#work has been kicking me in the ass but I'm going to find some time to work on it soon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

azzo0 · 7 months

Text

His World

Summary: Bakugo's teenage daughter has been acting suspicious for a while. He keeps shrugging it off until he finds her cuddled up on the couch with another boy. Let's just say he's less than happy to find out his daughter is dating Kaminari's son.

Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

tw's: A lil angsty

Not proofread. Go easy on me <3

You yawned, scratching your bedhead, as you walked into the kitchen to see your husband, Katsuki, already making breakfast. You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, "Good morning.~"

"Mornin', beautiful," He replied, flipping a pancake onto a plate. It was fluffy, just the way you and Mizuki liked it. He turned around and pressed a kiss to your lips. Your good morning kiss. You smiled, pecking his cheek.

You took the plates with the pancakes out into the dining room, Katsuki following behind, holding a tray with cups of coffee. You put the dishes on the table and opened your mouth to call your seventeen-year-old daughter down for dinner but stopped when she entered the kitchen, hopping on one foot as she put on her socks.

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. Surprisingly, Mizuki had been waking up early for a few weeks now. Previously, you had to turn off all her alarms for her and aggressively shake her awake.

"Morning, mama, papa." She greeted as she pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail, crimson eyes shifting up to you and Katsuki.

"Someone's wakin' up surprisingly early." Bakugo commented, "Now come on, food's runnin' cold."

"Oh. I have to be at school early today." Mizuki took her school bag from a chair, throwing it over her shoulder. Bakugo furrowed his eyebrows, watching his daughter run out of the room in a hurry.

"Oi, get yer ass back here! You ain't leaving without breakfast!" He yelled, his head snapping at you, asking you to say something. You shook your head, raising your hands up. Only a Bakugo could tame a Bakugo.

"I'll get somethin' from outside, chill!" Mizuki yelled from the front door.

Bakugo looked at you, baffled, "She's got the time to eat from out but not to eat from home?!"

"Maybe she's not in the mood for pancakes." You replied, taking a seat at the dining table, pulling a plate towards yourself, and pushing another towards Katsuki.

You smiled, watching him pout as he chewed. He was just like the Katsuki you met in high school, yet he was so different. His muscular arms and torso were littered with little scars, with one big scar on his chest. It was proof of years of hero work. His hair was slowly starting to grey. When he put his head in your lap, you liked moving his hair around, counting the little grey hair.

"D'you think she doesn't like my cooking?" Bakugo asked.

"You know that's not the case, Katsuki." You give him a pointed look, "You don't have to be upset about it."

"I'm not upset..." He huffed. You sighed, smiling at him. He clearly was upset. You were going to add that she might have met a special someone, so that could be one reason why she was in such a hurry, but decided to keep it to yourself since you knew the reaction your husband would have. He'd flip the table over.

"What if she's seein' someone?" He narrowed his eyes, his fist clenching on the table. You reached over, putting your hand over his closed fist. His hand relaxed, lying flat underneath yours.

"It's possible. She's growing up, it's expected."

"I'm sure she's got better things to do than bothering with some lame-ass guy." He confidently shoved a piece of pancake in his mouth. A drop of sweat appeared on your forehead at his sudden change in demeanour.

Katsuki's suspicions of Mizuki going out with someone did not stop there.

He'd just come home from patrol, sweaty and tired, hoping to take a nice long bath and then eat dinner and spend some time with his two favourite girls. He stepped inside the house, kicking his dirty boots off and padding into the living room.

He found you on the couch, your face lighting up when you saw him. You hopped off the couch to give him a fat kiss on the cheek, "Hi, babe. How was work?"

"Ass."

You laughed, wiping a bit of grease from his cheek with a thumb, "I've already run the bath for you."

You caught a naughty glint in his eye when he turned you around, hugging you from the back, his chin on your head, stubble scratching your scalp, "Join me."

"No."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Mizuki's home, Katsuki." You rolled your eyes.

"It's just a bath." He teased.

You stepped away from him, giving his chest a playful push, "We both know it will end up being not just a bath."

"Mama!" Mizuki rushed into the living room, holding a hairbrush in hand, wearing a pretty blue dress you got her a while back, "Mama, can you do my hair?" Her eyes fell on Bakugo standing behind you, brow arched skywards. She visibly froze.

"Where are you going?" He asked, noting how she was dressed a little nicer than usual.

"With friends, duh," Mizuki replied, handing you the hairbrush. You brushed her hair, putting up into a neat bun for her.

"Thanks, Mum."

"Oi, don't forget to leave your location on and-" Bakugo began but got cut off by Mizuki.

"And don't forget to be home before ten, blah, blah, blah. I know. You need to stop worryin', Pops." Mizuki looked up at her father as she put her heels on.

"I'd stop worrying if you weren't dressed like you're going on a damn date," Bakugo said.

Mizuki cleared her throat, rolling her eyes. "Well, I'm not. Can I leave now?"

Bakugo moved aside, letting her leave, eyes not moving from the door until it was slammed shut. "I'm tellin' ya, she's seein' someone. And I'm fuckin' finding out who it is-" He made a move to leave after her, stopping when you put a hand on his arm.

"Let her go, Katsuki. If she finds out you're stalking her, she's not going to trust you with anything."

"But what if-"

"You wouldn't want her sneaking out and lying to you, would you?"

"No..." He mumbled.

"Exactly. Now go hop in the bath, stinky." You smacked his arm. He gave you a devilish smirk and threw you over his shoulder.

"You're gettin' in with me. Mizu isn't home now."

It was the weekend, and you were out doing groceries with Katsuki. You watched your items get scanned at the counter, making sure you guys had everything you needed. You reached to carry some of the grocery bags, getting your hand slapped away by Katsuki. He carried them all in one go, his muscles flexing in the process.

Before going back home, he got Mizuki iced tea since he knew she liked it. He parked the car in the garage, helping you carry the grocery bags inside.

"That's the last of it." He grunted, dropping a bag on the floor by the shoes.

"I'll go ask Mizuki to help me put stuff in the fridge." You said, removing your shoes. You went into the living room, freezing when you saw Mizuki sound asleep on top of a boy you recognised. Kyoka and Denki's son, Ryuu. He had plum-coloured hair, just like Kyoka.

"Oi, Mizuki, come help ya ma with the groceries," Katsuki yelled, walking into the living room. He saw you standing by the couch and came to stand beside you, looking down to see Mizuki asleep with her head on Ryuu's chest. His yelling made Mizuki stir a little before she nuzzled into his neck and went back to sleep.

You glanced at Bakugo, watching his jaw clench, his upper lip twitch in fury. You could swear you saw steam blowing out of his ears. Before you could stop him, he stomped up to the two, "WAKE THE FUCK UP!" He yelled.

Startled, Mizuki sat up upright, falling off the couch. Ryuu opened his eyes wide in confusion. He looked down at Mizuki and then at Dynamight towering over him with deadly crimson eyes that promised to skin him alive. Ryuu gulped, his face draining of colour.

"Katsuki, don't-"

Katsuki grabbed the boy's T-shirt, pulling him off the couch. Ryuu raised his hands defensively, trying to step away, but Katsuki had a death grip on his T-shirt, "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

"Dad, leave him alone!" Mizuki tried pushing Katsuki's hand away. Katsuki ignored her, simply pulling Ryuu closer and narrowing his eyes at him.

"What is your relationship with him, Mizuki?" He growled, still not looking at her, giving Ryuu a death glare instead.

"Katsuki, leave him alone. How about we all sit and talk about it calmly-"

"I ain't talkin' calmly!" Bakugo yelled, scaring Ryuu. "Who the fuck does he think he is, trying to snuggle into Mizuki?!"

"Dad, can you please stop?!" Mizuki gave her father a firm push. The push had little impact on him, given he was built like a tree, but the flash of hurt in his eyes did not go unnoticed by you. Mizuki freed Ryuu out of Katsuki's grip, standing in front of him almost protectively, her hand intertwined with his. "As for your question, he is my boyfriend. What are you going to do about it?"

"Really, Mizuki. You're fuckin' joking." He glowered at Ryuu, his fists fuming, "You ain't datin' spark plug's son."

"Why do you have a problem with everything I do?!" Mizuki yelled, "I'm not a little girl anymore, Dad! You don't get to decide who I date and who I don't."

"You don't need to date some stupid boy. You know you're better than that!"

"Ryuu is not a stupid boy." Mizuki seethed through gritted teeth. She looked like she'd blast the house to bits if Katsuki said another word.

"I-I'll take my leave so you guys can talk. I'm sorry for the trouble I caused..." Ryuu dared to pat Mizuki's shoulder and glance up timidly at Katsuki. Katsuki took a step towards him but got stopped by your arm.

"You're breaking up with him right fucking now," Katsuki ordered.

"I am not!" Mizuki shouted, taking Ryuu's hand again, making him stay put. "What has he ever done to you?! Why do you have to act like he committed some crime? Ryuu is the most perfect and sweetest person I've met, unlike you. Why do you have a problem with everything?! When will you leave me be and stop pretending im five?! Gosh, I really fucking hate you."

Mizuki's chest moved up and down, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, staring at Katsuki, the air thick in between them. She glanced at you before she turned around with Ryuu, silently leaving the house with him.

Katsuki fell onto the couch, head thrown back, hand over his eyes. You silently sat beside him, putting a hand on his knee. He glanced down at his legs, a defeated look on his face. You cupped his cheek, making him look at you in the eye. You could see tears forming in his eyes, his nose red.

"She said she hates me." His voice cracked.

"Shh," you brought his face closer, kissing his eyebrow. "You know she doesn't mean it. She said it in the heat of the moment."

He let himself lay on top of you, nuzzling into your neck, arms wrapped around you. He wondered if this was karma for all the times he told his mother he hated her even though he didn't really mean it. He wondered if this was life slapping him in the face, pulling a reverse card on him.

"You remember how old we were when we started dating, Katsuki?" You asked, running hour fingers in his hair.

"Fifteen." He mumbled.

"Hm. Mizu's way older and more mature than we were back then."

"She's mature. Spark Plug's kid isn't" He propped up on his elbow, arguing back with you.

"Are you doing this because he's Denki's kid? He's a good kid, Katsuki. He didn't even argue back when you got mad at him. He's rational, and from what I've seen when Mizu brings her friends over, he's really shy and sweet, too."

"What if he's not good enough for her. What if he breaks her heart?" He tried reasoning. You smiled, cradling his face.

"She's got her big strong papa if he breaks her heart."

His head dipped low, pressing a long kiss onto your lips and then a little one in between your eyebrows. You switched positions, with you now lying on top of him, head on his chest, eyes shut. He kissed your hair, hand running up and down your back, deep in thought.

As he lay there, he thought of the time when he held newborn Mizuki in his arms for the first time, immediately falling in love with his little girl. The moment Mizuki was in his arms, he swore he would protect his daughter with his life. He recalled her first footsteps and her first word, 'Da!' He thought of the time when she got her quirk, running into his legs, crying, overwhelmed by the loud noises and the recoil.

He sighed, eyes drifting shut.

When Katsuki's eyes snapped open, it was already midnight. He felt a blanket over you two. Mizuki was home. He skillfully slipped his arm out from under your head, getting up. He adjusted the blanket over you, kissing the tip of your nose. Light on his feet, he went upstairs, standing outside Mizuki's room.

He cleared his throat, knocking on the door, "Hey, kid. Ya in there?"

He was greeted by silence. He turned the knob, opening the door and peeking inside. There she was, lying with her back to the door, pretending to be asleep, blonde eyelashes fluttering on her cheeks. He crept up to her bed, taking a seat on the mattress, the bed sinking down with his weight.

He leaned over, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. He put his forehead on her head, "I'm sorry, Mizu. I know I was an ass." He murmured.

Mizuki lay on her back, crimson eyes shifting to her father. His eyes, the same colour as hers, almost pleaded with her to talk to him. She sat up straight, putting a hand behind her neck, looking down.

"It's alright... I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean anything I said back then." She felt her father's arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer. In his strong arms, she felt safe. Even though they often fought and argued, she adored him. He meant the world to her.

"I'll break up with him." She said.

Katsuki pulled away from the hug, shaking his head and taking her hands, "No. If he makes you happy, you can date him."

"What's the point if you're not happy about it?"

"I'll be happy about it as long as he keeps you happy." He held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes, "But the moment he breaks your heart, I'm breaking his legs, and you're not stopping me."

He watched a shit-eating grin take over her face, scarily looking like him, "If it ever comes to that, I'll join you."

"Atta girl." He smirked. Mizuki threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Katsuki smiled, holding his daughter closer.

"I love you, papa." She mumbled.

Katsuki held himself from crying right there and then, "Love ya too, Mizu."

Katsuki held Mizuki for a while longer, enjoying this rare moment of peace with his daughter, running his hand through her long hair. He felt a pair of eyes on him and glanced back to see you leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed across your chest, a soft smile on your face. He held an arm open for you to join him and Mizuki.

You crawled into bed, kissing Mizuki's cheek and then Katsuki's jaw. He pulled your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you two.

While you and Mizuki slept peacefully, Katsuki stayed awake, his heart brimming with love and bliss. Lying on the bed with his world in his arms, he wondered what he did to deserve you two. He considered himself the world's luckiest man.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugo #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki #kacchan #dad!bakugou #azzo writes

857 notes · View notes

minhyungsluvr · 8 months

Text

MARK + 00' LINE | FIGHTS WITH THEM

a/n: would you believe this has been in the drafts for a year now!!! The dialogue kicked my ass, but alas I prevailed

MARK: NOT TAKING CARE OF HIMSELF

He had texted you, saying it was another late practice. For the past week he had left earlier in the morning, and came back late at night barely able to keep his eyes open long enough to slip into bed beside you. You had brought it up before, or tried to, and he brushed you off. Saying it was apart of his job, he doesn't need a break, he feels fine. You not even sure if he's eating properly. The final straw was when he came home late again, this time you were away waiting on him. Like clock work, he comes through the door sluggishly. Movements slow, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. It almost pained you to bring it up now when the last thing he probably wanted was to hear you fuss over him again. But if you didn't bring it up now, then would you be able to again. "Mark, this really isn't healthy. You're not sleeping, I'm not sure your even eating meals. I'm sure you can afford a couple of days to relax." You spoke softly, hoping that keeping your voice soft would slim the chances of a fight starting. That didn't work. "Baby..." he started with a sigh. " I really don't want get into this tonight, I'm tired" he said as he walked past you to get to the bedroom. You followed him, still trying to make your point. "I'm not trying to nag or anything, but I just want you to start taking better care of yourself". He's still not listening to you, he to busy chaning into his pajamas. "Are you listening to me", you ask, now feeling frustrated. "I am, and I mean it when I say I'm fine. So can you please drop it so we cam go sleep." He turns to you as he speaks, waiting for you to say something else before moving. You nod once, "okay, fine." You slip under the covers, back towards him, you don't say goodnight and neither does he.

RENJUN: NOT WANTING TO MEET YOUR FRIENDS

Renjun was your first serious relationship, and you had hoped he'd be your last. He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. He was caring, you had similar interests, and be made time for you despite his busy schedule. You've met a lot of the members of his group, you loved their dynamic. The way they were like family, how they were able to joke with each other like brothers. Your relationship was moving beautifully, until you invited him to brunch with some of your friends. When you asked, he Immediately froze up. Stumbling over his words to give you a quick, barely thought out excuse of why he would be busy during that time. You asked him again a week later, this time it was bowling. And again, he suddenly had to go do something with his members that he just thought about. It had been a month of bad excuses and dodging ever attempt at trying to meet your friends. They were starting to think you were making it up. It came to the point where you had to confront his about it. On a day where he was most definitely not bust you asked him again, "do you want to come with me a few friends for lunch"? You could feel him tense from his position on you as you both were stretched across the couch. "Ummm....." he started, beginning to sit up. "Why don't you want to meet my friends? I've met yours, and it was a lot of them." You spoke, exasperated. He starts looked around, like he's trying to find another excuse. "Stop" You saying, now also sitting up, "be honest with me Renjun. Why do you keep lying?" He hears your voice wobble, see your eyes get glossy. "I just don't understand, I've told how important my friends are to me and you won't even try to meet them." He's quick to console you as a tesr finally makes its way down your cheek. "It's not that I don't want to, I'm just nervous. I know how much they mean to you, and-" You cut him off, " I really like Renjun, and for us to get build our relationship your going to have to meet the important people in my life like I've met yours." You had taken his hand in yours, giving reassuring squeezes every now and then as he let your words sink in.

HEACHAN: DOESN'T TAKE YOU SERIOUSLY

This problem has been festering for a minute, and it’s probably your fault the situation is as big as it is. You should’ve brought it up when it was only a small issue, not when you came home from work later than usual with an attitude because your boss is a jerk. All you wanted was to come home to a clean and quiet home, instead you walk through the door to hear your boyfriend yelling through from the bedroom. All the dirty dishes were piled up in the sink, including the ones from the morning that you asked him to clean before you got home. When you walked in the room to ask him about the mess that was your kitchen, you didn’t want it to turn into a fight. It started with you asking him why he didn’t wash the dishes like you asked, especially since he was home all day. Then it ended with you accusing him of never taking you seriously. “What do you mean I don’t take you seriously?” he asked, no longer shouting. “I mean exactly what I said, you don’t take me seriously. When I tell you something you only joke about it.” The frustration was on your face and his as you started listing instances where he turned what you were feeling or what you said into a joke. Hot tears welled up in your eyes as you kept talking, anger building up from the long day you had and the argument you were having with Haechan. Seeing your face, how tired you looked, he calmed down. “Gorgeous, why have you never brought this up earlier?” You shrugged,feeling all the fight leave at his quiet tone. "Look, I promise to start listening better if start telling me how your feeling before it blows up." He stands in front of you, head tilting down to meet your teary eyes. He's only given a single nod, but the small, barely there smile on your face tells him everything will be alright.

JENO: FORGETTING IMPORTANT DATES

It's embarrassing, humiliating! You sit alone, at a table for two, in a restaurant with fancy lights, all by yourself. Looks of pity are being thrown from across the restaurant as you check the time of your phone for the fourt time that minute. Nope, still no text from Jeno. No text saying he's late, no text telling you why he hadn't shown up yet, not even a text to cancel. You could feel your face heat up as other couples walked past to get to their tables. Finally you gave up, you've waited thirty minutes too long. Walking out the restaurant, you call him, eager to see what held him up. "Hello" he answers on the first ring, "y/n..... are you there"? You had froze, he didn't show up to dinner because he was sleep! Not because he was in some life threatening situation. After the last time he had missed a date, he promised that he wouldn't miss another. Or at the very least let you know ahead of time why he couldn't come. You held the phone for another second before answering. "Did you forget about out plans" you ask. You hear him cuss quietly on the phone, before there is a rustling sound. Probably him fighting with his sheets to get out the bed. "I'm so sorry", he starts, "tell me where you are and I'll meet you there, ok sweetheart." He throws the pet name on at the end, knowing what it does to you. But it doesn't have the same effect this time. "Don't worry about it Jeno, I'm going home." You hung up before he was able to answer. He wasted no time calling you back while getting dressed, each called went ignored and only fueled him to move faster to meet you. By the time he showed up at your door, all his calls and texts still went unanswered. He could only hope you'd answer the door so he could try and make it right.

JAEMIN: NOT MAKING TIME FOR YOU

Of course you knew how busy he was before you even started dating. But if he was able to make time for you when you were just friends, you assumed that wouldn't change when he became your boyfriend. You'd spend weekends together watching romcoms, going out to eat, and now your lucky if you see him at least once a month. At first you blamed it on comeback season. Then of course there was the tour. But now he was back, and the most he done is respond to your texts telling you he's made it back home, or to laugh at a meme you've sent. You'd ask if he was free one day to come over, to hang out, he says he can't because he's playing games with Jeno. A new movie with your favorite actress just came out, and he can't see it with you because he's already getting lunch with the members. This goes on for a while, you trying to set dates up and him declining because he already has plans. You and your relationship have been pushed aside for a while, and you were sick of it. You called him on night, to ask him when he'd be free next. "I'm not really sure, I was going to spend some time just relaxing." Normally, he would've invited you over, but your not sure whats going on with him now. "Jaemin, are you tired of me?" He makes a noise of surprise over the phone, "What makes you say that, you know I'm crazy about you". You sigh, "It's like you don't want to be around me anymore. You're always busy, but not to busy for everyone else." It's a hot minute before he answers, "I didn't realize I was making you feel like that, I didn't even realize I was pulling away from you". "I understand that your busy, but I don't know...." you trail off. "No, I get it, I do. And I'm sorry", he says, "I just need to find balance is all. But don't think you're not important to me". His reassuring words bring a smile back to your face, "so are you going to be free soon" you ask hoping his answer would be different from earlier.

551 notes · View notes

milfhunter6698 · 1 month

Text

professional

synopsis: You’ve been working for Victoria for quite some time now, becoming her most trusted and loyal assistant. Your relationship had always been strictly professional. As you both agreed on keeping your personal and work lives separate, but tonight, when you invited her over for a party, everything changes the night ends unexpectedly.

warnings: 18+ Smut, no use of (y/n), reader’s a supe, cursing, no describing reader’s appearance, explicit language, cunnilingus, fingering, top/reader, bottom/victoria.

pairing: Victoria neuman, x female reader.

notes: Hey ya’ll so i did it.. i couldn’t wait anymore i had to write something about my beautiful wife. anyway this is kinda self-indulgent like a little blurb from a whole story i was initially going to write but got stuck and lazy and decided to post this instead. plus this is the first time posting smut on here too sooo, i feel like a complete whore lmao but anyway enjoy and lmk if i should write more i’m opened for any requests and ideas.

(You have to listen to this song while reading idc)

wc: 3.1k

Victoria's life seemed to spiral further into her work. Election campaigns, meetings, and a packed schedule left her little time for anything else. You, too, found yourself caught in the whirlwind, working late into the night, and returning home exhausted.

Sometimes the job felt like it was hell-bent on kicking your ass, but then, you think it's not all that bad after all working with Victoria.

Tasks often pulled You away from her, leaving you two disconnected. The leisurely coffee breaks you once shared after long shifts were a thing of the past. It had been nearly two weeks since You had even stepped foot in her office.

Desperate for a break, You decided to host a small soiree party at your penthouse. inviting a few close friends, co-workers from the bureau, and, of course, Victoria. You believed you both needed a reprieve from your hectic work lives, even if it was just for the night.

On a calm Saturday evening, the soft hum of conversation filled the air as Victoria stood in the balcony, overlooking the bustling city streets. The warm night air made her skin shiver. She rested her arms over the railing, holding a glass of champagne in her hand. She turned around, sensing someone's presence just as You stepped outside through the glass doors.

A playful grin tugged at the corner of Victoria’s lips, her heart warming at the sight of you. she turned to fully face you, the glass held loosely in her hand.

"Hello, you," She greeted, a friendly tone in her voice. she tilted her head, gesturing towards the party. “Having fun back there?"

her gaze flickered between Your face and the lively scene behind you. You could sense the exhaustion that seemed to cling to her like a heavy cloak, and You couldn't help but feel a pang of concern. But for now, You wanted to give her a moment to breathe, to forget about work and everything else for just a little while.

"Come, join us. Let's forget about everything else for tonight, okay?" You offered, your hand gently guiding Victoria back into the party, a smile still playing on her lips.

As the night wound down, You watched the last guest leave, offering them a friendly smile as you shut the door. Making your way to the kitchen. You found Victoria helping to clean up, your gaze drifting to her, and you couldn’t help but notice How she has been clutching on her shoulder all night. concerned you leaned against the counter, grabbing a drink. "Hey, you alright?"

Victoria's eyes met yours, her expression weary. "I'm fine, just a lot on my plate.”

“Here, let me help,”

Sliding the drink onto the counter, You stepped closer, hands finding their way to Victoria's shoulders. Your fingers began a slow, gentle massage, kneading the tense muscles. "You know, I can tell when you're lying right?" A small chuckle escaped You, amused by Victoria's denial and unyielding spirit. due to your powers it allowed you to spot a lie from a mile away, and You couldn't help but admire the other woman’s resilience.

Victoria's shoulders relaxed under Your touch, her defenses slipping for a moment. "I'm not lying. I'm just... overwhelmed. The aftermath of the town hall, the backlash, and Zoe... it's a lot to handle."

A few weeks back, You visited the 'Godolkin University' for Victoria’s town hall, and you were there, her ever-reliable assistant. you witnessed it all, How things quickly went downhill, how the crowd full of angry supe-students erupted into displeased shouts. refusing to be treated as low as ‘normal humans’. their powers flared as chaos ensued. nearly killing the women you deeply cared for.

“Hmm, I get it,”

You hummed voice soft and understanding. As you continued to massage Victoria's tense muscles, fingers gripping her shoulders tighter. You knew damn well the weight Victoria carried, A person like her navigating the relentless storm of her life—campaigns, balancing her work and personal life, the pressure. You were well-acquainted with the insanity she endured, and you were determined to be there, ready to support and help ease her burdens.

"You know, you don't have to do this alone. I'm here to help, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you're not overwhelmed."

In return Victoria’s hand found yours on her shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze with a quiet ‘thank you’.

As your fingers spread across her back, gently tracing her curves, hands gliding up to her shoulder blades. savoring the sensation, trying to memorize every inch of her skin. When her head falls back and a soft groan escapes her lips.

“uh, yes right there.”

Your heart races. Eyes locked on the smooth curve of her neck, She gently pushes her soft hair aside, revealing its soft, inviting skin.

your eyes meet as you spin Victoria around, and in that moment, you were so close you can practically taste her. Her breath hitches as you feel the buzz of adrenaline race throughout your veins, she can't help but lift her face, and you mirror the move, her arms came up to cradle the back of your neck, drawing you closer.

Your foreheads meet, You were enveloped by the familiar, heavy scent of Victoria’s skin. Your very being bristles, The sweet smell of her perfume wafted through the air, intoxicating and hard to ignore. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears, the rhythmic beat echoing in the silence. This closeness was akin to sinking into a warm embrace, a comfort You craved.

The air between you crackled with unspoken desire, Your lips quivered, parting slightly hovering just mere inches from hers.

as you nestled your nose against her warm cheek. With her eyes shut tight, you inhaled the familiar scent that continuously drew you closer. “I like being close to you. You’re so warm.”

you whispered, an overwhelming sense of contentment enveloping you in Victoria’s embrace.

Your eyes jumping between her eyes and lips. She whispers back, your name escaping her soft lips. she leans so close that your noses gently bump, and you stay like that, faces connected, her hand moved instinctively to cup your cheek, her fingers brushing against your skin. Your eyes, fixated on Victoria’s lips, slowly drifted shut, basking in the warmth beneath her touch. Close enough for your breaths to intertwine, You hear how her heart thumped rapidly, the sound echoing between you. As your lips hovered tantalizingly close.

"Vic, your heart's racing," Your hand finding its place on her chest. your own heart pounded in sync with hers.

Not wasting another second she closed the gap. As your lips finally met, the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters of something new and uncertain. But as you melted into each other, the unsureness gave way to warmth, to the familiarity of shared experiences.

Victoria’s warm breath teases your lips. She forces her heavy eyelids open to meet your gaze once you pull away. her eyes are intense, her pupils wide, and her thick lashes flutter on your cheek as she struggles to keep them open. Your own hands tremble as they grip her waist, she releases a soft sigh, feeling the warmth of your closeness.

Your lips parted, only to meet again, tongues dancing in a passionate tango. Her hands roamed on your back, her fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you even closer. The scent of Victoria's skin, the taste of her lips, the warmth of her body, all enveloped you in a whirlwind of sensation.

The kiss deepened, slow and closed, the taste of alcohol on her lips made your head dizzy. The sigh she let out against your mouth made you groan. Her hands sliding down your sides, fingers gripping your hips, pulling you flush against her. Your head spun, mind hazy with desire.

Her hands impatiently tugged at your shirt, Your grip tightening on her waist. the heat and plushness of hers clung to you.

Pulling back, you gazed into her half-lidded, dark eyes. You panted, as if you’d both been holding on to the last threads of air. Your heart raced, your voice a soft whisper, "Do you want this?"

Victoria's eyes searched Yours, The question hung between you, heavy with implications. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile, Her hand trailed down Your arm, her touch gentle and reassuring. "Yes," she replied, her voice low and husky. "I want this."

Your gazes locked, the unspoken words between you now spoken, Your hand found the back of her neck, pulling her in for another searing, messy kiss. lips crashing her tongue met yours, and She lets out a whimper, Your head swimming in a daze of desire. Your hands moved to grip at her shoulders, then her forearms, pulling her closer, kissing her back with the same intensity. The strained groan from Victoria sent shivers down your spine. Her eyes, filled with lust, roamed your face.

Victoria didn't realize you were lifting her until her feet left the ground, her arms wrapping around you, holding on tight. With a jolt, She found herself seated on the countertop, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist.

Your lips trailed down her neck, your teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin, a moan escaping her lips. Her hands gripped your hips, her body arching into your touch. The room fell silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing and the soft rustle of fabric as you moved against each other.

Victoria's hands roamed your body, her fingers finding the hem of your shirt, lifting it to reveal your smooth skin. Your breath hitched, heart racing as her lips trailed down your chest, her tongue flicking over your nipples, drawing them into her mouth, sucking gently.

“Holy fuc-“ You choked

Your head fell back, the air hitting your bare chest made goosebumps spread all over your skin, your hands gripping Victoria's hair, guiding her to your most sensitive spots. The sensation sent shivers down your spine.

Your kisses grew more urgent, your passion a wildfire, consuming you both. Your fingers finding the clasp of her blazer, unfastening it to reveal her silk blouse. Your lips found her ear, your breath hot against her skin as you whispered. "I want you, Victoria."

Victoria's body trembled under your touch, her hands fumbling with the clasp of your pants, As your fingers working to free her from the confines of her clothing. You removed her bra gaze lingering on her full, perky breasts. Your lips found her nipples, your arousal growing with each passing moment.

You turned, lips found Victoria's neck, trailing down to her jaw, and ear, hearing her gasp, clutching at your bare back. her hips rocking into yours, slow and deliberate.

Her moans arched up to the ceiling, her body trembling as Your teeth grazed her skin, leading your way to the swell of her breast. eyes flickering up to hers between each teasing lick and soft bite. Your mouths met, insistent and hungry, Her arms cradling Your head, Your entire being practically ached for her, heart pounding with desperation.

Finally you reached down, fingers trembling as you pull off her pants, sliding them down just above her knees. your hungry eyes lock, as your lips part in a breathy sigh. Your hands slide down, parting her legs, fingers slip inside her underwear, your touch soft, light, and slow.

“oh my god.”

Victoria's legs trembling already, her breaths shaky and uneven. your gazes hold, your fingertips soft on her clit, gasps escaping you both as you cling to each other, mouths still entwined in a passionate kiss.

You hissed, feeling her nails dig into your back. Impatient, You didn’t even bother to fully remove her pants as you freed one leg from Victoria’s pants, sliding them down her ankle, as they dangled loosely on her left leg. Your fingers then gripped her underwear, tugging it down, as one of her heels fell the Sound of it slamming against the hard floor echoed through the room. Revealing her fully to your eager exploration.

Her legs wrapped around your waist her arm draped over your shoulders as she pulled you in closer. Your lips found her neck again sucking and leaving small bite marks on her soft skin.

“I need you so fucking bad.” Voice faltering as she whimpers desperately, her breath hot blowing against your ear.

A proud smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you turn to kiss her before pulling away. you lower yourself, your eyes never breaking away from her, watching how her chest heaved with desire, how her body trembled with need. resting a knee on the ground as you positioned yourself between her thighs. bringing one of her legs to rest over your shoulder, you leaned in placing a few small pecks on her inner thigh before your tongue made contact with her clit.

Victoria let out a sharp gasp, her hand gripped the back of Your head, urging you on. Your lips traced over her flushed skin. Your eyes close, your tongue delving into her, tasting and exploring, savoring each moment.

Her body writhing and shuddering under your touch. She could feel every touch, every movement, like a spark setting her body aflame. Her eyes fluttered shut, legs closing in squeezing your head, As her fingers tangled in your hair pushing you closer, desperately needing more of you, needing to feel your tongue on her skin.

She couldn't control the sounds escaping her, gasps and moans that only seemed to fuel your eagerness. The sensations coursing through her were overwhelming, as if her body had a mind of its own, craving every moment of pleasure.

The need to please Victoria, to taste and devour her, grew. Your tongue slipped inside, tasting every drop, every delicious moan that escaped her lips. The heat from her core enveloped you, your own desire mounting with each flick of your tongue against her.

Your middle finger teased her slit before slipping it in, You can feel the tension in Victoria’s body slowly releasing, replaced by the growing pressure within. her head thrown back her sharp jawline clenching, unable to meet your gaze as her breathing became erratic, her body craving for more.

The pleasure intensified when Your mouth found Victoria’s clit again, your tongue dances sending waves of ecstasy through her. your eyes glazed over, seeing her face flushed, drinking in her body, as you inserted your ring finger further. The stretch sent ripples throughout her, a mix of pleasure and pain washing over the women above you.

You curled your fingers towards her g-spot, and She couldn't help the tears that pooled in the corners of her eyes. her moans growing louder and more urgent, you could tell she was already on the edge, and your tongue darted out, teasing her harder, feeling her shake under your touch.

You came up as your foreheads touched, Your fingers continued sliding into her, three of them, as deep as they could go. she cried out of pleasure into the small space between your faces. you couldn’t help but let out a choked moan of your own, flexing your fingers upward in an unforgiving curve, feeling her walls clench around your fingers.

Victoria’s free hand left the edge of the counter, resting gently at the side of your face. She angled hers back, your noses touching once more. Her eyes opened, locked onto yours, watching the heat rise to Your cheeks as you drank in every flicker of pleasure that danced across her features.

Her body curls into yours, her nose nuzzling into the curve of your cheek, She holds you close, Her hips bucking harder, faster, driving into you with a fervor that matches the intensity of your passion. Her mouth fell open, fingers entwine in your hair, tugging you closer, your lips crashing together in a messy, desperate kiss.

The room was filled with the symphony of your heavy breathing, muffled moans that escaped Victoria's lips as she kissed you.

You can practically feel her pleasure shaking through her body, Her gasps, whines, driving you absolutely crazy, and you continue to push into her, hitting that spot that makes her head spin.

“Fuck, I know Vic let go.” You spoke softly your eyebrows pulled together as you watched her.

her eyes roll back, her body arches up into you, her release taking over. she tightens the grip around you, the sensation overwhelming. your breaths mingle, As Victoria’s orgasm washed over her.

“fuck- fuck! fuck.” She cries out

You lost in the sight, the sound of Victoria’s pleasure, and the way she clings to you, etched into your memory. hearts pounding, your bodies slick with sweat, oxygen barely reaching your lungs.

you were left breathless, your own arousal reaching its peak, the sensation of Victoria’s orgasm rippling through you, as if you were feeling it too. You were left in complete awe, your gazes meeting once more, hearts beating in unison, bodies still entwined.

Your fingers continued to move inside Victoria, your own climax drawing near. The intensity of your connection, the raw passion, and the sight of her pleasure pushed you closer to the edge. Your body trembled, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

her body quivered, her moans softening as her orgasm subsided. Her fingers loosened their grip on Your hair.

Your eyes fluttered shut, as your body tensed and there it was, a wave of your own orgasm came crashing over. your knees buckled, you brought a hand between your legs palming your clothed core. your whimper comes out muffled by the space between your lips. Your fingers inside Victoria stiffened, Your entire body trembling as you rode out your release.

Your fingers slowly withdrew from her, Your whole body collapsing against Victoria's, head dropped to rest on her shoulder. the aftershocks of your orgasms still rippling through your bodies.

Victoria's hand slid down your back, her fingers gripping your ass, pulling you closer, that your bare chests pressed together. waiting for the trembling to stop, your heavy breaths filled the room. your skin, tacky with sweat, contrasts with the colder air.

"Wow, that was fucking insane." you couldn’t help but utter.

A soft laugh escapes her, you smile against her shoulder. moving your face, to press a soft, insistent kisses at the side of Victoria’s, until she turns to look at you. Your lips catch in a sweet, lingering kiss, sighs mingling as you explore each other's mouths.

#lgbtq #victoria neuman #the boys #masc lesbian #victoria neuman x reader #sub!Victoria neuman #Spotify

207 notes · View notes

bluecollarmcandtf · 28 days

Text

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter II

On my last sweep of the house, I check each pledge before the party. Moonlight™ is now partnered with Greek life on campus, and it's the perfect tool for hazing. As president, the app recognizes me as their manager, so I alone get to boss the mind controlled idiots around!

"Pledge!" I snap.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he barks back, yelling it loud and clear without any reservations.

I forget what his name is; Jason, maybe? As long as he's being puppetted around by the Moonlight™ app, it doesn't matter. He'll answer to anything I call him with a rigid smile and a purple stare. He might technically be asleep, but honestly I prefer underclassmen this way. They're much less annoying.

"Scrub these toilets good!" I sneer enjoying the way he hangs on my every word, "You're the janitor for Delt-Ep-Phi's party tonight! I don't want to see any shit or puke unless you're mopping it up! Got it?"

"Yes, brother, sir!"

Just like that, my obedient janitor agrees to my orders and resumes mopping like his life depends on it. At the very least, Moonlight™ has made these pledges more effective. It would have been impossible to force menial work on a freshman without getting a half-assed result. Too many of the guys at this school are rich kids from prep schools: the kind that would be mortified to be near a mop, let alone clad in some sticky maintenance uniform. I bet Jacob, or whatever the fuck his name is, would be mortified to find out that this thing hasn't been washed in years. We just keep throwing it in the closet for the next pledge we have moonlight as janitor. The only thing that makes the dank BO of the garb bearable is the accompanying scent of cleaning chemicals.

I ignore the smell and give the guy a slap on the neck, leaving him to mop the bathroom in silence. My next stop is the kitchen, where I check on my younger cousin Tristan. Tonight, he's just the dishwasher.

"Sup, dude," I say, "Grab me a beer."

"Yes, brother, sir!" he yells back like an army cadet, obediently fetching a bottle from the fridge and opening it for me.

"How's dish-duty?"

"It's amazing! I love being the dishwasher, brother, sir!" my cousin beams.

It's weird to see him like this; with glowing eyes and forced grin. The Tristan I know is charming and unbothered, normally gliding through conversation with subtle looks and gestures. He's normally got this cool style that wins over girls and intimidates guys, so it doesn't help that he's all dressed up in the frat's old dish-boy uniform. I really hate that an upperclassman wrote on his forehead. That'll make classes next week a bit awkward. I suppose it's just a normal part of hazing, and I'm not going to make an exception just because he's my family.

"You gonna be a good dishwasher for the party tonight?" I probe, taking a sip of beer.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he declares, "I'll be ready at the sink for anything that needs cleaned, and I'll be ready to refill any of my brother's drinks."

"That's right, and remember only brothers can get a refill. Girls have to ask one of us to get it from you," I make sure to clarify. It makes it a lot easier to pick up girls when they have to approach us for their next drink. If only I could use Moonlight™ on them to put them to work as the frat's strippers or something. That'd really be getting the most out of the app!

Heavy bass blares from the other room: the party's getting started. I've already spent too much time with Tristan, so I say bye to my cousin and head on out to the main area.

Standing by the door is our coat rack: his name's Kyle, and he's much better as furniture.

"Your arms tired yet, Kyle?" I sneer.

"No, brother, sir!" he grins back.

I laugh a bit when I notice someone wrote a 'kick me' message, pointing at his crotch. A guy like Kyle could definitely use a good kick in the nuts. The freshman came to our call-out with an insanely high opinion of himself. He seemed to think he had every right to get in because he was a legacy. Apparently, his dad is rich alumni so we couldn't refuse him, but that didn't make him immune to our new hazing ritual via Moonlight™. He definitely got the worst job in the house. He might not be scrubbing toilets or cleaning dishes, but his arms are sure to be sore as fuck by morning; not to mention all the kicks in the groin he's guaranteed to get!

"Are you gonna hold those coats, pledge?" I snarl in his face, getting only a cold smile in return.

"Yes, brother, sir!"

"And why is that?" I spit menacingly.

"Because I'm a coat rack, brother, sir!"

"That's right, and coat racks don't react when they get a kick in the balls, right?"

"No, brother, sir!"

With a chuckle, I swing my foot into his crotch. Kyle jerks, but his lips remain stretched across his face in a toothy grin. His body can't help but flinch at the sudden pain, but it only takes a second for Moonlight™ to reassert control. Barely a few seconds have passed and he's back, stiffly holding his arms out, sweating from the effort of being completely still.

"Thank you, brother, sir!" he manages to say. I guess one of the upperclassmen told Kyle to thank anyone who gives him a kick. That'll be a fun little party trick!

I give the guy a little slap on the face before I leave. Tonight's party is gonna be off the hook! I've still got some time before it starts, maybe I can catch a minute to relax in my room. It's not that late yet, but I'm starting to feel the effects of a long day. I'd love to just lay down, even just for a second.

Unfortunately, I fall asleep...

The next day, I wake up when my phone dings with a notification from the frat group chat...

"What the fuck!" I jump out of bed, "What is this picture?"

Though I don't want it to be true, the picture appears to be me. I'm dressed up like some stupid waiter, with the same cringe smile and glowing eyes as any the other Moonlight™ employee, but that can't be right. We only use the app on pledges! There's no way in hell any of my brothers would sign me up like this!

I rack my brain for any memory of last night's party, trying to recall any clue that'll tell me this picture is a lie. The endeavor only hurts my head, but I do notice that I feel unusually sweaty for having just gotten an entire night's rest. My arm feels sore, and my pajamas feel awkward like I was drunk pulling them on.

"Dude, you were a great manservant last night!" one text reads.

"Totally think you should quit that finance degree and be a full-time butler!"

"I could get used to you fetching us drinks and giving us foot rubs!" another adds, "We should have done this years ago!"

I stare at the texts in horror and step into my bathroom. Sure enough, I see the word 'buttler' written across my forehead in sharpie. Someone must have thought it was hilarious to draw a stupid goatee on my face as well. My eye twitches as I stare at my reflection, rage boiling up inside of me.

"Why the fuck did you do that to me!" I text back, "I'm the fucking president!" Even through the phone, my words drip with malice.

"Don't dish out what you can't take!" one replies simply, "Just a prank, bro!"

I try to slow my breaths, but my fists are clenched painfully tight. I'm gonna beat whoever's idea this was! It's one thing for us to use Moonlight™ on freshmen, but I'm a senior and I refuse to spend my last year in this frat moonlighting as a butler! I'm supposed to be getting drunk and laid at these parties! Not marching around with a bowtie and silver tray, serving drinks and whatever the fuck else!

"I wouldn't get yourself too worked up, dude," a guy texts, "You might be in control now that your awake, but remember you're at our whim the second you fall asleep. I could have you scrubbing the floor with your toothbrush tonight if you don't behave yourself. Lol."

The message makes me see red, but he's right. An overwhelming sense of helplessness falls over me. I could beat those fuckers up now, but what would that make them do later? They already wrote on my face with permanent ink! What if they made me shave my head or get a tattoo! Fuck!

This can't be legal, but honestly, I have no idea what the contract stated when we signed up for the app! How do I even go about cancelling this Moonlight™ job? The tech is so convoluted and hard to use!

In the meantime, I'll be lucky if all they make me do is serve them their drinks and do their chores. I guess I can live with that for a short while.

With a grimace of resignation, I text back, "Good one, guys."

#mind control #unaware #work slaves #blue collar worker #servant #moonlight

154 notes · View notes

wonryllis · 4 months

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 & 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖𝐒 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐒

𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎?

ׅ ꢾ꣒ find the MASTERLIST here.

PREVIEW. you always get what you want, spoiled with the love of everyone around you. and it's all innocent love, at least that's what everyone thinks. it comes with much surprise therefore, when heeseung makes a move on you. thirteen long years of being in the brother zone having made him utterly clueless that if he’s going to date you he has to pass through your actual brothers first. and he knows how scary they can be. especially since they are known to have a sister complex and he’s been the third scary one with them, numerous times before.

𝐈 check out the PROFILES.

PLS READ THE CONTENT BELOW ALL THE CHARACTER INFO IS LISTED IN JUST THIS ONE POST !

𝐈𝐈 tune in to the CHARACTER INTERVIEWS ( given by the characters themselves ! )

CHOI YN 20 ( fashion ), well what do i say? hello everyone i'm choi yn! im sure everyone knows me already ^^ .. what else do i say? hmm i love my life a lot! i love my brothers and heeseung and wonie so much, they are the closest people in my life! oh shit sorry riki too hehe oops. college has been fun since im doing exactly what i wanted and it's fun to hangout with won all the time. seungie brings me snacks all the time and binnie lets me eat cakes everyday even though junnie has scolded them not to cause i easily get dental problems and then he has to convince be to go to the dentist, eww.

LEE HEESEUNG 23 ( film ), if you ever stop hearing from me, please know that my day has come and i have chosen to be exposed. as much as jun and soobs love me, and as much as they love tiny(my yn, she's just real cute) if i ever dare speak of that kind of love with tiny in the same sentence it's my last moment on earth. jay and taehyun help a lot and i'd give everything to thank them for it but man they still haven't been able to actually help me get with yn?

CHOI SOOBIN 24 ( law school ), yes my sister is my everything, each one of her wishes no matter how stupid and idiotic they are, must be fulfilled. i think i was like ten when ynie said being a lawyer would be so cool, and it's been my life's motto now. law school kicks my ass yeah but whenever i think of how happy she'd be to see me as a badass lawyer it feels like nothing. i could easily help her win the divorce that's a plus point, i think i should start looking into divorce attorney things.

CHOI YEONJUN 25 ( model ), i swear scaring away my baby sister's admirers is one of my full time jobs besides runaway modelling but alas she is my sister of course she's a beauty. i know she will date and marry a motherfucking guy one day, and i won't be able to stop it but i hope that day takes the longest time to come. she was one of the first ones to say how good my dressing style was, if it wasnt for her i would not be one of the rising faces in the fashion scene today.

PARK JAY 22 ( music production ), being lee heeseung's childhood friend has been my life's greatest downfall. and being his emergency contact number one is probably the biggest mistake of my life. it's so so so infuriating to see him do nothing and panic over the fact that some might sweep her off her feet right before his eyes like fucker you gotta sweep her off her feet rather than worrying over how someone else might sweep her off her feet. taehyun probably understands me.

SIM JAKE 22 ( physics ), it's fun, so so fun i can not express it verbally man, 'm having a blast! there's so many new things to learn i am so happy with my major and my astronomy club thing is going so well too, it's been amazing so far. the only thing i dont like is my mates ignoring me, like i tell them about all these quantum mechanics things and how it's works like it's legit the coolest thing ever and they don't wanna listen me and then come to me for help with assignments like dude? there's no give and take here and it's not high school anymore? but i do it cause im nice :)

PARK SUNGHOON 22 ( communications ), first of all i gotta thank my man taehyun for letting me copy off of him to pass my semesters so far. as a full time commercial and photoshoot model, college is just a side quest for me at this point, just need an arm candy degree to show that i am infact educated contrary to what people think. oh and i'd like to tell this, don't tell anyone, i actually know all the drama going on and it's so funny but i gotta stay low if i wanna be safe. sometimes i do think of stirring things up but yeonjun man he scares me, i better be on his good side.

KIM SUNOO 21 ( journalism ), for real god am i the only one working my ass off here cause why the hell all these dicks be fucking up their lives and copying off people to survive like? look at me, every little gossip on campus and you know who to go to get the full info! exactly how it should be for a journalism major. i swear i am doing all the shit ass work here. i admit i slip sometimes especially with heeseung's secret in front of god forbidden yn but 'm just a human, and humans make mistakes yk? and please tell kai to fuck off please, thank you.

YANG JUNGWON 20 ( fashion ), it's a different feeling when three guys trust you with their precious sister. and it's a different feeling when that precious real spoiled girl treats you like the best buddy she could ever have. but it's not so fortunate when you gotta dash to protect anytime the brothers ping you, it's like a national secret agency part time job and it's the hardest thing when the target is someone like yn. i treasure her a lot, as a friend! yes, yet the times when her brothers get jealous of me are some of the most nerve wrecking times.

NISHIMURA RIKI 20 ( photography ), are we surprised here? no wtf have y'all not seen the pics i post on my twt like i got talent you have to accept it. especially a lot of talent in gaming and luck, my luck be through the roofff. just started lol a year ago and my YouTube Chanel six months ago and im already almost a diamond and about to hit a million subscribers.. talk about god's favorite! ha that's me. but the thing is more than that i wanna be yn's favorite like i know she says won and i are same but i know that kitty is closer. for now i like being glued to yn, but after figuring out things so easily it's hard to keep quiet.

CHOI BEOMGYU 23 ( film ), with the amount of hate train behind me it's a miracle i am still breathing and in one piece. praying all this ends quickly and my life is returned back to me or i'll go crazy it has been like what two? three? years already! i need my freedom. i can count and name with my fingers the people who hate me. actually no it's everyone. anyways, i share all classes with heeseung and lord is it the scariest part of my life. at least yeonjun and soobin would need time to hunt me down but lee heeseung? he's right behind me two rows, staring down my every movement. look it's not my fault okay?

KANG TAEHYUN 22 ( communications ), it wasn't consensual. it is very important to clear this up. i did not give my papers to park sunghoon by choice. he had to pay me hefty for that so there's no thank you man, dude is pretending. and i am fucking sick of covering for heeseung all the time like dude grow balls, real balls dig up some manly guts and fucking do it before i lose patience and fuck shit up. every moment of listening to him lamenting over his feelings is the most frustrating shit ever. make him hear this one for god's fucking sake.

HUENING KAI 22 ( journalism ), no matter how much everyone denies it, i know they won't survive a day without me like? i provide sunoo with all the gossip of our side? how else do you think heeseung sneaks around yeonbin with his feelings? god it's me i do the passing the parcel of info. i mean taehyun is also involved with them but then i am more useful than that reality check of a guy, i mean who needs reality when you can live in a fantasy! hehe i just outdid everyone with that! or not anyway moving on yn's cr— SUNOO: shut the fuck up bitch!

𝐈𝐈𝐈 learn about THE GROUPCHATS.

01. HEEYN TRUTHERS heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon, taehyun and sunoo: the group that has been supporting heeseung in pursuing his feelings since he first revealed it to them. for whenever he fucks up and they have to discuss how to save his ass. normal chats happen too.

02. BOSS BABIES yn, jungwon, riki: the trio that has been friends since middle school, and sticks together. yn spends most of her time with them, that is in college. often goes out to hangout and these two are yn's only actual friends!

03. SHOOTERZ 4 YN yeonjun, soobin, heeseung and jungwon: they use this chat to text each other whenever someone upsets yn or she's going somewhere alone and they need jungwon to secretly tag along to give them updates later.

04. PRINCESS & HER KNIGHTZ yn, yeonjun, soobin and heeseung: the main stars— spoiled baby and her overprotective boys. usually text her when it has to do something with the four of them, like when yn goes out or she needs someone to pick her up or accompany her or when they have dinner at each other's place and someone's missing and likewise.

05. PSYCHOS W/ SICKOS yeonjun, soobin, beomgyu, taehyun, huening kai and heeseung: well this is heeseung's other friend group with the yn brothers' friends that become his own after a while. this is yeonbin dominated friend group chat and beomgyu is main character lmao

START THE STORY — prologue 𓈒 ‎𓈒 ‎𓈒

TAGLIST . ( OPEN ) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle @enhastolemyheart @aaa-sia @snoopypupp @criminalyun @oddracha @satan-223 @diorsyun @hooniehon @fakeuwus @caramelcandescence @intromortal @kookify @yutasberryy @sumzysworld @nikiswifiee @shuichi-sama @primroselover @rayofsunshineeee @aishigrey @yjwluvs @soraokkotsu @nyfwyeonjun @srhnyx @trashx678 @wondipity @winuvs @hoondiors @niniissus @firstclassjaylee @biancaness send an ask to be added! (if your comment goes unnoticed it is not my responsibility)

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #HOPE Y'ALL FIND THIS FUNNY ENOUGH ㅠㅠ #enhypen smau #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung imagines #heeseung imagines #enhypen social media au #enhypen socmed au #enhypen social au #heeseung smau #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts

151 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 6 months

Text

i don't really wanna fight, 'cause nobody's gonna win | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Eight

Chapter Summary | A little slice of domesticity wasn't ever going to be enough to cover the stress of the story unfolding on your desk, but it was worth a shot right?

Chapter Warnings | Mentions of drugs and the drug trade, work frustrations, explicit smut, fingering, unprotected PiV smut, creampie, dirty talk, we ride this man like our LIFE depends on it and some ANGST (I'm sorry, it had to happen sometime.)

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | OOOOOF okay we're back with these two. Real life has been kicking my ass so I'm sorry this took so long - but we're moving into the tail end of this now so prepare yourselves for even more drama! Thank you for being so patient with me and waiting for this - I hope you enjoy it. If you are enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

The words on the deed to the drug den in town are all forming into one - you’re not actually sure they’re in the English language anymore. You’ve been staring at the pages for what feels like a full week, even if you’d only spread them out for reading on your desk this morning. You don’t know what to do. There is, of course, the obvious option, of walking right up to their front door and asking what the hell is going on, but the more you dig, the more you think there’s something bigger going on here.

You pour over your notes, trying to make sense of it all. It was nothing to do with Tyler Johnson, but it had something to do with his family, that was for sure. There’s no way that this whole thing would have been brushed under the rug and dealt with by the police saying ‘oh well, we don’t know’ if there wasn’t something incriminating behind it all. You tried not to think about that possibly meaning your dad was implicated somewhere along the line.

Instead of sitting around and feeling useless, considering the words on the page weren’t leading you anywhere at all, you tidy up your desk, stick your head around your managers door to tell her you were heading out for the story, and you get in your car and drive.

They lead such dull lives, is all you can really think at this point. The sun is setting and it’s finally starting to cool a little. The thought process had been simple, if you weren’t going to catch them in the act on paper, you would have to catch them in the act for real - whatever that act might be.

You’d started with Tyler’s dad, following behind him as he went about mayoral business, driving from his office to some meeting in town and then back again. You’d waited an hour in the parking lot to see if he moved again, but gave up after a while. Deciding on following Tyler’s brother instead - but he’d been more of the same. You’d found him getting into his car at work once the day was done, driving to the grocery store and then going home. That was it. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Thinking about it, what would you even do if you did find them doing something? Tyler’s brother getting a package handed to him down a dark alley - there’s no way to get any proof, you don’t have a camera, and no-one’s going to believe you against them. The more you sit there, the more you think maybe you should have taken the story at face value, published it and moved on.

You suppose that these kinds of operations take time and patience - two things you were running seriously low on by now. You’re thinking of all the time’s Javi must have needed to do this - sitting around in a car waiting to catch someone doing something and wondered how he’d lasted so long. You weren’t made for this kind of work.

Sighing to yourself, you turn the key in the ignition and head home, trying not to let the frustration bubble over. You just had to wait. Bide your time. Surely somewhere along the line you’d catch someone doing something.

“You look stressed.”

You look at Javi through your eyelashes, taking a sip from the glass of wine in front of you on the counter. Your parents were taking their two week annual vacation - some place near the coast in Florida. You remember going when you were little, playing in the sand and swimming. They’d invited you this year but now you were older, it didn’t hold quite the same amount of charm as it used to, so you’d opted to stay at home.

The upside to not getting to lounge in the sun for two weeks was definitely this though. Javier Peña, hunched over the hob, sleeves of his shirt rolled up, cooking dinner for you. It was dangerous to think about how domestic it was, but you couldn’t deny how nice it felt. There was no-one to lie to about why you were late home from work for now, no need to rush through whatever it was that the two of you were doing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t need to be sorry,” He smiles at you, picking up his beer bottle to drink from, “You want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, “It’s alright, just stuff at work.”

“In all my years of working with journalists,” He speaks, stirring the pot of sauce in front of him, “I don’t think any of them were ever as stressed as you.”

“I just care about my work.”

“So did they,” He counters, picking a strand of spaghetti from the pot to test to see if it’s cooked, “Just trying to say there isn’t a story out there worth getting this worked up over.”

“I appreciate it,” You mumble, “But can we not talk about work?”

He holds his hands up in surrender, focusing his attention on dishing up the food - spaghetti with tomato sauce. It’s simple and you know it’s probably the limit of his cooking ability outside of being able to grill meat on fire, but it’s the thought that counts. You sit at the dining table and eat together, talking about nothing really, just enough to fill the silence. Even though he cooked, he insists on clearing up and packaging the leftovers for you to eat tomorrow.

You sit and watch TV on the couch and when it gets late enough and your head starts to rest on his shoulder, Javi asks if you want to go to bed.

“I do,” You answer, “But not to sleep.”

So he slowly leads you up the stairs and into your room, softly closing the door behind him. You settle yourself under your sheets, pushing them back on the other side for him as he takes off everything he’s wearing apart from his underwear and gets into bed with you. He shuffles you around so your back in pressed to his front, his big hands wandering from your hips up to your chest, where he gently cups one of your tits in his hands over the shirt you’re wearing.

You can feel his mouth trailing kissing up your shoulder until he reaches the delicate skin behind your ear, the tickle of his facial hair there making goosebumps rise on your skin, regardless of how warm it is under your sheets.

“What do you want?” He whispers softly, snaking his free arm under your neck so the side of your face is pillowed against it.

You don’t answer, you just take hold of his wrist, dragging his hand from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. You let his hand go then, feeling his big palm cup you through the material, “Like this?” He asks, teeth nipping at your ear lobe.

“No,” You shake your head, “Under.”

That big hand drags up just a little, fingers finding the waistband again, dipping below this time. He tuts into your ear when he finds you bare, having not bothered with underwear when you’d changed out of your work clothes.

His hand is warm against your skin as it envelops you again, fingers dipping ever so slightly between the folds of your pussy to find you already wet, it doesn’t take much at all when he’s around.

Fingers dragging through the slick, up to circle your clit, he speaks again, “Like this?” He asks, feather-light touches of his fingers making you gasp.

“Y-yeah,” You choke out, “Just like that.”

So that’s what he does - let’s you rest your head against his arm, lazily rolling his finger across that bundle of nerves like he has all the time in the world for making you feel good. It’s slow, the only punctuation to his fingers are the moans he lets out into your ear whenever he pushes his hips against the plush of your ass, his bulge prominent against the clothes that are separating you.

“I want you to come for me,” He whispers gently a little while later, teeth biting gently into the skin of your shoulder, “Can you be a good girl and do that for me?”

You nod your head, unable to speak through the short, sharp gasps that the friction between your legs is drawing out from you. He speeds up a little, lets his finger add more pressure there. He lets you roll your hips, chasing at the high that is just there, coiling in your tummy. Your body starts to shake, thighs clamping down on his hands as he brings you over the edge.

“Fuck yeah,” He rasps into your ear, “So fucking pretty when you come for me, mi querida.”

Through the haze of pleasure, you can feel him rolling you over, pressing your back into the sheets. He’s settling between your thighs, pulling your shorts off altogether, but you don’t want it like this, so you press a palm to his warm chest to stop him.

“I want…” You trail off, “I think I want to be on top.”

You watch his eyebrows raise a little but he doesn’t protest, because of course he doesn’t, he simply lies himself back down on his side of the bed and waits for you. You let yourself straddle his thighs, marvelling just a little at the bulge of his underwear, before you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband to drag them just far enough down his thighs to let his cock spring free, resting on his lower stomach.

Shuffling up his thighs a little, you lower yourself, letting your soaked folds drag across his length whilst your mouth moves up to suckle at the skin of his neck. You can feel his hands on the globes of your ass, helping to drag you up and down his cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks as you moan when the head of his cock brushes against your still-sensitive clit.

You don’t have any words, so you press yourself up, palms against his chest as you lift your hips just enough for him to reach between you, base of his cock fisted in his hand, to nudge at the weeping hole of your cunt. He holds it there for you as you slowly start to sink down onto him, moaning with your head thrown back at the stretch of taking him inside. When you reach the bottom, feeling him sucked right into the depths of you, you stay still, rolling your hips a little, feeling him so deep inside you.

Javi brings his hands to your hips, looking up at you as he guides your movements, slow forwards movements matched with even slower movements backwards, until the two of you are panting together.

You push yourself back, letting your arms fall behind you onto his knees, which have come up to rest against your backside, slowly starting to lift off him until he’s almost all the way out of the tight heat of your cunt, then you slide back down onto him, finding a rhythm of bouncing up and down on his cock.

Javi moves one of his hands from your hips, letting the flat palm run up your stomach, through the valley of your tits to lightly grip at the base of your neck. He doesn’t add any pressure, just holds his hand there, but you can feel the effect it has on you, pussy clenching around his length as you continue to bounce up and down on him.

“Look so fucking pretty like this,” He manages to choke out between moans, “Like you were made to be right here bouncing on my cock.”

“I-I think I’m g-gonna come again.” You hiss, feeling that familiar tightening in your tummy.

“Yeah?” He goads, but not unkindly, “You gonna come around my cock for me?”

To help you get there, Javi starts to thrust up into you, hand still at the base of your neck, hitting into your perfectly on your downward motion to fill you right to your depths, making your orgasm hit you head on. You feel yourself tighten around him, body collapsing forward to rest against his chest as he fucks you through the aftershocks of your climax, gripping onto your ass to keep you spread so he can find his own high, thrusting a handful of times before he’s stilling inside you, spilling himself inside with moans right into your ear.

He slips out of you as he softens, shifting you so you’re led down, both catching your breath.

“Sorry, I should have asked about that.” He mumbles, and it takes you a minute to realise he’s talking about coming inside you.

“It’s okay,” You say, turning your head to smile at him, “Although it does mean I have to go to the bathroom now.”

You drag yourself up onto all fours onto your bed, dragging yourself to the door to cover yourself in your robe before you leave Javi in your room to head to the bathroom.

He doesn’t know why he does it. In hindsight, it was out of order, but when you close the door behind you, he can’t help himself. He stands up, pulls his underwear back up and puts the rest of his clothes back on. Then he sits down on your edge of the bed and gingerly opens the top drawer of your bedside table.

There’s nothing much of note in there, a few lip balms and an old notebook, but that’s it. He opens the bottom one next, which is much more full, mainly with notebooks and sheets of paper. He knows he shouldn’t, but he reaches in and picks the first up, flicking it open to a random page somewhere in the middle, running his thumb across a loose sheet of paper before his eyes circle in on what the paper actually is.

It’s a newspaper article, reporting on Escobar’s death. When Javi looks underneath the paper there are notes written in your handwriting, detailing parts of the story that are interesting. He flicks to another page, another article about Escobar dying, with more of your handwritten notes. He can feel the panic rising in his chest, threatening to take hold of his throat.

He puts that notebook on the bed, reaches in and picks another up, flicking through to find more of the same - articles about the entire Escobar case, more handwritten notes - some written in red ink that only ever say his name with a question mark, like you’re asking yourself if he was responsible for the ill-reported heroics. Javi is too caught up in flicking through that he forgets about your return, letting you catch him red-handed when you come back through the door.

“What are you doing?” You ask, making him look up.

Your eyes are wide, like you’re shocked to find him with your notebooks in his lap.

“What’s all this?” He asks, instead of answering your question.

You surge forward, grabbing the notebook from his lap, slapping it shut, picking up the other one and then shoving them back in the drawer, “Did you go through my things?” He can tell from your tone that you’re worked up.

“Why do you have all of that?” Javi asks, standing up from the bed to take some steps away from you.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Well then tell me what it is.” He’s getting more annoyed as the moments go past.

“It was for my degree,” You say, shifting from foot-to-foot, “I don’t understand what the problem is?”

“The problem is, it’s all fucking lies!” He runs a hand over his face, more annoyed at himself for shouting at you than anything else, “It’s all fucking lies and you believe it.”

He watches as your face drops, he can see the glassing over of your eyes, “I-” You try to speak, “I’m sorry?” It’s more of an offering, like you don’t know what else to do.

“All of that shit?” He asks, pointing to the now closed drawer, “Fucking propaganda for this country to seem like it had control, when all it fucking did was make everything worse.”

“Javi, please,” You beg now, taking a step towards him with your hands open in surrender, “Why don’t you sit down and take a breath?”

He can feel himself shaking his head, stepping backwards until he can feel the handle of your door, twisting it to open. He thinks he’s saying sorry, telling you that he’s sorry, but he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he has to get out of there and away from you, almost running from the house and into his truck.

It’s not until he’s halfway to home that he can feel that panic take over, pulling over on the side of the road, knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel. He takes some deep breaths, trying to understand why his brain has gone from 0-100 so quickly, and all he can think of is that you’re just like everyone else in this damn town, thinking that he was a hero, that he’d played his part properly, correctly, in bringing that bastard down. I’d the wondering about what you’d think of him if you knew what he’d really done, the amount of blood actually on his hands, the fact he wasn’t here there when Murphy shot the bastard.

It’s that feeling of inadequacy that haunt him in bed that night, led against the pillows, other side cold and empty when all he wishes is that he’d stayed, let you curl into him so that he could get at least a few hours of rest. Even though he never stays the night, always leaving you with a press of lips to your head, the small hours of the morning where you’re sleeping against him are the most peaceful he thinks he’s ever had.

So, staring at his ceiling, red numbers from his clock staring him down as the hours pass, all he can think about it what the fuck he’s going to do, how he’s going to explain that this has nothing to do with you and what it had to do with your degree, and everything to do with the way he thinks if you knew exactly what had happened, outside of what the American press has told you, you’d probably hate him.

293 notes · View notes

wolf-tail · 2 months

Text

Since I'm far more comfortable being weird on 40k tumblr than I used to be, I'm gonna say some unhinged things.

Now that you've all been thoroughly warned, I'm thinking about which Primarchs would be the best or worst to deal with if they got pregnant:

Lion-You do not know he is pregnant. He would preffer it that way. He seems crankier, meaner, more reclusive, amd just a bit rounder, but you don't know about it until he winces and slinks off during a meeting, then returns a few hours later with babby in tow. No one is allowed to touch or even look at babby for at least a week.

Guilliman-He's doing pretty ok, but very anxious. Lots of body aches, but you have a hell of a time trying to convince him to ease off the work and rest. You often find him fast asleep on top of his desk. Constantly craving olives. Overall not too bad.

Horus-VERY proud papa-to-be. Constantly showing off his big ol belly and bragging about how knocked up he is. He has a canonical breeding kink, he's wearing every embarrassing maternity t-shirt he can find. Mortifying ordeal, but could be way worse.

Konrad-OH GOD, whoever impregnated this man, answer for your fucking crimes. Anyone who so much as breathes too loud in his vicinity is a skinless splatter on the pavement. Mercifully, he doesn't seem to want to leave his room. Just avoid him as much as possible and you might survive.

Sanguinius-Glowing, positively GLOWING! He's vibrant, elegant, happy, the type of thing people tell you being pregnant is like to try and convince you to have kids. Happy to let anyone rub his tummy. (Would he even give live birth or just lay an egg?) He's eepy, so very sleeby eepy. He just wants to nap. That just serves to make it cuter. The only issue is that in the later weeks he starts going broody. That will not be a fun time.

Fulgrim- Also an idealistic glowing beauty, but probably is a struggling a lot more than he lets on. You just know he's nauseous as hell and his feet hurt like a bitch. Give him a foot rub , he deserves it. Has a bunch of super long baby names picked out, Definitely rearranged the nursery seventeen times at least because it's "not good enough". And the second fact that thing comes out the womb it's dripped tf out. Little fuck is leaving the hospital in a Dior onesie. Fulgrim insists on doing his makeup before leaving the maternity ward, because he refuses to look as worn out as he is. Let this poor man REST.

Ferrus-Oof. I don't know much about him, but he strikes me as the type to have body image issues. Baby has a normal ass name like "John" or smth. When it's born he's scared to hold it with his metal hands, but bub doesn't care, falls right asleep in them.

Perturabo-ABORTION. He has no time for kids. But in the chance he does keep it, he's even more cranky and insufferable than ever. Yells at his own belly bc MiniPerty is kicking him while he's trying to work. Sending u prayers🙏

Dorn-Hmmm, idkkkk. I have not read enough about him. Dorn fans answer this one for me. But from what I do know he'd have a hard time describing as his complicated emotions about it. Would swaddle the Dornling in his grandpa's blanket.

Angron-OH FUCCKKKKKKK. You thought Konrad was bad!? The sad part is, all of the parts of him that want and love the baby are being punished for it by the nails. But can you fucking imagine a pregnant hormonal Angron!? The galaxy shakes in fear. The second sperm met egg, Khorne shifted uncomforably upon the Skull Throne.

Magnus-He's having a great time! Studying every parenting book he can find (TAKE NOTES EMPS!), getting cool belly tattoos, doing mysterious pregnancy rituals, psychically communicating with MiniMagnus once they're developed enough. Has a BIG belly, sometimes hard to maneuver. Probably twins. Sons always happy to give it a lil rub when he walks last. Often found lounging in his tower, lazily talking to bubby while reading, go ahead and give him a back massage.

Mortarion- As much as I think he'd look cute with a baby, I don't think he was ever at any point in his life healthy enough to carry one to term. Isha, fix his uterus, he needs to be a daddy immediately. If he was miraculously to get preggers, he'd definitely be cranky, but not overwhelmingly so. He'd love the kid, but occasionally pat his tummy and gently admonish it for being such a little nuisance.

Corax- Drawing a total blank here. Raven guardies tell me plz. But he might go broody too, goes with the bird theming.

The Khan- Continues riding his bike until he's physically too big to do so. You can't even try to stop him. Little Jag is travelling at Mach Fuck You every day. Labor is 5 seconds long, and as soon as the kid's delivered he's strapping it to his chest and getting right back in the saddle.

Vulkan-Biggest cuddlebug EVER!!! Joyous and glowing, always up for a belly rub. You just know his ass is 8 months pregnant and still in the forge, working on little practice weapons for his lil Salamander. His water will probaby break and he'll beg you to let him quench a sword in his own amniotic fluid (don't, that's gross) Prone to hot flashes, get him a nice cold drink plz.

Lorgar-A baby is joyous blessing! He's insanely happy about it, going on about how his body was "chosen to bring forth a wondrous being". Touching the tum is a religious experience. Gets a new tattoo to celebrate, if he can find the room.

Alpharius/Omegon: You either have no idea which one's pregnant, or they all somehow get pregnant at once. Twins are a guarantee either way.

#wh40k #mpreg #primarchs

98 notes · View notes

pretending-ican-write · 6 months

Text

Cowboy Up - Pt.6

A/n: It's here y'all! After this part we'll be getting into the show and I can't wait to start incorporating my own character into the episodes!

I need your input! I'm currently going through the show episode by episode to pull out what I want to use for this fic and I've reached ep5 when Travis first turns up and I am seriously undecided about his relationship with the reader. It is more than likely that they would have interacted on the circuit but I'm split between him having a flirty relationship or a older-brother-protective vibe. Let me know your thoughts!

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

WC: 1649

Previous part - Next part

---

That summer was one of the hottest y/n could ever recall having in Montana. Unfortunately hot weather didn’t negate the fact that there was always work to do on the ranch. Yesterday one of the freshly backed colts had thrown a fit in the corral resulting in kicking the fence hard enough to break it. So the job for the day was to put a new log into the fence so they could use the corral again.

Y/n had abandoned jeans in favour of shorts out in the sun, a tank top and she had opted to swap her cowboy hat for the cap Kayce had given her for her birthday despite having claimed she’d never wear it around the wranglers. Lloyd was holding the log up whilst she worked to secure it to the post.

Around the corral the other hands were doing their own work and a small group of them were hiding from the sun in the shade of the barn. They were mostly busy watching y/n do her own work, more specifically how she looked in her shorts.

“God damn that girl has an ass,” one of them commented.

Another one agreed, “you just know that she’d give you a good time.”

Colby and Ryan were a little way off cleaning tack getting more annoyed at every comment the men were making. Ryan was getting more frustrated by what they were saying and how oblivious she was to how they were treating her. His friend was less concerned about that and more occupied trying to stop the hand from doing something he would regret.

Rip emerged from the barn to say something to them when Ryan snapped at them, “will you shut the fuck up? It’s disgusting to hear you talk about her like that. She’s your boss’ daughter for fuck sake have some damn respect. Someone’ll rip your tongues out for saying that next time.”

Y/n overheard his shouting from across the corral and couldn’t help but smile to herself at his defence of her. Ever since Rip had threatened him (and the rest of the bunkhouse but they clearly hadn’t taken those threats to heart) after finding her asleep in Ryan’s bunk years ago, he’d been very careful with his interactions with the younger woman. They’d remained close friends, and he’d been instrumental in her integration with the wranglers, but it had never gone further than that despite what both of them not-so-secretly wanted to happen.

Lloyd looked at the smile on her face and rolled his eyes, “y’all have been pining after each other for years. When will it end?”

“If I had a say in it it would’ve been over before anyone noticed but if he has it his way it seems like never,” y/n sighed, “I think Rip’s threat from forever ago ruined it.”

He watched Ryan whose eyes were on her, “might go insane if I have to watch y’all making eyes at each other for much longer. You and I can both handle Rip if needs be.”

She laughed at the idea of someone ‘handling’ Rip. The only people she believed were able to handle the foreman were her father and Beth, no matter how poorly her sister treated the man. In reality, Rip had a soft spot for the youngest Dutton and Lloyd was the only wrangler on the ranch that would stand a chance arguing against Rip. He left her to go and deal with something else, leaving Colby to help with the other side of the fence.

“Swear he woulda murdered them if it had gone on much longer,” her friend joked, “practically fire in his eyes when he saw how they were looking at you.”

Y/n shook her head, “I’ve been trying to get him to make a move since I was 18, Colby. I don’t think he’s gonna start now.”

“I love both of you but I will help Lloyd lock you in the tack room if this goes on any longer. Feel sorry for the poor bastard watching this for years. I’m done with it after a few months,” Colby laughed, “just make a move for everyone’s benefit.”

-/-/-

That evening the temperature had cooled down from the scorcher of the afternoon but it was still uncomfortable, hot enough that y/n was still wearing shorts. Most of the hands were sitting around the table playing cards but she had chosen to sit the game out in favour of reading the book she’d been waiting weeks for. Every once in a while some of the conversation would break through her reading bubble and y/n would laugh at the insults that got thrown around half-heartedly.

After a little while the focus of their conversation moved away from their game of poker to their romance lives, or more accurately their struggles with romance being wranglers. They were complaining about how difficult it was with their work schedules to meet girls. Y/n shook her head slightly at their trivial problems.

“Reckon we’d all be better off if Dutton over there gave a piece of ass up,” a hand commented nonchalantly.

As soon as the words had come out of his mouth, Ryan was out of his chair as was Colby to stop his friend doing something. Colby grabbed his shoulder and arm, keeping him firmly away from the other hand.

“Hit a nerve have I? Thought she was supposed to be off limits to the bunkhouse? Just you getting at or you sharing it with your friend? Care to let us join in on-”

Before he was able to finish his sentence, Lloyd had punched him, “you don’t speak about her like that, ever. Anyone thinks that’s okay and there’s more than just me to answer for. Rip will know about this.”

The tension in the room was broken by the sound of the door slamming shut and they looked up to see that y/n was no longer sitting on the sofa.

Lloyd looked over at Ryan, “I think you best follow her. Now or never, son.”

-/-/-

Ryan exited the bunkhouse and saw her sat on the corral fence in the fading light, cigarette smoke drifting into the sky. He headed across the drive to join her and leant against the fence beside her, letting her finish the cigarette before starting the conversation. When she was done, y/n threw the stub into the sand and watched silently as it smoked on the ground. Her eyes remained fixed on the mountains as if she could pretend he wasn’t there if she didn’t look at him despite the fact his arm was practically touching her thigh.

“You gonna say anything?” She asked.

Ryan sighed, “was kinda waiting for you to start the conversation this time, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to say. I really don’t need you jumping to protect me the moment one of them says something about me. Can’t be a ranch hand and not expect someone to say something about it. I’m a big girl. Plus Rip has it handled, something you haven’t seemed to forget,” y/n added bitterly.

“You can’t seriously expect me to just sit there and let them say that shit about you y/n? No one should say that,” he argued.

Y/n looked at him, “that’s exactly what I expect. You got no right to be that overprotective with the people we fuckin’ work with when you’re just as bad as them sitting staring at me like that.”

“The fuck are you tryna say,” Ryan growled.

She sighed and turned around, getting off the fence to move away from him. Y/n turned away to take another cigarette from her pocket to avoid answering his question. He watched her for a moment as she took a long inhale before turning back to look at him.

“It’s all good and well you tryna fight anyone who has something to say about me but we both know you ain’t gonna do anything about it except just sit there and stare because you’re fuckin afraid! I’m so over it Ryan either make the move I’ve been waiting for you to make for 10 years or stop acting like you get a say in my life,” she ranted at him.

Ryan took her in in front of him, cigarette between her lips and frustration in her eyes before making his decision. Within one step he was in front of her, taking a moment to see if she would stop him before taking the cigarette out of her mouth and putting it out under his boot. Y/n inhaled sharply when he placed his hands gently on her hips, using them to walk her backwards until her back hit the barn wall.

Ryan kept one hand on her hip and moved the other to her cheek, “last chance to change your mind, sweetheart.”

“Been waiting for you since I was 18 don’t make me wait any longer,” she whispered into the space between them.

With no more hesitation he kissed her. Y/n responded by fisting her hands in the front of his shirt. After a moment, he pulled away and rested his forehead against her. Y/n allowed her eyes to fall shut as she reveled in the moment she’d been imagining for so long.

Ryan kissed her again, “do I live up to expectations sweetheart?”

“Better than I could have hoped,” y/n smiled, “we’re gonna have to be careful though. I reckon I can handle Rip if I need to but if dad finds out he won’t hesitate to fire you and I won’t let you leave here.”

He nodded, “I’ll follow your lead. Colby won’t say anything and Lloyd’ll just be happy that he no longer has to deal with me staring at you longingly.”

“Gonna be fun sneaking round. Never got to do it in high school,” she teased.

Ryan laughed, “you’ll be worth it sweetheart.”

#ryan yellowstone #ryan yellowstone x reader #yellowstone #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone tv #dutton ranch #dutton!reader #ian bohen

142 notes · View notes

nonotnolan · 1 year

Text

Just Another Sunday

"Eric, what the hell happened to you?" He looked up from his phone with a confused look on his face, as if he hadn't suddenly transformed into a stacked muscle God. I couldn't help but start to hyperventilate a bit. Weird stuff had been happening all over town this week, but until now the three of us had been spared.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said, pausing for a few moments before shifting back over to his phone.

"Like hell you don't!" I yelled, stomping across the Joey's kitchen to yell directly in his face. His casual body posture confirmed that I was still dealing with Eric, at least-- my self-survival instincts were telling me that yelling at a man this large was an easy way to get the shit kicked out of me. Joey, Eric, and I had been easy targets for bullies our whole lives. Or at least, we had been until whatever the hell just happened to Eric. "Something weird is going on! You suddenly gained 6 inches, two shades of skin tan, and god only knows how many pounds of muscle. Did you really not notice that happening?"

He laughed, ruffling the top of my head before speaking. "What do you mean I gained all this? C'mon, Bro. I've looked like this for years, you know that." His wide grin deflated a bit as I glared at him, unblinking. "Bro, you're freaking me out. I've always looked like this. Look, here's my camera roll. This is us just last week. Remember?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. Our friend Joey took this photo for us... only it was the two of us clutching our pudgy stomachs and making fun of everyone outside enjoying the last weekend of swimsuit weather. Now here was Eric, every bit as shirtless and as sexy as the people that we had been mocking.

"Seriously, Bro, you're freaking me out a little." Eric pressed the back of his palm against my forehead. "Seems like you might be running a fever or something. I think you'd better stay home and get some rest. I'll ask Master Joey if you can share my bed in his servant's quarters."

Hang on... Master Joey? Something about that didn't sound right. I tried to figure out why that phrase sounded so peculiar, but I was finding it a bit hard to concentrate on anything. It almost felt like a headache, but in a forgetful sort of way. "Hang on... why would I share your bed?" I asked him. "We both have beds in Master Joey's quarters. Something weird is going on. Pull up that photo again, would you?"

We looked at the photo of me and Eric enjoying the Hot Tub one last time before swimsuit season was over. Master Joey loved taking photos of his servants and their masculinity-- all of our phones had tons of photos like this in our camera roll. Why had I been freaking out earlier?

"Sorry, Eric, I'm not sure what's wrong with me," I said, rubbing my hand over my head. Feeling the buzzed stubble always helped calm me down. Well, that and working out at the gym, but that wasn't really an option right now.

"Don't sweat it, Bro," he said, thumping me on the back. "I'm sure you'll feel better tomorrow. Anyway, it's time for our evening progress pic for Master Joey." Eric set up the timer on his phone while I peeled back my tank top. Master Joey loved getting pictures of our hot bodies each night, and we loved knowing that our master would masturbate himself to sleep at the thought of us.

A thought crossed my mind. "Hey Eric... is there any reason we don't let Master Joey have sex with us every night?

He laughed, thumping me on the back a few more times. "You know, it's funny... I was just thinking the same thing. Having Master Joey's cock up my ass actually sounds pretty nice. Should we make that our new evening ritual?"

"I think we should," I said, nodding in agreement. What was the point in having such a plump and meaty ass if no one was going to use it? And anyway, it was the least we could do for the man who allowed us to serve under him. Weird stuff has been happening all over town this week. It's a relief to know that Master Joey will always keep us safe.

#male transformation #gay male transformation #chronovac #reality shift #retcon #nerd to jock #muscle jock

374 notes · View notes

partycatty · 9 months

Note

Hello!

I read your last story with the Lin Kuei brothers and it was really amazing. Could I please ask for a story with the Lin Kuei brothers (I love them❤) where they watch their s/o's dance performance at Madam Bo's? Kind regards!

GOD. YES. and thank you pookie :D

lin kuei trio > dancer

bi-han, kuai liang, and tomas vrbada watching the reader dance at madam bo's!!

notes: KUAI FAVORITISM AGAIN IM SO SORRY. this is a sweet change from the heinous shit i've been writing eeeeee kicking my feet and twirling my hair! also i know that says s/o but i had some ideas i just couldn't ignore..

masterlist <3

♡

bi-han >

• somehow, the lin kuei brothers are convinced by the earthrealm chosen ones to attend a dinner at madam bo's after their victory at armageddon. come on, just once! bi-han only attends because his brothers do, and because liu kang might show offense if he declined. so, here he was, pretending he wasn't enjoying the food as much as he was.

• as his mouth hung open to take a bite of a dumpling, kung lao and johnny find a couple of spare instruments and get that "you thinkin' what i'm thinkin'?" smirk. nobody in their sane mind thought either one of them were musically enclined, but then suddenly there was a two-man band singing and galloping about. you, as one of the earthrealmers, start laughing and clap to the beat, as does the entire group. kenshi, liu kang, kuai liang, and raiden chuckle, syzoth, tomas and ashrah get up to dance, and bi-han puts his chopsticks down with crossed arms and a frown.

• he couldn't help but be mildly amused at the ridiculousness, scoffing to himself. but his scowled expression turns soft when he glances over at you and watches you lift yourself from the chair you sat on and shimmied over to the dancing group, starting to enjoy yourself. you moved in such a coordinated way that bi-han was only accustomed to seeing in combat. he didn't think such elegance could be used... for fun.

• the entire group is mostly ignoring bi-han, but not intentionally. everyone's just caught up in their own enjoyment. you playfully dance to the impromptu rhythm, twirling ashrah and bumping shoulders with kung lao. as you twirl, you lock eyes with the cryomancer and he tenses up when he realizes he'd been staring.

• "come on, blueberry ice!" you shout over the crowd and music, extending an arm. "you're too damn rigid all the time. loosen up with me?"

• "no," he replies, accidentally far colder than necessary. you groan.

• "it's one night! i'll tell johnny not to record. you work too hard. shang tsung is in prison, and our timeline's intact. that doesn't deserve at least a little shimmy?"

• "i don't dance," bi-han again replies, leaning back in his chair. he wouldn't admit it, but he finds your persistence cute. perhaps he won't give in just to see you keep trying.

• you try to do anything possible to get him to join you without actually pissing him off. the lasso trick doesn't work, and neither does the "pass on the wave" trick. you give up, throwing your hands in the air in a surrendering pose before walking backwards back into the group.

• the dancing and celebrating goes well into the night, and the entire time, his icy ass is PLANTED in that damn chair. he eventually becomes a part of the furniture.

• kuai liang leans over to speak to his brother with a grin.

• "you aren't going to dance with her, brother?" kuai liang asks, cheeks tinted with pink from the alcohol. "i understand our clan has much work to tend to, but must you have turned her down on a night like this?"

• "i am not dipping so low as to act a fool," bi-han replies, eyes fixated on your dancing still. you're now dancing with johnny in a ridiculous duo choreography you're pulling from your ass as you go.

• "bi-han, you are as dull as you are sharp," kuai liang laughs. "she was showing interest."

• bi-han launches his glance to his pyromancer brother, eyebrows shooting up. he doesn't seem to believe it, but then it clicks. you wanted to dance with him! YOU wanted to dance with HIM! it wasn't just a kind offer, dammit, it was flirting!!

• you let out a loud laugh above the crowd as you enjoy the festivities. as you calm down, you once again lock eyes with the grandmaster. it feels like only you two know of this secret tension. you extend your arm with a raised brow and flushed grin.

• perhaps one night of foolishness won't hurt.

♡

kuai liang >

• a quiet night in the shirai ryu was unheard of, considering it's still trying to pick itself up. kuai liang was always so damn stressed with work, training hanzo and finding more recruits while also upgrading the compound.

• you were one of the first recruits, so you held a sense of seniority within the clan. kuai liang often confided in you regarding these aforementioned stressors. you were his favorite rubber duck to rant to while he tried to figure things out.

• his head was buried in his hands as he sighed deeply, books and papers strewn across his workspace. you frowned, standing in the doorway.

• "how about a night away from the clan, grandmaster?" you'd politely suggest. you didn't actually expect for him to agree so easily... or know a place... or invite you.

• madam bo greets kuai liang with a sweet smile, offering up whatever she cooked for the night. he insists that anything she makes is perfect, and requests one of everything.

• you sit across the table from your grandmaster, not really sure on what to talk about. it was always work, training, and hatred for bi-han. but now you had to talk about... everything else? even so, his tense shoulders easily surpass your own nerves.

• "at ease, grandmaster," you gently say, reaching across to put a hand on his arm. he visually does ease, comforted by your touch. "enjoy yourself."

• hold on sorry i'm tweakin rn he is so fucking fine i need to chew on his man bun

• "i appreciate you more than you'll know," he replies gently with a smile. "i needed this, i suppose. to be away from a table that isn't cluttered. to eat a nice meal..."

• the plates are cleared as you two chat peacefully about anything and everything. as it turns out, you actually had a great deal in common with your grandmaster. and damn, in the restaurant's dim lighting, his features really stood out..

• as the thought crosses your mind, a small band of fengjian musicians step up to the center of the room and start to play a slow, sweet song. kuai liang swivels in his chair to view the band before turning toward you.

• "do you dance?" he asks suddenly, a little smirk playing at his lips.

• "d-do i...?" you stammer out, almost choking on your tea.

• "dance," kuai liang repeats. "do you?"

• "i-i was a dancer when i was younger. on occasion. yes."

• suddenly, kuai liang stands up and holds his hand out to you. your jaw drops.

• "i shouldn't," you insist shyly. "you're..."

• "i'm your grandmaster," he finishes your sentence. damn, this guy does that often. "yes, yes, i know. but you said tonight is to enjoy ourselves. tonight, i'm not your grandmaster. i'm kuai liang, and i'm asking for a dance."

• he eventually pulls you into a small crowd of other dancers, and you two start with shy steps, eventually understanding each other's style and speed. you wouldn't believe it, but he's actually a good dancer! he follows your every move and allows you to lead. if he focused even a little bit more on you, he'd surely lose his footing. you were just so natural with your movements. there was an attraction there that wasn't there before, and it made kuai liang feel impossibly hotter.

• a small crowd gathers at your coordinated dance. anyone would've assumed it was choreographed ahead of time, but this was entirely you two having a deep understanding of each other's movements. the music felt like a fuzzy white noise and the people disappeared. it was just you and kuai liang.

• the songs ends with you in a dip. you're both catching your breath, flushed, and giggly at the spontaneity.

• "i need nights out more often, if they're with you," he'll mumble to you still in his dip.

♡

tomas >

• tomas only had one objective that day: to determine if kung lao and raiden were ready for to be recruited. what he didn't anticipate, however, was that tonight was the night you were meant to perform at madam bo's.

• a tiny stage sat in the center of the room, and you stepped atop the platform. a couple of men to the side played their instruments for you, and you instantly got to work. as your hips swayed, your flowy garments swung around you, like a perfect gust of wind twirling you.

• tomas stood on the roof alongside his brothers, ogling at the sight. his jaw dropped behind his mask, and his eyes softened. he was supposed to be the big strong leader of the staged confrontation, but god. it was just so hard to be stone cold in front of such a beauty.

• the entire room was so focused on your dance moves. tomas could only mentally equate you to a gorgeous swirl of smoke. or perhaps a cloud—?

• bi-han elbows him in the side with a scowl.

• "focus, you idiot. the farmers, not some foolish performer. do you see them?"

• tomas is that meme where the guy goes "SHE IS VERY GORGEOUS TO ME!!! ☝️"

• tomas shakes his head with a light blush, partially shocked with himself for being so distracted by just one person. he's a ninja. he's killed, defended earthrealm, seen so much shit, and yet he's winded by a dancer. he just had to know more, had to see if you were as alluring up close as you were from afar.

• the men drop from their position and wait outside of the entrance for a moment, mentally preparing themselves. once they are, tomas enters first and stands in front of kung lao and raiden menacingly.

• just as planned, him and madam bo go at it with a fake argument ending in a fight. madam bo gets flung over the railing, mere feet away from where you froze on your little stage. tomas stops completely, forgetting that the two farmers were charging at him. he glances over at you, and how your movement stopped and was now terrified. you scream and take cover behind the bar, peering over to watch the fight.

• he was so trapped in his adoration for you that he forgets to fight back when raiden lands a damn hard punch to his chest, sending him backward. groaning and standing up, he chucks a smoke bomb at the ground and vanishes completely.

• then, before you could process anything, a puff of smoke shrouds your vision and tomas is beside you. you yelp out and crawl backward, terrified by his strength and sudden appearance. making sure bi-han and kuai liang are adequately occupied, tomas leans down to you.

• "hey, hey," he'll say cautiously with his hands out. "shh. you're alright. you're in no danger." your breathing slows from the hyperventilation, looking up at him with innocent eyes. he almost melts then and there. if he could turn into a comical puff of smoke, he would.

• a lin kuei ninja crashes down the railing and lands on top of the bar. you flinch, tomas doesn't.

• "what do you want? money?" you reply in a weak voice, still uneased and confused. tomas frowns, coming up with an answer. he doesn't blame you for being confused when three colorful ninjas and their little sidekicks saunter into a small village restaurant.

• "no, no money," he replies quietly, now crouching down to your level. "everything will make sense in time. now... now please—" tomas gestures toward a nearby exit. "be safe. i apologize for frightening you."

• he extends a hand out, and you take it. for a moment, it feels like it's only you two in the room. no "dead" madam bo, no raiden kicking the shit out of scorpion, or kung lao flinging his hat at sub-zero. it's just you and this mysterious, muscly man in grey.

• "your dancing was... beautiful, by the way," he'll admit sheepishly, his eyes showing his smile behind the mask. "i hope to return to watch it, sometime."

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 #bi han #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #sub zero #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang #scorpion x reader #mk scorpion #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada #smoke x reader #mk smoke

381 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 7 months

Text

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______

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

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers

My Masterlist!

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

183 notes · View notes