@marksmanmoran // semi-accepting. // valentine’s day.
[ box of chocolates ] to give my muse a box of chocolates.
Mycroft didn’t expect much from Bastian on Valentine’s Day, arguably the most romantic holiday there is. But yet, here he was... giving him chocolates. He stared, almost dumbfounded at the box, holding it awkwardly. “Um, thank you,” he muttered, placing it on a table. They weren’t... dating. They were just fucking. The expectation was more that he’d get... nothing from the other man, let alone... chocolates. (His favorite thing, no less.)
It was strange, honestly. He wasn’t supposed to like Bastian let alone... the other thing. He should hate him and maybe a part of him does. Hates the way he makes him feels. Hates that he can’t simply stop seeing him. That he keeps going back to him no matter what. He tells himself he can stop but he... doesn’t. And he hates that too.
“Would you like a drink?” He held up a bottle of wine. “Or are you not staying?”











