#malachi next

[beea-idiot56]

An Aphmau and Levin Onshot

I constantly think of levin and Aphmau being each other's safe haven and I constantly think about the fact that Levin was one of the only things that kept her going(for season 1 at least, I'm in the process of season 2 so I'm less sure about that during that time period)

so i decided to write a little one-shot of the two of them :) feel free to read and honestly if anyone wanted to let me know if they enjoyed it and would be interested in me writing a garroth x reader (based on if you like how I write) that would be great!

the one shot is below the cut teehee

The nights and days had always blended together, as the sun rised so would the ever-growing checklist of people to see, problems to solve, and places to go. Sometimes it was exhausting, sometimes it was exciting. However, as of late, it became unbearable. With Zane and the threat of O’khasis around the corner, the fear of not knowing when or if Garroth would be taken from her, and the pain of simply losing sleep every night Aphmau had found herself becoming weaker and more frail. Her body was screaming at her. Her limbs ached, her neck had a nick, she had enormous eye bags under her eyes, and she found it hard to smile most times. Dealing with the villagers had become nothing more than a chore. The old greetings that had put her in high spirits had now made her exhausted. Coming home, even going up the stairs had become a task. Most days she found herself walking alongside Garroth who had refused to leave her side when he saw the disheveled look of his lord. With insistent pleads he would walk her up the stairs, saying he was worried she might pass out on the way and get hurt. Then, as they would reach the top, he would pat her shoulder and wish her a good night.

“Sleep well, m’lady” he spoke, his voice gruff and muffled from behind his helm.  “You as well, Garroth” Aphmau mumbled, entering the house as she did so, a smile planted on her face but immediately dropping as she entered. Leaning back on the door she let a thick sigh come from her throat, her feet aching as she lowered herself to the floor. There was no sound coming from the home, only the cackling fire of the torches placed throughout. 

“Mommy?” a small voice rang out and Aphmau opened her eyes to see Levin standing across the way from her. He had been peering down from the corner where his door led from, holding the stuffed bunny that was gifted to him so long ago. 

“Oh! Levin, what are you doing awake? Zoey should've put you to sleep by now.” Aphmau spoke, standing quickly and heading up the stairs to go help her son with whatever had kept him up for so long.  “Oh! Zoey did! But, Levin want see Mommy! Before sleep!” he spoke, his sentences still broken with young age. Aphmau let out a little chuckle, feeling her shoulders drop a little, 

“Oh Levin, Mommy stays out too late for you to do that. You should be getting your sleep!” she spoke, her voice shaking a little. Such a small gesture, one that to most kids would be as simple as an act of rebellion and giddy mischief rather than the heart-touching feelings that Aphmau felt at this moment.  “Yes! But! Levin miss mommy. Levin see mommy sad. Smile!” his voice was loud with a child-like innocence that if bottled up it could be sold for millions of dollars to those who only knew the world's struggles. Aphmau smiled, small tears running down her cheeks as she let out a little laugh, “I miss you too Levin. Come on, do you want to sleep in mommy's bed tonight?” she spoke softly before Levin jumped about yelling ‘yay! Mommy bed!’ over and over, she only laughed and picked up the small boy and set him on her hip before unlocking the door to her room and entering. 

Aphmau lit a candle, setting Levin down on the bed before going behind the blinds to take off her heavy armor and switch into something that was slightly more comfortable. Aphamau sighed before walking over to the bed and sitting down on it, Levin looked up at her with tired eyes

“Why Mommy no smile?” he asked, his sleepy voice becoming softer and softer by the moment. It left Aphmau speechless and for a moment she didn't respond.  “Sometimes, big people have jobs they need to do, and sometimes those jobs are very hard. When the jobs are hard it can cause big people to feel…” Aphmau searched for the word, not knowing how to explain the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness and tiredness that had been constantly weighing on her shoulders for the past few months, “heavy.” she finally decided on a word. Not thinking Levin would understand, but it would be enough to satisfy his curious spirit. She looked over to see him nodding, he then smiled  “Then mommy have stuffie!” Levin held out his stuffed animal, before cuddling up to the pillow next to her and against the wall, “when Levin feel tired and heavy, Levin hugs stuffy feels better! Levin knows mommy will too!” Levin spoke, before finally drifting to sleep, a small smile on his face,  completely unaware of the fact that the simple gesture had left Ahmau in tears as she held onto the bunny that Levin had “given” her. 

Aphmau looked over to Levin, before leaning down and kissing the top of his head and tucking him into the covers. Finally, she blew out the candle and lay down on her side, letting an arm rest over the small child, and the other held onto the bunny with such tightness that the fluffy cloth had pillowed over her hand. Tears streamed down her cheeks. 

This boy had been dropped at her doorstep so long ago, his mother had given him up for his safety in turn for her life of freedom. Would Aphmau be able to do the same? If it came to war, would Aphmau be able to say goodbye to the children so she could keep them safe? The answer felt so second nature it was almost painful, absolutely.

[roxxie-spirt]

Alright…. Big big post mainly just drawings

A drawing of Leona! Dell ( Brendan’s and Issas little girl grown ) and the twins! Leona loves her cousins and siblings so much

A myst post as well??!! Ofc! Because this is the only universe where jakes alive and well. This was just for funzies Jake(6) with his baby bro zenith 💞

Now for a relationship chart for my main next gen’s canon and fanon. I did forget to add dell so that’s why there’s extra… my canon babies are all grown up…

Malachi Levin Lilith Alina Elliot - laurmau

Zenith - goey/garzo

Gregory- vylacey

Leona didi Zachary - zanki

Trevor - Travlyn

Justice- Locinda (Lo x Lucinda for those who don’t know)

Dell -brendan x issa ofc

[loveryss]

[romeave-wives-club]

Okay but the kids/next gen don't get enough love I swear.

My baby boys Levin & Malachi have been running a village as Lords while being so young (well in Levin's case anyways-)

And my lovely Leona is so strong for everything she's been through and they barely even COVERED the topic of her coping with Zane as her father like Canon MCD!Zane is a horrible person (still bbg tho) and yet she never has like issues with it?? was she not told or did she just not care??

AND MY BOY KYLE- HE IS LIKE DANTE JR. BRO CANNOT FORGET. And will likely outlive his friends & family-

[whimhaven]

spring is around the corner and sable had the kids join her in getting the farm set. with the kids starting highschool soon, sable made their time preparing for spring as a teaching moment about responsibility. safe to say delilah and malachi are eager to start school!

[greymouse42]

alright!!! What Malachi would do if stuck in an elevator with: -Myles -Maria -Skeeter -Jan Separately, and then bonus ask of the entire knockoff mystery gang! And then bonus bonus for Lyons. Sorry this is such a long ask but it's worth it i promise

HELLO this was very funny and I jumped on it immediately.

Myles → Myles has a multitool in his pocket and this is the moment that Mal goes “oh man I should really carry a multitool in my pocket.” They are breaking into the access panel within minutes, and I don't think they can get the elevator working again but they do have fun.

Maria → They have a really nice conversation. After pressing the emergency help button (like reasonable people), I think they both go “thank God, a break,” and sit down and Maria gets to explain the plot of whatever serial drama she's watching or has Mal commiserating over whatever latest conspiracy theory her nephew believes in. They both come out of it going “man we should grab coffee sometime, that was pleasant.”

Skeeter → same as Myles but Mal doesn't say a word the whole time and doesn't have fun, but Skeeter does actually get the elevator working again.

Jan → doesn't even make it to the emergency button… that's a meme answer — the actual answer is that it should be totally fine. Long silences with Jan are usually comfortable. But they're both usually doing something. The combo of “we're stuck” and “there is nothing to do” and “it feels like we should be talking but neither of us want to do that” and “it's hot in here—” could very quickly lead to…. /hand wave/

Knockoff Mystery Gang → Mal is wedged in the corner spectating/refereeing and pretending he's not as insane as the rest of these weirdos. He's on Maria's side no matter what she decides to do.

Lyons → 40 minutes of Lyons trying to talk Malachi out of climbing up the elevator shaft, interspersed with a few minutes of silence whenever she thinks she's successfully convinced her feral ferret of a partner to not climb up the elevator shaft, are you insane. Unstoppable Force meets Immovable Object argument. There's only, like, 12 years between them but Lyons is feeling Every Single One Of Those Years for the 40 minutes she's trapped in an elevator with this man. She comes out of the situation thinking that Mal must be moderately claustrophobic. Mal was honestly just bored and likes arguing recreationally.

[theradicalace]

people are niceys to me :)

[starhvney]

can you do an angsty laurance mcd (romantically) where reader has been waiting for his return and they reunite after he was stuck in the neither?

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd laurance x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: he can’t stay with you as long as the war underground calls to him. to stay with you he has to leave, not returning until three years later. 

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: angst, lots of resent and crying, but then hurt/comfort, malachi is reader’s adopted son with laurance cause i said so

𝐂𝐖: none?

𝐀/𝐍: omg the past two weeks have been so busy i actually thought i might have gone insane if i didn’t have this day off to write this. but i'm back from the dead(work) anyways this prompt has actually been in my mind a lot so thank you for the request! hope it hurts

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“please come back with me. you don’t have to do this.”

your chest hurt. whether it was from the man in front of you or the unbearable heat, you weren’t sure, but you found yourself choking on the air, lungs constricting and heart rushing cold blood uncomfortably fast through your veins. 

you could tell he was angry that you came here. not at you. no, never at you. but the fact you came alone and risked your safety for him again had him nearly spiraling, his jaw clenched and hands gripping uncomfortably tight against your arms.

it was still him, you reminded yourself, as you pleadingly looked up to the pools of blood red that pierced through you. it was an unsettling shade, the color startling against his face yet somehow dull and dark at the same time. it was so different from the steel blue before it, and the beautiful green before that. 

yes, you’d seen him in many different ways, and though he was naturally taller, and the air around him sent an anxious wave down your spine, it was still him.

the same olive skin and caramel hair, though a duller shade.

the same shape of his face.

the same determination in his eyes. 

the same urge to protect you, no matter how much this new form of his ached to do the opposite. 

“i told you not to follow me. you shouldn’t be here—”

“i couldn’t just let you leave!”

he sucks in a breath, your name leaving his lips with a sense of urgency and irritation.

“…i can’t go with you. you know i can’t.” his voice is tight, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your eyes glossing over. “it would be selfish. i put you at risk just by being next to you.”

you start to shake your head, but swallow down your next words at the way he says your name again, desperate for you to understand. 

“he’s in my head when you’re near me. i can’t keep you safe when it’s just us, because it isn’t just us. that calling clouds my mind and—he almost got to me, and you know it. i almost killed you.”

you’re silenced by this, knowing he was right. the horror on his face when he realized his blade was raised against you had set forward the timeline that got him here. he’d forever feel chained to this place unless he broke the chains himself.

“if i ever want to have a future with you, i have to do this. don’t you understand? until this war is over you have to stay away.”

“no…” you shake your head, tears beginning to spill from your lashes.

it was out of your control. the salty crystalline that slipped down your face. it was the same as the man in front of you, each second left with him like trying to hold water in your hands, continuing to slip through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to grasp it. 

his eyes close, face pained, looking like someone was about to end his second life right there where he stood. 

“i love you. i always will. you have to know i’m doing this for you.”

he dips down, lips crashing into yours with a desperation that you couldn’t put into words. it’s not enough, too short-lived as his hands suddenly grip your waist, manhandling you up as he carries you to the portal.

“no, no! laurance, put me down! you have to come with me!” tears have turned into hysteria, your fists pushing and beating against him to no avail.

“i’m doing this for you.” his voice wavers shakily, contradicting his firm hold and long strides. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m hurting you again and i’m so sorry.”

“stop! i won’t go through that portal unless i know you’re coming with me.”

your name leaves his lips once more, pleading and desperate for you to understand. “i’ll return to you. i swear i will.”

his arms tighten around you, face shifting to rest in the crook of your neck and lips pressing against the skin for just a moment. you think he could’ve changed his mind, but the next second your feet are back on the ground, and his hands are gently pushing you through the portal in your disorientation.

you stumble through, cool air meeting your back as the nether fades from your vision and is replaced by the overworld. your feet trip over the other as you try to catch your step, falling back and turning to look back at the portal through your hazy vision. before you can scramble back the purple mist solidifies, shattering and collapsing to the floor into crystallized pieces.

you started in shock for who knows how long, curled on the stone beneath you as sobs wracked your whole body.

you don’t remember the trip back to phoenix drop after that. you only recall the horrid feeling that your heart had just been torn from your body, left behind in the fiery hell it’s owner had condemned himself to. 

that emptiness never evaded you either. you went through day-to-day life completing your duties as normal. but at night when you were left with your thoughts, your mind wandered to him. the space in your bed felt bitterly cold, almost as if the emptiness was taunting you of the lack of his presence.

the boy the two of you had taken in as your own all that time ago was extra sweet on you, despite all the time you had missed with him. when you returned that night he had looked at you expectantly, only for his green eyes to fade in hope as he saw your puffy eyes and grieved expression.

soon a whole year had passed. then another. then another. it was what you had presumed to be another ordinary day, as you prepared a lunch for you and malachi to share on his break. you recognize his footsteps, but when you turn to greet him you’re met with a concerned expression and heavy pants from the boy.

“he’s back.”

you hate how you immediately knew what he meant, even after all this time. how your heart swelled tightly in your chest and rushed the adrenaline into your veins. 

you can only stare blankly at the boy in the doorway, mouth open in shock and mind scrambling for some sort of reaction to give. he turns to look at something approaching him from out of sight, a protective frown forming on his face.

“mom, do you want to see him? you have to tell me now.”

a small part of you wants to say no, to resentfully send that man away for the loneliness he left you with. your head is nodding before your thoughts can resist, following the desperate tug in your chest rather than your brain screaming for the opposite.

your breath hitches when the taller man who had been haunting your mind for so long steps into view. you wonder if maybe you had fallen ill and this is all just a fever dream, but you know it’s not a hallucination or a memory as you take in his appearance. 

he looks like a man returning from war, circles under his eyes darker than they had been all those years ago. new scars are littered across the skin that you could see, and his posture was that of extreme exhaustion.

him and your son stare at each other for a moment in the doorway, a silent and sort of awkward moment that you couldn’t decipher being exchanged. malachi gives you one last wary glance, before disappearing from your sight and leaving the two of you alone.

you want to scream at him, hit him, something. but you can only focus on the lump building in your throat, choking your airways as a painful sob threatens to break out from your chest.

he takes a step forward, then another. then another. soon he’s right in front of you, not in the haze of your dreams but tangible and real. 

his hand, rough and scarred, lifts up to cup your soft cheek, fingers trembling as if you had sent a shock through them just by the contact. your name shakily leaves his lips, and you finally look up to his face.

you’re greeted with steel blue, glazed over with pain and guilt. something about them is much more hardened than when you saw him last, yet he still manages to look at you tenderly, full of a deep devotion he could never get rid of even through his years spent in hell.

his thumb brushes away the damp streaks from under your eyes, and you finally realize you had begun to cry. you had thought about this moment many times. how you’d call him a bastard for leaving you alone and kick him out to get a taste of his own medicine. or maybe you’d tell him all about the loneliness he’d put you through, watching his face drop with guilt.

instead of using any of the dialogue you had prepared in your moments of spite, you can only utter a few words, voice choked on your tears. 

“is it over?”

he nods, eyebrows furrowing together and lip curling as if your voice had caused him physical pain after years of deprivation from the sound.

you collapse forward into his arms, years of raw emotion crashing down on you all at once as you begin to sob.

“it’s over. if you let me in i’ll never leave again.” his hushed voice speaks into your hair, the deep and roughened tone vibrating through his chest. “but if you want nothing to do with me anymore you only have to say the word and i will obey.”

you can only shake your head, chest heaving as you grip the linen shirt he wore and attempt to steady yourself on your feet. there’s not much need for your efforts though, when he picks you up into a tight embrace, holding you to him as he trembles at the feeling of your body once again pressing into his. 

“i’ll never leave you again. i’m so sorry. my light in the darkness. please forgive me.”

he carries you to the nearest chair, fingers running through your hair like they were delicate strands of gold and continuing to hold you to him like you were the only thing worth any value in this life. as you continued to cry you felt tears that were not your own drip onto your skin, the shaky breaths and hitches in his chest proving you weren’t just imagining things as he too wept into the crook of your neck.

you two stay there for a long time, until the afternoon sun faded to a dim evening light, casting a warm haze into the room. it’s not until then that you feel composed, lifting yourself from where you had limply collapsed into his arms.

his hands gently hold your face, rubbing away the leftover tears and puffiness from your eyes. his own eyelids were red, eyes glossy. now that you’re looking at him you can see just how much his time away had changed him. 

his once lovely olive skin had sallowed into a paler shade, leaving him sickly looking. his cheeks were thinner, and the lack of body fat wasn’t just on his face. he remained muscular, yet he somehow looked malnourished at the same time, his scarred skin stretching over his bones and muscles in a way that didn’t look healthy.

your fingers trail along healed over cuts that hadn’t been there before, gulping down the urge to cry again. how many times did he have to patch himself up, suffering in pain while fighting to get back to you?

“hey.” he gently pinches your cheek in his hand, noticing your eyes unfocus as your mind wanders. 

you look up to him, taking in a shaky breath as you reach up to cup his jaw in your hand. immediately he leans into it, a deep sigh leaving his nose as he practically deflates at your touch.

“when did you get back…?”

he sighs, looking up at you through his lashes.

“i came here as soon as i came back through the portal… malachi was on patrol and spotted me at the gates.” his eyes grow distant. “he was… pretty angry with me. looked like he wanted to kill me as soon as i walked in the village.”

he chuckles dryly, looking at the wall behind you. “he cussed me out pretty good before leading me here. he had some good reasons for doing so, too…" he takes in a shaky breath. "i’m proud of him. i’m relieved to know he was watching over you when i wasn’t. that kid’s grown up to be a good man.”

“he is.” you agree, voice quiet in the moment, unable to come up with any words.

his hand drifts to brush your hair behind your ear, fingers trailing to brush along your jaw. “you have plenty of reasons to hate me, too.”

“he doesn’t hate you.” you quickly say. “and i don’t either.”

“i was scared you would. sure you would.”

your eyes drift from the guilty pull of his brow and the pain in his eyes, down to the slope of his nose and the curve of his mouth.

“i couldn’t.” you whisper, before leaning down and connecting your lips with his.

he wraps his arms tighter around you, breath stuttering as he returns the affection. very quickly it evolves to you being left breathless as he practically devours you, kissing you like a man who had been starved of his lover's touch for three years.

reluctantly he pulls away, gritting his teeth as he once again finds himself reigning his self control in with you. he doesn’t go too far though, his huffs of air meeting your lips as he whispers.

“it’s late. i should go.”

“go where?”

“just the inn down the road—”

“no. stay here tonight.”

he stares at you before closing his eyes, a low groan leaving his throat. “are you sure?”

“yes.” you quickly respond, hands cupping his face.

he gulps, before pulling you tightly to himself and lifting you in his arms, carrying you to your bedroom.

“okay. i’ll stay.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[garussy]

Dante is THE littlest brother of all time

This man was babied by Aphmau and Garroth and ruthlessly bullied by Laurance

Aphmau braided his hair and dressed him up in all of the fancy dresses Cadenza made her

She doesn’t remember having a childhood but she knows from watching Alexis and Leona play with Kyle, Levin, Malachi, and Yip that it’s a right of passage to dress your brother up in princess dresses

They introduce him as their baby brother

He is 6’3” something next to an itty bitty woman but he is her tiny little baby brother

He only looks like a little brother next to Garroth and Laurance and barely with Laurance

He is the Phoenix Drop baby brother

They don’t care if he is older than some of the residents he is the baby brother

Nicole and Nana both got the “if you hurt my baby brother” talk but it honestly didn’t scare either of them

Nicole knows no fear as a young adult and Nana was a grown woman with a husband, daughter, and step son she is not going to break Dante’s heart

[jinkiesmariz]

So I did like three more headshots cuz I got sidetracked during a comm Anywaysssss

Presenting Malachi first :33 my beautiful lovely baby boy who is most definitely the prettiest boy in the village. Definitely would be more of a heartbreaker if like. He didn’t accidentally speak like Phoenix Drop’s equivalent of a medieval poet trying to converse with like modern day folks.

Also I gave him a bandana because everyone and their mother has a green scarf and it gets far too confusing and aggravating after awhile

Erm next is Molly :33 I do have a Molly design page I never shared and I won’t ever share cuz I never finished it ♡ anyways to me she definitely is like a waitress/head lady at a tavern with an inn on the second floor in Phoenix Drop, at least I believe she met Dale there and sparks flew between the two or something. Idk I like drawing her holding two big glasses of beer and having some level of charisma even if she’s like overbearing and shit outside of work.

And lastly Yip :3 tbh I looked at my whole doodle sheet and realized I accidentally like drew blondes vs brunettes so I ended it off with yip even tho he technically has black hair and not brown hair I like to think he has a pretty ample amount of body hair and thick wavy hair from the werewolf genes and also just cuz he’s gorgeous or whatever. The town’s big brother and I don’t really remember much sorryyyyy lol

I also think he has sharpened and slightly elongated ears but not in the way elves/half elves do but more of a weird shape idk I’ll draw it better later just guess for now

Oh and like one final thing I accidentally mistook Alexis for having a crush on Malachi and not Yip so I drew this to show how he just effortlessly sparkles before Cal told me I was wrong <\3

My beautiful boy with gorgeous lashes and droopy sparkly eyes or whatever. I would’ve drawn him with his hair tied but he would’ve looked too much like vylad to me and I would’ve gotten mad so unpractical hair it is!!!

Ehe thats all for today and probably the next couple of weeks so toodles ☆

[running-with-kn1ves]

sooo you know how you wrote jealous bf x reader...would you ever considered writing the same reader witnessing someone flirting with jealous bf and flipping the roles on him?

On a crunch time so I'll just write some shortsie stuff for this ^^

I think jealous bf would want to see what reader would do before he acts. They'd be at a bar together, maybe reader went to the bathroom only to come back and find another pair of hands trying to roam against their boyfriend's shirt, a new untouched drink on the counter that this mystery person is tempting him to drink. Malachi would purposefully entertain them, subconsciously testing reader to see what they would do. Do they love him enough to stake their claim? How far are they willing to go, as far as he would?

I imagine reader wouldn't be as aggressive as Malachi-- likely stunned for a moment, before coming up and trying to drag him away.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Reader might ask, feigning cluelessness while wrapping his free hand in both of theirs, gently pulling him away from the bar rat.

"Nothing, just waiting for you. Seems i've caught the eye of a few others."

He'd prod, trying to invoke a reaction out of reader, not letting this sink into unspoken discussion like so many things between them do. He wanted, needed, you to verbalize your thoughts on watching him potentially get snatched up like a prize for the taking. He'd never betray or abandon you like that, but what did you think?

"Yeah? Maybe we should start wearing rings whenever we go out then."

Reader would joke, but the idea strikes Malachi so wonderfully that he won't hesitate to start shopping for garishly obvious promise rings for you both to sport before the night is over.

If it was a friend of reader's who kept pushing themselves onto Malachi or shamelessly flirting, I imagine reader would get pretty pissed, complaining and ranting to Malachi how they had the audacity to act so cutesy around THEIR boyfriend. This, Malachi likes best. He likes seeing reader pissed, upset over someone else wanting him. Makes him feel like maybe he's not the only obsessed, needy one in the relationship. He'll soothe reader, saying he's not going anywhere, that no one could replace them. And yet, the next time someone tries to flirt with him around reader, you won't find him discouraging their advances as obviously as a boyfriend should. He wants you to come in and be his savior.

[xerith-42]

I was wrong

It takes a lot to admit that, even more for me to admit that about MCD, but I was wrong about something in regards to this series. In a previous post I said that the worst episode of MCD was Season 2 Episode 95, because it was the culmination of the absolute failure that was Laurance's character arc. And I wasn't wrong about that, S2E95 is an objectively bad episode and I stand by it being one of the worst. But it's only one of the worst episodes of this series. Probably second or third worst.

The actual worst episode of Minecraft Diaries happens far earlier in it's run time than I anticipated. The actual episode that begins the degrading of every single main character happens within it's first season. The worst episode of Minecraft Diaries is Season 1 Episode 65, Our Fears.

For those of you who haven't watched MCD in a minute, or aren't insane like I am and recognize what happens in an episode from just a number and a thumbnail, this is the episode where Aphmau and Dante get chased into Malachi's abandoned castle and fall victim to his uncontrollable magic. A magic that shows people their greatest fears.

Now the concept of a ghost that forces the audience and the characters to come face to face with the leading characters greatest fears is a fantastic idea. I'm serious this is one of the best concepts for character work in the entire Aphverse. This is great, this can go so many good ways.

Aphmau's fear is pretty weak mostly because it shows her house on fire, nobody hurt, and Malachi comments that she's "Scared of losing the ones you love." My honest reaction to this was "She lost her house in episode 36 and didn't seem to care because her loved ones are safe. You wanna communicate that she's scared of people dying just show Zoey lying on the ground or something smh." It gets the job done, but not very well.

Dante's fear is the only one that's well done because it's an image of Gene about to rip apart the realm barrier in the Nether. This works surprisingly well despite only being one shot because it gets across Dante's connection to Gene and the Nether pretty well, setting up for the reveal later on. Dante's existence is this episode's single redeeming quality. And as much as I like the guy, he's not enough to hold up the episode after what happens next.

Now, dear viewer who presumably knows the plot of MCD because you've read this far into a post about this single episode, you know that at this point in the series Garroth has been found out by his brother and has the looming threat of the entire O'Khasis military on his mind all the damn time. Zane has already hurt members of his village in direct ways, and only didn't do more damage because he was called away for an emergency. Garroth has already failed to protect one lord, and he's nearly failed to protect another.

Laurance is a shadow knight. And even though the lore of shadow knights is still flimsy at this point, we know that they are very prone to killing lords, it's why Laurance renounced his position as head guard of Meteli and refuses to return. But that doesn't mean his desire for blood is gone. It just means it has a new target. Like say, the lord he comes to the castle in search of? That he has explicit romantic feelings for?

Again, this idea of forcing the audience and the characters to face their greatest fears is such a good idea, especially with these three, because they can all be interlinked. Aphmau fears losing her loved ones, Garroth fears failing to protect his people, and Laurance fears that he'll give into bloodlust. Are you picking up what I'm putting down? I don't know if I can make it anymore obvious where the show should have gone from here.

But, no, unfortunately Jesson wrote this series. So what could have been one of the best moments of character work in the entire series, instead became the beginning of the end for our would be love interests. I'm of course referring to how it's revealed that their actual "worst fear" is Aphmau getting with... Another guy. Not even her picking one over the other, just her holding hands with and kissing some guy that Garroth and Laurance DON'T EVEN KNOW!

And despite Laurance saying he's happy as long as he has Aphmau in his life, he starts getting enraged that another guy would have the audacity to kiss her. Even though the scene he's shown seems to be entirely consensual. And in response to this, BOTH OF THEM DECIDE TO TRY AND KILL THIS ILLUSION OF DANTE JUST FOR KISSING THE GIRL THEY LIKE!

AND THIS IS SEEN AS A GOOD THING BY THE SHOW!! Attacking this illusion breaks the barrier around the real Aphmau and Dante, and Garroth and Laurance are never punished for their actions here. Aphmau is barely concerned that her guards, the men she's willing to trust with her life, were willing to kill someone for the crime of kissing her. Hot fucking take, Aphmau maybe shouldn't trust these people after seeing that they're willing to kill a man over the crime of loving her when they want to.

And even hotter take, GARROTH AND LAURANCE WOULDN'T DO THIS! Both men have been shown to be highly protective over Aphmau, which makes sense it's literally their job to keep her safe, but that protective nature shouldn't cross over into actively interfering with her romantic life. They're fucking lucky it was just an illusion, what would have happened if Malachi used mind control? What if he was using Aphmau and Dante's bodies as puppets? What if Garroth and Laurance just killed an amateur guard whose only crime was being forced to kiss the girl they liked?

This is one of those writing decisions that truly baffles me. It was RIGHT THERE, HOW DID YOU MISS, IT (the perfect piece of character work) WAS THREE FEET IN FRONT OF YOU! The answer is that Jesson don't really care about the interesting character work, they care about tropes. They care about the main character being in a love triangle with two guys who equally suck but in different ways. They care about fans getting excited and debating over which ship is better. They care about pushing this love triangle onto viewers regardless of what makes sense for the characters involved because the writers fail to see the nuance of the characters that they fucking wrote the nuance of.

I fucking hate Episode 65. Easily the worst episode of MCD. Any episode after this when Garroth and Laurance act horrendously out of character in service of this love triangle (I'm looking at you episode 77, and episode 90, and season 2 episode 95, and season 2 episode 98), know that it started here. It started with episode 65.

Fuck this episode.

[loveryss]

Globetrotter will return next week!

[saturnville]

in the dirty south.

pairing: cowboy!coriolanus snow x black fem oc. warnings: old slang, sexual innuendo, flirting, sorta forbidden infatuation if you blink. shy!oc. content: while at a town fair with her family, delilah finds herself heavily infatuated with the new face in town. an: the people have spoken. cowboy!coriolanus is here. definitely called on my grandmother's southern roots for this so be prepared. I don't know who started cowboy!coriolanus, but all respect and credit to the individual who did. please let me know what y'all think of this!

tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim to keep your spot on the tag list, you are expected to interact!

Outside visiters were not a common occurance the city. The town was small and everybody knew everybody. One would be a fool to think anything that occured in their lives wouldn't be common knowledge to the inhabitants of the town. She wished she had the same type of delusion.

Once every few months, the mayor of the town found it suitable to host a fair. Something to ease the growing tensions between the families and to usher in a type of fun no one had seen since the rebellions took place.

She wouldn't say she didn't enjoy the fairs, but she knew there were other ways to spend her time aside from handing out freshly baked slices of poundcake and a cup of milk, courtesy of her mother and grandmother.

"Delilah! It's time to go, baby." Her mother's voice was rough like gravel yet soothing like silk. Everyone called her comparison foolish, as they didn't understand. But, until they felt the way her words calmed their soul like a newborn being rocked by its mother, they never would.

Delilah hollered back, "Comin', mama!" She stood in front of the mirror--dingy and stained from being passed down from her great-great-grandmother, and so short that she had to stand on her toes to see her full outfit. Her hands swiped over the fabric of her dress. It was new; her grandmother spent 3 weeks making it. A corset dress as bright as the dust that left her shoulders exposed to the kisses of the sun. She smiled at her reflection and pushed her hair away from her face. She shoved her feet into her boots and ran down the stairs.

Delilah questioned if they arrived late or if everyone else arrived early in anticipation. She bobbed and weaved through the sea of black and brown with a smile on her face. Small "pardon mes" and "excuse mes" poured from her lips like water as she attempted not to knock anyone over with her basket.

She followed her mother like a lost puppy to their assigned tent. Right next to Uncle Turner's barbeque restauraunt and the bathroom. Perfect, she said to herself. Lucille dropped the basket against the wood table and began plucking out the tablecloth and napkins.

"Lilah, I'm gon' grab some pitchers of water inside Turner's. I'll be back shortly." Mama's lips turned upward with a soft smile. Delilah nodded and continued her setting up the table.

Beads of sweat gathered at her forehead and her brown skin stung under the gaze of a burning sun. God, she hoped they wouldn't be outside for 10 hours like they were the last time. She couldn't sworn she melted like an ice cream cone within an hour.

Delilah hummed a church hymn to herself and tossed the basket behind her. She plopped down on the ragged bench and crossed her legs just as her mother taught her years ago, folded her hands over her lap, and watched as people walked passed.

People watching was one of her favorite pasttimes. To her left was a young girl riding on her wooden rocking horse, squealing with glee. To her right was a group of young boys tackling each other to the ground as their mother hollered for them to quit roughhousing. Delilah giggled.

She raised her eyes and jerked backward when she saw a group of men walking past. Four of them to be exact. Three were familiar faces: Elijah, Malachi, and Ezra. The boys whom she grew up with. They used to sleep in the same bed together when their mothers worked at the restaurant late at night. But, there was another one she'd never seen before.

He was unfamiliar. There were a few white boys sprinkled here and there, but in her town, it wasn't a frequent occurance. He seemed comfortable, too, with a boyish smirk on his face as he made the boys' head fly back with glee.

She could tell his hands were strong by the way they latched around the harness that allowed him to control the beautiful horse he rode upon. She looked around and saw other women eyeing the stranger. Who was he?

The man slid off the horse and tied the harness against a stake, and followed the men as they approached her mother's tent. His eyes were curious as they examined his surroundings. Delilah brushed the loose curls away from her face and smiled. "Hi, boys."

A series of disgruntled greetings came from them as they padded around the bench to engulf Delilah in a hug. The stranger stayed in front of her, eyes narrow.

"Where's Mama?" Elijah asked. His green eyes searched for the middle-aged woman.

"She's in Turner's getting some water. Might as well help her while you're lookin' for her," Delilah suggested with a shrug. She could feel icy eyes on her. "She'll mess around and drop them tryin' to do the most. Go catch up to her."

"Delilah," said Malachi. "This is Coriolanus. We, uh, we go back. Old friends. We're gon' help, Mama, but Lilah, don't scare him off." Delilah met his eyes. "I won't."

The boys shuffled off to the restaurant to find her mother, which left Delilah in the presence of Coriolanus. It was unique. She'd never heard anything like it. It sounded prestigious, elite.

He was handsome. Messy curls underneath his hat. Strong stature covered by a thick long-sleeve shirt and vest. Her gaze dropped to his belt. Brown with a holster that held, what she assumed was, a fully loaded pistol. And his boots, worn, dirty, and scuffed, just like hers. A country boy.

"Delilah. Nice to meet you, Mr. Coriolanus." Delilah extended her hand slowly. Coriolanus turned his head to the side. Her hands were slender and her nailbeds were painted a blood red. His tongue danced over his tooth.

"No need for that, darling. Nice to meet you," he replied, gently shaking her hand. His hand was much bigger in hers. Calloused like he wrestled animals in the wilderness. Strong like they'd hold her body upright with ease. His eye contact was strong and he could feel it melting her chocolate orbs away.

When he spoke, she noticed that his accent was nowhere as thick as her own, but a southern twang was laced in his words. Almost like he'd been taught. "Where are you from?" To keep herself from getting weak in the knees, she decided to start setting out the serving ware for the cake. Coriolanus' eyes followed her every action.

"Up north," he replied shortly. "Got in a bit of a mess. Decided to come down south for a while."

Delilah hummed and pulled the lid off the poundcake. Its glaze glistened underneath the sun. Just like her. Coriolanus chuckled to himself. "Do you like it?" She looked up at him through her eyelids.

She was so beautiful. He'd seen his fair share of pretty women since being placed in a new District. But she, Lord, this Delilah was something different. She was short in stature with strong shoulders and hips that were not well hidden beneath her dress. She had a cute smile that was covered by full, cherry colored lips. And her hair, so coily and full in a bun upon her head.

Coriolanus ran his tongue over his bottom lip and nodded. "I like it a lot."

Delilah detected the tone of his voice and fought the urge to smile. "I'm glad that's the case."

It was difficult for Delilah to keep her eyes off Coriolanus. Where he moved, her eyes followed. When he spoke to another woman and charmed her with his smile and bright eyes, she felt a twing of jealousy hit. Then, she'd call herself foolish for even being the slightest bit possessive over a man she'd only known for five hours.

She did her best to keep herself preoccupied with the poundcake in front of her. It worked for the most part, until the bench wobbled by the weight of another. Delilah turned to her left and found Coriolanus leaned against the side. "Can I join you, pretty?"

Pretty. Delilah's body warmed as she nodded. Coriolanus swung his leg over the side of the bench and took a seat. His clothed thigh brushed against her exposed once, causing her leg to jump slightly. He noticed, but chose not to say anything.

"You enjoying the fair?" Coriolanus asked.

"Yeah. It's always a fun time. Plus the food is great, too." She raised her fork that held a piece of cake on it. "Have you tried the poundcake? My mama makes the best ever."

Coriolanus shook his head. Delilah gathered a piece on the fork and held it out with the intention for him to pluck it off, but she was shocked when his full lips wrapped around the edge of the fork. His eyes were trained on hers. A gasp fell from her lips.

He hummed softly. "Delicious." He prepared to spur her on further, finding amusement in her disheveled state, but was called back by Elijah. "I'm comin'!. Save some for me later, darlin'. I'll see you later, alright?"

Delilah nodded and bit her lip. "Alright."

He threw her a wink and walked away. He was far from done with her.

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 3

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 11.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Disagreeing amongst partners, disappointments, unexpected turns, denial of feelings, unwanted revelations. Summary: It's Valentine's Day and no one's date seems to be going quite the way they expected. Notes: Apologies for the posting delay, my lovelies! Please enjoy 💖

Ch1 ~ Ch 2

When you still haven't heard from Marcus the next day, you're really pretending not to be bothered by it. You go about your work as usual, take care of your guests, manage a few nibbles of lunch, and work through the Valentine's check-ins with Malachi to make sure that everything goes smoothly. The whole day is chaotic and the inn is completely sold out, and yet you can't stop glancing down at your phone to see if you've gotten a text back.

You've just slipped into the kitchen after your shift to see Sydney after her spa-and-afternoon-tea date when the restaurant's hostess on duty comes in with a reservation slip to add to the board. The restaurant is basically fully booked now, with a few last minute cancellations and reservations working themselves out throughout the day, and a part of you wishes you could just stay here tonight and keep working, but you promised Sam. And you promised your mother's office that there would be social media updates tonight. This date might as well be public, so there is no backing out now.

“Hey babe!” Sydney grins as she looks up from the cake she is decorating, the piping bag in her hand full of dark chocolate buttercream. “Checking in before going to get ready?”

“Yup. Just came in to say hi and check the last minute reservations.” You take the slip from Sydney’s hostess with a flourish to tack it up on the board, and immediately make some sort of inhuman squawking noise that has your best friend whirling around in the kitchen.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She demands, rushing over to the board. From the noise you made, it’s either incredibly good or incredibly bad.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Not technically, anyway. But you hand over the slip with obvious discomfort — or maybe a tinge of something else deeper and darker — on your face. “It’s…I guess…Marcus has a date tonight.”

“What? Oh…” she takes the slip and reads it, frowning slightly as she looks up to see you fidgeting and looking away from the paper. “Well, um, I guess that means he will be here and it’s good that you are going out with Sam.”

The frown that has formed on your face cuts deep, and you put down the empty mug you had grabbed to pour yourself a late afternoon cup of coffee with a slam. “Of course it’s a good thing.” You state unequivocally, not wanting to deal with or admit to the burning feeling in your chest. “He’s my boyfriend. It’s a very good thing.”

Sydney doesn’t comment, just pins the reservation to the allotted slot: 7 pm for two. There’s a note on the reservation to have a bottle of champagne brought to the table with dessert, so she’s not sure what to make of that. It seems unlikely that he’s taking his mother or sister out for a romantic meal.

“I have to get changed.” Comes the unnecessary announcement as you pace a little square around the corner of the kitchen only to end up facing Sydney again. “I just wanted to say hi, and I hope you and Juan had a good day.” Before this…intrusion into your thoughts, you had wanted to know everything. Every single thing they ate at tea and did at the spa. Now you feel like throwing up from pure discomfort.

“We did.” It seems wrong to rub it in your face right now, since you seem to be having some sort of reaction to the idea that Marcus would book a date here. She has to wonder if there’s meaning behind it, or if he had just imagined bringing someone here because it was a wonderful little place. The dining room of the restaurant is intimate, perfect for romance, especially tonight with the lights lower and the decor that had been brought out for the holiday.

“Good. I—okay. I’m going to go up, then. Malachi has a full reservation book and there’s an extra bellhop on tonight for the full house.” Sweeping out of the room is probably an overstatement, but you certainly move fast enough that Agent Bailey has to hop to in order to keep up with you as you head for the back stairs. Suddenly you have all the nervous energy in the world to walk all the way up to your apartment instead of taking the elevator.

“Okay…bye.” Sydney calls out, eyes wide at the dramatic exit and she pulls out her phone to send a quick text to her husband.

You might have tried a little harder than was strictly necessary to look good tonight. Not because Marcus might see you — that doesn’t make any sense — but to try to shut up all the whirling thoughts in your head about your loyalties and your attachments. You’ve been with Sam for almost a full year. It’s eleven months next week. And he deserves your complete attention. So if he gets you in your best little black dress and the earrings he gave you for your last birthday? That’s good, too.

Sam is nothing if not punctual, actually showing up fifteen minutes before you needed to leave. One of his office aides had run out to get you some flowers, now in hand, and he smiles widely when he sees you. “Wow.” He hums, whistling appreciatively. “I feel underdressed.” He jokes, wearing a smart suit like he normally does.

“You haven’t been underdressed since the day you were born.” Sam is perpetually put together, so you have definitely stepped up your game from the jeans and cheeky blouses that would normally have been good date clothes in the past. “Hi honey.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers you the flowers with a smile. “You look incredible. These are only half as beautiful as you.”

“Thank you, honey.” The large bouquet is all red and pink buds, clearly done up for the holiday, and you let the day’s earlier tension roll off your shoulders as you inhale the sweet scent. “Let me put these in the vase in my office and we can get going?” Upstairs in your place they’re beautiful, but downstairs means anyone who sticks their head in your office will see them.

“Of course.” He nods and looks towards Agent Bailey. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Agent Bailey.” He tells her politely. “Would you mind following us to the restaurant tonight?”

“No surprise stops, Congressman?” Following behind isn’t unusual, but Bailey still had to do her job. Any unexpected additions to the night just complicate matters.

His smile tightens slightly. “Just the itinerary you have planned out.” He comments, slightly irked that he has to have plans approved through the Secret Service. It’s not exactly his idea of pleasant.

“Ready to go?” It only takes a moment to get your flowers in water, and you reach for Sam’s hand. After spending your time getting ready reminding yourself to focus on your relationship and stop being so wishy-washy, you’re trying to put your best everything forward for tonight.

“Absolutely.” Sam smiles broadly, his shoulders rolling back and he puffs his chest out proudly. “Let’s go get romantic.”

The restaurant that was picked out is small and welcoming, a  homespun but upscale bistro owned by a couple from New Orleans that moved up to Maryland sometime during the raising of their children. You had read the website while you were getting ready for tonight. The place boasts an impressive menu and a fan favorite étouffée, as well as an entire family working every aspect of the restaurant. From what you can tell, it looks like a perfect date spot. When you pull up it’s brimming over with people, too, which makes you even more excited. Busy means tasty, of course.

“Well this looks promising.” Sam comments, looking over at you. “What did you say the menu was?” He hadn’t really paid attention to where it was, just that you had said it was a good choice for a dinner out and photographs. You know how to work PR from your mother’s campaign, something he admires.

“New American through a New Orleans lens.” That’s what the website had said, and you could swear you already hear jazz pouring out the front door.

“Interesting.” He doesn’t particularly care for spicy foods, his stomach never agrees with it, but he trusts your judgement. “It’s perfect for the photographer and I’m assuming there’s some heartwarming backstory to the place?”

“Family owned and family run.” You can practically hear the silent commentary in his head, and you touch his arm as he holds the door for you. “I read the reviews in advance. Not everything is spicy. Don’t worry.”

“You know me too well.” He throws you a grateful look and leans forward to open the door for you to enter the bistro.

“Good evening.” The hostess at the front of the restaurant knows exactly who you are, just like everyone working tonight does. Just like their entire family does. Getting a visit from the Secret Service and having a discreetly placed photographer arrive just a little while ago gives the whole night an extra flare of the unbelievable. With two menus in her hand, she smiles a shaky, bright grin. “Please come right this way.”

Sam’s hand is on your back, knowing that a lot of eyes are turning from the staff to the patrons. It’s expected when your significant other is a recognizable face. He doesn’t miss that they put you and him at a table in the middle of the room.

There are small vases of red carnations on every table, and candles, and neat purple tablecloths that look like they have been given a little extra pressing for the occasion. You thank the girl politely and smile, not thrilled to have all eyes on you but already knowing that there is nothing you can do about it.

Sam is the one to pull out your chair and help you sit down before he pulls his own chair out. “Shall we order a bottle of wine?” He asks. “Or would that not look good?”

“How about a half bottle?” You suggest, showing him the part of drinks menu that lists half bottles. “Celebratory but responsible.”

“Perfect.” Same agrees, knowing. It wouldn’t be a positive image to have drinking and driving be recorded.

“Whatever you want to choose.” He’s pickier than you are in general, and definitely about wine, so it’s up to him.

He smiles at you in gratitude and immediately dives into the wine list to see what they have available.

“Oysters Rockefeller to start?” As a Maryland boy he loves seafood, and there’s some sort of odd determination in your mind to prove to yourself that your focus is entirely on Sam.

“Absolutely.” He agrees while wholeheartedly and when your server approaches, he finds in a polite smile to give them.

He orders the wine and your appetizer, and beams a smile at the flustered waitress before the two of you are left — sort of — alone again. Agent Bailey has gone to sit with the designated White House photographer at a separate, discreet table. It leaves the two of you to pretend that this is just as normal a date night as any other. “So,” you hum, looking over the menu. “How was work?”

“It was good.” He had kept his office hours short today, like most of the House, so he could get out on time. Plenty of other members had plans or just didn’t show up at all today. “Worked on the bill I want to introduce.”

“How close are you to having the draft done?” The House Judiciary Committee has been an important posting for him, and though you can’t claim to understand the nuance of every single detail of the bill he has been working on, you know that it is a big offering to make from such a new member of the committee.

“First draft is almost complete.” He tells you proudly. “Only a few more hours of work to be honest. My team has been working hard on it.”

“The first bill you’re sponsoring yourself is a big deal. I’m glad you’re proud of it.” Given how much of his work is paperwork and legal-ease, it’s good to have something tangible to work on and be proud of. Certainly not everyone who works in the government can say the same.

“Thank you.” He smiles, leaning back as the waiter comes back with the glasses of wine. “Hopefully it’s just the first of many.”

"I hope so, too." He has high hopes for his career, and you know he'll work hard for it. There's just the tiny voice in the back of your head reminding you that he might not value your success as highly that is bothering you. Still, you raise your glass to him and smile. "Happy Valentine's Day."

“Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.” Sam smiles and taps his glass to yours before taking a sip. “Have you given any thought to my proposal?”

“I thought we could talk about it tonight?” The mention of a proposal specifically makes you shiver in a way you didn’t know you could shiver, but here you are. “Starting with…the logistics of it all.”

He admires the practicality of your statement and nods. “What are your concerns?” He can hear that you have them and hopes that the two of you can come to some kind of agreement. He’s negotiated a lot in his position and knows there is always give and take for things to work.

“I…” He’s practical. Pragmatic. And you know that. It’s something that you have always said you liked about him because it balances against your tendency to dream. “I want to move forward. Take another step.” In your impulse, you reach across the table and take his hand. “But I’m not sure I’m ready yet. So I’d like to do it slowly.”

“Maybe a drawer for when you stay over?” He offers, lifting a brow. “Space for a toothbrush?”

“That’s kind of what I was thinking, yeah.” A relieved smile spreads, glad to see that he isn’t upset at your still moving slowly in this relationship. Moving too fast in the past is what you blame some very serious relationship failures on. “Maybe try to see each other more than just once a week? Work permitting, of course. I know we’re both busy.”

“That was kind of the point of moving in together.” Sam reminds you, although he’s not put out by it. “Maybe we can, but you will have to spend less time at the inn.” He hums. “You are always there. You even live there.”

"I know." That's on you, and you know it. But you still shift in your seat like you've been called to the principle's office. "I have to cut back on late nights. Malachi is more than capable of running the place any time of day and the new night manager is doing really well."

Sam nods, it’s a conversation that he’s had with you several times but nothing has changed so far. “I understand being passionate about your work.” He reminds you with a smile, reaching for your hand. “But I also want you to be passionate about other things too.” He squeezes your fingers. “Maybe kids, one day?”

"You know I want kids." That is never something that you have hemmed or hawed about. Wanting a marriage and a family is something you were pretty up front about. "Kids, a dog, the whole white picket fence thing."

“I know.” It’s a good thing too, because he wants the same thing. Although he knows that can’t really happen if you are running yourself ragged at the inn. “Just wanted to make sure that was still the case.” He jokes.

"It is." Your fingers squeeze his gently. "I haven't changed my mind about what I want."

“That’s good.” Sam smiles and feels a little better about the fact you aren’t jumping at the chance to move in with him. He had expected less resistance if he was honest with himself.

"So the next time I come over I'll bring some things to keep at your place?" A little bag of work clothes and duplicate toiletries at his house sounds positively quaint, but very sweet.

“If that’s what you want.” He agrees, leaning back again when the waiter comes with the appetizer. “Are you still planning on staying tonight?”

You pause long enough to thank the waiter and for both of you to order your entrees and have a sip of your wine after the waiter goes again. "Of course I was planning on it. It's what we talked about. But...I felt like packing a bag to bring over tonight felt a little...presumptuous? I didn't want to jinx it."

“Nothing presumptuous about it.” Sam disagrees with a smile, knowing he would have loved if you had started bringing things over. “But we will do things on your schedule, as long as our end goal is the same.”

End goal. That part still bags at you a little and you still aren’t sure if you’re overreacting. Marcus seemed to agree with us, and so did Sydney…and it’s making you wonder. But will it ruin the night to make a fuss over it? There’s really no way to tell. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page about all of it.” You decide, making sure there is no worry or waver in your voice as you reach for an oyster. It’s just a conversation. Just a conversation with your boyfriend. No big deal. Just clearing the air.

“Good.” There’s a moment’s pause where the two of you start to split the appetizer, each of you tasting it and Sam hums in approval. “I say we live together for at least a year.” He looks up at you. “What do you think?”

“At least a year before what?” The clarification seems important, since the two of you seem to have slightly different expectations. It’s slight, but it’s there.

Sam chuckles slightly. “Before the next step?” He asks playfully, shrugging slightly.

“That makes sense.” But not knowing exactly what he meant makes you feel a little foolish, so you huff a laugh and have another sip of wine. “Of course. That makes perfect sense.”

“You seem off tonight.” Sam tilts his head curiously. “Fight with Sydney? Never thought I would see that.”

“No, god no, nothing like that.” A fight with Sydney is about the farthest thing from the truth. The trouble is…you can’t really tell Sam the truth. It would be a ticking time bomb in the middle of your relationship. To not only think that you might have met your soulmate but to suddenly find yourself caring immensely about what that could mean? Hell, even being attracted to him? It would be a disaster. And you can’t blame him because you would feel exactly the same way if Sam came to you after meeting the girl that the universe says is his perfect match. Instead? All you can really do is make an excuse. “I haven’t really been feeling myself for the past few days.” That is very much true. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let it affect tonight.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Sam’s brows pull down. “Do we need to ask them to box up our meals? The photographer can take their photos now and we can go home if you aren’t up for a night out.” Despite his own views of how the night would go, he would never drag you around if you’d rather be in bed sleeping.

It’s sweet of him to offer, but you know he would be disappointed. And, unfortunately, no amount of sleep is going to pull you out of the Marcus-shaped funk you have found yourself in. No, sleep won’t help. And tonight is supposed to be about you and Sam, so it’s going to be. “That’s okay,” you assure him, shaking your head and promising yourself that the smile on your face won’t falter again tonight. “I’d rather spend tonight celebrating with you.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” He’s giving you a doubtful look, but he doesn’t call the waiter over. “Maybe it’s just that you need a night away.” He suggests. “I have a late morning scheduled so we can sleep in.”

“Unfortunately, I have an early morning.” You bite your lip, knowing he’ll hate that. “We have a big event tomorrow night and they’re showing up early in the day. Early bird check in, venue set up, all of it.”

Sam is quiet for a minute and then looks down at his plate again. “Well, I guess that can’t be helped.”

"It's all hands on deck right away." And suddenly you feel horribly guilty about it, even though it's your job. It's something you do out of love and a deep passion for the industry that you've chosen to work in. But a morning of just sleeping in sounds so nice.

“You don’t need to explain.” It’s not like you would change your plans anyway, but it definitely sours the idea he had for the next morning. “You have priorities.”

“Yes, I do. Just like you would if you had a day full of meetings to handle.” He sounds cold, and it bothers you so much more than you would have thought. Like you’d had disappointed your parents with a bad grade on your report card instead of telling your partner than you’re anticipating a demanding work day. “I would support you if that was the case, so I don’t understand why you seem so upset with me.”

“Because we had talked about it.” Sam reminds you. “Two days ago.” He clenches his jaw and takes a breath before releasing it. “You’re right, you have work and it’s important.” He agrees. “Forget I said anything.”

“We did talk about it two days ago. And we talked about me staying over, but not about doing anything the next day. Because I told you weeks ago when this group booked their party that it was going to be a big deal.” Barely managing not to drop your fork in the table, your eyes drop to your lap and you can feel the pressure of disappointment driving at the backs of your eyes like fire and you have to take a deep breath to steady yourself. “I feel like we haven’t been communicating as well as we used to.”

“After we talked about you staying over, I asked if you wanted to have a lazy morning and you said ‘sounds good’.” Sam realizes you had told him about the booking. “We got our signals crossed. It happens. We will need to work on it.”

“Yeah.” You nod, quietly sitting back in your chair again while being very aware of the pairs of eyes that have all turned to witness the First Daughter argue with her boyfriend over their romantic Valentine’s dinner. Fuck. Mom’s going to kill me. “Yeah,” you agree with a vague nod of your head. “We’re just a little off. We’ll work on it.”

“It’s okay.” Sam promises with a smile, reaching out and taking your hand again. He doesn’t want you to be photographed looking unhappy, because then rumors would fly. Public figures aren’t allowed to have bad moments. “We will make the best of tonight.” He tells you. “Or…we can go back to your apartment if you’d prefer?” He offers. “That way you can sleep a little longer?”

"You normally hate staying at my apartment." The water pressure is better at his house, you'll give him that. And the bed is bigger. But the breakfast at your place is far superior every single time.

“I know, but I also know that you have an early morning and I would like to compromise.” He offers.

His hand fits around yours, anchoring you to the table and to him, and you remind yourself to breath. A miscommunication isn't an argument. And even if it is, an argument isn't the end of the world. "I would really like that," you agree, squeezing his hand just a touch. Trying to show him silently how much you appreciate that he's willing to bend a little for you. It has never bothered you that you go to him — stay at his place, attend his work and social events, usually let him pick restaurants for dates as well. But it's nice to feel a little give in your direction as well.

“Alright, then it’s settled.” He nods quickly and smiles at you. “We will have to swing by my house to pick up a change of clothes though.”

"We can do that." You'll tell Agent Bailey after dinner, and the message will get relayed. It will all be fine. Whatever is causing this gap between you and Sam, you'll figure it out. Starting with a little bit of compromise. "And tonight we'll clean out a drawer for you at my place. We'll each have a drawer."

It’s on the tip if his tongue to refuse, to remind you he doesn’t like staying at your place. It’s too busy and he likes privacy in his home, not people coming and going at all times. “It’s a plan.” He decides to say instead, happy that the meal is coming out.

The restaurant is busy tonight, full up with reservations for dates and girls’ nights out. Tables are packed full and the kitchen is bustling, but Malachi sits calmly at the reception desk making sure that all of the inn’s reservations for the night are being taken care of to the best of his ability. The less you have to worry about tomorrow with that incoming party, the better.

Marcus smiles as he walks up to the desk, guiding Vanessa up with a warm hand on her lower back. He hadn’t wanted to be alone, especially on Valentine’s Day, so he had once again tried one of the dating apps. Tinder Without Marks was kind of the opposite of Mate Marks and he appreciated that. There wasn’t any emphasis on tattoos or scars, just on personalities. He had been talking to Vanessa since you had bailed on his offer of dinner and tonight was the first date. “Reservation for Pike.” He greets Malachi warmly.

"Special Agent Pike!" Malachi was not going to forget that face or those shoulders anytime soon, and he smiles genuinely for what seems like the first time all night. Holidays are always a lot of extra running around. "Reservation for the restaurant tonight?" He would have noticed the name if the FBI agent had reserved a room at the inn. He definitely would have noticed that.

“Yes.” Marcus nods and smiles. “How are you Malachi?” He remembers the concierge’s name and greets him like a friend. “I knew that coming here would be a fantastic treat.”

“And…Miss D’Amario.” When the concierge’s eyes light on the woman beside Special Agent Pike, he nearly bursts out laughing. This is going to be the biggest gossip amongst the staff. Multiple staffs. “Does chef know to expect you? Or should I let her know?”

Marcus tilts his head and looks at Vanessa. “I didn’t realize you’ve been here before.” He had told her where he had made reservations, but she hadn’t said. “Do you come often?”

“Once or twice.” She admits with a sheepish smile as Malachi comes out from behind the desk to escort them into the restaurant. “Usually just to run errands. My boss…he comes here a lot.”

“Interesting coincidence.” Marcus muses as the two of them follow Malachi. “You never actually said who you worked for.” He reminds her.

She hadn’t. That’s true. Because on a dating website all kinds of information can get taken out of context or photoshopped into other things. All she had said before now is that she works on Capitol Hill. “Congressman Chase.” She tells her date, a little more secure in handing this information over after having looked into him and agreeing to this dinner. A girl can never be too careful, after all. “I’m the senior aide in his office.”

To his credit, Marcus doesn’t freeze, although his eyes blow wide. He can hear Malachi snicker quietly, although the agent isn’t sure why. Even though he doesn’t have anything against the congressman, the knowledge that she is his senior aide dulls the excitement of the date almost immediately. “I met him just the other day.” Marcus admits. “My friend and former colleague is the event planner here.”

“You know Juan?” Vanessa seems to ease immediately, the tension of meeting a stranger off the Internet soothing with the knowledge that Juan Badillo is an excellent judge of character. “Okay. So you know who owns the inn, then. And why I’m running errands here fairly often.” She smiles when Marcus pulls out her chair for her and thanks him before sitting. “I’ve always wanted to try the restaurant but never have a chance.”

Marcus smiles and nods, even though he’s not exactly sure how this dynamic would work. “Then it’s a good thing I got reservations here.” He tells her and picks up the menu. “Do you want some wine? I think I would like some.”

“That sounds great.” She nods happily, not catching the change in his demeanor even in the last few seconds.

He’s still not going to be rude. Vanessa is a lovely woman, and he shouldn’t feel guilty for being here on a date with her. Not even if you know her and she works for your boyfriend. “Are you a red, white or rosé kind of woman?” He asks, scanning the selections and looking back up at her.

“Usually white. But if you like red I’m happy to try something new.” Vanessa is happy to let Marcus take the lead, not feeling strong enough one way or the other to have a preference.

“There’s a wonderful Prosecco on the menu.” Marcus offers, lifting his brows. “It’s Valentine’s Day after all, and we aren’t alone. We should celebrate.”

"Perfect." Her smile spreads again and she sits back, looking over the menu and regarding the man across from her. "So what department of the FBI are you in? We haven't really talked about work yet."

“Art Crimes.” He supplies wondering where you and Sam are. A discreet glance around the restaurant was a relief and a disappointment not to come up with you. “I’m actually the head of the department.”

"So...is that forgeries and thieves? Like in caper movies?" Vanessa sounds suitably impressed even though it isn't the part of FBI work that gets glorified on tv or in movies. "I didn't know that was a whole department on its own. You must have a lot of responsibility."

“It’s a lot of paperwork.” Marcus admits. “Although I’m sure you have plenty yourself.” He chuckles. “I wish that it was like the movies, or that show White Collar that was on a few years ago. I could use a Neal Caffery sometimes.”

"Oh, I don't think I've ever seen it. I guess I have a little homework to do." On whatever the show is, plus on art as a whole. Art class or art history...museums in general aren't really Vanessa's thing. It just never seemed very practical. "Paperwork is okay when there's a rhythm to it. Sometimes I even turn on music quietly in the office while I'm copying and filing. It's really helpful even though it's kind of a no-no."

“Why would that be a no-no?” He wonders if Sam is a stick in the mud. “Most of the time, I encourage my team to listen to music, it helps engage your mind.”

"We try not to have anything on in the office that could interfere with being understood on the phone," she explains, like it's some kind of party line or sage advice that has been handed down to her. "Staying on message is important. And it's hard to stay on message if you can't be heard."

“And what’s your message?” He asks, finding it slightly intense, but he’s not the politician.

"Right now, our message is about serving our community. Working to bring business into our district without threatening existing small businesses, and making sure that we take safety standards into account." Obviously very proud of her work, Vanessa sits up straight in her chair and folds her hands in her lap with the air of someone being interviewed. "The Congressman is paving his own path and we're all on board for the ride."

“I see.” He can approve of such a message, admire it even. The congressman is obviously working for the best of his district and there is something noble about that. “That’s a good message to have.”

“It really is.” When Vanessa nods, it’s eager. “He’s on the fast track to the White House. It’s a privilege to get to work for him now.”

“A fast track, you say?” Marcus works so hard to keep from frowning, not liking the way that it makes it seem as if you are a steppingstone for Sam. Even though that shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.

“Absolutely.” She pauses long enough for the waiter to return for their drink order and explain the beautiful Valentine’s prix fixe menu before leaving them be again for a few minutes. “Congressman Chase has seven more years to be the youngest president ever elected, and he can do it.”

“That’s a lofty ambition.” Marcus agrees, wondering how much of dating the current president’s daughter is included in those plans for the White House.

“It’s going to be great.” She laughs, not the least self-conscious, but shrugs her shoulders. “I like my job a lot. Sorry if I get carried away a little.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Marcus waves that away, although he’s sure he sees hero worship in Vanessa’s eyes, and perhaps a crush on her boss. Nothing wrong with that unless they are being inappropriate and he can’t see the congressman doing that with his ambitions. Some congressmen, sure, but not Sam. “I wish a lot more people enjoyed their jobs like that.”

“It makes hard work worth it,” she agrees, though she does demure and tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “You…must love art? To be so involved with those crimes specifically?”

“I have come to really appreciate it.” Marcus tells her. “I never really stopped to look and think about much art before, but some weekends, I enjoy going through the museums for pleasure and not trying to research a piece.”

"DC is a very good place if you like museums." Even if she's not very big on them herself, she knows that to be absolutely true. It's where she ends up bringing family whenever they visit, so she has seen quite a few of the Smithsonian museums by now. She'd just rather be at a game.

“They are nice. Especially if a game gets rained out.” Marcus agrees, leaning back when the waiter comes back with the first course. “Thank you.” He hums and looks up at Vanessa. “This looks amazing.”

“It really does.” Vanessa looks as delighted as Marcus does and she offers him a sincere smile. “I’m very glad you decided to ask me out tonight.”

“I am too.” He smiles at her even if he feels guilty that he’s not as glad has he had been before he realized the connection to Sam Chase and therefore….you. He picks up his Prosecco and holds it up. “To positive first dates.”

“Absolutely.” Their glasses make lovely clink as they tap together and Vanessa smiles again, very glad that she decided to take this step to try to get over the crush she has on her boss.

“Looks like the inn is fairly packed tonight.” Sam hums as he pulls into the employee only portion of the oyster shell parking lot. He’s not upset for you business-wise, but he wished there weren’t so many people there.

“The night manager had the idea to keep our sitting room open for some live music, and it seems like people have stayed. It must have been a success.” The rooms aren’t sold out tonight because there are early check-ins for that party in the morning, but managing to keep people in house and engaged is a huge deal.

“Interesting concept.” Sam’s not really sure if that would attract the kind of clientele that you want here, but he’s a politician, not an inn owner. “Hopefully not too late?” He asks, wondering if it will be noisy into the late night. That’s not romantic.

“It should be over soon,” you promise him, seeing that your watch reads almost eleven o’clock.

“Good.” Once out of the car, he rushes around the hood and wraps his arm around your waist. “I don’t want them to interrupt our plans for tonight.”

“Nothing’s going to interrupt us.” Heading for the back door, you can pop right into the elevator to head upstairs without having to interrupt anything that’s going on or get sidetracked by Malachi. You just want to take a peak into the sitting room but that’s all. “And you can sleep in, in the morning after I’ve tired you out.”

"Is that a promise?" Sam asks playfully, allowing you to lead him away from the elevator and down the hall.

"Absolutely." The rest of the date had smoothed out, being a relatively quiet and pleasant night Now that you're back at the inn with a bag of Sam's things to stash away in your bureau, you're feeling a little bit flirtier and more upbeat. "And when you come downstairs after you finally drag that excellent butt out of bed, I'll have Syd make you some breakfast."

“I do love her breakfasts.” Sam groans, smirking at you playfully. “So you are planning on wearing me out completely?” He squeezes your waist and looks ahead towards the music.

"I'd say you deserve a night of intensely deep sleep, and I intend to make sure you get it." There is a little line waiting for the elevator as guests start to go up to their rooms for the night, so you hang back with Sam and look toward the sitting room instead. The music coming through is atmospheric and sweet and you are right about to lean your head on Sam's chest while you wait — when you spot someone unexpected in the sitting room.

Marcus had decided that just because Vanessa works for Sam doesn’t mean that he can’t have a nice night with her. The music had sounded lovely floating from the sitting room and he had asked if she wanted to stay. Now, they are dancing and he hasn’t thought about you in at least five minutes.

It's not exactly a gasp, but you end up trying to swallow whatever noise of surprise you were going to make when you spotted Marcus with his date in the the other room — and instead of keeping your reaction to yourself you end up choking on your own damn spit and coughing hard enough to worry Sam.

“Are you alright?” Sam pats your back and leans in with a worried look on his face while you wave him away. “What’s—” he glances around the room and immediately stiffens. “What is he doing with Vanessa?” He asks, his voice bristled with a slight anger he can’t shake.

"Vanessa?" You hadn't even seen who he was with, just choked at the sight of Marcus enjoying a quiet, romantic moment with another woman — something which you know shouldn't bother you but it had been a whole five minutes since the last time you thought about him so apparently that is your maximum. "Like your aide Vanessa?"

“How does he know her?” Sam ignores the question, staring holes into the FBI agent that is currently slow dancing with said aide and making her beam up at him in a way that has Sam wanting to drag her away from him.

"I don't know." He's practically fuming, and your forehead furrows as you turn your eyes back from the couple in the other room to Sam beside you. "Why does it matter?"

“I find it funny—” his tone definitely says otherwise, “that this man just magically shows up, gets invited to a game night and is now cozying up to my top aide.” Sam knows that he’s already been tagged by the DNC as a rising star, his own seat on the council is indicative of that, and now there’s this FBI that is showing up everywhere.

"He's friends with Juan." The defense in your voice is impossible to miss, and you cross your arms defiantly over your chest like you're waiting for him to pick a fight. "Maybe they were introduced by a mutual friend? Met in a coffee shop? Found each other on a dating app? Who knows?"

“And they just happened to book your inn as a date?” He scoffs slightly, unable to believe that fanciful tale and narrows his eyes as Marcus twirls Vanessa around and pulls her back against him.

"Why don't you go interrupt them and find out if you're so curious?" This has taken a very deep turn for the worse, and you can only be glad that the last guests waiting for the elevator near you have gone up so you're more or less alone now. Of course Agent Bailey is nearby, but she never comments.

“No.” He wants to. That’s the problem, and he knows it’s not a good move. Frowning, he turns away from the dancing couple. “Let’s go upstairs. The music is horrible.”

It's not. At all. But this isn't about the music and both of you know that silently even if it isn't said out loud. Sam jams his thumb in the 'Up' button for the elevator again but you say nothing, glancing back at the sitting room one more time to wonder if Sam is upset about the date that is happening for the same reason you are. And if he is...what does that mean for the two of you?

Once upstairs, Sam steps out of the elevator and sighs. “Can we just have the apartment to ourselves?” He directs his question to Agent Bailey, not looking at you.

There are certain protocols that have to be upheld, and Agent Bailey looks to you before starting them. “Ma’am?”

In your mind it’s awfully rude, knowing that asking her to sit in the hallway means hours and hours of uncomfortable sitting, but you also know that Sam is…in less than a good mood right now. And while you’re cranky too, you would rather try to smooth things over if you can. “If…you wouldn’t mind?”

“Please stay here.” Bailey directs you both. She’ll do a sweep of the apartment to make sure no one is waiting for you, and then she’ll take a chair into the hallway. She won’t say so, but she doesn’t mind not hearing a fight if it happens. Or the makeup sex. Neither one is her favorite.

Once you two are alone, Sam sets his bag down, aware that the mood of the evening is ruined and it’s his fault. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks, not even sure if he wants to stay at this point. Especially if Vanessa and that agent will also be spending the night under this roof. He’s not happy to see his best aide here, and usually he’s always happy to see her.

“Can you explain to me why you’re so upset?” It’s definitely uncomfortable, this tension that hangs in the air now, and you try not to let your eyes drop to the right before going back to him. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just surprised. He’s the one who got mad.

“It’s— I’m not—” There’s not a rational reason why he’s upset, and logically he knows this. “I don’t like the fact this man seems to be everywhere.” You had told him about meeting Marcus at the market and it seems as if he’s suddenly everywhere when a few weeks ago, no one knew this man was even in the area. “Strange in my eyes.”

“It’s just a coincidence.” That’s what you’ve told yourself, anyway. It has nothing at all — nothing whatsoever — to do with the universe putting you into situations where you’ll bump into each other. Not at all. “The Secret Service did a background check on him. He’s totally clear.”

“Then I guess I’m just overreacting.” Sam sighs and wipes a hand down his face. “I should go.” He knows that if he stays, the night won’t proceed like it was planned and he’s better off going home. You don’t seem too happy with him. “Unless you want me to stay?”

What you want, and what you should do, and what seems like the healthiest decision for your mental health all are different things. You should tell him to stay, brush it off, and try to salvage the evening. You want to go downstairs and interrupt that damn date to find out if Marcus Pike is as good a dancer as he seemed to be in the small space of the sitting room. But what’s best for your mental health? Is probably neither of those things. “Maybe I can come over this weekend and we can try to have a less stressful night at your place instead?”

Sam is silent for a moment and then nods. Understanding that something has fundamentally shifted in your relationship and trying to figure out what that might mean for the future. “Sounds good.” He agrees and looks at his bag before picking it up. “I’m sorry about how the night ended.”

“So am I.” The air between you feels different. Colder or heavier or just more tense, but you won’t back down just for the comfort of having him next to you in bed tonight. That isn’t fair to either of you.

Instead of a romantic kiss, Sam leans in and presses his lips to your cheek. ���I’ll text you when I get home.” He promises, stepping back and frowning slightly before nodding. He had honestly expected you to change your mind, but he won’t beg to stay, knowing it’s not the best idea.

“Get home safe.” A long moment passes with thick air hanging between you before Sam nods again and opens the door, stepping out of your apartment and back in to the elevator. “It’s just us tonight,” you tell Agent Bailey, who comes back into the room the moment she hears the door. “The Congressman has gone home for the night.” And of referring to him by his title instead of his name isn’t a big fucking clue to you right then and there, it should be.

It’s not surprising, given the way the evening has turned sour, but it’s not her place to say anything. “Very well.” She nods. “If you need anything, let me know.” She intends to stay outside and let you sulk if you need to. She hadn’t missed ’the Congressman’ title instead of Sam.

“You can stay inside.” Banishing your Secret Service detail to the hallway is one more thing that rubbed you the wrong way. “I’m just going to go to bed. But the coffee you like…the vanilla caramel one? It in the cupboard above the coffee maker. Any time you want to make some.”

“Thank you.” The couch you don’t mind her sitting on is a lot more comfortable than the chair in hallway and she appreciates that you don’t mind her using the bathroom either. “Is there anything you need before you go to bed?”

“No.” You’re too afraid to ask if you did wrong by letting Sam go home, so you don’t even consider it. “Tomorrow’s an early morning. Agent Sisson coming to relieve you early?”

“Five.” She nods. “If you need to be up earlier, I will be here.”

"I won't be up until after that." Unless you can't sleep, which is a serious possibility considering how poorly the night went and how half of your thoughts are currently downstairs in the sitting room. "So I'll see you tomorrow, Agent Bailey."

“Goodnight, ma’am.” It’s best to keep things formal, although she feels bad that your evening did not end up like it was supposed to. And incredibly interested in the reaction of the congressman to Marcus Pike’s presence.

"Good night." Going to your room alone isn't what you wanted for tonight, but it feels like it's for the best. All you can do now is hope that you sleep.

The next morning is a flurry of activity, but Sydney notices that you aren’t rushing in from the parking lot when you come into the kitchen, looking like you didn’t get much sleep last night. “Good morning sunshine.” She teases, reaching for the coffee pot to pour you a cup.

Teasing barely earns her a grumble in return, but you gratefully accept the cup of coffee she pours you and turn to doctor it immediately. “That early check-in group should be here in a half hour.”

“I already have a breakfast spread ready for them.” She motions to the counter and the baskets she has already started filling with baked goods. The bowl of fresh fruit is inside a hollowed-out watermelon. “I couldn’t sleep.” She explains. “Indigestion.”

“There’s a joke in there about swallowing too much cum, but I’m too tired to make it.” You huff though, trying for a smile for your best friend. “It looks great, Syd. Thank you for working so hard.”

She sees through you instantly and frowns, moving around the counter and wiping her hands on the ever present rag tucked into the pocket of her chef’s jacket. “What’s wrong?” She asks, feeling your forehead and looking like an over anxious mother hen worrying over her baby. “Are you not feeling good? Juan, Malachi and I can handle this if you need us to.”

“Not a chance.” Considering you never take sick days even when you’re actually sick, there is no way you would make your team handle a big event without you. “It’s nothing. I just…had a bad night. That’s all.”

“Everything alright?” She frowns, tutting at your stubbornness and moving over to the espresso machine to give you a shot to help boost you up.

“Sam and I had a little…series of tiffs,” you admit with a sigh. There is a pan of her fresh baked broscia nearby and the Sicilian brioche-style bread is calming to you to be crammed full with jam and butter so you grab one still warm. “We got into it at the restaurant over me having to be at work early today and then again later when he flipped out about Marcus being here on his date.”

“Marcus?” Her head whips around and she gives you an utterly confused look. “One, why was he here? Two, why was Sam upset about that?”

“He must have stayed after dinner. For the musician that Malachi brought in.” Sam had been cranky about it, but you thought the singer at the piano had been lovely. “He…uh…Marcus, that is…did you see who his date was? When they came in for dinner last night?”

“I didn’t see, it was crazy in the kitchen, but Malachi told me that it was Vanessa.” She huffs. “How the hell do they know each other?”

“I don’t know. But the same question made Sam so upset that he ended up leaving my apartment last night instead of staying over.” The best you can do is shrug your shoulders. Because as much as it bothers you? You know why it does. There’s no mystery there, only guilt. “He thinks there’s something suspicious about Marcus, apparently.”

“Something suspicious about Marcus Pike?” She chokes out, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it. “The FBI agent? The man who was an Eagle Scout?” She and Juan had pulled that nugget of information out of him at game night.

“Because apparently, he’s ‘suddenly everywhere’ when none of us had seen him before.” Jam and butter join your bread roll and you sigh a little at the comfort of it. “I think it’s just confirmation bias. Like we probably were in the same places as him before, we just didn’t know to look for him.”

“Well…Juan would have recognized him.” Syd reminds you. “So that’s not exactly true, but I understand what you mean.” She sighs and hesitates for a moment. “Do you think it’s him or because he was with Vanessa?” She knows the other woman has a crush on Sam, it’s obvious from the hero worship stars in her eyes when she’s around. She knows Sam isn’t the type to cheat, but maybe there’s some feelings there that are repressed.

“I feel like that didn’t help.” Coffee and a little breakfast is helping. You can think a little straighter even if you don’t like the thoughts. “I know Vanessa has a thing for him. It’s not subtle. But before now I didn’t think there was cause for concern the other way.”

“It could be that Sam thinks that Vanessa could give away information that he could use if Marcus wanted to cause problems between you and Sam.” She rationalizes. “Slightly conspiracy theorist in my mind, but I could see how it could be construed.” Sydney enjoys playing Devil’s advocate, even if she likes Marcus and doesn’t think he is angling for anything.

“Before last week, I didn’t think there were problems between me and Sam.” It’s disconcerting to realize, as you stand here and talk through it with your best friend, that your relationship has not been as steady as you once thought. “Now? I don’t know.”

“Other than his overreaction, what makes you think that?” She asks, aware that you’ve been a little edgy lately but every relationship has ups and downs at times.

“He seems…really agitated lately. Much more upset than usual about having an agent around. Last night he wanted Agent Bailey to sit out in the hall while we slept, how does that make sense? And making comments about the future of our relationship to other people?” To Vanessa’s parents, now that you think about it. It sometimes slips your mind that his most trustworthy aide is also the only daughter of one of his largest donors. “Everything just feels on edge.”

“Have you talked about all this? Like really sat down and talked?” She frowns, not liking what she is hearing, although it could just be a case of miscommunication.

“Before now there hasn’t really been a reason.” Or at least, there hasn’t been such an obvious compilation of reasons. “And considering he never texted me back when he got home last night, now I’m wondering if he’ll be willing to sit down and hash things out.”

“I’m sorry.” She slides the shot of espresso over and reaches for your hand. “I like Sam, but if it doesn’t work out, it’s better to find out now, than down the road.”

“With the whole soulmate thing and now this kind of…weird accumulation of things?” You shake your head and just sort of shrug awkwardly. “I feel discouraged in a way that I really wasn’t expecting.”

“I’m sorry.” Immediately feeling guilty, Sydney’s shoulders drop and she bites her lip. “I shouldn’t have teased you about finding out what kind of hummingbird tattoo he has.” She hadn’t expected it to cause so many problems, or for you to be so resistant to it. Before Sam, you would have demanded to see the tattoo right away just to disprove the soulmate theory. “What can I do to help you?”

“Honey, you’re growing a literal human. You have enough to deal with.” It’s disheartening, and confusing, and frankly you’re shocked that you’re so willing to throw up your hands. That’s not like you at all.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t and won’t be there for my best friend.” She argues, frowning at you. “Your shit is my shit, remember? I’ll be expecting you to do a rotation getting up with the baby.” She jokes, wanting you to laugh a little.

"If we still lived together, I absolutely would." Being in this apartment upstairs is actually the first time you've ever lived alone — taking over the role of caretaker for the inn when Sydney moved out of the apartment you had been renting in Old Town to buy a house with her soulmate. "At this point I feel like I'm between a rock and a hard place...and one of those blockages is purely made up of how confused I am over...just feeling like I want to throw in the towel instead of working things out. That's not who I am. Or not who I have been."

“Honey, sometimes you just…don’t want to work things out. That doesn’t make you a failure.” She hums. “You might just realize that you have different goals.”

"But why do I feel that way?" There's only a few bites of your bun left and you know that today is going to be a peckish day. You tend to nibble when you're worried. "Is it just because I'm having doubts? And why am I even having doubts? It's...soulmates never mattered to me before this."

“Maybe it’s because of the man and not the soulmate aspect?” She probes gently. “Let me ask you this….if you weren’t in a relationship with Sam, would you be interested in Marcus. Even without the soulmate possibility?”

"I—" It feels dirty. A kind of guilt you really don't like and makes your skin crawl. But this isn't a situation you're going to lie about. Not when you're literally asking your best friend for help. "I mean...probably. Yeah."

“Then you should step back. From Marcus or Sam, that decision is yours. But some space might be needed to figure out what you are feeling.” Syd suggests.

"All the social media shit from our date last night is going to go viral really fast if anyone gets a whiff that we've broken up." Just as astonishing as the idea that you would even consider ending things, it's alarming how fast your heart knows the right decision to make. Or at least what you perceive as right in this moment. "It's going to be a shitshow..."

Sydney doesn���t comment on the fact that it seems like you’ve made up your mind, just humming. “Take it slow. It doesn’t have to be some kind of announcement.”

"The last thing I want is to have to make an announcement." The end of your coffee cup comes all too soon, and you fill it up again with a sigh. This morning is going to be a lot for many different reasons. "Syd...you would stop me if you thought I was making the wrong choice, right?"

“I would definitely try to talk to you.” She promises. “I like Sam, I really do, but if you don’t see yourself marrying him, well—” she shrugs. “Just give yourself a week, how about that?”

"Have I really reached the point in my life where it's not worth staying with someone that I don't see myself marrying?" That is a fairly rude awakening because of how honest it is, and you stifle a groan in one hand. "You're right, and I know you're right. But the State Dinner for the Spanish royal visit is in just over a week. The last thing I want is to have to go to that alone."

“To make it fair, give yourself that time.” She tells you. “Give him an honest try and if you still can’t see it, then you have your answer because Sam is the type to want marriage.”

"I want to get married, too." You always have. Ever since you were little. You reveled in family weddings and dreaming in your own big day. You had even talked to Marcus about it at the market. But whenever the future comes up with Sam, it ends up feeling tense now. "I just...it's a lot to even think about, Syd. You and Juan just...you're so good together. I don't think I'll ever get that lucky."

“I think you will.” She encourages. “My relationship with Juan isn’t without work.” She reminds you. “We still have to communicate and work through issues.”

"But it's worth it because you love each other so much." The sentence is out of your mouth before you have a chance to really sit on what you're saying, and just seconds after you hear yourself say it, your shoulders fall in defeat. "Oh...fuck..."

“What is it?” She asks, frowning at the way you just seemed to deflate.

"It's worth it for you and Juan to work through your issues because you love each other so much." Repeating the phrase makes it hurt all the more, because you didn't realize until this exact moment that it doesn't apply to you. At least, not anymore. "I...don't think I feel the same way..."

“Oh honey.” Her expression softens and she is immediately around the counter again, this time pulling you in for a big hug.

"I'm okay," you insist, through very obvious tears that announce the contrary. "I'm okay." You have to be. You have work to do, and you can't greet a large family party here to announce and celebrate an engagement with runny mascara. "I...have to be okay."

“Listen.” She lets you go and takes your shoulder to look you in the eyes. “You are going upstairs. Ahhh.” She stops you when you start to protest. “Take ten minutes, take an hour, take all day, but take some time to yourself before you start running around dealing with the very obvious results of love.” She tells you. “I can get them started with food and then Juan can take over to take them to the venue.” She shakes her head, huffing when you open your mouth again. “No, I’m not listening. Now go.”

"I'll be back in ten minutes." The best thing you can do for yourself today is keep busy, but she's right that you need to have a clear head for things to go well. "I just...I didn't know this was going to happen today. Or ever."

“I know, babe.” She squeezes you again and sighs. “But I’m here for you. Completely.”

"Thank you, love." Squeezing her tight against you as much as you can, you steal your second coffee away with you from the kitchen and head back upstairs with Agent Sisson following behind.

Sydney sighs as she looks at the door you disappear through for a moment before turning back to her work. The best way she can help you right now, is to make sure the incoming clients are happy.

Walking out through the back hall, you clutch your mug of coffee and try to hang onto a thread of dignity until you get back upstairs. There are more tears pressing at the back of your eyes and you absolutely do not want them shed in public. The elevator is in use, apparently, and you jam your finger in the button a second time for good measure before blowing out a sigh. What a great fucking Valentine’s last night turned out to be, and what a terrible fucking day this is looking like…

The little toiletry kits provided in the rooms are a godsend and both Marcus and Vanessa quickly clean up after the alarm had woken them. “Can’t believe we drank so much and we don’t have hangovers.” Marcus hums, riding the elevator down to get a quick breakfast with his Valentine’s date. They had ended up finishing a bottle and then having another few glasses while dancing. Feeling too drunk to safely get home, the night manager had agreed to let them take one of the rooms on the promise they would check out early. He has been grateful and eagerly agreed. “How about you?”

“Normally I would say I’m still drunk,” Vanessa admits with a sheepish laugh. “But I’m okay. I think it’s just a miracle and I’m not in the habit of questioning those. Though I could use some breakfast.”

“I’ll get you fed and then get you home so you won’t be late to work.” Marcus promises. He will be late, but he had already told his team to come in late, so it’s just paperwork that he’s missing.

“In case no one has ever told you before, you are a consummate caretaker.” It makes a girl like Vanessa feel very special, who spend her working hours caring for someone else and her downtime making sure to live up to her parents’ expectations, and while Marcus Pike isn’t quite her dream man — he’s handsome and sweet and she would be stupid to ignore that.

"I like to make sure people are happy and safe around me." Marcus shrugs off the praise with a small grin. "I took you from your house, it's only right I deliver you back to it." He hums as the elevator stops and dings before the doors open. "Now to get you fed."

When the elevator doors slide open in front of you, the most unwelcome sight in the world is waiting. The vision of Marcus Pike and Vanessa D’Amario in the same clothing you saw them wearing last night, looking refreshed and giddy huddled together in one corner of the elevator car makes you want to turn on your heel and flee back into the kitchen. And you probably would, if you weren’t rooted to the spot in shock and trying to remember how to breathe.

Vanessa murmurs your name in surprise. "I—I didn't expect to see you here this morning!" Her eyes dart around, almost nervously as she expects Sam to pop up. "I—uh, is Congressman Chase here?" She asks, "I thought— he said that you had a date." Normally dates between you and Sam included sleepovers.

“He’s not here.” You won’t invite questions by giving extra information, but when your feet remember how to work, you step out of the way to let them off the elevator. “I—um—I was just headed upstairs.” Sam is going to be in a very foul mood if he’s coming off a bad night and Vanessa walks in looking freshly fucked, and that almost makes you sob all over again. “N—nice to see you, Vanessa. Marcus.”

Marcus can't even do more than just nod and lift his hand and wave slightly, feeling foolish as he watches the doors slide closed and your eyes meet his in a kind of silent agony. "Well," Vanessa giggles and Marcus can't help the way that he swallows guiltily, like he's done something wrong. "I guess that's one way for my boss to learn I had a date."

______

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