved you too - let alone receive an invitation to his brother’s wedding.

remember when y'all said u wanted a wedding?? well u didn't say whose wedding 😌

701 notes · View notes

romancingdaffodils · 8 months

Text

So hold me down and never let me go.

Bassist!Remus Lupin x Reader

told you it was time for a new era :3

pure fluff !!! Remus is a tease and a little mean but what’s new. He’s a cutie so it’s fine.

pretty shit because i’m rusty with writing but it’s just a small one shot so it doesn’t matter. enjoy my drabble !

ps. al you asked for credit so here u are here’s ur credit bitch face @alegsy :3

“Cute skirt.” Rem complimented, leaning on the kitchen counter. You rolled your eyes in response, walking towards him. “Seriously, love, looks dead nice. Is it new?” he said, looking you up and down. He had done that a couple of times, however you decided not to comment on it. It was best not to feed the fire.

“It is new, got it the other day. With, uh, what’s your little wizard friend called. The one with funky hair.”

“Marlene? And it’s very rockstar girlfriend.”

“Yes, Marlene. She’s lovely. Also, you’re not a rockstar, Rem. You’re getting full of yourself.” you replied, sarcastically. As you giggled, he gave you a look of feigned offence.

“I’m the bassist in a rock band, dove, I am the definition of a rockstar.” he said, once again looking you up and down. You were struggling to resist the temptation of basking in his gaze. If you were religious, Remus Lupin would be the devil.

“You haven’t quite mastered the ‘star’ bit yet.” you joked, attempting to get your revenge. See, Remus always seemed to have the upper hand, when it came to you. He knew exactly what to do and what to say, when it came to you. So, it was a rare luxury to have something to hold over him.

“Ahaha. How many copies did our album sell?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Three?” you responded. Looking up at him innocently, it was taking a lot not to burst into a fit of laughter.

“Fuck off.” he stated, shaking his head. Even though he was faking annoyance at your comments, it didn’t take long for Remus to gravitate towards you. He moved away from the counter he was leaning on and towards the sink, where is mission began. Not paying attention, you had began work on making cups of tea for the two of you. You had only just finished filling the kettle when he decided this was the perfect opportunity to snake his arms around your waist and rest his head in the crook of your neck.

“Hiya, Rem.” you whispered, giggling quietly to yourself. You tried to continue with your rather mundane task but, you knew you’d succumb to his enticement eventually.

“Hiya, love. You’re ignoring me.” he mumbled into your neck. Feeling his warm breath, the hairs beneath his touch stood up on end. You were almost certain you would never get used to Remus acting like this.

“Am not! Let me finish what I’m doing for once, pleasee.“ you complained with frustration thick in your voice. All your efforts were futile -which you had previously predicted- as Remus dropped his hands to your hips and spun you round. Now you were face to face (what was as close as you could get to face to face) you couldn’t deny him anything. Remus was so very tall; it was impossible not to look up to him. His honey brown eyes were burning into your soul and the sensation was irresistible. Melting like putty in his touch, you were completely compliant to his every wish and desire. For the most part anyway, but if he wanted you to jump off of a bridge you’d probably have to think about it.

“There we go. C’mon you’ve been out all week, missed you.” he whined back. You found it a little funny how someone so desperate could have such a tough exterior, but decided now wasn’t the right time to comment on it.

“I’ve seen you every day, Rem, we live togeth-.”

“It’s not enough.” he cut you off, not maliciously. Even if it were, any malicious intent would be cancelled out by the sweetest action that followed. Your lips met. Soft, sweet and somewhat addictive. Far better than any ex, that was for sure. In fact, Remus was far better than anyone else you’d ever met. He moved in sync with you. One scarred hand gripped your hips and the other crept up to the side of your head, burying itself to your hair. Your own attached themselves to his sandy brown locks, tugging lightly at the strands. Feeling like your mind was about to explode, his kisses would always send your emotions into overdrive. You simply couldn’t contain yourself with him and that’s exactly what he wanted.

Breathe. You had to remind yourself to breathe as he pulled away. Resting his forehead against your own, Remus looked at you with what could only be described as love-sickness in his eyes. Cautiously, you peered up at him through your eyelashes, trying not to trigger another outburst; you just wanted to make your tea. However, you would never admit how much you enjoyed Remus when he was like this because after all nothing is fun without a game.

“Much better.” he said, simply. His eyes never left you and you had to admit you couldn’t look away either. Fuck. “Okay, you can go make your tea now.” he added as a sly smirk crept onto his face. Fuck.

“Remus! You’re such a prick- oi. Come back.” you whined, frowning at him as he walked away. In response all he did was shrug his shoulders.

Then, he said “Sorry, dove. Got rehearsals with my rock band see you later though. Love you.”. He grabbed his jacket from the hooks beside the door and gave you one final kiss goodbye. It was short and anything but sweet. It was horrifically mean. And just like that, he was gone.

You were left standing in your kitchen starstruck. Unable to think, do or see anything other than him, you found yourself rendered incapable. Somehow, his temptation always had this affect. You just had to pray he’d be in a good mood later, a less teasing mood perhaps.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders era #remus lupin x you #remus being remus #bassist!remus #rockstar!remus #help lol #fluffy

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ameliawarnerr · 10 months

Text

POV: MC is drunk at Aurora and she texts Jake.

One-shot (but with two parts. Two-shot? Maybe I'm drunk)

Part-1

Background story: When Jake could finally get free of the dark-web world, it was too late. MC told him that she'd moved on and it was best for both of them. But she confuses Jake again, texting him after she gets wasted. And Jake is confused and not at all happy about her recklessness.

—Jake—

I stare at the screen, eyebrows creased in confusion. My mind is debating if her phone got hacked or it's with the likes of Dan. But then I reread the message, using more of my intellect and pausing the emotions at war.

MC: IM AT AURORAA AND IF U DONT COMW AND GET ME I WILL SLEEP WITJ THE 1ST GUY I SEE!

MC: bringg moneyyy some bitcj stole mine

No, it's definitely her. There's no debate about that. I barely pay any attention to the second message. My mind is still stuck on the first one. It's really unsettling. Despite how I've been upset with her, hardly seen or talked to her the past few weeks, still I want to get there as fast as I can. I cannot bear the image of the otherwise scenario.

My emotions resume the war. I've never understood her entirely before but this is simply beyond my understanding. She went into heavy details explaining to me how she has gotten over me while I was away and how my barging into her life again isn't good for either of us. While I was on the run, making a new identity for myself, cutting ties with anyone who could pull me back into that long stretch of ruin I've been living in, I considered many outcomes. This is one of the more unlikely ones. Or maybe I didn't want to think about it so I didn't consider it fairly.

She was already having a hard time telling me all the reasons I didn't want to hear, so I left. Ever since then, I've stayed at Lilly's place and it's a relief that her friends usually hang out at Cleo’s or Jessica’s. I haven't seen her or talked to her since then but I couldn't help asking Lilly how MC was doing every once in a while. Lilly would always tell me that MC felt like a different person and that I should talk to her. I refused. I simply couldn't bring myself to.

I can't understand if she doesn't want me anymore then why am I the one she's texting when she's wasted at a bar. I guess I’d have to wait until she's sober. I feel a ting of hope and my mind calling me an idiot.

I stop my car in front of Aurora’s front door. Usually, people are entering and exiting at every hour but as the street gets darkened, no one is seen around. Of course, it's 2 am. Why would anyone be here at 2 am when only a month ago a girl was abducted and another was found dead? And obviously, that anyone has to be MC.

Sometimes her recklessness throws me over to the edge.

I rush inside. All lights are shut down, only two of them shine at the counter. One male waiter cleans up the leftovers on the tables while another walks to the kitchen, loosening the knot on his apron. At the counter, MC is seated on one of the high stools, her head resting on the counter while her hands move above her head as she's explaining or complaining about something to…well, to the bar owner. Phil Hawkins.

He's bent over to the counter, his arms set on the counter as he's nodding while grinning. His eyes fly to me as I near them. I notice that her phone is left unlocked on the counter with our chat opened so Phil isn't surprised to see me here. I have only met him once and let's say that didn't change my dislike for him.

“We’ve only met once. And it feels like I've known you for years.” He says, straightening.

I raise my eyebrow at him. “I don't return the sentiment.”

Then as I stride to the counter, beside MC, I understand what he meant.

MC is wasted, talking about me while being totally oblivious of my presence. “And I told him, Phil. I told him. You know what I said?” Her hands are moving vaguely, her voice is uneven, getting high randomly. It's sort of cute. “I said,” Her voice becomes a bit stable as she tries to deepen it. “I will know your identity soon.”

I can't believe she's with a… decent looking guy, somewhat and she's still talking about me. I don't know how to feel about that. But I guess this just reminds me of what we could've had, could've been.

“And you know what he told me then? I remember it as clear as the day as we speak.” She moves her hand hysterically. I bite back a laugh and I look at Phil doing the same.

Then, he says, “What? What did he say to you?”

I would not be a part of this if I didn't want to hear her complaining about me. It's surprisingly funny and adorable. I don't use words like ‘adorable’ to describe anything else. I think I can't anymore– she's set the bar too high.

She clears her throat, raising her head slightly, pointing a finger straight at the wall. “You can't. I am the hacker everyone's after. I'm unbeatable.” She pretends to be me, making her voice rough and deep but fails adorably. I couldn't help it anymore– I broke into a grin.

I decided to intervene. “I certainly didn't say anything of that sort.”

Her pointed finger freezes at my voice. She slowly turns her head towards me as I try not to smile. But as soon as my eyes meet her, there's an effortless smile on my mouth before I can even begin controlling it. She stares at me for a moment. Her hair is a little messy, eyes squinting at me. Then she brings her hands to her mouth. “Oh my god, Phil, I summoned him.”

I take a step forward. “Yes, you did.” I take another step forward, sliding into the stool next to her as I sweep her phone from the counter. I hold it up for her to see. “By texting me. With an awful amount of typos.”

She snatches her phone from my head. “That wasn't me. It might be the owner of the bar– Phil.” She blames as if she doesn't see him standing two feet away from the counter. “But anyways.” She puts her phone on the counter. “You look too hot to be sent back now.” She places a hand on my chest.

Phil coughs. “Alright. That's my cue to leave.”

MC’s gaze follows his figure as he leaves. Then, she leans towards me and whispers, “You know, although it was true but I just said that so he'd leave.”

I lean forward and whisper back, “Excellent plan. Next time, include me as well.”

She nods several times. “For sure.”

“Are you ready to leave?” I ask her.

“Did you bring the money?” She questions.

“Depends. How much do you need?” I place my elbow on the counter, supporting my head as I look at her panicking.

“Well, w-well. It's about 300$.” She scratches her neck. And this time I am the one panicking. Not because of the money, of course, but because—

“You drank 300$ worth of alcohol?”

She blinks. “No. I broke three bottles. Phil told me he'd go easy on me so I have to pay for just two of them.” She shows two fingers, smiling.

I try to look stoic. I look at her finger with the same grim expression and she lowers them awkwardly. I straighten, removing my elbow from the counter. I clear my throat, lowering my head, trying not to show her my smile.

I return my gaze to her. She asks, hopefully, “So do you have 300$?”

I do. But I put my lips into a thin line, shaking my head as she frowns. “I don't have the money. But you know what? I have nothing to worry about since you're one who needs to pay.” I return my elbow on the counter. “All I'm saying is that it's not my problem.”

Her mouth slightly opens and closes. She looks around, fidgeting a little. Then, she looks back at me. “So, you are going to leave?” Her voice is small and I almost give in.

I shrug. “I can leave and come back with the money.” I offer and notice the immediate refusal on her face. “Do you want me to come back with the money?”

She looks down, at her hands. “Don’t do that.”

It takes me a moment to recover from the vulnerability in her voice. I realise as cute as she looks right now, but I still don't want her to be in his state when someone trusted isn't around her, someone who can protect her. That's when I promise to lecture her about this once she's sober. I don't care if we haven't spoken for weeks or where we stand right now.

But right now, I'm calm, knowing she texted me and that I am here with her.

“Why?” I ask. “Weren’t you planning to sleep with the first guy you see here? Once I'm gone, you could do that.” I do my best not to process my own words.

She's still looking at her hands. “No, I only said that so that you'll come and get me. But it's fine if you don't want to pay for me. You can leave—”

The last word stretches as I pull her stool closer to mine. Her legs stumble together between mine. Her head turns upwards as her eyes dart to different parts of my face.

“You think I'm going to leave you here? I am here to get you and I would've come even if you hadn't sent me that threat of a message. Even if you had sent me a made-up word or merely just one letter or just my name, I would've come for you.” I affirm here, speaking very softly but ensuring my words hold the right heaviness for her to believe.

“Even if you didn't know where I was?” She asks.

“Even if I didn't know where you were. I'd find you.” I answer.

“Even if I make you pay a huge debt and ignore you the next day?”

“I’d be hurt if you ignored me. I don't care about the money.”

“Even if I hurt you?”

I hesitate. “Doesn’t matter. I'll get over it.”

“And even if I make terrible jokes?”

“Especially when you make jokes. Terrible or not.”

She eases into a smile. I raise both my hands, fixing her hair with a smile. At last, I rested them on her shoulder. “Let’s go?”

She nods. I nod back. “Just so you know, I’m not saying anything right now because you're too drunk to remember but once you get sober, I'm giving you a lecture about this stupid thing you did.” I can't help but to think what if I didn't see the message, or she couldn't find her phone. I don't particularly like Phil after tonight but what if he wasn't here or she had gone to some other place.

“Good luck to her.” She says. And I laugh out loud, grabbing her phone and shoving it in my pocket. I put the money on the counter and turn to her. “Are you cold?” I ask her as I stand.

“Cold? No. I'm extremely hot and a warm person. You were cold when we first talked.” She points a finger at me, accusingly as she tries to stand.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me. If it makes you feel any better, I don't know who that person was anymore.” I put a hand around her waist as she leans into me. We walk towards the exit.

“Really?” She asks, looking at me.

“Really. He was so reserved and guarded.” I say, matching her accusing tone.

“I know, right? He would ask me about all my findings on the case and wouldn't tell me anything he'd do all day.” She threw her hand, expressing her annoyance.

I grin. “Really? He did that to you? That's so unfair. If I were you, I would never work with him.” We reach the door. I hold her with one hand as I opened the door.

“Well, I wouldn't do that.” She says, unsure.

“Why not?” I ask as we walk towards my car. It's been a long time since I've talked to her. I can't stop myself. I don't want to waste any second being silent. Turns out, I really don't know who I was before I met her.

“Well, he would say ‘good job, MC’. I liked that.” She says, mimicking me.

We reach the door to the passengers' seat. I hold it open for her as she stumbles onto the seat. She wriggles a little until she's comfortable. “Finally.” She eases back into the seat. Then, she looks at me. “I knew texting you was the right thing to do.”

“Good job, MC.”

She stares, processes, then she blushes. I close the door, smiling in an idiotic manner. When I enter the car, she removes her shoes. She sits comfortably putting her leg on the seat, looking at me, expectantly.

“You want something from me?”

“Say that again.”

—To be continued—

Part 2

#jake duskwood #duskwood #writing #duskwood fandom #duskwood fanfic #duskwood fanfiction #jake_duskwood #jake x mc #duskwood jake x mc #dan duskwood #jessy_duskwood #phil duskwood #duskwood phil #mc x jake #jake x reader #jake

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gffa · 2 years

Video

Once again, I am in absolute tears over the prequels and they are so much funnier than anyone gives them credit for because LOOK AT THIS SCENE It’s after Anakin has been a real brat to Obi-Wan in front of Padme because he’s trying to impress her, despite that Obi-Wan also tried to cheer him up about how she didn’t seem to notice him. It’s after their speeder chase with Zam where Anakin goes from patiently asking her about her target to SNARLING SCREAM RAGE in .5 seconds because she’s not giving him the answers he wants about Padme. So, this scene is in the context of how Obi-Wan has had more than enough of Anakin being obsessive about Padme and now Anakin is being sent on this mission before Obi-Wan thinks he’s ready and when you look at it through that lens IT IS THE FUNNIEST THING I HAVE SEEN SINCE THE LAST SCENE IN THIS MOVIE. LOOK AT ALL THAT SPACE IN THE TRANSPORT. THERE IS ZERO REASON FOR OBI-WAN AND ANAKIN TO BE CRAMMED ONTO A SINGLE SEAT. WHAT KILLS ME THOUGH IS OBI-WAN AS SOON AS PADME STANDS UP TO WALK BY NOT ONLY IS HE ALREADY CRAMMED INTO ANAKIN’S PERSONAL SPACE BUT HE LEEEEEEEEANS OVER TO LOOK OUT THE WINDOW BLOCKING ANAKIN’S VIEW OF PADME AS SHE WALKS BY AND THERE IS NOTHING OUTSIDE THAT WINDOW THAT IS OF INTEREST OBI-WAN IS LOOKING AT ABSOLUTELY NOTHING JUST TO BLOCK ANAKIN’S VIEW SO HE DOESN’T IMMEDIATELY START STARING AT PADME AGAIN AND YOU KNOW Y O U K N O W THAT’S WHY THEY’RE CRAMMED TOGETHER IN A SINGLE SEAT BECAUSE OBI-WAN TOOK ONE LOOK AT THAT HOT MESS OF A SITUATION AND WAS LIKE OH I AM NOT DEALING WITH THAT HEADACHE TODAY SO HE PARKS ANAKIN IN A FRONT SEAT AND SITS DOWN NEXT TO HIM FOR THE WHOLE TRAM RIDE AND AS SOON AS PAMDE IS IN ANAKIN’S VIEW, OBI-WAN LEANS OVER TO LOOK AT ABSOLUTELY NOTHING SO ANAKIN CAN’T GET UP HE DOESN’T GET UP UNTIL PADME’S WELL PAST AND TALKING TO DORME AND THEY ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO MOVE SO WHAT HAPPENS? ANAKIN IMMEDIATELY STARTS STARING AT PADME AND SMILING THAT SMILE WHILE PADME AND DORME HAVE AN EMOTIONAL CONVERSATION AND ANAKIN IS LITERALLY TURNING TO GO OVER TO THEM WHEN OBI-WAN PRACTICALLY HAS TO SNAP HIS FINGERS IN ANAKIN’S FACE TO GET HIM TO FOCUS AND PAY ATTENTION OVER HERE AND I AM WEEPING ABOUT THIS BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT OBI-WAN HAS TO DEAL WITH, THIS IS WHAT OBI-WAN IS TRYING TO TRAIN INTO A JEDI, THIS IS WHY OBI-WAN HAS TO CORNER ANAKIN ON THE TRAM SO THEY CAN GET FIVE MINUTES OF ANAKIN NOT BEING A DRAMATIC MOONING TEENAGERS. THIS IS WHY OBI-WAN IS A SAINT TO PUT UP WITH ANAKIN SKYWALKER’S 19 YEAR OLD IDIOCY.

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #anidala #video #i make myself laugh and that's all that's important

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sturniololoco · 4 months

Text

ADHD

Note: NO Y/N This is just a cute little fluff moment between the Sturniolo brothers and I am not sexualizing this in any way. they are freaking brothers enjoy!

Warnings: overstimulation, panic attack, etc.

Summary: Chris has ADHD and this goes downhill, but his brothers are there to help him.

Nick's POV

My brother Chris has always been very affectionate. He always loves to be around people and today was no different.

We woke up early, Chris slept in my bed last night, and went downstairs. We watched a show and he sat quietly holding my hand for about half the movie, and then he started to get fidgety. Chris started to play with my fingers and move his feet around, not even paying attention to the show.

"Chris, are you all done watching TV?" I asked him, grabbing his hands to get his attention focused on me. He looked at me, only just realizing that he had not been paying attention.

He looked down embarrassed.

"Hey, that's ok. Do you wanna go help me make some breakfast?" I asked him, rubbing my thumb over his hand, back and forth.

It took Chris around 30 minutes to complete his breakfast. Mainly because he would explain the different shapes of his toast after he took a single bite. Me and Matt, who woke up to the smell of breakfast, just laughed along with him, letting him take his time.

After breakfast, I did the dishes while Chris lay on the couch, snugged up close to Matt with a blanket, and scrolled on his phone.

So like I said before, my brother is very affectionate, loving, and calm even with his ADHD disorder.

only tonight was different. we went out to dinner and Chris did not like it at all.

Chris's POV

The restaurant was loud. too loud. Many adults were sipping at their drinks, yelling and cackling over each other. There were also children, screaming at their parents who were not paying attention.

Our waiter showed us to our table and brought us our menus. He also brought one of those kiddie menus that come with the three-pack of crayons. The menus with puzzles, coloring, and tic-tac-toe boards.

Trying to get my mind off the noise, I began to color the paper using the cheap crayons from the packaging.

Then all of a sudden, I felt it.

The crayon felt gross, almost sticky, and grainy in my hand. My clothes felt too close to my body, scratching me. suffocating me. And the noise. the horrible, torturing noise, that just kept getting louder and louder, surrounding me. drowning me.

My breathing became shallow, and I was suddenly drenched in a cold sweat. My mind started racing, not being able to process all of these new things at once.

Sensing my unease, Nick grabbed my clammy hand under the table, giving me a look of worry.

I instantly shoved his hand away, wiping my own on my pants, hating the feeling of the rough fabric of my jeans.

Get out. I have to get out.

"Hey Chris, what are you gonna get to eat bud?" Matt asked, not noticing my current state of hyperventilation.

"I u-um...u-hhh..." I studdered out, my brain not even working enough to form words.

Then I Bolted.

Matt's POV

I asked Chris what he wanted to eat, and he ran. Snatching up my keys from off the table on his way out.

"What the fuck-" I start to say, but Nick was quickly rising from the table to go find Chris, and I was right behind him.

We checked the bathrooms, and corner of the restaurant, just to make sure he actually went to the car, and he was nowhere to be seen. So we made our way to the parking lot, sprinting out of the place and down the road.

Chris's POV

I ran, ran, to the car, and somehow managed to get it unlocked. I tried to climb into the front seat, but the cold, sticky leathery seats were too much. I popped the trunk, climbed in, then closed me in. I was squatting so I didn't have to touch the car carpet floor.

my hands were clawing at my head, my eyes, my ears. Trying anything to get this horrible feeling to go away.

I ended up banging my head against the car walls.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Again! Again! Again!

Go. A. Way!

Then, all of a sudden, the trunk was being opened.

Nick's POV

Matt and I reached the car, making a horrible banging noise from the inside. We quickly ruled out that Chris was in the trunk, and opened the door.

Matt's immediate reaction is to hold his brother. soothe him. But Chris falls back onto his back and kicks at Matt, hands clawing at his face.

"NO!" He lets out in a sharp panicked breath. Tears were streaming down his face, and his eyes were red, puffy, and swollen.

Then I get an idea.

"Matt, go get the water bottle from the front seat and pour it on his hands while I grab his face," I order, beginning to panic myself. Matt is quick to complete his task.

The cold water on Chris's hands causes him to cringe and go still allowing me to hold both sides of his face and turn it to look at mine. He falters for a moment, his breathing uneven and harp.

"Shh, you alright. It's me, it's Nicky, okay? It's okay, your safe I promise." I whisper in his ear. With trembling hands, he reaches up and holds mine. Shaking.

"Chris, can I hold you?" I ask, not wanting to overstimulate even more after we just got him to calm down.

He looks into my eyes and studies me for a moment, then timidly nods his head. I slowly climb next to him in the back of the car, and he lays his head on my shoulder, hiding his red and tear-stained face in the crook of my neck. While he gets his breathing back to normal, I gently play with his hair, while Matt climbs in and rubs small circles around his back.

"You ready to go home?" I ask him once his breathing is somewhat back to normal.

Chris gives me a small nod, and Matt goes and starts the car. I help Chris in the backseat with me, where he almost immediately falls asleep from exhaustion.

when we get home, we don't even bother going up the stairs. We walk straight into Chris's room and lay him down. matt and I change quickly into a hoodie and lay on either side of our little brother, sleeping with him, in case he ever needs us.

We will always be there.

Note: I hope y'all liked it. I can do more of these stories w/o y/n if y'all like them, but I'm still down for whatever.

I also have the Sturniolo little sis fic coming tomorrow!

xoxo

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo imagine #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

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kalinysu · 10 months

Note

so; imagine lower moon reader taking a big interest in gyutaros physique and ever since they got the chance/luck to watch him at his work, lower moon reader draws his body structure, different poses/posture and movement when he battles/rests!

one day they didnt pay enough attention/mind to notice him sneaking up on them since they we're to drowned in their doodles.. and he snatches it 'nd reader gets embarrassed and tries to clarify since they never really had interaction

𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐌𝐄? — Gyutaro x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: None.

𝐍𝗼𝐭𝐞𝐬: Cute idea, and so sorry i took so long! I’ve been pretty busy and may not be able to write again as soon as i’d like to.

You had always been an artist, even in your human years. Now up until you became a lower moon. You stayed dedicated to your job as a 12 kizuki of course, but you couldn’t help but draw everytime you got the chance. Especially now that you’ve discovered the existence of upper six. At first, you didn’t know that they were two demons. You thought there was only one, the girl. But soon after you came to find out she had a brother, Gyutaro.

And sooner or later, you took an interest in his physique, and just the way he looked. You were quick to make sketches of his battle stances and even just the way he sits. You had never seen anyone like him, of course. So naturally you were very curious about him. You admired his build, and the markings on his face. Even his hair, you took a special interest in. One day, you were sitting alone in the infinity castle, scribbling away in your notebook.

You didn’t speak much to the other demons unless absolutely necessary, so nobody really approached you. You figured you were safe to draw the demon once again since you supposed nobody would come near you.

You shifted to a more comfortable position to sit in, until you noticed a shadow over you. You had been so focused on drawing you didn’t even realize. You hesitated for a moment, before looking up, only to be met face to face with the very man who was filling up all the pages in your sketchbook. Your eyes widened, and before you could react your journal was gone, and Gyutaro was faced away from you, looking through it. “—W-wait, give that back!” You said, jumping to your feet to try and retrieve it. He simply shoved you away, his face buried in the book.

You couldn’t tell how he’d react, but you were afraid he might not appreciate you drawing him. “Is this me?” He asked with an amused chuckle, his palm pressed against your forehead to keep you from getting close to the book. You froze, no longer trying to get it back. It was far too late. “U-uh.. Y-yes but—“ You stutter, clearing your throat a bit. “I-I just thought you looked cool and.. thought I would draw you..” You said, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

He didn’t say anything, continuing to flip through the pages. Honestly, he was impressed. Nobody had ever drawn him before, and on top of that you thought he was cool? That’s something he’s never heard in his life. “Can I have these?” He asked, looking down at you. You stared in shock. Have them? He wasn’t mad? “U-uh—Of course!” You said, feeling a little more confident. He handed you the book, not wanting to rip any of the drawing with taking them out. You carefully took a few pages out and handed them to him. “How come your only drawing me? Am I that weird looking?” He asked, using his free hand to scratch at his skin.

“N-no!! Not at all! It’s just.. Your.. Really, really cool..” You mumbled. He was shocked, really. He leaned down to look at your face, tilting his head. “You mean that..?” He asked. You nodded, looking away from him. Your cheeks flushed pink from the sudden closeness. “That’s.. Intriguing.” He said with a small grin, followed by a chuckle.

“Do you think you can draw me more?” He asked. You looked back at him, feeling your heart skip a beat. “M-more?” He nodded. “Yeah, can you do that?” He questioned. “Y-yeah! I can!” You said, moving back to where you were sitting before on top of a cushioned platform. He followed, sitting slightly behind you. You were a little nervous, having the person you were drawing for so long watching you. You picked up your pen and began to draw, eventually, you felt his head resting on your shoulder.

He still couldn’t believe that someone like you would want to draw someone like him, and actually took an interest him. He was always labeled as ugly so naturally he didn’t understand. “Why me?” He suddenly asked, causing you to look at him from the corner of your eye, turning your head a little. You smiled. “Why not?” You said. “Why would you want to draw someone as displeasing as me?” He asked once more, genuinely curious. “I don’t think your displeasing at all.”

“Man, you’re a weird one.” He said with a chuckle, before focusing back onto your drawing.

#demon slayer #kny #gyutaro #gyutaro fluff #gyutaro x reader

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thegreatestsandwich · 1 year

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First of all, I love your Namor fics, all of them are perfect ❣️

I hope you would never stop writing about him ✨

Second point, I have this idea running through my mind, they're already parents but I wanted to know how Namor reacts at the pregnancy anounce. I can imagine reader really nervous to tell him and asking Namora for advice, and she was like "Just tell him my Queen. -Kukulcan, I'm pregnant-" and then he appears and Namora blushes because she screw up the surprise 🤣

This life’s sweeter than fiction (Namor x f!reader, Namora x Platonic!reader)

Pairing: Namor x F!reader, Namora x Platonic!reader

Word count: 500 words

Summary: Namora was the first one you told you were pregnant. She was the first one to tell your husband. (BY ACCIDENT, OKEY?)

Warning: Nothing!

A/N: Still in love with Namora, sue me

You were currently munching on some pieces of fruit as you watch Namora pace in front of you, her hands on her face as she once again tried to coarce you to tell Namor, your husband, that you were pregnant at the moment. You tried your hardest to not smile or laugh, her impatience on trying to come up with a well enough and fool-proof plan was the challenge.

“Bey u ch'a'abil.” Easy as that. Namora finished, putting her hands on her hips. She watched you unamused as you put another piece of fruit on your mouth. “In reina, k'a'abet a ya'al.” My queen, you must tell him.

“Kin wa'alik ti...Ba'ale' ma' bejla'e', xaan sáamal.” I’ll tell him, but not now, maybe tomorrow. You cheekily smiled, putting another piece of fruit on your mouth. “Ku ts'o'okole', ts'o'ok yaax yaantal estresando u yéetel uláak' ba'alo'ob, u ts'o'ok ba'ax taak in meentik estresar tu láayli' asab.” Besides, he's been stressing with other things, the last thing I want to do is stress him even more.

Namora groaned, closing her eyes. “Chéen dile, K’uk’ulkan táan in embarazada.” Just tell him, I’m pregnant.

Your eyes widnened when you saw him just behind her, watching you curiosly. “Namora…” You tried to shooshed her but she wasn’t paying attention.

“U séen máan Jayp'éel semanas, k'a'abet a ya'al.” It’s been now a few weeks, you must tell him.

“Namora…” You tried again, Namor now finally standing behind her, crossing his arms and raising his brow in amusement. “Namora, mak a chi'.” Shut up

“Buka'aj asab séeba'an u a'alik, ma'alob yaan utia'al tuláakal le u láak'obo'.” The faster you tell him, the better it is for everyone else.

You sighed, placing your hands on your face, grunting behind them, Namora watched you with confusion. You dropped them on your lap before placing a streinght smile on your face. “Sorpresa.” You pouted.

“Ba'ax?” Namora questioned you.

Namor cleared his throat behind her and Namora slowly turned around, not meeting his eyes. “Cha' k.” Leave us. She didn’t hesitated and bolted out quickly, diving into the water. “Something you want to tell me?”

You shrugged, focusing on the plate of fruit on your lap. “Utsil fruta?” Good fruit?

“In yakunaj, English.” He stood in between your legs, taking away your plate of fruit. “Try again.”

You groaned. “You look more handsome today?”

“Uh-uh. Again.” He kneeled, taking your hands and kissing them. “Something Namora was saying.”

“Ah.” You smiled cheekily. “You have beautiful butt.”

Namor smiled, shaking his head. “I know that. Try again.”

“You are not going to let me get away with it?” He pulled back and stared at your eyes. You sighed. “Namora already spoil the surprise, I don’t see why should I tell you again.” You pouted.

“Try again.” He repeated.

“Fine.” You groaned again. “I am pregnant. Happy?”

He kissed you deeply. “Yes, even though I would had prefer if you told me days ago.”

You stared at him. “You knew?!”

#namor fic #namor x reader #namor fluff #namor fanfiction #namor blurb #namor x fem!reader #namor x y/n #namor x you #namora x fem!reader #namora x you #namora x reader #namora imagine #black panther wakanda forever #black panther imagine #black panther: wakanda forever #black panther

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