#it just hurts a little bit because all my insecurities last year were kind of true | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

worldofkuro · 4 months

Text

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XV

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Because I wasn't satisfied with the last chapter I decided to post the next one right now. I’m so excited about your thoughts because the plot is finally beginning ! I can’t wait to hear about your theories.

“ It makes your boobs look ugly, another one please !”

You were being tugged behind the curtain already being undressed to put on another dress. Today you were with Alice, in one of the most expensive shops of all New Orleans, to find your wedding dress. It was an exciting, amusing and stressful experience. Alice was being, as usual, honest about the dress you have been trying for almost an hour.

“ Alice, how many more dresses do I need to try? You know we still don’t have a date for the wedding? Alastor’s father is still missing.”

“ What about it? His loss if he misses the wedding. Now, I think I’ve found the perfect dress for you~!”

You laughed behind the curtain. Alice didn’t even know Alastor’s father, she never met him but you have told her once that you didn’t feel comfortable with him and she decided that she would hate him until the end of time. You looked at the dresses you have been trying, a part of you was happy to be here with your best friend and yet you wondered…Were you selfish? You knew Alice was in love with Alyzée but they couldn’t get wed to each other… Were you hurting Alice without being aware of it?

“ Alice–?”

“ This one. This one will fit perfectly your waist, your legs, your shoulder, your chest. For heaven’s sake, I’m the best.” she said looking at her nails. Why were your best friend and your future husband so full of themselves while you were always insecure ! “ Come on, try this one.”

“ Alice.. I’m.. You’re okay?” you asked, taking the dresses off her hands.

“ Yes? Well, I’m still shocked about what you told me about John, but you know what we say, we don’t keep trash around us.”

“ Who is “we”?”

“ Me, Myself and I. Now, try the dress, doll ! I’ll find the shoes!” you laughed as you watched her running away. You sighed with a smile, you were surrounded by amazing people, you should try to be more sure about yourself.

The workers from the stores helped you put on the dress and your shoes. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You felt.. pretty. Really pretty. You smiled at yourself, moving the pans of the dress, loving the movement it was doing.

“ Can I see?”

“ Of course Alice.” you turned around. Since you could remember, Alice always knew how to dress you up. From her Christmas’s Eve’s soirée where she had found that beautiful dress from today, she would always come with outfits from other countries, always being new, unique, something Alastor scoffed most of the time. He was always saying that Alice was running toward the future without being aware of her surroundings. And Alice was always saying that Alastor needed to shut up because he was lucky to look good in anything.

“ Oh my Lord. You look ravishing, my friend!” she clapped her hands together, her eyes whelming up a bit. “ Oh God… I’m… I’m so proud of you.”

“ I haven’t done anything yet.” you laughed nervously.

“ Take the compliment for once. So, what do you think? I , personally, think it’s the perfect dress for you. But what do you think?”

“ This is my favorite too. but the price–”

“ Let me buy it.” you opened your mouth, ready to complain but Alice stopped you with her hand.” I know, I know, you’ve never liked me paying stuff for you, expensive things mostly. But please, just this one, let me buy it. I… The next time I go into this kind of shop might be for my own wedding, which won’t be filled with laughter and love like we just did. It might be selfish, but just.. I want this moment. I’m sorry–”

“ Okay.” you smiled, almost moved to tears by her comment “ But Alice, for your wedding, no matter with who, I’ll be there. There will be laughter and love, because you won’t be alone in this.”

You saw Alice nodded, wiping some tears from her eyes. You looked at her, your best friend might never be married to the one she loved, but you will never let her feel loveless.

You took off the dress, as Alice went to pay in cash. You joined her once you were dressed with your own clothes and you both walked toward her place. You saluted the butler, who bowed to you.

You both sat down in the huge living room, sighing in relief. You took off your heels, your feet were killing you.

“ By the way, if we need to find Alastor’s father to be able to have your wedding, do you want me to… pull a few strings for you? I could call the best of the best!”

“ No, no. I won’t lie, the fact that he is missing isn’t… bothering me.”

“ I’ll cheer for that. “ she winked at you before asking for wine. You laughed, she always loved Rosé. It wasn’t very strong in alcohol, it had a very good taste but when the alcohol hitted. Dear lord…

You didn’t drink too much, you had to walk back home yourself after all. You smiled when you saw Alice put on Alastor's broadcast even though she was rolling her eyes at the radio sometimes.

“ Are you hearing him? Gosh. I knew you when your voice was cracking, Alastor !” she shouted at the radio.

“ Alastor voice never–”

“ A woman can dream, dear. Gosh, now I hear his voice anywhere I’m going.”

You laughed behind your glass. Alastor was gaining popularity surprisingly quickly, which was good of course. It was the best outcome you could imagine.

“ Now, about my cottage.”

“ Alice, we told you we don’t have the money and you just bought me my wedding dress.”

“ Who is “we” my dear?”

“ Me, Myself and I.” You stuck your tongue at her, making her laugh. Alice was a girl ahead of her time with her manners and way of talking, she always felt like a breeze of fresh air.

“ Well, if you all say so.” She took a sip of a drink before looking at the door, her father making his entrance. You stood up as the big man smiled at you, he always has been nice, never raising his voice, always wanting what’s best for Alice.

“ Oh, good afternoon ladies. Alice, I just wanted to tell you that you might have a date with the son of the–”

“ Yes Daddy, I know, don’t worry I’ll go.” she said, looking away. You saw her father smile sadly before leaving after giving you both candy you used to like when you were younger. You looked at her, worried. Was she going to be okay? “ Don’t look at me like that Doll. It’s going to be the same as usual, I’m going there, bat my pretty eyes and at the end, I’ll just say to Daddy that the man wasn’t what we needed for the family.”

“ How long do you think you can keep this game going?”

She stared at the large windows in silence. Alice was just like a bird in a cage, she felt like freedom, but would never taste it for herself.

“ As long as I can.”

You stayed with her until the sun was setting down. The maid took her to her bedroom as she was sleeping on the sofa. Seems like going on another date was getting harder and harder for her. Was Alyzée aware of it? You sighed as you gave your goodbye, before walking out of the mansion.

You decided to go into a park, walking between the trees. There weren’t a lot of people outside, even though we were in March, the weather was still cold. You stopped when you saw an old man fall not too far from you.

“ Oh sir! Are you alright, let me help you!” you said as you took the cane that had fallen from his hand. You helped him sitting down on a nearby bench.

“ Oh, thank you little lady.”

The man was tall, black with brown eyes, a white beard, he was wearing a hat, helding on his cane, he seemed like he had injured his leg.

“ Do you want me to take a look at your leg? I’m no nurse, but I used to help my father when he came back from war.”

“ Ahh, war. You don’t need to take care of me, little lady.” he smiled warmly at you. “ You look sad yourself, do you need to talk about it with an old man?”

You looked at him, he felt so warm and he was… cute. His aura was gentle, cute like a kid that wanted to learn something new. You haven’t seen your grandfather since he died during the war, you haven’t had the strength to go back to your old country to go to his grave so… Maybe why not indulge yourself and talk with this man?

“ I’m… I want to help a friend, she is in love but can’t marry that person.”

“ Aah, love. And why can’t she?”

“ She had to marry someone from “noble blood”.” you sighed, rolling your eyes. It was bullshit. “ She has no choice.”

“ Mhn… I think she does, little lady. We always have a choice, when you think you don’t have one, it’s because you already made up your mind. “ he smiled at you with eyes that held so much wisdom.

“ But… What if the other choices are more dangerous?” you asked, feeling like you weren’t talking about Alice anymore.

“ Well, little lady. What would you do?”

You stopped talking. You killed to be with the one you wanted. You had a choice and yet..

“ Are you unhappy with the choices you made?”

“ No, but I’m afraid of what it will bring at my door.”

“ Aah.. Si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse pouvait.”

“ What?”

“ You will see, little lady. Your friend is maybe so blinded by what she has to do that she can’t see what she could do. Love is the deadliest poison and yet the sweetest remedy in the world. She should try to think for herself, don’t you think? Would you rather live your whole life in misery or be happy for a short time of your existence? The difference between existing and living is thin, little lady, but it exists.” he nodded before looking at the sky, seeming lost in thoughts.

You stared at this mysterious man. He seemed to be around 60, maybe that is why he seemed so wise. You looked at the sky and gasped when you saw the moon in the sky. It was already dark!

“ Oh, I need to go!” you stood up but before leaving you took the candy from Alice’s father. You smiled at the man, placing the candy in his veiny hands. “ Thank you for that useful advice.” You beamed at him as he looked curiously at the candy before smiling at you. “ Maybe we’ll see each other one day again !”

“ May our ways cross again if needed, little lady, may our ways cross…”

You ran back home, feeling better than when you left Alice’s house. You walked inside and saw your father with Jeff in the living room. They were still trying to understand how Alastor’s father could have disappeared like this. You smiled at the men, walking toward them.

“ Nothing news?”

“ No, my sweet daughter. We are trying, but from the moment he left the bar he wasn’t seen anymore.”

“ I’m sure the wife was having an affair and decided to kill the husband. Classic scenarios.”

“ And how could she have done that?” you sat on the sofa, staring at Jeff with an innocent smile. You almost smirked when you saw him puffing his chest, feeling so much pride in vomiting all the information he should kept away from you.

“ The man came home, drunk. She could easily poison him, hide the body somewhere and end the story.”

“ Mhn… But without a body, you don’t know. What if he was the one having an affair and ran away? From what I understood, he seemed to be someone who drank a lot, maybe he was being ambushed in an alley because we know for a fact he never made it back home.” you smiled at him, your father smiling with pride by your side.

“ That what they say but–”

“ No, that’s what we said. I was there. I’ve never seen this man come back home.” you stared at him down. He shut his mouth. “ You see, I really want to get married and the fact that you are trying to put the blame on my future family in law is getting on my nerves. So please, do me, us, a favor, find out what happened. And if you are unable to, just give up.” you looked at your father. “ I don’t want to wait forever, I want to get married.”

Your father stared at you before kissing your forehead.

“ Alright sweetie, we have a new man who’ll help us in this case. I’ll give him three months, if he doesn’t find anything, I will close the case and we will concentrate on your wedding.” you hugged your father with a happy grin. Finally!

You bid your goodbye before going into your bedroom, getting ready to go to bed. You listened to the noises downstairs, waiting for Jeff to go and your father to go to bed.

You were concentrating so much on trying to hear what was going downstairs that you didn’t notice the shadows behind you. You almost shouted as a gloved hand fell upon your mouth, muffling your screams.

“ You’re such an easy prey, dearest.”

You sighed in relief as you closed your eyes. Alastor was really the quietest being you have ever met, which was surprising when he was the noisiest man on the radio.

You turned your head toward him, looking at his mocking smile. He was so full of himself. You bit his finger before letting it go, going for a hug. He hummed against you.

“ How did you come here?”

“ Well, the windows, dear.”

You scoffed before forcing him to sit on your bed. You sat on his lap and took his hand with yours, playing with his fingers.

“ I have my wedding dress.” you smirked when you felt his whole body tensed underneath you. “ And you won’t see it, because I left it at Alice’s.”

“ Do you really need Alice in your life, dearest?” asked Alastor with an amused voice.

“ Yes! Come on Alastor, be honest with me, you enjoy Alice’s company?”

“ Hah ! I enjoy Alice’s contacts nothing more.” he rolled his eyes, pressing you against his body. “ She is useful and she can be amusing, when she is having problems.” he smirked at you, making you slap his shoulder, trying to contain your laughter. He was such a…

“ Well, I have some news on your father’s case, my dear future husband.” you smiled as you explained what happened with Jeff. You couldn’t help but grin when you saw Alastor beaming with pride as he listen to what you have told the policeman.

“ My, my… So, they think my Mother did it?”

“ For now, we know that we have three months until we are completely free of it.”

“ Have you felt it again?”

You tilted your head.

“ What?”

“ The need to kill.” he asked you, gripping your waist, pressing your body against his. You felt lightheaded.

“ N-N.. Well… I thought for a second.. to kill John.” you saw Alastor’s pupils dilated as he stared at you before kissing your neck. You tilted your head to give him more room.

“ Mhn, interesting, go on, why?”

“ Because he was bad mouthing you.” you tried to contain the anger in your voice, you didn’t want to wake up your parents. “ Who does he think he is?” you rolled your eyes, you were still hurt about what John has said but now you weren’t feeling sadness over it, only anger.

“ Would you like to kill him?”

You looked at Alastor who had his chin against your chest, looking at you in a way too innocent face for the conversation you were having.

“ Alastor, we can’t. There would be too much suspicion on us, we already have your father’s disappearance on us, if we kill John–” he kissed you feverishly making you sigh in the kiss. Oh, how you loved the feeling of Alastor’s lips against yours.

“ Do you hear yourself, darling?” he smiled against your lips. “ In your mind, you are already ready to kill him… ” he sighed against your skin. You stared at him, stroking his cheeks. You wanted to see the Alastor you had seen the first time you killed.

The difference between existing and living is thin, little lady, but it exists.

You kissed Alastor on the nose, with an excited smile.

“ Not now.”

You fell asleep with new marks on your thighs and your neck. When you woke up the next morning, you were already smiling.

You stayed with your mother all morning, spending time with her until you decided to go to Alice’s. You didn’t know when her date was supposed to be, but if you could help her morally before she had to leave, it would be great. You took some pancakes you’ve made and walked toward her mansion, the butler let you enter, escorting you to the living room.

“ Miss Alice shall be here soon.”

You nodded before sitting on the sofa. You put the pancakes on the table and wait until you hear the familiar footsteps of your best friend. You turned your head and smiled at her, as usual, she was beautiful.

“ Hello Alice.” you stood up and you both hugged each other. She sat next to you, holding her head in her hand. “ Mhn, the wine doesn’t taste good the day after, right?” you laughed as she groaned.

“ Please, not so loud…”

“ What a hangover.” you whispered, mockingly. She stuck her tongue at you before digging into your pancakes. “ Well, someone is hungry.”

“ I don’t want this man to think he has a chance with me because I seem eager to eat.”

You smiled, crossing your legs. You told Alice that you needed to wait three more months before finally concentrating on your wedding. You laughed as she let out a sigh of pure relief.

“ Thank God, since when do we stop living because a man disappeared.” she rolled her eyes before eating the last pancake. You look at the butler who came to announce Alice’s date. And like an actress, Alice put on the fakest smile she could conjure, Alastor would be proud. You stood up as a man, looking around 40 came into the living room, he was sweating so much you could see sweat pearling on his forehead.

You gave Alice a look, encouraging her with your eyes before leaving, you even made a face to the butler who nodded at you, with a disgusted face. You laughed before leaving, going out to buy some pastries. You walked to the park, thinking about your weddings. Where should you do it? What about the honeymoons? Did Alastor want children?

You stopped when you saw the same old man from last time, sitting on the bench, smoking a pipe. You grinned and walked toward him.

“ Hello, sir.”

“ Hello, little lady.”

“ Might I sit a moment with you?”

“ It would be my pleasure. You seem happier than yesterday.”

You smiled as you sat next to the man. You felt safe with him, maybe it was because his aura reminded you of your deceased grandfather..? You didn’t know. You began to talk, mostly about what was going on in your life until you began to talk about your wedding.

“ Mhn, you have quite the ring.” the old man said with a little grin. He didn’t have a ring on his fingers, did he never get married?

“ Yes, in less than three months, I will be able to concentrate on my wedding.”

“ Who is the lucky lad?”

“ If you are listening to the radio you might have heard him, his name is Alastor.”

“ Alastor heh..? Quite a name, quite a name…”

You smiled, happy that Alastor was getting a name to himself. You took your box of pastries and held one for your new friend. He thanked you before eating one éclair au chocolat. You smiled as you kept talking with him, the man mostly listening and giving you wise advice.

“ Being too confident is not a good thing, your insecurity might be a blessing on some occasions.”

“ What do you mean?”

“ Don’t be afraid, to feel afraid. The ones who don’t fear are gods, spirits…”

“ But it’s irrational.” you frowned, how many times you felt jealousy when you didn’t need to be.

“ Yes, but it’s instinctive. Here is some wise advice from an old man: trust your feelings. Did they ever betray you in the past, when you needed them, little lady?” he looked at you with a warm smile.

You looked at the ground. Your family always told you, you were sensitive, you would easily be overwhelmed by what you were feeling or what was going on around you.

But when Alastor’s father took the bullets, you didn’t know why, you felt it in your guts that something was going to happen. That’s why you had run outside to find Alastor and that's how you killed his father.

But then, why did you not feel John’s romantic attention towards you ?

“ People who feel a lot are trying to balance themselves by becoming observant. That way, they feel more grounded, they think they are being rational, which can be good sometimes. But you mustn't discard your feelings, you’ll lose yourself like that. You seem like a sensitive little lady, it’s not bad and it’s not good, that's what you seem to be. Why would you want to be like others, they are already busy being themselves.”

“ So.. I should listen to myself more?”

“ It’s a choice you can make. Feeling emotions is a good thing, it connects you to the rest of the world.” he nodded before looking at the sky, smiling warmly. “ And isn’t it beautiful?”

You stared at the man. He was such an.. intense person in a way. Would he talk to you the same way if he knew you had killed someone and you didn’t feel any kind of remorse?

“ What if… by being connected to the world, I might be a bad person?” you whispered.

“ That’s your choice. For some people you will be a bad person no matter what you do, no matter what you think.” he looked at his cane before eating the rest of his éclair au chocolat. “ Soldiers killed during war, the winners are seen as heroes, and the losers as cold blooded killers. Who is right? They all killed people, they all did horrible things and yet they aren’t seen as the same. Your father have killed during the war, right? What made him different from an enemy soldier?”

“ Because… he was fighting for what’s…right..?”

“ Who says?” he tilted his head, always having a gentle expression. He wasn’t judging you, he was just curious about your thoughts.

You couldn’t find an answer to his questions.

You stayed in silence for a moment, thinking about the man’s words. What was strange, was that his words weren't shaking your morals, but it was making you accept them. You had killed, you wanted to kill again, maybe not as strongly as Alastor, but you wouldn’t be opposed to killing again, if it was to protect. You knew it was the difference between you and Alastor, you would kill to protect while you knew Alastor would kill.. Because he wanted to.

And you accepted it, you accepted him, you accepted yourself.

You would be the wife to a murderer, maybe he would kill again, maybe not. You didn’t really care. You would be by his side, as promised.

You opened your eyes, feeling lighter. You didn’t expect to feel burdened by all of this, but maybe, the fact that you were trying to make the wedding happen was a way for you not to think about what happened.

You felt better.

You turned your head toward the man who was looking at the people walking in front of you. They weren’t looking at you, just walking, not even caring about you. You smiled.

“ Thank you. I feel… better.”

“ Is it a good thing?” he asked, amused. You grinned.

“ Well, for my own happiness, yes!”

“ Then, everything is good.”

“ I’m going to meet a friend.. But, can I have your name sir?”

The man stared at you with his usual gentle and wise expression. You waited politely, maybe he thought you were being rude, asking his name out of the blues?

“ Legba.”

You bid your goodbye before walking toward Alice’s home. You were going to encourage her to break free from her chains! She didn’t need to marry a sweaty man, she could handle herself perfectly! You entered the mansion, the butler escorting you once again in the living room. Now, you just need to wait!

You opened your eyes, not even realizing you fell asleep when you heard shouting at the front door. You walked toward the entrance and saw Alice and the sweaty gentleman, your friend was shouting at the man, demanding his departure from her house while he was clearly trying to calm Alice.

“ What is going on?”

“ This man is just a filthy pig! Touching me like I’m some kind of harlot.” she was fuming, trying to contain her rage. What did that man do? The man, who didn’t seem sure of himself became more confident, pointing at Alice.

“ Maybe that’s what you are, kissing the mayor’s daughter like this. What a scoop that would be, unless we come to an agreement of course. I think you would make a darling wife Miss Alice. I’ll let you think about it, and if you need more convincing, I have proof. Now, have a great night ladies.”

And just like that, he left.

Alice closed the door before dropping to her knees, breathing heavily. You took her in your arms, looking for a butler or a maid but nobody was around, which was weird. You tried to calm her but she was panicking.

“ He saw us.. He saw us kiss.. Oh lord, what could happen if he were to open his mouth about it.” she was shaking, nipping at her nails.

You calmly took her hand with yours.

“ Do you have any way to get rid of him?”

She looked at you, seeming torn to speak before sighing.

“ Don’t think I’m a monster but… Most of the richest families have.. people who do their dirty jobs? Sending… assassins or things like that..? I’ve never done that of course, but I feel so trapped right now… Oh, what Alyzée is going to think.”

“ She won’t need to think about it. Use your assassins.” you wondered if you were shocking her. Maybe you were a little too at ease with the idea of killing someone ?

“ No. They would report everything to my father and if they see the proof… My father would know about me and Alyzée.” she sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. You knew it was dangerous, you knew it could backfire but…

“ What about me?”

“ You? What you?”

“ Do you want me to… ?”

Alice stared at you before laughing so hard she was crying. Or was she crying so hard that she was laughing ?You waited for her to calm down before staring at her.

“ Are you serious ?”

“ Seems like she is.”

You both turned around to find Alastor, standing in front of you, the door open.

“ My dear, we don’t talk about taking trash out at the entrance, I taught you better than that.” he smiled widely at you. Alice was looking at you then at Alastor, seeming confused. You sighed before helping your friend standing up. “ Is there a place we could talk about getting rid of the trash?” asked Alastor with a beaming grin.

Alice seemed to come back to herself, and she tugged you to her father’s office. She locked the door behind Alastor, staring at you.

“ Explanation ?”

“ Nothing too serious. You’ve been caught in a big scoop Alice, and you need us to clean the mess you’ve made!” you paled, asking Alastor how did he know, did the bastard already told everyone? “ Oh dear, no, but from Alice’s expression, the only things that could make her so upset would be you or her lovely Alyzée. I took a lucky guess.”

“ Alastor, you are… your father… oh… that explains so much.” Alice let herself drop on her father’s chair. “ So, that’s why you didn’t want me to help to look for his father, because he killed him?” asked Alice, looking at you, confused.

“ We killed him.”

“ Of course you did.” she sighed, putting her head on the desk. “ I need.. a fucking glass of whiskey, I’m not having this conversation sober.” She took a bottle from the cabinet before sitting back in front of you. She poured herself after giving you and Alastor a glass. “ So, let me get this through, you both killed Alastor’s father and now you want to kill the man who knows I’m in love with Alyzée?”

“ Well, Alice, for once you made your brain work. I would almost be shedding a tear if I cared.” said Alastor as he sipped his drink. “ And furthermore, this man is a pig that needs to be slaughtered.”

You felt relaxed. You didn’t know why, but the fact that Alastor was referring to the man as a pig made you feel even less remorse than you could have felt.

“ What are you winning from this?”

“ Nothing–”

“ Doll, I know you don’t want to manipulate me. I know. I’m talking about your murderous husband. He wouldn’t help me freely.”

“ Using your brain for the second time? What a day folks ! It’s simple really, you are at the head of one of the richest families in Louisiana. Having you on my side is a plus.”

“ I’m already at your side–!”

“ No Alice, you could be cutting yourself to prove your faith and I would still doubt you. But a crime, that is a win-win situation. The pig is slaughtered, you are free, my darling and myself are doing what we need and everything is back to normal!” exclaimed Alastor with his usual smile.

“ … Fine.”

As Alice and Alastor were talking about the contract, you felt shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes, trying to comprehend what was happening. You don’t know why but you remembered Legba’s words. You need to trust your instincts. You couldn’t hear Alice and Alastor anymore, you could hear footsteps… You could hear…a shovel digging into the ground.

“ Darling?”

You gasped as you felt Alastor hand on your shoulder. What just happened ? They both were looking at you, worried.

“ I’m okay.. I just.. I’m okay.” you nodded, feeling extremely tired all of the sudden. “ Alastor… Where is your father's corpse?”

“ Six feet underground.”

“ I think.. I think we should check it out.”

“ Why dig up dirt from the past?”

“ Because I think someone is trying to dig him up.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine @thenorthnightingale @bibliophile-yomna @itzjustj-1000 @mothraantics @yourdoorisunlocked @phamtasic @karmakillz @holographicage @sarcastic-sourwolf @akuraluna2468 @everwolf-20 @thesunandmoons-blog @songbrita @noraunor @fandomsbookclub @hokkaido97 @catticora

302 notes · View notes

sunsetsturniolos · 7 months

Note

Oneshot: Matt confronting you after you start getting quiet. You’ve been getting insecure and you feel like you’re holding him back. This hot ass man is sweet as fuck tho!!!

talk to me - matt sturniolo x fem reader

a/n: took my own little twist on this :) sorry is there are any mistakes!

warnings: mentions of toxic childhood, not eating, hate comments, insecurities. if you are going through any of this please talk to someone! my inbox is always open if you need some to rant to 💞

as always my inbox is open for requests, but other than that, enjoy!

lots of love,

m💌💌💌

it had been about 2 weeks since you and the triplets have done anything together. every time they asked you to do something that involved getting ready nicely you shut them down. this wasn’t like you, normally you were a very bubbly and happy person who was always jumping at opportunities to do something fun, so you knew they were starting to get suspicious but you just brushed it off and moved on.

lately you’ve been feeling very insecure with yourself. you grew up in a toxic environment, which lead to you always having the thought in the back of your head that you weren’t good enough. recently, you’d been in some of the triplets videos, and the hate had been adding to this. you’d stopped eating as much, cutting down to a few snacks a day, maybe a whole meal if you were lucky. it’d been like this for a while, and while you hated doing this to yourself, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

a few days had passed and matt was starting to get worried. he knew you were struggling at the moment but he didn’t realise it was this bad. the triplets ordered canes for dinner last night, and while matt thought you ate your meal and didn’t finish because your stomach was hurting, he was wrong. he found your entire meal in the bin the next morning and suddenly everything made sense. he’s been trying to muster up the words and courage of what to say to you. he knew he had to do something, he couldn’t bare to see his beautiful girl going through this. he waited a while before finally going to your guys’ shared bedroom, already finding you sat on the bed, phone in hand. you had bags under your eyes. you’d lost a lot of weight, you weren’t yourself anymore.

“hey baby, can we talk?” matt stuttered,

“uh, yeah of course,” you hesitantly replied, these kind of conversations always made you nervous. “uhm i don’t really know how to start this, but i saw all of your food from last night in the trash, i thought you ate some of it?” matt asked.

shit. you thought.

“oh eh i just wasn’t that hungry thats all.” you quickly replied, hoping to end the conversation.

matt knew that was all bullshit.

“love, you and i both know that isn’t true,” he spoke.

oh you were screwed.

“talk to me baby, whats going on?” he carried on, adding a comforting hand to your thigh, you tensed under his touch.

tears started to well up in your eyes, you knew you couldn’t keep it in anymore, you had to tell him. “i’ve just been feeling a bit insecure recently, i mean you’ve seen the comments right? everyone thinks i’m fat!” you’d broken down by now. matt’s face was drained with guilt. “baby those comments don’t mean anything! your the most gorgeous girl i know! they’re just jealous, mean 12 year olds! please don’t let them affect you. everyone loves you so much, nick loves you, chris loves you, and i love you more than anything! this isn’t healthy, you need to eat.” matt was right. “i know, i just didn’t know what to do.” it was a lame excuse and you knew it, but you had nothing else to say. “please talk to me next time, you know i’m always here for you,” he reassured, you lazily nodded.

“i love you matt.” “i love you more baby, why don’t we go get ice cream from down the street, your favourite?” matt smiled. “that sounds great honey, thank you.” you blushed.

matt quickly kissed you forehead and grabbed his keys from the dresser. he held his hand out for you as you got up and interlocked fingers, making your way to the car.

what would you do without this boy.

tags: @sturnioloslurps @lacysturniolo @lewisroscoelove @55sturn @freshloveforthefit @lanai3mother

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets

367 notes · View notes

narcissarina · 5 months

Text

Distanceજ⁀➴

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍.

“Leon?” chat sent.

No messages, it was just delivered. Maybe he's busy.

—Chat sent a minute ago—

“Hey, love. It's me again, I wrote you a letter today and I plan on piling them up so when we finally closed the distance, I could give them to you!” chat sent.

Still no replies, your messages were on delivered but you are positive that he's in a mission. He did tell you beforehand, yet you insist on spamming his dm because it gives you comfort.

Looking back, still no reply. A mission does take a week or a month to finish but you couldn't help but worry and feel a little insecure without his assurance.

You were going to send him another message, “Hey Leon...” your finger froze and continue, “I miss you already, text me back okay?”

Chat sent

—Chat sent an hour ago—

Going hom to an empty house, to an empty phone and empty inbox—no response. It made you overthink, insecure and feel a painful ache in your chest, but writing your feelings down and saying your day to his dm does help, right?

“It's me again, everything just hurts, my love:(” chat sent

“Hey baby! I wrote 5 pages of letter for you, will pack a box for the things I write for you♡”

“Had a rough day from work, wish you were here nor we could call. I miss you so fucking much...”

“I wanna recall many memories with you, Leon. And yet, I couldn't recall the last time we kissed:(”

“baby, are you still there?”

“I miss you, sorry if I'm annoying.”

—Chats were sent 3 days ago—

Coming home from work as usual, leaving you extra tired, depressed and sad. Eyes were puffy from all the crying last night, still no messages from him. Must be hard for two souls bound to be in love with a distance between them.

“Baby, my heart aches, but I want you to know that I'm still longing for you, please be safe.” chat sent

You lump down on your bed, hot liquids starts to form at the back of your eyes as you cry out again. It was a tiring long day and Leon would be the first one hearing your whines and complains you tell about.

But you can't.

And you fell asleep, face down to your pillow and the plush (that looks like him) that he got for you on your side, as you suddenly awoke from your sleep. Phone vibrating as you choke a sob out, throat dry and eyes puffy.

You check your notifications, it was Leon.

Holding back your cries as you read his messages.

“Hey, princess. Sorry for responding so late. I appreciate you spamming my inbox, it made my day to see you speak about your day:)”

“don't worry about it, sweetheart. I'm here now, now what kind of stories will you be sharing hm?”

“I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you okay? I miss you too, baby. So fucking much that I'll lose my mind”

“my baby's very pretty and mine only, don't want your pretty little head be filled with those thoughts. I'm here and you can talk it out with me, what your feeling right now is completely valid:) I love you.”

“You're not annoying. I love you.”

Crying to his messages, no matter how late he is—you are glad that he is well and still the same man you fallen in love with, you read his text as he constantly assures you and replies to every messages you sent to him. Small things matter.

One message did caught you off guard, it was just sent two seconds ago: “open your door, baby. I'm here.”

You didn't believe that, he must be tired from being an agent but you try to humor him and went to your door—although you do feel a bit nervous, when was the last time you two saw each other? Six years ago, that's for sure.

Your door slowly creaks as you open it, eyes wide open and tears spilled out from your eyes as he was standing before you—bouquet of flowers in hand with your favorite chocolate and a big teddy bear beside him, “suprise, happy anniversary.” he spoke in a tired tone and lean down to kiss you and give you his gifts.

You cried, being a sobbing mess you were already are—you place his gifts nearby and jump into his arms, feeling his warmth and skin to yours.

He got inside your apartment, it was a mess and Leon lie down in your bed and you on top of him, refusing to let go. “My baby koala.” He chuckles and kisses your temple, you kept muttering your i love yous to him and spilling tears to his shirt.

“You can stop crying now.” he mutter, sitting up with you in his hand as he felt you clench your hands to his shirt—refusing to let go, you shake your head in response as you stick yourself like a glue to him.

He chuckles and let you have your way, staying like that for a few hours as he finally spoke, “I have a proposal.” he pauses, watching you twitch as your reaction, you hum to him and nuzzle closer.

“Let's live together from now on.”

124 notes · View notes

insxghtt · 2 years

Text

reschedule — bella ramsey x reader

All you wanted was to go back in time.

warnings: hurt/comfort. i used they/them pronouns for bella (bc i see that it's what pedro uses) and it was kind of difficult bc english is not my first language so if i got anything wrong i apologize. also bella said that they don't rlly care abt pronouns so i guess if i use she/her or he/him is ok right? idk let me know in the comments.

this was based on two requests: "hi babe can you write bella ramsey x reader where reader and bella are in a relationship but reader believes bella will leave them and bella reassures reader that they love them sm" / "bella and reader have a massive fight and reader thinks it’s a breakup but then bella comes and they makeup?"

You and Bella had been together for three years and not even once you doubted that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with them. Bella was everything you’ve ever wanted. They were kind, funny, beautiful, and most importantly, they always made sure to make you feel loved.

You knew how important their career was to them and you respected that. The Last of Us was a huge success and Bella was out a lot, doing interviews and even getting new jobs. You were so proud of them and just seeing that sparkle in their eyes was enough to make you forget any problem you had going on.

Well, you had a few problems going on. You just released your second book and the book launch was awesome, except for a little detail. Bella wasn’t there.

It’s okay, you thought. They were busy with work. It happens. But just because it happens doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt a bit. Especially when you found out that they didn’t show up because of an interview. Interviews can be rescheduled. Especially when it was someone like Bella. Pedro rescheduled an interview two times a while ago just because his sister needed some help with the children. He said that family always comes first.

It was your second book. You had been writing it for two years, working every single detail of it. It was a big deal. Maybe she didn’t see you as family, you thought. That was when all the problems became to appear. All your insecurities, all your internal conflicts. You spent the whole book launch overthinking every part of your relationship.

When you got home, you knew Bella would be there. They had your key and asked if they could go to your place after the interview. You said yes, of course. Didn’t matter if you were slightly hurt, you just wanted to be with them.

“Hey! How was it?”, Bella smiled when they saw you walk inside the apartment.

“It was good”, you smiled back and gave them a big hug. “I missed you so much.”

Bella laughed at how muffled your voice was because of the way your face was hidden on the curve of their neck. “I missed you too, darling.”

You let them go and they gave you a quick kiss. “I’m hungry. And really, really, tired.”

“I know. It’s why I ordered some pizza”, they pointed to the box on the center table in front of the couch.

“Oh, you’re the best!”, you throwed your body on the comfortable couch and sighed. “Is it pepperoni?”

“Yes...”, they sat next to you and grabbed one piece, giving it to you.

“Thank God... I mean, I know you’re like, a hater of meat eaters, but...”

“I’m not a hater!”

“You are kind of a hater. It’s why I appreciate this”, you grabbed the slice of pizza.

Bella grabbed one slice of the other pizza, the one without meat, and looked at you. You two smiled at each other and toasted the slices before eating it.

The time went by and considering how hungry the two of you were, it didn’t take long for the pizza to disappear. Between one bite and another, you told Bella about the event. You told everything, like you wanted them to see it. You really wanted them to see it. And when Bella realized it, they felt terrible for not being there.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You already said that”, you laughed and held their hand.

You were with your head laid on their shoulder and you felt them kissing your hair.

“No, I mean it.”

You raised your head to look at Bella. “It’s fine, you were working.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No!”.

You were a little mad, but it would pass. There was no reason to ruin that moment with a stupid argument. They were sorry, that’s all that mattered to you.

“At least you read my book, it’s more than what my own mother did, so...”, you joked.

But Bella didn’t laugh. In fact, they gulped.

“You read it, right?”

The response was the silence. All the walls you used to hide how disappointed you were collapsed right there.

“You didn’t even read my book?”, you dropped their hand.

“I was going to...”

“I gave it to you, like, a month ago.”

“I was going to read it, I swear! It’s just that there were so many things going on that I...”

“Oh my God”, you stood up from the couch. “You really don’t care, do you?”

“What?”, they stood up as well. “Of course I do!”

“Yes, of course you do, but never as much as you care about your own work!”

Both of you were angry now. Bella was feeling offended. It wasn’t like they were terrible all the time, Bella was always doing the best to make you happy.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, Bella, it’s just the truth.”

“Imagine if I told you that every time you say no when I invite you to an event, how would you feel?”

“It’s different, Bella. You’re great at what you do.”

“And so are you!”

“It’s not the same thing!”, you yelled. “People love you. You’re successful.”

“So what? You want me to not be good at my job?”

“No, damnit! What I'm trying to tell you is that we’re different. You’re on, like, a thousand tv shows”, you pointed at her and then at yourself. “My biggest achievement was a book written three years ago and after that, all I do is sit and watch while the world around me continues to move.”

Bella stood silent, waiting for you to finish with tears in their eyes.

“The one thing that kept me going was this stupid plot I had in my mind during a shower, a stupid plot that I worked so fucking hard for two years. You were there, you saw it! I fucking cried myself to sleep wondering if I would ever do anything good again”, you dried your tears with the sleeve of your sweater. “And I finally did it! I did it, and it’s so good, and I wanted you to be there so you could see how good I am. I wanted to give you a reason to be proud of me!”

When you were done talking, Bella didn’t say anything. They didn’t even look at you.

“I think I should go”, they said.

“You’re going to leave? Really?”

“I just...”, they sighed. “I need to be alone now.”

Bella gave you no time to say anything. They grabbed their bag that was on the corner table next to the door and left.

“Yeah, that is really fucking mature, Bella!”, you yelled before the door was closed and they were gone.

The morning after that night was awful. You and Bella never had a fight like that. You tried to call them 2 times since you woke up, but it was useless. At first, you thought they were asleep, that’s why they haven’t answer. But the day went by, the night came again, and they still gave you no answer. Talking to their mom, you found out where Bella was.

“Locked in their room”, she said through the phone.

“Okay, can I talk to them?”, you asked nervously.

“Did you guys have a fight?”

“Ah...”, you were not sure you wanted to talk about this.

“Alright, you don’t have to tell me”, she calmed you down. “Bella asked me to say that they’re busy, if anyone called.”

Shit, they were going to break up with you.

“I though Pedro and Bella were supposed to be on a tv show today.”

“Bella rescheduled.”

Okay, so whatever Bella was doing, it was more important than you, apparently.

“Oh...”

Bella’s mom sighed. She knew the two of you enough to tell that something was off.

“Honey don’t worry”, she said. “I’m sure you guys will figure this out.”

It didn’t feel like it.

“Okay”, you agreed. “Thank you, I'll try to call them again later.”

“Bella loves you very much, you’ll be fine.”

You thanked her again before hanging up. Not a second after that, you got a message from Pedro, answering one of your texts asking about Bella.

“They didn’t say anything to me. Just that something came up and that it was urgent, so we had to reschedule the interview.”

You couldn’t stop a tear from rolling down your cheek as you typed.

“I think they’re gonna break up with me”

Pedro was fast to answer that one.

“Bella is crazy for you. Shut up.”

You let out a sad laugh. Pedro was so sure of it that you were a bit jealous of that confidence. Bella never did that before. Honestly, it felt like it was already done. You could imagine them coming to your apartment to pick up their stuff and you could see yourself begging for them to stay. Were you being dramatic? Maybe, but it felt real.

You laid on your couch, curled up in a ball of blankets that smelled like Bella. It was funny how much you missed them, considering that you saw each other last night. But this was different, this time they didn’t say the ‘I love you’ that they always said before leaving. No, they said ‘I need to be alone’.

That was it? Three years of relationship thrown away because of a book.

The sound of the doorbell brough you back to earth in a flinch. You stood from the couch and stared at the door. What if it was them? You didn’t want to hear it right now. You couldn’t handle it. Not now.

“I know you’re in there, the lights are on.”

Shit. It was Bella. Trying to be silent, you reached for the light switch and turned it off.

“Did you just turn the lights off?”

“No...”, you answered, soon closing your eyes and hating yourself for being so fucking stupid.

With no other options, you walked to the door and opened it.

“Why did you kill him?”, Bella asked.

They had dark circles around their eyes and on their hands, was the book you gave them. Your book.

“What?”, you were still trying to process it.

Bella entered the apartment without even asking. “Why did you kill him? Do you know how sick and twisted this is?!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your book!”, they pointed at it.

You closed the door and continued to stare at them without having any idea of what was going on. “You read it?”

“I read the first two pages last night and just couldn’t stop”, they said, gesticulating every word in excitement. “Why did you kill him? Do you know how much I cried?”

And then you realized. She was talking about the main character on your book.

“Well, I...”

“I mean, do you have a problem with happy endings? This is the best book I've ever read, and you had to kill my favorite character?”

You didn’t know what to say. “How did you finish it so fast?”

“I was up all night.”

Oh, so that’s why...

“And you didn’t even think of, I don’t know, check your fucking phone?”, you yelled. “I thought you were going to break up with me!”

Bella finally stopped talking and looked at you with confusion in their eyes.

“Why would I break up with you? I love you.”

You breathed in relief and closed your eyes. “You dumbass”, you whispered before wrapping your arms around their waist on a tight hug.

Bella was still confused, but they hugged you back and ran their fingers through your hair. “I’m so sorry I made you think that.”

You raised your head to look at them. With all the tenderness in the world, Bella touched your cheeks and kissed you on the lips. All the worries, all the sadness, it was all gone. When they pulled away, their arms were still around your neck and your faces were still close.

“So that's what you were doing?”, you asked with the smile on your lips that Bella loved so much. They nodded. “And you cried?”, Bella nodded again. “Good.”

Bella laughed and gave you another kiss. “I should’ve been there. And I should’ve read it the same day you gave it to me...”

“It’s fine.”

“Shut up, let me finish”, they interrupted, and you let out a laugh. “I am so proud of you. You’re so good at everything you do and this book...”, Bella sighed. “This book is just heartbreaking, perfect, sad, beautiful, thrilling...”

“Yes, I got it”, you giggled, already blushing from so many compliments.

“Exciting, original, sensational, fantastic...”

“Okay!”, you covered their mouth with your hand. “You loved it, I get it.”

Bella tried to say something, so you removed your hand.

“Are we good?”, they asked.

You answered it with another kiss.

“Okay, I think we’re good”, Bella smiled.

“Yes. Yes, we are.”

926 notes · View notes

writing-for-marvel · 2 years

Text

Everyone’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) (2)

Actor!Bucky Barnes x Assistant!Fem!Reader

< < PART 1 | Series Masterlist | PART 3 > >

Summary: It’s Bucky’s big late night interview promoting his new movie, but when the interviewer asks a question which causes Bucky to storm off the set, you’re there to comfort him.

Warnings: idiots in love, hurt comfort, interviewer brings up questions which crosses Bucky’s boundaries, shy/insecure reader, soft fluff

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: this is dedicated to the beautiful and kind @blackwidownat2814 because I love you so much and I know you wanted more of these two! You said you haven’t been feeling the best lately so I hope this cheers you up, even just a little 💜 photo credit @deardjo, banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

“You’re on in five, Mr Barnes!” A voice calls to Bucky who’s getting ready in his dressing room.

Tonight’s a big night for him, appearing on Late Tonight with Alexander Pierce, his first late night talk show interview to promote his newest movie, and though the occasion is a significant one, Bucky looks as laid back as if it's just another day.

Bucky’s manager, Maria, is on what Bucky calls one of her rampages, listing off a million and one last minute reminders about what to endorse in the interview and the specific phrasing the producer wants him to use when introducing the movie.

You know it by heart as you were the one practising with him in the car on the way to the studio. You knew Bucky was better at memorising lines than he had let on, he is a professional actor after all, but it made your stomach tingle with butterflies to think he was purposely messing up the lines to get you to laugh and playfully reprimand him.

As Maria continues her one sided conversation, Bucky looks over her shoulder at you and makes a silly face, poking out his tongue, making you chuckle. He’s such an idiot sometimes, but he never fails to make you smile, even during a time where he should arguably be tense and not paying any mind to relaxing your nerves.

“As always I’ve given them a list of topics which are off limits but if he asks you anything you don’t want to answer...” Maria continues, you’re unsure if she’s immune to Bucky’s goofiness and is ignoring him, or if she’s too preoccupied to even notice.

“I know the drill Maria. Don’t you trust me?”

Maria gives Bucky a look, and even though she has her back to you, you know her well enough to sense the stern glare she’s throwing at him. Though, she’s never been intimidating enough to scare Bucky who’s still cheekily grinning like a ten year old thinking they’ve gotten away with a prank.

“You’re a mischief maker, so no I don't, not when it comes to live interviews.” Her phone starts ringing, saving Bucky from the rest of her spiel. “And fix your goddamn tie before you go on, you look like a troublesome schoolboy!” She calls back into the dressing room as she excuses herself to take the call.

“C’mere.” You step closer to Bucky and pull him the rest of the way towards you by tugging on the end of his tie. When he’s this close the scent of his deep, smokey cologne seems to overpower all your other senses and makes it hard to focus. “I swear I’ve shown you how to do this a thousand times.”

“Maybe I just like when you pull me close and do it for me.” Your cheeks heat like the sun and you shyly break eye contact to look at the floor, a feeling that’s all too familiar when you’re around Bucky, but is still a reaction you haven’t mastered in concealing from him. You suspect he does it on purpose.

You’re saved from having to form a sentence in your flustered state by someone shouting “Barnes, two minutes!” from the hall.

“That’s my cue. See you in a bit.” You can sense the smile in his voice, even when you’re bashfully staring at the ground.

You turn and watch him stride out of the room, your arms finding their way around your middle, hugging yourself as if Bucky’s departure results in you losing a part of yourself you’re desperately trying to hold onto.

Before he can disappear into the corridor, Bucky looks back at you, an instinctive smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he finds you already looking at him. He shoots you a wink before making his way towards the stage.

You turn the television in the dressing room on to watch the interview, but you can hear the clapping and cheering of the audience resounding through the entire studio as Bucky’s introduced.

He aces the first part of the interview, introducing the film word for word from the script provided by the movie producers, and describing the action packed teaser scene shown for the first time on the show. You breathe a sigh of relief as they cut to the advertisements, knowing everything so far has gone to plan and Bucky only has to get through a couple more minutes before he’ll rejoin you in his dressing room.

When the show comes back from the ad break, Bucky and Alex are laughing about something he must have said before the cameras were rolling. He looks happy, relaxed, that infectious smile of his plastered from ear to ear.

“So, we all want to know, have you got anyone special in your life? Is the devilishly handsome, notorious ladies man Bucky Barnes single?” Alexander asks eagerly and the crowd buzzes in anticipation waiting for his response.

Your stomach churns with a new wave of nerves - you know for a fact that this is on the list of no go topics, yet the host has no qualms in asking it.

Bucky doesn’t let the concern for the hosts' blatant disregard of his boundaries translate to his features, but you know him well enough to tell that the forced smile, small chuckle he lets slip out and slight change in his posture means he’s extremely uncomfortable with the probing question.

“I like to keep my personal life private. I already share so much of my life with my fans, but there are certain things I want to keep just for myself.” Bucky answers firmly, maintaining the strict boundary whilst also remaining polite.

There’s a moment of respite from your nerves, believing Bucky’s answer to be sufficient to shut down whatever Pierce is attempting to gain from the unsolicited question, but his next words bring the anxiety back with full vigour.

“I think that’s code for: yes, he’s in a relationship.” Pierce addresses the crowd, who starts ‘awwing’ in response. “Want to let us know who the lucky lady is?”

“No, that’s not what I-” Bucky tries to insist, but Pierce rudely interrupts to ask the next question. You can see Bucky’s jaw clench, even through the small screen you're currently watching from. Though he’s simply a room away, it feels like an entire galaxy in distance when he’s in front of cameras and you’re unable to do anything to subside his annoyance which is quickly turning into rage.

“The other burning question our fans had for you was the origin of your prosthetic arm - you’ve never explained how you lost your limb and of course we’re all intrigued by the mystery. I think now is the perfect opportunity to set the record straight.” Pierce looks at Bucky expectantly as if he had simply asked what day of the week it was.

If there is one hard no Bucky would never answer publically it was the story surrounding how he lost his arm.

You can see the anger bubbling in his chest, but most of all the pain, the grievous misery he’s trying so hard to disguise in his eyes. He desperately doesn’t want to break down in front of the entire world.

“That’s not a question I’m willing to answer.” Bucky replies in a faint, cracking voice. Standing up, to the gasps and murmurs of the audience, Bucky takes off his microphone pack, leaving it on the host's desk, and walks off the stage without another word.

You hear Pierce claim “I guess that’s just Bucky Barnes living up to his roguish ways” with a laugh before shutting off the tv, scrambling to gather your things and go find where Bucky headed off to when the door swings open.

Bucky stands tall and broad in the doorway, but you’ve never seen him look so small.

As he closes the door behind him you hear a sniffle and your instincts immediately kick in - he’s barely turned around to face you again before you’ve pulled him into a bone crunching hug. Your heart breaks sharply in your chest as you hear the wrenching sob he finally lets out.

Tears sting behind your eyes as you feel Bucky’s chest heave with his weeping, but you do your best to pull yourself together. You have to be the strong one here, Bucky’s the one in unimaginable pain.

The door bursts open but Bucky doesn’t let go of you to look at who it is. Maria stands there with a combination of fury and concern mixed in her eyes, as well as sympathy as she observes Bucky’s large frame crying into your shoulder. She silently raises her eyebrows as if to ask if you think he’ll be okay.

“I’ll take care of him, you go berate them for what they did.” You suggest, and even though it’s unlike Maria to do anything without disagreeing and recommending her own approach first, she nods and backs out of the dressing room.

You stand there, softly rubbing Bucky’s back and whispering sweet nothings into his ear, as he cries into your shoulder. Your heart, which Bucky already owns completely, shatters alongside his.

“How could he?” Bucky asks with an invigorated sob. You wish you could alleviate all his pain, even by taking it on yourself, just so he wouldn’t have to bear the burden. You squeeze him tighter in attempts to convey the sentiment.

However, you’re unsure how to answer his question because you yourself don’t understand how someone could be so cold-hearted to shamelessly mortify Bucky with the most traumatic event of his life in front of the entire world, especially after specifically prohibiting the topic.

“I dunno Buck, but he’ll never get the opportunity again, you hear me? You’ll never have to be in the same room as that shithead ever again.” You hope your words bring Bucky some comfort, but as this wound is so raw, the ache so fresh, you’re not sure there are any combination of words that can stop his pain.

You stay with him as long as he needs you to, slowly rubbing circles over his back, until eventually his sobs subside and his breathing slows to normal.

“C’mon, let me drive you home.”

“Home sounds good.” Bucky comments, but by the way he’s nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and how he’s holding you tight against him, it doesn’t seem like he’s in a rush to get there.

After a few extra moments where you cherish simply holding each other without Bucky’s movements as he wept, you pull back, taking an additional second to admire just how blue his eyes are, even if they are tinted slightly red from crying, and how they look at you with a fondness that makes your knees weak, you whisper “let’s get outta here”.

The drive to Bucky’s house isn’t too long, especially this late at night. You attempt to prevent Bucky from reading any headlines about the situation, but with the exception of tossing his phone out the window of the moving car, there’s not much you can do.

“I swear it’s all everyone sees, what Maria loves to push for publicity - the supposed playboy with a mysterious past because he won’t talk about how he lost his fucking arm, I hate it.” His voice is full of exasperation and it makes you want to pull him back into another hug.

“It’s not what everyone sees, Buck.”

“Really, who doesn’t?” Me, you want to declare, but you question the implications of saying it aloud and the word dies in the back of your throat. You’re his assistant, just his assistant, and it’s inappropriate and unprofessional for you to infer otherwise.

“The people who genuinely care about you and know the real you - your Ma, Becks.” Is what you say instead. Your eyes are focussed on the dimly lit road ahead of you so you miss the downcast look Bucky throws your way, as if he was hoping you’d have answered his question differently.

“Yeah, I guess.” Is all he mumbles before sitting in quiet contemplation for the rest of the short drive to his house.

The silence gives your mind time to regret what you didn’t say, and wish for that time back again. Will there ever be a perfect time to tell him how you feel? How he makes your cheeks ache with how much he gets you to smile in his presence; how your eyes are always searching for him in a crowded room, and that your stomach somersaults when out of everyone, you’re the person he makes eye contact with before smiling; how no matter what time, day or night, you’d drop everything and anything if he needed you.

As if sensing your mental suffering, Bucky places his hand atop yours on the gear stick, still not saying a word, but the action itself calms the storm of anxiety building in your chest.

You pull up in his driveway and turn off the car, unsure if you should get out and help him inside, or if he just wants his space. You give him time to make up his mind, but your doubt is answered almost as soon as the rumbling of the engine ceases.

“Can you stay with me tonight? I don’t wanna be alone right now.” You’re sure you’ll never be able to say no to Bucky Barnes, but when his eyes look as fragile as a bubble floating in the wind, ready to pop at any given second, all you want is to pull him close and keep him safe forever.

Behind that fragility is uncertainty, unsure if you’ll agree to stay or not, and even though you weren’t sure it was possible, your heart cracks a little more after the events of the night knowing that he doubts whether you’d do absolutely anything for him.

“Whatever you need, Buck.”

“I just want you.”

“You have me. You’ll always have me.” And you mean that, with your entire being.

You get out of the car and snake your arm around his back, he does the same to you. You walk arm in arm through his front door, treasuring the warmth of his closeness and forcing the romantic implications to the back of your mind.

Those can be discussed tomorrow. Right now, he just needs you.

Part 3 > >

Add yourself to the series/AU taglist to be notified of any additions to this AU

1K notes · View notes

kai-anderson-whore · 1 year

Note

Can I have an Evan request? Could it be that they have an age gap (I’m 22 lol) and she is insecure and it ends with fluff and maybe smut??

Of course sorry it took a bit to write and I hope you like it🥰

Do you love me? (Evan peters x fem reader smut)

Summary: you and Evan have been secretly dating for six months but you don’t want to hide anymore

Warnings: smut, fluff, p in v intercourse, self doubt, questioning of relationships, private relationships let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 1,6k

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You sat on your boyfriend's bed strolling through instagram seeing all the photos of the event he had attended last night. You hadn't attended the event since you and Evan weren't publicly a couple. You knew Evan likes to keep his personal life private but you couldn't help but feel insecure you had been dating for a little over six months and you couldn't go and do normal couple things because no one knew.

You could say you love him but neither of you said it yet. He was a few years older than you you were 22 and him only just turning 36. You knew if you both came out publicly about your relationship some may have not so nice opinions but you didn't care. Evan made you happy unlike anyone had before in previous relationships. He is kind, funny, humbling despite his line of work and just the most sweetest person ever.

You just worship the ground that man walks on. But the worry and insecurities still remain within you, 'I'm I really good enough for him?', 'does he love me?', 'is he going to break up with me that's why we aren't public?'. The thoughts ate you up. Biting your nails looking at how happy he was in photos with other celebrities.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Evan walking in with a towel wrapped securely around his waist, droplets of water dripping from his hair. "Hey babe" he smiled sweetly grabbing some clean underwear and sweatpants from his drawer. "Hey" you mumbled still lost inside your head you hadn't realised that Evan placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

"You okay?" He asked noticing your lack of awareness. You nodded your head saying you were fine but Evan knew you weren't. "Are you sure you look like your about to cry, come on babe talk to me" he whispered now sitting down in front of you. Your head hung low in shame the tears pricked your eyes.

"Hey don't cry" his voice become more soft like you would crumble at any given moment. His arms wrapped around your frame as you just sobbed into his arms. Evan just let you cry everything out till you were ready to talk, his hand rubbing your back soothing you, soft whispers of "it's okay" and "just let it all out" whilst placing his lips on top of your head.

You stayed huddled into his bare chest for about five minutes just letting all the buildup of your suppressed emotions out finally. "Evan do you even like me?" You asked not looking into his eyes fearing they would show you something that you didn't want to see. Evan scrunched his face in confusion not knowing where this had came from. He was absolutely smitten with you from the moment he laid eyes on you and it was beyond him why you would think differently.

A soft chuckle of disbelief and nervousness left Evans lips "what makes you say that?" He asked his hand still stroking your back comfortingly. You finally looked up at him seeing a pang of hurt within his brown orbs. "It's just your friends know about us and that but we can't even go out in public because we aren't official I'm not caring about the media and all that I just want the hiding to stop it's killing me" you sobbed more.

Evan hadn't realised that it upset you that much. He would love to be open about your relationship to everyone but with the past and who he is he preferred to have a private life. "I didn't know it upset you y/n I completely understand why it is upsetting you but I want you to know over these past six months you shook up my whole world for the better, and yes I do like you a lot in fact it's not even that anymore" Evan paused taking a deep breath unsure if he should drop the bomb on you both at this moment.

"It's what Evan?" You asked feeling scared incase he took his words back. You studied his every feature focusing more so on his perfect brown eyes. They showed something more towards you. Evan parted his lips licking them "I love you y/n" he blurted out. Your eyes went wide he finally said those three words that you had been dying to hear.

"W-what" you lowly gasped not fully processing what he just said. "I love you and I'm so sorry for making you feel like this and questioning my feelings towards you. but god y/n I love the bones off you and we should go public about your relationship" Evan remained his strong eye contact with you. You felt your heard swell with joy from his words. The tears that treacle down your face went from sorrow to pure joy.

"I love you too Evan" you whispered a smile cracked on to Evans lips before crashing them on your own plumped ones. The kiss wasn't like anything before it was soft yet full with passion, like he was trying to express himself more or like it would be the very last kiss you'd ever have.

His hand placed on your cheek holding you close. your lips moved in sync your hands tangled through his locks as he gently pushed you further down the mattress his body shifted between your legs, his hand moved to your side caressing your soft skin from beneath your thin nightdress. The other supporting him upright. You could feel his erection hidden by the towel on your inner thigh slightly grinding against the bare skin for friction.

A small whine left your lips as Evan pulled away only to remove your nightdress only leaving you in your underwear. "God how did I get so lucky" he happily sighed before pressing his lips back on yours. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip seeking entry which you accepted. Your tongues danced with each other your hands trailed along his arms down to his chest driving Evan wild.

Your hands went lower hovering over the towel covering him, slightly tugging on the fabric for it to drop off Evans hips. You bit your lip in excitement as Evan began pulling your panties down discarding them on the wooden floor. You could feel the heat raising within your heat the anticipation clawing at you waiting on his next move.

Evan lined himself up with your entrance your core desperate to be fulfilled. With one gentle push of his hips he entered slowly into you, you lowly gasped your hands on his shoulders. Your face scrunched as Evan pushed deeper into you but his lips peppered along your skin as a way to focus on something else.

“It’s okay baby” he whispered in your ear pulling out almost fully before thrusting into you passionately, a moan left your lips your hands making their way to evans back slightly digging your nails into his back earning a groan from him.

“I love you so much” Evan’s hot breath fanned your face, a droopy smile on his lips, passion and admiration within his brown eyes. “I love you too” you hummed lightly as Evan picked up a steady passionate rhythm. Both of your breathing became heavy, your mind clouded by Evan you were completely like putty in his hands.

The room soon was filled by moans and grunts from you both. Evan started to pick up the pace of his thrusts into you, his head dipping into your shoulders, your hands tugging at his hair driving him wild. A repeat of “I love you’s” left both your lips. It wasn’t like anything you did before it was like you both unlocked this new passion for one another a whole new meaning as your body’s united as one.

“I’m so close Evan” you moaned out your hips bucking upwards as Evan hit that spot guaranteed to make you see stars. “Me too baby” he says slick sweat decorating your skin, you hair tossled over the pillow but Evan thought you couldn’t get anymore beautiful. The way your eyes would roll back with each thrust he delivered to you, the your lips would part open letting your moans slip freely like music to his ears.

With a few more thrusts you felt that knot in your core begin to unravel. another loud moan left your lips as you reached your climax, your back arched a “fuck fuck” you cried out the euphoric feeling of your orgasm triggering Evan’s filling you up with his hot seed. His thrusts were sloppy milking you through your highs till he practically collapsed on top of you.

All you could hear was heavy breathing your hand strokes the back of Evan’s neck trying to regain your breaths. “I really mean it y/n I love you” Evan stated glancing at you with those eyes that always captivate you into a trance. “I know I love you too” you smiled sweetly with sleepy eyes.

Evan pulled out of you a whimpered sigh escaping from your lips at the loss of contact. Evan grabbed a towel helping you get cleaned up. You throw on your nightdress back on once you were all clean Evan discarded the towel in the dirty laundry basket in the corner of the room before climbing into bed with you.

You laid your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you holding you close. “Goodnight y/n” he mumbles sleepily “goodnight Evan I love you” you yawned eyes closed but you could feel him smiling down at you “I love you too”.

310 notes · View notes

wyn-n-tonic · 1 year

Text

That's A Real Fucking Legacy: All of You, All of Me

Word Count: 968 Warnings: Uh.... death talk? Author's Note: SHE'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT, BESTIES.

TARFL Masterlist | Author Blog

It’s been years in the making at this point.

You, Joel. Baby. Except her name isn’t Baby anymore and it’s not Thomasin either.

There was a lot of discussion, a lot of broken hearts and tears from all parties involved. Tommy was touched but he ached. Even when he got over it, found somebody else, he ached so deep in his being that there were nights he thought he’d split himself in two.

Because at the end of the day, he still believes—with all his heart—that your little girl should be his, too. He believes that when you took the last name Miller, it should’ve been gifted over from him.

“I’ll hold onto this hurt for the rest of my life, sweetheart,” he’d said.

Said he’d accepted that he’d caused it but that didn’t make the pain go away. Didn’t soothe that raw, bruised part of his heart—his soul.

There was no begging, Joel was on board from the beginning. Joel was on board before anybody else. Change her name, something more appropriate for who she is to you and Joel and this world. A gift.

A second chance.

Or third. Fourth. Fifth.

One hundredth and many more than you deserve after years and year over this life; this way of living.

Especially for Joel, your strong, broad mountain of a man who believed himself irredeemable in the eyes of everybody but especially yours. He cradled her with such gentleness, even as she grew, that it was hard to believe he was capable of any kind of violence.

So, after a year of late night and early morning talks whispered across the pillows, decisions had been made. A lot of them, actually.

Joel admitted that he felt his humanity pouring back into him with every breath he took beside you; every moment he held your daughter in his arms. He bloomed as father, color darkening his cheeks with emotion every time he looked at her. He felt like before in some sense of the word, like he was being given the gift of fulfilling the only thing he ever felt he was good at.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, you know where that thought would often go. Silent promises to himself that he wouldn’t fail this time. Or, God help him, he hoped his failure was no longer being in this world to protect her when it came down to it.

In the registry office of town, where all the records of who was who and where they were were kept, you both signed as a new birth certificate was made.

Clara Miriam Miller. No Thomasin, no Baby. No placeholder for who she was or name to carry as if she were some memorial, just Clara.

It means bright. Clear. Joel joked that she was the only light in the darkness he’d ever seen or needed.

It was good, beautiful even. As you finished your signature on the page detailing everything you could remember about her birth—bloody, loud, an early morning surprise that still exhausted you to this day—Joel cleared his throat.

Trying his best to tuck an unruly piece of hair behind your ear and failing, he took a deep breath and finally said, “will you marry me while we’re here?”

That’s the last piece to his puzzle, always has been. The thing he always wanted before—-companionship. Love in such an intimate way. Not that your relationship lacks that as it is but there’s something about being official.

There’s possession to it and there’s this bit of submission as you vow to give all your life and love and hurt and pain and, even, your death to one person.

No. No doubts in your minds about this one either. He loved so fiercely, so deeply, and he’d whispered all his insecurities and broken parts in all the nights you’ve lived together. He didn’t have it before, not when it happened. Selfishly, you’re glad that he didn’t, that his wife had walked away from him years and years before that. If he’d lost her the way he’d lost the others, the way he fears losing you or losing Clara…

But if that had been the case, there would be no you. Not for him. There wouldn’t even be a Clara, there would be somebody else with somebody else.

Or maybe nobody at all.

Your vows are even more selfish as you tell him how grateful you are that you found one another through all this and the more that life tried to throw at you; that you went to him the way Tommy had said to when there was trouble even though it scared you so much to knock on his door.

It scared you to tell him the things you told him, to make the decisions for yourself and decide you were tired of pretending it wasn’t love that you felt for him.

In the end, with Clara’s small face tucked neatly into the crook of his neck, he took your hand, looked at his brother and apologized with gratitude tacked onto the end.

Looking back at you, he smiles and you reach out to touch your thumb into the hidden dimple as it wells deep into his cheek.

“When I go, I hope it’s peaceful,” he says. “I hope it’s beside you, Mrs. Miller, and I hope it’s only after years. And, selfishly, I hope it’s not a pain or absence you have to feel for long because I am going to be mighty pissed off if you make me wait for as long as I did to have you in my bed in the first place.”

Going back to your signature on Clara’s paperwork, you pick up the pen and add -Miller to the end of your name.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tommy miller #tommy miller fanfiction #o writes

179 notes · View notes

lukweer · 1 year

Text

ok so like there are two parts of me, right? well there are a lot of parts but english is hurting me right now and my head isn't working so you will make due/do(?)

anyways one part is like: my sense for gay people is strong, i think i know which f1 drivers are gay and i am confident in my answers

but the other part is like: its wrong to speculate sexuality because if people havent come out then they either aren't ready to be out or aren't gay, but at the same time this generation is moving away from the construct of coming out so like... idk.

today the first part is stronger, though, so i want to share my speculations because everyone in the states only watches nascar and is a hick and i'm scared of them. they also do not like my italian accent :(

1. Max Verstappen

come on guys, any gay person could tell u he's probably bi. i mean he doesn't even try to hide it, u know? like there are compilations of him being fruity. and they are shockingly long.

he's mentioned using grindr, he's mentioned girls OR guys when talking about dating preferences, the whole thing with the freaking lei (i think thats how it is spelled, the hawaiian thing? the flower necklace?). the list goes on and on.

he's had girlfriends, and i'm pretty sure they weren't beards but i'm not sure. i'm leaning towards bi tho for this reason.

even if he isn't bi or gay or pan or whatever, he's at least incredibly comfortable with queerness and is probably a really cool dude. annoying when i'm watching the sunday races, but love him the rest of the time!

2. Lando Norris

lando is a bit more subtle with it (as are the other ppl in the list). emphasis on a bit, though.

unless you live under a rock, you've probably seen this gif:

this has called many aboard the lando is a little fruitcake train. what people don't realise is that he "eye fucks" or like... stares lovingly a lot.

other examples include:

staring lovingly at carlos sainz

checking out charles leclerc (kind of? i think he is checking him out)

staring lovingly at carloz sainz

this weird ass moment with, you guessed it, carloz sainz

there are a lot of these photos and clips out there, but i'm lazy and don't feel like looking for them so yeah. take my word for it.

i saw a post saying that if carlos and lando pulled up to the paddock holding hands and telling people they were dating they wouldn't be shocked. i agree with this statement entirely. as was stated, it takes a lot to get to that point, and we're at that point.

now i grew up a gay dude to a conservative family, and i know the little mannerisms that are like... a part of being gay? and i know what it looks like to hide them.

i do not know if this is the right way to say it or if it is politically correct, but i believe it to be true. gay men tend to have little mannerisms here and there that give us away a bit, and i think i've seen some of those in lando.

i don't think i will share them though, as i don't want to accidentally push harmful stereotypes or whatever. obviously not all gay men have gay mannerisms and it might be something lando is insecure about so i would rather not put them on blast.

if it's not a bad thing i may come back and edit this and add them in. idk, let me know i guess? i am still learning american customs.

3. Yuki Tsunoda

this is probably going to be the shortest section (ha).

yuki mostly just makes my radar go off. i don't consume alphatauri content as much, but i know there was a thing with him and pierre that was just crazy last year and the year prior. don't know as much about it as i should haha.

but yeah. yuki just sends my radar into the astral plane (is that a thing? i am doubting myself). if he is not at least bisexual i will eat my own foot.

maybe that one moment between him and michael italiano has just gotten to me, i don't know. i trust in my instincts though.

Honourable Mentions

4. Danny Ric

idk he just gives the vibe! i don't know how to explain my radar. gay people know. i think it is called gaydar.

DR is on it.

5. Carlos Sainz

he is probably on my gaydar the least, but he's still on there. latest vlog he gently combed his finger through ruperts hair. he's probably deeply in love with lando. just little things like that i guess!

6. Oscar Piastri

this may be wishful thinking. i sit in bed at night and pray that he is into men.

that is all! thank you for learning about fruity drivers with me! please do not cancel me if i am doing something politically incorrect! i am still learning!

#f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #lando norris #yuki tsunoda #daniel ricciardo #danny ric #carlos sainz #carlando #oscar piastri #lgbtq

118 notes · View notes

beautifulpersonpeach · 10 months

Note

Hi BPP,

I really enjoy your blog and your level-headedness when it comes to everything surrounding BTS and Jikook. You often post really good takes and answer asks quite comprehensively.

Which is why I'm sending my ask to you regarding that short clip of Jikook at the airport during the baghug.

First off: Jimin seemed to really need that hug, it seems, because he (a) seemed a bit subdued during the walking-in part and (b) ge literally barrelled into Jungkook. There was impact made even tho JK was barely bothered. Maybe that interpretation of desperation instead of affection is what makes me a bit sad about my observation.

That JK did indeed remove Jimin. It's not like similar situations when JK was still a teen - it was rather gentle. From another angle, it looked like Jikook both moved at the same time after that talk with their bodyguard. A simple "okay, now it's time for travel business" motion.

I don't even know why this makes me think so much? Why I circle back to the fact that it wasn't entirely wanted which is apso not true, since JK was going along for the majority of the clip. Even swaying. Especially when we know Jikook are just as close as they've always been. I don't think the physical separation during their individual album releases hurt them, they're too good of friends for that. There are bonds in your life, nothing but an actual intense disagreement can ruin. And didn't we still get Kookie flirting with Jimin, and Jimin joining his golden concert?

I think, whatever they're up to in Tokyo, it will give them a lot of time to spend together. Off-line. Recuperating.

----

I read somewhere that In The Soop was kind of conceptualised to counteract a drifting apart of the members during the pandemic. Maybe Jikook and Hybe came to the conclusion, that with their schedules being what they are, producing a show would be the perfect cover-up for spending time together with the added benefit of having enlistment content. If that's the case, it makes it doubly...interesting let's say, that it's not all four or just the Maknaes or any other combination going places. That no other member has been mentioned in connection to this.

Ask 2:

Idk if this will make sense, I'm the somewhat insecure ask from a few hours ago. Panicking about that dumb airport clip.

Well. I'm not anymore.

Because Jikook are allegedly headed to Sapporo (spelling might be wrong, sorry). The more we learn - even in snippets - about this trip, the more fuzzy my heart feels. Happy, even.

They went to Tokyo as close as they could probably manage to their last trip there, aka the GCF Tokyo anniversary. That last time was a "REAL LOVE" declaration during a time neither were in a really good place. Tokyo was an escape removed from the worries of their life and fame. A snow globe of happiness, you can shake every time your demons get to you. A gift from one person seeing the one always taking care of them falling apart, and deciding to take the weight of their shoulders. It's so fucking beautiful.

And now, after a year of emotional turmoil with their hyungs enlisting, of the physical separation that releasing two incredibly important albums brings, of duties and barely any breaks. Now they go back to Tokyo and Japan just before they have to enlist.

None of this is a coincidence.

To add to that Sapporo. Where it's snowing now. The implications for Jikook are big. We know Jimin loves snow, that JK knows that as much as we do, that watching the first snow together is a superstition for Korean couples. And now Jikook are there, in the first major Japanese city legalising same sex marriage - the city of love. While JK wore a rLOVElution hoodie, a line being dedicated to lgbtqia+ acceptance, just like during his NY outing with Jimin.

I could criticise everyone villifying their bond here, but now I don't want to anymore. Just look at what Jimin and Jungkook get to experience, even if only for a little time, and tell me that it's not the most beautiful thing.

The person having "please love me" tattooed on his body and the person singing "just let me love you". Serendipity and Euphoria. Black and White. Sun and Moon. Poets would weep cause they couldn't write a love this beautiful.

***

Anon,

After you sent in the first ask I started drafting my reply to you (pasted below the asterisk) but left the draft unfinished because I had life to attend to. Then you sent in the second ask, and what you've said in this second ask is so beautiful, I don't want to ruin it with my pontificating. So I'll leave my draft unfinished (I think you eventually answer in the 2nd ask what you're asking in the 1st).

Regardless of anything, jikook have a real connection, a real relationship, and a real history. What exactly that looks like I don't know, but I do know whatever it is, it's real.

Draft:

“I read somewhere that In The Soop was kind of conceptualised to counteract a drifting apart of the members during the pandemic. Maybe Jikook and Hybe came to the conclusion, that with their schedules being what they are, producing a show would be the perfect cover-up for spending time together with the added benefit of having enlistment content.”

Let's not dismiss this right away, because there’s a possibility you're right and this could be true. But I don't see any of this, in my opinion. I don't think this Japan trip is arranged by the company because they're drifting apart, though I agree it's being made for content to keep parts of the fandom engaged. My counterpoint to that though is that if BigHit really was making this just for greenbacks, it would've made more sense for this to be a taekook trip and not jikook - given taekookers are the largest and oldest shippers in the fandom, and this would've been an easy way for BigHit to capitalize on the recent bromance we've seen from them in chapter 2. But it's jikook, and there could be many reasons for why, maybe sometime down the road Tae joins them or we get a similar show with him, but right now, with everything that's led up to now, the easiest explanation for why jikook are going on this trip is because they want to.

And that's good enough for me.

#jikook #jimin #jungkook

43 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 2 years

Text

The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 6

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world where his ex-wife is not the only ‘ex’ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. ✨💖Inspired by and based upon absurdthirst’s Tequila. 💖✨

Rating: Mature, but as always this blog is 18+ Word Count: 15.6k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this series include: divorce, break ups, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption.** Gal pal gossip, tough conversations, a little bit of dirty flirting, and more of Patrick Jane being Patrick Jane. Marcus’s romance barometer is dialed up *high* and we love to see it. Summary: Brunch with the girls, Marcus and Teresa have a heart-to-heart of sorts, and Jane still somehow manages to make himself a nuisance. But it’s your second first date with Marcus, so you’re determined to make it a good one. Notes: I am not gonna lie to y’all...a lot of working on this chapter was just swooning over the restaurant’s menu. I need to get my ass to L’Ardente in DC stat!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5

“There she is!” Is the cry from your friends when they finally spot you across the rooftop of the restaurant where you have done Sunday brunch trivia every week for the last year. There are already mimosas and you can see a plate of cinnamon rolls out on the table which makes you grin.

“Sorry I’m a couple of minutes late.” You’re barely sorry, considering the reason you’re late is Marcus wanted to go for a second round in the shower this morning, but you’ll at least feign an apology.

“Mmmmmhhhmmmm.” There is definitely a devilish grin to your oldest friends’ faces as they pointedly examine you up and down. “That is the look of a woman who isn’t sorry one bit because she was too busy getting dick.” Angela cackles.

“Spill!” Jacqui insists, looking at you with bright eyes. Her own marriage is settled, and very happy, but the giggly giddiness of a new infatuation is so much fun to experience with a friend. “Did you finally hook up with that hot curator from Air and Space?”

“Um…” Sitting down between Silvia and Angela, you glance at your young coworker, only to be relieved when she offers you an encouraging if awkward smile. “Actually?” You have to brace yourself. Angie is going to lose her mind when she finds out. “It’s somebody I used to know. And…didn’t think I would ever see again…”

“Do not tell me that you’ve picked up that clown you told us about in France!” Angela had been upset when you left Marcus but she was your friend and supported you through that time with phone calls, international at times. She hadn’t approved of Henri. “What would he be doing here?”

“I—it’s not Henri.” You shake your head and immediately pick up your menu as though you don’t have the bar’s offerings memorized. As though you aren’t craving their amazing eggs cochon. “It’s…well…my ex.” Silvia only knows who your ex-husband is now because of what’s happened, but you don’t think you have ever actually said his name to Jacqui. Until now, it still hurt too much.

“Marcus!” Angie gasps, aware that you have never called any other man your ex. “You were in bed with your ex-husband?” Her grey eyes blow wide in shock, matching the way her jaw hits the table.

“Surprise?” Your laugh is awkward, embarrassed even though no one here knows about what happened with Silvia but you and her. “He lives in DC now…”

“How in the hell did you run into your ex-husband in D.C.?” Angela demands, her face lighting up in overwhelming happiness. She knew that Marcus was the one for you, even if you had been too stubborn to see it.

“Wait— ex-husband?” Jacqui wrinkles her nose in confusion. “This is a good thing?”

“He stopped by the office the other night. Some kind of case.” Silvia blurts out, seeing the restraint in your happiness written all over your face. She doesn’t want to make more drama by telling everybody that she was the reason you saw him again, but she wants you to be happy if that’s how you actually feel. “Does this mean…are you guys back together?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, reaching over and squeezing Silvia’s hand. “I think so? I hope so.” It’s obvious from the way that you light up at the thought that it’s what you truly want, and your young friend smiles encouragingly before you look back at Jacqui. “It was college. We were just kids and I…I got scared. He’s in the FBI now. Director of his department and everything.”

“So…nothing bad happened?” She asks, still cautious because obviously you don’t divorce someone over nothing.

“Oh no, Marcus worshipped the ground she walked on.” Angela huffs, shaking her head fondly. “Sappy. And it was the relationship to aspire to. I broke up with three different guys because they didn’t treat me half as well.”

“It was my fault,” you tell Jacqui honestly. “Marcus didn’t do anything wrong, I just…we were so young and when he started talking about houses and kids and school districts and 401ks, I just panicked. So like I said…it’s Marc that’s giving me the second chance.” You knew Angie would be excited. She had always thought Marcus was amazing and was legitimately mad at you for a long time after you asked for the divorce. You’re not above beyond admitting she was right. “We’re just…taking things slow right now.”

“Oh my god, sleeping together is slow?” Angela snorts and shakes her head before looking at Jacqui and Silvia. “Although that tracks for them. They slept together the first night they met and were inseparable for the longest time.” She reaches over and takes your hand. “Are you still getting noise complaints? Tell me he didn’t peak in college sexually.”

Your cheeks are burning as you studiously avoid looking at Silvia, but you couldn’t hold your grin in even if you tried. “Definitely did not peak in college.” That’s for goddamn sure. He’s got new tricks and everything. “And uh…I don’t know what the people in my building will think, but he has a nice house and everything so…maybe I should make his neighbors cheesecakes or something as an apology in advance.”

“Damn.” A low whistle comes out of your oldest friend, along with a sly grin. “In college, they were encouraged to not have sleepovers at the frat and sorority houses.” She explains. “Everyone would hear.”

“Everyone was very encouraging when we decided to move off campus.” There’s been so much reminiscing lately, and aside from the guilt it makes you practically giddy to be able to think of the happy times again. You’ll make it up to him. You know you will. You have to.

“You have to tell us how you ended up in bed together again.” She demands, eager for details.

“It wasn’t super dramatic or anything.” You demure as best you can, pausing when you feel your phone go off in your pocket. Expecting a text from Marcus, you instead see Silvia’s name splashed across your screen.

Silvia: It’s okay to be excited <3 We’re okay.

The unexpected sentiment really just shows how mature she is, and you’ll have to make sure that you and she have some time to talk it out on your own, without other friends or coworkers around, but right now you just send back a barrage of hearts as a return message and feel the internal sigh of relief as warmth and giddiness floods your chest. The smile spreading across your face is instant. “We actually…after the thing at the office…we ran into each other on Friday night. I guess neither of us wanted to spend our night at home alone so we both had the idea to go out…and ended up at the same bar.” It feels like a fairy tale, allowing yourself to get excited has you nearly vibrate in your chair. “We had dinner together. And then…I invited him back to my place. I honestly had no clue he’d end up staying over.”

“This is…I still can’t believe that Marcus is here. And you two are rekindling your romance.” Angela sighs wistfully. “It gives me hope that soulmates exist.” She grins at you. “Really hot soulmates that make your legs shake, right?” Her grin grows just a smidgeon. “Like mine.”

"You can't believe it? Imagine how shocked I was." Interrupted momentarily by your table's waiter, you add your order to everyone else's and sit back in your chair after the young man walks away. "It's...surreal. But...kind of wonderful."

The girls all murmur their own agreements, Angela nodding. “I imagine so. Have you two talked?” She asks seriously, sliding her own mimosa over towards you to have some since another round is on its way.

“About what happened?” You nod, grateful to have even a watered-down mimosa when the guilt hits. Someday, you hope, you’ll stop feeling these waves of horrible regret. But that day is not today. “Yeah. We’re talking through things. And we’re, um…we’re going on our first actual date tonight. Dressed up, out on the town, the whole nine yards. I don’t know where yet, but you know Marc. It will be memorable.”

She’s nodding, glancing over at the other two women. “He’s a great guy.” She promises them before she looks back at you. “Honey, I know you. I know you feel guilty, but he’s a big boy.” She reaches over and covers your hand with hers. “If he wants to give you another chance, don’t second guess it. Dive in and enjoy.”

“I’m trying.” She’s your oldest friend - having stuck around through the bullshit and long distance and telling you to your face when she thought you were making a mistake - and you know if Angela thought that pursuing this was a bad idea she would say so. But she’s encouraging and excited for you, so you nod your head and finish the rest of the mimosa she handed you, and try to smile. “I’m not gonna fuck this up twice. I love him too much for that.”

“You always have.” She reminds you, smirking slightly. “Henri had nothing on Marcus and neither did any of those other idiots.” She scoffs. “It’s been obvious that he’s never forgotten you. Just look at the song.”

“Okay.” You huff and puff, looking at her in wonder. “Did everybody know about the song but me?” Jacqui and Silvia both look on in confusion, exchanging bewildered glances before Jacqui also looks to Angela for an answer. “What song?”

Angela snorts, “Of course. Danny - you know, Dan Stevens, he’s the one who arranged to have the song looked at.” She explains to you before she looks over at Jacqui and Silvia. “Do you know that country duo, Dan + Shay?” She asks, making Jacqui frown slightly but Silvia nods. “I do.” She tells Angela. “Well, the song ‘Tequila’ is about our girl right here.” She states proudly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jacqui’s jaw drops, her face drawn in surprise and awe as her attention swings back to you. “It is not?!”

“Wait that’s the song?” You’ve heard it before - it’s on the regular rotation at the coffee shop you frequent, of all places. One of the baristas always seemed to be playing country. It had always twisted your gut with memories before, but now? Now you’re on the verge of tears. “Marcus said he wrote a song but…he didn’t tell me it was that song.”

“Yeah….” Angela bites her lip, giving you a soft smile. “Danny saw it and knew it could be a hit. It summed up his relationship with you perfectly.”

“So Marcus is the reason we never get a pitcher of margaritas when we go out?” Jacqui smirks at you. They’re her favourite drink, so she always just orders for herself even though the other two women love them also. “I’m gonna have to have a little chat with this man.”

You can’t help but laugh, pulling out your phone in your lap again to send off a text after you shake your head at your friend. “I think we can do that now, from time to time. The memories suddenly don’t hurt so much.”

To Marc: You didn’t mention that you sold your song to Danny. Turns out I’ve been listening to it every week for ages. Miss you ❤

******

Marcus is far less relaxed, sitting at his desk, writing down notes and impressions on the case so that he doesn’t miss anything. When his phone buzzes, he picks it up, smiling when he sees that it’s from you.

To ❤ : Miss you too. You didn’t ask. 😇 Enjoy your girl’s day.

From ❤: Angela knew. Because of course she did. Can’t wait for tonight!

The reply text comes through almost right away, telling him that even while you’re with your friends, he’s at the front of your mind. Marcus smiles as he looks down at his phone, opening the emails to reconfirm the reservation he set. He wants to make sure that you enjoy the ‘first date’ with him.

A gentle knock on his office door startled him it off his thoughts, and when he looks up, Teresa is standing in his open doorway awkwardly. “Morning.” She murmurs, holding up the tray of coffees and bag of bakery treats she brought as a peace offering. “Wasn’t sure if you had breakfast yet or not.”

“Come in.” Marcus almost stands up, but he doesn’t. Overthinks it for a moment and wonders if he would stand if she wasn’t his ex-fiancée. And he wouldn’t, so he doesn’t. He does motion her forward and gives a polite smile that would be HR approved. “You didn’t have to do that.”

"Yesterday was tense." She observes, setting the drinks down on his desk and handing him the coffee, keeping the cup of tea for herself. "Consider it a peace offering."

“Tense might be a mild term for it.” Marcus accepts the coffee, opening the lid and noticing that it was exactly how he always took his coffee. She had apparently remembered. “It would have been less so if your husband hadn’t been so...himself.”

“He forgets that not everyone finds him hilarious or ingenious.” Teresa sits carefully on the other side of the desk, smoothing her tunic blouse over her bump as she does. The baby isn’t too active today, thankfully, which means the morning has gone fairly smoothly. “Patrick is…he’s just Patrick. And while I love him, I know he’s not everyone’s cup of tea.” As if to prove the point, she takes the lid off her own cup and swirls the milky liquid around with a stirring stick.

“You could have been honest.” Marcus tells her after a moment. “I would have understood more than most would have.” He would have, that’s the irony. The you-sized hole in his heart had never healed, nor could it have been filled with anyone else.

“I didn’t really know.” Teresa admits, casting a look down at her own belly before looking back up at Marcus. What she put him through…he should despise her. Refuse to help on principle. But Marcus is a better man than that and she knows it. “I knew that I had hesitations, but I didn’t really know what or why until Patrick got on that damn plane.” She tilts her head, almost shaking it at herself and closing her eyes for just a half second. “I’m sorry. For what happened between us. Not that we had something, but…for how I handled it.”

It takes a lot to apologize and now he’s gotten two apologies in the same week from the two most important relationships he’s had. If he were a lesser man, he would see it as him being morally superior in some sense. Being a ‘good guy’ in the way that all men who are not good men claim to be. Teresa doesn’t have to apologize. She’s moved on in every way possible and he’s already helping with her case, so this isn’t some kind of exercising some pent-up guilt. Instead of basking in the apology, Marcus takes a sip of his coffee and nods. “I appreciate that.” His smile is softer this time. “Really. Thank you. Apology accepted. And I apologize for rushing you into things.”

"Apology accepted. Water under the bridge." The smile on her face is genuine as she takes an almond croissant out of the bakery bag that she brought and nudges it toward Marcus. "So...I have to ask. Your ex-wife? Really?" He hadn't talked about the first Mrs. Pike often while they were together, but she had always gotten a sense that she had hurt him. Badly.

“My ex-wife.” There is not the pang of sadness and hurt that had been there before. “It— there’s never been anything like being with her.”

"So you're happy?" He deserves that, after all. To be happy. Someone with as big a heart as Marcus Pike, she wouldn't wish anything else. "I don't mean to pry, I just – if you're happy, then I'm happy for you."

“Honestly?” Marcus bites his lip and looks down into his coffee, thinking about how he had pushed you up against the wall of his shower and made you cry out this morning. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve been this happy.” It’s his turn to give her an apologetic smile. “I think, deep down, it’s always been her.” He knows it’s always been you, but it’s still his ex he’s talking to.

"Then I'm happy for you." There's no point in feeling slightly hurt over not being the one that got away from Marcus when she was the one who made the choice to leave him, so Teresa sits forward with her breakfast and looks over the file on his desk. Learning to read upside down was a fun little trick that Jane taught her. "Notice anything new or interesting this morning?"

The moment seems to be over so Marcus spins the file around so she doesn’t have to strain herself. “Take a look and tell me what you think.” He has always respected Teresa professionally and now is no different.

"That is a lot of different places called Johnson's Ranch." The sheer number of possibilities makes Teresa cringe as she looks up and down the list. "I'll get a list of prior residences for the family and see what we can cross reference. Maybe we can at least narrow it down to a region and then use the pictures to pinpoint location."

“Perhaps it’s a family vacation spot?” Marcus kicks around, leaning back in his chair. “It would make sense that it would be somewhere tied to the family.”

"Could be." Teresa nods slowly, rolling the idea over in her mind. "I'll start with deeds and homesteads and move through rental properties and businesses second. Something of this place has to have survived."

“Could even be a place that was rebranded.” Marcus groans, shaking his head. “This is going to be a miracle to solve before you give birth.”

"Oh god," she laughs at that, huffing at the idea of still being on this case in that many months. "I'll text Patrick and ask him to bring us a map of the US and maybe...three or four different colours of pushpins? We can start mapping out possibilities and colour-coding the locations. It's going to take a while to get through." When she glances up at him, Marcus's brow is furrowed, focused on the list in the folder in front of him. "Tomorrow we'll use physical markers from the pictures to help narrow it down further, and hopefully your— Dr. Pike— will be able to help us figure out some more clues we might have missed."

“She’s good at what she does.” Marcus might have done a little professional snooping at your accolades. “If anyone would be able to help, it would be her.”

"We knew you'd have the right person to bring onto the case." Even Patrick Jane, who wanted to scrub most vestiges of Marcus Pike out of his wife's past, had admitted that he was the man that could help most effectively. "We just...had no idea it would be her."

“The irony.” Marcus can’t help but give a small chuckle. “If we hadn’t divorced, she might not have been where she is now to help. Our lives might have been very different.”

"You might not have been in the FBI at all." She points out, reaching for her tea again. It's particularly soothing today. "Law enforcement wasn't your original idea, if I'm remembering correctly."

“It hadn’t been, but it’s a good thing we are where we are.” Marcus can’t regret everything. He’s done a lot of good, and put some bad people away.

"They say everything happens for a reason." Though she isn't usually the kind of person to use aphorisms for comfort, this particular one is what she's really got to go with at the moment. Because if she hadn't said yes to Marcus, then Patrick might never had gotten the kick in the pants that he needed to tell her how he felt. Which, in turn, left Marcus single again to reunite with his ex-wife. It's all just...complicated. "Let's see what we can get done today. I know you don't want to be sitting here for twelve hours, and we need our expert to get through the detail work. So let's just prep and do some digging through land deeds and family assets today. When Patrick gets here with the map we can start charting things out, and we can all call it a night for dinner."

Nodding, Marcus agrees. “Not exactly the way I wanted to spend a Sunday, but I’m sure you feel the same way.” He snorts. “If you get tired because of the little one, just lay down on the couch behind you.”

"Thanks." He knows she isn't one for complaints or excuses, and that if she lies down it will just be with the file in her lap instead of on the desk in front of her. She doesn't however, miss the way Marcus glances over at his phone and smiles - the lines around his eyes crinkling ever so slightly. "You guys have plans tonight?"

“Dinner.” He nods and looks at his phone again. “She’s at brunch with her friends, but we are having a date tonight.” It’s still slightly surreal, but he can’t wait to see you again.

“Well.” Her own phone goes off - a simple text from husband acknowledging what she’s asked for, and then followed immediately by a picture of a bag of apples. Her current pregnancy craving. It lights her up unapologetically. “We’ll make sure you get to it,” she promises.

“Thanks.” Marcus nods, feeling like the air has been cleared between the two of them and he doesn’t feel like he needs to add anything else. He turns towards the notes and starts pouring over them again. Eager to get done for today and get ready for his date with you.

******

With no instructions except being told to dress up and expect him at six-thirty, you've been excitedly pacing around your apartment for the last ten minutes as you count down to his arrival. The texts back and forth with your sister have been animated, to say the very least, and with Angie's encouragements this morning and Leah's this evening, you're feeling about as dreamy as you have in a long time. A second first date with Marcus. The thing you've been dreaming of for years.

While he rationally knows that it’s a little silly to be this excited about a ‘first date’, he’s grinning as he parks the car. He’s always wanted to do this, from the first time he had really thought about you seriously, which was about day two of knowing you. Marcus wanted to take you out to a dinner he never could have possibly afforded by then. Picking up the gorgeous bouquet of flowers, Marcus exits his car and walks up to your building to hit the button for your apartment. Wanting to do this right.

You grin when the buzzer goes off, knowing he easily could have texted or called, but this is Marcus. He's always been determined to be proper whenever possible. You hit the button on the panel in your hallway to let him up and double check your appearance in the mirror one last time. The heavy thumping your heart is doing is just as eager as the first time he came to pick you up - though your apartment and sorority house are worlds apart.

It was probably about a week after the first party that Marcus had taken you out on the first official date of your relationship. Like you hadn’t been sleeping together for a solid week. He had taken you to Sonic for a burger and a grape slushie. All he could afford at the time, but he had wanted to do more. Always wanted to do more, and now - he could. Once he makes it to your floor, he strides down the hallway with confidence, a spring to his step that has more to do with seeing you than anything else and knocks quickly.

There isn't an ounce of shame in how fast you open the door. You're not going to pretend like you weren't right in the hallway when you were, but it stops mattering the instant you open the door. All dressed up in a perfectly cut suit looking like a dream, Marcus is holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers - he remembered, you sigh inwardly - with a bright smile on his face. "Hey love." The sight of him takes your breath away, and you really can't tell if you gasp or not before getting your composure back. "Do you want to come in for a minute?"

“Sure.” Marcus steps inside and offers you the bouquet. “I know you have a vase or ten to put these in.” He remembers how you used to admire the beautiful vases when you were window shopping. His grandmother had given the two of you a beautiful crystal vase when you had gotten married, and he wonders what happened to it.

“It’s an addiction,” you admit, cheeks heating a little but not really embarrassed. The soft pink and white ranunculus flowers deserve the best vase you have, especially because they’re from him. From the side cupboard in your kitchen, you dig through the smaller and more everyday vases you’ve collected over the years to come out with one made of gorgeous cut crystal. “You might recognize this one…” There were a few tokens that had gone with you to your new life, unable to completely let go of the one you had built with Marcus. Your wedding gift from his grandmother was one of them.

“I had just thought about that vase.” Marcus admits, grinning as he watches you unwrap the band from the flowers and move over to the sink to put a few inches of water in the bottom of the vase. There’s no hurt feelings over it, he had told you to take whatever you wanted when you were packing up, and he’s happy to see that you kept it. “It’s perfect, I think.” He hums. “Very fitting.”

“I feel very coordinated.” The flowers embroidered on the handkerchief hem of your black dress dance in the overhead lights from the kitchen as you set the vase in the center of your table and turn back to him. “What do you think? Is this appropriate for the mystery date?”

“Very appropriate.” Marcus agrees, stepping back slightly and dragging his eyes from head to toe. If it weren’t for the fact that he wants this date, he would be pulling you back towards your bedroom in a heartbeat.

“Later.” You point a finger at him and grin, being well-acquainted with that look in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure you’ll like what’s under the dress, too.”

“Damnit.” Marcus huffs, although he doesn’t mean it for a second. “Sonic doesn’t have reservations.” He’s done this to himself but he also knows you will be very happy with tonight.

“Sonic, huh?” Your eyebrow ticks up at him as you pick up your purse and open the door again. “Are we having a repeat first date?” That would be awfully sentimental and fairly on brand for the two of you.

“While I still say that the grape slushie is the best flavor, no.” Marcus chuckles and steps outside so you can close up your apartment. “I made reservations for us at L’Ardente for 7 o’clock.”

“L’Ardente?” The impressed noise you make has him puffing up slightly. “Well aren’t we very fancy tonight.” This is him, though, too a tee. Even when you were scraping by on pennies, he was trying to think of ways to make everything the nicest possible version of whatever DIY you could afford.

“Followed by drinks and dancing at Sax.” Marcus adds as you slip your keys into your purse and he takes your hand. “If you’re up for that after we try the forty-layer lasagna.”

“Dinner, drinks, and dancing?” Leaning into his side a little when you get into the elevator, you lend him a dreamy grin. “Cary Grant has nothing on Marcus Pike.”

“The experience I wanted to give you so many years ago.” He had, to an extent. Dinner was fast food or whatever you could afford at the time. Drinks and dancing was shots of tequila and parties on campus, but this is more mature. The way he had always imagined taking you for an anniversary dinner ten years down the road, still having that spark between you. “Now I get to.”

“You know I loved every date you ever took me on.” The boy he was would be so proud of the man he’s become, and it makes your heart swell knowing that you had been any part of it - though you push away the ache of knowing you could have been there for everything.

“I loved them too, but I always imagined this in our future.” He admits, the doors opening and both of you step out into the small atrium of the apartment building and walk by the post boxes to the front door. He had parked on the street in the ten minute parking so he could bundle you into the car and hurry off. “When we were ‘old and boring.” He teases.

“It’s a privilege to get to be old and boring with you.” You promise him, waving to your doorman on your way out of the building.

Marcus laughs as he opens the door to let you get in the passenger seat. “You mean we aren’t now?” He asks, winking at you as he closes the door to round the hood to slide in beside you.

“Maybe a little.” When he slips into the driver’s seat beside you, you lend him a grin. “If we tried partying like that again in our thirties we’d break something.”

“Hangovers.” Marcus moans. “Who knew they would get so fucking bad?” He asks rhetorically.

“I swear it’s why I’m pickier about what I drink now.” Years ago, the cheapest liquor in the world didn’t bother you. Now your home bar is carefully stocked with pricey splurges that craft beautiful cocktails. “If I’m going to deal with a hangover, I want it to be worth it.”

“Exactly. It’s why I try not to get trashed anymore unless it’s a special occasion.” Marcus jokes.

“And we have the dreaded work tomorrow.” Not that either of you dread your jobs, but it makes you both smile and you slip your hand into his as he steers the car into the flow of traffic. “How was today, by the way?”

“It was…interesting.” Marcus tells you, shrugging slightly. “Apparently when it comes to apologies from exes, when it rains - it pours.” He chuckles quietly. “Teresa wanted to clear the air.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Not that he deserves apologies from multiple people, but that things are getting cleared up. Making things less awkward will be good for everyone. “I take it her husband was not a part of that conversation? He doesn’t seem like the apologizing type.”

“No, he didn’t come for the apology tour.” He doesn’t really care, it’s water under the bridge. “But I also had to apologize to her too.”

“What for?” The only account of their relationship that you’ve heard places the end result squarely in Teresa Jane’s lap, but things are never that black and white in real life.

“Because while I cared for her…” he reaches over and takes your hand to bring it up to his lips to kiss it softly. “I was running away from the fact that she wasn’t you. And that there was still something missing because she wasn’t you.”

“I love you, too.” There really isn’t any escape to it - not that you want one. Not at all.

That sugary warmth that settles over him every time you say those words descends again and he looks over at you and smiles. “Good to know.”

“So…” You squeeze his hand and thread your fingers together easily. “Do you happen to remember my friend Angela? She was my roommate freshman year - black hair, grey eyes, supermodel tall?”

“Angela….” Marcus frowns for a second. “Angie Carter?” He nods. “Yeah. I hear she still keeps in touch with a lot of our old friend group. Marcus talked to some of them, but he had made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about you. It had been too painful. They had all respected it for the most part, obviously why he didn’t know you were in D.C.

“Angie Carter-Kim, now. She got married about a year ago to one of the other lawyers at her firm. But yes, same Angie.” The streets zip by as he drives steadily through traffic, turning up the length of Massachusetts Avenue toward the restaurant. “She’s extremely excited to hear we’re…doing this. She was over the moon at brunch.”

“She’s in D.C.?” Marcus isn’t surprised, Angie was always very driven and interested in the political side of the law, but it’s good to know that you have old friends who knew him as well as both of you when you were together. “That’s good that I have one person’s approval.”

“She wants to have us over for dinner so you can meet Harry, so I told her I would ask.” Truth be told, doing things like suggesting double dates with friends and giggling over Marcus at brunch made you feel so comfortable today.

"We can do that." Marcus agrees, knowing that it would be nice to have another person that wasn't work related that he knows in D.C. Especially since you were still close to her. "Tell her that we will set something up." It might be after the case, considering he doesn't know what is going to happen, but it would be something to look forward to.

“You’ll like Harry. He absolutely thinks the world of Angie and treats her like a goddess.” Just as she had said this morning - she didn’t settle for anything less after seeing the way Marcus had treated you. Which really should have proved a point to you, but hindsight is 20/20.

"She deserves someone like that. From what I remember she always had a good head on her shoulders. Even with us being dumb kids." Marcus hates letting go of your hand, but it's necessary to turn. "It'll be nice to catch up with her and meet her husband."

The restaurant has a valet, of course, and you slip out of Marcus’s plush SUV onto the sidewalk to wait for him. It’s silly - childish even - to feel like the few moments it takes him to join you is longer than you want to be apart, but when he steps up beside you and puts a hand in the small of your back to guide you into the restaurant, you’re home again just from his touch.

“I was thinking Le Diplomat, but decided that you might have been there and wanted to see what this place was about.” He murmurs as you both walk into the swanky restaurant and over to the sleek host stand. “Reservation for Pike.”

“Ah, of course.” The host smiles warmly. “Right this way, Mr. Pike. Mrs. Pike.” The table you’re led to is secluded, and the restaurant’s mood lighting is fairly obvious but not in a bad way. It’s inviting and romantic, which are perfect for tonight.

“That might be something you haven’t heard in a while.” Marcus is the one who holds out your seat for you, always feeling like the little gestures matter. “Being called missus rather than doctor.”

“I don’t mind.” It’s the first time in years you haven’t corrected the person, actually, and you love the way it feels, even if it’s not technically correct. “If you don’t, I mean.”

“I don’t mind it.” He admits softly as he pushes you in and rounds the table so he can sit down across from you. The candlelight is between you and he smiles as the menus are handed to you.

The host says nothing but to let you know your waiter will be over in a moment before he retreats, but you swear you don’t hear a word. Your focus is entirely on Marcus. On being with him again. “Is it really sappy if I tell you I’m a little misty about this whole thing?” You have to laugh at yourself a little, or at least have a sense of humor about it.

“I’ve been looking forward to tonight all day.” Marcus confesses with a laugh of his own. “I left the office early because I couldn’t get any more work done.”

"Angie came back to my apartment with me to help me pick out an outfit." It's such a silly thing, but you had been so excited and so nervous that your friend had jumped at the chance to do something so nostalgic as help you get ready for a date. "I almost had to remove her bodily from my apartment. I think she wanted to hang out long enough to see you."

“It good that she doesn’t hate me.” There had been a few of your sorority sisters that had been convinced that the story you had told your friends wasn’t true. That he had to have done something. It wasn’t something he had told you about, but it had been good that he hadn’t been on the market for dating for a long time because the well had been poisoned.

"She absolutely doesn't." You can promise him that with absolute certainty. "I'm the one she was pissed at, and rightfully so. She never approved of what I did."

"She shouldn't have been mad at you." Marcus shakes his head and frowns slightly. "You— you were doing what you thought was right, I know that you never meant to hurt me or yourself."

"I was an idiot, and she told me as much." There's nothing to do about it now but shrug, and you reach across the table to squeeze Marcus's hand. "Either way, I'm glad to be us again. Even if it took a while to get here."

"Me too." Sending you a small wink, Marcus wants to shift the topic of dinner. He doesn't want this to be a dinner of regrets, this is your new beginning together and he wants this to be positive. "Now, let's figure out what we are going to share for dinner." He teases. "Because I know we are going to steal bites."

"I don't know, but I think I heard something about a forty-layer lasagna?" You waggle your eyebrows at him, knowing how much he loves lasagna in absolutely any form. "So I think the question is what am I going to get that you can steal a taste of?"

"I am honestly trying to decide if you are going to choose the Duck Hunt or the Venetian Rosotto." He hums as he looks over the menu. "Duck ravioli and foie gras or riced calamari and king crab?" He asks teasingly. "Or do you want the Vitello Parmigiana? Stir things up with veal?"

"Oh, come on now." The menu is expansive and expensive, and you shoot Marcus a smirk. "The duck ravioli is under small plates, you don't think I would ever pass up duck as an appetizer in any universe, do you?" You had never had it before the very first fancy restaurant that his parents took the two of you out to when he brought you home to them, and it had been your favourite fancy food ever since.

"Then we split the Duck Hunt for an appetizer and then you order what you want." He sends you a small wink. By 'share' he means he will take one bite and then let you have the rest of it. "And we order a bottle of Krug to wash it down with. I think champagne is appropriate tonight."

"Krug?" One eyebrow ticks up at him from where you had been looking at the menu and your smirk turns to a glowing, slightly dopey looking smile that lights your whole face up. "If you want to celebrate, who am I to disagree? Just as long as you let me spoil you the same way from time to time."

He rolls his eyes at you, knowing it will be a debate later on down the road but he's happy he's going to get his way for now. "Let me do this tonight, okay?" He asks softly, wanting it to be a night you remember forever.

"As long as it makes you happy, baby." You really would give him anything. As long as it's within your power, you would hand over your whole life to make him happy. A bottle of champagne and a fancy dinner are the least of it.

It will, it will be the fulfillment of a promise he made to himself a long time ago. Nodding, he winks at you again. “I’ll make sure that I thank you for this later.” He promises huskily.

With all the stops he's pulling out, you should be the one thanking him, but you keep your mouth shut when the waiter comes over to take your order. Marcus orders the bottle and the first course and the waiter is gone again in a polite flash.

“Now...if we can fit in dessert, what would you want?” He asks, smirking at the dessert menu.

You hum like there isn't an absolutely obvious choice, if you can even make it that far into the night. "If we make it through two courses of pasta without bursting, there is a thirteen-layer chocolate cake that I think I might build a shrine to if it turns out to be as good as it sounds."

“You always choose chocolate.” He muses, smiling fondly at the memories of you thanking him profusely for the little Dove chocolates he would bring you when he had the chance.

"It was a miracle we didn't end up with a chocolate wedding cake." The decision had been close, but the beautiful strawberry and cream cake had been delicious. "We don't have to get chocolate cake, honey. It just sounds good."

“We can always get a slice to take home.” The mere mention of a wedding cake has him almost jumping to promise that the next one will be chocolate. To plan, to map out the future with you. Instead, he looks up at you to see if you agree. “Chocolate is perfect.”

"Marc..." You tilt your head and lean your chin on your other hand, trying to hold in the beaming smile that it threatening to crack the surface. "That's not what you were going to say first."

“And how would you know that?” His brow arches up playfully and he leans in, watching the candlelight dance in your eyes.

"You clench your jaw when you second-guess yourself." It's been his tell for his whole life, apparently, but the way he's looking at you is almost entirely distracting you from teasing him. "Your mother told me about that one."

“Damn.” He rolls his eyes slightly in good fun, and shakes his head. “Betrayed by my own mother.”

"What were you going to say?" If he really doesn't want to tell you then you won't push, but you don't want him to hold back. If either of you is tiptoeing on eggshells then you're only going to add to the communication problems down the line.

The answer is delayed by the return of the bustling waiter with a gorgeous bottle of Krug, along with a bucket to be placed on the table for easy access. Marcus leans back as the bottle is uncorked after he approves of it and two glasses of frothy champagne are poured. He nods his thanks as decides to answer you truthfully as the waiter rushes off. “I was going to promise you that your next wedding cake could be chocolate.” He admits as he picks up the thin stemmed glass. “To new beginnings.” He offers, giving you a chance to just ignore his comment if you wished to.

“New beginnings.” It’s a beautiful sentiment, and you tap the rim of your glass against his before taking your first sip. The crisp, bubbly liquid cools its way down your throat before it starts to warm you, and you hum at the sensation. “And I agree to a chocolate wedding cake only if we supplement it with fruit. Like those chocolate oranges you love at Christmas.”

Your comment makes him freeze. For a moment his entire system seems to shut down and reboot before he manages to smile at you. “You remembered those things?” He asks with a small chuckle.

“Of course I do.” How could you forget the little things that make him unique? They’re the things that make up the man you’ve loved for your entire adult life. “And I also remember that you like hot fudge on raspberry ice cream, and chocolate covered strawberries. So the pattern is unmistakable.”

“So we could always have chocolate dipped fruit as garnish around the cake.” He smiles, beams, at the fact that you knew him so well.

"We absolutely could." Any amount of dreaming from him has your insides twisting and filling with glee. "A piece of chocolate dipped fruit with every slice of cake. That would be gorgeous."

There’s a tiny portion of him that breathes a sigh of relief when he doesn’t see you hesitating or holding back. He knows what you said, but it’s hard to readjust after twelve years of believing he had pushed you away because of his need to give you everything. “Chocolate covered dehydrated raspberries are a current obsession of mine.” He admits with a grin. “There’s a little sweet shop around the corner from the Hoover building that sells all kinds of things like that.”

“We’ll have to go by sometime after work.” It’s pure encouragement, at least to you, when his shoulders drop ever so slightly and the warmth in his cheeks rises. Marcus without dreams isn’t Marcus at all, and you want to give him back that sweetness and joyfulness more than anything. “I want to share all of our new favorite things.”

“You would like it. They have all kinds of chocolate covered things.” He hums. Before, he had avoided thinking about you in there, but he knows you would like the chocolate covered rice crispy treats.

“Chocolate-covered-everything is my favorite everything.” He remembers that, apparently, and it makes you smile in the most pleased, adored kind of way possible. “I keep a container of chocolate covered sunflower seeds on my desk and I know it sounds weird, but they have a little candy coating on them and it’s the perfect combination of sweet and salt.”

“That sounds good, not weird.” He huffs. “Like a chocolate covered cashew or peanuts. But have you had a chocolate covered gummy bear?” He asks, raising a brow at you.

“Of course I have.” The look on his face is like he’s trying to keep himself from being positively giddy, and it makes your chest tighten with happiness to see him so relaxed again. “What do you think I put on my ice cream?”

“They are amazing. And I bet they are even better when chilled.” Marcus bobbles his head in agreement.

“I’ll build you a little chocolate-covered-gummy-bear scene on top of a cheesecake sometime.” You shoot him a grin and sip your champagne.

“What about in a cheesecake?” He tilts his head and considers it, looking at you for confirmation or disagreement with his idea. You love to bake, he could make cookies the density of hockey pucks.

“I bet that would work in a no-bake Cheesecake.” The idea is just silly enough to work and you stifle a giggle. “Now I have to try it.”

“Oh nooo.” Marcus groans, rolling his eyes. “You have to test something and I’ll be forced to try it.” He sarcastically tosses out. “What ever will I do?” He had always been willing to be your taste tester and had loved it.

“You’ll be at the gym more,” you snort, grinning and giddy at the lighthearted tone the night has taken. “It’s harder to just fuck away the calories than it used to be.”

“That’s way more fun than fucking running on a treadmill.” Marcus grumbles, sending you a small wink right before the waiter comes back with the appetizer for you to share.

I know says the twisted smirk on your lips, but you behave yourself with the waiter approaching.

The plating is beautiful and the smell makes his mouth water as he looks at the ravioli and foie gras. “This will be amazing.” He nods his thanks to the waiter and looks back over at you. “Well? Shall we try it?”

It tastes even better than it looks, which should be impossible, and the two of you dive back in for second and third bites with record speed so that it takes almost no time for the little plate to empty. You’d be mad that it’s gone except that it bodes such wonderful things to come. “Oh my god,” you moan softly, giggling happily. “That was insane.”

“Yes it was. And that forty-layer lasagna is going to be mouthwatering.” Marcus hums, sure that this place will quickly become a favorite. Just maybe not with the expensive champagne. “Have you decided what entree you are getting?”

“I’m torn between the Campanelle Nere and the carbonara they have listed.” Having told the waiter that you were in no rush, he had excused himself after your appetizer without taking your entree order. The night’s rhythm and theme are indulgence, so neither you nor Marcus has any intention of rushing. If you’re still dancing the night away after midnight, you won’t be surprised. Well… you might be surprised that you’re still awake, but not that you’re enjoying yourself.

“Ohhh pulling out the out of left field choices.” He teases, grinning at you and reaching for the champagne bottle to top off your glasses.

“It’s a special occasion,” you reason, laughing at his teasing tone. “I figured why do anything ordinary?”

Marcus grins. “So order both.” He suggests indulgently. “The leftovers can always be our midnight snack after we get home from dancing and…working out.”

You practically snort at the way his eyebrows lift with the suggestion, barely able to muffle it when the waiter returns to take your dinner order. Campanelle nere for now - carbonara to go. And it’s all you can do not to snicker behind the falsely dainty hand you’re holding in front of your mouth.

Marcus grins, ordering the lasagna with the short rib meat and hands his menu to the waiter. “Thank you, we just have…big appetites.” He offers, unrepentant at the double entendre in the statement.

The whole meal is as exquisite as that first plate, and half the slice of gorgeous chocolate cake is packed away in a bag with your pasta to be brought back to whoever’s house you end up at after tonight’s adventure is over. There doesn’t seem to be any question of the fact that you’ll be spending the night together, though, which sends a familiar thrill up your spine as Marcus leads you out of the restaurant. Yes, you’ve both grown up, but you’re still fundamentally the same people that you were the first time you had a first date — and those people are crazy about each other.

“Now, do we head to Sax now, or do we stop somewhere else for drink first?” He asks, trailing his fingers up and down your back as he asks what you want to do. Marcus of old would have planned everything down to the minute and hated straying from the plan, but he wants you to enjoy tonight fully.

“Let’s go to Sax.” Leaning into him on the sidewalk, you breathe in his cologne and sigh inwardly. There’s a comfort to this man that has not diminished with time, and it makes you so happy. “We can sit and scope the place out before we’re ready to dance.”

“There is bottle service there as well.” He points out, digging out his valet fob to give to the driver at the stand.

“Of course there is.” You raise your joined hands to leave a kiss on his warm skin. “It’s perfect, baby. Just a little over the top, but right from the heart. That’s the way you love, and I love you for it.”

He hums, warmed by the sentiment and he tugs you closer as the two of you wait for the car to be brought around.

The drive between places is only a few minutes and there’s another valet at the ready as you step out onto the sidewalk to wait for Marcus again while you take in the opulence of the club in front of you. It looks moody inside, dark and romantic and seductive - with jazz playing loudly and raucous laughter from the countless patrons already inside.

“Did you know that this is a restaurant most of the time?” Marcus asks as the two of you scout out a booth to snag for your private use. “They convert it into this place on the weekends.”

“We’ll have to come back for dinner some night.” It’s so easy to curl into his side when one of the waitresses shows you a clear table and sashays away with a promise to be right back.

“That sounds good to me.” The atmosphere is smokey, despite there being none on the air. The feel of it seems like you might have stepped back in time to war-time dances with GIs home from the front line. Marcus picks up the menu and hums. “What are you feeling now, baby?”

"Little bit turned on." You laugh, knowing that that wasn't the question he was asking. "Are we too adult to order a bottle of tequila?" It would be symbolically appropriate, but one of you does have to drive home tonight. And you both have to work tomorrow. So it might not exactly be safe.

“Do you want to order a bottle of Tequila?” He asks, arching a brow at you in surprise. A shot the other day was almost required, but he didn’t want to you to feel like it was a must.

"The only reason I stopped drinking tequila was because it made me miss you." That much, at least, is completely true. But you still tilt your head at him and smile. "But we also have to work tomorrow. So maybe we should stick to wine?" If he wants to reminisce over a bottle of tequila you'll join him in a heartbeat. You just don't want to pressure him.

Marcus smirks and looks back down at the menu. “I think we should do it. Our first date included tequila too.”

"We are tequila people, it seems." When you nod to the menu, you lean over a little and press a kiss to his cheek. "Let's do it, baby."

“We can have that hungover shower together in the morning.” A place like this was no stage for body shots, but Marcus orders a bottle of Don Julio when the waitress returns. Along with a couple of waters to make sure you don’t get too wasted.

"We used to be really good at those." Standing under a screaming hot shower with your arms around each other was a Monday morning special back in the day. "I bet we can get it back. Hangover shower, a gallon of coffee, and a stack of pancakes and bacon."

“Blueberry?” Marcus asks hopefully, loving blueberry pancakes when he feels like day old, dried up dog shit after too much drinking.

"Blueberry." You nod with authority. His smile is so soft and so genuine that you can just feel your heart bursting in your chest. "If you don't already have a favourite diner, there's one by my office."

“You always knew the good places for pancakes.” He agrees, nodding. “So I guess we just need to figure out which bed we are pouring ourselves into tonight.”

"Hmmm..." Even though the answer is easy, you tap your chin like it's something ancient philosophers might have muddled over for centuries. "Well. I'm thinking it's gonna be the place where we both have clothes. Which is your house."

“Maybe one day….” Marcus leans in and kisses the finger on your chin. “It can be called ‘our house’?” He asks softly. “Not now, I mean, but one day?”

"I have..." It takes a second to do the math, but the proximity of him makes you fuzzy and warm. "A little less than four months left on my lease. Is that too soon?" The annual re-signing of your lease isn't a bad thing, but you do want it to be your house together as much as you want to wake up beside him tomorrow and the next day, and the day after that.

“I think four months is a good time to decide if we are ready to move to the next step, don’t you?” Marcus asks. He would say tomorrow, but he knows that’s not rational.

"I honestly don't think we're going to spend too much time apart over the next four months." Maybe it's speculative, or just wishful thinking, but the flushed warmth under your skin is as honest as anything you've felt in a very long time. "But it sounds like a good amount of time for an official decision."

“Of course, we should probably make the decision before the last minute.” He teases and winks at you. “I’ll make you sign a lease if it makes you feel better.”

The second you open your mouth you shut it again, worried about pushing him or making him uncomfortable. "I don't need you to make a fakey lease for me," you tell him finally, nesting a little closer into his side. "But you do have to let me help with the bills."

“Groceries….” Marcus compromises. “And whatever else you want. How about that?” It was crazy to talk about combining finances, and he doesn’t want you to do that if you don’t want to, but one day you will have to have that talk.

"Utilities," you bargain when he puts his arm around you. "At the very least. We both make good money now, love. It's got to be equal somehow. A life shared, ya know?"

“We can talk about it when you— we decide what we want to do.” Marcus promises, taking your hand and kissing the fingertips of each finger.

"Can I tell you what my first thought was?" Tipping your head back lets you catch his eyes and you swallow down some nerves in an effort to be completely honest with him. Honesty is the thing that you're working on harder than anything else. You can't hold back this time. "When you said our house?"

“You can tell me anything.” Marcus tells himself that the two of you should talk often. Honestly and openness will go a long way. Even if it’s not exactly what he wants to hear.

“I was thinking…” It makes you sniffle a little, but your smile is beaming. “About how many firsts we’ll get to have there.” The specific image in your mind was domestic as hell - a scene of you and Marcus decorating for a kid’s birthday party. How excited and proud he would be every single year. “Including coming home from our first honeymoon, because we’re finally going to take one. But…I thought about how perfect it will be for parties.” You grin, squeezing his fingers a little in yours. “Especially kids’ birthday parties.”

Marcus closes his eyes for a moment, letting your dreams and ideas just seep into his soul. It's what he's always wanted with you, twelve years ago it had been his goal and he had thought he was going to have to live it with someone else. Now you are here and offering it to him again. Eyes still closed, he nods, almost ready to cry. "Yeah."

“Hey, hey.” You lean over to kiss his cheek and hold him a little tighter to your side. “Was that too much?”

"No." His denial is immediate, eyes flying open to lock onto yours. "No, I just— it's that I never imagined that I would be able to dream about that with you." He admits softly. "Just- just absorbing it. It's good, I promise."

“Okay.” Your voice stays soft and encouraging when the waitress comes back to deliver the bottle Marcus ordered along with a small but stylish tray of appropriate mixers, salt, and lime slices. You thank her and pass along an extra tip, but never take your real focus off of Marcus. “If you had said four months was too long, I would have agreed with you, for the record.”

"Baby....I'm trying not to rush you." He almost pleads with you to understand. "I just— I want you to set the pace this time."

"I know, baby. And I'm saying that my pace might be a little bit faster than what you expect." You set the bottle in front of him and pick up two shot glasses, wanting to bring the mood of the night back to something joyful rather than fretting. "Come on. Let's have a couple of drinks and dance. That's what we came here to do, right?"

He can agree to that. The last thing he wants to do is to turn this into another angsty debate about the future. “To the Tequila that brought us together.” Marcus offers taking one shot from you and holding it up.

"To second chances." The rims of your shot glasses tap together with a crystal clear tnk and you share a grin, lifting your other hand to cheekily offer him the salt you sprinkled on your skin.

Marcus keeps his eyes on yours, smirking as he leans down and laps at the salt with a slow drag if his tongue before he straightens up and tosses down the shot of tequila before reaching for his lime. “Still better off your tits.” He decides.

"Well yeah." And thanks to that comment as well as his unyielding eye contact, you're about ready to jump him right there in your booth. "You like everything better when my tits are involved."

“They are great tits. We could always take the bottle home.” Marcus coos, cock twitching in his pants. “Lick salt off your pussy and tequila off your tits.”

"Fuck, Marc." His name comes out in a whine and you pout at him as dramatically as possible. "You're gonna kill me."

He chuckles, smug in the feeling of you wanting him right now. “Drink your shot, baby.” He nods towards your drink. “I want to dance with my wife.” It slips out of his mouth before he can change his words, because it was what was running through his mind.

“Mmm.” You could tease him for it. For the slip of the tongue and how honest it is. But it fills you with such tangible joy that all you can do to keep from throwing your arms around him is hum and murmur: “I think I can arrange that.” Before taking your own shot with the salt ready and waiting on his hand.

There is a filthiness in the way your tongue flicks against his skin, making him groan quietly and shift in his seat. “Fuck.” He pants out quietly, his mind going extremely x-rated again.

“That’s what happens when you play with fire, Pike.” The wink you aim at him is unmistakable and devious, and you’re already sliding out of the booth when he groans in protest. “Come on, handsome. Dance with me.”

He lets you pull him out of the booth, standing up and letting you lead him to the floor. If he wasn’t an FBI department director, he would be dragging you to the bathroom to see about recreating a club quickie. He doesn’t think his boss would approve of the scandal.

The band on stage is playing something slow and sultry, the last strains of a love song cast out over the crowd as you step out together. You’re barely paying attention to what the song is, though, with Marcus’s hand tangled in yours and the notes morphing into something more upbeat. Less seductive but no less romantic. A very good combination for a second chance at a first dance.

Holding you close, Marcus soaks in the atmosphere and closes his eyes with a sigh. Everything is perfect, stars aligned in the skies, and he wants to live in this moment.

The Postmodern Jukebox-esque band on stage croons on, but your focus is entirely on Marcus. The way he cradles you close is near reverent and you keep close like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you move away even a fraction of an inch.

The two of you had danced before. A lot of it had been the normal grinding on each other and used as foreplay. This was almost as intimate and twice as romantic. He turns and presses his lips to your temple and sighs softly. "I love you." He promises, lips near your ear.

“I love you.” Three words. Three tiny syllables. But enough meaning to shake you down to your very core. To feel like you’re being broken down and rebuilt every time he says it, and every time you say it back.

Marcus closes his eyes, resting his head against yours and keeps you swaying with him to the rhythm of the song. Lost in the little bubble of a world around just the two of you. Not even caring about anyone else on the dance floor.

It’s your own little world, being caught up in Marcus’s arms like this. No one else exists and the music playing all around you might just as easily have been the radio in the living room of your little apartment off campus where you liked to dance barefoot and squish your toes into the carpet. If you can manage to remember a single one of these songs beyond the rhythm of his beating heart, you’ll make sure you dance to every single one of them again when you marry him again.

Soon, the need for a drink, Tequila or water, makes him pull away and kiss you once more before guiding you off the floor. “We need a drink.” He murmurs when you give him a doe eyed pout.

“Okaaaay.” He’s on point, as always. You just hadn’t realized you were thirsty because you’re so wonderfully distracted. “Should we mix up something fun this time?”

“What do you have in mind?” Marcus asks, intrigued by your idea of fun now. Wanting to see what it consists of.

“Apparently the best kind of Dirty Shirley is one made with tequila.” Or so you had been told many times over, when Jacqui was trying to get you to dress-up your mocktail on nights you didn’t necessarily feel like drinking. “My friend swears by them.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those.” Marcus knows that after this drink, he will need to cut himself off or call an Uber. “Let’s try it.”

When you slip into the booth you pull Marcus after you, not wanting to be even a few feet away from him. The things on the tray in front of you are enticing, but not as enticing as he is, and the tequila will absolutely wait while you press your lips to his in the moody darkness of your private booth.

He’s surprised when you pull him to you. Not because kisses have been few and far between, but because of the urgency behind it. Slightly desperate and feeling like those early make out sessions when you first got together, Marcus crushes you against him with a moan.

Once, you absolutely would have climbed into his lap and completely blocked out the world. Right now there is something about the moment that feels invariably nostalgic and at the same time like you're clinging to the future. Each little sound that pours from one of you threatens to drown the other but it only makes you work harder, encouraged by the tight grip of his hands as he drags you close and the way your fingers bite into him to keep him pressed against you.

The whispering that is occurring to just the left side of the booth shouldn’t capture his attention. And it doesn’t, not when all he can focus on is the way your moan vibrates across your tongue to his. Not until there is a very pointed voice. “See? I told you he would choose this place after dinner.” Marcus’s eyes spring open and he freezes as the booth cushion depresses as someone slides into the bench seating. “Ohhh Tequila. I’d love a shot but we should get Teresa some water, huh?”

Fuck. Marcus cannot believe that Patrick fucking Jane is now interrupting his date with you.

You feel Marcus freeze against you before anything else registers, and a whine of protest is halfway past your lips when you open your eyes to see all the colour drain from his face. It’s another split second after that that you recognize another voice - and it takes everything you’ve got not to curse him out for interrupting. “You have got to be kidding me.” Mumbling under your breath, you try to rearrange your face into something less murderous before you turn around. “Well this is certainly a surprise,” you bite out, hoping you sound more surprised than angry.

For her part, Teresa is mortified. Half embarrassed at the way her husband is proving himself to the biggest asshole and half embarrassed that a man she used to sleep with was very enthusiastically making out with his ex-wife. “Patrick – let’s go!” She hisses, pulling on his arm before she throws you an apologetic look. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know he was – was— was—”

“Planning on crashing and ruining my plans with my wife?” Marcus fills in for her, finally able to speak again.

“Oo! Have we already gotten rid of the ex part of that title?” Patrick is already flagging down your waitress to request a bottle of water, acting like he’s crashed your book club instead of your foreplay.

“What are you doing here?”

“Patrick, let’s go.”

Marcus and Teresa speak at the same time, both of them sounding exasperated with the same man who is helping himself to the bottle of Don Julio on the table.

“He’s keeping tabs on us.” One of your eyebrows ticks up at Patrick Jane and dares him to say otherwise. To contradict you or play innocent. But this isn’t the first time you’ve met a man like Patrick Jane - and unfortunately it won’t be the last. “God forbid our reunion be more romantic or a better story than how he leapt onto the plane to bear his heart to the fair maiden and win her love away from the invader.” It would make you furious if it didn’t also make you feel sad for him. What a small, scared man he must be for that to be true. “Since he intended to gloat about his marriage and his growing family and can’t do that now that he found you happy, he had to think of a different way to feel superior.”

“That’s not—” Patrick frowns and shakes his head. “That’s not true. I—” He huffs. “I saw Marcus’s ideas written down in his office and it seemed like a good idea.” He admits. “Something better than sitting in the hotel room.”

“And you intentionally chose the one you thought was most likely to interrupt them?” Teresa sighs, shaking her head a little, but her fondness for her husband pushes through the annoyance and embarrassment. “This is his way of saying we should all go out together. By just putting us all in the same place.”

Marcus looks over at you, frustrated but wanting to see your thoughts on the situation before he says anything. Being cockblocked by your current boyfriend's ex-fiancée's husband wasn't exactly on your to-do list for today, but you take a deep breath to make sure you don't vent your frustration directly at Patrick Jane again after basically accusing him of narcissism to his face. "We were going to have one more drink and head home." You decide on a white lie, feeling that it's relatively harmless under the circumstances. "Why don't we have a round together and then you two can have the table?"

“That would be good.” Marcus jumps on the idea. “I’ve heard dancing is good for babies, so you should definitely take your wife out on the dance floor.” He smiles at Patrick like it’s a perfect solution.

“Of course.” Patrick Jane puts one hand to his chest like he’s offended that Marcus would ever doubt him.

“First I have to hunt down a bathroom.” Teresa looks embarrassed yet again, but shrugs. “The joys of pregnancy,” she laughs, rolling her eyes a little. “It’s in the back corner.” For as displeased you are that they’re here, you’re not going to fault a pregnant woman for having to pee. And honestly, you’re a lot pent up from nearly climbing Marcus like a tree on the dance floor…so it’s not a bad idea for you either. “Come on,” you offer, squeezing Marcus’s hand right before letting go. “I’ll go with you.”

Marcus waits until you are out of the booth, watching as you guide Teresa towards the bathrooms before he looks back over at Patrick. “Why are you really here?” He demands, pretense dropped and the beginnings of a scowl on his face.

“I find you utterly fascinating.” Jane deadpans, pouring himself a large amount of tequila lime along with lime juice and soda water. “Now that I don’t have to pry you away from Teresa, I am engrossed.”

“Why am I fascinating?” Marcus asks, completely bewildered by that answer. It had been the last thing he had expected to come out of Patrick Jane’s mouth. He waves off an offer of a shot of the tequila he’s paying for and watches as Patrick shrugs and lifts his own drink.

Jane leans back in the booth and smirks, raising the glass to his lips with a shrug. “A man as desperate to commit as you should have had this all worked out years ago. I always wondered why you were single when you obviously wanted so badly to be married.” In fact, the other men on the team in Austin had been sick of hearing about it. “But now I see why. It has to do with her.”

“I’m sure you’ve been in love at least once.” Marcus’s tone is just shy of snarky and he picks up his bottle of water. “The kind that never fades, no matter what.”

"I've been married twice." The other man reminds Marcus, frowning momentarily.

“Don’t have to love someone to marry them.” He retorts, scoffing slightly. His hard on is gone, the pleasant buzz he had is a thing of the past.

"Seems a shame to skip that part." Jane seems not to care about anything but his drink, watching the way it refracts the dim club lights in his glass. "You would never skip that part." He has to ask. To push the needle in just a little bit harder. "Would you, Marcus?"

“Are you asking if I loved your wife?” Marcus asks, stonily staring at Patrick. Wondering why the fuck does this have to be rehashed again. “And why does it matter? You are with her, like you should be. You’re having a baby, congratulations. Why does this matter now?”

"A curious man can never be satiated." With more enigmatic bullshit than sense coming out of his mouth, Patrick Jane seems particularly proud of himself and not inclined to make much sense.

Marcus’s sigh is half frustrated, half resigned. He reaches for the tequila bottle and uncorks it. “If I had been with Doctor Pike—” God, he loves saying that. “I wouldn’t have looked twice at Teresa, or any other woman. Ever.” He admits to Patrick. “She’s had a spell on me since the first time I saw her. And I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive to have her back.”

“Funny.” A wry smile quirks to the corner of Patrick’s mouth. “That’s what she told Teresa about you.”

“What can we say?” Marcus shrugs slightly although his heart is bursting with pride that you were happy to have him back. “We love each other.”

“Yeah, we do.” You hum, appearing beside Marcus with a bright smile on your face. Teresa rounds your other side and slips back into the booth beside her husband while you nestle back in with Marcus. “Glad to see you two boys didn’t come to blows while we were gone.”

“I really think Marcus would like to punch me.” Patrick announces, looking hurt at the prospect. “But I’m going to be his best man when he remarries you.” He predicts, winking at you playfully.

“With no offense intended whatsoever,” you squeeze Marcus’s leg under the table to keep from bursting out laughing. “I don’t think the timing will probably allow for that. Unless you’re planning on moving to DC and this is how you’re telling us?”

“Oh God no.” Teresa manages quickly. “I think Marcus would transfer to the moon if Patrick were coming to D.C. permanently.”

Her husband huffs at her and shakes his head. “How little you trust me.” He gives her a wounded look. “And here I was trying to push them to do what he’s already dying to do.”

“We’ll remarry when we’re ready to.” You desperately need the cocktail you’re pouring for yourself, and you look to Marcus to see if he does, too.

“So you don’t know….” Patrick hums, smirking at Marcus. “Interesting.”

“You’re absolutely infuriating.” You tell Patrick flatly. He seems to thrive from pissing people off and at this point you’re trying very hard not to raise your voice. “Marc and I don’t owe you an explanation or a justification just because you’re morbidly curious about our relationship.”

“Don’t.” Marcus reaches over and takes your hand. “We don’t have to explain anything, and he likes poking. Just to see what he can get.”

“Maybe we should go home.” The defeat of having your first date invaded and the whole mood soured is starting to get to you, and making you doubt the whole thing. Like the universe is trying to tell you that just love isn’t enough.

“Please don’t.” Patrick urges you. “I would feel terrible.”

He should feel terrible, but you don’t say as much. “It’s up to you,” you murmur to Marcus, knowing that you’ll stay with him either way. If he wants to stay, you’ll stay.

“Baby, if you want to go home, we’ll go home.” He promises you, leaning in and brushing his nose against yours. “Do you want to go home?” He doesn’t want to push, but wherever you go, he’s going.

"I just want to be with you." The whisper is barely loud enough for him to hear because at this point you're convinced that Patrick Jane can read lips or has somehow planted a microphone on you. The night has been rudely hijacked but there is still time to get it back.

“That’s all I want too.” Marcus promises before he decides on what he wants to do. “Kiss me.” He demands softly, reaching up and grasping your chin.

Now that is a request that you will gladly agree to. It takes barely any effort to make it happen - just tilting your head backward and barely tipping your chin to press your lips firmly and eagerly to his. Your hand on his jaw just connects you a little bit more, focusing your energy entirely on him as you let yourself dissolve into the kiss.

Marcus ignores the sounds of approval from Patrick, focusing on the feeling of you, the way your lips melt against his. Forgetting in just a few seconds that they are even there. Whatever his endgame is here, you're not fighting it. The chance to give yourself over to the moment - to just have it be you and him with the rest of the world not mattering one single bit - is too good to pass up.

He’s not going to let Patrick ruin this, to take away from this amazing night that the two of you have shared. If it means making out in front of him and Teresa, so be it.

You don’t resist when Marcus deepens the kiss, sighing softly when he slides his tongue along the seam of your lips and letting him in instantly. All thought of the Janes has faded from your mind and the only thing left there is Marcus, leaving you in a perfect state of relaxation and bliss with your arms tight around each other.

He makes it soft and yet completely overwhelming, wanting to put the dreamy look back in your eyes. Choking your chin and tilting it up as he tangles his tongue with yours.

If not for air, you would never have stopped. If you could breathe in Marcus, you absolutely would. Unfortunately, the human body does require oxygen at a certain point, and you have to pull back even just for a moment. With your eyes still closed and your forehead pressed to his, you shiver a little in his arms.

Humming happily, Marcus just breathes you in. Unconcerned with what the two behind him are doing. “You want to dance again?” He murmurs softly.

All you can do for a second is nod, with your heart beating out of time in your chest and your blood pounding in your ears, you're just looking at Marcus like he hung the moon. "Yeah," you whisper when you remember how to speak. "Yeah, I do."

Marcus offers you a smile. One that says that he’s glad you said yes, because it was what he wanted. Not even bothering with the niceties of excusing the two of you - he hadn’t invited the Janes to this date after all - he stands and helps you out of the booth to guide you back to the dance floor.

The song doesn’t matter just like all the other people on the dance floor don’t matter, because the world may as well have ceased existing as long as you can still have Marcus here beside you. It makes you wonder - just days into this revived relationship - how you even managed the last twelve years without him. “Back in our own little world,” you hum softly, going to him like a magnet. There is nothing you want more than to be held in his arms.

“That’s what matters.” Marcus pulls you close and his arm around your waist keeps you anchored to him. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs quietly. “I was deciding what dancing venues would be best and had them written down. I guess he saw them when he got to the office today.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” The man who should apologize has probably never done so sincerely in his entire life. “Think of Patrick Jane as a test for the most annoying parts of having a child without any of the positive moments,” you joke, knowing what some of your friends and coworkers have said about their own kids. “If we can take the interruptions with grace now, we’ll be fine when it’s tiny people we love.”

“Tiny people we love.” Marcus instantly gets soft at the idea of mini yous running around and wrapping him around their fingers. “I like that idea.”

“So sometimes we’ll be interrupted.” You both hold each other a little tighter, melting into the idea. “That’s okay.”

“Hmmmm.” Marcus leans in and kissing you softly. The idea of kids is always something he’s loved but with you it’s extra special. The rekindling desires he had harbored when he was newly married to you.

“Love you, baby.” The soft murmur against his lips is more honest than anything else in the world right now, and you wrap one arm around his shoulders to keep close. “So much.”

The music is soft and slow, allowing the two of you to slowly sway side to side without actually moving your feet. Marcus is aware when Patrick and Teresa come onto the floor to join the two of you but he doesn’t even look over, too busy looking into your eyes.

“Think this band does weddings?” You can’t help the thought, imagining dancing to this same music in a hotel or vineyard somewhere. Something more mature and artistic than the wedding his gracious parents had thrown for you as literal children.

“I’m sure they do.” Marcus smiles, closing his eyes and sighing softly. “It would be nice. Although now you know we have to have a Tequila bar at the reception.”

“I was thinking tequila-based signature cocktail.” You admit with a grin. The thought had occurred to you this morning at brunch and made you smile. “Maybe both. Whatever we want.”

“You’re already planning our next wedding?” His grin matches yours and stretches a little wider. “I think I like that.”

“I’ve dreamed up a million different ways it could go.” Over the years it became the daydream that both haunted and uplifted you. Wondering if the day would ever come. Now that it’s within reach it feels like it’s lighting you up from the inside. “I want it to be perfect for you.”

“Baby.” Marcus shakes his head and leans in to kiss you again. “Only thing I need for it to be perfect is for you to be walking towards me again.”

“I promise.” Tomorrow on your lunch break you’re going to go and do a little shopping, you decide as you press your lips to Marcus’s. For something he would never expect in a million years. Something he deserves more than anything.

“Mmmmm.” He loves when you kiss him. He always has, reaffirming that men need to feel special as well. It makes him smile against your lips happily.

“This band. Tequila bar. Chocolate cake with fruit. I’m cataloguing it all away.” You promise him softly. “It will be perfect.”

“Now, the most important thing.” Marcus teases. “Where do we want to honeymoon?” The last time you got married, it had just been a weekend in a hotel but he wants to take you anywhere you want to go.

“This is a much harder question,” You laugh, still swaying with him even when the music picks up. “It could be somewhere neither of us has ever been before? Or we could go two places and share our favorite places with each other?”

“Honestly…” Marcus blushes slightly and gives a small shrug. “I’ve always imagined Paris with you.” He knows you have been, you lived there for awhile, but he wouldn’t mind going back. “But we don’t have to.” He adds quickly, not wanting you to mired in guilt.

“I can show you everywhere I wanted to share with you while I was living there.” Your tone goes dreamy, soft and full of warmth. You had dreamed so many times of showing him your favorite places - the chance to actually do it in real life sounds perfect. “And we can do new things, obviously. But I…I would love to share Paris with you.”

“Then that’s where we should go. Experience it together.” He sighs softly, imagining it with almost movie like clarity in his head.

“Perfect.” And if you happen to come back with one of those tiny people who you love on the way? You’ll just have to hunt down a Fabriqué à Paris onesie.

“So now that we’ve planned most of it out, we’re all set.” He knows these are vague fantasies, but they are helping him get more comfortable with wanting it with you. There’s no panic there for you, he’s gotten better at reading you with his FBI training.

“Oh yeah, planning a DC wedding is no sweat.” You practically snort, knowing how much work Angela and Harry’s wedding took to get right. You had never realized until then just how much of the work his mother had done for you.

“Honey, we plan what we want and hit we want.” Marcus winks at you. “And we can afford a wedding planner.”

“How very fancy of us.” You can’t help but giggle a little, knowing that you used to think vaguely of having a vow renewal fifteen or twenty years in the future. If you had only known then. “We’ll have to dream up just the right place, then. Some places have planners assigned to couples when you book them.”

“Wherever you want.” Marcus is easy in the venues and to be honest, doesn’t know D.C. like you do. “The people there are what matters to me.”

“I could get us a deal on a Smithsonian wedding.” You waggle your eyebrows at him, not above Throwing your seniority around to make sure your second wedding is unforgettably beautiful. “If you wanted to. It’s just an idea.”

“Is that what you would want?” Marcus asks seriously, intrigued by the idea. He’s never heard of a Smithsonian wedding, but it seems like it would be amazing.

“I’ve definitely thought about it before. A lot, actually.” Always him. Always wondering how many new friends would be added to the old ones and how many of your combined family members would be crowing ‘I told you so’. “Maybe we can make date nights out of visiting the galleries they rent out and seeing if we like any of them for us?”

“Whenever you want.” He agrees easily, nodding at the idea and looking forward to another date night. “I’ll let you arrange it so Patrick doesn’t find out.” He snickers quietly.

“We’ll leave a list of decoy ideas.” You laugh right along with him, smothering the spine but not the way your body shakes. “Send then to some very odd places.”

“Ohhh please tell me you have the address of a sex club or something.” Marcus begs quietly. “Something discreet so he doesn’t know until he gets inside.”

“I was thinking of the address for the Department of Sanitation or something.” But you burst out laughing, holding Marcus close as you shake with it. “I’ll have to see if Angie has had to do any interesting recon for a case that’s past. She might have something fun for us.”

“I like the way you think.” He chuckles with you, happy that the night had returned to being about the two of you and no one else. This is what he wanted.

“Anything for you.” Especially if it’s something to make him smile. Living without that smile for twelve years has only proven to you how precious it is to have back again.

Marcus might be the luckiest man in the face of the planet. “Let’s go home, baby.” He murmurs softly, ready to strip you down and make love to you.

"Absolutely." Home. With him. It's the exact place you want to be.

Marcus grins and glances over where Patrick and Teresa are dancing. “Let’s go.” He motions over to the coat check and bypasses the table where you had been sitting.

It almost feels naughty, to just skip right out on things, but you cling to Marcus's hand as he leads you to the door and passes off his valet ticket to the girl waiting by the door, but the only damn thing in the world is that smile on his face. When his car is pulled up to the curb you slide into the passenger's side and sit back in the leather seats with a sigh.

“He deserves it.” Marcus offers with a slight shrug if his shoulders and a slightly malicious grin as he throws the car into drive. Patrick will foot the bill, which is the least he can do for crashing your date.

"Let's go home, baby." His words were the perfect choice, and you giggle softly as he heads back through the winding streets of DC.

Home. He loves the fact that you think of it as home already. “Maybe- what do you think about spending all week at the house and then next week we can stay at the apartment?” He offers, not wanting to just make you stay at his place all the time if you want to be in your own space.

"You can see if you like any of my furniture better than yours." The grin you flash him while he's driving is excited and nothing less. "But I don't think it will take long for us to be spending our time at the house."

“As long as that’s what you want.” Marcus murmurs with a matching smile.

"I do." The word choice makes you fluster, like saying those specific words to him as a full sentence again is some sort of spell. "I mean, it is."

“Nah….” Marcus reaches over and takes your hand, pulling your hand up to kiss it. “I like your first answer.” He hums.

------ 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 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73

tCIGtDYE: @missmarmaladeth @afro-hispwriter @rosmarinus @mythrielofsolitude @jxvipike @avaleineandafryingpan @hnt-escape @supernaturalgirl20 @scorpio-marionette @bobafvcker @midnightevermore @dinoflower @pearl-aqua-tears @itsbaehyungbitch @pepperminticedcoffee @anticipayosbot @girlofchaos @speedynana @loveslide @noisynaia @just-here-for-the-moment @goodgriefitsawildworld @curiouskeyboard @iarellanouus @mymistery09-blog @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thenightdreamsballad @pondsofravenclaw @sherlock221b114679797 @pimmyxyone @theredwritingwitch @ghostinhours @timpletance @strawberryjamcheesecake @amb11 @a-little-shade-of-kiki @wildemaven @tuquoquebrute @supernaturalgirl @ellenmunn @iceclaw101 @toxicfrankenstein @catsandgeekyandnerd @missmarmaladeth @theincredibleinkspitter @agiroflee98 @lyonessofnarnia @we-could-have-been @totostits @scorpio-marionette @kikis-writing-world @trappistmonksofthefuture @danichz @88dragon06 @scorpionerd @myrealmofchaos @movievillainess721 @firekissed13 @qseomik @acollectionofcells1 @captain-of-my-game1992 @alician87 @lovesbiggerthanpride @justgonewild @hiyorinatsuki @pinkrosethorne @apocalypticwafflekitten @groovycass @rebel-fanfare @d0cthunder @gooddaykate @purplerain04 @astridflowers @frasmotic @dornish-queen

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Agent Marcus Pike #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic #ex wife reader

161 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 1 year

Text

Circle, Circle: Dieter Bravo X f!reader

A/n: written for my @yearofcreation2023 Year of Kisses. This prompt was a kiss for comfort, and a whole lot of real life happened between when I started this and now. This is a love letter to the theater nerds I knew in high school and the theater nerd I became later in life. This one turned out different than I thought it would. This story refused to be smutty. This story refused to be sexy. I don't make the rules. Inspired largely by this.

warnings: drug and alcohol use, angst, implied fatphobia, insecurity, cuddles and fluff, being dieter's best friend implies it's own warning.

You saw the clip. Annika belting Dieter in the chops in the middle of some posh party while Kate looked on with the kind of face you make when your drunken best friend barfs in a potted plant at your parents house. You never loved me! You never loved me at all! Dieter's hands thrown up in self defense, grinning at the cameras as security goons hook their arms around Annika's waist and pull her out of the shot. Day in the life.You saw the clip and knew what was coming. Dieter fuckin Bravo.

You've known D since middle school, gravitating towards each other because no one else wanted anything to do with either of you. The girls called you stupid and fat and ugly. The boys called him faggot. So you'd banded together, smoking cigarettes you stole out of your Gramma's dresser, smoking shake-weed out of pop-can pipes at the edge of school grounds, right under that stupid sign that read 'drug free school zone' and then kicking it into the tall grass when some terminally bored teacher's aide came to round up you and D and the rest of the burnouts. Nobody ever gave you more than the cursory straighten up and fly right speech. Neither of you were actively failing so no one cared. Then, in high school Dieter discovered the theater program and so did you.

You saw the clip and knew your phone would ring eventually. Or buzz rather. Coming home, he texts. Can you pick me up? Sure. What time? Knowing exactly what will happen. He'll say he won't be any trouble, that he'll book a room at the holiday inn and you'll tell him no and invite him to stay. Because you always do. Because home has turned on him for getting out. He's won an Oscar out in the world, but here? He's sneered at, deep well of contempt for those who strike out and fail and come home licking their wounds. Who does he think he is? Who do you think you are? Hurts less for you because you never tried to leave as much as you wanted to.

You should try out, you told him. If I'm trying out you should too, he told you. Little Shop of Horrors. He was gunning for Seymour so you learned Audrey, so you could practice the songs with him. I can't try out are you kidding me? You can, D told you, you sound...rested his hand on your upper arm the way someone might touch a live nuclear warhead. You sound good. We sound good together. You know that right? And inside you do. The way his voice weaves through yours, the way you can let go when it's just the two of you. His garage or your basement, singing over the piano track the music teacher made.

He's a mess. He looks about four days out from his last shower, his curls sticking up in greasy quills, his eyes are red-rimmed, from drugs or crying, you can't tell. This is how it is for him. He fucks up spectacularly and then he comes slinking home. No one cares here. No one gives a shit about his Oscar here. Just that no good Bravo boy limping home like a kicked dog. But you care. Dragging his carry-on along behind him, broad shoulders slumped, you feel that unwilling, unwitting spike of pity lodge in your chest.

They'd laughed. At the audition. When you and Dieter took your positions on stage, a bit of rough blocking you'd worked out between the two of you. Not loud braying laughter, snickers and titters of girls expecting a debacle and you feel your chest constrict and your eyes burn--

"Lift up your head Wash off your mascara Here, take my Kleenex, wipe that lipstick away Show me your face, clean as the morning I know things were bad, but now they're okay--"

But Dieter has you, grips your chin with finger and thumb just like you practiced, those big brown eyes terrified and deadly serious hold yours as he draws you to your feet. Audrey's lines pour out of you in a rush, the accompaniment a hair slower than the recording, I blew it, I blew the song and then you find the tempo, you find your voice and it rings out like it did all the times you and Dieter ran it together, belting it over the cast recording, rings out into the dark auditorium, the way you've heard it in your head this whole time, and you feel your skin prickle as Dieter's voices threads through yours like a grounding touch, and you finish together, singing into each other's faces.

The accompaniment stops and there's polite applause.

"You saw?" "Everybody saw--" "Fuck."

He smells like stale beer, fast food and no sleep. "You knew it wasn't gonna last with her right?" You keep your eyes on the road, but you can feel D bristle in the passenger's seat. "How do you mean?" "Come on, man, she's, like, half your age. Even if you hadn't cheated on her with Kate--" "Hey--" "You and her have nothing in common other than being trapped in that weird quarantine bubble," you say, "That's not love, that's fucking Stockholm syndrome." "You're probably right." "I'm always right. Haven't you figured that out by now?"

"This is some bullshit!" Dieter jabs a chipped black fingernail at the list of names tacked to the bulletin board outside the auditorium. "Your name is nowhere on that list. We sounded so good together! They--" "Dieter it's fine," you say. "They cast Emmy Lancaster as Audrey! What the fuck?" "Emmy's fine. She's got a nice voice." "Yeah, but she's not you! How'm I gonna do it if it's not you?" "D! Stop it!"You grab him by his upper arms and shake him a little, and those big brown eyes lock onto yours and he looks like he's drowning. "You've got this. I know you, dude, you're gonna be great." His eyes flick back and forth like he's searching for something. "Will you still run lines with me?" "Of course I will, you asshole."

"You hungry?" "Starving." "Mabels?" "Mabels."

"Oh, man, I forgot how good this is."

You and Dieter order the same thing as ever, garbage omelets with and order of biscuits and gravy split between you. D slathers his plate in hot sauce and you wrinkle your nose like you always do. And the question comes up as it always does. Can I stay with you? Just for a little bit-- and the answer is always yes, because D is a disaster but he's your disaster.

He's held your hair while you puked, you babied him when his girl dumped him right before senior prom. You ran lines together, even though you couldn't act with him. You don't have the right look for Audrey, they told you, but we do need a stage manager, and you threw yourself into it even though it hurt, because what where you expecting? And you had a knack for it, which surprised you and everyone else. The Audrey Two puppets were rented, but everything else had to be built and you found that you loved it, sketching out the sets, figuring out how to make the pieces light enough for you and the half-dozen other nerds you'd press-ganged into being stage crew to lift easily. We can do most of it with scrims, paint right on the fabric and then light it on from the back, or we could project the images right on them, like what Nine Inch Nails does. We can get with the AV club, see what they think.

"You can always stay with me, Dieter." You reach across the sticky table and wrap your hand around his forearm, "You know that right?" And there's a flicker across his face that says no, and it feels like a spike in your belly--

"Everyone's saying-- Christ. It's like everything I touch turns to shit."

"C'mon, that's crap and you know it, Hunger Strike--"

"That was different!" He surges forward and takes your hands in his, a bit of coffee sloshed between you, turned ears and cocked heads of the few patrons haunting Mabel's this time of night. "I had something there! It was like, something entirely outside of me--"

"Like catching lightning in a bottle?"

"Exactly like that!" And he smiles, brilliantly, the real one, not the cool little smirk reserved for the red carpet, for the press junkets, the smile that lights him up, the one you remember from way back when the lights came up and the orchestra played the main theme, the cast linked arm and arm, ready to take their bows and Dieter broke ranks, deviated from what you'd done in the previews, running the show for a cadre of bored teachers who'd rather be doing just about anything else, he sees you in the wings and catches your eye, waves you out two handed, a huge clownish gesture that requires a response, so you and the tech crew pour onto the stage, while the actors slide down to make room for you and you dip your outstretched hands to the orchestra and raise them again to the soundboard and spot operator the way you've seen every night this run and then everyone links arms and bows in a wave and suddenly Dieter's arms are locked around you, releases you and then turns to the crowd, raises your hand and his together, as the applause comes up.

"Do you know how that feels?" And you remember the way you and him sounded together, how Audrey poured out of your lungs like she had always been there-- "Yeah, D, I do," and his eyes flicking back and forth across your face still and hold yours, his hands warm in your grasp.

"Yeah," he says, and squeezes your fingers in his, "Yeah, I think you do." And you stay like that a beat, hands folded together across the sticky table, ancient cigarette smoke and old coffee and hand sanitizer. The waitress brings the check. One of Mabel's spray tanned granddaughters. You draw your hands away like you've been caught.

You've kissed Dieter exactly once, under the much-graffitied overpass, neon slurs and pentagrams and pigeon shit, both of you drunk on Wild Irish Rose, him smelling of weed and his mouth was warm, tentative against yours, and you'd laughed about it afterwards, circle-circle dot-dot now i've got my cootie shot, and you'd leaned together with your arms around each other, warm and solid against each other.

During tech week you'd pulled double duty, running lines with Dieter because outside of the auditorium Emmy Lancaster wouldn't even look at him, rolled her eyes all through rehearsal as if she was doing the world a favor by being there. She wanted nothing to do with him outside of scheduled rehearsals and Dieter was scared. The tech crew you'd rounded up was a different story all together, the lights are down and they can't see us so go nuts, so backstage you'd gone full goth, all black and dramatic makeup, and some of the others had followed suit, a little bit of rebellion behind the curtain where no one could look at you.

After one particularly grueling night, you and Dieter find yourselves side by side on the futon in your basement. Your bedroom proper is upstairs but your folks have let you build a nest down here so won't bother the rest of the house. They've mostly given up on you but that gives you some freedom.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he says, looking up at the crappy drop ceiling and glow in the dark stars that you've decorated it with. "Emmy hates my guts. She thinks I'm a creep. How'm I supposed to make this work?"

"Pretend she's me."

"What?"

"Pretend. She's. Me. You're good singing and running lines with me, so just imagine it's me and not Emmy fuckin Lancaster up there with you."

"Will that work?"

"Dude, I don't fuckin know, but you better figure it out quick. We open in a week."

The ride home is silent save for the scrape of windshield wipers, low, warm spit of rain, winding back roads and Dieter's fallen asleep, head turned away, slumped against the window, comes blearily awake at the sound of your tires on the gravel driveway.

"Hey, D, we're home." He stretches in the passenger's seat and yawns hugely.

"I can still get a hotel. I don't want to be a problem--"

"Too late. C'mon."

You fall asleep under fake plastic glowing stars and wake to find you and him wrapped together, his forehead pressed to yours, your arms tucked around his ribs, his hand folded over the curve of your hip, his breath warm against your face, and you're not sure how this makes you feel, because you've never been close with someone quite like this and you're not sure what might happen next, but at the same time this is Dieter and you've known each other for what feels like a million years and he looks so different asleep, face all slack like a little kid who's zonked out in the back on the car on some long road trip.

"I'll take the couch." "The fuck you will. I know the wire-work on Cliff Beasts 6 tweaked your back." "Was it that obvious?" "I could tell." "You can always tell."

"D. Hey, D." You try to squirm out of his grip without waking him, but you haveto resort to a good hard poke in the ribs. His eyes fly open and the two of you launch up and out of bed and away from each other like two magnets forced pole to pole.

"hoooomygod. Oh shit I'm so sorry, I didn't mean--" "Dude, it's okay, I didn't mean either-" "I was just so tired holy shit," his eyes are wide and his cheeks are fire engine red and you can feel the embarrassment and anxiety pouring off him like radiation. You start laughing. You can't help it. "What?" "You remember that scene from Planes, Trains & Automobiles?" Dieter brays laughter and the embarrassment flicks out like a candle flame.

You offer your hand and he takes it. You lead him upstairs. You need to get cleaned up. You smell like the floor of a taxi-cab, and Dieter laughs, a small one that just barely touches his eyes, his big be-ringed hand folded around yours, stroking your knuckles with the pad of his thumb, eyes down-turned.

"You always let me come back to you. No matter how bad I fuck up. You don't have to- you shouldn't--"

"Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't do Dieter Bravo. You can always come to me. Unless you become a serial killer. Which seems unlikely considering how squeamy blood makes you."

Dieter laughs, a real one this time, that dimples his scruffy cheek and crinkles his eyes closed, and he knows you're talking about the time in Mrs. Wilson's home economics class when Lola Stevens sliced her thumb opening a can of peaches to make cobbler and Dieter got one good look at the running blood and slithered bonelessly out of his chair, eyes rolled up to the whites.

He laughs and pulls you into a crushing hug, his arms banded around your back, pressing you into him and it catches you off guard and you stumble against him, sorry. I didn't mean, and you don't give him space to elaborate, tuck your face into his neck, wind your arms just as tight around his middle. He smells like skunk weed and whiskey sweat and fast food and exhaustion but also like home, like those fevered days leading up to opening night, like when your first serious boyfriend had dumped you, like when he'd held your hair while you puked in the weeds by the side of the road, walking back home from a kegger that he cops broke up, the two of you creeping into the basement, got you a big sweating plastic tumbler of water in the ugly yellow light from the range hood, his eyes big and dark and serious, afraid of waking the rest of the house, and laughter had come bubbling up silent giggles that he caught like the plague, did you see the way Greggie ran?-- shut up you're gonna get us caught--

"Christ I missed you." "Missed you too, D, but you really need to shower." "That bad, huh?" "Yeah, that bad."

With some coaxing Dieter sleeps beside you, curled away from your nightstand lamp. Can't ever sleep without reading a little first, a horror yarn you've read a half-dozen times, plucky hero and damsel in distress threaded through with Dieter's even breath. He looks oddly frail in the soft light, back hunched in and knees tucked up like he's cold. You kill the light and slide the book under your pillow. You already know how it ends.

You kill the light and tuck yourself against his broad back, slide your arm around and his hand finds yours, folds your fingers into his, tucked against his chest. He smells like your soap and your shampoo because his toothbrush and a hair-clotted razor were the only toiletries that made it into his tangle of luggage. Walmart, you think, need to go anyway. You feel him soften, relax into your embrace, his weight settling against you, press your lips to the back of his head before tucking your face into the warm join of his shoulder.

His voice, sleep heavy and slurred-"Did you just kiss me?"

"Circle-circle, dot-dot"

#year of kisses #year of themes 2023 #better late than never #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo best friend imagine #dieter bravo #pedro pascal

80 notes · View notes

her-favourite · 7 months

Text

Closure - please read if you even remotely care about me

I have been having this feeling for months... that I regret ever becoming friends with E.

I only ever posted about the good and about the cutesy stuff but having her in my life (even tho she saved me, she helped me when I was most suicidal) really fucked me up. We had great moments together and she put me in not-so-great situations, emotionally.

There were times when I asked her to message me when she got home (when I knew she'd arrive home late) and she didn't. She she said she'd call me back, she rarely did which caused me intense anxiety. She pointed out flaws in the name of helping me better myself, these often turned into massive insecurities.

Last year, when I have already slept at hers a couple of time, when we were already close friends she full on forgot my birthday (24/02) which broke my heart as she was my main mother figure. When I brought it up she said her mental health was suffering. In contrast, I gave her silver jewellery just a few weeks earlier for her birthday. That whole ordeal really fucked me up and our relationship was never the same. I'm like 60% sure she won't remember my birthday this year... (She never really wore the silver jewellery I gave her which broke my heart because I wore the necklace with a pendant that she gave me every. single. day. For more than 2 years.)

She purposefully never said that she loved me. I told her that I needed that in a friendship, she knew that, yet she never said it.

She purposefully never introduced me as her friend when we met someone. Always as her exstudent. She knew it was important for me, yet she never did it.

It was always me initiating things, it was always me calling her to check up on her. She hardly ever reached out to me. I initiated I'd say 95% of our interactions.

When I left high school I asked her if we can have an adult friendship. She said yes. That wasn't true.

I told her handwritten things are my thing. I told her multiple times. I told her multiple times how happy I was when I got handwritten anything from other friends. Not once did she write anything. Not even a Merry Xmas card. Nothing.

Every time I told her something about N or T she kind of got jealous (I don't know if that's how she actually felt but it seemed like it) and always found something negative about their actions. Why did T as a married man talk to me like that? Why did N as an adult (buy this point I was already 19-20) talk to me about serious stuff) that way etc.

She had been in abusive situations. I thought that she deserved to be loved unconditionally. I thought that if she felt loved by me it's all by worth it. During a fight, I once asked her if she felt loved by me. She said no. That broke my heart to a million pieces because that means that it was all in vain. Whenever she said or did something that hurt me I justified staying because her feeling loved unconditionally was more important for me. And yet it was all in vain.

I learnt so many things from her, both as a person and also as a teacher. I'm so glad I had her in my life during my formative years but I think it's time I set up some boundaries and put a bit of distance between us.

There were multiple times when she messed with my mental peace to the point where I'd have full-on meltdowns, and would have very shit couple of days after our fights. Almost always I wanted to dramatically have a friendship breakup with her but I was afraid I'd be kind of flagged as childish for how I react. But I convinced myself that I just have to suck it up and that E is simply a tough-love and extremely honest type of person.

My heart feels like it's missing a piece. Throughout my high school years, I had (still have) very troubled, emotionally neglectful relationship with my parent's and I almost took pride in calling myself neither my father's nor my mother's little girl. But E's. She took on a motherly figure role in my life. Which is now ending.

I don't know how it may seem to other people, it may seem not that big of a deal but E really was my close friend, I probably knew all her close friends, she definitely knew mine, I have slept at hers multiple times, I even had a key to her flat for a brief time. I met her when I was 14 and now I'm about to turn 21.

One thing I want to add is, and I don't want to compare these two women because both are genuinely amazing (and E was amazing just not as a mother figure I think) , but I feel the most secure, reassured and genuinely liked with my mentor-mentee relationship with N even tho I've known N for a little less than one year.

I don't know how long this post is going to be in my drafts until I'm able to post it (and by that, accept these things.) If she forgets my birthday that'll probably be the last straw and I'll post it. 18/01/24

27/02/24: She forgot it again. I don’t know what to do.

#E #teacher attachment #tcc #teacher crush community #teacher crush #november 2023 #female teacher attachment #female teacher #closure #female teacher crush #favorite teacher #teacher

16 notes · View notes

sansxfuckyou · 1 year

Text

Fight fire with fire

Summary: Kyle is Kennys soulmate, the only problem with that is they both fall under the same ranking- it goes anywhere and everywhere but where Kenny expected when Kyle realizes it.

Warnings: Omegaverse, the talk, panic, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: *hits post button with the strength of a day old rat* day six woohoo. school is fucking me up big time, but i did draw something semi-artistic in advance so no fic tomorrow. hope ya'll enjoy this one, if you do maybe consider dropping a reblog or checking the ao3 port

It started in grade eight, right around the time many would present with their ranking. Alpha, Beta, or Omega, and there were always a few who fit the gray areas in between without scientifically accepted terminology. In grade eight, when you would would wake up and know that something is different. You'd wake up, walk downstairs and all eyes would be on you as they take in the new, still-forming scent and figure it out.

And then you'd go to school and the teachers would take a small blood sample around your scent gland and put it in a machine. They were always kind enough to keep it quiet around your rank, something for you to boast instead. They'd hand you a slip of paper after class and send you off to return the next day with the information.

In South Park, things are a little bit different, you have to figure it out on your own.

"Ha! I bet Kyles gonna end up an Omega," Cartman snickered to as the aforementioned redhead walked into the class.

He looked completely calm and collected, and Cartman didn't like that. He sat down at his desk and simply ignored Cartman instead of antagonizing. Three years ago he gladly would've thrown words and fists with him but he's mature now. He's presented now and he plans full well on holding that over his friends heads because he hit the moment first. (Unless Stan, Kenny, or Cartman also presented in the dead of night like Kyle did)

Stan picked up the slight difference first, "Did you get your rank last night dude?"

Kyle nodded, "I had to take a two hour shower to wash off the residual scent man, I would recommend against presenting."

"So what are you Kyle? An Omega?" Cartman teased in a singsong voice.

"Yeah man, what are you?" Kenny chimed in with, leaning over his desk a bit.

"An Alpha," Kyle answered with, grinning smugly.

And Cartman burst out laughing in disbelief.

"You're joking! You have to be, you can't be an Alpha! You're obviously an Omega!" Cartman exclaimed, still laughing all the while. He shut up the second Kyle had him pressed against his desk, hands pinned behind his back and the corner of the desk jutting into his thigh. He gave a weak wheeze of a laugh, "Idiot," Then he kicked and it hurt (a lot) but Kyle didn't falter.

"I can't be an Alpha, right? Then prove it, give me a command," Kyle snarled out, venom clear as day on his voice, "Everyone knows Omegas crumble even under unranked fuckers like yourself."

Cartman just laughed as best he could, "Fuck off Kyle," The edge required for a command wasn't present.

Kenny placed a hand on Kyle shoulder, "Dude, let go of Cartman."

Kyle glared at him, digging his nails into Cartmans wrists.

"Let him go," Kenny demanded and Kyle heeled like a dog whether he liked it or not. His grip on Cartmans wrists came undone in a second and he stepped back.

"Fine," He spat the word, "Tell him not to be an asshole and I won't do it again."

Stan simply stared, "Maybe you are an Omega dude."

"What?" Kyle turned around so fast it could give him whiplash as the word burst from his mouth.

"You just followed Kennys order like a pet dog," Stan said calmly, aware that Kyle wouldn't hurt him or pin him.

Kyle paused briefly, "And? He's my friend, I was just taking his advice."

"Don't be so insecure, we won't make fun of you if you're an Omega," Stan said, it only stoked the fire in the pit of Kyles stomach more.

"It'd be a good balance to have one Omega in the group, more than two Alphas would lead to self-destruction," Kenny explained and Kyles glare was sharp as an axe.

"What makes you so sure anyone else in this group is gonna be an Alpha? Let alone two?" Kyle questioned, watching with rapt intrigue as Kenny rubbed his wrists together.

Scent glands, he was exfoliating them to release more pheromones- but he had no pheromones. Or really weak ones, he still hadn't presented and the scent of a rankless person would do nothing to calm down Kyle. Or whip him into a frenzy, whatever their purpose they wouldn't work.

Kenny grabbed Kyle and pressed his inner wrist against his nose, the second strongest scent gland on the body held just under his nostrils. He tried to lessen his breathing as Kenny held his wrist to Kyles nose, it was incredibly awkward. Kyle simply scowled and held his breath.

"Just breathe," Kenny said, letting go of the back of Kyles head, "I'm not chloroforming you with my wrists."

Kyle took a deep breath, the heady scent that Kenny held hit him impossibly hard. He coughed a little bit as he staggered back at the oak and cherry scent (there was alcohol but that was just his homes scent rubbing off on him). It burned his nostrils just a bit but in a good way, if felt almost right and he swears the scents all meld into one reminiscent of a wine he snuck at Stans house

"Fuck man, that's pungent," Kyle said, still trying to get it out of his lungs.

"I was presenting when I woke up this morning, took a long ass shower and hoped to god my parka would cover the scent," Kenny explained, "Apparently it did."

"Kennys an Alpha too? What a fucking world," Cartman muttered out as he pulled out his desk chair and sat down.

Kyle gives a hum of amusement, "That means you and Stan are gonna be our Omegas at the end of it all."

"What makes you think I'll be an Omega?!" Cartman snapped.

"It'd be funny," Stan answered with bluntly.

"Super funny," Kenny chimed in with.

Cartman paused, heat coiling under his skin uncomfortably, "What about our soulmarks?! We still gotta wait for those!"

"Don't worry Cartman, until you get your mark I'll help you with your heats," Kenny taunted in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"Shut up!" Cartman snapped.

Kyle leans forward with a bemused hum, "No, you shut up," He holds a commanding edge to his tone and Cartman obeys it, keeping his mouth shut.

"Man I wish I presented," Stan managed wistfully, "Being an Alpha looks like fun."

"It is," Kenny and Kyle said in near unison.

-/-/-/-

Both Kyle and Kenny were brought aside in class, led down the same brightly lit hall, and left standing in front of a door. They didn't dare turn back with their teacher standing over them imposingly. Instead they looked around to find Cartman and Stan being led into two separate rooms. It was all oddly suspicious, and somewhat worrying, but in the same breath all too familiar in the worst way possible.

"Is this sex ed?" Kenny asked bluntly, tugging together the pieces in his head.

He got no response.

"So that's a yes," He got a little bit quieter.

"Gross," Kyle said, shuddering at the notions alone of listening to a teacher drone on about sex once more. Last time this happened their teacher barely knew how the basics of straight sex worked, even without putting ranks into consideration.

"Dude, it'll be fine, there aren't a lot of Alphas this year, mostly Deltas and Betas," Kenny said, placing a reassuring hand on Kyles shoulder, "Besides, you and I both know I'll correct anything they get wrong."

Kyle gave a weak laugh as he pushed open the door, "Totally."

Inside the near empty room sat two others from when they were young, the rest of the desks vacant. Wendy Testaburger and Tweek Tweak sitting up front and idly chatting as the brightness of the projectors light illuminated the dark room. It took a second before Kyle and Kenny made their way in, taking a seat beside Wendy.

"Where's everyone else?" Kyle asked in a hushed tone.

Wendy shrugged, "They probably knew what day it was and skipped on purpose."

"That explains why half the class was fucking gone," Kenny said, "Everyone knew the teachers don't know the difference between a heat and a rut am I right?"

"Totally," Tweek agreed, nodding his head as he spoke.

Kyle glanced haphazardly around the room, "Do you know when the teachers coming?"

"No clue," Wendy said, "How do you think Cartmans doing?"

Kenny hummed, as though deep in thought, "If their teacher is on time then I'd say he's just about to learn he can get pregnant."

"For real?" Tweak asked.

"Listen closely," Kenny said.

And is though it were on cue, a muffled scream of horror originating from Cartman could be heard coming from across the hall. Then a door opening and being slammed shut followed by heavy footsteps.

"Like I said," Kenny stated smugly.

"Christ how much do you know about sex?" Kyle asked.

"More than expected, I was talking about all sorts of weird shit way back in grade school man, you should know I know my stuff," Kenny said, a sly smirk held on his face.

"If the teacher messes up too much you'll pull us aside and correct them, right?" Wendy asked, tone far too serious to dare interpret as joking.

Kenny nodded, "Of course Wendy, least I can do for you and your future Omegas sake."

"Could be Beta," Kyle said, drawing out the A as he spoke.

Wendy nodded, "Yeah Kenny, our soul marks still haven't shown up."

"They won't for another t-t-three years! What are we gonna do during ruts?" Tweek questioned, his usual somewhat erratic self showing through.

"We'll ask the teacher," Kenny said nonchalantly as the door creaked open and a teacher walked in.

She turned on the slideshow before making her way to the front of the class. She cleared her throat before speaking, "Not a lot of Alphas this year?"

"Theres a few more than us but they got sick," Kyle said.

"That sucks, you four know what you're here for?" She asked, holding up the remote for the slideshow and turning it to more a comfortable blue tone, few words lay on the slide.

Everyone nodded before answering in a monotonous tone, "Sex ed."

"Correct, today we'll be talking about pre-rut slash pre-heat etiquette," The teacher said as calmly as she could, Kenny held up his hand, "Yes, you in the orange?"

"Will we bring up what to do before our soulmarks show up?" Kenny asked as innocently as he could muster despite having quite a few ideas.

The teacher nodded, "Yes, but for now let's do my curriculum for day one."

A twist of terror formed in the pit of everyones stomach at the notions of this merely being 'day one' of who knows how many. One hour of The Talk way back in grade four was enough to give Wendy nightmares and Kyle nausea, multiple days? It could very well kill them.

"So, if you want to mate, and potentially breed, your soulmate you have to discuss it with them before their pre-heat and your own pre-rut," The teacher said, voice cutting through the tension and making it worse, "Bring it up however you'd like to do so, but I'd suggest having it on paper, for legal reasons."

Everyone stayed quiet.

"Now, once you've made an arrangement you simply wait for their next heat or your next rut, for best effects wait until you've synced up. If your Omega is female than she'll be able to conceive when she isn't in heat if you're in a rut, if your Omega is male you have to wait till he's in heat. When their pre-heat begins they'll nest and do what they usually do," The teacher explained, Kenny already knew it. She flipped to the next slide. "It's up to you to notice and get consent once more before the heat begins or else it's considered illegal."

"It is?" Kenny asked without raising his hand, "Cause I've heard that South Park is making the idiot move to lift that law, making it unpunishable if previous agreements were made before pre-rut slash heat

"Illegal or not it'd still be considered rape and heavily punishable, especially if they conceive," The teacher said sternly, "Do not do anything without full consent, even if it's to a Beta cause they can still get pregnant, understood?"

Kenny nodded, "Please, continue."

"Alright now, I'm sure all of you have underwent a rut at least once already, correct?" The teacher asked.

Everyone reluctantly nodded, a twist of discomfort at disclosing the information despite the fact it was a normal. They all knew it was part of the education but fessing up to a normal biological function in front of a crowd was awkward.

"Pre-ruts are a little bit different than pre-heats, for one, Alphas usually don't go brain dead in the same way. They usually remember to eat food and drink lots of water," She said, rambling a bit, "But, you will have to keep the doors locked so you don't end up meandering into public in an impaired state. I'm sure you've heard of the cases for people who have? Plenty of lawsuits are in order."

That was just a little bit horrifying, the notions of being so brain dead they'd just go out there and fuck the first Omega in sight regardless of soulmark. They also knew that before society was as far along as it is now that things just worked like that and soulmarks were burned off.

"Lock the doors and the windows, make sure you have enough food littered across your roaming grounds for when you fully enter your rut. Let your friends know to stay away when it happens, especially if they're a lower rank. If it's Alpha to Alpha than really only a small amount of violence will happen before scent recognition tries to kick in; you'll both live," The teacher said calmly, "Alphas usually don't nest but some do, so don't be alarmed if you end up doing so, just ask your Omega for tips."

Wendy held up her hand.

"Yes, purple?" The teacher said.

"What are roaming grounds?" Wendy asked quietly, nervously at that.

"The roaming grounds are your territory, your own personal area, for most living on their own it's their whole home, for you guys I'd say it'd merely be your room," The teacher explained, "Now, any other questions?"

Kyle raised his hand.

"Green hat?"

He bit his lip in anxiousness before speaking, "What if both you and your soulmate are Alphas?"

The teacher laughed, "That almost never happens, and when it does society usually gets rid of them one way or another."

Kyles blood turned to ice, "Oh."

"Unlike two Omegas being soulmates, or two Betas, Alphas can't reproduce," The teacher said, "And as you all know that's highly frowned upon. Even with surrogate Omegas involved an A4A couple is usually shunned unless in the case of previous soulmates dying off and bonding over that."

"Well that's horrifying," Wendy said bluntly, "Couldn't be any of us."

"Definitely not," Kenny said, "We have the benefit of the doubt."

-/-/-/-

It truly went downhill on Kyles eighteenth birthday, two months after Kennys and the day that he gets his soulmark.

Way back during Kennys eighteenth birthday it was just him and Cartman hanging out for the night, waiting for his mark to appear. Playing video games, indulging in the oddly decadent dishes Liane would offer, laughing and having a great time despite the 'unfortunate' aspect of Cartmans biology. He ended up an Omega, the only one in their quartet, mere weeks after Stan presented as a Beta. His rank didn't do shit to deter the consistent broship he's had with his friends since the earliest days of kindergarten.

Still, he was distraught when word first came out and he was forced to come to terms with it, he was just lucky that he had two Alphas who wouldn't take shit to protect him. He'd never say out loud how much he appreciated the intimidation they did for him now that his rank was out in the open. Or that he appreciated the time Stan would spend to calm him down whenever he's been whipped into a frenzy by some stupid kid. But they all got the point when he shut up just a little bit more about Kyle being Jewish and Kenny being poor and whichever of Stans problems was on the table.

"Dude, it's like, ten PM," Cartman began with a yawn as he looked at the digital clock beside his bed, "I think you might be mateless."

"Bullshit, I just gotta wait a little bit longer," Kenny said, mashing more buttons as the screen flashed bright red indicating another kill.

Cartman shrugged as he stood up, "Okay man, I'll be back."

"With cheesy puffs?" Kenny asked.

"Obviously," Cartman answered with a roll of his eyes.

He left the door open on the way out, calm colors of the small TV screen filtering into the hallway. Kenny gave a sigh as he dropped backwards onto Cartmans bed and glanced at his wrists and then his ankles. Absolutely nothing, barely a hint of that scar tissue hue that shows up before the inky black. He gave a groan of annoyance before flipping over onto his stomach, stress tingled over his body. Normally he would try to quell that stress, make sure no one could smell it on him, but he knew that Liane would be a stand-in mother for a moment if she had too.

Maybe he was mateless, his mark sure as hell isn't showing up and the clock is ticking ever closer to twelve. Life would certainly be miserable if he was a mateless Alpha, those usually never crop up. It'd just be him and whatever job he managed to get until he found an unfortunate soul to bond with. The thought alone makes his stomach twist with an uncomfortable sense of dread.

"Dude," Cartmans bluntness tugs Kenny out of his thoughts.

He rolls onto his back, "What?"

"I could smell you downstairs, you're so fucking stressed right now it's not even funny," Cartman said as he sat down next to Kenny, placing a bag of cheesy puffs on the other side of his form. He rubbed his wrists together, "You're totally gonna get your mark."

"What if I don't?" Kenny asked quietly, the comforting fuzziness that Cartmans scent brought him slowly working through his system. His scent was like pink cotton candy, an overwhelming amount of cotton candy, only offset by the hint of pine needles. It was certainly an odd scent but everyone agreed that worse ones were out there.

Cartman placed his hands on either side of Kennys head, palms planted firmly in the sheets. All Kenny could catch was the sugary sweetness of Cartmans scent, "Then I guess our FWB arrangement will become permanent even after I get my mark."

"Thanks man," Kenny said, reaching up to push aside Cartmans hand. He pulled himself up and crossed his les, "Puffs?"

Cartman gave him a handful, "Puffs," He glanced over Kennys form, eyes catching on something before lunging.

The McCormick recoiled, "Dude!?"

"Your ankle!" Cartman exclaimed as he pressed his hands on the reddening patch of flesh.

"Not funny," Kenny got out as he pushed off Cartman with ease. He looked down at his ankle and found it was scarring up with his mark, a euphoric sensation shot trough him, "Holy fuck."

"Dude this is so cool," Cartman got out as he took a bite of a cheesy puff.

Kenny stared with intent as it finally settled on it's form, hue beginning to darken. He traced the thin lines of the pattern curiously, "What symbol is it?"

"No clue," Cartman said as he reached for his phone, "But the internet might know."

He snapped a picture of the mark before putting it into image search and waiting patiently for results. He hummed a bit as it loaded up, Kenny still fixated on the mark as it came too. It was one continuous line, a small hoop with two little sticky outy bits.

"Well?" Kenny asked eagerly.

"Says here its the alchemy symbol for death," Cartman said, a small chuckle on his voice, "Fitting considering how often you die."

Kenny rolled his eyes, "Fate loves to play cruel tricks on me doesn't it?"

"Next thing you know fates gonna revoke your soulmark," Cartman said with a laugh.

Kenny lightly punched him in the shoulder, "Too soon."

And now, two months after the shot of pure ecstasy that Kenny had gotten at the sight of his mark, he's waiting patiently with a couple others for Kyles to show up. The sun is still high in the sky, what with it only be five in the afternoon and spring. He's absolutely giddy, sheer excitement emanating from every pore in his body.

"What do you think it's gonna be?" Stan asked.

Kyle shrugged, "Hopefully something unique."

"I think it's gonna be a star," Cartman said, alluding to something but trying to keep it on the down low, even he knows you only turn eighteen once.

"What if it's a skull?" Craig asked.

"Well a skull is obviously Kennys soulmark," Butters stated as though it were matter of fact.

"Yeah guys, my soulmark is definitely a skull," Kenny said as he rolled his eyes. He rubbed his ankles against each other, pushing down the cuff of his pant leg to cover the mark more. He did enjoy it, he just didn't want anyone to really know- the only reason Cartman knew is because he saw it happen.

"Everyone shut up!" Kyle snapped, he pointed to his wrist, "It's happening."

It was happening, his skin reddening just a bit to that scar tissue hue in a large patch. Then it calmed down again, defining itself just a bit more before a pitch black filled it in. It was rather simple for someone as complex as Kyle, one line, a thin line. No extra little details here and there, just an odd looking loop attached to two stems with little bits on them. It looked familiar to Cartman, like he'd seen it before even though that's stupid. There was no reason for him to have seen a copy of Kyles soulmark until now when Kyle got it.

Then realization hit him hard.

He quickly glanced up to find Kenny looking impossibly uneasy. He looked like he was about to run away or vomit, his hands stuffed in his pockets nervously.

"I have to go feed the cat," Kenny managed to get out stiffly, taking a step back.

"Dude you don't have a cat," Kyle said, raising a brow- Kenny tried to send a subtle pleading look to Cartman.

"That's cause he's feeding my cat, he's taking care of it while moms out of town," Cartman butted in with.

"You should take care of your own cat," Kyle said.

Cartman gave an offended gasp, Kenny stepped back again, "I'll have you know I take great care of kitty."

"Oh yeah?" Kyle challenged, Kenny turned around to leave, "The how come Kennys taking care of it?"

"I'll have you know homework sucks and takes a lot of my time," Cartman spat defensively.

Kenny barely got out in the chaos that was forming.

-/-/-/-

Kenny isn't sure if you can go into a pre-rut through vigorous stress alone but it certainly feels like he is. Every nerve in his body is on fire in the worst was possible and he's nesting. He distantly feels shame for cocooning himself up in the corner of his closet but he just wants to hide from society and Kyle alike.

If a person in power finds out, both him and Kyle will be culled or ran out of town because they can't bring anything to society. And if Kyle finds out he'll panic because what happens when his parents find out? He'll freak out and try to distance himself from Kenny as much as possible for safety.

Kennys stomach does flips at the notions of having Kyle leave him, leave all of them because of him. He'd rather burn off his mark and say he just never had one then fess up and ruin Kyles life. But then again putting him on a wild goose chase for a soulmark that doesn't exist anymore is just as cruel.

What is he even supposed to do?

Well, first he freezes up at the sound of his window sliding open and someone climbing in. He knows it isn't a robber because his family sure as hell can't afford anything worth stealing. Which narrows it down to three people, Cartman, Stan, or Kyle- and he's never wanted to see Cartman more in his life than right now. He pushes himself deeper into the pitiful pile of blankets and pillows he calls a nest, he tugs the drawstrings on his parka a bit tighter.

"Kenny?" Came Kyles soft voice floating across the stagnant air into Kennys ears, it lit an uneasy fire in Kennys stomach, one he wanted to snuff.

He drug himself out of his nest before stepping out, eyes landing on Kyle. Poor, vulnerable, unarmed Kyle. Someone who'd end up with a better life dead if he finds out who his soulmark matches with.

Kenny can't stop his reflex from firing until it's already begun. Kyle is pinned under him on the bed and he freezes up near entirely. Labored breathing resting heavy by his head and the quake of Kennys form above him. Grip on his wrists sweaty and weak, the scent he catches is more distress than anything else.

"Leave," It's supposed to be a demand but it comes out far too cracked.

"Kenny get off of me," Kyle commands, holding his voices edge like a knife as he watches his friend stand up and back away. His face is red and he looks distraught, hands up in surrender.

He takes a shaky breath, "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry Kyle," His voice cracks as he leans against a wall, sliding down it.

Kyle stands up and brushes himself down, ignoring the racing sound of his heartbeat, "It's fine, instincts or whatever, you could've just said your pre-rut was coming on."

Kenny shakes his head, "Not, not just for that."

Kyle steps over to him, "Then why are you sorry bro.

The McCormick reaches to the cuff of his pants and tugs it up. He outstretches his leg and points to his soulmark, inky black as the day it ruined his life, "This."

Kyle stares for a moment, "Oh."

"I'm sorry," Kenny got out quietly, "I can go die in the woods if you want me too, go live a hermit life so I don't ruin yours." He draws his knees to his chest as he speaks.

Kyle sits down on his knees in front of him, "Kenny it's fine."

"It isn't, they'll ruin us Kyle, they'll throw us out and crucify us," Kenny said bluntly, trying to keep his voice even.

"No, Kenny, this is perfect," Kyle said, Kenny lifted his head a bit, "I always needed an excuse to kiss you."

"What?" Kenny managed to croak out.

"I just, thought you would find it weird cause we're both Alphas," Kyle said, bringing his hands to one of Kennys before placing their wrists together. He's hesitant to actually rub, "Scent mark?"

Kenny nodded, "Do it, please."

Kyle rubs their wrists together easily, his own scent bursting atop Kennys as they mixed a bit. Kyles scent was like like mandarin oranges and creek water, a cold and refreshing smell atop the burst of fruit. He took a deep breath, "I've sorta had a crush on you for a while."

"Feelings mutual," Kenny choked out.

Kyle placed a hand at Kennys cheek and he whined as he leaned into the touch, "No one has to know."

Kenny gave a weak laugh, "Cartman does."

"You told him?!" Kyle snapped.

"No, he was there when my mark appeared so he knows we match," Kenny explained as he placed a hand on Kyles.

"He's gonna spread so many rumors," Kyle grimaced.

"He knows better, why do you think he defended my shitty excuse?" Kenny asked with a raised brow.

"Good point," Kyle said, he placed a small kiss to Kennys forehead, "Love you bro."

"No one has to know?" Kenny asked desperately.

Kyle shook his head, "Naw, Stans pretty smart so I wouldn't be shocked if he deduced it right then and there."

Kenny nodded, "You're smarter."

Kyle gave a hum, "Thanks."

"I'm sorry for running off," Kenny said quietly.

"Dude stop saying sorry, you're not a fucking Canadian," Kyle said bluntly as he stood up and held out a hand that Kenny gladly took.

"Our childhood is built on Canadian entertainment, watch your mouth," Kenny said defensively.

"Make me," Kyle said with a smirk.

"You're lucky I'm not actually in pre-rut right now," Kenny said, a predatory grin on his face.

"Oh I look forward to it," Kyle said.

#k2week2023 #k2 south park #sp k2 #south park k2 #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #eric cartman #hes really good at being a side character #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #tw omegaverse

9 notes · View notes