#(though he's also just plain bad at flirting)

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

I love being a wild card in this fandom.  

What I love about Sauron/Mairon x Galadriel is that their dynamic isn’t some basic Light vs. Dark nonsense. Because this is Tolkien, not some Hollywood digested cr*p, as the professor says himself:

Some reviewers have called the whole thing simple-minded, just a plain fight between Good and Evil, with all the good just good, and the bad just bad. Pardonable, perhaps (though at least Boromir has been overlooked) in people in a hurry, and with only a fragment to read, and, of course, without the earlier written but unpublished Elvish histories. But the Elves are not wholly good or in the right. Not so much because they had flirted with Sauron; as because with or without his assistance they were 'embalmers'. They wanted to have their cake and eat it: to live in the mortal historical Middle-earth because they had become fond of it (and perhaps because they there had the advantages of a superior caste), and so tried to stop its change and history, stop its growth, keep it as a pleasaunce, even largely a desert, where they could be 'artists' – and they were overburdened with sadness and nostalgic regret. Tolkien, Letter 154

This is what I've been telling you guys. The Elves are not hopeless victims of Sauron, nor are they the "heroes" of the story. Tolkien lore is complex, it's not "pure Good vs. pure Evil" like the "lorebros" or the Peter Jackson fanboys claim. Stop believing their nonsense, they don't know what they are talking about. The battle of “good vs. evil”, in Tolkien legendarium, ultimately, happens within each character.

When they first met, Mairon and Galadriel both turned their backs on literal heaven (Valinor) because of their pride: Galadriel wanted the glory of seeking and destroying Sauron for herself; Mairon couldn’t bring himself to face judgement from the Valar. Mairon was the repentant sinner, while Galadriel was on her way to become one.

Galadriel is a literal ticking bomb, ready to explode and turn Dark at any moment, in "Rings of Power". Mairon was drawn to the darkness within her, and not to her “light” (this is another way he self-deceives himself). Her “light” (= Two Trees of Valinor) is merely aesthetic. She doesn’t have that light, and that’s why she’ll use Nenya, and her Mirror and her Phial to harvest purest Light, and become the “Lady of Light”.

In “Rings of Power” there is a clue that Mairon might be blood bound to Morgoth, and, so, he’s always unconsciously seeking his former master, and that’s why he wanted to serve Galadriel. Because he's a Maia, he was created to be a servant to a Vala. The deal, wasn't her becoming his servant, but the other way around.

And we are talking about Sauron, here: his whole character arc is not one of redemption, so he the interest he believes he has on "Light" is not real, it's one of his self-deceptions. And for Sauron to never stop grouping Galadriel’s mind, thousands of years into the future, when he’s already officially the “shadow of Morgoth” it’s because he recognizes her potential for darkness, not her light.  

This doesn’t mean that he’s unredeemable, mind you. Tolkien’s work is infused with Christian doctrine (mainly Catholicism), and in this religion one can always find redemption and forgiveness if one actually repents for their sins, and makes amends for them (which will be Galadriel's case). And this is also present in Tolkien lore: no character is unredeemable on his world. But in the legendarium, after refusing to stand trial before the Valar, Sauron never truly repents, and becomes the "a reincarnation of Evil" aka Morgoth come again.

And there is Sauron. In the Silmarillion and Tales of the First Age Sauron was a being of Valinor perverted to the service of the Enemy and becoming his chief captain and servant. He repents in fear when the First Enemy is utterly defeated, but in the end does not do as was commanded, return to the judgement of the gods. He lingers in Middle-earth [Halbrand]. Very slowly, beginning with fair motives: the reorganising and rehabilitation of the ruin of Middle-earth, neglected by the gods', he becomes a reincarnation of Evil, and a thing lusting for Complete Power – and so consumed ever more fiercely with hate (especially of gods and Elves). All through the twilight of the Second Age the Shadow is growing in the East of Middle-earth, spreading its sway more and more over Men – who multiply as the Elves begin to fade. Tolkien Letter 131

Sauron was of course not 'evil' in origin. He was a 'spirit' corrupted by the Prime Dark Lord (the Prime sub-creative Rebel) Morgoth. He was given an opportunity of repentance, when Morgoth was overcome, but could not face the humiliation of recantation, and suing for pardon; and so his temporary turn to good and 'benevolence' ended in a greater relapse, until he became the main representative of Evil of later ages. But at the beginning of the Second Age he was still beautiful to look at, or could still assume a beautiful visible shape – and was not indeed wholly evil, not unless all 'reformers' who want to hurry up with 'reconstruction' and 'reorganization' are wholly evil, even before pride and the lust to exert their will eat them up. The particular branch of the High-Elves concerned, the Noldor or Loremasters, were always on the side of 'science and technology', as we should call it: they wanted to have the knowledge that Sauron genuinely had, and those of Eregion refused the warnings of Gil-galad and Elrond. Tolkien Letter 153

Halbrand was repentant Mairon. Annatar is Mairon falling back into evil.

Galadriel is not yet the “repentant sinner” Tolkien described her to be, in his legendarium, either. In Season 2, she doesn’t own up to her actions, and is still making excuses for them: “I was deceived”; “Sauron used me”; “Under his harp I was played to a melody not of my choosing”, bla bla bla.

She’s still in self-denial about her actions in Season 1: she’s the one who tempted Mairon with promises of power and, pretty much directly, caused him to choose deception over redemption, and condemned Middle-earth to Sauron’s tyranny (this is also somewhat compatible to what Tolkien wrote, because in the lore the Elves are also to blame).

And I’m almost certain she’ll have to f*ck up even harder in order to have a “eye opening” moment. Because one can’t really be a “penitent” (using Tolkien’s words) unless one takes ownership of one's actions, and makes the conscious decision to atone for them. 

[geminiwritten]

hot dream ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you fall asleep in butcher’s sweater and have a rather steamy dream, not realising that everyone heard you moaning butcher’s name in your sleep

notes: this is so bad, and it makes me so sad because i was so excited to write it, but work has been so blegh that i just feel like i failed??? i don’t know, it’s definitely not my best writing, but it’s something! hope y’all can still enjoy!

warnings: swearing, google-translated french, some very incorrect chemistry, and a tiny bit of smut (i’m working myself up to actually writing it, i promise!)

^ the sweater

word count: 4691

“It’s fucking cold in here,” you say, rubbing your arms as you step into the living room.

Frenchie and Kimiko are curled up under a blanket on the couch, and Butcher is lounging on the single seat sofa with his feet propped on top of the coffee table. You know MM is on his way back from Monique’s house with spare clothes and comforters, but you also know how caught up he can get when he spends time with Janine.

“You do not have a jumper?” Frenchie asks.

You shake your head, “The last sweatshirt I had was burnt to a crisp two weeks ago.”

New York City is quickly falling into winter, the air turning crisp and heavy clouds rolling overhead as news channels warn about impending snow within the week.

Kimiko looks up at you and wriggles her arms out of the blanket to sign an apology, gesturing to the jumper she wears as the only one she has.

Butcher sighs and pushes himself off the sofa, “I’ve got somethin’.”

The tiny butterflies in your stomach flitter to life, bouncing around excitedly at the thought of wearing Butcher’s clothing. You move a hand from your arm to your stomach and curse the stupid giddiness that this man aroused within you. It’s ridiculous, really, and just a stupid crush, but he never fails to elicit some sort of irritating physical reaction within your body every time he speaks.

He disappears into the main bedroom for a moment before remerging with a black garment in hand. “Here,” he says, handing it to you, “don’t get it burnt though, it’s my favourite.”

You give him a cheeky smile, “I make no promises.”

Your fingers brush his as you take the sweater from his hand, and his eyes capture yours in a stare you cannot break. His lip quirks into that gorgeous smirk you’ve come to enjoy so much, sending those stupid butterflies into a frenzy before he turns back toward the sofa.

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding and with numb fingers, find the bottom of the sweatshirt before pulling it over your head. His scent hits you like a truck, rushing through your nose and burning all the way to your lungs. Your chest squeezes around your erratic heart, your ribs aching as they struggle to contain the throbbing muscle. It feels like you’ve been punched in the sternum, and your limbs feel like jelly wrapped in the soft material saturated by his scent.

You know this sweater almost too well, having admired him in it countless times. It’s a little too big on you, but on him, it’s perfect. The thick material hugs his shoulders and fits his torso in the most delicious way. It’s ridiculous that he can make something as plain as this sweater look downright sinful.

“Better?” Butcher asks, his eyes sparkling with a mischief that makes you wonder what he knows.

You nod, “Much.”

Kimiko shuffles over on the couch so that you can squeeze between her and the arm, the side closest to Butcher. You try to focus on the lame action film playing on the television, but the smell of the jumper clouds your mind, and you can feel Butcher’s gaze wandering over to you every few seconds. You want to say something, but every string of words that come to mind are laced with innuendo and teasing, and although you’re very fond of flirting with this man, you’re not sure you can handle it in your current state.

The sun is well below the horizon by the time MM arrives back, his arms full of blankets and second-hand clothing. Kimiko takes two jumpers and a blanket before seeing herself off to bed, and MM does the same shortly after. Frenchie throws another blanket over himself and invites you to share his warmth while Butcher remains on the single sofa with nothing but his trench coat. After almost three movies, your eyelids begin to droop, and you let your head fall onto Frenchie’s shoulder as sleep slowly consumes you.

You startle awake, your mind swirling with images of Butcher. You can still see him hovering over you, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, and his wicked grin as he settles between your thighs. Heat pulses between your legs at the fading memory, and your skin feels like it’s on fire, phantom touches lingering in the shape of Butcher’s hands on your hips, your breasts, your throat.

You have to blink a few times before the living room comes into focus, bright light flooding the space through the drawn curtains as dust mites float through the air. The blankets covering you suddenly feel like they weigh a tonne, and you have to throw them off your sweaty body before you pass out.

“Good morning, mon petit rayon de soleil,” Frenchie greets you, sitting in the sofa where you last consciously saw Butcher.

“Hey,” you mumble as you sit up.

His grin is wide and cheeky, “Did you have a good sleep?”

“It was okay,” you reply, rubbing your neck, “as good as it gets on this old couch.”

“I did not have the heart to wake you,” he says, “you looked so peaceful and were… humming so contently.”

You frown sceptically, “Okay…”

MM is in the kitchen, standing at the stove with a goofy smile as he watches the eggs in the pan cook.

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten,” Frenchie responds.

“What?” you demand, “You let me sleep for that long? Don’t we have things to do today?”

MM chuckles, “We didn’t want to wake you, as Frenchie said, you were so content.”

Spikes of panic begin prickling your skin and your eyes dart from Frenchie to MM, searching their impish faces for any sign of what could be making them so smug.

“Where’s Butcher?”

“Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself,” Frenchie says, “but he is awake.”

MM serves the eggs onto two plates and carries them over to the table where Kimiko is sat. She grins at him before digging in to her breakfast, and your own stomach begins to rumble.

“I suppose I will get my own,” Frenchie sighs, pushing himself off the sofa and walking toward the kitchen.

“I’ll have some too,” you call after him, “thanks, Frenchie.”

He smirks at you with the carton of eggs in hand, “Anything for you, mon amour. How do you like your eggs?”

“Hard boiled,” MM replies before you can, snickering as he takes a bite of toast.

Frenchie giggles too, and he quickly turns toward the stove to avoid your dubious stare.

“What the fuck are you two on this morning?”

They don’t respond as their laughter continues to bubble. Frenchie waves a hand dismissively, still refusing to look at you, before placing a pot and a pan on top of the stove.

“I prefer fried,” you mutter, still frowning.

He nods and moves the pot back into the cupboard just as the doors to the main bedroom creak open. Butcher steps out in faded jeans and yet another hideous Hawaiian shirt with only three of the lower buttons fastened. His hair is a complete mess and his cheeks flushed red; he looks as if he’d just sprinted several blocks.

“You’re awake,” he states.

You nod, “So are you.”

He chuckles, “Been awake for a couple’a hours, love.”

MM is struggling with his breakfast, his laughter refusing to subside though he does his best to quell it, his whole face turning red. Frenchie has turned his back to you completely now, but you can still see his shoulders shaking as he giggles into his hand.

“Did I miss something?” you ask Butcher as he falls into the single sofa.

His smirk just as devilish as Frenchie’s, “Nothin’ at all, in fact, I think it’s me who missed somethin’.”

“Okay,” you sigh, “you’re all being weird, and I’m incredibly sweaty, so I’m going to shower.”

“Breakfast will be ready for you when you return, mon amour,” Frenchie says, “take your time cleaning your- uh, humidité.”

Butcher chuckles as another wave of mirth hits MM, and he begins to choke on his mouthful of food. You roll your eyes before turning on your heel and stomping toward the bathroom, leaving them to their stupidity.

The cold air nips at your bare skin as you strip in the bathroom, carefully laying Butcher’s sweater on the vanity before stepping under the warm shower spray. You take your time washing your hair and scrubbing your body, hazy flashes of hot touches and wet kisses invading your mind as you close your eyes and let the water soak your skin. By the time you shut the shower off, you’re thoroughly clean and a little dizzy with desire. You dry off before wrapping the towel around your body and gathering your clothes to dash across the hall toward your bedroom.

You can’t help glancing in the direction of the living room when you step out, your eyes locking with Butcher’s dark gaze for the split second it takes you to reach your room. Your pulse is thrumming at a ridiculous pace as you unwrap the towel and turn toward your dresser. You slip on a fresh pair of panties and jeans, and turn to the sweater you’d tossed on your bed. Your stomach grumbles impatiently while you procrastinate, and you curse quietly to yourself before slipping the sweater over your head without anything underneath.

The living room wreaks of burnt toast when you remerge from your bedroom, and Frenchie is swearing at the toaster in such fast French, you can’t possibly try to understand it.

“Did you ruin my breakfast?” you ask, walking past Butcher and leaning your hip on the kitchen bench.

“I did not ruin anything,” Frenchie says with a frown, “this good for nothing piece of shit machine did.”

You can feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of your head and you know it’s Butcher, but you refuse to turn around, instead joining Frenchie in the kitchen to take over the toaster. After a few minutes of patience, the toast pops perfectly grilled and you place two pieces on each of your plates before Frenchie tops it with eggs.

“So,” MM says when you and Frenchie join him at the table, “what’s today’s plan?”

“We need to go back to the old safe house,” Frenchie replies.

“The basement,” you note between bites of toast.

He nods, “We need to gather anything we left behind that might be useful. I am running out of materials and I know we left a stash of ammunition there.”

“Who’s to say it isn’t already gone?” MM queries.

Frenchie shrugs, “We do not know, but it is worth a try.”

You want to point out that it isn’t really necessary for all of you to go, but you know that will only end in an argument, so you focus on finishing your breakfast. Once you’re all done, MM collects the empty plates and begins washing up while the rest of you go to gather your things.

You pack a small crossbody bag with your phone and keys before tucking a sheathed dagger into the back of your jeans, just in case. When you step back into the living room, Frenchie and MM are waiting by the door, whispering and giggling about something until they see you approach. You want to demand they let you in on whatever stupid joke you’d missed out on this morning, but Butcher’s heavy footsteps capture your attention before you can speak.

“Righ’ then, lads,” he says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat, “let’s get on with it.”

Your gaze lingers on his lips as he speaks before trailing down his neck and bare chest, finding a mere two more buttons fastened than before. Heat rises to your cheeks, creeping all the way up to the tips of your ears as your mouth begins to water and another blurry image of Butcher fills your mind. You see him on his knees before you, looking up with hungry eyes and parted lips, murmuring something filthy that doesn’t quite reach your ears.

You gasp, blinking rapidly to return to reality and finding three curious faces staring back at you.

“Are you okay?” Frenchie asks.

You nod, “I’m good, let’s go.”

You step between him and MM and walk out the door first, turning down the hall without bothering to wait. They’re giggling again by the time they catch up to you in the lobby, and even Butcher is wearing an amused smirk. He winks as he walks past you, pulling his car keys from his pocket before holding the front door open for the rest of you. Unlike every other time you’ve all been walking toward the car, no one calls shot gun. Frenchie simply opens the back door for Kimiko to slide in before he does, and MM follows without a single complaint.

You look at Butcher, “What the fuck?”

He shrugs, but his smirk is still saturated with amusement and the glint in his eyes tells you that this has something to do with whatever they were all being so smug about.

“You’re all pissing me off today,” you sigh, before walking around the car to the passenger’s side.

You’re not upset about getting the front seat, nor are you annoyed that you get to sit beside Butcher and practically drool over him while he has to pay attention to the road. You are, however, beginning to panic about what it is that they’re not telling you.

The drive isn’t long, and you spend most of it watching Butcher’s hands on the wheel, fantasising about how they would feel caressing every inch of your skin. It almost feels like a memory as you picture his fingers digging into your hips or wrapped gently around your throat, and you can feel your body growing hot within the thick material of his sweater. You practically fall out of the car when it finally stops, gasping for cool air and willing your mind to focus on the task at hand.

Frenchie leads the way down a narrow alley and pushes open the familiar metal door before the rest of you follow him into the dark, damp corridor of what used to be your hide out. You all stay silent for a few minutes, creeping around and checking for any unusual activity or signs that the place might be bugged or trapped. It’s definitely been ransacked, but there are thin films of dust blanketing almost every surface which indicates that whoever was looking in here had given up a long time ago.

“Okay,” Frenchie speaks up once deciding that you’re safe, “let’s see what we’ve got left.”

You split up and wander around the huge, open basement. There are two curtain dividers sectioning the space into what you used as ‘bedrooms’, and a single chipped, wooden door leading to the tiny bathroom at the very back. MM goes in there first, rummaging around for half a minute before declaring it empty.

“Is there anything in particular that we’re looking for?” you ask, turning to Frenchie, “Because there’s a lot of crap in here, and as much as I’d love for you all to rummage through my old underwear drawer, maybe we should-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Frenchie and Butcher take off, abandoning the shelves they were searching and knocking one of the curtain dividers over as they scramble toward the old dresser you used to use.

“Hey!” you shout, your eyes growing wide as you hurry after them.

They’re giggling like maniacs as they wrench the drawers open one by one, tossing out the few items of clothing that still remained in there before realising that there was, in fact, no underwear left behind.

“I was joking,” you say, “fucking pervs.”

Frenchie chuckles, “Can you blame us, mon amour?”

“Yes!”

MM is snickering in the small kitchenette as he picks through the lower cupboards one by one. As much as you want to enjoy the rare light-heartedness within the group right now, you can’t stop wondering why the hell they were all in such a giddy mood. Are they all high?

“Alrigh’ you lot,” Butcher says, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as his laughter subsides, “stop messin’ about, we’ve got a job to do.”

You roll your eyes and trudge toward where MM is, starting on the top cupboards of the small kitchen while they begin opening old crates and suitcases. Frenchie starts a pile by the stairs, stacking up anything he finds that might be useful or too valuable to abandon. There isn’t much, but there are still a couple of cases of ammunition and packets of powders that you know are combustible in some way.

“Wait!” Frenchie shouts suddenly, crouching beside an electrical socket. “Be careful. Somebody has shorted the wiring, intentionally or not, I do not know, but do not touch the outlets or anything still plugged in.”

You slowly retract your hand from beside the rusty old microwave. “What will happen?”

“You will probably be electrocuted.”

“Good to know,” Butcher sighs.

You all return to your ransacking with cautious hands and watchful eyes, skirting around anything electrical or made of metal. When you approach the refrigerator, you can hear a soft, crackling hum, and MM looks at you with wide eyes. It was never a reliable machine, but now it is most definitely a death trap.

You continue your search through the cupboards, knocking half-full packets of rice and flour off the shelves as you stretch up onto your toes to see inside. This job is probably better suited to someone with more of a height advantage, but you’ve always been stubborn, so you don’t bother asking for help.

The cupboard above the sink, adjacent to the stove – you always thought it was stupid to put the sink right beside the stove – reveals a cluster of cleaning products. You reach as far as you can, straining your arms to reach the bottles on the top shelf and groaning at the tension in your body.

Behind you, MM mimics the noise, only louder, “Ungh.”

You hear Frenchie snicker, “No, no, it was more like, mmmh.”

Your fingertips scrape the bottle closest to the front of the cupboard and you huff in frustration.

“Nngh,” MM groans again.

“Ahhh,” Frenchie moans loudly, before dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Determined to ignore them, you try to stretch up even further. Your back aches but your fingers find the bottle once again, scratching at it in an attempt to get it to move.

MM sighs seductively, “Ohh, yeah.”

“Mmm, Butcher,” Frenchie gasps.

Your stomach drops and you lose your balance, stumbling as you whirl around to face them. “What the fuck?”

Frenchie giggles as he meets your stare, “Oops.”

The bottle from the top shelf of the cupboard falls forward and knocks your shoulder, popping the cap off. The liquid inside spills all over your chest just as realisation hits you.

“That’s what all this has been about?!” you exclaim, “you heard me having a fucking sex dream and instead of waking me up, you listened?”

MM can’t stop laughing, with one hand holding his stomach while the other supports his body against the old dining room table. You’ve never seen this man so flustered, and if you weren’t so embarrassed, you might have enjoyed seeing him so overwhelmed with laughter.

Frenchie, however, has gone completely pale, stepping forward with a petrified expression. “Y/N, listen-”

“No,” you snap, “I won’t listen! You are such a-”

“Y/N!” he shouts, “do not move.”

The room falls silent and panic ripples through your body.

“Please, mon amour, stay still,” he pleads as he hurries toward you.

He steps carefully around the puddles on the floor before reaching down to pick up the now empty bottle. He studies the label for less than a second before looking back at you with panicked eyes.

“You need to take off your jumper, now.”

You frown, “What? Why?”

“This is isopropyl alcohol,” he says, “it is highly flammable. If anything in this place so much as sparks, it will catch fire and if the vapours ignite, this whole building could explode.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, looking down at the soaked front of Butcher’s sweater.

Frenchie turns to MM, “Get something, get a bag, and get ready to go.”

You remain still as your pulse quickens, “Frenchie.”

“Butcher,” he says, “you and Kimiko start taking things up the stairs, do not come over here.”

Butcher frowns, “Like hell I’m leavin’ her.”

“Frenchie,” you repeat.

“I will get her out, okay? Just take what we’ve got and let’s get out.”

“I don’t give a fuck about this crap,” Butcher argues, “I care about her, and I’m not leavin’ ‘til I know she’s safe.”

“Frenchie!” you exclaim, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

The room falls quiet once again, and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks as each of them turn to you with curious eyes.

“Nothin’?” Butcher asks, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Nothing,” you reply.

Despite the situation, Frenchie is the first to snicker.

“Come ‘ere,” Butcher says, “slowly.”

You step carefully out of the kitchen, avoiding every surface as your boots squelch against the wet floor. Once you’re in front of him, he shrugs off his coat and gestures for you to remove the sweater. Your heart pounds as you turn your back to him, and he holds his jacket up to shield you, though not quite high enough to block his own view. You hold your breath and pull the sweater up, squeezing your eyes shut as it slips over your head. You can feel his breath on your back as soon as it’s bare, and a whole different kind of heat rushes through you.

He drops his coat around your shoulders and you quickly hug it against your chest. His scent envelops you, even more so than it had with the sweater, and your nerves begin to ease almost immediately.

“Give it to me,” Frenchie says, holding a plastic bag open toward you.

You drop the sweater in and he ties it off.

“Let’s go.”

MM, Kimiko, and Butcher grab what they can before you all ascend the stairs. You hurry through the corridor and out into the alley, not stopping until you’re all safe inside the car.

“Did you get any on your pants, mon amour?” Frenchie asks.

You push the bottom of Butcher’s jacket off your legs to inspect. “Only a little.”

“It will not damage the clothing, but we should wash everything right away.”

You nod before glancing toward Butcher. His face is a mixture of concern and mischief, his eyes struggling to watch the road instead of you, sitting beside him and wrapped in his favourite coat.

“Should we tell someone about that situation back there?” MM pipes up.

“I will call somebody to clean it up,” Frenchie replies.

It isn’t long before you’re all quietly climbing out of the car and carrying your finds up to the apartment. Everyone kicks their shoes off at the door, per Frenchie’s instructions, and begins sorting through the bags and boxes of old materials and equipment.

Frenchie turns to you, “Give me your jeans.”

“Right now?”

He nods and you sigh, deciding not to argue. You turn away from them and open the coat, quickly unbuttoning your jeans and slipping them off before wrapping yourself back up. When you turn back around, he’s adorning that same silly grin that he’d been wearing all morning.

“Is this how it started in your dream?”

You roll your eyes and shove your jeans into his outstretched hand. “Just because you kind of saved my life, doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed at you.”

He giggles as he takes your clothes and walks down the hall to the laundry.

“In his defence,” Butcher smirks, “I told ‘em not to wake you.”

“You what?”

He steps toward you and shrugs, “I liked hearin’ those pretty little noises you were makin’.”

The butterflies in your stomach burst to life and your pulse begins to race.

He leans forward as he whispers, “Liked it a little too much.”

You suddenly remember what Frenchie had said this morning when you asked where Butcher was: ‘Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself’.

“Now,” Butcher clears his throat, “you gon’a give me my coat back before you spill somethin’ else on it?”

You raise your brows, “You want it back right now? Right here?”

He glances over his shoulder toward MM and Kimiko before turning back to you, “Maybe not righ’ here.”

You step around him and walk through the kitchen toward the main bedroom, avoiding MM’s eyes as you pass the dining room table. You don’t bother closing the doors behind you, because sure enough, a pair of heavy footsteps follow closely behind. The door clicks shut and you turn around to look at Butcher. You let your eyes wander over his body, your mouth watering as you follow the collar of his shirt down his bare chest where the top buttons lay open.

“I’m not gon’a lie,” he says, his hungry gaze pinning you to the floor, “as much as I fuckin’ loved hearin’ you whisper my name… I can’t wait to make you scream it.”

His words punch you in the chest, knocking all the air from your legs as heat pools between your legs.

“Now, love,” he steps forward, “can I ‘ave my coat back?”

Your fingers tremble as you grip the lapels of the jacket, moving your shoulders so the material falls off before you open it up and let it drop to the floor. He draws one sharp breath, his eyes growing wide as they move up and down your body, devouring every inch of it as if he’s never seen anything so perfect.

He closes the distance between you and wraps his hands around your waist, fingertips digging into the flesh of your back with bruising pressure.

“D’you know how hard I came to the thought of you this morning?” he murmurs.

You can’t do anything but stare back at him, your lips aching to taste him, all of him.

“So fuckin’ hard,” he whispers before capturing your mouth with his.

You moan as you melt against him, your arms wrapping around his neck and your fingers tangling through his hair as he claims your mouth. His hands squeeze your waist and pull you closer, pressing your naked body against him. The friction of his shirt against your nipples makes you gasp, and he takes advantage of your open mouth, sliding his tongue past your lips.

“Can’t fuckin’ imagine,” he mumbles against your mouth, “how hard I’m gon’a come with you on my cock.”

The ball of tension throbbing below your stomach explodes, and you use all of your strength to push him back toward the bed. He chuckles as he falls back, his hand catching your wrist to pull you down on top of him.

“Tell me ‘bout your dream, love,” he says as you hover over him, “where was I?”

You plant an open-mouthed kiss on his collarbone before biting down and making him groan.

“You were everywhere,” you whisper against his skin, “marking me, claiming me.”

He moans again as you grind your hips down, the friction of his jeans sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

“I don’t fuckin’ need to claim you,” he growls, his hands holding your hips as he thrusts up, “you’re already mine.”

He lifts you up enough to flip you onto your back, his body moving with yours and settling between your legs as he hovers over you. He dips down, his lips finding your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin before biting down hard. You moan loudly, and quickly smack a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

“I don’t think so, love,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pinning it to the bed, “I said, I wan’a hear you fuckin’ scream.”

END.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Realizations

Barbie dolls: Jegulus x gn!reader

Summary: you and James are dating and then Sirius introduces regulus and now you both are crushing

Warnings: James gets called a whore not during sex, James wears crop tops?, Regulus kinda makes James feel bad about his shirt, trans Reggie? Is that a warning?, regulus is strange for sure, mentions of sex and arousal but like its ovulation week so what were you expecting, idk James wears bell bottoms, ITS NOT THAT CRAZY GUYS

Word count: 2.8k-ish

You loved Sirius. He was hilarious, one of the most caring and stylish people you’ve ever met. So when Sirius told you all he was going to properly introduce everyone to his little brother, Regulus, you were excited. When Sirius pulled the boy into the room with all your friends you started to understand why Sirius seemed hesitant at first. First, his brother was a bit of a bitch. Second, fuck he was hot.

You loved James. So much. He was an amazing boyfriend, an amazing person. James was your best friend who you also happened to love fucking. Not the point, point is you felt incredibly guilty finding Regulus attractive. Not only was he Sirius’ little brother, you were sitting in the same room as your boyfriend. You looked to James, you wanted to see his reaction to Regulus calling you all “a bunch of stupid dickheads.” When you looked to him, he was already looking at you. James was sporting your same blush. He mouthed wow before looking back to Sirius. Sirius was telling Regulus to be more friendly. Regulus told Sirius to shove it up his ass. At the mention of Sirius’ ass, Remus was suddenly stuttering over his words. Peter glared at Remus.

“Merlin, try to pull yourself together moony.” Peter muttered. It was funny and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t trying your hardest to not check out your friend’s younger brother in front of your spectacular boyfriend. James had stayed entirely silent this whole time. You stared at him. His eyes were wide, his cheeks were flushed, his lips were tightly pressed together. You knew the look. You’d seen it before, when James met you the first time.

You met Lovely Lily and Ravishing Remus first. You all had a study group together. Though the studying slowly started to decline as you three started gossiping more and more. They started to talk about their ever growing friend group more and more. They decided keeping you to themselves was just plain unfair, so they introduced you to their other friends. Sirius seemed a little mean, glaring at you the whole time Remus and Lily shared your name. The second you complimented his leather jacket, Sirius was beaming. Peter seemed to be ignoring you, fully focused in his homework. The next time you met him, he had no work in front of him. You warmed up to Peter quickly after that. You had first avoided James’ eyes because he seemed to be intimidating. He was just sat there on the ground staring up at you and you thought he was amping up to insult you. When you finally looked at him you realized you have just met a man with absolutely nothing behind his eyes. His jaw was slack and he was just staring up at you. Lily reached out and gently closed James’ jaw for him. He finally sat up straight, greeting you with a large smile. You nodded awkwardly. James pressed his lips together, trying to stop himself from saying something to stupid. His eyes were bugged out and his ears were turning red. Now James was giving Regulus the same look.

You honestly weren’t upset he was into Regulus, because you were too. Clearly, you needed to have a private conversion with James about this later. You did. You both liked him, and now you had to figure out how to handle this. Do you both flirt with your friend’s brother? Do you pretend like nothing is going on? You really didn’t want to scare poor Regulus away. You both knew how hard it must’ve been for him to meet his brother’s friends. It would just be so strange and uncomfortable if half your older brother’s friends started flirting with you the day after you met them. So, you both decided you’d give him time to get comfortable with all of you before either of you said anything to Regulus.

Months later Regulus was like he’d been with you all since day one. He jokingly made fun of everyone, making his own inside jokes with you all, and he’d join in on pranks and plans. Sirius was quite happy he got time to make his bond with Regulus stronger. Remus got another person who loved to gossip. Peter got a friend who loved history as much as he did. Lily got someone to share her younger sibling trauma with. You and James got a lovely friend who was so funny and mean to you both. He hated you guys. You both loved it. You’d throw insults back and forth all the while a grin plastered on your face. Next to you both James would be sat there with his lovesick eyes and soft smile. His eyes bouncing between you both as Regulus threatened to torture you horrifically, only for you to continue flirting with him. James would be grinning brightly, so happy he got to watch the two hottest people in Hogwarts try to kill each other.

When you and James caught a glimpse of Regulus sitting across the Library while on your study date, you turned to each other. You shared a knowing look, closing your books and making your way over to him without a word. The second you slipped into the seat in front of Regulus, he sighed deeply.

“And I thought my day was going well.” Regulus muttered, keeping his eyes on the journal he was scribbling in. James stood next to you, already smiling.

‘Awe come on Reggie, you love us.” You countered, resting your head on your palm. Regulus glanced up at you. Regulus bit onto the end of his fountain pen as he looked over you and James. You dropped your gaze to his lips. The pen pushing down on his bottom lip making it look extra kissable. Your eyes trailed down the pen, seeing his initials engraved with silver.

Sirius gave it to him after he came out. You remember because Sirius came to you with zero context just blurting out ‘how does one love a trans man?’ After a long few minutes of you staring blankly at Sirius, he explained the situation further. You had seen Regulus sitting in various odd positions and places, writing away. You noticed how he had to balance an ink pot in one hand and write with the other, so all you could come up with as a coming out gift was a pen. Although Sirius told you it made Regulus cry and you’ve never seen Regulus without it. You’re glad Sirius got all the credit.

Your gaze followed down to his hand gently holding onto the pen. His rings were always attractive, it wasn’t just you. James thought so too. Regulus kept rubbing his finger over the small ring of silver near the tip of his pen. You shouldn’t have found it hot. It was though. James rested his hand on your shoulder, gently squeezing it to say ‘i know right?’ You met Regulus’ eyes again to see him looking you up and down. His eyes flickered over to gazing over James’ body. James had found the magic of crop tops a few weeks back and now any chance he got his was showing off his happy trail in a shirt with some phrase like ‘I love milfs’ or ‘eat your girl out or I will’. You loved them, you didn’t love all the detentions he got from getting dress coded. You felt it was a fair trade. Regulus’ eyes snagged on his happy trail. Regulus poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He suddenly sat up straight and schooled his features, meeting your eyes again. You gave him a knowing smile.

“If you consider wanting to partake in homicide love, then yes. I do.” You smiled at him letting out an awe. You shared a look with James. You reached out, hooking your finger in the belt loop of his bell bottomed pants. You tugged James closer and winked up at him.

“You hear that, Jamie? He loves us. We love you too Reggie.” Regulus rolled his eyes. He turned back to his journal. You leaned over the table, peeking at his writing. Regulus slammed his journal shut. He slowly slid it across the table, hiding it in his lap.

“What are you writing?” You tapped Regulus’ hand on the table. He didn’t move his hand away, nor did he wipe it.

“Is it dirty?” James added in. You both turned to him, giving him a confused look. James look between your faces. He pressed his lips together.

“I’d call you a whore-“ Regulus started.

“Oh please do.” You smirked. Regulus ignored you continuing with his sentence.

“But I think you’d like it too much. Potter have you ever heard of a shirt? You put your arms through it? Covers your torso? Not ringing a bell, or did you leave your brain at home?” James looked down at his shirt, frowning at it. He pulled at the hem.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” He sounded like a kicked puppy. You quickly reached out, rubbing his thigh.

“Nothing baby it’s so cute.”

“You mean aside from it breaking half of dress code?” Regulus said, talking over you.

“Do you not like my tummy, Reg?” You grimaced turning to James.

“Don’t say tummy.” You and Regulus said, in sync. You glanced over to him. You shared an understanding look before smiling softly at James. His shoulders had slumped a little since the start of the conversation. You stood up. You rubbed your hand up and down James’ arm, kissing his cheek.

“See you later, Regulus.” You whispered, gently tugging your boyfriend away.

“I hope not.”

You and James carried on like usual, following your usual routines and date nights. Only difference was Regulus seemed to appear more and more. You never asked him to join you guys or tell him to meet you, he just kind of showed up. You and James had planned date nights on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Weekends were anybody’s game or makeup time for a missed date but Tuesdays and Thursdays were pretty regular for you two. Date nights meant anything from passing out on the floor of the common room to breaking more rules than you liked to. Though it didn’t seem to matter what you two were doing because Regulus appeared near you. If you were sitting by the Black Lake just to relax in each other’s presence you’d catch a glimpse of Regulus’ hair across the lake. You’d both stand up to wave to him, if he did notice he never waved back. If you were lying in the courtyard napping in the sun, you’d roll over to see Regulus under a tree not far from you. You’d drag James up and lay back down next to Regulus. If you were having a study date in the Library you’d see Regulus walk past with a tall stack of books. You’d pull James up by his arm, following after Regulus. You’d all share the same table with Regulus pretending he didn’t notice either of you. No matter what he was somewhere near you and James. So you’d include him, obviously. It’d be awkward if you didn’t. You started to think that maybe this wasn’t all coincidence when you saw Regulus showed up in the Gryffindor commonroom, hunched over his journal like usual. His shoes were placed on the floor next to the end of the couch. Regulus was sitting to the side his back pressed to the armrest with his knees pulled to his chest.

“Hey Reg, what are you doing here?” You asked. James scoffed behind you. You glanced at him and grimaced, realizing it sounded kinda mean. Regulus looked up from his book, biting the top of his pen again. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Well fuck you too then.” He muttered. You rolled your eyes, sitting down next to him. Regulus tucked his socked feet under your thigh. You knew he ran cold, you were actually secretly making him a sweater for his birthday. You wouldn’t dare tell him that though because A: it would ruin the surprise and B: he’d get all ‘no you shouldn’t have. I don’t deserve this’. He’s all traumatized like that, so you kept it quiet. Only person who knew was James. James laid down on the couch, dangling his legs over the armrest and throwing his head in your lap.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Regulus. You know I love your company. I was just confused because I don’t think you know the password.” You stared at Regulus, hoping he’d show you somehow that he wasn’t truly hurt by it. Regulus stared at you with his blue eyes. Both of the Black brothers had blue eyes. Sirius’ were a light piercing blue that, upon your first interaction, you thought were freaky. He seemed to peer directly into your soul, seeing everything you were and loving you anyways. Maybe that’s why Remus liked his eyes so much. Regulus’ were a deep blue. When he finally made eye contact with you, you felt like you were getting sucked into the depths of the ocean. His eyes were all consuming. They covered you in him, all you think about when looking into Regulus’ eyes was Regulus. If Sirius’ eyes looked into your soul, Regulus’ showed you his soul. Regulus looked back to his page, making you miss his stare.

“What you guys doing here anyways?” Regulus muttered like it wasn’t your boyfriend’s common room. You slipped your hand behind Regulus’ knee massaging the back of his calf. Regulus didn’t react at all, continuing to scribble away. James tilted his head back, staring at Regulus upside down.

“Date night.” James explained, laying back down. Regulus winced, he looked to you to verify. You nodded.

“Oh wow James you sure are romantic, taking your partner all the way to your common room.” Regulus said. You smiled at him. You patted James’ chest, reminding him he could take you to a landfill and you’d still love him. James sat up.

“Hey we were going to go take a nap. That’s very romantic.” James said. He pointed at Regulus like a scolding mother. You gently pushed James’ finger down. You pecked his cheek.

“Yes you are so romantic James, no need to fist fight Reg.” James glared at Regulus as he laid back down in your lap. You rubbed Regulus’ calf up and down before returning to massaging it. You sat in silence for a few moments. Regulus continued writing away, while James started fiddling with your hand on his chest. You switched calf’s every few minutes, not wanting them to get uneven amounts of attention. You dropped your head back against the couch, closing your eyes. You heard Regulus move next to you. He gently traced the silhouette of your nose. You opened your eyes and stared at him without moving your head. You didn’t want to scare Regulus taking his hands away. Regulus dragged his finger down to your lips. His jaw went slack as he felt your lips against his fingertips. You held your breath as you felt a wave of arousal travel down your spine. His fingers dipped past your chin. Regulus traced down your throat, stopping at your collarbones. He fiddled with your necklace. Regulus moved the little J charm between his fingers. Regulus pulled his eyes away from your necklace to your eyes. You let out a small breath.

“You both ought to go take that nap now. I doubt you want to be spending your date night sat next to your friend’s little brother.” James sat up. His eyes snagged on Regulus’ fingers playing with your necklace. James looked up to you and gave you a smile. You both looked back to Regulus.

“Regulus, baby.” He gave you a confused look. He glanced between you and James. James sucked in a breath.

“We already spend most of our dates with you, so it wouldn’t really be much of a change.” James explained. Regulus removed his hand from you, closing his journal. Regulus stared at his lap for a few minutes, before looking up.

“I do not understand.” You gave him a small smile. You reached out and pushed his hair away from his face. You cupped Regulus’ cheek and rubbed your thumb against his skin. You leaned forward. Regulus fluttered his eyes shut, tilting his face up towards you. You gently kissed his cheek, teetering close to the corner of his lips. You pulled back. Regulus stared at you as you stood up. James quickly pecked Regulus’ other cheek before bounding up the stairs after you.

Regulus was starting to realize certain things about himself.

Part 2 >

[alexsoenomel]

Random Dean Winchester Headcanons:

Dean not letting you drive Baby. Too protective over his car. You would beg him but he would always say no. He let you once though – on your birthday – but ended up regretting when you almost crashed into a tree. 

He loved drinking coffee with you in the morning in silence. It was your morning ritual. Coffee and then everything else. 

Loved discussing music with you, especially during road trips. He would even let you pick the next song, just because he thought your taste was awesome. 

Being overprotective and possessive. If someone hurts you – they're dead. If someone flirts with you – they get a polite fuck off. If they continue? They get a punch in the face. 

He loved the way you would look at him whenever he would wear a suit. You loved pulling his tie and giving him a sweet little kiss before work, telling him how handsome he looked. 

He loved sleeping next to you. He loved the smell of your hair and how it lightly tickled his face. He also loved being the small spoon every once in a while – he felt safe next to you. He would still put his gun under his pillow though; old habits die hard. 

Dean loved when you would play with his hair, especially before bed since sleep deprivation was his best friend. 

Random dates. He loved taking you out on random free days. Dinners, drinks, star gazing, night drives – he loved spending time with you. 

He wasn’t much of a reader, but he loved when you would read him your favorite books. Sometimes he would read it to you, the sound of his voice was like a lullaby for you on bad days when you couldn’t sleep. You would use him as a pillow as he would read to you until your light snores filled the room. 

Arguing. You would argue mostly while working. You were both stubborn and impulsive so poor Sam always had to be the voice of reason. He wanted to keep you safe and you wanted to hunt.

Jealousy. You would get jealous. Dean was a good looking man and other women would try to get his attention and of course it never worked. He would just ignore them, but that still didn’t ease your jealousy. You would grow silent, anger written on your face and he would of course tease you, making the situation worse – for him.

“Be careful, she’s going to come and steal your man,” He told you once, after a waitress left her number on a napkin. 

“Be careful,” you started as you kicked him in the shin under the table, “next time I’m kicking you where you like my face the most.” He groaned in pain and Sam almost choked on his coffee. 

Bickering. Because he was a little shit and you were his little shit. Two sides of the same coin, actually. 

Kisses, lots and lots of kisses. He loved kissing every inch of you, taking his sweet time, slow, sensual and tortuous. You would whimper under him every single time. 

Holding hands. First time he held your hand was while driving home after a ghost almost took you out. He lectured you after Sam successfully burnt its bones, told you how reckless and stupid you were for jumping in front of him. Then he realized you almost died – the thought scared the living shit out of him.

He was a switch, plain and simple. Sometimes he loved calling you his dirty little slut, making you scream his name over and over, but other times he just wanted to admire your body as you would ride him. He loved when you were in control. 

Praise kink. That man loved being praised. “You feel so good, baby,” was his favorite. 

He would smile whenever you would call him handsome.

You were his sunshine, darling and sweetheart.  He would call you by your name only when he was pissed.

He loved you more than anything, but at the same time he thought he didn’t deserve you. 

You told him I love you first, drunk on whiskey after a successful hunt. Sam was sick that day, so it was only you and him. He didn’t say anything at first, instead he kissed you and took you home. He made love to you that night and between kisses the words slipped. “I love you too, sweetheart.” 

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 5

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.2k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story* Flirting, probably incorrect White House descriptions, this is almost definitely not how receiving lines actually work, celebrity chef cameo, the tension is building. Summary: Marcus pulls out all the stops at the State dinner, and June accidentally spills the beans. Notes: I unapologetically love this chapter. The State dinner is straight out of An American President and we even have a West Wing character sighting as well!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

If Sydney hadn't gone and called in that favor with one of the stylists she knows, you sincerely doubt that you would have been ready for the dinner in any way, shape, or form. The gown, the jewelry, the shoes — all of it is lovely and sumptuous in a way you think you'll never get used to, but you will be sending this particular stylist an enormous thank you gift from the local chocolatier for all the wonderful work she did on you. Despite the help, though, you're feeling remarkably nervous as you pace around your apartment waiting for enough time to pass that you can actually leave to pick up Marcus.

It almost feels wrong being picked up by you for the State dinner. He understands that it’s not a date, just a friend doing another friend a favor, but he was raised as a gentleman. He was taught to show up to the door of a lady’s house, escort them and show them a good time and then deposit them back onto their doorstep safely.

It's a sleek, black car that shows up in front of his apartment building. Nondescript in that way that reads definitely government issued but also not important enough to follow, and of course that is deliberate. It isn't your car. No, he's seen your little blue sedan several times already. He wouldn't even know it was you if he hadn't gotten your text and spied Agent Bailey in the passenger seat. When his buzzer goes off a second later, it's distinctly your voice on the other end.

“I’ll be down in two seconds.” Marcus promises, grabbing the small brooch he had seen when he was at an antique store running down a lead on a case. While it might not be protocol to give you a brooch, he felt like it was more appropriate than flowers for the occasion.

"You might want to let me up!" You counter, quickly before he walks away from the speaker. "I have something for you."

“Oh, uh, sure.” Marcus flushes even though you can’t see him and hits the buzzer to unlock the security door.

In what feels like just a few seconds, you rocket upstairs in your full gown and best peacoat. It wards off the February chill nicely and has pockets deep enough for your best gloves without crushing them. The little white cardboard box clutched in your hand was retrieved this morning, and you hope he appreciates the small, albeit grateful gesture.

Marcus checks his reflection in the mirror next to the door and opens it quickly. He isn’t sure if you know what apartment he is in and he doesn’t want to leave you guessing.

"Hey." He looks devastating the second he opens his front door, dapper and clean cut in his tuxedo with what looks like a fresh haircut to boot. There is a little less guilt when your stomach flips at the sight of him and you feel a flutter in your chest, but you tell yourself that it's just nerves for the night to come. "Please accept my heartfelt thanks for tonight, in the form of the best muffin you will ever eat," you offer, holding out the bakery box and hoping he hasn't forgotten your little bet.

He tilts his head in confusion for a moment before a slow smile breaks across his face. “We’ll have to see about that.” He vows as he takes the box as gently as it if were a priceless work of art. “You can’t eat mine, but I also picked up a gift for you.” He explains as he sets the box down and picks up the antique velvet box. “I was in this little antique store on Tuesday, and as soon as I saw this, I knew it was made for you.”

"You really didn't have to." Even standing there in the entryway of his little DuPont Circle apartment, the heat in your cheeks spreads all the way down your neck and shoulders instantly. Carefully cracking open the velvet box reveals a stunning circular brooch with the Presidential seal set in gold in the center, surrounded by small but stunning stones that shine either clear or light blue when you turn them to hit the light from different angles. "Marcus, it's stunning."

“I thought it was perfect for tonight.” He explains, overjoyed that you like it. He had talked himself out of giving it to you three different times but then thought that it would be rude not to give you something as thanks for allowing him to take part in such a historic occasion.

"I wish I could wear it tonight." Apologetically, you pluck at your burgundy-colored skirt where it sticks out under the bottom of your coat. The soft blue and deep purple-red would clash entirely. "I'll have to make sure I pick the next dress specifically to match it."

“No, I didn’t expect you to wear it.” Marcus hastily corrects. “I just thought it was appropriate for the occasion.”

"It's wonderful." Though it doesn't keep you from wishing you could, and you slip the jewelry case into your jacket pocket for safe keeping. "Thank you. For the perfect gift and for being my lifesaver tonight."

“I don’t think escorting you to the State dinner is anything like lifesaving.” Marcus jokes. “But I’m here for you.”

"Are you ready to go?" You won't debate with him all the ways that he has very definitely saved your skin from an enormous amount of worry and explanation. Just as long as he knows that you're grateful, that is all that matters.

“Absolutely.” The key fob in his pocket is simply to get into the door and he has left his gun locked in his safe, but his badge is in his breast pocket. He holds out his arm. “Shall we?”

"No time like the present." The offer of his arm is elegant and old fashioned, and the two of you step into the elevator together. Agent Bailey is there waiting, of course, and ushers you back into the car to make sure you get to the White House on time.

Marcus nods politely to the Secret Service agent. “Agent Bailey, nice to see you again.” He murmurs, aware that the woman is working and cannot spend too much time chatting with him.

"Special Agent Pike." She nods back, the acknowledgement appreciated as much as the professionalism. The car that the President sent came complete with a chauffeur so she at least does not have to split her focus between driving and protecting. "We're right on schedule," she tells you both, once everyone is back in the car — then promptly raises the privacy barrier in the sleek town car.

“Well.” Marcus chuckles at the gesture and looks over at you. “We’ve been dismissed.” He jokes and adjusts in the seat slightly so he can talk to you and not crease his jacket. “Should I be offended?”

"Not at all." Although you can see how someone else might think so. "I think she's nervous. The first State dinner is a big deal. We're all a little nervous."

“Everything will be great.” He assures you, resisting the urge to take your hand and squeeze it. “I understand it’s a large undertaking, but security will be on top of their game and everything will move like a perfectly trained team winning a World Series.”

The baseball metaphor makes you smile, and you carefully buckle yourself in just before the car pulls out into traffic. "I think the kinks in the system they're worried about are me and my siblings," you admit ruefully. "Just because we were good on the campaign trail and for the inauguration doesn't mean we will be now, so they're just waiting to see if we all behave."

“I think that you and your siblings want nothing more than to make your mother proud and that is a reflection of her through you.” He observes, having listened to your stories about your brother and sister.

"You have far too much faith in my brother." The small laugh from your lips as you sit back is pure amusement, but he's right. None of you would ever do anything to interrupt so an important night. "Maybe if there wasn't royalty coming tonight. Because Alex is an agent of chaos, but only the good-natured kind."

“What young man isn’t?” Marcus snorts.

"His partner." You chuckle slightly, knowing how calm and collected your brother's boyfriend is by comparison. "Alex isn't out publicly. But he's known his soulmate since they were kids, and David just goes everywhere with him as his inseparable best friend. He'll be at the dinner tonight, too."

“It’s good that he can be with him tonight.” Marcus nods, not even having to say that your brother’s secret is safe with him. He wouldn’t dream of misusing that information.

"David's a sweetheart." He's good for Alex, and an active member of the family just like Sydney is. They were essentially adopted into the fold very early on. "He's going through law school with Alex at Georgetown. Family law, like adoption cases and child welfare. And I really think he's going to be a great lawyer." It's easy with Marcus, you reflect again, watching the streets of DC pass by the window beyond his profile. These are things that you hadn't even told Sam until a month or more into the relationship as you had been very careful about guarding your family's secrets at any cost. With Marcus you just seem to...open up.

“That’s great.” Marcus agrees. “I have a lot of respect for the good lawyers that are trying to make a difference in the world.” Marcus has met a lot of lawyers over his career and he can tell a difference in the ones that are genuinely there for the law and people’s rights and ones that aren’t very scrupulous.

"Then you and David should get along swimmingly." Feeling the nerves in your belly as the car pulls through the busy city streets, you offer him a warm but thin smile. "Sorry if I'm talking a lot," you offer. "That's my way of being nervous."

“Nothing wrong with that.” He assures you. “You talk out all your anxiety and I will listen.” He bites his lip and again is wondering why he has such a strong urge to comfort you and hold you close while you babble.

"Watch out." There's a softness in the way you smile so reflexively that you just sink into it, wishing you could reach for his hand. "Or I just might invite you to more of these things if you're going to be such good company."

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Oh no.” He snorts. “I would hate to be invited to amazingly historical events as a bystander and not work.”

"We'll see how little work you think it is when my family has gotten used to you and you start getting tapped into family debates." You snort right along with him, knowing that if he does come around your family often enough — an idea that you somehow don't hate even one single bit — it will happen fairly quickly. Nobody adopts their kids' friends quite like your parents do, and nobody likes debating as much as your parents, either.

Marcus laughs. “Sounds like dinner time conversation in the Pike household.” He admits, grinning at the memories. “My mother always believed in ‘healthy’ arguments so we debated early on and often. Even if she agreed, she could take the opposite positions just so we could rationalize what the other view would be thinking.”

“Sounds just like my house growing up.” You snort, though, rolling your eyes. “Hell, it sounds like them now, forget then. I had to negotiate my own damn birthday party because debates and negotiation are how everything gets done in my family.”

“Birthday?” He raises his brows and smiles. “You have one coming up?” He asks, wondering how old you will be. He thinks late twenties but he could get wrong, not exactly remembering the whole spiel on the first family during the election cycle.

“Thirty.” When you nod your head it comes with a slight shrug. “Next month. My parents tend to…it’s Mom, mostly. They make a big deal out of birthdays. And personal achievements. And pretty much anything else they consider important in life. It’s part of their philosophy of uplifting their kids, but it can get…heavy.”

“I get feeling that celebrating is great, but sometimes you would just like to do your own thing?” He asks, tilting his head. “Perfect birthday?” He challenges.

He's completely right, but there is a sort of naked and vulnerable feeling to admitting that he understands you so well this quickly that makes your heart skip and your palms sweat — not necessarily both positive feelings. "Sleep late, pancakes for brunch, then a ball game in the afternoon and dinner with my partner. Anything else that happens is extra, but those are the pillars of the perfect birthday." It's a little bit of a pipe dream, all things considered, but you smile nonetheless. "Oh! And cake. Birthdays have to have cake. Even if it's just a cupcake, it's got to be there."

“That sounds perfect.” Marcus groans, nodding. “Well—I have….” He pauses, wondering if he would overstepping boundaries. “I have season tickets for the Nationals, even if they aren’t my team.” He flashes you a grin. “You’d be surprised how many favors I can pull with a pair of tickets, field level.”

“Honestly? I don’t think I would be. A day at the park is kind of the perfect relaxer. To me, at least. Everything lifts away and you can just breathe.” Laughing, despite yourself, that lift is in your chest right now. Wondering if he’s really offering what you hope he’s offering. “I probably sound silly. But I just…I love going to baseball games. It almost doesn’t even matter who’s playing. It’s the experience of going that I love.”

“Eating ballpark dogs, drinking overpriced beer.” Marcus nods. “Have to get a bag of peanuts, it’s a crime not to.”

“I’m a Cracker Jack girl. Always have been.” It’s nostalgic and silly, and being able to just chat without tension has pulled the anxiety away from your bones. “The people around you are in a good mood, the game is fun, and hopefully you get to go with someone you enjoy. It’s the perfect afternoon, or evening, or whenever.”

“Best way to spend a Saturday night in my opinion.” He flashes you a grin. “Quick, tell the driver to drop us off at the Navy Yard.” He jokes. “We’ll go to the game in formal wear.”

“If I hadn’t promised my mother that I would behave, I might take you up in that.” It draws a groan from you, playful and light, and when you glance out the window to find yourselves pulling up to the White House already, you laugh again. “That was a fast drive.”

This time Marcus does reach over and take your hand in reassurance. “You will be wonderful. I’ve seen you around the inn, you’ve got this.” He squeezes gently and lets go. “You have a natural ability to put people at ease.”

“You’re…incredibly sweet.” This time the pang of guilt in your heart isn’t about how handsome his smile is, it’s how much you want to just hold onto his hand and not let go. It’s about how good touching Marcus felt, even for the briefest second. It’s…about the fact that you haven’t technically broken up with Sam yet because he’s been so sick.

“Thanks.” The smile he gives you covers the resounding gong of disappointment in his heart. Reminding him once again that the seemingly perfect woman for him isn’t available. You are dating an up-and-coming congressman and he’s gone out with Vanessa two more times. Both of you agree that it’s a little awkward how close the playing ‘seven degrees’ goes, but that it shouldn’t hamper the two of them from enjoying the other’s company. “That’s me. Sweet.” He tells you with a grin right as the car comes to a stop.

“Sweet is underrated and underappreciated,” you tell him honestly, waiting for the door to be opened and a hand to appear that will help you out in this enormous dress. “More men should be sweet.”

“I guess that’s true.” He snorts, reaching out to help with the back of the dress so you don’t have any mishaps.

The flashbulbs seem unnecessary, but with the help of the man helping ladies from their cars and Marcus with your dress, you pass through the line of new arrivals in no time. The agent at security checks your name off the list and inspects Marcus’s ID closely even after you hand over your invitation that formally lists both your names, but that’s protocol. Next step is the metal detectors and soon enough you’re being escorted to the receiving line. “Ready?” You ask Marcus quietly, knowing this might be the first President he’s ever met and recognizing that for the important occasion that it is to him.

“I am.” Marcus has met many esteemed members of congress and governors, but a president is a new on for the books. “Are you?” He asks, looking over at you earnestly. “Let me know if you need a break and I’ll need to use the bathroom or something.”

“The receiving line is going to be the most daunting part, I think.” There was some back and forth about whether or not your escorts — you being the kids — would stand with you in line but in the end your father made the case that Alex should be able to have David with him so it was all in. “But I’m okay. This is just going to be a lot of smiling politely as you stand between me and my brother. Probably a lot of telling people your job title. Then we’ll get to eat and drink and that will be worth it.”

“Hopefully no one asks if I can fix a parking ticket for them.” He snorts. “It’s kind of concerning how many people think the FBI can influence traffic tickets.”

“If anybody asks that,” you lend him a smile and slip your hand into his arm again. “You just refer them to me. I can’t do anything about it either, but they’ll either feel special or laugh.”

Marcus laughs as you guide him towards the small room where he assumes the family is assembled before the beginning of the dinner.

"There she is!" It's your father who spots you first, pulling you forward and into a tight hug as an attendant nearby takes your coat and Marcus's as well.

"Hi Dad." It's not as if you didn't see them just last night, but really and truly — everyone is nervous. "Everybody, this is Marcus." The ‘be nice’ is implied, but only because you said it explicitly last night. "Marcus, this is...everybody. My Father, my little sister June, my brother Alex, David and his brother Noah, and...of course...my Mother."

“Nice to meet you all.” Marcus doesn’t fawn over your mother, giving them all a warm smile and reaching out with a handshake for them all. “Junie, right?” He asks the younger girl, smiling when she hums and nods. He greets Alex and David by name as well, making your brother shoot you a questioning look before he moves on to your mother and father. “Your daughter has nothing but wonderful things to say about all of you.” He assures your father and then your mother. “Her pride in her family is obvious every time she speaks.”

“Oh Birdie, you didn’t say he was handsome,” you mother teases, knowing you did not say anything about the young man’s appearance one way or the other. He is your type, though, and she wonders in the way a mother does, if there is anything you haven’t told her. “Special Agent Pike, we are very glad to have you here tonight. My daughter has spoken nothing but wonderful things about you as well.”

“Happy to be here.” He admits, wincing slightly. “Although I hate that the congressman is sick.” He mentions Sam so the family knows that he is aware of your relationship status. “When Birdie called, I was happy to do her the favor.” He wonders at the nickname but doesn’t ask, knowing he didn’t hear it during game night, so it must be a family thing.

“Anybody else ready to embarrass me right off the bat?” The nickname is…less than ideal, given that you still haven’t talked to Marcus about your — potentially shared — tattoo, and you try not to flinch. “Dad? Alex? You guys up next?”

“Relax, Slugger.” Your Father flashes a grin even as he steps forward to shake Marcus’s hand. “We have the whole night to mortify you in front of your friend. No need to rush.”

Marcus laughs and feels at ease in the presence of your family. There’s a very happy sense of unity that is rare. “I promise I won’t hold the embarrassing stories against you.” He promises you with a wink.

“Very gracious of you,” you huff, but it’s all toothless. They’re your family, and even though they’re merciless sometimes, you love them. It keeps you all honest.

“I know.” He likes the fact they all chuckle and move back to your side. “Are there any protocols I need to be aware of?” He asks seriously, shifting the conversation back to the dinner. “I do not want to accidentally cause an international incident.”

“The king and queen are your Majesty the first time, and after that it’s sir or ma’am,” your Father explains, silently approving of the question with a glance and smile in your direction while he talks to Marcus. “Other than that, mind your manners and find any of us if you need a rescue. Birdie has your back and so do we.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Marcus nods and looks over at you. “Ready?”

“Mom?” Of course, she calls the shots. And the fact that she’s here in the room with you and not being escorted from the West Wing straight into the dinner is fairly impressive.

“Let’s line up.” She nods, gesturing for Junie and Noah to be first. “Kids in ascending order, and the king and queen will join us in the ballroom.”

Marcus offers you his arm again, wanting to formally escort you to your position, even if he is a supporting player tonight. Of course he will be written about, but he doesn’t focus on that, this is about the President having a wildly successful first State dinner.

"Madam President." The aide that appears looks official and tense, signaling that the night is ready to begin. There is...what would you call him? An announcer? A man in a tuxedo introducing each of you as you enter the room. When it gets to you and Marcus there is an odd sort of haze on the whole thing, and you swear you're trying not to think too hard about how much you like the sound of your names side by side like that. It feels just like when you were in middle school and doodled your name in your notebook next to your crush's.

Marcus straightens slightly and he reaches over and covers the top of your hand with his gently. “It’s kind of surreal.” He admits, whispering to you.

"The inauguration still feels like a fever dream," you murmur back, squeezing his fingers a little to show support. That you completely agree and understand. "Just smile and look like you're having fun and you'll be fine."

“Would it be wrong if I did enjoy myself?” He asks softly, wondering if you really hated events like this. “Maybe if you pretend to be undercover, it will help make it interesting?”

"It wouldn't be wrong." Once you fall into place beside Alex, you take a deep breath and smile — smiling at Marcus is remarkably easy and you decide not to think about it too hard. "These things...the spotlight, I mean?" You whisper to him, making sure not to move your lips too much so anyone watching can't tell what you're saying. "It just makes me nervous. That's all. I'd be glad if you actually enjoyed yourself."

“I only enjoy myself if my partner does.” Marcus leans in to murmur into your ear, explaining his view. “So it’s my duty to make sure you enjoy yourself.”

"I'll try not to make it too hard for you." The feeling of his breath fanning over your neck should be criminal, and it takes everything in you not to shiver and to lift your eyes to meet his instead of shying away. "But I get the feeling you don't shy away from a challenge."

“Never.” He promises. “Not even if it takes all night.”

He can't have meant it as an innuendo, but for the first time all night you're grateful for the voluminous skirts of your dress. No one has any idea that you just squeezed your thighs together wishing it was. "I'll remember that," you hum, turning to pay polite attention when the President is announced entering the ballroom.

Marcus realizes that it could have been taken another way and straightens as quickly as possible. His cheeks burning and he hopes that he didn’t offend you, even though you don’t seem like the type to easily be offended.

"I hope you can dance, G-man." Alex murmurs from Marcus's other side, quiet enough that you can't hear him and sending your escort a knowing smirk. "The girl has princess fantasies a mile wide." He's thrilled to not see Sam but won't say so until he knows the self-centered Congressman is out of the picture entirely. Instead, he'll play his hand quietly from the sidelines.

Marcus hums and glances over at you as you straighten your spine even more as the doors open. “She certainly looks like one.”

"Attaboy." Your brother laughs softly, giving Marcus an approving nod before he, too, straightens out of respect for his mother.

He can’t respond, but he wonders why your brother would say something like that. Only pondering on it for a moment before there are one thousand flashing lightbulbs making halos appear in his vision.

With the receiving line in place, the guests of honor are introduced next, and they make their way down the line with polite interest. So far, they have only met the President and First Gentleman. When they reach you and Marcus, you curtsy and thank god for all those times you watched The Princess Diaries as a kid. You're at least not blanking out on how to be polite to monarchs.

Once the line starts, it seems like it will never end. Marcus shakes hands and recognizes faces, all of it becoming a surreal blur after a bit. Trying to take the time to check in with you, his hand finds your back and he presses gently, offering comfort when he notices that you shift slightly.

If he had any idea his hand was right over your tattoo, he might have felt differently about the gesture. You can’t know for sure, of course. All you do know is that every time he touches you, you want to wilt into his arms like some ancient damsel and there’s no way to logic yourself out of it. There’s no explanation or reasoning beyond wanting him. But — you remind yourself each time you glance up to meet his eyes and silently tell him I’m okay because you’re here supporting me — he’s dating Vanessa. He’s with someone else and this is just a favor for a friend.

Marcus feels guilty, so fucking guilty because he’s absolutely in-tuned to you. He tries to be observant and thoughtful, but unlike with his ex, or even Teresa and Vanessa, it’s so easy with you. It’s like he can sense your emotions and adjust to them. Hating that he wants to see you look at him like he is wonderful every day and not sure why he feels like you should.

By the time the line ends you aren’t just mentally exhausted, you’re hungry to boot. “I have no idea how many people we just met,” you admit in a whisper, when you take his arm again to be escorted to your seats. Your father had smartly separated each of his children to a different table tonight to cut down on potential shenanigans, so you and Marcus have been placed with a few members of your mother’s staff and a few esteemed guests. There are no judges or members of Congress here, so conversation should stay light and entertaining.

“Three hundred and twenty-six.” Marcus supplies as he walks with you to the table. “And I’m absolutely in need of a roll and a drink.”

“You kept count?” It’s impressive and just a dash nerdy, making you reach for the nearest passing waiter to snag two glasses of champagne in appreciation. “Pretty cool that Antonio Banderas and Javier Bardem came, though. I’m bummed Pedro Almodóvar turned down the invitation.”

“I’ve seen some of his works.” Marcus nods. “He’s a good visionary.” He had been impressed with the foreign dignitaries and celebrities alike, finding it to be slightly overwhelming. “It will be interesting to see who is sat with us.”

“He’s remarkable.” The last few things you’ve seen from the Spanish filmmaker were truly moving, and you had happily dragged Sydney and Juan along to the theater with you. “Apparently he’s working on something new. So he couldn’t be here tonight.”

“I think that’s a good reason to not be available to attend.” He murmurs, smiling slightly as you tip back the champagne. His own is still untouched. “Here.” He offers to exchange glasses.

“You said you wanted a drink?” That had been the entire reason for grabbing the glasses early, and you tilt your head at him. “Don’t worry, there’s a five-course dinner to soak it up.”

“Your glass is empty, though.” He insists. “I can wait for the waiter to come around. You’re still thirsty.” He doesn’t mention that you still seem nervous as well.

“Be careful,” you warn, as playfully as you possibly can while your stomach knots at the thought. “If you’re too good at this I’ll want to bring you to every fancy dinner and party.”

He chuckles, knowing that wouldn’t happen because of your relationship with Sam. The congressman will be the one to escort you next time. He exchanges glasses with you with a smile. “There.”

“Come on.” After another grateful sip, you slip your hand back into his arm and feel that gentle lift of tension again, the same way you’ve felt each time he’s touched you tonight. It goes hand in hand with the fire in your belly. “I see my mother’s deputy chief of staff at our table, but he’ll be up and down a dozen times during dinner.”

He wonders if the seating arrangement was made when he wasn’t attending and Sam was. It would make sense and it’s another reminder that he doesn’t actually belong here, with you. “Then you will have time to relax.” He reasons.

“I’ll be okay.” You can promise him that, despite his attention and seeming insistence to the contrary. It’s like he can sense your nerves, but you don’t want him to miss out on any fun because he’s babysitting you all night.

He doesn’t argue with you, aware that you have more experience in these situations than he does, so he just nods. “Are we sitting down now, or can we escape to the bathroom?”

“I think we have a few minutes, if you need it.” There will be speeches and the like before the first course is served, and there is wiggle room to be found. “Do you need me to show you?”

“Would you mind?” He knows you could probably use a breather, even if you don’t want to mention it. There are a lot of people who fawned over you and your siblings simply because of your proximity to the most powerful person in the country and he imagines it’s exhausting.

“It’s this way.” On the edge of the ballroom in an alcove of sorts, with a Secret Service agent whose name is temporarily escaping you standing by in a tuxedo. “I’ll wait for you. This place is a maze if you’re not ready for it. I got lost in the residence for an entire hour on my first day there.”

“That had to be fun.” Marcus snorts, shuffling slightly. “I don’t really have to go.” He admits. “I just thought you might like a moment.”

“You are…remarkably good at taking care of me.” A fact which is slightly disarming, in as much as it is infinitely comforting. The trouble is that it makes you lean into him in a way that seems far too intimate for the moment. But you’ve chosen not to care if you so much as even think about it for a second. “It is…deeply appreciated.”

“I’m glad you don’t find it annoying.” He admits with a small laugh. “My ex sometimes told me it felt like I was undermining her autonomy.” He quotes.

“She objected to being cared for?” That makes you frown instantly, wishing you could reach back in his past and soothe the hurt left by an ungrateful partner. “I can’t imagine that. At all. Hell, half the time if I didn’t have Syd right there in the kitchen to feed me, I would probably forget to eat. Workaholic’s curse, I guess?”

“Oh absolutely.” He nods. “Sometimes the best feeling in the world is just someone calling up and asking if they should bring home dinner, right?” He asks. “That’s all I was trying to do. My dad would be exhausted after work and he’d still call Mom to see if she felt like cooking or if she wanted him to grill something or pick something up.”

“It’s caretaking.” Something you see so deeply in your best friend’s relationship with her soulmate and you have silently started to wish for yourself. Something that you yearn for the way you see it around you. It’s what your parents always strived for, although they sometimes fell short. Their strengths are elsewhere. “I’m…not used to it,” you admit after a pause. “And I appreciate it. Wholeheartedly.”

“Good.” He flashes you a relieved smile. “Although, if you get annoyed or I overstep, you just tell me, okay? I know it’s not my place, that’s Sam’s, but for tonight, you’re in my care.”

“It’s—” You have to swallow the objection, knowing that it wouldn’t be right to tell Marcus before you even tell Sam what your plans are. And while the impulse to confide in him is deep, you have to wonder if it’s because you might have that soulmate connection, or just because you have a crush. “Just for tonight,” you offer instead, choosing to embrace that with open arms.

He nods and tries not to read anything into it. Hating how he hopes that is longing in your eyes. It’s not fair and he smiles. “Do you need to powder your nose?” He asks teasingly.

“I might as well.” Glancing around, there are eyes everywhere and you know they’re watching. Plus, it would probably do you well to step away from Marcus for a second and calm the fuck down. “Someone is probably watching and it will get remarked on in some gossip column if neither of us does.”

“I can step inside the bathroom then, after you go into the women’s room.” Marcus offers, not wanting to put your reputation on the line.

"If nothing else we should probably wash our hands after that receiving line," you offer, trying to diffuse any tension that surely lives only in your head. "I'll be right back."

“Good call.” He flashes you a smile and waits for you to disappear into the bathroom before stepping into the men’s room. “Get it together, Pike.” He huffs to himself as he stares into the mirror. He had shaved right before you arrived and had gotten a haircut this morning to make sure he looked his best. “You gotta get over this little thing.”

A mere ten feet away, you're staring yourself in the mirror giving yourself almost an identical short, stern lecture and shaking your head. This thing is going to get out of hand. And maybe you can't rein it in completely, but you have to at least behave your damn self until you can properly break up with Sam. Marcus washes his hands and dries them, straightening his bow tie before he steps out of the bathroom to wait for you.

"Let's go back to the table." You appear only a minute later, having lectured yourself silently in the mirror long enough and washed your hands thoroughly for good measure. "My father played with the seating chart a little so there would be some people at the table for you to talk about art with."

“That will be fun.” He doesn’t mean that sarcastically, aware that he learns odd facts and titbits about art.

"Hopefully you mean that." Lending him a smile, you nod your head and put out your hand to him. It's an offering if he wants to take it, and if he doesn't that's okay too. It will probably help you chill the fuck out to have a small gesture rejected, if you're honest with yourself.

He doesn’t think you want to hold his hand, so Marcus takes it, squeezing it gently and then wrapping it over his extended arm. “I get to be formal tonight.” He jokes, sending you a small wink.

In absolutely no way is that a rejection, and your cheeks burn as you absorb that small gesture and walk with him back to the table. You manage to sit just as the speeches are beginning, and survey the table for anyone you recognize while everyone is paying rapt attention to the stage.

Josh, your mother's Deputy Chief of Staff, is seated to your left. Guests you recognize as being staff members at the Spanish embassy are seated on his other side. Beside them are the counselors from the State department who are apparently staples on the White House guest list and have been for the last eight years. You have no idea who they are beyond that, and the random detail that your father mentioned they are foodies. Which makes sense, as they are seated next to famous chef José Andrés and his wife. Considering they are seated next to Marcus, you must deduce that these are the art lovers your father was so glad to introduce to your new escort.

Marcus makes note of the exits, the Secret Service positioned strategically and for a brief moment wonders what it would be like to protect someone like this. He doesn’t know if he has the fortitude for it, becoming emotionally attached to the people he works with. It’s what made him an effective leader but also would make him a poor protector as a career. He glances back at the podium and listens carefully.

The speeches are...a bit endless. After what must be thirty full minutes of gratitude and platitude, well written jokes that are mostly poorly delivered, and even a few self-deprecating cracks, all the speakers seem finally to be done and the waiters pour out of the woodwork with the first course. Every course is influenced by your Spanish visitors and the menu is printed out neatly on a card at every seat, which you know very well you will be keeping in a stack in a shoebox in your apartment as the best keepsake from every single White House event.

“It looks delicious.”

Marcus smiles at the woman who speaks up as the plate is sat in front of her. “I can only imagine the chaos that is occurring in the kitchen.” Marcus replies. “They have been working hard and it shows.”

"Every meal I have ever had from that kitchen has been exemplary," you promise them, knowing that you are currently the table expert on the quality of the White House kitchen. "The whole menu sounds very promising." Gazpacho with garlic shrimp for the first course, and the traditional Spanish tomato soup is garnished with lovely bits of the fresh vegetables that make up the refreshingly cold puree.

“And that is saying something, considering her best friend and business partner is a culinary artist.” Marcus brags. “She eats fantastically every day.”

"Oh?" That catches the attention of the chef sitting two seats over from Marcus. He and his wife both perk up measurably to find those who love food nearby. "Please say more," he chuckles.

"I...run an inn." Apparently you're going to spend at least part of tonight chatting with a world-renowned chef that Sydney is going to be so mad she missed this. "And my best friend is the executive chef of the restaurant on property." The chance to brag on her behalf will absolutely not escape you. "She was just nominated for a James Beard Award, actually. She's absolutely remarkable."

“I can attest to that.” Marcus seconds as he picks up his spoon. “Her food is absolutely incredible. I’ve not had such good food since I was actually in Italy. And it might be better.” He boasts. This is his friend’s wife and better yet, he’s not stretching the truth. Her food is that good.

“Better than in Italy?” Chef Andrés’ eyebrow raises in discerning interest. “We may have to visit. If it is possible?”

“Possible?” You almost choke on air at the request, but manage to hold your composure long enough to nod in a reasonably human manner. “We will make sure that it is possible. It would be an honor.”

“You won’t regret it.” Marcus promises. “You should honestly book a night at the inn. Their brunch is probably my favorite but their dinners are amazing as well.”

“You should hire your boyfriend to do your PR,” Andrés teases, the smile on his lips stretching wider when his wife rolls her eyes in amusement. “If it is as good as you say, I must try it, yes? Bring my wife?”

Marcus chuckles, hating how he almost perks up at being called your boyfriend. “I’m afraid that I’m just a friend.” He explains with a smile. “But I know good food and a charming, romantic atmosphere when I see one.” He tells him. “You take your wife for a weekend and she will be singing your praises.”

The two guests beside him seem to tut at Marcus’s correction but say nothing else on the topic, instead beginning to eat along with the rest of the table after you delicately pass them a business card from your clutch.

“So what is it that you do?” The chef’s wife asks, glancing at Marcus.

“Oh.” He’s a little thrown off by the question but he smiles. “I’m the head of the Art Crimes department for the FBI.” He explains. “We investigate thefts, forgery rings and work with Interpol.”

“How fascinating!” Her eyes light up with the declaration. It obviously isn’t a polite interest, which is nice for utter strangers seated next to each other at dinner. “To investigate these forgeries you must be very well versed in all sorts of art.”

“I have learned my fair share and the some about art.” Marcus admits with a chuckle. “Honestly, sculpture is my favorite. Although there are not a lot of forgeries in that area.”

“I imagine it would be much harder to accomplish,” she agrees, seeming to consider the thought before going on. “Do you create art as well? Or stick to protecting it?”

“I am a phenomenally bad artist.” Marcus snorts and laughs at himself. “Stick figure bad. So I try to just protect the art created by others.”

“I bet you’re better than you think.” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, but you just can’t imagine that Marcus Pike is bad at…well…anything. He seems to radiate positivity and confidence.

Marcus sends you a warm, amused look, positively happy that you would try to protest that. “I’m afraid that my fingers are only good for playing instruments.”

Tutting and rolling your eyes playfully, you nearly huff at him but end up grinning. “You say that as if it’s deficient in some way. Playing an instrument is extraordinary.”

“Three.” He admits with a grin.

“Three?” Your jaw nearly drops out of indignation, as though he were keeping something from you. Which is patently ridiculous. “I only knew about one!”

He bites his lip playfully. “Guitar, bass and….” He snickers quietly. “Violin.”

“No.” When you nearly erupt into giggles you have to stifle it behind your napkin. “That’s discipline! Or did you decide it wasn’t cool enough and that’s why you picked up guitar and bass?”

“Actually….” He shrugs. “There was a girl.” He can look back and laugh now. “She didn’t think playing guitar or bass was ‘real music’ so I made a bet that if I could perform Bach’s Violin Concerto in E Major, she would go out on a date with me.”

The rest of the table has faded into the background, with a hall of focus encompassing you and Marcus entirely. You’re not sure when it happened but everyone else just became a smiling face and white noise compared to the man next to you. “Please tell me it worked. That would be a shame if it didn’t work.”

There’s a flash of something bittersweet, there and gone before most can even register it as Marcus nods. “We were married for three and a half years.” He looks around the table and grins, trying to make sure no one feels sorry for him. “Think that was a good play.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment floods your system immediately and your cheeks burn with it. “It…was your wife. Of course it was your wife. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—that was thoughtless of me.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Marcus is adamant about that, reaching over and patting your hand. “I admire your stance on non-soulmate relationships.” He admits. “Even if my ex wasn’t my soulmate, she’s a wonderful woman and I grew in our relationship together. More people could use that.”

“It’s just that I think everyone should be able to choose,” you admit, having been struggling with the topic as much as you have recently. “This idea of only having one perfect match chosen for you? It doesn’t mean it’s the only way to be happy. My parents are soulmates, my brother has a soulmate, our friends are soulmates — I’m happy for all of them. But not finding your one preordained needle in the haystack of the world shouldn’t mean you don’t get a shot at happiness.”

“No,” Marcus agrees. “Happiness shouldn’t be tied to one person or one thing.” He longs for his soulmate, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t open himself up for others.

“That’s all.” There is no show to put in here. No soapbox to stand on. It isn’t a campaign event or even an interview. It’s just talking — and talking to someone you suspect more and more might be the needle you were meant to search for. “I would love to meet my soulmate,” you admit after another moment. “But I want it to be my choice to love them, not the world’s.”

“If it weren’t for the tattoo, I would wonder if my soulmate existed.” Marcus admits. “The scars, I can’t even remember whose is whose, but…my soulmate doesn’t want to be found and I will respect that.”

“What would make you think they do want to be found?” The idea that whoever is tied to Marcus wouldn’t want to be found by him seems ridiculous now that you know him. But you know that’s personal bias.

“Never been on Mate Marks.” Marcus shrugs. “Not once. Just figured they aren’t interested.”

“Not everyone can be on Mate Marks.” You remind him gently, but deflect right away. “Maybe she’s a movie star.”

“Maybe.” It hurts him in a very raw way so he changes the subject. “Perhaps there’s supposed to be some kind of dramatic meet cute.” He shrugs, turning towards the Chef and his wife. “How did you two meet?”

“She was hanging out with her friends.” Andrés regards his wife with a warm smile. “At my restaurant. Many, many years ago. But I could not take my eyes from her once I saw her. I was—” He pauses for a moment, searching for the word, and then grins when he finds it. “A goner. For such beauty, how could I not be?”

“Love at first sight.” Marcus hums at the romanticism and whimsy of it. “You are a lucky man.” He admits. “There is something so beautiful about that.”

“There are many beautiful ways to fall in love.” The chef contends with a shrug, as if to say any love is good. And he does have a point. “Sometimes the one best suited to us is directly under our nose, sometimes they are a surprise. But always, they are worth finding.”

“Love is always worth it.” On that, Marcus can completely agree. “I’ll drink to that.” His champagne glass has been swapped for a new one and he holds it up. “To love, in all forms.” He offers. “The world is better for it.”

“Here here.” On your other side, Josh raises his glass and the rest of the table follows suit, all of you drinking a toast while your mind begins to work.

Marcus takes a sip, noticing that you look introspective and he wonders if you are thinking about Sam. Instead of prying, he sets his drink down and takes up his spoon again, listening to the conversation start around the table again and this time, it’s not focused on him.

The courses go by like clockwork. Every bite is delicious, every sip of accompanying wine is refreshing. Conversation becomes easy with the rest of the table and as all the guests relax the atmosphere becomes more and more party-like.

Watching your mother begin the dancing with a king is something entirely surreal. There’s something sort of spectacular about seeing this woman that you know as everything from determined to downright silly getting up there and whirling like she hasn’t a care in the world. She glows in that spotlight, soaking it up and radiating the same appreciation back out to the rest of the room — but she only gets brighter when the song changes and your father steps up to take her hand for the next dance.

Marcus watches the First Gentleman bow slightly, the grin on his face making him look years younger and there’s a moment where Marcus is envious. He wants a life like that, a life like his parents have. Love is love and he appreciates that, but he wants love. Vanessa isn’t in love with him, and he’s not in love with her. Not in a way that would have him picking out wedding venues with her. They have companionship and fun. He gets the feeling that she’s trying to get over someone and that’s okay, but he wants to have someone light up when they see him like the President just did for her husband of over thirty years.

As other couples start to join in, you see your siblings join the dance floor — probably to gossip, that's in keeping with a tradition they started when your mother was Governor of Pennsylvania — and your hand twitches on the table wishing you were brave enough to just reach for Marcus like you want to. To find out if he dances as well as you've dreamt that he does. Because that thought has permeated every single dream you've had this week.

It must be a tradition to have the entire first family on the floor and Marcus decides that you won’t break it. He stands and offers you his hand as he moves around the chair. “Shall we join them?”

A shaky breath passes your lips, but your hand settles in his before you can second guess yourself. You want to dance with him and you can dance with him. It isn't overstepping or cheating or anything of the sort. "I promise not to step on your toes," you murmur, not bothering to temper the brightness of your smile. Though that is partially because you really can't feel how much you're glowing in this moment. It's not something you've ever felt before — not like this, at least.

“I have a feeling you are a better dancer than me.” He guides you to the edge of the floor with quiet pride and bows.

"It's just practice." The smile of assurance on your face as the do the formal thing and curtsy never flickers. You take his hand and let him guide you to the floor, knowing that it isn't necessary here for most people to learn ballroom dance. No one is expecting a perfect tango out of the couples on this floor. As long as you and Marcus can make your way around the floor in a reasonable facsimile of a dance, all will be well. "Haven't you seen Sabrina? Just pretend you're David Larrabee."

Marcus smiles as he steps close and settles his hand on your waist. “Did I mention my father insisted that I learn to dance?” He asks as he starts to move to the song. “Dancing helps coordination.”

"How could I possibly be a better dancer than you now?" Have you had lessons? Sure. Of course you have. All three of the First Kids of Pennsylvania took them so as not to embarrass their parents at formal events. But all that knowledge seems to leave you in a flash with Marcus holding you close like this. You're pretty sure you even forget how to breathe for a second. "Is there anything you can't do? And don't say art, because I still don't believe you."

“It’s really bad.” He promises with a laugh. “I never graduated beyond first grade stick figures.”

"Well..." As the two of you begin to turn in time with the music, the breath returns to you only to be whisked away again with every turn. "Your dancing is..." With your cheeks burning again, you feel like you can barely look him in the eye. "It's top notch, I promise."

“Then the lessons paid off.” Marcus laughs. “Dad said they would. Didn’t believe it when I was seven, but now I see the light.”

“If I ever meet your Dad, remind me to thank him.” Whoever the couples around you are, whatever the band is playing, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Everything about this moment is perfect, and there really is no talking yourself out of it at this point — this crush you have on Marcus Pike is officially out of hand.

He smiles and nods, no comment needed as he sweeps you around the dance floor and he tightens his grip on you. “Hold on.” He warns, right before he dips you low.

A collective gasp from the room full of spectators is followed by titters of laughter and exclamations then punctuated by applause, but you are holding on. You’re holding on to Marcus with an iron grip on his shoulders, laughing in your own right but it’s disbelief and a sort of bubbling giddiness that you can’t quite describe. It’s all-consuming just like your focus on him, so much so that you don’t even notice the flashbulbs going off in the ballroom.

It’s been a long damn time since he could say that he has had this much fun dancing. You are a great partner, seeming to fit into his arms perfectly. Moving with him naturally and his matching grin when he pulls you upright is beaming.

“I—” What can you really say? If you weren’t in a room full of people and if you weren’t still technically in a relationship, that’s the kind of move that would have you reaching up to kiss him in a heartbeat. As it is, you barely manage to stop yourself from licking your lips a little at the thought. His eyes and his smile are brilliantly bright and you wish you could just let your pounding heart speak for itself. But all that comes out as he starts to whirl with you again is “Wow.”

“You like that?” He asks, even though his tone makes it clear he is aware of your astonishment and delight. “Figured you needed a moment where you can look back and pretend that you were the princess at the royal ball.” He jokes. “The glass slippers are in another room though.”

“You’re never getting out of this,” you tease, feeling the burning in your cheeks even as you get your footing back, and with your eyes still locked in Marcus. “Four more years of these things if you’re going to dance with me like that. Get ready, Pike.”

He could tell you that he would gladly dance with you, but he doesn’t. He just laughs and steps away so he can twirl you around.

All it does, besides give you that feeling again of being a princess floating on air, is seal how doomed you really are in your mind. When your twirl back into Marcus’s arms, you swear you actually sigh outright. It’s all just too dreamy and you’re forever in Sydney’s debt for making you ask him.

The song is quickly coming to an end, and Marcus is aware there are too many speculative eyes on the two of you, so he doesn't spin you or dip you again. He doesn't want to cause issues with Sam, just enjoying the dance with you and got a little carried away. His mother would accuse him of subconsciously showing off and that might be true, but he brings you to a stop when the music ends and hates that he hates when his hands slide away from you so he can clap politely. "Sorry." He hums as you both clap. "Got a little carried away."

“You never need to apologize for having fun.” You assure him, knowing that you certainly aren’t sorry for your part in it.

"I'm sure the press corps absolutely loved it." Marcus laughs. "At least your Agent Bailey didn't think I was attacking you. That would have been mortifying, being tackled to the floor for dipping you." It's a joke, not particularly a good one, but he needs to get over this feeling of rightness. To distract himself from the want of pulling you close and pressing his lips to your stained ones. Obviously he needs to not do that and corny jokes puts a little distance from him and that thought.

“Don’t let Bailey fool you. She’s a softie.” The other half of that thought is that she would never mistake a romantic gesture, but it’s just wishful thinking to one dance to be a romantic interlude.

The music has a thirty second delay to allow dancers to join or exit the floor and in that time, Alex comes up to the pair of you. "May I cut in?" He asks, standing beside Junie and David's brother that Marcus hadn't caught his name. "David doesn't want to dance, for obvious reasons."

“The reason is his two left feet,” you tell Marcus with a knowing grin. “I’ll be right back. Unless everyone mobs you for a dance after what they saw you can do.”

"I'll dance with him." Junie offers with a matching grin towards her sister. She hadn't missed the dreamy look in your eyes and wants to see if it was because of the dance or the man. "If you don't mind?"

Marcus shakes his head and looks towards her date for the evening. "May I?" It might me a little archaic, since Junie has full autonomy over who she dances with, but it was polite manners who ask the escort for their blessing and Marcus was nothing if not polite.

“Go for it,” Noah’s answering nod is easygoing, and he has to admit he’s curious too. There is speculation amongst them now and he wants to know what Junie has to say after dancing with him.

Marcus offers his hand to Junie, bowing just like he had with you before sweeping the younger girl into his arms. "Your escort is a friend?" He asks, curious since he looks so much like David.

“Pretty much family at this point,” Junie confirms, taking the elegant bow to mean that she should attempt a curtsy just before she gets pulled into the dance. She wobbles a little but makes it. “He’s Alex — our brother’s — best friend’s little brother.” Not being sure how much you may have told FBI Marcus Pike about Alex or the family, she carefully doesn’t say more. “So we’ve known each other a long time.”

"It's a shame that David has a case of the left feet." Marcus glances over at the table where the law student is passionately talking to a judge that had been seated with them. "Hopefully Noah is not the same?" He admires the protectiveness of the younger girl's tone and approves of it wholeheartedly. You protect family and that’s something special amongst siblings.

“Not at all. That’s why he’s here.” She laughs at that, realizing it’s silly, but doesn’t quite care. “We all had to have someone with us for this one, and I’m not much for the dating scene so Noah gave me a rescue. He’s basically my other brother.” The steps are easy enough to be led through, or else Marcus Pike is a very good lead, and June turns with him a few times before she starts thinking that smile on her big sister’s face was about the dance as much as the man. He’s good, but he’s not Fred Astaire, so it has to be a combination.

"Very nice of him." Of course there would be a million different selfish reasons why he would want to come, but it's also a very nice gesture. "Friends that are family are the best." He agrees.

“Firmly agree.” June nods with authority, holding on tight as Marcus turns her around in the dance. She can see why you liked this so much — those fairy tale fantasies you think are secret must have loved being twirled around a ballroom.

There is a moment where Marcus could dip June, but he doesn't. He knows that people are speculating and he keeps a respectable amount of distance between him and your younger sister. Knowing that it could be taken out of context if someone really wanted to stir up trouble. He does spin her though, making her laugh as he pulls her out of it.

“Oh, you’re going to get yourself invited to all of these,” she laughs. It’s a little archaic in her opinion, but a pretty face with good manners and talented dancing shoes is like an endangered species at these things. Especially one who passes the background checks. “Did Birdie tell you about her birthday yet?”

"She did." Marcus laughs. "Talked about having to negotiate." He wonders at the nickname again and glances over to where you and Alex are dancing and laughing together. "Where did the nickname Birdie come from?" He asks. "I've only heard family use it."

“She was a giant ornithology nerd when she was a kid,” June explains easily, not thinking any of the question. “Bird feeders everywhere in the backyard of the house in Philly. There’s a bunch at the inn, too. She even got a bird tattoo when she was old enough. Mom freaked out.”

Marcus doesn’t stiffen, which is a credit to his undercover training. But he’s instantly on alert. You have hummingbird feeders at the inn. “Oh?” He manages to keep his tone causally interested. “What type of bird?”

“It’s this hummingbird and flowers design that she got on her back.” June shrugs again, even in the dance. “Why would you get a tattoo on your back where you can’t see it? That never made any sense to me.”

“On her shoulder?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. “Shoulder tattoos are pretty popular. You can show them off or cover them up.”

June snorts, lowering her voice. “Who even gets a tramp stamp anymore? Her shoulder would have been way better.”

It’s like the world fucking stops when he hears June’s confirmation of what he had suspected. You are his soulmate. The undeniable attraction and need to be around you is suddenly explain. Though, you had to have known, and worse, you kept it a secret. Marcus feels his heart clench, although he smiles and chuckles at the horror on the younger girl’s face. “Easy to conceal.” He offers, making it seem like his whole world hasn’t shifted off its axis. He’s hurt, deeply, but he cannot make a scene - nor would he.

The song ends either in the nick of time or far too soon, and a Junie thanks Marcus for the dance before trotting off to disappear into the crowd and out of sight. This is a very easy room to disappear in, after all.

Marcus needs a drink, but he waits on the side of the dance floor as Alex brings you over. “Nice dance?” He asks.

“Nice enough.” Alex had talked your ear off about something David said at dinner and then asked a million questions about Marcus, so you’re feeling a little warm in the cheeks and a little knotted in your stomach. “You?”

“Absolutely.” He paints a smile on his face and offers his arm as he turns you from the dance floor. “Your sister is a charming young woman.” He compliments. “I need a drink, how about you?”

“Please.” What you need is courage, after talking to Alex, and a drink is that in liquid form. “And…I wanted to ask you something? If that’s okay.”

“Your sister has already warned me I will the attending these from now on.” Marcus jokes, although he’s not sure he would want to attend. To know that you were aware of the potential soulmate connection and not breathing a word of it hurts in a way he cannot describe. Especially after the conversations you’ve had about choices. You’ve taken his own choice away from him in a sense.

“Yeah…” A huff of a laugh comes out of you, and you take Marcus’s arm to walk away from the dance floor but it isn’t as relaxed as before. You have to wonder if more of this sounds that terrible to him. Or more of you? “Dad said that any friend we have who was a good dancer was going to end up on all the invitation lists by default.”

“Of course.” A subtle, slapping reminder of what he is to you goes a long way to not saying something. The bar is thankfully devoid of too many people and he quickly looks towards you. “What will you have?” He asks politely.

“A Manhattan with Statesman?” You glance over at the bartender and he nods and sets to work. Asking Mar is what you want to ask is so loaded and terrifying that you really are going to need that courage.

“And I’ll have a triple Statesman on the rocks.” Marcus adds, knowing that a double won’t be enough.

"Was Junie really that bad?" you tease. But if the answer is yes you'll be furious.

“No, she was wonderful.” Marcus assures you. “Nothing to worry about at all.”

“I wondered if I could ask you something?” You’re practically shaking in your heels, but you may never get the courage to ask again and short of straight out asking to see his tattoo, this is the next best thing for confirmation. “At dinner you said you have scars? Yours and your soulmate’s and you’ve sort of forgotten whose is whose?”

“Yeah?” There’s no way you can know how the casual question rips him apart but he shrugs slightly and tilts his head curiously at you. “They are old.”

“Like from when you were a kid?” The ache in your chest is undeniable, wanting so badly for him to confirm things for you. The scar from when your appendicitis operation is fairly unique. The surgeon must have desperately needed new glasses or worse.

“I know the scar right here is from my soulmate.” He points to his side and shrugs. “Assuming their appendix burst or something.”

The smallest breeze in the world could knock you over right now. A single breath would be enough, but neither you nor Marcus seems to be breathing at the moment. The only noise between you is the pounding of blood in your ears and the dull thud of two glasses hitting the bar beside you which knocks you out of your trance. “Appendicitis sucks,” you manage to murmur ineloquently, and rummage frantically for a tip in your clutch.

“I’ve never had it, so at least there’s not a double scar.” Marcus hums, watching you search through your bag. “I’ve got it.” He promises, reaching to his wallet and pulling out a bill.

“Thank you.” Even a few seconds to shut your eyes and take a drink isn’t enough to steady you, but you have to fake it. Right now you’re shaking like a leaf. “Soulmates are…they’re interesting…” you manage, trying your best not to just burst out with it in the spot. You have to break up with Sam first, you tell yourself over and over.

“Sometimes.” Marcus agrees, wondering why you are talking about this now. Is it to rub it in? To test him? He picks up his drink and takes a sip.

“I’m sorry.” Taking your drink away from the bar, concentrating on not spilling it will help you not shiver or shake as much, but you still shake your head. “I guess I’m…distracted. And that’s not fair to you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Marcus promises you softly, wondering why you are having such an extreme reaction right now. Like you are having an internal crisis. “I’m here for you.”

“You can’t possibly know how much that means to me.” And how much it makes you ache in turn. How much you wish he would be there for you as a partner. As a lover. But he might not even want you. Just because you’re soulmates — there it is, you’ve admitted it to yourself — doesn’t mean he will choose to be with you. He might be ecstatically happy with Vanessa.

He smiles and takes another sip of his drink, honestly unsure of what to say right now. Taking a drink seems like the safest option and he wishes he were brave enough to down the smooth whiskey in one belt and order another.

There really was a solid chance that you would be able to keep your head on straight but then you looked at him again. The way your resolve crumbles in the face of those big, brown puppy eyes is laughable. “I decided I’m breaking up with Sam,” you blurt out, instantly squeezing your eyes shut and berating yourself internally for it.

He’s nearly spitting his whiskey out when you say that, choking slightly and coughing. “I— I’m sorry.” He murmurs, patting himself on the chest. “I hope that it’s not because I came with you to the dinner?”

“What! No. No…I—” You can’t say it has nothing to do with him because that’s a lie. Meeting Marcus was the catalyst that led you to the decision. Meeting Marcus has been tumultuous and eye opening. “The decision has been coming for a little while, I think.”

“Okay.” He is relieved about that. “The last thing I wanted was to cause issues with you and the congressman.”

“And I don’t want to cause any between you and Vanessa.” As much as you may wish he wasn’t seeing her, it isn’t for you to decide. His life is his choice, entirely and completely.

It’s interesting that you would say that. Considering that he’s never said anything beyond inviting you to dinner. “You won’t.” He promises.

“Right.” The confidence he says it with makes you feel utterly small, and you force yourself to laugh just so you don’t say anything else stupid. “Of course not. That was a silly thing to say.”

“It’s not silly.” Marcus doesn’t like the way you seem to deflate slightly. “I just mean we are all adults.”

“Yes. We definitely are.” The way it stings your heart is very real, but this is not the time or the place to feel that feelings in its entirety. Instead, you remind yourself to smile and calmly sip your drink.

It feels like the night has gone sideways for multiple reasons and Marcus isn’t sure why. He finishes his drink and looks over at you. “Need another?”

“I’d rather dance again,” you admit. But it’s partially because you know you shouldn’t have too much to drink. That wouldn’t be a good look when so many eyes are on you.

“Then let’s dance.” He sets his empty glass down and offers his hand to you again.

______

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[andiftheycare]

AU where Suguru’s an overworked salaryman and Satoru keeps stealing his umbrellas as a bad attempt at flirting.

Or the you swan he frog meme but make it a fic

☂️ Part one here, and also on twt

☂️ Part two point one here, and on twt. Part two point two here.

Notes: I resisted posting this bit because I wanted one scene TM to be part of this update. However, this is now 2k so it's too long for a tumblr post so the scene I wanted will be in the next update (I'll try to update every Sunday moving forward!). More romancing and more umbrellas to come. If you like this and you'd like to be friends do interact!! let's be friends!! also as usual it's highly unedited etc will be edited once it's on AO3.

Tags to be aware of: AU, squint and it’s a reincarnation au (more on this soon), office AU, pals I think this will be tagged "Mature" for part 5 :D

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

“Are you looking for a date?” 

Mimiko sits in front of him, hands clasped on the table, while Nanako nods next to her, posture more lax but expression less open. Suguru is hit by the memory of his parents sitting him down and trying to convince him to attend a couple of omiai.

The picture’s so close it makes him smile. 

“We know, like, you’re not old old.” Nanako says, heavily implying Suguru’s next to pension age. “And we talked about it.”

“You… talked about it?”

They exchange a glance. Brief. Quick. Suguru knows what it means when they team up like that. They’re up to mischief. 

“We made a list of people you could date.” Nanako continued, opening her notes app but not showing her screen. “Because you can do better than that—“

“Put that on your umbrella,” Mimiko concludes, palms now open, legs uncrossed. “It’s very…”

Where Mimiko aims, Nanako shoots “Lame.”

Drop dead silence follows, while Suguru struggles, briefly, to connect the dots, until his most recent sticker comes to mind, and he thinks that idiot. Printing shit like that and having his way with Suguru’s possessions. 

“I’m not interested in dating,” Suguru explains, well knowing he’s losing so many points in the eyes of his once doting daughters “It’s to deter criminals from —“

“You know, most of my friends think you’re hot.” Nanako grits that through her teeth, disgust seething from her words. She moves a hand around her face, then “They’d steal your umbrella just to find in you the love of their life.”

“That’s… concerning.”

Mimiko nods. “We don’t want to pressure you, but we thought…”

“If you’re not, like, finding someone because…”

Another glare is exchanged. This time they slightly bow their heads, and Suguru straightens up on his chair, offers them a smile but doesn’t reach to caress their heads. They don’t like that anymore. 

“It’s not because of you.” 

The twins’ shoulders reflexively drop.

“Now, have you finished packing?”

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

The flat is eerily quiet for the rest of the weekend. Mostly, Suguru spends it catching up on some sleep, trying to ignore how tense he feels, how tired he still is after he wakes up in the afternoon to an empty stomach.

Despite the spasming requests of his body, though, he can’t seem to keep anything in, the nausea coaxing him into fasting after a few bites of anything that isn’t plain. 

Suguru doesn’t mind it. 

That’s part of his summer routine, getting asphyxiated by the city heat so much to the point his body rejects nourishment. He’ll get over it soon. 

What’s new it’s the lingering taste of rotten food he awakens to in the morning. It’s worse when he dreams, which is happening with unexpected frequency, and which leaves him in a bizarre state of nostalgia, despite Geto not remembering much of it.

So he sits on the floor of his living room on Saturday night, an untouched open beer in front of him - admittedly, a bad idea - and a couple of texts from Mimiko and Nanako, going through the basic yeah we arrived safely, grandad’s fine but grandma says he needs to get his eyes checked, connection’s terrible as usual.

Have fun, Geto types back, and saves for himself the promises he can’t keep, like, I’ll come with you next year, or I’ll make it to the summer festival next weekend.

Mimiko and Nanako spend most of their summer holidays with their grandparents in the house where Suguru grew up. It’s near where the twins were born, too, so they can visit their parents’ grave and enjoy those seasonal friendships that last less than a month, but seem to revamp with the same strength every time they are reunited. Mostly, they can have someone around rather than rot in their city flat, and enjoy some breeze and fresh watermelon and nights full of stars.

Suguru hasn’t been back in years. Not properly, anyway. The summer’s also one of his busiest times at work.

His phone lights up — 

stuck at the airport 

It’s so boring 

Send help

— and he watches the succession of texts populating his screen. 

After unlocking it, Suguru’s also met with a selfie of Gojo resting his chin on his hand, disgust written all over his face, shades resting on the top of his nose.

They canceled my flight

I can’t do anything about it

Can you, like, come and pick me up?

Gojo sends his location. He’s pinned somewhere far south. 

On what, a giant flying dragon?

Do you have one? 

Don’t be ridiculous 

Suguru takes a sip while Gojo types. The electric fan on the tatami barely moves hot air around him. There’s a memory that isn’t his in his mind, of a younger Gojo lying in front of a fan, moaning, asking Suguru to make it stop, use your weather curse or something, please, Suguru, please and Geto frowns at his fan, at the phone and the open can and then the memory is gone. The absence in the room takes roots in him. 

(“Take off your clothes. That’ll make you feel better.”

“Take them off me yourself, you coward.”)

So short fun story which isn’t neither short nor fun is I’m here for a work gig and there’s a storm

Can’t book a hotel because they’re all full 

Can’t go home because now home is terminal 5

Not thinking, Suguru calls him. If he they have to keep texting, he might as well —

“Satoru.”

“Suguru?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

A breath. Another one. How close is his phone to his mouth? “Well, if this isn’t a fun development.”

“It’s just a phone call.”

“Suguru.”

“Uhm?”

“So are we on a first name basis now?”

Suguru hangs up. Gojo sends him a voice note that’s just him laughing, then video calls him. Suguru should probably take that as a cue to go to sleep at a normal hour, instead of entertaining the maniac on the other side of the country.

“What?” Gojo prods closer to the camera as if that could get him closer to Geto. “Are those earrings?”

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

Nothing gets stolen on Monday. There are now two evil curses protecting his umbrella, on top of the Omamori. 

Maybe that’s the answer. The blessing doesn’t have to counterbalance evil energy; it has to be outnumbered by it. Maybe his grandma would’ve had an opinion on that power imbalance, too.

Yuki, for sure, has one “Oh, are you looking for a special someone?”

She catches him as they enter the building and he’s closing the umbrella, “Or are you craving crab?”

Politely, Suguru smiles at her as they walk to the elevator “You never told me what’s your type.”

“Because that’s unprofessional to ask.”

They press the floor button on the elevator. Yuki leans on the mirror, folding her arms “Well, you know how it is. They keep denying that promotion because you don’t have a family.”

Geto likes Yuki. In the measure where you can like your manager and work well with them and respect the trajectory of their careers. And he knows she’s right, that having two children helped him immensely in progressing, that getting a partner would grant him access to better insurance, a better job, because if you have to provide for a family, then, you need more money. They’re a traditional company after all.

And Geto isn’t old. But when he’ll be in his thirties, he’ll get pushed into marriage by the higher-ups. Those are the rules. Yuki is, once again, doing the company’s bids. 

And she’s right. Geto hates her for it. 

“You aren’t married either.”

“I’m a woman,” Yuki says, the elevator going up and up “I wouldn’t be here if I was.”

Geto shakes his head. “How’s that fair?”

A grin. “Get a wife already.”

The doors open. “You sound like my dad.”

“I’ll set you up.”

“Now you sound like my mum.”

“Smart woman.”

Suguru lets the conversation go as he mostly does when Yuki’s chatter derails, before she gets back into work mode and disappears into a string of endless meetings.

And so the week begins again. Not that Geto remembers the week before, or the one before that. It’s interesting what stress does to your brain, how the repetition of an endless circle of moments stretched to be all the same can deeply mess you up. Yet Suguru’s pass the phase of worrying about the blurred lines of his job - he just does it. He knows that his actions in that building have no meaning in the real world if not enriching the rich, or pleasing some of his bosses, or fattening his bonuses. The latest he can’t complain about, really.

But he doesn’t even sleep at his house, most days, and weekends are for recovering and spending time with his daughters and skimming through the upstanding admin, so it’s hard, sometimes, to remember he’s a person.

Because that requires energy the same way that excitement and joy and anger do, and he’s saving all the bits of it he has to be a decent person when he can.

So he doesn’t date — doesn’t have the time to — and whenever he wants to fuck he can find someone. He can always find someone. Again, another thing that requires a fully functioning brain, another thing he doesn’t miss, that he doesn’t think about much. 

Unexpectedly, he looks at his umbrella, tucked next to his drawers. How silly it is, the whole thievery thing, how it annoys him in a way that’s out of proportion, because that’s what happens to your feelings when you don’t feel them — once they’re out, they’re out in a big way. How, though, there’s something tucked in his anger. There’s 

A message pops up. 

You don’t need to return the suit 

I take you’re back.

Did you miss me?

Suguru turns his phone so the screen’s facing down, a smile cracking on his face. Nanami stares suspiciously at him for the rest of the day.

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

“You’re weird.”

Suguru puffed out a cloud of white smoke. Nanami shakes his head, “I didn’t know you could smile.”

“That’s rude.”

Nanami shrugs “Didn’t know you could smile and mean it.”

“Didn’t know you cared.”

“No one should be that miserable for their job.” He says, with an unflinching expression. 

“You don’t smile much either.”

“I never feel particularly inclined to smile at you, senpai.” 

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

The neighborhood gets quiet past ten at night. When the other salary men hit the karaoke rooms and the company drinks and runs home, Yuki abandons the office with a “Go home, Suguru!” and a cigarette already between her lips, lights flickering above her head.

And with that, the office floor’s quiet, and Geto knows that at some point around that time, Gojo will be browsing the sweet section of the downstairs Konbini, mistaking sugar for nutrition.

“It keeps me awake,” he says once to him, distractedly. “The taste’s better than coffee.”

Geto disagrees, says he’s stupid, says he needs to sleep, and that’s a weird memory to have, because while that one’s real – Geto lived that conversation and stole Gojo’s last gummy from his packet – it also feels like part of multiple conversation they had in a past life.

Another thing Suguru doesn’t believe in. 

He stretches and looks at his screen’s clock, and gets some more work in. He wants that promotion without marrying, which is why he’ll spend July living in the office, clean clothes stocked up in his locker so he can stop going back home. Hopefully his shirts won’t get too crumpled. 

For a second, he thinks about Gojo’s suit hanging in his wardrobe. After all, he might need to go back to his apartment for it.

“Have you lost weight?” Gojo blinks at him from behind his shades.

Geto unwraps his plain onigiri, sitting down. The rain hits the plastic covering them in the outside sitting area of the convenience store. Gojo leans closer, face scrunching and eyes squinting “Like, why are you barely eating your —“

With a gesture that comes with ease, Suguru places the palm of his hand on Satoru’s chest and pushes him back on the chair. Suguru takes him on, from the way his forehead relaxes to the long second he spends looking at Suguru’s hand moving away, and he feels warm. He wants to know what else he’d let his hands do to him.

Suguru clears his throat. “I haven’t.” 

Gojo leans back, legs open and hands in his pockets, “You like soba, right?”

It’s his favourite dish. Suguru, however, hasn’t told him that. “Like, in general?”

Satoru nods. “There’s a restaurant ten minutes from here. If you, uhm, fancy a real meal. It’s open all night”

“Stop hitting on me.”

Satoru grins “Thought you liked it.”

“In your dreams.”

At that, Gojo falters. So unlike him. So unlike the fragments of the boy that visits his sleep. Suguru stops chewing, his stomach grumbling in displeasure. 

“What if you do like it? In my dreams, I mean.”

Throat tight, Suguru follows the movement of Gojo’s lips, drops of rain hitting the asphalt, Gojo’s brief silence rendered inaudible. “Do you dream of me often?”

There’s something unsaid, because Suguru dreams of him every night. When he closes his eyes, he sees blue ones smiling at him and feels sand under his toes. He doesn’t know how it makes him feel, having all that knowledge about a version of Gojo Satoru who doesn’t exist. 

“What if,” Satoru breathes, a sly grin thinning his lips “What if you were younger in my dreams?”

“How much younger?”

“Seventeen.”

Suguru halts. Gojo hides behind his glasses, which are square and not round today. “That’s young.”

“You have shorter hair, too.”

“Weirdly specific.”

The grin smothens into a smile. “And bigger earrings.”

The onigiri lies abandoned on a piece of paper. The air is muddy and warm, and Suguru’s shirt sticks to him like a second skin. Instinctively, he touches his naked lobes. Earrings are not part of his company’s dress code. "Interesting."

“But,” Satoru says, looking up to the rain, “I don’t get to see much of you as you are now, in those dreams.”

“What?”

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Like I don’t know what you looked like in high school. I bet you had acne.”

“I never had acne.”

“Liar.”

Suguru breaths in. “What’s your point?”

“Why don’t I dream of you?” Satoru relents, as if annoyed. “Why do I dream of this teenager I don’t know?”

Suguru’s mouth grows dry, at that, heartbeat jumping in his ears. He’s dizzy. “Soba, uhm?”

Satoru’s knees jerk up. “What does it have to do with –”

“I think I might want to grab some. If you want to...”

Gojo’s on his feet before Geto can finish his sentence, mood shifted into something bright, and for now, Geto doesn’t need his dreams to tell him how to feel about this aggravating man.

[cheesesoda]

Strawberry Marshmallows

rookie!leon x fem!cutecore!reader

request by: anon

request: “hey love ! i was wandering if i could requests a "hellokiity/cutecore/strawberry" fem reader x rookie leon? basically a reader who is obsessed with anything pink and cute :) im thinking just some very heavy flirtnig that makes leon blush a ton ok thanks bye 1!!!”

a/n: this is so cute!! i’m goth but i hope i do this justice because this idea is adorable 😭 also i did this as a non-apocalyptic/nothing bad happens au!

summary: leon develops a crush on the cute receptionist of the rpd.

genre: fluff!!

cw: flirting, slightly suggestive?

—————————————————————————-

it was finally his first day. leon kennedy’s lifelong dream of becoming a police officer was finally coming true. he drove to the station, excited to start his career. when he walked into the raccoon city police station, he was met with a reception desk, but behind it sat a beautiful young woman, dressed in light pink, and decorated with accessories of the same color. she looked fairly young too, probably about his age. he took note of how her desk was also decorated with pink stationary, hello kitty plushies, and next to her was a bag of hello kitty strawberry marshmallows. unlike the somewhat drab and plain police station, her desk was very visually appealing and colorful.

“hi! what can i do for you?” she greeted him with a smile once she noticed his presence. her smile made him nearly melt into the floor. “uh- i’m the new officer, leon. leon kennedy.” he stutters. “oh! it’s so great to meet you, leon! and congratulations! i’ll get you checked in and you can go up those stairs, turn right and go to the stars office!” she explained as she typed away at her computer, her pink nails tapping against the chunky computer keys. little did leon know, she wasn’t necessarily checking him in, she was notifying the team that the new rookie arrived.

“thanks,” he says and stands awkwardly for a moment. “i- uh- i like your decorations.” he compliments, gesturing to her desk. she looks up at him, a glimmer in her eye and a smile. “for real? thanks! most people would think i wouldn’t be allowed to decorate my desk like this and dress like this working as a police station receptionist, but they can’t resist me.” she winks at leon and his cheeks turn a soft pink hue. she eats a small pink marshmallow out of the bag as she finishes up logging him in. “you want one?” she smiles softly, holding out a tiny soft marshmallow to him. “uh- i- sure” he chuckles and thanks her. she hands him the marshmallow and he eats it hesitantly. “i might not be the youngest in the station anymore, how old are you, leon?” she asks. “21” he replies. “me too!” she exclaims as if he has just said he loves her favorite music artist.

suddenly, marvin branagh walks up to the reception desk. “you must be leon kennedy. lieutenant marvin branagh. nice to meet you.” marvin says with a small smile as he shakes leon’s hand. “nice to meet you too, lieutenant.” leon smiles. “we should get going, i’ll show you around and you can meet everyone else.” marvin says. secretively, y/n gets up from her desk and makes her way to the west office, where everyone was, preparing for leon’s arrival. a banner saying ‘welcome leon’ hung from the ceiling, as well as other decorations such as balloons, streamers, etc.

once marvin and leon reach the west office, they open the door and suddenly the lights turn on and everyone cheers, “welcome leon!” leon chuckles in disbelief. “i- thank you, i don’t know what to say.” he smiles. he spots y/n immediately—how could he not? she grins at him and waves excitedly and he waves back a bit.

everyone starts celebrating and mingling with the new rookie. leon can’t help but let his eyes wander to the receptionist though. “i see you looking at our receptionist.” chris teases, putting an arm around leon’s shoulder. the blond blushes and looks away. “it’s alright, man! go for it, rookie!” chris laughs and pats him on the back before walking away.

y/n approaches leon, two pieces of cake in hand. “i got you some cake, leon!” she smiles and hands him one. the cake is vanilla with little strawberries inlayed on the top. the words “congratulations, leon!” decorate the center of the top in pink icing (though, on leon’s piece, it looks like it just says “congr”).

he took a bite of the cake before complimenting it. “wow, this is really good…” he says. “really? thanks! i made it myself.” y/n smiles. ‘she made me a cake? she doesn’t even know me but she made me a cake…’ leon thinks to himself. he blushed at the thought.

his first day and he already has a crush.

4 months later…

leon walks into the station on monday and sees y/n at her pink desk as usual. “good morning, leon!” she smiles at him, as usual. “morning, y/n” he smiles back. she has another bag of strawberry hello kitty marshmallows, and a cup of some pink colored tea that leon never knew the name of, as usual. in the 4 months leon has worked at the rpd, if he has learned one thing about the beloved receptionist, it’s that she is a flirt. like, a big flirt.

a week after he joined the rpd, the team invited him out for drinks. y/n went too of course, and leon found out that she is a very… physically affectionate drunk. her hands crept up his thighs, on his arms, even on his cheek at one point and he could feel the sweat forming on his face. he wrote it off as just her being a touchy drunk.

that was until a couple weeks later, y/n asked him about his girlfriend. “oh, i actually uh- don’t have a girlfriend.” he smiled awkwardly. “seriously? damn, you’re so cute, i never would’ve guessed.” she said casually as she typed in her computer. he blushed harder than ever. ‘she was calling him cute?’

another occurrence was about 2 months after he joined. y/n dropped off some papers at leon’s desk. “thank you.” he said. “no problem, pretty boy.” she winked. he died.

then, roughly 3 months after he came to the rpd, the flirting happened again. leon walked into the station and was met with y/n’s beautiful face, as usual. except today, she was leaning back in her chair and groaned. “long night?” leon asked with a slight chuckle. “i wish, if only you were there, we both would’ve had long nights if it were up to me.” y/n winked at him and his heart stopped. “it was just some stupid guy last night who was hitting on me and i could just tell he was some arrogant prick.” she sighs. “i just want a guy who is sweet and nice to me,” y/n smiles softly. “you’d be such a good boyfriend, leon.” he was sure he was redder than a tomato. ‘we both would’ve had long nights’. dammit, now he’s thinking of what it would be like to have sex with her. but he’s also thinking of what it would be like to be her boyfriend.

despite all the heavy flirting and hints, leon was still way too nervous to confess. that is, until february 14th rolled around. he decided he would tell her. leon came into work that day as usual and y/n gave him a strawberry hello kitty marshmallow, as usual. they went about their normal days but once y/n was walking out of the station to head home, leon called her name and caught up to her. she wore pink earmuffs, a pink scarf, and white leg warmers to help protect her from the cold february weather. “i uh… i don’t know how to say this so i’ll just get to the point…” leon takes a deep breath once he reached her, the white snow slowed him down a bit but that didn’t matter. “you’re so sweet and adorable and beautiful and i just always want to be around you. ever since my first day, i’ve wanted to ask you this because i really like you, like, i really really like you. so, y/n, will you go out with me?” he says and she grins warmly and sincerely.

she wraps her arms around his neck and gives him a soft but loving kiss. he stands there in shock for a moment, since he was expecting rejection. “of course, leon! i was wondering how long it would take you.” she giggled. “oh and i um got you some things.” he said as he held out a fairly large my melody plushie, a heart-shaped box of chocolates, and, of course, some hello kitty strawberry marshmallows.

[guess-that-ship]

S12 Round 1

Anti-Government Gays

cw: major spoilers

Bee is a kind-hearted person who's very smart, aspiring to go to a good academic school and help the people around him. Mouse is a jaded, wanted criminal who is on the run from the government, and just happens to see an open window while he's on the verge of death. Bee finds him in his room and helps patch him up, before Mouse escapes out the window.

This inadvertently ruins Bee's planned future life, as helping a wanted criminal isn't very favourable in the governments eyes. So Bee ends up, years later, working a simple, plain job, just trying his best really. It isn't until one day, where he watches a man die right before his eyes, that things change. The government tries to cover the incident up, framing Bee as the murderer, and that's when Mouse comes back into his life to save him.

Mouse takes Bee to another town practically run by criminals, and Bee starts living with him. Though Mouse acts stand-off-ish and an asshole, his behaviour stems from a care for those around him, Bee in particular. Mouse and Bee constantly save and help each other from various situations, and grow a lot closer together, with the two even sharing a kiss during their time living together.

But eventually, they make final plans to take down the government, and when they do enact on them, Bee gets killed. Even when they're comrades leave his body, Mouse stays to mourn. Thanks to some godly intervention, Bee gets resurrected, and as they look upon their old city, they share one last kiss, before parting ways, with Bee staying in his home city, while Mouse takes off to explore the world, promising to find each other again one day.

Of Petty Revenge and Impulse

A new team leader is transferred into the local branch of the company from overseas. He has new money and likes to show it. He craves acknowledgement. One of his coworkers makes blunt remarks about people who show off their wealth time and time again.

He's offended at first. He tries to make her feel bad by taking her for a drive in a car that she called useless and by giving her an expensive gift that she said was for phonies. Those actions are easily mistaken for flirting. But deep down, he's hurting because he was demoted from the overseas branch.

The coworker is not just blunt and honest; she's also very impulsive. Her words and actions get ahead of herself. Her first offhand remark was a flirty joke made on a whim. Every attempt that the team leader used to show her up actually endears him to her. She continues to make little gestures that she could continue to rationalize as impulse. She also makes bigger choices like putting a down payment on a new apartment away from her family, only to back out when she realizes how caught up she is in whimsical feelings. She admits to herself that she likes the guy.

The team leader is so devastated when he gets passed over promotion again that he almost quits the company, but his coworker goes to check on him. Though he doesn't realize it's genuine concern for him as a person, he's eventually convinced to stay.

The coworker's "in the moment" mindset makes their relationship very lively. It also causes a huge snag when the team leader gets an overseas promotion… which gets delayed for a year. The coworker has applied for the overseas branch as well, and now they have to coordinate their vacations. The subtle guilt-tripping to get vacation and the impulse ticket buying land them in different countries yet again, but once they finally land in the same place, they use these skills to make the most of their time together.

And when they meet the coworker's parents, the father is just as good at drawing guilt through grand actions.

[ghostiexe]

well! this was written for @buns-and-butter but somehow i lost the ask, sorry about that!

the prompt was something along the lines of 'wilbur helping cafe employee reader when they have a creepy/stalker-ish customer' and i am here to deliver :3

this is not proof read or edited in any way, please forgive any mistakes

tw: stalking, uncomfortable flirting, you get called a chick once

wordcount: 2,686

The past few weeks, you’ve noticed something. 

Every time you work the closing shift, the same guy comes, orders a plain black coffee, stares at you, and only leaves when you tell him you have to close. 

And, yeah, total weirdo alert, right? 

But it’s fine. Maybe he works a night shift or something and needs something to keep him up. 

Then again, why would he watch you? You’ve seen him bring a laptop, surely there’s something else he could do rather than stare at you. 

Currently, you’re crouching behind the ordering counter, wiping up a spill. The café you work at is pretty slow today, though that's not unusual, especially since you’re working a closing shift again. You don’t mind closing, but you also like day shifts because that’s when your favorite regular usually drops in. You haven’t seen him in a few days, since you’ve been stuck closing. 

You feel a little bad for the customer who's drink you'd dropped, but she had assured you it was fine and you'd just remade it for her. 

You huff softly as you stand back up, holding the now tea soaked rag in your hand. When you look up, you blink in surprise, then beam. 

“Will!” You exclaim, pleasantly surprised when you see the guy you were just thinking about. You giggle and watch his nose scrunches as he grins back at you. 

“Hi!” He says, leaning on the counter slightly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You hope you aren’t blushing. “One sec, I need to clean this rag, and then I’ll be right back.” You tell him, and he shoots you  thumbs up. You turn your back on him and quickly go to the kitchen, rushing to take care of the rag so you can get back out there to him. 

By the time you’re back out, the girl from earlier has left. You can’t help but feel a little bit comforted by the privacy.

You smile again and lean against the counter. “So,” you start, watching as he mirrors your movement and rests his arms against the counter as well, tilting his head slightly. “The usual?” You ask. 

“The usual.” He agrees, and you giggle. You nod and push yourself back, turning to grab a cup before realizing something and turning your head back toward him. 

“To go or to stay?” You ask, since every time he comes it’s different. He hums in thought, tapping his chin before shrugging. “Ah, to stay, I suppose.” He says. “I’m not busy.” He smiles softly at you and you nod, starting to make his drink as he watches you curiously. “So…” You start, pulling out a mug for him and starting on his drink. “You don’t usually drop by this late, yeah?” You ask, trying to make conversation. He opens his mouth to respond when the door dings, and you glance over his shoulder, face dropping when you realize it’s the same guy that’s been showing up every day. Wilbur shuffles to the side, making room for the other guy to order. The stranger grins at you.

You shift uncomfortably but nod in acknowledgement. “I’ll just be a moment.” You tell him, pumping lavender into Wilbur’s London Fog, watching as Wilbur walks away to his usual table. “Alright, sorry, can I take your order?” You ask in your customer service voice. It’s just a little too friendly, and your smile is strained. 

He laughs and leans against the counter, the same way Wilbur does. You don’t like it as much as you do when Wilbur does it. Actually, you don’t like it at all. “Could I start with your number?” He asks, and you force yourself to laugh. This isn’t the first time a random person has asked for your number, but it never gets less awkward. 

“Oh, I don’t know.” You say, trying to sound sympathetic. “Um, I’m not really…” You trail off, hoping he’ll take the hint. The guy scoffs. 

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’ve got a boyfriend.” He says, sounding a little annoyed. 

You shake your head, stepping away slightly. “I- I mean, no, just, I’m not sure.” You say, trying to stay polite. He just rolls his eyes. 

“What? You think I’m ugly or something?” He asks, tone a little hostile now. Your eyebrows shoot up. First of all, because the question caught you off guard, but secondly, because the guy is actually stunning. Probably one of the top ten most attractive guys you’ve ever seen. (Wilbur is the first on that list, not that you’ll ever tell him that.) Either he’s asking to try and guilt trip you, or he’s just crazy. Maybe both. “What? No, no, I-” You start to say, but he cuts you off.

“Whatever. Just a large plain black coffee, then, for Ethan.” He says, taking his arms away from the counter and crossing them across his chest. You refrain from making a face. Who orders plain black coffee at 7:00PM? You try not to judge him, though, it is quite cold out. Maybe it’s just to warm himself up. “To stay.” He adds, and you nod, giving him a small smile. Nevermind on the ‘keeping warm’ thing, apparently. He doesn’t move, watching you, and you let out a soft sigh, checking in on Wilbur’s tea. It’s nearly done. 

After a minute of silence, the guy speaks up again. “You’re pretty, you know.” He says. You flinch, a little bit surprised. You hadn’t expected him to keep trying after you told him you didn’t want his number. 

“Thank you…” You say cautiously, a little relieved when Wilbur’s drink is finally finished. 

You pick up the mug and step back over to the counter, ducking under the counter to grab him a chocolate muffin from the display case as well. It’s become a little tradition by now, he tips you way too much and you give him a free muffin. 

“Will?” You call out, and you watch him perk up before closing his laptop before walking back over. You push over his tea and muffin and he rolls his eyes fondly, a little smile on his face. The other guy rolls his eyes and walks to one of the tables, keeping his eyes on you. “Thank you.” Wilbur says, pulling out his wallet and stuffing a bill into your tip jar. Then he lowers his voice and leans in. “Jesus, that guy seems like a dick.” He whispers, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb to the guy that just ordered. You wince. 

“Yeah.” You whisper back, pressing the tea into his hands. “Um, it’s okay, though. I mean, he’s probably just gonna, like, keep begging for my number.” You say with a shrug, choosing not to mention that he’s been watching you every night, then speak at your normal volume again. “Enjoy your drink.” You say, smiling gently. Wilbur nods, then looks back at the guy, squinting his eyes. 

“Yeah, thank you.” He says, still watching the guy. He looks back at you, smiles politely, and goes back to his spot. You start on a bit of mindless busywork as you wait for the guy’s coffee to finish brewing. 

You can’t help but sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. At least Wilbur is here, instead of being alone like you normally are. 

After a minute, the guy’s coffee is finished and you glance down at the hasty note you’d written so you would know what name to call out for him. “Um, Ethan?” You call out hesitantly, and the guy immediately beelines toward you. You set the coffee mug on the counter for him and force a smile. “Enjoy.” You tell him. He ignores the coffee and you shift uncomfortably as he drags his eyes down your body, and maybe you’re imagining it, but you’re pretty sure he licks his lips. You want to gag. Jesus Christ, this guy is so gross. “So, do you have a name?” He asks. “Doesn’t seem fair that you know mine and I don’t get yours.” He says, smirking. You’re a little confused, then realize you aren’t wearing your nametag. You purse your lips, about to respond, when he continues. “Oh, wait, I get it.” He says, laughing. “You’d prefer it if I just called you mine, hm?” He asks. You can’t hold it back this time, you actually grimace. He narrows his eyes. “Hey, don’t do that, sweetheart, smile.” He says, pouting like a child, and you shake your head. “You look so much prettier that way.” He tells you, huffing softly. 

“Dude, I already told you I don’t want your number.” You grumble, frustrated. “Do you not understand the meaning of the word no?” You ask, genuinely pissed off now. 

“You know, you’re very lucky that I’m a nice guy.” He says, sounding mad now, too. “Jesus Christ, you’re cute, but you have a terrible personality.” He complains. “Come on, sweetheart, lighten up. All I’m saying is that I think we’d go well together.” He says, leaning in over the counter and reaching for your hand. You pull away quickly and step back. “Don’t touch me.” You snap, and you hear a stool screech against the hardwood floor. You immediately look over and see Wilbur standing up, walking back over to the counter. He also looks mildly pissed off, and he puts a hand on the guy’s shoulder. “Back off man, they said no.” He says, shaking his head. “You could do better, anyway. I mean, look at them.” He says gesturing to you, and Ethan laughs. You frown, a little hurt by the comment, and you can already tell there are tears pricking in your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, man. This chick is stuck up, anyway.” Ethan agrees after a moment, then shakes his head and gives you a scrutinizing look as he walks away, not taking his coffee with him. You hear the door ding again.

You slump slightly and put your face in your hands, and Wilbur makes a soft sympathetic sound. You can’t help but sniffle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Wilbur apologizes, reaching hesitantly over the counter and resting his hand on your shoulder. “I was just trying to get him to go away.” He says, sounding sad. 

You nod and try to wipe your tears away, looking at him again. Wilbur frowns. 

“Do you want to come sit with me?” He asks, a bit hesitant, and you nod. His hand drops away from your shoulder as you step to the side, walking out the little empty space and toward Wilbur. He opens his arms for you, a silent offer to comfort you, and you immediately step into his arms, wrapping your own tightly around him. He gently rubs your back as you look toward the door, frowning. You can see the guy standing at the window still. 

“He’s still out there.” You mumble, and Wilbur sighs. He pulls you closer. “Do you think you could close early? Would your boss get mad?” He asks. You think for a moment.

“I don’t know.” You admit. “She probably wouldn’t mind, but…” You trail off, and Wilbur lets out a breath. 

“Okay, well, let’s take a chance, okay?” He asks, tilting your head up to look at him. You nod. He lets go of you and you wipe your eyes again. “Is that the first time you’ve seen this guy?” Wilbur asks as he walks to the door of the cafe, flipping the sign to say ‘closed’. 

“Um, no.” You admit. “He’s been coming by every night for probably about a month. This is the first time he’s actually tried to make conversation with me, though. Usually he just sits in the corner with a laptop and stares at me.” You grimace slightly, pulling your work apron off and hanging it up on a hook. 

Wilbur scoffs. “Jesus, he’s crazy.” He mutters, and you laugh softly. Wilbur looks back at you. 

“Do you drive? I don’t see a car out there.” He says, and you watch the guy, Ethan, start pacing outside the window. You shake your head. “Um, no, I just walk.” You say, rubbing your arm. Wilbur hums thoughtfully, walking back over to you. You sigh and sit down on the ground, resting your back against the ordering counter. Wilbur joins you on the ground, mirroring your pose. 

“Do you just want to wait until he leaves? I can order you a Lyft…” Wilbur suggests, reaching his hand out and offering it to you. You accept, placing your hand in his. He squeezes your hand gently. 

“Yeah, that’s probably the best option.” You agree quietly. You look out the window, just watching as Ethan stands there. “He’s bound to get cold and leave eventually. It’s the middle of winter.” You say. “Plus, it’s dark out.” Wilbur nods in agreement. 

You sigh and lean your head against the counter. He squeezes your hand, and you squeeze him back. The two of you sit there in silence for God knows how long, probably at least twenty minutes before the guy gives up and storms off. Wilbur makes you stay an extra few minutes just to make sure he’s actually gone before you finish cleaning the place up so you can lock it for the night. 

“Are you okay?” Wilbur asks as the two of you step outside, his hand going to the small of your back and looking at you with a concerned expression. You clear your throat and nod. 

“Yeah, um, I am. Thank you for staying with me.” You say, looking down at the ground. Wilbur had already ordered a Lyft for you while you were waiting, and apparently your ride would be here soon. Wilbur sighed softly. 

“Okay.” He whispers, gently rubbing your lower back before pulling his hand away. He looks up at the sky, where snow is starting to fall lightly. He sneezes as a snowflake lands on his nose, and you giggle. He looks over at you, smiling fondly. You both look at each other for a moment before he sighs, then he opens his phone and shoves it toward you. You stare down at it, met with his contact information. “Could you text me when you’re home to let me know you’re safe?” He asks quietly. 

You blink, a little surprised, but you nod quickly. “Um, yeah, okay.” You agree, and a bit on the tension in his shoulders seems to slip away. You pull out your own phone and punch his contact information in, then go to the picture option. “Smile.” You tell him, pointing the camera at him. 

He smiles awkwardly, and you quickly snap the picture, saving his name as London Fog Guy. He peers over your shoulder and pouts. “You know my name.” He reminds you, and you nod. 

“I do.” You agree. You shut your phone off without changing it and stuff it in your pocket. You both stand there awkwardly for a moment before he clears his throat. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” He says, offering a tired smile. You nod, kicking at a small pebble. Before you can change your mind, you reach for his hand again. 

“Thanks for staying.” You say. You see your Lyft pull up and Wilbur sighs. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you next time I drop by for my tea.” He says, squeezing your hand and then letting it go. He opens the door to the Lyft so you can get in, but before you can shut it, he puts his hand on your chin and tilts it so you’re looking at him. Your face burns. “Remember to text me when you get home, okay?” He requests, voice quiet and a little concerned. Your expression softens. 

“Okay.” You agree, then look away again. Wilbur steps back and shuts the door, and you turn your head to look out the window as the Lyft driver starts the drive back to your house. You pull out your phone and look down at Wilbur’s contact information again, smiling gently. 

You hope you get to see him more often.

[justtwotired]

Whispers of the night - Lloyd Garmadon x F!reader

Part 1 - previous - next

——————

Tag list:

@bodieohbo

——————

Your POV

It has been three days since the threat came in. I told my friends already, and they were going into protection mode, even though half of them would run if a mouse got within ten feet of them.

We normally had two bodyguards around the house at all times and now one of them was assigned to me, to protect me wherever I went.

He is pretty chill though, he just hangs around in the teachers area and I have a scare button on me, so if something happens, he will be with me in a minute.

When I’m in the park with friends, he is just hanging around, hidden in plain sight probably. My dad had decided to not make it obvious where my guard was and how our schedule worked, it’s easy to plan around that.

But currently, I was in school, talking with my friends at my locker, mostly mocking Charlie and Flora who had been all lovey dovey the night before at a hang out.

“We weren’t like that!” Flora laughed as me and James where fake flirting with each other and I raised my eyebrows at her. “Oh, you are right, you where more like this,”

I grabbed James by the collar and let myself fall back against the lockers, his face close to mine. I laid a hand on his upper arm and the other dramatically on my forehead.

“Oh Charlie, you are so amazing and hot,” I said with closed eyes making my friends laugh as Charlie sarcastically let out a ‘haha’ before telling me to stop.

James grinned and immediately went along, putting one hand on my waist and the other cupping my cheek.

“Oh Flora, you look so good, I can just kiss you all night,” he said and we both laughed as the couple tried to shush us in embarrassment as the others laughed with us.

“Charlie, Lets get out of here and leave these losers, I only need you in my life,” I mocked again. Of course it wasn’t this bad at all, we just loved over exaggerating.

“Yes of course, everything for you my love.” He said trough laughs. I threw my head back against the locker, letting out a small yelp of pain making the others laugh even harder.

“Charlie, lets-” I tried to talk but laughed, making me start over. “Let’s run away and leave everyone behind, we only need each other,” I said dramatically, putting one hand on his cheek and James immediately saw where I was going with it.

“Oh yes, you are everything to me,” he said trough giggles. I then put my thumb on his lips and we both leaned in, pressing our lips against my thumb and Charlie then pulled James away.

“Okay, that’s enough, that’s enough.” He said and we laughed at his red face. I cleaned my thumb with my sleeve and then leaned against James for support to keep myself standing.

He was my best friend since before we even started school. Our parents where friends and we where the very start of our friend group.

Millie joined us in kindergarten and in middleschool we met Luna and at the end of middle school, the twins where the new kids and we also adopted them in our group.

Charlie joined at the start of high school and last year he started dating Flora who we immediately accepted.

When the bell rang, we bid each other goodbye and broke up in a group of two, heading to our classes.

Lloyd POV

I had not received anything from Y/n since our hang out. Of course, I could’ve reached out too but the mission I had that I was called in for when we where hanging out, had been long and tiring.

It had kept me busy as we also still needed to handle things after the happenings. When it was done I had slept for about ten hours before being woken by Kai.

“Lloyd, I’m sorry, but everyone else is busy and I really need to go now to meet up with Skylor because I forgot our date and I have no one to cover my self defence classes.” I had groggily sat up and sighed.

“Yeah, fine, go. I’ll cover for you,” I yawned.

I already regretted going, because when I turned a certain corner, I saw Y/n leaned back against the locker, flirting with a guy before pulling him in and kissing him right on the lips.

I had walked on with clenched teeth and taught the first self defence class of the day. I had hoped to have Y/n in my class that day but was actually relieved when I found out I did not.

I walked home moping, kicking rocks on my way and muttering cuss words as I went.

As I entered the monastery and headed to the kitchen, I was met with Kai and Cole who where arguing about who could get the last piece of cake.

“Jeez, what happened to you? Where you floored by a student?” Kai joked and I looked up in a small haze. “What? Oh, no its nothing, I’m fine.” I said, walking past them to grab something from the fridge.

“If you say so, kid, but if you need advise, we’re right here.” Cole said and I gave him a smile before it fell and I headed for my room.

As I drank my soda, I decided that maybe I should train to get my mind of her, when my phone rang.

Incoming call from ‘my personal trouble maker’

I was about to hang up but stopped myself. No, I was being a dick. I ignored her already a few days ago, and now because I saw her kiss someone I was going to stop talking to her?

That was unfair, just because I liked her, didn’t mean she had to like me back and couldn’t date or kiss other people.

I took the call and pressed the phone against my ear.

“Hey,” I said and she chuckled on the other side. “Lloyd! Jeez, took you long enough, listen, I have so many things to tell you!” She said and it sounded like she was jumping up and down?

“Hm, is that so?” I asked a bit bored and she stopped her giggling. “Are you alright?” She suddenly asked worried and I cursed myself mentally.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m a bit tired, but do tell me,” I apologised and I could just feel her grin from the other side of the line.

Your POV

“Alright, so first of, sorry for not texting a lot has happened, I was threatened with a note or something? Well they where threatening my father with kidnapping me, but that was just a bit vague, though it brought lots of worry to my parents.” I started of, pretty excited to tell him the story.

“But anyway, now I have a bodyguard who follows me to the places I go which is cool I guess. Police are still figuring out what’s going on and all that sort of stuff.” I said and I could hear him splutter on the other side of the line.

“I’m sorry what? You where threatened with a note?” He asked in disbelief, worry in his voice. “Yeah, but it’ll be fine, the police will track them down in no time,” I reassured, even though that was never said by anyone, I just didn’t want him to worry.

“Wait but a bodyguard follows you around?” He asked and I chuckled. “Yeah, pretty cool, huh?” I asked and I heard silence on the other end.

“Wait but- you didn’t have a bodyguard with you today?” He said and I furrowed my brows. “Excuse me?” I asked and he stuttered on the other end.

“That’s sounds weird, sorry. I saw you at school, I covered Kai’s classes again.” He quickly explained. “They will stop next month, did you know that?” He said as if trying to change the topic.

“Why didn’t you come and say hi?” I asked, a bit disappointed at a missed chance to see him. I heard an unexpected huff on the other end of the line, making my brows furrow.

“You seemed busy,” he said rather bitterly and I was silent for a moment in confusion. “With what? What’s wrong?” I asked and it was now his turn to be silent.

“I saw you kissing someone, I thought I’d let you be,” he finally said and I cracked my brains. I kissed someoene today? Who did I kiss? What happened- ohh, James!

“Oh come on, that was just James, we where joking to piss of the couple of our group by fake flirting, my thumb was between that kiss,” I said with a laugh and I could hear him swallow on the other end.

“Really?” He asked a bit sceptical and I was about to answer before stopping. “Lloyd Garmadon, are you jealous!” I called him out and he stuttered on the other end.

“Oh piss of,” he said and I could basically hear his smirk. This boy is going to be the death of me.

I shook my head with a sigh. “If you’re so jealous, you can take me on a date if that’ll make you feel better,” I said and he chuckled on the other end.

“Are you asking me for a date?” He said and I grinned. “Actually, I’m asking me for a date so you don’t have to.” I said and he laughed.

“Alright then, I can see you tomorrow at the same restaurant we went to Monday?” He asked and a giddy smile spread across my face. “Yes! Yes I can’t wait,” I said, embarrassing myself with my over excitement.

“See you then,” he said and I quickly bid him goodbye.

When we hung up, I let myself fall onto the bed and kicked my feet in the air out of happiness. I had a date- of course I had had those before, but I had never developed such a huge crush on someone in such a short time.

I think I could call this the first time I ever had such a big crush.

I quickly called my girls and they did waste time in coming over.

“Damn, your security isn’t joking, we had to do a weapon check at your front door.” Luna said and I chuckled. “Yeah, dad is worried for everyone now, but it’s just basic procedure, it’s not like you are suspect or anything.

“Hmm, does you bodyguard know that? If looks could kill, I swear,” Flora asked and I shrugged. “Both our guards are high on edge since the threats started,” I said and Luna interrupted me.

“Hold one, threats? As in plural?” She asked worried. “Oh I forgot to tell you? Yeah another one arrived, but it didn’t have anything about me in it, so yeah,” I said and they bombarded me with questions… which I couldn’t answer.

“Hey, they barely tell me anything, it’s real unfair, you know?” I said and it was silent for a moment, but Amelia decided to wash away the bad news.

“Well, fuck that! Girl you have a date! Come, we need to find you some decent looking clothes,” she said and I scoffed at her. “You make it sound like I am not wearing decent clothes.” I said and she looked me up and down before shrugging.

“Hey! What is that supposed to mean? Millie!” She walked towards my closet ignoring me and Luna and Flora laughed at us.

I was trying in an outfit and they where judging if it was alright to wear while we made sma talk.

“But, didn’t you just met Lloyd?” Luna asked as she made a gesture to me to turn around, which I did.

“Well, it’s already been over two months, and like- the whole time we hang out it’s just constant flirting, it’s about time we go on a real date,” I said, looking in the mirror I was facing to check out the outfit.

“Jeez, it’s already been two months?” Amelia asked, dismissing the outfit and looking for a new one in my closet with the help of Flora.

“We should really go skating again soon, I mean it is October, then it’ll be more dangerous because everything is wet!” Luna said excitedly. She was one of those people always looking for danger and trouble.

“Here, try this,” Amelia shoved some clothes into my hands before her and Flora sat back down. “Honestly, I started skating around December and that was just scary, I only got better over the summer, now my progress will be gone again,” Flora complained.

We went on like that until we finally found a good outfit for me to wear to my date.

The next day, I was driven by my bodyguard who would be waiting for me in the car.

“Awe come on, Malcolm, you’re not giving me anything to work with,” I slumbered in the back seat as I was trying to pry information from my bodyguard.

“N/n, you know your father gave me orders not to tell you anything,” he chuckled and I threw my hands in the air. “Still! It’s unfair how I’m kept in the dark while I’m also being threatened,” I said and he shrugged.

“I understand that you might feel that way, but I was given orders, which I have to follow,” he said and I grumbled some cuss words.

“Language,” he said and I gave him a look. “Hey, your my bodyguard, not my babysitter,” I said making him grin slightly.

He had been working for my family since before I was born, I’ve known him all my life, he is basically like some sort of uncle.

He stopped in front of the restaurant and looked at me trough the rearview mirror. “Did you you need me to open your door aswel, madam?” I asked with a chique accent.

“I can do that myself, thank you very much,” I laughed, making him smile. “No funny business in there, alright?” He said and I gave him a look. “Don’t you be like that,” I said and stepped out of the car.

Lloyd was waiting for me at the entrance and gave me a smile when I came walking up.

“Don’t you look stunning,” he winked and I chuckled and rolled my eyes slightly. “You look great yourself, who helped you?” I interrogated and he rose his eyebrows in a cocky manner.

“Who says I haven’t decided on clothes myself?” He asked and I gave him a look. “Yeah, no I wouldn’t believe it either. Nya helped me,” he confessed and I smiled.

“Doesn’t surprise me one bit,” I said, before we headed inside of the restaurant. We where sat down at a table and given menu’s.

I didn’t even have to look at it, having already decided I would have the same as last time. He looked, before deciding to go with the carbonara.

When the waiter stopped by, we ordered and he took out menu’s again.

“You where driven here, I saw?” Lloyd said and I shrugged. “I wasn’t allowed to go by myself, but Malcolm will leave us alone, he’s just here for his guarding duties,” I said.

“I wasn’t worried,” Lloyd winked and I gave him a light kick under the table making him smirk.

The conversation carried on, we had a beautiful spot at the window and suddenly the conversation changed to space.

I was fascinated by some of his knowledge and happily talked along, being a huge astronomy fan.

“Don’t you find it weird that every moon as a name except ours?” Lloyd asked and I gave him an offended look, catching him of guard.

“Excuse me- her name is Yue and she is a kind, gentle, loving, lady!” I said and he gave me a weird look before a grin spread across his face.

“Was that an avatar reference?” He asked and I nodded with a huge smile at finding out he knew the show.

The remaining of the date went amazing, it wasn’t your normal date where you have awkward silences and weird questions, no it was fun and genuine.

We fought over who would pay the bill and had a good compromise.

“Alright, how about this. I pay now and you can pay for the next date,” Lloyd suggested and I smirked. “Ohh, is there going to be a next date?” I leaned on my hands, looking into his.

“Well, only if you want of course!” He quickly said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly and I chuckled. “Of course, yes sounds fun, I’ll be taking you to the most luxurious restaurant in town,” I said and he gave me a look.

“Or just a noodle house, whatever you prefer,” I waved my hand and he chuckled before waving over our waiter so he could pay.

After he had paid, we put on our coats and headed outside.

“Thanks for tonight, I had a lot of fun,” I smiled at him, tilting my head slightly to the side. “I had fun to, thank you to making me ask you out,” he said making me laugh.

“I’ll see you another time then?” I asked and he nodded. “Definitely!” He assured.

I hesitated for a moment before standing on my toes and kissing his cheek. His mouth fell slightly agape and his cheeks dusted pink. Mine did aswel and I took a small step back.

“Hey! What did I say? No funny business!” We looked at my bodyguard who had opened the car window.

“Fuck off Malcolm!” I yelled and he grinned as I shook my head. “I’ll catch ya later!” I said and darted towards the car.

When I closed the door and then the window, I glared at the man next to me. “Was that necessary?” I interrogated and he smirked. “Definitely, I told you no funny business,” he said and I grumbled as we drove off.

I was half asleep as we made our way home and woke up with a start when the car came to a sudden stop.

“What is that idiot doing?” Malcolm questioned and I sat up straight to watch.

There was a man on the road. He had a black coat and was wearing a hat, I couldn’t see his face and he walked over to the car.

Not wasting a second, Malcolm locked the doors from the outside and I saw his hand itch to his belt where he held a gun.

The stranger was at the front of the car and laid something on the hood of the car before running off. Neither of us saw what he had laid down and Malcolm unbuckled his belt.

“Stay in the car and I if say you have to exit you do so immediately,” he told me and jumped out of the car to see what the strange man had left.

He looked at it and his eyes narrowed. He dug in his pocket and took out a pair of plastic gloves which he put on.

He picked it up and- it was a note? Again?

He entered the car again and didn’t say anything, I looked at him but he didn’t look back at me.

“What does it say?” I asked, my voice shaking. “It’s another threat- god damnit I should’ve gotten out of the car,” he sighed and I shook my head.

“No, we don’t know what that guy had on him,” I disagreed and tried peaking at the note. With a sigh, Malcolm held it up to me.

Bold are you?

This is your last warning, if you don’t cut it out, you’ll never see your precious daughter again. And don’t think we are bluffing. I have eyes on her as I write this, and that bodyguard outside in the car isn’t going to do much.

My heart started beating faster. They had watched me as I was on my date with Lloyd…

When we got home, Malcolm immediately headed for my dad and I was ushered upstairs, being told to stay in my room and lock my window.

This was so stupid!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hey so if you can could you by chance do tadc x very clumsy reader who whenever something happens they try to save themself by flirting (but it's like very bad)? I'm picturing a scenario where the reader is trying to walk on like a tightrope and falls landing face first in front of their s/o looks up and just says "I must be an angel because I just fell for you". Thank you in advance if you do take this request, and have an amazing day/night!

TADC cast x clumsy but flirty!reader !

my dear sillies youre going to have to come up with the flirts/pickup lines on your own because admin has zero rizz soooooo TToTT i didnt make meringue cookies today, so sad... but i think i might make them tomorrow! im a little torn on flavors, though... i got vanilla, almond, peppermint, strawberry, orange, and raspberry extract... i think i might do plain vanilla, though! shrugs

CAINE:

honestly i think he might just forget that you completely embarrassed yourself and return the same energy by flirting back with you know? but thats just caine being caine, probably picks you up via literally grabbing you by the back of your shirt and dragging you back to your feet. i think if you guys are close, be it dating or just friends, he might tease you about the line... its going to be a while before you hear the end of it... does make sure youre not hurt, though.. cant have an unhappy circus member under his watch

POMNI:

out of confusion gives a sheepish and awkward "thaaaaaaanks..." before realizing that you just fell from the top of the tent and splatted onto the ground. sure youre going to be fine, given that this is in the digital world. but pomnis shock fades and is replaced by worry and concern as she runs over to make sure youre alright... actually i dont even think she would register that you flirted with her, much less that you did it to play off your shame... at least not until later, probably hours after the event as she replays the moment in her head before going to bed... honestly the line was probably so bad it made her inwardly cringe, just a tiny bit

RAGATHA:

tries not to be phased by the line but honestly i can see ragatha being into cheesy and cliche shitty pickup lines, but after a moments pause shes fretting over you and trying to peel you off of the circus floor... lightly scolds you for even attempting something so dangerous. i mean sure, you wont die since this is the digital world and you wont have any long lasting damage and unlike pomni, ragatha is very aware and very used to this fact. but theres still that instinct, you know? probably gets onto you for trying to play it off, i mean youre in pain and your first instinct is to come onto her? probably tries to deter you from doing things that can get you hurt in the future....

JAX:

probably retaliates with a.... whats the opposite of a flrty pick up line? like he deflects it and crushes it in a teasing way... regardless of if he knows youre doing it to save your pride. no one flusters this man, no-sir-ee-bob! similar to caine hes not going to let you hear the end of it, but he also brings up the incident of you being clumsy to further push the point... a little bit of a dick about it but he thinks its funny, probably also laughs just a little. i mean he said he likes seeing funny things happening to people, and as long as no one is actually being REALLY hurt/permanently hurt/dying then everything is free game in his eyes

KINGER:

so you know how in pomnis part, she doesnt even register that youre trying to playfully flirt with her but she realizes it hours later? honestly i dont think kinger would recognize that it was a pickup line, ever. hes way too busy panicking and freaking out and trying to pull you up off of the ground. probably gently shaking and rocking you about as hes checking your body over for any injuries, forgetting that you cant really get those in the digital world in the heat of his panic... seriously, one of these days youre going to give this poor man a heart attack, please take it easy for his sake....

ZOOBLE:

rolls their eyes and scoffs, before grabbing your arm and pulling you up. theyre open about saying that your pick up lines are dumb and cheesy, but they dont exactly make fun of you for using them to protect your pride. do they think its pathetic? only a little bit, just own up to the shame man, thats what they think you should do... but its your choice... no they just think the lines themselves are... euuguhgh... you know? honestly if they knew any better lines theyd probably offer to teach you some, but alas, they dont. they dont really strike me as the type to be a flirty person... probably gives you /that/ look when you so much as imply youre going to do something that has a high change of ending in disaster

GANGLE:

not phased by the pickup line, shes just standing there in shock. you know how gangle looked when zooble got disassembled in the pilot? she looks at you with a similar look, if not the exact same one. if her comedy mask if broken, perhaps she even lets out a short and soft whine in place of crying... if she doesnt burst out into panic tears, at least. makes no comment about your flirting for the most part, but i think she would meekly try to push you away from doing anything dangerous... ponders

[izunias-meme-hole]

Since you've been rebloging this clown like crazy, who are your favorite Jokers?

Oh no... how could I ever choose?

Anyway.

Number 10. Brave And The Bold - A Silver Age inspired Joker with the Golden Age design and genuine menace. A pretty good combo if you ask me!

Number 9. 1966/Caesar Romero - He's the most iconic of the purely campy Jokers, and honestly he's just fun. I know that's not a heavy reason to like this iteration of the character, but it's true.

Number 8. Gotham - The Valeska Twins share a spot, purely because Cameron Monaghan's performance as them was so great. First there was Jerome, who was originally supposed to be a one-off possible Joker, and remained that way throughout the entire show even as he became somewhat of a Proto-Joker that was simultaneously heinous and fun. Though near the end of the show's 4th season, Jerome dies, but his twin brother Jeremiah ends up getting infected with an insanity gas that his brother cooked up, turning Jeremiah into a Golden Age inspired Proto-Joker who slowly evolves into the clown that we're more familiar with.

Number 7. The Batman 2004 - This clown offers almost everything you'd want, but they're all packed within an extremely different exterior! His bare feet, dreads that resemble a jesters hat, Kevin Michael Richardson voicing him, and just how athletic and animalistic he is make this Joker unique, even if what he brings to the table is still pure fun mixed with genuine heinousness and a bat obsession.

Number 6. Arkhamverse - Despite having that shit final boss and his bad habit of constantly overshadowing other villains, Joker in these games is an absolute blast to see and hear. Doesn't matter that he's a big bad, a secondary antagonist, or just "flirting with Batsy", he's great. It also helps that both Mark Hamill and Troy Baker do a phenomenal job at bringing him to life.

Number 5. Golden Age - Ah, Original!Joker my beloved. A scary as shit cunning sociopath with a haunting grin, clownish exterior, and a nice purple suit who just came outta nowhere. Plain, simple, yet very effective at the time.

Number 4. Nolanverse/Heath Ledger - I swear to god Heath Ledger's take on Joker is the definition of "don't judge a book by its cover" because while he kinda spawned more cringeworthy and edgier Jokers (Lookin' at the New 52 & Leto), he also manages to distill the essence of the character perfectly. He's colorful yet subtle, funny yet terrifying, arrogant yet self-deprecating, brilliant yet insane, motivated to cause chaos yet feeling the need to justify that chaos to the rest of the world, hates Batman yet loves him, and he just simply exists.

Number 3. Batman 1989/Jack Nicholson - Perfect casting, perfect costume, feels like he leapt straight outta the comics and onto the big screen, and he has a near perfect origin. If only he wasn't responsible for the death of the Waynes. Still he's a phenomenal elseworlds Joker and an ICON.

Number 2. BTAS/DCAU - Forever the definitive Joker adaptation. Mark Hamill's voice was perfect for the clown, his designs are iconic, his origin being a perfect blend between "we know what he's about" and "we don't know shit," he's still funny yet terrifying, he's a chaotic artist, his toxic dynamic with Harley Quinn was perfect (which is funny since Quinn was invented FOR BTAS), his death and actual defeat were cathartic, and overall this was the Definitive Joker.

Number 1. Post-Crisis Comics - We got Joker's Five-Way Revenge, Laughing Fish, Dreadful Birthday Joker, The Killing Joke, and A Death In The Family out of this iteration of the character, all of which pretty much came to define The Joker in one way or another, for better or worse. Out of all of the reboots of DC's universe, Post-Crisis had the best Comic!Joker, and in all honestly just the best Joker in general.

[jun-of-love]

gorgeous - kim mingyu

summary: you were never the one to enjoy parties, until you came across the gorgeous Kim Mingyu.

genre: romance (?)

trigger warning: extremely handsome dude, alcohol consumption

words: 1.5k

pairing: mingyu × yn

a/n: reputation is taylor's best album.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧  .✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧ 

“I should’ve just bailed out last minute.”

You think as you look at the flashing neon lights coming from the flat. You wondered how much retinal damage the lights could cause. Plus, it was full of people, who were most probably sweaty and horny. Should you report it to the police for disrupting covid regulations? That way you wouldn’t have to attend the party for valid reasons. Unfortunately, covid regulations were far gone, and even if they hadn’t, you were not that mean……yet. Your heels were already painfully digging into your feet and you were genuinely thinking of turning back and ghosting Yeri, right then she comes up to you, dragging you inside with her. Its done, you’ll have to stay here at least for an hour before you could leave. Fine, let’s do it, how bad can it get?, is what you think.

It indeed got very bad. Specifically when Yeri introduced you to the guys who had organized the party, the owners of this humongous flat- Lee Dokyeom, Jeon Wonwoo and……..Kim Mingyu.

Your breath probably got stuck in your throat the moment your eyes landed on the man. Was it the lighting of the party, or was there a literal halo above his head? Kim Mingyu looked so perfect, everything about him was just right- his face, his body, his smile, his laugh, his aura, and the way he carried himself. God was in fact real, and he has made this being with his own holy hands.

You never considered yourself to be one with rizz, and your interaction with Kim Mingyu proved you right. You refused to look at him for more than three seconds, opting to talk to anyone but him. Your heart threatened to jump out of your throat, making you clutch on your cup for your life. You befriended Karina, Jennie, and Joy- all of them looked like literal goddesses. Was there anyone here who represented the general population? It was probably you, you realized.

The group decided on playing beer pong, which you opted out of, because a) you didn’t want to drink ao early on and b) you didn’t know how the game goes. You only told the first reason though, to which Mingyu replied that he will drink for you (!!!) You only laughed awkwardly and brushed him off, hoping that you were subtle with the panic he caused in you. Zero points in the flirting department for you.

The game was interesting, mainly because it was played by hot people. You maintained the 3 second rule of looking at Mingyu, settling on cheering for Wonwoo instead. He was cute too, in a nerdy way. He was the kind of guy you would usually go for. He was also very built, under the plain black tee he wore, because he kept flexing his biceps, every time he landed a ball in the cup. So was Mingyu, to your happiness and dismay. Happiness because well, he was a work of art, and made you drool, dismay because you could only look at him for three seconds, and he was too good to be true. Mingyu’s team won (obviously) and you hugged the girls of the team and Dokyeom and decided to give a small thumbs-up to Mingyu (it was either that, or completely ignoring him. You were proud of your choice.)

You could’ve left by now, but unfortunately you were having fun, enough to down two drinks and agreeing to play a drinking game. You sat besides Wonwoo and Yeri, and noticed that Mingyu would sit between Jennie and Dokyeom, the way they had left a space for him. It made you feel weird for some reason, but you wouldn’t blame him- Jennie was beautiful and charming, and if you could, you would like her too. Mingyu rushed towards the group with blankets in his hands, dropping one in each girl’s lap, and sat like it was nothing to him. It was nothing big, just a kind gesture- but it made you breathless in a way that you prayed that your nostrils don’t flare up as you make up for the loss of air in you. He was handsome as well as thoughtful, how unfortunate for you.

The game consisted of a stack of cards and everybody had to take turns picking up cards. It would either be a truth or a dare- classic high school dumbassery but slightly unique (?) It was quite fun, especially when Yeri called up her 9th grade Math teacher who she had a crush on (why did she have his number, you’d never know) or when Dokyeom put up a picture of his armpit on his story for an hour. It was Mingyu’s chance and his card asked if he was committed or single- and to do a stripper dance if the latter.

“please be dating please be dating please be dating please be dating please be dating please be dating” you muttered because all of this would become very easy for you if he was dating someone. You wouldn’t have to see him flex his body and worry about drool on your mouth. Also, you were a person with morals, you would never steal someone’s man- and the thought of someone being committed removes any and all attraction you have towards him. Kim Mingyu having a girlfriend was the best possible outcome.

“I guess I have to give a show then.” Mingyu smirked, removing his shirt with one hand in a go. The girls squealed, the guys hooted and all you could think of was how long the chorus of the song ‘Unholy’ was because you couldn’t physically handle it. You covered your eyes involuntarily and chose to look through the gaps between your fingers because you were not strong enough to miss the show either.

You winced as Mingyu ran his hands on his chiseled abs and grabbed his muscular, perfect thigh. His facial expressions were sultry, he was acting as if this was paying his rent. You were probably delusional, but it felt as if he looked at you too much during his performance. Maybe its because you were acting like Virgin Mary, but it still made you flustered.

Thankfully, the guys pulled him away as he was about the grind on the floor, god knows what would’ve happened to you then. In this commotion, Wonwoo ended up sitting next to Mingyu, and you next to Dokyeom. You were quite drunk by this time, and it was your chance to pick the card again.

“Kiss the most attractive man in the room.”

Your luck was in your favour or not, you couldn’t really decipher. The answer to the dare was obvious to you, probably to everyone else as well. You shifted in Mingyu’s direction, slowly because you were drunk enough to enjoy the attention on you, and the look of anticipation on Mingyu. Maybe you backed off, or maybe this was planned by you, your thought process was a little hazy, but you turned your head away from Mingyu and kissed Wonwoo instead. Your friends cheered, Yeri damn near losing her mind screaming. You held on his biceps, and he deepened the kiss, making a shiver go through your spine. You broke the kiss and smiled at him, returning to your seat. Jennie patted on your back, giggling cutely. You could see Mingyu completely flustered, and staring at you every now and then. Ha! You had avenged for all the awkwardness he had caused you this entire night. But if you had won, why couldn’t you stop wondering how much better a kiss with Mingyu would’ve been?

The screaming and hooting probably drained everyone’s energy, making people pass out like deflated balloons. You picked up Yeri, trying to wake her up enough to walk to the Uber. You held both of your purses and heels in one hand, and Yeri in the other. As you managed to put her in the cab and struggled to get inside, you heard a yell of your name. It was Mingyu?

“I thought you passed out.” You said, trying not to look at his shirtless form.

“I almost did, but I couldn’t just let you go.”

“Huh?”

“I thought we had something going on tonight.” He said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We did?” You asked incredulously. To you, it was just admiring his flawless form in a borderline creep, did he interpret it in a positive way?

“I hope you think so too, because I kind of fought off Wonwoo to ask you out.”

You would have thanked God if you weren’t an atheist. You were living your dream k-drama life with two incredibly hot men fighting over you. So, like every female lead ever, you choose the hotter man.

“Sure, Mingyu, I’ll go out with you. Text me the details later.”

For the first time tonight, Mingyu showed off his full smile, with his eyes scrunched up, showing off a little dimple near his nose.

Ah, you were so glad you didn't bail out.

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1127 - Initial Thoughts

And we are back

Chapter came out a little later than usual but finally we're here Elbaf has started and Nami has been whisked away

I guess as the Danes would say Leg Godt!

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release too

Yamato's cover has Inuarashi being visited, the Daimyo of Kuri also is alarmed by the missing people

We seem to be in a land of giants

All the houses have a lego aesthetic it seems, including some trees

But they are alarmed by a fire in a forest

Yggdrasil, aka the Norse World Tree that is meant to hold all the realms, is worried about because of the fire, it seems the country is tied to the tree

What's interesting though is that they mention reporting to the Sun God

I wonder if the Sun God is a mantle or maybe someone poses as one

Giant bees have also been found KO'd, they're called Stingermols

The giants remain confused, even reporting tremors due to the 'Ear God's collapse

The Ear God is apparently a giant rabbit, we just throwing out the title of god for anyone in Elbaf?

We go to the also-lego Big Steinn Castle, where Nami is being kept

So she's been beating the Stingermol, thanks in part to Zeus

Nami panics though, calling for the monster trio

'I'll even take Usopp' girl the disrespect just because he's cuter

To be fair Nami should be alarmed about the fact that she changed clothes

I did criticize it last chapter to being too like her Onigashima attire but I gotta give credit that it's an actual skirt this time and not just plain underwear

Nami hears Usopp's voice and follows something that catches her eye, but she trips on the lego floor

AHHHH HEDGEHOG! It's Adorable!

But in Nami's panic she startles it and angers the poor thing

Usopp meanwhile is outside, in the mouth of a giant cat in a crown

Nami uses Zeus to shock the Hedgehog, but the momentum takes them off the ledge and it falls on the cat, which also electrocutes

Usopp's new outfit seems to be more Asterisk and Obelisk inspired, the beard I can live with but the tache is a bit much

The cat survived electrocution, so Nami and Usopp are forced to run

They wonder how they got there, and consider that it's the Absinthe causing hallucinations

Usopp tests the theory though, and gets the catspaw

They fall from the castle, Usopp KO'd, and at the mercy of the giant cat - now transformed into a lion

I wonder if the crown had something to do with that, its first crown broke during the hedgehog fall

Nami of course prioritizes herself, and uses Usopp as a meat shield

But Sanji calls out to Nami

The Monster Trio arrive to defeat the Lion; Ifrit Jambe, Gear Fourth and Santoryu

The Lion KOs and reverts to a cat

Uhhhhh not feeling that eyeguard Zoro

Luffy no, we don't eat cats, we also don't eat dogs, don't take Trump's comments seriously

Oh they ate the Ear God...oh this could be bad XD

Sanji of course comes to flirt with Nami, while Nami expresses relief having been saved after Usopp died (disclaimer Usopp did not die he's just slightly injured)

Sanji's attire is much more medieval knight, kinda suits him but also kinda doesn't, there is a bit of Germa energy in the silhouette

Luffy's outfit though is near perfect, just can't really see the straw hat over the horned helmet

Zoro though doesn't look good, it's just too much I think, removing the goggles would go a long way but the shoulder guards would kinds be restrictive, honestly the outfit probably would've suited Sanji better (minus the goggles) and Sanji's may've suited Zoro better imo

Luffy of course is thinking about food, Zoro wants to check the safety of the crew first, while Sanji is also thinking about food, mainly the stingermols and their nutrients

Nami ends the chapter taken aback about how unfettered the trio are, and we still have no clue where we are

Annnnd there's the break

Well that answered no questions XD

Elbaf is definitely giving off weird energy, lego seems to be a wider theme than just the Big Steinn castle. It's still throwing me how it was kinda proportional size, the Yggdrasil tree is so far the only natural formation.

As I mentioned the outfits are more miss than hit right now, maybe it takes getting use to but Zoro for the love of god take those goggles off, or at least pull them to your forehead. It does seem though that only the East Blue Saga lot were the only ones whispered away, no word on Chopper or the Sunny at the moment, and nothing that presents itself to explain how they got here.

There being an Yggdrasil implies they are in Elbaf, but at the same time we've seen no ocean, we've seen the coast of Elbaf but it was called 'War Land', so maybe this is a different section of Elbaf? A different 'land' if you will like a 'Toy land'. The fact that a giant rabbit is deemed a god gives off Skypeia vibes too, but if Luffy can beat it I don't see how any giant would struggle (maybe they needed the holy hand grenade?).

But yeah, colour me puzzled to say the least

[sakisweetie]

This man is so hot dear god 😔

The Journalist dating hcs

Gn reader

• He's super protective of you

• If you even try to offer help with any investigation he'll shut you up straight away (how he does it is up to you)

• He gets seriously preoccupied with his investigations so you have to work hard to get his attention sometimes

• He makes it up to you though and it's hard to stay mad at him

• He seems so mysterious to people but he's a pretty plain guy when you get to know him

• Of course, you're the only one that really gets to know him anyway

• Isn't too big on PDA, but he doesn't mind holding your hand or letting you hold onto his arm

• He's also not the biggest fan of just pecking you on the lips or something like that, his kisses are usually hella passionate 😭

• You know the Sims 4 kissing animations

• Yeah those

• He claims he's bad at flirting but he practically has you wrapped around his finger when he talks

• You can't tell if it's just his voice or what he's saying but you're into it anyway

[kpopsexstories]

hello! can i request wayv xiaojun vanilla sex? thank you so much <3

Hello 👋🤭

Vanilla Xiaojun? You got it! This blog needs more vanilla sex. As per my own definition in this post, I define vanilla as "Sweet, plain, innocent or inexperienced sex". I hope this story is what you wanted 😊😘

One-shot #8 (requested): Your crush on best friend Xiaojun (WayV) finally leads to sex during movie night

Celebrity: WayV Xiaojun

Content: Sweet/cute, Missionary, Fingering/Eating pussy

Type of Sex: VANILLA

Word Count: 6.2k

This is the 8th story in my Mixed One-shots series with smut about k-pop and non-kpop celebrities.

You've been friends with Xiaojun for quite some time. You've always been interested in more, and you think he's been flirting with you too. But you've never had a boyfriend and don't know how to handle the situation. For something to happen between you, he would have to be the one to take the first step. And God knows, you've been desperately hoping that he will.

You return to your room with a bowl of popcorn in hand. “Goodnight,” you reply to your parents in the hallway, as they get ready to sleep. “Yes, I promise! Just a few more rounds then we're done.”

Xiaojun is lounging on your bed with a video game controller in his hand, fully focused on TV screen at the foot of the bed. You put the bowl on the bedside table and sit down beside him.

“It's late. I should go,” he says and pauses the game.

“No,” you reply.

“One more round?” he asks.

“No,” you repeat. “I need a break. A movie?”

“You heard your parents though.”

“Yes. We don't need to finish it tonight.”

Xiaojun turns to look at you. “Alright,” he says and smiles. “Your house, your rules.”

Half a movie is not what you had promised your parents and you know it, but surely they'll be fine with it. Xiaojun is your best friend after all. You're not tired, it's not the first time Xiaojun stays late, and you certainly don't want him to go home yet.

Xiaojun hands you the controller. You find the app of choice and begin to scroll through the selection. He always lets you choose. Even though you always ask if he's OK with your suggestion, he never says no. It's almost annoying.

Xiaojun scoots down on the bed, leans back and puts an arm behind his head. His other hand is resting on the mattress behind you. You're sitting up straight, and while you focus on finding a movie to watch, he begins to stroke your back.

You can almost feel his eyes upon you. A piercing, thrilling sensation as he gently touches you.

“This one?” you ask and turn to look at him. The touch is new. You like it. You can hardly think straight.

“Sure,” he says and smiles.

You start the movie and find a pillow to fluff behind you. As you lean into it, Xiaojun's arm gets stuck under you. The fact that he didn't move it surprises you. His presence and closeness generates a wonderful but scary atmosphere in the room, a tension that makes your heart beat a little faster.

“Too loud,” you say and suddenly reach for a remote on the bedside table. Partly because your parents are just a few doors away, but also because the presence of Xiaojun's arm is making you neverous.

You turn down the volume, return the remote, and find yourself wondering: has Xiaojun removed the arm and hand? Was it an accident that he let you lie down on him? Did he perhaps want to touch you, and if so, what does that mean?

You secretly hope that he's still there. You desperately want him to be. But you feel certain that he's not, and you imagine that he's scooted over and folded his hands on his stomach, the way he usually does when you're watching something together. God, you want to be close to the man so bad.

You move down on the bed to match Xiaojun's position, and slowly lay down beside him. The movie has stated, the popcorn are ready and waiting, but you don't care about any of that.

To your surprise, the hand hasn't moved at all. Xiaojun has been laying perfectly still behind your back, equally nervously while awaiting your return and reaction.

You find yourself rolling into his arms. He actually pushes your waist as if he wants you to move closer to him.

You stare wide-eyed at he TV. Your head rests on Xiaojun's shoulder, and you feel his hip press against your side. The whole thing feels great, and you wonder why you haven't laid like this before.

You actually get quite comfortable. The position is cozy, and after a few minutes you get used to it. Your heartbeat steadies and you even manage to pay attention to the movie playing by your feet. You reach for some popcorn without getting up, and smile to yourself as you chew them. You could get used to this.

Little do you know, however, that Xiaojun absolutely cannot focus. Well, he can, but only one thing: you, your body, how it makes him feel the way you lie close to him, and how excited he is that you haven't removed his arm around your shoulder. He's totally extatic to find himself in this position with you.

His arm is, however, starting to fall asleep. And, he wants to be closer to you still. So ten minutes into the movie he rolls toward you.

He moves his arm up and you raise your head to free him. He puts the arm in the space under your neck. Simultaneously, he rests his leg on top of yours, and puts his other hand gently on your stomach. He wants to see your reaction, if perhaps this time you'll stop him.

You're afraid to look at him, but stopping him is the last thing you want to do. Xiaojun's repositioning takes only a second, but it abruptly pulls you away from the movie. You're suddenly on full alert, all of your senses focused on Xiaojun beside you, and what his next move might be.

Xiaojun is relieved that you aren't discouraging him. It makes him feel braver, more committed to you rather than the movie, which he didn't care much for to begin with.

He caresses your stomach over your shirt. You lay there mesmerized, completely consumed by the situation. It doesn't take long before he pulls your shirt up slightly, and his fingers touch your bare skin for the first time.

The action makes you freeze. You lay stiff, unable to move, more nervous than ever before. Does all this mean what you think it means, or are you totally over-thinking the whole thing?

Xiaojun becomes more daring still. He reaches further inside your shirt, and he rolls completely on his side, pressing his whole body tighter against yours.

Instinctively and to your own regret, you roll on your side with your back toward him. You want him to touch you so bad, but the emotions rushing through your body are new, and you've never been in this situation before. You don't know what to do with any of it.

Xiaojun is surprised when your body turns away from him, and he can't help but wonder if he's pushed you too far already. Maybe you don't want this at all but are too afraid to say no. Still, he wants you so bad, and he doesn't want to stop.

He's hard. So hard, but afraid to show it to you. All he wants is to touch every bit of you, run his fingers over your bare skin, feel your naked body against his, rub his solid dick against you, and kiss your neck and lips without any worry.

But he can't. You haven't given him permission to. He hopes but doesn't know if you want the same thing, and so he takes his time to explore and figure out your boundaries.

It doesn't take long, however, before his hand has reached your chest. His fingers brush against your bra, and with each passing minute they venture a little higher. Soon enough, he's cupping your boobs, with an arm tightly wrapped around your body, squeezing and pressing you harder against his own chest and groin.

This is a turning point. He's touching a very sensitive area, one no ordinary friend is allowed to touch. You aren't stopping him, and you certainly don't want him to stop. The fact that you're letting him touch you like this says something, but he can't be quite sure if you really want this, and for that reason it's as far as he'll go.

Actually, that not entirely true. He does one more thing which sends sparks flying through your body. While rubbing his hand all over your front inside the shirt, he occasionally rocks his hips back and forth, pressing his groin harder against your ass. Gradually, he's less and less afraid that you will feel what's hiding in his pants.

After the third time he does this, you're convinced that he has a boner poking at your ass cheeks. Despite being afraid to do anything about it, it turns you on enormously.

Simultaneously, you suddenly feel a great sensation on your neck. Xiaojun begins to kiss it gently, sending shockwaves through your body. It feels absolutely amazing, the way he holds you, touches you, breathes down your neck and kisses your skin.

You haven't focused on the movie for half an hour. Slowly, you're starting to realize things on your own. You may lack experience, but it's obvious even to you that Xiaojun is interested in more than just being your friend.

You lay like this for quite a long time, spooning while Xiaojun feels and kisses you softly. The movie has passed the half way mark when things finally escalate.

Xiaojun should long since have gone home, and you wonder if your parents are still awake. But when his hand moves from your bare stomach to your breasts for the millionth time, and he wraps his leg tighter around yours while pressing his whole body against you once again, your brain finally catches up.

Without thinking, you suddenly turn to face your friend. You do a one-eighty and your faces almost touch. You're afraid to look him in the eye, but your noses brush together. His hand inside your shirt moves from your chest and stomach to your back.

The change of position does something to Xiaojun. He moves his hand higher and grabs your shoulder, causing your shirt to slide higher up your body. He looks at you with lust and anticipation, and when you open your eyes and meet his gaze, you instinctively move in to kiss him on the lips.

It feels incredible. You've wanted to do this for so long. You've worried about it, about how it would work and how you could make it happen, but now it comes naturally to both of you.

The kiss leads to a make-out session. Xiaojun's hand moves up and down your back, and occasionally over your ass and thighs. He's feeling you up, taking you in, and the soft kisses make you feel both weak and empowered at the same time. It's your dream come true, and you can't describe how good it makes you feel inside.

Xiaojun too is extatic. He can hardly belive that he gets to touch and make out with you, the girl he's desired for so long. He's harder than ever but still afraid to show it, until eventually he decides it's time to just go for it. If you want to stop him, he will.

In a sudden move he rolls onto you, gently pushing you on your back while climbing on top of your body. Your lips remain engaged and you instinctively spread your legs, while you wrap your arms around his back and shoulders.

Xiaojun immediately starts to rock his body back and forth. His lustful movements make your bodies move as one, as his groin pushes your ass deep into the mattress, and you bounce back up each time he lifts his ass.

You let out a soft moan. He doesn't know it yet, but you're so wet for the man, eager to feel more of him.

Now it's your turn to touch his bare body for the first time. Your hand catches the bottom of his shirt, and effortlessly slides inside it. You caress his lower back, and feel the seams of his pants. If only he knew how badly you want to rip his clothes off, and let him do things to you that you haven't even imagined before.

Your own shirt is up to your neck, and Xiaojun is repeatedly squeezing your breasts over the bra. The grander his humping motions become, the higher up you pull his shirt too.

When it's up to his neck and his bare chest presses against your boobs, he suddenly sits up straight between your legs to take the shirt off. You open your eyes wide and watch eagerly as the man exposes himself to you.

He's slim but soft, has a small tummy and flat chest. It's the first time you see a shirtless man this close, and it does things to your body.

Xiaojun quickly comes back down over you, and starts to kiss your cheeks and neck. For the first time, you feel his naked upper body in your arms. If only he knew how badly you've wanted to get this far, and how often you've dreamed of this moment. It feels so much better than you've ever expected.

Xiaojun too is eager and horny. He rapidly pulls your shirt over your neck, and you raise your head and upper back to help him take it off completely. For a brief moment, he glances down to take in the view of your naked waist and shoulders.

His groin presses harder between your thighs when he stretches his arms and pushes his body high above yours. You meet each other's eyes and both burst out in big smiles.

His smiling face is a relief. It's finally completely clear to both of you that you both want this, and it's only a matter of figuring out just how far you're willing to go.

Xiaojun is first to explore that limit further. He reaches down with a hand between your legs, to your pants where he pushes his fingers inside the seams. He feels the outskirt of your pussy inside your panties, and the touch sends a shock wave through your body.

You instinctively arch your back and hold your breath. He doesn't hesitate to let the fingers venture inside. He starts to pleasure you with his tips while towering over you, making little circles around your folds, before the fingers slide all the way into your hole.

They immediately become lubricated by your fluids. The natural lube makes the penetration easy, as he sticks his fingers so deep he can't reach any further.

They rub your insides as he explores the vast space of your pussy. Your eyes are closed, but you occasionally open them out of curiosity. You immediately close them when you meet Xiaojun's eyes towering above your head.

He has his mouth wide open. He's almost drooling from the corner of his lips. His hip and ass are raised high to give his hand space, but you can still feel his body press against your legs and sides. It's an amazing experience.

While Xiaojun is fingering your clit, your hands rest on his naked upper body, gently and occasionally moving on their own. You feel his hot chest, stomach, waist and back with the palms of your hands.

Every now and then you slowly roll your ass. It's an instinctive move which helps him get a deeper penetration.

Eventually, you touch his ass over his pants, then trace the seams to the front. You find a button and undo it, then pull down the zipper that covers his hard cock.

Xiaojun loves that you've taken this initiative. He experiences an immense pleasure when his crotch is released from the tight grip of his pants. The outline of his boner is clear through his underwear, which becomes obvious to you when you touch it for the first time.

This – the way you're undressing him – is what eventually tips Xiaojun over the edge. He suddenly climbs off you and rolls on his back, where he lifts his ass to pull the pants down. It's a gamble, it might be too far for your comfort, but he's willing to take the risk.

He's suddenly down to only his underwear, which surprises you. He becomes aware that you're laying motionless beside him, looking at his body, and he can sense that you might be having second thoughts.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply. You want to say so much more, but what words could possibly describe what you feel and want in this moment.

Xiaojun rolls on his side while you're on your back, and starts to undo your pants too. You smile at each other and giggle when they become loosened. He half way sits up and pulls them down your ass and hips. Encouraged by the fact that you're still not saying no, he slides them all the way down your legs, where you quickly kick them off your feet.

You're suddenly both in your underwear, laying exposed side by side, wondering how you got so luck to have come this far.

Xiaojun leans in and kisses you deeply. He touches your naked body gently, and when he reaches your breasts he dares to ask the question: “Wanna take it off?”

It's a very soft-spoken, gentle request. There's a hint of uncertainty in his voice. But there doesn't need to be, as you've wanted to take your bra off since the first time Xiaojun's fingers brushed against it, nearly an hour ago.

You sit up and reach behind your back. You let the bra straps glide down your shoulders. You cover your chest with your arm, but after a moment's hesitation remove it to let the bra fall off completely.

Xiaojun can hardly contain himself. He smiles wide and immediately reaches out to touch your naked body when you present it to him. You lay back down on your back, and he instantly falls in to kiss your breasts.

His lips jump around the nipples. He sticks his tongue out and sucks, while massaging the boob he currently doesn't have his face attached to.

Then he moves on to the space between the breasts. He plants his soft lips in new and exciting places every time they change position, places no one has ever kissed you before.

He sits up on his knees and moves down, to your rib cage, stomach and just above your belly button. As his head moves down your body his hands follow, gliding lovingly against your sides.

When he reaches the area just above your vagina and pantie line, the hands catch up. He digs his fingers under the seams and pulls, slowly bringing your last piece of clothing down over your ass and thighs.

When they're over your knees and he has free access to all of you, his lips make little jumps across the insides of your thighs, until they reach the area between your legs.

He kisses your folds and sticks out his tongue. It plays around the outskirt of your vagina, until the tip of it reaches in and licks your folds.

You spread your legs wide and grab the man by the head. You run your fingers through his hair while he pleasures you, and now it's your turn to produce saliva that accumulates in the corner of your mouth.

You had never imagined you would be in this position when you said goodnight to your parents and returned to the room with popcorn.

At some point – you've lost track of time and have no idea how long it's been – Xiaojun grows weary of licking your clit. He suddenly moves up, climbing between your legs, pressing his body down on yours with such lust it squeezes your juices out of your vagina.

His hard dick is still constrained by his underwear. You start to make out, but while you're enjoying all of his exposed body you make no effort to go all the way. The nervous feeling from before suddenly returns, as you realize that you might be about to lose your virginity.

“Condom?” Xiaojun suddenly asks.

You think for a moment. The question has taken you by surprise. You haven't thought this far ahead.

“Ehm, maybe not,” you eventually reply.

Xiaojun takes your rejection well. “Okay,” he says and smiles, then returns to kissing your lips, touching your boobs, and rocking his hips and ass up and down between your legs.

It was not the response you actually wanted to give him. It was the one that felt easiest. It doesn't take long before you regret your decision, and Xiaojun's positive and understanding reaction has helped to make you more comfortable with the situation.

“Alright,” you say after a few minutes. “Do you have a condom?”

Xiaojun's face instantly lights up. He doesn't even answer, but abruptly sits up and scoots over, sliding out of bed with determination. Still in his underwear, he bends down to reach into a bag he's brought with him to the game and movie night with his friend.

He returns to the bed with a wrapped condom in hand. You look on without a hint of desire on your face, but completely excited and consumed on the inside. The possibility of penetrative sex is exciting to both of you, but oh so new to you. As much as it thrills you, you're definitely worried.

You watch as Xiaojun lies on his back beside you. He bites the condom wrapper to tear it open. He reaches down to take off his underwear, fully aware that you're probably observing him carefully and maybe seeing a live dick for the first time. He's not ashamed to reveal himself to you, only eager to get the condom in place and return to his position on top of you.

You turn on your side and lean on your elbow while he holds his dick by the root, pointing it straight up. You can't take your eyes off it. He places the silicone circle on the tip of the shaft.

“Can I?” you suddenly ask, interrupting his focused work.

Xiaojun looks up at you with delight in his eyes. “Sure,” he says and smiles wide. He suspects but doesn't know if it's the first time ever you put a condom on a man's penis.

It is, but you actually know what to do. Though it's been some years, you once got to try it in school. Of course it wasn't an actual penis, but you also have friends who have told you all about their experiences with boyfriends and sexual partners. Though everything is new and you feel nervous, you're not completely in the dark.

You sit up with your legs folded under you. You touch the cock while Xiaojun helps you by holding the root steady. You place your fingers around the silicone circle, press the tip to let the air out, then roll it down the full length of Xiaojun's solid shaft.

“Ahh,” he moans. He's so turned on he could burst right here and now. You have no idea how long he's wanted to do this. That he's finally getting to have sex with you is the realization of all of his sexual fantasies since the day you became friends.

To have your hand on his cock, naked body beside him, and to know that he will get to penetrate you any moment now, is a dream come true. His excitement is only matched by your own.

When the dick has been adequately covered Xiaojun doesn't hesitate to roll back toward you, kiss you deeply, and climb back on top of you. He immediately finds his position between your legs again, and lovingly rocks his body with the dick squeezed between your lower stomachs.

“Are you sure?” he asks while slowly gliding back and forth.

“Yeah,” you say while holding his strong arms. You're not sure what to expect, but you know that whatever happens next, you want it with all your heart.

Xiaojun, however, makes no effort to change anything to what you're already doing. He keeps humping you slowly, rubbing his dick between you. You're so hot and horny and into what you're doing that you don't think about it. But after a while the thought hits you that maybe you're the one who's meant to do something.

You could lie like this forever, naked and entangled in the sheets, Xiaojun's naked body gently resting on yours. But you know there's more, and you suddenly wonder what it should feel like. Is this it?

You're not sure for how long you lay there contemplating this, your mind switching rapidly between the pleasure of it all and your own insecurity. Your thoughts alter between Xiaojun's sexy body and how good it feels to touch, going completely blank when the lust consumes you, and becoming fully fixed on every single movement you make, worried about making any mistakes.

In reality, it hasn't been long at all before Xiaojun prepositions himself slightly, and the dick finds its way on its own. The head pokes around your folds briefly, then is pushed part way inside your vagina when he thrusts gently forward.

You weren't making much movement before, but now your body freezes up completely. You become tense and focused when you finally feel the dick stretching your lips. Xiaojun's rocking motions pushes the head deeper with each slow thrust, until it's fully engulfed and half of his shaft is inside you.

“Does it hurt?” Xiaojun asks.

The question abruptly pulls you back to the room. It does hurt a little, but you're afraid to admit it. “No,” you lie.

This relaxes Xiaojun, who rests his face next to yours on the bed and starts to move his ass a little faster.

Your arms are locked around his back. Your hands occasionally glide slightly down his spine and up again. You struggle to get fully into it again though.

You focus on the sensation of Xiaojun's dick inside you. You analyse how it feels, as you gradually loosen up and the pain goes away. It actually feels pretty nice. Then the thought of your parents suddenly return, which pulls you back out of the moment.

They're not far away, and the walls are far from sound proof. You promised them that you would only play a few more games on the Playstation. With your hands on Xiaojun's shoulders as he thrusts his dick repeatedly into you, you raise your head to glance at the TV.

The movie is over. You've been here for what, more than an hour and a half? And here you still are, in the middle of the night, losing your virginity to your crush who should have left long ago. You hope with all your heart that your parents have long since passed out and won't suspect a thing.

Your thoughts shift again, however, when Xiaojun let's out a low grunt right next to your ear. You suddenly become fully aware of what you're doing. Your focus returns to the sex you're already deeply engaged in, an activity you certainly don't want to stop now that it feels pleasurable. No parent in the world can make you, and you'll deal with the consequences later.

The sex is starting to feel pretty great even, especially conidering that it's your first time. There's something about the way Xiaojun moves, how soft and loving he is, and how slow and caring he's been throughout the whole thing. He's your friend, you want him desperately, and you're currently having him. There's nothing wrong, awkward or painful about the situation at all. The nervous feeling you've had throughout the evening has gone away completely.

You're suddenly in a bubble of sex and eroticism, as all other thoughts and feelings are shut out. You think only of Xiaojun's warm and wonderful body, on the sensation of his dick inside you, and finally your mind goes blank again. The incredible feeling of finally getting to sleep with your crush takes a complete hold of your body and mind, of all your senses, and nothing else in the world exists.

Mindless and instinctive, your hands begin to explore. They slide further up and down Xiaojun's back, taking in the intricate changes in his muscles as he moves his ass up and down. You raise your knees and feel his hands on your body as they glide down to your ass cheeks and thighs.

The pleasure between your legs intensifies. You realize that this is what sex is and what it should feel like. When you shut out the world, and Xiaojun's body and dick inside you is all that matters, you've reached the peak of how far your first time will take you.

Xiaojun, however, is not there yet. He's getting ever closer to an orgasm and you can sense the change in him when he raises his head and kisses your lips. You've had your eyes closed and he has had his face buried next to you for most of the time since he penetrated you, but when you briefly open your eyes you see how twisted his face has become. He's tensing and clutching his teeth, letting out fast but shallow breaths of air near your mouth.

When his head falls down beside you again, his hands move up your sides and reach in under your back. He grabs hold of your shoulders and uses his arms to pull the full length of your body repeatedly onto his shaft. Simultaneously, he becomes stiff and starts to move his ass faster, thrusting his dick inside you at an ever increasing pace.

You don't even care that the mattress starts shaking, and the bed slams a few times against the wall. It's the unmistakable sound of good sex, but the thought of your parents only appears in your mind for a split second.

Maybe the walls aren't that thin. They're probably already sound asleep. All the excuses you can think of rush through your head before Xiaojun can even make his next passionate push and pull into you.

He does, however, have similar worries as you do and quickly acts on them. Perhaps that's why you're able to let go of your thoughts so quickly. When the bed slams hard a third time, he stops pulling your shoulders and instead moves his ass faster.

His body freezes. All off him stays in a fixed position, except the ass which bounces up and down. In this locked position the only sounds are the gentle squeaks of the springs in the mattress and Xiaojun's low panting by your side. You used to think that these sounds were loud and a cause for concern, but now your mind doesn't even register them.

There's another change to the soundscape, however, which does catch your attention. Xiaojun's breathing suddenly stops. He appears to be holding his breath, and his grip around your shoulders hardens.

Can this be it? Is he close? How long does sex usually last? You suddenly have questions you haven't thought of before, but they go away the moment you get the answer.

At first, Xiaojun's body and rhythm doesn't change at all, but he suddenly gasps for air by your ear. He fills his lungs through fast and shallow breaths. His skin instantly feels hotter, and his dick hardens and widens inside you. Finally, he pushes hard inside you as he erupts, his entire body jolting in your arms.

You're still not quite sure if he's finished. The jolts repeat several times though, before his thrusts slow down as the muscles in his body begin to relax.

He lifts his head and kisses you on the lips again. This time, his face is not strained and twisted like before. He looks flustered. His mouth is half open, and it's like he's just spent all the energy he had.

His body weights heavy on you when it calms down, and that's the moment you realize that it is indeed over. Your hands glide down his side as you too begin to relax, and you gently hold him around the waist.

He eventually stops moving his ass altogether and suddenly bursts out in a big smile. It dawns of you that you've just experienced your first time, and your first male orgasm. It feels good, and your heart is filled with love when you see him smile down at you.

Your mind gradually returns from another world. It goes from blank to fully aware of where you are and what you've done. You return Xiaojun's kiss, but he's unable to give you more than one. His soft, wet lips remain planted on yours, just resting there with no effort to move, as the he man is completely spent.

The lips slide off your face and his head falls back beside you on the bed. You put your arms all the way around his back, and lower your knees beside him. Stretched out and wrapped in a loving embrace, you take a minute to calm down, reflect and simply enjoy the moment.

Eventually, Xiaojun raises his upper body and slowly comes off you. His slack dick slides out of your vagina and he quickly grabs it. He rolls away and sits down on his ass to remove the condom.

He has his back toward you and you can't see what he's doing, but you catch a glimpse of the tied-up and cum-filled condom when he turns and bends over to carefully lay it down on the floor.

You take the chance to touch his back and ass one last time when he leans down over the edge of the bed. When he returns, he rolls into your arms and kiss your cheek. He rests his head on your shoulder, and you smile wide to yourself.

“Did it hurt?” he asks again.

“No,” you say, a satisfied expression on your face. ”It felt good.”

It wasn't a lie at all. The sex was good, and you're immensely relieved to finally have gotten past the months of agonizing longing. Xiaojun is no longer just your friend. You can't help but wonder where things will go from here.

*****

Half an hour after he's finished, Xiaojun rolls away from you and gets out of bed. Naked, he starts looking for and collecting his clothes. You admire his fit body as he puts on his shirt and underwear.

Neither of you say a word. Occasionally, you catch each other's eyes and giggle quietly. You remain motionless and stretched out on the bed, naked and happy.

“I should go,” Xiaojun eventually whispers. You know he should, but you don't want him to.

“Okay,” you say.

When he's fully dressed he comes over to give you one last kiss on the lips. He's as happy as you are that you've finally come this far in your relationship.

“You think your parents know I'm still here?” he asks.

It's the question that has been on your mind since the sex ended. “I don't know. I'll make up some excuse if they say anything. That you wanted to keep playing because you kept losing to me or something.”

Xiaojun snickers. “As if I would lose to you,” he jokes and laughs.

He lingers near the door, looking at and admiring your naked body. Then he turns around and puts a hand on the door handle.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks.

“See you tomorrow,” you confirm and smile softly.

Then he opens the door, sticks his head out and looks around before he steps out. He leaves without another word. He carefully closes the door behind him, and the last thing you see is his adorable face smiling through the crack.

The room and house suddenly becomes completely quiet. You imagine Xiaojun as he sneaks down the stairs, puts on his shoes and leaves. You can't wait to see him again tomorrow.

Shit, you think when you suddenly realize that you need to lock the door after him. You stay in bed for another minute, until you feel sure that he's gone. Then you get out of bed, put your panties and shirt back on, and step outside.

On your way back up the stairs you hear your parent's bedroom door open. In the hallway, you meet your father and your heart skips a beat.

“Still up?” he asks and smiles at you in the dark.

“Yeah, I had to pee,” you lie.

“You had to go downstairs for that?” he asks calmly.

You don't know what to respond to that, but you don't need to say anything. Your father beats you to it.

“We'll talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he says in a loving voice.

“Okay,” you say slowly. The idea should worry you, but you actually feel quite good about it. Your first time was safe, felt good, and was with a person you trust. You know you haven't done anything wrong.

“Goodnight,” your father says before he opens the door to the upstairs bathroom.

“Goodnight dad,” you reply and smile. Then you return to your own room.

Back in bed, you stare at the ceiling and smile to yourself. Today could not have been any better.