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wardenparker · 3 months

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 1

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: 14.4k 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* Not much for this chapter! Mostly fluff, a little flirting, and playful but on-point use of the term 'tramp stamp'. Summary: On a failed date at the local market, Marcus runs into an old friend and gets an invitation to visit. The beautiful inn and fantastic food were explicit in the invite -- but you are a complete surprise to him. Notes: Welcome, welcome, welcome my lovelies! As a girl who grew up on The West Wing and fosters an unapologetic love of all things romance, a story like this has been on my wish list to write for a very long time. I hope you're all ready for a cast of new characters and the grand appearance of Pedro's character from Graceland, because it's time for Marcus Pike to meet his soulmate! 🧡🧡🧡

There’s something about the hustle and bustle of D.C., that while it can invigorate someone and inspire them to live life as fast as possible, it can also drain them. At least, that’s what Marcus Pike has learned from the last three years of therapy. That and he’s prone to rushing into relationships, being in love with love, as Dr. Barnes would caution him.

It seems sometimes as if he’s unlucky in love, despite the universe providing a perfect match for him, he’s never found her. Always looking, but also being open to loving someone who doesn’t share marks or scars. Someone who just wants a stable and steady man to worship them and give them the world.

He hasn’t dated in almost three years. His therapist had advised him to focus on himself. To work through his emotions of a failed college marriage, a failed engagement. To make himself happy with who he is before introducing another person into the mix. He had thought that’s what he was doing, but apparently he had been wrong.

Finally feeling ready to date again, he had dipped his toes back in the water. Only to have it backfire tremendously. So much so, that he finds himself walking around the Eastern Market on his own. His idea of a farmer’s market casual date obviously not a good one, according to the woman who had tossed the drink he had bought her on the trash and stomped off, abandoning him to feel like a fool.

Smiling faces beam back at him from the covers of glossy gossip magazines, flashing headlines critiquing fashions worn to the recent inauguration ceremony and parties. The new president and her family wave from above the fold of newspapers — the happy family that Marcus himself doesn’t have. Ignoring the rude reminder, he wanders through the stalls and vendors of Eastern Market aimlessly until he reaches the family-owned sweet shop that he’s been coming to for years now. They know him, and like him, and his sweet tooth knows no bounds. There’s another man at the counter just before Marcus so he stands back, but Jenny waves hello from behind the counter. “Morning Marcus! Gimme one second and I’ll be right with you.” She says, turning back to the order marked Juan in her big, looping handwriting. “Six cannoli, right? Two pistachio, two double chocolate, and two cherry chocolate?”

“Right.” The man in a corduroy jacket with his short hair trimmed neatly nods. “Thanks, Jen. The girls are going to be over the moon.”

Another reminder of a life he craves. Marcus frowns slightly and tries to remember what his therapist has told him. Everyone moves at their own pace. Just because he’s not juggling two kids, a dog and a lovely wife with his workload doesn’t mean he’s failing. It just means he’s not met the right person, soulmate or not.

The other man pays for his order and turns to leave but stops dead in the middle of a cordial nod when he sees Marcus standing a few feet away. Sure he had heard Jenny say hi to someone…but he hadn’t looked. Now though? He huffs a laugh at the ghost of his past. “Pike?” They’d been mistaken as brothers — or for each other — so many times back at the Academy that it would be impossible not to recognize Marcus Pike.

“Badillo?” It’s amazing to see the other agent, although he had heard that he had left the Bureau after a friendly fire shooting. He looks good though, and Marcus cracks into the first real grin of the morning since being left high and dry. “What the hell? How are you doing, man?” He asks, coming in for a friendly hug while being mindful of the box in Juan’s hand.

“Good! Good. Errands.” Juan huffs, returning Marcus’s hug with equal surprise and affection. The men had been quite good friends at one time, more than a few years ago now. “Pregnant wife gets whatever pregnant wife wants, ya know?” He grins, bright and shining. “When did you get back to DC?”

“Pregnant wife, huh?” Despite the knife to his heart, Marcus paints on a grin, happy for his old friend. “Three years ago.” He shrugs slightly. “Heading up Art Crimes now. How about you? I heard you got out.” He lifts his eyebrows, allowing Juan to talk if he wants or brush it off if he doesn’t.

“I did.” Juan nods, knowing that various stories circulated after he left the Bureau. Most of them false. “Decided to take a little road trip vacation to clear my head and ended up meeting my soulmate in Yosemite on day two of the whole thing, and I followed her East.” He shrugs, ever the unapologetic romantic just like Marcus. They had had that in common. “How’s Lara?” He asks, remembering the woman that had been Mrs. Pike during their Academy days. Marcus had been over the moon for her. “Is she liking being back?”

Marcus grimaces a little and shrugs. “She’s, uh, we got divorced about ten years ago.” He tells him. “She found out she did have a soulmate.”

“Ah shit.” Blowing out a breath and shuffling his feet, Juan rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “I’m sorry, man. That’s—there’s just no easy way to get through something like that.”

“It’s okay.” Marcus had loved Lara, but he wasn’t going to stand in the way of soulmates. It wouldn’t be right. “It was actually a very easy divorce; she hated hurting me. More than I can say for the last date, or last fiancée I’ve had.”

“Shit.” Juan huffs again, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s eleven in the morning but I feel like I ought to be buying you a drink, man.” Hearing that someone as genuinely good as Marcus Pike is has had his heart bashed so often is a fucking bummer, and Juan chews on his lip for a second before his head tilts in that Universal signal of natural curiosity. “I’ve got time today. If you want to hang out? Catch up?” He offers, knowing that drinks will most likely come later if the two old friends spend the day getting back on the same page.

Marcus chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Do I look that dejected?” He asks, even though he’s not really looking for an answer. “I was supposed to be on a date, I figured a farmer’s market/brunch date would be easy enough and yet thoughtful, but I was ditched.” He snorts. “I have zero luck it seems.” He nods his head towards the cannoli. “But you can’t leave your pregnant wife waiting on those.”

“No, I can’t.” Sydney is waiting back at the restaurant with bated breath, he knows that, but he does offer Marcus a smile. “But she does run a restaurant, so you don’t have to be brunch-less unless you choose to be.”

“Yeah?” He perks up at the idea of trying out a new place, always loving brunch foods. “Where at? I might have to take a spin over there.”

“Her place is called Il Corvo.” It takes a second, but Juan digs a business card for the restaurant out of his jacket pocket and hands it over. “It’s the in-house restaurant at The Inn at Jones Point in Alexandria.” He reports proudly, always ready to brag about his soulmate’s amazing success. Running a restaurant is no small feat. “I know the card says the dining room opens at 4pm, but ignore that. She does brunch for guests at the inn and for special guests from time to time.”

“Are you sure?” Marcus frowns slightly. “I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s not imposing, trust me.” Knowing his wife as well as he does, Juan is more than certain she’ll be doting on Marcus in no time. “As long as you’re on board for Italian food, come by any time you want.”

“I’m out on the bike.” Marcus tells Juan, remembering how the other agent also loved to ride motorcycles. “I might swing by sometime. Normally go for rides on the weekend.”

"Anytime you want," Juan repeats, and he hopes Marcus understands how entirely he means it. "It's good to see you again, man."

“Good to see you too.” Marcus means that, smiling at the former agent. “Nice to see that you are okay.”

The two men part with a smile and a nod, and Juan hustles away to get his precious cargo back out to his soulmate. Maybe he'll pitch the idea of inviting Marcus to their next board game night if Sydney and her best friend don't mind the extra company. Not that they ever mind extra company.

Marcus doesn’t mean for it to be two weeks from the chance encounter with Juan before he steers his bike down the country, winding roads towards this inn that he had been told about. He had a case that required him to travel. Then it was reports and the never ending budget fiascos that new presidencies always bring, his boss wanting a new projections for the fiscal year for some reason.

Now though, he’s enjoying the scenery as the wind blows over his face and he leans into the curve, enjoying the small thrill that races up his spine from the inherent danger.

The winter has been mild so far and all the snow left behind by the storm the area had gotten while he was traveling has melted, making the ride an easy and calming one. He had intentionally driven a long route around Alexandria and the surrounding area, letting him arrive at his destination a little after noon on that cold, sunny Sunday. The inn is a large brick farmhouse, probably originally colonial but it looks like it was redone sometime during the Federalist architecture craze of the early 1800s. Now its clean white painted window frames and front porch are as welcoming as the pristinely kept front garden. The Inn at Jones Point proclaims a sign out front, which is accompanied by a smaller complimentary sign with an impressionist painted black bird that reads Il Corvo in an artistic script. There are cars in the lot with a plethora of states listed on their license plates, another motorcycle that he has to assume is Juan's, and a very government-issued-looking black car parked close to the building.

Marcus is enough of a romantic to fully appreciate the appeal of the property and more importantly, grounded enough to be able to appreciate it without having a partner here to enjoy it with. Since working with his therapist, he's spent a lot of the last three years 'dating himself'. Instead of waiting to make a date to try out a new restaurant, he goes by himself. Not limiting himself to new experiences with partners, he has found that he enjoys the hunt for the perfect spots to eat. The little Indian restaurant he had found is an absolute gem and he is looking forward to discovering a new little brunch spot. If this place is half as good as Juan says, he might make it a monthly habit while he can spend some time with his old friend.

Inside, the lobby of the inn is bustling. Guests sit in plush chairs with travel brochures or excitedly type on their phones. A family is gathered around a display of pamphlets for different travel experiences and tourist attraction. Another guest is hovering around the front desk, seemingly waiting for someone to return.

From the rooms off to the left, wave after wave of stunning smells wafts past Marcus as he looks around. A set of French doors stands open but the hostess stand for Il Corvo stands empty while a small number of diners sit inside, happily chattering over their meals. The scent of fresh coffee permeates everything else just a second before he can see why, as a woman in a blue silk shirt comes around the corner with two travel cups — presumably full of coffee — for the guest standing at the desk.

“Here we are, Mrs. Richards. Thank you for your patience, the pot was just finishing brewing. These will keep you nice and warm while you walk around Old Town.” Smiling as the woman walks away, your eyes survey the room and land on the new arrival with a touch of confusion. “Good afternoon,” you greet, in your typical sunshiny tone. This man isn’t a guest and you genuinely almost thought it was Juan for a second — even though you just saw Juan in the restaurant. “How can I help you today?”

“Hi— uh, I—” Marcus realizes he knows you. Your mother’s picture hangs on his office wall next to the current FBI director’s, and furthermore, it’s hard to not see the darling First Daughter in some news story – although it doesn’t seem like you enjoy the press. “Yeah, sorry, Juan said that brunch is served here?” He asks with an apologetic smile. “I’m Marcus, uh, Pike. We were in the Academy together and I ran into him a few weeks ago.”

You’re prettier than he ever imagined the pictures and news reels, your voice curling into his stomach pleasantly. In true, Marcus Pike fashion. He finds himself instantly intrigued by you.

“Oh, you’re Marcus!” As bright and cheery as you sound, something flips in your stomach and clenches at your chest and you swallow down the oh god he’s really hot impulse that you haven’t felt in…well, in years. This guy looks like someone took Juan and gave him broader shoulders and better hair, and put a little bit more James Dean in his style. “It’s really nice to meet you.” You introduce yourself, probably unnecessarily, but it’s good manners and keeps you from getting nervous or going off track. “Come on this way. Juan said you might be stopping by but he wasn’t sure when.”

“I’m sorry, should I have called first?” He asks, feeling guilty and slightly in the way. The last thing that he wants is to cause an imposition.

“Not at all.” You slip out from behind your desk and wave for him to follow you. “He’s been excited to introduce you to everybody.” The inn is a decent size, with the ground floor being public spaces and all the rooms upstairs being ready-made for guests except for the attic apartment, and you quickly lead the way through the rooms toward the restaurant kitchen.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve caught up.” Marcus admits. “We were close in the academy, most people through we were twins to be honest.” He chuckles slightly.

“I almost thought you were him when I saw you,” you admit, glad to know you aren’t alone in it. Juan had said they look alike but it really is extreme. “Here we are.” Humming as you push open the door to the restaurant’s bar, you huff a soft laugh when a woman slightly taller than you with masses of curls in a tight bun at the nape of her neck in a black suit sidesteps the pair of you and opens the kitchen door to look inside before letting you in. “Thank you, Agent Bailey.” As odd as it is to have constant supervision like this, you’re doing your best to be patient and understanding with it. “Come on into the kitchen,” you offer to Marcus. “Brunch is almost over and this is where Juan sits when he hangs out.”

“Really? The inner sanctum already?” The tone is joking, but Marcus knows that for a lot of chefs, the kitchen is their sacred place. He wouldn’t know, because his kitchen is used to make coffee, but he’s had a few relationships with amateur gourmet cooks.

“Marcus!” There’s no question that this is where he’s supposed to be, when Juan is waving from a corner of the kitchen and immediately zips over to say hello. “How are you, man? Good to see you!”

“Hey.” He grins when he sees the other man, obviously happier here than any time in the Bureau and he’s happy for him. He seems like a completely different man, just from the quick glance. Perhaps it’s the fact that he found his soulmate. “Sorry it’s been a few weeks. Got caught up on a case.”

“I completely get it,” he assures his friend. “It’s been kind of crazy around here anyway. Weddings booked every single weekend and the restaurant stuffed full with reservations.” He beams, proud as a peacock, and waves slightly as you disappear back out through the bar to return to your counter. The inn is full up with last night’s wedding party and you have your hands full. “I want you to meet my wife,” Juan says, clapping Marcus in the shoulder and pulling him further into the kitchen.

There are only two people cooking right now and they are both winding down. Enough that the petite woman with tied-up hair and a look of intense concentration on her face can look up and smile. “I hear you talking about me,” she warns with a laugh.

“Syd, this is Marcus Pike.” Juan introduces, bringing his friend out in front of him. “Marcus, this is Sydney. The gorgeous goddess the universe decided to grace me with.”

“Nice to meet you.” Again that pesky pang of longing lurches inside Marcus but he throws her a smile and takes her hand after she offers it immediately. “I’ve only heard angelic things about you, so rest assured, he’s not talking ill.”

“He’s does nothing but tell stories about you since you guys ran into each other at Eastern Market.” Sydney tells him honestly. “Can I make you something to eat?”

“I was hoping to experience the brunch option that Juan was bragging about.” Marcus admits as he glances around, admiring the state of the art kitchen. “Didn’t expect to see this from the historical facade.” He admits. “It’s charming though.” He adds, hoping that neither one of you take offense.

"Charming is her specialty." Sydney points her thumb in the direction of the door, indicating the main lobby of the inn. "We took over running this place about three years ago now. The previous owners weren't able to keep up anymore so they sold to her and we updated the restaurant. Modern Italian dinners and brunch for the inn's guests. It's a big step up from the B&B that this place used to be." Grinning proudly, Sydney moves over to the nearest counter and plops a paper menu down at the stool beside her husband. "What would you like?"

Marcus looks at the menu and lifts a brow, impressed by the sophisticated menu. This isn’t some little spaghetti shop that pretends to be Italian. “It’s been so long since I’ve had good Uova in Purgatorio.” He moans. “Since the last time I was in Naples.” He clicks his tongue. “But I want to try the ricotta pancakes too.”

"Then you will get both," Sydney insists, clicking her tongue and getting to work. "A G-man in Naples, huh?" She barely glances up from her work as she moves. "Art crimes must be the fancy branch of the Bureau."

“I work on international cases with Interpol and Scotland Yard.” He explains as he sits down and admires the fluidity of her movements in the kitchen. She’s completely at home in her space and it’s evident she’s in command. He’s slightly envious of her comfort in a kitchen, if he’s honest.

"Oh, so it definitely is the fancy branch." She laughs. Juan hops up from his seat to grab coffee for himself and Marcus, brushing a kiss on her cheek as he moves past, and the other woman who had been cooking moves away to the other end of the room to work on cleaning up from the brunch rush.

"Fancy branch of what?" The kitchen door swings open again and you come strolling back inside looking infinitely more tired than you had just a few minutes ago but still in a generally good mood. "The wedding party is finally gone. I am officially taking my break."

Marcus stares at you for a moment and then looks down at his hands, feeling like he might be bragging if he were to tell you what they’ve been talking about. There’s something about you that is knocking him off kilter, he’s normally a little more confident than this.

"Art crimes is swanky, apparently." Sydney tells you, never stopping or slowing as she moves around like a controlled whirlwind. "Eggs in purgatory and ricotta pancakes for your brunch? I'll make up a big batch." They're two of your favourite things anyway and it's easy enough to just make a double serving of each when she knows that your break time is always mealtime.

"That sounds incredible," you moan in agreement, making a beeline for the industrial refrigerator in the corner of the room to make yourself an iced latte that is far more espresso than milk. A generous swirl of flavored syrup joins your cup before you plop down on the edge of the counter and sip your drink with a happy sigh. Normally people exclaim over you when they realize they recognize you but Marcus Pike hasn't said a word — and you wonder if he doesn't recognize you from the papers or if you even care. It's nice to not have someone make a fuss for once. To just be nice and not suck up to you for being the President's oldest child.

“Weddings take it out of you, huh?” Marcus asks, smirking a little at the drink in your hand, although it looks delicious. “Or were they just demanding?”

"It was a big party. Very specific needs." Sipping your drink and finally sitting is immediately relaxing, and you're always ready to meet new people. Especially when they're someone that your best friend's husband speaks of so highly. "Nothing I can't handle, but weddings are always tricky. It's the most important day of at least one person's life, so you always want to try to make it as perfect for them as you can. Thankfully," you gesture around you. "I have an incredible team. Syd is the best Italian chef in the Chesapeake Bay and Juanito is an incredible event coordinator."

Marcus snorts and cuts his eyes over at Badillo. “He always did have an eye for details.” He admits, snickering at the nickname you’ve bestowed on the former federal agent. “Although it’s surprising that it’s manifested in wedding planning.” He teases playfully.

"Event planning," Juan clarifies, but he's grinning regardless. "We host a lot here. Weddings, anniversaries, holiday parties, all kinds of personal events. I get to put my organizational mind to work on it. It's actually pretty rewarding."

"Don't let him sell himself short. Juan plans a hell of a wedding." There is pride on your face, pride for your friend and in your work "We've gotten written up in a bunch of bridal magazines and on websites the last few years."

“Good job, Juanito.” If there’s anything that Marcus enjoyed more than the courses in the academy, it was busting his friend’s balls. All in good fun of course, he had taken his share of ribbing as well. It was par for the course. “That sounds like a hell of a job, making people happy and sharing in their special moments.”

"We do our best." Juan will never take the credit for himself, always attributing the effort to the team as a whole. This time, though, he flashes a knowing grin at you. "Although the next one we plan might be a hell of a lot bigger than what we do here."

“Oh?” Marcus asks, turning towards you. “Are you getting married soon?” His eyes drop discreetly to your hand and he tries to remember what he’s read about you but for some reason, he’s drawing a blank.

“No, Juan just likes to tease.” You shake it off with a roll of your eyes, knowing that — unfortunately — your friend is completely right. If or when it does happen, it will be a damn circus. “It’s this…guy that I met last year, and it’s been really good and he really took all the stress of the last year in stride, and these two love to tease.” In truth, you’ve been intentionally moving forward slowly with the junior Congressman from Maryland that you met at a campaign event you attended with your mother last year. Sam is a good guy and has big ideas for the future. It’s just that you normally dive into relationships so fast and so deep that your heart does all the talking before your mind can catch up. And now that you’re a public figure, you can’t afford to have that happen again. “I’m perfectly content to watch other people have their big days for now.”

“I can imagine that it’s hard to have a relationship right now.” He sympathizes. “The press either treats you like a darling celebrity or some kind of public spectacle, right?” He asks, curious as to your view on the entire thing. Personally, he hated the idea of politics taking on a celebrity flare and you aren’t on politics, your mother is.

“I’m honestly lucky that my younger siblings take some of the focus,” you admit. So he did recognize you. It’s nice that he didn’t fuss. You’re grateful for that. “My brother is in law school and my sister is in undergrad and they’re both living in the White House while they study but…yeah. We all agreed to give up our privacy for a while so Mom can do some good work. That means relationships aren’t easy right now.”

“It’s good you had a choice.” Marcus admits. “Sometimes I watch the campaigns for some of the politicians and it’s obvious the family would rather be anywhere else and are putting on a facade.” He shrugs, not wanting to delve too deep into a subject you probably are uncomfortable with. “Nice that you don’t have too much interference here, except for the Secret Service agent.”

"Agent Bailey's okay." In fact, she's sitting outside the kitchen door right now, giving you a bit of space and privacy to try to pretend you still have a halfway normal life. "We're still getting used to each other. I had somebody else during the campaign, but she's been assigned to my sister now. It all works out in the end." Smiling, you take another sip of your coffee and wonder why your stomach is fluttering over this very kind man who has been introduced into your lives very much by chance. It's...unsettling. To say the very least. "But that's plenty about me. How about you, Special Agent Marcus Pike? Where're you from? How are you liking Art Crimes?" You grin, throwing him a mischievous expression. "Who'd you vote for, for president?"

Marcus laughs, a real laugh that comes from his belly and he relaxes. “Let’s see…I’m from the great state of Texas - Go Rangers.” He ticks off. “I love Art Crimes, especially when we can recover sentimental pieces and keep “collectors”,” he uses air quotes, “from locking away art from being enjoyed by all.” He grins at your last question. “And my momma told me never to discuss politics or religion in social settings….but….my candidate is currently hanging on my office wall.”

"Rangers, huh?" Glossing over the not insignificant tidbit that he did, in fact, vote for your mother, you find yourself thoroughly enjoying getting to know this friend of your friend. It's usually not this easy to click with a new acquaintance, although you've become an expert at seeming interested just to be polite. That doesn't seem to be necessary at all with this man. "When we get our Phillies/Rangers series this year we'll have to come up with a bet of some kind."

“It’s gonna be a losing bet on your end.” Marcus predicts. “We’ve got Darío Álvarez and then Elvis Andrus is going to continue stealing bases.”

"Oh thank god," Sydney huffs, flipping ricotta pancakes on her griddle top and grinning as she throws you a wink. "She's finally got someone else to drag to baseball games. I'm free!"

"My alleged best friend," you smirk and decide to tease her back. "And her husband are both hockey people. So I'm generally either stuck watching the game on my own or dragging Syd along with promises of beer and ballpark dogs."

“Nationals aren’t my favorite team. Since they are National League.” Marcus smirks. “But I have season tickets since it’s too expensive to fly back to Texas for every game.”

It would be bragging to admit that you've been asked to throw the first ball out at the Nationals opening game this season as the most vocally baseball-loving member of the new First Family, so you just smile. You know it can feel like a big sacrifice to leave something about home behind. "Maybe I'll see you there," you offer instead. "The Nationals aren't my team either, but the game are pretty fun."

“Oh they always are.” He admits wholeheartedly. “Plus the Navy Yard is close so it’s always interesting.”

"Heeeeere we go." Onto the counter in front of you, Sydney heaps four plates of food – making each of you identical breakfasts. "The fruit compote for the pancakes right now is cranberry lemon. And I threw a little extra chili into the sauce for the eggs." She grins. "Some folks who stay at the inn say it's too spicy but it's how we like it," she tells Marcus.

Marcus chuckles and Juan snorts, hooking his fingers towards the agent. “This man ate his way through a five alarm chili contest and didn’t even touch his beer.” He boasts to the two of you. “If it’s not spicy, I don’t want it.” Marcus confirms with a grin. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”

"Then next time you're getting Calabrian chili instead of just the wimpy flakes." Sydney promises with glee. "That's how our girl likes it, but that's too much even for me most of the time. I have to be in the mood for it."

“You like spicy?” He asks, smirking towards you. “How do you feel about the Indian food around here?”

"There's a place in DuPont Circle that is probably the best Indian food I've ever had in my entire life." Even as you're getting ready to dig into your best friend's comfort Italian fare, your mouth starts watering thinking of curries and dal. "The kind of place where they don't make it really spicy until you've been there a couple of times and they know you can handle it. I swear I've eaten there more than I've cooked my own food since moving out here."

“Rasika’s?” Marcus groans, nodding. “I love that place. They make the best curry I’ve ever eaten in my life. I’m sweating, but I never tell them to bring me the yogurt sauce.”

"If you don't sweat while you're eating there, you're doing it wrong." It's a slight point of contention with Sam, who generally considers mustard to be too spicy most of the time, but you ignore the side eye you're getting from Sydney and dig in to your brunch. Having come in early today, this is halfway through your shift and you're going to be excited to head upstairs to your little attic caretaker's apartment when the time comes this afternoon. "Mmmmm," you groan happily and do a little wiggle in your seat unconsciously. "Syd, I swear. If you hadn't already married Juan, I'd marry you for your brunch."

Marcus takes that as the best kind of advertisement and cuts into his own meal to fork up a bite of the eggs. “Christ.” He groans as soon as the flavors hit his mouth. “That’s amazing.”

"I told you," Juan boasts, sitting up in his seat a little taller with pride for his soulmate. "She's amazing."

“You weren’t kidding.” Marcus huffs, taking another bite. “If this got out, you could run on brunch alone.”

"We're considering offering an incentive package for events." Starting to clean up, Syd watches the two of you eat while she wraps the kitchen up from brunch to get everything prepared for dinner service. "Wedding brunches are coming back in fashion, but a lot of people are wanting to do morning after brunches for their families before everyone goes their separate ways."

“I can see that.” Marcus nods. “Lara and I had a lunch thing before we all said goodbye, but that was casual.”

"Your wife?" You guess, struggling to remember if Juan had mentioned that his friend was married. He's not wearing a ring, but some men don't — a habit that generally rubs you the wrong way because those men are always the ones who basically want their wives to walk around wearing a giant 'I'm married' sign but will never show any outward signs of commitment themselves.

Marcus gives a small shrug and smiles self-consciously. “Ex-wife.” He admits, knowing that soon enough the pitying looks will start. “We divorced a while ago.”

Sydney clicks her tongue, having remembered that fact, and says nothing more. You, though? For some reason you can't help yourself. Something about Marcus Pike compels you to offer comfort in whatever way you can. "If you ever find another Mrs. Pike, you let us know. We've got you covered."

Marcus chuckles. “So far, that search has been in vain.” He admits. “Apparently it’s not in the cards for me.”

"She's out there." Juan offers with confidence. "If I remember correctly, you've even got a couple of tattoos to prove it."

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I do.” He snorts. “If I ever find her, I want to know why there is a hummingbird tramp stamp on my lower back.” He laughs. “I get why, but why???? Why a hummingbird?”

A glare of questioning moves soundlessly between you and your best friend — the perpetually meddling woman who sat next to you when you were eighteen and challenged you to answer trivia questions while you had your own hummingbird tramp stamp inked onto your skin in celebration of your high school graduation. "Oh yeah?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at you while you furious try to communicate with nothing more than wide eyes that you do not want her to ask what she's about to ask. "What kind of hummingbird? How trashy are we talking?"

“It’s not exactly trashy.” Marcus defends. “It’s actually a pretty blue and green.“

"Interesting." Sydney hums, practically giggling with glee as she cleans up the kitchen and you bury your face in your meal like it will help you escape the entire conversation. "Maybe hummingbirds are her favourite bird?"

I'm going to kill you in your sleep says the glare you send your best friend's way.

“Totally trashed my punk rock image.” He laughs. “Although I didn’t think of that at the time. Thinking I’m this hardcore next Kurt Cobain rocker and I’ve got a hummingbird tattoo on my lower back.” He snorts, shrugging slightly. “But it’s always been a question I’ve wanted to ask. What made her choose that? What’s special about it to her?”

"Hummingbirds symbolize love and devotion," you murmur next to him, not quite looking up and wondering if the world is really turning on its ear right now or if it's just that you've been thrown off kilter by the possibilities. It's not like you're the only girl in the world with a hummingbird tattoo, after all. Far from it. "And they're supposed to be good luck."

“I like that.” Marcus hums softly. “It’s wistful, hopeful.” There could be a thousand different reasons why his soulmate chose that symbol to etch on her body and in turn, his, but he would rather it be a loving sign. You aren’t looking at him, and miss the small smile he throws you. “Poetic.”

"So she's gotta be out there somewhere." Sydney needles the point a little bit, sounding breezy as hell but just about ready to pounce on any clues Marcus offers up. "Maybe a hopeless romantic with a stubborn streak and an encyclopedic knowledge of Lost Generation authors and impressionist painters?" She shrugs like she's just pulled the example out of thin air. "Who knows?"

Throwing Juan a look, Marcus smirks. “Sounds like your husband has been talking about favorite kind of woman.” He jokes, although he’s pretty sure that he would love it if his soulmate turned out to be just that. “I just want to have someone that wants to be build a lift together. A partner.” He shrugs. “Most people think that it’s crazy, but I think that your significant other should be your best friend and your lover.”

"Absolutely crazy." With as clearly sarcastic a tone as she can possibly muster, Sydney practically deadpans in Marcus's direction. "So weird. How dare you want to spend your life with someone you loves you as much as you love them?" Every single thing she's described has been about you, and while neither of the guys are picking up on that for even a single second, the fact that you have your head down over your plate means you're reading her loud and clear. "I bet your dream girl will even have a thing for your old rockstar days," she goes on, as if she's stringing out a hypothetical and not explicitly describing your opinion that musicians are sexy as hell. "Don't tell me. You were a bassist, right?"

“And vocals.” He admits, shaking his head ruefully. “It’s alright if she doesn’t like that. God, it’s been years since I’ve picked up my bass.” He realizes. “I should do that. Between the bass or the motorcycle, I just spent more time on the bike.”

Bass. Vocals. And motorcycle? You practically groan out loud but barely manage to swallow the sound and instead hop up from your seat immediately to hopefully combine the noise you just made with all manner of other commotion. "Just grabbing another drink," you explain, when all three of their heads turn toward you at once. "You, uh...you should do what makes you happy, Marcus. If that's not overstepping things for me to say. We just met today. But I've always heard that the best things in life tend to fall into your lap when you're not looking for them. So maybe just...enjoy yourself? And who knows what can happen."

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” Marcus admits. “My therapist agrees with you. That we need to enjoy ourselves and not just search.”

"Our therapists agree with each other, then," you admit with a chuckle. "I started seeing someone when Mom decided to run for president. I figured it would be good to have someone to check in with and make sure I was handling my stressors in a healthy way." The conversations you had had with them about whether or not to factor your soulmate into future plans when you had never met them were slightly less straightforward.

“That’s always a good thing.” He nods quickly. “I’ve never been one to think that therapists are a waste of time.” He shrugs. “My mom was a therapist all my childhood.”

"It's an incredibly important profession. And an incredibly important resource to have." Seeing as Marcus's mug was empty as well, you bring back two glasses of water to the counter and sit down again, hoping that Sydney won't keep pushing. Or at least that she won't reveal things if she does. "My little sister is a psychology major. She's thinking about medical school next, and talking about different paths she might taken with her studies. Therapist being one of them."

“It’s a good profession.” Marcus admits easily. “Just- let her know, most therapists have their own therapists they see. It’s draining to take on everyone’s secrets and burdens, trying to do the best you can to give them the tools to help themselves. So tell her that there’s no shame in that.”

"I will." It isn't worth negating the kindness of Marcus's thoughts and advice by telling him that all three of the First Kids started therapy at the start of the campaign. It's the care he has for other people — people he has never met and may never meet ever in his life, that touches you so very deeply. "Thank you, Marcus. That's very kind of you."

He nods and picks up the glass of water, needing to wash down the remnants of the eggs before starting on the pancakes. “So, Juan, how did you and your lovely wife discover you were soulmates?” He asks curiously.

"Uhm..." Juan chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck and looking to Sydney for her permission to tell the story.

"Go ahead," she laughs. "I've go to start dinner prep. Tell him as much as you want."

"It's not exactly PG," he admits, still laughing softly to himself. "The polite version is that we compared tattoos."

Marcus isn’t the head of his department because he’s dimwitted. “One night stand?” He asks, lifting his brows in surprise. It wasn’t like he had never had them himself, but both men had preferred to be in relationships rather than sleep around. Not that he’s judging.

“I was willing to take whatever that goddess was willing to give me,” Juan admits without shame. “One night would have been a memory to cherish. But the universe said it should be a lifetime, instead.”

“I’m happy for you.” Marcus promises with a slap on the back for his old friend. “You deserve it. Glad you found her.”

“You say that now.” His friend smiles happily though, beaming at the commendation. “But now it’s going to be my mission to find you that girl with the hummingbird tattoo.”

Marcus smiles, a little sadly, but he just shrugs. “I’ll find her when I’m supposed to.” He reasons. “Knowing my luck, she’s happily married.”

“Not as happily as she would be with you.” He’s confident in that, and Juan looks to you to bolster his encouragements. “How could anybody not be ecstatic to have a guy this good, right?”

It feels rude. Like a trick from the universe that you do not like one bit. Like the powers that be are rubbing your nose in your defiance of their plans. “They’d have to be blind.” You offer, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Sam is a good guy. He’s been a good boyfriend and has made you happy. Why are you suddenly thinking about someone else after an hour of knowing them? That’s utterly ridiculous. “You…never really know how the universe is going to have things work out.”

She’s just being polite. Marcus realizes that when he sees your smile, his stomach churning unhappily. It doesn’t matter, you’re seeing someone. A woman in a relationship has always been off limits to him. He doesn’t like, nor respect cheaters and yet he’s upset that you don’t seem that attracted to him. Or, you’re reluctantly attracted to him. He stares down at his pancakes and sighs. “All that matters to me if that my soulmate is happy.” He decides.

Juan and Marcus talk about this and that for the next few minutes, but you quickly finish your pancakes and excuse yourself. It was very nice to meet Marcus, and you tell him so, but you’re a little rattled by the possibility that was just laid out in front of you and you need a few deep breaths of fresh air before your break is over and you have to go back to solving guest’s dilemmas.

Juan doesn’t miss the way Marcus’s eyes follow you out of the room and he smirks. “Thinkin’ about it?” He asks, knowing you are the other man’s type.

“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “I mean, I would if she were single, but she’s not.” Deciding to change the subject, he leans in. “Did they heighten security here, or just the one agent?”

“Updated cameras and increased security personnel. We turned the spare office into a surveillance room but her Secret Service detail doesn’t butt in on anything they don’t need to.” Juan shrugs, knowing that things always change over time. “So far.”

That’s good and Marcus nods. “Sounds like you might have had some input.” He knows that Juan is very analytical, he would know what the weakness were in a place like this.

Juan snorts, taking a sip of his drink and shrugging vaguely. "My wife's childhood best friend is the First Daughter of the United States. If I can help her be safe, I'm going to."

“I can certainly understand that.” Marcus admits.

"It's a good system." Juan acknowledges. "She always has a detail agent nearby and the place needs the security because we've gotten a hell of a lot busier since the campaign last year."

“I’m sure.” Marcus snorts. “Everyone wants to claim they have some insider pull.” He says, a little cynical, but he looks around. “And I’m sure a lot of it is the fact that this place is a little gem.”

"272-year-old farmhouse with restored gardens and a barn and a gazebo from 1823. The place has had so many owners and been used for so many things." It's clear that Juan has nothing but affection for the place, and that he really has leaned into a fully civilian life. "I'm glad you came out to say hi," he tells Marcus honestly. "Hopefully we'll see more of you around here."

“With food like this?” Marcus groans, throwing his buddy a grin. “Those are the best damn pancakes that I’ve eaten in forever.”

"And considering you're a certified pancake expert, that says something." Juan chuckles. When Marcus hadn't shown up for a few weeks he was afraid that maybe he had said something wrong or that his old friend had moved on from the comradery they used to have, Apparently, neither was the case.

“Still love pancakes. It’s finding the time to eat them, that’s the problem.” He snorts. “It’s getting better now that I run the department, but after I ran into you? I was flying out two days later.”

"Sounds like you earned a day to relax." Sounds like he earned a lot more than just one day, but Juan knows how the Bureau works. A single day can sometimes be a miracle to come by. "There's books and board games in the library if you want to stay and spend some time relaxing."

“What do you have going on?” Marcus asks, tilting his head curiously.

“It’s…board game night.” As silly and domestic as it sounds, it’s a nice tradition that they’ve managed to keep going among friends. “Every month we have a group of friends over and we do a potluck for dinner. Just to unwind and be social. Just catch up, eat some good food, and play board games. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“I don’t want to impose.” Marcus shakes his head, wondering if he’s so desperate that it sounds like great evening or if it just really was.

“It’s not imposing,” Juan assured him. “We bring new friends all the time. There’s about six of us usually, so it fluctuates depending on how many other people we bring or if someone can’t make it.”

“Well, is there a store or something?” He asks. “I can pick up some wine or something to contribute.”

“Old Town has some good liquor stores.” The historic district of Alexandria has become increasingly popular in the last several years, and the revitalization of the neighborhood has helped the inn as well.

“Anything else you could possibly want?” Marcus asks seriously. He’s willing to go get anything that could be thought of, the prospect of not spending the night alone incredibly cheering.

“Get whatever you want,” Juan encourages. “Every once in a while someone will show up with something they’ve never tried just try to it together. So really — anything you want.”

“Okay.” Marcus grins, excited about this and reaches out to slap Juan on the back. “Do you still ride bikes or have you given that up?”

"Hell no." Juan tuts, glad to see the smile back on Marcus's face. "My Indian is back at our house. We take rides when we've got time off together."

“That’s good. Although the rides have taken a pause since the pregnancy, right?” Marcus asks. “I can’t imagine a doctor signing off on a pregnant woman on the back of a bike.”

“Yeah…these days we take rides in the station wagon.” He chuckles at that, and Juan knows how ridiculously domestic it sounds but he really doesn’t care. He’s in love with his life in a very unexpected way, and that’s okay. “It’ll be nice to have someone to ride with again.”

“I can imagine.” Marcus is missing that, but on the bright side, he rides when and where he wants. “Do you guys know what you’re having yet?” He asks.

“Not yet.” Juan is excited, though, as evidenced by the way he lights up when asked about it. “It’s still too early to find out. Obviously we don’t care, as long as they’re healthy and happy.”

“Congrats, man, you’re living the dream, you know that?” As envious as he can admit to being, he’s also incredibly happy for Juan. “You deserve it. Especially after, you know…”

“Life is totally different now.” Leaving the Bureau is what was best for Juan. He knows that now, even if it was a painful decision to make back then. “I’m not going to ever downplay the things in my past, but the future is looking pretty fucking good, man.”

Completely understanding the fact that Juan doesn’t want to talk, he nods. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

“I appreciate that, man.” Juan grins and pats Marcus on the shoulder. “Enjoy some time in town and come on back here around seven tonight. Syd isn’t working the dinner rush tonight so we’ll all be able to relax.”

“That sounds good.” The comfortable jeans and a sweater will still look sharp enough for game night and he sends his friend a smile before he walks out of the kitchen.

Things have calmed down in the lobby when you return to the front desk to pick up a few papers and check in on your concierge before retreating into your office for the rest of your shift. The inn may have calmed down but you're still spinning wildly on the idea that your soulmate might have walked through the door of the inn this morning with absolutely no fanfare and a nervous smile on his incredibly handsome face.

Nope. Stop it. Sam is coming for board game night tonight and you really fucking like him. Don't give up your whole stance on freedom of happiness just because some absolutely dishy FBI agent has your tattoo.

"Everything going okay, Malachi?" You will be professional, and not a blithering mass of nervous energy. Even if it takes all the energy you have to force it.

“Everything’s fantastic, we had another couple call to book a room for next weekend. So we officially will have no vacancies.” He reports proudly, like he had recruited the couple himself.

"Good. That's actually excellent. That means we have no vacancies at any point for two week on either side of Valentine's Day unless someone cancels." It's always possible. After all, break up happen around that particular holiday. But with the way they've been booking rooms lately, they should be able to fill a hole more easily than not. "I'm going to go to my office and work on the schedule. If you need me, just call."

“Of course.” Malachi cranes his neck as that handsome guy walks out to a beautiful motorcycle. “But before you go.” He hums. “Who is that?”

You can't help but chuckle, your concierge's obvious interest making you recognize the ridiculousness of the whole situation all over again. "That's Juan's friend," you tell him, gathering up your paperwork. "He'll be around more, and he's allowed into the kitchen. So you know he's special."

“And does Juan’s friend have a name?” He asks, smirking slightly.

"Special Agent Marcus Pike." You smirk right back at him, giving Marcus's title along with his name. By now Agent Bailey has probably done an entire workup on the agent. Why wouldn't she?

“Special Agent.” Because it’s the two of you and there’s no guest around, Malachi watches out the window with unabashed interest. “He can mount me like he mounts that bike any time.”

"Mal!" There's no reason for you to be taken aback by that comment considering how well you know Malachi Debose, but you still find yourself stifling a laugh with wide eyes. You tell yourself to joke, ignoring the twist in your chest at the idea of Marcus with anyone else. It's not up to you. He's his own person. And he might not even be your soulmate to begin with! "I'm pretty sure he's straight, honey, but you never know. It would not be the first guy you've swept out of the closet who didn't even realize they were in there in the first place."

He sighs dramatically, even though he’s smirking proudly. “You’re right.” He admits. “We’ll see how mister Special Agent Marcus Pike acts and then I’ll decide.”

"Behave yourself." Is the playful warning you give him before turning and nodding to Agent Bailey. "Time to sit in the office while I swear at my computer," you tell her. As the Secret Service agent who is with you most of the time, Kendra Bailey has learned your past, your friends, your job, and your habits like a book. She appreciates that you're not throwing yourself into politics because it means her days are a little calmer than they could be, but the coming and going of all sorts of people through the inn on a daily basis presents its own challenges.

She nods, already curious about the FBI agent that she’s encountered here. It’s not unusual to run background checks on people who continuously hang around the inn, and it sounds like he will become a fixture for the foreseeable future. “Of course, Hummingbird.”

You groan softly, realizing that that is going to get said around Marcus Pike at some point or other, and just try to shake it off for now. "You can call me by my name around here, you know." She won't. You've had this conversation more than once, but sometimes you think you'll never get used to being ma'am or Hummingbird at all times to your Secret Service detail.

“Yes ma’am.” She nods, both of you aware that she’s not going to break protocol like that. Instead, she’s turning to the chair that has been placed outside your office, tucked into a discreet corner so it’s not completely obvious that you are being guarded. Giving you the illusion of privacy.

"Someday I'm going to get you to at least come into the office." There are rules. A hell of a lot of them, in fact, and you know that they exist for a reason. But Agent Bailey is allowed to be in your office with you, and you hope it won't take your mother's entire first term in office for her to get comfortable enough with you to do that.

“I understand that, but if I’m in your office, you won’t concentrate.” She reminds you with a small, unseen smile. The first time you had insisted, you hadn’t gotten anything done.

"Too social for my own good, I guess." With a small smile exchanged between the two of you, you nod in agreement before heading down the hall to your office. She's right, and you both know it.

Outside, a snazzy sports car pulls up. Not too flashy, because a junior congressman from Maryland can’t be seen throwing money away frivolously, but sporty enough to make him grin as he changes gears. The door pops open, sunglasses tossed on the dash and Sam hustles out of his car, eager to see you.

"Hey Sam." Malachi looks up from the desk when the door opens and offers up a smile. Professional, but friendly. So far, Congressman Chase hasn't done anything to warrant the cold shoulder. "Is she expecting you?"

“Not until later, but I was hoping to surprise her.” He admits, sending the concierge a wink. “She in her office?”

"Just went in to work on the schedule." Malachi reports, but his smile morphs from professional to earnest in half a second. "The new software is giving her a headache and a half. I bet coming in with a cup of coffee with also be a welcome surprise."

“You are a good man, Malachi.” Sam slaps the antique reception stand and grins. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He lifts his brows and points at him as he changes directions to the kitchen to beg a cup of coffee from Sydney.

A knock on the kitchen door is odd but not unheard of, and Sydney glances back over her shoulder when the swinging door pushes open to admit the six-foot Congressman she now affectionately calls, "Sam Sam! As happy as I am to see you, your lady friend is not in the kitchen."

“I know.” Sam tosses the chef an easy grin. “A little birdie told me that she might appreciate a cup of coffee, so I’m here to be her runner.”

Sydney smirks, never ceasing in her work but nodding to the coffee pot in the corner of the kitchen. “Go right ahead. I’m sure she’ll be grateful.”

“Thank you.” He immediately beelines for the coffee maker, intent on also making himself a cup. Though he would prefer a cocktail. “It smells great in here, like always.” He tosses over his shoulder.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She hums happily in return. “I made a lasagna for game night. Are you staying?”

“Unless an emergency session is call.” Sam snorts. “And you know half those crusty old bastards don’t want to work.” He adds some creamer and sweetener to his, doctors yours and turns back. “Is this the lasagna with the pancetta?” He asks, giving her a pleading look.

“It is, and I did a little something different with the ricotta layer this time, so you’ll have to tell me what you think.” One hand shoos him playfully away, but she does laugh. “I’ll feed you later. Go see your lady.”

“Thank you!” He laughs as well, zipping out the door to head in to see you. Hopefully you aren’t working on anything too important that you can’t steal away some time for him.

Two short knocks on your door could be anyone, but you save your progress in working on next week’s schedule and call for them to come in. It’s probably Malachi with a guest accommodation question, which is no problem. You can hit pause on scheduling the housekeeping staff around their various class schedules to answer just about anything.

After getting the okay to enter, Sam juggles the cups and pokes his head in the door. “Can you spare a few minutes, beautiful?” He asks.

The grin that spreads on your face is surprise and relief, and you hop up from your dream to open the door fully. “If that’s coffee in your hands, I can spare more than just a few.”

“Of course it is, fixed just the way you like it.” While he doesn’t drink it nearly as sweet as you do, he also doesn’t make fun of you for it.

“To what do I owe the early visit?” The door clicks shut behind him and you sit back in your chair with a happy sigh.

“We let out early.” Sam explains. “Figured we could spend some time together .”

“I’m always glad to see you.” It’s true. It genuinely is. Which is why you hate the nagging guilt of the fact that you had just been telling yourself to stop speculating about your possible soulmate and focus on work.

“That’s a good thing.” Despite the idea that dating the First Daughter was good for his career, Sam genuinely cares for you. It might not be the passionate love he had imagined years ago, but he’s mature enough to understand that a solid connection was a good thing.

“So your meeting went alright?” The committee that he’s on had an unofficial lunch meeting today, which must have gone well if he’s already here saying hello. “I was afraid they’d have you all day and you’d miss out in lasagna and the new Clue game that Sydney’s sister picked up.”

“No.” Sam snorts. “They wanted it done as quickly as possible.” He tells you. “I’ve got to admit that I’ve never seen people that hate to work more than politicians.”

“Well that’s hardly encouraging,” you snort, and shake your head before taking a sip of hot coffee. “I guess you’ll just have to whip them into shape, Congressman. No two ways about it.”

“I’m trying.” He laughs and shrugs. “Right now I equate it to herding cats.” He jokes, sitting down on the other side of your desk and watching you for a moment while you savor your coffee.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever called a member of the House of Representatives.” The two of you share a laugh, and you shift in your seat a little with an awkward expression before talking again. “I…got an email this morning. From Mom’s office. Informing me of my first few expected photo ops as First Daughter.” It’s a big part of the job, for you at least, to look the part and play the part and help the country to see your mother as not just the president, but a family-oriented professional as well. Being the first female President has its challenges and your mother is plowing into them head on. Which, honestly? You give her a lot of credit for. “They asked if I would be willing to release some social media photos from our Valentine’s date…” The fact that you hadn’t planned one yet is slightly beyond the point. Now you pretty much have to.

“Well, what kind of pictures would you like?” Sam asks easily, aware that you don’t relish the attention, but it’s part of the job. “We can do a dinner at home, appeal to the base of Americans.” He suggests.

“I don’t love the idea of someone recognizing an aspect of your house or neighborhood and you getting doxed for it,” you admit ruefully. It would have to be Sam’s house, since you don’t actually have one. You can’t exactly put out photos of your attic apartment and expect the White House press core not to make noises. “I was thinking we could put the spotlight on a minority-owned small business or go to some low-key arts event? If they’re going to ask me to be in the spotlight then I want to use it for good.”

“Do you want to decide?” He asks, aware that you can be quite choosy at times. He doesn’t really mind. “Or do you want me to come up with something?”

“It’s probably easier if I figure it out.” You admit. It’s not your favorite option, all things considered, but since it’s dumb for you to be even vaguely upset that your boyfriend didn’t announce he had secret plans already in the works — which your stupid romantic comedy loving brain had hoped for but knew was a longshot — it’s better to just be practical. “So the Secret Service can tell me if wherever I pick is insecure or something like that. Even though I can’t imagine that anybody is out to get me. That’s absurd.”

“You’d be surprised what humans are capable of.” Sam reminds you, having read some of the most horrific reports imaginable. He likes that you are practical, even if you are a bit naive.

“Not a super fun thing to hear from your boyfriend, but okay.” It’s nothing you can’t brush off, and you do so with a wave of your hand. “There is also a state dinner coming up in a few weeks that I definitely do not want to go to without you.”

“I’m available.” He promises. “I’ve got a couple of events in my district coming up. But I’ll mark that on my calendar.”

“Thank you.” Though you aren’t blind to the ways that attending these things helps him, you appreciate the company. You aren’t effortlessly charismatic like your brother or a star student with enigmatic insights like your sister. You’re the least comfortable in the public eye out of your whole family, and that is what it is. At some point in the night when he inevitably veers off to shake hands and schmooze politically, you’ll sit quietly at your table and smile politely while you wait for Sam to come back, and that’s okay. “I really really appreciate it.”

Sam huffs, sending you a small smirk. “A night where you are wearing a beautiful dress, we eat an elegant dinner, what’s not to love?” He leaves the part about making connections unspoken, both of you know how this game is worked. “And maybe you can come spend the night at my place after.”

"What an absolutely scandalous suggestion." One hand clutches your nonexistent pearls, pretending to be aghast, but you throw him a wink. Intimacy in your relationship unfortunately does have to be scheduled at a certain point...just on the basis that you have a Secret Service agent you can't simply ditch, and he has a personal assistant that might be even more invasive than the Secret Service. "I love it."

“Good.” Sam smirks back at you and sends you his own wink. “I’ve missed a cute little snore, and I need to get some cuddling in.”

"I do not snore." Despite pouting at him – and knowing that you do, in fact, snore – you end up grinning. "But we have been low on cuddle time lately, I agree."

“Yeah, I know my job is hectic and yours isn’t a walk in the park.” He acknowledges wholeheartedly. “But I want this to work. Maybe we just need to move in together.” He hadn’t meant to just blurt that out, but he’s been thinking about it.

“I—what?” You nearly spit out the sip of coffee you had just taken and sit up arrow straight in your chair, staring at him without the ability to stop yourself. “You—you want me to—to move in with you?” It’s never been discussed. Not really. At least not with a timeline, and that’s probably your fault. You’re so prone to jumping into relationships head first that you had told yourself you would move slow with Sam. That…seems to not be the case now.

“It doesn’t have to be now.” He promises. “Just something to consider. That’s all. We would get more time together.”

"I can honestly say I was not expecting that today." It's shaken you up a little, if you're honest, but you reach over your desk and squeeze his hand before leaning out of your chair to kiss him.

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” It’s not quite the reaction he was expecting, if he is honest with himself.

"No, not at all!" You're quick to reassure him, realizing that Sam's expression is a little more guarded than usual. You've disappointed him. That's not a feeling you like at all. Not even a little. "I'd say the fact that my boyfriend wants to spend more time with me is a very good thing." If it's such a good thing, why is your mouth dry and why are you all tense with nerves? "And I want that, too. You just surprised me, that's all."

“Of course we need to talk about it more in depth.” He relaxes slightly, happy that you are at least open to the idea.

"Is that...something you want to talk about soon?" There are ideas rolling over in your head with varying levels of comfort, but the fact is that you hadn't realized that Sam was already there. Sure you had said your I love yous already, but you really had been trying to go slower this time, and that pace had seemed to suit Sam just fine. And why is it suddenly now that your mind is stuck on the idea that he isn't your soulmate? Is it just because you met a man who could be? You had always told yourself it didn't matter before now...

“We are coming up on our one-year anniversary of dating.” He reminds you, wondering why all of a sudden you look like you’ve seen a ghost. He’s been patient, letting you move slowly since you were afraid of diving in too much too soon, but this is the natural next step. Otherwise, it will be random sleepovers whenever you can manage it for the rest of your lives and Sam doesn’t want that. “I figured we could discuss what our next steps were.” He smiles softly. “I want the next steps, whenever you’re ready.”

"You're right." He is right. The logic is there, and the sweetness, and you do genuinely like him. In fact, loving him came easily and naturally. It's just that today has you a little shaken up and you don't want to admit it to yourself. Any other day and you would have been ecstatically throwing yourself into his arms. "You're absolutely right. This is definitely next." Composing yourself into a smile and reminding yourself to goddamn relax, you pick up your now cold coffee and finish the cup. "Why don't we pick a night this week to cook dinner together and talk through what we want our future to look like?"

“That works.” He flashes you the boyish grin you claim to love and nods. “Little food. Little wine, little….cuddling while we talk. It’s exactly what we need. You’ve been peddle to the mettle lately, and so have I. It will be good to decompress and hash out our concerns.”

"Perfect." And you will, you tell yourself sternly, get your shit together by then.

“But tonight…” he winks at you. “I’m going to whoop your ass at Clue.”

Because it's your turn to host, your small apartment has been cleaned top to bottom in preparation for the night. Sydney took care of making dinner, you have dessert in the refrigerator, and you have it on the authority of the group chat that garlic bread and salad are both coming as well. Juan said he and Marcus were supplying drinks, so everything is set up with plenty of time for everyone to arrive.

Agent Bailey is sitting on the couch waiting for her evening relief so she can go home to her own family and Sam is setting a stack of mismatched plates on the dining room table when Juan, Marcus, Sydney, and her sister Anna Leigh all show up very promptly on the turn of the hour.

Marcus is a little nervous aware that he has a tenuous tie to the game night, but he is quickly at ease when everyone starts greeting people like old friends. He hadn’t quite known what to get, so he had bought several bottle of whiskey and wine, figuring someone would appreciate it. The bottle of ‘76 Statesman Reserve a personal favorite of his and the little store he had stopped at had one last bottle.

"Hey, we didn't scare Marcus off!" Maybe you're a little happy to see him, but you excuse that as being glad that Juan has his friend back and ardently ignore the way your chest clenches when he walks into your little apartment.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers instantly, holding back from flirting like he wants to. You are seeing someone. “But I brought gifts.” He holds up the bottle, the others in his bag.

“Statesman.” You practically groan with delight at the sight of the bottle. “When we were campaigning in Kentucky, my little brother and I toured their distillery, I love this stuff.” Fighting the instinct to offer him a hug — and it really is an instinct — you grin and wander toward the kitchen to complete introductions. “You already know Syd and Juan, of course. The beautiful agent of chaos currently throwing garlic bread in the oven is Syd’s sister Anna Leigh, and the intimidating lady on the sofa with the New York Times crossword in her lap is Agent Bailey. I don’t know if you two officially met earlier or not. Looking around, Sam is not in sight, but you chew your lip for a second and smile. “My other half seems to have disappeared, but I’m sure he’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay.” He shouldn’t be disappointed that your boyfriend is here. That’s what he keeps telling himself. “Congressman from Maryland, right?” Okay, he might have read up on you.

“Right.” There’s a note of something off in Marcus’s voice but you can’t figure out what, so you just smile. “I promise we don’t use official titles over board games.”

“Good.” He cracks a lighthearted grin. “I hate when I’m made in charge of the jail in Monopoly.” He jokes. He hands you the bottle and looks around the little apartment. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I think we’re just waiting for Issy and then everyone will be here. So for now if you want to maybe pour drinks while we all get settled?” This is always an informal setting and you want everyone to feel relaxed as much as possible. “Let me give you the grand tour first?” What a stupid thing to say in your little, tiny space. But now you’ve said it, so you just have to pretend it was something charming to say instead of awkward.

“That sounds good.” Marcus quickly agrees, although it’s obvious that there’s not much to the small space. “The private sanctum.”

“Eat it kitchen.” Is the space you’re standing in, with a too-big dining room table that is also your prep counter because there is basically no counter space — just enough to put a few grocery bags on and nothing more. “I have an unholy love of dinner parties, hence the big table. Over here is the living room. Mandatory bar cart with the tv, and as many throw pillows as the couch can hold.” Agent Bailey currently has her arm resting on the head of a pillow shaped like a horse that you brought back from a campaign trip out West. “Bathroom is down the hall, just here.” The door is closed, so that must be where Sam is. “And just turn the corner and you’re in the bedroom-slash-library.” You have to call it that — you really have to, because the entire room is covered in wall to wall bookcases that are pretty much entirely full. The only exceptions are where your sleigh bed and writing desk sit on opposite ends of the tight room. “It’s more library than anything else.”

“Obviously like to read.” He nods. “What genre? Or is it too embarrassing to mention in company?”

“I’m not embarrassed at all to read romance novels.” A whole section of the shelf by your bed is dedicated to them, in fact. Healthy sexuality and healthy explorations of that sexuality are vital, but you won’t get that far into the topic. “I have a lot of various things here, but the majority are probably mystery, thrillers, and classics from all over the world.” The shelf you’re standing by has your collection of writing by both F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and you smile. “Of course, some of the classics are romances. That’s to be expected.”

“They are. I find that if you limit yourself in what you read, you are missing out.” He looks over your shelf with interest. “It looks like a wonderful collection.”

“Thank you. A compliment for my books is the highest compliment possible.” There’s a warm smile on your lips when the bathroom door pulls open a few feet away and you feel like you’ve been caught although there isn’t a single thing wrong about showing a new friend around your apartment. There’s no reason to jump out of your skin, but here you are with burning cheeks feeling embarrassed.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Sam doesn’t frown, but he wonders who this man is and why he is in your bedroom.

"Hey." Your smile does widen of its own accord, and you motion between the men in a sort of vaguely formal way that is definitely odd for you. "Sam, this is Marcus. One of Juan's old friends. He came by the inn earlier today and we thought it would be nice to introduce him to the group." It's awful, and very unnecessary, how heavy your tongue feels when you go to make the introduction the opposite way. "Marcus, this is Sam. My boyfriend."

It’s a little awkward, Marcus can admit that but he extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam.” He offers, smiling in a friendly, first meeting kind of way. “My connection to the group is through Juan.” He explains. “We were at the academy together.”

"Ah, a government man." That seems to win Sam's approval, though his handshake might be just a hair tighter than it would otherwise be based on the tension in the air. "Well, welc—"

"Babe!" Sydney's voice comes loud and clear from the other room as the door opens and the sound of chaotic friends can be heard. "Issy's here! Let's gooo!"

The introductions are interrupted and it’s probably not a bad thing. Marcus lets go of Sam’s hand and immediately makes for the door. “Guess that’s our queue.”

“Coming!” You call back, eager to be standing anywhere but your doorway between these two men. “Issy is a friend from college.” That’s the easy explanation you give Marcus as Sam steers you back to the kitchen with his hand on your back. “Syd, Anna Leigh, and Issy and I were suite mates at Mount Holyoke.”

Marcus nods, committing everyone to memory. “Nice to meet all of you. Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”

Getting everything set up doesn’t take much longer, and a buffet of cheesy garlic bread, a huge salad, Sydney’s pancetta lasagna, and the lemon tiramisu you made for dessert is all laid out on the counter. Everyone digs in and says a loud chorus of rowdy good nights when your Secret Service detail has its changing of the guard in the middle of it all. It’s a lot, and it’s chaos, but it’s so comforting because these are all people you love to spend time with. Even Marcus, as new as he is, fits right into the group effortlessly.

“Oh! Sydney.” Marcus dives back into the bag and pulls out a bottle of sparkling white grape juice and some sodas and grenadine. “I figured you might like my family’s version of Shirley Temple’s?” He offers. “So you can have a mocktail with the ladies?”

“Absolutely!” Syd’s eyes light up at the offer, and she brings her overstuffed plate over to the table to sit beside her husband. In her favorite baggy sweatshirt, no one could ever tell she’s pregnant, but one of her hands rests on the side of her belly anyway. “That sounds fantastic.”

“So my grandmother used to make these for all the kids, so we could feel special too.” Marcus explains as he grabs a wine glass and starts to mix together the non-alcoholic drink. “It had to be sparkling grape juice because of the bottle shape.” He chuckles now, but back then? He had felt grown up. “When she died, we served these at her wake.”

“That’s so sweet.” Sydney awes softly as Marcus carefully pours out the drink. “These are Birdie’s favorite, actually,” she points her thumb back at you while she chats at him. “We usually spike them with rum, of course. To be a Shirley Temple Black. I can’t remember the last time I just had a regular old Shirley Temple.”

“A dirty Shirley?” Marcus gasps in faux horror. “The best way to spike that is with Statesman.”

“On it!” You hop up from the table immediately to grab a glass and line up next to Sydney at the counter. “I’ve heard of people doing them with rum and vodka, but never with whiskey. I have to know.”

He chuckles and nods. “You won’t regret it. The grape juice plays off the smoky, oaky flavors very nicely.” He tells you. “It’s almost better than a robust bouquet on a red.”

“I can’t claim to know anything about wine, but I’m trying to learn.” Sam prefers wine, and you’ve been trying to not feel foolish when people discuss wine pairings at official dinners. It’s been a fairly deep learning curve. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

“More of a whiskey girl?” Marcus asks, filing away the information even though it’s not like he’s going to use it. One of those odd little quirks of his time in the Bureau, he tries to read people.

“Always have been.” As evidenced by the Whiskey Makes Me Frisky sweater still stuff in your closet from college, which won’t see the light of day again until your mother is out of office. “You too?” Your eyes widen immediately and you stumble over correcting yourself. “Guy, I mean? Whiskey guy?”

Marcus laughs and gives you a guilty grin. “I learned to enjoy wine. My ex was a wino to the point where we honeymooned in Napa Valley.” He snorts. “But my first love was a Jack and Coke.”

“The next time you’re sick, have a whiskey and ginger beer.” The advice comes as he hands you your glass but he looks skeptical. “I mean, it’s a good drink no matter what, but I swear it knocks out my colds faster than anything else.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Marcus hums and decides that he will make one for himself. “Tell me what you think.”

One sip has you groaning, and you bring the glass back to the table like you’ve found the Holy Grail. “Sammy, try this. I know you’re not usually big in whiskey, but this is fantastic.”

Sam wrinkles his nose, really uninterested in trying it, but he politely takes a sip. Pleasantly surprised, he makes a face. “Huh. That’s not as horrible as I imagined.”

“And that,” you look back at Marcus and laugh. “Is the highest compliment he’s ever given a whiskey drink.”

Marcus chuckles politely and motions towards the table. “There’s a nice Cabernet that he might like better.” He offers.

“That sounds perfect.” You move back to the counter to collect a wine glass, corkscrew, and the bottle to bring back, knowing that Sam will open it far more neatly than you can.

“So how has everybody been?” Prompting conversation once everyone is at the table gets the ball rolling nicely, and conversation starts as everyone starts to eat their dinner.

“Well, everyone knows that Sydney is expecting.” Juan boasts proudly, obviously loving the prospect of becoming a father. “But she started experiencing her first cravings.”

“Oooo, what are they?” Issy sits up in her chair immediately. “Please tell me it’s something non-gourmet. If this baby is a food snob I’m not going to have anything to tease you about.”

“Right now….” Juan grins and sends his wife an utterly besotted look. “Ranch flavored bugles.”

“Oh my god!” Both Issy and Anna Leigh practically scream with laughter immediately and your jaw hits the table with maniacal giggle.

“I know,” Syd moans in embarrassment. “I know! The baby likes ranch!”

“There must be a joke there somewhere.” Marcus laughs, enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere of the group and how they are all so easy with each other.

"Syd's current greatest fear is having a kid who doesn't care about food." You explain, picking up a forkful of lasagna. "If they turned out to not like food or hockey, she'll be doomed."

“I see.” He chuckles, although he himself had a less refined pallet when he was younger. Now he enjoys trying new things.

"They're exaggerating." Sydney promises, not wanting her husband's old friend to think she's that much of a snob. "Obviously no kid comes out loving caviar and oxtail."

“No, I can see why you would expect your child to give you cravings for something like this.” He praises, lifting a forkful of the lasagna. “I gave my mom cravings for salami and bologna. Which she couldn’t eat.”

"My mom had a lot of cheese cravings." Not expecting baby-oriented conversation was probably an oversight on your part, but it's fun and your best friend just absolutely glows whenever it's brought up. "With me it was gruyere, with my brother it was cheddar, and with my little sister it was asiago." The memory makes you grin, and you laugh a little, mostly to yourself. "She ate so many asiago bagels when she was pregnant with June."

“Ohhhhh I could see how that could be an easy craving.” Issy snorts. “I have cravings for those all the time and I’m not pregnant.”

"Right?" You're nodding in agreement instantly. "I'm honored that my pregnancy craving was gruyere. That's quality cheese."

“Maybe the craving will change to truffle cheddar fries.” Marcus suggests with a grin. “With ranch.”

“See, this is the kind of encouragement we should be thinking about. Positive thinking all the way.” Sydney grins, beaming across the table to her husband’s friend. Even if her hunch about the true nature of Marcus’s soulmate marks isn’t true, he’s still a good addition to the group. “What’s everybody else been up to.”

Everyone starts talking and Marcus leans back. Watching the dynamic of the group and it’s obvious that everyone is comfortable with each other. Talking over one another and laughing, poking fun in a gentle way. It seems as if Juan - and you - have a solid friends group.

The tempo of the night is unchanged from any other — there is as much laughter and fun as any game night you’ve had in years. The joy of having your friends nearby is never tempered, but tonight it is…just a little bit different. As for first time ever — with your boyfriend sitting next to you — you have to wonder if maybe your soulmate is actually sitting there at the table. And what will you do when it isn’t the man with his arm around you?

______

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

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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loversipod · 1 year

Text

Shy Lover

Summary: Harry is the shy boy in school and y/n boyfriend. She gets to know him over the months and see him growing comfortable around her. So comfortable that he’s ready to make love to her for the first time.

Pairing: shy boyfriend!harry x fem!reader

Wordcount: 3,3k

Trigger warnings: soft dom, use of pet names, light teasing, begging, choking, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, mention of handjob, hair pulling, short mention of scars, protective sex, aftercare

A/N: I don’t write much smut, so it isn’t my best, but it’s soft and caring. Please give me some feedback I appreciate it s lot :) I kinda wanna write more about them

For three months she has been Harry y/n boyfriend. She loves to hang out with him. They always study together at her house or they go on walks.

Y/n noticed how shy he is. When they go out to eat dinner he asks if y/n can order for him. Of course, she says yes. She doesn’t want him to get too nervous around strangers. If he does he picks on his painted fingernails. He’s a good boyfriend, the best she ever had.

Harry hides his hands in the sleeves of his oversized sweaters. That’s one thing she loves about her lover.

Y/n liked him for over two years and finally took the courage to ask him out. She noticed over the two years how he blushed when he talked to his friends about something and often he looked at her. When she was with her ex boyfriend he looked sad and his friends tried to cheer him up all the time. He watched her a lot when she was with his ex lover. He couldn’t help it but always had his eyes on her no matter what.

Harry thought y/n is the most beautiful girl in school. She’s smart, soft, beautiful and so talented. She’s good in art class. He loves her sundresses and her big sweaters. He wants to steal one from her.

There is no reason not to have a crush on her.

"H can I braid your hair?" She asks sweetly. Her eyes scan his face and she sees how his cheeks grew red. It’s adorable to see him like this.

"Y-you want to?" He asks her back in a whisper.

"Mhm, you hide that face too often," and before he knew it his whole face was red. "May I?" She pressed her nose in his temple. He nods. She pulls his grey hood down and can’t help it, but look into his forest green eyes.

Y/n wanted to open his grey cardigan. He laid his hand on y/n. "’M only wearing a shirt, I’ll get cold." His voice comes out in a whisper.

"Okay," she kisses his hot cheek. Y/n love doing his hair. When he allows her girlfriend, she makes her boyfriend some pigtails or braids them. Sometimes she uses just some colourful hair clips. On other days he asks for buns with those colourful hair clips. Sometimes the shy boy asks her to make him some pig tails as well. Harry likes them a lot.

He’s too shy to talk to her on some days, that’s the reason why she always plays music. Y/n parents even talked to her about it and told her to have safe sex. Always use protection and that she doesn't have to do anything that makes her uncomfortable or don’t want to do.

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

After four months of being Harry’s girlfriend he opens up more. He’s still shy, but it gets better. He kiss y/n soft hair that smells like flowers. He loves smelling her hair or just watching her doing her make-up. He sometimes asks if he can curl her hair and of course she says yes. Harry loves helping her.

Harry brought his girl home one time to show her where her boyfriend lives. "Mom isn’t home don’t worry," he says walking into the kitchen. "Food?" He asks simple, still nervous.

"A yogurt, if I’m allowed to," he nods, taking the yogurt out of the fridge and a spoon with him upstairs.

She looks around watching him change out of his sweater into a long arm shirt. It’s the first time y/n sees how he’s looking under his long clothes. Y/n never really thought about how he looks under his big clothes, maybe a little belly that would be cute. But she never thought he had a trained back.

Y/n unlocked her phone and started to scroll on instagram she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable by looking. "Are ya still hungry?" Harry turns around and looks up at him and shakes her head.

In school her lover let y/n eat with his friends just for a few days in the week. It makes him really nervous. She sat there and ate with them. Harry picked again on his fingernails, "you don’t have to be nervous," she whispers in his ear before kissing him on his cheek. He gives her a simple smile and tangles their fingers.

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Harry’s hugs are big, warm and comfortable. He was so shy, but grew more comfortable around her and touched her. He wanted to share physical touch with her. Harry hugs her now, touches her arms sometimes or kisses her face. Or talks a lot more than she was used to.

Today is a day where her boyfriend wants her to stay at his house. His sister is at home and Harry had to introduce y/n to Gemma. "Hi, it’s really nice to meet you. Harry mentioned you a lot." He turns shy, again. Gemma hugged her, they talked a lot. The prince stood by the two girls and held y/n hand patiently. Waiting for y/n to come to his room.

When they went into Harry's room he put some music on and asked y/n for pigtails. She did not put two strands in the braids, because it looks cuter.

H almost dropped his phone, when she pressed her soft lips against the delicate skin of his neck. Harry never admitted it, but he loves tiny neck kisses; it was the tingles that ran down his spine. He loved the intimacy of it. A little moan escaped his soft lips.

She was bold for the first time in their relationship. "S-sorry," she whispers and hides in his neck.

Something snapped in Harry’s head. He doesn’t know she feels that way about him. "Don’t hide from me, pretty girl," he turns his body to her. Harry can see how red her cheeks are. Now she knows how he feels around her.

He puts his hand under your chin and gently till’s her head up. "Hi," she smiles.

"Hi," he kisses her forehead. It's strange for her how gentle he holds her face in his big hands. Her eyes are big and glassy. Even with his pig tails he looks dominant. He freed his hair out of the hair ties.

He wraps his fingers with his rings around her throat and squeezes her sides with light pressure. She curls her fingers around his wrist. No one ever choked her. It's new, but it sends a rush through her body. His grip around her throat gets tighter. She can see the pleasure in his eyes just from choking her.

It’s strange to see his dominant side.

"H-harry?" He loses his grip around her throat. He smirks, he grabs her face between his palms to bring her down to his lips, he kisses her softly for the first time. She’s scared to touch him at the moment. The kiss feels so good, but she’s not sure if it’s okay to touch him now.

"Love?" Harry asks.

"Mhm," he chuckles.

"Can I touch you?" His voice is confident. H’s warm hands are smoothing over her hips. She swallows hard, "it’s okay if you don’t want to," he leans in for a second kiss.

"Do you actually like me?" She asks unsure.

"I can’t stop thinking about you for more than two years. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last when I go to sleep. You’re the best that ever happened to me. You help me a lot. I can’t lose you. I need you in my life. I told my mom about you before we even dated." She hugs him tightly, her eyes are teary. He rubs her back.

"You can," she said quietly, "I‘ve done it only once." She’s insecure about it for no reason. She knows he had more girlfriends in the past so he’s more experienced then her. One of his exes is y/n old friend. She was toxic. Y/n was happy to finally leave her behind. She told her how good he is and what they did even though she knew y/n likes him a lot at that time.

"No sex until you are 100 percent sure," he kisses her temple short. But there is another reason why she feels so insecure about it. "There is still something wrong," he murmured. "What is it?"

Her eyes closed, "you were with Lana and she told me so much stuff, what you did to her." Harry softly kissed her forehead, he stroked her knuckles.

"She was my girlfriend, but I never was intimate with her." Y/n eyes open again. Before her, he wasn’t shy. Maybe she used him, there was a rumour that he has scars on his body. She did something to him. She was never really in love with him. After she left him he was shy and insecure. Her boy won’t be the same. She did something he will never be the same.

She changed him.

"Can we wait a little longer?” He nods short.

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Y/n found out after six months that her boyfriend is shy, but loves to take control in the bedroom.

He often finds an excuse why he needs to see her. Is it for homework or a project he wants to help her mostly it ends in a make out session. All he wants is to taste her lips.

He’s adorable.

H is still so shy around her, but he takes control over her, it makes her feel things. She never thought he could be like this. Not the shy boy.

She loves that about him.

Harry takes y/n out to picnic dates, in the summertime. He surprised her with a lot of dates in the past three weeks. They go book shopping or just go for a walk in the park and feed the ducks.

Harry invited y/n over, he’s alone at home for the next couple of days and he wanted to spend some time with her.

Y/n laid on his bed, he watched the pattern’s of her breathing. He tells her things she never heard before. He asked questions to the ceiling and never knew what she was thinking.

But she liked it, he liked her. He thought a lot about it. He laid his hand on her soft skin and started to stroke her inner thigh, teasingly. He saw how y/n breathing picked up. Her gaze stays on the ceiling above her. His fingers outlined her panties.

Harry loves it when it’s summer and y/n wears skirts and her pretty sundresses. Barney Stinson said it’s never too late to wear sundresses.

"Harry," she whines. His lips leave only a chuckle. It’s mean to tease her, but she looks so cute when she squirms under his touch. He can’t help it.

"Mhm, want me to touch you? Eating you out? You would like that, wouldn’t you?" She nods eagerly. "Words, bunny," he orders.

"Please touch me, need your mouth, please," a smirk grows on his lips. He hooks his fingers in her underwear and pulls her white lace panties down and puts them in his jeans pocket.

He settles his body between her legs and presses some light kisses against her skin. His fingers pull her sundress up to her belly. His plump lips suck eagerly purple bruises into her skin. Y/n reached her hand down to tangle her fingers in between his ringlet’s, "so impatient," he shakes his head and leaves a hickey on her hip bone. His tongue starts with slow board licks, y/n tugs on his hair.

"More please," she whines out. He flicks his tongue skillfully over her clit. She remembers that Harry told her to say what she wants. "C-can you maybe—" she got cut off by a moan.

He lifts his head up, "what do you want to tell me," he teased her by kissing, licking and biting her spread thigh.

"Can y-you maybe, um, suck a-and glide up," Harry nods and hums short. He brings his mouth back down to kiss her clit. The vibrations from the hum shoot through her, with the action she asked for making her eyes roll back in pleasure.

He repeated these actions using the tip of his tongue to play with her clit. All her soft whimpers and moans were music to his ears. He pulled her hips closer to his mouth. One of y/n boyfriend's hands slides down from her soft inner thigh to insert two fingers into her pulsing heat. She immediately clenched down on him. "You taste amazing," he murmurs between each stroke.

Y/n can feel how Harry brings her closer to her climax. "F-fuck…" she whimpers into the air. Her grip on his hair gets stronger, she earns a moan from him. Her legs tighten around his head. "I’m— I’m gonna—" a whiny moan comes over her dedicated lips

"Cum for me, bunny," he said out loud. Some seconds later her mouth leaves pornographic sounds. Y/n eyes are pinched and her mouth hangs open. "Good girl," Harry’s favourite sight. "You okay?" She nods. Harry kissed her hard and shoved his tongue in her mouth to let her taste herself.

“Thank you,” she pulls him down on his neck and keeps him close to her body.

“Can I– can I fuck you?” His voice comes out in a whisper.

“Please,” he opened a brown drawer from his nightstand to look for a condom. Y/n lunches inside, she sees some condoms, lube, tissues and chocolate. “Why chocolate?” She giggled.

“’M hungry after, uh, t–touching myself and too lazy to get something,” his whole face turned red and his voice broke at the end of his sentence. If she asks him, if it’s her she thinks about while doing it, he couldn’t answer her. It's too embarrassing for him. He’ll always be the shy boy around her. Obviously it gets better, but there is a part he always stays like this.

“It’s just me,” she spoke softly to him, kissing his cheeks and seeing some of her juices drip down his chin. “No reason to be nervous, you did amazing.”

“Can I stay dressed? I take off m’jeans and boxers, but not more.” He sounds really insecure, y/n don’t want to ask what it is. Why does he feel like this? She doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Of course she accepts him for who he is. She’s in love with him.

She’ll ask him what he has to hide and why he always wears big clothes at some point.

“Can I help?” He murmurs a quiet “yes” She sits up and fumbles with his belt when she finally undid it, he stands up from his bed and pulls his light blue wide jeans down. Her eyes scan his lower half. A long shirt covers his thighs a bit up. It looks out from under his sweater. “You are so pretty,” a shy smile formed on his swollen lips. H, crawled back between y/n legs.

He lets the loose straps from her dress fall down, “no bra, y’know my birthday isn’t anytime soon.” He smirks at chest. He had an obsession with her boobs. He often just grabs them or hides every bra she left at his house, so she never puts one on and Harry just stares at her chest with a shirt on. He loves them.

Y/n dress hung in her middle, Harry’s boxers lay with his jeans on the clean floor. Y/n gave him a lot of handjobs. But they are both horny teenagers. Knowing he will be inside her is intimidating for her. He’s not small.

He tugs a few times on his cock. “You sure about it?” She whispers a “yes” and takes his soft hand in hers. Y/n have seen him a few times but only a amount of times she can count it on her two hands. He opens the condom and rolls it carefully up. Y/n watched him, his pink tongue always pokes out when he concentrates. “We can stop whenever you want,” he pressed a kiss on her forehead. He grabs the bottle of lube, puts some on his hand and spreads it on the condom.

Her lover noticed how her face scrunched up in pain and he stopped. "Bunny? You alright? Do you want to stop?" He whispers in worry, stroking her cheek softly.

“No you’re just massive.”

“Oh bunny, you never had a cock this big?” She shakes her head, “’M sorry that it hurts.” He pouts and tangles their fingers. “I know you can be a good girl and take it.” His thrusts are slow and gentle. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He wraps her legs around his waist. His shirt and sweater are ridged up. She looks at his beautiful, soft and innocent skin.

The sunlight was bleeding through his curtains. Some whines and moans escaped both of their lips. He kept the pace filling her up to the brim, pleasure filled both of their systems. Harry peppers kisses around her chest, kitten licks her breast. He teasingly took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked lightly. Each time he did that she moaned. “You are so handsome,” her fingers go through his damp hair.

She wraps her legs tighter around his waist and pulls him in deeper with a soft moan. “You are doing great, angel.” His hand holding her face tilted her up with tenderness, kissing her swollen lips as he ground his hips deeper into her due the new angle.

She stroked his cheekbone, her orgasm came over her. She whines and moans into his mouth and Harry is close too. He can feel his balls tightening, heavy and waiting. Two more thrusts and he shoots his load into the condom. His head drops to y/n shoulder as he rides his orgasm out.

He stayed for a short moment inside her, “Aww, did I wear you out, love?” She nods lightly and covers her chest up, he then pulls out of her. He throws the condom into the bin and returns with a warm washcloth and wipes the mess between her legs, clean.

Harry helps her to put on some of his boxers and slides the dress down from her middle. He puts a shirt over her body, “I am officially obsessed with your body.” She hasn't seen his body completely yet but she knows it makes him feel good about himself.

“Hungry?” He asks her while pressing soft kisses against her forehead and cheeks.

“Can we eat some chicken nuggets?” She kisses all over his face, brings him down on his neck holding him close. Y/n don’t want him to leave her for bringing food. She knows it’s important for him to take proper care of her.

“I must say I’m the slightest bit offended that we just had the hottest sex ever and you’re thinking about chicken nuggets,” he chuckles and sees the biggest smile on her plump ips. He went downstairs, put some dinosaur nuggets into the oven. When he comes back he sees y/n snuggled up in his bed with his teddy in her arms. “Love, I have your nuggets,” she opens her eyes, lazily grabs the water glass and drinks it. She eats a nugget. Harry ate some as well.

She kisses his chest and murmurs, "you are the best boyfriend ever,” before drifting off to sleep in his arms.

He whispers in her hair, “I love you,” but she didn’t hear it. She’s asleep. “You’re the best that ever happened to me.” He pulls her closer to his chest and kisses her forehead one last time before he falls asleep as well.

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misscinnamonroll16 · 2 months

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Brozone headcanons

Clay and Floyd are the stunt men now that they're adults. Clay's always been a little bit of a daredevil, Floyd already died once, why not live a little.

Clay is nocturnal, like the rest of the Putt-putt trolls. His bros throw his sleep schedule off so when they're hanging out, it's not unusual for Clay to just be passed out somewhere or on someone. If they can, they get Clay to bed so he can properly sleep. If not, everyone's volume goes low.

Both Floyd and John Dory took bartending classes. And by took I mean, Floyd just so happened to be sleeping with a bartender who taught him some things. When making drinks, John's proper about it, Floyd is kind of messy. Floyd's over pouring and spilling.

Clay's handwriting is like a nice print. It's easy to read and looks good on paper.

John Dory is good at photography. He mostly uses this skill for taking nature shots but he's gotten good at candid shots of his brothers. He doesn't let them know about these pics bc they don't look the most photogenic but they look like themselves and that's what John loves to see.

JD has dimples

John Dory almost always has at least one weapon on him.

The brothers think JD has a death wish bc he's constantly going after animals that could literally kill him. "John! Don't touch that, it'll tear you to pieces!" "Psh, whatever. If we weren't supposed to pet it then why does look so fluffy?"

Floyd doesn't go into detail about his past. He'll tell snippets here and there but avoid questions. For one, because he's a bit embarrassed about it. He did a lot of things he isn't proud of, drugs, sleeping around, and drinking. For two, he knows that his older brothers still see him WAY younger than he actually is (like how they still see Branch as a baby) and it would just shatter that mentality. And he doesn't want to do that. For three, it's WAY more fun for him if they don't know and have to keep guessing. Floyd has heard them trying to figure out what he spent the last twenty years doing and starts fucking with them.

John Dory definitely has pictures from even when he was a baby and such. Even ones with their parents but he tries to keep those ones tucked away. Branch is going through them when he finds a picture that has been folded in one of the sleeves of the photo album. It's a picture of John and Bruce and their parents. JD quickly snatches the photo and shoves it his vest. Those people looked like strangers to Branch, that picture probably being the first time he's seen them

The brothers know they didn't have a good childhood but John did his best, despite being pretty much a child himself.

John Dory man spreads no matter who he is sitting next or if he's just sitting in a chair.

John Dory wears the one glove to hide an incredibly deep scar. He got into some trouble with some bounty hunters and needless to say, they drove a knife through his hand. He doesn't want his lil bros to know or worry about it so he hides it.

All the boys (like most trolls) are fuzzy. JD and Bruce have the most prominent facial hair and chest hair. They all have leg hair, arm hair, under arm hair, and a happy trail.

Clay and John have the Blond™️ gene (that's how I'm referring to it) where their hair goes through changes. That's why their hair is so much different from when they were kids. In the summer while spending a bunch of time outside, JD and Clay's hair gets lighter, Clay being a light yellow and John being a soft teal. The others convinced them to do one of those 'take a picture every day for a year' things and make it into a flip book to show how their hair changes color.

The boys really wanted a sister. John jokes that they kind of got one with Floyd

Floyd and John Dory are good gardeners. JD briefly grew his own food and Floyd just has a natural green thumb (not that John doesn't)

Floyd gets random nosebleeds

#trolls #brozone #trolls john dory #trolls floyd #trolls clay #trolls bruce #branch trolls #trolls headcanon #trolls headcanons #brozone headcanons #brozone hcs

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b00kdiary · 3 months

Note

Okay, you write the most delicious smut, so I think the plus-size reader is watching Cassian and Azriel spar and gets lost in her imagination about what they could do to her. And the duo finds out (maybe from Rhys), and one night at dinner, they offer to make her dreams reality. If you already have something like this in mind, please feel free to ignore it. I just think Az and Cassian would be down bad for a plus-size reader 🙂

Take it | Azriel & Cassian (I)

Azriel x Cassian x Plus Size Reader

Rhysand's playing Cupid and his meddling has you experiencing something you never would have thought possible.

Warnings: Mature content (18+) mild violence, mature language, illusions to smut (smut in part 2)

PART II

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

I knew I should have skipped training today.

From the moment Mor told me that she wasn't attending, that Feyre wouldn't be coming either and that I was alone with Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel- I knew I should have skipped.

Because now I was here, the scorching sun beaming down over my sweating skin, the barren wind a bare caress through my damp pleated hair- and my eyes unwavering upon the two Illyrian males before me.

Sparring.

"C'mon Azriel," Cassian taunted, hazel eyes gleaming with mischief as he danced around the Shadowsinger, his arrogant demeanour so at odds with Azriel's still, quiet form. "Don't tell me you're already tapping out."

Azriel smirked, the smallest tilt of his lips and I felt a shiver trace down the curve of my spine, watching as his powerful thighs rippled with every step he took, scarred hands angled out before him- waiting.

"And miss all the fun?" He mused softly, head cocking, a purely predatory move and the laugh that escaped Cassian was rough as if the banter between them made this all the more exciting.

It didn't usually affect me like this, I didn't usually feel such a strong, visceral response to the two of them. Yes, they were both unbelievably gorgeous and yes, I enjoyed watching them as much as any female did.

But it never affected me as much as it did right now, as strongly as it did from the moment I stepped onto the rooftop and greeted them. It had been hard to deny how my body felt then and it was even worse now.

Especially with them like this- shirtless, sweating, muscles rippling, powerful wings splaying wide, and taunts being thrown between them that made my thighs clench.

I pressed my back into the jagged wall behind me, anchoring myself down with the bite of the concrete against my skin, cutting in through the thin material of my legging and top. The shield I'd erected around me rippled, my emotions overwhelming my control over my magic.

Cassian grunted- raw and grumbling as he swung a fist out aimed for Azriel's rib but was swiftly blocked by a scarred hand shielding close to his tanned skin. Azriel gritted his teeth, his free hand slamming forward, palm connecting brutally with Cassian's shoulder, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

Cassian grinned, feral.

Azriel's eyes narrowed, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips.

And the wetness between my thighs grew and grew, the throbbing ache now incessant, so strong that no matter how hard I clenched my thighs shut it did nothing to quell the need. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, my body thrumming the longer I watched them.

A deep grunt, a rough, taunting laugh, bodies colliding, wings erected high, sweat and blood over perfect tan skin, trailing down corded muscle and carved abs. Movement so fast that I forced myself not to blink in case I missed something, fighting so intense it was impossible to look away.

And a heat coursing through my body so forcefully I felt like I was going to explode.

'What do we have here?' A voice crooned through my mind, a voice like starlight and I jolted at the intrusion, 'The shield can hide the smell of your arousal, Y/N, but it can't hide the lust in your eyes.'

"Rhys," Cassian grinned, canines bearing to show the blood coating his teeth, and Azriel laughed softly as the male wiggled his brows, eyes upon our High Lord as he stalked in. "Care to join the fun?"

Rhysand smirked, a lazy sight, ringed hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks and my body grew hot, mortification filling me as his long legs brought him closer to where I stood. His violet eyes flash to me- knowingly.

"I think Y/N might be more interested in joining actually," Rhysand mused, his tone dripping with amusement and teasing, and I felt my eyes narrow irately as I glared up at him. "I'm sure she could take it."

My hands clenched as Rhysand's smirk grew, pearly teeth peeking through, seeing how my throat bobbed when Cassian and Azriel both glanced at me expectantly, panting.

"Alright angel," Cassian winked, and I managed a strained smile, feeling my cheeks growing unbearable hot- and Rhysand laughing through my mind. "You're sparring next."

'If only he knew that this wasn't the kind of sparring you were interested in,' Rhys taunted through my mind and I felt his claws racking down my mental shields, so strong I clenched my jaw to stop myself from snarling at him.

'Fuck off, Rhys' I sent a shock of my power through my mind and Rhysand's spine straightened beside me, though that smirk never once left his lips. 'I don't know what you're even talking about.'

'No?' He muses and I roll my eyes as his shoulder brushes mine, my body so stiff as I grab hold of my water bottle, my fingers shaking and weak as I uncap the lid. 'So, you're not having some very naughty thoughts about my General and Spymaster right now?'

'No,' I gritted out mentally, hating how I was falling for the bait, hating that he could see just how caught off guard I was. My eyes flutter as Azriel grumbles, shadows coiling around his lean waist and broad shoulders as he and Cassian circle each other. 'No, I'm not.'

Another rumbling laugh through my mind, a brush of Rhysand's shoulder against me, and the water bottle shakes in my hand as I bring it to my mouth, needing to distract myself desperately.

The mouth of the bottle touches my lip, the lukewarm water just barely tracing my tongue- and then my mind shifts.

And the images leak in.

Scarred hands cupping my breasts, toying with my hard nipples.

Canines scrapping my pulse point, my fingers curled around silken locks of dark hair.

I hear myself moaning as a head slips between my soft thighs, my eyes clenching shut as I rock my hips against the skilled tongue, back arching when another mouth finds purchase around my taut nipple.

I'm trapped between those two magnificent, corded bodies, massive wings shielding our nakedness- but I feel every touch, every kiss, every whispered praise as they worship me.

"Y/N!"

Another blink and the images are gone from my mind, replaced by the world around me again. And three pairs of eyes on me- all of them wide, unblinking, worried as they watch me.

"What happened, sweetheart?" Azriel breathes, chest rising and falling fast as he sucks in air, and I trace over the dark whorls covering his skin as I blink away the thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"I'm uh- I'm fine," I clear my throat, skin burning with heat and that embarrassment only grows when I spot my water bottle dropped at my feet, water already drying up on the concrete. Rhysand snickers as I swiftly reach down and grab it and my hands tremble as I hold it to my chest.

'You should tell them what you want, Y/N,' Rhys mutters through my mind and when I glance sideways at him, he merely smiles, bland and natural, as if he wasn't currently wading through my thoughts. 'They'd be more than happy to make it happen.'

"I think I'm done for today, boys," I manage a small smile, as I turn to grab my training bag at my side, glad for the reprieve from their eyes, even if I felt them wholly on my back. "Too fucking hot out."

'Y/N,' Rhysand called through my mind again, and the teasing was gone- replaced by something sincere.

'They won't be interested,' I hiss back, a lump lodging in my throat as I turn toward the males behind me, still standing watching me. ' I'm not going to embarrass myself by saying something.'

"I thought you wanted to spar?" Cassian raises a dark brow at me, hazel eyes watching carefully as I walk past Rhysand, not sparing him a second glance. "I'll go easy on you if you're scared, angel."

"Didn't she kick your ass last time, Cass?" Rhysand snorted, and I watched Azriel's lips tilt into a full-blow smile, a breathtaking sight as Cassian rolled his eyes, grinning as he flipped off the male behind me.

'You're lying to yourself if you think they're not interested in you,' His voice made me grit my teeth, my back steeling as I inched toward the door. ' Why don't you just find out?'

"Don't rough each other up too bad," I chuckle, ignoring the ache in my chest as I glance between the three of them, ignoring Rhysand's claws in my mind, "Seeing your pretty faces is the best part of my day."

Cassian grins, winking fiendishly at me.

Azriel smiles, red tinting his cheeks.

And Rhysand just cocks his head- almost as if to say see, I told you so.

I turn on my heel, my smile fading as soon as my back is to them and I'm walking toward that exit.

'Drop it, Rhys,' I warn, letting him feel how utterly serious I was, 'I mean it.'

***

'You're lying to yourself if you think they're not interested in you.'

Rhysand didn't know how wrong he was.

It was kind of him, sweet even, to say that two males as beautiful and perfect as Azriel and Cassian would have any interest in me, any sexual desire- even if it couldn't be further from the truth.

Not when I didn't hold a candle to Mor, who they both wholly desired, whose face and body and beauty were incomparable, something that I couldn't have, have never had, not in a million years.

And not when in all the years I've known them, neither of them have ever looked at me the way they look at her- with true lust. No desire, no primitive focus, no carnal need, I was their little sister, the female they loved but could never love like that.

I swallow down that bitter dose of reality as I make my way through the silent corridors of the House of Wind, my heels clinking against the smooth floor, as I get closer to the dining room. There's no sound in the house, unusual for this time of day.

I run my hands down the soft silk dress I wore, the dark green material clinging to my waist before cascading down my thighs, stopping mid-calf. It was more effort than I usually bothered with for dinner with the court, but Rhysand had insisted.

'A special dinner' he had said in his note 'Never hurts to dress up and celebrate our family.'

But as I turn the corridor, pushing past the ajar dining room door- it doesn't seem like much of a celebration.

"Y/N," Cassian greets, smiling over his broad shoulder at me, the material of his black shirt melding perfectly to every hard inch of him. I take a few tentative steps into the room and his eyes grace down my figure, over the dress I wore.

"Hey Cass," I mutter, brow furrowing as I take in the two glasses of red wine, a third sat empty and clean beside them and only three chairs surrounded the oak table Cassian stood before. "Where is everyone?"

My body shivers when something dances around my right ankle, the touch unbearably soft and I giggle when I glance down, noticing the shadow that wreathed around my calf, inching higher up my dress.

"Feyre's cycle started so Rhys is looking after her," Cassian said, wincing in a way that told me he was thankful not to be a female enduring that kind of pain. An amused snort came from behind me, and I didn't need to turn to know that it was Azriel, could feel his quiet scrutiny and recognise it anywhere. "And Mor and Amren had some Hewn City crap to deal with."

"So much for dressing up and celebrating the family," I mumble taking a few steps forward, and when Azriel places his large hand on the small of my back, I feel the touch through every inch of my body. I swallow, glancing over my shoulder at him, meeting those bright hazel eyes.

"It's just us three tonight," Azriel muses lowly, and my dress feels like a non-existent barrier between his hand and my back, his scarred thumb brushing soft circles there. "Is that alright Y/N?"

"Y-yes," I mentally curse myself for the stutter, my cheeks blazing when Azriel's lip tilts into a bare smirk, his eyes glancing to Cassian and gleaming with something dark. I clear my throat, managing a strained smile, "Me and my two favourite Illyrian males, should be fun."

"We won't tell Rhysand you said that" Cassian winks and I grin as Azriel leads me forward, his hand still on my back, burning and igniting my skin, guiding me to the chair- he pulls it out for me, his touch gentle as he helps me take a seat and tucks me in.

"He's my favourite High Lord though, so it's fine," I tease, waving a dismissive hand and I try to force myself to be calm and at ease as Azriel and Cassian take the two seats in front of me, their powerful bodies so foreboding as they settle into the chairs.

"Feyre's my favourite High Lady, Mor's my favourite blonde," I prattle on, ignoring their intense stares as I fiddle with my hands in my laps, trying to babble through my unease. "And Amren's my favourite short, angry person."

"We definitely won't tell Amren you said that" Cassian snickers and I release a tight breath of relief when Azriel begins to pour me a glass of wine, his eyes locking with mine as he hands it to me- my hand brushes his and I swear something flashes through his eyes at the contact.

"Thank you," I whisper, and I don't waste a second before bringing the glass to my lips, my eyes fluttering shut as I tip my head back, the bittersweet liquid sliding down my throat, and I keep drinking until it's all gone.

I feel the tingle the alcohol induces instantly, fae wine so much stronger than the regular stuff and it's exactly the kind of buzz I needed right now, the kind that distracted me from the way my body felt when in the same room as these two males.

I bring the glass back down to the table with a clink and only then do I realise the tense silence in the room. I blink away the haze, and when my eyes meet Cass and Az again, I'm surprised by the look on their faces.

Their eyes are dark, wholly dark- and zeroed in on my lips, watching every breath and move with predatory focus.

"Is-is there something on my face?" I raise a brow, chuckling uncomfortably and when I lift a hand insecurely to my mouth, Cassian releases a tight exhale, shifting in his seat so that he's leaning back, long legs and strong thighs spread under the table.

"No, you're okay," Azriel shakes his head, beautiful face soft with contemplation, though the darkness never leaves his eyes, the emotion behind them that I can't seem to decipher as he stares at my lips still. "That's a pretty shade of red, is all- don't you think so Cassian?"

"Definitely," Cassian mumbles roughly in agreement, a lazy smile pulling at his lip as he takes a long sip from his glass, his tongue flicking out to lick off the wine gathering there- and the sight was more provocative than it should have been. "Red might just be your colour, angel."

"Thanks, uh- it was a present from Mor for Winter Solstice," I swallow thickly, fighting the urge to grab the wine bottle and chug from it. "She said it was one of the most popular shades, I can't remember the name, but I thought it was funny to call it blowjob red."

Cauldron, the air shifts so fast, so severely at those words- blowjob red.

The second I say it it's like the darkness in their eyes, the intensity of their stares, their teasing remarks, it all slots into place- and their shields come crashing down. Arousal, stark and powerful, so raw and filthy that my core ached in response.

"Is that why you wore it tonight?" Azriel spoke, his voice like death incarnate, so quietly violent that my thighs clamped shut at the sound, at the heat behind every slow word. The air caught in my lungs as he cocked his head at me, predator eying prey, "To have us contemplating the feel of your pretty, red mouth?"

Pretty, red mouth.

Cauldron, I must be dreaming.

My lips parted- surprised, and for a moment, all I could do was blink dumbly, staring between them with confusion creasing my brow. They didn't speak, utterly silent as they watched me piece everything together, but I could sense their amusement when my brow furrowed deeper.

"I suppose it's only fair, for you to paint your lips that distracting shade of red, to wear a dress that hugs every curve on your body, it's fair for you to taunt us so mercilessly," Cassian smirks and my eyes widen at every word, at the sincerity behind them. "Especially since it seems we unwittingly were doing the same to you this morning during training."

Training?

Oh, shit, shit, shit- Cauldron fucking spare me.

"Unless Rhysand was being an asshole and lied to us?" Cassian continued, but his words were starting to blur now, the thrumming in my head overwhelming my senses, making it hard to hear, making it hard to see, to speak. "Y/N, did he lie?"

He told them.

Fuck, he told them.

"Hey, hey, hey-" I flinch, my knee slamming against the table when something brushes over my hot cheek. Still, I calmed my alarm upon seeing the tendril of darkness flittering past my eye-line, Azriel's shadows caressing my face, anchoring me down from the panic that was building.

"I don't-uh-," I shake my head, tears lining my eyes and I clenched them shut- I wasn't sure why I felt like crying…embarrassment? Shame? Insecurity? I guess I could pick one and it would be right. "I don't know-"

"We were hoping he wasn't lying," Azriel coaxed gently, and my burning eyes lifted to him, his lovely face was so sweet, so unfathomably kind that it forced me to take a stabilising breath.

"You were?" I question hoarsely, my throat as dry as sandpaper as I glanced from Az to Cass, something coiling in me at the sight of their perfect faces, their broad shoulders, their massive wings, and their attention solely on me.

"Angel, if we haven't made it clear how badly we want you right now, then we must be shitter at flirting than I thought," Cassian snorted and I couldn't fight the smile, the breathy laugh that escaped me at his words.

He grinned at the sight, Azriel too- as if something as small as me smiling, laughing, made their day.

'You're lying to yourself if you think they're not interested in you.'

Dammit Rhysand was right.

"Rhysand wasn't lying, he's an ass but he didn't lie," I say, releasing a long breath and this time, when my eyes lift to them, when I meet their gazes, I let them see exactly how honest he had been.

I tuck a strand of hair behind an arched ear, and I don't think either of the males is even breathing as I push out of my chair, the wood screeching against the floor before I rise to my feet.

My chest aches as their gazes instantly drop down my body- over my breasts, waist, stomach, thighs, over every inch of me.

"I'm going back to my room," I whisper, and both of them go utterly still, and their eyes sharpen, primitive, completely Fae, so strong that Azriel's shadows quieten, and Cassian's wings twitch.

"Would the two of you care to join me?"

__________________________________________

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen @nyotamalfoy

Part TWO and all its filthy smut !

Comment to be added to the tag list!

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gardenoflupins · 26 days

Text

Bodyswap AU / @wolfstarmicrofic / 976 words

Remus should have known something was wrong.

He woke up feeling refreshed and strong which was unlikely after a full moon. When he inspected his arms he knew something bad had happened. There were no scars from the bites he had given himself last night. Along with this, he could see black hair falling down his shoulders.

He scrambled out of his warm bed to the closest mirror in the odd room he had woken up in.

Remus skidded to a halt when he was face to face with Sirius Black, looking at him with wild eyes and a heaving chest.

Remus’s mind ran with all sorts of horrible thoughts before he decided the mirror was cursed.

That was until he remembered he could literally see the difference in his body.

Spiralling with paranoia, Remus leaned against the mirror and stared at the wide, light grey eyes looking back in terror. Not an expression he has ever seen on Sirius.

It hits Remus coldly when he remembers Snape’s threat from the beginning of the week about how he was going to make Remus regret it when Remus told the headmaster that Snape found out his secret and was going to out him. Obviously, Dumbledore forbade it and Snape was left restless and bitter.

But this?

Turning Remus into the most popular boy, one he hardly knew, was ridiculous and futile. He changed Remus’s appearance, so what? At least now he was temporarily hot.

Remus evened out his breathing. This was fine. He would fix this before classes started. He leaned his back against the mirror and looked around the room. He took in the music posters and the way the room had unfamiliar things scattered around.

Worse, he saw James Potter blinking blearily from his own bed. Remus froze, thinking for the first time that maybe this wasn’t some type of fucked up polyjuice potion and that perhaps Snape had discovered a way to swap his body with someone elses.

The blatant reason blares through his mind. It was so someone else would take in their wounds and make the connection that Remus was a werewolf.

His hands began to shake. Who was he swapped with? Snape? Mulciber? Definitely with someone out to get him.

He’d run to the infirmary to see if he was right. As he darted to the door, James intercepted him. Remus hadn’t realised he had gotten up.

“Where are you off too? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he yawned.

Don’t reply, don’t reply, don’t reply.

What would Sirius say?

Sirius.

Where was Sirius?

It dawned on Remus that Snape had probably swapped his body with Sirius’s. Somehow, that was almost worse. His eyes fluttered shut.

“Nowhere,” he breathed.

Remus could not get rid of Sirius’s friends. They followed him everywhere and always pestered him with conversation. He was gnawing on a fork by lunch because he hadn’t seen Sirius all day and couldn’t visit the infirmary alone.

He could burst into tears from anxiety.

Surely, if things were horrible, a professor would have pulled him aside.

The more he waited, the more his paranoia grew. He couldn’t hide it from Sirius’s friends who watched him like hawks but didn’t press after how stressed he’d been the first time they tried.

“Can I sit here?” a voice asked from behind.

Remus stiffened, knowing that voice intimately. James and Peter looked curiously at the speaker. Slowly, Remus turned around, feeling faint and pale.

His own face stared at him with a raised brow. Sirius looked sickly in his body but he hid his pain well. Not waiting for his response, he flopped down next to Remus.

“Looking good, by the way.”

Remus cringed into himself and Sirius kicked him sharply under the table. Remus flinched. “Ah— thank you? I mean, I know.”

Sirius gave him a very unimpressed look with Remus’s evaluation of him. Remus chewed on his bottom lip, drawing Sirius’s gaze to it. Right, of course. He wasn’t in his own body. It was surreal to see himself sitting next to him with expressions he didn’t usually make. Those at least screamed Sirius Black.

Fortunately, Sirius ignored his usual group of friends who gawked openly. Remus didn’t know what he’d do if he went into his usual chatter with the boys. He could see that Sirius’s temperament today was reserved and displeased.

Sirius side eyed him. “Can I ask why?”

Remus looked at him with despair, this wasn’t his doing at all. “Snape,” he answered mournfully.

Sirius looked past him to glare hatefully at the Slytherin table. The snarl on his face was the harshest expression Remus had ever seen. “Stupid fucking cunt,” he snapped.

Remus jolted, not expecting it. He started worrying that Sirius was very unhappy to be in a werewolf’s body. He obviously knew what Remus was by now, especially if he spoke to Madam Pomfrey.

“Cruel, tactless, piece of shit,” Sirius listed with agitation. James and Peter stared at him with eyes wide with shock and glee. They would surely harass him later with gratitude. Brilliant.

“Let’s go to Mada—“ Sirius’s eyes flicker to his friends. “Miss McGonagall wants to talk to us about doing study sessions together.”

Remus caves in on himself. He was going to be in so much shit. He irrationally thought of Aurors waiting for him outside.

Sirius places a hand gently on his own and Remus looks into his kind eyes. “Hey, you’re alright, I promise. I’m going to fix this.” He casts another venomous look at the Slytherin table. “And I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Remus holds his breath. Perhaps, their shared hatred of Snape would save him. He lets Sirius tug him out of his chair and doesn’t let go of his hand, clasping it tightly for support. In response, Sirius rubs a thumb soothingly over it.

#lowkey want to write this in sirius’s pov #wolfstar #my fics #sirius x remus #remus lupin #sirius black #sirius/remus #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #body swap au #wolfstar body swap au #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar oneshot

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lovecite · 7 months

Text

Your Choice

Kyojuro Rengoku x y/n (fem reader)

It was the choice for any slayer if they wanted keep their blood line going. They dedicated their life to the cause of demon slaying and thus never had chances to settle and marry. Ever focusing on training and serving for the greater good.

But the more families sent their beloved son's to risk their lives the more they realized that their could be a possibility to the end of family lines. An out cry from the families of slain slayers almost made an end to new recruits. Why send our sons to death? You are not only killing them but you are killing our family!

So upon the idea of many of the higher ups it came down to this. Have the slayers and their family come up with a choice of an arranged marriage.

------This is an idea I thought about for demon slayer. Since it's set in a time of where most families required sons to continue their family bloodline by having children. And of course Zenitsu in the episode when he was trying to marry someone because he was going to "die" lol . So, written kinda choppy and fast so please excuse that! --This one was written by me--

theme song that helped my creative juices flow :

*****Princess Jellyfish - Opening - Just Between Us-******

Other songs that helped me get with it~~

Nonsense- Sabrina Carpenter

One & Only- Oliver Tree

Super Shy- NewJeans

Seven- Jung Kook

Your choice

*****🔥*****

You were sold by your family. They were promised if no slayer claimed you they would still be paid monthly. If a slayer claimed you ,she would be welcomed into the family of what ever slayer and your family again would be taken care of. It was a win win but you were the only loser here. And here your story starts of when you meet Kyojuro Rengoku

"I understand that my father has chosen a wife for me, ma'am. " A voice so loud declared . His very voice shook your core . How could someone be so loud? You were seated behind a white cream colored screen seated like a proper women would. Your head was bowed with a white veil draped over your head hiding your features.

You were dressed in the finest kimono's known to your family. A beautiful green emerald with a hint of yellow flowers. Your gaze focused on the grooves of the mat below you trying to focus your breathing because the drumming from your heart drowned out your hearing. This was it. You were going to finally be married and make your family finally proud.. But of course what that was your only choice.

"Y-yes your father and mother actually meet this way as well. One of the most beautiful of stories. It no wonder why your father fell so hard when she pass-" " Ah I see then most of beautiful women have been chosen for this." The boisterous voice interrupted the older women with a hint of an undertone of being bothered it seemed . Your heart felt uncomfortable in your own chest as you waited for this conversation to end. Every time you heard him it grew tighter and tighter.

You had been rejected once before by a Hashira. You could still remember his face being so pale and those blue eyes being so empty. He had wondered in wanting to be married. As soon as he had seen you he walked away with out another word a red blush faint on his cheeks as he walked ever so fast straight out.

Now it seemed all the other women called you a curse. Some making snarky comments to the head mistress of this compound. "She should be taken out back and sold." " I can't believe a pillar rejected her."

The word of a hashira rejecting her spread like wild fire to the other women. And so you heard the slayers had been told the rumors as well. Why? A man with white hair came to you as well. A scar from ear and over his nose. His eyes is what you remembered the most. So wide open as he searched your gaze. Stating he wanted to see why a stoic man would run off from such a beautiful women. He wanted some gossip to throw in the other man’s face but you had none to give. Which of course made the white haired man angry that he had traveled here and was leaving with no juicy gossip.

But it seemed not all had heeded the warning. Because here you sat on the other side of the white cream paper thin wall. Your to be husband on the other side. You dare not look up for fear of more bad luck.

"oh lord Rengoku just as your father!" the older women cackled at a joke the man had stated. Of course this was nothing new. This type of arrangement. It started when their were low numbers of demon slayers. Most wanting to be sure their blood line was not stopped due to being called for this noble deed. “I am honored my father has chosen me for this task. I must state that I do have a mission to go tomorrow. Will this take long?” He asked. A giggled escaped the women’s mouth. “Lord Rengoku , as you know upon signing the agreement you must stay 1 week with your wife. To be sure a heir is produced.” The older women countered. The man hummed . “My apologizes of course.” He responded. “And we have mapped out the girls cycle to be sure th-”

Your face felt hot within seconds at the women’s response. Of course they had to go into every detail but that did not mean you could not be embarrassed that your monthly’s details would be shared to your husband.

“Oh I understand of course what you are saying. It must be this week.” He stated his tone dialing down slightly in a whisper .

You carefully brought your head up slowly. You did not want to ring a single bell that was attached to the veil. Was it wrong for a women to know what her to be husband to look like? Through the veil you could see past the thin fabric and to the creamy white paper thin wall. A single candle on the other side lite and brought a shadow from the the two figures on the other side of this thin papered wall. The outline of the women who took care of us women looked like a big blob while a much thinner one sat in front of them.

You couldn't help but take in the shadows edges. His hair on top of his head seemed like the designs of a child's drawing of the sun. And he sat so proper up straight like a pin needle. Then the shadows moved. You quickly looked back down to the grooves of the mat below your legs. "I feel as if my heart will pounce out of my chest." blurted your so to be husband. The older women laughed before she pulled the sliding door to the side. Finally.

Would he too run off and leave you here?

You dare not bring your eyes upward until the older women ordered you too. So You sat there eyes focused on the floor. "oh yes. One of the most beautiful women we have here sir. A great pick from you father." the women claimed. You felt a tight grasp on your shoulder as you were pulled upwards from the floor. Your legs felt as If you had stepped on millions of needles due to the length of time you were seated. You let out a gasp as you were forced upward. Nearly falling back down a much more gentler grasp around your waist caught you.

"Do be careful how you step." He whispered . You hadn’t thought he was that close to you but when he spoke you could feel the warmth of his breathe on your cheek. You wanted to see him! Your eyes were covered by the damn veil and you struggled to take off the thin scrap of fabric. You could also feel him trying to swiftly take off the veil as well but the fabrics many layers made it hard.

“My faceless wife what a way to meet you.” He joked. "Oh here . Let me help!” the older women countered. The tug made your head go back awkwardly as she yanked it. You closed your eyes quickly as the fabric glided along your face.

“Father choose well. I approve !” Kyojuro remarked as if he were simply talking about a fabric item.

You stayed still in his grasp around your waist. He pulled you close to his chest your hands resting lightly over him. You could feel his every breathe below your palm. And his heart beating so fast. “I am happy once again we have made a great pairing within the Rengoku family!” The older women claimed as she clasped her hands together.

"I will write my father and give great thanks!” he stated as his firm hand around your waist tighten slightly. Your gaze hyper focused on his nice shaved chin. Your eyes shifted to his shoulders and could make out peaks of yellow blonde and red hair. "Please bring your gaze up to mine so that I may finally greet you." His tone soften when addressing you. He gripped your chin carefully with his thumb and pointer finger. He adjusted your head moving your head slightly back. Your gaze slowly taking in his face starting from his chin and then soon upwards.

You felt your breathing had stopped. His striking orange gaze piercing right through you. His bushy brows so pointed. His hair like the sun. His eyes closed as his head tilted slightly to the right and a smile appeared slowly across his face. "I am Kyojuro of the Rengoku family. My father has chosen well." He added to to his greeting. His eyes slowly opened very wide as they flickered like flames to take in your face. "Your kimono is very beautiful. If that is your favorite color I will buy more for you." He mumbled as his gaze fell down to your outfit. You still could not respond to him.

His expressions never wavering as he spoke. His eyes never breaking eye contact with you. " Do not fear me." He instructed as he allowed for you to catch your footing. His arm slipping back from around your waist and to his side. "This ceremony is very fast. Whatever you feel we should not do tell me." of course. If the slayer had accepted the girl it was as if the wedding had happened and they of course had to consummate the marriage. Thus falling into trying to have the child for the continued blood line this .

You however were told that you did not have a choice. So of course you took a step forward placing your hands over his chest. Never breaking out eye contact you slowly went on your tip toes and placed your lips over his. The flame Hashira seemed to pause. His eye brows almost hiding up into his hair line. His heart under your palms beating faster. You sat yourself back on your heels. "Your name?" he asked softly. "I am...."

Should I do another one 😍😍 or should I continue this story 🙃

#kyojuro x y/n #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny kyojuro #demon slayer #demonslayer #love #hashira #rengoku kyōjurō #kny rengoku #rengoku x reader #Youtube

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iamcautiouslyoptimistic · 5 months

Text

🦅Russell Adler Headcanons

{Author's Note} Since I'm literally obsessed with this man, I thought I'd post my headcanons for him. All of these are based off of his canon backstory and character with bits of my own speculation thrown in so nothing should be too out of left field here. I may end up posting more of my thoughts on him soon so we shall see. Hope y'all like it and I'd love to hear what you think, as well as any headcanons you guys might have! Tagging @littlemissclandestine for this since she's an Adler fan. Let me know if I did this man justice lol🤭

‼️Content Warning: swearing, suggestive themes‼️

~ ~ ~

-Badass asshole

-Takes awhile for him to soften enough to really love someone

-Flirtatious jerk when he has a crush

-Shows he cares through small actions that can be hard to notice, as well as vague, rather backhanded compliments

-Shamelessly stares from behind those glasses of his

-Thinks it’s really cute when you wear his shades but would never admit it

-Stylish with heavy 70s influence

-Probably modeled for a male fashion magazine at some point LMAO

-Definitely knows how to dance

-Seems like the type to meme a bit on British people (specifically Park lol)

-Very sarcastic, sometimes to the point that you don’t realize he’s actually joking because he's always so monotone

-Secretly loves Belgian waffles (this is a reference to that one Bruce Thomas TikTok lol)

-Has a soft spot for the Beach Boys (I mean, look at that 🎶bushy, bushy blonde hairdo🎶 of his)

-Since so many people have asked and teased him about it (I see y'all in the fandom and I will not accept this slander lol) -> his hair isn’t fake, it’s actually pretty soft, very bouncy, he likes styling it

-Very particular about his appearance as it is one of the few things that he can truly control

-Prefers cats over dogs

-Can get obsessive about certain things and lose himself to them (i.e. his search for Perseus) -> Mason quote: “He spent so long searching for Perseus, he didn’t notice when he lost himself.”

-Still struggles with PTSD from his time in Vietnam, which, alongside his obsession with finding Perseus, is what led to his divorce

-Carries a lot of guilt and regret that he doesn’t like to acknowledge

-Started smoking to cope with the trauma of war, now has a nicotine addiction; when he’s really stressed, he chain smokes like a chimney

-Gets restless if he doesn’t have a cigarette

-Doesn’t sleep well and when he does, he usually wakes up every few hours

-Scars - Shrapnel? Abuse? Torture? Animal attack? No one knows and he’ll never tell

-Kiss or trace those scars and he WILL melt

-Difficult for him to let his guard down

-Has a tendency to isolate himself -> Mason quote: "You were never alone, Adler. Only in your own stubborn head."

-Always wearing those damn glasses cuz STYLE but also to hide his eyes to remain as a sort of blank, emotionless slate to other people

-Absent parents who never showed him real love or support as he grew up so he struggles to do the same for others -> they were the reason he joined the army as soon as he turned 18

-When it comes to cuddling, he loves holding you against his chest and running his fingers along your arm, cheek, or through your hair; small but intimate actions like that are his favorite

-Doesn’t like to show emotions at all, even during more intimate moments; he needs some coaxing to relax in that way, which takes time

NSFW Below👇🏻 (it's really not too bad tho)

-Sit on his lap👀

-Will pin your wrists during the sexy times🫣

-EDGING & OVERSTIMULATION

-After his divorce, he's tended to view sex as more of a transaction where both parties are fulfilling needs for each other so he'd be selfish at first but as your relationship progresses, he'd become far more generous

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell adler x you #russell adler headcanons #call of duty black ops cold war #cod bocw #call of duty #cod #Ren's writing #mine mine mine

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weird-an · 1 year

Text

Argyle has expected a lot from Hawkins. To see the place where Jonathan grew up, to get to know more about a girl that's more witch than human and to get stoned out of his mind so he forgets all about burying a bunch of people in the desert.

He didn't expect that. To meet the highlight of his childhood, the boy he had his first kiss with, sloppy and rushed, the blonde menace that never knew when to stop.

But there he is. Billy Hargrove, sitting at the Byers kitchen table, next to a guy with a polo shirt and really great hair.

"That are Steve and Billy," Jonathan says and frowns when Argyle blurts out a "Wow!"

"Everything alright, Argyle?"

"I thought we only smoked weed." Argyle moves around the table.

Billy stays seated. Stares at him with his neon blue eyes that have been so often dulled by bruises or cuts. A few thin scars peek out from the collar of his shirt, a white shine on tanned skin. Argyle's stomach churns at that.

The prissy guy next to Billy -Steve- moves his arm a little, says something to Billy, so low only he can hear it. He puts his hand on Billy's thigh, or at least that's what Argyle thinks.

Argyle stands in front of Billy and he swears he can hear their laughter from years ago, from hiding under the pier and eating the world's worst tacos.

Argyle opens his arms and Billy stares at him like he did when Argyle tried to hug him for the first time. Unsure.

Argyle sighs and puts his arms around Billy, lifting him out of the chair even though he's way heavier than he remembered. Billy's wiggling in his arms, but Argyle doesn't let go.

"Still a struggle with you, my dude."

"Fuck off," Billy groans, but finally hugs him back. Sinks against him.

Steve snorts and Argyle grins. Seems like someone knows that too well.

"I thought I'd never get to do that again," Argyle says, lifting Billy a little higher before letting go.

"Me, too," Billy admits, a tiny smile on his lips.

"Thanks for taking care of him." Steve looks startled when Argyle pulls him into a hug, too.

"You're...welcome?"

"Hey, I'm not a fucking pet that -"

"Of course not," Argyle ruffles his hair. God, he hasn't done this in forever.

"A fucking menace that's what you are," Steve mumbles.

Billy huffs at that, blond curls disheveled, a crooked halo around his face.

Jonathan blinks at them, like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "I think I missed... everything?"

@ihni You wanted them to meet, so, here you go! <3

#billy hargrove deserved child hood crushes and friends and boyfriends and agsgahgqwhgw #i rewatched a few argyle scenes lately because I try to write him and he's the only guy freaking out!! when everybody else should too!#harringrove #billy x steve #argilly #billy hargrove #argyle #also hinted jargyle?! maybe?!#but i want argilly ?! too?!#love for everybody! yay #cali bros

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slut4thebroken · 11 months

Text

Chapter three: Deja Vu

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Arkham Knight/Jason Todd × Bruce's daughter!reader

Summary | Jason comes back from an unsuccessful mission, so this time you help him take his mind off it.

Warnings | Angst, smut, face fucking, deep throating, cuteness, ahhh

Words | 5.2 k

Notes | Should I add another smut scene after this chapter before it just goes straight to angst city?

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter two

When your eyes fluttered open and you reached out, your stomach dropped as you only felt sheets. Was it really just another dream? Instead of giving into the tears, you fully opened your eyes to look around. This is definitely not your room, so no, it wasn’t a dream. You all but breathed a sigh of relief. A note on the nightstand caught your eye and you sleepily reached for it.

I have to take care of something. I shouldn’t be gone long though, just a few hours max. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. -Jay

You found yourself smiling at the note, feeling giddy and light headed knowing that he really was back. He came back to you. When you read the note again, your smile started to fade. What was he taking care of? Part of you prayed it was anything but what you thought it was… But you really doubt that. The thought made your stomach twist. He’s not really going to kill your dad… right? He was just saying that out of anger? Would he even be able to? A lot have tried and none have been successful, but Jason has a lot of rage and you don’t know how much he trained before coming back.

You sat up in the bed, but quickly got up, too anxious to just sit and let your thoughts wander. You didn’t want to put your jeans back on so you instinctively grabbed a shirt from his closet. Before putting it on, you held it up to your face and inhaled deeply. It smells different. Still like Jason, but something’s not the same.

As you put it on, you couldn’t help but remember all the times you went into his room and just laid in his bed or hugged his clothes. You even refused to let Alfred wash his sheets. But eventually when the scent of his bed turned into your own, you just sobbed the entire night. After a while, when you forced yourself to start healing, you had Alfred lock his room up and hide the key. So sometimes you’d just end up sitting in the hallway against his door, stifling your cries so no one heard you.

You were too nervous to eat anything so you just grabbed some water and sat on the couch. You weren’t sure how much time had passed before the front door was being opened and slammed shut, making you flinch. Heavy steps grew closer until he was in the living room. He took off his helmet and threw it at the wall, then yelled, “Fuck!”

When he brought his hands up to pull his hair, you walked over to him. You gently placed a hand on his arm, making him flinch away and turn toward you. His eyes were red rimmed and blood shot, brows furrowed, and lips in a frown. You tentatively placed a hand on his cheek, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Talk to me.” You said softly, gaze trailing all over his face. His frown somehow deepened and he shook his head as he bit his quivering lip.

“I hate him.” Your heart ached when his voice broke. “I hate him and I want him dead, but-“ He cut himself off with a choked sob and you waited for him to continue. “But I’m too fucking weak that I can’t even do that.” He growled, ripping himself away from you. You silently breathed a sigh of relief.

“That doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong.” You said quietly, worried you’d say the wrong thing and upset him more.

“No it doesn’t.” He scoffed bitterly. “If I can’t even kill the man responsible for this,” He pointed to the large scar on his cheek, “that makes me weak.” Your brows furrowed at his words, not understanding who he’s talking about now. He seemed to pick up on your confusion though. “The only reason any of this shit fucking happened was because of him. I lost you because he left me there!” He yelled brokenly. You mulled his words over in your head, deciding how to go about this.

“I don’t know what.. he said to you to make you feel this way, but deep down you have to know that my dad wouldn’t do that. He loved you- loves you. Sure, he does a shit job of expressing it, but you have to know he does.” He started shaking his head again as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“No- no! You’re lying.”

“Jason… losing you.. broke him. He’d never admit it, but he hasn’t been the same since he lost you.”

“Stop.” He said lowly, not looking at you.

“It broke him almost as much as it broke me. He’s just better at hiding it and bottling it up. He- he looked for you, for months straight. That was all he did. The only reason he stopped was because Joker sent him a video of your death. And even then, Dick had to convince him that it was real.”

“Stop!” He brought his hands up to his hair, pulling as he started shaking his head again.

“Jason, you have to know deep down that I’m telling the truth.”

“Stop it! Stop- talking! Just stop-“ He yelled, finally looking at you. His eyes were wet with unshed tears, lips red from how hard he was biting them. You sighed- you’re not going to get anywhere with this in his current state.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore. You need time.”

“I don’t fucking need time and there’s nothing to talk about.” He spat. You did your best not to flinch at the harshness of his words.

“Okay.” You said softly. “How about I make us some food?” You just wanted to take his mind off if.

“I’m not hungry.” He muttered.

“Okay… Well, how about we take a shower? I know I feel a little gross from… you know.. and I’m sure you’re a little gross too.” You gave him a small smile, all but beaming when he returned it. He seemed to finally notice what you were wearing and his eyes widened in shock as his gaze trailed down your body.

“You’re wearing my shirt.” He muttered, almost to himself. Your cheeks flushed as you fidgeted with the fabric.

“Y-yeah. Sorry, I should’ve asked.” It was stupid of you to just immediately jump back into your old ways after all this time. Instead of responding, he grabbed the shirt and pulled you into his body. You landed against him with a gasp and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Keep wearing my clothes and you’re gonna have to live on my cock.”

“Is that supposed to make me not want to do it?” You smirked, sliding your hands up his chest to wrap around his shoulders.

“…No.” He mirrored your smirk, then leaned down to kiss you. This one was slow and passionate, filled with love and longing rather than desperation and hunger.

“Shower sex?” You rolled your eyes and playfully slapped his chest.

“No, Jason. Everytime we do that we never end up showering.” He gave you puppy dog eyes and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a loud rumbling noise from your stomach. He let out a dramatic sigh, making you smile.

“Fine. Normal shower, then you eat, then I fuck you.”

“Deal.”

You made your way to the bathroom and he started removing his clothes, but froze when you lifted the shirt over your head and let it drop to the ground. You could feel his eyes on you as you bent over to turn on the shower, making him let out a low groan.

“Princess…” He warned, making you turn back around to face him.

“Hm?” You asked, a saccharine smile on your face.

“If you expect me to uphold the deal, you need to stop teasing me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said innocently, making him scoff. “Now hurry up.” You said as you stepped into the shower. The warm water covered your body like a blanket and you closed your eyes with a smile as you stood under it. Two arms wrapped around you and you leaned back against his chest.

“Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?” You smirked, just barely pushing your ass back against his growing length. He moved his grip to your hips, squeezing hard enough that you’d probably bruise, and pulled you completely against his body.

“You’re lucky I care about your general health and wellbeing cause if I didn’t, I’d already have you on my cock.” He growled against your ear, making you shiver.

“See? Most selfless man I’ve ever met.” You turned around and placed your hands on his chest, but froze when you felt the scars. Instead of looking down, you forced yourself to keep your eyes on his as you swallowed thickly. Snaking a hand down his stomach, you only stopped when you reached his happy trail, giving him a chance to stop you. When he didn’t, you continued until you wrapped a hand around his length making him hiss.

“Baby…” You shushed him and pushed him back a little so you had room to get on your knees. When you looked up at him from the floor, he choked out a moan and ran his fingers through your hair. “Fuck- you don’t… you don’t have to, princess.”

“I want to.” You slowly started stroking him, waiting for his permission. “Please?” He all but went feral from that one word. Your gaze trailed down his body as you waited, only lingering on the scars for a moment before moving on. With his cock right in front of your face- red, leaking precum, almost throbbing- you were practically salivating at the thought of having him in your mouth again. “Please.” Your voice was so whiny that you knew if this was under normal circumstances, he would’ve dragged it out longer just to tease you.

“Okay, baby. Go ahead.” You dived forward, instantly enveloping the head of his cock in your mouth, flicking your tongue over it. Moaning at the taste, you took him in deeper and his grip tightened on your hair, but he didn’t try to control the pace like he used to. After bobbing your head a few times, you grew too impatient and pulled off.

“Jay, c’mon.” You whined.

“Fuck- are you sure?” He choked out, staring down at you with furrowed brows and half lidded eyes. Instead of responding, you wrapped your arms around his thighs and closed your lips around the tip, waiting.

He tentatively pushed your head down, stopping when he brushed the back of your throat, then pulled you back until only the tip was inside. He repeated that only a few more times before you impatiently pushed the back of his thighs toward you, letting him know you wanted more. You understood that he was trying to go slow and let you get used to his size again, but you didn’t want to go slow. You wanted him to fuck your face until you were drooling from both your mouth and your cunt.

He let out a low, breathy chuckle, then accommodated your request. Instead of fucking your face, he pulled your head down until his length brushed the back of your mouth, then continued until he breached your throat barrier.

“Fuck- oh my god.” He said through a moan, holding your head down. You did your best to breathe through your nose and not gag. He pulled your head back, then did it faster this time, making you choke as your vision grew blurry with tears. When he pulled you back again, he let you go all the way off his length and you lightly coughed as he stroked your hair.

“You doing okay?” He asked softly, making your stomach flutter. You nodded and looked up at him as you opened your mouth, ready for more. He gave you a proud smile and grabbed your hair with both hands before filling your mouth again. He started with bobbing your head up and down, letting you get used to it, then sped up. You managed to last for a few seconds before your gag reflex kicked in and he let you pull off of him.

“Don’t,” You cleared your throat when you heard how raspy your voice was. “Don’t let me pull off. I’ll pinch your thigh if it’s too much. Promise.” He let out a low groan and leaned down to press a brief kiss to your lips.

“So fucking good for me, aren’t you? My good girl.” He purred, making your cheeks heat up. All you could do was nod, making him release a low chuckle as he leaned back up. He pushed back in, starting a fast pace, and you did your best to breathe through your nose and relax. He held your head still as his hips bucked forward, growing more and more eager. When you choked and instinctively pulled away, his grip on your hair tightened, making you whimper in pain. You sputtered around him, trying to gain control of your gag reflex again, but he pulled you off before you could. As you panted, you watched as he stroked his cock in front of you teasingly. You whined and leaned forward, but his grip on your hair stopped you.

“You want it?” He said lowly, poorly concealing a smirk.

“Please, Jay.” Your voice was even more hoarse now.

“So needy. All this time apart made you forget your training?” He asked, tilting his head questioningly with an exaggerated frown that made your stomach twist.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, eyeing his cock. He yanked your head back uncomfortably until all you could see was his face and the ceiling.

“Speak up.” He spat, adding to your arousal.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke louder this time, but it was still a whimper.

“You’re lucky I don't feel like reminding you right now.” Before you could even think of a response, he was thrusting inside your mouth again, roughly bucking his hips against your face. You gagged and instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip was unmoving. So you placed your hands on the front of his thighs and tried to push yourself away from him. In retaliation, he turned you slightly until you were in front of the wall, then held your head against it as he continued wildly bucking his hips. The action almost made you come on the spot.

“Take it. You fuckin wanted it, so take it.” He growled. But despite his roughness, you knew if you pinched him, he would stop immediately.

Jason finally stopped bucking into your mouth and instead buried his cock all the way down your throat until your nose met his pelvis. You were trapped, unable to move back because of the wall and unable to move to the side because of his hands. And although you didn’t want to panic because you enjoyed this, your body didn’t understand that what was happening wasn’t a threat to your life. So you clawed at his thighs, trying to push him back as you struggled beneath him with tears filling your eyes. He was so deep that you could barely even choke.

When he finally pulled back, you took in a deep breath as you started coughing. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, readying yourself to continue, but his fingers lightly grabbed your chin to tilt your head up. The second you saw his face, you knew you were going to have to reassure him.

“I’m okay.” You rasped, clearing your throat. But he wasn’t convinced. “Promise, Jay. Would’ve pinched you if I wasn’t.” He seemed hesitant, but you knew he knew you were telling the truth.

“We don’t have to keep going. Or you can control the pace again or I can ease up. Whatever you want, baby.” He said, cupping your cheek. You leaned into the touch, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

“No.”

“…No?”

“No. Want you to use my mouth to get yourself off until you come down my throat.” He let out a choked moan and you could see his cock twitch out of the corner of your eye.

“Jesus- fuck… It won’t take long if you keep talking like that.” He said through a breath, making you smirk.

“Then do it already… Unless you can’t?” You were goading him. He knew that. But you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist it if you challenged him. And he didn’t.

“That’s cute. Keep that up, see where it gets you.” He raised his brows, waiting for your next move.

“By not doing it, you're proving what I said.” You shrugged. You knew that telling him to do something would make him want to do the opposite. But you also knew that he wanted nothing more than to put his cock back in your mouth. And it was fun watching him get frustrated while deciding what to do. He scoffed a laugh and looked away from you for a second. When he turned back to you, his jaw was clenched and eyes darkened.

“What happened to my good girl, huh? Where'd she go?” He all but pouted, making you falter.

“She got impatient.” You decided to keep up the act. He clicked his tongue in disagreement.

“I am gonna use your mouth to make myself come. And then we’re going to start your training again, since you seem to have forgotten everything.” He didn’t let you respond before roughly shoving his cock back in your mouth. You choked from the sudden thrust but somewhat recovered enough to handle the bucking of his hips. His pace was brutal and unrelenting as he held your head still against the wall to fuck you. He wasn’t deterred by the barrier of your throat, in fact, with each thrust he made sure to breach it. You could feel yourself beginning to gag, but tried to will it away, knowing that once you started it would be hard to stop.

“I wonder how long it took for you to forget everything. Or maybe… you still remember it and you’re just taking advantage of my desperation.” His voice was breathy, but his pace never even wavered. “Is that it, princess? You think you can act like a brat and get away with it because of how much I need you?” He didn’t even bother letting you try to answer as he chased his orgasm.

“You think that just because I missed you, I won’t punish you?” He scoffed, tightening his grip on your hair, making you whimper. “You have no idea how fucking wrong you are.” He hissed. “Because I missed that too. I missed the way you’d scream and cry and beg for my forgiveness.” Fuck- you missed that too. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll punish you soon enough.”

His thrusts grew more frenzied as you sputtered and choked on his cock. When he moved a hand from your hair to plug your nose, your eyes widened in fear and arousal. You let out a startled sound and he shushed you.

“You don’t need to breathe. All you need is my cock.” He cooed, then buried himself completely inside of you and froze. As your lungs started to burn and the tears in your eyes fell, you clawed at his thigh and his arm, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge. He just hissed at the way your nails dug into his skin, making his cock twitch in your mouth.

Even when the burn in your chest became almost unbearable and your eyes started to flutter shut, you still didn’t want to pinch him and make him actually stop. You trusted him to know your limits.

You were proven correct when he suddenly pulled out and removed his hand from your nose, before your eyes could fully shut. You took in a huge breath, heaving and coughing at his feet, watching him stroke his cock as he waited.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take it?” He cooed mockingly. Just like him, when you’re challenged, you become extra motivated to prove them wrong out of spite. You opened your mouth and waited, looking up at him through wet lashes with a glint in your eyes. Almost as if saying “screw you.”

He let out a dark chuckle and slapped his cock against your cheek a few times, smearing your spit on you. Even though your whole face burned red from embarrassment, it still went straight to your cunt. When he seemed satisfied with your humiliating state, he continued.

As he was fucking your face, his moans grew louder, signaling that he was close. And when you looked up at him while you gagged and cried, he just lost it. He mercilessly snapped his hips against your face until he pushed completely inside, basically holding your head still with his body rather than his hands now. The moans and whimpers he let out almost made you reach a hand down to your clit. You released a strangled sound when hot come hit the back of your throat, feeling his cock twitching inside of you as he tried to push in impossibly deeper.

When he slowly dragged his length out of your mouth, you couldn’t help the way you coughed and panted to catch your breath. He helped you to your feet, holding you up on your now wobbly knees, and pressed his lips to yours.

“Even better than I remember, baby. You’re so good to me. My good girl.” He gave you a small smile and all you could do in return was blush. But it didn’t seem like he expected a response.

After helping rinse you off and thoroughly teasing you about the state of your cunt and the way your arousal was coating your thighs, he helped wash your hair and body. You did the same to him, having to stand on your toes while he bent his knees so you could reach his hair. He helped you dry off then you both went to his room to get dressed. As he dug through his dresser, he tossed you a clean shirt and you blushed as you put it on. When you went to pick up your underwear, he stopped you. You rolled your eyes but tossed them back on the ground and watched him get dressed in a shirt and some sweatpants. He led you out to the kitchen and sat you down at the counter while he rummaged through the fridge.

“The Jason breakfast special?” He asked, making you smile as you recalled all the times he’d make you breakfast, even though Alfred always offered to do it for him.

“Of course.” You replied coyly. Then, “Is it morning?” Has it really been that long? You don’t know how long you were asleep for.

“Technically.”

“Technically?”

“It’s like 4 am.” You internally groaned at how fucked up your sleep schedule probably is now. Resting your arms on the counter, you leaned your chin on them and watched him. You’ve had a dream like this before. It was one of those uncommon happy dreams that fooled you for a second after you woke up. You’d open your eyes, a smile on your face, and turn to his side of the bed, then immediately have it all ripped away from you.

“What are you thinkin about?” He asked, starting to mix everything.

“Just… having deja vu.” You said quietly, focusing on watching him rather than your own thoughts.

“I remember the last time I made you these.” He said, breaking the silence again. “You complained to me the whole time about how Bruce wouldn’t let you get a cat.” He glanced at you with a smile and you laughed under your breath.

“Do you remember what I did after that?”

“Oh yeah. You “found one” and took it home, then tried to hide it. How you thought you could hide something from Batman was beyond me.” He chuckled, making your smile grow.

“I did find him!”

“Sure you did, baby.” To distract you, he handed you a few chocolate chips for you to snack on while you waited, like he used to all those years ago.

Only a few minutes later, you both were sitting on the couch, plates in hands, ready to eat. When you took the first bite, you let out a near pornographic moan at the familiar taste. You refused to eat chocolate chip pancakes the entire time he was gone because you didn’t want another reminder of what was taken away from you. Even though it’s one of your favorite foods.

“Oh my god.” You moaned with a mouthful of pancake.

“You are so gross you know that? Close your mouth.” Even though he reprimanded you, a small smile ghosted his lips.

“Never thought I’d hear that from you.” You snickered, still talking through a mouthful of food just to spite him. “God I missed these.” You groaned, swallowing, then taking another bite.

“Alfred didn’t make them for you?” He asked, giving you his full attention while yours stayed partially on your food.

“No. It’s not the same.” You weren’t sure if he knew you meant it wasn’t the same because it wasn’t him making it, or if he thought it was because they tasted different, but both were true. He didn’t say anything in response. Just hesitated before turning back to his food.

You were so fucking excited to wake up next to him and have lazy mornings while he made you pancakes and cuddled as you ate them. But part of you deep down felt that you were becoming too attached again, too quick. Was he on the same page as you about wanting to basically pick up where you left off? Would he even be able to do that? You still live in the manor and you like living with your dad since you rarely get to see him because he’s so busy.

“Jay?” You asked nervously, making him turn to face you again as he hummed in acknowlegement before swallowing his food. “Are you- I mean… Is this- fuck…” You wanted to ask if his intention was to stay with you because you were so fucking scared you’d lose him again. But you didn’t want to come on too strong.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” He asked hesitantly.

“What look?”

“Like you’re about to give me bad news or something.”

“What? No- That’s not,” You took in a deep breath, trying to just formulate one whole sentence. “I’m just… I’m scared.”

“Scared?”

“I don’t want to lose you again. I can’t. And if this,” you gestured between the two of you, “isn’t serious to you and you just missed me, I can’t- I… I can’t lose you again. I really don’t think I’d be able to do it again.” Even though you were mostly talking about him leaving you while still alive, a small part of you was still terrified he’d be taken from you in death again.

“Hey,” He took your hand in his, making you turn to face him. “You’re not gonna lose me ever again, okay? I promise.”

“You can’t promise that, Jay.” He sighed and looked away from you, probably deciding what to say.

“You’re right, I can’t. But I can promise you that the only thing that could take me from you again is death, and I have no intention of dying any time soon.” His words only soothed you a little bit. Then, “Honestly if I didn’t know that you don’t want to marry, I would propose.” You froze, breath caught in your throat, eyes wide.

“You would?” You asked, still staring at him in shock.

“I’m done wasting time. We don’t have enough of it to do that. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. And I kind of knew that before, but the last couple of years… They made me realize that I can’t live without you and I don’t want to live without you.” You were talking before he could finish.

“I want to marry you.” You said through a breath. This time, his eyes widened in shock.

“You do?” You nodded, a giddy smile forming on your lips. “But I thought you never wanted to marry.”

“That was before I met you. I still don’t know if I want a whole big thing, but I want to marry you.”

“Are you fucking with me? Because I swear to god,”

“I’m not. I want to marry you, Jason Todd.” You looked him dead in his eyes to convey how serious you were.

“We’re getting married?” He asked, in shock. “Oh my god we’re getting married!”

“Hold your horses, cowboy. I may not want a big white wedding but you still gotta propose. And I’m talking flowers, a fancy dinner, the perfect scenery, everything.” You were teasing him, but the thought did fill your stomach with butterflies.

“I am going to give you the greatest proposal in the history of proposals. It’s gonna be so good they’ll make a movie about it.” That made you snort a laugh.

“You’re setting the bar really high, I hope you know that.”

The rest of your meal was filled with lovesick smiles and happy thoughts. When you finished eating, he placed your legs over his lap and wrapped an arm around you as you snuggled into his chest.

“Mrs. Todd.” He muttered, catching your attention.

“What makes you think I’m taking your last name?” You asked, looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Well I’m sure as hell not taking your last name.” Fair. “Plus Mrs. Wayne-Todd just sounds weird.” He’s not wrong about that.

“Mrs. Todd.” You said under your breath, trying it out. “Feels weird. But good weird.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Plus I never liked having this last name. People treat me differently after they find out what it is.”

“That tends to happen when your father is a billionaire. You poor thing- How did you ever manage to grow up like this?” He was mocking you, so you playfully slapped his chest.

“Shut up. I’m being serious. I don’t even have friends except for Dick.” You swore you felt him stiffen at the mention of his brother. “And Alfred. But calling him my friend might be worse than saying I only have one.” You chuckled, making him let out a quiet laugh.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly, kissing the top of your head. “Maybe being Mrs. Todd will get you some genuine friends.” He chuckled and even though the words themselves sounded like an insult, you knew he truly was hoping that would be the case.

You fell into a comfortable silence and as you laid your head back on his chest, the steady beating of his heart was slowly lulling you to sleep. While part of you didn’t want to fall asleep again, a larger part realized that you’re not afraid to fall asleep anymore. Instead, the thought of falling asleep with your head on his chest brought a smile to your face and made it all the more inviting. So you let your eyes fall shut, listening to the slow beating of his heart, smelling him and not just on his clothes- on his body. Relishing in the fact that he’s really here.

Chapter four

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