#because it’s just Hate on Sight ready to kick his ass | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delcakoo · 2 years ago

Text

enha giving you partner privilege ˖ ࣪ ˒ ‎♡⃕

requested <3

PAIRING ! enhypen x gn!reader

GENRE ! cavity inducing fluff!

WC ! 3.1k

WARNINGS ! being judged for wearing a skirt in jungwon’s

a/n: help i’m sorry this took literal months but finally feeding u all an enha reaction-ish T-T i took multiple long breaks between most of these so. sorry if it’s weird lol

LEE HEESEUNG !

if literally anybody tries to tease or make fun of this man.. oh no

he is NOT afraid to retaliate and tear them to shreds, even if it’s his closest friends or members <\3

when it comes to you though..

he just ,, LETS YOU ?!

and everyone else agrees that it’s totally unfair, INCLUDING YOU because you wanted a reaction.. that’s the whole point of teasing :(

but instead he just sits there with a dumb little smirk because he thinks you’re so cute and wants to give you a kiss as you continue calling him a loser 🧌

“hah, you suck. i don’t even play video games and i won,” you taunt with a big, victorious grin

heeseung doesn’t even complain or fight back, continuing to go past the results screen with a nonchalant smirk, “yeah yeah.. you just got lucky”

however, you begin to pout slightly, earning no actual reaction from your relentless teasing

so you try and push him further, “nuh uh, i think you’re just bad. but it’s okay seungie, you can’t be good at everything~”

well, that doesn’t work either

instead of getting mad heeseung just GRINS, quietly admiring how cute you look when you’re all cocky and smug about your little victory

aaand then everything goes downhill when sunghoon enters the room 😟

the tall boy snickers immediately at the sight of the tv, watching your character dance in victory, “nice one, y/n!”

you grin up at the younger with a wink, “thanks hoon, i must admit, it was an easily won battle.”

he laughs harder, “next time you gotta go easy on him,” feeling brave apparently, sunghoon has the nerve to ruffle your boyfriend’s fluffy hair with a mischievous smirk, “you know how hyung gets when he loses.”

yikes

heeseung’s once adoring expression turns into one of (half joking) annoyance, jaw clenched as he swats sunghoon’s hand away from his head

“really bro? 1v1 me right now then, i’ll kick your ass and we both know it,” he sasses, getting ready to throw the other controller at the boy

the speed in which sunghoon bolted outta the room in pure terror

you’re just 🧍

“no fair, how come you don’t get mad when i tease you?” you complain, crossing your arms like a toddler

heeseung’s expression softens again, pulling you towards his side of the couch for a warm hug, “s’cause you’re my baby,” he murmurs cheesily against your skin

“and ‘cause i let you win.”

“aw— wait what?” 😕

// PARK JAY !

the amount of privilege you have as this man’s partner?? lord

there is a lOt

you get excused for every little thing

even though jay hates ppl touching his hair he lets you?! and of course will make you food ALL the time

while if anyone else asks, they’ll prob have to spend some time convincing him for a while or bribe him y’know

but perhaps the biggest one..

disturbing jay during his naps is equivalent to asking for a punch in the face

it’s pretty much common knowledge amongst the members that it’s impossible to wake him up anyway

but if they somehow do get him up, they should expect many annoyed grunts and remarks and probably a middle finger before he inevitably falls back to sleep

naps are very serious business for mr park

BUT when you’re in the picture..

suddenly he gets all soft and compliant..

his members find this very annoying and you’re just like hah losers 🥰

at this point they start facetiming you whenever he’s napping because bro practically launches out of bed at the sound of your voice

“hyung, hyung wake up!” jungwon is literally shaking the older boy, pushing him back and forth on the bed

yet he is sTiLL asleep

there has to be some kind of sleeping competition they can sign him up for because god he deserves an award <\3

jungwon eventually gives up, calling for sunghoon’s help

and how does he help?

giving him a big smack on the head of course

finally, jay flinches awake, groaning as he touches his head, “what the hell hoon?!”

“dinner’s ready! ” jungwon quickly announces with a grin, “me and sunoo tried cooking this time and i swear, we didn’t burn anything and it actually tastes—“

“don’t care. let me sleep.”

“but hyung the—“

*snores*

sunghoon sighs, “alright, it’s time we pull out the big guns.”

by that, they mean forcing you to come over there in exchange for some of the boys’ homemade dinner

jungwon and sunghoon watch from the doorway as you tiptoe over to the bed, doing what you do best: tricking your boyfriend

“pretty boy,” you whisper, tracing down his sharp jawline with a feathering touch

and like that, jay starts stirring, eyes eventually fluttering open

“oh, so i have to slap him, but they just cARess his face and suddenly he’s rising and shining— ow!” sunghoon groans when jungwon elbows him into the wall to shut him up

jay yawns, “y/n? what’re you doing here?”

he reaches up to give you a peck, and you nearly coo at his raven hair all tangled cutely

“wanted to have dinner with you guys,” you lie, grabbing his hand to pull him up

“yeah but i was napping..” he protests childishly, making jungwon roll his eyes in the background

it was rare for jay to have his baby moments, but it happens !!

you continue rubbing his hand, “well you also have to eat babe, and i’m gonna be here too.”

at that, he sighs, but gets up from bed, stretching with a yawn

“hallelujah!” sunghoon cheers, prancing over to give you a high five

jungwon groans, “what would we do without you y/n”

jay is just 🧍

“aish.. you were forced here to wake me up weren’t you?”

all three of you make nervous eye contact before running off to the kitchen jungwon claps his hand at last, “who’s ready to have the most life changing meal of your lives?”

// SIM JAEHYUN !

jake’s a little shy about it

but if someone takes something of his he will definitely go D:

he does a little pout!!

and if it’s something that he absolutely REFUSES to share

like a straw

then he’ll be like “ay that’s mine, go get your own!!” in a half joking, jake way y'know?

but when it comes to you…

he cant say no to your cute face <3

everything jake owns? yours

congrats you have a whole second closet now

want some of his food? take the whole plate !!

he even calls you layla’s other parent despite being very very protective of her :(((

thats when you knew you’re extremely special to him !

jake’s just peacefully lying on the couch, waiting for you to finish up showering

when all of a sudden heeseung strolls in, humming as he goes to fill up a glass of water in the kitchen

as jake was about to greet him, his brows furrow at the sight of a familiar logo on the back of the older boy’s green shirt

“hyung..?” he calls suspiciously

“hmm?”

“is that my shirt?”

heeseung looks down for a moment, scanning his outfit before shrugging

“maybe. found it on the floor,” the older replies

jake just frowns

“bro, i don’t wanna share shirts with you! you’re always sweaty as hell after playing league until 3am!”

heeseung takes a leisurely sip of his water, uncaring of the whiney younger boy on the couch, “well too bad. stop leaving your shit on the floor then.”

before jake can give him another pouty complaint, the sound of a yawn coming out of his room leads both boy’s to turn and investigate

a huge smile rushes to jake’s face at the sight of you in one of his t-shirts just like heeseung, the soft white fabric overflowing down your thighs

“angel! is that my shirt?” he giggles cutely

“uh yeah, is that okay?”

“what, of course! you look adorable, c’mere angel,” your boyfriend demands with grabby hands, ignoring heeseung’s disbelieving eye roll nearby

“but when i wear your shirt it’s the end of the goddamn world, huh?”

you snicker quietly as you walk over to jake, letting him pull you in for a kiss

jake smirks, “mhm, now give it back or i’m eating all our ramen without you.”

“you wouldn’t..”

“try me, hyung~”

then he sticks his tongue out in his classic jake way 💪

// PARK SUNGHOON !

getting straight to the point here

when someone touches sunghoon he’s immediately on guard

he’s a lot better with those who are close to him, but he still gets a bit stiff and awkward

and with strangers.. he’ll just try and find an escape right away

this goes especially for his facial area

he will not hesitate to swat anyone’s hand away or flinch in annoyance if they try to pinch his cheeks or poke his nose >:(

similarLY to how sunoo was now

“i saw you blushing when that engene in the front row called you hot~” the younger boy snickers, “you’ve been an idol for two years now, and you’re still not used to that?”

then suddenly hoon’s cheeks are being pushed together, making his lips form a pout

“our sunghoonie is so cute~”

his hand is quickly slapped away 😒

“ow!”

before sunoo can even complain you’re rushing into the dressing room with a vip pass around your neck, running over to give your boyfriend a hug

sunoo watches with a pout as you cup sunghoon’s jaw, reaching up to give him a peck

“you did amazing as usual, i’m so proud!”

yeah

contrary to pretty much everyone else, sunghoon wants your touch and enjoys it thoroughly <3

in your hold, he’s completely relaxed; pushing his cheek further into your hand as he wraps his arms around you

“thank you,” he whispers with a cheeky grin

feeling playful, you even go to pinch his cheeks

and instead of getting mad the boy just gigGLES like a whipped idiot

sunoo crosses his arms, “what!? no fair!”

hoon kinda forgot his bandmate was there to witness everything 🧌

“yah, why’re you still there?” he barks, “shoo!”

you purse your lips to hold in your laugh, waving bye to the sulking boy who only rolls his eyes

you snicker once he’s gone, “so.. what was that about?”

sunghoon sighs, “don’t worry about it..” you raise a brow when he scoops you up, placing you on the makeup table, “now, where were we? celebrating how good i did, right ;)”

// KIM SUNOO !

this one’s a lil’ hard because sunshine is kinda bad at saying no and lets his members get away with a bit toO much

but he still tries to be is very strict when it comes to paying for things because why should he be paying for niki’s new pokemon game ??

of course if it’s his members birthday, an occasional treat, or maybe if he lost a bet it’d be an exception

but besides that he’s pretty good at not falling for the members puppy eyes and pouty whining

this of course isn’t the same for you

you’re literally the love of his life!! his partner of COUrse he has to spoil you and buy you absolutely everything you want >:(

sunoo will literally tell you beforehand to not let him sEe your wallet on dates or he’ll get upset

(even though when he becomes all pouty you only think he’s adorable)

sunoo would be doing his skincare

having the time of his life y’know putting his face mask on and—

“hyung, can you—“ before he can even finish, riki starts CACKLING and sunoo already knows it’s because of his green face mask ..

“you— you look like-“ he snorts, “the little green guy from monsters inc-“

sunoo slaps his arm, “yah, i do not. what do you want, brat?”

the younger boy grins, staring at him through the mirror

“so… splatoon 3 came out and..”

“absolutely not”

riki gAsps in offense, “why not!? it’s only like 90$!”

“do i look like your mom?”

“kinda—“

“shut up. go ask jake hyung, you know he can’t say no to you”

then suddenly

you, who was on your boyfriend’s bed waiting for his return, prance into the bathroom as well

“sunnie guess what!?”

sunoo smiles brightly at your arrival, pausing his ministrations to meet your eyes

“hmm?”

you grab his arm, shaking him back and forth, “seventeen is coming on tour here next month! we have to get tickets!”

he gasps, “really!? okay, i’ll get us tickets tonight!”

but then riki.. 🧌

“hyung, why will you buy y/n a concert ticket but i can’t get a game?”

“because they’re y/n and you’re riki ☺️”

ouch <\3

// YANG JUNGWON !

AWHhh won’s the cutest with giving you privilege T-T

there’s a lot of super small things that you might not even notice

like letting you touch his dimples, wear his clothes or play with his hair

you may not realise your privilege ‘cause if anyone else did those things he proBably wouldn’t say anything

because he’s jungwon

BUT when you do it he genuinely encourages you and gets all giggly <3

one thing you’ve definitely noticed though is how protective wonnie tends to get over you compared to others

he’s already quite protective of the people he loves as is

but 99% of the time he won’t mention or say anything if an issue comes up:

say an interviewer makes a comment he doesn’t approve of

some backhanded compliment to one of his members

or maybe a joke gone too far

he isn’t the type to say something rude in response or bring it up off camera, at most the interviewer would receive a very harsh glare and frown

when it comes to his partner though..

no no absolutely nOt.

you are his responsibility!! his person, his love and therefore he will not hesitate to defend you and fight anyone who dares to bring a tear to your face

suddenly his normal coherent thoughts of ‘it’s okay jungwon, don’t say anything, be professional’ FLIES OUT THE WINDOW BECAUSE no. he will not accept this

for example!!

one day you and won were going on a cute lil picnic in the park <3

you decided to wear a skirt for the heck of it, thinking it’d look cute especially with the picnic idea and the weather getting a tad warmer

so once you’re both out of the car, jungwon holding the basket of pastries while you carried the drinks and blanket, you were both pretty sure nothing could ruin the cheery mood

jungwon even complimed your skirt, mentioning how he thought it suited you perfect :D

“wah, i’ve been wanting to have a picnic all year. really, this is gonna be perfect!” your boyfriend says cheekily

“mhm, next time we should bring mauemi though!��

you wait for jungwon’s reply with a smile, but it quickly drops when you look up to see an old woman on a bench staring at you as if you’d done something terrible, her wrinkly face pulled into a displeased frown

brows furrowing, you follow her gaze to your bare legs, a tug of insecurity forming in your stomach as she scans you up and down

“..and the squirrels would be perfect to chase—“ jungwon pauses when he glances over at you, worry increasing as he notices your visibly deflated expression, “jagi?”

his eyes follow yours, widening when he sees the lady send you daggers from across the park

jungwon’s brows furrow, holding your hand tighter with every step you take closer to her

if it was anyone else, he knew that he wouldn’t say a thing; probably brush it off, maybe send her a frown back

but he simply can’t help the words that tumble from his mouth, “is something wrong, ma’am?”

your eyes widen right away because wonnie nEver has the guts to call people out like that usually???

ESPEcially not an elderly person ..

of course, the old woman only scoffs rudely in response, muttering something in a malicious tone under her breath

the boy holding your hand smirks in satisfaction and you sigh, quickly leading him away as fast as possible

“yah, why’d you do that?!” you whisper-yell

he gives you an obvious glance, “because i didn’t like how she looked at you”

jungwon looks cute 99% of the time, but at that moment with the harsh glare on his face, he’s a bit intimidating even to you <\3

you gulp, “still..”

“no, y/n,” he interrupts sternly, “i refuse to let my pretty s/o stay upset when there’s something i can do about it”

with that, jungwon places down the picnic basket and starts pulling out your snacks like nothing happened <3

“so, what should we eat first?” :D

// NISHIMURA RIKI !

sigh.

now for this boy your partner privilege is THROUGH THE ROof okay

the difference in how he treats you to everyone else??

literally anyone can see the difference even if it’s their first time meeting you guys

riki’s a combo of all the previous ones

lets u wake him up whenever and even interrupt him while dancing/gaming

definitely gives u all the pda u want but if anyone else tries it he may bite them

and ofc defends you withOut hesitation even if it’s just some lame joke he will roast them right back mf !!!

the most noticeable point though is for sure how a majority of the time he listens to whatever you say ON THE FIRST TRY

it’s ‘majority of the time’ because if he didn’t annoy you at least a bit that wouldn’t be riki

it could be something so small

sunghoon and you would be chilling on the couch, then he’d see riki walk in

“yah, can you get me a water?”

mans gets ignored as niki pUshes him over to sit next to you instead

“no, i’m lazy.”

sunghoon just rolls his eyes, meanwhile you were on your phone; completely oblivious to the conversation as you reach over to kiss the younger boy’s cheek

“babe, can you go grab me a drink please?”

bro SPRINTS to the kitchen without another word 🧌

nobody knows why he’s so enthusiastic to serve you but !!

sunghoon is tempted to call him a simp

or exhibit b

you’re at the dorms watching jake and niki play some video game

or at least. they were supposed to be playing together

but apparently it was a single player game and your boyfriend was being a bit of a hog judging by how they were practically wrestling on the carpet for the controller 😟

then after a while longer jake desperately calls out for you

“y/nnn he won’t give me a turn!”

you realise at that moment that this is what having kids must feel like

meanwhile riki gives u that innocent look as if he did nothing

you sigh, “yah, give jake a turn. haven’t you been playing for like 15 minutes straight?”

jake nods furiously in agreement

he pouts, “well yeah but..”

you give him the stink eye

aaand he passes the controller over without any more complaints <\3

jake lets out a vEry sarcastic thank you while riki wanders all the way over to you and plops down in your embrace like a whiny toddler

then he just looks up at you from your lap

“you look pretty today.”

jake groans in the background while you nearly choke

“all of a sudden??”

“yeah,” he replies simply, “i don’t mind giving up my spot to jake ‘cause i have a much better view now~”

what will you do with this boy ��

if u enjoyed, reblogs n’ comments r always appreciated!

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plussizefantasia · 2 months ago

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Hey! Can I get a Thorin x f!reader where the company doesn’t believe in her because of her size and the fact that she’s a woman and then she totally kicks ass and doesn’t care what they think. And he totally regrets ever doubting her? Fluff ending if you can please!!

You Saved Me

Thorin x Warrior!reader

WC: ~3k

warnings: violence, death, it's essentially a botfa re-write so...

a/n: thank you for the request, this was entirely written in a burst of passion at midnight so if they're are any typos I'm sorry, let me know and I'll fix them <3

You were a feared warrior, one with skills you’d been honing since you could walk. Your parents had been killed by an orc pack when you were but a baby and you were taken in by the rangers who found you crying by the bodies of your loved ones. Almost a year ago you were sent a letter by that blasted grey wizard, an invitation, or maybe a plea you weren't sure anymore. Join a company of dwarves on their quest, and keep them safe. That is all he asked of you.

You had tried, you really had tried to keep them safe but when those blasted dwarves took one look at you and decided that there wasn't any possible way you knew anything about fighting, it became difficult. You had several moments where all you wanted to do was clobber them over the head, but you refrained.

The whole journey was wrought with their endless need to remind you that you were a woman, a bigger one at that. They must’ve thought you hadn’t noticed or something of that nature, for surely they wouldn’t keep bringing it up if not to hurt you on purpose. They never forgot to tell you how much they thought you were soft, incapable, fragile.

You’d shown them time and time again that this wasn't the case, incapacitating two of the trolls when they were all tied up in sacks ready to be cooked for dinner. You were defending Ori when you were discovered by the warg scouts before your arrival at Rivendell. You were the first to join ranks and fend off the hundreds of bloodthirsty goblins in Goblin-town. Not to mention how you risked your life for Thorin’s when Azog attacked. You had run in with no weapon, just pure adrenaline and a need to save your leader.Not that you would ever tell him that. Tell any of them that.

Thorin was certainly one of a kind. He was undoubtedly cold, it was his nature, he had lost too much in too short a time to be willing to open himself up to others. Especially when the ‘others’ consisted of a woman ranger he hadn’t wanted on the quest in the first place. You understood though, you too had lost too much.

You wouldn't say that he warmed up to you, but it didn’t seem like he hated you as much as he did in the beginning. You had even caught him smiling once or twice when you cuffed Fili and Kili over the head at their cheeky remarks about your size.

Over and over again you’ve defended these idiotic men, and yet nothing changed, they still had no faith. Most of them treated you horribly not that you think they noticed. It was hard to ignore their callousness when it came to you, especially compared to the warmth they shared with one another. There were several nights when their words became too much and you had to stray from camp in order to let the tears fall out of sight. But you had promised Gandalf that you would protect them, and if that meant staying even when it was obvious you weren't wanted, then that is what you’d do.

It wasn’t until Thorin, overtaken with his dragon sickness had cast you out that you had finally decided you were done. Done with dwarves, done with being underestimated and belittled at every moment.

“You will never be good enough, you are a burden to all those around you, a burden I no longer wish to be saddled with!” He had yelled from his position on the ramparts as you descended from the same rope that the hobbit had used just moments before.

Thorin had never been cruel, aloof maybe, but never cruel. You knew deep down that it was his addled mind that allowed this cruelty to spew from his mouth. Thorin may not have known you loved him, but you had thought the two of you had reached a sort of understanding, a mutual bond forged by the danger you’d overcome together. Apparently not.

You joined Gandalf’s side as he spoke to Thorin. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from yelling back at the King Under the Mountain. It wasn't until you heard Thorin’s reply that you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

“I will have war!” He yelled.

“You will have death!” You had screamed back “You will have death for you and your kin if you do not stop this foolishness Oakenshield!” With that, you turned and headed back towards the gates of Dale. If there really was to be a war you would be needed, to protect those who could not protect themselves.

You heard the horns of war in the distance and shook your head. Foolish dwarves doing foolish things. You kept running towards Dale hoping to be of some use.

Arriving at the old armory, you pulled out an old steel sword, one dating back to before the fall of the city. It wasn’t as good as the eleven blades that the elves of Mirkwood confiscated when you were captured, but it was well-balanced. The hilt was wrapped in old black leather, well worn and rough against your skin.

You didn’t have time to sift for a better weapon, so you took the sword and ran. Bursting out onto the street your eyes scanned for danger. You took in all the rubble, some new and some old from the dragon attack years ago. The screaming of a group of people made you cease your reminiscing and run towards them.

Taking down several enemies as you run, you finally round the corner into the main square. Landing your sight on Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda. Bain doing his very best to defend his sisters. You run forward without hesitation and trade blows with the monster in front of you, taking him down in no time at all.

“Are you all alright?” You ask rushing towards the girls and helping them down from the cart they had used as a hiding spot.

“We’re fine ma’am” Tilda responds in a shaky voice

“You all were very brave, but now it's time to head to the hall where everyone else is. Take cover, the battlefield is not safe for children I assure you.”

“But-” Bain had cut in.

“No, Bain, I know what your Da has asked of you but I’m telling you to take cover.”

He hesitated but nodded and took his sisters towards the main hall where the rest of the women and children were hiding.

You continue to take down the orcs and their armies as you run toward the main battlefield.

“Y/N! Y/N!” You hear your name being called, rotating quickly your eyes fall on the hobbit who had become very dear to you over the course of the Journey.

“Bilbo, are you hurt? What’s wrong?” You rushed out

“No. No, I’m fine it’s Thorin.”

“Thorin? What’s happened with Thorin where is he?” Your questioning picked up in intensity.

“The Pale Orc is atop Ravenhill, and Thorin, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili have all gone to kill him.” The Hobbit responded just as rushed.

Without another word, you grab the back of the Hobbit’s coat and drag him behind you. Your eyes quickly scan the horizon, taking inventory of anything that could get you to the top of the Mountain quickly. You spot Lord Dain, on his royal ram, and make a plan in your head.

Hobbit still in your grasp you sprint across the field towards the Dwarf Lord,

“Lord Dain! I need your ram.”

“W-What?!” He sputters.

“I am not asking.” You huff out a frustrated breath and use the hand not currently gripping your friend to shove the dwarf off of his steed, quickly taking his place and beginning your trek to the mountain. Sending a quick prayer to whatever being there might be to keep your love safe. Just long enough for you to kill him yourself.

Once you are sure he won’t fall off you let go of your hold on Bilbo and scan the ground flying past you for any more weapons you could use.

Seeing a discarded elven bow and quiver ahead of you, you steer the ram towards it and scoop it off the ground and into your grasp. Five Arrows, you’ll have to use them wisely, but it’s better than nothing.

You look towards Ravenhill, watching as the dwarves you have reluctantly come to care for dismount their own steed. Pushing your heels into the sides of your own ram you pray to any gods out there that you’ll make it in time.

You meet a few obstacles on your journey, the occasional orc arrow to be deflected, and even a troll who had fallen right in front of you. Nevertheless, in no time at all you reach the peak and search for the men you came to aid.

You only see Thorin and Dwalin as they fight their way through hordes of creatures of the dark. You leap into the fray and call out to the two warriors

“Where are the princes?”

“They’ve gone to search the structure.”

A yell coming from the tower quickly puts that thought to rest. You slash down the last monster before you quickly shift to see a sight that you’ll have a hard time forgetting. The pale orc holds Fili in his grasp. You immediately grasp your bow and nock an arrow.

The pale orc is too absorbed in his victory speech to notice you pulling back the string. With a deep breath, you let an arrow loose and send a quick prayer that it hits its target. Not a second later you hear a deep grunt and see that your aim is true. The arrow lodged itself deep into the meat of the arm holding the dwarf prince. He drops Fili in surprise and your eyes widen in fear. However, it is short-lived as Fili pulls a dagger out of nowhere and wedges into the stone of the tower, slowing his descent.

Four arrows left.

Azog staggers back and he catches himself on the wall behind him. His eyes find yours and you try not to shudder at the rage within him. This is a benefit you tell yourself. An angry enemy is a distracted enemy. His rage will be his downfall, you’ll make sure of it.

Fili lets go of the dagger and drops the rest of the distance, landing on his feet and quickly running to your side. Moments later, Kili runs from the tower and practically lunges for his brother.

“You idiot Fee.” The brother's embrace is hard and you’re a little worried they’ll suffocate each other. Eventually, Kili lets go and turns to you, “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“No need for apologies Kili. Gandalf asked me to protect you, and that’s what I’ve done.”

“Still, I underestimated you, I won’t do it again.” You nod at the prince and clap a hand on his shoulder.

“I have to go help your uncle, don’t follow me, and whatever you do don’t split up. You’re stronger together.”

“Aye.” They both reply and send a single nod your way.

You clutch your bow and scan your surroundings, a trail of black blood and a broken arrow stem point the way to the Pale Orc’s location.

“Fili, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra dagger would you?” You turn and ask. He smirks and opens his coat.

“Take your pick Lass.”

After grabbing two matching daggers from Fili you begin jogging towards the frozen waterfall. You are single-minded in your task, ignoring the shouts of battle from below and the wails of the dying. You cannot let yourself get distracted. Distraction means death and you can’t help anyone when you’re dead.

You come upon a scene that you’d only ever had nightmares about. Thorin and Azog facing off on a barren plane. Neither is holding back and you force yourself to push past the terror that grips your heart. As you run towards your king you begin releasing arrows one after the other.

Four. Three. Two. One. None.

Each arrow pierces the flesh of the monster pushing him back and back. Blow after blow sends him staggering and gives Thorin the advantage. He swings his sword and slashes at the beast. But Azog does not fall.

He yells. He stands and he starts returning blows. They are sloppy, his mace has no aim. It doesn’t need to, the force he puts behind it means he really only has to land one blow.

You can’t run fast enough to cover the distance, especially not on the ice. Nevertheless, you keep pushing. Your legs burn and so do your lungs but you keep going. You race against time and fate to reach the dwarf you love.

Thorin falls. The orc closes in. You run.

And run, and run, and run.

You don’t notice the battle cry that rips from your body, but the orc does.

He looks up and a sneer crosses his face.

You get closer.

You pull your daggers.

The orc stands.

You take a running jump.

Azog runs.

You smile.

This is foolish. You understand that, not even you as skilled as you are could take down a beast such as this. But you’ll try because you made two promises. One to Gandalf, that you would keep the company safe. And another to yourself, that if you survived this you would stop being afraid, you would tell Thorin you love him and…

Your daggers land in the Pale Orc’s shoulder blades. You hold on for dear life. His roar of pain nearly deafens you but you hold on still. Ripping one blade from his body you jab it at his neck. He grabs the back of your coat and pulls you away, you scratch him but nothing more. He lifts you into the air and looks into your eyes. The rage is still there, along with smugness, bloodlust, curiosity, and then - shock. His grip loosens and you fall to the ground.

You scramble away from him, grasping the ice with shaking hands. You stand and turn. Azog is still, frozen in time. Except now, there is a sword piercing his chest. Right where his heart should be, protrudes a sword you know very well.

Azog grips the blade and looks at you, then falls. He doesn’t get up.

Behind him stands Thorin, looking mightier than you’ve ever seen him. His hair is a mess and there is blood on his face and hands. Yet he’s never looked better. You run towards him and throw yourself into his arms. A laugh escapes you and you let yourself feel for a moment. Feel grateful, and scared and everything you’ve been holding back for the past few days.

Thorin’s grip on you is strong and you can feel the tremor in his hands as he guides them up and down your back.

“You saved me.” His deep timber pulls you from your thoughts. “Why?”

“I made a promise to Gan-”

“No, you fulfilled your pledge to the Wizard the moment we made it to the mountain, yet you stayed. Why?” Thorin pulls his chest away from yours and attempts to catch your gaze with his.

“Is this really the time?” You ask.

“When else?” He cocks his head to the side.

“Perhaps after the battle is over?” You fully pull away from him then.

Thorin pauses, perhaps like you, he had briefly forgotten the battle warring on below you in a moment of joy. But he nods to you and walks back toward the lifeless body of your foe. He rips his sword out of the body. He flips Azog onto his back so his lifeless eyes gaze emptily at the sky. Thorin turns to you, “Perhaps you should look away.” he addresses you.

You simply raise an eyebrow at him. He nods and grasps the sword firmly. From one moment to the next Thorin separates Azog’s head from his body. He takes hold of it and walks towards the edge of the frozen lake, which looks out onto the field below.

He lets out a mighty shout and hoists the fallen orc’s head into the air. Shrieks echo from below and the enemy begins to retreat.

You’ve won.

Thorin drops his head and turns to face you, a rare smile graces his face and for the first time since you met him, it truly seems like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders, for at least a moment.

It takes you three seconds to get in front of him, one second to grab ahold of his head, and another to kiss him. Five seconds, five seconds of bravery that you will probably never be able to muster again.

Thorin kisses you back with fervor, gripping you as through he thought you might fade away. Eventually, the need for air separates you.

“That is why I saved you,” you whisper into the space between you, “because a life without you in it is one I do not wish to bear.”

“You’ll never have to.” is his reply before his mouth is on you again. Where the first kiss was full of passion, a burst of adrenaline between two people. This one is slow, like Thorin is savoring the moment like he is trying to memorize what it is like to have you. The moment is bliss, it's everything you wanted and thought you couldn’t have.

And then it is ruined. A sharp whistle and laugh from across the lake separates the two of you once more. You turn and see Fili and Kili, holding each other and worse for wear but alive and smiling which you’ll take as a win.

The boys make their way towards you, Thorin never releases his hold on your waist.

“Is it over?” Fili asks.

‘It is now.” Thorin responds.

“Now what?” Kili pops up. Scanning the area around him.

‘We live.” Is your simple reply. Like Kili, you take a moment to look around you. And you really like what you see.

#plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #x reader #requests open #requests wanted #thorin oneshot #thorin and company #thorin x reader #thorin oakensheild x plus size reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #the hobbit thorin #thorin #thorin oakenshield #botfa au #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #thank you for the request!

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antimatterz · 1 year ago

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Hi! I really like your self aware au, could I request Jing Yuan, Blade and Dan Heng(IL) seeing reader crying over Simulated universe swarm disaster? ( it's kicking me in the ass and I'm stuck at difficult 2 :') )

SIMULATED UNIVERSE: a literal disaster

jing yuan, blade, dan heng (il), gepard x gn!reader

summary: you struggle with the new swarm disaster event while you cleared the rest of honkai: starrail's content with ease, how to they react?

cw: self-aware au, comfort

enyo's note: i combined two requests because they were very similar, i hope that's okay! also this was so relatable, i strongly dislike swarm disaster 💀

her personal taglist: @hiraethsdesires

content under the cut | masterlist

jing yuan

honestly, i can see him being amused at first.

you never really struggle with anything in the game – even the hardest boss battles won't get you and your team down.

so seeing you struggle like that with the new swarm disaster event, that's a rare sight and he just can't help but find your little fit of frustration kind of cute.

but when it gets out of hand, his amusement is quick to fade away. tears form in your eyes when you fail the challenge again and now the general gets worried.

"are you okay, y/n?" he asks as you exit the simulated universe. there is no playfulness in his voice, only worry.

you shake your head. "i don't know what i'm doing wrong."

jing yuan helps you through this tough event to the best of his abilities. he tries a little harder in battle, going past his own limits to get the job done. he gives strategic advice and coordinates the rest of your team alongside you, like a true general.

to him, it doesn't matter whether you win or lose, he's proud of you for not giving up immediately. he's there to catch you after another defeat and celebrates with you when you finally clear a new difficulty level!

blade

he definitely shares your frustration.

not a part of him is entertained by your struggles. if any, he's just as upset as you are. when the two of you work together, nothing ever goes wrong. then why can't you get past the swarm boss?

but even now, his soft spot for you resurfaces when you tear up in sheer frustration. another defeat. another failure. you just want to give up. to shut down your device and punch a wall. although blade is more than ready to commit a sin as well, he tries to keep his cool for you.

"let's try again," he growls, tightly gripping his blade. "i'll bring those bugs their demise."

every time you want to quit, he convinces you to go on, and blade keeps pushing his boundaries just to get you through another level.

defeat only fuels his fire, and he won't rest (and won't let you rest) until you clear another difficulty.

because he does everything for you.

dan heng (+ imbibitor lunae)

as a nameless in his human form he already tries his hardest for you. he knows you are frustrated and so is he, limited by the aforementioned human form.

he doesn't really show it, he doesn't complain. he just stays quiet and does his very best, urging you to move through the various panes with a silent nod.

dan heng hates seeing you struggle, especially since he knows you got through the game's previous content without issues. he's also quite confused, why is this so difficult?

okay, at some point you start noticing his frustration too, as he grows a little reckless during fights. there's anger in his usually solemn gaze as he goes on.

yet, regardless of his own frustration, he still consoles you after every defeat, pretending to be confident in winning at some point even though he isn't confident at all.

so when he gains access to his vidyadhara form, unlocking a newfound strength, he goes all in again, just for you – with newfound hope.

it actually goes better now, but as you reach the swarm it proves to be quite difficult still. but he convinces you to not give up, no matter how many attempts it takes.

when you finally clear a new difficulty level, you might even catch a faint smile. "you did well, y/n."

gepard landau

the captain of the silvermane guards always gets you through whatever the game throws at you. with his strong defensive abilities, he keeps your team shielded and alive in the hardest circumstances.

so he's slightly caught off-guard when your team keeps dying in the new event.

while he writes it off as an unfortunate coincidence after the first few defeats, he seriously starts doubting his capabilities when your team dies again. he doesn't show it but he's secretly afraid that you're disappointed in him for not keeping the team alive.

but his will never falters and every time you try again, he too tries harder and harder. even when you get so frustrated that you're about to tear up, he motivates you to go at it regardless because he wants to make it up to you.

"we got this, y/n," he speaks resolutely.

'giving up' isn't in his vocabulary, so he too pushes his own limits. but it pays off, because you make it past the swarm boss at some point and clear the difficulty level you had deemed impossible.

gepard is so relieved that he prove his worth again; he got you and your team through a difficult challenge, successfully fulfilling his duty.

he's proud of you, and please tell him you're proud of him as well!!

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lavender-jukebox · 1 year ago

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How about parental decepticon stuff? I like the episodes where Tarantulas and Starscream end up as mentor figures

I love this idea...I hope I did it right-

Characters are Starscream, Soundwave, Tarantulas, Shockwave, Breakdown

(Reader is human btw-)

Enjoy!

Starscream

Will gladly answer any questions you have about himself or about the history of Cybertron

He's protective of you weither you're bot or human.

he'll take you for flights in his cockpit when you've had a bad day and let's you vent whatever you need to.

He tries his best to be a role model for you but thinks because he was a decepticon he isn't good at it

You two have deep talks about the past and listen to eachother

Seems like he doesn't care for platonic cuddles but actually loves them

Likes to praise you for things you've done

Gives headpats

If you ever do anything that could involve you getting hurt, get ready for a stern lecture and a shit tone of scolds when you explain your reasoning

He just wants you to be safe and happy :)

Soundwave

Probably the most parental decepticon out of them all

NEVER let's you out of his sight and insists you either stay beside him or sit on his shoulder

Gets a little worried if you and Frenzy ever rough house (cause you is a fleshie)

If you wanted, he would teach you how to hack

Has unlimited patience and you test this. All the damn time.

He always knows when's somethings up, but won't force you to tell him if you don't want to

If you want any affection he'll give it to you

VERY PROTECTIVE and will kick someone's ass if they lay a atom on you

He can be stern in more serious situations but doesn't intend to make you upset

If you're ever hurt he goes into mom mode and patches your injuries no matter what size

Likes it when you sit on his shoulder and blabber nonsense. He's all ears to hear what you have to say, no matter how stupid it seems

Tarantulas

Questions himself how he "adopted" a human but goes with it

Always keeps you within a distance where he can pluck you up if he senses danger

If you're energetic he'll let you climb and swing from his extra limbs

Some days you can convince him to play hide and seek

If he sense someone coming, he has a tiny burrow hole your size and hides you in there

A little paranoid if you leave the lab that G.H.O.S.T might find you so you have a little living space

Likes to poke you with his extra legs to make you giggle

Will teach you new things and walk you through whatever inventions he's making

Is happy if you offer to help him

More than happy to comfort you in a situation and has many limbs to hug you better

Shockwave

He's like the strict dad who has eyes on the back of his head

Ironic for someone with only one eye but-

When you try and sneak out the lab or go for a walk, he'll ask where you're going or what you're doing without even turning

If you give him sass, he'll sass you back and you guys have a lot of playful bickers

Basically "home schools" you but not really

Just teaches you something new every day

Seems like he hates affection but will hold you in his hand or let you fall asleep on him as he works in the lab

Listens to every word you say and gives suggestions to help

You stump him all the time with shower thoughts

He makes sure you're healthy and makes you drink 8 cups of water a day as well as eating meals

Does not take no for an answer

Doesn't matter if you're 10 or a grown ass adult, he'll put you in a corner for time out

Oh he knows you're too old he just does it cause he's petty like that

Breakdown

Not the best influence but definitely one of the more fun ones

He'll take you on energon runs as he explains to you not to turn out like him

Takes you to an empty street or raceway to absolutely speed

He cracks dad jokes all the time.

If you have a bad day he'll try to make you laugh by jokes or something

He's protective of you to the point where when he knows the littlest thing of G.H.O.S.T in the area, yall are gone

Teaches you how to fight in case of an event where he cannot be there for you

Doesn't mind carrying you or letting you sit on his shoulder

He might be a douche sometimes and moves the shoulder you're on to catch you off guard

Laughs when you swear

I wouldn't say he's like a parent but more so a parent / big brother type of guy

=========================

#earthspark #tf earthspark #transformers earthspark #starscream #starscream x reader #earthspark starscream #soundwave #soundwave x reader #earthspark soundwave #tarantulas #tarantulas x reader #earthspark tarantulas #shockwave #shockwave x reader #earthspark shockwave #breakdown #breakdown x reader #earthspark breakdown

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mintkookiess · 1 year ago

Text

It's you?!

A/N: Craving more 42!Miles screen time. Better yet, I want him to have an entire goddamn film.

Another post from the private vault! hope y'all like this one as much as I did! (｡･･｡)

Love,

Mint

Summary: 42!Miles and his weird ass obsession on finding out Spiderwoman!reader's real identity (and vice versa, but less obsessive LMAO she just curious)

Tags: 42!Miles x Spiderwoman!reader, some cussing, choking (not that kind) enemies -> friends

Word count: 2.3k

The Prowler had a sick grin behind his mask as he stared at the woman standing a few feet away from him. It was almost laughable to him how she could stand for all the heroic shit, even her suit looked downright ridiculous. “You’re a brave one to try to stop me, I’ll give you that.” He laughed with his voice slightly distorted from the voice changer. “But I hate to break it to you ma, I’m going to remind you where you belong, to make you remember your fucking place.”

Though deep down he knew that he always looked forward to their fights and banters. Sure, he’s handled a bunch of big enemies and may have been beaten to a pulp once or twice, but nothing makes him feel more alive than fighting the one and only Spiderwoman. Little does he know that he’s slowly garnering some sort of obsession over finding out who she was.

He was itching to know what kind of person this woman was who had the actual capabilities of making him excited and thrilled over fighting, something he grew to hate.

"Yeah, I will. Since my place will always be above you." Y/n replied coolly behind her mask. As Spiderwoman, she is obligated to eradicate all evils in Brooklyn, but this Prowler dude always made it interesting for her. And today was just like their usual encounters.

Sometimes, she admits that she wants to know who he was beneath all that tacky suit. Like why does he look like fucking Dracula?

I hate that fucking mask. Miles thought as he scowls down at the hero. All he wanted was to rip the mask off of her head and finally see her face. He couldn't exactly understand his undying obsession with finding out. Like, why her of all heroes?

He growled in frustration with himself, clawed out his hand, and lunged at Y/n, ready to rip her apart. In response to this however, Y/n was quick enough to instantly shoot a web by a nearby building on their right, flinging herself towards it to dodge him. "Is that the best you got pretty boy?" She called out.

"Pretty boy?" Miles raised an eyebrow behind his mask. He snarled, jumping off the ground to thrust towards her once more, this time using full force to try to pin her against the wall. He does this successfully, picking Y/n up by her throat. "Who are you?" Miles hissed, his claws retracting before digging his metal-covered fingers into her neck more. "Tell me, damn it."

Y/n kept her body calm and tried to maintain proper breathing despite being choked by him. "Spiderwoman, who else would I be?" She choked, her mind trying to find the best way possible to escape from his deadly grasp.

"That's not what I meant," Miles glared, squeezing even tighter than before. His golden brown eyes slowly became wild in anger, almost as if something's taken over him.

"Answer me properly, pretty girl," He seethed, his mask glitching slightly. Though he called her "pretty girl", he did so in such a mocking tone.

Miles dropped her to the ground but doesn't waste a second before pinning her against the wall with his arm over her head. With his height, he just easily towers over her.

The sight egged him on, the feeling of having Spider-Woman beneath him like this was exhilarating.

"Who. Are. You."

"Someone who's... about to kick your goddamn ass." She murmured before her leg flew up to his arm, and with every force she could muster she kicked it down, making him lose balance.

She shoots another web to the building on the opposite side, keeping a fair distance from the Prowler. "Why do you want to know me so badly?" She called out to him.

"Because I want to know my enemy,” Miles yelled back, letting out a low growl as he rose to his feet and sped across to her once more. He lands back close to her, glaring at her with a slightly amused look. It's just a game to him after all. A game of cat and mouse and he was definitely not the mouse.

"I'll stop at nothing until I found out who you are," He gritted through his teeth. "You won't get away that easily ma."

Y/n only snorted at his words. "Oh yeah? I think I do a pretty great job at doing that pretty boy." She smirked behind her mask before instantly swinging away, leaving him.

But of course, Miles wasn't backing down, quickly chasing after her. "Who the fuck are you?!" He yelled loudly, but she doesn't answer. They both played chase across multiple buildings. Miles was determined not to lose her this time though, picking up his speed until he was practically at the same speed as her.

This must be his new world record, Uncle Aaron would be damn proud.

"I won't stop chasing you until I know." Y/n rolled her eyes at how persistent he was being. Miles wants to know who this hero was, and why she drove him insane with obsession, or how she got him looking forward to fighting her.

"Well for starters, why the hell are you so obsessed with me? Honestly, don't you have better things to do?!" She called out as she continuously swung between buildings by her webs. Least to say though, Y/n was impressed that the Prowler could catch up at all. But then again, when has he ever failed to impress her?

"It's not an obsession," Miles denied, following close behind her. Even Y/n knew that wasn't the truth.

Miles is a villain. He kills. He maims. He hurts whomever he wants. But with her? Something just felt different. She's special, nothing like the rest of them. She has something he can't quite explain. Some sort of magnet that keeps him wanting to see her often? To fight her more than he does with the usual people he dealt with?

"Why do you keep running away ma?" He asked nonchalantly, but Miles knew he was just trying to keep her under his grasp for a bit longer. "You can fight. Why run?"

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Then let's fight pretty boy." She swung back around towards him, landing her foot on his torso, kicking him hard across the concrete before landing flawlessly on the ground.

Miles grunts loudly and stumbles back, hitting a beaten-up car behind him. He looks up at her, glaring. "That's more like it ma," He leered, the sun creating shadows on his face, making him look even more intimidating.

He grunted as he stood up, getting close to her once again until he was merely inches away from her face. "You must tell me. You can't keep it from me." Miles grunted. His eyes were wild and insane as if he's lost control of... whatever he was feeling towards this Spiderwoman.

"If I told you who I was, that defeats the entire anonymous persona thing I've got going." Y/n chuckled, placing a hand on her hip. Though she admits, she was also quite eager to know who Prowler was. Oh hell no, just curious.

"Tell me already!" Miles almost yelled, balling his hands into fists. He's getting angrier by the minute. At who exactly? He wasn't sure. Maybe he was mad at her because she was being stubborn, or mad at his behavior and the way he was acting right now.

But Miles doesn't care. He only cares about the fact that he's not getting the information he wants.

He just wants to know who she was so badly so he could finally get over this achingly overwhelming curiosity.

"Tell me," Miles glowered once more, his voice dark and raspy. "I won't ask again."

"You're asking me to tell my arch nemesis who I am behind this mask. You do realize how insane you sound right?" Y/n snickered. But suddenly, she was stricken with an idea. She quickly looked around, making sure no one was around them in the abandoned part of Brooklyn.

For once, she wanted to indulge in her curiosities as Spiderwoman. She grinned at him, even though he couldn't see it. "If you show me who you are, I'll show you who I am. Seems only fair right?"

"Fine," Miles grunted, uncurling his fists. He was a bit surprised at how easy it was for him to agree, despite knowing full well he shouldn't show who he was much less to the person who's been hunting him down for months.

"Show me first. Then I'll let you know who I am." His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he meets her stare. "After all, it is only fair ma."

Y/n laughed, nodding in agreement. "Fine, if we're playing fair, then we should just do it together at the same time."

Prowler let out a harsh breath and nodded.

"On the count of three,” Y/n said, her finger gripping the edge of her mask.

"1..."

"2..."

"3...!"

As Y/n pulled out her mask, the Prowler does the same, his Prowler mask moving back to reveal himself as Miles Morales.

Y/n's hair fell down, her e/c eyes striking with excitement as she stared back into his. Her lips instantly curved into a smile as she sees an all-too-familiar face before her. "You're that student from school!"

Miles blinked. "What—" He stopped himself mid-sentence as it finally hits him. It's her. It's always been her.

His eyes flash with shock, pupils widening to the point where his eyes almost appeared black. The woman that he's been obsessing over, was Y/n. Y/n L/n.

Miles would see her often in class and everywhere else on campus. He has never spoken a word to her, but she slightly grabbed his attention because she was the complete opposite of him. That and because she was obnoxiously loud.

He simply knew her as that friendly, too-nice, pure girl. Definitely did not assume that she'd be Spider-Woman.

"You're that quiet dude from physics and math class!" Y/n gushed even further. "I wasn't expecting it to be you but, that makes so much sense with your mysterious aura and vibe, holy shit."

Y/n was internally screaming inside because she did notice Miles Morales from her school. She thought he was crazy attractive with the stoic and cold demeanor he had going on, especially those goddamn braids of his.

And now here she was, finding out that he was in fact, the Prowler whom she's been fighting for months on end.

"Y/n..." Miles breathed out. As he processed the woman before him, he started to think about how she was beautiful, far more than he could've ever imagined. He barely looks at her at school, but now he's finally got a good look.

Her smile sent unexpected fluttering to his heart and it was difficult for him to look away. He had to snap himself out of it. Y/n isn't just Y/n. She's Spider-Woman. Who knows of his identity.

Miles licked his lips forgetting all of that in a second. His eyes were still wild but now supported by a little glint. A spark perhaps. Somehow, seeing Y/n and realizing she's Spider-Woman made him feel weird. Good weird. But weird.

"Well, what do you think? Overwhelmed? Underwhelmed? Rate the experience from 1 to 10, be honest." Y/n smirked, her eyebrows raised and arms crossed over her Spider-Woman suit.

"You fucking weirdo,” Miles smirked.

"Would you look at that, the infamous Miles Morales actually knows how to smile,” Y/n replied, clearly amused.

She was definitely not screaming inside.

"What can I say ma?" He replied with a smirk, "You bring out the best in me." He found himself teasing her. How interesting.

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes at him. "Ha ha, I wasn't expecting the Prowler to be this cheesy either."

"I wasn't expecting Spider-Woman to be this beautiful either, so I guess we're both in quite a predicament,” Miles said with a slightly flirty tone. The situation was becoming less tense and more playful between them.

It was as if Miles had become a different person, being less like the ruthless villain Prowler, and more like himself as Miles Morales. It's a refreshing feeling to him.

"Well thank you, does that mean you've always noticed me from school?" Y/n smiled, placing her hands on her back, and swayed side to side like a child.

"I noticed you alright.” He chuckled. Miles was still in disbelief with himself since he never showed such emotion to anyone. Ever. But here he was laying himself out to this girl who he barely even knows.

"I thought about talking to you. Usually to tell you to shut up cause you're always so damn loud." He told her. "But then I got too much shit on my mind. You know what it's like as the Prowler."

Y/n simply nodded, "That's fair. I myself am pretty busy cause well... I am Spiderwoman, constantly thinking of how to save the city." She winked.

"You're busy as Spider-Woman," Miles repeated. "And I'm busy as the Prowler." He grinned at her. "We have that in common, don't we?"

"Except for the fact that we are destined to be enemies." Y/n grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. "But you know, maybe we can be friends."

Her? Being friends with him? What is she even saying... as if he'd actually agree—

Miles cocked an eyebrow. "Friends huh? Maybe we should try it sometime." He grinned, but he stopped himself, almost as if what he said wasn't meant to be said at all. He cleared his throat, "Well, we aren't enemies right now, are we?"

Y/n contemplated for a while, "Hmm... Maybe enemies as Spider-Woman and the Prowler, but we can be friends as Y/n and Miles." She winked, holding out her hand for him to shake.

Without a second thought, Miles grabbed her hand and shook it firmly. "Deal." He replied with a smirk. "Friends." And he's serious about it too. All they both thought of at the moment was,

Damn, this is going to be one interesting pair.

Fin.

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfic #42!Miles Morales x reader #Miles G Morales #Earth 42!Miles #enemies to friends #Miles Morales #across the spiderverse #miles morales x y/n

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wardenparker · 10 months ago

Text

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______

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

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers

My Masterlist!

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

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traveler-at-heart · 2 years ago

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Shopping

Summary: Natasha hates shopping, but an incident might change her mind.

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Who knew saving the world was so much work.

Specifically, paperwork.

Thor, unfamiliar with Earth’s customs and the bureaucracy of any organization, always had trouble filing his reports. You volunteered to spare him of endless hours sitting in front of a computer and to save Steve the frustration of trying to figure what the god meant when he wrote things like “the screams of our victims can be heard from Hell”

Only, you had been at it for almost three hours now. You stretch, feeling your back muscles strained.

Time for a snack break.

Which you were doing, eating cereal and browsing through some emails. There’s a sale at your favorite store. Maybe, if you find the right outfit, you’ll agree to that blind date Tony’s been nagging you about.

The day seems to be getting better, until Sam rushes past you, mumbling.

“Run, hide, anything”

“What?” you say, mouth full of cereal. He’s already gone. Five seconds later, Natasha storms in. “Oh, hey, Nat”

She glares and you gulp down the rest of your food. Against your better judgment, you smile again and ask her if she wants to go shopping. You can’t stop talking, she makes you that nervous.

“I hate shopping”

You already know it and she tells you for good measure, before rolling her eyes and leaving the kitchen.

Right.

“Bucky, she’s alive,” Sam whispers as you walk back to your room.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She was pissed. Had an argument with Tony” Bucky barely opens his door.

“They always do”

“Romanoff looked ready to kill him”

“She always does. And why are you hiding behind the door?” you look at Bucky.

“He ate all of Romanoff’s angry cookies” Sam replies.

“Terrible timing”

“Yeah” Bucky sighs, peaking around to see if Natasha is coming to kick his ass. Frankly, you wouldn’t stop her.

“Well, if you’re done gossiping, I have a shower to take”

“Where you going?”

“Shopping” you immediately shut down Sam’s curious tone. These boys are so nosy.

“Can I come?”

“Absolutely not. You always flirt with the girls and I can never get them to help me out”

“Oh, come on”

“Knock it off or I’m telling Nat you ate those cookies”

“No!” he sprints down to his room, while Bucky shuts the door so fast, you swear the wood cracks.

Ugh, it’s like living with teenagers. Thankfully, you have a plan. As you suspect, Natasha is going around the kitchen cabinets, mumbling something about “killing Barnes”

“Hey” you don’t expect her to respond or turn around, so you just place the package on the counter. “I know those man babies eat everything on sight, so I always have some saved in my room. Your favorites”

Natasha stops her movements, but still won’t turn around.

“Thanks” she finally says as you walk back to your room.

You wish it was enough to make her feel better. You also wish she trusted you enough to vent about what it is she’s so upset about.

But with Natasha, there’s always been a wall. You don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, because you find her so attractive, endearing and even cute.

If you get close, then you’re sure it’s going to evolve from slight crush to full time pining.

That can’t happen.

These thoughts take up most of your shower time and as you get ready to leave, you only turn around once to check your hair.

There’s a surprise waiting for you at the garage. Someone sitting on the driver’s seat of your car.

Natasha looks up and smirks.

“I don’t let anyone else drive”

“Mind you, I’m more worried about how you broke into my car without the alarm blaring” you tsk as she takes the keys from your hand.

She shrugs her shoulders and to your surprise, guesses which mall you’re heading to.

“I notice things too”

“You’re talking about those cookies?”

“I guess”

“Well, you’re always welcome to get them from my room. Secret cabinet behind the mirror”

“Nice”

You chuckle and she actually looks like her mood is improving.

And you… you are approaching the pining stage at an alarming rate.

“So, what are you looking for?” she asks when you finally get to your favorite clothing store. Natasha looks completely out of place between the lighting and the bland pop music playing in the background.

When she turns around, she finds you putting some lingerie sets over your clothed body, evaluating the shape and color.

She’s thankful you’re too focused on your own reflection to catch her blushing madly. Now is not the best time to picture you wearing one of those sets.

“Oh, maybe something to go on a date” you reply, choosing the black lingerie.

That answer is enough to put her in a bad mood again.

After a few minutes looking around, you sense that she’s starting to get impatient. Natasha shrugs her shoulders at every dress you show her. You might as well be holding a hot dog suit to get her approval.

“Alright, I’m going to the dressing room. Hold this” you give her your purse, to guarantee she won’t flee the minute you close the door.

“Don’t be long” she mumbles when you’ve barely taken your top off. Without thinking much about it, you peak through the door and smile mischievously.

“Relax. If you’re a good girl I’ll get you something nice”

The redhead blushes furiously as you close the door again. You think it’s pointless to show her the dress, thinking she’ll just shrug and make a non committal hum.

You’re on dress number three and think it’s the best one yet.

“Shit” your smile is quickly replaced by a frown when you realize the zipper on the back is stuck. “Nat” you call frantically for her.

“What?”

“I’m stuck”

“What…?”

“Come here” you jump out of the dressing room and pull her inside, shutting the door behind you. “The zipper. Can you pull it down?”

“Y-yes”

“Ok, go” you move your wavy hair out of the way, expecting it to be over with one swift motion.

But Natasha’s touch is surprisingly soft and delicate. You feel her breath close to your neck. Fuck.

“Fuck” Natasha says and you snap back.

“What is it?”

“It’s really stuck” she sits on the little chair at the corner of the room and pulls you along. As she keeps trying to undo the zipper, your body gives in, sitting almost on her lap, your back to her front.

“Almost… there” she grunts, pulling so hard that you end up actually sitting on her lap, squealing at the force of her movements. “Sorry, sorry, I got you”

“I thought I was gonna die” you sigh, not moving away from arms that are circling your waist.

“Trained spy is scared of a little fabric?”

“Jerk” you stand up, but the dress is halfway down, limiting your movements. It falls completely to the ground, you stumble and turn, landing once again on Natasha’s lap, this time face to face.

Or rather… Breasts to face. She has her entire face on your lingerie clad breasts.

“Jesus, Nat, I’m sooo sorry…” your apology dies down when you feel strong arms pulling you closer. You look down and find emerald eyes, pupils dilated with lust and lips parted, waiting for permission to move forward.

There’s not much else to think about, so you place your hands on either side of her face and kiss her, desperate and fast. Natasha moans against your mouth, moving down to your neck and sucking until she leaves a mark. Her expert fingers are trying to unclasp your bra when...

“Everything ok in there?” a store clerk asks. You break apart, feeling frustrated and very much turned on.

“Yeah, I’m almost done here!” you shout, a little too out of breath.

“I think your friend left. She really hates shopping, huh?”

“Oh, I think I’ve managed to change her mind” you wink at Natasha before putting your clothes back on.

“Stop” Natasha says as you head back to the Compound, one hand on the wheel and the other hovering above your leg.

“I’m not…!”

“You’re staring”

“You’re a really good kisser”

The redhead blushes and you think you’re in love.

No turning back now.

“So… when’s your date?”

“I don’t know, when are you free?”

“But I thought...”

“Tony was insisting on setting me up. That was before I knew my not-so-secret crush wanted to have her way with me in a dressing room”

For the first time ever, Natasha is speechless and you laugh.

“So how about tomorrow?” she finally asks as she parks your car.

“That works for me” you walk side by side and then smile. “See? Aren’t you glad you went shopping with me today? You got to pick the clothes you’ll rip off of me”

Natasha stops walking, and she’s actually considering just taking you up to her room right now.

“Tomorrow” you promise, smiling as you peck her lips.

“Hey”

“Yes, Sam?” you still have a silly smile, walking back to your room.

“I just saw Natasha and she smiled at me. Do you think she’s ok?”

“Yes, Sam” you roll your eyes, but he keeps staring. “What?”

“What’s that thing on your neck?”

Fuck. You slap your hand over the hickey and rush to your room.

“None of your business”

“As long as you keep her happy!”

“Shut up, Wilson”

#Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n

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chansbabygirlsstuff · 9 months ago

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Just a bet | Chapter 4

Paring:!badboyChanx!reader

Your POV

As I get out of the car, I can see the flashing colored lights that blind my sight as I wait for Chan to get out of the car I nervously stare at the people outside and inside the house, the sliding glass doors that let the visibility of everyone outside see what's going on inside.

"Are you ready?" he tells me next to some excited to get the party going "Yeah" I try to sound as excited as him.

We go inside the house, the atmosphere is hot, with bodies pressing along each other, dirty dancing on the floor, sloppy kisses in a corner, and alcohol by the door.

trying to squeeze through the crowd was a challenge as Chan took me to meet his friends, yeah, his friends, we'll see how that goes.

"what's up," Chan shouted trying to make a conversation with the boys over the loud music

"This is y/n everyone!" he presented me to his group of friends

everyone greeted you in a friendly way

"hey I'm Felix" he made his way to your hand in a friendly way "Hi Felix I'm Y/n"

"yeah we've heard of you," a boy with a cute smile said "Oh my name is I.N btw"

you bowed a little to greet him.

As everyone greeted you, you looked everywhere trying to get used to the ambiance around you

"Well, I'm going to get myself something to drink. do you want something?" he asked me shouting near my ear because of the loud music "Yeah sure," I said shyly as I felt him close to me he left me with his friends to enter the kitchen I felt the music get louder and people started jumping and dancing to the song, but I felt a grip my hip and sway me to the music and his hand guided lower to my leg centering in my lower body more and more so I turn around but encounter a random guy, the guy that was trying to dance with me!! my eyes widen and I slapped him in the face and left as I heard him scream "What the Fuck you bitch?" and run to the kitchen as I was passing by someone blew a cloud of smoke on my face, I coughed violently "What the fuck dude?!" I look back as he looks high as hell and smirks at me, I roll my eyes and look for Chan all over the big kitchen and see him leaning against a counter talking to a girl who is all over him touching his chest and almost putting her leg on top of him.

I stare at him but his eyes find mine and he straightens his pose trying to get to me, but I leave and try to find the door, I find Changbin grinding with a girl and getting in my way, Felix sees me and stops me "what happened where are you going?" he tells me with a concerned face "nothing I just need some air" I said trying to pass me but he stopped me again. "ok you can come to me and tell me if anything happens" he smiles to me reassuringly. I swear he is too nice to be with these shitholes.

As I get out of the place I call my sister but I don't get enough signal as I walk further away from the house, I kick a rock out of frustration and try to call my sister again but nothing, I hate my fucking life, as I'm walking downhill to get to the city and call cab I feel chill as is very cold outside and I didn't bring warm clothes.

I fucking hate that he lied to me, he said he was going to stay all night with me but no, he went with another chick to flirt or make out!, but why am I even bothered considering that I know his reputation from people who told me all around school?

I seriously need help and stop reading those fake ass books that only get me to illusion myself to think he was being nice to me for a reason... or two... but that's not the case, I need to learn that what goes through my mind is not real, only the books can have that delusion written all over it.

I also feel scared as that weird man touched me like that, it was so inappropriate and I feel disgusting because of it, doesn't he know what respect is? I feel so uncomfortable for letting myself go into an ambiance that I know is not my safe zone, I feel guilty as I felt someone touch my body that way even if I didn't want to, While in my thoughts my tears escape my eyes as I'm sobbing, how stupid am I?

I huff as the night gets colder and scarier as there is no source of light in this street, it gets creepier and alone but see a car turn and start following me behind, but the blinding lights of it don't let me see who it is, so I start walking faster, the creeps running through my spine and the hairs of my skin rise against my leather jacket. but the car reaches my steps and stands next to me as I see it roll down the window

"Why did you go?" oh... it's Christopher

"Nothing I'm fine, you can go back if you want" I do not look at him as I know my eyes must be red from crying and continue walking.

"no I promised you I would be with you" he continued the car at my pace

"well I didn't see anything of that happening" I walked faster as I didn't want to see him but his car followed next to me "I'm sorry okay?" he stopped the car and got out of it and ran to me

He grabs my shoulders as he stands right in front of me "Let's just get inside the car and talk about it yeah?" he tries to persuade me to get in the car, and I do.

"why'd you leave" he says as I try to put my seatbelt on

"well I didn't see you so I thought you left" I lie

"but you saw in the kitchen tho," he says the truth like an idiot

"yeah but I saw you were busy so I thought you wouldn't spend time with me at the party," I said looking down feeling like a child who is about to get scolded

"no love I promised you I would be there and yes I apologized because I left and talked to someone else, but my intention never was to leave you alone," he says looking at me but my head held low "But you did" I mumbled, he sighed "I'm sorry ok?" he expresses himself by putting his hand on my thigh and then on his chest "I promise to never do that again, that was very low of me" I looked at him while he looked at me, fucking butterflies why now, I feel the heat hit my ears and cheeks, I need to get a hold of myself

"but even when you saw you should've talked to me," he said starting the car once dating and driving, "yeah but either way I was uncomfortable," I said as I checked if my makeup was ruined on the car's mirror.

"why love did someone do something to you?" he said caringly

"Yeah, a guy... you know" I stopped as I felt my eyes get watery "he touched me inappropriately"

"He touched you" he exclaimed as he was surprised by my answer

"Yeah I was very scared," I said cleaning my tears

"Did you do something about it? you should have called me or one of the guys" he raises his voice in anger

"I'm sorry" I apologize and he changes his mood

"I'm not mad at you love, I'm mad at that bastard, he can't be treating ladies like you like that," he said looking at the road a bit mad "And don't cry ok? You're at least safe, you with me now" he smiles and caresses my shoulder, fucking butterflies again, am I that touched deprived or is he just too touchy to have talked a week ago?

"how about if we go do something you like?" he says and I nod

"what do you like to do at night" his sweet and caring smile looks at me as I look out the window of shyness

"I like to walk at night and eat some ice cream, I like quiet places" I express my liking to him as he pays attention to me

"ok so let us go to the park and eat some ice cream," he says enthusiastically

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

Hi my lovelies

Here is the 4th chapter sorry for being late I promise to post another one soon!

taglist: @stayceebs97 @foivestarrsketchez @salfetkablog

the tag list is open lovelies so plz comment if you want to be added

#bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan angst #chan smut #changbin smut #hyunjin smut #skz angst #skz smut

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theficpusher · 2 months ago

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A Change In Momentum by kingsofeverything | G | 666 Louis tries to surprise Harry by carving pumpkins by himself.

perfect pumpkins by shiptattou | G | 666 Harry decides a pumpkin carving 'contest' is the best way to tell Louis.

Made Just For Me by casuallyhl | nr | 2227 “What the fuck are you doing?” From where he’s sitting on the floor, Harry chooses not to answer. Instead, he continues laying out old newspapers around him. He layers them so they completely cover the carpet, leaving no space for anything to stain. “Harry,” Louis’ voice comes again. “What are you doing?” “I’m getting ready to carve a pumpkin,” Harry replies simply, still not looking at Louis. “But…why?” Or, Harry and Louis carve a pumpkin.

squash! goes my heart by sarcangel | T | 3331 Niall just laughs and ruffles Freddie’s hair, and says, “Maybe next time, buddy,” in a way that shuts Louis up, because suddenly all he can see is years of Octobers, years of them, Freddie getting taller and Niall planting seeds on his stupid back porch like the stubborn-arsed Irishman he is, and all right.

May The Gourds Be With You by BayouSexual | nr | 3496 “Next time you want to go on a road trip to the middle of nowhere, I’m saying no. ASDA has plenty of pumpkins.” Louis says darkly. Harry shoves his phone back in his pocket, “Just start the car like I said and we can see if we can get back the way we came.” Louis turns the key slowly and isn’t even surprised when nothing happens. He just sighs, “God hates us.” ____________ Or that one fic with where Harry can't read maps, and Louis hates pumpkins.

You're The Pumpkin Of My Eye by rockstarlwt28 | G | 4122 Harry and Louis go on a seasonal date, that is sweeter than the confectionery in a trick or treat bucket. It’s filled with sweet snuggles, cute kisses and pumpkin picking.

You Are the Moon That Breaks the Night by supernope | T | 4168 Harry doesn’t realize he’s been squeezing Louis’ hand until Louis nudges him in the hip and laughs, “They’re just pumpkins, Harry, calm down. Let’s go have a look.” Harry lets Louis drag him off toward the closest pile of decorative gourds, then tugs him down into a crouch so they can begin to search through them all. He wants carving pumpkins, but he also wants little ones for decoration and a couple of ripe ones to bake with. Louis does not understand the art of selecting a pumpkin, Harry discovers, and he has to give him a hands-on tutorial that involves way too much touching for such a public, kid-friendly place. Harry wants so many pumpkins that they end up making it into a contest to see who can choose the best ones, both drifting from pumpkin pile to hay bale, turning pumpkins over and pressing on the bottoms like they’re pumpkin experts.

make this feel like home | G | 4362 He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be graced with a sight cuter than his boyfriend standing in the middle of a pumpkin patch in October, holding the pumpkin version of him against his hip. Harry wants to be the one held up against Louis’ waist. Not a silly pumpkin. “Gonna the return the favor or what, curly?” Louis motions to the cute little stocky half of the orange dream team behind him and winks. “I’m a good enough pumpkin for you, aren’t it?” [harry and louis are 17 and besotted, feat. halloween]

put your dukes up, baby put your dukes up by aniloquent | nr | 5075 “I’m going to kick your ass at this pumpkin carving contest, Curly,” Louis prophesizes, standing to his feet. Louis feels the pumpkin yanked from his grip. “Lovely,” the stranger drawls, smirking down at Louis. “I’ll use this pumpkin to do so. C’mon, Li.” Louis glares holes into the duo’s back as they retreat to the other end of the patch. Louis snatches a random pumpkin from the ground, muttering curses about boot-loving fucks when he hear the stranger call for him again. “By the way, pumpkins are fruits, emphasizing the word ‘vegetable’ doesn’t make it anymore of one. Look it up.”

#pumpkins #A Change In Momentum #kingsofeverything #perfect pumpkins #shiptattou #Made Just For Me #casuallyhl #squash! goes my heart #sarcangel #May The Gourds Be With You #BayouSexual #You're The Pumpkin Of My Eye #rockstarlwt28 #You Are the Moon That Breaks the Night #supernope #make this feel like home #put your dukes up baby put your dukes up #aniloquent

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skycas1noregular · 2 months ago

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Kinktober 3rd: Fyolai (Bondage)

(🔞NSFW)

I headcanon Nikolai to be damn good at bondage. Why? I have no idea, but it fits him. And, of course, who would he rather tie up than his dear Fedya (frog tie, of course)?

“And the next one!” Nikolai grinned for a split second, then his smile vanished, and he lightly frowned, once again in concentration. He tied the same knots and copied the same style on the left leg. That took him about two or so minutes. Skilled indeed, considering that he learned it not even an hour ago.

“I can still close my legs,” Fyodor informed and tried to do so, but Nikolai’s grip stopped him.

“You think it’s done?” Nikolai smirked, took two smaller ropes, and began tying one end to the ropes over his legs and another to the hands that were in that painful position behind his head. In an instant, Fyodor reacted and tried kicking Nikolai in the hope he wouldn’t be put in the position that brings way too much pleasure to his liking. He hated it. Hated the fact that it could get him to moan out. That’s the last thing he needed.

What he wasn’t aware of, but should have been, was that his kicks did absolutely nothing. His legs couldn’t even move because of the ropes. He couldn’t do a thing.

Nikolai flashed him a smile and simply continued doing what he planned from the very start. In no time, Fyodor’s legs were bent so that his ass was literally on display. Nikolai didn’t keep back from teasing, “Howd’ya feelin’, Fedya?”

Exposed. That is how Fyodor would describe how he felt in this awful position. Vulnerable. Another feeling that he can’t voice, same as any other. That got him to answer with a simple, “Fuck off.”

“I don’t think I will,” Nikolai grinned and guided his hand under Fyodor’s shirt, just to expose him even more and enjoy the sight before him – his Fedya tied up nice and tight. After a few flickers of nipples and quiet whimpers accompanying them, his hand slid down Fyodor’s body, avoiding the cock and going straight to his ass, only to tug the butt plug and drain more sounds from Fyodor. That tactic indeed worked, got Fyodor to moan, but Nikolai didn’t have much time – in other words, didn’t want to wait to finally bury his cock in Fyodor – so he simply pulled it out, getting a sigh of relief.

Without further ado, he slid his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, took the lube, and lubed it up, ready for the real deal he has been waiting for five days, “Usually, I would order you not to move, but I don’t think there’s a need for that, considering that you can’t move a single inch. So, hold tight and enjoy.

Whole work posted on my AO3:

#fyolai smut #fyolai #bsd smut #bsd fyodor #bsd nikolai #bsd #bsd fanfic #bungou sd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs

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andtheyreonfire · 1 year ago

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all to make you mine

ao3

WC: 4,500

AN: yo why's there a little guy in my coffee wtf

Ren’s grappling hook misfires, throwing him into freefall.

He jolts, twists, flailing just for a second. It’s odd: every time he falls, the borrower’s reminded of the cartoons Ryuji shows him. If he doesn’t look down, he won’t fall. His stomach has never churned at the sight of a drop before him, but he decides to follow that rule the best he can. He keeps his eyes towards an innocent-looking desk, with an innocent looking figure hunched over it. His goal, for the evening.

Because the laws of physics hate Ren, he falls. The hard, wooden floor rushes up to meet him. He sighs, aims his grappling hook at a tome resting on said desk, and fires in the blink of an eye.

He flies—tiny legs narrowly scraping the floor—before planting his feet against one of the desk’s legs, hanging by his own thread. Dammit, his target probably heard him. He was trying to be sneaky. But if a massive, looming hand happened to grab him while he was dangling off the desk...

Ren waits. Coughs. Looks up. Nothing.

He reactivates his thief mask, scaling the leg of the desk with an inhuman, borrower precision. He wouldn’t be so distracted if hadn’t just gotten off the demon device—as he heard Sojiro call it, an accurate assessment to the magical fucking brick his human friends gave him—with Ann. He can still hear her friendly, ribbing tone. The plans they made—that of course Ren never gave a definitive answer to. What if he needs to scurry around the apartment floor at that time, instead? His schedule is always a toss-up.

But, she’d understood. They shot the shit. Ann talked about her date with Shiho. Ren talked about the rat who’s been committing psychological torture on him for the path month. They’d talked about the cycle of nature, the ever-marching threat of death, what boba tastes like. Ren giggled and kicked his feet like a human girl in a movie.

Ren’s good at copying things, and his humans seem much more relaxed when he has a mask on. He doesn’t mind. It’s nice to be appreciated. Nice to sit and talk with Ann, let her call him cute and muse about his looks, even though he still doesn’t know what a modelling gig is. There’s nothing of note behind his mask, anyways. Maybe that’s why not one of them know his name.

He doesn’t mind. He loves his friends, them and their strange, human ways. Just—well.

He has a lot of masks. Switching between them can leave him a little dizzy, especially when it’s a drastic change. Especially with whose apartment he lives in.

Senses alert, he heaves himself onto the desk. He retracts his hook the second his feet meet the hard wood. His target sits just around the corner, hunched over some work or other. Ren waits, for a second, to see if he’s spotted him, but the form remains focused as ever.

Damn—wait. Phew. That’s what Ren means. He channels his instincts, thinks of every single ancestor that never let a human spot them for a solid 30 years before they died a valiant death via crow, and resolves to not meet the same fate.

With a silent, steadying breath, he darts out from behind the books, and takes cover behind one of the humans tools: a sharpener for their writing utensils.

He tenses, ready to bolt, to scratch and bite if needed, but there’s no use. Even though he ran directly in the human’s line of sight, he hasn’t reached over and grabbed him.

Without a single second of hesitation, Ren peeks around the device to see what, exactly, is so important that his human is ignoring him completely.

Akechi Goro sits with perfect posture, typing something on one of the larger magical fucking bricks he uses for his work. A cup of lukewarm coffee sits by him—instant, if Ren’s nose is correct. Akechi doesn’t look exhausted, just a bit high-strung. Absently, he chews on his bottom lip.

He’d never do so in public, lest he ruin his perfect, plush lips. Most of his behaviors he attempts to lock behind a fake-ass smarmy bitchboy—to use Ryuji's words—persona. Only Ren—a persistent rat in his apartment, he tells his neighbors after a noise complaint—is privy to what lies beneath.

The question of if Akechi’s still pretending when he drops the “Detective Prince” is one Ren can’t answer. That’s okay. Ren couldn’t answer the question, either, regarding his own personas.

Whatever mask Ren puts on is fun, though. He can be confident that it’s only a mask. He’s a wonderful person underneath. Really.

That’s why he strolls on up to Akechi, rolls up his sleeves, and drinks directly from his coffee mug.

Stealing food from Akechi is how their relationship began. They have fun. Akechi will spot Ren doing something borrower-y, and immediately try to whack him with a broom, or perhaps a rolled-up newspaper. They’ll chase each other around the apartment, Akechi screaming profanities all the while. It’s like that cartoon Futaba likes. What was it? Tom and Berry?

They have an understanding. A warrior’s bond. Futaba’s instructed him not to use that term anymore. The masks they wear are ever-present, but here, they’re thin enough to not exist. Almost.

Ren slurps, loudly, at Akechi’s coffee, looking up at the towering figure of his human, waiting for a disgusted glare. Any second now...

Nothing. The only disgust is Ren’s, after drinking that low-effort stuff after Sojiro fed him so well. It tastes like dirt, after someone dunked it in a pile of sewage water. And set it on fire. He’s being melodramatic. He can’t help it. Akechi hasn’t spared a single glance at Ren since he strolled onto his desk.

So, Ren strolls forward, hands in his pockets, bag hitting against his back with every exaggerated step. He meanders towards Akechi’s hand, it resting adjacent to his magical fucking brick. His fingers tap against the desk, in rhythm with whatever thoughts are flooding through his pretty little head. Every tap sends the ground vibrating beneath Ren’s feet.

He stops, not four inches away from Akechi’s hand—the length of his entire body—and looks up.

Akechi Goro, for all intents and purposes, is ignoring him completely.

Ren, like the mature, talented borrower he is, vaults himself directly over Akechi’s forearm, and lands square in the middle of his device.

Instantly, Akechi’s gaze snaps down to him, genuine annoyance pinched in eyebrows longer than Ren’s forearm. Ren calls up, not a shred of self-preservation instinct, “What’re you doing?”

Akechi’s annoyance sharpens into a glare. “Get the fuck off my keyboard.”

Ren pushes a button with his foot, one of dozens scattered around him. It yields under his touch, making a satisfying click. Ren holds his foot on it, unable to stop a grin as it stays under his weight. Human technology is so fun—!

He’s reminded why, exactly, he doesn’t interact with human technology as Akechi uses it. A massive hand snatches him in a fist, forcing the breath out of his lungs. Akechi all but yanks him away from his doo-dad. He rests his fist next to his computer, grip firm as Ren squirms. His brow pinches as he types away, likely erasing whatever contribution Ren made.

Ren waits for Akechi’s shadow to fall over him, for that massive face to overtake his vision. For Akechi’s hot breath to dance across his skin, for him to lean in and tell Ren what a pesky, troublesome little mouse he is...

Absolutely nothing. Akechi continues working, eyes glued to his glowing box. Ren huffs, and sinks his teeth into the flesh of Akechi’s thumb.

For a second, the grip around him tightens, before Akechi’s gaze finally, finally lands on him. His fingers retract, to the point where Ren’s dangling over them, more than anything. “Oh, you’re here.”

He—he forgot about him? About Ren? He kicks a leg out. Akechi’s fingers retract completely, leaving him standing on the open desk. He’s not even trying. What the fuck?

He opens his mouth, about to call up to him, when he notices Akechi’s attention has shifted entirely back to his device. Completely ignoring him.

Ren stomps back over to the keyboard, stands directly on two of the buttons, and glares up at Akechi. The human’s glare would make a lesser borrower curl up and never leave their house again. “Did you fucking hear me?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Ren crosses his arms. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

Akechi’s glare is acidic. Ren could imagine, all too easily, the red rings around his pupils. The steam pouring from his ears. Akechi grits his teeth, visibly restraining the urge to hurl Ren at the nearest wall. “Get. Off.”

Ren steps onto another key, never looking away. Make him.

It’s no surprise when Akechi yanks him up by the back of his shirt. Ren chokes, hands flying to his collar, legs dangling some half foot off the ground. With his other hand, Akechi rummages around the bottom of his desk, every jerk sending Ren swaying between his fingers.

“Since you wanted to know so badly,” Akechi growls, sparing a second to sneer at him before he pulls something out. “I have a report due tomorrow, at noon. About a case that I've already given a report on. With no prior warning from the director. As you can imagine, I don’t have time for any games.”

“Who says I wanted to play anything?” Ren gasps. Akechi, reluctantly, shifts his grip. “What if I just want to see my favorite detective?”

Akechi’s glare recedes, just the slightest amount. “You never want to see me for the sake of seeing me, Joker.”

“Maybe I do.” Ren dons an innocent look. The best he can, while Akechi’s a hair’s breadth away from crushing him in his fist. “Maybe I just missed you. Wanted see how you’re doing, you know? You must be so lonely without me around.”

Akechi smiles. The fake, forced grin that he gives to reporters, or anyone who’s pissing him off. “As you can see, I am absolutely dying without your presence.”

Akechi’s face shutters off into a sneer. Ren forced to look at the object in his hand. He blanches. “I'm sure I'll survive a little longer.”

Without another word, Akechi drops him, face-first, into a glass jar, and caps the lid.

Ren yelps as Akechi jostles him, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the smooth glass. He sets him on his desk, ever so slightly out of reach. He wants to yell back up to Akechi, to ask him what the hell he’s doing to such a poor, defenseless creature. He’s stuck trying to decide which knife of his three to pull when he notices Akechi is—

Ren gasps. Akechi’s ignoring him. Again.

Fine. Fine! Joker does not stomp his foot, because he is a grown borrower and he’s better than that. He paces in the small, circular space of the jar. He doesn’t look at Akechi. He’s not even bothered. He’s fine. Perfectly fine. He—he doesn’t care in the slightest.

He plops down, cross-legged, sparing another glance up at Akechi. The human hasn’t even given him a second glance.

What a dick.

Joker cranes his neck back, body itching to move after just a single second. Makoto called it a survival instinct. His brain is always telling him to move, as that’s how someone like him has survived for so long. Futaba compared him to one of her Pokemans—Spoink, if he recalls correctly. If he stops moving, his heart will stop, too.

Ren’s heart is currently beating out of his chest, a wonderful side-effect to spending longer than a minute in Akechi’s presence, so he’ll be fine on that front. He does stand up, pacing around the small, transparent space he’s trapped in. He knows humans use these for all sorts of things. Turns out trapping borrowers was one of its uses, too. The jar’s walls are hard, and even if he was taller than half its height, he wouldn’t be able to unscrew the lid.

Well. There’s always the self-destructive strategy. He walks over to the glass, looking up at Akechi’s massive, looming form, and asks, “Do you treat all the pretty boys you bring home like this, or am I just special?”

Nothing. He shifts an arm, crosses his legs, leans against the glass. The perfect balance between annoying and flirty. “Usually the guys I’ve been with aren’t this forward, but I don’t mind. If you wanted to keep me that badly, you should’ve just said something.”

Nothing. Nothing at all. The glass must be muffling his words—or, rather, Akechi finds it much easier to ignore him when he’s like this. For all intents and purposes, he might as well not exist.

It’s not a feeling he’s unused to.

Ren huffs. What is he, a moth? Getting defeated by some common, household object? He liked Akechi a lot better when he was trying to whack him with a broom. Ren’s better than this. He will beat this. He’ll make Akechi treat him the way he deserves.

He looks up. If he had a flat piece, he could probably, maybe, pry the lid open. However loose it is, it’d still be too tight for him to shoot his hook at. Even with some parkour, he’s too small to be able to reach it...

Ren stops. He peers over the edge of the desk. He recalls the time Sojiro broke a mug, the day when Ren willingly revealed himself. The way it shattered into a million pieces upon impact, scattered at their feet. He recalls how humans handle fragile things with such grace, as if the magic that makes objects fall will take even giants’ things away from them. He recalls how they handle him, his tiny, four-inch tall form, in the same way.

It’s unnecessary. He’s fallen before, from heights that would, relatively, injure a human. He’s walked away with only a few bruises. If he pushed this jar off the desk, it’d probably react like any other glass.

It doesn’t matter that he’s never fallen from this high before. He has his grappling hook. He’s too cute to die. Everything should be fine, right?

It’s either this, or waiting indefinitely until Akechi finally looks his way.

Joker takes a breath, and slams his shoulder into the jar.

it budges, a little. He does it again, harder. It warbles as it slides against the wood, scooting closer towards the edge of the desk. He can see the full drop, now. He slams again. If heights scared him, he wouldn’t be hanging around humans, now would he?

He tackles the jar once more, hand flying to his hook. He’s a master escape artist. A thief. A borrower with a perfect record—discounting the fact that his presence is known by at least 10 humans. He tackles it again. The jar is dangerously close to the edge. A single inch more, and it’ll teeter right off.

Joker looks up, watching Akechi’s massive, looming face. What he can see through the tangle of rope-like hair is impassive, neutral. Like he doesn’t care.

Joker body-slams the jar one, final time. It teeters, flies over the edge, and Ren yelps as he’s thrust into sharp, terrifying weightlessness.

His hand clenches around his hook, watching the swell of the floor come up to meet him, body curling and clenching as it braces for impact—

A few things happen in rapid succession.

First, the human looming above Joker, who reportedly wouldn’t fish him out if he somehow found himself in his blender, notices the tiny scream and jar falling beside him.

The second, is that his hand shoots out, catching the jar in a white-knuckled grip.

The third, is that Akechi’s face comes up to meet Joker at break-neck speed. His eyes are wide, frantic, crawling over every limb with frightening precision. He snarls, “What the fuck were you thinking?”

Ren opens his mouth, chest stuttering, “I’m fine—“

“Do you have a death wish?” Akechi continues, bringing the jar closer, inspecting Ren even as he yelps. “Are you insane? Do you particularly prefer to be skewered by shards of glass like a late medieval king? Of course, if the fall itself didn’t fucking—“

“Sounds like my type of date night,” Ren rasps. Slowly, he peels himself off the back wall, only to be thrown to his stomach as Akechi's hand flinches.

He looks up, seeing the white-hot fear on Akechi’s face gone, replaced with something like resignation. And smoldering anger. He says, flat, “What, exactly, was your grand plan with throwing yourself off a drop 10 times taller than you, Joker?”

Ah. Cutting straight to the point. Without a second thought for Ren’s poor, fragile well-being. How cruel. Though, the tone of voice suggests that he should answer honestly, lest the jar be thrown across the room—Ren included—like a rubber ball.

Because Joker fears no god and certainly no man, he answers, “I wanted to see if the stories about the strong, daring prince catching the poor, defenseless maiden from her tower were true. Though, I don’t think said princes had the social skills of a paper straw—”

Ren lets out a very mainly squeak as Akechi shakes the jar. He bounces Joker once, twice, three times, sending him flying and tumbling against the glass walls with every jostle. He stops, leaving Ren splatted against the bottom. He peels himself off with a grimace. Sun above—ow.

Ren looks up in time to see Akechi pause. His fingers tap against the jar, a sound like the patter of rain. He looks away, for a second, before smoothing his expression out into an awkward smirk. Good, let him feel guilty. Ren’s poor, wounded soul. “I don’t supposed said maidens would lose a fist-fight with a housefly, either.”

“I'll have you know, my prince,” Ren huffs, leaning against the wall in a dignified, not-at-all dizzy splay of limbs. “That I've won my fair share of fights against houseflies and grasshoppers.”

“Is that so?” Akechi looms in, smirk shifting into something more confident. He’s close enough that his breath fogs the glass of the jar, obscuring, for an instant, the sight of his massive, plush lips. “My hero.”

If there wasn’t a jar between them, they’d be close enough to touch: a small, inhuman body, pressed against lips the size of his chest.

Joker backs away. Akechi leans back, too, adverting his gaze to the jar’s floor. He sighs, tired. “Was that really your grand, daring plan for getting my attention? You couldn’t have done anything that, I don’t know, wouldn’t have killed you?”

Joker grins. He finds his grappling hook—lying on the floor, somewhere between falling and Akechi shaking the jar—and tucks it away. “You know that’s not my style.”

Akechi’s mouth twitches. A familiar movement, like he wants to smile, but doesn’t want to debase himself to such lowly instincts. He runs his thumb down the jar, covering Ren’s chest in its shadow. “Just—why?”

Well.

Akechi has been a good sport. He has, actually, paid attention to him, and his near-death experience of the day wasn’t because of the human. Ren supposes he can have this truth, no matter how embarrassing it is to admit.

Ren twists a lock of his hair, adverting his eyes. “Just...” This close, he can’t hide himself in the knowledge that he’s too small to see. Akechi’s far too close to ignore the cracks of his mask. “We haven’t seen each other since the last break your—learning-establishment gave you.”

“Golden week.” Akechi says, then blinks. “Is that all?”

“Yes?”

“That was hardly a week ago. I haven’t seen you since, either. You could’ve called.”

Ren shrugs, not sure how to express that such an action was the coward’s way out—and also violated every borrower code in existence. Breaking such rules for Akechi’s sake vs. his friends would be against their game.

A smirk dons Akechi’s face, like he’s found Ren’s hiding spot after a chase. “If you wanted to hang out, in the vernacular, you could’ve just asked.”

It feels like he’s treading on rocky ground, that the path will snap under him the second he takes another step forward. It’s not that it’d break the rules of their game. It��s not even that Akechi’s a human. It’s just—Ren can’t be too honest. “You’re busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Goro rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. You love to interrupt.” He flicks the jar, a hard, strong punch that sends Ren flinching back. “And I'm always busy—but you didn’t even have to interrupt. Not everything’s about you, you know.”

Ren begs to differ. It’s not every day a human’s blessed with Ren’s presence. But—

As much as it physically, violently pains Ren to admit, Akechi is...right.

He’ll die before he admits that to Akechi’s face. He braces an arm against the glass, steeling himself in case Akechi flicks his prison again. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Akechi rolls his eyes. He glances back to his computer, what must be a subtle action for a human, but what’s as clear as day to a borrower. “If you’re going to stick around and bother me, I'm afraid I actually can’t allow you to do that. I do need to complete this. My schedule is quite full, Joker.”

Ren raises an eyebrow. “And mine isn’t?”

Akechi raises one back. “I once saw you spend an entire day trying to domesticate my Roomba.”

“I know a spark of life is in that creature.”

“I—look.” Akechi sighs, scrubbing at his face with his hand. “If you’re going to continue to be a little shit, I have no problems about keeping you in this jar under supper.”

“Who the fuck says supper anymore—?”

“You’re the size of a key. What the fuck do you know? Just—if you want to leave, then say so. I'm not going to wait on your time.”

Ren presses his face to the jar, staring up, up, up into Akechi’s own. He swallows.

Nothing to be gained if you don’t jump, his aunt had said, before she fell down a sewer pipe.

“Put me in your pocket,” Ren says.

Akechi blinks. Slight disbelief paints his face, as if wondering if he hallucinated the words. “Pardon?”

“Your pocket.” Ren gestures to it, the massive patch of fabric below him, because he’s helpful like that. “Your hands are busy. You’re being too feisty to talk. You’ve deemed your computer more important than me. Put me inside. I'll be out of the way, and you’ll still be graced with my presence. It’s a win-win.”

Ren’s palms swelter. He’s donning an odd mask, but it seems to do its job. His chest flutters when Akechi brightens. “First, I'm sure you can imagine why I might favor my computer over the pest that keeps breaking into my fucking umaibo. Second, I wouldn’t call myself graced. Third, how, exactly, would you be winning?”

A flush creeps its way up Ren’s cheeks. “Uh—“

But Akechi doesn’t wait for an answer. With a sharp pop, he uncaps the lid to Ren’s prison. He jerks the jar down, sending Ren tumbling towards its mouth.

Ren does not scream, thank you very much.

He lands in Akechi’s hand only a few inches down. His palm is mercifully soft, a sharp contrast to—everything. He huffs, glaring up at the human’s face. Akechi only smirks down at him, and, like the scum of the earth he is, blows a gust of air at Ren’s face.

Ren sputters. Akechi’s fingers curl around him, the slightest amount. “I suppose I can keep an eye on you, while you’re in there. Try anything and you’re returning to the jar.”

Ren gathers his composure. He leans against a thumb half his height, fluttering his eyelashes. He refuses to lose here, in Akechi’s hand, surrounded by his form and heat and soft flesh...focus. “What’s the matter? Scared you couldn’t keep your eyes off me?”

“Just of losing my last single, working braincell. Do you want to go in, or not?”

Ren...does. He doesn’t think about what this means, the prospect of being so close to Akechi, so—vulnerable. He’d be right up against his chest, probably next to his heartbeat, enveloped by his warmth.

He’s—he doesn’t think about it. He’s gracing Akechi with his presence, that’s all. Absolutely nothing more.

Ren nods. Akechi sighs, and moves his hand towards his pocket. Ren finally takes note of his grey sweater, the small, slightly ratty fold of fabric over his chest. He holds Ren above its lip, gifting him a view of a dark, soft, cramped area.

He can feel Akechi’s warmth: from his fingers, from the slight heat emanating from his chest. He catches a faint whiff of cinnamon, undoubtedly from the human holding him. He’s so close. He’d just have to burry into his chest, pick up his thumb and press his lips against it...

Sun above, it’s a miracle the borrower’s survived for this long.

Akechi drops Ren into the pit. He flails, tangling his limbs in the fabric as he slides down. Ren huffs. Honestly. Beasts, humans are.

He lands in a soft corner, limbs splayed out in the bunched fabric.

It is warm.

He can hear Akechi’s heartbeat—pumping steadily, despite the claims that he doesn’t have one. The weight of his pocket stifles his brain’s constant urge to move. Akechi breathes in, and Ren moves with the rhythm, rocked against the human as he resumes work. Slowly, Ren rights himself, relaxing into Akechi’s pocket.

It’s...nice.

Akechi’s voice reverberates around him, accentuated by the clacking of his keys, “I meant what I said. Try anything, and I'm chucking this thing across the room with you inside. I wonder, would the Roomba continue if I set you in its path?”

Ren huffs, for lack of projection, he bangs his fist against Akechi’s chest. It flutters against him—a slight, stifled laugh.

It’s nice.

Akechi goes silent. For a second, Ren can’t even hear the clacking of his magical fucking brick. He thinks he’s about to fill the silence before his typing resumes, like nothing ever happened at all. Ren settles into his pocket, bunching a tiny pillow for his head and curling up. He knows he needs to figure this out before it kills him, to find what mask to wear so Akechi believes him, to figure out how to tell a human, of all creatures, the truth, but...

Later.

He hasn’t seen Akechi in so long, after all.

Ren closes his eyes, relaxes in his rival’s pocket, and very pointedly does not drift off to sleep.

He won’t let Akechi steal this victory, too. Not when he’s already stolen his heart.

#persona 5 #persona 5 g/t #g/t writing #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t fanfiction #shuake #akeshu #my writing

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