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reiding-writing · 3 months

Note

hiii, i hope you're well! i saw that you are taking requests for spencer and i really like your angst fics so i was wondering if you could write one with unrequited love?

preferably bau!reader who has feelings for him but he doesn't and she watches him get with someone else and everybody knows how she feels about him but he is oblivious, ending is up to you but i love me a sad ending heheh 😸

transgression [ s.r ]

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. He’s in love with somebody else.

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE MAEVE ARC, LOTS of misunderstanding, Spencer is kind of a bad friend, lots of arguing, major character death

spencer reid x gn!reader || ANGST || 8.2k || masterlist!!

a/n: sorry for the delay, but i did warn you it was gonna be long so- also i listened to ceilings on repeat whilst writing this so take that as you will 🫶

did i bend the maeve arc to my will for this fic? yes. yes i did.

taglist (slashed blogs couldn’t be tagged): @babyspiderling @marsxoxo2 @vytvyvy @hpstuff244444 @frostooo @ohmysw33 @radioactiveinvisible @devilsadvcte @the-local-pendeja @kakashis-formal-simp @robinswrld

You suppose you did it to yourself.

Spencer’s migraines had gotten increasingly worse over the last few months, and after a few consecutive days of hounding him, he’d finally decided to go and see a medical professional about it.

You’d expected him to come back with news about how his brain stem was too active from how hard he was working himself, or that he’d managed to raise his blood pressure to an unhealthy high from all the stress he was under.

Instead he’d told you that they couldn’t find anything physically wrong with him and that he’d been referred to a geneticist to check if the cause of his sudden mind-numbing aching was due to an underlying condition that might have been passed down from his mother.

He’d come back and forth to you for weeks about his phone calls with the doctor.

How she was helping him with his sleep deprivation.

How she was helping to manage his diet.

How she loved classic literature.

How she and him had spent four consecutive hours on the phone debating over the logistics of a novel they both enjoyed.

You could see the change happening before your eyes, and you weren’t the only one either.

“Pretty boy’s chipper this morning,” Morgan joins you at the kitchenette, his eyes following Spencer as he takes a seat at his desk with all of the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy who’d been let off his leash for the first time.

You hum with a nod, focusing your attention on the two cups of coffee you were making, heaping tablespoons of sugar into Spencer’s Doctor Who mug to satisfy his insatiable need for sweetness. “They’re reading a book together,”

“Really?” You respond to Morgan’s raised eyebrow with a short nod and another hum.

“Thoughts in Solitude by Thomas Merton, apparently she finds the religious analysis ‘fascinating’,” You can’t help the small contemptment that seeps into your tone as you reiterate what Spencer had told you to Morgan, and you can practically feel his pitiful gaze as he watches you make your coffee.

“I’ve heard of that book before from somewhere,”

“I tried to get him to read it a few months ago,” You take a sip of your coffee at the end of your sentence, barely able to taste it over the scolding water but not finding the mind to care.

You leave your conversation with Morgan at that, taking the two mugs in your hands and walking back into the bullpen, placing Spencer’s mug in front of him and walking around the cluster of desks to reach your own.

He’s sure he doesn’t need to verbalise it, but Morgan feels increasingly sorry for your situation, noting how you skirt past Spencer’s “thank you” without a response as you bury your head in your files.

he can’t imagine how much the fact that Spencer had seemingly formed a crush on his geneticist ripped you apart.

And the worst part? He’d never met her in person.

All scientific laws of attraction be damned, Spencer Reid had fallen in love with someone he’d never met in the span of three months, and you we’re resigning yourself to sit on the sidelines and watch as the man you had been in love with for six years find the happiness that you longed for with somebody else.

How you managed to keep up your facade you didn’t know.

You’d offered him change for the pay phone he’d call her from when he was running short. You’d let him rant to you about her opinions on a novel that you had failed to get him to read. You made excuses for him to leave the office early so that he could spend his time on the phone with her.

You were the one that sent him to the hospital and caused him to meet her in the first place.

He never hesitated to remind you of that fact, thanking you vicariously every time he relayed his conversations with the doctor back to you.

As the weeks progressed he stopped calling her that. She wasn’t ‘the doctor’ anymore. She was Maeve.

He didn’t call you by your first name and you’d known him for ten times longer that he’d known her. He didn’t even call Morgan by his first name and those two were practically brothers.

And that part was probably what hurt the most.

Maeve.

A name of Irish origin meaning ‘intoxicating’. How fitting.

Apparently the Irish goddess of love and desire was named Maeve. You could see the glimmer in Spencer’s eye that told you his Maeve was just as important as the mythological goddess he was describing.

His Maeve.

“So why haven’t you two actually gone on a date or anything?” You take a sip from the mug in your hands, swivelling your chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot. “You’ve been talking for what, four months now? Surely it’s about time you actually met her in person,”

“It’s complicated,” Spencer sighs as he collects the loose papers he was working on in a pile. He didn’t want to divulge Maeve’s issues without her permission.

“You’ve been saying that for the last six weeks Spencer,” You roll your eyes as you discard your half-empty mug on the table. “If I didn’t know any better i’d say you’re putting it off,”

Spencer shook his head adamantly at your suggestion. You couldn’t have been more wrong. He did want to meet her. Desperately. He’d wanted to meet her since the end of their first phone call. But he also wanted to keep her safe.

How do you meet up with somebody who’s hiding from a stalker without endangering them?

“I do want to meet her. It’s just- she’s dealing with something personal and it’s put a rift our plans, that’s all,”

“So it’s her not wanting to meet up with you then?” You raise an eyebrow at him over your desks.

“Look it’s- You don’t get it okay? It was a mutual understanding from both of us.” You can hear Spencer’s tone become more defensive as you spoke, and you raised both of your hands in surrender.

“Okay, i’m sorry for prying-” You ended your apology with a laugh, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite feeling your heart deflate in your chest at the way the friendliness his his eyes fizzled out the longer you looked at him.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer’s late to work this morning.

It’s 8:06 when he finally walks through the glass doors, the coffee you made him stone cold after sitting lamely on his desk for the better part of twenty minutes. He doesn’t so much as offer an apology as he picks up the mug and makes his way over to the kitchenette to pour the coffee down the sink.

You follow behind him in a mix of intrigue and a want to refill your own mug, swilling it out with some water as you watch Spencer load a coffee pod into the machine. “Phone call last longer than you expected?”

“Hm? Oh- yeah, we were discussing the literary analysis of Annabelle Lee,” Spencer’s demeanour seems to brighten immediately once he’s given an opportunity to discuss the details of his phone call with Maeve, although the beginning of his ramble is quickly cut off by the beeping of the coffee machine.

You wait patiently for his coffee to finish before you begin making yours, raising an eyebrow as Spencer pulls out a regular teaspoon instead of the usual tablespoon he’d incorrectly use to load his coffee with sugar.

Your intrigue only heightened when he pulled a carton of milk from the mini-fridge. Not even normal milk. Soy milk.

“Since when do you drink coffee like a normal person?”

His eyes flickered from his mug to your face as he tipped a single teaspoon of sugar into his drink before replacing the bag back where it came from. “It’s a part of my managed diet, Maeve thinks that my increased sugar intake might be one of the risk factors for my headaches,”

“Did she tell you to put soy milk in it too?” You don’t know why you have the urge to be petty, Spencer had long since needed to change his coffee drinking habits for the sake of decreasing his sugar intake and Maeve’s suggestions were beneficial for his health.

It was just the fact that it was her that ticked you off.

“She did actually, it provides the same amount of riboflavin as cow’s milk, which acts as a soothing agent whilst also helping constrict inflamed blood vessels, but without all of the excess fats in regular milk that might make my migraines more frequent, it’s genius really,”

He thought that her ideas were genius. Him. Mr ‘I have three PhDs and an IQ of 187’, thought someone else’s ideas were genius.

You’re sure that he already knew the benefits of milk alternatives, and yet he attributed the ‘revelation’ of what they could do to Maeve. Of course he did.

“When was the last time you made a decision for yourself?” The question comes out much harsher than you intend it to, and you can tell by the way Spencer furrows his eyebrows that he’s taken offence to it.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” No it didn’t. “I’m just a little surprised that someone as independent as you is so… willing to follow blind instructions,” Your attempt at saving yourself half-works, that wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears and you can see that the glimmer in his eyes is returning slowly.

“She’s a doctor, of course i’m going to follow her suggestions,”

You give him a soft nod as you pick up your mug from under the coffee machine. “Yeah, no, that makes sense, it’s just a little surprising is all,”

You don’t give him a chance to respond to you before you’re walking away from the kitchenette to retake a seat at your desk, fearing you might say something out of pocket if you continue the conversation any longer.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were really pissed off now.

You’d arrived back in Quantico three days ago, and you were still piled up to your neck in paperwork.

Maybe you would’ve had it finished by now if Spencer would stop talking about the fact that he was “-finally going to meet Maeve in person,”.

You had half the mind to snap and tell him to just shut up, although by the saving grace of Morgan you thankfully didn’t have to.

“Reid, give their poor ears a break man,” Your thankful for Morgan in times like this. He knew you were knee-deep in your feelings for Spencer, and he knew that every time Spencer so much as spoke Maeve’s name it carved another hairline fracture in your heart.

You were close to shattering, and Morgan could tell.

“Oh- right, sorry,” Spencer offered you an awkward smile which you mirrored back at him.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it,” You shake your head in a polite dismissal of his apology before turning your head back down towards your files.

“I take it you’re nervous then?” Alex’s voice cut through the beginning of an awkward tension between the two of you as she entered to bullpen with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Well- I mean- you know…” Upon being unable to find a sufficient response, Spencer resorts to shrugging into his chair. “I just don’t want to ruin anything,”

“But aren’t you curious what she looks like?” Alex raises an eyebrow with concern like Spencer was he son going on his first ever date.

“it doesn’t matter what she looks like I mean- she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me it’s just-”

You don’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation.

You sudden upheaval from your desk stops Spencer’s sentence as his eyes follow you across the bullpen and out of the glass doors, followed shortly by Morgan as he jogs after you.

“Hey- Wait up a minute-” Morgan catches your arm before you have a chance to get in the elevator, and as you turn your eyes towards him he can see the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..”

Morgan can do nothing more than pull your head into his shoulder and wrap his arms tightly around your back with a soft mutter of your name. “I know kid, I know…”

“He thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” You turn your head up from Morgan’s shoulder to meet his eyes, a single stray tear cascading down your cheek, illuminated under the florescent lights. “How am I supposed to compete with that..?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Incidentally, Spencer’s date with Maeve didn’t end up happening. Conflicting work schedules or something, you weren’t really listening.

Maybe all of your subconscious thoughts had leaked into reality and finally gave you momentary release from the crushing defeat of having Spencer go on a date with someone else.

Maybe it was them punishing you further by forcing you to sit through him rant about the book she’d left him at the front of the restaurant.

It didn’t help that you already had a headache that made it feel like your eye sockets were being kicked by an annoying kid sat behind you on an aeroplane, leaving a dull ache in it’s wake and making you just want to bury yourself in a hole and hibernate.

“And right at the back she wrote ’Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another’ it’s a quote from-”

“Thomas Merton. Yeah, I know.” You dig the knuckle of your left thumb into cavity of your eye socket over your closed eyelid, hoping to relieve some of the tension that’s lingering there and disrupting your thoughts.

“Thomas Merton’s ‘Love and Living’ specifically,” If Spencer noticed your discomfort he didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s a collection of his essays on the importance of love to live, so for her to have written it specifically knowing that I would read it means-”

“Reid.”

Your tone stops him from continuing any further, and he blinks at you with that sweet puppy-dog expression that would usually have you weak at the knees.

“No offence, but I don’t care about your over-the-phone girlfriend or the quote that she wrote in your book.” Your tone carried a harshness to it that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing from you. It was cold and detached and not like you at all.

“Are- you okay?”

“No, Reid, I’m not, and if you’d bothered to ask about my life every once in a while instead of using me like a human diary maybe you would’ve realised that already.”

You practically slam your file closed as you speak, pushing your chair out from your desk and leaving him sat in shock at your sudden change in attitude.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

After a bit of introspection, Spencer did realise that he hadn’t been treating you very fairly. He hadn’t asked you how your life had been in 3 months and 26 days. Four of those days he’d spent in damn near radio silence. He wasn’t sure he could take it much longer.

He missed you.

It was a bit ironic considering you sat directly opposite him for almost eight hours a day five days a week, but after you’d snapped at him last week, he truly realised just how much of his day he spent socialising with you, and just how much he missed talking to you.

So he decided that he was going to apologise.

And what better form of an apology for being dismissive of your feelings than putting a personal effort into something for you.

He walked into the office that morning with a leather bound copy of The Parasite by Arthur Conan Doyle stored cautiously in his messenger bag, pages scrawled with annotations from Spencer’s own reading of the novel that he hoped would be insightful to you as you read it yourself.

He’d remembered you saying how much you wanted to read the novel a few months ago, so he figured giving it to you as a personalised apology would show that he really did care about you and had listened to what you’d told him.

“Are you busy?” Spencer asks, though he already knows the answer to the question.

He’d been watching you from the other side of the room all morning, hoping for a moment or two of eye contact to see if there was a possibility of a conversation. A look from one to the other; even a smile would’ve been enough to make him feel validated and content. And he would have been willing to settle for that.

But you never looked up. Not even once.

"Mhm," You continue to not spare Spencer so much as glance as he speaks, turning over the page of the file you were working through.

“Can I take a minute of your time?” He tried to catch your gaze again, only to be met by your continued focus on your work. The last thing he wanted to do was disrupt your work routine, but he also knew that he needed to talk to you sooner rather than later.

“Please,” he said softly. “It’s important.”

You exhale heavily through your nose, exasperation written clearly in your expression as you leave your pen as a page marker to close the manilla folder on your desk. You turn your head upwards, raising an eyebrow and opening your hands to agitatedly indicate for him to continue.

You wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt being so openly cold towards Spencer, but you’d reached a breaking point, and you couldn’t bare sitting idly on the sidelines and letting him tear your heart to pieces anymore.

Spencer was relieved that you’d granted him your attention, but the look you directed towards him was enough to make him wince. You weren’t looking at him through a lens of indifference but rather cold, hard disappointment.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather the right words for what he had to say.

“I’m sorry,”

He seemed almost breathless as he spoke, like he’d just finished a tangent about something without taking the time to breathe. “I know that I’ve been spending too much time talking about Maeve and not enough paying attention to you.”

"You don’t say," You mutter the words under your breath to yourself, but your sure that Spencer heard you based on the way his eyebrows knit and the small gleam of hope in his eyes dwindles to barely a flicker.

He was trying not to react to your snide comment. Spencer knew that your tone didn’t leave any room to deny your meaning. He’d been selfish in talking exclusively about his relationship and hadn’t realised how it was affecting you.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer repeated. “You mean so much to me and I haven’t been showing that.”

"Thank you," Your thanks are polite but dismissive, like you were acknowledging his apology but choosing to not actually consider it as one, and it left Spencer with an expression of clear frustration.

He was used to being able to read your facial expressions and emotions in the past, but now you were just an unreadable wall of disappointment. He had hoped the apology would've been enough, but it was clear that you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

Time to pull out the last resort.

He bent over and fumbled with his bag for a few moments before pulling out the novel he’d brought with him face up.

“I uh… got you this,” He holds out the book towards you. “You said you wanted to read it right? So I uh.. annotated it for you to make it more enjoyable,”

You take the novel from him with a raised eyebrow as your eyes scan the cover, a clear flicker of confusion in your expression.

Spencer noticed your expression and furrowed his own brow in confusion. You didn't seem to recognise the book. In fact, the look on your face made him wonder whether you even knew this book existed at all before this moment.

“I hope you… like it,” he said nervously. “I was going off what you'd talked about before. You mentioned the book was a classic?”

"I… have never seen this book in my life,”

“B-But…” Spencer knew this was going to be awkward at some point, but he'd hoped not this early into the conversation. He could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment, and it was only getting worse as he searched your face for an answer to this awkward situation.

“I… swear I heard you mention it once.”

You give him a short shake of your head and a pursed smile of awkward thanks as you put the book down on your desk.

Spencer looked away, embarrassed beyond belief. He hadn't even been able to deliver an apology properly, let alone make you feel special like he'd originally intended to.

How had he gotten it wrong? He had an eidetic memory for god’s sake.

When you put the book down on your desk, his eyes flicked back to the book. He'd spent almost 4 hours annotating and researching it and now it felt like all that effort had been wasted.

If you hadn’t mentioned it then who had? Someone must’ve. Someone he obviously equated with you to the point where he’d somehow managed to override his eidetic memory to mix the two of you up.

It takes him a few moments before you hear him whisper out a name under his breath, the palm of his hand dragging down the front of his face at the realisation.

"Maeve…"

The mention of her name had your eyes flickering away from the leather cover and right back to Spencer’s face, awkwardness completely rid of your features and replaced with a mix of negativity that Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to dig into.

"Are you serious?" Your words come out less questioningly and more accusatory, and you hold the book up so that he can see it once more, the gold embossing on the cover glinting under the overhead light as if to only taunt Spencer further for his mistake.

“You apologise for continuously disregarding me for your girlfriend by giving me a book that she showed interest in?”

You could see Spencer's face fall as your words sink in.

He hadn't even taken the time to think over what he was apologising with. It was almost as if his brain automatically just reverted back to his girlfriend's interests as an escape from dealing with his own guilt and sadness.

"Damn it," he whispered to himself. And in that moment he realised he'd just committed the biggest crime someone could make when trying to apologise.

“Like you constantly flaunting your relationship in my face verbally wasn’t bad enough.”

"I'm sorry I-" he says again, voice teeming with sincerity and guilt.

"You are truly and utterly unbelievable Spencer Reid." Your words didn’t carry anger as much as they did disappointment, and he could see the astoundment in your eyes as you pushed your chair backwards to stand, dropping the book straight in the trash bin by your desk before walking off.

It’s where it belongs; Right alongside the small sliver of respect you still had for him.

Spencer could've said so much more: he could've admitted how ashamed he felt for his careless actions and he could've apologised again and again a million times if it meant you'd stick around and give him a chance to make it up to you.

But you had already made it clear that you weren't in the right state of mind to discuss this matter further.

The best thing he could do now was give you space as he watched you walk away, a deep pain in his heart that slowly ate him alive from the inside.

He’d well and truly fucked up.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You were bordering tears by the time you reached Garcia’s office, unintentionally interrupting her lunch break with Alex in the process, though the two seemed to care less about the interruption and more about the fact that you liked like you were about to cry your eyes out.

You take in a sharp breath through your nose as you try to tape together the cracks in your composure, although with every one you seal three more seem to appear in it’s place.

“I-” You can barely get the first word out before the tears start rolling down your face, and Alex immediately stands from her seat to guide you to sit in her place.

“Hey, you’re alright, slowly,” Alex’s hands find your shoulders and rub reassuring circles against your shirt. The slow breath you take in doesn’t stop the flood of tears that’s blurring your vision, and you only manage to get out a single word, but it’s all the two need to understand what’s got you so overwhelmed.

“Spencer-”

“I swear I am two seconds away from smacking that boy over the back of the head,” You can hear the clear frustration in Garcia’s tone. “Surely he’s got to realise how much he’s hurting you by now,”

“He does… I lashed out at him and then left to come here…” You rub your eyes with the back of your hand alongside a small sniffle, trying to rid your vision of it’s blurriness from your tears.

“Good, the boy deserves to have some sense knocked into him,” You appreciate Garcia taking your side, but you can’t help that small lingering feeling of guilt that invades the back of your mind.

“He’s just in love, it’s not his fault…” The words almost physically pain you to say. The verbal acceptance that Spencer Reid was indeed in love with somebody. Somebody who wasn’t you.

“That doesn’t mean that he should be disregarding you though sweetheart,” Alex’s tone is soft and almost maternal, and your sure that it doesn’t help how emotional you are.

Garcia’s right hand reaches forward to straighten out the collar of your shirt, unintentionally crumpled as you try to wipe your face of your emotions. “You’re his friend, and you have been his friend for longer than he’s known this girl he’s talking to, it’s not fair for him to completely push you to the side,”

Garcia was right. It’s not fair. Nothing about how Spencer had been treating you since he’d started speaking to Maeve had been fair. And you were done making excuses for the boy just because you knees deep in your feelings for him.

You didn’t deserve to feel guilty. You didn’t deserve to feel bad for lashing out at Spencer for apologising for not showing interest in your life by further proving just how little he’d actually payed attention to you. You didn’t deserve to cry because he was the most stupid genius to ever live and couldn’t see that you were hopelessly in love with him. You didn’t deserve to suffer by his hand.

It wasn’t fair.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Maeve’s been kidnapped.”

You have to consciously suppress the small voice in the back of your head that celebrates the possibility that she might not be a part of Spencer’s life for much longer. It’s a horrible thought. You should never wish ill upon anyone, no matter how much you internally despised them.

Still, that part of you that was still petty, that was still infuriated with Spencer and Maeve, wanted you to tell Spencer straight to his face that you weren’t going to help him find her and that it was karma for how he’d treated you.

But you weren’t a bad person.

As much as you might hate her, she was still important to Spencer.

“I have a wealth of knowledge i should be applying to this case, but- i can’t focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time… which makes me the dumbest person in the room-” Spencer’s eyes are full of desperation as they scan across your teammates.

“So please help me… Please help me find her…” The desperation in his voice is heartbreaking, the remnants of tears staining his face as he explains the context of the situation through broken sentences.

“We don’t have an official case, so we’ll be working on personal time,” Hotch’s voice is much quieter than you’re used to. Softer, more considerate. “Does anybody want to leave?”

You can feel his eyes linger on you as he asks the question, and you subconsciously purse your mouth into a tight line to stop yourself from impulsively pulling out of the investigation.

You might be detrimentally frustrated with him, but you did want to help. Even if it ultimately resulted in your downfall.

Hotch gave you a short nod before turning to the rest of the team. “Good, let’s get to work,”

It didn’t take Garcia very long to track Maeve down, mostly attributed to her unique name and specialised job.

Dr. Maeve Donovan, a professor at Mendel University who took a sabbatical leave 10 months ago.

The group split into different groups once they’d found her, JJ and Morgan heading off to a loft her parents owned, Alex and Rossi heading to the lab she used to work at, and you and Hotch, accompanied by Spencer, going to speak to Maeve’s parents.

“Reid,” Garcia’s tone is soft as she looks over her laptop screen towards him as he begins to stand from the conference table. “I have a picture of her, do you want to know what she looks like?”

“No,”

Spencer’s answer is immediate, joined by a shake of his head.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You and Spencer watched from behind the one way mirror as the interview progressed.

They’d last spoken to Maeve five days ago. Her mother had cancer. She was also a geneticist. They were suspicious of her ex fiancé Bobby.

Her fiancé?

You can see Spencer’s face drop at the words despite the low lighting in the room, and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows yourself.

She had a fiancé?

Spencer practically storms out of the office after the questioning is over, and Hotch has to remind him to calm down as they reach the apartment of Robert Putnam with Morgan and Rossi in tow.

When the door opens the five of you aren’t greeted by Robert, but rather a girl, a girl who looked very confused.

You invite yourselves inside at the girl’s recognition that Robert was inside the apartment.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Diane, his girlfriend,” She raised an eyebrow as the five of you looked around, confusion cut short as Robert rounds the corner questioning the sudden voices coming from his living room.

“Hey babe what’s-“

“Robert Putnam, FBI we’d like to-” Spencer’s voice cuts him off harshly as he rushes to speak, although he stops his sentence halfway as a flicker of recognition falls across his features and his anger turns to dread.

“Hey, I know you,” Robert doesn’t have the time to say anything else to Spencer before Hotch forces him out of the room, shutting the door behind him to speak to Spencer privately whilst you Morgan and Rossi remained inside.

Hotch returned a few minutes later. Spencer didn’t.

You end up taking Hotch’s place as you push yourself out of the apartment with a small “excuse me,” to follow after Spencer as he walks out of the apartment building.

“Spencer- wait up a minute-”

He doesn’t stop at your call, and you’re practically running down the stairs by the time you get to him, already out of the front doors of the apartment building.

“Hey-” You take a second to catch your breath before turning your eyes back towards him again. “Are you alright?”

You could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes as he met your gaze.

The last time you spoke to him you threw away any remnant of your friendship with him in the bin alongside the book he’d given you, and now here you were, chasing after him to make sure that he was okay.

“Why did you agree to help?”

Your face falls from concern to surprise at his question, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I know that you don’t like her, so why are you here?” You could see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes, clearly overwhelmed with how the investigation was going.

“She’s important to you Spencer. Like her or not I care about you. So therefore I care about her,” You don’t think as you speak, words spilling out of your mouth with no conscious filter.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer’s apology elicits a sigh from your mouth, and you shake your head softly at him.

“Forget it, let’s focus on getting Maeve home safe alright?” He obliges to your request with a purse of his lips and a small nod, turning his eyes towards the ground.

“What’re you thinking about?” His eyes fall on yours once more at your question, round with confusion and glistening with the starts of tears. “I can see it in your face, you’re calculating something in your head,”

He exhales through his mouth in a small laugh. You’d always been able to figure him out, and not just because you were a profiler.

“2,412 hours,” His tone is uncertain, mixed between gratefulness for you observance and something far more upsetting. “That’s how long Maeve and I have contacted each other counting letters and phone calls…”

“That’s what-” You take a second to do the calculation in your head. “100 days?”

“100.5…” He runs his hand backwards through his hair, pressing his eyes closed like he’s afraid tears will spill from them if he doesn’t. “What if that’s all I get?”

“It won’t be Spencer…”

“You don’t know that-“

“Yes Spencer, I do,” You have to consciously suppress the sigh that threatens to leave your mouth, pushing your lingering distaste for Maeve down with it. “She is going to be fine, I promise,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Turns out Maeve’s ex fiancé wasn’t the stalker. In fact, he was being stalked himself, and whilst JJ and Garcia were looking over the images posted to Robert whilst him and Maeve were still together they discovered something that changed the entire direction of the investigation.

Maeve’s face had scribbled out in eyeliner.

You and the team spent the next thirty minutes rebuilding the profile from the bottom up.

“Celebrity stalkers are usually non violent,”

“You want to tell that to John Lennon Rossi?” Spencer looked up from his lap towards the group at the table, having separated himself from the group to sit on a sofa lining one of the walls so he couldn’t bias the profile.

It wasn’t going too well.

“What was it that Mark David Chapman said after he shot him?” Spencer stood from his seat, anger flaring in his nostrils. “‘It was like all of my nobody-ness and all of his somebody-ness collided’,”

You could hear the rise in his tone as he worked himself up the more he spoke.

“Spencer-“

“Maeve is somebody. And this- bitch is a nobody.”

“Spencer.”

Spencer caught your gaze, and immediately fizzling out of his eyes and replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry- I can’t be very helpful right now I should leave-“

“Yes you can Reid, you have 100.5 days of communication with this girl and a recall everything verbatim,” Morgan’s gaze is entirely concerned with Spencer’s outburst.

“There’s too much of it, and I can’t sort through any of it clearly-“ Spencer is clearly on the edge of breaking, and you can tell he’s not going to be able to keep his composure for much longer.

“Then pick one of us and we’ll go through it with you,” Hotch leaned his elbows against the table, his voice again portraying that soft, parental tone that said he knew how overwhelmed Spencer was getting.

Spencer didn’t even say anything, his eyes just silently flickered over to you and you knew you couldn’t refuse him.

You return his silence as you get up from your seat and pat your hand on his shoulder for the two of you to exit the room together.

Time to torture yourself for the sake of Spencer’s wellbeing.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Diane Turner, a research assistant working for her PhD in the same lab as Maeve. A student who had her thesis rejected because it contained a heavy sample bias that included both of her parents.

It took a while, but Garcia eventually managed to track down a loft that was owned under Diane’s parents’ names, less than 10 minutes away from Maeve’s apartment.

“Take your gun and vest off,” Diane’s voice is harsh through the receiver attached to the front of the building, and Spencer’s eyes flickered up from the silk blindfold in his hands to the metal box.

He doesn’t question the orders as he immediately begins stripping the vest from his torso, dropping it and his gun on the floor.

“Now come in alone.”

“Spencer.” You call out to him as he reaches for the door handle, and he gives you that look that makes your stomach do flips in your torso. Except this time it’s not that pleasant fluttery feeling, but instead an existential dread at the fact that he might not walk out of the building alive.

“I’ll be okay,” He gives you a nod of reassurance as he pushes the door open, and you find yourself clenching your hands around your gun to stop yourself from following after him.

The six of you wait outside for what feels like hours, and you lean back and forth on the balls of your feet as you become increasingly restless with the situation.

Then, a gunshot.

And a second.

And your heart drops in your chest.

You’re not entirely present as you rush into the building with the team following behind you, gun raised at your eyes.

Spencer had to be okay. He had to. He was going to be fine. You were going to walk into that room and he was going to be perfectly fine.

You hoped Maeve was alright too. As much as she was unintentionally causing you literal hell, you knew that she meant everything to Spencer.

You knew that he’d choose her over anything. He’d choose her over you.

And right now you don’t care. You just want him to be okay.

You force the door open to the loft with your foot, gun pointed straight ahead at the first person you see.

“Stay back-“ Spencer practically shouts from where he’s half lying on the floor, right hand clutching tightly at his left bicep, trails of blood cascading down his fingers and onto the floor.

“Stay back stay back don’t shoot-“

You let out an audible sigh at the fact that Spencer wasn’t critically harmed, although upon a whimper of his name from further across the room you turn your eyes up to the noise.

And you finally meet the girl that’s caused you ten months of hell. Held at gunpoint.

That small voice in the back of your head tells you that this might be your chance to finally rid her from your life, to let her succumb to whatever Diane had planned and leave Spencer to you.

But you take one look at the desperation in her eyes and any loathing that remained in your mind immediately fizzled out.

It wasn’t her fault. Of course it wasn’t. She was just a girl that happened to be in love.

“Diane,” Spencer pushes himself to stand, and you can see the pain in his face as he does. “There’s still a way out of this,”

“You never wanted me. Never!” Diane pushes the gun she’s holding hard against Maeve’s neck, and you can see her eyes squeeze closed as she attempts to keep herself from crying. “You lied!”

“I didn’t.”

Spencer shakes his head adamantly, and you glance over at Hotch as you spread across the back of the room, guns raised in Diane’s direction. “Diane, I offered you a deal, and you can still take it,”

“Me for her. Let me take her place,”

You only have a view of the back of Spencer’s head now, but you can tell by the tone of his voice that his expression is a pure display of desperation, one that you’re happy you can’t see because you’d lose your composure in an instant.

“You would do that?” Diane’s question is angry and accusatory, tears rolling down her face as she presses the gun against Maeve’s neck once more.

Spencer nods with no threat in his tone. “Yes,”

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

You practically feel your heart stop.

“Thomas Merton,” Maeve’s voice is almost exactly as you imagined it to be. Soft, smooth and, as Spencer had called it all those months ago, ‘dipped in honey’.

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane’s tone contrasts Maeve’s tenfold, pitchy, uneven and overrun with manic anger.

“He knows,” You can see Maeve’s eyes flicker, and you assume that they meet Spencer’s as his shoulders drop. “He knows.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane shakes Maeve in her grasp as if to intensify the urgence of her question, and you tighten your grip on your gun in instinctual response. “Who is he?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve’s voice is confident and defiant despite the clear tears in her eyes.

Thomas Merton could’ve been something between Spencer and you.

“No.”

You can see a clear change in Diane’s expression at Maeve’s words, and she lowers the gun from Maeve’s head only to hold it up against her own, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes.

“Wait-”

Spencer barely has time to shout the word before the gun fires, and you flinch at the sound as you watch Maeve and Diane both drop to the floor, dark red blood pooling around the two.

You can feel the tension in the room as everyone computes what just happened, guns lowering slowly as their eyes lock onto the two women on the floor.

You’re not focused on that. You’re focused on the tightness of Spencer’s shoulders as he takes sharp breaths in and out of his nose.

The way he seems to forget about the bullet wound in his arm as his legs give out underneath him.

The way a sob that leaves his mouth despite the fact that he tries to muffle it with his hand.

The way that Spencer broke.

He's crying. Big, heaving, heart-wrenching sobs.

His shoulders are trembling.

His hands are shaking.

His head is hanging downwards so that his hair is covering his face.

You approach him slowly, kneeling down at his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

His eyes slowly shift from Maeve, his sobs only seeming to amplify as he meets your gaze. His eyes are red and closely with tears, his cheeks running hot and his lips trembling.

You don’t speak, knowing that you’ll break if you do. Instead, you guide his head into your shoulder and let him crumble in your arms, grieving the loss of the love of his life.

You’re sure you’re going to cry yourself to sleep when you get home, but right now, you needed to be strong. For him.

“I’m so sorry-“ Spencer speaks through broken sobs as you hold him, the rest of the team moving to secure the scene.

“Shh,” You shake your head against his softly, rubbing the palm of your hand up and down his back as you let him cry until he physically couldn’t anymore.

“I treated you so horribly-“ He pulls away from your shoulder to look into your eyes once more. “I’m so sorry- Please don’t leave me…”

You purse your lips into a line, your expression full of so many emotions Spencer can’t distinguish any of them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You pull his head back into your shoulder, leaning your head against his. “I promise…”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #asks 🫶

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linalaine · 4 months

Text

- Brother's Best friend ! -

Scaramouche x Reader Smut

THIS WAS INSPIRED BY SOMEONE BUT I CANT REMEMBER THE BLOG NAME 😞

also I was debating making this longer but I just ended up redoing it so lmk if I should make a longer version of this !

🪼🌸cw: afab reader, wall fucking, degradation, use of pussy/cunt.

It was no secret you had the hots for your brothers best friend, Scaramouche. Hell, even your older brother knew! But it's not your fault your brother just had a hot best friend.

Scaramouches hair, his eyes, his voice, his style. Everything about him was so attractive. Even his snarky, condescending attitude at times, you can't help daydreaming and drooling over him whenever he comes over!

This is precisely why your older brother told you that his best friend is absolutely off limits to you. To not even look at him, or speak to him! He was off limits. Because you had the hots for him.

But that didn't mean that he didn't have the hots for you either.

Yes, everyone knew about your little crush on Scaramouche. Even Scara himself. The way you looked up at him with heart eyes, anyone could see. The way you would ask for his help for the most simple things when he came over, even if your brother was there too.

Now, Scara really did enjoy your brothers company! But he couldn't deny that you were also part of the reason why he came over so often. Just to see the way you run to the door excitingly to greet your brother and him. To see that look in your eye when you see him. To see the way you discreetly rub your thighs together and act all nervous when he knows damn well, all you want is to get in your brothers best friends' pants.

And he would happily oblige the next time he saw you. He was already planning.

So the next time Scaramouche did come over to your house with your brother, he simply ignored you. Only giving you a slight nod when you rushed to greet them. But that was the only acknowledgement you got.

Scara was planning on sleeping over with your brother to play video games all night. He knew exactly when to make his move. But that meant ignoring you first so your brother wouldn't get suspicious.

It killed him to see your disappointed face when he wouldn't talk to you! Watching as you left to go sulk in your room the rest of the night. But it's okay! He'd make sure to make up for it later tonight! <3

Which is exactly what he did. Once your brother put on his headset to play some game, Scara managed to sneak out of his room and beeline straight for your door! He knocked on it gently.

You peaked it open a little at first, before realizing it was him and opening it all the way.

"Scara! What is it? Do you-" You were suddenly caught off as he shoved his way into your room, shutting the door behind him and pinning you to the wall with his hand clamped over your mouth.

"Keep quiet, yeah? I managed to sneak away while your brother was distracted with his game so try not to alert him and be too loud, okay?"

Your cheeks went red but you nodded your head regardless. His hand was quickly replaced by his lips. Capturing yours in a deep, hungry kiss. He's been thinking about this all day long.

Scara pinned your hands to the door above your head with one hand, his other roaming your body, squeezing your ass. You had already become so desperate for him! Trying to push your lips against his harder.

He shoved his knee between your thighs, feeling your already wet cunt squish against it as you tried to grind into him, causing him to chuckle lowly.

"I knew you weren't as innocent as you tried to be. I could tell from the moment I saw you, you were nothing but a slut who practically begged to drool over my cock." Scara whispered in your ear before kissing your neck, down to your chest.

You whined softly at his words, still desperately trying to get more friction from his knee. He let go of your hands and quickly lifted your oversized pajama shirt over your head, exposing your breast to him.

"Didn't even wear a bra, fucking slut. You were waiting for this, weren't you?" You nodded your head vigoursly, leaning up to kiss him only for him to grab your chin tightly to keep you still while he took your nipple into his mouth.

You had to bit your lip to keep quiet. Scaras knee jerking up into your clothed pussy. He pulled away from your breast with a wet pop.

He hastily discarded his pants and boxers while you quickly kicked your panties off somewhere to the side. You didn't even have time to react when he spun you around! Your face and front pressed against the door while he kept his hands on your hips, rubbing his pre on your ass.

"Ready?" Scara asked softly into your ear, his tip teasing your entrance as you let out a small "mhm.."

That was all he needed before pushing into and bottoming out. You both let out a mix of moans and gasp. He gave you a moment to adjust to the feeling then started pulling out again until he was at the tip and roughly shoving back in all the way.

You could hear him groan behind you as he started fucking into you, his balls slapping against your ass. One of his hands snaked around you, shutting your mouth while the other was holding onto your wrist, pulling you back to meet his thrusts.

He was manhandling you. His best friends little sister. And it felt heavenly. Your moans muffled by his hand as your head squished up against the door. Your pussy was milking his cock for all its worth!

"Mm-Mmmph!~" You moaned out from behind his hand. His cock was dragging along your walls. It had you seeing stars. Scaras eyes were locked where his cock disappeared and reappeared from your little pussy.

"FUCK! You feel so fucking good, fuck.." He groaned, his head rolling back slightly. "Best fuucking pussy ever."

His cock twitched inside you. The harshness from his relentless pounding had your legs shaking. You were close and he could tell by the way your cunt went tight around his dick. He shoved his fingers into your mouth to silence you. You started sucking and swirling your tongue around them, choking like a good little whore!

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, leaving you trying to find something to stable yourself with. You clawed at the door, leaving marks behind like a feral cat as you completely crashed.

You came hard, tears blurring your eyes as you choked on Scaras fingers. He came soon after. The sight of you shaking from his cock was too much! With one harsh thrust and a loud smack of his pelvis hitting your ass, his warm seed flooded your pussy!

You moaned loudly again around his fingers as he filled you to the brim. Your body went limp after he pulled out, watching his cum drip from your abused hole and down your thighs.

He felt his cock grow harder again at the sight. He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you flush against him. You felt his erection pressing against your ass again as you let out a soft whine. This was going to be a long night.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin scaramouche #genshin scara #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche smut #scara x reader #scara x reader smut #scara smut #scara x y/n #scara x you

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kayas-kosmos · 10 months

Text

Because of what's happening on Twitter...

I've made a little diagram to demonstrate why billionaires and the ultra-wealthy are bad for society.

(Text in Image)

"If we view society as a body, every sector is like a different organ within the body that serves a function and works in harmony with other organs to maintain balance. Every part of the body is important for the whole thing to function."

"The ultra-wealthy want you to believe they are the beating heart and thinking mind of the society – they are the innovators who create our jobs and their brilliance drives society forward. They deserve to be at the top of society because they have earned that. Without them, the body won’t function because they are the most important part."

"In reality, they are more like a malignant tumour, sucking all of the blood (resources) away from everything else (people and the planet) to fuel its own infinite growth, depriving the rest of the body and slowly killing it. Workers create all of the innovation and keep things running, the ultra-wealthy take all the credit."

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

This is a public domain image so feel free to pinch it for whatever.

Elon Musk has put the careers of thousands of small business owners who depend on Twitter (myself included) in jeopardy by completely running it into the ground. Before this, Mark Zuckerberg had already been doing the same when he started pursuing Metaverse, making Instagram and Facebook much more unusable for artists. Do I really need to go into other examples of CEOs and very normalised practise of wage theft?

Meanwhile, the UK currently has the richest Prime Minister in its history. What is this man doing with this wealth? Continuing the Tory legacy of austerity in order to line his pockets and the pockets of his crony friends. This has resulted in a devastating cost of living crisis that continues to ravage the country as people's energy bills skyrocket out of control.

My diagram is pretty basic and lacks nuance, there's definitely more I could elaborate on with this comparison but I really don't have time. I just want people to get the basic point of how billionaires view themselves vs what function they actually serve. I'm also not here to debate whether some organs are more important than others since I'm not a doctor, that's not really the point here. And no, I don't care if people think I'm being harsh by comparing billionaires to a tumour. If they don't want to be compared to one they should stop acting like one. Jeff Bezos could end world hunger right now and chooses not to.

Also, I know a lot of people are going to come at me with the argument that billionaires give away massive amounts of money. First off, people like Jeff Bezos only give large sums of money to charity a.) for the sake of improving their public image and b.) because giving to charity allows them to write it off in their taxes. Also, charities in of themselves have a lot of problems, but that's a blog post for another day. Mutual Aid is a better way to help people directly. Really, the ultra wealthy need to be taxed, of course they do everything within their power to avoid taxes.

Also:

"Earning a lot of money" and "holding onto a lot of money" are two different things. You cannot be a multi-millionaire unless you hold onto that money. If you give away massive chunks of it to enrich society, you cease to be a billionaire.

Oh and this is worth a watch, too.

Furthermore:

Also before the inevitable great man comments:

Being a billionaire is a moral failing. Nobody needs that much money.

[Slight edit here - I made the assertion that a billionaire could not spend all of their money in their lifetime, but as someone in the comments pointed out it's very easy for them to completely waste billions in no time. Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg have shown that].

Anyway, if you would like to see more anti-Capitalist art from me, I am currently working on a webcomic called "Flowerpunk" - a story about a group of anarchists who are trying to save the city of Wyrdon from a supernatural plague known as "the rot." The comic heavily discusses disaster Capitalism and how the rich will use mass death and destruction as an opportunity to further line their pockets.

I also like to do little anti-Capitalist doodles relating to this project, which I plan to make into posters at some point.

Please consider donating a Ko-Fi also if you would like to help support this project. I am really struggling at the moment because I've basically lost a massive chunk of my client base due to this Twitter implosion and also because of the AI BS that has made it impossible for me to get any reach nowadays. The last year or so has been an absolute nightmare for my career because of all of this.

Thank you all for your continued support! Hopefully I can re-establish my audience here on Tumblr and wherever else I decide to go.

#Twitter #twitpocalypse #elongated muskrat #eat the rich #eat the fucking rich #tax the rich #tax the 1%#tax the billionaires #anti capitalism #workers of the world unite #working class solidarity #Can you tell that I am absolutely fucking done with this BS?

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roseykat · 3 months

Text

TITLE: Play Night

SUMMARY: Things between Jisung and Hyunjin are heating up, and leading towards their group trip to Jeju, Jisung needs to clear a few things up with Chan; about you and him and the current secret bet in place that he unintentionally started.

TAGS: smut, handjobs, orgasms, kissing, making out, hickies, soft/fluff/slice of life moments, swearing, slight confrontation (nothing toxic), use of alcohol (Hyunjin is slightly drunk but what takes place after is consensual), some Harry Potter spoilers/references (sorry if you haven't watched HP)?

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

MASTERLIST - PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

🏷️LIST: @chillichillicrabcrab23 @broken-glowsticks @ihatemen55 @boi-bi-ahaha @galamxy @weareapackofstrays @anglerfishiey @elizalabs3 @princejisung @fr34k4c1dr41n @stayconnecteed @imnotjjini0325 @twinklix @meilix @dawn-iscozy @valibals @oiikaro @im-sinking-in-mud @aalexyuuuhm @baby-yongbok @1dk-anym0r3 @wealwayskeepfighting @flowersun @huening-kawaii @newhope8 @leftkittenface @20minsat180degrees @itsthatbri 🩷

“Oh, now this - what about this one?”

Hyunjin hears Jisung’s voice from the aisle beside him where all the cold drinks are located. He himself had been scanning vigorously among the shelves for his favourite brand of ramen, only to come up short. They had been to four convenience stores prior and not one had what he was looking for. It landed them a trip further away than they had expected, but neither of them complained about wandering around far from where they were supposed to be.

After he straightens up and peeks his head over the snacks to see what Jisung was talking about, he shakes his head solemnly.

“No. No, that one's grape flavoured and it tastes like children’s medicine,” he says to him.

Jisung looks down at the purple can in his possession, “that’s oddly specific - oh, then what about orange-“

“Same thing.”

Jisung huffs and gives up, placing the can back where he found it in a disgruntled fashion, “you’re an easy man to please you know, but the minute it comes to food you’re so picky.”

Hyunjin strolls around to meet Jisung on the other side after filling his basket with snacks that had caught his eye and wanted to eat during their movie night, “drinks aren’t food.”

“Then what’s soup? A drink or a food?” He fires back.

“Not this again,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes and closes the fridge for Jisung who follows behind closely.

They’ve been debating about this for a while now which started off as a very contentious pillow talk topic that now crops up frequently. Of course, they wouldn’t be themselves if they didn’t have opposing opinions. Jisung, who thinks that soup is absolutely a drink, has been pushing that agenda ever since the night he tried to cook French onion soup to impress Hyunjin.

Only, it wasn’t that impressive, and was rather just a slurry of tasteless onion water and zero seasoning. In order to not upset his friend for trying his hardest, Hyunjin did his best to stomach the interesting creation and honestly hoped that he never tried again.

“It’s an important question!” Jisung begins to protest, ready with an army of rebuttals and arguments.

“Soup is a liquid food. That doesn’t mean to say it’s a drink, because you can eat soup. Plus, some soups have chunks of food in it too.”

“That’s just vegetable water or meat water.”

“Meat water,” Hyunjin repeats in a disgusted tone. “So you’re also saying that plain water is soup too?”

“Well, if you heat it up-“

“Okay,” Hyunjin interrupts as he dumps all their items onto the counter and takes out his wallet to pay. “Stop talking.”

“Make me,” he mouths and teases quietly so that the cashier couldn’t hear him. “If you stuff my mouth with something big then it might get me to stop talking.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, again.

Nearly every waking moment that he’s around Jisung, there’s always a guarantee that he’ll make Hyunjin’s eyes roll; whether it’s because of some weird shit that comes out of his mouth, or whether it’s giving him an orgasm. Whatever the reason, Hyunjin pretends to ignore him as he collects his goods, then heads out with his best friend at his side.

The entire commute back to his apartment, Jisung kept talking. On and on, and on about an assortment of subjects that Hyunjin had no interest in. At least not now. Not when all he wanted to do was go home, not speak, and just laze around with Jisung like he has been for the past few weeks. That thought seems to trigger a very sobering realisation that dawns on him as they ride the train back to his place.

As Hyunjin looks at the side of Jisung’s face who’s been rambling on about his opinion on the best types of pasta, he realises that they’ve been hooking up for the past few weeks. They kiss, make out, do other things, but not once have they had sex. Yet. They haven’t even talked about it, and yet, a part of Hyunjin had to wonder; was there any point in even talking let alone thinking about it if whatever is going on between them, isn’t going to last?

His eyebrows knit together. He doesn’t want to think about that. Hyunjin doesn’t know whatever feelings Jisung has right now, but the one thing he knows is that he likes the sense of comfort that hanging around him brings. What if he asks and disrupts what they have? What if he asks and ruins Jisung’s thoughts on him?

As those questions infiltrate his psyche, his head lowers and comes to rest on Jisung’s shoulder, eyelids closing softly, “wake me up when we get to our stop please.”

Jisung’s big brown eyes turn into the size of plates, a little bit taken aback that Hyunjin, a person who isn’t that huge on public displays of affection, is resting on him right now. Not to mention the privileged feeling that inflates Jisung whenever a person rests their head on his shoulder, which is very rare. It’s like some physical way of saying that Hyunjin trusts him, or feels comfortable around him at the very least.

He scans up and down the cart where no members of the public come into his view. Grateful for their absence, Jisung feels safe by reciprocating the same affections. So he places his hand on Hyunjin’s upper thigh, and he too rests his head against his friends’.

For the next five minutes, Jisung and Hyunjin would ride the train back to his place in peace. Neither of them spoke a word until they reached their stop. The pair of them hop up, Hyunjin stands and stretches his long limbs as he and his friend head inside the apartment complex.

Once they return to his place, Hyunjin prepares all the snacks for them on his coffee table, while Jisung gets the movie ready that they - he - wanted to watch.

“Harry Potter? Again?” Hyunjin groans, taking the plastic wrap off of the kimbap to share and setting it down on the surface once they’ve both sunken down onto the couch.

“What do you mean ‘again’?” Jisung shoots him a dirty look. He’s always been pretty serious about his Harry Potter, having watched the movies over a thousand times and read the books back to back. “This is the next part of the series, thank you.”

Hyunjin sighs and makes himself comfortable. He then heads to his fridge to grab a couple of bottles of soju and some shot glasses. Back at the convenience store, he meant to buy something non alcoholic, had he not been so picky about the flavours Jisung presented to him he wouldn’t be deciding on whether he should have alcohol or not. In saying that, it was nice to have a drink.

He strolls back to the coffee table with their final items and places them all down.

"Oh, yum," Jisung gasps and reaches for the bottle, unscrews the cap and starts pouring the clear liquid into both shot glasses already.

Hyunjin stares at him as he downs the alcohol in one smooth go, "alright then..."

Jisung holds up the other shot glass for Hyunjin, "your turn."

He takes it in hand, careful not to spill it on the rug beneath him - then again, it's seen a lot more messier liquids on it than alcohol.

"Yuck," Hyunjin retches after swallowing half of the contents in the glass.

"Come on, you know you like it," Jisung nudges him. "You know the saying; if you can handle cum, you can handle alcohol."

Hyunjin nearly sprays out the rest of the alcohol from his mouth as a muddle of amusement, concern, and curiosity wakes him up more than the semi-burn of the drink does, "and who said that exactly?"

"Me," he answers. "Hence why I can take both so well."

Like some of the time, Jisung wasn't wrong and summed it up with another shot before he picked up the remote to play the movie. He settles back comfortably while Hyunjin takes another shot of the soju.

He makes it through the first twenty minutes of the film, then reaches the part where Harry Potter suddenly gets selected for the Triwizard Tournament. By that point, Hyunjin was sure the alcohol had fully trickled into his bloodstream when he wasn't able to tell the difference between Mad Eye Moody and Hagrid.

Frames started to blend together and yet, he thought it was still a good idea to continue drinking to see if that would help. However, most good idea turn to bad ones. The alcohol began to play absolutely no part in trying to help him make sense of the plot and made him focus on other things rather than the movie.

It was safe to say that he grew steadily bored when it came to watching it. At the same time, he didn't have the heart in him to express his opinion to the person beside him who was so wrapped up in the universe on screen. Jisung's eyes were completely glued to the digital motions before him whereas Hyunjin's eyes were glued to him.

Boredom strikes him bad when he feels the need to lean over and make his long body comfortable on Jisung. Hyunjin's upper torso stretches over his friend's lap who doesn't pay too much mind to it. Jisung even hangs his arms over Hyunjin's abdomen while he watches the film contently.

It's not the type of physical contact he wants right now.

"Jisungie," he mutters into the couch.

"Hmm?"

"Can we do something else?" Hyunjin pleads rather than asks.

He never gets a response. The lounge continues to be filled with dialogue - something along the lines of Ron Weasly now having a go at Harry for being inducted into the tournament and not telling him. Hyunjin's had enough of it and for whatever reason he feels like, he slides off of Jisung's lap. Half of his body slumps onto the ground while the other half remains somewhat on the couch.

"What are you doing?" he snorts, grabbing onto Hyunjin's hands and trying to hoist him back up.

He awkwardly anchors his legs around Jisung's body in an effort to help pull himself up as well but ends up knocking his head on the edge of the coffee table. With a delayed reaction, Hyunjin winces and then laughs as he tries to rub his own head even while Jisung is still trying to save him from falling off completely.

"Here just - just stop moving so I can help," he leans back and uses all his arm strength to move what is practically dead weight to him.

Hyunjin puts in zero effort to help and instead becomes a giggling mess the second he's actually able to get back into Jisung's lap. When he does, his long limp limbs wrap themselves around the man beneath him. He hides his face in the crook of his neck, the sudden whiff of Jisung's skin almost makes him dizzy, making his mood do a complete one eighty degree turn.

It creates immense difficulty in trying to swallow the urge to plant a kiss over the soft area, earning a very quiet yet distinct hum from Jisung. Hyunjin repeats the same action, longer this time and in different spots that his tongue can swipe over. The grip Hyunjin barely knew was there on his hips, twitched in place. As if Jisung's nails are trying to dig into Hyunjin's flesh had he not worn clothes.

"Hey," Jisung alerts him. “Can’t watch the movie if all you’re trying to do is get on my dick- ah…”

Hyunjin’s mouth shuts his right up from one sharp suck into his skin. His tongue flattens over the fresh red plum mark. The sight of it alone makes Hyunjin want to decorate them over every inch of Jisung’s body, similar to the style of how he would paint a canvas - which he does. Over as much skin as Jisung lets him when he moves his head to allow Hyunjin to cover more skin.

“Y-You’ll…you’ll get me hard,” he warns, now unable to concentrate on the film.

Hyunjin pulls away from his neck, giving him a rest from the myriad of hickies he’ll have to worry about later, and looks him down in the eye, “that’s sort of the point.”

Their mouths draw together like magnets, like they’ve been doing for weeks. Every day they find their lips on the others or some body party of theirs. Jisung gets to relish and dawn in the softness of Hyunjin’s lips, letting him slip past further to explore his mouth. His needs not only start to show through in his pants, but in his breathing and frantic pace of trying to feel Jisung that he almost can’t keep up with him.

So he decides that he needs to contain him a bit, bring him down a few notches to reminds him that he’s not in charge - at least for now.

With that, Jisung wraps his hand right around Hyunjin’s waist and manoeuvres him onto his back. The abrupt shift in control makes him act up almost instantly. Hyunjin is grabbing at Jisung’s shirt trying pull his body back down to his, but his muscles are weak and tired from drinking that it makes it too easy for Jisung to straddle his hips and pin his hands to the side of his head.

“Look what you’ve done to yourself,” he tells Hyunjin right in his ear while he rolls his ass down over the dick that's hardening underneath him. "Gonna be fucking begging when I'm through with you."

At that point, the pair had gone beyond the fact of not completing a full movie night. With the way that Jisung continues to pin Hyunjin back and exchange the manifold of hickies across the planes of his throat and neck. If anyone walked into the apartment, they would’ve thought vampires truly existed with the way Jisung’s mouth was latched onto his best friend’s skin.

“T-The movie,” Hyunjin stammers hopelessly with his words. “Jisung…the movie…”

Jisung lets out a sinister chuckle as he pushes himself back up to take off his shirt and tosses it somewhere around the lounge, "fuck the movie. You started this. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To rile me up and now you've gone all shy on me."

Hyunjin doesn't listen. His first instinct is to reach out and grab Jisung’s waist, to caress his hand freely for a few moments before gliding down and grasping the flesh over his hips. The slight sting in it makes him buck his hips forward and over Hyunjin’s clothed cock, making him groan lowly. He could cum easily like this - so easily and has done.

Every position they get into to practically dry hump each other, he always imagines that this is what it would be like if Jisung was riding his throbbing cock. To cum inside him and watch his face contorts the way that it does whenever Hyunjin makes him orgasm.

That thought sparks a wire in his brain, causing him to suddenly jerk his hips up and into Jisung. He smirks down at him, soaking up the state of the man beneath him. The hickies, red and wet kissable lips, dozy eyes that slowly blink up at him…

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Jisung mutters in exasperation like he's never seen Hyunjin's body before. “Just wanna f-”

Blaring on the coffee table next to all of the opened snacks was Jisung’s phone, he quickly bends over to the side to reach for it in urgency while still trying to straddle. Hyunjin twists his body carefully with Jisung still on top, picking the remote off the floor that had fallen after being pinned back. He pauses the movie for a moment to let Jisung answer his call.

A small weight sinks in his stomach as he speaks in shock, “it’s Chan."

"M-Maybe you should answer it," Hyunjin tries his best to talk over the exponential rate of how much he is turned on right now.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Jisung! Do you not answer your texts? I sent about six just before!”

He pulls his phone away from his ear and checks his notifications. His friend was right, Jisung had in fact missed his messages. But not on purpose of course. If he hadn't been so busy provoking Hyunjin whose hands started sliding up Jisung’s thighs, dangerously close to his tented crotch, he would've seen the texts.

Hyunjin's fingertips delicately trace over where Jisung's cock begins to harden. His eyebrows furrow immediately as Chan continues speaking on the other end of the line about how he’s still surprised that Jisung didn’t answer him right away.

“You’re always on your phone, I thought you might’ve been quick to respond,” says Chan.

“Oh, yeah not this time,” he responds truthfully, to some degree. “I’ve been watching Harry Potter all evening and-“

The words ready to leave Jisung's mouth die before they make it out as Hyunjin mischievously, and very clearly, starts to palm Jisung’s hard length over his pants. It didn’t take him that long to start leaking from his tip, creating a very visible dark patch over his shorts.

“…and-“

Hyunjin then reaches into the slot of the material, past his boxers and frees his cock. For a few moments, he takes away his hand just to admire how Jisung looks right now. The fact that he tried to finish what Hyunjin started, only to have the tables turned on him again. He flushes with embarrassment at the fact that without Hyunjin’s grasp around his length, his dick was able to stand tall on its own; so needy and desperate for touch.

“And what?” Chan’s voice suddenly startles him out of his situation.

“And I just lost track of time, that’s all,” Jisung continues as calmly as he can.

“No worries. I haven’t watched Harry Potter in years. I think the last might’ve been Prisoner of Azkaban? No, Goblet of Fire? It was the one where…”

Chan’s voice drifts out of Jisung’s mind despite the fact that he’s right in his ear on the other line. His face contorts at the sudden pleasure he receives as Hyunjin takes hold of his neglected cock once more. His eyes dart sharply down to his own length and the large hand which begins to slowly tug.

“…he gets chosen for the tournament when he really didn’t put his name into the cup…”

Jisung brings a shaky hand to his mouth, covering it immediately so as to mask and muffle something that could end up as a future regret. Hyunjin knows all too well what sort of sounds can come out of that mouth of his too, for it has reverberated around the walls of his apartment, stifled into his pillows, caught in the back of his throat which usually serves as a path for Hyunjin’s cum these days.

He’s heard it all before.

For Jisung to keep a lid on all of those possibilities is a smart move, especially if they want to uphold the secrecy of their situation.

“…and I’m pretty sure it’s the one where Cedric dies.”

“Y-Yeah,” he responds shakily. “That’s the one we - I’m watching at the moment.”

“Maybe I should rewatch the first two,” Chan suggests to himself. “It’s the only series I can actually watch and understand without it being too complicated. I tried watching Lord of the Rings before but it’s too…”

Once more, Chan’s voice becomes a distant sound as Jisung tries to stop himself from bucking his hips into Hyunjin’s hand. But it’s not possible. He can’t just ignore the fact that he’s been horny since Hyunjin made him all hot and bothered, and now he’s built up to maximum capacity where his body craves release.

“So what time suits you?” Chan asks randomly.

“Time for what?” Jisung responds back in confusion, his mind blending together like mush when Hyunjin has gotten into a steady pace.”

“To hang out tomorrow!”

“Oh, right! Ah - um, lunchtime? Twelve…” He suggests, his hips still rutting.

“Alright sounds good. I’ll see you there okay?” Chan asks.

“I’m cumming - I mean, I-I’ll come! I’ll be coming - going there,” Jisung stammers terribly with his words. “F-Fuck sorry, just…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chan laughs on the other end of the line, “see you then.”

Jisung has never hung up faster, the phone toppling out of his possession as he rocks his hips into Hyunjin’s grasp. It also gave him the ability to rut his ass against Hyunjin’s hard length below him. Then within a split second, the lid that Jisung was trying so hard to contain over what his body needed to do, came off.

“Fuck, gonna cum, m’cumming!” He cries out.

Hyunjin grins, and does not dare let up on his hand twisting and gliding on the length currently in his power, “I heard you the first time. How humiliating would that have been for you if Chan realised you were getting a handjob. Too bad he can't hear you whining so pathetically-“

Air hitches in Jisung’s throat, and for a few seconds too long Hyunjin looks into his eyes and sees tears welling up. A terrible, cold sinking feeling expands in his stomach, making him realise that he just said something awful to Jisung.

“W-Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t-

It was too late. Loud moans rupture violently through Jisung’s chest - ones that Hyunjin knows his neighbours are familiar with by now because by no means is Han Jisung quiet. He will let Hyunjin know how he’s making his body feel now explodes from immense pressure.

His rutting against Hyunjin’s cock becomes staggered as a result of trying to chase his orgasm. Jisung clutches onto Hyunjin’s shirt, the fabric balling up tightly along with his fist. He can’t stop, he doesn’t want to stop, until eventually that buildup releases erratically in flows of white that spill over his tip and dribble down Hyunjin’s hand. Jisung had never cum that hard from a handjob before.

He finishes gasping for air when he starts coming down, slowly rocking his ass over Hyunjin’s crotch to ease himself off the euphoria. Beneath him is a different story.

Hyunjin was mortified for making him cry, so shocked that he was frozen and couldn’t take his hand off of Jisung’s dick. But that didn’t matter. Jisung had the intention of finishing what he started, to feel so good that all his problems melted away.

Hyunjin sits up immediately, so close to Jisung’s face as he needs to check in with his friend, “are you okay? I’m so, so sorry, I don’t even know why I said that. It just...it just came out of my mouth.”

He wipes his eyes after a couple of tears fell down his face in the process of dry riding Hyunjin. Part of what just happened makes him laugh breathily and nods, “yeah. I’m okay.”

“Jisung, I’m really, really sorry,” he quickly says and means it, trying to look him in the eye.

“No, oh my god don’t be sorry,” he assures him. “I’m fine, seriously.”

“Then…then why are you crying?” Hyunjin asks the million dollar question, still acting out of horror.

He gives a lazy shrug, “I dunno how to explain it properly, but I like that kind of talk. It just…yeah. I’m not too sure. I suppose I teared up because I haven't actually cum that hard before.”

“I…didn’t know you were into…that,” Hyunjin doesn’t know how to reply to that type of statement, now that he just found out his friend likes being humiliated. Out of all things Jisung would be into, it had to be that.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know,” he replies, leaning over to the coffee table just a bit to pick up the box of tissues to clean Hyunjin’s hand.

“W-What did Chan want?” He asks even though he doesn't want to stray away from the topic to make sure his friend is still okay.

Jisung slides off of his body and in between his legs rather awkwardly. From this stance, it’s easy to see the large tent in Hyunjin’s pants that he was grinding on as he made himself comfortable. He smooths the palm of his hand over Hyunjin's hard length and slowly back down. In doing so forces a couple of strained sighs out of his mouth.

“Wants to hang out tomorrow,” he answers, reaching into Hyunjin’s shorts to feel his hard cock. The same cock that keeps him coming back, that makes him feel heated and irrational.

In Jisung’s opinion, anyone would be lucky to have someone like his friend in front of him. Even though they haven’t had sex, he knows how Hyunjin fucks, having seen the way he made you cum weeks ago - it only makes Jisung wonder what it would be like to actually cum around Hyunjin’s cock.

It’s what he wants, needs in fact whenever they’re together.

Hyunjin bites his lip and throws his head down onto the couch, “y-you going to?”

“Course I am,” Jisung replies, thumbing over the dark pink tip that leaks clear glossy precum. “Need to ask him about Y/N and what the situation is there.”

A dreadful ball of weight pummels Hyunjin from behind when he hears your name in the same sentence as ‘Chan’. Not to mention, as Jisung said, your ‘situation’ with him currently which Hyunjin doesn’t want to process. He likes being oblivious to the fact that Chan is sleeping with you. That he gets to fill you up, that he just gets to see you. Whether Jisung was telling the truth or not about you and him sleeping together, he acts as if you’re not to save himself from the reality of it.

“D-Do you really need to?” Hyunjin asks hesitantly, fumbling terribly with his words as Jisung lowers his head down and licks one long stripe from the base of Hyunjin’s cock, right to his dark pink tip.

“Yes,” he confirms, but doesn’t truly tell him why for reasons far too similar to his friend here.

After giving his answer, Jisung sinks his mouth onto Hyunjin’s cock, just half of it to tease him. Bobbing his head a couple of times causes Hyunjin’s to grab the side of the couch while the other flies to land on top of Jisung’s head.

“What if…if he doesn’t say anything?” He questions breathlessly.

Jisung pops back up, and leans over Hyunjin’s abdomen to ask him in his face, his question bears some perspective to the situation, “do you want me to blow you, or not?”

Hyunjin uses the hand that’s not ready to brace his body by the side of the couch and tucks a long lock of Jisung’s dark brown hair behind his ear, “yes.”

“Then please shut your mouth and let me,” he demands.

It wasn’t hard for Hyunjin’s eyelids to shut and squeeze together. Receiving a blowjob from Jisung always feels like he’s had his soul sucked out of him; he doesn’t know where he learned it, but isn’t complaining either because it put Hyunjin to sleep ten minutes after they cleaned themselves up. By the time he and Jisung crawled into bed together, he had forgotten having the conversation with Jisung about you and Chan. Yet, only to be reminded of it the following day when Jisung woke up at half past eleven in the morning.

He was scheduled to meet Chan at one of his favourite lunch spots nearby and was in no mood to meet him. Being the morning person he is not, Jisung found himself struggling immensely to get out of bed and Hyunjin’s long arms that were encasing him.

Although he didn’t feel like leaving, he thought it would be best to just go as it had been a while since he saw Chan last. More importantly, he needed to confront him about what’s going on. Mainly for his own piece of mind.

He remembers something in his stomach sinking when he read that text on your phone. Despite the intense shock he felt when he discovered that you and Chan were hooking up, he wasn’t able to diverge from his own feelings. Something which he struggles to get across and might depending on the outcome of the lunch with one of the people in question.

Jisung steps out of the shower with a towel around his waist as he goes to sit on the end of the bed to open some of the drawers to his dresser. He pulls out a cream coloured jersey, some underwear, and a pair of sweatpants.

The fact that he needs to borrow so many articles of clothing is just another potent reminder that he should be packing and taking an overnight bag whenever he goes to hang out with Hyunjin. Nine times out of ten, Jisung will always say he’s only coming over for the afternoon then ends up staying for more than one day at a time.

The sheets ruffle beneath Hyunjin’s body as he stirs himself awake. He sits up, bed head on full view and eyes barely open, “what are you doing?”

“Borrowing some clothes,” Jisung answers trying to ignore how hot his morning voice sounds. “I’ll bring you back some food to compensate.”

“You said that last time,” he grumbles sleepily. “I’m also down four of my favourite jerseys because of you.”

Jisung throws on the material over his top half before crawling his way on the mattress to Hyunjin. He kisses him unexpectedly yet expectedly on the lips.

“Just go back to sleep,” he whispers. “I’ll see you after.”

With his confirmation, Hyunjin’s top half flops back against the mattress before Jisung pulls the white duvet back over his body, tucking him in. He had no trouble falling back asleep when Jisung lightly brushes some strands of his hair out of his face. However, without the distraction of him touching Hyunjin, Jisung couldn’t help but feel nervous.

He already knew that you and Chan were sleeping together. That text long affirmed that. Yet for how long and what for remained to be a sickening twist of fearful questions lugging Jisung’s stomach down. He didn’t really want to hear the answers from Chan if he can even stomach that conversation. He didn’t want to hear ‘yes we’ve been fucking’ or the ‘yeah, it’s true’ answers.

In saying that, Jisung has a trait of bottomless curiosity. That itch to find out for his own personal gain was going to make or break him. At that, he dons on the matching coloured sweats, grabs his phone and wallet, and then heads out of Hyunjin’s apartment.

After a train ride away, it doesn’t take long for Jisung to arrive, and apparently not for Chan either, who was already seated, waiting for his friend. An assortment of dishes had already been brought to the table, making Jisung realise how hungry he was since breakfast was no longer.

“How the fuck did you get here so fast, you live on the other side of the city,” Jisung exclaims to him from behind as he approaches.

“Hey. I couldn’t wait any longer because I was hungry,” Chan complains in a whiny tone. “Came here earlier to order, so I couldn’t wait.”

“Good, that makes things easier because I didn’t know what I was going to get anyway,” he replies and sits down in the booth opposite Chan. He hasn't changed much. Then again, it hasn't been too long since he's seen him last. “Been busy?”

He shakes his head, “you have no idea.”

“Thought you might’ve been,” Jisung responds, eyeing him intently to see if he gives off even the subtlest signs of a lie. “Haven’t seen you in almost a month, what’ve you been up to?”

Chan shrugs, “work and tutoring some of these students at the University.”

Jisung gives a firm nod, believing him and understanding how tiresome that must be to help teach students. It’s not until he pauses and realises that Uni semesters haven’t started yet. Even summer semester students are on break. He could’ve called him out on his bullshit now to see what answers he would get, but for the sake of wanting to find out other information, he keeps that to himself.

“Shit, sounds tough,” Jisung sympathises with him, or at least tries to if he was lying.

“How ‘bout you?”

“Same old. Working - you’re still coming to Jeju right?” He asks on a different subject.

“Yeah, of course. I took leave for it,” Chan answers as a puzzled look then befalls on his face. For a moment, his eyes narrow at Jisung, or rather his chest, trying to decipher what’s wrong with the picture he’s currently seeing.

“What?” He asks, trying to follow his gaze.

“You and Hyunjin have the same jersey,” Chan points out, realising what the flaw was.

“Oh, I know, that loser keeps copying everything I wear,” Jisung quickly plays it cool because unbeknownst to Chan, it is in fact Hyunjin’s jersey.

“Why are you wearing a scarf by the way?” Jisung tries to direct the attention away from himself

He hadn’t noticed the black item wrapped warmly around Chan’s neck until he began to panic whilst digging up something else to switch topics. The heat Jisung feels like he’s already being dragged under was starting to make him feel uneasy.

“The same reason you’re wearing a jersey on a thirty degree day,” Chan fires back just as fast but more nonchalantly to just about make Jisung sweat.

It forces him to wonder what on earth this reason is that his friend is talking about, and why he’s being so cryptic.

His face twists into confusion, mildly surprised when he realises Chan is trying to clock him for something that he doesn’t even know about or what for. Then again, it’s Chan. When is he not this observant?

“And what reason is that?” He responds with an accusatory tone.

Chan doesn’t answer, not directly. He only lifts his chin up slightly and points to his own throat, confusing the hell out of Jisung as to what he means. When it’s clear that the message can’t cross his mind, Chan rolls his eyes, and reaches into his pockets to take out his phone. He pulls up the selfie camera mode and hands it to Jisung to look at.

Apart from seeing his own reflection, he can see something else; a few splotches of dark, reddish marks littered all over his throat. At first he thought he had a rash, but wasn’t too sure what he was looking at. However, upon closer inspection, he moves the camera a bit closer to his throat and takes a photo on Chan’s phone to see it better.

After his quick analysis, Jisung knew instantly what they were. More importantly, who it came from. Hickies, and from none other than the only person he’s been messing around with, Hyunjin. Jisung didn’t even bother covering them up.

He hastily hands Chan’s phone back after deleting the photo, “so what?”

“Suppose you forgot you had them, judging by your reaction,” Chan guessed correctly, completely stumping Jisung who’s nearly lifting his own body off his seat as he tries to come up with an argument.

“Well…I suppose you didn’t know that I know you and Y/N are fucking which explains the scarf too but here we are!” He blurts out before he even has time to think about stopping the words from coming out of his mouth.

Chan’s hand stalls over the pot of stew while Jisung’s lips are pursed together. All the colour in his face has drained, almost making him feel lightheaded that he just said that out loud. In saying that, this is exactly the topic he wanted to discuss - you and Chan. He just wasn’t expecting the conversation to meander in such a way that nearly exposes himself and threw him way off the track of ever raising the subject.

“And what makes you think that?” Chan resumes ladling some of the hot stew into his bowl of rice.

Jisung knows that you can’t unring a bell so makes the split decision and decides to come clean, “I was using Y/N’s phone for something, and that’s where I saw a text message from you, hinting that you guys were sleeping together.”

“Ah,” Chan recalls immediately at the sudden confession. “From that little truth or dare game you, her and Hyunjin played?”

Jisung’s jaw unhinges, staring across the table towards his friend who seems to be a search engine for the topic of ‘everything Jisung has done lately.’ Nearly every minute that passes, Chan slaps him with a new fact that his friend wasn’t expecting him to know.

“You - but, how did- did Hyunjin-“

Chan’s already shaking his head before Jisung can muster a proper sentence, “Hyunjin never said a word. In fact he hasn’t been replying to my texts so I haven’t heard from him.”

“Then…then Y/N?”

“Well it couldn’t have been you or anyone else that was there.”

Jisung isn’t angry. He’s just shocked that he keeps getting one upped. Chan finding out that Jisung had a threesome with two of his best friends - one of them who he’s been fucking for some time now too - was far more of a juicy topic than just you and Chan seeing each other casually, which Jisung still doesn’t know the full details of.

“Said she had never cum like that in her entire life,” Chan adds, burying Jisung another meter or so deeper into this hole of new scandalous information.

His body freezes over. Suddenly, it’s not thirty degrees and everything feels cold. Jisung doesn’t ever really hear Chan talk about his sex life. Even when he was in a relationship with his ex, each of his friends tried to dissect as many details about it as they could. But they were never successful. That was a result of keeping things as private and low key as possible.

Nevertheless, Chan’s crude and very straightforward words had knocked Jisung right off his feet. The fact that you had told him what must’ve been very clear details of that night at Hyunjin’s was a sign that it still lingered on your brain. Part of his ego secretly swells with joy because of it.

“Then I felt like I needed to outdo you guys after that,” he adds.

“What do you mean?” Jisung questions with a tone of an impending doom that looms over him.

Chan smiles sweetly, memories stirring of that night in particular he had with you. It had to be one of the best times by far to him, “you know what I mean.”

Jisung’s skin stings with scorching hot jealousy; he knows exactly what Chan means. The fact of the matter is that he can’t believe he’s saying these types of things to him. Then again, there’s only one reason why Jisung would be so affected by it and he didn’t want to display that in front of Chan without figuring out what it means. But whatever it is that’s tugging at the organ beating hard and fast in his chest, makes him furious.

“Alright then,” he replies unfazed as he possibly could, swallowing the tough pill before realising there was one other thing he wanted to mention. “Suppose you guys are still seeing each other.”

Chan looks Jisung right in his eyes as he slowly retracts the spoon out of his mouth, “maybe.”

“So yes then.”

“What does it mean to you?” He tests him, almost sadistically.

“It means nothing to me,” Jisung answers rather bitterly and nastily, his entire aura switching up before he finds a new tether to lure the spotlight away from himself. “Just the fact that I told the others about you two, and they made a bet.”

Chan looks up, “a bet?”

“None of them believed me, so they made a bet to see whether you guys were or not even though I said so.”

If he didn’t have food in his mouth, Chan would’ve laughed, instead a disgruntled chuckle came out along with a couple of specs of his rice, “course they wouldn’t! Why would they believe that the two polar opposite people would be screwing behind everyone’s back?”

“You're not mad?” Jisung checks to be sure.

He shakes his head, “course not, dunno if Y/N won’t be though. She said she likes keeping things pretty private-“

“Clearly not if she told you she had a threesome,” Jisung cuts him off at that point.

“Well, there’s some exceptions to that,” Chan shrugs, finishing off his bowl of rice. “I don’t know if this means anything to you but, she wouldn’t shut up about sleeping with you and Hyunjin. She told me every single detail like for instance, when you and Hyunjin made out-“

The tongs fall out of Jisung’s tight grip and clatter onto the table. He brings his hands up to his eyes, covering his entire face to hide whatever embarrassing feelings that start to simmer on the surface. However, Chan didn’t seem to care and continued on with his points to prove.

“-how she liked it when you went down on her, how you watched Hyunjin fuck her - I told you what I meant about the details, right? Anyway,” he says. “She was raving about it. And yet, when she and I started seeing each other casually, she said that she didn’t want me to tell anyone else. That I needed to take what we have to the grave.”

Jisung removes his hands away from his face and looks down at his own food, unsure if he can stomach any more of it with the way the conversation has been handled. The more he talks and thinks about you, the more he feels like he’s being filled up with this bad gloomy feeling. He has to wonder if Chan is just being plain cruel to him by dumping all of his thoughts and information onto him.

He has to wonder, would it have been better to stay oblivious rather than being teased with snippets of what you’ve been saying to Chan these past few weeks. Hearing about how much you enjoyed yourself with him and Hyunjin yet haven’t directly spoken to them since that night.

“What are you saying?” Jisung questions, tired with the bullshit that’s starting to spike in their discussion.

“The fact that she wants to keep our…activities a secret from people and rather them not find out about us, yet is the first to speak highly of what you, her and Hyunjin did, means something more than you think.”

More than he thinks? Jisung can’t understand what that could’ve possibly meant. He sits there, bewildered and stumped. Unsure of what else to say.

“Right,” he responds.

Chan watches him warily, trying to gauge his behaviour as he decides to change the topic, “so, what’s on the table for this bet?”

Jisung quickly pries himself away from his messy mind and answers, “losers have to buy a days’ worth of food when we go to Jeju.”

Chan nods, impressed as he reaches for more meat on the grill and loads it into his bowl, “even less of a reason to be mad. Looks like I’ll be eating for free either way.”

"Yeah, looks like it."

The span of Jisung's vocabulary seemed to fail him. That and the fact that he didn't really want to talk anymore. Yes, it was good to see one of his best friends, but the circumstances that developed throughout their lengthy conversation made him wish he stayed in bed with Hyunjin just the extra bit longer so he would have to cancel lunch.

He managed to finish off small bowls of food to not make himself appear out of character. One whiff of anything remotely aberrant on Jisung's behalf, and Chan would hold him hostage in the restaurant until he tells him what's wrong. Despite that, Chan noticed something off anyway.

He saw the way Jisung's face fell when he confirmed that he was sleeping with you. He saw how his shoulders drooped and then picked up when he mentioned that you told him about the night at Hyunjin's. He saw how defensive and sceptical Jisung became whenever he would just simply mention you.

He saw that Jisung was hiding something.

When both friends had finished enjoying their meals, they were greeted with a downpour of rain that would have them seeking refuge under the veranda of the restaurant once they were outside. Just before they bid farewell to each other, Chan quickly turns to Jisung and calls out.

“It’s okay if you like her,” he says out of nowhere. “Y/N and I are not what you might think we are and we made it clear to each other that we never will be. There’s nothing between her and I, just so you know.”

Jisung stares at him, not showing any emotions on his face even though deep down, his brain and insides are whirring with emotions he can't even fathom, “I don’t like her like that.”

Chan laughs at him, unfazed with the sudden tension that seems to be slicing through them, “keep telling yourself that. See you next week.”

Through the deluge of rain and shadows from the dark, dense clouds above, Chan runs off in the opposite direction to where he needs to head home. Jisung stands there defeated and shocked that Chan is onto his tail that he likes you. He knew that heading into meeting up with him meant that the truth was going to come out one way or the other. Suppose it was just not on his terms.

It stirs many thoughts as he throws his hood up and ducks out into the rain to head to the train station and back to the safety of Hyunjin.

When he returns, Jisung keys in the passcode to unlock the door to the apartment, and is smothered with a waft of a sweet decadent scent. Standing in the kitchen, Hyunjin was at the stove flipping over what looked to be pancakes which suddenly reminded Jisung-

“Fuck, oh my god. The food, I forgot to even order it,” Jisung groans when he closes the door behind him.

Hyunjin turns the element dial on low and spins around to lean on the counter, away from the stove tops, "it's okay. I felt like something sweet anyway."

Jisung sighs. It felt right to be back with Hyunjin once more even though he had only been out for a couple of hours. In saying that, his conversation with Chan was good but draining. It’s not that he doesn’t like him for telling him the truth, there’s absolutely no doubt about that. Chan is and will always be his friend.

There is no emotional connection between you and him and that’s all that matters to Jisung. However, it’s just the truth in itself that he has an issue with - you hooking up with Chan every now and then that is. It makes him feel uneasy and almost makes him feel like he’s doing something immoral by just sitting back and watching it happen.

The reality stings where he doesn’t like it so pushes himself from the edge of the bench and walks into Hyunjin’s body to retreat from his thoughts. Slightly taken aback but not oblivious to the strange display of emotions Jisung is presenting, Hyunjin sets the spatula down beside him and hugs his friend back.

“You okay?” He questions, concern dripping all over his face.

Jisung nods his head on his chest, “yeah. Just socialising, now I’m tired.”

It wasn’t a lie, but not the truth either. Regardless, Hyunjin takes his word for it without thinking twice about it. He had completely forgotten why Jisung had gone to see Chan for in the first place.

“Wanna nap together?”

“Didn’t you just wake up?” Jisung pulls one arm away from Hyunjin’s body while the other still rests there so that he can rub his eyes.

"Well," Hyunjin looks away from him. "That's beside the point. Just...missed you is all too.”

"Cute," he grumbles, ignoring what the weight of those words truly means. "I should pack for next week though because knowing me, I'll leave everything until the last minute."

Hyunjin lets out a long sigh. He hasn't even thought about putting a suitcase together yet either, "true. I should probably start packing as well."

"Okay then let’s both get ready," Jisung looks up at him before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Hyunjin's lips, slowly pulling away and says quietly; "see you in Jeju."

Hyunjin responds, look at him, “see you in Jeju.”

I strictly forbid and do not permit ANYONE or any user on any platform to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr or to any other online platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin x jisung #rosiewritesskz #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut

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erosuguru · 9 months

Text

Shiu word vomit, he's cute

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI, Shiu and reader are married, Toji calls reader sweet thing/beauty, suggestive near the end, implied toji x reader, 1k words

"Oh god.." Your husband, Shiu, groaned quietly to you as he turned away. You followed curiously and asked."What's wrong?"

He took a moment, debating on whether he should tell you or not before he tipped his head in one direction subtly. "Don't look now, but you see the big guy over there?" He whispered to you, and you waited a moment before taking a subtle glance at the man, disguising your peeking as just reaching over to pick a product off the shelf.

"He's from work."

"So a colleague?" Shiu nodded at your words. You smiled and nudged him gently. "You scared me. I thought he was your boss or something.."

Just as Shiu prepared an answer to you, he stopped when he noticed the man began approaching you two. "God- just ignore him–"

"This guy bothering you, ma'am?" The man asked you specifically, a grin on his face as he examined you. You stuttered for a moment and shook your head. "Oh no- he's my husband!"

"Very funny, Fushiguro.." Shiu wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closely to him as the man, Fushiguro, let out a chuckle. "You're married? To this sweet thing? Bullshit."

Warmth bloomed at your cheeks. You waved off the compliment. "Oh, he's not all bad. Sure, I'd love for him to put away the cigarettes, but it's not a dealbreaker." Shiu pouted at you. You only gave him a glance that said,'What? I'm right!'

"I'm not sure we met, Fushiguro, was it?" You asked as Shiu seemingly refused to introduce the two of you. You held up your hand, offering the man a polite handshake.

The man took your hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the top of your hand. "Yeah, but for a beauty like you? Call me Toji."

"Back off Fushiguro, she just said I'm her husband." Shiu's arm tightened around you as you took your hand back. You settled a hand over Shiu's and squeezed gently."So - you two work together? You two must be pretty close then!" You pointed out lightheartedly, noticing a glare in your husband's gaze.

"Not close enough to know he married! I'm kinda hurt here, Shiu!" Toji mocked, and Shiu rolled his eyes at the tone. "Right, we've got grocery shopping to get to, so I'll see you."

You knew your husband's work, you knew not to interject as long as he was careful and came home in one piece, this man exuded an aura screaming at you not to invite him into your home, no doubt he does the dirty work in this partnership.

Toji frowned once at Shiu. "Hmph, sure, whatever." Glancing at you, the same grin stretched over his features; the more he smiles at you, the more you notice that scar over his lip. "It was a pleasure meeting you, miss~"

"Ah, yes! You too!" Was all you could blurt out as Shiu dragged you away, holding you closely and taking away the shopping basket from you. Shiu let out a sigh as soon as you two were out of earshot, he mumbled under his breath. "Can't keep his dick in his pants for 5 seconds.."

"Shiu?!" You yelped at your husband's crude language, making sure no one was around to hear him say that– especially not his work friend. "What? You seriously didn't see the way he was watching you?" Your husband asked as he turned to you fully. His physique took a familiar interrogative stance, one you were used to whenever he'd try to get answers from you.

"What? He just introduced himself and said I was pretty! Nothing more!" You folded your arms, concerned by this sudden territorial behaviour. Shiu continued. "He was practically slobbering over you, staring at you like some discount wagyu beef or something.."

You squinted at him. "What's with that comparison? That was so random.. wait- are you calling me a piece of meat?!" You blushed heavily, feeling embarrassed. He panicked in turn.

"No! No, no, honey, listen– I didn't mean that, I just mean you're gorgeous, okay? And he wasn't exactly respecting that ring on your finger.." his explanation clarified his intention, but you were still offended at his claims. You scoffed at him and turned away.

"Too late, you revealed what you really think of me!" You busied yourself with browsing across the items on the shelf. Your husband wrapped his arms around your waist, setting his head on your shoulder."Honey, I was kidding, I'm sorry, okay? I just got a little... jealous." He spat the word out, unable to believe he was acting like a possessive child over a toy because Toji of all people.

"... fine, but I'm still mad at you!" You gave up. He can tell even after you announced your anget to him, He was always so clear with his intentions and words. This time, it was really a slip of the tongue. He kissed your cheek. "There's my girl, come on, let's finish up and go home.."

You turned to him with a small smile. "You were nagging me to go with you when we were home. Why the rush to get back now?" Shiu hummed, thinking of how to word his answer properly while lowering himself right next to your ear. "I think I need to fuck you to remind you who's your husband~"

You gasped and slapped his chest, he laughed at your flustered state as you could only spout out "SHIU!" In a harsh whisper. "What? Its not a big deal, we're husband and wife, we fuck all the time."

His vulgar language frustrated you and aroused you at the same time as you squirmed while his arms tightened around you. "Maybe we should go back and invite him for dinner, make him watch me fuck you after that.."

Sputtering, you took the basket from him with a pout and turned away as he followed you. "Come on! I'm just messing with you!"

"Time and place, Shiu!!"

Unknown to you both, Toji listened intently to your exchange in the very next aisle and hummed, biting his bottom lip subtly as the idea took root in his head. He hoped you two would invite him to dinner at some point.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #shiu kong x reader #kong shiu x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #idk what to tag fuggin uuuuuuhhhh im hungry

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01zfan · 1 month

Text

don’t waste it pt. 2 | l. sh

idol!sohee x idol!reader | 8.6k words

continuation from part one here! hope u guys enjoy hehe.

contains: semi public, love confessions, oral (f. receiving), pda, making out

“sohee…fuck…you gotta leave.”

you and sohee both knew it was time to go. if you had half a mind you would’ve looked above the door frame to see the time. every minute that ticked by was a minute closer to when sohee was supposed to be onstage. he had an award to present in fifteen minutes and you had to be in your seat in ten. you imagined your members looking around the seating area for you, too shy to ask staff if they’ve seen you around. they were good idols but they were unbelievably meek like most girls your age were. they didn’t have to be bold—that was your job as the leader. you had responsibilities but instead you were leaning against a table while your friend ate you out.

using the word friend seemed to extremely undermine what sohee was to you. the lack of contact over the years of training and promoting made the title friend seem presumptuous. but the complexity and shared history was too much to describe him as a stranger. to call sohee anything with benefit attached was also a stretch, because it didn’t seem to benefit anyone to have you two ran around like classless z-listers while your managers searched high and low for you.

“you’re gonna be late.” you whispered.

sohee couldn’t be bothered, busy laving his tongue with you like he had all the time in the world. it’s not like he could’ve moved if he wanted to, your heels digging in his back kept him in place. he only hummed and lifted your ass, making you fully sit on the table to give him more access to blow cold air on your core. you shivered from the sensation, fighting everything in you not grab his hair. you had to respect the meticulously placed pins that kept his locks in place. if you messed it up he wouldn’t have enough time to fix it. you refused to have sohee looking like a fool on national television.

sohee’s hands on the top of your thighs had to apply force to separate them so he could raise his head. sohee looked up at you from your heat, the bottom of his face glossy.

“let me go and i’ll go.” sohee said simply.

sohee’s personality had changed from the last time you saw him. he was more confident in himself, nothing like the shy boy you had trained with. you don’t know what made him this way, maybe being in a successful boy group and constantly being praised for his vocal ability had that effect on him.

you’re sure you had your own personality change, something that came with being the leader and unofficial face of the group. you were the first one announced, your long awaited debut and depart from a renowned company to a smaller one became the talk of the town. you had articles and blog posts dropping about you daily, ranging from praise for not giving up on your dreams to skeptics debating your skills.

being virtually a nobody to a trending topic wasn’t the only turn your life had taken. you went from seeing everyone as competition to being responsible of six girls and occasionally writing songs for them. you were lucky it paid off well, a song you had written about wasting something precious did exceptionally well. it was an overnight success, becoming popular domestically and abroad. many people related it to someone in their life that they loved—but that was neither here nor there. when asked about it on variety shows you were able to relate the song to giving up fried foods.

it was that song that led you here in the first place. because of one single your group was a top contender for multiple awards that night. you remember feeling joy for your group, your girls were finally going to get the recognition they deserved. the joy and butterflies you felt died and rested like a stone in your stomach when you saw that sohee was the hosts for the show. the corpses of the butterflies turned to maggots the closer the award show got and you thought your anxiety would eat you alive. your recent confidence boost from being received well by the public abandoned you when you thought about seeing sohee again.

at the red carpet you saw sohee for the first time in years. you had to seem unbothered, having to stand next to him while he announced your group. you had to introduce yourself and bow to sohee like you didn’t know him and had to pretend like you had forgotten you were trainees together. he shook your hand and bowed to you on camera, congratulating you on making your debut and your success. it felt so odd hearing sohee talk to you as a senior, or him talking to you at all. you never considered you would ever be in the position of having to meet your old love affair again, much less on live television as it was broadcasted to anyone who would watch.

after your group exited from the red carpet you had to blow off steam. you let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding as knots formed in your stomach. you used the excuse of having to go to the bathroom as you split from the group. before you could hear confirmation you started walking the opposite way from your group and manager.

you felt dizzy roaming the halls like a ghost, weaving through the maze of dressing rooms bowing to everyone you passed by. you had to put on a smile each time you passed by someone trying hard to pretend like you weren’t on the verge of passing out. when you finally found an empty room you ran into it, ignoring the sign that read it was for hosts only.

the sterile white of the room made you feel like you were in a hospital, making you freak out even more. you were lucky to have a moment alone, a second to breathe away from everyone. the last thing you needed was for your group to see their fearless leader fighting off a panic attack by taking heavy breaths. you looked towards the wall as you tried to bring yourself back to earth. you couldn’t be bothered to look at the rest of the room to see if it was truly open. you were just hoping whoever was supposed to be in the room was away doing their job. you could see how hectic it was earlier. trash from food containers and used makeup wipes littered the tables and some made even made it to the floor.

as you scanned the chaos in the room you saw sohee was relaxed, feet propped up on the end of the couch as he looked at his phone.

you stood there in silence until he noticed you, shooting up from his seat so fast his clips almost fell from his hair.

”what are you doing here?” sohee asked.

he stood up from his seat on the couch to come to you. how lucky were you to be in this situation—nearing a panic attack while the reason for said panic attack looked right at you. when you were silent sohee gently grabbed you by the arm and pulled you fully into the dressing room, closing the door behind you.

“is everything alright?” sohee asked.

sohee knew you had to be half out of your mind to come and see him in a place where you could easily be found. but when you had that far off look in your eye and didn’t say a word his mood shifted. instead of demanding an answer he reached towards you timidly. you felt like a trapped animal while sohee reached to you, the instinct to leap away from him creeped up your back. but you stood there with wide eyes as you let his warm hands clasp around your cold fingers. his steadiness made the tremor go down, and the overall trembling in your chest began to slowly subside.

sohee guided you down on the armrest of the couch while you did everything in your power to steady your heart rate and breathing. sohee tried but failed to be of any help. he rubbed your cold arms and hands. it was still timid, like sohee was waiting for you to tell him to get away. it only made everything worse, having him so close to you. you saw your reflection in his eyes wide eyes, and your shared history showed like a movie in his blown out pupils. when he squatted next to you and put a hesitant hand on your thigh you don’t know why you reached for it so quickly.

sohee’s hands were rougher than before, but they still held yours the same. he mirrored the grip of your hand without a second thought, rubbing your back with the other. you did your breathing exercises, trying not to look too hard at sohee as he told you everything was going to be okay.

when you finally calmed down it was like the veil was lifted. you suddenly realized where you were, who you were, and what you were doing. you stood up from the couch so quickly that your vision spotted, ripping yourself from sohee’s hands. you composed yourself quickly, going into the mirror to fix strands of hair that were out of place. sohee kept a careful eye on you, still squatting next to the couch as you fixed your appearance. in the mirrors reflection you looked at sohee.

“you shouldn’t sit like that. you’ll wrinkle your pants.” you said to the mirror.

sohee stood up from his position and walked over to you. the pensive look in his eyes had subsided, replaced with annoyance as he walked over to you. sohee didn’t stop until he stood directly behind you, putting arms on either side of you to cage you between him and the table’s edge. sohee kept eye contact with you in the mirror as he stood behind you.

“are you alright?” he asked.

sohee slowly brought his chin down to rest on your shoulder as he asked his question. you imagined the trouble you’d be in if someone came in. you imagined your manager doing a headcount and realizing you were unaccounted for. sohee turned his gaze from the mirror to look at you. you continued to look in the mirror, but you could feel sohee’s eyes scan the parts of your face he could see. your manager was going to be so mad at you.

“you should go find your manager.” you said.

“being the leader has made you bossy.” sohee said.

he said the words into your hair, before making eye contact with your reflection in the mirror. you turned around to face him. his eyes remained calm, a playful glint that almost made you idignant.

“and being one of the youngest has made you careless.” you retort.

you don’t push back against sohee, staying in the place between him and the table. your eyes are wide from bewilderment nonetheless, amazed that sohee is trying to make a move on you in such a place. but he’s warm against your body, and his lips are so close to the places you’ve missed him the most. you try to think about all the consequences when sohee gets so close you can smell him.

“do you know what will happen if we get caught?” you ask.

sohee leans his body towards yours to push you against the table even more. his eyes fixate on your collarbone, then at all the spots your dress has left exposed. you let him eat you alive while you stand there trying to be reasonable.

“your dress is really pretty by the way.” sohee says.

he places a gentle kiss on your collarbone before moving to your neck. you both know he’s still hesitant, but when you react by putting his hand on the small of his back and pulling him closer he places another kiss. this kiss is wet and confident and your hand grips the fabric of his white button up. you can feel sohee smile as he presses a kiss to your neck.

you weren’t the same meek trainee that barely passed monthly evaluations anymore. you were the leader of the group that occupied the top of several charts because of songs you wrote. you were confident and had an aura that lured in the general public and a personality that was praised by fans. the persona your team carefully crafted came to you like second nature, so much to the point that it had become a part of who you were. but when you stood in front of sohee, when you felt his teeth press into your skin, you felt like you were the same vulnerable girl you were all those years ago. it was almost as scary as it was comforting, being able to be yourself when all you seemed to do these days was put on a show. but when sohee’s mouth tried to reach for yours you put a single finger on his lips to hold him back.

“you’re insane if you think i’m letting you ruin my makeup.” you said.

you had to hide your disappointment of not being able to kiss sohee by rolling your eyes. you don’t know how someone could be so careless, but at the same time you wanted nothing more than to make out with sohee like you were teenagers again. you should’ve pushed him off of you a long time ago to make your way to your seat. you should yell at him for putting you in such a position, you had more to lose now than ever. but the way sohee smiled against your finger made you lose all your nerve. his hand on the table moved to your hips and you tensed from feeling him. his fingers were gentle on your hips, but then he pressed so hard it began wrinkling your dress. you quickly smacked sohee’s hand away and he laughed at you.

“i just want to help you.” sohee fake pouts.

your hand goes to his bottom lip that juts out and you hold it in between your fingers. when you press harshly he doesn’t recoil, only continues to look at you as you add more pressure. your other hand goes to sohee’s and he holds it instantly.

“who says i need help?” you ask, still holding his lip.

you find it ridiculous to try to hide your emotions from sohee. even if you two weren’t always involved romantically, you trained together in close quarters. you danced together and ate together, went on trips and practice together. you two spent innocent unsupervised time together in between the kisses and the sneaking around. sohee knew what made you anxious and what your order was at the local fast food chain by heart—of course he knew you needed help.

“i know you, even if i haven’t seen you in so long.” sohee says.

words to combat his assumption fall flat. you don’t see a point in pretending anymore. you let go of his bottom lip and let your hand go to his cheek. if you get caught doing whatever sohee has in mind for you, you tell yourself it won’t be that big of a deal. you two were in the fifth generation of many groups before you, there’s no way it would be the first time someone was caught fooling around in a dressing room. you and sohee had also never been caught all the times before, and sohee had a look in his eyes that made you give in. so you detached your hand from sohees’ and started bunching your dress up delicately to not wrinkle the fabric too bad. his eyes started widening as he looked down at your newly exposed thighs.

“you have to be quick.” you said.

you thought you made yourself clear when you told sohee he had to be quick. when you first became the leader of your group the ability to tell people what to do felt awkward. commands came out quiet and like a suggestion more than an order. but the girls in your group respect you for some reason so they would listen after you told them once. your members spoiled you in that aspect; you had completely forgotten that rebels like sohee existed. which is why you were here now, gripping his shoulder to push him more into your heat. you were sure your manager was about to put a missing person’s out on you and sohee’s manager was going to kick in the door soon.

sohee had you on top of the table now, your back pressed against the glass of the mirror and your legs rested over his shoulders. you pressed your body against the cold glass while you haphazardly tried to grab something to steady yourself. you could feel the makeup brushes and wrappers that were on the table press against your skin. your dress had fallen from your hands at some point and the bottom of it partially covered sohee’s face as he continued make out with your folds. although he had energy like a bunny, he couldn’t stop his jaw from getting exhausted due to the exertion. it had been awhile since he’s done this too, his mouth was out of practice. sohee was just lucky that the innate part of him that knew how to please you was still there. sohee pulled away from you to see the death grip you had on the edgetable while your chest heaved. sohee started using his pointer finger and thumb to lightly pinch your clit, the same way you pinched his lip.

your eyes that were focusing on a ceiling light dropped down to see why sohee had stopped eating you out. you locked eyes with him, seeing how wide his eyes had gotten while he started to rub circles on your clit. he wasted no time putting two of his fingers inside of you too, going at a pace so fast it made everything on the table shake.

“just cum for me. so i don’t miss giving you your award.” sohee said.

his mouth went to your thigh, pressing his teeth against your supple skin while he sucked. you couldn’t stop your hand that went to his hair, grabbing the strands on top while you swiveled your hips against his fingers. he pulled out a finger to really feel you seize around his digit. you had to bite your lip to muffle the sound of your whines and sohee’s name falling from your lips. you knew your teeth would be stained and your lip combo was ruined, but that was better than having your cries be heard. sohee watched you with a slightly open mouth, mouthing the words caught in your throat. he continued to finger you through your orgasm, his finger coming out of you wet and glossy.

you still sat on the edge of the table as you caught your breath. your senses came back to you slowly. the feeling of your sweaty body in the tight dress made you uncomfortable, and you could feel your ruined underwear be moved back into place by sohee. he still was kneeled between your legs when he put your panties back on you, sucking on the same finger that was inside of you. you put on your best disgusted face while using two fingers to push on his forehead. sohee got the hint and moved from between your legs.

you got down from the table refusing his hand, doing your best to smooth out any wrinkles in your dress. sohee’s attempts at making himself look presentable failed. the hair on the crown of his head awkwardly sat up, some makeup on the bottom of his face was gone and his cheeks were flushed and rosy. you hoped that he would be able to get quick corrections from a stylist before making it onstage. you also suddenly hoped that you could talk to sohee about what had just happened, but you didn’t have time to worry about him. you had to be in a chair in two minutes. so while sohee was preoccupied fixing his hair clips and dusting off pants you were already out the door of the dressing room, picking up the end of your dress so you could jog to where you were supposed to be.

you were lucky you had found your manager just in time. by the look on her face you could tell she wanted to grab you by the ear and tell you off, but she didn’t have the time. instead she hurried you to your seat beside your members. you were apologizing profusely for being late when the show began again, suddenly silenced by the uproar of applause. you didn’t have a moment to adjust before going into professional mode, crossing your legs and clapping just like the cue sheets said.

it was hard to focus on the award show when your mind kept going back to where you were not even twenty minutes earlier. you could still feel the wet imprint of sohee’s lips on your thigh and you had to adjust yourself in your seat when you remembered sohee’s tongue deep inside of you. you kept going back to the sight of sohee’s head underneath your pushed up dress and the way you clutched the fabric helplessly in your hands. the quick flash of your group on the big screen and the venue erupting in cheers couldn’t even pull you from your trance. you saw sohee come onstage with another idol you debuted close in time to. at some point you had to actually start taking the time to learn the names of your colleagues.

you could hear a group of fans behind you make a collective cooing sound. you looked to the screen to see sohee smiling innocently at the camera. you could see some of his hair sticking up at the crown of his head. the sight broke you from your reverie and a small smile came across your face. you had to hide the smile quickly, lowering your head and masking it with a cough. when you looked down you could still make out small wrinkles from your dress where you were holding it with a death grip. both of you could your wrinkled garments and sohee could fix his untucked shirt but he couldn’t fix his hair that you messed up in the heat of the moment. you were wondering if there was still the taste of you on his tongue when you saw your group stand up and more cheering filled the room.

you looked up from your lap to see one of your members shoot you a quick look of confusion. your hesitation caused your group to hesitate too. they almost sat back down seeing you still seated, blindly following your lead like acolytes.your eyes quickly scanned the area around you as you stood up to join them. you were so busy that you missed your group had been announced to win record of the year. you wanted to yell at yourself for being so out of it. with all eyes on you all it took was one mistake for the public opinion to completely shift on you. you prayed you were able to play it off well with a shocked face and stiff body before finally standing up.

as your group headed for the main stage you saw yourself getting closer and closer to sohee. you were leading the pack, if you didn’t stop now you would inevitably have to take the award from him and another interaction between you and him would be broadcasted for the world to see. not talking to him almost made you have a panic attack after the red carpet, but after what happened in the dressing room if you got too close to sohee you might pass out. so you suddenly stopped at the very end, letting your confused members fill in the gap between you and the presenters. the youngest of your group ended up having to awkwardly take the award from sohee, something you’re sure you would get an earful of later. but it didn’t matter because you were able to compose yourself enough to do the groups introduction and seamlessly go through your heavily scripted acceptance speech.

when your group was done with the speech you felt the knots forming in your stomach again. you clear your throat and move your hand forward to let your members pass in front of you. they all go first and you could trail behind them, trying to make it seem like it was a calculated plan for you to stop so suddenly. you were clumsy bowing to every group you passed by, adrenaline from being onstage almost making you tip over your heels. you were incredibly grateful to make it back to your seats, waiting for the next part of the show to start.

“is everything okay?” your youngest member asked you.

her eyes were wide with worry as her gaze drifted to your clenched fists at your sides. you noticed then you were failing at your job as a nonchalant leader. two of your members were sharing a blanket to cover their over exposed legs and two others had resorted to using pillows. your body felt like it was on fire with embarrassment as you scanned the area around you for spare covering or a manager.

“let me get you guys some blankets.” you said standing up from your seat.

you saw a stacked pile of blankets neatly folded at a table in front of you. in any other case you would’ve asked a manager, but no one was around to help you. you prepared your soft and gentle voice to kindly ask whatever boy group was sitting at the table if they could spare the blankets for your girls.

just as you were approaching the table, sohee was doing the same. he kept his eyes locked on you, wondering what you were doing walking down the steps towards his group. his members saw him first, clapping their hands and giving him a thumbs up for presenting well. when they saw that sohee was looking past them, they all turned around to see what he was staring at.

before you could tap the shoulder of one of the men, suddenly six pairs of eyes were staring at you. yours went wide as an effect, suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of attenton. you felt like you should’ve known sohee’s members from the back of their heads to prepare yourself for the situation. you had even trained with some of them, spent the same amount of time with them as you did with sohee.

you believed you could’ve survived the moment before you saw the seventh pair of eyes looking at you. if you had come to your senses a minute earlier you could’ve asked for the blankets before sohee got back from presenting his award. but now where you were, standing next to the table while sohee stood on the other side, staring at him for a little bit too long. you imagined his members were staring at you too, wondering why you came to their table during a break in the show.

“sorry to bother you guys,” you politely pointed towards the folded blankets in the center of their table while still looking at sohee. “can i take these? for my group.” you said.

almost instantly they nodded, all of them reaching for the middle of their table. sohee was just a second faster than the rest of them like he already knew what you needed. with the stack of blankets in his hand he walked over to you casually. you did your best to ignore the way his members were looking at him approach you. their heads followed sohee’s every step, until he set the blankets in your outstretched hands.

“here you go.” sohee said.

sohee was lucky that his body blocked the view of his hand sliding between two blankets from his members. he was also lucky that your face showed shock only for a second before bowing and leaving.

you said a thank you before turning tail and heading back up the stairs to your members. you handed out the blankets with a smile on your face, hesitating between the second and third blanket to grab a neatly folded piece of paper in your hand. your members didn’t notice, too happy that their attentive leader got them what they needed.

you slid your note underneath your leg, keeping the folded piece of paper crushed between you and your seat. you were staring daggers to the back of sohee’s head the rest of the award show, trying to figure out why he would do something so risky. you wonder what the paper says. does he think you have the power to sneak away from your dorm and fuck him in a practice room like old times? you shake your head and try to enjoy the rest of the show. your group went on to win two more awards that night. one of your members cried and you wiped her tears while holding back ones of your own. you gave a heartfelt speech about how grateful you were for the people surrounding you. the crowd gave you a standing ovation and you shook your head, bowing deeply before leaving the stage.

when the awards are over your manager led your group to your dressing room. if she was frustrated with you for being absent it doesn’t show, she’s all smiles and giggles as she takes pictures of your group holding the trophies.

cameras are in your face when you get into the dressing room, filming behind the scenes content. some of your members cry and others take the time to sincerely thank fans for getting them this award. you stand in the corner of the room away from the prying cameras, opening the piece of paper that was held in your sweating hands.

i’ll be at our spot in the park.

you looked around quickly before tearing the piece of paper and throwing away the paper. you hid it underneath layers of garbage and smiled when the camera came to you. you had a little bit of a bigger smile when you thanked your fans and members for the awards, talking to the camera in your face with gratitude.

on the way back to the dorms your group was beaming with excitement from the award. you all ran your fingers over the engravings a thousand times, not believing it’s real. you and your girls talked about how much fun you were going to have in the future, and how this was only the beginning.

when your team’s car parked in the empty lot your manager gave your team a talk. she made sure to stress how much attention was going to be on your group now. your manager told your team how important it was to not be reckless, how curfew at the dorms would be enforced even harder. you looked to your members for their reactions—they all nodded understanding the stakes. you nodded too, acting like you weren’t going to be sneaking off as soon as you were left alone.

your manager also emphasized how important it was to strike while the iron was hot. your team was excited to hear that preparation for your comeback was starting tomorrow, a mere week after your promotions wrapped up. your team was happy but you had a sinking feeling in your stomach at the thought of trying to make a song that was even remotely as popular as your previous one. you knew you were the only one thinking such negative things in the car. maybe that’s why you were the leader, because of your habit of looking to the future. you still felt the prickle of excitement in the back of your mind. you were lucky to be at a place in your life where comebacks were consistent and you were a part of an award winning group. you were also seeing the love of your life tonight. there was no reason to be sad. so you nodded to everything your manager said, taking the time to thank her and your security guard for being with you guys since the beginning. your team followed your lead, thank you’s filling the company car.

you trailed behind your team as they were getting out of the car. before you could leave and be one step closer to seeing sohee your manager put a hand on your arm to stop you.

“stay behind for a moment,” your manager looked at your group. “she’ll meet you guys inside.” your manager said.

your second oldest member closed the door and they followed her lead to the door.

you settled in the seat, nervous for what your manager might say to you. your manager looked to your security guard in the front seat before looking back to you. she puts a hand on your knee and your hand on top of it squeezing.

“congratulations. they wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.” your manager says.

you nod your head, trying to figure out where this conversation was going.

“but,” she sighs. “you’re distracted.”

you visibly tense underneath your manager’s hand. she pulls away and reaches to the cup holder to grab her phone. it is awkward and too quiet as your manager unlocks her phone, showing you some webpage.

it takes a while for you to read the title and to recognize that it’s a blogpost. nonetheless it’s about you, looking dazed during the whole award show. low quality photos show you distracted as your members uncomfortably shift in their seats from lack of coverage, you getting up from your seat late after your win is announced, and a picture of you looking at sohee’s table. your face heats up and you put your head in your hands shamefully. you think about high definition fansite photos that could be circulated, showing you distracted in the highest quality possible.

“what are they saying?” you groan.

“run of the mill stuff. the fans are downvoting hate.” your manager said

you let out another groan and your manager’s hand returns to your knee. she shakes it to bring your head out of your hands. you look at her and she’s sympathetic. you hope she feels for your situation, being so young while having so much attention on you.

“don’t think too much about it. i just want you to be aware.” your manager says.

you rub your eyes before putting your hands back down. you nod your head and your manager gives you a small smile. you smile back, trying to show her that you are very grateful for her. she has been with your group since the beginning, the one that advocated for you to become the leader of your group. she was your fan before you knew you were worthy of praise.

“try to relax tonight, alright? you deserve it.” your manager says.

she opens the automatic door for you and you climb out, waving them off as they leave your driveway. once the car is gone you make your way to the entrance of the dorm.

when you round the corner of your building you see your group, hiding to not be seen by your manager. they surprise you, causing you to jump back a little and grab your chest. they apologize and ask you what your manager said. you lie to them of course, they don’t have phones to see the blogposts. you just tell your group that your manager wanted to thank you for leading the group, which wasn’t completely false. your group agreed with your manager’s words, thanking you endlessly for being their fearless leader.

you didn’t feel like their leader when the lights finally turned off and everyone finally went to bed. your group was awake long after they should’ve been, taking pictures with your trophy on a shitty digital camera and talking about the future. you had to force them to go to bed, telling everyone they would regret it in the morning. you put your members to bed like you were their mother, patting their heads and telling them how happy you were to be in a group with them. when they were asleep you abandoned all sense of responsibility, getting ready in the dark to make the trek to see your old flame.

you were extremely lucky it was cold outside. it gave you a reason to bundle up in layer after layer, covering all proof of who you were. a long black coat hid your body and baggy pants and an oversized sweater hid your frame. a scarf his your neck and a hat helped you hide your eyes. by the time you put on your face mask you looked completely undetectable, just another person walking around the park to see someone you probably shouldn’t be seeing. your body was hot from the layers and the shame as you tip toed through your dorm, sneaking past your sleeping members to walk to the door. you had a moment where you believed you might’ve been caught, seeing one of the more restless girls move around underneath the sheets. but she settled back in and started snoring, and you thanked the gods for keeping her asleep.

once you made it outside you started thinking of excuses. in the off chance you were caught, you would be able to lie and say you needed to go on a quick walk to clear your head. it’s the least you deserved, after the stressful promotion period you had as a leader. you were lucky that the park sohee was talking about was so close to your building, just ten minutes if you walked briskly. the cold kept you moving a little faster, you knew you’d be there in no time. you thought about when you first moved into your dorm and you would jog past the place you were nervously walking to now. you would pass by the stone stairs that led to the gazebo and look up, memories of being there rushing through your mind. if you ran by it fast enough, you could see you and sohee there, kissing while you two watched the sunset.

you wondered sometimes if you’d ever have that life again. being a trainee was hell, but you were technically still free then. you could’ve walked out at anytime and lived a normal life. if someone saw you kissing a boy they would just keep walking by. but now, as you got closer and closer to the spot you thought about your life now. if you left the company and terminated your contract you wondered if you would still be a celebrity. would you still have to worry about the lack of privacy or the chance that someone could be lurking in the shadows, snapping pictures of you living life. you imagined blogposts of blurry photos taken at night of you and sohee. it would be a trending topic, and you could potentially put your members and your livelihood at risk. the fear made you slow down, almost paralyzed you. the soles of your shoes felt like they were glued to the paved path you walked on and it felt like the breeze was trying to push you back home. it wasn’t too late to turn around, sohee would be hurt but he would be okay. it was better being embroiled in a dating scandal.

you got ready to turn on your heels when you heard his voice. it was quiet and unsure, like there would be other people walking around the park this late at night.

“is that you?” sohee called.

you still debated on walking away. but when he called your name again, a little more desperate than the first time you looked up at him.

sohee’s fashion mirrored yours, clad in black with a hat and mask to hide all of him. you wonder how he got here. his apartment was further away, atleast over the bridge. did he have a phone now to call a taxi? did he walk here like you did? did he ask a manager to drive him here? you tried thinking about everything except for the risky situation you were in as sohee got closer and closer to you. eveything was telling you to run, follow the streetlights until you got back to your dorm. sohee’s steps were slow, each one loud as his foot made contact with the gravel path. he approached you like a wild animal, scared you would jump and run away.

when sohee was directly in front of you he lowered his mask. you gasped and looked around, reaching for the mask to bring it back up on his face. his hand went to your wrist, rubbing the little amount of skin you had exposed.

“no one is around. i checked already.” sohee said.

you let sohee’s hand move from your wrist further up, until his hand wraps around your bicep inside your jacket. his touch is warmer than the million layers you wear. you’re so caught up in how he massages your skin you let him bring you closer and closer, until your chests touch. sohee wraps his arm around you and you can’t stop yourself from relaxing against his chest. he rubs your back gently, and you feel like you are being taken care of since you became the leader of your group. the tenderness almost brings you to tears, somehow this is harder to do than fool around in an empty dressing room.

“congratulations. on your award.” sohee says.

you scoff and go further into sohee. his hand has reached further up into your jacket, resting on your bare shoulder.

“i’m not an idol right now.” you say.

you try to sound mad but you’re so quiet your voice is almost drowned out by the buzzing street lamps and the chirping cicadas. sohee hears you perfectly, tucking your head underneath his chin and nodding.

“i understand.” sohee says.

you two stay like that for awhile, hugging underneath the lights on a gravel path. you are passed by a couple and a runner who couldn’t care less. it’s comforting to see people uninterested in what you have to do. it’s almost like you are a trainee with sohee again, doing what you two please.

anytime a breeze comes by you go further into sohee’s chest, taking in a fresh whiff of him. he smells the same as he did when you were trainees, the fresh detergent mixing with something else. it was nothing you could ever pinpoint, and sohee withheld the fragrance he wore like his life depended on it. whatever it was—whether it was just him or a perfume—he was intoxicating nonetheless.

when another person passes by sohee pushes you away gently by your shoulders. he goes to your hand, gripping it so tight it’s almost painful.

“do you remember when we first came here?” sohee asked.

you only nodded your head. you couldn’t stop remembering even if you wanted to. each step you took to the spot you were reminded of walking down the paths in the summertime with sohee by your side, taking both of your hands into his. you looked up from underneath the brim of your hat to look at him. sohee’s hands were rocking yours back and forth as he rocked on his heels. you could feel that sohee’s nervousness manifested in a different way than yours.

you continue to look at eachother in silence, listening to the cicadas and the occasional sound of someone making their way down the gravel path. each time you hear the grinding sound of a shoe making contact with the rocks you snap your head in that direction. when you turn your head again, sohee lets go of your hands to rest on your face.

“it’s just me and you.” sohee says.

it’s not a command, he says it light and in a comforting way. he does it to try and quell your nervousness, so you nod to make him feel better. you still feel the creeping feeling behind you, like someone is hiding in the tree line next to the gazebo. you try to focus on sohee’s warm hands and your hands that rest on his waist. you focus on his lips, and think about if they still taste like you.

“do you want to talk about what happened earlier today?” sohee asked.

you nod again.

“i know it was irresponsible. and i’m sorry.” sohee says.

you shake your head and grip sohee’s hands tighter.

“it was both of us.” you start moving sohee’s hands back and forth as the rest of your thought rests on the tip of your tongue. “we just have to be more careful in the future.” you say.

sohee tilts his head as he listens to what you say.

“future?” sohee asks.

his words lift at the end in confusion when you nod your head.

“you’re my comfort and i don’t want to lose you.” you blink slowly, trying to will away the tears. “i’m willing to make it work if you want to, too.” you say.

sohee slowly lets go of your hand and puts his hands on your shoulders. you let him lightly apply force, pushing you back until you lean against the wall. you stay there completely still, scared that if you move you’ll have to say goodbye. you both find your own way to avoid the inevitable. sohee messes with the sleeve of your jacket while you try and grab his hand. you both take the time to look into eachothers eyes, trying to find the answer there. sohee looks comforting underneath the streetlight as he comes closer to your face. it reminded you of the times when you were free to act the way all people your age did. you remember being in this exact same position with sohee, waiting for him to kiss you after a long day of shameless flirting. in any other instance you would’ve been heartbroken at the thought of this being your last time together. but he looked like your future underneath the flickering lights and the way he held your hand made you believe he was here to stay.

it takes you by surprise when you start to reveal more of yourself to sohee. it starts you reveal more of yourself to sohee, taking off your hat and fully taking off your mask to stuff it into the pocket of your jacket. sohee smiles even bigger than he was before. you feel so comfortable that you would’ve shed all your layers even in the brisk cold. but you decided to show sohee how comforted you were by bringing him in for a kiss.

you thought that you were pent up but it was nothing compared to the way sohee kissed you back. instantly he responded to your kiss, pushing into your lips. his face went to your hands but then found their way to the hood of your jacket. sohee was in a hurry, his hands trying to find a way to your burning bare skin so he could touch it. while one hand brought you in closer by the hood of your jacket the other hand slipped into your jacket until his hand found the back of your neck. while sohee’s hands guided your lips against his your hands started digging into his hips.

sohee didn’t know whether it was because he was extremely eager or if he got so dizzy from kissing you that he lost his footing. it wasn’t bad, just a step forward into your while you let his tongue graze your teeth. the step caused you to lose your balance but sohee quickly caught you, moving you against the wall to cage you in. you felt even more secured in this spot, your mind running rampant. you thought you didn’t care if someone was watching, as long as you were able to keep kissing sohee. so you let him pin you against the wall while he wedged his legs between yours. you had to practice self control to not put your body weight on his thigh and let him kiss you until you became a mess. you just let his leg stay there and you let your legs clench around his.

he tilted his head and you responded by tilting yours so sohee could take your bottom lip into his mouth. he sucked on the skin harshly, letting his teeth lightly press into your pout. you opened your eyes for a moment to see his closed in bliss. while he sucked on your lip you let yourself catch your breath. your sweaty chest heaved underneath the confines of your clothes, suddenly too hot even in the frigid temperature. your hands found a way underneath sohee’s layers of clothes as you gripped his waist. you were moaning pitifully now, and you let your weight rest on sohee’s thigh wedged between your knee. sohee lowered his head with your body, not breaking contact with your lips for a second.

when sohee detached from your lips he continued to kiss you with vigor. it was the same way he kissed your folds in the empty dressing room while your career was waiting for you in your seat. you wished that doing something wrong didn’t feel so good as sohee moaned into your mouth. you let out whimpers of your own and sharp intakes of air filled the space between you as you desperately tried to catch your breath. sohee’s hand on the back of your neck was only there for comfort as you got back into the groove of kissing him. you took control for a moment, letting a hand come up to grab a handful of his hair. you tugged at the roots only once, and sohee’s hands moved to your cheeks to show you how intense everything felt. his thumbs pressed into the apples of your cheeks as the cicadas and sounds of your lips making contact filled the night air. his hands couldn’t stop roaming, going from your face to finally pulling you in by the small of your back. you leaned back away from the wall from the support and sohee leaned over you to not break contact. each kiss lit something inside of you and felt brand new—you wish you could kiss sohee underneath the buzzing streetlamp forever.

when sohee finally pulls away you can’t bring yourself to let go of him. both of you are dumbstruck, wide-eyed with your mouths agape. your lips are both swollen and glossy from spit as you catch your breaths. you can see sohee’s tongue in his mouth poke out to wet his lips and you only start breathing harder. puffs of white vaporized air fills the night as you huff out uneven breaths. you and sohee end up leaned against the wall side by side. you are looking up to the streetlamp and the moon when sohee reaches over to grab your hand. you look to sohee, vaporized breath dissipating in between the two of you.

“this means you’re my girlfriend again, right?” sohee says in between breaths of air.

you still have a dumbfounded look on your face as you nod looking at him. you didn’t have the words for it now, but you knew sohee would be yours forever. you two would make it through the time apart and hectic schedules as idols. even if it you both went through your own trials and tests of strength you remained steadfast, refusing to waste it any longer.

#01zfan: sohee #seriez: dont waste it #sohee smut #riize smut

158 notes · View notes

maraudersmyloves · 2 months

Text

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Pairing: Luke Castellan x reader

Warnings: Reader has long enough hair to be put in a clip, kissing, slight Loser!Luke shining trough

Word count: 1.3k

Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!

Disclaimer 2: Made this by listening to harry styles

"Hot summer Nights". :☆｡ﾟ. ───

You can't find your banana clip. You were so sure that you put it on your bed but you just can't find it. Now, every other day you would just put your hair in a ponytail or claw clip but today isn't any other day and your hair looks so long and voluminous in it so you can't help but freak out over it. You and your mom should've left five minutes ago but at this point, it was expected for you two to be at least 20 minutes late. It's not like you're mom's friend minded. You did though, because you may harbor a small crush on Luke, your mom's friend's son, and showing up later means less time with him. While you see him every summer, for some reason you two only talk at events your mom drags you to, not that you mind anymore.

You could easily go up to him at camp but he was always busy and you often got swept away from your own friends, forgetting that you even wanted to talk to him. Only when you get home and your mom tells you about an event, this time her friend's birthday, do you feel your stomach erupt in butterflies. You spent days planning your outfit, taking this as an opportunity to make him remember you at camp and come up to you.

Oh, gods you sounded desperate. You didn't really have a reason to be, with all the boys fawning over you at camp, getting asked out on the daily with bad pick-up lines that get played off as jokes and flowers that you truly appreciate. Still, you double-check your appearance in the full-length mirror next to your pink bed, overloaded with pillows. The outfit is a combination of all the items you usually get compliments on. A short jean skirt that perfectly hugs your hips and has some light fraying at the bottom, paired with a square-necked black crop top that you were told looks especially good on you. You're wearing Mary janes that are slightly covered by your white leg warmers that have a matching cardigan. You do look good, but it would be perfect with the missing clip

You want to start the search again but your mom calling your name interrupts you and you leave your room with a last scan to see if the goddess of luck, Tyche might just be on your side. Luckily, she is and you see it on the top of your lamp for some reason.

You can hear your mom mutter something about your skirt when you step out the door but she's too stressed to get there on time to give your lecture, which you quite honestly bet on when picking out the outfit. Your mom is dressed in a long flowing dress that looks really pretty. You tell her as much and she gives you a small smile while getting in the car. Your mom has put on the radio as she always does while you're watching the city wash away around you.

You and your mom don't share a word just doing your respective and sometimes singing along to some classics on the radio and before you know it you've arrived.

When you walk in it's the usual mix of giving me compliments, making comments about how you've grown so much, hugs, kisses, and what they think is subtle judging. For a second you debate if you should've worn jeans but judging by the way you could feel Luke's eyes on you all throughout the greetings and small talk, it was worth it. When you finally find the time to walk towards him he has a little blush, from you or the sun, on his cheeks.

The first minutes between you two are always awkward and filled with people coming up to you two and talking about how you haven't changed a bit and telling childhood stories and habits you two used to have. Apparently Luke used to push you on your little wooden horse chair when you complained about the fact that it wouldn't move. She shows you pictures of the two of you at around six and reminisces in memories you've already heard at least 30 times, before getting pulled away by her husband who insists she has to try the meat he just grilled.

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You and Luke have managed to sneak off to the roof with a bottle of champagne that gets passed between you two. "He should have stayed a planet," Luke argues after you somehow went from annoying parent to planets, to if Pluto should have stayed one. "No Luke, he isn't big enough to orbit properly it would be stupid to let him be one anyway." He passes you the bottle, purposely letting your fingers brush, while thinking how to argue against that, without getting distracted by the way his name sounds wrapped around your tongue, before sighing and stating that he simply doesn't care about stupid planet requirements and that Pluto shouldn't feel left out. You giggle causing him to look at you with stars in his eyes.

He loves your laugh and the way your eyes crinkle and sparkle with Humor. He hates that you don't talk to him at camp and he knows he could change that by simply going up to you and talking or even just holding eye contact but there are so many boys fawning over you and he's pretty sure he doesn't stand a single chance. You're so pretty, especially tonight with your mini skirt he just can't rip his eyes from, except of course when he stares at your glossy lips that he wishes he could kiss and bite at. He's doing it again as you speak, "He doesn't have real feelings, you know." "And how would you know, smartass" he teases causing you to lightly push away his grinning face while giggling. His cheek feels tingly where you touched it.

He pretends to have been hit by something as powerful as a minotaur and leans back to make it look as if he is about to fall off the Roof. You quickly grab his arm to pull him back towards you while he laughs. "Oh, fuck you. Don't scare me like that." As you realize how close you're hugging his arms to you you quickly let it while distracting yourself by looking at the ground.

"I'm sorry, my love."

my love

You look up at the Nickname, your eyes filled with something he can't quite decipher but beautiful still. Everything around you seems to slow down and his hand moves to your cheek as if it has free will. Your whole body is on fire as you ask, "My love," questioning if he meant it the way you wish he did. Instead of answering he leans close searching your eyes for allowance. When you nod, he connects your lips eagerly and lets his hand wander down your body before settling at your hips. You gasped in surprise, even though you knew what was coming actually feeling his pillowy lips on yours was completely different.

You sink your hands into his hair and tug slightly making him whimper. Your body gets swallowed by the warmth that sits around him like a halo and your body melts into his as if trying to turn into one single organism. He tries to pull you impossibly closer by the waist. You pull away for a second to take in a deep breath that feels like coming up from water full of life and colors and returning to the grey surface. You admire his flushed face. His Hair is tossled with your Hands still gripping his curls, and his Lips are swollen and look like you bit them, maybe you did, they're covered in your lipgloss and you smile placing a kiss on his cheek, leaving a mark. His Eyes are filled with stars as he looks at you. "We should do this again, sometime."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Luke's mom when she sees him with your lipstick on his cheek:

#luke castellan #fluff #headcanon #writing #fanfic #percy jackson #luke castellan x reader #camp half blood #luke castellan x you

307 notes · View notes

itsmealaiah · 3 months

Note

The reader has “problems” with her boyfriend and she mentions it to Bill (her friend) and he is in love with her. He takes advantage of the moment to put things in her head to make her leave him, but she insists that she loves him, until Bill convinces her (they have gentle sex) and Bill sends a picture of the act to the reader's boyfriend, like, look how much your girlfriend loves you, and a picture of her riding Bill comes out. (Bill 2006) 😜

yes!!!

Promiscuous boy

tags/ warnings: cheating, smut, riding dom! bill, explicit photo taking, nude (sort of)

MDNI ⚠️

use is only for this blog. Not to be translated into any other languages, or used in any other capacity other than here. if you're stealing works, stop. we know.

pairing: bill x fem

wc: 2.5k

Bill's POV:

As I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, I couldn't help but wonder how things had come to this. My thoughts drifted back to the conversation I'd had with Y/N earlier today. She'd been venting about her problems with her boyfriend, and somehow, in the midst of that, she'd mentioned how she sometimes wished she could just get away from it all. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy course through my veins at the mere mention of her saying those words.

I'd tried to play it cool, to hide the fact that deep down, I was absolutely head over heels for her. But as I lay there, my heart racing, my palms sweaty, I couldn't help but wonder if this was the moment I'd been waiting for. The moment where I could finally make my move, to show her how much I cared.

But then again, I knew that wasn't fair to her. She was in a relationship, and I had to respect that. Even if it killed me. So instead, I found myself formulating a plan. A plan to make her see just how much she meant to me, without pushing her too far. Because even though I loved her, I wanted her to be happy, too.

And then, like a bolt of lightning, it struck me. An idea so devious, so twisted, that I couldn't help but feel a wicked grin spread across my face. It was risky, sure, but if it meant getting her to realize just how much she really did love me…well, then it'd be worth it.

I sat up on the bed, my heart hammering in my chest as I pondered the details of my plan. I would send her a text, one that would make her question her feelings for her boyfriend, make her wonder if she was really as happy as she thought she was. And then, when she was feeling vulnerable, when she needed someone to lean on, I would be there for her. I would show her what true love felt like.

I quickly composed the message, my fingers trembling with anticipation as I tapped out the words on my phone. When it was finished, I hesitated for just a moment, debating whether or not this was the right thing to do. But in the end, I couldn't help but push send.

Now came the hard part: waiting. I knew that as soon as she read my text, her entire world would be turned upside down. I just hoped that she'd come to me, that she'd see me as the safe haven she needed. As I waited, my heart raced, my stomach twisted into knots. Every time my phone buzzed with an incoming message, I held my breath, hoping against hope that it was from her.

But minutes turned into hours, and still nothing. I began to wonder if maybe I'd gone too far, if I'd pushed her away for good. It was only then that I realized just how much of myself I'd put into this plan, how much I'd been willing to risk for the chance to be with her. And as much as it hurt, as much as I wanted to just crawl into a hole and die, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride in myself for having the courage to try.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, my phone lit up again. Her name flashed across the screen, and my heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath before opening the message, bracing myself for the worst. But instead of the angry retort I was expecting, I found myself staring at two , simple words: "Come over."

I didn't hesitate. In a matter of moments, I was out the door and on my way to her place. My heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and fear as I hurried down the street. What if she'd changed her mind? What if she didn't really want me there? But as I rounded the corner and saw her standing by her window, waiting for me, all those doubts vanished. She smiled as she opened the door, and for a moment, it was like the world stopped spinning.

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, and we stood there in the hallway, just looking at each other. She was so beautiful, even when she was upset. Her eyes were red from crying, her lips slightly swollen from biting them. I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms and never let her go.

"You know I'm here for you, right?" I finally managed to say, my voice barely a whisper.

She nodded, biting her lip again. "I know," she replied, her voice shaking. "It's just…I don't know what to do. I feel so confused."

I took a step closer, my hand reaching out to brush a stray hair from her face. "You don't have to decide anything right now. You can just…talk to me. I'm here to listen, and to help in any way I can."

She nodded, seeming to steel herself. "Okay." She took a deep breath and began to speak. "It's just…I feel like I'm losing myself in this relationship. I used to have dreams and goals, but now all I do is worry about pleasing him and making him happy. I feel like I'm just existing, you know?"

I nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. "And you're starting to wonder if that's really what you want?"

She looked down at her feet, her shoulders slumping. "I don't know. Part of me still loves him, and I feel like I owe it to him to try and make things work. But another part of me…I don't know, I just feel so lost."

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close. "You don't have to figure it out tonight. Or even tomorrow. You can take all the time you need." I kissed her hair, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent. "And you know I'll be here for you, no matter what you decide."

She sniffled, her body trembling slightly against mine. "Thank you," she whispered. "For being here. For being you."

We stood there in the hallway for what felt like an eternity, just holding each other and breathing in the comfort of our connection. Even though we didn't say anything else, I knew that in that moment, she felt safe and loved. And as I held her, I couldn't help but hope that one day soon, she would realize that she had always belonged with me.

Late into the night, we finally made our way to the bedroom. The moonlight streamed through the window, casting a soft glow over her skin as she climbed beneath the sheets. I took off my clothes, revealing the hardness that had been throbbing between my legs all night, and crawled into bed beside her.

She turned toward me, her body warm and welcoming against mine, and I couldn't resist any longer. I kissed her deeply, my hands roaming over her skin, memorizing the feel of her flesh against mine. As we continued to kiss, my hands drifted lower, tracing the outline of her hip before moving higher, over her smooth stomach and up toward her breast.

She moaned into my mouth, arching her back slightly, and I knew she was ready. I pushed her gently back against the pillows, my weight pinning her down as I took one of her nipples between my lips. She cried out, her hips bucking off the bed, and I could feel the heat emanating from between her legs.

With one hand still busy teasing her breast, I reached down with the other, slipping a finger into her wetness. She was so warm and tight around me, and as I began to move my finger in and out, she met my rhythm, arching her back even more, her moans becoming louder and more desperate.

Her body tensed beneath me as she reached a peak, her inner walls clenching tightly around my finger. I could feel her orgasm pulsing through her, and I knew I had to be inside her. I lined myself up and slowly, carefully pushed into her, feeling her tightness engulf me.

Her breath hitched as I began to thrust gently, the friction between us sending waves of pleasure through us both. I leaned forward, my lips finding her neck, sucking and nipping as I moved faster, deeper. Her hands dug into my shoulders, her nails scoring my skin, but I didn't care. I was lost in the feel of her body, the taste of her skin, the way she moaned my name over and over.

She began to meet my thrusts, her hips rising to meet mine, her body arching off the bed, her breasts pressed against my chest. The sound of our skin slapping together filled the room, a primal rhythm that seemed to echo through the entire house. I could feel the tension building inside her, and as she neared her second orgasm, I grew more desperate, more determined to make her feel the release she craved.

Her body tensed again, her inner walls clenching tightly around me, and with a groan, I felt my own climax building, threatening to break free. I thrust harder, faster, willing myself to hold out just a little longer, knowing that the moment I came, she would as well.

Her nails dug deeper into my shoulders, her breath hot against my neck. "Oh, God, I'm going to…" she moaned, her voice strained and breathless. And then, with a cry that seemed to shake the very foundation of the bed, she came, her body convulsing around me as her orgasm washed over us both.

Her muscles tightened, her inner walls milking me in time with her climax, and I could feel my own release building within me, unstoppable and all-consuming. I thrust harder, faster, wanting to feel the full force of her orgasm as I joined her in ecstasy.

Her moans became more urgent, more primal, as she felt the tension building inside her again. I could feel her body tensing, readying for another wave of pleasure, and with a groan of pleasure, I let go, pouring myself into her as she came again, her nails digging into my skin as she arched her back off the bed.

Our bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each thrust and moan and gasp echoing through the room. I could feel the sweat begin to bead on my forehead, trickling down between us, as we lost ourselves in the sensation of being so completely connected.

With one hand, I reached up, cupping her breast, rolling her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, eliciting a gasp from her as she felt the sensation anew. She responded by digging her nails deeper into my shoulders, her hips undulating beneath me, urging me on.

Her eyes were closed tightly, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and as I watched her face, I felt a wave of possessiveness wash over me. I wanted her, all of her, and in this moment, she was mine. I could feel the strength and resilience of her body, the heat emanating from her core, and I knew that there was no one else in the world who could make me feel this way.

As we moved together, lost in the rhythm of our bodies, I felt a tenderness welling up inside me. It was a feeling of safety and comfort, of being completely accepted and loved for who I was. She made me feel alive, made me feel like anything was possible, and in this moment, I knew that I never wanted this to end.

Her nails scratched at my back, drawing little circles that sent shivers down my spine, and I could feel myself starting to lose control again. Her hips rose up to meet mine, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and I knew she was close. I picked up the pace, thrusting deeper, harder, wanting to feel her body surrender to the release she so desperately sought.

And then, with a cry that seemed to rip from her very soul, she came again, her body arching off the bed as she convulsed around me. Her nails dug into my skin, her hips bucked wildly, and I could feel the heat and the power of her orgasm wash over me, through me, consuming every inch of my being.

As her body finally relaxed, collapsing back against the bed, I could feel myself spilling inside her, my own release filling her, claiming her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath, and I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of her, at the connection we had just shared.

Her fingers trailed lightly up my back, her nails tracing circles over my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I could feel her breath hot against my neck, her body still moving with the aftershocks of her orgasm. I wanted this moment to last forever, to feel her weight pressing down on me, to be lost in the sensation of being so completely connected.

She shifted her hips slightly, grinding against me, and I couldn't help but groan aloud. Her moan vibrated through me, a reminder of just how much power she held over me in this moment. I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the night making love to her like this, feeling her body move against mine, tasting her skin, inhaling the sweet scent of her arousal.

But as much as I ached to remain buried inside her, I knew that the time had come to take a step back, to catch our breath. Reluctantly, I withdrew from her, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I gazed down at her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her lips parted in a soft, satisfied smile.

With a sigh, I reached for my phone, scrolling through the images until I found the one I wanted: a close-up of her face, her eyes half-closed, her lips parted in ecstasy, her cheeks flushed with desire. I snapped a photo, capturing this moment, this connection between us. And then, leaning down, I pressed my lips to hers, letting her taste herself on my skin.

She tasted like sweetness and sin, like the forbidden fruit that had been denied to me for far too long. Her lips moved against mine, her tongue darting out to meet mine, and I could feel the heat of her body, the strength of her presence. I could feel the aftershocks of our lovemaking still coursing through my veins, a testament to the power we had just shared.

As we kissed, I sent the photo to her boyfriend, using her number. It was a small act of revenge, a way to remind him that she was capable of pleasure, that she was not his possession. And as I pressed send, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction, of empowerment.

She pulled away from me, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her eyes still glazed over with passion. She reached for her phone, a small frown creasing her brow as she read the message. I watched her expression carefully, waiting for her reaction. Would she be angry? Sad? Or would she understand the game we were playing, the power dynamics at play?

"You did what?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Just wanted to make sure he knew what he was missing."

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x you

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adventuringblind · 9 months

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Nerospicy has never been so cute

Oscar Piastri x Nerodivergent!reader

Genre: fluff... angst if you squint.

Request: nope but they are open! Max, Charles, Oscar, Lando, George, Daniel and Pierre are on the list. Also open for poly fics if anyone is interested.

Summary: just cute fluff between Oscar and his autistic coded partner

Warnings: idk people who can't mind their own business IG

Notes: This is self-indulgent, and I do not care. I just wanna feel supported, okay? T_T

Also, I've sent up my account to let tips be enabled. I was debating whether or not to say this because i dont want to sound like im begging, but frankly, people opinions do not matter me me. If you like my writing and want to support me, please consider tipping my posts or my blog. I put a lot of effort into my writing, and it would mean the world to me. Obviously, I won't have my feeling hurt if you ignor this but I wanted to put it out there.

Masterlist

You weren't sure if you'd ever fit in with people. Something about you always felt different from others.

Maybe it was that you didn't understand their antics. Their jokes weren't funny to you, or you didn't understand them. They seemed you as sensitive, but you're really just incredibly empathic.

You were interested in things that they weren't. You hated certain foods, textures, and feeling in general.

Then somtimes it all became too much. Alone in a dark room with headphones in. Attempting to soothe yourself from the overwhelming feelings running through your mind and body.

Your friends wanted to go out of a Friday night. Previously, you were feeling alright and decided to go with. Instantly regretting your decision as soon as you walked into the door of the club.

It was here that you met Oscar.

He didn't really want to be here. He'd given into the pleas of his friends who didn't want to go without him. He liked people and going out to have fun, but he wasn't in the mood right now.

He noticed you sitting at the bar nursing a drink. You looked like you wouldn't bother him, and the bar was already crowded, so he sat down on the stool next to yours.

You briefly looked over at him. Finding your drink to be more entertaining than the male next to you.

You were getting more overwhelmed by the second. The discreetly hidden earbuds only help so much. The vibration of the bass and the lights combined made you want to puke. You wanted to get out of there, but your body was ever so slowly shutting down.

Oscar noticed how your body was shrinking into itself. He didn't want to stare, but it was obvious you were in distress.

"Are you alright?" Asked the Australian.

You didn't look up at him, and words became too difficult, so you settled for shaking your head no.

Oscar thought about it for a minute. "Do you want to get out of here? I'm not in the mood to party, and you don't seem like you are either." He grimaced at how awkward he felt like he sounded. "I promise I'm not a serial killer or something." He laughed but it was more at himself then anything.

Eager to leave, regardless of who the man was, you stood up and made your way towards the door. You didn't have a tab, just water in your glass to make you feel like you belonged.

Once outside the door, you breathe a sigh of relief. Less people, less vibration, and less light.

You wanted to cry, though. Your body still feeling everything.

"Do you need anything? A ride home even? I probably seem like suck a creep right now." Oscar rubs his temples.

For the first time, you fully examine the male. Shocked to see kind features and gentle eyes. He was wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans.

"Thank you." You managed. Not wanting him to feel like a weirdo any longer.

He paused and looked up at you. Wanting to find your eyes but noticing your eyes did not want to find his. "I'm Oscar, by the way." He reached out his hand for you to shake.

Which you did hesitantly. "I'm Y/N."

You had explained to Oscar that you didn't live close to here. Over an hour away at best. You'd been exploring the town with friends earlier in the day when they decided to end the night at the club.

He offered you a stay at his apartment for the night and then he could take you home in the morning.

"Actually, can I take you on a date first?" He'd found you intriguing and beautiful, and he didn't want this to be for one night.

You were nervous, to say the least, but when he offered to take you anywhere you wanted to go, the deal seemed appealing. Furthermore, there was a music store you wanted to look at that your friends had passed by. So when he offered, you pointed him in the direction.

"Can I ask you something?" His eyes never left the rode, and you were grateful for it. It helped the conversation flow easier for you.

"Sure." You shrugged.

"Why are you wearing earbuds?"

Oh. You dreaded this. Talking about the way your body and mind work had yet to end well.

Your hesitancy did not do unnoticed, so Oscar quickly followed up with "you don't have to answer if it's uncomfortable."

"Well, it's just that- loud noise makes me overwhelmed, and things like headphones help drown it out." You fumbled.

"Oh I use those at work too sometimes cause it can get loud."

He seemed so natural saying it. His calm demeanor helping you to read him a bit better.

He then proceeded to tell you about his job and ask questions about you. He was very clear when he spoke. Eventually helping you to wind down.

This guy you just met was taking you on a date. Was it a good idea to out yourself? Probably not, but if you didn't care for people opinions much. "I'm autistic."

"I was wondering that but didn't want to ask. I had a friend in school that was, and in some ways, you seem similar to him." He hit his head on the steering wheel. "I'm not trying to stereotype. I'm sorry that probably sounded rude."

You laughed at him. His response was one of the best you'd been given. "It's alright, it's actually kind of cool that you picked up on it."

When you arrived it the music store it was ten minutes to close. The records lined the walls, and boxes of CDs were packed to the brim. Not many people use them nowadays, but it felt comfortable in the little store.

You and Oscar browsed the music and talked about the different kinds of music you like. It felt natural. Even when you knew you were info-dumping, he just listened intently and asked questions about your interest.

Soon enough, the shopkeeper asked you both to leave. You waved a thank you and slid back into Oscar's car.

"Thank you for indulging me. I really enjoyed this." You were shocked to hear that come from him. Mainly because you felt like you talked his ear off.

The drive to his apartment was quiet, but not the awkward kind.

He opened the door for you when you arrived. His apartment was comfortable. It's not super empty or overly decorated. It's just comfortable.

"Right, so you can borrow some of my clothes for tonight and take the room, and I'll take the couch." He didn't even give you a chance to protest as he sped off to gether the essentials.

You two didn't do much sleeping that night. Wasting away the time. The clock moving two fast for your liking. You two spent hours conversing and laughing with each other.

Somewhere along the line, Oscar passed out on the couch, and you had made your way to his room like he said to.

You two exchanged numbers when it was finally time for you to leave his car. He promised to stay in contact with you.

A promise he followed through on. It didn't take long til you were following him around to races.

You were mostly watched from the quiet places in the McLaren paddock. Sometimes, it even curled up in Oscar's driver room. He didn't mind, though, making it a small game you played between the two of you.

You and Lando got along nicely as well. Oscar only getting frustrated when it comes to both of you and your eating habits.

You were manageable, but Lando was just ridiculous in his eyes.

You didn't actively say your autistic but definitely explained why you are the way you are. Eventually, people came to their own conclusions. The gossip pages included.

You didn't really understand the criticism at first. People had always misjudged and misunderstood. But when they started nitpicking your every move, it became annoying.

The names didn't bother you. It was them saying Oscar deserved someone who wasn't as weird.

It followed you everywhere. These labels that the media had given you.

You were happy with Oscar. He treated you so well, and you were doing your best to support him. You two created your own small routines that you enjoyed.

You couldn't even walk through the paddock without journalists trying to question you. The physical souch of their bodies and shouting so they could be heard sending your body into overdrive. You liked the environment of racing, but this was over your limit.

You were so glad you texted Oscar you had arrived. Him responding that he was already on his way to you.

He noticed the journalists first, then you at the center of attention. Your hands in your hair and your breathing rapid. You looked like you might scream.

His legs moved faster than his mind as he put himself in between you and anyone else. Very gently, placing a hand on your shoulder to try and guide you away.

You did end up screaming. Your body needing to release all the pent-up emotions you'd been wanting to release earlier. Thankfully, it was somewhere private and muffled by Oscar's jacket.

You didn't want the so close like that. They were too much. They questions they asked were incredibly invasive. Some even going as far as to ask about intimate things.

You managed to explain to Oscar what happened. His listening intently, watching you play with his fingers in the pattern your head had come up with.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make things hard for you."

Oscar smiled and simply shook his head. "You aren't making things difficult, and on the contrary, you and your nerodivergent brain have never looked so cute."

"I just got done screaming and trying to self-soothe."

"It doesn't matter. You still look absolutely adorable." He kissed the top of your head, hoping to convey what he was feeling without words.

Am hour later, Oscar had posted to his socials about you. A letter to anyone who wants to form an opinion.

"Leave my girlfriend be. Neither of us likes having our personal lives invaded. You like to assume things but don't have all the facts. I love her very much, and that should be all that matters."

As you read it and looked at Oscar, who was giving you a goofy smile for being proud of what he'd just done. You realized just how much he loved you. Despite your labels, he saw past them and loved you for you.

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theragethatisdesire · 10 months

Text

much ado about nothing masterlist - plug!eren x reader series - 18+!!

Between being an English professor and a graduate student, your time is valuable and often stretched thin, and does not include room for many "extracurricular activities". When you come home one day to find your roommate picking up from the local dealer, however, your dedication to your hectic schedule wavers. ⚘ i'm SO excited to finally share this series. i've been fangirling over this eren by myself for way too long and i'm super excited to bring you guys into the loop.

please find the best fan art of all time made by my bestie @fictional-d-supremacy for this series linked HERE

ALSO my lovely moot @animakemecry made a playlist, what the fuck?? so cute!! please find that linked here for listening <3

DISCLAIMER: this series contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor or ageless blog, please do not interact.

content warnings for smut, alcohol and drug use (duh he's literally a drug dealer), some slight toxicity, and historia being your adorable bestie throughout the series

here's the ao3 link for anyone who would prefer to read on there!

Chapter 1 - courtesy of historia, you land your sights on the cute drug dealer that services much of campus. your common sense wins out...until you have a few drinks at girls' night, that is.

Chapter 2 - eren invites you and historia to a kickback with his friends. hilarity and mind-numbing sexual tension ensure.

Chapter 3 - eren's gotten under your skin, but you've decided that a one night stand should solve your little obsession, and eren's not one to deny you.

Chapter 4 - historia and sasha finally get to find out if all the rumors about eren are true. you learn a little more about eren's past thanks to sasha's sex drive. eren is the king of bad timing.

Chapter 5 - eren, still reeling from a mysterious text he received, meets you at paradise, the local club. he debates the meaning of the word 'friends' and you drink too many vodka sodas.

Chapter 6 - you deal with the fall-out of your night at paradise. sasha goes back on her word. floch...floch just sucks.

Chapter 7 - you and eren have your first official fight. restraint proves futile, and you leave yourselves with a lot to think about once the morning comes.

Chapter 8 - eren and you have finally committed to a no-strings-attached arrangement, but the holiday season makes everyone sentimental, and the two of you aren't immune.

#aot x reader #eren jaeger x reader #plug!eren #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren x reader #aot smut #aot fic

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rboooks · 9 months

Note

In The Royal Consort:

I just imagined a scene where Danny accidentally cried or bleed and that makes the favorite assigned bodyguard appear all spooky and knightly

Fright Knight

The second one drop of blood or tear hits the floor the sun suddenly is covered by clouds and this chilling sensation travels to everyone's spine (Clockwork laughs)

Danny hides his face between his hands cause: omg this is so humiliating, why does the knight have to be so protective!? He isn't a kid! In fact, Danny is stronger than him!

But everyone around just assumes they started a war by hurting the very loved spouse of a very powerful king

Fright Knight walks through a portal and points his sword to the persons that hurt his Lord and spoke all scary and well, frightening

Meanwhile we have a combination of Danny and Batboys trying to calm down the situation (Danny casually hits the ghost all: dude! Relax! Everyone has a mini heart attack)

John Constantine is having a panic attack when he sees the news (you just know someone was making an live all the time) cause this powerful entity surely has to be the assigned protector of Prince Danny and if he appears it was to avoid that the king himself drains his husband when he's already hurt but that only means he was probably furious waiting for an explanation!!!

Danny just wanted a coffee that Tim told him (he just wanted like, enough caffeine that would kill him)

---------

On the other hand, you just know Twitter is going crazy

People are having passionate debates about the situation, maybe for Danny's age, Is necrophilia?, Fanfiction and fanart, Ghosts aren't real and everything is just a government plan, who's Danny and why he was selected and a Buzzfeed Unsolved/The Watchers video (Ryan spends half the video laughing cause he was right! Shane is 😐🙂 well I didn't expect that but at the same those places they went weren't haunted)

Director movies are watching the news, wondering if they can make a movie about them (normally they'd said that they have to wait to them be dead, that is the norm with royals but like... Dead or not is the same here, isn't it? Can they or not make movies and series about them?

Danny is suddenly the subject of everyone's curiosity. His life, photos, his friends and classmates are on the news and internet all the time

People are just asking why him? What makes Danny Fenton, a normal teenager, so special to have one of the more powerful and mighty entities in the universe so found on him? So in love?

Government/criminal societies/companies are making plans of seduction the king and becoming his consort too maybe stealing Danny's place so they can have access to Phantom wealth and power

This situation is just to say: a ghost appears to attack him while he's in public with a lot of attention from paparazzi and passengers (a friendly attack causes he's far away from his lair and they're checking? A rebel trying to take the throne?) One of the Batfamily tried to stop him but didn't have the weapons to stop them

Danny has to defeat him in his human.

But Danny doesn't even look scared, he just attacks him like a professional, like if defeating this powerful entity was nothing to him and after a few minutes he has the ghost in the thermo and Danny looking normal

I, for one, I'm sure that people would find that very hot of him and the internet reaction would be like: for that reason 😯

Danny went from being an invisible loser to "Oh shit, he's kind of hot" overnight due to the internet hyping him up. There are thirst edits all over the internet and people are eating it up, especially when Wes' blog leaks out footage videos of him doing crazy flips and ghost fighting as a human.

Meanwhile, Fright Knight is screaming, "I will protect my liege's chastity!" which is really not helping Danny.

#omg #dc x dp crossover #I love this #Royal consort au

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liyawritesss · 9 months

Text

ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.7k

Synopsis: Sometimes Miles just wants to sway with you in the middle of his bedroom while R&B music plays in the background.

Warnings: Cursing, 15+ Miles here, keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!

A/N: My first (and possibly only) attempt at 42!Miles Morales. Idk, thought it would be something cute…might make a 1610!Miles Morales counterpart lol.

Song Suggestions: “Close” by Ella Mai, “Lotus Flower Bomb” by Wale ft. Miguel, “Love Don’t Change” by Jeremih

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed

“Do you think this fits okay?”

His lights are set to the lavender color setting on his LED lights that line the top ceiling corners of his room, though the lamp on his desk also provides warm white light to contrast against it. Miles looks up from his phone conversation with his uncle to glance at your figure standing in front of the mirror attached to the back of his door as your gaze analyzes the new pair of leggings adorning your legs.

“They look perfect, bella.” Miles responds, the amused lilt in his voice nearly blowing over your head when you hear him speak. Though, to Miles, anything you wear is perfect in his eyes. Your lips jut out in a pout as you continue to examine your bottom half dressed in the black leggings, debating on if you’d gotten the right size to accentuate your curves the way you want them to.

The leggings were just one of many items that laid in various shopping bags that littered Miles’ floor, currently. From LuLuLemon to Victoria’s Secret to Fashion Nova, Miles can certainly say that he’s made up for his impromptu disappearance before your date night the night prior.

He didn’t mean for last night to happen, truly. He knew you really wanted to see that movie. It was the last night it was playing in theaters, too, and you were so excited when you managed to find tickets to the last showing, and proposed the date idea to him. Miles admits that he was interested in the proposition, not just because you had proposed it, but because the mere mention of it got you so worked up that he truly believed it to be worth it.

So, to make up for not only bailing on the date, but also going ghost for much the prior night as well, he picked you up for an impromptu day at the mall. It wasn’t an easy feat, Miles admits, convincing you to allow him to make it up to you in this way. He felt guilty for inadvertently crushing your hopes, and you’d felt even more guilty about taking the new date offer that required him to spend his money.

“I’m tryna make it up to you.” He’d said

“Miles, I said it was fine-” you’d said.

“-but it’s not, though.” He’d interjected.

“You had…stuff to do,” you’d whispered to him, “I can’t expect you to drop everything at my beck and call, and I know what I signed up for when we started dating.”

If someone told Miles that four months ago he’d start dating the pretty girl who always slept through their shared mathematics class, he’d surely look at you as if you’d just grown a second head. He still doesn’t know what attracted him to you in the first place - how pretty you looked asleep at your desk, or the fact that even though you’d be knocked out the second you took your seat, if the teacher happened to call on you for a question, you managed to answer it correctly every time.

You’d quickly became his first and, as it stands, only friend at Visions Academy. Soon enough, you’d also became aware of his double persona, though if Miles had it his way, he would have kept you in the dark for as long as possible. It wasn’t easy, juggling the duality of the life he lived. The less people close to him, the easier the job was. Well, unless the person was you.

You were like a piece of gum stuck under a desk - an ever looming presence, never disappearing; but like the candy before being discarded, you were also sweet, refreshing, comforting. Miles wanted to make this work for the both of you. He’d grown too fond of you to let you slip out of his life like sand from the beach.

“So that mean you just accept whatever you get?” Miles asks, eyebrows raised again. “Nah, we don’t do that around here.”

Unfortunately, there was no fighting against Miles when he had his mind made up.

So you entertained his proposition, though not without a fight. You made sure that the boy bought some things for himself as well, and even managed to sneak in a few items for his mother (which, in all honesty, he didn’t need much convincing for - it was his mother, after all). So, granted, not all of the bags on the floor were yours, so it made you feel a bit better about Miles splurging on you as an apology.

He watches as you shift through a tiny black and pink bag with the V.S. initials printed in cursive on the side, fishing out a bottle of soft purple body mist that Miles would recognize anywhere. He’d recognize it because it was his favorite scent that you frequently bought from the clothing chain. He could never tire of the lavender and jasmine that calmed his mind and relaxed his body whenever you were around, or put him to sleep whenever the two of you cuddled together.

The familiar spritz spritz sound echoes throughout his room, fading into the old school R&B that currently plays in the living room area where his mom is having company over. The mist settles into the cloth of your sweatshirt - his sweatshirt, actually - and into your skin, before he watches your feet carry you closer to him.

“Don’t tell me you sprayed that just to come and hug me?” He says, though his body straightens at the edge of the bed, phone becoming a distant memory as he tucks it into his hoodie pocket.

You shrug, a playful smile spreads to your lips as you step between his legs, hands coming to cup his cheeks, “shut up, you know you like it.”

He didn’t have to admit that he loved it - a lazy hand coming to rest at the back of your knee was enough proof of it.

“Why you tryna be like me,” the brown skin boy hums, sucking his teeth and deflecting the conversation from the truthful statement, “always stealin’ my clothes ‘nd shit.”

“Same reason why half of my scrunchie jar is gone,” you tease back, “I gave you one, Miles, and now I’m missing, like, ten of ‘em.”

“I’on know what you talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Of course you don’t.”

At some point, the same hand that rested behind your knee crept up to your waist as his head pressed into your stomach, the smell of your perfume drawing him closer. It lulled him into a state of security; however, it was swiftly ruined when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He’s sure that it’s Aaron.

He takes the phone out and it opens up to his text messages almost immediately when his face comes into view. The ominous intent behind the words ‘hold on’ in blue bubbles makes his stomach tighten.

You feel it, too. The shift in his demeanor can be felt when you stand this close to him. “Was it Aaron?”

His phone becomes discarded on the bed while his other arm raises up, and both wrap around your frame while he buries his head into your stomach inhaling the perfume etched into the fabric there. “Yeah.”

One hand goes to rub soothing circles on his clothed back, the other caresses the nape of his neck, holding him close, for the reality of it all was that he could have to leave at any moment.

The slightly muffled music from the living room shifts to another song and it sparks a lightbulb in your head.

Your hands go to gently pry Miles’ hands from your body. He raises his head in question, before being tugged to his feet by you as well. You reposition his arms around your waist, and yours find their place around his neck, and after a few seconds, it clicks for him.

“You’re so corny.” He voices, muffled by the position his face takes in the crevice of your neck, nose tickled by the goddess braids that rested against your shoulders.

“Shut up,” you lightly scold, “just sway with me, idiot.”

The richness of the singer’s voice gives Miles’ body more than enough incentive to lean from side to side in a slow motion, taking you in his arms with him as he does so. You fully expect for him to pull away or grumble at the proposition, yet, you’re not completely surprised when he simply gives in to your direction. Perhaps he desires the same closeness you do in this moment, you think.

Miles feels himself smiling when the touch of your hand graces his cheek, thumb swiping comforting strokes along his skin. He hums at the touch, his grip tightening in the slightest around your waist. Is he too young to wish for this all the time?

His phone buzzes in his pocket again, his brown hand fishes for the device and glances down at the text message once more. The pit in his stomach fades away when he reads the words ‘no need. good 4 2nite’ from his uncle in blue. Miles lets out a short breath, pockets his phone, and sinks back into your touch.

He’s thankful that there seems to be no need for the Prowler on the streets tonight. Perhaps he can rest in peace.

Miles’ taken from his thoughts when he feels your lips graze across his cheek. “Everything good?”

He feels a smile spread across his lips. “Yeah, we good,” he hums, returning the affection.

Neither of you even notice that another person has entered the room, until the sound of someone clearing their throat echoes throughout the walls. Miles looks up from your shoulder to see his mother standing in the doorway, a content yet melancholic look on her face.

“If you kids want something to eat, there’s leftovers from me and the girls, bien?”

The hand that was once on his cheek now hides your face from his mother’s prying, knowing eyes, and it emits a chuckle from the older woman.

“Bueno, mami, we’ll get some later.” Miles replies before Rio leaves, making sure to leave the door ajar just the slightest.

Though, neither of you are ready to part, even at the prospect of food. So Miles returns to the warmth of your neck, your hand returning to caress the side of his face as he molds himself back into you, and the two of you continue to sway to the music, content in your own little world.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

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halsteadlover · 9 months

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A New Milestone

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: your daughter just started kindergarten and both you and, especially, Jay didn’t imagine how difficult seeing her grow up would be.

• Warnings: none, just fluff and ugly ass writing as usual.

• Word count: 2631.

• A/N: I was just craving some Dad!Jay fics so here it is one. I’m sorry if there are any mistakes. I hope you’ll like this fic, please let me know what you think and comment, like and reblog if you want. As always, thank you so much for everyone who supported and who’s supporting me ❤️ I love you all.

The big day had arrived.

Needless to say, neither you nor Jay were ready and, nothing, no instructions, no manuals, no googled blogs, would’ve prepared you on how tough this moment was going to be.

Your little girl was starting kindergarten and you couldn't be more desperate than you already were.

You tried not to get carried away by emotions, not wanting to be one of those oppressive mothers or always with teary eyes in front of your daughter – you’d do that later – but Jay didn't seem to be doing a very good job.

The situation was tragicomic, because on one side there was your little Sofia who was running left and right, excited and overjoyed to start kindergarten, and on the other there was Jay, who was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and having a crying spell.

“What does my beautiful girl want to eat for a snack?” you asked as she was giggling with her dad. Jay wouldn't let her go, he held her as long as possible like he was going to never see her again. They were standing next to you and he didn't even seem to notice you were there as he showered her with kisses on her plump cheeks and cradled her in his arms.

“Lots of chocolate chip cookies!” she exclaimed, her green eyes shining as she toyed with her favorite puppet, a little Frozen doll obviously brought by her father.

“Nah-ah miss, you tried it, you already ate a lot of them,” you replied approaching her and leaving a kiss on her cheek before starting to prepare her snack bag.

“If my little girl wants chocolate chip cookies, she's going to have chocolate chip cookies,” Jay interjected, and you rolled your eyes, knowing you weren't going to win this debate. Sofia let out a little scream of excitement, throwing her little arms around her father's neck who hugged her even more and caressing her back. “My precious big girl.”

“Incredible,” you mumbled, trying to hide the smile that threatened to grow on your lips.

With everything prepped, it was time to drop her off at kindergarten, and needless to say neither you or Jay were ready.

You noticed how quiet he was, not speaking unless absolutely necessary. During the car ride, little Sofia kept saying how happy she was to start, to make new friends and to be with her friend Lucy. She was so exuberant you sometimes wondered where she got this side of her character from.

Jay said almost nothing, just glanced from time to time at his daughter in the rearview mirror, while his heart tightened with sadness at the thought he’d soon have to leave her.

“We're here honey,” was one of the few things he said after pulling into the kindergarten parking lot.

“Okay baby are you sure you don't want to go home with mom and dad?” Jay asked as he knelt down next to Sofia.

“Jay!”.

“Hey I'm just saying... There's still time if you want to think about it princess okay?”.

“No papa I want to go! I see you later, don't be sad,” Sofia tried to confront him and you internally bite your cheeks to prevent you from crying in front of her. She was only four but she was so emotionally intelligent.

“I'm not sad princess, I'm just very proud of you. You're a big girl now,” Jay replied, trying to keep himself calm as well. He stroked the girl's hair, then leaving a kiss on her forehead “Dad loves you very very much you know that right?”.

She nodded vigorously. “I love you too much dada and I love mommy too. But can we go?”.

“Give me a hug first.”

She hugged her father, who held her as if she was going to war and not coming home for a long time. He tried to savor every second of that hug, aware his baby girl was getting older, that the more time went by, the fewer hugs he’d receive, and this broke his heart.

When it was your turn to say goodbye to Sofia you couldn't hold back your tears, squeezing and stroking your little girl's hair as you hugged her. “I love you so much baby always remember that, and if you need anything mom and dad are always here.”

“I know mama, I love you so much too!”.

Seeing her run inside her kindergarten was a scene that generated a series of conflicting emotions.

On one hand you were so happy, knowing she was growing up, that she was starting to taste some independence, that she was going to make friends and start exploring the world. On the other hand… Damn it, it was so hard because all you wanted was to have her always with you, forever.

You glanced at Jay who was staring at the kindergarten, a melancholy and sad expression on his face.

“Are you okay baby?” you asked him as you intertwined your fingers with his. He brought his eyes to you and looked at you for a moment before nodding. “We can go.”

You walked back hand in hand to the car but he didn't utter a word and, after so many years you've been together, you knew when he was so quiet it was because he tried to suppress his emotions.

When he got into the car, he took a deep breath trying to swallow the lump in his throat before starting the car but the moment he glanced at the back seats and saw Sofia's empty seat, he couldn't control himself anymore and tears began to running down his cheeks.

He felt so ridiculous, he cried when his daughter was only few feet away and she was totally fine.

But he couldn't control it, she was his little girl, his precious princess and he was still so in disbelief she had reached this new milestone. He remembered as if it were yesterday when he picked her up for the first time as a newborn, how afraid he was of accidentally hurting her and now she was grown up, she had even started kindergarten.

He felt an immeasurable love for his daughter, a love that cannot be described in words. He would’ve given her the world if she wanted, the moon and the stars if she asked and knowing he wasn't there with her in that moment, that if she fell he wouldn't be there to dry her tears, that he wasn’t going to feed her, to help her with her hair, to play with her… Man, he felt an abyss in his chest.

You placed a hand on his arm and caressed him before hugging him to try to comfort him. Seeing him cry like that, for his little girl, did nothing but make you even more sure than you already were that you couldn't have made a better choice, you couldn't have chosen a better father for your children.

“It's okay baby, cry all you want,” you whispered, your voice broken by the tears that you too had been shedding continuously for at least half an hour.

“I don't want… Man… I don't want her to grow up so fast,” he mumbled. He pulled away from the hug, and as soon as you looked at each other you chuckled through tears, noting the condition you both were in.

“Oh God…” he sighed, handing you a handkerchief and taking one for himself with which he dried his tears.

“How is it possible she’s already in kindergarten Jay?” you shook your head in disbelief.

“Tell me about it… Our baby is getting so big.”

You nodded, sniffling as you tried to pull yourself together and regain control of yourself. “How about we go home and watch videos of her as a new born and keep crying?”.

Jay burst out laughing, giving you a kiss on the lips. “Sounds like a great idea to me love.”

And that was exactly what you did for the next few hours, with ice cream and tears in full super drama style.

When it came time to pick up Sofia, Jay looked like a kid about to go buy his favorite toy, he couldn't wait for his baby to finish and to be able to hug her again.

It was the first time he had been separated from her for so long and God only knew how much he hated it.

You couldn't stop looking at him and smiling, watching how happy he was as he packed her snacks with all of her favorite treats. No wonder why he was the favorite parent and you the bad one.

“Don't you dare take anything away,” he warned you and you threw up your hands in surrender. “My little girl deserves to be pampered after today. Do you think she’ll be tired? Did she eat? I swear to God if they didn't feed her...”

“Babe, stop,” you grabbed his face as you chuckled “She's fine, she's even forgotten about us.”

The expression of pure horror and dismay with which he looked at you as you said these words made you burst into laughter. “My little girl didn’t forget about me, I’m her father, don’t you dare ever again say such things.”

“Oh Jay, c'mon! Of course she’s fine and she’s happy, I’m sure she’s enjoying herself and all the teachers are taking care of her.”

“I hope so or I'm going to burn that place down with my own hands,” he retorted and something told you he wasn't kidding at all.

But you weren't wrong.

When Jay picked Sofia up and saw her come out with her biggest smile as she ran towards him, he calmed down, setting aside the momentary idea of blowing up the building.

“Dada!” she yelled almost literally jumping into her father’s arms, who grabbed her and spun her in the air.

“My princess!” he exclaimed, delighted to finally be able to hug his daughter again. He showered her with kisses, tickling her as she giggled and laughed. “How are you? How was you day?”.

“Where is mommy?” she asked, looking around.

“She is waiting for us at home, she had things to do but she can't wait to see you, you know?” he hugged her tightly to him with lots of affection and love “Oh baby I missed you so much”.

“I missed you too much dada! You know we played with paint on our hands! Can we do it too with mama?” she looked at him with puppy eyes that weren't even needed that moment, Jay would’ve dug with his own hands and panned for gold if she'd asked.

“We'll do whatever you want baby, ask and I’ll give it to you,” he replied smiling and stroking her cheeks after caressing her hair “So, did you have fun? Have you made any friends?” he asked as they walked towards the parking lot, Sofia still in his arms as she talked about everything she did.

“Do you want to see a surprise?” he asked once they got close to the car and after setting her gently on the ground.

She nodded and let out a little squeal of delight as she jumped and clapped her little hands.

“Close your eyes then. And don't cheat, otherwise no surprise.”

She covered her eyes with her small hands. “No I don't cheat dada.”

Jay made sure she wasn't peeking and opened the passenger side door, taking the small bouquet of flowers from the seat before tucking it behind his back and kneeling in front of his daughter. He brought the flowers before arriving in kindergarten, wanting to somehow give his daughter a small prize and show her how proud he was of her.

“Okay you can open your eyes baby.”

He showed the bouquet to Sofia as she took her hands away from her eyes and the little cry of joy she let out and the look of pure happiness on her face made his heart melt. In that very moment he wished he had bought the whole flower shop, just so he could forever look at the joy the little girl was feeling.

“They are my favorites! Are they all for me?”.

“Obviously they’re all for you honey. Dada is so proud of you, you're becoming a young lady now.”

“Thank you daddy! I love you so much!” she hugged him, squeezing him as tight as she could with her little arms. She smelled the flowers, lilac tulips, her favorite color and flower. “I like them a lot dada”.

“I'm happy you liked them baby, I love you too so much,” he smiled as she tried to hold the flowers in her arms without dropping it. “What you say if we go back to mom now?”.

She nodded happily and after they got into the car and settled her into her seat, Jay started the car and drove home. He listened to all the stories and events happened today that Sofia told him, with attention and joy, realizing how much he loved hearing her talk. She was definitely talkative and Jay loved it so much, mostly because it was something little Halstead definitely got from you.

He took the opportunity to stop at a toy store to buy the paint and brushes his little girl wanted. And of course how could he say no when his daughter asked him to buy some toys and a dollhouse with that sweet little voice and puppy dog eyes?

He blamed you for this. She got from her mother this ability to make him give up so quickly and the way of using her puppy dog eyes to make him do whatever she wanted.

He blamed you because he didn't want to admit she had him wrapped around her little finger and she knew it, that little devil, she knew how to play on her father's feelings because he loved her more than himself.

So when they got home and Jay was carrying a huge bag of dolls and toys with a dollhouse in his arms, you weren't even surprised. Honestly, you wouldn't have expected otherwise.

As Sofia played with her new toys, you didn't waste time admonishing Jay about how much he was spoiling her. “It's not good spoiling her too much baby…”

“Luckily, you're here to play the dictator and restore order in this house,” he replied with an amused smile. “Asshole,” you tossed him the shirt you were folding, but not being able to hold back your laughter. He was too handsome and adorable to even pretend to be angry with him. “What are you hiding behind your back?” you asked as you noticed he had one arm hidden while with the other took the shirt you had just thrown at him and laid it on the bed.

He held out his other hand, revealing a beautiful bouquet of flowers, more precisely your favorite flowers, leaving you speechless.

“Jay...” you whispered in amazement as you took the bouquet from his hand and smell it. “Why the flowers? Did I forget some special event?”.

“Because you deserve it baby and honestly it's the least I can do,” he replied. He looked at you and the way your eyes sparkled and the way you were smiling made his heart melt, a flock of butterflies gripping his stomach just like the first day. “Because you gave me the best gift I could ever ask for, you gave me our little girl and our family and I’ll be eternally grateful to you. Because I’m in love with you in a way I’ve never thought I’d be with someone and because you make me the happiest I’ve ever been every single day. I’d honestly be nothing with you. So thank you baby, for everything.”

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wardenparker · 2 months

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 4

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: 10.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story* Family dynamics that contain debating as a method of communication, heavy familial expectations, changing relationships, talk of pregnancy and childbirth. Summary: A family dinner at the White House, a meddling best friend, and the mysterious case of the missing Congressman. Notes: Shout out to Keri for making me unexpectedly bawl about three-quarters of the way into this chapter. Thanks for that, babe. As usual, sorry for an errors I might have missed and thanks for reading!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

It isn’t unusual for a family to sit down to dinner together during the week. If you’re a busy family, living scattered about in different places, even a once-a-week dinner is worth scheduling. But when you’re the First Family, it gets a little complicated. The food is always amazing. That isn’t up for debate. And it is nice to actually see your mother when she isn’t surrounded by a swarm of staff or on a television screen. Alex and June are great too, when they aren’t being absolute pains in the asses. The only thing you’re hoping is that no one asks you about Sam at dinner tonight.

Family dinners always occur in the residence, around the long wooden table that is a substitute for the one you had grown up sitting around. No press, no phones at the table and the only interruptions that are allowed during this time is a matter of national crisis. Everything else can wait. It's why your mother is a successful politician while balancing her family, she gives everything its proper time. "So a little birdy told me that your inn is booked solid for the next few weeks." She looks over at you with a proud smile, aware that you work incredibly hard to make your vision, your dream, a success.

“Through April.” You nod, finishing a bite of food. The White House chef takes his chicken Marsala very seriously and it’s so good that you can’t get enough of it. “It never fails. People are always excited to see the cherry blossoms.”

“Will you still be able to attend the State dinner?” Although it was more a mandatory invitation, she would understand if you couldn’t break away. After all, she has a very demanding job as well.

“Of course.” Not aware that you had had any choice in the matter, you get smirked half-glances from your siblings that tell you they would try to get out too, if they could. “Although…I do have a question about that.”

She looks up from cutting her chicken, your father looking up from his glass of wine curiously. “What is that?”

“I know that it’s only a week away, so I am not asking for anything besides clarification.” Something about your parents’ reaction makes you feel like you need to say that out loud. Otherwise you might be up for one of your family’s famously endless debates. “Has the seating arrangement already been done so that all of us,” you motion to yourself and your two younger siblings. “Have a plus one?”

“Of course.” Your father has been the one handling the details of the State dinner and has meticulously planned the family seating arrangement. “Why?”

“Just double-checking. It’s the first State dinner, after all. I just want to make sure it goes smoothly.” It doesn’t matter that you were desperately hoping he would say no, or instantly offer to rearrange the seating chart if needed, or literally anything else that would get you out of having to have an uncomfortable conversation with Sam after barely talking to him at all the last few days. Maybe you could ask Juan to…Nope. There’s a rehearsal dinner at the inn that night. Shit.

“Good.” He smiles and gives you a knowing look. “I did not place Sam and you near too many political adversaries.” He snorts. “He won’t spend the entire night in a debate.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, Dad. Thanks.” There is a solid chance Sam would prefer that over the stony silence between the two of you, but you can’t say that. Not with your mother at the table. It will turn into a full-blown debate over what has gone wrong in your relationship and how to fix it, and you don’t need your meddling siblings to have that kind of ammunition on you. “So,” you turn to them instead. “Alex? Junie? You guys have dates?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I’m bringing Dave, since he wants to go into law school.” He huffs. “He wants to intern with one of the senators.” Junie just shrugs. “Not yet.” She murmurs, bored by the idea of the dinner at all.

“Dave gets to come to a State dinner?” Your brother and his boyfriend generally keep things under wraps, and it works well since they’ve been best friends since they were kids. Like the gay male version of you and Sydney except they became a couple. “That’s sweet, Al. Maybe he’ll actually get you to behave yourself.”

“Never.” He flashes you a grin, making your mother huff in exasperation and amusement.

“No potential guest on the horizon for you, Junebug?” Your father asks, looking to his youngest child on the other end of the table.

“I’m either going to have someone want to go so they can rub elbows with politicians and brag they went to the State dinner, or be completely bored out of their minds.” She shrugs. “So I don’t know if I want to ask anyone.”

“Is that even an option?” You’re really trying not to make it sounds like you’re hoping for a yes, but you are. To be told you can go solo would solve every single one of your problems at the moment.

“We cannot have empty chairs.” Your father shakes his head. “Junie, if you don’t pick someone, we will have to find a filler.”

“Do you want me to ask Dave to bring his brother?” Alex offers, always only helpful to the baby of the family. “Noah can dance, doesn’t care about politics, and you can bitch about college the whole time of you want.”

“Please?” Her eyes turn hopeful and she knows that will be better than some filler guest.

“You got it.” Alex grins and flashes that thousand watt smile at your parents. “See? Problem solved.”

“Thank you.” Your father looks relieved and your mother gives him a smile before cutting into her chicken again. “Happy to have that settled.” She hums.

Settled. Ugh. If you weren’t about to turn thirty, you would be pouting at the table. Instead you let discussion float by, as your father double checks that all three of you have your White House approved outfits for the night and you’ve managed to memorize all the facts and statistics on the Spanish royal family that were handed out by your mother’s staff.

The dinner moves on to dinner dessert and the dinner plates are changed for wonderful pots of chocolate lava cake, a back up dessert for the State dinner for anyone with a gluten intolerance or nut allergy.

“This is amaaazing.” June groans, ever the chocolate fanatic.

“It is delicious.” Your mother agrees. “Rich.” She looks over at your father. “You said this was gluten free?”

“Hard to believe isn’t it?” He laughed like he’s got some trick up his sleeve but he’s really just pleased. “Apparently this is one of the easier cakes to do with alternative flours.”

“Perfect.” She might be President of the United States, but she and your father were a team. “You did wonderful finding an alternative, honey.”

“You like the orange sauce with it?” Everyone’s anxieties are high for this first occasion and your father wants everything to be perfect.

“Perhaps offer a raspberry or strawberry?” She suggests, looking around the table for everyone’s opinions. “What do you all think? In addition?”

“It’s a little sweet,” you admit, hating to ever disappoint your father. But there is a reason you all have so many round table discussions in your family. “Maybe blood orange would offset the sweetness a little? And be a little more luxurious?”

“Ohhhh blood orange would be amazing.” Alex chimes in, nodding in agreement. “Balance the sweetness of the chocolate.”

“Oh my god yes,” June groans, already having mostly inhaled her lava cake and furtively peaking to see if either you or Alex is going to be willing to give yours up.

Alex snorts when he sees that beseeching look on his younger sister’s face and slides his lava cake towards her.

“This is what you should have for your birthday.” Junie tells you emphatically, digging in to what’s left of your brother’s dessert. “No question.”

“Why? So you can eat all of it?” Your brother snorts. “But-“ he looks back over at you. “What are you having at your party?”

"I honestly haven't thought about it." There's still a month left until your birthday so it hadn't even crossed your mind yet. "Maybe I'll just go to a Nationals game if I can get away from work. Who knows?"

“Oh honey, you shouldn’t do that.” Your mother huffs slightly and shakes her head. “Go to a Nationals game, sure. But you need to have a party.”

"Why?" It sort of feels like whining this time, but you have to wonder what her logic is. "Because I'm one of the First Kids? Because I'm turning 30?"

“Because you deserve a party where others cater to your wants and is about you? Celebrating my oldest baby’s birthday.” She implores, expression soft and loving.

If there is one thing your mother is annoyingly good at it, it's showering love on her children despite being busy. No birthday ever went by without acknowledgement. No success uncelebrated. No set back unconquered. "So does that mean you and Dad are going to throw it and all I have to do is show up?" It's highly unlikely considering how busy they are, but you have to try, right?

“Absolutely.” Her grin is positively smug, like you have fallen into her trap, which - you have. “Of course, we are not going to have it at the White House.” She rolls her eyes slightly. “But you just pretend it will be a surprise. I’ll let Sam know where to bring you.”

"I can't know where to go myself?" Since there's a chance Sam won't even be in the picture in a few weeks, you would rather just have her tell you. "And please don't make it some big, formal thing? If I get told to wear an evening gown to my birthday, I'm not showing up."

“Nothing formal.” She promises. “No ballgown, but a nice dress.” She compromises, tilting her head. “For pictures? Not official ones, of course.”

Regular negotiations with the President should make you eligible for some kind of ambassador position even as her daughter, and you tilt your head at your mother before making a full agreement. "Cocktail attire maximum, the music cannot be described as orchestral anything, and the fancier the venue is, the lower class the food has to be. Those are my conditions."

“Finger foods inside of an upscale tavern?” She poses, smirking slightly at the way you negotiate with her. Out of all the children, you are the closest to her personality, even if you don’t see it. “With specially crafted cocktails to celebrate your birthday? And a playlist composed of your favorites songs from each year?”

"I'll build a core list for the music. Because I don't trust Alex not to sneak Cotton Eye Joe or something into the mix." Like any good wheeling-and-dealing adult child, you have to get just one more compromise in there before sealing the deal. "And I will provide you with a list of friends I'd like invited outside of the normal group. Obviously I know you'll give the information to Sydney, Anna Leigh, and Issy."

“Deal.” She nods and looks very pleased with the situation. “Honey, I will plan this.” She promises, reaching out and patting the back of your father’s hand. “I want to plan it.”

"Along with running the free world, she's also a party planner." Your brother snorts, always ready to tease. "You know you can just hire Juan to do it, Mom."

“No.” She snorts and blows a raspberry at your brother. “It’s my baby’s birthday. I want to plan the perfect party to ring in thirty.”

"And somehow Birdie still doesn't get that she's the favorite." June laughs, throwing you a smirk before she rolls her eyes playfully at Alex.

“Now you know that is not true.” Your mother protests, rolling her eyes. “I love all of you equally.”

"Yes, Mother." Alex and June chime in unison, making all of you break into laughter at the same time around the table.

“Managing you kids is almost harder than running the country.” She grumbles, even though she’s grinning.

"We just wanted you to have a lot of practice before you got to the White House." You assure her, still laughing with your siblings. "Because being Governor of Pennsylvania was definitely not enough. Your children are the real test."

“Yes they are.” She agrees, laughing with all of you and your father. The truth was, she has incredible children that she’s proud of beyond measure. Often she tells the world that her best accomplishment has been raising the three of you and it’s not line to appeal to her core voters, she truly believes that.

"So, I have a logistical question." Satisfied temporarily with the amount of chocolate consumed in one dinner, June sits back in her chair with her glass of iced tea and proves once more than kids take more corralling than countries. "If the State dinner is next Saturday, does that count as family dinner?

Your father rolls his eyes and sighs while your mom narrows her eyes in thought and looks towards her husband for his thoughts. “What do you think, honey?”

"The purpose of Friday night dinners is to have a chance to sit down together as a family and catch up. Enjoy each other's company. Celebrate the week's small wins." It's what they had agreed on years ago when this tradition had been born. "So by that logic, I would say no. Since we won't be sitting around enjoying each other's company while the king and queen of Spain are visiting." He narrows his eyes though, in a way that definitely speaks to how long your parents have been together. They have identical expressions right now. "Why, Junebug? Did you make other plans?"

“I—” she falters for a moment and then shrugs. “There’s a party I wanted to go to, but I don’t have to go if my presence is required.”

Your parents exchange a glance, that decades-long nonverbal communication at work for not the first time today. "Why don't we have dinner a little earlier?" You father offers. Compromise is always the name of the game in the First Family. "If we have dinner at six instead of seven that night, will that give you enough time, kiddo?"

A partial victory counts, so she nods. "That would work. It would give me plenty of time to be annoyed at my security detail."

"Sounds like a plan." Your mother smirks, relieved to see that none of her children have tried to give their agents the slip yet. She had expected it from June, if she's honest. She's definitely the most independent and the most rebellious.

"Wish we didn't have to have them." She pout slightly, even though she had known this was part of the deal. She hadn't expected it to chafe so much though, if she was honest. She have been very innocent in believing they would just a vague shadow.

"I'd rather have you annoyed by their presence and be safe, than let you go without them and have something happen to any of you." It's non-negotiable, you all know that, and your mother is frankly very glad that it comes with the office. Trying to make sure all three of you are safe without the Secret Service? No way.

"I know." She doesn't have to be happy about it though. "I just— wish the world didn't suck so badly sometimes." She murmurs quietly.

"Here here." Alex nods, knowing that all the different ways the world sucks have affected him in ways the rest of the family hasn't experienced on their own. Everyone may tout their belief in soulmates loudly, but he can't even go out and hold his soulmate's hand without risk. If anything, he's grateful for the Secret Service agents that have been assigned to make sure he stays safe.

"I know that you are disappointed that I haven't been able to push through the soulmate resolution yet." Your mother is addressing Alex, but she shoots him a reassuring look. "But I know that it is close." She looks towards you. "Sam has been a strong voice in the fight to approving the resolution." She praises. "You should be very proud of him."

Mom, you’ve only been in office a month. No one at this table expects you to work miracles.” You steadily ignore the remark about Sam, feeling like your blood pressure is rising a little every time he gets mentioned tonight. “The Resolution is a really good piece of legislation and it’s only a matter of time before it gets passed.” Looking to your brother, though, you offer him the proudest smile you can manage. “And then this pain in the ass can have the White House’s first ever gay wedding. One for the history books.”

Alex snorts and shakes his head. “Hell no.” He huffs. “I don’t want a stuffy White House wedding where I have to invite every dignitary I know. I’ll leave that to you.” He hums with a smirk.

“I’m not getting married anytime soon so what does it matter?” An awful lot of people have been very invested in your future lately and it’s grinding on you to the point where you shoot back a reply without even thinking of it.

Your father’s brow shoots up, surprised at the tone you had used and he glances at your mother, a silent look passing between them.

The silence at the table is ringing, and you put down your wine glass as delicately as you can manage. “What?” You ask, looking around the table but not willing to apologize for being cranky. “I’m not engaged, am I? It could be years before I settle down.”

"Nothing." Your mother shakes her head and smiles at you. "Things will happen in their own time." She councils softly. "You don't have to adhere to anyone's timeline but your own."

“Right.” The best you can do is sit back and have the decency to look a little sheepish, but you can feel the question marks in the eyes of your family members all watching you. It is massively uncomfortable at best.

"Okay." Alex senses something is wrong with you, that you want the subject to change so he claps his hands. "So, I have a question." He recaptures his parents attention. "Do we have to dance at the State dinner?" He asks seriously. "Because you know Dave has two left feet and I can't be embarrassed like that."

“You can dance with your sisters,” your father offers, sensing the same thing as his son. “Or with your mother, or the queen? Or any of the young men there, if you want to end up above the fold of the Washington Post.” It’s purely teasing, of course, since anyone who knows Alex knows he is only in the closet publicly.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Nahhhhhh." He waves away the idea. "I don't want to have to hire a PR manager this early in my life." He jokes. "It would drain my savings."

"I guess we'll all behave ourselves." June observes with a wry smile.

"That would be extremely appreciated." Your mother hums, smiling at all of you. "I know you all have busy schedules, but I am so glad we can still get together."

It's Sunday before the dress arrives at the inn for the State dinner, and you and Sydney were enjoying a rare afternoon off together when Malachi lead the worried-looking White House staffer around to the back porch of the inn to let them hand it over to you in person. Sending them off again with your thanks, you push out a sigh. "I haven't heard from Sam in almost a week," you admit when your best friend fixes you with an inquisitive expression.

"Have you reached out to him?" Sydney asks, frowning as she holds the passion fruit tea she has been obsessed with over the last few days. "He might be embarrassed and unsure of how he will be received?"

"I sent him a text yesterday asking if we were still on for our plans tonight, but...nothing so far." Making plans ahead of time had been a definite strength for the two of you before now. But since Valentine's Day? Communication has been non-existent.

"Have you tried his office?" It's not like Sam to just blow you off, so she wonders if he's been caught up in meetings.

"I—" You blow out another breath. One that feels like defeat. "I'm afraid of calling and having Vanessa pick up," you admit. It feels stupid but you can't help it. "The idea that she could be feeling chatty and say something about Marcus just...I know that's stupid."

"Have you tried to text Marcus?" That's the next question is the most obvious one to take the conversation. If you aren't in contact with Marcus or he hasn't responded to you, that could be why you are feeling like a duck out of water.

"No." That idea makes you shake your head sternly and reach for your drink. The covered porch and little space heater is nice for sitting in the sunniest hours of the day, but you still made yourself a cup of hot coffee to sip while you sat with Sydney. "No...I mean...he probably hates me by now."

"I don't think he would hate you." She's already making an note to have Juan reach out to Pike himself. Maybe take him out for a beer and feel him out on the situation. "You cancelled a causal invite to dinner, you didn't cancel taking him to the State dinner."

"I can't even think about the dinner." Your fingers drum on the box beside you, knowing the dress inside is beautiful but not wanting to face the reality of how uncomfortable the night will be. "If I don't have a date I have to tell my father as soon as possible and I'll get stuck with a million questions and a seat filler."

"Then you need to call Sam." She huffs. "Even if he's fuming at you, I doubt he would miss the State dinner."

"I know, I know, I know you're right." But you don't really want to call him. If it's been almost a week and he's effectively ghosted you? That seems like a pretty clear signal to you.

"Babe....you need closure." The bags under your eyes aren't doing you any good, despite the sleepy time tea that she had been sending to you. "If you are ending things with him, you need to be an adult about it."

"Ugh." You groan, letting your head tip back so the sound drags out dramatically. "Stop making sense and giving good advice, it's interfering with my denial and the reconstruction of my emotional walls."

She laughs, although it's not really funny. She knows where you and it's a shitty place to be. Sighing softly, she picks up your phone and holds it out to you.

"I hate you." Even muttered good naturedly, you still snag your phone from her hand and clutch your coffee mug like a security blanket. Sam's office number is programed into your phone and you squeak with combined fear and frustration as the call connects and begins to ring.

"Congressman Chase's office." Vanessa's voice comes over the line cheerfully and professionally. "How may I be of assistance today?"

Don't be a coward, you remind yourself sternly, as soon as you hear her voice. "Hi Vanessa." Saying your name clearly eliminates any assumption that his staff might recognize your voice, even though you know a few people absolutely do. Some of his staffers like to chat to you while you wait for Sam to come to the phone when you call his office. "Is Sam available?"

Her use of your last name is merely one of respect, choosing to keep things professional with the Congressman's girlfriend. Slightly confused because you are calling for him at the office. "Did he not tell you?" She asks, her voice lower than the usual chipper tone.

"Apparently not." There is no way you're going to fess up that Sam hasn't spoken to you in days, or returned even so much as a text message. Now you're concerned something might be going on.

"The Congressman has been sick all week." She only knows how bad it is because he had spend the first few days trying to work through it. "He has pneumonia." She huffs quietly. "He's been barely reachable but I had though the would have at least let you know."

He's sick. You barely manage to swallow a sigh of relief at that news, and only because you know how inappropriate that would sound to his aide. "I hadn't heard the official diagnosis." It's as smooth a lie as you can muster at the moment, and you cling to your warm mug all the harder. He's sick. That's why he hasn't called. "Thank you, Vanessa."

"Of course." She's confused, but she also knows that the medication the doctor had prescribed him was to help him rest since he had been trying to push himself. "Anytime."

The groan of relief comes only after you disconnect the call, and you deflate into yourself in your chair. "He's sick," you tell Sydney with a groan. The heel of one hand digs into your closed eye like you're trying to banish a headache but it's really just that you feel the pressure releasing from your mind. "He has pneumonia. He's been out since the beginning of the week."

"Okaaaaay." Surprising, but honestly, it's not? Considering it's Sam and he's pretty direct about things. It's one of those traits that Sydney admires about him. "That's a very valid reason for not texting or calling." She admits. "That's a good thing, right?"

"I'm not thrilled that he's sick, but I'm very relieved that he didn't just ghost me. He sleeps like a rock around the clock when he's sick, so he's probably just passed out at home." The one other time you had seen him with a cold was several months ago, and it seemed like he had slept for three days straight before springing back up on his feet like nothing had happened.

"He didn't just ghost you." She grins at you, even though you are still conflicted about Sam, the fact that you are relieved by this means there's something there. "Do you want me to whip him up some chicken noodle soup to drop at his doorstep?"

"Do you want to go upstairs?" When the two of you actually get the chance to cook together it's always fun, and this sounds like the perfect opportunity. You didn't have a dinner plan anyway. Chicken noodle soup for two is easy enough. "I did my grocery shopping this morning so I know I have everything. And..." you pat the dress box beside you. "I should hang this up. I don't think velvet wrinkles but I still don't want to take a chance."

"Absolutely." She sends you a smile, happy that you look relieved and like a weight has been lifted off your chest. "We will have Congressman Chase cured with our famous chicken noodle soup in no time."

Juan had taken the afternoon to go for a ride around the Virginia backroads so it's just you girls right now and that sounds pretty perfect. You gather up your things and nab Agent Bailey, heading upstairs to get to work and try to ease your mind a little. "I do still have a problem," you point out, when the elevator hits the top floor.

"What's that?" Sydney frowns, looking at the screen that shows the floor you are on. She really hates elevators, but this helps her mitigate that fear that the damn thing would plunge into the basement like all those action movies she had watched as a kid.

The doors slide open and you let her out first, stepping up behind her to unlock the door and let the three of you inside. "Now I definitely need to find a new date for the State dinner."

"Oh shit." Sam can't attend the State dinner with pneumonia, it would be too great of a risk. "Well, I can have Juan escort you." She had plans to have dinner with her parents and reveal the name they had chosen, but this was important and she could reschedule.

"Honey, no." She's been excited about the dinner with her parents for a week already and it wouldn't be fair to take Juan away from that. "You guys have family plans and I'm not going to ruin that. I'll just...think of someone else."

"Malachi?" She offers. "He would look good in a tuxedo."

For a split second you get excited about the idea, but you sink again as you readjust the dress box on your hip. "I need him here that night." You tell her, groaning about it. "We have that six-person reservation that needs a translator. Malachi is the only one on staff who speaks Hindi fluently."

"Fuck." The fact is there aren't a lot of men that can just be called up last minute to look good in a suit and be cleared to be in a roomful of the world's top dignitaries. Unless... "I have an idea and you're going to hate it." She promises as you open the door to your apartment. "Give me your phone."

"I trust you with my life but I do not like that tone in your voice." Still, you hand over your phone with confusion on your face and start to unpack the burgundy velvet evening gown that was altered to fit you perfectly. "Please don't call any of my exes."

"I am not calling any of your exes." She promises you, opening the phone with a code and opening your phone book. It's easy to find the number that she is looking for, because you are a stickler for putting numbers in properly and hits call, changing the phone to speaker so you can hear it ring.

The call rings three times before it connects, and even if Sydney hadn't been angling the phone away from you so that you couldn't see the name, you're pulling the dress out of the box when you hear the unmistakable "Hello?" on the other end.

Suddenly you're standing straight up and glaring at your best friend – your former best friend – for this ultimate betrayal. "Marcus." Your voice cracks when you say his name and you just want the floor to open and swallow you up. "Hi. How— how are you?"

"Oh, hi." It's obvious that he's confused as to why you are calling him on a Sunday, but he doesn't hang up the phone. "I'm good, how are you?" He asks politely, actually sounding like he is interested in the answer.

"I..." You sink down on your bed, letting Sydney continue to hold your phone, and hug the dress to your chest. "I'm calling for a couple of reasons," you decide. Now that you've been confronted with this phone call, it all sort of comes tumbling out. "I wanted to apologize, first. For being vague on rescheduling our Indian dinner last weekend, and then taking off like the Wicked Witch was after me when I saw you the other morning. I've...it's been a weird week. And that was rude of me. So I apologize."

“I understand.” Marcus gives a rueful chuckle. “I’ve had a bit of a weird one myself. My phone has been broken three different times in the past week alone.” He snorts. “And half my contacts and messages have been unrecoverable according to the techs at the store.” He sighs. “So if you send me a message or something and I didn’t answer, I promise I wasn’t ignoring you.”

The I told you so look on Syd's face causes you to throw a pillow at her and you shake your head as though he was in the room with you instead of over the phone. "I texted you once about rescheduling dinner,' you admit. "But...I have a slightly different suggestion, if...if you want to hear it? And I would consider it an enormous favor."

It’s on the tip of his tongue to decline, but he is curious to hear what this favor is. “Hit me.” He tells you with a slight chuckle. “But not too hard. I have to work tomorrow.”

"I promise I'm not capable of punching through a cell phone." It's easy to talk to him. So easy. And it lulls you into a momentary false sense of security as you sit back on your bed. "But...I have a plus one to a State dinner for the Spanish royal family on Saturday night and I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party at the White House?" It's such an insane thing to ask a person that you almost feel like it's an out of body experience, but there it is. It's out in the open. There's no taking it back now.

“I-“ Of all the questions he tries to anticipate, that was not it. He frowns slightly, wondering about the congressman, until he remember that Vanessa had said he was sick with pneumonia. It’s likely him being sick has put you into a frenzy to find someone to go. Not the reason he would like to have dinner with you, but he wants to view you as a friend and this will be a friendly, public event. “Sounds like I need to get my tuxedo to the cleaners.”

"Oh my god, you're a lifesaver." The air whooshes out of you all at once and you fall back onto your bed with a gigantic sigh. "I will come and pick you up myself, the food is going to be amazing, and you can rag on me with my pain-in-the-ass siblings all night. I can't say how grateful I am, Marcus. Really. Thank you so much."

“It’s a honor that you even considered me to escort you” Marcus tells you truthfully. “I’ll be exited to go and I promise to keep the ragging to a minimum.”

"You've earned the right, I promise." You blow out another breath and manage to sit up but solidly ignore the smug look on your best friend's face. "I'll text you the details, if that's okay? Is your phone situation all worked out?"

He laughs quietly. “Hopefully so. All I know is that it is never a good idea to set your phone on the roof of the car when the rookie is driving.” Marcus snorts. “If I don’t get a message by tomorrow, I’ll call you. Sound good?”

"Sounds perfect." Quiet for a second, you take your phone out of Sydney's hand and smile, the smallest twitch of the thing in the corners of your mouth. "Thank you, Marcus. I owe you, but I promise we'll have fun."

“Don’t even worry about it.” He promises. “Well, I hope you have a great rest of your weekend, okay?” He asks. “And tell Sam to feel better.”

"I will." Passing that message along might be slightly strained, but it's the thought that counts. Thanking him again, you press the red button on your phone screen to end the call and groan so loudly that Agent Bailey sticks her head into the room just to make sure you didn't hurt yourself. "I can't believe you did that!" You squawk, throwing a second pillow at Sydney. This one hits her square in the shoulder where the first one missed.

“But tell me it wasn’t worth it?” She challenges, throwing the pillow back at you. “You have a date for the State dinner and you learned that he wasn’t ignoring you either.” She folds her arms over her chest and looks at you with a smug smile. “Come on, what other problems do we need to solve? World hunger?”

"Go to Friday night dinner in my place if you want to work on global issues." You snark playfully. The fact is, you know she's right. Annoyingly so, actually, and right now you're still processing.

“Maybe now you will get some sleep.” She huffs, still smug that everything was working out. “You’ve got a dress, a date and I’ll even have one of the wedding stylists that owes me a favor come do your hair and makeup.” She hums. “I made a special dinner for her and her boyfriend for Valentine’s.” She explains.

"What are you, the Romance Fairy?" Dragging yourself off the bed, you carry the dress over to your closet and carefully hang it up where nothing bad could ever touch it. The garment bag that it's in will help make sure of that. "Come on, we have soup to make."

She doesn’t mention that the State dinner isn’t supposed to be romantic. She just grins and follows you. “Yes ma’am, Hummingbird, ma’am.”

"Oh god, don't call me that around him." This, in particular, is an incredibly stern warning. At this point you're just grateful that the Secret Service use your callsign quietly enough that they're not overheard when they say it. "I'll die of embarrassment."

“I won’t.” She promises, aware that you aren’t quite ready to address that particular issue.

“I just don’t even want to think about that.” You don’t want to, but you have been. Rather constantly, which is a growing issue.

“Let’s just get you through the State dinner and your birthday.” Syd suggests. “Then you can let that big brain of yours work overtime on non-issues.”

Throwing Sydney a look of dismay over the last of your coffee, you pout animatedly. “I debated terms of my birthday with my mother at the last dinner.”

“And?” Sydney almost laughs at your look and turns away to start rummaging through your fridge for the ingredients for the soup. “What was negotiated?”

“Cocktail. High end pub, finger foods and a DJ.” You shake your head and huff a sigh. “I said I should just go to a ball game, but that was unacceptable.”

“It’s hard to run security for the president at a stadium.” She reminds you. “And your mom would want to be there.”

“I just…” Looking back at Sydney, you cross your arms and shrug. “I don’t think I have all that much to celebrate this year, I guess.”

“You have a lot to celebrate.” Your friend will always hype you up and she does so now. “You have your health, a successful business with your best friend.” She cheeses playfully at you. “Your mother is the president of the United States and….” She shrugs. “You’ve hit your dirty thirties. We have to celebrate.”

“I can’t exactly have dirty thirties when my mother is the president.” You throw your arms around her again and squeeze her shoulders, grateful for every second you have Sydney by your side. You’ve been each other’s ride or die since first grade and that will never change. “And you’re pregnant, so you already got dirty.”

“I did.” She snorts with a wicked grin. “And I enjoyed every second of it, too.”

“Perv.” You really can’t help but tease her, but it’s purely out of affection. “It’s just because you’ve got your super sexy soulmate. The Triple S is undeniable.”

“He is sexy.” She can’t deny that, grinning wickedly as she rubs her stomach. “And getting sexier. Did I tell you he’s starting to get sympathy cravings? Dad bod mode is close.”

“Your wildest dreams are all about to come true.” The two of you giggle together as you start to pull ingredients out of the fridge, getting started on cooking that batch of soup.

“So, do you feel better now?” Sydney asks, organizing the vegetables and opening the drawer for the carrot peeler. She had helped you set up the kitchen to her specifications so she could easily find what she wanted when she cooked here.

“A little.” It’s relief more than anything, as you start to peel fresh ginger. It’s the secret ingredient to your best ever chicken noodle soup. “And then I feel guilty for it, which is fucked up. Like I think Marcus might actually enjoy himself on Saturday just for the bragging rights and then I immediately feel bad for thinking that.”

“Why do you feel bad?” She cocks her head as she peels the outer layer off the crisp, orange carrots. “I think most people will enjoy themselves just for bragging rights, it’s brag worthy.”

“Promise you won’t judge me and promise you won’t tell anyone. Not even Juan.” Holding your pinky finger out to her is the most solemn promise you can possibly as of your friend, and neither one of you has ever refused it.

“Of course.” Juan knows everything you are comfortable with, but she would never betray your trust like that. She hooks her finger around yours and looks at you for an explanation.

“I…” Glancing around, you see that Agent Bailey has dutifully slipped out of earshot and is sitting on your couch with a crossword book firmly in hand. “I feel guilty because now that it’s set…I can’t help wishing it was a date,” you admit quietly, hanging your head turn.

“It kind of is a date.” Syd admits, looking at you with a sense of regret for teasing you. “A platonic on, but a date nonetheless.” She hums. “Just like you and I have dates. Friend dates.”

“That…regrettably…is not what I mean.” The best you can really do is shrug your shoulders in defeat. “Friend dates are awesome and I will take you on dates for the rest of our lives. But I—I wish this was different than that. And it sucks.”

“You can’t help attraction.” She argues softly, knowing that you will still feel guilty. You are very stern about cheating, and this is veering into emotional territory for you. “He might not- it should just be about the dinner.”

“I know.” Peel ginger. Grate ginger. Try not to think too hard about what Marcus will look like in a tux. “I know. You’re right.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs softly. “I shouldn’t have pushed.” She feels guilty, especially now that she knows how you are feeling about this.

“How could you have known? I’ve kept this as firmly to myself as I possibly could.” And keeping things from Sydney is the most impossible task in the world for you. “Besides. He was the right choice.”

“Still doesn’t make me any less sorry.” She huffs, washing the carrots and bringing them over to the chopping board. “I don’t want you to be stressed, I want you to be happy.”

“I’m going to be stressed until I make a decision about what to do.” Once the ginger is done you move on to washing and slicing celery. “And I don’t know how to make that decision.”

Sydney sighs heavily. “I hate that for you.” She admits softly. “If you need to talk, you let me know.”

“What does Juanito think I should do?” You know her well enough to know that she’s talked to her husband — her own soulmate — about this at least a little.

“Juan thinks that you should be happy.” She hums softly. “Whatever that entails. As long as you are fair to everyone.”

"No groundbreaking advice?" If you're honest with yourself, you were kind of hoping for it. Instead, you're definitely floundering.

Sydney stops chopping and points the tip of the knife at you. “You know what he would say, Birdie.”

Ugh. That's true. You do. Juan is unfalteringly trustworthy like that. "That I have to talk to both of them..."

“Even if Marcus isn’t your soulmate, you are attracted to him, and it’s worth seeing if he might be the one you want to be with.” She shrugs, knowing that it’s easy to give advice when she’s found her soulmate and is blissfully happy. “Or it might just say that Sam isn’t the one.”

"Have you noticed a pattern?" Even as you're making the soup, going through effort and putting care into a dish to comfort and heal, a pattern is becoming as obvious as daybreak.

“I have.” She nods and looks back up at you. “Have you noticed that pattern? Or have you just been ignoring it?”

"I think..." A heavy sigh escapes you as you deposit the clean, diced celery in a bowl. "I might have been ignoring it."

“It’s okay to admit that a relationship has run its course.” She reminds you. “Sometimes, things just aren’t meant to be.”

"It's just...no version of this conversation we've had in the last few weeks has ended with the conclusion that I should stay with Sam. And that...that is not how I ever expected things to go. He's such a sweet guy and we've had such a good time." Just as unexpected as this conclusion is the tear that rolls down your cheek, and you brush it away immediately. "It's shitty to break up with someone while they're sick, right?"

“I think you owe him a face to face explanation.” She doesn’t tell you that it’s wrong, if that’s what you want to do. She’ll support whatever you want.

"Shit," you groan, reaching next for an onion. Sydney has trained you to be a dutiful sous chef for so long that now you just do her prep work without thinking. "This is going to suck, isn't it?"

“It doesn’t have to.” She counters. “You said Sam’s reaction was….surprisingly hostile. Maybe he’s had some doubts about the relationship too.”

"If he was hostile about the fact that I was standing my ground, he's either going to be hostile about being broken up with, or just completely silent." Sam doesn't take rejection well, you've seen it in a more professional setting but it will certainly apply here.

“Was he hostile?” She asks seriously. “Or were you both in unknown territory and stubbornly waiting for the other to give in?”

Groaning animatedly, you bump Sydney with your hip at the counter and shake your head. "Sometimes I truly dislike how well you know me. I'm just saying that out loud for the record."

“You know you love me.” She snorted and blows a raspberry at you playfully.

"I do love you." But it garners another groan from you all the same. "This was so much easier when we were kids and our life plan was to live in a castle until we were old enough for a nursing home, and then to be the super weird old ladies on the front porch of the home cursing at people as they walked by."

“We are still on for that.” She jokes, motioning to the apartment. “We are in our castle right now.”

"Technically we can go to an American castle any time we want," you point out. "It comes with the price of visiting my family, but the White House does count as a castle."

“Yes it does.” She agrees, proud to know the first family so well. “But I like our castle better.”

"I love this place." From the first day you set foot inside the inn, you have absolutely adored both working here and even running the place. Living in the caretaker's apartment has been comforting. Like a warm hug on a cold day. "And I love that we get to share it."

“There is no one I would rather do this with.” She tells you honestly, so excited to be able to live out the vague dreams of college now as adults.

"You're gonna make me teary again," you complain, fully teasing her but definitely feeling a little emotional about the whole situation.

“I thought it was my job to be the emotional mess.” Sydney sniffles and moves to wrap her arms around you and squeeze tight.

“Sympathy mood swings.” That makes both of you laugh, there at the counter. “Is that a thing?”

“Why not?” She asks, laughing herself at her husband and best friend having sympathy symptoms of her pregnancy.

“It is now, I guess.” You keep working through the soup prep side by side, getting everything ready in unison. “The thing is…” you hum after you’ve both stopped laughing. “I do care about Sam. And I want him to be happy. I just…don’t think I’m going to be the one to give him the future he wants. Which sucks to realize.”

“It’s better that you realize it now.” She rationalizes. “Less heartache and it’s not like you’re married with kids.”

“And we haven’t started moving in.” That’s an unexpected relief, and the realization that it was moving in together that kicked at your doubt is something you’ll have to grapple with later. “I probably only have a couple of things at his place and the only thing I’ve got of his here is a book I borrowed.”

“And….” She sighs. “Let’s face it, Sam wasn’t happy with you spending all your time at the inn.” She voices. “He rarely wanted to come here, even though he’s the one that can more easily travel.”

“Have you been holding back on me, Badillo?” You raise an eyebrow at her as she works on the chicken. “Hiding the things about Sam that have been bothering you?”

“No.” You don’t seem very surprised. “Just observations that I have made, but I wasn’t sure how you would take them.” She explains. “You were very proud of your relationship with Sam and I didn’t want to influence you unduly.”

"I was." And you can acknowledge that firmly, knowing that the relationship you forged with Sam was based on respect and mutual affection. It does feel like failure to see it ending, but at least you tried. Failure is just a means for new growth, as your mother has always told you.

“I know you look at this as a failure.” She’s known you way too long to think otherwise. “But this was a year long relationship that at the end of the day- you weren’t on the same page.”

“I think it would feel very different if I wasn’t sure it was going to end up talked about in every gossip column from sea to shining sea.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, knowing — and hating — how true it is. Junie isn’t dating and Alex isn’t dating publicly, so all eyes are on you. Especially if you break up with a Congressman.

“Don’t let it bother you.” She urges you. “It’s not like they can say anything bad.”

“Tell that to Princess Diana.” You huff, shaking your head and rolling your shoulders to try to straighten out your head a little. “Okay. New topic. Baby name? I’m dying to know what you guys picked.”

She smiles, rubbing her stomach in that universally happy way all expectant mothers do. “Constance Maria Badillo.” She lights up as she tells you the name they had finally decided on last night.

“Oh, honey.” There’s a measure of delight in your giggle when you light up, finding out those two essential pieces of information all at once. Sydney and Juan had been keeping both under wraps. “It’s a girl? Really?”

“We just found out.” She admits, grinning like a maniac. “Of course, baby Badillo could have just been shy but they are pretty positive she’s a girl.”

"You must be thrilled." Of course Sydney would be happy no matter what the gender as long as the baby is healthy, but you know she's always dreamed about having her little girl.

“Over the moon.” Agreeing happily, she turns back to the chicken. “And Juan and I have talked about it.” It’s a casual beginning. “We want you to be her Godmother, as well as Auntie Birdie.”

"Syd." Your knife gets put down immediately and you turn to her with a look of complete awe on your face. "Are you sure? You don't want to ask your sister? I mean I am honored and one thousand percent here for it."

“No.” She shakes her head and her own tools are set down so she can address this properly. “There is no one that we want more than you.” She explains. “You will always be my choice for godparent.”

"I know I've said it before in our lives, but I am here for anything you need." It's not just for Syd, and you lean down and hum a happy hello to your goddaughter that's growing like crazy. "That goes for you too, kiddo. Hear me? Auntie Birdie's got your back. And your front. And all the other bits of you forever."

“You are going to be her favorite.” Sydney sniffles, her hormones making her cry happy tears. “The one she confides in when she can’t bear to tell me or Juan and I love you for that.”

“I hope so.” Wrapping your best friend up in a hug is exactly what this moment needs, and the sound of two women sniffling takes over your kitchen for just long enough to make both of you break out into giggles. “She’s going to get the best of me and I’m going to tell her about all the stupid bullshit we got into as teenagers.”

“Oh god, you better not.” Sydney groans, rolling her eyes. “Nothing she can throw back in my face when she’s angsty and argumentative.”

“Nothing that will put you in Mom Jail,” you tease with a wink. “Promise.”

“Thank goodness.” She snorts. “This one is already gonna have her daddy wrapped around her finger, so I’m gonna have to be the bad cop.”

“It will go back and forth. One day she’ll do something that makes Juan crazy and you’ll be the arms that she runs to.” It happened in your own house more than once, there’s no reason it won’t happen in hers, too. “It will all turn out. She’s going to have the best parents in the world.”

“I hope so.” She shrugs slightly, aware that they will make mistakes, but hopefully it won’t be too bad to make their daughter hate them.

“You have love,” you remind her with a gentle smile. “Have a little faith, too. If nothing else, we all believe in you. All your friends and your family know you’re going to be great.”

“We will have our little village for Constance.” She agrees. “So when we mess up, we can learn.”

“For Baby Badillo number two,” you tease, beaming at her.

“Juan is already asking how many more I want.” Sydney snort, huffing slightly even if she’s grinning. “Told him that he needed to let me birth this one first before we decided that.”

“One at a time is probably best. For your body and your sanity.” Although, you do raise an eyebrow at her. “Twins don’t run in your family, right?”

“Not that I know of, but Juan thinks some cousins might have twins.” She winces and shakes her head with a laugh. “I’ll kill him.”

"Fingers crossed that you only have to grow one baby at a time." With everything prepped, you move to the sink to wash your knives and fetch your best stock pot from the cabinets. "But I will spoil the hell out of all of them, no matter what."

“I know you will.” She knows what despite your already busy schedule, you will always make time for those that matter most to you. Which is why it’s so telling her that you and Sam have been spending less and less time together over the last few months.

“So…” Flashing Sydney a grin as she starts to cook, you move back to the refrigerator to put things away and to get fresh drinks for both of you. “Two questions, then. First: Have you picked a godfather? And two, if I’m her go mother does that mean I get to throw your baby shower?”

"I'm letting Juan pick out the godfather." She admits, shrugging slightly. "I don't- he's got some ideas, but he hasn't made a final decision yet."

“Most of his friends are fathers already, aren’t they?” The Guy friends that Juan had made in the DC area since moving east after meeting Sydney are all responsible men around his age and most of them have families of their own. It’s a small group, it they’re tight knit.

"Yeah....except that, now, Juan has started thinking that he wants someone that is...." She rolls her eyes, "trained." She huffs and moves over to wash her hands again. "You know how involved he was with beefing up security here, he wants a protector for our little girl in case something happens to us."

“Well…that’s not unreasonable, right?” Spying a can of croissant dough — a cheat you’re very fond of — in your fridge, you grab it and decide to fill them with Nutella and berries for a little dessert pastry. “I mean he’s got friends who are trained. Be able to pick someone.”

"I know." She sighs and turns back to you. "I just hate that he's so practical about it." She admits, biting her lip again. "I don't want to think about us not being here to protect her."

“Then try to think of it like he’s choosing someone who can help her learn to protect herself,” you offer instead. As she grows up and faces new things — whatever those things are — her godfather will have been there to teach her self-confidence and safety in equal measure.”

There's a moment where Sydney thinks about what you said and how it applies to the situation before she huffs out a slightly annoyed, mostly amused laugh. "How do you do that?" She grumbles. "I was ready to be in a tearful pout about that you have to go make it perfectly acceptable." There's no heat to her words and she flashes you a grateful smile. "Thanks."

“We’ve been friends for twenty-five years, Sydney Rose.” The grin you flash back at her in unapologetic. “If I don’t know how to talk you out of a panic by now, I’m more clueless than I thought.”

Pursing her lips at you, she doesn't try to deny it. Instead, she turns to rummage in your spice cabinet. "Do you have that turmeric I left up here last time?"

“It’s behind the huge mason jar of chili seasoning.” You tell her without looking up from your dough-chocolate-and-berry project. “Indian spices are in the back because I fucked up the last time I tried to make curry from scratch and they were taunting me.”

“Poor thing.” Sydney sympathizes and shrugs. “We just need to realize they put something extra in their recipes they won’t tell us.” She hums, talking about your favorite curry from your favorite restaurant that you had cancelled on Marcus going to.

"Some kind of magic that I can't wrap my brain around." There were strawberries in your fridge that you're now set on cleaning and trimming. A crescent roll filled with a dollop of Nutella and a whole strawberry is a thing of beauty. "I should just eat their take out every week for the rest of my life instead of trying to make it."

She smirks at you but doesn’t remind you that you would have had some the other day. It would be too cruel. “How about we order some Sunday?” She suggests. “Decompress from the State dinner?”

“That sounds amazing.” The gratitude you have and have always had for her friendship truly is never ending. “You can tell me all about dinner with your folks and we can get chaotic with each other over curry and Scrabble?”

“Sounds like we are party-ing.”She teases, although she loves it. Low key nights are her favorite.

“And all the sparkling apple cider we can stand.” If she’s going to tease you, you’re going to tease her right back. “By the way, I asked Mom to make sure my birthday has a mocktail so you don’t miss out on the fun.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” She beams at being included and tilts her head. “So how was the family dinner, besides the avoidance of Sam talk?”

“Alex is bringing David to the State dinner. Under wraps, of course.” Syd has known your family so long that she knows every inch of your siblings’ lives as well, just like you know hers. “Junie is learning to negotiate to be able to go to parties, so I know I’ve done my job as her big sister right.

“Your brother should be able to take any fucking body he wants to the State dinner.” She rolls her eyes and huffs, offended on behalf of your younger brother. “If foreign dignitaries don’t like it, fuck ‘em.”

"He can. It's not like the Spanish royals have a 'no gays' policy or something, and gay marriage obviously isn't the issue. It's that he doesn't want to become the center of an unnecessary debate. He is who he is, and I'm so proud of him for making his choices." Glancing over at her, you shrug slightly. "That being said? I get not wanting to be thrown into the spotlight for who you love."

“Of course you do.” It’s kind of a double-edged sword in her opinion, the political spotlight. You could be a darling of the media one day and the scapegoat the next, just depending on how the mercurial whim of the people shifted.

"It's one thing that Sam didn't seem to mind, and I was grateful for that." In no way are you going to start bad mouthing the man just because you've reached the finish line of your relationship. That's not the kind of person you are.

“I know, but I also know that dating a presidential candidate’s daughter during an election isn’t exactly bad press for a politician.” She holds up a hand. “I’m not saying that’s why he dated you, I’m not speaking ill, I’m just stating facts.”

"If he actually wants to be President, he needs to get used to having the Secret Service being around real fast." You snort, shaking your head and knowing that it really has been one thing bothering him pretty constantly. "He hates feeling like his privacy is being invaded."

“It might be because he’s not in control of the detail.” She guesses. “You have the final say on the detail and where they are.”

"Either way, I don't think he'll miss having an agent in his living room." There are plenty of strawberries, so you offer one to Syd and pop a small one in your mouth to savor. "Maybe I just won’t date during my mom’s administration. Maybe that’s the solution.”

“You like having a partner though.” She argues. “And you shouldn’t give up dating because of who your mother is.”

"It might just be less complicated." It's not what you want but it would certainly save you some heartache. "What's the worst that happens? I'm single for the next eight years?"

“Already counting on that re-election?” She teases, bumping your hip playfully.

You huff, swallowing a half-laugh, and bump her back. "More like pondering my worst case scenario."

“Whatever happens, we will be with you.” She promises with a grin.

______

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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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