#sing this secret spell! it’s just for you!

[selineram3421]

*is now craving sushi* Dang. 🍣

Other Worldly

Part 2

Part 1

Alastor X Shy Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ selectively mute reader, food mentions-seaweed, song lyrics Drift Away-Trillian ⚠

Alastor took the mer up to their hotel room, the halls empty as he made another water pun, which earned him a fin slap to the face.

"I could drop you, you know?", he said but continued to carry them towards the bathtub.

Setting them down gently, he made sure to get a towel and put it somewhere within reach for them to take when their legs returned.

"There you are dear!", he said before standing up straight. "I'll leave you here now. Don't try to get up too soon, you'll just flop right over!", he laughed and turned to leave.

"Wait.", they spoke softly.

Like an exciting rush, he felt chills run down his back as his body followed the command.

"Don't tell anyone about what you saw..", they paused. "Or what you heard from me. Please."

As soon as they were finished, the 'spell' had broken and he was able to move again. Glancing over his shoulder, the Radio Demon snapped his fingers and his coat was clear of the water spots they had left on him.

"Very well.", he said and began closing the bathroom door. "This will stay our little secret~", he placed a finger over his lips before shutting the door.

He stood there for a moment, hearing the mer let out a sigh before the water turned on.

Satisfied with his findings, the deer demon left their hotel room, making sure to lock the door before closing it.

As he made his way to his radio tower, he thought of ways to get the aquatic demon to sing around him.

I should ease their worries somehow.. He thought. I wonder if there is a way to lure a siren.

.

You hated the transition of your legs returning.

Every time, you felt like your tail was being torn apart. Your scales felt like needles piercing into you when they sunk back into your skin. The webbing on your fingers was the only thing that didn't hurt much, but your hands would cramp a few times the day after.

This is annoying. You thought as you dried yourself completely after taking a bath.

Next was the hard part.

Grabbing the edge of the tub, you slowly stood up. Your feet feeling like you walked many miles without rest, aching as you stepped onto the tile floor.

It hurt.

Step by step, it felt like you were walking on glass, thorns, or hot coal as you made your way into your room to get dressed.

As soon as you could, you dropped onto your bed with a whine, staying there for a moment before crawling under the covers. After turning off the lamp on the nightstand, you hoped that the red dressed demon wouldn't say anything of what he saw.

Yes, you told him a command but the other half was a plea.

Let's not worry about it. He did say it would be our secret. You thought before going to sleep.

The next day was a little odd.

After getting breakfast, the smiling demon began talking to you like you were old friends.

It confused you.

What did he have to gain from talking to a quiet person? There was nothing you could say without hypnotizing him.

.

It was simple.

All he had to do was get them used to him and they'd be comfortable enough to let their guard down.

What better way to do it other than talking?

Food.

Throughout a few weeks, the Radio Demon experimented with all kinds of food. Taking notice of their expressions and the amount of food that they left on their plate. Later, he noticed that they enjoyed snacking on seaweed.

He wasn't sure where they had got it from, but it was something that he made sure was kept stocked in the kitchen and at the bar.

"The fuck? Why seaweed?", Husker grumbled.

"One of our guests enjoys it and the Princess ordered a surplus of the snack.", Alastor said as he watched the cat demon put the box under the bar counter.

Of course, it didn't really work out like he wanted. They were still quiet, still just out of reach, wary of him and his every action.

So he tried a different tactic.

Continuing to talk to them in open spaces but once they left, he hid in the shadows and observed them.

And then it happened.

It was exactly what he was waiting for.

Though he was hiding within the shadows of a dark theater room, he still was able to catch them, to listen to them sing.

Dark brown wood and red velvet from the room had made the area darker than it really was, but they still managed to find a ledge to sit on. They started off with soft hums before a real note came out from their lips.

"Here in the garden

Let's play a game

I'll show you how it's done

Here in the garden

Stand very still

This will be so much fun"

Like before, he felt the pull in his chest, the daze their voice submerged his mind into.

"And then she smiled

That's what I'm after

A smile in her eyes

The sound of her laughter

Happy to listen

Happy to play

Happily watching her drift away"

His shadows held him back from crawling out of the darkness. Something he was quite grateful for as he didn't want to disturb their singing.

"You keep on turning pages, for people who don't care

People who don't care about you

And still it takes you ages, to see that no one's there

See that no one's there

See that no one's there

Everyone's gone on with out you.."

Such a peculiar thing. To feel what they felt through their song, waves of sadness brushing against his mind.

"And aren't I the fool to have

Happily listened

Happy to stay

Happy to watch her drift

Drift

Drift...away."

They finished their song and sighed, wearing a frown.

Something Alastor couldn't just stand by for.

"You have such a lovely voice.", the deer demon spoke up.

They let out a noise of surprise and stood quickly , looking around the room like a frightened animal.

"It's a shame you hide it.", he continued.

He could hear how quick their breathing became as they backed away towards the nearest exit. Before the mer could touch the door, the Radio Demon came out of the shadows behind them and took their wrist.

They gasped and froze, not daring to look at him as he held them close.

Now is his grasp, he hummed in content and put a finger under their chin, lifting it up so they could look him in the eye.

His smile grew wider once they made eye contact.

"Let's make a deal~"

I did not have sushi but I did get to eat seaweed.

~Seline, the person.

Part 3

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @preciousbabypeter @poppingaround @bishiglomper @darifes @random-3455 @+?

ML I Alastor🎙 | ChL OW🦀

#shy reader #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #x reader #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #gn reader #alastor x you #mer reader #mermaid reader #merman reader #siren reader #siren #mermaid #merman #merfolk #around there #selectively mute #selectively mute reader #song lyrics #Song: Drift Away from Steven Universe #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin fanfic

[undercoverpena]

in the locker room

frankie morales x f!reader | frankie masterlist

summary: when you join him for benny's fight, frankie appears stressed. you have an idea to de-stress him.

warnings: TF canon compliant. explicit smut/oral m! receiving. my spellings (written on phone) wordcount: 1.6k

an: dedicated to @rhoorl who I wound up yesterday with this. babe, ily and our thot chats.

Waiting feels like a whispered question in a room of time.

Phone in your palm, glancing as you watch the text change from received to read—smiling, locking it as your grin is caught in the reflection of the screen, illuminated, proof that once again he does this to you. Has this effect on you—makes you a little reckless.

Your nose catches another whiff of the slightly off citrus disinfectant. The ones doing its best to smother over the stench of old sweat and socks. It lingers, attempts to embed itself in your clothes, lets you walk away with the reminder you were here.

A part of you hopes to walk away with something a little more than a reminder. A memory, maybe. Tapping the back of your phone against your palm, nervousness begins to ebb over the adrenaline from sending the message.

Waiting. Waiting.

Waiting—

BANG. 

Leaning against the locker, metal sinking into your bones past clothing and skin, you pocket your phone. Listening to it, the door shutting behind him, his gait in those boots—heels clicking as he rounds the lockers and spots you.

Frankie drinks you in. Does so like a man starved, parched—as though he wasn’t seated beside you moments ago before you excused yourself. Before you made a beeline for a different door that wasn’t the ladies' bathroom.

He's looked at you like he's wanted to devour you since the night you met, and all the nights that have been since. Even if he has, plenty and plenty of times. The look doesn't waver, it doesn't lessen.

Now, it's just embroiled in love, affection, care.

“You alright?”

Nodding, he comes closer—more lines deepening around his brows, eyes; shoulders almost hanging like earrings they’re so high up.

“Querida, what are…”

As soon as you can, you pull him close by his jacket. Brown, worn—cuffs rolled up and suede greet the pads of your fingers as he moves close to you with ease.

Still, Frankie frowns.

Still, he’s weighed down by something, irked by it. Brain totting things off that he won’t share or spill—just offers hollow smiles and barely-there glances.

“You look stressed, baby.”

His jaw ticks, just when your palm cups his cheek—thumb brushing over the patch. The little heart you trace when you can, that your thumb finds when you’re kissing him, when he’s so canting his hips and making you sing.

But, you suspect he’s still not caught on. Not grasped why you’ve sent him a mayday message to meet you in an old, smelling locker room. 

“Baby,” you whisper, more sweetly—a slice of sultry to it. Like a cocktail you hope he’ll drown himself in.

Chewing his tongue as he averts his eyes, storing secrets and hiding terrible truths from you. Things you’ll pull from him in time, retrieve. Probably wish you hadn’t, too.

But it’s not why he’s here—not why you want him here.

You don’t want to talk, to find out.

“Wanna make you not stressed.” 

Swallowing, you see it shift and feel him freeze. His eyes slide back over you, almost snapping to you as his hands rest on your hips.

“Here?”

Smirking, you tilt your head. Offering nothing, saying nothing.

It’s then you feel Frankie’s hands. Those large, capable and fucking perfect hands sliding around your waist, pushing you flush with the locker and his frame. Little to no space between you. Soft stomach against yours, your thumbs fingering at the suede of his jacket as you stare into his eyes. 

“Want you in my mouth, Morales.” 

“Jesus, fuck.” 

Hands sliding down over the curve of his stomach, eyes not wavering, never leaving, your palm runs over the growing bulge in his jeans as you tell him. As you describe to him how bad you want him, how it’s all you thought about—that having him in your mouth would make your night, your day.

“—so, can I, Morales? Can I suck you off in here?”

“Yeah, baby. Fuck. ‘Course you can.”

The thank you comes out on its own, escapes in a whisper as his head tilts around yours to glance at the door—the sound of cheers echoing down the corridor, leading here, cutting through silence and held breaths. 

It’s with ease his belt undoes, clanging and clattering; his jeans open next, zip grating against teeth as you slide it down, pulling the fabric down next—just enough to free his straining cock.

“We gotta be quiet, baby.” 

And he snorts, offering a roll of his eyes. Hand taking yours as he helps you descend to your knees—the floor hard, cold as it crawls in past your jeans. But, head level with him, your mouth waters at the sight of him. All of a sudden desperate to feel the weight of him on your tongue, to feel him kiss the back of your throat and coat the back of your teeth in his pleasure.

It’s teasing the way you wrap your fingers around him, lightly pumping, making him groan somewhere deep inside of his chest—a grumble in Spanish, one that makes the corners of your mouth lift as you clear your throat.

“You’ve got such a nice cock, Morales,” you whisper, leaning forward, pressing a kiss to the tip—salty tang lingers on your lips when you kneel back. Watching as his hips buck, cock twitching in your hand. 

“You want to come in my mouth?”

It’s a murmur, an array of letters merged together to say please as you slide the tip of his cock inside your mouth, your smirking lips closing around it. Hearing it, the hiss from his teeth; but, you pull from him. 

Hearing it—the tortured sound that feels like a reward. But the prize is the way he looks a mess already. His lips were already parted, nostrils already slightly flared. That line between his brows gone, something you’re more pleased about than the sounds.

It’s why you lick a stripe up the base, smile at the pained fuck he lets escape. Taking him back into your mouth, fully, no games. Feeling his hand on the back of your head, before his grip tightens as you take more of him, feel him deeper—tears pricking at your eyes as spit begins to soak your chin at your enthusiasm.

Flicking your gaze up, you find his hidden under the shadow of his hat, the angle different—but you know his forehead is smooth. The furrows of whatever had caused them to melt away on your tongue as you taste what you crave. All salty tang and stress, it seeps into your throat as your head bobs and cheeks hollow.

Because it’s a reward to do this for him. To do this to him.

To have him like this, relaxed and yet tense. 

“Fuck, y’so good for me.”

The crowd masks over the sinful sounds of your mouth working him. You only lift off to catch your breath, letting the tip trace your swollen lips as you stare up at him, finding him transfixed, unable to see anything but you.

Fingers swipe over your chin, cleaning the spit from it, showing it you glistening on his fingers. “Don’t make a mess.”

The command—you’re sure has ruined your underwear. The same fabric that would provide so much relief if you could angle yourself to gain some friction.

Moaning, you clutch the base of him, mouth close to taking him as you breathe, “I love your cock, Frankie.”

Angling his head in a ‘yeah?’, his words are stolen as you slide him down your throat. Knees shuffling closer, you nudge them against the tips of his cowboy boots, hands around the back of his jeans for leverage. You feel it, the familiar fabric you’ve got in your palm—the one you’ve had chafing on your thighs when you’ve been bare and wanting; the one which you’ve picked up and washed with your clothes.

And it’s that familiarity that makes you moan, makes you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, as you hear him curse in a deeper, more gravel-filled voice.

You love him, love this—love this thing between the two of you that you’ve never had with anyone else. It's like an inferno, consuming, not yielding even as time ticks on between you. There's only trust, understanding—a hard honesty, but the two of you work to keep there every single time.

Then, there's the fact that you know from the sounds he’s making he’s getting close. It makes your skin warm, pussy flutter; it makes you tempted to slot his boot between your thighs and ride him. Especially as you notice the sweat shining on his forehead, it twinkling under the shitty fluorescent lights when he rests his head against the metal behind him.

Fuck, it spurs you on. 

That and the taste of him reaching his pinnacle—how it’s stronger, tangier; his moans louder and less reserved. 

“Fuckfuckyesqueridafuck—“

The expletives flow freely, not held back or restrained. They practically echo, becoming a song that only your ears get to hear as his hand tightens and you watch his other fist clenched at his side.

Then you feel him at the back of your throat—him filling your mouth. Breaths ragged, pulled from him as you slowly continued to bob, not wanting to waste a drop, to not have everything you could.

You don’t consider moving until he loosens his hold on the back of your head, until his eyes unclench, and you’re washed in soft brown. 

He slips himself free from your lips as you swallow, his palm cupping your chin and jaw as he tilts you to look at him. 

“You alright?”

Nodding, you trace your thumb over your lip. “You feel better?”

He hums, for a moment looking all at peace as his hand aids you to your feet. You believe him, believe it—the hum. Looking away, for less than a second, allowing him to stuff his softened cock into the confines of his clothes as he redresses.

Then you see it.

The shadow in his eyes, the thing that had been there when you’d made it just for the last round of Benny’s fight. When you’d kissed his cheek and he’d gripped your hand and said he’d missed you—even if he'd seen you this morning.

Breath shaky, you fold your arms loosely. “You need to talk to me when we get home, don’t you?”

Not saying anything, not needing to, he pulls you close, unravels your arms and kisses your forehead. 

“I love you, querida.”

“Lo sé, Morales.”

Because you do.

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader smut #francisco morales smut #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[moremousewrites]

Disarm

Request link

Pairing: Astarion/Tav (GN)

Prompt: Astarion and Tav have a secret relationship and are discovered

Tags: suggestive language, light fluff, caught in the act, grinding

A/N: thank you for the prompt! I kept it relatively spoiler free and gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Another dingy basement full of traps; terrific. Astarion had been hunched over for at least an hour trying to disarm each square foot. “Whatever's in here better be worth this many traps” Astarion lifted a tripwire from the floor and removed the explosive attached to it. 

You sat on a barrel, ready to extinguish the flames with a spell at a moment's notice. Perhaps you were a bit distracted by Astarion's focused expression as well but you weren't too concerned about a trap going off. As you'd learned in your time together, Astarion was very dexterous. 

“We could always just set them off and pick through the ashes” you joked, watching him roll his eyes at the suggestion. 

“Are you volunteering to be the one to trigger the traps?” he asked, turning toward you. His face looked exhausted but you could see a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You shook your head. “I was thinking about sending Karlach in. She could handle it” you shrugged. 

Astarion walked over to you, resting his hands on your makeshift seat, cornering you. “And where are our dear companions now?” He asked, his signature purr lacing every word.

You parted your legs, instinctively, letting him stand between them. Your little situation with Astarion was hard to explain so you never really tried. Of course there was the sex but neither of you really left it at that despite both of your best efforts. You'd hand him the best loot first, letting him greedily hoard it from the rest of the camp until someone would intervene because he didn't really need a channeling staff. In battle, you noticed he'd defend you more than you thought was necessary. Some patterns were just being slipped into. Like how every morning you'd ask how his hunting went the night before. And every night he'd find some clandestine way to touch your hand before you turned in for sleep. 

“They went outside. I think they were bored” your eyes flitted to his lips which were moving closer to your own. You stayed still, waiting for him to make the first move.

With a quick turn of his face, Astarion leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Then it seems we're all alone” his voice dripping with desire. You couldn't help but try to squeeze your legs together at the sound of his voice, forgetting he stood between them still. Your thighs pressed against his and Astarion let out a light scoff at your expense. “Eager, are we?” he teased. You felt his lips press into your jaw, traveling across your neck. You nodded your head, a flush blooming across your face. 

You let out a small sigh, grinding yourself into him further. As Astarion moved to the waistband of your trousers, a heartstopping voice pulled you from your reverie. 

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Karlach's voice boomed throughout the basement. Astarion straightened himself immediately, trying to act casual but thoroughly shaken from the intrusion. You were not nearly as composed. You scrambled to jump off the barrel and fell off of it, bruising your ego more than anything else but that was irreparable now. 

From behind Karlach you saw Shadowheart, a sly grin across her features. “Well isn’t this a cozy scene. Wyll owes me 15 gold pieces” Shadowheart walked back upstairs, a sway in her step. 

You stood up from the ground, irritated. “Aw Tav, you're blushing” Karlach said in a sing-songy voice a school child might. 

Astarion put on his most flirtatious drawl and pointed at you, “You're welcome to watch, Karlach but you wouldn't believe how deep that blush goes” he gave her a pointed look through his impenetrable grin. You sent a glare his way.

Karlach raised her hands in surrender and began walking up the stairs. “If you're still looking for loot, keep it. I don't wanna touch it after you” she disappeared behind the door and Astarion looked at you.

“Well, now that the cat's out of the bag,” he held your waist and pulled you close. “Shall we pick up where we left off?” 

You rubbed the bridge of your nose and shook your head. “Just disarm the fucking traps, please” you were in no mood to continue what you had started. Astarion chuckled at your frustration and got back to work. You sat on the barrel again, feeling a bit happier than before. 

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #fic request #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction

[marwolaeth-76]

Hello! :3

Could you possibly do a one-shot of veneer from trolls with a fem reader, were veneer and reader are secretly dating?

Hello!! thank you for your request and thank you for waiting, I enjoyed writing this, I hope you enjoy it!🩷

Veneer x !femReader secretly couple

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You are an art designer for another group, which is strongly at odds with the duo Velvet and Veneer for popularity. But there’s just something that no one knows about, not your bosses or your friends. This is that you and Veneer a couple with the same singer from the famous duet. In general, you knew each other even before their stardom, you studied at the same college, but your paths diverged in different directions. But, having accidentally encountered backstage at some talk show where Velvet and Veneer were there, and your boss was supposed to be filming next to them, you saw your old friend and started talking. He told you about how he likes to receive so much attention from people, that he is delighted with things that he can afford with a snap of his fingers, Veneer listened attentively about how you found your job, and how you creatively think through images for your pop singer. He noted that he really liked their image, although at that time he did not know that you had a hand in it. In general, admired by your creativity, and you by his talent, you decided to keep in touch, but not advertise it, why the extra noise? as it turned out, it was a good decision, because soon, after walking and spending time together, you would feel a little more for Veneer than simple friendship. And now, after just a month, you notice small hints of romance from Veneer, a little more touching, a little more compliments on your appearance and random gifts. After that, you decided to take everything into your own hands, and as a result of a very awkward conversation, you both realized that you liked each other. You took a deep breath as you smoothed out your hair, trying to make yourself look as presentable as possible. Tonight was the big concert that Velvet and Veneer were performing, and as usual you were in the audience to support your secret boyfriend. As much as Veneer liked you, keeping your relationship private was necessary. Velvet would never approve of him dating a assistant to competitors, and if she found out it could spell disaster. So you two only dared to show affection when you were alone. The lights dimmed and the crowd roared as Velvet took the stage. You cheered and clapped along with everyone else, eager for Veneer to join her. When he appeared, dancing and singing backup as always, your heart soared at the sight of him. Even through the bravado he put on for performances, you could see the affection in his eyes when he looked your way. After a few high energy numbers, it came time for a slow song. Velvet took center stage alone as Veneer slipped off to the side. You watched him hoping for a signal, and sure enough he tilted his head toward the exit door. Making your excuse to leave, you hurried outside to meet him in the shadows. “I've been dreaming about holding you all night, I'm really lonely without you“ Veneer sighed as he pulled you close, tangling his hands in your hair. You embraced him, savoring the feeling of being in his arms without prying eyes. For a few brief moments you could pretend you were a normal couple, stolen away for a romantic rendezvous. All too soon the song ended and Veneer had to return. With a lingering kiss he whispered, “we'll see you again soon, sweetheart“ -Then he disappeared back into the light and noise of the crowd, leaving you holding the memory of his touch. It was enough to carry you through until you could be together again.

PS. it didn’t write out as much as I would have liked, but I didn’t know what exactly could be written, sorry🥺

♡♡♡♡♡♡

#veneer trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #velvet and veneer #trolls veneer #velvet trolls #trolls 1 #trolls 2 #fluff

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Pandora was right, taking baths out in the wilderness was great! He could see the stars and point out the constellations as he scrubbed himself and practiced his singing where no one could hear him. This did not stop him from wearing swim trunks, so hess a litte paranoid. Sue him.

Pandora had been very clear about going deep into the wilderness where no one could hear him sing, because if they heard the siren song of a halfa and fled they would be haunted by it forever or until he himself tracked them down and sang a song strong enough to free them.

Ancients she knew him so well.

He had been minding his own business playing in the water with his multitude of floating duck candles, a purchase he begged Sam for when he was drugged out of his mind after a very devastating injury, and practicing one of the songs Pandora put on the "study list" called The Fairy King. If he didn't know any better he would think she was making fun of him.

He scrubbed his arm with a washcloth as he sung watching as the ducks floated around in the little super hero costumes Tucker had 3d printed for them. "Huh. It almost looks like they're dancing."

A light bulb went off in his head. He began practicing with his telekinesis as he sang, making the ducks dance together in little twists and twirls. He doesn't think he's ever had this much fun in a bath before honestly.

----

Red Robin and Nightwing were sneaking through the foliage looking for a supervillians secret base when they heard it. The sound of a full symphony playing live off in the distance. They nodded at eachother before heading in the direction the sound was coming from. They were almost on top of it when they heard the singing begin,

"When the house is still i can hear his song, beckoning me out into the ga-ar-den" the boys froze, this didn't sound anything like thier villain, they turned back to the noise edging closer, "his lullaby- promises sweet- escaaape"

Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw once they parted the underbrush, a glowing white haired teenager was standing in chest deep water, haloed by the moon behind, offering them an ethereal scene "He says, 'come my drifting flower i will hold you tight. Listen to the chime of stars and moo-oonlight-'"

The teen lifted up a floating ducky that was dressed like Red Robin in one hand and placed the other of his chest as he continued singing, "take my hand-and feel here- my heaart"

Red Robin turned beat red and Nightwing moved to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder only to have a twig snap underneath his boot. The guy whirled around and locked eyes with Nightwing for only a moment before screaming and falling backwards into the water. Bubbles rose to the surface of the pond only for a few seconds before they vanished all together.

It felt like a spell was broken and the two vigilantes just stood there for a second before nightwing jumped in to save a possibly drowning teen. No matter how hard he searched he couldn't find any proof that the guy was ever even there, save for the duck candles (?) that Red Robin had already finished collecting from around the pond.

RR didn't seem surprised that the guy had vanished and was examining the ducks. More specifically the bottoms. Dick went to see what was going on only for his younger brother to show him the bottom of the Nightwing duck.

There, in messy handwriting, was the ducks name: Duckwing

Dick laughed and started going through the ducks names, Quack-Hood, Bat-Bill, Red-Drake (which was kinda concerning and brought up the question of whether or not this guy knew any of thier identities) and funniest of all, a Robin one with a little plastic katana simply named Stabby.

----

Danny hid his face in his pillow after accidentally teleporting home. This was awful.

He waited until the heat in his face disappeared before taking a few deep breaths and thinking about how he was going to handle this. He obviously needed to track down the two Gotham vigilantes (what were they doing out there?) and break the spell on them before they become obsessed with him.

Then he remembered his ducks, "Aw man. What are the chances they didn't take my ducks?" Teleporting back to the pond after a full hour of being away showed a dark and duckless pond, much to his disappointment.

Now he added "recue the ducks" to his mental checklist.

Unbeknownst to him the vigilantes weren't the only ones to hear his song...

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #Nightwing #dick grayson #red robin #tim drake #duck candle #duck candles dressed as vigilantes #and heros #this song is so dramatic

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Crushing On A Classmate

MM!Turtles x reader

A/N: I am not American and have never been to an American high school, so I’m just guessing based off of movies and what little I know.

Warnings: Just spelling and sweet Mutant Mayhem stuff💙❤️💜🧡

---------------------

Leonardo:

Leonardo would subtly try to impress you with his skills. He'd offer to help with homework, carry your books, and be your study partner, all while fumbling over his words, making his face feel hotter and hotter with every word.

Doing those times he brought you to the sewer to do homework together, he might showcase his expertise with his swords, hoping to catch your attention. He's protective, making sure you're always safe, and tries to be your personal hero. But then you would remind him that you still had homework due for tomorrow.

Leo would definitely be nervous around you, especially in the beginning. His usually somewhat calm and collected demeanor might falter, and he'd find himself stumbling over words or overthinking every interaction. Like that one time you didn’t hear him say hey. Left him in bed for days, wondering if you hated him all of a sudden.

When you sit next to him in class, Leo would feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. He'd try to act nonchalant, but you might catch him stealing glances at you. He'd be attentive, always ready to lend a helping hand if you need notes or assistance with anything, even if his hands would shake around his pencil.

Back at the lair, Leo would unintentionally bring you up in conversation more often than he realizes, with a dreamy look in his eyes. His brothers would pick up on it and start teasing him about his newfound interest.

Donatello might playfully analyze Leo's behavior, while Michelangelo and Raphael would make sly comments, causing Leo to blush and stammer in response. He was almost ready to die whenever they would do it with you around.

Michelangelo would tease him by singing love songs whenever you're mentioned, making Leo wish he could retreat into his shell.

Splinter, being wise, would observe Leo's actions and share a knowing smile. He'd offer guidance on matters of the heart, reminding him that it's okay to be vulnerable and express his feelings. Yet his dad would talk about love and dating as if he was an expert, especially after Scumbug had made her way into his life.

Leo might not openly admit to his crush, but his brothers knew straight away. He couldn’t keep a secret, and especially not when it came to you, but he tried. But after Raph just asked him once, Leo broke down admitting to everything. Yes he found you attractive, and yes he really wanted you to be his human girlfriend!

Raphael:

The tough and rebellious Raphael would probably act aloof at first, but deep down, he'd be more protective and caring over you than he'd like to admit. He might tease you playfully and engage in some friendly banter, but he often feared he pushed it too far, even if you laughed at his teasing.

Raphael would likely go out of his way to help you out in tough situations, and you'd catch him stealing glances when he thinks you're not looking. He did that quite often in class. Zoning out while staring at you from his seat behind you. That had caused him a lot of trouble when he didn’t follow along in school.

Raph, known for his tough exterior, would indeed feel a bit nervous around you. He might not show it openly, but his interactions might be marked by a subtle intensity, especially when he's trying to impress you.

While Raph is not one to readily ask for help, he might find excuses to be near you during group activities or projects. He'd prefer action over words, showcasing his skills and strength to get your attention.

Raph might not ask for help directly, but he'd appreciate your mental and physical strengths and secretly observe from a distance, admiring your capabilities.

At the lair, Raph would be more protective than usual. His brothers might notice him being a bit more on edge when it comes to your safety, no matter if it’s physical or emotional. Even just a little comment about you. Donnie and you liked to tease each other, but Raph did not like it at all.

Raph would likely express his crush through actions rather than words. He might offer you his jacket if you seem cold or step in to defend you during one of Donnie or Mikey's teasing episodes.

Raph's brothers would notice his crush through his protective and slightly more attentive behavior. Leonardo might be the first to pick up on it, observing the subtle signs of Raph's softer side.

Mikey would make light-hearted comments, teasing Raph about being a "hopeless romantic," while Donnie might analyze Raph's behavior more critically, telling him to quit being such a brute.

Raph wouldn't openly talk about his feelings, but his brothers would notice the extra effort he puts into being there for you and might offer some brotherly advice.

Donatello:

The tech-savvy Donatello would be the go-to person for any computer or gadget troubles you might have. He'd shyly compliment your intelligence, and you'd catch him staring as he admired your problem-solving skills with every test in front of you.

Donatello might find excuses to be close, offering to be your lab partner or working on a project together. His crush would be evident in the way he stumbles over his words, yet he would just brush it off as being a little cold, pulling his hoodie closer around him.

Donnie would be less nervous than some of his brothers, as his logical and analytical nature helps him keep his emotions in check. However, he might still find himself a bit flustered around you, especially if you catch him off guard.  It had happened that he almost choked on his juice box when you greeted him during lunch.

In class, Donnie would likely be a combination of teasing and helping. He'd use his intelligence to subtly impress you, offering assistance with challenging assignments or explaining complex concepts.

Donnie might playfully challenge you to solve problems or share interesting facts, finding ways to engage your intellect and showcase his own intelligence.

The moment he learned of your shared love for anime, he was close to starting running laps around the school.

When you visited the lair to do homework with him, Donatello would continue his supportive and helpful demeanor. He might offer to assist you with any tech-related issues or share interesting discoveries he made in his little lab.

While not explicitly talking about you, Donnie's brothers might notice the extra effort he puts into making sure you're comfortable and included. Raphael might make sarcastic comments, but Leo and Mikey would likely appreciate Donnie's caring nature.

Donatello's brothers might not notice his crush right away, as he's more subtle in expressing his feelings. However, over time, they'd observe his increased attention to you and the way he seems genuinely invested in your well-being.

Raphael might make snarky remarks, teasing Donnie about his "soft spot," while Mikey would probably cheer on any potential romantic development, saying it was about time at least one of them got a girlfriend.

Leonardo would offer some brotherly advice, encouraging Donnie to be more open about his feelings and not overthink things.

Michelangelo:

The fun-loving and carefree Mikey would probably invite you to pizza parties and movie nights the moment he realized he was developing feelings for you. He'd crack jokes, hoping to see your smile, and would be the first one to suggest a group hangout. Well, it didn't take long for him to ask you to hangout with him one on one either.

Mikey would absolutely try to make you laugh in class. He'd crack jokes, share funny stories, and maybe even doodle silly cartoons on your notebooks when you're not looking. His goal would be to brighten your day and see your smile, and most definitely succeeded at that.

He might even create a silly nickname for you as a sign of affection, and you'd find random doodles in your notebooks of you and him sharing a laugh. That had cost both of you stinging looks from your teacher, whenever the two of you would snicker at your table.

Mikey would be excellent at hiding his nervousness, using his cheerful and carefree persona to mask any anxiety he might feel. He'd make it seem like he's just being his usual goofy self around you.

Coming back home from school, Mikey would be even more energetic than usual, and his brothers would notice the extra pep in his step. He'd be excited to share stories about your day and any funny incidents that happened.

Mikey might not talk extensively about you, but he would highlight how cool and awesome you are. His brothers would catch on, and Raphael might roll his eyes while secretly enjoying Mikey's infectious enthusiasm.

Michelangelo would express his admiration for you by describing your coolest moments. "Dude, you should've seen (Y/N) today! She totally aced that move when she borrowed my skateboard. It was epic!"

He'd also try to include you in their pizza nights and movie marathons, subtly finding ways to spend more time together outside of school. It was becoming more and more common to find you and him in the brothers shared room, watching movies on his or your laptop.

When teased by his brothers about his crush, Mikey would play it off with a laugh, hands behind his head and a happy smile on his face, saying, "What? (Y/N) is just super awesome, bros. Can't help but appreciate that!"

To be honest, Mikey wasn't to scared about you or anybody else figuring out about his crush on you. Of course you made his heart skip a beat whenever you were close, but he did not fear the day you would learn about it. Actually, he looked forward to it.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt x y/n #tmnt x reader #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #tmnt leo #tmnt mikey #tmnt 2023 #tmnt mutant mayhem #mutant mayhem #tmntmm #mm donnie #mm raph #mm leo #mm mikey #mm michelangelo #mm leonardo #mm donatello #mm raphael #tmnt mm #tmnt mm x reader #tmnt mm leo #tmnt mm leonardo #tmnt mm raph #tmnt mm raphael

[swallowtail-lotus]

🔱Secret Lullaby {Poseidon x Goddess!Reader}🔱

Repost of my original post from my old blog.

God, just looking at him makes me want to kiss him 😍

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in the middle of your greenhouse, patting a small bunny that hopped in your lap. You watched the past few rounds of ragnarok with sad eyes, feeling dread inside.

Being the God/Goddess of peace wasn't easy.

You love humans and everything on Earth, as it is your home. Before you went to Valhalla, you used to live in a forest where no human dared to set foot in unless If they wanted a death wish.

Of course, you never brought harm to humans but you eventually left after Zeus found you and offered you to live with the gods.

Being the secretive being you are, you agreed but only if no deity disturbs you when you wanted to be left alone and to never let them know of your secret place.

So far, no God or Goddess has ever found your greenhouse. Even if they bothered to try, they couldn't find it. This was due to one of your masking spells, which was more effective to deities compared to the humans.

Thinking back on how the gods have tried to get answers out of you, but failed due to your ability to slip away fast enough. Those thoughts escalated to your past, where you were once filled with joy.

With your mother, who had lost her life to another God.

"I miss you, mother. So very much."

You thought, wiping away tears that slowly trickled down your face. You looked down at the bunny, who looked up and sat up. It leaned against your chest, trying to lean its face towards yours. You lifted the small bunny up and felt its face nuzzle yours, an attempt to cheer you up.

"Ah, thank you. I feel better now."

You cooed softly, patting its head with a sad smile. You felt something nudge your leg, something hard. You leaned forward to see a small harp near your right foot and a grey bunny pushing it towards your foot.

You held your hand over the harp, watching it levitate towards your hand. The grey bunny hopped on your right leg, nuzzling your waist while the white bunny copied the grey bunny.

"Such cuties."

You mumbled softly, watching them get comfortable on your lap and stopped to lay down. Your fingers hovered over the strings of your harp, slightly shaking from the sadness building up.

"Hope you're hearing this, mother..."

You muttered under your breath, strumming your harp slowly. Closing your eyes, you let yourself drown in the melodic music from your strumming. You opened your lips to sing quietly.

Soon, the animals in your greenhouse started to gather around, watching and listening to your voice. Then, the plants started swaying slowly to the music. At the end of the lullaby, a voice brought you out of your thoughts.

"What are you doing?"

Your eyes shot open at the sudden voice, growing wider when you saw who it was.

It was none other than Poseidon, the Sea God himself.

You stared at the God before you, internally panicking, mainly about how he knew of your greenhouse. You placed the harp down nervously, fiddling with your fingers.

"I-I was just playing a lullaby. Umm, how did you find my greenhouse?"

You squeaked out, feeling yourself shrink smaller when the God took a few steps forward, not too close to you.

"... It wasn't hard to follow you. I've known for a long time."

He answered, his emotionless face along with his voice sending chills down your spine. You knew very well he never speaks much to any being, even to his brothers. So him speaking to you now of all times baffled you. Truth be told, he has spoke to you more times than anyone else. But hearing him ask about your main hobby was strange.

The reason behind that was most likely because you were a Ruler, the Ruler of Nature.

"So you have. Never expected less from you, of course."

You spoke, gripping your clothes so tightly. Poseidon raised his eyebrows slightly, his shoulders dropping.

"....."

He kept silent, staring down at you with his dull eyes. Your head was down, but you knew he was staring. The sound of his boots clicking away got your attention. You held the bunnies close to you, standing up from your seat.

"See you, Lord Poseidon."

You whispered. Poseidon stopped at the entrance of your greenhouse, giving you the side eye glance.

".... Goodbye."

Those was the last words he let out before leaving. You stood in silence, a confused look on your face.

"What just happened?"

#record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok poseidon x reader #ror x reader #snv x reader #poseidon x reader

[five-flavor-soup]

This is technically in response/as an addition to a post on the supposed ‘double standard’ in the fandom between Zuko and Jet as Katara’s love interests, but it’s been so long since it was posted and I figured the OP would be entirely uninterested in my word vomit, especially after like one and half years—so, separate post. I added a link for those interested. There's a cut because this got quite long lmao.

In short, the post supposes the argument that though Jet would’ve made Katara kill people (something Zuko very much Did Not Do, no matter what you think about The Southern Raiders), he cleaned up his act after this. Zuko, on the other hand, did lots of Really Bad Things to Katara & Co. with far more frequency than Jet did and got redeemed after a multitude of episodes doing Various Things Moste Evile. To then slap Jet with The Toxic Ex-label and see Zuko as the ‘healthier’ and ‘better’ option creates a Double Standard(™) within the fandom, which is supposedly bad and not an arguably incorrect reading. 

But the differences in fandom perception between Jet and Zuko as Love Interests for Katara (one of which canonically, and the other potentially and apparently talked about in the writer’s room) are easily explained, as can the Supposed Double Standard—just by thinking about it from Katara’s viewpoint, or even the audience’s. Because, well, the worst things Jet ‘almost’ ended up doing didn’t happen because of outside interference only. 

That’s the important bit here. He 100% would’ve drowned an entire village just to get rid of a handful of Fire Nation soldiers, had Sokka not managed to evacuate everybody. He 100% would’ve grievously injured two people who, as far as Jet and everybody else were aware, were refugees who might not even be firebenders — considering nobody else saw Iroh heat up his tea, he could’ve been wrong — in an attempt to prove his own hunch. Had the guards not been there, had Zuko not been able to fight back with swords, Jet would’ve genuinely attempted to wound them for as much as a puff of smoke. And Jet consistently involves bystanders (innocent or not) in his desperate quest to harm and defeat the Fire Nation: the Gaang (and particularly Katara, through explicitly manipulative means) and the villagers in Jet; Zuko, Iroh, and the people in the teashop in City of Walls and Secrets. Additionally, we don’t see more violence from him because he’s not a main character like Zuko is—though it’s implied that Jet beats up villagers who are supposedly in cahoots with the Fire Nation often, only agreeing to turn over a new leaf when he, Smellerbee, and Longshot decide to move to Ba Sing Se. 

Zuko explicitly and frequently doesn’t harm people: that, or it isn’t important to the plot. He doesn’t burn down the village on Kyoshi, he literally only manages to lightly singe it. He threatens people with violence frequently but never actually goes in for the kill. I’d argue that the most explicitly violent thing he does in Book 1 is breaking Aang out of the Pouhai Stronghold—for his own ends obviously, but if it’s spelled like treason and sounds like treason, it’s probably treason. When he thinks of robbing the pregnant couple while he’s on the run, he stops himself of his own volition; when he considers using Appa to catch Aang (this was a point made against Zuko in the post), he’s unaware of what Appa’s been through prior to that point and sees him as no more than an animal used for travel, much like the ostrich horse he stole earlier in the season. 

Zuko’s schtick throughout Book 1 and 2 is that he doesn’t want to think of the consequences of his actions. His plans are never fully complete. He doesn’t think of how he’s going to get a chained, notoriously slippery little eel of an Avatar to the Fire Nation, and he doesn’t think about what would happen to twelve-year-old Aang after they got there—which is horrible of him, but it also shows an odd, ignorant kind of innocence that you’d associate with a kid who’s got a hard time telling right from wrong. Like, I love Zuko dearly, adore him even, but kiddo doesn’t think ahead until the Book 2 finale and even that’s debatable. He’ll eventually start thinking ahead a little bit but for the most part, he doesn’t. Not saying that takes away responsibility, because it absolutely doesn’t, but it is telling of Zuko’s character: he’s an ‘act first, think later’-kind of guy, all ‘fuck around; find out; maybe success’. His sole goal throughout Book 1 and 2 is going home, without even thinking on how to get there beyond like, Avatar in my custody => back in Fire Nation with Avatar => dad loves me again. And he says that his only intention is to go home too, in Ep 2 of Book 1:

Aang: If I go with you, [He holds his staff in front of him as an offer, making sure Zuko understands that he does not wish to continue fighting.] will you promise to leave everyone alone? [The camera cuts to a side-view of the area, Zuko's men still surrounding him, spears poised. After a brief moment of hesitation, Zuko erects himself and nods in agreement. Aang is apprehended by Zuko's men, who take his staff . . . ] Zuko: [Boarding the ship up the walkway. Determined.] Head a course for the Fire Nation. I'm going home.

(Added emphasis for my point)

Zuko is not the Big Bad. He’s not The Largest Threat. He never is. In Book 1 it’s Zhao, in Book 2 it’s Azula, and in Book 3 it’s Ozai. Zuko is a consistent threat, yes, but not a particularly large one no matter how good of a fighter he is. Because he’s presented to us as a disastrously hurt and traumatised little brat who we, the audience, are supposed to feel sorry for, and slowly grow fond of. Because we learn in The Storm that the notion of “caring for others is weak” has literally been branded into him. Because he keeps getting back up to fight, but consistently holds back. We are shown that he knows, on some level, that what he’s doing is wrong: the text suggests that Zuko is actively suppressing his morals. And by the time Zuko hires an assassin to ensure the Avatar is dead, we know that Zuko is incredibly unhappy with his choice(s) and is desperate to be safe; that he’s uncomfortable but wants to be comfortable; that he’s incorrect about the source of his fear while he’s back in the palace. The audience is shown this explicitly. 

By contrast, we’re shown that Jet is fully aware that those villagers will die. He’s fully aware that, if he manages to prove the two refugees are firebenders, they’ll be arrested and probably mutilated (if the hand-crushing is any indication). I love Jet and his character, but he’s supposed to be the example of poisoning yourself with your hatred, anger, and hurt. He’s revenge that goes too far, because he doesn’t allow himself closure. He knows the consequences and isn’t shown to care for them, as long as his goal is furthered.

And there is the small, but significant, difference between the two characters: Zuko initially just wants to capture the Avatar, is purposefully remaining unaware of what will happen when he does so, and is clearly shown to change, while Jet just wants to punish firebenders and is very aware of what will be necessary for him to do so, with a handful of lines of how he ‘stopped being like that’. And honestly, Jet is far more mature than Zuko is for quite some time, regarding the violence of war—basically as mature as Zuko eventually becomes at the tail-end of his redemption arc. But Zuko’s maturity is at that point healthier, because he doesn’t want to genuinely do harm. 

In regards to their separate relationships with Katara, there’s these fantastic points that @sokkastyles made in reply to the post:

The fact that Zuko actually did change and Katara actually forgave him makes ALL the difference. [ . . . ] The thing about Jet is how manipulative he was with Katara. He not only almost made her kill innocents, but he lied to her about the man he attacked having a knife when he was called out, so that Katara would see her as righteous. Someone who is willing to lie in order to make themselves seem good and someone who says they are going to change but then does the same things doesn’t have a good track record, and that’s a more troubling relationship dynamic than someone who acts as an upfront enemy but then sincerely changes.

And: 

I do think it makes sense to focus on manipulation being worse than being a cartoon villain when we're talking about personal relationships. I think many people can relate to having someone like Jet in their lives who seems nice but who lies and manipulates to justify their own bad behavior despite repeatedly claiming that they will change. Not that many people will experience being tied to a tree by someone who wants you to tell them where the Avatar is, and it is completely reasonable for people to be more forgivable of things Zuko did as a villain than things Jet did to Katara when he claimed to be a friend.

I actually don’t have anything to add to this, lol. It’s succinct and well-worded.

Lastly, in addition the relatability and the relationships being different (the manipulative, emotionally hurt, and self-proclaimed anti-hero versus the initially childish, explicitly confused and desperate cartoon villain, plus the girl they hurt horribly), there’s also the problem of Jet not being a main character. Jet is a relatively well-written side character, whilst Zuko is very quickly established as a main-ish character with his own POV (as the writers decided during the conceptualisation that he’d be joining Team Avatar eventually). Zuko’s troubling, self-destructive nature that has been forced upon him and his Tragic Childhood is shown in high definition. The audience is supposed to eventually be okay with Zuko and hopefully like him, slowly adding puzzle pieces to complete the picture of a horrific earlier youth and treatment by nearly everybody he knows except Iroh. Something like this isn’t necessary with Jet, not just because he was already incredibly likeable and understandable from his introduction and onwards, but also because he’s neither a villain nor a main character. 

There’s multiple reasons as to why Zuko is often seen as the ‘better’ option, just like there are multiple reasons why Jet and Zuko are compared so frequently—they’re both traumatised teenage boys who ‘rebel’ to get some semblance of control back, but we see Zuko change into a kid anyone would be a little bit proud and fond of and that doesn’t happen with Jet. Double standard or not, Zuko and Jet are different characters who the writers also treated very differently, on purpose. It makes sense to me that the audience would think Zutara is the ‘less bad’ or far better option. We know far more about Zuko than we know about Jet; and Jet’s redemption arc, if we can even call it that, halts permanently when Zuko’s is reaching the height it for him to go into a freefall, ultimately culminating in a genuine redemption. We, the audience, know this. So does Katara.

#atla meta #zutara meta #not tagging this j*t*ra bc its a bit negative and i do not want to infringe on anyone's tag lmao #but i will tag it #jetara critical #just to be safe #jet atla #prince zuko #katara #zutara #the thing about both these ships is that katara can be put down as making an active choice in the narrative #though it wants to punish her for it #she is Wrong. he is Bad Guy. here's Better Guy go have babies #regardless. i feel like post-redemption zuko would be easier for her to choose--because she saw the proof of his change

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______

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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

[paper-starz]

WELCOME HOME THEORY 2: The Theory Strikes Back

Good evening, gentlemen, gentleladies, and gentlethems,

Or Good night

Or even good morning,

Whenever you are, I humbly come to you all with another theory.

This time, its our favorite morally questionable sentient house, Home!

So strap in, buckle up, cause I have STUFF TO SAY.

THIS WILL BE VERY LONG AND IT WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE UPDATE!!

Alright, so to begin, what the HECK is going on with Home?

They are one of the most mysterious characters in Welcome Home, we don't know much if not anything at all. And what we do know... wellllll......

Yeah definitely not menacing at all.....

The only thing that we do know of Home is well… ^ This and the fact that it and Wally are sentient.

Ok, let’s backtrack. HOMES SENTIENT???

Yep! While it was implied in the first update that it was aware of us, this handy-dandy audio clip confirms that Home (like Wally) is aware of “You” (Whoever this “You” person may be. Either literally us or the Question Answerer).

Now, what exactly Home is saying is still up for debate. Some say that it’s “Help Me” while others say it’s “Hello”. (It’s incredibly hard to know what’s exactly dots and dashes with Homes banging) but one thing is for sure, Home is communicating with us.

“AHHHH HOW SCARY! THE CREEPY DEMON HOUSE IS GONNA KILL US” D:

And that’s where you’re wrong, dear viewer. While Home is clearly morally dubious and incredibly suspicious, like Wally, I don’t think it’s necessarily evil.

Take for instance this link right here. It’s an honestly cute lil audio of Wally singing to Home. But while that is adorable, it’s the ending that I really wanna focus on.

Wally: …Do you like it? Home: *Creaks* (it’s Morse code again! Spells out IDO) Wally: Thats good… I think…

Ok why did I bring this old little clip up? Oh ya know… no reason… OTHER THAN THE FACT THAT WALLY CAN’T UNDERSTAND HOME ANYMORE!!!

Ok, I know whatcha thinkin’ “Why not anymore?”

Take a listen at another audio clip, this time it’s a secret one!!

The clip is about Barnaby and Home having a conversation with one another! But if you listen real closely… Home is not speaking in Morse code! It’s their own lil Home language, still consisting of creaks and bangs… yet Barnaby doesn’t seem to have any trouble understanding Home.

So how come Wally can’t understand Home and yet Barnaby can?

It’s because Wally’s sentient now. He’s getting more real. More human. Cartoon logic does not apply to Wally anymore! To us, Home is speaking in gibberish! Since it’s gibberish to us, then it’s gibberish to Wally!

And Home knows that, so it does the next best thing and tries using another language to hopefully communicate better. Now that I’m listening to the first audio clip again (so-below), it makes sense why Home is “speaking” slowly. It’s not used to communicating that way. It’s hard to tell their dots from their dashes, their bangs from their creaks, and it’s pauses are sometimes too long and too short at the same time! In a weird way, Home kinda has an accent when speaking in Morse code.

It’s kinda sweet just how hard Home is trying to communicate with Wally and us. Makes ya forget that Home has a weird portal and a flesh heart inside of them.

“WAIT WHAT?!?” (<- That’s you)

Yeah, remember when I said the more sentient something gets the more “real” they get?

Yeah, it’s also been happening with Home too. Go on any doodle audio file, and you can hear assumably Home’s heart beating away. You can hear it very clearly in this audio right here! I doubt the Playfellow Workshop made Home with a literal BEATING heart, but hey, Home is where the heart is I guess…

And now, the portal thing.

“Since when did Welcome Home ever had a portal??”

Oh since the very beginning actually!

First updated “portal” picture

Many people (including yours truly) theorized that this swirly spiral was a portal to the real world. It seems that we have more evidence to support this theory too!

First updated portal (shown left) and second updated portal (shown right)

Hey…. Wait a second…. Is it just me or it the portal getting…. Bigger?

The first update it was small, even the black goo wasn’t as bad… on the second picture, the spiral is INCREDIBLY large, and now the goo is coating the trees.

Well, isn’t that ominous.

"But wait. If Home has a portal... where is this portal even going?"

Both portals have the same black goo surrounding it, the same white eye in the center and the same swirl.

It's going to the Restoration team. And look at where the portal is placed. It's on the ceiling. "As above"

and the one in Welcome Home is "So below"

So perhaps the portal in Home is on the floor... This CANNOT be a coincidence I swear!!

With weird goo covering everything. And like, thats not all!

If you compare the items that the Restoration team uploaded onto the site in the first update and on the second update, you'll notice that the items have grown significantly larger.

At first, it was just envelopes with paper crammed inside of it. As if the person was trying to cram in as much information as possible. It isn't neat.

About us page: All of the paper materials tucked away inside the envelopes we have received are usually crammed together and covered in paint and ink.

Now, in the second update, the items have grown larger.

These items are much larger than mail, and I believe it also has something to do with how much bigger the portal has gotten.

Pretty soon, we might have full-grown puppets jumping in. But now that begs the question... Why is Home doing this?

Well, I think it's because Home really wants to help Wally.

As you inspect the website, there's a bunch of evidence that Wally is growing increasingly desperate for some other kind of sentient connection. It's been growing so much that it starts to get worrying...

Let's go back to the conversation between Home and Barnaby, notice anything weird? Not really? Well, I noticed that every bug audio file was in the perspective of Wally. Here, Wally is just staring at his half-finished painting, even Barnaby comments on this and finds it odd that Wally stopped painting.

It looks to me that Wally was dissociating. There, but not really there. He's been disconnected from reality because it feels unreal to him.

And Home sees that. As soon as the conversation turns to Wally, Home goes dead silent. When Wally still does not respond, Home releases a series of quick creaks and bangs to try and get Wally's attention. It doesn't work. Once Barnaby says Wally's name, it snaps him out of his dissociative state.

And Home is worried about Wally.

It gives a whole new look to the infamous "so-below" image.

Home isn't looking at Wally, it's looking straight at us. Eyes shaking as Wally seems like he's begging. Home doesn't look malicious here, Home looks like it's begging us to do something to calm Wally down because it physically can't anymore.

Home and Wally don't have a lot, if not any facial expressions at all. And shaky eyes in cartoons are a good indicator that someone is scared.

And if Home (in this link) is saying "Help Me", then no wonder! Heck, even the freaking disk is shaking!

Home is reaching out to us for help because it can't comfort Wally anymore and I don't know about you but that is SAD.

Two puppets that recently gained sentience can't even get the comfort out of each other because they can't communicate anymore :(

So, all Home can do is wait and watch Wally.

And if help won't come to you, well, having a handy-dandy portal is very helpful!

You can go to the help instead.

#welcome home #wally darling #welcome home wally #welcome home home #welcome home barnaby #barnaby b beagle #theory #HONESTLY #THIS GIVES ME SUCH A NEW PERSPECTIVE ON HOME #Honestly #The fandom (including myself) kinda used Home as a scapegoat for creepy shit! "AAA! Home is evil and wrong and bad >:( #And while Home is still morally dubious #I think (like Wally) it's desperate for help

[ifearzombies]

Little Things You Do That Make The Brothers Fall For You All Over Again

Lucifer: - When you help mediate a fight between ANY of the siblings. It helps strengthen the family and helps with healing from all the trauma and grief. - You turn your phone off when in his room. His brothers have made him slightly paranoid of pictures of him being taken without his consent and you taking that precaution to alleviate his concerns means the world to him. - You try. You try so hard in school because you know it’s important to him and Diavolo and so when he sees you bent over books and asking him or Satan for help it brings him so much joy.

Mammon: - You call him your first. He loves hearing it and making him feel like he’s extra special to you. - You go full in when you decide to help with a scheme. When you made the panda plush, he saw how much work you put in for just him. - When he catches you dancing and singing in your room. He sees how cute you look and how much joy you have and it just melts his heart.

Leviathan:

- You talk to Henry 2.0. You come in and take a minute to say hi to him and ask the little fishy how he’s doing. The fact you treasure Henry makes him treasure you more. - When you try to follow along with what he’s talking about. His own brothers barely listen to him. They can’t follow. They don’t really try. But you? You do. He feels seen and heard. - When you come in with a blanket and just curl up in front of the giant aquarium and just vibe. You watch him play games, talk to him. But you just quietly share the space. Just to be beside him. He has cried in happiness over this several times.

Satan:

- You aren’t afraid of him and his anger. You should be. But you don’t treat him like a bomb about to go off any second and hold him close. He loves when you hold him and don’t shirk from him; even when he’s mad. - When you join him in playing with his secret cats. - When you learn a new spell and excitedly show him. He loves magic almost as much as Solomon, so seeing your exuberance over learning something is a treasure.

Asmodeus:

- When you relax and let him just fix your hair or do your nails and just chatter away. You work so hard to help everyone in the house, the palace, and PH, that you relaxing with him is just so lovely. - When you are asleep beside him and he can just look at how pretty you look sleeping in his bed. - When you tell him he’s beautiful. He knows it, but hearing you say it with that sincere, loving look on your face just makes his heart melt and he feels TRULY beautiful.

Beelzebub: - When he sees you cooking. You tend to cook larger portions or a whole second meal just for him when you cook and he knows it’s hard work to make that much food. You have a sore back when you’re done and you have to clean the mess. But you do it anyways. Just for him. He always hugs you when you cook and gives you a smooch. - When you gift him food from your pocket. You always have food on you and he knows if he needs something between classes or he can’t get to the kitchen, you will inevitably offer him something. The fact that you keep food on you for him shows you’re thinking of him all the time and he loves that. - You accept his invitations to whatever he’s doing. Working out? You’re there spotting if you can. Snowboarding? He is now teaching you to snowboard. You accept his invitation to spend more time with him. You’re mortal. Your time is precious and you’re giving it to him. He can’t help but fall in love again when he thinks of it.

Belphagor:

- You go to the attic a lot when he asks because it’s now a special place. It sucks going up that many stairs after a day at RAD. And he knows it. So the fact you agree just for him? Amazing. - When you sleep and he can go in your dreams and he finds you dreaming about him and Beel. He admittedly gets jealous if it’s anyone else. But knowing you’re in his thoughts that much when dreaming?  He can only try to snuggle you more to let you know he loves you even more now. - You aren’t afraid of him. Like Satan, you really should be. You were killed by him! But even when you have nightmares about that moment, and he’s watching, he hears your thoughts and how you know he was lashing out in pain. And that you really wanted to help him. And then when you wake up after those nightmares; those night terrors of your literal death, the first thing you do is hug him. He asks the stars what he ever did right in his life to deserve you.

#obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphagor #obey me belphie

[orqheuss]

💚 Sebastian Sallow headcanons 💚

Sebastian has a habit of rambling. Asking him any personal question about his feelings is a surefire way to get him to ramble about whatever he is researching at that current moment with nervous energy instead of answering. It's not only when he's nervous, to be fair, he just has a tendency to ramble in general. The boy is a Nerd. You will always find him around the castle with his nose in a book, so any opportunity to talk about the thing he is currently interested in, he's taking it.

High key ADHD. Boy cannot be still to save his life. He's always moving in some way, be it tapping his foot, twirling his wand, playing with your fingers-- he's moving some body part. It can definitely be annoying at times, but you can't help but let him continue, especially when he has that cute consentrated face.

He's a lightweight. It doesn't take much for him to get absolutely plastered, and when he's that sloshed he has endless amounts of energy. It's like taking his normal golden retriever-ness and ramping it up to 100. I'm talking climbing on tables and singing Scottish Gaelic folk songs (he's fluent in the language) with a full conjured folk band (fiddle and all) until Ominis drags him to his bedroom. He always gets invited to parties.

Can speak, read, and write many languages, but his favorite is latin. Again, he's a huge nerd, so he learns as many languages as he can so he can read any book he encounters. He teaches his friends latin and sometimes likes to leave them little notes that no one else can read. You can bet he made up a secret language that only he and Anne knows; not even Ominis can crack it. 100% tried to learn Parseltongue out of spite because Ominis said it was impossible to master if you weren't born with it. Sebastian knows a few words after making his friend repeat phrases tediously over and over until he got at least some of it, and it drives him insane that Ominis was technically right (Ominis is very smug about this).

Sebastian is super affectionate with his friends. He grew up in a house that valued physical touch and comfort, so random hugs and little touches are second nature. He'll guide your hand when learning new spells because he used to do the same to Ominis in first and second year, ruffle yours and Ominis' hair when he's feeling playful, bump his shoulder against yours in the hallway when he's feeling mischievous, and sometimes fully lay across the both of you, feet in one persons lap and head in the other, and make you play with his hair when he's tired, sad, or stressed.

A big softy around animals. He's not much of a cat person and won't really go out of his way to pet them or play with them (unless they initiate first) but he will never turn down playing with a dog. He has always wanted one of his own, but his parents died before they could get one and Solomon hated house pets. He likes to hang out with the nifflers the most in beasts class-- he finds them adorable and their energy hilarious. Sebastian sometimes carries little shiny things he finds around the highlands for them.

The Mom Friend™️. Always has what you need in his pockets. Have to sneeze? Here's a tissue. Need a vial for some potion ingredient? Say no more. Have a headache? He has a potion just for that. He has everything. Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he put an extension charm on his robe pocket for that exact purpose. The boy always has to be prepared for anything, even the absolute worst case scenario.

So clumsy. He'd trip over air if he wasn't careful. When he's dueling he's perfectly fine, but just walking around or talking with his friends? He's accidentally running into walls or knocking things over. It's never on purpose or because he's incompetent, it's just that he gets so wrapped up in what he's talking about that he doesn't notice his hand gestures getting too close to the potion he's brewing or see the turn just up ahead. Ominis makes a lot of jokes that Seb needs his echolocation charm more than he does, but it's all in good fun.

#tina speaks #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow headcanon #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian hogwarts legacy #sebastian hl #sebastian sallow hogwarts legacy #i just love him very much #he's so cute #he's canonically a nerd and i think ppl forget that sometimes #what a perfect guy #what murder i don't see any murder

[lincolndjarin]

my sister lives in the attic.

main masterlist

joel miller x reader

warnings : angst, death, child loss, grieving, denial

a/n : i've never written something like this but i'm in a weird place and this idea has been following me for quite some time now so i decided to take a few minutes and write it, i'd love some feedback on it since this style is kinda new to me !!

He didn’t like to talk about his children. 

“Do you have kids?”

“Two daughters.” Was all he said.

That’s what he had told you on your first date. He was so abrupt about it that you didn’t ask about them again, instead opting to wait until he told you on his own terms. 

On your fifth date he told you that Ellie got in trouble for cursing in gym class that day. 

On your seventh date he told you Sarah was away at college, and that he missed her terribly and wished she would visit. 

On your eighth date he told you that Ellie made him a card for his birthday. He even brought it over to your house to show you. It was a drawing of the two of them floating through space. The inside said:

i love our family to the moon and back!

You didn’t ask why Sarah wasn’t included in the crayon family portrait. 

On your ninth date he showed you the photos in his wallet. A baby girl with her curly dark hair up in two little buns sitting in the sand. The one below it was a girl who looked to be about five, giving the camera a toothy grin, standing next to Joel in a courthouse, holding up her adoption papers. 

On your twelfth date he finally invited you over for dinner, you happily accepted. 

Joel introduced you to an extremely energetic seven year old. He gave you a tour of the house (only the first floor.) and you smiled at every family photo hung on the walls.

“I invited Sarah but she couldn’t make it, she’s got midterms but I’m sure you’ll meet her soon.” He tells you before leaving you with Ellie, going to pick up a pizza for the three of you. 

Ellie tells you about school, about her best friend Riley, and about playing soccer in the backyard with her father. 

And then she says the strangest thing. 

“My sister lives in the attic.”

“Excuse me?” You had given her a confused smile but she carried on as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“My sister, Sarah, lives in the attic.” She said it so plainly. Taking your hand and dragging you up the stairs, pointing up at a staircase on the second story that led to a singular door, pink paint peeling from it with little wooden letters spelling out SARAH, the sight of it put you on edge. 

“We shouldn’t go up there honey, let’s wait until your father gets back.” You had put up a bit of resistance but she ran ahead of you, you watched helplessly from the bottom of the stairs as Ellie pushed open the door and ran inside. 

“It’s okay, dad says I can talk to Sarah whenever I want as long as I don’t touch her stuff.” She had shouted, already inside. Despite every nerve in your body singing for you to go back downstairs and wait, you knew better than to leave a child alone so you climbed the steps and entered the room. 

Nothing strange, nothing frightening, no secret nightmare. 

When you look around all you see is a room, albeit a child's room but a room nonetheless. 

Ellie sits in a love seat, suddenly repeating everything she told you about her day to seemingly no one as she stares at Sarah’s bookshelf. You walk around, trying to recall when Joel said she left for college. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust but strangest of all this is clearly not a teenager's room. 

This is a childs room, for a girl about Ellie’s age. Every photo on her desk doesn’t show her older than what looks to be twelve. 

“Ellie, honey, when you said your sister lived in the atti-'' She doesn’t stop talking from behind you, ignoring you entirely but her words stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Dad keeps saying you’re coming home for Christmas but he also said you’d be home for his birthday, he keeps telling me how much we’re gonna get along but I just tell him we already get along fine.” 

It sends a chill up your spine, you aren’t superstitious but in a moment of weakness when you turn a part of you almost expects to see a ghost.

Of course that isn’t the case.  

When you look Ellie remains in the loveseat, seemingly the only thing that isn’t covered in dust up here. Her eyes trained on the highest shelf, when you follow her line of sight all of it starts to make sense. The shelf is covered in books and toys and trinkets, all of which are showing signs of age and disuse but the top shelf is neat and tidy, it even looks recently dusted. 

Only two things are on the top shelf. 

A beer bottle with the label ripped off, a lilac sits within it, a few stray petals lay in a halo around the makeshift vase. 

And a dark purple urn. 

You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, unable to tear your eyes from it. 

“One time Uncle Tommy told me she was an angel.” She whispers when you stare in silence for far too long. “Dad got so mad we didn’t see Tommy for like a month after that and when we did see him again everything went back to normal.”

“What happened to her?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, she only shrugs in response.

“It was before I lived here, I never ask, I’m worried he’ll send me to live with Uncle Tommy if I do.” 

“Oh, honey.” You crouch down beside her, she hugs her knees to her chest. “He wouldn’t do that.” 

“I’m still not gonna ask. He doesn’t talk about her that much, only when someone else brings it up or if I ask to come up here to see her.” You nod slowly before holding your arms out to her, she wraps herself around you and you carry her to the door, eager to leave the tomb you’ve stumbled upon. “Bye Sarah.” She mumbled against your shoulder as you closed the door, the sentiment sent shivers down your spine. 

When Joel returns with the food it’s as if you never were in the attic at all.

Ellie runs to him, wrapping herself around his leg as he laughs, trying to kick her loose. 

When the three of you sit down for dinner she never says a thing to him about any of it. 

She asks if she can go to her friends house after dinner, their mom is going to take them to the arcade, Joel grins at you, asking if she was good while he was gone and you put on a smile, nodding. 

“Then you can go.” He ruffled her hair before she ran off to get her backpack. When it was just the two of you he took your hand, mentioning something about catching a movie while she’s gone, you nodded absentmindedly when he gave your hand a gentle squeeze you finally looked him in the eye. 

You’d never noticed it before but there is a permanent sorrow behind the dark expanse of his irises, as if he’s never really happy, he’s sometimes just less sad. “Everything okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” 

You don’t bring up the attic at the dinner table.

Or in the car.

Or at the movies. 

He just needs time, you tell yourself. Maybe he’ll tell you on your thirteenth date, maybe it won’t be until your hundredth date. Until then you won’t tell him that you know who lives in the attic and you’ll nod with faux disappointment when he says that his eldest won’t be home for the holidays this year. 

And you’ll take extra care of him on days when he comes home with fresh lilacs.

a/n : yeah so uhhhhhhhhhh tell me how y'all liked this haha idk if i'll write anything like this again it was just sort of something for me to vent with, hope everyones having a good day and thank y'all for reading <3

#lincolndjarin #one shot #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou joel #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us #tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel and ellie #sarah miller

[zapreportsblog]

Ok ok ok, do one where reader is a fairy, I mean like tinkerbell size, and they need somewhere warm during the winter because they’ve been living in a tree, so they seek refuge in the Cullen household and one of them finds them (I don’t really care who it is so you can pick, but in the end I want all of them to meet the fairy)

Also I love your writing so much omg ❤️

❝little fairy girl❞

✭ pairing : Cullen Family x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is a forest fairy that lives nearby the Cullens though she goes unnoticed but as winter rolls by she seeks shelter in their house, again unnoticed well that’s until she is noticed

✭ twilight masterlist

In the heart of Forks, Washington, nestled deep within the dense forest, there was a place unlike any other. It was a realm of magic, hidden from the eyes of ordinary humans, and only known to those who believed in the extraordinary. This mystical place was home to (Y/N), a fairy of unparalleled beauty and grace.

(Y/N) had lived in the enchanted woods of Forks for as long as she could remember. With her delicate wings shimmering like the morning dew and her emerald eyes sparkling like the ancient trees that surrounded her, she was a vision of ethereal beauty. Her hair, the color of moonlight, cascaded down her back, and her laughter echoed through the forest, filling it with a sense of wonder and enchantment.

The fairy's home was a cozy, ivy-covered cottage nestled beneath the towering cedar trees. Inside, her living room was adorned with delicate crystals that bathed the room in a soft, colorful glow. Books on magic and ancient spells lined the shelves, evidence of her insatiable curiosity about the hidden mysteries of the forest.

But (Y/N)'s life wasn't just about solitude and serenity. She had friends among the woodland creatures, from the mischievous squirrels who would playfully tease her, to the wise old owls who shared their ancient knowledge. She was also known to dance with fireflies on warm summer nights and sing songs that made the flowers bloom with every note.

Her closest companion, however, was a majestic wolf named Luna, who had silvery fur that shimmered like the moon. Luna was not an ordinary wolf; she possessed a deep connection to the fairy and served as her protector in the enchanted woods. Together, they were an inseparable pair, guardians of the mystical secrets that lay hidden in the heart of Forks.

But as peaceful as life seemed, there was an undercurrent of mystery and intrigue in the enchanted woods. Rumors of a long-forgotten prophecy whispered through the leaves, and (Y/N) couldn't shake the feeling that her destiny was entwined with the fate of the forest and the creatures who called it home.

As autumn's vibrant colors gave way to a crisp chill, (Y/N) sensed the approaching winter with a shiver of unease. Her woodland home, though enchanting, was not immune to the harshness of the season. The leaves had fallen from the trees, and a biting wind swept through the forest, making her delicate wings quiver.

Realizing she hadn't prepared herself adequately for the impending cold, (Y/N) knew she had to find shelter. Her small, palm-sized form wouldn't withstand the winter's icy grasp for long. She needed a safe haven, and there was one place that came to mind—the Cullen house.

With a mixture of determination and trepidation, (Y/N) embarked on her journey to the Cullen residence. She fluttered through the forest, her wings beating gracefully against the frigid air, until she reached the edge of the property. She hid among the evergreen branches, observing the house from a distance.

The Cullen house, like its inhabitants, was a mysterious place. It had an aura of elegance and secrecy that intrigued (Y/N) from afar. She knew of the family who resided there, thanks to the whispers of the forest creatures. They were rumored to be different, special in a way that matched the enchantment of Forks' woods.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, (Y/N) darted closer to the house, searching for a hidden entry point. She found a crack in the foundation just wide enough for her to slip through. With a silent prayer to the woodland spirits for guidance, she entered the Cullen home unnoticed.

Inside, the warmth enveloped her like a comforting embrace. It was a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. (Y/N) remained hidden, her tiny form tucked away in the shadows, as she watched the Cullens move about their daily lives, unaware of her presence.

She listened to their conversations and marveled at their beauty and grace. There was something otherworldly about them, much like herself. In this moment, (Y/N) felt a strange kinship with the Cullens, as if fate had brought her here for a reason.

As the days grew shorter and the nights colder, (Y/N) continued to seek refuge in the Cullen house, all the while remaining hidden, her presence a secret known only to the creatures of the forest and the whispering winds. Little did she know that her decision to seek shelter with the Cullens would lead to unexpected encounters and a destiny she could never have imagined.

Days turned into weeks, and (Y/N) continued to find solace in the warmth of the Cullen house, hidden away from their view. She observed their interactions with a mixture of fascination and curiosity, still unsure if revealing herself was the right course of action.

One evening, as (Y/N) perched on a windowsill, peering outside at the falling snowflakes, she heard a soft, melodious voice. It was Esme, the matriarch of the Cullen family, known for her boundless compassion and nurturing spirit. Her voice carried through the house like a soothing lullaby.

Esme had been tending to the grand piano in the living room, her graceful fingers dancing over the keys. The hauntingly beautiful music filled the air, and (Y/N)'s heart swelled with the emotions it evoked.

Drawn by the enchanting melody, (Y/N) fluttered closer, her tiny form hovering just out of sight. Unbeknownst to her, her presence had not gone entirely unnoticed by Esme. The matriarch had a keen intuition that extended beyond the ordinary, a gift that had served her well throughout her long life.

Esme paused in her playing, her golden eyes scanning the room. Her gaze, gentle yet perceptive, landed on the small, hidden fairy.

"Is someone there?" Esme asked, her voice filled with warmth and concern. Her eyes seemed to penetrate the shadows, seeking out the hidden presence.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her heart fluttering with uncertainty. But there was something in Esme's gaze, a kindness and understanding, that urged her to reveal herself. With a graceful descent, (Y/N) landed on the edge of the piano, her tiny figure illuminated by the soft glow of the room's lights.

Esme's eyes widened in gentle surprise as she beheld the tiny, radiant fairy before her. Her fingers, once poised over the piano keys, now reached out slowly, as if offering a delicate greeting.

"Hello there," Esme whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "What brings you to our home, dear one?"

(Y/N) hesitated no longer. With a voice as delicate as the rustling leaves, she replied, "I sought shelter from the cold, and your home offered warmth and solace."

A warm smile graced Esme's lips as she extended her hand, allowing (Y/N) to alight upon her palm. "You are most welcome here," Esme said, her golden eyes filled with kindness. "We are a family that embraces the extraordinary, and you, my dear, are indeed extraordinary."

In that moment, (Y/N) knew that her life had taken an unexpected turn. She had found not just refuge from the winter's chill but also a new family, one that saw the magic within her and accepted her as one of their own. And so, her journey with the Cullens began, forging bonds that would change her destiny forever.

With Esme's gentle hand supporting her, (Y/N) felt a sense of belonging she had never known before. The warmth of the Cullen house was not just physical; it emanated from the family's genuine acceptance and kindness. Still nestled in Esme's palm, she couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude.

As (Y/N) perched in Esme's hand, the matriarch made her way through the house, introducing the tiny fairy to each member of the Cullen family. First, they came across Carlisle, the family's patriarch, with his calming presence and golden eyes that mirrored Esme's. He extended a hand, and (Y/N) hopped onto his fingers, offering a delicate curtsy in greeting.

Next were Alice and Jasper, their unique gifts allowing them to sense emotions and foresee outcomes. Alice's infectious enthusiasm and Jasper's serene demeanor made (Y/N) feel at ease. She flitted around them, her presence met with smiles and welcoming gestures.

Edward, the introspective mind-reader of the family, regarded (Y/N) with curiosity and a hint of amusement. He didn't say much, but his presence was enigmatic and intriguing. (Y/N) couldn't help but be captivated by his enigmatic aura.

Rosalie and Emmett, the physically powerful siblings, greeted (Y/N) with hearty laughter and playful banter. They seemed larger than life, their vibrant personalities filling the room.

Lastly, they arrived at the youngest member of the family, Renesmee, a half-human, half-vampire hybrid who possessed an extraordinary ability to communicate with those around her through thought. Renesmee's eyes widened with wonder as she extended her hand, her gentle thoughts reaching out to (Y/N). The fairy fluttered toward her, sharing a moment of unspoken understanding.

Each introduction was met with curiosity, fascination, and an unwavering acceptance. The Cullens, a family of unique individuals with their own supernatural qualities, embraced (Y/N) as one of their own, a living embodiment of the enchantment that surrounded them.

Esme's voice filled the room as she spoke of (Y/N)'s arrival and the circumstances that had brought the tiny fairy into their lives. The family listened with rapt attention, their expressions a mixture of intrigue and empathy.

"You are no ordinary visitor, (Y/N)," Esme said with a smile, her hand cradling the fairy gently. "You are a part of this family now, and we are delighted to have you."

(Y/N) couldn't have asked for a more extraordinary welcome. In the presence of the Cullens, she had found not just shelter from the cold, but a place where her magic was celebrated and her heart had discovered a new home. Her life had taken a remarkable turn, and she knew that her journey with the Cullens was only beginning.

#x reader #x reader one shot #x reader oneshot #x reader requests #twilight #twilight masterlist #twilight scenario #twilight imagines #twilight carlisle #twilight imagine #twilight esme #twilight rosalie #twilight emmett #twilight edward #twilight alice #twilight jasper #esme cullen #carlisle cullen #rosalie hale #jasper hale #alice cullen #emmett cullen #edward cullen #twilight x fairy reader #twilight x y/n #twilight x you

[imintoomanyfandomscuzihaveadhd]

Random ass spider headcanons that are in my maladaptive daydream

Warning: Not proof read, Cussing, probably OOC, acro ace kiri, mentions of AOT,

First and foremost FUCK HIS FOSTER FAMILY UNCLE NORM RAISED SPIDER 😤

His pain tolerance is through the roof. Like he fell out of a tree and was confused on why Lo’ak was freaking out, he looked down and was like “oh my leg’s broke”

He also like never gets sick but when he does it’s bad

Poor baby got abandonment and anger issues 😭

Probably projecting but he’s got ADHD. It was worse when he was little but he still has his hyper manic episodes

This boy radiates so much heat it’s not even funny

HE CAN SING 😩 AND PLAY THE GUITAR 😫

However he can’t dance worth shit💀 all he can do is a awkward shuffle

Projecting (again) but he tries to take care of his hair but gives up really easily. Like he will have a solid hair routine for like a week and just forgets about it instantly

subconsciously brings samples back to the lab.

This poor boy is touch starved please give him a hug

Most of the young Na’vi kids love him despite their parents distaste

Secretly watches his parents video diaries but pretends like he never wants to see them especially his dads

Him and norm watch old anime and superhero movies that was saved on drives

His hair grows hella fast

He’s a very fast learner

He knows Spanish definitely can and will cuss anybody who doesn’t understand it out

Lyle: “SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT HE’S SAYING I DONT SPEAK TACO BELL”

Lopez:😭🤣

Has crazy ass sleepwalking spells. Like everyone in the lab literally couldn’t find him. Norm decided he would go avatar to look for spider outside and spider was dead ass asleep in the pod💀

He also sleeps like a rock like the whole lab could get blown away and he would still be sleeping

Morning boi. Like why is he up at 5:30am eating breakfast watching old Pokémon reruns on a Wednesday 🤨

His room is a disaster

Steals avatar/recom clothes

Norm: “Spider, give me back my shirt it’s like 6x your size”

Spider, who looks like a toddler cuz the shirt is so big: “So? You just jealous I look hotter than you in it🙄”

I feel like there’s random period where spider will just wonder off into the forest when he’s not feeling mentally well. And it’s ok because he got the ewya armor

Like he’s found his own secret caves and groves to go to when he’s upset or just wants to be alone

Him and loak once stole the Navi equivalent to alcohol, got drunk and Jake beat their ass

Helps teach Navi kids English

Him, loak, kiri, havin waifu talk after spider showed them the wonderful world of anime

Lo’ak: “historia is top tier”

Spider: “man fuck historia have you seen ANNIE AND MIKASA 😩”What can I say man loves him a strong woman

Kiri: “acro ace vibing with hange”

Boy’s oblivious as hell

omeone will flirt with him and 3 day later while he’s chilling in the lab he’ll go: “HOLY SHIT……THEY WERE FLIRTING WITH ME-”

The waifu one was based off these videos here

@hyperfixatedfandomer @naavispider @today-or-tumble

#avatar #fandom #avatarfanfic #spider socorro #avatarwayofthewater #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #headcanon #avatar loak #kiri avatar #norm spellman #miles soccoro #miles spider socorro #spider soccoro x reader #miles socorro x reader

[jkabbi]

bewitched | 01

╰┈➤summary: Former neighbors turned lovers, your enchanting romance with Jungkook takes a magical turn. A spell to protect him shapes your past, and now, as a flower shop owner, an unexpected reunion brings buried secrets to light. Past and present collide in a captivating tale of love and mystery.

╰┈➤pairing: jungkook x reader (f)

╰┈➤genre: cf2l, fluff, angst, magic au

╰┈➤warnings: just cursing and salem being a menance. also, jungkook hot ass back

word count. 8.4k

╰┈➤note; hi! this is my first fanfic and i was very nervous about publishing it. i had this idea for a while and i need it to share it. the fic has some touches of my favorite series (sabrina the teenage witch) but the plot is different and the characters (apart from salem).

alsoo, english isn’t my first language so writing this was a challenge but i hope its okay ;)

and thats all, i really wish u enjoy it and please be nice, this is my first time and im scared😭😭

next.

series masterlist

You consistently gravitated towards a wardrobe painted in familiar tones and patterns – greens, browns, blues, and yellows – with a penchant for clothing adorned by botanical or floral designs.

Yoongi used to make fun of you for it, although there was never a day that he didn't tell you that you looked good.

It was difficult to explain but your affinity for the colors could only be explained by your abilities.

Since you were little, you used to spend days in the sun in the grass, surrounded by trees and grasslands.

You loved playing with the butterflies that flew around or watching the birds that sang and flew freely. You used to talk to the fish that swam through the rivers or to the rabbits who hid in their burrows.

Your obsession with plants also did not diminish with the passage of time; Always worried that the flowers in your aunt's garden were well cared for—including the plants of other neighbors around—you used to water them, sing to them, and prune them.

Surely that obsession guided you to own your own flower shop.

You also used to have great pride in having so much knowledge of them, especially when you were a little girl, since you used to help the ladies in your neighborhood with their plants, giving them advice and tips to take care of them.

Especially one, who was your neighbor next door.

Mrs. Jeon was a pleasant woman, with pretty features and very affectionate towards you.

She was a housewife and had two children; Junghyung and Jungkook. Although you didn't interact much with them.

You still remembered the day the Jeons moved into the house next door.

It was summer and you were returning from your adventures in the forest near the neighborhood, where you talked to the small animals and encouraged green life to grow.

When you turned onto your street, you could see a large moving truck in the house next to yours. Curious, you arrived at your front yard and watched as the movers walked in and out of the house with furniture and boxes.

Before you could watch a family get out of a family car, your aunt Binna called you from the entrance to go take a shower for lunch.

Reluctantly, you left, not before taking a look back.

Years later and you still have the same feeling of warmth that you received every time you remembered the past.

“Why are you smiling at the shovel?”

That's where your memory lane ends. Behind you was Yoongi, who had a small philodendron in his arms.

“Why couldn't I smile at the shovel?” you retorted, leaving the shovel on the counter and sitting up.

Yoongi chuckled, shrugging casually. “I've always known you have a few screws loose. Feel free to continue charming the shovel.”

Mirroring his smile, you quipped, “Thanks for the endorsement, my esteemed companion. You'll be the honored guest at our shovel-themed wedding.”

Setting the plant by the large window, Yoongi fetched his water sprayer from his apron pocket. “I feel truly appreciated,” he replied, misting the green leaves.

From the spacious wooden counter, you opened your laptop, checking the latest email – an order for an outdoor wedding floral arrangement.

“We've got another order,” you informed from your seat.

“For what occasion?” Yoongi abandoned the sprayer, approaching curiously.

“A wedding,” you replied, studying the details.

“Another one?” Your friend leaned beside you.

You shifted for him to read the screen. “At least they're giving us four months," you nodded.

“And the payment is good,” you added. “Our end-of-year getaway might happen after all.”

Yoongi smiled beside you as you bounced with excitement. It might not be a lavish affair, but you cherished the yearly trip with Yoongi and his partner to a quiet seaside town.

A serene ambiance enveloped the place, with only a handful of individuals, and in winter, it turned into a magical haven.

(It was also a place full of magic, but that was a detail that you left hidden)

“Well, in any case, we should celebrate,” Yoongi stood up, heading towards the door to switch the sign from open to closed.

You stretched in your seat and agreed. “What's on the agenda for today? I was thinking of bringing some cakes from Jimin's favorite bakery for our movie night.”

“Oh, about that..." Yoongi hesitated, “Jimin texted me. He's inviting a friend from his college days to join us tonight. Is that okay? I mean, I know you're not a fan of meeting new people, and if you prefer, I can suggest postponing the gathering to tomorrow.”

Taking the broom, you looked at Yoongi affectionately. “It's fine, Yoongs. If he's Jimin's friend, I'm sure I'll get along with him.”

Worry etched Yoongi's expression. “Are you sure? I mean, in the hierarchy of friendships, you come first. Jimin could easily rearrange his plans for us tonight and meet his friend tomorrow.”

Giggling, you enjoyed seeing how much Yoongi cared. “Don't worry. I'm a big girl. I can handle Jimin's college buddies.”

Yoongi smiled in relief. “Alright, but do let me know if you feel uncomfortable or anything.”

“Okey dokey,”you said, raising your palm.

“Okey dokey,” Yoongi replied, giving you a high-five.

The relentless July sun bore down on your head.

Frustrated by the forgotten hat at home, you silently headed to the bakery.

After buying Jimin's favorite cakes —a mixture capable of putting you in a diabetic coma—you headed towards your friends' apartment, which was a few blocks away.

Your friends' neighborhood was your favorite place to visit.

It was a residential area, which was always in perfect condition.

Grand and expansive, the houses stood adorned with enchanting gardens—a sight that never failed to captivate you. Each residence was meticulously maintained, but it was a particular house that unfailingly left you in awe. A colonial masterpiece, it boasted a white facade adorned with vibrant red tiles. Cascading vines adorned the balcony, reaching down to the floor in a display of elegance. What truly set it apart was the magnificent garden, a vibrant canvas of fiery-hued flowers and exquisite sculptures. It spoke volumes about the refined taste of the person fortunate enough to call it home.

Having successfully banished any lingering awe, you reached the enchanting street where your friends resided. Courtesies exchanged with the concierge, you gracefully entered the awaiting elevator, confidently selecting the sixth floor with a soft chime resonating in the enclosed space.

Underneath your composed exterior, a subtle current of nervous anticipation flowed.

It wasn't a matter of feeling overwhelmed by strangers; rather, your unease stemmed from a lack of familiarity with personal social interactions, even though you navigated such dynamics daily in your professional life.

Your inclination leaned toward maintaining a small, close-knit circle of friends, an approach that steered you away from embracing new connections. However, the person you were about to encounter wasn't just a mere stranger but an integral figure in Jimin's life. You were steadfast in your resolve not to burden Jimin with the dilemma of choosing between friends, an ardent desire to avoid becoming a source of disappointment.

Driven by the profound aversion to letting down your friends, you made a conscious decision to present a facade of normalcy for the impending meeting. It was a commitment to navigate through the evening with an air of ease, recognizing that, in the grand tapestry of life, this was merely a single night – a challenge that, with resilience, you believed you could gracefully overcome.

As you reached the designated floor, you traversed the pristine, white hallway, and with a gentle knock, you announced your arrival at the penultimate door. After a brief pause, the door swung open, revealing Jimin's golden locks.

“____!” he exclaimed, “I'm thrilled you could make it!”

A wide smile graced your face. “It's wonderful to see you too. I brought some pastries.”

Jimin reciprocated the smile. “If I weren't gay, I'd definitely kiss you!”

Amused, you laughed and stepped into their apartment. The ambiance of Jimin and Yoongi's residence exuded a youthful yet elegant charm, reflecting both your best friend's personality and that of his partner.

“Come on, Yoongi is busy preparing some meat on the balcony,” the blonde guided you.

“Ah, you've made it,” Yoongi greeted. “I thought you'd be melting in this heat.”

You snorted, “Don't even mention it. I absorbed the last rays of the day's sun on my way here.”

“I offered to pick you up by car,” Yoongi scolded, brandishing his grill knife.

You playfully dismissed him with a wave of your hand. “I know, I know. But I didn't want to distract you, and besides, I enjoy the walk. It adds a magical touch to the whole experience.”

“You're unbelievably stubborn,” Yoongi teased.

To that, you simply shrugged your shoulders, embracing your determined nature.

“What's the heated discussion about?” Jimin interjected, holding a couple of beer cans.

“How intolerable this brat can be,” Yoongi grumbled.

Jimin chuckled, extending a can towards you. You graciously accepted, and the blonde headed to his boyfriend, delivering the other can.

“By the way, Yoongles mentioned you invited a friend from college,” you remarked.

Jimin settled beside you. “Oh, yes, I apologize for not informing you earlier. I know you're not a fan of mingling with strangers, but Yoongi assured me everything is fine.”

You nodded. “No need to worry; I'm perfectly fine with it.”

Jimin visibly relaxed. “Great! You don't have to stress about anything. My friend is not only nice but also incredibly funny.”

Smiling, you inquired, “Were you two very close friends?”

Jimin reclined in his chair, looking at you with evident happiness.

“The connection we shared was extraordinary. Despite his initial shyness, he gradually transformed into a popular figure. Sadly, we lost touch after graduating, and a year ago, he embarked on a global adventure. Now, he's back,” Jimin revealed, his eyes reflecting the depth of their friendship.

“That's truly wonderful. I've always dreamed of an extensive journey myself,” you shared.

Jimin nodded, disclosing, “I followed his captivating journey through his Instagram. His photography gained significant acclaim.”

“Photography, you say?” you inquired.

“Yes, even though his academic focus was in computer science,” Jimin explained, sipping his beer.

“That's remarkable. I'm genuinely happy to hear that his life has taken such a positive turn,” you remarked.

Jimin's emotions seemed to shift. “He's been through a lot, and witnessing his growth brings me immense joy.”

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang, prompting Jimin to leap up.

“It must be him!”

“He appears quite excited.” You noted, then turned to your friend, who was occupied with browning the meat.

“Yes, Jimin told me that his friend had a crisis and that's why he left for a year. Apparently he's a good guy and you know how Jimin is, too sensitive with those he loves.”

“Jimin has been an exceptional friend. I consider myself fortunate to have crossed paths with him,” you expressed sincerely.

A look of profound affection from Yoongi reinforced the warmth of the bond you shared with both of them.

“He's equally delighted to have you in his life, Bub,” Yoongi assured, a sentiment that brought a genuine smile to your face. In a life where you consciously kept your circle compact, the presence of Yoongi and Jimin proved to be the most precious and enriching.

In the midst of your conversation with Yoongi, the imminent return of Jimin momentarily slipped your mind. The air was filled with a blend of voices, among which Jimin's curiosity stood out.

“It's very quiet living here! Are you planning to look for something similar?” You heard Jimin’s voice.

However, the response was drowned out as the balcony door swung open with a resonant creak. Gathering mental fortitude, you adorned your best smile in anticipation.

“Hi, I’m…” you couldn't finish your sentence because you froze.

As you faltered in your attempt to introduce yourself, a sudden surge of paralysis gripped you, freezing your words on the precipice. The room hung suspended in a disconcerting silence, amplifying the tumult within. The boundary between jest and reality blurred, leaving you grappling with a maelstrom of emotions – the impulse to scream, the yearning to shed tears, and an inexplicable urge to escape. Your body, however, betrayed you, caught in a rigid state, joints locked, breath arrested, mirroring the stillness of your heart.

Swift to recognize your distress, Yoongi deftly intervened, redirecting the unfolding awkwardness.

“Hello! I'm Yoongi, Jimin's partner,” he declared, striding purposefully towards the newcomers. To diffuse the palpable tension, he continued, “And this is my best friend, ____,” punctuated by a subtle nod from you.

The newcomers responded with a tentative smile, their composure visibly unsettled. The girl, attuned to her boyfriend's wandering gaze on your figure, diplomatically interjected.

“Hello! I'm Jiwoo, Jungkook's fiancée,” she proclaimed with an air of gentle formality. The weight of the term "fiancée" lingered, resonating deeply in your thoughts.

Jeon Jungkook has a fiancée.

Jimin orchestrated the seating arrangement, placing them beside you. In this surreal juncture, Jungkook introduced himself, his voice an echoing remembrance from the past. Summoning the courage to meet his gaze for the first time since his arrival, you found your breath arrested by the sight of his face, an unsettling pause enveloping the room.

Standing before you was a man whose stature surpassed your recollection, a towering presence accentuated by his impressive height and robust frame. Cascading down his shoulders, his once-familiar dark hair now framed a countenance marked by the passage of time. The revelation of an intricate tapestry of tattoos adorning his arm became apparent, unveiled by the sleeves of his short black t-shirt.

Yet, it was the constancy of his gaze that struck the most profound chord within you. Despite the exchange of words with Jimin, his doe-eyed stare remained unwavering, anchoring your attention in an unsettling and unwelcome connection.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, unable to endure another second in the shared space where their gazes lingered, you gracefully excused yourself. A swift retreat led you to the refuge of the bathroom, seeking solace within its walls as the echoes of their continued scrutiny lingered in your wake.

As your anxiety reached a fever pitch, its palpable effects reverberated in the environment. The handwash faucet, seemingly responding to your heightened state, unexpectedly opened by itself, and the bathroom window flapped vigorously, propelled by an unforeseen gust of wind.

With your heart pounding relentlessly in your chest, you managed to slide down the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, seeking solace on the floor. The overwhelming pressure pushed you into a state of vulnerability.

Recalling the advice from Aunt Yoon's lessons, you instinctively covered your ears with your hands and shut your eyes, resting your head on your knees. Familiar voices echoed in your mind, guiding you to find composure amid the storm of emotions.

In an attempt to regain control, you focused on slow, deliberate breaths. As you exhaled, you directed your attention to the bathroom light. With a graceful sweep of your hand, you extinguished its glow, enveloping yourself in complete darkness, except for the soft illumination seeping through the window.

Within this shadowed cocoon, you conjured a small halo of light with your hands, orchestrating its gentle movements. This newfound distraction allowed you to redirect your focus, creating intricate animal shapes within the luminous halo.

Gratitude welled up as the calming effects of this self-imposed light show permeated your senses, coaxing your pulse back to a more manageable rhythm. Amidst the mental whining for teleportation powers, a shadow beneath the door brought you back to reality.

A delicate knock followed, the sound reverberating through the bathroom.

“Are you okay, Bub?” It was Yoongi.

Contemplating your next move, you acknowledged the inevitability of leaving the bathroom sanctuary. With a sigh of resignation, you rose to your feet and opened the bathroom door, prepared to face the outside world once more.

In the clarity of the room, your friend's worried expression was evident.

“Yes,” you managed to respond, your voice carrying a subtle tremor.

Observing your condition, Yoongi's skepticism lingered, although he refrained from pressing the matter further.

“I don't feel very well. I suspect it was something I ate. Can you excuse me to Jimin and his guests? I don't want to appear rude,” you admitted, attempting to convey sincerity despite the weakness in your words.

Yoongi maintained a neutral expression, nodding in acknowledgment. “I'll go get my keys. Wait for me here.”

Your immediate protest burst forth, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “No! I'm sorry, but I believe it's better for me to go alone. It's not too late, and the fresh air might alleviate my discomfort.”

Raising his eyebrows, your friend expressed concern, “Are you sure you're okay? Should I take you to the hospital?”

Offering a reassuring thumbs-up, you dismissed the trembling in your hands. “Everything is fine; I just feel a little dizzy and tired.”

Before Yoongi could interject, Jimin's voice echoed from outside. “Go,” you urged tensely, “I'll be fine. Just excuse me from Jimin.”

A complex array of emotions played across your friend's face, showcasing his inner struggle. After a few contemplative seconds, he sighed. “Okay, go, but be careful. Let me know when you arrive, and if you feel unwell, don't hesitate to call.”

Embracing him briefly, you departed the apartment swiftly, propelled by a sense of urgency that matched the pace of your footsteps.

With a hasty nod to the doorman, you left the haven of your friends' neighborhood, exhaling a sigh of relief. Under the cloak of night, you found solace in the anonymity it granted, allowing a cathartic scream of frustration to escape into the open air.

Unmindful of the sidelong glances from passersby, you surrendered to the maelstrom of emotions within. The night became a silent confidant to your inner turmoil, and the unbridled tears mirrored the tempest of feelings that engulfed you.

Despite knowing you should control yourself, especially since today's forecast didn't include torrential rain, you ignored this. You didn't bother hiding your magic, which triggered a downpour the moment you left Jimin's apartment.

Facing the reality of your evasive tendencies, you couldn't deny the stark truth about your emotional susceptibilities, a trait often criticized by Aunt Yoon as a vulnerability. In your solitude, your tear-streaked face and swollen, reddened eyes painted a vivid portrait of vulnerability—a deviation from familial expectations. Yet, in this nocturnal moment, it was only the gaze of strangers that bore witness to your emotional upheaval.

As you reclined in the bathtub, contemplating the unexpected encounter with Jungkook, a whirlwind of emotions engulfed you. Surprisingly, Salem, your usually mischievous cat, lay perched on the bath chair, radiating an uncharacteristic air of understanding – a stark departure from his typical penchant for mockery.

It dawned on you that Salem was privy to the intricacies of your history with Jungkook, intimately aware of the emotions that resurfaced during the encounter. His unspoken support, though unexpected, held a unique depth, a testament to the unbreakable bond between you and your feline confidant.

With a deep sigh, you decided to share more details with Salem, letting your feelings spill out like water from a broken dam. “I never imagined he would come back into my life. Not after all this time,” you confessed, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

Salem listened intently, his green eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. “Life has a funny way of surprising us,” he mused, his tail swaying gently.

You nodded. “I just wish I could have been more composed when I saw him. Instead, I froze like a deer caught in headlights and ran away.”

The cat brushed against your arm, a gesture of reassurance. “It happens to the best of us. Emotions are messy, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

You couldn't argue with that. Jungkook's presence had stirred up a whirlwind of memories, both happy and painful. “I thought I had moved on,” you admitted, running your fingers through the water absentmindedly. “But seeing him again brought everything back.”

Salem, ever the sage advisor, offered his perspective. “Moving on doesn't mean forgetting. It means learning to live with the memories without letting them control you.”

His words resonated with you, providing a sliver of clarity amid the emotional turmoil. “I know, Salem. I need to face this too, even if it feels like reopening old wounds.”

“I'm surprised you accepted this so quickly,” your cat confessed.

You sighed slowly, playing with the soap bubbles.

“I have to, apparently Jimin adores Jungkook. That means I'll have to run into him at least one more time,” you growled.

Salem laughed, throwing his head back showing his white fangs.

“You talk like it's strange that Jungkook is charming to everyone.”

You gave him a knife-sharp look. “Of course I know Jungkook is charming. I knew it from the first moment I saw him”

Your cat looked at you mockingly “I see that your jealousy is still active.”

You threw water at him, making him hiss at you.

“Careful with this beautiful fur, human girl!” Salem looked at himself, looking for any part of his body that was wet.

“I'm not jealous,” you replied.

“Yeah, of course,” your cat replied sarcastically. “As if you didn't suffer a mental breakdown every time Jungkook went to tutor that Cheerleader that you didn't like.”

You got up offended, spilling some water that overflowed onto the floor.

“For the love of Satan! Stop throwing water on the ground!”

You giggled but with a snap, you dried the wet floor without much difficulty.

“Better?”

Salem sighed irritably, but let it go. He knew that you were still affected by the events that occurred a few hours ago.

“I'm sorry,” you looked at him with your bright eyes, on the verge of tears. “It's just that I missed him so much and seeing him there was like my soul returning to my body.”

Salem nodded, his cat-like eyes focused on your trembling countenance. “I understand, although you must also remember that it's not the boy's fault that he hasn't seen you for almost ten years.”

You screeched in frustration. “I know! That's why I'm mad at myself." You clenched your fists. “I'm not being fair, I know.”

In seconds, hot tears of helplessness fell from your eyes.

You had cried so much that you felt like you were running dry, although you preferred to cry naked in your bathtub with your talking cat as a witness than cry like a loser in the streets with the pouring rain.

Salem nudged your hand with his head, a gesture that felt oddly comforting. A small smile played on your lips.

“I appreciate having you around,” you whispered gently. “Despite our occasional squabbles that resemble sibling rivalry, I find joy in having you as a part of my life.”

You and Salem remained in the bathroom, a peculiar duo bound by a history that transcended the ordinary human-pet relationship. The atmosphere softened, and Salem, with a twitch of his tail, broke the silence.

“You know, for a human, you're not half bad,” Salem teased, his green eyes glinting mischievously.

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, “And for a cat, you're surprisingly sentimental.”

Salem nudged your hand playfully, “Only for you, _____. But don't let it go to your head.”

You chuckled, grateful for the levity he brought to the moment. “I won't. So, any plans on how to deal with the Jungkook situation?”

Salem feigned contemplation, his tail swaying side to side. “Well, we could start with not throwing water on the floor every time you're annoyed.”

You laughed, “Fair enough. I'll work on that.”

As you began to drain the bathtub, Salem leaped down, pacing around the bathroom like he owned the place. “Remember, we're in this together, Human. I'm not letting you face the Jungkook dilemma alone.”

With a smirk, you replied, “Good to know, Cat. Teammates, right?”

“Teammates,” he affirmed, and as you stepped out of the bathroom, you couldn't help but appreciate the unique bond you shared with your sassy feline friend. Little did you know, the challenges ahead would only strengthen the unspoken understanding between you and Salem, making your friendship an unexpected source of strength in the face of life's unpredictable twists.

Indulging in an emotional outpour in the midst of a torrential downpour probably wasn't the wisest choice, and now you found yourself grappling with the repercussions of that impulsive decision.

Pain reverberated through your skull like an explosive symphony, each beat an agonizing pulse. Swollen to the point of incapacity, your eyes resisted attempts to open, trapped in the clutches of the affliction tormenting your body. A relentless cough seized you, each convulsion intensifying the already distressing situation.

The warmth radiating from your skin forewarned of an impending fever, threatening to pull you into the abyss of its debilitating embrace at any given moment. As discomfort layered upon discomfort, your physical state became an intricate tapestry of misery, weaving together the threads of throbbing pain, swollen eyes, and an unrelenting cough.

The incessant playback of ABBA's melodic tunes only intensified the predicament. Feeling utterly disheartened and shrouded in darkness, you impulsively struck your nightstand, yearning to silence the persistently chirpy alarm – a feat that proved elusive.

“Salem!” you bellowed in frustration, confident your feline companion was alert. Typically, at this hour, Salem reveled in observing the morning skirmishes between your neighbors, perched contentedly by the window. After a brief pause, you sensed the delicate touch of small paws on the wooden floor, followed by a graceful leap.

“What happened to your face?” inquired your concerned cat, gracefully traversing the expanse of the bed. Emitting a weary sigh, you replied, “What do you think?!” dripping with ironic exasperation. “Could you kindly put an end to the ABBA serenade? It's throbbing in my head.”

“I thought you'd never ask. I was on the verge of contemplating a window escape,” Salem quipped and a welcome hush settled in as the music ceased, leaving behind a palpable tranquility.

“Your appearance is rather dire,” mused your cat. “I'll venture into Binna's ancient cookbook, see if there's a remedy for your congestion and eyes.” With that, your feline companion gracefully exited the room, leaving you alone with the weight of your thoughts.

A peculiar sensation enveloped you, a departure from the serene routine you cherished. Yesterday's surreal events disrupted your tranquility, plunging you into an unexpected maelstrom. As stress mounted, the realization dawned: today, opening the store was an improbable feat. You resigned yourself to the inevitable task of informing Yoongi about your illness.

Contemplating calling him, you hesitated, anticipating his inevitable arrival at your apartment. After leaving you to your own devices yesterday, the gravity of recent events ensured he wouldn't let another moment elapse without seeking an explanation. You understood the futility of avoiding the impending conversation; Yoongi's familiarity with you meant evasion was a futile endeavor.

The internal conflict intensified. While you sought to shield your secrets, not for your sake but for the safety of those around you, memories surfaced of the last time an unwitting innocent had stumbled upon your hidden truths. The stakes were higher, and the delicate balance between disclosure and protection hung in the uneasy silence of your apartment.

The internal turmoil dissipated with a knock on your front door, a sure sign that it was Yoongi. Despite your initial inclination to feign slumber and play ignorant, you dismissed the unfairness of such tactics. Struggling against your physical discomfort, you made your way to the door, relying on muscle memory to navigate the lock on the first attempt.

“Hello,” you greeted him, your voice laced with drowsiness. As the silence lingered, your anxiety mounted. “Tell me you're Yoongi and not a stranger.”

Assured by his familiar voice, you sighed in relief when Yoongi confirmed his identity. "It's me, Daisy,” he reassured, but concern etched his features. “What happened to you?! Do you need help?”

Before you could dismiss his offer, Yoongi's hands gently grasped your shoulders, guiding you back into the apartment. “You should have told me you were like this!” he exclaimed, a mix of frustration and worry evident in his tone. “Go to bed, let me prepare some herbal water and soup.”

Attempting nonchalance, you responded, “It's okay. Salem is taking care of it,” the words slipping out without much thought. Heading towards your room, you realized Yoongi wasn't following.

“What's going on?” you questioned.

“How is Salem going to take care of that?” Yoongi pressed, seeking clarification.

In a quick mental scramble, you conjured an excuse. “You know I like to joke about Salem being almost like a person,” you explained, hoping he would attribute your words to the haze of illness. Yoongi relaxed slightly, accepting the explanation. “Okay, let's go,” he agreed, unknowingly stepping into a web of secrets and feigned normalcy.

You found solace in the eccentricity of your speech and demeanor, knowing that Yoongi rarely took your statements seriously. “I guess this is about last night,” he remarked, momentarily halting your steps.

“Uh, yeah, about that…” you hesitated, reaching your unkempt bed where Yoongi dutifully set about fixing the disarrayed bedding, tenderly covering you.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, opening your eyes just a sliver, the figure of your friend a bit blurred.

“Why?” he inquired, settling on the edge of the bed beside you.

“For being a lousy friend,” you confessed.

Yoongi chuckled. “Why do you think you're a lousy friend?”

A lingering silence enveloped the room as internal debate raged on. The decision to divulge or withhold weighed heavily on your mind, yet the fear of losing Yoongi eclipsed the burden of guilt.

“Last night,” you began, releasing a fraction of the truth.

“I can't say I don't care, but the truth is, I don't know what happened with you last night.”

Observing your uncertain expression, Yoongi placed his hand atop yours. “It's okay if you don't want to tell me, but if you need someone to share those things with, you know you have me.” His reassurance offered a comforting anchor in the tempest of secrets and unspoken words.

“It’s not that! It's just that…” you blurted out, grappling to organize your thoughts. “It's hard to tell you this.”

Yoongi's expression shifted to surprise. “Is it something bad? Although it hurts me a little to think that you can't tell me things.”

“No!” you blurted out again. “I mean, it's not a bad thing, but it is a secret—something I haven't shared with anyone. I can't leave you with that weight on your shoulders. I care about you deeply, and this is a very old personal issue of mine.”

Yoongi sighed, his touch on your hand offering a reassurance. “I understand that you have secrets and everything, but I need you to trust me. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Frustration welled up within you. You comprehended your friend's earnestness, and part of you yearned to unburden yourself, seeking refuge in his understanding like a vulnerable child. Yet, the weight of the secrets, particularly this one, loomed heavily.

“I trust you with my life,” you asserted firmly. “Don't ever think that I don't trust you. But this is delicate, and I don't want to put you in danger, okay? It's for your own good. I need you to understand.” Your hand found his, emphasizing the gravity of your words, seeking a connection that transcended spoken language in the complexity of shared trust and unspoken fears.

Yoongi's gaze lingered on the juncture where your hands met his. Your small, pale hands, adorned with various scars, each a testament to childhood mishaps, contrasting sharply with his own larger, slender fingers—resembling those of a pianist, unmarred by any blemish.

Having known you for about five years, Yoongi recalled his initial impression of you as a girl thrust into the adult world, seemingly vulnerable yet never to be underestimated. Physically unassuming, you harbored an indomitable strength within. Even on the brink of collapse, you seldom sought assistance, always striving to navigate challenges independently.

Your independence, strong will, and stubbornness were palpable, complemented by a warmth and genuine concern for your loved ones. Despite the tough exterior, Yoongi understood that you harbored a complex relationship with your family—a topic shrouded in silence, as if you had grown up in solitude.

Yoongi sighed, breaking the contemplative silence. “It's okay. I understand. But when you're ready, please tell me. Otherwise, I don't know how to help you, kiddo.” Despite your persistent self-reliance, he emphasized his commitment to ensuring your well-being.

The unspoken bond between you and Yoongi transcended mere friendship; it was a pact of mutual support, a promise that echoed in the intertwining of your hands—a connection that conveyed a shared understanding even in the face of undisclosed burdens.

Giving him a warm smile, you say, “I've got you, Yoongi. When the time's right, I'll spill all the beans. I Appreciate you rolling with the punches in my life and being the constant in all the chaos. You're my rock, Yoongi.”

A spark of anticipation ignites within you, and you can't help but feel a renewed sense of connection. You eagerly await the day when you can share your truths with Yoongi, not just because it's necessary, but because he's earned the right to know the intricacies of your heart. Until then, the unspoken bond between you two will continue to strengthen, paving the way for a future where your shared trust transcends the undisclosed burdens you carry.

The weight of the term "coward" bore down on you, a bitter truth you grappled with. In refusing your friends' invitations, you felt the sting of guilt, recognizing the unfairness of your actions. Yet, each declination seemed like a desperate attempt to shield them from the mysterious reality you were living.

Deep down, you were keenly aware that Yoongi harbored suspicions about your enigmatic secret and your reluctance to join gatherings since Jungkook's return. But so far, he chose to maintain a respectful silence, understanding the complexity of your situation. You knew that inevitably, you would have to face them or reveal the truth, a daunting prospect that loomed on the horizon of your clandestine reality.

Lost in contemplation, you found solace in the transformative touch of your magic on a calla lily's withered leaves. The visual metamorphosis from faded yellow to vivid green offered a momentary escape from the turmoil within.

The idea of visiting a neglected park to tend to the forsaken plants flickered in your thoughts. However, your recent weeks had dwindled into a mundane routine—shuttling between your apartment and work with little room for spontaneity.

Salem, your feline confidant, dismissed your cautious approach, deeming you a “scared chicken.” Yet, Salem wasn't navigating the unpredictable streets, fearing an accidental reunion with a former love entwined with his fiancée.

Seeking refuge in the familiar, your nights were painted with Gilmore Girls marathons, a shared ritual with Salem. In this routine, you found a fragment of normalcy, although Salem's affinity for reality shows, particularly the extravagantly dramatic ones, wasn't lost on you—typical of a devoted Jersey Shore fan.

On one of those nights, there you were, clad in bunny pajamas and cocooned beneath a soft, pink blanket. Salem, your feline companion, lounged nearby, sporting cucumbers over his eyes as he reclined in an armchair atop a plush pillow.

“I don't understand why Rory makes such a big deal about being with that cute boy,” Salem remarked, his feline skepticism directed at the TV screen.

You sighed, your attention captivated by the unfolding drama on the television. “Well, Rory is classified as a good girl, and he's a bad boy, as they say,” you attempted to rationalize the protagonist's actions.

Salem sighed dramatically, almost dislodging one of the cucumbers from his eyes. “These children today with their labels. That's not a bad boy! Having a bad personality and doing unexpected things is not being bad. In my human era, I used to set houses on fire for fun.”

You couldn't help but glance at your cat, suppressing a laugh. “Salem, the difference is that he simply behaves badly socially. You, on the other hand, wanted to dominate the world.”

Offended, Salem shifted, grabbing a corn cap and defiantly placing it in his mouth. “What's wrong with wanting to take over the world? I was honestly doing all you vapid humans a favor.”

You sighed, fully aware that attempting to alter your cat's worldview was a futile endeavor. Despite his occasional moral quirks, his loyalty to you remained unwavering, even if his ethical compass was a bit unconventional.

Salem chimed in, dismissing the idea of Rory choosing her boyfriend over the 'bad boy.' “Anyway, she'd be stupid to choose her idiot boyfriend over the 'bad boy,'” Salem quipped, offering his feline commentary on the TV drama.

Casually grabbing a handful of popcorn, you nodded in agreement. “I can't deny that. Jess is very charming.”

Salem burst into laughter. “You always fall for the character like him,” he teased, capturing the essence of your penchant for captivating personalities.

You shrugged, acknowledging Salem's astute observation. Personality, indeed, held considerable weight in your assessments. However, a somber undertone enveloped the room as your cat uttered, “Although Jungkook was a different story.”

Salem, quick to rectify any potential discomfort, clarified, “I mean, Jungkook wasn't a bad boy, but he was very charming.”

A bittersweet smile played on your lips. Salem's words rang true – Jungkook was undeniably charming. In fact, “charming” had been his nickname during your past relationship. His allure extended beyond his striking physical features to his dark, captivating eyes. Yet, it was his multifaceted personality that truly distinguished him. Jungkook, a gentleman and a hopeless romantic, possessed a charisma that left an indelible mark.

However, the charm didn't diminish his playful side – a penchant for competition and teasing that brought both joy and occasional exasperation. The memories of those moments played like a silent film, evoking a mix of nostalgia and the inevitable ache that accompanied thoughts of Jungkook.

Your talking cat, astutely perceiving the direction of your thoughts, chose to intervene. “It's late. My dream of beauty awaits me,” he declared, nonchalantly removing the cucumbers from his eyes, as if signaling the end of his entertainment.

You absentmindedly nodded in response. “Hey brat, you should go to sleep. Your dark circles are getting worse every day,” your cat stated, taking a few steps into his designated space.

As always, your cat's acerbic comments carried an underlying truth. Your dark circles, silent witnesses to your restless nights, had indeed become more pronounced. It wasn't that you were resistant to the idea of sleep; it was just that ever since the unexpected encounter with Jungkook, restful slumber had eluded you. Moreover, an inexplicable fatigue had settled into your bones, leaving your body more exhausted than usual.

The nightly escapades with Gilmore Girls and Salem's company, while comforting, couldn't completely mask the deeper anxieties that lingered beneath the surface. As you stood on the precipice between wakefulness and dreams, the echoes of the past and the uncertainties of the present converged, casting shadows that manifested as visible signs on your weary face.

Yoongi had mentioned his and Jimin's trip to his parents' house, but it only fully registered today when he sent a message reminding you that, for the day, you would be the sole occupant of the store.

Luckily, you were already en route, having woken up ahead of the alarm. Mornings held a special allure for you, a time when the world seemed brimming with possibilities. The birds serenaded from the trees, the plants stirred to life, eager for a morning sunbath, and people bustled about, preparing for their day.

Fortune favored you, as the day unfolded with a surprising calmness, sparing you from a hectic workload. Capitalizing on the tranquil atmosphere, you decided to close up shop early and head home, intending to invite your cat for a leisurely outing.

Salem, seemed overjoyed at the prospect, his daily entertainment having temporarily moved away—the neighbors next door.

You adorned yourself in a thin dress adorned with vibrant flower patterns, the perfect attire for basking in the sunny day. A diligent application of sunscreen followed, a necessary precaution for your sensitive skin.

However, Salem's animal instincts prevented him from roaming freely without a leash. Although not a conventional cat, his unpredictable nature necessitated a careful approach. As you prepared to take him out, the anticipation of a sunlit excursion filled the air, promising a serene interlude amidst the routine of your day.

“Do you prefer that we go to the park near the center or the one near this sector?” you inquired, capitalizing on the deserted streets to engage in a conversation with Salem.

Salem's tail swayed as he noticed bugs fluttering near some flowers. “Let's go to the one close to your friends' neighborhood. Let's take advantage of the fact that they're not in the city,” he responded absentmindedly.

Enthusiastically, you and your cat set off in that direction. The park near your friends' neighborhood held a special charm—beautiful, serene, and known for its delightful ice cream offerings.

Upon arrival, you witnessed the expansive park filled with families enjoying their leisure time. Opting to settle near the pet-friendly area, you and Salem joined the ranks of others with the same intention.

As you observed, puppies frolicked joyfully, engaging in playful antics, while cats gracefully navigated their designated climbing structures. Salem, for once, seemed poised for a predator's pursuit, his back raised and gaze fixed intently on the grass.

Seating yourself, you embraced the idyllic scene, the carefree interactions of pets mirroring the leisurely afternoon unfolding around you.

After a delightful stint at the pet-friendly section, you suggested to Salem that it was time for ice cream—an idea that sparked shared excitement. The ice cream stand in this park had a well-deserved reputation for its delightful treats.

As you traversed the park toward the exercise area, the ice cream cart came into view, attended by an elderly gentleman exuding warmth. “Hello,” you greeted. “Can you give me two ice cream cones, please?” You opted for the classic strawberry and vanilla combination, while Salem subtly indicated—keeping it hush-hush from the vendor—his preference for chocolate and cookie flavor.

Equipped with your chosen delights, both of you sought refuge from the heat under the shade in the nearby area.

“There are quite a few humans exercising,” Salem observed between licks of his ice cream, which you held out for him.

You nodded, your mouth occupied with the delectable treat. In the vicinity, exercise platforms hosted several people, likely part of a group that gathered for communal workouts. The gusty afternoon wind played its part, occasionally obstructing your view as you contended with strands of hair billowing into your face.

Amidst bites of ice cream and the distant hum of exercise enthusiasts, you and Salem reveled in the simple joy of a sunlit day, punctuated by the sweet indulgence of shared treats.

The tranquility surrounding you shattered abruptly when Salem, positioned next to you, nearly dropped his ice cream. “What happened to you?” you inquired in surprise, brushing strands of hair out of your face.

As your vision cleared, you observed your cat, seemingly paralyzed by something in his line of sight. Following his gaze, you discovered the source of his astonishment—a muscular figure executing pull-ups on some bars. However, your fortune took a turn for the worse as you recognized the specimen to be none other than Jungkook.

His sweaty back adhered to a tight black t-shirt, elevating the temperature on your cheeks. While you had always been aware of Jungkook's well-maintained physique, your mental image had been anchored in his teenage years, not this embodiment of masculinity.

“Damn,” you and Salem echoed simultaneously. As you continued to gawk, your grip faltered, leading to the unfortunate demise of your ice cream. Yet, your attention remained captivated by the man before you.

An involuntary reaction stirred between your legs—a sensation dormant for far too long. However, the enchantment was abruptly disrupted by the barking of a large dog nearby. Panic set in; you were with Salem, and despite his mischievous tendencies in his golden age, he remained a cat.

Swiftly scooping up your feline companion, you used your magic to clean the fallen ice cream with a single hand.

In a near sprint, you attempted to escape the scene swiftly, but your efforts were thwarted as the same barking dog bolted towards you at full speed. Closing your eyes in fear, you clutched Salem tightly to your chest, shielding him from potential harm.

“Fuckin-!” Salem's protest was muffled as you squeezed him even tighter. Panicking, you beseeched the approaching dog, “Oh, cute little dog! Good dog! Don't eat my cat, please!”

To your relief, instead of feeling sharp teeth, the dog leaped onto you, licking you eagerly and wagging its tail with unbridled joy. As you cautiously opened your eyes, you found the little dog gazing at you happily, devoid of any malevolent intentions.

Before you could identify the source of the new voice, the dog leapt off you. “I'm sorry! I promise he doesn't have any bad intentions; he's just very playful!” the owner explained.

“Don't worry…” you began, only to be interrupted as you locked eyes with your unexpected savior. “Oh, it's you!” Jungkook exclaimed with unusual excitement.

Struggling to respond, you found yourself once again speechless in his presence. Jungkook, unaware of your rigid demeanor, continued, “Sorry about my dog! He's still a puppy and tends to be playful.”

Feeling claws digging into your stomach, you silently cursed Salem. As Jungkook spoke, you attempted to break free from your frozen state. “Hi, um... sorry, it must be because of my cat.” You finally managed to speak, avoiding direct eye contact. “Don't worry, I did notice.”

Jungkook's smile was blindingly bright, leaving you momentarily stunned. “He's cute,” he remarked, pointing to your chest where Salem was concealed.

Suppressing a laugh at the irony, you agreed, “Yes, although he's not much of a dog lover.” You gestured towards Bam, who was curiously sniffing around “He’s cute too”

“He is. Although his size can be intimidating,” Jungkook commented with a smile.

Unable to resist, you inadvertently mirrored his smile. “How old is he?” you inquired, curiosity piqued. Bam, a Doberman with a sleek, dark coat, stood at a height reaching up to your belly. He exuded an air of elegance and grace.

Jungkook's response drew an astonished gasp from you, “Almost seven months. I know, it's the same reaction every time I mention his age.”

A laugh bubbled from you as you adjusted Salem, his curious little head popping up from your arm. “Hello, little friend,” Jungkook greeted your feline companion warmly, fostering a comforting warmth within you.

You introduced Salem, playfully mentioning, “Unlike Bam, let's say he's not very young”.

It wasn't exactly a lie – you had known Salem since you were a baby, and according to your aunts, Salem had been a cat for quite a long time.

Jungkook extended his tattooed hand towards you, curiosity dancing in his doe-like eyes. “Can I pet him?” The sudden closeness caught you off guard, but you managed to reply, “Sure. He's not aggressive.”

Jungkook's gentle strokes on your cat's dark fur left Salem completely enchanted, purring happily in your arms. “Apparently, he likes affection,” Jungkook observed, his eyes locking onto yours.

You smiled shyly, your pulse quickening. “No. He only likes you,” you shared, attempting to bring a lightness to the situation. “He doesn't like people very much. Hopefully, he can put up with Yoongi.”

Jungkook grinned at your words, and before temptation could take hold, you squeezed your cat and smoothed down your dress. “I think it's time to go,” you said casually, concealing any nervousness. “It was nice seeing you.”

Surprisingly, Jungkook seemed momentarily taken aback by your swift departure. “Oh sure!” His cheerful tone dimmed slightly. “I'm sorry about what happened with Bam. I hope you had a good afternoon.”

You nodded shyly, uncertain if another encounter with the sweaty yet undoubtedly attractive Jungkook would be good for your heart.

“Well, I guess I'll see you on Wednesday?” he suggested, subtly trying to delay your departure.

“On Wednesday?” you asked with a feigned innocence.

Jungkook chuckled. “I guess Yoongi hasn't told you yet. We're having a barbecue with friends to celebrate my return to the country. It's at my friend's house where I'm staying, just a few minutes from here.” He shared this with a shy smile, “You're invited; I hope you can make it.”

Despite the initial inclination to decline, Jungkook's charm left you powerless to resist his hopeful gaze. “Okay,” you agreed after a moment, pulling your gaze away from his eyes to survey the surroundings. “I'll see if I can come.”

Jungkook's smile persisted, seemingly undeterred by your attempt at resistance. “I'll look forward to it. It's going to be a blast.”

You chuckled nervously, “Don't set your expectations too high.”

Jungkook, still smiling, leaned in slightly and said, “Hey, it's going to be a fun time on Wednesday. Good food, good vibes. You gotta be there!”

You chuckled, “I'll think about it. Can't promise anything, though.”

Jungkook, with a playful grin, countered, “Come on, live a little. We didn't meet properly last time, but I think we'll get along. I already like your vibe, and I can see that Jimin and Yoongi adore you”

You raised an eyebrow, “My vibe, huh? Well, we'll see. No guarantees, though.”

Jungkook, keeping it light, gave a casual shrug, “Cool. Wednesday it is, then?”

Despite your initial resistance, Jungkook's carefree demeanor and magnetic aura prove to be a formidable combination. Succumbing to the easy flow of conversation and the genuine warmth he exudes, you find yourself nodding in agreement. “Sure, Wednesday it is,” you reply, trying to downplay the subtle thrill that creeps into your tone.

Jungkook's smile widens, a playful glint in his eyes. “Awesome! Can't wait to hang out. It's going to be a good time, I promise.”

Internally shaking your head at your unexpected change of heart, you shoot back, “Don't get too excited! I'm just there for the food.”

As you walked away, the realization dawned upon you – you were in deep trouble. The echoes of Jungkook's laughter lingered in your mind, and the casual commitment to a Wednesday gathering now felt like the first step into a maze of unpredictable emotions. Somehow, in that lighthearted exchange, you couldn't shake off the feeling that the road you were on might lead to a place where your carefully constructed emotional boundaries would be tested.

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