#BUMS admission

[aligarahunani]

Full Details About BUMS Course

Unani medicine, rooted in ancient Greek principles and enriched by Persian and Arab traditions, offers a holistic approach to healthcare. The Bachelor of Unani Medicine and Surgery (BUMS) course integrates these principles into a comprehensive educational program. Here’s a detailed look at what the BUMS course entails, its eligibility criteria, career scope, expected salary ranges, essential skills, and the cutoff criteria for admission.

BUMS Course Overview

The BUMS course is a graduate-level program spanning five and a half years, including a one-year internship. It covers diverse subjects such as Anatomy, Physiology, Pharmacology, Unani Pharmacy, Surgery, and Clinical Medicine. Students gain practical insights into traditional healing methods, herbal medicine, and therapeutic techniques rooted in the Unani system.

Eligibility Criteria

To pursue BUMS, candidates typically need to fulfill the following eligibility criteria:

Educational Qualifications: Completion of 10+2 with Physics, Chemistry, Biology, and preferably Urdu or Arabic as a subject.

Age Limit: Generally between 17 to 25 years.

Entrance Exam: Admission is usually based on national or state-level entrance exams like NEET (National Eligibility cum Entrance Test) for medical courses.

Scope of BUMS

The scope of BUMS graduates is vast, with opportunities in both public and private sectors:

Clinical Practice: Establishing private clinics or joining healthcare facilities.

Research: Contributing to research in traditional medicine and pharmacology.

Teaching: Opportunities in teaching Unani medicine in academic institutions.

Government Jobs: Roles in government hospitals, dispensaries, and healthcare departments.

Salary Potential

The salary for BUMS graduates can vary based on factors like experience, location, and type of employment:

Starting Salary: Approximately ₹25,000 to ₹40,000 per month.

Experienced Professionals: With experience, salaries can range from ₹50,000 to ₹1,00,000 per month.

Government Jobs: Pay scales as per government norms, along with additional benefits.

Skills Required

Successful BUMS professionals exhibit a blend of technical knowledge and interpersonal skills:

Knowledge of Unani Medicine: Proficiency in traditional healing practices and herbal medicine.

Communication Skills: Effective patient interaction and collaboration with healthcare teams.

Critical Thinking: Analyzing symptoms and prescribing appropriate treatments.

Empathy and Compassion: Understanding patients’ needs and providing holistic care.

Cut Off Criteria

Admission to BUMS programs is competitive, with cutoff scores varying annually based on factors like the number of applicants and exam difficulty:

General Category: Cutoff typically ranges around 50th percentile in national entrance exams.

Reserved Categories (OBC/SC/ST): Lower cutoff scores compared to the General category, often around 40th percentile.

In conclusion, the BUMS course offers a unique opportunity to delve into the rich heritage of Unani medicine while contributing to modern healthcare practices. With a blend of theoretical knowledge and practical application, BUMS graduates are well-equipped to make significant contributions to healthcare and wellness globally. Aspiring candidates should prepare diligently for entrance exams to secure admission and embark on a rewarding career in Unani medicine.

Read more about - BUMS admission in 2024

[globe4education]

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[standfucker]

Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Monster Trio

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji

Reader: GN

Word Count: 3.3k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches

Ao3 Link

After writing The Break, I've always wanted to do drabbles of the same scenario for other characters, so here we are. ( 0v0)/

Luffy

It happens in an instant. One moment, you’ve brought your mace down on the head of the lion Zoan, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. You collapse next to his body, exhausted from the fight.

The next moment, the lion Zoan lunges at you from the floor, one massive paw smashing into your face with all the strength of their devil fruit, sickle claws tearing your flesh open.

You go flying. You hit the ground hard, leaving a smear of blood from your body skidding. Dazed, you try and get your bearings, berating yourself for letting your guard down early, praying it didn’t cost you the fight. The lion Zoan snarls and charges you.

“Gum-Gum Whip!”

The sight of your captain intercepting your opponent brings a heavy relief–if Luffy’s finished with his own opponent, that means your part is done, too. You can finally catch your breath.

With the rest comes the dull, burning pain across your face. The enemy mostly got you in the nose and mouth, miraculously missing your eyes. Blood runs from your nose and mouth and drips from your chin, bleeding as heavily as a head wound. Still, you’re not too concerned. It’s only when the rest of the crew catches up to you and you try to talk that you realize how much damage the lion did, because not only does speaking hurt, but Nami makes a face at the sight of you.

The local anesthetic that Chopper gives you helps a little bit, but it still hurts when he realigns your nose and stitches up the gashes. Luffy holds your hand the entire time, knowing you hate needles.

“Good job, Y/n!” Luffy says after Chopper’s done. “You’re real tough!”

“Thanks, Captain.” You sigh. “I would have been fine if I hit him again, but I thought he was down. I forgot how resilient Zoans can be.”

“You didn’t want to kill him.”

“I know, I shouldn’t take these fights so lightly–”

“Y/n, that’s a good thing.” Luffy stretches an arm around your shoulder. “You’re a good person. Besides, I was able to take him out easily because of the damage you did.”

“Nami looked horrified when she saw my face,” you say. “I must look like a mess.”

“You do,” Luffy says honestly, making you smile–which pulls on your stitches.

“Owww, oh…smiling hurts.”

“Then don’t smile!”

“I can’t help it. You make me smile. You know this.”

Luffy rubs his chin, eyes rolling up as he thinks. “Then I should stay away from you.”

“Nooo, don’t do that! I need you around to cheer me up! Especially now.” You take his hand that’s hanging around your shoulder, feeling your chest lighten when he squeezes back.

“Well, in that case, I’ll just not make you smile!” he says.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” You chuckle, then look at the mirror hanging on the wall. If you need to lower your mood, there’s an easy shortcut–the combination of your inflamed, swollen skin, plus the stitches make you look nothing short of monstrous.

Luffy notices your face falling. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s going to scar. And not even in a cool way.” Living with severe facial scarring probably won’t be that bad–you are a pirate, after all–but it’ll still be new. And, to be honest, you’re not ready for your appearance to change so dramatically.

“What are you talking about? It’ll be super cool!” Luffy says earnestly. “Everyone will know what a strong pirate you are!”

He’s trying to cheer you up. You don’t want to bring him down in the dumps with you, but you can’t help but be bummed out.

“But what if I don’t want to look cool?” you say. “What if I just want to look like me? I mean, who could possibly find a face like this appealing?” You ghost your fingers over the stitches on your lips. “Who would kiss lips like mine?”

You think you’re holding it in okay, but the admission has you tearing up. You’re being ridiculous–you should be happy to be alive. But why did it have to be your face? Why…

Luffy stares at you in that way he does when he’s thinking. You can’t tell what’s going through his mind.

It happens in an instant.

One moment you’re sitting next to each other in silence. The next moment, he wraps his other arm around you, pulls you in close, and lightly presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

It hurts a little, but it also feels so good that your tears break free and sting where they roll over your cuts.

“Did that hurt? I’m sorry, Y/n,” Luffy says when he pulls away.

“No, no! It was nice! It was really nice.” You have to fight not to smile.

“Oh, good! I liked it too!” he giggles, looking overjoyed.

“When I heal up, will you do that again?”

“I can do it right now!” Luffy says eagerly, but you clear your throat and tilt your head toward the doorway.

Chopper is standing there, little hooves on his hips, thoroughly unimpressed with the both of you and your method of boosting morale.

Zoro

Zoro was always one to downplay his injuries. Next to Chopper, you gave him the most trouble for it out of anyone in the crew. He figured that so long as he got medical attention, the extent of the injuries was no big deal.

He never expected to be on the receiving end.

In the heat of battle, he’s entirely focused on his opponent. This enemy crew is tough, but not the strongest they’ve faced. Strong enough to demand his full concentration.

However, Zoro knows the unique sound of a sword cutting through flesh. When he hears the shhk! noise behind him and remembers you’re also fighting a sword user, he’s so badly distracted he almost gets hit. He has just enough presence of mind to finish off his enemy before turning around.

That’s when he sees you fire a bullet into your opponent’s leg, your free arm wrapped around your stomach. There’s blood seeping between your fingers. In the time it takes him to rush to your side, you shoot your opponent again in the other leg, making him crumple, then once in each arm, rendering him completely unable to fight back from where he lays.

“Yo,” you say casually, but you’re trembling all over. Your torn shirt is staining quickly.

“You got cut,” Zoro states. He tries to pull your arm away so he can see your wound better, but you step back.

“I’m okay,” you say. You and Zoro both look down at your abdomen as you pull your arm away just slightly, and Zoro sees the unmistakable grayish-pink of your large intestine before you quickly plug up the gash with your arm again. You look back up at him. “It’s just a scratch.”

Zoro’s about ready to stab you himself, his eyes going wide with horror and rage. 

“Are you insane?!” he shouts. “A scratch?! Shit, where’s Chopper–?!”

“Ha ha–ow ow ow, hurts to laugh.” You grin, but Zoro notices you tearing up from the pain.

“Okay, just, stay still,” his hands are held up hesitantly, unsure of what to do, and he calls over his shoulder. “CHOPPER! Get over here right now!”

Once Chopper arrives, he applies an emergency field dressing and instructs Zoro on how to safely carry you back to the ship’s infirmary. You act like you’re in high spirits the entire way there, smiling up at Zoro like everything’s fucking dandy.

“This is kinda nice,” you say. “I haven’t been carried since I was little.”

“After you heal,” Zoro says, “I’ll carry you around as much as you want, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he says gently. “Does it hurt?”

“Of course not,” you say, and Zoro curses himself for having asked–he can see you wince with every harsh step he tries to avoid.

“We’re almost there. Almost there.”

“Relax, big guy. I’ve been through worse.”

You haven’t. He’s been in every major fight you’ve been through, and it’s never been this bad. Your blood is still warm on his skin, and your color’s getting paler, and it’s all because he couldn’t protect you.

The surgery takes longer than he thought. He’s pacing the hallway outside the infirmary so much that even Sanji starts to make a comment, which would have started a fight had Robin not intervened and sternly told them both that everyone was worried.

When you come to, it’s to the sight of Zoro standing over your bed. You don’t manage so much as a ‘yo’ before Zoro gets onto his hands and knees, bowing so low his head touches the floor.

“I’ll never let it happen again!” he says, minding his volume–Chopper is only allowing him to visit because Zoro promised he wouldn’t stress you out. “It’s my fault! I’m sorry–”

“Get up.” 

He peers up at you. Your face is twisted up like you’re holding something back, but you force it into a sneer.

“Get up right now, or I’m going to make fun of you,” you say. He hesitates long enough for you to roll your eyes. “Don’t be a pussy.”

That brings him right back to his feet. “What’d you call me?!”

“You heard me,” you say. “I’m alive, aren’t I? So relax.”

“I can’t relax!” Zoro snaps. “You got hurt because of me! I was too weak! I couldn’t–couldn’t stop this from happening!”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever?!” He no longer minds his volume. “How can you be so–so calm about this?!”

“How can you be making this about yourself?”

That shuts him up real quick. Realizing his mistake, Zoro starts to get a sour feeling in his stomach, but you only smile.

“Now you know what it feels like,” you chuckle and wince, “ow–what it feels like to have someone be dismissive of your injuries. So the next time you get hurt, you big dumb idiot, how about you have some self awareness and let me worry?”

Zoro deflates a little. “I still can’t just forgive myself like that.”

“I’ll do it for you.” You hold out your hand until he takes it. “Roronoa Zoro, I forgive you–so long as you do one thing for me.”

He leans in. “Anything. What is it?”

“Even with the pain meds, I’m still sore. Kiss it better?” You smile the way you do when you’re joking, but it soon turns to a look of surprise when Zoro leans in even closer. He hesitates for a moment, face hovering above yours, before his free hand comes to cradle the back of your head and he presses a firm, intent kiss to your lips.

You stare at him when he pulls away, your expression slowly morphing into a smile–not a playful one, not a masking one, but a real smile.

“W-What’s with that look?” Zoro says, flustered now. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“I meant kiss my stomach, dummy.”

Zoro’s eyes widen, but before he can remedy his mistake, you weakly pull him back in for another kiss. This time, he obliges without question.

Sanji

Sanji barely dodges a brutal strike from his opponent, then finishes them off with a flaming kick to the skull. You grin at him as you down your own opponent with a heavy strike from one of your tonfa.

“Careful there, Hotfoot! He almost got you!” you yell gleefully, only to narrowly avoid getting hit yourself.

“Worry about yourself, Sticks!” Sanji calls back, mirroring your grin.

“They’re not sticks!” you say yet again, smashing one of the tonfa into a pirate’s head and knocking them out cold. “You’re just jealous I can fight with my hands!”

“I choose not to fight with my hands!”

“Sure you do!”

You were well aware of Sanji’s commitment to only use his hands to cook, but it was still fun to pretend it was a skill issue. Sanji knew it was all teasing anyway. The two of you greatly enjoyed your banter, whether in or outside of battle. As physical fighters, your rivalry was a friendly one. After all, out of everyone in the crew, you spent the most time talking to each other.

The next wave of pirates comes, this time stronger than before–the enemy’s commanding officers. The battle becomes too serious for you to go on making comments, and your focus gets pulled toward your opponents.

It’s a hard, bloody fight. As soon as he defeats his opponent, he worries about how the others are faring. The rest of the crew is almost done with their own one-on-ones, and he finds himself rushing to find you first, his pace hurrying when he finds one of your tonfa lying off to the side.

You’re straddling your opponent on the ground. Your non-dominant hand is broken, held crookedly against your chest, and you’re bleeding from your hairline and mouth. With your good hand, you beat your tonfa into your opponent’s skull, over and over, a broken cry tumbling from your bloody lips with every strike. Your opponent is no longer moving, but you don’t stop, tears streaming from your eyes as you mash his face to a visceral pulp.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sanji skids to a stop next to you, grabbing your wrist before you can strike again. “He’s dead! It’s over. It’s over. You won.”

You look at him with wide eyes. Your mouth is held open, and at first, Sanji doesn’t realize what’s wrong, but he can tell you only won by a hair from the way you’re trembling. He gets down and pulls you into a gentle hug. “I got you,” he says. “I got you. You’re okay now.”

He holds you at arm’s length and checks over your body for any injuries, finding none. Mouth still open, you pull away from him and start patting the grass with your good hand, searching for something. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he says. “Please, say something.”

Sanji expects something tired and sarcastic, like ‘you don’t look much better.’ Instead, you make a strange, groaning noise as your response, and he feels a chill run through his body. You always had a quick retort for him, even when things were dire.

You seem to find what you were looking for, your hand closing around something. Sanji helps you stand up, and when you open your hand, he sees a few teeth in your palm that must have gotten knocked out.

“Your jaw’s broken,” Sanji realizes aloud, and you nod, and suddenly the way you hold your mouth open is deeply unsettling.

The silence that follows your surgery, however, puts Sanji at an even greater unease. Your jaw is wired shut to let the bone heal, and Chopper says that for the next six weeks, you won’t be able to speak at all.

You carry around a notepad with you, but for a while after you wake from the anesthesia, you don’t write anything down except to answer Chopper’s questions, opting instead to sulk.

“Come on, Sticks,” Sanji says lightly as he signs the cast on your hand. “I know you have something to say.”

You flick him off with your good hand, then seem to regret it, your face fallin along with your hand. Sighing through your nose, you grab your notepad and scribble something down, then hold it up for him to see.

‘I look like a chipmunk.’

The lower half of your face has, naturally, swollen up. Sanji shakes his head. “No, no, you look fine! You…” A pointed look from you makes him concede. “Okay, yeah. It’s swollen. What did you expect?” You look away, and he pats your shoulder. “Ah, come on, it’s not so bad. Most people find chipmunks cute, you know.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you give him a look of surprise. Sanji stiffens.

“Um, well, I mean…” he stammers. Though he doesn’t leave, for the rest of that day, you both avoid looking at each other.

From the beginning to the end of your healing process, Sanji stays by your side, always finding a way to make you feel better. He’ll hype you up by doing a drumroll while he’s waiting for you to finish writing out a thought, something which the rest of the crew picks up as well. When you’re hanging out with him in the galley, he’ll do hibachi tricks with the food he prepares to cheer you up.

The food he makes for you especially helps you get through the long weeks. You were severely bummed out at having to miss his cooking for weeks–until the first sip of the soup he cooked. You never knew a liquid diet could be so delicious. Sanji takes the time to roast and blend anything you’d wanted. Thanks to him, being unable to chew food doesn’t affect your nutrient intake at all.

He also indulges you in your favorite drink without you having asked, which is surprising. It’s not the first time he’s gone out of his way like this, but it does feel more special when you’ve been in such a vulnerable state.

‘Maybe there’s an upside to this after all.’

Sitting in the galley while Sanji cooks, you hold up your notepad for him to read.

“And what is that?” he says, walking around the prep table with a mixing bowl in his arms, looking down at what you’re writing.

‘I love y’

You pause, staring at your notepad with a weird, dumbstruck look. Sanji’s eyes widen, slowing down his mixing for a second, but you quickly recover and finish scribbling.

‘I love you treating me extra special.’ You hold up the notepad hesitantly, avoiding his eye. 

Though feeling warmth rise in his chest, Sanji plays it cool. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding the positive in this,” he says. “I personally miss the sound of your voice.”

You drop your notepad and fumble to catch it with only one good hand, accidentally smacking it to the floor. Both you and Sanji crouch down to pick it up, and freeze when your hands touch.

The urge to say ‘sorry’ is strong, though you can’t speak. Face burning, all you can do is look at him apologetically and hope he understands. But when you do, he’s looking back at you with the same expression he has when he reads a brand new recipe. Like he’s figuring something out.

You go to pull your hand away, but his fingers close around yours. “I, uh… I really mean that, you know.”

Swallowing, you glance down at his hand holding yours, then back up at him, and nod.

“Y/n,” he says, letting go of your hand to instead cup your cheek tenderly. “Would you… I mean. Can I…?”

With your heart pounding, you nod again, and Sanji leans in. You close your eyes, and a moment later, his lips brush yours, feather-light. Just that barest contact makes your head spin almost as bad as it did when you got your injury in the first place.

Sanji breaks free, and you stare at each other. A slow smile spreads across your lips at the sight of his nose starting to bleed. You both stand up, and you write something down quickly.

‘I’m sorry I can’t kiss you back.’

“That’s okay,” he says, reading the note over your shoulder. He rubs the back of his neck, grinning. “I’ll gladly do all the work.”

And Sanji does, in the quiet, private moments where it’s just the two of you. And yet, when the day finally comes for Chopper to remove the wires, and the first thing you do upon leaving the exam room is call out Sanji’s name, he’s so elated that he picks you up with a spin, kissing you in front of everyone before he can help himself.

[murdrdocs]

the brief peacefulness on the beach w finnick during the third quarter quell

katniss and peeta sit not far behind you and finnick, yet it feels as if they’re miles away. at this moment, there’s nothing but you, finnick, and the water. it reminds you of the ocean back home, but devoid of the thunderous waves that consistently soothe both you and your lover.

still, the smell of salt water floating in the breeze is there. the slosh of water hitting your ankles is there. the malleable firmness of the wet sand beneath your bum is there.

and of course, finnick is there.

you can just barely hear his breathing beneath the sounds of nature around you, so you close your eyes to single it out. with the rest of the world dark, you’re able to take in the gentle breath in and the almost ragged breath out.

it calms you further, helping you forget your circumstances for just a little while.

like this you can pretend you’re back home, sitting along the beach not far from the village. you scoot closer to finnick blindly, not stopping until you’re knocking into his side.

he makes a startled sound, before letting a soft laugh take him over. “what’s up?” he asks, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pressing his lips to your head.

“if you close your eyes, it’s like we’re back home.” you don’t mean to sound as wistful as you do, but you’re not ashamed of it. you don’t think about how those back in the capitol or the districts could take your admission. not like you had to do back in your games. at this point, you only care about making it out of this arena alive with your love.

finnick chest rumbles against your arm when he speaks. “oh yeah?”

you hum in approval. a second goes by and you assume finnick is doing it. you turn your head and peek an eye open to confirm your suspicions.

his eyebrows are furrowed as he concentrates, his pink lips parted with his continued gentle breaths. he looks pretty like this, just as he always does. the stress of the entire situation melted from his features, the remnants of the sun beating onto his face, freckles dotting his nose and a flush still housed on his cheeks.

you can’t help but press the softest of kisses to his lips, pulling back to see finnick smiling with his eyes still closed.

“is this you trying to get in my pants, sweetheart? we’re in public.”

you snort and lean back into finnicks side, letting him tuck you underneath his arm as you return to your previous position.

“god, you’re insufferable.”

“you love it.”

you hum once more, not even bothering to deny.

your chatter dies down and leaves nothing but the quiet crash of waves against your feet. you think about home, dreaming of your bedroom once more. and here and now, you promise yourself that you’ll get back there. both of you will.

[desperate-gay]

Alexia Putellas smut

Too Hot

Alexia Putellas x fem!reader

SMUT 18+

“Mami! Mama! Wake up!” Your daughter, Maria, shouts before jumping on top of both of you, causing the two of you to jolt up and groan from your previously tangled limbs.

“What did I tell you about doing that, chiquita?” Your wife scolds, sitting upright to wake up while your daughter frowns at the stern tone.

“Lo siento.” She apologizes, still holding a sad look on her face before Alexia pulls her in and places multiple pecks all over her face, making the girl giggle. “Mama, save me!” You immediately hook your hands underneath her armpits, lifting her up and shielding her in your arms. Your wife begins to teasingly stalk towards the girl in your embrace and sneak her hand onto her leg, grabbing ahold of it. Maria screams at the feeling of Alexia nibbling at her flesh, acting as if she’s a monster chasing her prey.

The three of you all very awake now stop for a minute to breathe at the playful banter. Your daughter sits in your lap, calming down her laughter from all the tickling.

“Are you excited to sleep at abuelas tonight?” Your tone more exaggerated to get the little girl more excited.

“Si!”

“Si? Ah muy bien!” You pull your daughter into a big hug while Alexia smiles at the interaction. Nothing makes her swoon more than seeing her wife and daughter speak in her native tongue. “Why don’t you go play downstairs while mami and I get ready, and when we get down there, we’ll make the best breakfast ever!”

“How will it be the best?” Maria pulls back, giving you a questioning look.

“Well, I’ll make some pancakes and then I’ll force mami to make her famous tortilla espanola.”

“Yay! Thank you, mama!”

“Of course, now go play while you wait. mami, and I gotta get dressed.” You pat her butt, encouraging her to move faster.

Once your daughter is out of the room, Alexia moves on top of you and pins you down. She nuzzles her face in your neck and starts to suck and nip at your warm skin, but as much as you love the sensation, you groan and push her back a little bit, knowing if you allow her to keep going you’ll never leave the bed.

“Ale, no hickeys! I don’t want to be questioned by your mother when she picks up Ria.” Your protest comes out as a whine as she continues making marks all down your neck, ignoring your light pushes.

“Cover them up then. I can’t help myself. I love it when you call me mami.” She purrs and sucks at one last spot before pulling away to see you all flustered and red. Eventually, you lean up, making the Catalan above you smirk, thinking you’ll give in to her seduction.

Instead, you hover right over her lips and whisper, “Be careful baby or you won’t get your gift tonight.” With that, you peck her lips and quickly slide out from beneath her to head into your closet. Her face looks as vulnerable and confused as a kicked puppy after your rushed admission.

“Gift? What gift? Amor!”

—

“So you got everything? Your toothbrush, hairbrush, clothes-“

The sound of giggling cuts you off, so you turn around and notice Alexia making silly faces and mocking you. When she catches your eye, she places a hand over her mouth and makes a strict face.

“Maria, mama does not look ugly!” She fake scolds, trying to take your glare off of her and onto your guy’s own child.

You roll your eyes before making quick action to grab a pillow and chuck it across the room to hit your wife’s face. Your daughter is now laughing hysterically, seeing her mami fly towards you and lift you over her shoulder while you struggle against her hold and hit her bum.

“Ria, help me! Attack mami!” You demand as you’re getting carried farther into the distance. Once you get slammed into the bed and Alexia traps you under her body with her legs on each side of your waist and her hands pinning yours to the bed, the sound of tiny steps paddle their way down the halls and closer to your bedroom.

“I’m here to save you, mama!”

Maria jumps on Alexia’s back, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and trying to pull her down away from you. The Catalan lets go of your arms briefly to reach for the little girl, allowing you to have more control over your body and move out from between her. Quickly, you stand up off the bed and take the child into your arms before running back into the living room and both grabbing pillows to defend yourselves.

“Shouldn’t have done that you two.” You hear a thick Spanish accent rounding the corner, making you and your daughter lift the pillows even higher. An alarm blares throughout the room, signaling it’s already time for your little girl to go to her abuela’s.

She gathers up all of her stuff and rushes to say goodbye to you.

“Bye, mama. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She says while you place a couple of kisses on her face. Before she can walk out, you scream a wait before rushing upstairs to grab something. Your wife and daughter look at each other with puzzled looks and shrug their shoulders at the same time, which if you had seen, you would’ve thought it was adorable. Making your way back to the front door, you hold out a fuzzy gray object in front of you.

“You almost forgot Ellie.” You pant, holding out the little girl’s favorite elephant stuffed animal. Maria crashes into you and wraps her arms around your legs.

“Thank you, mama! I love you!” You repeat the words back to her as she steps out the door with Alexia.

Sighing, you make your way upstairs to prepare your little gift for your dear wife. The two of you haven’t had a day to yourselves in forever and you’re not going to let it go to waste.

—

About an hour later, a booming voice announces itself throughout the house.

“Mi amor, I’m home!” Alexia frowns at the zero response and heads into your shared bedroom. “Amor?”

“I’ll be out in just a minute. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the bed, baby?” You say through the bathroom door, finalizing all the touch-ups on your body. You wrap a robe around you and tie it at the end before opening the door and making your way towards your wife. Alexia lies down with her back against the headboard in gray sweatpants and a black tank top, showing off her defined muscles. You close the bedroom door so Nala, who is currently fast asleep on the couch, doesn’t interrupt you both.

Alexia pats her lap, signaling for you to straddle it. You slot your legs on both sides of her thighs and lean down to sit on her lap. Her veiny hands place themselves on your waist and she ducks her head to start sucking at your neck. Humming at the feeling, you begin to rock her hips and make small noises, causing the taller girl to smirk into your skin. Her hands trail their way to the string of your robe in hopes of untying it, but she’s quickly stopped when you grab her hands and pull away from her lips.

“Why are you stopping me?” Alexia whines in frustration, wanting to do so many things to you.

“I want to play a little game.” Her head snaps up to look at you and sees your mischievous smile.

“I’m listening.” She says a little warily, making you laugh at her concerned expression.

“Relax, it’s not a life or death situation. The game is called too hot. It’s sort of like a competition.” Alexia smirks at the word competition, knowing full well how competitive and determined she is. “We get to have a make-out session, but we have to keep our hands to ourselves. Whoever touches the other first loses.”

She hums and leans her face closer to yours. “You’re going down, princesa.” Her lips ghost over yours while she grips her hands in the sheets to stop her from touching you.

“Not if you go down first, mami.” You smirk when you see her eyes darken and look back up to your eyes. Without warning, she smashes her lips to yours, causing you to let out a small moan and press your lips just as hard to hers. Your hands press up against the headboard above Alexia’s head so your hands don’t touch any part of her. She snakes her tongue into your mouth and swirls around to taste every bit of you.

“You should just give up now, hermosa. We both know you won’t be able to last without me.” Her lips stay hovering over yours while you keep your eyes fixated on them.

“Hmm, I could just grind on you and get off that way, but what’s the fun in that? I want you to touch me so you can rip this robe off of me and hopefully what is underneath it, then fuck me so hard into this mattress the whole neighborhood can hear who I belong to.” With each word, you trail kisses from her jaw to her ear, riling her up more and more. Your teeth tug on her ear, making the older girl groan and cock her head to the side to meet your lips again. The kiss becomes sloppy and needy, mostly because of the pent-up sexual frustration from the past week, not being able to do much more than an occasional quickie.

“Touch me.” She demands, pressing kisses under your jaw.

“If you want me so bad, you touch me.”

“C’mon amor, you just said you want me to fuck you into the mattress, so why don’t you just give up and touch me?” The older girl sucks on the spot underneath the corner of your jaw, knowing how much you love it. She smirks hearing your little moans and whimpers from the kisses.

You thought this game would be fun, but now you’re rethinking your choices. If you give up, you’ll get what you want but with the cost of Alexia bragging everywhere and to everyone. And god knows she will not lose to anything yet to this.

She pulls away after placing three marks down the side of your neck and stares at you with hooded eyes while whispering, “Just touch me and we can be doing a lot of fun things right now, mi amor.” Your lips capture hers quickly to silence her temptation while your hands turn white from pressing against the headboard for so long.

“From what it sounds like, you’re just as desperate as me so just give in, baby.”

She knows you’re right. Every day she has been thinking of bending you over at any chance and absolutely destroying you. Sadly, with a little girl running around, your job, and her games left and right, you both don’t have much time by yourselves. Let alone for sex. In the slight chance of actually having time alone, at least one of you is exhausted. So seeing you grinding on her lap, in a robe that most likely has a sexy two-piece underneath it, is driving her mad.

Every inch of her is screaming to put her hands on you and show you who you belong to, but she won’t lose. She can’t lose. Competitiveness is in her blood and she can’t control it, so she’ll try and break you down until you’re a needy mess and eventually, you’ll touch her, losing the game but getting what the both of you want in the end.

So knowing how headstrong the Spanish woman is, you decide to push her in a way you know will end up getting what you want.

“I bet Mapi is good in bed. I’m sure she would know where to place her hands and how to get me going. Maybe Ona too.” You tease, seeing Alexia’s eyes cloud in jealousy. Without a second thought, her hand reaches out and clasps around your neck, pulling you into her but not to kiss you. Her hand tightens making it harder to breathe while she continues looking at your submissive state.

“You are so pathetic, trying to get me all riled up, talking about my teammates. Well, you got what you want, I’m touching you, but you’re gonna know that I’m the only one who can make you feel good once you’re limping tomorrow morning.” There’s a slight rasp in her voice that lets you know she is on her last nerve. One wrong move and you won’t get off at all. She releases her hold on your neck and moves it to behind your head to pull you into a rough kiss. “You’re gonna put that whore of a mouth to better use and maybe I’ll let you cum tonight.”

You nod quickly in response and begin to swing your leg over her waist so you can give her what she wants, but you’re stopped by her hand forcing your leg back down.

“I thought you wanted-“

“You really thought I forgot about my gift.” Her hand moves to the loose knot and reaches to the string, pulling the robe off of you. A white lingerie set hugs your body just right, making the Catalan basically drool all over the mattress. Her hands rub down your sides and then to the skin of your thighs. Her gaze never leaves your chest which is barely hidden behind the lace.

“Do you like it?” Alexia looks up into your eyes with her mouth slightly open.

“Are you kidding? This is- I- you’re so beautiful, princesa.” A blush reaches its way across your face as the older girl continues to skim her eyes all over you with no shame. “Hmm, as much as I love this, I remember you being a little brat, so you’re going to make it up to me.”

Alexia adjusts herself so she’s flat on the bed while peeling her pants off. You climb down so your knees are at the end of the bed and your face is hovering over her boxers. Your fingers curl at the top of the elastic and begin to pull it down. The girl below you lets out a small sigh as the cold breeze meets her core. You start trail kisses down her stomach, going lower with each peck.

“I want your ass up in the air, bonita.”

One of her hands gathers your hair in a ponytail and twists it to be able to grip it all in one fist. She forcefully pushes your head down, telling you to hurry up. Your tongue licks a long stripe up her slit, testing the waters. You notice her breath hitch at the contact, so you take it as a sign to keep going. While you switch from sucking and licking at her clit, her hand grips tighter on your head and pushes you further into her.

“God your mouth is so good, hermosa. Keep it up and you’ll get a reward.” She groans, tilting her neck back in pleasure, but only for a quick second. Her head snaps back up to see the perfect look of your ass in the air while your head bobs up and down.

Your tongue glides down to her sopping hole and dips in, causing the girl below you to let out a small moan and snap her hips up toward your face. Your thumb moves up to rub soft circles against her clit while your tongue continues to work in and out of her.

“Just like that. Don’t stop.”

So you don’t. You decide to speed up your actions, driving her over the edge. Your thumb continues to rub circles but more softly than before. Her hand in your hair pulls you up so you’re now face to face with her. Her lips latch onto yours and she shoves her tongue in your mouth, swirling around and exploring every inch.

“Do I get my reward now, mami?” You shyly ask, pulling away just enough to be able to see her reaction.

“Why don’t you go grab the toy and we’ll get this party started.”

You’re quick to get off the bed and rush over to the drawer that holds all of your adult toys. Walking over to her, she sits up and grabs the harness from your hands before putting it on. You remain kneeling on the bed, waiting for her to give you instructions for where she wants you.

“C’mere, amor.” She says, patting her lap. You crawl over to her and sit where she patted, continuing to wait to see what she wants. Her fingers find their way to your panties and begin to tug them down, making you lift your legs to fully pull them off. She pulls you in by the back of your neck and smashes her lips onto yours once again while her hand trails down and gathers up your arousal. “How long have you been like this, huh? Dripping and soaking through your panties.”

You whine when her middle and index finger dip into you and pull out, rubbing slow antagonizing circles around your clit.

“Please.” You whisper against her lips.

“Please what, amor? Use your words.”

“Fuck me, please!” After seeing her take control of you, you’ve been a mess. It’s been so long since the both of you have had a night to yourselves and thankfully Alexia’s mom and sister wanted to see Maria. There was no way you could say no.

“Mmm, if you want to get off, you’re doing the work, so sit up for me.”

You lift up your hips as Alexia lines up the toy to your entrance. She pulls you down, allowing you to sink into the toy. You quietly moan at the feeling of finally being filled and start to unconsciously roll your hips which earns you a slap on the ass.

“I didn’t say you could move yet, did I?” She rasps, tilting her head and waiting for an answer.

“No, I’m sorry. I’ve just been waiting for this for a while, it won’t happen again. I promise, baby.” Alexia smirks at your whining and moves her hands to your hips, guiding you to start rocking.

“It’s okay, hermosa. You can keep going, I know you’ve been a needy little thing for quite some time. Get yourself off.”

Slamming your hips up and down causes you to moan extremely loudly, so you lurch over and stuff her head in the older girl's neck.

“We’re alone, we can be as loud as we want to, princesa. Don’t cover up your moans now.” One of her hands grabs your jaw and lifts your head up.

Seeing your eyes close in pleasure and sinful noises slip from your lips makes Alexia go berserk. She doesn’t remember the last time she got to see you like this, and oh is she happy she gets to see it now.

“Such a good little slut, bouncing on my cock like this.”

Without thinking, she grips the front of your lacy bra and rips it in half, pulling it off your body, and causing you to let out a little gasp.

“Ale!”

“Relax, amor. I’ll buy you another set.” Her lips latch onto your nipple and her tongue starts to swirl circles around the nub, making your head snap back in euphoria.

“Oh my god, you feel so good. I’m gonna cum.” You pant, speeding up your hips, but Alexia grabs your hips and flips the both of you over so she’s now on top of you. Her hands grab both of your ankles and lift them on top of her shoulders, making her thrusts go deeper into you. Your moans become louder and more frequent, fueling Alexia’s movements.

“Cum, amor. I know you want to.”

Not another word needs to be said before your head slams back against the mattress and the coil in your stomach snaps, but the Catalan’s thrusts don’t slow down, making you whimper at the overstimulation.

“Oh, bebe. Remember you were being a brat, so you’re going to take what I’m giving you like a good girl. We’re going until you can’t stand.”

And she didn’t lie. After four more orgasms, you had to tap out. She placed you in every position, even having you slammed against the wall with your legs wrapped around her waist at one point. But now you’re far too sensitive to take more, so Alexia being the wonderful wife she is, grabs a rag and wipes you down. She then carries you bridal style to the bathroom so you can do your business and finally relax.

You both now lay in your bed, facing each other and rubbing your hands on the other’s skin.

“You lost, y’know.” You say, breaking the comfortable silence. Without a word, Alexia leans over and playfully bites your shoulder.

“And no one will ever find out or you’ll be taking even more than you did tonight, okay?”

You shiver and obediently nod, causing the older girl to chuckle.

“Good girl.”

—

“Hola, Eli.” You greet your wife’s mom, waiting for your daughter to get all of her things.

“Hola, carino. Fun night?” She asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“Umm, nothing particularly exciting, but it was nice having a night alone.” You smile politely, nodding your head before you feel someone poking your neck.

“The hickeys say otherwise.” Alba snickers, continuing to press on the tender skin. Your hand flies to the spot, covering the, what you thought, makeup-covered skin. An arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you into their body, you look up and see your wife with a smug expression.

“We had a fun night, right hermosa?”

[moonstruckme]

I would love to see something from the beginning of poly!marauders relationship where they are figuring out that they all want to be together and learning how to make it work. I’ve always wondered how their relationship would start!

Thanks for requesting my love! It took me so long to get to it, I appreciate you being so patient with me <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Sirius is playing with Remus’ fingers, and you’re trying to figure out if the ache of longing in your chest is some relative of jealousy. You don’t want it to be. Remus and Sirius are your friends, and you’re happy that they make each other happy. And honestly, looking at them now, with Sirius’ leg slung over one of Remus’ and Remus’ long fingers in his grasp, you’re not sure which one of them you’d trade places with if you could. 

Things have gotten…complicated, lately, though none of you are talking about it. Two weeks ago, James had kissed you, and you’d really, really liked it, but you’d felt obligated to confess your confusion to him. You do like James and want him to kiss you, but you can’t help feeling guilty for also harboring feelings for two other people at the same time. It wouldn’t feel fair to start something with James, who deserves all the best anyone has to offer, if you feel like you can’t be fully in it with him. 

And of course you’d known he’d be cool about it, but you hadn’t expected him to truly understand. He’d told you that Remus had kissed him back before he and Sirius had gotten together, and James hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the other boy either. Neither of you had quite known how to move forward in light of your admissions, but you’d agreed to put things between the two of you on hold for the time being. 

Then just yesterday, you’d been walking to class with Sirius, and he’d accidentally brushed your bum with his hand. The zing you’d felt was probably more a nervous response than anything else, but it had felt markedly different from the icky feeling you’d gotten when boys had touched you without your consent before. Sirius had been quick to apologize, and you’d waved it off, but you’d seen the look in his eyes. You aren’t usually one to flatter yourself by presuming anyone might have feelings for you, but the attraction in his gaze was unmistakable. 

You haven’t said anything to anyone about that, but even now, when he’s half atop his boyfriend, Sirius’ eyes keep flitting to where you’re working on your homework. 

“Anyone started on the potions essay?” Remus asks. 

“No,” says James. “Have you?”

“No.” 

You and Sirius both make quiet sounds of agreement. 

It’s silent again, the only sound the gentle scratching of pen on parchment. 

“Alright.” James sets his pen down with a thwap. “What’s going on with you guys?”

You look up, and he’s staring right at you. 

“What, me?”

“Everyone!” James shakes his head. “No one is talking to each other. Did something happen?”

You press your lips together, but Sirius blurts, “I told Remus I was into Y/N.”

James blinks, looking about as shocked as you feel but without the added embarrassment. You wish, not for the first time, that you could apparate straight out of Hogwarts. 

“It’s fine,” Remus says. “We’ve sorted it.” He gives you a kind look. “Don’t look so nervous, love, I wasn’t upset. It’s not like we don’t all have thoughts about other people sometimes.” 

Sirius looks unsurprised, and you gather that was a part of the conversation they’d already had, but James nearly chokes on air. 

“Do you?” he asks. 

Remus flushes, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around Sirius’. “Sure. Sometimes.” 

James and Remus’ gazes are locked, a sort of heaviness building in the air between them, and you hurry to dispel the tension. “I mean, you’re all very good-looking,” you laugh. “It’d be impossible not to notice each other.” 

Sirius seems on board with your plan of levity, falling easily into his default flirtatiousness. “Yeah, gorgeous? Do you notice as well?”

For a second, your mouth works without sound, your thoughts flittering about your head like frenetic butterflies. You’re sure your face is turning a humiliating color. “I—I mean, like I said, it’s hard not to.” You clear your throat. “You don’t get to be the golden boys of Gryffindor for nothing.” 

“And here I thought it was our brains.” Sirius grins, letting you out the trap he’d unintentionally ensnared you in. “Well, if we’re known for our looks, then it makes sense why you’re part of the group too.” 

It takes you a second to catch his meaning, but you don’t miss Remus’ tiny nod of agreement. 

“Wait a minute,” James says, still looking between the lot of you like he’s refereeing a particularly perplexing tennis match. “So…Sirius and…who all here likes who?”

You go mute, as do the other boys. 

James nods, and he’s sticking his tongue in his cheek like he does when he’s nervous, but the set of his brows is resolved. “Okay, I can go first. I fancy each of you.” 

You look over at Remus and Sirius, but neither of them appear as shocked as you’d think the profession would warrant. Sirius opens his mouth like he has something to say, then shuts it again. 

“Trust me, I feel very weird about it,” James goes on anxiously. “I just wasn’t sure—”

“No, it’s alright.” Remus leans forward slightly, looking like he would reach out and comfort James if he were close enough. “I’ve…I’ve had similar thoughts.”

Sirius has ceased his toying with Remus’ hand, but he doesn’t let it go, looking down at their joined fingers. “Me too,” he says, not quietly but noticeably lower than his normal half-shouting volume.

“I never…I don’t really understand it all the way,” you admit. “But I think I like each of you too.” 

There’s another agonizing silence. Remus starts to brush his thumb gently over Sirius’ knuckles. 

“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” you say finally. “I see you two together, and I’m not jealous at all. But I like you both.” You look over at James, and your face hasn’t cooled at all, but it gets a new wave of heat now. “And you, too.” 

James gives you a little smile, and it’s like he can’t help himself, reaching over to give your shoulder a tiny squeeze. 

“I don’t think,” Remus says carefully, “that there’s anything wrong with that. I mean, it’s not like any of us doesn’t like anyone else, apparently. Just…what do we do about it?”

You and James exchange a look, but this suddenly feels like something you shouldn’t intervene in. You’re both single, but Remus and Sirius aren’t. 

“Well,” Sirius drawls with a nonchalance that’s definitely forced but so familiar that you’re grateful for it anyway, “if it’s alright with you, I think I’d like to date.” 

“You are dating,” you point out. 

Sirius shoots you a mocking look. “Date all of you, smart-ass.” 

James lets out a little laugh, and you smile a bit at Sirius’ brashness. The both of you look to Remus. 

Remus only shrugs as if you’ve asked him to comment on the weather. “S’alright with me.” 

James really does laugh now, the loud, hooting sound you love so much. “It’s alright? You really do know how to make someone feel special, Moons.” 

“Fuck off,” Remus laughs. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Um, that we’re the most attractive people you’ve ever seen and nothing would make you happier?”

“Well there you go, James. You’ve said it for me.” 

The laughter dies out, the new awkwardness of more-than-friends settling over the four of you. 

“Well shit,” Sirius says after a minute. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. “You’re the only ones who have been in a relationship, what do you guys do?”

Sirius looks at Remus, and Remus looks back. 

“What do we do?” Sirius whispers to him. “Do we…we go on dates sometimes, yeah?”

Remus nods, one corner of his lips twitching amusedly. 

Sirius turns back to you and James, nodding decisively. “A date,” he announces. “Pick you all up in, uh, our common room at eight?” 

“Eight is good for me,” James says, grinning so hugely you can’t help but smile with him. “Now, if we’re all done being weird—Y/N, lovely, could you help me with this charms homework? I’m dying over here.” 

You scooch closer to him, peering at his parchment and wondering if now you can stop cataloging all the places your bodies touch, your shoulder brushing his upper arm. 

“It looks fine to me,” you say after a moment. 

“I know, sorry” James replies, leaning into you so that the warmth of his arm seeps into your skin. “It was a charade.”

[justmeinatree]

05 - Woke Up Still Dreaming

Summary : Part 5 to Let Passion Get Too Much … niall x louis x reader threesome

previous part /// jump to pt. 1

TW : smut, choking, double penetration, spitting, spanking, subspace

Word Count : 7k

A/N : this chapter takes place hours after THIS EXTRA - it’s not absolutely necessary to read although it may answer a few questions as to how their relationship seemed to jump so quickly !

GIFs : unknown - msg for credit

louis isn’t sure the exact thing that woke him up. whether it be the soft pecks of your lips against his, or the quiet, melodic calling of his name, or your nails gently scratching at his scalp. what ever it was, he couldn’t complain in the slightest. 

that is, until he cracks his eyes open, the soft golden glow of early morning streaming through niall’s sheer white curtains. it was much too early. too fucking early for people that didn’t get to sleep until sometime past 4am. “time s’it, love,” louis croaks, his eyes fluttering shut again.

a small giggle leaves your lips, a happy, playful, sweetness to it, one that’s reserved for those early hours, one that louis is tucking away as a core memory because it was just so damn cute. “just about 7am,” you whisper, pecking over his bottom lip again.

“christ, darling, ya couldn’t wait a bit ?” he groans quietly, his hands scrubbing at his eyes, almost painfully, pulling himself from sleep.

“i really hope you like morning sex,” you murmur, nibbling against his lip now, pulling his mouth open just enough for your tongue to slip through, and lick against his own, pulling a quiet breathy moan from him.

“you have full permission to smack me if i ever turn down an offer from you,” he hums, as you throw your thigh over his waist, his hands falling on your hips, fingers digging into your skin.

“you’re sappy in the morning,” you giggle, breathing against his lips, before dipping back in for more kisses. 

he breathes a laugh against your lips, letting himself get lost in the kiss, his hands exploring your body, finding that you’d stripped down your pants at some point, currently only wearing panties and a thin tank top. 

one hand rounds down your hip, over your bum, and up your thigh to your knee, holding your leg in place over his hips, his other hand settled right on your ass, squeezing.

you groan, shuffling impossibly closer to him, in search of any sort of friction. “and you’re needy in the morning,” louis hums, trying to hold you down, trying to wake up, trying to keep up. but his brain was always a little fuzzy with you, and well he’s barely slept, and throw in last night’s admissions, and your cunt is dangerously close to finding out that he’s already quite hard. and really, he just needs to breathe.

“c’mon, darling, slow down,” louis whispers against your lips, “we have all the time in the world,” he adds, hoping that the prospect of lengthy, lazy, slow early morning sex would win you over. 

but instead, he’s met with a disgruntled groan, and a shake of your head, teeth sinking into the plushness of his bottom lip, “m’already going slow,” you speak, actions contradicting your words as your hips grind down again, harder, a bit faster, your clit colliding with the hard tip of his prick.

a smirk pulls at your lips, shaking your head again, although more playfully this time, pulling away from his mouth to lock eyes with him, a silent conversation between the two of you. 

and a moment later, your thigh was off his hips, your hands on the waistband of his pants, pulling them clean off his legs, boxers following suit just as quickly. in your rush to get onto him, you’d almost forgotten your panties, something you’re thankful that louis catches. his hands fall delicately on your hips, thumbs tickling your skin, still making any sort of effort to slow you down, even if just a little bit.

louis slowly glides his hands, fingers splayed out, selfishly trying to touch as much of you as possible, bringing your thin panties down your legs in the process. he notices the tremor run through your body, following his hands, an eruption of goosebumps left behind in their wake. he watches the sticky line of your arousal still attached from your pussy to your panties, thinning out the more he pulls them down. he feels like he’s looking at someone almost ethereal, with the way the golden glimmer of morning sun makes your skin glow, makes your arousal glisten, it takes his breath away. he really doesn’t think he’s ever been this lucky.

as soon as your panties were off, you threw yourself onto him, louis landing back onto the mattress with a soft thud, your legs on either side of his hips, straddling him, elbows supporting yourself on the mattress, above louis’ shoulders, your hands buried in his hair. 

instantly, your lips are back on his, grinding yourself down over his bare length. your cunt was soaked, slit spread over his cock, gliding effortlessly with every roll of your hips.

your fingers were wrapped tightly into louis’ hair, gripping at the roots, his nails leaving deep indents in the skin of your hips, as a particular roll of your hips made the tip of his cock press up into your clit one moment, getting caught on your entrance the next. 

neither of you were quite sure how it happened, especially without the use of hands, but louis’ hips had lifted clean off the bed, taking you along with him, cock pressed snuggly against you, and with your pussy absolutely drenched, his length painfully hard, the angle just right, he was sinking inside you.

your mouth falls open, breath knocked clean out of your lungs, forehead falling forward onto louis’, eyes rolled back as you struggle to catch your breath. 

a soft groan grumbles deep in his chest, his hands pressing into your hips, holding you, trapping you down onto him, his prick seethed deep inside you, not letting you move an inch. he could feel you splitting open for him, could feel you spasming around his cock, could feel you desperately trying to move. and if he let you, he was instantly going to cum. and he was not about to let that happen. not when he’d just gotten you back onto him. 

in an effort to distract himself, one of his hands leaves you, blindly swatting in the space occupied by niall, eventually colliding with his head, leaving a series of small smacks.

but he’s met with nothing more than an annoyed grumble from niall, and a few laughable swats back in his sleepy state. louis rolls his eyes, gripping hard into niall’s hair, giving a sharp tug.

“fuckin hell,” niall quips, “what do you wan-“ he cuts himself off as he finally turns his head, eyes peaking open, taking in the scene in front of him, a soft, sleepy, sighing chuckle escaping his lips.

“one of those mornings, pet ?” niall murmurs, every bit of malice in his tone completely wiped away, giving louis the impression that morning sex is clearly a definite regular occurence. 

niall’s fingertips reach out for your arm, gliding up and down softly, soothingly. you whimper against louis’ lips, nodding your head to niall’s question, your pussy clenching particularly hard at the tickling smoothness of his fingers on your warmed skin. louis lets out a whimpery moan, one he couldn’t hold in, even if he’d tried, the grip on his prick so unexpected, his teeth biting into your lip.

niall eyes the both of you, unable to see your hips under the blanket, his eyes settling on you, “y’already sitting on him, petal ?” he asks softly, hooking his finger under your chin, making louis’ teeth slip from its grip on your lip, forcing you to look up at him.

“mhmm,” you nod, as best you can with a finger holding your chin, feeling the soft press of niall’s lips against the tip of your nose, breathing quietly, “really missed him didn’t you ?”

you were nodding again, tilting your head back to reach for niall’s lips, his falling on yours effortlessly. almost like the pull of magnets. his large hand falls on your jaw, thumb spread out to rub on the apple of your cheek, right below your eye, his pinky splayed out on your neck.

he takes his time enjoying the kiss, before pulling away from you slightly, eyes flicking over to louis, nodding his head for him to lift himself from the mattress, which he does swiftly, connecting their lips as well. 

you watch them take a moment for themselves, niall’s hand holding louis from the nape of his neck, before pulling away, and sitting himself back on his calves. you and louis could both see that he had a plan working in his brain, one that you were both about to question when you feel the press of niall’s hand against the middle of your back, forcing you and louis back into your original position. and then, he disappears under the blankets. 

you were left more confused, until niall grips onto louis’ hands, placing them on your bum, his fingers reaching down to where your ass met your thighs, niall making him grip into you, spreading you open. 

the next thing louis is made aware of, is a loud moan breathed onto his lips, your cunt spasming around him, “christ, what’s he doing to you, darling ?”

but you couldn’t answer, your head was spinning, niall’s tongue flicking hard against your hole, exposed to him thanks to louis’ grip. and just as quickly as he’d started, he was pulling away. you whined, stuffing your face into louis’ neck, noting the breath leaving him, his head tipping back, breathy “oh fuck,” leaving his parted lips as his back curls slightly. your eyebrows furrow, lifting your head from the comfort of louis’ neck, giving him a questioning glance, “what’s he doing ?”

“he’s got-“ louis starts, cutting himself off, niall giving a particularly hard suck around the testicle sitting in his mouth. louis is panting, his head absolutely swimming, the feeling intensifying when niall’s hands join louis’ on your lower bum, forcing you to start riding him. slowly. so fucking slowly. he felt borderline delirious, and he fucking loved it. christ, maybe he was going to regret wanting things slow. 

the way louis’ cock was rolling into you, the way it was so fucking smooth, the way it felt like he was impaling you, his tip pressing into your sweet spot deliciously, steadily, heavily. your brain was flying, body trembling from the languid strokes of his dick along your inner walls, unable to move much more than what niall was controlling.

niall pops off louis, flattening his tongue, timing his actions just as he makes you slowly rise, thrusts still deliriously paced, taking a long lick from the base of louis’ cock, up to your hole, flicking your ring of muscles again.

both you and louis moan out loudly, his fingers digging into your bum harder, your face picking itself up from the comforts of his neck to smash your lips against his, panting against his mouth. you were a whimpery, whiny, trembling mess. louis struggling not to buck up hard into you, fighting within himself since the scene was just so fucking good as is. 

it’s a rhythm niall’s taken an obvious liking to, his tongue working in tandem with the thrusts he was implementing, licking up louis’ cock just as you pull up, tongue falling onto your sensitive hole as you sit back down on louis’ prick. 

he was losing his fucking mind. louis was sure of it. he’s not sure he’s ever felt such, such- christ even he’s not so sure there’s a word for it. but it’s got his toes curling, and his fingers gripping, and his back arching, and his head tipping back, even his fucking eyes were rolling. 

and niall noticed. was not about to let this happen so soon. not when he was enjoying this so fucking much. loved all the noises he was able to pull from the two of you. loved all the body tremors. the pure neediness seeping out of the both of you. 

so on the next lift of your hips, niall pulls you clean off louis’ prick, hearing the sharp inhale from you, and the loudly desperate groan from louis, his fingers almost ripping at your skin. your nails dug deep into louis’ scalp, cunt clenching over nothing, a small spurt of liquid squirting from your pussy, getting both louis’ cock and niall’s face.

niall never, in a million years, thought he’d be lunging mouth first at someone’s cock, but he guesses life is meant to surprise you. watching louis’ length dripping with both your arousal and your squirt was all he needed for his brain to go blank, and for his body to take over without thought. 

his mouth sinks down on louis’ dick, as best he can considering he’s never done anything remotely close to this before, sucking up as much of your taste as he can, revelling in the heady, musty mix of louis’ flavour. 

one of louis’ hands shoots out to grip niall’s hair, tugging hard, “fuckin christ, this isn’t gonna stop me cumming, mate.”

niall breathes a chuckle as he slides off of louis’ prick, “know i love to taste, can’t help myself,” he hums, feigning innocence, taking a few more licks and another bob of his mouth for good measure. and with his eyes zeroed in on your dripping entrance, he helps himself to a quick lap of his tongue, before sliding louis’ cock back inside you. 

you moan out loud, your face falling into louis’ neck again, mouthing at his stubbly jaw, his head tipping back to give you more access. he was panting, his hand leaving niall’s hair, falling back onto your bum.

niall catches the small twitches in louis’ fingers, the restlessness of his legs, somehow understanding exactly what he’s silently asking, niall tapping his fingers against the back of louis’ hand, something they both seem to understand. like a code they’ve never even discussed.

and so louis’ hand leaves the swell of your ass, landing a hard smack, your mouth instantly falling open, breath knocked clear from your lungs, your body curling up slightly, as best as it could in the position you were being held in. 

it seemed to calm louis a bit, the edge taken off, as he fights to release. to hold off. to fucking anything. “kiss me, darling, please” he breathes, trying to reach your mouth, needing something to tether himself to, especially since niall’s started the languid lapping of his tongue again. up and down and up and down, a rhythmic flow that’s driving him absolutely mental, timed with the trusts, and fucking hell he’s never felt so prickly, so tingly, so god damn heated. 

you were trying to kiss him, trying to suckle at his lips, but your jaw kept slacking on its own accord, the kiss somehow turning into more of a panting in each other’s mouths, and you think you were revelling in it. both of you were. in the intimacy of random pecks wherever they may land, sharing breath, sharing moans, and then louis was itching again. needed to do something. needed, needed.

he doesn’t know what kind of primal reaction came over him, he doesn’t even know if his brain was in on it, but your mouth was hanging open, and it was right fucking there, and he just needed to have some kind of control. some kind of something.

the next thing he knew, his head was lifting just slightly to have a more direct angle at you. your eyebrows furrowed, confused as to how he even has the power to lift his head at the moment. that is until his eyes locked on your mouth, spit flying onto your tongue. 

your eyes flutter shut, whimpery moan breathed out, pulling his head closer to yours, foreheads resting together. you swallow quickly, panting quietly, “again,” your jaw slacking, tongue sticking out, another dribble of saliva smacking onto your tongue. and you were cumming.

louis’ eyes roll back, his body falling onto the mattress, fingernails dug so deep into your ass, the clench of your orgasm so tight. too tight. fuck, he can’t. he’s not sure this was exactly his plan, but his grip was so rough, he pulled you clean off of him, another rush of liquid gushing from you. 

and when louis feels it splashing over his prick, he can’t help but cum as well.

niall’s eyes go wide, mouth falling on louis’ prick instantly, sucking and swallowing down every spurt enthusiastically. he’s really always loved to taste. 

louis moans loudly, back arching, lifting you with him, his hands finally leaving your poor bruised bum, gliding up your back, holding you to him tightly, hips lifting in a quick thrust, tip hitting the back of niall’s throat. 

the gagging. fuck, it’s so tight around his prick again. from your clenching cunt to niall’s spasming throat. louis is seriously going to lose his mind. very soon. he needed to calm down, needed to ground himself somehow. christ, he felt like he was high. high on nothing but the two of you.

niall pops off louis’ cock, taking another smooth lick at your weepy cunt, before wiggling his way out of the blankets, taking in the state of both of you since he’d started his ministrations. 

he’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t quite this level of fucked out for the both of you. a smirk can’t help but pull at his lips, almost proud of himself for being able to render you both into a puddle of goo in the middle of his bed. a scene he’ll definitely store under lock and key, the golden streams of sunlight filtering through his billowing curtains, the window cracked from last night. goosebumps littering both you and louis, the glimmering rays making you both glisten with sweat, chests panting, eyes heavy. he’s never seen something so beautiful.

he reaches out to run his fingertips along your exposed back, up and over louis’ arm, to his shoulder. “feeling good ?” he murmurs quietly, the moment feeling incredibly soft, not wanting to disrupt the fairly soundless moment. 

louis smiles, his head rolling heavily towards niall, nodding, breathing out a “yeah,” his eyes shining. fucking shining at him. and niall thinks his heart actually bursts.

and then he catches the soft crinkles by your eyes, telltale sign that you were smiling, something he could tell even if your face was mostly hidden in louis’ shoulder. that is, until you raise your head to properly look at niall, and god fucking christ, he’s not sure what he’s done to have his two favourite people look at him like he’s actually hung each star in the sky, one by one, just for them, but he’s soaking this moment in. has to. his eyes flicking from yours to louis’, drinking you both in. 

he leans down on his elbow, laying sideways next to the both of you, pecking oh so gently over your lips, revelling in the softness of the moment. niall spends a moment getting lost in your mouth, before turning his attention to a very patient louis, landing a deep, slow kiss to his lips as well. 

it’s when niall stretches a bit to go from your mouth to louis’, that his rock hard prick bumps into your hip, and you realize how neglected his cock must feel.

you sit yourself up, your bum rested against louis’ thighs, looking down at niall’s tented boxers. you bite your lip when you note the wet patch, dribbles of precum staining a small spot right at his tip. he looked painfully hard. so much so, that you really feel bad for him. 

niall pulls away from louis when he’s noticed that you’ve shifted, both of them looking over at you questioningly. that is, until louis notes that you’re staring right at the tent in niall’s briefs, “we’re not done,” he chuckles, taking a long look himself, before smirking up at niall.

“can take a break if ya need,” niall hums, “both look tired.”

but there’s some sort of awakening, some sort of adrenaline running through your veins, as you and louis lock eyes with a mischievous glint in your gazes. so louis decides to follow niall’s lead from earlier, landing his hand in the middle of his chest, making niall lay back onto the bed, stripping him of his boxers, spreading his thighs open wide.

you and louis get yourselves situated between niall’s legs, louis going in for the first lick, his tongue flat, almost slightly wrapped around niall’s girth, stroking its way up his shaft, flicking over the tip. 

the moment louis’ tongue lost contact with niall’s cock, your tongue was on him, doing the same thing louis was, taking a long lick from base to tip. 

you kept trading off, treating niall’s prick like a popsicle, licking up the dribbles on a hot summer day, swirling around, sucking along, nipping lightly, flicking expertly. and niall was losing himself. not just in the feel, but in the opportunity to watch the both of you between his legs, watch you both licking over his length like you were fuckin starved for it. it had him panting, groaning, whining, toes curling, struggling to keep his eyes from falling, not wanting to miss a single second, reaching down to grip each of you, tugging on your roots.

“fuckin luckiest guy in the world,” he breathes quietly, more to himself, but it doesn’t go unnoticed to either of you, louis’ gaze flicking up to niall’s with a playful smirk pulling at his lips.

“let me have a minute, love ?” louis murmurs, gaze returned to you, having a silent conversation, something he was getting good at with both you and niall, assuming the inclined physical and emotional contact having a hand in the matter. 

he waits until your tongue’s flicked over niall’s tip, his mouth opening wide and sliding down his length, throat giving way effortlessly until his nose is pressed tight around niall’s lower belly. 

“fuckin hell,” niall hisses, his grasp on louis’ hair tightening exponentially, back curling, panting along with the sucking of his mouth, the stroking of his tongue, the constricting of his throat. 

louis lets himself enjoy a few bobs of his head, pulling off niall’s cock, watching you lick up the mix of spit and dribbles of precum, dripping their way down his shaft.

“can’t tell me it’s your first time,” niall breathes a chuckle, blinking back to reality as he catches his breath, enjoying the soft licks you were providing as a way to calm himself a bit. 

“no idea what you were missing on bus one, mate,” louis laughs, his breath hitting niall’s prick, making a shiver run through him.

“wha-“ niall’s head shoots up to look at louis properly, watch him take a few licks himself, “never told me that, ya fucker. you and-“ he’s cut off by louis’ hand smacking over his mouth, with a shake of his head, a small smile pulling at his lips, “s’like 8 lifetimes ago, ni. just glad the practice paid off,” he giggles, pulling his hand away, joining you again. 

niall hums quietly, letting his head fall back, letting himself get lost in the feel of both of you again. the scene in front of him was like one from a dream. the best fucking dream he’s ever had. it’s an image he’d never get tired of, that he knows for sure. his prick standing tall, tongues fighting for a chance to stroke him impossibly harder, mouths falling onto him, sucking his cock down. he was in heaven, he was sure of it. he’d never felt better, more satiated, more powerful, more blessed. 

hell, there was even something about just watching the two of you, the connection you both seemed to have, the little glances you’d steal, the way your tongues would mend together whenever the opportunity arises.

even the moments where you and louis would get a little too lost in each other, tongues too busy stroking over one another, sucking on each other, had niall in a chokehold. it made his heart burst in ways he could never explain. almost like something clicking in his brain. like adding louis to the mix somehow made everything even better. christ, he never thought it could get better, it was already perfect. he doesn’t quite know what’s better than perfect, but he’s sure he’s standing in it right now.

but the more he was watching, the more his skin began prickling, itching for more. he was heated, held on the edge of blissful pleasure, never quite enough to bring him right to where he was so desperately craving. 

“petal,” niall whispers, his fingers leaving your hair to stroke down the side of your face, down your cheek to your jaw, giving a little rub along your chin to really grab your attention.

when your gaze flicks from louis’ to look up at niall, you can see it. see the desperation seeping out of him. it also seemed like the moment that your brain kicked in, noting that he’s been getting increasingly fidgety, something that made you crawl up his body, letting louis take the reigns again, his mouth sinking down on niall’s length.

“what’s wrong, ni ?” you hum softly, nose bumping against his, as he gasps, louis obviously taking great care of him as you check in.

his mouth closes around your bottom lip, whimpering quietly, nipping at your skin, “how are you feeling, love ?” he questions breathily, holding you tightly against him. 

and you knew exactly what he wanted, what he was truly asking with that question, something that made your lips quirk up into a smile, nodding happily. you knew he wanted your cunt, wanted to check that you were okay to do so. wanted to be wrapped by your smooth inner walls, tight and absolutely drenched, just for him. “want to, want you,” you clarify, pressing your body closer to his, tongues mingling together, a loud groan echoing in your mouth, shooting straight down to your pussy, silently thanking louis and whatever he was doing.

“c’mere you,” niall mumbles, tugging on louis’ hair, growing ever more desperate for more. just fucking more. he’s kept the pace slow all this time, and although morning sex usually screams this type of momentum, he’s fucking breaking.

with a loud, wet pop, louis’ mouth leaves niall’s dick, coming up to press a chaste kiss to niall’s jaw as he lays next to him, “feeling good there nialler ?” 

“too good,” niall laughs softly, “need mo-“ he cuts himself off with a hiss, feeling your pussy open up and slide right down his length, hands shooting out to grip your hips bruisingly. “fucking hell, pet,” he gasps, back arching off the bed, “warn a lad, will ya ?”

he’s met with nothing more than a giggle from you, followed by a satisfied hum, biting on your bottom lip, hips starting to grind back and forth, forward and backwards.

niall groans loudly, his eyes fluttering shut, helping you keep up the rhythm you’ve created, “that’s it, pretty girl. fuck, that’s it,” he mewls, breathing deeply, almost purring as he does so. the spasming of your cunt, squeezing his cock tightly, almost sucking him in, dripping down his thighs with your arousal, it was enough to send niall spinning. this is exactly what he’d been waiting for.

watching your head tip back, your jaw slack, feeling his prick bob heavily back and forth inside you, pressing into your sweet spot with every rut of your hips, sensitive little button grinding over his lower abdomen, you were blissed out as well. you could feel both of their eyes on you, brain too fuzzy to really care, your hips keeping up their rhythm, panting into the air, hands gripped into niall’s forearms.

his head slowly turns to the side, eyes blinking up at louis, “c’mon, don’t be shy.”

louis’ not sure he’s ever seen niall look quite so fucked out. his eyes were heavy, breathing shallowed, muscles jittering. a stark contrast for the lad that usually has everything under control. and you. fuck, you were like something right out of a movie. you were glowing in the morning light, face tipped back in pure ecstasy, beads of sweat running down in the valley of your breasts. he was in awe of you. both of you. plus, he’s always been fascinated by your connection…

“s’it weird if i just watch for a bit ?” he finds himself asking, figuring if there’s anyone he knows that won’t look at him like he’s actually a sick fuck, it’s the two of you. and it’s not that sick really, is the frustrating part, but anyways.

thankfully, he’s met with a large smile spreading across your face, niall’s breath hitching, groaning, “think she likes that idea,” having felt the clench of your cunt at the mere thought of a spectator. 

“yeah ?” louis coos, tongue darting out for a quick lick between your breasts, unable to help himself at a little taste of you again. 

“mhmm,” you shudder, a shiver running through your body, niall’s grip on you tightening, pussy trembling on him, in time with your tremors. 

“and what about you ?” louis asks, turning his attention to niall, face hovering a bit over his, looking over his features.

“just don’t want you feeling weird about any of it,” niall whispers, wanting to check in on him. he knows how jealous louis can get, and he’s been kicking himself for not checking on him more. he’s not going to let it happen again. with one hand leaving your hip, his fingertips gently stroke over louis’ forearm in comfort.

but louis’ shaking his head, and leaning down to peck at niall’s lips, “i want this, want to see how strong you two are, how fucking hot you two are without me,” he chuckles, “seriously, just wanna see how it is, what it is i’m striving for with you guys.”

and niall thinks for a moment, that something’s clicked in louis’ brain as well. without much of a second thought beyond that, his fingers are leaving louis’ arm, reaching out for his jaw, pulling him in for a proper kiss.

you watch them interact, feeling the twitches in niall’s hips as you notice louis’ tongue stroking his, notice the flutters in niall’s stomach muscles as louis grips his hair tighter. hear the little grunts leaving louis’ chest as niall sucks on his tongue. fuck, it was getting you off. 

niall could feel it, could feel the telltale way your cunt started clenching. instantly his mouth was pulled away from louis’, hand darting out for your throat, fingers pressing into your skin tightly, “don’t you fucking dare.”

your eyes open wide, fixated on niall’s, as you start panting, trying to calm yourself. you were already going fuzzy, but with the sheer command in niall’s voice, the lack of oxygen to your brain, the complete exhaustion of a sleepless night, your mind was floating, skin was prickling, and you needed to do as he said. another option didn’t seem to exist at the moment.

your hips stilled, as you focus on breathing, body trembling, muscles twitching, slowly regulating yourself, pushing your orgasm at bay, eyes locked on niall’s the entire time, like a form of pure grounding, one that could calm you right down, no matter how commanding the tone was. 

“s’a good girl,” he praises, smiling at you, fingers loosening their grip, index stroking the column of your throat, “such a fuckin good girl,” he coos quietly.

louis was once again, absolutely rock hard, cock standing tall, and christ, he’s only been watching you two for a couple of minutes. he’d never seen something so god damn hot. he’s watched his fair share of porn, but nothing came close to being privy to this.  

niall could tell the moment your eyes opened, the moment the shift happened, with his hand wrapped around your throat, could tell how far you were floating. he pushes himself up into a sitting position, pecking along the side of your neck, your jaw, your ear, murmuring, “m’gonna take over, pet. can you give me a colour ?”

he was patient about it, coaxing an answer out of you with every delicate kiss, until he heard the breathy, satiated, comfortable puff, “green.”

and there was the shift in niall, quickly pulling you off your comfortable seat that is his prick, positioning you like a rag doll. your pliancy in these moments was something niall was always grateful for, folding you over so that your face and chest were pressed into the mattress, lifting your hips high into the air.

instantly, his cock was nestled back into you, making you gasp loudly, arms stretching out above you, hands gripped tightly into the sheets, tugging as niall’s hips pull back slowly, impaling you the next moment, feeling his dick so fucking deep inside you. he does it a few more times, before picking up the pace, hands holding onto your hips to keep you in place.

your ears were ringing so loudly, you weren’t all too sure what sounds were coming out of you, nor did you have half the mind to care, but if you focus enough, you can pick up your whiny moans, and breathy gasps. your face was being pressed into the sheets below you, niall’s palms pressed into the swell of your ass, fingers gripping, using it as a hold on you, hips held in place.

“left some marks, tommo,” niall grunts between thrusts, your bum pulled up by his hold, splatter of bruises all over the underside of your cheeks, a mix of fingerprints and scratches littering your skin.

louis turns over on the bed, feet now aimed up above your head, laying on his side, supported by his elbow, peeking over and noticing the dark blue and purple pattern, bright red, slightly raised scratches. he’s not sure how to feel. his hand reaches out instinctually, fingertips delicately lining up with some of the bruises, almost as if needing to confirm for himself that it was, indeed, his own hand. 

he feels the pure hot heat coming off of your skin, making him flinch lightly, pulling his hand away, “fuck, m’sorry, darling. did i hurt you ?”

but he’s met with nothing more than niall’s hand falling on his shoulder, shaking his head, “ask her that later,” he groans, biting his lip, your cunt squeezing him like a vice, “she- fuck, she can’t answer that right now.”

it’s moments like these that louis’ learned to make a solid mental note about. he’s learning. learning you. how to be with you, how to care for you, how to grow the bond. 

“she’s fine though,” niall fills in, swatting fairly hard, right where louis left the worst of the bruises, a loud guttural groan punctured from your lungs, grip in the sheets tightening, nails close to ripping through the fabric. your chest presses harder against the bed, bum lifting on its own accord, in an effort to search for more, pushing itself into niall’s hand, almost obediently so.

niall chuckles breathily, biting his lip for a moment as he takes a deep breath through his nose, “fuckin perfect girl,” he curses, landing another spank, on the same side, over the same spot. 

you mewled, your back arching impossibly more, surely a move that would cause you pain later, right as another quick smack falls on your bum, this time on the other side. a move that makes you almost purr, legs trembling, one of your hands pulling down, tucking your arm under your face in comfort, elbow bumping into louis on the way.

it’s the first time you realize he’s so close, eyes blinking open, noting his thighs, his prick fairly close to your face, still watching where niall’s cock is disappearing inside you. without much thought, your mouth opens, taking his tip in your mouth, tongue swirling.

louis gasps loudly, a quick moan following his initial shock, niall’s eyes opening and falling on your mouth, wrapped around louis’ cock. niall quickly lands a hard smack against your ass, your jaw slackening, wailing around louis’ length.

“did i fuckin tell you to do that ?” niall growls, watching you instantly slide off his shaft, mouth leaving with a pop, and a small whine.

he reaches down, grasping your hair, pulling you up onto your knees, back pressed to his chest, head falling to his shoulder. it was too heavy for you to hold up anyway. 

niall’s arms wrap themselves around you, tucking his face against your shoulder, holding you tightly to him, hands grasping your breasts, your hips, your arms, unable to get enough of you, taking a moment to drink you in. he takes a big breath in your neck, leaving a series of pecks, eyes flicking over to meet louis’, “c’mere.”

and louis can see it in his eyes, sees that the scene is about to come to an end, something he’s always cued from niall, something he just seems to know, always. so louis slides himself under the two of you, his cock so painfully hard, standing tall right below your entrance, hands falling onto your thighs, silently letting you know that he’s right there too.

one of your hands leaves it’s grip in niall’s arm, falling to grip onto louis’ hand. when louis’ eyes flick to your entwined fingers, he swears he can almost see your tummy jumping softly in time with niall’s thrusts. 

with your hand in his, he slides over to that spot on your lower abdomen, his palm pressed to the back of your hand, and you could both feel it, feel the steady bomp, bomp, bomp of niall’s cock. it sent your mind reeling even more, something so fucking intimate about feeling someone inside you like that.

“fuck, fuck,” niall groans loudly, feeling your cunt squeeze down on him, orgasm rippling through you, the grip on him bringing on his own high quickly. too quickly. niall was not ready. he pulls you off of his prick, mid-high, pussy spasming around nothing, strong gush leaving your centre.

just as quickly as you’re pulled off of niall’s cock, you were being seated on louis’, a loud groan leaving him, your still cumming cunt sucking him in, constricting around him tightly. the move makes you fall forward, hands landing on either side of louis’ head, forehead dipped to his, panting against his mouth, jaw slacked open, still trembling from your high without any time to recover.

niall’s panting, holding off his high, hand delicately falling on your back, “colour, pet,” he whispers, his other hand against louis’ thigh, silent warning not to move yet. no matter how hard it may be. and then, there it was, the hushed breath, “green.”

louis’ hips instantly buck into you, feet planted on the mattress, hips picking up right where niall had left off, a blinding pace, something that louis was silently grateful for. the slowness he was searching for, however many hours ago, had been long satiated. 

the harsh pace, switched up angle of louis being below you, you could feel the warmth spreading from your belly to your extremities, prickling, tingly heat, and for a moment, you’re not even sure your last orgasm even really finished as this one starts to come on.

a drawn-out groan from louis, tightening grip of his fingertips into your hip, was all niall needed to know that you were cumming again, wailing mewl leaving the both of you as he pulls you off of louis’ cock, too fast for louis to quite get where he wanted to be, feet kicking out in frustration. a long spurt of liquid gushed from you again, barely having time to finish before niall’s cock glides right into you, sharp gasp coming from niall’s lungs.

he grips you from your throat, lifting you up to rest against him again, niall a panting mess against your shoulder. he reaches over your hip, lining up louis’ cock with your entrance, alongside his, “colour,” he sighs, trying to catch his breath, trying to hold himself back, but fuck your cunt was absolutely screaming at him, squeezing him, sucking on him. fuck.

“green.”

louis bucks up immediately, your cunt so fucking soaked, he had no issues sliding right in, stuffed deep alongside niall, all three of you with your jaws slackened, panting, mewling, gasping, whining, fuck no one was really sure anymore. and then when niall’s hand tightens around your throat, your pussy clenches hard, a sob leaving your lips as you tremble through another orgasm, constant stream of clear liquid leaving you, milking their orgasms with the squeezing of your centre.

niall’s hold on you tightens as he comes down from his high, pecking delicately over your shoulder, murmuring loud enough for louis to head, “we’re gonna pull out, petal. get you cozy, perfect girl.”

and you assume they do just that, as by the time that you float back to proper consciousness, you were sandwiched between them, their hands gently stroking your skin, both taking turns telling you how perfect you are, how much they love you, how happy they are with all of you here together. it was sweet, it was soft, it was filled with kisses and sweet licks. you could feel the warmth of the day lulling you back, the sunlight having shifted long ago from the early morning glow, to the mid morning brightness. 

you take a deep breath, eyes fluttering open, niall smiling up at you, noting the telltale puff of air, “hello beautiful,” he murmurs quietly, not wanting to startle you. he’s met with a beautifully soft, content smile, and a ruffle of his hair. louis smiling at you as well, offering a small, lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw. 

with your return to the real world, the promise that you were okay, comfortably placed between them, the sleepiness returns quickly, adrenaline of the moment having worn off. nobody’s sure who it was that nodded off first, but the gentle rubs were dwindling down to nothing, all of your limbs touching in some way, tangled together, in a soothing pile on niall’s bed, louis breathing out quietly, “m’definitely gonna get used to this.”

Part 6

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

tags : @cc-horan28 @acesofspadess @slutforcoffein @blondedmgc @daphnesutton

[charlessainzz]

Jealous Jealous Boy

alright here's the lando fic I promised. thanks to those that voted in the poll!

He was fuming. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. His fists clenched into balls at his side. His face twisted up with a sour look. It was all going according to plan. This was his karma.

This was not how you had envisioned your night going. You had started the night glued to your boyfriend, Lando. You both were yearning for a fun night dancing with your friends after a stressful race week. But here you were. On opposite ends of the bar mad at each other. If only he had kept his cheeky mouth shut. 

Within an hour of the night, Lando had basically overindulged himself. Meaning…. His mouth doesn’t shut and he has no idea what’s coming out of it. What had happened was just a simple, stupid comment. But he made it and thought about it and that’s what stung. It was a comment about your new dress. You had already felt self conscious in it since it was more risque than usual. While sitting with your friends, Lando looks at another girl and points rather loudly, “Look babe! That girl’s dress is way prettier for you than what you have on! Ask her where she got it!”. You could feel your face melting off as the whole group’s eyes turned to you. That’s when you push him off your shoulders and stomped to the bar currently placing us in the current situation….

Knowing his eyes were on you, you continue to chat with the random guy at the bar. That’s when you feel his hand go lower and lower towards your bum. Suddenly, you hear chairs scrape across the bar as Lando and his friends sprang up from their seats and rushed towards you and the touchy rando. Before the boys reach you, your hand snatches the bar mans and throws it off your body. You pick up your drink and splash him in the face with your spicy margarita. The boys freeze to a stop doubling over with laughter. The random man wipes his face, nods, and walks away. Maybe a bit harsh coming from you but he had no right! 

Lando slides next to you and gives you an uneasy smile. Holding his hands up he says, “Please ma’am don’t murder me with a margarita!”. You can’t help but give in and laugh. But then his comment comes back to your mind and you feel nauseous again. Lando can see the change in emotions and drops his head into his hands. 

“Y/n, please don’t be mad at me. I wasn’t trying to be mean. I could tell you didn’t love being in this dress and I just wanted you to feel comfortable.” He explains. “Not that you don’t look…. absolutely beautiful. I can just tell this isn’t you”. His eyes meet yours and you see his genuineness. He knew you, he really did. He could tell you felt uncomfortable when you were too afraid to admit it yourself. 

“I wanted to try something new”, you squeak. “I wanted to show you I could be like all those model girls that constantly stalk around the paddock”. You shield your eyes embarrassed by your admission. 

“Oh y/n! You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me. I don’t need to see you in a super short dress to know that. Not that I’m complaining!”, he laughs. You look at him and smile. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you plead for him to take you home. 

Being the gentleman he could be, he crouches down and scoops you up. Taking you home to get you into something more comfortable…. or should I say out.

[heartfullofleeches]

everytime i see the name v you can be assured that i am going to butt in.

honestly, v is definitely the type to hire a hitman just because he got in an argument with someone. sure, he could deal with it by himself — but he is a lazy bum and has his... "priorities".

v meeting up with the hitman and immediately his jaw falls off. the most he was expecting is a bald man in shades and a suit, not an incarnate of a divine being!

v watching hitman aim their sniper on the victim — he can't help but observe the focus in your eyes and the steadiness and precision of your hand near the trigger. he praises the beauty of your hands, and unfortunately, his mind got to wandering. thinking about how your hands would feel on his cock — would you focus on his cock like you focus the aim on your targets? would you stroke his cock with absolute precision?

he's put out of his state when he hears a 'bang!' and flinches.

"the job is done, mr. vince."

"could you... do me next?"

"..."

This is bullshit.

If he knew he had to go outside to have that bastard killed, he would've just done it himself.

V drums his fingers against the dinner table - eyes scanning the venue for anyone that might fit his imagined description of the person he's looking for. Rugged, shaven head, nice suit and tie - maybe a few visible scars from their line of work. While there a number of suits in a fine establishment, they were just the run of the mill rich assholes he'd grown accusation to through his life.

Sweat beading down his neck, V pulls at his collar. He hadn't even dressed up for his grandmother's funeral a year ago and now here he was in a nice button up and slacks for a complete stranger - and it isn't even for a date. If the waitress came by again to check if he was ready to order his tie would be an easy ticket out of here without the embarrassment of walking out looking like a dateless loser. He can already hear them laughing whichever way this goes. Frustrated, V folds his arms, shutting his eyes as tries to blend with the background of the uncomfortable booth he sat in. Maybe if he keeps them closed long enough when they open he'll be back at home - or dead. Either is an acceptable option at this point.

"Excuse me-"

V shoots up from his seat as warm breath fans his ear. The voice, no louder than a whisper, sends a chill down his spine as it flows from the lips of its speaker like smooth honey. A far cry from the unpleasantly sweet tone that waitress threw on to hide her thinly veiled annoyance at seeing V still hogging an empty table. He looks up at the looming figure at his table side - jaw slack as his eyes adjust to the light that envelopes them.

"I don't mean to interrupt whatever it is you are doing, but would you happen to be a Mr. Vincent Carbone?"

V's mouth opens like the jaws of a dying animal fighting for its final breath. The person before him was dressed in date casual clothing. He stares at their exposed collar from the lower cut of their shirt and toned muscles from their sleeves. He rubs at his eyes. This... couldn't be them. He had to be looking at a model. V's standards were pretty low his own admission, but from the way they carried themselves down to their physical attributes proved they were way out of his league.

"Yes... um, that's me... Just Vince is fine."

They tighten their lips with a small nod. V makes a note of how soft they look compared to his own chapped skin. He follows their every move as they sit down in their seat across from him - wasting no time as they pull a black folder from the brief case brought with them. He watches as their calloused fingertips turn each page - pondering what they might feel like around his-

"So - are you this guys secretary or....."

V flinches as their eyes snap up at him - emotionless face plagued by a hint of annoyance at his query. "I can assure you I do all of my work by myself, Mr. Carbone.... From the information you've given me, it appears you have had a fued with this person for quite some time despite numerous attempts to block and/or have them removed from the group of individuals you play games with, and wish to escalate matters further."

Breathing through their teeth, they shut the folder - placing it flat on the table. "Had I not done my research into your person, I'd consider this whole thing."

V feels tightness in the crotch of his slacks at the use of that word. Mr. Carbone. He's been referred to as such before, but the way it rolls off their tongue- V picks up his glass of water and fits it to his lips, trembling hands spilling the cool liquid all over his white shirt.

"R....research... You... know about me?"

"Yes. It's common for me to look into the backgrounds of all my clients. Make sure they have the funds to pay for my services and take note of what I can take as collateral if anything comes up. I know for certain you've got the cash, but the rest is still up in the air."

V swallows hard. "I already had the records of our conversation scrubbed and it's not like we talked much anyway... I don't trust cops much either."

Amused, the hitman's expression shifts from its blank slate for the first time as they offer him a small smile. "Good boy...."

V slaps a hand over his mouth to stiffle the whimper that almost slips out. The hitman retrieves a small flip phone from their briefcase and slides it across the table.

"From now on you will contact me from this device only. We will discuss how what methods you prefer in due time. Do you remember what else we talked about when we spoke over the phone?"

"Yea.... Half up front, half went it's done." V pulls a crumbled envelope from his pocket and hands it to them - savoring the brief moment of contact between his sweaty hands and the heat of their skin through their gloves. They count the bills briefly before sliding it into their back pocket. What V wouldn't do to be that piece of paper.

"I look forward to working with you, Sir. Something tells me we'll be hearing a lot from each other in the future."

".....you promise?"

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 7

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: 18.3k 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* Relationship drama, family teasing, parental/societal demands, light discussion of politics, handful of sex jokes, Marcus is a menace. Summary: A gesture you weren't expecting, a memorable phone call, an admission at dinner, a surprise for a friend, and one more grand gesture that you definitely *did* plan. Notes: A gif from Sabrina feels extremely appropriate for this chapter, and this one is even the outfit inspo for Birdie at a certain point. You'll see it 🧡 (Outfit inspo, but not in any way indicating her body type. Wear the clothes you love!)

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

The next few days fly by, as working on the Cameron/Wiley wedding takes up all of your spare time. The only thing you've managed to do on your second day off is to comb through their contracts and get things straightened out with their florist — an agonizing series of phone conversations that nearly ended with you going down to the shop in person — but it is finally the end of the day. You're going to make yourself eat something reasonable, which is to say not the fast food you're craving, and you're going to take your yoga mat down to the studio in Old Town for puppy yoga. It's the single greatest way to relax and destress apart from the phone calls you've been having with Marcus — three now — and while you're bummed that you won't be getting a call tonight, at least he was courteous enough to text you and let you know that he is working late on a new lead.

You've got your leggings and t-shirt on under a sweater dress and you're ready to sneak out the back of the inn with Agent Bailey when you get stopped in the lobby.

“I am sorry, there is a gentleman her to see you.” Malachi rolls his eyes. “A flower delivery. Says that he must deliver to you personally.” He sniffs, a little annoyed that he had not been left the blooms so he could be nosy about who they are from by reading the card affixed to the front. He huffs. “He must be one of those singing flower deliveries.

“So he didn’t give you the card to read?” You tease, knowing Malachi has a penchant for gossip. “It’s okay.” Looping your arm through his with a playful grin, you walk with him out to the lobby. “I’ll let you read it first.” The hope in the back of your mind is very real and present, though — thinking of the possibility that Marcus might have sent you a few buds while he’s away. Maybe as a thank you for helping Cameron, since he’s still in a relationship.

“That is the least that you can do.” He snorts sassily and is eagerly looking forward to finding out who had send you such a beautiful bouquet.

“Hi there.” Greeting the delivery man easily, you’re immediately distracted by the tall cut vase of stunning white flowers with greens strewn throughout to enhance the beauty of the arrangement. “They sent you with quite an armful, didn’t they? Let me take those for you.”

The delivery person is dressed sharply and he confirms your name with Malachi, since you are distracted with the flowers. Instead of handing them to you, he starts to sing. “Baby, I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time. And maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you. Maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time. You hung me on a line.”

The striking way your face falls immediately, draining of blood and leaving your eyes wide, leaving your throat dry right along with it. “I—um—thank you. Uh…thanks. That’s enough. You—you don’t have to sing anymore.” The way you had been desperately hoping Malachi was teasing about a singing delivery has been flushed down the drain, and you fish in your purse to tip the man so he can be on his way. “Oh god,” you mumble to yourself immediately, mortified and feeling like you’re about to throw up.

It’s not uncommon for someone to not wish for the song to be finished so when you tell him to stop, he sets the flowers down on the counter and accepts the tip. The transaction has been fulfilled in his eyes and he won’t insist the song be completed. “Have a nice day.” He tells you quickly.

“Thank you.” There’s no reason to be impolite to the man even though you feel like you’re going to be sick, and instantly you know that not even the cute little puppies at yoga are going to be able to cheer you up from this. “What the hell am I going to do with these?” The question is mostly rhetorical, even though Malachi is standing right next to you. “And why the hell would he send them?”

“Is it not alright for your boyfriend to send you flowers?” He scrunches his brow in confusion. “You love flowers.”

“Mal…” Lowering your voice, you grab the lapel of his jacket and drag Malachi behind the desk to make it look like you’re talking about something work related with the flowers acting as a shield between you two and the rest of the lobby. “I broke up with Sam earlier in the week,” you confide, as quietly as you possibly can.

His eyes widen in surprise and he folds his arms over his chest in mild annoyance you have not told him before now. “What? Why? You love Sam.”

“It’s complicated.” Is the best excuse you can really give him in this exact moment, which feels weird and wrong, but the whole situation is so odd. “Only Sydney knows, so please don’t say anything? You know I prefer to keep my private life private.” Which is yet another reason that the singing telegram is not exactly your style.

“I do not know what to say.” While Malachi loves to know all the gossip and details, he does not share information. He claims he is more of a gatherer.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you assure him, exhaling a long and haggard breath. “Just…help me look for a card or something? Sam having the delivery guy sing ‘our song’ is a little pointed, but there might be a note too.”

“Of course.” He nods and he starts looking through the massive arrangement to find a card.

“Here it is.” Tucked deep into the arrangement between the most massive white carnations you’ve ever seen, is a card in Sam’s scrawling print. Not one to go back on your promise, you hand it to Malachi first, but you have a sinking sensation that you know what it will say.

Malachi opens the card and clears his throat to start reading. “My love, I know I have much to apologize for, but I will spend as much time as it takes to win your forgiveness. Love, Sam.” He reads out loud and looks up at you. “He is begging for forgiveness, Birdie.” Ticking an eyebrow up, he smirks. “Looks like Congressman Chase is trying very hard to win you back.”

“Apparently so.” Although you can’t say that you’re thrilled about it. “Where am I going to put these flowers? This thing is enormous.”

“Your office?” He asks. “Or make it a centerpiece for the family table.”

“Emily Post says never use fragrant flowers in a table arrangement so they don’t alter the scent of your food.” The factoid — learned from your grandmother — spills out of your mouth instantly and you sigh softly. “I’ll bring them upstairs. The side table in the living room has room, and I need to call him now anyway.” Privacy is better is the implication there.

“I will send Charlie up with them.” Charlie is boy who works afternoons carrying luggage and delivering tea and meals to the rooms. As well as working in the kitchen when another pair of hands is needed.

“You’re an angel, Mal. Thank you.” It still leaves you with a phone call to make, but that is up to just you no matter what else happens.

“Of course.” Malachi nods and quickly walks off to find the burly younger man. Knowing you wouldn’t want the flowers to be downstairs for long so no one would ask questions.

Turning around again is an option, but Charlie is bringing the flowers upstairs and you’re already dressed for yoga, so you slip out the back door in the vain hope that an hour of stretching with very cute puppies will help. You can call Sam and have an uncomfortable conversation later when you’re feeling more centered.

The puppies are just what you need. Scampering and yipping through the posed arms and legs of people might not seem like it would be relaxing, but it is. And short of hearing Marcus’s voice, it’s the most relaxing thing you can possibly think of right now. Hopefully it works.

**

Fridays are always busier than any other day. Getting through the work day and having a little time to decompress before going to family dinner is always a task, but tonight you’re having an evening cup of coffee in your living room while you hammer out the scheduling assignments for the wedding which is now only one week away. Everything is falling into place, thankfully, and you’re going to give your team a big thank you for hustling to get everything ready in time.

The incoming call isn’t a normal one, and Marcus hopes you don’t mind. He wants to show you something and hopes you like it.

If he could see the smile on your face when his photo pops up on your phone screen, he would know for sure that you don't mind at all. "Hey G-man." You greet him with a voice full of sunshine, and since it's a FaceTime call he can actually see the grin this time as well.

“Hey.” Marcus grins back at you, very pleased that you seem happy to see him. “I’m sorry to call you at such a weird time, but I’m somewhere I thought you would appreciate.”

"Don't ever be sorry to call." As if to prove it, you heft the notebooks off of your lap and sit back on the couch. "Where are you?"

“The Tower of London.” He turns the camera around to show you the area.

"No!" Immediately you're sitting up in your seat again, trying to inspect the image on your phone like you might be able to climb into it if you try hard enough. "God, I miss London! Have you gotten to poke around anywhere? That whole place is so cool and so haunted."

“I’ve been allowed back into the Jewel House.” He admits. “They said that it’s okay if I’m on a video call while I’m there. Do you want to see the jewels up close?”

"Did you seriously just ask a girly girl if she wants to see the Crown Jewels? Marcus Pike you are a dream." The few minutes you have before you need to leave will be perfectly spent just like this and you grab your coffee to sip while he moves around the space.

He snorts, thankful that the camera is off of him so you can’t see that he’s blushing. “Here we go.” There is a moment that he has to wait for the doors to be unlocked, but then it’s opened up and he steps into the Jewel House.

"Did you know the Black Prince's ruby in the Imperial State Crown isn't actually a ruby?" The excitement bubbles over you with the instinctive knowledge that Marcus won't judge you for it. Getting excited about history isn't a bad thing, after all.

"What is it?" He asks, glancing around to see if he can find the Imperial State Crown to show you up close. "Oh, there it is."

"It's a balas stone." When he starts walking up to it you practically squeak with excitement. "They say Henry V wore it in his helmet at the Battle of Agincourt. Like a good luck charm."

"A good luck charm, hum?" Marcus smiles as he pushes the phone's camera closer to you can see it under the bright lights of the room. "I need one of those." He huffs. "Been running out of luck lately."

"Dead end with the case?" You ask, genuine concern in your voice despite humming over the large gem. "I hope not. You're supposed to be back in a week for Cameron's wedding."

"Nah." He doesn't want to turn the conversation to things that will bring down the mood. "Professionally, things are great." He promises. "I'm going to spend the next few days wrapping up to turn over to Interpol and I'm hoping to be back two days before the wedding."

"So..." Biting your lip is a nervous tick that you never quite got rid of, but you're smiling into the camera regardless. "Does that mean I can give my parents your RSVP for my birthday when I go to dinner tonight? Since you know you're going to be back in time?"

“Yeah.” Marcus shifts the camera back around so you can see him nod. “I’ll be there. Sorry that I’ve been gone, it’s probably sitting in my mailbox. But tell your parents I’m happily accepting the invitation.”

“I’m happy to accept it on your behalf, but since they still insist the location has to be a surprised, you’ll have to check the card for that.” Once he’s back in frame, that smile on your face gets beaming all over again. “So are there any corners of that jewel house that we peasants don’t get to see and you do?”

“Yes.” Marcus smirks and turns the camera around. “Would you like to see the personal jewels?” He asks, walking over to another door.

“You’re kidding?” Another gasp and giggle comes out of you as you readjust on your couch. There’s only one last sip of coffee at the bottom of your cup but what he’s showing you is far more exciting than hazelnut creamer. “Yes please! Absolutely.”

“Okay, but I’ve been instructed that I cannot pick up or touch any of them. So….yeah.” He doesn’t know why he would say that, it’s not like you can come through the screen and pick up the jewels.

“Oh my god…” The room that he’s in is full of cases, shelving, and careful lighting that make the stored pieces glint and glitter. They wink at Marcus as he moves about the room, teasing you through the camera and making both of you gasp or giggle alternately. It’s just such an enormous measure of opulence that taking it in together is surreal.

“What do you think? Pretty amazing, right?” He’s a little giddy, and soft, sharing this with you, even if it’s through a screen. “The sheer monetary value of this room is more than every house I’ve ever owned.”

“Same,” you huff, and laugh when he throws you a doubtful look. “We don’t own the White House. We’re just borrowing it for a while.” You remind him with a grin. “And I don’t even live there!”

“Yeah, buuuuuut…” he flashes you a grin. “You can sleep in the Lincoln bedroom anytime you want. I bet your mom wouldn’t say no.”

“You probably could too.” A little poke at the screen is the closest you’re going to get to touching him, and you hate that fact. “After the State dinner, she probably likes you more than me.”

“Nahhhh.” He shakes his head and shrugs. “You’re her daughter. She loves you unconditionally. Me? She just likes that I look good in a tux and can dance.” He reminds you. “Those are mutually exclusive things.”

“If you think she loves me unconditionally, remind me to tell you about the time I lost the fifth grade spelling bee to Maude Appleton,” you snort, nearly in giggles on the couch again. “I’m a disgrace to the family, Marcus. Truly.”

“The black sheep, huh? I can tell.” He rolls his eyes and cheekily sticks out his tongue at you. “You have a sitting President planning your birthday party.”

“One that she absolutely does not need to be throwing, and that you will be at.” The fact that he’s coming tickles you more than a little, and you grin like a moron for a moment longer before the alarm on your watch goes off. “Speaking of Madam President,” you huff a dramatic sigh and lift yourself off the couch. “That’s my cue. It’s Friday night dinner.”

“Go, enjoy your dinner with the President while I skulk around the Crown Jewels and dream of being King Marcus.” He jokes, smirking at you through the screen.

“Just remember, every king needs a queen.” The moniker First Princess flashes through your head again and your cheeks burn with it. “Or at least a Princess.”

You are moving to your door and Marcus is about to come back with slightly flirtatious comeback when he spots the gorgeously large bouquet of flowers on the table. A slap in the face reminder of who you are and despite that, you are taken. “Yeah.” The agreement is a little flat for the previous tone of the conversation. “Well, um, I better go. The President doesn’t need to be kept waiting.”

“She’s still just my mother.” The change in his tone doesn’t escape you but the reason does, and you furrow your eyebrows at the screen but swallow it down. He’s still dating Vanessa. Don’t make it weird. You remind yourself harshly. “I’ll talk to you later.” It’s always how you sign off your calls now, and you know you sound hopeful but you don’t care one bit.

“Talk later.” He agrees and disconnects the call. Staring at his Home Screen for a moment before sighs. “You’re a fucking idiot, Pike.”He grumbles. “She’s dating a fucking congressman. She doesn’t want you.” When he gets back home, he needs to look at the dating apps again. Needing to forget about you and move on.

**

Friday night dinners are ritual, soothing, although June is eager to get this particular one over with so she can go out with the potential boyfriend she had met at the party last Friday. Nervous, she exudes that kind of boundless energy she had as a child, since she likes this guy so much it surprises her.

“Someone’s in a good mood tonight.” Your father observes with a wry smirk as the five of you sit down at the table together. He’s particularly excited about dinner tonight for purely food reasons, but he likes seeing his children happy and buzzing.

“I’m going to the movies.” She volunteers, knowing that the security detail would have already informed her parents anyway.

“With Kiley?” Alex assumes automatically, knowing that Junie’s best friend is a movie fanatic. “What are you guys going to see? I might tag along.”

“No!” She’s almost spitting out her refusal and then realizing that it sounds suspicious, she backs down. “I mean, I’m not going with Kiley. You can’t come.”

“If you’re not going with Kiley…” Alex’s eyes widen as he picks up his drink, not bothering to hide his growing smirk behind the glass at all. “Did you meet somebody, Junebug? Please tell me you are smart enough not to get bamboozled by a frat boy or a post grad.”

“Shut up.” She hisses, throwing her napkin at him. “It’s none of your business and I’m smarter than that.”

“So you did meet someone.” You join the smirking too, knowing that razzing your sister is all in good fun and that you and Alex would go to the ends of the earth to protect her. “What’s their name? How’d’ya meet? Give us the dirt, Junie.”

She narrows her eyes at you, feeling slightly betrayed by you essentially ganging up on her. “I met him at the party last weekend. His name is Bryan and before you say anything…” She holds up her hand. “He is in a fraternity but he was the DD for the party.”

“Sounds responsible.” Your father commends from one end of the table. “We just want to know you’re safe, Bug. That’s all.”

“Oh, no.” Alex shakes his head as the salad course hits the table. “We want dirt.”

“He may have passed the Secret Service’s background check, but not the older sibling one,” you agree with a nod.

“Oh my ggggggggoddddddd.” June groans, dropping her head into her hand and giving a moan of embarrassment. “I think he might be my soulmate, okay?” She huffs.

The room is dropped into a vacuum as all the air is sucked out of it. Four family members sit stunned before all hell breaks loose in excitement as everyone starts talking at once.

“Why do you think so, honey?”

“Junie, that’s wonderful!”

“Holy shit, are you serious?!”

“Are you excited? Did you ask him how he got the scar on his leg?”

“I haven’t seen that scar.” June admits, groaning slightly and now worried that she might have raised everyone’s hopes for nothing. “But it’s not like it’s obvious like your tattoo.” She snorts, throwing you an amused look. “Although Agent Pike didn’t seem to think it was dumb.”

Halfway to picking up your salad fork, you freeze all over again. “Why would you say that?” The carefully affected breezy tone in your voice doesn’t fool your family for a second, and your blood is pounding your ears out of sheer fear for your baby sister’s answer.

“Oh, we talked about it while we danced.” She confirms, unaware of the turmoil she is causing. “He’s really nice. He actually didn’t make fun of where you put your hummingbird like I do.”

“June Allegra…” There is as much warning in your voice as there is fear and worry, your eyes blowing wide as they narrow on her across the table. “You told Marcus about my tattoo?”

“Was it supposed to be some kind of secret?” She asks, startled by your reaction. “I didn’t— you’ve never really hidden it before. Are you— did I do something wrong?” She throws her parents a confused look.

“I hadn’t said anything yet,” you admit, feeling sick to your stomach at the realization that Marcus has known for an entire week that you are soulmates. Through the phone calls and the chats and the work you’re doing for his friend’s wedding. He’s known, but he’s still with Vanessa. “I’ve suspected for weeks, but I didn’t…it hadn’t been confirmed…”

“Suspected what?” She’s still not grasped what you are talking about, but your mother and father exchange a very pointed glance with each other.

“Oh honey.” Your mother sighs.

June huffs. “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Agent Pike is Birdie’s soulmate.” Alex’s voice isn’t nearly as teasing, more of a soft tone of understanding cutting through the tension in the room. “And you told him before she could.”

“I’m not mad,” you assure your sister quickly, but your heartbeat has leapt up into your throat. “It’s just…it’s complicated.”

“Oh shiiiiiit.” Her eyes widen and she looks like she might cry. “Why— why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t you? You’re soulmates? What about Sam?”

“I broke up with Sam.” That admission is heavy enough on its own, knowing that letting the cat out of the bag with your family is now officially necessary. “Not…exclusively because of that. But it made me think about things. And…I hadn’t told Marcus yet because I wasn’t sure. Plus, he’s seeing someone else. And I didn’t want to complicate things for him.” June really does look like she’s about to cry, though, and you get up and circle the table to hug her. “You didn’t know, Junebug. It’s okay.”

“Oh shit.” It’s not often your mother curses, but she does now. “Sam got an invitation to your birthday, I wouldn’t have dreamed of not inviting him, but if you’ve broken up….”

“I still want to stay friends with him.” The clarification is obviously important since it does change expectations a bit. “And Marcus will be home from London in time to come to the party, so please just…I will let you guys know when I’ve talked to him, okay? If I don’t say anything to you directly will you all please assume I haven’t gotten to talk to him about it yet and not say anything?”

“Damn.” Alex whistles quietly. “I thought my soulmate status was complicated.” He snorts. “You’ve got me beat, big sis.

“Your soulmate status isn’t complicated, people are just bigoted,” you toss back, knowing that Alex and David have been crazy about each other forever. They just stay quiet about it to avoid unnecessary commentary on their personal lives. Which you give them a lot of credit for, honestly. “This is…a lot.”

“Yes it is.” Your father speaks up. “And only you can decide when the time is right to talk to Marcus about this.” He agrees. “You said he was also seeing someone?”

"Yeah..." As the five of you slowly start to eat, the sick to your stomach feeling is subsiding a little and you nod. "Um...Vanessa D'Amario? She's, uh...she's Sam's aide."

Your mother winces. “Also daughter to Judge D’Amario.” She tells the table. “Federal circuit and on the short list for Supreme Court.” She would never tell you to not follow your heart, but she does want to caution you. “Just be honest and let Marcus decide what he needs to do before you take any steps.”

"I just want him to be happy." It sounds cliched, but as soon as it's out of your mouth you know it's true. That the feeling that's nestled deep into your ribcage is new love and that it's real enough to make you both selfless and just a little stupid. "If that means staying with Vanessa, I'll just have to deal with it."

Alex shakes his head. “That man is a romantic.” He snorts. “He probably is waiting for the right moment. Some big gesture.”

"I don't know what's going to happen," you admit, stabbing a piece of apple and some cheese rather violently with your salad fork. "But what I do know is that for now, I'm excited about Junie maybe meeting someone she's interested in and my birthday happening in a week." Your eyes raise to your mother on one end of the table and you offer her a lopsided smile. "You might have to tell me where the party is after all, Mom. Unless you're going to have somebody else drive me."

“I can have Marcus bring you.” She offers with a small grin.

"I honestly think he would forget how to speak if you called him." It's an enormously sweet and endearing thought, trying to wrap your head around how Marcus might react to the sitting President calling him up to ask a favor.

Your father chuckles and reaches over to take your mother’s hand. “Well, she might talk him into it if she demands a dance with him. She was grumbling about not being able to dance with your escort herself after the State dinner.”

"There's going to be dancing?" You raise your eyebrow at your mother, no longer able to get any kind of read at all at what kind of party this is going to be.

“That entirely depends on the music that you choose.” She grins at you. “Doesn’t have to be ballroom dancing. I can still break a leg.”

"It's cut a rug," June huffs, still amazed that the woman who somehow uses turns of phrase just barely incorrectly convinced an entire country to make her President.

The President laughs, aware of what the phrase actually is, she just enjoys watching her children cringe at times. “Whatever.” She huffs, waving her hand. “Either way, Birdie’s party will be wonderful.”

“That’s how your tattoo came up!” June huffs. “Your nickname. Again, I’m sorry, Birdo.”

"You couldn't have known, Junebug. It's okay." At another point in your lives you might have been the right ages for you to hold it over her head, but not anymore. You and June have just under ten years separating your ages and that difference has united you in as many ways as it's separated you. "And I'm going to be honest, along with all the different songs from the years of my life? It's a lot of 80s dance music. I gave the list to Dad when I got here."

“Perfect.” Your mom winks at you, “I loved the 80s.”

"We know, Mom." Alex snorts, shaking his head as he eats his salad. "Just promise you won't do the Running Man or the Robot or anything."

“My Robot is amazing!” She protests with a laugh, knowing that while she can dance, she’s goofy with that move. “Okay, okay I’ll resist.” She huffs dramatically.

“We acknowledge and appreciate your sacrifice,” you tease, raising your glass to your mother in salute.

“As long as my accomplishments are acknowledged.” She teases back, smiling at the three of her children. Happy that all of them are on the way to knowing their soulmates, even if they don’t choose to be with them. “So how do you feel about the idea that Marcus Pike might be your soulmate?” She asks softly. “That’s the most important thing.”

The opportunity to think about your answer while tonight’s main course comes out is appreciated, and when it turns out to be your mother’s very favourite thing on the planet — chicken cordon bleu with roasted potatoes and broccoli — the softness on your father’s face at seeing her delight reminds you of the warm, tight feeling in your chest every time you hear Marcus laugh. It tingles its way up to your cheeks and you end up smiling just hearing his name. “He’s a good man,” you say finally. “I think I’m lucky.”

She watches you with a sense of pride. “Good.” She hums and lifts her glass of lemonade. “To Birdie and Junie.” She poses. “May their soulmates be worthy of the wonderful women they are.”

“Here here!” Your father’s addition may not be long in the way of words, but he sees your reaction, and the soft way you smile, and has a feeling that things will end up okay.

June smiles, still feeling guilty for letting the cat out of the bag, but honestly she wonders if Marcus is aware that you might be soulmates. He didn’t seem to react too much from what she can remember.

“So…” Your mother sits up tall at the table and looks between her three children at the table. “Am I allowed to do a little business at supper? Since I have all of you here?”

“Oh boy.” Alex immediately rolls his eyes. “I knew we weren’t getting a great meal and there not be strings.” It’s an old joke in the family about how no one eats for free.

"Oh, you'll like yours," she waves one hand at him, unbothered by her middle child's habitual sass. "I just wanted to let all of you know that someone from my office is going to be contacting each of you in the next month or so with some opportunities for good publicity. There are plenty of websites and magazines that want to talk to the three of you and different businesses that want to be associated with you. We're going through all of it before we approve requests, and I thought each of you should be allowed to have some say in each of your approvals." She meets eyes with each of you individually, knowing what the first question will be. "And I'm sorry, but no publicity is not an option. That's why we're curating each list carefully. To keep things controlled and try to avoid things coming at any of you from left field."

June is the least social out of all of you and it’s immediately apparent that she is not happy. “Whhhhhhhhhy?” she whines. “You’re President, not us. Go adopt a puppy or something.”

"That's actually on the list," she admits, chuckling at how on the nose some of the choices are for her kids. "Since animal rights and animal welfare are the things that you've always cared the most about, we thought you might be willing to partner with a local rescue and pick out a new dog for the family." There has been a lot of time and effort put into making sure that the things being presented to each of the kids is something they actually care about and something that is representative of who they are. Hopefully that makes things a little less overwhelming for each of the kids individually.

“Wait…really?” Her parents have been loving and wonderful but the busy lifestyle they had lead hadn’t been fair to an animal. At least for a long time. The last family pet had been a cat who had died of old age when June was eight. “Are you being serious? This isn’t a joke, right?”

"They'll be your responsibility to take care of, for the most part," your mother warns, but she's glad to see the way June lights up. "I'm sure Alex will help, and Birdie too, when your sister is around. But...we know we're asking a lot of your kids. So we thought you should get something out of it, too."

“You had to wait until I’m practically out of the house?” Alex huffs playfully.

“Four years in the White House with a puppy still sounds like a pretty good time,” your dad contends. From the way he’s smiling it looks like letting Junie get a puppy was probably his idea. Even more so when he adds: “And I have some thoughts about the name.”

“We are not naming it Scout.” Alex warns him, pointing his finger at his father.

“But it’s a good name!” Your father protests in response, sending everyone into intermediate laughter and sighs. It’s always what he wants to name pets. Even the baby bird Junie rescued from the park when she was five.

“But we need something more dignified for a White House pooch.” June insists, grinning at her dad.

“Don’t tell me. You want to name the dog after Eleanor Roosevelt or Susan B. Anthony?” Alex jokes. “Why don’t we meet the pup before we name them? They might turn out to be just as goofy as the rest of this family.”

“We should get a really dopey puppy and name him Goofy.” June snickers happily. She picks up her glass. “I want to adopt.” She insists. “And make sure they are spayed or neutered.”

“I think Junie might be enjoying her assignment after all,” you observe, flashing both of your parents an impressed smile. Whatever they have for you, you’ll take the responsibility of more spotlight onto your shoulders with as much grace as you can muster. While it’s not your favourite part of your mother’s victory, it’s a very real part of how things will work for the next few years. And you did willingly sign up — for lack of a better phrase — to be as helpful as you could be.

“Good.” The President watches over all of you with a small smile and nods back at you. She knew that it would be difficult at times, but you are all handling it with as much grace and aplomb as could be expected.

“In other news.” With things going fairly well after the shock early in dinner tonight, your father is glad for the change in tone. “I hope everyone has the White House Easter Egg Roll already on their calendar.”

“I’m finding the golden egg!” Alex declares with a laugh. “There better be big money in it this year.”

“There will be prizes for the kids, and a nice lunch.” It earns Alex a smirk from your father, though. Of course it does.

“Are we supposed to do anything besides dress appropriately and be proud of you at the podium while you make a small speech?” It’s a valid question, directly aimed at your mother, but the question you’re afraid to ask is whether or not this is something they would prefer the three of you have escorts for.

“I’ve decided to change things up a little this year.” The President admits with hopeful smile. “We are bringing in one of the local orphanages, I was hoping that you and any friends you want to bring, along with my staff, would pair up with a child for the egg hunt.”

“You’re going to piss off a lot of judges and legislators with that one.” And you don’t mind pointing it out to her. It’s often seen as a privilege of the position for high-ranking government employees to get that coveted invitation for their families to attend White House events. Letting ‘just anybody’ in is a mark for your mother to the public but possibly against her to a lot of other people. “I’ll be sure to bring a whole crew.”

“Fuck ‘em.” She huffs, rolling her eyes. “It is the People’s House. That includes children that haven’t found their forever home yet.”

“Besides,” June smirks, the admiration for her mother clear as day on her face. “What are they gonna do? She’s the President. You can’t impeach somebody for being nice.”

“They are really going to be pissed when we push the homeless initiative.” She has a list of things that she wants to tackle before she has to worry about re-election or leaving the office. Honestly, she wants her record in office to do the campaigning for her.

“And we’ll be even prouder.” There hasn’t really ever been a time when you haven’t been proud of your mother, but seeing the things she wants to accomplish while in office really does hammer it home for you. If the number of homeless and unemployed drops across the country like it did in Pennsylvania while she was governor, it will be enough to put her in history books all by itself.

“Thank you all for your help, your patience and everything you put with.” Right now, there isn’t a Secret Service Agent in sight, they all stay outside of the private residence, but she knows that it chaffs sometimes.

“We’ve got your back, Mom,” you promise her, because despite being a family of sass and negotiation, the fact is that you’re all very close. The age gaps between you and your siblings have never mattered, and the bumps in the road that you’ve all weathered were manageable because you got over them together.

**

The invitation to your birthday is beautiful and Marcus smiles when he sees the theme. Finally home, there’s plenty of mail to open and things to do before he changes and runs over to the inn for the wedding rehearsal.

His cell phone is perpetually on his person, always ready to go at a moment’s notice, but he isn’t expecting any calls. He’s just concentrating on getting through his stack of mail and getting his head on straight when his phone goes off. The word Private across his phone screen isn’t necessarily unusual, but having just come home from a case, there is an uncomfortable possibility that this is work related.

“Special Agent Pike.” He tucks the phone under his chin as he sets the mail down, pulling out a notebook in case it’s someone about a case.

“Good afternoon, Agent.” The President’s voice is distinct and recognizable to anyone who has heard her speak as many times as a government agent has, but she introduces herself anyway. Arrogance isn’t a characteristic she typically has. “Do you have a moment?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Marcus straightens immediately and wonders if something is wrong. “What may I help you with?” The President of the United States is calling him, he is going to do whatever she needs.

“I know you have an important night, so I won’t keep you.” She is well apprised of the wedding you are coordinating in just two days’ time. You’ll be missing family dinner for it, but your business and your integrity are important enough to take precedence. “But I’m afraid I have to ask a small favor of you, if I may? Are you Stateside again, Agent Pike?”

“Yes Ma’am, I am.” The fact that she knows he was out of the country means you talked about him with her, even if it was concerning the invitation to the party. It warms him in a way that it shouldn’t, given your relationship with Congressman Chase. He knows that whatever the favor, he will gladly do it. “Whatever you need, I’ll be happy to help.”

“It’s small,” she promises with a chuckle. Just as you had said — and as she had seen a little bit of at the State dinner — Marcus Pike is an earnest sort of man. “I was hoping you would be willing to pick Birdie up for her party on Saturday to bring her to the venue? The location is a surprise and I know she’d appreciate being able to ride in with you.” Instead of one of her siblings is the end of the sentence in her mind, but these days she’s fairly certain that you would pick Marcus Pike over almost anyone.

“Of course.” He agrees immediately, almost without thought, but he wonders why Sam isn’t bringing you. He opens his mouth to ask, but quickly shuts it before anything comes out, deciding he doesn’t want to know if there’s some birthday surprise involving the congressman. “What time do you want me to have her walk through the door?” He asks instead.

“Seven-thirty would be ideal.” The invitations say to arrive at seven, and she wants everyone assembled at the club before you get there. “She’s never been to the Statesman Club, I checked with Sydney. So she shouldn’t have any idea where you’re bringing her. And don’t let the half-hearted protests convince you of a thing. She loves a surprise.”

Marcus chuckles quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He promises. “Seven-thirty.” He repeats. “I’ll have her there on time. Will Agent Bailey follow us or ride with us?” He asks.

“She will follow.” In fact, as a mother, she made sure of that. The chance to give you and Marcus some time alone seemed important. “Hopefully nothing will be complicated, and everything should be fun. I do appreciate the favor, Agent. It won’t go unremembered.”

“I am happy to help.” He feels slightly strange about having the President feel indebted to him, not that he would use it for anything at all. “Sincerely.”

“Wonderful.” There’s a smile in her voice, but a finality as well. “Well, I won’t keep you. Have fun at the rehearsal dinner tonight and the wedding on Friday.”

He’s surprised she knows the plans, but why, he’s not sure. You are close to your mother and he doubts you don’t talk about your work. “Thank you Madame President.” He hums quietly. “Have a good evening.”

“Good evening. And thank you again.” The call clicks off with a pleasant tone, and the President smiles to herself on the other end, knowing you didn’t think she would actually go through with having Marcus bring you to your party.

Marcus just stares at the phone for a moment, feeling like that was a surreal moment. He’s certainly never had the President call him for a favor before. Chuckling to himself, he moves towards the bathroom, needing to shower before he gets dressed for the rehearsal.

**

The rehearsal dinner truly is the easiest part of this process. For you, at least. You’ve done large handfuls of them in the past to be a help to Juan, and the number of people at this particular rehearsal is going to be incredibly small. Cameron and her fiancé had asked for just a family style meal after the actual rehearsal and you had set up a round dinner table in the gazebo in the grounds for them to enjoy their night with a few friends and family in relative privacy. Per your usual protocol, everyone working the wedding will be in black tonight and for the ceremony on Friday, and you’ve set yourself into a long-sleeved black blouse and cigarette pants for tonight with a smart pair of flats to complete the Audrey Hepburn look. There was a lot of back and forth about it between you and Sydney and Juan, but now that you know Marcus knows about your soulmate status? You’ve got to talk to him tonight. You may even have a few surprises up your sleeve, since you had to change your plans for that grand, romantic gesture.

Marcus tries to make his outfit seem casual, a more tailored suit than he wears at work, no tie. Loafers instead of dress shoes. He shows up right as Cameron and Michael do. Smiling as they get out of their car and he hugs the bride, shaking the groom’s hand. “You survived.” He jokes.

“Thanks to you.” Cameron — Joyce outside of work and to her friends and family — happily hugs Marcus instead of shaking his hand. “I don’t know what you said to her but she has bent over backward to make this happen and we’re so grateful.”

“I just asked her for a favor.” He admits with a sheepish grin. “That’s all.”

“Well, then she’s an amazing friend and we’re grateful for that, too.” She’s absolutely beaming in her white floral sundress and happily ready for this week’s celebrations. As stressful as everything had been, it has also been wonderful to feel like the day isn’t in jeopardy after all. “How was the case?”

“Interesting, but I want to focus on you and Wiley.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out an envelope. “I want to help with the costs. I know you guys got screwed having to pay twice.”

Cameron shakes her head adamantly, touched by the gesture even though it isn’t necessary. “We didn’t have to pay twice,” she tells him, acknowledging how remarkable that is. “I don’t really know what she did, but she hasn’t asked us for any money. The whole thing is just…it’s been a miracle.”

“Wow.” Marcus’s eyes widen and he wonders if you managed to get the other venue to cover the costs, but he knows in his heart, you just aren’t charging them. “Okay.” He sighs. “If you’re sure.”

“You’ve already helped us so much.” As a coworker and a boss, Marcus is fantastic. But as a friend? She will always be grateful for everything he’s done. Their long friendship has been through plenty of ups and downs, but this is above and beyond any call of duty that she could possibly think of. “Are you…still okay with walking me down the aisle?“

“I am looking forward to it…although…if you want someone else to do that, I understand.” Marcus hums as you walk outside to greet them.

“Joyce, Michael, you look fantastic. How are we feeling tonight?” You are nothing but professional smiles despite your own nerves for the various things that are set to happen tonight. Hopefully it will all be emotional in good ways only. “I’m glad you were able to get back in time, Marcus.”

“Me too.” He smiles politely, trying not to moon over how good you look. It makes him want to reach out and pull you into his arms, although that’s not right. “Are we all set?”

“Just about.” There’s a tingling in your fingers and the nervous butterflies in your stomach bottom out, but things are as ready as they’re going to be. You’re not about to steal the thunder from this couple on such an important night, but Marcus looks so good in his more casual and stylish suit that you have to remind yourself that you can’t just drag him upstairs. “Let’s take a walk out to the back and I’ll just give you a few moments to say hi to everyone before we get in place for the rehearsal. Okay?”

“That sounds good.” She’s excited, of course she is, but she’s also very disappointed. Wishing that she had her family here. The upside is that Marcus and her other friends are the best kind of family she could ask for.

“We’ve set up a table out in the gazebo for dinner. It should fit all eleven of you just fine.” A slight smile touches your lips, knowing that the couple only told you to expect nine for the rehearsal. The first surprise of the night is waiting for them out in the garden.

Cameron frowns slightly, tilting her head as she catches the error. From what you’ve shown her, you don’t make mistakes. “Eleven?”

“Eleven.” Waving one beckoning hand, you head out to the garden with Marcus, Cameron, and Michael in tow.

There are big batches of raspberry iced tea ready for tonight and all the guests gathered in the garden have glasses already. A few people are chatting but mostly they are looking around, inspecting early flowers blossoming in the flower beds from the warm spring, and the large planters that have already been brought in to be part of the decor for the wedding. In amongst the guests — the joyful friends and select family members who had offered continuous support — are Agent Cameron’s parents.

“Mom? Dad?” Cameron’s tone is nearly disbelieving and that makes Marcus’s heart hurt.

Mr. Cameron unwinds his arm from around his nervous-looking wife’s waist and rubs his hands together. “I hope we aren’t crashing your party.” He wants to set her and Michael at ease that they aren’t here to cause trouble. “I got a call from your boss a few days ago.” He glances over at Marcus briefly before turning his attention back to his only daughter. “Who told me, in much more eloquent terms, that I was a horse’s ass and would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t support you and Wiley.” He explains. “Your mother and I….we would like to come to the wedding and if it’s possible, maybe I could give you away?” He hopes that she will let him but if not, he would understand.

“Really?” A grown woman of more than thirty years, Joyce Cameron tears up immediately and clutches her fiancé’s hand while staring — gob smacked — at both of her parents. The whole thing doesn’t even register for a few seconds before she looks over at Marcus with a watery smile. “I don’t know a lot of people who can say their boss saved their wedding, and this is so much more than just one day.” She turns to hug Marcus fiercely before walking the six steps across the lawn she needs to embrace both of her parents.

Michael hangs back, giving his fiancée her moment with her parents as he turns to look at Marcus in astonishment. “How?” He demands, making the older man shrug.

“I asked them if they would be proud of the union if you shared marks.” He tells him. “They said you were a good man, and I reminded them that is all they should want for their daughter. A good man. One who treats her like a queen. And she’s found that. In you.”

"I guess it took somebody from the outside." Wiley shrugs, though, watching his fiancée hug her parents with happy tears in her eyes. "She deserves this, Marcus. Thank you." He murmurs, before stepping up to shake his soon-to-be father-in-law's hand and leaving Marcus standing with you on the edge of the garden.

Marcus smiles, happy that he has been able to help Joyce again, even if it means that he’s lost out on walking her down the aisle. He will happily be relegated to just a guest in this case. After a minute or so of quiet where Marcus doesn't step away from you, you nudge his side playfully with your elbow. "It's good to see you in person again."

“Glad it’s not accompanied by screaming parents, disturbing the peace and police reports.” He snorts, turning and giving you a friendly grin. It’s all he can muster but hopefully it’s believable. “But at least I didn’t get thrown into the dungeon for trying to steal the jewels.”

"They were very meek and apologetic when they got here," you assure him. The maid of honor — a cousin, apparently — had been shocked to see them but things had gone okay after the initial surprise wore off. For now, it's only good things with this wedding party so you can turn your attention to Marcus. "It would've caused quite a scandal if I had to go over there and bail you out, so I'm also glad you didn't get into any scrapes across the pond. I don't know if my curtsy is good enough for groveling."

He laughs slightly and then looks back at the older couple talking with the younger one. The relief is staggering from both sides and he sighs happily. “Guess I’m out of the rehearsal.”

"No reason you can't stay." It probably comes out too quickly, but the last thing you want is for him to leave. Not when you have...things you want to say. "You're the hero of the night. Stay and have a little supper, at least. I'm sure they don't want you to go."

“I wasn’t planning on leaving just yet.” He assures you. “Not when I can stay and bask in the happiness that my meddling worked.”

"Bask in it all you like. You earned it." Just like you're basking in this — just standing here beside him while the warmth of his presence washes over you like an exquisite sunset.

“Just like you.” Marcus turns towards you. “Are you not charging them? Or did the other place pony up some money?”

"I couldn't bear to charge them anything," you admit, shrugging your shoulders slightly. It's not something you're doing for the praise — it's something you're doing for the love of him as much or more than any other reason. "Derby Farms' lawyers are putting together compensations for all the clients who lost their dates and deposits and all...and it covered the expenses here. They already paid for their wedding once. And Sydney's food is better than what they serve anyway."

“So let me give you this.” He pulls the envelope out of his coat again. “To help. Because you just said they ‘are’ not they ‘have’.” He points out. “You have expenses.”

"You don't have to do anything, Marcus." Pressing the envelope gently back toward him, you just shake your head once so you don't draw any kind of attention from the happy wedding party or their officiant as he gets them all into order. "You asked me for a favor and I take that very seriously."

“I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t be paid.” He huffs, knowing that your time is precious and you have worked miracles with the short amount allotted.

"I know. But this is...it's more than just a few days of business. It's their happiness. And—" Your head tilts slightly, knowing that you didn't plan for this kind of timing but now you have a bit of extra time. "Do you...would you mind if we...talked? Just for a couple of minutes, since the rehearsal will go perfectly smoothly without either of us?"

Marcus feels his stomach flip and he swallows slightly, wondering why you want to talk to him. “Sure.” He says breezily.

You nod to the right, to where one of the small outbuildings that you use as a staging area has been staged for tonight, instead. Set up with twinkle lights and a little set of Bluetooth speakers and a small something for Marcus, you feel like you're visibly shaking as you walk to what used to be a shed and is now quite fixed up and neatly painted. The lights and music aren't on — not wanting to force a romantic mood on him in case he reacts poorly in any way to what you have to say — but privacy is good regardless.

"I...before anything else, I owe you an apology," you start, inhaling and exhaling deeply once the thin door has tapped shut behind you both.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” His rebuttal is automatic, along with the frown on his face.

"Yes I do." The nerves are running through you like lightning strikes, but you wrote out all of what you wanted to say and if you get through half of it you'll be very proud of yourself. "I kept something from you. Something important. And I thought I had kept a lid on it until I was prepared to really explain why I kept quiet. But then I found out at family dinner last week that Junie had gone and spilled the beans on me at the State dinner and I just..." Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. "I should have told you that I suspected we were soulmates right away. And I didn't. So I'm sorry, I just hope you'll let me explain why."

Marcus freezes and he wants to walk away. Fear, true fear curling in his gut. The fear of being rejected by the person the universe had said was supposed to be his. To realize that he wasn’t good enough for anyone. “You don’t—” he shakes his head. “Please don’t. Not right before Cameron’s wedding.” He asks softly.

"I know." You hang your head in turn, the bravery evaporating from you far faster than the weeks it has taken you to build it all up. "You're seeing Vanessa. And that's part of why I kept things to myself. If you really—" Nearly hiccupping at the idea of full-on rejection when you had been dreaming of any other reaction, you nod dumbly and try not to look as crestfallen as you feel. "I'm sorry. I should have kept it to myself a while longer, I guess."

Marcus chuckles dryly, surprised that he can in a moment like this. “I went to her after the State dinner.” He admits, looking down at his loafers and wishing he was still in the wedding after all. “I needed to tell her that I— that it was— to end things.” He sighs and gives a self-amused smirk at the ground. “Only to get dumped before I could open my mouth.” He shoves his hands into his trouser pockets. “She apparently discovered who her soulmate was.”

"When it rains, it pours." Your laugh is hollow, still afraid, and you twist your arms behind your back nervously. "So...all the phone calls...all the times I swore to myself I wasn't going to flirt with you on the phone...we've both been single the whole time?"

“You’re dating Sam.” He murmurs, as if to remind you even though it’s odd you would say that. It is too much of a hope to have that you had ended things with him.

"I told you at the State dinner that I was ending things." Although it does, somehow for the very first time, occur to you that you didn't actually tell him you had done it. "I meant it. I broke up with him the next day."

“Why?” The question is quiet, although he would normally never pry, he needs to know.

"Do you want the complete or abridged list of reasons?" Attempting at humor falls short, and you find yourself swallowing down that fear mixed with bile that is threatening to bubble up your throat. "Well... whichever list you pick... this biggest reason is... is actually you." Inhale. Exhale. Try to remember everything you wrote down over the last week. "Because from the moment you walked in the front door of the inn, you took my breath away. And not just because you're handsome, although I admit that's undeniable. It's the way you seem to make things effortless. Easy conversations and god you have the most incredible laugh. It's like music. Everything about you has just built up and built up and... and somehow it isn't just oh, I like Marcus more than I like Sam. It's the way something inside me started tugging toward you right away and I didn't know what it was. All the cracks in the veneer I had built up of convincing myself that I was happy before... I've been happier being friends with you than I was in that entire relationship."

As the rambling boils over, the small speech you prepared is abandoned, and for better of your worse you find yourself laying your heart bare right there on the floor of the work shed. "I told myself I couldn't tell you that I was falling in love with you until I had made sure that I was doing it for the right reasons, but I don't even know what the right reasons are anymore. I just... know that my entire life I've felt like I was reaching for the moon. And every time you smile at me, it makes me feel like the moon is reaching for me, instead."

There’s a moment when his heart stops. Skips a beat or just falters from the emotions. Recognizing the line, it’s almost embarrassing how misty his eyes become. “You quoted Sabrina.” He murmurs, finally able to catch his breath and pure pleasure rushes through him when he realizes that this isn’t the ‘sorry we can’t’ speech he had been anticipating. “I didn’t want cause you problems.” He admits softly. “But I was – expecting this to be more of a reasons why you couldn’t be with me, speech. So you’ve surprised me.”

He smiles at you again. “From the moment I met you, I felt like I knew you. That you were someone precious to me.” He whispers. “And you are. Not just for the ridiculous tattoo we share—” he jokes, reaching for your hand. “But because of the woman you are. Hardworking, kind, smart, generous, beautiful – inside and out.”

His touch soothes and burns all at once, scorching you and making you feel lighter than air. All the grand, elaborate plans you made have gone out the window, and now it’s just you and Marcus standing together alone with your hearts in your throats. “Every realistic way I imagined this going…most of them ended in a polite denial or a reminder that you’re seeing someone,” you admit, exhaling a shaky breath. “I almost don’t know what to do now.”

“Neither do I.” Marcus can only laugh because he’s so hesitant right now. So sure you had wanted to just pretend he wasn’t your soulmate, he hadn’t even realized he had discounted the possibility you wanted the connection.

“I had a whole plan.” A fact which now makes your cheeks burn just as much as your hand is where he’s still holding it. “It was much more romantic than just spilling my guts to you all at once, I promise.”

“A plan?” He frowns slightly in confusion.

Not willing to take your hand back from him, you reach over with your free one and flip a few light switches — turning off the main lights in the small room and turning on the twinkling fairy lights instead. The small Bluetooth speaker crackles to life to begin playing Edith Piaf’s La Vie en Rose, and a small, cylindrical box nearby holds a single, ivory Eternity rose. Opening it now feels almost backward, but you still want Marcus to have the small token of your affection. “My first thought was honestly to whisk us both off to Paris for a weekend,” you admit, laughing at your own romanticism. “But when I reined myself in a little, I realized that all I really want is to spend time with you. So… Marcus Pike…” you hold out the wax treated rose just like a nervous high schooler and admit to yourself that that is how you feel right now. “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

He’s been asked out before, he has. He’s been hit on in bars or through dating apps, but this feels significant, because no one has ever put a lot of thought or effort into doing something for him. “Maybe Paris next weekend.” He chuckles, taking the rose and reaching out to cup your face with it in his hand. “This weekend we have a wedding and a birthday party.” He hums softly. “And maybe the flea market on Sunday?” He would say a baseball game, but the season hasn’t started yet.

“I’d really like that.” With his hand there it’s nearly impossible not to lean into his palm, and the feeling of nearly shaking apart with excitement shoots through you again. “As long as…” The nerves return, but you swallow them down carefully. “You don’t mind being seen out with me? People tend to take notice these days… and there’s always a chance of being photographed. Well… you saw the papers after the dinner…”

“I don’t care if the whole world knows that I’m out with you.” Marcus murmurs softly. “I’ll be proud to stand beside you. Not because I want any kind of fame or recognition, but because I’m with you.” He smiles. “Although sunglasses and a baseball cap work wonders for making people second guess if you want anonymity.”

“We’ll have to give it a try.” You’re beaming at him, absolutely grinning from ear to ear, and the feeling of rightness in this moment is nearly overwhelming. “I would’ve told you all this two weeks ago if I’d known on that first phone call that we were both single already. But I’m glad we got to do this face to face instead.”

“Getting away was best.” Marcus admits softly. “I was having a hard time reminding myself that you weren’t available.”

Nuzzling your cheek into his hand is as easy as breathing, and you laugh softly. “I think if you had asked, I would have come running.”

He smiles and gazes at you softly. “This is real? I’m not dreaming?” He jokes.

“If you’re dreaming, then we both are.” It’s nice to know you’re not alone in this giddiness, and even getting lost in his eyes at this moment feels like a gift.

“Sweetheart…” Marcus brushes his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “May I kiss you?” Even if you are his soulmate, and want to be with him, you deserve to be asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” you admit after a soft laugh. “I’m glad we’re already on the same page.”

“Good.” Marcus is stepping closer the second you say that. His other hand on your hip gently and he smirks slightly. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to kiss you during that dance.”

“About half as badly as I wanted to kiss you?” It’s good that you didn’t, of course. Not in front of so many people and while you were both still attached to others. But now? In privacy? Your heart is beating wildly out of time. “Please?”

Marcus is happy that his lips aren’t chapped, pressing them together and then parting them slightly. Watching you in wonder as he leans in.

The knock that comes just a second before your lips meet is probably the single most unwelcome interruption in history, and the disappointed sigh you let out when you hear your name called from the other side is practically a growl. "I'll be right there!" You call back, wishing you'd just hesitated slightly less and gotten to that kiss a touch faster.

He chuckles quietly and his own sigh of frustration is smothered. “Duty calls.”

"Hold that thought." You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and give him a gentle hug before turning around to shut off the electronics of your little surprise. He's still holding the rose bud with its trimmed stem, and you gently tuck it into his lapel with a smile. "I'll make it worth being interrupted, I promise."

“It’s okay, Birdie.” He uses your nickname for the first time. “You take care of what you need to.”

"If they're done it means it's time for dinner." It's still his friend's night, even if something has also happened here for you and for Marcus. "Come on." As much as you don't want to, you both have to go back out there. "Sydney made a ton of panzanella salad, giant pans of lasagna and these amazing parfaits of Madagascar vanilla panna cotta, raspberry jam, and pistachio brittle. I can't allow you to miss this dinner." It absolutely sucks to have to open the door, but you're practically beaming you're smiling so hard. "Sydney can't get over the fact that you were talking her up to José Andrés, by the way. I think you have a private chef for life."

“That sounds amazing.” He groans, having missed the last few meals due to traveling. “And I was only telling the truth.”

Coming out of the work shed, you see the wait staff starting to bring beer around to the table — as requested by the couple instead of wine or champagne with their casual rehearsal meal — and you nod toward the gazebo. “Go join your friends. I’m going to go check in in the kitchen and make sure Syd has everything under control.”

“Talk later?” He asks seriously, lifting a brow at you. There’s a lot to talk about obviously, but he does want to kiss you.

“If you want to stay late, I’m not going to be upset.” As soon as it’s out of your mouth you realize it could be taken as an overnight invitation, and while that wasn’t what you meant originally, you’re also not going to turn him away if he wants to stay the night. Apparently your old tendency to be fast-moving in potential relationships is back with gusto.

He smiles softly and nods, trying not to read into it, but he will be talking to you later.

Telling yourself you’re walking back to the main building at a reasonable pace, you know you’re racing when you bust in the back door and practically fling yourself into the kitchen as the waitstaff is bringing dinner out to the wedding party.

“There you are!” Sydney is rushing around, checking everything as she grins at you. “You disappeared on me.”

“Sorry.” In all honesty, you hadn’t expected things to go so well, and you were happily tucked away in a little vortex where time didn’t exist. “I lost track of time…talking to Marcus.”

“Oh!” She immediately stops and comes over to you. “How did it go?” She knows you’ve been worrying over possibly the most important conversation of your life.

Absolutely deadpan — or at least as close to it as you can get right now — you tilt your head at Sydney. "I'm firing your head server for interrupting us before he could kiss me."

“Done.” She snaps her fingers playfully. “Gone.” She insists. “Oh my god! He was going to kiss you! How did— so obviously he’s not upset, right? Unless it was going to be an angry kiss? But I don’t see Marcus being an angry kisser. Do you?” She’s rambling because she’s happy, ecstatic for you really. Now dreaming of a happily ever for you.

“It was definitely not angry.” Now that Syd is bubbling over too, you start giggling all over again. “We’re going to go out on Sunday, which means we’re spending like half the weekend together.”

“Half?” She snorts and shakes her head. “You mean all.” Holding up her hand she smirks. “Wedding Friday, you are going to attend and you know it.” She holds up one finger. “Then your birthday party.” She holds up another finger. “And now a date on Sunday.” She holds up three fingers altogether. “That’s all the days of the weekend, my love.”

"I will be working the wedding and seeing him for part of each day doesn’t mean he’ll want to see me all day." Even as primly as you try to present it, you know she's right, and the giggles boil over once again. "He's got the rose in his lapel and I can't wait for him to realize that it's the special kind that's been treated to last for years."

“And in return, he’s going to support you like you’ve never been supported before.” She snicker, beaming at you. Now that Sam is gone, she’s realizing how much more enthusiastic you are about the inn again. Like the zeal had been suppressed when you were with him. Or maybe planning this wedding is what has snapped you out of the funk.

“There was a dirty pun in there somewhere,” you observe, giving her a playful side eye. “Or maybe I just hope there was.”

She smirks and waggles her brows at you. “Are you needing a good romp, Birdie?” She asks playfully.

“Listen.” Wagging a finger at her, you blow out a breath and lower your voice, making sure no one else can hear you. “There nothing wrong with missionary. Nothing, as long as it’s done right. But a girl likes a little variety.”

“You mean you want your hair pulled while you’re railed from behind and he slaps your ass right above that dirty little tattoo and calls you his filthy, gorgeous little cum dumpster?” She winks wickedly at you.

Your deadpan expression comes back just long enough to tease her, and you put one hand on your best friend’s shoulder seriously. “Thanks for the insight into how my goddaughter was conceived.”

“You’re welcomed.” She snorts, laughing at herself. “I wel-cummed too!”

“Oh my Fuckin god.” Snorting, you turn away to grab your clipboard and try to compose yourself but are still laughing when you head for the door again. “Okay. I gotta back out there and pretend I’m not thinking about fucking that gorgeous man in the bathtub. Byyyyyeeee.”

“Byyyyyyyyeeee!” She afflicts the same tone you do and waves happily before diving back into making sure every dessert is perfect.

**

For a wedding that has been so fraught with stress, the rehearsal dinner goes perfectly. Dinner is delicious and by the end of the night, it’s obvious that Cameron and her soon-to-be husband are feeling both much more relaxed and more excited for their big day.

“Tonight is about you.” Marcus lifts his beer in a toast and smiles at them. “In two days, you will be married.” He chuckles. “And then I don’t want to see you in the office for two weeks.” He tells his agent fondly.

“She’ll be in good hands, I promise.” From the edge of the gazebo, you offer everyone a smile.

“You have planned everything perfectly.” Cameron smiles and stands quickly, walking over to hug you.

“It’s been my pleasure,” you assure her honestly, giving the very sweet bride a squeezing hug back. “I forgot how much I enjoy the hustle of wedding planning.”

“You have done such an amazing job. I would never know you didn’t do it all the time.” She promises you.

"I'm glad you're not upset to be stuck with second fiddle while Juan is out of town. I promise I consulted him every step of the way." The two of you exchange another hug as people start to get up from the table, all of them milling about and not quite ready to say good night. "You have a spa day tomorrow for your bachelorette right? Enjoy it."

“My mom is coming with me too.” For a moment, she looks like she’s going to cry again. Only happy tears though. “I can’t believe it.”

"Bask in that happiness, Joyce. You deserve it." Over the past two weeks it's become very routine for the two of you to check in with each other, and the text message thread you share has been as cram full of memes, music recommendations, and little affirmations as anything else. It's an unexpected start to a friendship, but a friendship nonetheless.

“I can’t believe Marcus called them.” Even hearing it from them again, she’s still in awe. Especially because they had changed their minds. “I just wish Michael’s parents would be here. That would make it perfect.”

"They might need a little more time to come around, but don't let that hold a cloud over your day." You squeeze her arms gently in both hands, prompting both of you to smile. "It's going to be a wonderful day no matter what. You get to marry the man you love. That's what matters."

“That is all that matters.” She smiles in that giddy, secretive way as her eyes automatically drift over to where her fiancé is talking with Marcus and her father. Looking a little more dreamy when she sees the man she will create a life with.

"Go on." Nudging her a little and grinning, you have to acknowledge that at least half your smile is for Marcus, but it's a private acknowledgement. "Have a fantastic day tomorrow and I'll see you Friday morning to start getting ready."

“I will.” She promises. “And when we come back, I want to take you and Sydney out to lunch. One that she doesn’t fix.”

"Deal. We'll want to hear all about the honeymoon anyway." As soon as you agree she's skittering off again, excitable and oh so ready to spend some time with her almost husband.

Somehow, Marcus has been talked into a round of golf with Cameron’s father and Michael tomorrow, although he’s not sure how that happened.

You don't butt in and don't eavesdrop, just quietly start clearing the table of dirty dishes and loading up trays with silverware and glasses to be brought back inside to clean. The party has already started slowly wandering across the lawn to the parking lot so you know it won't be too much longer before you can shut down and get upstairs. If Marcus is too tired after everything to want to talk tonight, you'll absolutely understand. It's not like you won't see him again in just two days' time.

Marcus says goodnight to everyone and looks around, finding another tray of dishes loaded up to take inside and he picks it up. Assuming you are already taking more back and he can help you clean up.

When he walks into the kitchen with a full tray to hand off to the dishwasher, your already bright smile gets impossibly bigger. “You’re a guest,” you remind him, lifting the tray from his hands and reveling in the tiniest touch of skin to skin regardless of how fleeting it is. “You don’t have to clean up.”

“And you shouldn’t have to do everything when I have two empty hands.” Marcus replies with a grin.

“As helpful as you are handsome.” Now that the line has been crossed — now that you can — flirting is probably going to bleed through into just about everything.

He doesn’t know exactly how to respond to that enthusiastic flirtation, so he just shrugs slightly, aware of how his cheeks are heating up. “I try.” Is all he can muster.

“Sorry,” you cringe for a second, realizing you might have stepped too far over that newly crossed line, and you bit your lip. “Too much?”

“No.” He shakes his head quickly, not wanting you to feel like you have done something wrong. “Not at all. It’s just—” he shrugs self-consciously again. “I liked it, a lot.”

“Okay.” The momentary pause with both of you smiling at each other like star struck idiots is broken by the sound of Sydney clearing her throat.

“Go,” she insists to you, even making a shooing motion with her hand. “We’ve got clean up. Go upstairs.”

“I— are you sure?” Marcus frowns slightly, aware that Sydney is pregnant and has to be tired.

“I have tons of help.” Motioning around the kitchen before she shoos you again, Syd considers his concern for her an extra mark in his favor, but insists. “Seriously, go on. And don’t let her do any more work tonight. She’s been going nonstop without the benefit of a whole staff to help her.”

“I won’t.” Marcus promises, looking back at you. “I’ll make sure she does nothing but relax.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” Sydney grins, throwing you a wink before turning back to the tray of things she was unloading.

He doesn’t know what all was said, but obviously there’s been a conversation between you and your best friend. “Do you want to buy a bottle of wine to take upstairs?” He suggests.

“Sounds perfect.” More than anything it implies that he wants to stay for a little while, and you’re very happy to hear that.

He figures that will let you relax; you can have some time to talk and then you can go to bed after he leaves. “Okay.” He smiles. “Any particular bottle you’re fond of?”

“I don’t know a whole lot about wine.” You had been trying to absorb whatever Sam had told you about a particular bottle or style, but it hadn’t been sticking well. “I’ve been sticking with sweeter wines, but if you have something you like I’d love to try it.”

“Sweet.” He decides it’s a perfect time to flirt back. “I’ll try to pick one that’s as sweet as you are.” He promises before he walks out of the kitchen to look at the wine rack.

"If you'll excuse me." Glancing over at Sydney, both of you grin at each other. "I'm going to go scream into a pillow about how cute that man is."

“Maybe you’ll scream into a pillow for a different reason.” She teases, throwing you another wicked wink. “Go get your soulmate, Tiger.”

While you absolutely would not mind, you don't think that's on the docket for tonight. Still, you smack a kiss on your best friend's cheek and head down the hallway to find Marcus coming out of the bottle room with a bottle of Riesling in hand. "Find something you approve of?"

“I think this will satisfy us both.” He hums, smiling at the sight of you. “Are you hungry? We could order something to be delivered.”

"I have the makings of an excellent charcuterie in my fridge upstairs, if you're interested?" While the wedding party ate, you picked minimally at a small bowl of salad and gotten some other things done, so a snack along with your wine sounds perfect. "If nothing there looks good to you, there are lots of places that deliver."

“I always love a good charcuterie.” Marcus admits, nodding easily. “As long as you are content. I notice you didn’t eat much and I’m sure you didn’t eat in the kitchen when you were running around.”

His caretaking tendencies are endearing, and since he had mentioned to you before that his ex wasn't a fan of them, you offer him a sincere smile. It's...sort of remarkable the way he notices things but you have to think that some of that comes out of his professional training. "You were supposed to be having fun, not keeping an eye on me," you chide gently as you walk together toward the elevator. Agent Bailey is keeping her distance but always present, trying to give you a bit of privacy while still doing her job.

“It’s hard not to notice a beautiful woman.” Marcus comes back easily. “Especially knowing what we know now, it’s impossible.” He isn’t going to rush you, not on the heels of a previous relationship, but he wants to get to know you. Learn more about his soulmate.

"That makes me feel slightly less self-conscious about always feeling like there's a magnet in my eyes whenever you're around," you admit. The elevator dings on the bottom floor, expelling two guests, and the three of you get in together once it's empty.

“I felt extremely guilty about how interested I was in you, from the very beginning.” He admits softly. “But I never would have said a word. That invitation to dinner was just a friendly invite.”

"That's all I took it as. And how I meant it when I accepted. It's just...that interest has always been there. For both of us, I guess." The ride to your apartment in the attic doesn't take long. It's only four floors, after all.

“Good. Soulmate or not, I don’t— cheating is not something I approve of or want to engage in.” He assures you. It’s not like being a soulmate would prevent cheating, there are still crappy human beings in the world.

"Cheating is really my biggest...I won't call it a trauma from earlier relationships, but definitely the issue that weighs most heavily on me. I absolutely do not and cannot condone it." The door to your apartment swings open easily and Agent Bailey steps inside to do her usual check of things before settling onto a chair by your door. Marcus has only been to your place once, but it's not exactly large so it's easy to see pretty much everything from the front entry. "My agents have free reign in my kitchen, also. Just...in case I never thought to mention that. I keep snacks they like on hand, and the coffee they like. Plus sometimes you might see a lunch bag or something on the bottom shelf. It's my home, but it's also their workplace, so I try to make sure they feel like they can be comfortable."

“That’s very nice of you.” He chuckles and glances at Agent Bailey. “I’m sure it’s appreciated. Sometimes eating during work is hard isn’t it?” She nods and he glances back at you. “Why don’t you go change into your comfy clothes and I’ll get everything?”

"There's platters and boards in the cabinet to the left of the refrigerator." On a more casual evening, you would have tipped your head back to kiss him, but something in your gut tells you that your first kiss with this man will be anything but casual and not to waste that little bit of magic. "I'll be right back."

“Take your time.” He smiles. “Agent Bailey can help if I need to find something.”

If it wasn’t the first time you’re spending time together like this, and if there wasn’t a Secret Service agent on hand, you might have gone into your room and found something slinky or lacy or otherwise revealing to put on. Slip into something a little more comfortable, as the movies always used to say. Instead, you trade your cigarette pants for a pair of yoga pants that you routinely sleep in, and trade the very tailored, carefully fitted blouse and push up bra for an old tank top that is soft on your skin and an oversized sweatshirt from Kings College, back when you were in London. The decision to wipe your makeup off and just be a bare, clean version of you is one you take very seriously. Some men expect their partners to be ‘on’ at all times and that isn’t you.

Marcus finds your kitchen to be small, but set up in a very easy to use kind of way. He follows your directions for the board, and opens the wine to let it breathe before diving into your fridge and small pantry to put together a board based off what you have. You were right, you have all the makings for an excellent board and he hums as he works.

It’s certainly less than ten minutes that you’re gone, but when you reappear again, Marcus has created a masterpiece of a board and fished two wine glasses out of your cupboard to boot. He looks so natural — standing there in your kitchen with his shirt collar hanging open and a look of deep concentration on his face as he works to twist slices of prosciutto into something resembling a knot or a flower — that it makes you downright emotional. In all the months you were with Sam, he had barely done more than fix you a cup of coffee.

Looking up when he senses movement, he beams at the sight of you all dressed down. Even more beautiful than you had been when he arrived. “How did you manage to do that?” He asks, abandoning the prosciutto to scoop up a wine glass and walk around the bar to bring it to you. “You look even better than you did when you walked into your room.”

“He prefers the casual look.” You beam at him, letting the heat in your cheeks burn the rest of your face as well. “Noted.”

“You are beautiful dressed up or dressed down.” He promises, smiling as he hands you the wine. “Go sit and I’ll bring the food over. The couch?”

“Perfect.” It seems like you’re saying that a lot, but your face is on fire with the compliment as you accept the wine glass from him and glance back at your living room. There are a few candles around just because you like the ambiance, and you quickly gather them to put out on your coffee table. When was the last time anyone had just…taken charge and spoiled you like this? Maybe years ago? Maybe never. It’s certainly not something Sam ever did — those situations always seemed to be you serving him and never about meeting in the middle or treating you. The realization stings, but only for a moment.

“I hope you don’t mind.” It takes him a second to gather up the board, his wine and the bottle, but he manages it before he starts to walk over. “I found a little bag of chocolate candies and I love having chocolate with cheese.”

“I don’t mind at all. You’re perfectly right about those two together.” The board he sets down looks like it belongs on the cover of a cookbook or a food blog, and it looks like he found your nearly-done jar of blackberry jam too, because there is a ramekin of it on the board next to some of your favourite sesame crackers. “This is…” It’s perfect, but since you keep using that word, you search for another. “It’s such an indulgence, and a beautiful one, too.”

He’s never described himself as someone who preens, but he definitely wallows in your praise just a bit. “I took a charcuterie board making class.” He explains. “I thought it would be a good date. Food, learning, wine. The date didn’t work out, but I enjoyed the class.”

“And you clearly absorbed everything they taught you.” Shifting over on the couch, you take the wine bottle from him and set it on a thick coaster before inspecting the magic he’s made of all the bits and pieces from your kitchen. “Thank you for this. I know you must be tired from traveling and everything, but I’m glad we actually have a chance to talk.”

“You’ve been busy too.” He reminds you softly, leaning over and nudging your shoulder gently. “Putting on a wedding in two weeks’ time with little help.” He huffs slightly. “I hope you know that’s not exactly what I had in mind when I called you for a favor.”

“I know it’s not.” The first sip of the wine you take is sharp and fruity up front, mellowing on your tongue and warming you through just seconds later. “But you wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important to you, and…you’re important to me. So I wanted everything to be perfect.”

He can’t help but give a pleased little hum in the back of his throat, covering it up by taking his own sip of wine. “I appreciate it, so much. You can see why it was important. Cameron— I guess I need to start calling her Joyce— and Michael are such good people.

“I wanted you to know you could count on me,” you admit, sitting forward to compose your first little bite. “And I ended up making new friends in the process.”

“I think that is probably the best part.” Marcus smiles as you pick and poke until you get the bite you want on your cracker.

A sesame cracker with creamy Brie and a little dab of Calabrian chili jam — not traditional, but an experiment of Syd’s — is first and you practically giggle at how well it all goes together. Even the sweet wine seems to be perfect with the spicy jam. “So…” The beginning of something like this, not that you’ve ever sat down to have a methodical chat with your soulmate before, feels important and intimidating. “Do you mind if we sort of lay things out in the proverbial table? Just kind of be open with each other going into this?”

“I think that would be the best way to handle things.” Marcus admits, hoping that the way you’ve phrased that isn’t some kind of ominous prelude of what’s to come. You surely wouldn’t flirt with him and then crush his hopes? He picks up his own cracker and puts a slice of very sharp cheddar and a fig onto it with a smear of the blackberry jam on top.

“We’ve already talked about wanting kids.” That day at Eastern Market has stuck in your mind, although you couldn’t have known then that it would become such an important topic for you. “And I…I’m actually looking forward to being married. To have a partner who is my confidante and my friend and my support as well as being along for whatever fun and mischief might come up in our lives. I just…my family means the world to me and the fact that I couldn’t see a future with Sam where we were equal partners in an equal marriage was one of the major reasons I knew it wasn’t going to work out.”

Marcus chews his bite, understanding what you are meaning. “So you are asking if I can handle the political, social spotlight and put up with the interferences that it might cause in our personal lives?”

“Partially.” You nod and go back in to build another bite. Serious conversations somehow always make you hungry, so this was a good idea. “I’m also asking if your dream or your future includes a wife who stays at home with the kids, because that isn’t a version of me that I have ever found realistic.”

Marcus laughs, shaking his head and reaching out to pick up a candy, offering it to you instead of eating it himself. “No.” He snorts. “God no, I’ve never had any dreams of having a wife at home to cook and clean, bring me my slippers or anything of the sort.” He assures you. “My parents both worked, my father was constantly traveling. My mother would sometimes work late. We had my family, family friends, babysitters to help her when he was gone. I know that this inn is important to you.” He stresses carefully. “What you decide to do, that is what I would want you to do.”

The chocolate drop is such a small offering physically, but the warmth is spreads through you to accept is something you can’t really describe. Marcus just puts you so at ease, even with small gestures. “I saw my father give things up to help my mother achieve everything she ever wanted,” you tell him honestly. “And while I know he’s happy, it isn’t what he dreamed of. And I’ve just always wanted to find a way to make sure my partner and I could both have our dreams come true.”

“My own dreams are pretty simple.” He shrugs. “I want an equal partnership. Kids. A healthy family dynamic where sometimes I have to take off work because the kids are sick, or you have to take them to work because I’m out of town. I like compromises.”

“Compromises are good.” The chocolate melts slowly on your tongue, mixing with wine and making you smile again. “I like traditions, too. Mixing your family traditions with mine and then coming up with some new ones all our own.”

“And I understand that for the next three to seven years, your family is….well, prioritized, for lack of a better word, and I’m okay with that.” He knows that there will be press obligations and holidays where you need to be present. He wouldn’t begrudge you that.

“You don’t mind Friday night family dinners, or a Secret Service detail, or the fact that people are going to feel entitled to know things about us or have opinions about us?” Sam had said he didn’t mind. And sometimes you thought he even basked in it a little, but the reality is that he doesn’t like things he can’t control. You just hope Marcus is willing to be a little more flexible.

“Do I love the idea of people judging our lives when they don’t actually know the details?” Marcus shrugs slightly. “No, but at the same time, I understand that it will happen. I’m not going to be upset at you for it.” He glances back at Agent Bailey who is comfortably sitting in a chair and trying to not listen in on your conversation. “Your detail is a necessary evil. I would never want you to get rid of them. I know the types of threats your family can receive.”

“My Dad’s already gotten a few.” Of course your mother has, but as the first female President she had expected that and has just handed the pertinent materials over to the Secret Service. “He just says it’s proof that Mom is a strong leader that some people also feel strongly against her. But that doesn’t have anything to do with you and me.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He can agree with that. “But some think that the sin of the mother, in this case…” he picks up a grape and offers it to you. “Are you worried I will hate it, or love it?”

“The attention?” Without even thinking, the bite of cheese and prosciutto in your hand instantly becomes his in exchange for the grape, like a reflex. Sharing easily and just instinctively giving things back and forth without worry. “I’m terrified that you’ll start to resent it and resent me by association.”

“Never happen.” He can promise you that with absolute certainty. “I am the son of a therapist, remember?” He teases lightly, tapping your nose. “I talk when things bother me. I don’t hide from them.”

“I’m the daughter of two lawyers, one of whom turned politician.” It’s impossible not to nudge toward him, the endearing little boop to your nose making you smile like an idiot all over again. “We’ll talk about it, but as soon as you’ve given me your opening statement I’ll have a cross-examination, a motivational monologue, and an emotional closing argument ready to go.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “You do realize that I’ve got quite a bit of experience on the stand, right?” He asks, picking up another cracker and recreating your first bite to hold out to you. He had enjoyed the way you moaned over it.

“And if I remember correctly, you said you also debated at the family dinner table.” This time you spread some of the goat cheese from the board onto a piece of baguette and top it with a chocolate drop for him to try. “So I think we’re going to be just fine and the communication front.”

“I don’t foresee any grand problems.” He agrees. “But if there are issues, we talk and work them out.”

“I completely agree,” you even nod as you hold the bite out for him to try.

He takes the bite out of your hand, just leaning forward and eating from your hand. “Oh that’s good!”

The casual intimacy of the gesture and the slightly cavewoman-esque feeling of feeding and giving life being connected aren’t exactly things you expected to mix so easily. But here you are squirming in your seat and trying not to set on fire with it. “Damn it, Marcus,” you laugh despite yourself.

“What?” The question is innocent enough, but Marcus has enough experience to know what he’s doing to you. The slight smirk twisting his lips giving him away.

“You’re a tease,” you huff, pouting at him animatedly.

“I’ve been called that before.” He admits, picking up another cracker and putting together another little morsel for you as a peace offering. “Do you not like that?”

The slight snicker and smirk you have for him is good natured, and it turns into a wry smile. “I like it better when I’m allowed to climb the offending teaser like a tree.”

Your words hit him like a ton of bricks and he would be lying if his body didn’t immediately react. “Yeah?” His voice is a little raspy choking out the word. “You’d like that, huh?”

“I’m not planning on rushing you,” you assure him, but you still put down your wine glass. “You did just get out of a relationship.”

“As did you.” He points out, leaning back and staring at you, trying to gauge your position on this.

“I did.” It’s nearly a standoff now, but not in a hostile way. Just in a way where you’re both wondering who will break first. “So I’m not saying we should sleep together right away, but I still really want to kiss you.”

“Can I be completely honest?” Marcus asks, almost a little ashamed of even having to admit this.

“I prefer it.”

Reaching for your hand, he chuckles slightly. “I really want to kiss you too. And more….but I just flew in less than an hour before I got here.” He reminds you. “I’m afraid that I would not be at my best if we did anything tonight and I would like to make a good impression the first time.”

“That’s completely fair.” And actually makes you laugh a little. Not because you’re laughing at him but because it’s so human. “So we’ll come to it when we’re ready. And when we’re well rested.”

“I don’t want you to think that I’m not interested, because I am.” He promises. “But I also don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of learning your body.”

“Well when you put it like that, I don’t want that either.” The smile curving your lips and cheeks is bright, though, and you set one hand gently on his knee. “If you need to go home, I’m not going to be offended.”

The hours that he’s been awake are starting to settle onto his shoulders and the half glass of wine makes him sleepy. “Are you sure?” He asks softly. “I was supposed to be taking care of you and putting you to bed slightly wine drunk and relaxed.”

"I promise." A gentle squeeze of his leg is a small sign of affection, but a very real one. "You've taken care of me beautifully and this is the most relaxed I've felt in ages."

“Good.” He hums, pleased with that. It’s all he wants to do, to be a good partner and give you what you need.

"If you're already exhausted, you can crash here?" It comes out more like a question than you meant it to, but that's because you realize that you don't actually know how much he had to drink at dinner. Not that Marcus seems drunk to you at all, but everyone is affected by alcohol differently. And you don't want him on the road if he's sleepy and still a little tipsy.

Just the idea of it makes Marcus nearly yawn, sleep that much closer to being a reality. But he still has to protest slightly. “I don’t want to impose…”

"It's not imposing if I offer." You remind him, feeling the sweetness of the moment sort of float down over it like a warm blanket. "I can bring some spare blankets and pillows out here to the couch, or you can come snuggle up in bed with me. It's up to you." The fact is, it's late. And you have a wedding to put on in two days. So maybe it's not sleeping with him for the first time in the traditional sense, but it's definitely intimate in the kind of way that you want to be able to share with him. Either way, you still get to be near him.

“It’s a twenty-minute drive, but honestly I don’t know if I can make it.” He sighs. “I’ll sleep wherever you want me to. How does that sound?”

"I want you in my bed," you admit without apology. "But you deserve rest instead of a handsy girl cuddling next to you. So go use the bathroom and I'll clean up out here and grab you some blankets and a spare pillow. Do you have to go into the office tomorrow?"

Marcus huffs out a sleepy laugh, his battery rapidly draining now that he’s admitted how tired he is. “Worse.” He groans. “We have a seven AM tee time and then I have to go to the office.”

"Who are you golfing with at seven in the morning?" Lifting yourself up off the couch and starting to gather things up, you leave Marcus's wine glass with its last few sips for him to finish if he wants to. The current plan is to wrap this board up in some plastic and have the remains for lunch tomorrow.

“Michael and Joyce’s father.” He moans. “Michael asked me to join, thinking it would be a good buffer, given the fragile relationship.”

"It makes sense, but that's a hell of an early morning." When he follows you into the kitchen with both of your wine glasses, you smile at the padding sound of his shuffled steps. He's definitely tired. "So you golf, then?"

“Not particularly well.” Marcus snorts. “But I’ve had to learn since a lot of directors like to have meetings on a golf course.”

"My Dad used to take us mini golfing when we were kids." The two of you work slowly but in a good rhythm and get things put away easily. "Believe it or not, Junie is the one who really took to it. It's their bonding thing, and she goes putting as a stress relief thing. I vastly prefer yoga."

“I probably need yoga.” Marcus laughs. “But I normally just run.”

"You'd love my yoga class." You finish the last sip of your wine and set your glass on the side of the sink to be washed tomorrow. "I go to puppy yoga once a week."

“Puppy yoga?” That has Marcus both intrigued and confused, thinking that he’s tired enough to be having auditory hallucinations.

"A room full of grown ass adults doing gentle yoga poses with cute little puppies running around the room for the whole hour." When he hands over his glass you put it next to yours and take a quick inventory of things in the kitchen just to make sure that you're all set for the next day. "It's the most relaxing silliness you could possibly ask for."

“That sounds adorable.” He admits with a small smile. “And chaotic at times.”

"Best way to spend a Thursday night in the world." You reach out easily, rubbing Marcus's arm softly. "Go get ready for bed. I'll grab those blankets for you."

“I’m sorry.” He feels guilty, very guilty, that he can’t stay up all night talking to you. However, it’s technically five in the morning in London and he hadn’t slept much the night before. Just an hour or so, and then he couldn’t sleep on the plane. So he is just completely gassed.

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Promising him that is easy, like promising the wind that you appreciate its breeze. "I get the feeling that you don't let a lot of people take care of you the way you take care of everyone else. So allow me to be the one person who gets that privilege. At least for now?"

“Can’t be disappointed when no one will if you don’t let them.” He’s so tired it pops out of his mouth without realizing he’s said it, his inner monologue gone.

The utter shock to your system is as much about the hurt in his voice as anything else, and in less than a heartbeat you're wrapping your arms around him to hug him more tightly than you probably mean to. This gentle, sweet, kind man just...put up his walls a lot closer to himself than most other people do to keep his heart guarded from the very worst hurts, and that makes you ache. "I'm sorry people have disappointed you before. But I'm going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Shit. “I didn’t mean to say that.” He sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t move away from the hug though, slightly leaning into it.

"I was going to do my best to take care of you anyway," you tell him, overwhelmed in the honesty of the moment. "The only difference is now you know I'm doing it. That's not so bad, right?"

“No.” He can’t deny you, not right now. “Thank you.” He murmurs quietly.

"Come on, honey." When his arms loosen after a few moments, you turn into his side to walk with him. "Let's get you ready to sleep."

“God, I’m sorry.” He snorts. “Think I’ve had…three hours sleep in the last forty-eight hours?” It’s almost a question and he can’t quite calculate it.

"That's alright. I'm just glad I didn't send you out onto the road this tired." You never would have forgiven yourself if anything had happened to him, so you're doubly glad that he agreed to stay.

Getting ready for bed is relatively quick. You give him a spare toothbrush and he cleans up quickly for someone so tired. Eager to sleep. Two extra blankets and a spare pillow from your bed make the couch cozy enough, and you lean over to press a kiss to his cheek before leaving him to get comfortable. "Good night," you hum the words, finding his sleepy state endearingly cute but not wanting to tease him about it. "Soulmate."

“Goodnight.” The good thing about Marcus is he can sleep anywhere. Your couch is far superior to the one in his office and he’s almost asleep as his head settles into the pillow. “My beautiful soulmate.” His eyes are already closed. “Can’t believe you’re mine.” He whispers.

______

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[aligarahunani]

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[caffeinatedheathen]

Don't exactly know how to tag this so idk who's gonna see it but is anyone else feeling a little let down by Black Hills Redemption in Deadwood this weekend? Like $70 a ticket for 3 day general admission felt very on par and maybe even a bit of a steal but then come to find out all that 70 grants you is the ability to stand in line for autographs. Not complaining that actors have their own prices for autographs, that's expected. But there is basically nothing to do here except what Deadwood already has to offer. Tickets weren't needed to see the stage acts and that didn't feel very clear in purchasing them, anyone even the normal Deadwood tourists can join and watch. The only activities are a poker game that's a promo for a box set and a projector in a small tent.

I really don't wanna feel like a karen about all this but I'm incredibly bummed about all this. Is anyone else having similar experiences? Did anyone go to the one in Tombstone last year to give a comparison? I only talked to one person here that went last year and they mainly just mentioned how long the lines were. Any info or comments is appreciated.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

so the SAT redesigned itself so that students (college-bound students…) are no longer required to read extended multiparagraph texts. specifically texts have a maximum character of 900, also known as “a little less than four tweets.” which was already depressing but now that admissions season is kicking into gear i have my first students actually prepping for this iteration of the test and it’s really bumming me out that despite what you might think, this doesn’t actually seem to have made the test meaningfully easier and there are in fact bright and ambitious and hard working college bound seniors whose parents can shell out $$$ for test prep who attend very expensive private schools who can’t reliably read 2-5 sentences on a humanities, science, or social sciences topic and answer questions like “what is the author’s claim” or “what is this paragraph mostly about”

[youaintnothinbuta]

Wow you're a great writer! Could you write one where the reader gets hurt and Jack takes care of her? (Maybe she fell down or got into a fight or something? You can decide.)

“You’re a terrible liar.” — jack kelly x reader

(Thank you for this request! I think this might be my fav piece I’ve ever written)

Summary: you get into a fight while on your own with Annie Delancey (Oscar and Morris’ sister), you come home and jack takes care of you.

Pairing: jack kelly x fem!reader

Word count: 883

Warnings: fluff, mention of a fight, injured mc, mention of blood.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The boys were all sitting around in the alley beside the lodging house, talking late into the night, as they usually do. You could hear their chatter reverberating through the atmosphere even from a street or two away, they were never exactly the quietest bunch. You could even pick out Spot’s voice, berating Race for something, probably one of his dumb jokes, and Race’s laugh shortly after. You didn’t want to go home to them, but equally, you didn’t want to stand here looking scathed up, embarrassed and alone, in the dark. You didn’t want them to see you like this, the aftermath of an encounter you wish you’d never had.

In the distance, a sudden commotion erupted from the nearby bar, startling you into making the decision to go home. You trudged your way back to the lodging house, the boys greeting you with concern for both your lateness and the way your hair looked roughed up, and your knee was scraped up and bleeding.

Jack was the first to stand up, rushing over to you, “What happened? Where have you been?” he inquired.

You met his gaze, a silent plea to spare you the interrogation. Jack, understanding the unspoken plea, enveloped you in a gentle hug, ushering you inside. “Inside, now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Guiding you up the creaky stairs, Jack led you into the bathroom adjacent to his room. Setting you down on the countertop, he began the delicate process of tending to your wounds. His fingers deftly untied your shoes, he pushed up your skirt so he’d be able to clean up your knee.

His voice, a soothing murmur, cut through the silence. “Who did this?”

“I tripped,” you replied, your voice a fragile admission.

A skeptical eyebrow arched on Jack’s face. “You’re a terrible liar.”

The washcloth in his hand moistened as he ran it under the water, your face scrunched at the touch of it against your skin, stinging, despite his efforts to be gentle. He mumbled a small ‘sorry’, still waiting for an answer to his question, until you finally mumbled a name.

“Annie.”

Jack’s reaction was palpable; you watched him drop his head, his knuckles turned white as he clenched the damp cloth in his hand at the name you’d just spoken.

Of course. A Delancey. Who else?

“Jack, don’t worry. I definitely won,” you assured, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

He sighed a long, deep sigh, planting a small kiss on your forehead as he stood up straight. “You should have come gotten me.”

“I didn’t need to, she’s so much worse off than me, I promise.”

He lifted up your thigh to open up the cupboard you were sitting over, reaching down to grab some bandage wrap. You watched as he carefully wrapped some around your knee.

“Y/N, I believe you, you’re a tough girl but you still got hurt.” He secured it firmly, a small patch of red appearing as you still hadn’t quite finished bleeding.

You nodded in acknowledgment, a small “okay” escaping your lips. Jack’s concern softened into a comforting reassurance, his gaze holding yours in a steady connection. “That’s a girl. Is there anywhere else you need patching up?”

His inquiry was met with a nod.

“Where, honey?”

“Shoulder.” You muttered.

He gently guided you forward, his touch both reassuring and tender. You leant onto his body as he lifted the skirt of your dress from underneath your bum, pulling it up and over you. The fabric glided over your shoulders and arms, revealing more of the aftermath of your scuffle.

Your left shoulder bore raised scratch marks, still slightly bleeding. Jack sighed your name, his thumb tracing the lines lightly, as if trying to erase the marks that marred your skin.

In a gentle ballet of care, Jack reached for the washcloth, running it under the water once more. The cool touch of the damp cloth against your skin brought a soothing relief.

As the last remnants of blood were wiped away, Jack took a step back, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’ll be alright, Y/N. Tough as they come,” he spoke with a small, encouraging smile.

“Jack,” you spoke, your voice a hesitant murmur. His gaze returned to you, brows furrowed in a silent question.

“Do you mind if I… I mean, can I sleep in your bed tonight?” you asked, the words escaping with a vulnerability that surprised even you. “Just in case I feel sore.”

The request hung in the air, the dim light casting a soft glow on the room. Jack’s eyes softened as he processed your words, a mixture of understanding and something deeper reflected in his gaze.

Jack nodded, a small, comforting smile playing on his lips. He reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Of course, Y/N. You don’t even need to ask. Let’s get you some rest.”

Together, you left the bathroom, retreating into the sanctuary of his room.

The moment the door closed behind you, a sense of intimacy settled in the space. Jack, with a gentle touch, helped you settle on his bed. He fetched an extra blanket, tucking it around you as if creating a cocoon of safety. You met his eyes, gratitude and a silent acknowledgment passing between you.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Hi it's @clone-anon

Being pregnant was not super fun. It's not that you thought you'd have rainbows and glitter lining your path every day, but it wouldn't be half bad if your body could cut you a break. You tried to take it easy where you could, but it seemed too soon to take it easy.

Hunter sat down next to you and pulled you close. He placed a kiss on your head and nuzzled his nose in your hair, just wanting to make sure you knew he was there.

"It's gonna be okay," he said.

"I know," you were quick to reply. "I don't regret this."

"I'm not saying you regret it," he said with a knowing smile. "I'm saying it's okay if you feel bummed right now, but I promise we'll get through it together."

You understood what he meant and nodded a little. Hunter placed his hand on your stomach, trying to sense anything he could and somehow tell your baby that their dad was there too and he'd always be there for the both of you.

"Come to bed with me," he said softly.

It was getting later and you couldn't deny you were tired. Hunter got up and held out his hand like he always did. You smiled up at him and took it. You got ready for sleep and got into bed. Hunter helped you adjust any pillows that could be in a better position, but also made sure to be close. You talked about how things were going and what might be around the bend while laying in bed with dimmed lights. When you were ready, he turned the lights out and you shared a kiss.

"I love you, mesh'la," he said.

You took his hand and kissed each knuckle. "I love you too."

My dearest... the sobbing puddle you've reduced me to... I really... really needed this today... Sweet, patient, considerate Hunter being so supportive and gentle... my heart... Thank you

Just to fill everyone else in, I've had some potentially concerning issues popping up since Friday. So far, nothing's been confirmed, but some pretty scary words and warnings have been thrown around with the full admission that my midwives don't know exactly what's going on. I'm waiting for some tests, but it's been pretty stressful. And painful, though I was far less concerned about that until I learned that it could mean my little one's at risk...

All this to say, sorry I haven't responded to anyone recently. I see and adore your comments, I just haven't been in a state of mind to be particularly social...

@clone-anon, again, thank you. This perfect bit of comfort means so, so much