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yunjardi · 9 months

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my heart bel♡ngs to daddy [series]

[young sugar daddy!jake × fem!reader]

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[click here for this series' masterlist to read previous chapters, general warnings, and playlist]

[!!chapter warnings!!: smut [mdni], angst, some fluff?, DADDY KINK, overstimulation, unprotected sex, reader gets lifted up, smoking weed, arguing, crying, mentions of food, mentions of toxic family (!!!) lmk if i missed anything!]

*sorry for any grammar errors

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-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-

chapter 15: lipstick stains

upon arriving home from the japan trip, you gave perry some extra food whilst telling him how much fun you had as if he was listening to your rambling. traveling is fun and all, but nothing beats the feeling of being able to take a shower in the comfort of your home before climbing into your own bed. really the only downside to coming back from a few days off is the work shifts you have to make up. good thing you had an earlier than usual shift; earlier shifts mean you'll have more free time later in the day when things get really busy.

it was quick for you to doze off considering that you had such an eventful few days and now you were thinking about working. but before you could fully fall asleep, you remembered to text jake. you knew he'd worry if you didn't text him at least once before you went to bed.

your tummy filled with butterflies from simply texting the guy, so you could only imagine how much more excited you'll be to see him.

an uneasiness crept up on you while you read the texts over and over again.

why did he speak to you as if he's your boyfriend?

why is he always so affectionate?

'whatever, it doesn't matter, i'll just sleep,' you forced yourself to stop thinking about it in order to get to sleep.

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you woke up at the ripe hour of 3PM in the afternoon which left you with only about an hour and a half to get ready for your shift. springing out of bed, you ran to begin getting ready.

since it was your first day back, you wanted to look extra appealing to the customers because tips are always appreciated, right?

you made sure to put on a bit of makeup to hide the fact that you'd woken up so late, and you headed off to the bar.

the bar had become a bit of an anxiety trigger ever since that girl came around, but you came to realize that she was probably just trying to start some shit because she was most likely bored. you were there to work and nothing else; she just happened to get in your way.

before you could even get to the break room to put your personal belongings in your locker, an excited yeji engulfed you in a tight hug.

"ah, it feels like forever since i last worked a shift with you! innie and i missed you so bad while you were away with your little boyfie in japan!" yeji blabbed excitedly while you two were still hugging, "innie was all sulky because he was stuck with me the whole time ha! you already know how i like to annoy him on purpose."

it made you feel genuine joy to know that your friends were at home waiting for you to come back. you decided to wait until you could all meet up to give them souvenirs that you bought them.

"i never wanna leave you guys again," you remarked as you two broke the hug to begin your shift. yeji nodded in agreement while you guys made sure your outfits were in check before heading out.

the feeling of mixing drinks again felt oddly comforting. after all, it's all you used to do before jake came around; taking care of your customers was something that was important to you because it was once your main source of income. but now that jake was in your life, you didn't have to worry too much about how many tips you made, though it still boosted your confidence to see stacks of cash being given to you.

secretly, you'd been saving up all your tips to get jake a nice gift as a way to thank him for everything. sex was still somewhat a way to 'thank him,' but your heart wanted to make something truly meaningful for some reason. you also didn't want to use jake's money to buy a gift that's for him, so that was a reason to work harder.

your plan was to buy a designer white, long-sleeve button up shirt and make a recreation of the iconic maison margiela kiss-mark shirt. you thought of buying him an original one, but 1. there are only a few in the entire world, and 2. it's a crazy expensive piece of clothing. but it's more personalized and truly one of a kind if you remade it yourself, so you were trying to earn and save as many tips as you possibly could. your backup plan if you didn't have enough money was to make him some sort of baked good that was decorated to say something not-so pg-13 as a little joke. you felt more driven to put even higher quality work into your job because of this. you almost didn't want your shift to end because you were hungry for as many tips you could get. plus, you were having a great workday since no one who's previously messed with you during a shift has shown up.

when the time came for your workday to end, you eagerly walked back into the staff lounge to gather your belongings and head home to count up your money. you hoped and prayed that you could slide by with the money you'd earned.

you wanted to give something, even if it wasn't much, back to him for giving you what you feel you didn't deserve. you always believed that he could put his time, money, and energy into someone or something else, but after he told you that he chose you, you couldn't help but feel guilty for the times you pushed him away, for the times you didn't trust him because you barely trust anyone.

'i want to prove myself to you,' you thought to yourself as you walked to the bus stop, 'i need and want to trust you.'

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the bus ride felt so long which made you even more antsy to get home, but you were more than happy to hop off the bus and speed-walk to your place.

you barged into your house, locking the door behind you before busting into your room to quickly count up your money. if you had enough, you were immediately going out to get the materials you needed so that you could finish tonight and give him his gift the next day.

your heart beat got faster as you realized that you had more than enough money to get everything you needed for your project and some supplies to bake something for him as well as an extra surprise. letting out an excited squeal, you quickly changed out of your work clothes to speed to the shopping center that was closing in an hour and a half.

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you swore that your heart rate hadn't slowed down until you got back home from the shops, hands full of everything you needed to begin making your gifts for jake.

you decided to mix the ingredients for a tray of brownies and put it in the oven so that you had enough time to complete the shirt just in time for the brownies to be baked. you managed to quickly get everything in the oven and began prepping the shirt soon after.

laying out the (outrageously overpriced) white gucci long-sleeve button up on the clean counter, you applied a shade of red lipstick that jake had bought you and began meticulously placing gently kiss marks on the top part of the shirt. it was, surprisingly, turning out better than you anticipated. once the lipstick was set, you took out some fabric paint you bought from the store to touch up the kiss marks, afterwards putting paint sealing solution onto all the kiss marks to further protect them.

as if the timing was perfect, you heard the oven beep. you hung the shirt up in your bedroom before placing the warm brownies on the counter to cool down. you couldn't help but smile to yourself as you imagined what jake's reaction may be to your gifts, especially the brownies.

once they were cool enough, you spelt out 'i love ur huge dick' in chocolate letters as a joke. you knew jake would have a good laugh before eating them. placing the finished brownies in a clear plastic container, you put them aside to begin packaging the shirt in a flat box.

there was one last touch to the gift that you'd been meaning to do for a little while.

you dug out a small ring box and placed a spare key to your house inside it. you figured that he deserved to have one considering how much he took care of you. plus, everyone, 'everyone' meaning yeji and jeongin, who you'd trust with your life had one, therefore it'd be fitting if jake had one.

placing the dainty little ring box inside the same box that contained the shirt, you sealed it so it was ready for you to take to his house the next day.

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the next day came quickly, and you hopped out of bed to gussy up before calling a taxi to head to his place since it'd be quicker to do it that way than if you were to go on the underground train.

you wore a cute, short, pleated white skirt paired with a black and white prada cardigan, white knee-high stockings, and some simple black prada heels to tie the outfit together. you wanted to look pretty for jake since you were showing up to his place unannounced.

the taxi ride to his place was quite long considering that he lived on the opposite side of the city, the city being heavily divided by social class, but it was interesting to look around at the other houses.

finally, you arrived outside the gate of jake's house, typing in the security code that jake gave you to open the gate. now, you had to practically trek across his extravagant front yard and circular driveway just to get to the damn front door. the walk you had to take throughout the front yard felt longer than the taxi ride.

you reached out to ring the doorbell, hearing it echo through the house from outside. since jake's ahem- mansion was quite large, you always expected to wait a minute before he actually came to let you in; it was honestly painfully awkward to just stand there. finally, you heard the door unlock, and you were greeted by a shirtless jake clad in only joggers and a small towel around his nape. you also could help but notice that his hair was now a shade of brown which made you laugh do yourself because of how you made fun of him about doing bald. regardless, his image was making you blush.

"oh, princess," jake said with surprise in his tone, "i didn't expect you to come this early in the day." he smiled sheepishly as he witnessed the shock in your face from seeing him shirtless as if you hadn't seen him in this state a million times. "well, i came early because i brought gifts!" you smiled at jake as he guided you inside, his hand on your lower back. "that reminds me," jake smiled, "i have something for you as well." you couldn't help but become shy at the thought of jake getting you a gift even though he does it literally all the time.

once you got into his main lounge area, you set the clear brownie container and the gift box side by side on his coffee table. jake hovered over the container to read the little message you left on the brownie slab, his giggle turning into his signature laugh. jake moved toward you, hugging you from behind.

"well, if you love it so much, why don't you fuck it?" jake asked you teasingly, gently biting and kissing your neck. "now?" you asked with wide eyes to which jake responded with a hum, the feeling of jake's hard becoming prominent against your back. "if you say so," you shrugged, trying to tease him by seeming nonchalant.

jake moved onto one side of the couch, tossing the towel that was once around his nape onto the table whilst inviting you to sit on his lap.

he pulled you into a messy kiss as you began to grind your hips down hard against his, jake feeling the soft moans you were letting out against his lips.

without breaking the kiss, jake managed to get you out of your clothes, besides your knee high stockings which jake found incredibly sexy, and have you grinding on his bulge. you moved your hands to pull his joggers and boxers off, still as impressed as ever at the sight of his cock. pushing your hips toward him, you took hold of his member and put it against your lower stomach, admiring how deep his cock would be buried inside you. seeing you 'measure' how deep he would be turned him on even more, which he didn't even think was possible considering the fact that he's already fully hard and hot and bothered.

jake quickly lifted your hips, impatient and wanting to be inside you. feeling his thick tip pass through the first few inches of your entrance made you go insane, your walls already tightening around jake's cock. "it barely fits yet you still take every inch so well, princess," jake praised, "now be a good girl and start moving for me, okay?" you nodded in compliance as you gently lifted your hips and collided into his, jake letting out a satisfied groan. jake was so deep inside you that you swore you could feel him all the way in your stomach.

he let you bounce on his cock, adoring how cute you were while moaning as you fell into spells of pleasure. "fuck," you let out a whiny moan, biting your lip gently afterward, "you feel so good, jakey. it's so deep inside me." jake smirked at the way he could feel your thighs gently trembling on top of his, knowing that you were falling apart over his dick.

at this point in time, jake was fully just thinking with his dick which led him to swiftly get up off the couch, still holding you, and begin fucking you while standing up.

your eyes were rolling back as you moaned loudly for him. you were so overtaken by pleasure that you couldn't even let him know that you were about to cum. the feeling of your cum running down jake's hard-on had him fucking you harder, faster. even after all this time, jake's stamina still takes you by surprise. no one could ever do it like jake; he's the only one who could make you go this crazy.

jake soon brought you back to the couch, still not finished with you. he roughly turned you around so that you were facing away from him and made sure you were comfortable before shoving himself back inside you. you let out a loud moan at the sensation before jake began thrusting into you from below, his hands running all over your body yet still keeping you steady at the same time. you, once again, found yourself cumming all over his cock without warning, your orgasm washing over you in waves. "mmm fuck," you whined out, still being stuffed with jake's member, "that feels so good, daddy."

not long after you, jake's orgasm also took over him, hot ropes of cum spurting into you as you tried to catch your breath. it was probably one of the craziest orgasms jake has ever had.

still quietly panting, you let jake pull out so that you could plop down on the couch next to him.

"you're fucking insane, you know that?" you asked with a light laugh once your breathing slowed down. "only because of you, you know that?" jake countered your comment, nudging you on the shoulder playfully before standing up to retrieve some wet wipes from one of the bathrooms so that you two could clean up.

"here, i'll go upstairs and get us some clothes," jake smiled at you as you now tried to hide your body away as if he hasn't seen it a million times already, "if we don't cover up soon, we'll probably end up fucking again." jake joked and let out a laugh, though you both knew his statement was fully true. taking his discarded sweatpants with him, he headed upstairs to his bedroom to fetch some clothes.

you took that time to put your underwear and bra back on before jake came back downstairs. after all, it was kinda starting to feel weird just sitting fully naked in his mansion that had huge windows off to the side from where you were sitting.

soon, jake came back fully dressed and holding out something for you to put on: one of his short-sleeve shirts, a pair of your leggings, and those mid-calf nike socks that you thought were obscurely over priced for just a pack of 4 (but you had to admit that you loved them).

"ah, i forgot your gift," jake sighed as he remembered that he'd left the gift he had for you all the way upstairs, "wait right here, i'm gonna wrap it real nice since it's still up there." he flashed his cheeky yet shy smile, slightly embarrassed that he had 1. forgotten it and 2. hadn't even packaged it yet. "you're silly," you laughed as jake dragged his socks on the marble floors to get back over to the stairs.

you took it upon yourself to get up and go place your gifts for jake over on the kitchen counter since the brownies seemed out of place just sitting on the coffee table. picking up the brownie container and gift box, you headed over to the kitchen to place them both on the counter.

glancing off to the side, you noticed two glass cups next to each other. of course, you wouldn't have thought much of it because why would you, but you couldn't help but notice that one of the cups' rims had faint traces of red lipstick on it.

suddenly, your stomach felt sick. you couldn't tell if you were upset or angry. all you knew was that you wanted to get the hell out of his house.

you sped over to the coffee table, swiftly retrieving your bag and walking into the foyer where you put on a pair of sneakers, that you usually left at his house, and walked out the door.

you didn't slam his door per se, but you closed the door loud enough to make it known that you were leaving.

quickly, you dashed down his driveway and front yard, making it outside of the gate before hailing a cab to take you home.

it took everything in your power to not start crying in the taxi, your phone now ringing off the hook with multiple calls and texts from jake wondering where the hell you ran off to.

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"yeah, and n-now i f-feel h-horrible," you blubbered to yeji over the phone after explaining the situation and how you made the gift yourself only to be confronted by lipstick stains from someone else, "i literally d-don't even w-wanna think about h-him. god, i could puke right n-now." you sniffled loudly and blowed your nose into a tissue. "my sweet y/n," yeji sighed softly, genuinely feeling for you, "i know, i know, let it all out. heck, you could even scream at me if you want to. but seriously, he's such a jerk for that." yeji continued to listen to all the little things you had to say whilst she tried her best to cheer you up.

yeji was really the only other girl you had in your life besides literally yourself. you knew that you couldn't lean on any other woman for issues like this; especially not your mom for because she's on another level of asshole-ness, you didn't talk to your siblings either, your sisters in specific who you could really use right now, at all, so without yeji, you'd probably be doomed when it came to stuff like this.

"honestly," you sniffled, "...i feel like smoking weed right now." yeji couldn't help but chuckle at you. "go ahead, girl, just be safe or you'll get it from me" yeji joked from the other line, "anyways, you know exactly who to call for that stuff."

after hanging up the phone with yeji, you went straight to your contacts, calling someone else up while trying your hardest to avoid all of the missed calls and texts from jake.

"hey, yeonjun."

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knock, knock, knock.

you sprung up from your bed upon hearing the knocks at the door.

looks like yeonjun is finally here.

you opened the door and were greeted by his sly smile as usual.

you offered him to stay the night since you two would be getting high together, and you didn't want him driving home whilst not being sober. he, of course, jumped at the opportunity.

"hey, it's been a little while," you laughed quietly as he pulled you into a hug, "thanks for showing up on such short notice."

"oh, it's no problem, really," yeonjun shrugged with a chuckle, "now that university is over, i have nothing else to do."

you led him over to your room so that he could set his bag down and get everything ready. he made sure to bring some food over as well since weed tends to make you hungry. yeonjun may seem like the type of guy to just go over to a girl's house and not think about anything but getting some action, but he cared deep down.

both of you sat on the couch, and yeonjun got everything ready for you two to start smoking.

you let him take the first hit, watching him inhale deeply before letting the smoke pass through his pretty lips.

they weren't as pretty as jake's, though.

passing the blunt over to you, he let you take a hit before he pulled you closer and put his arm around your shoulder.

"you don't look the way you usually do," yeonjun pointed out, "there's something wrong, isn't there?" you sighed out after your next hit, nodding in defeat as you rested your head on his arm. "do you wanna talk about it, beautiful? a pretty girl like you should always be smiling," yeonjun asked, not forgetting to add a dash of flirting as he usually did.

"do you remember jake?" you asked as you passed the blunt to him, him nodding before taking a hit, "i think he's seeing someone else at the same time as we're having a... thing, if you can even call it that. i went to his place earlier today to bring him some gifts that i made him the night prior as a surprise, and i saw that he had two cups in his sink, one of them stained with dark red lipstick. it made me feel shitty, so i decided to leave without saying a word to him." you explained between the passing of the almost gone blunt which prompted yeonjun to get up and prepare his bong to smoke from.

"bro is a fucking sleaze, seriously. and i'm not just saying that to make you feel better, i'm saying it because i think you deserve someone who won't lead you on like that. please don't think that you're at fault for being upset," yeonjun reassured you, putting his arm around you again and letting you fall into him after taking another deep inhale of weed, "god, he's a fucking dick for that."

you couldn't help but let a few tears roll down your face as you opened up to him about what happened. you weren't even particularly close to yeonjun, but he just felt so trustworthy. were those thoughts maybe a side effect from being high? possibly. did you really care? nope. you just needed to get everything off your chest.

"please don't cry," yeonjun said upon feeling his shirt become wet with tears, "he is not worth it. guys aren't supposed to leave women in tears like this. remember that, okay?" you nodded as yeonjun helped you dry your tears.

at this point, you couldn't even keep count of how many hits of weed you'd taken. all you knew right now is that you were overcome with intense sadness, barely being able to stop your tears as yeonjun hugged you tight, his sweet cologne tickling your nose.

you were so out of it from your emotions paired with weed that you didn't even notice how quickly you drifted off to sleep.

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waking up, you didn't expect to feel your mattress underneath you. you got up and peered out your open door, seeing yeonjun fast asleep on your couch with a cozy blanket and pillow underneath his head.

quietly, you snuck over to your bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror and staring at how shitfaced you looked from smoking all night. you decided to brush your teeth, wash your face, and fix your hair a bit to see if it'd make you feel better.

you suddenly heard the bathroom door creak open, seeing yeonjun's reflection in the mirror.

"oops, i didn't even think of knocking," he looked down sheepishly. "don't worry about it," you chuckled in response, "i was just on my way out anyway. wanna go out to get breakfast or something?" yeonjun nodded, already beginning to brush his teeth. you smiled at him before walking out of the bathroom to give him privacy.

while you were waiting on him, you decided to plop onto your bed and check your phone.

the calls and texts from jake were reaching the hundreds at this point. from what you could see, he'd been texting you almost all night.

you felt your stomach tie itself into a knot. you slid your phone to the other side of the bed and lied down, pretending to sleep so that yeonjun would leave you be once he got out of the bathroom.

you felt like sobbing your eyes out.

you hadn't gotten texts like these since you left home all those years ago.

shutting your eyes tightly, you tried to think about something else, anything else, but you simply couldn't.

the bathroom door creaked open, yeonjun walking out and spotting you on your bed. he figured that you went back to sleep and decided to chill on the couch until you "woke up."

suddenly, you heard a weird noise that startled you a bit, but you decided to ignore it until you heard the door open.

your soul fully sunk through your body. you forgot that you gave jake a spare key.

"and what do you think you're doing here?" you heard jake's deep aussie accent question yeonjun as you gulped. "i should be the one asking you that question," yeonjun argued back, "y/n? are you awake? we've got some company."

you had to bite the bullet, you had to. you crept out of your room, seeing jake and yeonjun staring at each other with fury in their eyes.

"jake, what are you doing here..." you sighed out as you looked down. jake ran toward you, relieved that you were safe. he reached over to pull you into an embrace which you rejected. jake swore the world stopped spinning when you moved yourself away from it; you'd never done something that...cold.

"uh, s-should i leave?" yeonjun asked awkwardly though still worried. "i advise you do," jake replied to him immediately. "don't talk to my friends like that..." you glared at him, causing him to stiffen.

"okay, i'll go," yeonjun sighed as he walked over to grab his backpack off the floor, "but if i hear that you put your hands on her, you're done for; i'll fuck you up, remember that." before he walked out the door, made sure to mouth 'be safe' to you.

"what the fuck, jake?!" you yelled out once the door was shut, "you didn't have to be aggressive with him! h-he was just helping me with something." it wasn't a complete lie.

"if anything, i should be asking you 'what the fuck!' you literally haven't contacted me since you abruptly left my house yesterday evening no matter how many times i messaged and called you! you had me worried sick! what the hell is going on?! was he here all night? is that why you didn't talk to me? did i interrupt your little fling?" jake rebuttaled.

"you're one to talk about having a little fling," you said under your breath before going off, "you're the one having girls over at your house one after another! you probably dyed your hair for her too... you were probably shirtless and fresh out of the shower because you had something going on before i got there, huh? you're lucky she left before i got there, right? she would've been so upset to see another girl over, wouldn't she? i saw that lipstick stained cup, jake, and i'm absolutely over it. i'm not just gonna sit here and act like i'm fine with this because i'm not."

jake sighed in frustration as he put his forehead on one of his hands. "look, it's seriously not what you think-"

"don't waste your breath. get out, get out and go back to her. what you do is none of my business; i don't give a fuck anymore."

"y/n, fucking listen to me, okay?!"

you flinched at the way he raised his voice. for the second time today, you were brought back to when you were still living with your shitty family. the yelling was getting to be too much, and you were trying your hardest to conceal the tears that threatened to pour from your eyes.

jake noticed how your body seemed to stiffen at how he was talking to you, and he felt horrible about it, but it was the only way you'd listen; he knew you well.

"that girl who was at my house prior to you coming over was the same girl who'd been harassing you at work. she came over unannounced to whine and question why i took you with me to japan instead of her, and i explained everything to her. i kindly asked her to butt out and which only made her angrier. she's trying to get between us, and i don't know what else to do but wait things out and hope she eventually leaves us alone and-"

"if i'm you're "everything," then why are you having such a hard time being assertive toward her? i trusted you, jake... i thought you actually cared, but it seems like you don't anymore."

so much for wanting to trust him, right?

jake's eyes widened in shock at the sudden realization that you heard him say that you're his everything when you guys were back in japan.

"w-wait, you heard that?" jake asked.

"wow, is that really what you're worried about right now? the fact that i heard you lie?"

"i wasn't lying! y/n, please stop being like this. i was serious then, and i'm still serious now. please don't cry."

you honestly didn't even realize you began crying until he pointed it out. frantically, you wiped your tears in embarrassment.

"h-how do y-you expect me t-to believe y-you?" you hiccuped through your tears, "j-just admit t-that y-you don't c-care about m-me." you fully sobbed your eyes out in front of him, your emotions making your body physically weak.

"y/n," jake's voice broke as tears rolled down his cheeks, "i-i just- i really care about you. fuck it, y/n, i can't take it anymore-

i love you..."

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a/n: dramaaaaaaa hehe, i hope you enjoyed this one 🩷 it's very plot heavy, but i hope you were able to read it all the way through without falling asleep 😭

taglist: @axartia @jjhmk @jayroseyy @ayohahaha @asaheyow @bunhoons @red-xherry @duolingofanaccount @lix-freckle3 @leeis @green-orangeade @imbaeksbae @sunghoonmybeloved @tum73er @sjakewrld @jeondolly @lalalalawon @jckeplanet @meinapricity @bubbleseo @cherryunie @bently-baby @fluffypiesstuff @teti-menchon0604 @rjsmochii @omgjwon @sunshine-skz @wy1999t @oceanyocean @nyfwyeonjun @mxshimoo @multifandombtvh @donghyckl @iloveoceaneyesss @jakeswhore @jinsfavoritedoll @brownsugarbaybee @heehee01 @mesopret @heesitation @heeverseblog @yoursjaeyun @mklhyvn @jungwon-xo @crazydelulu @kyurizeu @ineedsomezzz @graythecoffeebean

p.s. i removed lots of accs from the taglist that i have never been able to tag, so pls lmk if you don't see yourself here but you originally asked to be on the taglist! tysm!

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wardenparker · 2 months

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 5

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: 12.2k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story* Flirting, probably incorrect White House descriptions, this is almost definitely not how receiving lines actually work, celebrity chef cameo, the tension is building. Summary: Marcus pulls out all the stops at the State dinner, and June accidentally spills the beans. Notes: I unapologetically love this chapter. The State dinner is straight out of An American President and we even have a West Wing character sighting as well!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

If Sydney hadn't gone and called in that favor with one of the stylists she knows, you sincerely doubt that you would have been ready for the dinner in any way, shape, or form. The gown, the jewelry, the shoes — all of it is lovely and sumptuous in a way you think you'll never get used to, but you will be sending this particular stylist an enormous thank you gift from the local chocolatier for all the wonderful work she did on you. Despite the help, though, you're feeling remarkably nervous as you pace around your apartment waiting for enough time to pass that you can actually leave to pick up Marcus.

It almost feels wrong being picked up by you for the State dinner. He understands that it’s not a date, just a friend doing another friend a favor, but he was raised as a gentleman. He was taught to show up to the door of a lady’s house, escort them and show them a good time and then deposit them back onto their doorstep safely.

It's a sleek, black car that shows up in front of his apartment building. Nondescript in that way that reads definitely government issued but also not important enough to follow, and of course that is deliberate. It isn't your car. No, he's seen your little blue sedan several times already. He wouldn't even know it was you if he hadn't gotten your text and spied Agent Bailey in the passenger seat. When his buzzer goes off a second later, it's distinctly your voice on the other end.

“I’ll be down in two seconds.” Marcus promises, grabbing the small brooch he had seen when he was at an antique store running down a lead on a case. While it might not be protocol to give you a brooch, he felt like it was more appropriate than flowers for the occasion.

"You might want to let me up!" You counter, quickly before he walks away from the speaker. "I have something for you."

“Oh, uh, sure.” Marcus flushes even though you can’t see him and hits the buzzer to unlock the security door.

In what feels like just a few seconds, you rocket upstairs in your full gown and best peacoat. It wards off the February chill nicely and has pockets deep enough for your best gloves without crushing them. The little white cardboard box clutched in your hand was retrieved this morning, and you hope he appreciates the small, albeit grateful gesture.

Marcus checks his reflection in the mirror next to the door and opens it quickly. He isn’t sure if you know what apartment he is in and he doesn’t want to leave you guessing.

"Hey." He looks devastating the second he opens his front door, dapper and clean cut in his tuxedo with what looks like a fresh haircut to boot. There is a little less guilt when your stomach flips at the sight of him and you feel a flutter in your chest, but you tell yourself that it's just nerves for the night to come. "Please accept my heartfelt thanks for tonight, in the form of the best muffin you will ever eat," you offer, holding out the bakery box and hoping he hasn't forgotten your little bet.

He tilts his head in confusion for a moment before a slow smile breaks across his face. “We’ll have to see about that.” He vows as he takes the box as gently as it if were a priceless work of art. “You can’t eat mine, but I also picked up a gift for you.” He explains as he sets the box down and picks up the antique velvet box. “I was in this little antique store on Tuesday, and as soon as I saw this, I knew it was made for you.”

"You really didn't have to." Even standing there in the entryway of his little DuPont Circle apartment, the heat in your cheeks spreads all the way down your neck and shoulders instantly. Carefully cracking open the velvet box reveals a stunning circular brooch with the Presidential seal set in gold in the center, surrounded by small but stunning stones that shine either clear or light blue when you turn them to hit the light from different angles. "Marcus, it's stunning."

“I thought it was perfect for tonight.” He explains, overjoyed that you like it. He had talked himself out of giving it to you three different times but then thought that it would be rude not to give you something as thanks for allowing him to take part in such a historic occasion.

"I wish I could wear it tonight." Apologetically, you pluck at your burgundy-colored skirt where it sticks out under the bottom of your coat. The soft blue and deep purple-red would clash entirely. "I'll have to make sure I pick the next dress specifically to match it."

“No, I didn’t expect you to wear it.” Marcus hastily corrects. “I just thought it was appropriate for the occasion.”

"It's wonderful." Though it doesn't keep you from wishing you could, and you slip the jewelry case into your jacket pocket for safe keeping. "Thank you. For the perfect gift and for being my lifesaver tonight."

“I don’t think escorting you to the State dinner is anything like lifesaving.” Marcus jokes. “But I’m here for you.”

"Are you ready to go?" You won't debate with him all the ways that he has very definitely saved your skin from an enormous amount of worry and explanation. Just as long as he knows that you're grateful, that is all that matters.

“Absolutely.” The key fob in his pocket is simply to get into the door and he has left his gun locked in his safe, but his badge is in his breast pocket. He holds out his arm. “Shall we?”

"No time like the present." The offer of his arm is elegant and old fashioned, and the two of you step into the elevator together. Agent Bailey is there waiting, of course, and ushers you back into the car to make sure you get to the White House on time.

Marcus nods politely to the Secret Service agent. “Agent Bailey, nice to see you again.” He murmurs, aware that the woman is working and cannot spend too much time chatting with him.

"Special Agent Pike." She nods back, the acknowledgement appreciated as much as the professionalism. The car that the President sent came complete with a chauffeur so she at least does not have to split her focus between driving and protecting. "We're right on schedule," she tells you both, once everyone is back in the car — then promptly raises the privacy barrier in the sleek town car.

“Well.” Marcus chuckles at the gesture and looks over at you. “We’ve been dismissed.” He jokes and adjusts in the seat slightly so he can talk to you and not crease his jacket. “Should I be offended?”

"Not at all." Although you can see how someone else might think so. "I think she's nervous. The first State dinner is a big deal. We're all a little nervous."

“Everything will be great.” He assures you, resisting the urge to take your hand and squeeze it. “I understand it’s a large undertaking, but security will be on top of their game and everything will move like a perfectly trained team winning a World Series.”

The baseball metaphor makes you smile, and you carefully buckle yourself in just before the car pulls out into traffic. "I think the kinks in the system they're worried about are me and my siblings," you admit ruefully. "Just because we were good on the campaign trail and for the inauguration doesn't mean we will be now, so they're just waiting to see if we all behave."

“I think that you and your siblings want nothing more than to make your mother proud and that is a reflection of her through you.” He observes, having listened to your stories about your brother and sister.

"You have far too much faith in my brother." The small laugh from your lips as you sit back is pure amusement, but he's right. None of you would ever do anything to interrupt so an important night. "Maybe if there wasn't royalty coming tonight. Because Alex is an agent of chaos, but only the good-natured kind."

“What young man isn’t?” Marcus snorts.

"His partner." You chuckle slightly, knowing how calm and collected your brother's boyfriend is by comparison. "Alex isn't out publicly. But he's known his soulmate since they were kids, and David just goes everywhere with him as his inseparable best friend. He'll be at the dinner tonight, too."

“It’s good that he can be with him tonight.” Marcus nods, not even having to say that your brother’s secret is safe with him. He wouldn’t dream of misusing that information.

"David's a sweetheart." He's good for Alex, and an active member of the family just like Sydney is. They were essentially adopted into the fold very early on. "He's going through law school with Alex at Georgetown. Family law, like adoption cases and child welfare. And I really think he's going to be a great lawyer." It's easy with Marcus, you reflect again, watching the streets of DC pass by the window beyond his profile. These are things that you hadn't even told Sam until a month or more into the relationship as you had been very careful about guarding your family's secrets at any cost. With Marcus you just seem to...open up.

“That’s great.” Marcus agrees. “I have a lot of respect for the good lawyers that are trying to make a difference in the world.” Marcus has met a lot of lawyers over his career and he can tell a difference in the ones that are genuinely there for the law and people’s rights and ones that aren’t very scrupulous.

"Then you and David should get along swimmingly." Feeling the nerves in your belly as the car pulls through the busy city streets, you offer him a warm but thin smile. "Sorry if I'm talking a lot," you offer. "That's my way of being nervous."

“Nothing wrong with that.” He assures you. “You talk out all your anxiety and I will listen.” He bites his lip and again is wondering why he has such a strong urge to comfort you and hold you close while you babble.

"Watch out." There's a softness in the way you smile so reflexively that you just sink into it, wishing you could reach for his hand. "Or I just might invite you to more of these things if you're going to be such good company."

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Oh no.” He snorts. “I would hate to be invited to amazingly historical events as a bystander and not work.”

"We'll see how little work you think it is when my family has gotten used to you and you start getting tapped into family debates." You snort right along with him, knowing that if he does come around your family often enough — an idea that you somehow don't hate even one single bit — it will happen fairly quickly. Nobody adopts their kids' friends quite like your parents do, and nobody likes debating as much as your parents, either.

Marcus laughs. “Sounds like dinner time conversation in the Pike household.” He admits, grinning at the memories. “My mother always believed in ‘healthy’ arguments so we debated early on and often. Even if she agreed, she could take the opposite positions just so we could rationalize what the other view would be thinking.”

“Sounds just like my house growing up.” You snort, though, rolling your eyes. “Hell, it sounds like them now, forget then. I had to negotiate my own damn birthday party because debates and negotiation are how everything gets done in my family.”

“Birthday?” He raises his brows and smiles. “You have one coming up?” He asks, wondering how old you will be. He thinks late twenties but he could get wrong, not exactly remembering the whole spiel on the first family during the election cycle.

“Thirty.” When you nod your head it comes with a slight shrug. “Next month. My parents tend to…it’s Mom, mostly. They make a big deal out of birthdays. And personal achievements. And pretty much anything else they consider important in life. It’s part of their philosophy of uplifting their kids, but it can get…heavy.”

“I get feeling that celebrating is great, but sometimes you would just like to do your own thing?” He asks, tilting his head. “Perfect birthday?” He challenges.

He's completely right, but there is a sort of naked and vulnerable feeling to admitting that he understands you so well this quickly that makes your heart skip and your palms sweat — not necessarily both positive feelings. "Sleep late, pancakes for brunch, then a ball game in the afternoon and dinner with my partner. Anything else that happens is extra, but those are the pillars of the perfect birthday." It's a little bit of a pipe dream, all things considered, but you smile nonetheless. "Oh! And cake. Birthdays have to have cake. Even if it's just a cupcake, it's got to be there."

“That sounds perfect.” Marcus groans, nodding. “Well—I have….” He pauses, wondering if he would overstepping boundaries. “I have season tickets for the Nationals, even if they aren’t my team.” He flashes you a grin. “You’d be surprised how many favors I can pull with a pair of tickets, field level.”

“Honestly? I don’t think I would be. A day at the park is kind of the perfect relaxer. To me, at least. Everything lifts away and you can just breathe.” Laughing, despite yourself, that lift is in your chest right now. Wondering if he’s really offering what you hope he’s offering. “I probably sound silly. But I just…I love going to baseball games. It almost doesn’t even matter who’s playing. It’s the experience of going that I love.”

“Eating ballpark dogs, drinking overpriced beer.” Marcus nods. “Have to get a bag of peanuts, it’s a crime not to.”

“I’m a Cracker Jack girl. Always have been.” It’s nostalgic and silly, and being able to just chat without tension has pulled the anxiety away from your bones. “The people around you are in a good mood, the game is fun, and hopefully you get to go with someone you enjoy. It’s the perfect afternoon, or evening, or whenever.”

“Best way to spend a Saturday night in my opinion.” He flashes you a grin. “Quick, tell the driver to drop us off at the Navy Yard.” He jokes. “We’ll go to the game in formal wear.”

“If I hadn’t promised my mother that I would behave, I might take you up in that.” It draws a groan from you, playful and light, and when you glance out the window to find yourselves pulling up to the White House already, you laugh again. “That was a fast drive.”

This time Marcus does reach over and take your hand in reassurance. “You will be wonderful. I’ve seen you around the inn, you’ve got this.” He squeezes gently and lets go. “You have a natural ability to put people at ease.”

“You’re…incredibly sweet.” This time the pang of guilt in your heart isn’t about how handsome his smile is, it’s how much you want to just hold onto his hand and not let go. It’s about how good touching Marcus felt, even for the briefest second. It’s…about the fact that you haven’t technically broken up with Sam yet because he’s been so sick.

“Thanks.” The smile he gives you covers the resounding gong of disappointment in his heart. Reminding him once again that the seemingly perfect woman for him isn’t available. You are dating an up-and-coming congressman and he’s gone out with Vanessa two more times. Both of you agree that it’s a little awkward how close the playing ‘seven degrees’ goes, but that it shouldn’t hamper the two of them from enjoying the other’s company. “That’s me. Sweet.” He tells you with a grin right as the car comes to a stop.

“Sweet is underrated and underappreciated,” you tell him honestly, waiting for the door to be opened and a hand to appear that will help you out in this enormous dress. “More men should be sweet.”

“I guess that’s true.” He snorts, reaching out to help with the back of the dress so you don’t have any mishaps.

The flashbulbs seem unnecessary, but with the help of the man helping ladies from their cars and Marcus with your dress, you pass through the line of new arrivals in no time. The agent at security checks your name off the list and inspects Marcus’s ID closely even after you hand over your invitation that formally lists both your names, but that’s protocol. Next step is the metal detectors and soon enough you’re being escorted to the receiving line. “Ready?” You ask Marcus quietly, knowing this might be the first President he’s ever met and recognizing that for the important occasion that it is to him.

“I am.” Marcus has met many esteemed members of congress and governors, but a president is a new on for the books. “Are you?” He asks, looking over at you earnestly. “Let me know if you need a break and I’ll need to use the bathroom or something.”

“The receiving line is going to be the most daunting part, I think.” There was some back and forth about whether or not your escorts — you being the kids — would stand with you in line but in the end your father made the case that Alex should be able to have David with him so it was all in. “But I’m okay. This is just going to be a lot of smiling politely as you stand between me and my brother. Probably a lot of telling people your job title. Then we’ll get to eat and drink and that will be worth it.”

“Hopefully no one asks if I can fix a parking ticket for them.” He snorts. “It’s kind of concerning how many people think the FBI can influence traffic tickets.”

“If anybody asks that,” you lend him a smile and slip your hand into his arm again. “You just refer them to me. I can’t do anything about it either, but they’ll either feel special or laugh.”

Marcus laughs as you guide him towards the small room where he assumes the family is assembled before the beginning of the dinner.

"There she is!" It's your father who spots you first, pulling you forward and into a tight hug as an attendant nearby takes your coat and Marcus's as well.

"Hi Dad." It's not as if you didn't see them just last night, but really and truly — everyone is nervous. "Everybody, this is Marcus." The ‘be nice’ is implied, but only because you said it explicitly last night. "Marcus, this is...everybody. My Father, my little sister June, my brother Alex, David and his brother Noah, and...of course...my Mother."

“Nice to meet you all.” Marcus doesn’t fawn over your mother, giving them all a warm smile and reaching out with a handshake for them all. “Junie, right?” He asks the younger girl, smiling when she hums and nods. He greets Alex and David by name as well, making your brother shoot you a questioning look before he moves on to your mother and father. “Your daughter has nothing but wonderful things to say about all of you.” He assures your father and then your mother. “Her pride in her family is obvious every time she speaks.”

“Oh Birdie, you didn’t say he was handsome,” you mother teases, knowing you did not say anything about the young man’s appearance one way or the other. He is your type, though, and she wonders in the way a mother does, if there is anything you haven’t told her. “Special Agent Pike, we are very glad to have you here tonight. My daughter has spoken nothing but wonderful things about you as well.”

“Happy to be here.” He admits, wincing slightly. “Although I hate that the congressman is sick.” He mentions Sam so the family knows that he is aware of your relationship status. “When Birdie called, I was happy to do her the favor.” He wonders at the nickname but doesn’t ask, knowing he didn’t hear it during game night, so it must be a family thing.

“Anybody else ready to embarrass me right off the bat?” The nickname is…less than ideal, given that you still haven’t talked to Marcus about your — potentially shared — tattoo, and you try not to flinch. “Dad? Alex? You guys up next?”

“Relax, Slugger.” Your Father flashes a grin even as he steps forward to shake Marcus’s hand. “We have the whole night to mortify you in front of your friend. No need to rush.”

Marcus laughs and feels at ease in the presence of your family. There’s a very happy sense of unity that is rare. “I promise I won’t hold the embarrassing stories against you.” He promises you with a wink.

“Very gracious of you,” you huff, but it’s all toothless. They’re your family, and even though they’re merciless sometimes, you love them. It keeps you all honest.

“I know.” He likes the fact they all chuckle and move back to your side. “Are there any protocols I need to be aware of?” He asks seriously, shifting the conversation back to the dinner. “I do not want to accidentally cause an international incident.”

“The king and queen are your Majesty the first time, and after that it’s sir or ma’am,” your Father explains, silently approving of the question with a glance and smile in your direction while he talks to Marcus. “Other than that, mind your manners and find any of us if you need a rescue. Birdie has your back and so do we.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Marcus nods and looks over at you. “Ready?”

“Mom?” Of course, she calls the shots. And the fact that she’s here in the room with you and not being escorted from the West Wing straight into the dinner is fairly impressive.

“Let’s line up.” She nods, gesturing for Junie and Noah to be first. “Kids in ascending order, and the king and queen will join us in the ballroom.”

Marcus offers you his arm again, wanting to formally escort you to your position, even if he is a supporting player tonight. Of course he will be written about, but he doesn’t focus on that, this is about the President having a wildly successful first State dinner.

"Madam President." The aide that appears looks official and tense, signaling that the night is ready to begin. There is...what would you call him? An announcer? A man in a tuxedo introducing each of you as you enter the room. When it gets to you and Marcus there is an odd sort of haze on the whole thing, and you swear you're trying not to think too hard about how much you like the sound of your names side by side like that. It feels just like when you were in middle school and doodled your name in your notebook next to your crush's.

Marcus straightens slightly and he reaches over and covers the top of your hand with his gently. “It’s kind of surreal.” He admits, whispering to you.

"The inauguration still feels like a fever dream," you murmur back, squeezing his fingers a little to show support. That you completely agree and understand. "Just smile and look like you're having fun and you'll be fine."

“Would it be wrong if I did enjoy myself?” He asks softly, wondering if you really hated events like this. “Maybe if you pretend to be undercover, it will help make it interesting?”

"It wouldn't be wrong." Once you fall into place beside Alex, you take a deep breath and smile — smiling at Marcus is remarkably easy and you decide not to think about it too hard. "These things...the spotlight, I mean?" You whisper to him, making sure not to move your lips too much so anyone watching can't tell what you're saying. "It just makes me nervous. That's all. I'd be glad if you actually enjoyed yourself."

“I only enjoy myself if my partner does.” Marcus leans in to murmur into your ear, explaining his view. “So it’s my duty to make sure you enjoy yourself.”

"I'll try not to make it too hard for you." The feeling of his breath fanning over your neck should be criminal, and it takes everything in you not to shiver and to lift your eyes to meet his instead of shying away. "But I get the feeling you don't shy away from a challenge."

“Never.” He promises. “Not even if it takes all night.”

He can't have meant it as an innuendo, but for the first time all night you're grateful for the voluminous skirts of your dress. No one has any idea that you just squeezed your thighs together wishing it was. "I'll remember that," you hum, turning to pay polite attention when the President is announced entering the ballroom.

Marcus realizes that it could have been taken another way and straightens as quickly as possible. His cheeks burning and he hopes that he didn’t offend you, even though you don’t seem like the type to easily be offended.

"I hope you can dance, G-man." Alex murmurs from Marcus's other side, quiet enough that you can't hear him and sending your escort a knowing smirk. "The girl has princess fantasies a mile wide." He's thrilled to not see Sam but won't say so until he knows the self-centered Congressman is out of the picture entirely. Instead, he'll play his hand quietly from the sidelines.

Marcus hums and glances over at you as you straighten your spine even more as the doors open. “She certainly looks like one.”

"Attaboy." Your brother laughs softly, giving Marcus an approving nod before he, too, straightens out of respect for his mother.

He can’t respond, but he wonders why your brother would say something like that. Only pondering on it for a moment before there are one thousand flashing lightbulbs making halos appear in his vision.

With the receiving line in place, the guests of honor are introduced next, and they make their way down the line with polite interest. So far, they have only met the President and First Gentleman. When they reach you and Marcus, you curtsy and thank god for all those times you watched The Princess Diaries as a kid. You're at least not blanking out on how to be polite to monarchs.

Once the line starts, it seems like it will never end. Marcus shakes hands and recognizes faces, all of it becoming a surreal blur after a bit. Trying to take the time to check in with you, his hand finds your back and he presses gently, offering comfort when he notices that you shift slightly.

If he had any idea his hand was right over your tattoo, he might have felt differently about the gesture. You can’t know for sure, of course. All you do know is that every time he touches you, you want to wilt into his arms like some ancient damsel and there’s no way to logic yourself out of it. There’s no explanation or reasoning beyond wanting him. But — you remind yourself each time you glance up to meet his eyes and silently tell him I’m okay because you’re here supporting me — he’s dating Vanessa. He’s with someone else and this is just a favor for a friend.

Marcus feels guilty, so fucking guilty because he’s absolutely in-tuned to you. He tries to be observant and thoughtful, but unlike with his ex, or even Teresa and Vanessa, it’s so easy with you. It’s like he can sense your emotions and adjust to them. Hating that he wants to see you look at him like he is wonderful every day and not sure why he feels like you should.

By the time the line ends you aren’t just mentally exhausted, you’re hungry to boot. “I have no idea how many people we just met,” you admit in a whisper, when you take his arm again to be escorted to your seats. Your father had smartly separated each of his children to a different table tonight to cut down on potential shenanigans, so you and Marcus have been placed with a few members of your mother’s staff and a few esteemed guests. There are no judges or members of Congress here, so conversation should stay light and entertaining.

“Three hundred and twenty-six.” Marcus supplies as he walks with you to the table. “And I’m absolutely in need of a roll and a drink.”

“You kept count?” It’s impressive and just a dash nerdy, making you reach for the nearest passing waiter to snag two glasses of champagne in appreciation. “Pretty cool that Antonio Banderas and Javier Bardem came, though. I’m bummed Pedro Almodóvar turned down the invitation.”

“I’ve seen some of his works.” Marcus nods. “He’s a good visionary.” He had been impressed with the foreign dignitaries and celebrities alike, finding it to be slightly overwhelming. “It will be interesting to see who is sat with us.”

“He’s remarkable.” The last few things you’ve seen from the Spanish filmmaker were truly moving, and you had happily dragged Sydney and Juan along to the theater with you. “Apparently he’s working on something new. So he couldn’t be here tonight.”

“I think that’s a good reason to not be available to attend.” He murmurs, smiling slightly as you tip back the champagne. His own is still untouched. “Here.” He offers to exchange glasses.

“You said you wanted a drink?” That had been the entire reason for grabbing the glasses early, and you tilt your head at him. “Don’t worry, there’s a five-course dinner to soak it up.”

“Your glass is empty, though.” He insists. “I can wait for the waiter to come around. You’re still thirsty.” He doesn’t mention that you still seem nervous as well.

“Be careful,” you warn, as playfully as you possibly can while your stomach knots at the thought. “If you’re too good at this I’ll want to bring you to every fancy dinner and party.”

He chuckles, knowing that wouldn’t happen because of your relationship with Sam. The congressman will be the one to escort you next time. He exchanges glasses with you with a smile. “There.”

“Come on.” After another grateful sip, you slip your hand back into his arm and feel that gentle lift of tension again, the same way you’ve felt each time he’s touched you tonight. It goes hand in hand with the fire in your belly. “I see my mother’s deputy chief of staff at our table, but he’ll be up and down a dozen times during dinner.”

He wonders if the seating arrangement was made when he wasn’t attending and Sam was. It would make sense and it’s another reminder that he doesn’t actually belong here, with you. “Then you will have time to relax.” He reasons.

“I’ll be okay.” You can promise him that, despite his attention and seeming insistence to the contrary. It’s like he can sense your nerves, but you don’t want him to miss out on any fun because he’s babysitting you all night.

He doesn’t argue with you, aware that you have more experience in these situations than he does, so he just nods. “Are we sitting down now, or can we escape to the bathroom?”

“I think we have a few minutes, if you need it.” There will be speeches and the like before the first course is served, and there is wiggle room to be found. “Do you need me to show you?”

“Would you mind?” He knows you could probably use a breather, even if you don’t want to mention it. There are a lot of people who fawned over you and your siblings simply because of your proximity to the most powerful person in the country and he imagines it’s exhausting.

“It’s this way.” On the edge of the ballroom in an alcove of sorts, with a Secret Service agent whose name is temporarily escaping you standing by in a tuxedo. “I’ll wait for you. This place is a maze if you’re not ready for it. I got lost in the residence for an entire hour on my first day there.”

“That had to be fun.” Marcus snorts, shuffling slightly. “I don’t really have to go.” He admits. “I just thought you might like a moment.”

“You are…remarkably good at taking care of me.” A fact which is slightly disarming, in as much as it is infinitely comforting. The trouble is that it makes you lean into him in a way that seems far too intimate for the moment. But you’ve chosen not to care if you so much as even think about it for a second. “It is…deeply appreciated.”

“I’m glad you don’t find it annoying.” He admits with a small laugh. “My ex sometimes told me it felt like I was undermining her autonomy.” He quotes.

“She objected to being cared for?” That makes you frown instantly, wishing you could reach back in his past and soothe the hurt left by an ungrateful partner. “I can’t imagine that. At all. Hell, half the time if I didn’t have Syd right there in the kitchen to feed me, I would probably forget to eat. Workaholic’s curse, I guess?”

“Oh absolutely.” He nods. “Sometimes the best feeling in the world is just someone calling up and asking if they should bring home dinner, right?” He asks. “That’s all I was trying to do. My dad would be exhausted after work and he’d still call Mom to see if she felt like cooking or if she wanted him to grill something or pick something up.”

“It’s caretaking.” Something you see so deeply in your best friend’s relationship with her soulmate and you have silently started to wish for yourself. Something that you yearn for the way you see it around you. It’s what your parents always strived for, although they sometimes fell short. Their strengths are elsewhere. “I’m…not used to it,” you admit after a pause. “And I appreciate it. Wholeheartedly.”

“Good.” He flashes you a relieved smile. “Although, if you get annoyed or I overstep, you just tell me, okay? I know it’s not my place, that’s Sam’s, but for tonight, you’re in my care.”

“It’s—” You have to swallow the objection, knowing that it wouldn’t be right to tell Marcus before you even tell Sam what your plans are. And while the impulse to confide in him is deep, you have to wonder if it’s because you might have that soulmate connection, or just because you have a crush. “Just for tonight,” you offer instead, choosing to embrace that with open arms.

He nods and tries not to read anything into it. Hating how he hopes that is longing in your eyes. It’s not fair and he smiles. “Do you need to powder your nose?” He asks teasingly.

“I might as well.” Glancing around, there are eyes everywhere and you know they’re watching. Plus, it would probably do you well to step away from Marcus for a second and calm the fuck down. “Someone is probably watching and it will get remarked on in some gossip column if neither of us does.”

“I can step inside the bathroom then, after you go into the women’s room.” Marcus offers, not wanting to put your reputation on the line.

"If nothing else we should probably wash our hands after that receiving line," you offer, trying to diffuse any tension that surely lives only in your head. "I'll be right back."

“Good call.” He flashes you a smile and waits for you to disappear into the bathroom before stepping into the men’s room. “Get it together, Pike.” He huffs to himself as he stares into the mirror. He had shaved right before you arrived and had gotten a haircut this morning to make sure he looked his best. “You gotta get over this little thing.”

A mere ten feet away, you're staring yourself in the mirror giving yourself almost an identical short, stern lecture and shaking your head. This thing is going to get out of hand. And maybe you can't rein it in completely, but you have to at least behave your damn self until you can properly break up with Sam. Marcus washes his hands and dries them, straightening his bow tie before he steps out of the bathroom to wait for you.

"Let's go back to the table." You appear only a minute later, having lectured yourself silently in the mirror long enough and washed your hands thoroughly for good measure. "My father played with the seating chart a little so there would be some people at the table for you to talk about art with."

“That will be fun.” He doesn’t mean that sarcastically, aware that he learns odd facts and titbits about art.

"Hopefully you mean that." Lending him a smile, you nod your head and put out your hand to him. It's an offering if he wants to take it, and if he doesn't that's okay too. It will probably help you chill the fuck out to have a small gesture rejected, if you're honest with yourself.

He doesn’t think you want to hold his hand, so Marcus takes it, squeezing it gently and then wrapping it over his extended arm. “I get to be formal tonight.” He jokes, sending you a small wink.

In absolutely no way is that a rejection, and your cheeks burn as you absorb that small gesture and walk with him back to the table. You manage to sit just as the speeches are beginning, and survey the table for anyone you recognize while everyone is paying rapt attention to the stage.

Josh, your mother's Deputy Chief of Staff, is seated to your left. Guests you recognize as being staff members at the Spanish embassy are seated on his other side. Beside them are the counselors from the State department who are apparently staples on the White House guest list and have been for the last eight years. You have no idea who they are beyond that, and the random detail that your father mentioned they are foodies. Which makes sense, as they are seated next to famous chef José Andrés and his wife. Considering they are seated next to Marcus, you must deduce that these are the art lovers your father was so glad to introduce to your new escort.

Marcus makes note of the exits, the Secret Service positioned strategically and for a brief moment wonders what it would be like to protect someone like this. He doesn’t know if he has the fortitude for it, becoming emotionally attached to the people he works with. It’s what made him an effective leader but also would make him a poor protector as a career. He glances back at the podium and listens carefully.

The speeches are...a bit endless. After what must be thirty full minutes of gratitude and platitude, well written jokes that are mostly poorly delivered, and even a few self-deprecating cracks, all the speakers seem finally to be done and the waiters pour out of the woodwork with the first course. Every course is influenced by your Spanish visitors and the menu is printed out neatly on a card at every seat, which you know very well you will be keeping in a stack in a shoebox in your apartment as the best keepsake from every single White House event.

“It looks delicious.”

Marcus smiles at the woman who speaks up as the plate is sat in front of her. “I can only imagine the chaos that is occurring in the kitchen.” Marcus replies. “They have been working hard and it shows.”

"Every meal I have ever had from that kitchen has been exemplary," you promise them, knowing that you are currently the table expert on the quality of the White House kitchen. "The whole menu sounds very promising." Gazpacho with garlic shrimp for the first course, and the traditional Spanish tomato soup is garnished with lovely bits of the fresh vegetables that make up the refreshingly cold puree.

“And that is saying something, considering her best friend and business partner is a culinary artist.” Marcus brags. “She eats fantastically every day.”

"Oh?" That catches the attention of the chef sitting two seats over from Marcus. He and his wife both perk up measurably to find those who love food nearby. "Please say more," he chuckles.

"I...run an inn." Apparently you're going to spend at least part of tonight chatting with a world-renowned chef that Sydney is going to be so mad she missed this. "And my best friend is the executive chef of the restaurant on property." The chance to brag on her behalf will absolutely not escape you. "She was just nominated for a James Beard Award, actually. She's absolutely remarkable."

“I can attest to that.” Marcus seconds as he picks up his spoon. “Her food is absolutely incredible. I’ve not had such good food since I was actually in Italy. And it might be better.” He boasts. This is his friend’s wife and better yet, he’s not stretching the truth. Her food is that good.

“Better than in Italy?” Chef Andrés’ eyebrow raises in discerning interest. “We may have to visit. If it is possible?”

“Possible?” You almost choke on air at the request, but manage to hold your composure long enough to nod in a reasonably human manner. “We will make sure that it is possible. It would be an honor.”

“You won’t regret it.” Marcus promises. “You should honestly book a night at the inn. Their brunch is probably my favorite but their dinners are amazing as well.”

“You should hire your boyfriend to do your PR,” Andrés teases, the smile on his lips stretching wider when his wife rolls her eyes in amusement. “If it is as good as you say, I must try it, yes? Bring my wife?”

Marcus chuckles, hating how he almost perks up at being called your boyfriend. “I’m afraid that I’m just a friend.” He explains with a smile. “But I know good food and a charming, romantic atmosphere when I see one.” He tells him. “You take your wife for a weekend and she will be singing your praises.”

The two guests beside him seem to tut at Marcus’s correction but say nothing else on the topic, instead beginning to eat along with the rest of the table after you delicately pass them a business card from your clutch.

“So what is it that you do?” The chef’s wife asks, glancing at Marcus.

“Oh.” He’s a little thrown off by the question but he smiles. “I’m the head of the Art Crimes department for the FBI.” He explains. “We investigate thefts, forgery rings and work with Interpol.”

“How fascinating!” Her eyes light up with the declaration. It obviously isn’t a polite interest, which is nice for utter strangers seated next to each other at dinner. “To investigate these forgeries you must be very well versed in all sorts of art.”

“I have learned my fair share and the some about art.” Marcus admits with a chuckle. “Honestly, sculpture is my favorite. Although there are not a lot of forgeries in that area.”

“I imagine it would be much harder to accomplish,” she agrees, seeming to consider the thought before going on. “Do you create art as well? Or stick to protecting it?”

“I am a phenomenally bad artist.” Marcus snorts and laughs at himself. “Stick figure bad. So I try to just protect the art created by others.”

“I bet you’re better than you think.” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, but you just can’t imagine that Marcus Pike is bad at…well…anything. He seems to radiate positivity and confidence.

Marcus sends you a warm, amused look, positively happy that you would try to protest that. “I’m afraid that my fingers are only good for playing instruments.”

Tutting and rolling your eyes playfully, you nearly huff at him but end up grinning. “You say that as if it’s deficient in some way. Playing an instrument is extraordinary.”

“Three.” He admits with a grin.

“Three?” Your jaw nearly drops out of indignation, as though he were keeping something from you. Which is patently ridiculous. “I only knew about one!”

He bites his lip playfully. “Guitar, bass and….” He snickers quietly. “Violin.”

“No.” When you nearly erupt into giggles you have to stifle it behind your napkin. “That’s discipline! Or did you decide it wasn’t cool enough and that’s why you picked up guitar and bass?”

“Actually….” He shrugs. “There was a girl.” He can look back and laugh now. “She didn’t think playing guitar or bass was ‘real music’ so I made a bet that if I could perform Bach’s Violin Concerto in E Major, she would go out on a date with me.”

The rest of the table has faded into the background, with a hall of focus encompassing you and Marcus entirely. You’re not sure when it happened but everyone else just became a smiling face and white noise compared to the man next to you. “Please tell me it worked. That would be a shame if it didn’t work.”

There’s a flash of something bittersweet, there and gone before most can even register it as Marcus nods. “We were married for three and a half years.” He looks around the table and grins, trying to make sure no one feels sorry for him. “Think that was a good play.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment floods your system immediately and your cheeks burn with it. “It…was your wife. Of course it was your wife. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—that was thoughtless of me.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Marcus is adamant about that, reaching over and patting your hand. “I admire your stance on non-soulmate relationships.” He admits. “Even if my ex wasn’t my soulmate, she’s a wonderful woman and I grew in our relationship together. More people could use that.”

“It’s just that I think everyone should be able to choose,” you admit, having been struggling with the topic as much as you have recently. “This idea of only having one perfect match chosen for you? It doesn’t mean it’s the only way to be happy. My parents are soulmates, my brother has a soulmate, our friends are soulmates — I’m happy for all of them. But not finding your one preordained needle in the haystack of the world shouldn’t mean you don’t get a shot at happiness.”

“No,” Marcus agrees. “Happiness shouldn’t be tied to one person or one thing.” He longs for his soulmate, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t open himself up for others.

“That’s all.” There is no show to put in here. No soapbox to stand on. It isn’t a campaign event or even an interview. It’s just talking — and talking to someone you suspect more and more might be the needle you were meant to search for. “I would love to meet my soulmate,” you admit after another moment. “But I want it to be my choice to love them, not the world’s.”

“If it weren’t for the tattoo, I would wonder if my soulmate existed.” Marcus admits. “The scars, I can’t even remember whose is whose, but…my soulmate doesn’t want to be found and I will respect that.”

“What would make you think they do want to be found?” The idea that whoever is tied to Marcus wouldn’t want to be found by him seems ridiculous now that you know him. But you know that’s personal bias.

“Never been on Mate Marks.” Marcus shrugs. “Not once. Just figured they aren’t interested.”

“Not everyone can be on Mate Marks.” You remind him gently, but deflect right away. “Maybe she’s a movie star.”

“Maybe.” It hurts him in a very raw way so he changes the subject. “Perhaps there’s supposed to be some kind of dramatic meet cute.” He shrugs, turning towards the Chef and his wife. “How did you two meet?”

“She was hanging out with her friends.” Andrés regards his wife with a warm smile. “At my restaurant. Many, many years ago. But I could not take my eyes from her once I saw her. I was—” He pauses for a moment, searching for the word, and then grins when he finds it. “A goner. For such beauty, how could I not be?”

“Love at first sight.” Marcus hums at the romanticism and whimsy of it. “You are a lucky man.” He admits. “There is something so beautiful about that.”

“There are many beautiful ways to fall in love.” The chef contends with a shrug, as if to say any love is good. And he does have a point. “Sometimes the one best suited to us is directly under our nose, sometimes they are a surprise. But always, they are worth finding.”

“Love is always worth it.” On that, Marcus can completely agree. “I’ll drink to that.” His champagne glass has been swapped for a new one and he holds it up. “To love, in all forms.” He offers. “The world is better for it.”

“Here here.” On your other side, Josh raises his glass and the rest of the table follows suit, all of you drinking a toast while your mind begins to work.

Marcus takes a sip, noticing that you look introspective and he wonders if you are thinking about Sam. Instead of prying, he sets his drink down and takes up his spoon again, listening to the conversation start around the table again and this time, it’s not focused on him.

The courses go by like clockwork. Every bite is delicious, every sip of accompanying wine is refreshing. Conversation becomes easy with the rest of the table and as all the guests relax the atmosphere becomes more and more party-like.

Watching your mother begin the dancing with a king is something entirely surreal. There’s something sort of spectacular about seeing this woman that you know as everything from determined to downright silly getting up there and whirling like she hasn’t a care in the world. She glows in that spotlight, soaking it up and radiating the same appreciation back out to the rest of the room — but she only gets brighter when the song changes and your father steps up to take her hand for the next dance.

Marcus watches the First Gentleman bow slightly, the grin on his face making him look years younger and there’s a moment where Marcus is envious. He wants a life like that, a life like his parents have. Love is love and he appreciates that, but he wants love. Vanessa isn’t in love with him, and he’s not in love with her. Not in a way that would have him picking out wedding venues with her. They have companionship and fun. He gets the feeling that she’s trying to get over someone and that’s okay, but he wants to have someone light up when they see him like the President just did for her husband of over thirty years.

As other couples start to join in, you see your siblings join the dance floor — probably to gossip, that's in keeping with a tradition they started when your mother was Governor of Pennsylvania — and your hand twitches on the table wishing you were brave enough to just reach for Marcus like you want to. To find out if he dances as well as you've dreamt that he does. Because that thought has permeated every single dream you've had this week.

It must be a tradition to have the entire first family on the floor and Marcus decides that you won’t break it. He stands and offers you his hand as he moves around the chair. “Shall we join them?”

A shaky breath passes your lips, but your hand settles in his before you can second guess yourself. You want to dance with him and you can dance with him. It isn't overstepping or cheating or anything of the sort. "I promise not to step on your toes," you murmur, not bothering to temper the brightness of your smile. Though that is partially because you really can't feel how much you're glowing in this moment. It's not something you've ever felt before — not like this, at least.

“I have a feeling you are a better dancer than me.” He guides you to the edge of the floor with quiet pride and bows.

"It's just practice." The smile of assurance on your face as the do the formal thing and curtsy never flickers. You take his hand and let him guide you to the floor, knowing that it isn't necessary here for most people to learn ballroom dance. No one is expecting a perfect tango out of the couples on this floor. As long as you and Marcus can make your way around the floor in a reasonable facsimile of a dance, all will be well. "Haven't you seen Sabrina? Just pretend you're David Larrabee."

Marcus smiles as he steps close and settles his hand on your waist. “Did I mention my father insisted that I learn to dance?” He asks as he starts to move to the song. “Dancing helps coordination.”

"How could I possibly be a better dancer than you now?" Have you had lessons? Sure. Of course you have. All three of the First Kids of Pennsylvania took them so as not to embarrass their parents at formal events. But all that knowledge seems to leave you in a flash with Marcus holding you close like this. You're pretty sure you even forget how to breathe for a second. "Is there anything you can't do? And don't say art, because I still don't believe you."

“It’s really bad.” He promises with a laugh. “I never graduated beyond first grade stick figures.”

"Well..." As the two of you begin to turn in time with the music, the breath returns to you only to be whisked away again with every turn. "Your dancing is..." With your cheeks burning again, you feel like you can barely look him in the eye. "It's top notch, I promise."

“Then the lessons paid off.” Marcus laughs. “Dad said they would. Didn’t believe it when I was seven, but now I see the light.”

“If I ever meet your Dad, remind me to thank him.” Whoever the couples around you are, whatever the band is playing, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Everything about this moment is perfect, and there really is no talking yourself out of it at this point — this crush you have on Marcus Pike is officially out of hand.

He smiles and nods, no comment needed as he sweeps you around the dance floor and he tightens his grip on you. “Hold on.” He warns, right before he dips you low.

A collective gasp from the room full of spectators is followed by titters of laughter and exclamations then punctuated by applause, but you are holding on. You’re holding on to Marcus with an iron grip on his shoulders, laughing in your own right but it’s disbelief and a sort of bubbling giddiness that you can’t quite describe. It’s all-consuming just like your focus on him, so much so that you don’t even notice the flashbulbs going off in the ballroom.

It’s been a long damn time since he could say that he has had this much fun dancing. You are a great partner, seeming to fit into his arms perfectly. Moving with him naturally and his matching grin when he pulls you upright is beaming.

“I—” What can you really say? If you weren’t in a room full of people and if you weren’t still technically in a relationship, that’s the kind of move that would have you reaching up to kiss him in a heartbeat. As it is, you barely manage to stop yourself from licking your lips a little at the thought. His eyes and his smile are brilliantly bright and you wish you could just let your pounding heart speak for itself. But all that comes out as he starts to whirl with you again is “Wow.”

“You like that?” He asks, even though his tone makes it clear he is aware of your astonishment and delight. “Figured you needed a moment where you can look back and pretend that you were the princess at the royal ball.” He jokes. “The glass slippers are in another room though.”

“You’re never getting out of this,” you tease, feeling the burning in your cheeks even as you get your footing back, and with your eyes still locked in Marcus. “Four more years of these things if you’re going to dance with me like that. Get ready, Pike.”

He could tell you that he would gladly dance with you, but he doesn’t. He just laughs and steps away so he can twirl you around.

All it does, besides give you that feeling again of being a princess floating on air, is seal how doomed you really are in your mind. When your twirl back into Marcus’s arms, you swear you actually sigh outright. It’s all just too dreamy and you’re forever in Sydney’s debt for making you ask him.

The song is quickly coming to an end, and Marcus is aware there are too many speculative eyes on the two of you, so he doesn't spin you or dip you again. He doesn't want to cause issues with Sam, just enjoying the dance with you and got a little carried away. His mother would accuse him of subconsciously showing off and that might be true, but he brings you to a stop when the music ends and hates that he hates when his hands slide away from you so he can clap politely. "Sorry." He hums as you both clap. "Got a little carried away."

“You never need to apologize for having fun.” You assure him, knowing that you certainly aren’t sorry for your part in it.

"I'm sure the press corps absolutely loved it." Marcus laughs. "At least your Agent Bailey didn't think I was attacking you. That would have been mortifying, being tackled to the floor for dipping you." It's a joke, not particularly a good one, but he needs to get over this feeling of rightness. To distract himself from the want of pulling you close and pressing his lips to your stained ones. Obviously he needs to not do that and corny jokes puts a little distance from him and that thought.

“Don’t let Bailey fool you. She’s a softie.” The other half of that thought is that she would never mistake a romantic gesture, but it’s just wishful thinking to one dance to be a romantic interlude.

The music has a thirty second delay to allow dancers to join or exit the floor and in that time, Alex comes up to the pair of you. "May I cut in?" He asks, standing beside Junie and David's brother that Marcus hadn't caught his name. "David doesn't want to dance, for obvious reasons."

“The reason is his two left feet,” you tell Marcus with a knowing grin. “I’ll be right back. Unless everyone mobs you for a dance after what they saw you can do.”

"I'll dance with him." Junie offers with a matching grin towards her sister. She hadn't missed the dreamy look in your eyes and wants to see if it was because of the dance or the man. "If you don't mind?"

Marcus shakes his head and looks towards her date for the evening. "May I?" It might me a little archaic, since Junie has full autonomy over who she dances with, but it was polite manners who ask the escort for their blessing and Marcus was nothing if not polite.

“Go for it,” Noah’s answering nod is easygoing, and he has to admit he’s curious too. There is speculation amongst them now and he wants to know what Junie has to say after dancing with him.

Marcus offers his hand to Junie, bowing just like he had with you before sweeping the younger girl into his arms. "Your escort is a friend?" He asks, curious since he looks so much like David.

“Pretty much family at this point,” Junie confirms, taking the elegant bow to mean that she should attempt a curtsy just before she gets pulled into the dance. She wobbles a little but makes it. “He’s Alex — our brother’s — best friend’s little brother.” Not being sure how much you may have told FBI Marcus Pike about Alex or the family, she carefully doesn’t say more. “So we’ve known each other a long time.”

"It's a shame that David has a case of the left feet." Marcus glances over at the table where the law student is passionately talking to a judge that had been seated with them. "Hopefully Noah is not the same?" He admires the protectiveness of the younger girl's tone and approves of it wholeheartedly. You protect family and that’s something special amongst siblings.

“Not at all. That’s why he’s here.” She laughs at that, realizing it’s silly, but doesn’t quite care. “We all had to have someone with us for this one, and I’m not much for the dating scene so Noah gave me a rescue. He’s basically my other brother.” The steps are easy enough to be led through, or else Marcus Pike is a very good lead, and June turns with him a few times before she starts thinking that smile on her big sister’s face was about the dance as much as the man. He’s good, but he’s not Fred Astaire, so it has to be a combination.

"Very nice of him." Of course there would be a million different selfish reasons why he would want to come, but it's also a very nice gesture. "Friends that are family are the best." He agrees.

“Firmly agree.” June nods with authority, holding on tight as Marcus turns her around in the dance. She can see why you liked this so much — those fairy tale fantasies you think are secret must have loved being twirled around a ballroom.

There is a moment where Marcus could dip June, but he doesn't. He knows that people are speculating and he keeps a respectable amount of distance between him and your younger sister. Knowing that it could be taken out of context if someone really wanted to stir up trouble. He does spin her though, making her laugh as he pulls her out of it.

“Oh, you’re going to get yourself invited to all of these,” she laughs. It’s a little archaic in her opinion, but a pretty face with good manners and talented dancing shoes is like an endangered species at these things. Especially one who passes the background checks. “Did Birdie tell you about her birthday yet?”

"She did." Marcus laughs. "Talked about having to negotiate." He wonders at the nickname again and glances over to where you and Alex are dancing and laughing together. "Where did the nickname Birdie come from?" He asks. "I've only heard family use it."

“She was a giant ornithology nerd when she was a kid,” June explains easily, not thinking any of the question. “Bird feeders everywhere in the backyard of the house in Philly. There’s a bunch at the inn, too. She even got a bird tattoo when she was old enough. Mom freaked out.”

Marcus doesn’t stiffen, which is a credit to his undercover training. But he’s instantly on alert. You have hummingbird feeders at the inn. “Oh?” He manages to keep his tone causally interested. “What type of bird?”

“It’s this hummingbird and flowers design that she got on her back.” June shrugs again, even in the dance. “Why would you get a tattoo on your back where you can’t see it? That never made any sense to me.”

“On her shoulder?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. “Shoulder tattoos are pretty popular. You can show them off or cover them up.”

June snorts, lowering her voice. “Who even gets a tramp stamp anymore? Her shoulder would have been way better.”

It’s like the world fucking stops when he hears June’s confirmation of what he had suspected. You are his soulmate. The undeniable attraction and need to be around you is suddenly explain. Though, you had to have known, and worse, you kept it a secret. Marcus feels his heart clench, although he smiles and chuckles at the horror on the younger girl’s face. “Easy to conceal.” He offers, making it seem like his whole world hasn’t shifted off its axis. He’s hurt, deeply, but he cannot make a scene - nor would he.

The song ends either in the nick of time or far too soon, and a Junie thanks Marcus for the dance before trotting off to disappear into the crowd and out of sight. This is a very easy room to disappear in, after all.

Marcus needs a drink, but he waits on the side of the dance floor as Alex brings you over. “Nice dance?” He asks.

“Nice enough.” Alex had talked your ear off about something David said at dinner and then asked a million questions about Marcus, so you’re feeling a little warm in the cheeks and a little knotted in your stomach. “You?”

“Absolutely.” He paints a smile on his face and offers his arm as he turns you from the dance floor. “Your sister is a charming young woman.” He compliments. “I need a drink, how about you?”

“Please.” What you need is courage, after talking to Alex, and a drink is that in liquid form. “And…I wanted to ask you something? If that’s okay.”

“Your sister has already warned me I will the attending these from now on.” Marcus jokes, although he’s not sure he would want to attend. To know that you were aware of the potential soulmate connection and not breathing a word of it hurts in a way he cannot describe. Especially after the conversations you’ve had about choices. You’ve taken his own choice away from him in a sense.

“Yeah…” A huff of a laugh comes out of you, and you take Marcus’s arm to walk away from the dance floor but it isn’t as relaxed as before. You have to wonder if more of this sounds that terrible to him. Or more of you? “Dad said that any friend we have who was a good dancer was going to end up on all the invitation lists by default.”

“Of course.” A subtle, slapping reminder of what he is to you goes a long way to not saying something. The bar is thankfully devoid of too many people and he quickly looks towards you. “What will you have?” He asks politely.

“A Manhattan with Statesman?” You glance over at the bartender and he nods and sets to work. Asking Mar is what you want to ask is so loaded and terrifying that you really are going to need that courage.

“And I’ll have a triple Statesman on the rocks.” Marcus adds, knowing that a double won’t be enough.

"Was Junie really that bad?" you tease. But if the answer is yes you'll be furious.

“No, she was wonderful.” Marcus assures you. “Nothing to worry about at all.”

“I wondered if I could ask you something?” You’re practically shaking in your heels, but you may never get the courage to ask again and short of straight out asking to see his tattoo, this is the next best thing for confirmation. “At dinner you said you have scars? Yours and your soulmate’s and you’ve sort of forgotten whose is whose?”

“Yeah?” There’s no way you can know how the casual question rips him apart but he shrugs slightly and tilts his head curiously at you. “They are old.”

“Like from when you were a kid?” The ache in your chest is undeniable, wanting so badly for him to confirm things for you. The scar from when your appendicitis operation is fairly unique. The surgeon must have desperately needed new glasses or worse.

“I know the scar right here is from my soulmate.” He points to his side and shrugs. “Assuming their appendix burst or something.”

The smallest breeze in the world could knock you over right now. A single breath would be enough, but neither you nor Marcus seems to be breathing at the moment. The only noise between you is the pounding of blood in your ears and the dull thud of two glasses hitting the bar beside you which knocks you out of your trance. “Appendicitis sucks,” you manage to murmur ineloquently, and rummage frantically for a tip in your clutch.

“I’ve never had it, so at least there’s not a double scar.” Marcus hums, watching you search through your bag. “I’ve got it.” He promises, reaching to his wallet and pulling out a bill.

“Thank you.” Even a few seconds to shut your eyes and take a drink isn’t enough to steady you, but you have to fake it. Right now you’re shaking like a leaf. “Soulmates are…they’re interesting…” you manage, trying your best not to just burst out with it in the spot. You have to break up with Sam first, you tell yourself over and over.

“Sometimes.” Marcus agrees, wondering why you are talking about this now. Is it to rub it in? To test him? He picks up his drink and takes a sip.

“I’m sorry.” Taking your drink away from the bar, concentrating on not spilling it will help you not shiver or shake as much, but you still shake your head. “I guess I’m…distracted. And that’s not fair to you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Marcus promises you softly, wondering why you are having such an extreme reaction right now. Like you are having an internal crisis. “I’m here for you.”

“You can’t possibly know how much that means to me.” And how much it makes you ache in turn. How much you wish he would be there for you as a partner. As a lover. But he might not even want you. Just because you’re soulmates — there it is, you’ve admitted it to yourself — doesn’t mean he will choose to be with you. He might be ecstatically happy with Vanessa.

He smiles and takes another sip of his drink, honestly unsure of what to say right now. Taking a drink seems like the safest option and he wishes he were brave enough to down the smooth whiskey in one belt and order another.

There really was a solid chance that you would be able to keep your head on straight but then you looked at him again. The way your resolve crumbles in the face of those big, brown puppy eyes is laughable. “I decided I’m breaking up with Sam,” you blurt out, instantly squeezing your eyes shut and berating yourself internally for it.

He’s nearly spitting his whiskey out when you say that, choking slightly and coughing. “I— I’m sorry.” He murmurs, patting himself on the chest. “I hope that it’s not because I came with you to the dinner?”

“What! No. No…I—” You can’t say it has nothing to do with him because that’s a lie. Meeting Marcus was the catalyst that led you to the decision. Meeting Marcus has been tumultuous and eye opening. “The decision has been coming for a little while, I think.”

“Okay.” He is relieved about that. “The last thing I wanted was to cause issues with you and the congressman.”

“And I don’t want to cause any between you and Vanessa.” As much as you may wish he wasn’t seeing her, it isn’t for you to decide. His life is his choice, entirely and completely.

It’s interesting that you would say that. Considering that he’s never said anything beyond inviting you to dinner. “You won’t.” He promises.

“Right.” The confidence he says it with makes you feel utterly small, and you force yourself to laugh just so you don’t say anything else stupid. “Of course not. That was a silly thing to say.”

“It’s not silly.” Marcus doesn’t like the way you seem to deflate slightly. “I just mean we are all adults.”

“Yes. We definitely are.” The way it stings your heart is very real, but this is not the time or the place to feel that feelings in its entirety. Instead, you remind yourself to smile and calmly sip your drink.

It feels like the night has gone sideways for multiple reasons and Marcus isn’t sure why. He finishes his drink and looks over at you. “Need another?”

“I’d rather dance again,” you admit. But it’s partially because you know you shouldn’t have too much to drink. That wouldn’t be a good look when so many eyes are on you.

“Then let’s dance.” He sets his empty glass down and offers his hand to you again.

______

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

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

My Masterlist!

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

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bouncybongfairy · 8 months

Text

Miscommunication

Izuku Midoriya x Fem Reader

Summary: As a new student at U.A. you are pretty overwhelmed with the workload and training hours. You're used to having a lot on your plate but this is an entirely new level you didn't prepare yourself to be at. After turning down Deku's offer to go out with a group of students to get food. You end up falling asleep while you are studying and wake up starving. While looking for something to eat in the kitchen, you encounter the green-haired boy who won't stop sending you mixed singles. You end up using your quirk to see what he thinks of you in his dreams.

Word-Count: 2k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Part 2 Is now up!

Being enrolled in U.A. wasn’t as manageable as you thought. Everyone warns you that it’s going to be a lot of work but you were always a really active student. Sports, clubs, honors classes, and yes the workload could get heavy from time to time but it became over your head. Now that you are a U.A. high student, you were barely managing the bare minimum. Living away from home was a bit stressful as well, you missed having your parents right around the corner if you needed them. You were currently in your dorm, typing away at your computer. Trying desperately to find filler words to make your essay 2000 words. It was Friday which you used to look forward to but now, it was the one day a week when not only your body but your mind was the sorest. After training every day after school on top of how hard the educational material makes you feel like you had nothing left. Even though you were exhausted you were trying to get your homework for Monday done tonight. You really had to power through it sometimes but it always made the weekend more enjoyable when you didn’t have to worry about it. There was a soft knock on your door.

“Come in!” you called out. The door opens and Deku enters the room.

“Hey Y|N, a couple of us were gonna go out and grab something to eat. I just wanted to let you know, extend the invite,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Awe thank you for the invite but I think I’m gonna stay here and work on some assignments. Thank you for offering though, that’s very sweet of you,” you politely decline.

“Are you sure? We're only gonna be gone for an hour, we weren’t planning on being out for a while,” he insisted.

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it without this essay being done. I really appreciate it though,” you said, he gave you an understanding smile before leaving your room.

You could never read Deku, there were times you felt like he was flirting with you but he was so nice to everyone. Sometimes you thought maybe you just weren’t used to boys at your school who were so well mannered. Therefore you were romanticizing how he goes out of his way to be nice. In class or at lunch, you would sometimes catch him staring. Or during training, you would notice that he would coincidentally become your partner in a lot of combat drills. You would always brush this off as him trying to make you feel welcomed as the new girl but there were other times that you were so sure he was trying to send a message. One time when you were walking back from the kitchen to your dorm when you ran into him. The conversation wasn’t anything remarkable but, you could feel like he was trying to make conversation out of nothing; like he wanted to keep you in his presence longer. Finally, when you finish the rough draft of your essay, you give yourself a pat on the back feeling quite happy. You close your laptop and go to grab your math textbook and the three pages of unsolved equations. As you got off the bed you could feel how sore your muscles were, it was as if you could feel every single muscle in your body pulling as you stretched. You lay back down on your stomach and start the first problem but you were passed out onto the book before you could start problem 4.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was a drool stain on your book which you tried to wipe away. You grabbed your phone to see what time it was only to discover you were asleep for a little over 2 hours. It was 11:00 pm and your stomach was hurting from how hungry you were. You sat up on your bed and threw your old tee shirt off and grabbed a fresh one. After putting on some sweatpants and a pair of socks, you make your way to the kitchen. It must have been a tough week because the entire dormitory was silent. Other than a few T.V.s or radios playing from some student’s rooms you could hear a pin drop. You start to rummage through different cupboards and the fridge, not really finding anything. You grab a diet coke and continue looking.

“I brought you back some-” Deku started but was interrupted by you practically jumping 5 feet in the air.

“Holy shit Deku you scared the crap out of me,” you said, grabbing your heart to check if it was still in your chest.

“Sorry I just wanted to tell you that I brought you some take-out,” he said, going into the fridge and pulling out two containers.

“Thank you, here let me grab my wallet,” you said, setting the food on the counter.

“No, don't worry about it,” he said.

“Well.. thank you. I would have eaten something instant,” you said, putting one of the containers in the microwave.

It was moments like these where you got mixed singles. He could have left a note, knocked on your door, or even texted you to let you know that he got you food. It seemed like he was waiting for you, to be able to talk to you in person. It was so refreshing to be around a guy like Izuku. He was just so genuine and you could tell he was never trying to act cool or tough. Which was how most boys in your class acted. He was just so sweet and kind but still could be powerful and forward when he needed to be. It was just so awkward because imagine confessing your feelings to someone who doesn’t feel the same way AND having to live with that person after. The idea of that seemed less than pleasant to you.

“It’s no problem, I’ve forgotten to eat when I’m studying. Even worse after really intense training, makes my stomach feel like it’s eating itself,” he said, grabbing a bottle of water.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it,” you said.

“So I know you’re new and I heard overheard that your quirk has to do with sleep. Instead of assuming I thought I’d just ask you personally what exactly it is,” Deku said.

“I can travel into people’s dreams and talk to their subconscious,” you said, taking the food out of the microwave.

“Oh okay, so Are you planning on working at Midnight’s agency once you get certified?” he asked.

“Yeah, hopefully, because our quirks work so well together she’ll pick me as one of her sidekicks. I think it would be cool to have a costume made by her stylist, she always looks so cool,” you giggled then blowing on your food to help cool it down.

“Yeah you would look great,” he said probably before he really thought about it. When you looked up he had a deep red blush painted across his freckles.

“Am I- or like, I thought you and Uraraka were dating,” you said, putting a lid on the food.

“What? No, we’re not together and I just-” he started.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to pry or anything,” you said.

“No, it’s okay but why do you ask?” he asked.

“I was just asking, sorry I know it was random. Thank you again for the food,” you said walking back to your dorm.

You felt like such a coward, you were just thinking to yourself how you were getting tired of not knowing how he felt. That was the perfect opportunity to ask him but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not to mention that you were juggling a lot and would adding a guy to that really be helping things? Probably not but you couldn’t help how you feel. You sat on your bed and started picking at the food, it upset you that you didn’t have the courage to ask him if he liked you. You started considering if you should dream walk. Normally you wouldn’t go into someone’s dreams to pry into their subconscious but you felt like you were in between a rock and a hard place. At least if the answer was no, it wouldn’t be awkward from day to day seeing him in class and in the common areas. Obviously, Uraraka had a thing for him and you didn’t want to cause any drama or anything but at the same time if she seriously wanted Izuku she would have had him by now. You set the food on your desk and took a shower, you were still considering whether to carry out your plan or not. You turn the water to be as scolding as your skin could take, using your fingernails to really scrub the shampoo into your scalp. After rinsing, you change into some comfortable clothes and begin to start setting up your room. You don’t need candles to enter a person’s dream but you notice that it helps keep you more focused and to stay for longer periods of time. Arranging the candles into a circle and sitting in the middle, you finally began. You closed your eyes and started focusing on whose dream you wanted to enter: Izuku’s.

It was dark at first but then you could see visions of his dreams. Most people assume it’s only one dream a person has at night but it’s actually a collection of different events in your life that your brain jumps back and forth from. Taking out pieces and allowing your imagination to reconstruct those pieces. For example: if you ever dreamed that you were hanging with friends then suddenly you were at school or work. That’s your brain jumping back and forth from dream to dream. You could see in the center of the pitch-black space was Izuku sleeping in his bed, snoring away. You hold back a small chuckle before looking above him and seeing his dreams. He had a couple of different scenarios, one of him fighting a nameless villain, most likely caused by how much he was training. One of him at what you assumed to be his mother’s house, eating at the dining room table. The next one took your breath away, it was you while you were battling Momo during a combat drill. You expanded the dream, looking at all the different scenarios of yourself. In one of them, I could see him at his desk, drawing a character page about you. When he flipped the page over, he was drawing what he imagined your room to look like. This warmed your heart, it was just so sweet. There was one more scenario of you sitting at the lunch table with a couple of your friends. You were really excited to know that you were right, that he did like you. After exiting his dream and returning back to your room, you blow out the candles. Letting the wax solidify a bit before putting it away. By this time the sun was starting to rise and you were utterly exhausted.

Your hair was somewhat dry and the dark circles under your eyes were extremely puffy. Even though you were so disheveled and tired, you couldn’t help but be thrilled about knowing Izuku liked you back. Or at least thought about you at the very least. Right as you were about to lay down, there was a knock at your door. You throw your hair into a quick bun before opening the door. Your face burns a vibrant red when you see that it’s Izuku. His hair was messy, more so than usual. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his sweatpants hung low, showing his boxers. His eyes were squinty and his brow furrowed.

“Did you go into my dreams last night?” he asks with a raspy voice, leaving you completely speechless.

#fluff fanfiction #fanfic writing #short fanfic #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #my hero academia #ochako uraraka #deku x y/n #mha oc #boku no hero acedamia #my hero acedamia fanfic #deku midoriya #midoriya x reader #mha x reader #izuku x you #izuku x y/n

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sirianasims · 7 days

Text

Chapter 43.5

Idiot.

The voice in my head is persistent. It’s been over two months but it’s not letting up.

I try to focus on the lines, struggling to keep the faint remnants of my Tartosan accent from creeping into Llama Man’s commanding voice. It’s always more difficult just after I’ve been home.

Idiot.

Images from the last year keep flashing by, little details seared into my brain. Her green eyes. Her smile. The delicate birthmarks artfully strewn across her face. I used to insist on kissing each of them goodbye before I left and it always made her laugh.

It was the best sound in the world.

Idiot.

The more recent images are a different story. Her tears. The look of shock and confusion in her eyes. She didn’t understand, of course, and some days I’m not sure I do either. Am I an idiot for leaving her? Or for letting myself fall in love with her in the first place?

Both?

“Alright, Paul, that was good, but let’s do an extra take just to be sure.”

I nod at the sound technician and start over.

“I’ve sent the files off to Mike. Personally, I don’t think he’ll demand another round, the last two takes were flawless.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry for dragging you in for pick-ups again, I’ve been feeling a bit off lately.”

“Hey, it’s a pay check. And I’m going to need it for the move. We want to get settled into the new house before my son’s wedding so we’re already packing.”

“Did you find a job in Henford yet?”

“Not yet, but my wife got an offer. We’ll make it work. My kid is the only family I have left, so if he moves abroad, we follow. And I never liked staying in one place for too long anyway, I get restless.”

“Well, best of luck over there, Charles. The new sound tech will have some big shoes to fill.”

“Thanks, Paul. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

Charles leaves, and I turn on the coffee machine.

I’ve just finished pouring two mugs when Lee arrives.

“Oh, you must have read my mind, love, I am positively dying for a coffee right now.”

“When are you not?”

Lee settles onto the sofa with a sigh.

“It’s been one of those weeks, deadlines put such a damper on my creativity. But how was Tartosa? Did you have a nice birthday?”

“It was fine. I didn’t feel like making it a huge thing, but my mother had arranged a family dinner at the vineyard.”

“Ah, just an intimate and completely non-threatening gathering with fifteen to twenty people, then.”

I lean back against the counter and take a long sip of the coffee to avoid responding. It’s still too hot, and I grimace as the liquid burns my mouth. Idiot.

Lee isn’t so easily deterred, though.

“So, that’s it? You’re just never going to see her again?”

“Lee, first of all, she blocked me. On my birthday, no less. So I’m going to take that as a big fat hint and respect her wishes. Second, I broke up with her because it was a dead end. She’s not going to settle down for another decade, and when she does, she’s not going to pick some fifty year old relic.”

Lee raises an eyebrow.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, I said it. Sorry to break it to you, Lee, but you’re old. Ancient. Practically dust.”

“I’m choosing to ignore your hurtful remarks because you’re clearly heartbroken and out of your mind with grief.”

I snort. “Sorry. I’m fine, really, I’m just annoyed at myself.”

“For irrationally breaking up with the love of your life or for stubbornly refusing to reconsider?”

“For being an idiot in general, I guess. I knew it was a bad idea. I even told her as much the first time I met her. But then I just had to go back and talk to her again like a complete dumbass and she practically invited herself back to my hotel. How could I say no to that?”

Lee chuckles. “Oh, but you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t. I mean, she’s not exactly my type, but I can still appreciate the aesthetics, as it were.”

“Right? And that might even have been fine if it never went any further, but I got carried away and kept seeing her even though everyone could tell it was going to end badly. We’re both better off like this, I’ll get over it.”

Lee just looks at me over the rim of his glasses.

“Are you sure? I may be a dusty old relic but as far as I’m aware, the only way you could possibly know that she blocked you is if you spent your birthday trying to look her up.”

“Thanks, detective. It was a moment of weakness, you don’t need to rub it in my face.”

“I’m not trying to rub anything in your face, love, I know it’s not your thing. But you were clearly serious about her if you were planning to bring her to Tartosa. And just because the poor girl understandably got slightly intimidated, you drop her like a newborn giraffe. Why not give her some more time?”

“I didn’t… Lee, it was the sensible thing to do! I just turned forty, I can’t just spend years waiting for her to make up her mind and hope for the best.”

“I don’t share your fetish for monogamy, but I believe all relationships are like that, you can never be certain. But you’ve always been stubborn so I’ll just give you the usual break-up advice. Get a haircut, hit the gym, put yourself back out there. Will you at least see my stylist?”

“Never. I am not brave enough to let Jessica Clemons near my wardrobe.”

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen5 #paul romeo #charlie ward #lee thompson #oh hi charlie #bye charlie?#two protagonists? in this economy?#it's more likely than you think

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greenerteacups · 26 days

Note

Hi GT, I have a confession to make: I read all of the Harry Potter books and didn't like them, to the point that I cannot remember anything from canon. But reading your fic feels like I am getting to experience the magic everyone else felt when they read the OG series, so thank you for that!

I wanted to say that I especially appreciate your treatment of the female characters. Obviously you are getting rid of the weird misogyny and competitiveness of the books in regard to Hermione, Fleur, Molly, etc (I especially love your Molly, and the respect she gets from the other Order members is delightful) but I really appreciate it when it comes to the "reminiscing" parts of the story. It always bothered the hell out of me that Lily seems to have nobody who really remembers her? Like she was clever and pretty and nice and yet all anybody talks about is how cool James is and he has all these bros who would die for him while Lily had ... No friends? Apparently? Anyway sorry this is so long but I really really really appreciated that Molly, Lupin, Sirius, etc. don't just forget about her in your version, and talk her up to Harry as much as they do his dad.

This is a really incredible compliment. Thank you! It makes me incredibly happy to hear you're having that experience. It was one of the foundational moments of my childhood, and to share it with someone else is a magical privilege.

Lily is so dear to me, even though the source gives us rather little about her. I think it's a great shame that Harry in canon grows up mostly around his father's former friends, who happened to survive the war, whereas Lily's friends (we imagine probably the Gryffindor girls, so... Marlene, Dorcas, etc.?) are all dead or missing when the story starts. There's something grotesquely tragic about that, upon reflection: Harry is robbed of knowledge of his mother because of how the war destroyed her living memory. It's such an insidious remark on what death takes away — not just one life, but the memories and love that the life represented.

I was endlessly inspired by that one throwaway remark Lupin makes about being friends with Lily. It's really odd, in the context of Lupin's setup as a Marauder, that when he finally gets a one-on-one with Harry about his parents, his first move isn't to talk about James, but Lily. (Of course, this is on the heels of a comment about Lily's eyes, but like — Harry is said by many people to look like James, and if Lupin was James's friend first, shouldn't that have been the thing that struck him? Wouldn't it be "you so resemble your father, one of my dearest friends on this earth"?) And what was that kindness Lily showed to Remus? Especially since James literally altered his own biochemistry and risked his life in order to support him on full moons? I'm not saying Lily wasn't a true friend to Remus, but like — that's kind of a hard gesture to top, Lils!!

Between that and the goldfish story with Slughorn, Lily gets a phantom characterization as this intensely selfless, giving person. Problem being: that's not a personality, that's a character value. And we don't talk about people we miss that way! We don't go "damn, I'm missing my friend Lily, a noble heart capable of great kindness," we go "oh damn, Lily would have loved that joke," or "those were her favorite kind of pickles," or "I bet she'd have hated that guy." It's the ephemera of knowing someone that we use to feed their memory, and it's that ephemera Harry will never get.

#greenteacup asks

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lisbeth-kk · 11 months

Text

Bitter

Thanks for another prompt @calaisreno

Sweet doesn’t suit you

John’s dates have a certain pattern. On the first date they meet outside the cinema and watch a film together. Right before they walk into the cinema hall, John receives a text from Sherlock. The words varies but the essence is as follows.

You will fall asleep halfway through. SH

Seriously, John. SH

The father abducted the child. SH

How Sherlock knows which film they’re watching, is beyond John, but he’s stopped caring about that long ago. He finds the texts amusing and feels himself relax once he hears the familiar ding from his phone. If his dates ever ask who the texts are from, John answers honestly, that it’s his flatmate. Neither has to date asked a follow-up question.

***

On the second date, they go to a museum or take a walk in one of London’s parks. After, they find a nice café somewhere and sit down for a coffee. As sure as the Earth goes around the Sun, Sherlock’s texts arrive after they’ve seated themselves at a table.

Eating that cake will hunt your stomach for hours, John. SH

She’s literally drooling over those macaroons. SH

Why does she have a dog when she’s allergic? SH

John chuckles when he reads the texts and shakes his head in amusement. He knows Sherlock sometimes follows him, and sometimes even John’s dates to gather data. It had irked John in the beginning, and he’d shouted and cursed quite a lot, but now he’s internally pleased with Sherlock’s weird interest in his love life.

This time, there are follow-up questions. Why does his flatmate text him? Anything in particular? A crisis of sorts? What’s he like?

And John’s almost unstoppable when asked to describe his flatmate and best friend. He covers it all. From his brilliant brain, the deductions, his skills as a musician and his affection for their landlady. He leaves out the looks, if they don’t asks specifically though.

***

On the third date, they go out for dinner. Dress up a bit. Sherlock always looks him over before he goes. Straightens his lapels or tie.

“It wouldn’t do our business any good if you turn up all rumpled, John,” Sherlock explains when John protests to the manhandling.

They always have an appetizer before the main course, and there’s also wine involved. At the end of the main course, there’s most likely to be fingers brushing a hand or arm and inviting eyes. When the intensity rises and their glasses are empty, John’s phone buzzes. He always turns the sound off but leaves the vibration on.

Have cheese. The other dessert’s are appalling. SH

Sweet doesn't suit you. The bitter chocolate cake may suffice. SH

Lestrade has an interesting case for us. Coming? SH

John always gets a bit tipsy after some glasses of wine, and Sherlock’s texts make him snort or laugh a bit too loud. His dates rarely appreciate it. They turn bitter, saying it’s all been a waste of their precious time. A fourth date is a thing John’s yet to experience. To his relief, come to think of it. He has more fun and excitement with Sherlock anyway. If he could have Sherlock’s love and share his bed, John would choose that any given day.

***

It’s his third, and probably last, date with Mia. She’s boring John almost to death with her daft remarks and interests. Therefore, John’s taken aback by her question. He’s just laughed at a text from Sherlock.

Do you think she’ll suck you off under the table if you ask nicely? SH

“You love him, don’t you?” Mia asks.

“What?”

John’s stunned. What on earth is she on about?

“It’s clear as day, even to me,” she explains. “I mean he’s texted you on every date we’ve had, and the way your face lights up when you read them…”

John feels his cheek blush and he rubs his neck awkwardly.

“Uhm…are you serious?” he asks tentatively.

“Look, John, you’re a lovely man, and if anyone ever would look at me like you look at your phone…well, I can tell you I’d be more than pleased. And he must love you as well.”

“No, way. Sherlock doesn’t do relationships. Not romantic ones at least,” John says and sobers at the thought, which makes his heart ache a bit.

“I think you’re wrong. Think about it, John. If he’s not interested in you romantically why is he texting you when he knows you’re on a date?”

***

They parted outside the restaurant, without eating dessert, and there was no bitterness to be traced in Mia’s features. She just wished him good luck.

John ponders and twists Mia’s words in his mind while he’s walking home. She has a point. No other mate of his would go to all the trouble Sherlock has. They would barely bother with questions at all, let alone text him. As he locks himself in to 221 Baker Street, a flare of hope rises in him.

What if Mia’s right?

The violin starts to play just before John enters the flat. One of his favourite pieces. Silently he hangs up his jacket, tugs off his shoes and seats himself on the sofa. He drinks in the sight of Sherlock. His straight posture, the tight white shirt revealing his muscles moving underneath, his strong arms, the perfectly styled curls. John’s eyes drop to the plush and mouthwatering arse for a second. He swallows audibly and his trousers feels tight around his groin.

Jesus, the effect only a minute of eyeing the man has on him!

A sudden determination leads John to his feet, and he moves towards Sherlock. The piece is at an end and Sherlock lowers the bow and violin.

John’s right behind him now and lifts a trembling hand, placing it between Sherlock’s shoulder blades. To John’s surprise Sherlock doesn’t flinch and John finds his courage. He moves his hands to Sherlock’s flanks and leans his forehead to the spot where his hand were. Sherlock sighs and whispers John’s name.

“This okay, Sherlock?” John asks.

Sherlock confirms with a hum and John slides his arms around Sherlock’s waist and pulls him in to a proper embrace.

He smells so good!

“No fourth date, then?” Sherlock inquires after a while.

John chuckles and turns Sherlock around to face him. He carefully releases him of the violin and bow, placing the objects carefully on the desk. The vulnerable look in Sherlock’s eyes, tells John everything.

“Brilliant deduction. I’ll only go on dates with my gorgeous flatmate from now on,” John states and pulls Sherlock down for their first kiss.

Bitter women, sweet boys!

@totallysilvergirl @raina-at @missdeliadili @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @keirgreeneyes @gaylilsherlock

#sherlock fandom #johnlock #sherlock #sherlock fanfic #john watson #ao3 fanfic #sherlock holmes #may prompts #bitter #dating #first kiss

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levmada · 2 years

Text

fluff alphabet [4/6]

This part contains N–Q: nicknames, how he's like in love, PDA, and quirk!

wc: ~.8k

warnings: none

N » Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Levi’s short on nicknames. He really just doesn’t care for them (the whole 'doesn’t show affection with words' thing) so most times he’ll affectionately refer to you by your first name or any shortened version of it. I don't believe he ever really calls his partner 'brat' unless they're acting like one.

However - there are exceptions to his petnames. Catch him in a soft moment, do a very nice favor for him like brewing him a cup of tea?? In his arsenal of nicknames he likes calling you ‘sweetness’ and ‘sweetheart’ (“Nice of you, sweetheart.”), or in the most fragile of moments: ‘love’ or ‘dear’.

“I’ve got you… I got you, love.”

O » On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He’s in a good mood almost all the time ! But, this means him simply... not looking like he wants to mouth off at someone all the time. He carries himself lighter, he feels lighter, and he only has a very neutral frown instead of a small, constant scowl.

Levi being in love doesn’t make him any less harsh in his training regimen, but he’s much less grumpy about it; not so chock-full of sardonic and depressing remarks about the world around him.

He’s also more talkative, not that he’ll just ramble on and on (unless you put Levi in a convo about something he has strong thoughts about, in which he’s prone to stammering when he gets in too deep, because he’s normally always measuring his words before he speaks🥺) — but he’ll make a lot of comments, even if no one is really listening... except his partner, ofc.

Anyone who knows Levi pretty well (Hange, Erwin, Levi’s squad) will notice pretty quick. Everyone is thankful to you 🙏 Because instead of Levi acting like an asshole constantly, it’s only some of the time and he’s more ambivalent to everything lol.

Levi expresses his lovey dovey romantic feelings in front of no one but his partner😭Even the times he does, he's not mushy at all - a little fragile behind the eyes, though :(

He does things for you all the time, especially when you don't ask him to, and every once in a while, he may offer a, "I appreciate you here. With me," or "A lot of this world reeks of shit. I got lucky with you."

P » PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Not at all! Very rarely will Levi insinuate there’s something going on b/n him and his partner, let alone brag about it. He prefers to keep most of his private feelings/life … private. He’s not embarrassed or ashamed of course, but he gets flustered easily :(

That said, catch him just about standing on your heels when you’re in the same room - often, he’ll somehow catch your gaze because you’re always on his mind :( You’re almost always seated pretty close to each other in meetings too (if you’re a Scout) where he’ll rest his hand on your thigh… and, if you want to hold his hand, he can only give you a difficult look before begrudgingly complying.

He does a total 180 when he’s alone with you, and will in fact paw for your hand and put it in his hair (or any part of you he can reach) if you’re not taking the hint that he wants your undivided attention. If you’re all over him, he’s actually quite affectionate and will put his arm around you if he’s reading over paperwork on a couch.

If he’s just coming out the other side of one of his insomnia spells?? Levi will crawl right on top of you in the late afternoon and just lay there with his head tucked under your chin for however long you’ll let him, or however long he can nap for.

Q » Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Levi is malewife material. This is much more applicable to a modern au in my mind, but?? No question that he will gladly make sure the house is spotless every waking day 😭 Impeccable at folding laundry, and can in fact get any stain out of even the toughest fabric. Like we’re talking wine/hot cocoa/whatever out of the whitest clothes!!

And on the subject of Levi’s malewife potential, he grew up Underground so there’s no question he can be given the cheapest, most basic of ingredients and somehow make it delectable. By extension, I bet he knows how to sew, too.

Literal malewife/trophy husband.

#levi aot #levi ackerman fluff #attack on titan #captain levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #g.scribe #levi #aot #levi attack on titan #levi fluff #levi headcanons #snk #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #aot hcs #aot fluff

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ciaossu-imagines · 22 days

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omg, finding someone else who detests eggs like me is such a relief! i feel like i just met my other egg-hating half, haha! everyone around me likes them, so i feel sort of embarrassed when eggs are served during mealtimes and then people look at me like i’ve committed a crime by being the only one not eating them. god, it’s exhausting to have to explain or justify myself.

anyway, i appreciate you taking the time to read my self-ship headcanons. i find it heartwarming that you’re always excited and enthusiastic about your readers’ interests. i noticed that you reblogged prompts, so this time i have something to send in. from the ask game, can you do 🐰🐶💎🌿? i’m interested (and i’m sure the other readers are as well) in getting to know you more!

- nix

I know what you mean! Everyone I know definitely is an egg person and they keep telling me that oh, I just haven’t tried them prepared like this or I’ll love them if they’re in something. And they’re kind of right on that one – I tell them I like them in cake and cookies and they look at me like I’ve committed some kind of culinary crime in disliking them. I know the struggle. Also get lots of weird looks for saying I hate Jello – it’s a texture thing though. Squishy makes me so blegh and it’s not pretty, haha!

Heck, I appreciate you sending them in. They gave me so many smiles and happiness today and I appreciated the nice chance of pace and distraction! Thanks to that and other messages sent in, I made it through the commission I was working on and got inspired to reply to a couple emails, and write one post to add to the queue eventually! Honestly, hearing all about your guy’s interests, ships and characters inspire me as a creator too! Also, thank you so much for wanting to get to know me more! I find that really sweet and very flattering 😊

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

This is a lesson I’ve learned the hard way, but people’s actions speak volumes. Unfortunately, it’s been a lesson hard learned, but anyone can say pretty words, anyone can promise you the moon and the stars, anyone can convince you that they’re this amazing person just from their words alone, but their actual actions and what they do will speak volumes more. People whose actions tell me they’re a good person, people whose actions show kindness, respect, and strong morals and character – those are the people I have learned are safe to trust and open my heart to and let into my life. I hope nobody ever has to learn that lesson the hard way, of course, but do believe that people’s actions should be what others judge them by, not their words alone, not some superstition based on star signs, not their looks, not their mental illnesses, not their physical capabilities…just their actions.

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

Both! I love all animals – up until my last couple and current apartment, which are pet free, I’ve always had a cat and love lavishing my friend’s dogs with attention and treats. Once I get a new apartment (or, crossing my fingers, my own house), I definitely want a cat again and I would kill for a place where I can have a pig again! Just a mini-pig, honestly. I have a friend who got one and I love them so much. They’re harder to train than a cat, yes, but once they’re trained, they’re smart and cuddly and lovely pets.

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

I have a leather jacket a friend gifted me. Yes, you guys can be mad at me, it’s indeed real and genuine leather, a motorcycle jacket so I’d be a bit safe when I rode behind him. It’s lasted me eight years now and looks almost the same as it did when I got it. Not only has it held up remarkably well, it’s warm enough to last me into December (though I admittedly run hot) some winters, most definitely into November. It also looks good with everything I own, has good pockets on it. I also have a hand-me down cut from the same friend that I wear when I’m feeling really lonely, as it always reminds me of him. I’ve had some rude people tell me it looks ridiculous on me, especially when I wear it with my usual pastel dresses and frilly skirts, but he always told me I rocked it like no one else, so I take his confidence into all days when I wear it.

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

I wear a lot of dresses and skirts, to be honest. It’s only in winter that I start throwing on pants or when I have to work (uniform and all). My favourite one is super geeky though! I’m actually going to add a picture here!

I’ll throw leggings on under it in chillier weather and always wear bike shorts under all my dresses and skirts (I’m super active and tend to sit like a man, so they protect my modesty). It’s old now, at least five or six years old and it’s been washed so much the colours aren’t as vibrant and it’s all stretched out, but it will have to come apart at the seams before I give up wearing it.

#admin chatter

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voraciousvore · 6 months

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Bucky's (20/44)

Chapter 20: Ronny's Apartment

Ronny didn’t take a direct path home, in case he was being followed. By the time he circled around to his apartment building, it was late, and the large side of the city was enveloped in the black velvet of night. Tanya stayed quiet in his hand, quaking slightly. Ronny wasn’t sure if she was just experiencing strong emotions, or if she was afraid of him. He hoped her shivering wasn’t from the latter, although he could certainly understand if she was frightened. Even though he had saved her, he was still a Giant after all, and he figured she must’ve had some pretty terrible interactions with Giants at the restaurant. He knew he would have to be very patient and understanding with her.

As he ascended the stairs of his apartment building, a pit of nervousness settled in his stomach. He had not prepared for this moment at all. He didn’t know how Patty—he had to remind himself she was now Tanya—would react. He couldn’t read her well. He had no idea if she actually liked him or not, at all. She had been sweet and kind to him, and he had definitely felt a connection, but he had to consider the context of all their interactions up to that point. She had been an entrée on his dinner plate: Of course she had been nice to him. He’d be foolish to assume she felt the same way about him as he felt about her. She was probably just placating him.

Ronny exhaled when he reached his apartment and placed his hand on the door handle. He opened the door and internally cringed upon seeing the familiar mess that greeted them. Since he hadn’t planned anything out, he hadn’t bothered to clean up at all in anticipation of having a guest over. He burned with shame as he surveyed the mountains of garbage on the floor, tables buried under dirty coffee cups and plates, clutter and grime and dust.

“Well... this is it,” he remarked. He waited for the inevitable criticism. Tanya was sure to comment on how disgusting his living space was, just like his ex that always nagged him for being lazy and sloppy. He sighed morosely.

Tanya craned her neck back to gaze up at him. “Thank you for opening your home to me, Ronny,” she said with a kind smile. “I really appreciate it.”

Ronny arched his eyebrows with surprise, not expecting such gratitude, but quickly repressed a blush and coached himself back to a more neutral expression. “S-sure thing,” he mumbled. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He hesitated, not sure what to do. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he had hardly eaten anything at all today. Tanya instinctively shuddered at the sound.

“Sorry,” Ronny apologized. He felt guilty for scaring her with his body, and even more guilty when he recalled how he had been fantasizing about eating her earlier. His hunger, and indeed his lust, had been the primary driving force that had compelled him to obsess over her and provided the motivation to save her from Bucky’s in the first place. Yet again, he was disgusted with himself for his selfishness.

“I-it’s okay,” Tanya responded softly, pulling Ronny out of his spiral of regret. “I understand. You can’t control what your body does.”

Ronny shoved away his unpleasant thoughts and returned his full attention to Tanya. “I should eat. Are you hungry at all? I can make you something.”

“Actually... yeah, I am,” Tanya admitted. Ronny carried Tanya to the kitchen and set her down on the countertop. He was saddened to see her shaking again in response to being in a Giant’s kitchen. Her eyes nervously darted around to examine the oversized kitchen accoutrements around her, including Ronny’s gigantic coffee pot, the immense shiny toaster, and in particular the block full of large knives. Her face paled to a lighter shade, but Ronny could tell she was making an effort to compose herself. She struggled to stop shaking and gave Ronny a weak smile. The corners of his lips turned up in response.

Ronny was tired, and he didn’t have much time before he needed to get to sleep since he had work the following day, so he heated up a frozen prepackaged dinner in the microwave. He was somewhat embarrassed, to feed a guest such slop, but he didn’t have the energy to put in more effort. He collected a saucer from his kitchen cabinet and spooned out microscopic portions of the soft mush sufficiently sized for Tanya, keeping the rest for himself. He pulled up a chair to sit in so he could be closer to Tanya while he ate dinner.

He set down the saucer in front of her. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any human silverware,” Ronny informed her, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ll have to eat with your hands.” After a moment of consideration, he tore off a small strip of paper towel and handed it to her.

“That’s fine,” Tanya said. “We didn’t get silverware at Bucky’s either. He made us eat out of a trough like swine.” She grimaced at the recollection and chased it out of her mind. “At least I’m finally free of that horrible place.”

She shoveled some of the food out of the saucer with her hands and began to eat. The food wasn’t very appetizing, when Tanya was used to eating restaurant-quality leftovers, but she was grateful nevertheless. She’d rather eat the most insipid, revolting slop for the rest of her life than be trapped at Bucky’s with the finest dining. Besides, Bucky had been fattening up the humans to make them more palatable for customer consumption, quite an unsavory consideration that lessened the pleasure of good food.

Tanya surreptitiously examined Ronny as the Giant quietly ate his own meal with a fork, head down. He glanced over at her and she quickly averted her gaze to her food and continued eating. She still wasn’t sure what to think of Ronny. He had saved her, and she owed him so much for that, but she was uncertain of his intentions. She had only had a few interactions with him, but she didn’t know him all that well, and he seemed like a mysterious and complex character.

Just because he had saved her, didn’t mean that he had her best interests at heart. Tanya’s innards twisted up as she realized she might be in trouble. This man was still a Giant, after all. He had ordered her as food and eaten her every time she ended up on his dinner plate. Being “nice” and “saving her” meant nothing if he had just taken her to use her for his own purposes, to satisfy his own needs.

What if he took her home just so he could eat her—or worse—as much as he wanted? He was acting civilized now, but that could change in a heartbeat. What if he kept her as a pet, a toy, an object for his own amusement? Tanya gulped and started to sweat. She looked around the kitchen, recognizing how helpless and small she was, even outside of Bucky’s, in spaces designed for Giants to live. She couldn’t even escape the kitchen counter without dying. She started to hyperventilate. She was trapped again. Panic seized her heart with icy fingers and refused to let go.

“Tanya? What’s wrong?” Ronny’s deep Giant voice snapped her out of oblivion. She was abruptly aware that Ronny had stood up out of his chair and was leaning over her, casting a dark shadow as he blocked out the light. The colossus of a man crouched down to be closer to her level, touching his scruffy chin to the counter and planting his gargantuan hands on the countertop. “Are you okay?”

Beholding him so vast and close, almost to where she could reach out and touch him, filled Tanya with foreboding. She briefly lost her voice as she stared into his landscape of a face, up into his dark eyes. However, she didn’t sense any malice from those eyes, only concern. Perhaps even hurt, a soft weakness hiding behind a feral intensity. She swallowed and struggled to form words.

“Ronny...” she squeaked. He stayed motionless, waiting to see what she had to say. She took a deep breath. “Why did you save me?”

Ronny blinked. “To... rescue you from Bucky’s? I thought that’s what you wanted?” His face contorted with confusion. Maybe mild anger.

“Well, yes, of course. I’d be dead right now if you didn’t.” Tanya had to stop and compose herself as she recalled the horrors she had seen, and how she was nearly snuffed out in the same brutal manner. She took a shaky breath. “I’m not expressing myself here clearly,” she muttered.

Ronny’s black eyebrows turned down, bringing a dark edge to his expression. “I don’t understand.” Tanya took a fearful step backwards.

“What I mean is... what I’m trying to say...” She choked down a thick lump forming in her throat and forced her mouth to expel her thoughts. “What do you want with me? What are your intentions?”

Ronny seemed taken aback by her questions. He blushed hotly and struggled to recover, to hide what he was really feeling, but his sentiments were plain as day on his roasting cheeks. “Um... I dunno...” He staggered back, putting some distance between himself and Tanya, and sat bashfully back down in his chair. He looked down at his hands and fidgeted. “I don’t know. I just wanted to help you. I didn’t really... um... plan any of this out,” he clarified. He shot her an embarrassed glance, to gauge her response.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Tanya’s heart fluttered in her chest. She did think Ronny was a very attractive man. She just didn’t know him well enough to trust him with her life, and she wasn’t going to be very trusting of Giants in general after everything she had suffered through at their hands. She felt differently about Ronny, though. He didn’t appear to have ill intent. He seemed to be grappling with his feelings, as if ashamed of himself. Tanya’s heart softened with sympathy. Even so, she wanted to be clear that she was safe.

“You won’t... do anything to me though, right?” Tanya asked him timidly, nervous about how he would answer.

Ronny gave her a long look, clearly clueless. “Like what?”

“Like... keep me prisoner? Eat me? Hurt me? Or...or...” Tanya trembled as her imagination conjured up even darker possibilities.

Ronny looked horrified. “Heavens, no! I would never hurt you!” He felt a tug of guilt as he remembered all the terrible things he had done in the past, but he pushed those thoughts firmly out of his mind. He was trying to do better now, and dwelling on the past wouldn’t help. He was a changed man. He scooped her up in his hands and brought her up close to his face in earnest.

“I won’t keep you here if you’re determined to leave,” he assured her, and she seemed relieved at his words. “However, you might want to stay hidden for at least a couple of days so they don’t find you. After that, I’ll be happy to help you back over to the human side.”

Tanya’s momentary relief melted into melancholy. “I don’t think I can go back...” she murmured quietly. She realized, in that moment, that she wasn’t just a fugitive on the large side of the city. She hadn’t served her full sentence. If she rejoined the humans, she could get caught and sent back. It dawned on her she’d never be able to go back and live a normal life. She was overwhelmed with despair, and tears pooled in her eyes. She might never see her family again.

Seeing her so upset, Ronny didn’t think to ask for her reasoning. He sought to comfort her as best he could. “Hey, hey...” he cooed gently, cupping his hands in a sort of hug around her. “We’ll figure something out. You can stay here as long as you’d like, okay? It’s not like you take up a lot of space.” He smiled.

Tanya nodded, sniffling. Ronny marveled that he could feel such tenderness for a human. He had never experienced that sort of protective urge as he felt now, to defend the miniature woman sitting in his hands from any harm. Usually he felt more like eating humans, or tormenting and crushing them. He was slightly disturbed by this change in his heart, but it wasn’t an unwelcome development.

The night was late, and Ronny found himself yawning. Tanya shirked back from his gaping mouth, but Ronny failed to notice. “I have to get to bed. I have work tomorrow,” Ronny observed, lumbering to the bedroom with Tanya in his hand. Tanya suddenly felt nervous for a whole different reason. Ronny’s bedroom was just as messy as the rest of his apartment, with dirty clothes strewn on the floor, empty cups on his nightstand, and the bed unmade. Ronny’s bed was large enough for two, but he only slept on one side out of habit. He set Tanya down on the side he didn’t use, on a pillow. She sank down into the cushion, but her plush perch was comfortable.

“I’m going to take a quick shower, since I was running around and got all sweaty,” Ronny informed her. Truthfully, he was very tired and didn’t want to bother with cleaning himself up, but he didn’t want to be smelly around Tanya either. He ran a hand through his slick black hair. “Is there anything I can get you? Anything you need?”

Tanya looked down, picking at her rubbery clothes. “You wouldn’t happen to have any other human clothes I could wear, do you?” She doubted Ronny would have anything for a human and was disheartened at the prospect of wearing the distasteful, indigestible clothing from Bucky’s.

“Sadly, no,” Ronny answered, his eyes softening. “I’ll look into that tomorrow for you. I know you don’t want to be dressing in scant, slutty clothes like that.” Tanya bit back a saucy retort. She didn’t understand Ronny’s peculiar fixation on modesty. She figured she could overlook his odd personality quirk for now, but she didn’t like the idea of him judging her arbitrarily for what she wore.

“Okay,” she affirmed with a nod. Ronny walked out of the room and left her alone while he went to shower. Tanya surveyed the vast bedroom, feeling very small in comparison. The bed alone probably had enough square footage to fit an entire building. She was anxious about sleeping in the same bed as Ronny, but the side she was on appeared untouched. She questioned why Ronny had such a big bed, which looked to be a queen size mattress by human standards, if he only used half of it.

As she listened to the sound of running water in the next room over, Tanya wondered what lay ahead, what her life would be like now. She felt calm, knowing she wouldn’t wake up at Bucky’s and live with the constant fear of being eaten alive, fatally or not, hanging over her head. She was nervous, but cautiously optimistic. She was swimming in uncharted waters, but she figured it couldn’t possibly be worse than what she had suffered through before.

Ronny returned, fresh and clean with wet hair, wearing light shorts and a shirt for sleeping in. He usually just slept in the buff, but obviously that would not be appropriate with a guest. Tanya couldn’t help but flush pink under the circumstances, with her sitting in the bed of this very alluring Giant man, admiring his sturdy body and well-formed limbs visible under his clothes. Ronny didn’t seem to notice, since she was so tiny and he was not very observant with his fatigue. He climbed into bed and clicked off the lamp on the nightstand. Tanya felt the enormous mattress creak and bend with the addition of his hefty frame.

“Goodnight, Pat—er, Tanya,” Ronny corrected himself. After pondering for a second, he pulled up the blanket high enough over the pillow to cover Tanya so she wouldn’t get cold and tucked her in.

“Goodnight,” Tanya responded, barely above a whisper. Ronny laid down flat on his back and fell asleep soon after. Tanya gazed up at the living mountain next to her for a while, observing the rise and fall of his massive chest and the serenity of his stern facial features in slumber, before drifting off herself.

Chapter 21

Chapter 1

#giant #giant/tiny #g/t #tiny #g/t writing #size difference #giant tiny #g/t fluff #Bucky's #size k1nk #size k!nk #gt fluff #gianttiny #gt #g/t story #gt story

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nonhumanresources · 7 months

Text

Caramel Changes

Here's one to get you into the spirit of the season! Short two page TF written all the way back in October 2017, when I did a series of stories for the season. I'd love to do more, autumn is my favorite time of year.

Summary: you get a weird piece of candy while trick or treating. You probably shouldn't eat that. You do.

What to expect: second person caramel-coating bird TF.

Length: 1.2k words. Fun fact, it's actually 1200 exactly including the title; I usually round.

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

“Trick-or-treat!” you shout, holding out a pillowcase nearly filled to the brim. The frail old woman standing in the doorway smiles, showing off her three teeth.

“Oooh, hello there!” she says, her voice as rusty as the hinges on the door. “I’ve got some very exotic candy for you tonight! I made it myself, you know!” There’s a twinkle in her eye as she speaks, dropping a single wrapped caramel in each of your friend’s pillowcases, ending with yours, giving you a toothy smile and a small wink. She waves goodbye as you thank her and turn from the door, walking back down the weedy, unkempt walkway of cracked cement and back to the smooth sidewalk to continue your annual night of candy gathering.

One of your friends stops next to a trash can sitting out on the curb. He pulls out the caramel and tosses it into the black depths, never again to be seen by human eyes - unless someone happened to be living in the city dump.

“We should throw these away. If that old hag really made them herself, there’s no telling what she might have put inside,” he says to the group. One by one, your friends mumble in agreement and pull out their own caramels, each piece sharing the fate of the first. Soon enough, everyone is down one candy and ready to move on.

Well, everyone but you.

Story below the cut, or here if you prefer to read on a Google doc. If you made it this far I am kissing you full on the lips platonically. Or is it platonic? It's queer, that's for sure. Comments/questions/thoughts always appreciated!

You hesitate, staring at the small square. Why would an old lady want to do something like poison candy? She had seemed nice enough. Besides, she was the only person so far who had seemed excited to be handing out free candy. While that was suspicious, to you, it seemed more kindly than anything. You tuck the caramel back into your bag. Your friends stare at you in surprise.

The lead boy shrugs and turns around, tossing a remark over his shoulder. “It’s your funeral!”

You shrug in turn and reply. “Whatever. Let’s go get more candy!”

The night moves on, and you load up on more and more candy until lifting your pillowcase becomes a full-body workout. A couple hours later, you’re shouting a farewell to your friends as they make the trek home. You nearly fall inside your bedroom door, exhausted. You dump your candy bag on the floor and fall over onto your bed, where one of the two pillows is missing it’s cover. You start to drift into sleep, but before you can enter the realms of dreams, you realize with a start: you hadn’t eaten a single piece of candy! Despite being around sweets for hours, you hadn’t eaten even a single branded chocolate; saving your Halloween candy was essential. One piece couldn’t hurt, though. You decide on something small - not too big, but not tiny, either. Something like…

...the caramel. You dig around in your pillowcase and pull it out. Now that you were in the light of your room, you could see colorful swirling patterns breaking up the normal monotone tan of caramel. What had the lady said? It was exotic? Whatever it was, it was like no other caramel you had ever seen, and it looked delicious.

Unrolling the clear wrapper, you pop it into your mouth, excited. Some inevitably sticks to your fingers. The soft caramel melts in your mouth, spreading across your tongue, and down your throat. It leaves you with a warm feeling, almost like soft, warm butter being spread on your insides.

The caramel in your mouth thickens just a bit, sticking to your teeth. You try to work it around in your mouth, but it grows even thicker, locking your jaw in place. The warm feeling grows hot, and you hold a hand to your stomach as you start to feel nauseous.

As you move your hand, you notice that your fingers refuse to bend. You look down in surprise. The caramel on your fingers had spread, coating your whole hand and locking it in place. You start to panic as the candy creeps across your body, spreading outwards from your hand and your stomach - some had gotten lodged on your shirt, too. Your clothes are pressed against you so tightly, they almost seem to become part of you. You hunch over as you are coated in sticky caramel. For a few seconds, your whole body is locked in place. You feel a pressure against your face, like the caramel was pushing into it. Or maybe your nose was pushing out of the caramel? Your arms feel are pulled around your stomach, and they almost seem to squish outwards, wrapping around yourself.

Soon - at least, you think it was soon; caramel had coated your perception of time, as well, leaving it slow-moving and awkward - soon, the caramel begins to loosen and the hot feeling begins to subside. You stomp, trying to knock the caramel off of your feet. You try to wiggle your toes, but they are… unwieldy. You quickly see why, as the caramel breaks off, revealing two large sets of talons on the ends of two large three-toed feet.

You pry your arms away from your sides as you wobble around on your now-pointy feet, trying to keep your balance. The caramel rips away along with them, hanging down in tattered shreds. It starts to fall away, dropping to the ground and revealing brightly colored wings underneath the hanging tatters instead of pink skin. You flap them frantically and fall over backwards.

Your caramel shell shatters all across your backside, and a huge tail covered in brilliant hues unfurls behind you, spreading the length of the room. You yell in surprise, but your face is still covered in caramel. The effort tears away the candy covering your nose and mouth. A huge SQUAWK echoes out, and you fling your hands to your face. Feathered wings meet a large beak, and you let out another surprised squawk.

Dizzy, you stumble upright and totter up to your mirror, your long tail dragging across the wooden floor behind you. What you see isn’t surprising, but it is still shocking: a huge bird, feathers askew, stares back at you from the mirror. You blink; the bird, your new form, blinks back. You realize that because of your many colors, you are most likely now male, regardless of any prior truth to that fact.

Your exhaustion gone, you flap your wings experimentally and rise a few inches into the air, your amazing plumage fragmenting the light into soft, multicolored shafts that decorate your room like a disco ball. While being a bird was disorienting, it certainly was dazzling. You drop back to the floor, talons clicking on wood. You aren’t nearly as clumsy now.

I could get used to this… you think, flexing your claws. An idea forms, and you smile as best you can with your curved beak. You hop onto your windowsill and pop open the latch, wriggling out into the night air. Why not go out for a night flight? After all, it’s not like matters could get much worse, and you could always stop by the old woman’s house to see if she had a cure.

Maybe later, though. After all, you don’t become a bird every day.

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br4inr0tx · 10 months

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Heyaaa can I get a match up for Attack on Titan? <3

Ece here,21 female cancer entp.I'd prefer a guy but any gender will do :3

I'm usually a cheerful person with lots of energy, I'm quite outdoorsy but an ambivert. I'm that one person who isn't afraid of going to a cinema,concert etc alone xD I don't easily get angry,jealous etc. I'm the calmest person I know,on that matter I'm quite tolerant. Also I tend value my own independency a lot but I strongly respect other's too. On this matter I often called out to be 'cold' or 'uncaring' even though I care for my loved ones unconditionally :// I think I'm not very good at showing emotions,best I can do is to clown around to keep my loved ones happy and honestly I get uncomfortable when people get too emotional too soon in romantic relationships.

Also my love language can be anything but acts of service,they are a little rare D: I tend to go for quality time or physical touch,when I feel comfy enough -which takes some time- I straight up glue myself xD

As for hobbies I like to write,read and to cook exotic foods. I obviously watch anime quite often too D: I generally like trying different hobbies -anything- just to drop it a couple of months in. I very sadly do this when it comes to my romantic relationships too and I feel like I might be an aromantic but the idea of dating with an aot guy is quite charming xD Thank you so much already and I hope this is enough because I feel like I've revealed too much D:

I’ll keep it real; it’s been a long ass time since I’ve touched aot. I think last time I watched it genuinely was 2019. I’m trying my best with these aot requests but I might take them down temporarily, rewatch the show, then put them back up idk.

That being said, you sound like an epic person girl, keep doing you. 👍

PS, I get what you mean with relationships. It’s really hard to date people in the real word- especially when there’s perfect anime dudes who’d be willing (in ones imagination at least) to date you. I struggle with that myself, but know there will be that special person eventually. Nobodies perfect, and don’t keep your standards too high; and eventually you’ll find the one. 🖤🦇

warnings: discussion/depictions of PTSD, Anxiety, and DID.

your Attack on Titan matchup is.. Reiner Braun !!

• I think Reiner would be a good match for you.

• He enjoys your energy. Often times it gets him out of a funk he’s in. Not to mention he’d always give you a cute little pat on the head as thanks for cheering him up.

• He also appreciates the times where you can be really chill. He needs those moments of relaxation sometimes. Hell, you’ve seen what he’s been through.

• Though out of everything, he appreciates your patience. He suffers through some PTSD and DID as far as I’m concerned, so as long as you’re patient with him he’ll be patient with you.

• I believe he’d enjoy someone who’s independent, as he often does things his own way, and would rather not get an ear full from someone who’s a heckler for the rules. Much so, he lets you do your own thing as well as long as it’s not detrimental and hurts you.

• He gets remarks of being cold and uncaring as well, but really the two of you are just either really chill or focused on something that you don’t even notice you have a resting bitch face.

• He thinks it’s adorable when you try to make him feel better. He often goes through identity crisis, so to have someone bring him back down to Earth is nice.

• Quality time is a bit dicey for him, obviously because of his job. If you’re Military Police with him it might not be as much of an issue. Though physical touch happens as much as it can, as Reiner can be very possessive and handsy.

• You’re hobbies always interest him. He’s the type to go through hobbies one month to another like you, but when he sees a hobby you actually stick to he tries to encourage it more and more.

• Also, he’ll fulfill any romantic needs your heart desires, promise~.

• Your runner ups are Erin and Connie!

• Reiner will always have your back, and hopefully you’ll have his?

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reallifemutant · 2 years

Text

Eddie Munson Fic Ch. 2

Hey besties! Here's Chapter 2 which seemed extremely longer than the first part but oh well. I also have a lil author's note at the end so pls read if you liked it :)

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, talking ab school/college, graphic depictions (mainly dialogue from the show), uhm I think that's it but lmk if I missed any

Sunlight beams through the window whose curtains you obviously forgot to close last night. The events of yesterday begin to play through your foggy half-conscious mind as you think about Eddie and how he treated you. Sure, you’d had flings before none of them ever becoming more than an awkward situationship, and after a seemingly endless cycle of that, you weren’t sure if you were willing to expend effort to see what a fling with Eddie would look like. So, you push him to the back of your mind and roll over to check your alarm clock on the bedside table. The red numbers on the analog clock read 12:34 which means you had slept in - as you rightfully deserve - college hasn’t been the best for you and any inklings of peaceful rest are gratefully accepted. You didn’t have any specific plans for the day and decided to visit your two friends at work to discuss the events of last night.

You rolled out of bed and stumbled into the room’s connecting bathroom as you’re thanking the gods above for a break from the life of a communal dorm. Fumbling for the light switch you’re greeted with a view of your exhausted face, spent from the rough semester. Thankfully you had picked your spring semester classes well and mainly had final projects due in the coming weeks. Which was a nice change from the calculus and physics-loaded fall semester with seemingly endless tests. After brushing your teeth and managing your appearance you retreated to the bedroom to promptly tear through your duffle bag grasping your favorite pair of jeans. Even though it was spring you somehow always preferred to wear pants you didn’t know if it was because you absolutely detested chafing or just appreciated feeling less vulnerable. You continued rifling through the bag and grasped the rest of your outfit. It wasn’t anything spectacular but you’re just going to pester your friends at work and quite frankly the cute nerdy boy saw you in even fewer desirable clothes, so anything is better than your ‘I want to be comfy driving home’ clothes.

Lacing up your sneakers you grabbed a bomber jacket and your trusty tote bag on your way out the door. After the short drive to the Family Video, you excitedly got out of your car and entered the store yelling “Robin! Steve! Did you miss me?”

Unlike Dustin, both Robin and Steve had come to visit you at college and attend a party or two.

“Hey! I thought you weren’t coming back until later tonight?” Steve said as he briefly hugged you.

“Yeah, Steve and I had all these plans we were going to hide Sixteen Candles for you so we could watch it with you. But anyway, I’m glad you’re back.” Robin remarked as she gave you a bone-crushing hug. It had only been like three weeks since you last saw them and usually, you called them at work at least once a week. So, it wasn’t like it had been that long since you last saw them, you guessed that their weekly trials of being single were weighing down on them.

“How’s Vicki? And uh what was her name again Steve? Helen?” You asked the pair.

“I almost let Vicki know I had a crush on Tammy Thompson yesterday during the pep rally-”

“Her name was not Helen you really just do not listen to me-” Robin and Steve blurted out their answers at the same time.

“You almost what Robin? I know you like her and all but please please be careful.” You said then turned to Steve, “I am sorry Mr. Hair that you have far too many dates for me to keep up with.”

Steve opened his mouth to retort but Robin quickly beat him to speak, “I know. I just really like her and sometimes it’s hard to stop myself,” She glanced around the empty store, “I mean when you like someone it’s just hard to not say something. I mean at least for me I don’t know about you two,” She waved her hands gesturing to you and Steve,” We can talk about that later, you know not in public, anyway y/n how has your dating life been?”

“Oh, relatively boring. But uh, I went to Dustin’s little D&D club last night, right? And the DM or like the head of the club, Eddie Munson, -”

“Eddie Munson, you mean Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?” Steve scoffed and used air quotes to emphasize freak.

“Yeah, I uh don’t like the direction this is going in already. Isn’t he like a super super super senior? What do you even call someone who’s become a triple super senior-” Robin began to ramble and you quickly cut her off, “Listen I don’t know but he like grabbed my hand and fucking kissed my knuckles like you know how gentlemen approach a woman in Jane Austen books?”

Both Steve and Robin’s jaws were on the floor looking at you incredulously. You took this as a sign to continue your story.

“Anyway, he also like grabbed my chair and scooted me closer to him. Oh, and he flirted with me for the entire game which was like five hours. He also talked to Dustin and told him that he liked me and wanted to take me out. After knowing me for a solid five hours.” Once you finished your train of thought you were scrambling for air. Unknowingly, just talking about Eddie made your heart rate skyrocket and brought heat to your face in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, you like Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson,” Robin exclaimed. Her head slightly bobbed after every word to emphasize her shock.

Steve just brought one hand up to his face to rest across his eyes.

‘He truly looks like a disappointed father.’ You thought.

“Hey I mean he can’t be that bad right?” You said and almost with impeccable timing the door swings open and you’re greeted by your cousin and his friend Max.

“Did you hear the news?” Dustin stammered out between breaths moving quickly behind the counter and pushing Steve away from the computer.

“Yeah, we saw it earlier when we were putting on our morning movie why?” Robin says.

“Hey! I need that you can’t use it! what are you doing Dustin?” Steve mutters while trying to stop your cousin,

“Setting up base of operations here. I need it to look up Eddie’s friends’ phone numbers.”

“Oh, your best friend who you think is so much cooler than me because he plays your nerdy game.” Steve retorts over Dustin’s shoulder.

“Yes. I never said that.” Dustin looks back at Steve with shock and confusion written on his face.

“Hey listen you can come in here and play on Monday but it’s Saturday, our busiest day so.” Robin remarks while she begins stacking up VHS tapes.

“This can’t wait until Monday.” Dustin frustratedly exclaimed.

“Oh yeah because calling all of Eddie’s friends is an emergency,” Robin says with annoyance lacing her voice.

“It is!”

Steve comes up and stands behind Robin whispering, “What do you wanna strangle him, or should I?”

“We could take turns.” Robin looks at you with an exasperated face.

��What is going on?” you finally ask after just seeing that extremely odd conversation.

Max turns to look at You, Steve, and Robin and heaves a sigh signaling this isn’t going to be a short explanation.

“Last night I saw Chrissy Cunningham go into Eddie’s trailer, yes, the Chrissy Cunningham don’t look at me like that I know what I saw. Then like five minutes later the TV flickered and the lights did that weird thing where it looks like there was a power surge. Which isn’t out of the ordinary where we live like that happens, but I heard Eddie screaming then running out, jumping in his van, and leaving. And he looked scared. Like genuinely scared. And this morning I saw Chrissy’s body on the floor of his trailer. Dustin and I don’t think Eddie did it. We think it’s back. And the only way to know that for sure is to find Eddie”

Your stomach sank and by sank you mean fell through your ass and straight through the center of the Earth. Your greatest fears had come true, it was back and here you were in Hawkins without more than half the people you fought with last time. You looked at Max and said, “Alright let’s find Eddie and hope to God that it's not that.”

You weren’t even scared of the fact that the boy you were developing a budding crush on was the main suspect in a murder investigation. The image of Billy with the Mind Flayer’s tentacle through his chest was on your mind. The sharp teeth and smell of carrion that always followed the demogorgons that made your eyes water were on your mind. The fear that you had worked so hard to push away had a chokehold on your body and you hoped that Eddie had just murdered the girl. However awful that thought might be it was better than the alternative. After all, you had barely come out of the last fight alive if it wasn’t for Billy, you would be gone.

‘Hell, we all almost barely came out of that alive how can we possibly do this again?’ you thought to yourself.

After roughly 30 minutes to an hour of everyone calling anyone who might have a notion of Eddie’s whereabouts, Max concluded of Reefer Rick - Eddie’s supplier.

‘Oh, great so not only is he a murder suspect and a super super super senior but he’s also a drug dealer great you really do know how to pick ‘em don’t you y/n?’ You mentally berated yourself.

There weren’t many Ricks in Hawkins and Robin believed that they could probably find this guy in their system. Before you finished your thought, they had an address. Now all we had left to do was investigate. Everyone bounded out of the store and into Steve’s station wagon ready to go find Eddie and get to the bottom of this.

Dustin was pounding on the door and ringing the doorbell incessantly while the rest of you held flashlights up to the windows of the darkened house trying to catch a glimpse of Eddie. Max turned away and began walking away obviously noticing something the rest of you didn’t.

“Hey! Guys!” She yells at the four of you.

Gathering around her and following her gaze you all spot a large shed with the door open just a crack.

‘That has to be it,’ you thought, ‘he’s definitely in here.’

You all entered the dark and musty shed walking around looking for any signs of life while Steve grabs a random oar hoisting it up. He begins to gingerly poke at a boat in the center of the shed holding what appears to be tarps.

“What are you doing?” Dustin whisper-yells at Steve.

“He might be in here.”

“So, take the tarp off!”

“If you’re so brave you take the tarp off!” Steve whispers back and Dustin begins to move toward the small boat. You’re standing on the opposite side of the boat with Robin and Max as you see the redhead noticing a small pile of trash.

“Hey look at this, someone was here.” She says to Robin, “Yeah maybe he got spooked and ran” Robin shrugs her shoulders.

“Oh, don’t worry Steve will get him with his oar.” Dustin spits out.

“You know I know you think you’re being funny Henderson but considering everyone in this room has nearly died about a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the sligh-” Steve gets cut off as Eddie jumps out of the boat and shoves Steve against the wall armed with a broken beer bottle.

“WOAH WOAH WOAH EDDIE IT’S DUSTIN. IT’S ME.” Dustin panics at the sight of Eddie about to cut out Steve’s jugular.

You make eye contact with Eddie’s feral and unrelenting gaze as Dustin introduces Steve and reassures Eddie that Steve isn’t a threat. His eyes move back to Steve with an immense rage behind them.

“Steve, why don’t you drop the oar?” The oar clangs to the floor and Eddie jumps at the loud noise further driving the shard of glass into Steve’s neck making him whimper slightly.

“He’s cool man he’s cool,” Dustin repeats with his arms out like he’s approaching a scared animal,

“I’m cool- I- I’m cool” Steve stammers out.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie basically growls, his voice gravelly and weak from screaming the night before.

“We’re looking for you,” Dustin states.

“We’re here to help.” You speak out which garners Eddie’s attention away from killing Steve.

‘He looks like he’s either about to start screaming or crying,’ You think not knowing which one would be worse.

“These are my friends. This is Robin she plays in the band. This is Max, she’s my friend that never wants to play D&D. And y/n, my cousin who you met yesterday. We’re on your side. I swear on my mother. Right, guys?” Dustin slowly says and gestures at the three of you.

“Yes, yes we swear,” Max breathes out,

“On Dustin’s mother.” Robin finishes, and Steve glances up at Eddie whispering, “Yeah…Dustin…Dustin’s mother.”

Eddie suddenly pulls away releasing Steve from his grasp. He’s shaking as he turns and slides down the wall. Dustin slowly approaches him, “We just want to talk,” while you kneel down to quickly check Steve and help him off the ground.

Robin and Max inch toward Eddie while saying “We want to know what happened.”

Eddie glances away grimacing and sniffles like he’s holding back tears and bitterly spits out, “You won’t believe me.” He sniffles a little again while shaking his head which makes you want to go comfort him. Even though you know that Eddie definitely didn’t kill that girl - which confirms your deepest fears – you feel the need to hold him. After seeing the fear on his face, you know only the select group of your closest friends and family are the ones who could manage this.

‘We’re the only ones who know the truth and know how to help. This feels like we’re being forced back into war.’ You feel as you move towards the boy.

“Try us.” Max declares.

Eddie’s brows furrow, confusion growing on his face. He began to tell all of you what happened last night. You retreated into yourself and listened to the tale of the newest horrors that have emerged from the hellhole under Hawkins.

“We know it can be a little difficult to take,” Dustin calmly explains, “You know how they say Hawkins is cursed?”

Eddie glances up, “Yeah?”

“They’re not…way off,” Dustin explains trying to condense the definition of the upside-down into the easiest terms.

“Sometimes it bleeds into ours,” Eddie blinks with surprise, “You mean like ghosts and shit?”

“There are some things worse than ghosts.” Max states, “Did you see anything?”

“That night, did you see anything?” Robins steps forward.

“Dark particles, maybe?” Max continues.

Eddie’s eyes are glassy as he shakes his head not remembering anything but the horror of last night.

“It would almost look like dust, swirling dust.” Dustin clarifies for Eddie.

“No man there was nothing you could see or uh…or touch. You know I tried to wake her, man. She couldn’t move. It was like she … she was in a trance or something.” Eddie says thinking back.

“Or under a spell,” Dustin affirms.

Eddie suddenly begins to understand what Dustin’s implying, “A curse.”

“Vecna’s curse,” Dustin breathes out.

“Who’s Vecna?” Steve asks looking between the two D&D players in front of him.

“An undead creature of great power.” Dustin gulps.

“A spell caster.” Eddie finishes Dustin’s description, “A dark wizard,” Dustin clarifies.

Recognition passes through their eyes.

'This is definitely a D&D context clue that the rest of us have no idea about. But I'm sure we'll know soon enough,' you thought closing your eyes wishing to be anywhere but Hawkins, Indiana right now.

A/N: Hey guys let me know if this sucked lol anyway . . . if you catch anything that's wrong like spelling/grammar/pronouns pls pls let me know. If you want to be added to the taglist here's the google form!

Also I did write the main character as an engineering major bc I am an engineering major and idk it's hard for me to imagine life not as one. Sorry for this one being so late I started reading The Song of Achilles and I simply could not put that book down for days so yeah. Hopefully I will be posting chapter 3 like later today!

Taglist: @totallynotkaibiased @charliepoopyfart

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #stranger things

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